Author's Note: Warning for more discussion of capital punishment. Second to last chapter! Thank you so much to everyone who has been reading and reviewing, I really really appreciate it!
5.
Sebastian misses the call telling him that his father's execution has been scheduled.
He is in court when they call him, and though he feels the buzzing of his silenced phone in his pocket, a quick glance at the screen tells him it isn't related to the case currently being tried and thus not something that he can allow himself to be distracted by. The vibration a few seconds later tells him that a message was left, and he thinks nothing else of it, needing all of his focus to keep up with the defense for the case. Though it has been six years since Sebastian passed the bar and he no longer panics as readily as he once did—though he has acquired his own flair and style—the running of a trial isn't something that comes as effortlessly to him as it does to some of his friends.
He doesn't lose, though. Despite the defense presenting unexpected evidence, Sebastian is able to regain the momentum of his attack, and despite the defendant having been granted a twenty-four hour reprieve due to the judge's unwillingness to pass judgment before all potential avenues have been explored, Sebastian is certain tomorrow will go his way.
Gumshoe is waiting in the prosecutor's lounge for him. The big detective is pacing back and forth, his mouth turned down in a fierce frown, and he spins toward the door as soon as Sebastian steps through. "Mr. DeBeste, sir. Good job in there, pal."
Sebastian can't help but smile at the odd mix of formality and familiarity that has become Gumshoe's main method of coping with Sebastian's advancing age and career. It's not the most graceful thing, but it's very Gumshoe, and it helps to remind Sebastian that he has friends—not only friends, but friends who respect what he does, what he has made of himself. "Thank you, detective. I'm glad to hear that you approve. Are you here to see me?"
"I am." Gumshoe's expression becomes utterly grave. "You haven't checked your phone yet, right?"
"I—no." Sebastian automatically reaches for the object, dread starting to build in his stomach. "Has something happened? To Prosecutor Edgeworth?"
Gumshoe immediately shakes his head, and Sebastian draws a deep, shuddering breath. Edgeworth is traveling again, a very brief trip to England this time. Though he spends more time in the country with every passing year, is amassing quite a deal of respect and power both locally as well as internationally, the frequent trips mean that if someone is going to be involved in an accident, he's the most likely one. "Kay, then? Klavier?"
Gumshoe shakes his head at each name, running a hand back through his hair. "All of our pals are fine, don't worry. It's... well, do you want me to tell you, or do you want Mr. Edgeworth to? He said I can call him, if you want to hear the news from him, but you're absolutely not t' hear it from a recording."
"Oh." Sebastian moves to one of the benches, setting his bag down and sitting without any grace. He knows, though. He began preparing for this over a year ago, when the standard time from sentencing to execution had passed; he re-prepared himself six months ago, when his father's final appeal was turned down; and yet... it doesn't quite feel true, still. It has been six years, and the boy who testified at his father's trial has grown into a man that thought he long ago came to terms with it, but his hands are shaking still as he looks up at Gumshoe. "It's about my father, isn't it?"
Gumshoe nods, and Sebastian appreciates, at least, that the detective doesn't try to beat around the bush anymore. "The execution order for your father was signed this mornin', with the sentence to be carried out tomorrow mornin' at oh-nine-hundred hours."
"Tomorrow..." Sebastian licks his lips, trying to force his mind to start working in complete sentences again. "But... executions are normally carried out in the evening. I have a trial tomorrow. Plus Prosecutor Edgeworth—"
Biting down on his bottom lip, Sebastian forces himself to draw a deep breath through his nose. Edgeworth promised him, six years ago, that Sebastian wouldn't have to stand alone at his father's execution. As the prosecutor at the trial, Edgeworth would be notified, as well, and he had promised that he would attend, though Edgeworth normally doesn't. Edgeworth says he sees no reason to go, save in very particular cases—when Sebastian borrowed Klavier's almost-frighteningly extensive dossier on Edgeworth and looked into it, the last one he personally attended was that of Matt Engarde; the one before that had been Damon Gant's.
He can't very well attend if he's in Europe, though. Sebastian can't very well attend—he can't abandon his pursuit of justice just because—
"Yes sir, Mr. Edgeworth sir, I'm standing right here next to him." Gumshoe stands straighter, his cell phone pressed hard to his ear, and even if Sebastian hadn't heard the name, he would know who Gumshoe is talking to. Gumshoe favors only one person with that much attention and dedication even at a distance, though he has been a good friend and ally to Kay and Sebastian and Klavier over the years. "I'll put him right on, sir."
Mister Edgeworth, Gumshoe mouths as he holds out the phone to Sebastian, and Sebastian takes it in fingers that tremble just slightly.
"Sebastian." Edgeworth's voice is calm, though there is the faintest overlay of concern, something that Sebastian has become very good at picking up on over the years. "You've heard about what's happened?"
"Y-yes." Trying to draw another breath in through his nose, Sebastian is horrified to hear himself sniffling. He will not do this. He will not break down crying over a man who has been incarcerated on death row now for a quarter of his life. "It's f-fine."
"No, it's not." Edgeworth's voice is a low growl, something Sebastian is more used to hearing from Agent Lang than from the normally stoic prosecutor. "Somehow your father, despite being on death row for six years, still has enough influence to make his own death into a messy business for everyone. Scheduling it for the middle of a work day—I will find out who allowed this, and make sure it doesn't happen again. Not that it's going to happen this time, either. I already have phone calls in to certain people, and I expect to have it rescheduled for the evening like any reasonable execution."
Reasonable execution. Sebastian's fingers turn white-knuckled where they grip Gumshoe's phone, and his breath whistles in his too-tight throat. He has not been to an execution since he and Klavier attended Broil's; he doesn't think Klavier has, either.
"And I will be there, Sebastian." Edgeworth's voice is softer, almost gentle. "I promised you, and I don't rescind on my promises."
"B-but..." Sebastian shakes his head. "You have work, you can't just jump on a plane and—"
"I can and I will. Especially with the extra time provided by moving the hanging, I should be able to charter a flight and make it with several hours to spare. I will, of course, have to catch another flight as soon as the event's complete, but I'll be there." Edgeworth speaks to someone other than Sebastian, in a language that Sebastian can't understand, and then sighs. "I'm going to have to go, if I want to make this work, but I'll keep in touch. Don't worry. It's all going to work out."
"I'm not worried." Sebastian forces a smile, hoping that it will be heard in his voice. "And... thank you, Mr. Edgeworth."
"No need for thanks." A pause, awkward, filled with a thousand things Sebastian wants to say and doesn't quite dare to, and then Edgeworth is speaking again before he can. "I'll see you shortly, Sebastian. Pass the phone back to Gumshoe for a moment, please."
Sebastian does, staying seated on his bench while Gumshoe finishes the conversation.
He feels... strange. Numb, almost, but not quite, a tingling sensation in his hands and legs. He can breathe, though, and he hasn't broken down into full-out sobs. This is good. Perhaps he will be able to handle this after all.
Perhaps it isn't even that big a deal. He's well into his twenties now, after all. He has been surviving for over six years without his father. Will it really be so different, knowing that his father is dead instead of sitting behind bars, trying to plot a way out of the noose that Edgeworth slipped so expertly around his neck all those years ago?
Does it really matter if the man who donated a bit of DNA to him dies, when it is clear even from just the last few minutes who has been a true father figure to Sebastian? Blaize tried to arrange his death to be as disruptive and damaging as possible, for Sebastian and for those Sebastian cares about; Edgeworth is disrupting his own life, spending money for a special flight back from Europe, calling in favors to ensure that Sebastian's last memories of this whole terrible affair aren't of Blaize successfully manipulating him. Which of those is the more father like? Which is the man he should care about?
"Hey, pal." Gumshoe settles on the bench next to Sebastian, his phone stowed in his pocket again. His hand falls heavily on Sebastian's shoulder, his fingers squeezing gently. "I'm really sorry. This whole thing sucks."
Sebastian can't help but laugh, and he feels moisture leak out onto his cheeks and reaches up to swipe the tears away before they can truly gather. "Sometimes, detective, I truly love how you summarize situations."
"Sometimes that's all you can say. That something sucks, or it's awful, or you wish it wasn't the way it was." Gumshoe's hand pats gently at Sebastian's shoulder, his bulk a comforting presence that Sebastian allows himself to lean against for just a few moments. "All of 'em are true in this situation. Blaize DeBeste was a nasty man; you're a great kid, and I wish you didn't get stuck havin' to deal with your old man's... everything."
"I really appreciate that. I truly, deeply do." Sebastian straightens, wiping his cheeks again and smiling up at the detective, surprised to find that the expression comes easily. "And I suspect I'll be seeing you around, before this is all done. But I need to go do my job. My trial's not going to prepare itself for tomorrow, after all."
"No, I guess it won't." Standing, Gumshoe offers a hand to Sebastian and hauls him to his feet. "You do what you need to do. But if you need me, pal, at any time, you just call. Got it?"
"Got it." Picking up his bag, Sebastian smiles once more. "Thank you, Gumshoe. I really appreciate you coming to tell me."
"That's what friends're for." Gumshoe nods, as though he's just presented decisive evidence. "Need a ride anywhere? Anything I can help you with?"
"Not right now." Sebastian shakes his head. "I'll call you if I think of anything."
They go their separate ways, Sebastian towards his office, Gumshoe either to the precinct or to assist Edgeworth.
Sebastian tries hard to focus just on the trial, but he finds himself stopping and staring at blank walls far more than he would like to. Every time he catches himself doing that, he forces his attention back to the task at hand.
One more look through his file.
One more pass over the crime scene.
One more trip to the detention center.
One more note to forensics, and he has run out of things to do and only managed to pass three hours' worth of time.
He walks slowly as he returns to his office, mentally turning all the facts of the case over and over in his head, trying to ensure that he hasn't missed anything. If he fails tomorrow, he may be able to earn an extra day or even a complete retrial by claiming his father's pending execution made him unfit for duty. He doesn't want to have to go there, though.
He doesn't want his father to win, even for a day.
Kay and Klavier are both sitting outside his office. Sebastian supposes he should have expected it, in a way. They are the best friends he has—the best friends he has ever had, and the best friends he can imagine having. Kay was involved in the cases that resulted in his father's downfall; Klavier keeps a close enough ear to the ground with regards to office rumor that it's no surprise he knows.
They both scramble to their feet, though Kay is faster about it, throwing herself at Sebastian and wrapping her arms around his neck. It isn't a tight grip—his friends know better than to hold him so that he can't escape—and it loosens as soon as he tenses, Kay's eyes meeting his, obvious concern shining from them. "I heard about tomorrow. Are you all right?"
"I..." Sebastian considers his answer for a few seconds before shaking his head. "I don't know? Is that a vapid—valid—response?"
"Perfectly valid." Klavier's fingers brush against his, claiming Sebastian's bag, and Klavier's free hand claps very gently against Sebastian's shoulder. "Shall we talk in your office?"
"Yes." Disentangling himself from Kay's hold, Sebastian claims her right hand with his left, fishing his office key from his pocket with his free hand.
Nothing has changed in his office. Which it shouldn't have, not really—what does his father's impending execution have to do with anything else, really? Why should the news that his father is going to hang in somewhere between twenty and thirty-six hours cause his desk to become more neat, or his shelves filled with legal texts and old case files to magically dust themselves?
The light coming in through the window is a muted gray—a nice window, now, with a view out onto one of the few patches of green left in the city. It's the same light he was walking through when he went to the crime scene, when he went to the detention center, the stagnant, diffuse brightness of a sky that refuses to be clear but doesn't have nearly enough moisture to actually threaten rain. Should he find something symbolic in that, or is it reaching, applying meaning where there is none?
He has somehow come around to his usual spot, settled into his comfortable, well-worn desk chair without meaning to. Klavier perches on the left corner of his desk; Kay perches on the other, their stances almost comically similar as they watch him.
"I'm..." Sebastian pauses, frowning down at his desk. There are pictures on each of the far corners—on the right, one of himself, Kay, Gumshoe, and Prosecutor Edgeworth; on the left, one of himself and the Gavinners, Klavier with an arm around Sebastian's shoulders and a bright, effortless grin on his face. His friends, his coworkers, the people who have seen him through the last six years of his life, and Sebastian settles back more comfortably in his chair. "I'm... all right. And usually that's good, because he deserves what's coming to him." He has to believe that. He will not question that. "But sometimes... sometimes I feel like I should feel something else. Like... like I am betraying myself, somehow, by not being more upset."
"You don't owe him anything, Sebastian." Kay leans toward him, righteous fury simmering beneath her words. "He did awful things, to other people and also to you. So don't feel like you have to grieve, if you don't want to or don't feel like it."
"But also don't feel that you aren't allowed to." Klavier has grown his hair out, and he toys with the end of his braid as he speaks, his gaze somewhere in the middle distance between Sebastian and the floor. "He was an awful person. Justice is being done. But he was also your father. Whether you are fine or not, whether you need to grieve or not, we are here for you."
"I would happily tell you both what I need." Sebastian shrugs, and he is definitely not numb, because as he looks between his two friends his chest hurts with how much he loves them and appreciates what they are willing to do for him and accept from him. "But I'm afraid I'm not entirely certain."
"And that's all right, too." Kay hops off the desk, reaching down to take his left hand and squeeze it gently. "You take some time to figure it out. And if we can help you, at any time, with anything, just let us know."
"I know. It means the world to me." Sebastian smiles.
"That is because you're sweet." Klavier slides off the desk with a bit more grace and a bit less fierce energy than Kay, his hand coming to rest on Sebastian's right shoulder. "I see you have been working?"
Sebastian nods. "I have a trial tomorrow—part two of my trial today. I think it's going to go well, though."
Kay pokes a toe at Sebastian's work bag. "Want us to look through things?"
Sebastian hesitates before nodding. "If you wouldn't mind. The fewer surprises I have tomorrow, the happier I'll be."
"We would be happy to. But first..." Klavier looks pointedly at the clock. "Have you had lunch yet?"
"Ah..." Sebastian glances at the clock, too, surprised to see how far the hands have moved. "I knew I was forgetting something."
"Lunch at three-thirty is really more like an early supper, but it's better than the alternative." Sighing, Kay begins tugging on his hand until Sebastian clambers to his feet.
Sebastian can't help glancing at his bag, though, wondering if it's really all right for him to go...
Klavier's arm slides across his shoulders. "You will help no one passing out from low blood sugar."
Kay's arm goes around his waist. "Take a little break with us. We'll all go through your case file once we're done."
Nodding, Sebastian allows himself to be led forward. "Will you... tomorrow, do the two of you mind..."
"I'll definitely be there." Kay's voice is once more all grim fury.
"If you want me to be there, I will be, Herr Erste."
"I'd like that." Sebastian nods, not trusting himself to say more.
They stay with him for the rest of the afternoon. They don't talk more about what's to come tomorrow—what more is there to say? Instead they go to a little restaurant that Klavier likes, and Klavier and Kay argue over how to divide the bill until Sebastian solves the whole problem by slipping the waiter his credit card. When they get back to the office, Klavier disappears for a little over an hour, presumably to take care of his own pressing work; Kay stays with Sebastian, going over his case in intricate detail with him.
When Kay has to leave at six forty five, to babysit for a friend of Edgeworth's, Klavier is already back in Sebastian's office. He spends another hour helping Sebastian with paperwork and prep work, until there is nothing else Sebastian can think of to possibly distract himself with at work.
They don't go out to eat again, though Sebastian had half expected Klavier to suggest it. Instead they grab some take-out on the way to Sebastian's apartment, and they spend a few hours tinkering with songs, coming up with melody lines and descants for Klavier's new album.
It's just before midnight when Klavier packs up to leave. He does it slowly, watching Sebastian all the while, and Sebastian almost breaks down and asks him to stay.
He doesn't want to be that needy, though. He doesn't want to be that weak.
He doesn't want anyone to be around when he pulls out the tote of personal effects that he saved from Blaize DeBeste's room and goes through them, staring at photographs of himself and his father, running his hands over prizes that his father rigged for him and never cared about.
He doesn't want anyone else there when he cries, this time, and so he reassures Klavier again and again that he will be fine, and smiles for his friend even though the expression feels too fragile, and locks the door firmly behind him once Klavier is out in the hall.
He is in bed and sleeping before one, and his cheeks are dry when he wakes, and that's really all anyone could ask of him right now, given everything.
The trial goes smoothly, despite him having less sleep than would be ideal. Kay is in the audience, a young girl in a blue cape and top hat at her side. She cheers him on with vigor and zeal, and there is something comforting about her just being there.
After the trial, Klavier collects him and takes him to lunch, his tongue only stumbling a little bit over the word celebratory as he realizes exactly how it could be taken, given the events that are to transpire that evening.
Edgeworth meets them at Sebastian's office after lunch. Sebastian had both known it was coming and not expected it, and he finds himself freezing in place, the reality of what is to come suddenly feeling far too close.
"Gavin." Edgeworth's voice is cool and collected as he rises from one of the guest chairs. "Sebastian."
"Herr Edgeworth." Klavier automatically straightens, a hopeful glint appearing in his eyes again. Though Klavier has nothing but deep respect for Edgeworth, has researched and studied Edgeworth's career in depth, Edgeworth is wary of Klavier, and it shows in all their interactions. Sebastian has tried to do what he can to smooth over the awkwardness, has poked about at the Wright case that Edgeworth very clearly thinks was rigged in some way, and things are better now than they were when Edgeworth was first introduced to Klavier.
Better is not the friendship and mentorship that Klavier still hopes for, though, the relationship that he occasionally admits he is jealous of Sebastian for having earned, and Sebastian wishes there was more he could to put Edgeworth at ease. Whatever else Klavier may be, Sebastian is absolutely certain he's not part of the corruption that runs rampant still during this Dark Age of the Law.
"Edgeworth." Sebastian swallows, willing his voice not to crack. "Thank you. For..."
"It's not a problem." Edgeworth's body language softens, his shoulders relaxing as his gaze turns from Klavier to Sebastian. "There are some things we need to talk about still, though. Gavin, would you mind..."
"Not at all." If Klavier minds being dismissed, it doesn't show in his stance or his smile as he turns to Sebastian. "Kay and I will pick you up this evening."
"You mean Kay will pick both of us up." The ghost of a smile touches Sebastian's face. "Because you still only own that ridiculous motorcycle of yours."
"The hog is still the most beautiful piece of machinery you will ever see, but yes, Kay will be driving." Klavier's smile reaches his eyes, a small but subtle change that Sebastian has become very good at picking up on over the years. "If you need us before then..."
Klavier doesn't finish the statement. He doesn't need to. It's been said often enough before, and Sebastian waits for the click of his office door closing behind his friend before making his way to his desk chair and settling down.
Only once he's sitting does Sebastian realize how awkward and wrong it feels, Edgeworth standing in front of one of the visitor's chairs while Sebastian takes the place of authority behind the desk, and he immediately goes to stand again.
"Don't." Edgeworth holds up a hand, settling down into his chair and pulling it partway around the desk so they can face each other more evenly. A hint of darkness touches the skin beneath his eyes, the only sign that the last day has been tiring. "Congratulations on your victory this morning."
"Thank you." Sebastian can feel his cheeks heating, the praise settling like a pleasant liquid fire in his gut.
"There are some small details we need to discuss about tonight. The execution is scheduled for eight this evening. I'm sure you know that by now, though." Edgeworth's fingers drum once against the arm of his chair. "I'll be there as the state's witness; you won't have to do anything but attend. Assuming you want to attend, of course."
"Want is a strong word..." Sebastian gives a brief, mirthless laugh as he borrows Klavier's words from years ago. "He's my father, though. I want to see this through to the end."
"That I understand." A single tap of Edgeworth's index finger against his chair arm, and his eyes aren't quite meeting Sebastian's. "I suppose there's no easy way to ask this. Do you want to see him before the end? Do you want to have one final visitation?"
Ice seems to collect across all of Sebastian's skin, and for a moment he simply can't speak. There is no one else to step in, though, no one else to say the words he can't, so he forces his frozen tongue to move. "I h-haven't... I haven't been to see him since the sentencing."
He'd intended to go, at first. Once he thought he could trust himself to face his father without crying, he would go and show Blaize DeBeste that he wasn't afraid of him. He would look at his father in prison and realize exactly how powerless and wrong the man was. He would make sure his father knew that Sebastian was strong enough to make it on his own.
Day rolled into day, week crawled into week, and Sebastian eventually realized it didn't matter if his father ever acknowledged what he has become. He is a successful prosecutor. He has friends—he almost has family, of a sort, in the other people that have collected around Prosecutor Edgeworth. It isn't the type of thing that Blaize DeBeste would understand or appreciate, but it is what Sebastian needs and wants. What point, then, in going to see his father?
In the hopes that he would apologize? Sebastian doesn't know which would be worse, if Blaize did apologize to him or if Blaize continued to sneer at Sebastian as a traitor and a useless son.
In the hopes that his father would acknowledge the work Sebastian has done? It is far too easy to imagine his father instead scoffing that all Sebastian and his ilk have done is erode people's faith in the system, the Dark Age of the Law proof enough that nothing has changed, and Sebastian doesn't feel like having that philosophical argument with one of the men who is, unequivocally, responsible for the sorry mess that the legal system has become.
In the hopes that Sebastian could find some peace? His father is going to hang, and Sebastian helped ensure it, and there is no world Sebastian can imagine where Blaize will help him come to terms with that.
"You don't have to talk to him, Sebastian." Edgeworth speaks to his hands, his brows drawn together, a deep furrow between them. "I don't know exactly how much you've heard about my past..."
"I know about... um... the DL-6 case." Sebastian tries not to fidget. "About Manfred von Karma."
"Good." Edgeworth's frown doesn't change. "Then you know I've a little bit of personal experience with something... similar. It wasn't entirely the same, and Von Karma helped himself along before the hangman could catch up to him, but..."
"Did you go speak with him?" Sebastian bites his lip, keeping back any more specific questions. Let Edgeworth tell his story the way he needs to; if there is something else Sebastian needs to know when he's done, then he can ask.
"I did. Twice." Edgeworth swallows, a convulsive movement of his throat. "The first time was just days after his conviction. I wanted to understand why. He wasn't able to give me an explanation that I could accept. Even then, even so shortly after I broke free, I was too different from him. I couldn't see the world the way he could, and I am grateful for that every day."
Sebastian nods, the movement feeling jerky and uncoordinated. "The... second time?"
"Was before my disappearance. Shortly before his death." Edgeworth's lips twitch up into a faint, grim smile. "I asked the same questions from a different perspective; he offered the same answers, and they were even more horrific to me than the first time."
"So you would counsel me not to go?" There is a part of Sebastian that feels relief at the suggestion, but there are a thousand other disparate reactions, too—grief, anger, guilt, heavens, he thought he'd put guilt behind years ago—and they tie his stomach in knots.
"I would advocate that you do what you feel will be best for you. No more, no less." Edgeworth sighs, straightening and slipping a pair of spectacles from his front suit pocket to perch them on his nose. "Franziska saw Von Karma, as well. Shortly before his death. There were parts of talking to him that she appreciated, and parts that I think she will carry as thorns in her soul for the rest of her life. If you would like to speak with her about her experiences..."
Sebastian considers, and then shakes his head. "I suspect she would say about what you have, only with a bit more fool thrown in. Neither of you can make the decision for me, and I'm... not sure if there is a good or a bad decision to be had."
"There isn't." Edgeworth's shoulders rise in a faint, tired shrug. "Whatever you decide to do, there will be good things to come from it and bad."
"I think I would like to see him, at least once. Or... let him see me. Let him see what I've become." Sebastian draws a shuddering breath. "But I also think... as you said yesterday, he tried to make his death as disruptive as possible for everyone he could. And I would prefer not to be alone with him, if that's the kind of mood he's in."
"He won't be able to hurt you, Sebastian." Edgeworth's voice falls to a lower, growling register. "I'll make sure he's restrained."
"Most of the hurts we've all suffered haven't been physical ones. I like to think, after all these years, my father won't know how to hurt me anymore." Sebastian tries to smile, though it slips after only a few seconds. "I somehow suspect he'll still be able to, though."
"You don't have to go to any of this, if you don't want to." Edgeworth pushes his glasses up, peers at Sebastian with his calm silver eyes. "You can just go about your life, and let this end as we've all known it has to end."
"I could. But that... doesn't feel right." Sebastian stares down at his white-gloved hands. "Nothing about this really feels right, but I think... if it's going to happen, I need to see it. I need to be there. Do you know who else... who's going to be there too?"
"Not many people." Edgeworth raises one hand and begins ticking off fingers. "Yourself. Myself. Kay. Agent Lang, if he can make the flight."
"Klavier." Sebastian's voice is quiet as he makes the addition.
"And Mr. Gavin, if you want him to be." Edgeworth nods, his tone carefully neutral.
"I want him to be there." Sebastian doesn't know when his arms wrapped around his chest, or when he started shivering, but he can't seem to make either stop. "I want both him and Kay there."
"I see no reason he should be barred from attending, and Kay is one of the people injured by your father. She would be going even if you weren't, I think." Edgeworth's hand has fallen to his lap, and a look of deep contemplation etches itself into his face. When he speaks, though, it's not what Sebastian had expected—not a question or a concern about Kay, and her need to see the man who attempted to use and manipulate her while she was hurt hang. Perhaps Edgeworth can understand those emotions all too well, given the executions he has attended in the past. "Gavin has been a good friend to you, hasn't he?"
Sebastian nods.
"I'm glad. We can all use good friends in our lives." Edgeworth meets Sebastian's gaze evenly. "Do you know what you'd like, or do you want to think about it for a few hours?"
"That's everyone who's coming?" Sebastian stares down at the five fingers of his right hand. His father's whole life, and the only people who will go to see his death can be counted on one hand, and none of them actual mourners...
"Your father's fall burned a lot of his bridges. Very few want to be seen as involved or complicit with him. A bit of fiddling with timing and paperwork, that they could give him, but actually attending his death..." Edgeworth's smile is small and grim. "Either that or they've gone before him."
"Could we..." Sebastian bites down on his bottom lip for a moment. "I know it would be irregular, but could I talk to him just before the execution? While everyone's there?"
Edgeworth considers the request for a few seconds before nodding. "Let me see what I can do. It doesn't seem unreasonable to me, though."
"That's what I'd like, then." Sebastian forces his arms to unwrap. "If I can't have that, I'd like to see him with Klavier and Kay present. Not alone."
"I'll see that it happens, one way or the other." Edgeworth stands, takes a step forward to place a hand on Sebastian's shoulder. "Take care of yourself today, and I'll see you this evening."
Sebastian murmurs out something that is probably a goodbye, and watches Edgeworth walk to the door with stinging eyes.
Squeezing his eyes shut, putting his head down on his desk, Sebastian forces himself to draw slow, even breaths. He has cried enough for his father already—too much, really, considering the man that his father was. He has no doubt that he is going to cry again before the day is out, but he doesn't want to spend the whole afternoon doing it. There are other things he can do—useful things he can do. There is still paperwork that needs to be done to finalize the trial this morning. There is a stack of sheet music from Klavier for him to decipher and see what he can make of. There are many, many more things he can do with himself than cry, at least for the moment.
It was the nicest thing his father ever did for him, probably—showing that it was all right for anyone to cry, even powerful men. Never mind that his father's were frequently crocodile tears, one societal expectation Sebastian has never completely internalized is that tears are only for the weak. Living—really living, with friends and joy and affection—is the best negation Sebastian can think of to his father's plans and general views, though, and that is what Sebastian wants to do.
He hasn't been given any new cases. Because there aren't any? Because everyone knows that his father will hang tonight? Quite possibly just because he hasn't finished his paperwork, but when he pulls it out, he finds that words want to tangle and twist on him in a way they haven't done for years.
Very well, then. He knows where to go.
Fishing his phone and some of the music from his desk, Sebastian heads up to Klavier's office.
Klavier is on the phone, but he smiles at Sebastian, gesturing for Sebastian to take up residence by the window. It is an absolutely gorgeous view, and Sebastian would be jealous if he didn't get to spend so much time here anyway.
Closing the door behind him, Sebastian takes one of Klavier's guitars down off its perch and settles with it in front of the window. The instrument is beautifully tuned, as usual, and before a minute is up Sebastian is lost in a different world, trying to line up percussion lines and chord progressions in a way that is both natural and new.
"Sebastian." Klavier stays seated at his desk, his phone held loose in one hand. "There are a few more calls I have to make, about the Yule Lough case. Do you mind?"
Sebastian shakes his head, his face flushing hot. "This is your office. Do you want me to—"
Klavier is shaking his head as soon as Sebastian starts the question. "I want you to stay here, if this is where you want to be. I just wanted to make sure you don't need to talk right away."
"No." Sebastian smiles. "Do what you need to do."
Klavier spends most of the next hour in a series of phone calls; Sebastian spends it tinkering with rhythms and Klavier's guitar. He gets distracted from the song he was supposed to be helping Klavier with by a chord progression of his own, and when eventually Klavier settles next to him, Sebastian has the bare bones of a completely new song jotted down.
"Mind if I look?" Klavier waits for Sebastian's nod before turning the paper toward himself. Then he turns the paper a bit more towards Sebastian, and then almost sixty degrees toward himself, frowning at it. "And you tell me I am terrible about how I write down my ideas. Would you care to give me a demonstration, mein Freund?"
"You are terrible about writing down your ideas. For someone who's so ridiculously perfectionist about the finished products, you sometimes have a very messy brainstorming style." Sebastian reclaims his notes, his face heating again. "And of course I don't mind. It's still a mess, though, so... well... here it is."
Klavier listens attentively, closing his eyes and keeping a steady rhythm with one finger tapping against the carpet until Sebastian lets the music stagger to a halt. When he meets Sebastian's eyes, he grins. "I like it. A lot."
"It still needs a lot of work." Sebastian smiles.
"Of course it does. You're just getting started. But I think you've got something good percolating here. Quieter than I usually go, a little haunting, but with some work..." Klavier's hand settles gently on Sebastian's shoulder. "This will be fantastic."
Like you, Klavier's eyes seem to say, his honest enthusiasm and clear pleasure in Sebastian's company saying without words what Sebastian needs to hear, and Sebastian has to close his eyes for a moment before he can continue speaking.
Klavier doesn't seem to mind, picking up his guitar and fiddling with some of the chords, humming low in his throat as he does.
Sebastian spends the rest of the afternoon in Klavier's office, working on his song. Klavier alternates between talking music with him and running about on errands for various cases, but he makes it clear that he's glad to have Sebastian in the background, if that's where Sebastian wants to be.
Kay picks them up just after six, idling her car in a semi-legal spot while they pack up and hurry down the stairs. Edgeworth had sent a text saying they should arrive at the detention center no later than seven fifteen, so that gives them plenty of time to get something to eat and clear security.
There is a strange sense of deja vu as they make their way across the dark parking lot. Klavier and Kay each hold one of his hands as they walk, Klavier shortening his strides to more evenly match Sebastian and Kay's. Once they are in the building, though, Klavier walks ahead, as he did last time, flashing his badge and announcing all of them and their destination.
Sebastian once more removes his badge from his jacket, giving it to the guard so that the identification number can be checked and recorded; Kay hands over her driver's license to be photocopied.
"Everything looks to be in order, then." The guard's eyes are sympathetic as he looks up at Sebastian. "Down the hall, first corridor on your right. Officer Andwaite will explain everything to you when you're there."
"Danke." Klavier smiles at the man, taking Sebastian's hand in a firm grip and leading him forward.
Would it be better, if Sebastian had come to more of the executions that he has been invited to? Would it be different, if there was more than one memory for him to compare this with? Would it be better if he had never come to another execution, if this was the first time?
He doesn't think that last one is true, at least. He would not want the trembling terror of the unknown overlaying all the other emotions involved in this walk.
"It'll be all right." Kay's voice is a quiet whisper, but her fingers are tight around his, her eyes all steel determination as she stares ahead. "We're right here, Sebastian. Everything will be fine."
"I'll be fine." Sebastian nods, promising the only thing that he can.
The officer standing in front of the witness' room checks them off on his clipboard, scowling slightly as he does. "There's been a slight change in the proceedings for the execution today. The convicted will be brought down approximately ten minutes prior to the execution time—in five minutes—and will be given a chance to speak with the witnesses. After that, everything will proceed as usual. The convicted will be walked to the gallows, and be hanged by the neck until dead. At that point the state's witness will confer with the medical examiner that death has taken place, and the witnesses will be free to go. Any questions?"
Kay and Klavier both glance at him, and Sebastian tries to remember how his tongue is supposed to work, how words are supposed to feel as they are formed.
Kay's voice fills the silence, her fingers noose-tight around his. "No, thank you. We all understand what's going to happen."
Klavier leads them into the room, still with Sebastian's hand in his. The room seems much larger than the last time Sebastian was here. That makes sense, though. There are far fewer people here—only Prosecutor Edgeworth and Agent Lang, sitting side by side in the small row of five chairs set before the window. Edgeworth is sitting very primly, his arms crossed in front of his chest, looking far too classy for the well-cushioned but decidedly plastic chairs.
Lang is lounging across two chairs, his feet crossed at the ankles. The Interpol agent hasn't changed out of his work clothes. Sebastian sometimes wonders if Lang actually owns anything other than his black pants and his shirt that leaves little to the imagination.
"Sebastian!" Lang's head rises as soon as they walk in the room, his expression reminding Sebastian strongly of a wolf suddenly catching a scent. Lunging to his feet, Lang closes the distance between them in a few quick strides, coming to a halt in front of Sebastian. "I've been hearing a lot about you, pup."
"Only good things, I home—hope?" Sebastian tries to clear his throat, hoping his voice will sound less sad and lost if he does.
"Not just good things. Great things. I hear you're making quite the name for yourself. Not the kind of name your father or Von Karma had, but a good name. A just man who won't stop until he finds the truth. Lang Zhi says it takes a strong pup to outgrow the shadow of its forebears, but you've done that." Lang's right hand reaches out, his fist rapping gently against Sebastian's left shoulder. "You've become a strong hunter in your own right, and I'm proud of you."
Sebastian can feel his breath stuttering in his throat, and he opens and then closes his mouth, not sure what to say. He has met Lang several times since their first eventful encounters—the Interpol agent always seems to make it his business to involve Edgeworth in any cases within a four hundred mile radius of the city, and that usually means involving Gumshoe and Sebastian and a handful of others. To hear that Lang is proud of him, though—to hear that Lang has been following Sebastian's career even when not near—
"What about me, wolf-man?" Kay grins up at Lang, her free hand perched on her hip, though she hasn't let go of Sebastian's hand.
"What about you?" Lang crosses his arms, studying Kay up and down. "You were already a fierce fighter when I met you, Kay. It shouldn't surprise anyone that you've grown into an even better one. How's the private investigator business treating you?"
"Good. I think I'm making a real difference." Kay swings their linked hands. "Though these two do a little bit, too, I guess."
Lang laughs, his usual full-throated, energetic sound.
It seems to echo strangely in the confines of the witness' room, and Sebastian finds himself swaying, a strange feeling of disconnection making it hard to keep his balance.
Lang's hand lands on his shoulder; Klavier and Kay both press a little closer, and Sebastian can feel his face heating. Silly. He and Klavier laughed when they were on their way to their first execution. Sebastian doesn't even like his father—is not sure he ever liked his father. Loved, yes, oh yes, and revered, but Blaize DeBeste was not a man his son could like, so why should it matter what is happening now?
Edgeworth is standing by the row of chairs, a pocket watch open in his hand despite there being a perfectly good clock mounted on the wall. "We should take our seats, I think. I was thinking of putting Kay in the center, with you next to her and Klavier on the end. I will sit on Kay's other side, with Agent Lang next to me. Is that acceptable?"
"That's... that's good." Sebastian forces his feet to move again, to carry him closer to the chairs.
The hand that Klavier is holding ends up being pulled up short, and Sebastian turns a quizzical gaze on his friend. Klavier's eyes are wide, his gaze fixed on Edgeworth with something that looks suspiciously like hope and excitement, but he blinks and turns a sheepish smile on Sebastian as the three of them take their seats.
Why did... oh. Glancing surreptitiously down at Edgeworth, Sebastian suppresses a smile of his own. Has he ever heard Edgeworth call Klavier anything other than Gavin, at least in front of Klavier? Not that he can remember, and if Blaize DeBeste's death can at least start peppering—papering—over this rift in the prosecutor's office—
The door to the execution chamber swings open, and Blaize DeBeste is led in, his arms shackled together behind his back. Because they don't trust him? Because he has tried to do something? Because he has threatened to do something? Sebastian can feel his stomach clench into a tight knot at the visual proof that his father is making this as difficult as possible still.
The door between the execution chamber and the witness' room doesn't squeak, the hinges apparently meticulously cared for. There is just a puff of cold air, and the guard leads Blaize DeBeste into the room.
There is no familiar smell, no rolling wave of oil and hint of smoke that Sebastian still expects, even after all this time. Just the cold of the execution chamber's air conditioning, and the scent of the guard's cologne, something with a minty overtone that Sebastian knows his father would never wear.
He looks older than he had the last time Sebastian saw him. Sebastian supposes that was inevitable—Sebastian himself has changed, has aged into a slightly harder jaw line, a bit more muscle, though his body retains more of the grace that Klavier's has than it shows shades of Blaize's firm masculinity. Blaize's hair has been cut recently, though he has not been provided with a beard, the scars on his lower face standing out starkly against skin that has become much paler than Sebastian remembers it being.
"Boy." Blaize smiles, and it is an expression Sebastian remembers in his bones, a promise of pain and retribution to come. "Finally got up the nerve to see me, I take it, but only if you've got a posse at your back? Or did one of them goad you into it?"
"No, Father." Sebastian straightens in his seat, studying the gray-haired figure with his father's eyes but who is... missing something. Is it the manacles? The paleness? The loss of his chosen clothing and features? Though Sebastian knows this is his father, knows that voice and will undoubtedly still hear it in his dreams until he dies, there is something sad and underwhelming about the man before him. "I wanted to see you, but I also wanted my friends at my side."
"Friends." Blaize smiles, but it is more a sneer of utter disdain. "Don't count on friends, Sebastian. One misstep, and any friends you thought you had will disappear. If I can only manage to teach you one thing, idiot boy, let it be that."
"I think you would teach me that, if you could." Sebastian disentangles his hands from Klavier and Kay, levering himself slowly to his feet so that he can face his father more evenly. "I think, if you could destroy just one thing for me, it would be my faith in people. Because you never had it. You never had faith in anyone but yourself—certainly not in me. And the idea that I'm succeeding by following a path you disdained, by searching for truth and justice and having actual friends, not lackeys and blackmail victims and accomplices... that infuriates you, doesn't it?"
Blaize laughs, a short, rough bark that seems without mirth. "The only thing infuriating about you, idiot boy, is your stubborn refusal to see the truth. They will betray you. They will fail you. Just like you've failed me."
"Which isn't nearly as badly as you've failed me." Sebastian doesn't back down, though he does flinch, just a little bit, as he hears his father's fingers rubbing together in a familiar threat. "You were supposed to be the best of the best. You were supposed to be someone I could depend on and look up to."
"Everything you had you got from me, idiot boy." Blaize smiles again, condescending, arrogant. "Every class you passed, every award you won, every victory you ever tasted was because I bought it for you."
"No." Klavier speaks quietly, but his eyes are the dark hard blue of an ocean storm, his accent thick and strong. "What you bought was a lie—a pretty cage that you tried to build for your son. Family should help you to grow, to learn, to become better, but all you ever cared about was yourself. So instead of recognizing the talent in your son, you stifled it; instead of helping him become a better man, you made him a pawn and a plaything and then tried to hold what you crafted against him."
"Sebastian's been a better prosecutor—done more for the world as a prosecutor—in six years than you did in forty. And you can't stand it." Kay's smile is barbed and pointed. "You can't stand the fact that he's better than you."
"Because he's not. Because I know what he really is." Blaize's tone is conciliatory, almost gentle as he leans toward Sebastian. "I know that you're still the little boy who can't even talk in complete sentences. Why else would you be hiding behind a musician and a thief, waiting for them to save you from the man you arranged to see murdered?"
"I didn't arrange for this. You wove the noose; you get to wear it." Stepping forward, his heart in his throat, Sebastian invades his father's personal space, as Blaize did to him too many times to count during his childhood. He can't hurt me. Sebastian keeps the silent mantra playing in rhythm with his heartbeat. He can't hurt me. "And they're more than just a musician and a thief. Klavier's an amazing prosecutor; Kay's developing quite the reputation as a private investigator. Because people can be multiple things."
"They're a crutch that you're hiding behind." Blaize's eyes seem to burn with fury, but it is impotent, Sebastian realizes. "A tool that you're using."
"They're my friends. They're defending me because they care about me. But you wouldn't understand that, would you, father?" Sebastian sweeps his arm out in an arc, taking in the handful of people in the witness' room. "Because you've never had friends. Just tools and an idiot son, and this is the harvest you've reaped from that."
For a moment his father is speechless—with fury rather than acquiescence, Sebastian thinks. The guard takes Blaize's elbow in a firm grip, steering him toward the door.
"I'm going to die, Sebastian." The fury doesn't fade from Blaize's eyes, but tears well up in front of it, a shimmering sheen that almost immediately begins to trickle down the old man's face. "You're holding a traitorous viper at your side—two of them, really. I know the Gavins and the Faradays, and no get of theirs can be trusted. Just listen to me—care about what you've done, and what's going to happen."
"I do, Father." Sebastian can feel tears welling up in his own eyes, and he doesn't try to stop them, this time. "I care more than I should, and less than I should. I care more than I think you even know how to. But I'm not enough of an idiot son to let you destroy what I've built in one last petty act of revenge."
"Sebastian—" Blaize's tears fade, and he pulls against the guard, trying to stay in the room.
"I loved you, Father." He still loves his father, in some ways—or loves what his father could have been, should have been, though he knows that the man before him was never the paragon he looked up to and wanted to emulate. "I wish you had been worthy of it, and I'm sorry that this is the way it ends. Find peace, if you can."
There is no peace to be had for the next four minutes. Blaize fights, tooth and nail. It isn't something Sebastian had been prepared for. Broil had gone quietly to his death, trying to maintain a sense of dignity. Blaize DeBeste has never followed the standard rules of proper behavior, though, and he refuses to go quietly to his demise.
Or at least to go patiently. Once he is in the execution chamber, the door between the two rooms locked, there is no sound to be heard. Sebastian can imagine what he's saying, the pleas and the curses and the cries of defiance—he can hear it crystal-clear, but he knows that the sounds are only in his head.
Klavier has an arm around his shoulders, has guided him back down into his seat; Kay's arm is around his waist, her head resting on his shoulder. Someone is patting his back; someone has their hand on his head, but Sebastian can't bring himself to look away from the spectacle his father is making for long enough to see which is Edgeworth and which Lang.
He misses the moment his father drops. He is crying too hard by then, six years of emotion attempting to escape in six minute's time. His vision becomes a series of snapshots between tears: his father attempting to kick one of the guards in the face. His father with the noose being secured around his neck. His father standing on tip-toe, the noose raised high enough to keep him from running from the proper location.
His father dangling, eyes already going dark as his body spasms, and Sebastian wonders what the last thing he saw was. Did he see Sebastian, though the glass? Did he see what Sebastian has chosen to be, and did it hurt him?
Does Sebastian want it to have hurt him?
He breaks down completely after that, sobs that seem to shake his body to the core. He doesn't notice Edgeworth leave. He doesn't see the medical examiner with his father's body. His face is flushed but he feels too cold, shivers running up and down his body.
Klavier is singing, a soft, stumbling tumble of lyrics in German. Kay doesn't bother trying lyrics, but she adds in a descant that sends chills of a different sort up and down Sebastian's spine.
No one tells him to stop crying. No one tells him he's being foolish, or stupid, or over-reacting. They could—he knows that, has seen other people harangued at funerals for failing to meet expectations of proper grief—but they don't, and Sebastian cries harder for a few seconds, loving these people far too much.
Eventually tears have to stop, though. Eventually he doesn't see his father's eyes staring from the darkened execution room, accusing and angry, and Sebastian is able to sit up, gathering the tattered remnants of his dignity around himself.
"You did good, DeBeste." Lang's hand once more pats against Sebastian's back. "It's a messy, complicated business when it's someone you care about—or did care about—but you did good."
"It will get easier." Edgeworth comes to stand in front of Sebastian, blocking his view of the execution room. "Maybe not right away, but it is over now, unequivocally, and it will get easier."
Edgeworth knows. Edgeworth has stood at the grave of the man who raised him; he has attended the execution of a trusted man who used him, watched Damon Gant hang; he has been through so much, and he has still made himself a brilliant, important, good man, and he is standing here for Sebastian.
"It... will get easier." Sebastian accepts the handkerchief that Edgeworth offers him, mopping at his face. "I... thank you. All of you. For being here."
"Whatever we can do to help." Klavier tightens his arm around Sebastian's shoulders.
"Nowhere else I'd rather be." Kay lifts her head, pressing a brief kiss to Sebastian's temple.
Dragging himself to his feet, feeling tired and strangely... stretched, as though his limbs are made of half-cooked pasta, Sebastian starts the mass exodus toward the door. Andwaite checks them off as they leave, before heading back into the room, presumably to put away the five chairs.
"I'll have to be catching another flight in a few hours." Lang speaks when they're in the prison entryway, his hands in his pockets. "Wish I could stay for longer, though. It's good to see you kids again."
"Good to see you again, too." Kay smiles at the Interpol agent.
"And any time you guys need anything... well, you pups know how to contact me." A brief salute, a flash of teeth, and Lang is gone, disappearing out into the darkness.
"I should also be going." Edgeworth slides his glasses on again. "Not that I wish to, but—"
"But you've got work to do." Sebastian nods, his voice sounding just slightly hoarse. "I appreciate you being here, more than I could ever say."
"But we all know how you work." Kay punches Edgeworth lightly in the arm. "So go chase down your flight. We'll hold up Sebastian and hold down the fort until you get back."
"I've very little doubt of that." Edgeworth smiles, and it is his honestly pleased smile, the one that he uses far too infrequently. "Take care of yourselves, all of you. And do call, Sebastian, even if it's as simple as needing to talk or needing suggestions on people it's safe to talk to."
"I will." Sebastian nods, his hands twisting together in front of him, rocking forward on his feet but refusing to let them move.
Edgeworth studies him, pale eyes flicking up and down Sebastian's body. Then he sighs, steps forward, and pulls Sebastian into the briefest, tightest hug of his life.
"Remember." Pushing his glasses up on his nose, Edgeworth glowers between the three of them. "Call, any of you, if you need me. Auf Wiedersehen, meine Krieger."
Sebastian doesn't understand half of the German, but from the way Klavier is glowing as Edgeworth walks away, he assumes it's a compliment.
Klavier's smile fades, though, his expression shifting to open, honest concern as he studies Sebastian. His hand very gently claims Sebastian's, his fingers ghosting over Sebastian's for a second before latching on. "What would you like to do, Sebastian?"
Sebastian laughs, the sound rough and unnatural in the silence of the prison's parking lot. "What I want is to go back in time and somehow stop all this from being the culmination of my life."
"It's not." Kay's hand claims his free one, her fingers more determined than Klavier's. "Your life is much, much more than this."
"I know." Sebastian nods, though the motion is jerky and uncoordinated. "There's a lot I wouldn't trade for the world, and I think... I think it's been worth all the rest. So since breaking the time-stream is off the table... would the two of you mind coming home with me, having wine and ice cream and... I don't know, playing music or something?"
"Anything you want." Klavier's fingers tighten.
"There's nowhere else we'd rather be." Freeing her hand, Kay once more slips her arm around his waist.
Klavier's arm comes to rest around Sebastian's shoulders again, and they walk like that towards Kay's car, an island of life and warmth walking through the darkness.
It is not the last time Sebastian will count on them to get him through the hardest part of a lyricless lament, but with the precedent they set that evening, Sebastian has no doubt they can make it through anything.