The X-Philes

Chapter 1

 Phil's hands were tucked carefully in his pockets as he sat in the row of chairs in the doorway of his local police station, playing with the earbuds he took with him everywhere he went. The secretary had asked his name and his business and told him that she'd have someone come over soon to take his statement and file a report, writing as she spoke. He'd never done anything like this before, and he was nervous.

A detective with a badge around his neck beckoned Phil over from the doorway where he loomed and Phil followed him to his desk. Phil noticed he had the piece of paper in his hand. The detective took a seat in his own chair and Phil sat in the one by the side of the desk facing him.

"Alright, Phil Lester, my name is Daniel Howell, I'm a detective here with the Litchfield police department. It says here that you want to file a missing person's report on one Martyn Lester, your older brother?"

"That is correct."

Dan started taking his own notes on the piece of paper.

"And when was the last time you spoke to your brother?" Dan asked.

"Six years ago."

Dan blinked and wrote down what Phil had told him.

"And you think he's missing because..." Phil knew- not thought- his brother was dead, and subsequently missing.

"I'm a psychic and I saw his ghost."

Dan sighed, his mouth contorting into what almost looked like a smile before breathing out deeply.

"And where did he appear to you?"

"At the foot of my bed."

"And did he say anything to you?"

"No."

The detective shifted in his seat.

"Do you have a current address for him? I'd be more than happy to call for a welfare check on him," Dan smiled. Phil could hear the strain that keeping a professional affect was taking on his voice. Phil felt his shoulders drop, just a little: they couldn't really droop much more. There had only been a spark of hope that the police would take him seriously. There wasn't any wind to be let out of his sails.

"Six thirty crescent street. In Massachusetts."

Phil watched as Dan pulled out a slip from a folder on his desk, dating it October 6th and filling out the rest of the boxes.

When he was finished, Dan set his pen down and looked around.

Phil sensed a shift in Dan's demeanor but kept his eyes on the officer's badge.

"You know what? Let's go do the welfare check ourselves," Dan insisted, getting up from his desk.

Phil stared up with a confused, blank expression.

"Right now?" He asked, because he wasn't really sure what else to ask.

"Yup, I'm up for a drive, you?"

"A-as long as you aren't too busy," Phil stuttered.

"It's my job," Dan smiled, and Phil got up and placed his hands back in his pockets as Dan grabbed the keys to his car. Together they left the precinct.

Phil followed Dan towards an older, classic looking car. Dan unlocked the doors and moved a stack of papers off the passenger seat, sticking them in the back on the floor. Phil hunched over and slid into the car.

Phil naturally adjusted to the precedents Dan set in his own space. Dan didn't talk as they buckled in and he plugged the address into his phone's navigator. Dan didn't talk as he turned the volume down on the radio and started the car. Dan didn't talk as they pulled out of the parking lot and onto the road, and so Phil stared out the window in solemn silence, not quite sure how to come to terms with his brother's death.