Dinner with Kristoph Gavin is never just a meal. It's a game. A dance. A performance. As Phoenix stares into the mirror and sets his gaze, he notices his hands are shaking in anticipation.
Or fear. Hopefully anticipation. Maybe he'll just finally have that stress induced heart attack and die on his bathroom floor before this goes anywhere.
He sighs. He's starting to get wrinkles at the ripe old age of thirty-one. While Phoenix would love to blame this on Kristoph and the multidimensional chess game they've been playing, he knows that his life has never been peaceful. Tiredly, he pulls his sleeves down.
Normally, he'd show up in his hoodie and sweatpants, but his phone call with Kristoph from a few hours ago rings in his head on cue.
"The venue I've chosen for tonight's outing has a dress code. I ask that you please make yourself presentable for all our sake's."
"Will I have to shave?"
"No, but some grooming would do you well, Wright."
Phoenix hasn't shaved. He isn't going to give Kristoph the satisfaction. However, he has pulled on one of his old suits — not the blue court one, that one is still folded up in the back of his closet, and hasn't seen the light of day in years — and combing his hair out. It's been a while since he's battled with a brush, and he's got all the knots to prove it.
He debates just getting a hat. It might be faster. Then again, if the restaurant really does have a dress code — who knows, maybe Kristoph made that up for one reason or another — then he'll be expected to take it off while they eat.
"We could just eat at the Borscht Bowl Club again. The food's getting better."
"Tsk. I'd say you're numb to it. In any case, have you forgotten that this is a special occasion?"
"Like you'd let me forget. Hell, you circled the date on my calendar too."
Phoenix's hand closes around the brush. He's mostly got his hair back in order — there's now a lovely strand that likes to stick out just above his forehead — and that'll have to do.
What a night this is going to be. Phoenix would really love to be sifting through paperwork for once in his life, instead of getting into yet another tango with Kristoph. Still, he's right about this being a special occasion. And it isn't one he wants to miss, even though it means sitting across from the devil for at least two hours.
His phone beeps in his pocket. Time to go. Phoenix leaves the washroom, flicking off the light, and allows himself a moment to stare at his office. Last year, he'd moved out of his apartment, and rearranged the former Wright & Co. Law Offices so that it was viable to live in. Couldn't bear to part with the place, if only for Mia's sake.
He looks at the spot under the window. Sometimes, on nights like these, he can see her lying there, even now. This time, though, it's just white paint and old carpet. He wonders if she's mad at him. He can't blame her if she is. He's pretty damn mad at himself too.
...It's time to leave. Phoenix grabs the gift wrapped parcel off the table and heads out, being sure to lock the door.
The restaurant Kristoph picked isn't too far away, so he can get away with walking. Considering how tight money is these days, he prefers to walk rather than bus anyways. Plus, it's impossible to think on transit. Something about the shaking and the noise. Here, in the crisp, evening air, he can at least keep his mind in order.
What's there to really think about, though? He knows this charade well enough by this point. They're going to have a terrible meal together, where they're all smiling but no one is happy, while Phoenix wonders if tonight is the night Kristoph attempts to poison him.
...Well, there goes his appetite. Whatever. He can eat when he's alone. Phoenix shakes his head, and keeps walking. There's only one street for him to cross before he arrives, and he has to be ready for anything. That's what these performances are all about.
Interesting, actually, that Kristoph complains about his rockstar baby brother so much. Both siblings have such a penchant for the dramatic, that it would be funny if it didn't eat him alive every single day.
Phoenix pinches his wrist, waits for the cars bustling down the road with not a care in the world to rush right by, and crosses. At the other end, he can see two people, half bathed in light from the streetlamps. He's not late, but Kristoph loves to arrive first. Like it's some kind of power move.
He smiles easily as he walks up to them. Kristoph provides his general, passive expression, that could mean pretty much anything. As a whole, the mask is much better than Phoenix's, but the tiniest crack would prove it fake. As scuffed up as he is, Phoenix can take a few hits here and there.
"Good evening, Wright," Kristoph says, making his opening move of the night. "Wonderful that you've finally decided to join us."
Phoenix chuckles. "It's seven-thirty, isn't it? I think I'm right on time. Besides, I took tonight off work for you."
"I'm so glad you're here, Mr. Wright! It wouldn't be the same without you!"
His heart pangs in his chest, just a little bit, at the sound of her voice. It doesn't show on his face at all, but he still feels like she can see right through him. Phoenix bends down slightly, and takes in the sight of Trucy Gavin, Kristoph's adopted daughter.
"Happy birthday, Trucy. This is for you."
Trucy was already smiling when he approached, but she practically lights up like a Christmas tree when she takes the parcel from him. "Thank you so much!"
Kristoph tuts, slightly disapprovingly. "Wright. I thought I said no gifts."
"It's not your birthday, is it?" Phoenix replies. He isn't even looking at him, but he can feel Kristoph's gaze burning into him. He's too busy focused on Trucy, and how she's bouncing up and down. No matter what he thinks of her father, Trucy herself is like a moment of respite. Not a light at the end of the tunnel, but a candle nonetheless.
Kristoph's expression is entirely placid, as always. "I see. Well, let's go speak to the host, instead of standing out here in the cold."
Phoenix graciously holds the door open for the Gavins, insisting that the birthday girl need not want for even the smallest trifle. Really, though, it's because he'd rather not turn his back to Kristoph any longer than he has to.
Five years ago, after spending two weeks tracking down Trucy Enigmar, Phoenix found her and immediately discovered that he was much too late.
"Mr. Gavin told me that I shouldn't talk about what happened to my Daddy," she'd said, sitting in the lobby of Gavin Law Offices. Her eyes were low to the ground. "He says I can't trust people who come sniffing around."
Phoenix reached for his gentlest voice, one he'd picked up while investigating with Pearl. "I'm one of Mr. Gavin's friends, actually. But you don't have to tell me anything you don't want to."
Trucy raised her head, peeking up at him from under her silk hat. "Well… My Daddy said I could trust you. But I don't wanna make Mr. Gavin mad."
"Of course not," Phoenix said, smiling. He couldn't imagine the kind of hell there would be if Kristoph blew a fuse. "Like I said, you don't have to talk. We can just wait for… for Mr. Gavin to get back together."
Trucy sat up in her seat. "Oh, but I wanna show off my trick! Mr. Gavin keeps saying he's too busy with all the paperwork to watch."
Seriously? The guy was keeping the kid here, and wouldn't even indulge in her magic act? Phoenix replied, "Go ahead. I'd love to see it."
"I knew you'd understand, old boy!" Trucy said, jumping to her feet. "Nothing's more important than magic."
The poor kid. Phoenix sat attentively, expecting some kind of card or coin trick. Something simple. So, when a giant wooden puppet flew out from under her cape, snatching Trucy's hat off her head, he felt his jaw drop.
"Hey, everybody! It's Mr. Hat! How're you doing tonight?"
The voice was supposed to be the puppet talking, but Phoenix could see Trucy's lips moving the slightest bit. Still, he'd have to be a jerk not to play along. "Wow, you're incredible, Mr. Hat."
Trucy giggled. "Isn't he the best? He always surprised Uncle Valant!"
He could definitely see why.
"Your friendly neighbourhood Mr. Hat, ready when you are!" the puppet replied.
Phoenix cleared his throat. "He makes… quite an impression, Trucy. You should be proud."
"I'm so glad you like him!" Trucy said, bouncing ever so slightly on her toes.
Before Phoenix could get another word of encouragement out, the office doors swung open, and he felt his heart go cold in his chest.
Kristoph stood in the doorway, fixing both of them with a quiet, curious gaze. "Wright. What are you doing here?"
"Came to see you, obviously," Phoenix said, sticking his hands in his pockets. "Trucy was just in the middle of showing me her trick."
Kristoph pushed up his glasses. "I can see. How… very interesting."
Trucy smiles bashfully, but tucked away Mr. Hat quickly. "Thank you, Mr. Gavin."
Kristoph entered the office properly, standing in front of Trucy with his hands folded behind his back. "I'm afraid I have bad news, Trucy. Though I searched and searched, I found that you have no other living family."
Trucy looked down at her feet. Though Phoenix had confirmed that fact for himself, he didn't like how Kristoph was saying it. Either way, he wasn't sure this was a conversation he should be there for, but he wasn't about to walk out.
"As such, I am offering to let you continue to stay with me until your father returns," Kristoph said, folding his arms and smiling. "If that pleases you, of course."
Trucy clasped her hands together. "Are you sure, Mr. Gavin? Daddy never said…"
Kristoph replied, "I wouldn't have said such a thing were I not sure. You are always welcome in my home."
"Well… okay, Mr. Gavin!" Trucy exclaimed, bouncing on her heels.
Phoenix's heart leapt into his throat at the same moment she wrapped her arms around Kristoph.
The restaurant is nothing to sneeze at. Phoenix does his best not to look at the prices while he orders, not because he has to worry about paying — Kristoph always handled the bills from their outings — but because even letting his eyes land on them is a one way trip to a headache. What kind of person spent $25 on a burger?!
"Can I open my present, Papa?" Trucy asks. She's sitting up perfectly upright, her shoulders straight, with her hands folded in her lap.
Kristoph takes a sip from his wine glass. "You should wait until after we've eaten."
Phoenix waves his hand. "Aw, let her. It'll only take a couple of seconds."
Kristoph presses his lips together, but eventually sets down his wine glass and dips his head. "Very well. But if the server comes by, please put it aside."
Trucy immediately starts ripping open the tape and unfolding the red wrapping paper. Even in her haste, she manages to keep the discarded paper neat. It's an incredible feat that Phoenix has never been able to accomplish, and he thinks he'd be more impressed if he wasn't certain that Kristoph taught her that.
"Oh, I've been wanting a new deck of cards!" she exclaims, holding up the small box. "Thank you so much, Mr. Wright. I appreciate your generosity."
Admittedly, Phoenix wishes that he could afford to get her something nicer, but the joy on her face is genuine. "You're welcome. Use it well."
Kristoph clears his throat. "I thought you were getting a little old for magic tricks. After all, you're thirteen now, aren't you?"
Trucy's reply is breezy and practiced, "Aw, I know that, Papa. But that's not all you can use cards for. There's a vast array of games we could play."
"Like poker," Phoenix says, watching as Kristoph's cheekbones twitch.
"Like poker!" Trucy echoes, slipping the deck of cards into her coat pocket. "I think it would be fun to learn."
At that moment, their server returns, which prevents Kristoph from potentially crushing his wine glass in his fist. While Phoenix would love to see that happen, he imagines it would ruin Trucy's birthday dinner. He turns his attention to the worker, watching as they carefully place three hot dishes before them.
Trucy's is some pasta dish layered with cheese and fried onions, while Kristoph's some venison pot roast marinated in red wine vinegar. Both have fancy German names he has no hope of pronouncing. His simple bratwurst doesn't compare, but at least he knows how to say that.
The Gavins are oddly alike. Though they're not blood related — with her dark hair and skin, it was clear to everyone around that she was adopted — there are some similarities that always make Phoenix wonder. The way they eat so daintily couldn't just be something that Trucy was trained to do. He hopes, anyways.
Phoenix does his best to eat his share, but his eyes keep darting towards Kristoph every time he moves his hands. He tries to tell himself that it's just paranoia, but it is really ever just anything with Kristoph? His every move is calculated. Though he loathes it, Phoenix has to adapt to the man's perception of the world in the blink of an eye.
He wishes he could think of chess and not flinch. Once upon a time, he liked to play it with Edgeworth. Now, his oldest and dearest friend puts away the set as soon as Phoenix steps into the office, though he's never asked for that. Edgeworth knows him better than he really knows himself, and while that would usually be terrifying — because sometimes, he suspects that Kristoph does too — with Edgeworth, it's a small comfort in a cold world.
Trucy asks for someone to pass her the pepper, snapping Phoenix out of his reverie. He can't be distracted at a critical point like this. He and Kristoph reach at the same time, and end up bumping hands. Both of them laugh it off, but Phoenix's skin stings.
After all is eaten — or in Phoenix's case, packed up in a to go container — the three of them exit the restaurant, Trucy joyously leading the way into the spring night.
"Thanks for letting an old fart like me crash your birthday dinner," Phoenix says, leaning back against the closest streetlamp. "It was nice to see you."
Trucy laughs. "You might as well be part of our family, Mr. Wright! I'm always telling Papa that he needs to settle down, and you're always meeting with him!"
There's an image that's going to worm its way into Phoenix's rib cage and haunt his dreams. He ruffles Trucy's hair amidst her father's disapproving gaze to avoid thinking about it.
"Goodnight, you two," is all Phoenix says, once Trucy skips back to Kristoph's side. "Are we still on for borscht on Tuesday?"
Kristoph pushes up his glasses. "You know I wouldn't miss it. Have a safe night, Wright."
Phoenix stands on the street corner, waiting for the Gavins to start walking away, before he makes his retreat. Halfway to the office, he tosses his leftovers in a dumpster, because he's starting to have a feeling he shouldn't eat any more of that.
He doesn't know if Kristoph is out to get him anymore than he already has, but never safe than sorry, or something. His mouth feels gross, and it's not just because of dinner.
"You might as well be part of our family, Mr. Wright!"
For one awful moment, he pictures it. Waking up next to Kristoph Gavin every morning, making meals in the mansion, filing papers in his law office, walking Trucy to and from school…
Well, that last one doesn't seem so bad. The rest is enough to make his stomach churn. Phoenix races back to the office, so that at least if he breaks down screaming, the only one who can get mad at him is Charley.
What a fucking night.
"That's an interesting hat you have on," Kristoph says, by way of greeting. "Wherever did you get it?"
Every Tuesday night for the past year and a half, the two of them meet for dinner at the Borscht Bowl Club. It's the same each week; they each have a horrible bowl of soup. They play a hand or two of poker, Phoenix wins every time, and pretends he doesn't notice Kristoph glaring at him from under his glasses. And at the end of every night, when Kristoph gets to his feet and makes his way to the stairs, Phoenix calls out: "Same time next week?" And seven days later, they do it all again.
Phoenix's only comfort is that this is technically home turf. He arguably has an advantage in this cold, terrible room. Never feels that way, though. Even here, Kristoph manages to act like he's ten steps ahead.
And tonight, he might as well. See, Kristoph knows exactly where Phoenix got the hand knit blue beanie with 'Papa' stitched into it, and Phoenix knows that one wrong step could set the whole board on fire.
That's no different than usual, though. Phoenix had prepared carefully for this conversation, but there's no telling where it'll go. Kristoph is, in the nicest of terms, a wildcard.
"Don't tell me you don't recognize your daughter's handiwork," Phoenix replies, settling down at the table. He stirs his borscht with his spoon, but doesn't eat any of it.
Kristoph mirrors him, down to the stirring. He somehow manages to make Phoenix be unsettled by the motions, even though he started it. "I know it well. The question is how the hat came into your possession."
Phoenix smiles. He's really good at making sure the shine reaches his eyes. "Didn't you hear her at her birthday? I'm family now."
"I do not believe that is what Trucy said," Kristoph points out, correctly. "And my question still stands."
Phoenix leans forward on one arm, looking up at Kristoph with wide eyes. Orly tells him that he looks like a puppy dog trying to be the big bad wolf when he does it. "You're so wound up, Gavin. She's just thinking about your love life."
"Which I might add, is non-existent," Kristoph says, folding his hands in his lap. If anyone were to look at them, they wouldn't be able to spot the seam of Kristoph's mask. Phoenix, however, is very good at catching where he's hidden it.
"Anyway, she said I could have the thing, and it makes a decent ear warmer in the Hydeout. That's all," Phoenix says brusquely. It isn't really a lie, and he's pretty sure Trucy will spout almost the exact same story when Kristoph inevitably asks her about it.
Kristoph says, "I'm not angry. But you know, she did make that hat for me in the first place."
Phoenix replies, "I know. You never wore it either."
That's enough to make Kristoph drop the subject for the rest of the night. Phoenix hopes that's a victory, even if it's a small feat in such a long game. He's lucky Kristoph never asked when he got it.
He doesn't like being in the courthouse anymore. For one, it's still beyond him why they redecorated. Two… well. That should be obvious enough.
At Edgeworth's request, though, he sits in the gallery to watch Kristoph's ongoing trial. It's one of the few that Kristoph hasn't consulted him on — he isn't sure if Kristoph knows he hates it, or thinks he likes it, nor is he sure which is worse — so he doesn't have a clue what the case is about yet.
The prosecutor today is Payne, so this trial can't be anything sensational. Phoenix keeps his eyes on the defence bench, digging his fingers into his legs as Kristoph and Trucy walk up together. She's his co-council, which is fine, probably. Phoenix had his own fair share of unconventional legal aids back in the day.
They make an interesting pair, Phoenix thinks. Every now and again, usually in the middle of a cross examination, Trucy puts a hand on her father's wrist for only the briefest of seconds. Then, Kristoph needles the witness on that point until they break. It's fascinating, if he's being honest.
The trial is over within two hours. Kristoph smiles nonchalantly as "Not Guilty" is read over the room, while Payne sits defeated at the other bench. Phoenix slips out of the gallery before anyone who knows him can catch his eye. The absolute last thing he wants to do today is engage in battle. He's already completed his mission anyways.
He calls Edgeworth when he's out the courthouse's back door, leaning on the wall and staring up at the overcast sky. The phone only rings once.
"I thought you were going to stop by my office," Edgeworth says, in lieu of hello. Phoenix feels glass break in his chest at the sound of his voice. It's not Edgeworth's fault that he and Kristoph have so many superficial similarities, down to how they greet him.
Glasses. Suits that cost so much any normal person would burst a blood vessel. Expensive restaurants. Cologne. Verbal tics.
"Wright?" Edgeworth prompts, and Phoenix realizes he hasn't said a word at all. All this constant performing is giving him such a headache.
"Sorry. Got lost in thought," he says. It's true, but he hardly believes it himself. He clenches his free hand tight until it starts cutting off circulation to his fingers. "I can meet you if you want. Might be safest, actually."
Edgeworth replies, "I concur. Knock thrice on my door when you arrive. I will set aside my other appointments."
Phoenix frowns. "You don't have to do that. The show's already over, you know. I'm sure it'll only take me twenty minutes."
"Nonsense. Again, knock thrice. I will be waiting," Edgeworth says, and hangs up. He doesn't say 'I would do anything for you,' but Phoenix can hear it anyways. That's how the two of them have always been. And normally it's a nice thing, but today it's making his stomach sink.
He stares at his phone and sighs. The line isn't secure, so it's for the best that they meet in person. Edgeworth's contact name in his phone is still 'Borscht Bowl Club Manager.' As far as Kristoph knows, his "on again off again" relationship with Edgeworth is in an off stage, and he'd rather not give the man reason to think otherwise.
He takes the back roads to the Prosecutor's Office. Edgeworth is still on the twelfth floor, and Phoenix wonders how he manages to take the stairs all the way up, while the elevator rises. He wonders what will happen when — "If, Wright. Not when." — Edgeworth becomes Chief Prosecutor. Maybe he'll use his newfound power to put his office on the second floor. Or maybe he likes the workout. Who knows.
The elevator doors open, and Phoenix saunters down the hall to the office he's become so familiar with. He knocks three times, as instructed, and the door swings open only a couple seconds later. Maybe Edgeworth's getting impatient in his old age.
"We're the same age," Edgeworth says, because he can read his mind now.
Phoenix stares at him with a raised eyebrow. "Get out of my head."
Edgeworth chuckles softly and pushes up his glasses with his knuckle. "You said that aloud, Wright. Come inside, quickly."
Phoenix does, shaking his head. The first thing he notices is that the chess set has been tucked away, probably in a desk drawer. The second thing he notices is that Edgeworth has poured two cups of tea. He takes the seat on the other side of the desk, and when Edgeworth pushes the bone china cup of hibiscus over to him, he picks it up and drinks.
Absently, he realizes that he didn't even have to think about whether or not it was safe to have tea. If Kristoph had made it — well, Kristoph only liked chamomile, and was weird about preparing it — then he would have been forced to pretend to drink it for two hours, while praying it never touched his lips.
He trusts Edgeworth with his life. He wants to say he always has, but that's not true. For the past seven years, though? Absolutely.
"So. The trial," Phoenix begins, setting the teacup down. "It was swift. I want to call it clean, but it's Gavin. Anything he presented could be tampered."
Edgeworth uncaps a pen and starts writing down his statements. "I'll have Gumshoe review the evidence personally. I suppose it is better safe than sorry."
Phoenix sighs. "The defendant was innocent, though. Even just watching, I could tell."
"So was Zak Gramarye," Edgeworth points out, "And Gavin had evidence forged with the intention of winning the case."
Phoenix picks up his tea instead of replying. The wound still stings, despite the bandages of time. He supposes it'll sting until the day Kristoph is behind bars. Whenever that is. Will that be before or after trial by jury is reinstated in the country?
God, that's what he's supposed to be doing. Observing trials and noting on how the potential Jurist System would affect proceedings. Instead, the two of them have made it personal again. At the very least, he's glad that Edgeworth has a vendetta too. Even if he wishes he wouldn't put himself in danger for his sake, it's nice to have someone who's present, who knows. Sure, Maya hates Kristoph, but she's up on a mountain, and doesn't know the ins and outs of the Bar Association, or the games all of them have to play.
Maya has never looked Kristoph in the eyes, and Phoenix prays she'll never have to.
"Your hands are shaking, Wright," Edgeworth says. His voice is gentle and demure, and it really just breaks his heart. If it wasn't for Kristoph, maybe they could have had something, something beyond longing gazes and promises of 'one day.' It's always Kristoph.
Phoenix fixes him with a grin and says, "Are they? Maybe you should try holding them."
He's joking, but Edgeworth rests a hand on his fist anyway.
Every now and again, Kristoph invites Phoenix to have dinner at his massive fuck-off mansion, which he always respectfully declines. He at least knows not to stick his head into the bear trap. Kristoph still finds ways to get him into the mansion though. One night, after dinner at a Lebanese place that actually went well, he convinces Phoenix to stop by and say hello to Trucy.
Maybe it's weird, that he's so concerned about her. It's been five years, and she's evidently still alive. Perhaps even thriving. It could just be that he's seeing shadows where there are none.
Then again, he dreams about Kristoph pouring atroquinine into his mouth every other night. So he continues to worry.
She's waiting for the two of them at the door, smiling politely. She even offers to take Phoenix's coat, but he'd rather hang onto the old hoodie.
Kristoph tells her to run along to the sitting room, and Phoenix ignores the acrid buildup in his mouth. He hates the place. At least Edgeworth's blatant displays of wealth never felt cold and clinical.
Phoenix follows him into the sitting room, trying not to wince at the squeaking of Kristoph's shoes. Kristoph pours two glasses of wine, even though they both know Phoenix won't touch his. They sit across from each other in chairs too fancy for someone like Phoenix, while Trucy sits between them, like balancing scale.
As he rolls around potential movements in the competitive conversation they're about to have, Kristoph's cell phone rings. He frowns. "Apologies. I'm sure this will only take a moment."
He gets up and stands in the hallway. Phoenix and Trucy exchange glances, then stare after him, straining to hear the conversation.
"—over by this time of night. Yes, I heard you the first time. Emergency or not, I—"
Trucy whispers, "Another case? Now?"
Kristoph's reputation has been skyrocketing recently. It only makes sense that he's being contacted at irregular hours for his services. People want the Coolest Defence in the West on their side.
It makes Phoenix sick.
Kristoph returns to the sitting room a minute later. "I'm deeply sorry, Wright, but I must cut our time short. I've been asked to take a case immediately."
Phoenix waves his hand. "Don't let me stop you. Good luck with whatever you're dealing with."
Kristoph smiles. It reeks of arsenic. "Thank you. Trucy, are you ready to go downtown?"
"Papa, I have a math test tomorrow morning," Trucy protests. She's staring up at her father with wide doe eyes. It's curious.
Kristoph deliberates for a moment, then says, "In that case, make sure you go to sleep soon. I imagine I'll be out all night."
Trucy smiles and bows her head. "Of course, Papa. Have a safe drive."
Phoenix gets to his feet, stretching his arms above his head. "I'll get out of your hair, if you're leaving now. Thanks for dinner, Gavin."
Kristoph folds his arms, somehow still smiling. "Don't rush out on my account. Please, feel free to stay and finish your wine. I'd hate for it to go to waste."
Phoenix doesn't roll his eyes, but he thinks about doing it very hard. Still, the invitation to be in Kristoph's massive fuck-off mansion without him around would be an expensive gift to pass up. Even if he can't snoop without being found out, he can take a look at the place.
Kristoph bids them both goodbye, and heads out, locking the front door. For a few moments, Phoenix and Trucy sit in complete silence, eyes trained on the hallway to the foyer.
Then, Phoenix says, "You don't have a math test tomorrow morning."
Trucy's eyes snap towards him. Her twelve — almost thirteen — year old face is far more weathered than it should be. As she effortlessly arches an eyebrow, she asks, "Where did you get that idea from, Mr. Wright?"
Phoenix touches the Magatama hidden in his pocket, watching as the three red locks form in front of her face. If the chains wrapping around her were tangible, she'd be suffocating. "I'm good at knowing when people are lying. You could say I have a secret weapon."
Trucy watches him closely, then folds her hands in her lap. "Me too. Show me yours, and I'll show you mine."
That's only fair, Phoenix decides. He holds up the small green stone, pulsing with spiritual energy. Trucy regards it, then raises her arm and points to a golden bracelet on her right wrist. She's been wearing it pretty much every time Phoenix has seen her.
"You're right," Trucy admits, and the locks shatter. "I only said it because I don't want to go with him. Papa… really wants me to be a lawyer too."
Phoenix replies, "And I take it that you're not as interested in the idea."
Trucy sighs. Her fists are clenched. "Not really. I don't mind standing in court, and I like investigating, but it doesn't feel like my future. I want to carry on the Gramarye name as a magician."
"I think if that's what you want, then you should," Phoenix says, placing his hands back in his pockets. "It's your life, kiddo."
Trucy's laugh is simultaneously dainty and bitter. She rubs her eyes. "Papa thinks it's a childish endeavour. He wants me to strive to be better."
Phoenix resists the urge to roll his eyes. He has to be careful with what he says here, because at the end of the day, Kristoph is still her father. "You don't become a full blown adult the second you turn eighteen, you know. And you're not even a teenager yet. You don't have to worry about being childish."
Trucy plasters a smile on her face. If it wasn't for the tired, dull gleam in her eyes, he'd think it real. "Really? Papa's been saying things like that since I was ten."
Phoenix would really love to find the people who decided that Kristoph Gavin was fit to raise a child and rip them a new one. For now, he stifles his anger because it's not like he can prove that he's done anything wrong. As far as the eyes of the law are concerned, the sketchiest thing Kristoph does is associate with Phoenix himself.
"I think your Papa is just a bit uptight," is all Phoenix says in the end. "If magic makes you happy, you should pursue it."
Trucy says, "I appreciate the encouragement, Mr. Wright, I really do, but I wouldn't want to be a disappointment to him, like Uncle Klavier is."
Phoenix narrows his eyes. "Has he ever said anything like that to you?"
"No, never," Trucy insists, her face tightening. "But I always hear him talking about how Uncle Klavier ran away to be a rockstar, and how sad the whole affair is. And I wouldn't want to be another disappointment that he's raised."
Forget the Los Angeles adoption agencies. Phoenix was going to rip Kristoph a new one himself.
"You're no disappointment, Trucy," Phoenix says. He keeps his voice low and gentle, so as not to frighten her. He hopes it's working. "Don't let your Papa know I said this, but sometimes, your parents are wrong. And you've got to make your own choices."
Trucy doesn't look at him for a few moments. "I understand what you're trying to say. And I always try, but I only seem to make him proud of me when I help him out in court. Everything else is just… I'm sorry, Mr. Wright. You never asked about any of this."
"I kind of did," Phoenix says, leaning forwards, "And you don't need to be sorry. I'm happy to listen to you."
Trucy shifts in her seat, crossing one leg over her knee. "Thank you. I… I just…"
God, how long has she been holding all this in? Phoenix nods his head, hoping that will prompt her to keep talking.
"I knit a beanie for him last year. He said the craftsmanship was good, but I could tell he didn't like it," Trucy says softly, "He's never worn it. Maybe it was foolish of me to think he'd want something like that, but he kept talking about how cold the Borscht Bowl Club gets…"
Phoenix replies, "You were doing something nice for him. Frankly, I think it's his loss."
Trucy looks at him carefully for a second. Then, she says, "Wait here for a minute, Mr. Wright." With that, she rushes out of the sitting room, and he hears the distant sound of sock feet hitting stairs. Trucy's back only two minutes later, cradling a piece of light blue fabric in her arms. She walks right up to him and holds it out to him.
"You… want me to have it?" Phoenix asks, staring at the beanie incredulously. It's definitely well made. 'Papa' is stitched in pink thread on the top.
Trucy looks bashful. "You don't have to take it if you don't want to."
Phoenix takes the beanie and puts it right on his head. It's soft and warm. Perfect for the winter, or just for the Hydeout. "I love it. You're a good kid, Trucy. You should probably go to bed pretty soon, though. I wouldn't want your Papa getting mad at me for keeping you up, especially with your important math test tomorrow."
Trucy blinks. It takes her a moment to realize that this means 'my lips are sealed', but she smiles up at him once it clicks. "Of course. Get home safe, Mr. Wright."
Phoenix grins at her. As an afterthought, he picks up his untouched glass of wine, carries it into the kitchen, and dumps it out in the sink. He can feel Trucy's piercing eyes on him as he does so, but quietly hopes it'll be one of those things that stays between them.
...Though, he really shouldn't be encouraging her to keep secrets from her father, right? That thought nags at him as he leaves the mansion, and slips into the night.
Halfway down the street, he turns around and looks back. Trucy is watching him from one of the windows. When she sees him looking, she waves, to which he raises his own hand in reply.
Seconds later, she turns the lights off.
Three days after Phoenix receives the beanie, an anonymous package is pushed through his mail slot. It takes a bit of poking at it for him to determine that it's safe to open, and the product he finds inside is confusing, to say the least.
It's a bottle of nail polish. The label says it's designed to change colours when exposed to drugged drinks.
He wonders just how anonymous this package really is.
Kristoph likes to show up at the office with very little warning. As a result, Phoenix likes to ignore him when he knocks. Except he can only do that for a couple minutes, because Kristoph knows he lives here now — because Kristoph fucking paid to have the place renovated for him — and Phoenix can't risk setting him off.
"It's really early, Gavin," Phoenix says, stifling a yawn as he opens the door. He's still in pajamas, while Kristoph's suit is ironed and pressed. "Can this wait?"
Kristoph smiles and holds up a plastic bag. "I'd rather not. Besides, I even brought you groceries."
"Bribing me, huh?" Phoenix chuckles, trying not to think about how he's going to have to burn everything in the bag, and possibly the bag itself. "Fine, fine, come in. You can just leave that by the door."
He opens the door, rubbing his temples to the beat of Kristoph's squeaky shoes. They sit down across from each other on the shitty polyester couches that came with the office when Mia first picked the place out. Phoenix doesn't even want to know what this is about — some stupid case. It's always some stupid case. That, or he wants to complain about rumours regarding the Jurist System, or maybe he just really wants to bring up State versus Enigmar again — but he's going to hear it anyways.
But what Kristoph says is none of the above. "I'm worried about you, Wright."
"Huh?" Phoenix replies, before he can even think. He's supposed to be playing his cards carefully, but this seems out of nowhere. And frankly, fucking terrifying.
Kristoph clasps his hands. "You're not getting enough sleep, and it's no secret that you haven't had a home cooked meal in ages. I'm worried that one day, you're going to disappear into the night. You don't exactly have a strong support system right now."
Phoenix frowns. "Gavin, you know that isn't entirely true. I have friends."
Kristoph's smile is so gentle that it makes his skin crawl. "Oh, you do. But they're all distant from you right now. Ms. Fey lives endlessly far away, and you've said she has no plans to visit the city anytime soon."
Phoenix made it pretty clear that it was in everyone's best interests if Maya never met Kristoph. It's not like they don't talk regularly, though. She still asks him for Steel Samurai reviews.
"Your relationship with Miles Edgeworth has always been so strained and broken."
That's rude, Phoenix thinks and doesn't say. It probably shows a little bit on his face, but Kristoph doesn't react to that. Anyways, he met Edgeworth yesterday.
"Your other friends, even the ones you spoke most highly of, have made no appearances in your life since your disbarment. Wright, nobody can deny that you're extremely alone. You don't even have family."
Phoenix breathes, "I'm not alone. I have you." And he seals his fate with three simple words.
Kristoph reaches out to put a hand on his arm, and he only just avoids jerking back violently. "Yes. You do have me, Wright. I know I can't be perfect, but I'm always looking out for you."
His heart is going way too fast. Phoenix feels his vision starting to blur, and he forces himself to stay focused. Kristoph is just one man. He can't control everything.
He wants to rip the man to shreds, he wants to fire a bullet into his skull, he wants to finish this goddamn war between them, and then after all this is over, tear himself apart. But for now, all he can do is smile up at the man who ruined his life.
"Trucy is worried about you too," Kristoph adds. If it was anyone else, Phoenix wouldn't think anything of the comment, but he's no fool. This has to be a trap.
So, he leans back on the couch and says, "That's sweet of her."
Kristoph watches him closely from behind his glasses. He's waiting for some kind of betrayal, some little tic that will give away all his secrets, any twitch that'll end the long game on the spot. When he gets nothing, he says, "She wanted to come with me, but she has school today."
"School's more important than a washed up ex-attorney," Phoenix points out. Kristoph purses his lips.
When Kristoph finally leaves, saying he has to visit the courthouse to get some paperwork dealt with, Phoenix goes out back and lights the bag of groceries on fire. He wonders, as it burns in front of him, if his paranoia is in any way justified. What can he really prove? That he's a strict father? Fuck, maybe Kristoph is actually worried about him.
Somehow, that makes him sicker than the alternative.
"What if I'm wrong about him?"
He's back in Edgeworth's office. It's pretty late at night, but Edgeworth is still there, working himself to death like always. Neither of them have anyone back at home waiting for them, except Charley (who's already been watered).
They're drinking hibiscus tea again. Phoenix is sitting on the couch, staring up at the ceiling, while Edgeworth gloomily looks out the window. They're supposed to be working on their case for the Jurist System, but at this point, Phoenix feels like he might pass out.
Edgeworth doesn't tear his eyes away from the window, but he says, "You're never wrong about people, Wright. In fact, it always astounds me how correct you are."
"Matt Engarde," Phoenix replies bitterly, sipping his tea.
Edgeworth responds, "You were in a state of discomposure during that trial, due to the circumstances surrounding it, which allowed for error. I seem to recall you learning the truth about him in under twelve hours, anyhow."
Engarde was just a shitty rich kid, though. Kristoph is a whole complication, and it's so hard to tell where politeness ends and where mind games begin. He's been doubting himself more and more, even though he just about knows for a fact that Kristoph got him disbarred.
(And then was the only person on the Bar Association to vote for him to keep his badge. He knows. Kristoph reminds him of that all the time.)
Edgeworth sets his tea cup on his desk and comes over to sit next to Phoenix on the couch. "You were right about me. Even when I'd convinced myself that I'd murdered my father, and confessed it to a court of law, all you did was straighten your back and prove my innocence."
"I know you, Edgeworth. Even back then, I knew you couldn't have done that," Phoenix replies. Even if they were barely repairing their lost friendship during that cursed trial, he'd been certain. Maya used to tease him about it.
Edgeworth says, "You unwavering faith in me was inspiring. And now, I've chosen to put all my belief in you."
Phoenix closes his eyes and whispers, "But if I'm wrong, then you're—"
"It's you, Phoenix. I know you're right about Gavin," Edgeworth says, grabbing his hand. He squeezes it for a very long moment, as they stare into each other's eyes.
They're both so wounded, even now. The system is broken, and even with their desperate struggle to build something from the ashes, there may be no fixing it.
Neither of them speak. All they can do is hold on and pray.
In between poker matches in the Hydeout, Phoenix gets twenty minutes to recuperate, and have some grape juice should he so choose. Across the room, Orly is shuffling the decks again, not paying him much mind.
While they sit alone in the cold, one of the servers pokes their head down the stairs. "Hey, Wright. There's someone here to see you. Should I tell her you're on break?"
Phoenix ponders it for half a second, then shakes his head. "Nah, you can send her in. I'm sure it'll be quick."
He listens to the sound of heeled boots on wood, wondering who could possibly need to see him during work hours, only for his mouth to dry out at the sight of her.
Trucy Gavin, wrapped tight in a winter coat with a fur lined neck. She walks up to him, stopping in front of the table with a grim expression on her face.
"Hey, Trucy," he says, trying to keep his heartbeat in check. "Your father's not here, if you're looking for him. We have dinner on Tuesday nights."
Trucy shakes her head. "I came to see you. Mr. Wright… A very long time ago, my Daddy told me I could trust you with anything if it came down to it."
Well, shit. The possibilities of what she could need are scaring him to death. Instead of trying to run over potential options like it's a fucked up multiple choice quiz, he leans forward. "What's going on? Are you okay?"
Trucy nervously looks over her shoulder, eyes landing on Orly. Even though they've been talking quietly enough that the dealer shouldn't have been able to hear them, she gets up and heads up the stairs. He owes her tonight's tips.
Phoenix adds softly, "I promise I won't tell anyone, unless absolutely necessary for your safety."
Trucy mulls this over, then nods. "Before I tell you… What do you think about Papa? Honestly."
That's a loaded question. Phoenix frowns instinctively, like they aren't in the shady basement of a shady restaurant, and could contract hypothermia at any moment. Trucy's shivering, and her breath is forming in front of her like wispy clouds.
Finally, he says, "I don't trust him. That's the simplest answer I can give you." His next opponent is going to be here any moment. He prepares to tell her that she can sit in on the match, and they can discuss the issue as soon as it's over, and even goes to pull out a chair for her.
Trucy bites her lip firmly. "That's—"
At the top of the stairs, someone's shoe squeaks. Phoenix and Trucy both look up, and a split second later, she dives under the table.
Orly's voice echoes down into the Hydeout. "I don't care that you're his friend. If you're here for a game, get in line."
Dread courses through his body as Kristoph says, "Are you sure this won't change your mind?"
Trucy looks up at him from under the table, looking genuinely scared for the first time since Zak Gramarye pulled his vanishing act. He stares back at her, shaking his head with both horror and confusion. If Kristoph sees her here, they'll both die. He can feel it deep in his gut, like there's a beast inside gnawing on him until he bleeds out his mouth.
"There's a tunnel behind the cupboard," he breathes. Trucy nods sharply and sprints out from under the table, pushing it out of the way.
Above their heads, Orly says, "Double that, and you've got yourself a deal, Mr. Gavin."
"I'll triple it, for your trouble," Kristoph promises, and Trucy disappears into the secret passage as creased bills are exchanged.
Why is he here, tonight of all nights? Right at this exact moment? He couldn't have known, could he? How would that even be possible, unless he put some kind of tracking device on his daughter?
He can't even tell if that would be too low for Kristoph or not. God damn it.
Kristoph makes his way down the stairs, smiling at him right as he steps into the room. His shoes squeak all the way to his usual seat. "Hello, Wright. What's with that look on your face?"
"It's Friday," Phoenix replies, hoping he doesn't sound like there's sand building up in his throat, because it's sure starting to feel that way.
Kristoph chuckles. "I thought we could mix up our routine a little. I'm sure you prefer me over your other usual customers."
Phoenix grins. It's effortless at this point, but whatever's chewing on his insides is getting worse. On the other end of the Hydeout tunnel is a ladder that goes up to the street. Assuming Trucy goes up it, she can escape and get back home long before Kristoph gets bored of losing at poker.
"I always welcome your company, Gavin."
They play three hands. Kristoph comes close to beating him during the second one, but crashes hard on the third. He doesn't look at the cupboard, and hopes Kristoph can't tell that he's shaking from the adrenaline rush. If it comes to it, he can blame it on how cold it is down here, but he doesn't even have to say that aloud to know it wouldn't be good enough.
"Thanks for stopping by," Phoenix says, when Kristoph gets up to leave. He's going to be so goddamn sick when the night is over, but for now, he can pretend that his fingers aren't twitching like crazy in his pockets.
Kristoph bows ever so slightly from the bottom of the stairwell. "But of course. You always make such a mundane day exciting."
Is that a compliment? Phoenix can't tell. He smiles and waits for thirty seconds after the shoe squeaking fades away, before exhaling and burying his face in his hands.
"Thanks," he mutters to Orly, who is shuffling the various decks again.
She snort-laughs. "Why are you thanking me? I'm the one who made $300 off your weird friend. Makes me think I should accept bribes more often."
Wouldn't that be a fucking treat. Phoenix's snappy comeback evaporates in the moment that the cupboard slides open again, and Trucy steps back out with wide, red eyes.
"You're still here?!" Phoenix exclaims. He desperately lowers his voice when she winces. "I thought you were going to try and get out of here before—"
Trucy, still shivering, walks back up to him. "I couldn't leave before I got to tell you why I came here. If I went home, it would be as if I never left."
He doesn't want to interrupt her, but Phoenix is starting to go crazy wondering what the hell Kristoph could have possibly done to make Trucy come here with her knees knocking together. It occurs to him that she's not cold, she's just frightened.
Trucy asks, "If I asked you to hide me somewhere longterm, would you be able to do it?"
"What the hell did he do to you?" Phoenix responds immediately, his jaw tightening.
"I convinced a classmate to buy me a forensics testing kit online," Trucy says quietly, staring down at the laces on her boots. "I didn't think I'd have to use it. But this morning… Papa was acting odd while he made us breakfast."
Oh no.
Trucy pulls a tightly sealed plastic sandwich bag out of her pocket, clenching it tight in her black leather gloves. There's a white strip of paper inside, and it's stained with a deep blue.
Oh fuck no.
"For the record," she says softly, "I tested for poison."
Across the room, Orly's eyes snap open wide, and she pulls the bills she got from Kristoph out of her pocket with an incredulous expression on her face.
Phoenix murmurs, "Oh, Trucy…" What the hell is he supposed to say to that? 'Don't worry, you're not the first person he's tried to poison!'
Trucy stuffs the bag back in her pocket and wipes her eyes with her other hand. "What do I do, Mr. Wright?"
Somehow, both his biggest fears — Kristoph and more poison. Kristoph hurting Trucy. — are combining together in the worst way possible. Phoenix grabs her hand, and she starts crying. Orly discreetly gets up from her chair and heads up the stairs.
Even if he's terrified out of his wits right now, he's the adult. "Where does he think you are right now? Is he going to try and check up on you?"
Trucy shakes her head. "I told him my school friends organized a girl's slumber party. I'll be fine until morning— Unless. Unless he calls and asks…"
Phoenix says, "Once we're done talking, you can use the restaurant phone to call your friend and ask her to cover for you. Will that work?"
Trucy thinks about it for a moment, then nods. "Thank you. Thank you… I don't know what to do…"
Phoenix barely does either at this point. "I'll do whatever I can. I'm going to ask you a weird question, okay?"
"What?" Trucy replies, wiping her eyes again. She can barely keep tears out of them.
"You remember the diary page you brought me? Five years ago?" Phoenix asks. When she nods, he asks, "Do you remember who gave it to you?"
Trucy frowns. "Um… It was a man. In a fancy suit, I think. I wasn't… paying attention, though. I doubt I could identify him. Why?"
"Gavin thinks otherwise," Phoenix says very carefully, "That's my best guess for explaining those test results in your pocket."
Trucy tilts her head, like she hasn't quite processed it. "But why would Papa care about— Mr. Wright? Are you saying it was…?"
Phoenix murmurs, "You hit the nail on the head."
Trucy gags. Phoenix gets up, wrapping an arm around her, and leads her up to the ground floor. While she deals with the payphone in the corner, he tells Orly it's an emergency, and if the boss is pissed at him for leaving, he'll work late tomorrow. She just shrugs without looking at him, but he knows she'll pass it on.
After a couple minutes, Trucy hangs up and meets him by the back door. She still looks sick, but a little bit relieved. "Lulu said he hasn't called. And she'll help me out if he does."
Phoenix says, "Hey, good. Small miracles. Now, why don't we get you out of this place? If you can't go home, you have to spend the night somewhere."
Trucy bites her lip. "I can't pay for a hotel room. He'll know the money went somewhere he doesn't approve. And I couldn't ask you to spend money on me."
Phoenix wraps his arm around her again. They walk out into the dark backstreets, and Trucy crans her neck to look up at the moon. He says, "I've got a fold-up cot in my closet at the office. If it's not weird, you can crash there, and I'll walk you to the bus stop in the morning." It's a leftover from when he and Maya would pass out in the office in the middle of crushing cases.
"Thank you," Trucy whispers, "I know I keep saying that, but I really mean it, Mr. Wright."
Phoenix replies, "Don't mention it. All that matters is that you're safe. Don't suppose you've eaten at all today?"
Her stomach grumbles in response. Phoenix tries to picture the contents of his fridge, and hopes there's something in there that'll be enough for her.
It's not too long of a walk back to the office, but Trucy is definitely half asleep by the end. While he sets up the cot in the space that used to hold several filing cabinets of paperwork, he tells her to help herself to whatever she can find in the kitchen.
Once he's done, he heads over to find her sitting on the counter, sipping a cup of warm milk, and holding a small bottle. "You kept the nail polish," she says.
Phoenix smiles gently. "So that was you who brought it."
Trucy shrugs and takes another long sip of milk. "I watched you pour your wine out. I thought it would be useful."
"You were right," Phoenix says, holding up his left hand. He's been applying it when meeting with Kristoph, and this week's coat hasn't entirely come off yet.
Trucy closes her eyes and says, "I'm glad I could help." She looks like she could start snoring right here in the kitchen.
"The cot's ready when you are, kiddo. There's extra blankets and pillows in the closet if you need 'em," Phoenix says, squeezing her shoulder. "I sleep like a rock, so don't be afraid to wake me when you need to go tomorrow."
Trucy smiles. It's genuine. She's a little candle in a very dark world, and as Phoenix carries her to the fold-up cot, he knows he will do anything to make sure she doesn't get snuffed out.
Before he takes Trucy to the bus stop in the morning, Phoenix gets two answers from her.
The first is the transit lines she takes home from school every day. It's going to be difficult to get into contact with her in a manner that Kristoph won't find out about, and this seems like the least risky option.
"C Line from the school to the main station, and then the 75 goes to about a block from the house. If I'm not on the bus, Papa decided to drive me."
The second is where she wants to go, once they have everything figured out. Even if the best place to hide something is in plain sight, Phoenix knows he wouldn't be able to properly nurture her. That, and with how often Kristoph comes knocking, the office wouldn't be safe.
She's got options. Edgeworth is within the city, can definitely afford to privately tutor her, and has enough security to protect her. Plus, it makes her easy to visit.
Maya is easy enough to get to if you know what you're doing. Trucy would be able to have a friend her age, and fresh mountain air. There's also the added bonus of Kristoph not knowing where Kurain Village is.
Gumshoe is a couple cities over now, and doing a lot better financially. He could drive over quickly, and he owes Phoenix a couple favours. However, he's just as busy as Edgeworth these days, if not more.
Franziska is a long shot, but he's been told multiple times that she's a bleeding heart for kids, and he's willing to reach out to her. Unfortunately, she's back in Germany for the foreseeable future, and it might be risky to hinge their plan on her when their access to Trucy's passport is in limbo.
"Based on what you've told me, Kurain Village sounds the safest. I can get there from the main station?"
For five and a half years, they've been playing Kristoph's long game. It's time to start a game of their own.
On Monday afternoon, Phoenix is sitting near the back of the 75 with an old legal pad on his lap when Trucy boards. She doesn't look at him as she takes a seat next to him, but she puts her school bag between her knees and takes the legal pad from him.
Already written on it are a few questions about their plan. She pulls a ballpoint pen out of her pocket and begins scribbling down her replies. It's a strange gimmick, maybe, but it's probably the best option they have. When she passes the pad back, Phoenix looks down with a lump in his throat.
"Has he tried anything since we last met?"
"No. But I think he noticed that I got 'sick' during breakfast on Friday."
"How fast could you get out if it was necessary?"
"Half an hour, maybe. I can bus anywhere in LA & school gives me certain train passes."
"Do you have an emergency bag? Can you put one together?"
"Papa goes thru my room intermittently. Not sure where I could hide it."
"School bag?"
"That could work. It's not very big, so it'd be hard to fit a lot in it. Already hard to keep my forensics kit in it."
"We can get you new clothes/etc in Kurain. Bag would be for passport/health card, cash, anything you'd be miserable w/o."
"Okay. I think I can manage that. Not sure where he hides my documentation. Could be at his office."
"Keep me updated. Maya says she can take you in whenever. She's already setting up a room."
"Here's my phone number (213-891-0042) don't put it in your cell or write it down, memorize it. Call me from a public phone right before you leave for good."
"Will do. Thank you."
That's all they get before Trucy's stop comes. She gets off the bus without ever glancing at him, but it's enough. It has to be enough.
"How far is Kurain?"
"2 hours by train. You have to take a bus up to Fey Manor after that."
"Ok. I should go early in the day."
"I'll get you the timetables tomorrow. It's infrequent, you have to time it well."
"I can do that. I have my bag ready, but I'm not sure if I should leave yet."
"Is he giving you trouble?"
"Opposite. Extra affectionate and doting. He praised me for a B+ on my Chemistry test. I was dreading having to show him."
"Be careful. He might suspect something's up."
"That's what I'm worried about. Don't want to give him reason to think I'm hiding anything from him."
"I've been watching him cook. Testing food + my things when I can. Nothing else has come up Almost wonder if it was a fluke."
"He doesn't do 'flukes.' Why'd you buy the testing kit anyways?"
"You. Saw you always dumping food/drink when we met for meals. Had to be sure. Nail polish couldn't catch everything."
"I have a friend in Europe who can get you replacement if needed."
"You have a lot of interesting friends."
"So I'm told."
"Maya says she'll buy extra school workbooks so you can keep up with your education."
"That's a relief. I was worried about falling behind."
"Might not be perfect, but we'll try. In return, you've gotta show her how to use a computer."
"Oh, I can do that."
"That was mostly a joke. I think she knows how to do that now."
"I'll find some other way to make everything up to her. And you."
"You don't worry about any of that. We're happy to help you."
For three days in a row, Phoenix doesn't see Trucy at all. He wishes he could contact her, but resigns himself to staring out the window, and texting Maya about their next few steps. Apparently, she wants to get Trucy a fake ID.
He prays they won't be too late.
"I'm scared."
"Did something happen?"
"No. Nothing's happened and it's making me think I'm crazy. That we're doing this for no reason. I'm sorry, I'm burdening you."
"You're no burden. I know I sometimes think that I'm just paranoid, but if we're both paranoid for the same reasons, it might be justified."
"I'm sorry. I'm really really sorry. I was going to go tomorrow, but now I don't think I can."
"If it's not safe for you to leave, it's okay. I'll still be here."
"I don't want to go home either. I don't know WHAT to do."
"Where's he tonight?"
"Home, probably. Doesn't have a case rn."
"I'll see if he'll meet me for borscht. Give you a couple hours."
"You don't have to."
"It's the least I can do."
It's mid October when Phoenix's phone rings at half-past seven in the morning. Still groggy from work, he fumbles for it and mumbles a greeting into the receiver.
Trucy's voice is quiet, but clear. "I'm ready. My train comes in ten minutes."
"I'm so proud of you," Phoenix says, sitting upright. Already, he's wide awake. "You're insanely brave, kiddo. I'll let Maya know you're en route."
Trucy says, "Thank you so much, Mr. Wright. I'm eternally grateful."
Phoenix chuckles. "You did all the hard work. I just rode the bus with a legal pad. Don't miss your train, okay?"
"I won't. Goodbye, Mr. Wright," Trucy says. She sounds relieved, like there's a bit of weight lifting off her shoulders. She must be terrified, even so.
"Be safe," he murmurs, right before she hangs up. Phoenix stares at his phone in his hand for a couple moments, then fires the appropriate texts to Maya. He hears the notification noise go off, but he doesn't check for a message.
He's tired. If it's an emergency, she'll phone.
In fact, Maya doesn't call until around ten in the morning, when Phoenix is in the middle of signing documents in Edgeworth's office again.
"Hiya, Nick! The eagle has landed!"
Phoenix laughs. "I'm with Edgeworth. You're safe to talk."
Maya yells, "Hi, Mr. Edgeworth! Pearly says hi too!"
Edgeworth looks up from his paperwork and calls out, "Hello to you too, Ms. Fey. I hope you are well."
Maya snort-laughs into the receiver, and Phoenix puts the phone back up to his ear. "How's it going? Is Trucy feeling okay?"
"I'm pretty sure she's gonna need an hour or so to cry, but yeah," Maya says. He can hear the bamboo floor creaking in the background. "Pearly's helping her get some new clothes. Those two are about the same size, so they can share."
Phoenix rubs his face. "I hope she'll manage up there. I'm worried."
Maya says, "Wow, don't you trust me to look after her? I'm wounded, Nick. We're supposed to be best friends."
"Maya, I trust you with my life. I just have a feeling she's been through more than she's letting on," Phoenix admits. "Can't prove it, but I don't think the poison stunt was the first thing Gavin did to her."
Maya hums thoughtfully. "I'll keep an eye out. I'd better go, I wanna get her something to eat."
"You do that. Call me if anything comes up," Phoenix says.
He gets approximately three seconds of silence after hanging up before his phone rings again. This time, however, it's Kristoph calling. Showtime.
"Hey, Gavin," Phoenix says, trying to act as casual as possible. He's not supposed to know something is wrong. Edgeworth hears him and pushes aside his work, so Phoenix puts his phone on speaker.
Kristoph sounds genuinely distressed. "Wright, it's an emergency. Where are you right now?"
Phoenix replies, "Uh, getting groceries. What's going on? You sound terrible."
"Trucy's missing," Kristoph says. In the background, he can hear the sound of tires screeching. Is he driving?! "She never arrived at school today. I've been tearing the house apart, but she isn't anywhere."
Edgeworth frowns and folds his hands tightly. Phoenix hopes he sounds concerned enough when he says, "Oh my god. You want me to help you search? I'm already downtown."
"Please. I'm absolutely desperate," Kristoph says, sounding more and more like he's on the verge of shattering. It's scary. In all these years of performing, he's never heard Kristoph sound vulnerable. It almost makes him feel guilty.
Almost.
Kristoph says, "I've called the parents of her friends. None of them have seen her. She left her cellphone in her room this morning, and she hasn't made any strange calls or texts. I don't know what to do, Wright."
"What do I do, Mr. Wright?"
Phoenix shakes his head. "I'll look too. I'm sure she's just… playing hooky at an arcade somewhere. We'll find her, Gavin."
"I sincerely hope you are correct," Kristoph says, right before hanging up.
Edgeworth sighs and rubs his forehead. "I'm amazed it took him this long to contact you. What are you going to tell him?"
Phoenix gets to his feet, smiling tiredly. It's all he knows how to do anymore. "I'll do what I do best. Bluff until it sticks."
Edgeworth's eyebrows knit together, but eventually, all he says is, "I wish you luck. Let me know if there's anything I can do."
Phoenix shrugs. "I dunno. Send Maya a cheque for all her hard work."
"I already did, but I can easily write another," Edgeworth says, opening his desk drawer.
Phoenix says, "Wow, that was a joke. Thank you, Edgeworth. Miles. I really appreciate it."
Edgeworth offers him the smallest of smiles, then waves his hand. Phoenix rushes out the door in the next second.
He meets Kristoph at the public library, and they start combing Los Angeles. Kristoph says over and over again that she could be anywhere, so they search the city as best they possibly can.
Lordly Tailor. Gourd Lake. Trés Bien. Sunshine Coliseum. Every public park as far as the eye can see. Penrose Theatre. Themis Legal Academy. Gatewater Land. Every restaurant any of them have been to in the last year and a half. GYAXA Space Centre.
By the end of the day, all they've managed to do is file a missing person report, and mobilize Klavier — who had returned to the country two days ago. They sit in Gavin Law Offices, looking at flight records for the day, while Kristoph tears his hands through his hair.
Phoenix is leaning on the wall, intermittently sneaking glances at the blond. The blue beanie is hidden in his hoodie pocket, because he figures it's the last thing the man needs to see right now. Especially with the lie he's about to hear.
"Oh, shit. Was that…?"
Kristoph looks up at him, his glasses falling askew. "What?! What, Wright?! Did you find something?!"
Phoenix shakes his head. "No, just… this just occurred to me. A week or so ago… Zak showed up at the Borscht Bowl Club."
"As in Gramarye? Shadi Enigmar?" Kristoph questions, horror already spreading across his face.
Phoenix nods. "Him. Said he wanted to see Trucy again, and I told him that you'd adopted her. I gave him your address and everything."
Kristoph tightly folds his arms around his chest. It's time for the finishing blow.
"You never mentioned it to me, so I didn't think about it anymore. But now… now that she's disappeared out of the blue…" Phoenix trails off, letting the story finish itself.
Kristoph slams his fist on his mahogany desk. "He took her?! He didn't even dare show his face to me!"
"I guess he is her father, but I can't believe he'd be so callous," Phoenix says, despite the fact that he can definitely believe that. Zak was already planning to run before he hired an attorney. He wouldn't put any of this past him.
Kristoph rages for several minutes, before insisting that this could only be a possibility, and they should resume searching tomorrow. Phoenix agrees, like a good friend. Like he doesn't know exactly where Trucy has been tucked away.
When he's safe back at the office, completely out of earshot from everyone except his favourite cordyline stricta plant, Phoenix makes a call.
"Hey, Gumshoe? You know how you owe me a bunch of favours? I need to cash in now."
Gumshoe stifles a yawn. "Sure, pal. Is this about the missing person report from earlier? Some people at the station let me know you were involved. I can get it accelerated first thing—"
"No, no, don't do that!" Phoenix says, cutting him off, "I need it buried. As best as you can. As few people need to be looking as possible."
He can hear Gumshoe raise an eyebrow on the other end of the line. "Uhh, you sure, pal? I mean, that's a missing kid, right?"
Phoenix says, "I know how it sounds. But trust me when I say that getting her back to Gavin is the worst thing that could happen to her."
Gumshoe replies, "I'll take your word for it, pal. But after this, we're even."
"Thank you," Phoenix says, tightening his grip around the phone.
Six months after Trucy's vanishing act, Phoenix takes the train up to Kurain Village for the first time.
Kristoph hasn't given up, but he isn't tearing the city apart anymore either. Every week, instead of getting borscht, they do another search that never goes anywhere. Kristoph puts up 'MISSING' posters that Phoenix takes down whenever he runs into them. Gumshoe keeps his word about burying the report, despite pressure from Kristoph.
It's now that he finally feels safe to visit. Just for a few days, of course. It'll be enough to catch up. He finds himself smiling even as he catches sight of his disheveled reflection in the window.
Maya is waiting for him at the train station. They walk up the hill to the manor together, despite protests about how bad his back has gotten. It's an easier trip than it would have been six years ago, at least.
"Pearly! Melody! We're here!" Maya shouts as they enter Fey Manor. Instantly, Phoenix hears two young girls scrambling to come to the door.
'Melody' is the name on Trucy's fake ID. Though nobody in Kurain Village has any idea who she really is, and have no reason to suspect the Master of Kurain of doing anything shady, Maya had said it would be better safe than sorry.
The two of them appear at the same time. Trucy's gotten taller, but Pearl still towers over her. It brings a tear to his eyes at the sight of her, wrapped up in pink medium's robes, her hair cut short and beaded.
"Wow, look at you two!" Phoenix says, ruffling their hair. "It's good to see you kids again."
Pearl clasps her hands. "You too, Mr. Nick! I'll get your stuff!"
She runs off to grab his suitcase and drag it into the guest room. Meanwhile, Trucy hesitates for only a second before hugging him. She whispers, "Thank you, Mr. Wright. Thank you so much."
Phoenix chuckles. "I think 'Phoenix' is fine now. Or 'Nick', even. No need to be formal."
Trucy smiles, and reaches into her pocket. "Okay! Would you like to see a magic trick?"
"Absolutely," Phoenix says, conviction clear in his voice. She produces a deck of cards, and Phoenix snaps his fingers. "Hey, you brought the cards I gave you."
Trucy bounces up and down, her eyes shining bright. "Well, I had to bring what was most important. I had to leave a lot behind, but I made sure I got these, and Mr. Hat."
Phoenix grins. "After the card trick, please show me Mr. Hat. I've missed his antics."
Trucy beams and unfolds her cards. Phoenix smiles, thinking about how this year, he has an even better birthday present for her — a magician's hat and cloak in soft blue — and selects one from the deck.
Ace of hearts. When Trucy gets it right a few minutes later, he applauds, and she bows dramatically. It's the happiest he's ever seen her.