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“Do you think Daddy is still waiting for us?” Trucy fretted, leaning against the window of Miles’s office to look back at the man. He was scanning through a book, his white cravat primed, even with her being the only one in the room. A dark red jacket fell around him, his face stoic as he read his case file.
Her arms felt heavy as she placed her chin on her hands and looked out the window. The twelfth floor of the district attorney's office offered a landscape of twinkling lights to the outside world. Los Angeles flooded her vision in the peak of the blind she held tentatively, blankets of lights covering her vision and down. Wailing emergency responders shot down the streets, red and white lights echoing between the staggeringly lit apartment buildings. When another shot through the blurring white and silver blurs along the road far beneath her, Trucy put back the blinds and sighed.
“Phoenix said that he’ll wait for us for dinner.” Miles grunted, “He’ll keep his word, I'll know that.”
“Of course,” Trucy grunted. Neither of them would doubt that for a second. “Daddy will wait for us.”
Right?
Edgeworth must have heard the uncertain tone, because he looked over at her, eyes narrowing, “What’s bothering you?
At Trucy’s silence, he turned, lowering the book. “Miss Trucy?”
“He’ll wait for us, right?” It had been so long. she knew that Daddy wouldn't desert them for dinner. He will wait for us.
“Of course, we won’t be that late.” he returned to this book, satisfied at the girl’s apparent absent-mindedness. “I just need to finish up this case, and find something that is similar to it.”
Trucy hummed uncertainty, but Miles didn’t press it. She could feel his eyes boring into her back, tracing the tensed shoulders and the ponytail falling onto her blue clothes, her cape wrapped around her neck loosely. Her loose blue jacket curled into her, combative against the stinging cold, but not protective from the doubt lingering in her mind.
“Are you thinking about your biological father?” he suddenly asked, putting down the book again. The lights briefly flickered, making Trucy look up. Am I that easy to read?
There wasn’t much for her to be worried about though, but the trace of sadness in her held body and the tension held in her tone. She was in sixth grade, and she didn’t have that much to worry about, after all - unless she hadn’t done her math homework yet. What else would she be worried about, so deep into winter break and in an office after hours?
Her dad's face flashed in her head, waving as they left for the office. He promised he would wait for dinner with them. She didn't usually doubt him, but his face, carefully concealing his lie that only Trucy could feel. Something had made him nervous, but he didn't bring any protest into their brief farewell.
It reminded her of her other father. Of course, Miles had noticed that.
“No,” she whispered, an obvious lie encompassing the room. It was weak and they both knew it, but the yells that the skittish bailiff had called flashed in her mind. In the crowd, legs kicking on the stairs in front of her in the gallery, the yells that her father had disappeared still lingered in her mind, wisps just at the corner of her mind.
“Phoenix won’t go on without us,” Miles said again, certainly in his tone making Trucy relax a bit. Miles said so, and he knew her dad better than anyone else, so she shouldn't doubt either of them for a second. “Don’t worry Miss Trucy, he won’t go on ahead.”
“Trucy.”
“Excuse me?”
“It’s just Trucy,” she whispered, smiling a bit at the man with raised eyebrows. She had only known him for about a year, a friend that her dad had introduced. She had sensed his lying, his skittish energy at the coffee shop they went to, and his wringing hands displaying more than just a general friend that he finally felt comfortable showing her to. He didn't usually reserve an entirely different hangout session from outside of the Borscht Bowl Club.
He was a friend, they couldn’t kid her. Even if she was a kid, she knew the fact that they shared a bed at times wasn’t exactly friend-like.
That the platonic threshold was crossed a bit more when they would talk for hours on the couch, low hushed whispers covered by the TV. She had peaked out of her room, blue pajamas rolled up to her sleeves as they talked together, Miles leaning his head into Daddy’s shoulder, the touch that she never saw in day-to-day life.
“Alright, Trucy.” he repeated, and Trucy could hear the tone of affection in it, “Are you sure you want to keep looking out of the window?”
“Well, what else is there to do?”
He pointed at chess, which she shook her head at, crossing her arms, “That’s chess, that’s boring.”
“Chess can help expand your mind with-”
“Something that isn’t lame.” She cut in. She thought she crossed a line for a second, at Miles’s quiet face, “I mean-”
“No worries, you just remind me of someone,” he said, shaking his head fondly.
What? Why would she remind Miles of someone he knew? Did he know another young girl with a snarky attitude and playful demeanor? Someone that was like Trucy in the sense of coming into his office just to be around him.
She came with him just for that. When his pacing finally had driven Phoenix up the wall, he confessed that he needed to think of the case he was currently prosecuting some more. The one book that he had glanced over he needed to pour over by the dying light of the attorney’s office.
Trucy had come with him, despite his grievances. She had claimed boredom, but Phoenix's smile of worry had disappeared when she did that. She may not know why, but she knew Daddy was a bit worried about Miles being alone - more than usual that is. Whether it was just because of driving in the dark or being alone, she knew the careful words her dad had been trying to hold back.
“Do you only have chess here?” she asked instead of the curiosity she wanted to dig into. She was a magician, after all, she knew how people could hold their secrets - and for good reason. “This isn’t very fun.”
“It’s my office, it’s not supposed to be suitable for kids,” Miles said, sighing and clearing out his desk. The neat lines of pens and papers along his desk were gently pressed out of the way as he set down the book, bringing up his computer. “If you’re so bored, then you can go explore.”
“I can?”
“You’re smart enough to find your way around. Just don’t get lost and come back in ten minutes.”
Ten minutes.
The prosecutor's office, after hours, was all open to her now. She was on the 12th floor, but with no one there, that meant free roaming, the stark shadow-filled hallways offering curiosity to the young girl.
“Don’t mess with anything,” Edgeworth looked up and met her eyes. “Promise me you’ll be careful.”
Trucy blinked. “Of course.”
What did he think would happen to her? She wouldn’t even be leaving the floor, just wandering the hallways and probably finding nothing. The curiosity of a working space alluring to the young girl probably shrouded in dark, hollowed-out offices.
It was better than staring out of the window though when Miles was clearly more focused on his book. Whatever it was for.
After a nod of confirmation, she slipped out, closing the door slowly, so as not to disturb Miles. The hallway beckoned to her, more of the same double doors copied and pasted down the hallway. She sighed, What else did I expect?
None of them were open, obviously. None of them peaked a whisper of someone on a phone call, or the snoring of someone caught sleeping on the job. Only the thick shadows blocked it up for her as she padded down, the only pool of light behind her with the dull light shining over Miles’s door.
Maybe this was a boring idea. She reflected, leaning against the wall. The prosecutor’s office wasn’t exactly made for kids, the stark imposing walls not exactly suited for curious middle school eyes. Door after door lined the hallway, reminiscence of classrooms filled with arguing prosecutors studying their case again and again.
She leaned against the wall, sighing. She came to keep Miles company, because for some reason the wintertime - or darkness, in general, brought him down, made him skittish and more withdrawn. She supposed it was more than just the wintertime, something more - something that had happened before that he was afraid of.
Is that music? Trucy looked down the hall, where it curved to the right. There was a hint of music, or high-pitched notes reverberating into her ears from down the hall. She glanced back, where Miles’s light in his office hadn’t moved.
He said ten minutes. It’s only been a few, so I should be able to investigate this.
Trucy slipped down the hallway, the music gradually turning louder as she wandered down. She turned and saw light streaming out one of the prospector's doors, where music was currently blasting from.
It had the bass of a drum leading it and plummeted the cold silence that gripped the empty prosecutor's office. She took a hesitant step forward until she was peering into the office, curiosity backfiring any kind of hesitation.
It was probably another prosecutor, this being their office space, after all. But who she saw made her double take. Into the idea of the person not being a prosecutor, but an eerily familiar face.
It was a boy, probably about ten years older than Trucy. A purple jacket was thrown over a shirt, and a small blond ponytail stuck from the back of his head, landing over the office chair he was leaning back in. his feet crisscrossed on the desk while he clicked away on a slender computer. Under his desk was where the music was coming from, speakers blasting from under his feet.
It was the same voice that she remembered from when she was younger, demanding and demanding from across the room. A pointer finger flecked with the same dark purple attire of the young gentleman now, a smirk paired with shorter, thicker hair.
A few years later, he looked relatively the same, as far as she could see. Guitars cluttered the back of the space, the twilight Los Angeles lights twinkled out of the full span window, and a leaning back chair shone a table with cluttered pens and notebooks. Why he would need a random notepad for prosecutor cases was a mystery to Trucy, especially with the scribbles that couldn’t have been for any kind of case files.
“Ach,” she looked to meet his dark eyes off him, furrowed in concentration, meeting hers “Fraulein, I know you’re looking.”
“Ach! I’m sorry.” Trucy ducked out of the way, embarrassment flooding through her. Better get back to Miles before he freaks out. It’s time to go anyway.
I can tell Daddy about this when I get back.
About how I saw Prosecutor Gavin again.
“Fraulein! Are you lost?” What does Fraulein mean? She turned to see the man’s face, dropped from the furrowed brow of confusion. “Why are you here after hours?”
He would know Miles, right?
But he’ll know my name then. She thought, a pang of fear coming through her. Worry swept through her. She had seen him three years ago in the courtroom, trying to convict her own father - who then disappeared. Her dad had been nearly convicted of being guilty, seconds from the judge slamming down the gavel. The one that she had helped escape, knowing that whyever he was running, she would help him.
Does he remember me? Does he even remember the trial?
He was the person to give her the evidence after all. The evidence that had got her dad disbarred. Was he truly aware of what had been done?
“I’m with my dad,” she said, letting her come fully into the doorway. His chair swiveled, and he set the computer on the desk.
“Young Frauleins like you shouldn’t be wandering around on your own this late - what’s his name? Do you need help finding your way back?”
“Um, I’m not lost.” she clarified. Best not to tell him I’m with Miles. “I just heard the music and was curious about where it was coming from.” she pointed at the speakers, still radiating with the reverberations she had heard in the hallway.
“So you know the way back?”
“Yeah, he works just around the corner.”
“What’s your name, Fraulein?” Why does he keep calling me that?
Her snark came out with the opposing thought, “I thought adults said not to tell strangers their names.”
“Ach - but you started to talk to me first. I am a stranger, and you started to talk to me. Therefore, it would not be any worse to give me your name.”
Why was he treating her like she was a kid? She was in sixth grade, yes, but the way he spoke, a patronizing tone leaking through the friendly demeanor. “I’m Prosecutor Gavin - but you may know me as Klavier Gavin.” he spread his hands forward, spinning in his chair. “Lead guitarist in the Gavinners, as I’m sure you’ve heard before.”
The Gavinners?
Ah, that band. The ones that were making headlines in the news, and the keychains that her classmates were starting to get. The glimmering dark purple that was coming on brand for anything of that kind.
“Never heard of it,” she admitted. She had, but the satisfactory smirk that was etched across his face gave her a lurch. Surely he wasn’t just treating her like one of his many followers - expecting her to pass after him as well.
“Ach, surely you have? The Prosecution's-”
“I like other kinds of music.” Call her mean, but she was really not in the mood to be reminded of his title in the court. The more he flaunted his prosecution status, the more he’ll be reminded, and the more likely that he’ll recognize her.
So far no flash of recognition flashed on his face. Just a sly smirk that had always been on, which slipped off with her words. “Ach, what kind?”
“Um,” Trucy desperately thought of the music she had downloaded on her iPod. She had left it at home, determined to hang out with Miles with whatever kind of company he needed. “I like video game music.'' That was close enough, right?
“Like video game soundtracks?” he messed with his speakers, lowering down the music that had surrounded them. Trucy tugged at her cape uncertainty, eventually wrapping it around her hands. “Here.”
The Animal Crossing theme started to play, a simple tune echoing across the brightly lit room. Klavier grinned, his early patronization apparently forgotten in his discussion of music. “You like Animal Crossing?”
“Yeah, I play it sometimes.”
“Do you know how to play the guitar?” Ah, yes, the everlasting strain of constant music on his mind.
He is in a band after all. Trucy reflected. “No, but I know how to play the piano.”
“What songs?”
The next thing Trucy heard was a scream from the man, as shadows flew in all over them, the lights outside the only faint sparkle in the room within seconds. There was another scream from behind Trucy, and she gripped her cape. What’s happening?
The last time someone had screamed like that was the bailiff at-
“Ach, Fraulein, are you okay?” came a shaky voice. With a fumble of a phone and a swear, his face stricken with fear came into view. “What happened?”
A blackout. “A power outage. Maybe something happened.” The lights didn’t flicker back on, and he increased his phone flashlight to illuminate more.
There was another scream, and Trucy ran. Her heart thudded, and Miles, Miles, Miles, thudded in beat with it.
She gripped her cape, soft blue dug in the child-like grip of trembling hands. She turned, nearly slamming into the wall. A pattern of footsteps signified her new companion, and the pale light that flecked from between her legs shot the way they ran.
Trucy arrived at the ajar door as the light hit chiseled dark wood. She snatched the phone flashlight, even with a muted protest from the man behind her. She scampered, nearly tripping on a trembling form beneath her.
“Miles?” she asked weakly, pressing her hand onto him. Please be alright, please be alright.
Logically she knew that he would be alright. Blackouts didn’t harm anyone physically, unless one tripped over something, of course. But she hadn’t heard a thud, so what had spanned this form of muted words and glazed-over eyes.
“Miles?” she shook him, “Miles, please say something, please - what’s going on, I-”
Her dad’s unsure face when they had left flashed in her mind. He knew that something might happen - something to do with the wintertime that caused Miles to break him. Trucy knew nothing broke Miles, not even the hardest of cases. Only things that related to his family, things that-
“Prosecutor Edgeworth?” Klavier bent down near her, his finger, flecked with dark purple reaching out to him. The man didn’t stir, even at the hesitation wave of the hand in front of the older man’s face. “Prosecutor Edgeworth?”
“Trucy?” Miles finally spoke, a muted word in the dark room.
“Yes, I’m here.”
“I said ten minutes.” his eyes didn’t move, just his mouth forming small words, hauntingly slow in the pitch-black, silent room. “You didn’t come back.”
“I started talking with Prosecutor Gavin,” she murmured. “What’s happening, Miles, please-”
Dark eyes pinned her skin, raking over her brown ponytail, and her small form. Her cape that she clutched in her trembling hands.
“I’m fine,” he said stiffly. His dark eyes flickered just a bit, a machine whirling back to life. “Trucy, are you okay?”
“Ja, she is,” Klavier said gently, being down to him... “We were just talking about music. Are you okay now, Prosecutor Miles?”
“Prosecutor Gavin,” Miles responded, his eyes narrowing onto the younger man, “What were you doing, talking to her?” his voice rejected the soothing tone that Klavier spoke, the cooing to help out a small child.
He works with him, of course, he knows him. Trucy thought. Klavier didn’t seem to take offense to his aimed words, just smirking. He isn’t even phased by his hostility.
He’s used to it, of course. He’s the man that got Daddy disbarred after all.
Verbal affection or not, the binding loyalty that ran like an undercurrent through the two older men was never something to mess with. Nothing distorted from that, defense leaking out quickly in the air of someone of previous hostility.
“He’s also here after hours.” she quickly explained. I may not like him, but I don’t want Miles to get the wrong idea. “We ran into each other, then the blackout happened.”
“A blackout?” Edgeworth asked hesitatingly, finally coming to his surroundings. Thick shadows lay in his room, the faint lights seeping into the room from beyond the window. Nothing solidified, just the immediate blinds. “What happened?”
“Ach, we don’t know.” Klavier shrugged, leaning back a bit, out of the light. “Then we heard a scream, then came to you, Prosecutor Edgeworth.”
He’s not mentioning that he also screamed like a banshee.
“Alright,” Edgeworth said, his voice coming out shakily. “We should head home then.”
“I don’t think you should.”
“Prosecutor Gavin, you should be heading home too.” they made eye contact - at least Trucy thought so. Klavier was just out of frame, his calloused hands still visible in the meager phone light.
The message was clear, still framed with the previous hostility. The immediate defense, the immediate refusal.
“You can’t get anywhere in this lighting.”
“We can use the phone flashlight to get down.”
“You’ll have to take the elevator though.”
“We’re not taking the elevator!” Miles’s yell made Klavier retreat back into the shadows. “Prosecutor Gavin, I appreciate your concern,” Well, I don’t think any of us believe that. “But we’re leaving with the stairs.”
“In the middle of a power outage?” he snorted, “Prosecutor Edgeworth, I can assure you that-”
“We should-”
“Stop it!” Trucy yelled, her voice cutting into the gradually louder voices. “This isn’t helping any of this. Miles, can we head home the Miles?” Miles’s eyes glazed over, his form stiffening with Trucy’s interruption. “Miles?”
“Prosecutor Edgeworth?” Klavier’s voice shook a bit, coming back into the light. His hands reached forward, but the trembling continued. He whipped to her, “What happened? Is this my fault?”
Your fault?
“I think he’s still in shock.” she quietly admitted. Was it because of him? Do louder voices during this kind of situation make it worse? Or did the arguing enforce this? “Miles, Miles, you gotta-”
“I think he needs to do this,” Klavier murmured, bending down next to her. He waved his hands in front of Miles. “He-”
“How would you know? You were the one arguing in the first place.”
“I didn’t think my arguing would get that far,” he grunted. Doubt flickered in his eyes as he squeezed his fist. What did you think was going to happen?
At least I stopped it.
“Anyways, I think he’s going to continue like this for a bit. I know a bit about dissociation from…” he faltered, then shook his head. “During attacks, or when something like this happens, leaving them is the best option. I think.”
You think. Skepticism doubted Trucy’s brain, but she held Miles’s hand. His heart still thudded through it, and it curled up to grip her own. She couldn’t see into him though, just dull eyes and a mouth hanging just open.
Daddy, why didn’t you tell me what happened?
“You are Trucy Enigmar, right?” a shiver was sent down her spine at those words. The recollection of her, at last. “Zam Enigma's kid. You live with… Mr. Wright, right?”
“It’s Trucy Wright.” she corrected automatically, “Yeah, I live with him and Miles.”
“Prosecutor Edgeworth.” he murmured, “Having a relationship with Phoenix Wright.” he mused.
Trucy looked away, gripping Mile’s hand more. It came to encircle her, and she braced herself. What would he say? What would-
“Is….” he stretched out the sentence, his voice suspiciously thick. The man had lowered his head, concealing his face in the darkness. “How are you guys?”
“Can we move Miles to your office?” she dodged the question, her heart pounding. He furrowed his eyebrows at her, but she just stared back at Edgeworth. Please. Not now.
Miles matters right now more than anything, not this.
Memories were resurfacing, her first meeting with her dad and-
A thick emotion curled in her stomach as they - Klavier and Trucy - sat together. The first time in four years they had seen each other. Alone, in fact, with the facts from that trial spiraling the two like clouds. Wisps that fell around them, suspicion and unreadable faces falling into the smokey hazes that adopt them.
“Ja.'' Apparently, that meant yes, while Klavier tried to get Edgeworth to stand. Miles fell with a deadweight, Klavier no match for the man. He huffed while Trucy hovered around them. Best to stay back for now.
After a few attempts, Miles slumped to the ground. Trucy finally helped after Klavier’s huffing breath, and they slowly guided him to slide onto the couch. The flashlight shone toward the ceiling, tracing the ceiling panels.
“Ach, I don’t think that’s good. I think that’s the best we can do.” Klavier said. His voice was strained as he asked, “We’ll see if he comes around.”
“You think he won’t?” she squeaked, high-pitched like she was a young child. “You said-”
“I mean…when he comes around. He will,” Klavier reassured her, his eyes widening at the prospect of making a child anxious. Better to think about that years ago.
“I’ll go get water.” she proclaimed. He opened his mouth to argue, but she whipped around. “From the break room.”
“Do you know your way back?”
“I’ll be fine.” she grabbed his phone off of the floor and streaked off. Her cape lay behind her as she dashed into the long hallways. She stumbled away from the light behind her, and she clutched the wall.
Her throat tightened up, the voice that had asked about her, the sinister voice which had pinned the doubt of her father - no, he would never. She hadn’t fully understood the trial, but she knew that this man, this man who was barely an adult prosecuted her father for murder.
A murder that-
She flickered the light on higher, and a beam pointed down the hallway. Being in the same room with him, made those clouds flicker with rain, the threatening voices of him across the courtroom coming out of his smirked-up face now, aimed at Miles. The avenged, arrogant voice seems to stumble out of his mouth, regardless of if he realized it.
He wants to ask me questions. Probably about the trial - probably about my dad. Her feet pattered down, the thoughts spiraling around her head. Probably on if Daddy is still looking for a job.
The boy thought, the doubt that had lingered in the air after Miles went unresponsive. Lack of hostility and panic fidgeting in his features, a trembling boy in the stochastic man. His arguments fell short when his opponent fell, only his arrogance, and argumentative words coming out within the presence of another adult.
He’s like a lot of attorneys. She reflected. She followed the doors until a single one appeared, flanked with windows looking into the wide room, a kitchenette lining up along one side. She opened the handle, leaving it hanging open as she ventured into the silent room. Light streamed in from the window, a fully paneled window stretching the gaze to more skyscrapers and construction. It wasn’t much, but she could work with it.
She set down the phone on the wall, letting the light stretch into the crevices near the kitchen sink. She grabbed two plastic cups, red with white rimmed on the inside - perks of a prosecutor party earlier that week - and slid them under the dink. Tap water flowed into each as she slid one, then two cups under it.
Better to give them both water. Maybe it would oppose any questions he had for her until Miles woke up. If he did soon. Worry weighed her down as she tightened her grip on both cups.
What would Daddy do? If he was caught in a situation with Prosecutor Gavin?
She had thought she knew her dad well enough, with the way he had grown into slumped sweats and poker faces over the years. The aged mustache that he grew, but also the chuckles of fondness that lined his mouth as it tipped up into a laugh. She knew exactly how he wanted her to act for the poker acts they pulled, her bracelet tingling at just the right moments.
The team they were, even before Miles came into their life.
For once…she didn’t know. They hadn’t spoken about the trial much, only as Trucy asked him about her biological father after kids at school had asked. She thought she knew him - but stuck with the man who ruined his entire career - what would she do?
Without Miles or Daddy, how was she going to cope with this?
“He’s not that bad.” she tried to reason out loud. The invisible audience didn’t agree though, but she repeated herself. “He’s not that bad - he cares about Miles, that couldn’t make him that bad, right?”
He isn’t a bad person. She corrected herself.
She knew all about that. The different grays of morality that would appear to each person, and what each person was really.
She sighed, clutching both of the cups of water. Better now than never I suppose.
Whatever questions he asks, I’ll just answer them as Daddy would want me to. He’s not going to harm me, is he?
The thought was instantaneous, but she shook her head. He was after my dad because-
“Miss Trucy?” she yelped as Klavier’s voice called from the head of the room, a flashlight framing him as he shone it onto himself. “I was wondering what was taking so long.”
Oh.
“I didn’t get lost, I was just-” she faltered. I was too busy thinking about you to be able to do anything. “I was just thinking.”
“Just thinking,” he repeated. Was that amusement or concern in his voice, “Well, you should keep thinking near Prosecutor Edgeworth and me.”
He didn’t come here to interrogate me. She noted. Well, why would he?
Fear kept erupting, a sputtering volcano in her gut as Klavier led her back. The silence was broken by their footsteps, Doc Martens and tennis shoes stammering in it. They twisted, and Trucy was fully aware of the probing questions that had stopped from the older man.
He probably thought I ran away in fright. Which I partly did, to be fair.
It wasn’t fear that kept Trucy still, it was the apprehension. The man that had stopped her life from counting the way she should have had, in her family’s magical troupe. It was his job but-
“I’m not going to hurt you, Fraulein.” Klavier said as he stopped in front of the door, “I…I don’t know if you think that.”
Oh.
So he could tell.
What am I supposed to say here? She picked her cape up from the ground and fidgeted with it. Was she that easy to read?
“Why do you keep calling me Fraulein?” she asked instead. Her mind melted a bit with the clarification from the older man, the last of worry and uncertainty fading away from her mind.
“It’s a German term,” he explained, settling down next to Miles on the couch again. Trucy walked over and carefully set water on the table next to Miles. “I studied a bit in Germany.”
“Are you fluent?”
“I mostly know it. It's part of my appeal, what can I say?"
“What does that mean?”
“You’ll never get to know, Fraulein.” he laughed. Trucy glared at him and he raised his hands up placidly, “Ach, it means miss. Like Miss Trucy, but just in a different language.”
“Do you call girls that?”
He smiled, a bit sheepishly. It looked odd on him, quite different from the short-haired prosecutor in court years ago. “Ja.”
Trucy pondered for a moment, then asked, “What else can you say in German?”
He touched his chin for a second, then said, “wie geht es deiner familie, möchte ich fragen / ich sehe deine angespannten schultern in ungewissheit zusammengezogen / deine familie ist jetzt mit einer aufgabe verbrannt / die neugier brennt, aber es gibt die allgemeine höflichkeit.” (see author’s note)
Trucy blinked. It sounded like he was straggling a frog, but the way the beat sounded. Were they lyrics? He tapped away on the couch armchair in rhythm, humming it half to himself, and a half to her.
“Is that a song?” she asked. He nodded, the faltering of his tone leaving room for her question. “What song was it?”
“You wouldn’t know it, it’s in german.”
Well, yeah. “What’s it called?”
“I forgot,'' Trucy was shot with that feeling, the burning of the words at the edges. A slight echo to them, and her eyes narrowed into his fingers, fidgeting with his hair. “It’s one from my childhood, I think.”
He’s lying. Some sixth sense of Trucy twinged in herself. Was he lying? And why? It was a simple German song - as he said, of course - why would he feel the need for that?
“You’ve grown.” Klavier counted, clearly wanting to get the German discussion out of the way.
Here it goes. Trucy thought, gripping her cape. She felt cornered like a mouse, the same boy who had reassured her only moments before asking about her family. The same one that disbarred her dad, that-
But he just sang a German song. He asked about my favorite music. He acknowledged that he isn’t going to hurt me in any way.
“Yeah.” What else was she supposed to say?
“How’s your family doing?” was that out of civility or genuine curiosity, she didn't know. He wasn’t fidgeting this time though, and nothing twinged in Trucy’s mind about that.
“We’re managing.” she piped up. “I do magician shows at the local diner, and Daddy’s taken up poker. He’s an undefeated champion.”
“Of course, Phoenix Wright would take up poker.” he snorted. Trucy narrowed her eyes. Just as she thought he was…alright. Not alright necessarily, but not the person that she remembered from years ago. Not the person that she shivered as soon as she recognized.
He said Phoenix, not Mr. Wright, as he should be known. She realized. He still doesn't respect Daddy. Only still judgmental that Daddy presented false evidence.
Which I gave him. She didn’t know it was false evidence of course, but the person who looked like Klavier, a broader man with kinder eyes. When he had given that to her, he had said it would save her dad in the tiring trial.
“Was it worth it?” she asked, her tone small. “Do you regret any of that?”
She didn’t know what she expected, but a bitter laugh settled into exactly what she had expected.
“He’s the one that presented forged evidence, Fraulein. ”
That’s not the truth. She thought stubbornly. I know that. Daddy would never do anything like that.
But he doesn’t know about any of that. He won’t ever, I’m sure of it.
“Was it still?” she pressed. It was gathering more thickly now, the clouds. She met Klavier's eyes across Miles, and the clouds flickered with lighting, “Was it worth disbarring my dad over that? Or even putting my…..putting the defendant of that trial in jail?” Are all prosecutors like this?
Determined to the end in the courtroom, and still acting that way in casual settings? Still having that narcissistic attitude.
“It’s my job, kid.” there was no more Fraulein, or Trucy, just a scowl. “Ach - it’s my job, Miss Trucy. He did it, it’s what the court decided. It’s not my job to question that or not.”
“But you-”
“Fraulein.” he closed his eyes, breathing deeply. “Your father presented false evidence. It cost him his defendant’s life.”
“Dad still got away though!” she argued. He abandoned me in the defendant’s lobby. But he still got away.
“Well, that’s just that one case.” he snapped his fingers, brushing away her words, “I’m a prosecutor. I’m a musician, that’s my job, Fraulein. If someone messes up on their own, it’s not my responsibility.”
“The evidence was…” she protested.
“The evidence was faked.”
“It wasn’t supposed to be there. You - someone who looked like you told me to give it to Daddy.” she burst out. The cloud rained down now, and the exhaustion from the past hour weighed down on h, “Someone who was like you told me that it would help out my Daddy. He promised - but it was fake!”
“Kris…” Klavier’s eyes went wide. “He gave it to you ?”
“Someone who looked like you. He was older though and had glasses. He said it would help Daddy, but it didn’t.” she crossed her arms defiantly. “It was false, but it wasn’t Daddy’s fault.”
Klavier just stared at her, unable to respond. He curled his first, looking for something to cling onto, but he just shook his head and forced out a laugh, “Miss Trucy, do you really think that-”
“Trucy?” came a small note - a small tone of a piano reverberating around the room. Miles’s eyes flickered to life, machine whirling as his eyes fell to her. “Are you okay?”
The tensed shoulders that Trucy had been holding relaxed as she hugged him. “Yes, yes I’m fine!” she crowed, burying her face into his collarbone. He sucked in a breath and carefully started to rub her back. Up and down.
“I’m…I don’t do well in power outages,” he said slowly. “I’m sorry for zoning out like that.”
“You’re alright though.” she murmured, “You scared me.”
“I’m sorry, Miss-”
“Trucy,” she stated. “Just Trucy.”
“Okay, Trucy.” he smiled, a genuine one despite it not quite reaching his eyes. “Hold on, where is Prosecutor Gavin?”
“He’s-” Trucy looked up at him, but the man had vanished. The shadows had swallowed him up, the cloud disappearing within moments in the sun that had shone through. The clouds faded away now, the resentment falling slowly away at what he was about to say. "He was just right here."
Did he know what had really happened? Why did he seem so shocked when she mentioned the older man who looked at him?
Of course, he knows more. She thought sadly. He’s never going to say anything though.
The conversation had seemed like it was a silent exchange of the emotions they both dug down deep. The first faces in years they had seen - the young girl who had lost her father - and the boy who had caused that, who was only doing his job. The secrets were still hidden there, Trucy knew that as a truth.
They were still hidden in Klavier’s mind, the boy that joked about music with her, but with the secrets behind his smirking face and the instantaneous biting tones at the other side of the courtroom, and even to other prosecutors. The ones that were pinned up with the captured attitude - the one that came with his gold albums over the years, she would soon come to learn - and demeanor in court. The confidence spilled into what he knew now.
She uncurled her fists from gripping Miles’s shirt and smiled. “Let’s go home.”
Let’s go back to Daddy.