Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The first thing Phoenix noticed was the pounding headache. It filled the space between his eyes, furiously pressing against his skull. He couldn’t see, or breathe, or move. For a terrifying moment, he couldn’t even remember his own name.

But just as quickly as it appeared, the pain passed. It was all gone, leaving nothing but a reeling numbness. He went still, breathing deeply, feeling fuzzy. His face was pressed against the ground. Concrete. No. Asphalt? Something uncomfortable. The air around him was cool, and it certainly smelled like he was outside. A combination of dirt, gasoline, and garbage. He cracked an eye open, wincing for a moment at the daylight before his eyes adjusted.

He was…in an alley? Sitting up, he took a good look around. He was in a back alley. He could see the street farther ahead, but it seemed to be deserted as well. All was quiet.

Alright, Phoenix. Why are you in an alley? He climbed to his feet, looking around some more, trying to make sense of everything. He was in his work clothes. So it was a work day, then. He didn’t seem to be hurt. His clothes were dirty from lying on the ground, but nothing else indicating a fall. Tentatively, he prodded the back of his head. He was wearing his beanie, which was odd for a work day, but no notable bumps or bruises. Nothing that stood out, at least.

“Well, this isn’t a repeat of the Byrde trial,” he muttered, cracking his neck. He reached into his pocket, fishing out his phone. “3:46, huh?” That was an odd time to wander off. Did he have a case he was investigating?

…why didn’t he remember?

What was the last thing Phoenix had been doing? He frowned to himself, furrowing his brows. He was…probably at work. Right? And…he remembers Athena talking to him. Telling him about…some psychology mumbo jumbo. And he left to do…what?

He had to have some point of reference, but truth be told, he couldn’t even remember waking up.

“Maybe I should call someone,” he muttered to himself. Trucy maybe? Edgeworth? He flipped open his phone and dialed Trucy first. Hopefully she wouldn’t be worried. She was out of school now, wasn’t she? He hoped he wasn’t supposed to pick her up or—

“We’re sorry. The number you are dialing is no longer available. Please hang up and try again.”

“……huh?”

He looked at the phone. Trucy’s name flashed back as the number hung up. Did he type it wrong? He quickly dialed again.

“We’re sorry. The number you are dialing is no longer available. Please hang up and try again.”

“What the hell?” He dialed again, and—

“We’re sorry. The number you are dialing—”

—furiously hung back up. “What the hell!” he repeated. Had Trucy broken her phone? That had happened once before, in a magic trick gone wrong. Though usually she’d let him know somehow. He started walking as he typed in the next number. Edgeworth may know what was going on. Sometimes Phoenix joked that the only reason they’d started dating was so Phoenix would have a working calendar. He always knew what was happening. At the very least, Edgeworth was a licensed driver.

“We’re sorry. The number you are dialing is no longer available. Please hang up and try again.”

“Excuse me?” He pulled the phone away and—nope, that was definitely Edgeworth’s number, not Trucy’s. Maybe his phone was busted?

Something about this didn’t feel right.

His heart beat against his chest. One more. One more and he’d know for certain. He typed in Athena’s number. “Alright, as long as it’s just my phone,” he muttered. “I can just get back to the office and…”

The phone rang. And rang. And rang. And then, “You’ve reached Athena Cykes. I’m not available at the moment. If you wish to schedule an appointment, please call the offices and we will get back to you shortly.”

“…appointment?”

“If not, please leave your name, number, and message, and I will return your call at the earliest convenience.”

The phone beeped, almost making him jump. For a moment, the words weren’t coming out. “H-Hey, Athena. Trucy and Edgeworth’s phones aren’t working. Call me back when you can.” He hung up, mind attempting to process this information. He reached Athena’s voicemail, which meant that his phone wasn’t busted. So what happened to Trucy and Edgeworth?

He stepped out of the alley, and glanced around. His eye caught a familiar grocery store sign, and he felt what may have been three tons of pressure ease from his shoulder. He was only a few blocks from the office. Heck, he could see People Park from here, just a sliver of green in the cold gray of the city. He usually cut this way when he needed to walk to the prosecutors’ office. Maybe that was where he’d been heading? Still, he decided to make his way back toward his own office.

He started off down the street, debating if he should call Apollo. But something about his rising panic was telling him to hold off. He tried to sort through his thoughts.

Okay. I woke up in an alley. No idea why. Trucy and Edgeworth’s phones aren’t working. Maybe it’s a connection problem. And… He bit his lip, finally letting the weirdest part of that whole experience cross his mind.

Athena’s voicemail was just…odd. That, weirdly enough, was throwing him off the most. Because why on earth would she suddenly change her voicemail? That was not her voicemail this morning. This voicemail was certainly her voice, but it sounded so flat. And what did she mean by make an appointment? People usually just barged into the agency.

He turned the corner, and let out a breath of relief. There was the WAA building, just ahead. Just like always. He was half expecting it to have moved or something. But that’d be ridiculous. He broke out into a jog, past the Gatewater Hotel and up toward the entrance to the office building. Apollo would be in the office still. He usually knew what was going on.

Phoenix took the stairs two at a time, and ran up to the door of the Wright Anything Agency. It swung faster than he intended, crashing open. “Apollo!”

A young woman behind a desk jumped, spilling a pile of papers into her lap. “Oh!” she said, grabbing at the fluttering sheets and looking up.

Phoenix blinked at her. She blinked back. Finally, she seemed to regain her composure. “Yes, hello, welcome to Smith Wellness Incorporated. Do you have some sort of appointment?”

Phoenix opened and closed his mouth, trying to make some sort of noise. The office he was in was clean, far cleaner than the Agency, or even Wright and Co., had ever been. There was a small sitting area, several framed newspapers and plaques.

“Sorry,” he croaked finally. “Wrong floor.”

“Ah, alright. Have a nice day!” She gave a relieved smile as he ducked out of the room.

Great, now he was just an idiot. How on earth did he get off on the wrong floor? He frowned at the plaque on the wall as he started off. Smith Wellness Inc. He certainly didn’t remember a company moving in here. What floor was that even on? He glanced over at the number on the door.

But the room number was the same as the WAA.

Midstep, he froze. Then he about-faced and strode back to the door. Why was he breaking out into a cold sweat? “Excuse me miss, but this is where my office is supposed to be.”

The woman jumped again, re-knocking over her files as he burst inside. “Wh—Pardon me, sir?”

“This is the Wright Anything Agency,” he said. “Fifth floor, room 502. Facing the Gatewater Hotel.”

“I-I’m sorry?”

“This is the Wright Anything Agency,” he repeated, louder than he meant to. “Previously the Wright And Co. Law Offices. Previously the Fey and Co. Law Offices. This is my office. We practically live here, where is everyone?!”

Now this woman looked positively alarmed. “Sir, I’m sorry, but I don’t understand what you’re talking about—”

“Did someone pay you to do this?” He could hear his voice shaking. “Is this a prank? Where is Trucy? Apollo? Athena? Whoever put you up to this, it’s not funny!”

“Sir, this is the Smith Wellness Offices,” the woman said, moving to stand behind her chair. “It’s been the Wellness Offices for almost a decade.”

“A decade?!” The panic was practically strangling him now. “I’ve owned this place for a decade! I have all the paperwork, it’s been in the news, I practically inherited it from Mia, I lived here for a few years—”

“Sir, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Her knuckles were turning white as she gripped the chair in front of her. “I-If you don’t leave I’m going to have to call the police.”

“Where is everyone?!” His voice had gone up an octave. “Where is Trucy?! Where’s Apollo?! Athena?!”

“Sir, please!”

A door opened behind the woman. An older gentleman with a stern face peaked out, holding a phone. “What is going on out here?”

“Sir, if you don’t leave, we will be forced to call the police.”

“Wha…where…this is…” Phoenix was feeling dizzy. Turning wildly, he caught sight of the newspapers, framed on the wall.

Smith Wellness Inc., awarded best new business, 2018

Interview with Garth Smith, local business owner. April 2020

Smith Wellness promoting community health. January 2023

There were pictures of a portly middle-aged gentleman. One had him standing in front of the building. One was in the office across for the Gatewater Hotel. They were framed, presented proudly to whomever would look. The tops of the frames looked like they could use a bit of dusting.

“Hello, I'm at Smith Wellness, t-there’s a man in our office causing a disturbance and…” The young woman’s voice filtered through his racing thoughts, and he stumbled to the door.

“I’m leaving! I made a mistake!” He slammed the door behind him and ran.

///

“We’re sorry. The number you are dialing is no longer available. Please hang up and try again.”

Phoenix sat on the stoop outside of his apartment complex, listening to the recording again. The recording transferred to beeping, and he continued to listen. Just beeping. Incessant. Constant. His mind raced. The beeping continued. The world’s worst metronome, to match the dizzying pace of his whirling thoughts, a punctuation of What? What? What? What?

Finally, the door behind him opened. Phoenix looked up to see his landlord peaking from behind the door.

“I’m sorry, but we have no record of anyone by that name living here.”

“Maybe you’re spelling it wrong,” Phoenix said numbly, turning back toward his phone. “It’s Wright. W-R-I-G-H-T. Like the Wright Brothers.”

“I know how it’s spelled,” the man snapped irritably. “I checked Wright, Right, Write, and Rite. I even looked up Wraighte. No Wright, W or otherwise, has ever rented a room here.”

Running a hand over his face, Phoenix let out a sigh. “Right. Well. Thanks anyway, Mr. Lorde.”

“Hope you get your living situation sorted out, sir,” Mr. Lorde replied, and he shut the door, locking it with a faint click.

“We’re sorry. The number you are dialing is no longer available. Please hang up and try again.”

He hung up. His head fell into his hands.

The Wright Anything Agency was gone.

His apartment was gone.

Trucy and Edgeworth, were they gone?

Was Phoenix Wright…gone…?

He shook his head quickly. That was absurd. He was right here. He was right here. He pinched himself just to check, and yes, it felt very real. There had to be some sort of explanation for this.

Memory loss? No, because it wasn’t like he was years in the future and just forgot. Identity theft? That didn’t explain how some other office moved into his in a day. Was he just going crazy?

“Come on, Phoenix. Think.” He smacked the base of his hand against his temple, trying to concentrate. What was he doing before he woke up? How did he get here? He must’ve woken up in the apartment at some point. He put on his work clothes and went to work. He must’ve seen someone this morning before…

“I’m just tired, is all,” he said, trying his best not to look irritated.

“Well, still. Doesn’t mean people can’t worry, boss,” Athena replied. She was sitting cross-legged on the couch in the main office, finishing her udon noodles. The smell of spiced broth filled the whole room as she slurped them down. “Maladaptive thoughts lead to maladaptive behavior, as they say.”

“Who says that?”

“People.” Another slurp. “I’m just saying. You just sound really…upset today, y’know? Like something happened that you’re trying to hold in. And that’s not healthy.”

“I’m fine. Really. I just…” He closed his eyes a moment. “I’m just tired. Like…like I just want the whole world to disappear for a bit. Have you ever just wished it could stop? Like sometimes it’d just be…easier to stop existing for a bit?”

Athena paused, swallowing her latest gulp. “I mean…yes, but I got therapy for it. Is something wrong, Mr. Wright…?”

“I just said I’m fine!” He grabbed his coat off of a nearby stool. “I’m going to grab lunch. I’ll see you in a few.”

“Mr. Wright—”

He let the door slam shut behind him.

Just as suddenly as it came, the memory left, leaving Phoenix hunched over the stoop of what should’ve been his apartment building.

That had happened earlier today. That had only just happened earlier today. Before he could register it, he was on his feet. That’s right, he’d been talking to Athena. She said he was upset. About what? What had happened earlier?

And he’d…wished he didn’t exist?

Was that right? No, he didn’t say that. He asked if Athena had ever thought about not existing. He didn’t make that wish. It was hypothetical. And even if he did, that couldn’t be possible. He couldn’t just wish himself out of existence. Could he?

Never existed.

If Phoenix never existed.

He lowered his hands. He hadn’t even realized they’d moved to tug on his own hair. If Phoenix never existed.

Slowly, he pulled out his phone again. He dialed another number, knowing what the response would be. He watched as he typed in another number he knew by heart. A number belonging to Maya Fey.

“We’re sorry. The number you are dialing is no longer available. Please hang up and try again.”

If Phoenix never existed…

Chapter Text

The Law Library was an imposingly rectangular building. Marble, stone, red brick, and concrete, several stories high, standing in the center of a small patch of greenery. Phoenix always made it a point to live near the library. Books, law and otherwise, were often comforting when he could spare the time and read. It was useful, it was free, and in a pinch, he could always count on libraries to have his back. And when he was struggling financially, the library was a safe bet to have some free internet.

And weirdly enough, free internet was exactly what he wanted right now.

“Good afternoon sir,” a librarian greeted, before her face fell. Phoenix gave her a wary smile, and strode on past. As he went, he glanced down at himself. Work clothes, covered in dirt. Work shoes, scuffed. He was still wearing his beanie. Even just glancing at a few college students, he could tell his dirty semi-middle-aged self stood out. Not exactly the usual customer, he guessed.

He made his way quickly and quietly through the building, anxiety building in his chest with each step. It pressed violently against his ribcage, harder and harder, as he sat down. His fingers were shaking. His palms were soaked in sweat. He let his fingertips run over the keyboard a few times before booting up the computer.

He paused again when he brought up a web search. Just type, Phoenix. Just type. Slowly, he began.

‘Maya Fey’

Finger hovering above the Enter key, he shut his eyes. “None of this is real,” he whispered to himself, hitting enter. “None if this is real. Everything is fine. None of this is real, and everything is okay.” And he cracked his eye open.

Twisted Sisters: Teenager Charged With Murder of Older Sister

Local Defense Attorney Found Dead In Office. Sister Charged With Homicide.

Maya Fey Execution Set For—

He deleted the window.

Bile rose in his mouth. His eyesight started to blur. His heart pounded. Not real, he told himself, tapping his fingers on the desk. This isn’t real. Maya is fine. You spoke to her this week.

Now he was shaking, no outlet for this sudden spike of adrenaline. He flexed his fingers, set them back on the keyboard, and tried to take a breath. He was almost afraid to keep typing. Who should he search for next? For a moment, Edgeworth passed through his mind, but even just thinking about that was too much. He had an idea where Edgeworth was. And it wasn’t pretty.

He opted for a safer name. Someone he never defended in court. Someone he really, really wanted to know the whereabouts of. He typed.

‘Trucy Wrig—’

Pause. Delete.

‘Trucy Enigmar’

Instantly, an article appeared.

Gramarye Trial Ends in Disappearing Act. Police Baffled

That’s…okay. That’s okay. Shadi Enigmar disappeared, just like usual. But what about Trucy? He clicked the link and did a search for Trucy’s name. Ah, there, at the bottom. “Enigmar leaves behind his daughter, Trucy (8). Attempts have been made to contact any living relatives, but so far all attempts have been unsuccessful.”

Living, yes. Contactable, no. He ran a hand through his hair, inhaling through his nose. He made another quick scroll, but other than that article, there was nothing. No Facebook or Instagram. No magic shows or venues. Usually, in searches for Trucy Wright, you could at least fine those. But Trucy was just gone. Unless she had a different last name.

As far as Phoenix could tell, he was in an alternate reality. One where he never existed. That means he never adopted Trucy. That means he never entered a courtroom. That means he never defended anyone. That means…

That means…

He typed a name without really meaning to, and hit enter.

Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth Charged With Murder

Local Star Prosecutor Accused Of Killing Defense Attorney

“Miles Edgeworth Chooses Death” Body of the Demon Prosecutor Found In Cell

He didn’t even remember standing up. Or stumbling backward. But suddenly, he was in the bathroom, retching violently into the toilet.

Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth chooses death. Miles Edgeworth thought he killed his father. Miles was gone. Miles was just gone.

Maya was gone. Miles was gone.

Phoenix was gone.

The world lurched. He retched again. Hands shaking. Slumping sideways against the stall wall. Ears ringing. Eyesight spotting. Chest constricting. Gone. Gone. Gone.

Breathe, he told himself. Breathe. Stay awake. And then, No, wake up. Wake up, Phoenix. He pinched himself. He pinched harder. He let his nails dig into his skin. Wake up, Phoenix. Was he bruising? Was he drawing blood? Wake up, Phoenix. This isn’t real, so wake up!

He squeezed until the pain was almost unbearable. As he let go, it continued to throb. He slumped back against the wall, thoroughly exhausted, letting his hand fall. That’s the moment he should’ve woken up. That was the moment most people woke up. What woke people up in the movies?

“There’s no place like home,” Phoenix rasped, voice cracking. His voice echoed back against the bathroom walls. Silence. “There’s no place like home. I’ve learned my lesson. I wanna live again, Clarence. I wanna live again.” No one, nothing, answered him. “I wanna live again…”

He wasn’t sure how long it took to regain his composure, but eventually, he did. Another minute after that, Phoenix straightened his legs, clambering back to his feet. They threatened to give way, but he used the momentum of wanting to fall to guide himself back toward the computer.

This isn’t real, he told himself again, collapsing into the chair. But I’m not waking up soon. And I need to know where my friends are.

He unlocked the computer and clicked on the final article. Edgeworth had, of course, left a note, detailing his guilty conscience, apologizing to the world. He had no will, and much of his property went to the von Karmas. Nothing more to note. He pulled up another search, trying to decide what he was willing to find.

‘Larry Butz’

Enter

Couple Accused of Grand Theft Auto, Possession With Intent To Distribute, Resisting Arrest

“Excuse me?!” He ignored a pointed “Shhh” from nearby as he clicked the article.

“After a tense chase, local couple Larry Butz (21) and Veronica Crooke (22) were arrested this morning in possession of a stolen car. A search of the vehicle found various drugs and related paraphernalia.”

Suddenly, he was laughing. It caught him by surprise. He laughed, doubling over. He laughed, feeling the tears finally starting to spill over. It wasn’t funny. It really wasn’t. But what the actual hell?!

“Am I all of Larry’s impulse-control?” he whispered, grinning despite himself.

Because on the one hand, what the hell. But on the other hand, Larry Freaking Butz gets arrested Two Years before his murder case?! He pressed his face into his palms, taking another couple of deep breaths as he choked on his laughter. It could be worse. It could be so much worse. Larry was alive. It could be so much worse.

Hands shaking, he wiped at his face, then got up and made a beeline toward the front desk. “Do you have something I can write on?” he asked. The librarian, staring at what probably looked like a dirty, tear-stained vagrant, nodded, tearing him a sheet from a memo pad beside her. “Thanks.” He grabbed a pen, and made his way back toward the computer.

He started going through a list. Every case he ever defended. Every trial he participated in. Powers v. State. Skye v. State. Byrde v. State. Johns v. State. Even ones he wasn’t directly involved in. Kitaki v. State. Fawles v. State.

By the end, only four defendants of his appeared to have escaped a murder charge. Larry, in prison two years too early. Ron DeLite, successfully charged as one (1) Mask*DeMasque. Matt Engarde, currently starring in a remake of an old SciFi movie. And Iris, whose trial it seems had never happened, and who seemed to be completely absent from any searches.

By his count, he had defended and saved at least fifteen innocent people. Only three innocents were still alive.

He felt sick to his stomach. He’d reached the end of the people he’d saved. Now, there were only a few more people left to search for.

First, he quickly looked up Ema Skye. But for some reason, save for a mention or two in the numerous articles on Lana, there was nothing on her. She wasn’t a detective, or a scientist. She didn’t even have a Facebook. He looked for a few more minutes, but nothing seemed to be popping up. Odd. But no obituary, so that was promising.

Hesitantly, began searching for Athena Cykes next. At the least, he knew she was alive. She’d had a voicemail, after all, if not an odd one. It took a bit of searching, but he found her in a list of student crisis counselors for a local college. She’d dropped out of law school, and was attending the school for psychology.

Her mother was still dead, of course. No mention of the Phantom, but it seemed that Blackquill’s execution had gone as scheduled. As far as anyone knew, Metis Cykes’ death had been repaid.

“This is so messed up,” he muttered softly, as he typed in Apollo’s name.

Rookie Attorney Wins Not Guilty Verdict!

He let a small smile spread across his face. Of course Apollo would be fine without him. Apollo was a good attorney. He expected nothing less. He clicked open the article.

And then his stomach dropped into his shoes.

“………oh no.”

At the top of the article was a photograph. Front and center, standing as tall as he could and attempting to look confident, was Apollo Justice. Beside him was Spark Brushel, the apparent defendant. And standing just behind the two of them, hand on Apollo’s shoulder and glasses gleaming, was Kristoph Gavin.

“Oh shit.” 

///

There was a time when Phoenix had looked into homeless shelters. It was mostly as a precaution, he’d found the poker gig well before it became necessary. But it was always good to have a backup plan, he’d learned. So he looked for shelters. Family shelters that would allow him to keep his daughter.

(Sometimes, on those first nights with Trucy, he’d wondered if that was selfish, to offer her a home with no guarantee of a house. He’d tried not to dwell on that.)

There were a few shelters that he’d felt comfortable with in his initial exploration. None of them were nice, exactly, but they offered a roof. That was all he needed. That was a rough period. No job. No money. Edgeworth of course was always trying to help, but things had been tense early into the disbarment. He’d been overseas. Kristoph had been 'helping out', and Phoenix couldn't figure out why he and Edgeworth were fighting so much.

God. He wished he had an Edgeworth to be fighting with right now.

As it were, Phoenix made it to a shelter before they closed their doors for the night. “We’ve almost stopped serving dinner for the evening, sir,” an older woman told him as he entered. “You should hurry if you want anything.”

“Thanks,” he said, giving her a weak smile.

It was a starch-heavy meal, which Phoenix was grateful for. Bread. Potatoes. He scarfed it down fast enough to not taste anything, and made his way to a spot to sleep. I can’t remember the last time I was so grateful to see a cot, he thought, letting his legs give out. Belly full, and body horizontal, he let his mind start to wander again.

Kristoph Gavin was practicing law. In all his ruminations since arriving, that thought hadn’t entered his mind. He was so busy worrying about everyone who was gone, everyone who was in jail, that he hadn’t even thought about who was still here. But he’d saved a lot of people, and he’d sent a lot more to prison. And without Phoenix there…

Well. Not all of them were free. Frank Sahwit, without Larry to blame for his murder, was caught fairly quickly. Richard Wellington, as well, had been eventually caught up in the art smuggling ring, though never in murder. And Mia had still gone toe to toe with Dahlia Hawthorne and won. Even without Phoenix there to make a fool of himself, Mia was more than smart enough to outsmart the devil herself.

Interestingly enough, the murder of Turner Grey itself had gone much differently, without Maya around to be framed. Morgan Fey, with no incentive to participate, had never offered Mimi Miney aid. In desperation, Ms. Miney had killed Dr. Grey before he even reached Kurain village, and with his final breaths, Grey shot Ms. Miney in the back, paralyzing her.

So that was four. Four out of the twenty-some people he’d sent to jail.

And he’d checked on some of those bigger names, after seeing Kristoph’s photo. Manfred von Karma, after refusing multiple times to retire, was still practicing law at seventy-five. Due to his slowly failing health, Franziska had relocated to nearby, and the two of them were some of the most feared prosecutors in the area.

Damon Gant retired only a few years ago, still as beloved and respected as ever. He seemed to have gotten a nice house on the beach, where he swam in several races every year.

Matt Engarde, as he’d noticed earlier, was still a multi-million-dollar name, along with his favorite producer, Dee Vasquez. The two had moved on to action movies, and were household names.

Luke Atmey was still listed as a highly sought after Private Detective. Once he’d put away Mask*DeMasque, he quickly rose to stardom. There’d been talks about him staring in his own documentary.

The Gavinners were still touring, after releasing their latest hit album ‘For The Love Of Truth’. There seemed to be some legal trouble about who owned the rights to “The Guitar’s Serenade” in the months after Machi Tobaye’s trial, but Gavin himself had settled, leaving Lamiroir to return to Borginia in peace with her royalties.

And Kurain Village, under the leadership of the youngest Master and her aging mother, appeared to be struggling financially, barely more than a blip on anyone’s radar.

A sigh. “This whole thing is fucked,” he muttered, cracking his neck, and tucking his hands into his pockets. Then, feeling a familiar stone against his thumb, another thought occurred to him. I should check my inventory, he thought, almost smiling as he removed Maya’s Magatama from his pocket. It was slightly warm to the touch, smooth, and as always, incredibly comforting to hold. It was still charged, thank god, and glowed a faint, gentle green.

Other than the Magatama, he found his phone, wallet, badge, and apartment keys. So far, the phone worked, and the keys did not. The badge was certainly helpful, though he wasn’t sure how far it would get him if someone looked him up. He wondered if maybe the credit card would work somehow? After all, his phone still did, even though he didn’t have a phone plan if he didn’t exist.

The camera on his hat was still there, too, though he couldn’t remember the last time he’d needed to use it. Why he was even wearing the hat was still beyond him, but it was nice to have something warmer than his work clothes on hand. The weather was sure to change soon, after all.

Other than those things, all Phoenix had was the clothes on his back, a few dollars, and the list of names he’d made in the library. He still had a State ID in his wallet, and his badge, but without an identity to back those up, what good would that do?

Ignoring that thought, his eyes wandered back to his list, dangling loosely in his hand. He’d divided them into categories. Deceased, imprisoned, free. Stars next to allies, x’s next to not. There were a lot more x’s than stars.

One “?” for Trucy. He wasn’t sure where to even start with finding Trucy.

He read the names over again, feeling another sharp pang in his chest. So many names. So many people. And none of them even knew who he was. Even the living were out of reach. He blinked back tears, gritting his teeth. Now was not the time to mourn. Now was the time for action.

He turned the sheet over in his hands a few times, before pulling out the stolen library pen. Phoenix Wright’s To-Do List, he wrote at the top. He started writing.

• Find Trucy. Make sure she’s safe
• Test out credit card
• Find a real place to stay
• Find at least one friend
• Figure out what I’d been doing before I got here

He paused, pen resting on the paper, but nothing else was coming to him. He had no friends, no job. He just. Existed. What exactly was his plan here?

His knuckles whitened around the pen. Then he wrote one more.

• Go home and apologize

With that, he tucked both paper and pen into his jacket pocket, and shut his eyes.

Chapter Text

“Uh, sorry sir, your card doesn’t seem to be working.” The young man behind the cash register handed him his card. “Do you have any other form of payment?”

Damn. Damn, damn, damn. “Not with me, no,” he said, tucking the card back into his wallet. “Sorry ‘bout that. I’ll try coming back later.”

“Sure. Have a nice day.” The kid gave him a sympathetic half-smile, and turned to the next customer.

No money then. He made his way out of the convenience store and into the street. It was early. But he hadn’t slept well, and so he’d hit the street at first light. He had things to do after all.

He crossed off Test out credit card, scribbled in Find a job?, and tucked the sheet away. That part shouldn’t be too hard. The piano/poker thing would probably be available. Not a great job, but hopefully the temporary funds would be enough.

He’d slept fitfully. When he closed his eyes, nonsensical images had filtered through his mind. Kristoph’s hand on Apollo’s shoulder and Maya Fey sobbing over Mia’s cold body. Larry Butz in Edgeworth’s car. Weirdest by far were the images of Edgeworth, stern and anxious, trying to grab his hand, as if Phoenix were the one he was losing his grip on. Why did that image stir something in his mind?

But now was not the time to think about Edgeworth. After all, Edgeworth wasn’t going to offer him money. At least not in this reality.

He glanced around as he started down the street, trying to decide the fastest way to the Borsched Bowl Club. He wondered idly if it would be as cold as he remembered. They really stuck with that theme last time he was there, before…

…before…

Was the Borsched Bowl even open? Was Shadi Enigmar murdered there? He considered it for a moment. But no, the only reason Shadi went to the club was because Phoenix was there. So then it would be open. Right?

Did Kristoph kill Shadi Enigmar without Phoenix Wright to draw him from hiding?

That froze him in his tracks. Shoot, he really had no idea. Was Kristoph a murderer in this world? Somehow, the idea that without Phoenix around, Kristoph hadn't killed anyone filled him with dread. Though, no, he had looked up the Mishams. Vera had been arrested for her father’s death, and had been poisoned shortly thereafter. She was eventually moved from the hospital to prison. So, unless someone else had killed Drew Misham, Kristoph was still a murderer, with or without Phoenix.

Why the hell was that comforting?

He walked for a while, thoughts dwelling on Kristoph and the Mishams and Shadi Enigmar. It was hard to keep track of what things he caused just by existing. After all, Morgan wasn’t a murderer in this world, while Kristoph was. Larry was in jail for larceny, and Iris never conspired with Godot to wait wait wait wait.

Wait.

Scrambling, he pulled out his phone, and typed in Godot.

Why hadn’t he done that earlier? After seeing that nothing had happened at the temple, he’d forgotten to even look into the rest of that case. He already knew where Dahlia, Iris, and the Fey family was. Why hadn’t he remembered Godot?

He ignored the play (holy cow he hated that play), and scrolled down. And then he burst out laughing.

Godot Coffee House: 1.8/5 Stars

Reviews:

“I’ve never been so terrified in my life. I think this guy just set up shop in a back-alley warehouse. No atmosphere, terrible service, pretty sure I was almost stabbed.”

“I think there’s only one employee. Nothing he says makes sense. I saw him go into the back room and there was a mattress. I think he lives there?”

“Incredibly good coffee. If you can get over the fact that the only furniture in the store is a lawn chair and a barrel, I’d recommend trying it.”

“I asked if they had Frappuccinos and the man behind the counter told me to leave.”

“Holy shit, that’s amazing,” he said, grinning ear to ear as he scrolled through the rest. Man, he hadn’t thought about Godot in years. He wasn’t even sure he wanted to look further into this. But yeah, wow, it seemed without Phoenix, Diego Armando was alive and well. Quite literally the only person who’s situation was marginally better. Maybe.

Quickly he jotted down: Visit Godot’s Coffee. Seeing Godot again might need some mental preparation, but it seemed worth checking out.

He made his way to the Borsched Bowl Club, much in the same state as he’d last left it: run down, but functional. The snow décor and the unreasonable air conditioning almost made him feel right at home.

“Hello, sir! How can I be serving you!”

Phoenix glanced up at the familiar voice. Olga Orly, tray of borsched clutched in her hands, smiled sweetly at him. Phoenix smiled back. “Hello there,” he said. It was a little early for most things they did here, but he figured he might as well try. No harm in getting a few extra bucks. “I heard you guys have a…lively poker scene.”

///

Phoenix Wright’s To-Do List

• Find Trucy. Make sure she’s safe
• Find a job
• Find a real place to stay
• Find at least one friend
• Figure out what I’d been doing before I got here
• Go home and apologize
• Visit Godot’s Coffee (?)

///

He played a few rounds of poker at the club. Fortunately, he wasn’t a poker champion for nothing. He easily made a few hundred bucks by hustling a few unsuspecting victims, even if the place was practically empty. It seemed, though, that they already had a fairly regular poker player around. One who was a tad better at Phoenix on the piano. One who wasn’t afraid to play a little dirty, or so Phoenix could tell. So it seemed the Borsched Bowl Club wasn’t going to be long term this time. Pity.

At least he had enough for a cheap motel for a few nights. Maybe a run at the laundromat. The world was his oyster.

He started googling around for cheap motels. That could at least temporarily keep him off the streets. And once he made a selection, he moved onto his next to-do.

Local PIs.

“I’m going to find you, Trucy,” he muttered to himself. Not that he knew what he’d do once he found her, but knowing where she was would at least give him some peace of mind.

Or it would, if any of these were in his price range.

“Two hundred an hour?!” Furiously, he clicked to the next one. “A hundred thirty?! How is anyone supposed to afford this?” He scowled as he edited his search. Cheapest Local PIs.

“There we go,” he said, as he glanced over some two-digit numbers. Forty an hour, sixty-nine an hour (nice). Not really in his price range, but worth considering. He glanced over the names of the companies. There was LA PIs, FRE Investigators, Gumshoe Investigations, Southwest Investigation, wait.

Wait.

Backing up.

What was the last one?

He scrolled back up. “Gumshoe Investigations,” he read out loud. Then, “No. No, that’s gotta be a coincidence. Right?”

He clicked on the ad, and was almost blinded by some bright green comic sans.

“Looking for the cheapest PI in the area? Gumshoe Investigations is the place for you! Cheating spouse? Missing person? Just need someone to talk to? We’re cheap, fast, and happy to help!”

And right beneath that was the lowest-res photograph of Dick Gumshoe he'd ever seen.

///

If Phoenix didn’t know any better, he’d say he was being tricked.

The address listed on the site didn’t seem to lead to a place of business. In fact, it led to an old, run-down apartment in a crummier side of town. Unpainted walls, carpet that pealed from the floors. One of those weird, gated elevators that didn’t seem to fully close. He suspected he saw at least twenty health code violations as he made his way up the stairs.

The apartment door itself was nondescript, though a small plastic plaque was mounted on the door. Room 328, Gumshoe Investigations. He knocked once, and waited. He could hear coughing from a door behind him, but nothing more. Odd. Another knock. And another? And another—

The door swung open. “Listen, pal, I’m not interested in buying anything.”

Phoenix blinked, hand still raised to knock again. “Huh?” he said simply, staring up at an incredibly familiar and imposing form.

Gumshoe, of course, was always a unique figure. He was just as large and looming as he’d always been. However, there was a strange gauntness to him that felt alien to Phoenix. Sure, the Gumshoe he knew now was certainly older than the one he’d met all those years ago in Mia’s office. Sharper cheekbones, harder eyes, grayer hair. But this Gumshoe looked more like a washed-out photograph of Gumshoe. He was paler. Tired-er. His olive-green coat was rattier than Phoenix remembered. His beard, on the other hand, was thicker, scraggly, taking up far more of his face.

Gumshoe frowned down at him, scanning him over with bagged eyes. “Listen, pal, when a guy in a suit knocks on your door, they're either trying to sell you vacuums or religion. And I’m not interested in either.”

“Wh…Isn’t this Gumshoe’s Investigations? Isn’t this the address on your website?”

Gumshoe’s shoulders slumped a bit, face going blank. “Huh? Whadaya mean?”

Phoenix sighed. Okay, yeah, that was definitely the Gumshoe he knew. “Your website. The one listing you as a PI.” He held up the website on his phone, waving it in front of Gumshoe’s face. Gumshoe grabbed it.

“You’re here for a job?” he asked, looking over the site as if it were his first time seeing it.

“Yes!”

Gumshoe looked up at him. Then, his face broke out into a grin. “Well! Why didn’t you say so earlier! Come on in, pal!” And suddenly, Gumshoe’s hand was on Phoenix’s back, and Phoenix was being swept through the doorway with a stifled yelp.

The room, at least, was in better shape than the rest of the building. Hardwood floors, a few intact couches and chairs. There were some shoes near the entryway, as well as a fraying leash hanging from a hook. There was a weird curtain labeled Employees Only over a doorway to the left. Two other unmarked doors lined the back wall. A desk covered in papers, a full coffee table, and not much else to decorate the rather sparse room.

Gumshoe practically threw Phoenix onto the nearest couch. “Here you go, pal, make yourself comfortable. Lemme go get my stuff. Hey Kay!”

There was no answer. Gumshoe paused, looking confused, then clonked his head with his hand. “Oh, right, she’s busy today.” He looked at Phoenix, gathering up a few more things as he plopped into an old rust-red easy chair. “Just me then. So what kind of a case you need help with, pal? Lost dog? Cheating wife? Cheating wife lost your dog?”

“What?” Gumshoe had already grabbed the pencil from behind his ear, writing on a notepad he’d pulled from somewhere. “No, nothing like that. No dog or wife. Uh. I’m just looking for someone.”

“Mmhmm. We do a lot of missing persons. Missing wife? Girlfriend? Wait…” Gumshoe’s head snapped up suddenly, eyes locking on Phoenix’s. “I know this kind of game.”

“What?”

“Alright, pal.” And he jabbed his eraser at him. “Has this person ever filed a restraining order against you?”

Phoenix blanched. “What?! No!”

“Oh.” His shoulders slumped again, looking genuinely surprised. “You sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” he snapped. “No restraining orders. Nothing illegal.”

“Well, in hunting this person down, would they file a restraining order against you?”

“No!” Or. “Well. Probably not…”

Gumshoe scowled at him, suspicion written over his face. “…Alright, tell me about this person you want to find,” he said. “And no lying, pal. I’ve got good instincts when it comes to that kind of thing.”

Phoenix rolled his eyes a bit. Of course you do, detective. “I’m looking for a girl named Trucy Enigmar. Or at least, her name was Trucy Enigmar nine years ago.”

Gumshoe jotted that down offhandedly, hardly sparing the notepad a glance. “Sure. Who is she to you? Why're you looking for her?”

Why indeed. She’s not exactly my daughter anymore. “She’s…the daughter of a friend.”

That raised an eyebrow. “Friend’s daughter huh? She a runaway?”

“No, not exactly…”

He scratched at his beard. “How old?”

Phoenix thought for a second. “…almost seventeen now.”

And the eyebrow shot back down, frown returning. “Alright, pal, I think I've seen this game before," he said slowly. Phoenix could not remember ever hearing the word “Pal” spoken with such venom. "Why the hell is a grown-ass man looking for a seventeen-year-old girl?”

He almost gagged. "It's nothing like that!"

"Listen, I don't trust men comin' in here looking for underage girls without a damn good reason," Gumshoe said firmly. "Why are you looking for this Trucy girl?"

He bit his lip, trying to square away a reasonable reply. Because Trucy wasn’t his daughter. And he could certainly understand Gumshoe's concern. By all means, Phoenix shouldn’t care so much about her. But he did. So what sounded believable?

“So, her dad…ran off,” he said slowly. Not the whole truth, but it wasn’t a lie, exactly. He could run with it. “A while ago. Disappeared. No other family. I think she may be in foster care? But I haven’t been able to find out on my own.” As he talked, he could see Gumshoe’s stern glare beginning to soften. Was that good? Was he buying it? “She’s probably almost aged out, so I don’t know if I could do anything for her at this point. But…I didn’t know what had happened until just recently. I lost track of them a few years before this happened. And I have no idea where she is, or if she’s safe, or healthy, or happy. I don’t think I’d be able to do anything for her at this point. I don't even know if I'd want to talk to her. I just..." He paused, sighing. "I want to know she’s safe. Y’know? That she's being taken care of.”

Gumshoe’s scowl had all but disappeared. His eyes, actually, had misted over a bit. He tried to surreptitiously sniffle, awkwardly rubbing at his nose. “That’s…that’s a real sad story, pal.”

You don’t know the half of it. “Again, I don’t even know if I want to contact her or anything,” he said. “But I…I practically raised this girl. When she was younger, I mean. I just want to know where she is, and if she's okay. I don’t think it’d be much of your time.” And then under his breath, “I hope not. I don’t have that kind of money…”

Gumshoe looked him over again. There was still a suspicion to his eyes, but his face was softer. Finally, he said, “Alright, I don’t know if I’m gonna help you yet. But me and my partner going to look into this. If you’re on the up and up, then maybe we can figure something out.”

Phoenix let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “Thank you, Detective.”

“Sure thing. Now, uh. What did you say your name was?”

“I—” Gumshoe had already pulled out a pencil. Should Phoenix lie? No, that’d probably just cause more problems down the road. “It’s Wright. Phoenix Wright.”

“Alright, Mr. Wright. I’ll start looking for the girl. And I’ll talk this over with my partner. If we think this is worth doing, we’ll call you.”

“Right,” Phoenix said. “Thanks.”

“Sure thing, pal,” he said cheerfully. “We just want to be careful. We’ve had some crazy people in here before.” He stood up, cracking his back. “Crazy ex-boyfriends trying to find a girl, crazy current boyfriends trying to stalk their girl.” A pause. “Lots of crazy boyfriends in general, actually.”

“I can imagine.” He wrote his number down on Gumshoe’s notepad.

“Don’t get me wrong, though, plenty of horrible women coming in here too. Horrible all genders.” A sigh, as Gumshoe rubbed at his beard. “Yeah, PI-ing is a lot different than being a police detective, that’s for sure.”

Phoenix paused, halfway through the last digit. Now, Phoenix wasn’t exactly as talented as his protégés in many regards. He couldn’t see lies the way Apollo could, and he couldn’t hear emotions like Athena. But he knew enough about reading tics and vocals of people he knew to get a picture. And he could hear Gumshoe, clear as day. Wistful and bitter. And tired. He spared himself a glance, and Gumshoe’s eyes had lost focus on him. They were fixed on the far wall. Sad. Angry, even.

Phoenix watched him carefully as he finished up his phone number. “Do you like being a PI, Detective?”

Gumshoe startled, looking back down at Phoenix. “Huh? Oh. Well…” He frowned, milling over the question. “Hmm. It’s…less rewarding in some ways, y’know? Lots’a people come in here unhappy, but lots leave that way too. You don’t have the satisfaction of protecting people, just answering their questions.” A bitter, very un-Gumshoe smile spread across his face. “And most people don’t like getting the answers they get back.”

There was something unsettling about seeing something so familiar, and so not. It was like seeing a portrait of yourself, but in every piece, there was just one detail that didn’t work. Dick Gumshoe, as a man, was a gentle soul. Awkward, bumbling, but ultimately optimistic and kind.

And every fiber of Phoenix’s being was telling him that this was not his Gumshoe.

“So why’d you leave the force?” he asked finally.

“Hmm?” Gumshoe blinked, smile disappearing.

“You don’t really like being a PI. Why are you here then?”

Gumshoe barked a laugh, hand coming down hard on Phoenix’s shoulder. “Well, it wasn’t exactly my first choice,” he said. “I’m not a smart man. I don’t have many other skills.”

“So why aren’t you still a police detective?”

Another smile. It didn’t reach his eyes. “A few too many disappointments,” he said firmly. And he walked Phoenix to the door.

Chapter Text

Gumshoe didn’t call the next day. And that was fine. Phoenix didn’t need a response right away. He had a motel room, and a few hundred bucks would last him at least a week.

He didn’t call the day after that. And that was still fine. Phoenix had time to find a laundromat, as well as buy a backpack and a cheap change of clothes so he could wash his suit. Edgeworth would probably kill him if he knew he washed his suit at a laundromat. But he doubted Edgeworth would ever really know about this particular scenario.

Day three, he was starting to get antsy. Had Gumshoe decided Trucy wasn’t worth his time? Did he think Phoenix was some sort of creep? Was he too busy? Was Trucy just gone?

Day four. Phoenix paced around his room, feeling jittery. It was only midday, but it felt like an eternity. His money was halfway gone just from renting the room out. He’d need to stop by the Borscht Bowl again if he had any hopes of paying Gumshoe and keeping a roof over his head.

He continued to make laps around the room. What should he do? He’d been thinking on it for days, jotting down his thoughts here and there. Half-baked plans for where to go and what to do. There was so much that he needed to do. But there was so much he didn’t know where to start. Really, at the moment, all he wanted to do was take a nap until something happened. But his racing heart wouldn’t let him.

He sat on the bed for a second. “What do I do now?” he muttered, shutting his eyes. “What am I supposed to do now?”

“What do you mean by that, Nick?”

He glanced up as Maya swatted his shoulder, a familiar pout on her lips. “Really. Sometimes I think I’m the only reason you get anything done. Does Wright and Co. even function when I’m gone?”

“But there’s nothing to do,” he told her irritably. “We don’t have any cases. We don’t have any clients.”

“So? That doesn’t mean there’s nothing to do.”

“I think Mystic Maya is right,” came a cheery voice, as Pearl emerged from the next room, carrying Phoenix’s wastepaper basket in her little arms. “Just because no one has asked you to do something doesn’t mean there isn’t anything to do.” She set down the basket in front of him, smiling happily. “My mother always told me that idle time was a time to get the small things done.”

“Yeah, Nick, like cleaning off your desk!” Maya clapped her hands. When he groaned, she grabbed his arm. “Come on. Pearly’s right. You always sulk when you don’t know what to do. Let’s find something small to do until something big comes along!” And she tugged him to his feet.

His eyes opened slowly. He was back in his empty motel room. There was a crack on the wall, and a stain on the carpet. Maya, Pearl, and the Wright and Co. Law Offices were nowhere to be found.

He was alone.

He shut his eyes again. Of course he knew what Maya would want. “You’d be disappointed in me, wouldn’t you,” he said softly. And he knew in his heart it would be true.

Finally, he stood up. “Well,” he said to himself. “No sense in doing nothing.” And he started getting his shoes on. He did have things to do after all.

///

Phoenix Wright’s To-Do List

• Find Trucy. Make sure she’s safe
• Go home and apologize
• Find a job (Potential helpful skills: Lawyer, surviving car crashes, ???)
• Figure out what I’d been doing before I got here
• Go to Godot’s Coffee
• Check on Apollo and Athena (Purchase Therapy? Sue someone? Get arrested for murder?)
• Kurain Village (Train ticket $$?)

///

Some of the list was more important than others, of course. Like finding Trucy and his subordinates.

Some of them were more complicated than others. Such as finding Trucy. And his subordinates.

Some cost more money than he had right now, such as buying a train ticket to Kurain, or theoretically paying Athena for therapy.

One thing in particular involved possibly seeing a serial killer.

So Phoenix opted for the simplest option on the list.

This he started to regret as soon as he found the door. It was a sturdy metal door with a small industrial-looking window he couldn’t see through. The door handle was rusted. And somehow, nailed to the door, was a wooden sign.

Godot’s Coffee House. Best Coffee You’ll Find. Ever.

It looked to be burnt into the wood somehow. It also looked to be an old sign. Weathered, beaten, rotting.

The building itself was tucked halfway down a back alley. He couldn’t see any other windows. There was literally nothing about this building that looked like a sane person should enter.

Though, to be fair, not entirely out of character. Godot was always a bit…eccentric.

He opened the door, surprised to hear a faint jingling bell over the loud, horrid creak of the hinges. “Yikes,” he said, pausing in the doorway. Then he looked inside, and his eyes met a red, glowing visor.

There was a pause, as if both parties were just as surprised to see each other. And then Godot grinned. “Well hello there,” he said. “Welcome to Purgatory. You almost look like you came here on purpose.”

The white hair, the red goggles. The green shirt. The smug grin, almost like he were some sort of predator taking stock of his prey. His face was lined, and his stubble was graying. But Godot looked like a man frozen in time. Unchanged from the decade since Phoenix had last seen him.

“Uh.” Phoenix blinked a few times. It was almost like he was in his twenties again. “Yeah. I heard this place had the best coffee I’ll find,” he said. “Ever.”

Godot seemed almost taken aback, grin growing even wider. “Well, you’ve heard right,” he said, and then took a swig from a mug set on the counter. “Or maybe you read right. Either way, step on in.” And he laughed to himself.

Phoenix stepped through the open doorway, pushing the door shut behind him. Glancing around, he immediately understood what the complaints on aesthetics were about.

The room was too tall. Normally, that wouldn’t bother Phoenix, but this was incredibly tall. Unreasonably tall. Unfinished ceiling, he could see steel beams supporting the roof. The windows themselves were high up, opening out to dark brown bricks from the other side of the alley. Those reviews were right, it almost looked like Godot had just set up shop in an abandoned warehouse. There was smooth jazz playing from somewhere, though Phoenix could not quite pinpoint the source.

The furniture, it seemed, had expanded since that other reviewer had posted. There was the barrel, and two lawn chairs. There was also a three-legged stool, a folding table, and an easy chair that looked like the one Phoenix’s grandpa bought in 1963. The floor was solid concrete, save for some sort of rug near the cash register, and the newest things in the store appeared to be the collection of coffee machines lining the back wall behind the large wooden front counter.

There was also the fact that there was no one else here. It was oppressively empty. Even the spaces between the sparse furniture felt like an expanse of nothing.

Somehow, Phoenix really did feel like he was about to be assaulted.

Slowly, he made his way across the room. It felt like it took hours. Each step echoed loudly on the bare floors, until finally he was at the counter.

Godot straightened up, leering down at him. “So, then, what’ll you have,” he said.

“What, uh…” he glanced around. “I don’t know that much about coffee. Do you have a menu?”

“Ha!” Godot barked a laugh. “Sure. Give me a second.” He leaned down, rummaging around until he pulled up a napkin and a marker. Quickly, he scribbled down the word ‘Coffee’ and passed it to Phoenix. “There.”

“Wh—This isn’t what I—” He looked up, but Godot was grabbing things off the counter behind him. He turned, and started setting what appeared to be various packages of coffee onto the counter.

‘Godot Blend 43’

‘Godot Blend 61’

‘Godot Blend 29’

“Here,” he said. “I figured my original menu would probably give you about the same information.”

Phoenix looked down at the nondescript packages in front of him. Other than the labels, there was nothing differentiating them. “…fair.”

Another laugh, and Godot leaned forward again. “So, what exactly are you looking for? And before you ask, we don’t do Frappuccinos.” As Phoenix puzzled over the options, Godot smirked a bit. “You know what. I’d be willing to do an Irish Coffee for a few extra bucks. You look like the sort that’d need the sweet taste of oblivion.”

Phoenix glanced up at him, surprised at the statement. A few questions passed through his mind, but all that came out was, “…do you have a liquor license?”

“Ha. Thought you were a lawyer,” Godot said. When Phoenix looked confused, he motioned toward the small badge on Phoenix’s lapel. “I may be legally blind, but I’m good at picking out the things that matter.”

Thoroughly uncomfortable, Phoenix adjusted his badge and muttered, “How about just make me something you’d drink?”

Godot’s mouth twitched up at the corner. “I don’t think you’d want that.”

“Why’s that?”

He seemed to size Phoenix up for a moment, before grabbing one of the packages and turning. “They always say walk a mile in a man’s shoes to understand them,” he said, pulling out a scoop. “But that just sounds like a one-way ticket to destroying your own soles.”

Phoenix blinked. “Wh…Huh?”

He laughed again. “How’s this. You don’t seem like a coffee guy. If you drank my personal brew, I think your heart would just give out from caffeine overdose.” He jerked his head toward the single table. “Take a seat. I’ll let you know when it’s ready.”

Phoenix watched Godot for another moment, before slowly edging backward toward a chair and sitting down.

He really hadn’t thought about Godot in years. After the Hazakura incident, he’d pled guilty to Second Degree Murder, and Phoenix hadn’t heard much from him since. Really, considering the circumstances (and the defense lawyers involved) he very easily could have lessened his sentence. But Godot seemed content with his punishment.

This Godot though… Well, he was very much the Godot that Phoenix remembered, but there was something off about the whole thing that set him on edge. Something just slightly different. Just like with Gumshoe, though Gumshoe’s changes seemed more worrisome. Actually, now that he thought about it, Godot was much more chipper than Gumshoe was. Almost manic in a way.

“Order up!” Godot slid the coffee over the counter. “It’s a newer blend. Feel free to give your opinion.”

Phoenix stood back up and grabbed it, taking a sip as he fished out his wallet. He winced, and Godot laughed. “What do you think? I found it a bit mellow for my taste.” He sipped at his own cup, then raised it toward Phoenix almost in salute. “Coffee isn’t coffee unless its blackness can match your own soul.”

Oh, wait. Now Phoenix knew what was throwing him off about this.

Was Godot…being nice to him?

“It’s not bad, I just. Uh. I’m not used to black coffee,” Phoenix told him, taking another polite sip as he paid.

“Most people aren’t,” Godot replied. “They’d rather mask the taste. But I think people would do better to face the bitterness head on.” Another gulp. “Also I don’t believe in decaf. Hope that’s not a problem.”

Godot didn’t hate him here. That was the difference. Phoenix wasn’t ‘responsible’ for Mia. Phoenix wasn’t the rookie he despised for months. Phoenix was just a stranger, passing by. Phoenix meant nothing to him. Phoenix had nothing to prove here.

For the first time since he’d arrived, not being recognized was almost comforting.

Phoenix took another sip, mind reeling from that realization. But before he could even begin to come to terms with that fact, his phone started to ring.

He actually jumped, spilling some coffee onto the counter as he grabbed his phone. “Sorry, sorry, one sec.” He answered quickly. “Hello?”

“Mr. Wright? This is Dick Gumshoe.”

Chapter Text

“She goes by Trucy Johnson now,” Kay Faraday said, sliding a small file over the coffee table toward Phoenix. Gumshoe strode past behind her, looking curiously over at the file as if it was his first time hearing this too. “She lives with John and Jane Johnson. They’re her foster parents. It’s not an official adoption though.”

“Alright.” Phoenix opened the file, scanning it over. There was a picture of Trucy at eight, smiling, missing a front tooth. There were a few printed-out article clips about a school on the other side of town. There was a blurry picture of a girl with short hair and a backpack.

“Sorry for the quality,” she said, pouting at the photograph. “She’s a minor, anyway, so I didn’t want to get invasive. That was the best I could do.”

“We got her address from her school directory,” Gumshoe chimed in, moving some cardboard boxes into the room on the left. Phoenix thought for a second he spied a bed before Gumshoe shut the door. “But Kay isn’t sold on handing that much information out, pal.”

“Well that’s good,” Phoenix said. “The idea that it’s so easy to find people is a bit terrifying to me.”

Kay inspected him silently, pout disguising a much more serious look in her eyes. Phoenix inspected back. He knew of Kay Faraday, of course. In the real world. In his world. But he never really got to know her. She looked similar to how he recalled from the few times he’d seen her. Green eyes, strange ponytail. About Ema’s age.

Past that, he overall knew very little. He knew she was a friend of Edgeworth’s. He knew she was someone Edgeworth trusted. But he wondered, without Edgeworth, was she the same girl? Was she still kind? Was she still trustworthy?

“The point is,” Kay said, drawing him from his thoughts, “the girl is healthy. She’s not some academic superstar, and she doesn’t really do any extracurriculars, but she seems to fit in just fine. No disciplinary problems, no red flags. Oh!" A snap. "And no complaints filed against the Johnsons, either. Doesn’t necessarily put them in the clear, but it’s a good sign.”

“That’s a relief,” Phoenix said, giving Kay a weak smile. Kay just raised an eyebrow, face remaining serious. Idly, Phoenix wondered if that was normal for her.

“So I don’t know what you want out of this,” she said after a moment, crossing her arms. “Gumshoe says you’re looking for a daughter of a friend.”

“Yeah.”

“But what about after? What about once you find her?”

Phoenix opened his mouth to reply, because of course he would…what? What would he do if he found her? That was the question, wasn’t it? Trucy didn’t know him. Neither did Gumshoe. Neither did Godot. Neither did Apollo or Athena or Ema or Pearl or even Franziska.

He kept looking for people. And when he found them…what next? He was a stranger. He didn’t matter to them. He’d appear for a moment, and then just as quickly he’d be a memory, if even that.

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I really need to start working on a long-term plan, huh?”

Kay crooked a smile at that one. Gumshoe laughed. “Nah, don’t worry too hard, pal. I never make long-term plans,” he said. “Most of my decisions are made then and there.”

“Eh, planning ahead is overrated,” Kay said with a grin at Gumshoe.

“I think I just…want to talk to her,” Phoenix said, hand falling back to his side. “I don’t think she knows who I am at this point. She wouldn’t remember me. But…I don’t know, I just want her to know that she has a friend left. If that makes sense. She’s just…she’s just lost so much…her mother, her father…her old life…”

An odd look passed over Kay’s face. She and Gumshoe exchanged a quick look. After a moment, they both sighed. “…Alright, Mr. Wright, I’ll give you the school address,” Kay said.

“R-Really?”

Kay shrugged. “You’re paying us for that much, aren’t you?”

“And we know the girl now, so if she goes missing, we’ll probably notice.”

“A-Ah. Right.” He gave a nervous smile as Gumshoe gave him another suspicious glance. He pulled out his wallet, and scraped out his money. Man, he was low on cash. He really needed a plan, didn’t he? He handed the money to Kay, who grinned at him and started counting as she handed him a folded piece of paper.

“Thaaaank you~!”

“Yeah, no problem.” He slipped it into his pocket, next to his list.

“And listen, pal, if you need anything else, don’t hesitate to ask!” Gumshoe added, looking placated with the money. “As long as it’s legal.”

“Of course, Detective.”

“And if it’s not so legal, feel free to call my number instead of his,” Kay whispered in a sing-song voice. Before Phoenix could even register what she’d said, she hopped up from the easy chair. “Now if you boys will excuse me, I’m going to put this in the back. Have a nice one, Mr. Wright!”

“Sure.” He said. She gave him a weirdly cheery ‘I’m watching you’ sign before slipping into the other room (that one definitely looked like a girl’s bedroom, was this really just their apartment?). Then he stood himself, sighing. “I can see myself out, Detective Gumshoe.”

“Sure thing, pal.”

Phoenix turned toward the door. And then he stopped.

Dick Gumshoe was a stranger, just as much as anyone else here. He didn’t know anything about the past decade of Gumshoe’s life. He didn’t know how those years had changed him. But Phoenix still knew Gumshoe.

No one in this world knew or cared who he was. And yet…Phoenix knew everything about them. What they cared about. What made them tick.

And Phoenix had a weird feeling that if he walked out of Gumshoe’s life right this second, he wouldn’t be coming back.

He stood there for a moment, considering that thought. Then he glanced over. “Detective? Can I ask you a…personal question?”

“Huh? Well…” Gumshoe considered that for a moment, before shrugging. “Sure, why not?”

“I…I’ve been looking for a lot of people and…” he began, and then, scowled. “No. Well. The point is…did you know a man named Miles Edgeworth?”

Gumshoe’s shoulders tensed. For a moment, he just stared at Phoenix, face unreadable. “…I knew him,” he said slowly.

“Do you…believe he’s a murderer?”

Something about Gumshoe’s stance right then reminded him of a coiled snake. Or no, something more reactionary. A cornered rat. “No,” he said. “I don’t.”

Phoenix gave a relieved smile. “Alright,” he said. “I just thought I’d ask.” And he walked out.

///

The address led to a Catholic school. St. Margaret something something, he couldn’t read the whole sign from this angle. A low building, compared to some of the ones surrounding it. It was a dull, washed-out brick, fenced in by rusted chain-link. As he passed, on the other side of the street, several kids in uniforms passed by. It was right around when classes let out, it seemed. No one paid him much mind as they made their way from the school.

He tried not to stare. A grown-ass man staring at a Catholic school was bound to get himself into trouble if he wasn’t careful. But the idea that his daughter was right there, and wouldn’t even know him, hurt in a way he didn’t believe possible.

A group of boys edged past him, chatting amongst themselves. He awkwardly leaned against the wall, letting them pass. It wasn’t too crowded, but there were still quite a few uniforms scattering in every direction. He watched for a moment. A group of giggling girls, maybe fourteen, were making their way in one direction. Several kids pulling off ties and backpacks as their parents pulled up. A few surly teens leaned against walls, smoking as a security guard rushed in their direction. He shut his eyes. Where would Trucy be in this throng?

He stood there for a while, as the heard thinned. Waiting. Listening. Hoping.

“…and did you see the look on Mrs. Greene’s face when she…”

“…didn’t even ask me to the dance, what the hell…”

What would he do if he found her? Could he just let her go? But he didn’t have a choice in that matter. Trucy had a life completely separate from his. He didn’t have a right to that.

“…text me when you’re done with the project…”

“Is the test tomorrow? I thought it wasn’t ‘til…”

He just wanted to see her. He wanted to see for himself if she was safe. If she was happy. If she…if she what? If she was fine without him? If he’d ever really saved her at all? If Trucy was better off for knowing him?

What’s the point of all this, Phoenix?

“…ounds good to me. See you tomorrow, Trucy!”

And that last voice rang out like a bell.

Phoenix’s eyes shot open, snapping toward that voice. He could see a redheaded girl waving. Another girl was disappearing down an adjacent road.

“Shit.” He started off toward the voice, trying not to shove the kids as he went. “Shit shit shit.” He reached the corner and turned, scanning the road and—there!

A lone girl was walking down the road. Brown, shoulder length hair. Same blue and white uniform as the rest of the school. She was faced away from him, head down as she walked. There was no bounce to her step. No swinging her bag. No skipping, no humming.

Still, though. Somehow, he just knew.

“Trucy!”

He shouted it on reflex, and the girl jumped. Shit. He held his breath for a moment, trying to think of something to do, until the girl turned.

She had shoulder-length hair, and fringe bangs that came down to her eyes. No cape, no jewelry, no hat. White button down and a dark blue skirt. Her uniform was a bit oversized, wrinkled and tucked awkwardly in places like it was threatening to swallow her. Everything about her looked smaller.

But despite that, Phoenix would recognize his daughter anywhere.

Trucy blinked at him, clearly startled and confused. Her dark blue eyes darted around for a moment, finally settling back on him. Phoenix glanced around too. They were on a side street, far less crowded but not deserted. That was good. He wondered what Trucy would do if she were alone with a strange man who knew her name. That thought just made him feel a bit queasy.

As it were, Trucy just stood there, hands gripping her backpack straps. “Can I help you, sir?” she asked, watching intently. It reminded her of their poker games, when she was trying to catch him bluffing.

She was looking for nervous ticks. Her power of perception wasn’t as powerful as Apollo’s were, but she was pretty perceptive regardless. And if she caught him lying, what would she do? Run? Scream?

Nervously, Phoenix shuffled toward her. “Yeah. Hi,” he said. “My name is Phoenix Wright. Are…are you Trucy Enigmar?”

For a split second, her eyes widened. Then she quickly forced her face back to neutral. No smile, no pout, just a stern, unreadable mask. “…why do you ask?” she said.

He would recognize his daughter anywhere. But still, this Trucy was almost unrecognizable.

“I’m Phoenix Wright,” he said again. “I was…a friend of your dad’s. Way back in the day. I…don’t suppose you’d remember me.”

Of course she didn’t. She wouldn’t remember him, because he never existed. But none of what he said was a lie, technically. He hoped that was enough to quell any nerves. Trucy looked him over again, brows furrowing ever so slightly. Finally, she said, “You don’t really look like my father’s kind of friend.” ('Father'?) She tilted her head. “Are you in stage crew? You’re not a magician.”

Phoenix felt his mouth twitch toward a smile. “Oh, no, I’m not—I’m a lawyer,” he told her.

A raised eyebrow. “A lawyer,” she repeated. “That doesn’t sound like his kind of friend either.”

“…ah…” Okay, conversation wasn’t going great. “W-Well, uh…I’m sorry to hear that…?” When she didn’t react, he continued. “It was a long time ago anyway, so. I can understand why you don’t know me. I barely recognized you myself.”

She just raised an eyebrow. “Okay. Did you need something, sir?”

Not Trucy, his gut told him insistently. Not Trucy not Trucy not Trucy. “Not really,” he said. “I was just…I heard your name, and I wanted to see if it was you. I haven’t seen you in a long time. How are you doing?”

“I’m…fine?” She responded, almost confused at the question. Now that Phoenix was closer, he could see she looked healthy. She wasn’t too thin, and he at least couldn’t see anything wrong with her. But her eyes, usually sparkling with life, were darker, colder. There were faint bags underneath.

She was Trucy. But she wasn’t his Trucy.

“That’s good,” he said. “I was hoping you were doing alright. You still doing magic?”

Immediately, her lips pressed into a line. The way she did when she weighed her words before she said them. The way she did when she wanted to say something but didn't. It didn't happen often. “I’m…a little old for magic, mister,” she said after a second.

“Wh…” It was like she’d punched him in the gut. “Too old for magic,” he repeated weakly.

Her knuckles tightened on her backpack straps. “I’m not eight anymore,” she said softly. Her eyes seemed focused on his tie rather than his face. “And daddy’s gone, anyway. So yeah, not really into the whole magic thing anymore.”

“But…but…” Too old for magic? Trucy?!

She glanced back up at him, and gave him a small smile. “I appreciate the concern, mister, but…”

“But nothing,” he snapped, maybe a little too harshly considering the way she jumped. “Magic isn’t just—You can’t just outgrow magic!”

She seemed shocked at the statement. “It’s really not that big of a deal,” she said. “I’m almost an adult. I have better things to do with my time. I mean, are you still caught up in all of your childhood fantasies?”

Phoenix stared down at Trucy. His Trucy. His daughter. Maybe this wasn’t the girl he met all those years ago in the courthouse, but he knew Trucy. And Trucy was a child of magic.

“You know, way back in the day, I didn’t believe in magic,” he said slowly. He paused, to see if she’d respond. She remained quiet, not meeting his gaze. But she seemed like she was listening. “But that was before I knew what it was.”

Her brows twitched in momentary confusion. After a second, she risked a quick glance up toward him. “What do you mean?”

He smiled a bit, continuing. “It’s not about card tricks, or doves flying from sleeves. It wasn’t all just illusions and misdirection. Do you want to know what magic was? Real magic?”

She shrugged. “Sure. What was it?”

“Magic was…Magic was the ability to make someone else smile,” he said. “To make someone believe.” Did that make sense? He paused, not really sure what he was saying. But Trucy remained in place, waiting. So he continued. “It was the ability to make someone see wonder. It was the ability to inspire awe and hope and beauty from nowhere. To make people believe in something amazing.”

Trucy’s eyes remained fixed on the ground. Her jaw had tightened a little bit. He was talking out of his ass now, but words just kept pouring out.

“When I was in my darkest place, I thought there wasn’t going to be a tomorrow. I thought, ‘How am I supposed to keep going when I’ve lost so much? What’s the point?’ I’d lost all sense of purpose. Life had lost all value. But someone I love taught me the value of just making people smile. Of making people see something wonderful. Of just…just caring about people. I was so focused on what I’d lost that I forgotten all the things that made me work so hard in the first place. There’s no greater gift than the ability to make someone smile. And that’s not something you grow out of.”

They stood in silence for a moment after. Trucy’s bangs covered much of her face, and her knuckles remained white. Phoenix sighed. “Sorry. I…maybe got carried away a bit there…”

“No, I…” Trucy’s voice cracked a moment, and before Phoenix could react she’d shook it off. “I…I understand what you mean.”

Phoenix gave her a small smile. Then he reached toward his wallet. “You know what, here. Let me give you my contact information,” he said. “If you ever need anything, you can just…” A thought crossed his mind. He grinned to himself, slipping a business card into his sleeve. “Say. Just what is that behind your ear—?”

“AH!” She yelped and jumped, swatting him as he reached for her.

He yelped as well, pulling back. “Ah, sorry, sorry. I didn’t—I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said, quickly reaching into his sleeve. “I was just making a joke. See, it’s just my—”

In his hand was an ace of diamonds.

He blinked. He blinked again. Then, slowly, he turned toward Trucy. Just as slowly, her look of fright turned into the tiniest of grins. And with a flick of her wrist, there was Phoenix’s business card.

“S…Sorry,” she said, having the audacity to look sheepish. “You, uh…telegraph your movement pretty clearly…”

They stared at each other a moment. And then, simultaneously, they burst into laughter.

It felt like a second and a lifetime all in one. Phoenix’s face felt like it would split in half, tears prickling his eyes. When was the last time he’d laughed? It already seemed like a million years ago.

Finally, the two of them regained their breath. Phoenix grinned, trying to surreptitiously wipe at his eyes. “Too old for magic, huh,” he said. “It looks like you still know what you’re doing.”

She smiled, almost looking like herself as she looked over his card. “Maybe I’m not…completely done with magic,” she admitted quietly. “Though uh maybe don’t tell my foster parents that. But I know it’s not something you forget. Even if…” A pause. She tucked the card into a skirt pocket, smile turning almost wistful. “Well, even if people think you should, I guess.”

He considered pressing that comment, but before he could, Trucy gave him another smile. “Thanks, Mr. Wright,” she said. “That…does mean a lot to me. That someone else gets it.”

‘Mr. Wright.’ It squeezed on his chest for a moment. But her smile lit up her face, and that was something. “Of course,” he said. “Just, uh if you ever get in trouble, don’t hesitate to call.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said, bouncing on her toes slightly. “I should get going, though. I don’t think the Johnson’s will appreciate me running too late.”

“Ah. Right, okay,” he said. “Bye then, Trucy.”

“It was nice to meet you! Bye, Mr. Wright!” She turned on her heels and started off down the street.

“…bye, Trucy.”

She disappeared around the corner.

Chapter Text

“You’re far too kind for your own good, you know that, Wright?” Edgeworth said.

It took Phoenix a moment to register the words, hand resting on the doorknob of Trucy’s bedroom. He’d just finished tucking her into bed, after what Phoenix was beginning to deem ‘Family Game Night’. She seemed to be adjusting well to Phoenix’s home. He had a feeling much of that was an act.

“What do you mean?” he asked softly, stepping back into the living room.

“Wright. Take a good look at yourself.” Edgeworth motioned toward the window. Phoenix glanced in.

His reflection blinked balefully back at him. His tired, disheveled reflection. Unshaven, exhausted. “Okay? And?”

“What do you see, Wright?”

Phoenix crinkled his nose. “I see…I dunno, Edgeworth.” Phoenix rubbed at his stubble. “An unemployed loser? A guy who failed at the one thing he’s good at?” A smirk. “A tired new dad?”

“Wright,” Edgeworth said. “Why did you take her in?”

Great. This again. “Would you rather I just let an eight-year-old find her own way in the world?” he asked. “She…she needed me. So I took her in.”

“That’s not the point!”

“Shh! You’re going to wake her.”

Edgeworth flinched, glancing toward the door before lowering his voice once again. “I worry about you, Wright. You can barely take care of yourself as it is. You care so much about other people that you’ll throw your own health to the wayside. You’ve done it for me, you’ve done it for Maya. You’ve done it for literally every client you’ve come across. How are you expected to care for anyone if you cannot care for yourself?”

“What’s the point of caring for yourself if you don’t care for anyone else?”

They both stopped a moment. Even Phoenix seemed surprised by that. He looked back toward Trucy’s room.

“I already failed to help her once. I had to do something. I…I've already lost everything, and if I can't even…if I can't even help one kid…” He felt his eyes sting. “…I think I needed her too, Miles.”

For a moment, Edgeworth didn't react. Then he sighed, reached out, and gently wrapped his arms around Phoenix.

///

Phoenix Wright’s New To-Do List

• Make things right
• Deal with Redd White
• Deal with von Karma
• Deal with Kristoph
• Travel to Kurain
• Help Apollo and Athena and Trucy
• Fix as much as possible
• As long as you’re stuck here, just fix as much as possible

///

As it turned out, he was better than The Borscht Bowl’s new poker champion. He was also much, much smaller than The Borscht Bowl’s new poker champion. His second poker round at the card table left him with enough money for a few more motel nights and a black eye. He was only happy about one of those things.

“Apologies,” Orly said, not sounding as sorry as she should be as she ushered him from the building. “He has bad temper. Maybe not come back so soon, da?”

He was tempted to snap at her. Your place is horrible and your accent is fake. Instead he nodded, giving her a strained smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Have good life!” And she shut the door.

He let out a breath, hand running over his wallet. The man had accused him of cheating, and tried to take his money back. Phoenix wasn’t sure what he’d do if he lost all his money. Could he even get a job if he didn’t exist? He couldn’t exactly fill out tax forms. Maybe he should sew a hundred into his beanie. It wouldn’t be the weirdest thing hidden in there.

Ah well. The day was still youngish.

He started off toward his next destination.

He had an idea of what he wanted to do now. For the first week of being here, he’d felt untethered. This wasn’t his world. These weren’t his friends. Everything he cared about was gone.

But that wasn’t true. Trucy was still here. And maybe she wasn’t his Trucy, but she was Trucy nonetheless. And even if he’d already failed them all, Trucy, Athena, Apollo, Maya and Edgeworth, he still had an obligation to do something. He was the only one who knew how to make things right, and damn it if he wasn’t going to do everything he could to do so.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t a lawyer. Well, an employed lawyer, anyway. He had no assets, no evidence, no money, nothing except the knowledge of what had really happened.

But he had a feeling he knew at least someone who that would matter to. And after all, if he had to start over, might as well start from the beginning.

///

The door to Godot’s Coffee protested loudly as he shoved it open, drowning out the jingling bell. Immediately, several pairs of eyes looked up. Phoenix was surprised to see that there were customers. The two men seemed just as surprised to see him. They froze, looking like they’d been in the middle of a deep conversation, quickly closing some sort of briefcase. They stared intently at him as he stepped inside, and something about the way they watched him made Phoenix really, really certain he’d stepped into something he shouldn’t have.

Godot, of course, was leaning behind the counter, looking bored. He also seemed surprised to see Phoenix, although considerably less upset. “Oh shit, a return customer.”

“Uh. Hello,” Phoenix said, avoiding eye contact with the two men as he quickly shuffled past. “I’m, uh, here for more coffee…?”

“Bad day?” Godot motioned toward his face.

Phoenix grimaced slightly, prodding at his own eye. “Weirdly enough, not the worst day I’ve had this week.”

He nodded sympathetically. “Here to wallow in the depths of a bitter brew, huh? My kind of guy.” He turned to start rummaging behind the counter. “Sorry about those two,” he added, motioning over Phoenix’s shoulder. He could hear the men's conversation start again in a hushed whisper. “They usually come in here because it’s empty.”

“And you’re…okay with that?” Phoenix asked.

Godot shrugged. “They buy coffee. Why should I care what else they do?” He took a sip of his own mug “Besides, no one else comes in here. They’re basically my only income. Why look your only gift horse in the mouth? Particularly if your gift horse could have a gun.”

“…great. Wow. Okay.” Everything about this exchange was telling him he was making a mistake. After all, Trucy and Gumshoe were different people. He could only imagine how much Godot had changed in eight years. (Eight? Seven? Phoenix could barely keep count.)

But Phoenix had a feeling that some things were the same.

“Hey, uh, Mr. Godot, can I ask you a personal question?”

Godot paused, having pulled out some coffee filters. He looked up, giving a flat, suspicious smile. “Personal how?”

Well. Now or never. “Do you… Did you know someone named Mia Fey?”

And with that, Godot froze.

They stood there for a moment, Godot’s eyes seemingly locked on Phoenix’s. His smile remained, face unmoving. And Phoenix was really, really, really starting to think he’d made a mistake here.

“Hmm. I knew there was something interesting about you.” And then, just as quickly, Godot turned and started moving things around. “Alright, store’s closed! Everyone out.”

“…huh?”

“Not you,” Godot snapped at him, maniacal grin remained plastered in place. “You two!”

The two men whispering in the back jumped. “Wha—?”

“Store’s closed!” Godot announced. “Lunch break. Water main break. Gas leak. Whatever. Get out of my store. Come back later.”

“Wh—Bu—You can’t just—”

“We’re kind of in the middle of something—”

“Listen. You lost your privacy anyway.” He motioned toward Phoenix, who looked between the three of them in panic. “Just come back in two hours. You can do whatever you want then.”

“Wait,” Phoenix protested. “You really don’t need to—”

“Fine, we’re going,” the men said, grabbing up their things. “We’ll be back.”

“But, uh, Godot I don’t—”

The men filed out, and the door slammed shut behind them.

The silence lingered for a moment. Phoenix held his breath, heart pounding loudly in his ears. Then, Godot turned back to the coffee. “You remember what blend I gave you last time?”

Phoenix blinked. “What?”

“Coffee,” Godot said. “I’m making us coffee. Any bitter conversation deserves a bitter brew.” An annoyed grunt. “Mm, out of blend 23 though…”

Phoenix let the breath out. “Uh. You said it was…new? If that helps.”

“It doesn’t.” Godot scooped something into the coffee machine and turned toward Phoenix. “So. You’ve gotten my attention.”

“…did you really need to kick those guys out to have this conversation?” Phoenix asked, feeling his panic at least settling a bit.

“Their personal lives aren’t my business. Mine isn’t there’s.” He leaned forward. “Yours, however, has become very interesting to me just now, Mr…?”

“It’s Wright…Phoenix Wright,” he said, feeling like a bug on a microscope.

“Phoenix Wright, huh?” Godot folded his hands, leaning in. “Well, Mr. Wright, let’s talk about Mia Fey.”

“First, can I ask what…you know about Mia’s death?”

It was hard to read Godot’s expression with his mask, but he leaned back against the wall as he continued to watch Phoenix, hands tucked into his pockets. “Blunt force trauma to the head,” he said. “Killed with a landline. Murdered by her sister.” A pause. “…or so they say.”

A landline, huh? I guess she wouldn’t have Larry’s clock…

“You don’t believe that.” He said it more than he asked.

Godot considered him for a second. “Someone hands you a cup,” he said, reaching over and grabbing the finished coffee from nearby. He turned and poured it into some mugs. “A stranger. Says it’s full of coffee. Never saw him make the coffee. All you have is his word. Do you drink it?” And then he set the coffee down in front of Phoenix.

“…uh…” he looked down at the coffee in front of him. Was this a test?

Godot snorted and took a swig of his own. “Didn’t think so,” he said. “Afraid to burn your tongue, Mr. Wright?”

“I mean, to be fair, I watched you make this.” Phoenix grabbed the mug, swishing the liquid inside. “And I can smell the stuff. I’m pretty sure it’s coffee.”

“Fair. You watched it happen. You watched me drink my own. You trust your own judgement, and you know I didn’t just boil mud and put it in a cup. You trust your own senses and you’d be willing to take a swig.”

“Alright,” Phoenix said, taking a small sip of his own and making a face at the taste.

“Of course, that method isn’t perfect either,” Godot said with a wolfish grin. “I could’ve slipped something in there if you weren’t watching closely.”

“Uhhhhhhh…” Phoenix swallowed. There was definitely a weird aftertaste. He set his cup down. “…did you?”

“Hazelnut flavoring,” he replied. “It was mostly to make a point. The stuff tastes horrible. Might be past its expiration.” He sipped again. “Only in your cup, though.”

“Great.” He sipped tentatively again, and yeah, there it was. Hazelnut. “So what, don’t trust your own judgment either? What’s the point of that metaphor?”

“Let’s get back on topic.” Godot walked around the counter, over to a table, and he plopped down. “What do you know about Mia?”

“I…” Godot watched him with a humorless smile, leaning in on folded hands. And Phoenix knew he had a decision to make.

This was not the Godot he met just under a decade ago. And to be fair, the man Phoenix knew was technically a murderer anyway. The man Phoenix knew was broken, angry, fueled by spite and self-loathing. Was this man just that, aged almost ten years? Was this a man he could reason with? Was he dangerous?

Phoenix did not trust Godot. Not in the least. But even when walking in here, there was one thing that Phoenix did trust. Godot, then and now, cared about one thing, and one thing only.

“I know who murdered Mia Fey.”

The words hung in the air for a moment. Godot didn’t move. Didn’t react. But Phoenix could feel something shift. Something cold.

“That right?” Godot asked finally, cocking his head a bit with his smarmy grin. “Well. Go on. I’m all ears. Tell me.”

“Do you know the name Redd White?”

Still no reaction, save for his thumb rubbing the mug handle. Phoenix had the feeling he’d be a good poker player. “Name might’ve come up,” he said.

“Well. Redd White is the man who ruined Misty Fey’s life.” So many memories. Maya’s trial. Iris’s trial. The DL-6 incident. Edgeworth. “Redd White of Bluecorp. He was sold information, and he used it to drag her name through the mud. Her life was ruined, and she disappeared. Mia knew this.” Phoenix finally sat down across from Godot, setting his coffee down. “She spent years hunting him down. Collecting every scrap of evidence she could. And she was finally ready to confront him. But he was keeping tabs on her too.”

He ran his hands through his hair. God, so many memories. Mia’s body at the window. Maya being led out in cuffs. Redd White punching him in the face. “He knew if she came forward he’d be done for. So he decided to silence her the only way scum like that knows how.”

“By bashing her pretty head open, right?” Godot supplied, and Phoenix flinched.

“Y…Yeah, that,” he mumbled, taking another sip. He could almost smell the blood again. Ten years was a lifetime and an instant all at once.

“Hmm. Well.” Godot chugged the rest of his coffee. “Good story, Mr. Wright.”

He blinked from his reprieve. “Huh?”

“Real exciting. Detailed even. But it’s missing a few pieces.”

“Missing—what—you don’t believe me?” Phoenix sputtered.

“I don’t believe a lot of things,” Godot said. “Don’t take it too personally.”

“Why not?!” Phoenix stood up. His chair clattered to the floor behind him. “I know what happened! I know who killed Mia! His name is Redd White, and he’s still out there ruining lives!”

“And how do you know this, Mr. Wright?”

Phoenix froze. “Huh?”

“Mia was looking for revenge. Mia was killed for her silence. Mia this, Mia that. How did you find all this out?” He sat back, mug dangling loosely from his hand. “Do you have proof, or am I supposed to take you at your word?”

“P…Proof…?” Oh shit how did he always forget that part.

Godot gave him a look. “And here I thought you were an attorney,” he muttered. “Either you’re trying to send me on a wild goose chase or something convinced you. But all you’re doing is spouting baseless nonsense. This happened, that happened, Redd White killed Mia Fey. I’m not interested in chasing my own tail.”

“W-Well, what, do you have any better leads?”

Godot’s smirk faltered for a second. “That—That’s besides the point,” he snapped. “The point is—”

“She had a bunch of files about him,” he said, suddenly remembering. “A-And, well, no, not files about him. It was…” He thought for a moment, trying to remember. “S. Suicide. The files on suicide. White stole everything filed under W, but she had a collection of articles about famous suicides, and she wrote White on them.”

And then, Godot’s smile disappeared completely. Phoenix gave him a relieved smile. He knew he could think of something concrete. All they needed to do was find those files, and voila! Evidence.

“How…”

“Huh?” For a moment, Phoenix thought he’d imagined it. “How what?”

“How do you know about those files?”

…uh oh…

“W-What do you mean?” Phoenix asked, giving his most innocent smile.

“Mia’s files.” His voice was quiet. Even. Calm. “The ones that she wrote on. How do you know what was in them?”

“…I…uh…is there a problem…?”

“How did you read those files?” he asked, and he stood up slowly. “How did you read those files that I’ve had in my back room for seven goddamn years?”

Uh oh uh oh uh oh “Y-You have Mia’s files?”

“Yes I have Mia’s files,” he said. “And I’ve had them for seven years. So the question becomes Where and When did you read these?” And he leaned in close, towering over Phoenix. And abruptly, Phoenix remembered that this was a man who had killed before. “Now this leads me to two possibilities,” he said. “Option one: you’ve been going through my back room. And I think there might be some consequences for option one.”

Oh god oh god oh god oh god “Okay, great, what’s option two?”

“Option two,” he said, “would be that you’ve known for a while. You knew who really killed Mia Fey, and while I’ve been trapped in my own personal hell, you’ve sat on this information for seven. Goddamn. Years.” The corner of his mouth twitched into a weirdly angry grin. “And, oddly enough, that doesn’t really sit well for me either.”

Phoenix Wright, you have made a mistake. He swallowed, trying to regain some composure as Godot stared him down. What was he supposed to say to that? It’s true, if Phoenix knew all of this, he should have, would have, come forward years ago. He had come forward years ago. He’d done this already.

“I didn’t…I didn’t get all the information in time,” he said slowly, trying to stay as relaxed as possible. He knew what tics to avoid, Trucy had shown him most of his tells. “Maya was already executed. I didn’t know what to do with the files when I had them, and once I put the pieces together they were gone. And no one was going to believe me. No one else cared that they’d grabbed the wrong person. No one else cared.” He stared determinedly at Godot’s face. “But I think you do, don’t you.”

For a moment, Godot didn’t move. He seemed to be deliberating, silently. Then, finally, he leaned back. Phoenix took a step back as well, trying to steady his breathing. “You’re right about one thing,” Godot said darkly.

“W-What is that?”

“I don’t have any leads.” He turned, grabbed Phoenix’s coffee, and downed it in one go. “Step into my office, Mr. Wright.” And he turned and disappeared into the back room.

Chapter Text

Godot did not have an office. He had what Phoenix would describe as a cross between a storage room and a conspiracy theorist’s wet dream.

There were large boxes of coffee supplies, stacked floor to ceiling. Coffee machines, coffee beans, coffee blends. Coffee stains. Crates and boxes and bags, piled haphazardly on one end of the room. A few filing cabinets flanked the sides. The sort of things you’d expect in storage for a coffee shop.

At the base of these boxes was a single mattress and a blanket. No pillow, no sheets, just a plain mattress, fraying on the end. It appeared to have been used recently. Another Yelp review to check off the list. Directly next to it was a single, rusting metal door. Phoenix sincerely hoped it led to a toilet, and not a back alley.

Somehow, none of these features were the oddest thing about this room.

“What the actual hell is this?” he asked, half in awe, at the large corkboard taking up the entire eastern wall of the room.

“This,” Godot said, “is what seven years of research looks like.”

An old photo of Mia sat at the center. A candid polaroid Phoenix had never seen before. Nearby was Maya’s mugshot, and a picture of a glowering, twenty-four-year-old Miles Edgeworth labeled Fey v. State. There were also photos of Misty Fey, along with her photo from the author’s credits of The Magic Bottle. Tied to Misty’s first photo was Gregory Edgeworth, Robert Hammond, and a few photocopies labeled DL-6, Yogi v. State. There was Grossberg, Dahlia, Iris’s picture in Oh! Cult!, what appeared to be a brochure of Kurain Village, and pictures of a variety of people Phoenix had never seen or heard of.

There were documents pinned up throughout the board too. Many of Mia’s files. Hastily copied documents that Phoenix didn’t recognize. Many from Terry Fawles’s case. Many from the murder of Doug Swallow. Some from cases Mia worked under Grossberg, some from throughout the Fey and Co. Law Offices’ short existence. There were also hand written notes pinned up throughout. Dahlia, Iris, different? with what looked like a grainy photo of a birth certificate. Brosden case dropped. Related? A yellowed copy of an autopsy report that Phoenix didn’t recognize.

It was organized and horrible, a spider web of faces and people and suspicion. And there, on one end, tacked next to a photo of April May, was that single, stupid, grinning picture of Redd White, sparkling like some demented diamond.

As Phoenix stared, openmouthed, Godot knelt down and pulled up a ball of fraying red yarn. “So. Redd White. April May’s employer.” He put in a tac. “I never got much information about him. I did notice those files though. I always found it odd his name came up at all. But every path in his direction lead to a dead end.” He took another tac and linked White’s photo to Misty Fey. “Someone sold her out after she failed a channeling. Misty then cuts and runs. Mia becomes an attorney and starts her own investigation.”

“She didn’t fail the channeling.”

Godot glanced over. “Is that right,” he said flatly.

Shit. Wait. I shouldn’t know that. “I-I mean…” Lie or stop talking, lie or stop talking. He had to do one. “I mean, just because she accused the wrong person doesn’t mean the channeling failed, right?”

“Didn’t realize you liked ghost stories, Mr. Trite.” Ah, there it is. The Godot I know and love. Godot stretched his back, and Phoenix could hear some cracks. God, Godot was almost forty, wasn’t he? “Any other enlightening facts you’d like to share?” he asked.

Phoenix looked at the chart. There was one obviously missing connection. “…Redd White got his info from Marvin Grossberg.”

Godot seemed to freeze in place. “What?”

“Grossberg. Robert Hammond was the defense for the DL-6 incident, where they called Gregory Edgeworth back from the dead to name an accuser. Grossberg sold that info to Redd White. White used that to blackmail Grossberg back.”

For the first time, there was genuine surprise. “Grossberg…Grossberg did,” he repeated. “Grossberg…” An odd look crossed his face, one that Phoenix had never seen before. Not shock, but realization. He turned, moving across the room, almost trancelike, toward that large filing cabinet. He yanked the bottom door open, grabbing out a large file and tossing it open as he bent down. Phoenix peeked over, catching a glimpse of Mia’s handwriting.

‘Finally, the names of two men surfaced. One was Marvin Grossberg, a lawyer who sold my mother's information for riches.’

Godot stared at Misty Fey’s file. Then he looked up toward the board. “That…That…” His hand tightened around the tac in his other hand. “I knew it.”

“…you did?”

“God damn it,” he murmured softly. “That lying…” He inhaled through his nose, stony-faced. Then his fist slammed against the cabinet.

Phoenix jumped. “Wh—”

“That lying son of a bitch.” His voice was calm, but his white knuckles, and the large dent in the cabinet, said otherwise. “That bastard. He knew, didn’t he?”

 “I-I’m sorry,” Phoenix started, but Godot didn’t seem to notice him.

“I knew he knew something,” he muttered. “He refused to take the sister’s case…and he knew the whole goddamn…” He inhaled sharply, and pulled his hand back. It was shaking. Phoenix was surprised to see blood dripping down Godot’s wrist. Had he still been holding that pin? “I spoke to him, you know,” he said. “Before he died, I asked him what he knew. And he told me he didn’t know anything—”

“Grossberg is dead?!”

“Wh—” That got Godot’s attention. He turned toward Phoenix. “Y…Yeah?”

Grossberg?! Phoenix wracked his brain but, no, as far as he knew, Grossberg was alive in his own world. Grossberg dies without Phoenix?!?! “When?” he asked. “How? Why?!?!”

“Died maybe five years ago,” Godot said, clambering back to his feet. “His alcoholism finally caught up with him.”

“His what?!”

Now it was Godot’s turn to look confused. “Here I thought you knew everything about this case,” he said. “Grossberg was an alcoholic for years. Certainly since before I met him.”

Phoenix opened and closed his mouth a few times. “I…really?!”

“It was a pretty open secret,” Godot said. “He was what we in the business would call a ‘functional alcoholic’, at least at the beginning.” He turned to pin a string between White and Grossberg. “For over a decade, he’d go to work, go home, and drink himself into a stupor. Never affected him in public. Never affected his business.” He jammed the tac into Grossberg’s face was a sardonic grin. “That is, not until Mia’s death.”

Oh my god. “He always said he felt guilty,” he said, head reeling. “I didn’t realize…”

“Of course he felt guilty,” Godot said, inspecting his handiwork. “Didn’t make him make things right, did it? He was content to poison his own fields as long as no one knew where the poison came from.”

“Wow,” Phoenix said. “I…legitimately had no idea.”

“Well. I guess it doesn’t matter. The old bastard’s six feet under, sleeping as soundly as death will allow.” He started twisting the string around his fingers. Phoenix could see blood dripping down his arm. “So, what else? Any other revelations for me, Mr. Wright?”

He considered it for a moment, letting his eyes drift back to the red spiderweb. “About Mia’s death? Not really. I think I’ve told you everything relevant.”

“Hmm.” He seemed disappointed, scratching his chin. “Well, it’s a start,” he said finally.

“So you believe me?” Phoenix asked, feeling just a tiny spark of hope in his gut.

“I’m debating,” he said. “After all, the Grossberg information fills in some pretty big blanks.” He turned, and started rummaging through the filing cabinet again. “I want to do my own investigating. You know Bluecorp’s address off the top of your head?”

“No, but I’ve been there before. It’s not too far from my off—” You don’t have an office, Phoenix. “…from Mia’s old office.”

He could feel rather than see Godot’s eyes on him. But if he was suspicious, he made no other indication. “Alright, I know where that is…”

“So what is your plan?”

Godot’s face drifted back toward the wall, toward Mia’s photo. “I could ask you the same question.”

“Hmm?”

“You’re giving me information,” Godot said. “Information you have no business knowing. But I sure as hell don’t know where you fit into this little map. What do you want me to do with this information? Why do you care so much? What’s your end goal, Mr. Wright?”

Phoenix looked at Mia’s picture as well, pinned to the center. She looked so young. And really, Phoenix was already older than she’d ever be. She was smiling her confident smile, laughing at something.

God, sometimes Phoenix forgot how much he missed her.

“I want to put White away,” he said. “I need proof. I need evidence. And I really can’t do that alone.” He turned toward Godot, who was watching him closely. “Mia was my friend. I cared about her. A lot. And I’m pretty sure you did too.” Taking a deep breath, he stuck out his hand toward Godot. “Will you help me put White away?”

Godot glanced down at the hand. His own fingers flexed. Then, a cold smile spread across his face. “Mr. Wright,” he said, “if this man murdered Mia, I will personally make sure he never hurts anyone ever again.” And he reached out and shook it.

///

Phoenix Wright’s New To-Do List

• Make things right
• Case Bluecorp
• Find evidence against Redd White
• Send evidence to someone(?)
• Deal with von Karma
• Deal with Kristoph
• Travel to Kurain
• Help Apollo and Athena and Trucy
• Fix as much as possible
• As long as you’re stuck here, just fix as much as possible

///

It was getting late by the time the two of them had made their way across town toward Bluecorp. They were camped in a crappy café across the street. The windows weren’t the cleanest, and the glare from the sun was a little distracting, but the cafe served its purpose. They had a good enough view to see who was going in and out of the front doors.

It was a modern building, of course. Sleek. Shiny. Piercing the orange-and-pink sky, looking down at the city below. Phoenix hated it.

In the real world, the building itself was now owned by some new tech firm. Bluecorp had collapsed in on itself the moment Redd White confessed to murder. Suddenly, the untouchable corporation was up for grabs, and the sharks swarmed in to tear it to shreds. He’d call it poetic justice if he were more confident he was using the phrase correctly.

But Bluecorp hadn’t collapsed, at least not here. There it stood, glinting like its owner, and Phoenix felt a wave of loathing.

From their vantage point, they could see the front doors easily. There were security guards just inside the entrance. From the look of their uniforms, Phoenix guessed maybe KB security.

“Even if we talked our way past security, I don’t really know what to do once we go inside,” he said.

“You said you’ve been here before.”

“Yeah, but it was a while ago,” Phoenix said. “And I didn’t exactly search the place. I just went in and asked around.” And got punched in the face by their CEO. “They’re a blackmailing agency. They don’t go around giving tours. Their main offices are definitely on the top floor, but other than that, I got nothing.”

"Hmm." Godot took a sip of his thermos. He’d brought his own coffee, of course, and had glared intently when a waitress had offered him a drink. “Technically they're an 'Information-Gathering' company," he said.

"What difference does that make?"

"Not much," he said. "Information-gathering is information-gathering. If they're gathering it, then the question becomes where are they putting it? You can’t build an empire of blackmail and never collect evidence.”

Phoenix nodded. "That's true."

Godot screwed the cap back on, never once taking his eyes off the building across the way. “What do they have in terms of security? Cameras? Are the guards armed?”

Phoenix glanced at Godot. “We’re not planning a heist here,” he said firmly. “I’m not getting a case thrown out because our evidence is illegal.”

“Hey, as long as we don’t get caught,” Godot said. “Besides, we’re independent of the police. Most ‘exclusionary evidence’ rules only apply to cops.”

“Okay, but that isn’t going to matter if we get arrested first,” Phoenix shot back.

“Sure, sure, whatever you say,” Godot said, grinning at him.

Phoenix took a deep breath, turning toward his companion. “I want this guy in prison,” he said. “And I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to risk a verdict for anything. If it takes a bit longer to collect evidence, then fine. But if we want a chance at this, we need to build an airtight case.”

Godot nodded, taking another gulp. “Say, Wright, you’re a defense attorney, right? Not a prosecutor?”

“Wh…yeah,” he said.

“You understand I was a defense attorney also, right? Not a prosecutor?”

“Yeah? I’m aware.”

Godot laughed. “Ah. Just making sure.” Another sip. “For a defense attorney, you’re very concerned with putting a man in prison.”

“Well, so are you,” Phoenix countered, eyes drifting back toward the top floors of Bluecorp.

Unnoticed by Phoenix, Godot’s mouth twitched upward. “…right,” he murmured, eyes returning to the building as well. “…prison…”

“Hmm?”

“Nothing.”

Chapter Text

Getting to know Diego Armando was maybe the most surreal experience of Phoenix’s life.

In one reality, Phoenix Wright had only known Godot for about four months. Every meeting had been tense, angry. Godot had hated him. Only in the last twenty-four hours of them knowing each other had Godot had his change of heart. And then he was gone.

So, color Phoenix surprised when he learned he was an actual person.

For about a week, they worked, building some semblance of a case against Redd White. When Phoenix wasn’t finding a poker place to hustle for money, he was either casing Bluecorp or simply building his case in Godot’s coffee shop. Godot usually watched when he was working at the shop, providing him with Mia’s files and any other evidence that seemed relevant. Other times he would up and disappear, leaving Phoenix simply locked in the store for an hour or two.

“I don’t honestly care that much if you turn out to be a robber,” Godot told him by the third day. “Just leave me enough coffee to last a few days.”

Godot, when his ire was focused elsewhere, was actually not that bad. Sure, he had a dark sense of humor, and most of the metaphors were a little opaque. But without the constant jabs at his competence and personality, Phoenix could kind of see why he and Mia hit it off.

Phoenix started spending more time at Godot’s coffee place than his motel room. It was sort of nice to have someone to talk to while he worked, even if it was just Godot. It’d been a while since he’d gotten so caught up in a case, too. Every waking moment, his brain was dedicated to thinking through his case. What information they needed. How they would get it. What information they could get without breaking into Bluecorp’s back offices.

It needs to be airtight. I need to put White away. There has to be a way to force his hand again. There has to be something I can use.

By the time Friday rolled around, Phoenix’s brain was fried. His feet dragged along the pavement as he made his way back toward Godot’s Coffee. The sky was a deep blue above his head, but there was no way he was going to enjoy it now. He had things to do. He had work to do.

Godot himself seemed amused as Phoenix stumbled in, already piling some of the papers Phoenix had been working on onto the counter. “Don’t you have something better to do?” he said with a wry grin.

Phoenix cracked his neck and rubbed a hand over his face. “Not yet,” he said, other hand idly brushing the To-Do list in his pocket. “Do you?”

Godot looked him over as Phoenix stood there, face unreadable. Phoenix frowned back at him. “What?” he asked.

“You eaten yet, Mr. Wright?”

Almost as if on cue, Phoenix’s stomach gurgled. He hadn’t eaten, actually. With how tight money was at the moment, food seemed to be the easiest corner to cut. “I, uh, ate earlier,” he lied.

He could almost see Godot roll his eyes, before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a crumpled twenty. “One everything bagel, toasted.”

“Huh?”

“My order,” Godot said with a grin. He strode across the room, handing the money to Phoenix, and ushering him from the store. “There’s a bagel place two minutes down the main road. And since you’re doing me a favor, you can do what you want with the change.”

“Wh…I really don’t—Listen, I appreciate the money, but—”

“Ha! What, do you think I’m nice enough to just hand out money? Go buy me the bagel.” And Godot slammed the door in his face.

Phoenix stood there a moment, staring at the iron door with a crumpled twenty in his hand. After a moment, he sighed and walked off toward the bagel place. It really was an odd change of pace from the man who refused to even say his name correctly for about four months straight. They barely felt like the same person.

And for the first time since arriving in this horrible reality, it was a nice change of pace.

By the time he returned, Godot had placed Phoenix’s work onto a table. Phoenix handed him his food and sat down. No more distractions, he told himself, gnawing on his own bagel.

One particularly odd thing was that Godot seemed rather unconcerned with building the case against White himself. For someone who spent so much time obsessing over revenge, he wasn’t that keen on the logistics of the plan.

He was a plethora of information on Mia’s research, having poured through it all probably a thousand times. And he was good at getting information on Bluecorp itself. He’d found schematics of the building, and maps of some of the public areas. He’d dug up more information on the suicides Mia had been recording, tracking down every potential blackmail-ee. Phoenix was pretty sure, given more time, Godot could find a novel’s-worth information on White.

However, while Phoenix would spread out the information they had gathered on the plastic folding table, Godot would simply busy himself behind the counter, or else lean on it and judge Phoenix’s work out loud.

“I feel like the Boulder case would probably make your point better there.”

“You should probably make a note of the discrepancies in the Router deposition. Maybe in a footnote.”

“You spelled ‘Litigation’ wrong.”

“I know what I’m doing, Mr. Godot,” Phoenix finally snapped, glaring at the smug man looking over his shoulder. “If you’re so worried about how I’m doing it, you’re allowed to do some of the work yourself.”

“I’m not a prosecutor,” he replied. “I’m not even a defense attorney. Haven’t been for a decade. You can’t brew a good drink if you threw out the coffee beans ten years ago.” He looked almost bitter as he grinned, sipping at his drink. “That part of my life died when Diego Armando did.”

Phoenix looked at him for a moment, surprised by the admission. He certainly wasn't used to any sort of sincere emotion from Godot. He frowned, trying to think of a response. “I wouldn’t be so sure,” he said slowly. “A-About the attorney thing, not the…beans.” Godot snorted at him. “No, but I’m serious. Honestly, law sometimes feels like riding a bicycle. Even when it’s—”

He stopped himself, realizing what he was saying. Godot looked at him expectantly. Was this oversharing? He was talking to Godot after all. But…well, what would opening up a little hurt? “…even when everything's taken from you, it never really disappears,” he finished, turning back to the papers in front of him. “Not entirely. Muscle memory, I guess”

“…is that right,” Godot murmured. For once, it sounded sincere. Sincere, but sad. Resigned.

It occurred to him then. They really weren’t that different, were they? Back then, back when he’d lost Mia, Phoenix had something. He had Maya. He had goals. He’d had direction. But now, he really had lost everything. Family, friends, purpose. All taken from him. Much like Diego Armando waking up from a coma.

He and Godot really weren’t that different.

Phoenix looked back up at him from the sunken lawn chair, setting the pen down for a moment. He’d originally thought Godot was unchanged, but that wasn’t fully accurate. Godot’s face was a bit more lined than it had been years ago. He looked far more tired. Sadder. Worn down. What must it be like, to lose everything, to search fruitlessly for so long?

“You could always go back, too, you know,” Phoenix said, resting an arm on the table in front of him and turning in his seat. “I doubt you’ve forgotten everything about being an attorney.”

Godot chuckled. “No. The law hasn’t freed me from her clutches yet, but…” He glanced up at the window. “No, I tried to go back once. When I first woke up. …I think that door locked itself to me a long time ago.”

“Oh. I see,” he said. “Well. Have you given much thought to what you’ll do once we put White away?”

The corners of Godot’s mouth twitched upwards. “Not at all.”

And the world lurched.

Phoenix jumped in surprise, grabbing the armrest as the sound of scraping chains filled his ears. “Wh…” The world grew dark, and three large, red locks slammed into view as the chains wrapped their way around Godot.

“…you alright over there?”

“Th..Wha…” Psyche-Locks?! Why Psyche-Locks?! That wasn’t even an invasive question!

“Come on, Wright, I know I’m attractive but my eyes are up here somewhere.”

Phoenix’s head snapped up as the locks hid themselves again. Godot was grinning back at him, like he’d been making a joke. “Sorry. Sorry I, uh, saw a. Bug.”

Godot opened his mouth to reply. Instead, the Steel Samurai theme began to chime. Phoenix jumped, nerves already frayed, and scrambled for his phone. “Who in the hell…?”

Detective Gumshoe

Phoenix stared at the name. He reread it once, twice, before finally answering. “Uh, hello?”

“Hey there,” came a familiar voice. “Mr. Wright, right?”

“R-Right,” Phoenix answer, pushing the files back into some semblance of order. “Right, this is Wright. Right.” Godot snorted at him, which Phoenix promptly ignored.

“This is Detective Gumshoe. The PI. From last Thursday.”

“Yeah, I remember you, Detective Gumshoe. Is something wrong?”

“I was hoping to, uh, discuss something with you. You got any free time?”

“Oh, uh, sure. About what?”

“It’s about Miles Edgeworth.”

///

Phoenix Wright’s New To-Do List

• Make things right
• Case Bluecorp
• Find evidence against Redd White
• Send evidence to someone(?)
• Deal with von Karma
• Deal with Kristoph
• Travel to Kurain
• Help Apollo and Athena and Trucy
• Fix as much as possible
• As long as you’re stuck here, just fix as much as possible

///

“Here ya go.” A cup of hot chocolate was set in front of him as Kay brushed past. He jumped and looked up, but she was already striding into the next room.

“Glad you could make it, pal,” Gumshoe said. He looked as gruff and ragged as ever, sitting in his ratty chair. But there was an excitement to him that Phoenix hadn’t seen last time. There was a spark in his eyes that looked like the old Gumshoe.

“Yeah,” he said. “No problem. What’s this about?”

Phoenix had left quickly once he’d hung up on Gumshoe. Edgeworth’s name always seemed to do that to him. Godot had scooped up the papers he’d been working on, promising to keep them safe if he was being arrested.

“There’s a key in the back,” he had added, stuffing Phoenix’s files into a box. “It’s hidden behind the dumpster. If I’m not here, you can just let yourself in.”

A loud thunk drew him back to the present, as Kay set down a cardboard box outside her room. “This one, right Gummy?”

“That’s the one,” he said. “Thanks, pal.” Gumshoe reached over and pulled the box closer. “So, uh. Heya.”

“Hi?” He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. It was ripping in one corner. “What did you want to talk about, Detective?”

“You knew Mr. Edgeworth.” It was a statement, though with enough of a lilt to require a quick nod. “And you know I worked with him.”

“Yeah, I…I knew him. Edgeworth. A long time ago. I…hadn’t really talked to him for a while before he…before he died.” It was a lie and the truth all in one. Which hurt more, the idea that he hadn’t seen Edgeworth in years, or that they’d been living together until only a few weeks ago?

Gumshoe nodded along as Phoenix spoke. Then he stood up, grabbing two small folders off the top of the cardboard box. “Mr. Wright. I’m a PI. That stands for Private Investigator.”

“…I am aware,” Phoenix said, after a weird pause.

“I’m a Private Investigator,” he continued. “That means I’m good at, uh, investigating. Privately.”

“Detective, I promise you, I know what a Private Investigator is.”

“Oh. Right, yeah.” Gumshoe scratched the back of his head sheepishly before continuing. “Point is, we have a process here. We’re good at finding people, and things.” He opened the first folder. “We start with anything. A picture, a name.” He tossed out the picture of Trucy onto the coffee table, as well as the Gramarye article. “We can find all sorts of stuff. We can track people and know where they go, what they do.” He pulled out the address of Trucy’s school, and some files on Trucy’s foster family. “We are good at finding people, Mr. Wright.”

Phoenix started sweating under Gumshoe’s stern gaze. “W-Where are you going with this, Detective?” he asked, giving him his most confident smile.

Gumshoe reached over and opened the next folder. Phoenix Wright. It was empty. “We’ve looked everywhere. Every database we have access to—”

“And a few we technically don’t!” Kay chimed.

“—and no one matches. Not even when comparing your photo. No face, no name. No one in Mr. Edgeworth’s schools. No one in the state of California. As far as we got, Phoenix Wright isn’t a real person.”

Yes, okay, definitely sweating. “T-That’s weird.”

Gumshoe leaned in. “Mr. Wright. I think I’ve figured you out.” And then he grinned. “You…are in the Witness Protection Program!”

“…huh?”

Gumshoe reached across the table and patted him hard on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, pal. I got it all figured out. Your secret is safe with me.”

“My—My secret?”

“You were a witness to a crime,” he said. “A murder. You secretly testified for the prosecution, and they gave you a new identity. Now you’re in hiding.” He nodded knowingly. “Don’t worry, ‘Mr. Wright’” —he made air quotes— “as a former police detective, I would never put a civilian at risk.”

“That—uh—wait—”

“But.” And his happy grin turned to something a bit darker. “If you testified for the prosecution, what makes you so sure that Mr. Edgeworth was innocent, huh? That’s what I wanna know, pal.”

“Objection!” Damn it, Phoenix. “I-I mean…I’m not…I didn’t…I’m not in the Witness Protection Program,” he protested. “And I sure as hell never testified against Edgeworth.”

Gumshoe nodded again, smiling like he was in on a secret. “Suuuuure, pal,” he said.

“I'm serious! I didn't testify!"

“Of course you didn’t. I get it.”

“But I…”

He looked around, as if he could find a good response written on the wall. Instead, he found a pair of knowing green eyes, watching him from nearby. ‘Just go with it,’ she mouthed.

“…I uh…I can’t…legally disclose that sort of information,” he finally said. “But I did not testify against Edgeworth. Not in a million years.”

Gumshoe looked him over, eyes still suspicious. “Alright. No worries, pal,” he said. “But that doesn’t get you off the hook that easy.” And he finally grabbed the large cardboard box.

It erupted with dust as he pulled it across the carpet. The box was stuffed to the brim with documents. As Gumshoe tossed the lid to the floor, Phoenix caught sight of one word written in pen. ‘Edgeworth’

“Mr. Edgeworth was arrested and charged with first-degree murder ‘bout ten years ago,” he said. “Eyewitness account, fingerprints, they had everything. Only problem is, his suicide note only talked about his father. Said he had nothing to do with Robert Hammond.” He pulled out a photocopy of a note. Phoenix stared, feeling a sharp pang in his chest at the familiar elegant penmanship. He’d even signed it.

“Now most people who kill themselves outta guilt aren’t going to lie in their suicide note,” he said. “I…we thought at first maybe it was….”

“We originally thought maybe the note was a forgery,” Kay said, and suddenly Phoenix realized she’d moved to perch on the armrest next to him. “Or maybe someone was threatening him. But we haven’t found anything backing either theory up, and according to Gummy’s friend, the handwriting matches Mr. Edgeworth’s. S’far as we’re concerned, it’s the real deal.”

“And we don’t have a ton on that DL-6 case he was talking about,” Gumshoe said. “It timed out of the system about ten years ago. Statute of limitations.”

And von Karma would never be charged for any of it.

Gumshoe took a deep breath, running a hand over his lined face. That lingering exhaustion seemed to engulf him. “It’s been ten years, you know,” he said. “Most people keep telling me to give up on it. But I just…I know Mr. Edgeworth isn’t a murderer. He was a good guy. He was…my friend.”

The three of them sat in silence. Gumshoe’s eyes remained fixed on the far wall. “Everyone says it doesn’t matter anymore,” he murmured. “Since Mr. Edgeworth is dead. And Hammond is dead. And Gregory Edgeworth is dead. But it matters to me.” He glanced down at the box, shoulders slumping. “…I don’t want Mr. Edgeworth to be remembered as a murderer. I owe him that much, at least.”

Phoenix’s vision started to blur. He cringed, quickly reaching up to wipe at his eyes. They were stinging hard. So was his chest. Biting his lip, he took a shaking breath. “I…yeah, I get what you mean.”

Gumshoe sniffled a bit as well, clearing his throat. “The point is, me and Kay have been trying to find a new lead for years, and we got nothing. If you…well…” He turned a bit sheepish. “Well. I figured you’d have a lead, since you had testified for the prosecution and all. Though I guess if you weren’t actually involved in that case…”

He had, of course. He’d been intimately involved in that case. But he couldn’t exactly tell Gumshoe that, could he. “Have you, uh…looked into the other witnesses from that case?”

“The witnesses?” Gumshoe asked.

“Yeah. We both know that Edgeworth isn’t a killer. So if he isn’t a killer, then there has to be something wrong with the testimony. Right? Find the contradiction there, and you’ll have your lead.”

Gumshoe stared at him. “That’s true,” he said. “I hadn’t even thought about it like that.”

You’ve been trying to figure out this case how long?!

“One sec, pal.” He started digging through the box, trying not to send anything flying out. Phoenix watched in amusement for a moment. Then a voice whispered in his ear.

“You know, it's kinda funny, I asked my dad once what Witness Protection was.”

Phoenix turned, seeing Kay’s face only an inch behind him. Gumshoe seemed too distracted to notice. “D-Did you?” Phoenix said.

Kay nodded. “People who’d give up their old life to stand up for what they believe in? Seemed like a heroic thing to do. Only thing is, the police are good about making sure there’s a new identity to back up the old. They don't just dump someone with no identity into the world.”

When he didn’t answer, she shrugged at him. “Just as long as you know I know,” she finished.

Phoenix swallowed. “L-Listen, I—”

She held up a finger. “I don’t care who you are, Mr. Wright,” she said. “Or why you’re hiding your identity. But I owe a lot to Gummy. He’s…he’s done so much for me, and he’s been at this dead end since forever. So long as you’re serious about helping Gummy, I’ll let it slide.” Her face turned serious for a moment. “And you’d better be serious about helping Gummy, alright Mr. Wright?”

“Got it!” Triumphantly, Gumshoe held up a case file. Kay nodded at him, and Phoenix straightened up, leaning away from her. “Edgeworth v. State! This should have all the info we need.”

“Wait. Isn’t that one a closed case too?” Phoenix said, frowning at the folder. “They put those in storage two years after they’re solved. Why do you have it?”

Gumshoe blanched. “Uhhhh…”

Kay, grinning, leaned over the back of the couch. “Even in the depths of night, when no other bird dares to take flight—”

“Ah, uh, that’s none of your business, pal,” Gumshoe interrupted quickly, shoving the file away. “Point is, we got our lead. So thanks for the help.”

Phoenix nodded, eyes fixed on the file they shouldn’t have. “…no problem,” he said. “Let me know if you find anything. I’d be happy to help you out.”

“Of course, pal.”

“…and, uh…maybe there’s one favor I could ask you guys…”

///

It was late afternoon when Phoenix slipped into the back of Godot’s store. Fortunately, the key was right where Godot had told him. Godot himself seemed to be out, wherever he went when he wasn’t obsessing over his wall of horror. The light from the high-up windows bathed the whole area in a dim gray light.

Kay had promised to call him when she had the files on Maya’s case. Sure, Godot had a pretty thorough record, but not all the evidence, or the official autopsy report(s). He doubted Godot would object to being more prepared.

Speaking of prepared…

“If I was Godot, where would I put those files,” he mused, glancing around the room. It was still disorganized, but there weren’t exactly many places he could put it. He glanced through the door into the main store, but none of Phoenix’s notes appeared to be there. After that, he turned toward that filing cabinet Godot had dented earlier. “Well that’s as good a place as any…”

He started at the bottom shelf. It’d been where Godot kept all the files he’d ‘borrowed’ from the Fey and Co. Law Offices. That seemed like the logical place to start. He searched through a couple of files, but nothing seemed to be there. It all seemed to be Mia’s.

Next drawer up appeared to be accounting books. Spending ledgers, receipts, and contracts. Boring stuff it looked like. He was about to close the drawer when a name caught his eye, and stopped his heart dead in its tracks.

…did that say Tender Lender…?

Phoenix pulled the drawer back open and grabbed the manila envelope. Yeah, that definitely said Tender Lender on it. He peaked inside, and could see all sorts of notes. Payment dates, some sort of contract. A request of collection from Viola Cadaverinni.

“Holy shit,” Phoenix murmured, setting it down. Suddenly, he felt the intense feeling of being somewhere he shouldn’t. For a moment, he could see those Psyche-Locks in his head. He quickly moved onto to the next drawer.

Pills. This was almost entirely medication. All sorts of technical medical names he couldn’t even begin to identify. A few he did. Medicine for depression and chronic pain. Presciptions Phoenix couldn't even begin to determine a purpose for. One looked like a family-sized bottle of caffeine pills.

Some looked used recently. Some did not. Some had Diego Armando written in the prescription. Some definitely did not. On top of all of these was half a bottle of vodka, and piles of medical bills.

He quickly shut that drawer, hands shaking a bit. He shouldn’t keep looking, and he knew it. But his hands drifted to the next drawer, almost of their own volition. He pulled it open.

This one was full of papers. Maps, mostly. Maps of Bluecorp. There were guest maps, the building schematics Godot had gotten. Weird brochures. Stuff about KB Security. It was all fairly normal, save for the odd way in which they were stacked.

“Is there something under here?” he murmured, reaching in to brush some of the papers aside.

Lying at the bottom of the drawer was a single, shiny new pistol.

And then a voice spoke from behind him. “Can I help you with something, Mr. Trite?”

Chapter Text

Godot’s goggles flickered faintly, a deep red illuminating his stony face. The two of them stared at each other in silence for a long moment, Phoenix still gripping the edge of the drawer.

“I was looking for my casefile,” he said.

“Is that right,” Godot muttered. “Did you find it? I think I put it in the top drawer.”

“…whoops,” Phoenix said, looking back at the drawers.

“Yeah. Whoops.” Godot crossed the room and shut the drawer, as Phoenix quickly drew his hands back.

Phoenix swallowed, taking a few steps back. “Godot, you know I have to ask. Why do you have a gun?”

“Every man is entitled to a few secrets,” he murmured, not even looking at him. “Only a fool sees a lock and thinks there’s no consequence to opening it.”

“Godot. Why do you have that gun?”

“Of course, once you open Pandora’s box, you can’t close it back up, can you.” He sighed, finally turning toward Phoenix, one hand on the drawer while the other one clutched a thermos of coffee. “Protection,” he said. “You don’t let the wolves in without being ready to defend yourself.”

“Wolves like Tender Lender?”

Godot’s knuckles whitened around the drawer handle. “…ah, so you went through all my cabinets,” he said.

“I-I started at the bottom.” Phoenix straightened his back, trying to look more confident than he did. “Godot, why the hell would you take a loan from a loan shark?”

“As much as it keeps me going, the revenge business isn’t exactly lucrative, Trite.” He grinned. “Besides I needed something to start this shithole of a business. Just enough to keep me going.”

“Okay, but you said it yourself. This isn’t making money either. How are you going to be able to pay this off after we—”

And then, all at once, a thought occurred to him. He froze, mouth still open. Godot chuckled a bit, face locked in a crooked smile. “After we what, Wright?”

His hand was shaking. He reached down, into his pocket, and grabbed the Magatama. “Godot,” he said, “what are you planning to do after we put White away?” And the grinding of chains erupted in his ears.

--Future Plans--

Godot simply smiled at him as the Psyche Locks slammed into place, wrapping around his form. “Haven’t given it much thought,” he said. “Hard to think about tomorrow when today is so…exciting.”

Phoenix took a breath, hand tightening on the stone in his pocket. “I don’t think that’s true.”

“And what makes you think that?”

He looked toward the drawer. “Tender Lender is a loan shark. They’re violent, and dangerous. And you knew that fully well, with no plans to pay them back.”

“You don’t know that,” Godot said. “Maybe I’m secretly a billionaire. My last name is actually Amano, not Armando.”

Phoenix ignored that. “You’re not planning on paying them back,” he said. “Because you don’t care about the long term. You…” His words caught in his throat for a moment. Godot’s smile remained in place, expectantly. Finally, Phoenix found his voice again. “It’s not that you’re not planning for the future. You’re not…planning to have much of a future. Are you.”

Godot snorted. A lock shattered like glass. And Phoenix felt his stomach sink.

“Okay, fine,” Godot said, tucking his hands into his pocket as he leaned against the metal drawer. “You got me, Wright. You’ve figured me out.” He elbowed the cabinet. “I’m dying.”

Phoenix refused to break eye contact, but the two more Psyche Locks gleamed at him from his periphery. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve seen the stuff in here,” he said, patting one of the drawers. The one filled with medication. “Every year, some other part of my body starts breaking down. My heart. My nerves. My lungs. I’m in pain, Wright. It’s not that hard to imagine my future is as bitter as the last dregs of coffee in the pot.” He swished his thermos a bit. “It’s a miracle I’ve lasted this long, according to the doctors. Why does it matter if I can’t pay back a loan shark?” He shrugged. “But yeah, to answer your question, I really haven’t given my future much thought.”

Slowly, Phoenix shook his head. “…no,” he said. “That’s not true either.”

“Oh?”

He took a breath. “No, I think you’ve given this some thought, Mr. Godot.”

Godot looked almost amused. “Really? Well, enlighten me, then. What have I been thinking about?”

“Mr. Godot. Can I ask when you bought that gun?”

Godot considered it for a moment. “Around the time I got the loan, I think,” he said. “Couple years ago. Just because I’ve done business with them doesn’t mean I trust them.”

“It looks new.”

Godot shrugged. “Looks can be deceiving.”

“So you got a loan a few years ago,” he said, scratching his chin. “Why did you take that loan?”

Godot considered him for a moment, before glancing away. “…do you know how much medical bills cost, Mr. Wright?”

“Uh.” He considered it a moment, trying to remember what it said in the drawer. He’d only seen it for a moment. “Probably a lot.”

“A lot,” Godot agreed. “More than a lot. More than my family could pay. Skipped town a few months in when it was clear I was just a brain-dead money drain.”

Well, that wasn’t where he thought this conversation was going. “…what?”

“Mia, actually, was the one who convinced the doctors to even bother keeping me alive, once the rest of my family ran off. Her and Grossberg I think. Attorneys. You know. Good at arguing.” He unscrewed the thermos he’d been holding in his hand. “But I woke up with no money. No family. No friends. No job. No Mia.”

His hand was shaking as he took a sip. “…sometimes, I hate her for having the compassion to keep me here,” he murmured. “But I guess that goes to show: she was always too good for me.”

Phoenix opened his mouth. Then closed it. Opened it again. “Godot.”

“Hmm?”

“…I’m…sorry,” he finally said. “Really I am.”

Godot looked amused. “Well that fixes all of my problems,” he said. “Thank you for your pity, Mr. Trite.”

“Why did you buy that gun?”

The smug grin faded. When he didn’t answer, Phoenix continued.

“You had other options for getting back on your feet. You could’ve gone back to the law. Or, hell, you could have worked at some kitschy coffee shop. But you didn’t.” Phoenix motioned around at the mess of a room. “You didn’t think revenge would take this long, did you,” he said. “You wanted short-term. You wanted something disposable, so you could focus on avenging Mia. Taking loans. Drinking coffee. And once your short-term fix ran out, you wouldn’t have to worry about it, would you? You’d be…you’d be done with everything. Wouldn’t you.”

Godot’s face remained stony. “…I think you answered your own question,” he said, and the second lock shattered.

Still one left, huh? Phoenix glared at it, trying to think. He was missing an important piece, and he knew it. Think, Phoenix.

Godot cracked a smile. “That all, Trite?”

“It’s not,” Phoenix said. “That’s not an ending I’m going to accept, Godot.”

He could almost see Godot rolling his eyes. “Listen, Wright. I don’t feel like discussing this.”

“Godot, this doesn’t need to be how your story ends. Do you really want to put White away and then just stop? You have the chance to build a new life.”

“Wright.” Godot looked about to say something, but he stopped himself, sighing. “Wright. I appreciate that you give a shit. But I read ahead. I know how this story is going to end.” A smirk. “You’re missing a few pieces of this puzzle anyway. And I don’t think it’s building the kind of picture you want to defend.”

The final Psyche-Lock gleamed in the darkness, taunting him. Come on, Phoenix, what are you missing? He shut his eyes, trying to think. Godot bought a gun. He hid it in a filing cabinet. He’s probably going to kill himself. What am I missing?

He bought a gun. He hid it in the filing cabinet. He hid it under a map of Bluecorp.

…he hid it under a map of Bluecorp.

“Bluecorp.”

“Hm?” Godot looked confused.

“You never help me with the casefile I’m working on.”

“I told you,” Godot said calmly. “I’m not an attorney anymore.”

“No, I don’t think you care about that,” Phoenix said. “But you’ve been very concerned with figuring out how to get into Bluecorp. And figuring out their security system. Why is that?”

Godot smirked. “Just thought I’d be helpful.”

“Godot.” For a moment, the words wouldn’t come. “I’m going to ask you one more time. Why did you really buy that gun?”

Godot stared at him for a long moment, smirk remaining plastered across his face. “Mr. Wright. You and I both know that Redd White isn’t going to jail.”

And the final lock shattered.

Unlock Successful

The chains receded. Phoenix couldn’t breathe. Neither of them moved. They just stood in silence.

“So.” Godot shrugged. “I guess you’ve figured it out, then. I was hoping you wouldn’t.”

“You’re going to kill Redd White.”

“Correct.” Godot was grinning at him.

“And then you’re going to kill yourself.”

“Can’t exactly prosecute a murder-suicide,” he said with a shrug.

“That’s…”

“Horrible?” Godot took another swig of coffee. “Sounds about right.”

“I can’t let you do that, Godot.”

“Listen. The world is a dark, cruel place. You can’t help but become more bitter than the blackest brew—”

“Shut up!” Both of them jumped at how loud his voice was, but Phoenix shook it off. “I can’t let you do this. You’re not a—” But he is technically a murderer. Don’t you remember Phoenix?

“I’m not a what?” Godot gave him that horrible, awful, insufferable smirk. “Come on. You’ve seen what Redd White is capable of. He’s untouchable by the law.” He patted the drawer. “But no one is untouchable by hell.”

“But he isn’t untouchable,” Phoenix protested. “We can avenge Mia without—without killing anyone. I can avenge Mia without killing anyone!”

“Maybe that’s enough for you,” he said. “But I’ve been waiting too long to let this chance slip away. I want Redd White gone. I want him dead. And I want him to suffer for every. Single. Second that I have suffered.”

“I’m not letting you do that,” Phoenix said as firmly as he could.

“What, don’t tell me you’re willing to defend him.”

“I’m not a prosecutor,” Phoenix said. “You’re not a defense attorney. And guess what, neither of us are Judge, Jury, or Executioner. I hate White. I hate him with every fiber of my being. But I can’t let you do this. I can’t…I can’t help you kill a man.”

“Can’t help me, huh?” He said it quietly. For a moment, Phoenix thought he’d misheard. But then, calmly, Godot pulled open the drawer, and pulled up the pistol.

Phoenix immediately took a few steps back, hands flying up. “Whoa whoa whoa whoa whoa hold on a sec.”

“Hmm?” Godot frowned at him. “What? I’m not going to shoot you.”

“Okay!” he shouted. “Maybe don’t pull a gun on me then!”

“I’m giving you plausible deniability,” Godot said, gun dangling loosely in his hand. “I threaten you with a gun, they can’t prosecute you for aiding and abetting.” He shrugged. “There you go. Guilt free.”

“Guilt fr…?! Godot, I’m not letting you kill a man,” Phoenix said, trying to keep his breathing even. His palms were sweating, and he couldn’t take his eyes off the gleaming metal. “It’s not about not getting in trouble. I don’t give a shit about legality. I just can’t let you go out and shoot a man.”

Godot regripped the gun. “Even a murderer?” he asked. “Even someone who doesn’t deserve it?”

“I can’t let you do this. Do you really think Mia would want you to kill someone for her?!”

“Do you really think I give a damn about what Mia would want?”

It was like a sucker punch to the stomach. “…e-excuse me?”

“Mia is dead,” Godot spat. “Mia’s gone. I’m the one who’s still suffering. Me! Not Mia! Not you!” His voice had started to shake. “I’m the one who’s been trapped in my own personal hell for almost a decade. I’m the one who lost everything. Everything!” He slammed his fist, gun and all, into the cabinet. It almost collapsed in on itself with the force. “This world took everything from me! Why can’t I want someone else to suffer, huh? Why can’t I get my own goddamn closure?”

“Godot—”

“Do you know what it’s like?” Godot was shouting now, knuckles white on the pistol. “What it’s like to wake up and everything you’ve ever love has disappeared? Do you know what it’s like to lose everything?!”

They stared at each other a moment, Godot’s hand trembling. Phoenix just stood perfectly still for a moment. He swallowed, finally letting his arms fall to his sides. “…Yeah, actually. I do.”

Godot barked a laugh. “Oh, do you.”

“No, really,” he said. “I…everyone I’ve ever loved is gone. Everyone. My best friends. My family. The—The man I loved. My own—” His voice cracked. He took a breath, and laughed. “My own daughter doesn’t even know who I am. I-Isn’t that horrible?”

Godot stared at him, stony-faced. Phoenix could feel his own breathing beginning to shake. “But I still love each and every one of them, even if they're gone,” he said. “And I know they’d hate to see me destroy my own life like this. I’m…angry. And yes, I want all this to stop. I’m so…I’m so tired, Mr. Godot. But I’m not throwing away everything my friends would’ve wanted.”

Godot’s grip had loosened on the gun at least. His face remained the same hard, impassible stare. He said nothing. He barely even breathed.

Sighing, Phoenix ran his fingers through his hair. “Jeez. What a mess we’re all in, huh?”

“…what a mess,” Godot agreed in a soft voice.

It was like all the energy had been drained from the room. Godot slumped against the cabinet, gun still in hand. Phoenix leaned his head back.

“…what now?” he asked.

“…I don’t know,” Godot said. He looked down at the gun, turning it in his hand. “…I…really don’t know.”

“Me neither,” Phoenix admitted, almost laughing.

“It’s hard,” Godot muttered. “Wandering the darkness without a light. I wish…” He paused a moment. “…I wish she were here. God I wish she were here.”

“Hah, same here.” He shut his eyes. He half expected to see her materialize next to him, wearing Maya or Pearls’ acolyte robes. She always had a knack for appearing right when he needed her.

And then a thought occurred to him.

“…You know what, Godot? I think I have an idea.”

Chapter Text

The sun had only just begun to crest on the horizon when the train began to rumble down the track toward Kurain Village. The train car was empty, and oppressively silent as the two men sat, staring out different windows. It almost felt like the air had been vacuumed from the compartment.

Phoenix had taken this train many times. Sometimes with Maya, sometimes with Pearl. Sometimes he even brought Trucy. There was always a clear difference between when he brought one of them and when he rode by himself. Alone, he always seemed to lose himself in his own thoughts. With one of the girls, there was always laughter and smiles.

With a man who had threatened him with a gun maybe twelve hours ago, it felt like he was suffocating.

He glanced from the corner of his eye. Godot hadn’t moved since they’d boarded. The thermos in his hand rested loosely on his knees, and his goggles glowed a dull red against the window. He hadn’t said a word when they’d met at the train station, merely giving a grunt.

Phoenix turned back toward his own window. Why am I even doing this? he wondered, letting his forehead drift to the cool glass. I don’t even like Godot that much.

“You’re far too kind for your own good,” Miles’s voice murmured in the back of his mind. A memory from so long ago. “It’s why I fell in love with you. It’s also why I have a blood pressure problem.”

He stifled a sigh. It was true. He did often get caught up in other people’s problems. The moment Phoenix knew someone was in trouble, he had to act on it.

That was why he adopted Trucy. That was why he defended Maya. Hell, that was why he decided to add pre-law to his art degree when he read about Miles in the paper.

Maybe, somehow, he’d find something good at the end of this road too.

“Wright.”

Phoenix jolted up, glancing over. Godot was looking over at him. “Y-Yeah?”

“How much longer?”

“Uh,” Phoenix checked the time, “maybe another hour?”

Godot huffed a bit, leaning back in his seat. “Alright,” he muttered. “I suppose waiting isn’t the worst fate a man can resign himself to.”

Phoenix gave an awkward nod, relaxing into his own seat.

He had explained the premise of his idea to Godot. Go to Mia’s hometown. Speak to her family. Speak to Mia.

“I sure as hell can’t stop you myself. But just do this one thing, and I’ll leave you alone. I don’t care if you don’t believe in this stuff. I don’t care if it doesn’t change your mind. Just do this one last thing, and I’ll leave you alone.”

“You’ve been there before?”

“Hmm?” Godot’s voice interrupted his thoughts again. “What?”

“Mia’s hometown. You seem like you know the place.”

Phoenix nodded. “A long time ago. No one there would know me now.”

There was another pause. This time, Phoenix kept an eye on Godot. He seemed to be thinking, eyes locked on the floor rather than outside. After a moment, Godot continued. “I never could bring myself to go. Not after Mia…” He stopped. Sighed. Leaned back in his seat. “She told me a little about it,” he said. “A long time ago.”

“Did she?”

“Yeah. I didn’t understand the spiritual stuff,” he said. “But hey, anyone is entitled to their religion.” He tapped on this thermos a few times. “Well. She didn’t talk about it often, anyway.”

Phoenix nodded, but Godot wasn’t looking at him. “We only actually dated for a few months,” he continued. His voice was quiet. Even. Controlled. “That was all the time Dahlia Hawthorne allowed me.”

“Oh.” He guessed that made sense, but it hadn’t occurred to him before. “That…I’m sorry.”

“Sometimes, I wonder if I ever really got to know her,” he said. “There’re so many parts of her life that I never even imagined. Yet I…I still have her coffee order memorized.”

He didn’t know how to respond to that one, so he stayed quiet. Godot took a moment to compose himself, before finally unscrewed his thermos. “…what about you? What was your guy’s name?”

Phoenix blinked. “My what?”

“Your…I don’t know. Lover?” He took a gulp. “You lost someone to the oblivion of death. A ‘man you loved’?”

“O-Oh yeah, I did tell you that,” Phoenix said, suddenly incredibly uncomfortable. “It’s…he’s been dead almost as long as Mia.”

“What was he like?”

Was this a joke? But for once, Godot seemed genuinely interested. Phoenix considered it for a moment. “…stubborn,” he said. “High-strung. Irritable. Biggest smartass in the world, though he’d deny it.” He laughed. “One of the smartest people I know…knew…” Another laugh, shakier this time. “He was a good man. Hard to tell under a few layers of prickles, but…he was a good man.” His voice cracked, and he clamped his mouth shut.

Godot looked at him for a while. “…I don’t get you,” he finally said.

“What do you mean?”

“You…you tell me you’re suffering too. You’ve lost everything. Your loved ones. Your friends. Job. Life. But you’re not…suffocating in it like I am.” He leaned back against his seat. “Why do you keep going? What can you possibly hope for? How do you keep going?”

Phoenix stared at him for a moment. He opened his mouth, to say something encouraging. ‘There’s always hope. Life will go on.’ But even as he tried to form the words, his mind began to churn at a dizzying pace.

It’s because this isn’t real.

His stomach clenched. That was true, wasn’t it. That was the difference between himself and Godot. None of this is real. Miles isn’t dead. Maya isn’t dead. Trucy and Apollo and Athena are all still here. You’re not alone in the real world. You’re not really alone. Not like Godot.

So what happens if you’re wrong?

“…uh, Wright?” Godot looked over at him, frowning. Phoenix tried to speak again. Was Godot farther away? Were the walls swaying that hard? Was the floor slipping out from under his feet?

What happens if this IS your real life? What happens if it’s really all gone? What happens if you really are like Godot? What happens then? What happens then? What happens? What happens if they’re gone forever? Why are you alive, Phoenix? What is there to hope for? What if it’s all gone?

“Hey. Wright, are you alright?”

“I…I’m fi…” No he wasn’t fine, he wasn’t fine, he felt like he was going to vomit or faint or implode or

“Wright.” Godot leaned over and grabbed his shoulder. “Hey, Wright.”

“What?”

“Take a breath.”

Phoenix nodded, taking a shaky breath as Godot handed him the thermos. “Dunno if it’ll help you, but the taste usually knocks some sense into me. Count to sixty or something and take a drink.”

Phoenix nodded again, concentrating on steadying his breath as he squeezed the thermos hard enough to probably bend the metal. After maybe a minute, he unscrewed the cap and took a sip. Immediately, the bitterest, blackest, most disgusting coffee he’d ever tasted flooded his senses, and he gagged, coughing violently and pulling the thermos from his mouth. “How on earth can you drink this stuff?” he managed.

Godot laughed. “It’s bitter, it’s dark, and it hurts the senses. This coffee and I are kindred spirits.”

Phoenix nodded, heart still beating painfully in his chest. He sat like that for a few minutes, until the world was swaying at an appropriate level. “I hope that response…answers your question,” he said after a moment. “And gives you hope for the future.”

Godot looked startled before barking a laugh. “Ha. Inspires plenty of confidence,” he said, grinning at him. “Don’t drink too much of that unless you want to go into cardiac arrest.”

Phoenix nodded, handing the thermos back. “…I just keep holding out for something good at the end of all this,” he said.

“…I guess that’s all you can hope for.”

///

New To-Do List

• Talk to Mia and Reevaluate

///

They arrived on foot to the village, as the bus wouldn’t run that way for another hour. Even now, so many years after he’d first found this place, it felt like a village outside of time. More wilderness on all sides than he was used to, and buildings reminiscent of such a distant time and place. Mountains in the distance. An impressively-sized rock.

All it needed was a cheery “Hiya, Nick!” to feel like home. But that wasn’t going to happen.

“It’s quiet here,” Godot said. It was the first thing he’d said since stepping off the train.

“Yeah. The men usually work outside of the village,” Phoenix said, starting down the main path. “And tourism’s been down since DL-6.”

“Mia tell you about this place?” Godot asked, falling into line next to him.

“…More Maya than Mia,” Phoenix admitted, stepping up to the front doors of the manor. “I…think Mia found the Fey family politics exhausting.”

Godot looked curious. “Politics, huh?”

“Good day to you, good sirs.”

Phoenix froze, hand on the doorframe. He’d almost forgotten what her voice sounded like. But some things never really leave you, and the chill of Morgan Fey’s voice was one of them.

Phoenix turned, trying to keep his composure as he faced the woman who hated two of his closest friends. Her hair was grayer, and the lines of her face deeper. She stood straight and tall. Phoenix was surprised to see a long wooden cane gripped in her hands as she studied the two of them. Her face was stern as ever, but there was a polite smile on her face.

Morgan Fey stood calmly before them. “Can I help you, good sirs?”

Phoenix swallowed. “Hi,” he said, hoping he sounded polite. “We’re here for a channeling with the Master of Kurain.”

She looked the two of them over, eyebrows raised. “Is that so?” she asked with a small nod. “Well, you have certainly come to the right place. Please, come in.”

Godot glanced at him, before stepping inside. Phoenix followed suit.

Morgan smiled as they entered. “I must thank you for coming all this way. May I ask your names?”

“…Godot.”

“Phoenix Wright.”

“I see,” she said. “Well. Mr. Godot. Mr. Wright. Welcome to Kurain Village.”

“Thanks,” Phoenix said. The Meditation Room looked the same as it always did too, only empty. The entire place felt like a ghost town. He wondered if there were many mediums left, if they were low on money. What sort of job would a spirit medium get if they needed another job?

Paralegal, I guess, he thought, smiling despite himself.

“Allow me to bring you tea, good sirs,” Morgan said, turning away. “Then we can discuss the channeling.”

“No thanks,” Godot said, holding up his thermos. “I’ve my own brew with me.”

There was a pause, as Morgan stopped walking. She turned, meeting eyes with Godot. “Allow me to bring you tea, good sirs,” she repeated slowly.

Godot’s mouth twitched. “…sounds perfect,” he said. Morgan turned and walked across the room, toward what looked like a tea set.

The two men looked at each other. “She seems…polite,” Godot said, looking more amused than anything.

“That’s one way to put it,” Phoenix muttered. He watched as Morgan began pouring out some tea.

“Still, this seems like a nice place,” Godot said. “Quaint. It’s odd, I can’t imagine Mia growing up in a place like this.”

Abruptly, Morgan stopped pouring. Phoenix could almost feel the temperature drop. He gave a small cough. “…hey, uh, Godot…”

“I guess it explains her lack of computer skills though,” he said, taking a sip of his own coffee. “She was always an old soul. I guess it just seems like a—”

“Good sir.”

That seemed to get Godot’s attention. “Ma’am,” he replied, lifting his cup almost in salute.

“I must ask you, never say that name here again.”

That wasn’t the response Phoenix expected. Godot either, considering the look of confusion on his face.

“Excuse me?” Phoenix asked after a moment, and Morgan finally turned, eyes hard.

“That name. Never speak of her again in these halls.”

“Wh—Why?!” Phoenix asked. “What’s wrong with saying Mia’s—?!”

“It was a tragedy.” Morgan banged her cane on the wooden floor like a gavel, effectively shutting Phoenix up. “A horrible tragedy. One that pains us all to this day.”

Yeah right, Phoenix thought. I’m sure you’re real choked up about it.

“It was a time of suffering, for all of us,” she said, a wave of almost-convincing sadness shadowing her face. “My darling Pearl was heartbroken. None of us need be reminded of that day. Of either of them.” She took a deep breath, as if to regain her composure. “It’s best if we all forget. Both of their names are not to be spoken.” She locked eyes with Phoenix. “Do I make myself clear?”

She wants to erase them? He stared back at Morgan, trying his hardest not to react, not to glare. “…crystal,” he ground out through his teeth.

A momentary look of triumph, and Morgan turned, continuing to pour tea for the three of them. “Thank you for understanding, good sir,” she said. “And please, make yourselves comfortable.”

They drank together for a moment. Or rather, Godot and Morgan drank the tea. Phoenix managed one sip, trying not to audibly gag at the taste.

“This might actually be one of the bitterest things I’ve tasted,” Godot said, looking fascinated.

“Thank you, good sir.”

Phoenix sighed, putting the liquid to his lips and pretending to drink. “You switching to tea now, Godot?”

“Don’t even joke about that,” Godot said. “The blackest tea in the world cannot compare to the majesty of an expertly brewed cup of coffee.”

A momentary look of annoyance crossed Morgan’s face, but she quickly quelled it. “Now, good sirs, let us discuss business,” she said. “You are interested in a channeling?”

Godot looked to Phoenix for confirmation. “Is that right, Wright?”

“Yeah, that’s right.”

“I see.” Morgan nodded, sipping her tea. “What is the name of the person you wish to channel?”

“…uhhhHHhhhhhhHHHhhh…”

Godot snorted. “Yes, Trite, what is the name of the person we wish to channel?” he asked, pouring his own coffee into his cup of tea. Morgan stiffened slightly, trying not to make any sign she saw what Godot was doing.

Phoenix coughed, rubbing at his neck. “That…uh…” He needed Mia right now. He needed Mia a lot. That was the whole purpose of coming here. But Morgan couldn’t know that. He needed a name. He needed a dead person.

Though now that he thought about it, he knew a lot of dead people.

“Miles Edgeworth.”

The name popped out before he could stop it. Godot, already sipping at his new concoction, paused, nose wrinkling. “Miles Edgeworth…?!”

“Yeah,” he said, trying to feign confidence. “Miles Edgeworth, uh, very related to this case. You know. He’d be an…asset…to our…” He tried to think of a way to finish that sentence, but as nothing came to mind, he turned back to Morgan. “Miles Edgeworth,” he repeated. “Died about ten years ago. Suicide. He’s the person we came here to channel with the Master.”

“I see.” She nodded. “Do you have a photo of him perhaps?”

“Yeah, I can probably find one,” he said, pulling out his phone. He could see Godot shaking his head out of the corner of his eyes, looking as disbelieving as ever.

“Good, then we can begin the preparations.”

“So, how does this work?” Godot asked. “Do we go in a dark room and close our eyes while you speak across the veil with your silvery words and crystal ball?”

Another look of annoyance passed over her face, before she composed herself. “Sadly, I am not the Master, Good Sir,” she said, turning to address Phoenix rather than Godot. “My spiritual powers are weak compared to many of my bloodline. The Master, my precious daughter Pearl, will be performing the channeling. I will bring her in to start the preparations, if that is alright.”

“O-Oh, right. Sure.” Phoenix felt his stomach clench, as Morgan turned toward the winding way. Pearls. The Master of Kurain. Half of him wanted nothing more than to see her. The other half wanted nothing less.

“Pearl, my dear, we have guests.”

“Yes, mother.”

And after just a moment, Morgan and Pearl Fey stepped back into the room.

When Phoenix had first seen Pearl, she reminded him of a porcelain doll. Small, cute, but expressionless. Like something to keep behind glass, or on the top row of a bookshelf. Pretty, but distant. That illusion had shattered the moment she smiled and called him Mr. Nick. That was Pearls. Smiling, happy, energetic little Pearls.

Pearl Fey stepped into the meditation room, and Phoenix remembered that first moment he saw her. He remembered the untouchable girl behind the glass. Because there she was.

Her hair was much the same, though symmetrical now. Two beads instead of one. Her garments were adorned in much the same way that Maya’s were, more purples than pinks, and the white shawl covering her shoulders. She was thin and pale, and her eyes seemed to look through him. Face blank. Porcelain.

“Good day to you,” she said in a soft monotone. “You are here for a channeling, is that right good sirs?”

…oh…

He’d forgotten, for a moment. He’d forgotten how much it hurt. To have someone he thinks of as his daughter to stare at him without a hint of recognition in their eyes. To hear those words from her mouth. He swallowed around the lump of his throat.

“Yeah, that’s right,” he said. “We’re here for a channeling.”

Chapter Text

Phoenix had never had a real channeling before.

Well no, he’d had a real channeling. He’d had hundreds of real channelings. He couldn’t even count how many times Mia had bailed him out in his everyday life, showing up in someone else’s clothes to tell him to turn over a receipt.

But he hadn’t had a channeling with all the works. With the darkened room, and the fire-hazard candles, and Pearl locking the thick wooden doors behind them with the large iron key. He’d never had an Officially Sanctioned Kurain Channeling™, not in the decade of knowing the Feys.

Much of the process was new to Phoenix. And plenty of it felt unnecessary. Why do we need to meditate? he thought as Pearl guided the two of them. Why do we have to sit like this? I haven’t had to do it before.

But, seeing as Godot wasn’t really participating, one of them had to. Godot hung near the back of the room, half listening to instructions. But it was clear he didn’t buy into a word of what Pearl was telling them.

When did Godot start believing in channeling in the first place? Phoenix wondered. He certainly believed by the time Morgan and Dahlia tried to kill Maya.

Maybe it was when Mia appeared at your side to call Godot an idiot and win the case for you, came Phoenix’s voice of reason, which always sounded to him a bit like a harsher combination of Miles and Apollo. But yeah, thinking on it, Godot wouldn’t have gotten hard proof about channeling without Mia showing up in the middle of the Mask*DeMasque trial.

It was hard to keep track of the things he’d done by accident.

“Now then, if you are ready, we shall begin the channeling.”

“Uh, almost,” Phoenix said, watching as Pearl folded her little legs beneath her. Her facial expression had yet to change, eyes somewhat unfocused. And it wasn’t like Trucy, who had been hiding emotion out of caution. This looked more like an absence of emotion. Like all of the color had been drained away. She wasn’t doing it because she didn’t trust these two strangers, she just didn’t have anything to begin with.

“So Mr. Wright.”

“Hmm?” Phoenix glanced over at Godot, who was sitting at an angle beside him. “What?”

“Can I ask what the hell we’re doing right now?”

“Good sir, you must not swear in the Channeling Chamber,” Pearl said, with absolutely no heat.

“Sorry,” he said. “But in the first place, I have no interest in listening to little Pearl here commune with the dead. And secondly, oddly enough, dragging Mr. Demon Prosecutor himself from the depths of hell seems less pleasant than drinking the coffee they serve at the courthouse.”

“Good sir, you must refer to me as Mystic Pearl.”

Godot ignored her, focusing on Phoenix. “Mr. Wright,” he said. “You talked me into this. If you could make it worth my time, I’d appreciate it.”

“Right. Right…” Phoenix swallowed, trying to get his bearings. “Pearl—Mystic Pearl,” he corrected. “We, uh…we want to contact Mia Fey.”

Pearl blinked, and for the first time, her eyes focused on Phoenix’s. “…what did you say?”

“Mia Fey,” he repeated. “We need to speak to her. Can you…do that?”

“You…” Pearl’s eyes flickered from Phoenix to Godot. “You want to speak to Mystic Mia,” she repeated uncertainly.

“Yeah.” He shifted under her stern gaze. “I know it’s not technically allowed—”

“Channeling Mystic Mia is forbidden,” Pearl said.

“I-I know, but we really need to speak to her. It’s important.”

Pearl shook her head. “Good sir—” Stop calling me that stop calling me that stop calling me that “—I can’t summon Mystic Mia. It’s forbidden.”

“By who?” he asked. “Your mom? I thought you were the Master, not her.”

“Well that—” She froze. For a moment, a look of shock crossed her face, as if that had never crossed her mind. “W…Well…” Her hands began fidgeting slightly. “Even so, I’m…I’m still very young for a Master,” she said. “I’m still learning. So my mother makes many decisions for the Fey clan. We wouldn’t be where we were today if not for her guidance.”

I’m sure, Phoenix thought. “But still, she’s not the Master,” he continued. “You’re, how old, eighteen? Maybe you’re not equipped to make all the decisions, but that doesn’t mean you can’t make any of them.”

“I…hmm…” And Pearl bit her thumb, eyebrows knitted. Phoenix could almost cry at how familiar the gesture was. “Well, I guess that’s true,” she mused.

Phoenix smiled in relief. “That’s good.”

“Then I’ll decide on my own not to channel Mystic Mia.”

Well darn. “Why not?” he asked, face falling.

“Mystic Mia and…Mystic Maya are gone,” Pearl said. “And I don’t want to disrespect Mystic Mia by pulling her back to this world again. My mother settled it all ten years ago. I’m…” She paused, and took a breath. “I’m tired of trying to understand it. So I trust my mother’s judgement. Mystic Mia and Mystic Maya should not be channeled.”

Phoenix watched as Pearl blinked a few times, trying to prevent any tears from escaping. Pearl had lost so much here. She’d lost Maya, and Mia. And with them, she’d likely lost the last semblance of a normal childhood.

“I think I understand what you mean.”

Phoenix’s head snapped toward Godot, who’d moved closer sometime during that conversation. He’d been so quiet, Phoenix had almost forgotten he was there.

Pearl, too, seemed surprised, though she composed herself quickly. “What do you mean, good sir?”

“The cold hand of fate doesn’t care about who gets left behind to pick up the pieces of a shattered life,” he said. “You wake up one day, and it’s turned to dust in your hands, and all you can think of is ‘How did this happen? How did I miss it? How did it all slip away?’”

I don’t know if Pearls is going through quite the same thing, Phoenix thought, though he kept that to himself. Pearl herself seemed enraptured, so it seemed like a step in the right direction.

“…can I ask why you want to channel Mystic Mia?” Pearl said softly after a moment.

“…well…” Godot suddenly seemed hesitant, as if just remembering that he wasn’t actually here by choice. He looked toward Phoenix, with a look that said, ‘Why am I here, Trite?’

“Well, we have to talk to her,” he said. “Because, uh…” Well, to talk Godot out of murder-suicide, but he couldn’t exactly lead with that with a kid. They needed Mia because she was the only person who Godot cared about. But why would Pearl care about that?

Maybe he just needed to come at this from another angle. It wasn’t about why they needed Mia, it was about what Pearl would respond to. They needed Mia because…

“…because this man here was Mia’s ‘Special Someone’.”

Immediately, Godot’s face morphed into something akin to drinking from his coffee mug and discovering water used to clean a paintbrush. “Excuse me—?!”

“Mystic Mia’s Special Someone?!” Maybe Godot’s face was one of shock and distaste, but Pearl’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. She’d perked up immediately, eyes wide in shock, wonder, and excitement. “Mystic Mia had a Special Someone?” She asked breathlessly. “You were Mystic Mia’s Special Someone?”

For the first time in Phoenix’s memory, Godot looked genuinely uncomfortable. “…is this code for something?”

“Were you in love with Mystic Mia? Were you living together? Were you going to get married?” Pearl wasn’t even bothering to sit properly, hands on her knees and leaning in toward Godot. “I didn’t know Mystic Mia had fallen in love!” Then her face fell. Her shoulders slumped. Realization, Phoenix guessed, of what that really meant for the man in front of her. “…I-I didn’t know Mystic Mia had fallen in love,” she repeated. “…I’m…I’m sorry, good sir…”

Godot just frowned at the girl, mouth a hard line. Phoenix winced a little bit. Maybe that was not the right angle to come at this with. But then, Godot sighed. “…Mia…always reminded me of the sun,” he said. “She was warmth, and confidence. Compassion and kindness. Smartest girl I ever met. She could illuminate a room with a smile. Though I guess the brightest objects draw the darkest shadows…” A pause, and a shrug. “Yeah, I guess you could say I was in love with her.”

Pearl seemed distressed. “I’m really sorry, good sir, that was incredibly rude of me…”

“It’s fine,” Godot said, giving that wry smile. “It’s…not like that wound has ever really closed anyway. So no damage done.”

Pearl sat back, biting her thumb again. “…so you want to talk to Mystic Mia because you were in love with her,” she said.

Godot sighed. “I’ll be honest, I don’t know what I’m doing here.” He gave Phoenix a pointed look.

Phoenix shrank back a bit. “This is supposed to be a healing journey,” he mumbled.

“Sure,” Godot said. “It’s…something, I’ll give you that, Trite.” He took a sip of coffee. “…and I…appreciate whatever the hell this is supposed to be.”

“Yeah, well…” Phoenix shrugged. “I mean, I’m not just doing this for you.”

“Ha. Fair.” He sighed, straightening his back. “Well, as healing as this adventure has been, I feel like maybe we’ve already overstayed our welcome.”

“Oh, you’re leaving already?”

…that wasn’t Pearl’s voice.

For a moment, neither of them moved. They turned slowly, not even daring to breathe. Mia Fey, wearing Pearl’s white and purple robes, smiled back at them. “That’s a shame. I didn’t even get the chance to say hello,” she said.

Phoenix opened and closed his mouth, trying to make any sort of noise. But Godot beat him to the punch.

“…M…Mia?”

Her smile grew. “Diego,” she said, nodding back.

“Mia…” Godot stared at her. Phoenix swore he could see a faint trail of smoke rising from his mask. “…Mia, how…” He reached a hand out. “…how is…” Fingers trembling, he leaned in and brushed her face. “How is this…?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hey—” Phoenix quickly jumped forward and pulled Godot’s arm back. “She is still technically a teenager. Ghost possession does not equal consent.”

Godot just gaped at him, then at Mia, then at Phoenix again. “I don’t…understand,” he said. “What is this? How is…?” He looked over, waving at arm at Mia, who looked sympathetic.

“Hmm, I probably shouldn’t have scared him like that,” she said toward Phoenix. “But I wasn’t expecting to be channeled so suddenly. And I certainly didn’t expect to see Diego here.”

Godot stared at her. Then he reached out again, lightly brushing her face before she pulled back slightly, laughing a bit.

“You really aren’t supposed to touch someone during a channeling.”

“You’re here,” he said, hand hanging in the air in front of him.

“Somewhat,” she replied. “I’m possessing a spirit medium.”

“But you’re here,” he said. “You’re here, and talking to me.”

She smiled, hesitated a moment, then reached out and took his hand. “I’m here,” she said. “And I feel like we have a lot to talk about.”

///

New To-Do List

• Talk to Mia and Reevaluate

///

They talked for a long time, Godot and Mia. They talked and talked. They talked about coffee. They talked about Grossberg. They talked about what seemed like anything they could think of.

Phoenix watched as they talked. Godot kept occasionally reaching out and just placing fingers on Mia’s arm for a few moments, making sure she was really there. Every time, Mia would smile a bit, reprimand him without any heat.

He felt out of place. Like an intruder, looking into the window. Like he was invading a private, intimate moment. But neither Mia or Godot paid him any mind.

“I’ve spent so long wondering what I’d say to you if I had one more chance,” Godot said. “And now I can’t think of anything.”

“Diego…”

“I’m…sorry I wasn’t there to protect you,” he said, quieter now. He’d grabbed her hand. “I’m sorry I failed you so spectacularly.”

“You’re apologizing for a lot of things you had no control over,” Mia said, cocking her head. “And I don’t think I’m the one who needs to forgive you.”

Godot’s hand tightened around Mia’s. And then he turned toward Phoenix. “Hey, Mr. Wright, what are the rules for hugging her?”

“What?”

“I’m not supposed to touch her,” he said. “Can I just give her a hug? Something?”

“I…I’m not exactly the expert here—”

But Godot had already turned and pulled Mia into a tight embrace. “God, I’ve missed you so much, Kitten.”

Phoenix gagged. “Kitten?!”

Godot ignored him, but Mia laughed, gently pushing Godot back as she glanced toward Phoenix. “Oh please, like you have any right to judge, ‘Feenie’.”

Phoenix laughed. Mia did too. And then, it occurred to both of them what she’d just said.

“…wait…”

“Did you just…?”

They both sat there in a stunned silence. Then Phoenix shuffled forward, shoving Godot aside. (“Hey!”) He could feel his heart in his throat. “Mia?”

“Do I…?” Mia looked confused now, looking Phoenix over. “…Do I know you?”

Phoenix was shaking. “Do you?” he asked breathlessly. “Mia, do you remember me?”

“I…” Her eyebrows were knitted. “It’s like…waking up from a very vivid dream. You don’t remember the details, but…” She frowned up at him. “…Phoenix, why do I know your name?”

He didn’t realize he was crying until the tears had started dripping down his face. “I don’t know,” he said, grinning at her. “But I’m really glad you do.”

She looked surprised for a moment. But then her face turned to another smile. “I don’t know why, but me too.”

Chapter Text

“It’s been quite a few years,” Mia said as she wrote on Phoenix’s sheet. “I’m surprised I even remember this much.”

“Anything you can remember,” he said. “You had a list of names that made White confess on the spot. That coupled with everything we’ve got should be enough to actually do something to him.”

Mia nodded. “He was desperate enough to kill me for it,” she said, crossing her last T’s and handing it back to Phoenix. “Don’t underestimate him the way I did.”

"Right. I think i'll be okay."

"And Phoenix." Phoenix paused, and Mia met his gaze, eyes hard. "It's going to be hard to corner him. And Diego is right, it's going to be hard to get him into court."

"…so what exactly am I supposed to do?"

She sighed softly. "Well. It won't be easy," she said, folding her arms. "But if he confessed once, he could do it again. All you need to do is force his hand."

"Right. Okay. Force his hand."

"Well, Phoenix, you're clever," she said. "I…don't know why I know it, but if anyone can figure something out, it's you." She reached out and grabbed his shoulder. "Just promise me you won't be joining me in the afterlife any time soon."

“No worries, Chief, I’ll be careful.”

She smiled at the word Chief, before continuing. “These are all high-profile cases he was involved in,” she said, turning back toward the paper. “Everything from suicides to embezzling schemes. If there was a powerful secret involved, Redd White found a way to insert himself. If it came to light how he was involved in some of these, everyone from foreign governments to the local mafia would be forced to react.” She smiled and crossed her arms, admiring her handiwork. “And hopefully, that retribution is worse than jail time for a ten-year-old murder.”

“Here’s hoping,” Phoenix said, folding the note and tucking it into his pocket.

Mia glanced between the two of them, face turning serious again. “Back him into a corner,” she repeated. “If anyone can do it, it’ll be you two.”

“Yeah!” Phoenix was sure he was almost glowing with pride. He grinned, glancing at Godot. But Godot wasn’t looking at him. His face was downturned. He hadn’t said much after Phoenix and Mia had started to talk business. Or since Phoenix and Mia had started to talk, come to think of it.

Mia seemed to notice this too. “Diego?” When he didn’t respond, she leaned in and put a hand on his shoulder. “Diego. I…” She stopped a moment, weighing her words in her mind. “I really do believe in you.”

Godot snorted. “You were always much better at believing in people than I was,” he said. “It came naturally to you.”

“I know you can do this,” she said. “I know you and Phoenix can finish what I started. But more than that…” She leaned closer to him. “Diego, you can move on from this.”

Godot’s head snapped up. “What?”

“Diego, Redd White took my mother from me. He took my life. He took my little sister. He’s taken away so many things I’ve loved.” Her eyes burned fiercely. “Please. Promise me. Don’t let him take you too.”

Godot didn’t respond. Mia slowly let go of his shoulders. “I can’t stay here, Diego” she said softly, stepping back. “I’m a spirit. I need to let the world go on without me. And you do too.” She shut her eyes for a moment. “Just don’t forget what I said.”

“I couldn’t if I tried,” was all he said back.

One more smile. And then, suddenly, Pearl blinked up at them, looking a bit disoriented. “…You’re not supposed to walk around during a channeling, good sirs,” she said, frowning.

Phoenix gave her an exhausted smile. “I guess we’ve all broken a few rules today.”

///

“You remind me a bit of her.”

Phoenix glanced up at Godot, feeling the rumble of the train start up under him. “Who? Mia?”

Godot rubbed his face a bit. He looked more exhausted than Phoenix felt. “She always stuck to her convictions,” he said. “And she trusted that people were good. A little idealistic, but what good lawyer isn’t?”

Phoenix sighed, and gave him a tired smile. “Thanks. I always looked up to her. I’m glad she rubbed off on me a bit.”

“Speaking of which, who the hell are you?”

Phoenix’s smile disappeared immediately. “Huh?”

“Mia didn’t know you,” he said. “I mean, she almost did, but she didn’t. You kept talking about things that never really happened. You'd made out like you and Mia were good friends.” Godot raised his thermos to his lips, before realizing it was empty and tossing it onto another seat. “Was that all smoke and mirrors? Are you even real? I’m starting to wonder if I ever actually woke up.”

“I…don’t know if you’d believe the whole story,” Phoenix said.

“My girlfriend just apparated in front of me in the body of a teenage girl. You could tell me almost anything at this point and I’d be hard pressed not to believe you.” Godot folded his arms. “Are you a ghost too? Some sort of guardian angel? A telepath? Time traveler?”

Phoenix hesitated. As much as he’d like to get this all off his chest, he couldn’t help but remember that this man had waved a gun in his face a day before.

“I’m not entirely sure anymore,” he decided to say. “No one else seems to know who I am anyway.”

But Mia did. At least partially. Why did Mia remember him and no one else? What did that mean? God his head was spinning in circles.

“Hmm.” Godot shrugged. “Well, I was more curious than anything. Keep whatever secrets you like. I think you already know most of mine.”

He half expected Psyche-Locks, but the world remained in color. “…what are you going to do about White?” he asked.

Godot faced the front of the train, face calm. “I guess that’s going to depend on you, Mr. Wright.”

Phoenix frowned. “Me?”

“You’re the one who’s going to be putting him behind bars, aren’t you?”

It was like bricks falling away from his shoulders. “Y-Yeah?”

“Don’t get me wrong,” Godot said. “I’d rather see him dead. I’d rather both of us sink into oblivion.” He looked over. “And if you can’t put him away, I won’t hesitate to take more drastic measures.”

“O-Oh…”

“But you seem like a reasonable Plan A,” he finished, smirking at the concern on Phoenix’s face. “Shouldn’t become a problem, should it?”

“I-I guess not,” Phoenix mumbled. He leaned back in his seat, feeling the train continue to rumble. “…What will you do once we put White away?”

Once again, he waited for the grinding of chains. But Godot just groaned a bit. “You don’t know when to quit, do you,” he muttered. Then, “…I don’t know. I guess I’ll just need to figure it out along the way. No chance you know any cheap therapists, do you?”

“Why would—?” And then he remembered his favorite ball of sunshine and psychoanalysis. “Oh jeez, I actually kind of do…”

Godot snorted. “Well. I’ll keep that in mind.” He grinned at him. “But first thing is first.”

Phoenix nodded. “Yeah,” he said, pulling out Mia’s note. “First thing’s first…”

Godot looked over at the paper. “Not that I don’t trust you, but you can't really just walk into court and expect him to show up. Do you think you have enough to take him down?”

He read the names again. Mia’s magnum opus. And slowly, a plan started forming in his head. “You know, I think I might.”

///

“Greetings and salutationings! Please, could you perchance furnish me with the title of your personage?”

It was like stepping into a memory. He was twenty-four years old again. He was alone. No Mia. No Maya. All he had was the broken pieces of his old life and an unreasonable amount of stubbornness.

And Red White, standing up from his large, comfortable swivel chair, smiled at him. “Please, seat yourself, make yourself comfortable. Would you care for some form of refreshment?”

“Uh, no thanks.” The chair on his side of the gaudy mahogany desk was simpler in design, and more noticeably, lower to the ground. It reminded him of a scene from an old black-and-white movie he watched as a child every Christmas. Sitting low to make you feel small. He’d rather not be looked down on. Not now.

Maybe Redd White noticed, but he continued to stand as well. He smiled with all the sparkles and glamour he could. “Well? I was told by my secretariat that a gentleman had arrived who just had to commune with me. Come, come, I am a busy man. Who are you, and what counsel, what exhortation have you brought before me?”

Now or never, Phoenix. He took a breath, adjusting his beanie. “I have…information for you," he said, voice even. "You’re looking for blackmail on powerful figures, right? Well I have some blackmail you’ll be dying to hear.”

White perked up. “Exceptionary!” he said, eyes glinting. “It must have been something quite authentic to get you past my secretary Miss May.”

You have no idea. “You could say that,” he said, trying to fight back his smirk. “It’s a very powerful secret. One that I’m sure would be disastrous if it was leaked worldwide.”

“You seem to talk quite a large game, so to say,” White said, clapping his hands together. “Well? Don’t leave me in the dark, Mr…?”

“Wright. Phoenix Wright.” Phoenix finally allowed a grin, and leaned in closer. “And I know who really killed Mia Fey.”

It was only momentary, but it was unmistakable. Shock. “…I’m…sorry?” he said. “I must apologize, my auricular senses must be failing me. Someone killed who now?”

“Mia Fey,” Phoenix said. “She was a defense attorney, way back in the day. I’m sure you remember her. Real stubborn kind of girl. A real idealist. Real nosy. You know the kind.”

“I’ve met many attorneys in my day,” White said, smile sharper now. “I can’t be expected to remember every starry-eyed strumpet that strides through my subsidiaries. Now if this is all you’ve brought to the table—”

“Oh, no, of course not,” Phoenix interrupted. “You really think your secretary would’ve let me through with just that? No, that’s just the beginning, Mr. White.” And he calmly pulled Mia’s note from his jacket pocket. “This is where the real story starts.”

White’s grin had faded into a bemused smile as he grabbed the paper. “And what might this…?” And then even the smile was gone. “…What is this?”

And here we go. Don’t back down Phoenix. “I think it’s what we in the business like to call blackmail.”

“Blackmail,” Redd White repeated, dumbfounded.

“I think you’re familiar with the concept,” Phoenix said. “I know a lot about you and your business, Mr. White. And you’ve pissed off a lot of people.”

Redd White stared at Phoenix for a long moment, Mia’s writing still grasped tightly in his hand. And then, he broke out into a laugh. “Amazing!” He shouted. “Stupenderific! Someone trying to turn the tables. I never thought I’d see the day that someone so absolutely ignorant would wander into my halls.” He laughed again, before taking a moment to compose himself, grabbing the edge of his desk. “Mr. Wrong, was it?”

“Wright,” Phoenix corrected.

“Mr. Wrong,” White repeated, smiling again, though his eyes flashed with a barely hidden rage. “Surely you are cogniferant of my position here.”

“Yeah,” Phoenix said. “You’re the CEO of Bluecorp.”

“No, no, no no no, I am not simply the CEO of this magnificient corporation,” he shot back. “I am far, far more than that.” He spread his arms, rings and suit catching the light like a thousand flashing cameras. “I am the CEO of everything under the sun. I control the media. I control the police. I control the courts. All I need to do is wave an appendage like so and ‘poof’. It all dissipates like smoke.”

Don’t back down yet, he told himself. You’ve almost got him. “But Mia didn’t disappear so easily,” Phoenix replied. “What she had on you was devastating.”

“Ah, but Miss Mia did disappear in the end, did she not?” White replied. “Merely a blip on my radar, nothing more.”

“You had to silence her because what she had could destroy you,” Phoenix said. “She was close to destroying everything you built, so you killed her yourself.”

Redd White shook his head in disbelief. “Now Mr. Wrong. If that is all true, what, pray tell, makes you think I won’t simply liqudiate you as well?” And then he reached under his desk and pulled up a small, gold, fist-sized revolver. Phoenix felt his heart stop, for just a moment. “What is preventing me from splattering your brains across the floor like I did to poor Miss Mia?”

Phoenix looked down at the gun. “…are you threatening me, Mr. White?” he asked.

“Good lord, are you an ingrate?” White waved the gun at him. “Of course I’m threatening you!”

Phoenix stared. And then he broke into a smile. “Then this is going way better than I thought it would!”

“…pardon?”

“Wait, can you wave the gun again?” Phoenix leaned his head forward, adjusting his beanie. “One more time. I dunno if the camera got a good enough look at it.”

And White froze. “……the what?”

“The camera!” Phoenix said, grabbing and aiming the lens at White’s face. “The one that’s been recording this whole conversation.” He turned it down, aiming toward his own face. “You got all that right? Right. Great.”

White stared at him. Then to the hat. Then back to Phoenix. Phoenix grinned back at him, readjusting. “You’re not going to shoot me on camera, are you Mr. White?” Checkmate, you smug bastard.

Then slowly, a horrible, twisted grin spread across White’s face. Phoenix felt his own slowly fall away as the gun slowly pointed toward his chest.

“I have one more query for you, Mr. Wrong.”

Phoenix felt his stomach sink to his feet. “…Y-Yeah?”

“Do you really think…that I allow transmissions out of my own fucking office?”

“………oh.”

And the gun went off.

Chapter Text

Several things happened at once. Redd White pulled the trigger. Phoenix threw himself at the door behind him. And the door swung outward, revealing a large man in a KB Security uniform.

“Sir you called for—”

BANG

Fire shot through Phoenix’s arm. He yelped, but he was already past the startled security officer and down the hall by the time Redd White’s voice screamed “CATCH THAT MAN YOU IGNOMINIUM!”

Shit shit shit shit shit

Phoenix sprinted faster than he’d ever sprinted before. His legs pumped on their own. The world blurred around him. There was shouting from all directions. Movement. People. No time to see if they were security. Which way was the elevator? No, which way were the stairs?

He stumbled past a map on the wall, then booked it toward a nearby door. As it slammed open, his whole arm screamed in protest. No time to check how his arm was, just keep running.

He took the stairs two at a time, three at a time, five at a time, grabbing the railing with his good arm and practically gliding down the stairway. How many stories up was he? Ten? Fifteen? How long until they cut him off? Holy shit, he was going to die here, wasn’t he?

His camera recorded to a chip. If he could get it out of the building, he’d have leverage. As long as the video could send, he had his blackmail. But now he needed to get it outside.

Godot had told him his plan was risky. But threatening him like that had worked for Mia the first time. Why hadn’t it worked now?

No, he knew why. Mia had confronted him in public. In a courtroom. With witnesses. Phoenix had walked into his office like an idiot. Dur hur, hi Mr. White, you better do what I say! I’m Phoenix Wright and I’m real smart!

There was a sharp pain in his side. He grimaced, and slammed into the wall between stories, breathing through his nose as his knees shook underneath him.

The numbness in his legs left them feeling like jelly, and he could feel blood starting to drip down his elbow. He glanced at his arm. It looked like the bullet had grazed him rather than lodged itself anywhere. Thank god for that. He really didn’t want to turn into another von Karma.

He took a few gulps of air, trying to even his breath. He wasn’t going to outrun a building full of security. He knew that. And a building full of security wasn’t going to let him walk out the front door. He couldn’t blend in and hide, with his arm bleeding and his stupid, stupid had sitting atop his head.

He pulled up his phone. No service here. Why was he not surprised? Of course someone dealing in information would be wary of outgoing communication.

Think, Phoenix. You’re not a strong guy. You have to play smart, not hard. How do you weasel your way out of this?

The door a few flights up opened. That was his cue to move along. He stumbled down the remainder of the flight and into a new hallway.

He wasn’t sure where he was, but he could see a nicely decorated office just in front of him. Fancy wooden sculptures sat in well-lit alcoves. A large table sat behind a glass-paneled wall. He walked over and pushed, but there seemed to be a keycard for opening it.

That was fine. He didn’t need to get in an office. He still had one more idea, and all he needed for that was a window.

He looked over the map mounted near the stairwell, then started down the hallway. He wondered if the building was on lockdown or something, considering how silent it was. No one passed him as he walked over to the bathroom and turned the handle.

Or tried to turn the handle.

Shit, even the bathrooms lock?! He tried again, but no, mounted on the wall next to it was a locking device. He tried again, trying to force it open. Come on! Please! Please!! He screwed his eyes shut. He could hear voices from near the stairwell. PLEASE!!

Then the door beside him swung out. He froze like a deer in headlights. The woman stepping out of the other bathroom glanced at him for a moment, looking confused, before turning and walking the opposite direction. Quickly, Phoenix stuck out his foot and caught the door. Then he ducked inside.

It was a small bathroom. Well-lit and clean. Rows of stalls, rows of nice marble sinks. And on one wall was a window, mounted high above the paper towel dispenser.

It only took a moment. He climbed onto the sink, grabbed the latch on the window, and popped it open. He peaked his head through, looking down. He couldn't see the front entrance, and he couldn't see any sign of a red visor. But that was fine. He didn't need the plan to work. He just needed it to be possible.

Glancing around and taking a deep breath, he pulled the hat from his head and dropped it through the window.

His hair was a sweaty mess. It must’ve been sticking out in a million places, a thousand times more disheveled than his usual styled spikes. But he felt ten times lighter.

Now it’s time to get out of this situation like I get out of every other situation.

It’s time to bluff my ass off.

///

“Welcome back, Mr. Wrong.”

Redd White spun dramatically in his seat, smiling and glittering like an angler fish ready to feed. He’d regained his composure it seemed, once again all smiles.

Phoenix, sandwiched between two large security thugs, gave him an exhausted smile. “Glad to be back,” he quipped.

“Ha!” White clasped his hands together, rings clinking. “What a charmer. Now, if you boys could relinquish his millinery and then disaperate from my presence, I would be most appreciatory.”

A pause. “…what was that, sir?” asked one of the thugs.

White rolled his eyes. “Do my loquations confuse? The hat, man, give me the hat!”

“We, uh…” The two grabbing Phoenix’s arms exchanged looks. “We didn’t find his hat, Mr. White.”

White’s smile vanished. “What?”

“W-We looked, but there wasn’t a hat on him, a-and it—”

“Did I not specifically erudiate to you,” White said, standing to his feet, “that I needed his goddamn hat?”

“W-We tried, sir, but it—”

“You! Wrong!” He pointed a finger at Phoenix’s face. “Where did you hide that hat?”

“It’s gone,” Phoenix said with a shrug. His heart was pounding, but he couldn’t let it show. He gave a smile, hoping it looked more confident than terrified. “I tossed it out the window.”

White turned. “You! Go get that hat and—”

“Well, it’s not going to be there anymore,” Phoenix said, rolling his eyes. “I had a friend waiting outside.”

White’s face turned to shock. “Y…Y-You…”

“Maybe he caught it on the way down,” Phoenix said, heart trying to escape out his throat. Don’t laugh. Don’t twitch your hands. Don’t give it up. Poker face, Phoenix. “And if that’s the case, even if the entire block around your building was transmission-proof, that video would long gone.”

White stared at him for a long moment, and Phoenix was relieved to finally see some genuine fear there. “Wh…Where…No one is going to believe some doctored videography by some no-name—”

“We still have everything else Mia found,” he interrupted. “We still have all the names. We still have all the people you drove to suicide, and all the people you have under your thumb. And now we have a nice confession on camera.” Don’t react, Phoenix. Poker face. “And if I’m not back in three hours, what do you think my friends will do with all that info?”

White’s face finally seemed to match his name. His eyes looked like they’d pop out of their sockets any moment now. Phoenix could feel his own hands shaking. He could feel the sweat beading on his face and neck. But he stared back into those wild eyes and for once, he felt confident.

No one moved. No one breathed. And finally, Redd White slumped back in his seat, shell-shocked. “I…do not feel so well,” he mumbled.

Phoenix felt his heart-rate pick up. “Can you ask these guys to let go of me?”

White looked toward him. Then with a sigh, he waved a glittering hand. “Let go of the man, then.”

The two exchanged startled glances again, before awkwardly letting go and stepping back. Phoenix stood up straight. His knees were going to give out any moment, but he stood tall. “All I want is a confession,” he said. “Tell everyone you killed Mia. Tell everyone you framed Maya. And all the rest will disappear.”

“Get out of my sight,” White said. “Get out of my office.”

He turned, almost in a trance. Then, as an afterthought: “You have twenty-four hours, Mr. White.”

“GET. OUT.”

///

His hat, of course, hadn’t been grabbed by Godot. Godot hadn’t sent the video to anyone. His hat didn’t even have the capability of transmitting the videos it recorded. The hat had simply landed in a dead bush, growing in the fancy little courtyard outside of the building.

Godot watched as Phoenix fished it out, mouth a hard line. “You're lucky you got out when you did. I was this close to simply breaking in there myself to check on you," he said, fiddling with something in his pocket. "So your horseshit plan worked, then?”

“I guess we’ll know in twenty-four hours,” Phoenix said, folding the beanie and shoving it into his pants pocket.

Godot shook his head. “Maybe I am hallucinating all this,” he mumbled. “If this works, Mr. Wright, I think I’ll owe you more than my life will ever be worth.” He patted Phoenix on the shoulder. “Now let’s get out of here, before people start to ask why you’re bleeding.”

///

It was all over the news, almost twenty-four hours later. Redd White confesses to a decade-old murder. Redd White admits to framing a seventeen-year-old girl. Redd White willing to make some sort of bargain with the prosecution: secrets in exchange for removal of the death penalty.

All of this, and Phoenix slept through it all. He didn’t even stir, passed out in the back offices of Godot’s shop. But for the first time in a very, very long time, Phoenix slept soundly.

Chapter Text

In the days that followed Redd White’s arrest, Phoenix Wright laid low.

Godot had managed to bandage his arm with an old first aid kit he found. Fortunately, the cut wasn't deep, and as long as he didn't try to do any heavy lifting any time soon, he'd probably be okay.

Godot had also let Phoenix sleep on the floor in the back office, since the Kurain train tickets and subsequent channeling had all but depleted Phoenix’s funds.

“If all you need is a roof over your head, you’re welcome to stay here whenever the hell you need,” Godot told him. “As long as you find your own mattress.”

Everything had been quiet in those couple of days. He almost felt numb. In a haze, Phoenix followed the news on his phone, for once watching a courtroom drama unfold from a safe distance away. It all seemed so unreal. Had he really done all that? Had he really gotten a confession?

(Did it matter at all? He decided not to dwell on that.)

A prosecutor and a team of defense attorneys that Phoenix had never heard of spoke on the news, talking backwards and forwards about the case, no one able to make heads or tails of White’s sudden confession. There were theories, of course. Discussions on what this meant for the law, for Bluecorp, for the stock market. Musings on Maya and Mia Fey, and who they were to White. They’d tried to interview the family, but it seemed no one in Kurain Village was willing to speak on the matter.

As he watched the lawyers argue on his phone screen, he couldn’t help but think about the state of the law. Phoenix’s disbarment and Blackquill’s arrest had kicked off a dark age. Phoenix’s cleared name, Blackquill’s freedom, and most importantly, Miles Edgeworth’s dedication to cleaning out corruption in the prosecutors’ offices had paved the way for a new future.

Without that, who was left, either in the prosecution or defense? They had Manfred and Franziska von Karma, and while Franziska always skirted the edge of what Phoenix would call the ‘Well It’s Not Technically Illegal’ school of practice, Manfred was the one who fabricated hard evidence and Tasered people. There were the Payne’s, too, though neither were exactly shining examples of competency or decency.

Edgeworth was dead, Blackquill was dead, and Gavin hadn’t made his return to court without Kristoph’s arrest. Even trying to remember any of the names of prosecutors Edgeworth talked about was turning up nothing.

(There was a Dubois, right? Sebastian Dubois? Something? Answer me Google!)

And on the other hand, what defense attorneys did he know were still in practice? He knew Edgeworth had a friend, but the only two attorneys he knew personally were Apollo and Kristoph, and who knew what that meant for the state of the law.

Bzzzt.

Phoenix blinked. A text message appeared at the top of the screen. Then another one.

sooo is it safe to assume you don’t need these files anymore?

this is k faraday btw

Kay? What files was she…? Oh. He smacked his forehead. Maya’s case! With all that’d happened in several days, he forgot he’d asked for them at all! He typed up a message.

Yeah sorry about that. It’s looking like I don’t need that file

after all the effort i went through to get it to you? man :(

Sorry about that

He sighed, and was about to put the phone away, when another text came through.

did you have something to do with the bluecorp stuff on the news?

He frowned. Why would Kay be interested in that? Kay didn’t have any connections to that case. He considered it a moment, before he settled on a response.

Uh. A little, I guess

Cool

There was a pause, as the little dots danced along the bottom of the screen.

say, any interest in doing a favor? ya know, since you made me do all that extra work?

///

New To-Do List

• Deal with von Karma
• Deal with Kristoph
• Contact Athena and Apollo
• See what you can do about everyone else

///

He hadn’t expected to be back so soon to Gumshoe’s residence. He took the stairs two at a time, until his body decided to remind him No, Phoenix, you still don’t like exercise.

When he stood in front of the door, he paused for a moment. A favor for Kay Faraday. What exactly would that entail? He raised his hand to knock.

He was interrupted by the unmistakable crack of a gunshot.

For a moment he froze, mind whirring. Had that…come from inside the apartment? Almost on reflex, he grabbed the handle and slammed into the door. The door, being practically made of wood-paneled cardboard, cracked and swung inward. “What’s going on was that a gunshot what happened—”

Phoenix was standing on Gourd Lake.

It took a second for that to register. He blinked a few times, frozen on one leg as he slowly looked around at the green-tinted world around him.

Everything looked a bit fuzzy, flickering occasionally in places. He had no reflection in the water beneath him. The water didn’t even ripple where he stood. There was a faint mist over the water, giving the whole thing an eerie quality. The door behind him had disappeared entirely, replaced by darkness, water, and forest in the distance.

Only two things stood out about his surroundings, and Phoenix’s eyes couldn’t help but be drawn toward them.

The first was the small wooden boat with two green-tinted figures standing frozen inside. One, a middle-aged gentleman, with shoulder length hair and a winter coat. The other, holding a revolver, was Miles Edgeworth, age 24.

Directly next to that was a full-color Kay Faraday, perched on Detective Gumshoe’s shoulders.

The two of them looked up simultaneously. “Aw, Kay, I told you to mute the sound,” Gumshoe said, glancing up at the young woman on his shoulders.

“Aw, come on, what’s the point of getting all these sound effects if I can’t even use them?” Kay leaned an elbow on Gumshoe’s head. “Hiya, Mr. Wright. Thanks for coming.”

“…hey, no problem, uh, what is this?” He stood as still as possible, half expecting to break through the surface of the water any moment. A small, old, overweight dog suddenly began nosing his leg curiously, and Phoenix flinched.

“Oh, sorry! One sec.” Kay pulled out her weirdly bulky phone, hit a few buttons, and in a flash, Gourd Lake disappeared. He was standing in Gumshoe and Kay’s apartment, with a broken door dangling off a hinge behind him. Missile was standing on hardwood floor, prodding Phoenix’s leg, and Miles Edgeworth and Robert Hammond had disappeared.

Phoenix let himself relax now that he was on solid ground, sighing. What was that? A hologram…?

“Aw, man, did you wreck the door?” Kay asked, grabbing Gumshoe’s hair and maneuvering him to the side like some sort of human-sized ratatouille rat.

“Aw, that’s gonna cost at least a week of groceries,” Gumshoe pouted.

“H-Hey, I’m sorry,” Phoenix said, holding up his hands. “I heard a gunshot and I panicked.”

Gumshoe gave Kay a stern look, and she gave him a sheepish grin. “Okay, that one might be on me,” she said.

Phoenix watched the two curiously. He wasn’t used to Gumshoe trying to be stern. It was like watching a child wearing their mom’s makeup. He could almost imagine Gumshoe trying to wear a cravat.

That being said… “Hey, uh, can I ask what you two are doing?” he asked, looking up at Kay.

“Hmm?” Kay looked confused for a second, before slapping her forehead. “Oh! So we’d been looking over all the info from Mr. Edgeworth’s case, like you’d mentioned last time, trying to figure out if there was an issue with Mr. Noodle Man’s testimony.” She patted Gumshoe’s head. “So we’re looking from every angle.”

“Even above,” Gumshoe said, puffing up proudly.

 “That…” That’s not what ‘Looking at it from a new angle’ usually means… He sighed, turning to push the door back into place as well as he could. “Okay, well. I’m here.”

“You are!” Kay vaulted backward off Gumshoe’s shoulders, almost knocking him over, and landed gracefully. “Thanks for coming.”

“Sure,” he said, watching Gumshoe regain his balance and flag over Missile. (“Come on, pal, you know the rules, no bothering guests.”) “So, what did you two need me for?”

“Well—” Kay strode toward a familiar cardboard box— “as you know, Gummy and I are really busy people.”

“…sure.” He wasn’t sure he believed that, but might as well.

Kay laughed, then pulled out some files. “And you’re not that busy, as far as I can tell.”

“Wh…What makes you say that?” Phoenix said.

“Well you’re always—” She froze a second, realizing what she was saying. “…okay, so we’ve been keeping track of you maybe a little bit?”

Phoenix made a face. “Great…”

“But it’s not like you do that much,” Kay protested with a pout. “It barely counts. All you do most days is sit around a coffee shop with a cyborg. It was like trying to watch C-Span!”

“That doesn’t make it less bad,” he said. “Besides, I had things to do there.”

“Well. That’s beside the point,” Kay said, grinning. “The point is, you come wandering out of nowhere, asking about Mia Fey and Mr. Edgeworth and all that. And then, all of a sudden, Poof, Mia’s murderer comes forward and confesses to the crime! The president of Bluecorp even!”

“…okay?” He had a feeling he knew where this was going, but… “So, what sort of favor did you want from me?”

She clapped her hands together. “You like solving mysteries, Mr. Wright?”

Only ones I know the answer to already. “Sometimes,” he said.

A nod, and then she handed the folders to Phoenix. “We have a lot already. We’ve looked into everything.”

“We even got Mr. Noodle Man’s autopsy report after he kicked the bucket!” Gumshoe called, scooping Missile into his arms and bouncing him like a baby.

“Dead? How?”

Gumshoe thought for a moment. “Heart attack I think? Ate a lot of noodles, and nothin’ else. Does stuff to a person’s circulatory system. I should know.” When Phoenix looked concerned, he coughed and continued. “Anyway, turns out DNA tests ID-ed him as the defendant from DL-6, Yogi Yanni!”

“It’s Yanni Yogi,” Phoenix corrected.

A groan. “See?”

Phoenix blinked, looking back toward Kay. “See what?”

“You know a lot about this case,” she said, pouting. “You’re already a step ahead of us. We have the name, and he’s just oozing with motive.”

“But motive doesn’t mean anything if we don’t got intent,” Gumshoe said, striding over with Missile lying in his arms like a sack of potatoes. “Or method, or evidence, or anyone putting him at the scene.”

“So we’re stuck,” Kay said. “We know who to look into, and we know why he’d do it. But we don’t know how, and we don’t have anything to back it up.”

“We’ve been trying to figure out if he could’ve shot Hammond from shore.” Gumshoe scratched his head sheepishly. “But that doesn’t really line up with the autopsy report. So then we thought ‘maybe the boat was closer to shore’. But that doesn’t line up with Mr. Edgeworth’s testimony. And THEN we thought ‘maybe Yogi shot Hammond first, and then set up his body on the boat before Mr. Edgeworth got there!’”

You know, that’s not actually that far off, Phoenix thought.

“And that’s what we were looking at when you broke our door,” Kay said. “But there’s no way at that distance Mr. Edgeworth could’ve missed all that blood, or the fact that the guy was dead.”

Phoenix forced himself not to smile. Remember, Phoenix, you don’t actually know the answer. “Well, did the other man on the boat have to actually be Mr. Hammond?”

Gumshoe looked confused, but Kay’s eyes lit up. “Oo, you’re right! Wait, wait, wait—” She turned, scampering back up onto Gumshoe’s shoulders, startling both him and the dog, and then started typing into her weird phone. Instantly, in a flash of green, they were back on Gourd Lake. Kay pressed a few more buttons, and Edgeworth and Hammond appeared on their boat. But this time, Hammond’s face was covered by his collar.

“What do ya think, Gummy?”

Gumshoe frowned at it, circling the boat as Kay steered him by the hair. For once, he seemed genuinely deep in thought. “I mean, it’s possible, pal,” he said. “But we can’t exactly prove anything with this.”

“But it means there’s a way Yogi could’ve done it!” Kay looked at Phoenix. “So, Mr. Problem-Solver. How do we prove it?”

Well. Manfred von Karma was next on the list, Phoenix thought to himself. He frowned, glancing around. Off in the distance, he could see forest, and the clearing where Lotta Hart had gone Gourdy Spotting. Just past that, he could see The Wet Noodle—err, the caretaker’s shack—silhouetted in the shadows.

He quickly flipped through the incident report. Lotta Hart was a dead end, he realized. After all, Gourdy didn’t exist if Larry was in jail. Which meant no contradictory photographs.

Yanni Yogi was dead, so he couldn’t exactly be interviewed, unless he could talk more people into taking a trip to Kurain. Not that that would be admissible in court.

He sighed, running through that whole case in his mind again, as he ran a hand through his hair. They knew who Yogi was. They already figured out the methodology. Now they just needed proof. What proof would…?

“This was you, wasn't it? You instructed Yanni Yogi to commit murder.”

“... Yanni Yogi... How many years has it been since I've heard him called by that name. He's a fool. I told him to burn it after he read it…”

…The letter!

“Can we still get into the Caretaker’s shack?”

Chapter Text

WARNING! This building has been condemned.

“Hmm. Not very inviting,” Kay said, sticking a crowbar between the wooden slats blocking off the entrance.

They’d made good time in Gumshoe’s car, which may or may not have been manufactured the same year Phoenix was born. It was a rust-red Oldsmobile, with one windshield wiper and the mirrors taped on with packing tape. Phoenix had a feeling that it had maybe three months left before it just collapsed in on itself.

“I’m starting to regret my decision to be here,” Phoenix muttered, as Kay finally pried the door open to the caretakers shack.

“Why’s that?” she asked.

“…no reason.”

“So, what are we looking for pal?” Gumshoe asked, peeking into the room from the doorway.

“I, uh…” Phoenix peeked in next to him. “I don’t know. Anything that looks incriminating, I guess.”

“It’s really dusty in here,” Kay said, striding across the small room. “And it smells awful. Was this a kotatsu?”

It did indeed smell awful. It looked awful too. The general shape of the building remained intact, but everything about it reeked of decay. The floor was damp and moldy. There was a pile of refuse of some sort, where Polly the parrot stood back in the day. A part of the ceiling had collapsed. It seemed most people walking the periphery of Gourd Lake steered clear of this area.

Gumshoe and Kay started poking around cautiously, Kay prodding around with the crowbar. Phoenix walked slowly, eyes scanning the floor. Would that letter have survived this long? Would someone have taken it if the owner of the building passed? Though most of the things here appeared to be left alone to rot.

“…Gummy?”

“Yeah?”

“Soooo, let’s say hypothetically there was tape shaped like a person.”

“…yeah, don’t step there.”

“Cccccccccoooool.” Kay slowly backed away from the kotatsu.

Phoenix edged away too, heading toward the back corner. The TV seemed intact, though it seemed burnt out. Please please please please please… There! “Hey, I found a lockbox.”

“Ooooo!” Suddenly Kay was leaning over his shoulder, grabbing the rusted box out of his hand. “There better be some treasure in here!”

“Treasure? He wasn’t rich,” Phoenix said, as Kay fiddled with the lock.

“Treasures don’t need to be expensive,” Kay said, frowning as she poked at the numbers. “They just need to have value.”

As Phoenix parsed through that statement, Gumshoe tiptoed over. “Need me to bust that open, pal?”

“No need!” Kay grinned. “I think I can handle a rusty old box.”

“Are you sure?” Phoenix asked. “I think I could maybe—”

The box clicked open. “Tah dah~!”

“…oh.”

“Alright, Kay,” Gumshoe grinned, patting her shoulder.

“Yup!” Kay turned, grinning. “The thing is rusted beyond repair, but I guess the code was supposed to beeeeee…” She inspected the inside of the box lid. “…1226. No, 122…something, give me a second.”

“1228?” Phoenix prompted. “Like the DL-6 Incident?”

“…well, that’s probably incriminating, right?” Gumshoe grinned, clapping his hands. “Case closed! We did it!”

Kay was looking in the box, eyes wide. “…Gummy? You have no idea.”

///

New To-Do List

• Deal with von Karma
• Deal with Kristoph
• Contact Athena and Apollo
• See what you can do about everyone else

///

“And you’re asking me to do what with this, exactly?” Angel Starr frowned over the letter, turning it around in her hands.

“It’s just a quick favor! Wouldn’t take more than a second, pal. You just bring it to one of your forensics boys, have them work some of their magic, and boom! Mr. Edgeworth’s name is cleared!”

The four of them were in the guest parking lot of the prosecutors’ office, just besides the gate. It was rather quiet here, considering the time, but there were still a fair number of cars. The guest side tended to have more bereaved families of victims than Phoenix was comfortable with, but Ms. Starr seemed to be a pro at whatever sales pitch she was giving them. It was downright terrifying.

Phoenix and Kay munched on their own lunches as Starr and Gumshoe talked. Of all the people Phoenix had met, he hadn’t even considered running into her again. Good lord, how old would the Cough-Up Queen be? Almost forty? Her hair was up now, but she still looked as graceful and intimidating as ever. She hardly looked any older, save for maybe a few wrinkles near her eyes.

 “Oh, yes, we all know how invested I am in clearing dear Mr. Edgeworth’s name,” Angel said with an eye roll as she rifled through her boxed lunches. “He was such a dear friend of mine.”

“Really?” Gumshoe asked. “I thought you hated him.”

Angel blinked. Then she pulled out another box. “Dicky, would you be interested in a Peanut Butter Mouth Shutter? It’s brand new, I was hoping for a test subject.”

“Mm, can you not call me Dicky, though?”

Angel laughed. Kay looked fascinated, mouthing “Dicky” to herself.

“Okay, fine, so you don’t like Mr. Edgeworth,” Gumshoe said, taking the lunchbox from her. “But look at that note! That’s real convincing isn’t it? Maybe you think he was an ass, but you gotta care about finding the truth.”

“Hmm.” She looked down. “Well, speaking of that, I’m sure my boyfriend would like a sample of each of your handwriting to compare this to.”

Gumshoe wilted. “Buwhaab…” He grimaced, trying to chew the rest of the peanut butter. “Amglwh…”

Phoenix decided to chime in. “Sure, we can do that,” he said. “Anything to make this evidence stronger. Are you going to compare the handwriting to anyone else’s?”

She finally looked over at Phoenix, smiling sweetly. “You want the Crunchy Goodness, correct?”

“Uh, I already have one…”

“Handwriting analysis is not quite that simple,” she said, handing Phoenix the box anyway. He quickly slid it under the first lunch. “We don’t have a databank like we do for fingerprints. Unless you have a sample with you, or a warrant, we don’t have anything to compare. Otherwise all we can do is make sure you actually found this where you say you did.”

Kay frowned. “We don’t have any handwriting to compare it to, do we,” she muttered.

“Well, at the very least, it’d prove Mr. Edgeworth innocent,” Gumshoe said, finally swallowing his food. “That’s what I’m hoping for.”

Kay frowned at him a bit. “What about finding out who framed Mr. Edgeworth? Don't you want that?”

“I mean, yeah, of course I want that,” Gumshoe said. “But come on, it’s been so long since we’ve gotten anything. I’ll take my victories where I can get ‘em at this point.”

She looked like she wanted to argue, but she just looked back toward Angel. “So what does this mean for us now?”

“I’m more concerned about what this could mean for me,” she replied, smiling. “After all, you two know I don’t do favors for free.”

“Aw, come on, Ms. Starr, I’m beggin’ you,” Gumshoe said. “I’ll give you anything. What do you want? You want some fancy chocolate? I can buy fancy chocolate.” He pulled out his wallet. “…I can buy one fancy chocolate.”

“I can purchase my own supplies, thank you very much,” she said firmly. “It’s favors I trade in, my dear ex-detective. I need something you can do for me. And truly I can’t think of anything…” she glanced pointedly down, “…exciting you can offer me.”

Gumshoe flushed red and coughed, pulling his coat closed and muttering something under his breath.

Angel just gave a smug smile, before glancing back at the letter. “But,” she said, turning it over again. “I will admit, am curious now. And I doubt this will give my boyfriend more than five minutes of work.” She gave Gumshoe a stern look. “Don’t get me wrong, Gumshoe. You and your little friends will owe me for this.”

He gulped. “Yes ma’am.”

“I don’t like Mr. Edgeworth,” she said. “Or prosecutors in general. But if a prosecutor put an innocent man behind bars with a faulty investigation, I’d like to know.” She considered it for a moment. “Or innocent in this case.”

Phoenix bit his lip. It wouldn’t help to argue with Angel now.

Gumshoe grabbed Angel’s hand. “Thank you! Thank you thank you, I owe you big time!”

“Don’t touch me.”

He let go. “Thank you so much, pal, I promise I’ll pay you back somehow.”

“I’m sure you will.” She tucked the letter into her basket. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I was on my way to see my boyfriend.”

“Sure thing, Ms. Starr!” Gumshoe turned and headed off, and Kay followed after.

Phoenix turned, but couldn’t help but pause for a moment. He glanced back toward Angel, who had noticed his hesitance. “Yes?” she asked, smiling sweetly. “You look as if you want to say something to me.”

Edgeworth didn’t know about the forgery. Edgeworth didn’t know about the forgery. Gant and Lana knew about the forgery, but Edgeworth didn’t. “Nothing, ma’am,” he said. “Sorry.”

She laughed. “That’s adorable.” A shake of her head, and she turned. “You seem like you have your head screwed on your shoulders, unlike a certain ex-detective I know. So I’ll tell you: I think Miles Edgeworth got what he deserved.” Phoenix’s knuckles tightened. “But,” she added, “so did Joe Darke, in a sense.” Her eyes grew sharp. “I don’t approve of prosecutors or their methodology, even if it gets rid of the bad guys.”

“He wasn’t a bad guy,” Phoenix said.

She paused a moment, looking taken aback. “Mm? Well, he’s been dead for a while now,” she said. “I suppose it doesn’t matter anymore.”

“…I guess not,” he muttered, trying his hardest not to glare.

She looked him over curiously, and without another word, swept from the parking garage, leaving Phoenix steaming. He was tempted to chase after her. “It wasn’t his fault,” he said toward the door. “He couldn’t have known.” But of course, no one heard him.

He spun toward where Kay and Gumshoe had disappeared to. It shouldn’t matter what Angel Starr thought. What would it matter anyway if she knew? Edgeworth was gone. No change of heart from the Cough-Up Queen was going to change that. All that mattered was putting von Karma away. Maybe they ran out of time for DL-6, but they still had five years before the statute of limitations on this case. He was clearly a co conspirator. They could figure something out before…

…before…

…five years?

He stopped in his tracks. Five years. Five years to avenge a man that wasn’t dead. Five years in a world where nothing was real. Five years of not existing.

It hadn’t occurred to him, until just now, hold long an eternity five years was.

He’d almost forgotten. He was so used to the idea that Edgeworth was dead now, that he’d almost forgotten that he wasn’t. This world was starting to feel more real than his real life. He’d almost forgotten that they were all waiting for him at home, his real home.

Were they really waiting for him? What was real anymore? What wasn’t? Were his friends real? His family? Gumshoe and Kay? Godot? Which was more important? Which was more real?

Could he survive five years of not existing? A lifetime of not existing? Could he even go back? Was there a place to go back to? Did that world cease to exist when he woke up in that alley?

He forced his feet forward. There’s no sense dwelling on it, he told himself, trying to force down whatever breakdown his own mind was forcing on him. There’s nothing you can do. There’s nothing you can do to fix this. Just keep moving forward.

Is there anything you can fix here?

His feet faltered at that. What was he doing here anyway? Chasing down cases he’d already won? He couldn’t do anything, clearly. Not for Edgeworth, at least. Not for Maya. Not for Athena, or Pearls, or Trucy, or Apollo. He couldn't turn back time or revive the dead. He couldn’t even save people now if he wanted to. He wasn't a defense attorney. He was just nobody.

Would he be stuck here so long he’d forget what his old life was like? Would he forget what it felt like to kiss Miles’s lips? Would he forget what it felt like to hold his daughter in his arms? Would he…?

“…t’s just frustrating.”

He paused in the doorway. Kay and Gumshoe were up ahead, on the sidewalk just outside the entrance to the parking garage.  He’d been so lost in thought he hadn’t realized he’d caught up to them. He was about to speak up, when he realized they were mid-conversation.

“It’s just…I hate always being one step behind.” Kay’s hands were balled into fists at her side. “We’re always missing one piece of the puzzle. It’s always one small detail, and then we’re left with nothing to show for it! Even now that we’ve found Mr. Expert on the case, we’re still always playing catchup.”

“Kay…”

“I know,” Kay snapped, eyes focused on Gumshoe’s chest rather than his face. “I get it. We’re doing the best we can with what we have. But it’s just—why is the best we can never good enough, huh?”

Gumshoe was biting his lip. “…Kay…”

“And it’s always like, Oh, if only we had Mr. Edgeworth,” she said. “He was the smart one. He could’ve figured it out. He could’ve figured anything out. He was good at this sort of stuff. But when it’s just us…it’s just like, what can we really do, you know? What can we actually do when it’s just us? Find some old letter? Chase down leads on a dead case? Watch as the murderers get away?”

A pause. Gumshoe seemed like he was searching for words, but he just kept biting his lip.

“I’m just…really tired, Gummy,” she mumbled. “This is getting so exhausting. A-And I know it’s my job to stay positive for you but…”

Gumshoe finally let out a small sigh. “S’not your job to be positive all the time, pal. You’re allowed to get frustrated. God knows I’ve been frustrated for years.”

She let out a shaky laugh, swinging her arms a bit. The two of them stood there in silence for a moment, standing there in front of the prosecutors’ office. “I’m a much better thief than investigator, that’s for sure,” she mumbled eventually.

“Well, I’m not exactly good at either,” Gumshoe said, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Maybe we’re working slower than Mr. Edgeworth would’ve, but look at how far we’ve got! Even without him! Maybe it took…longer than it would’ve with Mr. Edgeworth—”

“It took literal years to get all the Yatagarasu stuff figured out,” she said. “And I still don't think I can say we're done with it.”

“Well, the point is, we got something done. We’re gonna get there, pal. We’re going to avenge Mr. Edgeworth too, just you watch. And then we’ll go out for drinks, and you can go out and do all the well-intentioned crimes you want!”

They stood there for another moment. “Sorry for sounding so down,” she said, forcing a weak smile.

He laughed. “You’re usually chipper enough for the two of us,” he told her. “Least I can do is repay you every once in a while.”

Kay nodded. “Yeah,” she muttered. Then she took a deep breath, straightening her back. “Sorry, that was…” She shook her head. “…anyway…did Ms. Starr call you ‘Dicky’?”

Gumshoe coughed, smile falling. “Yeah, the only people who still call me that are my mom’s old knitting club and the kids who used to bully me in high school.”

The grin had finally returned. “Did Ms. Starr bully you in high school?”

“Everybody bullied me in high school.” He glanced up, and finally seemed to notice the onlooker. “Oh! Hey! Mr. Wright! Forgot you were even here.”

“…hey,” he said.

“Sorry ‘bout that. Did you want to come with us for celebratory drinks? My treat!”

He shook his head. “I don’t really drink anymore,” he said. “Except grape juice.”

“I can buy grape juice,” Gumshoe said. “Come on, we can celebrate the little victories.”

Which was more real? The man standing on front of him or the family waiting for him at home?

And what will happen when Phoenix gives up entirely?

“…Hey Mr. Wright, you aren’t looking so good.”

“I’m not…feeling so good.” He knelt down a moment, putting his head between his knees. It took all his concentration to not vomit on the spot, or just scream. Phoenix just took a moment to focus on breathing, as the shadows of Kay and Gumshoe jogged closer.

“Mr. Wright?”

“Are you okay?”

“Do you need a ride to the hospital?”

“Do you need a glass of water?”

“I…I miss them,” Phoenix croaked. Not to them, really, but he just wanted to say it out loud. “I miss my home. I miss my job. I miss my family and my friends. I’m…” He took a couple of sharp, shaky breaths. “Sorry. I’m just…homesick, I guess.” He let out a laugh that probably sounded like he’d started crying. God, was he crying?

“Aw no, don’t cry, pal, you’re gonna make me cry.”

“Me too, it’s gonna be okay Mr. Wright, please don’t cry.”

Gumshoe and Kay had knelt next to him on either side, looking concerned, hands fluttering over him. Gumshoe gently grabbed his shoulder after a moment. “Do you need a ride home or something, pal?”

Phoenix gulped a few more gulps of air, shaking his head. “No, no, it’s okay,” he said.

“It really doesn’t sound like it,” Kay said, eyes looking a bit shiny. “Come on, you helped us out today. The least we can do is take you home or something. You said you were homesick, right? Can't we drive you home?”

Phoenix sat there on the sidewalk outside the parking garage of the prosecutor's office, as Kay and Gumshoe hovered over him. He couldn’t go home, even if he wanted to. And he really wanted to.

He wanted to go home more than life itself. And so far, only one person even remembered his name.

“Can you…get me to Kurain Village?”

Chapter Text

“Here ya go, pal.”

“Detective Gumshoe, I can’t accept this—”

“Just take it,” Kay said, leaning out the side window. “We basically made you do our job, might as well take a cut of the pay.”

“No one was paying you for this,” Phoenix protested as Gumshoe pushed the cash into his hand. “I can’t just take your money.”

“Think of it as an investment, then,” Gumshoe said. “You’re smart. If me and Kay are having trouble solving a case, we’ll call you in!”

“Like a freelancer!” Kay chimed.

“Or a…a consultant,” Gumshoe added.

“One of those words.”

“Yeah!”

Phoenix sighed, glancing down at the cash Gumshoe had handed to him. “…alright. Thanks.”

“No prob, Mr. Wright,” Kay said. “We’ll call you if we need some mysteries to be solved.”

“Sure.” Phoenix gave a weak wave, and Gumshoe and Kay drove off.

He was back in Kurain Village. Gumshoe had agreed to drive him there in the morning. It was weird to be back so soon. He’d been prepared to wait for a while before going back, since he didn’t have enough for a round trip ticket. But here he was, standing on the dirt road in front of Kurain’s central path.

He counted the money in his hand, before tucking it into his pocket. Enough to pay the Feys for a channeling, and to get himself home.

Home…

He shook his head, starting forward along the path. You’re here for answers, he said. Maybe no one remembers you, but there’s a secret here to dig up. If the living can’t help, maybe the dead—

“Oh!”

Phoenix jumped, looking up toward the main manor. A pair of wide brown eyes stared back at him. Pearl Fey held his gaze for a moment, before scampering across the front porch and down the stairs toward him. “Hello good sir,” she said breathlessly, stopping a few feet in front of him.

“Pearl,” he said. Then, “Sorry, Mystic Pearl.”

“I didn’t think you’d be back,” she said.

He smiled at her. “Me neither. But I have some dead people that I need to talk to.”

Pearl nodded. She still had that blank look on her face, but there was an odd excitement to her eyes that hadn’t been there his last visit. “Yes, of course. I will inform my mother,” she said, then paused. She glanced around for a moment, before moving closer and leaning in. “Men came a few days ago,” she whispered. “They were asking about Mystic Mia and Mystic Maya.”

“Did they?” Phoenix asked.

Pearl nodded. “They said another person came forward about her murder. They even talked about it on the television! My mother doesn’t want us to talk about it, though.”

“Oh.” He didn’t realize Pearl would watch TV. Or could. Her consumption of any outside media was pretty limited up until Morgan’s arrest, and even afterword, she was never exactly pop-culture savvy.

Another glance back toward the door to the manor. “Did you want to speak to her again?” she asked. “Mystic Mia I mean.”

“Among others,” he said. “I…have some things I need to figure out. And I think I know people who can help me.”

“Okay,” she said. “I can do multiple channelings if it is needed. I will tell my mother. Please, come with me.”

///

“Do you know who I am?”

“Absolutely not,” Edgeworth said, looking him over with furrowed brows. “Should I?”

It was beyond odd to see Miles Edgeworth with Pearl’s hair. And he looked so young. Phoenix forgot how young a twenty-four-year-old Edgeworth was. But there he was, face a bit smoother, eyes a bit harsher. He sat in place, arms folded and looking as stern as he could in Pearl’s ill-fitting robes.

The sight made his heart hurt so badly.

“My name is Phoenix,” he said. “We were, uh…friends in elementary school?”

“What possible reason would I remember someone from elementary school?” Edgeworth shot back. “I barely remember what half of my coworkers looked like. Why are you here? And why am I here?”

“I need answers, Edgeworth. And I think you can help me.”

///

“Okay, don’t get me wrong. I’d be happy to help you out, Mister,” Maya said, frowning. “But I’m kind of dead right now. I’m not exactly in a position to be doing much helping.”

God, she looked so small. It hadn’t occurred to him that she’d be younger than Pearl. But Pearl was about eighteen, and Maya never would be.

“It wouldn’t involve much,” he told her. “I just need someone to help me figure this out.”

“Figure what out?” she asked. “Is it like a riddle? I like to think I’m pretty good at riddles.”

“Sort of.” He sighed, folding his hands in his lap. “I’m…stuck here. And I can’t figure out why. No one knows who I am, and I’m just…stuck.”

“Well, I don’t know what I can do for ya, but you probably called me back for some reason. And seeing as I don’t have anywhere to be any time soon…” She clapped her hands together with a smile. “Let’s get puzzle solving, Nick.”

///

“I guess the logical first step is to remember what you were doing before you got here,” Mia said.

Phoenix sighed. “Even if I remembered, what would that accomplish?”

She considered it for a moment. “Well, clearly you’re not supposed to be here,” she said. “But something like this can’t just happen by chance. Can it?” She seemed unsure, folding her arms.

“Well, something like this doesn’t exactly happen normally.” He motioned around. “I wasn’t confronted by an angel or a witch in a bubble. I just woke up here. No explanation. No guiding light.”

“But why were you unconscious in the first place?” she asked. “Did something happen to you?”

“I…” He paused a moment, trying to remember. Of course he remembered talking to Athena. He remembered leaving in a huff. He remembered walking down the street. Wanting to talk to Edgeworth. Maybe to apologize for something?

And then he remembered…pain. Darkness. Disorientation. And opening his eyes facedown on the pavement. “I don’t know,” he finally admitted. “All I remember is wanting to talk to Miles. Are you trying to say I’m in purgatory or something? Or a coma?”

She wrinkled her nose a bit. “I’d hope not,” she said. “I certainly don’t feel like a figment of your imagination, but I guess we have no way of really proving that.”

He sighed. “I guess not.”

“But I don't think that's why you called me here, is it?”

He glanced up at her, and she gave him an encouraging smile. “You want to know why I’m the only one who remembers you. Is that right, Phoenix?”

///

“Now that I think about it, it is really weird,” Maya said, looking him over. “I don’t know you, but…mm…” She thought for a second. “It’s kind of like those weird ‘unfocus your eyes’ pictures. The more I try to remember why I know your name, the less I can remember. But when I unfocus, stuff just kinda comes to me, y’know?”

“Like what?” Phoenix asked.

“Um…well, like you…c’mon, Nick, I just told you that thinking about it makes it harder,” she whined. “I remember you like to ask dumb questions, does that count?”

He laughed a bit, rubbing his neck. “Okay, that’s fair,” he said.

She frowned, looking him over. “Maybe it’s ‘cause I’m a spirit,” she said, pressing her knuckles to her cheek. “Spirits exist almost outside of time and space, in a way. Since we’re not tied to the physical world…? Ahh, I don’t know how to describe it.”

“So spirits can remember things from my world?”

“Sort of? I guess it’s like…” She leaned her head back, deep in thought. “You’re not a part of this world, right? You’re like an untethered spirit of some kind. Well, we’re not exactly attached to this world either, once we die. So that’s why we still sort of remember you.”

///

“No, for the last time, I do not have any memory of you.”

“C’mon, Edgeworth, just. Concentrate for a sec, will you?” Phoenix begged. “I really need your help.”

“Why on earth do you need my help for anything?” Edgeworth said, looking exasperated. “Not only do I barely remember who you are, I’m…incredibly dead. Unbelievably dead. It’s hard to be more dead than I am at the present moment.”

“Maybe so, but I know I would’ve talked to you the day that I left.” He’d forgotten how uncooperative an angry mid-twenties Edgeworth could be. He’d mellowed out more than Phoenix realized. “You have to have known something. Where I was going, what I was doing. Was I in the middle of a case? What happened that made me so upset?”

“Why would I know that? I thought I knew you from elementary school,” he snapped. “Besides, I’ve been dead for, what three years?” He paused, thinking. “Five years? Ten? It’s odd, I haven’t been keeping track of time here.”

“Ten, I think,” Phoenix informed him. “But that’s not the point.”

“Then what is the point?” Edgeworth snapped again, finger tapping impatiently. “For goodness sake, you always do this, pestering and pestering until you get something out of me. Well it certainly won’t work this time—”

“Ahah!”

Edgeworth jumped. “Must you shout like that?” he muttered, rubbing his temples.

“There, you see? You remembered me for a moment!”

Edgeworth blinked. “…I most certainly did not.”

“Miles.”

“Why does it matter?” he said finally. “I don’t particularly want to remember you.”

“Wha—Why not?” Phoenix protested.

“Because I’m…” He frowned for a moment, an odd look passing over his face. “…irritated at you? Upset at you? I-I don’t know. Looking at you right now, it…” He paused, searching for the right words, suddenly looking lost. “Looking at you, it…hurts.”

“…why is that?” Phoenix asked softly.

“Why on earth should I know?” he muttered. “Maybe it’s just…overwhelming to suddenly be called back from the grave to be interviewed by some stranger from elementary school.”

“Some stranger, huh?”

Edgeworth met his eyes again, brows furrowing farther. After a moment, he let his arms fall to his sides. “You say I would've spoken to you on the day in question," he said. "But why me? Why do you feel…familiar?”

Phoenix gave a sheepish grin. “…okay, maybe I knew you from more than elementary school…”

///

“Okay, no, listen, I think I’ve seen movies like before!”

Phoenix sighed, playing around with a nearby candle as Maya spoke. “Yeah? And what happened in those movies?”

“Clearly you have been brought here to learn some sort of lesson.” She grinned at him, leaning forward. “So, tell me. What horrible character flaw are you working through? What lesson has this world been imparting on you?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “Doesn’t someone usually tell me beforehand? Learn to love what you already have, learn to appreciate the people you love, I get it! I got it the moment I realized you were dead.”

Maya looked surprised for a second. “…aw, that’s really sweet,” she said, tearing up a bit. “I wish I remembered why.”

“It’s fine, I appreciate the sentiment.” He sighed, rubbing his chin. “I don’t think I’m here to learn a lesson,” he told her. “There’s gotta be some sort of trick to it.”

Maya wiped at her eyes, trying to think about it. “Well, there’s gotta be something keeping you here,” she said. “You’re a lost soul in another world than your own. Maybe something brought you here.” A pause. “…did you piss off a witch?”

Phoenix rolled his eyes. “No.”

“Darn.” She sighed. “Well, as far as I know, the only people that can get untethered like that are spirits or something. And it's not like you could just…”

Phoenix glanced at her. Her face had gone serious. “Maya?”

“A-Ah, nothing,” she said with a nervous grin. “Just…thinking aloud, don’t mind me.”

///

“I’m just so lost, Mia,” he said, letting his head fall to his hands. “I don’t know why I’m here. I don't know how to leave. And everything is just so wrong. I’ve been trying to fix everything, and save everyone, and I’m just running in circles.”

“It’s not your job to fix everything,” Mia said, but Phoenix shook his head.

“Maybe not, but I mean, what am I supposed to do?” He sighed, looking up. “…Redd White confessed to your murder. Ten years too late, but it’s something.”

She blinked at him. “You’re acting like you haven’t been doing enough,” she said. “Do you hear yourself? You’ve defeated a powerful criminal at his own game. Twice, if these vague memories of mine are anything to go by.”

“Yeah, and what do I have to show for it?”

She leaned forward, hesitated a moment, then put her hand on his shoulder. “Phoenix.”

“…yeah?”

“I’m proud of you.”

“Wh…” Suddenly his eyes started to sting again. “Come on, Chief, don’t do this to me.”

“What you’re doing right now is amazing,” she said, letting her arm drop as he furiously wiped at his eyes. “And I know you’re doing all that you can. But don’t overextend yourself trying to fix something you never caused in the first place.”

“But what if I did?” Phoenix protested, voice cracking. “What if this is my fault? What if I brought this on myself? What if I abandoned everyone I know and love and care about just because I was frustrated or tired or…”

“Phoenix. You’ve always been one of the kindest men I know,” she said, eyes fierce. “You’re doing enough. I promise.”

"Chief…"

"I promise, Phoenix."

///

“I just need to remember what happened,” Phoenix said, hands folded into his lap. “I need to get home. Where you are.”

“I’m right here,” Edgeworth said.

Phoenix rolled his eyes. “Well yeah, but I mean the…the real you.”

“The real me?” Edgeworth said, raising an eyebrow. “Am I not real to you, Mr. Wright?”

“W-Well yeah, but—”

“No, I understand,” he interrupted smoothly, smirking a bit. “I’m something separate from the ‘real’ Miles Edgeworth. Your Miles Edgeworth.”

“Yeah…my Miles Edgeworth.”

Edgeworth sighed. He leaned his head back, thinking. “It’s odd. Logically, I know none of what you're telling me makes sense, but…well, the more I think on it, the more it just feels…correct.” A scowl. “Which under normal circumstances wouldn’t merit any further thought…”

“Then you don’t need to think,” Phoenix said. Then, with a laugh, “I never do.”

An eye roll. “I worry about you sometimes, Wright,” he said. “Or at least, someone out there under the name Miles Edgeworth does.”

Phoenix laughed. “I guess that’s better than nothing.”

“…I wonder if you do.”

Phoenix blinked. “…if I what? Worry?”

“You’re always so concerned with everything else around you,” he murmured. He wasn’t looking at Phoenix, but at a point over his shoulder. “It’s exhausting to watch sometimes. Self-sacrifice is one thing, but sacrificing yourself is another.”

“Is that…right…?” he asked weakly. What was Edgeworth talking about?

“…would you choose me, Phoenix?”

That…why did that sound familiar? He stared at Edgeworth for a moment, trying to remember. Even once they’d started dating, it was rare for Edgeworth to call him by his first name. Only when he wanted his attention.

“…Choose you for what?” Phoenix pressed, scratching at his chin. “Were we…were we fighting or something? I know Athena said I was upset, but I don’t…”

“Someday you’ll need to make a decision.” Edgeworth’s eyes were distant. There was an odd quality to it, like he was lost in thought. And the words sounded so familiar, why did it sound familiar?

“…Miles?”

“Someday you’ll need to make a decision,” he repeated. “To take care of yourself or to keep making sacrifices. And who loses in that scenario, I wonder? You? Me? Trucy?” His eyes finally locked onto Phoenix’s. “What are you willing to sacrifice, Phoenix?”

“Miles, what the hell are y—”

It only took a blink, but Pearl sat in front of him. “Good sir, are you finished with this channeling? I can move on to another if you’d like.”

“…what…what was…” He blinked a few times, trying to make sense of what’d just happened. “…okay.”

Chapter Text

“And the prodigal son returns. Here I thought you’d become a productive member of society.”

Phoenix raised an eyebrow at Godot as he closed the door behind him. “Well, considering I have maybe ten dollars to my name, no, I didn’t.”

He’d made it back to the city alright, the conversations swirling around his head. Mia and Maya and Miles. He was no closer to going home than when he’d arrived. He didn’t have any money to his name. He couldn’t do anything else for Kay and Gumshoe, even if he could tell them about von Karma.

He pulled out his To-Do list, which was starting to look like the sort of homework Larry would find at the bottom of his backpack at the end of every school year. Von Karma and Kristoph and Apollo and Athena. Pearl. Trucy. With a sigh, he sat down in the folding chair as he let his head fall into his hands.

Godot watched him as he shifted around. “Ten dollars huh?” He set down the pen he’d been using, grabbing the large booklet he’d been writing in and moving it beneath the counter. “Do you just burn money for warmth? Or have you found more creative ways of burning money?”

Phoenix glanced up at him, as the booklet disappeared. “What is that?”

“Hmm? What is what?”

Phoenix frowned. “Those papers you were just working on?” He craned his neck. “What was that?”

“Oh.” Godot looked down, pulling the papers back up. They were stapled at the top. Leaning forward, Phoenix could see the words Mental Health Evaluation/Mental Health Workbook. “I, uh…" He coughed. "You mentioned the name of a therapist on the train back from Mia’s place,” he said, almost sounding embarrassed if Phoenix believed that Godot were capable of the emotion. “I figured, if I’m serious about the whole ‘clawing my way out of hell’ thing, might as well start somewhere.”

“…oh. Wow.”

“Though technically this Cykes girl is a crisis counselor,” he said, tossing the booklet out of sight again. “Not a therapist. She might even be looking into forensic psychology rather than treatment. But she was willing to give me some free evaluation stuff, so why not?”

“…huh,” Phoenix said. “I wasn’t…expecting that.”

“I wasn’t expecting to live past thirty-three, so let’s call it even and not talk about this again.”

“I’m happy for you, Godot.”

“Don’t patronize me,” Godot said, but his tired half-smile seemed almost genuine. “Need something bitter?”

“Sure. As long as it’s free,” Phoenix said.

Godot laughed, turned, and began to prepare the coffee.

There was always something at the end of a story, wasn’t there. Something he’d find. A friend. A lover. A daughter. A badge. Or even just a depressed caffeine addict willing to let him sleep on his floor.

He sat there for a moment, twisting the edge of his To-Do list. It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t even good. But it was something.

“I don’t get you, Wright.”

Phoenix blinked, drawn back from his thoughts. Godot had placed the coffee mugs down and was watching curiously. “In what way?” Phoenix asked.

“I mean, you keep giving me all this advice, trying to drag me away from the precipice, and then here you are, doing your own thing, losing all your money and acting like you’re the blind one.”

Phoenix frowned. “…advice…?”

“Like, for example, why don’t you have a job if you’re a defense attorney?”

Phoenix paused, glancing down at the badge gleaming on his lapel. “…I’m not, uh…licensed on the west coast,” he lied. Or well, technically it was the truth.

Somehow, Phoenix could tell Godot was rolling his eyes. “Then get a job legal-adjacent,” he said, grabbing the mugs and bringing them over to Phoenix’s table. “Be a paralegal. Something.” Taking a sip of his own mug, he grinned. "I can tell when someone is trapped by shackles of their own making. You don't need to let them bind you."

Phoenix bit his lip, poking at one of the mugs. It sounded easy when Godot said it, but… “I can’t fill out paperwork,” he admitted.

“…paperwork?”

“I don’t have an address,” he said. “…and I don’t know if I still have a social security number. I can’t pay taxes. I have no idea what will happen if I try to apply for a real job.”

Godot stopped what he was doing just to look at Phoenix. “…how the hell do you lose a social security number?”

“I-It’s complicated,” Phoenix said.

“Everything about you seems to be.” Godot pressed his hand to his lips, looking deep in thought. “…well…there’re still options.”

“Options like what?”

Godot considered it for a moment. “Well. At this point I owe you my life. Do you think my social security number would cover that?”

Phoenix choked on his coffee. After a second of sputtering, he managed, “I’m not doing tax fraud with you, Godot.”

“Is that tax fraud or regular fraud?”

“What does it matter?” Phoenix set the cup down. “Besides, look at me. Who’s going to believe that I’m Diego Armando, Hispanic forty-year-old coffee shop owner?”

“Actually, this place isn’t really in my name,” Godot said. “I don’t think I even truly own my own soul. I’m just the devil’s tenant at this point.”

“Wh—Wait, who owns this building then?”

A shrug. “I think it was repossessed by Tender Lender before I got set up in here,” he said. “This whole place is mostly just a front for their business, with the added bonus of me paying rent.”

He groaned a bit, which trailed off into a resigned sigh. “Well. Still, I don’t think I can just steal your identity.”

“Yeah, I guess not,” he muttered, taking a sip. “Well, theoretically you can work without an identity if it’s a small enough company. Don’t work for some huge law firm, find something small.” He shrugged. "If you've already given up moving forward, you've already resigned yourself to digging your own grave beneath you. I should know."

“…find something small,” he repeated to himself. “I’ll…think about it.”

“Good to hear.” Godot took another swig of coffee. Then he paused, mug still at his lips. “Hmm. Speak of the devil and he doth appear…”

“…huh?”

“Well, looks like youse gotta customer.”

Phoenix felt the hairs on the back of his next stand up. Godot just looked annoyed. “Alright, I guess that’s my afternoon,” he muttered, taking another large gulp. “I think you should make yourself scarce.”

Phoenix glanced over as a familiar figure strode past. Furio Tigre hardly spared him a glance. “Youse heard the man, get outta here.”

“…sure.” He set down his coffee, slipped toward the exit and out the door.

///

New To-Do List

• Make a resume?
• Deal with von Karma (Statute of limitations for DL-6)
• Deal with Kristoph
• Contact Athena and Apollo
• Pearl? (What can you even do here? You can’t just Get Rid Of Morgan)
• See what you can do about everyone else
• (Is there something you can do about Godot’s debt?)

///

The printer grinded painfully as it spat out a few copies of a hastily-written resume. Phoenix watched silently, poking at the library shelves he leaned against.

It felt so…normal, to think about getting a job here. To get himself a normal life. It felt…wrong, if he were honest with himself. An admission that he was stuck. That as impermanent as this place was, he needed to settle down. That he needed to keep moving forward when everything he loved was trapped firmly behind.

Well, on the other hand, you don’t have much else to be doing, he thought, scooping up the papers and letting the warmth seep through his fingers. He’d already hit a dead end with his To-Do list. There wasn’t much he could do to help Pearl now that White was gone. Unless he happened to stumble upon von Karma’s handwriting, he couldn’t do much for Kay and Gumshoe. He’d already arrived too late to do anything for Athena. And it wasn’t like he could just walk into Kristoph’s office and tell Apollo he’s been working for a murderer for several years.

He sighed, looking over his makeshift resume. He remembered only a week ago telling Godot he could move forward. It seemed so simple at the time. Godot should do this. Godot should do that. Godot could move on. Godot could rebuild his life.

What good would all this do him? He wasn’t here to rebuild his life. All the people he’d want to save were already either in prison or dead. Hell, at this point, the only open attorney’s office he could think of was…

…was…

…wait.

What good would getting a job do him?

‘Just find a small law firm.’

Deal with Kristoph

You don’t have much else to be doing

It wasn’t like he could just walk into Kristoph’s office and...

The only attorney’s office Phoenix knew about was Kristoph’s.

Where both Apollo and Kristoph worked.

Gavin Law Offices. Kristoph's small, private attorney's office.

Quickly, he jogged toward the computer he’d been using, and, after emailing the resume to himself, he opened every site and article about Kristoph’s office. Then every site about Kristoph.

The Coolest Defense in The West

Kristoph Gavin, Attorney at Law

Another Not Guilty Verdict For Up-And-Coming Attorney

He flipped through all the articles, profiles, and interviews. There was plenty to be had. Kristoph Gavin’s name carried prestige with it. He was a renowned defense attorney. Respected in a way Phoenix never was. Talked about, celebrated, for many years in the legal world.

There were some pictures of Kristoph as a younger man. He’d gotten a head start on Phoenix by a few years, becoming a lawyer around seventeen like his brother. Even as a newbie, he still had that same cool confidence on his face. Those same eyes. That same smile.

“You seem like you could use a drink.”

Phoenix looked up at the figure standing over him. The man looked down, a sympathetic smile on his face. The man from the hearing. The one who had voted with Phoenix. “Kristoph Gavin,” the man said.

“I know who you are.” It came out a croak.

A split second of annoyance. For a moment, Phoenix wondered if it was real. Then the easy smile was back. “And I certainly know you at this point, Mr. Wright.” He held out a hand. “I’ll ask again. Do you want a drink?”

And even then, he knew something was wrong. Something visceral, something deep in his soul. The same part of him that always knew as a kid when a Scooby Doo character was just a bit too nice. Something that told him ‘Run’.

But…god did he not want to be alone right now.

He reached up, and grabbed the hand.

He blinked, and Kristoph’s teenage face continued to smile back at him, frozen in time. A face that he knew so well. A smile he’d known for seven years. Eyes that tried so hard to disguise their contempt.

Kristoph Gavin.

“………I wonder if he’s hiring.”

Chapter Text

As everyone knew, Kristoph Gavin had three passions: Law, Murder, and Interior Design.

Kristoph had always given off that aura of Old Money, and his law office was no different. Beautiful upholstery, large bookshelves of leather-bound books. An intricately designed carpet. Ornately-carved wooden cabinets. And this seemed was just the waiting area.

This is why I don’t understand rich people, Phoenix thought, sitting gingerly on a couch that likely cost more than every piece of furniture at the agency combined. It smelled old, but in a way that said ‘history’ more than ‘deterioration’. Like it'd been bought at an antique store or passed down for generations.

He sat there a few minutes, taking in the sights. It was a nice office. Old fashioned. Regal. Expensive. He felt out of place, like he always did in a fancy place like this. But there was one other thing that felt out of place.

…Where was everybody?

“Hello?” He paused, waiting for an answer. “Anyone here?”

The door to the office had been unlocked. And clearly this was an area for people to wait. It wasn’t Kristoph’s office, although there was a desk that looked in use. It felt like there should be someone here, a receptionist or something. But nothing stirred. He sat for another moment, wondering if maybe he should leave.

Finally, there was a noise. The jiggle of a door handle. Phoenix’s head snapped toward the sound, and toward a shape behind frosted glass. The door to an office was turning. After a moment, it swung open.

“There we go…” What looked like a giant pile of books with limbs gingerly withdrew its arm from the door handle. “Okay. Okay. I got this. I’m fine.”

And Phoenix grinned.

The pile of books began crab-walking through the doorway, pausing to push the door closed with a red-clad knee. “Okay,” the voice repeated shakily. “Okay. Almost there. I-I’m…fine…”

Phoenix stood up. “Hey, need any help—?”

“AAAAUGH!” The figure jumped, and the books began to wobble.

Quickly, Phoenix rushed forward and grabbed the other side, steading them. “Whoa! Sorry! Sorry. Sorry about that.”

“A-Ah, no, that’s my bad.” A pair of brown eyes, and two brown spikes of hair, peered around the books. “I didn’t drop any, did I?”

“I think you’re okay,” Phoenix said.

A nod. “Good! Right. Okay, yeah, sorry, um, I will help you in just a second, sir.” And with that he leaned back, took a deep breath, and made an awkward, sideways dash toward the bookshelf.

“Uh wait, you don’t need to—”

Thunk

He knocked sideways into the bookshelf, and after a moment of regaining his balance, lowered the pile onto the floor. He took a moment, sort of waving his arms around the pile as if he were going to shelve them just as quickly, before spinning around and letting out a breath.

“Sorry about that, sir. I’m Apollo Justice. How can I help you?”

Small, red suit, hair protruding from the front. Hands settling on his hips. He looked a little out of breath from carrying those books, but otherwise, Apollo Justice appeared entirely unchanged.

Except…

Phoenix frowned, scanning him over. No, there was something different, but he couldn’t quite place it. Something small. Something subtle. But something certainly felt out of place. Ah well, he’d find it eventually…

“Uh, hi,” he said. “I was looking to speak with Mr. Gavin?”

“Right, of course,” Apollo said. “Uh, but he’s a little busy right now. We’re actually in the middle of a trial, so I don’t think we’re going to be able to pick up a new case for at least a few more days.” A pause. “Or, two more days at the least. Y'know.”

“Oh! No, I’m not looking for an attorney.”

Apollo’s eyebrows creased. “Well, this is an attorney’s office, so if you’re looking for some other service…”

“Actually,” and Phoenix flashed his badge, “I’m an attorney too.”

Apollo blinked at it. “Oh! Okay, that makes sense. Mostly.” He dropped his arms, and turned back toward the books, pushing them out of the way of a smaller cabinet Phoenix hadn’t noticed. “We don’t usually have other attorneys just dropping in. So what brings you here, Mr…?”

“Uh, Wright. Phoenix Wright. And I was actually hoping to…give someone my resume?”

Apollo’s head snapped back up. “…you’re looking for a job?”

“Yeah, I was hoping to ask Mr. Gavin about it,” he said. “I’m not, uh, licensed in this area, but I was hoping to maybe do something more on the ‘assistant’ side of things.”

Apollo absentmindedly fidgeted with his own badge as he looked Phoenix over. “Well, I had been telling Mr. Gavin we should hire someone else to help out around the office,” he muttered, more to himself than Phoenix. “I mean, I’d rather not be doing all the filing forever…” He nodded to himself. “Okay. Mr. Gavin had to run out, but I can give him your resume when he gets back. Or, if you can wait around for a little, he should get back within the hour. Those couches are pretty comfortable.”

“…right. Thanks.” Apollo had turned back toward the cabinet, rifling through, so Phoenix backed back toward the couch.

He sat in silence, watching as Apollo started shelving the books he’d been carrying earlier. Apollo worked quickly, mouthing book titles to himself, screwing up his face, and then shoving the book into its place. He hadn't realized until just now how much he'd missed Apollo. It almost felt nostalgic, in an unsettling sort of way.

Apollo made it about halfway through the pile before pausing. He craned his neck back, toward the top of the bookshelf. “…shoot…”

“Need any help—?”

“I-I’m fine, sir, no need to worry,” Apollo said, standing up on his tiptoes. “I can…uh…” There was a pause, as Apollo bit his lip.

“…you sure?”

“I’m fine! Uh…” He grabbed a rolling chair, dragged it over, and climbed on top. “There! See?” The chair wobbled, and Apollo quickly stumbled down. “Not a—not a problem.”

Phoenix gave a little applause, and Apollo sighed. Then, with a shake of his head, he said, “So, what makes you want to do the ‘dangerous’ task of being an attorney’s assistant?” he asked, plopping down on the chair. “Since you have an attorney’s badge, I’d figure you’d want to be, y’know, a real attorney rather than shelving books.” Then under his breath, “I know I would…”

Well, he’s got me there, Phoenix thought. I guess I need to be careful what I say around Apollo in particular. Though I wonder if he ever figured out his powers of perception without me… “Yeah, well, I’m not actually licensed on the west coast and Where is your bracelet?!”

“Huh?”

It’d slipped out the moment he noticed. He’d finally found the source of that nagging feeling that something was off.

Apollo, for his part, rubbed sheepishly as his bare wrist. “Oh, yeah, Mr. Gavin says it’s unprofessional to wear bulky jewelry at work, so I’m not really allowed to—” He froze. “…how…do you know about my bracelet?”

…well, shit. “What do you mean?” he asked. “It, uh—” Think of a lie! He doesn’t have his bracelet on, he won’t know! “You were wearing a bracelet in some photos I saw. When I was looking up Gavin’s law office.”

 “…was I?”

I don’t know, I hope you were!

Apollo frowned, rubbing at the back of his neck, bare wrist all the more noticeable. “Well, still, that’s a weird thing to notice about a guy. Isn’t it?” he asked, leaning back against the back of the seat.

“Well, uh, I-I, uh…” Yeah, it’s a weird thing to notice. “It just stuck out to me is all. Since, uh…” Think of something. Anything! “…it looks…just like another one I’d seen.”

There was a heavy pause. Immediately, Phoenix knew he said something he shouldn’t. But Apollo simply stared at him, frozen in place. “…really?” he asked. “Just like my bracelet?”

“Yeah, uh…” Phoenix coughed. “It was a while ago, so I don’t really remember that well…”

“Do you remember where?” Apollo asked, on his feet. “Or who was wearing it?” He moved across the room, almost right up to Phoenix. “Was it a man or a woman? Old or young?”

“Heh, uh, you sure are asking a lot of questions,” Phoenix said. “Listen, I haven’t seen that bracelet in a while—”

“Wait!” Phoenix flinched, but Apollo didn’t seem to notice the volume spike as he dashed across the room to a desk, the only one that was covered in files. He popped open a drawer, and fished out something large and gold. “Here’s my bracelet, does it jog your memory at all?”

“And what does that have to do with shelving books, I wonder?”

Both Apollo and Phoenix jumped, Apollo’s bracelet tumbling from his hand. Phoenix turned.

Kristoph Gavin stood in the doorway, arms crossed, a smug smile on his face as he watched Apollo grab at the bracelet and sputter. “M-M-M-Mr. Gavin I didn’t see you come in—”

“I’d imagine not,” he said, shaking his head in amusement. “Otherwise, I’m sure you’d at least pretend to be doing something productive.”

“That—I—uh—” Apollo shoved his bracelet into his pocket, straightening his back. “Mr. Gavin!!”

“You don’t need to shout, Justice, we are inside—”

“W-We have a job applicant!” Apollo quickly motioned toward Phoenix.

Finally, Kristoph’s eyes locked onto Phoenix’s. Phoenix stared back, poker face in full force, trying to ignore a wave of nausea. “Afternoon, Mr. Gavin,” Phoenix said. “I heard you’re the best defense attorney around.”

“You’ve heard correctly,” Kristoph said, looking Phoenix over curiously. “And who might you be?”

“This is Phoenix Wright!” Apollo chimed in, maybe a few decibels louder than he meant to. “He’s here to ask you about applying for a job—”

“You know, it’s odd, I don’t recall asking you, Justice,” Kristoph replied with a calm smile, and Apollo’s mouth quickly snapped shut.

Phoenix quickly jumped in. “I’m here to apply for a job,” he said. “I have my resume here with me. I’m just looking for something small. Like an assistant, or a paralegal.”

“Is that right?” He cocked his head a bit, eyes flicking toward Phoenix’s badge. Phoenix tried not to shift under the cold, calculating gaze.

After a moment, Apollo chimed in again. “We were talking about this the other day,” he said. “A-About hiring someone else. Since I’m starting to take on actual cases, and you’re busy with your own, it’d be easier if I wasn’t still doing all the administrative things that you’re too busy to get to, right?”

Kristoph glanced back down at Apollo. “I remember you saying something along those lines,” he said.

“And he’s a defense attorney!” Apollo added. “He’s just not licensed in this region. So he already knows plenty about law offices. Right, Mr. Wright?”

“Right.” Phoenix flashed his badge again. “I wouldn’t need that much training. I already know plenty about running a law office. I’m just looking for something small.”

Kristoph glanced between the two of them. “I am a very busy man,” he said. “I don’t know if I’d have the time to—”

“I can interview him!” Apollo said. “If, uh, if that’s what you were about to say. And I can train him, or whatever else you’d need.”

And I can walk him, and feed him, and clean up after him, and…

Phoenix shook that thought from his head. He stood up straight, hoping he looked professional rather than nauseous. Apollo stood next to him, fists at his side and practically vibrating with nerves.

After a moment of thinking, Kristoph sighed. “We’ll discuss this later,” he said, turning and walking toward the door to his office. “I have a case to prepare, and you have books to shelve, Justice.”

His stomach sank. He could see Apollo wilt out of the corner of his eye. “M-Mr. Gavin…”

“And Wright, was it?” he added, pausing in the doorway. “Leave your resume on Justice’s desk.” And the door shut behind him.

Chapter Text

“So what assets do you think you can bring to Gavin Law Offices?”

It had taken a few days for Apollo to call him. Phoenix had followed Kristoph’s case closely, but nothing about it stuck out to him. Names he didn’t recognize, cases that he was uninvolved in. He didn’t even recognize the prosecutor’s name (Who in the hell was Jacque Portsman? Sounded like an asshole). Of course the world continued on without him, and that included murders. At least Kristoph seemed to have the case handled.

Apollo had been interviewing him for the past twenty minutes, about legal jargon and strengths and weaknesses. Times when he was a leader, times when he worked well with others to get something done. Phoenix had to be careful with his anecdotes, though Apollo's bare wrist gave him that spark of confidence he needed to say juuuuust enough.

“Assets, huh?” Phoenix said, leaning back in his seat. “Well, I know plenty about running a law office. I’ve worked in three separate law-firms, after all.” (2.5, maybe, but he’d count the Agency.) “I’m pretty good at researching cases, if either of you would need help with preparations before a trial. And I know plenty about law, so I don’t really need any special…uh…”

He trailed off for a moment. Apollo looked deep in thought, but he wasn’t really focused on Phoenix. His eyes had glazed over for a moment, drifting toward his bare wrist. That, incidentally, had also been happening off-and-on for the past twenty minutes. After a moment, Phoenix said, “You alright there, ‘Pollo?”

“Huh? What?” His head jerked back up. “Sorry! Sorry. I’m fine. I was listening. Uh…you’re organized, and good at law, and…” He paused, brows furrowing.

Phoenix tried to force down a laugh. “Yeah, I think that about covers it.”

“R-Right.” Apollo gave a sharp nod, crossing his arms. “Well. You seem to know what you’re talking about. And your references talked highly of you, even if they were a bit, uh, unconventional.”

"Glad to hear it." (Thank god he reached Gumshoe and Godot before Apollo called them.)

Apollo considered him for another moment, frowning at some internal debate. “Okay,” he said, “I have some files that need to be organized since we just finished a trial. We can start you with that as a test-run, I guess, and I can find you all the paperwork you’d need.”

Phoenix sat up straighter. “Does that mean I’m hired?”

“Test run,” Apollo repeated. “Think of this as part of the interview, I guess. You’d be working directly under me, since Mr. Gavin is so busy, and between cases you’ll probably just be helping me get the paperwork reorganized and figure out all the invoices and whatnot.”

“Alright. I can handle that,” he said. “What about during cases? Will I be assisting you?”

Apollo stiffened a moment. “Uh, w-well, that’s gonna depend on if I’m heading any cases, I guess,” he said, trying his best not to wilt. “Most people are here for Mr. Gavin, so during a case, we’d both defer to him.”

Phoenix frowned. “You don’t have your own cases?”

“Well, I have had cases before,” he said. “But most people are here requesting Mr. Gavin. After all, he’s the famous one. I’m just the…”

A pause. Phoenix watched as Apollo debated his words for a moment. After a second, he shook his head. “A-Anyway, we’ll both assist Mr. Gavin as needed,” he finished, turning away quickly.

“Right.” The idea of assisting Kristoph with anything made him a bit queasy, but at least he could keep a closer eye on him. And it wasn’t like Kristoph cheated on all his cases, or defended just anyone who wandered into the Gavin Law Offices. He was meticulous, calculating, and honestly a damn good lawyer in his own right.

“Anyway, to start—” A box slammed onto Apollo’s desk, and Phoenix almost vaulted backward out of his seat.

“Wh—Wha—”

“Here you go, Mr. Wright!” Apollo grinned at him over the massive, overstuffed box of what appeared to be files. “I can show you where these go! Oh, and do you think you can pick up lunch for us at noon?”

///

To-Do List

• Pick up coffee
• Alphabetize old case files
• Locate and file all invoices for the last year
• (Investigate Kristoph’s office)
• Quit job
• Suffer
• Die

///

“I think I’m Apollo’s Apollo.”

“That doesn’t mean anything to me,” Godot said, handing him some coffee mugs. “These aren’t to-go cups. Bring them back later.”

“Yeah, sure.”

He’d been ‘interviewing’ for a few days at the Gavin Law Offices, and by interviewing, he meant ‘doing hard labor’. Filing, organizing, running Apollo and Kristoph coffee. He’d even plunged the toilet once.

(He didn’t want to say it was Apollo work, but damn it, this was Apollo work!)

He stacked the coffee on a tray, and headed out toward the office. The office…? He grimaced, shaking his head. No, Gavin Law Offices were not The Office and never would be The Office. No matter how long he was away from home, he…

It occurred to him then, about midstep, that it was nearing a month. One whole month of this non-existence. The air was starting to get colder, and the steam from the coffee mugs filled the air. He walked quickly, pulling the tray closer to his chest to stave off the cold. Then, rounding a corner, he entered the office.

“Morning, Mr. Wri—Are those just coffee mugs?”

Phoenix grinned. “What do you mean?” he asked, grabbing one and setting it in front of Apollo.

“Where did you…?” Apollo stared down the mug, before sighing. “Whatever. Thanks, uh—” A cough. “Thanks, Phoenix.”

Neither of them moved for what felt like a solid minute. “……did you just—”

“It is weird, isn’t it!” Apollo said, slamming his mug to the desk with a scowl. “Mr. Gavin kept saying I was overthinking it. ‘You’re his boss, call him whatever you want.’ But it just sounds weird. Because you’re Mr. Gavin’s age, and you’ve probably been a lawyer longer than me anyway.” He sipped angrily at his coffee, before grimacing. “Do you—?”

“Cream and sugar.” Phoenix tossed them onto the desk. “And I don’t care what you call me.” Untrue, but Apollo wouldn’t know that. “Mr. Wright is fine, and so is Phoenix.”

Apollo just stared down his mug. “Yeah, sure…”

The door swung open. Phoenix jumped, glancing over his shoulder with as convincing a smile as he could. “Morning, Mr. Gavin. I brought your coffee.”

“Hmm?” Kristoph glanced over at him, removing a rather nice jacket as he readjusted a small pink box under his arm. “Oh, yes, thank you, Wright.” He draped the jacket over his arm, and grabbed his coffee, pausing for a moment when he realized it was a mug. “…did you bring this from home?”

“No, just a really weird coffee shop.”

“Hmm.” He shrugged, taking a sip. “Well, thank you anyway.” He shifted, tossing the pink box onto Apollo’s desk. “On that note; Justice, distribute these how you’d like.”

Apollo perked up. “You stopped at the bakery?” he asked, grinning as he pulled the lid open. “What’s the occasion?”

“Can’t I just be in a good mood?” he asked, fixing his glasses with a chuckle as he started toward his office. “Why must my generosity always be questioned?”

Apollo gave a sheepish laugh. “Sorry, Mr. Gavin.”

“I mean, I suppose if we need something to celebrate, we’ve managed to keep our new hire on for the full week,” he said, motioning toward Phoenix. “That’s something, isn’t it?”

Phoenix forced a smile at that. It was odd, though, straining for a hint of malice when there didn’t seem to be any. After all, Kristoph had no reason to hate him. Kristoph wasn’t trying to trick him. Kristoph wasn’t wheedling his way into Phoenix’s life to keep tabs on him.

No, that was Phoenix’s job now.

“Oh, and we have a potential client today,” Kristoph continued, taking another drink. “Speaking of which, I expect you both to be on your best behavior.” He glanced over at Apollo again. “In particular, if we could keep the noise-volume to a minimum, Justice? I know you’re…challenged in that department.”

Apollo flushed bright red, smile falling away as he lowered the lid to the pastry box. “O-Oh, yes, sorry sir, I’ll keep it down.”

“See to it that you do.” And he strode into his office without another word.

Apollo watched as he disappeared, eyes focused on Kristoph's door as it shut. And there was something to Apollo's eyes, something Phoenix couldn't place. Something unrecognizable, but familiar.

“…you alright, Apollo?”

Apollo blinked, back straightening. “What?” he snapped. “Don’t you have work to do?”

“…not until you give me some,” Phoenix answered.

A wilt. “O-Oh. Right. Sorry.” He shifted, opening the pink box to reveal a half dozen tiny cookies. “…at least this means he’s in a good mood,” Apollo mumbled. Then, “Here, Mr. Wright, you can have half.”

“Thanks…?” The cookies honestly looked more like decorations than food, but Apollo popped the whole thing in his mouth without any concern, so Phoenix grabbed one too. And with a “Come on, Mr. Wright,” and the two of them headed toward the large filing cabinet that Phoenix was growing to be intimately familiar with.

They worked in silence for a bit, organizing papers and alphabetizing old case files as they drank and ate through their morning snacks. Apollo hardly glanced up when an older gentleman entered the office. “Thank you for coming to Gavin Law Offices Mr. Gavin is in his office he’s expecting you have a good day.”

The man frowned at him. “Uh, thanks,” he said, and walked on past into Kristoph’s office.

“…it looks like we may be doing more than just paperwork soon,” Phoenix said, trying his best to sound cheery as he nudged Apollo.

Apollo jumped a bit at the touch, then shut his eyes and took a deep breath. “I guess,” he muttered, leaning his head back. “Anything would be better than more filing.”

Phoenix gave him what he hoped was an encouraging smile. Apollo gave him a half-smile back, though it didn’t really reach his eyes. After a moment, he spoke up. “…Hey, Mr. Wright?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I…” Apollo paused, biting his lip. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure. What do you need?”

“Well…I mean…” He rubbed absentmindedly at his bare wrist. “It’s about what we’d been talking about the other day. About…”

“About your bracelet?”

“Yeah. I…mm…” He reached over, opening a drawer on his desk. “You said you’d seen one like it before. I was wondering if you remembered more about the person. Y-Y’know, just out of morbid curiosity.”

Apollo looked nervous as he set the bracelet on the cabinet in front of them. “It’s fine if you don’t,” he added softly.  “Don’t feel bad about it. I just thought…I dunno, maybe something stuck out to you about them.”

Phoenix swallowed, staring down at the familiar gold band. He really didn’t want to lie to Apollo about this. It was hard enough in real life waiting for Thalassa to let him say something. (Half of him wondered if maybe she were just waiting for Trucy to turn eighteen to get out of child-support. He hated that half of himself.)

“…there was a Borginian folk singer,” he said. Apollo perked up, eyes intense. It almost reminded him of Apollo’s perception abilities. He continued, trying to ignore the stare. “Lamiroir. She toured in America for a bit with Kristoph’s younger brother.”

“MR. GAVIN HAS A—” He cut himself off, clapping a hand over his mouth. He looked up toward Kristoph’s door, holding his breath. When nothing stirred behind the frosted glass, he uncovered his mouth. “Mr. Gavin has a brother???” he whispered fiercely.

“Klavier,” Phoenix told him. “Prosecutor-slash-rock-star. The Gavinners are actually kind of famous if you listen to the radio.”

Apollo snorted. “Who listens to the radio?” he muttered. Then, “Mr. Gavin has a brother… Why have I never heard of him?”

“They’re not, uh, close,” Phoenix said. “Kind of estranged, actually.”

“A brother…” Apollo repeated again, before shaking his head. “Anyway, you said there was a woman touring with him that had a bracelet like mine.”

“That is correct.”

“How old was she? Was she my age? Older? Younger?”

“Early forties I think,” Phoenix said. “Or late thirties.” She was forty-one, but Phoenix wasn’t supposed to know that.

'Forties,' Apollo mouthed, tapping some quick math on his fingers as he mumbled. “Okay. Forties. That’s—That’s fine. That’s good! That’s…that’s really good.” He fiddled with the bracelet excitedly. “So Mr. Gavin’s brother knows someone with my bracelet…I guess I could—”

The Steel Samurai Theme burst from Phoenix’s pocket. Both men jumped, and Phoenix quickly scrambled for his phone. “Jesus—”

“Mr. Wright, you’re not supposed to answer calls at work…”

“I-I know, just let me…” He looked at the ID.

Detective Gumshoe

That was odd. “…sorry, let me just answer this real quick.”

He clicked the answer button, ignoring Apollo’s squawk of protest. “Hello? Detective Gumshoe? Is everything alright?”

“Hey pal—!”

“—Mr. Wright—”

“—remember how we—”

“—turn on the TV—”

“—keeping an eye on—”

“—‘s really important—”

“Guys. Guys!” Phoenix plugged one ear, turning away from Apollo. “One at a time, please! What’s going on?”

“Sorry,” Kay’s voice said, before Gumshoe yanked the phone.

“Hey pal! Remember how we were gonna keep an eye on Trucy Johnson?”

The pit in his stomach was immediate. “…y-yeah?”

“You should turn on the news,” came Kay’s muffled voice. “Like right now. Like. Right now.”

“Like right now, pal.”

He lowered the phone, heart beginning to pound. “…H-Hey Apollo, do we have a TV in here?”

Apollo frowned. “Mr. Wright, we’re working, we can’t just—”

“Apollo, please, I need to check the news.”

“But…I…” Apollo floundered a moment, looking from him to the far corner of the room. “I-I mean, I can’t just…”

Phoenix turned and dashed over to where Apollo was looking. (“Wh—Hey! Mr. Wright!!”) Sure enough, there was a small television against the wall, behind a shelf and out of the way. Phoenix quickly turned it on, relieved to see it was already on the local news.

“—signs of a struggle,” came the reporter’s voice, overlaying over some police tape behind a weirdly familiar building. “The manhunt for the teenage suspect is still ongoing at this time. The police request any information on the girl’s identity be reported as soon as possible.”

“Never actually got her real name,” said a man, and the words ‘Manny Guire, suspect’s manager’ appeared beneath. “Only ever used her stage name around anyone. ‘The All-Seeing Eye’.” A laugh, as an image of a girl appeared on the screen. “And her lovely assistant, Mr. Hat.”

“…son of a bitch.”

Chapter Text

“Trucy Johnson ran away last night.” Kay's voice sounded far off. “Right around the same time as the murder at the Wonder Bar.”

“We weren’t sure if they were connected, but Kay thought there were a lot of similarities going on,” Gumshoe said. “Thought we should maybe see what you thought.”

“I mean, it can’t be a coincidence, right? Do you know what’s going on? Have you seen her?”

“C-Can I call you guys back?” Phoenix asked. “Please?”

“Oh.” Gumshoe almost sounded disappointed. “Sure thing, pal. Call us back when you can.” He hung up.

Phoenix sat on his knees in front of the screen, watching the news cycle through a few more images of the Wonder Bar. Kay was right, there were an awful lot of similarities. Too many similarities.

The young suspect flashed across the screen again. A young woman, late teens. Blue top hat and cape, and an ornate masquerade mask covering most of her face. She was grinning ear to ear, diamond broach sparkling on her chest. A pair of large, blue-and-pink bloomers dangled in her hand.

“Too old for magic my ass,” he mumbled, running a hand through his hair. “Son of a bitch…”

“Mr. Wright?”

His head snapped toward the sound. He’d forgotten about Apollo. Apollo stood behind him, arms crossed, looking concerned. “Are you alright, Mr. Wright? You look…upset.”

“Y-Yeah, I just…”

Apollo looked over to the screen a moment, watching intently. A shadow passed over his face. “You didn’t…know the victim there, did you?”

Phoenix took a steading breath. “No,” he said. “But I do know for a fact that girl isn’t the culprit.”

Apollo blinked, looking from him to the screen and back. “That magician girl?”

“She’s not a murderer,” Phoenix said, standing to his feet and clicking off the TV. Then, he gave Apollo a grin. “Well, looks like we’ll have a bit more work on our hands, huh?”

“Wh—Huh—The magician girl?!” he asked, stepping back. “Since when are we taking on that case? Mr. Gavin already said—”

“That girl is not a murderer,” Phoenix said firmly. “We need to take on this case.”

“Alright, but we’re not—”

“I need to take on this case, Apollo.”

Apollo stopped a moment, eyes searching Phoenix’s face. After a moment, he groaned. “Alright, I get it. Clearly this is some sort of personal thing. But I really don’t think this is the kind of case that Mr. Gavin—”

The door opened behind them. They both turned, to see Kristoph walking the man to the door. “Thank you, thank you Mr. Gavin” the man was saying.

“Of course. Thank you,” Kristoph countered. “I will make sure your wife is cleared of any wrongdoing. You have nothing to worry about, Mr. Harren.”

“Yes, yes, thank you. I look forward to seeing you in action.” The man nodded and strode out the door, sending Phoenix and Apollo a curious glance as he passed.

Kristoph watched the door closed, polite smile fading from his face as his new client disappeared. Nervously, Apollo straightened his back and stepped forward. “Mr. Gavin! Uh, so we were just watching the news, and we couldn't help but notice there was this case about—”

“You know, it’s odd, Justice,” Kristoph interrupted, voice soft. “I could have sworn that I’d asked you to do one thing. One thing, Justice.” Something cold flashed in his eyes. “And yet, once again, here you are, shouting in the middle of my office and being a general nuisance…”

Apollo froze like a deer in headlights. “I-I-I—Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“Sorry implies change,” Kristoph replied, flipping his bangs with a bemused smile. “At this point, I doubt you capable of the emotion.” Then quieter, “Though if you need me to make you sorry, I’m sure I could manage something.”

There was a moment of genuine fear on Apollo’s face. He stood there, motionless, for what felt like a full minute before Phoenix cleared his throat.

“That’s my fault, Mr. Gavin,” he managed, stepping forward, and both Apollo and Kristoph jumped.

“Good lord, I think I need to tie a bell to you,” Kristoph said, shaking his head as Apollo edged away slightly. “I’m still not used to having so many people working in my office, I almost forgot you were here.” He leaned back a bit against a desk, crossing his arms. “Now, what was it the two of you were so excited about just now? Did I hear right that you were watching TV while working?”

Phoenix swallowed. At least Apollo seemed to have relaxed a touch. “…there was a case on TV,” he said. “A murder.”

A look of recognition passed over his face. “Ah yes, I think I saw something about it on the local news,” Kristoph murmured, adjusting his glasses. “They’re looking for a young girl, correct?”

“We should take that case.”

Kristoph paused, for once his cool smile giving way to confusion. “Pardon?”

“That girl, I don’t think she’s a murderer,” Phoenix said. “We’re defense attorneys. Isn’t it our job to defend innocents?”

Kristoph stared at him a moment, looking genuinely perplexed. “…I…suppose?” he said. “But that being said, we don’t usually…seek out these cases. The Gavin Law Offices are well known. When someone needs my defense, they usually seek me out first. Case in point…” and he motioned toward the door.

“But it’s not like you never do it,” Phoenix countered. “You’ve sought out cases before.”

“I mean, certainly, but only if the case attracts me,” he said. “There has to be something interesting about the case. High profile, famous defendant, something more than ‘local talent act kills a man’.” He shrugged, shaking his head, before readjusting his glasses again. “Why would this case matter to me in the slightest?”

Movement out of the corner of his eye. He glanced over at Apollo, who was watching Kristoph anxiously and…weirdly poking at the bridge of his nose. Phoenix frowned. Why was he doing that? It looked out of place on him. Not like he was thinking, more like he was adjusting glasses that didn’t…

…adjusting glasses…

He quickly looked back toward Kristoph, just in time to see him lower his hand.

Apollo’s mirroring him. He looked again as Apollo’s hand fell back to his side. Of course! Apollo’s powers didn’t come from his bracelet. It came from him! Thinking back, didn’t Apollo do one of Phoenix’s nervous tics every time Phoenix had lied to him? Even without realizing, the human lie-detector reacted.

Kristoph shook his head, continuing on, oblivious to the shock in Phoenix's eyes. “And even if I did care about this case, I do have a new client. I can’t exactly be two places at once, can I?”

Then Kristoph was lying. He was interested in the case. He knew who Trucy was. Of course he knew who Trucy was. He was still keeping tabs on everything to do with Shadi Enigmar. He'd looked at Trucy's case and made the conscious decision to leave it alone.

Phoenix supposed that made sense. The less Kristoph interacted with Trucy, the safer for him. And wow, now that Phoenix thought about it, he really didn’t want Kristoph himself having anything to do with Trucy’s case, either. Competent lawyer or not, Kristoph likely wouldn’t mind having another loose end disappear if it came down to it.

That being said, Kristoph wasn’t the lawyer Phoenix was looking for.

“What about Apollo?”

Kristoph looked taken aback a moment. “…what about him?” he asked, looking at Apollo, who shrunk under Kristoph’s glance.

“I’m not a licensed attorney,” Phoenix said. “And you’re busy with your own case. But Apollo could do it.”

“Could he?” Kristoph asked, frowning over Apollo, who was firmly avoiding eye contact. “That seems…debatable.”

Phoenix narrowed his eyes. “He’s a competent attorney,” he said, doing his best not to sound as irritated as he felt. “He’s won plenty of cases already. There’s a reason I’m here, and that’s so Apollo doesn’t need to sit around organizing files all day when you’re doing your own work. He’s never going to get anywhere unless you let him.”

“Is that right?” Kristoph’s glasses gleamed a moment, giving an eerie, ghostly glare to his smile. “Well, what do you think about this, Apollo?”

There was something about the clipped, quiet way Kristoph said Apollo’s name that made every hair on Phoenix's neck stand on end. Apollo seemed to think so too, with the way he swallowed as he glanced up toward them. “W-What do you mean?” he asked with a nervous laugh.

“Wright seems to be putting an awful lot of words into your mouth,” he said, leaning forward almost conspiratorially. “Do you even want to take this case?”

Apollo swallowed. “Well, uh…”

“And remember,” he added, smiling, “that I won’t be there to hold your hand the whole time. You'd be doing this case all on your own. And I think we both remember how that went last time, haven't we?”

Last time?

“R…Right,” Apollo mumbled, shrinking a bit more under the two of their gazes. Phoenix never remembered seeing him look so small.

One of the most rewarding things about taking Apollo under his wing was watching him grow. Yes, Apollo could be a little high strung, a little anxious. But he was also determined and passionate and brave. Every case he took on gave him just a bit more confidence, and it comforted Phoenix to know that someday Apollo would blow him out of the water.

And looking at Apollo now, he somehow knew that Kristoph did not feel the same way.

“I don’t think Apollo needs handholding,” Phoenix said, knuckles turning white. Immediately, Apollo’s head snapped toward him. “Sure he’s young, but he’s a smart kid.” He forced a grin. “I think you’d be surprised the kinds of things he can accomplish on his own, Kristoph.”

A flash of annoyance. Only then did Phoenix realize his mistake. “M-Mr. Gavin,” he corrected lamely.

“You—”

“I think I can take this case.”

The two of them turned toward Apollo. He shifted nervously, suddenly the center of attention again. “I mean, there’s three of us now,” he said, tugging at his tie and glancing around again. “I might as well start pulling my own weight. If that’s…okay with you, Mr. Gavin…?” It ended in a lilt, as Apollo risked a glance toward Kristoph.

Kristoph considered the two of them, something cold in those icy blue eyes. But then he smiled. “Well, if you think you can handle it,” he said, crossing his arms. “You’ll need the girl to request your services first.”

Apollo’s whole body went slack with relief. “Y…Yeah!" he said. "Alright. I can…I can handle that.”

“If you can find her, of course,” Gavin added brightly. “But you just seem so confident, Justice, I’m sure it will be a snap.”

Apollo’s smile drooped a bit. “…r…r-right…”

Gavin turned toward his office. “Now if you two will excuse me, I have my own trial to prepare for.” He smiled at them with a cold, mocking confidence in his eyes. “I look forward to seeing your work, Justice.” And he closed the door.

Phoenix stared after him, hoping the seething hate on his face didn’t show, before turning and dialing his phone.

Brring. Brrr— “…Hey pal.”

“Hey. How fast can you two meet me at the Wonder Bar?”

Chapter Text

It was cold outside the Wonder Bar. Weirdly colder than the rest of town, Phoenix thought, rubbing his arms as his breath curled in front of him.

The Wonder Bar was a small joint, not terribly far from the Agency. Kind of a dive-y sort of place. Not exactly clean, not exactly nice, but plenty of character. It was in that odd, liminal space between college town and the rest of the city, where it wasn’t so unusual to see university students alongside businessmen finishing their nine-to-five. Quiet, out of the way, but always drawing some sort of crowd.

Today, that crowd just happened to be police.

“Listen, pal, I get I’m not a detective, but if we could just take a look around for a sec—”

“I’m sorry, sir, but orders are orders,” said the police officer. “We can’t just have people walking through the building. We’re on lockdown.”

There seemed to be a three-person stand-down in front of the alley next to the bar, which had been taped off with police tape. Phoenix made a beeline that way, Apollo scurrying to keep up.

“Sure, pal, but we’re on a case.”

“And it’s probably related to your case anyway!”

“Can’t you make an exception or somethin'?”

“No!” the poor man whined. “I really can’t! Now if you two could please…”

“Gumshoe!” Phoenix called out. “Kay!”

The two looked up at him, Gumshoe looking dower. “Hey Mr. Wright! Can you tell this little punk I’m here on a case?”

“We’re official investigators!” Kay said, flourishing a small business card in the disgruntled policeman’s face. “Gumshoe Investigations, Professional PIs.”

“Yeah! We’re official! We’re looking for a missing girl, and you’re, uh, obstructing us.”

The policeman nervously took the card. “Y-Yes, I get that, but you’re not sanctioned to enter the crime scene while we’re—this is just the symbol of the Yatagarasu.”

“That would be the wrong business card then~!” Kay swiped the card and exchanged it for a new one as the man blinked in confusion. “There, see? Gummy and Faraday, to make your problems go away!” She did some jazz hands.

“Ooo, that’s a good one, pal.”

“You like it? I just thought of it.”

“It’s very good,” the policeman admitted. “But I still can’t allow you past this point.”

Gumshoe groaned, scowling as he stomped over toward Phoenix and Apollo. “Good to see you, Mr. Wright,” he said. “Who’s your friend here?”

“Oh. Detective Gumshoe, this is Apollo Justice, my…uh…” He trailed off. What was Apollo exactly?

Apollo seemed unsure too. “I’m your boss, I guess?” he said, scratching his head with a sheepish smile. “I mean, technically Mr. Gavin is your boss, but I’m your…other boss. Your lesser boss.” He held out his hand. “Nice to meet you, Detective Gumshoe!”

“I didn’t know you had a job, Mr. Wright!” Kay said with a grin. Then she sniffled. “My little baby is growing up so fast, Gummy.”

“Wh…How old are you again, Mr. Wright?” Apollo asked out of the corner of his mouth.

“Just ignore her,” Phoenix said with a snort, as Gumshoe moved forward and clasped Apollo’s hand.

“Dick Gumshoe, Private Investigator,” he said. “I think you actually called a bit ago. As Mr. Wright’s reference?”

“O-Oh yeah!” Apollo said. Then it turned to concern. “Ohhhh, yeah, I think I remember you…”

Gumshoe motioned toward Kay. “This here is my assistant.”

“Kay Faraday, at your service. Nice to meet you, Mr. Boss.” She clapped his hand and shook it.

“You…too…” He gave Phoenix a look that said, ‘Really? This is what we’re working with?’

“So, we seem like we’ve run into a problem here, pal,” Gumshoe said, scowl returning. “I’m not with the police force, so I don’t exactly got the authority to be walking around a crime scene anymore.”

“Okay, but hear me out,” Kay said. “There’s a window over there. If one of you boosts me in—”

“Or,” Apollo interrupted quickly, looking vaguely horrified, “if you find someone with authority to investigate, they’d probably have to let you in, right? Like, I dunno, the defense attorney? Maybe?”

“Well, yeah, but where are we gonna find someone like that?” Gumshoe said.

Apollo grinned, straightening his tie and turning a bit so his badge caught the meager sunlight. “Well, that’s why me and Mr. Wright are here,” he said.

Gumshoe blinked down at the little red man standing in front of him. “…you? You’re a defense attorney?”

Apollo’s grin faded a bit. “I-I mean, yeah,” he said. “Do I not look it…?”

“He’s a pretty good attorney, too,” Phoenix said, nudging Apollo with his elbow. Apollo glanced back at him, looking more surprised than comforted. “Full-fledged lawyer at 22.”

“Huh, wouldn’t’a guessed,” Gumshoe mused, looking Apollo over. “Ah well. That certainly helps!” He turned toward the bar. “So all we gotta do is tell them that we got the suspect’s lawyer out here, and we’re good to—”

CRACK

Gumshoe screamed, jumping to the side as something cracked against his shoulder.

“And just what are you fools doing loitering outside my crime scene?”

Oohhhhhh no… Phoenix turned.

Franziska von Karma glared at the group of them, cold anger on her face as she turned her whip over in her hand. And oh boy, was Phoenix not excited to see her.

Her hair was drastically shorter, barely coming past her ears. She wore dress pants now, forgoing her usual skirt. But her eyes were the same steely-gray glare, and her familiar whip still hung from her hands. And that aura of barely-contained rage that always hung about her choked the air.

“Ah, if it isn’t the foolish ex-detective,” she muttered with a smirk. “Where is your little friend?”

Kay peaked out from behind Gumshoe. “Uh, hi, Ms. von Karma!”

A pause. “Kay Faraday,” she greeted with a cold nod. “Now, Scruffy, can I ask what you are doing waltzing around outside of my perfect crime scene? I’m quite busy, and you are quite unwelcome here.”

“M-Ms. von Karma, sir, I didn’t realize you were gonna be the prosecutor, sir,” Gumshoe squeaked.

“With that brain of yours, I doubt you realize many things,” she said. “Now, kindly vacate the premises. There is too much work to do without foolish fools foolishly loitering about where they don’t belong.”

“Actually, Ms. von Karma, we’re supposed to be here!” Kay said. “Look, we even brought our own defense attorney and—”

“Ms. von Karma.”

Several pairs of eyes snapped toward Apollo. Apollo simply stared at Franziska, eyes wide, an odd expression on his face. Shock, apprehension. Fear. Anger.

“Hmm?” She glanced over Apollo, a cold recognition clouding her features. “I feel as though I remember you. But I try not to memorize the names of the bugs I crush under my heels.” And she gave him a cruel grin.

Did…Apollo know Franziska? He definitely didn’t in real life. Phoenix racked his brain, trying to remember all the details he’d read up on Apollo’s cases. He had glanced them over before, but most of them weren’t even related to the cases he’d taken at the Agency. Maybe he should look them over again.

“Anyway, I assume you fools have a letter of request from the defendant?”

Gumshoe frowned at her. “A what?”

“A letter of request,” Franziska repeated, smirking again. “Something giving you the authority to be a part of this investigation. Oh! But I suppose you wouldn’t have one of those, would you, since our suspect has gone mysteriously missing.”

“W-Well…” Gumshoe looked over toward Phoenix. “…do we have one of those, Mr.—?”

CRACK

Gumshoe yelped as Franziska whipped him again. “Only a foolish fool would try to enter a crime scene with no authority,” she snapped. “Now, unless you have somehow been hired by our mysteriously vanishing defendant, I suggest you leave. Now. Immediately.”

“B-But—”

CRACK

 “I will not repeat myself!”

“Y-Y-Y-Yes sir!” Gumshoe grabbed Kay’s shoulders and maneuvered the two of them out of the way. Phoenix took a few steps back as well, eying Franziska’s whip.

Apollo, however, didn’t move. He stood rooted to the spot, eyes locked on her face. Franziska looked back at him, hand tightening on her whip. “Do you have something to say, little man?”

“I’m not…going to lose again.” It was quiet. Barely more than a whisper.

Franziska blinked, as a smile curled on her lips. “Well then, I would recommend avoiding the courthouse while I am there.” And she brushed past him.

The rain began then, a light drizzle, almost like mist. The four of them stood there, three of them exchanging concerned glances. Apollo still hadn’t moved. His eyes were fixed forward.

“H…Hey, Apollo?” Phoenix tried. “You, uh…you alright there?”

“…I don’t know if I can do this.”

“A-Apollo?”

Apollo looked up at him, desperation in his eyes. “Mr. Wright, why do you keep going around telling everyone how great I am?” he asked. “Mr. Gavin, and your friends over there, you keep telling them how great I am and that I can do all sorts of stuff, and…” He shook his head. “We don’t even know each other that well. I’m not…I dunno, I’m not anything special. I don’t know what exactly I did to trick you into thinking otherwise, but I’m just a…” He took a breath, crossing his arms. “I’m just…me. Y’know?”

 Phoenix stared back at him. Again, he looked so small, almost folding in on himself.

“Well, what’s wrong with that?” Phoenix asked cautiously. “You’re just you? You’ve won cases before. You’re smart. You’re passionate about your job. You just have to believe in yourself a little.”

Apollo frowned, crossing his arms even tighter around himself, shutting his eyes. “Mr. Wright, I don’t want to lose again.”

Phoenix considered him for a moment. “Then don’t.”

Apollo blinked. He looked up at Phoenix. Confused, nervous. And maybe, just maybe, there was that little spark of hope that had always burnt in those brown eyes of his.

“Uhhhh, guys?”

The voice startled the two of them. They turned toward Kay. “I’m liking the pep talk, but no one’s doing anything unless we find our defendant.”

“Or get into that crime scene,” Gumshoe said, glancing over his shoulder. “We’re not gonna get anywhere unless we can get any clues. For the murder or where she went.”

Apollo’s arms fell to his sides. With a sigh, he said, “I guess that’s true. What’s our plan anyway?”

Kay frowned toward the Wonder Bar. There were still crowds of police around the building. “…alright, now hear me out…”

“Kay…”

“So, I get in through an upper floor window,” she said. “There’re some apartments next to the building that are close enough to the roof that we could probably get over into the bar. I can get up there, lower a rope—”

“C’mon, Kay, you know I’m no good at climbing,” Gumshoe protested quickly.

“Well then I’ll just pull you up and…uh…” She paused, looking Gumshoe over. “Well, I can pull Mr. Wri…” She looked at Phoenix too. A pause. “…alright, fine, but I could lift Apollo.”

Apollo stiffened. “M-Me?”

“Yeah,” she said with a grin. “You’re tiny. I could pull you up through that window easy.”

“I don’t think—”

“Yeah! It’s perfect!” She pumped a fist. “Me and Apollo can get inside, find some info, steal some evidence—”

“I am not doing that!”

“—and Gummy, you and Mr. Wright can focus on finding Trucy!”

“Who is Trucy?!”

Kay grinned, fixing her gloves. “Come on, Apollo, let’s climb through a window!”

“Wh—I—We’re not breaking into the crime scene!” he shouted, hands on his hips. “Even if I wanted to break the law today (which I don’t), I don’t have a death wish. I’ve seen what that whip can do. No thank you.”

“Then it’s settled!” Kay turned, hands on her hips. “Gummy, Mr. Wright, you two go talk to the Johnsons or her school or something, see if you can find out where she might’ve gone. Me and Apollo here are going to find what we can at the crime scene.”

“I’m not!! Breaking!! Into a crime scene!!!”

“Aw, you’re adorable.” Kay patted his head, before grabbing ahold of his hair spikes and walking off. “See you soon guys!”

“Wha—Ow—Hey—Wait—” And the two walked off down the street.

Phoenix couldn’t help but snort. “You know, I think she fits right in,” he said.

“…to what, Mr. Wright?”

“Ah, nothing.” He sighed. “Come on, Detective, let’s go find Trucy.” 

Chapter Text

“So, uh, can you tell us where you last saw Trucy, Mr. and Mrs. Johnson?”

The Johnson’s house was, in a word, incredibly boring. White walls, wood floors. Sparse decorations, mostly a few pictures of flowers. It was clean, and neat, and tidy, and dull. It was a small, two-story building, right where city ended and suburbia began. Phoenix had been half-expecting a white-picket fence, but their yard was only about five square feet of perfectly manicured grass.

The Johnsons were also rather plain. A middle-aged couple, the man’s hair beginning to add salt to the sides. A businessman and a stay-at-home wife, from what Phoenix could tell. The regular nuclear family unit, if you count Trucy.

They’d let Gumshoe and Phoenix in as soon as Gumshoe had mentioned Trucy's name. Sat the two of them down, asking them what they knew, what the police knew. They looked desperate for any new information. Gumshoe had explained who he was, and what was going on (omitting maybe a few details about how he found the job), and the two had practically thrown their wallets at him.

The Johnsons sat on a couch opposite of Phoenix and Gumshoe, drinking some tea that’d been set out on the coffee table. Mrs. Johnson looked like she hadn’t slept. Mr. Johnson kept spinning his watch around his wrist.

 “We haven’t seen her since Friday morning,” Mrs. Johnson told them. “She said she was going to study at a friend’s house after school, and maybe sleep over. But we called, and Trucy was never there at all.” Mrs. Johnson sniffled. “They say Trucy was never there at all the past few months either!”

“Apparently, Trucy gave this Marcy girl twenty bucks to tell people she was going over there to study,” Mr. Johnson said.

“Do you have any idea where she could’ve gone?” Mrs. Johnson asked. “I’m worried something happened to her. Did you see on the news there’s a—a murderer on the loose? You don’t think she could’ve been attacked, do you?”

“Don’t be silly, Jane,” Mr. Johnson told her. “Trucy doesn’t go anywhere near that area of town.”

Detective Gumshoe blanched, giving Phoenix a worried look. “Yeah, that uh…right,” he said, scratching the back of his head. "She's probably not, uh...anywhere near there, huh? Hehe..."

“Does she have any other places she likes to hang out, then?” Phoenix asked quickly.  “Is she in any clubs or after school activities? Does she, uh, perform?”

“Perform?” Mr. Johnson asked. “Perform what? She’s not in the drama club or anything of the sort. Besides, she’s a bit shy.”

“Ah. Right.” Trucy and Shy went together like chocolate and rubbing alcohol.

“Really, the only thing she does is study at her friend’s house,” Mrs. Johnson wept. “We thought it was because she wanted to get a college scholarship, but if she wasn’t studying…” She gasped. “John, you don’t think she’s doing heroin, do you?!”

Phoenix raised an eyebrow. “Why is heroin your first assumption?”

“What about gang activity?” Mr. Johnson said, brows furrowed. “You don’t think she’s in a gang, do you?”

“Or—Or maybe she’s some sort of—” in a hushed whisper, “…woman of the night?”

“Or wait.” Mr. Johnson turned toward his wife. “You don’t think…her deadbeat father has kidnapped her, do you?”

Phoenix’s eyebrows shot up. “Deadbeat…?” he repeated uncertainly.

“The man abandoned her at eight,” Mr. Johnson said. “Killed a man and ran off before the verdict could be read. Left his poor daughter to fend for herself.”

“It was horrible,” Mrs. Johnson added, looking almost in hysterics. “All over the news. He must’ve taken Trucy! I just know it! Criminals never just stop at one crime.”

To be fair, Phoenix and Shadi hadn’t exactly been on great terms on their last meeting ("Hur hur, how's taking care of my daughter going, here, let me destroy your main source of income"). But still, it wasn’t like he'd left Trucy behind because he wanted to. “If her dad left before the verdict was read, then it was never legally proven that he killed a man, right?”

“What does it matter?” Mrs. Johnson snapped. “He killed a man and left his daughter behind.”

Mrs. Johnson turned toward Gumshoe. “Mr. Detective, if that—that—that criminal took Trucy from us we want him charged with kidnapping!”

Gumshoe and Phoenix exchanged looked. “Yeah, uh, we’ll…look into it,” Gumshoe said, coughing. “But, um, in case, I'm not a policeman. I can't charge him with anything. All I can do is try to find where she is." He folded his hands together. "If it wasn’t Trucy’s biological dad who took her, is there anywhere else she could’ve gone? Does she have any other friends? Anywhere else she likes to go?”

“What, you don’t believe us?” Mr. Johnson snapped again. His face was beginning to turn red.

“N-No, course we do, pal,” Gumshoe stammered. “Uh, one sec.” He turned, and pulled Phoenix in close. “Hey pal," he whispered, "uh, I think we have a bit of a problem here."

"So I've noticed." Many possibilities had crossed Phoenix's mind when they'd decided to track down the Johnsons, but the idea that they were this ignorant was not one of them.

"So what do we do? Do we tell them the real reason we're here?"

Phoenix grimaced. "If we tell them we think Trucy was involved at the Wonder Bar, I doubt we'll get anything else out of them. We just need to check every lead they give us. Even Shadi Enigmar."

“No, that’s a good call," Gumshoe said. Then, a sheepish look passed over his face. “Also, uh, I don’t know if we talked about this, but, um, there’s a decent chance Enigmar is dead? Probably shoulda mentioned before, I know he was your friend—”

“No, no, it’s alright," Phoenix interrupted, shocked that Gumshoe had even found that out. "I had an inkling.”

“Right. Right. Okay. Good talk.” Gumshoe patted Phoenix’s shoulder and turned back toward the Johnsons. “Sorry. But yeah, we believe you about her dad, we just wanna be thorough here. Chase down every lead there is, y'know? Anyone else come to mind? A friend? A mentor? A place she likes to go?”

Mr. Johnson frowned at his wife. “Anyone come to mind, Jane?”

“She doesn’t bring friends over here,” she replied. “I was worried she wasn’t making any friends at all.” She turned toward Phoenix and Gumshoe. “They always say children who weren’t raised in healthy homes have trouble adjusting, so we’ve been trying hard to make up for her father's neglect.” A sniffle. “She’d always had so much fun at those study groups, I thought maybe she was recovering…”

“What about that one girl?” Mr. Johnson asked. “Recently put in foster care, remember? Trucy wanted us to take her in, but we didn't have the space. Odd girl, a bit…creepy.” He twirled at his mustache. “We didn't really want Trucy hanging with her, but they were still in contact until a few months ago.” He reached down, grabbing an outdated laptop from under the coffee table. “Would you like me to check Trucy’s emails? We monitor all her online activity.”

Phoenix made a face, but bit his tongue. Don’t say anything. Don’t say anything. They’re Trucy’s parents now. Don’t say anything…

“What was that girl’s name again?” Mr. Johnson asked his wife. “Uh, Trixie something? Jenny?”

“No, it was something odd,” she said. “Ginny, maybe? Ginny Tanner?”

Phoenix gasped. “Jinxie Tenma?!”

Mr. Johnson snapped his fingers. “Yeah! That was—Hmm?” The two frowned toward Phoenix. “How did you…?”

“A-Ah, um, another case,” he stammered. “A girl named Jinxie whose…father…I mean…” Phoenix coughed. “I think that’s a lead worth checking out. What do you think, Detective?”

Gumshoe watched curiously, but nodded. “Sure. Seems like a good place to start, since we uh…very much don’t know where Trucy’s biological dad is." He nodded again. "Yup. No idea. At all.”

“…Detective.”

“Absolutely no clue.”

“Detective.”

He clamped his mouth shut.

Phoenix turned back toward the Johnsons. “Do you have an address for Jinxie?”

///

Today’s To-Do List

• Find Trucy
• Get letter of request
• Speak to Jinxie Tenma
• Update from Apollo and Kay

///

“Okay, good news and bad news, Gummy.”

Phoenix set the phone down on the dashboard between him and Gumshoe, switching it to speakerphone. Gumshoe frowned, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. “Alright, which news first?”

“Let’s get the bad news out of the way, I guess. Apollo, that seems like that’d be up your alley.”

“What’s that supposed to…? Whatever.” Some movement on the other line. “Okay, so the victim was holding the mask the magician girl was wearing. Prints on the inside match the victim, but there’s one partial on the front. Victim has been identified as a local drug dealer.”

Gumshoe made a face. “What, really?”

“Yeah. Nothing hard, but y'know, illegal is illegal. Hung around the area. Usually dealt to university students. Died from blunt force trauma, but they haven’t found a murder weapon yet. Prosecution has two witnesses it sounds like. They also found a note that said “Wonder Bar, 10PM”, and a uniform from some local Catholic school in the magician’s dressing room. Does this Trucy girl go to a Catholic school, Mr. Wright?”

Shit. “She does,” Phoenix admitted.

“…how on earth did you talk me into this?” Apollo groaned. “Are you positive she didn’t murder the guy?”

“Apollo, I promise you she didn’t.”

No response to that. Phoenix wished he could see what Apollo was thinking. Finally, he said, “She’s only been at the Wonder Bar for a few months. No one there knows her too well.”

Phoenix frowned, leaning back in his seat. “A few months, huh?” Where had he heard that before…?

Gumshoe sighed and spoke up. “Well, you said you had good news, right?”

“We spoke to the All-Seeing Eye’s manager!” Kay chimed in. “Mr. Guire. And he’s filled out a letter of request! We still technically need one from Trucy, but we at least have real permission to investigate before Ms. von Karma kicks Apollo’s ass!”

“W-Why only my ass?”

“I dunno, she likes me.”

“Oh, that is good news!” Gumshoe said. “Good job!”

Would be better news without the rest of that evidence piling up, Phoenix thought.

“How about you guys!” Kay asked. “Any luck?”

“We’re tracking down a lead now,” Phoenix told them, as Gumshoe pulled up toward the apartment complex the Johnsons had given them. “We’ll let you know when we find anything.”

“Okay, we’re gonna stay here a bit. Good luck, guys!” And Kay hung up.

The two parked the car and entered the apartment complex. It was a small red-brick building, near the train station. The building was almost as run down as Gumshoe’s complex, and a window seemed to be busted out on the third floor.

“Apartment 3C,” Phoenix read off the note he’d made. “You good, Detective Gumshoe?”

Gumshoe nodded. “Yeah. How ‘bout you, pal?”

He looked toward the stairwell. Would Trucy be up those stairs?

“…let’s find out.”

They ascended, and headed toward the apartment door. It was chipped and unpainted. The whole hallway smelled vaguely mildew-y. Forget Trucy, would Jinxie even be here?

Gumshoe knocked on the door. After a moment, it creaked open an inch. “Whadda you want?” came a scratchy voice.

“Hello, ma’am,” Gumshoe said. “I’m Dick Gumshoe, Private Investigator. I’m looking for someone named Jinxie Tenma—?”

“HEY JINXIE!” The door slammed shut in their face. “THE POLICE ARE HERE FOR YA.”

Gumshoe blinked at the door. “I’m not with the police—!”

“WHAT’D’YA DO, HUH? COME HERE AND TALK TO THE POLICE!”

Gumshoe and Phoenix exchanged glances. After another moment, the door opened. And there, looking as frazzled and tired as ever, was Jinxie Tenma, holding what looked like laundry in her hands. “…hello?”

“Hey there,” Gumshoe said. “My name is Dick Gumshoe. I’m—”

“Miss Gracie said you’re with the police,” Jinxie interrupted, eyes darting between Gumshoe and Phoenix.

“Uh, nope,” Gumshoe said. “I’m just private investigator. This here is my assistant, Phoenix Wright.

Jinxie inhaled sharply, eyes flickering toward Phoenix. Phoenix raised an eyebrow, but forced a smile onto his face. Jinxie just stared at him. “We wanted to ask you a few questions,” Phoenix finally said, as gently as he could. “Is that okay, Jinxie?”

She swallowed, glancing around as if she could dart away. “Uh-huh. I can do that, Mr. Policeman.”

“That, uh…” He cleared his throat. “Yeah, sure.”

“We’re looking for a girl named Trucy,” Gumshoe said. “Do you know where we can find her?”

Jinxie’s hands tightening on the laundry. “Oh. I…don’t know anyone named Trucy.”

“Um…Are you sure about that?” Phoenix asked. “Because we heard…”

“Nuh-uh. Not at all.”

And the world jolted.

Phoenix jumped, as everything around him went dark. Then, as he expected, the grinding of chains filled his ears.

“I don’t know anyone named Trucy,” Jinxie continued, holding the laundry in front of her mouth as the Psyche-Locks slammed into place. “You should probably ask someone else.”

Three Psyche-Locks, huh? Phoenix frowned as they receded from his vision. Of course she was hiding something. After all, Trucy knew Jinxie from before Phoenix even knew Trucy. He reached into his pocket and ran his thumb over the Magatama. He did already have plenty of evidence. Maybe this would be a quick break.

Gumshoe looked disappointed. “You don’t? But we came all this way…”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Policeman,” Jinxie said. “I don’t know Trucy, so I can’t help you find her. You should probably leave.”

“Jinxie,” Phoenix asked, grabbing the Magatama fully, “are you sure you don’t know where Trucy is?” Quickly, the chains reappeared, and everything around him faded into darkness.

--Trucy’s Whereabouts--

Jinxie looked up toward him. “I told you I don’t know who Trucy is,” she said. “So I can’t help you.”

“Is that so?” Phoenix asked. “You don’t know who Trucy is?”

“Nuh-uh. I don’t think I’ve even heard that name before.”

“Well,” he said, grinning a bit, “that’s certainly odd.”

Jinxie looked nervous. “What is?”

“It’s just," he fished through his pocket, pulling out his phone and bringing up the emails that the Johnsons had forwarded him, "we have all these emails between the two of you. Mr. and Mrs. Johnson like keeping track of Trucy’s contacts and emails. Did you know that?”

Jinxie made a loud squeaking noise. One lock shattered.

She stared at Phoenix, trembling. Phoenix just smiled down at her. “I do know Trucy,” she finally admitted.

“So do you think you can help us find her?”

“I don’t know where she is,” Jinxie said. “She hasn’t messaged me in months. We haven't emailed or texted. So I wouldn’t know where she went. I’m sorry.”

The second lock gleamed mockingly at him. But he wasn’t willing to give up so easily.

“I don’t think that’s true,” he said.

She frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I have a feeling you know more about Trucy’s whereabouts than you’re letting on. Am I right?”

“You…” her eyes went wide. “You must be a Satori!”

Phoenix blinked. “A…a what?”

“A-A Yokai,” she said in horror. “A demon that can read minds!”

“But I’m not—”

SMACK

Before Phoenix could react, a charm was slapped to his face. “Be gone, demon! You’re not welcome here!”

“…ow??”

“You alright, Mr. Wright?” Gumshoe asked from the darkness next to him.

“Y-Yeah, I’m fine.” He gingerly peeled the charm from his face and handed it back to her. “I’m not a demon,” he said. “But I feel like you’ve been talking with her recently.”

“You’re wrong,” Jinxie said, face behind the laundry again. “I haven’t spoken to Trucy in a long time.”

“Hmm, that’s weird,” Phoenix said. “Because I talked to her before. And before I left, I gave her something. In fact, I gave her my business card.” He leaned forward a bit. “You recognized my name earlier. Why is that?”

Jinxie swallowed. “I think maybe she mentioned it,” she said. “We used to talk a lot before she stopped talking to me. So she might’ve said your name and I just forgot it until just now.”

Phoenix felt another grin. “That’s weird.” He scratched his chin. “I could’ve sworn I only saw her a few weeks ago.”

Jinxie’s eyes widened. “…weeks?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Didn’t you say she last spoke to you a few months ago? So how would she have mentioned my name before she stopped messaging you.”

She flinched. The second lock shattered.

“Well that…uh…” She looked distressed now, swallowing nervously. “She was…She was..." Finally, she wilted a bit. "She was sending me messages on a secret email.”

Well, that was new. “A secret email?”

“Uh-huh,” Jinxie said. “A business email.”

Phoenix's brows furrowed. “I didn’t know she had a business email, let alone a secret one.”

“Neither did her foster parents,” Jinxie admitted, looking away. “She…can’t tell them lots of things. They don’t understand. They don't like magic. They don't like me much either, so Trucy decided to use the secret email to talk to me.”

Something clicked into place just then. “They don’t know about the magician thing," he said. "That’s why Trucy made a secret business email, isn’t it?”

Jinxie stiffened. She opened and closed her mouth a few times, searching for the right words, but nothing came out.

Phoenix simply sighed. “Jinxie, I already know about the magician thing, you don't need to hide that from me. I know a lot more than you'd think."

"Yeah, but what about..." She twisted the laundry in her hands.

"...Have you been following the news?” he asked.

After a moment, a quick nod.

“Did you read my card? The one I gave Trucy?”

When she didn't answer that one, he pulled out another one from his wallet. He handed it to her. "I'm...I know someone who can help her, Jinxie. I know she didn't do anything wrong."

"...you do?" Jinxie finally lowered her hands, looking up at Phoenix.

"I do. And my friend Apollo can prove it."

“You’re sure?”

Phoenix looked her dead in the eye. “Jinxie. I’m positive.”

Jinxie shut her eyes. Then, with a sigh, the final lock shattered.

Unlock Successful

Phoenix’s shoulders relaxed as he watched the chains recede. The world itself came back into focus, and he realized Gumshoe was staring at him, open-mouthed.

“That was…amazing, pal,” he said.

"Oh, uh, thanks."

"You just always know what to say," he said. "It's almost like watching Mr. Edgeworth back in the day!"

“R-Right, thanks.” He coughed. “Jinxie, where is Trucy?”

Jinxie took a deep, steadying breath. “She’s been hiding in my room,” she said. “She didn’t want her foster parents to know anything about her secret magician job. So she’s been hiding under my bed and I’ve been sneaking her food.”

“You’ve been what?!”

“You can come in, I guess,” Jinxie mumbled. “I’ll show you where she is.” And she turned.

Chapter Text

The apartment was small and cramped, with clothes and plates and whatever else scattered about. There were a few younger children around, wrestling or playing with ratty dolls. Phoenix wasn’t able to spot Miss Gracie again, though he had this acute feeling someone was watching him closely. He stuck as close to Gumshoe as he could.

Jinxie led them back, and into another room. This one was also cramped, though much cleaner than the rest of the house. Her work uniform, the maid outfit from Nine-Tales Vale, was laid out on a chair, and a few little wrestling figurines were lying on a desk. Near the bed was an overflowing laundry basket. Otherwise, the room was fairly plain.

Jinxie trudged in, and as soon as Gumshoe and Phoenix followed, she shut the door behind them. “Trucy, you should come out for a sec,” she whispered.

“Oh, did Miss Gracie leave—?” A head popped out from under the bed, and froze.

Trucy’s hair was disheveled, likely from hiding under a bed all day. Gone was the school uniform from before. Now she was wearing what looked like Jinxie’s clothes, covered in dust. There was a diamond shaped brooch clipped to her sleeve, and some faint glitter in her hair.

They stared at each other, Trucy’s eyes wide with shock. Eventually, a nervous smile broke across her face. “…Mr. Wright.”

“Trucy.”

Slowly, Trucy pulled her self the rest of the way from beneath the bed, not looking away. “I didn’t expect to see you here,” she said. “Um. Hi!”

“Hi,” he said. “You’re looking…well.”

Finally, the smile disappeared with a huff. She plopped onto the bed. “I guess we have stuff to talk about, huh,” she mumbled. “Jinxie, you don’t need to stay here if you’re busy…”

“Nuh-uh. If I leave, Miss Gracie is going to get curious about why I left two policemen in my room,” she said. “I’ll just make myself small.” She leaned up against the wall and continued folding her laundry.

Trucy nodded, and glanced up toward Gumshoe. “You’re with the police?”

“Nope,” he said. “I’m Dick Gumshoe, Private Investigator.” He sat down in the nearby chair. “We’ve been looking for you. We spoke to the Johnsons…”

“Yeah…figures…”

“Trucy,” Phoenix asked, “what you were thinking, running away like that? Everyone’s been worried sick.”

“I know,” she said. “I just…” She leaned back against the wall, crossing her arms. “I didn’t want the Johnsons knowing about my job, okay?”

Phoenix blinked. “Huh?”

“I started a few months ago,” Trucy said, legs stretching in front of her. “I finally had a plan. I’d disguise myself so they wouldn’t know about my magic show. I’d pretend I was studying like they wanted, and then I’d start making money as a magician in secret. Then, when everyone else started getting ready for college, I could show them that I could make a living doing magic!” She grinned. “Then even if they kicked me out, I’d be able to take care of myself!”

“Kicked you…? Trucy, do you really think they’d kick you out for wanting to be a magician?” Phoenix asked. “I hope the Johnsons care about you more than that.”

Trucy scoffed. “No they don’t,” she said. “They care about Trucy Johnson, not Trucy Enigmar.”

“What…does that mean?”

“They just…” She frowned, head leaning back against the wall. “They’re always so worried about me fitting in and being normal. ‘Don’t be weird, Trucy, don’t make a scene, Trucy, don’t do anything to stick out, Trucy. Just make friends and hang out and do all the things normal little girls do.’” She sat back up, hands on her hips. “Did you know they offered to pay for a name change?! ‘Wouldn’t you rather have a normal name? Like Tracy?’” She glared toward Phoenix. “Can you see me as a Tracy?!”

Phoenix made a face. “God, never.”

“Exactly! Why would I want a boring name like Tracy!” She slumped back again. “It’s ‘cause of my dad,” she muttered. “They’re so convinced that if I do anything weird, it’s because I’m still suffering some horrible trauma of being abandoned as a child, and I’m never going to be a well-adjusted adult, and so they have to fix me somehow. They’d rather I just never do anything than turn out like my dead-beat dad.”

“Trucy…”

She glanced back at him with a tired half-smile. “It’s weird,” she said. “I’m more me when I’m performing on stage. It’s like…Trucy Johnson is all an act, you know? A boring, complicated, time-consuming act. But when I’m on stage, I don’t have to pretend to be normal. I don’t have to keep my head down and keep my thoughts to myself. I can just be me.”

Trucy did seem so much more herself now, with the glitter in her hair and the rumpled clothes. She didn't shrink in on herself as she talked. She didn't look away from him. Completely different from the girl he’d spoken to those weeks ago.

Phoenix sighed. “Well…maybe they’ll surprise you…?”

“No matter what, I’m sure they’re gonna be happy you’re safe,” Gumshoe said. “So let’s get you home and then we can—”

“Wait!” Trucy shot up. “I can’t go back yet!”

Phoenix frowned. “Why not?”

“Because I-I haven’t gotten my story straight! I-I need to figure out what I'm gonna say,” she said, hands balling into fists. “Can you two promise not to tell them about the Wonder Bar? Please?”

“S’cuse me?” Gumshoe stood up, face shocked. “I can’t just hide that from them, pal.”

“No, I know, I just…just until I can figure out how to tell them about the All-Seeing Eye,” she begged. “Then I can explain it myself. I don’t want to stop doing magic. And they’re going to be so mad at me. Magic is the only thing I got!”

“That’s what you’re worried about?” Gumshoe asked. “Not the whole Murder thing?”

Trucy stopped short. “…the what?”

There was a long silence. Phoenix stared at her. “You…didn’t know about the murder?”

“T-The murder?” she asked, eyes going wide. “What murder?”

Gumshoe looked dumbfounded. “There was a murder at the Wonder Bar,” he told her. “They found a body, and the All-Seeing Eye’s mask.”

Trucy’s eyes were wide. She looked at Gumshoe, at Phoenix, at Jinxie. Jinxie quickly looked away. “I wasn’t sure if you knew,” Jinxie said. “They mentioned it on the news.”

“I…” She looked toward Phoenix. “He wasn’t dead when I left. You have to believe me!”

“Who wasn’t?”

“The—The weirdo who hangs out outside the Wonder Bar,” she said. She was on her feet now. “He was acting really weird, and started yelling at me that I owed him money. And if I didn’t pay up, he was gonna tell everyone the truth. He knew who I really was, and he was gonna make sure everyone knew it too.”

Phoenix frowned. “That’s…odd. What did you do?”

“Well, it wasn’t like I had any money with me,” she said. “I told him I didn’t have any money, and he tried to grab me, so I hit him in the stomach and ran.” She looked toward Gumshoe. “You have to believe me, he was alive when I left! He kept shouting cuss words after me, and that he was gonna tell everyone! And I was worried the Johnsons would find out, so I went to Jinxie. You have to believe me, I didn’t kill him. I wouldn’t!”

“I believe you, Trucy,” Jinxie said.

Gumshoe looked hesitant, but he glanced toward Phoenix. “Well, if Mr. Wright is convinced, I trust his judgement. What do you think, pal?”

“Of course I believe her,” he said. “Why the hell do you think I came all the way here?”

Trucy gasped. “Wait! I forgot!” She turned, dashing toward a small closet and pulling it open. Inside was a familiar backpack. She quickly pulled open a side pocket, and pulled out Phoenix’s business card. She turned toward him. “Mr. Wright…you’re a lawyer, aren’t you?”

Phoenix grinned.

///

“Here you go, Mr. Gavin!”

Kristoph glanced up as Apollo held out the paper. “And what is this, dare I ask?”

“A letter of request, from one Trucy Johnson and her foster parents!” he said, almost glowing with pride. Phoenix couldn’t help but grin too, standing behind him.

He hadn’t gotten the chance to really look around Kristoph’s office, as it was the only one behind its own door. It was also nicely decorated, but with some more personal touches. A well-polished violin rested on a bookshelf. A small vase rested on a side table, near a photo of a golden retriever and, shockingly, the newspaper clipping of Apollo’s first win.

In a disturbing sort of way, the place resembled Kristoph’s prison cell quite a bit, though with less prison bars.

Resting on the desk was a small vial of nail polish. Phoenix wished he had Ema around to sneak him Atroquinine testing-solution, though he doubted Kristoph would poison his personal bottle.

He hadn’t had the chance to look around without Apollo or Kristoph around. Maybe he should change that.

Kristoph took the letter from Apollo, scanning it over with raised eyebrows. “Is that so?”

“The trial begins tomorrow,” Apollo told him. “We’ve already done a pretty thorough investigation.”

Kristoph nodded. “Amazing,” he said. “It’s almost as if you’re a real lawyer.”

Apollo’s grin faded slightly. “Y…Yeah,” he mumbled, forcing a little laugh, looking unsure if he were being made fun of.

“Well, I’ll certainly be keeping an eye on the trial when I can,” Kristoph said, handing the letter back. “Keep up the good work, Justice.”

He perked back up. “Thanks, Mr. Gavin.”

“And you as well, Wright,” he said, glancing over toward Phoenix. “Good job.”

“Thanks,” Phoenix said, giving him a smile as well. And Kristoph looked him over, searching his face with an unreadable look to his eyes.

After a moment, Kristoph leaned back. “Well, I suppose it’s almost time to wrap up for the night. Finish up the paperwork and we can head out.” He glanced out a nearby window, at the gray and the rain outside. “Hmm. Justice, are you going to need a ride home?”

“Yes please,” Apollo said, perking up immediately. “I’d really like not having to bike in the rain.”

“And you, Wright?”

“N-No, that’s fine,” Phoenix said. “I have…errands to run.” And I do not want you knowing where I live.

“If you say so.” He turned back to his paperwork. “Alright, then be ready to go in thirty minutes, Justice.”

“Yes sir.”

Phoenix, taking this as a dismissal, turned to leave. Halfway through the doorway, he paused, realizing Apollo hadn’t moved. Kristoph seemed to notice at the same time. “Yes, Justice? Do you need something?”

“No. Uh. Well…” He shifted a bit, rubbing at his bare wrist, and Phoenix realized exactly what Apollo wanted. He nervously ducked the rest of the way through the doorway, pressing against the wall next to it to listen.

Kristoph gave an amused sigh. “What do you want, Justice?”

“You, um…you have a brother, don’t you Mr. Gavin?”

There was a pause. Phoenix held his breath. “Justice, if you’re asking me to get you an autograph I may actually kill you.”

Nervous laughter from Apollo. “No, no, nothing like that. I just…” Phoenix could almost picture the anxiety on Apollo’s face. “I was hoping to get into contact with someone who worked with the Gavinners, and I was wondering if maybe you could get me in contact with him?”

“And who on earth are you trying to get in contact with?”

“Well, uh…there was a woman,” Apollo said. “A woman that toured with them. And she had a bracelet like the one I have. And I thought maybe if I could talk to her…” He took a shaky breath. “It’s just, I was told when I was younger that my mother left me this bracelet and I just wanted to know if…”

Another small pause. “If what? If this stranger was your mother?”

“W-Well yeah!” Apollo said. “I mean, what if she is? What if she’s only a phone call away?”

“Ah, yes, what then, Justice?” Kristoph asked, and Phoenix could almost see the eye roll. “Just what are you expecting from the woman who abandoned you as a baby, hmm? Her to welcome you back with open arms? Some sort of tearful family reunion?”

A cold silence filled the air. Phoenix’s stomach clenched. He wanted so badly to peak through the door.

Eventually, Kristoph continued. “Listen. Apollo.” He said it softly, gently, in a way that set off every fight-or-flight response Phoenix had. “You understand that you’re someone I care about, yes?”

Phoenix’s nails dug into his palms.

“I…yeah,” Apollo muttered. “O-Of course, Mr. Gavin.”

“This past year has been an ordeal. For both of us, I’d say. What with that trial and your…” He let the words hang a moment. “I know I’ve been hard on you recently. I should apologize for it. You’re not bad at what you do. But you keep throwing yourself head first into one tragedy after another. It’s exhausting to watch. We both know how this adventure is going to end. So no, I will not help you hunt down some woman who clearly never cared for you in the first place.”

“So, what, you want me to give up hope before even trying?” Apollo protested. “I’m an adult. I deserve to know where I came from. I want to know where I came from.”

“I think we’re done talking about this, Justice.”

And that seemed to be the end of that. It only took a few more moments for Apollo to step through the doors, jaw set. Phoenix quickly backed toward the desk he’d been using, hoping that didn’t look suspicious. Judging from Apollo’s glare, he’d failed spectacularly.

Phoenix watched a moment as Apollo trudged to his desk. “Hey, uh, you alright there, ‘Pollo?”

A grunt. “’m fine.”

Phoenix glanced down at the work he still had to finish, before walking over to Apollo. “I don’t think you need to give up so easily,” he said.

“Mr. Gavin is right though,” Apollo muttered. “Why should I care about a woman who never cared about me? It’s not like she’d be happy I tracked her down. She was probably glad to be rid of me.”

“W…Well, you don’t know she wouldn’t be happy,” he said. “There are other reasons someone gives up a child. Maybe she was sick, or couldn’t safely take care of you.”

“Sure. Or she just didn’t want me.” Apollo started putting things away. “Wouldn’t be the first time. Certainly won’t be the last. He’s right, I shouldn’t bother.”

“Apollo.” Phoenix slammed his hand down on Apollo’s desk without thinking. In a split second, Apollo had yelped, jumping back in his seat and covering his face with his arms as if Phoenix was about to hit him. It startled Phoenix almost as much as he’d startled Apollo. “Whoa, sorry,” Phoenix said. “Didn’t mean to scare you like that.”

“I-I’m fine,” Apollo said, quickly forcing his arms down as his face flushed bright red. “I just…Sorry. I’m fine.”

They sat in an uncomfortable silence for a moment. “The point is,” Phoenix continued, hitting the desk a bit softer, “you’re a good kid, and this is your choice. You’re allowed to take risks. You’re allowed to do things for yourself. To hell what Kristoph thinks.”

“ShhHHHHhh—” He waved his arms a moment at Phoenix’s face, looking toward Kristoph’s door. When nothing moved behind the frosted glass, he slumped back in his seat. “Don’t just say things like that, jeez,” he muttered. “Besides, he’s just worried. I’ve had…a bit of a rough year, and he’s been helping me through it a lot. I dunno, I get why he wouldn’t want me setting myself up for more disappointment.”

I get why he’d prefer you isolated. “Is that right?” Phoenix sat down on a chair next to him with a frown. Then, “Say, Apollo, do you even like working for him?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I?” Apollo asked, looking genuinely surprised at the question. “It’s steady work, I’m learning plenty just from watching him, and Mr. Gavin is…” He considered it a moment, glancing down. “He’s…amazing. He’s smart, and cool, and…and he’s been there for me, y’know? Not a lot of other people have been there for me. I…owe him a lot.” He made a noise between a raspberry and a sigh, leaning on his arm. “I owe him everything, honestly. I don't have...too many people left..."

That statement settling like a rock in his stomach, Phoenix crossed his arms on Apollo’s desk. “I feel like he puts you down a lot,” he said softly. “Hell, just this morning he was practically threatening you.”

“I mean, I am too loud,” Apollo muttered with a shrug. “I deserved it. And besides, he was just joking, y’know?”

 “I mean, I like to think I have a sense of humor,” Phoenix said. “That wasn’t funny, it was just concerning.”

“He’s not so bad,” Apollo repeated. “Besides he’s…Mr. Gavin’s a good guy. I trust him.”

“Maybe, but you looked practically terrified of him this morning.”

“Eh, I think you’re overreacting,” Apollo said, chuckling a bit. “Why would I be afraid of Mr. Gavin?”

And the world lurched.

“Uh, Mr. Wright?” Apollo asked, almost drowned out by the sound of grinding chains. The world grew dark. The world grew cold. “Mr. Wright, are you okay? You’re kinda staring at me…”

“…I’m fine,” he said weakly, eyes locked on the cold, black Psyche-Locks wrapping themselves around Apollo's heart.

Chapter Text

“Thanks for driving me on such short notice, Kristoph.”

“Of course, Wright,” he replied with a small smile, fingers tapping along the steering wheel. “I figure the only reason you befriended me was because I have a car.”

Phoenix snorted, head resting on the back of his seat. “It’s a perk,” he muttered, glancing at his phone. Still dark. No new messages. He opened the texts, just in case.

‘You know what, screw this. I can get my own ride.’

‘Have fun at your meeting. You don’t need to come.’

Kristoph watched for a moment. “Nothing?”

“…It’s fine,” Phoenix mumbled, shoving it into his pocket. “He’s a busy guy anyway. I’m sure he’s doing something real important.”

“More important than being with his boyfriend?” Kristoph asked. “Certainly seems like odd priorities.”

Phoenix grunted, glancing out the window, trying to pretend it was fine. Kristoph frowned, turning a bit toward him. “Wright,” he said. Then, “Phoenix.”

“What?”

He reached out, gently touching Phoenix’s knee. “You understand that I care about you, yes?”

Phoenix took a sharp breath through his nose. “C’mon, Kristoph…”

“Why put up with this?” he asked. “He’s clearly been pulling away from you for a while now. I mean…” Kristoph shook his head, adjusting his glasses. “He barely calls. Barely texts. Hardly seems to care at all." He leaned in a bit, eyes sharp. "When’s the last time he’s told you he loves you?” He sighed. “It's clear he doesn't care about any of this. I just don’t understand why you stay with him at this point.”

It hurt, how much he wanted this to be real. The care in Kristoph’s voice. The hand on his leg. The sadness in his eyes. Everything else was falling apart. Everything else was slipping away. His friends were slipping away. Miles was slipping away. Why couldn’t this be real? Why couldn’t this one thing be real?

…Would it be worth it just to pretend…?

Tap tap tap “Daddy?”

He jumped, and turned. Trucy, eleven-years-old, was standing at the window, looking curiously in. He hopped up and gathered his things. “We’ll talk later,” he told Kristoph. “Sure you don’t want to stay for the show?”

“Unfortunately, I do still have things to do today,” he said, turning quickly away from the two of them. “Enjoy yourself though.”

Phoenix nodded as he stepped from the car. “See you, then.”

“Why isn’t Mr. Edgeworth driving you?” Trucy said, as the door shut behind him. “I thought he was gonna come to the show.”

“He’s…not coming,” Phoenix told her through the dull throb in his chest. “I’m sorry Trucy. Here though, I brought the props you forgot.”

She frowned, watching as Kristoph pulled away. “Daddy?”

“Yeah?”

“I think…that man was lying to you.”

Phoenix blinked. “…huh?”

“Yeah,” she said. “I-I think so, at least. It was kind of hard to tell, and he was far away but…” She folded her arms, thinking. “Something about the way he was messing with his glasses I think…”

His glasses? Phoenix considered it a moment. When had Kristoph touched his glasses? He wracked his brain.

“…He barely calls. Barely texts…”

Miles’s calls and texts…? But why would Kristoph lie about that? No, how would Kristoph lie about that. That wasn’t something Kristoph was involved with. That was just Miles. It wasn’t as if Kristoph could have done anyth…

A thought occurred to him, then. A numbing thought. Slowly, he pulled out his phone and dialed.

Edgeworth answered on the second ring. “Wright, is something wrong?” He sounded confused, concerned. “I didn’t think you’d call after—”

“Edgeworth. Take a picture of our last conversation and send it to me.”

“…What?" He could almost hear the furrowed brow. "Wright, is this really—”

“Please!”

A pause. “Alright, I suppose I can do so. One…moment… There we are.”

A buzz against his ear, and he pulled back, opening the text. There was a picture of their conversation, their latest argument. One of many. One of hundreds like it. Only…there was a new message in this one. Just to be sure, he pulled up his own texts. Then he switched back to Edgeworth's.

‘Alright, I will see you tomorrow.’

‘See you then! <3’

---

 ‘Phoenix, My meeting was moved later, I don’t think I can pick you up. I can still come at intermission if you’d like. Can you get another ride? Talk later. Love, Miles’

---

‘Hey where the hell are you? You told me you could grab me’

‘I’m gonna be late! Trucy forgot some props.’

‘Why do you always do this’

‘Can't you answer for once in your life???’

‘I told you I’m at a meeting?’

‘I can get there by intermission.’

‘You know what, screw this. I can get my own ride.’

‘Have fun at your meeting. You don’t need to come.’

Why do you put up with this?

When’s the last time he’s told you he loves you?

Phoenix stared. And stared. Then laughter bubbled from his chest. And relief. And anger. And pain. And tears began to flow, choking him along with the laughter.

“Wright?” Now Edgeworth just sounded confused. “What on earth is going on? Are you alright?”

“I think I get it,” he whispered, smiling through the tears. “I think I get it.”

///

New To-Do List

• What did Kristoph do?
• Seriously, what did Kristoph do?
• What did he do?

///

The Gavin Law Office was menacing in the dark gray of the evening. The floor creaked at every step. The lights from beyond the windows cast long shadows on the walls around him.

Phoenix shut the door gently behind him, almost holding his breath. He’d heard Kristoph and Apollo leave together from the bathroom in the hallway, chatting about getting dinner, debating if they should leave Apollo’s bike at the office or fit it into Kristoph’s car. If it were anyone else, it would’ve been endearing to listen to. If it were anyone else, it wouldn’t have left such a pit in his stomach.

“Why would I be afraid of Mr. Gavin?”

Phoenix sighed, and made his way toward Kristoph’s door. He jiggled the handle, but of course not. Of course Kristoph would lock the door. He punched the frame angrily. The window inside was frosted glass, too, making it impossible to look through.

He should’ve brought Kay, though he really wasn’t sure how to explain that he suspected his new boss was a murderer. Or maybe if he’d taken up Maya’s offer to take that lock-picking class, maybe he’d have some sort of way in.

“Why would I be afraid of Mr. Gavin?”

Why would Apollo be afraid of Kristoph? No, more than that, why would Apollo be subconsciously afraid of Kristoph? It wasn’t like Apollo was hiding something from Phoenix. This was something deeper. Something darker. Something raw, and festering, and painful, that even Apollo didn't see.

So what did Apollo have to be afraid of?

He jiggled the knob a few more seconds, before giving up and turning toward the filing cabinet. He wasn’t leaving here without something to show for it. For once, it was information he was missing. And damn it, it was information he was getting.

He spent a few hours there, just parsing through the files. Any time he caught sight of a name he recognized, he’d pull it out. All of Apollo’s cases. Franziska von Karma. Manfred von Karma. Spark Brushel. He even found some files on Shadi Enigmar’s case. Which made sense, since Kristoph was a part of the committee that had taken Phoenix’s badge originally.

(He had this nagging feeling that he recognized the name of the defense attorney that was screwed over this time around. But where had he heard of Raymond Shields before? Maybe he was imagining it…)

He flipped on the desk lamp beside him, and started reading through the other cases.

Incident No. GR-5, Starbuck vs. State

Crime: Two counts murder in the first degree, illegal use of explosives

Sentence: 55 Years to Life

Case Summary:

December 15, 2027, Approx. 10 AM.

Victim found at Cosmos Space Center

December 16, 2027, Approx. 11 AM.

Victim found in Courtroom No. 4

He sighed, flipping ahead. “The bombing too, then,” he muttered to himself. Then a sigh. "Come on, give me something I don’t know."

Head Prosecutor: Franziska von Karma

Defense Attorneys: Apollo Justice (Medical Leave), Norman Boeing (State Appointment)

“…like that.”

He quickly read through some more summary, of the trial, of the bombing, of Apollo’s subsequent hospitalization. Kristoph had decided not to pursue the case further, citing Apollo’s hospitalization in the courtroom bombing, and Franziska had made quick work of the state-appointed attorney after they added the bombing to Starbuck’s charges.

He flipped to the next casefile. Two familiar names. Manfred von Karma vs. Kristoph Gavin. A showdown in hell that Phoenix had never gotten to witness. It was several years old.

Incident No. VL-8, Golph vs. State

Crime: Murder in the first degree

Sentence: Mistrial

Mistrial? That was rare. He flipped ahead, scanning through the pages.

Due to von Karma’s sudden and mysterious illness, the incident was declared a mistrial. Retrial marked in subsequent files.

 “…concerning,” he muttered. The retrial of course was an easy win for Kristoph without von Karma prosecuting. von Karma himself had been hospitalized for several months after the trial, due to some sort of nerve damage, prompting his daughter’s return to the states. “…deeply concerning.”

After that, nothing in particular stuck out to him. Enigmar’s case, Brushel’s case, everything else seemed par for the course. Apollo’s other cases seemed safe, easy cases. Kristoph’s other cases seemed legitimate.

He stayed well into the night, looking for clues, scouring for anything of value. Every time he shut his eyes, the black psyche-locks gleamed at him. It was almost midnight by the time he gave up. Without Kristoph’s private office, he had nothing. But he didn’t want to be tired for Trucy’s trial. Trucy needed him, and Trucy's emergency was higher priority now.

Another night, Phoenix, he told himself, glaring at the frosted glass. Another night…

///

“Court is now in session for the trial of Trucy Enigmar. Are the defense and the prosecution ready?”

“The defense is ready your honor!” Apollo shouted. There were bags under his eyes, the way there always was when I couldn’t get to sleep before a trial. He’d seemed particularly jumpy this morning when he and Kristoph had entered the courthouse.

Franziska looked annoyed at the volume change, glowering toward Apollo. “Yes, yes, let’s get on with this,” she said. “I am very busy today, so if we could wrap this up quickly.”

Phoenix could see Apollo already starting to fidget next to him. “You good over there?” he whispered.

“Yes, yes, let’s get on with this,” Apollo mocked under his breath, glaring at her. “Yeah right.” Phoenix could see the fire in his eyes. Dim, yes, but there all the same. He smiled.

“Trucy Enigmar, known under her stage name ‘The All-Seeing Eye’, murdered Mr. Marty Jaine outside the Wonder Bar two days ago.” Oh, Franziska had already started the opening statement. “We have perfect evidence, two perfect witnesses, and no room for doubt.”

“I see.” The judge already seemed fairly swayed, nodding along as Franziska spoke. “If there is no room for doubt, then I don’t see much of a point in prolonging the—”

“OBJECTION!” Ah, and there were those chords of steel. “We literally just started. That leaves plenty of room for doubt. That’s what a trial is for!”

“Ah yes, perhaps I do remember you,” Franziska said, wagging a finger. “That shrill shriek of yours, always voicing whatever foolish thought lurked inside that foolish head.”

Phoenix watched the usual banter back and forth, as Apollo desperately convinced the judge to actually have a trial. Phoenix loved his job, but man, there were some parts that he would gladly give up in a heartbeat. And Franziska von Karma was high on that list.

He took stock of the courtroom as Apollo and Franziska continued, only half listening. He’d jump in if needed, of course, but he was the assistant now. He trusted Apollo enough to handle things.

Trucy sat in the defendant’s seat, looking small again, bangs hiding most of her face. Trucy Johnson, it seemed, was back in full force. The Johnsons themselves sat behind her, glaring at Franziska with a seething hatred that Phoenix usually reserved for the real murderers.

They had taken the news better than Phoenix had expected, though not by much. They’d been angry, confused, concerned. They hadn’t fully been on board with accepting Apollo’s help (“Isn’t that other attorney his boss, why are we getting the rookie attorney? Trucy deserves the best defense!”). But they’d agreed in the end, more relieved than anything that she'd made her way home safely.

“The prosecution would like to calls its first witness.”

Ah, there we go. Phoenix turned back to attention as Franziska continued directing the court with a confident wave of her hand. The real trial begins.

“The prosecution calls to the stand the lead detective on this case, Bobby Fulbright.”

“FUCK.”

The room went silent, as every single pair of eyes in the courtroom slowly turned toward Phoenix.

“…Mr. Justice,” the judge said, coughing a bit, “does the defense have something to share…?”

“N-No, Your Honor, sorry, Your Honor, won’t happen again, Your Honor—” Apollo turned toward Phoenix. “Mr. Wright what the hell?!” he hissed.

“Sorry,” he squeaked. But now he was at full attention.

Bobby Fulbright entered the room, striding and grinning to the witness stand. And Phoenix watched his every move, wide eyed, heart beating in his ears, as the good detective turned toward the rest of the court.

“Good afternoon,” he said. “The name is Bobby Fulbright, here in the name of justice to discuss the investigation!”

Why is he here?! Why is he still here?! Did they not find the body?! How was I responsible for them finding the body?! Why is he here?!?!

“The victim, Mr. Jaine, was killed at approximately eight o’clock PM this past Wednesday.”

Why is he even here?! Did he have more things to do?! Did he just decide it was useful to be a detective forever?! Why?! Is?! He?! Here?!

With a chipper smile, Fulbright shared the autopsy report, and the details of the police’s investigation. Blunt force trauma to the back of the head, fell and cracked his skull on the pavement, yadda yadda, Phoenix could barely focus on anything but the buzzing in his ears. It was the same sort of buzzing he heard when he realized he was talking to the real murderer. It pounded in time to his heart.

Run. Run. Run.

There was no reason to run. Fulbright had no way of knowing that Phoenix knew who he was. He'd given Phoenix no reason to suspect him. And they were already months past the incident itself, a closed case that'd already been settled in court. Once again, Phoenix was rooted to the spot, helpless while a murderer was wearing another man’s face and talking to the court and okay, maybe this situation was just a bit more nuanced than usual but STILL.

Oblivious to Phoenix’s impending panic attack, Apollo was reading through the autopsy report, mumbling out loud to himself as he tried to make sense of the whole thing. “S-Should I press him?” he asked Phoenix. “Or should I present something, or should I…?”

“Go with your instincts,” Phoenix managed, trying to even his breathing. “They’re usually on the right track.”

Apollo scowled. “You’re no help,” he muttered, before taking a deep breath. “HOLD IT!” It echoed through the courtroom as the court looked his way. “Are you trying to tell me that my client, all five-foot-no-inches of her, was able to push this man with enough force to crack open his YEOWCH!”

The crack of the whip pierced the air, and Phoenix tried to hide his chuckle.

“And just what does this little girl’s height have to do with anything?” Franziska asked, glaring full force. “With enough force, I’m sure I could easily break your skull as well.”

Apollo blanched. “T-That has nothing to do with—OW! I just meant she—ACK! Your Honor, Ms. von Karma’s whip is a blatant violation of OW WILL YOU STOP THAT?!”

“Foolish fools will simply continue to run their foolish mouths, it seems,” Franziska said, pulling the whip taught. “If you enjoy the sting of my whip so much, I will be happy to continue to use it.”

“To your first point,” Fulbright chimed, before Apollo could give Franziska another reason to whip him, “it’s less about how hard the girl pushed him than it is how he landed. If he hit his head directly, then it shouldn’t matter if Miss Enigmar was stronger than him.”

“But how could she knock him over in the first place?” Apollo protested.

“Well, stance is certainly a factor,” Fulbright told him, turning and adjusting his own. “Stand like this” and he squatted a bit, “and your center of gravity keeps you in place. But if you did this,” and he stood up on his tiptoes. “Well. Point is, doesn’t matter who you are, if someone makes you lose their balance, then down you’ll EEP!” And he fell back.

“Ah, it seems we are ready to transition to our next witness then,” Franziska said, smirking. “The one who saw him stumble.”

Apollo pouted, but no one else paid him any mind, as Fulbright headed out. Phoenix let out a breath as he exited, never taking his eyes off his back. Another person to add to his list, he supposed. Another monster left under the bed.

And then another person entered, striding past Mr. Fulbright. And again, Phoenix froze.

She strode up to the witness stand, munching something out of a small bag, looking for all the world vaguely bored. And she turned.

“Witness,” Franziska said, “please state your name and occupation for the court.”

“Name’s Ema Skye,” she said, setting the bag down on the stand. “I’m a university student, science department.” Her eyes flashed toward Trucy. “And I definitely saw that girl murder Marty Jaine.”

Chapter Text

Ema continued to munch on her snack-size bag of Snackoos as she leaned on her elbow. She was wearing her signature lab coat, and a button-down shirt. Her pink glasses sat atop her head. She had her little sidebag, buttons and all, slung over her shoulder. And she was wearing a rather self-satisfied smirk on her face.

“Err, could the witness refrain from snacking in the courtroom?”

Everyone ignored the judge. “Witness, would you be so kind as to tell the court what you saw that night?” Franziska asked, and Ema nodded.

“Sure thing, Ms. von Karma.” She popped the final Snackoo in her mouth and straightened her back. She looked well, Phoenix would say. Actually, she looked much the same as in the real world. It would’ve been a relief, if not for the fact that she was testifying against his daughter.

“I was heading home after my evening bio lab,” Ema began. “It was getting kind of late. I was debating stopping by the Wonder Bar for a few minutes, when I heard some shouting. I looked into the little alley next to the bar, and I see two people fighting.” She pointed over toward Trucy. “It was the girl and Marty Jaine. Jaine lunged at the girl, and the girl hit him. He pitched forward, hit the ground, and the girl took off.” She folded the empty snack bag and tossed it onto the ground. “Seems pretty cut and dry, scientifically speaking.”

Phoenix nodded along, brows furrowed. Damn, he wished he'd been paying more attention earlier, if it was Ema he was going up against. Was there anything wrong with what she'd just said?

“Well, Your Honor? Mr. No-Name Defense Attorney?” Franziska smiled, leaning forward onto the bench in front of her. “Are you satisfied with this testimony?”

“Hmm,” the judge said. “It is very satisfying testimony. Mr. Justice, do you—”

“OBJECTION!”

Apollo had perked up, a grin on his face, and a spark in his eyes. The judge, however, looked confused. “I am the judge, Mr. Justice,” he said. “You can’t object to me.”

“Wh—No! With the testimony!” He quickly scrambled through the court record, pulling out the autopsy report. “Ms. Skye, can you repeat that last part of the testimony?”

Ema raised an eyebrow. “Seems pretty cut and dry, scientifically speaking?”

“N-No, right before that,” he said. “Where you said the guy fell forward. Can you repeat that?”

She blinked. “…the man fell forward,” she repeated. A pause, and Ema gave some jazz hands. “Tah dah…?”

Apollo grinned at her, at Franziska, at Phoenix. “…how could he have fallen forward if he hit the back of his head?”

At that, Ema’s brows furrowed. “What? The back of his head?” she asked, looking confused. “But…huh.” Her eyes shut a moment, as if trying to remember.

Franziska simply rolled her eyes. “Obviously, the witness is confused,” she said. “What does it matter how he fell? He could have easily turned as he fell, or something of the sort.”

“She’s an eye-witness!” Apollo protested. “If she’s confused about something, then that calls her testimony into question.”

“Okay, but I was there for a while,” Ema snapped, looking irritated at both Apollo and Franziska. From her bag, she pulled another bag of Snackoos. “He hit the ground, the girl turned and ran off, and Jaine just didn’t move.” She shrugged, popping a Snackoo into her mouth. “If the girl didn’t kill him, I don’t know who else could’ve.”

Apollo made an annoyed noise, biting a knuckle slightly as Franziska leaned forward with a smug grin. “There, you see?” Franziska asked. “The direction he fell certainly doesn’t matter.”

Phoenix started rifling through the court record as Apollo continued to argue with Franziska. Of course arguing semantics was always helpful for stalling, but that wasn’t where this trial would end. They needed more evidence, more proof, more something. But what?

His phone buzzed.

“Wh…” He paused a moment. He shouldn't check, of course. He was in court! But… Quickly, he glanced around to see if anyone was looking. Apollo was shouting. Franziska was preparing her whip. The judge was frowning at them. Ema was eating. And Trucy…Trucy was watching Phoenix intently.

They stared at each other a moment, before she motioned with her head. In her hand, he could see a phone. Cautiously, he shifted, peaking at the phone in his pocket.

She eats faster when she’s nervous

The number wasn’t saved in his phone. He blinked at it. Then he blinked at Trucy. She motioned again, toward Ema. He looked over, then turned toward Apollo. Screw watching Ema for tics, what was Apollo doing?

Apollo was still arguing with von Karma, about Ema’s testimony. About what she saw, when she saw it, where she saw it from. And then he bit his knuckle again, and there, that wasn’t something Apollo usually did, was it? He glanced at Ema again, as she nibbled on another Snackoo at the same time.

“Were you watching the whole time, Ms. Skye?” Phoenix asked, startling Apollo. Apollo hissed, having accidentally bitten down on his finger.

Ema scowled at Phoenix. “Yeah, I just said I did,” she said.

“Did you call the police immediately? After all, you just saw a murder.”

“W-Well…no,” she admitted. “I didn’t think it was a murder at the time. I just…thought it was a fight. I waited a bit, to see what was going on, but when the police arrived, I left.”

Apollo rummaged through the papers again. “Who did call the police, anyway?”

“That would be Mr. Guire,” Franziska said. “The manager. He saw the whole thing from a front window.”

“H-Huh?!” He started rifling through the papers faster. “Why didn’t he tell me that?”

“Well, I’m sure a competent investigator could’ve found that information quite easily,” Franziska quipped. “But unfortunately, it seems all you had was an ex-detective, a robber, and a no-name defense attorney.”

Apollo wilted a bit. “Hey, Mr. Wright, where are you going with this questioning?” he whispered.

“She’s lying about something.”

He blinked. “Huh? About what? How can you tell?”

Phoenix couldn't help the grin spreading across his face. It felt so familiar. So nostalgic. “You can learn a lot about a person by watching for nervous habits,” he said. “Like the way Ema keeps shoving Snackoos in her mouth.”

“…r…right,” Apollo said, clearly not buying it.

“I think you notice more than you realize,” he said, looking back toward Ema. “But the fact is that she’s lying, and that’s the secret to winning. If we can call her on it…”

“What’s the point of doing that?”

Phoenix paused, looking over to Apollo. Apollo had a scowl on his face. “It’s not like pointing out the lie will miraculously fix things for us,” he said. “Besides, what’s to stop her from just lying about that part too? We can't just shout stuff and assume she'll admit she's lying." A small grin. "Evidence is everything in a court of law, Mr. Wright.”

“…a-ah…right…”

Apollo had gone back to digging through the court record, muttering to himself. Phoenix watched him, willing his heart back to beating. Maybe it wasn’t going to be as simple as he thought it might.

And even so, why was Ema lying? She wasn’t one to stretch the truth when it mattered. She was hard working, diligent, and as honest as they came. Overzealous high school student or sour detective, Ema was a good person.

At least, the Ema he knew was.

Apollo pressed on, determined to find some contradiction in Ema’s testimony. But unfortunately, her testimony was simple. Those were always the hardest to contradict. ‘I was here. I saw something. I left.’ Nothing blatant to pick apart.

“There’s gotta be something,” Apollo muttered. “I’m not calling it quits yet.” He pulled out a diagram of the scene. “Ms. Skye, where were you when you saw the murder?”

“Uh.” She glanced down, fixing her strap as she thought. “I must’ve been by the street, I think.” A shrug. “Why does that matter?”

“Well—”

Phoenix’s phone buzzed again. He quickly peaked, as Apollo continued to talk about something.

I didn’t see her when I ran

He glanced up. Trucy was watching him, motioning her head toward Ema again as she shoved her phone back into her pocket.

“Say, Ms. Skye, which way did the girl run?”

Ema glared again, though there was a hint of surprise in her eyes. “What do you mean?”

“Yeah, Mr. Wright, what do you mean?” Apollo asked, looking a bit irritated at getting interrupted again.

“Did the girl run toward you or away from you?” Phoenix asked. “When you were watching this all go down.”

“Oh. Uh…” She frowned, considering the question. “Well, if I was heading from class I would’ve…passed in front of the Wonder Bar,” she said. “She ran my way, and turned down the street.”

He almost missed it, but he heard a sharp inhale from the defendant’s seat.

“Objection!” Franziska leaned forward, elbow on the bench in front of her. “Just what does the witness’s location matter? As long as she could see what happened, the angle doesn’t make a difference, does it?”

“Of course it does,” Apollo protested. Then, “Uh, right Mr. Wright?” He looked over questioningly, and Phoenix quickly scanned him up and down, feeling a buzz from his phone. Apollo wasn’t biting his knuckles, but… There! Now that he was looking, Apollo had grabbed awkwardly onto his collar. Looking over for a comparison, Ema was grabbing the strap of her bag in just about the same place, twiddling it with her fingers.

“Yeah,” Phoenix said. “Of course it matters. Because Trucy didn’t see anyone when she ran.”

“…she didn’t?” Apollo asked.

“I mean, the girl seemed pretty distracted, after murdering a guy and all,” Ema said. “I don’t know why she would’ve seen me. I was on the other side of the street anyway.”

“Yeah, honestly, where are we going with this, Mr. Wright?” Apollo asked. “So Trucy didn’t see this girl, does that make a difference?”

“She’s lying about this one, too.”

Apollo looked at her skeptically. “She’s not eating,” he said, eyes drifting over her face as he tugged on his collar again. “Does she have a new tic now or something?”

Phoenix couldn’t help but smile. “I think she’s rubbing off on you,” he said, tapping Apollo’s arm.

Confused, he looked down, letting go of his collar. Then he looked back toward Ema. And then, finally, it happened. He could see the change. He could see Apollo’s arms stiffen, his eyes go bug-eyed in shock. His focus laser in. “Wh-Wh-Wha-What—”

“Apollo?”

“What is this what’s happening?”

He tried not to laugh. “See it now?”

“Mr. Wright if you drugged me I swear to god—”

“Is everything alright over at the defense’s bench?” The judge called, looking vaguely concerned.

Apollo swallowed. “U-Uh…” His eyes were still bug-eyed, but he forced them shut a moment. “O-Okay. I-I'm fine. Um, the witness is…" He opened his eyes agian. "She keeps tugging on her bag when she’s nervous.”

A pause. Franziska just stared at him for a moment. “And that means what, exactly?”

“Well, she only seems to be nervous when she mentions where she was standing," he said. "So that stands to reason that she’s lying about her location."

For the first time, Franziska genuinely looked perplexed. “I'm…Even if that mattered in the slightest, what would that have anything to do with this case?”

“W-Well…” Apollo looked down, poking at the diagram. “Trucy and Jaine were here, by the back door of the bar. Closer to the main street. Trucy hit Jaine, and ran this way…and the witness was…here.” He cocked his head. “But if she was lying about that…she’d be…here? But why—ACK—”

The whip cracked. “I grow tired of your foolish drivel. Tell me, Mr. No-Name Defense Attorney. Even if you had more proof than a witness’s fidgeting, what could that possibly prove? Why would she bother telling such a foolish lie?”

“Uh, does anyone know what’s on the other side of this alley?” Apollo asked, looking up.

Franziska looked at her own version of the diagram. “Unfortunately for you, there is nothing of note in that direction,” she said. “Some residential, but that area is mostly unused.”

“That’s not true.”

Everyone jumped, turning toward Trucy. She’d sat forward in her seat. “People went that way all the time. You go that way if you don’t want to go near the traffic cam on the main road.” When no one responded, she shrugged. “I usually went that way so no one would ask where I was going. I didn’t know him well, but Mr. Jaine and his friends would do that too. Less lights.”

“Trucy,” Mrs. Johnson hissed.

“What?” she shot back. “Anything helps, right?”

“Why wouldn’t Ms. Skye want to be seen?” Apollo asked.

“What’re you talking about?” Ema snapped. “I just said I was street-side, didn’t I? Why would I care if someone saw me? I was walking home from class.”

Apollo looked at her, a new look in his eyes. Curiosity. Determination. And something else. “Hey, Ms. von Karma, we didn’t get there yet, but what was the motive we were working with?”

“Ah yes, motive,” Franziska said, leaning in and looking relaxed. “That was for the next witness, so if you’d like, we can move onto—”

“No, no, I get that, but what was it? Before our current witness leaves, what is the motive Trucy has for OW!”

Franziska whipped him. “You would do well not to interrupt your betters when they speak, Mr. No-Name Defense Attorney,” she snapped. “As for motive, we believe she had none.”

The judge blinked. “No motive? But how can that be? That doesn’t make any sense”

“Well, certainly not, unless she did not make the first attack.” Franziska waggled her finger. “Clearly, it was a self-defense measure, after an unstable man tried to attack her. Tragic, but all too common. But that lines up well with the defendant’s own testimony, does it not?”

Apollo blanched a bit, but continued on. “Okay, but Trucy didn’t know Mr. Jaine when he attacked. At least not personally.”

“Yes, but they were often in proximity to each other,” Franziska said. “Proximity breeds contempt, as they say.”

“…Wh—Nobody says th—Whatever,” he shook his head. “The point is, according to Trucy’s testimony, he seemed to have mistook her for someone else.” He fished through the court record, pulling out a copy of Trucy’s statement. “The man went after her under the assumption that she was someone who owed him money. This tells us what?"

The court was silent for a moment. Phoenix coughed. "Uh, what does that tell you, Apollo?"

He sighed. "Well, it tells us that he was looking for someone who owed him money," he explained. "Someone who, while he didn't know her well, looked enough like Trucy to mix them up. Someone who, while wearing a mask, likely had a similar height, build, and hair color as Trucy does. And Trucy isn’t the only one with proximity to the guy. After all, he sold pretty exclusively to University students, didn’t he?" And Apollo grinned.

…oh no…

“H-Hey Apollo?” Phoenix said.

“What?”

The door opened. “Err, Ms. von Karma,” came the bailiff’s voice, “we have the results of the search you issued.”

“Excellent.” She turned. “Your Honor, in lieu of listening to this fool’s baseless conjecture, I’d like to request a ten-minute recess, if you please.”

“Err, wait, I wasn’t done—”

“Well, did you have evidence to present, Mr. Justice?” The judge asked, already holding his gavel.

He wilted. “…w-well, no, but—”

“Then I think we can grant Ms. von Karma her recess.” And he calmly banged the gavel.

The court began to file out. Apollo frowned to himself as he headed out, and Phoenix quickly caught up to him. “Hey Apollo? What, uh, what was that all about just now?”

Apollo glanced up at him. “Well, you kept telling me that she was lying,” he said. “There is a connection there. If Trucy isn’t a murderer, shouldn’t we explore every option.”

“I mean…yeah, but…”

“All the evidence on hand points to Trucy,” he said, exiting into the lobby. “And we know that Trucy did hit the guy. The issue is, did he die when she hit him or not? According to the witness, she didn’t see anyone else approach the body. So based on current evidence, we have two possibilities, don’t we?” He gave Phoenix a small smile. “I’m not gonna lose again, Mr. Wright.”

“Y…Y-Yeah, good to hear it!” he squeaked. “I’m, uh…running to the bathroom real quick. I’ll meet you and Trucy in the defendant lobby.”

“Sure thing.” And he turned, looking for the first time like he felt confident.

This is fine, Phoenix thought wildly, turning to walk off. I believe in Apollo. And I believe in Trucy. They’re going to be fine.

But…

He paused, biting his lip.

But Ema didn’t do it either, right? Ema couldn’t be the solution. Right?

…right???

He shook his head. No. I believe in my friends. Trucy isn’t a killer, but neither is Ema. There had to be some sort of explanation, and Phoenix had to make sure Apollo found it.

“—bsolutely disgraceful.”

“Hmm?” Phoenix glanced toward the noise, pausing on his walk. That voice was familiar. And it was coming from one of the nearby rooms, soundproofed door slightly ajar. He moved closer, listening in.

“A recess? You were handed the perfect evidence, and the perfect witness, and you need more just to do your job? I could’ve finished this trial in five minutes.”

“Yes, papa.”

“Two minutes, even. A disgrace, that’s what this is. A disgrace to the von Karma name.”

“Yes, papa.”

“Are you listening to me?”

A pause. He could head Franziska taking a deep breath. “Of course, papa,” she gritted out, and Phoenix hadn’t realized that you could so clearly embody an eye roll. “You always say such…valuable things. Please, go on. Remind me why I am a failure. I’m sure I have plenty of time to waste.”

“My advice would be wasted on you, clearly,” Manfred von Karma snapped back. “You’re stubborn.”

“As are you, papa,” came the clipped reply. “But unlike you, I have better things to do than complain about how someone else does my job.”

“You were supposed to speak to that witness before the trial,” he said. “You had every opportunity to make a deal with her. You have plenty of leverage. Yet you waste time with these distractions—”

“Papa, you realize that I have yet to lose a case, yes?” A small laugh. “I do not know if you’ve noticed, but I’ve outgrown you, papa. Now all I have to do is wait out the clock until you expire, and then I’ll finally be free of you for good—”

 There was a quick thwunk, then silence. Phoenix swallowed, leaning closer. “You’d do well to remember your place, Franziska.”

 “Of course, papa. And you yours.”

And then Phoenix jumped back as a figure shoved the door open.

Manfred von Karma had aged. His sallow face had grown sallow-er. His narrow eyes were sunken. He’d grown gaunter, paler. But the most notable change was the wheelchair he sat in. It was sleek and modern, though von Karma seemed to ignore the steering mechanism in favor of rolling the wheels himself. He turned it easily, almost running over Phoenix’s foot. “Out of the way,” he snapped.

“…yes sir,” Phoenix said, watching as he passed. The man who had driven the person he loved to his death. Right there in front of him. And there was nothing he could do about it.

CRACK

“ACK!” Phoenix jumped.

Franziska scowled at him from the doorway. “What’s this? The little No-Name Defense Attorney sent a spy? How quaint.”

“N-No, just looking for the bathroom,” he stammered.

“Then you should get going.” She motioned past with a smug ‘after you’ look.

He stared at her for a moment. Franziska von Karma. Genius prodigy. Unbeatable prosecutor. Sore loser. Violent jerk. They’d never gotten along. He’d never liked her. She was mean and cruel and altogether unpleasant to be around.

Still. For a moment, he couldn’t help but wonder what would happen to her next. When Apollo won. When the unbeatable von Karma was defeated. And for some reason, that made his chest hurt.

“…Good luck, Ms. von Karma” he said.

She raised an eyebrow at him. “Luck is unnecessary for crushing bugs under my heels,” she said with a smirk. “But thank you for the well-wishes.”

“Consulting with the enemy now, Wright?”

Phoenix felt a chill shoot down his spine. He looked over, toward the figure walking down the hallway. “I was hoping to find at least one of you around here.”

“Mr. Gavin,” Phoenix greeted. “Didn’t think your trial would end so soon. Good job.”

Kristoph laughed. “Ah, quite the compliment, if a little premature. No, the prosecution is just trying to get some last-minute evidence through some sort of analysis. I figured I could see how Justice was holding up while I had a few minutes to spare.”

“Mr. Kristoph Gavin.”

Franziska stood rigid in the doorway, her self-satisfied smirk dissolving entirely. Her cold eyes focused on Kristoph, hand tightening around the whip. “Here to watch me tear apart your cute little no-name protégé?”

He glanced at her, as if just noticing she was there. “Ah yes, the lesser von Karma,” he said cheerily. “I keep forgetting you think you’re a real prosecutor instead of just your father’s nursemaid. How is he doing by the way? I hear he’s still quite ill—”

The whip struck across Kristoph’s face before Phoenix could even blink. For a moment, the world went still. No movement. No sound. Then there was a small crash, as Kristoph’s glasses shattered across the floor.

No one moved. Not Kristoph. Not Franziska. Certainly not Phoenix.

After an eternity, Kristoph blinked down toward his glasses, smile a bit strained. “Ms. von Karma,” he said softly, “I hope you realize those were expensive.”

“Do not speak about my father, you venomous snake.”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said.

Franziska looked him over a moment, then turned. “I am Franziska von Karma,” she said. “And a von Karma is perfect in every way. You’d do well to remember your place, Mr. Kristoph Gavin.”

“Touché,” Kristoph said, watching as she walked off. “You’d best watch yourself too.”

Oh jeez oh jeez oh god oh jeez “M-Mr. Gavin, we should get going,” Phoenix squeaked. “Apollo is probably wondering where I am.”

“Hmm.” Kristoph seemed to consider it for a moment, before turned toward Phoenix. “Yes, you’re right I suppose. Lead the way, Wright.”

Phoenix turned, and headed toward the Defendant Lobby. Then Kristoph gave a sharp cough. “Erm, Wright?”

“Yeah?” Phoenix glanced at him.

Kristoph was rubbing at his temples, eyes shut tightly, annoyed smile curling his lips. “When I said lead the way, I was unfortunately being quite literal.” He motioned down, toward the glass on the floor. “I seem to be, uh…having a bit of a problem now.”

“…oh.”

Chapter Text

“You can’t see anything?! Anything at all?!”

Kristoph sat on the couch in the defendant lobby, looking vaguely toward the rest of them with a rather dower face. “Which part of ‘legally blind’ are you not understanding, Justice?” he asked smoothly. “Is it the legal part? If so, you may wish to consider a change in profession.”

“S-Sorry,” Apollo said sheepishly, scratching at his head. “But, uh, aren’t you still in the middle of a case? What are you going to do?”

Kristoph gave a deep sigh, leaning his head back. “That is a pickle indeed.”

Phoenix and Apollo stood around the couch, frowning down at Kristoph as he rubbed his temples. Trucy stood a few feet back, watching curiously from a small wooden chair. Certainly not the end of the recess any of them had been expecting.

“Well, the thing is, we already have a simple solution,” Kristoph said, looking up at them. “Not the ideal one, but desperate times call for desperate measures.”

“What’s your solution?” Phoenix asked.

He laughed. “You, of course.”

Phoenix made a face. “Huh?”

“You have a perfectly good set of eyes,” he said, waving a hand. “And I have to assume you’re literate. Instead of assisting Justice on the Johnson case, you join me on mine and act as my eyes.”

He felt his stomach sinking. “B-But I’m already…we’ve already been working so hard on this case and—”

“And what, you don’t think Justice can do this on his own?” There was a pause, as Kristoph gave him a coy smile. “And what happened to all that talk about believing in him.”

“That’s not what I mean and you know it,” Phoenix snapped quickly, seeing Apollo looking over at him out of the corner of his eye. “I just…I’m invested in this case now. I-I want to know the outcome.”

“Well, I can’t say I’m uninvested in the trial, all things considered,” Kristoph said. “But it isn’t your case, is it?”

“W-Well…that…”

“As we’ve established, you’re not a defense attorney,” he said. “Justice is. You’re simply the assistant. And weirdly enough, you are my employee, not Justice’s.”

Kristoph couldn’t see the glare, but Phoenix hoped to god that he could feel it. “…right.”

“Speaking of which, Justice?”

Apollo immediately stood straighter. “Yeah?”

Kristoph reached out, grabbing Apollo’s shoulder. “As unconventional as this trial has been, from the bottom of my heart,” and he leaned closer, “I want you to destroy her.”

Apollo blinked a few times in shock. “O-Oh. Right. Of course, Mr. Gavin.”

He patted Apollo’s shoulder, smiling. “Make me proud, Justice.”

The change was instantaneous. Apollo perked up, eyes wide. “Of…Of course, Mr. Gavin!” he said, a little breathlessly. “I won’t let you down.”

“Ms. Enigmar, Mr. Justice,” came the bailiff’s voice, “court will resume momentarily.”

“Alright,” Apollo said, cracking his neck, a determined fire in his eyes. “Here comes Justice!” And he marched toward the door.

Trucy couldn’t help but giggle a bit, as she started to follow. Phoenix straightened up. “Wait, Trucy!”

Trucy turned. “Yes, Mr. Wright?”

“Uh, one second, Mr. Gavin.” Phoenix quickly moved toward Trucy. “Listen. Can you stand at the bench for me?”

Trucy looked confused. “Me? Do they let defendants do that?”

“I’ve seen it a few times,” Phoenix said. “Listen. Apollo is a good lawyer. You’re going to be in good hands.”

“He seemed like he knew what he was doing,” she agreed. “But why do you want me at the bench, then?”

He glanced back at Kristoph, who was staring at the ceiling. He looked for all the world like he was deep in thought, but there was something about the way he leaned his head that told Phoenix he was listening. Definitely shouldn’t say it directly…

“Have you ever played poker, Trucy?”

For a moment, he thought he saw Kristoph’s knuckles go white.

Trucy gave a little grin. “Definitely,” she said. “My dad taught me a while ago.”

“And you’re good at reading tells, right.”

The smile faded, a look of recognition passing over her face. “…pretty good at it,” she admitted cautiously. “Why?”

He nodded. “I think…Apollo would do well to learn from you. Alright?”

“A…Alright…” she said, nodding uncertainly. “I think I know what you mean…?”

“You’re gonna be fine, Trucy. You’re in good hands. I promise.”

She nodded, taking a deep breath. Then she gave him the most dazzling stage-smile she could muster. “Well, the show must go on,” she said. “Good luck, Mr. Wright.” And she turned and left, leaving Phoenix standing in the center of the room.

“Ever the pillar of confidence,” Kristoph murmured, glancing in his direction as the door to the lobby shut. “No words of comfort for me in my time of need?”

Phoenix rolled his eyes. “I think you’ll be fine,” he said, and Kristoph laughed.

“Fair enough. Now if you could lead me back toward my trial, I would greatly appreciate it.” He stood up, fingers resting on the arm of the couch as he regained his bearings.

“…sure.” Phoenix walked over.

Kristoph stood there, eyes narrowed, not quite focused on anything. If it were anyone else, the word helpless would’ve sprang to mind. But even now, Kristoph found a new way to trap him. Best to go along with it.

Phoenix frowned at him. “Do you, uh…what, do you need me to hold your hand, Mr. Gavin…?”

“I’d rather you not,” Kristoph said with a chuckle. “I’m more nearsighted than farsighted. And the blue suit isn’t exactly easy to miss.” He shrugged. “Just lead the way, and don’t cut any tight corners.”

“R…right…”

They started off, Phoenix holding the door to the lobby open for Kristoph. It was uncomfortable, to say the least, walking slowly down the hall together. Neither of them spoke as Phoenix led them to the elevator. Eventually, Phoenix had to say something. “Which floor is your trial on?”

“Fourth,” Kristoph said.

Phoenix nodded, turned toward the buttons. He took a final look out, at the hallway, toward the courtroom, toward Trucy and Apollo, toward Ema and Franziska. Toward his friends.

“Why would I be afraid of Mr. Gavin?”

And with one last, steadying breath, Phoenix pressed the button, and the doors shut.

The elevator rumbled upward. He could feel Kristoph watching him, but kept his eyes on the door. Alone with a murderer. Alone with Kristoph. And all the while, having no idea what was happening to his daughter.

“You seem anxious, Wright.”

He swallowed. “I am anxious,” he said.

“For Justice? If you’ll excuse the pun…”

“Yeah, no, it’s fine.” He glanced toward Kristoph, who seemed to be chuckling a bit at his own joke. “I do believe in him,” he insisted. “But…I wanted to know the outcome, y’know?”

“Well, it’s not like you’ll never get that information,” Kristoph said, as the elevator dinged open. “Win or lose, someone is going to have to inform us. Unless you plan on abandoning me to the wolves.”

Phoenix sighed, as they stepped into the hallway. “I guess that’s true,” he said. “But it’s not comforting.”

“Certainly not. But the world isn’t built for comfort,” Kristoph said. “Come, I’ll explain to you the details of my case.”

Their shoes echoed loudly on the tiled floors. Phoenix couldn’t help but notice how empty the hallway was, with just the two of them. “Who’s the prosecutor?” he asked.

“One of the Paynes,” came the clipped reply. “I can’t keep them straight, they’re equally incompetent.”

Phoenix sighed. “Great. The Paynes. Why do you even need me here?”

“Well, it would be an insult to the Gavin name if I had to step away from a trial against someone that incapable,” Kristoph said.

Phoenix nodded. Then, realizing Kristoph couldn’t see him, grunted a “Sure.”

“You’re allowed to hold a conversation with me, you know.”

Phoenix blinked. “Hmm?” He glanced over at Kristoph, half thinking he’d heard him wrong. But Kristoph was frowning at him.

“We haven’t really gotten the chance to talk,” Kristoph said. “I mean, I’ve heard Justice go on and on about you, but you seem to go quiet around me. It almost hurts all three of my feelings.”

Phoenix couldn't help but snort, before cringing. Damn it don't laugh at his jokes. Frowning, he tucked his hands into his pockets. “I don’t know if we have that much to talk about,” he countered.

Kristoph laughed. “I don’t know,” he said. “I have this odd feeling that we’re not quite as different as you’d think.”

Pausing at the door to the defendant lobby, Phoenix looked at him. “…what do you mean by that?” he asked.

Kristoph considered him for a moment. “Let me counter that question with my own. Why the fascination with Justice’s bracelet?”

Even without being able to see, Kristoph’s gaze felt piercing. It was almost like old times. “What do you mean?”

“I have to assume that was your first conversation,” he said, moving past Phoenix to slip through the doorway. “You enter the picture, and suddenly, he starts asking questions about it.”

“Why do you care about Apollo’s bracelet?” Phoenix shot back, entering the room behind him.

“Honestly, I don’t,” he replied. “Or rather, I didn’t. It’s a ridiculous-looking thing, I simply found it obtrusive. But the bracelet is simply a symptom.” He looked toward Phoenix, crossing his arms. “He keeps…questioning things. Like he’s suddenly unsatisfied with my advice. Like he thinks he can handle himself on his own.” He shrugged, shaking his head. “It doesn’t do well to constantly set the poor boy up for failure, Wright.”

“So, what, do you want him to fail?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Kristoph said, glancing around, squinting toward the couch nearby as he moved toward it. “Want, no. Expect is more apt.”

Phoenix glared now, knowing Kristoph couldn’t see him. “He’s not a bad lawyer.”

“No, it’s true,” Kristoph said, slowly easing himself onto the couch. “He’s competent. Smart. Passionate.” If Phoenix didn’t know any better, there was a look of genuine fondness on Kristoph’s face as he sat back. “He’s a good kid. But he needs direction. Guidance.”

Phoenix watched him closely, thumbing the Magatama. “What exactly…do you think about Apollo?” he asked slowly.

Kristoph raised an eyebrow, considering the question for a moment. “He’s sharp, certainly,” he said. “Loud. Abrasive at times. One of those starry-eyed dreamers. Always happy to help others. Too naïve for his own good, but I suppose that’s what I’m here for.”

“In what way?” Phoenix pressed.

“Hmm.” Kristoph frowned to himself. “Well, he’s the sort that wears his emotions on his sleeve. Lets others take advantage of him. And he’s always finding some new and inventive way to get himself into trouble.” He chuckled at that. “I keep him safe. Sort of like…” He mulled it over a moment. “It’s sort of like raising a puppy, save for the talking and the…” He cut himself off. “Well. He needs someone to take care of him, keep him out of trouble. He needs…me, I suppose.”

Phoenix bit his tongue on a retort. After a breath, he regained his composure. “And what do you get out of this arrangement?”

Kristoph paused, something flickering in his eyes. Something cold. Something calculating. “I suspect something similar to what you want.”

They watched each other a moment, Phoenix unable to think of a response. Finally, Kristoph continued, brushing his bangs. “I don’t know if you’d believe me, but I do consider Justice to be someone I care about,” Kristoph continued. “It's sad, really, how lost the poor boy was before I found him. I took him under my wing because he needed guidance. I keep him around because he’s…” he thought for a second, “…receptive to it.”

“…is that right?”

“Why would I be afraid of Mr. Gavin?”

“So long as Justice needs me, I will be there to take care of him,” Kristoph finished. Then, “It’s different for you though.”

That made him pause. “…how so?”

“As I said, you do remind me quite a bit of myself,” he said. “You don’t need the same guidance that Justice does, and you certainly aren’t intimidated by me the way so many are. You share that…dreamer-like quality with him, but you have this conviction about you. This self-assurance. It’s genuinely quite fascinating.” He smiled a bit. “You always seem to know how to…motivate people, Wright. That’s what I find so interesting about you.”

Phoenix stared back at him, mouth run dry. He could feel his fingernails breaking skin on his palms.

“From what I’ve heard from Justice, you understand people. You always know what to say, and who to talk to, to get your way.” Kristoph leaned forward, letting his arms rest on his knees. “It’s a gift. One I admire quite a bit. Except when the things you want belong to me.” He gave a smile. “You want something, Wright. But you would do well to remember who is in charge here.”

“Mr. Gavin?” The court bailiff had popped his head into the room. “Court will resume momentarily.”

“Well, that’s our cue.” Kristoph stood up. “Lead the way, Wright.”

///

• Read through the court record
• How fast can we get through a trial

///

It was Winston Payne. That made no difference, but Phoenix still made note as the poor man floundered across the courtroom. Phoenix stood next to Kristoph, reading off the information in the court record when needed. Kristoph was confident and calm, of course, even using Phoenix as his eyes.

The case wasn’t simple, exactly, but Kristoph handled himself fine. Mr. Payne seemed to be hoping his new DNA test would be able to secure a victory. Kristoph hardly seemed bothered by the new information, easily able to counter it.

“Evidence is everything in a court of law. And your evidence is particularly flimsy. Hardly the making of an airtight case.”

There was barely any tension to the battle. Which was fine by Phoenix, who had more than enough tension for the two of them. He kept shifting in place, hands occasionally drifting into his pockets. Neither his phone nor the Magatama stirred.

Every word was like a brick stacked upon his back. His foot kept tapping on the floor. Hurry up. Hurry up. I don’t care about this case. Hurry up.

“Wright, if you could cut that out, you’re almost as bad as Justice.”

“Sorry, Mr. Gavin.”

“Good. Read me Gibbons’ testimony if you would.”

He was breaking out into a cold sweat by now, as the trial droned on. His mind wandered quickly. Apollo and Trucy, Franziska and Ema. Kay and Gumshoe. Kristoph.

You know how to motivate people.

We’re not quite as different as you think.

Except when the things you want belong to me.

Why would I be afraid of Mr. Gavin?

Phoenix inhaled slowly, glancing at the man standing beside him. His eyes were closed as he listened to Mr. Payne and the younger judge talk. He sat in silence. Calm. Easy smile settled in the corners of his mouth.

He was perfectly fine. As always. It was hard to catch Kristoph off guard. He was always so sure of himself. He always knew more than he let on.

…not quite as different…

“Your theory is interesting,” Kristoph spoke up, catching Mr. Payne’s attention, “if ultimately flawed. Actually, those DNA results are quite beneficial for me.”

“H-How so?”

Kristoph snapped a finger. “Wright? If you would?”

Phoenix glanced down at the court record. “…according to the court record, the fingerprints from earlier put the defendant on the scene sometime after the fingerprints had been wiped…”

Was this what dying felt like? Was this purgatory? Hell? Maybe he really had been dead all this time, and all his hard work was leading him to this specific moment.

The case dragged on. Payne just would not give up, droning on with a self-important bluster that even the judge seemed annoyed by. Everyone knew how the case would end. Why prolong it?

You know how to motivate people.

Why would I be afraid of Mr. Gavin?

You would do well to remember who is in charge here.

He shut his eyes tightly. Trucy. Apollo. Ema. God, he wished he were anywhere but here.

Which was better? Knowing, or not knowing? 

It took almost an hour before the judge conceded that Payne’s evidence was lacking. But in the end, and to the surprise of no one, the gavel fell, and the court let out a collective breath.

“Not really an interesting trial,” Kristoph mused, rolling his neck as Phoenix packed up Kristoph’s things. “I suppose I should apologize for dragging you along.”

“It’s fine, Mr. Gavin.” He closed the suitcase. The court emptied around them. Slowly the din became a soft murmur.

Kristoph looked over toward him, eyes still unfocused as Phoenix led them out. As they stepped through the doors to the lobby, Kristoph scanned the room. “Well, good news.”

“What’s that?”

“I don’t see the color red. Justice is likely still at trial.”

Phoenix frowned at him. “What makes you say that?”

“Well, I feel he’d come to meet us up here if his trial was out,” he said. Then, “You may be in luck yet. Though you may need to find an excuse if you want to get back into the trial.”

“What do you mean?”

“Do I need to spell it, Wright?” He asked, shaking his head. Then he turned, making a shooing motion. “Go on. Be free.”

“Is that…Is that permission to leave?” Phoenix asked.

“I can get a bailiff, make them help me pack up my stuff.” He continued to shoo Phoenix away. “Go ahead. I can tell you want to.”

Phoenix set Kristoph’s case down, but he hesitated. “Why?”

“Why what? Why aren’t I keeping you here? I’m not a cruel man, Wright.” He finally met Phoenix’s eyes.

“…right.”

“You’re an interesting person,” he repeated. “You seem like a powerful friend, and a dangerous adversary." He scooped up his suitcase. "I’d much prefer us to be friends, Wright. You have skills I admire, and I have power, friends in high places, all sorts of resources you could use.” And Kristoph smiled at him. “I would like to be friends, Wright. Just as long as you don’t give me a reason not to be.”

Phoenix took a breath. Finally, he turned. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he murmured, and he made a beeline for the door.

///

The elevator chugged open. The hallway was empty. Kristoph was right, Apollo’s trial was still in session. He could vaguely hear a gavel through the doors to the courtroom. He could even hear a muffled Objection.

The bailiff guarding the door likely wouldn’t let him inside unless he had a reason to go in. He didn’t have new evidence, or anything to offer. He walked toward courtroom number two, wondering what to do while he waited for a recess, if there was one. He probably had a bit of time to spare.

It was when he entered the main lobby that finally he caught sight of someone else. Someone pacing the length of the hall across from him. Back and forth, forward and back. Eyes focused on the ground. Hand still tight on her side bag.

Ema Skye was pacing adjacent the hallway, like a caged rat. And that seemed like a place to start.

Chapter Text

“You alright, Miss Skye?”

The words felt foreign on his tongue. Miss Skye. Like she was some stranger. Like he hadn’t saved her life one dreary winter.

For her part, Ema paused her pacing to look up at Phoenix. “…fine.”

He hung in the doorway, watching for a moment as Ema looked him over. This hallway was empty too, other than a wood bench and two vending machines. No people, at least, were hanging by the side rooms, other than the two of them.

Ema turned and walked back up the length of the hallway. She slowed by the vending machines. “They don’t have Snackoos in this one,” she said, jerking her head towards it.

He glanced over. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“You’re with the defense, right?” She walked to the far window, sighed, and turned around, walking back toward Phoenix.

“…that’s right,” he said. “I’m the assistant at Gavin Law Offices.”

“I’ve heard of you guys,” Ema said. “Gavin’s one of the best. They talked about him at the prosecutor’s office, back in the day.”

Phoenix watched her make another lap, trying to decide how to respond. “Your sister was the chief prosecutor for a while, wasn’t she?”

Ema paused again. “…you know who I am?” she asked over her shoulder.

“I was a defense attorney back in the day. Me and Lana knew of each other. I recognized you immediately.”

She sighed again, turning to lean against the wall facing the vending machines. “Great. Whatever. What do you want?”

What did he want? He considered the question for a moment, looking at the young woman in front of him. What did he want from Ema Skye?

“…I don’t want you to be the answer, either.”

She raised an eyebrow. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“You’re waiting back here by the holding rooms,” he said. “Even though you’re not testifying. So I figure you haven’t been fully dismissed yet.”

“The attorney wanted me as a suspect,” she said. Then under her breath, “What a joke.”

“Well, you have to understand, Apollo believes in his client’s innocence,” Phoenix replied, walking into the hallway, passing Ema to sit on the bench. “And if he believes Trucy is innocent, he has to believe someone else is guilty.”

“I didn’t kill Jaine,” she said. “I don’t give a damn what he says, or what evidence he pulls out of his ass, I did not kill anyone.”

Phoenix paused. He took a deep breath, and pulled the Magatama from his pocket to rest on his lap. “Miss Skye, did you have anything to do with Jaine’s death?”

A moment of hesitation. “…I didn’t.”

And the chains erupted.

Damn it. Damn it. God damn it. The chains receded, as did the locks. For the first time in a while, he really didn’t want to break them.

“I don’t understand you, Ema.”

“In what way?” She scowled at him. “I didn’t kill anyone. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Then why are you lying?”

Her eyes narrowed. “I’m not.”

He shook his head. “I just…don’t understand.”

“Well, I don’t need you to understand,” she said irritably. “You’re with the defense. You’re trying to get the girl off the hook, and it’s clear you’re willing to throw me under the bus to do it.”

He watched her pacing again. He wasn’t going to get anything out of her with the Magatama, even if he wanted to. What evidence did he have? Sighing, he rubbed the warm stone with his thumb. He didn’t have evidence, and Ema was stubborn. What other tools did he have? He shut his eyes, trying to think.

“I like to think of it like chess.”

“Great, so unplayable and completely impossible to understand?”

“Rooks don’t move that way, Wright.”

Phoenix grunted, moving the castle thing back to its initial spot. Edgeworth was smart, but a teacher he was not. “Fine, fine. But what’s the point of that if you have a Magatama?”

“Not everyone has a magic rock in their pockets at all times, Wright,” Edgeworth snapped. “Some of us have to gather information the old fashioned way.”

“And that way is…?”

Edgeworth rolled his eyes, reaching over and moving a piece for Phoenix. “Keep them talking. Don’t let them know what you know. Those with something to hide will inevitably give something away.”

Phoenix scowled at the chessboard. “Sure. I’ll keep that in mind if I lose my magic rock,” he muttered, moving the pointy piece, as Edgeworth groaned.

He opened his eyes, staring down at said magic rock. Keep someone talking, huh? He looked up at Ema, squeezing the Magatama in his hand before stowing it away. Better that than nothing.

“I don’t believe Trucy is a murderer,” he started. “But even if you’re lying, I know you’re not either.”

“Wonderful. You instill me with confidence,” she muttered.

“You have to have a good reason for lying," he said. "I trust that much at least."

"And what makes you say that?"

"Same reason I don't think Trucy is a murderer," he said. When she didn't say anything, he added, "Same reason I don't think Lana was a murderer."

Ema’s shoulders stiffened. When she didn’t say anything, Phoenix continued. “People lie on the stand all the time. Your sister lied on the stand too. It's not about the what, but about the why—”

“Shut up,” she snarled. “Don’t talk about my sister, alright?”

"...sorry," he said.

"My sister confessed," she said, turning, face a shadow. "Everyone knows she did it. Don't kid yourself. You don't know anything."

He’d agitated her. He wasn’t sure if that were good for him or not. But she wasn’t leaving, just pacing. Back and forth, like a caged animal.

“My name is Phoenix, by the way. Phoenix Wright.”

Ema rolled her eyes. “Nice to meet you,” she muttered, stopping at the vending machine.

It didn’t get any easier, did it, having to reintroduce himself to his friends.

“Why are you so sure the girl didn’t do it?”

“Hmm?”

Ema hadn’t turned toward him, but her voice was steady. “That Trucy kid. What makes you so sure she didn’t kill the guy?”

He shrugged, hands in his pocket. “Intuition I guess.”

She snorted. “Intuition,” she muttered. “Intuition is just a feedback loop of pattern recognition. It’s confirmation bias. Intuition isn’t facts. Intuition isn’t proof. You can’t use intuition in a thesis. You need hard data to back it up, or you’d be the laughing stock of the scientific community.”

“And what proof do you have?”

“I saw it!” She rounded on him. “I saw her attack him. What other proof do I need?”

“You saw Trucy punch a man and run away. She admitted to as much.” He shrugged. “I just think if you’re making a scientific hypothesis, your evidence should be based on stronger stuff.”

She considered that for a moment, glare fading into a glower. She looked down at her bag, mouth pursed. “...You know, years ago, eye witness testimony was the strongest evidence one could submit,” she said. “Before fingerprinting and DNA, of course.”

“I see…” he said. "I guess the science is usually stronger evidence though, huh."

“…scientifically speaking, of course, eyewitness testimony is far from being the decisive evidence people think it is.”

That made him sit up a bit. “Is that right?”

“Eyewitness testimony can often be misled, even accidentally,” she said. “It’s not just someone lying, it’s someone hearing a police officer talk about evidence, and the mind just unconsciously fits it into the memory. Or maybe unwitting biases replace someone in your memory for someone else, and the memory just solidifies that way. Tangible proof is far more reliable. It doesn’t get confused. It can’t lie on the stand. It doesn’t care about anything or anyone. It just is.” Her eyes had drifted toward the window behind Phoenix, the one leading out to a small courtyard below them. “…I gave up on being a forensic scientist a while ago. All that stuff about helping people solve crimes. Now I just want to research.”

He had this feeling she wasn’t talking to him, not really. But he pressed on anyway. Keep her talking. “What made you change your mind?”

“If evidence lies, then what’s the point of it?” she murmured. “Eyewitness testimony, hard evidence, even Lana…” She paused a moment, then elbowed the vending machine. A small bag fell out. Grabbing it, she walked over, taking a seat next to Phoenix on the bench. “Science, facts, hard proof, they’re supposed to be the things that make sense. They’re the things that can’t change, that will point you to the truth no matter what. But I’m just as biased as the rest of them. I never wanted to see the truth. Science, facts, the world isn’t made to make sense. So I gave up trying. All I want to do is observe.”

They sat for a moment. Ema fiddled with the bag, before popping the top open. “Swiss Roll?”

“Sure.” He took one.

“It’s no Snackoo, but I need something sugary.”

Phoenix tapped his knees a bit. “Do you trust your eyewitness testimony?”

“…It’s easier to believe she did it,” Ema said.

“But you aren’t sure?”

“I shouldn’t be talking to you,” she muttered, leaning back. “You’re part of the defense, right? So you’re still trying to make your case and throw me under the bus.”

“Well, I don’t see a courtroom here,” he said, motioning around with his Swiss Roll. “And they’re not letting me in unless I have something to give them. Whatever you tell me, it’s not going to affect what’s going on in there.”

“Sure,” she said, taking a bite. “Whatever.”

“…you’re not a bad person,” Phoenix said, pulling the roll apart to nibble at it. “So I like to imagine you have a good reason to hide things.”

“…intuition, huh?” she muttered, chewing. “Sorry to break it to you, but I’m not that good of a person, either. I don’t have too many people left to care about, so I don’t.” She gave him a sidelong glance. “I do things for me and me alone.”

“That right?” He gave her a half-smile. “You happy with that?”

“It’s not a matter of happy or sad. It just kinda is.” She crumpled the wrapper in her hand. “Why do you care? Shouldn’t you be saving that Trucy girl?”

“…are you happy, Ema?”

She considered him for a moment. “No,” she admitted, softly. “Not in particular. But I haven’t been in a while.” A half-shrug.

“Hmm.” He continued to eat the Swiss Roll in silence. Ema sat beside him, looking deep in thought.

“I’m not lying about what I saw,” she said eventually.

“I believe you,” he said. “But that’s not the whole truth, is it?”

“Why am I even talking to you?” she muttered.

“Because you have something to get off your chest, and I’m convenient.” He looked at her a moment. "It's hard to get rid of the desire to do the right thing," he said.

She stared forward, quiet, jaw set. For a moment, she looked like she would speak. Instead, she shoved more Swiss Roll into her mouth.

He crossed his arms, watching closely. “You’re not a murderer,” he said. “But you don’t have a solid alibi either. Apollo can use that to his advantage. And when he figures out your lie, you’re going to be out of luck.”

“And how do you know he’ll figure out my lie?” she asked flatly.

“I don’t know. Lies have a tendency to be found out eventually,” he said. “Especially when you’re up against several human lie-detectors.”

She frowned at the ceiling. “And if the truth breaks my alibi? If the truth ruins everything?” A head shake. “I don’t care about this shit anymore. I just want to live my life. I don’t care about the law. I don’t care about the truth. Hell, I barely care about this case. I was done with Marty Jaine and his garbage, I don’t feel like letting him screw me over from the grave.”

Well, that was new information. “Ema, did you know Jaine before the murder.

Her face turned stony. “What do you mean by that?” she asked calmly.

He looked her over, remembering Apollo’s theory. “…the guy attacked Trucy thinking she was someone else.”

 “Dunno why that would be.”

“Ms. Skye?” A bailiff was peaking down the hallway, looking uncomfortable at interrupting. “You’ve been called back into the court…”

“Well, it was nice meetin’ you,” she said, cracking her neck as she stood to her feet. “But I have a trial to finish I guess.”

“Ema.”

She glanced down, raising an eyebrow. “What?”

“…I think you’re the one who gets to decide how this ends.”

She paused, shut her eyes, took a deep breath. “I think I am too,” she said softly. And she turned, white lab coat trailing behind her as she disappeared out the door.

Chapter Text

By the time Kristoph joined Phoenix in the defendant lobby, almost half an hour had passed. “I forgot that I drove here,” Kristoph muttered quietly. “I don’t suppose you could drive me home, Wright?”

Phoenix shook his head vaguely, only half listening from his seat on the couch. “Don't have a license.”

Kristoph frowned at him a moment, then sighed, glancing at his phone. “I’ll just make Justice order me an Uber.”

When he still didn’t answer, Kristoph sat down next to him, squinting at the small screen in his hand. “While I’m at it, I should file a report against Ms. von Karma, I suppose," he said, rubbing at the place on his nose where his glasses should've been resting. "Put it on the record that she owes me money.”

Phoenix risked a glance toward him as he typed away. He seemed relaxed. Annoyed, sure, but relaxed. Calm. The way he always was when they spent time together. It felt…nostalgic, in the worst way. Familiar. Almost relaxing, when you knew the venom was directed elsewhere. Almost.

What parts were carefully crafted? What parts were calculated? Was any part of him genuine? It was always hard to tell with Kristoph. Several layers of chitinous shell, and when you broke through, you found something invariably worse than before.

I have power, friends in high places, all sorts of resources you could use. I’d like for us to be friends, Wright.

How much did Kristoph suspect? He knew Kristoph was watching him closely, even if he pretended otherwise. He was waiting for an opening, waiting to see if Phoenix was a threat. And it was only a matter of time before one of them had to make their next move.

Phoenix was playing with fire, and he knew it. He was trying to manipulate a murderer. A cheater. A devil. And Kristoph was not one to be trifled with. Kristoph was calculating. He planned ahead, always setting one more trap behind him. Giving you his hand to drive a knife into your back.

So how much of this give and take was worth it? How much could he safely take, before the trap snapped shut behind him?

Before he could even dwell on that, the door swung open. Phoenix’s head snapped up.

Trucy stood in the doorway. Her hair stuck up a bit. Her eyes were wide. And when her eyes met Phoenix’s, she broke out into a wide, toothy grin.

“Mr. Wright!”

“Truc—”

She slammed into him with a hug as he stood up, almost knocking him back over. “Mr. Wright! Mr. Wright! We did it! Thank you thank you thank you thank you!”

“Wha—I don’t—”

“Come on, why does he get the hug?” Apollo stood in the doorway, looking a bit haggard. His cheek bore a red mark, a crack of a whip no doubt, but there was a lopsided smile on his face. “I’m the one that did the hard work.”

“You…what?!” Kristoph had straightened up now, shocked almost to silence. “Justice. Did you…?”

“I won.” His grin threatened to split his face in two. “I won, Mr. Gavin!”

“THIS IS AN OUTRAGE!” Franziska von Karma’s roar echoed through the room, making Apollo jump in a panic. “THIS COURT IS A SHAM! I AM PERFECT! I CANNOT LOSE TO SOME WORTHLESS, NO-NAME—”

Apollo quickly shut the door behind him.

For once, Kristoph seemed at a loss for words. Trucy, however, seemed to have plenty.

“It was amazing! Apollo was great! He kept arguing with Ms. von Karma and refused to let up, and it was Mr. Guire, can you believe that, and that Ema girl was being blackmailed and you were right, Mr. Wright, he was a natural! If he had a better poker face he could probably be some sort of poker champion!”

“That—I’m—Ema was what?”

Slowly, he was able to draw the story from the lot of them. About Ema meeting to pay off a debt, and running when she saw an altercation. About Ema trying to steal back all the evidence she was involved with a drug dealer, but finding it missing when she went to the scene. About a mysterious call threatening to reveal it to her school, to get her kicked out, destroy her scholarship. And from there, Apollo had finally begun to piece it all together.

Phoenix sat there, mind wheeling as the two talked back and forth, about Ema and Trucy's (ex-)manager and a million and one pieces of a puzzle. But ultimately, he couldn’t help but sigh in relief. Because he was right. Ema wasn’t a murderer.

“And once he was cornered, he actually confessed!” Apollo said, still looking almost shell shocked at the whole endeavor. “It was… It was…”

“It was amazing is what it was!” Trucy said. “Apollo was amazing!”

Kristoph stood to his feet. Carefully, he walked across the room, over toward Apollo, who slowly tensed as he approached. “Uh, M-Mr. Gavin—?”

He smiled, reached out, and pulled Apollo into a one-armed hug. “I suppose I stand corrected, Justice. Good job.”

Apollo immediately flushed as red as his suit, eyes going wide. “Wh—I—That—T-Thanks, Mr. Gavin!” he squeaked, looking bewildered.

Kristoph laughed lightly, patting Apollo's head. “Please don’t let it go to your head, of course.”

“Hah, yeah,” he said sheepishly. “Of course not. Besides, I doubt I would’ve gotten anywhere without Mr. Wright here. He did most of the investigating, and found the leads, and…” his smile faded a bit, “…and talked to that Ema girl, I think,” he finished. “She mentioned something about it.”

Kristoph looked over toward Phoenix, looking rather satisfied. “Well, he does seem to get things done,” he mused.

You know how to motivate people. We’re not quite as different as you think.

He ground his teeth. What I just did was nothing like Kristoph, he snapped at himself.

Of course not, came a reply in the back of his mind. When you manipulate people to do what you want, it’s always for their own good, isn’t it?

That’s not… But he couldn’t quite think of a rebuttal.

He was interrupted by the sound of Franziska’s shrieks of fury. Kristoph had turned, leaning back to crack open the door, just a little bit. “I’ve never realized I needed to hear something so badly until this moment.”

“Y-Yeah, I feel like I should lay low for a bit,” Apollo said, shutting the door again. “She, uh…doesn’t seem to be…handling it well.”

“I’d say not.” Kristoph seemed genuinely pleased with the whole thing. “I look forward to seeing her face in the paper tomorrow. Once I can see, of course. I may get it framed, actually.”

The doors swung open again. Apollo quickly pressed himself against the wall, but it was only the Johnsons. They rushed forward, grabbing Trucy in a hug, shouting her name, looking close to tears. Trucy jumped, but hugged back after a second, if a little awkwardly. They then turned toward Apollo, and then Phoenix, gushing their thanks, shaking their hands hard enough to knock Apollo off his balance.

“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you for saving our little girl, thank you thank you!”

“You’re—wel—come—” Apollo managed to steady himself. “Y-You’re welcome ma’am, could you please stop—”

“And you,” she rounded on Phoenix as Mr. Johnson grabbed Apollo's hand, “Mr. Wright, thank you for—”

“Yeah, you’re welcome!” Phoenix let her dislocate his arm for a moment, before Trucy stepped forward and grabbed her arm.

“It’s okay, they get it,” she said, trying to hold down a giggle.

“See, Trucy?” Mr. Johnson said with a grin. “Defense attorney, now seems like a much more worthwhile profession than some silly magic show—”

“Let’s talk about that later, please,” Trucy interrupted, smile straining a moment. Then she turned toward Phoenix. “…but, um. Really. Thank you, Mr. Wright. For finding me.”

“Any time,” Phoenix said.

“Don’t say ‘any time’,” Apollo protested. “You make it sound like she’s going to make a habit of getting arrested. Which she won’t. Right, Trucy?”

Trucy giggled. “Of course not, Polly,” she said.

Apollo made a face at the nickname, but Trucy turned back toward Phoenix. “I’m…going to work hard to make people smile more,” she said. “Real magic, y’know? I think the world needs more of it.”

He smiled at her. “Don’t forget to save some magic for yourself.”

Suddenly, a small, chip-tune-y song pierced the conversation. Everyone jumped, looking around until Apollo pulled a phone out of his pocket. "Who in the…?" He frowned at the string of numbers a moment, mouthing them to himself. Then his eyes went wide. “Oh shoot." He looked around, seeing everyone's eyes on him. "I-I-I’m gonna take this, sorry, one sec, be right back, take care Trucy!” And he bolted from the room.

Trucy blinked after him. “Uh, bye Apoll…o…” She frowned at the door. “Hmm. Well, I guess I need to head home.”

“If you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to call,” Phoenix told her.

“Sure!” She smiled at him, bouncing a bit. “And as soon as I get myself back on track, you’ll be the first person getting tickets to my show. You and Apollo, alright?”

“Yeah, of course. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Trucy, sweetie, let’s go!” Mrs. Johnson said, walking over. “We need to get you home. Your hair is still a mess. And when's the last time you've had a decent meal? And goodness, your clothes are a mess—”

"Alright, alright, I'm coming." She gave Phoenix one last smile. “Wish me luck, Mr. Wright.”

He couldn’t help but smile back. Trucy always had that effect on people. “Break a leg, Trucy.”

And with a final wave, and a flourish as she spun, she skipped from the room, after the Johnsons and out of sight.

It was numbing. Trucy’s safety, and Ema’s confessions, and Kristoph’s ‘friendship’, and Franziska’s furious screams that had finally given way to silence. He felt like he’d probably used up all of his emotional capacity for the next thousand years. Even as the warmth from Trucy’s familiar smile faded, he felt hollowed out.

What happens now? What happens to Trucy? What happens to Ema? What happens to Franziska? He wanted to shut his eyes.

“Well, that was touching.”

He stiffened. He’d almost forgotten the blind straggler left in the room. Quickly, he turned toward Kristoph, who was watching from the couch. “It feels good to help, doesn’t it,” Kristoph mused.

There was something about his tone that didn’t sit well with Phoenix, but he forced a smile anyway. “It does,” he said. “It’s why I went into law.”

“I can tell.” He leaned back into the couch. “You seem the type. She’s lucky to have such a…friend on her side.”

If it were anyone else, the phrasing wouldn’t feel like such an interrogation. But Phoenix swallowed. “It just seemed like the right thing to do,” he said. “She didn’t seem like the murdering type.”

He chuckled. “Most murderers don’t,” he murmured, brushing at his bangs.

He felt a chill down his spine. Poker face, Phoenix. Poker face.

“What the hell is taking Justice so long?” Kristoph seemed to have moved on, squinting toward the door. “It’s not like he has any friends, I don’t know what he could be doing out there.” He stood up.

“Want me to find him for you?” Phoenix asked, ignoring the jab. “He can’t be too far, I doubt he’d risk being seen by von Karma.”

“I was hoping to speak to him myself,” Kristoph said. “But you’re welcome to lead the way.”

“You sure? I don’t mind just bringing him back here, since you’re blind anyway.”

Kristoph raised an eyebrow. “Hoping to talk to him privately, Wright?”

Phoenix blinked, confused. “…No?”

“Then what’s the problem?” And he smiled.

“R-Right. Uh, let’s…” He shifted uncomfortably, “…let’s get going then.”

The two of them exited together, Kristoph trailing slightly behind him. It was quieter now out in the hallway. It seemed Franziska had either left or tired herself out. Apollo, however, was nowhere in sight.

Phoenix frowned, as Kristoph passed behind him. “There’s a second defendant lobby this way,” he said. “They’re soundproof. If I had a private phone call, I’m sure that’s where I’d go.”

“Yeah, uh, if it’s private, maybe we should leave him alone for a bit?” Phoenix suggested.

Kristoph glanced back at him, hand trailing the wall as he walked toward the other door. "You don't feel concerned?" he asked. "He seemed in such a rush. As his mentor, I like to know what is going on in my subordinate's life."

"I-I mean…" As curious as he was, the idea of Kristoph prying into Apollo's private life seemed concerning. He anxiously tucked his hands into his pockets.

Kristoph raised an eyebrow at him, then grabbed the door handle and began to turn it. Slowly, the door cracked open.

“…no, no, I get that. No worries here.” Apollo’s voice was quiet, but clear as Kristoph cracked the door open. “Ah, wait, no! No, no no, that, uh, no, bad idea, my apartment isn’t… Yeah, I’ll just, uh…I’ll send you an address and…right, of course, that’s fine.”

Yup, that sounded very private. What the hell is Apollo doing?

Kristoph was listening intently, finger tapping the doorknob. He looked curious, more than anything. "Now what could this be about?"

Phoenix felt this nagging feeling he had to end this quickly. "Mr. Gavin, this is a breach of privacy and you know it."

Kristoph glanced at Phoenix, not annoyed exactly, or shocked. He slowly closed the door, turning with his back to the wall. "I suppose you're right," he said with a shrug. "None of my business what the boy does in his spare time, I suppose." He gave Phoenix a smile. "Still, though, it seems rather out of character, doesn't it?"

"What does? Him taking private calls?"

Kristoph laughed, shaking his head. "Among other things." His eyes drifted back toward the door. "Still, I know you care about him as well. What harm would it do?"

He's testing me, Phoenix realized. Seeing what I'm willing to do. He shook his head, trying not to grit his teeth. "What does it matter to you what Apollo is doing?"

"You're right, I suppose it's none of my business."

The world lurched.

Phoenix winced as the Psyche-Locks ground into view. Red. Several of them. Kristoph turned toward the vending machine. "I don't suppose these ones serve coffee, do they," he said, squinting at the buttons.

"It shouldn't be your business…" Phoenix muttered.

"What was that?" The chains receded.

"The bottom one is coffee."

Kristoph bought himself a coffee before Apollo finally emerged from the extra defendant lobby. He froze when he saw the two standing just outside the room. "Oh! Mr. Gavin, Mr. Wright, what are you doing?"

“Ah, Justice, there you are,” Kristoph said, sipping at his drink. “We were starting to worry that maybe von Karma had found you.”

“Sorry, Mr. Gavin, I, uh…I was just…”

"Having an important conversation, I presume?" he said. "You seemed in such a hurry when you left, it made me worried."

"Y-Yeah." Apollo nodded. "Just, uh…" He coughed. "Medical stuff."

Kristoph raised an eyebrow. "Medical," he repeated, and Apollo shrank a little bit.

"Y-Yeah!" he squeaked, a rather strained smile on his face. "You know, uh. Doctor called. Seemed like I should answer."

"Ah, I see." Kristoph smiled down at Apollo, the same coldness in his eyes as always. Calculating his best move. “I didn't realize doctors still were making house calls."

Apollo's smile faded a bit. "House calls?" he repeated, eyes flickering around, toward the door, toward Phoenix. Phoenix shifted his feet, motioning his head toward Kristoph, mouthing 'We heard you.' Apollo's smile faded even more.

"You know, Justice, if you have something you want to…share, you’re more than welcome to," Kristoph said softly.

Apollo opened and closed his mouth. Then he said, "I'm buying Christmas presents."

Kristoph blinked, brows furrowing. "…pardon?"

"I know it's a little early," he said, "but I've been saving up. It's a, uh, complicated gift." He nodded, crossing his arms. "But yeah, so I can't exactly tell you about it."

A long pause. Kristoph looked Apollo over again. Phoenix held his breath. “Well, then, I will cease asking for now, I suppose,” he finally said, grabbing his phone from his pocket. “On the condition that you find me a ride home. Normally I’d suggest a celebration of sorts, but I’d prefer to regain my vision first.”

Apollo let out a breath he’d been holding. “O-Oh, sure, Mr. Gavin, here, I can do that for you.”

Phoenix felt himself relax a bit as well. But Kristoph’s eyes remained cold as he sat back, waiting for Apollo to return his phone. And he watched, and he waited. After a moment, Apollo handed it over. “I’ll wait outside for it,” he said. Then, “Oh wait, uh, Mr. Wright did you need a ride too?”

“No, I’m fine. I have a friend who’s going to drive me.” Untrue. Gumshoe and Kay had another job come in that morning. He should probably text them what happened, actually. He pulled out his phone. “Thanks though,” he said. “Maybe another time—”

Doors opened. Movement behind them. Phoenix looked up, just in time to see a pair of dark, tired eyes glancing back at him. Ema paused, just for a moment, flanked by two bailiffs. The moment hung in the air, like all time had slowed. Then, sighing, she gave him a half-smile and a shrug. “Guess I made my choice.”

“…I guess you did.”

The three defense attorneys watched in silence as the procession passed. And then Ema Skye was out of sight.

“…I’m sure she’ll be fine,” Kristoph said, moving to sit on a nearby couch. “The witness from before, I assume? She’ll probably be able to make a deal with the prosecution. Some sort of reduced sentence for her testimony.”

“…probably,” Phoenix mumbled.

“Well, good work to the both of you,” Kristoph said. “Congratulations on your victory. I will see the both of you tomorrow.”

As they turned, Kristoph gave a cough. “And Wright?”

He swallowed. “Uh, yes, Mr. Gavin?”

“I am serious about wanting us to be friends,” he said, with a small, crooked smile. “And all the rest, as well.”

“…yes, Mr. Gavin.”

With that, Apollo and Phoenix started out the doors. Apollo was quiet, eyes fixed forward. As good as he was at reading tells, Apollo would never make a good poker player.

After a moment, Phoenix cleared his throat, letting his hand drift to the Magatama. “So, uh…good work back there," he said, making his way down the stairwell. "I knew you had it in you—”

“Mr. Wright can I tell you something?”

Phoenix blinked. “Huh?” He looked over. Apollo was cringing again, shoulders squared, looking like he was prepared for Phoenix to hit him or something. “Uh…sure, is something wrong—?”

“No, it’s fine, but, uh, I just,” he leaned in, “can you not mention this to Mr. Gavin? Please?”

“…you weren't buying Christmas presents, were you.”

Apollo flinched slightly. “I, uh, maybe 'borrowed' Mr. Gavin’s phone and got his brother’s phone number last night? And called him?”

Phoenix stopped midstep. “You did what?!”

“He called me back just now," Apollo continued. "And he offered to meet with me, but I don’t have a good place to meet with him and talk privately. A-And even if I did Mr. Gavin knows basically everything about where I hang out, mostly because I don’t exactly hang out anywhere anymore unless Mr. Gavin takes me, and Prosecutor Gavin also doesn’t want Mr. Gavin knowing about this conversation and now I don’t really know what to do and Mr. Gavin is suspicious and I didn't have time to think of a good lie I'm so bad at buying Christmas gifts and—”

“Apollo. Apollo, breathe.”

Apollo took a breath, trying to prevent himself from hyperventilating. “Sorry,” he croaked. “I just…I’m not a good liar?” He swallowed. “And Mr. Gavin always seems to know when I'm lying.”

“O-Okay,” he said. “Okay, that’s…alright. We can work with this.”

“Mostly I just needed to get that off my chest,” Apollo muttered. “It doesn’t feel good to lie to…well, to the only guy that really cares about you.”

“Alright, don't worry, we can—" Phoenix paused, realizing what Apollo had just said. "You think Gavin's the only person who cares about you?"

"Hmm?" Apollo glanced up at him. "Well. I mean, it's just kind of an objective fact at this point. It's not like I have any other friends. Or family. Or…or anyone, really."

“What, do I not make the cut?” Phoenix asked, forcing a laugh.

“I…" Apollo paused, looking startled at the very thought of it. "I don’t know. Do you, Mr. Wright?”

Phoenix snorted. “I mean, friendship is a two-person thing, you know,” he said.

“Right,” Apollo responded, continuing to look genuinely flabbergasted at the idea, eyebrows furrowed. “I mean, I’m…yeah, that’s fine by me, I guess.”

“Glad to hear it then.” Phoenix and Apollo finally stepped out of the building, and Apollo went to lean against the stairs of the courthouse. Phoenix watched him a moment, trying to wrap his head around this whole conversation. Not even the fact that Apollo didn't have anyone else, but he was just so matter-of-fact about it. Like it hadn't even occurred to him the problem with it.

"Anyway," Apollo said, "I need to find somewhere private to talk to Prosecutor Gavin."

"Right." Phoenix mulled it over. “Why wasn’t your apartment an option? You can't exactly get move private than that.”

“Well yeah, but I’m not just inviting some stranger into my apartment. That’s stupid,” Apollo said. “For all I know, he could be some kind of serial killer." Phoenix almost snorted at the irony, and almost missed the next sentence. "Besides, Mr. Gavin has keys to my apartment anyway.”

And there went his heart. “…what?!?! Why?!?!”

Apollo froze like a deer in headlights, body going rigid. “O-Oh. Well, uh…” He coughed, quickly looking away. “Uh, so…I mean…Mr. Gavin helped sign the lease for the apartment because I couldn’t afford it and didn’t have any credit score, so he, uh…”

“Has keys to your apartment?!”

“I guess technically he owns the apartment?" Apollo said, prodding at his forehead as he thought about it. "And he's subletting it to me? I dunno, it was very complicated, and Mr. Gavin has been helping me out financially since college, so—"

"Are you telling me Kristoph Gavin owns your actual apartment?!"

"I feel like you’re making a bigger deal about this than you need to,” Apollo said with a shrug, still not making eye contact with him. “It’s just Mr. Gavin.”

Why would I be afraid of Mr. Gavin?

“I feel like I am reacting in a perfectly reasonable way,” Phoenix snapped, feeling the panic rising very quickly. “You’re just alright with Kristoph just having the keys to your apartment?!”

“I-I feel like we’re getting off topic,” Apollo interrupted, inspecting a cloud above them.

“Apollo," Phoenix snapped, and Apollo shrunk away.

"You know what, never mind, I'm fine, I'll talk to Prosecutor Gavin on my own," he said quickly, looking ready to bolt. "I-I'll see you later, Mr. Wright—"

"Wait."  Apollo flinched, pausing. Phoenix wanted to argue with him, god did he want to argue with him. But maybe this wasn't the right moment. After all, it seemed Phoenix had greatly underestimated how many cogs were in motion here. And Apollo seemed determined not to talk about it. Putting a pin in this conversation. “Okay. Fine. I'm sorry, you're right, moving on. You need to talk to Prosecutor Gavin, right?”

Apollo let out a breath. "Yeah," he said, relaxing just a touch. “I just need a good place to meet up with Prosecutor Gavin.”

"Makes sense," Phoenix said, willing his heart to slow down. "And Gavin is pretty famous, so it needs to be somewhere quiet."

"And I need a place Mr. Gavin doesn’t know about," Apollo said. "So none of the places I've gone. And I think we were still hoping for somewhere public so that we wouldn’t, y’know, turn out to be serial killers or something.”

Public, unpopulated, and Kristoph had never been. What sort of place would match that criteria? He mulled it over. And then, of course, it occurred to him. He snorted. “I…might have a good place.”

Chapter Text

“Aaaaaaaand…done!” Apollo slammed his pen onto his desk. “Okay. Paperwork, finished.”

Phoenix watched as Apollo started quickly cleaning off his desk. “That was fast. You know, this isn’t an hourly job, you still need to stay here until closing.”

“I know,” Apollo said, sprawled over the side of the desk as he tried to reach a fallen paperweight. “But if everything is ready to go when that happens, I can leave right on time.”

He’d been anxious all morning, almost skipping lunch until Phoenix had dropped an apple onto his desk. The manic energy had done him well to blast through all the post-trial paperwork to sort through. However, it was also driving Phoenix a bit insane.

In particular, Apollo could not seem to settle on where to put his bracelet. Just in the past hour, it’d gone from pocket, to desk, to drawer, to wrist, back to desk. Once, he’d even pulled a rather familiar-looking nail polish bottle from his drawer, setting the bracelet on it as if it were wearing the gold band.

“…hey Apollo, where did you get that?”

“Oh, Mr. Gavin gave it to me. Sometimes on really slow days we just paint our nails. It’s actually kind of fun, want to borrow it?”

“…n-no thank you.”

Currently, Apollo’s bracelet was being used as a paperweight in lieu of the one currently resting on the floor. Apollo himself finally grabbed the real paperweight, grinning triumphantly.

“Well, you’re probably going to have to wait for me to finish, too,” Phoenix said, stapling some files together. “Since I’m the one who knows where you’re going.”

Apollo blinked, seeming to have only just realized that. “Oh.” Considering that a moment, he sat back in his seat. “Well, uh, could you hurry up then, Mr. Wright?”

Phoenix snorted, shaking his head. “I dunno, my hand’s been cramping up pretty badly all day,” he said, stretching his arms. “I’m worried I might not finish until late.”

He didn’t look amused. “Mr. Wright, please don’t make fun of me. I have places to be.”

“And what places would that be, Justice?”

Apollo jumped, grabbing at his paperwork and pretending to write on it. “Mr. Gavin hello didn’t see you there.”

Kristoph stood in the doorway to his own office, eyebrow raised, newspaper dangling from his hand. Apollo’s nerves seemed particularly frayed whenever Kristoph entered the room, unable to fully make eye contact with his boss. “So I’ve noticed,” he said. “And what are you so nervous about today?”

“Nothing,” he said. “Just, uh. You know…”

“Buying more Christmas presents?” There was something behind that gleam in Kristoph’s eye as he smiled at them, but Apollo nodded anyway.

“Yeah, that’s right.”

“…I see.” Kristoph crossed his arms. “Well, far be it from me to stop you when you’re being so…generous.”

Phoenix looked between the two of them, biting his lip. Every fiber of his being told him to run, but he stayed in place, waiting for something to happen.

“Well, if you’re so desperate to get away from me, I can let you go a few minutes early,” Kristoph said.

Apollo let out a breath with a nervous little laugh. “Of course not, Mr. Gavin, don't be silly. I'm heading out at closing time, like usual.”

Kristoph looked at the two of them for a moment, glancing at Phoenix, glancing at Apollo, eyes lingering on the bracelet resting on the desk. “I’ll leave you to it, then,” he murmured.

///

New To-Do List

• Deal with von Karma (Statute of limitations for DL-6)
• Deal with Kristoph (Priority)
• Pearl? (What can you even do here? You can’t just Get Rid of Morgan)
• Apollo is finding his mom if it kills me, dammit
• See what you can do about everyone else
• (Is there something you can do about Godot’s debt?)

///

“…are you sure this is a coffee shop, Mr. Wright?”

Phoenix snorted, as the two of them stepped through the creaking front door. “Positive,” he told him firmly. “The guy who owns it is a bit weird, but he’s a good…” He frowned. “Maybe not a good guy, necessarily, but he owes me, so we should be fine.”

“I guess,” he muttered. “It’s practically empty in here.”

“Yeah it usually—” he froze, catching sight of the other customer.

Athena glanced up a moment from her mug. She gave a polite smile, then turned back toward the large textbook on the table, idly playing with the sleeve of her yellow coat.

“…is,” he finished.

Her hair was shorter than when he’d last seen her, though still pulled to the side. And Widget hung around her neck, light blue and smiling that blank smile. She remained fixed on her work, raising the mug to her mouth without actually drinking it.

Apollo glanced at him, towards Athena. Then he shrugged, walking over toward the large plastic table. “Well, thanks for the help, Mr. Wright,” he said. “I guess I can…take it from here?”

It took him a moment to remember he was part of that conversation. “Sure thing,” he said, pulling his eyes away from the young woman across the room. “I was probably going to get something to drink, anyway, but I’ll leave you alone.”

Apollo nodded, adjusting the bracelet now on his wrist. “I’m Apollo Justice, and I’m fine…”

Phoenix couldn’t help but smile, as the door to the back opened. Godot stepped out, carrying a cardboard box. He glanced over, seeing Phoenix and Apollo, before sighing. “Why do shadows always cling to dark corners,” he muttered, striding around the counter before dropping the box on Athena’s desk. “There you are. All the psych evals for Dahlia Hawthorn.”

“That’s…kind of terrifying that you have that,” Athena said, standing up and stowing her book into a light blue backpack. “But thanks, this will really help out my research. And thanks for the drink. Just, uh,” she scooped up the box, “just remember I can’t really, um, make house calls or anything, alright?”

“Time and space stop meaning anything when you’ve already died a thousand deaths,” Godot said.

Athena blinked. “I’ll take your word for that, Mr. Armando,” she said with a nod. “Au revoir!”

“Adios.” Godot waved her out, holding the door open for her before turning toward Phoenix and Apollo. “And here I didn’t think you had friends, Wright.”

Phoenix sighed. “Are you not included in that?”

“No clue.” He glanced at Apollo, then did a double take. “Wh…What on earth are you wearing?”

“Huh?” Apollo looked down. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

Godot just stared at Apollo for a moment. “Wright, answer me honestly, is he wearing a onsie with a tie?”

It took a moment to process, before Phoenix realized what the problem was. He laughed. “It’s a red suit,” he replied. “And a white undershirt.”

Godot considered the two of them a moment, looking almost irritated. “We’ll agree to disagree,” he eventually said. “What’ll you have?”

Apollo pouted a bit, watching as Godot took his place behind the counter. “I’ll just take a café au lait or something.”

“Hmm. Sounds about right,” he said. “Muddy the waters to mask the bitterness. You don't seem the type to face it head on.” Apollo made a face, but before he could comment, Godot had turned toward Phoenix. “Wright?”

“Uh, I’ll take that too I guess?” He still wasn’t much of a coffee connoisseur, but he could usually stomach whatever Godot put in front of him. As it was, whatever Apollo ordered sounded a bit more palatable than usual.

Once the cups were filled, Apollo sipped at his drink petulantly, scowling toward the door and tapping his foot. Godot watched him curiously, drinking his own drink. “So what’s with the kid?” He asked Phoenix, loud enough for Apollo to take a deep sigh and gulp about a fourth of his cup.

“I feel like I could ask you the same thing,” Phoenix said, trying not to smile at Apollo’s annoyance. “Why was Ath—Ms. Cykes here earlier?”

“Hmm, you’re right, never give information for free. That’s a rule I live by.” Godot leaned on the counter. “Speaking of giving information, I was paying her back for those workbooks she got me. She’s researching sociopathy for a term paper, and I’ve had enough of that to last two lifetimes.” He held out his cup. “Now, care to share?”

“Yeah, my friend needed a private place to meet. I figure you’d have room for one more secret meeting.”

Godot nodded sagely. “Well, a good cup of coffee can spill, but it can’t spill your secrets.”

Phoenix shook his head, deciding not to dignify that with an answer. Apollo also groaned, though Phoenix suspected for different reasons. “Hey, uh, Mr. Wright, what time is it?”

He glanced at his phone. “4:45.”

“…right.” He took another drink, foot tapping on the floor. “Right…”

“Apollo, you realize you told Prosecutor Gavin 4:40, right?”

“Well, oddly enough, it’s past 4:40,” Apollo snapped. Then, “…sorry.”

“You’re fine.” Phoenix grinned. “He’s a rock star. They tend to run in a different time zone than the rest of us.”

Just as Apollo opened his mouth to reply, the door opened with a loud creak.

“See? Unlocked. As I said five dozen times.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it, Mr. Perfect, you have to be right about everything.”

“Not everything, just a vast majority, ja?” Klavier paused in the doorway, smile fading a moment, only now seeming to realize both how empty and full the building was. “Ach, perhaps I am wrong, though.”

“Great.” Daryan Crescend stepped inside as well, glaring around at the three figures inside. “Congratulations, Gavin, you’ve probably walked us into some sort of crack den.”

“Oh hush.” Klavier looked toward Godot. “Herr Cashier, is this a coffee shop?”

“Depends,” Godot said. “Are you going to ask me for some sort of Frappuccino, or a real drink?”

“Ha!” Klavier grinned. “Sounds like quite the authentisch experience.” He stepped inside fully and glanced around, eyes falling on Apollo. “And I suppose that would make you Herr Justice, then?” Apollo blinked at him for a second or two, and Klavier’s grin grew. “I must say, I’m used to being inspected by the ladies, but this is the first time I’ve felt this way with a man.”

“Huh—what—huh?”

Mr. Wright, what are you talking about, clearly Prosecutor Gavin isn’t flirting.

Really, Mr. Wright, there’s nothing going on with me and Prosecutor Gavin.

C’mon, Mr. Wright, why would Prosecutor Gavin be flirting with me? Don’t be ridiculous.

“That goddamn liar,” Phoenix muttered, as Klavier walked over, grabbed the small folding chair across from Apollo, spun it backwards, and sat down, folding his arms onto the back.

“So, Herr Justice, you’ve called and I have answered.” He leaned in a bit. “How can I help you?”

“Wow, you look just like Mr. Gavin.”

Phoenix couldn’t help but flinch at that. Klavier, too, froze a moment, thought his smile never wavered. Phoenix could see Daryan snickering in the background.

Eventually, Klavier laughed. “Well, I suppose that’s what I get for having the same hairstyle,” he said smoothly. “You said you work for my brother, ja?”

“Oh, uh, yeah, I do,” Apollo said. “B-But, uh, you know, don’t mention this to him if you do see him or anything.”

“Of course,” Klavier said, looking maybe just a hint relieved at the statement. “Discretion is my middle name. I won’t breathe a word of it.”

Phoenix made his way to another table. He probably shouldn’t be listening in, but he had to admit, he’d been curious about how Klavier had been doing. Mr. Rockstar Prosecutor, who’d been fooled into ruining Phoenix’s life. And oddly enough, one of the few prosecutors Phoenix trusted to care enough about doing right.

They didn’t talk much. Apollo told him that Klavier got nervous around him, even if he did his best to keep up his glimorous charm. It wasn't hard to imagine why. Phoenix wasn't sure how he felt about him either.

Sipping his coffee, Phoenix leaned back in his seat. He could hear Apollo taking a deep, calming breath, and risked another look. “Thank you for agreeing to speak with me, Prosecutor Gavin,” Apollo was saying.

“Of course,” Klavier replied. “Your voicemail was so…intriguing, I couldn’t help but be curious.” He leaned in a bit. “And now that I’ve placed a name to the face, I can’t help but feel a bit more intrigued, ja?”

A grunt from nearby. Phoenix glanced over to see Daryan Crescend rolling his eyes. “Here we go,” he muttered, hands in his pockets as he watched from near the wall.

Klavier’s grin faded a bit, glancing over toward the dower figure. “Well, Herr Spoilsport, I told you you didn’t need to come with me.”

“Oh please, a candy ass like you wandering the back alleys in a seedy part of town?” Daryan asked. “I don’t care how much street smarts you think being in a band gets you, you need someone who knows what he’s doing.”

“I don’t think I needed a bodyguard, Daryan,” Klavier said, trying not to laugh. “Though if you do feel like being useful, a drink would be nice.”

“Whatever,” Daryan said, turning toward the counter. “And I’m not your bodyguard. I’m a detective for Christ’s sake.”

Godot choked on his coffee.

Everyone glanced over as Godot coughed, pounding his chest. “Uh, you okay, Godot?” Phoenix called.

Godot held up a finger, smoke rising from his goggles. “F…Fine,” he rasped. “What, uh, what would you like, sir?”

“Two black coffees is fine,” Daryan said with a shrug.

Godot nodded and turned to make the coffee, still coughing and readjusting his smoking goggles with the back of his hand.

“You alright over there?” Phoenix asked curiously.

Godot paused as the coffee machine started up. “Wright, can I talk to you for a second? Privately?”

“Oh. Uh.” He glanced around. Apollo and Klavier had gone back to their discussion, and Daryan leaned against the counter, watching their table closely. None of them were paying him or Godot any mind. “Sure?” He stepped around to the back of the counter. “What’s wrong—?”

Godot’s hand shot out, grabbing Phoenix’s tie and yanking him toward the back room. Phoenix stifled a yelp. “Wh-Whoa, hey—”

“Mr. Trite.” Godot had a crooked, manic grin on his face as he shut the door behind them. “Can I ask you a question?”

Great, he was Trite again. “What?”

“Let's say you bring poachers into the zoo,” he said. "Now, in what world does anyone get out of that situation unscathed? What world do we get out of there without drawing somebody's blood?"

“Wh—Alright, you’re going to need to translate that one,” Phoenix said.

Godot took a deep breath, grin becoming more strained by the second. “Okay. Okay, Trite, plain English.” He grabbed Phoenix’s shoulders. “You understand that my business is essentially a front for the mafia, right?”

He felt the blood drain from his face. “…oh.”

“Let’s give this some thought, Trite. What do you think will happen if Tigre finds out the police are just hanging around my store? Who do you think he’s using his claws on first, hmm? I’ll give you a hint: he’s six-foot-one and drinks a lot of caffeine.”

“W-Well I didn’t think Gavin was just going to bring Daryan along,” he protested, feeling the heat radiating from Godot’s goggles. “Besides, it’s not like Tigre is supposed to show up today, right?”

No answer. Godot just stared at him, stony-faced. Phoenix swallowed. “…right? Godot? Godot is Furio Tigre—?”

“Fix this,” Godot said. “I just got used to the idea of living for a few more years.”

“Alright, alright. I’ll…try to get them out of here.”

Godot let go of him, adjusting his goggling and muttering under his breath. “I swear to god, if you pulled me from the darkness just to get me killed a week later I will personally drag you to hell with me—”

“I just said I’ll handle it,” Phoenix snapped, stepping back into the coffee shop.

Daryan was still waiting at the counter, watching the other two silently. Klavier and Apollo already seemed deep in discussion.

“The issue becomes, of course, whether Lamiroir has any interest in speaking to us,” Klavier explained, inspecting the gold band on Apollo’s wrist. “Getting a message to her isn’t likely an issue, what with Daryan’s international connections, but I can’t exactly say we left her on good terms.”

“Hey, the diva adopted a murderer,” Daryan spoke up, drawing Klavier and Apollo’s eyes. “Not our fault she took it so poorly.”

“…ja, I suppose,” Klavier muttered, face turning dark for just a moment, before he sighed. “Still, I can’t imagine the aftermath of that trial being easy for anyone involved, least of all Lamiroir. And, as I was the prosecutor, I rather doubt she’d be excited to, ah, see me again, as it were.”

Apollo nodded, struggling not to look crestfallen. “I-I see,” he said. “I understand.”

“Ach, that’s not to say I will give up before even beginning, of course,” Klavier said quickly, flashing Apollo a dazzling smile. “After all, it’s hard to resist helping a pretty face in distress, ja?”

Apollo blinked. “…eh?”

Phoenix did his best not to roll his eyes at the two across the way, but he could feel his stomach sinking. This was for Apollo, after all, not for him. If he could do nothing else for Apollo, then reuniting him with family was the very least he could do. It seemed unfair to put a stop to that so soon.

Daryan snapped in Phoenix’s face. “Hey, buddy. Anyone in there? I’m talking to you.”

“Hmm?” Phoenix looked over, to see Daryan’s pronounced scowl. Realizing he’d been talking, Phoenix straightened his back. “O-Oh, sorry, what?”

“You work here, right?” he asked. “Can I please have my coffee now? I can see it.”

“Uh…” Well, he supposed he did just walk out of the back office. “Sure, one second.” He scanned for the coffee pot, running over to pour it before he realized he needed a mug. Grabbing one, he gave a nervous laugh. “S-So, uh, detective, huh?”

Daryan raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, that’s kinda our whole gimmick,” he said. “Detective, prosecutor, bailiff, the whole legal system performing on stage.” He grinned, turning and fixing his hair. “What, don’t tell me you haven’t heard of the Gavinners.”

“N-No, I’ve heard of you,” he said, handing over the mugs. “I just figured, what with the day job and the night job, you’d be way too busy to visit this kind of place.”

Daryan swiped the coffee. “Well, some of us are more busy than others,” he said, handing Phoenix a fifty. “Keep the change.”

“Uh, thanks—?”

“Yeah, honestly, I have plenty of better things to be doing than chasing tail,” he said, taking a swig of his coffee. “'Course, I have REAL THINGS to do, unlike a certain almost-prosecutor I know—”

“I do plenty of real things, Daryan,” Klavier shot over his shoulder with a frown. “Even without cases, working in the office keeps me reasonably busy, in addition to, you know, keeping our band afloat. Besides, for such a busy man, you sure had plenty of time to follow me here.”

“That…” Daryan paused, stalking over and slamming the other mug unceremoniously onto the table. “I just figured someone should keep you out of trouble. Why else would I bother coming with you?”

Apollo jumped. His hand slowly drifted to his wrist, toward the bracelet, as he looked at Daryan. “Wh…Why are you grabbing your arm like that?”

Now that was the Apollo he knew.

Daryan glared at him. “What are you talking about,” he said, arm falling to his side. “My shoulder’s sore, why the hell do you care?”

“It’s just…you started messing with your shoulder when you asked why else you’d come with Prosecutor Gavin.” He crossed his arms on the table, eyes laser focused on Daryan’s arm. “Do you have another reason for coming with him?”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Daryan said. “Why would I want to come to some shitty coffee shop on the other end of town? Gavin’s the one who’s still hung up on that stupid trial.”

“Daryan, that’s enough,” Klavier said, finally beginning to look annoyed. “Am I going to have to ask you to wait in the car?”

Yes, please do. Please. Please do.

“Hey,” Godot said from the counter. “No arguing in my store. You’ll scare away customers.”

“…what customers?!” Daryan snapped. “This place is empty.”

And of course, at that moment, the door opened.

“Huh, youse got yourself a crowd in here, don’cha?”

Phoenix cringed. Mother f—

“Well, I guess the cruel hand of fate has it’s own plans for its favorite toy,” Godot muttered, sending Phoenix a glance as Furio Tigre walked up to the counter. “Might as well face it head on. Care for a drink?”

“Shaddup, ya cyclops, I’m just here for da rent,” he grunted glancing around. His eyes lingered on the group at the table, eyebrow raised. “What youse guys lookin’ at?”

“I dunno, what’re you lookin’ at?” Daryan replied, narrowing his eyes.

Phoenix shifted, moving between them, hoping Tigre wasn’t much of a music fan. “Haha, uh, I feel like we're getting off topic.”

“Relax, they’re where the rent money comes from,” Godot interrupted, drawing Tigre’s eyes away from the detective. “The lifeblood of this little monstrosity I call home. Want to step into the back office for a moment, Boss?”

With one last glare at Phoenix and company, Furio Tigre followed Godot into the back room. Phoenix wondered how long that would last, if he had enough time to get rid of the stragglers. He glanced back over, seeing Daryan and Klavier exchanging looks.

“That man look familiar to you?” Klavier asked him.

“Sort of,” Daryan muttered. “Come on, Gavin, I’m in international affairs. I don’t know local…weirdos.”

“Fair.”

“I-I think he’s just the landlord,” Phoenix interjected quickly, feeling himself starting to sweat. “Nothing to worry about, haha.”

Apollo’s eyes snapped toward him. Phoenix swallowed.

“You know what I think,” Daryan said. “I think he looks kind of like this spiky barista.”

“Ah, I suppose I can see some resemblance,” Klavier agreed.

I don’t look anything like him!

“…wait, Mr. Wright, are you a barista?” Apollo asked, brows furrowing.

He swallowed. “Yeah, I help out a bit,” he said with a shrug. “A-Anyway, uh, I think we’re…closing soon? If we could wrap this up, maybe…”

Daryan rolled his eyes, and Klavier sighed in disappointment. But Apollo watched him, hand drifting back toward his bracelet.  “Mr. Wright?”

Phoenix looked back, praying that Apollo could see the desperation in his eyes. “Yes, Apollo?” he asked.

Apollo hesitated. “…nothing, never mind.”

“Achtung, well, we certainly don’t want to overstay our welcome,” Klavier said, still glancing curiously toward the back room, as Daryan chugged the remainder of his drink.

“Finally,” he grumbled, setting the cup down. “Now can we get out of here?”

“Ja, one moment.” Klavier turned back toward Apollo, giving one of those winning smiles. “I’ll let you know what we find,” he said. “One of us will reach out to Lamiroir, and then we will get you in touch with her.”

“Oh yeah, this is definitely worth our time,” Daryan muttered quietly, rolling his eyes. Phoenix scowled at him.

“It was a pleasure, Herr Justice,” Klavier said, finishing his drink as well. “I’m sure we will talk soon, ja?”

“Ja…I-I mean, yeah, uh, thanks, Prosecutor Gavin,” Apollo said. Then he added, “Uh, can I ask you a weird question, actually?”

“And what might that be?” Klavier asked, leaning in with an almost conspiratorial smile.

“Why aren’t you taking on any cases?”

The smile disappeared. “…pardon?”

“I mean, uh, Daryan made it sounde like you haven’t taken on a case since the one involving Lamiroir,” he said. “And that you didn’t end it on good terms. Was there something going on there?” Then he paused, suddenly looking sheepish. “Ah, but, uh, if that’s too personal of a question you can ignore me, sorry…”

Klavier looked at Apollo curiously. “I see the cogs are always turning in that big forehead of yours, ja?”

“Huh?”

“I…I’ve never been satisfied,” he mused. “With a win, I mean. It’s never felt right, I suppose. I love the law, always have. Finding the truth is where my heart lies. But there’s always something missing. Like I’m chasing something always just out of sight…” He pursed his lips. “Hmm. Those would be good lyrics though…”

“So you won and then gave up?” Apollo asked. “That just seems…I dunno, counterproductive.” He shrugged. “I mean, I haven’t always been satisfied in my trials, but that’s why I work so hard. So the next one will be better.” He paused. “Ah, sorry, I’m just kind of talking…”

Klavier considered him a moment. “Well, I have heard rumblings of a pretty big trial coming up,” he said to himself. And then he smiled a bit. Not the thousand watt one, just a regular smile. “Well. Perhaps I could give it another shot. After all, a star deserves to be in the limelight—”

“Hey Gavin, are you done being dramatic?” Daryan snapped. “Let’s get out of here.”

Klavier gave him another glare, before sighing dramatically. “Well. Maybe I will see you sooner than later, then, Herr Forehead.”

“What did you just call me?!”

“Auf wiedersehen.” And with one more winning smile from Klavier Gavin, the rock stars filed out.

Phoenix let out a breath as the door shut. Well, that was one problem solved.

“Hey, Mr. Wright, is something the matter?”

“Hmm?” He looked up at problem number two, as two brown eyes locked on him from across the way. “W…What do you mean?”

Apollo considered him for a moment, before rubbing at his bracelet. “That…that thing happened again,” he said. “From the trial, where I could just…see really clearly. Only, this time my bracelet was, uh…reacting to people.”

Shoot. “In what way?”

“Uh…well, the guy with the terrifying hair kept rubbing his shoulder like it was sore when he talked about that trial,” he said. “And…earlier, you were rubbing your neck when you talked about that creepy guy who came in here. Both times, the bracelet tightened.” He looked at it. “That probably sounds stupid, doesn’t it…?”

“No, that’s not stupid,” Phoenix assured him.

“Were you lying, then?”

He cringed. Apollo wasn’t meeting his gaze, just staring at his bracelet, and Phoenix couldn’t help the wave of guilt that crashed over him. “It’s, uh…yeah. Sort of,” he admitted.

“Is that something I should be concerned about?”

He looked hesitantly toward the door behind him. “Probably not,” he said. He’d probably have to check on Godot as soon as Apollo left. But considering everything else, this didn't seem like an issue to drag Apollo into.

Looking back, Phoenix realized Apollo didn’t look convinced. “At least Prosecutor Gavin is willing to help you out, right?” he said, hoping to change the subject.

Fortunately, Apollo seemed to take the bait. “I guess,” he said. Then he wrinkled his nose. “It’s really weird to hear all that silly, pseudo-flirty German stuff coming out of a Mr. Gavin lookalike, though. It felt like I was in the twilight zone or something”

“Is that right?” Phoenix laughed.

“Yeah, I definitely prefer my Gavin over this doppelganger,” Apollo decided with a nod.

Phoenix’s face fell a little. “Ah.” Let’s agree to disagree on that, he thought.

Apollo rubbed at his bracelet, tracing the carved surface with his thumb. “At least I understand what Mr. Gavin wants from me,” he murmured. “I just can’t help but wonder what this Gavin is going to want, y’know?”

He frowned at that. “In what way?”

Apollo shrugged. “I mean, if this turns up anything…” His eyes had unfocused staring at the concrete flooring. “No one does good things for free. Not for a nobody like me, anyway.”

Phoenix blinked at him. “Apollo, that’s not—”

There was a buzz, and the both of them jumped. Apollo scrambled for his pocket, drawing out his cell phone. “Oh, shoot, uh—” He moved to answer it, then hesitated a moment, hand hovering over the button.

“Is that Kr—Mr. Gavin?” Phoenix asked.

“Yeah, I—He probably need me to grab dog food or…” He trailed off, swallowed. He looked a bit queasy. “I…need to answer this.”

“Apollo—”

He answered the phone. “Mr. Gavin?” He asked. “Hi! Did you need something?” He listened a moment. “Oh, no, it’s fine, you know me, it’s not like I’m…busy… Yeah? Oh, um, okay. Sure. I can do that, uh…” He glanced anxiously over toward Phoenix for a moment. “N-No, I’m done with my shopping, I’ll…yeah, I’ll be there in a bit…” He hung up, before letting out a sigh. “Guess that’s my cue. Thanks for your help, Mr. Wright.”

“This late after work and he’s still making you do chores?”

Apollo hesitated, not really looking at him. “He usually compensates me,” he said with a shrug. “Besides it’s not like I…ever have anything else to do.”

Phoenix shifted a bit, stomach sinking as Apollo stood up and scooped up the rest of this things. “Hey Apollo?”

“Hmm?” Apollo looked over at him.

Are you okay? he wanted to ask. Is something wrong? What did Kristoph do? “…If you ever need anything, just, uh, let me know. Alright?”

He looked blankly at Phoenix for a moment. “Okay? Um, thanks, Mr. Wright.”

“I’m serious,” Phoenix said, hoping he sounded firm. “If you’re ever in trouble, let me know. I don’t care what it is, I’m happy to help.”

“A-Alright, I get it,” Apollo said, looking almost amused. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” And with that, he was gone.

Chapter Text

Phoenix wanted to believe in the rule of threes. Third try’s the charm, after all.

This did not work when he was trying to psych himself up to open the door to the back of Godot’s Coffee.

“Alright, Phoenix. You can do this. No fear. Just open the door…and……” His hand was on the handle. Third time’s the charm. What was the fifth try then?

He grunted, letting his hand fall. He’d been at this since Apollo had left almost fifteen minutes ago. Come on, what was he so afraid of? Other than Furio Tigre. Who, admittedly, was very frightening.

“Godot’s probably fine,” he said to himself, still staring at the door. “I’m sure I would’ve heard something by now. He’s fine. They’ll probably be done in a second.”

The words hung in the air, heard by no one but himself. Then he sighed, grabbing the door handle. “Third time’s the charm. Sixth time is double that. I can do this. I can—”

The handle turned. He jumped and stumbled backward, around the counter, hoping he looked casual. He risked a glance out of the corner of his eye.

“Whata you lookin’ at?”

“Nothing!” Phoenix turned away, as The Tiger stalked past. “Sorry.”

“You better be,” he grunted, looking annoyed. “Whadda waste o’ time, goddamn…” And he stormed out, slamming the metal doors behind him.

“Well, I guess I was right about sixth times,” Phoenix muttered, turning back toward the door. Nothing stirred. Was Godot alright? Well, no, he knew how Tigre operated, he wasn’t going to murder someone with four different witnesses to place him at the scene.

…buuuuuut he should probably still look.

He grabbed the handle of the door and gently pushed it open. It scraped against the concrete floor. “Hey, Godot? You alright in there?”

There was no response.

Oh god, he did kill him. “Uh, Godot?” Slowly, he edged into the room. Don’t be a dead body, don’t be a dead body…

There was a body, leaning against the metal cabinet. Fortunately, the body was breathing, which ruled out stumbling onto another homicide. Cautiously, Phoenix edged closer. “Godot?”

“What do you want, Trite?” The words had no heat to them. He sounded more tired than anything.

“I just thought I’d see if you were alive.”

He grunted. “In a manner of speaking,” he said. “…could you do me a favor?”

“Yeah?”

“Third drawer. The one with the medicine and the first aid kit.”

“…o-oh, yeah, sure.” He moved past Godot, pulling open the drawer. The first aid kid was on top, having been used only a week and a half ago to patch up Phoenix’s shoulder. He pulled it out. “Can I ask what it’s for?”

“There are many things a person can do if they’re desperate enough,” Godot said, reaching out with a purple, swelling hand for the first aid kit.

“Holy shit, are you okay?”

He paused, glancing down at the hand. “…I assume it looks bad, then?”

“Did he break your hand?”

“It’s possible,” he said, reaching now with the other hand to grab the first aid kit. “I don’t exactly have strong bones. But I’m also prone to bruising from just about anything.” A smirk. “My body is a prison that’s slowly deteriorating. The only forces binding me to this world are caffeine and spite.” The smirk turned to a grimace, slowly wrapping a bandage around the hand. “And the occasional painkillers. Speaking of which, if you could hand me some…”

Phoenix grabbed a bottle, handing it down, and Godot popped open the cap. He downed some pills dry, then leaned back. “How that kid’s date go out there?”

Phoenix snorted. “Fine,” he said. “Don’t think he’d appreciate calling it a date though.”

“Well whatever it was, hopefully it was better than mine.” Godot flexed his fingers a few time, before standing up. “I’m going for a walk.”

“Shouldn’t you get your hand checked out?”

Godot smirked. “Pot or kettle, black isn’t a good color on you, Trite,” he said, lightly hitting Phoenix’s shoulder wound, sending a shock of pain through his arm.

“R-Right.” He rolled his shoulder. He’d almost forgotten about it. It only hurt when he raised his arms over his head.

“It’s not the worst medical crisis I’ve had,” Godot continued, tapping his goggles as he moved past to the next room. “That prize goes to drinking the sweet taste of death. Now where’s my thermos?”

Phoenix followed after, watching as Godot searched through the cabinets one-handed. “You sure you’re alright though?”

Godot paused his rummaging. “…The world is a dark place,” he said. “Full of lies, pain, and cruelty. I’m trying, Wright, I’m trying very hard to find my way in the dark.”

Unsure how to respond, Phoenix watched in silence for a moment. Eventually, he turned, and began rummaging as well.

The two worked quietly for a few minutes. Occasionally, Phoenix considered breaking the silence, but nothing really came to mind. No words of wisdom, not that he ever had those.

“Wright.”

“Hmm?”

Godot sat on his haunches, rubbing his face. “How easy is it to get back into law?”

He blinked. “Excuse me?”

“It’s like riding a bicycle.” He glanced over. “You said that a while ago. Muscle memory. Even when it’s taken from you, it never really goes away.”

“I…I-I did?” He racked his brain, but Godot was already hauling himself to his feet.

“I need something to move me forward,” he said. “A set of wheels would do me good.”

“Is the coffee shop not satisfying you anymore?” Phoenix joked, but Godot just sighed.

“Prisons of your own device find ways to build more walls.” He paused, smirked, picking up the thermos triumphantly. “And as much as I hate to say it, breaking them down will take more than a burst of caffeine.”

Godot refilled his thermos, and walked over to latch the front door. It took a moment of fumbling to get the deadbolt closed with one hand. “Should I lock the back door behind me? Or are you staying here?”

“Do you want company on your walk?”

“Want is a strong word,” he said, taking a swig of coffee. “But the sun is setting. The best time for shadows to walk unobstructed.”

And so the two men walked. They walked through the city. They walked past the Wonder Bar. They walked past Agency. They walked all the way to People Park, all grays and shadows in the dimming light.

It was almost empty as they passed under the archway. The trees had lost their leaves, their gnarled branches stretching into the sky like skeletal hands.

“Is it safe to assume your job isn’t hiring?”

“Whoo boy, I do not think you would enjoy working for Kristoph Gavin.”

Godot looked taken aback. “Gavin, huh? Yeah, I doubt we would get along.”

They were walking down the path where Dr. Meraktis had been shot, maybe a year and a half ago. The upkeep seemed to be lacking what it had in the real world. The grass was getting patchy and dry. A fallen tree had yet to be removed. He guessed that the Kitaki finances were lacking now that they’d moved on.

The world always moves on after loss, even if the scars are left behind.

“You know Gavin?” Phoenix asked.

“He was still a fresh face, back before I was lost to oblivion,” he said.

“What’d you think of him?”

Godot considered it. “Grossberg had offered him a job actually, early on,” he said. “Most defense attorneys are keenly aware of what everyone else is doing. The higher up on the food chain you go, the more interwoven the web of communications gets. Big cases, promising new hires, blacklistings, everyone moves in the same direction. And everyone wanted a piece of the kid. It was sort of like watching a swarm of sharks.”

“I assume he didn’t join Grossberg’s law firm.”

“You assume correctly,” Godot said.

“Where’d he end up going?”

Godot snorted. “That was one thing I noticed about Gavin, very early on. He was not interested in starting at the bottom of the food chain.”

Phoenix frowned. “So he didn’t join a law firm?”

“Started his own, right off the bat,” Godot told him, kicking up some of the loose gravel underneath his feet. “Started a ruthless pace. Quickly established himself as someone to be respected. Or feared.”

“Sounds like him,” Phoenix murmured. He really couldn’t imagine Kristoph doing entry-level work. “He’s not the kind of man who would take orders from others.”

“He never struck me as a man, only a force of nature.”

“Hmm?”

Godot side eyed him. “He didn’t seem the type to bend to the winds. He seemed the type that needed to reshape the world himself.” He took another deep drink. “And god help any who refuse to bow to a true hurricane.”

“…I feel like you should come with a translator,” Phoenix muttered.

“I can’t help being such a deep thinker,” he quipped, smirking. “Just keep your wits about you, Wright. Gavin is not a creature to provoke.”

“You’re telling me to be careful?” Phoenix asked, looking down at Godot’s hand.

Godot followed his gaze. “It’s odd, a month ago I wouldn’t have cared.” He flexed it, wincing a bit. “My body was a means to an end. A tether keeping me from reuniting with the woman I loved. But the moment I start to care about it…”

“Was it because of Daryan Crescend?”

“No, I don’t think Tigre knew who he was,” Godot said. “He tends to get antsy when he needs money. He usually doesn’t collect from me unless he’s really short on cash for some reason or another. After all, I’m just a front for their business dealings.”

Phoenix looked at him for a moment, and Godot met his eyes. “I’m not horribly worried anymore,” Godot told him. “I figure all paths will reunite me with Mia anyway. As long as I’m trying to do right, I won’t regret the road I took to get there.”

“I guess that’s all you can do,” Phoenix murmured, watching the river for a moment. It was slow moving. The water had receded from the shore since the light drizzle of a few days back. In the back of his mind, he couldn’t help but wonder what would happen to him, in the end. If he grew old and died here. Or if something happened to him. Would he be reunited with anyone? Or would he just cease to be?

He supposed he just needed to keep out of trouble, avoid finding out the answer. No more wild trials. No more getting on Kristoph’s bad side. Just keep his head down, and move forward.

He tucked his hands into his pockets. His To-Do list, crumpled at the bottom of his pocket, brushed against his thumb. Kristoph and Apollo and von Karma and every other broken piece that needed fixing flashed through his mind.

As long as I’m trying to do right, I won’t regret the path I took to get there…

///

 To-Do List

• Deal with von Karma (Statute of limitations for DL-6)
• Deal with Kristoph (Priority)
• Pearl? (What can you even do here? You can’t just Get Rid of Morgan)
• Apollo is finding his mom if it kills me, dammit
• See what you can do about everyone else
• (Is there something you can do about Godot’s debt?)

///

“Just what is taking him so long?”

Phoenix glanced up at Kristoph. He had paused for a moment at the doorway, jacket over his arm, holding another of those pink boxes. He looked annoyed as he watched the door. “I know he was right behind me a moment ago.”

“Maybe he got distracted,” he suggested.

Kristoph rolled his eyes. “He’s not a dog, Wright, he’s not going to be chasing a stray leaf—”

“Mr. Wright! Mr. Gavin—!” Apollo burst through the door, slamming directly into Kristoph.

Kristoph jumped, rounding on him. “What on earth are you doing?” he snapped, as Apollo regained his balance. A newspaper was clutched in his hand, and Kristoph swiped it. “Just what has gotten you so worked up?” he asked, glancing at the paper. Then he froze. He blinked, once, twice, before snorting. “What?”

“What? What is it?” Phoenix asked, walking over to look at the paper. Then his heart stopped.

Local prosecutor arrested, suspected of murdering own father

And underneath was a photo of Franziska von Karma.

Chapter Text

“Absolutely not.”

“Wh—” Phoenix looked up, head still reeling from what he’d just seen. “What are you talking about, I haven’t even said anything.”

“Absolutely not,” Kristoph repeated. “I can see it in your eyes, we are not taking this case.”

“I…” He looked back down, at the photograph of Franziska von Karma being arrested. He couldn’t see her face too well, she wasn’t looking toward the camera. Still, the image made him nauseous.

Franziska von Karma was many things. Most of them were negative. But never, not once, would he connect Franziska with Murderer. That wasn’t right. That wasn’t her.

“What even happened?” he asked, turning the paper over in his hands, scanning the wall of letters.

“Horrible people have a tendency to destroy each other,” Kristoph said lightly. “It happens all the time. And it certainly isn’t our problem.” He eyed the paper. “The point is, this is really none of our business.”

Phoenix glanced down again. “Prosecutor Gavin is taking the case.”

Kristoph’s knuckles whitened, as he glanced through the text again. “…Is that so?” he said slowly, with the careful diction of someone trying not to grit their teeth. “Well, that’s his prerogative. I for one care very little about the goings on in that…musical man-child’s life.”

Phoenix frowned at the article, scanning it over. Unfortunately, it seemed to be early enough in the investigation that there wasn’t any information about the case released to the public. Just that Manfred was found dead, and Franziska was caught twenty-four hours later. The paper seemed more concerned with Mr. Rockstar-Prosecutor back for another swing at law. Nothing about the woman sitting in detention.

“I want to talk to her.”

“I’ve already established my position on this, Wright,” Kristoph said, angrily fixing his glasses. “I may have made an exception for your last little escapade, but no defense team in the country is going to take this case, and I am not making myself an exception.”

Phoenix gave his most convincing grin. “Doesn’t that make this a challenge—?”

“Don’t try to twist this around, Wright,” he snapped. “Franziska von Karma deserves what’s coming to her and I have no interest in standing in the way of that.”

“But what about—”

“Wright, don’t test me on this—”

“—you just afraid to go up against your little brother—?”

BANG

Kristoph’s fist slammed to the desk. “I would…really…watch what you say to me, Phoenix Wright,” he said quietly, a dangerous spark in his eyes.

Phoenix swallowed, willing his heart to start beating again. “S-Sorry,” he said. “I just mean…”

“I’m with Mr. Gavin on this one.”

Phoenix’s head snapped toward Apollo, who’d been watching quietly as he nibbled on a pastry that Kristoph had brought in. “Ms. von Karma is horrible,” Apollo said. “I mean, even if I believed she was innocent, she’s put plenty of other innocent people on death row. Why should I care what happens to her?”

Phoenix stared at him for a moment. “Wh…I…Do you even hear yourself?” he asked. “How can you just write someone off like that?”

Apollo shrugged. “Ms. von Karma has done enough to ruin my life,” he muttered, glaring at the pastry in his hand. “I say let her rot in jail.”

“Wonderful! It’s settled then.” Kristoph folded his arms. “Now, I believe it’s time to get back to work. If you would, Wright?”

Phoenix stood there, looking between Apollo and Kristoph. Apollo’s gaze stayed fixed on his food. Kristoph’s had a calm smugness to it. They both paused a moment, waiting for a response.

“Right. Lots of work to do today,” Phoenix muttered through his teeth. “Let’s…get started.”

“Excellent.” Kristoph turned and strode into his office. “No time like the present.”

Phoenix looked at the paper. After a moment, he threw it into the trash bin and sat down at his desk. He grabbed up a pen, but is hand was shaking furiously.

Deep breath, Phoenix. Deep. Breath.

He grabbed some papers. They had to get through all the paperwork on Trucy’s trial, as well as the one Kristoph won. Much of it was piled onto his desk. He stared at the first file, blankly, not reading a word of what it said.

Was she a murderer? Had Franziska changed that much? And it was true, she wasn’t a good person in the first place. Even in real life. She hurt people. She was still hurting people here, until yesterday. Innocent people were thrown in prison, or executed. Lives destroyed. She didn’t have someone to stop her this time. All she had was Manfred von Karma.

And now he was dead.

And Franziska was alone.

He shut his eyes, breathing deeply. He knew what it was like to be alone. With no friends left. He’d felt it at the class trial, all those years ago. He’d felt it when he lost his badge. He’d felt it when he woke up here. All alone, without a friend to turn to.

Another steadying breath. He risked a glance toward Apollo, who was lost in his own little world as he worked. He didn’t notice Phoenix. He didn’t notice the turmoil in his eyes. All he cared about was getting the work done. Maybe he’d already forgotten about it. Or maybe he was reveling in it. In Franziska, the tormentor finally brought to justice. Franziska, the monster who despised him, finally getting what she deserved.

Franziska, who put the wrong man in prison for murdering his best friend.

By all rights, Apollo had no reason to help her. By all rights, Franziska didn’t deserve it.

But could Phoenix sit by, not knowing if she was a murderer?

Apollo cracked his neck, scooping a pile of papers into his arms and walking over toward the filing cabinets. Phoenix could see a hint of gold, gleaming from his pocket.

He sighed softly, looking back at his work. No, he knew the answer to that question already. He knew the answer…

///

To-Do List

• Deal with von Karma (But not in the way you thought you would)
• Deal with Kristoph (Priority)
• Pearl? (What can you even do here? You can’t just Get Rid of Morgan)
• Apollo is finding his mom if it kills me, dammit
• See what you can do about everyone else
• (Is there something you can do about Godot’s debt?)

///

“What are you doing for lunch, Apollo?”

“Hmm?” Apollo glanced over, cheek leaning on his palm. “What?”

“Lunch,” Phoenix repeated, rubbing at his neck. “We never officially celebrated your victory or anything. We could go and eat, if you wanted. Just real quick, pick something up for Mr. Gavin on the way back.”

Apollo looked at him for a long moment, straightening his back. He glanced over toward Kristoph’s office. “Uhhh…”

Shit, is he suspicious? Phoenix quickly lowered his arm, hoping to look nonchalant.

Finally, Apollo cleared his throat a little. “Listen, Mr. Wright, uh…” He shifted nervously in his seat, pulling at his tie. “I-I appreciate everything you’ve been doing for me, and you’re a really great guy, uh…” He took a quick breath. “I’m just…I’m not interested in a relationship right now?”

“…What?!”

Apollo flinched, shrinking back a bit, arms shifting on the desk. “I-I’m more than happy to be friends,” he said quickly, holding up his hands. “But I just have a lot going on in my personal life, and—”

“You think that I’m flirting with you?!”

Apollo blinked. “Y…You’re not?” he asked cautiously.

“No!” Phoenix almost shouted. “Why would—Absolutely not! What?! No!”

“Well you don’t have to sound so offended at the idea,” he mumbled, looking this odd combination of relieved and hurt.

“Apollo.” Phoenix leaned forward, folding his hands together. “You are great. You’re a wonderful kid. You are also like a decade younger than me.”

Apollo just looked at him. “What does that matter?”

He inhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Alright. Okay. Just trust me on this, I am not interested in pursuing a relationship with you. I promise.”

Apollo let out a breath. “Well that’s a relief,” he said. “I was worried you’d be upset or something.”

“Why would I be upset at you for that?!”

“I don’t know,” Apollo snapped, looking a bit flustered now. “You’ve just been so helpful, and nice and…and like I said, people don’t do things for free, you know?”

“Wh…” He sat there, open mouthed, trying to even wrap his head around this conversation.

Finally, Apollo coughed. “But, uh, if you’re not flirting, why were you doing your nervous tic earlier?”

“Huh?!” Shoot.

“The neck rubbing,” Apollo said, rubbing his own neck as he said it. “I…you do it a lot. So I’ve kinda picked up on it. You do it when you’re hiding something, I think.”

Damn it. He clenched his jaw, looking toward Kristoph’s office, looking toward Apollo. Finally he grabbed Apollo’s shoulder and turned his spinning chair away from Kristoph’s door. “Apollo. Listen. I…I really need your ability right now.”

Apollo had grabbed the arms of his chair. “For what?” he asked, startled.

He paused a moment, biting his lip. “Listen, I’m not going to ask you to take up the case…”

Finally, realization danced across Apollo’s face. Then a cold anger. “No.”

“I just need to know,” Phoenix said. “I just need to know if she was the one that did it. After that, you’re free to do whatever the hell you want. I just need help—”

“No, Mr. Wright!” Apollo hissed. “Was that your plan? Lure me out of the office, trick me into helping you out with this?”

“No!” he said. “I just…wanted to talk about it privately.”

“Without Mr. Gavin, I assume?”

“Basically,” he admitted. “I know what his answer would be.”

“And you know mine!” Apollo almost shouted, before cringing and lowering his voice. “I don’t want to help her!”

“You wouldn’t have to!” Phoenix said. “I just need to know if she’s the killer. And then I’ll buy you food or—”

“Fine. Okay, I get it,” Apollo said. “This is the goal. This is what you want from me. So that I’ll do you favors when you need them, right?”

“Wh—That’s not true.”

“Yeah? That right? I am pretty useful, though, aren’t I?” Apollo shot back, seething. “Helping you with that weird magician girl. Hell, I helped get you this job in the first place, didn’t I?”

“Apollo, I…” He wanted to sound firm. He should sound firm. He wasn’t using Apollo. He was helping Apollo. Wasn’t he?

You always know how to motivate people.

Shut up, he told himself. “I’m not trying to use you.”

Apollo glared up at him. Then he fished into his pocket. Slipping the bracelet onto his wrist, he fixed his eyes on Phoenix. “Then say that to my face. If you believe that, I’ll know.”

“I…”

Do you believe that, Phoenix? Are you using Apollo?

He shut his eyes a moment, trying to calm himself. Because he wasn’t using Apollo. He was helping Apollo. He was helping him find his confidence, helping him pull away from Kristoph. So it happened to line up with what Phoenix needed, that didn’t mean Apollo was just a tool.

Just because it happens to help him doesn’t mean you’re not using him, though.

In his mind, he could see the bloody ace, from all that time ago. The one they’d given to Apollo. The one that had won the case. The one that had put the final nail in Kristoph’s coffin.

The one that could’ve easily destroyed Apollo too.

“I’ve used people in the past. I won’t lie about that,” he murmured. He opened his eyes, to see Apollo’s locked on his. “I won’t say my actions are completely innocent. But Apollo.” He steeled himself. “You can say no to this.”

Apollo’s glare disappeared for a moment. “Huh?”

“You can say no. I won’t think any less of you.” He sighed. “Maybe I’m asking too much, and I’m sorry. That's not fair to you. But you’re my friend, regardless of how you answer. If…If you’re only doing what I want you to because you think that’s conditional, then say no.” He shook his head slowly. “I don’t want to use you, Apollo. If I need to do this myself, then I’ll do it myself. I promise.”

Apollo sat there, knuckles white around his bracelet. He stared, silently. His eyes were hard. Jaw clenched. And then he shut his eyes in a silent groan. “Alright. Fine. You’re not lying.”

He let out a shaky breath.

“But,” Apollo scowled at him, “I’m not defending her.”

“That’s fine,” Phoenix said with a laugh. “She probably wouldn’t accept our help anyway.”

“That’s fair,” he said with a nod. A pause, as he stared down at his bracelet. “What makes you so such she didn’t do it?”

He thought for a moment. “It just…Mmm…” He bit his lip. “I won’t say it’s completely out of character, but it’s hard to imagine her being caught so easily, you know?”

“…that’s a fair point, actually,” Apollo said, frowning.

“I don’t like her,” Phoenix continued. “She’s cruel and violent and altogether unpleasant to be around. But this just seems…” He searched for the words. “…I want to believe she has a bit of good left in her somewhere.”

Apollo’s bracelet glinted as he spun it around his wrist. “…you really want to know, Mr. Wright?”

“You don’t have to,” Phoenix said, but Apollo shook his head.

“Yeah, I know. But…I don’t know, if there're no strings attached, there’s no harm in at least knowing the truth.” He stood up, walking over and tapping on Kristoph’s door. Before Phoenix could even react, the door opened, Kristoph’s ear to a phone.

‘What?’ he mouthed.

Apollo pantomimed eating, then pointed to Kristoph. Kristoph rolled his eyes. ‘I’ll text you.’ And he shut the door.

Apollo turned. “Come on, Mr. Wright. Let’s go.”

Chapter Text

“We’re here to meet with Franziska von Karma.”

The security guard stared at the two of them, looking confused. “…you are?”

Phoenix sighed. “Yes, we are.”

“Oh. Uh, we will send her in,” he said cautiously. He turned, and paused in the doorway, as if waiting for one of them to shout 'just kidding', before disappearing down the adjacent hallway.

Apollo settled in the metal chair. Phoenix elected to stand nearby, leaning against the wall rather than pulling up the extra chair on the other side. It always felt a bit claustrophobic in the visitor’s room, despite the clear panel separating the two sides. He shifted his feet as the two waited, glancing at the camera trained on the two of them.

“Think she’ll even talk to us?” Apollo asked, leaning on the table in front of him.

As he asked that, the door opened. Franziska von Karma strode in, flanked by the guard, glaring at the ground as she made her way to the chair opposite Apollo. She sat, and looked up. And in that moment, Phoenix swore he saw every stage of grief cross her face at once.

“…absolutely not.” And she stood back up.

“W-Wait! Ms. von Karma.”

“No,” she said. “I refuse. Guard, take me back to my cell or give me a lethal injection, I will not sit here another moment and be mocked.”

“Ms. von Karma, we’re just here to talk,” Phoenix said.

“Ha! Talk.” She turned toward him, eyes flashing in fury. “You take me for a fool, Mr. No-Name Assistant? You are here to laugh at me. Well, then, go on! Laugh! Laugh away! Laugh at the foolish little prosecutor who got what was coming to her.”

A pang in his chest. “Ms. von Karma, we’re not here to—”

“Why aren’t you laughing?!” she shouted, fists shaking. She lunged at the chair, as if to throw it at the window pane. Apollo ducked away quickly.  As they both realized the chair was bolted to the floor, she stopped, standing there, knuckles white on the metal back.

Phoenix swallowed. “We’re not here to laugh at you, Ms. von Karma,” he said softly.

She stood there in a seething silence, trying to decide who to focus her ire on. Her eyes were bloodshot, and the bags under her eyes stood out like bruises. Her hair was unkempt in places, and the spot at her side where she hung her whip was strikingly bare. It was like seeing a sickly lion at a mismanaged zoo. Declawed, but not defanged.

“What do you want then, fool?” she asked. “Speak. You have thirty seconds to convince me to stay.”

Apollo sent Phoenix a wild look, finally sitting back up. “Mr. Wright, are you sure this is worth it?”

He refused to break eye contact with Franziska. “No idea,” he said. “Ms. von Karma, I want to know if you really killed your father.”

A sneer broke across her face. “Do you take pity on me, Mr. No-Name Assistant?” she asked. “I do not need any. I am perfectly capable of defending myself. I am an attorney, after all.”

“You’re defending yourself?” Apollo asked, and Franziska glanced toward him. “That’s stupid. You’re trained to be a prosecutor, not a defense attorney. That’s like a personal injury lawyer taking on immigration court.”

“Th—” Franziska paused, face falling to confusion for a moment at the straightforwardness of the simile. Then she shook her head. “I am Franziska von Karma. I am perfect in every way. A courtroom is no match for me on either side of the bench.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that you’re not a defense attorney,” Apollo snapped. Then, “Why am I even arguing about this, I don’t care who defends you.”

She narrowed her eyes. “So you are not here to mock me, and you are not here to offer defense,” she said. “Just what are you here for?”

“I already told you,” Phoenix said. “I want to know if you’re a murderer.”

She rolled her eyes. “Foolish fools ask the most foolish of questions.” She turned. “Guard. Return me to my cell.”

“I don’t think you did it.”

Franziska froze. “…what was that?” she asked softly, looking at Phoenix.

“You aren’t the murderer, are you?” he asked.

She turned toward him, eyes searching. “You are a fool,” she spat after a second.

He frowned. “In what way?”

“This is an open and shut case,” she said. “Perfect evidence, perfect motive, a suspect trying to flee the country the day of the crime. I could try this in my sleep.”

Flee the country?

“You’re not answering the question,” Apollo said.

Phoenix looked over at Apollo, who was staring at Franziska while he clutched his bracelet. “What do you mean, Apollo?”

“She’s just dancing around the question,” he said. “Talking about how simple the case is, and how stupid we are. Why won’t you answer the question, Ms. von Karma?”

“What does that matter?” she asked. “It is none of your business, Mr. No-Name—”

“It’s a yes or no question, Ms. von Karma,” Apollo pressed angrily. “You either say one or the other.”

“I have no reason to play along with your foolish game—”

“Ms. von Karma, did you murder your father?”

She glared at them for a long time. But even as she glared, Phoenix could see the fury finally begin to burn itself out. Beneath it, only exhaustion. “It’s odd,” she murmured. “I…thought about it so often.”

“About what?” Phoenix pressed.

“Killing him.”

The words hung in the air for a moment. Finally, Franziska sat back down. “I’d sit and plot out every step of it. Every cog, every piece. I’d seen every trick in the book. I knew how the detectives worked. I knew how to counter them.” She’d gripped her own arm as she spoke, eyes losing their focus. “I could tamper with the dosage in his medicine. Make it look like an accidental overdose. I could find a way to shut off his pacemaker in his sleep. Or maybe I could knock his goddamn wheelchair down the stairs. An accident. Simple. Quick. He’d snap his neck, and I’d be rid of him.”

“M-Ms. von Karma…”

“He was dying,” she said. “Actively. Quicker than they’d expected. His…illness had destroyed so much of him.” A twisted smirk spread across her face. “And on top of that, showing signs of dementia in his old age. Which was worse for him, I wonder? The deteriorating body, or the deteriorating mind?”

“So you wanted to put him out of his misery?” Apollo asked. “Or is this some sort of justification?”

Her grip tightened. “Papa was sick,” she said. “And tired. And angry. And cruel. A narcissist to the core. Everything he did was for himself. And he hated me desperately.” She stretched her hand out, with a twisted smile. “All my life has been one long tightrope,” she explained. “Be perfect, because that’s the only way Papa will ever love you. But you cannot be perfect, because you are not Papa. If you are less than perfect, you are punished. But if you are better than Papa, you will be punished. Never make a mistake, but never threaten Papa’s perfection. Be the best in the room, unless you are in a room with him. The unwritten rule of the von Karma household.”

Apollo stared at her, stone faced. Phoenix could see his knuckles turn white on his knees. He himself just listened in silence.

“So what do you think happens when the man becomes an invalid?” she asked. “When he cannot take care of himself? When he can barely feed himself? When his body and his mind start to slip away?” She adjusted her sleeve. Phoenix could see a hint of a burn mark on her arm. It looked very similar to one he’d seen before, on Maya’s arm many years ago in the Criminal Affairs Department Records Room. “Never be the smartest in the room if you are with Papa. Even when he’s falling apart at the seams.”

“Aw jeez,” Phoenix muttered, but Apollo just continued to stare. There was something about his gaze. His face was stone, but his eyes were full of pain. Fear. Anger.

“Ms. von Karma,” Apollo asked, “what happened, exactly?”

She laughed a cold, humorless laugh. “I believe that would be you, Mr. Apollo Justice.”

He sat up a bit at that. “What do you—You know my name?”

“You won,” she said, as if he hadn’t said anything. “You. A worthless, no-name fool of a defense attorney won against Franziska von Karma, the genius prodigy.”

Phoenix swallowed. “I guess Manfred didn’t take that well?”

She barked a laugh. "A foolish question," she said. Then, leaning her head back, she added, “I came here for him, you know. For Papa. I came here to this godforsaken country because he was ill. Because he was dying. I came to the place that destroyed everything it touches. Papa. Miles Edgeworth.” A swallow. “…me.”

“Ms. von Karma…”

“I hated him.” Her voice was soft. “Both of them. All of them. For asking for perfection when my perfection made no difference. For abandoning me. For dragging me here to die.” She shut her eyes. “I hated my Papa,” she repeated. “…Perhaps almost as much as I loved him.”

“…you didn’t do it, did you?” Apollo's voice was almost a whisper.

A sigh. She looked so tired. “I told him he was better off dead,” she murmured with a shrug. “I told him I was going back to Germany, and he should be left to rot. And then I left. Finally free of him. Finally going home.” A mocking smirk. “I suppose that was the last thing I said to him.”

“……damn it.”

Both Phoenix and Franziska frowned at that. Apollo had put his hands in his hair, brows furrowed. “Uh, Apollo?” Phoenix tried.

“Damn it, damn it, god damn it, I shouldn’t have let you talk me into this!” he hissed at Phoenix, standing up. “Damn it!”

“…Apollo?”

“Because now I feel bad,” he shouted, kicking at the chair. “But I don’t!” Kick. “Want!” Kick. “This stupid!” Kick. “Case!”

Phoenix laughed. “That’s what you’re angry about?!” he asked. “Feeling bad?”

“Yeah! I don’t want to feel bad!” he retorted. “That’s—That’s like the worst feeling out there!”

“Eloquent.”

“Shut up.”

“W-What are you talking about, you foolish excuse for an attorney?” Franziska asked, looking more taken aback than anything else.

“See, because now I know you didn’t do it!” he said. “And you’re going to get yourself executed because you’ve pissed off every defense attorney in the state! UGH! That’s STUPID!”

“I do not need your foolish pity,” Franziska said. “I am—”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re Franziska von Karma and you are ‘perfect’,” Apollo shot back, plopping down in his seat. “And you don’t want my help, and Mr. Gavin doesn’t want you to be helped, and why does any of this matter?”

“Why would you have any interest in helping me?” Franziska looked frustrated. “You—You destroyed my life—”

“And you sent 50% of my living friends to jail, we’ll call it even,” he snapped. Then, “Uh, well, 50% at the time. No offense, Mr. Wright.”

“None taken.”

“This is ridiculous. Go spew your foolish nonsense to someone else,” Franziska interrupted, but Apollo glared at her.

“Ms. von Karma. Answer me honestly,” he said, grabbing his bracelet and staring her in the eyes. “Do you need help?”

“Of course I do not,” she snarled. “And I certainly do not need some no-name—”

“You’re lying.”

She paused. Apollo was looking at her hip. “You keep reaching for your whip even though it’s not there,” he said. “Do you do that when your nervous?”

Franziska growled.

Phoenix looked at Apollo, feeling a laugh bubble in his chest. This was the most confident Apollo had looked since Phoenix had found him here, and it was while arguing with Franziska von Karma.

“You’re a fool,” she growled. “Both of you. You owe me nothing, and I do not wish to owe you anything. I have never asked for help before, and will not ask for it now.”

“You don’t need to ask,” he said. “I’m just offering.”

Phoenix sat up in surprise. “Apollo, you don’t have to—”

Apollo glared. Phoenix's mouth clamped shut.

Franziska looked at Apollo for a long moment, eyes cold. “…Why did you help me when the bomb went off?”

Apollo’s glare finally disappeared. “Huh?”

“Huh?!” Phoenix repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“The bomb,” she repeated simply. “In the courthouse. It was several months ago. You were hospitalized for it, I believe.”

“W-What are you talking about?” Apollo asked.

She inspected his face a moment. “And here I just figured you had realized your mistake,” she said. “But no, you were so thoroughly concussed that you don’t even remember it.” She folded her arms. “The incident with the astronauts," she said. “A bomb was set off. Everyone fled the courtroom. I fell, and the foolish little man who'd been fighting off my inevitable win shoved me to safety." A smirk. "Ensuring my win, and ensuring his loss."

“I…did push someone,” Apollo mumbled, finger pressing to his forehead as he wracked his brain. “I remember that part. That was you…?!”

“You do not need to save me, little no-name attorney,” she said. “After all, we’ve already seen mercy will not make me change my ways. I will continue to strive for perfection, and I will crush you under my heel the moment I get the chance. You will simply be the frog that let the scorpion ride upon its back.” Another smirk. “Far more beneficial to you if you leave me here, wouldn't you agree?”

Apollo was staring at her, eyes hard. Phoenix leaned over. “Apollo, I told you that you don’t need to do this,” he whispered to him. “I have backup plans. And I know she’s hurt you personally…”

Apollo glanced at him, then back to Franziska. “Never be the best in the room if you’re in a room with him…” he murmured, so soft, Phoenix almost missed it.

“…Apollo?”

“Ms. von Karma, do you need help?” he asked again.

She met his gaze. “…I do not.”

He sighed, rubbing his bracelet. Then, “…I’m going to figure something out. Maybe I can talk to Mr. Gavin or something…”

“Then you remain a fool.” She stood up, startling both of them. “I will return to my cell,” she said. “I doubt I can stop whatever help you will force upon me. But know that I will be leading my defense. You are all my subordinates and nothing more.”

“Sounds great,” Apollo muttered, rolling his eyes.

“You have my permission to investigate in my stead,” she said. “You have access to the crime scene, autopsy report, whatever else your foolish little hearts desire. And then you shall either report back to me or leave my sight forever. Am I clear?”

“Crystal,” Phoenix said.

And, as exhausted as Franziska von Karma looked at that moment, she swept from the room, chin held high.

Chapter Text

On the way back, they stopped at a bagel place to buy some food. They ate quickly as they walked in the cold, gray afternoon. Phoenix could see steam rising off the small sandwich he was eating as he scarfed it down. At least it’d seem like they’d gone out to lunch this way.

As they walked, Phoenix could see Apollo’s shoulders slowly tensing. His eyes remained focused on the sidewalk in front of them. “‘Maybe I can talk to Mr. Gavin’,” he muttered in almost a mocking tone. “Man, why did I say that…?”

“You alright, Apollo?”

“I don’t know what I’m going to do here,” he said, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Mr. Gavin really didn't want us to be doing this. And I can’t just go in and help Ms. von Karma without telling him. Mr. Gavin would kill me, and we both know it.”

Phoenix felt his eye twitch at the choice of wording, but refrained from saying anything.

Apollo sighed, finishing the last of his cinnamon bagel and tossing the paper. “I guess I’ll just try talking to Mr. Gavin," he said, swallowing. "Sometimes he listens to me.” He looked doubtful.

“Are you sure you want to take this case?” Phoenix asked. “She’s made it pretty clear she doesn’t think it’s worth your time anyway.”

Apollo paused. “…I know that,” he said. “I guess I just…” He bit his lip, a distant look on his face. “She's just…lost. And I guess I just can’t let her die for that, you know? Even if she is a horrible person.”

Phoenix smiled a bit at that. “Well, we’ll figure it out. I’ll be behind you all the way,” he said, clapping Apollo on the shoulder.

Apollo shifted away from the touch, but nodded. “Thanks, Mr. Wright,” he said, giving him a weak smile. Then, “Oh, but…we should probably stop by and get the autopsy report and stuff from the police…”

“Ah, right,” he said. "Should we do that before we head back?"

Apollo hesitated a moment, there on the street. His eyes trailed down to the bag of food in his hand. The meal request from Kristoph. “How about you go get all the information,” he said. “Mr. Gavin would probably want me to get back to work since we’ve already been…out so long.”

“You sure about that?” he asked. “I don’t mind just running to the criminal affairs department later.”

“No, it’s fine. I’m fine.” A swallow. “I’m fine…” He took a steadying breath. "Mr. Gavin listens to me sometimes, y'know? You just need to put him in the right mood for it. And no offense, Mr. Wright, but you're not really good at that."

"Mr. Gavin has good moods?" Phoenix asked.

"Y-Yeah, sometimes," Apollo said, sounding a bit defensive. "You just have to know how to get on his good side."

"He has a good side?"

Apollo rolled his eyes at that one. "Mr. Gavin is not that bad," he replied. "Just as long as you don't go out of your way to make him mad. You just have to…"

"Make him feel like the smartest in the room?"

Apollo froze, just for a second, eyes snapping to Phoenix's face. But just as quickly, he shook it off. "…That's not the same thing," he mumbled, looking back at his feet. "I just…He's Mr. Gavin. He's right like ninety percent of the time anyway. I just need to convince him to listen for once." Then he gave Phoenix a small smile. “I mean, the worst that can happen is him saying no, right?”

The question hung in the air for a long moment. Phoenix swallowed. “…h-hey Apollo?”

“Yeah?” Apollo frowned.

There was a split second that he considered giving Apollo his beanie. Making the excuse that Apollo’s ears looked cold, and slipping a hidden camera onto the boy’s head. Just to make sure. Just to have a backup. Apollo wouldn’t have to know. It'd be insurance. Phoenix even reached into his jacket pocket to pull the thing out. But he paused, feeling the plastic button on his thumb.

We’re not quite as different as you think.

Feeling a bubble of shame, he pulled his hand back. “Just, um, call me if you need me, alright?” he said instead. “I should only be a few minutes behind you.”

“Mr. Wright, the more you say stuff like that, the more anxious it makes me,” Apollo protested. “It’s fine. I’ll see you at the office.”

“Alright, see you,” Phoenix said, breaking away toward the Criminal Affairs building. As he turned the corner he could hear a voice shouting behind him.

“I’m Apollo Justice, and I’m fine!!!”

He chuckled to himself, and kept walking.

///

To-Do List

• Deal with von Karma (But not in the way you thought you would)
• Deal with Kristoph (Priority)
• Pearl? (What can you even do here? You can’t just Get Rid of Morgan)
• Apollo is finding his mom if it kills me, dammit
• See what you can do about everyone else
• (Is there something you can do about Godot’s debt?)

///

“Here you are,” said the young detective, handing over the relevant information that Franziska had requested for the defense.

Fortunately, he hadn’t found much resistance, or much more than usual, when making the request. He gathered his copy of the autopsy report, and some of the diagrams of the crime scene, tucking them away safely into his jacket. “Thank you, ma’am,” he said.

“Of course,” the girl said. “Mr. Gavin said I was welcome to at least give the autopsy report to the defense. Unless the defense looked like him.” She put her hands on her hips. “Just don’t expect anything else from us until the trial, got it?”

He rolled his eyes. “Sure, thank you,” he said. At least Klavier was a nice guy. He liked to win, but he liked to win fair and square. For the most part.

No whips, of course, so that was already a step up.

As he turned and started off, another voice spoke up. “Well, out of all the faces I expected to come collecting, yours wasn’t even on the list, Herr Barista.”

Phoenix cringed, glancing over. “Prosecutor Gavin,” he said. Speak of the devil…

The rock star was standing off to the side with an armful of papers, looking curiously at him. “Am I safe to assume you are here at the behest of your two-pronged companion?” he asked with a grin. “Or are you moonlighting as a defense attorney?”

“Can’t a guy have two jobs?” he asked. “I’m a legal assistant during the day.”

“For…Kristoph Gavin?” Klavier asked the question lightly, brushing at his bangs, but Phoenix could almost feel the odd, conflicting emotions behind the words. Fear. Anxiety. Just a touch of hope.

“Usually just for Apollo,” he said.

“Ach," His shoulders fell slightly, both in relief and disappointment. "Well, tell Herr Justice I look forward to seeing him again.” A 100-watt grin. “In court, of course, ja?”

“I’m sure he’ll be excited to see you too,” Phoenix said, trying not to look amused.

“Most people are.” And with that, he turned. “Good luck, Herr Barista.”

Phoenix shook his head, finally heading out. As he walked, he flipped through the report. Electric shock stopped his pacemaker. Taser had both his and Franziska’s fingerprints. Unidentified object in right shoulder, believed to be a bullet. Appeared to be signs of a struggle.

Not the worst case he’d seen, but Franziska was not doing herself any favors.

Rubbing at his head, he flipped to an x-ray of von Karma’s body, where the bullet was circled in red marker. He wondered what their policy was for comparing ballistics to cold cases.

Then, it occurred to him: maybe it was time to cross another thing off his list. Unsure if he should feel good about that, he tucked the report away and pulled out his phone.

It rang twice. “Hiya, Mr. Wright!”

“Kay,” he said. “Are you with Detective Gumshoe?”

“I am indeedy,” she said, clicking the phone to speakerphone. “Say hi, Gummy!”

“Hmm, yeah, sure,” Gumshoe grunted.

Kay snorted. “Sorry. We’re kind of on a steak out right now, he’s a little distracted,” she told Phoenix.

“T-That’s fine,” he said. “Should I call back later?”

“No, it’s fine. We’re taking turns watching the place and eating steak. What’s up?”

He paused a moment. “I don’t think that’s—”

“I refuse to call it a stakeout if we don’t eat steak,” Kay said firmly. “So, it’s a steak out!”

“That’s…fine.” He shook his head, kicking a loose piece of concrete as he walked. “Did you hear about von Karma?”

“Hmph.” He could almost hear her pout. “Which one?”

“Uh, well, one was murdered, and one was arrested.”

“Yeah, we heard something like that,” Gumshoe said absentmindedly. “Ms. von Karma killed her dad or something.”

“Gummy, do you really think Ms. von Karma would murder her own dad?” Kay snapped.

“I dunno. S’not out of the question.” The sound of him scarfing down some steak filled the receiver. “That your new case, pal?”

“Yeah, I got the autopsy report just now,” he said. “And there was a bullet found in von Karma’s shoulder.”

“Which one?” he asked.

“’Unknown object located in the right shoulder’—”

“No, pal, which von Karma.”

“Uh, the dead one,” Phoenix clarified. “It’s an autopsy report, Detective.”

“Oh, right.” He could almost see Gumshoe mulling that over. “Wait, where did Ms. von Karma find a gun?!”

“N-No, uh, the shooting has nothing to do with the case,” he said. “Actually, it looks to be old. Like over twenty years old.”

“Freaky,” Kay said. “Are you telling me Mr. von Karma was in some kinda shootout twenty years ago? (Ooo, Gummy, is that the guy?)”

“(Nah, our guy is way too short.) So, you need help or something, Mr. Wright?”

“Uh, yeah,” he said, pausing at a crosswalk. The wind bit at his face. “I…have a hunch. A-And I get that it’s kind of a longshot, but hear me out.”

“We’re listening, pal.”

Phoenix took a deep breath. “DL-6. The gun was fired twice, but they only found one bullet.”

The phone went silent. Phoenix paused. “H-Hello? Detective—?”

“What did you say?!” He could hear Gumshoe grabbing at the phone. “You don’t think…”

“There was a bullet hole in the elevator, away from where Gregory Edgeworth was shot,” Phoenix said, starting forward as the crosswalk changed. “Again, a bit of a longshot, but Mr. von Karma was in the building at the time.”

“And if Mr. von Karma is connected to that case…” Kay gasped. “Gummy, you don’t think…”

“You think Mr. von Karma was involved with the other case too?” Gumshoe asked. “Mr. Wright, do you have any of his handwriting?”

“No, but—”

“Ooo, but that’d be bad news for you, huh, pal.”

Phoenix frowned. “Huh? Why’s that?”

“Well, Ms. von Karma and Mr. Edgeworth were practically siblings,” Gumshoe said. “Wouldn’t revenge for Mr. Edgeworth be a pretty convincing motive for your murder case?”

He winced. “…w-we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.” Or Apollo will, at least. “Let’s just get this part done. Does Ms. Starr have any, um, boyfriends in the autopsy department? Or forensics? Someone who could compare the bullet to the DL-6 one?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll see if I can get her to help us out,” he said. “That might be enough to get a warrant for his handwriting.”

“Hopefully,” Phoenix said.

“Hey Gummy, is that guy the guy we’re looking for?”

“Oh shit—” The sound of a car lurching forward, and a yelp. “Kay, I thought I said to put on your damn seatbelt.”

“Sorry!” A few thunks, as Kay picked the phone back up. “We’re gonna need to call you back. We’ll tell you what we find. And, um, good luck on your case!”

He smiled. “Thanks.” We’re going to need it.

Kay hung up, and he let out a sigh. Finally. One more thing to cross off the list.

Phoenix shoved his slowly numbing fingers in his pockets as he made his way back to Gavin Law Offices, feeling the wind picking up. He considered finding a ride, but he figured he was close enough (and poor enough) to warrant the walk. The sky was overcast, but not raining, and hopefully it would stay that way for a while.

By the time he got back to the building, he had flipped through the report several more times. He wondered if they’d have time to inspect the crime scene before court tomorrow, since they’d gotten this case so late. Perfect or not, Franziska needed as much information as she could get.

He walked into the office, and paused. There was Apollo, leaning over the front of his desk. His back was to the door. Kristoph was nowhere in sight. Was that a good or a bad sign?

“Hey, Apollo,” he said, glancing around. “Did everything go alright?”

Apollo’s shoulders tensed. “…Mr. Wright…” There was an unmistakable tremble to his voice.

“…Apollo?”

“Mr. Wright, you are hereby dismissed from your position here at Gavin Law Offices.”

“Wh…” He stood there a moment, smile disappearing. “Huh?!”

“Please gather your belongings and leave the premises immediately,” Apollo continued, his voice wavering. He didn’t so much as look up. “If you do not comply, building security will be called on you.”

Oh no. This was bad. This was wrong. “Apollo, what happened?”

“You’ve been fired, Mr. Wright,” he said. “You no longer work for us. Please refrain with any further contact with the members of Gavin Law Offices and leave the premises immediately.”

Phoenix took a step forward. “Apollo, are you okay?”

“Mr. Wright—” His voice cracked. “Mr. Wright, can’t you just go? You’re fired. Go home.”

He looked around a moment, heart pounding. The door to Kristoph’s office was cracked open ever so slightly. Kristoph was listening, he was sure of it. Suddenly, he felt a surge of fury. “Hey Kristoph, I know you’re there,” he said, before he could stop himself. “If you want to fire me, say it to my face!”

“Wh—Mr. Wright, stop it,” Apollo said, finally looking over his shoulder toward the office.

“Or are you just a coward?” he shouted. “Come out here and confront me yourself! Don’t make Apollo do it. Come out here and fire me yourself, you slimy little—!”

“Mr. Wright, shut up!” Apollo rounded on him. “Haven’t you caused me enough trouble? Go home! Leave us alone! We don’t need you here. I don't need you here!”

“I’m not—” He froze. “…Apollo, what happened to your face?”

A pause. Those deer-in-headlights eyes turned away quickly. Turning so that the faintly forming bruise on his face was gone again. “Mr. Wright, this is the last time I’ll say it,” he said. “You are dismissed.”

“Apollo.”

The world lurched. The world grew dark. The sound of chains twisted, overlapping, constricting, tangling, red overlapping black. “Mr. Wright. Go. Home.”

And in his mind, he could see it. The way Apollo would jump at every loud noise. The way he would flinch at every physical contact. The way Apollo’s first instinct at a raised voice was to make himself small and cover his face. An instinct his Apollo lacked.

Phoenix stood there, rooted to the spot, unable to move, or speak, or think. I messed up. Oh god I messed up. The chains receded. Apollo eyes were rimmed red, unable to meet Phoenix’s gaze. He’d wrapped his arms around himself. He looked so…small.

Slowly, Phoenix moved toward his desk, trying to keep his breath steady. He grabbed a few things off the desk. He hadn’t personalized his workspace, didn’t have much to take. He tucked a few things numbly into his pockets. He should’ve snuck Apollo the camera. He should’ve waited to stop by Criminal Affairs. He should’ve done something earlier. He should've just broken Kristoph's jaw. He should’ve, he should’ve…

He looked up. And there was Kristoph leaning in the doorway, face neutral, but eyes smug. He gave a little wave. “It was nice having you, Wright.”

Phoenix met his gaze, hoping Kristoph could see every ounce of hate in his eyes. “You…”

“Thank you for all the hard work,” he said with a smile, calmly walking over and putting an arm around Apollo’s shoulders. “But next time, don't touch my things.”

Chapter Text

He grunted as he pushed the door open, hearing the rusty metal grind against its own hinges. A few pairs of eyes glanced up at him, but only the goggles remained long enough to make any acknowledgement that he was there.

“Hey Wright,” he said with a nod.

Phoenix nodded a bit, still numb with shock. He took a second to look around. There was some sort of meeting in one corner, pulled around the folding table. On the other side was Godot and Athena.

Athena, it seemed, had brought back the files she had taken, or borrowed Phoenix supposed. She'd been trying to get the files neatly into the box, but leaned back when Godot just grabbed a handful and shoved them in.

“So far I’ve been getting good feedback on the thesis,” she said, folding her hands on the table in front of her. She seemed so much more reigned in than the real Athena ever was. Poised. “I really can’t thank you enough for letting me use these, Mr. Armando.”

“Favors for favors,” he said with a shrug. “That’s a rule I live by.”

“It’s incredibly interesting, though,” she said, looking at the papers as she stacked them up. “It’s hard to try to diagnose a personality disorder after the fact (and maybe kind of unethical) but she really does line up with quite a bit of the research on sociopathy and antisocial personality disorder.”

Godot frowned at the files too. “She certainly was a piece of work, I can tell you that.”

“You’ve met her?” Athena asked, looking up at him as Widget flashed yellow.

Godot gave a painful-looking grin. “Oh yeah. I’ve met her.” He swiped up the papers. “I’m going to put these back in the abyss where they belong. Wright, help me out a second, will you?”

Phoenix nodded again, walking over to get the door. As he passed, he felt Athena’s curious eyes on him. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her mouthing something to herself. ‘Where have I heard…?’

“Thanks,” Godot said, awkwardly balancing the large box on one shoulder as he walked into the back. “You’re here earlier than I expected.”

Phoenix let the door shut behind him. He stood there, trying his best not to simply fall apart. It was like the threads keeping him together were fraying at the ends, losing their grips. For a moment, he forgot how to breathe properly.

Godot paused as he stepped over the sleeping back that Phoenix had been using. Glancing back, he said, “Is it safe to assume something’s the matter, amigo?”

“Godot, I think I messed up.”

Godot looked at him, mouth a hard line. Then, with a sigh, he turned and hoisted Dahlia Hawthorne’s psych evaluations on top of the filing cabinet. “Care to discuss over something black and bitter?”

He nodded numbly, and Godot led the two of them back toward the counter. He began preparing some drinks, carefully selecting some sort of concoction, though Phoenix had yet to tell the difference between any of the Godot blends. After a moment, he said, “So, what sort of mistake have you made?”

He shook his head. “Everything,” he said, laughing weakly.

Godot shook his head. “To err is human. To err everything is divine.”

“…That’s not how that phrase goes.”

“Is that right?” Godot said, finishing one cup and handing it to Phoenix. “I mean, it’d take some sort of miracle to get literally everything wrong.”

Phoenix stared at the coffee. He could see his muted reflection in the inky liquid. “I underestimated him,” he said. “I underestimated everything. I underestimated how much he’d hurt Apollo, and how much control he had.” His reflection wavered as his hand shook. “And now I’ve made his situation worse. And Franziska, I told her we could help her, and now I’ve ruined it for both of them. And I don’t have a job, and Apollo is alone with a sociopath and Franziska…” He shook his head. “Franziska is going to prison, I don’t know what’s going to happen to Apollo, and I don’t know what to do anymore, Godot.”

Godot nodded along silently as he talked. When Phoenix finished, Godot simply tapped their mugs together and took a swig. “That is quite a lot of things to get wrong,” he agreed.

Phoenix rolled his eyes. “Helpful as always.” He finally drank his own.

“Well, Wright, it seems you have a few apocalypses to sort through,” Godot said. “And drowning in an ocean of sorrows won’t get you to the other side.”

Swallowing, Phoenix nodded. “I-I know…”

“We build this raft one piece of driftwood at a time,” he said. “You know any other lawyers willing to help with the girl?”

Phoenix sighed. “Not in particular,” he said. “You?”

Godot considered it for a moment. “Most of the lawyers I worked with are either dead or have long moved on. The only lawyer adjacent person I know is…” He paused. “Actually. Hey, Ms. Cykes,” he called. “You work with lawyers, right—?”

“Oh! Phoenix Wright, that was it!”

Phoenix stiffened, looking over. “Huh?”

“Phoenix Wright! That was the name I was trying to remember,” Athena announced proudly. Then she paused, Widget fading from its flash of green as she composed herself. “Oh, I, uh—" she coughed, folding her hands again and straightening her back. "My apologies, you were saying something, Mr. Armando?”

“Wait, how do you know my name?” Phoenix asked.

Athena frowned. “…your name?”

“Yeah, I’m Phoenix Wright,” he said.

“Oh." She cocked her head, shoulders sagging. "Huh, that is weird…”

“A bit,” Phoenix shot back.

Godot glanced at Phoenix. “You don’t actually know each other?” he asked quietly. “Weren’t you the one who suggested—?”

“O-Oh, yeah, no I just…heard about her from a friend of a friend, y’know?” He flashed a quick grin.

“…you sound anxious, Mr. Wright,” Athena told him, leaning on her crossed arms as she looked him over. "Is something the matter?"

He hoped he wasn’t sweating. “I mean, a stranger just shouted my name, of course I’m nervous,” he shot back with a shrug. “Any idea why you know my name?”

She huffed, remembering the quandary. “Well…see, that’s the thing, I know I’ve heard it recently,” she said. “But I don’t know why! I mean, I certainly haven’t seen you before.”

He frowned, wracking his brain. “You work with lawyers?” he tried. “I do too. Or…I did, until thirty minutes ago.” Shrugging, he sat himself on a stool nearby. “Maybe we were in court at the same time?”

“N-No, I haven’t been in a courtroom in a while,” she said, tapping at her earring as she thought. “All I’ve been doing is finishing my term paper and shadowing Dr. Dula at…” A flash of green. “Oh!” She clapped her hands together, as a rather Athena-looking grin finally crossed her face. “I remember!” Then, a sort of realization crossed her face, Widget fading to a grayish blue. “…Oh. Oh, I remember.”

“What? What do you remember?”

“A-Ah, you know, maybe I shouldn’t be eavesdropping,” she said quickly, trying to compose herself again. “I-I’ll head out and let you and Mr. Armando get back to your conversation.”

“Ath—Ms. Cykes!” Phoenix snapped.

Athena cringed. She’d already gotten halfway out of her seat, but plopped back down, looking defeated. “Alright, uh. So. Mr. Wright." She cleared her throat. "I was shadowing a forensic psychologist who works with defense attorneys. And, uh, one of the defense attorneys we were talking with got a call.”

Phoenix frowned. “And my name was mentioned?”

“Yeah, you, uh…” She tugged at her collar. “You know what blacklisting is, Mr. Wright?”

“…Huh?!”

Godot whistled. “You were blacklisted?” he asked. “What the hell did you do to piss him off that badly?”

“Yeah, you must’ve really upset someone really high up on the food chain,” Athena said. “I believe I heard the words ‘insubordinate’ and ‘compulsive liar’ thrown around in there.”

“Oh.” He stood there, trying to ignore the wave of nausea. “Oh great.”

“Well, that puts a damper on that plan,” Godot murmured, taking a sip of his own coffee. “No defense attorney is going to give you the time of day at this point.”

Phoenix stood there a moment, the coffee mug warming his hands. “He did something to Apollo,” he said. “He did something to Apollo, and he's definitely done something to Apollo before now, and he did something to Manfred von Karma, and I know he's done so much more than that…” He run his hands through his hair. “Damn it!”

“Well, not everyone is going to actually follow through with the blacklist,” Athena said quickly, trying to give him a smile. “I mean…maybe a lot of them, sure, depending on who it is. But the guy can't be that important.”

"Do you know Kristoph Gavin?"

The smile faded. "Oh. Oh yeah, okay, that's a serious problem." She bit her lip. "Well. Kristoph Gavin can't convince everybody that you're an insubordinate compulsive liar. There's gotta be someone out there who'd be willing to hear you out."

He scowled at her. “Right. Like who?”

A loud clack from next to him. Phoenix turned. And there was Godot, leaning on the counter with something shiny in his hand.

“…Godot?”

“Did I tell you they never actually got rid of this?” And he held up a small badge, grinning wolfishly.

Phoenix sat up. “Is that…?”

“…an attorney’s badge?” Athena finished, raising an eyebrow.

“Technically, they never took it from me,” he said. “Comatose for five years, but never actually dead.” He flipped it like a coin, letting it land in his palm. “So. Who am I defending?”

“G-Godot, you don’t have to do that,” Phoenix said.

“And you probably shouldn’t,” Athena added, grimacing a bit. “Just because you never lost it doesn't mean you're prepared for a trial. I mean, technically I studied law, that doesn't mean I'm prepared to just be a lawyer any time someone gets in trouble.”

“Is there a law explicitly saying I can’t?”

Athena hesitated. “I mean, of course not, but—”

“Checkmate.” He loudly set his cup down. “So, Wright, what do you need me to do?”

Phoenix stared at Godot for a long moment. He couldn’t help but remember all those years ago, when Godot had first shown up. When Godot had returned from the depths of hell simply to prove that Phoenix was a coward and a fool. And now, here he was. Offering his help.

“I-I can’t ask you to do this,” Phoenix said.

“Don’t be stubborn about this, Wright,” he said, inspecting the badge, rubbing his thumb over it. “I used to believe a real man simply cleaned up his own messes. But if you’re willing to save me from mine, then to turn you down in your hour of need would be nothing more than an act of cowardice.”

Phoenix stared at Godot’s badge. “I-I…thank you, Godot—”

“Stop crying, Wright, we’re in public.”

Phoenix coughed, quickly wiping at his eyes. “Right. Okay. We can check out the crime scene later.” Swallowing, he took a sip of his coffee. “But you sure you can…do this? I mean, what with your, uh,” he glanced around, “other employer?”

“I’m sure he wouldn’t mind having a defense attorney under his thumb,” he muttered with a shrug. “And besides, I don't need to just tell him I'm doing this on the side. As long as someone's watching the shop, I can do whatever I want.” He took a swig of his drink. "Speaking of which…"

“Yeah, I can watch the shop.”

Godot grinned. “We can trade off," he decided. "So now that that's settled, let’s take a look at part two of this play.”

“Right. Right…” Phoenix felt his shoulders slump. “Part two…”

“The kid from yesterday, right?”

God, had it only been a day? “I don’t know what exactly Kristoph did to him,” Phoenix said. “But Apollo is afraid of him. I don’t think he fully understands how much danger he’s in, but Kristoph…” He could see the red mark on Apollo’s face when he shut his eyes. “Kristoph has control over him. Physically. Emotionally. Financially.” He ran his hands through his hair. “I just…I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to help him. I just…”

“Well, the first thing to remember when trying to assist someone in an abusive relationship is to remain non-judgmental.”

He blinked. When he glanced up at Athena, she looked startled. “Oh! Sorry, I didn’t mean to be listening in, I just…you’re very loud, and also next to me.”

He stared at her a moment. “You’re a crisis counselor.”

“Ah. Yeah.” She tugged at her ponytail a bit. “That’s me. Crisis counselor Athena Cykes, at your service.”

“Quick. What else do I need to do?” he asked, spinning in his seat to face her. “Kristoph is trying to isolate Apollo from other people, I don’t know how to get in contact with him.”

“Err…” Athena shifted, straightening back up, trying to look as professional as possible. “Well, someone in any sort of abusive relationship needs to make the choice to leave on their own,” she said, sounding like she'd just memorized a textbook. “They need voices of support to—”

“He doesn’t have voices of support!” Phoenix said irritably. “He has me, and he has Kristoph. No family, no other friends. No other coworkers. Apollo is alone!”

“…O-Okay, okay, no need to shout.” She swallowed, staring up as she thought. “So they’ve cut you out of their lives. Then, um…” She bit her lip, then reached down into her backpack. Pulling out a pamphlet of some sort, she started flipping through the pages. “It's important in situations of abuse to—no, we’ve already gotten past that point…”

“So what am I supposed to do?”

She frowned to herself. “You said your friend works in a law office?” she said, looking back up.

He raised an eyebrow. “Yes? Why does that matter?”

Athena nodded, flicking her earring again as she let the brochure fall onto the table. “Well. I work in law offices,” she said slowly. “Maybe I could…I dunno, get in there by speaking to Mr. Gavin and sneak your friend some helpful brochures on escaping from abuse. Or fold it into some sort of paper airplane and send it through his window? Or—Or I could give him some numbers to call?”

“That…” Phoenix frowned. “I mean, aside from the fact that Kristoph could just as easily stumble upon one of those things as Apollo, is that, I dunno, ethical?”

Her face fell. “Right. Ethical,” she muttered, cheek falling to her hand. “…I’m not good at this, am I?”

“At what?”

She sighed, breath pushing her bangs up. All facade of professionalism was gone now. “This. All of this…crisis counselor stuff,” she muttered with a shrug. She looked tired as she said it. “I’m not, you know…‘good’ at it.”

“You aren’t?” Phoenix asked.

“You seem effective so far,” Godot said.

She shook her head. “Effective, sure. But you know what real crisis counselors are good at? Not…” She waved her hands, Widget turning a frustrated red. “Not internalizing stuff, you know? Not trying to befriend every teary eye that wanders by. Not taking everyone else’s problems and just…holding onto it.” She smacked the booklet on the table. “I always have to fix things. I always want to fix things. But I can’t just let it go, let it be, let it lie, I want to…to…meddle!”

Phoenix stared at her a moment. “I…guess that isn’t a good way to do things,” he admitted. “I never really thought about it.”

“You never really do until you’re living it,” she muttered. “I know what I’m doing is helping people, and that’s good. I know. But the world comes to me with their problems and I help guide them through it, but I can't go out and fix things, you know? I can't save people.”

“You want to do something more hands on?” Phoenix suggested.

“Yeah," she muttered. "I didn't go into this trying to become a crisis counselor. I wanted…"

Well, this wasn't the conversation he expected to be having, but… "You said earlier you studied law," Phoenix said. "Why'd you stop?"

Godot snorted. “Doing some recruiting, Wright?”

"What? No." Not this time at least…

Athena stared at her hands for a long moment. "It was a stupid dream," she muttered. "Thinking I could help people that way. Thinking anyone would care about my innovations, or even give me the time of day. Thinking he'd even want to speak to me…" Suddenly, she shook her head, brushing back her bangs. "Sorry, I shouldn't be telling you any of this, it's incredibly inappropriate."

"I don't think it was a stupid idea," Phoenix said.

"What wasn't?"

"Psychology and law. I think you're smart, and determined. And more than that, you care about people and things so much. I mean, no matter which direction you go in, I'm sure you'll save all sorts of people."

For a moment, Athena just blinked up at him. “…say, Mr. Wright, have we met before?”

“Uh…" Shoot, was he getting too personal. "No? Why do you ask?”

She looked him over curiously. “I mean…I don’t know, that’s…combining law and psychology has always been a thing I’ve cared about, but I haven't talked about it in a long while. And your voice…Now that I think about it, you sound almost familiar.” Shrugging, she started stowing her stuff back into the backpack. “I don’t know. I’m being silly.”

“Yeah, I don’t think we…” He frowned, trying to think. When would he have spoken to Athena? He’d never run into her here, right? When would…?

“H-Hey, Athena. Trucy and Edgeworth’s phones aren’t working. Call me back when you can.”

Oh.

Oh right.

Suddenly he was sweating. He had talked to her. He'd left that stupid voicemail day one. She would recognize his voice. Shoot, and now I’m anxious, he thought wildly. She’s going to hear that something’s wrong. She’s going to know!

“I shouldn’t be doing anything,” she said, almost trying to steel herself. “I really shouldn’t. I know I shouldn’t. I need to just cut myself off and focus on my studies.”

“A human being can’t stop their own nature,” Godot said, tapping his badge against the mug in his hand. “You either embrace it or hide from it.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Phoenix muttered under his breath. Then to Athena, "The point is, you're a good person. No matter what you do, I'm sure you'll be helping people."

Athena frowned, hand on the strap of her bag. She bit her lip again. “Your friend. He's in danger, right? He needs help?"

Phoenix swallowed. "Y-Yeah," he said softly.

She shut her eyes for a moment. "I can hear it in your voice," she said. "You're scared for him. And you're hurting. I…I've never been good at ignoring voices like that." Finally, she sighed. “If I can do something, I will,” she decided. "Maybe I can get Dr. Dula to let me stop by the Gavin Law Offices."

“That’s more than I can ask,” Phoenix said.

“And maybe more than you should offer,” Godot added.

She pulled the bag onto her shoulders. “We’ll see,” she said. Then she turned, and left.

Chapter Text

“I see you are here alone,” Franziska said, tapping her foot on the tile floor as Phoenix filed into the defendant lobby.

“Good morning to you too.” Phoenix cracked his neck. “How’re you feeling?”

She narrowed her eyes. “A foolish question,” she responded. “Where is the other fool? Or did he realize his mistake.”

“He…” Phoenix hesitated, trying to form the thought. “He couldn’t come. My friend Godot is going to be assisting us though.”

“I’ve never heard of this Godot,” she said.

“Oh. Right, uh, his real name is Diego Armando.”

Her brows furrowed. “That name sounds vaguely familiar. He is another defense attorney?”

“Y…Yes…”

“You do not sound confident, Mr. No-Name Assistant.”

“He’s a good attorney,” Phoenix said more firmly. “He’s going to be here in person tomorrow. We already did a thorough search of the crime scene.”

Not that the two of them had found anything at the scene. There wasn’t much evidence to find. The murder took place in the kitchen. No one saw what happened. There was no evidence anyone else had been there. The only thing of interest had been some samples of von Karma’s handwriting.

“Why?”

“Hmm?” He glanced over, to see Franziska watching him closely. “Why what?”

“Why the change at the last minute?” she asked. “Why isn’t the other one coming?”

Phoenix raised an eyebrow. “Were you hoping he’d be here?”

“I simply think it foolish not to follow through on an agreement,” she said, eyes drifting toward the door. “…was it Kristoph Gavin?”

“…yeah. It was Kristoph Gavin.”

“He is a dangerous man,” she said. “No matter how Papa died in the end, Kristoph Gavin was the first nail in the coffin.”

“How so?” he asked.

“Papa was not a sickly man,” she said. “He never took sick leaves. He never so much as sniffled in the presence of another living human being. And he certainly would not abandon a case for any reason other than total incapacitation.” A smirk. “Papa and Kristoph Gavin were not that different. I’m sure if Papa thought the man a threat, he would deal with him in turn. But he did not. And here we are.”

“You didn’t kill your father,” Phoenix asked. “What do you think happened?”

She crossed her arms. “Were it poison, I would assume it was Kristoph Gavin. But as this was something extremely personal…” She considered it a moment. “I think he took his own life.”

“You think he what?”

“Are you surprised?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “He was dying. He was losing his own mind and body. Soon everything would be gone. And I’m sure that he was afraid to keep living in a hell such as that.”

“Why wouldn’t he leave a note then?” Phoenix asked.

“And admit to his cowardice?” She shook her head. “Do you simply voice any foolish thought that wanders into your head, Mr. No-Name Assistant—?”

“My name is Phoenix Wright,” he said. “And I don’t know if I like the word ‘cowardice’ there…”

“Mr. Phoenix Wright, then,” she conceded. “And whether or not it was cowardice, you need to understand, that is how Papa would view it. So no, he wouldn’t leave behind a note. And I’m sure knowing his death has punished me for my disobedience would only be a benefit in his eyes.”

“Ah.” He rubbed his shoulder. “Well. I guess that’s not the worst case to argue.”

“In what way?” she asked.

“Well, there’s no lies to contradict,” he said. “Usually with these cases, it’s about poking holes in a testimony to prove someone is lying. If we can’t prove one hundred percent certainty that they’re lying, then the benefit of the doubt always seems to fall to the witness.” He gave her a reassuring grin. “As long as there’s no one insisting you’re the murderer, we have a shot?”

“Are you always this obnoxiously positive?” Franziska asked. “In case you were unaware, there will be someone there to insist I am the murderer.”

He laughed. “Well, aside from Prosecutor Gavin, I mean,” he said. Great timing to convince him to go back to law, Apollo.

Franziska snorted. “Mr. Klavier Gavin,” she spat. “A pathetic excuse for a prosecutor. Another of Kristoph Gavin’s stooges, I imagine.”

“No, that’s not true,” Phoenix said, feeling oddly defensive. “Klavier is a good guy. He’s just trying to figure himself out.”

“You don’t believe he’d assist his own brother?”

Phoenix shook his head. “If he knew all the things Kristoph had done? No, he wouldn’t.”

She looked skeptical, but simply shook her head. “I wonder if your trust is simply a foolish naiveté,” she said.

“It hasn’t steered me wrong yet,” he replied. Glancing at the clock on the wall, he straightened his back. “Well, looks like it’s almost show time.”

“If I make it through this,” Franziska said, “I will find a way to destroy Kristoph Gavin.”

Phoenix blinked at her. Then he grinned. “If anyone can, it’d be you, Ms. von Karma.”

///

To-Do List

• Deal with von Karma (But not in the way you thought you would)
• Deal with Kristoph (Priority)
• Pearl? (What can you even do here? You can’t just Get Rid of Morgan)
• Apollo is finding his mom if it kills me, dammit
• See what you can do about everyone else
• (Is there something you can do about Godot’s debt?)

///

The trial dragged on for hours. On the one hand, Phoenix was right. No witnesses meant that the troubles of a he-said she-said trial were absent. But it turned out a trial with none of these presented its own series of complications.

Klavier was ruthless in his demand for decisive evidence. Everyone knew that there was none, of course, but really, without a witness to tip the scale one way or the other, there was nothing to break the stalemate. All either of them had was testimony from the officer who had stopped her flight from the country. (Some weird Interpol agent who just happened to be there. He kept talking about wolves. It was weird.)

Franziska, for her part, was ruthless as well. You wouldn’t realize she was out of her depths just by looking at her. She was calm, calmer than Phoenix was used to, though maybe that was the absence of her whip. She was defenseless, and Phoenix was sure she was afraid, but she spoke with the certainty of someone who had done this a million times, and not for exactly four hours.

They had three days to convince the judge that Franziska von Karma hadn’t murdered her own father. No decisive evidence, no witnesses, just motive, intent, and opportunity. And as predicted, day one ended at about the same place it began.

“No chance you have character witnesses to call in?” Phoenix joked, packing up the evidence.

“Not in particular,” Franziska replied. “I haven’t spoken to the rest of my family in almost…” she did some quick mental math, “…almost two decades by now.” A sardonic smirk spread across her face. “Besides, I’m sure any of them would be happy to testify against me. We’ve never really gotten along.”

“Ah. Maybe not then,” Phoenix muttered. “Well. We have reasonable doubt.”

“A von Karma does not win a case with reasonable doubt,” Franziska snapped.

“Well, reasonable doubt may be the best chance you have, Ms. von Karma,” Phoenix snapped back. “You’re going to have to make do with a less-than-perfect win if you want to make it to the other side of this.”

She glared at him, before striding past and throwing open the door. “Guard, I wish to return to prison.”

“Remember, my friend will be here tomorrow,” Phoenix called after her. “His name is Diego Armando.”

“I care very little,” she called back, as she stepped out. “Goodbye, Mr. Phoenix Wright.”

He frowned, but she had already disappeared. He finished gathering his belongings and followed after.

The courthouse had mostly emptied by now. It’d been more crowded than usual, with legitimate news sources and tabloids alike trying to get a picture of the rockstar prosecutor back in action. Swooning girls had flooded the audience, and every grin and air guitar had created a wild murmuring through the crowd.

“Herr Barista!”

Speak of the devil…

“Prosecutor Gavin,” Phoenix greeted. “What a pleasant surprise.”

“Not much of a surprise, you knew I would be here, ja?” he said with a laugh. “We talked about it only a day ago.”

“No, I meant the fact that you were talking to me,” Phoenix said. “I would’ve figured someone as busy as you would be running home to get more work done.”

“Well, that’s certainly next on my to-do list,” Klavier said. “This has already been quite the fun return to the courtroom.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.”

“Of course!” he said with that 100-watt grin of his. “The stage is my second home, but the court has always been my first.” Then, flipping his hair, he added, “Though I was hoping to maybe see Herr Justice again.”

Phoenix felt his stomach sink. “Oh. Yeah, about that…”

“You do not seem to be working with him on this case,” Klavier said.

“No,” Phoenix admitted. “He’s, uh…your brother wasn’t keen on taking this case. Or letting Apollo take it either.”

“Ah.” Klavier nodded, playing with the end of his hair. “That explains that part.” He glanced toward Phoenix. “…do you know why he blocked my phone number?”

“…He what?”

“I’d hoped to update him on our progress,” he said with a shrug. “But it rings once, and then straight to voicemail. I thought maybe he was ignoring my messages at first, but it seems more, ah, all-encompassing than that.”

Phoenix swallowed. “That certainly doesn’t sound like him.”

“Well, I suppose I wouldn’t know,” Klavier said. “I only just met the man. I just thought maybe I would mention, if you were friends with him.”

“Yeah, I’ll…see if I can reach him.”

“Just let him know we have at least reached Lamiroir’s new manager,” Klavier said. “If he’s still interested, I will do my best to help him get in contact.”

Phoenix nodded, looking at his cell phone. “Yeah. I’ll…I’m sure he still wants to meet her.”

As long as Apollo was in charge of that decision.

“Thank you for letting me know, Prosecutor Gavin,” he added, forcing a smile.

“Of course! I love to be helpful. Outside of court, that is,” he finished with a wink. “Don’t expect any easy treatment from me.”

“I’d be shocked otherwise,” Phoenix said with a weak laugh. Shocked and oh so relieved. “I’ll see you around, Prosecutor Gavin.”

“Until our paths cross again, Herr…” He paused. “Herr Wright? Was that what your friend called you?”

“Yeah, you got it.”

“Until next time, Herr Wright.” And Klavier disappeared out the front doors of the courthouse. Phoenix could hear a scream or two from a fan as the door closed.

Immediately, he began to dial. A familiar number he knew by heart. “Pick up, c’mon Apollo…”

It rang once. Then, as Klavier said, it went straight to a robotic voice. ‘Hello, you’ve reached —Apollo Justice— Please leave your message after the tone.’

He winced at the beep. “H-Hey, Apollo, just wanted to check in. Uh, let me know if you’re okay I guess. Bye.”

He hung up. And he took a deep breath. “Apollo’s probably fine,” he told himself, shoving the phone into his pocket. “I’m sure he’s okay.” Then, “Apollo’s always okay!” Then, “He has to be okay.”

Why would I be afraid of Mr. Gavin?

“He has to be okay,” he repeated firmly. Because otherwise…

Ignoring the anxiety swarming in his stomach, he stepped out of the building. He still had investigating to do.

///

“So I got nothing.”

Godot looked up at him. “That right?”

Phoenix plopped down in a seat, feeling more drained than ever. “I’ve combed over the crime scene a million times. I’ve talked to every policeman willing to talk to me. I’ve gone over Franziska’s testimony so much I could recite it in my sleep.”

“Impressive.”

“It’s really not.” He huffed, looking down at the autopsy report in front of him. “I can’t even understand what I’m reading right now.”

Godot moved from his spot behind the counter. “Well, once the English language ceases to function, it’s time to pass along the baton.”

“I called Apollo,” Phoenix muttered, shoving the papers toward Godot as he leaned over the table. “Several times. Left a voicemail once. I think he blocked my phone number.”

“Hmm.” Godot tapped his fingers on the table as he scanned through the documents. “Well, not much anyone can do there, except maybe hope Ms. Cykes can talk to him.”

“Do you have her phone number?” Phoenix asked.

Godot looked at him, frowning. "Yes, but she seemed pretty insistent it was 'emergency use only'."

"You don't think this counts?"

"Him blocking your phone? Not in particular."

Phoenix huffed. "You like trades right? One of your rules?"

If Godot had visible eyes, Phoenix was sure they’d be rolling. “Give me the young lady’s testimony and I'll call Ms Cykes, how does that sound?”

Phoenix sighed. “Right. Sure." He shut his eyes. "She did fight with her father on the day of the ‘murder’. He tried to Taser her, and she grabbed the Taser out of his hands. She threw the Taser to the floor, told him her intentions to return to Germany, and stormed out. She had no intention of murder, and didn’t know he was dead until she arrived at the gate.”

“She didn’t pack anything?”

He shook his head. “Prosecutor Gavin is arguing for first degree murder, but I think he’s hoping for us to plead to second degree. It’s more plausible at least, what with her unplanned departure.”

“Right.” Godot rubbed at his stubble. “And no evidence of anyone else involved?”

“No,” he said. “Not yet. But with the kind of cases I pick up, I would never rule it out.”

“Never a dull moment for you, hmm?” Godot asked. “Always with your fingers on the pulse. It’s no wonder you keep finding the pulses that stopped.”

“It’s a gift and a curse,” Phoenix said.

Godot nodded. Then he whipped his phone out. "Call Ms. Cykes."

"Oh, you're already—?"

"Ms. Cykes. How are you?" he said, holding a finger in Phoenix's face. "Yes, sorry, I don't know if I'd classify this as an emergency, but Wright wants to know if you've spoken to his friend." He nodded. "Yes, I agree, incredibly unprofessional, but hey, no one ever accused us of that."

Phoenix sighed, leaning into his hand. He watched as Godot chatted with her for a little longer, mostly "hmm, yes, I see", tapping his coffee mug as he listened. Finally, Godot nodded, and said, "Alright. Thank you for the update. Have a nice evening."

As he hung up, Phoenix sat up. "Well?"

"She said if I called her for a non-emergency again she'd probably have to block my number."

Phoenix wilted. "Ah. Sorry."

"It's fine," Godot said. "She was able to stop by Gavin's office. And he does appear to be alive."

He perked back up. "Did she say anything else about him?"

Godot glanced down at the phone. "She said that you were probably right to be worried about the kid, but other than encouraging him to talk to someone in a professional setting, she can't exactly do much."

He swallowed. "Ah. Right. Okay."

Godot shrugged. "Better update than it could've been," he said.

"That's true," he muttered, not feeling particularly comforted.

“Well, any interest in a trade, Wright?”

“Trade?” Phoenix asked.

“For the case we're working on," Godot said. "You keep an eye on the trenches and I see if these ruined eyes find anything interesting at that crime scene that you might've missed.”

Phoenix sighed. “Alright. Is there…anything I need to know about running your shop?”

“You know how to work the machines?”

“No?”

“Then I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

Phoenix scowled, as Godot headed out.

“No one here actually comes for the coffee except for me,” Godot continued, pulling the front door open. “Just press some buttons and lock the door when the sun goes down.”

“You got it.”

“And if anyone asks for me specifically, tell them I died fifteen years ago.” And before Phoenix could respond, Godot shut the door behind him.

///

A total of two people stopped by over the next few hours. As Godot predicted, they seemed uninterested in coffee. The first man eyed Phoenix warily when he entered, holding a package under his arm. Fifteen minutes later, another man arrived, took the package, and they both left. Phoenix made approximately zero eye contact.

He played around with the coffee machine for a bit. He made himself what he’d consider a competent cup of joe, though he was sure Godot would beg to differ. Not bitter enough to reflect the black depths of their souls, or something equally obtuse.

Somewhere deep down, Phoenix couldn’t help but worry he was going to start picking up on Godot’s horrible mannerisms. He sighed, leaning on the counter and glancing up toward the windows. He could almost see the graying sky at this angle. Dusk was starting to set in. He wondered if that was a good time to close up shop.

Buzzing errupted from his pocket. Phoenix reached down, peaking at the name. Does Godot need something? he wondered. Or maybe Gumshoe…

Call from Apollo Justice

A beat. Then Phoenix scrambled. “Hello? Hello, Apollo?”

“Mr. Wright?” came a hoarse voice. “Uh…hi.”

His voice was quiet. Shaky. Almost a whisper. He almost didn’t believe it was Apollo’s voice.

“Apollo,” Phoenix said, feeling relief and terror in equal measures. “What’s wrong?”

“N-Nothing,” Apollo said. “No problem at all. I’m…I’m fi—” His voice cracked. He coughed. Or, was it a cough? “I’m…I-I’m…”

“…Apollo?”

“Mr. Wright, I think Mr. Gavin is going to kill me.”

Chapter Text

The first thing he noticed was the lack of shoes. Apollo stood in the doorway, and his socks should’ve been white. They were dirty, like he’d run through People Park. One sock held a streak of red near the arch of his foot.

He was wearing his work pants. It looked like some of the hemming had come undone, judging from the way the fabric had gotten caught under his feet. His red vest was missing. A few of the buttons on his white shirt hung open in awkward places.

His hair was down, too, almost rendering him unrecognizable. Two familiar pieces hung limply in his face. His eyes were puffy, and red, and bagged, and swollen, and exhausted.

But even with all that, Phoenix could help but let his eyes drift toward the large, purple bruises peaking out from beneath Apollo's collar, right around his throat.

“…Apollo…”

“Hi, Mr. Wright.” Apollo’s knees buckled.

Phoenix quickly ran forward, catching Apollo before he simply collapsed. Apollo made a choking noise, that sounded distinctly like a sob, flinching but not doing much else. “Apollo Jesus Christ what—?”

“Can I sit down?” It was barely a whisper and it left a ringing in Phoenix’s ears.

“O-Of course! Apollo, holy shit—”

Apollo pulled away from him, toward the nearest chair. There was a faint limp to his gait. Like every step hurt. He even eased himself into the chair, slowly, wincing.

And all Phoenix could do was stand there, mind reeling but no thoughts forming. He just stared, and stood.

Apollo finally glanced his way, not quite meeting his eyes. “Mr. Wright please stop staring at me.”

“What happened?” He walked over, almost falling the nearest chair. “Apollo, what happened?”

“…Nothing.”

Phoenix took a deep breath. “Apollo, now is not the time to be stubborn about this.”

Apollo didn’t answer. He stared down at his hands. But he was staring through them, eyes unfocused.

Phoenix sighed, rubbing his hand over his face. “If this is nothing, I’m afraid to find out what a something would be.”

“I’m just…” He shook his head. “I’m just having a bad day.”

Phoenix blinked. “Well no shit, Sherlock.”

Immediately, Apollo barked a laugh. And then that turned into a sob, and he quickly buried his face in his arms.

After a moment, Phoenix stood up. “I’m going to bring you something to drink.” When Apollo didn’t answer, Phoenix strode past and over to the counter.

He felt like caffeine maybe wouldn’t be helpful in this situation, and Godot didn’t have any filtered water right that second, so Phoenix opted to just heat some milk with the little doodad attached to the coffee machine. That was a soothing drink, right? He swished the milk around the mug, before turning and walking back toward the young man sitting across the way.

He’d sat back up, eyes still puffy. He looked so tired. Phoenix set the milk in front of him. “So let’s talk.”

Apollo looked down at the mug. “Do you have anything stronger?”

“Drink this first,” Phoenix said firmly, scooting the milk closer and grabbing a chair. “Now, tell me what happened.”

Apollo considered him with dead eyes. “I, uh…got into an argument.”

Phoenix rolled his eyes. “An argument. Right.” When he didn’t elaborate, Phoenix continued. “With Kristoph?” Apollo flinched a bit. “You said on the phone he was going to kill you.”

“I-I…” He swallowed. “I punched Mr. Gavin in the face.”

“YOU WHAT?!”

Apollo flinched again, and Phoenix clamped his mouth shut. “Sorry, sorry.” Clearing his throat, Phoenix folded his hands together, trying his best ‘non-judgmental father-figure’ impersonation. “So you…you punched Kristoph Gavin in the face.” Apollo nodded miserably. “Why was that?”

“I-I…we were arguing, and I…I shoved him and then…I don't know. A lot of things happened at once,” he mumbled. “He got really angry, and I panicked, and he grabbed me, and he wouldn’t let go, and…” He rubbed at his throat, trying to steady his own breath. “I just sort of reacted. My peripheral vision was going, and I just—I just swung at his face.”

“Right. Okay. Alright.” Phoenix took another breath. This was not the time for his reactions. This was Apollo’s time to talk. “Okay, so he grabbed you, and you hit him.”

“And the look he gave me…” Apollo paused a moment. “I just…I just knew. He was going to kill me this time. So I just turned and I ran, and—”

“This time?”

Apollo stiffened, like he’d said something he shouldn’t have. “Uh…w-well…”

“Jesus, Apollo—”

“I get it,” Apollo shouted, voice cracking. “I get it, I messed up. I’m sorry. What do you want from me?”

“Apollo—”

“I can’t go home, Mr. Wright,” he said suddenly. “I can’t go home, but I can’t just not pay Mr. Gavin’s rent, and I don’t have any income, or friends or money. Mr. Gavin is going to destroy my career, and my life, and—”

“Apollo,” Phoenix interrupted. “Apollo, breathe.”

“I don’t have a home.” He was starting to hyperventilate. “I don’t have a job, I don’t have any money, I need to apologize, I have to apologize otherwise he’s going to destroy me, Mr. Wright, I don’t—”

“Apollo!”

He gasped a bit, grabbing his chest. “Mr. Wright, I don’t know what to do.”

He rubbed his face, trying to keep calm. They both needed someone to be calm right now. “Okay. So the two of you got into a…a fight,” Phoenix repeated.

“It was my fault," Apollo mumbled. "I started it. I shouldn't have done it. I shouldn't have been arguing."

"Apollo, I don't think that's the main issue here.”

“I legally owe him money, you know," he added. "With our leasing agreement and all.”

“…r-right, that is also part of the issue," Phoenix said.

“…I’ve never been good at saying no to him.”

It was so soft, it took Phoenix a moment to work out what Apollo said. He swallowed. “In what way?”

“I-I mean, he could…I think I…I knew, I knew that it was always a bad idea,” Apollo said, shrugging a bit. “All of it. Everything about our relationship. But he always framed it as caring about me, you know? ‘Let me do this for you, Apollo, let me do that, what, you don’t trust me? See what happens when you’re left to your own devices, Apollo? See how the world treats you without me?’” He gave a shaky laugh. “’No one else is going to care about you. No one else will ever love you. Not your family. Not your friends.’”

“That’s not true,” Phoenix said.

“There was no point in ever arguing with him,” Apollo said. His eyes looked so heavy. “It didn’t really make a difference. I just…let him… No one else ever did end up caring about me.”

“That’s not true either,” Phoenix snapped.

“You don’t count.” There was no heat to the statement. Just resignation. “I still haven’t figured out what you’re after.”

“Wh… Then why are you even here?” Phoenix retorted. “Why come to me for help at all?”

Apollo glanced up at him. “…I dunno,” he said. “I guess I just figured whatever price you made me pay would be better than what I’d already been paying.”

“I’m not going to ask you for anything,” Phoenix protested.

“Can’t you just tell me what it is up front?” Apollo asked, staring through him with a blank stare. “Money? Sex? Some lawyer related thing? I don’t care anymore, I just want to know upfront.”

Phoenix sighed, grabbing his hair for a moment. Stay calm, he told himself again. Stay calm. “I don’t want anything,” Phoenix said as firmly as he could, meeting Apollo’s eyes. “You don’t need to believe me yet, but…” Wait, he should be able to tell if I was lying. Phoenix glanced down, and it took at his effort not to groan at the bare wrists sitting on the table.

Apollo followed his line of sight. “…that was what we were arguing about,” he admitted softly.

“About your bracelet?”

“A-Among other things,” Apollo told him, shifting to rub at the bare spot. “About my mother, and about his brother, and I-I…I said that I deserve better, and he started talking about how I’d been going behind his back, and…” He swallowed. “He knew. Not just about seeing Ms. von Karma in prison, but that I’d been talking to his brother after he told me not to. He—He always knows. I don’t know how, but he always knows when I’m doing something I shouldn’t.”

“Shouldn’t?” Phoenix repeated. “He’s not the one that decides that.”

He laughed a bit, a strained, hysterical noise. “That—That psychology weirdo said the same thing,” he said. Phoenix’s stomach sank. “Shows up out of the blue, talking about self-respect and deserving happiness. She even dropped some sort of stupid brochure under my desk.” Another laugh. His eyes were watering a bit. “I didn’t get it, but I just…I wanted to believe I could argue with him. Or I could try. He’s…” A shadow passed over his face. But not fear, or anger. Just emptiness. “He’s going to kill me someday, Mr. Wright. Even if it’s not this time, he’s going to kill me. And I’d probably just let him.”

The statement hung in the silence. Phoenix opened his mouth, but his mouth had gone dry. After a few attempts, he managed, “I’m not letting that happen.” When Apollo didn't react, he continued. “You’re…You’re Apollo Justice, and god damn it, you’re going to be fine.”

He nodded vaguely. “Sure.”

“Apollo, you have to say it.”

Apollo looked up at him, with dead eyes. “I don’t think I do.”

A black Psyche-Lock is like a heavy chain wrapped directly around one's heart. If they are ripped off by force, it could cause permanent damage to a person's soul.

Phoenix froze. Instinctually, he grabbed his Magatama, but even then, he already knew. The locks had already broken.

“…I think you should go to bed,” Phoenix told him hesitantly. “There’s a sleeping bag in the back you can use.”

Under any normal circumstance, he was sure Apollo would question why there was a sleeping bag in the back of a coffee shop. But Apollo just nodded a bit. “Sure. I’ll do that.”

“Do you, uh, need a change of clothes? Or more milk?”

Apollo ignored him, standing up, and dragging himself toward the back room, with the ginger steps of someone who was barely conscious. Phoenix followed after him. “Do you need anything?”

“No,” he said. “Just sleep. I just…I just want to sleep.”

///

To Do

I’m going to break kristoph’s kneecaps

///

Apollo and Trucy looked the same when they slept. He’d never noticed it before, of course. Apollo didn’t sleep in the office much, and when he did, he was usually face down on his own desk, paper stuck to his forehead. But now, he could see the resemblance clear as day. They both curled up on their side, face pressed into the pillow, burrowed into the blanket so only part of their face was visible.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Phoenix muttered down toward the sleeping figure. He’d been pacing both rooms endlessly, trying to piece together his thoughts as he uselessly shifted things around, moving chairs, setting Apollo’s mug back on the counter. He wasn’t worried about waking Apollo. From the few times he had seen Apollo fall asleep, Phoenix knew that only God himself could wake that boy up.

Those black Psyche-Locks were broken. That was for sure. Apollo had been hiding the danger from himself, and now his soul was bleeding and raw. His sole confidant had been bleeding him dry for years.

He should’ve stepped in earlier. He should’ve done something. Anything. Hell, he should’ve just broken Kristoph’s jaw. God, he felt like shit. He felt like so much shit, this was so wrong!

He kicked the cabinet. Then he grunted, doubling over. “Ow…” Oh yeah, that was going to solve his problems. He sighed.

Something bright caught the corner of his eye. He glanced up. Apollo’s phone peaked out from beneath the pillow. He could see the lock screen, but nothing on it.

That was odd. Phoenix squinted at it. Wouldn’t a text still show up on the front screen? Why was Apollo’s phone doing that?

Just then, he felt his own phone go off. He jumped, fumbling into his pocket.

Trite. I begin the long road home. You better have block the damn door by now

Locked the door

In Hell, the only technology will be death machines and voice to text.

He snorted, feeling the corners of his mouth twitch upward for the first time in hours. He shot back a quick text.

Why're you like this?

That'd be the depression, amigo

With that, he tucked the phone away. He'd explain the situation to Godot when he got back. For now, he should probably lock up. It had gone dark over an hour ago. He turned toward the front, slipping out of the back room as quietly as he could.

The door to the front suddenly groaned. Phoenix stiffened. Shit, shit, I should’ve locked up. “Uh, hello,” he called. “Sorry, we’re closed—”

Their eyes met. For a moment he saw confusion. Then shock. Then exasperation.

“Of course it’s you, Wright,” Kristoph said with an irritated laugh. “Of course it’s you.”

Chapter Text

“Kristoph.” Suddenly the anger was gone. Just shock. Fear. Panic. “What the hell…?”

He had a black eye. His glasses were intact this time, but his right eye was swollen almost completely shut. His hair framed his face, loose from its usual perfect curl. And there was something manic in his eyes. Something dangerous.

“I suppose I could ask you the same question,” Kristoph said smoothly, looking around. “Goodness, this is quite the downgrade, isn’t it? Is that a lawn chair?”

“Kristoph, what the hell are you doing here?!” Phoenix demanded, shutting the door behind him.

Kristoph smiled at him. “I’m here to make amends,” he said brightly. “To, ah, apologize, as it were.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Well, your belief is not necessary,” he replied, letting the door grind closed behind him. “You’re not the one I want to speak to. Now, where exactly is my favorite little assistant, hmm?”

Phoenix felt his stomach flip. “He’s not here,” he said.

Kristoph tsked. “Now, no need to lie about it, Wright,” he said, leaning back. “I’m well aware that he’s here. In that room behind you, perhaps?”

Poker face. Poker face. Don’t react. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Phoenix said. “Why do you think he’s here?”

Kristoph laughed. “Why, he texted me, of course.”

Phoenix froze. “He what?” For a moment, he could see that quick burst of light from Apollo’s phone screen.

“He texted me,” Kristoph repeated, folding his arms. “Wanted to apologize for his…mistreatment earlier.” He motioned to his swelling eye. “Of course, I’m such a forgiving person. I thought perhaps we could talk it out. I’d be happy to take him back.”

He texted Kristoph? He texted Kristoph? When did he text Kristoph?! He wracked his brain, trying to think. He never saw Apollo pick up his phone. But he was sleeping with it out. And it had lit up. Had he really contacted Kristoph? Why would he do that?!

“You seem surprised, Wright,” Kristoph said lightly. “You have to know by now that little Apollo shares everything with me.”

“Shut up,” Phoenix shot back. “You’re a goddamn liar.”

For a split second, Kristoph’s face darkened. But then his easy smile was back. “Oh dear, I’d really recommend watching what you say to me, Phoenix Wright.” And calmly, he reached over, and clicked the latch shut on the front door behind him.

///

“Say, Mia?”

“Hmm?” Mia glanced at him, readjusting Maya’s robes for the third time that minute. “Yes? What is it, Phoenix?”

“…Can I ask you a sort of stupid question?”

Mia laughed that gentle laugh of hers. “No such thing,” she said. “Though I guess nothing is impossible with you. What’s wrong?”

“No, just, uh…does it hurt? Y’know, dying?”

Mia’s smile faded. “Hmm?”

“I-I mean, y’know, if that’s too personal of a question,” he said, rubbing his neck, “I was just thinking about it. What with this murder case and all. You don't have to answer.”

“Well, I suppose some of it is about how you die,” she mused. “I had a pretty…non-traditional death, you know.”

“W-Well, yeah, I just meant in general,” Phoenix said. “People say that it’s peaceful, but I mean, none of them have ever had it happen to them.”

“True,” she admitted, considering it a moment.

“…So what did it feel like?”

“…It hurt,” she admitted. “Immensely.”

“Did it?”

“Yes. But…only for a moment.”

///

“So, Wright, if you don’t mind, I’d like to speak to my protégé.” Kristoph moved forward calmly. There was still that gleam in his eyes.

“I don’t—I don’t believe you,” Phoenix stammered, moving back again, blocking the door, eyes flickering back toward the front latch as panicked memories flashed in his eyes. Trapped. Trapped. What do I do? Kneecaps?! He shifted, and he could feel the faint throb of his shoulder. He'd been purposefully avoiding any strenuous activities for fear of reopening that gunshot wound. Could he even take Kristoph in a fight?

Kristoph wasn't predisposed to physical violence, but that didn't mean anything to Kristoph when he brained Shadi Enigmar. Or when he lunged at Apollo. Kristoph thought himself a cerebral type, the cold and calculating type, but if he was cornered, he wouldn't hesitate to murder Phoenix then and there, and they both knew that.

“Now which part is so unbelievable to you?” Kristoph asked.

“All of it. Any of it,” Phoenix said. “You’re a liar.”

“Believe it or not, I’m a big believer in second chances,” he said, shoes echoing loudly off the concrete floors. “All I need are apologies. I'd even consider accepting one from you if it seemed sincere enough.”

“You attacked him,” Phoenix said. “You destroyed my job prospects. If anything, you should be the one apologizing.” Shut up, Phoenix. Stop arguing with him.

“Is that right? Well then, let me apologize,” Kristoph said. “Although, and perhaps he didn’t mention this, Justice did attack me first.” He motioned to his eye. “I was only acting in self-defense. I was simply trying to subdue him."

"That's a lie too," Phoenix said.

"Is it?" Kristoph asked, leaning forward to rest on the counter. "Is that what he told you? How very irresponsible of him, trying to shrug off the blame." A smile. "But I suppose, at least, you're not the one I'd need to convince, am I?"

"Th…The police…"

"Are more certainly going to believe me over either of you," Kristoph said. "You, the insubordinate, lying, thieving ex-employee hellbent on trying to destroy my reputation for having you rightly thrown from my office. You, no family from what I can tell, no friends, certainly not the kind of connections that I have." He smiled. "And Justice, he's not going go testify against me."

"What makes you say that?" Phoenix said, fingernails digging into his palm.

His smile grew. "Because Apollo Justice is not that kind of person. He wouldn't lie to the police because you threatened him."

Phoenix blanched. "T-That's not—"

"Oh, but again, I'm sure you'll have this wonderfully inventive story about him coming to you for help. About his sob story, about him being afraid of me or something equally as ridiculous," Kristoph continued, shaking his head. "But in the end, Justice will do the right thing. He'll listen to his voice of reason and come crawling back to me."

"Shut up! You don't know him at all!"

Kristoph glanced around, as if he hadn’t spoken. “So this is that shop you kept getting coffee from?" he asked. "I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised this is where you brought him.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“This is where he spoke to my brother, correct?”

Was that Phoenix's heart stopping? “Wh…How…?”

“How did I know?” he asked. “Justice shared it with me, of course. He shares everything with me, remember? The bracelet, my brother, you, he always tells me.”

He always knows. I don't know how, but he always knows. “I don’t believe you,” Phoenix said.

“You still don’t?” Kristoph laughed. “Wright, you keep telling me that I don't know him, but here you are, mischaracterizing him again and again. I don't think you understand how this works.”

"Oh yeah?! Well—" A spark, and idea, in the back of his mind. This was not the time to fight. Maybe this wasn't even the time to argue. Now was the time to just listen to Kristoph talk. Quickly, he shoved his hands in his pockets, and calmly flipped a switch to record. “Well then explain it to me, Kristoph,” Phoenix said. “Explain to me how it works.”

“Apollo Justice doesn’t say no to me,” he replied with a shrug. “He doesn’t fight, or argue. Really, I’ve tested it out. There’s literally nothing I can’t do to him.” A smile. “It’s astounding, in a way. But I guess that’s what happens when no one else cares about a silly, starry-eyed orphan looking for some sort of father figure.”

Phoenix shook his head, knuckles turning white. “You b—” No, Phoenix, don't argue with him. "So you really think Apollo would lie for you?"

"Lie for me?" Kristoph asked, raising an eyebrow. "What part of any of this is a lie? Apollo attacked me, and I reacted in self defense. Apollo ran away in a panic because he was afraid of getting into trouble. Apollo came to you because you've been poisoning his mind with ridiculous lies."

"What are you talking about?"

"What do you mean what am I talking about?" Kristoph asked, sounding exasperated. "None of this started until you waltzed into our lives. Apollo was perfectly manageable a month ago. And then, quite suddenly, you start trying to poison him, turn him against me. Chasing after some long-lost family, as if I haven't done enough for him, acting as if my treatment of him has been unfair, when I have done nothing but keep him safe. This change has been from you, Wright."

Phoenix stared at Kristoph, looking for that smugness, that twisted smile, but Kristoph just looked annoyed now. And it occurred to Phoenix, right then.

"You…You really believe this, don't you?"

"…Believe what?"

"You really believe you're the one who's been wronged," Phoenix said, shoulders going slack. "Wh…What kind of entitled asshole…"

“Really? We’ve devolved to name-calling, Wright?” Kristoph muttered, crossing his arms. 

"You really believe that's all there is to Apollo," Phoenix said. "You really believe that he's just an—an object, a soundboard, a—a fucking toy. That your control is—that it's the right thing to do."

Kristoph's face continued to darken. "Now your just saying nonsense, Wright. Now where exactly is Justice?"

"You're just a parasite," he said, laughing weakly. "You need to leech off of everyone around you."

Kristoph slammed his hands onto the counter. "Where is he?!"

Phoenix swallowed, trying to calm himself down. Concentrate, Phoenix. The more he talks, the more you record. The more you can get him to talk, the closer backup gets. You're not running a marathon, you're just waiting out the clock. “You should leave,” he said firmly. “Apollo is done with you, alright? He doesn't need you anymore.”

For a moment, just for a moment his face twisted. Then the easy smile was back. “Doesn't need me anymore?" he repeated. "That’s not how this works, Wright, how many times do I need to say it?” He looked over Phoenix's shoulder, toward the door he'd been pressed against the whole time. “Justice!” he called. “I’m just here to talk. Please come out.”

Shifting against the door, Phoenix leaned back, hoping to look casual. “I already told you, he’s not here.”

Kristoph raised an eyebrow. Calmly, he took his phone from his pocket. He dialed. He paused. Then, a faint buzzing noise filled the air, muffled behind the door.

Phoenix cringed, glancing over his shoulder. Kristoph just chuckled. “Did he fall asleep?” he asked. “That seems like him, he always sleeps so soundly. It’s almost impossible to wake him up.”

"You really think you have power over him," Phoenix said.

He snorted. "I know I have power over him," he said.

"But you don't," Phoenix said. "You never do. You never have. And the moment you start losing your grip is the moment you panic." He let out a weak laugh. "It's not that you like control. You need it. Apollo, Klavier, Shadi Enigmar, me, the moment something stops playing by your rules that comes crumbling down."

Kristoph’s smile disappeared. “…what was that?”

“You need people to need you," Phoenix continued. "You need control, and you need people to control. Without that control, you're nothing but a pathetic, empty husk.”

“Why did you mention Shadi Enigmar?”

His brain short circuited. “…uh…”

“Phoenix Wright.” And Kristoph was moving around the counter, eyes locked on his. And for the first time, Phoenix saw fear. “Why did you mention Shadi Enigmar?”

Bad idea, bad idea, walk it back. “I-I, uh…I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You knew that Enigmar girl,” he said softly. “And my brother. And you knew just what you needed to turn Justice against me too." He was past the register, pausing only a few feet from Phoenix. "And all this time, I've been trying to figure out who you are, if you were dangerous." He let out a little laugh. "And I thought, no, of course not. You were just some silly little nobody. Some desperate stranger in need of a job. But here you are, surprising me once again." 

"I-I…" His lungs were constricting. His mind was racing. He made a mistake.

All I need is to run out the clock, he thought. What are your options, Phoenix? Run? Keep talking?

"I know what you did to him."

Keep talking it is then.

"Is that right," Kristoph murmured. "And how is that?"

"Well, I mean, it isn't hard, is it," Phoenix said. "You've been spying on people too." 

“So, what, you’ve been keeping tabs on me?” Kristoph asked, glasses gleaming. “Following me? Stalking me? Tracking my phone location, studying my movements? To what end, Wright?”

Tracking his phone…? “You were tracking Apollo’s phone," he whispered suddenly. "That’s why it lit up.”

Kristoph looked startled, before rolling his eyes. “Yes, well, that’s fairly simple to do when you basically have unlimited access to his possessions.”

“So Apollo didn’t tell you he was here,” Phoenix said, grinning.

“…I’m…” He took a deep, calming breath as he shook his head. “Not in so many words, no.”

“Then your control over him isn’t as powerful as you think it is,” Phoenix said. “He’s through with you.”

“You're wrong,” Kristoph said dryly. “But I think I’ve decided that I’m through with you.”

“Wh—”

Apollo’s empty coffee mug slammed into Phoenix’s face, shattering on impact. Phoenix yelped, falling to the side, covering his face as he collided with some sort of coffee machine. There were shards in his eyes, and he scrambled back against the wall, blinded, confused. He squinted, and kicked frantically at the figure. He felt his foot connect, and Kristoph snarled, stepping back a moment.

“Well, this isn’t how I wanted to spend my evening,” Kristoph said, grabbing something else off the counter. “But I guess sometimes you need to adjust.”

Phoenix tried to force himself to his feet, but the world was spinning and he could barely see, and Kristoph stood over him, glasses gleaming. "Wait…"

“Goodbye Wright.” And then the coffee machine slammed into Phoenix’s head. And there was a flash of light, and unbearable pain, blotting out everything else.

But only for a moment.

Chapter Text

The first thing Phoenix noticed was the pounding headache. It filled the space between his eyes, furiously pressing against his skull. He couldn’t see, or breathe, or move. For a terrifying moment, he couldn’t even remember his own name.

But just as quickly as it appeared, the pain passed. It was all gone, leaving nothing but a reeling numbness. He went still, breathing deeply, feeling fuzzy. His face was pressed against…

…against…

…no…that wasn’t right…

He groaned, and opened his eyes, squinting against the…but there was no light. Not that it was dark, either. It just…was.

He tried to gather his thoughts. Where am I? What happened? His whole body felt numb. His mind felt numb. He sat up slowly. Or quickly. Or…did he even sit up? He tried to look around, but there was no ‘around’. It was all just blank. Empty. Nothing.

“Err…hello?”

No response. He tried to stand up. What was he even sitting on? He tried to look down now, but there was nothing there, either.

“Hello?” he called again. It was muted, like he was in a soundproofed box. “Is anybody here?” Still no response. Just blank.

He sighed. “Alright, Phoenix, how did you get here?” He tried to crack his neck, but even moving felt wrong. Sluggish and too fast all at once. He shut his eyes a moment, not that it made a difference, and tried to think. What was I doing before I got here? he wondered. Where was I…?

Goodbye, Wright.

His eyes snapped open. “Oh god. Apollo?!” He looked around, but still, there was nothing. “Uh, Godot?” he tried. Then, even more feebly, “…Kristoph…?”

But they weren’t here.

“…oh god.” He felt sick. “Oh god, oh god, what the hell. Hello?! Guys?! Someone has to be here, god damn it!”

He tried to move, to walk, to swing his arms. Did he have arms? Was he even really here? “Is this what the afterlife is?!” he shouted frantically. “This can’t just be it! It can’t just be…this! What even is this?! There’s nothing here!” It was odd, trying not to hyperventilate when you weren’t even sure you had lungs. “Come on! There has to be something here!”

And then there was.

At first, he thought he imagined it. But there was movement in his peripheral. He turned.

A blurry figure, walking. Hands in their pockets. Head down. Phoenix frowned at it, trying to make the image come into focus. “Uh, hello? Is someone…here?”

The figure was moving closer. It was like a sketch at first. An outline. As it solidified, it began to walk past him. It was a man. Wearing a blue suit. Wearing a blue beanie. Wearing a gold badge on his lapel.

“Wh…What is this?” Phoenix asked, but the other Phoenix paid him no mind. He kept walking, as the image continued to solidify. He was walking down the street, cutting through the alley that Phoenix would take to get to the prosecutor’s office. And as Phoenix followed after himself, he realized where they were.

The figure, the other him, stopped. He sighed, hands in his pockets, head leaning back. He stood there, staring at the sky, eyes glazed over. He was playing with the beanie absently.

Another figure materialized. A scribble, a sketch, slowly solidifying into a thin, reedy-looking man. Phoenix didn’t recognize him. And then he did.

“That was the witness,” he said, to no one.

The details he’d forgotten flashed through his mind. He had been on a case. Not a murder, officially, they hadn’t found a body. The defendant had been the last one to see the victim alive, and Phoenix had been working himself ragged. He was so sure he was on the right track. That the victim was still alive, and that the defendant hadn’t done it.

There had been threats. Against the Agency. Against Phoenix. Demands that they drop the case, or face consequences. Phoenix had hoped maybe they could use that, draw the real danger out. Edgeworth had been less than thrilled at that idea, but it wasn’t like Phoenix could just drop a case in the middle. He would stay until the end.

And the reedy man pulled a wrench from his jacket pocket. As the other Phoenix turned in confusion, the wrench struck him in the head, and he went down, hard.

The witness (What was his name? Maybe it didn’t matter anymore.) turned and ran. His outline unspooled and dissolved, and he was gone.

And Phoenix stood over his own body, unblinking. Holding breath he didn’t have.

And then, something odd happened. As he watched, the image of his own body began to waver. The alley around him wobbled. And then, the entire image shifted. Two alleyways, overlapping. Two Phoenix’s, lying on the ground. Like he was cross-eyed. Like it was some primitive 3D drawing.

One Phoenix slowly sat up. The figure winced as he did, looking around, rubbing dirt from his face. Carefully, he climbed to his feet, reaching up, rubbing the back of his head as he blinked and squinted at the world around him. He looked confused.

‘Well, this isn’t a repeat of the Byrde trial,’ the figure said silently.

“…Oh.”

Phoenix watched the figure start fishing around in his pockets, and he knew exactly what he was looking at. He couldn't help but let his eyes drift toward the other figure. The one that had yet to move.

The one Phoenix began moving off. Walking down the alley. Half of the overlap moved with it, changing to the street, to the building containing the WAA.

The first Phoenix didn’t move. He lay facedown. Face against the asphalt. Was he even breathing?

“I don’t understand,” Phoenix murmured. “What is this? Why is this?”

Another figure. This one ran toward the Phoenix on the ground. It was blurry, lacking a face. A good Samaritan, Phoenix assumed, pulling out a phone, shouting, dialing 911. While one Phoenix stood in front of his old apartment, fumbling with his keys, the other was being hauled onto a stretcher, toward an ambulance.

Phoenix couldn’t turn away. It almost hurt to look at. One Phoenix was entering a library, and Miles Edgeworth stumbled into view, eyes wide, lurching toward the unconscious figure in the hospital bed before a nurse caught him. She was saying something unintelligible, and Miles didn’t even look at her. He could see him shouting his name. ‘Phoenix! Phoenix!’

“Miles.”

The world lurched forward. On one side, Phoenix was talking to Gumshoe, and Kay, and Godot. On the other side, a constant revolving doors of figures passing through. Athena and Apollo. Miles and Trucy. Maya and Pearls.

His eyes kept drawing toward that second image. The real world. His real world. There was Miles, sleeping in a chair with his glasses askew. There was Trucy, smiling and entertaining until the moment she was alone with her thoughts. There was Apollo, crying into the chest of a frightened and unprepared Klavier Gavin. There was Athena, berating Simon Blackquill as he let Taka in through a window. There was Larry, wailing into a furious Miles’s cravat as if he were the one who needed to be comforted. Maya and Pearl, meditating and frightening the nurses. Gumshoe and Maggey, sniffling and leaving a card at his bedside. Franziska, sneaking in while no one was there and placing unmarked flowers on the side table. Defendants from ages past, faces he hadn't seen in years, passing through with a card or chocolate.

Always someone sleeping there overnight. Never alone. Miles occasionally holding Phoenix’s hand. Trucy sometimes resting her chin on his arm. Apollo and Athena, spreading their paperwork on a nearby table and simply working in the hospital room.

Phoenix stared, feeling like he was breaking into thousands of pieces, sure he would be crying if he were able to. God, he wanted to reach out. He wanted to touch Miles’s shoulder, take his daughter’s hand, hell, if he could even just poke Larry to confirm any of this were real he would.

The world sped up. They kept going, kept moving along, and Phoenix watched, watched the life he’d missed and the life he’d lived for a month. He almost felt dizzy. Phoenix applied for a job at Gavin Law Offices, and Trucy was doing card tricks, pulling a card from Phoenix’s hospital gown sleeve as several people yelled at her. Phoenix was bringing Apollo to the coffee shop as Athena and Apollo were rock-paper-scissoring to decide who was spending the night.

And then there was Phoenix, standing in front of the back door of Godot’s coffee. Kristoph was staring at him, a wild gleam in his eyes, hand surreptitiously grabbing the coffee mug from the counter. Miles was sitting in the overlap, talking quietly with a kindly-looking doctor. The woman help up a vaccine of some sort and Miles shook his head quickly, shooing the woman out.

Kristoph lashed out with the cup, and Phoenix stumbled backward, hitting the ground. He kicked at Kristoph’s kneecap, and calmly, Kristoph grabbed a coffee machine, and brought it down on Phoenix’s head.

And on the other side, the heart monitor flatlined.

“Wh…” Phoenix and Miles looked toward it at the same time. He could see Miles’s face blank, a moment of confusion, then shock, then terror. And he stumbled up, shouting, but Phoenix could not hear him.

Kristoph was looking down at the mess he’d made. Sighing, he grabbed a towel off the counter and scooped up the mug handle, and the coffee machine. He tossed another towel in the sink to block the drain, and threw his fingerprints into the slowly rising water.

Miles started smacking the call-nurse button in a panic, still shouting, grabbing Phoenix’s arm. That doctor from before stumbled back in, wide-eyed, pulling Miles away and grabbing a defibrillator.

“I don’t want to see this.”

Kristoph wiped the towel along the counter as the sink began to overflow. Then he strode toward the latch of the front door, wiping everything he may have touched. As he wiped it down, he stiffened. With a quick glance over his shoulder, he pulled the door open, and slipped away. The door to the back opened, and a confused Godot, clutching a precariously-balanced bag of takeout to his chest, tripped over Phoenix’s outstretched leg.

“Stop.” No one could hear him, but he didn’t care. “Stop it, I don’t want to see this.”

A nurse pulled Miles from the hospital room. Several more rushed past him as he shouted in the doorway.

The food tumbled from Godot's hands into the slowly flooding room. He slammed the door to the back room, blocking it with a chair as he fumbled with his phone.

Everything was silent but there was a ringing sound in his ears that was smothering him as he watched himself dying twice and he screamed, “STOP!”

And then it did.

Everything stopped. Godot, and Miles, and the doctors, everything froze in place. And then, slowly, it began to rewind. Godot disappearing and Kristoph reappearing. Miles’s panic fading to confusion, fading to the eye roll from talking with an overenthusiastic doctor.

And the images froze. They were no longer overlapping. On one side stood Kristoph, staring emotionlessly down at Phoenix. On the other side, Miles sat by Phoenix’s bedside, reaching for some work to pass the time. They all stood there, motionless, silent. Waiting, almost. And Phoenix looked between the two images. And he knew.

“…no,” he murmured. Then louder. “No! What?! No! I can’t…this isn’t right! What the hell?!” He tried to back away, but nothing changed. “I can’t leave now! I—I—This isn’t—”

There was no one else here. No one to argue with. Could anyone even hear him? “I…do I only get one?” he asked. “What…What happens to the other one?”

The images jolted forward again. Kristoph grabbed a towel, Miles hit the call nurse button.

“Stop.”

Again, they froze.

Phoenix felt sick. “If…I can’t…I can’t just…what…” The images slowly reversed again, back to the static image. Back to the choice he was being given. Back to the two lives he’d lived. Back to the two lives he could live.

“What…What’s going to happen to Apollo?” he asked.

The one image began to move. He watched Kristoph cleaning meticulously. He watched Godot enter, calling the police. He watched the police barging into the back room, grabbing Apollo and startling him awake. Each passing second, the image was becoming rougher, like a photograph slowly unraveling into a rough sketch, and then it was gone altogether.

He felt sick. “…and Miles?”

The other image started. Miles calling the nurse, being led out the door. The doctor trying to revive him. The nurse pulling a white sheet over his face, as Miles’s shell-shocked face slowly dissolved into outline, then nothing.

“…so someone always loses, huh?”

The images reversed. Back to the start. Miles and Kristoph, and two Phoenix’s lying unmoving.

“What was I supposed to learn here?!” he screamed. He wished the noise echoed, just to prove it was real. “What was I supposed to get out of this goddamn experience, huh?! What?! Why am I here?!”

But even saying it, he knew there wasn’t a why. There wasn’t anything. It just was. He was just here. That was all there was to it.

He looked back up at the images. He was so close. He could go home right now. God, he wanted to go home so badly. But there was still so much to do. There were so many people left behind, no matter which way he turned, and he couldn’t just leave, but he was so close to freedom, to his family, and he wanted to scream until his throat was raw.

So he did.

And he screamed, and he screamed, and nothing moved. Nothing stirred. Nothing made a noise, and nothing mattered. Just the impossible choice. Just a trolley and two tracks. No winners anywhere. At least not for him.

“I can’t do this,” he whispered. “I-I can’t…I…”

But time was frozen, and the world couldn’t wait for him forever. He had to choose something, and he knew it.

He gave the images one last look. Side by side, two disasters. Two sacrifices.

Someday you’ll need to make a decision, Miles said from so long ago.

“I…I want…”

///

It took a moment for his eyes to adjust. He blinked up at the ceiling, trying to focus as the rest of his senses slowly returned. His head hurt immensely. His body felt heavy.

And that beeping, that slow, steady beeping, slowly began to fill his ears.

He looked around, squinting the world into focus. The other figure in the room was writing, brows furrowed, focused on his work. There was no emergency. No rush. It was just a day like any other.

“…Miles?”

Miles Edgeworth jumped, paperwork spilling out of his hands. He looked up, and their eyes met. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

And despite the sob welling in his chest, Phoenix smiled. “I’m home.”

Chapter Text

“You seem different, Wright.”

His head was resting on Phoenix’s chest, just listening to his heartbeat. He’d been doing that often, since the day Phoenix was cleared to go home. Phoenix had tried to tease him about it once, but Edgeworth had snapped at him, so he let the subject drop.

“In what way?”

“I’m not sure,” Edgeworth mused, frowning. “It’s nothing worth calling the physicians in, of course. But you keep…staring into space, like you’re lost in thought.”

“I mean, I was in a coma for, what, a month?” Phoenix shrugged. “I can’t help it if I’m a little groggy.”

“You just look so…lost,” Edgeworth said, frowning. “Or distraught, possibly. I have yet to determine what exactly it is, but there is something to it. It worries me.”

“You worry too much,” Phoenix said, staring up at the ceiling. “I’m fine. I’m here. Alive. With you. With everyone.”

“I suppose maybe I do worry too much,” Edgeworth mused. “Though considering the man I fell in love with, you can’t exactly blame me.” They both chuckled a bit at that. “Just let me know if you need anything. The doctors don’t want you doing anything too strenuous.”

“I’ll let you know,” he murmured. Everyone had been saying that to him, for the past few weeks. His coworkers, his friends, even people he hadn’t seen in ages were reaching out to him.

It was nice. Mostly. To be back among people who loved him. If it didn’t hurt so much.

Phoenix shut his eyes. Stop thinking about it. Stop thinking about it. “…hey Miles?”

“Hmm.”

“Is sex too strenuous—?”

“For the last time, yes, sex is too strenuous,” Edgeworth snapped, glaring up at him as a lopsided grin spread across the Phoenix’s face. “I’m not putting you back into a coma because of your idiotic libido.”

Phoenix laughed, shaking his head. “I’m joking, I’m joking,” he said. He cracked his neck, looking over toward the crumpled paper on his bedside table. "I have so much to do…"

///

Phoenix Wright’s To-Do List

• Get back to work

///

“Of course, we’ve been keeping the Wright Anything Agency afloat without you, boss,” Athena said, grinning proudly. “Don’t you worry, we’ve been taking care of everything. We paid the bills on time, we’ve kept the place nice and tidy—”

“Excuse me?” Apollo interrupted, crossing his arms. “What’s with all this ‘we’ stuff? I’m the one that remembered to pay our bills. And clean.”

“Well, this job is a group effort, Apollo,” Athena said with a nod. “Besides, we were also working cases and stuff. That we did together.”

“Just because you helped do your actual job doesn’t mean you get credit for paying the bills!”

Phoenix laughed, sitting down in his own chair for the first time in, well, weeks. Trucy smiled at him as he did.

“Welcome back, daddy,” she whispered, as Apollo and Athena continued to bicker. “We missed you.”

He smiled at her. I'm glad to be back, he tried to say. But even as he opened his mouth, he knew she'd see right through him.

“I missed you guys too,” he said instead.

///

• Visit Godot

///

“Well, of all the bridges I’ve burned over the years, yours was the one I least expected anyone to cross,” Godot said, leaning back in his seat with a curious frown.

It was odd to see Godot in a prison uniform, for many reasons. But overall, he looked like he’d been faring well in prison. He looked the same as when Phoenix had last seen him.

…when Phoenix had last seen him…

“I didn’t expect to see you again either,” Phoenix replied, folding his arms as he leaned on the table.

“You need something, then?” he asked. “People don’t cross the river Styx just to say hi to the damned.”

“…actually, I kind of just…wanted to talk.”

Godot frowned deeper, looking more confused than anything. “And why the hell is that?”

He didn’t know this man sitting on the other side of the glass. He didn't know Godot. They'd had maybe five conversations outside of court.

He knew another man. He owed another man. A different man. There was no reason for him to be here. There was no closure to be found here. There was nothing.

He laughed, mostly at himself. “I…did you hear I was in a coma for a month?”

"I don't get many messages here," Godot said.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. "What?" Godot muttered. "Were you hoping for words of wisdom? Advice? Sympathy?"

"I was…I don't know what I want," he said softly, staring down at his hands. "I don't know why I'm here."

Godot looked over Phoenix’s face, face unreadable. But he sighed, and cracked his neck. “Alright then, Mr. Wright, let’s talk.”

///

• Talk to Lamiroir

///

“Mr. Wright!” Her gentle voice was soft through the phone. He could hear movement, but couldn't place what she was doing. “We haven’t spoken in a while. I heard a rumor you were ill.”

“You need to tell them.”

There was a pause. Whatever she’d been doing on the other line, she stopped. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t want to keep pretending I don’t know anything,” Phoenix said. It was after hours, and the lights were off. He was alone, pacing the office. “I promised myself that Apollo was going to meet you. And Trucy, they both deserve so much. I…I know you said you would reach out when you were ready, but please.” He heard his voice crack, but he didn’t care. “I don’t know if any of us will be here forever. I want to make sure…”

“…that must have been quite the illness,” she said softly.

“Please, Thalassa.”

She sighed a bit. “…I’m not recovered entirely.”

He inhaled sharply.

“But,” she interjected, before he could say anything else, “I am able to see. And I have my memories.” Another soft sigh. “I…was hoping there would be some sort of sign. Something letting me know when to return. Perhaps…this is the sign.” He could hear the smile in her voice. “I will try to be in town within the month. Let me know when it’s convenient to stop in.”

“Thank you,” he whispered, a grin splitting his face even as the tears began to roll. “Thank you…”

///

• Properly meet Kay

///

“Thanks for the invite, Mr. Wright!” Kay said, grinning as she shook Phoenix’s hand.

“Of course,” Phoenix said, letting her pass through the door. “Any friend of Edgeworth is a friend of mine.” It had been a while since many of their old friends had been in town to visit, and Phoenix had suggested having some over. A celebration of sorts. Friends from near and far. And Phoenix had been insistent on Edgeworth's friends joining in.

"C'mon, Edgeworth, I never get to meet your friends. I know you have some. What about Gumshoe? Kay? That one Interpol guy?"

"Alright, that 'Interpol guy' is stretching the definition of friendship."

In the end, he'd conceded, and they'd sent out a few extra invites. Most of Edgeworth’s other dinner guests had already entered by now, but Phoenix had made it a point to greet everyone coming through the door.

"And I’ve heard quite a bit about you," Phoenix said, taking Kay's coat.

“I’ve heard a ton about you too!” she replied. Then, “Well, sort of.”

“…sort of?”

“Well yeah.” She grabbed a tissue from a nearby box and held it to her chest. “’Ergo, heretofore, that man who showed me the error of my ways, blah blah, but I will never tell you his name until we literally start dating—‘”

“Kay!” came an irritated voice. “That is not what my voice sounds like!”

Phoenix snorted, and led her inside. "I feel like we have plenty to talk about."

///

• Be nicer to Apollo

///

“Hey, Apollo, have I ever told you I’m proud of you?”

Apollo froze, halfway through cleaning up some sort of magician-related disaster spread over the couch. “…huh?”

“Have I ever told you I’m proud of you?” Phoenix repeated.

Apollo stared at him like he’d grown a second head. “N…No? No. No, I’m positive you have never said that to me before,” he said.

“Well, it’s true,” Phoenix said firmly. “I’m proud of you.”

“Y…Wh…Mr. Wright, are you still concussed?” Apollo asked. "What are you talking about?"

“You’ve grown a lot since we first met,” Phoenix said matter-of-factly, helping grab a few stray handkerchiefs from the floor. “And you’ve become a capable, confident young man. I…I feel like I always forget to mention it, but I just figured I should say something.”

Apollo blinked at him, frozen in place. “O…O-Oh…” he said. “That…I…Thank you Mr. Wright.” His voice cracked, and he turned back toward the couch, ears turning crimson. “I’m just…I-I'm gonna finish this…”

“Of course,” Phoenix said, trying not to grin as Apollo refused to make any more eye contact. “Keep up the good work.”

“Mr. Wright if you make me cry I’m quitting on the spot,” he shouted.

Phoenix just laughed, ignoring the pang in his chest.

///

• Visit Kurain Village

///

“So, Nick, how’re you feeling?”

Phoenix had leaned back on the fence in the winding way, watching as Trucy and Pearl stood in the garden, attempting to volley Pearl’s old ball. Maya leaned next to him, handing him a cup of what should’ve been tea, but looked to be orange soda.

“Feeling alright, all things considered.”

Maya sipped at her drink. “We were worried we’d need to channel you to figure out who knocked your block off, you know.”

“Athena and Apollo told me about how that case wrapped up,” Phoenix said. “Wish I’d been there to help.”

She shrugged. “Well, it is what it is, I guess—Oh Shit!” She jumped, swatting the ball out of the air before it collided with the mystic urn again. “Hey!”

“Woo! Go Aunt Maya!” Trucy shouted as Pearl clapped a hand over her mouth in horror.

“If you break it, you’re gonna have to get the glue yourself!” Maya chided, and Phoenix snorted.

“That’s it? That’s the punishment?”

“C’mon, Nick, how many times has this urn broke? I don’t care that much.”

Phoenix smiled at her. At Pearl and Trucy.

When was it supposed to start feeling real?

“…Say Nick?” Maya was watching him closely. “Are you sure you’re good?”

He blinked. “Hmm? Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You just seem…off, you know?” she said.

“Why does everyone keep saying that?” Phoenix snapped. “I’m fine, Maya.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You certainly sound it,” she muttered.

“…sorry,” Phoenix said.

“…I’m glad you’re here,” she finished after a moment.

“I’m…” But he couldn’t finish the thought.

///

• Check on Franziska

///

“Alright, let me repeat that, Mr. Phoenix Wright,” Franziska von Karma said, twisting her whip in irritation. “You have come to me, while I am in the office, working, simply to ‘see how I am doing’?”

“W-Well yeah!” he said. “That’s not that weird.”

“You are a fool,” she said, sitting down. She worked internationally now, with Interpol, but she did have a small office at the Prosecutors’ Offices for when she was in town. It was a simple room, she hadn’t had time to personalize it. “A fool for thinking I wouldn’t pick up on your ulterior motives.”

“Motives?” he asked. “Listen, I was just in a coma for a month, I just want to see how everyone is—”

“The question becomes, what is your motive?” she said. “I have many theories, of course.”

He rolled his eyes. “Theories like what?” he muttered, realizing he was never going to retake control of this conversation.

“Well, theory one is that you have fallen madly in love with me, which not only is repulsive, but wholly unwanted.”

“Ew.”

“Do not say ‘ew’, Mr. Phoenix Wright, we all know that I am perfect and far out of your league.” She folded her arms on her desk, smirking at the disgust on Phoenix’s face. “But barring that option, perhaps you are here to finally ask my permission to marry my little brother.”

“Wh—Huh?!”

“If that is the case, the fact that you have dragged your feet for so long makes me hesitant to do more than simply break both of your wrists for even suggesting such a thing.”

“Ms. von Karma, I’ve been in a coma for a month,” he said. “I don’t think now would even remotely be a good time—”

“Ah yes, I have forgotten that the both of you are fools,” she mused, cutting him off. “Well. Without either of those options, as we are not friends, I see no reason for you to be ‘checking up on me’.”

“I guess not,” Phoenix muttered. But still, as she calmly shooed him from her office (via whip), he couldn’t help but sigh a bit in relief. Not friends, but she seemed to be doing alright. That’s all he really wanted to see.

God he wished that didn’t make him queasy.

///

• Talk to someone?

///

“So my Mood Matrix is picking up a lot of weird, conflicting emotions from you.”

Phoenix frowned down at her. Athena had pulled him aside, away from Apollo and Trucy, into a back office.

“In what way?”

“You’re trying really hard,” she said. “To sound happy, to sound excited, but you can’t shake this…sadness, this anger, this pain you’re carrying with you.” She put her hands on her hips. “Apollo seems to trigger it often, but it’s more than just him. It's everything.”

“I…”

“You feel guilty for something,” she said, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t know why, we caught the guy who attacked you, we solved the case. I just…I’m kind of worried, Mr. Wright. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

He stared at her a moment, before letting out something akin to a laugh and a sigh. “I guess I should’ve figured you’d be the hardest to hide from,” he said.

“Well, if you’re not feeling 100%, you don’t need to hide it,” Athena said firmly. “Apollo and I, and Trucy, and Mr. Edgeworth, we all care about you.”

He looked her over. “Sometimes I’m not even completely sure I woke up,” he said. “Or what was real and what wasn’t.”

Her stern frown faded. “…Mr. Wright…?”

“I don’t want to trouble you guys,” he said. “I just want things to get back to normal. I need things to go back to normal.”

Athena nodded. “Well. Normal is relative. You don’t need to force things back to how they were." She gave him a smile. "You have people who care about you, boss. We’re with you every step of the way, alright?”

“…Thanks, Athena.”

///

• Was any of it even real…?

///

“I’m sincerely considering attempting to sue the hospital for medical malpractice,” Edgeworth announced suddenly.

Phoenix looked up from his spot on the couch, raising an eyebrow. “Uh, why?”

“I know you keep insisting it’s not anything to concern myself with,” and Edgeworth prodded at Phoenix’s shoulder, “but I swear, this was not here before you were in the hospital.”

Phoenix’s stomach clenched, looking away from the almost healed wound. “Edgeworth, I’m telling you, drop it. It’s not worth it.”

Edgeworth scowled, but simply laid his head on Phoenix’s arm. “I know an abundant number of attorneys,” he said.

Nearby, Trucy laughed, looking up from her homework. “I think we all know that,” she called.

“Not just defense and prosecution. I’ve met plenty of personal injury lawyers—”

“I believe you,” Phoenix said, giving Trucy a grin as she turned back to her homework with a giggle.

“Well, as long as you’re aware,” Edgeworth muttered, and Phoenix just shook his head, stifling a yawn.

“Ugh, I have no idea why I’m sleepy all of a sudden,” he muttered.

“Well, I can hardly find fault in that,” Edgeworth said. “You’ve been having quite an interesting couple of months. I won’t stop you if you want to get some extra rest.”

“I guess you’re right,” Phoenix said, climbing to his feet. “I’m just going to—”

The dizziness hit him like a truck. He stopped, grabbing the arm of the couch.

“…Wright?”

“Daddy?”

“Ah, sorry, one sec, I just…” Another wave, his vision was spotting. “I’m just gonna sit back down and…”

Then his vision went entirely.

He grimaced, blinking hard, trying to see, trying to fight off the nausea. He must’ve made it to a sitting position, because he was sitting on the ground. Was he on a rug? What was that about?

Slowly the spots in his vision dissolved. He blinked a few times, and looked up, ready to reassure Edgeworth that yes, he was fine, no need to call an ambulance.

Instead, he was greeted by a startled Apollo Justice.

“Wh—?!”

“Mr. Wright?!”

“Apollo?!” Phoenix blinked. “What the hell?! Why are you in my house?!”

Apollo looked around, looked at him, eyes wide. “Wh…Huh? Your house?”

“Wh…? Yeah my…” And Phoenix looked around too.

Candles. Tatami mat. Folding screen. Locked door. And, when he looked down, he could see Pearl Fey’s robes, ill-fitting on his own body.

“…wait…”

“Mr. Wright, uh. Hi.”

Phoenix looked at him. Stared at him. He was a bit thinner than Phoenix remembered from just that morning. A bit more disheveled. But there was that spark in his eyes, and Phoenix just knew.

“I died here,” he said. “Pearl is channeling me.”

“Ah. Yeah.” He shrugged nervously. Phoenix could see some faint, yellowing bruises on his neck as he tugged on his collar. “Your one friend told me about this place, and I wanted to talk to you, so I just, uh…”

“You’re channeling me,” Phoenix said. And then, “Oh my god, you’re okay.”

“Oh. Right, yeah, I guess…a lot has happened.” He gave a weak smile.

Phoenix returned it. “I want to hear it.”

///

And so they talked. And they talked. They talked about the trials he’d missed. About Apollo and Kristoph. About Godot and Franziska. About Gumshoe, and Kay, and Trucy, and Athena.

“Ms. Cykes, Athena, she was the first person to believe me," he told him. "Other than Mr. Gavin, for…obvious reasons. And so many people came in to help me. People I met, people I hadn't, hell, even Ms. von Karma. You’ve…" he laughed. "You've made some really weird friends, Mr. Wright,” he finished.

“I’ve made some good friends,” Phoenix said, smiling through the tears.

“…I’m sorry,” Apollo said, quieter, pulling his knees to his chest. “I got you into this mess, and Mr. Gavin…Kristoph…he killed you.”

“I knew what I was getting myself into,” Phoenix said softly.

“But you…all these people cared about you so much, I just…I wish I could switch it.”

“Don’t wish that,” Phoenix said, eyes locking onto Apollo's. “This…hell, this is more than I could’ve hoped for. More than I could've hoped for in a million years.”

Apollo sniffled a bit. “Mr. Wright…”

“I should’ve trusted you guys,” he said with a watery laugh. “You guys always find a way.” He grabbed Apollo’s shoulder. “Take care of things for me, will you?”

Apollo sat there a moment. Then he moved forward and hugged him. “Of course, Mr. Wright.”

///

Edgeworth had called an ambulance, of course. There was a paramedic hovering over him when he came to. Edgeworth and Trucy stood nearby, both jumping forward when they realized Phoenix was awake.

“Daddy!”

“Phoenix are you alright?!”

Trucy grabbed him in a hug. Edgeworth had knelt down next to him.

Phoenix stared up at his family. And he smiled, feeling tears prickling at his eyes. “I’m alright,” he said. “I’m home.”

And he was.