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"I know you don't think that I think of the things that you say 'fore / I turn around and say 'buddy it's okay' / And I know you don't think I could understand / Why there's a lifetime of pain behind bright shining eyes"
- Nana Grizol, "The Idea That Everything Could Possibly Ever Be Said"
They don’t end up all going to Eldoon’s, is the thing.
Between finalizing Blackquill’s release paperwork, Aura’s arrest, and the absolute clusterfuck the exposure of an international spy has become, Edgeworth has too much to do tonight, and Blackquill’s not much better off. At first, Phoenix thinks Athena will go with them, but she gives Blackquill a hug tight enough to kill a man and lets them both leave without her. Pearls immediately heads off to catch the last train, citing some last minute homework assignment she needs to complete, but deep down Phoenix is pretty sure she was afraid of overstaying her welcome.
Too tired to argue against any of this, Phoenix decides it will just be the four of them who go—a tried and true WAA outing, as if this was just a normal trial. His wallet will appreciate less mouths to feed, at the very least.
And then, on their way out of the courthouse at last, Apollo drops like a sack of potatoes.
“Holy—” Phoenix steps forward, but Athena’s quick reflexes have already caught Apollo well before he could hit the ground.
“Polly!” Trucy cries.
“He’s fine!” Athena says as she hoists him upright and leans him against her shoulder. “He’s fine.”
Apollo’s eyes flick open, glassy. “Sorry—lightheaded,” he grumbles.
Phoenix helps Athena guide him to the ground. “Hey, that’s okay, let’s sit down—Trucy, can you call 911?”
“No, no, no,” Apollo insists. Beside Phoenix, Trucy tenses, unsure what to do. “I don’t need an ambulance.”
“Are you joking?”
Athena cuts in, “Boss, I believe him. Let’s just get out of here, please?”
Phoenix sneaks a glance up at Trucy, who has her phone out and is looking genuinely frightened. He sighs.
“Okay,” he relents. “Let’s go back to the Agency for now. When was the last time you ate?”
“Uh,” Apollo mumbles. “I have no idea.”
“Apollo!” Athena chides.
“That’s why I suggested going to Eldoon’s in the first place!”
“Alright, alright,” Phoenix sighs. “Let’s get some food in you, bud. But if you collapse on us like that again, I am getting you to the hospital.”
“Fine.”
“Are you sure?” Trucy pipes up in a small voice. Immediately, Athena winces—likely sensing fear in Trucy’s voice—and Apollo looks up at Trucy, eyes softening.
Phoenix follows his gaze. It’s a testament to either Trucy’s infallible trust in the three of them or the gravity of the situation, how plainly Trucy’s anxiety is apparent on her face and in the set of her shoulders and in the way she still has her phone in a vice grip. Phoenix is so used to her putting on airs in front of everyone except him (and even in front of him, sometimes) that he isn’t sure if he should call this progress or a dire omen.
“I’m alright, Truce,” Apollo says before Phoenix can, voice gentle. “I promise.”
A beat passes during which Phoenix worries his daughter might start crying, but she seems to accept it and nods, visibly deflating.
Athena squeezes Apollo’s arm. “Let’s get you to the car,” she says to him, but her eyes are focused on Phoenix, mouth set in a thin line. Phoenix nods to her in understanding, and she hoists Apollo to his feet and leads him across the parking lot.
“Trucy, help your old man up, would you?” Phoenix says, hands out.
Trucy giggles weakly and takes both of his hands in her gloved ones. “Poor Daddy,” she teases as she tugs, though her smile doesn’t reach her eyes.
Phoenix makes an undignified noise as he rises to his feet, and it’s only half an exaggeration to amuse his daughter. It doesn’t really work, besides.
“Sweetheart, hey,” he whispers, keeping a grip on her hand before she can scurry away toward Athena’s car. She looks up at him, eyes wide. “Is everything alright?”
Trucy swallows thickly and looks away.
“Okay, I know, silly question,” Phoenix murmurs as he rubs his thumb over her knuckles. “But it’s going to be okay now, kiddo. Everyone is safe. We’ll go home and have dinner and then you’ll feel better, alright?”
Warily, Trucy nods. “I’m just worried about Polly,” she whispers.
“I know. We’ll take good care of him.”
“You don’t still think he should go to the hospital?”
Phoenix sighs. “To tell you the truth, if I had my way, I’d at least take him back to the clinic to get all of his bandages redressed and maybe another IV. But I won’t force him to go unless I think it’s a real emergency, and I don’t think that’s where we’re at yet. Did you notice something I missed?”
Trucy shakes her head. “Nothing. Can we go now, Daddy? They’re waiting.”
“Okay, okay. Let’s get going. I love you, okay? It’ll be alright.”
“I love you too.”
Phoenix wraps an arm around her shoulders and walks her to the car.
He climbs in the passenger’s seat and Trucy slides into the backseat next to Apollo, who might be half asleep. Clay’s jacket now lies discarded reverently in his lap and Athena’s teal windbreaker is wrapped around his shoulders instead. The thumb of one hand runs idly over the hem of the jacket, and Trucy reaches to hold the other; Apollo barely even reacts.
“He said he was cold,” Athena whispers when she catches Phoenix watching the pair of them through the rearview mirror. She puts the car in drive and pulls out of her parking space. “Clay’s jacket has Apollo’s blood on it.”
Phoenix winces. That’s right, he was wearing it when Tonate attacked him.
“Hey, you awake back there, Apollo?” he asks over the din of traffic.
“No,” Apollo mumbles.
“I’ll help you with your bandages when we get back, okay?” Athena adds. “You have the supplies, right?”
“In my bag.”
“Good! No extra stops needed, then.”
Phoenix casts another glance at the backseat through the mirror. Apollo’s eyes are still closed, but he’s absently brushing Trucy’s knuckles with his thumb. It’s not clear if he has any idea he’s even doing it, but Trucy looks just the slightest bit less anxious. He imagines what Trucy’s reaction would have been had they actually ended up putting Apollo in another ambulance, and is relieved when Trucy catches his eye in the mirror and gives him a little smile. He smiles back and turns to the window, watching the city pass by.
When they reach the Agency, Trucy runs ahead to open the door while Phoenix and Athena help Apollo get up the stairs without tripping and cracking his head open. Phoenix hangs onto his bag and brings up the rear while Athena supports Apollo as he takes the stairs one at a time. It’s a miracle he made it through the past few days on his own, Phoenix thinks. But it looks like that energy is fading, and fast.
Once inside, Trucy makes a beeline for the bathroom, citing that she feels dirty and gross, and they all hear the sound of the shower running moments later. Phoenix wants to go after her, but he has a feeling she scampered off specifically so he couldn’t fuss over her. He has to remind himself that she is getting older, and she needs her space to process things on her own.
Athena immediately guides Apollo to sit and begins working at the buttons of his waistcoat. He starts batting at her hands at first, but relents when he realizes his fingers are too clumsy. Clay’s jacket is already draped over the back of the couch behind him.
“I don’t want her to see me like this,” Apollo is saying under his breath as he undoes his tie.
“Let’s patch you back up before Trucy comes back, then,” Athena says to him, and that perks up Phoenix’s ears.
“Do you even know what you’re doing?” Apollo says nervously.
“More or less. I’ve taken first aid.” Athena pauses, then, halfway through unbuttoning Apollo’s dress shirt. Her voice drops low. “Hey. If you’re not comfortable with me helping, I don’t have to. I just don’t want you to have to do it all yourself.”
A beat passes. Then Apollo slips one arm out of his dress shirt and lets it fall from his shoulder, exposing the white undershirt underneath. “I trust you,” he says quietly, and holds out his arm toward her.
They barely seem aware he’s even in the room, and Phoenix suddenly feels oddly voyeuristic, so he makes himself scarce changing out of his suit and tie into casualwear. When he comes back, Athena gives him a smile as she’s helping Apollo apply antiseptic ointment to his injuries. Apollo keeps wincing, but he’s letting Athena take care of him, and the relief Phoenix feels is so immense he almost falls to the floor right then and there.
Instead of doing that, he stretches his back with faux nonchalance and says, “I’m going to make a run to Eldoon’s and hope he’s willing to cook us up something to go even though it’s so late. Think you two can hold down the fort while I’m gone? Maybe, uh, keep an ear out for Trucy?”
“You got it, boss!” Athena chirps. “You can count on my ears!”
“Wouldn’t dream of letting anything happen to her, Mr. Wright,” Apollo says in a tight voice. It makes Phoenix’s heart swell with pride.
“Good. I won’t be long!” Phoenix slips on his jacket and shoes and excuses himself from the Agency. The night is growing cold and crisp, the streets near devoid of life at this hour. The streetlamps in People Park shine like beacons in the distance, and the city rises up like glowing spires beyond. He makes the short trek down the road with his hands in his pockets, and finds Eldoon’s cart stationed outside his home. The cart is shuttered, but the light is still on in the tiny storefront, though as Phoenix approaches the counter he can see Eldoon stacking bowls in the back as if intending to close up for the night.
“Hey, there, Mr. Eldoon,” he calls. The man turns with a start and scrambles up to the counter when he sees Phoenix.
“Mr. Wright,” he says, “what on earth are you doing out here at this hour?”
Phoenix rubs the back of his neck. “Just got back from the courthouse, actually. Think you could scrape together four bowls to go for me? I know it’s late—”
“Say no more,” Eldoon says with a wave of his hand. “I’d be happy to do what I can. You look like you need it.”
Phoenix could cry. “Really? Thank you so much. I just—None of us have eaten dinner, and it’s been a very long day.”
“Of course, of course, I saw the news.” Eldoon turns to the kitchen and heats up the stove. “You wanted four orders, is it? So if I understand you right, Pollo’s with you?”
“...He is, yeah. He’s hanging in there. You heard about what happened?”
“Well, that bombing was all over the news! Soon as I heard his name, I started to get worried for my best customers.” Eldoon shrugs. “Trucy-doll came tearing past my stand the other afternoon all in a tizzy, crying something about having to get to the hospital right away. I gave her some water and tried to get her to sit down a minute, but she went scampering off.” Eldoon shakes his head.
Something in Phoenix warms at the notion that there are people keeping an eye out for Trucy even when he cannot. He was already at the hospital himself when Trucy got out of school that day, half-delirious and hysterical himself, with Athena sitting dazed and devastated at his side.
“Well, not sure how much I can say publicly right now,” Phoenix says, “but everyone’s safe now, at least. Apollo’s a little dizzy, but we’re going to get some food in him and we’ll all get some sleep, hopefully.”
Eldoon points his wooden spoon at him. “If I were you, I wouldn’t let that boy out of my sight. Some good salty broth ought to help, though. Keep him hydrated. He concussed?”
“Oh yeah, he is. Been working himself sick anyway.”
Eldoon tuts in disapproval as he ladles soup into four takeout bowls. “You keep an eye on him for me, then, and make sure he rests.” He snaps lids onto each container and stacks them in a bag. “Can’t have anything happen to him. After all, I still owe him and Trucy-doll for finding my stand.”
Phoenix chuckles. “That was more than a year ago, Mr. Eldoon.”
With a wink, Eldoon passes Phoenix the bag. “And it’s a debt I’ll never truly repay.”
Smiling, Phoenix pulls out his wallet to pay for the food, but Eldoon stops him, pushing his hand away.
“No, no, no, Mr. Wright!” he chides. “It’s on me tonight.”
“Wh—Are you sure?” Phoenix balks, eyes wide. “At least let me tip you for staying out so late for our sake.”
Eldoon shakes his head vehemently, waving a hand dismissively. “No, no, I insist. Consider it a get-well gift, or a reward for a job well done.”
“If you’re certain.” Phoenix pockets his wallet and makes to leave, steaming bag in hand laden with fragrant broth. “Thank you so much, Mr. Eldoon. For all of it.”
“Of course,” Eldoon says. “Now get out of here.”
Laughing, Phoenix double-times it back home.
"And I know that it's not what you wanted me to do / What do I want? I wish that I knew"- Nana Grizol, "The Idea That Everything Could Possibly Ever Be Said"
He hesitates to say it, at first.
Even after they’ve had their meal and they’re all—Apollo especially—visibly drooping with exhaustion, Phoenix second guesses his own instincts. There’s a part of him, buried somewhere beneath the paternal instincts and the protectiveness and the savior complex Maya tells him he has, that knows he’s failed to be the person Apollo wants or needs him to be.
Apollo’s a young adult with strict boundaries and a cagey disposition, and so Phoenix has made something of an effort in the past year to maintain a professional relationship with him—which hasn’t been easy from the get-go, given how horrifically he failed the kid the year prior. But lately—as in, the past few days to a week—it’s been harder and harder not to toe that line, Apollo’s implicit distaste for him be damned. Keeping that distance is partly what got them into this mess; perhaps things would have played out differently had Phoenix involved himself a little sooner, actually insisted they talk things out even if it made Apollo kick up a fuss, before things got so out of hand.
Apollo nearly nods off where he sits, and Phoenix remembers unbidden the nights he himself spent on the couch in this very building because he wasn’t feeling well and he was too scared to be home alone because he kept thinking about that poisoned medicine and he needed Mia to talk him down and he just—
He can’t let Apollo go through anything like that alone. So he plays his hand and hopes his gamble doesn’t fail him when it counts.
“I think you should stay here tonight.”
Apollo shifts awkwardly in his seat. “N-No, that’s okay, Mr. Wright, I’ll be fine,” he says, like a liar.
“Are you sure? I won’t force you—I don’t want to make you uncomfortable—but I really don’t think you should be left alone tonight.”
“I agree with Mr. Wright,” Athena chimes in as she slurps up the last of her broth. Apollo scowls, betrayed. “You’re a fall risk right now, and the last thing we need is you conking your head while you’re home alone.”
“But I was already home alone last night and I was fine!” Apollo insists, and out of the corner of his eye Phoenix sees Trucy narrow her eyes at him. Apollo glances at her and squirms. That’s all the evidence Phoenix needs.
“Apollo,” he says in his firmest, kindest tone, “it’s really late, we’re all exhausted, and you really should have somebody monitoring you, just for tonight.”
“I’m not sleeping on that couch, Mr. Wright.”
Trucy brightens, finally, and says, “You can have my bed, Polly! I don’t mind bunking with Daddy for the night, even if he snores!”
Atta girl, Trucy, Phoenix thinks when Apollo’s shoulders slump in defeat.
“If you really don’t want to, I’ll drive you home,” Athena says. “But if I do, I’m staying over to keep an eye on you.”
But an extra push from Athena wasn’t necessary; Apollo lost this fight the moment Trucy gave him that look. Relatable.
“Okay, okay, fine,” he huffs. “I’ll stay. But only so I don’t have to deal with the stairs again!”
Trucy cheers and tears off with a promise to straighten up her room a bit and make her bed so he can sleep. Athena offers to clean up from dinner. That leaves Phoenix to dig through his dresser for something for Apollo to sleep in; there’s no way he can sleep in his court attire, and he won’t want to lounge around his place of employment in his t-shirt and boxers in the morning.
He opts for a plain t-shirt and some sweatpants with a drawstring and hopes that will suffice. After a few minutes, he makes his way to Trucy’s room. He finds Apollo there, stood still beside the bed like he’s still buffering.
“Pollo? Brought you some sleepwear,” Phoenix says. “Everything okay?”
Apollo jolts to attention and just blinks at him. “O-Oh, thanks,” he says, accepting the bundle of clothes. “I’m fine, just really tired.”
“Time to get some sleep, then. Is there anything else you need?”
Apollo’s fingers clench around the soft fabric in his hands. “No, I kind of just… want to be left alone?” He shifts in place. “I want to sleep.”
“Okay, I won’t hover. If you need anything later, you know where to find me. Sleep tight.” Phoenix makes for the door. He hears a quiet thanks behind him just before he clicks it shut. He lumbers down the hall with his energy sapped, soaking in the strange quiet that’s fallen over the Agency.
“Mr. Wright? I’m going to head out.” Athena is stood by the front door, keys already in hand as she puts on her windbreaker.
Phoenix frowns. “You sure? You’re welcome to crash here too. It’s after midnight.”
Athena shakes her head. “Simon’s going to sleep at my place tonight, so I’m going to go pick him up. Besides, I promised Apollo I’d go check on his cat, so I’d better do that beforehand.” She smiles. “I’ll be back tomorrow, though! Maybe I’ll bring him a change of clothes, too!”
“Atta girl, Thena,” Phoenix says with a smile of his own. He steps in front of her and places a hand on her shoulder. “Are you sure you’re okay, though?”
For a brief moment, Athena’s smile falters. Frizzy strands of hair frame her face like a halo, ponytail drooping. Her eyes are just as bloodshot as the rest of theirs, but in them is a light Phoenix didn’t know had been missing until it suddenly returned.
“To tell you the truth, I’m pretty worn out,” Athena admits lightly. “And if I think too much about everything that happened, it makes me want to cry. But, you know? It’s over now. I’ve been focused on saving Simon for seven years, and it’s finally over, and I don’t really know what to do with myself now… but I feel really free , Mr. Wright.”
At the look on Athena’s face, teary-eyed and exhausted but bright and radiant even under the dull office light, Phoenix nearly starts to cry himself. Instead, he pulls Athena into a hug, resting his chin on her head. He can’t help it. She’s so young—only 18, barely older than his own daughter—and yet she is perhaps the strongest person he knows. Stronger than anyone her age should have to be, that’s for certain.
“I’m proud of you, Athena,” he says softly.
Athena melts into the hug and squeezes him tight. “Thank you, boss. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Simon a long time ago. It was just… it felt like it was something I had to do on my own. Like it’d be safer.”
“No, no, I understand,” Phoenix insists. “Trust me, I understand.” He pulls back and pats her shoulder. “But seriously, if you need anything, give me a call. I know the past few days haven’t been easy.”
Athena tilts her head, fidgeting with her earring. “They haven’t, but I’m not the one you should probably worry about.”
Phoenix sighs long and deep. “I know. I’ll keep an eye on him.”
“Thanks, boss. You’re the best!”
That gets a chuckle out of Phoenix. “Alright, you drive safe, okay? Be careful.”
“Sir yes sir!”
Phoenix sees her off at the door and watches her go through the window until her tail lights disappear. The best, huh, he thinks. I don’t know about that one.
He turns to Charley in the corner. “What the hell am I doing?” he asks.
Charley, on account of being a plant, does not have an answer.
“Daddy? Are you okay?”
Phoenix lifts his head up with a start. Trucy is standing a few feet away, eyes sharp and hands tangled in the hem of her pajama shirt.
“Hey there, pumpkin,” Phoenix says softly, scrubbing the grit away from his tired eyes. “I thought you’d be in bed by now.”
“I was about to,” Trucy says. “I got anxious.”
“Do you want to come sit with me for a bit?”
“You didn’t tell me if you’re okay.”
“I’m okay, don’t you worry. I’m just tired and stressed.” Phoenix opens his arms wide in invitation. “C’mere, baby girl.”
Trucy darts forward and collapses into Phoenix on the couch, curling into his side. Phoenix tucks her under his arm and presses a kiss to the top of her head, damp from the shower.
“I’m okay, Daddy, really,” Trucy tries to insist with an attempt at a performer’s smile that he sees right through. Her fist is already wrapped tightly around one of the strings of his hoodie, fidgeting with it absently.
“Well, humor me,” Phoenix says, playing along. “You gave me a scare today and all I’ve wanted to do for hours is hold my daughter. Cut an old man some slack, huh?”
Trucy breathes out a little laugh, resting her head on her father’s shoulder, but it quickly fractures into a tiny sob instead.
“Oh, Truce,” Phoenix whispers, lounging back into the cushions and settling her on his chest. “You’re okay. I’m right here.”
“Daddy,” Trucy blubbers into his shirt. Her shoulders shake under Phoenix’s arm.
“That’s it, let it all out.” He presses another kiss to her crown. “There’s my girl.”
Trucy cries quietly, presumably to avoid alerting Apollo in the other room, which is very sweet of her but breaks Phoenix’s heart. He almost wishes she’d wail and sob loud enough to wake the dead, if it means an actual release.
“I thought she was gonna kill me,” Trucy whimpers, and scratch that, now Phoenix’s heart is breaking.
“Oh, sweetheart. You’re safe now, I promise. I was never going to let that happen.”
“I’m sorry I went off on my own, Daddy, I just—”
“No, no, shh. Shh, Trucy, it’s okay. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I was worried about Polly,” she sobs. “I thought I could talk to him and ask him to come home, but I-I couldn’t find him anywhere!”
Under Phoenix’s palm, Trucy’s heart flutters and pounds. He begins rubbing her back in a steady rhythm, up and down, to soothe her.
“It’s okay. He’s safe with us now, just in the other room. Athena’s safe, we’re all safe.”
“I was scared he was never gonna come back,” Trucy confesses. Phoenix holds her tighter, uncaring for the wet spot she’s leaving on his hoodie. “He was so… so different, I could barely get a read on him, and he wouldn’t even talk to me! I-I thought Ms. Blackquill was gonna hurt me or take me away forever and no one would ever find me and Athena would go to jail and Polly would never come back—”
“Okay, okay, shh, deep breaths. Deep breaths, Trucy baby.” Phoenix exhales long and slow, free hand running through Trucy’s hair. “First, I am never, ever going to let someone take you away forever. I will always, always come back for you, no matter what. You’re safe here.
“Second, I was never going to let Athena get convicted, either. Apollo trusted me to do that even when he was full of doubts himself.” He punctuates this with another kiss. “And in the end, we all left that courthouse together, yeah?”
“But Daddy,” Trucy hiccups. “H-He’s still really hurt, and he doesn’t fully trust us yet, and something’s still wrong .”
“Oh, sweetpea, I know. I know. He’s going through a lot, okay? And… And I haven’t always been the most reliable mentor for him. But I’m going to keep trying, and I’m not going to let anything bad happen to him.”
“Daddy, what if he dies?”
“Baby, he’s not going to die.”
“You don’t know that!”
“Yes, I do. He just needs rest, you know that.” Phoenix casts a glance down the hall. “Do you want to go see him, so you can feel sure?”
Trucy shakes her head. “Don’t wanna wake him. I just want everything to be okay.”
“It will all be okay soon, Truce. I know you’re scared. It’s been a long few days, huh?”
A breathy laugh escapes Trucy’s lungs, half-desperate. “I’m so tired, Daddy.”
“Me too, lovebug. But you know what? You’re so brave. You helped keep everybody calm even though you were scared. You’re the greatest kiddo in the world.” Phoenix hoists his daughter so her head rests under his chin, then leans down and kisses her temple. “But you’re safe with me, with us. I know you’re getting to be all grown up now and you don’t need your old man to coddle you anymore, but you just let me hold you until you don’t feel so anxious, alright? No need to pretend.”
Trucy relaxes her full weight into him like a sailor washing ashore, sniffling and whimpering as she wriggles herself into a comfortable position. Phoenix holds her against his side with ease, even though she’s sixteen now and getting taller everyday, it seems. For now, she still fits tucked under his arm, head resting over his heart and small hand clenching and unclenching around the string of his hoodie in a frantic rhythm that eventually syncs up with his own pulse.
“I’m very proud of you, you know that?” he whispers as he rubs her back.
Trucy hums, eyes drooping. Her rabbiting little heart begins to slow, calming until he can no longer feel it beating through the back of her pajamas. She’s a good kid, his Trucy; his little girl, his moon and stars, his light. It’s no thanks to him, sometimes—she’s patient, perhaps more patient than he deserves.
But despite his failings, he’s still able to soothe her to sleep and comfort her when she’s scared. As he lets his own eyes slip shut, he allows himself to be a little proud of that, just this once.
Sometime in the middle of the night, Phoenix wakes to the sound of stifled crying, blinking to immediate alertness like a sleeper agent. His first thought is Trucy, I need to get to Trucy, I need to know if she’s okay—
But Trucy is fast asleep under his arm with her head pillowed on his chest. She’s out like a light, features soft and breath coming out in tiny puffs of hot air against Phoenix’s clavicle. His immediate relief is quickly replaced by a new concern: If Trucy is perfectly alright, then there’s only one other person in the Agency—who, incidentally, has very good reason to sound so much like her—who could be crying like that.
With extreme caution, Phoenix sits up on the couch and hoists his daughter up into his arms. He carries her off to bed just like he did when she was little, though it’s getting harder and harder every day as she grows up and his back gets worse. Just like back then, she doesn’t so much as stir, fingers still wrapped loosely around his hoodie string. He takes Trucy to his own room and tucks her into bed with a kiss on the forehead, and then he hurries back into the hall to follow the sound that woke him.
He encounters Apollo en route to the kitchen, slinking through the near-blackness on trembling legs, shoulders heaving. Apollo moves as quietly as possible on socked feet, like a ghost in his own place of work.
“Apollo?” Phoenix beckons quietly. Apollo freezes in his tracks and turns to him, eyes wide and glistening with tears even in the dim light.
“M-Mr. Wright,” he says. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know you were still up—Or, unless I woke you, in which case—”
Phoenix shakes his head. “I was up. I just got Trucy into bed. What’s going on, you okay?”
“It’s—I’m fine, I was just getting some water.”
“Here, let me get it for you,” Phoenix insists more so than offers, placing a steadying hand on Apollo’s shoulder and steering him into the kitchen.
“O-Okay…”
You can do this , Phoenix thinks to himself. He’s lulled his daughter off to sleep, now he just has to soothe his daughter’s half-brother.
…Who doesn’t know he’s her half-brother. And who’s also Phoenix’s employee. It’s normal and not at all complicated and messy. Get ahold of yourself, Phoenix. You knew that from the start , he thinks. You made your bed, now lie in it.
He fixes Apollo a glass of water by nothing by the city’s artificial glow spilling through the window. It casts a sickly pallor on Apollo’s tear-streaked face; illuminates the shaking of his bandaged hands. Phoenix opts for plastic, not trusting the poor kid’s trembling fingers with anything fragile at the moment.
“Thanks,” Apollo whispers into the cup.
“Of course.” Phoenix sidles closer, trying to get a good look at Apollo’s injuries. He’s not bleeding anywhere, which is good, and his pupils look normal, which means Phoenix doesn’t need to put him in an ambulance. Fatherly instinct takes over and he presses the back of his hand to Apollo’s forehead: no sign of a fever, so no infection. Good.
“Um,” Apollo says.
“Sorry,” Phoenix says, even though he isn’t sorry. “Just checking. What’s wrong? I honestly thought you’d sleep through the night, you were so exhausted.”
Apollo shrugs, eyes downcast. “Pain meds wore off.”
“Do you need another dose?”
“Already took it. Just waiting for it to kick in so I can go back to sleep.”
“Oh.” Phoenix’s heart twists at the mental image of Apollo the night before, crying from pain and grief alone in his apartment while waiting for his meds to work, and then getting up in the morning and investigating on his own while freshly concussed, and then spending all evening in court, all while consumed by horrible doubt and paranoia. “Why don’t we sit down and talk, then, until you start to feel better.”
Apollo gives him a wary look. “What is there to talk about?”
“Come on, don’t be obtuse.”
“I’m not, I just don’t want to talk about it.” Apollo sets his empty cup on the table and scowls. One hand comes up to rub his chest in a self-soothing motion—he’s probably still achy from smoke inhalation and bruised ribs. “I don’t want to talk about today, or how I shouldn’t have checked myself out of the hospital, or how sad I am. I just want to go to sleep and never think about any of it again.”
“Sit with me anyway?” Phoenix pleads with a watery smile he hopes is disarming. “I’d feel better if you at least weren’t holed up by yourself in all that pain.”
“...Fine,” Apollo mumbles. He lets Phoenix usher him back to the couch, the same couch where he and Trucy were sleeping just minutes before. Phoenix sits on the other end, with as much space between them as possible.
“To be honest, Apollo, I don’t know how you did it,” he says. “The amount of adrenaline it must have taken for you to even stay upright would give most people a heart attack.”
“It wasn’t just adrenaline, it was mostly morphine,” Apollo retorts with a weak laugh.
Phoenix snorts. “Even better. Seriously, though, you’ve had me pretty worried.”
Apollo bristles, hands clutching his elbows. “I know it was stupid. I told you I really don’t want to talk about it.”
“I know what you said,” Phoenix says calmly. “I’m not trying to make you feel bad. I just really need you to know that I care. That whole time, we were all concerned about your health and your emotional state far more than we were angry with you.”
Apollo says nothing, wiping his tears with his bandages.
“But thank you for getting up there and helping me finish things, Apollo. And I’m happy you trusted me enough to get us all through—I know I haven’t always made it easy.”
“...It’s not trust, really,” Apollo admits. “I couldn’t fully trust Athena, so I couldn’t fully trust you. But I had faith that if anyone could turn things around, it’d be you. I didn’t even care how. I don’t know if that even makes sense.”
What is faith without doubt , Apollo had said during the trial. It was that faith, not blind trust, that led Phoenix to the truth. He learned many, many years ago that having faith in your client is not the same as trusting everything they say. He supposes it’s only fair that the same should be said about himself.
“It makes perfect sense, kid,” he says softly. “I won’t make you talk anymore, I know your head hurts and you’re tired. I just wanted to make sure you knew.”
Apollo gives him a relieved look and slumps into the couch, clearly struggling to stay sitting up. Phoenix lets him go quiet; even though his instincts scream at him to comfort Apollo as much as possible, pushing his boundaries and making him feel uncomfortable and skittish is too much of a risk.
After a while, Apollo’s face crumples again, and he breaks down weeping.
“Woah, woah!” Phoenix says in a near whisper. “Apollo, buddy, what’s wrong?”
“Mr. Wright, I-I’m so sorry,” Apollo croaks. “I just—something is so wrong with me. I’ve been out of my mind, and I’m so, so sorry—”
“Hey, it’s okay, you’ve been grieving. And you had every reason to be suspicious. I think it’s a good thing that you tried to find your own path to the truth instead of just blindly following whatever I think is right.” Phoenix scoots closer and places a hand on Apollo’s shoulder. “I mean, I’d have preferred that we sit down and talk it out instead, but again, grief.”
“Still, I just—I don’t get you, Mr. Wright. All that and you still… You wanted me up there at the defense bench with you.” Apollo covers his face with his hands. “I’d have fired me.”
Ah, we’re doing this now, Phoenix thinks. So much for not wanting to talk.
“Listen to me, Apollo,” he says firmly. “You and I both know that just because you work with someone doesn’t mean they aren’t capable of some sinister shit. Of course you’re gonna take that to heart, and you’re gonna look at the facts and see where they lead you. And at the end of the day, when you didn’t know where else to turn, you looked to me to help you get to the truth, which is really all I can ask for. Like I said, rough approach, but we stuck the landing. I can’t fault you for that.
“Maybe a different boss would have fired you over this, I don’t know. But that’s not how I operate.” He squeezes Apollo’s shoulder. “I don’t want a loyal lapdog who does things my way without question. Maybe I gave you the impression that I did, with the way I kept jerking you around last year, but that was shitty of me. It was scummy, the way I treated you. I don’t want to ever make you feel like that again, Apollo. I swear I’m going to try. But we’re going to have to meet each other halfway, and that means we have to talk about this stuff.”
A beat passes. Apollo blinks up at him, brown eyes wide and red-rimmed, glistening. His small frame is dwarfed by his borrowed shirt, and it makes him look even younger. It strikes Phoenix again just how much he looks like Trucy, curled in on himself on the couch, shivering under Phoenix’s palm.
“...I miss him,” Apollo whispers like a confession, tears spilling over his waterline. “And it really, really hurts.”
“Oh, kid. I know.” At last, Phoenix does what he’s been aching to do for the past few days and wraps his arms around Apollo’s shaking shoulders, drawing him close. He moves slowly, to give Apollo time to push him away if the gesture is unwanted, but Apollo immediately returns the embrace, huffing out a quiet sob. Phoenix coaxes him to rest his head on his shoulder, hand hovering protectively over the tender spot where the wound from his assault is scabbing over.
“I don’t—I thought I screwed up so bad that I’d ruined my own life,” Apollo sniffles, quickly breaking off into a series of dry coughs. “I thought I’d lost everyone, right after losing Clay—”
“Shh, hey, take it easy. You’re not going to get rid of us that easily, Apollo.” Phoenix begins rubbing his back. “Trucy was beside herself trying to find a way to bring you home.”
“Nothing about either of you makes any sense,” Apollo insists hoarsely once his coughing subsides. “This is the most unprofessional workplace ever. I told myself I wouldn’t get too close and then you just had to go and—I just don’t—Why’d you do any of this for me?”
“Maybe it’d be ‘professional’ if I just shipped you off to the hospital or sent you home and left you there alone. Maybe! But… I don’t want to be that guy, Apollo.” Phoenix lets out a sigh, shutting his eyes against the wave of grief that passes over him even more than a decade later. “Mia was my boss, sure, but she was also my mentor, and more than anything else, she was my friend. She’d take me out for drinks after a trial, she’d give me advice, she’d hug me when I was upset or stressed or panicking.
“Doing all of that was more important to her than keeping up some pretense of professionalism. I’d have crashed and burned if she hadn’t. So, get used to it. You can set whatever boundaries you need to with me, and I’ll respect that, but if you think that means I’m just going to keep my distance for the sake of it when you clearly need my help, you’ve got another thing coming. That’s just how it’s gonna be.”
Apollo pulls back from the hug, glassy-eyed and sniffling. Phoenix keeps a hand on his shoulder, moving his thumb back and forth in a soothing motion.
“Pollo? You okay?”
Apollo nods weakly. His lower lip trembles as he chokes out, “Thanks, Mr. Wright. I don’t know what else to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything,” Phoenix assures him. “Just listen. I want you to take as much time as you need to recover from now on, okay? You can stay here if you need, or come by whenever you’d like, but I don’t want you working. We’re not going to take any cases until the new year, and Athena and I can handle all of the paperwork from the trial, alright?”
“But… But Mr. Wright!” Apollo squeaks.
“But nothing, Apollo,” Phoenix says, accidentally slipping into his dad voice. He softens his tone deliberately. “It’s not a punishment. I just want you to rest up and focus on processing everything. You’re going to be far worse off later if you don’t let yourself heal properly, physically and emotionally.”
“...Fine, you’re right.”
“I’m always Wright!”
Apollo scoffs. “Shut up,” he says wetly.
Phoenix laughs. It’s a relief, the way Apollo’s somber expression finally cracks. It’s good to see him grumbling and complaining about Phoenix’s terrible dad jokes instead of bawling or shutting down completely.
“How do you feel?” he asks. On impulse, he absently brushes a lock of soft brown hair out of Apollo’s eyes. It’s starting to get long.
“Um, I think my meds are starting to work,” Apollo says softly, almost sheepishly.
“That’s good. Are you ready to go back to bed?”
“I don’t know. I’m kind of dizzy.”
Phoenix sighs. “You really need to get some sleep. How about I help you up?”
Apollo shakes his head. “I-I can do it. Just give me a second.”
“Apollo, this is the part where you stop being stubborn,” Phoenix murmurs, offering an arm to help him up. “Meet me halfway on this?”
A beat passes. Apollo worries his chapped lip between his teeth, caught between clamming up and reaching out. Phoenix is patient, despite the sleep deprivation-induced headache brewing behind his eyes, and after a few moments Apollo finally, blessedly, grabs onto his arm.
“There we go—Oh, easy, easy,” Phoenix whispers as he steadies Apollo when he immediately stumbles. His hand again comes up to shield the back of Apollo’s head. “You okay?”
Apollo nods, even as he’s white knuckling Phoenix’s sleeve. Phoenix slings the other arm around his back to support him, and carefully they make their way to Trucy’s room.
There’s something surreal about it, putting Apollo to bed on Trucy’s twin mattress, when only he knows about their relation. There are Trucy’s belongings strewn about, of course, but it’s Apollo who gingerly tucks himself under the covers, Apollo’s phone plugged in on Trucy’s desk, Apollo’s meds sitting out on the nightstand, and strangely, it all doesn’t seem as out of place as it should.
Not that Phoenix comments on it, or really stops to think about it for more than a cursory second. Both would be a bad idea when a human lie detector is staring him down, even one currently dizzy and exhausted from a concussion.
“Okay,” Phoenix says softly. “I’ll get you some more water, but is there anything else I can get you before I hit the hay?”
“No,” Apollo rasps, the hint of a smile gracing his face. “Just water, please.”
“Sure thing. Gimme just a sec.” Phoenix pads back out to the kitchen and immediately hunches over the sink, head in his hands.
It has to be a miracle that he hasn’t fucked this up to hell and back. After seven years of bumbling his way through fatherhood and almost two of bumbling his way through mentorhood somehow even more poorly, one would think he’d have it together. But it’s not so different from court, really—no matter how much he’s learned, how keen his instincts, how poised he appears behind the bench, half of his success comes from well-timed bluffs. From knowing when to play his cards, and when to fold.
If there’s one thing being a single parent has taught him, though, even more than being a lawyer has, it’s that he cannot throw in the towel when things get tough. No matter how much he stumbles or puts his foot in his mouth, he has to keep trying. The only time a lawyer can cry is when it’s over, and all that.
So Phoenix doesn’t cry. Instead, he picks himself up, refills the plastic cup, and returns to Apollo’s side.
Apollo is sprawled out with his eyes shut when Phoenix comes in, mouth parted slightly and brow smooth. At first, Phoenix thinks he’s completely out, but when he sets the glass down on the nightstand, a ragged voice mumbles, “Thanks, Mr. Wright.”
Phoenix chuckles. “Of course. Now, try to get some rest for me, alright? If you need anything, you come wake me. Or give me a holler.”
“Mm. ‘Kay.”
With a private smile, Phoenix gently tousles his hair and turns to leave. “Goodnight, Apollo.”
Apollo makes a noise that sounds like an affirmative. Phoenix huffs in quiet laughter, fond, and eases the door closed behind him.
When he finally makes it to his own bed, Trucy has cocooned herself in all of the covers. No matter; Phoenix sheds his hoodie and lays down beside her. As if on instinct, a sleepy hand emerges from the cocoon and stretches toward Phoenix. He reaches for his daughter, blankets and all, and tucks her under his chin. Trucy grips the back of his shirt, and he holds her close, breathing softly against his chest, warm, until he finally falls into a deep sleep.
"I know you don't think that you are half as good / As the people who do just the things that they should / But we follow our own paths, gotta do some trailblazing / A minute of movement for a year of stargazing"- Nana Grizol, "The Idea That Everything Could Possibly Ever Be Said"
Phoenix sleeps for hours, and does not dream. Trucy must have disabled his alarm, because when he next wakes, the sun is already streaming through his bedroom window. Still floaty, he shuts his eyes again and listens to the voices beyond the room, the jangle of keys in the front door.
“---up early. Where’s the boss?”
“Daddy’s still in bed, sleeping like a baby.”
“Really? That’s not like him even on a day off, is it?”
“Ugh, it’s my fault, I think. I got up in the middle of the night and he stayed up with me for a while.”
“I fell asleep on him on the couch, so his back probably hurts, too.”
“ Mon dieu. Sounds like you two need some more sleep, too.”
“I slept a ton!”
“Yeah, somehow I actually feel a lot better. My head’s stopped spinning.”
“Good, I was worried about you last night.”
“How’s Prosecutor Blackquill?”
“Oh, Simon’s doing okay. I think he’s still half riding the victory high and half in shock? I dropped him off at the Prosecutor’s Office this morning on my way here. He told me to tell you he says he hopes you’re both okay.”
“Aww, how nice of him!”
“I can’t imagine what he must be feeling. Seven years is a long time.”
“That’s true, Polly…”
(Phoenix drags himself upright, scrubbing at his eyes.)
“Oh, I’m sure it’s going to get really hard. Chief Prosecutor Edgeworth apparently already recommended him a therapist.”
( Of course he did, Phoenix thinks fondly. He swings his legs over the side of the bed.)
“Hmm, that reminds me. I wonder if Uncle Miles is awake!”
(Phoenix stretches with a groan and stands up, then throws on his hoodie. That is the million dollar question, indeed. )
“Okay, but don’t call him, Truce. If he’s sleeping you’ll wake him, and if he’s awake he’s probably super busy.”
“But Polly, Uncle Miles always has time for me! ”
( It’s true. Phoenix pads over to the door and peeks out of his bedroom.)
“Yeah, but Apollo might be—oh, hey, boss! Good morning!”
Phoenix sighs. “Morning, you three.” He lumbers down the hall into the main room, and Trucy immediately clambers to her feet and throws her arms around him.
“Mornin’, Daddy!” she chimes.
“Hey there, Trucy-goose. Apollo, how are you feeling?”
From his spot on the couch, Apollo gives him an honest, genuine smile. “Better this morning, Mr. Wright.”
“Good. Let’s hope it stays that way.” Phoenix’s phone starts vibrating in his front pocket. He checks the caller ID, and—speak of the devil. He gestures with the phone and says, “It’s Edgeworth, let me take this and then we’ll see about breakfast, alright?”
He gets three shouts in the affirmative and slips into his room to take the call.
“Hey,” he says groggily into the phone, leaning against the dresser.
“Wright,” comes Miles’ voice. “Are you quite well?”
Phoenix snorts. “Do I sound that bad?”
“Terribly exhausted, mostly.”
“Right on the money, as always. I’m alright, I was just up super late with Trucy and then up again in the middle of the night with Apollo.”
“Are they okay?”
Phoenix smiles at the concern bleeding into his voice. “Yeah, more or less. They’re both far more upbeat this morning, which is good. Athena’s here too, and she’s all smiles.”
“I’d certainly hope so. It’s the dawn of a new day for her, after all. Despite everything.”
Despite everything. Phoenix’s heart aches. The bombings, Clay’s murder, the hostage crisis—but they solved the whole case, top to bottom. They caught the Phantom. It would be nice if Phoenix could feel totally good about it.
“Hey, Miles?”
“Hmm?” Miles makes a little noise of surprise at the use of his first name. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, I just… Do you think I’m fucking this up?” He runs a hand through his bedhead. “The whole mentor thing. I was always bad at the whole father thing—”
“You are not a bad father.”
“What?”
Miles huffs. “Parenting is not an easy task, and you have had your difficulties with it. But you are not a bad father. I can assure you of that.”
Phoenix chuckles wetly. Of course he’d know better than anyone. “And the mentor part?”
A beat. “Well, they trust you, don’t they?”
“Honestly, I don’t know. Athena, for sure. But Apollo? I don’t know. I think I might have screwed that one up for good a long time ago.”
Miles hums.
“I don’t know how you do it,” Phoenix admits. “Having all those people working under you. I mean, you’ve been at it for so much longer than I have.”
“The good detective would beg to differ, I assure you, based on my behavior in my twenties,” Miles drones. “Though I do understand your point. However, our paths have been quite different, haven’t they? And our strengths and weaknesses, besides. I assure you these things get easier with time.”
“So you don’t think I’ve ruined it?”
“Based on what I saw yesterday?” Miles’ voice softens. “No, I do not.”
“Thank you, Miles.” Phoenix takes a deep breath. “Hey, uh, everything alright on your end, then?”
Miles sighs. “Good grief.”
“That bad, huh? You sleep in your office last night?”
“...Perhaps.”
“Seriously? Do I need to call your sister on you?”
Miles scoffs. “Please, with the Phantom in custody I am already expecting her to appear on my doorstep with Interpol at any moment. There is so much work to be done here that at this point I might welcome it.”
“Are you going to be okay? Make sure you delegate, don’t overwork yourself.”
“Yes, yes. I appreciate your concern, Wright. It is simply going to be chaos around here for quite some time, but in the end I believe it will be worth it. Though I do worry about Prosecutor Blackquill. And between the Phantom case and the hostage case, of course, the amount of conflicts of interest I am required to wade through…” Miles trails off.
“Ah,” Phoenix says. “About the Aura Blackquill case—”
“The trial won’t be for a while, yet. Though I imagine your office intends to get involved.”
“Apollo will want to ensure she gets a fair defense, even though I want him on medical leave,” Phoenix muses. “Athena will probably insist on helping, despite everything. I just don’t know how Trucy is going to feel about the whole thing.”
“She gave the police a statement last night, of course, but she may still be asked to testify if need be. Is she going to be okay?”
Phoenix feels pride well up in his chest. “She’s a strong kid. This has all been really hard on her, but she’ll pull through. She’s just glad to have everyone back together and safe, now.”
“She and I both,” Miles says with an audible smile. “I will keep you updated to the extent that I can, but please do get some rest. I am once again indebted to you and your juniors for your help in this case. I know it was… painful, in ways I did not anticipate.”
“Hey, don’t worry about it. I owe you for stepping in last night so I could keep Trucy safe. Consider us even.” Phoenix hesitates, then adds, “And if there’s anything you need—even just to vent, or if you need someone to bring you dinner—just let me know, okay?”
“I will be alright. For now, just do what you do best, Wright.”
“And what’s that?”
“Reach out to those who are scared and alone, and believe in them,” Miles says gently. “And tell them everything is going to be alright, even if you have to bluff.”
It helps, to hear Miles say it.
“Thanks, Miles. I’m glad you called.”
“As am I. Take care.”
When the line goes dead, Phoenix makes his way back to the main room, an added spring in his step. There, he finds Athena already midway through placing an order on her phone for breakfast from the cafe down the street, angling the screen towards Apollo beside her on the couch. He’s gesturing at the phone with considerably less energy than usual, but his eyes still lack the haunted look they’ve had since the morning Clay died. Trucy is crammed in on his other side, head leaning on his shoulder. She’s half paying attention to whatever breakfast options they’re discussing, but the other half seems focused on Apollo’s face; she smiles every so often, as if repeatedly remembering that he is safe and alive and under their roof again at last.
None of them notice his arrival at first; Trucy and Athena are too laser-focused, and the ever-vigilant Apollo’s attention is understandably in short supply. But it’s no matter, really. It gives Phoenix a moment to watch them fondly from the doorway, with what he’s sure is a stupid smile on his face. They’re good kids, all three of them. Perhaps he hasn’t failed them yet. Perhaps it isn’t too late.
It’s the dawning of a new age, after all.