When the World Stops Turning

Fresh from her prison stint, Lana Skye is searching for the place she belongs – who is she now that SL-9 is completely behind her? Little does she know it will take the soft touch and sharp whip of a certain prosecutor to answer that question.

A/N: Hello, friends! We are at the beginning of a new story that's a spin-off/prequel of sorts to my other AA fanfic, Magnetism. Reading Magnetism before this is not required, though there will be some loose ties made between these stories. This piece is going to be pretty short, and I am hoping not to drag the writing process on too long. Maybe, just maybe, if I'm feeling productive I will finish all of my outstanding stories around the same time (gasp!).

Anyway, let me know what you think about these two and my portrayal of Lana. She's obviously found her old self by the time we hit Magnetism, but this story will show us how we got there. I am not going to make her too down, but she's going to be confused and struggle a bit. Thank goodness Franny is around. ;)

Review away, all!

Chapter One: Chance Encounters

I take a deep breath, swallowing the air hard and pulling it as far into my lungs as I can as I brace for them to open the doors. The past year hasn't been easy, and the hours have ticked by slowly, so slowly. But I lived, I am breaking through the surface and freedom awaits.

The cell slams open with a clang and they lead me out. I am sent to the infirmary, where they give me a shower and some clean, dry clothes. The clothes don't fit me very well – they're baggy and about ten years out of style – but it's something. Something that's not my prison jumpsuit. The paperwork seems to take years, but then, it's done and they're showing me out.

Ema is waiting for me in the lobby, and my heart swells when I see her. She looks so happy, like this is the best moment of her life, and she flings her arms around me, pulling me close. We haven't shared a hug since the day they put Gant away. Prison rules.

I knew Edgeworth went easy on me with this plea deal, and I took it readily. Being convicted in court of conspiracy to commit murder would have hit me with a much longer sentence. I could have spent the rest of my life behind bars, possibly, but the prosecutor's office and the precinct both saw the good in me, and that I could still serve, maybe, someday.

Ema releases me and I push her hair back and out of her eyes. She's been studying in Europe and she looks well rested and clean and healthy and, most of all, safe, which is all that I wanted. "Mr. Edgeworth said he would wait outside," she says. "He won't admit it, but he was worried about you, too."

I hug her again, afraid if I let go that she might vanish. I owe Edgeworth for keeping an eye on her. She's right, though, he'll never admit that he did anything for her. Or for me.

I remember when he was finishing law school and worked under me as part of the work-study element of his last graduate course. He reminded me a lot of myself at his age: dedicated, passionate, hard-working and ruthlessly driven in his own way. I didn't think, then, though that he'd save my life, and my sister's.

Him, and Phoenix Wright.

Ema tugs on my hand and pulls me toward the door. And then I'm outside, and a free woman. I'd been out in the exercise yard during my incarceration, but the sun felt so much warmer now. It felt like life, when before it was just a big orb that made us squint and hunger for the dank warmth of our cells.

Edgeworth's car – the same slick, red sports car I'd once stuffed a detective's corpse into – is idling down the curved front drive in front of the prison, where visitors are asked to park. Ema opens the passenger door for me and I slide in. They both act cautiously, as if I am a skittish animal. "Chief Prosecutor, it's good to see you again," Edgeworth says formally.

I smile at him, and it feels real and like me, the person I was once. I want to find her. "I'm not the chief prosecutor anymore, Mr. Edgeworth," I reply. "But it is nice to see you as well after...everything."

He doesn't reply, but pulls out of the looped drive. Ema leans forward between the seats. "But, sis, you could always become the chief prosecutor again!" she says cheerfully.

I want to laugh at her, but I don't. She's so eager, and so happy that I'm free, that the consequences of the past two years haven't sunk in yet for her. So I'll put it to her gently, and eventually she will see. "I don't think that would happen, Em," I tell her. Edgeworth glances at me, and I can tell he knows that I'm underplaying it.

I'll never prosecute again, that much is certain. Even if the Prosecutor's Office would take me back, I don't want to go back. Sitting at that desk again would make me feel like he was still watching me, controlling me. His laughter still rings in my ears some days.

"Oh, well..." Ema looks bemused, as if she expected everything to just go back to normal now that I am out of prison. "I mean, maybe..." She settles back in her seat, arms crossed over her chest as she thinks.

I let it go, knowing that there is no point in making this hard for her. "Have you had lunch yet?" I ask, changing the subject. "They returned my debit card and my driver's license when they released me...so it would be on me!"

That perks her up again. "How about some burgers? I bet they didn't serve you anything like that in there!" She's leaning forward again, and I brush a wayward strand of hair out of her eyes.

"That sounds great, Ema," I say. Edgeworth remains silent, but I notice that he is clenching the steering wheel harder than he had been before we'd started to talk about lunch. "What about you, Mr. Edgeworth?"

"I..." He chooses his words carefully, as he always does. "Burgers sound great," he finally says.

"Yay!" Ema pulls her phone out of her pocket. "I'll call Nick, too, I'm sure he'd be really excited to join us." As she sits back to make the call, I glance at Edgeworth. His shoulders are tense and his knuckles have turned white around the steering wheel.

So that's what it is. It's Wright that sets him on edge. I'd been there, myself, many times. Admiration, respect, even love – for those of us ruled by our fears, they are the most painful emotions of all. "That's all right with you, Mr. Edgeworth?"

After a long moment, he nods. "Sure, Wright is welcome."

It was forced, and a lie, but it's better than I expected. Ema hangs up, a pleased grin on her face. "Mr. Edgeworth, you know where the diner is, right? The usual one?"

I can tell it's not usual for him, but likely he knows it all too well. Everything that has to do with Phoenix Wright probably sticks with him. "Yes," he answers shortly.

We drive in amicable silence before he reaches the restaurant. Phoenix beat us there, two young girls with him. I don't recognize them by sight, but I have a good idea of who they are. I climb out of the car. "Mr. Wright, you look well," I tell him. "It's much nicer seeing you under these circumstances."

He smiles. "Sure is, Ms. Skye." His smile changes into a broad grin for my little sister. "Ema, you remember Maya, right?"

The two teenage girls size each other up before Ema suddenly pulls the other into a hug. "Of course, how could I forget?" she says. "And you must be little Pearly. Maya told me about you."

The little girl shrinks back a bit from my boisterous sister, but there is a genuine smile on her face. "N—Nice to meet you," Pearl says softly.

Wright and Edgeworth look at each other, and an unspoken conversation passes between them. I can feel the crackle, but I ignore it and head into the diner. Edgeworth suddenly pushes past me, and without thinking I place a hand on his arm. He watches me for a moment, steadied, but says nothing.

Lunch seems to pass by too quickly, but before I know it I'm paying the bill. Wright hasn't changed since that case, and I take more pleasure in that than I expected I would. At least one of us wasn't completely destroyed, ruined by SL-9.

Ema is surprisingly quiet during the meal, and she keeps glancing at me like she's afraid I'm going to disappear. I brush her hair back, though the hat she's wearing makes it hard. And when she smiles, everything is worth it again. And after that, she finds her voice, chattering with Wright's assistant and making the same ruckus I remember so well from when she was a child.

But she's not anymore. Ema is nearly 18, and I realize in that silly, cozy diner that I missed out on so much of her – both before prison and after. A pang of guilt seizes my chest for a moment, and then a hand touches my arm. I glance up at Edgeworth, who is as unreadable as ever. He pulls away quickly, but I'm surprised by how calming the gesture is.

In the parking lot, sufficiently full of burgers and content, we part ways with Wright and the two young mediums. They hail a taxi and return, I assume, to their office.

"Well, Ema, what's next?" I ask her.

She beams at me. "We're going to have to stop at Mr. Edgeworth's place," she says. "He offered to have you stay there while we find you a new apartment and get your old job back." I lift my eyebrows up at him, but he demurs, looking away from me. "He has a ridiculously huge house, Lana, it's so nice…and your room is so pretty! I've been helping clean it up and stuff since I got back to America, and…" Suddenly, her expression changes. "I just realized that I have to leave really soon."

I pull her into a hug to keep her from crying. "It's okay, Em," I tell her, stroking her shoulder. "We'll do everything you want while you're still here."

She jumps up, clapping her hands. "Oh, yay! Sis, I'm so happy you're back."

"You have no idea," I reply. She clamors into the backseat while I climb in next to Edgeworth. "Thank you for all of this, really. You didn't have to."

He shrugs, the mask of indifference back on his face. "It was the least I could do for you, chief prosecutor."

I smile. "You don't give yourself a lot of credit, Mr. Edgeworth, but you're really a nice guy."

The blush on his face is evident, a bright red, as he pulls out of the parking lot. "Th—thanks, Ms. Skye."

Ema leans up between the seats, grinning. "Yeah, Mr. Edgeworth, you're just the best!" We both laugh at him as his blush gets redder.

Laughing feels so good, better than I remember.

It is a fairly long drive before we reach Edgeworth's house, as he lives outside the city in a ritzy gated community. The perks of being from the von Karma school, I wager, but I don't say that out loud. His home is one of several cookie-cutter manors in the development, but I recognize it immediately by the resplendent, dark, almost-maroon shade of the brick. "This house feels very you, Mr. Edgeworth," I say as he parks in the large garage. Another car, a sleek black convertible, is parked beside us. "You also have…a taste for sports cars."

He winces, much to my surprise. "That one's not mine. I have…another guest." He climbs out of the car.

"He's talking about Ms. von Karma," Ema explains as we follow him inside.

I'd heard her name before, but I had already left the prosecutors' office after she came to the United States. Tales said she is just as talented as her father and her adopted brother, though she also fell to Wright in the end. I'd also heard she was extraordinarily young for her accomplishments.

And that she has a thing for whipping judges, witnesses and rival attorneys.

The garage leads into the kitchen, which was part of the main floor's open plan. Ema sinks into the living room couch. "Ah, this is the life."

I sit next to her, the cushions among the most comfortable I've ever sat in. "Ema wanted to show you around," Edgeworth says. "I'll leave her to it." He vanishes up the stairs.

"Well, sis?" She doesn't look like she wants to get up off the couch quite yet, but after a moment she rises and stretches her arms over her head. "Let's go find your room first."

She leads me upstairs, where there are five bedrooms, three bathrooms and an office. She pushes open the first bedroom door, closest to the stairs. The furnishings are simple and comfortable, but in that moment it seems like the most opulent room I've ever been in. Everything is grandiose compared to a prison cot. "This is beautiful, Ema," I tell her. She's filled a vase with small flowers and left it by the night stand, and the open window lets in a soft breeze.

"I'm so happy you like it, sis!" she says. "No one had stayed in here for a long time, so I had to do a lot of dusting and the linens all needed to be washed and…"

I squeeze her shoulder. "Thank you."

She grins, her happiness palpable. "Of course! I couldn't imagine what it would have been like to leave prison just to sleep on another lumpy bed."

"So you're the chief prosecutor?" a voice interrupts. We both turn and a tall, blue-haired woman is standing the doorway. Her face is haughty, but beautiful, and my mouth goes a little dry. I couldn't imagine something so gorgeous coming from Manfred von Karma.

"Y—Yes," I finally manage. "Well, I was. Lana Skye." I hold my hand out to shake, and it takes her a moment to grasp it, her gloved fingers wrapping around my own. "You're Ms. von Karma?"

"Yes, I am the pride of the von Karma line," she says as she pulls her hand back. I spot the whip coiled at her hip and my eyes dip down her thigh for a moment before lifting again to her face. She doesn't notice. "My little brother told me some things about you, and he said you were ruthless in the courtroom. I know the feeling all too well."

I don't remember being particularly ruthless – at least not to the point of whipping my colleagues – but I let the comment slide. "Well, I uh…took my job very seriously, Ms. von Karma."

She bows, much to my surprise. "I'll leave you to it, then." She disappears.

Ema links her arm through mine, obviously thinking nothing of Franziska's appearance. "Let's finish the tour so we can do something fun!"

The bathroom closest to my room is simple but elegant, and already equipped for me to use it. Ema shows me the room she's been staying in next. The furniture is nearly the same as mine, but her clothes, textbooks and lab kit are strewn across the floor. "Ema, really. You should take a little more care in someone else's house."

She shrugs. "I'll clean it up before Mr. Edgeworth sees." We pass by his office, not wanting to disturb him, but I peek through the crack in the door to find it decorated much like I remember his office in the city. We head back downstairs and examine the den, which almost feels like a movie theater, and the deck, which opens into a backyard pool. "So, let's hop in, sis! Come on!"

I open my mouth to protest, but she drags me back upstairs. She rifles through the dresser before handing me something. "What…?"

"I made sure to buy you some clothes before you came back," she says. "Because I wanted you to feel comfy, you know? And since there was a pool, I made sure to get you a swimsuit. It fit Ms. von Karma, and she's about your size."

She skips down the hallway to find her own bathing suit while I shimmy into mine to appease her. It's a very basic white one-piece, and it fits better than I expected. Ms. von Karma is taller than me, and I lost some weight while I was in prison. Ema returns in her own cute, pink bikini. "Well?" She holds out a towel.

The pool is a little cool for my liking, but I adjust quickly. It's not quite shower I've been wanting, but it suffices for the moment, the chilly water washing off the remnants of my jail cell. And watching Ema laugh and smile as she splashes around is more than worth dealing with the chill.

I did it for her. The lying, the pretending, all of it. And if she can still put a smile on her face, then so can I.

The days we spend at Edgeworth's stretch on like this, and Ema does everything she can to forget that she'll have to return to her studies sooner rather than later. And when the day comes when we have to part, I hug her so tight that I think she might burst in my embrace.

She's crying and so am I and we cling to each other for a long while.

And then she's gone. She set up a video chat on my new cell phone, so we'll be able to talk to each other every day if we want. But it feels like cruelty, more punishment, for her to have to leave me so soon after we reunited.

All I want, though, is for her to be safe and happy. And she's better off away from all of this until she finishes her studies and finds herself. When her plane lifts into the air, I hold back the tears, because I know this is the best thing for her.

That doesn't make it hurt any less.

Without Ema, the time passes slowly. Edgeworth's manor feels too large without her.

I meet with the chief of police, who, much to my surprise, is very interested in having me return to the force in some capacity. It was far more than I could hope for, but I know it will be a slow transition. I was involved in the death of one of their own, and it's not easy for any police officer to trust you again after something like that.

We both know it will be months before I am back on the job. Which means it could take just as long to get myself an apartment and stop relying on Edgeworth. He hasn't said anything about me leaving – and I know he won't – but I feel like an imposition.

That night, I curl up in the den with a stupid movie to distract myself from how slow my reintegration into society was going. It's a comedy that isn't particularly funny, all slapstick, not exactly the type of movie I'd expect Edgeworth to keep a copy of. But it's mindless and empty, so I can be that, too.

The movie seems to be close to its conclusion, though I haven't been able to discern any real plotline, when I hear the door open and footsteps enter. "I expected someone like you would be above something so base," she says. I blink at her, unsure what to say.

"It's not really my thing," I admit. "I just wanted to do something mindless."

Much to my surprise, Franziska sits next to me. "Well you've certainly found that," she says. She watches a scene before continuing. "Explain this, Adam Sandler character. He seems far too simple, and yet you Americans seem to love him."

I can feel my brow wrinkle. "Um…I don't really know his movies very well, this is…"

"And this story!" she continues, ignoring my words. "He has a remote control that allows him to pause time? Preposterous."

Franziska looks so bewildered, and she's also wearing ridiculous, cute kitten pajamas, and I find myself laughing at her. She glares, and it just makes it worse, and I find myself overcome by a fit of giggles. I haven't laughed like this since Ema left. "Ms. von Karma, it's just a movie," I tell her, trying to quiet my laughter.

And then she's laughing too, which I hadn't expected, and we're laughing together like we've known each other for years. It feels intimate, and when we've both stopped we just stare at each other. Our hands touch for the briefest of moments, and I don't know what to say to her. I feel a shiver run down my spine.

She pulls away from me and we don't speak until the credits are rolling. "Well that had exactly the ending I anticipated," she says, crossing her arms over her chest in irritation. "Please tell me my little brother has some more elegant fare than that." She stands and crosses the room to the rack of DVDs, plucking one from the shelf.

She pops it in and sits back down beside me as the previews begin to play. "What is it?" I ask her.

She waves me off. "You'll see."

I don't recognize the film from the DVD menu, and when she hits play it doesn't take long for me to figure out this is some kind of foreign film. The characters speak German, though I adjust quickly to the subtitles. The plot is political and deep, and I can tell she appreciates the gritty sepia tone that pervades the cinematography.

I've never seen someone so enraptured by a movie. I spend more of the time watching her than the film itself, and the way she is so absorbed in the story is one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen. Before I realize it, the movie is over, and she sits back, eyeing me quizzically. "What? Why are you looking at me like that?" She purses her lips, annoyed.

"I've just never seen someone so into a movie before," I tell her. "It was…" Breathtaking. "…different."

She looks angry at that. "So, that's what you think of me?" she huffs, glaring at me. I hold my hands up, defenseless.

"I didn't mean it like that—" She cuts me off and stands to pop in another movie. Once again I don't recognize it.

We continue on in companionable silence for what could have been minutes or hours. I almost fully sink into the sofa, and before I realize it, I'm blinking my eyes open at the menu. I immediately wonder if she was offended by me sleeping through another of her favorite movies, when I feel the heat of her against me.

Her head is on my shoulder, asleep with her lips parted slightly. She looks so young, and I remember she's not much older than Ema, despite her bristly veneer and years in law. I brush her hair out of her eyes and turn off the TV, leaving her to rest against me as I settle back into the corner of the couch.

Maybe it will be uncomfortable tomorrow, but for right now, I like having something that I can just hold on to. For the first time in a long time, I feel grounded.

A/N: And there you have it. This story isn't going to be quite the slow burn of Magnetism, a) because Lana is not incredibly dense and b) because I want it to be about a third of the length. This story has been rated M because the plot with end with some down and dirty lovin', but I'm saving that for last. I'm a little terrified, actually, because I don't have a lot of experience with lesbian scenes. But you know what that say, yolooooo.

I dunno why I ship this. I'm apparently a sucker for crack. Let me know what you think! I want everyone one to be on the Frana train asap. Love ya'llzzz.