Estrangements (Phan AU)

Tale

noun

• a narrative or story; a fictitious account, a lie; idle or malicious gossip.

Phil finds a picture, begging the government systems to give him one, and tucks it away in his pocket after memorizing the last known features of the boy he's been sent to locate. It sits in the cavity of his slacks like a fifty pound weight, each step he takes reminding him of the importance placed on his task.

He's worried. He's not entirely sure what will happen if he can't find this kid, which is looking like a viable outcome more and more with each passing day, but he knows it won't be good. Shaun will be devastated, will never sleep soundly and never look at him the same and probably never look at anyone the same. He'll sit in his office and waste away with wonder over the son he never got to meet, watch the city like it's failed him by hiding his child from him, spend the rest of his life wondering and worrying and hoping for something he'll never have.

Yeah. Phil really needs to find this guy.

It's not until two weeks have passed that he receives his first real lead in the form of a homeless woman down the street from the intricately carved fountain in the center of the city. She scowls, peers at him suspiciously as he approaches, but dissolves into what could almost be construed as a smile when he flashes her the picture from his pocket.

"Oh, Troye," she mutters, the smile disappearing as she eyes Phil even more skeptically now. "Yeah, I know him."

"Really?" Phil perks up, eyes bright with hope as the thin film of paper in his grasp suddenly loses twenty metaphorical pounds.

"Yeah. He borrows my hat sometimes, doesn't have one of his own. I reckon it's to gather all that change up in, but maybe his ears just get cold."

"Um," Phil replies, frowning. He shifts his weight uncomfortably, his pristine suit and polished shoes seeming so out of place next to her bare feet. "That's nice. Where is he?"

She shrugs entirely unhelpfully, more disinterested than unknowing, and picks at the edge of the paper coffee cup he'd offered her earlier. The steaming liquid within has been depleted to half its original height, the remaining beverage clasped between her hands to return her fingers to their healthily dark colour, rather than the suspicious purple they'd been leaning towards a few minutes before. "He hangs around that guy at the park sometimes. Nice lads, both of them. The older one's a bit of an ass, but I'd figure he means well."

Nodding excitedly, Phil grins down at her. He drops her a twenty dollar bill, resisting the urge to roll his eyes when her demeanor immediately shifts to something more pleasant, and waves haphazardly while retreating. She probably means the park a ten minute walk from here, two minutes in his car.

He can't help the grin that stretches across his features as he sinks into the driver's seat, his chest feeling less and less constricted at the prospect of an actual lead. He may find this elusive teenager yet.