Chapter 7: Broken Cups

" It'll be okay, I promise".

Lana hung up and, hesitating to put the phone back in her pocket, stared at the screen showing that old photo of Ema and her in front of the police station. It had been a while since she had put any picture of herself on her home screen. She sighed, and put the cell away.

She thought it would be best to leave the main street. Shopping had not gotten her mind off any of the dilemmas she had to face. The weight of her bags wasn't helping. It was probably best to go back home.

Realizing she was standing in the midst of the crowd and blocking everyone's passage, she went on walking. But slowly, the shoppers around her turned into blurry shapes. She froze on the sidewalk. The whole world was becoming fuzzy…

The siren of an ambulance racing down the road jolted her awake. She blinked a little, and then continued to follow the flow of people towards the bus stop.

She had almost forgotten where home was. She laughed, hoping that a touch of humor might calm her down, but the frailty of her voice made her shiver. She never wanted to experience such fear again.


The first thing she realized upon entering was that the apartment was dead quiet, and sunk into darkness. The second thing she noticed was that the door to the office had unusually been left open.

Lana went straight to the little table where the mail was kept, situated under a large mirror in the hallway. Since Edgeworth was the only one who had the key to the letterbox downstairs, he would usually bring up the whole pile and pose what was for her on the table every end of the week.

After having flicked through the letters and bills, all of them addressed to the prosecutor, Lana grunted. It seemed that none of her past acquaintances cared about the fact that she was homeless and practically broke. Surely, they must have heard about the fire in the news. And yes, broke, because that job down at the station was certainly not going to help her repay her debts any time soon.

She closed her eyes, and inhaled. She was being unfair again. Hmph. 'Fair', 'unfair'…Did those words mean anything anymore? "Do I really need to justify myself?", she thought. She exhaled, and opened her eyes again. Her reflection gazed back at her in the mirror. Even in the obscurity of the apartment, she could still notice the black rings under her eyes.

Picking up her belongings, she headed towards her bedroom. She wondered how strange it was that her meticulous roommate had not put all of his correspondence in his office. Didn't it make more sense that he would, considering that none of those letters were for her? Surely he must have gone through all of the envelopes before putting them in the hallway. Edgeworth was the kind of man who would never pay his bills a second late, after all.

The envelopes had also been stacked in a perfectly tidy way, which meant that he had not just thrown some unexamined letters in a rush. So what was the point of leaving the pile like that? Lana could not help but find it odd. Her detective skills never failed her, no matter what her state of mind was.

She turned her head towards the open office. The late afternoon rays were filtering from the room's curtains into the hallway. A pool of light shone innocently on the floor, as if luring her to enter. She dropped her bags. In the shadows, she walked towards the door.

She switched the light on. Pesu jumped from beneath the desk. She had been sniffing a drawer filled with papers and letters. Though her master had trained her not to enter the place, this time, her curiosity had gotten the best of her. She hung her head low upon seeing Ms. Skye, as if knowing that what she was doing was 'wrong'.

But in Lana's head, the word 'wrong' sounded completely void now. Like a pretty empty vase on a small hallway table. "Only the truth now", she muttered, "and not the sublime courtroom 'truth' of lawyers and judges". She felt the circulation of the blood in her veins. "The real twisted, nasty, ugly truth, the one I don't want to see nor hear. But until then, my mind won't rest."

She marched towards the desk, seized the drawer, making Pesu jump and run into a corner, and spilled the prosecutor's correspondence on the carpet. Without even knowing what she was looking for, she rapidly flipped through the envelopes, until coming across one that had already been opened:

'Lana Skye'.

The rest of the pile fell from her hands.

Ah. This was what she feared. And it was true. It really was true.

She didn't open it. There was no need. From the second she saw the typewriting, she recognized the recipient.

She was about to put the drawer back in its place. From behind, a cold voice, in the iciest tone she'd ever heard him use, asked her: "Pray tell me what you are doing here?"


She could have yelled back so many things at him. But here she was, in his kitchen…while he was making tea, of all things. Standing defiantly against the counter, she still held tightly onto the crumpled letter in her hands. His back was turned toward her. He hadn't uttered a word since he'd put the kettle on. Silence had settled, and neither one of them was ready to break it.

She watched him open the cupboard, take out the teapot, two cups with their respective saucers, and place them next to the spoons on the sink. He poured the milk from a bottle that had already been taken out into a small recipient. He then proceeded by taking the sugar pot out of the same cupboard, and removed its lid. He opened a drawer to take out another tablespoon…

While knowing it was dangerous to speak first, she couldn't help but comment: "I wonder if this is really the right time to have tea, Mr.…"

"There is no wrong time to have tea."

Edgeworth stood still. His hand was seemingly frozen on the drawer's handle. The kettle hissed. Lana stared at him, stunned: she hadn't expected him to interrupt her.

All of sudden, he violently slammed the drawer shut. The sound of the shaken cutlery loudly resonated in the room.

"And if there were a wrong time, what would it matter? What would it matter, indeed? "

This unexpected change in the prosecutor's countenance made Lana stiffen.

"Yes, really, what would it matter? Would it matter to you? Does any of this matter to you at all, anyway?"

Her anger rose, and, throwing the letter on the counter behind her, she exclaimed, pointing her finger at him:

"You…you have no right to say such things! Do not imply that I am being ungrateful to you! I, I know exactly what I am to you! You have made it clear enough to me on numerous occasions!"

She lowered her arm. "But I didn't force you into accepting me, I don't and I never needed you to repay me any favor! No, I never even asked you to defend me in court on that day…"

Edgeworth swiftly turned around: "I-I never suggested-!"

Lana refused to stop: "Oh please, why do you persist on hiding the truth? Why do you never say what your true feelings are? Why do always feel the need to hi-do you not realize that it is even more preposterous than throwing it all of this right in my face?!"

Edgeworth, taken aback, was about to retort, but Lana did not even stop to catch her breath: "And how dare you hide, even worse, go through my correspondence?! What gives you the right- And here I thought, stupidly, that the only person I could trust right now, yet he ends up being just like …"

"TRUST?!"

Not even in court had Edgeworth's voice boomed so loud. The cutlery almost shook again. Upon this explosion, Lana's blood turned cold, and she stepped back. Her foot hit the counter, and the letter fell on the floor.

Edgeworth now advanced towards her. His face had reddened, his head shook with rage, which caused some of the streaks of his hair to stand up. His fists were clenched so hard they were turning white. Lana could see from behind his glasses the anger in the blackness of his eyes. She suddenly felt very aware of his tallness, and, frightened, couldn't manage her trembling legs.

"Y-you, y-y-you think, YOU, talk to me, about TRUST?!" Edgeworth seemed to lose his grammar skills alongside his composure. Having spat those words, he clenched his teeth, and turned away. His arms were raised in the air.

"Have you ever thought about-do you even still remember all those things—all those years ago, in that God forsaken trial! You just stood there, saying all those things, everything you did, and I didn't even know what to believe—you just left! And now here you are, standing there again, saying nothing-and then accuse me, ME, of not…of not…"

He looked at his agitated hands, as if not knowing what to do with them. He groaned loudly, and slammed the kitchen counter.

Outside, the world was silent. He turned towards the window, deeply inhaled, and deeply exhaled. Lana kept staring at the floor. She didn't dare to breath.

He removed his glasses and placed them on his head. He took the kettle and poured the tea in one of the cups. He added the milk, two tablespoons of sugar, and stirred. He bought the cup to his lips, but didn't take a sip from it. He stood unmoving.

"I…I think I should leave now."

"Very well. Do as you always do. Leave."

She scoffed, and walked towards the door.

"I am certain Mr. Marshall will greet you with open arms".

This time, he took a sip from the cup. She stopped.

"Wha…how…how did—how did you, how much have you… Have you been SPYING on me this whole time?!"

"I have never spied on you. Unlike you I do not engage in such debased activities. I merely overheard your conversation with your sister, that is all."

"I…I cannot—I do not even want to know how you found about Jake's plans! I won't discuss this any further! I should not have to justify myself! But I will inform you on this point, I am not staying a minute longer in this place! I will not disturb you or trouble you with my problems anymore!" She looked up: "You will have to let me leave".

He crossed his arms. "Well, you seem to have been claiming all this time that I have no rights to control your movements, and indeed, I never wished you to think so. Why do you even ask for my approval? You are absolutely free to act in any way you want."

She stared at him, until her face cringed: "I was wrong. You …you do not feel any sympathy or compassion for others. You truly are a monster." Realizing he was unmoved by her glare, she walked away.

He stood still, unaware of his surroundings, so much that he did not even hear her leave the room when he muttered: "Well, that is certainly not the first time you have called me that way." After a long while, he uncrossed his arms, and turned his wrists to examine the palms of his hands. He stretched out his fingers in front of the window, against the darkness of the night. He suddenly caught sight of his reflection. He lowered his hands. This was the first time that he was not able to recognize himself.

Crash. He turned around, and noticed a puddle of spilt tea on the floor, surrounded by the remainders of the cup. The fallen letter was slowly getting soaked by the liquid. Pesu was in the middle with a guilty look in her eyes. She started howling, like a human would whimper.

"Will you stop that racket? Don't you think you've done enough for one day?!"

Afraid, the dog stopped howling immediately. Her ears drooped, and she hid her head with her paw. Edgeworth bit his lip, and almost slammed his fist on the counter again, but wasn't able to.

He let out a heavy gasp, took off his glasses, and ran his fingers through his hair. He looked down at Pesu, who kept staring at the mess on the kitchen tiles. He knew he should kneel down, pick up the broken shards, and whisper in her ear that everything will be fine, but what was the point if even he himself wouldn't believe his own words.


Hello, dear readers.

Ok. I know. That was quite an apocalyptic chapter. But if you've trusted me up until now, don't worry. Just don't.

I'm also really sorry about how late I am, I have not realised how much of a time gap there was since the last chapter. Been so busy, but I will try to upload once a month. I will try.

Oh, and there's a cute 10 cm/5'' difference in height between Lana and Edgey...I've been spending way too much time on the Ace Attorney Wiki.