[a/n: post AA5 so spoilers, duh. MA for other chapters- this one's pretty clean. I own nothing related to the Ace Attorney franchise so…]
[scene four: interlude (6:24 AM)
True to his assertion, Simon was unable to rest. He tried dozing on the chair until around five in the morning, when he decided he'd had enough of being unproductive. Every time he closed his eyes, just as he predicted, images from the past ten years would assail him.
It was oddly unsettling to open his eyes to an unfamiliar ceiling.
He rummaged around the cluttered house until he found a laptop under a pile of paperwork on the (what he guessed to be) dining-room table. He brought it back across the room to the living room so he could continue to half-way observe the two unconscious men. He guessed the password on the fourth try. Simon made a mental note to inform the Wright household about the importance of password security.
Watching people sleep could be humorous in the moment, but it was much more satisfying to hold that information over his victims. People did not even need to do anything odd while they were sleeping, nor did he have to tell them what he had seen—universally people became uncomfortable when they found out someone was watching. These two had provided enough embarrassing material for him to make them twitchy around him for at least a year. Klavier made funny snorting sounds and twitched a lot. Apollo talked in his sleep. Most of what he said was nonsensical, but the commentary ran almost nonstop. Somehow Simon was not surprised. He was, however, irrationally angry for a spell when Apollo moaned out Athena's name.
It was none of his business. They were two young adults who worked together, it was only logical that their relationship extended elsewhere. Even if he was small and annoyingly flimsy and not to mention foolish and with a ridiculous appearance; he seemed to be a nice enough fellow. At least he was definitely not a "bad boy" dangerously mysterious type. They were around the same age, shared similar interests…he had not been to prison and seemed to be an optimist…no exotic pets or bad attitudes…colorful, social, pliable, yielding, cowardly—no maybe not…Yes they just had to be involved somehow. She seemed happy enough around him anyway.
Or maybe she was just another name; Apollo mumbled quite a few, after all. No that was not hope that he was feeling—just more side-effects of sleep-depravation.
Just as Apollo had not been back to his apartment after the bombings at the space station, Simon had not slept since then either. The night of the event he had dozed off for a few hours; but ever since the courtroom bombing, nightmares kept waking him up until he decided to forego sleep all together. Last night he had paced away in his cell, too angry to even sit down. Somewhere in a much similar cell somewhere in the same building she was here. And he would die the day after tomorrow. And she would have to live with the guilt of not being able to save him. But that was just the way things were going to happen. She did not deserve to be here, though, in these last few days where she could continue to work and hope for his release. Instead that boy had put her here and now she was probably feeling guilty about being upset over her own situation when he, himself, had suffered for so long for her sake. And having to face the possibility that she killed her own mother, alone, here of all places. Despair was so easy here. The concrete walls amplified all the darkest thoughts until they were all-encompassing. Even the most positive minds succumbed. Things were easily broken here.
No matter how hard he tried, his thoughts kept returning to his time in the clink. It was very frustrating. He was trying so hard to feel happy, but all that seemed to be there was emptiness.
He felt a LOT better when, at one point, Apollo stood up, staggered over to the couch, and somehow squished onto the couch with his rival.
If he only had a cell phone to record this precious moment for posterity.
He searched the internet for awhile, mostly for apartments.
The sun had barely begun to rise when Simon heard a knock on the door. He looked around to confirm that no one else noticed, then waited until a second, more persistent knock stirred him into action. He moved to the door and looked out the peephole but it was too dark to see the face. The figure looked relatively smaller, though, so Simon went ahead and opened the door as the mystery person raised their hand for a third knock.
"Wright household- how may I be of service?"
The figure jumped back, startled by what opened the door. "Blackquill?! What in the blazes are you doing here? Don't tell me your sister's been living with Wright this whole time!"
"No, Edgeworth-dono," Simon smirked, ushering his superior inside. "Nothing like that."
The other re-adjusted his glasses on his face, preparing to repeat his question when he was startled for a second time that morning.
"Wha-…Why- is that?!" He marched over to the couch where the two had become entangled together, still completely unconscious.
"Yes that is Gavin-dono and Justice-dono."
Edgeworth made a noise Simon had never heard him make before, it reminded him of the sound Taka made when he was about to vomit. His expression looked about the same too. The Chief Prosecutor shook it off, turning away from the whole scene.
"Right. Where is Wright. It's 6:30. Why is everyone still sleeping?"
"Most unproductive lot, sir, I must agree with you, there."
Miles sighed. People with a good work ethic were so hard to find. He walked over to the dining area (directly opposite the living area only slightly smaller.) Moving an assortment of random objects off the chair, he sat down, then pushed stuff over to the side of the table out of his way. Next he took out a stack of files, a newspaper, a tea cup and saucer packed safely in a box, and a large thermos.
"Tea? I made plenty. Although not enough, I fear, for what seems to be a slumber party."
"No, thank you."
"Wright probably has coffee as well, although good luck finding anything in that disorganized kitchen."
Simon was unsure of what to say, and even less of what to do. If yesterday had not happened, right now he would be four hours away from being executed. Only yesterday did happen; so he was standing in a rival's house in front of his superior listening to the sounds of two other acquaintances drift across the space. What an odd world it was.
And only about to get odder.
"Do me a favor and fetch Wright, please, since you've taken it upon yourself to be his doorman."
Simon blinked, looking off down the hallway Wright went down the night before. He could not think of a single response to such a request.
"Go on, he won't bite you." Miles said, sipping his tea and opening the morning paper.
Simon narrowed his eyes and stalked away. The nerve of that man. If only he did not owe him anything, if only. He turned and realized something he should have thought about hours earlier. There were several doors down this hallway…which one opened to Phoenix…and which one had the two small Wrights…The opposite side of the hallway had two doors as well…one must be the guest room, the other a closet, perhaps…girl's door or man's door, girl's door or man's door…The first door he tried had neither, it was the bathroom. Simon growled in frustration. If there was one convenient thing about prison, it was that it was damn obvious which room was where and who was in it. But he could not simply turn around and ask his superior which door Wright lived behind.
He inched open door two. A night light was on. He closed the door again, deducing it was the girl's room. Two steps towards the last door, Simon stopped. What if his base assumption was wrong? This was the kind of mistake that kept leading him to being confident about the guilt of the defendants in the past few cases. He had no proof that Wright did not sleep with a nightlight.
Sighing, he returned to the first door and inched it open, this time waiting until his eyes adjusted to actually see anything. A large Gaviners poster…not decisive…giant stuffed elephant…not decisive…a vanity with star motifs…not decisive…bunk beds…closer, but not decisive…He was finally satisfied when he spied the small Wright-associate's characteristic pretzel-looking hair sticking out of a sleeping bag on the floor. Definitely the girl's room.
He closed the door and started walking towards what he now knew was Phoenix's room. He asked himself why she was sleeping on the floor when there were bunk beds, but decided that this was unimportant. He opened the door all the way and stepped into the first really personal space he had been inside in years.
The light from the hallway revealed a bed with a familiar hair spikes protruding from the covers. Simon growled in frustration once again. The door was supposed to squeak or something. Or the light disturb the man's slumber. He should not have been able to walk to stand next to the sleeping man; clearly the lawyer did not value his personal safety. Simon could slit his throat right now and he would be oblivious! How careless!
He cleared his throat.
No response.
He tried again, only louder.
Nothing.
"Mr. Wright?" Simon tried.
Silence.
"Mr. Wright?" This time he implemented a tap on the shoulder.
Still unresponsive.
"Mr. Wright?"
A shadow in the doorway made Simon spin around in a flash, fists up ready to pummel faces. It was Edgeworth, still sipping tea.
"No that will never do." He turned on the lights and stepped into the room, glancing about the space. "One must take a firmer approach."
Miles handed his drink to Simon and approached the bed, rolling up his sleeves.
"Observe. UP!" Edgeworth's hand shot out, latching onto Phoenix's exposed ear, and his arm jerked upwards, tugging the attorney's head with it. With his free hand the prosecutor cruelly jerked off the covers with a single flick of the wrist.
Simon did not know that the chief prosecutor could be that brutal. What if the man had been having a nice dream?
Phoenix awoke with a howl of protest, flailing his arms about at his unseen attacker yet somehow missing Edgeworth completely.
"Ah, there you are Wright. Good morning."
The poor attorney had collapsed into a fetal position, cradling his ear and cursing under his breath.
"What was that, Wright? Was there an insult you wished to direct at me? Don't be such a sourpuss! One must greet each day in a more positive manner, don't you think Mr. Blackquill?"
Simon was too busy gaping to answer.
"See, Wright? There you have it. Time to get up, it's almost seven."
The threatening look Phoenix shot at his "friend" was almost fierce enough to impress Simon.
"Oh don't look at me like that, you ninny, stop being so lazy. Come, we have things to discuss."
Edgeworth pivoted around and left the room with a flick of his suit jacket. He did not even break his stride when he retrieved his tea from his subordinate, offering a short, "Thank you," before he was gone.
Simon turned back around when he heard a whimper.
"Why does he have to be like that?"
This was too pitiful for Simon to witness. There were just some things mere acquaintances should not be forced into seeing, and such a pathetic face was at the top of the list. Before Wright could say anything else, Simon retreated back to the table. Edgeworth was once again sipping and reading, pretending as if he had not just completely broken a man. Simon was impressed.
Shortly after, a very grumpy looking Phoenix shuffles into the room and plops down in a seat without bothering to move things off the chair. His eyes have dark circles under them, his hair is all over the place, there's stubble on his chin, and he's slouching so much he is bent almost completely in half. All of these things are hard for Simon to take in, but the final straw is the man's sleepwear. He's wearing matching pink pajama pants and shirt with a fluffy bunny print on them. Some of them have cartoonized carrots, one set is smooching, another is halfway concealed in a magic top hat, but most of them seem to just be making funny faces. Simon finds himself unable to stop staring.
Edgeworth does not even look up from his paper. He ignores all the groaning and complaints unleashed from the host. The barrage of questions also seem to reflect off the print since Edgeworth makes no move to answer them. Phoenix starts to become irritated. His inquiries and complaints rise in volume, his tone intensifies, his hands start to twitch like he's about to slam the table. Just as he raises his hand to strike, their silent companion speaks.
"If you're wondering about the pajamas they were a father's day present, apparently. And yes he wears them all seasons of the year no matter the temperature."
Simon starts, breaking his stare down with the offensive clothes, head snapping to another direction. Phoenix, hand held in midair, pauses in confusion before he remembers the presence of a third party. He grunts in annoyance, blushing, then brings his hand down. Right into Edgeworth's paper, irreversibly crinkling it.
"Well I never! That was uncalled for Wright! Now it will never fold properly again!"
Scowling Phoenix snatches up a portion of the paper and crushes it into a ball. Edgeworth cries out in dismay, hastily putting the sections he has saved inside his coat. Unfazed, Phoenix begins a struggle to retrieve the hidden pages; Edgeworth fights back with vigor. Simon wonders if he is experiencing an out-of-body experience. These were supposedly two of the best lawyers in the country. He, himself, had witnessed their unquestionable skills. And yet…
Edgeworth throws his arms up in defeat as his rival finally wretches the rest of his paper away and mercilessly crinkles it.
"Bother! What's gotten into you, Wright? Now it is your duty to procure a new one for me."
Phoenix smiles and crosses his arms over his chest. "That's just too bad. Fortunately for you there happen to be newspapers all up and down this street. Go outside and pick whichever one you want, Miles."
The prosecutor tensed up, his brow furrowing, both fists on the table. "That's stealing Wright! If that was to be some sort of jest it was in very-poor taste! I am serious! You destroyed my personal property and I demand retribution!"
Phoenix laughed, covering his face with his hands in exhaustion. "So shoot me!"
The both turned to Simon and spoke simultaneously.
"Can you believe this delinquent?"
"Can you believe this pompous ass?"
Simon pretended that he had not observed any of the events of the past few minutes— he had been making a thorough study of two of Trucy's magic ring props. So thorough that his hearing was also affected.
Not that Simon's terrible acting mattered since the two rivals began arguing as soon as they both asked for Simon's opinion. This time Phoenix had the upper hand. He was mirroring Edgeworth's actions and saying almost the exact same thing at the same time.
"What?!"
"What?"
"Stop it Wright!" Hand-slam the table.
"Stoppit Wright!" Hand-slam the table.
"This is most unhumorous!"
"This is so unhumorous!"
"Objection!"
"Objection!"
"Enough!" Lean forward, grimace, make fists out of hands, snarl.
"Enough!" Lean forward, grimace, make fists out of hands, snarl.
"Quit being childish!"
"Quit acting childish!"
"This is most foolish!"
"You are most foolish!"
"I cannot stand it anymore!"Point and shake finger.
"I cannot take anymore!"Point and shake finger.
"You are the most insufferable man! I hate you!"
"You're the worst insufferable man! I loathe you!"
"No you don't!" Arms spread, hands out, palms up, shake head.
"No I don't!" Arms spread, hands out, palms up, shake head.
"See there, that wasn't so hard, was it Miles?"
The other was fuming, still poised on the edge of his seat, ready to strike.
"Don't call me that," He growls softly.
"Yeah, sure, whatever, Miles."
Simon strategically drops something to remind them that he was still there before either said something too incriminating. For someone who stood out so much, he also tended to get lost in the background sometimes.
Within a second, both men were in the exact same position they were before the previous interaction—Miles sipping his tea and reading (from a file this time), Phoenix slumped over spacing out.
Just then Trucy walks up, rubbing her eyes, yawning. She takes one look at the scene and shakes her head. "Daddy do the paper thing again?"
Miles does not look up from his file, "Predictable as ever. Good morning Trucy."
"Good morning Uncle Edgy!"
Miles visibly flinches but does not correct her. Simon had to wonder for what seemed like the hundredth time: who was this girl and what was the source of her power?!
"I didn't get a good morning," Phoenix grumbles. His head is perched on his crossed arms on the table, his body radiates 'neglected.'
Trucy twirls over and kisses his stubbly cheek. "Good morning daddy!" She spins around and bows slightly, touching the empty place above her head where her hat usually was. "And you too Mr. Simon!"
He grunted in response, not looking up. If he did look he would automatically correct the use of his first name…But he was still a tad weary of this girl's unknown hold on the others.
Just then she emits a small squeal. "Is that?!"
And she's gone clear across the space into the living room in a flash. Simon can see her perform several surprised reaction faces, even doing several double-takes and falling backwards. Just as quickly as she left she's right back in front of the table, mouth making a giant "O" behind her hands.
"Why are Polly and cuddling over there?"
"Yes, Wright, I would like to know the same thing." Edgeworth adds.
Phoenix's head slowly rises from his arms. He messes his already well-tousled hair. "Whacha mean by cuddling?"
Trucy drags her father back to the couch. He reacts the same way that she did—all dramatic faces and gestures. Only he pulls his phone out of a hidden pocket and starts mercilessly snapping. Edgeworth sighs and marches over there, wrenching the phone out of the other's hand and deleting everything. Simon can see them engage in another nonverbal fight over the ethics of blackmailing one's subordinates with embarrassing photos. Meanwhile Trucy takes plenty of shots with her own phone behind her unobservant Uncle Edgy. She's silently cackling. Simon is suddenly even more intimidated by this fiendish young woman.
In a moment they return to the table, and Phoenix briefly explains the events of the previous night (omitting the parts about Simon.) It is entertaining to watch Trucy's reactions, all of which come with dramatic accessories in the form of over-emotive facial expressions. Edgeworth only frowns harder and harder, until even Simon becomes concerned the man's mouth might just slide off his face. When Phoenix is finished, the two take their time in silence, letting the information settle. Trucy looks as if she is calculating something involving advanced theoretical astrophysics. Apparently she took Apollo's life very seriously.
Edgeworth breaks the silence first. "Well I'm afraid I should not have heard any of that. Now I can hardly deny prior knowledge of this. It really is high time you got a driver's license, Wright."
He laughs. "Nah then I'd have to consider myself a responsible adult or something!"
Edgeworth did not look amused.
"Poor Polly," Trucy whispers to herself.
The way she said it made Simon actually feel sorry for Apollo. Thankfully the feeling passed quickly.
Trucy stoops and straightens out one paper section into a tube roll, poising it above Phoenix's head. "And did you offer our guest any refreshments?"
Phoenix cringed. The paper came down on his head, thumping hollowly a few times as punishment. "How rude!"
"Indeed," Edgeworth agreed.
Phoenix groaned, thumping his head down on the table. "I can't do anything right."
"That's because you don't always do things the Wright way, daddy! You've taught me better than you act half the time."
He groaned again in response.
Trucy turns towards Simon to ask, "What would you like for breakfast? We haaaave: four types of cereals, two kinds of instant oatmeal, pop tarts, cereal bars, muffins, toast, burritos, cinnamon rolls, yogurt, milk, fruit. Or I can make pancakes, eggs, waffles, grits, bacon, hash browns, biscuits, anything. And don't bother telling me not to go to any trouble because really I'm a food wiz and breakfast is easy. Plus I make daddy clean up. So what's your poison?" She was so excited she was practically bouncing on her toes.
Simon just stood there blinking trying to force himself to say something, anything. Hell he was making things weird. What did he even like anymore? Damnit this was supposed to be easy. Do not panic. Do not show any weakness.
Trucy spins around in a circle, again tapping the air where her hat usually perches. "Roger that! All out continental special coming right up! It's only right since we have so many guests anyway. Buffet all the way bae-bae!"
Trucy speeds off towards the kitchen, calling over her shoulder, "Can I get you anything, Uncle Edgeworth?"
"A new paper would be lovely, other than that no thank you, Trucy."
"Coffffeeeeee," whined Phoenix, head still buried in his arms.
Edgeworth scoffs at such an "unrefined beverage." Phoenix seems too tired to argue about it. His arms resume holding his head off of the table.
Before long Trucy returns with a tumbler of coffee and a mug for Simon.
"Here and here! I guessed you drink yours black Mr. Simon?"
"Correct."
She did the imaginary tip of the hat move again, then bowed. "I'm very good at guessing."
He raised an eyebrow. "I can see that."
Meanwhile Phoenix was intently studying his tumbler. "Trucy, honey, why did you make this to go?"
She spins around to face him, suddenly looking shy. "Um. Well you have to go get a new paper for Uncle Edgeworth and pick up more supplies since you invited more people over than our little kitchen can handle."
Phoenix groaned again, hitting his head on the table several times. "Noooooo way José!"
"Yes way!" She stomped her foot. "Up and at 'em, on the double!" She points to the door.
"I'm afraid that, again, your daughter is right about this one, Wright."
Trucy flashes a charming stage-smile to her "uncle" for the help.
Once again Simon witnessed how easy it was for people to gang up on Phoenix Wright. After only a few more encouraging prompts, he got up and left. When he came back he was in another casual outfit which Miles turned his nose up at.
"What?! Not everyone can be fancy-smancy all the time like you. Also—you come into my house, wake me up, pester me incessantly, criticize my…,"
Phoenix ranted out the door, his driver Miles right behind him. Trucy immediately retreated back to the kitchen, leaving Simon once again alone in the quiet.
[Trucy- 13ish/middle school] [Apollo-22][Kristoph-25] [Simon-26][Phoenix, Edgeworth- 31]