The first thing Phoenix did upon waking was to cough a thin stream of bile onto somebody's shoes.
"Good," she said, and thrust a bottle at his lips. "You're awake." Water streamed into his mouth before he understood what was happening. The water that didn't end up on his shirt went down his throat the wrong way. It hurt to cough, but he couldn't stop hacking.
Where am I? His vision wouldn't focus. Wherever he was, it was dark. What's going on?
Footsteps walked away. A door opened into blinding brightness, then closed just as quickly. His room seemed darker than before.
Phoenix shook his head and instantly wished he hadn't. Need to think. That was hard. Had his head ever pounded this much before?
He was sitting on something. His legs wouldn't move: was he tied to a chair? Behind him were his hands, also bound. Focus. Acknowledging their presence made one hand start throbbing, and Phoenix gasped as the pain increased with each heartbeat that he felt hotly in his palm. Glass. Went through my hand... it was glass.
Memories slipped back to him as his vision adjusted. Lucy. It was Lucy Rhodes, and she'd come after him, not Edgeworth. Didn't expect that one.
Lucidity brought more pain with it. In fresh throbs, he became aware of all the other cuts decorating his arms and back. None compared to his hand, but some of the cuts were still deep. If a shirt stiff with dark stains wasn't enough of a warning, his unending dizziness was a sure sign that he'd lost a lot of blood.
He swallowed and looked at the dull glint of the plastic water bottle on the ground. It was a shame he hadn't been able to drink more. He needed to increase his blood volume however he could, and being dehydrated wouldn't help.
What did she hit me with? Phoenix groaned as a fresh wave of exhaustion crashed over him. Whatever had been in that syringe had a hell of a hangover. Inside that deadened state, he couldn't even feel fear. Not yet.
They have to know I'm gone. Maya. Edgeworth. Gumshoe. Everyone. They'll come. His eyes felt heavy again. He hoped it was drugs lingering in his system, and not the blood loss catching up with him, but Phoenix couldn't fight it either way. He slipped back into nothing and felt the world tilt.
The room was darker when he woke again, as dark as it had been behind his closed eyes, and Phoenix finally felt fear as he wondered if she'd blinded him. The drugs were gone and he was instantly aware of every cut and bruise on his battered body. "Hello?" he croaked through a dry throat. Why can't I see anything? "Hello?" Phoenix tried again, more desperate, and bit back a sob of mingled agony and terror when only silence answered.
"Hello?" he whispered. "Hello!" he screamed.
I'm going to die. Phoenix struggled against the rough nylon ropes even as they sliced into bleeding cuts. He was a wild animal in a trap, unable to do anything but panic; if that limb had to come off to free him, so be it.
"This isn't what I expected of you, Mr. Phoenix Wright."
The words jolted him, and Phoenix's fragile psyche latched on to what he desperately wanted to be true. Surely that was the woman's voice he'd heard. "Franziska! Help me, please, you need to get me out of here. Quick. Before she comes back."
Light bloomed in front of him. Phoenix coughed on the acrid smoke of the match, and his heart sank when he saw dark curls instead of a sleek, pale bob. "Who's Franziska?" asked Lucy. Her head tilted, and a thin smile grew. "Some girl you like?"
"No. A lawyer," he croaked, wanting more water. "She... she calls people by their full names, so I thought..." So he'd hallucinated a von Karma coming to his rescue. Things were even more dire than he'd realized. "And I'd rather see her than you." That probably wasn't the smartest thing to say to the psycho who had him bound in her kidnapper's hideout, but fuck it, he was in pain.
Lucy considered that for a second, then blew out the match. Light soon returned from a flashlight trained directly into Phoenix's eyes. It stabbed into the back of his skull and he flinched and turned away. She actually sounded disappointed when she spoke. "Oh."
He focused only on breathing until coherent thought returned. That disappointment in her voice... she wanted Franziska to be someone I cared about. I, me. Is this not about Edgeworth, after all? "Why did you do this?" Phoenix asked. He was suddenly very glad that he hadn't said Maya's name. Hopefully Lucy saw her as his office assistant and nothing more.
"To hurt that son of a bitch who killed my brothers," Lucy said, and Phoenix's gut twisted. If this was about Phoenix like he'd hoped, she'd want to keep him alive to make the pain last. That would give people a chance to find him. But if it was only about someone else... well, killing him would probably make Edgeworth pretty sad.
"And," Lucy continued, bringing the flashlight closer until his vision was bright red behind his tightly shut eyelids, "to hurt that son of a bitch who didn't save them like he promised me."
Oh. Well. So it was partially about him. That was... encouraging?
"Only one got death row," Phoenix said dumbly. It felt very important to point out that she couldn't say her brothers were condemned to death, not in the plural. Maybe correcting that mistake would fix everything. No. It won't. Nice try, though.
"Only one," Lucy repeated thickly. "Right. I only heard about how they're taking away one of my brothers to death row." Her laugh was strained. "Except no, they took two. They took them both."
"Good behavior," Phoenix said. "Jude could... he could be out early." Does seven or eight years count as early? If the comparison is a death sentence, maybe. His hands felt numb behind him. They were probably tied too tightly.
Lucy backhanded him. With his eyes still shut Phoenix hadn't expected that, and stars exploded across the inside of his eyelids. Lucy hissed, sounding as pained as him. "I never do this," she said like she was talking to herself, and seeming very, very sad. "I never... they would..."
She grabbed his tie and wrenched his neck forward. "Everyone hates us," Lucy cried. "If you couldn't get Jude off, you were supposed to get him solitary!" A deep, thick sob tore out of her. "He's going to die in there just like Aaron! He is going to die!"
Phoenix ignored the heat in his cheek where she'd struck it and forced his eyes open. Tears spilled freely down Lucy's face. She looked thirteen years old again. After everything she'd done to him with a dark glee, it was an unsettling sight.
"They're both gone," she choked out. "You're supposed to... to find someone else to pin it on. That's what you do. I checked. You always find someone else and they go to jail instead." She wiped at her snotty nose. "And the way that son of a bitch in pink smirked as he won," Lucy growled, and her sadness fell away.
No no no no no, stay sad, don't get mad, it's better when you're sad, you're not stabby when you're sad.
"Everyone hates us," Lucy repeated like it meant something, and stood. To Phoenix's relief, she walked away. When she opened the door, he could make out an indigo sky with a scattering of stars beyond it. It was already well into night and no one had found him.
He swallowed and looked at where that empty water bottle would be hidden in the shadows. Phoenix tried to flex his hands despite the pain. It felt like one hand moved, but he couldn't be sure.
Right, then.
It was the night of day one and he was still alive.
That would have to be enough.