Ahh, this chapter. I loved writing this, because who doesn't love the Rachel-Philip dynamic. It's just love-care with a few firm boundaries in between, and sometimes they were affectionately crossed. I had to explore it here, so I hope you like it!

Please leave a review if you can. I'd really like to know your thoughts. :)

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10. Home Truths

The next morning

It was no longer a kitchen, but a battle ground. Despite the piercing early morning sunlight, it still gave a taste of war - albeit a defeated one.

He entered the kitchen and saw her sitting there, head on her arms, resting on the kitchen island. The cup of tea steamed, abandoned. It had clearly been a night of little sleep. He knew she was in the spare room. Despite being a teenager, he could always read her well. Always knew when to push the boundary and when not to overstep the mark. They had an understanding, but at times, she was still a total mystery. A complicated person, though not as volatile or unpredictable as his mother.

"Rachel.. are you ok?" He cut the quietness with the ask, gently entering the room. Fragile, not wanting to cause alarm. He looked timid; apprehensive at the sight in front of him. She looked up, caught off guard, unaware that he had entered the kitchen. Flustered.

"Yeah, I'm-.." she sighed. Fine, she was about to say, while she sat there combating emotional exhaustion and unwelcome waves of sickness in the pit of her stomach. It was part of the course; another stark reminder that she needed to sort this mess out, and fast. "I'm ok."

He could tell she felt awkward and exposed. He gave her space to say something, or nothing at all. Soon, she cut the silence to save him. Rachel knew he'd cripple in panic otherwise.

"I'm sorry you had to hear all that last night." She said, sadly, not wanting to go too much into it. Only now did she take a sip of her tea. She hoped for his sake he didn't hear it all, and for that she silently pleaded to the gods. The cuff of her jumper was a welcome distraction, the perfect place to avert her gaze; she fiddled with it as an escape.

"It's fine," he began, not too sure on what to say. Now probably wasn't the best time to tell her that he heard it all - every last, deeply personal detail of their altercation. It was far too much for an 18 year old to fully comprehend. "I'm sorry for dropping you in it."

Rachel's eyes now caught his and she sighed at his comment - his apology. There was, truly, no need. Once again he had been placed in the middle of some very adult drama, albeit this time it was her doing. The guilt panged at her.

"You don't need to apologise, Phil," it was honest, truthful. A tone of sadness, reflecting. "It's my fault, entirely."

Philip was lost for words, like the air had been punched out of him. He had never had a conversation with her that verged on something so personal. There wasn't anything he could say to this without divulging that he knew all. Instead, he did what his aunt always did - occupied himself; a distraction. He grabbed a box of cereal out of the cupboard, one eye firmly on her in anticipation for any further outpouring. But there was nothing, and he felt a desperate need to fill the void; to give context.

"Mum just… blurted it out," he began, fragile, cereal clanging. Her eyes caught him again, and he paused. The bowl was now quiet. "She was kicking off. The usual… about everything." By that Rachel assumed it involved her, Eddie, or whatever else her sister had gotten her teeth into.

"Don't worry about it," she reassured, in an attempt to ensure he didn't carry guilt. Her shutdown was also for her own protection - she didn't want to talk about this anymore, given the uncertainties. Especially not with her nephew who, at eighteen, didn't need a new moral dilemma to contend with. Usually she was the one lecturing kids on their decisions; a narrative about actions and consequences. And now, here she was. The perfect hypocrite.

Silence fell upon them again, neither knowing where to go. Philip was well aware of the incredibly personal information he had wrongly come to hold. He was perched right in the middle of his aunt and uncle's relationship - a front row seat to the drama. Uncomfortably close. The secrets; stuff that typically sat behind closed doors. Things that they still managed to hide from him, despite him occasionally overstaying his welcome for a few days at a time. His bedroom still remained in her house untouched. It would always remain as his sanctuary; a safe haven.

What's worse was that Philip felt an inherent need to help, to protect her as she protected him, but he didn't know how to. If anything, he didn't fully understand Rachel and Adam and the dynamics of their relationship. Maybe he was still too young and naive, despite his now-adult appearance. They were always fiery, bouncing one one another in amazing - and sometimes terrible - ways. From what he observed it was a fairly sharp and intense relationship, not like others he had seen before, yet they kept each other going. But it also went from the highest of highs to crashing arguments fairly quickly. They clearly loved each other, but something occasionally stuck. Friction. Volatile. Qualms of a marriage, he supposed.

"I don't get you two sometimes."

It was an honest statement, perhaps a little quiet. Maybe it was meant to remain in his head, but it accidentally surfaced out loud. Rachel was surprised at his remark. This teenager teetered on the edge of adult, about to offer commentary wise beyond his years. She watched him, curious, a subtle narrowing of her eyes that encouraged him it was safe to continue.

"One minute you're all over each other and the next,..."

Philip paused, taking stock of where he was - a realisation hit him that he was really telling her this out loud. He had overstepped the mark, he was certain, but she silently forced him to continue. He had gone there, so was obliged to finish it.

"The next, you're having a blazing row. Arguing over nothing. Well, not nothing, but…"

Rachel knew he was right, despite his adolescence. Maybe she just hadn't seen it before. Never had confirmation that her and Adam were occasionally foes as much as allies. Frantic in all senses of the word, depending on the context. They were two headstrong people who frequently clashed but loved each other dearly. There was an intensity to their relationship. As she took this in, she observed her nephew - before her eyes he had transformed, and was no longer the child she had attempted to guide for so long.

"But he'd do anything for you though… you know that."

She couldn't believe Philip was sat in front of her saying this, consoling her like a counsellor. Normally she'd have shut him down by this point, but she didn't have the strength. Maybe she also needed to hear the truth. And who was she to override him? She didn't have a leg to stand on.

"He's done a lot for me too."

That, as it pained her, was true. They had gotten on so well, right from the off. Adam had made a real effort with Philip and it showed. The number of times she'd come home from wherever and found them bantering like two kids over some ridiculous thing on the games console. They were a right pair, aided by beers. Adam's relaxed judgement, of course. It was a case of beer. Who cares. Maybe it was a male thing. Bonding. Nonetheless she was so relieved, thankful. In this short time he had befriended him so well, offering him advice and being as supportive as he could've been. He'd been a saving grace for Philip, ultimately giving him what she couldn't alone.

"And…" he began, preparing for the dangerous shot. Before it came a pause, a slight deep breath, "If I had a dad like Adam growing up, I'm sure parts of my life would be different."

She audibly groaned at his comment - a warning sign to Philip. It was too close for comfort, and her head met her palm. This line hit her and he knew it would. It was threatening; uncomfortably so. Now it was very personal. It was a stark realisation that Philip really did hear everything last night. Every last detail. Rachel also sighed at her own idiocy for not snuffing out this conversation earlier.

"Phil-" she attempted to interject, desperately and in despair. She was willing for him to stop, still reeling from the realisation that he knew everything there was to know. She wondered what he now thought of her, given what he had heard.

"No, hear me out." Philip was firm. Adult. This was bizarre and excruciating. She couldn't believe he - her nephew - was speaking these words. This now grown-up. "Please, whatever you do, sort this out with a level head," he paused, for an anxious breath, proud he had told her this despite their usual power hierarchy. "Don't be shooting off like mum and making rash decisions."

A lump in the throat caught her. She never realised how he may have seen this; interpreted things. Complexities of relationships, given the poor models he had seen from his mother growing up. Yet still he held such rational judgement, wise beyond his years. He was intelligent, that was a given, but also unduly astute. At this moment he had a strange hold on her; the upper hand to give her a stern talking to. But this wasn't his place. It was dangerous ground, despite her love and care for him, and she needed him to know that. It was something he had to learn in adulthood - this was a considered, fine balance.

"Philip, I can't talk about this with you."

Rachel gave a subtle shake of the head, somewhat in disbelief, but also in firm, loving warning to stop right there. It was a line delivered with appreciation but with a new, clear cut boundary. She needed to keep him out of it. Moving off from her seat was cue that he was to say no more - the chess pieces had moved. A rightfully-considered caution that this - her baby - wasn't a conversation for him. It was out of bounds, too mature, despite his concern. Philip saw the signs and said no more.

"I know…" he paused, firmly told off but pleased he had vocalised the words. Now he abandoned this adult form, reeling back into teenage state. "But I just needed to tell you that."

As she tipped the remainder of her tea down the sink, she turned to look at him. He had done so well, and she was proud. This kid had overcome adversity and yet here he was, still so considered and balanced. She'd always protect him, and could never be angry at him. Frustrated yes, but never disapproving. Absent of words, she made her way towards him, and pulled him into a hug as he sat on the stool, breakfast now abandoned. He was taken off guard, somewhat surprised by her response, having instead prepared himself for a lecture. She longed there for a few moments, like a protective mother goose. Philip knew that she needed this far more than he did.

She pulled back from him. The mood was reset, and she was back in control. Her chess pieces were winning.

"What are you doing today?" She asked, quietly. Another distraction tactic - Philip knew her all too well. He was to forget what they had just spoken about, and to also recognise that this wasn't a question of interest. Rather, Rachel was laying the groundwork to shuffle him out of the battle lines.

"Dunno… I was going to see Bolton."

"Ok..." she began, quietly, mustering what she could. He watched, knowing there was an addition to come next. Philip waited for the cue. "Not here, please," she said, hushed.

He nodded in confirmation. It was a given. He needed to get out of the way, and preferably before Adam woke up.

"Just… make yourself scarce for a bit." She said, turning to grasp another set of keys off the hook by the cupboard. She held them in front of him, and was met with a confused look. "For the flat." He understood. It was an escape route. He couldn't hold back his smile as she handed them to him. Quickly, realisation came over him.

"Are you sure?" he asked. His tone was inoffensively loaded. What he really wanted to ask was whether taking Adam's flat was a good idea after what had happened the night before. It was implied enough in his tone.

"Yes, we got it ready for you."

Philip took this in as she continued to potter about the kitchen - she didn't want to be questioned. He supposed the use of 'we' was promising, at least. Absent of a response from Philip, Rachel turned to check on him. He clocked her looking at him, and he met her with a small smile.

"Thanks Rach," he offered, gently yet with such gratitude. Despite the circumstances he felt at peace, knowing how lucky he was. Rachel had saved him countless times over the years, and this was just another instance. There was nothing he could say in his awkward, adolescent glory that could convey this enough. But he didn't need to - she knew.

"Anyway, I need to get ready," she said, a little too upbeat in an attempt to portray normality. She made his way to him at the breakfast bar, offering him one last hug. She was never normally this tactile and clingy, but emotions ran high. Hormones, probably. "So, be good, don't trash the place."

"Yeah, yeah," he quipped after her, as she left the room.

The keys sat proudly in his hand. Now it was time to run.