Work Text:
I don't ask how hard the work is
Got a rough indestructible surface
Diamonds and platinum, I find 'em, I flatten 'em
I take what I'm handed, I break what's demanded, but
Under the surface...
I'm pretty sure I'm worthless if I can't be of service…
Apollo doesn’t feel quite right.
There’s been a growing sense of wrongness prickling in his chest since the beginning of the trial. It has nothing to do with his client, thankfully; he knows they’re innocent. No, this strange feeling seems to be coming from… nowhere. There is no logical explanation for it, and, yet, it only increases in intensity as the trial commences.
As things proceed, Apollo vaguely recognizes Prosecutor Gavin periodically glancing at him from the other side of the courtroom. Athena’s hand clasps his forearm and it’s just about the only thing that keeps him anchored to reality. The bystanders seated off to the side are whispering, but that’s no surprise. The courtroom is never a very quiet place. Apollo has grown accustomed to this, but he feels as if the volume in the room today is in direct conflict with his senses. His skin prickles.
The trial continues. He’s well aware that he’s floundering a little. Athena has to save him a few times and clarify his thought process. Apollo just can’t think with the huge influx of unnecessary information. Each time he looks up at the judge, he sees the man’s unconscious tick [his right wrist flicks, as if miming the movement of a gavel]. Every time he looks at his client, he sees their left hand twitch with nervousness. Apollo places his elbows on the stand and puts his hands over his eyes. He needs a break from his sight.
“Are you quite alright, Mr. Justice?” the judge asks, breaking him out of his spiraling thoughts. Apollo curses the universe. Of course, the judge chooses this very moment to be observant. The attorney takes a shuddering breath and grips the stand tightly. He can’t lose his composure—not here. “You’re looking rather pale over there.” The entire courtroom fixates on him and his stomach turns with unease and discomfort. He looks down at his hands clenching the wooden surface below, the cracks between the seams, and anything else but the expectant gazes leveled at him.
“......Yes,” Apollo chokes out. He’s brutally aware of Athena’s gaze burning into the side of his face, but he pretends not to notice. No doubt, if she were to read his emotions, they’d be past 100% volume. At least, that’s what it feels like. He manifests a confidence that he’s not quite able to possess at the moment. “I’m fine. Continue, Your Honor.”
Time drags on. As the next witness begins their testimony, Apollo has to slap a hand over his eye. The movement is far from subtle, and he unwillingly draws the attention of several people. Prosecutor Gavin has the strangest look on his face, but he can hardly focus on that. The witness continues and Apollo grips Athena’s wrist weakly with his free hand, hoping she gets the message. Thankfully, she nods and takes over for him. He feels as if his knees are going to buckle. Apollo returns his grip to the stand. Athena’s cross examination sounds warped and garbled in his ears. Whenever he looks up from the ground, he sees twitching hands, blinking eyes, shrugging shoulders, fingers twisting rings, sweat stains… He doesn’t let his gaze wander for the rest of the cross examination.
Thankfully, Athena manages to move the trial along to the point where the judge is ready to announce the verdict. The defendant returns to the witness stand and the judge bangs his gavel loudly. Apollo can’t quite comprehend what’s going on. Everyone is facing him again. He glances around the courtroom in confusion. Athena’s mouth moves, but he can’t understand what she’s saying. Apollo feels his body turning before he can control it. He strides away from the defense stand, ignoring Athena’s confused exclamations and the crowd’s bewildered gazes. His bracelet’s grip is nearly suffocating. He slips out of the courtroom and mechanically makes his way to a secluded corner in the defendant’s lobby.
Apollo digs his fingernails into his palms, trying his best to maintain composure. The defense lobby is quiet, thankfully. Unfortunately, the moment he acknowledges this, the viewers exit the courtroom and swarm into the space. Apollo flattens his back against the wall behind him and takes a few measured breaths. He’s fine. He’s Apollo Justice and he’s fine. He’s fine. He’s Apollo Justice and he’s—
His bracelet is tightening again. Apollo glances around the room, trying to find what his senses are alerting him to. Somehow, he can’t concentrate on anything. Voices bounce across the walls. People walk to and fro, but as they pass, Apollo notices each of their tension points—the man in the corner’s left hand is twitching, the woman on his right won’t stop licking her lips. He can see every minute twitch, feel every tap of the foot, hear every pointed cough. He feels footsteps against the floor and the walls minutely shaking behind him. Apollo can hear, see, feel, and touch everything. He tugs at his bracelet but the material is melding into his skin, creating a horrible pulsing feeling that rolls down his forearm.
It’s terribly easy to lose himself in all of the unneeded sensory input. Apollo tries to breathe in, but he nearly chokes as his airways tighten inexplicably. He brings a hand up to his throat and takes rasping breaths. Everything suddenly swarms around him. A few people appear in front of him and start asking him questions. He can’t understand what they’re saying and each time he looks up, Apollo sees their every gesture, no matter how miniscule. It’s getting to be too much, way too much-
He sinks down to the ground, his back against the wall. Apollo covers his ears with his hands and closes his eyes, wishing for an escape. With his eyes closed, he doesn’t have to take in any of the habits of the people around him. Even so, he can hear their hushed whispers and casual conversations. He can feel his personal space bubble collapsing before his very eyes. He tries to clench his fists, but his hands tremble at the effort.
“Herr Justice.”
Dread coils in his chest. The absolute last person he wants to see is standing before him. Apollo promptly covers his eyes, wishing Prosecutor Gavin away. There are still far too many people in the cramped defense lobby. He brings his knees to his chest and curls into himself, trying to shrink away from all the people that seem to be descending upon him.
Somehow, bystanders begin to filter out of the defense lobby. Prosecutor Gavin isn’t standing in front of him anymore, thankfully, but Apollo watches through blurry vision as the man ushers people out of the space. He recognizes the bright patch of yellow off to the side as Athena, and observes dazedly as she pushes people. It would be amusing, in a different situation. Apollo wraps his arms around himself, his vision clarifying and intensely focusing on a spot on the carpet. It sharpens, blurs, then sharpens again. That’s definitely not good, he thinks to himself wryly.
Clean-cut fabric and blond hair encompass his vision. He hesitantly looks up at Prosecutor Gavin, whose eyebrows are furrowed. His lips are moving but Apollo has no idea what he’s saying. He shakes his head rapidly and the man seems to catch on. The prosecutor places a hand on his shoulder. Somehow, Gavin’s grip is just the right pressure- firm but not uncomfortably so.
Apollo is vaguely aware of how unsightly he must look, but the recognition is overridden by his sensory overload. He clutches at the prosecutor—his enemy, rival, friend?—’s forearm tightly, desperate for an anchor to reality. His grip must be rather painful, but his rival doesn’t so much as make a sound. There are tears slipping down his face, Apollo detachedly recognizes. There’s a deeply worried expression on Prosecutor Gavin’s face. Apollo wonders what he did to warrant such concern.
He self consciously rubs at his right eye, hissing at how rough it feels. Pain courses through him at the motion and he brings a trembling hand back from his eye. Apollo’s heart drops to his chest. The droplets falling down his face aren’t tears.
There’s blood on his hand, splattered across his palm and fingers. Apollo dazedly brings a hand up to his eye again, and more blood returns. He looks down at his hand and images flash before his eyes. He sees the victim’s dead body. Apollo sees himself standing over his dead best friend, a knife in hand and blood dripping down his skin. He sees the ruined courtroom. He feels Ted Donate’s shadow behind him, looming over him and delivering a blow to the back of his head.
“Apollo!” a voice says. He doesn’t know where it comes from, but somehow it breaks him out of his spiral. Unfortunately, Apollo does realize that he’s hyperventilating. His breaths are coming shorter and quicker each time. His eyes widen uncontrollably and his whole body shakes. Apollo’s arms are wrapped around himself and he squeezes, desperate for solace, for something, anything. The grip on his shoulder tightens but he can hardly notice it amidst his heart pounding in his ears and his ragged breathing.
“Polly!”
Apollo looks up and finds Trucy running towards him. She nearly crashes into him as she crouches down and embraces him. Apollo leans forward into her arms without hesitation, letting his sister clutch him tightly. His hands shake behind her back and he leans his head into her shoulder. Blood continues to seep down his face and he winces in pain.
“It’s okay,” Trucy whispers, her fingers carding through his hair. He desperately wants to feel embarrassed, but the only feeling he can recognize is the visceral desire to be connected to reality. His fingers clench and unclench in the fabric of her coat as he tries to ground himself. Apollo closes his eyes and takes shuddering breaths.
Before long, Athena joins in, too. Ordinarily, Apollo would feel overwhelmed from the physical contact. However, right now, it feels as if they’re shielding him from the outside world. Apollo hugs his friends tightly, grateful that they’re always there for him. His breathing slowly begins to return to normal and his heart no longer feels as if it’ll beat right out of his chest.
His shame begins to come back, as he catches a glimpse of Mr. Wright and Prosecutor Gavin talking and occasionally looking back at him. Apollo bites his lip. Before he can sink in his own humiliation any more, Trucy is tugging him even closer. Athena has a hand on the nape of his neck, and her fingers crawl through his hair soothingly.
The three of them stay on the ground for an immeasurable amount of time. The blood leaking from his eye begins to dilute and turn cloudy pink in color. Even when his breaths no longer feel labored, there’s a scratchy feeling deep in his throat that extends down to his chest. Apollo digs the heels of his hands into his eyes, trying to find himself in the dizzying swirl of colors.
“You alright, Apollo?” Mr. Wright asks, once he’s off of the ground and standing against the wall. Concern gleams in his eyes and Apollo can’t decide if he should feel guilty or thankful for it. He takes a shuddering breath in and nods, not trusting himself to speak. His boss places a reassuring hand on his shoulder and smiles. Before Apollo can apologize for the inconvenience, Mr. Wright is tugging him into a hug. Apollo stiffens in surprise for the briefest of moments, before hesitantly reciprocating. Before long, it turns into a group hug. Trucy is on his left side, a hand on his forearm, and Athena is on his right side, with an arm slung around his shoulder.
Apollo smiles, feeling the burning feeling in his eyes return once again. This time, it appears he is crying. The tears aren’t sad, however. He’s relieved, touched to have his friends and their support. It appears he isn’t as alone as he thought he was.
Apollo Justice isn’t fine yet, but he will be.