Age Sixteen

"I'll come pick you up as soon as things settle down here. Promise."

Dhurke smiles and waves at him, but the further the car carries him away from him, the more his smile turns into a satisfied smirk, and he sees him mouth: "He's gone. Finally."

Apollo wants to scream at him – "Liar! Traitor!" – but in the next moment, he is the one being screamed at – he has accidentally broken a plate, his new foster father's face is red with fury while his new foster mother tries to shield Apollo from him –

He's thirteen years old and sitting in the group home's common room, and while all around him, the other kids are busy opening their last Christmas presents, his eyes are glued to the television. A live broadcast of a courtroom trial is being shown – "State vs. Edgeworth, 3rd trial", the letters proclaim below – and the defence attorney in the blue suit points at the scary looking old guy at the prosecutor's bench, his eyes filled with a fire that ignites Apollo's old dream again, the dream he has given up upon when he has realized that Dhurke has been false all along. He watches on as the attorney wins the trial, the scary prosecutor finally defeated, and thinks that this man might be his new hero. Yes, he is going to be a lawyer someday, too – a lawyer just like Phoenix Wright, the man with blue fire in his eyes and iron strength in his voice.

And then, he is staring at that newspaper headline from a few days ago – "Genius Prosecutor Reveals Crooked Attorney!" – with a photo of Phoenix Wright below it, feeling the same sense of betrayal he has felt years ago when he realizes that yet another man that he has considered a hero and an idol has turned out to be nothing but false.

"'Pollo! 'Pollo, wake up!"

"…Huh…?"

Apollo slowly opens his eyes and looks around, confused. This room is certainly not the familiar dormitory, and he's also not lying in his own bed. Instead, he's lying on an… air mattress?

Oh, right, he's at his best friend Clay's house, having a sleepover. And Clay has also been the one that woke him up, given the nickname and the fact that he's still insistently shaking his shoulder. "C'mon, 'Pollo, wake up! We gotta get up!"

"What're you talking 'bout…" Apollo murmurs, closing his eyes again. "'s still dark outside…"

"That's the point! We have to go watch the stars! This is the ideal moment, there's not a cloud in the sky! C'mon!"

Apollo groans and pulls his blanket up to his chin. "You go. I'll sleep."

"Oh no, you won't!" Clay pulls away Apollo's blanket, causing him to sit up in annoyance. "You're coming with me!"

"But Clay, I want to sleep!"

"Oh, stop being like that, we can go back to sleep afterwards. C'mon!" Clay jumps to his feet and when Apollo doesn't do the same, he grabs his arm and yanks him up and out of the room. "Come on!"

"…Uh… yeah, yeah, I'm coming, okay? You don't have to rip my arm off…"

Only a few minutes later, they are sitting on the flat roof, looking into the sky. They have been here for so often now that even Apollo's fear of height doesn't bother him anymore. And fortunately, Clay has thought of taking some blankets with him, it is a really cold night after all.

"I love to watch the stars," Clay says, leaning back a little, eyes fixed on the dark sky. "They're so beautiful. The most beautiful thing in the world. And soon, I'll be up there, too."

Apollo lowers his head and lets his fingers run over the strange engraved patterns of his bracelet.

"What is it?" Clay asks.

"Nothing. I just… remembered something."

"Remembered what?"

Apollo sighs. "It's just… someone used to tell me that the stars were lanterns, lit by the souls of the ones who have passed on to the next world – the Twilight Realm – to tell their loved ones still on earth of their presence."

"Huh." Clay frowns. "But that's not – "

"I know that it's not scientifically true, but… I still like to believe it."

Funny how, even after all that has happened, he still finds himself holding on to those Khura'inist beliefs. But it is kind of… comforting, the thought that maybe, just maybe, one of those millions of lights up there is the one that his biological father has lit for him; a man who has left this world before Apollo has even learned to walk.

He wonders what that man has been like. Has he loved him, has he been proud of him? Would he be proud of him if he could see him now – a moody teenage boy with a too loud voice and a strange eyesight condition that no doctor he has ever been to can make sense of and that over time has become so strong it now always results in him having migraine attacks?

Next to him, Clay crosses his arms. "My father thinks I'm crazy for wanting to become an astronaut," he says, his voice unusually quiet.

"What? Why?"

"He thinks that I'm not going to make it, that I'm not going to be able to meet the requirements of the job and the training."

Apollo thinks about this for a moment. "Well… they have high requirements there, everyone knows that, but… if you really want it, you're going to make it! I believe in you!"

"Really?" Clay looks at him, eyes full of hope. "You really believe that?"

"Of course!" Apollo says firmly. "You're Clay Terran and you're fine! You're going to be the best astronaut the world has ever seen!"

Clay takes a deep breath. "I'm Clay Terran and I'm FINE!" he yells out into the night, and then laughs. "Hope that didn't wake Dad. But I needed it. Thanks, 'Pollo. You're going to be a great lawyer, too, just you wait."

"Thanks. But I'm not sure if I even want to become a lawyer anymore."

"What?" Clay exclaims. "But it was always your dream!"

"I know… but maybe it was the wrong dream."

"Oh, don't be silly! Is it because of Phoenix Wright's disbarment?"

Apollo hugs his knees to his chest and stays silent.

"I knew it!" Clay says triumphantly. "'Pollo, look, I understand how hard it must be for you – I mean, that guy was your first celebrity crush. But – "

"No, he wasn't!"

" – But you shouldn't let anyone have influence over your dreams. Especially not the ones you've had for such a long time. Alright? You're going to be the best lawyer of them all. And me the best astronaut. And together, we'll make the best team!"

"Phoenix Wright was not my celebrity crush!"

"Oh c'mon, 'Pollo, he totally was. You should have seen your face every time you saw that guy on TV or in the papers, you were so obvious."

Apollo gives him a light shove into the side. "Shut up!"

Clay just laughs and raises his hands in mock surrender.

For a few minutes, both silently look up into the dark sky. Then…

"…'Pollo?"

"Hm?"

"…Somehow, I never asked you about it before and… I understand if you don't want to talk about it, you don't have to answer…"

"Why, what is it?"

"Um, well… I was wondering… you told me you don't have a mum either, but… what about your dad?"

Even just out of the corner of his eye, Clay can see his friend tense up. "I'm sorry, I should have known you wouldn't want to talk about it," he says quickly. "I mean, you live at a group home and… I'm sorry. I'm gonna stop talking now."

"No, it's… fine. There's not much to tell. I've never had a father."

Almost immediately after he has said this, Apollo feels the strange sensation he always feels just before his vision goes haywire. It happens now as well – somehow, he can't keep his gaze on the stars anymore, his eyes start to search around almost on their own accord, focussing on the chimney, Clay's arm, his own hands, suddenly seeing everything as if he were putting it under a microscope: he sees every patch of moss on the bricks of the chimney, every crease on Clay's pyjama sleeve, the way his own index finger taps against his leg. It is so detailed it is painful and his eyes, while seeing everything so clearly, still cannot seem to focus on a specific detail; they just skim over everything at once, searching and searching, and he has no control, no control at all and he can feel his migraine coming back –

He must have made some sound, because suddenly, Clay's hands are on his shoulders. "'Pollo, is it the focus again?"

Apollo can only nod.

"Okay. Remember what we said that you are supposed to do when you're having this?"

He nods again. He is supposed to close his eyes until it is gone again, but it is so difficult. He doesn't have control anymore, and it's terrifying.

He doesn't know how and when, but at some point, he manages it, and everything going blissfully dark. He brings up his hands to cover his eyes – just to be sure – and waits. Clay's hands are still resting on his shoulders, steadying him. "Okay, you're doing good. Now just calm your breathing, everything's fine, okay? You're Apollo Justice and you're fine."

It feels like ages go by until he can finally feel that it's gone again. He hesitantly lifts his hands from his face and opens his eyes, relieved when he sees everything normal again. He takes a shaky breath.

"Clay, I think I'm going crazy."

"'Pollo – "

"No, really. This isn't normal. No one but me has those problems. What's wrong with me? I don't know what's wrong with me!" His voice breaks.

Clay looks at him, concerned. "I don't know what this condition is, but you're not going crazy. Maybe it has something to do with stress? I shouldn't have asked you about your father…"

"No! No, this happens all the time, this wasn't because of you. It was… it was me, I… I'm going crazy, I must be!"

"No," Clay insists. "You're not, 'Pollo! Maybe, you're just tired. I woke you up after all. Let's just go back to sleep, alright? Is your migraine back?"

Apollo nods weakly. "It always is after those episodes. Maybe they're the cause for it, I don't know."

"Okay, well… you need to sleep. Let's go back, okay?"

"…Okay…"

But Apollo is not able to go back to sleep. He lies awake as the minutes and hours tick by, staring at the ceiling, his head still aching though the darkness of the room helps.

This condition is not normal.

It has first started when he has been about thirteen, and back then, it has just been a twitch of his vision, almost non-recognizable, and now… now… it's become so strong and impossible to control it scares him, and there's no one he can ask or talk to about it. Dhurke – no, he is not going to think about him anymore, that man has never existed in his life. His mother… well, he doesn't know who or where she is. And, taking into consideration that she has never really tried to find him, it's obvious that she doesn't want him. And his father... well… he remembers Nahyuta telling him once that the souls in the Twilight Realm can still hear them.

After reassuring himself that Clay is really asleep, he quietly gets up and moves to the window, looking up at the sky once more.

"Uh… Dad?" It's so strange saying that word, it feels almost foreign. "I… I really have a problem and I don't know what it is or what to do, can you… can you help me?"

He waits, but nothing happens.

Well.

"Of course you can't," Apollo murmurs quietly. "You can't hear me at all, can you? I'm sorry, I guess I don't know what I'm doing anymore."

Nahyuta has obviously been wrong. What has he even been expecting? An image of his father appearing in the sky and talking to him, like in The Lion King? This is real life; his father is dead and not going to help or even hear him. He's acting ridiculous.

Apollo turns around and makes his way back to his mattress, where he curls into his blankets, buries his face into his pillow and bites his lip, a few tears escaping his eyes. He curses silently. He is alone, and he should just learn to deal with it already.

He doesn't notice or feel the puff of wind suddenly blowing through the half-open window, gently brushing his cheek and then his wrist and the golden bracelet clinging to it.