Chapter Text
The first time Lana sees her, it’s entirely by chance.
As a senior student with remarkable grades, she’s been appointed to assist the professor on a lecture to one of the junior classes. To be entirely truthful, there isn’t much for her to do to begin with; the professor is still in charge of the lecture, only occasionally throwing a question to Lana to further make his point across, question Lana would promptly answer with impeccable precision and no hesitation. From her advantage point at the desk, she can see the bent heads of the young first years, scribbling furiously both question and answer on their notepads as to be able to learn it by heart for the exam.
All but one.
Unlike her fellow coursemates, the girl in the middle row doesn’t seem too keen to waste time taking notes until her wrist fell off. She’s sitting upright, arms crossed in front of her chest as she watches, thoroughly enraptured, the professor pace around the room, dutifully drinks every word the old man says, absorbs them and digests them much more deeply than her scribe friends can ever do. When she does take notes, they’re quick and concise, not a word too much.
She’s odd. She’s different. She stands out from the crowd, sits tall and proud and confident like a skyscraper among a bunch of two-stories huts. She’s also very pretty, Lana belatedly notices, with long chestnut hair flowing smoothly all the way past her shoulders and focused eyes of the same color.
Goodness, those eyes. They’re burning, smoldering flames, an untameable wildfire that keeps growing and growing, every word of the professor fanning and stoking the fire to dangerous levels, and the old man drones on and on, blissfully ignorant of the force of nature he’s nurturing.
The brunette girl is burning so bright, Lana wonders whether she’s going to become blind if she stares too long.
When class ends, Lana quickly gathers the notes and other papers the professor has left scattered and unattended on the desk. Barely waiting for the old man’s dismissal, she’s quick to turn on her heels and exit the room without sparing another glance at the crowd of students.
She has the uncanny feeling she’s being watched intently as she makes her way out.
They meet again during a conference. It’s mandatory for third years to attend, so Lana is not surprised to see the wide auditorium quickly filling up with students of varying degrees of interest.
What’s more surprising is when a finger pokes at Lana’s shoulder and she turns only to find herself face to face with the very same girl who has seared such an intense first impression in Lana’s mind. The mysterious girl beams at her and points at the empty seat next to Lana.
“Excuse me, is this spot free?”
Lana nods stiffly, “Yes, of course.”
The girl politely thanks her and quickly sets her bag down, picking up her notebook and pens.
“I’m Mia, by the way,” she says conversationally as she sets her stuff on the small table in front of her and opens the notebook to an empty page. “Mia Fey.”
It’s a pretty name, Lana finds herself thinking. Short and sharp and quick witted, just like its owner.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, I’m Lana Skye.” before she can think twice about it, she’s offered her hand for Mia to shake, which she promptly does. Her grasp is a lot stronger than her very feminine looks would lead to think.
Mia smiles, a little coyly. “Yes, I know.” When Lana’s eyes widen in surprise, she quickly elaborates. “You’re quite popular among us first years. The youngest TA in history of Ivy U.”
Lana shakes her head, exasperated. “I’m no TA. Just a senior student like any other. Speaking of which, are you not too young to be attending this conference? It’s not required for your exams this year.”
Mia shrugs, though her eyes harden ever so slightly. “I don’t really care about what is mandatory or not. I’m only focused to learn, to graduate as fast as I possibly can and accomplish what I’ve set out to do.”
There’s a hard conviction in Mia’s voice that doesn’t belong to a first year student. The fire in her eyes burns hot and bright and, unless Lana is sorely mistaken, bitter.
Her interest is piqued. Just who is this young student, so different from the grey, faceless crowd. Her natural curiosity, her desire to uncover the truth, takes over her, pushes her to grow close to this whirlwind of a woman, to unravel the mystery.
The conference starts, and no more words are spoken between the two, their attention focused entirely on the matter at hand. It’s not so hard to do so; the topic of the conference is the widely known DL-6 case, a case so enshrouded in mystery that is extremely unlikely not to feel at least a bit intrigued.
As the professor changes slide, Lana takes the chance to sneak a peek at Mia. She’s even more focused than Lana, sharp eyes fixed intently on the projected images and words, teeth nibbling nervously at her lower lip. She’s all but glaring at the slides, as though demanding for them to reveal the secret of DL-6 to her at once.
It takes all of Lana’s self control not to recoil in surprise and what feels suspiciously like fear.
When the conference ends and they’re dismissed, Mia is quick to recompose herself to her smiling persona. “That was interesting, wasn’t it?”
Lana doesn’t reply; she simply grabs her things and puts them back in her bag. She’s still rather unnerved by the repentine shift in Mia’s attitude she has witnessed. She wants to ask what is the deal with that behavior, but it would be extremely out of her boundaries. She simply nods and stands up. Mia follows suit.
“Would you like a coffee?”
Lana blinks, confused, and stops. “Pardon?”
“Well,” for the first time, Mia looks embarrassed, caught wrong-footed. A rather charming blush stains her cheeks as she nervously tucks her hair behind her ear shell. “You don’t have to, of course. I just thought… we could compare our notes over coffee? There are some passages I have doubts on, and I’ve always appreciated your explanations in class rather than professor Lewis’s so…”
The smile on Mia’s face is bright, but also shy and tentative, far from the usual confidence she carries herself with. For the first time since Lana’s noticed her, Lana might be catching a glimpse of the innermost, vulnerable Mia Fey.
Lana is playing with fire, that much she knows. And yet, try as she might,she just can’t stop.
“Of course.”
It doesn’t take long for studying sessions to become coffee dates, and for coffee dates to evolve into proper dates.
They quickly find out they have plenty in common: they bond over having a younger sister they’d die for, over being orphans of both parents, over their interest in finding the truth. Were it not for their opposite career path choice, Lana would think they are uncannily identical, like they were made to resemble each other.
Mia proves to be as sharp and funny as Lana had first surmised. She catches on details much quicker than anybody else, and the flexibility of her reasoning allows her to switch her point of view time and time again, no matter how many times she gets stumped, never giving up in her relentless quest for the truth.
Mia jokingly says she’s been attracted to Lana - not only intellectually - from the very beginning, but Lana thinks it’s actually the other way around. She doubts she has ever met someone like Mia in her whole life, with the burning determination the younger woman radiates, an almost palpable aura wrapping around her form whenever she works on a case. It’s intimidating, and yet a mesmerizing spectacle Lana feels blessed to be allowed to see so closely.
It all ends when Lana graduates with top marks, takes the first uncertain step on the prosecutor’s path. Mia is there to attend her graduation ceremony, of course. She’s arguably the loudest to clap and whoop as Lana is given her degree. Lana smiles brightly at her audience, her sister and her girlfriend and a few friends that have come a long way to witness this moment.
And yet, now that she’s going to become a prosecutor, she and Mia have to part ways.
Mia knows this, of course. They have agreed on it as soon as the day Lana would take her degree started approaching dangerously close. Mia knows it, and if her eyes are a little red, if there are a few shadows under her eyes that her makeup can’t fully conceal, she surely doesn’t let Lana see a single tear.
The room empties, leaving only the two of them. There’s an awkward silence, full of whispered words that will never be spoken out loud and promises that will never be kept. Lana takes a deep sigh, steels herself to say something, but Mia shakes her head.
“Don’t say anything.”
The kiss they share, alone in the empty auditorium, the same where they’ve met, will forever be seared onto Lana’s lips, for many years to come.
When they meet again, Mia has her own law firm and Lana has just been appointed Chief Prosecutor, the youngest to date yet in the whole country.
She doesn’t know why she’s here. It’s late in the evening, the office is quiet, and she has quite an humongous load of work to do.
It’s been a few months since that terrible accident, and although the press has long stopped poking their nose into it, the same can’t be said for some uncomfortably curious police members. Gant has already fired detective Starr and demoted Marshall to mere officer, another ploy to further establish his power on the Police Department. He’s breathing down Lana’s neck, always keeping a very close watch on what she does and with whom she speaks.
She endures, silently. For Ema’s sake, she holds on, and so she will for as long as she needs to.
Today Gant is out of the country for a conference, and Lana has her first, truly free day in months.
And for some unknown reasons, she finds herself standing in front of the Fey&co. Law Offices.
The plaque outside the otherwise rather nondescript door has the polished sheen of enthusiastic inexperience, a little ostentatious with its golden glimmer that stands out of the grey wall like a sore thumb. For a brief moment, Lana is catapulted back in time, at day she laid eyes on Mia Fey for the very first time. Just like then, Mia can’t refrain from shine and set herself apart from the surrounding monotone grey.
Lana smiles to herself; she’s glad something, at least, hasn’t changed.
She tries the door, and it opens, quite surprisingly. The lounge is dark - there is an empty desk and a chair there, does Mia have an understudy already? - but a slip of light slithers from the ajar door leading to what Lana presume is Mia’s office. She makes a mental note to tell Mia off; with the recent increase of criminality, staying behind late to work, all alone with the office door open, is far too dangerous.
At the door, she hesitates. She can’t even begin to fathom the reason she has so automatically seeked Mia at the first chance she got, let alone know what to say when finally face to face. Lana was the one who broke up with Mia to follow her path as a prosecutor, she was the one who willingly drifted away from Mia’s life. She has no right to come and bother her again after so much time.
Her lips still tingle deliciously as she recalls the kiss in the auditorium, the memory vivid and burning as ever.
But, as always, Mia is the brave one, the one who takes action.
“Phoenix?” she calls for who Lana assumes is her understudy’s name - such a peculiar name indeed - and stands up from her desk chair to reach the office door. “I told you to go home, really, I can manage by myself- oh!”
Lana sees the many emotions flitting through Mia’s expressive features: shock, embarrassment, anger, disappointment… and then she settles for a polite, if not a little tired, smile. “Well, if it isn’t a surprise. I wasn’t expecting a visit from you, Chief Prosecutor Skye.”
She’s not the only one, Lana thinks bitterly. She lets her eyes flutter close, stands a little straighter. “I will leave if you find my presence bothersome.”
There is a rather awkward, charged moment of silence, in which Lana is half sure Mia is going to actually boot her out of her office, but then Mia’s clever eyes soften, her smile grows warmer. It’s far from the blazing flame it used to be, but in Lana’s world, cold and cruel and full of deceit, it feels like she’s staring right at the sun.
“Of course I don’t, silly. Here, come in,” Mia steps aside to let Lana pass. Lana enters the office - surprisingly modest, but clean and efficient - and sits at the opposite chair. Her eyes land on the half finished cup of tea resting on the desk, just beside Mia’s unfinished paperwork. “Want something to drink? I have some green tea. A treasured gift from my ever so lovely aunt.”
The sarcasm is obvious, and is not lost on Lana, who is already aware of the rocky relationship Mia shares with her aunt - and her terrifyingly bitter tea.
“No, thanks. Although I do admit I’m a little surprised, I would have sworn you were more of a coffee type.”
Lana instantly regrets it; Mia freezes solid, her eyes go wide and dark and full of grief and despair she never thought Mia, the ever determined and optimistic Mia Fey, would ever be capable of. When Mia smiles again and sits down at her chair, she looks older and more tired than ever.
“Yeah I… changed my mind. Too bitter for me.”
Lana has the uncanny feeling she’s not the only one who has changed.
“So,” Mia continues, her eyes constantly flitting between Lana and the abandoned mug of tea, “Is there a particular reason you’ve come here?”
No, there isn’t. There was hardly any logical thought put in the process of walking all the way from here. Her feet just carried her to Mia on their own accord.
“No. I just… wished to see how you’ve been faring. It’s a nice office. You were unusually quick to establish a firm on your own.”
It’s meant to be a compliment, as cold and stilted it is, but Mia flinches as though Lana’s words burned her. “Ah, yes, thank you. I… couldn’t stay to Grossberg any longer, so I hurried to find a place for myself. It’s still new and cases are few and far inbetween, but we’re managing just fine.”
Lana assumes the ‘we’ she’s talking about is her understudy. “Do you have an assistant?”
Mia smiles again, and this time is warmer, more genuine, brimming with pride. Lana has seen that look on Mia’s face whenever she talked about her little sister, Maya; for her to show such fondness, there must be a rather deep bond between master and pupil.
“Yes, he’s just about to take the Bar exam. I believe he will be ready in just one more year.”
“Do you think he has what it takes to pass the Bar at the first try?”
There is no trace of uncertainty or doubt in the smoldering gaze Mia levels on her, in the mildly coy smirk dancing on her full lips. “Definitely. You and your office would do well to brace yourself in the near future. Even that glorified newbie Edgeworth will not stand a chance.”
It’s a challenge, playful, between friends. Lana can’t just ignore it.
How strange, it’s almost like they’re students again, reenacting cases they’ve been assigned to study as defense and prosecution, to better understand the proceeding and widen their point of view. Lana finds herself smirking back. She’s surprised she even remembers how to smile.
“Edgeworth is hardly a newbie, Mia, I can assure you. But you’re right, we’ll see how it turns out. I will be waiting for the result; what is your assistant’s name?”
“Phoenix Wright.”
Lana arches an eyebrow, and Mia scoffs playfully. “It’s not my fault his parents have a ridiculous naming sense, nor his.”
“True,” Lana concedes, “but it does set a rather high standard. I wonder if he’s up to live up to the legacy of his namesake.”
And yours.
Mia laughs, and for a moment the optimistic, fiery girl Lana has long been infatuated with shines again, filters through the heavy mask made of caked makeup and way too many nights spent poring over files in her office, with only a chipped mug to keep her company.
“Oh, trust me, we’re going to blow your mind.”
Lana doesn’t see Mia again. She only hears about her, first as a brilliant attorney and then, on a tragic September 6th, as the victim name on an autopsy report.
Killed late in the evening, in her own office, alone. Her brilliant head caved in with a heavy blunt object, in a single blow. Lana had told her, she had warned her-
She doesn’t cry on the report; she just slumps in her chair, the information she has just learned of slowly sinking in.
She’s cold, now that the last flame casting some sort of light in her life has been so crudely extinguished. So, so cold. Her heart freezes over, a thick shell of ice coats it protectively, the only glue that keeps it together, fills the deep cracks that run through its shattered surface, too deep to be mended.
Gant himself tells her the defendant, Mia’s own little sister, is guilty, and so she will be found by the court. He is the one to order her to assign the case to ‘Worthy’, to make sure Maya Fey receives her due punishment.
The older sister in Lana cries and protests, for there is no reasonable way Maya Fey would ever hurt Mia, who has given up everything for her sake, and eventually died for her. Finding Maya guilty would be like spitting on Mia’s still in the making grave.
But Ema is still in Gant’s hands, and he knows it as much as she does. For Ema’s sake, Maya will be sacrificed.
For the umpteenth time, Lana is nothing but a disappointment to Mia.
“Very well. It will be done by the end of the week.”
(Edgeworth loses to the outlandish newbie Phoenix Wright, Maya is saved, the truth is revealed and Lana owes Mia a hundred dollars. She’s never been more glad to be on the losing side of a bet.)
Lana thought she’d never see Mia Fey ever again.
She was horribly wrong.
Mia Fey is still as alive and burning as ever, living in the blazing, mismatched eyes of a young man wearing a cheap blue suit and his heart on his sleeve. The shape is different, the voice is deeper, but those eyes burn of the same flame Mia’s used to and Lana can’t stand the sight as Phoenix Wright keeps coming back again and again and again, no matter how Lana pushes him away.
She hates it. She hates him, who has taken up Mia’s mantle so readily and easily, and wears it so well.
She hates him, she tells herself angrily as, on the other side of the bulletproof glass, he keeps shoving the truth in her face, and she’s forced to look away, lest she gets burned from his sheer intensity. She hates him for being Mia in nearly every sense, and at the same time he’s not.
And when it’s over and the weight of the world is lifted from her tired shoulders and she can breathe, she catches Edgeworth eyeing surreptitiously the celebrating attorney from the other side of the Defense Lobby. She walks over to him, places her hand on his arm. He’s stiff as a board.
“Don’t let go of him.”
(When, a few months later, she comes to know Prosecutor Edgeworth chose death, she wonders how many times the same story will repeat itself before the curse is lifted.)