Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

May 21st, 7:00 PM

Blackquill & Cykes Residence

Simon Blackquill was well aware of how he came across.

He knew he was intimidating. The combination of his height, stature, and scars made sure of that, not to mention his mostly-black signature look. He knew that people saw him, heard “ex-con” or “murderer”, and decided to steer clear. Most of the time, he leaned into that persona. He couldn’t care less if strangers were afraid of him; it meant no one messed with him, and it was a useful tool for getting uncooperative witnesses to talk.

It did not, however, make him very good roommate material.

Simon had known going in that finding someone willing to share a home with him wasn’t going to be an easy process. He’d been incredibly lucky the past few years, having Athena as a roommate. Sure, she was a bit messy and had a tendency to leave dirty dishes in the sink, but she was kind and considerate and knew Simon well enough to coexist with him peacefully. They made it work.

Like all good things, though, it had come to an end. Athena was moving in with her very sweet, very loving girlfriend Juniper, and Simon couldn’t find it in his heart to be mad about it. He knew Juniper made Athena ridiculously happy, and Athena spent so much time with her already that it didn’t make sense for them to both be paying rent on separate places. He understood, really.

All that being said, though, Simon still felt like he got the short end of the stick. Finding a new roommate was a daunting task. At first, he considered moving instead; finding a smaller, cheaper place and simply living alone. But he really had come to love the apartment he and Athena shared, and he’d spent many weekends modifying it to be more hawk-friendly. Plus, he doubted he’d be able to find another landlord as willing to rent to an ex-con with a hawk.

The only issue was that Simon simply couldn’t afford the place alone. So, if he wanted to stay, he needed to find a roommate.

Easier said than done.

Simon had posted ads on a couple different websites, including pictures and a very blunt description of his situation. He’s Simon, he’s in his early 30’s, he spent 7 years behind bars for a murder he didn’t commit, and he’s looking for a roommate. Nice and simple.

He hadn’t really expected many responses from the ads. To his surprise, though, there were actually a number of people out there who didn’t discount him immediately for being an ex-con. He’d exchanged messages with a few, and even met some in person to give them a tour of the place. He made an effort to tone down the “Twisted Samurai” persona a bit and they’d seemed friendly. A few of them had seemed really promising.

Right up until they met Taka.

Or rather, when Taka met them. They’d be in the apartment, admiring the large windows and modern appliances when Taka would launch herself off her perch, sharp claws poised to strike and cawing at the top of her lungs.  Simon was quick to calm her, but she was fast, and more often than not, she got a few good scratches in.

Over his first aid kit and with a sincere apology, he explained that she was normally much more docile, that she just didn’t like strangers. Unfortunately, no one believed him. Taka had a talent for instilling fear in people, which was usually one of Simon’s favorite tools for uncooperative witnesses, but wasn’t the sort of talent that made her a very endearing companion. They would make up other excuses to say no, but he knew that Taka’s angry squawks and sharp talons were the real issue. Simon couldn’t exactly blame them. They probably thought he was completely nuts for giving a wild animal access to his home.

Groaning, Simon fell back onto his bed, having just shown Taka’s latest victim out the front door. He turned his head, eyeing Taka where she perched innocently by the open window of his room.

“You’re impossible, you know that?” he said.

Taka chirped back in response, tilting her head to one side.

Simon glared for a moment, then gave in and reached out to scratch under her chin.

“Must you always be so particular?” he asked. “We’ve all got to make compromises sometimes, you know.”

Taka chirped indignantly. Abruptly, she turned tail and hopped off the window ledge, moving away from Simon. Her large wings spreading gracefully as she took to the skies.

“Not one for compromises, then. Ungrateful beast.” he said, now to himself.

Simon sighed loudly, bringing his hand up to press his palms against his eyes. That was the third candidate that Taka had scared away, and the last one that seemed genuinely interested. He could repost the ad, he supposed, but he doubted he’d get any more responses. He wondered absently if there was such a thing as Craigslist for bird whisperers.

“I’m sensing the tour didn’t go so well?”

Simon scowled, not moving to uncover his eyes. “No, the rage and frustration in my heart is because it went perfectly.”

Athena let out a snort. “Knowing you, I wouldn’t be that surprised. I know you’re not exactly keen to move in with a stranger.”

“I’ll live.” Simon said, dryly. He bit back a sharp comment about who exactly was leaving him in this situation— he knew it wasn’t Athena’s fault, not really, and he didn’t want to make her feel guilty over it. After all, he was the insufferable roommate; he was sure if the situations were reversed, Athena would have no problem finding a new person to live with.

Simon felt the mattress dip next to him as Athena took a seat. He lifted his palms slightly, glowering at her sideways. Unfortunately, the look lost most of its vitriol when delivered lying down.

“Ah, don’t give me that look, Simon. You’ll figure it out. Tell me, what went wrong this time?”

“The same thing that went wrong the first two times.” Simon grumbled. “Taka got territorial and tried to claw them to shreds.”

“Again?” Athena asked, a modicum of surprise coloring her tone. “I know she doesn’t like new people, but she doesn’t usually attack without provocation, does she?”

Simon shrugged. “No, but they didn’t do anything. I was there the whole time. Taka just lost it as soon as she noticed they were there.”

“Maybe she’s secretly learned to understand human speech and knows they were coming to replace her most favorite roomie.” Athena said, flashing Simon a peace sign with a grin.

“Unlikely. I am of the opinion that living with your obnoxiously bright presence has finally pushed her into waging war against the human race.”

Athen gasped. “Taka would never! She likes my bright colors, thank you very much.”

“No, she likes them when she thinks they’re food. She hates them once she learns otherwise.”

“Never! Her bird heart is overflowing with affection for me.” Athena declared.

Simon was silent for a moment, processing her words. He frowned.

“You can’t actually hear…”

Athena guffawed, leaning back onto the comforter as she slapped her knee. “No, but you were considering it, weren’t you! You really think I’d ever stop talking about it if I could commune with animal emotions?”

Simon rolled his eyes. “Fair point. Shame on you for pulling nasty tricks on your elders, though.”

Athena reached over to swat his upper arm lightly. “You’re barely thirty, Simon. You can’t play that card just yet.”

“Tell that to my aching bones.” Simon replied. “I’m a senior citizen at heart.”

“Oh, perfect, I’ll just cart you off to a nursing home, then.”

“I’d like to see you try. The orderlies would not make it out of here alive. Senior status has not dulled the biting edge of my blade.” he intoned.

“Aw, don’t worry about that, Simon! I’m sure they’ll have plenty of nice enrichment activities for you. You can tell all the other history buffs about your weird Japanese sword collection!”

“Bah! I’d rather die by my own hand than hold conversation with old American history buffs. Bloody bald eagle lovers.”

Athena snorted. “Maybe one of them could be friends with Taka.”

“Taka would not deign to lower herself to such a level.” Simon replied.

“Sure, sure. So, new ad idea: Bariatric old man, yet to outgrew his emo phase, seeking roommate; American history lovers and bald eagle aficionados encouraged to apply.” Athena said, pulling up Widget’s interface to feign typing out the listing.

“Fine. Lure them into my trap. Taka will peck their eyes out and no one will ever have to know.”

“This attitude is exactly why you can’t find a new roommate.”

“And here I thought the problem was my bright and enthusiastic personality.” Simon shot her a saccharine smile.

Athena let out a bark of laughter as she stood up from the bed, arms stretched out above her. “You just keep on thinking that, sunshine.” She walked to the doorway, pausing briefly with one hand against the frame. “Seriously, though. You’ll find someone.” she said confidently. “I can’t be the only one that sees the good in you.”

Simon was suddenly very grateful that his hands were still over his face so she couldn’t see the small yet genuine smile her comment elicited.

Athena laughed. “Covering your face doesn’t cover your heart, dumbass.”

Ah. Right. Simon scowled.

“Where’d you put those old emotion-blocking headphones? I’d like to super glue them to your ears.”

“Gonna pass on that one.” Athena said, still giggling. “It’s too much fun to mess with you.”

With that, she marched her way out of the room, an enthusiastic “Junie!” rebounding down the hall a few moments later. Her girlfriend must have just arrived.

Allowing himself one final sigh, Simon dragged himself up and off of the bed. He suspected Juniper and Athena might be looking for some… alone time, and he was not keen to overhear it. Besides, he had work to get back to. Grabbing his wallet and keys, Simon made his way down the hall, nodding silently in Juniper’s direction in greeting. Work would be good for him; he needed something else to focus on right now.

As he exited the apartment, he wondered vaguely if Chief Prosecutor Edgeworth would let him move in to the prosecutor’s office.

May 21 ^st, 7:00 PM

Justice & Gavin Residence

“Is the toilet in the kitchen?”

Across the counter, Apollo raised an eyebrow. “Show me?”

Nahyuta spun his laptop around so the screen faced Apollo.

“Who do they think will pay thousands of dollars a month to live in an apartment that?”

Apollo hummed, glancing over at the offending online listing. “You’d be surprised. And it’s not really in the kitchen, there’s a dividing wall.”

“Hardly.” Nahyuta wrinkled his nose. “I will not prepare meals next to a toilet.”

“So that’s a no, then.”

“That’s a no.”

Apollo sighed, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the counter.

“Look, Nahyuta, unless you want to pay through the nose, you’re going to have to make some compromises. Rent in LA is ridiculously high. If you want to live alone, you’re either going to have really high rent or a kinda shitty place.”

Nahyuta let out a groan. He pulled the laptop back across the counter, closing it in one deft motion.

“Your country is completely ridiculous.”

“I’m aware.” Apollo said with a small smile. “You’re welcome to stay with me and Klav until you find a place, you know.”

“I know.” Nahyuta said, reaching to fiddle with the end of his braid. “You’ve been very kind. But I fear I’ve already overstayed my welcome.”

Apollo opened his mouth to protest, but Nahyuta plowed on.

“It’s true, Apollo, you can say it. I know I’m not an easy roommate. That’s why I’m trying to live alone in the first place.”

Apollo looked away. “You’re not that bad.”

Nahyuta rolled his eyes. “The evidence suggests otherwise.”

“Okay, that guy that kicked you out doesn’t count. He was just an asshole. And racist.”

Nahyuta snorted.

“I mean it!” Apollo insisted, leaning forward. “It’s not your fault he thought your prayer routines were demonic possession because he’s never bothered to learn a thing about another culture in his life!”

“…I did sort of strangle him with the prayer beads that one time.”

Apollo gave him a look. “Alright, so that was probably a bad move, but come on! He complained about the smell of your food, that’s like, Racist White People 101.”

Nahyuta hummed. “That is fair.”

“Anyways,” Apollo continued, “I know it’s a bit crowded with three people here, but it’s fine! You’re my brother, Nahyuta, I’m hardly going to kick you out to the curb. And you’ve been trying really hard to find a place. I know you aren’t taking things for granted.”

Nahyuta gave him a small smile. “You are very kind, Apollo.”

“It’s just basic decency.”

“Even so. I do appreciate it.” Nahyuta said. “I… suppose I will consider looking for a better roommate. I’m fairly sure I’ve looked at every one bedroom and studio apartment in the city at this point and all of them are either too expensive, unlivable, or both. I’m starting to think that sharing might be my best option.”

Apollo nodded. “Makes sense. We’ll find you something.”

Nahyuta sighed. “I certainly hope so.”

“Hey, worst case scenario, you could always ask Chief Prosecutor Edgeworth for permission to  move in to the prosecutor’s office. You basically live there already.”

Nahyuta laughed. “I suspect that the entirety of the LA prosecutor’s office would not be the most pleasant set of roommates.”

“Hey, I hear the Paynes are very considerate.”

Nahyuta shuddered. “In the name of the Holy Mother, I would happily take the toilet kitchen over living with either of those men.”

“That’s fair.” Apollo said.

“The only benefit of them being my colleagues is that I never have to face them in court.” Nahyuta said. “There would be no benefit in living with them.”

Apollo laughed. “I do envy you for that.”

“On the topic of the prosecutor’s office, though, I really ought to get going.” Nahyuta said, standing up from his seat at the counter.

Apollo frowned. “It’s late, Nahyuta. I’d try to convince you get some sleep instead but… that’d be the pot calling the kettle black coming from me.”

“Indeed. It seems a tendency to over-work runs in the family.” Nahyuta mused as he retrieved his coat and scarf from the hook by the door. “I’ll see you later, Apollo.”

“Alright. Bye, Nahyuta.” Apollo replied, barely stifling a yawn.

“You should sleep.”

“Pot, kettle…” Apollo said, giving him a pointed look.

Nahyuta laughed lightly. “Of course. Well. Good luck with your own work, then. I assume you’ll be returning to it.”

“Sure will. Goodnight.”

Nahyuta smiled, rolling his eyes as he exited the apartment. He knew full well that no matter how late he came back, Apollo would almost certainly still be up working, as he had been every other time Nahyuta had returned late. Honestly, though, Nahyuta had to admit— it was nice to have someone to talk to when he came home.

Perhaps living with other people wasn’t so bad after all.

May 23 ^rd , 9:00 AM

Wright Anything Agency

“Athena, quick question.”

“What’s up?”

“You remember how Nahyuta’s original roommate kicked him out a month or so after he moved here?”

“Yeah, talk about a rude introduction to LA. Why do you ask?”

“Well, he’s been staying with me and Klavier since then and looking for his own place, but he’s having trouble finding a studio so he’s considering sharing again. I was wondering if you knew anyone who was looking? I thought maybe a friend of a friend might be better than a total stranger.”

“…Athena, why are you grinning at me like that?”

Chapter Text

May 23^rd , 6:00 PM

Blackquill & Cykes Residence

“Absolutely not.”

“But Simon!” Athena pleaded, “I think it could work really well for you! I mean, you do have the same ridiculous schedules, and he already knows your background. Oh, and Taka’s met him! And only attacked him when instructed, so that’s a plus.”

“I am not living with the Sad Monk.” Simon said, gritting his teeth. “Why would I want to spend time with someone who calls me nothing but insults and spews holier-than-thou religious mumbo jumbo all the time?”

“Hey, Apollo said he’s not really like that! It’s just a facade. Kinda like your Twisted Samurai bit.” Athena replied. “Besides, living together doesn’t mean you have to be friends. You know how they say some people make good friends but not roommates? I’d argue the inverse is also true.”

“I’d argue that some people don’t make good friends or good roommates.”

“C’mon Simon, you’re hardly in a position to be picky.” Athena said, bumping their shoulders together. “He’s not a bad person, not really! He apologized to me for how he acted during Bucky’s trial back when he first moved to LA, remember? You should give him a second chance!”

Simon crossed his arms over his chest. “I have no interest in giving him anything of the sort.”

Athena sighed. “Just think about it, all right? You could do a lot worse.”

Simon scowled. “I’m not that desperate.” 

May 30^th , 8:00 AM

Blackquill & Cykes Residence

“I’m that desperate.”

Athena glanced back over her shoulder, setting down the box she’d been carrying out of the kitchen.

“Come again?” she asked.

Simon sighed. “I said I’m that desperate. For a roommate, that is. You’re nearly moved out, rent’s due soon and I haven’t found any takers.”

A sly grin spread across Athena’s face.

“So you have been considering him.”

“I stand by what I said when you first proposed the idea last week. But… I concede that beggars can’t be choosers. Though the idea of begging that man for anything makes my skin crawl.”

Athena rolled her eyes. “It’s hardly begging. From what Apollo’s told me, he’s having just as much trouble finding a roommate. It’s mutually beneficial!”

“Whatever. I reserve the right to change my mind if Taka doesn’t like him, though. That’s a dealbreaker. I don’t trust him that much.”

Athena waved one hand dismissively. “Yeah, yeah, alright. The man’s practically Snow White. You’ve seen his little butterfly summoning trick. I’m sure Taka will get along with him just fine.”

“Tch. I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“Right. So, shall I ask Apollo when Nahyuta wants to come by to see the place?”

“Fine. But don’t expect me to like him.”

May 30^th , 2:00 PM

Justice & Gavin Residence

“You cannot be serious.”

Apollo held both hands up in surrender. “Hey, it wasn’t my idea. But you have to admit, it kinda makes sense.”

“Me, living with that blackguard? In what world does that make any sense?” Nahyuta shot back.

“I’m not saying you have to be best friends! But you’d at least know he’s a decent human being. That’s more than I can say for your other options.”

Nahyuta sighed, bringing his hands up to rub circles around his temples. He had hated all the other candidates he’d met thus far. One was an older guy that stood a little too close and leered at him; another was nice enough, but kept his apartment in a constant hazy cloud of weed smoke. The latest one had asked way too many personal questions and felt entitled to touch his braid without permission, all while asking what sort of shampoo he used to make it smell so nice.

“I… suppose he has always been respectful towards me at the office.”

Apollo nodded. “And his place is really nice! I’ve been there with Athena a few times. It gets a ton of natural light and it’s walking distance from the prosecutors office.”

Nahyuta considered for a moment, then groaned in defeat. “Fine. I suppose it couldn’t hurt to go see the place.”

“Great! Maybe Athena will finally get off my ass about getting you to come by.”

“I’m regretting this already.”

Chapter Text

May 31 ^st , 4:00 PM

Blackquill Residence

Nahyuta looked up at the apartment building, eyes running over the evenly spaced balconies and neat rows of windows. Begrudgingly, he admitted to himself that it was a nice place. The location was close to work but in a quieter neighborhood, some distance from any of the busier roads. The price, when split between two, was reasonable. If it wasn’t for the unfortunate roommate, Nahyuta would snap this place up in a heartbeat.

As it was, though, the nice apartment came with the condition of living with one incredibly insufferable man. Nahyuta took a deep breath. Simon, he reminded himself. Not reverse panda, as fitting as the nickname was. He was going to make an effort not to provoke him. He could handle this.

Glancing around, Nahyuta swiftly crossed the street and approached the apartment’s main door. He glanced over the hand-written labels on the intercom box, stopping when he found one with “Blackquill & Cykes” written in loopy handwriting, with a little smiley face at the end. Athena’s doing, surely.

He pressed the corresponding button, jumping slightly at the loud buzz that emitted from the speaker. He eyed the intercom’s camera awkwardly, unsure what to do. After a moment, a familiar voice crackled through the speaker.

“Sad Monk. Third floor, left from the elevator, end of the hall.” Then, a burst of static followed by a click. Succinct as always.

Next to him, the small light by the door flashed green. Nahyuta pushed it open, cautiously entering the building.

The door opened into a mail room, which was neatly kept with a few packages stacked in one corner. The mail room then led to a small lobby area, furnished warmly with dark wood and deep reds. Nahyuta passed the small cluster of armchairs, heading towards the elevator situated on the left hand side of the room.

He pressed the button, glancing around the area while he waited. There were a number of scuff marks on the floor, particularly near the elevator, and he noted a few discolored spots on the walls. Nevertheless, it was clean and generally well-kept. Nahyuta thought it seemed like a decent place.

The elevator was slow and a bit creaky, but it got Nahyuta to the third floor without incident. He stepped off, taking a left as instructed. The hallway was in similar shape to the lobby; Nahyuta noted the relative quiet. He couldn’t hear voice coming from any of the other units. Hopefully, this meant the walls were decently thick, and not that everyone was simply not home.

He reached the final door at the end of the hall and raised one hand to knock. He hesitated for a moment, suddenly nervous.

Ridiculous. It was only that silly noodle man. Nahyuta shook it off, took a deep breath, and gave the door three solid raps.

Simon answered almost immediately. He pulled the door open, giving Nahyuta a once-over. He’d worn the same thing he usually wore to court, not thinking much of it. Simon, though, was dressed down in a simple black t-shirt and loose black pants. His unruly hair was loose around his shoulders, and his feet were bare. Nahyuta barely recognized him.

“You better not be a shoes-in-the-house type or this isn’t going to work.” Simon said, scowling.

Ah, Nahyuta thought. There he is.

Nahyuta sniffed. “Of course not. I treat my home with the respect it deserves.”

Simon barked out a laugh. “I just don’t like dirt tracks on my carpet.”

Nahyuta shrugged. “Different reason, same outcome.”

Simon took a step back, gesturing for Nahyuta to enter with one arm.

“Come on in, then.”

Nahyuta nodded, slipping carefully past him into the apartment. He bent over to unlace his boots, tugging them off and setting them next to the small shoe rack that sat against the adjacent wall. Simon retreated to the opposite wall, leaning against it with his arms crossed over his chest.

Straightening up, Nahyuta looked around, taking in the apartment. Apollo hadn’t been lying about it being nice. It was a decent size with a relatively open floor plan. The front door connected to the living room, with the kitchen and a small dining area directly across from it. The walls featured large bay-style windows, and the late afternoon sun cast a warm orange glow about the place. The furniture was simple and clean, mostly in blacks, whites, and grays. There were a few things strewn about on the coffee and dining tables, but the floors were clear of clutter and the kitchen counters were spotless.

“It’s not always this clean.” Simon said gruffly. “I’m no slob, but Athena’s girlfriend insisted on cleaning everything before they left.”

Nahyuta nodded. “Alright.” he said, unsure what else to say.

After a beat of silence, Simon spoke again. “Athena’s old room is down here. It’s the larger of the two, but my room opens onto the balcony, so we figured a 50/50 split on rent was fair.”

Nahyuta nodded again, silently following Simon down the hallway.

“That’s the bathroom there. It’s pretty spacious but we only have the one.”

Nahyuta poked his head in, taking a brief look around. He noted similarly clean counters and a large bathtub. Much to his relief, the toilet was, in fact, located in the bathroom and not the kitchen.

As he stepped out of the bathroom, Nahyuta noticed that the door opposite it was ajar.

That must be Simon’s room, he thought, stifling the urge to take a peek. Curious as he was to what the man’s personal space looked like, he knew that that would be intrusive and rude, and he was trying not to provoke the man.

“Down here, Sad Monk. Did you manage to get lost walking down a ten foot hallway?” Simon said, raising one eyebrow as he leaned against the doorframe of what Nahyuta assumed to be the available room.

“Of course not. I was merely inspecting the bathroom.” Nahyuta said, expertly keeping the tinge of annoyance he felt out of his tone.

“It’s a bathroom.” Simon said, shrugging. “The plumbing works. What more do you need?”

Nahyuta opened his mouth to respond that he did, in fact, have higher standards than mere function, but thought better of it. Instead, he made his way down the hallway and brushed past Simon, entering the bedroom. As he passed, Simon almost imperceptibly leaned back so they wouldn’t touch.

Interesting.

Even unfurnished, Nahyuta could tell the room was quite nice. Athena had taken her furniture with her, but that was an easy to rectify; Nahyuta preferred to design his own space anyways. The room was spacious, with tasteful cream walls and two large windows located on adjacent walls.

This must be in the corner of the building, Nahyuta mused. He preferred natural light, and found the idea of a sunlit bedroom rather appealing. A few of the one-bedroom apartments he’d looked at were English basement style, with tiny little ground-level windows; he couldn’t fathom spending all his time under fluorescent bulbs.

Nahyuta walked over to one of the windows, taking in the view.

“This is lovely.” he said, absently.

Simon hummed in acknowledgement. “We were lucky to get this place. Athena defended the landlord’s son at some point, I think.”

Nahyuta glanced back over his shoulder, one eyebrow raised. “And he’s okay with renting it to two prosecutors?”

Simon shrugged. “I don’t think he’s my biggest fan, but he won’t kick us out. He’s not keen to piss Athena off.”

Nahyuta nodded, wondering if Athena was really the one he was trying to appease. “I see.”

“Anyways,” Simon said. “That’s pretty much all of it.”

He pushed off the wall, walking back towards the living area without another word. Nahyuta gave the room one last look before trailing behind him.

When they reached the living room, they were greeted by a loud screech and the whoosh of fluttering wings. Nahyuta just barely kept himself from flinching in surprise.

He’d been wondering when the hawk would show up. He schooled his features into a calm mask, feigning disinterest.

Taka came to rest on Simon’s shoulder, her piercing yellow eyes fixed on Nahyuta. He held her gaze steadily, but did not attempt to move any closer.

“Good evening, Taka.” he said evenly.

Taka squawked, tilting her head to one side. Simon looked back and forth between the two of them, his expression still neutral, but his darting eyes betrayed his apprehension.

Nahyuta held his ground, clasping his hands loosely in front of him.

“I assume she lives here, too?” he asked.

“She comes and goes.” Simon replied. “But she’s generally around when I am.”

From her perch on his shoulder, Taka chirped as if in agreement. Simon smiled faintly and reached up to scratch her gently under the chin.

Keeping his gaze on the hawk, Nahyuta took a slow step forward. When Taka didn’t react, he quietly made his way the rest of the way down the hall, coming to a halt a few feet away from Simon.

Taka kept quiet, but her beady eyes followed him as he moved. Once he came to a stop, though, she launched herself off Simon’s shoulder, headed straight for him.

Vaguely, Nahyuta registered Simon cursing loudly as he stepped swiftly backwards, attempting to get out of the hawk’s path. Taka, however, was far faster. She swooped past him, claws dangerously close to his face, beak snapping shut with a loud clack just beside his ear. Nahyuta closed his eyes, bracing himself for the incoming sting.

It never came. A moment later, when Nahyuta reopened his eyes, Taka was sitting calmly back on Simon’s arm, looking mighty pleased with herself. In her beak, she clutched Nahyuta’s scarf.

Simon was frowning, speaking to her in a low but forceful tone. Nahyuta reached up with one hand, running it over the untouched side of his neck. She hadn’t even scratched him.

“Does she often pilfer other people’s things?” Nahyuta asked, amusement coloring his voice.

Simon looked away from Taka, eyeing him cautiously.

“Sometimes.” he said, slowly. “She was probably attracted to the fluttering.”

“Ah, I see.” Nahyuta said. “Well, I’ll be sure not to wear those around the house then.”

Simon’s eyes narrowed.

“She’s not violent, generally, but I can’t guarantee she won’t scratch you on accident at some point.”

“That’s fine.” Nahyuta said. “My uncle once tried to keep a warbaa’d in our family home — do you know what those are?”

Simon nodded. Color Nahyuta impressed; he should have guessed the bird man would know about more than just hawks. Still, though; warbaa’ds were exceedingly rare.

“You’ll know, then, that they aren’t known to be particularly tame.” Nahyuta continued. “I’m no stranger to cohabiting with temperamental birds; I’ve still got the scars on my shoulder to prove it.”

“Oh,” Simon said, seeming surprised.

“What, did you think I lived my whole life sheltered in the royal palace?”

“I… did think that, actually.” Simon admitted.

Nahyuta laughed softly. “I only lived there as a very young child then later as an adult. Most of my childhood was spent with my father in either our home in the mountains or on the run in the Khura’inese wilderness.”

“Well. I would never have guessed.” Simon said honestly.

Nahyuta smiled. “That’s intentional. I learned rather quickly that the wild child image doesn’t lend itself very well to prosecution.”

“Yeah, I can’t see that going over well.” Simon mused.

“You’re hardly a stranger to creating a persona for the courtroom.” Nahyuta pointed out. “Did you think you were the only one?”

“Obviously not, Sad Monk,” Simon replied, scowling. “I just didn’t know you were one of them.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.” Nahyuta said quietly.

Simon looked back at him, eyes calculating.

“Well,” he said, “that kind of thing goes both ways, you know.”

Nahyuta nodded. The two men looked at each other in silence for a moment, each sizing the other up.

“Look,” Simon said, finally. “I’m not saying I like you. But you seem decent enough outside the courtroom and Taka doesn’t scare you, which is more than I can say for most people. And I really need to find a roommate soon. So if you want the room, it’s yours.”

Nahyuta blinked. “Wait, really?”

“Yes, Sad Monk. Really.”

“Okay. I’ll take it.”

It was Simon’s turn to look surprised.

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.” Nahyuta echoed. “You have no idea how many horrid apartments and distasteful people I’ve seen and met in the last month. I’m not particularly fond of you, either, but I can agree that you’re… manageable.”

“A high compliment, coming from you.”

“Don’t let it go to your head, Panda.”

“I was wondering when you were going to whip that one out.” Simon said, smirking.

Nahyuta sighed. “I was trying to be cordial.”

“Don’t bother.” Simon said. “I already know you’re an ass. Can’t fool me, Sad Monk.”

“Perhaps not. It takes one to know one, though.” Nahyuta countered.

“I don’t deny it.” Simon shrugged nonchalantly.

Nahyuta rolled his eyes. “Well, at least you know. Anyways. I should get going.”

Simon nodded. “I’ll email you with details for the lease?”

“Works for me.”

“Alright then.”

Nahyuta strode back towards the door, deftly pulling on his boots. He opened the door, pausing briefly before walking through.

“Goodnight, Simon.” he said, not looking back. “Rest well.”

By the time Simon could think to reply, the door had already clicked shut between them.

May 31 ^st , 7:00 PM

Justice & Gavin Residence

“You’re actually taking it?”

“You don’t have to sound so surprised, Apollo. It was your idea, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“Well, yeah, but I thought you were just humoring me.”

Nahyuta shrugged. “Perhaps at first. But it really is a nice place. And the reverse panda seems the type to keep to himself, at least.”

Apollo didn’t look convinced. “What about the bird?”

Nahyuta laughed. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten about Datz and the warbaa’d, Apollo. Taka is a spring chick in comparison.”

Apollo shuddered. “God, don’t remind me. That thing was a menace.”

“A menace? Surely you aren’t speaking of me, liebling.” Klavier’s voice floated down from the hallway, growing louder as he entered the kitchen.

“I wasn’t, but you know you are one.” Apollo replied, leaning back as Klavier came up behind his chair and wrapped his arms around him, pressing a brief kiss to the top of his head.

“Ach, I’m hurt, Herr Forehead! Which menace was it this time, then?”

“Nahyuta was just reminding me of the giant demon bird our uncle used to keep.” Apollo replied.

“Ah” Klavier said. “That would be Datz, ja?”

Apollo nodded.

Klavier hummed. “The more I learn about that man, the more I question how he’s managed to survive this long.”

Apollo snorted. “Sheer, dumb luck, probably.”

“The Holy Mother protects him, for some unknown reason.” Nahyuta said serenely. “Or he sold his soul to some devil. Could be either one.”

Klavier laughed brightly. “Was it you, perhaps, dear Horn Head?” he teased.

Apollo scowled. “I regret ever introducing you to Rayfa.”

“I shall pray that his soul is released from your malicious grasp.” Nahyuta said, bowing his head.

“Why does everyone in my life bully me?” Apollo asked, to no one in particular.

“Ach, it is because we love you, liebling.” Klavier bent to kiss his boyfriend gently on the lips. “And I seem to recall this whole conversation started with you calling me a menace.”

“Fool that I am,” Apollo muttered.

Klavier chuckled. “What brought up all the talk of bird menaces anyways?”

Apollo sighed. “Nahyuta here has made the definitely not questionable choice of moving in with our bird-loving friend Simon Blackquill.”

“Herr Blackquill?” Klavier said, surprised. “I did not realize the two of you were friends!”

“We aren’t,” Nahyuta cut in. “It’s merely a convenient arrangement.”

“Ah I see,” Klavier said, wiggling his eyebrows. “It is, perhaps, an arrangement with benefits, ja?”

“Klav! Don’t be gross.” Apollo chastised. It took Nahyuta a moment to realize what exactly the man had been implying. He felt color rise to his cheeks.

“I only meant we’re both in need of housing and can’t find anyone better.” he insisted, frowning.

“Alright, alright, I apologize, it was a cheap shot. But I am genuinely surprised.” Klavier said, resting his chin on top of Apollo’s head.

“So am I,” Apollo muttered, leaning forward and dislodging himself out from beneath Klavier’s chin. His boyfriend whined at the separation, pulling him back towards his chest. Apollo rolled his eyes and relented, returning to his previous position. He moved his head so that it lay on Klavier’s shoulder where it was safe from being used as a headrest. Klavier’s responding grin was blinding.

Apollo turned his attention back to Nahyuta, though the latter didn’t miss the soft, content look that crossed his face before he did so. “Are you sure?” he asked.

“Yes,” Nahyuta said. “At least Simon and Taka won’t be so disgustingly in love as the two of you.”

Klavier’s eyes glinted. “I wouldn’t be so sure. She is his bosom buzzard after all.”

Nahyuta groaned, leaning forward to rest his chin on one hand. “I yearn for the simplicity of life before I ever heard you utter that phrase.”

Apollo snorted. “That one’s not Klavier’s actually. Simon calls her that himself.”

“O Holy Mother, is it truly too much to ask for any of the people in my life to be normal?” Nahyuta wondered aloud.

“You say that as if you don’t regularly commune with butterflies and attack people with sentient prayer beads.” Apollo countered.

“He’s got you there.” Klavier agreed, giving Apollo’s shoulder a gentle squeeze.

Nahyuta sighed. “I must go pray.” he said, standing swiftly from the table, “for the affliction that is my life. Goodnight.”

He inclined his head towards the pair, then strode off towards the guest room.

“You really think this is a good idea, liebling?” Klavier asked once he was out of earshot.

Apollo considered the question for a moment. “No,” he said. “They’re probably going to drive each other mad.”

Klavier hummed. “I don’t know. I think those two have more in common than they’re willing to admit. Maybe they’ll finally make peace.”

“If you say so,” Apollo said with a shrug. “Nahyuta could use another friend, I suppose.”

“Ja, another friend.” Klavier mused. “That’s kind of what I had in mind.”

May 31 ^st , 8:00 PM

Blackquill Residence

A loud screech from the other end of the line nearly made Simon drop his phone off the balcony.

“Christ, Athena! Spare my eardrums!”

“Ah, sorry, sorry!” Athena’s tinny voice came through the phone’s speaker, not sounding sorry at all. “I’m just happy you finally found a roommate! And it’s not a complete stranger!”

“It’s hardly thrilling news.”

Athena laughed. “Sure it is! I was worried about you, you know. I know how attached you are to that place.”

Simon grunted. “Whatever. I would have managed either way.”

“Seriously, though.” Athena said. “I’m proud of you for giving him another chance.”

Simon scoffed. “Hardly. He’s simply fulfilling a need, that’s all. We’ve agreed that neither of us want to be friends.”

“Still! I know it’s hard for you to let someone into your space. That’s gotta count for something.”

“Tch. Nonsense. I still despise the man.”

Athena hummed. “You know, I don’t think you do.”

“I know your ability doesn’t work over the phone, Athena.”

“I don’t need it to! I just don’t think you would really be okay with living alongside someone you truly hated. Not when you had a choice in the matter.”

“I didn’t have much choice in the matter.” Simon reminded her.

“Sure you did! You always have a choice.” Athena argued.

Simon sighed. “I’m not fighting you on this. What does it matter if I hate the man or not?”

“I suppose it doesn’t. I still think you two could be friends, though.” Athena said.

“And I still disagree.” Simon rolled his eyes though he knew she couldn’t see it.

“Boo! Let me have my fun.”

“I’m not your plaything, Athena.” Simon said. “Now, goodnight.”

“Sure, sure you aren’t. Goodnight!”

Simon ended the call, slipping his phone back into his pocket. He stood, moving to lean against the railing of his balcony, gazing out over the city street. He knew Athena was only teasing, but he was loathe to admit that she was a little bit right. He wouldn’t choose to live with someone he hated, which is why he went into Nahyuta’s visit fully expecting it would be a disaster and that he’d call Athena afterwards to let her know that it wasn’t going to work. He’d entertained her idea, now please leave him alone.

But Nahyuta had been… different. It was hardly the first time Simon had seen him since he’d moved to LA following his younger sister’s coronation and his subsequent retirement from his position as Khura’inian regent. They did work in the same office now, after all, though they’d never worked a case together. They hadn’t spoken beyond a cordial “hello” when they passed each other in the hallway, but Simon had seen him around.

He’d heard about the whole blackmail situation from Athena, of course. But he hadn’t actually thought Nahyuta’s true personality would be much different from the cold, condescending air he held in court. He’d expected the man to show up, insult and belittle his apartment, get (deservedly) attacked by Taka, and leave in a righteous huff. And that was if he even showed up at all.

But he had shown up, looking exactly as he always had in his white coat and boots, his weird gravity-defying scarf around his shoulders. He was still the perfect picture of a sacred monk, but his putrid personality was nowhere to be found. Instead, he’d been… friendly, almost. He hadn’t risen to any of Simon’s jabs, and his compliments about the place seemed genuine.

Most surprising, though, was how he’d interacted with Taka. Simon had been even more apprehensive than usual, knowing Taka had gone after him in the past, at his own instruction. What with her new habit of attacking unprovoked, the sad monk didn’t stand a chance.

But he’d been entirely unfazed by her aggressive thievery. Even Athena likely would’ve been upset with Taka for pulling such a maneuver; she’d yelled at her before for trying to snatch her ribbon straight off her head. Nahyuta had taken it all in stride.

Simon turned away from the railing, glancing back through the glass doors into his bedroom, where Taka was fast asleep on her perch. Nahyuta’s scarf hung next to her, the ends fluttering lightly in the breeze from the open window. He hadn’t even tried to take it back.

Simon sighed, shaking his head. It was rare that he misjudged anyone, and it had been a long time since anyone had surprised him so much. He’d have to keep a close eye on the sad monk. He couldn’t help it; he was curious now.

Maybe Nahyuta wasn’t as bad as he thought.

Chapter Text

June 14^th , 3:00 PM

Los Angeles County Courthouse, Courtroom Three

Simon was watching Nahyuta in court.

Not on purpose, mind you. He had just… ended up here.

That afternoon, he had wrapped up the paperwork for his latest case — on time, mind you, unlike many of his colleagues — and decided to walk to the courthouse to see if any interesting cases were being argued. He’d decided to slip into Nahyuta’s courtroom because Athena was defending, not even noticing who the prosecutor was; he’d never missed a chance to collect blackmail material in case she flubbed. Not that she did that very often anymore; Athena had become quite capable over the past couple years. Secretly, Simon also like watching her trials because he was proud of her— but he’d never admit it. Seeing Nahyuta at the opposite bench had been a bit of a surprise, but it wasn’t necessarily an unwelcome one.

Today’s case was, as the WAA’s cases almost always are, extremely convoluted. The trial was well underway by the time Simon had entered the gallery, so he’d had to piece bits of the story together as the trial went on; it was something about a theater director being murdered, her assistant director, one Ms. Bella Barrette, the defendant. When he walked in, he noted that Athena had Widget’s interface pulled up and was deep into one of her “therapy sessions”.

“Mr. Joel, I’m registering a high level of sadness from you when you talk about your wife’s promotion. I thought you said you were happy for her?”

The witness, a rather mousy-looking man, clutched at the cap grasped in his hands. “Well, well, I was! It just makes me sad to think about it now, because, uh, now she’ll never get to direct the program like she always wanted. Yeah, that’s it.”

“You don’t seem very sure about that, Mr. Joel.” Athena countered. “Do you believe that’s why she was killed? You think my client wanted her job?”

“Uh, yeah. Yeah I guess so.”

“Objection!” Nahyuta’s voice rang clearly across the courtroom as he slammed his fist against the bench, prayer beads clattering. “This is a court of law, Ms. Cykes. We deal in facts, not conjecture. It matters not what the witness believes of the defendant, only what he knows.”

“Yes, Ms. Cykes, please keep to the testimony.” the Judge agreed.

Athena nodded, unfazed.

“Let me rephrase. Did you witness anything that made you suspicious of Ms. Barrette?”

“Yes,” the witness said, nodding furiously. “I heard her backstage, complaining about how this would be the last good show, since my wife would be directing the next! She said she had no creative vision.”

“And when was this, exactly?”

“Uh, the show before last. The matinee.”

Athena’s eyes narrowed. “The matinee? Well, I’m afraid that’s just not possible, Mr. Joel. My client doesn’t work the matinee show! The only show she worked last week was the evening show where your wife was killed!”

“Oh… oh well, it must have been the evening show week before, then.”

Athena shook her head. “But your wife’s promotion hadn’t been announced last week. The only way you could have heard my client complaining about it was if you, too, were backstage during the last evening performance. Meaning you weren’t at home like you said— you were at the scene of the crime!”

A ripple of murmurs passed through the gallery as Athena drove her point home. Simon suppressed a grin— she’d cornered him well.

Nahyuta, expression calm, was folding his hands in prayer behind the prosecutor’s bench. A pink butterfly materialized on the tip of his index finger. Simon still had no bloody idea how he did that.

“Witness,” Nahyuta said, “am I to understand that you have lied to this court of law?”

On the witness stand, Joel said nothing, frozen in fear.

“Witness.” Nahyuta repeated, his eyes flashing open as the butterfly disappeared in a smattering of sparks.

Oh, Simon thought to himself, that’s a good one. Intimidation by exploding butterfly.

Back on the stand, Joel had found his voice. “Gah! Okay, yes, fine I was there! I’m sorry! I knew it would make me look bad so I lied.” he said, rapidly. He kept his gaze stubbornly fixed on the ground, refusing to make eye contact with Nahyuta.

“Objection!” Athena yelled, slamming her hands down in front of her. “You knew it would make you look bad because you are bad. You’re the real culprit, aren’t you, Mr. Joel? Admit it!”

“Ms. Cykes,” Nahyuta said dryly, “please recall our earlier conversation about conjecture.”

Athena frowned. “But it’s so obvious!” Widget chirped.

“The clearest way forward is not always the correct way, Ms. Cykes. I must insist you prove it.”

“Fine!” Athena said. “Bring it!”

She rounded on the witness, her sudden movement making him jump. “Mr. Joel! You will testify again and this time you will tell the truth.”

“The prosecution seconds that motion.” Nahyuta said smoothly, inclining his head politely towards Athena.

The Judge nodded. “Proceed, and take better care in choosing your words this time, witness.”

On the stand, Joel deflated. “Alright, I’ll tell you.” he said.

“I didn’t go to the theater to see my wife. I couldn’t care less that she was there. I’d simply forgotten my phone somewhere backstage during sound check that afternoon and I went to retrieve it. I found it outside Ms. Barrette’s dressing room. That’s when I heard her complaining.”

“Objection!” Athena cried. “Ms. Barrette testified earlier that all the dressing rooms are thoroughly soundproofed. The only way you could have heard her was if you were in the room!”

“Ah! I mean, uh. Uh, yeah, actually I was in the room! Um, in the wardrobe. That’s why Ms. Barrette didn’t see me.”

Nahyuta raised one perfectly groomed eyebrow. “And what was it you were doing in there, pray tell?”

“My phone was there! That’s, ah, where I’d left it.”

Nahyuta tilted his head to one side, contemplating. “And what was your phone doing in the wardrobe of a lady’s dressing room, exactly?”

Joel flushed, his scrabbling fingers digging hard enough into his cap for the fabric to tear.

“Uh! I don’t know? Maybe it got moved on accident with the costumes?” he said, beads of sweat starting to drip down his forehead.

“And you knew where it had been moved how?”

“I didn’t! I called it and heard it ring in the dressing room.”

Simon noticed Athena open her mouth to object, but Nahyuta beat her to it.

“Mr. Joel. My patience wears thin.” he said, shaking his head. “As we have established, you did not have your phone, as you had lost it, so you could not have called anyone, much less yourself. Furthermore, we know the dressing rooms are soundproof, so even if you did manage a call, you could not have heard it from anywhere in the theater except Ms. Barrette’s dressing room.”

From his perch above, the Judge frowned disapprovingly. “Witness,” he said, “you will tell the truth or else I will charge you with perjury.”

Nahyuta turned to smile serenely at the judge. “Worry not, Your Honor. We will extract the truth from this witness yet.”

Joel paled, evidently not eager to have anything extracted from him.

Nahyuta returned his piercing gaze to the witness, who stood sweating buckets on the stand.

“Mr. Joel,” he began, “I fear that if you do not admit to your crimes when asked, you will find yourself facing more serious charges.”

“Hold it!” Athena shouted, inserting herself back into the conversation. “What more serious charge? He’d be admitting to murder!”

Nahyuta shook his head. “Ms. Cykes, I am afraid that is not the case.” He turned back to Joel. “Last chance, witness.”

Joel’s cap was now in shreds on the courtroom floor. His eyes were bulging out of their sockets, gaze darting around frantically. He remained resolutely silent.

“Very well. I shall explain for you, then.” Nahyuta said.

“You went to the theater that night with malicious intent, but not to kill your wife. Rather, you planned to sneak into Ms. Barrette’s dressing room, where you’d hidden your phone in the wardrobe to record her undressing. However, Ms. Barrette returned while you were still in the room, so you hid yourself in the wardrobe and continued to play peeping Tom.” Nahyuta’s mouth twisted in disgust. “You are, undeniably, an unsavory man, but you are not a killer. Am I correct?”

On the witness stand, Joel’s face had lost all color. His eyes darted around the courtroom, looking for a way out. When he didn’t find one, he sighed and hung his head.

“Yes.” Joel said, meek and defeated. “You’re right.”

“There you have it.” Nahyuta said, bowing his head. “All is explained.”

“Objection!” Athena cried. “Him being at the theater to creep on Ms. Barrette doesn’t overrule the possibility that he also went there to kill his wife!”

Nahyuta shook his head. “I’m afraid Mr. Joel here was long gone by the time his wife was murdered.”

He picked up a folder from the bench, flipping through it quickly and extracting a photograph.

“The prosecution would like to enter into evidence this traffic camera photo. As you can see, the witness is clearly visible driving on the highway, a good five miles away from the theater, at the time of the murder. He couldn’t have done it.”

On the witness stand, Joel’s face had turned as red as a tomato.

“You imbecile! Why didn’t you just show them that in the first place? You had no reason to drag me through the mud!” he yelled, spittle flying.

“Ah,” Nahyuta said, “I’m afraid it slipped my mind until just now. I do apologize, Mr. Joel. I’m sure the court agrees— it is most unfortunate that my error has brought your disgusting crimes to light.”

Behind the defense bench, Athena was snickering into her hand, barely managing to contain the noise. Simon himself was fighting a smile. Nahyuta, meanwhile, looked as calm and sincere as ever.

“Your Honor,” he said,”may I request another day of investigation? It seems clear that the scene was not thoroughly examined, as evidenced by Mr. Joel’s somehow undetected presence.”

The Judge didn’t respond for a moment; he just stared at Nahyuta with something that could be either awe or fear in his eyes. Maybe both.

“Your Honor?” Nahyuta repeated, slightly louder.

“Ah!” cried the Judge, returning to his senses. “Yes, of course. That does seem the proper way forward. Bailiffs— please take Mr. Joel here into custody on the basis of his other crimes.”

Nahyuta smiled and gave the Judge a small bow. “Thank you, Your Honor.” he said, before turning on his heel and walking out to the prosecutor’s lobby, scarf fluttering behind him as he went.

Simon grinned as he made his way own to the defense bench, where Athena was still packing up her things. He tapped his knuckles lightly on the table to get her attention.

“Simon!” she said, smiling. “I didn’t know you were here!”

“I snuck in at the beginning of that last witness’ testimony. Glad I did, that was quite entertaining.”

Athena groaned. “He was my prime suspect, though! I really thought we were gonna nab him but then Prosecutor Sahdmadhi had to switch things up at the last minute.”

Simon laughed. “You do realize that what all of you at the Wright agency do to us prosecutors every single trial?”

“That’s not the same!”

“Isn’t it? Tell me, Athena, if you had been defending the witness instead of your client, would you not have done exactly as the sad monk did?”

Athena considered it for a moment, then let out a long sigh. “Okay, yeah, I see your point. It’s so frustrating!”

“Yet it is so very refreshing to see it turned against you for once.”

Athena stuck her tongue out at him.

“Go be a bother somewhere else, Simon! I have a crime scene to get back to.”

“Fine, fine. Don’t forget to check all the closets for stray perverts. Never know when one of those pesky things is gonna pop up.”

Athena rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, whatever, as if any of them could stand a chance against me in the first place.”

Simon inclined his head. “Fair. Do share photos of any creeps you beat up. I should like to laugh at them.”

“Will do, ya freak.”

Simon chuckled, waving a brief goodbye as he turned and made his way out of the courthouse.

Chapter Text

June 14 ^th , 6:00 PM

Blackquill & Sahdmadhi Residence

Living with Nahyuta was kind of like living with a ghost.

In the two weeks since he’d moved in, Simon could probably count the number of times he’d seen him in the apartment on one hand, and even those were brief glimpses. The flick of his braid as he entered his room, or the soft tap of his footsteps in the living room as he passed behind Simon on his way to and from the kitchen. During those few instances, Simon could see him out the corner of his eye from his place on the couch— but neither said anything. If he didn’t know any better, he might think he’d inadvertently become the main character in a horror film, starting to question his sanity as he caught glimpses of a strange purple presence lingering around his home.

That’s not to say that there was no evidence of the change— the new ingredients that appeared in the fridge and pantry and the soft chanting that occasionally emanated from the room at the end of the hall made it clear that the monk was around. He just… kept to himself. All the time. A few times, Simon had even noticed him come out of his room, see that Simon was around, and freeze before quickly retreating. Simon, graciously, pretended he didn’t notice.

Simon isn’t really sure what he’d expected. He’d seen that Nahyuta was, in fact, capable of being decent, but he hadn’t pegged him as the quiet type. Especially not after he’d seen him in court this afternoon. The man seemed to come alive when he was behind the bench, his eyes flashing as he sparred with the defense. His calm, collected demeanor had remained unchanged, but the personal insults and condemnations to oddly specific circles of hell were notably absent. He had been sharp and unpredictable; he never did quite what Simon thought he was going to. Nahyuta Sahdmadhi was an enigma, and Simon was determined to figure him out.

And yet the more he learned of him, the more confusing he became.

Simon struggled to reconcile all the different version of the man floating around in his head. There was condescending, asshole Nahyuta, the original; tentatively friendly Nahyuta, who he’d met at his apartment; proud, cunning in-court Nahyuta, from this afternoon; and silent ghost Nahyuta, who made himself so incredibly scarce, Simon sometimes thought he’d changed his mind and moved out without warning.

Simon pondered these clashing personalities as he busied himself around the kitchen, preparing dinner. He wasn’t much of a cook, not really, but he found the exercise of making a familiar recipe calming. It was a good way to busy his hands when he had a lot on his mind.

As he began chopping the garlic and onions, Simon wondered Nahyuta bothered him so much in the first place. Sure, they lived together, so it was understandable that he wanted to know him at least a little bit. But this felt like something more; like Nahyuta was a puzzle that Simon simply couldn’t resist solving. Maybe it was the psychologist in him who wanted to understand the man’s conflicting behavior. Maybe he was just being plain old nosy.

Simon was jolted from his thoughts by the sound of the front door slamming shut. He jumped, narrowly avoiding cutting himself on the kitchen knife he’d been using. He turned to see Nahyuta standing in the doorway, frozen.

“Sad Monk.” Simon said, by way of greeting.

Nahyuta blinked. “Panda. I… didn’t realize you would be home.”

Simon shrugged. “I’m usually not, but I had a surprisingly light load today. I’m sure I’ll be back to late nights in the office soon.”

“I see.” Nahyuta said.

“I saw part of your trial trial today, actually.” Simon offered, turning back to the chopping board and reaching for a tomato.

“Oh. Were you there to see Athena?”

Simon hummed an affirmative. “Sadly, she did not act foolish enough today for me to collect any new blackmail material.”

Nahyuta laughed lightly. “No, she was very capable.”

Silence stretched awkwardly between the two of them, the only sound that of Simon’s neat slicing. Nahyuta took a step down the hallway towards his room.

“Have you eaten?” Simon asked, before he could think better of it.

“What’s it to you?” Nahyuta replied, slightly defensive.

Simon glanced back over his shoulder, confused. That was an odd reaction, he thought.

“I just wondered if you’d like some of what I’m making. It’s nothing fancy, just tomato and eggs with rice. It doesn’t keep very well and I’ve made more than I need.”

“Oh. Well, if it’s not a bother, that would be rather nice. I’m running low on groceries myself.” Nahyuta said quietly, coming to sit on one of the stools by the counter. He seemed… hesitant, as if he wasn’t sure he was welcome in the space.

Simon frowned. “Do I make you uncomfortable, Sad Monk?” he asked, opening the fridge to retrieve a carton of eggs.

“Excuse me?”

“I just wondered,” he said, grabbing a large bowl from the dish rack and beginning to crack eggs into is. From where he was working next to the stove, he couldn’t see the other man.

“What ever gave you that idea?”

“You seem to be avoiding me,” Simon said. “I know part of it just our schedules, but whenever I do see you around here, you kind of freeze up. Like you’ve been caught with your hand in the proverbial cookie jar.”

“Hm. I think you read too much into things.” Nahyuta said breezily. “I suppose I’m still getting situated to having you as a roommate.”

“Perhaps,” Simon said. “I merely wondered. I would not wish for you to feel uncomfortable in your own home.”

“That is… surprisingly considerate of you, Panda.”

“Hey, it’s for my sake too. You being uncomfortable makes me uncomfortable.” Simon replied. “I’m just trying to coexist in peace.”

Nahyuta hummed. “I suppose I am… wary of being bothersome.” he said carefully.

Simon raised an eyebrow. “Bothersome? I can’t say I ever thought I’d say this, but you’ve been the farthest thing from bothersome since you got here.”

Nahyuta said nothing, one hand coming up to tug at his braid.

“Even if you were, I’d hardly send you to the curb. Pretty sure I couldn’t even if I wanted to, since we both signed the lease.” Simon added.

“Right,” Nahyuta said faintly. “Of course.”

Silence stretched between then once again. Simon wanted to say more, but he didn’t want to push too hard. The monk seemed rather skittish, one leg bouncing in quick tempo, ready to bolt at any second. He was a far cry from the calm, confident man he’d seen in court just this morning.

What had him acting so different? Was Simon truly that bad to be around? If he was, why had Nahyuta accepted the room in the first place? None of it made sense.

Simon frowned, turning his attention back to the stove, where the eggs were coming along nicely. He glanced over at the steaming rice cooker on the other counter, noting the red light under “Stay Warm” was lit. Right. Everything was ready.

Simon walked to the other side of the kitchen, retrieving two plates from one of the cabinets. Nahyuta eyes followed him around the room silently; Simon pretended not to notice. Instead, he scooped equal helping of rice onto each plate, then placed the tomato and egg stir fry on top. He returned to the counter where Nahyuta was sitting, both plates in hand. He set both down and slid one across the table.

“Thank you.” Nahyuta said. He still seemed a bit wary, pulling the plate cautiously towards him. Simon plopped down across from him, digging in without reservation. That seemed to reassure Nahyuta, somewhat— he took a few small bites, a lightly surprised expression forming on his features.

“This is good,” Nahyuta said.

“Don’t act so surprised, Sad Monk,” Simon said. “I’m not completely useless in the kitchen.”

“No, no! I didn’t mean… well, I suppose I wasn’t sure what to expect.” Nahyuta said with a small laugh.

Simon shrugged. “I’ve eaten more than enough bad food for one lifetime. I’d imagine I’m more grateful for a good kitchen and decent ingredients than most.”

Nahyuta nodded slowly. “That does make sense. I admit my own cooking skills are… lacking.”

Simon raised an eyebrow, inviting him to elaborate.

“It wasn’t exactly proper for me to be seen in the palace kitchens when I lived there, and we didn’t have a lot of options food-wise when I was a child. I do make a mean grilled lizard, though, if you’ve got an open fire and some decently sharp tree branches.”

Simon laughed. “I may just take you up on that.”

“It has been a while, I will say,” Nahyuta replied. “It’s not a dish I’m particularly keen on.”

He rolled his eyes and gestured dismissively with one hand. “Besides, people here find me foreign enough without the unorthodox cuisine. It’s just food to me, but tourists always treat it like a spectacle. Like, wow, look at these backwards Khura’inese, eating lizards whole! As if they don’t subsist on unidentifiable processed meats.”

Simon hummed in agreement. “Americans are rather bad at self-awareness, I’ve found. They treat other cultures like zoo exhibits and wonder why they get a bad rap. If I see one more viral video of some white guy with the tagline “Trying strange Japanese food! Number 4 will make you retch!” as clickbait I’m going to lose it.”

Nahyuta snorted. “Maybe we should film one ourselves. You can shoot me trying McDonalds and acting like it’s the most disgusting thing I’ve ever had the misfortune of consuming. Which, honestly, might be true.”

“Trying American mystery meat! Normal Khura’inese man braves experimental Western cuisine!” Simon announced, rolling his eyes. “It’d get views in the millions.”

Nahyuta let out a snicker. “Comment section would be a war zone, though.”

“Eh, you’re probably right. That’s the internet for you, I suppose.”

“Oh, to have the luxury of sitting around all day saying mean things about strangers for no fathomable reason.”

Simon laughed. “At least when we’re mean, we do it to people’s faces.”

“True.” Nahyuta smiled.

“Like you, today, with that witness. I won’t lie, that was some impressive maneuvering.” Simon said.

Nahyuta schooled his features into a familiar serene mask. “Whatever do you mean, Prosecutor Blackquill? I’m afraid I made a rather pitiable mistake and I’m most ashamed to have wasted the court’s time.”

Simon guffawed at that, nearly choking on the mouthful of rice he’d been chewing. “I really thought that witness was going to take a swing at you.”

“I’d like to have seen him try.” Nahyuta sniffed, one hand coming up to trace along the prayer beads at his neck.

Simon grinned, pleased that he’d managed to spark a normal conversation with the other man. He really was easy to talk to, once he got going. Funny, animated, even. Simon rather liked him like this.

Nahyuta was still talking, saying something about the incompetence of the detectives on the case and how obvious it had been that Joel hadn’t done it, gross a man as he was, when suddenly, one of his gestures went wide, knocking into a glass of water that one of them had left sitting on the counter. Both watched, as if in slow motion, as the glass tipped over, then rolled off the counter altogether. There was a brief silence before the piercing sound of shattering glass filled the kitchen.

Nahyuta’s reaction was instant. He froze, eyes fixed on the spot where the glass had been. He looked almost… scared?

“Oh, fuck.” Simon said, more out of surprise than anything.

“I’m so sorry!” Nahyuta said in a rush, starting to stand. “I’ll… I’ll be more careful, I’ll replace it, just let me clean up. Um, where do you keep your broom?”

“Woah, woah!” Simon said, putting his hands up. “Sit back down, Sahdmadhi, you’re barefoot and surrounded by glass. It’s in the pantry behind me, I can grab it.”

Nahyuta bit his lip, but slowly lowered himself back into his seat. Once Simon was satisfied that he wouldn’t try to get up again, he went to the pantry in the back of the kitchen and retrieved a broom and dustpan.

He returned to the counter and started sweeping up the glass shards, giving Nahyuta a stern look when he moved to get up again.

“I’ve got house slippers on, Sad Monk, I’ll be fine. You just stay put.”

Nahyuta didn’t look happy about it, but he relented, sitting in silence as Simon carefully gathered the pieces of glass and swept them into the dustpan. He set the broom aside and bent over to open the cabinet beneath the sink, looking for the old tissue box he kept full of plastic grocery bags. He grabbed two, putting one inside the other for extra protection, then carefully deposited the glass remnants into the bag.

“I don’t have a vacuum, so that’s the best I can do. Be careful where you step for a bit.” he said, straightening up and tying the bag closed. He dropped it in the kitchen trash can, then turned back to look at Nahyuta.

“Do you have slippers you can wear aro—“ Simon stopped mid-sentence, wholly unprepared for the sight in front of him.

Nahyuta was still sat behind the counter, but he had curled in on himself, his normally perfect braid disheveled where he’d been pulling at it. His eyes were shiny and it looked like he was struggling to hold back tears. He kept his arms folded tightly across his chest, gripping his elbows as if he no longer trusted his own limbs.

“I’m sorry,” he said, so quietly that Simon could barely make him out. “I was acting carelessly, flailing around like that. I didn’t mean to ruin your meal.”

“Ruin it? Nahyuta, you just knocked over something on accident. It’s fine.”

Nahyuta refused to look at him. “I shouldn’t have let myself get carried away. This always happens, I just get so clumsy, and now I’ve gone and broken your things.” He bit his lip. “I’m sorry. I should go.”

Simon tried another tactic. “Sahdmadhi, wait. I’m not upset with you, if that’s what you think,” he said, working to keep his tone even.

Nahyuta’s expression remained skeptical.

“I mean it,” Simon said. “Things break. It happens. Everything is okay.”

Nahyuta swallowed. “Right. Of course. I’m overreacting, I’m sor—“

“Sad Monk, if you apologize one more time then I’ll make you sorry.”

Nahyuta looked up at him, eyes wide and mouth agape. Simon could practically see the gears turning in his head as he tried to process his unexpected response.

After a moment, a small laugh bubbled up to the surface. Nahyuta went to cover his mouth with one hand, but Simon had already heard it. He raised an eyebrow in response.

“That made no sense, Simon.” Nahyuta said, giggling between sniffles. “What would the point be in making me sorry if you’re don’t want me to be sorry in the first place? And how were you planning on doing that, exactly?”

Simon shrugged. “Was gonna cross that bridge if we got to it. I don’t really care if it made sense. Stop apologizing for something that wasn’t your fault.”

Nahyuta’s small smile faded and he looked away again.

“Sahdmadhi. I’m serious. You don’t need to walk on eggshells. I know we’ve had our differences in the past, but I’m not going to blow up on you over an accident. I’m not sitting here waiting for you to mess up and I don’t actually hate you. You haven’t ruined anything and I’m not going to throw you out of our apartment, so stop catastrophizing.”

“Oh,” Nahyuta said.

“Yeah, oh.” Simon said, making his way back to the counter and picking up his fork. “Now finish your food.”

Nahyuta took up his own fork, resuming the same small bites in an almost robotic manner. Now that he’d calmed down, his expression was unreadable. The two ate in silence, though it wasn’t uncomfortable.

Simon, always a fast eater, finished first and made quick work of the dishes, giving the counters a thorough wipe down while he was at it. He walked past Nahyuta on his way out of the kitchen, intending on going to his own room. Unexpectedly, the monk placed a hand on his arm as he passed, stoping him in his tracks.

“Thank you.” he said, softly. “For the food.”

“It wasn’t a problem.” Simon said. “But you’re welcome.”

Maybe he was reading too much into it, but as Simon left the kitchen, he couldn’t help feeling like they hadn’t been talking about his cooking at all.

June 14 ^th , 9:00 PM

Los Angeles Prosecutor’s Office

Nahyuta Sahdmadhi was a coward.

He always has been; being a Defiant Dragon and rebelling against Ga’ran’s fascist regime had not changed that. Sure, he could fight, and he would if backed into a corner. But if there was a way out, any way out, then he would take it. Every time.

He spent nearly half of his life holding his tongue in fear of Ga’ran. He played the part of her lackey disgustingly well; she’d wrung any semblance of a rebellious streak from him within the first year he spent as prosecutor. A prosecutor, because he was too much of a coward to work for the defense. She couldn’t have controlled him if he’d done that.

But then again, in that case, he would probably be dead. So, perhaps being a coward was useful, at least in terms of self-preservation. But he couldn’t help but look at Phoenix Wright, at his own brother, and wonder if he could have done what they did years earlier, if he had only had the courage.

It was a question he could never answer, because he had been too weak to even try. He hated that about himself, how vulnerable he felt all the time. The transcendent monk facade helped, but lately even that was cracking at the seams. He felt like loose tooth, held in place by the smallest fragment of ligament, one good tug away from being lost forever. He couldn’t handle anything. Not ever a single broken glass.

It was pathetic, really. He’d knocked over one little water glass and suddenly his emotional state was in turmoil. He’d barely gotten any work done today, despite having been in the office since before the sun rose. He hadn’t been able to sleep.

Now, he’s afraid to go home. It’s late, and he’s exhausted, but he’s stuck in this office chair, rooted to the spot by the unbearable shame of it all. He couldn’t believe he had let Simon, of all people, see him like that. He must think him completely useless.

Nahyuta sighed, lowering his head to his desk, resting it on the pillow of his arms. His fears were irrational; he knew that. He knew that Ga’ran wasn’t going to emerge from the grave in his kitchen halfway across the world because her spirit had retained that infallible instinct of knowing when Nahyuta had done something wrong. Of course she wasn’t. She couldn’t.

Yet the second that glass had shattered, Nahyuta was right back at the palace, dodging the tirade of heavy crystal glasses that accompanied Ga’ran’s rage at his incompetence. She’d always had quite the temper, and shattering things was her preferred way of expressing it. There was a reason why Nahyuta had taken to wearing his knee-high boots and long overcoat all the time. He’d quickly learned that it was best to cover everything but his face; she’d never give him any sort of visible injury, and if he wore enough layers, he could avoid the worst of it. But he’d spent many a night sitting on the floor of his closet, tweezers in hand, carefully picking tiny shards of glass out of the fabric.

But Ga’ran was gone, and no one was around to throw anything at Nahyuta anymore. So why couldn’t he stop himself from panicking? Why couldn’t he just move on? He wasn’t in any danger, not anymore. But his body, it seemed, had not yet gotten the memo. One broken glass was all it took to send him into a terrifying state of adrenaline fueled hyperdrive that he was helpless to turn off.

So, here he was, sitting in his office late into the evening, trying to coax himself into going home.

Maybe Simon won’t be home and you can just go to bed.

But what if he was home? What if he was waiting there, some pitying expression on his face, asking Nahyuta if he was okay like he was some upset child to be consoled after a tantrum? Nahyuta wasn’t sure he could handle that.

I have a couch. I could just sleep here.

A temporary solution, of course, but he could sneak home in the early hours of the morning, when Simon, ever the night owl, would certainly be fast asleep. That could work. If he just—

“Sad Monk?”

Nahyuta jumped, startled from his thoughts. He blinked rapidly, trying to process how the towering man he’d just been thinking about had managed to materialize on the other side of his desk.

“I did knock. Three times.” Simon said matter-of-factly, seeming to follow Nahyuta’s train of thought. “I thought perhaps you’d decided to enter the Twilight Realm so you wouldn’t have to finish your paperwork. Can’t say I’d blame you if you had.”

Nahyuta shook his head, bringing himself back to the present. “Unfortunately not, Panda,” he said. “I’m afraid you’ll have to endure my existence a little longer.”

“Shame.” Simon said. “Usually I have the office to myself this time of night.”

Nahyuta frowned, glancing at the clock hanging on the opposite wall. It was nearly 10 PM.

“Oh,” he said, “I must have lost track of time.”

“That does happen when one takes a nap at their desk, yes.”

“It’s not a practice I make a habit of.” Nahyuta replied, a little snidely.

Simon shrugged. “Well, I’ll be in my office, then, now that I’ve established your continued residency in the land of the living. If you’re going to sleep, go home. I prefer the office empty.”

Simon turned and left Nahyuta’s office, striding off in the direction of his own. Nahyuta blinked, still processing the interaction. Vaguely, he realized that the apartment would be empty now, and that Simon was clearly not going to baby him despite his behavior the night before. He had no reason not to go home.

Slowly, Nahyuta gathered his things, retrieving his coat and scarf before heading out of the building. He returned to the apartment in a daze, head swimming with too many thoughts for him to properly process. Upon entering the apartment, he found a cling-wrapped plate of stir fry sitting out on the counter. He reached for the sticky note placed on top.

Made too much again. Eat if you want. Or don’t. - Simon

Nahyuta smiled despite himself. He’d planned to fall straight into bed with the hope of waking up with a clearer mind in the morning, but he supposed it couldn’t hurt to stay up a tad longer to eat. He realized, belatedly, that he’d also skipped dinner.

He took the plate to the microwave, removing the plastic film to reheat it. Once it was done, he grabbed a pair of chopsticks and settled down at the counter to eat. He ate quickly, the food bringing the hunger he’d been ignoring to the forefront of his mind.

When he’d finished, he washed the plate and retreated to his room. As he slipped between the covers, he realized that he felt just a little bit calmer. Only marginally, but it was there. He thought, vaguely, that he should find some way to thank Simon before he drifted off to sleep.

Chapter Text

July 19^th , 10:00 AM

Los Angeles Prosecutor’s Office

“Prosecutor Blackquill. Do you have the capacity to take on another case?”

Simon looked up from his desk to see Chief Prosecutor Edgeworth hovering at his office door. He blinked slowly.

“I could probably squeeze another in if needed, sir.” Simon said, putting his pen down next to the paperwork he’d been filling out.

Edgeworth nodded. “Good. I’m assigning another prosecutor to this case as well, so hopefully it won’t be too heavy of a lift.”

Simon raised one eyebrow.

“You’ll be working with Prosecutor Sahdmadhi.” he clarified. “There’s actually two defendants in this case— possibly a team that was working together, or possibly one guilty party trying to shift blame to the other. I’m unsure how this case will play out, so I want one of you on each of them.”

Simon nodded. “Makes sense. I’ll be sure to touch base with him.”

“Excellent. Thank you, Blackquill. I do appreciate it.”

“Of course, sir. It’s no problem.”

Edgeworth gave him a tight lipped smile before turning away and heading back down the hallway. Simon sat back in his chair, processing this new development.

He’d never worked with the Sad Monk before. The only case they’d shared had been Bucky’s, and Simon had been… on a leave of absence from the prosecutor’s bench for that one. He couldn’t deny that the prospect excited him a little— Nahyuta would be a useful ally. Irritating as Simon may have found him, he was a still a top notch international prosecutor. He’d be a fool to scoff at his help.

Simon turned to his computer, pulling up his inbox. Edgeworth, efficient as always, had already forwarded him the existing case notes and preliminary police findings.

He opened the first file and began to read. As he scanned through witness statements, crime scene photos, and a preliminary autopsy report, the details of the incident slowly came into focus.

The victim was one Esther Eggertsen, a worker at a garment factory that made aprons. She had been found dead on the factory floor in the early hours of the morning by a security guard. There was a length of raw fabric found around her neck; she’d been strangled with it sometime the night before. Other factory workers confirmed that the fabric was the same kind that they regularly worked with. 

A weapon of opportunity perhaps? Simon glanced over the pictures of the fabric one more time. It was an off-white color, maybe eight feet long, with wrinkles and creases concentrated in one area— likely the length that was wrapped around Esther’s throat.

The police had identified two suspects: Bobby Taft, the factory foreman, and Freddy Hartley, the company’s head accountant. They had been the last two seen in the building the night of the murder, with Taft conducting final rounds on the factory floor and Hartley staying late to wrap up the biweekly balance sheet. Multiple employees report seeing them still in the building around 7pm, though no one saw them any later. Taft and Hartley themselves claim not to have seen each other. 

The evidence was fairly clear. Taft’s DNA had been found on the ends of the fabric garrote, and the tops of his shoulders bore fresh scratch marks. It was feasible that Esther, in her distress, had reached behind her while being strangled and succeeded in scratched her attacker’s shoulders as she flailed about.

Meanwhile, Hartley’s movements were incredibly suspicious. He should have been in the office the whole night, up until he left; as an accountant, he had no business in the factory itself. However, security cameras in the hallways captured him leaving the upper floor and heading in the direction of the factory at just after 8pm. Unfortunately, no footage could be found of him entering the factory, or leaving the premises; the factory’s security footage had been wiped. Hartley, if he was the culprit, had been smart enough to do that— but he hadn’t accounted for the security camera in the building. He’d also left fingerprints behind on the door of the security office. The guard who was supposed to be on duty had apparently been elsewhere, but she’d been smart enough not to touch the scene once she realized things had been tampered with.

There wasn’t actually any evidence tying the two of them together, besides the fact that both had acted suspiciously and both had had the opportunity to commit the crime. Simon suspected that both of them were up to no good that night— he just couldn’t say what sort of no good, exactly. Both had certainly acted abnormally; now he needed to figure out why.

Sighing, Simon stood up from his desk chair, arms reaching up as he stretched. He wasn’t going to get much done sitting here— the files were a good start, but he always preferred investigating first hand if he was able. Plus, he needed to go coordinate with Prosecutor Sahdmadhi so they didn’t double up on their efforts.

Grabbing his coat from the back of his chair, Simon slid it on, tugging his hair out from where it snagged beneath the collar. He walked over to his office window, cracking it open so Taka could leave whenever she wished. Currently, she was resting on her perch in the corner of the office, but Simon wasn’t sure how long he’d be, so he liked to make sure she wasn’t trapped.

Satisfied with the state of his office, Simon headed down the hallway towards the office of one Prosecutor Nahyuta Sahdmadhi. He glanced through the small window set into the wall next to the door, noting that Nahyuta was in. He could see the Sad Monk sitting at his desk, lavender head bent over as he examined something. Simon smirked when he saw Nahyuta jump slightly at the sound of his knock. 

Heh. He’s like a skittish little deer, how he freezes up at sudden noises. 

“Come in!” Nahyuta’s melodic voice called out, pulling Simon from his musings. He pushed the door open and stuck his head in.

“Sad Monk. You have a minute to touch base on the Eggertsen case? I assume the Chief Prosecutor’s brought you up to speed as well.”

“Good morning to you too, Panda.” Nahyuta said, smiling testily. “I suppose I could take a few moments out of my busy schedule to humor you. What is it you need?”

Simon shrugged. “Just wanted to let you know I’m headed to the crime scene. I prefer to conduct my own investigation when possible. I’m not sure how you usually do things, though, and I don’t want to double up on efforts. You have any preference?”

Nahyuta tilted his head to one side. “I usually try to visit the crime scene as well, if I can. I’d planned to head over there later this afternoon.”

Simon nodded. “Alright. Perhaps we should coordinate and go together. That way we can easily split the work.”

“Hm. I usually investigate alone, but I suppose that makes sense. I’d be amenable.” Nahyuta said, brushing a stray bit of hair back from his face. “I’d like to finish the paperwork first, though— could you wait, say, 30 minutes?”

“Sure,” Simon said. “I can go get my car. Meet you around front?”

Nahyuta nodded absently, his gaze already turned back down to the papers in front of him. Simon rolled his eyes at the obvious dismissal and went to retrieve his car.

Fifteen minutes later, Nahyuta Sahdmadhi slid into the passenger seat of Simon’s car, carefully pulling the ends of his scarf into his lap before closing the door. Simon glanced down at the dashboard clock.

“Thought you said half an hour, Sad Monk.”

Nahyuta shrugged. “It was simpler than I anticipated.”

Simon grunted in response, shifting the car into drive and pulling out of the prosecutor’s office parking lot.

The drive to the factory was quiet but not uncomfortable. Simon kept his focus on the road while Nahyuta reviewed case documents from the passenger seat, asking the occasional question but generally keeping to himself. As it was mid-morning, there weren’t too many other cars about. They’d hit the sweet spot just between morning rush hour and lunch traffic, allowing them to weave quickly through the city streets. 

Eventually, the scenery morphed from shiny billboards and four-lane highways to smaller, more modest buildings set farther apart, then to open landscapes that revealed distant views of the mountains. As they made their way out of the city, Simon noted that the sounds of shuffling and flipping pages had slowed, then ceased altogether. Out of the corner of his eye, he snuck a glance over to the passenger side, wondering if Nahyuta had simply finished reviewing the case.

Next to him, Nahyuta was staring out the window, papers left abandoned in his lap. His features were warmly lit by the morning sun, the jade of his eyes even brighter than normal as his gaze ran over the mountain tops. He was toying with the end of his braid, long fingers twisting and twirling the lilac strands. He had a strange expression on his face; nostalgia, perhaps? Simon couldn’t quite place it. 

Simon returned his gaze to the road— he was a responsible driver, after all. But the image of Nahyuta, haloed by sunlight, remained in his mind’s eye. He looked… peaceful, almost. Not the serene sort of peace that came with his monk persona, though; it was less guarded and more content. A man enjoying a quiet moment rather than one trying to hide behind a mask of indifference. Simon rather liked seeing him like that. 

“It reminds me of home,” Nahyuta said.

Simon glanced back over at him, raising one eyebrow questioningly. “The mountains, you mean?”

“Yes,” Nahyuta said. “They aren’t quite the same, but they remind me of the mountains in Khura’in. It pleases me to see them.”

“They certainly are a sight.” Simon agreed. 

 “LA is so big,” Nahyuta said, “I often forget that it’s surrounded by nature. In Khura’in, you can see the mountains everywhere, even from the capital city. It’s impossible to miss them. But here… the skyscrapers block them out. I wonder if people who lived here years ago would have thought it even possible. For men to overcome mountains.” 

"I suppose we never really know what we're capable of," Simon replied.

Nahyuta hummed in agreement. "I wonder what it'll look like another hundred years from now."

Simon shrugged. "Guess we'll never know."

Nahyuta nodded absentmindedly, his thoughts clearly elsewhere. Simon smiled to himself; for a prosecutor whose work and appearance were always so immaculate, he seemed to lose his head to the clouds rather often. It was... endearing. Not that Simon would ever admit that to his face, though. Or to anyone's face.

Pushing those thoughts aside, Simon refocused his attention on the road, where it should have been the whole time. They spent the rest of the drive in relative silence; at some point, Nahyuta returned his attention to the files in his lap. Simon glanced over at him a few times, unable to help his curiosity; he appeared to be concentrating, though his face was hidden behind a curtain of hair. Once, he looked over at the same time Nahyuta went to tuck his hair back behind one ear and for a brief moment, their eyes met. Nahyuta looked vaguely amused, and Simon quickly looked away, suddenly embarrassed and not sure why. He was just... making sure he was doing alright. That was a normal thing to do when driving someone somewhere, wasn't it? 

After that, though, Simon kept his eyes strictly on the road. After a while, he spied a sign indicating that "Buster's Fabric Factory" was located at the next exit. Not long after taking it, they came across a large, industrial-looking building just off the side of the road, with a smaller building set off to the side-- the factory and company office, Simon figured.

Simon pulled in to the parking lot, coming to a stop in front of the smaller building. It was gray and nondescript, with a worn-looking sign above the door that said "Main Office". Simon figured that was as good a place as any to start. He put the car in park and stepped out, stretching his arms up above his head. He always felt a little cramped after long car rides; he didn't like being forced into the same position for so long, even if it was a comfortable seat. He tilted his head, his neck cracking loudly. He noted how Nahyuta's nose wrinkled in response as he closed the passenger door behind him.

"Panda, if you break your own neck out here, I will not be dragging your body back to the prosecutor's office."

Simon laughed. "Don't worry about me, Sad Monk. This neck's been through a lot, it can handle it."

Nahyuta pursed his lips, unconvinced. He turned his attention to the building in front of them, gaze scanning the unremarkable exterior. 

"Let's get going then," he said, walking around the front of the car towards the door. Simon followed, casting one last glance over the parking lot. There were only a handful of other cars, some police vehicles-- he'd guess there weren't many employees around, given they wouldn't be permitted to work at an active crime scene. 

His assumption proved to be correct. As they walked through the front door of the main office, there wasn't a person in sight. Simon thought that was a little odd; why had the office been left unlocked? Weren't there supposed to be police guarding the scene?

"Oh, and I suppose you two are here to tell me how to do my job, too." A nasally voice cut through the air.

Simon turned, unsure where the voice had come from. 

"Ha! You can't even figure out where I am. Hardly security guard material, if you ask me."

Simon glanced up, noticing a small brass intercom speaker set into the wall next to a domed security camera.

"Ma'am, please come out," he said. "We're with the prosecutor's office. Are you the security guard that was on duty the night of the crime?"

"Like I'd tell you! You'll have to come up with something better than that to fool me. I know what prosecutors look like, and they certainly don't look like that."

Simon exchanged a glance with Nahyuta, who looked as confused as he felt. 

"Ma'am, if you come out, we can show you our credentials," Simon said. "I assure you we are actually prosecutors. Were you not told to expect us?"

"Oh ho ho, clever boy! Trying to get me to come out so you can have your wicked way with me. I think not! Just because I'm expecting someone from the prosecutor's office doesn't mean that someone is either of you."

Out of the corner of his eye, Simon noticed that Nahyuta had begun walking down the hall. He was about to ask him where he was going when the intercom screeched again.

"Hey! Where do you thing you're going, sonny? Don't you go wandering without my permission. I'll use force if I have to!"

Down the hall, Nahyuta had stopped in front of a door. He pulled it open and Simon could suddenly hear that unfortunate voice from both the intercom and the source.

"Get back! Scoundrel!" it screamed.

"Ma'am," Nahyuta said, calm but firm, "please desist. We aren't lying about who we are and we aren't here to do anything untoward. Here-- this is a copy of the warrant to search the office, signed by the Chief Prosecutor. I wouldn't have this if I wasn't associated with either the prosecutor's office or the police."

Simon, having walked down the hall during their conversation, came up behind Nahyuta so he could see past the doorway. It was clearly a security room, with an array of monitors and dashboards covered in blinking lights. In the center of the room, there sat an older woman in a blue jumpsuit. She had a strange sort of silver box strapped to her chest, and was gesturing wildly at Nahyuta with what appeared to be... a laser gun?

Nahyuta was holding out a piece of paper-- the warrant, Simon recalled-- and seemed unfazed by the strange woman. She narrowed her eyes at him, then scooted forward in her roller chair, keeping the laser gun pointed at Nahyuta as she snatched the paper from his hand.

She rolled back to her desk, squinting down at the paper. Simon wondered vaguely if she could actually read it without glasses. After a moment, the woman relaxed, tossing her laser gun over her shoulder, where it bounced off one of the dashboards.

"Oh, Edgey-poo sent you! You should have said, sillies. Though I can't imagine my darling Edgey-poo hiring such... unconventional people. Shame he couldn't come visit me himself, but at least he sent someone. Oh well!" she grinned, bright red lips stretching a bit too wide. "Wendy Oldbag, at your service."

Nahyuta inclined his head in greeting. "I'm Prosecutor Sahdmadhi, and this is Prosecutor Blackquill," he said, gesturing over his shoulder. Simon was grateful for Nahyuta's unflappable manner; he himself was still stuck processing the fact that this woman called Chief Prosecutor Edgeworth "Edgey-poo". He was fairly sure even the man's husband didn't call him pet names like that.

Shaking his head slightly, Simon refocused on the conversation. "Pleasure to meet you, ma'am. Would you be the security guard on duty the night of the crime?" he asked again.

Oldbag nodded. "Sure was! I just knew when I walked in and saw my coffee cup had been moved eight inches to the left. I always leave it in the exact same spot, so someone else must have been in the booth while I was gone. I'm certain."

"And when was this, Ms. Oldbag?"

"Oh, around 9:00 PM, I think."

"Can you tell us why you weren't in the booth yourself at that time?"

Oldbag flapped one hand in their direction. "Don't you know it's rude to ask a woman what she does at night?" 

Simon held in an exasperated sigh. "I believe it's an appropriate question given you were on duty at the time." 

The older woman scowled, crossing her arms across her chest. It took some effort, given the clunky box she had strapped to her front.

"Well!" she said, "That's presumptuous of you. It's none of your business if I stepped out for a few minutes to freshen up."

"A few minutes? What time did you leave the security office?"

Oldbag mumbled something, looking.

"Pardon?" Simon .

"I said around eight! It takes time to look this good, you know."

"So you were gone for an hour. Not a few minutes."

Oldbag scowled. "Depends on your definition of "a few", now doesn't it?"

Simon very much disagreed, but held his tongue.

"So you were away between 8:00 and 9:00 PM. What happened when you returned?"

Oldbag sniffed. "Well, like I said, my coffee was in the wrong spot, so I knew someone had been sticking their nose where it didn't belong. I was looking around to see if any of my things were missing when I saw the live feed for the factory floor and saw that girl laying on the floor. I rushed over to the factory to check if she was okay. Obviously, she wasn't, so I called 911. The police wouldn't let me back in here after that, as if I'd ever tamper with evidence. I'm a professional, you know. They don't need to tell me how to act."

"Of course," Simon said. "So the police processed this scene already."

Oldbag nodded. "They did their fingerprint dusting-- that damn powder is still all over. And they took the tapes from the night of the crime. Said they didn't need anything else, and I got a job to do, so here I am."

"It looks like you're the only employee here, though." Simon noted.

Oldbag sniffed again. "Well it's not my fault that the young'ins here have no work ethic. In my day, we showed up and clocked in, rain or shine. It's not as if the factory equipment was used in the murder. Everything is perfectly functional."

"I see," Simon said. "Well, thank you for your time. I believe that's all we need for now. We'll contact you if anything else comes up-- I assume you gave your details to the police already?"

That too-wide, bright red grin was back. "If you wanted my number, sonny, you need only ask."

"If I need it, I'll get it from the police."

Oldbag relented. "Fine, fine, your loss. I did give it to that officer, though he was too young for my tastes. Oh, and Edgey-poo has my number too, of course. So you could always ask him."

"I'll do that." Simon said, giving her a tight-lipped smile. "We'll be going now."

With that, he turned to leave, Nahyuta falling in step with him after letting the door to the security office swing closed. Once they were a reasonable distance away from the security room and its accompanying intercom, Simon turned to the other prosecutor.

“Well, that was… informative.”

Nahyuta laughed lightly. “That’s one word for it. Every time I think I’ve met the strangest person in LA, another contender shows up.”

“What, your security detail at home not have a sweet nickname for you?” Simon teased.

Nahyuta sniffed. “Certainly not. Security guards in Khura’in are far more respectful. Most of them never said a word and that was perfectly fine by me.”

“They never said a word around you, you mean.”

Nahyuta paused. “I suppose so. I expect they disliked me as much as the general population did.”

“Disliked you?” Simon asked.

Nahyuta shot him a sharp look, the barest flash of anger behind his jade green eyes. Simon frowned. A touchy subject, then.

“Well, at least they didn’t come after you with cardboard armor and laser guns.” he said, attempting to steer the conversation elsewhere.

Nahyuta’s gaze softened and he turned away.

“No,” he said, “no, they didn’t.” 

One hand came up to fiddle with the end of his lilac braid. Silence stretched between them, its presence a familiar fault line threatening to rupture at any given moment. Simon made a mental note not to bring up the other man’s native country unprompted— clearly, there was something there he didn’t know about.

After a moment, Simon cleared his throat. “Ah, you didn't have any more questions for her, did you?" he said, realizing he hadn't given the other prosecutor a chance to follow up. "I apologize, I'm not used to questioning witnesses with someone else."

Nahyuta shook his head. "No, you covered everything. I can’t say I was particularly keen to continue that conversation. It was a little strange to just stand in the background, though. I think it might be more efficient if we split up to cover the rest of the factory. I'd suggest one of us check out the crime scene, and the other stay here and look through the rest of the office."

Simon nodded. "That makes sense. Do you have any preference?"

Nahyuta hummed. "I didn't have time to review all the files on the drive here. I got through more of the ones on Taft, the foreman. I could take lead on him and examine the factory scene. You could take Hartley, the accountant, and the office."

"That all sounds good to me." Simon said. "I'll let you know if I find anything particularly of note."

"Likewise." Nahyuta said, giving Simon a curt nod before turning towards the office entrance.

Simon watched him go for a moment, his scarf fluttering over his shoulders. It occurred to Simon that he'd never retrieved the one that Taka stole-- as far as he knew, it was still sitting on her perch. He wondered how many identical white scarves the man had.

Turning away, he shook his head. Why was he thinking about that? He couldn't give a rat's ass what the Sad Monk had in his closet. He had a case to focus on. At least Nahyuta was elsewhere now-- out of sight, out of mind, right? Simon scowled, irritated at his own distraction.

He made his way down the hallway, glancing at the name plates affixed to the office doors until he came upon one labeled Fredric Hartley, Head Accountant. He paused, giving the doorknob a slight jiggle. It opened easily, to Simon's relief-- he did not want to have to go get a key from the security office. He'd be perfectly happy if he never had to interact with that woman again. She gave him the creeps.

Simon stepped inside the office, flick the light switch by the door. The office was flooded with bright fluorescent light, illuminating a simple desk and chair surrounded by a small army of metal filing cabinets. 

Wonderful, Simon thought. As if I don't get enough paperwork from the Prosecutor's Office already.

Sighing, Simon walked over to the desk, giving it a cursory once-over. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary; the desk was bare save for a mug that held an assortment of pencils and pens and an empty notepad. There was no computer, but Simon was fairly sure that was because the police had confiscated it already. He'd have to check in with the case detective later.

Turning his attention away from the desk, Simon approached the first filling cabinet. He slid open the top drawer and was greeted with a litany of folders, all stuffed near to bursting with various documents. Simon grabbed a few, taking them over to the desk. He sat down and resigned himself to a boring next couple of hours.

Not too far away, Nahyuta had located the entrance to the factory building. He ducked under the police tape and approached the officer standing next to the door. She gave him a small nod, having been expecting him. Nahyuta nodded back and took the pair of latex gloves she offered him. Pulling them on, he grasped the door's handle and entered the factory.

The first thing he noticed was the odor; it was sharp and searing, almost like bleach. Dyes, perhaps. He glanced over at the adjacent wall, which was lined with large vats containing liquids of various colors. He wrinkled his nose; it couldn't be healthy to be breathing in such fumes on a daily basis. He felt a twinge of sympathy for the factory workers.

Turning away from the dye vats, Nahyuta spotted the familiar white of a rope outline, near the middle of the factory floor. He weaved past stainless steel tables, laden with various machinery and large bolts of raw fabric, and approached the scene. 

The body had been found splayed out on the ground between two large machines. Nahyuta wasn't sure what they were, exactly, but each was loaded with one of the raw fabric bolts, and consisted of a series of large rollers. Something for ironing out the fabric, perhaps? Nahyuta couldn't really say.

He turned his attention to the rope outline on the floor. Esther had been laying on her back, spread eagle, with a length of raw fabric still around her neck. Nahyuta glanced back at the bolts of fabric and frowned, reaching into his bag to retrieve the relevant files. He pulled out the crime scene photos, flipping until he found one of the body before it was moved. As he had recalled, the length of raw fabric had been found wrapped around the victim's throat. The fabric matched that of the bolts; both were the same creamy beige, and had the same close-woven texture. 

However, that wasn't what Nahyuta was concerned with. The length of fabric in the photo was about eight feet long, but only around a foot in width. The fabric bolts on the nearby machines were much wider-- Nahyuta would guess close to a yard across. The fabric used in the murder, if it had come from these bolts, must have been cut to a smaller width in advance. That went against the theory that it was a weapon of opportunity-- Nahyuta couldn't imagine Esther giving her attacker time to sit down and trim the perfect murder weapon. It must have come from somewhere else in the factory, or otherwise been prepared beforehand.

Nahyuta frowned, returning the files to his bag. He walked slowly around the factory floor, looking to see if any of the machines used the smaller size of fabric that Esther had been strangled with. None of them did, and none of them appeared to be used to cut the fabric into smaller pieces, either. So where had that strip come from?

As Nahyuta approached the back wall of the factor, he noticed a door labeled “Storage” tucked away in one corner. Wondering if the different sized fabric could have come from there, he walked up and gave the handle a jiggle. It was locked.

That… was odd. The police should have searched the entire factory, and they shouldn’t have re-locked anything. They’d known that the prosecutor’s office would be coming by to investigate, so there’s no way they would have locked it. Had the detectives somehow missed this door? Or had someone else come back and locked it?

Nahyuta was pulled from his musing by the slight squeak of a leather boot against the floor. Thinking it was Simon, Nahyuta turned, comment about how rude it was to sneak up on him already perched on his tongue.

He never got the chance to say it. The figure behind him, he belatedly realized, was not Simon; instead, it was a stranger clad in all black, holding aloft a sizable metal implement— an empty fabric bolt. The unknown person swung the bolt, hard, striking Nahyuta in the back of the head where he stood, mid-turn.

Nahyuta fell forward, barely managing to brace himself as he tumbled, falling flat on the ground. Vision blurring, he vaguely registered the sight of a black pair of shoes stepping over him, towards the storage room. The last thing he heard before slipping into unconsciousness was the soft click of a door being unlocked.

Simon, meanwhile, was having a grand old time in the head accountant’s office. He’d gone through dozens of files at this point and had the paper cuts on his fingers to prove it. Nothing seemed untoward, not even a little. It was all invoices and archived ledgers, copies of receipts and payroll. Standard business stuff.

Simon had been about to give up when he noticed a cardboard box sitting in the corner of the room, mostly hidden behind the filing cabinets. He reached down, picking it up. It was surprisingly heavy— full of documents perhaps? He carefully removed the lid, looking down to find… another ledger?

Frowning, Simon pulled out the thick tome. It was leather-bound, like the others he’d already looked through, one for each year. This one, though, didn’t have a year embossed on the spine. Curious, Simon cracked it open, half expecting it to be a blank version intended for use the following year.

However, the first page wasn’t blank. It had a year written in neat print on the top line— the current year. That… didn’t make sense. Simon returned to the desk, where he had already reviewed the current year’s ledger. He flipped back to the front page and double checked. The year listed was this year. There were two ledgers for the current year. That was extremely suspicious.

Settling back down at the desk, Simon placed the two ledgers side by side, opening each to the most recently logged page. He scanned them, comparing numbers. Sure enough, they were different. The original ledger that Simon had reviewed showed greater expenses than the one from the cardboard box. He could see that a few of the entries differed just slightly— a shipment costing $2000 in the original ledger was only $1,000 in the other. Comparing the year to date totals, Simon calculated a difference of about $50,000.

Well. Turned out his paper cuts weren’t for nothing after all. Simon had been a prosecutor long enough to know when someone was cooking the books— and Freddy Hartley was definitely an amateur chef. He’d been charging extra and pocketing the difference, Simon would bet. Strange, though, that he kept an actual ledger, too. Why did he need to keep track of the actual totals? Surely the existence of such a thing could only serve as evidence against the man.

Simon shook his head, unsure if the witness had an ulterior motive for keeping the genuine ledger, or if he was just not the sharpest tool in the shed. Maybe he’d wanted to keep track of how much he was taking? There must be easier (and less incriminating) ways, though.

Simon stood up from the chair, stretching out his shoulders and neck. As he cracked his spine, he recalled that Nahyuta was at the crime scene, too. He’d been deep in the files and had lost track of time— he’d been here at least a few hours. He should probably check on the other prosecutor.

Simon squinted as he walked out of the office, the afternoon sun’s brightness a sharp contrast to the dim office lighting. He glanced around, 

Simon glanced around, seeing nothing out of place except the factory’s side door, which was hanging ajar. The police tape that had been around it was torn, and the officer meant to be guarding it was nowhere in sight. He hurried towards the factory, noticing as he got closer that the policewoman was in fact still there; she was collapsed in a lump on the ground, not moving. Ice ran through Simon’s veins. He rushed to the officer’s side, gently shaking her shoulder. He couldn’t see any obvious injuries; had she just fainted for some reason? 

Beneath his hand, the officer’s shoulder shuddered slightly. She let out a small groan, much to Simon’s relief. 

“Ma’am, are you okay? What happened?” he asked.

The policewoman tried to sit up but made it only a few inches off the ground before her face screwed up in pain and she lay back down with a grunt. That wasn’t a good sign.

“Actually, never mind, you can tell me later. Let me call 911.”

Pulling out his phone, Simon dialed the familiar number as he entered the factory. He felt bad leaving the officer on her own, but he had other matters to attend to. Notably, figuring out where the hell Nahyuta was.

A quick scan around the room revealed no trace of the other prosecutor. Simon frowned, weaving his way through the aisles of machinery, explaining the situation to the emergency line operator as he went. Once he’d confirmed that an ambulance was on its way, he hung up, focusing fully on investigating the factory.

With each empty aisle, he could feel that panic in his chest rising. He smothered it quickly— he might feel scared on instinct, but he knew how to keep that feeling from controlling him. Panicking now wouldn’t do anyone any good. He had to keep a level head.

Simon was nearly ready to give up and start searching outside the factory when a flash of silver caught his eye. At the end of the aisle, Simon could just see that it was a metallic hair clasp, wrapped around a the end of a lilac braid.

He hurried down the aisle, weaving carefully between some of the larger machines. Behind the last machine on the row was Nahyuta, lying motionless on the floor. He was face down, cheek pressed to the floor and braid flung off to the side. His arms were awkwardly braced on either side as if he’d been shoved and tried to catch himself but didn’t quite manage. 

“Sad Monk, you’d better not be dead,” Simon muttered under his breath, more to himself than anything. He knelt down next to Nahyuta and pressed two fingers against the side of his neck, checking for a pulse. To his relief, he found a steady rhythm, perhaps a little fast, but definitely there. He briefly considered trying to move him somewhere more comfortable, but decided he didn’t want to risk making things worse. 

Rocking back, Simon considered the scene. It was unsettling, seeing Nahyuta like that. He was always so put together, so carefully curated; seeing him splayed out awkwardly on the concrete floor was like looking down at an expensive meal someone dropped, laying ruined on the ground with shards of broken ceramic poking out. He simply didn’t belong in that state.

Simon had the distinct sense that Nahyuta would hate being seen in such a position, even if he had no say in how he got there. Sighing, he knelt back down next to the man, who was still out cold. He reasoned moving him a little bit probably couldn’t hurt; besides, weren’t you supposed to turn people on their side if they passed out? So they don’t choke on their own vomit or something? 

Simon doubted that was much of a concern, but figured it might also be a good idea in case Nahyuta’s head injury was on his forehead, currently hidden against the floor. Gently, he grasped one shoulder and carefully rolled Nahyuta onto his side. No obvious injuries, on his face or otherwise— that was good. Simon slipped off his coat and folded it a few times, then tucked it carefully beneath Nahyuta’s head to elevate it. He had a small smudge of dirt on one cheek from the floor. Simon carefully ran his thumb over the spot, brushing the debris away.

There. That was a bit better; now he looked like he could be sleeping. Simon hoped the other man wouldn’t be too upset at being lightly manhandled in the name of… safety? Dignity? He wasn’t really sure why, but he felt marginally better now that Nahyuta wasn’t face down on the floor.

Reluctantly, Simon stood, glancing around the factory once again. He pulled out his phone, this time using it to take a few photos of the scene around Nahyuta. Nothing looked particularly out of place, but it couldn’t hurt to document. 

As he turned to face the back wall of the factory, Simon noticed that the door to a storage room was just a few feet from where he’d found Nahyuta. He walked over and was about to try the handle before thinking better of it. He paused, hand hovering just over the knob. He wasn’t wearing gloves, and this was now a crime scene, twice over. It’d be best if he waited for forensics. 

A small groan pulled his attention back to Nahyuta, who was beginning to stir. He returned to the other man’s side, a wave of relief washing over him.

“Woah, woah, Sahdmadhi, take it easy,” he said, stooping to catch Nahyuta’s shoulder as he immediately tried and failed to sit up.

Nahyuta let out a small grunt of pain and relented, placing his head back down on Simon’s hastily folded coat.

“What… what happened?” He managed, squeezing his eyes shut again. “Fuck, my head…”

“I’m not sure,” Simon replied, shifting so he could sit on the floor next to Nahyuta. “I just found you like this a few minutes ago. Ambulance is on its way.”

“Oh, I don’t—“

“Yes, you do, Sad Monk, you can’t even sit upright.”

It was a testament to how badly Nahyuta was feeling that he didn’t berate Simon for interrupting him or try to argue with him further.

“… Fine. Okay, that’s. Okay,” he said instead.

Simon laughed lightly. “Don’t force yourself to talk. Your brain’s handled more than enough for today, I think.”

“Mmph,” Nahyuta said, features pinched. Simon resisted the urge to reach out and smooth the wrinkle between his brows. Instead, he moved the hand that was still resting on Nahyuta’s shoulder and used it to carefully brush a few sweat-stuck strands from his forehead. There wasn’t much Simon could do to help, but he could at least make sure the man’s hair was out of his face.

Nahyuta let out a small, breathy moan as his fingers made contact with his skin. Simon froze, his fingers still rooted in Nahyuta’s hair.

“Mm, cold. Feels nice.” Nahyuta murmured softly, leaning into the touch. 

Simon felt heat rising to his cheeks as the other man practically nuzzled into his hand. After a moment, he tentatively stroked Nahyuta’s hair again, letting his knuckles brush against his warm, slightly sweaty brow. He seemed pleased with this development, so Simon absentmindedly kept doing it until the paramedics arrived.

They startled him, slightly— he’d somehow missed the sound of the sirens as well as their approaching footsteps. He explained the situation as best he could, though he didn’t have a lot of details. The paramedics moved Nahyuta to a stretcher, carefully wheeling him out of the factory and into the ambulance next to the officer on duty, who had been given a similar treatment. Simon trailing awkwardly behind, clutching his now-wrinkled coat in front of him.

He inquired which hospital the paramedics were taking them to and quickly jotted down the details. He’d follow along later— Nahyuta probably wouldn’t be properly conscious for a while, so Simon likely had time to collect a few things before he headed to the hospital. 

He returned to the office, ignoring the security guard as she jabbered something about “all this darn excitement” in his ear as he passed. Back in Hartley’s office, he gathered the two ledgers and slipped them into evidence bags, carefully filling out the labels to follow chain of custody. He also spoke with the officers who’d arrived alongside the EMTs, instructing them to process the area of the factory where he’d found Nahyuta and to let him know immediately if they found anything.

Satisfied that the scene was being handled, Simon slid into his car, throwing the evidence bags into the passenger seat. He punched the hospital's address into his phone, glancing over the route before peeling out of the factory parking lot. The ride back into the city was quiet, a far cry from the journey out. Simon usually enjoyed being alone, particularly while driving. It helped him clear his head, and the freedom to go wherever he wished held a certain sweetness, one that he’d craved for so many years and been denied. 

Today, though, the silence had soured. Simon found the emptiness near unbearable; there was too much space, too many directions for his mind to run in. He tried to focus on driving, but the road simply wasn’t stimulating enough to hold his attention. He kept thinking of Nahyuta, how wrong he’d looked splayed out on the floor. 

He’d only seen one other person look like that, lying prone in a position so fundamentally, disturbingly unlike them, and he’d spent seven years in prison for it. 

Nahyuta isn’t dead, though, he reminded himself. He’s probably concussed, at worse. 

Simon took a deep breath in and let it out slowly, shaking his head. He’d be fine as soon as he saw the other man alive and well. Right now, his mind had dropped him in the same box as Metis, and despite the irrationality of it, he couldn’t shake the viscous dread clinging to his stomach. He needed proof that he was wrong, that his last image of Nahyuta would not be his motionless body face down on concrete. Simon pressed his foot down a little harder, watching the needle displayed in front of him creep slowly past the speed limit. 

He hated how much it bothered him. 

Chapter Text

July 19th, 11:00 PM

LA General Hospital

Simon had been sitting here for hours.

Well, not just here. He'd only been in this particular seat for the past two; before that he'd been fighting various doctors and nurses in the waiting room. Normally, he hated to be difficult (outside of court, at least). He didn't like making people's jobs harder. But the truth was, he wasn't in the most rational state of mind, and he had really needed to see the Sad Monk to confirm he was still in the land of the living. Plus, he was worried for his safety-- they didn't know who had attacked him at the factory, and after the Phantom, Simon wasn't going to let some police officer he didn't know stand guard. 

So, here he was. Eventually, he'd managed to convince the hospital staff that he was there in an official capacity as a prosecutor, that he was a part of the security detail assigned to Nahyuta. This had been a bit of truth bending; he was more security-adjacent, but it hardly mattered. Simon doubted anyone on the police force would be particularly upset that one, boring security detail job had been taken off their list of responsibilities.

Nahyuta still hadn't woken. He lay reclined back in the hospital bed, hair draped loose and slightly wavy over the pillow, his braid undone by a nurse at some point. Various nodes and shunts hooked him up to a posse of machines standing vigil around him. The steady beeping of the heart monitor was oddly comforting, as was the visible rise and fall of his chest. Simon, thankfully, had calmed down quite a bit. He was grateful the monk hadn't been awake for any of it-- there was no need for the man to know what sort of state he'd put him in. He would've felt the same for any of his friends, for Athena or Klavier or even Chief Prosecutor Edgeworth.

Wait, since when had he started thinking of Nahyuta as a friend?

Simon shook his head. They lived together; they had dinner together. Of course they were friends. He hadn’t intended to befriend the man, but proximity and dislike of food waste had done him over. 

He maintained that Nahyuta was still incredibly infuriating, except that most of the time he wasn't. He was… strange, and difficult to understand, but he wasn’t bad company. He was nice, even, when he managed to relax. And he’d always been easy on the eyes.

Simon sighed, bringing one hand up to rub his brow. It was really inconvenient how people kept worming their way into his heart without his permission. He wasn't going to have any room to spare for Taka at this rate and she was not one who enjoyed sharing.

Simon was pulled from the bird apology (maybe a new perch?) already forming in his head by a faint but familiar groan. He blinked the daze from his eyes, refocusing on the man in front of him just in time to see him slowly open his own eyes. 

When Nahyuta next opened his eyes, it was to the impossibly bright light of a hospital room

Nahyuta winced, squeezing his eyelids back together. He went to move one hand up to shield his eyes, but was stopped by an unpleasant tugging sensation. Squinting down at his hand, Nahyuta was met with the length of IV tubing currently plugged into the shunt seated just below his knuckles. He grimaced and looked away. He hated needles.

Now that he was facing the other way, Nahyuta noticed that he was not alone in the room. It took him a moment to place the mass of black and white, obscured by the static at the edges of his vision. Eventually, his eyes adjusted enough for him to determine who it was.

“Panda,” he breathed without thinking.

His sight had cleared enough for him to see the other man raise an eyebrow in response.

“Welcome back, Sleeping Beauty.” Simon said. “You were out for a while there.”

Nahyuta groaned, squeezing his eyes shut again as pain suddenly pulsed through his head.

“I wish I was still out,” he griped, bringing his non-shunted hand up to rub at his temple. “What in the name of the Holy Mother happened?”

“Well,” Simon said, “we aren’t too sure. The cops tried to pull the surveillance footage, but it wasn’t saved since the tapes they usually use were taken by the prosecutor’s office already. There was only the live feed, and it seems that useless security lady wasn’t paying any attention. I was hoping you might remember something.”

Nahyuta frowned. “There was someone behind me. I thought it was you at first, but I think it’s safe to assume that I was wrong. If you wanted to kill me, there’s certainly easier ways than hitting me over the head at our crime scene.”

Simon snorted. “True. I do know where you live, after all.”

“Well, not everyone has that luxury.” Nahyuta said, forehead crinkling as he grimaced. “Shame they didn’t manage to actually kill me or Rayfa could show you exactly what happened.” 

Simon looked at him strangely; Nahyuta belatedly remembered that American courts don’t have divination séances. 

“… Never mind. I don’t remember any identifying marks; they were wearing all black, I think. I’m not sure what they hit me with, either, but I’d guess a spare piece of factory equipment.”

Simon nodded. “There was an empty fabric bolt off to your side. No fingerprints, but it matches the shape of your bruise.”

Nahyuta frowned, reaching back to touch the back of his head, fingers carding through his loose hair. He was vaguely wondering how his braid had come undone when his fingers made contact with the tender flesh and he let out a sharp hiss. Damn, that smarted.

“Don’t worry, Sad Monk, it’s not serious. Doc says you’re fairly lucky— the blow didn’t hit any of the more delicate parts of your skull. You’re a bit concussed, but not in any serious danger.”

“You’ll have to forgive me if I don’t feel particularly lucky at the moment.” Nahyuta said, closing his eyes again. Next to him, he could hear Simon chuckle. 

“Fair. Did you find anything else in the factory? Before the incident, that is.”

“And here I was about to tell you all the things I discovered while unconscious,” Nahyuta said dryly. “But no, not really. I was trying to find where the fabric that was used as the murder weapon came from. It’s the same cloth that the factory uses, but it’s less wide than anything I could find on the machines.”

Simon frowned. “We found a small bolt of it sitting next to one of the machines near you.”

Nahyuta’s eyes flashed open. “What? Where?”

“Uh, here,” Simon said, not sure why Nahyuta was so bothered. “I have some photos of the scene.” 

He pulled out his phone, tapping the Photos app and finding the right shot. It showed one of the long tables set up in the corner of the factory, bare save for a single bolt of fabric sitting near one edge. “Just there,” he said, tilting the phone screen so Nahyuta could see.

Nahyuta leaned over, close enough for his loose hair to brush against Simon’s arm, now bare thanks to the coat he’d sacrificed to the factory floor. Simon tensed slightly as goosebumps radiated from the spot; he’d forgotten he wasn’t wearing long sleeves. He didn’t usually like having his wrists visible, and the sensation of Nahyuta’s soft hair against the scars made him uneasy.

Nahyuta, thankfully, was too busy peering at the photo to notice Simon’s reaction. He squinted at the screen, frown deepening.

“That wasn’t there earlier,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m sure of it.”

Simon opened his mouth to clarify, but Nahyuta beat him to it.

“I know I have a head injury, but I’m absolutely certain. I searched every machine in that factory looking for that bolt size. There’s no way I would have missed it just sitting out like that.” he insisted.

Simon held up his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright I believe you,” he said. “I was only going to ask if you noticed anything missing. Figure if something appeared, something else might’ve disappeared.”

“Oh,” Nahyuta said, surprise coloring his voice. “Right, well. I don’t think anything is missing. There wasn’t really much else out on the counters like that.”

Simon nodded. “Okay. Is there anything else you remember that might be relevant?”

Nahyuta paused for a moment, mulling over the afternoon in his mind. 

“The door,” he said, “the door in the back, it was locked. That was what I was looking at before I was knocked out. I thought it was odd that the police hadn’t left it open.”

“Locked?” Frowning, Simon reached for his laptop, which he’d been reviewing the case file on while waiting for Nahyuta to wake up. He powered it back on and navigated quickly to the report the lead investigator had sent him an hour or two earlier.

“It wasn’t locked after we found you,” he said. “It’s a storage room of some sort.”

“Was it locked during the original investigation?”

Simon scanned the report for a minute then let out a sigh. “Don’t know. There’s no mention of it in those reports. Seems like our friends on the force missed it.”

Nahyuta closed his eyes, an irritated expression crossing his face. “Of course they did. I swear they only ever fumble the important things.”

Simon shrugged. “So you’re saying the person that attacked you also unlocked the storage room?”

“It’s possible.” Nahyuta said. “They could have hidden evidence in there after the murder and come back to retrieve it. I was probably just in the way.”

Simon nodded. “That would make sense. I wonder if there’s anyone who works in the factory that could tell us if anything is missing. I’ll ask around.” 

Nahyuta pursed his lips. “Wait… weren’t both suspects in police custody at the time? Could we be dealing with an accomplice?”

Simon sighed. “The cops fumbled that one, too. They arrested the accountant, Hartley, but somewhere along the chain of command they lost the bit about arresting the foreman, too. Taft’s in custody now, but he wasn’t earlier. Says he was at home alone, but who’s to say if that’s true.”

“So is he our prime suspect now?” Nahyuta asked.

Simon shook his head. “No, it’s equally possible that Hartley had an accomplice. Plus, I found some suspicious stuff in his office. It looks like he was skimming company funds for his own purposes. Our victim could’ve found out and that’s why she had to be killed.”

“We couldn’t just get a simple case, could we?” Nahyuta sighed, tilting his head back and wincing as his injury pulsed.

“‘Course not. Edgeworth has a sixth sense for which cases are going to go off the rails. That’s why he assigned both of us.”

“Remind me to decline next time he requests I do joint prosecutorial work.”

Simon snorted. “Then you’ll just be dealing with the wacky cases on your own. Unfortunately, Edgeworth always gives the complicated ones to his more competent prosecutors. If you want to avoid them, you’ll have to get worse at your job.”

Nahyuta sighed. “Sometimes, I wish I was. Holy Mother knows the world might be a better place.”

The air of the room soured at his words. Simon couldn’t tell how serious the Sad Monk was being; they had been joking around, but that last statement had sounded overtly genuine.

“Ah, I apologize,” Nahyuta said, “I’m not sure why I said that.”

“Do you think that’s really true?” Simon asked before he could think better of it.

Nahyuta gave him a sharp look. “Of course it’s true. You do know how I started my prosecutorial career, don’t you?”  

Simon nodded.

Nahyuta let out a long exhale. “You and nearly the entire international legal community. I’m honestly shocked they still let me stand behind the bench after what I did.”

A moment stretched between them. Simon wasn’t sure how to respond; the other man was rarely so forthcoming. Maybe it was the head injury?

“That’s why I left Khura’in, you know. I couldn’t bear to show my face there anymore,” Nahyuta said, the words continuing to tumble out. “How much do you know about what happened in Khura’in?”

“Athena told me about it in a nutshell. You were a double agent of sorts under the last queen’s regime.” Simon stated.

Nahyuta laughed, starting to sound a little maniacal. “That’s one way to put it. I’d say I was closer to a turncoat of the revolution. I was one of her lead prosecutors, a symbol of her blood-soaked legacy. I was responsible for the guilty sentences that got innocent people — defense lawyers, and probably others — killed. I couldn’t face the people of Khura’in knowing I was responsible for the deaths of the people they loved. Besides, they’ve always hated me, even before I started prosecuting.”

Simon stayed silent, deciding to let the other man say his piece. It sounded like this was something Nahyuta had been carrying for a while.

Nahyuta continued. “That’s why I became a monk, you know. My plan was always to change things from inside Ga’ran’s regime, but even once I finished my exams, she refused to let me prosecute. She knew that all people saw when they looked at me was my father, the man who killed their beloved queen. Never mind that I was as much that queen’s child as I was his. Everyone was suspicious of me; the police wouldn’t work with me. I realized I needed to find a way to be seen as someone else.”

“Becoming a monk was… the obvious way forward. The uniformity helped me blend in, and the whole religious dedication and piety bit made me somewhat more trustworthy. As if I’d decided to dedicate my life to the Holy Mother in recompense for my father’s sins.”

Nahyuta snorted. “That wasn’t true, of course, but I let people believe it. I wasn’t raised particularly religious, and going into the process I didn't expect it to have much of an impact on me. But it did. I'd grown up so isolated, alone in the mountains with my father as my only connection to the rest of the world. I learned everything from him, and while many of his teaching were fair and true, I'd never really challenged them. I'd fought with him, sure, but the core of his beliefs was never in question. And then I entered the monastery and everything was so very, very different."

"My father believed in action, in carving out your own space in the world. The teachings of the Holy Mother, at least as I was told, were much the opposite; your fate was predetermined, and it was your duty to follow it.”

Nahyuta looked away, a muscle in his jaw clenching. “I’ve never been strong in my convictions. The idea of fate, of a benevolent, all-knowing being who could guide me, was appealing to my younger self. I hated the uncertainty of the rebellion; how we were constantly on the move, never knowing where we' be going next. The monastery was peaceful and quiet. Every day was perfectly predictable and calm. For the first time in my life, I felt stable. I felt like I was in control."

"That made me question my entire reality. Why was I working towards the world my father wanted, when his world was so uncertain and chaotic? Was the world as it was not enough? What gave him the authority to decide that the world should be so different?"

"Of course, I wasn’t really in control. Not at all. Ga’ran had a hand in the teachings I was given, in the teachings of all of the monks. Her influence was unescapable, though at the time I had no idea it was even there. She focused heavily on the Holy Mother's teachings that emphasized her larger plan, that chastised the individual for putting themself above the whole. Of course, Khura'inism teaches much more than that, and it certainly doesn't believe itself to be above criticism. Nor does it back the iron fist that Ga'ran ruled with. But I wasn't taught those things; I was instructed on the passages which condemned those who thought only of themselves and their own goals. I began to feel as though my father was selfish; as if his desire to change the system was only so he could have things the way he wanted."

"By the time I left the monastery, Ga'ran had me right where she wanted me. She'd shown me just the right things to make me question my own, or rather my father's, principles. She twisted the traditional teachings to fit her own needs. She put herself, as the queen, in the center of it all, as the true voice of the people. Of course, she was never really thinking about anyone but herself, but she was so very good at making everything she did seem like it was for the good of the country."

"It’s no excuse for what I did, but I hardly became Ga’ran’s puppet willingly. She knew I was alone and confused and she took advantage of that to twisted me into someone that fit her needs. I fought her, at first, despite my growing misgivings about my father. But my will didn’t last very long. Half of the manipulation was through subtle nudges like the religious teachings, and the other half was through sheer terror. She wasn’t afraid to be violent and punished me severely whenever she saw fit."

"And I was… so scared for Rayfa. For what she might do to her if I ever stepped out of line. I couldn’t let her end up with a life like mine; I couldn’t leave her to become Ga’ran’s sole target. So, after a while, I stopped fighting. I let Ga’ran in, began to listen to her insidious words. She convinced me to become the very thing I’d vowed to end."

"Even the Defense Culpability Act... when she explained it, she made it seem necessary, like it was for the good of the kingdom. Khura'inism teaches about rebirth, about the Twilight Realm and the existence of the spirit after death; physical death is not so absolute. It also teaches that each life is precious, but Ga'ran focused only on the idea of salvation through rebirth. By the end, I was truly convinced that by executing criminals, we were freeing them to another life in the Twilight Realm where they could be redeemed. I deluded myself into believing that we were doing was right, that I wasn’t a monster. But the truth is, I was.”

Nahyuta’s brow furrowed, his eyes dark. “It is kinder, I think,” he said, "that the people of Khura'in should never have to see the man that brought so much ruin to their country again." 

He paused for a moment, then laughed again. It was a sharp sound, more hysterical than joyful.

“I don’t know why I’m telling you all this. You certainly don’t care. You’re one of the only people who can stand to be around me for more than 5 minutes and now you probably don’t want anything to do with me. And I can’t blame you! No one could blame you!”

“Sahdmadhi,” Simon said softly, “I think you should rest.”

Nahyuta laughed. “I don’t deserve rest.”

“I disagree.”

Nahyuta continued to laugh, tears beginning to stream down his face.

Distracted by the man’s odd behavior, Simon failed to notice the increasingly fast beeping of Nahyuta’s heart monitor. He didn’t realize it until a nurse rushed into the room, syringe in hand. She injected something into Nahyuta’s IV line and waited, standing over him until his cries quieted and he slipped out of consciousness. Then, she turned to Simon.

“He shouldn’t get riled up like that,” she said. “I gave him a mild sedative, but it’s not good for him to experience that sort of distress.”

Simon only nodded, still shellshocked by the bizarre display.

The nurse sighed. “He’s on a fairly strong cocktail of drugs right now. I wouldn’t put too much stock in anything he said. We have patients start ranting about the most nonsensical things, sometimes. Sudden mood changes, too.”

“Of course. I’ll try to keep him calm. Thank you, ma’am.” Simon said, settling back into his chair. The nurse gave him a curt nod and left the room.

Simon was no stranger to maniacal ranting. He’d spent seven years in prison, after all, and that place could drive anyone mad. He knew how isolation altered the brain, how it shaped reality differently. How it warped one’s sense of wrong and right, overriding one’s moral compass with the desperate need to feel something. People, he’d found, are often more capable of horrendous acts than they think. Most have just never been pushed far enough for that to become necessary.

Simon regarded Nahyuta’s sleeping form on the bed. He hadn’t expected to learn so much about the Sad Monk today, nor had he realized the full extent of Nahyuta’s situation. He’d known the man had had some involvement in the executions under Ga’ran’s reign, but he hadn’t realized he’d directly prosecuted them. In hindsight, that seemed obvious. 

It was… messy. On one hand, what Nahyuta’d done was undeniably awful. But even so, Simon could understand why he’d done it. 

It wasn’t quite the same, but… Simon felt somewhat similarly about the Phantom. In his case, it was inaction that lead to tragedy, but the reasoning was similar. If he hadn’t lied to protect Athena, if he hadn’t interfered— maybe they would’ve caught the Phantom years ago, and who knows how many lives that might have saved. Of course, Simon didn’t know that his lies were protecting a murderer, while Nahyuta had been fully aware of the consequences of his actions. But still; he understood what it meant to be that desperate to save someone. If he’d had to chose between protecting Athena and performing in such a role… well. He’d like to say he’d act differently, but in all honesty, he wasn’t sure he would. It’s the sort of thing you can never know for sure unless it happens to you.

It was easy to look at Nahyuta’s actions and condemn him, to denounce him as an unfeeling monster. But there was so much more to the man than that. Nahyuta had done what he’d done for a good reason, and in the end he’d risked his own life trying to make things right while working to ensure Ga’ran’s downfall. Maybe his moral compass wasn’t pointed entirely in the right direction, but neither was Simon’s. Nor was anyone’s.

It’s easy to be a good person when you’ve never been put in a bad situation. It’s a lot harder when you’re dropped into something terrible and have no way to get out that would leave you with a completely clear conscience. Simon knew that all too well.

Sitting there, watching Nahyuta sleep, Simon couldn’t see the monster that Nahyuta claimed to be. He could only see a man, guilt-ridden, who’d given in to his demons years ago and now could not shake them. He saw a man who’d been forced to make choices that no one should ever have to. He saw him in all his complicated, awful glory, and he felt like he was truly looking at Nahyuta for the first time.

Chapter Text

July 20th, 5:00 PM

LA General Hospital

Nahyuta was naturally an early riser.

He supposed it was a remnant from his days at the monastery, where he was expected to be up far before the sunrise to prepare for morning prayers. He’d never had trouble with even that, though. He just wasn’t the type to sleep in.

So, when he awoke to the dusky rays of a sunset, he immediately knew that something was wrong. 

The hospital bed and beeping machines surrounding him clued him in, too, but it was mostly the sunlight.

Nahyuta blinked, slowly coming back to himself. A wave of nausea hit him as he attempted to sit up, the hospital room morphing into a swirl of bright colors. That wasn’t helping. He lay back down and shut his eyes, taking slow even breaths in an attempt to keep himself calm despite the unsettling situation.

After a few cycles of breath, the sensation passed. Nahyuta let his eyes slide open again, this time not attempting to sit upright. He focused on the ceiling directly above him, letting his gaze drift across the even white tiles. 

Okay. He was doing alright. Now… how in the name of the Holy Mother had he ended up here?

His mind answered with a flash of images— the cloth factory, the figure in black, a spectacular pain at the back of his head. Ambulance lights; an oxygen mask. People he didn’t recognize in nurse’s scrubs and lab coats. One person he did recognize, looking at him with a bizarre mix of sorrow and understanding in his eyes. 

Simon.

O Holy Mother, what had he done?

Nahyuta knew he was a lightweight; he always had been. There was more than one reason why he avoided alcohol, and about half of them had to do with the fact that one glass was more than enough to melt away his stoic monk persona. Also, he turned an awful shade of red that clashed horribly with his hair, but that was less of an issue. Evidently, pain medication had a similar effect.

Nahyuta felt increasingly ill as he recalled the unsolicited spilling of his life story to Simon, of all people. Simon, who he lived with, who he could not avoid. Simon, who had only just started tolerating him. 

Nahyuta wondered vaguely if he could convince Apollo to help him pack his things and immediately disappear of the face of the earth. Probably not.

In an attempt to take his mind off his extreme mortification, Nahyuta surveyed the room around him, careful to turn his head slowly so as not to trigger another wave of nausea. 

It was rather plain. Beige walls, a door with a small window out to the hallway. A counter stocked with various medical paraphernalia was tucked in one corner next to a small stainless steel sink. The opposite wall held a large window, its pale green curtains tied back— the source of the light that had awoken him, most likely. And in the hard plastic chair next to him, slumped over and sans his omnipresent overcoat, was Simon Blackquill.

Nahyuta’s eyes widened, not having expected the other man to still be present. But there he was, arms crossed across his chest and chin tilted down so that most of his face was obscured by his bangs. Nahyuta’s gaze lingered for a moment on his wrists, noting the ropey scars forming uneven bands around each, before moving on. He knew what it was like to have scars you didn’t want seen, and it felt like an invasion of privacy to stare. Instead, his eyes trailed up his arms, admiring the visible muscle through his thin dress shirt. 

He was loathe to admit it, but the other man was rather nice to look at. Nahyuta rarely allowed himself to stare, particularly because he did not want the panda and his weird psychology skills to pick up on the fact that he found him attractive. But here, watching him sleep and snore softly, Nahyuta let himself indulge. He followed the gradual rise and fall of his chest. He admired the way the sunlight shone of his mess of dark curls, bringing out their rich inky color. Even in sleep, Simon maintained some of his formidability; his heavy boots remained planted solidly on the floor, and his crossed arms emphasized his bulk. Nahyuta wondered what it would feel like to be held in those arms.

Simon grunted and shifted slightly, causing Nahyuta to snap his gaze away with a sharp turn of his head. He instantly regretted it as pain blossomed from the base of his skill, and he let out a sharp hiss. He raised one hand to rub ruefully at the back of his neck.

“Slept on it funny, did you Sahdmadhi?” came a deep, gravelly voice. “Tsk. And you were worried about my neck. Say what you will about prison beds, but I can sleep anywhere and wake up feeling just bloody fine.”

Nahyuta scowled, not wanting to explain that oh, I just hurt my neck craning it so I could stare at you because I’ve recently realized you’re rather handsome. “We can’t all have your invincible neck, I suppose.” he said, keeping his gaze forward. He’d learned his lesson about turning around.

Simon chuckled. “S’pose not.” From the corner of his eye, Nahyuta could see him stand and stretch, spine popping. 

“Well,” he said, “I’ll go let the nurse know you’re awake. They said you should be alright to go this morning if nothing happened overnight, and you’ve slept clear through today, so I suspect you’re fine. I’m more than ready to go home.”

He walked to the door, boots clomping heavily with each step, and exited the room without another word.

Once the door swung shut behind him, Nahyuta let out a long exhale. That hadn’t been so bad. Maybe Simon was just going to pretend he hadn’t heard Nahyuta’s pathetic drug-induced monologue.

It had been too much to hope the Panda would be so gracious.

As soon as Nahyuta had been carefully helped into his passenger seat and Simon had slid behind the wheel, he brought it up.

“I’m sure you’d rather not talk about it, but it’s going to bother me until I ask. Did you really mean all the things you said last night?”

Nahyuta sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“What business is it of yours, Blackquill?”

“Eh, it’s not. But, as they say, drunk — or in your case, drugged— minds speak sober thoughts. It seemed like you’d been waiting a long time to say that to someone.”

“I wasn’t waiting. I wasn’t planning on ever saying that to anyone in the first place. I’d be grateful if you just forgot it.” Nahyuta snipped.

They drove in silence for a few minutes after that. Nahyuta was starting to wonder if he’d taken too harsh a tone when Simon spoke again.

“You’re wrong, you know.” he said.

“Excuse me?” Nahyuta asked.

“You aren’t a monster,” Simon said. “Monsters don’t regret the hurt they cause.”

Nahyuta’s expression hardened. “And I suppose you’re an expert on the subject?”

“You could say that,” Simon said. “I’ve known a few in my time.”

“And that makes you qualified to judge me?”

“Perhaps not. But it does qualify me to understand you, at least a little.”

“Understand me? I’m sorry, Simon, but I wasn’t aware you were also an unwilling participant in state-sanctioned murder.”

“I wasn’t,” Simon said, “I think you’re probably the only one alive who can claim that. But that’s not what I meant. I meant that I understand how you got there in the first place. With Rayfa.”

Nahyuta just managed to stop himself from flinching.

Simon glanced over at him from the driver’s seat.

“You know I went to jail. Do you know what for?”

“Apollo said it was a murder you didn’t commit,” Nahyuta said, not seeing why this was at all relevant.

“Yes. I also told a lie that let a mass murderer run free for seven years,” Simon said. “I don’t know how many people he killed while I was imprisoned.”

Nahyuta was silent, eyeing Simon suspiciously as he drove.

“I know it’s not my fault they died. But I was responsible for hindering the investigation into him.” Simon continued. 

“What I did was wrong, and I knew it was wrong. But I did it anyways, because if I hadn’t, they would have blamed Athena, and I refused to let her take the fall for it. Even if it had been an accident on her part, I couldn’t subject her to the courts. Not when I knew their insidious nature. I, at least, knew the system. I could handle it.”

Simon pulled into the parking lot of their building and cut the engine. He turned to face Nahyuta. 

“I may not understand you. But I understand what it’s like to walk willingly into a prison in someone else’s place. I know how difficult it is to choose between a bad option and a worse one.”

Nahyuta’s face was a mask of calm, one Simon hadn’t seen since their initial face off in court.

“The murderer I took the fall for was a monster. Your aunt was a monster. But you and I? You and I were unwilling pawns in someone else’s game.”

“That doesn’t make us blameless. Nor does it erase the harm we caused. But it does, I think, make us redeemable. You aren’t a lost cause, Nahyuta. There’s things you can do, things you’ve already done, to make it right. But the level of self-loathing you showed me last night isn’t one of them. That’s not helping anyone. It’s just hurting you, and you don’t deserve that.”

Nahyuta’s gaze was fixed straight ahead. He refused to look at Simon.

“Unlock the door, please.” he said, voice strained.

Simon did. Without another word, Nahyuta briskly exited the car and closed the door gently behind him. Then, he turned and walked away.

Simon watched his retreating back in the rearview mirror until Nahyuta disappeared through the side door of their apartment complex. He stayed in the car for a good while, giving the other man time to go shut himself away in his room. Somehow, he doubted he’d be seeing his roommate anytime soon.

Closing his eyes, Simon let out a long sigh. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected. Of course Nahyuta was going to stonewall him. It was his defense mechanism; the hard shell he showed the world, the untouchable monk facade.

Simon wondered if he’d just ruined any chance he might’ve had at coaxing Nahyuta out from behind those walls. He hoped not, but even so, he didn’t regret his words. 

Nahyuta, it seemed, had been hated for most of his life. At first without good reason, and then with many. Simon doubted anyone in Khura’in was particularly keen to absolve him. Yet the burden of guilt that he carried was far larger than it ought to be. Simon knew what that could do to a person. 

He remembered the months he spent laying on a cot, barely moving, unable to think of anything but Metis’ limp body and Athena’s blood-coated hands, mind racing through endless scenarios where he could have prevented her death, where he took better care of Athena, where he never brought them into the Phantom’s firing line in the first place. There were so many things he could have, should have done, but didn't. He let the guilt multiply until it filled the entirety of his mind, blocking out any other thoughts. It was misery without relief. And at the time, he felt he deserved it.

His renewed search for the Phantom was what pulled him out of it. As time went on and Simon’s suspicion of the Phantom’s involvement in Metis’ death grew, he began fixating on capturing him, seeing it as his duty due to his failure to capture the Phantom initially. 

He’d pushed the guilt away in favor of obsessive investigation, but it never went away. After his and Athena’s trial, and the arrest of the Phantom, it all came back out from the shadows where he’d hidden it. Athena had helped him work through a lot of it; so had the therapist and psychiatrist he had finally caved into retaining.

The guilt was the hardest to work through. It clung in his mind like tar, but Simon had slowly learned to stop himself before he spiraled into “what ifs” that made his own decisions the catalyst for Metis’ death and subsequent events. He was still working on it, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t still haunted by everything that happened. But he was doing better.

Hearing Nahyuta spill his heart out yesterday had reminded him so very much of himself when he was at his lowest, and he couldn’t just go back to ignoring it. Nahyuta was hurling down a path of self-destruction, and Simon would be damned if he sat back and let him. Simon hadn’t made it out on his own, and Nahyuta probably wouldn’t either if left to his own devices. Simon may not be able to force him to take a lifeline, but he could certainly cast one in his direction. Several, even.

Sighing, Simon finally stepped out of the car, figuring he’d given the Sad Monk enough time to himself. He trudged up to the apartment, making plenty of noise as he came down their hallway so Nahyuta heard him coming. He opened the door to a dark kitchen and empty living room, as he expected. He could see a faint glow coming from underneath the door to Nahyuta’s room, the only sign that someone else was home. Simon peeled off his heavy boots, hung up his coat, and fell almost immediately into his bed.

This whole caring about other people thing was fucking exhausting.

Chapter Text

July 23rd, 10:00 PM

Blackquill & Sahdmadhi Residence

Nahyuta barely made it through the apartment door.

As the door slammed shut behind him, Nahyuta fell against it, back pressed to its cool, solid surface as he slid down to the floor. He felt his breath begin to quicken and bent forward, letting his head fall between his knees as the first wave of nausea hit him. His mind spun, screaming of some impossible, unreal danger that he needed to escape.

You’re safe, he reminded himself. Breathe. This will end. Just keep breathing until it passes.

He sat there for a few minutes, gasping for air, slowly coming down from the dizzying height of panic. He gathered himself, standing up from the door. He needed to get to his room, where no one would bother him, before Simon followed him in and decided to spew more nonsense about what he did or didn’t deserve. As if he knew anything at all. 

Nahyuta stumbled down the hallway, bracing himself against the wall as he went. When he finally reached his room, he collapsed immediately onto the bed, breathing heavily. There; he’d made it. No pandas in here to worry about.

Nahyuta stomach churned once again at the thought of Simon.

How dare he speak to me that way, Nahyuta thought. He has no idea what he’s talking about.

Nahyuta rolled over, curling himself into a ball on top of his covers. He reached down, fumbling with the laces of his boots until he managed to remove them. He threw them over his shoulder, not caring when they hit the wall with a loud thunk. 

Nahyuta tucked his knees up against his chest, making himself even smaller. It was something he’d done since he was a child, curling up in the oddest of places— under his bed, behind curtains, even inside a cabinet or two. There was something about the defensive posture that made him feel protected, like all the softest parts of him were hidden away where he couldn’t be hurt. His father used to laugh and say he was like an armadillo, then jump on him and tickle his sides until he relented and opened up.

The memory made Nahyuta’s chest ache. He wrapped his arms around his knees, pulling his armor even closer. There was no one to coax him out of his shell anymore, no one to make him feel like he didn’t need to be on guard at all times. His father was gone, and all Nahyuta had was the knowledge that he had spent his father’s final years hating him. Nahyuta wondered if his father was ashamed of him when he died. He probably was.

Nahyuta gasped for air, wishing he could curl up so tightly that he’d disappear entirely. He squeezed his eyes shut, welcoming the darkness as he finally lett the tears he’d been holding in for hours spill past his lash line.

What began as a slow trickle soon morphed into open sobs. Nahyuta pressed his face against his pillow to muffle them; he could not bring himself to stop. It was all too much— the attack, the hospital, the unintentional unveiling of his darkest secrets. Simon’s unexpected reaction. Nahyuta almost wished Simon had yelled at him instead, told him that he was awful and demanded that he pack his bags and get out of his sight. That, at least, would be the sort of reaction Nahyuta was used to. That he could handle.

But that wasn’t what he got. Instead, Simon had looked at him, with those sad, knowing eyes, and said he was redeemable of all things? Nahyuta didn’t have the first clue how to handle that.

Nahyuta couldn’t remember the last time someone had talked about him without barely concealed hatred in their eyes. The assumption of dislike, at the very least, was second nature at this point. He was so used to everyone reacting to his presence with such vitriol, he’d barely even noticed when he’d started doing it to himself. What better way to learn to keep calm in the face of venom than to treat himself with that same venom first? He was building up a tolerance, hurting himself before anyone else could beat him to it.

Nahyuta had long since accepted that he deserved to be hated. He accepted it, and he let it go, or at least he convinced himself that he had. Yet hearing that belief challenged at such a fundamental level had been jarring. It had thrown him completely for a loop.

Simon couldn’t possibly be right. Not about this. He barely knew Nahyuta, had never seen first hand the destruction he’d caused or faced any of the people he’d hurt. He had no right to judge him, one way or the other. He was a monster and he got what he deserved.

But what if I’m not?  

The unbidden thought broke through Nahyuta’s defenses and buried itself straight in his heart. A wave of emotion rose in his chest, and he let out a ragged sob. The very idea of it hurt, that someone could see all the terrible things he had done and come out the other side believing he wasn’t a lost cause, that he was something other a monster in monk’s clothing.

He knew that’s what people saw him as, even when they tried to hide it. He saw it in Chief Prosecutor Edgeworth’s hesitation to assign him to cases where the death penalty was a possibility. He saw it in Apollo’s eyes, late at night as they had worked on compensation deals, whenever an execution order with Nahyuta’s signature came up. It hardly mattered that most had never been carried out; he’d endorsed them, and he knew his brother could not fathom ever doing the same.

He saw it in Rayfa’s trembling hands as she signed the legislation that entitled the formerly incarcerated and their families to government compensation. She’d looked over the list of names he and Apollo had put together as a starting point and struggled to maintain her composure as she recognized names from the trials she had participated in. She never broke, not in front of him, but Nahyuta knew his sister well enough to know when she was fighting back tears. 

He saw it in the eyes of every person, ever family member, who came to the palace to claim their settlements. He apologized to each of them, said he knew this would never make up for the injustice they suffered, asked what else they could do to make it right. A few accepted his apologies, but most of his attempts were met with stony silence, the unspoken question of “why did you let this happen in the first place?” hanging heavy in the air.

Other Khura’inians, often the ones he’d directly prosecuted, were angrier. They yelled, cried, told him all the ways he could go fuck right off. Asked him how money was supposed to help when the damage already done was permanent and irreparable. Nahyuta had listened to all of it, bowing his head in shame and offering his sincerest apologies until they ran out of steam. He promised that he would step down as soon as Rayfa was older, that he understood why they were suspicious of his continued role in the new regime, and he meant it.

He resigned the day Rayfa turned eighteen. She had grown to be a careful, compassionate young woman, and it brought Nahyuta some small comfort knowing that Ga’ran, despite her best efforts, had ultimately failed to corrupt her. She would do just fine on her own; he was sure of it. Khura’in was in good hands.

The next month, alongside Apollo, he’d booked a one way ticket to LA. His brother had been surprised to learn that he didn’t plan to stay in Khura’in, but he hadn’t protested his decision.

“Won’t you miss it?” he’d asked, expression full of concern. “Of course I will,” Nahyuta replied, “but I doubt it will miss me.” Apollo had looked at him then, overwhelming pity in his eyes, and Nahyuta could hardly stand it. He’d quickly turned away and the topic was not brought up again.

There had been only one instance where Nahyuta had considered staying.

It had been at a meeting for one of the last compensation settlements. The client was an elderly woman whose son had been sentenced to life in prison but whose innocence became evident during their review of the case. He said his usual spiel to her and braced himself for her response. At this point, he believed he’d heard it all.

He was mistaken. Instead of anger, he was met with an unexpected kindness. The old woman had reached out, putting a hand on his shoulder, and responded to his confused look with a small smile. “I remember you,” she said, “from the trial. You pursued a life sentence when you could have asked for death.”

Nahyuta remembered that trial. It had been one of his earlier ones, before he had fully given over to Ga’ran’s control. He remembered she’d been furious to learn that he’d allowed “that vicious criminal” to live and “keep draining our country’s precious resources”. She’d thrown one of those resources, a traditional painted ceramic dinner plate, at him in her anger. A stray shard had sliced open his arm, just above the elbow. He still had the scar.

“I may have been away from him for the last five years, but at least I get to have him back now. That is no small thing.” the woman said with a faint smile, and Nahyuta burned.

He’d excused himself after that, retreating to one of the private gardens within the palace. He sat there, alone, for a long while, unsure how to cope with the knowledge that someone was grateful for his actions. In the end, he decided that the old woman was an exception, and anomaly— by and large, the people of Khura’in hated him, and wanted him gone. It been nice to see her smile, though. It had made him feel as though he were doing the right thing, for once.

What was it Simon that had said?

“You aren’t a lost cause, Nahyuta. There’s things you can do, things you’ve already done, to make it right. But the level of self-loathing you showed me last night isn’t one of them. That’s not helping anyone. It’s just hurting you, and you don’t deserve that,” his brain helpfully supplied.

Nahyuta forced himself to consider it. He’d never asked himself what good came from his own self-hatred; he’d merely taken it as a part of his penance, as the Holy Mother’s plan for him to repent. But… what was the point of it, really? The people he’d hurt were thousands of miles away; they weren’t made any better off by Nahyuta’s refusal to absolve himself of his guilt.

It occurred to him, for the first time, that in all he’d spent trying to earn the forgiveness of his people, he’d never once tried to earn forgiveness from himself.

Maybe Simon has a point, Nahyuta thought wearily, rolling over onto his back. The exhaustion from the day’s emotional whirlwind was finally catching up to him, and he no longer had the energy to think about it anymore. He had one final thought before he slipped into unconsciousness.

Maybe I don’t deserve this after all.

June 24TH, 8:00 AM

Blackquill & Sahdmadhi Residence

Simon was shocked to see Nahyuta the very next day.

He’d arisen earlier than usual, having succumbed to exhaustion rather early the previous night. He’d ambled into the kitchen, scrounging around for a mug and fiddling with the coffee machine. He’d just finished stirring his second spoonful of sugar into his drink (so he didn’t like his coffee bitter, sue him) when Nahyuta walked into the kitchen.

Simon nearly dropped his mug in surprise when he saw him standing there, having emerged silently from his room at some point while Simon had been making coffee. He looked awful. His face was slightly reddened, his eyes clearly puffy from crying. His hair was disheveled, still braided but with strands sticking out as if the Sad Monk had slept with it in. He was wrapped in a plush white bathrobe, clutched tightly around himself, and he wouldn’t meet Simon’s gaze.

Simon recovered quickly, moving to sit at the counter as he usually did in the mornings. He said nothing; he expected Nahyuta hadn’t realized he was in the kitchen, and would probably just pretend as if he wasn’t here. He was fine with being ignored.

Nahyuta, however, had other plans. Simon was surprised yet again when Nahyuta slid silently into the seat next to him, arms still crossed tightly across his chest.

“Hi,” he said.

Simon glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. “Hello,” he replied, tone carefully neutral.

Nahyuta swallowed. “I’m sorry I ran away last night,” he said softly.

Simon blinked. “It’s fine. I probably overstepped my bounds,” he said with a shrug, returning his focus to his coffee.

Nahyuta sniffled. “You did, but… I think it was something I needed to hear.”

Simon turned to look at him properly then, swiveling on his stool until they were face to face. Nahyuta looked even worse up close— Simon could see the bloodshot veins in his eyes and the greasy roots of his hair— but his eyes held an unexpected determination.

“Was it?” Simon asked, somewhat incredulous.

Nahyuta sighed. “Yes, Panda, it was.” he admitted. “I… suppose I convinced myself that I deserved all the bad things that happened to me. That it was the wrath of the Holy Mother.” He gave a dry, humorless laugh. “I never once considered I might be forgiven, one day.”

Simon frowned. “What changed?” 

Nahyuta looked away, his hands coming to fiddle with his already ruined braid. “I realized that it wasn’t the Holy Mother who was refusing to forgive me. It was myself.” 

Simon nodded slowly.

“I don’t really forgive myself for it all. Not yet, anyways. But I suppose I’m trying to,” Nahyuta said. “I guess what I’m attempting to say is thank you. For saying what you did.”

“Eh, it was only the truth,” Simon replied.

“Perhaps, but it was a hard truth to say aloud,” Nahyuta replied.

 “Fair. You don’t have to deal with it alone, you know.” Simon said

Nahyuta blinked. “What, do you plan on somehow dealing with it for me?”

Simon shook his head. “No. But I know a couple therapists that might.”

“Oh,” Nahyuta said, surprised. “I… hadn’t thought of that.”

“I figured you hadn’t, Sad Monk,” Simon said. “You’re too damn self reliant for your own good.”

Nahyuta felt his hackles raise at the comment, but he bit his lip and forced himself not to get defensive. “I suppose I am not… used to having anyone to rely on,” he said.

Simon shrugged. “I know the feeling.”

“How’d you get over it?”

Simon laughed. “I didn’t have much choice in the matter. Aura and Athena pretty much forced their help on me, even though I didn’t want it at the time.”

“Aura?”

“My older sister. She was the one who forced my retrial through.”

Nahyuta frowned, tilting his head to one side. “How does one force a retrial?”

“By holding the daughter of the state’s premier defense attorney hostage and threatening to kill her if they didn’t review my case.”

“Oh.”

“So, you see, I’m not exactly a stranger to people doing bad things for good reasons. I’m only alive today because she did that. And she served a good couple years for it, too.”

“Really?”

Simon nodded. “They were meant to execute me the next day. If she hadn’t interfered, I would have let them. I’d resigned myself to my fate.”

It was Nahyuta’s turn to nod. “I know the feeling,” he echoed.

Simon laughed. “I was a mess then. Completely stuck in my own little self-sacrificial world. Too used to being alone.”

He regarded Nahyuta, an idea suddenly coming to mind.

“Sahdmadhi,” he asked, “when was the last time someone hugged you?”

Nahyuta looked shocked by the question. He blinked, mulling it over for a minute before responding. 

“I’m… not really sure.”

“Hmph. You know, physical touch is supposed to be beneficial for one’s psychological wellbeing. Or so Athena tells me, every time she decides to use me as a chair.” Simon said.

Nahyuta laughed. “Of course she does. Apollo used to be really clingy, when we were kids. I always acted like I hated it but I didn’t. Not really.”

“Not to go all mushy on you, but you should hug your brother,” Simon suggested.

“Simon, I think you went mushy on me the moment you said I wasn’t a monster,” Nahyuta said.

Simon shrugged. “Can’t prove I said any of that, now can you?”

Nahyuta smiled faintly. “I suppose not.”

“Then it looks like you don’t have much a case, do you?”

“That would appear to be the case.”

“Exactly. Just go hug someone, Sahdmadhi, you’ll feel better.”

Nahyuta paused for a moment before he spoke again.

“Is this your roundabout way of asking if you can hug me, Panda?”

Simon scoffed. “Hardly. You look like a sad, wet dog is all. I feel bad for you.”

“Really? That’s a shame. I wouldn’t have said no.” Nahyuta said. He gave Simon a small shrug and went to stand up from the counter.

He was about to turn and walk away when Simon caught his wrist and tugged. A moment later, Nahyuta found himself pressed against Simon’s warm, sturdy chest.

“Just this once,” Simon said, gruffly. “You looked too bloody pathetic to refuse.”

Nahyuta let out a small laugh, wrapping his arms around Simon’s waist. “And here I thought the psychological benefits were mutual.”

He could practically feel Simon rolling his eyes as he let out a long exhale and shifted in Nahyuta’s arms. He held on to him just a fraction tighter. 

Nahyuta knew Simon was indulging him. He stood there, holding him for well over a minute. The longer they stood there, the more reluctant Nahyuta became to let go. He hadn’t hugged anyone in recent memory, probably in years, and Simon was so very warm, so solid and real and sturdy. He even smelled faintly of comforting sandalwood. 

He waited for Simon to push him away, to reach the end of his rope and extricate himself from the embrace. But he didn’t; he only stood there, his arms a comforting weight around Nahyuta’s torso. Hesitantly, Nahyuta pressed his face further into Simon’s neck, breathing him in. Simon’s only response was to nuzzle slightly into Nahyuta’s hair, just above his ear.

“Thank you, Simon,” Nahyuta said softly.

“…You’re welcome, Nahyuta,” Simon replied.

Neither of them moved for a very long while. Eventually, Simon ended up being the one to pull away, thanks to his phone beginning to buzz incessantly against the counter. Nahyuta missed his warmth instantly.

“What on earth do you want, Athena?” Simon said gruffly, having picked up his phone. Nahyuta stifled a laugh behind one hand, amused by the return of Simon’s grumpy demeanor. Simon glared at him while Athena chattered something in his ear.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be right there,” he said after a moment, standing and taking his mug to the sink, phone still pressed to one ear. As he exited the kitchen, he hesitated for just a moment before reaching out and placing his hand on Nahyuta’s shoulder, giving him a gentle squeeze. He smiled at him, so faintly Nahyuta nearly missed it, then grabbed his boots from the rack next to the door and sat to pull them on.

“Keep your hair on, for Christ’s sake. I’ll be over in ten,” he griped into the phone, keeping it held to his ear with one shoulder while he fiddled with his shoes. Once he had them laced, he stood and clomped his way out the front door, muttering something about “bloody defense attorneys”. 

Nahyuta was left alone in the apartment, still reeling from Simon’s unexpected behavior. After a minute, he vaguely realized that he did, in fact, feel better than he had before Simon hugged him. He’d have to thank Athena for the tip on physical affection next time he saw her. And maybe, with a little luck, he might even convince Simon to do it again.

Smiling to himself at the thought, Nahyuta returned to his own bedroom, the exhaustion from the prior day still clinging to him. He lay down, hugged a pillow tightly to his chest, and let himself drift off into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.

Chapter Text

July 24th, 9:00 AM

Wright Anything Agency

“Come on, Simon, please? It’s really important!”

“I’m not sure if I should be honored or insulted that you’d rather face me in court than the Paynes,” Simon mused.

“You know what they’re like, Simon! We can beat them, sure, but they won’t help us get to the bottom of this. Aren’t you even a little interested in finding out what really happened?” Athena insisted.

Simon sighed. “Athena, Chief Prosecutor Edgeworth has made the factory case a two-person effort. Even if I did agree, we’d both still have to deal with one of the Paynes. I’m not willingly going to work with one of them.”

“So pull in another prosecutor!”

“That wouldn’t make sense, Athena, the Paynes and I already know the case. It would be a waste of resources to bring someone else up to speed.”

“What about Prosecutor Sahdmadhi?” Athena asked. “He was working the case with you originally, wasn’t he?”

“The Sad Monk is recovering from a head injury, if you’ll recall. He’s in no state to—“

“Would you at least ask him? Please?” Athena wheedled.

Simon paused, looking down at his friend. Her big blue eyes were pleading and she was pouting slightly.

“Puppy dog eyes won’t work on me, Athena,” he said. “Nor will I simply accept your insistence that your client is innocent.”

Athena’s pout turned a little more genuine. “I know that!” she said. “I’m still expecting you to give us a good fight. But it’s so obvious that something bigger is going on here, more than just some accountant skimming funds. I mean, Prosecutor Sahdmadhi was attacked investigating this case, right? While Hartley was in custody, so it must have been someone else! Don’t you want to find out who?”

Simon let out a long exhale. She had a point. “Fine. I will ask the Sad Monk if he feels up to a trial.”

“Yes! Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Athena cried, pumping one fist in the air.

“Tsk, don’t celebrate just yet. If Sahdmadhi says no, I’m not doing it. And we’ll need to get Chief Prosecutor Edgeworth’s approval to take over the case.” Simon reminded her.

Athena waved one hand dismissively. “Yeah, yeah, I know, but Sahdmadhi’s not exactly the type to give up on a case, and you know as well as I do how Mr. Edgeworth feels about the Paynes,” she said.

“They’re greasy assholes!” Widget supplied helpfully.

“Widget, I will reprogram you.”

“And that’s my cue to leave,” Simon said, turning around and walking towards the door. “You have fun arguing with your sentient necklace.”

“Hey! Widget isn’t a necklace!” Athena argued.

“And he’s got more emotional intelligence than you!” Widget blurted.

“Silence!”

Simon glared back at Athena, who was now covering up Widget’s interface and looking a bit red, but not at all intimidated. He scowled. 

“You’d better reprogram that little bugger or I will slice it into scrap metal next time I see you.”

“Yep, yep, sure, Simon, funny how you aren’t denying though, anyways, bye!” Athena said, pushing him unceremoniously out the door and closing it before he could get in another word.

“Unbelievable,” Simon muttered to himself. “Absolutely unbelievable.”

July 24th, 10:00 AM

Blackquill & Sahdmadhi Residence

Simon decided to drop in on the Sad Monk before heading into work. He suspected, though he was loathe to admit it, that Athena was right. Nahyuta probably would jump on the chance to dive back into the case. Which meant he’d also need to come in to the Prosecutor’s Office, and Simon was not about to let a concussed man drive himself to work.

Upon entering their apartment, Simon found Nahyuta more or less where he’d left him, picking at a piece of toast at their kitchen counter. He was still dressed in his fluffy white robe, though there looked to be fresh pillow creases on one of his cheeks, as if he’d taken a nap while Simon was out. He glanced over his shoulder and gave Simon a curious look as he walked in.

“Oi, Sad Monk,” Simon said, “you feeling up to a case?”

Nahyuta raised one eyebrow. “A case? Am I not on medical leave?” he asked, waving one hand in the direction of his head. “Is the Prosecutor’s Office that short-staffed?”

Simon shook his head. “Not exactly. It’s a request from Athena. Apparently, they’ve given the factory case over to the Paynes, and she doesn’t trust them to uncover the actual truth.”

“Hm, interesting,” Nahyuta said, cocking his head to one side. “Who is the WAA defending?”

“The accountant, Hartley,” Simon said. “Athena insists he’s innocent, though I have my doubts.”

“He was in custody at the time of my incident, though, no?” Nahyuta questioned.

“He was.”

“So he either had an accomplice… or he is actually innocent and I was attacked by the real culprit,” Nahyuta mused.

He looked back up at Simon.

“And we’d be taking the case from the Paynes, you say?”

Simon nodded. Nahyuta’s eyes gleamed. 

“Very well. Give me 10 minutes to get changed and then we can head to the office?”

“Sure. I’ll call the Chief Prosecutor in the meantime, make sure he’s alright with us taking over again.”

Nahyuta snickered as he stood up from the counter, taking his dishes around to the sink. “I highly doubt the Chief Prosecutor will have many qualms about taking a case away from the Paynes. He dislikes them even more than we do, I think.”

Simon snorted. “It’s a miracle they’re still employed.”

“Yes, well, Chief Prosecutor Edgeworth is hardly the type to fire someone just because he dislikes them,” Nahyuta said as he made his way back to his room. 

“True.”

“He’s not above being a little petty, though.” Nahyuta said smoothly, winking at Simon as he disappeared around the corner.

Simon laughed to himself, shaking his head as he pulled out his phone and dialed the Chief Prosecutor’s number. He was glad that Nahyuta seemed to be bouncing back, his teasing side starting to show again.

Chief Prosecutor Edgeworth picked up on the second ring. Simon explained the situation to him, noting Athena’s and his own concerns regarding the case. Edgeworth was a bit hesitant to put Sahdmadhi back on the case, given his injury, but Simon insisted that he was up to the task. After a bit of back and forth, he was able to convince the man to let them take over the prosecution. He was just saying goodbye and thanking the Chief Prosecutor when Nahyuta walked back out into the living room.

Simon nearly did a double take. Nahyuta looked… normal. Which wasn’t that remarkable in and of itself, but considering that less than fifteen minutes ago, the man had been disheveled in a bathrobe with dark circles and exhausted eyes, Simon could scarcely believe what he what he was seeing.

Nahyuta was dressed in his usual cream and gold garb, each item of clothing perfectly in place and carefully layered. His wooden prayer beads were just visible around his neck, and one of his gauzy scarves was draped evenly over his shoulders. His hair was smooth and braided neatly over one shoulder. His skin appeared clear and refreshed, eyes no longer red and dark circles banished. Simon found himself wondering if the other man wore makeup; he wasn’t sure how else he’d managed to make himself look so good so quickly.

“… Panda?” Nahyuta asked, looking at him with one perfectly groomed eyebrow raised. 

Had he been saying something?

“Hm? Oh, right. Uh, Chief Prosecutor Edgeworth gave us the go ahead.” Simon managed.

“Shall we, then?” Nahyuta gestured at the door.

“Ah, yes. Yes.” Simon said, shaking his head to clear it as he followed Nahyuta out of the apartment. Now was not the time to be thinking about how radiant his coworker/roommate looked. In fact, there was never a time for that. It was wildly inappropriate.

Damn it, Simon, keep it together, he thought, cursing himself. The man’s always been pretty, there’s no reason to be weird about it.

Traitorously, his mind conjured a memory from earlier this morning, reminding him that he now knew how it felt to have Nahyuta in his arms. He had smelled faintly of bergamot and vanilla, and his thin frame fit wonderfully against Simon’s. Simon recalled the way he’d nuzzled against his neck, causing a few soft strands of lavender hair to rub against his cheek. He wasn’t really a hugger; he’d done it for Nahyuta’s sake, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy it. A lot more than he’d expected to. 

Nahyuta was just… huggable. For someone so prickly, he was surprisingly soft, and he’d melted against Simon the second he had him in his arms. And the little sigh he’d let out—

“Blackquill.”

“Hm?”

“Were you planning on unlocking the car sometime soon? We cannot get in it otherwise,” Nahyuta said, looking mildly amused. Simon blinked. They had indeed reached his car, and he’d just been standing here lost in thought. Damn it.

“Tsk. I know that. I was getting to it.” Simon griped, pulling the key fob out of his pocket and unlocking his vehicle.

“I’m sure you were.” Nahyuta said primly.

Simon scowled in his direction as he opened the car door. 

Stupid, infuriating, unfairly gorgeous prick.

July 24th, 11:00AM

LA County Prosecutor’s Office

Simon, thankfully, was able to concentrate on the road once he and Nahyuta set off for the prosecutor’s office. He allowed some small talk to fill the silence, but he staunchly refused to let himself look over at the other man until they reached their destination. He was far too distracting.

Chief Prosecutor Edgeworth had requested they stop by his office to debrief when they arrived, so that’s where the pair headed first. As Simon and Nahyuta stepped off the elevator onto the twelfth floor, they heard a familiar set of shrill, whiny voices, overlapping with each other as they spoke.

“But sir, we’re well prepared this time!”

“Those WAA brats don’t stand a chance. Their client is clearly guilty.”

“I assure you, sir, we can handle them.”

“Besides, doesn’t the foreign one have a concussion? Who knows what he might say! Not worth the risk, if you ask me.”

The two were cut off by a third, much sterner voice.

“My decision is final, gentlemen. Prosecutor Sahdmadhi is perfectly healthy, and you would be wise to refer to him by his proper name.” Edgeworth said. “Now please take your leave. I know you both have other cases to work on.”

A moment later, the Payne brothers slunk out of the Chief Prosecutor’s office, looking rather put out. When they spotted Nahyuta and Simon heading towards them, both their faces took on the same look of utter contempt.

Winston slicked back his obviously fake hair with one hand and scoffed. “I see the Chief Prosecutor has brought in the amateurs this time,” he said.

Next to him, Gaspen nodded. “That case is far too simple for seasoned prosecutors such as ourselves anyways,” he sniffed.

Nahyuta ignored them completely. He strode directly past without even a spare glance, as if they were nothing but flies on the wall, their words no more than a faint buzz. Simon, a step behind him, could barely contain his mirth at the twin looks of sheer disbelief that crossed the Payne’s faces. He managed to keep a straight face as they walked by, but he wished he could have taken a photo of that moment to keep as a souvenir. It would have made excellent decor for the lid of his trash can.

No matter. Simon followed Nahyuta into the Chief Prosecutor’s office, hiding a stray snicker behind a cough as he closed the door behind them. 

Chief Prosecutor Edgeworth glanced up at the two of them from his desk and gestured for them to sit. There was only one chair across from him, so they ended up on either side of the sofa that leaned against one wall. Edgeworth stood, walking around to the other side of his desk so he could face them both.

“I understand you two are taking back over the factory case. The Paynes likely didn’t make much progress over the past day, but they’ve left their notes with me,” Edgeworth said, plucking a slim black folder from his desk and passing it to Nahyuta, who was closest to him. 

“The trial tomorrow is for the accountant, Frederic Hartley. We’ve decided to start with him since there’s more evidence pointing towards him as the culprit, notably the embezzlement that you uncovered, Blackquill. Taft is out on bond, under house arrest. Depending on how Hartley’s case plays out, he may be brought in as a co-defendant later on in the trial. For now, though, we’re arguing that Hartley acted alone.”

Edgeworth grabbed another file from his desk. “The police are also investigating your attack, Prosecutor Sahdmadhi, separate from the murder investigation. I suspect the two are related, but there’s not much to go on, so we’re keeping that in our back pocket for now. I’ll let you know if they find anything.”

Nahyuta nodded. 

“Are you certain you’re alright?” Edgeworth asked, tone softer than normal.

Nahyuta gave him a small smile. “I appreciated the concern, but I am fine, Chief Prosecutor. You need not worry about me.”

Edgeworth pursed his lips. “Nevertheless,” he said, “I’d prefer it if the two of you stuck together during your investigation. Just in case.”

“Noted,” Simon said, standing up from the couch. “We’ll use the buddy system.”

Nahyuta snorted, his attempt to stifle the sound coming a moment too late. Edgeworth looked mildly dismayed, which in turn made Simon push down a snicker. He wondered if his expression had been similar the first time he’d heard Nahyuta laugh. It probably had been; Nahyuta had an unexpectedly boisterous sort of laugh, not at all what one would expect from a prim and proper monk. Simon rather liked it.

Coughing, Simon turned towards the door. “We’ll get out of your hair now, Chief Prosecutor.”

Edgeworth nodded, still looking at Nahyuta oddly. 

“He could laugh before the head injury too, sir, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Simon said.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Blackquill,” Edgeworth sputtered, his cheeks gained a pink tinge. “I thought nothing of the sort.”

“Ah, my apologies then, Chief Prosecutor,” Simon said, grinning. 

He turned to Nahyuta, who looked rather confused. “Come on, Sad Monk, we’ve got a case to catch up on.”

With that, Simon strode out of Edgeworth’s office, Nahyuta a few steps behind. Once Nahyuta had pulled the door securely shut behind him, he quickened his pace slightly to catch up with Simon.

“Is my laugh really so odd?” he asked.

Simon chuckled. “Of course not, Sad Monk. I think the Chief Prosecutor was just surprised to hear you laugh in the first place. You don’t exactly have a reputation for jollity around here, you know.”

Nahyuta hummed. “I suppose that’s true. I’m not… completely robotic though, am I?”

Simon shrugged. “Perhaps in court. The monk persona isn’t the most empathetic.”

“It’s not entirely a persona,” Nahyuta said with a frown. “I am actually a legitimate monk.”

“I know, Sad Monk. I’m not saying you aren’t empathetic. But people tend to have certain associations with different kinds of people. I would guess most of them don’t associate monks with snorting laughter, so it can come as a bit of a surprise.”

Nahyuta looked at him dubiously. “That’s ridiculous. How is one’s profession supposed determine how one laughs?”

“I’d imagine it doesn’t. Other people’s expectations aren’t always sensible.” Simon said.

“I suppose not,” Nahyuta said. He looked away. “Sometimes I feel like I don’t understand how other people’s minds work at all.”

Simon laughed. “I know the feeling,” he said, nudging Nahyuta’s shoulder with his own. “Why do you think I started studying psychology?” 

Nahyuta gave him a small smile. “And here I thought you only wanted to maximize your ability to irritate everyone around you.”

“That, too. I’m a multifaceted kind of guy.”

Nahyuta burst out laughing. Simon grinned in spite of himself, just for a moment.

“Enough of that. Come on, we’ve got work to do,” he said, tugging on Nahyuta’s wrist.

“Alright, alright,” Nahyuta said, letting himself be pulled along. “Let’s go solve a murder.”

The two of them decided that their next step should be interviewing the defendant down at the detention center. The Paynes had done so yesterday, but they had conveniently “forgotten” to turn on the tape recorder, and all they had to pass along was their own handwritten notes, which were messy and vague. Rather than waste time trying to interpret them, Simon and Nahyuta figured they’d just go straight to the source. Besides, the Paynes probably hadn’t followed up properly on their queries anyways.

They stopped by Simon’s office briefly to drop off the case files they didn’t need, then headed to the detention center. The jail was a quick drive from the Prosecutor’s Office, and they made good time. Soon, they found themselves sitting face to face with Frederic Hartley himself. 

He was a small man, rather typical of what one might expect an accountant to look like. He wore round, wire-rimmed glasses as well as plain brown slacks and a tweed vest. The sight of the two prosecutors seemed to make him uneasy; he shrank back in his chair as they entered the room. Simon was instantly sure that the Paynes had not treated the man properly. Dickheads.

Getting right down to business, Simon introduced them briefly and apologized for the repeat interview, explaining the change in prosecution. He then quickly reminded Hartley of his rights and obtained his consent to record their conversation. Meanwhile, Nahyuta set up the tape recorder on the table between them, and switched it on once permission was granted.

“Mr. Hartley,” Simon began, “why don’t you start by walking us through the night of the murder?”

Hartley nodded, fiddling with the buttons of his vest. “Well, I was in the office late finishing up quarter end reports,” he said. “When I was done, around 8 or so, I went out to the parking lot and headed home. I didn’t go anywhere near the factory, and I didn’t hear or see anything suspicious. I know that’s not very helpful but… it’s all I have.”

Simon narrowed his eyes. “How do you explain the security footage of you walking towards the factory, then?” he asked, pulling out a screen capture of said footage from one of his files and sliding it across the table to Hartley.

The man blanched, a muscle in his jaw twitching. “Oh, well. Well, I… suppose I might have gone over to the factory for a little. Yes, I remember now— someone had left the lights on. I didn’t think anyone else was around, so I went and turned them off. I was only in there for a few seconds, though.”

Nahyuta tiled his head in thought. “Are the main lighting controls for the factory not housed in the main building?” he asked.

“Oh, uh, are they?” Hartley squeaked, a bead of sweat beginning to form on his brow. “Well, uh, I didn’t realize that. I went to try and turn them off but couldn’t find the switch, so. That’s what happened.”

Simon narrowed his eyes. “Alright. Let’s say we believe you. Why, then, were your fingerprints found on the door to the security room, which you have no reason — or authorization— to be in?”

Hartley’s eyes began to bulge. “Well… well, I…”

Simon leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest. “No lie ready for that one? Very well. Why don’t I share what I think happened, and you can tell me if I’m right.”

A bead of sweat rolled down the side of Hartley’s face.

“Let’s see,” Simon began, stroking his chin. “I think you were working late in the office, but that’s where your truth-telling ends. You did go to the factory, to meet with the victim. She’d found out about your embezzling, hadn’t she? So she confronted you, and you killed her. Then, you went back to the office, snuck into the security room when the guard went on break, and erased the incriminating tapes. Only, you forgot to erase the one of you walking towards the factory.”

Across the table, Hartley looked ready to cry.

“Am I correct?” Simon asked, raising an eyebrow.

“It… it wasn’t like that!” Hartley exclaimed. “Please, I know I lied, but at least let me explain! I’ll tell the truth this time, I swear.”

Simon gestured at him to continue.

Hartley swallowed hard. “Look, I admit I was stealing money from the company. That I did do. And Esther did find out about it, and I was supposed to meet her in the factory after hours to talk about it. But I swear, she was already dead when I got there! I just… panicked and realized how bad things looked for me, and she was already dead, so it wasn’t like I could help her! I went back to the security room and deleted the footage. I only meant to delete the part that I was in, but I got rid of the whole day on accident. You have no reason to believe me, but I didn’t kill her.”

“You’re right. We do have no reason to believe you.” Nahyuta said smoothly. “You’ve worked for that company for years and, based on the evidence we found in your office, you only started stealing this year. Why?”

Hartley hung his head. “I didn’t know what else to do,” he said, bottom lip trembling. “My wife, she… she’s sick. Really sick. The company decided to cut down our health insurance to a less comprehensive plan this year, and her medication wasn’t covered anymore. We couldn’t afford it, and we were already swimming in debt. I couldn’t see another way.”

He paused for a moment to collect himself. “But that’s the thing,” he said, sniffling. “Esther was trying to help me. Yes, she figured out I was stealing, and she told me to stop, but she never threatened me! She’d started a fund among some of the other workers to help chip in, and she said that she’d make sure health insurance was first on the agenda once our union got recognized,” he said, miserably. “Why would I kill her? She was on my side! I swear it, I swear she was—”

“Silence!” 

Hartley quieted, eyes darting between away from Simon’s intense gaze.

“Enough of your blabbering. That’s not what I want to hear,” Simon said. “Now. What was that you said? Something about a union?”

“Oh!” Hartley said, one hand flying up to his mouth. “I’m not supposed to mention it, but I guess it doesn’t really matter anymore. Esther was the one leading the organizing committee, after all. I don’t know if we’ll be able to make it without her.”

Simon and Nahyuta exchanged a look. This was new information.

“Mr. Hartley,” Nahyuta began, “what else can you tell us about the victim’s unionizing efforts? Who at the factory knew this was happening?”

Hartley sniffled. “I’m not too sure,” he said, fingers going to play with his vest buttons once again. “I know Esther was mostly talking to workers on the factory floor. They’ve got it rough down there— working with chemicals and such. It isn’t right.”

“And how popular was the union, would you say?” Nahyuta asked.

“Oh, very,” Hartley said. “Pretty much everyone was in favor. I think Esther was going to have us vote to officially form the union next month.”

“And now that she’s passed, that’s unlikely to happen?” 

Hartley nodded. Then, his dull grey eyes went wide. “Wait, do you think that’s why she was killed? Because she was trying to unionize the factory?”

Nahyuta’s expression was carefully blank. “It’s a possibility,” he said.

“Or,” Simon added, “it was because she was going to expose your crimes. We only have your word that she wanted to help you.”

Across from them, Hartley hunched over even further. “Right. Well. I don’t know what else to tell you,” he said with a sigh. “I guess there’s not much I can do to make you believe me.”

“Indeed,” Simon said, standing up from the table. “Luckily for you, it’s not us you have to convince. That’s all up to the judge and the jury.”

Nahyuta nodded as he stood to join Simon. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Hartley. We do appreciate it.”

The other man merely sat there, head in his hands, looking miserable. Simon almost felt bad for him— almost.

Once they were outside the detention center, Nahyuta turned to look at Simon with a puzzled expression.

“Is American healthcare really that expensive?” he asked, brows knitting together.

Simon scoffed. “Course it is. They’ll charge you hundreds of dollars for a single Band-Aid if you let them.”

Nahyuta’s frown deepened. “But… people do have health insurance that pays for it, no?”

“Some do,” Simon said. “But most plans are employer-sponsored, and as Mr. Hartley’s just demonstrated, that can change at the drop of a hat. And you’re still expected to pay a portion even if you have insurance. All depends on the plan.”

Nahyuta shuddered. “I simply cannot fathom how people in this country live like that. Is it not enough to be sick without having to worry about how you’ll pay for the treatment?”

Simon shrugged. “Yeah, but people don’t have a choice for the most part. It’s pay through the nose or die. Funny how easy it is to get away with exorbitant prices when those are your only options.”

Nahyuta blinked. “Even Ga’ran never privatized healthcare,” he murmured, “and they call us uncivilized.”

Simon snorted. “You’d best watch out for your incoming hospital bill, Sad Monk,” he said.

“Really?” Nahyuta looked mildly startled. He clutched his prayer beads with one hand. “Do you think it’ll be that bad? I hadn’t even considered it.”

Simon took a moment to appreciate the apprehensive look on the monk’s face before he let out a chuckle.

“Eh, you’re probably fine,” he said, waving one hand dismissively. “Edgeworth’s got a pretty good health insurance plan set up for us prosecutors. His sister got shot a couple years back— she’s a von Karma, so she could afford it, but apparently after that he beefed things up for the rest of us poor souls.”

He paused, stroking his chin with one finger. “Though I did hear that a decades-old case was solved thanks to the culprit deciding to forgo medical care and leaving an incriminating bullet in his shoulder. Perhaps American healthcare does have a point.”

Nahyuta looked at him in horror.

Simon grinned.

“Anyways. Dismal state of American healthcare aside, it doesn’t excuse murder,” he said, starting towards the parking lot.

Nahyuta hurried to follow him. “You think he’s guilty?” he asked, sounding a bit surprised.

Simon turned back towards him. “You don’t?”

Nahyuta paused for a moment. “I’m not sure. There’s too many loose ends.”

Simon shrugged. “That’s what the defense lawyers are for,”  he said.

“You’re not even a little intrigued by the whole union thing?”

“Course I am. But we’re not building a case against the union. Which, by the way, could have just been completely made up by Hartley.”

“And if it’s not?”

“Then the defense will bring it to court tomorrow,” Simon said. “We need to focus on building the case against Hartley.”

They’d reached Simon’s car at this point. Simon unlocked the vehicle, popping open the trunk and throwing their files in. He went to sit down up front when he noticed Nahyuta standing next to the passenger side door, making no move to sit. He had a strange expression on his face.

“Isn’t it a bit lazy of us to only investigate Hartley?” he said.

Simon straightened, frowning.

“We didn’t only investigate Hartley. We looked at the foreman and other factory workers, too. The evidence against Hartley was just the strongest,” he said.

“But we’ve only had a cursory look at things,” Nahyuta insisted. “We hadn’t uncovered the union before indicting Hartley, and I think it’s an avenue worth pursuing. What if Hartley really is innocent? Wouldn’t you rather us figure that out now so we can avoid the whole debacle of the trial?”

Simon considered it. He’d always forged ahead with his cases, trusting the defense would come up with any relevant evidence that might exonerate their client. There was a lot of pressure on prosecutors to indict quickly; once one suspect looked good for it, most considered their work done. Simon wasn’t necessarily pleased with that aspect of the system, but he’d always been too overloaded with cases to investigate further. He’d never let an innocent person get convicted, obviously, but he usually left any doubts to be aired at trial. Even now, he was thinking of the stack of files for other upcoming trials waiting on his desk. 

But… Nahyuta had a point. If Hartley was innocent, having a trial for him in the first place would be a massive waste of time.

Simon sighed. “I suppose… the police have already bungled this case, and I don’t exactly trust whatever investigating the Paynes might have done.”

Nahyuta nodded slowly, sensing that Simon was coming around. “We can just make a few calls to witnesses,” he said. “See if a union was really being formed. It won’t take long.”

Simon nodded shortly. “Very well,” he said, pulling open the car door and sliding into the driver’s seat. Nahyuta mirrored his actions on the other side.

“Sad Monk, if this ends up being a waste of time, I’m saddling you with my paperwork.” Simon said.

Nahyuta attempted to stifled his laugh, but Simon still caught it out of the corner of his eye. He scowled, but said nothing. The damn monk probably knew just how empty that threat was; pretty much anyone at the prosecutor’s office could tell you that Simon would never trust his paperwork to someone else. He liked to close his cases himself.

Next to him, Nahyuta started rifling through his papers, probably searching for contact information for the rest of the factory staff. Simon turned the key in the ignition, shaking his head to himself as he peeled out of the parking lot. Leave it to the Sad Monk to goad him into changing the investigation’s course. 

Simon was a creature of habit. He rarely deviated from his path once he’d decided it; he was stubborn like that. He staunchly ignored the voice in his head (which sounded suspiciously like Athena) that asked why he was caving to the Sad Monk’s requests. Simon scowled, unwilling to admit that the way he treated Nahyuta was… different. Special, somehow.

Bloody hell, he was going soft.

Chapter Text

July 24th, 3:00 PM

LA County Prosecutor's Office

Once they’d returned to the Prosecutor’s Office, Simon led them to his own office, operating more on autopilot than anything. He hadn’t really thought that Nahyuta would want to look into the union thing together, since it was his idea, but the Sad Monk followed him into his office without hesitation. He plopped down on the couch, placing the files he’d been carrying down on the coffee table. He glanced around before plucking a highlighter off of Simon’s desk and immediately beginning to mark down witnesses to contact.

Simon was slightly startled, but decided not to say anything. Instead, he walked around to the window behind his desk, unlatching it and pushing it open a few inches. Taka was often around this time of day; he hadn’t seen her much at home the past few days, so he figured she might be hanging around the office. 

His hypothesis was proved correct a few minutes later, when Taka swooped in through the open window and landed gracefully on her perch. Simon smiled at her and reached out to scratch her lightly underneath her chin. She chirped in response, looking very smug. 

Nahyuta, who’d dived straight into calling witnesses, had his phone held to his ear and barely reacted to the hawk’s entrance. The only sign he’d even noticed her was the way he’d carefully removed his scarf and set it down on the couch beside him before returning to his call. Simon noticed, to his amusement, that the monk’s phone was the same model as his own, which is to say, it was incredibly outdated. Athena had tried to get Simon to replace his phone when he’d gotten out of prison, but he’d insisted his old one was perfectly fine. It’d just been sitting around for the last seven years, so it was hardly worn out. It worked, and that was enough for Simon.

Grinning to himself, Simon wondered if Nahyuta used the same justification to hang on to the near-extinct technology. Maybe his little sister had tried in vain to modernize him, too. It was funny that they had such a thing in common.

He was startled from his thoughts by a sharp nip, courtesy of Taka’s beak. He’d gotten lax in providing her chin scratches and she was none too pleased. Simon rolled his eyes at her, giving her one more scratch before turning to his own work. Nahyuta was handling the witness calls, so he decided to review their existing statements to see if there was any mention of the union that they’d previously discounted.

The two of them worked like that for a while, the only sounds the soft chirp of summer crickets filtering through the window and the even tone of Nahyuta’s voice as he spoke with witnesses. Simon tuned him out, focusing fully on the statements in front of him. It took some effort, the words flowing through his mind without leaving any trace of meaning. Simon felt his eyes grow heavy. He’d been kept awake with all the running around prior in the day, but now that he was seated at his desk with only boring witness statements to entertain him, his exhaustion finally caught up to him.

Nahyuta was watching Simon sleep. Again.

In his defense, he’d hadn’t done it on purpose either time. It wasn’t creepy, it was a coincidence. He’d just thanked a witness for their time over the phone and hung up when he heard a soft sort of wheezing noise. He glanced over at Simon’s desk for the first time in a while and found him slumped over on his desk, head held in his hands, dead to the world.

A smile played across Nahyuta’s lips as he watched Simon doze. The idea of moving his arm so he’d face plant on his desk drifted through Nahyuta mind, but he quickly pushed it away. He wasn’t trying to get stabbed or end up on Simon’s bad side, both of which were real possibilities. Nahyuta decided to leave him be, gathering his papers and preparing to slip quietly out into the hallway. His own office was only a few doors down— he could go there to continue his phone calls. 

He was about to stand and leave when a whooshing sound followed by the soft clatter of talons caught his attention.

Taka landed gracefully on the coffee table, regarding him with her yellow eyes. Nahyuta watched her, wary, not sure what she’d come over for. She cocked her head to the side, blinking slowly up at Nahyuta. He blinked back. 

Hesitantly, and against his better judgement, Nahyuta extended one hand towards her. She reared back slightly, and he halted, but didn’t pull away. After a few seconds, Taka slowly extended her neck forward, the top of her head just barely brushing against Nahyuta’s fingertips. 

Nahyuta stayed very still, not wanting to startle her. Taka bumped her head against him again, this time with a bit more force. 

Does… she want me to pet her?

Cautiously, Nahyuta ran two of his fingers along the crest of her head. Taka chirred, seemingly pleased. She lifted her head, exposing the area under her chin. Nahyuta remembered seeing Simon scratch her there often, so he adjusted accordingly, turning his wrist so he could touch her neck. Taka chirred again, moving closer to give him better access.

Nahyuta smiled despite himself. Having been subjected to Taka’s talons in the past, he knew very well that she was a dangerous predator and not a pet, but at the moment, she was acting rather sweet. She was rather like her companion, Nahyuta mused— far kinder than her menacing appearance would suggest. 

“You’re just a big softie, aren’t you?” he murmured, moving to scratch the other side of Taka’s neck. She chirped and let her eyes slide shut in response.

She really is a beautiful bird, Nahyuta thought. He’d seen her before, of course, but never this close up, or for this long. Her feathers were soft and shiny, arranged in an even array, and she held herself with a sense of regality. She was… charming, somehow. Nahyuta felt rather honored that she’d chosen to let him pet her.

When Taka hopped off the coffee table, Nahyuta fully expected her to return to her perch, or perhaps fly out of the office entirely. He did not expect her to propel herself up with one powerful stroke of her wings and land on his shoulder.

Nahyuta stiffened, more out of surprise than anything. He was wearing his overcoat, which thankfully provided enough of a barrier to prevent Taka’s claws from scratching him. Ruffling her feathers, Taka chirped once and settled herself down, apparently content with her new perch. 

Nahyuta sat very still, looking surreptitiously at Taka out of the corner of his eye. He wasn’t sure how to proceed— he’d been planning on leaving the office, but he certainly couldn’t walk out of here with Simon’s bird on his shoulder. He didn’t want to risk jostling her, either. 

It’s a good thing I took my scarf off earlier, Nahyuta mused. He wasn’t keen for Taka to repeat her scarf-stealing maneuver from the first time he’d visited the apartment. He’d escaped unscathed from that particular instance, but that was more due to luck than anything. Plus, he only had a finite number of scarves— he’d never retrieved the one Taka stole originally and would prefer not to lose another.

Taka, though, wasn’t particular about her spoils. Nahyuta felt her peck at his hair, tugging slightly on his braid. He sighed, internally; he’d probably have to redo the whole thing once she was finished. 

Her attention to his hair was short lived, however. A moment later, she hopped down from Nahyuta’s shoulder, instead climbing into his lap. Her talons dug in slightly, and Nahyuta winced. She poked curiously at the buttons of his coat before zeroing in on her true target. Nahyuta realized what she was planning a second too late.

Taka lunged forward, snatching the silver clip that gleamed from the end of Nahyuta’s braid in her beak. She took off, claws digging into his thighs and one wing thumping against his face, taking her shiny new treasure with her.

Unfortunately for Nahyuta, unlike his scarf, this particular item was rather firmly attached to his hair, which was in turn attached to him. So when Taka made a break for it, flying nimbly up and over Simon’s desk, Nahyuta was yanked unceremoniously after her.

He slammed against the front of the desk with an oof, arms shooting out to brace himself. The desk, thankfully, was sturdy enough to hold him back; his hair clasp slipped off the end of his braid and Taka triumphantly made her escape, a few long lavender hairs trailing behind her. She settled back onto her perch, gleaming prize held secure in her beak.

This all happened very fast. One second, Nahyuta was sitting on the couch reviewing files, and the next he was sprawled across the desk, scalp aching and shins smarting from where he’d tripped over the coffee table. 

Groaning, Nahyuta began to push himself upright, but froze when he noticed his hands, which he’d assumed had landed on the desk, were not pressing against wood at all. He realized, to his growing horror, that he hadn’t braced himself against the desk itself— he’d braced himself against its occupant. The surface beneath his palms was warm, the fabric supple; his overcoat, most likely. He could even feel the other man’s wild hair tickling the backs of his hands.

Slowly, Nahyuta lifted his head, grip shifting on what he now realized were Simon’s shoulders. He found himself staring directly into a startled pair of warm grey eyes, mere inches away from his own. They were close enough for Nahyuta to feel the warm ghost of Simon’s breath against his cheek. Nahyuta’s grasp on Simon’s shoulders tightened involuntarily, the small movement enough to make their noses brush. Simon inhaled sharply but stayed where he was. Nahyuta found himself similarly frozen.

Simon’s eyes were wider than Nahyuta had ever seen them, framed by long, dark lashes. They stared at each other from their respective sides of the desk, both stunned by the shock of their unplanned proximity. Nahyuta found himself thinking that it was a shame that Simon hid his eyes under his bangs all the time; they were rather pretty. He watched those pretty eyes flick down towards his mouth, then back up to meet his gaze.

I want him to kiss me, Nahyuta thought. 

Nahyuta was moments away from leaning in and finding out what kissing Simon might feel like when a door slammed elsewhere in the building and brought him back to his senses.

What in the name of the Holy Mother am I doing? 

Nahyuta jerked back, pulling away as if burned. He hastily removed his hands from Simon’s shoulders, bringing his arms in across his chest. One hand brushed against his braid, which was predictably ruined. He took a deep breath, shaking off the remnants of shock. We are at work, he reminded himself, and that was wildly inappropriate.

“Your bird’s a menace,” he said, deciding to pretend like the last couple minutes hadn’t happened.

“I’m aware,” Simon breathed, still dazed. “What’d she do this time?”

“Treasure hunting.” Nahyuta explained, gesturing at the bird. "We were just collateral damage."

Blinking, Simon turned his head to look over at Taka’s perch. Upon seeing her sitting proudly with her newest bounty still clutched in her beak, understanding dawned on Simon’s features.

“Oh,” he said. “Damn it, Taka.” 

“I’d apologize for the rude awakening, but I’m afraid I had little control over the situation,” Nahyuta said, running his fingers through his hair to undo what remained of his plait. “Unfortunately, I must go where my hair goes.”

“And I’d apologize for the bird, but I’m afraid I have as little control over her as you do,” Simon echoed. Then, after a beat: “Are… are you alright?”

Nahyuta laughed dryly, continuing to comb out his hair with his fingers. “I’m fine,” he said, “possibly a bit bruised, but nothing I can’t handle.”

“You’re bleeding,”

“Hm?”

Simon gestured toward the hand Nahyuta was using to fix his hair. “You’re getting blood in your hair,”

Startled, Nahyuta looked down to find that Simon was right. There was a large gash across the back of his left hand. It didn’t appear to be particularly deep, but it was bleeding quite a bit. One of Taka’s talons must have scraped him when she’d taken off from his lap.

Simon was rummaging around in his desk drawers. A moment later, he pulled out a small plastic first aid kit. He stood, walking around his desk to sit on the couch near Nahyuta.

“C’mere, then,” he said softly.

Nahyuta complied, taking a seat on the couch once again, angling himself slightly toward Simon.

Simon reached out, lightly grasping his wrist and pulling it forward from where he’d been holding it close to his chest. He held Nahyuta’s hand carefully, his fingers wrapping around his wrist from below so that Nahyuta’s palm rested on the upturned inside of Simon’s own wrist. Nahyuta could feel the uneven texture of scars beneath his fingertips. He was surprised that Simon would willingly let him touch such a vulnerable area, but the other man seemed to think nothing of it. 

Simon had retrieved an alcohol wipe from the first kit, opting to rip it open with his teeth rather than let go of Nahyuta’s hand so he could tear it normally. Nahyuta tried not to read too much into that. He hissed as Simon began cleaning the wound, the sting of alcohol familiar but still sharp. 

“Tch,” Simon muttered. “It’s just a scratch, Sad Monk.”

“If it’s only a scratch, you needn’t take such care,” Nahyuta replied, a little snide.

Simon said nothing, placing the used wipe aside and retrieving a roll of bandages, which he wrapped gently around Nahyuta’s hand twice. He ran one finger briefly along the edge to ensure it wasn’t too tight, then secured it with a bit of medical tape.

“There,” he said. “All done.”

“Thanks,” Nahyuta said softly.

Simon hummed in acknowledgement, but kept holding his hand. His thumb began stroking gently against the inside of Nahyuta’s wrist.

“You’ve got quite the knack for getting injured on the job, you know.” he said.

Nahyuta raised one eyebrow. “I didn’t until I started working with you. You’re bad luck.”

“Am I?” Simon asked, one side of his mouth quirking up. “Why bother keeping me around, then?”

Nahyuta looked at him for a moment, trying to gauge the man’s seriousness before answering. It was a futile attempt; Simon’s grey eyes betrayed nothing.

Nahyuta was prepared to brush off the comment and pull away from Simon’s warm grasp when he felt the other man squeeze his hand, just slightly. His gaze dropped to their intertwined hands, then back up to Simon’s eyes. For just a moment, he thought he saw something like hope flash there.

Nahyuta swallowed thickly, slowly raising his other hand and carefully brushing back Simon’s fringe. His fingers trembled slightly, and he cursed his body for betraying his nerves.

“There you are,” he managed, tucking Simon’s hair back behind one ear. 

“That doesn’t answer my question, Nahyuta,” Simon said.

Nahyuta’s eyes widened at the sound of his own name rolling smoothly off of Simon’s tongue. He… wasn’t sure he’d ever heard the man use it before. His tone was also uncharacteristically soft, more so than Nahyuta had ever heard previously. He leaned in closer, letting their thighs touch.

“I suppose you’re an alright person to have around,” Nahyuta breathed, gaze darting between Simon’s soft grey eyes. “Something nice to look at, at the very least.”

Simon’s eyebrows, usually hidden, lifted upwards. “That’s quite the compliment, coming from you,” he said, his free hand rising to grasp Nahyuta’s chin. “You’re too pretty for your own good.”

“I do apologize for the inconvenience,” Nahyuta said, struggling to keep his tone even. Simon laughed lightly, guiding Nahyuta’s chin to gently turn his head until they were face to face.

“Don’t,” he said, and kissed him.

Kissing Simon felt like the first gasp of air after a long dive, sweet and all-consuming. Nahyuta, whose mind regularly ran at breakneck speeds, suddenly forgot all his racing thoughts and reservations. In that moment, it didn’t matter that they were coworkers, or that they were literally at work right now, or that Nahyuta still wasn’t sure if he deserved to have something this good. All that he could think of was the warmth of Simon’s lips on his own and the feather-light brush of Simon’s thumb across his cheekbone as he reached around to carefully cradle Nahyuta’s head.

Simon, Nahyuta decided, was far gentler than his exterior suggested. He kissed Nahyuta with a sweet slowness, as if he was afraid that anything more might scare him away. Nahyuta encouraged him by tilting his head, opening his mouth and deepening the kiss. He untangled his hand from Simon’s so he could instead thread it through Simon’s thick locks and press them more firmly together.

Simon groaned softly, his own newly-freed hand coming to Nahyuta’s hip. He tugged, pulling Nahyuta fully into his lap, his arm wrapping around his waist and hand coming to rest on the small of his back. Nahyuta smiled into their kiss, pleased with this new development. He responded by running one hand up Simon’s broad chest, slipping beneath his open overcoat and reveling at the firm muscle he found there. 

Not wanting to push his luck too far, Nahyuta kept his fingers away from the buttons of Simon’s shirt, though he desperately wanted to know what the other man’s bare skin felt like. Instead, he took a fistful of the fabric and used it as leverage to pull Simon closer.

They stayed like that for a while, mouths pressed together, hand roaming hesitantly over each other’s bodies. Nahyuta wasn’t sure which one of them had pulled back first; one second he was being kissed into incoherence, and the next he was holding Simon’s gaze and breathing hard, still in his lap but with a few inches between them.

“What was that?” Nahyuta asked, breathless.

“Don’t you know a kiss when you see one, Sad Monk?” Simon replied, tone sarcastic though his expression remained soft.

Nahyuta rolled his eyes. “Obviously. But why’d it happen?”

“Because I like you more than I probably should, Nahyuta Sahdmadhi,” Simon said with a small sigh, “and I got tired of doing nothing about it.”

“Oh,” Nahyuta said, ignoring the goosebumps that erupted across his skin at the sound of his name on Simon’s tongue.

“Why’d you let it happen?” Simon asked, mirroring Nahyuta’s question.

“I don’t know,” he said, feeling suddenly vulnerable. “Much of the same, I suppose. You’ve… grown on me.”

Simon hummed, his hand rubbing soothing circles on Nahyuta’s back. It was a small thing, but it felt nice. Nahyuta relaxed into the touch.

“This is a bad idea,” he said, wrapping his arms around Simon’s shoulders.

“It’s a terrible idea,” Simon agreed, pulling him closer and pressing their foreheads together.

“We’re coworkers. We live together. Our friends all know each other.” Nahyuta pointed out, letting their noses brush. “This could get catastrophically messy.”

“All fair points. Not to mention we’ve got a whole airplane’s worth of baggage between the two of us,” Simon added, stroking Nahyuta’s cheek gently as he laughed. 

They sat there for a moment, looking at each other. Despite their mutual agreement, neither seemed willing to move away from the other. Eventually, Nahyuta broke the silence.

“We can’t know anything for sure unless we try, though,” he whispered.

“You make a compelling argument, counselor” Simon replied.

“Kiss me again?” 

“I thought you’d never ask."

UPDATE 10/12/22: I commissioned the lovely Oona to create a piece based on this chapter !! it is so gorgeous and i love it so much. please feast your eyes (and go follow them on Twitter! ):

Chapter Text

July 24th, 6:00PM

LA County Prosecutor’s Office

An hour later, Simon and Nahyuta were back to going over witness statements in the Hartley case.

They may have indulged themselves and made out for a good while, but they hadn't abandoned their work completely. In an act of unprecedented restraint (which, in Nahyuta's case, was saying something), they'd both agreed to turn back to the case. Fun as kissing was, both ultimately cared far too much about their work to forgo their pre-trial preparations completely. 

Nahyuta thought things might be a bit weird between them after he’d carefully extricated himself from the Panda’s lap and reminded him that they had a trial tomorrow, but their dynamic remained essentially unchanged. Simon had only nodded, pulling the overcoat that Nahyuta had slipped off his shoulders at some point back into place.

“Right. We’ve still got a case to prepare,” he said, retying the ponytail that Nahyuta had pulled apart. “Tell me about the union, then.”

Nahyuta had obliged, redoing his own braid as he explained what he’d learned from his phone calls. “Hartley wasn’t making up the union. Not all the workers I spoke with were willing to tell me about it, but the ones that were confirmed that Esther had been leading the movement and that they were planning to go public soon. Esther was the brains of the whole thing, though. If I were trying to quash a union, her death would be awfully convenient.”

Simon hummed, and Nahyuta, with great restraint, did not stare at his kiss-bitten lips as he did so. Instead, he focused on Simon’s next words. 

“Alright, so there was a union,” Simon said. “That doesn’t change Hartley’s motive. He may not have been the only one who would benefit from her death, but he is the one with the most physical evidence tying him to the crime.”

Nahyuta shook his head. “That’s just it, though. The workers also confirmed that Esther had been asking for donations to help Hartley’s wife afford treatment. None of them knew about the embezzlement, either. They just said Esther had told them about Hartley’s struggles and asked if they could spare a few dollars to help him. Why would she do that if she was planning on exposing him?”

“Maybe she wasn’t. Hartley might have only thought Esther was going to expose him. Even if she wasn’t, it’s still a motive.” Simon pointed out.

“But Esther already had a chance to expose him, and she didn’t. The workers told me that she started collecting funds for Hartley two weeks before the incident, which means she found out about the stealing sometime before then. Why would he think she’d suddenly decided to spill the beans after she’d kept his secret for weeks already? And led the effort to help him?” Nahyuta countered, sweeping his now-restored braid back over one shoulder.

Simon grunted. “I see your point, but what about the physical evidence? Hartley went to the scene of the crime at the time of the crime, and he erased the security footage. Does that seem like something an innocent man would do?”

“Yes, it does,” Nahyuta said emphatically, “if that innocent man realized he’d be an easy person to pin the crime on. Think about it. What if someone else found out about Hartley’s embezzling and realized it would make him the perfect scapegoat?”

“And how exactly would they have found out something like that?”

“I don’t know! But there’s no evidence that Hartley even entered the crime scene or ever touched Esther’s body. We only know he went to the factory and then to the security room to erase the footage. It’s entirely feasible that he was only the one who found her body.”

“Tch. I’m not convinced, Sad Monk.” Simon said, a familiar defiance in his voice.

Nahyuta held back a sigh, instead turning to the case files laid out in front of them and flipping through them once more. That man was so damn stubborn. Nahyuta had a nagging feeling that they were missing something, something big, and he couldn’t set the idea aside. It wasn’t until he came across the photos of the factory after his own attack that it occurred to him.

“The storage room!” Nahyuta exclaimed, shuffling back through the photos to find the ones take inside the room. Once he found them, he scanned the contents of the shelves, looking for the one thing that could tie this case together.

“There!” Nahyuta said triumphantly, stabbing at the photo with one finger. “That’s what we’ve been missing.”

Simon raised an eyebrow, leaning forward to look at the photo Nahyuta held. Their shoulders brushed against together as he did so, and Nahyuta resolutely ignored the spark of excitement that contact sent shivering up his spine.

“What exactly am I supposed to be looking at here?” Simon asked.

“The bolts,” Nahyuta said, “the small ones, on that shelf there.” He pointed to a row of short, neatly arranged fabric rolls. “That’s what was bothering me. Remember how you found one of those short rolls near me in the factory? The one that wasn’t there before I was attacked?”

“I remember. What about it?”

“It came from the storage room! From this shelf!” Nahyuta said, pointing again. “From the locked storage room. I’m guessing the accountant probably doesn’t have the key to that.”

Simon shook his head. “He didn’t have a key to the security room, either, and he managed to get in there. Who’s to say he didn’t follow someone in?”

“Why would he? It’s not like he needed this specific fabric to strangle someone. He could have easily used the longer sheets on the factory floor.”

“Maybe they were too unwieldy. It doesn’t make sense for anyone to have used a bolt from the storage room specifically,” Simon said.

Nahyuta paused, mulling over the situation for a moment. “Okay, so if the small bolts were locked away in a separate room, why did the killer choose one of those instead of one from the factory floor? Unless—”

Nahyuta’s eyes widened suddenly, pieces sliding into place. “Unless the scene of the crime wasn’t actually the factory floor.”

Simon opened his mouth to protest, but Nahyuta steamrolled on.

“What if Esther was killed in the storage room, then moved out to the factory floor? What if her killer knew about Hartley’s impending visit and staged the body there to frame him?”

Simon shook his head sharply. “That doesn’t add up. If they planned to move the body ahead of time, then why didn’t they use the fabric from the factory floor?”

“Maybe they didn’t realize the bolts were different— I didn’t, at first,” Nahyuta offered. “And besides, if the crime scene was actually the storage room, than it makes sense why the killer came back and attacked me.”

Simon frowned. “I don’t follow.”

“Think about it. The killer realized his mistake with the bolts, so he had to go back and fix it. That’s why the storage room was unlocked and the smaller bolt was outside when you found me. The murderer had to make the murder weapon easily accessible from the staged crime scene. All he had to do was unlock the door and take one of the small bolts out to the factory floor, and his fake crime scene made perfect sense. I was probably just in the way.”

Simon looked at him for a moment, processing the new theory.

“Damn it,” he said, scowling. “If you’re right, then it’s got to be the foreman, Taft. Bloody Taft. His DNA was on the murder weapon, remember? He brushed it off by saying he’s the foreman so it’s not unusual for him to have come into contact with the fabric out in the factory, but if the fabric came from somewhere else…”

“Then why would his DNA be on it? It shouldn’t be, unless he was the one who murdered her.” Nahyuta finished, nodding solemnly. “And, as the foreman, he’d probably have access to the storage room, too. He doesn’t work directly with the machines, so it’s plausible he didn’t realize the bolts came in different sizes until afterwards. It all makes sense.”

Simon let out a long sigh. “I’m loathe to admit it, but it would appear you’re right.” He shook his head, looking weary. “So what’re we going to do, then? Ask the judge to swap out the defendant,” — he glanced up at the office clock — “six hours before trial is set to start?”

Nahyuta hummed and shook his head. “No, let’s let the trial go ahead. Call Taft as a witness, let him think we haven’t figured it out. Needle him on the stand until he slips up.”

“What are we, defense attorneys?”

Nahyuta laughed, letting out a snort. “You forget we’re all lawyers at the end of the day, Simon. Don’t tell me I need to fetch Chief Prosecutor Edgeworth to give you the “pursuit of truth” spiel.”

Simon shuddered. “Ye gods, spare me.”

Nahyuta laughed again, shaking his head. “Not as big a fan of the truth doctrine?”

“Not when it means acting like a conniving defense attorney, no.”

“Oh, it’s hardly conniving, Simon, we’re just working with what we’ve got. It was a mistake to pursue only Hartley in the first place, and now this is the best option for moving forward.”

“Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

Nahyuta waved a hand dismissively. “You didn’t like me either, at first.”

Simon paused, surprised at the other man’s willingness to turn the conversation to their own interpersonal relationship.

“You’re an exception, you menace.”

“I’m aware,” Nahyuta said with a smirk. “Thanks for indulging me anyways.” He stepped closer, and after hesitating for just a second, pressed a quick kiss to Simon’s lips.

“Now, shall we head home? Perhaps attempt a few hours of sleep before we have to be in court?” he asked, as if he’d just done something completely normal.

“Suppose we should,” Simon said, still processing Nahyuta’s actions. That small kiss had thrown him for more of a loop than any of the other unexpected things that had happened that evening.

The two men swiftly gathered up the case materials, filing them away in Simon’s desk for safekeeping until they needed them. They took the elevator down to the parking lot, climbed into Simon’s car, and drove back to their apartment.

Once inside, Nahyuta gave Simon another soft kiss, this time on his cheek.

“Good night, Panda,” he said with a small smile before retreating into his room.

“Night,” Simon echoed from where he stood in the entryway, though Nahyuta’s door had already swung closed.

Simon tried and failed not to think about how… domestic the whole thing felt. It was one thing to make out with someone for the fun of it, but to drive home together and get a gentle kiss goodnight? That was entirely different. 

Simon wasn’t sure how he felt about that just yet. He’d liked it, sure— but was he really prepared to attempt some sort of relationship with Nahyuta? He’d barely acknowledged his attraction to the man before today. Attraction might spark a relationship, but it wasn’t what kept it going. 

Simon sighed, trudging to his room and flopping down on top of his bed. This was too much for his poor brain to handle right now. Perhaps he was overthinking things; maybe Nahyuta simply found it amusing to fluster him with kisses out of the blue. It didn’t necessarily mean he wanted anything more than a physical relationship. 

Simon rolled over onto his back and stared up at the blank ceiling. Sleep would not be coming for him any time soon; his mind was too full of thoughts. The events of the evening flashed in his mind’s eye, and he let himself fall back into the memory.

There was the rude awakening at his desk, courtesy of Taka, to start. Then, the unexpected sight of Nahyuta’s face, so impossibly close to his. Simon recalled the way the other man’s gaze had drifted to his lips as he leaned ever so slightly closer, and the feeling of his hands, warm against his shoulders. That faint, now familiar scent of bergamot and vanilla coaxing him from the daze of sleep.

He was only a moment away from giving in to the desires he’d been ignoring when Nahyuta  jerked away, cheeked aflame. A sense of disappointment overcame him, which was followed by a sharp jab of shame. When had he become so susceptible to a pretty face? And why was he having such a hard time removing himself from his emotions? 

Sorting his emotions into boxes and tucking them away when needed was an every day occurrence— Simon knew the importance of his emotions, but he was also able to put them on hold until he was alone and able to process them. When it came to Nahyuta, though, all his self control suddenly went out the window. He couldn’t keep the feelings contained. He was hyper aware of the other’s presence whenever they were in the same room, unable to stop the shiver that ran down his spine every time he got too close. 

He was acting like a silly schoolgirl with a crush, and it was possibly the most embarrassing thing that had ever happened to him.

He’d been reigning it in, though, the added distance between them aiding the return of his senses. They’d collectively decided to move on from whatever that awkward, intimate moment was and not mention it.

And then Simon had noticed Nahyuta was bleeding.

In all honesty, he hadn’t offered to help bandage Nahyuta’s injury because he wanted to be close to him again. He did want that, but his own inner turmoil was quickly forgotten once he’d seen the bleeding gash on the back of Nahyuta’s hand. He’d been by his side, first aid kit in hand, before he’d even realized what he was doing. If she’d been there, Athena would have called it his “mother hen instinct”, something that Simon denied and would continue to deny every having.

It might have been fine if Simon had simply given him a Band-Aid and gone on his merry way. But no, he had to go and do it himself. Like an idiot, he’d grabbed Nahyuta’s hand without thinking, realizing too late that the way he’d done so left the other’s fingers resting on the inside of his wrist, right where the scarring was the worst. Right where he hated being touched the most.

Simon couldn’t remember the last time he’d let someone who wasn’t a doctor had touch his wrists. He wasn’t sure Nahyuta had even seen them before today. Usually, any contact there made Simon feel anxious; nauseous, even. He kept his wrists covered at all times for a reason, and it wasn’t because they were unsightly. It was for his own sake, and his alone. Covering his wrists meant they wouldn’t brush accidentally against the cool metal of a railing, for example, and send him into a panic.

At that moment, though, he hadn’t been thinking about his wrists, or the way his shirt sleeves had ridden up. He’d been thinking about Nahyuta’s injury, and it made sense to take his hand to tend to it. They’d both realized what’d happened at the same moment, and Nahyuta had gone immediately still, fingers freezing against Simon’s skin. Simon had surreptitiously searched his face, looking for… disgust, perhaps, or at least discomfort. But he hadn’t found it. Instead, a mild look of surprise had swept over the monk’s features, then disappeared as quickly as it had come.

Simon turned away to open the antiseptic wipe then, realizing that Nahyuta’s fingers against his wrist didn’t feel bad. They didn’t feel particularly good either, but the whole thing just seemed… weirdly normal. It was as if Simon’s scars weren’t even there. Like they were just two normal people who happened to be touching for practicality’s sake, and there was nothing remarkable about it at all.

The whole situation had Simon so deeply entrenched in his own thoughts that he’d forgotten to let Nahyuta’s hand go once he’d finished. He’d bandaged it up, checked it wasn’t too tight, and just… kept holding on. He hadn’t noticed until Nahyuta had looked down at their hands then up at him, a confused expression on his face. Simon had been about to pull away himself when the monk had tugged him closer, just by a fraction of an inch. 

And then he’d reached out with his other hand to push Simon’s hair out of his eyes, so gently he barely felt it. He’d called him “nice to look at” while letting his eyes flit none too subtly down to Simon’s mouth. There was no mistaking his intentions.

Simon may have more self control than your average bear, but he was also just a man, and a very gay one at that. He simply couldn’t sit there and listen to such a gorgeous man say something like that to him without kissing the living daylights out of him afterwards. He couldn’t resist the desire to reach out and grasp Nahyuta’s chin as a pretty pink blush colored his cheeks, to turn the other’s face towards him so he could see him properly.

Before he knew what he was doing, the desire to look gave way to the desire to touch and he was leaning forward and capturing the monk’s lips between his own.

Despite being caught up in the moment, Simon still had the sense to be gentle. He approached Nahyuta slowly, giving him plenty of time to pull away should he choose to do so. When the other man instead leaned forward, Simon kissed him softly, lightly, as if anything more might make Nahyuta burst into a smattering of sparks like one of his butterflies.

It was Nahyuta who pressed forward then, kissing Simon deeply and tangling his fingers in his hair. He shifted closer, and Simon pulled him onto his lap, wrapping his arms around his waist. Nahyuta was slender, and he fit within the circle of Simon’s arms easily. Simon held him close as they kissed, smiling slightly as he felt the monk’s hands move down from his hair to his chest and latch on to the front of his shirt. 

Holding Nahyuta simply felt right. Simon was hardly one for romance, and he certainly hadn’t done this with many people, but there was something about the way Nahyuta fit into his lap, the way their heights complemented each other and perfectly aligned their lips, that set fire to Simon’s belly. 

Nahyuta was unbelievably soft, from his hair to his skin to the likely-expensive cloth that made up his silky shirt. Everything about kissing him was dream-like, so much so that Simon found himself pulling back to double check that he wasn’t just imagining things.

He was pleased to find that he wasn’t. Nahyuta, freshly-kissed, was still in his lap, his eyes blinking open as he caught his breath. Nahyuta had always been beautiful, but in a cold, untouchable way. Here, though, in Simon’s lap, he was a completely different sort of beautiful. He was warm and messy and undeniably human, and Simon never wanted to let him go.

That was unrealistic, of course. They’d pulled apart, eventually, and Simon attempted to play it cool when Nahyuta reminded him of their impending trial. Eventually, he managed to refocus most of his energy on the case. But the whole evening, he had found his gaze being drawn back to the other man. He watched him frowning intently at witness statements, fingers running up and down the prayer beads looped around his neck. He was honestly impressed at the man’s ability to swap back to work mode with barely the blink of an eye.

Thankfully, they were able to hash out a game plan relatively quickly, and the evening had come to a close. Simon thought nothing more could possibly happen, and then at the last minute, Nahyuta had managed to surprise him once again with those gentle, affectionate kisses.

What was Simon meant to do with that? How was he supposed to simply fall asleep now that he knew what it felt like to kiss the prettiest man in existence?

Groaning, Simon smushed his face further into his pillow. He knew they’d have to talk about it, and they would. But for now, he was going to pretend like he wasn’t a whirlpool of uncertainty and attempt some level of professionalism. He was a fully grown, emotionally intelligent adult, after all. He could handle one little crush. Maybe he’d get lucky and all his complicated feelings would just evaporate overnight.

He should’ve known it wouldn’t be that easy.

Chapter Text

July 25th, 9:00 AM

LA County Courthouse, Courtroom Two

The Hartley trial hadn’t even started yet and Simon was already irate. 

He’d barely slept the night prior, the much-needed rest continuing to evade him despite his best efforts. He’d certainly not been kept up by thoughts of the purple-haired prosecutor currently standing next to him; it had simply been a bout of insomnia.

Simon was no stranger to sleepless nights, but today his brain simply wasn’t having it. His head throbbed, a dull but persistent pain that made him want to find a nice, dark closet to curl up in and shut out the world. The bright lights of the prosecutor’s lobby felt like needles in his eyes, and he’d just had the misfortune of opening the door just as a certain defense lawyer began warming up his vocal chords in the lobby across the hall.

He hissed, hands belatedly coming up to cover his ears, then moving to his temples in an attempt to massage away the tension. No one had any business yelling that loudly in a courthouse. Or anywhere. Ever.

“Have you ever considered strangling that brother of yours in his sleep?” Simon asked, glowering at the open door.

“Oh, certainly,” Nahyuta said cooly, not looking up from the autopsy report in his hand. “You should’ve heard how loudly he cried as a baby. It’s a miracle my hearing is still intact, really.”

Another shout echoed from across the hall.

Simon shuddered. “Ye gods,” he said, “Even death row wasn’t this loud.” 

Nahyuta shrugged. “You get used to it. Now, come. The judge should be arriving any minute,” he said, lifting his gaze and fixing Simon with a look. They held each other’s gaze for a moment before Simon gave a curt nod, signaling his agreement. Nahyuta turned on his heel and strode out of the lobby, breezing through the heavy oaken doors that led to the courtroom. 

Nahyuta had slipped fully into court mode, Simon observed as he followed him in. This wasn’t anything new, but it was a little strange now that Simon had seen the other side of the man. Gone was the light teasing and mischievous smile, replaced with ramrod straight posture and a careful, calm mask resting over his features. It was like looking at an entirely different person.

Simon came to stand next to him behind the prosecutor’s bench, doing his best to push through the headache-induced haze so he could focus on the trial. They’d agreed earlier that Nahyuta would take the lead today, given he was the one who’d figured things out first. Normally, Simon would chafe at the idea of playing second fiddle, but today he was fine with stepping back; he was hardly at his best. 

Across the courtroom, the defense team had taken their places behind the bench. Apollo and Athena were co-counsel on the case, though Simon was fairly sure that Athena would be taking the lead. She looked confident, standing tall with her shoulders held back, but Simon could tell by the way she was twirling the end of her ponytail that she was at least a little nervous. Simon caught her eye and helpfully shot her his best menacing grin. She stuck her tongue out in response. 

After a few more minutes of shuffling and getting settled, the judge finally called the court to order, and they were on their way.

Things started out simply enough. Nahyuta gave the prosecution’s opening statement, scroll unrolling across the bench as he reviewing the evidence against Hartley in his usual detached manner. Simon wondered when he’d found the time to transfer his notes onto the scroll— he certainly hadn’t been writing on one when they’d been working together. Maybe the scroll didn’t have notes on it at all— perhaps it, like Nahyuta’s monk persona, was just another courtroom prop. 

Either way, Nahyuta’s description of the crime was precise and impactful. In the defendant’s chair, Hartley looked near the verge of a breakdown, flinching with each new accusation leveled against him. 

Nahyuta first called the lead detective to the stand. She gave a clear, concise description of the scene of the crime and the police department’s findings, including the tampered security tapes, footage of Hartley walking towards the crime scene, and the embezzling scheme Simon had uncovered. 

Nahyuta kept the detective’s testimony as bare-bones as possible, sticking only to the facts and leaving no room for the defense to slide in with objections. He submitted the autopsy report to the court record and went over the details of Esther Eggertsen’s strangulation with the detective. Athena attempted to present the murder weapon, likely to point out Taft’s DNA, but Nahyuta quickly shut her down with Taft’s own explanation— that he was the foreman, so of course he’d touched the factory products. 

This, of course, was not actually the prosecution’s true stance, but the defense couldn’t know the prosecution was bluffing. Athena was right— the murder weapon would be important evidence, but for now they had to keep their cards close to their chest. Taft, looking smugly down from where Simon had spotted him in the gallery, had to believe that they’d overlooked him as a subject. 

Nahyuta spoke dismissively, in an almost bored tone while explaining the apparent irrelevance of Athena’s evidence. Athena scowled, slamming the defense bench in protest, but was unable to convince the judge to sustain her objection. She had grown a lot as a lawyer over the past few years, Simon knew, but Nahyuta’s cool indifference still managed to get under her skin. Meanwhile, Apollo looked more resigned than irritated; after their time together in Khura’in, he was probably more than used to Nahyuta’s attitude.

Nahyuta quickly wrapped up the detective’s testimony, the defense unable to find a foothold during cross examination. So far, so good— Taft, who Simon had been surreptitiously eyeing throughout the trial, had relaxed slightly in his seat, evidently convinced that the prosecution’s pursuit of Hartley was legitimate.

Next, Nahyuta called the security guard, Wendy Oldbag, to the stand. She approached, still wearing that strange metallic uniform, laser gun in hand. Simon was fairly sure even mock weapons weren’t permitted in court, but he wasn’t about to antagonize the woman over something so trivial. The bailiff, who gave Oldbag a particularly wide berth, seemed to have a similar idea.

Out of the corner of his eye, Simon caught a flash of maroon as someone made a swift exit from the gallery, the heavy door slamming loudly behind them. He suppressed a snicker as Oldbag scanned the courtroom, the frown on her her garish red lips deepening. So much for the Chief Prosecutor observing their trial.

“Your name and occupation, please, witness,” Nahyuta said, pulling her attention from the gallery.

Oldbag’s red lips snaked into a grin. “Well, aren’t you a forward one. Wendy Oldbag, security guard. Though I’ve also been known as an actress—”

Nahyuta smiled serenely, cutting her off. “Ms. Oldbag, if you could walk us through your movements on the night of the murder.”

Oldbag frowned again, clearly miffed at being interrupted. She sniffed and looked away, crossing her arms over her chest. “Fine. I was in the security office from the start of my shift at 5:00 PM through 8:00PM. Then I took a short break. I came back around 9:00 PM and realized someone had been tampering with my things. I was about to investigate myself when I saw Esther laying on the floor through the live feed of the factory. Then I called the police.”

“Hold it!” Athena’s voice rang through the courtroom. “You called the police immediately after seeing the victim over the live feeds?”

Oldbag gave her a withering glare. “That is what I said, little girl.”

“Hey! I’m not—“

“So, you didn’t think to check on Ms. Eggertsen yourself before calling 911?” Apollo inquired, leaning forward and cutting off Athena with practiced ease. She elbowed him not-so-subtly in response; to his credit, he barely even flinched. Simon could respect that. He’d fallen prey to those boney elbows many a time, and Athena was never one to hold back.

Up on the witness stand, Oldbag sniffed haughtily. “Do any of you defense lawyers have working ears? I said I called once I saw her on the security footage. I didn’t need to go check on her, something was clearly amiss. Besides, it’d be unprofessional to leave my post like that.”

“But you’d just taken an hour-long unscheduled break,” Apollo pointed out.

Oldbag’s nostrils flared. “So you think I should have taken another one?” 

“Well, no, but—“

“Defense,” Nahyuta interjected, “is there a point you wish to make?”

 Apollo frowned, crossing his arms over his chest. “The point is that we can’t be sure if the victim was truly dead at the time Ms. Oldbag saw her. She could have still been alive and just unconscious!”

Nahyuta lifted one brow. “Are you suggesting the victim was killed after being seen by the witness via the security camera?”

“It’s possible,” Apollo said. Next to him, Athena nodded her head in agreement.

Nahyuta sighed, shaking his head gently as he closed his eyes and folded his hands in prayer. “Pepper, really. It is unlike you to be so sloppy.”

“Don’t “pepper” me, Yuty. And what do you mean, sloppy?”

Simon had to put a great deal of effort into keeping in his laughter at the nickname, but he managed it. Nahyuta, meanwhile, ignored the returning jab, not even bothering to open his eyes. “Defense, please recall that the security tapes from after Ms. Oldbag’s return are in perfect order.”

Apollo frowned, brow wrinkling as he considered Nahyuta’s words. Simon could practically see the gears turning in his head as he tapped his index finger against his forehead. A moment later, he slumped over, horns drooping. It would appear he had reached the intended conclusion.

“And they don’t show anyone coming in to strangle her between the time the witness called the cops and the EMTs arrived.” Apollo said dejectedly.

Nahyuta opened his eyes and smiled. “Precisely.”

Athena slammed her hand down on the desk. “That doesn’t mean it hasn’t been tampered with!”

“By whom, Ms. Cykes? The killer? Surely if they went to the trouble of erasing the earlier footage, they would not have returned to the scene of the crime only to commit murder where they knew it would be seen.”

Athena shook her head. “Who’s to say the killer was the one who erased the footage?”

“Ms. Cykes, for what possible reason would someone else have to do so?”

Athena grinned, crossing her arms over her chest. “Well, why don’t we find out?”

She turned to face the judge. “This,” she said, pulling out a file, “is the forensic report on the security room. Two sets of fingerprints were found— the security guard’s and the defendant’s. The defense requests Mr. Hartley’s immediate testimony as to why his prints were present at the scene.”

Nahyuta frowned. “Ms. Cykes, we have yet to finish questioning the security guard, who, as you’ve just said, was also present at the scene. Calling the defendant now would be premature.”

Athena shook her head. “Why not call them to testify together? Ms. Oldbag doesn’t need to leave the witness stand.”

Nahyuta paused, pursing his lips together. “That is… unconventional, but I suppose there is no obvious issue. Very well, Ms. Cykes,” he said.

“If both sides agree, then… Mr. Hartley, if you would.” The judge said, gesturing to the witness stand with his gavel.

Hartley stood from the defendant’s chair, somehow still managing to curl in on himself even as he walked. He skirted carefully past the prosecutor’s bench, not looking at either of the men standing behind it, and joined Oldbag behind the witness stand. He (wisely, in Simon’s opinion) gave her a wide berth. 

Oldbag, who had been remarkably quiet for the past few minutes, suddenly let out an indignant screech as he stepped up next to her.

“What, am I just supposed to stand here next to this criminal? This murderer?” She rounded on Nahyuta. “My Edgey-poo would never treat me this way.”

“Alleged, Ms. Oldbag,” Nahyuta said. 

“What?”

“Mr. Hartley is only an alleged murderer. I’m afraid we haven’t proven anything yet. Regrettably, I am not of the same caliber as the Chief Prosecutor and have not yet secured a conviction. I’m sure he would agree, however, that it would be immensely helpful to the prosecution if you continued to grace us with your presence for a moment longer.” Nahyuta smiled and inclined his head towards the bailiff, who stood up a little straighter. “I assure you, no harm will come to you.” 

Oldbag looked skeptical, but remained where she was.

“Fine. But I’m reporting you as soon as this is over!” she snipped, mouth pressing into a thin line.

“You are free to do as you wish,” Nahyuta said. “Now, Mr. Hartley. If you would, please, explain to us your movements on the night of the murder.”

Hartley did so, sharing the same story he’d told Simon and Nahyuta the day before. To his credit, he didn’t try to hide the embezzlement, and admitted that he had intended to meet with the victim. He stuck with his story about finding her body and erasing the security tapes only because he knew he looked guilty.

Across the courtroom, Athena looked rather smug. “There you have it!” she said. “Everything explained.”

Nahyuta shook his head. “Ms. Cykes, providing an alternative narrative does not make that narrative true. What evidence do you have that supports Mr. Hartley’s claims?”

“This!” Athena said, slamming down a file on the table with gusto. 

After a few moments of silence, Nahyuta spoke up. “If you could share with the rest of the courtroom please, Ms. Cykes. I am afraid I cannot read the contents of your file from my current position.”

Athena had the sense to look a little sheepish. “Ah, right! It’s the autopsy report,” she explained, picking up the file. She glanced over at the prosecutor’s bench, as if judging the distance, before throwing the file frisbee-style across the room. “Here you go!” she chirped.

The file flashed towards them, the binding somehow managing to keep the papers in place. Nahyuta let out a tiny squeak of surprise, a rare crack in his usually seamless courtroom manner. Simon, having realized what Athena was planning the second she’d picked up the file, was more prepared. He reached out and snatched the file from the air inches away from Nahyuta’s nose.

“Defense, please refrain from attempting to injure the prosecution with your evidence.” Simon said, speaking for the first time since the trial had begun. 

Athena waved one hand dismissively. “No harm, no foul, Simon! Just testing your reflexes. Anyways, if you look at page three, you’ll see what I’m talking about.”

Simon rolled his eyes, placing the file down on the bench and opening it to the specified page. Next to him, Nahyuta leaned in so he could see whatever Athena was talking about. Their shoulders brushed, and Simon suddenly found it rather difficult to focus on the page in front of him.

Thankfully, Athena didn’t have the patience to wait for them to find it.

“The problem is the angle,” she said. “The bruising of the pattern around the neck indicated an upward angle, suggesting that Ms. Eggertsen’s killer was taller than her. Which is impressive, because Esther herself was 5’9”.”

Simon and Nahyuta glanced over at each other, then down at the page. Their confusion must have been evident, because Athena immediately picked up on it.

“Don’t recognize the report? That’s because it’s updated. Apollo noticed the bruise pattern and asked the coroner to re-review. We’ve only just got the results.” she said, grinning.

Simon resisted the urge to send Taka to go give her ponytail a good yank. He settled for a glower instead.

“Now,” Athena continued, “Mr. Hartley, if you could stand up.”

Hartley did so. His stature seemed to shrink smaller by the second. Simon could tell Nahyuta had reached the same conclusion he had muttered something that sounded like a curse in Khura’inese under his breath. 

“How tall are you, Mr. Hartley?” Athena asked.

“I’m 5’4”,” Hartley said.

“So you’re shorter than the victim, then. A good couple inches shorter.”

Hartley nodded.

Athena grinned, turning back to the judge. “Your Honor!” she said, slamming one arm down on the table, “my client could not have possibly committed this murder! He couldn’t have reached!”

“Objection! The defendant could have easily stood atop a step stool or other object to raise his height,” Nahyuta said, shaking his head sharply. “This doesn’t rule him out as a suspect.”

“Objection! There aren’t any step stools in the factory!” 

Nahyuta paused, considering this. “No, there aren’t,” he mused, one hand coming to run up and down his prayer beads.

“Exactly! So Mr. Hartley couldn’t —“

“Couldn’t have murdered her,” Nahyuta cut in, “on the factory floor.”

Athena stopped short.

“But… she was found less than an hour after her death! There wasn’t time to move the body!” she argued.

Nahyuta shook his head. “I said not on the factory floor Ms. Cykes. If you’ll recall, there is a storage room just a few feet away from where the body was found. I do believe there are a number of boxes stored there that could easily hold the weight of a man such as Mr. Hartley.”

“But—“

“And,” Nahyuta continued, “we have reason to believe that the murder did, in fact, take place in the storage room.”

“Wait!” A new voice cut across the courtroom. “If that’s true, then I couldn’t have done it! It can’t have been me!”

Behind the witness stand, Hartley clutched the railing in front of him tightly in both hands, his eyes wide. He’d shouted, far louder than anything they’d heard from him previously, and shocked the courtroom into silence.

Hartley, wild-eyed, continued. “The storage room, it’s key card access only. I haven’t got one, haven’t got a way of getting one either. If that’s where Esther was really killed, if you have evidence of that— then you have to let me go.” he insisted.

The judge shook his head. “Prosecution, what is this evidence you mentioned?” he asked, turning to Nahyuta.

Nahyuta inclined his head. “The murder weapon, Your Honor. My colleague and I discovered it was taken from the storage room, not the factory floor. It’s not the same size as the factory bolts. If you examine these photos here, you’ll see what I mean—“ 

Nahyuta pulled out copies of the relevant photos, passing them to Simon who offered them to Taka. He jostled his shoulder slightly to let her know he needed something. Taka quickly caught on, snatching the photos in her beak and depositing them in front of the judge before perching atop his head. 

The judge examined the photos carefully, stroking his beard with one hand. He seemed perfectly unbothered by the hawk; Simon supposed he’d presided over enough of his trials to be used to Taka’s antics. A shame, really. He’d have to teach her something new, just to freshen things up a little. Keep the courtroom on its toes. Perhaps he could get her to swipe the man’s gavel. That would certainly be amusing.

While Simon pondered Taka’s devious prospects, Nahyuta had finished explaining the storage room situation.

“The prosecution concedes that the defendant could not access the storage room alone. However, this does not eliminate the possibility of an accomplice.” Nahyuta said. He turned back to the witness stand. “Ms. Oldbag. As the head of security, you would know who has authorization to access which areas, correct?”

Oldbag stood a little straighter. “Of course I do. I can tell you that measly accountant wasn’t authorized, that’s for sure. The only person who can access the supply room is the foreman.”

A murmur ran through the courtroom. Nahyuta waited for it to die down before continuing.

“And the foreman, that would be one Robert Taft, correct?” he inquired.

“Correct. That’s him, up there.” Oldbag said, gesturing up to the gallery where Taft was sitting, expression stony.

“Your Honor,” Nahyuta said, “in light of this new evidence, the prosecution requests the immediate testimony of Robert Taft.”

The judge nodded. “Ms. Oldbag, Mr. Hartley. You are excused, for now. Court will adjourn for a 10 minute break; Bailiff, you will escort Mr. Taft to the prosecutor’s lobby for briefing.”

Nahyuta bowed his head in acknowledgement. Hartley looked incredibly relieved to be exiting the witness stand, while Oldbag seemed somewhat miffed at her dismissal. Across the courtroom, Athena and Apollo had their heads together, likely whispering about their plans for Taft’s testimony. Simon suspected they had reached a similar conclusion as he and Nahyuta had; now, it was just up to them to prove it.

A cool hand wrapped around his, hidden behind the prosecutor’s bench. “Panda,”  Nahyuta said, giving him a gentle tug. “Come. We have a witness to brief.”

Simon nodded curtly, letting their hands linger together for just a moment longer before turning and heading towards the prosecutor’s lobby. He could hear the soft clack of Nahyuta’s boots following behind him.

By the time they reached the lobby, Robert Taft was already there, flanked by two court bailiffs. Simon had expected him to be annoyed, at the very least, if not furious at being pulled into the trial. He seemed remarkably calm, though. As Simon and Nahyuta entered the room, he gave them a jovial grin.

Taft was a tall man, solidly built, likely from a lifetime of manual labor. His suit was of an older style, but looked barely worn, as if Taft had owned it for a long while but rarely used it. It fit him a bit awkwardly— a bit tight in the shoulders, a fraction short in the sleeve. Despite his large figure, he wasn’t imposing. There was something about his soft features that gave him a friendly air.

“Mr. Taft,” Simon said, nodding in his direction. “Thank you for your cooperation.”

Taft laughed, somewhat nervously. “Well, I didn’t think I had much choice, Prosecutor…?”

“Blackquill. And this is Prosecutor Sahdmadhi,” Simon said, gesturing to Nahyuta. “Your testimony is voluntary, at this point, but if you’d like to refuse, we can ask the judge to compel you.” He flashed Taft a predatory grin. “Your choice.”

Taft swallowed. “Voluntary is fine.”

“Excellent. Now, we only have a few minutes. A couple clarifications: you’re the only one with access to the storage room in the factory?”

Taft nodded. “Yes, but it’s not always locked. Sometimes, if I’m going in and out frequently, I’ll set it to stay unlocked.”

“And did you do this on the day of the murder?” Simon asked.

“I’m… not sure,” Taft admitted. “I may have.”

“Hmph. Very useful, that.” Simon said. “Human memory’s failing can’t be helped, I suppose.”

Taft shrugged apologetically. “Sorry. It’s just that my days at the factory are so similar, I can’t really remember what happened from one day to another.”

“But it is possible you left the door unlocked?”

“Yes, I suppose so.”

“And if that was the case, it would remain unlocked until you relocked it?”

“Yes.”

Simon nodded, stroking his chin. “Well, it was unlocked when the police examined the scene, so it’s likely you did leave it open. Should be fairly easy to convince the judge that Hartley could’ve gotten in on his own. I doubt your testimony will take very long.”

Taft brightened slightly at that. “Oh, good. That’s a relief.”

“What is?” Simon asked, raising an eyebrow pointedly.

“Oh! Uh, just that there’s evidence the door was unlocked. So it’s not just my recollection.”

Simon nodded slowly. “Indeed,” he said.  “That is rather helpful for you.”

What Simon wasn’t saying, of course, was that they were perfectly aware that he was lying. They knew that the storage room door had actually been locked, right up until Nahyuta was knocked out and the crime scene tampered with. They knew that the only possible culprit was Taft himself— but he didn’t need to know that. Not just yet.

One of the court bailiffs stuck his head through the lobby door. “Prosecutors,” he said, “court is  about to reconvene.”

“Very well,” Simon said, nodding in the bailiff’s direction. “Let’s get this over with.”

A minute later, Taft stood on the witness stand while Simon and Nahyuta had resumed their places behind the prosecutor’s bench. This time, however, Simon was the one leaning forward, while Nahyuta stayed a half-step back. Before the trial, the two of them had agreed that Simon should take over in the event they were able to get Taft on the stand. His psychology background would be useful, given they were attempting to mislead the man into incriminating himself. 

The judge banged his gavel, bringing the court to order. As soon as the noise settled, Simon began.

“Witness,” he said, “name and occupation.” It came out more a demand than a question. Taft immediately complied.

“My name’s Robert Taft. My friends call me Bobby. I’m the head foreman at Buster’s Fabric Factory.”

“Mr. Taft. Do you understand why you’ve been called upon to testify?”

Taft nodded. “I do. You’d like to know about access to the storage room.”

“Indeed. Now, if you could explain how one accesses the storage room?”

“Sure,” Taft said, giving a wobbly smile. “It’s pretty simple. The storage room is keycard access only. I’m the only one with a card. However, I also have the ability to set the door to remain unlocked for a period of time until I re-lock it. On the day of the murder, I must have forgotten to re-lock the door. That’s how Hartley got in.”

“Objection!” Athena cried. “That’s conjecture. The witness cannot speak to whether or not the defendant entered the storage room.”

The judge nodded. “Sustained,” he said. “Mr. Taft. Please keep your testimony only to the facts of the matter. Your own opinions of what happened are not relevant.”

“Of course, my apologies,” Taft said. “I was getting ahead of myself.”

“So, to clarify,” Athena said, “the only person who can lock and unlock the storage room is you?”

“Yes, that’s what I said.”

“And you’re sure you left the door unlocked on the day of the murder?” Athena asked.

“I’m pretty sure, yes,” Taft replied. “It was unlocked when the police showed up, after all, so that’s the only thing that makes sense.”

“Hold it!” Athena cried, slamming down on the bench. “How do you know that it was unlocked when the police showed up? There’s nothing about the storage room on the initial report.”

“Nothing in the initial report, Ms. Cykes,” Simon cut in. “However, the prosecutor’s office found it pertinent to conduct a second investigation after my colleague here was attacked while examining the scene.”

“What?” The judge exclaimed, looking at Simon in shock. “Prosecutor Sahdmadhi! Are you quite alright?”

Nahyuta smiled up at the judge and nodded slowly. “Yes, your Honor, I am perfectly fine. There is no need to be concerned for my wellbeing.”

He turned to the defense bench. “If the defense finds it permissible, I would be happy to give a brief testimony as to the events of our investigation. I do believe the attack was related to today’s case.”

Athena paused for a moment, scrutinizing the prosecutors across from her. Simon could tell she knew they were up to something— she just didn’t know what. Evidently, though, this was a risk she was willing to take.

“Alright,” she said. “Go on, then.”

“Very well,” Nahyuta stepped down from the prosecutor’s bench and came to stand beside Taft, who he gave a polite smile. Taft returned the expression but looked increasingly uncomfortable as he inched away from from the monk.

“Prosecutor Sahdmadhi,” Simon said, “we’ll skip your introduction as you are already known to the court. Please testify as to the events of your investigation.”

“As you wish,” Nahyuta said, bowing his head slightly. “I was investigating the factory floor at Buster’s while my colleague, Prosecutor Blackquill, investigated the office. I had been examining the crime scene when I noticed the storage room door. I walked over to investigate it, but when I attempted to open the door, I found it locked. Not a moment later, I was hit over the head rather hard. I remember hearing the sound of footsteps and a lock disengaging before I lost consciousness. The next thing I remember is being awoken by Prosecutor Blackquill after the fact.”

Across the courtroom, Athena’s expression contorted in confusion. She opened her mouth to speak, but Apollo beat her to it.

“But— but, you just said the storage room door wasn’t locked during the police investigation.” he interjected. 

“Yes, pepper, I did say that. However, when I first arrived at the factory, the storage room was locked. I must conclude that someone unlocked the door in between the time I was assaulted and the time I awoke.”

Apollo’s brow furrowed as he processed Nahyuta’s words. “But… Taft just testified that the only person who could unlock that door is him, meaning… you think he was the one that attacked you?”

Nahyuta nodded solemnly. “That is the obvious conclusion, yes.”

“Now wait just a minute!” Taft interrupted. “What are you going on about?”

Nahyuta turned, scrutinizing him with an icy gaze. “Do you have another explanation?”

“Wha— the door was never locked! You must be mistaken. I’m sorry you were hurt, but I had nothing to do with it!”

“Hold it!” Apollo’s voice rang through the courtroom, so loud it nearly made Simon flinch. He had one hand wrapped around his wrist, just beneath that funny golden bangle he always wore. Simon held back a sigh; he knew what that meant. Apollo was about to rip this man’s story to shreds. 

Frankly, Simon had once considered Apollo’s.. ability to be cheating. Now, though, after having seen divination seances and spirit channellings and violently sentient prayer beads, Simon was of the opinion that a little lie detection hardly gave the defense much of an advantage. Besides, he’d seen how useful that little trick could be. So, he sat back, making no protest as Apollo demanded that Taft repeat his testimony.

Taft did so, sounding a bit more nervous this time, likely due to Apollo’s intense, unblinking stare. This time, Simon was prepared for Apollo’s “Gotcha!” yelled at top volume. 

“Mr. Taft,” Apollo said, still staring intently. “Your left nostril twitched when you said you “had nothing to do with it.” You’re lying. You did have something to do with it, didn’t you?”

Really? Simon thought. His left nostril? Honestly, Apollo came up with the strangest things sometimes. He’d be more skeptical if only Apollo had ever gotten anything wrong— to date, he’d never missed the mark.

Up on the stand, Taft was starting to sweat. 

“I haven’t the faintest idea what you mean!” he cried, nostrils twitching.

Apollo narrowed his eyes. “Oh, I think you do. Let’s see if we can’t piece this together, shall we?”

Taft made no attempt to respond, so Apollo forged ahead.

“Let’s say, hypothetically, that I’m right and you were the one who attacked Prosecutor Sahdmadhi. Why would you do that?” Apollo paused, stroking his chin. “I think it was because you made a mistake. A big one. One so big you had to risk coming back to the scene of the crime.”

He continued: “Say the prosecution is right and the victim was killed in the storage room. It’s possible the defendant still did it, if you left the door unlocked. But if you didn’t— if Esther was killed while the door was secured— then that means Mr. Hartley couldn’t have done it.”

“In fact,” Athena jumped in, “that leaves only one person who could have done it, Mr. Taft. You.”

Apollo nodded in agreement. “I think you realized that, Mr Taft. You realized that you’d inadvertently incriminated yourself. So you had to return to the crime scene to unlock the door. You had to make sure it was open, even if that meant attacking the prosecutor investigating the scene, because leaving it locked would mean a sure conviction on your part.”

Athena shook her head. “What a shame you were too late. Prosecutor Sahdmadhi had already noticed your mistake.”

Behind the witness stand, Taft had deflated in on himself. 

“Well, Mr. Taft?” Apollo asked. “Are we right?”

Taft raised his head, revealing a ruddy face and eyes brimming with tears. “I suppose there isn’t much point in denying it, is there?” he asked, sniffling.

“There is not.” Nahyuta said, causing the other man to jump. Evidently, he’d forgotten he was sharing the witness stand.

Taft glanced briefly at Nahyuta before looking away. He let out a sigh. “Go on, then. Take me away. I’ll explain everything once I’ve retained a lawyer.”

Nahyuta nodded solemnly. “Your Honor, the prosecution moves to indict Mr. Robert Taft on the murder of Esther Eggertsen. We concurrently move to clear the defendant, Mr. Fredric Hartley, of all charges related to her murder. The financial crimes unit may take over for his other alleged offenses.”

The Judge nodded. “Motions granted. Bailiffs, please escort Mr. Taft to the detention center. Mr. Hartley, the allegations against you no longer require jailing, so you are free to go. Court is adjourned.”

He banged his gavel down. In the defendant’s chair, Hartley practically collapsed with relief. Simon could hear him sobbing out his thanks to Apollo, who awkwardly reached out to pat his shoulder in an attempt to console him. 

“Well. That went rather smoothly, all things considered,” Nahyuta said, appearing suddenly at Simon’s side behind the prosecutor’s bench. “I hadn’t expected him to cave quite so quickly.”

Simon hummed in agreement. “Indeed. We’re still missing a motive, though. We’ll need to puzzle that out before Taft’s trial.”

Nahyuta shrugged. “We’ll interview him, see if we can’t figure out the rest of the puzzle. For now, though, I’m simply glad we’ve got the right man.”

“That’s true. A good start, certainly.”

“Simon! Prosecutor Sahdmadhi!” 

Athena bounded up to the prosecutor’s bench in a flash of yellow. She folded her arms over her chest and attempted to give them a stern look.

“You two knew exactly how this trial was going to play out, didn’t you?” she said accusatorially.

“Who, us?” Simon said, feigning ignorance.

“Yes, you, numbskull! You barely objected at all once Taft got on the stand. Almost like you already knew he was guilty.”

“We can neither confirm nor deny what information the prosecution had prior to today’s trial,” Nahyuta said serenely. He gave her a small smile. “I can commend you on your work, though. You’ve become quite the opponent.”

Athena beamed. “Thanks, Prosecutor Sahdmadhi!”

“Please, just Nahyuta is fine, Ms. Cykes.”

“Okay! You have to call me Athena, though. No “Ms.” this or that. Fair’s fair.”

Nahyuta laughed lightly. “Very well, Miss…” he stopped, catching himself. “Very well, Athena.”

“Oh, so she gets to be Athena now?” 

Apollo’s voice, thankfully now at a more reasonable volume, sounded irate as he approached the trio, evidence binder in hand.

“She does,” Nahyuta responded. “…Pepper.”

“You know, Yuty, sometimes I think you’ve secretly forgotten my name and are just too proud to admit it.”

Nahyuta rolled his eyes, reaching over to tap the faded sticker on the side of Apollo’s binder which was emblazoned with his name in large, neat lettering. “Given I am perfectly capable of reading,” he said, “the evidence suggests otherwise.” Simon let out a snort.

Apollo glared at both of them, then sighed. “I despise you.”

“Would you prefer stink bug?” Nahyuta asked.

“You know, I was gonna suggest we get lunch together to discuss the case developments, but if you’re so set on being an ass…”

“Discuss case developments?” Nahyuta cut in. “How uncouth. That would constitute collusion between the defense and the prosecution, would it not?”

“It would,” Apollo replied, “if we were still the defense. But I don’t have any intention of defending that greasy foreman guy, and I don’t think Athena does either. So, we may as well help you.”

Next to him, Athena nodded vigorously in agreement. 

Nahyuta paused, tilting his head to the side. “That… would actually make sense. Very kind of you, Pepper.”

“It’s more than you deserve and you know it.”

“That is… if you’re alright with it?” Nahyuta asked, ignoring the jab from his brother as his eyes slid over to meet Simon’s. 

Simon shrugged. “No objections here. We’re going to Whet Noodle, though— I know you Wright agency folks like to drown yourselves in salt at Eldoon’s, but some of us have taste.”

“Fine, but only if you’re paying. You’re such a snob, Simon,” Athena said, rolling her eyes.

“I don’t deny it.”

Nahyuta laughed, louder than he probably intended to. One hand came up to cover his mouth as the other three turned in his direction, startled by the sound. He coughed lightly, avoiding their gaze.

“Shall we go, then?” he asked, cheeks dusted with pink. 

“We shall!” Athena declared, grabbing Apollo by the wrist and dragging him towards the courtroom door. “You can drive us, right Simon?”

“Do I look like a chauffeur?” Simon intoned flatly.

“Yep! Emo chauffeurs are definitely a thing somewhere in the world. Now come on, let’s go!”

Simon sighed as she bounded out the door, heading in the direction of the parking lot. He turned back to Nahyuta.

“We should probably catch up with them before Athena comes up with an idiotic idea like trying to hot wire my car.” Simon said.

“That does sound like a solid course of action, yes.” Nahyuta replied, nodding in his direction. “Before we depart, though…”

He looked surreptitiously around the courtroom. Simon followed his gaze and realized that they were the last two people left in the courtroom, with nothing but empty chairs surrounding them. Nahyuta, apparently satisfied with their lack of company, leaned in. 

“You were wonderful today, Panda,” he said, tugging Simon closer with a hand on his lapel. 

“As were you—“ Simon’s reply was cut short by Nahyuta’s lips capturing his own in a soft kiss. 

A moment passed before Nahyuta pulled back.

“Sorry,” he said, eyes sparkling, “I’ve just wanted to do that all morning.”

“R..right,” Simon said eloquently, his cheeks aflame. “Let’s, uh. Let’s go.” 

With that, Simon turned away, heading after Athena and Apollo. Nahyuta followed, a step behind.

In his haste, Simon failed to see the brief flash of uncertainty that crossed Nahyuta’s face. Nor did he see the way the monk’s hand reach out after him for just a moment before retreating. 

He left, running from the tangle of complicated emotions that Nahyuta evoked within him, overwhelmed by their potency. Behind him, Nahyuta, unaware of his internal state, felt a small seed of something root within him.

Doubt. 

Chapter Text

July 25th, 1:00 PM

Whet Noodle

One of the few blessings Nahyuta felt he had received in life was the abundance of forgiving people in it.

When he’d first returned to Japanifornia, he hadn’t been sure how to approach the people there he’d wronged in the past. He’d apologized to both Apollo and Maya back in Khura’in, many times over. But those were different; Apollo was his brother, and Maya another victim of Ga’ran. They knew him, or his situation, on a personal level. The other people he needed to make amends to did not.

He’d started with Trucy. Apollo had seemed so sure she’d understand, but Nahyuta had been skeptical. He’d prosecuted her harshly; in his last few months under Ga’ran’s control, he’d become particularly cruel. Part of that was due to growing fear that Ga’ran would harm Rayfa should he show even the slightest bit of leniency. In Trucy’s case especially, since she was the daughter of the man who’d just thrown her country into turmoil. Sins of the father, Ga’ran had said, and Nahyuta had gone and treated her much the same as his own country had treated him.

Deep down, Nahyuta had known she hadn’t done it. But he’d pursued her doggedly, determined to prove to Ga’ran that he was still useful. That he was worth keeping around, if only as a punching bag. No matter the reason, though, his behavior was unconscionable; had Apollo and Athena not been there to defend her, who knows what lengths he may have gone to. He shuddered to think of it.

He admitted this all to Trucy one evening, having dropped by the Wright Anything Agency to pick up Apollo. He’d hung his head in shame and asked for her forgiveness, though he knew he did not deserve it. He told her he understood if she did not want to see him ever again, that he was grateful for her to simply hear him out. 

Trucy’s response had surprised him. The whole ordeal had been awful for her, that was true. But everything had turned out alright in the end, hadn’t it? Even when Nahyuta had admitted to treater her all the more harshly because of her father, she simply shrugged.

“Sometimes people do things wrong while trying to be right,” she’d said. “I’ve done bad things to protect the people I love before, too.”

Then, she’d smiled and placed her small, gloved hand on top of his. “I forgive you.” she’d said, plain and simple. Nahyuta had nearly burst into tears right then and there.

Athena’s apology had gone similarly. She’d waved it off with one hand, saying that she was hardly unused to prosecutors being mean, and that she knew he’d been under a lot of pressure. Anyone in those circumstances would’ve snapped, she argued. Nahyuta had tried to insist that he’d taken it to far, but Athena wouldn’t hear it. 

“Prosecutor Sahdmadhi. It’s alright, really. I’m fine. Sure, you were a bit of an ass, but so’s Simon and he’s one of my favorite people. Don’t worry about it.” she’d said.

Of everyone he’d apologized to since his arrival, though, the person that had surprised him the most was Bucky Whet.

It’d happened the week after he’d moved in with Simon. They’d gone to pick up dinner together after a late night in the office, and Nahyuta hadn’t even realized the place they were going was Bucky’s. He’d walked through the front door and immediately froze at the sight of Bucky, calmly pulling noodles behind the counter.

Simon had brushed past him, evidently not caring for Nahyuta’s sudden inner turmoil. Bucky, meanwhile, had given him a lazy grin and “Welcome to Whet Noodle!” as if he were simply another customer. When Simon had excused himself to the bathroom, Nahyuta had quietly asked Bucky if he remembered him.

“Course I do!” he’d said, not looking up from the noodle dough he was working on. “You’re that funny prosecutor from my trial. Simey likes complaining about you! Says you’re an ee-nig-mah.”

Nahyuta, shocked, has asked him point blank why he was being so kind to him when he had every reason to hate him. Bucky had looked up at him, then, with a curious expression.

“I don’t hate you for doing your job. You and Simey were just tryin’ to find out what happened. You got it wrong at first, but it wasn’t nothing personal. I know I looked guilty for it.”

Despite Bucky’s evident lack of a grudge, Nahyuta had apologized, and Bucky had waved him off with an easy acceptance. By the time Simon returned to the counter, Nahyuta was sitting in silence while Bucky worked, mind short-circuited by the compassion that someone he’d hurt somehow managed to hold for him. 

Nahyuta knew he was blessed to be given so many second chances. More-so than he felt he deserved. It was something he was reminded of every time they went to Whet Noodle, and he was grateful for it. He cherished every second chance he was given, and swore not to squander a single one.

So far, he was actually doing a pretty decent job of it. Here he was, sitting at a booth in the restaurant of someone who’d given him a second chance, surrounded by three other people who’d done the same. Only a year ago, such a scenario would have felt near impossible. Now, it was just another normal evening.

Well, not quite normal. Nahyuta usually only came to Whet Noodle with Simon; he’d never been with a larger group before. Apollo, of course, he’d grown comfortable with again, but he was still unsure how to act around Athena. He wouldn’t say they were friends, really, but they were more familiar than acquaintances. He knew how important she was to Simon, though, and he very much wanted to get along with her.

The thought of Simon made Nahyuta’s stomach churn, just a little. He glanced over to where the man was seated, just next to him in the booth. He was acting normal now, trading barbs across the table with Athena, but he’d seemed… off, when they left the courthouse earlier. Nahyuta wondered if he’d crossed a line with the kiss in the empty courtroom. Maybe he’d misread things— maybe he was being too affectionate, too much. He’d have to be more careful.

Nahyuta was pulled from his internal musings by the sensation of a hand settling on his knee and squeezing lightly.  

“Sad Monk. Do you know what you want?” Simon asked.

Nahyuta blinked up at the table, realizing that Bucky was standing at one end holding a notepad, looking at him expectantly. Right. They were ordering lunch.

Nahyuta requested his usual order, shooting a small smile in Bucky’s direction as he jotted it down then headed back to the noodle bar. Evidently, the rest of the table had already ordered while Nahyuta had been lost in his own thoughts. Nahyuta shook his head slightly, bringing himself back into the moment. He could ponder his interpersonal relationships later; for now, he ought to focus on his present company. It was rude to be zoning out.

“Ah, I do apologize,” Nahyuta said, “my mind was elsewhere.”

Across the table, Apollo let out a laugh. “You? Distracted?”

“Yes, pepper, shocking as it may be,” Nahyuta said. “I used up all my focus on that trial this morning, so I’m afraid I’m only half here.”

“Where’s the rest of you, the Twilight Realm?” Apollo asked.

“If I had the ability to send any part of myself to the Twilight Realm, be assured than none of me would be here.” 

Next to him, Simon laughed, the movement making Nahyuta once again aware of the hand he still had rested on his knee. They were seated such that neither Athena nor Apollo could see what he was doing, but Nahyuta wasn’t so sure Simon was even aware he’d left it there. Earlier, he’d pulled back from Nahyuta’s touch, but now he was not only initiating it, but sustaining it. Nahyuta wasn’t sure what to think.

Hesitantly, Nahyuta moved his own hand from his lap, placing it so that his fingers rested lightly against the back of Simon’s hand. Simon startled slightly, gaze darting down; it seemed he had forgotten where his hand was, yet he didn’t pull away. Nahyuta went a step farther and gently slid his own fingers between Simon’s, fully intertwining their hands. 

For a petrifying moment, Simon didn’t react. Nahyuta was about to pull away himself when Simon gave his hand a gentle squeeze, shifting his arm so their hands sat more comfortably on the seat between them. Relieved, Nahyuta squeezed back.

Simon was okay with it, then. Nahyuta ignored the butterflies taking flight in his stomach at the thought, determined to stay calm. He focused back in on his companions’ conversation instead.

“Anyways,” Athena was saying, “now that Junie’s got her own home studio she’s a lot happier. Oh, and speaking of living spaces— how’s the roomie situation treating you two?”

“Fine,” Nahyuta said, at the same time Simon replied “Tolerable.”

Athena laughed. “Glowing reviews, then.”

“To be honest, I kinda thought you two would have ripped each other’s heads off by now,” Apollo admitted, leaning back in his seat. “Glad to hear that hasn’t been the case.”

Nahyuta shrugged. “The panda is… surprisingly decent. His cooking’s not awful, either.”

Athena’s eyebrows rose. “He cooks for you?”

“No,” Simon cut in. “I cook for myself. It’s not my fault most recipes aren’t designed for single servings.”

“But you’re sharing!” Athena said, grinning. “You never let me have any of your food.”

“That’s because your stomach is like a black hole. If I gave you permission to eat my food, there’d never be anything left for me,” Simon replied. “Nahyuta, at least, has manners.”

“Hey, I’m a growing girl!”

“I think that excuse ran out a few years ago, Athena.”

“You never know!” she insisted. “Maybe I’ve just plateaued temporarily, because you won’t let me eat enough.”

“Ah, I see. You are like an infant, unable to feed yourself. How pitiable.” Simon said.

Athena glared at him. Simon grinned back.

“You ought to be nicer to your poor baby sister, Simon.” Nahyuta chided. “Clearly, you’ve been holding her back.”

“You’re one to talk, Sad Monk. Look at your baby brother. He must be starving, what with how short he’s turned out.”

“Har dee har, let’s make fun of Apollo’s height again,” Apollo said, rolling his eyes. “Don’t you people ever get tired of using that joke over and over?”

Simon, Nahyuta, and Athena replied simultaneously with a chorus of nos. 

Apollo sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Why do I spend time with any of you?”

“Because we work together,” Simon suggested, “and you have no choice. Unless, of course, you’d rather I call up the Payne brothers? I’m sure they’d be happy to hear what you have to say about the Taft case.”

“You know what? Maybe I should give them a second chance. They’re certainly easier to win against than you two,” Apollo replied.

Nahyuta gasped comically. “Apollo! Surely you are not implying your win record is more important finding the truth?”

Apollo shrugged, taking a sip of his water. “Finding the truth usually means I win, so. Best of both worlds.”

“You WAA folks do seem entirely incapable of finding a guilty client.” Nahyuta said, frowning.

Apollo snorted. “No, we’ve got plenty of those. We just turn their requests for representation down.”

“Oh, the luxury of choosing your own clients,” Nahyuta mused. “Alas, we prosecutors have no such option.”

“Oh, come off it,” Apollo scoffed. “As if every case doesn’t start off with assumption of guilt. You know as well as I do that innocence is far more difficult to prove.”

“Fair,”

“And besides, I tried to get you to consider becoming a defense attorney who knows how many times back in Khura’in, so I know for a fact that you’re perfectly satisfied being a prosecutor.” Apollo said.

“Sad Monk as a defense attorney, eh?” Simon said, glancing over at the man in question. “… I can’t see it.”

“Obviously, neither could I,” Nahyuta responded. “Besides, I haven’t got a magic bracelet or extra-sensitive ears to tell me which clients are guilty and which aren’t. I’d have to figure that out myself, like a plebian.”

“You could just squeeze them with your prayer beads until they confess,” Athena suggested.

“What an underhanded tactic,” Nahyuta said breezily. “I would never.”

Apollo and Athena both gave him unconvinced looks.

“What? I would not!” Nahyuta insisted. “I only use them on you two when you’re wasting the court’s time with your bluffs.”

“Ah, yes. The utmost sin. Wasting time.” Apollo said solemnly. 

Simon let out a guffaw at that, which led to the entire table dissolving into laughter. Even Nahyuta allowed himself a small chuckle. They had yet to recover when Bucky returned, a large tray laden with bowls in one hand. As he approached the booth, Nahyuta felt Simon’s hand slip out of his.

“Glad you’re havin’ fun, Simey,” Bucky said as he placed the bowls in front of their respective customers. Nahyuta thanked him softly while Simon grunted in response, distracted by the arrival of their food. Across the table, Athena wasted no time slurping up her noodles, earning her a vaguely grossed-out glance from Apollo.

Things were quiet for a while as the four of them ate. None of them were particularly good at remembering to eat when they were neck-deep in a case, so they were all rather hungry. Athena finished first, having practically inhaled her dish.

“So,” she said, taking a sip of her water, “I suppose we should talk about Taft?”

Nahyuta nodded, swallowing the bite he’d just taken. “Yes, we should. We know he had to be the one who unlocked the storage room, and that his DNA was on the murder weapon. I think we have enough evidence to show that he’s the only possible culprit. The only thing we’re missing is motive.”

Athena and Apollo exchanged glances. “Well, we might be able to help you there,” Apollo said. “Did you know that Esther was leading a unionizing effort at the factory?”

“Yes, we did hear that,” Nahyuta said. “Are you saying that’s why Taft killed her?”

“It’s possible,” Apollo said. “As the foreman, a union would’ve undermined his power.”

“Enough to kill over?” Simon questioned.

“People kill for less,” Apollo said with a shrug. “But, it’s also feasible that he was getting pressure from higher up. We found a couple memos addressed to him from management. They’re very vague, but they do sound threatening.”

“Memos? How did our dear defense attorneys come across those?” Nahyuta asked.

Apollo sighed. “We… may or may not have done some rooting around in the office recycling bin. Here, just take a look.”

Apollo grabbed his backpack and fished out one of the folders he kept evidence in. He pulled out a few sheets of paper, each laminated and slightly crooked. Nahyuta frowned as he slid them across the table.

“Were these… shredded?” he asked, gaze sliding over the reassembled documents.

“They may have been,” Apollo said. “I may also have approximately 7 paper cuts on my hands from putting them back together. By myself.”

“Hey, it’s not my fault you’re better at puzzles than me!” Athena said. “Besides, it ended up being useful, didn’t it? It was a good idea.”

“You realize these are definitely not admissible in court?” Simon asked.

Athena shrugged. “Yeah, but they’re helpful context. A good starting point for further investigation, no?”

“We’ll see,” Simon grumbled, pulling the sheets the rest of the way across the table. Nahyuta leaned in so they could both read them.

Apollo hadn’t been kidding when he’d said the threats were vague. Most of the memos’ contents were irrelevant— instructions for shipments and inventory requests, things like that. There were, however, scattered references to an unnamed “other task”.

“Remember your other task will be reviewed next week. If you do not meet expectations, you will be terminated,” Simon read aloud from one.

“Your other task should be prioritized,” Nahyuta read from another. “It is your responsibility to take whatever measures necessary to complete it.”

“See what I mean? They’re super vague, but clearly Taft was supposed to be doing something. And I don’t like the sound of “whatever measures necessary,” Apollo said with a shudder.

“It’s… admittedly not very much, Pepper. I hate to say it, but this “other task” could be anything. We don’t know if it has anything to do with Esther or the union.” Nahyuta said.

“Think about it, though!” Apollo insisted. “Management would have a huge stake in wanting any unionizing efforts shut down. It’d make a major dent in their profits. Plus, it’d make sense to have Taft do their dirty work— he’d be harmed by a union too, and he knows all the workers since he directly oversees them. And what else would management be so hush-hush about?”

“That makes sense, sure, but it’s far from the only possible explanation,” Nahyuta said, shaking his head. “And even if that was the case, why’d Taft decide to kill her? Surely there were other, less drastic measures he could have taken to stymie the union effort.”

“Maybe he’d tried everything else already,” Apollo suggested. “Desperate times, desperate measures.”

Nahyuta paused for a moment, considering this. “I don’t know if you’re right,” he said, “but it’s an avenue worth pursuing. Thanks for the tip, Apollo. And Athena.”

Simon nodded. “We do appreciate it. It’ll be good having this in our arsenal before we interview Taft.”

“No problem,” Apollo said. “Though I can’t believe the two of you are thanking a pair of putrid defense attorneys.”

Nahyuta groaned. “Are you never going to let me live that down?”

“Nah. It’s too funny.”

“I’m not sure why I’m being roped into this,” Simon said.

Athena snorted. “C’mon Simon, I know you’ve slung just as many insults in our direction.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Simon replied. “The only thing I’ve “slung” at the defense is evidence. And occasionally Taka.”

“Taka is worse than an insult,” Apollo grumbled.

Simon’s eyes flashed. “Say that again.”

Apollo gulped. “I mean…”

“Ix-nay on the ird-bay lander-say, Apollo,” Athena stage-whispered. 

“Yeah, I got that, Athena, thanks.”

“Ms.— er, Athena, rather. What language is that you were speaking just now?” Nahyuta asked. “I don’t recognize it.”

“Uh,” Athena replied, “… pig latin?”

Nahyuta frowned. “Excuse me?”

Apollo snorted. “They don’t teach that in Khura’in?”

“Wh— you know they don’t, Apollo!”

“It’s not really—“ Athena started, only to be cut off mid-sentence by Simon.

“It’s a very old and sacred language,” he said solemnly. “I’m surprised you don’t know it.”

“Hm,” Nahyuta said. “I’ll have to do some research when I have the chance. Pig latin, you said? That’s a very strange name.”

“Hey, don’t dunk on white people’s culture,” Simon said, “it’s important to them.”

Apollo let out another snort. Nahyuta narrowed his eyes.

“Why do I feel like there’s something you are withholding from me?” he asked.

Simon gasped in mock indignation. “Would I, your trusted roommate and colleague, sit here and lie to you?” 

“Yes. Absolutely.”

Simon laughed, bumping Nahyuta’s shoulder with his. “Fair. Just look it up, Sad Monk, you’ll see what I mean.”

“… If you insist.”

“I do,” Simon said, grinning at him. 

Nahyuta gave him one last suspicious look before turning his attention back to the table. On the other side, Apollo was still containing his snickers, while Athena was looking at Simon strangely.

“Hey, Simon, remember that thing you said you’d help me with? We should do that this afternoon.” she said, tone a tad too casual.

“What thing?” Simon asked.

“The thing,” Athena said. “The super urgent thing. Actually, we should go do that. Like now.”

She hopped up from the booth, grabbing Simon’s hand (not his wrist, Nahyuta noticed) and giving him a tug. “Come on, I’ll explain on the way.”

“… Fine. Let me get the bill first, at least. Christ.”

Simon pulled his hand from Athena’s grasp, using it to flag down Bucky, who returned to their table with the receipt in a small black billfold. Nahyuta and Simon squabbled over it for a moment before deciding to split it 50/50. Neither Apollo nor Athena made any move to pay for themselves. 

“Freeloading parasites, those siblings of ours,” Nahyuta muttered under his breath as he passed over his credit card.

“Truly,” Simon chuckled. “Is it alright by you if I go help Athena with… whatever is apparently urgent? I know we’ve still got work to do on the Taft case.”

Nahyuta shook his head. “No, no, it’s fine. Taft doesn’t even have a court date yet.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to end up taking on all the work by yourself.”

“Panda, really. I can handle myself for one afternoon.”

“Can you? Last time I left you to your own devices, you wound up passed out on a factory floor with a concussion.”

“That was an extenuating circumstance.”

“Still, you should—“

“Simon,” Athena cut in, “you’re mother-henning again.”

Simon shot a venomous glare in her direction. “I am not.”

“You kinda are,” Apollo agreed.

Simon huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “Well, excuse me for being concerned for my coworker’s wellbeing.”

“I do not mind it,” Nahyuta said softly. 

Apollo looked at him incredulously.

“Really?” he asked. “Because normally you’d bite my head off for so much as suggesting that you take a break.”

“Well,” Nahyuta said, “perhaps I am simply growing more accustomed to being cared about.”

His statement was met with a shocked silence. Nahyuta felt his cheeks begin to heat as he realized the implications of what he’d just said. 

“I… I only meant in a professional capacity, that is,” he sputtered.

More silence.

Abruptly, Simon stood up from the table. He jerked his head in Athena’s direction, indicating that she should follow him. As he pulled on his coat, he glanced back at the table.

“You alright getting back on foot?” he asked, looking at Apollo.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, Yuta and I can walk,” Apollo said.

Simon grunted in acknowledgement. “Good.”

He turned, gaze lingering on Nahyuta for just a second. Nahyuta felt his face flush even more.

“You know, Sad Monk,” he said quietly, “I do care about you. And not just in a professional capacity.”

With that, Simon turned and strode out the door, his pace a tad more brisk than usual. Athena’s gaze bounced back and forth between the two of them momentarily, her mouth agape, before she gathered herself and raced after Simon with a quick shout of “Uh, adios!”.

Nahyuta was left in the booth with Apollo, who was looking at him with suspicion. He tried to avoid his brother’s piercing gaze, but he already knew it was an exercise in futility.

“You wanna tell me what that was about?” Apollo asked, breaking the silence. 

“Not particularly,” Nahyuta said, hiding his face in his hands.

More silence. Nahyuta wished fervently that the earth would open up and swallow him whole.

“Alright. I won’t push it, then.” Apollo said, eventually.

Nahyuta looked up. “Really?”

“Yes, really. I mean, I won’t deny I’m curious, but I’m not going to force you to talk to me.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. I hope you know you can talk to me, if you want to,” Apollo said, eyes searching Nahyuta’s. “But it’s your decision.”

Nahyuta blinked. “Thanks, Apollo,” he said softly. “I do want to talk to you, it’s just… well, I haven’t quite figured out what’s going on myself.”

“Yeah, I get that,” Apollo said, nodding. “For what it’s worth, though, I’ve never seen Blackquill act so… normally around someone. And my bracelet didn’t react at all when he said he cared about you, so. At the very least, he wasn’t lying.”

“Right,” Nahyuta said faintly, feeling overwhelmed by it all. “Right.”

July 25th, 2:15 PM

Whet Noodle Parking Lot

Athena pounced on him the second she stepped out the door.

“Simon! What the hell was that?” she hollered, jogging to catch up with him.

“Nothing,” Simon growled.

“Nothing? Then why is your heart giving off so much noise, huh?”

“Athena, my emotions are always noisy.”

“Yeah, but not like this!” Athena insisted. “Come on, Simon, talk to me! Let me help you.”

“I don’t need help,” Simon spat, irritated.

“Simon!” Athena reached out, catching his upper arm just as they reached the car and forcing him to turn back and look at her.

“What.”

“Just… you’re not bottling shit up again, are you?”

Simon felt the spark of anger inside him sputter and die. He sighed.

“No, Athena, I’m not, I’m just… confused. Overwhelmed, I guess.”

Athena looked at him, blue eyes searching gray. “Alright. So talk to me about it. I won’t judge. I won’t even say anything if that’s what you want.”

Simon gave her a dry look. “What would be the point of that?”

Athena threw her hands up in the air. “I don’t know! But there’s a lot of discord in your heart right now and it’s really, really hard to ignore.”

Simon sighed. There was no use in arguing; Athena could be incredibly persistent when she wanted to.

“Alright, fine. Get in the car, at least. I’m not doing this with you in a bloody parking lot.”

July 25th, 2:45 PM

Cykes & Woods Residence

Twenty minutes later, Simon found himself sitting on one end of Athena’s overstuffed yellow couch. The room was warm, so much so that even without his coat, Simon felt a bit overheated. He supposed it was for the sake of the many, many plants that surrounded them— courtesy of Juniper, most likely. They were lovely, but the heat was making Simon itch.

Athena waltzed in from the kitchen, two water glasses in hand. She gave one to Simon and held on carefully to the other as she situated herself on the other end of the couch. Once she’d settled into whatever pretzel-like shape was somehow comfortable for her, she level Simon with a glare.

“Alright. Out with it. What’s bothering you?”

Simon didn’t respond, instead taking a long sip of his water.  

“Okay… do you want me to guess?”

Simon sighed, setting his water glass down.

“It’s about Nahyuta, isn’t it?” Athena asked.

Simon nodded. “It’s not a problem, not really. I’m not trying to be avoidant. I’m just not sure how I feel. Which makes talking about my feelings a bit difficult.”

Athena nodded slowly. “So, you don’t want to talk to him about your feelings because you aren’t sure what they are.”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, well. Tell me how you think you feel.”

“I just said—“

“That you don’t know, yeah, but you have at least some idea, right? I’m not Nahyuta, so if you say something that ends up not really being how you feel, then no harm no foul. That’s what you’re worried about, isn’t it? Telling him something that winds up being wrong?”

Simon looked over at her, perched on the couch and looking at him intensely. He’d forgotten how well she could read him these days.

“Your heart was sounding awfully happy when you were talking to him, earlier. And don’t think I didn’t hear that bit about “caring in a non-professional capacity,” Athena added.

Simon sighed, leaning back and sinking into the couch in defeat. 

“You’re right, it is about him. Or about us, rather.”

“What about you?”

“We’re… involved, I suppose. We haven’t really talked about it yet but it seems like it could turn into a relationship,” Simon started. “Only, the thing is… I haven’t been in a relationship with anyone for over a decade at this point. I’m not even sure I know what romantic attraction feels like anymore. What if I think I want to be romantically involved with him but really it’s just physical? I’m not sure I’m capable of telling the two apart anymore.”

“Romantically involved? So this isn’t just about getting along as roommates?”

Simon shot her a look. “I assumed you’d figured that bit out already.” he said, “given you can literally hear my heart.”

Athena shrugged. “Even so, I try not to jump to conclusions. You know as well as I do that there’s more than one way to read an emotion. I can’t read your mind; I don’t know what you’re thinking. Only what you’re feeling.”

“And what am I feeling?” Simon asked, exasperated.

Athena paused, hand coming up to her neck. “Do you want me to use Widget?” she asked.

Simon thought about it for a moment, then nodded. “Might as well. We’ve gotten this far.”

“Alright, gimme a sec then,” Athena said, pressing the button hidden at Widget’s side that activated its console. She swiped through the interface for a moment, eyes scanning up and down as she took in Widget’s readings. Simon could see the noise level icon in the lower corner— it looked like there was quite a lot of it. Wonderful.

“Okay, so… I’m seeing a mix of things. Happiness, confusion, and sadness, mainly, to varying degrees.”

“I could have told you that,” Simon said dryly. 

Athena stretched out one leg and kicked at the side of his knee. “Hey! Don’t be a smart-ass, Simon, we have to start somewhere.”

“Fine, fine, just don’t break my kneecaps. Christ.”

“Maybe I should. Then you’ll know what it feels like to be short like the rest of us. Might be good for your ego,” Athena suggested. 

“I would simply ask Aura to build me robot legs. Then I’d be even taller.” Simon countered.

“Bold of you to assume she’d say yes.”

“Eh, Aura’s a softie at heart. I could crack her.”

“Simon, everyone knows you’re the soft one.” Athena said, rolling her eyes.

“No, they don’t. I’m terrifying.”

“You keep on telling yourself that,” Athena said. “Anyways. We’re getting off track.” 

She pressed a few buttons on the interface. “Now, tell me about something that happened between you and Nahyuta that you’re struggling to process.”

Simon took a deep breath, thinking back over the last couple weeks. Had it really been so recently that Nahyuta had moved in? It felt like they’d been living together for ages. Strange.

After some internal deliberation, he settled on telling Athena about their interaction after the trial this morning.

“He kissed me, this morning. In the courtroom, after everyone else had left. I wasn’t expecting it. It certainly wasn’t unwelcome, but it was rather intense. So much so that I… kind of ran away afterwards.”

“Was that the first time he’d kissed you?”

Simon shook his head. “No. We’d kissed before, but in a different context. That was more kissing just for the fun of it. This morning felt more… domestic. He kissed me the other night when we got home, too. That felt similar.”

“Hm.” Athena stroked her chin with the hand not controlling Widget. “I’m still seeing the same  emotions— just the emotions, by the way, I’m not using the visual option for this.”

Simon shuddered. “I’d forgotten Widget could do that.”

Athena snorted, giving him a look. “Hey, I’m just sparing myself the sight of you doing—“ she gestured about in the air— “whatever it is you two’ve gotten up to.”

“We’ve only kissed, Athena.”

“Well, I didn’t know that when we started, now did I? Like I said. No assumptions.” Athena turned her attention back to Widget. “Anyways. Same core emotions, but different intensity levels. I’m seeing more confusion and sadness than before. Any idea why?”

“Confusion? What do I have to be confused about?” Simon asked, brow furrowing.

“Well, confusion is just the umbrella category. It could also be a similar feeling like disbelief or uncertainty.”

“Uncertainty, eh?” Simon echoed. “I suppose I felt uncertain about Nahyuta’s intentions when he kissed me. I don’t know why he did it.”

“Why he did it? How do you mean?”

“I mean— come on, Athena, you’ve met the two of us. Our whole relationship started out with us trading insults— you saw it firsthand. I— what if he’s just doing it to… I don’t know, one-up me somehow?”

“… by kissing you?”

“Flustering me, more like.” Simon said. 

Athena pursed her lips. “So… you’re worried this is just a game to him.”

Simon took a moment to let that thought sink in. Was he afraid of that? An image of Nahyuta’s smirking face, seen from the other side of the courtroom during their early days, passed through his mind’s eye.

“Yeah,” he said, “I think that’s sort of it. I don’t like the idea of him playing with my emotions.”

“You don’t know if that’s what he’s doing, though.”

“No,” Simon conceded. “And I’d like to think we’ve genuinely connected with one another over the past few weeks, romantic stuff aside. We’ve had some pretty heavy conversations. I do trust him, at least a little.”

“If he’s trusted you like that before, why would he be playing with your emotions now?”

“He wouldn’t,” Simon said, sighing. “I’m being paranoid.”

Athena shook her head. “Simon, it’s okay if you’re struggling to let someone get close to you. That’s hard, even without—“

“Trust issues?” Simon finished.

“I was going to say “baggage”, but that works too.” Athena said. “Anyways. It sounds to me like you’re scared of opening up and being vulnerable with him, and that fear is manifesting in this idea that he’s trying to trick you, even though you don’t have much evidence to support that claim.”

“Yeah, that sounds about right. It seems so straightforward when you just say it like that.”

“It’s easier from an outside perspective. And besides, I know how you think.”

“Hmph. You’re scary sometimes.”

“Learned from the best,” Athena replied, flashing him a grin. “Now, let me input that and see what we’ve got…” 

Athena returned her attention to Widget’s screen, tapping rapidly with the index finger of her gloved hand. “Ok, so acknowledging that fear brought the noise level down. There’s still some confusion— or uncertainty, rather. What else are you worried about besides Nahyuta’s intentions?”

“My own,” Simon said, surprising himself with how easily the answer surfaced. 

“Your intentions?”

“Yeah. Like I was saying earlier, I’m not sure what they are. I don’t know what I want from him.”

“Ok, so you’re still working out your own feelings. That’s what we’re here for. I think we can safely say you feel something strong towards him.”

“Yes. Which used to be loathing, but is now… very much not.”

“Right. So, baseline. What do you feel when you’re around Nahyuta?”

Simon sighed, closing his eyes as he took himself back through their past interactions. How did being around Nahyuta make him feel?

“I feel… excited, when I see him,” he started, hesitantly. “I like being around him, being close to him. I’m pleased when he’s with me. 

Simon paused, thinking how best to phrase his thoughts. “I feel an affinity with him, somehow. I’m more comfortable around him than I should be around someone I’ve only gotten to know for a couple months.”

“Okay. Why do you think that is?”

Simon shrugged. “He understands me. I feel seen around him. And normally I wouldn’t consider that a good thing, but with him, it’s… nice.”

Athena nodded slowly. “He’s important to you.”

It was more-so a statement than a question, but Simon responded anyways.

“Yeah. He is. I’m not sure when that happened, but it did.”

“Alright. So you feel pretty strongly about him. What do you think of him, as a person?”

“I think he’s complicated,” Simon said.

Athena raised an eyebrow, but he continued before she could speak. “I know that’s a non-answer. But it’s true, he’s just… there’s so many different sides of him.”

“So tell me about them,”

“Well, for one, he’s stubborn. He’s got plenty of demons, but he never lets them show. It’s not my place to share them, but he’s so sure that he’s a bad person. He went through hell in Khura’in and I know he’s trying really hard to make amends, but he still blames himself.”

He paused for a moment.

“The thing is… he’s a completely different person outside of court. He’s not how I though he was at all. He’s shy. Whenever I get him to come out of his shell, to laugh or even smile, I feel like it’s some great accomplishment. He’s got a good sense of humor, if you can find it. He doesn’t do anything in halves— not in his work or his personal life. He’s incredibly loyal, especially to his family. He’s just.. he’s a good person and for whatever reason I feel this need to make him see that.”

Simon let out a long breath.

“But what if that need is just because he reminds me of myself? What if I’m mistaking the desire to help him for romantic desire? What if—“

“Simon,” Athena cut in, “I highly doubt that.”

Simon shot her a dubious glance. She sighed.

“Look, you might not have much experience with romantic feelings. But you are very familiar with the feeling of wanting to help someone, Simon. You’ve felt that every day for years. Tell me, did the way you felt when you defended me in court feel at all like how you’re feeling now?”

“… No.” Simon admitted. “But that’s completely different.”

“How so?” Athena challenged. “You wanted to help me because you believed I was a good person and didn’t deserve to be treated badly. Is that not the same thing you’re trying to do for him?”

“So there’s some similarities. That doesn’t mean I should feel exactly the same.”

“Okay, sure, but you’d expect those feelings to be at least a bit similar, right? And from what you’ve told me, it doesn’t sound like they are.”

Athena sighed, full of fond exasperation. “Simon. I very much doubt you feel all those happy, squishy feelings for him because you want to help him. You do want to help him, I think, but more broadly, you just want him.”

Simon felt his face start to flush. “But—“

“And I don’t think it’s a physical attraction either, because you have yet to mention a single word about how Nahyuta looks. Which is saying something, because even I can tell that man is gorgeous and I know you’re a sucker for a pretty face.”

Simon let his head fall into his hands, covering his face with a groan. 

“Look,” Athena said, scooting along the couch so she could place one hand gently on his arm. “I can’t tell you why you feel what you feel. I’m just giving you my best guess. But listening to you talk about him… it sounds romantic. I mean, I can hear the happiness in your heart spike when I so much as mention him, and it doesn’t sound the same as the happiness you feel for me or for your other friends. I know you’re scared of misleading him, but I really don’t think you are.”

She squeezed his arm. “You’ve got it bad, Simon.”

Simon snorted. “Is that your official diagnosis?”

“Yep.”

“Christ.”

Athena grinned. “I know this is all very serious feelings stuff, but it’s fun seeing you be all romantic.”

Simon scowled, pulling his arm from her grasp. “Don’t get used to it. This was a one-time thing. I’m not giving you a free pass to analyze all my feelings.” 

“Ah, there’s the grumpy pants I know and love. Romance hasn’t changed you one bit.”

“Oh, bugger off.”

“That sure is a funny way of pronouncing “Thanks, Athena! You’ve been really helpful!”

Simon glared at her. “Like you weren’t begging me to tell you in the first place. You’re so nosy.”

“Me? Nosy? I’d never!”

“No, he’s right about that one. You are kinda nosy, ‘Thena,” came a soft voice from behind the couch.

Simon nearly jumped out of his skin. He whipped around to find Juniper, arms laden with shopping bags, standing in the doorway.

“Junie! You’re home!” Athena bounced up from the couch to greet her girlfriend, all accusations of nosiness forgotten. 

Juniper smiled as Athena kissed her on the cheek. “Oh, don’t worry,” she said as her gaze slid over to Simon’s half-startled, half-horrified expression, “I only just walked in. I didn’t hear anything except that last sentence.”

She looked pointedly at Athena. “I’m not as nosy as this one,” she said. “I’m surprised you didn’t hear the door, though.”

Simon felt the knot of apprehension in his chest loosen. He was surprised he hadn’t heard her come in— usually, he was hyper-aware of his surroundings. He didn’t like being snuck up on, and was rarely caught so off-guard.

Thankfully, it had only been Juniper, and she wasn’t the sort to lie about eavesdropping. Simon’s mushy, romantic secrets were safe— for now.

Athena, meanwhile, had taken the grocery bags out of Juniper’s hands and was now darting around the kitchen, putting everything away. Juniper sat at the kitchen counter, having been forced to rest by her girlfriend, a cup of tea that said girlfriend had produced at some point sitting in front of her. Juniper had her chin resting on one hand and she watched Athena with a soft sort of reverence, even as she was doing nothing more than putting away groceries. Even a stranger could see, just from a single glance, how in love with each other they were.

Simon felt a twinge in his stomach. Was that what he wanted? Did he want someone to look at him like that? Did he already look at Nahyuta like that?

Simon shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. That wasn’t the way to go about things; even if he and Nahyuta ended up in some sort of romantic partnership, they’d still be completely different from Juniper and Athena, because they were completely different people. There was no point in making comparisons. He had to figure things out for himself.

Simon stood up from the couch, groaning slightly as his back creaked in protest. “I’m leaving, Athena,” he called out, grabbing his coat off the back of the couch and slipping it back on.

Athena’s head poked out from the kitchen. “Oh, ok! Good talk. Let me know if you wanna do it again sometime!”

Simon laughed. “Yeah, next time I feel a need to have someone rooting around in my head hole, I’ll give you a call.”

Athena stuck out her tongue. “It was good for you and you know it!” she said, disappearing back into the kitchen.

Simon rolled his eyes, even though she couldn’t see him. She was right, but he wasn’t about to admit it.

Juniper smiled at him from the counter, looking slightly apologetic. “Good to see you, Simon!” she chirped, waving goodbye with a small smile.

“Later!” came Athena’s voice from past the dividing wall.

“Bye.” Simon said, and made his exit.

Once in the apartment’s corridor, he glanced down at his watch; it was late afternoon, coming up on 4PM. He needed to get to the office— he had paperwork to do, and other cases to catch up on that had fallen by the wayside during the Hartley investigation.  Thankfully, Chief Prosecutor Edgeworth wasn’t particular about what hours his employees worked, so long as they got their work done on time. It wasn’t unusual for Simon to be absent during the day and work late into the evening instead, and today looked like it would be one of those days.

As he stepped into his car, Simon wondered if Nahyuta would be at the office as well. He may have worked out some of his feelings thanks to Athena’s impromptu therapy session, but the idea of talking to the Sad Monk about them was still daunting. 

The office wasn’t the right place for that kind of conversation, anyways. He’d wait until they were both home. Besides, it would be good for him to put his mind on something else for a while. His feelings— and the person he had them for— would still be there tomorrow.

Chapter Text

JULY 25 ^TH , 9:00 PM

BLACKQUILL & SAHDMADHI RESIDENCE

Nahyuta hadn’t been in the office.

Simon tried not to think too much of it; just because the man had said he’d be working this afternoon doesn’t mean he’d be doing it in the office. He was probably off investigating somewhere. No big deal. Simon would see him at home later; they could talk then.

Or, that’s what Simon thought, until he arrived home to the sight of Nahyuta dragging a suitcase out their front door.

“Sad Monk?” he asked, unable to keep the surprise from his voice. “Are you going somewhere?”

Nahyuta whipped around, clearly startled.

“Oh! Panda, it’s you,” he said. “And yes, I am. There’s been a bit of an incident back home. Rayfa called me a few hours ago. I’m needed in-person, I’m afraid.”

“Ah. Is Her Benevolence alright?”

“Yes, yes she’s fine. It’s nothing bad, really. Just a development in a case I prosecuted.”

“Right,” Simon said, wondering what kind of development could possibly be serious enough for Nahyuta to need to attend to it himself. 

Nahyuta sighed. “I… I’d explain more, but I really do need to go. My flight is leaving soon and going through international customs always takes ages.”

“Oh! Of course, of course,” Simon said, stepping aside so Nahyuta could pass by him. Nahyuta started down the hallway but hesitated when he reached Simon, eyes uncertain.

Before he could overthink it, Simon reached out to grasp the monk’s chin, lifting it slightly. Nahyuta leaned into the touch, which he took as a good sign.

“May I?” he asked.

Nahyuta nodded. Simon guided him closer and kissed him gently, just for a moment. A simple, soft brush of lips. Then, he pulled back, hand trailing down Nahyuta’s neck to land on his shoulder.

“Be careful, alright?” he said, giving him a light squeeze.

Nahyuta’s hand came up to cover his own. He threaded their fingers together.

“I will try to be,” he said, squeezing back. “Goodbye for now, Simon.”

And with that, he was gone.

JULY 25 ^TH , 9:35 PM

LOS ANGELES AIRPORT, INTERNATIONAL TERMINAL

There were few things that Nahyuta Sahdmadhi hated more than airport customs.

People thought, often, that because Nahyuta was technically royalty, he had some sort of special pass that got him through customs ahead of everyone else. He wished this was true; in Khura’in, it partially was, but only because it was a small enough country that the agents always recognized him right away, and knew how to handle his documents.

On the U.S. side, though, it was an absolute nightmare.

He almost always got flagged for additional searches, either by the TSA or by customs agents. He was used to standing awkwardly next to linoleum counters, watching strangers rifle carelessly through his things. It was also common for him to be asked to step aside and wait for a more senior agent, as whatever agent had had the misfortune of calling him had never processed a Khura’inian passport before and didn’t know the proper procedure. 

Even before Nahyuta set foot inside the airport, he was tense. He knew that there was a high probability that something would go wrong, especially today. His reasons were these: first, it was summer, which always meant more air traffic thanks to Western vacationers; second, that it was an evening flight, which meant that security and customs would likely be backlogged already thanks to delayed flights from earlier in the day; and third, that he was in a terrible rush, so naturally, something would have to go wrong.

It did not take long for his theory to prove correct. Customs was packed with travelers, and Nahyuta had the misfortune of getting an agent too proud to admit he didn’t know what to do with him. Nahyuta had been rather harsh with him, demanding to speak with a manager after the man gave him the wrong paperwork for the third time. Apollo had called him a “Karen” once after he’d pulled a similar maneuver; he still wasn’t quite sure what that meant, but he suspected it was not a good thing.

Anyways. Karen or not, the sharp demand had worked, and Nahyuta had managed to get through customs and to his gate just minutes before boarding closed. As he settled into his seat, he took a moment to thank the Holy Mother for allowing him passage and ask that she see him safely to his sister’s side. He hadn’t caught all the details over the phone, but from what she’d explained, the situation back home wasn’t looking good.

Apparently, someone who’d been freed following the repeal of the Defense Culpability Act had been accused of committing a crime. It wasn’t anything particularly heinous— the man had been caught selling goods illegally on the black market, taking advantage of the demand for Khura’inian products generated by their strict trade laws (yet another remnant from Ga’ran that they had yet to reassess). Normally, such a thing wouldn’t be a huge deal— but because the culprit was an exoneree, a group of Ga’ran’s remaining loyalists had latched on to the story, claiming it was evidence that Ga’ran had been right to have them locked up in the first place. The new regime was to blame— they were too lenient, and as a result, crime would surely run rampant throughout Khura’in. 

Such sentiments had resulted in protests igniting around the Justice Ministry and around the Royal Palace. Nahyuta worried for both Rayfa’s safety and the durability of the new legal system he and Apollo had only just put into place. They needed to show that their new system worked; that criminals, real criminals, would be brought to justice. They couldn’t afford to have this go sideways; it would only add fuel to the fire stoked by those who had opposed Ga’ran’s dethroning. 

Khura’in was barely stable as-is. Rayfa was doing wonderfully, but even so, as a new ruler, she simply hadn’t had time to earn her people’s loyalty and respect. In that same vein, it was hard to dispel Ga’ran’s lasting influence, even though she’d been gone for years. She may have done horrible things, but she still had her fair share of supporters. Nahyuta refused to allow them to erase the progress that had been made in the years since Ga’ran’s rule had ended.

So, he was coming back, to support the prosecution in its case and to help Rayfa deal with those threatening insurrection. Khura’in wasn’t where he wanted to be going, but he had a duty to his homeland, and he would not shirk it. He wouldn’t make his sister face this alone.

He was sad, though, to be leaving L.A. Even if it was only temporary, he didn’t know how long this excursion would take, or if the tentative new life he’d started building would still be here when he returned. He felt guilty, worrying about his own personal relationships when there were so many important things at stake. His own life problems were small potatoes compared to many issues plaguing Khura’in. He couldn’t afford to waste his energy on those. Not right now. 

Even so, as he settled in for the long flight, he found his mind wandering back to Simon, and the fragile new thing that had blossomed between them. He thought he’d overstepped, what with the barely-contained affection that had overflowed from him. He’d thought that maybe Simon hadn’t wanted anything more than a sexual relationship— that he didn’t want the casual touches or soft, impromptu kisses. The idea had made Nahyuta ache. Sure, he wasn’t exactly sure what he himself wanted out of the relationship— but it had felt so, so good to finally have someone to release those affections onto. 

What with his aunt and his status as a monk, Nahyuta had never been in a proper relationship before. He knew he was touch-starved; he’d learned that from Apollo after an impromptu hug that had sent him nearly to tears. Originally, his attraction to Simon had been physical— the man was hot and he’d noticed. What he hadn’t expected, though, was the overwhelming need to be close to him, or the way being able to touch him felt positively euphoric. 

Once they’d kissed, once they’d crossed that line and given in, it had been as easy as breathing for Nahyuta to show Simon affection in a more romantic way, with small kisses and touches. Or, it had been, until Simon had run away from him in the courtroom, and Nahyuta had realized that making out with someone and being in a relationship with them were two very, very different things.

He’d thought, for a moment, that Simon wanted nothing to do with romance. But then there was the hand-holding at Whet Noodle, and Simon telling him he cared about him. Those had felt romantic, certainly. And then there’d been that moment in the hallway. 

Closing his eyes, Nahyuta recalled their earlier interaction. He remembered the weight of Simon’s hand on his shoulder, the surprisingly softness of his lips, the conflicted look in his eyes as they said goodbye. That look, so compelling that it had stopped Nahyuta dead in his tracks. A vision of him turning around and following Simon back into their apartment, abandoning his responsibilities in favor of pressing kisses against every inch of his skin, had flickered through his mind. His resolve had faltered, and he nearly decided to stay.

But that was a self-indulgent fantasy, one that Nahyuta had no right to pursue. He’d pushed the thought from his mind and exited the apartment, leaving Simon and all his complicated feelings behind. He couldn’t let himself be distracted, not now. Not when there was so much at risk.

Shaking his head, Nahyuta pulled his laptop out from his carry-on bag, turning it on and pulling up the existing files on the suspect he would be prosecuting. He needed to reacquaint himself with the case, make sure he had all the facts down before going to court. He forced himself to focus on the screen in front of him, falling back into the familiar rhythm of reviewing a case. Soon, he was immersed in it, his mind back on track where it needed to be.

He did not think of Simon again as the distance between them grew wider and wider. He thought only of his case, of his country, and of his growing sense of guilt for ever having left it.

JULY 26 ^TH , 8:45 PM

KHURA’INESE MINISTRY OF JUSTICE

Twelve hours later, Nahyuta found himself standing within the familiar stone walls of the Ministry of Justice. He was in one of the corridors of the upper floor, near a large window that faced out onto the front steps of the building. Past the steps, he could see the front gate— and the small but fierce group of protestors camped out in front of it.

The royal guards had taken him here directly from the airport, slipping him in through a lesser-known entrance in the back, so he hadn’t passed the protesters on his way in. Though the distance and the pane of glass between them prevented him from hearing their shouts, he could see the animated shapes of their bodies in the flickering lamplight, the angry fists punching up into the air. It reminded him of the crowds that gathered in the days preceding Ga’ran’s unmasking, back when Nahyuta was still held firmly within her clutches. The sight made him feel sick.

“Braid Head!” A sharp voice suddenly rang out from the other end of the corridor. Nahyuta, despite his earlier train of thought, found himself suppressed a smile as he turned away from the window. There was only one person who could possibly be addressing him as such, and regardless of the circumstances, he was excited to see her.

Rayfa was standing at the end of the corridor, staff in hand. Despite her use of the lighthearted nickname, he could see that she was anything but relaxed. Her eyes were stormy and her jaw was set, her mouth pressed into a thin, serious line. She was standing tall, shoulders back, maximizing space just as Nahyuta had taught her, projecting a confidence that he suspected she didn’t really feel. To anyone who wasn’t her brother, she looked the perfect picture of a young monarch.

“Rayfa,” he said, unable to help the smile from spreading across his face as he crossed the hallway, coming to stand by her side. She hadn’t yet managed to outgrow him, but she was certainly closer to eye-level than she had been back when Nahyuta was acting as regent. He raised one hand, placing it gently on her shoulder. He could feel her tremble slightly slightly beneath his palm.

"Are you alright?"  he asked softly in Khura’inese.

Rayfa’s jaw tightened. She stood up a little straighter. "I’m fine." she said.

"You sound like our dear Apollo,” Nahyuta said. "You know, I would understand if you weren’t all that fine right now. There’s a lot going on."

Her nose twitched. "I can handle it," she said, raising her chin.

"I never said otherwise,” Nahyuta replied. “Handling something is not the same as being okay with it." 

Rayfa sniffled slightly. She glanced around the hallway, which was deserted besides the two of them. Once she’d confirmed this, Nahyuta had only a split second to brace himself before she pitched forward into his arms with a small cry.

Nahyuta staggered back slightly from the force of the collision. Rayfa had grown into a rather strong adult, and sometimes forgot to temper her own strength. Nahyuta recovered quickly, though, his arms wrapping around his sister and holding her close. He ran one hand gently up and down her back in a soothing motion.

“Hey, hey it’s alright. I’m here," he murmured. She let out a ragged sob and buried her face in the front of his overcoat.

If there was any interpersonal relationship that Nahyuta was proud of, it was the one he’d built with his sister. When she’d first learned that he was her brother, things had been rather awkward. Rayfa had been only a teenager at the time, and was dealing with the realization that the people she’d called family had been lying to her for her entire life. Nahyuta, who hadn’t played the part of older brother in over a decade, wasn’t sure  if she even wanted him to be her brother, rather than her regent and advisor.

They’d kept each other at arms length for a while, until Nahyuta had come across her crying in Minister Inga’s old chambers, which had yet to be repurposed since his death. Nahyuta had frozen, still hidden in the doorway, and realized he had no idea how to handle the situation. He’d considered going to find their mother, who understood Rayfa far better than he, but thought better of it. If there was one thing he remembered of his own teenage years, it was pushing Dhurke away countless times for trying to help him, born out of the shame he felt for his own tears.

He’d ended up slipping silently away, leaving her to work through her sadness on her own terms. The incident had bothered him, though. He couldn’t help but think of Apollo, of the way he’d described the utter loneliness of being left alone in America during some of the late night heart-to-hearts they’d had since he moved to Khura’in. Nahyuta hadn’t been able to be there for him. How could he stand by and let Rayfa go through the same thing? He was here, this time. He could help her, if only he knew how.

After much thought, he had decided to ask Apollo. After all, he wasn’t the only person he knew who’d recently acquired a little sister, albeit under very different circumstances. He’d gone to see Apollo the very next day, waking him just after dawn. Apollo had been quite irate with him until he’d explained why he’d come. He’d told him that he was worried for Rayfa and didn’t know how to approach being her brother, and begged him to help.

Apollo had given a world-weary sigh, gone to put on tea for the both of them, then sat Nahyuta down at his rickety kitchen table.

“Look,” he’d said, “there’s no one way to be someone’s older brother. You know that. You can’t just expect a perfect sibling relationship to manifest overnight. And the situation with Trucy and I isn’t really comparable— I mean, we already had a sibling-like relationship before we found out the truth. Rayfa’s only ever seen you as an authority figure.”

Nahyuta had looked away. “So, it’s hopeless then?” he’d asked, half sarcastic and half serious.

Apollo had shaken his head. “No. You already know how to fix a sibling relationship. You’re doing it with me, have been for a while now. Maybe it’s easier because we had shared history from when we were kids, but honestly, I think the answer’s just been time. We’ve spent a lot of time together in the past few months, Nahyuta. I feel like I know you again. You just have to let her get to know you. That’s the foundation of any relationship, really.”

Nahyuta had been skeptical, but he’d figured attempting to get to know Rayfa couldn’t hurt. It had been a process of trial and error, with a lot of false start and missteps. Rayfa clearly felt awkward around him, and while they could work well together on issues of governance, the second thing turned to their personal lives, they both floundered. Nahyuta knew that if he wanted her to open up to him, he had to open up to her first— but that was easier said than done.

Ironically, the topic that had finally made a breakthrough between them was Ga’ran.

Nahyuta had been attempting to work through a new tax restructuring proposal with her when she’d snapped, frustrated by her own inability to comprehend the mathematics behind it.

"It’s no use!" she’d cried. "What kind of ruler am I supposed to be if I cannot comprehend basic governance? Mother was right. I’ll never be competent enough to be a good queen. I cannot have you sitting here by my side explaining everything forever! It is unacceptable for me to rely on other people to do everything! I’m never going to understand on my own. I cannot do it."

Defeated, she had slumped forward onto the table. It had taken Nahyuta a moment to realize that she’d mean Ga’ran, not Amara, when she’d referred to her mother. When he did, he felt his heart squeeze in his chest. 

"You know," he’d said, "I used to believe the same of myself."

Rayfa had looked up, clearly shocked by his soft-spoken response.

"When I was working as a prosecutor under Ga’ran, I always felt like such a failure," he continued, looking away. "I wasn’t strong enough to defy her, not on my own. I thought that meant I’d be under her thumb forever. But, even though I couldn’t overcome her on my own, I ended up being able to with help." 

He’d swallowed, forcing himself to look Rayfa directly in the eye. "You’ll never be a good ruler if you only rely on yourself. You, like anyone, have strengths and weaknesses. It is wise to surround yourself with others whose strengths complement yours. You do not have to do everything yourself, Rayfa. You cannot." 

He’d reached across the table, one hand landing on Rayfa’s shoulder, which he gave a gentle squeeze. "I’m still unlearning what she taught me, too. I know Ga’ran made you feel like anything less than perfection was unacceptable. I know that she made you terrified of failure. But you don’t have to be afraid of her, not anymore. I’m never going to be angry with you for struggling, Rayfa. It is very hard to admit when we need help, but trying to handle everything on your own will only wear you down. I can tell you that from experience." 

Rayfa had been silent for a moment, her eyes fixed on the documents in front of her rather than on Nahyuta. After a while, she’d spoken.

"Can you go over these with me one more time?"

"Of course," he’d said, feeling tentatively hopeful that he’d made some progress.

And make progress he had. After that, Rayfa began to open up to him more. It took a lot of coaxing, and Nahyuta struggled with letting her see the soft, vulnerable parts of him that he’d hidden away for so long. But over time, the two of them had slowly come to know, and then to trust, each other.

Rayfa had grown and matured at a rapid pace. She learned to accept help, to admit when she was wrong, and to accept feedback and criticism with grace. She stopped trying to bottle up her feelings. The first time she’d showed up at Nahyuta’s door late in the evening with tears in her eyes, asking if she could talk to him about something, he’d started crying himself. The two of them had ended up side-by-side on Nahyuta’s bed, where she’d tearfully admitted that sometimes, she missed her pseudo-parents, and asked if that made her an awful person. Nahyuta had reassured her that it did not, and they’d spent the night trading the few good memories they had from their time under Ga’ran’s rule. 

It became clear after that that the two siblings had an understanding of each other that no one else in the world did. They knew first-hand how the other had suffered, having suffered silently alongside them. 

Over the years, Rayfa and Nahyuta came to rely on each other. Their relationship may not have been the most traditional of sibling bonds, but they loved and trusted each other, even as each of them struggled with their own demons. They still had their scars and sometimes they’d lash out at each other or say the wrong thing, but they always reconciled afterwards. They’d had a massive argument, for example, when Nahyuta had decided to move to Los Angeles with Apollo, and Nahyuta guessed she was still a bit resentful towards him for it. But, as he’d explained to her, it would be best for her to lead outside of his shadow, and best for him to have a fresh start outside of Khura’in. She’d eventually come to understand his decision, even if she hadn’t much liked it.

It was the first time Nahyuta had been back to Khura’in since his move, and the first time he’d seen his sister in person for months. He’d taken longer and longer trips to L.A. in the year leading up to his departure, to prepare her for his absence, but this was still the longest they’d gone without seeing each other since Ga’ran’s downfall. 

He held his sister close as she cried, letting her release all the fear and tension she must have been holding. He felt a tear trail down his own cheek— he hadn’t even realized how scared he’d been for her, how relieving it was to know she was alright. He knew she was a cautious and careful person, and that she had a number of guards to protect her. Rationally, it had been highly likely that she was perfectly fine. But hearing that protests were breaking out, that people had been arrested, had sent a shard of icy fear straight through Nahyuta’s heart. 

"I just don’t know what to do," Rayfa said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I don’t know how to make them stop."

Nahyuta squeezed her a little tighter. "It’s alright," he said. "That’s what I’m here for. And what your advisors are here for. You need not figure this out on your own."

"But… but how can people still support her? After all this time? Will they ever be gone?" Rayfa asked.

Nahyuta desperately wanted to tell her that yes, of course they’d be gone, eventually— but he’d learned years ago that lying to people, even if well-intentioned, never ended well. Besides, Rayfa was an adult now. She could handle, and deserved, the truth.

"I don’t know, Rayfa," he admitted. "She had a lot of influence. You’ve only had a few years to correct what she did in twenty; people will come around in time, for the most part. Some people’s minds just cannot be changed, no matter how good a ruler you are. That is not a failure on your part."

Rayfa sniffled loudly, surely making a mess of Nahyuta’s coat. She tilted her head back so she could look him in the eyes. Her face was flushed red, features pinched as she tried to staunch her own tears.

"Are you certain?" she asked, lip trembling.

"Yes," he said emphatically, "I am certain you are doing the best you possibly could."

For a moment, Nahyuta felt a pang of regret for having left her on her own, but he brushed it aside— he’d made the right decision, leaving Khura’in and letting her spread her wings. She wasn’t alone; she had her advisors, and their mother besides. He’d come back as soon as it was clear she needed him. They would fix this, together. 

Upsetting as the situation was, Nahyuta found himself glad to be in his sister’s presence. He’d missed her terribly, despite their regular phone calls. There was a part of him that still awoke in the middle of the night, suddenly terrified for her safety. Actually being able to see and embrace her was reassuring; there was nothing like physical proof that she really was alright.

Just as Nahyuta thought this, a loud BANG resounded from outside. Both he and Rayfa jumped in surprise, Nahyuta instinctively pulling her closer. From the window behind her, he could see a cloud of smoke rising from outside the front gates. It didn’t look like anyone had actually broken through, but it wasn’t a good sign.

"Come," Nahyuta said, pulling away. "Let’s go to one of the internal meeting rooms. It’ll be safer there, and you can get me up to speed."

Rayfa nodded decisively, switching instantly back to her regal demeanor. Somehow, despite the redness of her face and her tear-swollen eyes, she still looked determined as ever.

The two of them headed down the hallway, through an internal staircase, and eventually stopped in one of the more interior rooms, one without windows or any other exposure to the outside world. Nahyuta cast a suspicious eye around the room to ensure it was empty before ushering Rayfa in and locking the door behind them.

"Where are your guards?" he asked, belatedly realizing that his sister should not have been able to come meet him on her own.

Rayfa at least had the sense to look a little sheepish. "I… may have taken off on my own once I heard you’d arrived," she admitted. 

Nahyuta sighed. "Still pulling that maneuver, then? I’d have a word with your guards if I didn’t already know that trying to contain you is like trying to contain smoke with cheesecloth. Did you at least let them know that you’re with me and you’re safe?"

Rayfa froze. "Give me one moment," she said, pulling her phone out of a pocket hidden somewhere in the folds of her dress.

While Rayfa shot off a frantic text (Nahyuta never could understand how she managed to type so fast on that tiny screen), Nahyuta settled down in one of the chairs around the conference room. He set his bag down on the chair next to him and rifled through it to find his laptop. By the time Rayfa had finished letting whatever poor soul had been searching for her know she was safe, Nahyuta had the relevant case files pulled up and ready to review.

“Right,” he said, switching to English as that was the language professional business in Khura’in tended to be conducted in., “so what happened?” 

Rayfa plopped down in the chair next to him not currently occupied by his bag with a sigh. “A lot. I let Minister Nayar know you’re here, so he should be joining us in a few minutes to work through the legal technicalities with you. But I’m aware of the basic situation, if you have any questions.”

Nahyuta nodded slowly. “You said on the phone it was an exoneree who’d been arrested.”

“Yes. His name’s Nirav Gulati. He was found guilty of conspiracy under Ga’ran.”

“Yes, I remember prosecuting his trial,” Nahyuta said. “He’d said something to his friends about the Queen being a suspicious character and Defiant Dragons having the right idea. Unfortunately for him, a guard overheard. That was more than enough for Ga’ran to have him convicted. For… for me to convict him, rather.”

Nahyuta cleared his throat, not wanting to dwell on his own sense of guilt. “We dropped all charges and sentences for him in our second round of reviews. Given Ga’ran was not a legitimate queen, speaking out against her was not a legitimate crime. He was released after being imprisoned for six months and compensated accordingly using the scheme Apollo and I developed.”

“Yes. His new charge, though, is different,” Rayfa explained. “He’s been accused of selling goods on the international black market.”

Nahyuta hummed. “That is… odd. As I recall, the man was a fairly successful salesman. I can’t remember exactly what he sold, but it was all above board. We certainly would have checked his background.”

“Well, whatever he was doing six years ago, he’s not doing that now. He was caught red-handed trying to sneak goods across the border. Minister Nayar said it’s open and shut.”

“Yes, I’m sure Minister Nayar is more than capable of handling the prosecution. I’m more worried about the aftershocks,” Nahyuta mused. “After all, I—“

He was cut short by a succinct rap on the conference room door. “Ah, speak of the devil,” Nahyuta said, standing and going to open the door. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Rayfa mouth “speak of the devil” with a confused expression— he’d incidentally borrowed a phrase from America again. He’d explain it to her later.

Nahyuta opened the door just a crack, bracing his foot against the bottom edge in case their visitor was not the Minister they were expecting. He soon removed it and opened the door fully, though, as his cautious gaze was met with the unmistakable visage of Minister Nayar.

Minister Saatvik Nayar was the current head of the Ministry of Justice, appointed by Rayfa just after her coronation. He’d been a shoe-in; a prosecutor by training, he’d practiced in Khura’in for nearly a decade before he’d had the good fortune of moving elsewhere just before Ga’ran came into power. As such, he had a great deal of knowledge surrounding Khura’in’s legal system, yet was distinct from those who prosecuted under Ga’ran’s reign. 

He had returned to Khura’in after hearing of the revolution, and Apollo and Nahyuta had gladly accepted his help. He was a fair, reasonable man, and his input had been invaluable in rebuilding the legal system. His unquestionable competence was part of the reason why Nahyuta felt alright leaving Khura’in; he trusted that the Minister, unlike his predecessors, would oversee the legal system with a careful and just gaze.

Minister Nayar was a short, rotund man with long, dark hair that he kept tied back in a neat ponytail. He dressed in a mix of traditional formal garb and more Western-style suits— a remnant from his years abroad. He had intelligent eyes, magnified by a pair of thick bifocals which had a permanent perch on the bridge of his nose.

“Prosecutor Sahdmadhi,” Nayar said, greeting him in Khura’inese and giving him a respectful nod.

“Minister Nayar,” Nahyuta responded, mirroring the greeting and gesture. “Thank you for coming.”

Nayar let out a small huff of laughter. “I think I ought to be saying that to you, Sahdmadhi. I’m impressed you managed to get here so quickly.”

Nahyuta gave him a small smile. “Well, I got lucky with flight timing,” he said. “And, naturally, I came as quickly as I could.”

“Of course,” Nayar replied. “Well, I suppose it’d be less of an issue if you weren’t so far out. But no matter— you’re here, and we have much to discuss.”

With, that Minister Nayar brushed past Nahyuta and into the conference room. Before following him, Nahyuta paused and took a slow deep breath.

Minister Nayar wasn’t wrong. He could have been here sooner. Nayar had made it very clear when Nahyuta had decided to leave Khura’in that he disapproved. He was of the opinion that the legal system still needed all the support it could get— Nahyuta had argued that support from Ga’ran’s former lap dog was likely more detrimental than not. Nayar hadn’t agreed, but Nahyuta wouldn’t be swayed. He was sure Khura’in was better off without him.

He’d been surprised, actually, that Nayar had wanted him to stay. The minister was not the sort of man who shirked away from expressing his opinions— he was highly critical of Nahyuta, and of his actions during Ga’ran’s reign. He was never cruel about it, though. He understood the pressure Nahyuta had been under, but he also expressed frustration with many of the precedents Nahyuta had set in the courtroom. He wasn’t afraid to question those decisions, to ask what Nahyuta’s thought process had been. That was part of what made Nahyuta trust him so much.

Nahyuta turned back to the conference table, expression carefully neutral. Minister Nayar had already greeted Rayfa formally, and was seated at the table, looking at Nahyuta expectantly. He quickly returned to his seat and cleared his throat.

“Minister Nayar. What can you tell me about the situation?” Nahyuta inquired.

Nayar nodded, one hand coming up to stroke his chin. “The case itself is quite simple. The defendant, Nirav Gulati, was caught with illegal goods by border agents. He hasn’t confessed to anything, but should the case go to trial, we have an abundance of evidence. It would be very hard for Gulati to avoid being charged.”

Nayar sighed, taking his bifocals off and cleaning them with one shirt tail. “That, of course, is the problem in and of itself. If Gulati is found guilty…”

“Then Ga’ran loyalists will have a perfect example to use against the legal system that pardoned him in the first place,” Nahyuta finished.

Nayar nodded. “Precisely. We cannot simply convict the man and let that spark fall onto the tinder. We must find a way to both bring Gulati to justice and ensure Ga’ran’s loyalists do not have a basis on which to incite the masses.”

“Is the new legal system not popular among the general public?” Nahyuta asked. Last he had checked, the polls showed people were generally favorable towards Rayfa’s reforms, but it was possible things had changed.

“No, it is,” Nayar said, “but people are still cautious. If Ga’ran’s loyalists can show that the new system is dangerous, I am not sure that popularity would hold.”

“What has Gulati said?” Rayfa asked, interjecting for the first time.

“Nothing, really,” the Minister replied. “He refuses to talk to any of the police or prosecutors.”

Nahyuta frowned. “Why do you ask, Your Benevolence?”

“It sounds to me like his story is important here,” Rayfa said. “If he is certainly guilty, then I should like to know why. Perhaps there is a reason for his actions that has nothing to do with his history as an exoneree. That could be something we can use to change the narrative surrounding his arrest.”

“That… is a good idea, actually,” Navar said. “He refuses to talk, though. How do we get through to him?”

“Let me speak with him,” Nahyuta said quietly. “I remember my conversations with him during the exoneration hearings. He was very angry, particularly with me. If he sees me again, he may be upset enough to let something slip.”

Rayfa looked startled by the suggestions. “But that’s…”

“Good thinking,” Minister Navar said. “Worst case scenario is he doesn’t talk to you and then we’re back where we started. He’s at the detention center. You should head there now, Prosecutor Sahdmadhi. The sooner we can resolve this, the better.”

Nahyuta nodded. “If there’s nothing else for us to discuss, I will go speak with him now.”

“Nothing further from me,” Navar said. “Your Benevolence?”

Rayfa shook her head. “No, you may go. I am overdue for a check in with my security team anyways,” she said.

With that, the trio stood from the table and parted, with Minister Navar being the first to exit. Nahyuta lingered for a moment longer, waiting until Navar was out in the hallway before pulling Rayfa in for one more hug. “Come find me if you need me,” he said. “And do try not to give your guards more heart attacks.”

Rayfa gave him a tight squeeze in response. “It is good to see you, Braid Head,” she said. “I wish it was not under such circumstances.”

“As do I,” Nahyuta said, pulling back and ruffling her hair. “I promise, I will come see you once this is resolved and we can catch up.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Rayfa said.

“See that you do,” Nahyuta replied, giving her a small smile. He picked his laptop up from the table and stowed it back in his bag. Then, he headed out of the conference room, pausing for a moment at the door to glance back at his younger sister. She was focused on her phone, likely connecting with her security team. For just a moment, she looked like any young woman of her age might. If Nahyuta squinted, he could imagine her simply texting a friend or playing a game rather than discussing her own safety arrangements. 

Nahyuta felt a twinge in his stomach. She’d grown up so fast; she’d had to. He wondered what her life might be like if she’d been born to someone more normal instead of their dysfunctional mess of a royal family. Would she be happier that way? Would she be better off?

Nahyuta shook his head, ridding his mind of the thought as the walked out into the hallway. There was no use dwelling on things that might have been. Rayfa’s past was what it was; he could no sooner change it than he could move mountains. All he could do now was work to ensure the safety of her future. 

Right now, that meant getting a stubborn defendant to confess his crimes, so that was what Nahyuta was going to do. He set off towards the detention center, a renewed purpose in his stride.

He would fix this. He had to.

Chapter Text

JULY 26 ^TH , 10:00 PM

DETENTION CENTER

Nirav Gulati was different from how Nahyuta remembered.

The man sitting at the familiar metal table in the detention center’s single interrogation room may as well have been a stranger. Nahyuta almost asked the guard if he was sure that they’d brought in the right man— until they’d made eye contact through the glass separating them and Gulati’s eyes had blazed.

In his mind’s eye, Nahyuta recalled a very different man, solid and well-built with a broad stature. The one he was now looking over was completely different. He was still tall, but his frame was gaunt, his cheeks sunken in. He was hunched over, curled in on himself in a defensive manner. This was a far cry from the proud, angry man that Nahyuta had spoken with years ago.

Nahyuta entered the room and carefully took the seat across from Gulati. He meant to open with a greeting, but what came out of his tired, confused mouth instead was, “Mr. Gulati, what happened to you?”

“Oh, hello to you too, Prosecutor Sahdmadhi. How nice to see you again,” Gulati said, voice dripping with sarcasm “Truly, I am blessed by your presence.”

Nahyuta gaped at him, saying nothing. 

“You want to know what happened to me?” the man continued. “What do you think happened, Sahdmadhi?”

“I— last we spoke, I—“

“Yeah, yeah you gave me my compensation money for that bullshit conviction. Which lasted all of three months, by the way.”

Nahyuta’s brow furrowed. “It was only meant to hold you over until—“

“Until I could get a job?” Gulati interrupted. “What a laugh. Tell me, who were you expecting to employ an ex-convict?”

“Your record was expunged, it shouldn’t have—“

Gulati threw his hands up in the air. “Well, I got blacklisted anyway! I’m not sure how it happened. But it’s because of my conviction. You know how I know that?”

Nahyuta shook his head slowly.

“Because I’m not the only one,” Gulati said, eyes glinting. “Do you know how many of us exonerees there are, barely scraping by? Just because that bitch is gone doesn’t mean her influence is over. None of us can get or keep a job, because the the upper-class assholes in management always have a Ga’ran sympathizer or two in their midst. And they think we’re too risky to employ. What are you going to do to fix that, huh?”

Nahyuta was silent, mouth agape. Words failed him. 

“That’s what I thought. Look, I don’t want to be a criminal. I don’t want to sell illegal crap. If I could just get a damn job, I’d be more than happy to work for fair pay. But I’ve tried to get on that path for years and it never works. The black market ended up being my most reliable source of income. What else was I supposed to do, stand by and let my family starve? I made one comment, one time, in the earshot of the wrong person and now my entire life is in shambles. What about that is fair?”

“It’s not,” Nahyuta said, in barely a whisper.

“No, it isn’t,” Gulati scoffed. “At least you recognize that.”

Vaguely, it registered with Nahyuta that Gulati had just admitted to his crime. That, however, had become the least of Nahyuta’s concerns.

“I… I’m sorry, Mr. Gulati,” Nahyuta said. “I had no idea,”

“Yeah, well. I get that you and your sister have a lot of shit to fix. But you can’t just throw money at the people whose lives you fucked up and expect that to fix everything.”

“I see,” Nahyuta said.

“If you really wanna fix what your aunt did, you’re gonna have to do better than that,” Gulati said. “I remember all your speeches, back when you were regent, about changing things. Righting wrongs and all that. I wanted to believe you meant that. But you’re doing a pretty shit job.”

“I will… I will speak with the Minister,” Nahyuta said.

Gulati scoffed again. “You do that, Sahdmadhi. Let me know when you’ve decided on my latest sentence. At least in prison, the meals are free.”

Nahyuta just managed to stop himself from flinching. He gave Gulati a curt nod, then stood to take his leave. He’d maintained his mask of neutrality for the duration of their conversation, but even as he paused to let the guards know he was finished, he could feel it cracking. He had to find somewhere private before it was too late.

Outside the detention center, Nahyuta started to head towards the palace, intending to go to his chambers, before remembering the protestors outside the gate. He couldn’t risk trying to sneak past them. So, the palace was a no. Nahyuta paused for a moment before turning and heading in the other direction. There was one other place he could go— one he knew would be empty right now.

Ten minutes later, he found himself standing in front of the Justice & Co. Defense Agency. The windows were dark, which was a good sign— Apollo had taken on many an apprentice during his time here, but most had long since flown the nest, starting their own firms. Apollo rarely returned to Khura’in these days, but he couldn’t bear to let the office go. Not when it was one of the last pieces of Dhurke they had left.

Nahyuta reached up, unclenching his hand so he could run it along the underside of the agency’s sign. He ignored the sharp sting that accompanied the motion— he’d been digging his fingernails into his palm without realizing, and he’d broken skin. But that wasn’t important right now. He had things to do.

After a moment of searching, his fingers touched cool, ridged metal— a key. The office spare, hidden in the same place it’d been hidden for years. Nahyuta quickly unlocked the door, stepping inside and flicking on the lights.

His entrance stirred up a cloud of dust, sent flying from the bare surfaces of desk and bookshelves. Nahyuta coughed, turning towards the front window and pushing it open. It took some effort, and unsettled even more dust in the process, but he managed eventually. Fresh air poured into the room, and Nahyuta collapsed on the floor, head resting on the edge of the windowsill.

Fuck, he thought. 

He hadn’t known what to expect of Gulati’s interview, but it certainly wasn’t that. 

Fuck! He thought again, with great feeling. It’s been six years and she’s still ruining lives. I still haven’t fixed anything.

“Damn it!” he yelled, bringing up his palms and pressing them into his eyes, as if the pressure could change his perception of reality. “Fuck!”

He wasn’t being particularly eloquent in expressing his emotions, but those were truly the only words he could use to describe his current situation. How did one process the fact that years of hard work had ultimately been for naught? How was he supposed to handle the knowledge that that people he hurt were still hurting, were doing so badly that they would rather be in jail than living freely? That they were desperate enough to turn to breaking the law?

Nahyuta swallowed back a sob. Here he’d been, jetting off to America and worrying about Rayfa’s safety, while the people he thought he’d helped back to their feet were drowning. What good had he done, really? Was he anything other than false promises? Had he been willfully ignorant to the reality of his actions? Was he any different from really any better than Ga’ran?

The thought sliced through Nahyuta’s body like a hot knife through butter. He curled in on himself, facade finally breaking as tears began streaming down his face. He was vaguely aware of the sound of his own hyperventilating. He needed to calm down, needed to breathe, but right now that felt like the hardest thing in the world. 

The sudden vibration of his phone, stored away in the inner pocket of his coat, made him jump. He wanted to ignore it, badly— he was in no state to talk to anyone. But… even in his current state, he recognized that it could be an emergency. He had to at least check.

It took his shaking fingers a few tris to get it out, but he managed eventually. He glanced down at the screen, looking to see who it was that wanted to get a hold of him.

Simon, his screen read.

Fuck.

He could not deal with this right now. He went to return the phone to his pocket, but his hand slipped, and he ended dropping it on the floor. He let out a frustrated sob.

“Shit,” he said, sitting up a bit to see where the stupid thing had landed. “Fucking—”

“Sad Monk?”

Nahyuta froze. His eyes trailed down to the source of the voice— his phone, lying face up on the floor a foot away, currently connected to a call. 

Currently connected to Simon.

Oh for the Holy Mother’s sake, could this night get any worse?

Nahyuta scrambled across the floor to his phone, intending to end the call. Before he could reach it, Simon’s voice floated through the air once again.

“Nahyuta? Are you okay? I called to make sure you made it to Khura’in in one piece, but I thought I heard…” A pause. “… crying.”

Nahyuta tried and failed to stifle another sob. He frantically grabbed at the phone, trying to hang up.

“That was definitely crying. Bloody hell. Nahyuta, if you hang up on me now, I swear I will get on the next plane to Khura’in and come check on you myself. You better not be dying.”

Nahyuta paused, having finally managed to get the phone in his hand, his finger hovering above the red “End Call” button. Was Simon really that worried about him?

“Simon,” he said, instantly hating the way his voice wobbled. He sniffled, trying to regulate his breath. “I’m. I’m not dying.”

“Tch. Good.” Simon replied. There was a pause, then, “Tell me what’s wrong?”

Nahyuta laughed wetly. “You must think me pathetic. Half the time you’re around me, I’m a mess.”

“Sad Monk, we’ve been over this.”

“And yet, that doesn’t make this any less mortifying.”

“Nahyuta. I’m not going to judge you, whatever it is. Tell me what happened.”

Nahyuta sighed. He was reluctant to tell anyone about the conversation he’d just had. And yet… it had helped last time he was dealing with this, speaking with Simon. He recalled his earlier conversation with Rayfa, how he’d wanted her to know if was alright to not be alright. Running away now would make him a bit of a hypocrite, wouldn’t it?

“Alright,” Nahyuta said. “Fine. Just… please don’t say anything while I tell you. Let me finish first.”

“Of course. I’m listening.”

Nahyuta took a deep breath, using one of his sleeves to wipe away the viscous snot and tears covering his face. At least Simon couldn’t actually see him, in all his disgusting, moping glory. That made this a little easier.

“I, uh. Spoke with the defendant this morning. The one who was exonerated. He’s… not doing well.” Nahyuta said. “He said—“ 

Nahyuta’s throat closed up, preventing him from continuing. More frustrated tears rose to his eyes and he cleared his throat, somewhat angrily.

“He said that none of the exonerees can find jobs. That no one will hire them, even with expunged records. They’re out of work, and they’re starving. And it’s my fault.” Nahyuta choked out. “He… he said he’d be better off in jail because at least there’d be food there.”

He took a shaky breath. “Simon, I haven’t fixed anything. Ga’ran’s long dead and the people we hurt together are doing worse than ever. I… thought we’d made things better, with the compensation plans and everything. But we didn’t, not in the long term. Their lives are still ruined.”

Nahyuta stopped, swallowing hard. “So, yeah. That happened, and now I’m hiding in my father’s old office and having yet another breakdown because I’ve fucked up and I don’t know what to do.”

Silence stretched between them as Nahyuta finished his tale, punctuated only by the occasional embarrassing sniffle. For a moment, Nahyuta thought Simon had hung up on him. Then:

“Sad Monk, you have got to get your head out of your ass.”

Nahyuta froze. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. This isn’t about you, Sahdmadhi. It’s about the people you and Ga’ran harmed. I get that you feel guilty, but dwelling on that isn’t helping anyone. It’s that self-loathing we talked about, and you’re letting it control you. Sure, you fucked up. You tried to fix it, and it didn’t work. Boo-hoo. Since when do you give up so easily? You’re one of the most stubborn people I know, Sad Monk. Get over yourself and try again.”

“But—“

“No but’s, Sahdmadhi. You’re royalty, for Christ’s sake. I know there’s more you can do.”

“Is there?” Nahyuta asked, voice breaking.

“Of course there is. You don’t have to do everything on your own, Sad Monk. You don’t have the answers right now because you aren’t the one struggling. Talk to the exonerees. They’ll know best what they need. Go find them, ask them, and then make it happen. Put aside your feelings and focus on the things you can still change.”

“Oh,” Nahyuta said. “That makes it sound so simple.”

Simon laughed. “It’s not. But you’ll figure it out, Sad Monk. I know you can.”

“Right,” Nahyuta said, skeptically.

“Hmph. I… I don’t suppose … no, actually, never mind.”

“Hm?” Nahyuta snapped back to attention. “No, what were you going to say?”

“I… just thought it might be easier for the exonerees to talk to someone who had an idea where they were coming from. Someone who isn’t the same person that put them away in the first place.”

“Oh,” Nahyuta frowned. “That’s a good idea. Why did you not want to share it? To be honest, I am not sure who—”

“Sad Monk, have you forgotten who you’re talking to?

It took Nahyuta’s mind a few seconds to catch up with what Simon was trying to say.

“You mean you? But you’re halfway across the world! I couldn’t possibly ask that of you.”

“You aren’t asking. I offered.” Simon replied.

There was a pregnant pause. Nahyuta found himself once again at a loss for words.

“Ah, it was a silly idea. Just pretend I never—“

“Okay.” 

Nahyuta interrupted before Simon could finish taking back his offer.

“…Okay?”

“Yes. I… you’re right. You have a unique perspective as both a prosecutor and someone who is wrongly imprisoned. I would benefit greatly from your assistance.” Nahyuta said quietly. “I can call Prosecutor Edgeworth to make a formal request.”

“Let me speak with him first. I don’t want this to be a surprise,” Simon said.

“Of course,” Nahyuta said. 

More silence. 

“Right, then. I’ll go do that and uh, let you know. Goodbye, Sad Monk.” Simon said.

“Simon, wait!” Nahyuta found himself blurting.

“…Yes?”

“Er, I. Just. Thank you, Simon. Truly,” Nahyuta said, grateful the other man couldn’t see the redness rising in his cheeks.

“It’s nothing,” Simon replied. “I’d be happy to.”

“Even still. I appreciate it. And… thanks for saying what I needed to hear. Again.”

Simon laughed at that. “Always happy to call your bullshit, Sad Monk.”

“Bye, then, Panda.”

“Goodbye, Nahyuta.”

There was a soft click as Simon ended the call. Nahyuta sat still for a moment, phone in hand, just staring out into space. His heart hurt, suffering whiplash from the vast array of emotions he’d experienced within the space of an hour. He wanted to go lock himself in his bedroom and not come out for at least a day so he could just sit and process it all.

Unfortunately, such a thing was impossible. Nahyuta’s gaze eventually focused on the clock widget at the top of his phone screen, causing him to startle as he noticed how late it had become. Rayfa was probably wondering where he was, and he owed both her and Minister Nayar a report on his interview with Gulati. Technically, it’d been a success— the man had admitted to selling on the black market— but Nahyuta was far more concerned about the other things Gulati had told him.

He stood, tucking his phone away and brushing the dust and dirt off his clothes as best he could. He crossed the room and stepped into the bathroom, peering at his reflection in the dingy bathroom mirror. He didn’t have any makeup on hand, so the best he could do was splash his face with some water and redo his disheveled braid. It wasn’t perfect, but it was good as he was going to get.

Nahyuta pulled out his phone again, pulling up Rayfa’s contact information and giving her a call. He’d arrange for them to meet— they had much to discuss. He only hoped she wouldn’t take the bad news as hard as he did.

JULY 26 ^TH , 5:05 PM 

LA COUNTY PROSECUTOR’S OFFICE

“Chief Prosecutor.”

“One moment,” came Edgeworth’s familiar baritone. Simon, standing outside the man’s office door, waited for him to wrap up whatever he was doing. Taka, on his shoulder, squawked irritably. Normally, he’d have let her out to fly home by now, but he’d been in such a rush to catch the chief prosecutor before he left, he’d forgotten.

Prosecutor Edgeworth’s door swung open, revealing the man himself, dressed in his usual maroon. “Prosecutor Blackquill,” he said, some surprise coloring his voice. “I… wasn’t expecting you. Is there something you need?”

Blackquill nodded. “Yes, Chief Prosecutor. I wanted to ask if the prosecutor’s office might be alright without me for a week or two.”

Edgeworth’s brow furrowed. “Are you requesting vacation? Because that should really go through payroll first—“

“No, sir. I’ve been asked to consult on a case. Outside of the States.”

“Oh,” Edgeworth said. “I haven’t received any international requests.”

“That would be because I asked Prosecutor Sahdmadhi to hold on the official request until I had a chance to speak with you.” Simon explained.

“Prosecutor Sahdmadhi? You mean he’s requesting you come consult in Khura’in?”

“Yes, sir.”

Edgeworth looked at him for a moment, confused.

“Wh… not to imply your prosecutorial skills are anything less than exceptional, Blackquill, but why on earth would Prosecutor Sahdmadhi request you?”

Taka squawked indignantly, as if offended on Simon’s behalf. Simon elected to ignore her, though Edgeworth took a small step back.

“He’s working on reforms for the wrongfully imprisoned,” Simon said. “I’m sure you can see why I might be a useful asset, in such a case.”

“Ah,” Edgeworth said, looking a tad sheepish. “Of course. Well. I won’t say the office will have an easy time being down two prosecutors, but we’ll manage, given the importance of the work. I’ll approve the request once Prosecutor Sahdmadhi sends it.”

“Thank you, Chief Prosecutor,” Simon said, giving him a respectful nod before taking his leave. Taka let out one final screech in Edgeworth’s direction as he walked out the door.

That was one notification handled— now, Simon just had to get through the second.

JULY 26 ^TH , 7:25 PM 

BLACKQUILL & SAHDMADHI RESIDENCE

“What do you mean you’re going to Khura’in?” Athena practically shrieked through the phone.

Simon sighed, having known she would react precisely like this. “Sad Monk is having some trouble with prison reforms. I offered to help. He accepted,” he explained.

“But… I didn’t even know he’d left L.A.! You haven’t talked to him about—“

“No, Athena, I haven’t had the chance. He was on his way to the airport last I saw him. But that’s not important right now.”

“Simon, are you sure you’re going to be okay in Khura’in? You can’t bring Taka on a plane, can you? What about your cases here?”

“I’ll figure it out, Athena. Have some faith in me.”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you, Simon,” Athena said with a sigh. “I’m just worried you’re not thinking of your own wellbeing because you’re worried about Nahyuta’s.”

“Hmph. I’ll be fine, Athena. I can handle myself.”

“I know that, Simon! I’m not trying to stop you, I’m just… I don’t know.” He heard Athena let out another frustrated sigh on the other end of the call. “It’s a lot.”

“Tell me about it,” Simon said. “Look, I have to call the Sad Monk and let him know. I’ll keep you in the loop, promise.”

“You’d better.”

“Bye, Athena.” 

Simon removed the phone from his ear, ending the call. He thought for a moment before shooting off a quick text to let Nahyuta know he could go ahead with the formal request. He’d planned to call, but… Sahdmadhi was probably busy. No point in bothering him unnecessarily.

Simon placed his phone down on the dresser, glancing over at the old suitcase lying open on the bed that he’d dug out of a closet earlier. He wasn’t exactly well-travelled; prison time aside, he’d never been all that big on putting himself in strange new environments, so the old thing hadn’t been used in a while. Honestly, it was probably something Athena left behind; Simon had no memory of acquiring it.

Crossing the room, he flipped the suitcase open with a sigh. He wasn’t exactly easing himself into the whole travel thing, what with his first destination being halfway across the world. Simon felt a flicker of anxiety rise in his chest, but he quickly pushed it down. Nahyuta needed his help; he wasn’t going to let him down. He could handle one little trip. 

Everything would be fine.

JULY 27 ^TH , 6:30 PM 

LOS ANGELES AIRPORT, INTERNATIONAL TERMINAL

Everything was not fine.

It wasn’t that Simon regretted his decision. Sure, it had been a bit rash, and he hadn’t really thought things through before offering to come. But it had been the right thing to do, and he was confident in his choice.

That being said, he would very much like to get off this plane.

Simon hadn’t flown in more than a decade. He knew things had changed— knew he would have to go through security, through customs, and be subject to all sorts of nonsensical rules. And he’d been doing fine. Right up until the actual boarding the plane part.

Simon dearly, dearly wished that he had Taka. As a licensed emotional support animal, she technically could be cleared to fly— but Simon worried about stressing her out, and was reluctant to take her away from the area she already knew and called home. So, he left her behind, with strict instruction to Athena on making sure she was taken care of. He needn’t worry about her.

However, given this decision, he was now facing a 12-hour flight on his own. He was very, very aware of the not-very-large, metal tin can he was currently situated in. Already, before the doors had even closed, he was antsy. He closed his eyes, recalling grounding techniques that helped calm him down, and took a few deep, measured breaths. He pulled out his headphones and switched on the noise cancellation, blocking out the sounds of other passengers. 

He was fine. He could handle this.

Simon was, at least, very grateful for the first-class seat the Nahyuta had insisted on purchasing for him. He already felt crowded-in even with the extra room the premium seats provided— he probably would have lost it if he was in economy,  especially given his broad frame. 

Regardless of seating arrangements, though, Simon was focused on the fact that he could not leave this plane once it took off. Obviously, that was for his own safety, and there really shouldn’t be any reason why he would want to leave. But he hated any kind of scenario where there was no exit route. Whenever he was in public, Simon would always search for the exit signs. It brought him comfort to know that in the event anything went wrong, he would know how to get out. He wouldn’t be trapped.

But here, on this plane, Simon was trapped. He did his best not to think about it, even as he glimpsed the crew sliding the doors shut and preparing for takeoff. He reminded himself that he was on this plane for a good reason, that he wasn’t just doing this for shits and giggles. He was helping a friend.

A friend. Right. An image of Nahyuta, smiling softly, flitted through Simon’s mind. He’d been trying to keep the monk out of his thoughts while he was gone, to not dwell on his feelings while he could do nothing about them. Until the phone call, he’d been doing a decent job of it.

He’d almost convinced himself not to reach out— he hadn’t heard from him since he left, but it’s not as if Nahyuta owed him regular check-ins. His anxiety got the best of him, though, and he made the call, stupidly worried that something had happened. He was relieved for a second when Nahyuta had answered, only to become concerned again when he heard the sound of muffled crying and cursing.

It had hurt, hearing Nahyuta cry like that. A small part of Simon had wanted to offer comfort, to tell him meaningless affirmations and that everything was going to be okay. That he was a good person, really, even if he couldn’t see it. 

But the rest of Simon knew that what the man needed was a wake-up call. He’d seen it before— how Nahyuta got trapped inside his own head until his viewpoint was hopelessly warped. He hoped what he’d said had been the right thing to snap him out of it. Nahyuta had sounded better once he’d said his piece, but it had been hard to tell over the phone.

And then there was the offer. The words had been out of Simon’s mouth before he even fully understood the implications of what he was saying. It had been simple— Nahyuta needed help, and he had the perfect skill set to help him. It made sense, in the moment.

Now, though, Simon was starting to wonder if he would be out of his depth. There were so many things he hadn’t considered— the language barrier, cultural differences, the fact that he knew very little of Khura’in’s legal history. What if his presence only made things worse? That was the last thing Nahyuta needed.

Sighing, Simon leaned forward, pulling his bag out from under the seat in front of him and opening it, grabbing the book he’d pilfered from Nahyuta’s room from the top pocket. Nahyuta had given him permission over text to borrow it— apparently, it was a legal history textbook on Khura’in. Just what Simon needed.

Sitting back Simon glanced out the window, noting with some surprise that they were… already in the air? When had that happened? He’d been so lost in thought that for a while, he’d forgotten where he was. The reminder of his surrounding made his breath catch, but he was quick to even it out. He’d made it this far— he could stay calm for the duration of the flight. He just needed to keep himself distracted.

Simon turned back to the book in his lap. He flipped it open, momentarily confused by the blocks of Khura’inese text that greeted him. He realized a moment later that each passage was translated into English on the facing page— the left page original, the right an English translation. That explained why the book was so large— everything was written twice.

Simon settled into his chair, beginning to read. He has twelve hours to kill; might as well learn something while he’s stuck here.

Simon read for a few hours, his focus miraculously surviving long enough for him to at least skim the major sections of the book. He was the sole passenger with his light still on; this was a red-eye flight, and everyone else had long since turned in. Beyond the thrum of the plane’s engine, Simon could just hear their soft snores, if he took his headphones off. Simon’s seat mate, an older gentleman, he been giving him side-eye for a good while, which Simon easily ignored. It would take more than a pissy old man to get him to turn off the light.

It wasn’t that Simon was afraid of the dark, exactly. He simply dislike being unable to see where he was. If he was in his own apartment, then turning off the lights was generally fine— he knew the space well enough to orient himself easily, even without the assistance of light. 

Darkness in an unfamiliar space, however, was a different story. Simon wasn’t afraid of bogey men or shadow monsters. The suffocating darkness simply reminded him of things that use to scare him— the steel-walled backseat of a prison transport van, or the paradoxical void of a tiny, windowless cell in solitary.

Simon also disliked sleeping in unfamiliar places, which is another reason why his light would be staying firmly in the on position for the duration of their flight. He’d been sedated by prison medics or shocked into unconsciousness a few times too many for him to be able to wake up in a strange place and not immediately be overcome with panic. Waking up somewhere different had never been a good sign, and Simon was not inclined to have a panic attack in front of all the other passengers on this airplane. 

So, all in all, it was best if he stayed awake. He could easily run off very little sleep, after all. Years of insomnia will do that to a person. He’d cope with the lost sleep.

As the hours dragged on, though, and Simon exhausted his various reading materials, he began to get fidgety. He wanted to stand, to stretch and walk around, but the ceiling of the coach was certainly not high enough, and he doubted getting up from his seat would really bring any satisfaction. He shifted slightly, drumming his fingers silently along the side of his thigh. 

Simon took a few deep breaths, trying to center himself. He had to sit here a while longer, but it would be over soon. It would be over, and he would be back on blessed, solid ground and free to go wherever he felt so inclined. This was an uncomfortable experience, but it was finite.

In the meantime, he needed a distraction. Something to take his mind off the reality of his current situation. He closed his eyes, letting his mind wander. It was a familiar exercise, one he’d often done to pass the time while in prison. He simply sat and thought, with no expectations or rules for where his thoughts might take him.

He thought first of Taka, as he often did. His faithful companion, through thick and thin. He thought about how she was getting up there in years and how he had been meaning to visit the local nature conservatory to discuss senior care. She was fierce and he had no doubt she’d fight old age up until the bitter end. Even so, he wanted to make her life as comfortable as she would let him. 

He thought about Athena, how different she was now than she used to be. How she’d lost all sense of shyness and found a way to make her hearing an advantage rather than a hinderance. He thought about how proud of her he was, of how happy she seemed these days. If there was anyone who deserved that, it was her. He was grateful to have the privilege of witnessing it.

He thought about Aura, how she’d returned to GYAXA and her robots after her release a year or two ago. He thought about the way she’d smiled last time he visited while talking about Lana Skye, who she’d apparently grown close to. They didn’t see each other often, which suited both siblings just fine. They weren’t the sort who felt a need to spend a lot of time together. He knew what was happening in her life, and she knew what was happening in his. That was enough. 

He thought about Nahyuta, pushing past the knot of anxiety that even the thought of the man was enough to conjure. He thought of all the ways he’d been wrong about him. How he’d seen the soft, vulnerable parts of him and came out the other side thinking him a better person. How he, too, had been willing to do anything to save the person he loved. Even if it meant losing his own morality in the process.

He thought about redemption, about repentance, about guilt and survival and the intersection of the two. He thought about good and evil and all the ways to characterize a man. He thought about scars, physical or otherwise, and wondered how many of Nahyuta’s he had yet to see. He remembered how many he himself was hiding. 

He thought about green eyes and bated breaths, of tension thick enough to cut with a knife. He thought about messy kisses and bad ideas, how it had felt to hold another person so intimately. How long had it been since he’d touched someone like that, since he’d allowed himself to be touched? When had physical contact become something to yearn for rather than something to fear?

Simon became so caught up in his thoughts that he failed to notice the flight attendants preparing for descent, or the captain’s announcement of their imminent arrival. In fact, he didn’t realize that they’d made it to Khura’in until he felt the jarring impact of the plane touching down.

Then, there was some fidgeting as the plane taxied into the terminal and the exit steps were wheeled out. But then the airplane’s door unlatched, and air that hadn’t been recycling through the plane for hours rushed in. Simon was finally able to stand up and walk out and stretch his arms all the way up above his head. It was glorious. 

He’d done it. He’d made it all the way here, intact and mentally sound. It was nothing short of a miracle.

Chapter Text

JULY 28 ^TH , 7:25 PM

KHURA’IN INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT, TERMINAL ONE

Standing out on the tarmac, Simon took a deep breath, enjoying the fresh air despite the high humidity and lingering heat left by the still-setting sun. The feel and the smell of it reminded him how far from home he truly was— everything felt new and unfamiliar. Simon felt the tiniest kernel of excitement grow within him, pushing past the anxiety and paranoia as he took in the Khura’inese landscape.

The first thing he noticed was that it was very green. The airport was carved out of what was probably once thick forest, with greenery overflowing right up to the tarmac’s fence. The breeze carried with it a thick, earthy scent, and felt cool against Simon’s skin. After the rather uncomfortable half-day he’d just spent cooped up in the plane, the change in environment was very much welcomed.

He turned back to the plane, where the rest of his fellow passengers were congregated, waiting for luggage to be unloaded from the cargo hold. Simon had wandered a ways away in his revelry; he imagined he’d looked rather foolish,  a dark, imposing figure such as his stumbling around and grinning at the open sky. Yet none of the other passengers seemed to pay him any mind, even as he rejoined them to collect his own baggage. Simon rather liked that.

After collecting his single suitcase, Simon followed the signs on the tarmac leading into the airport, and the international customs area. He gruffly greeted the agent that called him over, passing his paperwork through the appropriate slot located at the bottom of the divider between them. The agent asked him the standard questions— how long would he be here, what was his reason for visiting, etcetera. Simon answered shortly but professionally; it felt a bit odd to be on the receiving end of such questions, and he had to remind himself that this wasn’t court and he wasn’t being cross-examined. He was perhaps a bit snappish when the agent questioned if he was truly a prosecutor, but other than that, the interview went smoothly.

Once he’d wrapped up with customs, Simon trudged through the small airport, looking for the main exit. Nahyuta had told him he’d arrange a taxi to pick Simon up and take him to the Ministry of Justice. As he exited the building, he scanned the small gaggle of drivers waiting there, each with a sign indicating their designated passenger. None of them were his.

No matter— they’d probably show up sooner or later. Simon was about to look for a nearby bench to sit down on while he waited when he was interrupted by a loud voice far too close to his ear.

“Hey-o! Prosecutor Blackquill!”

Simon startled and spun around, nearly knocking his suitcase over in his haste. Though it stayed upright, the luggage was dislodge and began rolling away. 

Next to him, a man dressed in an olive green uniform caught the runaway suitcase by its still-upright handle and gave it a spin. He pushed it back in Simon’s direction, grinning broadly.

“Didn’t mean to scare ya! The name’s Datz Are’bal, pleased to make your acquaintance,” the man said, offering a hand.

Tentatively, Simon reached out, grabbing his suitcase and bringing it back to his side before accepting the handshake.

“Simon Blackquill. Though it seems you knew that already,” he said, narrowing his eyes.

“Ah, well,” the man said, “Yuty told me to look for a tall, pale guy with wild hair wearing all black and scowling. You seemed like a likely candidate!”

It took Simon a moment to realize that by “Yuty”, this man meant Nahyuta. 

“Prosecutor Sahdmadhi sent you?”

“Sure did! Well, actually, they asked me to book you a taxi, but I said, “Yuty! You ought to pick up your friend yourself, you know! He’s come a long way!” But they were all—” the man paused, schooling his features into an exaggerated frown, “—Datz, I have responsibilities,” or whatever, which I suppose is fair. Yuty does have a lot on their plate these days. But they’ve never had a friend visit before, so I thought they oughta make time for you!”

The man looked at Simon, as if waiting for him to agree with him. When he didn’t, Datz steamrolled on, undeterred.

“Yuty’s stubborn as a bull, though, always had been! Can’t ever get that one to change their mind. So I told Yuty I’d be more than happy to act as the welcome committee instead. They didn’t seem particularly thrilled by the proposal, but that’s Yuty for ya. Always so serious! I mean, would it kill them to lighten up every once and a while?” The man said, slapping his own thigh as he laughed so hard that tears began to spill from his eyes.

Simon blinked down at him, struggling to process both the man’s rapidly-spoken response and his emotional outburst. A moment later, the man stopped crying and gave him another disturbingly wide grin. “Anyways, that’s the story! So here I am. Is that all the luggage you brought?” Datz asked.

“Uh, yes.”

“Great! Car’s just round the corner there. Throw it in the back and we’ll get you on your way to the Ministry!” Simon wordlessly followed the strange man, who led them to a parked Jeep that looked badly in need of a wash. Simon managed to fit his suitcase in the cluttered trunk and climbed into the passenger seat.

“All set?” Datz asked.

Simon nodded.

“Not the most talkative sort, are ya? No need to be shy!”

“Tch. I’m simply tired from the flight,” Simon said. And I find you incredibly irritating, he added mentally. “Ah, and here I was thinking that’s why Yuty likes ya! They’re always telling me to take my big mouth somewhere else,” Datz said, once again bursting into raucous laughter. “Always got something to say, ol’ me.”

“Do you… work with Prosecutor Sahdmadhi?” Simon asked, curious as to how this man seemed to know Nahyuta so well.

“Oh, Holy Mother, no! I’m not cut out for all that legal mumbo jumbo,” Datz said. “No, I was an old friend of their father, and by extension, their mother, Amara. She keeps me around on her security team, for old times’ sake. I’m more of an “odd jobs” kinda guy, though.”

“Odd jobs?”

“Yeah, like pickin’ up visitors from the airport! Other stuff too, like fixing leaky faucets, defusing bombs, mowing the royal lawn. You know, that sort of thing.”

Simon briefly considered pressing the man on that second statement, but decided against it. He probably didn’t want to know.

“Anyways, that’s how I know Yuty. Known ‘em since they were barely knee-high! ‘Course we lost touch when they first became a prosecutor, but now things are alright again. Used to even call me “Uncle”, though you’d be hard-pressed to get ‘em to admit it!”

“I see,” Simon said. Datz continued to blather in the background— something about how sure he was that “Yuty” still cared, deep down— but Simon found himself tuning him out. He wasn’t trying to be rude, but frankly, he was too exhausted from his flight to keep up with the man’s antics.

Simon cast his gaze out the window, taking in the scenery. It really was beautiful here— of course it is, this place produced Nahyuta, said the soft, sappy side of his brain, which he ignored. Instead, he focused on the far-off ridges of mountains and swathes of green that swept through the landscape around them. The road they were currently driving on was mid-way up a mountain, with the jagged rock face on one side and a drop-off a few yards away on the other. 

Simon was sitting on the drop-off side, which meant he could see out over the country for miles, even in the low light of dusk. In contrast with the suffocating confinement of the plane, he now felt far less restricted, even as he was still contained within a vehicle. There was something about the knowledge that he could, at any point, stop and get out of the car and simply disappear into the greenery that pleased him. He wouldn’t, of course. It did make him realize, though, how restricting the streets of LA felt, with their skyscrapers and crowded streets. Everything here simply felt… open.

He was pulled from his musings as the car took a sharp turn and his mountainside view disappeared behind solid rock. Datz had steered them a tunnel carved through the mountain, which Simon had failed to notice earlier. It wasn’t a particularly long tunnel— Simon could see light peeking through the end, thankfully, and they passed through it in under a minute. To Simon’s surprise, when they pulled out the other side, they were now driving on city streets.

The tunnel opened out onto a cobbled stone street, lined with stout, colorful buildings decorated with rows of what appeared to be small flags. Datz turned again, pulling the car into a sectioned off area that appeared to function as a parking lot.

“We’ll be on foot from here! Hope that’s alright— the Ministry of Justice isn’t far, I promise! Not like you really have a choice— Khura’in’s streets weren’t exactly built with cars in mind, given they hadn’t yet been invented at the time.” Datz said, grinning.

“I don’t mind walking,” Simon said, already stepping out of the car. He meant it— Simon was the sort of person to appreciate the journey (when it wasn’t in an airplane, that is), and he liked the idea of being able to go through the city at a slower pace. He walked around to the back of the car, popping open the trunk and retrieving his suitcase. He could do without having to drag the damn thing around, but there wasn’t much he could do about that now.

Pulling the suitcase behind him, he walked around the car to find Datz leaning against its side, peeling an apple with a knife he’d produced from somewhere. When he saw that Simon was ready to go, he popped the apple — core and all— into his mouth, discarding the peel over one shoulder and tucking the knife back into his belt. He chewed vigorously for a moment, then gave Simon a grin. He scowled back.

“Shall we?” Datz said.

“If you wouldn’t mind,” Simon replied, deadpan.

Datz laughed. “Ah jeez, you can’t wait to be rid of me, can you?” he said. “So serious!”

“I do have work to get to,” Simon said.

“Right, right, work.” Datz said, eyes glinting playfully. “I’m sure you’re not just eager to see Yuty again.”

Simon’s scowl deepened. Before he could say anything in response, Datz spun on his heel and bounded off down the street. Simon had no choice but to follow, grumbling discontentedly under his breath. He was just tired and wanted to rest, that was all. The Sad Monk had nothing to do with it.

Simon’s irritation at his strange guide ebbed as they began to walk along the cobbled street. The sun had fully set at this point, though the streets remained well-lit through a combination of street lamps and lanterns hung by the various stands lining the street, as well as some stray light leaking from the windows of nearby buildings. The temperature had dropped slightly, which Simon was grateful for as Datz set a rather fast pace.

The loud rattling of Simon’s suitcase against the uneven stone of the street was enough to catch the eyes of the few people that remained in the streets. Simon noticed a number of them doing double takes, first glancing up at the noise, then looking again at him, eyes wide. This was not unusual— Simon generally got that sort of reaction even back in the states, given his imposing figure and omnipresent scowl. He supposed, here in Khura’in, he stuck out even more, with his pale skin and dark clothes. The stares weren’t malicious though; they mostly seemed curious, if a bit uneasy. 

Thankfully, they were moving at a pace that was too fast for Simon to spend much time observing the locals observing him. They walked past various neighborhoods, including cozy residential streets and what appeared to be a marketplace, complete with a large bird perched near its center (a waar’bad, according to Datz; the name sounded familiar, though Simon wasn’t sure why). As they went, Simon noticed there were fewer homes and more large buildings— offices or shops, perhaps. 

After about half an hour of walking, Datz took Simon down a dim alley, which gave Simon pause. Datz, noticing that the sound of his rolling suitcase had stopped, turned and looked back at him. 

“What, scared of a little dark alley?” he teased.

Simon scoffed. “This hardly seems the way to a Ministry of Justice, is all.” He said.

“Oh, it is! It’s just the back way,” Datz explained. “You’re welcome to try getting through the protestors at the front gate, if you’d rather.”

Simon blinked at him, unsure if he was being serious. 

“Ah, I’m just messing with ya. C’mon, it’s just around the block.” Datz said, beckoning with one hand as he turned back down the alley. Simon, with some reluctance, followed.

As promised, once they turned the corner of the next block, they came upon a large building made of white stone. Datz pulled a key from his pocket and unlocked the unassuming metal door, holding it open for Simon.

“After you, esteemed guest!”

Simon resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he entered the building. When Datz didn’t follow him, he turned around and raised a brow.

“This is where I leave ya!” Datz said. “I gotta go take care of some things for Queen Amara. Yuty should be in the meeting room, down the hall that way. Last door on the left.”

“Right,” Simon said. “Uh, thanks for the ride.”

“No problem-o! I’m sure I’ll see you around. Tell Yuty I say hi!” Datz said, flashing that wide grin at Simon one more time before disappearing off into the night.

JULY 28 ^TH , 9:05 PM

KHURA’INESE MINISTRY OF JUSTICE

Simon stood in the hall for a moment, taking in his new surroundings. The Ministry was an old building, but one that had clearly been well-maintained. There was little in terms of decoration, but the polished floor and sanded stone walls had an understated elegance to them.

Simon took a deep breath. Time to go find Nahyuta.

He headed down the hall in the direction Datz had indicated, suitcase rolling silently behind him thanks to the smooth floors. After a few yards, he could see light peeking out from behind a door at the very end of the hallway. He approached quietly, pausing with his fist raised inches from the door.

Why was he hesitating? It was just Nahyuta. He saw him every day; they lived together. So why was he suddenly anxious about what awaited him behind this door? Sure, they had some things they needed to talk about. But Simon had known about his feelings for a few weeks at this point, and he hadn’t been scared of seeing Nahyuta until now. Perhaps it was because this was Nahyuta’s home, somewhere Simon wasn’t familiar with. Or maybe it was because Simon had no idea what to expect from the Sad Monk. Would he be happy to see him? Or would he be annoyed? Was Simon overstepping by even being here? Had he crossed some boundary figuratively as well as physically? What if—

Simon’s internal spiraling was cut short by a loud THUNK followed by what Simon would guess were Khura’inese curses from behind the door. It sounded like someone had dropped a number of heavy books on the floor. Right— he was here for work. Now wasn’t the time to be concerned with his personal life. Shaking his head at his own ridiculous actions, Simon knocked on the door before he could convince himself not to.

A few seconds later, the door swung open. Rather than the greeting he expected, Simon instead received an abrupt kick to the solar plexus. The air was fully knocked from his lungs, and he was unable to react fast enough to prevent his assailant’s follow-up shove. The force was enough to send him stumbling backwards until his back hit the opposite wall. He let out an oof of surprise, arms starting to come up in defense, only to freeze as he felt the cool metal of a blade against his neck.

From what Simon had been able to glimpse mid-attack, his attacker wasn’t particularly tall or broad. A flash of hot pink fabric and golden jewelry also suggested that he was being threatened by a woman. This was not reassuring— Simon knew very well not to underestimate an opponent based on size or gender. Athena had taught him that the first time they’d trained together after his release, when he’d discovered that she’d learned quite a few new moves while he was gone.

He raised his head slowly, glaring through his fringe at the blade’s wielder. His gaze was met by a pair of familiar jade-green eyes set in an unfamiliar, snarling face framed by loops of thick black hair.

“Who are you?” The strange young woman demanded, eyes blazing as she pressed her blade harder against Simon’s neck. “What are you doing here? How’d you get in?” 

Heh, Simon thought. She’s going to have to do better than that if she wants to get through the scar tissue. He could barely even feel the metal’s edge; it was a familiar enough sensation to make his stomach churn, though.

“Answer me!” she hissed, dissatisfied with his silence. “I demand you identify yourself at once!”

“I was under the impression I was expected,” Simon said, pushing away his growing anxiety and speaking in a careful monotone.

The girl’s eyes narrowed even further. “You certainly are not,” she said. 

“Rayfa!” Another voice rang out from across the hallway, carrying a note of alarm. 

The woman— Rayfa, Simon supposed— yelled something back in Khura’inese, not taking her blade nor her eyes off him. Simon had no idea what she was saying, but she sounded annoyed.

The second voice yelled something back, also in Khura’inese. His assailant scoffed, but stood down, tucking what Simon could now see was a long ceremonial knife into a sheath on her waist. She turned on her heel, striding back into the room with a huff, leaving Simon alone in the hallway with the owner of the second voice. He glanced up and locked gazes with a second pair of those familiar jade-green eyes.

“Sad Monk,” he rasped, rubbing at his neck, “that was quite the welcome.”

Nahyuta sighed, eyes closing in resignation. He looked tired; Simon could see the dark circles beneath his eyes, deep enough to rival his own. He’d clearly been at work for a while— his usual cream-colored overcoat was absent, leaving him in only a red turtleneck, the sleeves of which were hazardously rolled up above his elbows. There were frizzy strands of hair sticking out from his braid and an ink smudge on his chin, likely from the uncapped pen currently tucked behind one of his ears.

“I do apologize for my sister, Panda,” he said. “It would appear I neglected to inform her that you would be arriving this evening. She is… on edge, given the events of the past few days.”

“I see.” Simon said. So that had been his sister; that would explain the matching eyes.

“I hope she did not cause you any genuine harm,” Nahyuta continued. “Please, do come in.”

“Tch. Give me a moment, Sad Monk,” Simon said, leaning back against the wall.

Nahyuta’s brow furrowed with concern. “Did she hurt you?”  he asked.

Simon waved a hand dismissively. “No, Sahdmadhi, I’m fine. I just need to catch my breath. Your sister packs quite the punch. Go on, I’ll grace you with my presence in a minute.”

Nahyuta looked unconvinced, but he did as Simon asked, disappearing back into the meeting room.

Once he was gone, Simon sagged against the wall, sinking down to a seated position. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply. In for four seconds, hold for four. Exhale, four seconds, hold, four seconds. Repeat. It was a technique he’d used for years to keep himself calm, to ground himself when needed. He hadn’t been lying about needing to catch his breath, but he hadn’t been entirely truthful, either. 

The feeling of a knife against one’s throat and a heavy shackle around one’s neck were quite different, but the sharp, metallic pressure of the former was enough to trigger memories of the latter. Simon sighed, rubbing at his neck again to reassure himself that there was nothing there. It hadn’t been bad enough to trigger a full-blown panic attack, but it wasn’t exactly pleasant, either.

After a few more moments of careful breathing, Simon concluded that he appeared to be safe from any sort of emotional reaction. It was hard to tell, sometimes— on some days, the tiniest thing could set him off, while on others, he remained entirely unfazed. He’d worried that, after the stress of the flight, he was vulnerable to an episode, but it seemed he had enough luck to avoid that, at least for now. 

Standing, Simon dusted himself off and shook his head a few times, trying to clear it. Then, he crossed the hall and entered the meeting room.

Inside, he found Rayfa and Nahyuta situated on opposite sides of a long coffee table laden with various books and printouts. Nahyuta was perched on one edge of the couch, bent over his laptop and rapidly scrolling through something. Meanwhile, Rayfa knelt on the floor opposite, digging through a pile of documents, knocking some off the table in her haste.

Rayfa noticed Simon’s entrance first. She said something to Nahyuta in Khura’inese, causing him to straighten and turn towards him.

“Ah, Simon,” he said, setting down the laptop and plucking a folder from the pile next to him. “I thought you could get started here. These are details on some of the compensation packages that we distributed to exonerees following they release. That should give you some idea of what we’ve done already.” He held out the folder out in Simon’s direction. 

Simon, having approached Nahyuta while he was speaking, nodded silently and took the folder from his grasp. He sat on the other end of the couch, flipped it open, and began to read.

JULY 29 ^TH , 7:35 AM

KHURA’INESE MINISTRY OF JUSTICE

The next thing Simon knew, he was blinking his eyes open to the bright glare of sunlight.

He made a small noise of protest, one hand coming up to shield his squinting eyes. As he shifted, he felt a twinge in his lower back, which alerted him to the fact that he was in a semi-reclined position, leaning against something solid. Why had he fallen asleep sitting up?

As he blinked the sleep from his eyes, Simon began to recall the events of the prior evening. Right— he was in Khura’in, here to help Nahyuta with the exoneree legislation. He vaguely remembered the flight, and the trip into the city with Datz. He also remembered being held at knifepoint by Nahyuta’s sister, and following the two of them into a small meeting room at the Ministry.

Now that his eyes had adjusted to the morning sunlight, Simon was able to see more of his surroundings. He appeared to be sitting on a couch, with a folder of documents laying open in his lap. He must have fallen asleep while reading. That struck him as odd— he would have thought Nahyuta would’ve woken him if he’d dozed off during their briefing session. So what was he doing still on the couch?

This question was answered mere moments later, as a small groan and accompanying movement caused Simon to register the warm weight pressing against his left side. He glanced over and found, to his surprise, the slumbering form of Nahyuta Sahdmadhi seated on the couch next to him. His head rested on Simon’s shoulder, and one of his arms was wrapped around Simon’s, hand loosely grasping his forearm. He mumbled something under his breath, but appeared to still be fully unconscious. Simon could feel the soft, silky texture of his hair against his neck.

Cheeks heating, Simon surveyed the rest of the room, careful not to jostle the monk as he did so. Across from them, Rayfa was keeled over the coffee table, her head bracketed by her arms and her cheek pressed against the centerfold of an open book. She was snoring softly, and appeared as equally dead to the world as her brother.

It would appear that the three of them had all managed to fall asleep while working. It occurred to Simon that he should probably wake the other two up— after all, they were both royalty, and probably had places they needed to be. But, he wasn’t exactly keen on startling the same woman who’d pulled a knife on him yesterday. Also, he was very tired, and the feeling of Nahyuta’s warm body pressed against his was very comfortable. He’d just close his eyes and enjoy it for five more minutes…

JULY 29 ^TH , 8:15 AM

KHURA’INESE MINISTRY OF JUSTICE

Nahyuta woke up holding someone’s hand.

He was also seated upright, had a massive crick in his neck, and felt distinctly as if he had forgotten something important, but right now his brain was focused on the hand-holding.

Nahyuta blinked, glancing down at his own hand. It was easy to find— it lay directly in front of him, curled around another, paler hand peeking out of a long, black sleeve, which Nahyuta’s own arm was intertwined with. The combination of his viewpoint and the screaming ache in his neck told him that he had fallen asleep on someone’s shoulder. Add to that the dark clothing and faint scarring just visible on the wrist next to his, and he was left with only one conceivable explanation: Nahyuta had fallen asleep on Simon Blackquill. While, for some reason, holding his hand. 

How… mortifying.

Nahyuta was pulled from his internal musings by a loud scoff. He startled, raising his head from Simon’s shoulder in search of the noise’s source. His neck protested the movement and he winced.

It didn’t take long for Nahyuta to identify where the scoff had come from. Rayfa stood on the other side of the room, arms crossed over her chest with a decidedly unimpressed look on her face. She scoffed again.

“I see you’re finally awake, Braid Head,” she said. “It would appear that we all worked ourselves into unconsciousness yesterday evening.”

“Mhm,” Nahyuta replied, coherently.

“You and your…colleague seem rather cozy,” Rayfa continued, the tiniest of grins gracing her features. “While I’d love to grill you about that, I’m late for morning prayers. As a matter of fact, so are you, but that’s less important because you’re not the Queen. Even so, I’d suggest waking your cuddle buddy up and getting on it.”

She paused, looking over at Simon’s sleeping figure with disdain. 

“Now. I must be going. Goodbye, Braid Head.”

She sniffed and turned to exit the room. Nahyuta watched her go, sleep-addled brain still processing her little speech. As she left, Rayfa let the door slam closed behind her with a loud bang. A moment later, Nahyuta felt Simon’s hand tighten around his as he startled awake with a gasp.

Simon sat up abruptly, their still intertwined arms pulling Nahyuta up from his position curled up against his side. The unexpected drag on his arm caused him to turn. His eyes trailed up their arms and up to Nahyuta’s face. He looked confused, and a little bit red.

“It is only me, Panda,” Nahyuta said, gently disentangling their arms. He placed his newly-freed hand on Simon’s knee. “We fell asleep in the Ministry. Are you alright?”

“Fine,” he said, “I’m fine.”

Nahyuta looked at him, eyes unreadable.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’ve not been a very good host, have I? I let Rayfa assault you, then I pulled you straight into work without even asking about your flight or wellbeing, and now I’ve forced you to sleep on a rickety old couch.”

Simon blinked at him, frowning. “It’s fine, Sad Monk,” he said. “I… could have done without the knife incident, but I did come here to work, after all. And you hardly forced me to fall asleep here.”

“Even so,” Nahyuta replied, looking away. “I was inconsiderate.”

Simon reached out, taking the hand Nahyuta had rested on his knee and twining their fingers back together.

“You’re under a lot of stress,” he said gently, running his thumb over the back of Nahyuta’s hand. “I understand that.”

Nahyuta sighed, leaning over to rest his forehead against Simon’s shoulder. In his half-awake state, it seemed his affections were less inhibited. “I’m sorry to have dragged you into all this,” he said quietly. “I’m sure you weren’t expecting all of this when we… became involved.”

Simon hummed. “No, I wasn’t. But neither were you. Life is an unpredictable beast. There’s always risk in “becoming involved” with someone, as you call it.”

Nahyuta laughed lightly. “We didn’t exactly have time to decide we wanted to call it, did we?”

“No, we didn’t” Simon said, using the hand not currently holding Nahyuta’s to gently lift the other man’s head up from his shoulder. He turned slightly so they could look each other in the eye. “But we still could.”

“We… could?” Nahyuta asked, brows furrowing. “Even after…”

“Even after all this,” Simon finished for him. “I’m not so easy to scare off, Sad Monk. I don’t want you to worry about us when you’ve got so many other things on your plate. We’re okay. We can figure out the details once things settle down a bit. Until then, we can just take things as they come.”

“Oh,” Nahyuta said, expression softening. “As they come, you say?”

“Mhm. For example, I’ve just learned that holding you feels rather nice, and if you’re amenable, I’d like to do it again.” Simon said.

“I see. How fortunate, then, that I’ve just learned the same thing about you.” Nahyuta said, smiling as he shifted closer, tucking himself against Simon’s side.

Simon let out a laugh, a tiny smile unfurling across his face. He untangled their fingers, moving instead to wrap his arm carefully around Nahyuta’s shoulders. The other man leaned into the touch, his cheek coming to rest just below Simon’s collarbone as he was pulled halfway into his lap. Simon pressed a gentle kiss to the top of his head, which was met with a pleased hum.

“You know, Panda, we must be getting back to work soon,” Nahyuta murmured, bringing one hand up to rest against Simon’s chest. He breathed in the faint, woodsy scent that clung to Simon’s clothes, the one he’d come to associate fondly with him. Though he’d only been gone a handful of days, he’d missed it.

“Yes, I know,” Simon said, tucking a stray bit of hair gently behind Nahyuta’s ear. He used the arm he had wrapped around his back to pull Nahyuta closer. 

“We’ll get there.”

Chapter Text

AUGUST 3 ^rd , 9:33 AM

GULATI RESIDENCE

A few days after Simon’s arrival, they made their first trip to speak with the exonerees. 

After some discussion, Simon and Nahyuta had hashed out a rough plan for the development of further reforms. Their first step was a second conversation with Nirav Gulati, the exoneree that Nahyuta had originally returned to prosecute.

At Gulati’s hearing, Nahyuta had implored the judge to sentence him to probation only, as well as community service. He, Simon, and Minister Nayar had collectively decided that Gulati would be far more useful assisting in reforms than he would be sitting behind bars, and the judge had ultimately agreed. So, Gulati’s community service would consist of him acting as liaison between the prosecutors and the exoneree population.

Gulati wasn’t exactly thrilled to be working with Nahyuta, but he’d begrudgingly agreed to help. Though he maintained his disdain for prosecutors, he also recognized that they likely held the power to change things for his community, and he was hardly going to stand in the way.

So, here they were, standing awkwardly in front of Gulati’s home. The man in question had just stepped out his front door and stopped cold at the sight of Simon.

He turned to Nahyuta. “Who in the name of the Holy Mother is this… ghoul?” he asked, in Khura’inese.

“This is Simon Blackquill,” Nahyuta replied smoothly. “He’s a prosecutor from America.”

“And he’s here to what? Act as your muscle?” Gulati asked, still speaking his mother tongue as he gave Simon a dubious once-over. Despite his lack of familiarity with the language, Nahyuta could see Simon bristle slightly at the obvious implication of the gesture.

“Not quite,” Nahyuta said. “He’ll be assisting in the reforms. I assure you his appearance has nothing to do with it. Now, if you would, please speak English while he is present. I do not wish to exclude him.”

“Very well,” Gulati said. “Thought I do not know why you have brought in an American prosecutor.”

“He has worked on prison reform legislation back h— back in the States.” Nahyuta said. “I do not doubt his expertise will be invaluable.”

Gulati let out a noncommittal huff. “Fine. Let’s go.”

With that, the trio began their journey. Their walk was completed in silence— Gulati did not appear to have anything more to say to either of them, and Nahyuta was not inclined to push him. Simon seemed to have a similar idea, though he did walk a few paces behind them as they went.

They did not need to walk far. Gulati’s home was on the edge of the city, just a few blocks from one of the main marketplaces. Gulati had informed them that many of the exonerees could be found around that area, and that it would be a good place to start their interviews.

They began by simply going door-to-door. Nahyuta took the lead, politely explaining what they were here for and asking if there were any exonerees in the household that would be willing to speak with them. Further, he explained that they would provide a hot meal and compensation for their time. 

Then, if there were any interested parties, they would take them back to one of the local restaurants to discuss. Nahyuta had known the owner since childhood, and was able to rent out the small dining area and paid for the owner to provide meals to the exonerees as they interviewed them. 

It was a slow and often frustrating process. Even with the promise of food and money, many of the exonerees remained skeptical. Gulati was helpful there, stepping in and explaining that there was no risk of further imprisonment, and that the prosecutors simply wanted to know what they could do to help. His explanations carried a note of sarcasm, but they were more effective than not.

Simon hung back for most of the conversations, as the majority were conducted in Khura’inese. Nahyuta had brought a translater with them, who sat next to him and quietly translated the conversations into English. That way, Simon was able to jump in with any clarifying questions or follow-ups as the interviews went on.

Each person’s story was different, but they were able to identify a number of common themes. Difficulty finding work, being shunned by others in the community, and having long spent the stipend originally provided by the government were topics that appeared in nearly every interview. Nahyuta kept a carefully neutral expression as he wrote each of the exoneree’s comments down, but Simon could see that each one made him more and more tense.

By the end of the day, Nahyuta looked worn-out. He led Simon and the rest of their party back to the palace in silence, where he dismissed them all and went to his own office. Simon followed him there.

Nahyuta stood at his desk, his back to Simon as he braced himself against the wooden surface. He let out a long sigh.

“They’re suffering so much,” he said. “Still so much, and I had no idea.”

“Yes,” Simon replied, leaning against the wall near the entrance. “They are. You made a mistake, but now you’re trying to fix it. You better not be ramping up for another session of self-flagellation.”

Nahyuta stiffened. “I’m not going to wallow.”

“Good. Now, let’s talk solutions. What can we do?”

Nahyuta turned, facing Simon once again. The tiredness lingered in his eyes, but there was determination there, too. He sat back on the edge of the desk, regarding Simon silently. He cleared his throat.

“Here’s what I’m thinking…”

Nahyuta launched into an explanation of his proposed solutions, bouncing the ideas back and forth with Simon to refine them. They came up with a handful of solid ideas: government-run trade schools, apprenticeship programs, financial incentives for businesses who employed exonerees for a significant duration and paid them above a certain wage. 

They were only ideas, but Nahyuta seemed to brighten the more and more they debated over them. The relief he felt from actively working to solve the problems he’d help cause was palpable. Simon grinned at the sight in spite of himself. 

They continued discussing late into the evening, stopping only when Simon’s stomach made an audible grumble and caused them both to realize that they had long since talked through dinner. Nahyuta then led them down to the palace kitchens, where they pilfered some leftovers and ate them right there, seated next to each other on the kitchen floor. It was possibly the best meal Simon had had since he’d come to Khura’in.

Afterwards, Nahyuta guided them back to Simon’s guest chambers. He seemed in good spirits, far more relaxed than he had been earlier in the day. Before Nahyuta had a chance to bid him goodnight, Simon decided now was as good a time as any to bring up the topic that’d been nagging at him since his arrival.

“Sad Monk, wait. There is… something I wished to ask you about, actually,” Simon said, pausing outside his doorway.

“Oh?” Nahyuta quirked one eyebrow as he opened the door, stepping aside to let Simon through. “And what would that be?”

“Would… would you just come in, Sad Monk?” Simon asked, turning just inside the doorway. “I feel weird with you just standing there, like you’re ready to bolt at any moment. I promise I won’t bite.”

“That’s a lie,” Nahyuta said, rolling his eyes but stepping into the room nonetheless. He let the door swing shut behind him with a soft click.

“Ah, my mistake. I won’t bite unless you’d like me to,” Simon amended with a grin. “But that’s not what I wanted to ask you about.”

Simon sat down on the edge of the bed, tilting his head sideways to indicate that Nahyuta should join him. He did so, leaving a good amount of space between them. Simon tried not to read too much into it.

“I was speaking with Datz, on my way here,” Simon said, “and I noticed that he… well, he refers to you differently than I had expected.”

“Differently?” Nahyuta asked. “What do you mean?”

Simon sighed, knowing it would be best if he just came out and said it. “He refers to you with they/them pronouns. I was under the impression you used he/him.”

“Oh,” Nahyuta said. “Right. That.”

“We do not have to discuss it if you do not wish to. I just… want to make sure I’m not unintentionally misgendering you.”

“You are not,” Nahyuta said, his voice soft. “I am “non-binary”, as they say in your country; that’s why Datz speaks of me as he does. To be honest, I usually prefer he/him. Datz is just… enthusiastic about it.”

“I don’t follow,” Simon said. “About Datz, I mean. Not the non-binary part, I get that.”

“Ah, well,” Nahyuta floundered for a moment, as if Simon had said something unexpected. “Datz, it’s his way of being supportive. I’ve told him that either one is fine, but he insists upon using gender-neutral language for me as much as possible.” 

He laughed. “It’s sweet, in a weird, stubborn, Datz sort of way, so I let him do as he pleases. I do not particularly care how people refer to me, to be honest. It’s not something I worry about all that much. More trouble than it’s worth, particularly around people back in the states. They aren’t always… okay with it.”

“No, they aren’t,” Simon said. He shifted himself slightly along the edge of the bed, moving closer to Nahyuta’s side. 

“But you’re okay with it?” Nahyuta asked, peering over at Simon through the curtain of hair he’d let fall between them.

“Of course I am,” Simon said. “I mean, I’m… I’m not exactly a stranger to being misgendered, so. That’s why I wanted to ask.”

That seemed to pique Nahyuta’s interest. He reached up, tucking one strand of hair behind his ear so he could look at Simon properly. “What do you mean, not a stranger?”

“Tch. Must I spell it out for you, Sad Monk?”

Nahyuta blinked at him owlishly. Simon rolled his eyes.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Simon said. “I’m non-binary too, you dullard.”

“Oh,” Nahyuta said. Then, after a beat: “Oh.”

Simon nodded, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

Nahyuta’s brow creased. “I haven’t been mis—“

“No, Sad Monk, I’m still a man. Sort of. It’s complicated.”

Nahyuta sighed, leaning over to rest his head carefully on Simon’s shoulder.

“I get that,” he said softly. “It’s hard to put into words.”

“Mhm,” Simon hummed in agreement, reaching over to wrap Nahyuta’s hand in his as he pressed a kiss to the other’s forehead.

“I mean, I never even really considered it until I started prosecuting in the West,” Nahyuta said. “Khura’inism centers women, certainly, but it does not uphold rigid gender roles. Rather, there are women, and there are... not-women, but non-women aren’t really defined in any way. There is only the question of having a gender which aligns with the Holy Mother or not.”

Nahyuta sighed, waving one hand in the air. “That line is blurry, though. My parents insisted that I must be a girl when I was young because I do have some limited spiritual powers, which usually are only granted to women. And I did try that for a while, but it became clear rather quickly that I do not experienced alignment of any sort with womanhood.”

He laughed softly. “Ga’ran used to chastise me for it. Said I was denying my true self and that my “lifestyle choices” were an insult to the Holy Mother. I do not deny that I feel a connection to the Holy Mother, but it is in another way that I cannot quite explain. At least, not well enough to satisfy Ga’ran.”

Simon squeezed his hand encouragingly, and Nahyuta shot him a small smile.

“Things were different, when I started traveling to Europe and the Americas,” he continued. “I was mistaken for a woman rather often, and it felt… strange, to be given such an intimate and powerful label by a complete stranger. I found myself unsure how to respond, so I simply ignored it and allowed people to refer to me as they pleased.”

He sighed, dropping his head onto Simon’s shoulder.

“Men in your country are different, too. I would get leered at or followed by random men in the streets, and they would— how do you say… ah, yes. Cat-call, I believe is the term. At first, I tried to tell them I was a man, thinking it would get them to leave me alone. Sometimes it did, but more often than not it made them angry. I am very thick-skinned thanks to my upbringing, but I would be lying if I said I was not affected by the unsavory things they called me. It did not take me long to learn it was best to simply ignore them and move on.”

“Bastards,” Simon practically growled. Nahyuta could feel him tensing beneath him.

Nahyuta snickered. “Calm down, Panda, it was a long time ago. I’m fine.”

“Tch,” was Simon’s only response, but he did relax slightly. Nahyuta took that at his cue to keep talking.

“I think, perhaps, that gender being the way one connects to the Holy Mother is an oversimplification. Something that can and often does serve as a conduit, but isn’t the only method of spiritual connection. Such a concept would be considered far too radical by most Khura’inese followers, but it is a belief I have cultivated on my own. I’ve… never actually shared that with anyone, before.”

Nahyuta lifted his head and glanced over at Simon, who was looking over at him with a thoughtful expression. Their gazes met, and Simon quirked a questioning eyebrow.

“You’ve got quite the talent for getting me to spill all my secrets, Simon Blackquill,” Nahyuta said.

“Much as I pride myself on my skills in psychology, I don’t think that actually has much to do with me,” Simon replied. “I think you’ve just never had someone to properly talk to.”

Nahyuta paused, considering this for a moment. “I suppose you are right,” he said. Then, after a pause: “What about you?” 

“What about me?”

“Simon, do not play the fool. You have no obligation to tell me if you do not want to.”

“Tch,” Simon sighed. “It’s not that. I’m no wordsmith like you. I don’t have any deep backstory in this department, not really. People said I was one thing, and they were wrong, so I kept telling them that until they started getting it right.”

Nahyuta laughed. “I suppose you were just as stubborn as a child as you are now, then.”

Simon grinned. “That, and I had a very intimidating older sister with no qualms about bullying anyone who tried to give me shit for it.”

Nahyuta laughed again at that, and Simon joined in. Nahyuta could feel his laughter reverberating through his chest where they were pressed together. Somehow, over the course of their conversation, they had ended up practically in each other’s laps.

After a moment, the two of them quieted, at first slowing down to catch their breaths, then simply enjoying the stillness of the moment. Nahyuta was the first to break the silence.

“Thank you for this, Simon,” he said. “For all of it.”

Simon opened his mouth to respond, but was met instead by a pair of soft, warm lips pressing against his. He swallowed back his words, focusing instead on returning the kiss. It was just as wonderful as all its predecessors, just as stirring and heated.

Simon’s hand found its way to the back of Nahyuta’s neck. He tilted his head gently to one side, deepening the kiss.

“Mph.. wait,” Nahyuta suddenly pulled away, taking the warmth of his lips with him.

Simon, disappointed, cracked open a single eye, surveying the monk.

Nahyuta looked conflicted. “I can’t keep doing this if you’re just keeping up a pretense,” he said, all in a rush.

That made Simon sit up, both eyes open and fully alert. “A… pretense?” he asked.

“Yes,” Nahyuta said, his chin held up a little higher. “I know we said we’d talk about… us… when we returned to the States, but it would appear I cannot help myself when you are so close. But if you are merely appeasing me for the sake of my prosecutorial work here, than I do not think we should continue.”

“Appeasing you? Is that what you think I’m doing?” Simon asked, tone more accusatory than he intended.

“No,” Nahyuta replied, bristling. “I hope it’s not. But it is an idea I cannot get out of my mind— that you believe that rejecting me now would cause my work on the reforms to fall apart.”

“Nahyuta,” Simon said, “I do not think so little of you.”

“What?”

“I may be manipulative in the courtroom, but I am not when it comes to people I care about,” Simon said firmly. “And I know you are far too proud to let something as measly as a romantic rejection stop you from doing your job as best you can.”

He leaned in closer. “I’m not trying to keep you happy for your country’s sake, Nahyuta. I’m trying to make you happy because I want you to be. Because I think you deserve to be.”

“And,” he added after a moment, “because I cannot keep myself from you, either. I’m doing this for my own benefit too, you know. It is no chore or hardship to be intimate with you.”

“Oh,” Nahyuta said.

“Are you trying to appease me?” Simon asked.

“Of course not,” Nahyuta said. “I’m trying to— I’m saying that—“

He paused, taking a deep breath.

“Simon,” he said, “I want to be with you in every sense of the word. For my own sake— not for my country’s, or my job’s. I simply care for you.” He swallowed thickly. “I care for you very much.”

“How convenient,” Simon breathed, “that I care very much for you, too.”

He leaned forward, capturing Nahyuta’s lips between his own. Nahyuta met him in earnest, pushing him back into the pillows amassed at the head of the bed. Simon lay back easily, arms looping around Nahyuta’s waist as he settled onto his chest.

They stayed like that for a long while, simply kissing and enjoying each other’s company. They pulled apart only when Simon started yawning mid-kiss.

Nahyuta giggled. “Is my panda falling asleep?”

“Hmph,” Simon said, too tired to argue. “Perhaps.”

He rolled over so they were both laying on their sides, facing each other. Simon reached out to smooth the hair back from Nahyuta’s forehead.

“Stay?” he asked quietly.

Nahyuta responded by pulling their chests flush and tangling their legs together. 

Simon laughed, letting Nahyuta nestle his face into the crook of his neck.

“Goodnight, Nahyuta.”

“Goodnight, Simon. Sleep well.”

Chapter Text

AUGUST 4 ^TH , 4:36 AM

KHURA’INESE ROYAL PALACE, GUEST CHAMBERS

Nahyuta woke to screaming.

Not his, though that would not have been unusual. No, this scream was different— it was anguished, guttural and deep. Unfamiliar.

Nahyuta had barely registered that the sound had awoken him when he was thwacked across the face. Confused and slightly indignant, Nahyuta sat up, half expecting to find Rayfa standing over him, pulling some childish prank.

When he opened his eyes, though, his sister was nowhere to be seen. In fact, there was no one standing over him at all. Nahyuta was momentarily confused before a movement from the other side of the bed clued him in to his companion’s location.

A grunt from behind him caused Nahyuta to pivot swiftly, arms coming up just in time to catch the flailing limb of his bedfellow as he thrashed about.

A familiar, black-clad, muscular arm. Simon’s arm.

Nahyuta’s eyes widened as he took in the scene. Both of them were still dressed in their day clothes, though they were now rumpled and creased from being slept in. Next to him, Simon continued to jostle about, the occasional pained noise escaping his lips. He seemed entirely unaware of Nahyuta’s presence.

Tentatively, Nahyuta reached over and placed one hand gently on his shoulder. He did not react. Nahyuta moved his hand upwards, waving it slightly in front of Simon’s face. Again, no reaction. A moment later, though, completely independent of anything Nahyuta had done, he let out another short groan.

So this is what someone looked like while they were having a nightmare.

Nahyuta felt a jolt of pity stab his heart. He knew better than most how horrifying dreams could be. He was already reaching out to grab Simon, to shake him out of his stupor, when he thought better of it.

Much as it pained him to see Simon like this, attempting to wake him now might not be a good idea. Whatever nightmare he was having, it was clearly violent, if Simon’s clenched fists and blind flailing were anything to go by. Forcing him awake might trigger his fight-or-flight response, and Nahyuta had a strong suspicion that Simon tended toward the former. 

Nahyuta himself did not do well to being startled awake from a vivid nightmare. He had awoken more than once to find, to his horror, someone who was very much not an assailant pinned beneath him. Usually it was one of the palace’s attendants, but it had also once been Rayfa. He was haunted by the expression on her face when he awoken,  the knife he kept under his pillow in his grasp, pressed against her throat. He’d never actually hurt her, or anyone, but he’d come close.

He would simply have to wait things out.

Nahyuta sat up fully, coming to a cross legged position just next to Simon, not quite touching him but close enough to stop him from hurting himself if it came to that. He took a deep breath, steeled himself, and began his vigil.

Simon’s nightmare lasted a long time. Nahyuta picked a few phrases out of the garbled mess— No, don’t and Fool-right were the most common, though Nahyuta had not the faintest idea what the second one meant. His arms jerked about, fingers digging into his wrists as if trying to remove nonexistent chains. Nahyuta carefully reached over, taking one of his pillows and carefully wedging it between Simon’s hands, allowing him to claw at the fabric instead of his own flesh.

The screams eventually faded to whimpers, which were somehow even worse. Someone as strong as Simon was not meant to be reduced to such tiny, anguished sounds. It wasn’t right. He tossed and turned as whatever horrible thing his mind was showing him played out, landing himself with his head in Nahyuta’s lap after a particularly sharp jerk.

Gingerly, Nahyuta reached out, running his fingers carefully through Simon’s tangled hair. He kept the strokes short, careful not to pull on any of the knots, opting to pass by them instead. A few minutes passed, Simon growing gradually quieter, his struggling dying down until only the steady rising and falling of his chest remained.

Then, a croaking, groggy voice: “Yuta?”

Startled, Nahyuta looked down to his lap, where Simon was slowly blinking his eyes open. Nahyuta’s fingers were still intertwined with his thick hair, running along the white streak he’d been absentmindedly pushing back from Simon’s forehead. 

“Hello, Panda,” Nahyuta said, smiling slightly. “Are you alright?”

Simon sat up, frowning. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You were screaming,” Nahyuta replied softly. “In your sleep, I mean. I didn’t want to wake you; I know how jarring that can be.”

Simon blinked at him, his features difficult to read in the dim room. They were lit only by the diluted rays of early morning sun that slipped through the cracks of the room’s heavy curtains, and disappeared nearly completely into darkness as Simon turned his head.

“I apologize for the disturbance,” he said stiffly.

Nahyuta frowned, leaning towards him. “I’m not bothered by that. I’m more concerned for your wellbeing.”

“I don’t need you to be.” Simon snapped.

Nahyuta paused, startled by the sharpness in Simon’s voice. “I— you were clawing at your wrists,” Nahyuta said. “I cannot help but think that might have something to do with our conversations with the exonerees, earlier.”

“It didn’t. I’m fine, Sahdmadhi,” Simon said. 

“Are you sure?” Nahyuta insisted. “I’m very grateful for your help here, but if it’s coming at the cost of your own mental health—“

“Oh, shove off,” Simon said, pushing himself off the bed. He moved towards the door, searching blindly for the shoes he’d left there the evening prior. “I can handle myself.”

“I know that,” Nahyuta said, swallowing back his unease at Simon’s negative reaction. “I only wish for you to know you don’t have to do so on your own.”

Simon, who’d managed to find and put on his shoes, spun back around with a glare. “Sahdmadhi, leave it.”

“But—“

“Just because you are prone to spilling all your darkest secrets to whoever happens to be nearby when you’re upset, doesn’t mean the rest of us are!” Simon spat, tone viscous as it had been during their first meeting in court. “I can handle myself. I don’t need you to play therapist. Just… just leave me alone.”

With that, he wrenched open the door and stalked out into the hallway.

Nahyuta remained where he was, silent and frozen, long after the echoes of the slamming door faded into the soft chirping of morning songbirds.

AUGUST 4 ^TH , 10:23 AM

KHURA’INESE MINISTRY OF JUSTICE

Simon knew he had fucked up.

Royally. Really freaking badly. Irreparably, even.

The two of them had finally, finally gotten on the same page, and then Simon had to go and fuck it up almost immediately. Go figure. 

The next morning, he expected to get the cold shoulder from Nahyuta for his troubles. Instead, he got the perfectly polite and cordial Nahyuta who smiled at him without it reaching his eyes. He kept their interactions short and to the point, strictly professional. There was no trace of the gentle person he’d woken up next to only hours before.

Simon wished he’d just yell at him instead.

He hadn’t meant to snap like that. It’d just been a long time since he’d had such a disturbing dream, and he didn’t know how to handle it.

The nightmare had been a new one.

It’d started much the same as usual; Simon was back in his tiny cell, his wrists once again encased in cold, thick metal shackles. This time, though, his cell was different. It had a window, small and eye-level. Simon had approached it, confused, to see where it led.

Through the window, he’d seen… himself. In the Chief Prosecutor’s office, being granted prosecutorial permission. At the police station, being introduced to Detective Bobby Fulbright. In court, facing off against Apollo Justice, the detective looking sheepish on the witness stand. In his own office, working through case details with Fulbright and berating him for his perceived idiocy.

The sight made Simon’s head spin. As each memory played on, he tried desperately to warn his former self— to tell him that he was in danger, that he was trusting the wrong person, but his cries went unheard. He could not change the past. There was nothing he could do as the memories he’d tried so hard to forget played in full color right in front of him.

Fulbright showing up at his cell door day after day, despite all the vitriol and insults that Simon had hurled at him. Fulbright smiling that obnoxious smile, stubbornly refusing to give up on his mission of Simon’s “redemption” no matter how many times he told him he was irredeemable.  Fulbright laughing at his insults as if they were light-hearted jokes, refusing to be put off by his dark demeanor. Fulbright apologizing profusely whenever he’d made the decision to activate Simon’s electrocuted manacles, his expression so pathetically forlorn that Simon couldn’t help but forgive him. 

Every memory was a fresh cut, a stinging reminder of his own foolishness.

Fulbright had been so infuriatingly insistent, so endlessly reliable and childishly naïve. So very easy to underestimate. He’d wormed his way into Simon’s life and gotten closer to him than he’d allowed anyone to in years. 

Simon should have known not to trust him. Should have known that there wasn’t anyone truly so selfless, anyone who could genuinely hold such blind faith in a someone like him. For all his psychological prowess, he was only human, and what he’d believed to be Fulbright’s kindness had worn him down eventually. 

He’d never told Fulbright the whole truth of his situation; that was something he believed he’d take to the grave, and in hindsight, this was a very good choice on his part. But he had begun to let him in, just a little— told him about prison politics, about his personal frustrations with the judicial system. Even allowed him to bring little gifts— takeout soba noodles, or a book of Japanese poetry that Simon had mentioned. Besides Taka, he had been the closest thing Simon had to a friend.

Right up until he’d been unmasked as the person who’d ruined Simon’s life without a second thought.

It seemed the universe would never tire of finding new ways to be cruel to him.

He would deny it seven ways to Sunday, but that betrayal had hurt. It was a slap in the face, learning that the demon he’d been chasing had been right beneath his nose the entire time, pretending to care. Laughing at him behind his back. It was a thought too painful to bear.

Simon knew, of course, that Nahyuta and Fulbright were not at all similar. He knew that there was no way Nahyuta was secretly plotting against him, knew that the Phantom was safely locked up thousands of miles away. Yet awaking with all those memories brought back to the front of his mind and being met with care and kindness, from anyone— Simon hadn’t been able to stand it. The very idea of opening up at that moment appalled him more than he could say. 

So, he’d shut down. He’d snapped, said something he knew would hurt Nahyuta enough to make him leave him alone, and ran away. 

For a moment, it had been a relief. He was blessedly alone, able to process his emotions entirely on his own. It did not take long, however, for that relief to bleed into regret as he realized the magnitude of what he had done. Of what he might have ruined.

He knew how hard it’d been for Nahyuta to open up. He knew that what he’d been told in confidence was a demonstration of a fragile trust, one that he’d just obliterated into dust with a single sentence.

Nahyuta was never going to let him back in, and it was completely and entirely his fault.

Chapter Text

AUGUST 18 ^TH , 2:45 PM

ROYAL PENITENTIARY NUMBER 1

Nahyuta kept up the icy professional treatment for the next two weeks.

Simon still saw him every day, but he’d never felt farther apart from the monk. He was being shut out, and it was his own fault. He understood that he had a job to do, though, and neither he nor Nahyuta were going to let their personal issues interfere with their work.

It came to a head the day they visited the penitentiary.

The focus of Nahyuta’s work was exonerees, but he also recognized that those who were guilty also deserved to be treated humanely. They’d heard plenty from the exonerees how horrid the conditions of the penitentiaries were, and Nahyuta had decided it would be prudent for them to visit in-person.

It was the first time Simon had set foot in a prison since his release.

He knew this was going to be difficult. He’d fortified himself mentally in the days before the trip, practicing grounding techniques and processing his budding anxieties. He could do this.

Currently, Nahyuta was in a separate room, speaking with some of the inmates. They’d decided that Simon would sit those out, given his inability to speak or understand Khura’inese. He’d come up with a list of questions for Nahyuta to start with, and they planned to touch base multiple times throughout the day so Simon could be briefed on how the conversations were going and offer his feedback.

They’d arrived only a short while earlier, so Simon was waiting alone in the corridor, waiting for Nahyuta to complete his first round of interviews. He crossed his arms, leaning back against the cold stone wall. The corridor opened out into a central courtyard, where inmates were milling sullenly about. The clinking of their chains made Simon grit his teeth, and he purposefully made himself relax his jaw and take a few deep breaths. They weren’t his.

Simon’s attention was caught suddenly by a flash of silver. The shackles born by each prisoner were a dull iron, so the metallic glint stuck out. Simon quickly identified the source as something held in the hand of one of the prisoners, who was lurking just behind one of the guards. The guard was lecturing another of the prisoners about something, and wasn’t paying attention as the prisoner approached.

Simon realized what it was the inmate was holding just as he lifted it in the air, and his blood ran cold. The small knife clutched between his manacled hands glinted in the afternoon sun as it arced downwards towards the unsuspecting guard.

Simon was rushing towards the inmate, a cry on his lips before he even realized what he doing. The whole scene had been taking place just past the door to the corridor, and his unexpected yell startled the inmate enough that he missed,  knife swishing harmlessly through the air next to the guard’s shoulder.

The inmate barely had time to react before Simon was on him, pushing him to the ground and putting pressure on his wrist to force the knife out of his hand. The man dropped the weapon with a cry, and Simon quickly snatched it up from the ground.

He rose to his feet just in time to be tackled to the ground by the guard.

“Drop it!” The guard yelled, voice harsh in Simon’s ear.

“Wha—“ Simon sputtered, “It’s not mine!”

“Drop it! I’m not going to ask you again!” The guard repeated, a dangerous edge seeping into his tone. Clearly, he wasn’t going to listen to anything Simon had to say.

Simon obeyed, letting go of the knife. It clattered to the ground next to him, and Simon flexed his hands, emphasizing their emptiness. The knee in back, however, did not let up.

He felt the guard’s weight shift as he leaned forward, grabbing one of Simon’s wrists and then the other. 

“Hey!” Simon cried out, “I’m not a bloody—“

“Quiet!” the guard snarled, pushing Simon’s face down into the dirt. Before he could say another word, the guard sat back and the sickening sound of handcuffs unlatching rang through the silent courtyard. Then, the familiar feeling of cool metal encircled his wrists, and Simon was hauled to his feet.

Simon swallowed thickly, pushing down the growing panic. He tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t come. All he could think about was the cuffs on his wrists, and how they did not belong there. It took every ounce of self-control he had not to break them clean in two, to not fight back. Doing so would only make the situation worse.

The guard pulled him back into the corridor and towards the front of the prison, muttering under his breath in Khura’inese. Simon stumbled, earning himself a pointed shove from the guard. It barely registered past the ringing in his ears.

“What in the name of the Holy Mother do you think you’re doing!?”

That voice… Simon knew that voice.

The guard said something in Khura’inese, but was cut off swiftly by the familiar voice. Despite not knowing the language, Simon could still recognize the unbridled fury behind the words. 

A moment later, the guard released him. The manacles around his wrists were unlocked with a soft click, and Simon regained the use of his hands. He tried to move forwards, away from the guard, but stumbled, catching himself on the corridor wall. He sank down it, coming to sit on the ground, his head in his hands. His breaths were rapid; that wasn’t good. He needed to slow down, to take deep breaths. 

Above him, voices were still shouting, and the shadows of other people hung murkily in the corners of his vision. Simon didn’t know what they were saying. His vision swam into indistinguishable blurs.

After a moment, the voices quieted, and Simon heard the sound of retreating footsteps. As they faded, Simon vaguely registered the feeling of someone laying their hand hesitantly on his knee. He struck out blindly with one arm, knocking the offending appendage away. It did not return.

Simon swallowed, closing his eyes. His nails dug into his scalp where he was clutching at it, the pain bright and easy to focus on. Simon did so, and took the slowest, deepest breaths he could manage. 

In, two, three, four. Hold, two, three, four. Out, two, three, four.

Simon repeated this in his head like a mantra, over and over until his heart had stopped thumping in his chest and he could breath normally. He blinked his eyes open, relieved to find vision no longer swirling.

Nahyuta was knelt in front of him, a pinched expression on his face. His hands were brought up, hovering near Simon but not quite touching him.

“Yuta,” Simon said, voice barely a croak.

Nahyuta’s breath hitched. “Simon,” he said, “Simon, I’m so sorry.” He looked on the verge of tears.

Simon said nothing. Nahyuta took a deep breath, sniffling softly. He wiped at his eyes, then looked back at Simon with renewed determination. 

“Can you stand?” He asked.

Simon tentatively leaned forward, testing if his legs could hold the weight. They could, albeit shakily, but he was able to slowly clamber to his feet. Nahyuta continued to hover for a moment before stepping forward and pulling one of Simon’s arms carefully over his shoulders. He paused, as if waiting for Simon to push him away. He did not, and Nahyuta began moving them forward. Simon made no protest.

As they walked slowly out of the prison, Simon let himself lean heavily on the monk’s surprisingly sturdy frame. Nahyuta stayed close, constant and steady, as they exited the building and climbed into the waiting helicopter. Once they were seated inside, Nahyuta made to move away, but was stopped by Simon’s hand gripping his shoulder. Nahyuta’s responding expression was uncertain, but he stayed by Simon’s side for the rest of the journey. At some point, Simon found himself drifting into blackness, the adrenaline and stress of the day taking its toll.

When Simon regained his faculties, he found himself laying down in the palace’s guest quarters, which he’d been staying for the duration of the trip. He groaned softly, trying to sit up.

As he did so, he became aware of another weight next to him on the bed. Looking up, Simon found Nahyuta perched on the edge of the bed, looking down at him with concern.

“I’m sorry,” Simon said, the words tumbling out before he could think him through.

Nahyuta’s expression became confused. “For what?” he asked.

“For pushing you away,” Simon murmured. “Didn’t mean to. Knew it’d hurt you. Are you okay?”

“Simon,” Nahyuta said, sighing. “I appreciate that, but that’s not really my primary concern right now. We can talk about it later. Are you okay?”

“‘M fine,” Simon said. 

“No, you aren’t.” Nahyuta replied. “Fuck, Simon, I’m so sorry. I have no idea how that happened, but it shouldn’t have. I know this has been hard enough for you already, and I know you’ve been struggling, and now…” he trailed off, voice breaking. “Now I’ve let this happen.”

It was Simon’s turn to sigh. He sat up, blinking the last remnants of sleep from his eyes. He fixed Nahyuta with an intense stare.

“Nahyuta. This wasn’t your fault. And I’m fine, really. A bit shaken up, sure, but no lasting damage.” He reached out, putting one hand carefully on Nahyuta’s knee. “I chose to be here. I knew what I was signing up for.”

“But you shouldn’t have to—“

“No one should have to, Sad Monk. That’s the point. What happened to me happens to those inmates every day,” Simon said. “That’s what we’re working to stop.”

Nahyuta looked away, his fingers worrying up and down his ever-present, but uncharacteristically disheveled braid. 

“That doesn’t make it okay for you to sacrifice your own wellbeing,” he said eventually. “You’re always telling me that I don’t deserve to hurt myself, but neither do you!”

Nahyuta looked up, eyes full of tears. “Can’t you see how much pain you’re in? This— this isn’t even your problem to solve, Simon! I can’t stand by and watch you constantly re-traumatize yourself for the sake of others. You wouldn’t let me relive my days under Ga’ran, so why are you making yourself relive prison?”

He let out a shaken breath. “I know I have no right to pry and you have no obligation to let me in. But I do not want you to hurt yourself like this. Please.”

“Okay,” Simon said softly. “Okay. I— hadn’t thought of it that way. But you’re right, aren’t you? I’ve been a bit of a hypocrite.”

“So… you’ll stop?”

Simon paused. “Not entirely. I still want to stay and help you. But I won’t make myself do prison visits. That’s… I hate to admit it, but those are too much for me to handle. Today was evidence enough of that.”

Nahyuta nodded slowly, processing Simon’s words. “Okay,” he said, “I can live with that.”

Nahyuta began to stand, intending to leave, but was stopped by Simon’s hand tightened around his knee.

“Nahyuta,” Simon said. “I’m sorry.”

Nahyuta turned back to him. “You don’t have to—“

“No, I do,” Simon said, shaking his head. “That morning, you were only trying to help. I do want to let you in, Nahyuta. It’s just… difficult.”

Nahyuta looked at him quizzically. 

“I have a hard time trusting people, alright? Especially after the Phantom, I… that was what my nightmare was about. Being betrayed. Being unable to stop myself from trusting the wrong person. I know you aren’t him, but waking up from that, I was terrified. I didn’t want to trust anyone. That’s why I pushed you away.”

“I see.” Nahyuta said, fingers returning to pick at his braid.

“Hey,” Simon leaned forward, gently taking Nahyuta’s hands in his and pulling them from their path of plait destruction. “I didn’t mean what I said. I know it’s hard for you to open up to, and I’m so proud of you for doing what I haven’t been able to. Please don’t let me ruin that.”

Nahyuta was silent for a long moment.

“I was so mad at you,” he said, looking away. “I blamed myself for pushing too hard, for oversharing and burdening you.”

“Nahyuta,” Simon released one of his hands, his palm coming up to cup Nahyuta’s cheek instead. “You have not been, nor will you ever be, a burden. Not to me.”

Nahyuta laughed wetly. “Are you certain?”

“Absolutely. And I’m so, so sorry that my actions made you feel that way,” Simon said softly. “You don’t have to forgive me—“

“I forgive you,” Nahyuta said. “Of course I do. And I’m sorry I shut you out instead of letting you explain. Can you forgive me?”

“Yes, darling, of course,” Simon said. “In a heartbeat.”

Nahyuta smiled in relief, then gave him a look, raising one eyebrow. “Darling?”

“Oh, sod off, I’m trying to be serious here.” Simon scowled.

Nahyuta laughed. “I know. I just missed making fun of your word choice.”

“Oh, so that’s why you keep me around.”

“Yes,” Nahyuta replied, leaning forward so he could press their foreheads gently together. “Among other things.”

Simon laughed, a little wetly. Nahyuta pulled back slightly, surprised by the noise.

“My dear panda, are you crying?” he asked.

“No,” Simon said, a tear rolling down his cheek. “S’ raining.”

“We’re indoors.”

“Well isn’t the weather here just bloody phenomenal.” Simon retorted.

Nahyuta laughed, bringing his hands up to gently wipe away the wet streaks on Simon’s face. “I do not mean to make fun of you. I am merely surprised at the timing of such a thing.”

Simon sighed. “Is it so hard to believe I simply missed you?”

“It is, given I’ve not gone anywhere.”

“The real you,” Simon murmured. “I thought I’d lost you.”

“Perhaps for a time” Nahyuta said, “but I’m here now. And I do not plan on going anywhere.”

“Good.” Simon nodded resolutely. 

Nahyuta smiled, leaning in to press a soft kiss against Simon’s lips. He returned it in earnest, chaste and sweet.

“Will you hold me?” Nahyuta asked as he pulled back, so quietly that Simon nearly failed to register it.

Simon laughed and nodded, amused by the sudden shyness. Nahyuta rolled his eyes yet wasted no time in clambering into the bed, tucking himself close to Simon’s side.

Simon wound his arms around him as he buried his face in the crook of Simon’s neck. He reached around, carefully pulling the clasp off Nahyuta’s braid and setting it on the bedside table. Then, he gently pulled the plait apart, running his fingers through the lilac strands until they hung loosely against Nahyuta’s back. Nahyuta hummed appreciatively as Simon pressed a kiss to his forehead.

Together, they rested.

Chapter Text

After that, Simon stopped accompanying Nahyuta to the penitentiaries.

He remained just as involved in the reforms, only from a distance. He took the lead on speaking with exonerees, traveling around the city with Gulati to visit them. Inmates who volunteered for interviews or focus groups would be transported to the Ministry of Justice rather than set up in a visitor’s room. Simon met with dozens of them, and with the help of a translator, learned about their struggles.

It was hard work. Even without the physical presence of a jail cell, Simon still felt the lingering effects of the institution. 

To his surprise, Simon actually ended up befriending a number of the exonerees. Over their months of work— and with the help of a language tutor provided by Nahyuta— he’d managed to pick up enough Khura’inese to hold basic conversations without the help of a translator. Without the awkwardness of a third party between them, Simon found himself more willing to open up about his own experiences. Many of the exonerees paid him back in kind.

Nahyuta, meanwhile, was working on developing solutions, as intuited from Simon’s insights. He worked with Rayfa to restructure the Ministry’s budget to include a reparation fund which provided base monthly payments, as well as vouchers for housing and other necessities. 

They brought in other government ministries to develop joint programs, such as an apprenticeship program with the Ministry of Labor that provided tax incentives for businesses that trained exonerees. Similar breaks were also given to businesses which hired exonerees. The Ministry of Finance launched a new program of low-interest loans for the previously incarcerated, helping provide seed money for exonerees who wished to start their own businesses or develop community services, or otherwise needed funds to secure stable housing or the like.

Over time, Nahyuta felt the knot in his chest begin to loosen. While none of the exonerees were particularly friendly towards him, he did sense a begrudging respect emanating from them. Over time, familiar faces became less gaunt, and the exoneree’s neighborhood grew tidier and livelier thanks to the services of newly minted carpenters and workmen. 

Yet no matter how much progress Nahyuta saw, he never felt that his work was anywhere near done. There were always more people to reach; more mistakes to atone for; more wrongs to right. The claws of his aunt had dug deep into this country, and digging them out would take time.

JANUARY 20 ^TH , 12:00 PM

KHURA’INESE ROYAL PALACE

Months passed. Both of them worked hard at their respective tasks, and things improved slowly but surely. Simon made the occasional trip back to LA to visit Athena and his sister, but Nahyuta never wanted to accompany him. At first, Simon chalked it up to a simple feeling of obligation; that his partner was too busy to make time for such a thing. But as the reforms swept over the country and began to take on lives of their own, Nahyuta still seemed reluctant to return.

Simon supposed there wasn’t much for Nahyuta left in LA. Excluding himself, which was a generous allowance in the first place, the only person Nahyuta had a connection to was Apollo, who visited Khura’in of his own accord with some frequency. It was a very long flight, after all; Simon himself hated the journey, though he had grown more comfortable in airplanes over time. He’d be lying, though, if he said he didn’t think the journey would be smoother if he had company.

He never pushed the issue, though. If Nahyuta did not want to return to the states, Simon was hardly going to force him. He attempted to brooch the issue once or twice, but was each time met with a firm, though gentle, dismissal. It confused Simon, but he didn’t find it to be of particular concern.

That was, until Rayfa intervened. 

Simon’s relationship with Rayfa was… strained, to say the least. They were not actively hostile towards each other, and Simon didn’t hold the knife incident against her, but they didn’t exactly get along. Rayfa was suspicious of Simon because of his relationship with her sibling. She found him rather common, which she expressed loudly and frequently, and considered him unworthy of the attentions of a royal. 

Simon, meanwhile, was hardly interested in gaining the favor of some princess. He respected her work, but he’d never been one to grovel. So what if his partner’s sister didn’t like him? It wasn’t as if she’d ever come between their relationship. He saw no reason to prove himself to her, and was unconcerned by her lack of approval. As far as he saw it, their relationship was none of her damn business.

Because of this, Simon rarely saw Rayfa outside of meetings or the occasion meal. He’d certainly never known her to seek him out, which is why he nearly jumped out of his own skin when he found her sitting outside the door to his chambers one evening, her small arms crossed defiantly across her chest and a scowl on her lips.

“Colleague,” she said, referring to Simon the way she always did, “we need to talk.”

“What could we possibly have to talk about?” Simon asked, his brows narrowing. 

“My sibling, obviously,” Rayfa retorted. “I want to know why you aren’t taking him home with you.”

“Home with me?” Simon echoed, caught off guard by the statement. 

“Yes, home with you.” Rayfa repeated. “You return to LA and my sibling does not. Why?”

“I suspect that is a question for him more so than one for me, no?”

Rayfa shook her head firmly. “I’ve already asked him, and he’s dodged my questions in that artful way of his. I’m only speaking to you because I have to.”

“Well, Princess, I hate to disappoint, but I don’t know any more than you do concerning that matter.”

Simon smothered a grin as a muscle in Rayfa’s jaw twitched. He knew she hated being referred to as Princess; technically, she was the queen now, and Simon could probably get in a lot of trouble for disrespecting her, but she’d never called him on it, so he’d never stopped.

Rayfa closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. After she exhaled, she opened her eyes and looked fiercely into Simon’s.

“Simon Blackquill, my sibling is miserable in this country. Utterly miserable. He hates it here and though that breaks my heart I cannot blame him. All he sees are reminders of the worst things he has ever done. Yet he forces himself to stay here, because he thinks he owes this country a debt. And perhaps he did. But I am of the opinion that he has paid that debt, and the suffering he now puts himself through is unnecessary. Do you understand?”

Simon stared at her, speechless. He’d never considered that Nahyuta might hate living in Khura’in. Sure, he knew of all the horrible things that had happened here— but he’d also heard of how much Nahyuta loved his country, how much it meant to him. He hadn’t expected this.

Simon cleared his throat and gave a curt nod. “I understand.”

“And do you understand why I am speaking of this to you?”

Simon nodded again.

“Good,” Rayfa said. “I expect things shall be changing very soon, then. Do not disappoint me.”

With that, she turned and stalked down the hallway, leaving a stunned Simon alone with his thoughts.

JANUARY 20 ^TH , 8:30 PM

KHURA’INESE ROYAL PALACE - GUEST WING

Later that evening, Nahyuta came to Simon’s room. This was not unusual— though the two maintained separate rooms as they each valued their own space, they often spent the night together. 

Simon watched Nahyuta carefully as he went about his usual nighttime routine. He washed his face; cleaned his teeth; brushed and combed his long, silky hair. The bags under his eyes were dark, as they always seemed to be. He looked tired, but managed a weak smile as he crawled into bed next to Simon.

“Hello, Panda,” he said, curling up against Simon’s side. “You’re awfully quiet this evening.”

“I’m always quiet,” Simon replied, one hand coming to wrap around Nahyuta’s slim waist.

“Mm, perhaps. But not this sort of quiet. You do not think I have not noticed you observing me more than usual?” Nahyuta asked, lifting his head from Simon’s chest to look him in the eye. 

Simon huffed out a breath, shaking his head slightly. “I should have known you would notice, darling.”

“Yes, you should have. What is it?” Nahyuta asked, head tilting to one side curiously.

Simon considered him for a long moment before speaking again. 

“Do you like living here, Nahyuta?” he asked.

“Of course I do,” Nahyuta responded, frowning. “It is my home.”

“Perhaps. But it is possible to dislike one’s home, is it not?”

“I… suppose,” Nahyuta said, brow furrowing. “What’s brought this on? Do you dislike it here?”

Simon shook his head. “No, I like it fine. But your sister seems to think you don’t.”

“Rayfa?”

“Yes. So much so that she found it prudent to speak to me of all people about it.”

“Well, I— I’m not sure why she thinks that,” Nahyuta said. “I belong here.”

“But do you want to be here?” Simon pressed. “Forget your obligations. Those aside, would you want to be here?”

Nahyuta shook his head slowly. “I… I cannot set those aside, Simon, you know that.”

“You don’t like it, do you,” Simon said softly, realization dawning. “You stay out of a sense of duty.”

“So what if I do?” Nahyuta asked. “What I want hardly matters in the greater scheme of things.”

Simon sat up, dislodging Nahyuta from his place on his chest. He turned, grasping Nahyuta by the shoulders and bring their faces into alignment.

“Nahyuta,” he breathed, “of course it matters.”

“I know that,” Nahyuta replied, pushing away. “I didn’t mean it like that. I only meant that what I want is not as important as what is needed.”

“And what is needed?”

“Atonement,” Nahyuta said, “for my sins.”

“Do you not think you have already achieved that?” Simon countered.

Nahyuta shook his head. “No. I’ve barely scratched the surface.”

“Of what your aunt did, maybe. But what about what you did?”

“What… what I did?” Nahyuta asked.

“Well, maybe there’s something I don’t know about,” Simon said, “but from where I’m standing, you’ve done a whole hell of a lot of good for the people your wronged, and for the families of those who were executed. And I think shouldering the burden of everything your aunt did is unfair. You were complicit, sure. But you were also coerced.”

“So, what, I’m free to go now that I’ve done a few good deeds?” Nahyuta said, his tone growing sharper.

“No. I don’t think you’ll ever be truly free, Nahyuta. You’ll carry this around for the rest of your life.” Simon said. “But that doesn’t mean you have to suffer every day for it.”

“I’m not—”

“Come on, Nahyuta, it’s obvious. I can’t believe I didn’t see it before your sister pointed it out to me. This country, this palace— its where the worst parts of your life took place. You’re constantly surrounded by reminders of the person you used to be, and the person that used to control you.”

He sighed, scooting closer to Nahyuta on the bed. “We agreed that it wasn’t fair of me to force myself to work inside jails that remind me of my darkest days. So why is it fair for you to work inside yours?”

Nahyuta remained silent on the bed next to him. Taking a deep breath, Simon continued.

“You’ve redeemed yourself, my love. You’ve put in motion a system that is working to right your wrongs. It doesn’t need your full-time attention anymore, or your full-time presence. You don’t have to stay here if it hurts. You don’t deserve to be hurt any more than you already have been.”

A long moment of silence passed between the two of them before Nahyuta spoke.

“I… hadn’t thought about it like that,” he said hoarsely. “I mean, I came here to redeem myself and help the people I’d hurt but… I never really thought there’d be an end to it. Being here is my atonement.”

“Yes,” Simon said, “and you’ve been here for over a year. You’ve done what you need to. The programs you set up will keep on running without you. Stay if that’s truly what you want, but I think it’s high time you finally forgave yourself for all of this.”

“Alright.” Nahyuta said. “And what about you?”

Simon’s eyes widened with surprise. “Me?”

“Yes, you.” Nahyuta said. “Perhaps you don’t visit the prisons any longer, but you still spend your days working on reforming them. Is that not, in its own way, doing the same thing?”

“I— this isn’t about me, Sad Monk.”

“Why not? Look, I’ll admit that there’s some truth to your words. Maybe it is time I forgive myself. But I think by that logic, it’s time for you to forgive yourself to.”

“Forgive myself for what?”

“For everything, Simon. For what happened because of your lie; for all the things that the Phantom did. I don’t think you like working on prison reform any more than I do. You just feel obligated to do it as repentance. Repentance that reminds you of your darkest days, as you put it. How are your actions any different?”

Simon was silent for a moment. Nahyuta sighed, winding his arms around his neck.

“Panda. You’re so good at keeping me honest, at calling out my bad habits and the little ways that I punish myself. I think it’s time for me to do the same for you. If I don’t deserve it, then neither do you, my love. Do you not agree?”

“That’s… very sneaky of you, Sad Monk. Turning things around on me. I don’t think it’s exactly the same, but… your words have some truth to them. Perhaps we are both acting out of a guilty conscience.”

“And perhaps you have some forgiving to do, too. You aren’t responsible for what the Phantom did while you were incarcerated, Simon. I know you know that.”

An unexpected swell of emotion surged through Simon’s body, his throat restricting. 

“Yeah,” he managed in a choked voice. “Maybe.”

“So… then where do we go from here?” Nahyuta asked.

“Home,” Simon replied. “Come home with me, Nahyuta. Let’s go back to our apartment in LA, to our weird friends and weirder colleagues. We can keep on doing this work, but we won’t dedicate our entire lives to it.”

Nahyuta paused, considering this for a moment. Then, he began to nod slowly. “We’ll move on,” he said, simply.

Simon nodded. 

“Yes,” he said. “Together.”

Chapter Text

APRIL 5 ^TH , 12:00 PM

LOS ANGELES INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT, TERMINAL ONE

Three months later, Nahyuta and Simon found themselves standing out in the blazing heat of LA, suitcases in hand and a car on the way. 

It had taken a bit of time for them to arrange things prior to their exit. Nahyuta had worked out a fair division of his duties and slowly transitioned them to Minister Nayar, Rayfa, and the newly-minted Minister Gulati of the Reparations and Rebuilding department. He would remain a part of the Khura’inian administration, but his work would be done remotely for the majority of the year. He would return twice a year to assist in evaluating progress, but would otherwise be free to live wherever he chose. To the surprise of no one, he chose LA. 

Simon, meanwhile, had done his part and was stepping away from the Khura’inian reforms. He would return to focusing full-time on his prosecution work in America. The LA Prosecutor’s Department, and the eternally over-worked Miles Edgeworth, were very happy to welcome both of them back.

“I suppose I could find a spot for you,” he’d said stiffly over the phone when Simon had called to notify the chief prosecutor of their impending return. In the background, Simon heard a loud guffaw. Then, there was a muffled sound as if the phone had been snatched by someone else, and a voice that sounded suspiciously like Phoenix Wright’s cut in.

“That’s Miles-speak for ‘Yes, please, come back I am desperate for competent prosecutors’,” he said. “And me-speak for ‘please I am begging you to come back’. There’s only so many cases he can carry for Prosecutor Debeste and I would like to have some quality alone time back with my husband, we haven’t had s—”

Another muffled clunk came over the phone line. 

“Yes, alright, very well,” came Miles Edgeworth’s slightly harried voice. “When can we expect you?”

Simon had guffawed for a solid minute before informing him that he and Nahyuta would be back within the month. Then, he hung up and relayed the story to Nahyuta, who’d nearly spit out his tea.

Now, two weeks later, here they were, fresh off the flight from Khura’in, both exhausted and nursing various cramps from the long journey. Nahyuta slumped against Simon’s shoulder with a sigh.

“Where is that brother of mine?” he griped. “I told him the flight got in at noon, and he of all people should know how exhausted we’d both be.”

Simon shrugged, dislodging Nahyuta from his shoulder. “I told you we could have asked Athena,” he said. “She may have many flaws, but lack of punctuality is not one of them.”

“And driving like a maniac is,” Nahyuta countered. “Besides, Apollo is rarely ever late. This is most out of character.”

Simon, who’d more than once had to wait behind the bench for a disheveled Apollo to appear with purple lipstick stains on his collar, said nothing.

A moment later, a sleek purple sports car pulled up in front of them. Simon stifled a laugh as the car began to whir, the top pulling up and back to reveal one relaxed-looking Klavier Gavin and one sheepishly grinning Apollo Justice.

Next to him, Nahyuta raised an eyebrow. 

“I don’t recall asking your boyfriend to pick us up, dear brother,” he said.

Apollo looked at him for a moment in astonishment.

“Nahyuta,” he said, “I don’t own a fucking car. I can’t drive. How did you think I was going to pick you up?”

Nahyuta paused, his mouth hanging open slightly. Simon lost the battle with his composure and let out a loud guffaw. Nahyuta rounded on him.

“You knew this would happen!” he said accusatorially. “You utter imbecile!”

Simon laughed harder.

“I told you—” he huffed out, “— that we should have asked Athena!”

Nahyuta threw his hands up in the air.

“I cannot believe any of you. You all conspire against me, and for what?”

“The pure joy of it,” Apollo said flatly.

Nahyuta turned around. “I’m going back to Khura’in,” he said. 

Simon forced himself to stop laughing, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. He spun around and caught Nahyuta by the shoulder, pulling him into an embrace.

“Come on, love, we’re only teasing.”

Nahyuta harrumphed into the side of his neck.

“Nice to see you too, Herr Sad Monk,” Klavier chimed in with a grin. “And you, Herr Samurai.”

“Just get in the car,” Apollo said. “You’re being more dramatic than Klavier, and that’s saying something.”

Simon squeezed Nahyuta briefly before pulling back and nudging him in the direction of the car.

“Come on,” he said. “Let’s go. You can nap as soon as we get in, I promise.”

Nahyuta rolled his eyes one more time for good measure, then picked up his suitcases and began to load them in the car. The two of them climbed into the back seat of Klavier’s convertible, which was surprisingly roomy, even for the two tall prosecutors.

As Klavier peeled away from the airport, Apollo turned around in his seat to face them.

“Back to your place, I assume?” he asked.

Simon and Nahyuta nodded simultaneously.

“Back home,” they said, and neither had ever meant it more.

Chapter Text

Twenty years later

JUNE ^1ST , 8:00 AM

BLACKQUILL AND SAHDMADHI RESIDENCE

“Happy birthday, my love.”

Simon let out a groan. “Five more minutes,” he grumbled, rolling over onto his back. 

A bubbly laugh erupted next to him.

“Fifty years old and you’re still as petulant as a child in the morning,” Nahyuta said, poking him on the shoulder.

Simon grunted, but cracked open one eye in response. Next to him, his partner sat on the edge of the bed, clad in a white dressing gown and holding a small tray. On the tray was a tiny cake topped with flickering candles.

“S’too early for cake,” he mumbled.

Nahyuta laughed again. “No, it’s not,” he said. “Simon, I’ve seen you eat sugary nonsense for breakfast more times than I can count. There’s no point in denying your sweet tooth to me.”

Simon sighed, blinking open both eyes now. “I suppose not.”

He sat up, scooting back on the bed so he could prop himself up against the headboard. Nahyuta moved with him, tray in hand. 

Simon smiled slightly, taking a moment to admire the scene before him. Nahyuta’s silvery-purple hair was short, tucked behind his ears and just brushing the his jawbone. He’d cut it many years ago, citing the time-consuming nature of caring for the longer locks. 

“It’s thinning out, anyways,” he said. “I’m too old to bother.”

His hair had been as thick and gorgeous as always, but Simon had simply nodded and accompanied him to the hair salon. The stylist, who’d been Nahyuta’s go-to for many years, looked horrified at the very suggestion, but had complied. In the end, the shorter hair suited him. Nahyuta had marveled for weeks over how light he felt; he’d maintained the heavy braid since childhood, and the newfound freedom was unexpectedly sweet.

Simon’s own curls were long and unruly as ever, though now he had more grey hairs than black. He brushed a few back from his face, smiling at his partner.

Nahyuta held up the tray. “It’s going to be covered in wax if you wait any longer,” he said.

“Well, we can’t have that, now can we,” Simon said, leaning forward to blow out the five- and zero-shaped candles. Once they were extinguished, he leaned forward through the smoke and kissed Nahyuta gently on the lips.

Nahyuta wrinkled his nose. “Your morning breath is terrible,” he said.

Simon gasped in mock offense. “You would slander me,” he said, one hand coming up to his chest, “on this day of my birth?”

“Would you prefer I lied to you?”

Simon considered this for a moment. 

“No,” he said, leaning forward again to kiss Nahyuta pointedly on the cheek. “I know your love language is bullying.”

Nahyuta laughed again, snorting a bit. “Only for you, my love,” he said, kissing him on the lips. “Now eat your breakfast.”

Simon glanced down at the cake.

“It’s got wax all over it,” he said. “I can’t eat that.”

“That is entirely your fault and you know it.”

Simon gave an exaggerated sigh and made a show of carefully picking off the dried bits of candle from the top of the cake. 

“And on my birthday,” Simon shook his head. 

Nahyuta rolled his eyes, swiped up a bit of icing with one index finger, and deposited it squarely on his partner’s nose.

“You’re going to regret that, Sad Monk.”

“Hm, will I?”

“I should think so, yes.”

“… Try me.”

Twenty minutes later, Simon and Nahyuta stood in their laundry room, a load of frosting-stained sheets freshly deposited into their washing machine. Simon’s curls, freshly washed of cake crumbs and buttercream, hung damp around his shoulders, turning his white t-shirt translucent. Nahyuta, miraculously spotless, was smirking.

“One of these days, Simon, you’re going to accept that I have combat training and you don’t,” he said breezily. 

“This is elder abuse,” Simon deadpanned.

“Fifty is hardly elderly, you nitwit.”

“Tell that to my aching back.”

“You’ve had back problems since you were twenty,” Nahyuta slammed the washer’s lid shut. “And you’ve been using that line for just as long. The effect has rather worn off.”

Simon sighed wistfully. “Oh, to be a young and ignorant forty-something. I remember it like it was yesterday,” he said.

“It was yesterday.” 

“Ah,” Simon cocked his head to one side and shot his partner a grin. “That explains it, then.”

“Unbelievable,” Nahyuta closed his eyes, bringing his hands up to rub at his temples as if fighting off a headache. He turned away from the washing machine. “Alright, come on. Actual breakfast is in the kitchen. I figured we weren’t actually going to eat a crumb of that cake.”

As Simon’s laugghter followed him all the way down the corridor, Nahyuta fought back a smile.

JUNE ^1ST , 1:00 PM

GAVIN AND JUSTICE HOUSEHOLD - BACKYARD

“Amara!” 

Apollo’s signature Chords of Steel, undiminished by age, rang across the yard.

“Oh shush, Apollo, she’s fine,” Nahyuta said, leaning back in his reclining chair and adjusting his sunglasses. “You’re ruining the atmosphere.”

In the chair next to him, Simon harrumphed in agreement, before turning his attention back to applying sunscreen to his vampire-pale skin.

Nahyuta’s brother, seated at the large outdoor dining table looked over at him with a glower. “If there was an easier way to get her to listen to me—”

“Oh my god, Dad, you’re so embarrassing.” Amara said, approaching their table. When she spotted Nahyuta and Simon, her face brightened. 

“Yuta! Simon! You’re here!” she exclaimed, running around the table to hug both of them.

“What am I, chopped liver?” Apollo muttered.

“No, Dad, you’re just boring.” Amara said, tucking a strand of her deep brown hair behind one ear.

Nahyuta smiled up at the girl standing next to him. Despite having just turned sixteen, she was still short— something she likely inherited from Apollo. She was stocky and sturdy with a very sharp tongue. In sum, she was an absolute joy.

Nahyuta was far from the only member of their family to think so. Amara was doted on by the masses— as the only granddaughter of the former queen of Khura’in, not to mention the bearer of her name, she was cherished by family members and friends around the world.

Amara — senior, that is— had finally accepted that she wasn’t going to get any grandchildren out of her biological kids, so she’d stepped into the role of grandmother for Apollo’s. Rayfa, the reigning Queen of Khura’in, had staunchly refused to get married, and even more vehemently refused to procreate. She was of the opinion that the Royal Line ought to come to an end, and frankly, Nahyuta agreed with her. Amara wasn’t happy about it, but there wasn’t much she could do.

She’d tried to persuade Nahyuta and Simon to adopt as Apollo and Klavier had for a while, but had eventually given up. Neither of them ever wanted children; they hadn’t even wanted to get married. It just wasn’t their style. Simon and Nahyuta were perfectly happy in their partnership and their home— they didn’t need governmental recognition or offspring to make their family unit complete. Besides, their home was full of rescued birds of prey, courtesy of Simon in honor of Taka after her passing years before. Those birds were his children— he didn’t need human ones getting in the way.

Both Simon and Nahyuta loved being a part of Amara Jr.’s life. She was incredibly bright, and a gentle soul besides. Despite not being a part of the royal line by blood, she’d managed to inherit the Sahdmadhi touch for affinity with animals— all of Simon’s birds adored her, once they’d managed to convince Apollo that she was old enough to be around them safely. 

They were a strange little family unit— two partnered prosecutors, a defense attorney and his former-prosecutor turned full-time stay-at-home parent partner, two queens on the other side of the world, and one incredible teenage girl who was well on her way to becoming an incredible young woman. Plus a pair of lesbian aunts, whenever Juniper and Athena found themselves in LA. Athena had become an international prosecutor years ago, and she and Juniper travelled around the world, first to practice law, and then to teach it. They brought Amara gifts from around the world every time they stopped by, and she adored them just as much as they did her.

It was the sort of family Nahyuta had never believed he’d be a part of. Once he’d lost Apollo and Dhurke, he’d lost hope. He’d grown up with Ga’ran towering over him, his only other family a sister whom he was forced to keep at arm’s length in order to ensure her own protection. He’d resigned himself to what was, by all indications, to be a brief and lonely life. 

How very wrong he was.

As he sat by the table in the backyard of Apollo and Klavier’s home, Nahyuta felt a familiar gratitude swelling inside. He never thought he’d get to live a long, full life like the one he had now, much less one filled with so many amazing and loving people, yet here he was. It was a feeling whose power never faded, no matter how much time passed.

Nahyuta’s gaze drifted to Simon, who was begrudgingly accepting a very enthusiastic hug from Amara. He grumbled about it, but the whole family knew he adored her just as much as the rest of them. Nahyuta caught his eye and gave him a stern look; Simon stuck his tongue out at him.

Later, back at home, Nahyuta would ruminate on the trajectory of their relationship. He’d give Simon the handmade scrapbook he’d been working on for months which chronicled the happier years of their life. He’d hold him close while he paged slowly through it, eyes beginning to water as he watched them grow together.

And as Simon berated him for making him cry on his birthday, Nahyuta would simply smile and thank his lucky stars that all those years ago, this was the man who’d been his last resort.