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It's Christmas Day and Phoenix is nursing a glass of wine, watching Pearl watch Trucy, who herself is watching Apollo sit with his fingers curled around a forgotten bottle of beer, looking at Athena like he'd like to kiss her as she carries on seemingly oblivious, telling an animated story. They're sitting closer together than you do with a coworker, even a friendly one, and maybe he should've seen that one coming. They're young, passionate professionals with the same core values, both nice looking enough kids, he thinks, and Apollo in particular comes to love people fiercely and fast, regardless of the object of his affections' reciprocation. Phoenix knows that firsthand, and can't help feeling badly for it.
He thinks Athena must know; how could she not, when even Phoenix can hear the anxious warmth in Apollo's voice when he talks to her, when Apollo's nervous tics are so pronounced? It must be why she's carrying on so frenetically, nervous herself, but Phoenix thinks Trucy is quite close to getting her much demanded new sister or brother. He hopes she won't be disappointed that it's someone she's already declared part of their family.
They're all terrible at letting people in, all but Trucy, and all with their own reasons for it. Athena had her world torn apart and her course set for a bloody-minded quest at an age when most girls weren't even thinking about makeup yet. Apollo had lived most of his life alone, starved for touch and genuine affection, and then lost the one prior constant in his life in a violent, traumatic affair. Pearl was one of the last scions of a legacy of murder and betrayal, raised apart from society as long as her mother had been able to see to it, used as an unwitting pawn. Phoenix's own reasons for reservation seem to pale in comparison, especially when he sees Trucy who has as much reason as any of them to be distrustful, still bright and adaptable, loving with zeal. It's in the way she'd insisted Apollo was part of their family now even before she'd known the truth, wearing him down until he'd believed her. She'd done the same to Phoenix once, ten years ago, and probably saved him from a much darker path than the one he'd walked.
And yet here they all are, and even if Trucy had been the catalyst for their bond they'd built up plenty of ties of their own between them. Trucy has never failed to make his heart swell. Watching Pearl grow, in and out of his life but still a constant, coming back like a boomerang and more like Mia and Maya each time he sees her but with her own innate softness, makes him feel something not so different. She might be the kindest person he knows, lacking Trucy's rare sharp edges, and she still believes in the goodness of people. Not in the way Phoenix, Athena, and Apollo have to, with a grim professional certainty, just at her core. Pearl Fey is not quite a daughter to him, just as Maya is not quite a sister or a lover but could nearly be either, if not for her obligations, but there's a worn down place in his heart where they both fit, a comfortable weight in his chest, and so they too have a place in the wild patchwork of his family.
He'd tried to keep Apollo at arm's length. He hadn't known, not really, about the way the kid idolized him. Gavin had told him but in his mind no one but Trucy had truly thought well of him in years; it had been a thinly veiled barb. But he'd needed a pawn and a voice in court, and evil bastard though he was, any apprentice of Kristoph's was bound to be competent and malleable enough to serve. He hadn't expected such raw fire tempered with such unexpected sweetness; he hadn't expected the way the kid held on, demanding to be noticed and looking at him with his daughter's hopeful eyes. He hadn't expected him to be quite so damned efficient, or the way Trucy took to him as if their shared blood called to each other.
Most of all he hadn't expected the lump in his throat or the sharp spike of paternal pride in his palms and belly when Apollo told him, a few days after the Misham affair, that he was sorry to have ever doubted him and that Phoenix had made him a better lawyer and a better man. Still, Apollo offered in his defence, given the circumstances we met under and the fact that you still insist on looking like a transient... Phoenix had interrupted him with an embrace that left the kid's face flaming and his eyes lit up, the look in them all Phoenix had needed to realize that yes, Trucy was right, Apollo had wormed his way under their skin unwitting and become part of them.
He still remembers the day he'd overheard Ema and Gavin the younger in a rare show of unity, shortly after the fraught, tense ordeal of revealing Trucy and Apollo's shared parentage. Klavier had made the mistake of calling Phoenix “your father,” to Apollo's quick denial. Ema took up the cause, insisting that yeah, actually, Mr. Wright is pretty much your dad especially in light of this Trucy thing, don't you think you should call him something else? Phoenix had come in from the other room, startling all three of them, and passed Apollo a packet of paperwork. He couldn't help it. He told the kid to go do his homework. His friends smirking at him, Apollo had muttered a curse under his breath and stomped out of the room, insisting once more, “You're not my dad.” All right, then, have it your way, Polly.
Athena still hasn't stopped calling him “Boss,” and she probably never will, but it's clearly an endearment, not a nervous formality. She's a force of nature in her own right, her drive a wildfire to make Apollo's seem like a torch. She's brilliant – certifiably a genius, he's sure – and manic and Phoenix is sure there's a nugget of truth to the notion that people who need counselling themselves are drawn to psychology. It's not her fault. Phoenix knows he couldn't have achieved half what she has even by the time he'd passed the bar, let alone by seventeen, if he'd been through what she has. She took to Trucy from the moment they met, and truth be told the combination of the girls can be terrifying. Phoenix tries – and often fails – to direct their boundless energy to something constructive, or at least towards Apollo rather than himself.
Athena's the strongest person he knows, literally and figuratively. When they'd met she'd crashed into him, just after clearing a ten foot fence in an instant. She was running to an exam, where she wouldn't be let in late, but she'd still stopped to apologize frantically first in French, then in Spanish, then finally in English after he spoke. Phoenix had been frazzled by the girl at the time, but also intrigued, and asked after her professor. As it happened she was a close associate of Phoenix's at the time, close enough that he was sure he could give Athena the chance to resit the exam if he spun a good enough yarn. Athena would never tell him why she'd been going to be late, and he's stopped asking.
They got coffee while they waited for the exam to let out – Phoenix was careful not to play the creepy old man, at least he hopes he was, he had no untoward intentions, but he couldn't deny he found her fascinating. She'd been born in California and so far studied in four countries, was fluent in an unfathomable number of languages, and was set to receive her badge very shortly at the age of 17, alongside a degree in analytical psychology. On top of that, as he'd seen, she was in alarmingly good physical shape and knew her way around computers and robots like that was her job, too. Athena is probably better than any of them, just objectively, but she looks up to him, even looks up to Apollo. It's humbling. Athena drives them all, keeps them hoping when everything seems lost, and Phoenix tries to make sure she knows they care about her, that she has as much place with them as anyone else, never mind shared history or blood.
He's a little drunk and maybe it's made him overly sentimental, so he tries to be subtle when he glances to the wall riddled with pictures in the living room, even though they're all wrapped up in Athena's rambling tale. The oldest is of he, Larry, and Miles outside their primary school. Phoenix is grinning with childish abandon, Larry is making a face, and Miles is making a face because Larry is making a face. The next oldest is of Apollo, actually, a picture Trucy asked him for so she could see if they'd looked alike. They had. Apollo is still small, had been even smaller as a skinny kid, all knees and elbows and Trucy's eyes set in what had, before they'd each hit puberty, been Trucy's face. The picture of Trucy beside it could almost be the same kid, except that Trucy wore her pink magician's garb and Apollo wore jeans and a t-shirt – already red. Their fathers were had not left much of themselves in their children.
There's another of Pearls and Maya at Gatewater Land, posing with one of those godforsaken Badgers or another. They're so happy in it that Phoenix can barely remember his exasperation at being forced to hunt down all four of them. Then Trucy and Pearl at Trucy's elementary school graduation, one of Miles and Gumshoe in a restaurant – really, does he not have any pictures of Miles smiling? – Apollo reacting in dramatic fashion to Trucy kissing his cheek at the beach two years ago, Athena after her first win in court without Phoenix or Apollo beside her... There really are a panoply of memories on this wall. The most recent is only a few weeks old. It's of Phoenix himself, Trucy, Apollo, Athena, and Pearl, taken with a timer. He'd got back to the office on his birthday after a particularly long day to find the place riddled with balloons, Apollo at the stove cooking, Athena chopping vegetables at the counter, and a cake of Trucy and Pearl's making on the table. They're all crammed onto one old red couch, and they all look... happy, yes, but more than that relaxed and comfortable, like they're all where they belong. Athena just gave it to him for Christmas this morning in a frame she'd painted to read: “The Wright Anything Agency.”
He'd never have imagined it, not even a year ago. Christmas last year was subdued, to put it mildly, though Phoenix had made the effort to invite everyone over and Apollo and Athena had gone through the motions of cooking a meal, skirting around each other nervously. Pearl would usually have come - Maya was always held back for an annual ceremony. He hadn't not invited her but he'd explained that it had been a rough week and they might not be much fun, she might just want to stay with Maya. Trucy had tried to compensate for everyone else's exhaustion and hurt, the primary light of his life as always, but there hadn't been time to have gifts to exchange other than the little bits of personalized handmade kitsch Trucy made each of them and the gift certificates they'd all gotten her for the magic supply shop.
Everything's healed cleanly since the nightmare that was the last holiday season. Trucy's grown taller – she might just barely wind up taller than Apollo, as she's fond of reminding him – and doing well in school; she's added a handful of new tricks to her show.
Apollo seems to be getting calmer all the time, a little better with physical affection. He's coming into his own just as Athena is. Now that they're comfortable around one another again, he's a better mentor to Athena than Phoenix himself once was to Apollo, and it shames him, a little. Athena's started therapy and grown more confident, marginally less flighty. He's heard nothing of her falling victim to any further panic attacks. She seems to take great comfort in her newly reforged association with Prosecutor Blackquill, but Phoenix has seen the way she looks at Apollo when she thinks no one's looking. He'd give them a push – if ever two people deserved some unvarnished happiness in their lives, it was them – but he's almost sure it will happen organically.
Pearl got leave to attend college and lived in a dorm not too far away. He'd have taken her in himself, but with the office busier than before, Phoenix, Trucy, and Apollo were nearly living on top of each other, only peaceful by grace of their comfort with one another. Maya said it was fine, it would do her good; that it wouldn't do for Kurain to be so insular anymore.
He's heard Trucy and Pearl whispering about how they might move out together next year when Trucy starts art school. He's seen them sharing quick, private kisses that he hasn't worked up the nerve to ask her about, though all he'd need to do is tell her it was fine, be safe, and so forth. He's heard Apollo insisting, you have to tell your dad, he won't care, but he deserves to know. They have their reasons, he's sure – the secret is probably exciting to them, is all. He was a teenager once, knows the thrill of furtive kisses. He's heard Apollo admit to more than one secret dalliance with Clay and Athena confess to a whirlwind affair of her own, in Spain. They're well enough matched and he knows they care about each other. He just hopes it can end cleanly if it winds up ending.
It's all making him feel very old, though, and looking at Athena and Apollo, who are now staring at each other, Trucy clearly on the verge of yelling, “Just kiss, already,” it occurs to him for the first time that he's going to wind up here alone. Trucy will be off with Pearl, starting the grand adventure of her life. He can't begrudge her that.
Apollo will end up moving into Athena's. They'll get married and have very short, very loud, scarily intelligent, perceptive children, and he'll be... an uncle, probably, a godparent, Christ, a makeshift grandparent by the time he's forty, part of their lives but not, anymore. It's... a little scary, frankly. He hasn't lived alone since he lived in an apartment just after passing the bar, before he'd begun converting a chunk of Mia's old office space into an apartment. There were blocks of a few months, when Maya was in Kurain, but they were always interspersed with Larry begging a bed, having been kicked out of his new belle's place, Miles staying when he visited even though all he did was bitch about not being in one of his insufferable four star hotels. He doesn't regret not having sought romantic love – his life is full of his kids and his practice. He's always taken the philosophical approach that if someone comes along, then good, and if not, it doesn't matter. He and his band of misfits are a package deal, really, and that's not so easy to deal with.
Trucy breaks him from his reverie, asking, “What's wrong, Daddy?”
Phoenix has to fight the thickness in his throat to croak, “Oh, nothing.” He summons every ounce of humour available to him to bolster his voice when he adds, “Kids grow up fast when you're an old man like me, that's all.”
Athena's attention is torn from Apollo in a heartbeat, looking worried. Apollo glances over at him and his hand makes its way to his wrist without the least trace of subtlety. Trucy's staring at him less intently than Apollo, but with the same sharp edge to her gaze. Pearls has a certain preternatural sensibility of her own, and it's clear she's gaining too much from taking him in, as well. He should have known. Eyes and ears, all of them.
Athena, naturally, is the one who breaks the silence. “Aw, Boss,” she blurts, crossing the room in an instant. She hugs him unselfconsciously, enveloping him in the familiar scent of her green tea perfume, a hint of Apollo's cologne alongside it, the stuff Trucy has taken to getting him every year on his birthday. Phoenix gets Apollo and Athena both ties for any special occasion, pink ones, green ones, anything but light blue. They've yet to wear a single one of them, but it's a kind of running joke, now. Athena lets him go with a last squeeze. “Who knew you were so sentimental?” She's teasing him, but there's a softness to it.
Apollo's smirking at him but there's a gentleness in his eyes to match the quality in Athena's voice. “Jeez, Nick, when'd you get to be such a lightweight?”
“Polly,” Trucy rebukes, and he bows his head, the picture of contrition.
“It was a joke,” he clarifies, “really. I've seen you drunk. Once. That time you went out with Larry. You're not drunk. But you're... what's on your mind?”
The tightness in his chest has passed, thank god, and he gropes for a way to explain himself that's not unforgivably trite. “Just thinking... I just realized we might not have too many more holidays together like this, that's all.”
Trucy situates herself on his lap, like she's eight all over again. He's tried to explain she's gotten too old for these things, but this time he just slides his arms around her. “What makes you say that?”
“Time changes things, that's all. You and Polly can't live in this office forever, after all.”
“No,” Pearl agrees, sounding guilty, like maybe she knows Phoenix has overheard her conversations with Trucy. It wouldn't surprise him. “They probably can't. But I don't think they'll ever go very far.”
“Who else am I going to have Christmas dinner with? Prosecutor Gavin?” Apollo shivers at the notion. “The man has black and purple Christmas trees.”
“Trucy's going to need a proper agent, when she's got more time to dedicate to her shows. They'll need you in Kurain someday, Pearls. And you two,” he indicates Apollo and Athena with a tip of his head, “are going to want your own practices some day.”
“Boss,” Athena starts, incredulous. “We work for Phoenix Wright. You can't actually not know what that means. If you were going to take a new associate they'd be lined up around the block. Apollo's probably made enough of a name for himself to strike out, yeah, but...”
“But why would I? I mean, sure, I could do with a little more equability when it comes to toilet and Charley duties, but Athena's right, Nick. We're not getting any better offers. As weird as this place is, there are no better offers to have. People don't come here looking for me.”
“Daddy,” Trucy said, aghast. “You don't think we're going to leave you?”
“We would never,” Pearl adds urgently.
“After what you did for me? Come on, Boss, don't be silly.”
“Again, I point you to my glaring lack of any other family and my complete unwillingness to succumb to Klavier's flirtation.”
Phoenix chokes out a laugh at that last bit, already feeling a little ridiculous. “I guess I just thought... Well, like you said, Polly, I haven't exactly got a whole lot of other family.”
“You've got plenty, Daddy,” Trucy argues. “We're not even all here. Uncle Miles and Auntie Maya, Larry, uhm... Well, you have lots of other friends. If you're that worried, maybe it's finally time to find me a new mom.”
“All in good time, Truce,” Phoenix deflects, laughing.
“So tell me,” Apollo ventures, moving to join the semi-circle they've all formed around Phoenix, “can I also look forward to bouts of unexplained melancholy ten years from now? Some sort of male menopause? Because it would be better if that was just you.”
“Shut up, kid,” Phoenix grunts, but he reaches out to muss Apollo's hair, ignoring the protest as he leaves one shellacked spike bent.
“Moment of panic averted?” Athena asks, her tone carefully neutral.
Phoenix sighs. “Yeah. Guess I was having an episode.”
“An episode? Oh no!” Pearl cries, and Phoenix is about to explain that it's not so bad as all that when she adds, “The new Steel Samurai special starts in five minutes! Oh, and Apollo's weird time travel show, after that.”
“Thanks,” Apollo says dryly.
They all try and cram in on the couch, but it's not comfortable enough for anything more long term than taking a picture, and Apollo winds up sitting at Athena's feet. Phoenix can tell he's barely watching the show for the distraction of Athena's fingertips at his hairline and has to resist the urge to remind him that the condoms are in the top shelf of the bathroom cupboard, where they've been – thankfully untouched – since Trucy turned 15. They've got good heads on their shoulders and Apollo has blushed his way through Phoenix informing him of the supply before, no matter how much fun it would be to embarrass them.
Trucy and Pearl's fingers tangle together about fifteen minutes into “Apollo's weird time travel show,” and Phoenix finds he doesn't mind. It's kind of odd if he dwells on it, four people he's come to think loosely of as “his kids” pairing off together, but they're not family in the traditional sense, whatever they are to each other, and so all he can hope for is that they'll be happy.
It's strange and it's broken, the five of them bound together because they don't have anyone else, but it works. Phoenix can't ask for anything more.