There was a certain beauty to the cold.
He pressed his hand against the glass, feeling it sink into his skin. The frost numbed his fingertips.
How poetic.
"Apollo!"
Unfortunate.
Phoenix grasped his shoulders, dragging him away from the window. A shame, really. It had just begun to snow.
"Klavier called me," Mr. Wright said. His disheveled appearance made it obvious—he'd practically leapt out of bed. "What are you doing?"
Ah, so Klavier had neglected the details. Kind of considerate…given the situation, at least.
"I checked your room. You weren't there, and then the nurses tell me that you signed out against medical advice." Stern words masked Phoenix's concern. The facts were laid out like accusations. "Care to explain, maybe?"
He had no choice, had he?
"I'm getting out of here," he stated. Mr. Wright hesitated.
"Well, you can't leave right this second," the man argued, seeming perturbed by the assertion. "The doctor said—"
"Don't pretend like you know anything."
Straightforward. Cool and collected.
Too familiar for the both of them.
"Hey," Phoenix started. "Did something happen—"
An announcement interrupted their conversation.
"Unit 2. Code blue. Critical care unit 2—code blue."
That was that. Apollo traced crosses on his bracelet, waiting for the realization to set in.
At long last, Mr. Wright finally listened to him.
"Okay, kid. Let's…let's just go home."
o - o - o
"Are you sure about this?" Klavier asked. Apollo didn't respond. He noticed the man's grip tighten on the steering wheel, then stared outside once more.
Yes.
"It's for the best," Mr. Wright said, on his behalf. They must've thought that he wasn't listening.
"But his injuries—"
"Yeah, I know."
"Herr Wright…"
"Trust me, I'm with you."
"We should go back."
"I don't think he can handle that right now."
A brief pause. Their voices dropped low, wrought with worry.
"Will he be alright?"
"I'm not sure…"
Fair question. Apollo leaned back, taking a moment to consider it. The emotions were supposed to overwhelm him. No one would fault him for being a shattered, dysfunctional wreck.
Let go, Kristoph had instructed.
He closed his eyes. He felt nothing at all, anymore.
o - o - o
It should've hurt him to see Trucy like that. Nothing could've prepared him for the sight of her, waiting in the emptiness of the Agency, springing forth the second he arrived.
She threw her arms around him. Buried her face in his fragile chest. And cried and cried and cried…
He didn't deserve her. He let her go through it, wishing that he could break down too. What a relief it must be, to release all those anxieties.
What a monster he was, for feeling so numb.
"It's fine," he said. "Everything's fine."
o - o - o
The first few days back were peaceful…well, mostly. Trucy's company was appreciated, but it was hard to watch her act like nothing was wrong. Mr. Wright, on the other hand, kept his distance.
They were treating him like cracked porcelain. Tiptoeing around, hoping not to break him.
"Do you know what happened, Trucy?" he questioned once. She paused in the middle of arranging her props, eyes wide with surprise.
"Um…what do you mean?"
Oh, she knew what he meant. In fact, she probably had dozens of theories herself. He waited for her to continue, but she remained silent.
"Never mind," he said, dropping the subject.
Typical Wrights. Always keeping secrets.
o - o - o
The letter remained on his desk.
Unopened.
Not yet.
o - o - o
He'd become a terrible conversationalist. Way, way too quiet.
Catching up on sleep was the better alternative.
Problem solved. He retreated to his room, deciding to spend his time dreaming rather than suffering through reality. His exhaustion was a far cry from his previously high-strung personality—way back when he wouldn't take a rest, even when one was forced on him.
That's probably how Mr. Wright caught on.
"You seem really tired," Mr. Wright had noted, after he'd (regrettably) woken up. "Maybe you need something."
"Yeah. An endless sleep," he'd said, without hesitation.
It was only after he'd seen Phoenix's face that he realized his terrible phrasing. For a moment, he debated just leaving it as is.
Kristoph would be disappointed.
"Sorry, Mr. Wright. I'll have some coffee."
o - o - o
"Let's watch old movies!" Trucy suggested.
He didn't really want to, but he couldn't turn her down, either. So, he compromised…by doing exactly what she wanted. It was only fair, after all. He hadn't exactly been subtle about his isolation, and it was evident that she'd noticed. Turns out sleeping 16 hours a day wasn't the best way to avoid people.
"He'll betray everyone," Apollo said, huddled under his giant blanket. He pointed at one of the characters on the screen. "That one. Him. I'll even bet you on it."
"I would, but I've seen this before," Trucy said. She tilted her head at him, fascinated. "How'd you know?"
He's afraid.
"He hates them."
The combination of the heat and the soft cloth was wearing him down. At least he was allowed to nap on the couch.
o - o - o
Trucy had to go back to school. She'd been out for over a week on account of a "family emergency."
She shouldn't have stayed home. Oh, well…on the bright side, her energy could finally be directed towards something worthwhile.
Sadly, that also meant he'd have to spend more time with Mr. Wright.
He ran a hand down his face.
Looks like he'd need espresso every day.
o - o - o
"Hey. You're up."
"Yeah."
"That's good."
"Sure."
…
"And how do you feel?"
"Fine, Mr. Wright."
"You know you can talk to me, Apollo."
"I know."
…
"I'll be here when you're ready, then."
Leave me alone.
o - o - o
There was a phone call for him. He set down his mug, reaching for the receiver. It was official—the kitchen was the best place to keep an office phone, as Trucy had told him ages ago.
Before he could answer, Mr. Wright stole the handset away.
"Wright Anything Agency. We aren't taking any new clients right now," the man said.
Apollo sipped his coffee, feeling somewhat offended. It was his job to handle inquiries. Besides, he didn't mind solving a case. Medical bills were expensive.
"The news? What for?" Mr. Wright glanced at him, looking a bit troubled. "No, I don't think he'd want his name released like that…"
Must be for the headlines. A high-profile murderer had escaped for a week—obviously, they'd want to know about the casualties.
"Let them," he said. "I approve."
Mr. Wright covered up the mouthpiece, giving him a look. "You're not serious."
The coffee must be messing with his head.
Good, honestly.
"It's over, isn't it?" He shrugged, ignoring Mr. Wright's protests. "I couldn't care less. They can do what they want."
"Thank you—" said the reporter on the line. Hmm…he'd spoken a bit too loud.
Mr. Wright hung up. Meanwhile, he downed the rest of the drink. Very concentrated. His fingers twitched.
"We should talk," Wright said. Apollo shook his head, bitterness lingering on his tongue.
"Don't worry. I'm sure you've figured it all out."
o - o - o
Why wasn't he reading it?
It was right there.
To Mr. Justice—
No. He was starting to feel something again.
o - o - o
A storm raged outside. He stood by the window, mug in hand, watching the sleet slide down. The coffee was too strong. Maybe he was going overboard.
Lately, he was feeling dizzier and dizzier. He should've listened when he was in the hospital—
Footsteps behind him.
"Wright," he said.
He turned his head. Wright—Mr. Wright—stopped in his tracks, staring at him.
Oh no.
"I…didn't mean…" His gaze darted between his coffee mug and the foggy glass. "The weather. I was looking outside, and…"
"It's alright," Phoenix said. The man relaxed. "You just reminded—look, I don't mind if you call me that."
Something about the atmosphere punctuated the words. He nodded, letting Phoenix slink to the kitchen.
You reminded me of him.
It was an accident.
o - o - o
"You look pale, Justice," Kristoph would've said.
Billions and billions of shards lay scattered on the floor. He breathed, unable to process reality.
There was a difference between impulse and acceptance. Clearly, he'd failed at one of them, and this was the result.
How would he even explain it? Smashing a mug on the ground wasn't the most rational action on earth. It was more like an urge…a compulsion he should've suppressed…
Black coffee bled into the floor. He needed more control.
o - o -
His head was spinning.
More coffee might help.
His hands kept trembling.
A caffeine overdose?
He stood before the mirror, trying to calm down.
Move on move on move on move on
o - o - o
Had Trucy gone to school yet? He hoped she had. He really really really hoped she had because today was the day he was going to open this goddamn letter and end things once and for all.
Yes, he was fucking moving on. Kristoph wanted him to read it, see? This was last step. The cherry on top. Bon voyage, and all that.
He tore it open, skimming through the text. There were two pages for Trucy and one for him. He set her section aside.
...
Dear Apollo Justice,
Enclosed is the property deed for Gavin & co. I trust you will make good use of the office.
Respectfully yours,
Kristoph Gavin
...
That's it?
There was no reason to be disappointed. Kristoph had told him to grow beyond this.
It should mean nothing to him.
"You…opened that?"
Mr. Wright stood in the doorway, not even bothering to hide his unease. Apollo slammed the documents on the table.
"Just some business things," he clarified. "Legal stuff. I guess he didn't want to write something emotional. I mean, he was dying, so…"
"Are you okay?"
"I'm completely fine."
"You don't have to convince me—"
"You won't ever believe me, so yes, I do."
"Apollo…"
He crumpled up Kristoph's message, unable to rein in his frustration. God, this was difficult. He was so furious that he could barely breathe.
"You want to talk? Fine, Wright. Let's talk."
Phoenix seemed uncomfortable with his intensity. He pinched the bridge of his nose, realizing what he'd said.
"I'm sorry. Mr. Wright, not Wright. I just…I…" he trailed. Why the hell did he keep making the same mistake?
"Maybe we shouldn't go over things now," Phoenix offered. "You don't seem like yourself."
"No, I'm…"
Suffocating. He felt like he was trapped in a vat of steam, evaporating into nothingness.
There was no way out. He held the deed up. It was funny seeing his name associated with Kristoph's again. Was this a test? How was he supposed to forget, with this hanging over his head?
I can't.
He collapsed.
