Once Again

When Trucy is fast asleep in bed, he closes the door behind him softly, and collapses onto the sofa. Tonight is warm, and stifling; he runs a hand through hair, the other fumbling with the remote.

The muted TV flashes in the dark room with princesses and passionate battles of dancing swords in Neo Olde Tokyo. Phoenix watches, huddled at one end of the sofa, eyes strained, neck stiff.

And, just for tonight, he forgets. Forgets everything, and remembers what everything used to be. Behind closed eyelids burst into colour courtrooms and prosecutors, bright smiles on worn faces.

Because what was, and is, and is still to be, they coalesce silently, so softly that it is near impossible to distinguish one from the other; and all he can think of are burgers and stepladders and the crisp feel of a freshly iron suit under his palm.

Sleep finds him in the early hours of the morning, a magatama clutched in cold fingers.

"Trucy, this might be a long shot, but is rewinding time in your arsenal of magic tricks?"

The girl huffs, crossing her arms at her ridiculous father.

"Don't be silly, daddy! Even the greatest magicians can't turn back time! That's just asking for the impossible."

A sigh.

"No, I thought not."

It would be asking for a miracle (and perhaps it's too much to ask for one more.)

She sends him letters, cards, stacks of DVDs and short messages scrawled over post-it notes.

(Sometimes he tries to write back, god knows he has enough to say, but the moment he lifts the nib of his pen, the words curdle and crumble, and are lost forever.)

Dear Nick,

Writing since Pearly hasn't shut up about you lately. How's Trucy, hmm? Is she missing her dad's fun, cool medium friend? Tell her I want to see her panties again.

It's been a while, hasn't it? I can barely remember what you look like, Nick. I want to come back, honest, but the elders won't let me, boring old bats! Being the Master's pretty awesome, though- I have the whole of Kurain at my beck and call!

Which reminds me... I kinda miss telling you what to do. Actually, I miss loads of things about Wright and Co. Like TV. And hot showers. And Charley. And... well, you, I guess.

You should visit Kurain sometime.

Lots of love,

Maya

Kurain doesn't want the master cavorting with a disbarred lawyer. Phoenix knows this because Pearl's told him about the tantrum that Maya had to throw to gain permission to visit the city again. She doesn't mention it, but there is a brand new hooded cloak lying unused in her suitcase, the kind which would quite easily conceal her identity in public places while in the presence of unsuitable company.

Still, her smile is as wide as ever, though he's long since learnt to see what lies underneath. It's the same smile she wore when Morgan was incarcerated, the one she wore when her mother was discovered dead. It's the one she wears to protect Pearl.

He doesn't need to think too hard to realise who she's protecting this time.

"Jeez, you sure don't age well," she's saying now, and he hasn't got a clue what she's been chattering on about because he's just been listening to the sound of her voice; he only snaps back to attention when she reaches up, the back of her hand brushing against his stubbly chin. He looks anywhere but at her. "Who's taking care of you now that I'm gone, Nick?"

He tries to swallow the hard lump in his throat, braces his shoulders as he strides down this street that he had known so well. He's avoided walking this way for months, for no reason except that it would've felt too strange to walk it without her bounding by his side.

"I should ask you the same thing," he croaks, his lips twitching up at the corners.

They turn a corner, and as their old burger joint comes into view, he watches her face light up, his chest swelling painfully, poignantly, with something he can't quite place. The air is pervaded by the familiar scent of hot, sizzling burgers.

He stops dead in his tracks. Closes his eyes. "I'll do it, Maya."

"Hmm?" She looks back, hand on the door.

"I'll get my badge back."

When he opens his eyes again, Maya is on tip-toes, face scant inches away from his own. He doesn't flinch.

"Promise me," she says, staring intently, and his breath catches because though Maya is always making demands of him, this is undoubtedly a request.

"I promise." His voice surprises himself, how the words slip out low and quiet but entirely certain. He's sure he sees a flicker of quiet confidence in her grey eyes.

"Good," she says. Then she spins on her heel.

There's a gentle tinkle of chimes as the door swings open, greeting them with a blast of warm air. Phoenix opens his flat wallet, thinking that he's always been poor, more so now than ever before, but he's always had enough. He empties its contents into his palm and places an order for two burgers, large with tomatoes and cheese.

Maya is quick to ask him what he's going to eat, and the moment he supposes that he'll just go hungry for tonight is the moment he realises just how much he's missed her.

His half-hearted tinkling on the piano comes to an abrupt halt when he hears a familiar voice piping up behind him.

"I thought that they were exaggerating, but boy, you really do suck at playing the piano."

He knows this voice.

"M-Maya?" Phoenix almost falls over the piano stool in his attempt to rise.

"The one and only! Gee, Nick, you could sound happier to see me." She props her elbows up on the side of the piano, resting her cheek against her knuckles. And except from a change from one eccentric medium outfit to another, she looks exactly the same; petite frame and eyes bright with mischief and dark hair twisted into a single knot, the rest spilling around her shoulders and down her back.

"Maya! What are you doing here?"

She grins cheekily at him. "What, I can't drop in and see you every once in a while? What kind of a friend would I be?"

Phoenix groans. "Most people call first."

"Well, most people are boring," she informs him, rubbing at her arms. "Woah, it's pretty cold in here. Look, I can even see my breath!" She puffs out to demonstrate. "Isn't there any central heating?"

"It got cut off," he sighs, and pulls his beanie off his head and onto hers. It's not much but she looks happier with it on.

She hums her thanks, and twirls around, wide eyes drinking in the little occupying the basement of the Borsht Bowl Club. "So this is your new workplace, huh?"

The tables are grim and dirty, and the walls mouldy. The restaurant rarely sees real customers, only unscrupulous transactions conducted under the turning of many a blind eye. It's a den of illicit activities, and he is the entertainment, a joke of a musician whose only real skill lies in bluffing his way through a card game. He quickly decides that this is information Maya best not know. No... it would be better if she didn't see any of this.

The gush of shame hits him hard in the chest, stinging where he is still raw. Surely she must be thinking exactly what he thinks every day, even if she's not saying it aloud.

You don't belong here.

Bitterness rises up in his throat, but he has no choice but to quash it before it begins to consume him. He looks at Maya.

"Are you hungry?" he asks, then realises it's a stupid question.

This place doesn't serve burgers, so they sit down together and eat their first ever bowl of borsht.

It's cold and slimy, and goes down the throat in lumps. They don't talk for a long time, which is strange for him and stranger for her, they just raise their spoons and swallow, and raise their spoons and swallow, over and over again, eyes fixed on their food. He's never tasted anything quite so tasteless before.

He's almost finished with his bowl when Maya picks herself up, leaning over the table, and as he raises his gaze to meet hers his first thought is that she's going to embrace him, perhaps offer her condolences for everything that has happened to reduce him to this.

Instead she lifts a hand and slaps him hard across the cheek.

"Ow!" he yelps. "What was that for?"

"Feeling sorry for yourself! You're not being the Nick I know! Get up!" She retracts, eyes moist and fists clenched. "You can't spend your life moping about like this! I won't let you!" For a moment, he sits, stunned, cheek stinging red from the impact.

Then he does get up. He stands so suddenly that he knocks the table, and their bowls of borsht clatter against the wooden tabletop. "Well what else can I do? I'm not the Nick you know any more. I'm not a lawyer any more- I'm not anything!"

It's the first time he's ever yelled at her. He doesn't really yell- at anyone, really. It's not in his nature.

Maya's always been the oddity in his life.

"You're a father," Maya fires back, "And a friend. And you'll never stop being Nick even if the badge is gone and even if you're not in a blue suit."

He opens his mouth to say something- anything- but his throat is quickly becoming too tight, too dry, and he cannot speak. Maya shoots him a dirty look, before continuing.

"And do you know why? Because you don't ever, ever give up on anybody! You shout objection really loudly and you bluff until the witness cracks and you make shady deals to gather more evidence but you don't ever give up when you believe in someone! And it always turns out okay in the end because you're Nick and you can turn about any situation no matter how terrible it seems and we'll end up at some fancy restaurant with you footing the bill for everybody..."

Her words are cracking, and her furious eyes filling; he wants to reach out and comfort her, but he can't when he finds with horror that his own eyes are blurring and burning with tears.

He can't fight them any more than she can, so he sinks back down into his seat, buries his head in his hands, and cries.

"I never wanted to pay for any of those meals," he chokes out, with a strangled laugh.

Across the table, she laughs too, amidst sobs.

They sit there for minutes, or perhaps hours, he doesn't know for sure... but by the time she stands to leave, he's remembered that Maya has always been far stronger than she seems.

"What do you mean, Nick?! Disbarred?"

Across the phone, Maya sounds almost hysterical.

"Maya... I forged evidence. That's unforgivable."

"B-but," she spluttered, "you didn't. You wouldn't. Nick, you'd never-"

"It doesn't matter any more."

"What do you mean it doesn't matter?! That's not fair! How could you let them do this to you?!"

A pause, and a twinge of pleading within his weary voice. "Maya..."

"You're not a piano player, you're a lawyer! A hot-blooded defence attorney! You protect the weak, place your trust in the convicted! There are clients who need you! Who else will defend them for minimum wage?!"

"Maya." She falls suddenly silent, perhaps hearing his thinly-veiled desperation. There is only one question he can ask now, faced with the rare opportunity of Maya's undivided attention. He turns it carefully over in his head, before speaking. "Do you believe in me?"

"Do you even need to ask?" He does not answer. Across the line, he can hear her exhaling slowly.

"You put your badge on the line for me. You crossed a burning bridge for me. You've saved me more times than I can count. I couldn't stop believing in you if I tried."

He runs a hand through his spiky hair, the other clutching hopelessly to the receiver. When she continues, her voice is ringing as bright as ever, so bright it almost hurts.

"Remember that time when I said I was indestructible? ...Well, I'm not. Someone's been protecting me all this time."

It feels familiar, standing at this train station. Saying goodbye.

Again.

The morning is fraught with chill; Maya's nose is red as she puffs wisps of white. And she's jabbering on about something trivial and wholly irrelevant, while Phoenix thinks that he'll miss her odd little topknot head and the way she'll coerce him into buying her a burger at 2am in the morning, and their philosophical arguments concerning ladders and step-ladders.

"But don't worry, I'll be back," she's saying now. "Wright and co. won't be without its co. for long! As soon as I become the Master I'll head straight back here!"

"Right," Phoenix hums, smiling into his scarf. "Kurain won't mind their Master shirking her duties?"

"Duties, smhuties," she says with a dismissive wave of her hand. "I'll have time to be awesome at mediumship and saving your ass when your angry witnesses turn on you."

He wishes that were true, but becoming the Master is more responsibility than she has ever undertaken before; they both know that this is farewell. The train's about to leave, and she hurries to grab her bags.

"Goodbye, Maya," he says, smiling fondly down at her as he pulls her against his chest, luggage clunking clumsily against their legs. She holds on, hands clenching tight into the fabric of his shirt, and he knows that she wants to stay, which is good enough for him.

Her hair smells of oranges and rainwater. He wonders why he'd never noticed before.

The train is hissing impatiently, but she still takes a moment too long disentangling herself from him. Then she beams up at him for one long moment, before grabbing her bags and sweeping away.

"Goodbye, for now," she yells over her shoulder, as she slips through the doors. They slide shut on a final glimpse of a fading grin, the swish of dark hair and violet beads. Then it is just him, alone on the platform, watching as the train chugs slowly away.

"Goodbye, for now," he echoes, softly.

Gatewater Land officially opens a month after the trial of Hazakura, and naturally Maya has him forking over the contents of his wallet reluctantly by the time the month is out. Pearl's never been to a theme park before, and quickly becomes ensnared in the world of haunted houses and rollercoasters and teapot rides.

The chatter of a crowd rings in the warm air, but it's Maya, it's her voice and her unguarded laughter that seem to drown out everything else out.

She grabs his arm, flashes him a great big smile as they watch Pearl skipping ahead, and suddenly all those thoughts of his empty wallet and the bills coming into Wright and co. next week simply fade away.

Beyond a series of high sweeping arches, a sparkling blue lake stretches. A smattering of small wooden boats skim lazily along its surface.

Unbidden, a memory drifts into his consciousness, two voices in a abyss of black.

Boats... I've never ridden on a boat.

Really? Well, how about we go out on one when the trial is finished?

Hey, good idea! You bet!

They exchange glances. Today, the sun is shining bright.

"Nick, you made me a promise once," she reminds him, a wide grin stretching over her face. "And far be it from you to break a promise."

He smiles.

Finally got hold of a 3DS, and I am so, so excited to start playing Ace Attorney 5. This story is pretty old, completed soon after AA4 and AA:I came out. I'm really sorry if it's a bit shabby- I haven't had time to look over this properly.

Written for Nick and Maya, because though she might be gone, she won't be forgotten.