Part three of Metanoia.
This foolish country has no need to be so insufferably hot, Franziska thought as she trudged up the crushed gravel path to The Coffee Gourd. The sun blazed overhead, casting shimmering heat mirages across the dips and rises of the road and causing the leaves of the oaks and pepper trees to droop despondently. Not a hint of a breeze touched the park, leaving the lake hot and placid as a bowl of soup. Other than a few brilliant dragonflies darting at the surface of the water, Franziska was the only thing that moved. Were she at home in Munich, it would be a pleasantly cool 16° and overcast, and she wouldn't feel quite so silly in her long-sleeved shirt and thick skirt.
Franziska wondered idly if Adrian had planned better than she had. The foolish weatherman had promised it would be perfect autumn weather, so perhaps not, but then again, Adrian had lived in this crowded city her whole life, so perhaps she knew better than to expect cool weather in Los Angeles. It would explain her penchant for halterneck blouses, leaving her shoulders and back bare to avoid baking in the heat.
Franziska shook the thought from her mind. There was no point in wishing she'd dressed better for the weather when it was too late to change. She paused and wiped the sweat from her brow before cresting the hill, bringing the small coffee shop into view.
She spotted Adrian immediately, seated on a bench outside and scribbling something in her planner. The other woman hadn't, in fact, dressed more suitably, a wool scarf wrapped around her neck and a sweater hugging her slim form, leaving her red-faced and looking about a minute away from passing out. She had at least had the sense to pin up her hair to get it off her neck, but it likely didn't provide much relief.
At the sound of footsteps crunching on gravel, Adrian glanced up. For a moment, she still looked hot and tired, before a brilliant grin spread over her face.
"Franziska!" she exclaimed, clambering to her feet.
"It's good to see you, Adrian Andrews," she replied, smiling despite herself. She couldn't imagine how Adrian managed such boundless optimism after everything she'd been through, but it was refreshing nonetheless. "We can talk more when we're inside. I'm not spending another moment in this heat."
Adrian made a face.
"It is pretty awful," she agreed.
Franziska walked on ahead without looking back, pushing the door open. Adrian trailed along at her heels, footsteps so soft that Franziska could barely hear them, as if she were afraid to make any mark on the world. Not usually prone to flights of fancy, Franziska shook the thought from her head.
They placed their orders at the counter, picked up their coffees, and took a seat in the corner. The Coffee Gourd felt as if the proprietors had tried to make it cozy but instead created a cramped, awkward space, filled too much by Gourd Lake merchandise (only $9.99!) and an abundance of spare chairs. Tinny pop music thundered from the speakers. Their table seemed far too small, leaving them closer together than Franziska was strictly comfortable with. Still, Adrian seemed at ease, and the air conditioning was pumping at full blast, so it wasn't really so bad.
"I hadn't realized quite how hot it was until I came in. I probably would've passed out if I'd been out there much longer," Adrian said with a relieved sigh.
"You could have taken off the scarf, at least. I had no such option," Franziska replied, an amused smile playing over her lips.
Adrian sat a little more stiffly, but she just shook her head. Franziska wondered for a moment if something was wrong, but she dismissed it. She had been on edge ever since her meeting with Edgeworth a few days ago. The tension she saw in Adrian was likely just a projection of her own.
"The sweater's a turtleneck. I'm trapped either way."
"A turtleneck, Adrian Andrews? Really?" Franziska asked.
"It's a fashion statement," Adrian replied indignantly.
"In what universe?"
"Europe!"
"Please! I'm from Germany, and I assure you, people do not favor such silly things."
"Well, maybe in the fashionable parts of Europe," Adrian teased, but her smile didn't quite reach her eyes.
Franziska frowned. Adrian's discomfort hadn't just been imagined. Had she been too harsh in her joking? No, she had been perfectly fair, and kinder by far than even her gentlest jibes at Edgeworth.
"What's the matter?" she asked, cocking her head to the side.
Adrian glanced around the near-empty room, reminding Franziska acutely of a rabbit trying to locate the nearest burrow to disappear into. Franziska almost snapped at her to answer the question, but she caught herself.
"Do you want to talk about it?" she tried, grasping clumsily at the right words. Instinctively, her hand sought out the handle of her bullwhip, but she let it go after a moment. A year ago, she would have torn an answer out of Adrian, politeness be damned, but she knew now that gentleness would serve her better. The thought didn't sit quite right with her, and she suddenly felt too warm despite the cafe's air conditioning.
She watched Adrian's throat work for a moment.
"It's complicated," she said at last, her cheeks turning a dark red. "Three years ago, I...did something foolish. And I'll bear the mark from it for the rest of my life."
Franziska's grip on her cup tightened until she was sure she would crush it in her hand. She remembered the report Edgeworth had given her six months back, a plain white envelope with a plain white medical chart and plain white papers inside:
PATIENT: Andrews, Adrian GENDER: Female
AGE: 20 HEIGHT: 5'4" WEIGHT: 110 lbs
CHIEF COMPLAINT: Bruising and abrasion of the neck, likely caused by rope or cable. Self- inflicted.
Franziska was smart enough to put two and two together.
"I see," she said in a thin voice. She rubbed at her own shoulder, feeling the familiar twinge of pain. Franziska was never quite sure if was in her arm or in her head. "I'm sorry."
Adrian's eyes followed the movement, but she only nodded.
"...Me, too."
They sat in silence for a long moment. Adrian tied little knots in a straw wrapper and Franziska stirred nothing into her coffee. She'd prosecuted hundreds of murder cases, and at least some involved self-inflicted wounds. She'd never batted an eye at any of them. Why was she getting squeamish at the thought of another?
Franziksa watched as Adrian rolled a piece of napkin paper into a tiny ball. Adrian, built like she was made of spider-silk and matchsticks, Franziska's height but half her muscle. Adrian, who just kept believing even when humanity had given her more than enough reason to never trust again. Adrian, who never blamed or resented Franziska for her role in the mess half a year ago.
It suddenly occurred to her that she liked Adrian. She didn't feel pity, or even beholden to repay a debt; she actually, genuinely liked her.
That strange feeling of discomfort persisted.
"I appear to have a simply wonderful track record with saying intelligent things in outings with you," Franziska sighed instead of putting voice to her thoughts.
"No, it's all right. I don't like thinking about it, but...I thought you deserved to know. If you don't mind, though, I'd like to talk about something else."
"Certainly," she replied stiffly.
Adrian smiled.
"Have you been enjoying your stay here?" she asked so cheerfully that Franziska might have forgotten that they'd been talking about suicide a moment before.
"Not as much as I could be. I had tea with Little Brother-he was as insufferable as always," Franziska returned, but the words lacked all bite. No matter how much she fought with Edgeworth, she still enjoyed his company immensely. At the very least, his sharp wit helped her practice her verbal fencing. "He asked after you, you know."
"That was kind of him," the other woman replied. Although she kept a straight face, she couldn't quite keep the acerbity out of her voice.
"I take it you don't care overmuch for my brother?"
Adrian grimaced.
"He was not particularly friendly when last we met."
Franziska nodded, unsurprised. Edgeworth was every bit as ruthless as she, pouncing on any hint of weakness like a great cat, and like her, he rarely sheathed his claws to handle potential witnesses. Couple that with the tangled mess of lies and intrigue that comprised State v. Engarde and Franziska could certainly believe Edgeworth had verbally roughed up Adrian. Still, for all that he may have pulled the trigger on her, it was Franziska who had loaded and taken aim.
"I understand that the trial was not pleasant for anyone, and that Little Brother is often tactless. But I treated you just as awfully, in a way. Why, then, do you dislike him but wish to see me?"
Adrian's cheeks turned a faint pink, and she ran a hand through her hair.
"I don't see it that way. You were kind to me, even if you were just doing your job. No one else was. Not the detective, not Mr. Wright, and not Mr. Edgeworth."
Franziska felt a rebuttal rise to her lips, but she bit it back. There was no sense in dredging up any more bad memories. State v. Engarde seemed to circle perpetually over them, its wings casting a shadow on even the most pleasant of conversation, as each knew it could dive and tear into them at any moment. Franziska didn't want to talk about the case, not any more than she had to, and it wasn't just for Adrian's sake; the memory of the bullet that had torn through her shoulder and the decisions she had made hung heavily over her. It was made all the worse by the fact that she hadn't been kind to Adrian, not really. She had used her, speaking gently in hopes of drawing forth testimony, and she had tossed Adrian aside like a candy wrapper when done with her.
Her mind raced to find something to say, to steer the conversation back out of dangerous territory.
"Perhaps I was the only one who was not intimidated by you," she said after no more than a moment's pause, remembering the cold facade Adrian had presented back then.
Adrian dryly laughed.
"Please. My tough businesswoman act may spook waiters or showbiz executives, but not someone like Mr. Edgeworth."
"He's softer than he seems, you know. And you were fierce, Adrian Andrews, in your own way. Go on. Give it another try."
Adrian rolled her eyes, but nodded. She took a deep breath, and when she let it out, her face frosted over and she squared her thin shoulders. She tipped her head back slightly, just enough to look down her nose at Franziska, and those soft brown eyes grew hard as steel.
"I despise trifling conversation," she said, voice cooler and pitched deeper. Even having watched the whole thing, Franziska was still very nearly taken aback.
She arched an eyebrow.
"Good show."
Adrian grinned, suddenly loose and relaxed again. She was like the sun, briefly shadowed by a passing cloud but unchanged by its presence.
"Thanks. I find people don't take me very seriously without it. I only reach the shoulder of most men, you know."
Franziska wanted to ask if that was how Celeste had been, fierce and no-nonsense, but she knew better than to bring that up. She was curious, yes, deeply curious, but finding those answers wasn't worth watching Adrian's face twist in pain and her shoulders slump. Perhaps in time, Adrian would feel comfortable telling her, but not now.
"Any fool who dares condescend me soon regrets it," she opted for instead.
"Gee, I wonder why," Adrian said dryly, her eyes sliding to the whip at Franziska's side.
Franziska felt a spark of indignation, but to her surprise, she laughed.
"You're lucky I am fond of you, Adrian Andrews, or I would make you wish you hadn't teased me," she said, but she couldn't keep herself from smiling.
Adrian looked faintly dazed for a moment, then she took off her glasses, hastily cleaned them on the hem of her sweater, and replaced them. She grinned, looked at her lap, back up at Franziska, and laughed.
"And what is so funny?" Franziska demanded.
"It's nothing," the other woman said, recomposing herself. "And just like last time, you've been putting the spotlight on me. You let me ramble on about Mr. Edgeworth without telling me anything in return. Don't think I didn't notice."
"It wasn't intentional," Franziska replied.
"Regardless!"
There was that smile again. It took Franziska aback. No one in the von Karma family smiled very often, not unless it was a confident smirk, and by all rights Adrian shouldn't, either. Six months ago, the closest she had managed was a sad shadow of a smile that didn't reach her scared eyes. Now, after getting out of prison, she could scarcely seem to keep a grin off her face.
"I did already tell you that he was insufferable. He mostly just sipped his tea and made condescending remarks. Nothing serious. I have stopped in at the Prosecutors' Office and attended a series of mundane meetings with foolish policemen who seemed to wish to waste all of our time."
"Did you see Mr. Wright?" Adrian blurted out, her voice coming out uncharacteristically rough.
Franziska bristled at the suggestion.
"Of course not! Phoenix Wright is no friend of mine!" she retorted.
She thought of the nervous grin he had worn as he visited her in the hospital, a cheap bouquet of tulips held sheepishly behind his leg. Franziska would not have gone to see Phoenix had their circumstances been reversed. She still wasn't wholly sure what he'd even meant by the gesture. He hadn't come to gloat or demand evidence for the trial. Maybe he'd truly only meant well, meant to be friendly with her.
Franziska pushed the thought aside. It didn't matter. She had enough on her plate with one foolish American befriending her. She didn't need another, and certainly not one as aggravating as Phoenix Wright.
"I wonder if he wouldn't like to see you," Adrian said thoughtfully.
"Have you gone to see him?" Franziska challenged.
Adrian made a face.
"No. Not yet, at least. I know he'd likely be pleased to see me, but...I've been so busy with things. Perhaps soon, though," she said with a shrug.
"Do you mean to see my little brother, as well?"
Adrian exhaled sharply through her nose and looked to the side.
"I don't know," she admitted. "I owe him a great deal, and I'm very grateful for that, but..."
Franziska watched curiously while Adrian cast about for the right words, her brow scrunched up in concentration.
"But I cannot forget some of the things he said to me, well-intentioned or not," she settled.
"I see," Franziska said for lack of anything better.
"Does he think you're a fool for being my friend?" she asked. Adrian spoke softly, hesitantly, as if still full of insecurity.
Franziska's heart stuttered in her chest.
"He does not, and even if he did, neither his judgment nor his words would change my mind."
Adrian didn't smile, but her eyes widened, her lips slightly parting. She nodded slowly.
Franziska tugged at the collar of her shirt and thought unkind things about California heat.
"Thank you," the other woman murmured.
"It's nothing. No one tells me what to do or whom to associate with, least of all Miles Edgeworth," she replied, but she felt heat rush to her face. She dismissed it. Her words sounded silly spoken aloud, so of course she was embarrassed. It was a perfectly natural reaction.
All the same, Franziska felt foolish.
"Do your other friends find it strange that you're my...friend?" she asked.
"I don't really have many friends anymore," Adrian confessed with a grimace. "But, well...I think Mr. Wright would be glad for both of us."
She chuckled, and Franziska caught herself smiling as well.
"He's a foolish fool of a man," she snorted with a shake of her head. "I'm sure he would get sentimental."
It suddenly struck her just how close she and Adrian were; if Franziska leaned just a tad farther forward, she would bump foreheads with the other woman. She thought for an instant that Adrian might kiss her, close as they were, smiling and staring into each others' eyes. But of course they were just two friends in a cramped cafe, brought close to hear over the blaring music and laughing at a shared joke.
Before Franziska could make her sluggish brain work, Adrian drew back with a flustered smile, her pupils dilated so much that only the barest sliver of brown could be seen around the edges.
"Sentimental isn't always bad," she said breathily, her face stained pink.
Franziska found her own breath coming a little too quickly, and she nearly scowled. Nerves, she thought, though she couldn't remember being nervous a day in her life. She was just worried—what if Adrian had decided to lean forward a little, close that gap between them, mistaking their coffee-meeting for a date?
She couldn't help but recall Edgeworth's words from their luncheon the other day:
"Does Miss Andrews know it's not?"
"Of course she does!" Franziska had said then, but, looking at Adrian's flustered face, she wasn't quite so sure.
At her stare, Adrian frowned, brows drawn together in confusion.
"Is something the matter?" she asked, leaning forward again in her concern.
Franziska suddenly felt panic seize her. She felt claustrophobic, trapped in this tiny coffeehouse with this too-friendly woman. She pulled back a little, trying to clear her head. She was too warm and too crowded.
"No," she snapped. "I've just dallied too long. I have dinner reservations with Miles Edgeworth in an hour."
Adrian's frown deepened, and she swallowed thickly.
"All right. I suppose it is getting late," Adrian replied. She looked about to say more, but she cut herself off, shaking her head.
Franziska felt a stab of guilt, like she'd just kicked a dog, but she stood up regardless.
"...I'll see you later, then," she said, not quite hearing her own words. Blood still pounded in her ears, and she couldn't catch her breath.
Adrian nodded, brightening at this.
"Maybe I'll see you off," she said, trying and failing to sound casual. "If that's okay, of course."
Franziska tried to reply, but she couldn't find any words. She just knew she had to get out of there, to clear her head, to put some space between them. Finding herself speechless, she settled for a curt nod, hurrying for the door.
She heard a small, confused "goodbye" as she pushed out into the blazing heat. The humid air did little to ease her nerves, but the silence was more than welcomed. Franziska took a deep breath, two, her grey eyes shut as she thought.
You're being childish, she told herself. You should head back in there and apologize. The least you could have done was lie to her, pretend you weren't just running away from her.
Franziska almost turned to look through the window, but she checked herself. No, it was all right. She would call Adrian later, after dinner, and offer some excuse or another for her behavior. She'd give Adrian her flight details, though she doubted that Adrian would turn up for a 3 AM departure time. The thought irritated her, although for the life of her, Franziska couldn't figure out why.
She took another few breaths and succeeded in corralling her emotions. Whatever she ended up doing, she was sure of one thing: she wouldn't mention a word of it to Miles Edgeworth.