They've talked about that before. About their familial situations. About being orphans. Not the topic he likes to discuss the most, but one Trucy has brought up before. Multiple times, he should add.
Polly, how's your Daddy?
The answer he wanted to give was "which one?", but he figured bringing up… that would do the both of them more harm than good. Or maybe he's just a coward who doesn't want to face the facts.
Polly, do you have a Mommy?
No. He's never known her, neither face nor name. She could be dead, alive or a myth. She could be a criminal serving a jail sentence, an innocent former defendant, or somewhere in the world taking care of desperate cases.
Polly, do you have siblings?
Ha, probably not. Well, he does – but it'd require a geopolitical explanation, at that point. His apologies to Nahuyta, but the question is a little tricky to reply and, again, he'd rather live his life without the black thoughts.
Apollo, however, is never the one who starts the topic. Why would he? He doesn't have replies to provide. None that'd be accurate, at least, and lying to Trucy feels like stabbing someone in the back while they're too blissful to notice.
Or maybe he's just a coward. That could be it too. A coward who flees from the painful truth because he'd rather like to think Mr Wright is his Daddy too, that Trucy really is his little sister and that his mother is somewhere out there, looking for him, even when he knows she must have abandoned him. No other way around. You do grow quite jaded when the person who gave birth to you just decided you weren't worth it.
Yes. Just a jaded coward who doesn't want to face the bitterness of his own heart. Nothing to bother looking for. Or after, for that matter. Just a jaded coward who knows he'll, one day, have to face his demons again…
He was apparently too busy thinking about the worst parts of his life to catch some rest, last night. Truth be told, it makes wanting to go back to sleep more attractive than it has any right to be. Rise and shine, every morning, at five, and you'll be fine. Do some training to scream your heart out in nonsensical injunctions of vague judiciary vernacular as if it were a socially acceptable thing (it's not, but it's too fun to pass up, and the neighbours still haven't tried murdering him, so it should be all good).
Too bad that, for the first time in forever, Apollo hit the "Snooze" button on his phone.
Simply put: he's feeling like shit. There's probably a fancier way to say it, and Mr Wright would probably scold him if he ever said that in front of Trucy… but it really is that way. Sometimes, you need to call something what it is, and if it's not shit, then it's garbage, or if a truck had recently hit him. Maybe it was a garbage truck? Hah, that'd be a funny coincidence. Though he supposes that it can be, since it's his imagination running rampant again… He'll have to give Klavier Gavin that.
Still, this isn't an excuse not to go to work. He's promised Mr Wright to help investigate a case or, as he's expecting it, to keep an eye on Trucy and serve as her guinea pig while his boss goes around and solves murders and defends the innocent. Good for Mr Wright, he deserves it after spending seven years in the underbelly of the city and the massive investigation he conducted in the darkness. May as well get on with his day and stop staring at the ceiling like that.
He opens his personal Court Record as he takes a shower. He's probably dizzy because he just woke up, has nothing in his stomach (not that he's any hungry), and got out of bed a little too quickly. He can easily explain the chills to the difference between the temperature of the frigid air and that of the hot water (albeit he should probably be more concerned than that at the fact it isn't heating him up at all). His throat and the coughing fits? Must be his voice training. He still doesn't sound deep enough not to be mistaken for a woman on the phone. It's kind of upsetting, really. Trucy has told him to take it easy on that front, though, so it must be a little too much. Stop being such a try-hard, Justice.
Ah, he may as well add the little gooey thing that has escaped his lungs and glided into the drain. Come to think of it, he usually showers with cold water to wake himself up, but he didn't have the guts to do so this morning. Huh, that's… peculiar, to say the least. He's probably looking too deep into things. Must be his fatigue. He needs to think less and sleep more, that's all there is to it. Time to close the Court Record.
The way to the agency is always the same: he rides his bicycle, gets honked at by some people for being too speedy on the road, almost crashes into a car or two, and then he's in front of the agency and he can just park his bike inside the building. He knows the road by heart, especially with the backtracking they'd have to make during previous cases. The same, ol' way… except, again, today is different.
He's slow. Painfully slow and he's going to be terribly late as a result of that and waking up at, what, seven? His legs feel stiff and he's only realizing now he hasn't eaten anything at all before leaving his place. Well, too late to stop, and it's not like he's hungry anyway – he'll just buy something while Trucy and he find some errand to run again, no big deal. That's a minor issue, after all, compared to how easily he's out of breath today. This sure is the portrait child for a terrible start.
When he finally arrives at Wright Anything Agency, Trucy practically jumps at him while babbling information he doesn't quite entirely get. Something about running errands for her next magic show, he assumes, as he heard Mr Hat come out from his hiding spot and complete what she was saying. It's not even that he wasn't listening, it's just that he… kind of has troubles following conversations, or focusing, for that matter. He almost got run over because his sight unfocused at the worst moment, earlier. That's weird.
Mr Wright isn't here. According to Trucy, he's leading a trial. He's got no idea of what trial she's speaking about (heck, he didn't even know he was defending, today), but since she stares at him as if he knows what this is, he supposes he just needs to run with the flow and pretend like he does. Maybe that, if he acts enough like he's got any idea of what she's speaking about, he'll remember. Pretending until he becomes the real thing, you know?
So they directly head downtown to buy some props. Trucy always has the weirdest ideas for her shows, always trying to implement something out-there so her audience is impressed and comes back for the next show to see what next wacky thing she's going to pull off. He can't lie about it: she's mad good at it. He's been helping her shopping, and yet he has very little idea of what she's going to do with some of these most of the time. It helps that she's a good secret keeper.
However, today, he's barely keeping up with any of their conversations. He just holds a basket and watches her use Daddy's credit card without paying enough attention to it, eyes losing focus on a whim every thirty seconds or so. It's beyond annoying, but maybe, if he sits down for a minute and eats something, it'll be better? Too bad the smell of food is making him nauseous, even if he believes he can hear Trucy want to eat crêpes, or waffles, or donuts…
When he looks at her, he can't imagine someone who lost both of her parents to either tragic or shady circumstances. Her father disappeared for seven years after being accused of a crime he didn't commit and before getting killed by an attorney jealous of her adoptive father, while her mother simply… vanished and never came back. Zak and Thalassa Gramarye, famous magicians turned shadows of a hazy past… They pulled an extraordinary vanishing act for sure and he can't say he doesn't know what it feels like not to have any idea of who brought you to the world.
They've had similar struggles, albeit with different stakes and circumstances. At least, she got to know who her father was, as… shady of a person the late Shadi Enigmar was. He shouldn't be pitting them against each other, because it serves no point whatsoever, and yet… He's envious, you could say. Of what, he doesn't quite know. There's a lot he doesn't quite know, today. And, honestly, he should be worried about that, but—
Polly! Are you even listening to what I've been saying?!
Trucy's scold snaps him out of his thoughts and brings him back to real life.
"O-of course!" His façade is terrible, so she reads right through him. Not as good as bluffing in the streets as you are in court, huh, Justice?
"You're lying! You've been all weird since coming to the office this morning, is something wrong?"
Two options. Either he lies to reassure her and probably dig his grave even deeper, or he just owns up to it while downplaying feeling like hot garbage. Neither sound really cool, if he's honest, but one is at least more efficient than the other.
"I'm a… bit under the weather," he replies, hesitantly, especially as he sees her face distort. "But I'm fine, let's—"
"No, that won't do! You need to rest when you're sick, Apollo! That's what Daddy's always told me when I was sick!"
"I… I'm not sick per say, I'm just ti—"
A coughing fit tears his lungs apart and he crumbles to his knees, losing all balance he had struggled to keep up for that moment. How long have they been walking for anyway? Two hours? Well, doesn't matter. Time's a myth, a social construct anyway.
"Apollo!" Trucy screams in horror as she kneels to his level, all while the hacking cough prevents him from looking at her, instead making him tear up. Please tell him this isn't his breaking point…
"Can… Can someone help me?!" She continues yelling around them, her arms frantic and her voice filled with panic, and he can't help but think he should be doing something to help her untense. Get his shit together would be a nice start, he supposes, but… the cough just won't stop… and the goo from this morning is back, this time, landing on her favourite cap, and now he's committed a crime.
When she calls out her name again, maybe to scold him, his breath turns short and his eyes roll back inside his skull.
A frantic voice echoes in the building of the Wright Anything Agency, screaming for her Daddy, as she kicks the door. He's going to scold her later for it, she knows it, but she's got no other way: both of her hands are full and she really can't free one of them! It's urgent!
Fortunately, her father opens the door soon after, first with a hint of displeasure on his face from her kicks in their door, then with nothing but worry as soon as he notices why she couldn't just knock or even unlock the door with her personal key.
Daddy helps her alleviate her from the weight on her shoulders, whom she's dragged for quite the distance, first in silence, then with words.
"What happened to him?" He asks her, rising her voice, albeit she knows it's not because of her. It's because Polly passed out and she's the only one who was with him when he did.
"I… I think he's just really, really sick, Daddy!" She replies as, in a reflex, she goes to fetch a blanket in one of their closets.
As if to check, Daddy puts a hand on Polly's forehead, only to frown even further.
"…go fetch the thermometer, Trucy," he orders her, and she immediately runs to the bathroom.
Once she's there, however, she doesn't just take the thermometer. With swift hands, she picks up the fever reducers and cough drops they've had in there, both still sealed because Daddy really dislikes having unsealed boxes around (he told her he'd explain why to her, someday), then runs out of the bathroom and back into the office, where she then gives him everything.
For a short moment, neither of them speaks. Truth be told, she's scared as she watches her Daddy slip the thermometer under Polly's tongue. She expects (or hopes) having to wait for beep like she had to when she had colds and wouldn't go to school (Daddy would even stay with her!), but to her chagrin, it immediately displays a number, which they both look at, her eyes peeking over his shoulder. He gulps but doesn't say anything, leaving her with only her inside dread.
Daddy suddenly rises up, surprising her, then glances at her and gives her the thermometer.
"Trucy, keep an eye on Apollo for me. I'm going to get a doctor," he tells her with pain in his eyes and a wrinkled face before storming out of the door with his phone in his hand.
"Go… Got it, Daddy!" She forces out of her throat, her fists clenched into balls.
The door slams behind him, so she goes back to the sofa, next to which she sits. No time to pull up a chair and put it there: she needs to be monitoring Polly now. He needs her, and Daddy entrusted her with an important task, so the magic show will wait and so do her legs!
Now that she's next to him and not paying attention to anything but him, she's noticing just how ill Apollo really is. His face is all pale, but his cheeks are redder than his vest (which she then removes because it looks really uncomfortable to sleep in, and so does his tie). His breathing is raspy and strained, hollow, as if he were breathless. There's also a weird sound she can hear in its back, a sort of static… No, it's more like crackling. In all cases, it sounds nasty, very nasty… He must be in a lot of pain, she figures.
On second thought, Trucy did notice something was wrong while they were in town and going shopping around because he wouldn't reply to her with snarky remarks and had trouble catching up to her when he's got taller legs than she does, but she focused on her show instead of doing the right thing and look a little more into it… Poor Polly. If she had noticed earlier, then maybe they wouldn't be there! Well, he'd still be sick, but at least, he wouldn't be here.
Still, that leaves a lot of questions in her mind. Why did Apollo come to work so ill? Even Daddy would have taken the day off, if he were in that state! He could've called in sick. She'd have even run his errands if he needed them! So, why did he do that? It must have been so painful for him too, to run after her when it seems like it was hard for him to even breathe…
Come to think of it, he's been a little… off, these past few days, but she really didn't see this coming. She should've brought it up to him much, much earlier than today. But now, it's too late, and all she can do is to fix the mess she didn't prevent from happening.
She wishes she had a trick to magically heal people, rather than make random items appear, now…