Work Text:
Simon’s reputation clung to him like a foul stench. He could feel every eye on him and hear every hushed whisper as he stalked towards the crime scene in the back corner of the parking garage. He thought his acquittal would’ve stopped everyone from thinking of him as a killer, but apparently, some rumours defied all logic and reason. He flexed his wrists just to remind himself they were still unbound.
It wasn’t a bad thing that his coworkers were scared of him, he reasoned. It kept them from getting too close.
The lead detective was one he hadn’t worked with previously – not that he had ever been afforded the luxury of working with the other detectives before, but he needed a new partner after recent events, and Ema Skye had drawn the short straw. When Simon approached her, he had expected her to cower and keep her distance like everyone else, but instead, she removed her pink sunglasses and looked him dead in the eye.
“You’re Prosecutor Blackquill, I take it?” Her gaze drifted to Taka on his shoulder. “That thing better not shed all over my crime scene.”
Her bluntness surprised him, but given the cop guarding the parking garage had trembled through their brief interaction, the attitude was still an improvement.
The slight against Taka irked him, however. He could tolerate attacks on his character, but Taka didn’t deserve it. “That ‘thing’ is my partner, and his presence is non-negotiable.”
“Fine.” Ema pulled a bag of snacks out of her purse and chomped them, brow furrowed. “Why can’t I ever be assigned someone normal?”
“‘Normal’ people are in short supply at the prosecutor’s office, so I’m afraid you’re stuck with the jailbirds.”
Ema snorted. “Fair enough. Your scary samurai schtick won’t be as annoying as the Fop’s sparkling ego, so I guess I shouldn’t complain.”
Was that supposed to be a compliment?
“Look. I know you want to get through this as painlessly as I do, so as long as you’re strictly professional and don’t ask me too many personal questions, we’ll be able to work together just fine.”
Simon thought of sanctimonious talks of rehabilitation, dripping with what he now understood was fake concern. The words ‘strictly professional’ were a gift.
“Likewise.”
“Good.” Ema waved for him to follow her. “Let me talk you through what we’ve found.”
Ema Skye was impertinent, brusque, and didn’t sugarcoat her opinions. She didn’t care what other people thought of her, and had no interest in diluting the more abrasive aspects of her personality to appear more palatable. If it wasn’t for her childlike glee for forensics, Simon might have thought she didn’t care about anything at all.
It was never difficult to tell what she was thinking when her face was an open book of disinterest, and her tongue was as sharp as her mind. Ema was a ‘what you see is what you get’ sort of person. He never had to wonder who she was, for she never tried to be anyone but herself.
Then again, he had said the same about Fulbright–... about The Phantom once too, and they all knew how that turned out.
“So are you a superfan of the Steel Samurai or something?”
Crouched beside the body’s outline, Simon lifted his gaze to Ema. For all she complained about Taka contaminating the crime scene, she had no problem dropping Snackoo crumbs all over the ground.
“Am I a fan of what?”
“Y’know. The Steel Samurai. Cool swords. Melodramatic dialogue. You would fit right in.”
Simon could only stare at her, incredulous. “...No, I can’t say I’m a fan of a cartoon for children.”
“Geez, you don’t have to sound so offended.” Ema crunched her snacks with surprising aggression, shoulders hunched.
It didn’t take a psychology expert to read between those lines. “...Are you a fan of the cartoon for children?”
“It’s not just for kids!” Ema exclaimed, waving her arms wildly and spraying him with even more crumbs. “It has a lot of deep themes about honour and justice, and redeeming oneself after a history of violence, and– It’s good! Lots of adults like it!”
“Right. And do these themes get explored before or after the lessons on sharing your toys with others?”
KATONK!
A Snackoo hit him on the side of his face. Simon had to grab Taka to stop him from pecking it off the ground.
What Simon appreciated about Ema was that she never asked him how he was coping. There was no walking on eggshells, no suggestions on how to reintegrate himself into society. The fact that he was a convict was something incidental to his identity, and not something she needed to help him overcome.
Even when things did turn personal, however, Ema didn’t pry or treat him like a project.
Their conversations were casual. Normal. Made him feel like a person.
She was opinionated but not arrogant, sympathetic but not patronising, and was passionate about her line of work in a way that was endearing rather than insufferable.
Ema was everything The Phantom wasn’t, and yet every time he looked at her, he couldn’t help but wonder when the mask was going to slip.
“You’re always doing that.”
“Doing what?”
“Touching your wrists like they feel naked.”
Simon instantly dropped his hands, which he feared was a more damning admission than anything he could have said. “Don’t be ridiculous.” He huffed. “I am simply… scratching them.”
“Right. My bad. I forgot the tough guy doesn’t have feelings.” Ema rolled her eyes and returned to flicking through the autopsy report, looking away from him. “My sister used to do the same thing when she first got out. She used to wear these big chunky bracelets because she couldn’t relax without a weight hanging around her wrists. She got over it though. Time heals all wounds or whatever.”
Simon could pick up on the reassurance for what it was, but it was indirect enough not to be too annoying. He looked through his own notes. “Did you read that on a fortune cookie?”
“Yeah, and right after that one, I got another fortune that said ‘beware of snarky assholes that think they’re funny’.”
The corner of Simon’s lip quirked up, just a little. “Charming.”
Simon understood that, logically, not every detective was out to get him. The Phantom was a fringe case – the exception not the rule. Just because he was betrayed once didn’t mean he was going to be betrayed again.
The problem was that, despite his best efforts, Simon liked Ema. They got along well. If his paranoid brain wasn’t so obsessed with looking for cracks where there weren’t any, he might have even considered her a friend.
He didn’t have many of those these days. Athena was constantly on his case about ‘putting himself out there’, but it was hard to open up when the one friend he did have while in prison had manipulated him and used him and pretended to be someone he wasn’t.
If Simon was naive enough to fall for the Phantom’s lies, then how could he be sure he wasn’t falling for Ema’s too?
At the end of the case, after His Honour had passed the final verdict and all of Simon’s post-trial debriefings had been complete, Ema met him in the prosecutor’s lobby.
“I suppose congratulations are in order. With your loss record, I wasn’t expecting much, but you really pulled through.”
Ema’s unique brand of backhanded compliments was familiar to him by now, and Simon rolled his eyes. “The defense was a blackguard. If they didn’t wish to be slain, then they never should have entered a duel with an unsharpened sword.” He gathered up his things and turned to face her. “You were not so terrible yourself, for a detective who has failed the forensics exam every time she has taken it.”
Ema shrugged. “Yeah, well, it helps that I got to work with a prosecutor who actually tells me everything about the case. Did you know The Fop once let me testify that a blind woman could see just because he wanted it to be a big dramatic reveal in court?”
Simon had no trouble believing it, given Klavier’s constant peacocking around the office. He could only imagine how much worse he would be in front of an audience. “Truly, no one has suffered more than you.”
“That’s what I’m saying!” Ema huffed and stuffed her hands into her pockets. “Anyway… next time you’re on a case and you’re looking for a detective, keep me in mind. I’d rather work with the asshole who knows he’s an asshole than the one who thinks he’s hot shit.”
Simon tensed. He searched Ema’s face for any sign of ulterior motives, but found nothing.
The Phantom was in prison, he reminded himself. The UR-1 incident was over. There were no more ghosts to haunt him but the ones he created for himself. Ema had nothing to gain from a partnership with him other than a colleague she found tolerable.
It would be safe to trust her. He only needed to take that leap of faith.
Simon forced his shoulders to relax. “I’ll let Edgeworth-dono know.”
Ema treated him to a small genuine smile for a moment before schooling her expression back into cool indifference. “It was a pleasure working with you, Prosecutor Blackquill.”
She held out her hand to shake.
“Likewise, Skye-dono.”
And Simon took it.