Author's Note: This was written for my wife CatofShades, who wanted to see a scenario where Clay survives Dual Destinies and Apollo realizing he has a family. This is thus canon divergence, though it doesn't diverge until after most of the game. The quote at the end comes from Carl Sagan, because I'm still convinced little Apollo and Clay would have loved him.

To Make the Vastness Bearable

Apollo waits while Trucy hugs Mr. Wright—or perhaps it's while Mr. Wright hugs Trucy, he's not sure who is doing the comforting and who is the one being comforted. Or perhaps both parties are taking on both roles, and he smiles, just a bit, to see the relief on Mr. Wright's face, the pride and joy on Trucy's.

They won.

It hurt more than Apollo ever thought it possibly could, but they won.

Simon Blackquill is free. Athena's nightmares are over. Trucy is safe—and Apollo will have to talk to Aura Blackquill about the use of hostages in the pursuit of justice. Though he understands the frustration and fear she felt, taking advantage of innocents is not an acceptable method of pursuing the truth.

Apollo doesn't actually see Trucy shift her grasp from Mr. Wright to him. He doesn't know if he blinked or if the girl used some misdirection trick of hers, but one minute she's wrapped in her father's arms, and the next she has him in a vice-grip.

"Polly." Trucy's voice trembles with a mishmash of emotion, and Apollo finds himself casting a glance at Athena, hoping that she will be able to help him make sense of the situation.

Athena just grins at him, and Apollo can't tell if it's vaguely threatening, the way she crosses her arms in front of her chest, or simply self-satisfied.

"Hey, Trucy." Apollo returns the young woman's embrace, pats her awkwardly on the shoulder. "How's our hero doing?"

"I was pretty heroic, wasn't I?" Trucy pulls back, though her arms remain anchored firmly in Apollo's vest, holding tight, as though he might disappear if she lets go. "Though you and Athena and Daddy were also pretty brave. The Wright Anything Agency—the most heroic family in the whole damn world."

A strangled noise slides its way out of Apollo's throat, and he glances first at Athena and then at Mr. Wright, waiting for them to correct Trucy.

They don't, though. Athena just grins wider, looking pleased with the world; Phoenix stands calm and collected, his hands in his pockets, the faintest fond smile on his face as he watches his daughter. All right, so it's probably not fair to expect Mr. Wright to correct Trucy at the moment. Trucy could probably say that the moon is actually an illusion projected by aliens who are trying to take over the world and he'd agree, he's clearly so thrilled and relieved to have her back.

"We should go out to eat to celebrate!" Trucy turns so that she's facing her father, though one hand continues to stay firmly latched onto Apollo. He's starting to get a little worried that she's going to rip the fabric if she continues to hold on so tight. "Also because I'm starving. I'm not sure Aura realizes that people aren't robots and need food and water to survive. I was soooo hungry by the time she let us go—"

"There you are."

Apollo recognizes the faintly exasperated voice, and he winces as he turns around, though he's fairly certain it's not him that the Chief Prosecutor is looking for. Miles Edgeworth and Phoenix Wright have some kind of strange friendship-rivalry... thing, a thing that has resulted in Trucy being far too familiar with and comfortable with the Chief Prosecutor for Apollo's comfort.

Except it isn't Phoenix that Prosecutor Edgeworth is glaring at, it's Apollo.

Apollo returns the man's silver stare with a glower of his own, realizing belatedly that he probably shouldn't antagonize this man. (This man who knew about the Phantom, who was fighting the Phantom but failed to save Clay, but that is not Miles Edgeworth's fault, and Apollo will not let his grief make him unfair.)

"How you lot are managing to evade the reporters to the point where you're difficult to find, I don't know, but I'm glad I caught up to you before they did." Prosecutor Edgeworth's gaze scans over their group, and Apollo doesn't need his special eyes to see the way the man's shoulders relax, to catch the slight smile that touches his face as his eyes flit from Phoenix to Trucy to Apollo to Athena.

The Chief Prosecutor is glad to see them all, together like this.

Then his eyes return to Apollo, and Edgeworth's smile takes on a different edge. More... predatory. Except the Demon Prosecutor is just a person, no matter the tales that are told about him, and moreover he is a person dedicated to truth and justice, and Apollo will not be intimidated by him.

Apollo doesn't know what he does, other than meeting Edgeworth's gaze and refusing to look away, but whatever it is, it makes Chief Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth give a brief chuckle. "An impressive crew you have here, Wright. Everything I've heard and more, given what I've seen over the last few days. I'm sorry to break up the festivities, but there are still some loose ends that need to be tied up. Come, Justice. I'm borrowing you for a few hours."

Apollo blinks, trying to make sure he's parsed that sentence properly. It was his name, right? It had to be. You can't borrow intangible ideals. But why would this man want him? He's a defense attorney. Edgeworth can have his pick of any of the prosecutors that he wants to help him with anything. Why come to Apollo? "Excuse me?"

Phoenix steps up on Apollo's other side, resting a hand on Apollo's shoulder. "It's already been a long enough day, Edgeworth. Whatever you need—"

"I need him, and I believe that he'll find the outing to be... enlightening. Hopefully something that can relieve a bit of the... pressure from the last few days." Edgeworth chooses his words carefully, but there's a buoyant note to his tone and expression that makes Apollo wary. The prosecutor is pleased with himself, and also very studiously avoiding telling Apollo anything useful.

Apollo crosses his arms over his chest. "Where do you want to take me?"

Edgeworth shakes his head. "I can't reveal that. Not yet, at least."

Apollo glowers harder, his jaw tensing. He hates people playing games with him—his eyes flick to Mr. Wright, who is currently frowning at the Chief Prosecutor, too.

Trucy raises her hand, as though she were in class. "Can I come too, Uncle Miles?"

The fond familiarity in Trucy's address breaks the mood the Chief Prosecutor had created, and Apollo watches in fascination as matching looks of exasperation flash across both Mr. Wright's and Edgeworth's faces.

Edgeworth steps forward, though, running a hand over Trucy's hair. "I can't take you right now, but I promise that I'll take you tomorrow, assuming everyone involved agrees. It shouldn't be so much of a secret tomorrow."

"What secret?" Phoenix pokes Edgeworth in the arm. "You told me you weren't keeping things about the Phantom case from me, Miles—"

"And I wasn't at the time I said that." Edgeworth straightens his already-immaculate suit, his fingers toying with his sleeve cuffs. "Really, why am I bearing the brunt of all your suspicions right now? I am trying to do your boy a favor, Wright, a favor that is going to be very difficult to complete if you don't let me take him now, before someone realizes I am not where I should be."

Phoenix hesitates a moment before turning to Apollo with a shrug. "Your choice what you want to do, Apollo. Though I promise Prosecutor Edgeworth wouldn't ever do something to hurt you."

Apollo hesitates, studying Edgeworth. "You said... it's something I'll want to see?"

Edgeworth inclines his head. "I am certain it's something that you'd like to know sooner rather than later, given what I've seen and heard over the last few days."

"All right." Apollo sighs. He is tired—it has been a long few days, and he knows that the days to follow will be no less long, filled with preparation for Clay's funeral. If he is being offered information, though, he is not going to turn it down. "Though... will you be able to drop me off at the Agency when we're done?"

"I can take you wherever you wish to go when we're done." Edgeworth smiles again, and it is a surprisingly gentle, kind expression, something Apollo hadn't expected. Something Apollo doesn't quite trust, though the smile doesn't change as Edgeworth raises his head to study the other members of the Agency. "I'll see all of you later. Do try to stay out of trouble for the next few hours, all right?"

And with that Miles Edgeworth turns on his heel and walks away, leaving Apollo to skitter after him, still utterly confused about what's going on.

XXX

Edgeworth has a bright red sports car.

Apollo supposes he shouldn't be too surprised. Prosecutors tend to be rich, and the way Edgeworth dresses certainly speaks to a flare for the expensive, the dramatic, and the elegant.

Apollo still finds himself running his hands over the soft leather seats, surreptitiously checking out all of the interior systems, listening in intent awe to the quiet purring of the engine. He isn't jealous. Really. He's just... curious. Inquisitive. Good traits for an attorney to have.

"You performed admirably, even without any backup or assistance."

"Huh?" Apollo resists the urge to look around. There is no one else in the car. Clearly the words are meant for him, though he has no idea why Prosecutor Edgeworth has decided to praise him, after six minutes of very studious silence. Unless the words aren't meant as praise? That would make a bit more sense, given Prosecutor Edgeworth's ties to Mr. Wright. "If you're trying to rub in that what I did was unprofessional and stupid, I already get it. I'll trust the people I'm working with from now on."

"I meant no such thing." Edgeworth's eyebrows both creep up, though his eyes stay locked firmly on the road. "I meant what I said. You showed initiative, courage, and ingenuity during a very difficult time. I am impressed. You are every inch the determined and talented young man that Phoenix Wright describes you as."

"I... ah... um..." Apollo closes his mouth, since all that seems to want to come out are stuttering sounds of disbelief. Focus, Justice. Don't just flail about. Arguments have to be coherent and usually grammatically sound in order to be taken seriously. "I could have gotten Athena killed for a crime she didn't commit."

"No." Dry certainty fills the single word. "You went searching for the truth, and you helped find it. Trust is not a thing to be given lightly—or broken lightly. She lied to you; you went looking for the reason; because of the searching you did, the reason was not only uncovered, a dangerous criminal was brought into custody. You have done very well, Apollo Justice, and I have no doubt that everyone else in your f—... at the Agency believes as much and will tell you as much."

"Maybe." Apollo faces the window rather than Edgeworth, watching buildings slide by at a surprisingly fast clip. His right hand creeps up to his chest, fingers pressing over his still-aching heart. "I hope so. I tried."

"You fought for the truth. You went looking for the truth, no matter how painful." Edgeworth draws a long, slow breath. "And I will repeat, and always believe, that this is never a bad thing. Wright and I... if he hadn't dug for the truth, I would have hung for my father's murder, while his true killer went free. Were we not to suspect Von Karma, because he had cared for me for fifteen years? And that is hardly the only time we have gone digging for painful truths in places that others would consider sacrosanct. Ask Ema Skye some time what her opinion is on uncovering potentially painful truths. From what I have seen and heard of your relationship over the last two years, I suspect you are close enough that she would tell you her story."

Apollo blinks, trying to imagine what kind of darkness there might be in Ema's past.

Edgeworth takes a turn probably a little bit faster than he should, and his jaw is tight, his eyes narrowed as he studies the road as though it were a recalcitrant witness. "I have seen to the arrests of detectives, police chiefs, and prosecutors in the course of my career. Was I to turn a blind eye to their crimes because we are on the same side—because I knew and respected some of them?"

"That's different."

"Why?" Edgeworth didn't give him a chance to say how it was different before asking the rhetorical question, and he hurries on after he asked it, keeping Apollo from making an argument. "Because they were guilty? The only way to know if someone is guilty or not is to find the truth."

True, but Apollo still thinks that there is something... different, something fundamentally wrong with the way he suspected Athena, though it is hard to put the feeling into words. "I bet you didn't have reason to trust most of those people you helped put away. I bet most of them were corrupt and it was just trying to find the evidence to stop them from hurting other people."

"For many of them. But there were also... I sent the mentor of a very dear friend to jail. A police detective who was circumventing the law because he thought the system was too broken to do what was necessary. He... wasn't wrong, with some of his assertions." For a moment Edgeworth is still, silent, and Apollo can feel the weight of too many ghosts crowded into the car with them. Then the man's mouth quirks into the faintest smile. "But then there was Wright, simply reworking the system when he found it incapable of handling certain events. His is a much better way to go, I think."

"That's probably the nicest way you could describe the creation and implementation of the Jurist System." Apollo studies Miles Edgeworth as surreptitiously as he can. He suspects that Edgeworth has a very... different view of Phoenix Wright than he does.

"Perhaps. Or perhaps it is easier to view things objectively when one isn't quite as intimately involved with the proceedings." Edgeworth turns down a one-way street, and Apollo takes a closer look at their surroundings, frowning.

He suspects where they're going, though he can't imagine why Edgeworth would be taking him to the hospital. Maybe there's some secret government building nearby? "I'm... not sure it's fair to say that you're completely objective with regards to Mr. Wright. I've seen you at Trucy's magic shows... quite a few times."

Edgeworth turns onto another one-way street, and they are definitely approaching the back way into the hospital parking garage. "Perhaps not completely objective, no, but he doesn't... antagonize me as he antagonized you during the Jurist System proceedings. I have suggested that he owes you an apology, but he insists that you understand when he's just teasing you."

"I... huh." Apollo has to pause for a minute, too surprised by all the turns the conversation has taken. The Chief Prosecutor has suggested to his boss that he apologize to Apollo. The Chief Prosecutor has been talking about Apollo with Mr. Wright. "Is any of this in any way related to whatever secret you're letting me in on?"

"Only insofar as it is related to the Phantom case, and I wanted to give you my opinion on your performance during said case." Edgeworth turns into the hospital parking garage, slowly and carefully easing his car through the lanes. "I like having honest, intelligent lawyers for my prosecutors to work against. I think it makes it much more likely for the truth to be found."

"Well, I'm not planning on quitting or leaving the Agency, if that's what you're worried about." The fingers of Apollo's right hand dance across his bracelet as Edgeworth slides the car into a parking spot.

"Good." Edgeworth puts the car into park with clean, decisive movements, removing and pocketing the key. His lips quirk up again into that faint smile again. "Gavin will be relieved to hear that."

Apollo groans. "He didn't put you up to... all of this, did he?"

"No." Edgeworth climbs out of the car, and Apollo hastily does the same. "I told you, what I said was my strictly my opinions, for what they are worth, on the last few days."

"And why..." Apollo licks his lips, staying where he is by the passenger side door. "Why are we here? You're not taking me to see... I'm not sure I'll be able to keep myself from doing something... stupid, if you're taking me to see the..." Apollo glances around the parking lot, and though there is no one in sight, he still lowers his voice and chooses a different word that will hopefully still be comprehensible. "The ghost."

"There will be no phantoms here, not today. Though ghosts..." Edgeworth shrugs, turning and walking toward the hospital doors.

Leaving Apollo to either follow him or stay by the car, still in the dark.

Heart beating too hard and fast in his chest, Apollo runs to catch up to the long-legged man, falling into step with him in the hospital corridor.

Edgeworth walks quickly, forcing Apollo into a half-jog to keep up with him. It is clear Edgeworth knows where he's going, and no one approaches them or tries to stop them, not even when Edgeworth lets himself into a stairwell that is very clearly marked as off limits to everyone but hospital staff.

Apollo follows behind him, trying not to look out of place or suspicious, keeping his questions locked behind his teeth by sheer force of will. He'll know soon what it is that Edgeworth wants to show him.

They are on a top floor, in a section that Apollo is fairly certain is meant to be administrative, when Edgeworth stops outside a door that is no different than any other door in the hall. He knocks eleven times, in what is obviously a pattern—loud, soft, loud, soft, soft, loud, loud, soft, loud, loud, soft. There is the click of a lock being undone, and a gruff voice proclaims, "Sir! Good to see you!"

"And good to see you, Detective. I trust there have been no incidents?" Edgeworth slides into the room, gesturing imperiously for Apollo to follow.

"No incidents, sir." The detective is enormous, towering over Apollo, but his grin is wide and kind as he closes and locks the door behind them. "The kid's recovering as nicely as the docs could hope, and it seems nobody's figured out he's still alive, so nobody's tried to come remedy that fact."

Kid.

Alive.

Apollo hopes, even as he tells himself that it's utter foolishness to hope. There are a great many people that the detective, who looks to be in his early forties, with gray streaks through his dark hair, could refer to as kid. There are many people that Miles Edgeworth could be trying to protect. There are many, many cases that the Chief Prosecutor might want Apollo's opinion or help on, and to think that it's—

Except Apollo knows the still figure lying in the hospital bed, surrounded by a cadre of machines that would be horrifying to Apollo if they weren't infinitely, indescribably better than the alternative.

He knows the dark brown eyes that are blinking hazily at him from above an oxygen mask.

He knows the shock of messy black curls, has helped Clay attempt to tame them, was there when Clay gave up and declared he was just going to wear a hat forever.

He knows that smile, clever and pleased with himself, though it is smaller and weaker than it was before.

"CLAY TERRAN." Apollo stands frozen a few steps into the room, his hands clenched into fists, and he doesn't know if he's going to laugh or cry or close the distance to the bed and punch his best friend because this is ridiculous. "YOU FUCKING BASTARD, YOU'RE ALIVE."

The detective winces, putting a finger in one ear. "Sir, I think it might not be a secret anymore."

"That's all right, detective." Edgeworth has his hands crossed in front of his chest. "The need for it to remain secret should have passed by now, though I intend to keep you on guard duty until I'm certain of it."

"Yes, sir!" The detective smiles, looking down fondly at Clay. "It's a pretty good gig, taking care o' the kid. I don't mind keepin' it for a little bit longer."

Apollo totters forward on legs that feel disconnected from his body, each step seeming unreal. He comes to a stop at the right-hand side of the bed, reaching out tentatively with one hand to touch Clay's hair.

Clay smiles, the expression obvious even through the oxygen mask. "Hey, Justice. Long time... no see."

Clay's voice is very soft, almost too soft to hear, but there is good humor in it, and Apollo recognizes it, had thought he was never going to get to hear it again. Drawing a breath of his own, he forces his numb tongue to form words. "I thought you were dead."

"Rumors of my... demise have been... slightly exaggerated." Clay's breath stutters out in a series of puffs, and it takes Apollo a moment to realize that his friend is laughing. A strange kind of laughter, one with barely any sound and with minimal movement of his chest, but laughter.

Clay is alive.

Clay is laughing.

"I'm going to punch you." Apollo buries his hand in Clay's hair, since it seems to be one of the few parts of him that isn't hooked up to one of the thousand machines. "As soon as you can sit up, I am going to punch you so hard for this."

Then Apollo bursts into tears, despite every effort that he makes to stop them.

Clay's left hand creeps up, slowly, as though every movement were a difficult and painful process, and his fingers clasp loosely onto Apollo's rolled-up sleeve cuff. "It's okay, 'Pollo. It's okay."

"You idiot." Apollo tries to draw a deep breath through the sobs, not quite succeeding. "You bloody damned idiot. You're alive."

"Uh huh." Clay grins. "Also... ten dollars richer now... thanks to you."

Apollo scrubs at the tears running down his face, though he still doesn't seem able to make them stop. Frowning, he turns to the detective.

The detective points at himself. "Me, I only bet the kid five dollars. I said that you would be so happy to see him alive you wouldn't say anythin' insultin'."

Clay's hand tugs on Apollo's sleeve, turns Apollo so that he's facing Prosecutor Edgeworth.

Edgeworth's finger taps against his arm, and after a moment he sighs. "I was coerced into betting that you would forget yourself and at least attempt to strike Mr. Terran."

"You..." Apollo looks between the three. "The three of you... bet on how I would react?"

"It's been really boring... lying here for two days... trying to remember... what he looked like." Clay's hand forms an awkward, wobbly thumb's up. "But I did. I helped. Always have been... Justice's best friend."

It's a terrible pun. It should make him angry. It should tangle with the rest of the complicated emotions in his chest and lose Clay five of those ten bucks.

Apollo isn't quite sure how he ends up kneeling on the ground. He doesn't intend to kneel, just like he'd really like to stop crying, but both seem to be completely beyond his control.

So he spends a few minutes sitting on the ground by Clay's bed, sobbing into Clay's bedsheets while Clay strokes his hair and tells him that everything is going to be just fine.

The man with a chest wound is telling Apollo that Apollo's going to be fine.

The man whose murder case Apollo worked on in court is alive.

His best friend is alive.

It doesn't make everything better. Some things it makes slightly worse. He is going to have to talk to Clay, now, about how much Clay knew. About how drugging someone without their knowledge and against their will is actually a pretty serious crime. About how not telling your best friend important things—like he needs to to shut up, you won't actually be getting out into space—is kind of awful.

He is going to have to talk to Miles Edgeworth about how prosecuting a murder case when the victim is still alive is probably against some law somewhere, and if it isn't, it damn well should be.

He is going to have to do a lot of things, but apparently what he's going to do first is sit here and cry like a lost child, and hope that everyone currently in the room won't think less of him for it.

XXX

Edgeworth exchanges a few quiet words with the detective that Apollo can't hear, and excuses himself from the room.

Gumshoe takes up a guard position at the door, grinning happily at Clay and Apollo before crossing his arms and turning his back to them, providing as much privacy as he can given the confines of the room.

"So?" Clay's voice is still thready and soft. "I hear you... caught my murderer?"

Apollo shakes his head, settling back more comfortably in the chair that the detective had provided for him. "I helped, maybe. There were a lot of people involved in the Phantom case. But you are not allowed to refer to someone as your murderer when you're alive."

"All right, my... would-be murderer." Clay rolls his eyes. "Given that he... tried very hard to kill me... I think murderer... is a fitting word."

Apollo strokes his thumb along Clay's fingers—at least along the ones that don't have sensors attached to them. "You know what? Though I should object, because legally there's a rather big gulf between attempted and successful murder, I think I'm going to side with you on this one. We caught your murderer. He's actually probably downstairs somewhere."

"What?" Clay's eyebrows draw together, and his skin must not be as pale as Apollo thought it was, because it becomes a ghost-white paper imitation now, all his veins showing clearly.

"Don't worry." Apollo gathers Clay's hand in his, holds it tight. "I wouldn't let anyone hurt you. But he's not going to be capable of doing so for quite a while, anyway. Once we figured out who he was... an assassin tried to take him out. Last I heard he was in critical but stable condition."

"An assassin... for the assassin." Clay gives another one of his soft, careful laughs, though his eyes are hard and sad. "So stupid. This whole thing... has been so stupid. Does it matter... who gets to the stars? I would go... with anyone from any country... as long as they loved them... as much as me."

Apollo smiles, though his throat feels tight and close again. "I'm not sure it's possible to love them as much as you. You've probably been courting them for as long as you could talk. You're a very dedicated paramour where space is concerned."

"I have been, haven't I?" Clay laughs again, and his color is slightly better, not healthy but not the death-pallor that it had been. "Doesn't mean... others can't be just as dedicated. After all... your dedication to justice... doesn't diminish any of your friends' dedication... yeah?"

"True." Apollo's smile fades as he studies his friend. "Clay... why didn't you tell me? You knew, and you didn't say anything. You just let me babble on like an idiot about how awesome the trip was going to be and—you didn't tell me."

His voice cracks, but his eyes are dry, anger pushing away all the other emotions for a brief period.

"I couldn't." Clay's voice is absolute earnest truth, and Apollo's bracelet stays loose on his arm. "I promised. Director Cosmos said... if I took care of Mr. Starbuck... he'd take care of everything."

"And you trusted him? The guy who suggested you drug one of our friends?" Apollo glares down at Clay. "That was... Clay, that was one of the stupidest, most thoughtless, most... idiotic things you have ever done. And I have a long list to compare things to."

"I get it." Clay rolls his eyes. "I'm an idiot. I owe... Mr. Starbuck an apology."

"You might owe him jail time, depending on if he wants to press charges."

"He wouldn't." There is utter serene certainty in Clay's voice. "He'll understand... why I did it."

"Yeah, well, will the Prosecutor's Office agree with him? I'm pretty sure the state can bring charges about illegally drugging someone."

"Oh." For the first time Clay looks somewhat hesitant, his gaze darting towards the door and then to Apollo. "He just... spent a lot of effort... saving my life. You don't think... he'd do that, right?"

"He's the Demon Prosecutor." Apollo tries to put all the force of Miles Edgeworth's reputation into the nickname, to impress upon Clay exactly how screwed he should be. "And he absolutely loathes corruption. He gets a case between his teeth, he doesn't let go until everyone who broke the law has paid the price."

"I wasn't corrupt. I was trying to help... Starbuck get back into space. And not... get him killed. He's not... a very good actor!"

"He didn't remember anything and he didn't have any idea why. Clay, he was—" Apollo pauses, drawing a deep breath, forcing his fingers to relax where they are crushing Clay's. "He pretty much asked me to throw the case a few times. He didn't know if he'd hurt you, and he was willing to maybe hang just because the possibility was out there."

"I'm sorry." The words are whispered so quietly that they are almost inaudible given the hiss of the oxygen pump, and Clay's eyes glimmer, a sheen of tears like Apollo has seen very few times before covering them. "I didn't... I was trying to help."

And just like that, just as quickly as it came, the anger fades back, and Apollo feels absolutely awful. "I know. Hey, easy there, don't mess up your breathing. It's fine. You're fine."

"Not fine." Clay's eyes rake pointedly over the medical equipment surrounding them. "But... I will be. Or... close enough. Though I probably... won't be able to make it into... space now. Not with... jacked up lungs."

"You'll make it." Apollo carefully gathers Clay's other hand in his, holding both in a firm grip. "We're going to get you better, and you're going to get up into space. Do you think Starbuck and the rest of the Space Center crew would settle for anything less?"

Clay blinks several times, and eventually the tears fade away. "Hard to... get into space if I'm... sitting in a jail cell, too."

"Well..." Apollo grins. "I may know a defense attorney or two who would be willing to argue there were extenuating circumstances for everything."

There were." Clay sighs, a puff of white clouding the inside of the oxygen mask. "But I know... how much you hate being lied to. And I... hated having to lie. I'm glad... you know everything. You can... forgive me?"

It shouldn't be this easy. He thinks maybe it won't be this easy, not really—thinks maybe he will remember that Clay can lie to him and make it seem convincing, will remember that there are loyalties Clay can place above their friendship.

But Clay is alive, and he hasn't lied at all to Apollo since Apollo found that out, and Apollo desperately wants to just be happy now. To just enjoy the fact that his best friend is alive and sitting here with him, rather than in a morgue somewhere, and so what if everyone Apollo loves and respects sometimes thinks it's best to keep him in the dark?

No. That's not fair, not true, and not what he wants. Squeezing Clay's hands, Apollo smiles. "It's forgiven. It's fine."

Clay's mouth quirks into a tentative half-smile. "You're fine, Justice."

"Yeah?" Apollo's smile grows. "You're fine, Terran."

"We're fine."

They say it in unison, and Clay's hands squeeze Apollo's as Clay puffs out his careful, quiet laugh. "You're the best, 'Pollo. The absolute best."

Apollo doesn't believe it, but Clay does, Apollo's bracelet hanging loose around his wrist as Apollo fiddles with Clay's pillows and blankets for the hundredth time.

And perhaps that's all that's needed to start making everything honestly fine again.

XXX

"You lied to me."

Phoenix stares at the Chief Prosecutor, currently ensconced behind his office desk, though they are both holding a glass of rather expensive wine.

"I did." Miles takes a sip. "I lied to a great many people over the last few days. I thought it was necessary."

"Apollo..." Phoenix paces the length of the office again. "Do you have any idea how hard the last few days have been on him?"

"I do, actually." Miles' tone is dry. "I am not unfamiliar with grief and sorrow, Wright. But I assumed he would prefer a few days of perhaps-needless sorrow to actually burying his friend."

"Ngh." Phoenix scrubs a hand over his face.

Miles raises one eyebrow. "Not so keen on manipulation when it's being used on you, I see?"

"I am not—..." Phoenix trails off, because it is no longer an unfair accusation. He has learned how to manipulate, and he has used it against friends as well as foes over the last few years. "You aren't going to logic chess me into saying that this was all right, so stop trying to do it. How did you even manage this?"

"I had Detective Gumshoe at the Center along with Detective Fulbright." Miles takes another sip of his wine. "The list of people that I trusted implicitly during this case was incredibly small—you, the detective. I was fairly certain I would be able to pick up any abnormalities in behavior in Detective Skye, Prosecutor DeBeste, or Prosecutor Gavin, given our histories, but not entirely. So I tried to have the detective surreptitiously present wherever I wished to be present but couldn't be. It was Detective Gumshoe who realized that Mr. Terran was still alive—just barely—and saw to it that he was delivered without incident to the paramedics. He then called me, and I instructed him to arrange it so that Mr. Terran was declared dead on arrival at the hospital."

"Even though he wasn't."

Miles inclines his head. "For the first two days it almost wasn't a lie. Mr. Terran had been grievously injured. He had been stabbed in the chest, in such a way that he likely saw the one who stabbed him. I thought perhaps he might be able to give us a few more clues as to the Phantom's true identity. I also thought that would make him a prime target for the Phantom while he was hospitalized and vulnerable."

"And so he's been officially dead. Because there's no need to assassinate dead men." Phoenix collapses into the chair across from Miles. He has to admit that it makes a certain kind of terrible sense, though having watched Apollo bleed invisibly for the last five days makes it hard for him to accept it. "And did you get something useful out of it?"

"Well, Mr. Terran is still alive. I consider that a win." Miles sets his own glass down. "And yes, he was able to give me some new pieces of evidence that led to me suspecting Detective Fulbright was not all he seemed to be."

"And now?"

"Now we inform those close to him—his father and Apollo and the space center staff—that Mr. Terran is alive. Tomorrow I make an announcement to the public." Miles shrugs. "And then we all move on, finally."

"I still don't like it, you know."

"I know." Miles meets his eyes evenly. "Being kept in the dark about events that will have an emotional impact on yourself or those dear to you is never a pleasant experience."

"If this is about how long I kept quiet about Kristoph—"

"You let me suspect everyone I worked with for months—years—before finally telling me the whole truth."

"I just wanted your unbiased opinions, because I wasn't certain exactly what had happened, either!"

"I just wanted to keep the boy alive, Wright." Miles' hand clenches into a tight fist for a moment before he very intentionally settles it down on the desk. "There have already been far too many good people killed or injured in this pointless affair."

"Well..." Phoenix sighs before emptying his own wine glass in one long drought. "I guess I have to agree with you there. Clay's going to be all right now?"

"For certain definitions of all right. He's down a half a lung and he's likely got three to four months of rehabilitation ahead of him, to say nothing of the physical and mental scars that I'm sure this will leave." Miles closes his eyes, and Phoenix can see the toll the last few months have taken on him in the slump of his shoulders, the slight muss to his hair. "But he will live. Blackquill will live. Your newest protege goes free."

"Not a bad ending. Not perfect, not by a long shot, but not a bad ending." Phoenix hauls himself to his feet, moving around the desk and holding out a hand to Miles. "You haven't eaten yet. Care to come to dinner with Trucy and Athena and I?"

Miles studies his hand uncertainly for a moment, one eyebrow raised. "No questions about my leaving Apollo at the hospital?"

"I'm sure he wanted to stay. If I were him I would have wanted to stay." Phoenix bends down, grabbing Miles' hand in his and hauling until Miles finally stands.

"Detective Gumshoe will either bring him home at the end of his shift or arrange for him to stay there." Miles' expression is hesitant as he follows Phoenix towards the door. "You're sure I'm welcome at dinner tonight? Your little crew—"

"Includes you." Phoenix holds the door to the Chief Prosecutor's office so that Miles can exit, giving a little bow as Miles walks past. "Come on, Uncle Miles. Let's go celebrate a victory that ended up being far less Pyrrhic than either of us expected."

"Oh, Wright, you're learning." Miles smiles as he pulls his car keys out. "One day perhaps you'll even be able to keep up with me in chess."

"I've beaten you in chess."

"Without your daughter's help."

Phoenix smiles as he follows Edgeworth down the stairs and towards the parking garage. "Just shut up and drive, Prosecutor Edgeworth."

XXX

Apollo wakes when someone drapes a blanket across his shoulders.

He didn't mean to fall asleep. He and Clay had talked until Clay's eyes were drooping, his answers becoming disconnected from the conversation. After Clay responded to a question about Starbuck with the assertion that DNA strands could, conceivably, travel through space on meteors and comets, Apollo had very firmly instructed him to stop fighting and go to sleep.

Advice that Apollo apparently followed himself, without meaning to.

"Sorry." Detective Gumshoe runs a hand along his neck, looking sheepish. It's impressive, given the man's size, how unassuming and non-threatening he manages to look. "Didn't mean t' wake you. You were just shiverin' a little bit."

"No, it's fine." Apollo blinks, sitting up and pulling the blanket tight around him. He is a little bit chilly. "I should probably go home, anyway."

"You can. I'm gonna be headin' home in the next fifteen minutes, and I can drop you off somewhere, if you want." Gumshoe nods towards Clay's sleeping form. "Or you can stay, keep watchin' over him. I think he's glad t' have more people t' talk to."

"I can imagine. Clay's never been one for calm and quiet." Apollo tries to keep his voice soft, to keep from waking his friend.

"Well, seein' as he's best friends with you, I imagine he learned pretty quick t' be loud." Gumshoe's grin takes any potential insult out of the words, and the big man reaches out to pull the blanket up and tuck it more firmly around Apollo's shoulders. "And don't you worry about wakin' him, once he lets himself sleep, he sleeps like the dead."

Apollo can feel his grin falter at the... unfortunate word choice.

"Aw, geez, I'm sorry." Gumshoe claps Apollo on the shoulder, the friendly blow still driving him down into the chair. "You don't have to worry. He's gonna be fine. Docs are happy with how he's comin' along."

"That's good." Apollo draws a long breath, his hands clutching the blanket. "I'm glad."

"And I know that he'll do even better, now that you're here. Nothin' like having friends around to make convalescin' easier." Gumshoe beams with pride. "Convalescin' is what Prosecutor Edgeworth says when he means restin' after injury."

"It's a good word." Suppressing a smile, Apollo studies the man who has been protecting Clay for the last few days. "Thank you. For keeping him safe."

"No problem, pal. That's what detectives are supposed to do, after all." There is genuine fondness in Gumshoe's eyes as he studies Clay. "And I do like your friend. He's got a good head and a good heart, even if he made some not-so-bright decisions over the last couple weeks."

"Yeah." Apollo grins, happy to hear someone else recognizing what an amazing man Clay is. "Even at his dumbest and most infuriating, Clay's a good guy."

"It fits. He'd have to be a good man, to be associated with you 'n' your boss." Gumshoe nods, as though he's just presented some decisive evidence.

Apollo blinks furiously, trying to figure out what he might have missed. Perhaps he's too tired to hold down a conversation properly right now.

"I'm friends with Detective Skye." Gumshoe offers the information as though it explains everything. "She likes you."

"Oh really?" Apollo wasn't aware that flinging snacks at someone was a sign of affection.

"Yeah. She's gotten a little bit rough around the edges as she's grown up, but she thinks you're a good attorney and a decent guy, and both of those things're high praise comin' from Ema."

"I'm glad to hear she likes me." He is, too, more than he probably should be. It's just... nice to know that others are noticing and appreciating his efforts. "And I know she's fond of my boss."

"Well, he did save her and her sister. I helped with that as much as they'd let me, and so did Prosecutor Edgeworth." Gumshoe leans back against the wall, his hands in his pockets, a fond smile of reminiscence on his face. "I've know your boss for a really long time. Over a decade, now. We didn't really get off t' the best start—I kind of thought he was a murderer for a bit—but I like him. He's tough. Crafty. Did you know he took on the mafia twice? I helped both times, too."

"I think I've seen those case files, yeah." Apollo has surreptitiously gone through all of Phoenix's old case files that he can get his hands on, trying to figure out where the truth is—how much of Phoenix is the hero Apollo loved when he was younger, and how much of him is the evidence-forging, infuriating man who goaded Apollo into punching him. The truth, as it usually does, seems to lie somewhere in between the two extremes.

Apparently he will have to re-read some of those files, see which censored name—minor's names are usually blocked out—could belong to Ema Skye.

Or... probably it would be better just to ask her. He would appreciate more being asked than having someone snoop through case files looking for the dark times in his past.

Gumshoe's hand lands on his shoulder again, and Apollo jerks his eyes open, his gaze up to meet the big detective's. "You're a good kid, Apollo Justice. I'm real glad to see kids like you gettin' involved in the system. Kids who're after the truth and not just tryin' to be the craftiest sneaky lawyer."

Apollo is beginning to suspect that Gumshoe had some bad experiences with lawyers in the past. "It's what everyone should do—try to find true justice."

"And it's nice t' see people who think like that everywhere again. In the Prosecutor's Office, among the detectives, on the defense's bench... really makes it feel like the Dark Age of the Law is comin' to a close, finally." The relief that radiates from Gumshoe is almost palpable. "So, stayin' or leavin'?"

Apollo studies Clay's sleeping face—studies the monitors that glow and beep, everything a cheerful green and a steady rhythm right now. "I'd... really like to stay, if it won't be a problem."

"It won't be. The nurses might wake you up when they come to check on him, but it'll be fine." Gumshoe once more adjusts the blanket around Apollo, stepping back when he's satisfied. "You sleep well, Mr. Justice. Me and Ema'll make sure nothing happens."

"Thanks." Apollo hunkers down more comfortably in his chair, feeling his cheeks heat at the unexpected kindness.

It doesn't take him long to fall asleep, though, and for the first time all week, Apollo feels relaxed and safe as he does, no nightmares waiting to claim him as soon as he closes his eyes.