Title: Mind's Eye

Fandom: Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney

Rating: T

Summary: In which the Fey family power is vastly different, and the world at a whole is not the same.

II.

Mia will be disappointed in her.

Maya's eyes twitch under closed lids. She's not sure how much time has passed since she fell into this spell of unconsciousness— the world is coming back, bit by bit, but she find she can't muster the energy to meet it.

She'd told Mia that her powers were under control, that she could handle the city—

Tears well in the corners and stream down her face. What she had seen was no nightmare, no mad dream scaring her into reality. Instead of waking up, she had passed out instead, and if that wasn't a tragedy in itself—

Beyond the fragile veneer of sleep she hides behind comes the sound of footsteps. Quiet shuffling, the sounds of a living being moving in the space that is her sister's office, interacting with unknown surroundings— the klink of glass. A faint rustle of crumpling paper. The slightest hitch in otherwise even breathing…

And the light. Oh, the light, blooming through the velvet darkness in oranges and yellows and golds. She can still see it, even though the sounds are far away, even with her eyes closed, and it's this light that finally makes Maya Fey wake up. The eyes remain firmly closed, however, as the searing pain from before surfaces first and foremost in her rational train of thought. Her head is aching, her skin feels hot and stretched, and the whole experience is not unlike this one time she had laid out to sunbathe one hot summer day without putting any sunscreen on prior to doing so…

An old memory also tugs at the corners of her mind, of a trip and pretending to be powerful when she really was not—

Mia letting her lay down on her lap and stroking her hair as she shivered and cried with a cover over her aching eyes

Maya needs to wake up. She can't stay like this, no matter how hard she wants to never wake up, to never look on that awful scene ever again, but the soft glow from beyond makes her nervous. Maya can't ever remember losing so much control over her Sight before, even in the most extreme of circumstances…

Only this was far beyond extreme

…And she almost had the sense to feel embarrassed for her utter failure. Though, Maya hadn't expected to still see this… aura… even with her eyes closed. How the heck was that even possible…?

Ignoring the stinging, the ghostly aftereffects of imaginary flame, Maya Fey breathes in, once, and out, calming herself enough to focus on her Eyes again, praying that she hasn't somehow blinded them for life, and—

Closes them.

The glow fades. Once again, Maya is in control of herself (how tentative that control is, she doesn't know…) but the lingering curiosity remains. Never before has she met someone so… bright, so strong-blooded with whatever lineage flowed in their veins that their true form would burn her like it had.

The light may be gone now, but the fact remains that something powerful looms beyond, something that she can never let her concentration waver around, and for the first time, Maya realizes why M— the adults were so reluctant to let her visit the city.

…Maya can think as much as she wants, but she still needs to open her eyes. To come face to face with the world.

So she does.

… and regrets it, when the scent of blood makes itself known and her stomach roils in turn. Quick as a flash Maya rolls off the sofa she's been laying on and tries to find a trashcan, something, anything she can use to save herself from embarrassment only she can't find anything oh god she was gonna be—

It turns out to be a good thing she hadn't eaten since breakfast, as Maya heaves and her stomach flips, but nothing comes out. Still, she huddles on the floor fighting back tears of shame from breaking out and waiting everything to settle again.

…and once again remembers that she is not alone. For there is movement, a dark shape, a quiet exclamation…

…as a man emerges from Mia's office. Yes, it is a man, something Maya can actually see now that her Eyes are firmly closed tight against the shining, burning aura he'd given off before, except… (no, she couldn't possibly be seeing embers. Those had to be after-images… right?)

Somehow he overlooks Maya entirely, focusing entirely on the sofa where she'd been laid out (how'd she get there, anyway…?) and looking back and forth in panic— but then, she'd up and disappeared on him, huh?

She might not know who this riddle-wrapped stranger is, but she takes a deep breath either way— she's taken a lot of those today— and steps forward, hands clasped tight as she makes known her presence.

Phoenix Wright has a kind face.

That's one of the few things Maya can manage to think, anyway, since she's still half-expecting to wake up and discover that everything is a nightmare of her own making, not… not this horrible reality. The scent of blood is making her sick and she fidgets and tears at her fingernails the longer she has to stand, and the only thing she can think is Phoenix Wright has a kind face.

Maya assumes that this strange man is Mr. Phoenix, anyway. It can't be anyone else— he hadn't really introduced himself, only reassured her that he worked in the office, but… Mia promised to introduce her to Fey & Co's sole junior partner. Which meant… this man had to be him? Who else would be here, at the darkened offices late at night?

Well, the murderer might.

Wild accusations leap to the foreground of her thoughts. Maya squashes them instantly; she'd arrived first, not this stranger, and if anything she would be the one to look… suspicious…

Oh no. Oh no no, he wouldn't be thinking… he couldn't possibly think…? Nah…

A throat clears itself, and Maya belatedly remembers that a name had been asked for… her name, which she should probably share.

"…Maya," she manages to speak in a tone barely above a whisper, feeling as if she's hearing her voice from someplace far away from here, "Maya Fey."

He seems surprised by this. The faint sound of rustling paper reaches her ears, and his hand is clenching— holding onto something hidden from her view. She folds her hands in front of her, and tries listening to the pounding in her head, the blood rushing sluggishly through her body. A headache might be coming on; she can feel it, like taiko drums in a low, rolling rumble before the switch to a harsher, more bombastic pattern.

The other sole inhabitant in the room seems hesitant to speak, and he clears his throat quietly before asking again, haltingly, apologetically—

"Can… you tell me what happened?"

Oh, god, why would he ask something like that? Why? Shouldn't she wait, shouldn't she be telling this to the police instead of a stranger in a blue suit and spiky hair, to someone who can do something about the lifeless body in the other room? But somehow Maya answers, choking out what little she knew (remembered) of that first horrible step into an office that had no right to be so dark— (Sis… Sis!)

A sob. Presumably-Phoenix changes tactics, the mysterious paper in his hand crinkling again. His voice is still soft, and he asks about safer ground, about who she was to Mia, to his chief. Oh, he didn't know…?

"…I'm her younger sister," she says quietly, far more evenly than what she should be sounding like, and Maya hates herself a little for it.

"You were… visiting? This late at night?"

"Sh-She wanted me to keep some evidence for her…"

"Evidence…?"

The clock. The 'Thinker.' The stupid statue with the stupid shape and kiddy design that her sister had thought she would like, without even knowing that the very same clock would be used to—

"Hey, um…"

Stupid stupid stupid Mia she knew it was dangerous to keep evidence but she did it anyway why didn't she—

"—In blood. She wrote it… on the back of this receipt."

Wait, what? Maya blinks, and there's a piece of paper under her nose. Phoenix Wright had finally opened his hand, revealing the thin strip of white paper that looked rather hastily flattened out, crumpled beyond relief and sporting dark letters that looked a little like—

Oh. Oh.

"Th-That's my name," Maya chokes, stumbling back on shaky legs away from the bold letters that were much too big and ominous for her now. She feels her eyes widening, her fingers digging into clammy palms slick with sweat. "Wh-Why would she write my name? I don't—"

"H-Hey, calm down," Phoenix Wright tries to say to her, and the receipt vanishes speedily from view, but the damage is done. Why was her name on the receipt? Did… Had Mia tried to tell her something? Had she still been alive when Maya first set foot on the threshold, had she taken her last breath while Maya panicked like a little kid and not the adult she'd said she was—

"Why would Sis write my name?" Maya repeats, and her voice climbs an octave higher as she feels the hysteria bubble up from below the surface, from where she'd stuffed it all away. She knows what it must look like now— bad. How could she explain it? First on the scene, passing out next to her own sister's body, with her name in blood on a scrap of paper…

The pained look on Phoenix Wright's face indicates just how much he's put his foot in it, but in this moment of disorientation Maya reads it as an accusation which is not true not true I didn't kill anyone oh no oh Mia help me please—

And just like that, her tentative control is slipping away.

Against her will the protective veil is burning, falling into ash as once again her power seeps into the air and coils with frightening tension.

She feels the space around them begin to hum. She seesasPhoenix Wright takes a rapid step back, as whatever runs in his blood reacts to this change— He can feel the change? He's starting to glow again, as her Eyes open when they haven't even recovered from whatever it was they had seen a scant few moments before, and she can't survive that light again, not now, not in such a fragile state, not while the phantom pain lingers and burns.

Maya Fey is two years old again. And she is afraid.

With a quiet wail she sinks to the floor, pressing her hands tight to her eyes and shutting out as much of the material world as she can. This is like nothing she'd ever trained to deal with, and at this moment she doesn't want to see, or feel, or think. She's afraid of what might happen if she does.

She doesn't see, or feel, or think, even when the police arrive.

Not even when they take her away.

Ironically it's the detention center that ends up helping the most. The ambient energy is cold, flat, emotionless— the perfect atmosphere to calm her frayed nerves. It also serves marvelously well in dousing the last vestiges of the phantom flames behind her Eyes, in cooling the heated blood in her veins, and after only a few hours in county jail Maya Fey is finally thinking clearly again.

The detective wastes no time in taking advantage of this, no matter how unintentionally it is. Still, it's with a certain zombie-like quality that Maya answers what is asked of her—

Yes, she'd gone to her sister's office that night.

Yes, they'd been alone.

No… No, she'd already been dead.

No, she doesn't know why her name was found on the scene.

She didn't kill anyone. Least of all her sister.

It's almost funny. Meditation had been her least favorite activity, but she's reached some kind of Zen mode just by sitting and being interrogated by a scruffy detective with an almost non-existent glamour. Clearly he doesn't use it much except for the barest of cover; his blood must not be very strong. But there are sharp teeth in his mouth when she checks, and the smallest point to his ears, so there's something, anyway.

The detective gives up partway through the interrogation, and scratches his head as he leaves. He looks unnerved; she'd been a little too obvious in her scrutiny. But she doesn't feel particularly guilty, not this time, not to the man who'd arrested her and brought her… here.

Mainly she wants to sleep. She gets a few hours.

The guard wakes her up to tell her she has a visitor.

And that's how Maya finds herself on one side of a glass window, staring at one defense attorney Phoenix Wright.

She knew for sure, this time— he'd introduced himself properly, and she bobs her head while hoping she doesn't look as terrible as she feels. There's still some ugly stuff not quite washed away inside.

However… there is also curiosity. Here, in the cold, impersonal atmosphere of the detention center, Maya finally has a grip on her powers she feels confident in. Her emotions aren't so completely out of whack now, and so she can't help herself.

She stares.

Tilts her head just a little bit one side, then the other. Sure, there's hesitation— still some itching, still a faintly nightmarish quality to the memory of this last horrible night, and Maya can't bring herself to open Them all the way like with the detective, but…

She Squints. She can't help it. It's not the best of manners, to stare so blatantly in the middle of conversation like this (Phoenix seems determined to draw whatever he can about last night out of her) but frankly, Maya's been through enough that she simply doesn't care about protocol or common courtesy, her inhibitions have been lowered enough in the past twenty-four hours to bypass them completely. The elders would scold her for this, if they were here.

Mia would scold her. Her powers didn't exist for her to abuse them.

Maya Fey stares with heavy Eyelids at Phoenix Wright… the real one. Not man in a blue suit and spiky hair that defied gravity a little too much, but the one underneath.

The one that shone in undulating ripples of red and gold.

The one that radiated a warmth she could feel even through the thick walls of concrete and glass that separated them.

The one that was, for lack of a better word…

"…Well, let's just say he's a bit… dazzling."

"You're doing that thing again."

Maya blinks, and her Sight snaps shut, banishing the mesmerizing aura that was Phoenix Wright back into obscurity. Phoenix Wright in question is staring at her, and there's an odd look on his face… a confused look. A suspicious look.

"…Sorry, what?" Maya asks faintly, and this time she has the decency to feel a little guilty. The detective was one thing, but her sister's junior partner is actually trying to help her, so she really shouldn't be…

"You were staring like that at the office, too. It's… creeping me out, seriously."

Phoenix runs an agitated hand through his hair, and for a second Maya could swear she sees sparks jumping from the ends of the spiky strands. She follows their path through the air and all the way to the ground, where they fizzle out… but this is a mistake, as when she looks up again Phoenix Wright seems even more stricken, sitting rigid in his chair.

"…Sorry," she sighs instead, dropping her gaze. Okay, now she's admittedly being rude. She'd drop the matter at this point… Except, Phoenix doesn't seem keen to let it go as he draws a sharp breath, eyes flashing in a sudden expression of dawning realization… and a little fear.

(And a little bit of orange, but she's not gonna mention that right now.)

He seems to come to some kind of conclusion on his own. "Oh. Oh, no. Am I…"

Hang on. This isn't the realization she'd expected… all at once, Phoenix Wright seems… ashamed.

"I'm so sorry. I'm showing, aren't I?" the lawyer stammers, and just like that he's like an embarrassed school kid getting caught with a comic book behind his spelling worksheets. "I-I haven't slept at all tonight. I'm usually pretty good with stress, I swear, but sometimes I… Oh, no! It was my fault you fainted last night, wasn't it? I am so sorry, it was just… I mean, Mia… The chief! The chief was… I-I smelled blood and I must've came in a little strong, I—"

…Okay, this is weird. Maya hadn't expected the slew of apologizes to come bursting out. She's not sure how to deal with this. It wasn't his fault, he wasn't the one to lose control, so without really thinking she's making apologies of her own.

"No, No, it wasn't you! I was being rude," Maya says, hastily waving her hands in an attempt to placate, "I-I have a bad habit of staring! Please! I mean, your glamour's perfectly fine right now, it just doesn't really affect me, so please just…"

They both stop speaking. Abruptly. And stare at each other.

"…Did you just say it… doesn't affect you?"Phoenix asks, not a little incredulous.

…Great. Now she's embarrassed. Her face feels a couple degrees hotter.

"I… yes." She says. Squeaks, more like it. Phoenix Wright stares a little more, then sits back heavily in his seat. His mouth his hanging open.

"I've never heard of that happening. What are you?" he asks— then clamps his mouth shut. "Wow, that was straightforward. You don't have to answer that."

"No, it's fine. I guess I kinda owe you an answer, but…"

Maya Fey shrugs, clasping her hands together in a nervous manner. It's a little weird he doesn't know already, considering his boss was her sister, who is… was… had been even stronger than her…

"It's just…" she starts off hesitantly, "I, um, have the Sight. You see, I'm... a sorceress."

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And the second part is up! I was going for meaningful suspense by waiting to say what the twist was until now... hopefully that worked.

Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed.