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.
Phillip slammed the door to the house shut. He had spent his morning repairing the last hole in the roof. He had been cleaning up when Marie had marched into his house like she was on a mission, granted she always had something going on in that head of hers.
"What the hell are you doing," Phillip called into the house.
Marie's raised voice filtered through the house, "Cleaning!"
Shaking his head Phillip flipped the tap on the sink up and cupped his hands beneath the water. After a moment Phillip dipped his head and splashed the water up and into his face, dragging the cool liquid through his sweat-matted hair.
"Thirty-four and you're still a mess," the curly haired woman chuckled as she appeared in the doorway, a laundry basket propped against her hip. "You know," Marie began to dig through the heap of laundry, half-heartedly sorting the clothes, "you were so cute as a kid, a handful, but cute."
Phillip's eyes rolled, the jibe on the tip of his tongue about how his mother had run off when he was a kid was swallowed, "Yeah, adorable."
The basket thunked down on the table and Marie gave an eye-roll of her own, "I have the baby pictures to prove it." The shudder was expected, Phillip wasn't exactly the kind of man that aspired to cute or adorable, in fact it was the antithesis of who he had become.
Marie's unconscious muttering and humming abruptly stopped as she pulled a small sweatshirt out from the basket.
"What the hell is this," his mother's sharp tone had Phillip's head whipping up.
She was shaking a navy sweatshirt that was too small to be Phillip's, curled across the front of it declaring "Columbia Art School" were white letters. A tightness formed in Phillip's throat, his mouth going dry as Kate's sweatshirt was dangled in front of him.
Marie shook her fisted hand, the material clenched in her fingers, "I asked you what the hell this is?" When Phillip still didn't speak Marie shook her head in frustration, it felt like old times. "Phillip!"
"It's a friend's," Phillip grumbled, hands clenching as he fought the urge to rip the prized fabric from his mother's grip.
A dry laugh erupted from Marie's mouth. It was short and filled with disbelief. "Who do you know that owns a Columbia University sweatshirt?"
"It's a friends," Phillip repeated as he snatched the fabric away, burying his fingers into the soft cotton.
"What friend of yours has college aspirations," Marie shook her head, "what the hell is going on, Phillip?"
"Nothing, okay," Phillip growled and pushed past her, towards his bedroom.
The sharp sound of Marie's palm meeting the wood table echoed, "No, not okay, Phillip!" She stormed after him, intent on finishing whatever had started. "Is it Sky?"
"What," Phillip turned as he haphazardly folded the sweatshirt and tucked it into his drawer. "No, it's not Sky. Where the hell do get this crap?"
"Sky told me you guys had dinner," Marie leaned against the door, arms crossed over her chest, a forced calm coating her.
"Yeah," Phillip admitted, "Last year, she's nice and all, but not my type."
"Don't tell her that," Marie snorted lightly, "that girl doesn't take rejection well. You should have seen what she did after her first choice college didn't accept her."
Phillip's eyes widened in surprise a little before he shrugged, "Yeah? Well, it's not her.
"Okay," Marie said slowly. "So what's going on?"
Phillip ran a hand over his face, and leaned back against the dresser, "Nothing is going on."
"Don't bullshit me," Marie huffed. "You're guarding that sweatshirt, so tell me why."
Phillip was uncomfortable. Marie was right. He was guarding Kate's sweatshirt, guarding her. Kate was the one good thing in Phillip's life. He was, understandably, defensive and possessive.
"What could be so bad that you won't tell me," Marie asked with a sigh.
There was plenty wrong with the whole thing. The fact that he had become obsessed with the last person on the planet he should, the fact that he knew it was wrong and was still seeing her, the fact that maybe she didn't hate him. There was plenty wrong. A lot of it being illegal, not to mention dangerous to Phillip's health.
Marie took the silence as any mother did. So she changed tactics, "So this girl, does she know you were in prison?"
His muscles flexed in reaction to the question. Marie was oddly intuitive when she took the time, "Yes."
"Okay, and she's not Lenape," Marie said slowly. It wouldn't make sense. The tribe wasn't so big that Marie wouldn't have heard about an Ivy hopeful.
Phillip nodded tightly, "She's not."
"Okay," it was enough for Marie, at least for the moment. "You like this girl?"
Phillip's head tipped forward, a small smile edging onto his face.
Kate sat at the kitchen table, her legs crossed beneath her as she bent over a sketch pad. The soft murmur of Rachel and Junior added to her mother's humming had Kate half distracted. She was trying to draw a rowboat floating abandoned in the center of a lake. As she adjusted the angle of her pencil the lead snapped. Kate flinched. She hated drawing with mechanical pencils.
Dropping her pencil to the table, Kate leaned back against her wooden chair. Junior had arrived early in the morning and been welcomed with open arms. It was sort of weird. Kate knew her mother was compensating for her negative emotions towards Junior by being overly nice. It was how Kate's mother seemed to be handling most things post-breakdown. All of her actions and reactions were normal, but on steroids. Like being extra normal would make up for being extra crazy.
That wasn't a fair assessment. Kate knew she was more than a little bitter. Jean was sick. She had schizophrenia and had been struggling with it alone. So Kate had been the dutiful daughter, and it had only made her more bitter. Pushing back from the table and rising, Kate gathered her sketchbook and pencils. She couldn't sit and listen to the giggling and whispers, Kate was ready to go and hide in the garage. It might be a little stuffy and hot, but at least it would be quiet.
"Where are you going," Jean's voice called, "Kate?"
Pursing her lips Kate turned around and walked back towards the dining room, "I'm going to go upstairs."
"Come on, Sweetheart," Jean smiled, extending her hand and beckoning Kate in, "come and talk with us."
Rachel nodded, a more genuine smile gracing her lips, "Yeah, come have some fun."
Forcing a smile, Kate nodded and stepped into the dining room and settled into a chair beside her mother and across from Junior.
"Hey, Kate," Junior mumbled awkwardly, clearly uncomfortable in the situation, Kate sympathized with him.
"Hi," Kate returned the greeting, folding her hands carefully in her lap, sketchbook clutched against her stomach.
"So," Rachel breathed, "You were telling us about your Uncle?"
"Yeah, Mac," Junior nodded his head.
"He's the Lenape Chief, right," the question slipped from Kate's lips before she could stop it.
Both Rachel and Jean were staring at her. Junior only nodded, "Yeah, how did you know?"
"Oh, um," she wavered, head tilting down to hide the frantic look in her eyes, "There's been a lot of news about him lately."
"Mm," Jean nodded, "There's been a lot of talk in town too."
"Well Mac's a good guy," Junior bit out, tapping his foot on the wood floor.
"And your mom," Jean questioned, "how is she?"
"She's been real busy lately, the house is pretty full some days, Phillip moved out a few days after he moved back in," Junior rattled out.
"Kopus is back," Kate watched the words come out of Rachel's mouth, the paleness of her sister's face becoming starker.
Mistaking Kate's anxiety for confusion Jean turned to her youngest daughter, "Phillip is Junior's half-brother. I grew up with him. He's come around the house a couple of times."
"Who's come around the house," Harold asked as he stepped into the room, leaning down to give Jean a kiss.
The woman leaned into his touch, "Uh, we were just talking about Phillip, Kate's never met him, so she was confused."
The chipper words made Harold stiffen, his eyes zoned in on Kate. Pure, sweet, Katie who had certainly met Phillip Kopus. They had never talked about it. When Harold had come home after the whole sorry affair had been put to bed Kate had been fast asleep. Harold had meant to bring it up, to ask her if she was okay, but he never had. The more time that passed the harder it became.
Harold still had nightmares about what happened, what could have happened. Kopus' words echoing in the corner of his mind. Kopus had worn a tiny little smirk as he asked about Kate, voice deep and slow, savoring the memory.
The subject had become taboo. It terrified Harold to think about what Kopus might have done, could have done. Neither had spoken about it, not to each other, not to anyone else.
"Yeah," Kate's soft, honey voice broke the cop from his thoughts.
Shifting his stance, Harold leaned against Kate's chair, fingers brushing against her hair. "You see him yet," the older man asked Junior, voice too airy to be natural.
"Not really," the teen shrugged, "we had a family dinner. It was fine."
"Good."
Kate kept still; she could feel the tension in her father's body, the way his fingers had tangled against a few strands of her hair, tugging painfully.
It seemed Junior could sense the hostility as well because he moved to stand, "I should get going."
"No," Rachel grabbed his hand, "please don't, I haven't seen you in forever."
"Yeah," Jean leaned across the table, "stay, I'm making steak for dinner."
An easy nod came from Harold, "You should stay, you're always welcome here, Junior."
"Thanks."
"Okay," Jean stood up, "I'm going to get started on dinner. This is going to be so much fun!" In a flash of red hair, Jean was in the kitchen noise beginning to bubble up.
Rachel had already drawn Junior back into a soft conversation, their hands linked below the table. Taking the chance of distraction, Kate slipped from the chair, knowing that her father would likely follow her rather than be left with Rachel and Junior.
"Hey," Kate was right. Harold's quick steps and soft voice stopped Kate's movement.
Shoulders curling in, Kate wrapped her arms protectively around her middle, "What's up?"
Her father stepped closer, a hand settling on her shoulder and rubbing up and down her arm. "I just wanted to check on you," he leaned a little closer.
"I'm fine," Kate played dumb, "Mom's fine."
"Okay," Harold agreed, pulling Kate into his chest, hugging her tightly. "Good."
"Kopus," Harold banged on the front door of the slightly less rundown house.
"What the hell, Harold," Kopus complained as he came around the house.
Hands braced on his hips, his right hand a little too close to his gun for the taller man's comfort, Harold glared at Phillip. "I wanted to check in on you, make sure you're staying out of trouble."
Tongue kissing his teeth, Phillip scowled and lifted the leg of his pant to display the tracking device, "Can't really get up to much with this on, but thanks for playing."
"You seen Junior," Harold pressed.
Dropping his grip on the fabric Phillip started walking again, stepping up onto the porch. "Yeah, once," Phillip sniffed, "Why, he in trouble?"
"No," Harold shook his head, "Junior's fine, just wondering."
"Yeah, well why don't you go wonder somewhere else," Phillip grunted as he picked up a concrete block and tossed it over the metal railing. "Don't you have a family to get home to or something?"
"Yeah," Harold assented tightly, "yeah I do. Stay out of trouble, Kopus."
"Whatever," the man grumbled as he stalked into the house and away from the smarmy cop who he was really trying not to punch.
"Night, Sweetheart," Harold kissed the crown of Kate's head. "Night, Rachel."
"Night, Dad," the girls chorused as he closed the door of their room.
After switching the lights off, the girls lay in silence. Kate rolled onto her side and stretched as the faint glow of Rachel's phone lit up the ceiling.
"Dad was kind of weird about Junior, right," Rachel sighed. "I mean, even Junior noticed."
"I don't think it was Junior," Kate offered, hands balling in her sheets, "I think it was that guy, Phillip."
"Yeah I guess," was the huffy reply, "but still…"
"Mom liked him," Kate tried to change the subject, offering up something happy in return for something puzzling.
Rachel sat up, the covers rustling, "Yeah, but it was kind of creepy how into talking to him she is."
"He's your boyfriend," the younger girl reminded Rachel, "and she probably feels bad for threatening to kill him or whatever."
"This family is so messed up," the words were a dejected sigh.
For once Rachel was right, Kate thought. The Jensen family was very messed up, extremely so. Between the lies, the secrets, and the favoritism, Kate was surprised they hadn't tried to kill each other.
She had genuinely tried to sleep, but Junior's visit had stirred up Kate's thoughts. She was thinking about Phillip, worrying about him really. Once Kate was sure Rachel was asleep she crept out of her bed, sliding her sock covered feet across the wood floor. Breath held tightly until her lungs burned, Kate opened her bedroom door centimeter by centimeter, terrified that a door that had never creaked in her lifetime might choose the most inopportune moment to start.
Once Kate was safely in the hallway she considered exactly what she was doing. Kate didn't have a plan per say, it was more of an odd thrumming in heart, demanding she do something. She needed to make sure he was okay, that he hadn't popped any stitches. Kate needed to hear his voice.
The door to her parents' room was half open, and she could hear the heavy breathing of both of them. Heart shuddering with adrenalin, Kate leaned her head inside the bedroom. The moonlight of late spring shone brightly, illuminating exactly what Kate was looking for: her father's cell phone. It sat alone on the bedside table. It was well within Kate's reach. All it would take would be a half step and a steady hand. Chest burning and feeling faint, Kate choked down her nerves, the reward outweighed the risk.
Hand shaking slightly Kate reached out and curled her fingers around the plastic. Eyes flicking up to make sure her parents were still asleep, Kate lifted her hand straight up, petrified that the phone might scrape against the wood. Once it was safely in her possession Kate backed out of the room and walked slowly down the hall to the stairs, forcing herself to keep her pace steady and her footsteps light.
Kate paused at the top and turned the phone on, thankfully, and rather unsurprisingly, there was no pass-code required. The nerves had and adrenalin had faded away leaving Kate feeling shaky and boneless. She tapped the screen of the phone, accessing her father's contacts. There weren't that many numbers saved in the phone, and it became immediately apparent which one was the one she was looking for.
It was the only name that didn't include a first and a last name, the only one that had only one number attached. Sliding her own phone out, Kate created a new contact, carefully typing in Phillip's phone number, adding an "a" to the end of his name. It wasn't exactly James Bond subterfuge, but Kate was running on desperation.
The number saved, Kate retraced her steps and very carefully replaced the phone. A different sort of anxiety was building inside Kate. Licking her dry lips, Kate moved back to the stairs and tiptoed downstairs. She didn't stop there; Kate went into the garage and curled up on her father's weight bench. It was late, too late to call, but Kate tapped the number anway.
Kate sat with her knees pulled against her chest, phone pressed to ear. It seemed like forever that the phone rang, Kate was half sure he wouldn't answer when a gruff voice barked, "Who the hell is this?"
Unsure of how to respond Kate could only breath out, mouth hanging open.
"Hello," Phillip grumbled, voice rough and hazy, "hello?"
"It's me," Kate finally managed to warble out. "It's me, Kate."
The voice on the other end softened immediately, "Kate? Are you okay, what's wrong?"
"Nothing," she stuttered, "I'm fine, I just wanted to make sure you were okay."
Across the line Phillip's muffled breathing echoed, creaking springs and rustling fabric falling into the background. "I'm fine," he told her, "you don't need to worry about me, Kate."
"Obviously I do," Kate told him sharply, remembering the gaping and inflamed skin that she had tried to patch up. "Someone needs to take care of you."
Phillip didn't answer right away. There wasn't an easy answer to that, not for Phillip at least. "I'm fine," he finally affirmed. "How did you get this number, Kate?"
"My dad," she answered, tucking her chin against her knees.
Phillip's voice was stiff with shock, "Harold gave you my phone number."
"Not really," Kate hedged.
"You took it then," Phillip's voice curled against Kate's ear, his amusement making her spine tingle.
"Right out of his phone," Kate confirmed.
"That's," Phillip inhaled audibly, a million words flitting in the silence. "Kate," Phillip groaned.
"Well how else was I supposed to talk to you," Kate questioned, misreading his meaning. "Every time we meet it has been by accident."
"It doesn't have to be."
The words were quiet, hesitant. Not something Kate had expected. What she knew of Phillip from others painted him as an intensely self-assured person.
"Yeah," Kate asked, smiling against her knees.
Phillip chuckled lowly, "Yeah."
"You're really okay," Kate bit her lip.
"I'm perfect," Phillip told her, "I promised someone very important that I would take care of myself, I don't want to break her heart."
"Yeah," Kate pushed back her jumpy giggles.
"Yeah," Phillip repeated. Their breathing drifted in the air, spanning the distance through crackling phone lines. At last Phillip sighed, "It's late, Katie, you should get some sleep."
Kate didn't want to hang up, but Phillip was right, "Okay."
The dejection in Kate's voice made Phillip sit up a little straighter, "I'll talk to you tomorrow."
"Night," Kate whispered.
"Goodnight, Sweetheart," Phillip exhaled as the call ended, the endearment tumbling out without thought.
Clutching her phone against her chest, Kate crept back upstairs to her bedroom. Phillip's voice ringing in her ears, the soft, gruff, warmth that made Kate's whole body tingle and her heart flutter.
Curling back under the covers Kate jumped as Rachel's hazy voice broke the stillness, "Where were you?"
"I was just getting some water," Kate lied, hoping Rachel was still mostly asleep.
Rachel twisted in her bed, "Mm, I thought I heard you talking."
"You must have been dreaming," Kate gulped down a panicky squeak.
"Mkay, night Kate," Rachel yawned, body twisting again and thumping against the mattress.
Lying back, Kate sank beneath the covers, tucking them beneath her body, cocooning herself in warmth. Eyes closed tightly against the soft glow of the moon, Kate's toes curled and a smile broke across her face as she thought about Phillip. She felt shaky and a little sick. But in a good way.
A/N: I know this has taken me a while. It has been a rough couple of weeks, but I'm starting to feel a little more balanced. I really appreciate all of the lovely feedback (it astounds me every time someone reviews how supportive you all are), and the acceptance for this pairing. I have really fallen for Kate & Phillip and I hope that love comes across in my construction. Hopefully I should have another chapter up soon, so let me know what you think!