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Simon Blackquill sat in his prison cell, staring at the wall and doing much of nothing. In a way, he had been preparing for these trials for so long, and yet it tired him to go to court. It tired him to see people he knew but couldn’t talk to. Tired him to keep his secrets in front of those who deserved to know. With a sigh, he removed his hair tie, which was barely holding together his dark mane. Now freed, his messy locks poofed around him. Sometimes (well…often) it would be a bit annoying to deal with. He would cut it, but he honestly liked the look.
He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. The stress of seven years on death row had obviously taken their toll. Part of his hair had turned white, and he had what seemed to be almost permanent markings under his eyes. He used to cry a lot and it somehow left him with visible proof of this fact. His eyes didn’t belong to him. They were darker. Held less light. He knew how he used to be, but he had changed, all in the name of protecting her.
He took some feathers out of his hair and rubbed his face, feeling the fatigue of the day setting in. Simon groaned in annoyance as the sound of a violin being played began to echo in the prison hallway.
“Could you cease that awful noise, Gavin?” Blackquill spoke loudly to be heard over the stringed instrument. The playing stopped abruptly.
“I don’t recall asking for your input, Blackquill.” The quite literal “criminal” (ex) defense attorney shot back.
“All I am saying is I have been here longer than you, and so I am quite aware of how much the others dislike your little rehearsals.” Simon kept up his legal persona.
The German scoffed. “Interesting you should say that, seeing as I haven’t been here for that long compared to you, and yet I already know that everyone here hates your bird. And you.”
Blackquill rolled his eyes, not being able to see his vocal opponent. He was about to retort when someone else replied for him.
“That’s not entirely true, Mr. Gavin!” The unmistakable tone of the Champion of Justice rang out as the sound of footsteps came down the hall.
“Great. Fool Bright.” Simon muttered. Detective Fulbright came into view and gave the prosecutor a wink before speaking again.
“I happen to be quite fond of Prosecutor Blackquill.” The white-suited man continued.
“You don’t count. You are fond of everyone.” Kristoph shot back.
“On the contrary! I do not care for you!” Fulbright laughed loudly.
Blackquill chuckled lightly to himself. He enjoyed it when Gavin was put in his place. Fulbright walked backwards to come back into view of Simon. He was wearing a smile quite befitting of the name Fulbright. Blackquill quickly ended his chuckling.
“There was no need for you to do that, Fool Bright.” The samurai gave him his signature death stare while removing his coat.
“Yes there is! You’re my prosecutor! I may be here to make sure you don’t go off the rails in court, but I also work for you!” The detective let himself into the prison cell. Blackquill huffed in annoyance. He could only take so much of this man in one day.
“Why must you come into my chamber?” Simon turned to look at Fulbright, sitting down on his bed and crossing his arms.
“I just wanted to check in on you. See how you were doing after today’s trial.” The investigator grinned and sat next to the prosecutor on the bed.
“I am tired. I would like to be left alone.” Blackquill gave a curt response.
“Oh, c’mon now. You make it seem like you don’t want to hang out with me!” Fulbright laughed again.
“...” Simon raised his eyebrow. He couldn’t believe how dense the detective could be sometimes.
“Ah, there he goes again. Mr. Stoic Samurai. All brooding and silent.”
“You insist upon invading my personal space. Are you not afraid of me, Fool Bright? I’ve killed before.”
Fulbright laughed again. “You don’t scare me! Chief Prosecutor Edgeworth trusts you. Why shouldn’t I?”
Simon groaned and put his face in his hands, exasperation quickly setting in.
Fulbright looked around nervously and then laughed softly. “Something tells me you don’t want me here.”
“Oh. Really? What gave you that impression?” Blackquill’s voice was like that katana seven years prior-- dripping. Although, this time with sarcasm and not with blood. He looked up into the detective’s eyes that were hidden behind those sunset shades of his.
Fulbright’s grin faded a little. “You don’t look happy.”
“Have I ever?”
“I suppose you have a point, but I’ve seen you smile.” Fulbright cocked his head to the side.
“Smiles do not a happy man make.”
“Lovelace.”
“Ah. You are familiar?” Simon finally did not have to feign interest. He was not expecting the detective to know 1600s poetry.
“‘Stone walls do not a prison make, nor iron bars a cage.’” Fulbright quoted. “You lock yourself up, Prosecutor Blackquill.”
“Pardon?”
“Yeah, sure, you’re here in prison-”
“Death row.”
“Yes, death row…but that doesn’t mean you need to put yourself in a prison of your own making. Metaphorically speaking, of course.” Fulbright pushed his sunglasses up to the bridge of his nose.
“I’ll be dead here soon.”
“Make the most of it.” The detective grinned.
Simon rolled his eyes. “Do you not realize how ignorant you sound? I am on death row. I cannot just go and ‘make the most’ of the remaining months I have.”
“Well, I bet I could help! Hasn’t there been something you’ve always wanted to do? Travel? Try pistachio ice cream? Fall in love?” Fulbright listed off random suggestions as he stared into Blackquill’s eyes with such hopeful intensity that it caused the prosecutor to grow anxious. What was he yammering on about?
“It is unimportant anyways. I cannot leave this cell unless for court.” Simon looked away.
“I bet if I can convince Gumshoe, he can convince Chief Prosecutor Edgeworth!”
“There is nothing I want.”
“Really? Not a single thing?”
Blackquill thought for a moment. “I suppose I would like to be happy. That is my wish.”
“...Not sure I can help you with that if I don’t have anything to go off of.” Fulbright chuckled. “But I really do want to help you. I want you to be happy.”
Simon looked down, not being able to meet Fulbright’s sparkling gaze. Did he always glow like that? Blackquill blocked the thought away.
He then felt a firm hand on his shoulder, feeling the heat of it through both his own clothes and the detective’s glove.
“If you think of anything, just let me know.” Fulbright smiled in a way that felt more sincere than the others. Blackquill felt frozen.
“...I would be happy…if…”
The detective’s eyes grew wide. “Yes?”
“If you would leave me alone.”
Fulbright sighed and hung his head. His actions always seemed so exaggeratory, but Simon had come to realize that the detective was just like that. Always.
“Alright, Prosecutor Blackquill.”
The Twisted Samurai did not lack empathy. The downtrodden expression of the wet cat of a man that sat beside him tugged at his emotions.
“Simon.”
“Huh? My name’s Bobby.”
“No-...” Blackquill just stared at Fulbright for a moment with a look of awe in regards to how stupid this “Hero of Justice” could be at times. “Fool Bright, you know my name is Simon.”
“Ah! Sorry!” Fulbright laughed and grinned, but then looked confused. “Now hold on. If you know that I know that your name is Simon, then why did you just tell me?”
Blackquill groaned. “I was…giving you permission to refer to me as such. Out of court, of course.”
“Oh!” The detective’s eyes lit up. The prosecutor had to look away; it was almost blinding. “Well, Simon! Just because we are friends now doesn’t mean you won’t get my Jolt of Justice if you get too rowdy in the courtroom! I hope you do not mind electric shocks!”
“I never said we were friends, Fool Bright.”
“Bobby.”
“No.”
“Okie-dokie!”
Simon sighed. “...Fine. We’re not friends…Bobby.” The word felt oddly foreign coming from him.
“Actually, never mind. I think I like you calling me Fool Bright more.” The detective laughed and hit Simon on the back. The prosecutor flinched and sighed again, feeling his migraine return. He glanced back at Fulbright, who was smiling…as always. However, there was something in his eyes, something Simon couldn’t place. Something deeper.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen colour in your face before.” The detective laughed softly.
“Wh-what?” Blackquill sat up straight, his eye twitching. Now that he was aware of it, he could feel his face become warmer.
“It looks good on ya. You’re always so pale!” Bobby grinned. Simon might have gotten a tan from how annoyingly sunshiny his detective was if it was able to work like that.
“That is from the lack of sunlight for seven years.” Blackquill looked into Fulbright’s eyes.
“Hmm…” Fulbright thought for a moment. “Why don’t we walk to the courthouse for the next trial?”
“...Walk?” Simon looked at the detective like he was speaking in gibberish. “Bobby, I am a convicted murderer on death row. I can’t just walk down the street!”
“Okay, but I’ll be there, Simon!”
The two men, opposites in every way, glared at each other as they tried to prove their respective points. Fulbright leaned forwards, furrowing his brows further and increasing his pout. Blackquill squinted his eyes and sneered more, leaning forwards as well.
Their noses touched and Blackquill froze. What was he doing? He tried to lean back and return to his normal behaviour, but Fulbright took his hands, lacing fingers.
“In justice we trust.” The detective looked so hopeful.
“...”
“In justice…” Bobby began.
Simon rolled his eyes. “...we trust.”
Fulbright grinned. “Y’know what, though?”
“Yes, Fool Bright?” Blackquill was itching to get his hands away.
“In Blackquill, I trust.” The detective said with more sincerity than Simon had ever heard from him.
“...Well…” The prosecutor cleared his throat and said with a flit of a smile, “I suppose…in Fulbright, I trust.”
Bobby squeezed Blackquill’s hands. “The corners of your mouth are going up.” He laughed. “Did it work? Did I make you happy?”
Simon stared at Fulbright silently for a moment before speaking up. “...In a way…yes.” He felt his face warm up again.
“I’ll be by your side until the end, Simon.” Fulbright finally let go of the prosecutor’s hands. He took off his sunglasses and smiled softly at the emo man next to him. “Oh, you have a feather in your hair.” Bobby leaned forwards and got very close to the samurai’s face. He gently untangled the feather and removed it. He didn’t lean back yet.
The detective and the prosecutor stayed like that for what felt like the longest second of Simon’s life. Blackquill tried to keep looking forwards, but with Fulbright’s face so close to his, he couldn’t help but keep glancing sideways to the sunshine man.
Bobby finally leaned back, allowing Simon to relax.
“Your hair is kind of a mess.” Fulbright pointed out.
“It’s fine enough.”
“Can I brush it out for you?”
Blackquill had to take a moment to process the offer. “You…wh…why?”
“To make you happy!”
“...”
“It’ll be nice!” Fulbright gave him a playful expression.
Simon sighed. “Fine. Just this once.”
Bobby grinned and reached into his gun holster. Blackquill didn’t feel the need to be worried. He felt as though he really was beginning to trust the foolhardy Fulbright. The detective brandished a hairbrush and presented it the same way he would do his police badge.
“You had that on you?” The prosecutor crossed his arms.
“You never know when you’ll need a hairbrush!”
“Sure.” Simon gave up on trying to figure out this man. Bobby set down the hairbrush on the bed before removing his shoes, his holster, his gloves and his suit coat. He grinned and climbed behind where the prosecutor was sitting.
Blackquill glanced behind him at the detective, who was just in his dress shirt and tie now. The brief thought of how nice he looked crossed Simon’s mind, but he didn’t try to block it out like last time. He’d be dead soon. Why not just…enjoy himself?
Simon chuckled and leaned towards Bobby, fully laying against the detective’s chest. He tilted his head back and looked up at Fulbright, who looked down at him with a surprised expression. Blackquill smirked and laughed a little more. Bobby responded with his flashy smile and his own laugh, which the prosecutor had to admit was growing on him.
The detective began to pull the brush through the tangled mess of Simon’s hair. “Just let me know if it hurts.”
“I enjoy the pain.” Blackquill said in a low voice and half-lidded eyes. He was honestly just trying to mess with Fulbright, and it seemed to work. The detective’s eyes widened and he started to laugh, but Simon could tell he was a tad flustered as Fulbright’s face grew a little red.
“Prosecutor Blackquill. Don’t make me use the Jolt of Justice!”
“Please. I dare you.” Simon smirked, still laying his head against Bobby’s chest and looking up at him.
“Maybe I shouldn’t.” The detective chuckled nervously. He pulled Blackquill up into a sitting position. “It’s hard to brush your hair when you’re lying at that angle.”
“Fair enough, Fool Bright.” The prosecutor was letting himself have fun. He now had someone who would exchange banter with him and not legitimately hate him. Simon sat so that the detective would have better access to his long hair, to which Fulbright began brushing it again. He was obviously trying to be careful. Simon genuinely appreciated it.
Fulbright started to hum to the prosecutor. Blackquill hadn’t felt this calm in ages. He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, feeling his muscles relax.
The two sat there, Bobby carefully brushing out the tangles in Simon’s hair, and Simon letting him do so. After a while, Fulbright finished getting the knots out for the prosecutor, setting the brush down.
“How do you feel?” The detective asked with a smile. Simon turned around to look at Bobby, their eyes meeting in a silent gaze that went on for a few moments longer than would be necessary.
“...Happy,” was the prosecutor’s reply.