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It’s probably a strange feeling to know the day you’re going to die. Simon isn’t too sure, he’s known for so long that he’s a bit desensitized. Now that the day of reckoning has finally come, he can’t say anything feels any different. His life has been largely the same for the past seven years; the only difference now is that he won’t be waking up tomorrow.
Though he must admit, spending his last few months on this earth prosecuting is a nice way to put an end to it all. He’s still not sure why exactly the chief prosecutor allowed him to in the first place.
Simon remembers when Edgeworth came to visit him. The man looked surprisingly at home in a prison, and didn't even bat an eye at Taka. Simply scratched under her chin and made a punchy comment about someone named Roland; the guard in the corner choking down a laugh at it. There’s plenty of reasons the new chief prosecutor would reinstate him. An attempt to salvage the reputation of the office, maybe. Phoenix Wright’s name has been cleared, it only makes sense that more steps would be taken to try and end the Dark Age of the Law. Pity, maybe, but Edgeworth doesn’t seem the type to extend kindness to criminals.
The paranoid of him worries that the chief has it all figured out. Miles Edgeworth isn’t stupid by any defintion of the word: he could’ve reinstated Simon to keep an eye on him, because he knew that he wasn’t really a criminal. Not much is left to learn from the seven-year-old case file, but with two of the most important figures in the same place at the same time… Athena’s eighteen now, she’ll be tried as an adult even though UR-1 happened seven years ago. She likely would’ve been tried as an adult back then— it’s why he had to do what he did.
The more rational part of his brain fights back. There’s something more personal at stake for Edgeworth, he’s sure of it. As a professional he’s hesitant to jump to conclusions, as an inmate he hungers for it. Every little thing; the way he speaks, the strange jacket framed on the wall of his office, the way he clutches at his elbow when deep in thought, the avoidance of elevators. It all speaks to something larger.
So maybe Edgeworth is onto him. Probably not. He hopes not. Because today is the deadline for any turnabouts in this case that really matter; anything after this Simon doesn’t really need to worry about. Still, he prays that this is all left alone after his death, he doesn’t need Athena getting punished for this after all he’s been through to keep her safe. Simon’s seen a lot of different inmates through the years. Some left because their sentences came to an end or were overturned, others because their execution dates caught up to them. Either way, he doesn’t think anyone’s ever been as calm as he has.
“You’ve got a visitor,” a guard calls. Simon says nothing. “Come on, don’t make this any harder than it has to be.”
He sighs, but stands and follows the guard anyway. It’s not a surprise to see Athena on the other side of the glass, but he debates turning around anyway— this is the last thing he wants to do right now.
“Don’t you dare leave.” Athena stares him down, her jaw tight. “You can’t run away from me anymore, Simon.”
She’s right, in a way. Stubbornness runs in her blood, he’s surprised that she didn’t come back into his life even earlier than she did. He sighs and takes a seat, suddenly struck with just how small she looks. Athena’s grown since she was eleven, but not much; even sitting down Simon towers over her.
“Why are you here?” he asks, voice dull.
“You know why.” Athena’s eyes are filled with fiery determination. “You didn’t do it and this is your last chance to admit the truth.”
This again. Simon scoffs and rolls his eyes. “But I did. Shouldn’t you hate me? I killed your mother and ruined your life. You should be celebrating today.”
“Maybe I should hate you, but I don’t and there’s a reason for that. I’m sure of it.”
“It’s because you’re blinded by your delusions of grandeur. I’m not the same person I was seven years ago.” That much is true, at least. He hates lying to her.
“I’m not the same person either, now I can help you— really help you. Back then I knew you were innocent. I saw something, I know I did-”
He remembers a trembling Athena on the witness stand, shrinking under the gaze of everyone in the room. “We see how well that turned out.”
She lets out a groan of frustration, but stays seated. Simon wishes she would just leave already. “Goddammit Simon, do you want to die here?”
“It’s not like there’s much I can do about it anymore.”
“We can get it overturned-”
“In less than an hour? I doubt it.”
Athena swipes at her eyes, shoulders trembling with anger or sadness; he can’t quite tell which. He remembers when she was young, curled up into a ball with hands clamped over her ears to block out all the emotions. He used to comfort her, back then, when Metis wasn’t around. It’s okay though, she’s got Juniper and WAA, even Widget can help calm her down if she really needs it.
She doesn’t need him anymore, hasn’t needed him for a long time.
Before either of them can say anything, the door to the visitors room swings open and slams against the wall with a harsh sound that makes Athena wince, Widget going yellow on her neck. The guard already has a hand on his holster, but pauses when his radio crackles the information over.
“Get out, Princess,” Aura snarls, glaring down at Athena. She looks like she’s come straight from her lab, hair matted and machine oil smeared on her cheek.
Athena bristles, rising up out of her chair. “You can’t tell me what to-”
“He was my brother before he was yours— get out before I do something I’ll regret.”
Hesitantly, Athena exits the room, casting one last worried glance over her shoulder before pulling the door shut behind her. Aura doesn’t bother to sit, simply crossing her arms and glaring at her brother through the glass.
“I’d say it's good to see you, but it’s really not,” he jabs.
“Fuck you, Simon.” She sounds tired. Angry too, but she’s angry more often than not nowadays.
“Thanks.”
“No, really. Fuck you,” she spits, face twisting. “Fuck you and your stupid fucking savior complex-”
“It would be a martyr complex, actually.”
Aura groans, raking her hands through her hair in frustration. “This is exactly the shit I’m talking about— you’re too damn smart to be here.”
“Obviously not.”
“Don’t give me that. If, and I mean if you killed Metis, you would’ve gotten away with it. You’re not stupid enough to forget about the security cameras.”
She’s right, of course she is. Laughing at criminals for forgetting about cameras was one of his favorite things to do as a kid, curled up on the couch with Aura as the culprits quaked onscreen.
“Most murders are those of passion.” It’s a weak defense, but it’s not like that’s his job.
“We both know that you cared about Metis too much to kill her.”
It’s an argument they’ve had dozens of times before. Simon’s a little glad this’ll be the last time; he’s put his sister through enough. She deserves to move on from this, UR-1 took so much from everyone at the station, but her especially. Maybe he can convince her to move to the east coast, as his last request. He doubts it.
“I’m not the person you thought I was.”
“I fucking raised you, Simon. I know exactly who you are.”
He refuses to look her in the eye. Aura’s too damn smart for this, she’ll get him caught if he’s not careful and it’s been too long to let that happen. “So? I’ve changed.”
“You could never change that much; it’s why you treated that Woods girl the way you did. Barely even talked to her back then and you’re looking after her just like you are the brat.”
“I was doing my job.”
“Yeah. Sure.” Aura rolls her eyes. “God, I wish I could hate you.”
“Thanks.”
“No, really. It would make my life a hell of a lot easier.”
“After today, you won’t have to worry anymore.”
Aura lets out a choked sound at that, somewhere between a laugh and a scream. “Goddamnit. Why do I have to lose you again? I- you- it just isn’t fair. It isn’t right.”
He wants to smirk and laugh at her for getting so sentimental after so many years of anger, but he can’t bring himself to. Some part of him aches to see his big sister like this; she was always so strong. The only time he can remember her crying like this was when he was little. Their father did… something. He was too young to know what and Aura never told him.
“I don’t know what else to tell you.”
“I know.” She exhales, long and low and heavy. “I know Simon, I know.”