On the night of the first show since the fire, Barnum paced back and forth. Tugging at his hair, tears in his eyes.

"I can't do this," he muttered. "I can't, I can't."

"Barnum?" Lettie poked her head into the backstage room and Barnum's head snapped up. He didn't look her in the eye and she couldn't see the tears. "We're on in five."

Barnum nodded and she disappeared from sight. He muttered something to himself, something that not even Phillip - who stood in the corner with his arms crossed, concerned eyes watching the ringmaster's every move - could hear.

"You have to go on, P.T.," Phillip murmured.

Barnum lifted his head and Phillip's breath caught in his throat. But the older man made no sign of acknowledgment and Phillip let out an unnecessary breath.

Barnum shook his head. He rubbed his face and pressed his hands to his eyes.

"I can't," he muttered. A deep, shuddering breath rattled his chest. "I have to cancel, I have to—"

"Please," Phillip whispered.

Barnum paused again, hands still pressed to his face.

Phillip gulped. "For me."

Barnum stood, frozen. Then, slowly, he lowered his hands from his eyes.

"For Phillip," he muttered.

His hand unknowingly passed through Phillip's as he rushed by.