The next morning, Barnum woke with chills and a cold.

Charity acted as nurse, being sure to keep the girls from the room. She enlisted in Anne's help to keep them occupied, and the young woman played with the children in the living room while their parents remained upstairs.

Phillip should have felt something at seeing Anne. He'd once professed his attraction to her while living, and he should have wanted to see her again - the prospect of seeing her, but not being able to communicate with her should have filled him with a painful mixture of love and misery.

Instead, though, he remained with Barnum. The home was big and he could not hear Anne's laughter or the squeals of Barnum's young daughters while he toted on the ringmaster.

He couldn't help but feel a little guilty - had his kiss caused this? Had Barnum's body - strong as it was, Phillip could not ignore that the man was steadily crossing middle-aged - rejected the abrupt, icy chill of his lips, plummeting the man into sickness?

Phillip sat by the door, legs stretched out, head against the wall as he watched Barnum. He'd started complaining of a headache a little while ago and, according to Charity, he'd started running a low-grade fever around that point, too - he'd been in and out of a fever-induced slumber since then.

He was sleeping now, but, as Charity pressed a cool rag to his forehead, he startled awake. He groaned.

"Phillip," he called out.

Phillip jolted.

"Phillip, Phillip," the man's words slurred with exhaustion. Charity leaned back, startled, the rag falling from her hand to the bed.

Hesitantly, Phillip stood and approached him. Barnum moaned in pain, but his eyes managed to focus on the whispy figure that only he could see.

"Phillip," he sighed again, eyes starting to flutter close once more with sleep. His hand fell from his chest to the mattress. Charity shook her head and returned the rag to his hot, flushed skin.

Hesitantly, Phillip reached out. The warm, solid weight of Barnum's hand in his comforted him and he focused his energy - he thought he was starting to become a little stronger, but perhaps that was only wishful thinking - on lacing his fingers with Barnum's. Slowly, he rubbed the pad of his thumb in circles across the man's palm.

On the brink of consciousness, Barnum sighed heavily as he was lulled back into sleep, the tiniest of smiles - the first Phillip had seen from him since his passing - on his lips.