AN: This story was written for an LJ prompt many years ago, after Apollo Justice was released but before Dual Destinies and Spirit of Justice. Because of this, some information presented here might contradict later installments in the series.
"Okay, Pearly, this is it. Are you nervous?"
The sixteen-year old groaned in response as she apprehensively eyed the large, run-down building. Even without the sign, Pearl Fey could tell it was a prison from the wired fence surrounding the exterior and the dismal aura emanating from it. She shivered, wishing she wore a heavy coat instead of training robes. "Mystic Maya, are you sure you can't come in with me?"
Maya gave a small laugh, but Pearl could tell that there was pain underneath it. Nevertheless, the Master of Kurain placed a comforting hand on her cousin's shoulder. "Pearly, you know I can't do that. Aunt Morgan requested for you alone, and I doubt she'd be happy to see me. The last thing she needs right now is more stress, given her health."
Pearl's shoulders slumped, recalling the news of Morgan's dwindling life expectancy.
"What if she tries something?" blurted Pearl, bringing her thumb to her lip and biting it nervously—an old habit she was never able to fully break. "She tried to manipulate me into killing someone! And the last time I spoke to her in-person was seven years ago. What if she wants revenge, or what if this is another trap?"
"You're sixteen now, Pearly. Back then Aunt Morgan used you because you didn't know any better. Now you're more aware, not to mention a stronger person."
Out of the corner of her eye, Pearl noticed a few passerbys staring at the strangely dressed women. Or perhaps just Maya—unlike Pearl, whose simple outfit consisted of different shades of lavender, Maya was decked in an indigo kimono with a black shawl and silver trimmings. Even without the red pendent proclaiming her status as the Master of Kurain village, the strong and graceful way she carried herself was enough to convince outsiders of her high standing.
A long time ago, odd stares would have made Pearl feel self-conscious. But one good thing about growing older was realizing just how little the opinions of strangers mattered. They had far more important things to worry about.
But still…
"I don't feel any stronger," muttered Pearl, glaring at the prison. If possible, the building seemed to grow even larger. "If anything, I feel even weaker now than when I was a kid."
"Me and Trucy would have to disagree," Maya replied, smiling. Pearl's head whipped around at the mention of her girlfriend's name. "You know, it took a lot of convincing to get her to stay in school today instead of standing here now. I'm sure if she was here she'd put her hands on her hips and say, 'C'mon, Pearly! You won't know how things'll turn out unless you take a chance!'"
"Yup, sounds like Trucy," agreed Pearl, a faint blush appearing on her cheeks. Desperately desiring a change in topic, she rushed to say, "But I'm not the only one here who has to do something she isn't looking forward to. Today's your talk with Mr. Nick, isn't it?"
Maya's gaze fell to the ground, and Pearl bit her lip. Now she wished she didn't say anything.
For the past seven years, Phoenix Wright never visited Kurain village or made any effort to reach out to either of the Feys. Pearl later discovered he was disbarred and cut off contact with his old friends for reasons she didn't fully understand, only reneging on that decision very recently. At Maya's wishes, Pearl didn't press into the matter at the time, but with adolescence comes teenage rebellion, and Pearl slowly but surely gathered information regarding the case and disbarment, which led to her reaching out to Phoenix behind Maya's back. Although she usually yielded to rules and regulations, she would not have changed her actions. It was how she met Trucy after all, and what eventually led to Phoenix and Maya's newfound reconciliation.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean–"
"No worries. It's about time me and him had a heart-to-heart like in the good ol' days. I mean, after seven years, he better be ready to talk to Maya Fey!" She paused for a moment. "The real one, that is."
Pearl felt her cheeks redden as her gaze lowered. "I just wanted everything to go back to normal," she mumbled. "I thought if I sent him those Steel Samurai DVD's pretending to be you, it would be like nothing ever happened."
"It's not a problem, Pearly. Really, it's not!"
The loud ring of church bells interrupted the girls' thoughts and caused their necks to snap towards it. Three O'Clock.
"Yikes! Aunt Morgan told you to come sharply at three! You know how she gets when someone arrives late…"
"I know, I know," Pearl sighed. "I guess I should go in…"
Maya wrapped Pearl in a tight embrace. "There's no reason to be nervous," she whispered kindly into Pearl's ear. "You got this. Call me on your cell phone when you want to be picked up, okay?"
Pearl nodded. Reluctantly letting go of her older cousin, Pearl slowly made her way to the door. Giving Maya one last pleading look (and pouting when all she got in return was a thumbs up), Pearl opened the door.
The interior looked as appealing as the outside. A small, decaying potted plant greeted visitors by the entrance, and cheap blue plastic chairs littered the floor. Faded gray paint covered the barren walls, making the trek to the receptionist''s desk seem longer. The woman seated in it was applying red polish on her long nails from a vial perched questionably atop a stack of papers.
"Umm, excuse me, Ma'am," Peal began.
The receptionist's gaze flickered up briefly before returning to her task. "What? Are you here for something school related?"
"I'm, um, here to see a prisoner. Her name is Morgan Fey. My mother received a terminal diagnosis from the doctors and she's not, um…"—Pearl swallowed—"expected to live much longer. They said it was okay for me to visit today and gave me this letter, if you want to see it..."
Pearl rustled through the pockets of her robes before pulling out the beige envelope and showing the form. The receptionist inspected it quickly before giving her nails a soft blow and delicately pushing the button on the speaker system. "Meekins, come to the reception desk. Now."
Within seconds, bumbling footsteps from the hall to the right grew louder and louder. A scrawny yet excitable man appeared in a sudden burst, panting as if he just ran a marathon. Pearl was about to ask him if he was alright when the receptionist interrupted her train of thought.
"This kid wants to see Morgan Fey. You know, the kimono lady in solitary confinement? Bring this kid to her, will ya?"
The man brought his two fingers to his forehead in a salute. "I will not let you down, Miss Doncaer! I will walk this girl to Miss Fey's cell until-"
"Jeez. Shut up and hurry up, alright?"
Meekins shut his mouth before nodding at the receptionist (Pearl glanced at the nameplate on the desk—Aiya Doncaer) and turning to Pearl. "Miss Fey's cell is right this way, Miss! Try not to make eye contact with the other prisoners. I had to learn the hard way." Meekins gulped, eyes falling to the ground. Pearl felt a twinge of sympathy.
"I can hear your story as we go there, if you want."
"It will be my honor and privilege as a security guard in this here facility to tell you my story." Meekins saluted Pearl while Aiya rolled her eyes behind him. "This way, please!"
Although Pearl offered to hear Meekins's story, she paid him little mind as they walked through the hall and past the cells of various inmates. It was always strange, Pearl thought, that visitors were allowed to visit prisoners from their cells. But after a case a few months ago in which a man (Mr. Nick…) illegally recorded a conversation with an inmate in order to gain an edge in a trial, the state of California was considering abolishing cell visitations altogether.
As the hallways became darker (and Meekins' voice more grating) Pearl's thoughts drifted towards the man responsible for the prison visitation controversy: Phoenix Wright. How was Maya doing right now?
Everything should be okay. He's still the same Mr. Nick…isn't he? Just with slightly looser morals. And besides, he raised Trucy, and she turned out fine. Plus, Trucy's looking for a stepmother, so maybe after all this time Mr. Nick and Mystic Maya could finally…
Meekins' shrill voice took on an even higher note, jolting Pearl out of her reverie. "And then the man roared at me! He actually roared, like a tiger! I was so afraid and didn't know what to do! I considered calling for backup, but then I remembered my father always told me a man must stand his ground, so I…."
"Good sir, I believe that's enough. Given my rather….unfortunate diagnosis, I requested to speak with my daughter alone. Now, if you please…"
The hairs on Pearl's neck stood up at the same time the security guard's mouth clamped shut. She turned and immediately stifled a gasp.
The sickness had ravaged Morgan's body and spit out a twisted, hollow shell of the woman-that-once-was. Her familiar black kimono hung over unfamiliar skeletal wrists, her thinning hair pulled back in a valiant yet unsuccessful attempt to recreate the hairstyle Pearl remembered from childhood.
Yet despite the sunkenness of her eyes, paleness of her skin, and brittleness of her body, Morgan Fey stood tall with the poise, grace, and strength of an ancient queen.
Love, hatred, and envy swelled in Pearl's heart.
"Yes ma'am!" Meekins saluted before rummaging through his pockets and pulling out a shiny brass key. He fumbled with the lock until it finally opened. "I was ordered to stand by the hallway in case of an emergency, Miss, so if there's any trouble, just give me a holler."
The door to the cell swung open as Meekins ushered Pearl inside before shutting the door and clicking it closed. Pearl's anxiety spiked. "I will stand by waiting for your call without fail!" Giving one last salute, the security guard hurried out of the hall and down the corner.
Pearl gulped, a lamb thrown in a lion's den. She looked over at her mother, who had an unreadable expression on her face. Unable to maintain eye contact, Pearl's gaze flickered around the rest of the room.
Scrolls with different kanji and vivid paintings hung on otherwise dreary gray walls. An intricately designed rug with the sun and the moon woven into it spread out across the floor, concealing most of the cement. Two chairs—red and black—were situated on opposite sides of the room facing one another. In the middle of the cell stood a small wooden table; on top sat a white teapot with a floral design engraved in it, next to two cups with the same pattern.
Pearl took a deep breath and turned towards her mother again. Morgan eyed her up and down, soaking in every detail. Subconsciously straightening her back, Pearl wondered if she should be the first one to speak, but that inner question was soon answered.
"It's been a while, Pearl."
"Yes it has, Mother." Pearl tried to imitate the pristine coolness of her mother's voice, but failed.
"Have a seat. This may be our last conversation—it's unbecoming for you to stand by the door looking as though you're eager to bolt out at any moment."
That's because I am.
Still, Pearl shuffled over to the black chair and sat. It was unexpectedly cushy.
Morgan daintily strode towards the table and picked up the white teapot with bony fingers.
"I do hope your taste in tea hasn't changed. Hojicha is still your favorite, correct?"
Pearl swallowed. "Yes..."
Morgan nodded, satisfied, before slowly pouring the liquid in one of the white cups. The silence hanging in the room was tangible, and Pearl searched frantically for something to say. There were so many things she wanted to confront her mother about, but actually putting them into words was the challenging part. After filling the cup to the brim, Morgan walked towards Pearl, careful and deliberate, before leaning in to give her the cup.
Purposely avoiding contact with Morgan's hands, Pearl grabbed it and brought the cup onto her lap. "Thank you," she mumbled.
Morgan simply smiled, though Pearl couldn't tell if it was genuine. The woman turned and walked slowly towards the chair on the opposite side of the room and sat. Though she disguised it well, Pearl could tell every step Morgan took was labored, and something twisted in Pearl's stomach.
Morgan folded her hands on her lap gracefully and tilted her head at her daughter. "To be perfectly frank, I didn't have much confidence in your arrival."
Pearl took a sip of tea. She wasn't sure how to respond, but decided it would be best to answer honestly. "I wasn't going to, but Mystic Maya told me I should."
Morgan's lips pursed, and Pearl braced herself for Morgan's face to darken while she cursed the Master, Kurain, and fate in general. But instead, Morgan replied with two simple words: "How disheartening."
"You can't blame me, can you?" asked Pearl, emotion beginning to seep through her voice. "You plotted to kill your own niece!"
"I'm well aware of that, Pearl. I regret that I involved you in my ill-conceived scheme for revenge. But we're not here to talk about Mystic Maya."
Was this actually….self-awareness?
Pearl opened her mouth, then closed it, then opened it again. "Umm…what?"
Morgan gave Pearl a small, knowing smile, not unlike when Pearl was a child. "It's been seven years since I orchestrated the plot to kill my sister's daughter. Seven years since you refused to speak with me again. And yet here we are, together once more. I do not plan on soiling this opportunity by harping on such unpleasantness."
"'Unpleasantness?'" echoed Pearl. Disbelief bubbled into familiar anger. "That's an interesting way to say murder. Were you expecting me to just…forget? Were you expecting me to not be bothered by it, just because it happened years ago?"
"Not at all. My only hope is that you'll listen to what I have to say."
Pearl's fingers gripped the cup handle tighter, but she forced herself to remain calm. Morgan still disliked Maya, that much was apparent. But the pure loathing seemed to have evaporated, leaving a residue of self-pity and mild irritation. Pearl was unsure–and a bit frightened— where these new, uncharted waters would lead.
Morgan took Pearl's silence as a cue to continue speaking. "After seven years of reflection, I admit it was wrong of me to act on my vengeful impulses. I still believe my anger at the Branch family's treatment was justified, but the way I went about solving it was not. I used two of my daughters as pawns and was willing to kill my sister's child. That was wrong, and I apologize."
"I don't believe you." This was one of Morgan's mind games, it had to be. She was just trying to gain sympathy from her youngest daughter by telling her what she wanted to hear—like always. "You hated Mystic Misty and the main branch for decades. You can't change so quickly!"
Morgan sighed. "It was hardly quick. I had seven years to reflect on my misdeeds before this sickness wormed its way inside me. Seven years was enough time for that good sir to lose his badge, correct?" Morgan chuckled lightly at Pearl's expression. "You'd be amazed what information one could find from behind steel bars. Yes, I heard of his fall from grace, though I cannot say it upsets me. Regardless, I called you here because I wanted to speak about you. I want to know how you're doing, daughter: whether you're happy, what your future goals may be…I want to be your mother again, if only for a few moments."
Pearl eyed her mother warily. Was it truly possible for someone to change so much? She thought of Mystic Maya and Mr. Nick. Although Maya never lost the spunk and spirit from her teenage years, the young Master of Kurain was wiser and slightly more subdued than she used to be. Phoenix was far more jaded and cynical, and willing to sully his hands to find the truth. And Pearl changed too—she was less gullible, more driven, and much bolder.
If the three of them could change, why couldn't Morgan?
But it feels too easy, that's why.
"Well, I've been doing what I can to help Mystic Maya manage Kurain," Pearl began carefully. "More people have been visiting, ever since that case when Mystic Misty…you know." She trailed off.
"I see," Morgan refilled her teacup. "And do you plan on staying in Kurain your whole life?"
"Ummm, actually…" Pearl bit the edge of her thumb in nervousness. She knew her mother wouldn't approve of what she was about to say, and while she knew she shouldn't care, she couldn't help but feel the childish need for approval. "I don't plan on staying in Kurain."
"Oh?" A note of surprise entered Morgan's voice as she made her way back to the chair. "Then where do you plan on going, if I may ask?"
"The city." Pearl swallowed. Moment of truth… "I want to become a defense attorney."
Another thick silence filled the room.
"I see," Morgan finally replied, faintly. "Phoenix Wright was the deciding factor in this decision, I presume?"
"Sort of. He was my inspiration—-before he lost his badge, I mean. But I never really considered the idea until a few months ago."
"And what made you entertain the notion of becoming a lawyer instead of pursuing the path of a medium?" Morgan queried. Pearl tried to detect bitterness in her voice, but if it was there, she covered it well. "You have exceptional spiritual ability."
For one, you turned me off the idea permanently…
"I spent so much of my life surrounded by channeling that it doesn't feel fulfilling anymore," she replied diplomatically. "Recently, I did some investigating into Mr. Nick's disbarment. I really like solving mysteries…it reminded me of when I was eight, helping him and Mystic Maya at the office. I found where he was and tried writing to him." Pearl's cheeks flushed at the memory of pretending to be Maya. "Mystic Maya got a hold of what I was doing and we went to visit him to settle things. That's when I met him and…his associates."
"I'm sure he was glad to see you, after so long."
"He was pretty surprised. Things were tense at first between him and Mystic Maya, but everything's okay now." At least, they should be. "Going back to the city after such a long time made me realize how much I missed the world outside Kurain. My—um, a…friend told me I would make a good attorney, and the more I thought about it, the more right it felt. But it's not like I've completely abandoned Kurain! I'm still going to visit and help Mystic Maya whenever I can. I'll be sort of like how Mystic Mia was."
Once she said that, Pearl wished she could have taken it back. But Morgan ignored the last remark and brought the cup to her lips. "How very interesting." She took another sip of the warm tea. "But you're hiding something from me."
"…What?"
"You can't lie to your mother, Pearl. I can see the locks on your heart. There is something you do not wish to tell me regarding your new friend."
Feeling torn between an instinctive desire to placate her mother and adolescent defiance, she asserted, "It's nothing important."
"Pearl, are you possibly…pregnant with this 'friend's' child?"
"What?!" Pear's cheeks heated. "No, I'm not pregnant! And my friend's a girl!"
Morgan sighed, taking another sip of tea. "A pity. I admit that I had hopes of you continuing my line, even if the means were slightly…unorthodox. Then again, there are benefits to waiting until marriage. Why buy the cow if you can get the milk for free, hmm?"
Pearl's jaw clenched. "I don't have a boyfriend," she said through gritted teeth.
"If that is not the problem, then what could possibly deter you from telling your own mother the truth?"
You don't deserve the truth!, she wanted to snap. But instead, Pearl took a deep breath. "Tradition and pride have always been the two most important things for you. If there's something I'm not saying, it's because I don't feel comfortable speaking about it. I'd like you to respect my wishes."
"I am not forcing you to tell me, by any means. My curiosity is merely piqued, that's all."
Pearl's eyes hardened as they met her mother's. Perhaps it was out of desire to see her mother squirm. Perhaps it was to test whether or not Morgan really did change. Perhaps it was to prove she wasn't the same naive nine-year old her mother remembered. Regardless, Pearl stated simply: "I'm seeing another woman."
A smothering silence descended upon the room as the two women locked onto one another, total stupefaction on one's face and firm resolve on the other's. Morgan's mouth seemed to open and shut at random, trying and failing to formulate words. Pearl appeared outwardly confident, but felt queasy and unsettled on the inside.
"I see," Morgan murmured, looking down at her cup and refusing to meet Pearl's eyes. "What is the name of this…girl, if I may ask?"
Screw it, might as well go the whole way. "Trucy Wright."
If possible, the tension inside of the room grew even thicker. Morgan visibly tensed as Pearl shifted her sitting position on the chair, wondering if she should call out to Meekins.
"…Wright, you say? Any relation to the good sir who lost his badge?"
"She's his adopted daughter," Pearl replied, looking away from her mother and down at her lap. Morgan chuckled bitterly.
"Adopted? I see, then. He can hardly call himself a real parent."
Pearl's anxiousness morphed to fury, glaring at the woman sipping her tea with a smug expression. "Mr. Nick is a great father!" Even if some of his decisions are questionable at times... "You don't need to be related by blood to be a good parent. In fact, there are plenty of blood parents who do a terrible job, whose children wish they had anyone but them!"
"…Just what, exactly, are you insinuating?"
"What do you think I'm saying?" Pearl's voice rose, but she didn't care. "Where were you when my sisters grew up? If you actually treated Dahlia with kindness, maybe she wouldn't have turned out the way she did! But instead, you ignored and discarded them like trash when you realized they had no spiritual power. What about me? What if I was the one with no power? Would you have shoved me off to the side as well?"
"Enough! You know nothing of that time!" hissed Morgan, springing up from her seat. The sudden jump caused her to grip the armrest for balance. "Their wretched father took them from me! My own daughters…"
"You didn't even try looking for them," Pearl argued, remembering what Sister Bikini told her. "And when you did find out Iris was at Hazakura, you didn't contact her. Not once. Because I was born, you had no more use for her." Morgan's eyes flickered downward in what might have been guilt. "And when you found Dahlia in prison, you used her to her advantage."
"She wanted revenge just as much as I did."
"And you encouraged it. How can you possibly consider yourself a good parent?"
"I never claimed to be perfect," she growled. "I know I've made mistakes, and I admit that. But this tone of yours is uncalled for. I'm the one withering away from this horrible disease. I called you here to make amends. And this is how I'm treated? I'm not naive enough to believe in fairytale endings, but surely I deserve a modicum of civility."
Pearl was about to apologize out of reflex before stopping herself.
"No."
"Excuse me?"
"No, you don't 'deserve' anything. You can decide whether to ask for forgiveness, but you can't decide whether someone accepts. What I said was true, and I will not apologize for it. You're in no position to judge what makes a good parent."
Pearl was shaking, but whether it was out of fear or anger, she wasn't sure. All she knew for certain was that she was doing the impossible.
For the first time in her life, she was standing up to Morgan Fey.
Morgan raised a single, well-plucked eyebrow. "Are you truly in the position to judge what's 'good,' either? You choose courtship with a woman over eligible men to continue the Fey line. What about the good of Kurain, Pearl? You are putting your own desires over the village, discarding the sacred laws and traditions like waste."
"Things change, Mother," Pearl finally said, staring into Morgan's deep gray pools of insecurity. "Rules can't last forever because all people change. Good or bad, it'll always happen."
Morgan stared at Pearl in silence for a moment, expression unreadable. She then let out a small sigh as she placed her teacup beside her. "How very ironic of you to tell me that." Morgan's anger dissipated completely. The woman looked at her youngest daughter, the edges of her mouth curling slightly upward. "Were you not recently distrustful of me, based on my past actions? You were so reluctant to believe I could recognize my own pettiness. Yet now, you preach of change."
"That's different! You just proved you're still so—so judgmental. About everything."
"I am Morgan Fey, and will always be Morgan Fey," she said, smiling wryly. "Perhaps to my detriment. I may not understand your desires, and will always have my own expectations of propriety. And yet, I know I have experienced great change. Do you know how I know this?" Pearl's eyes narrowed, but she shook her head. "Because I'm realizing right now that I'd prefer you happy and childless than miserable producing heiresses."
Pearl raised an eyebrow skeptically in imitation of her mother. Morgan giggled from behind her kimono sleeve. "I don't expect you to believe me." Then, her expression grew serious. "But if you leave with nothing else, I want you to believe this."
Morgan rose from her seat and walked over to her daughter, resting her long, bony hands on Pearl's cheeks. Pearl grew rigid. "Pearl…you've changed. In all my years of living, I never would have expected you to stand your ground against me as you did. I see now that I cannot make your decisions for you, but I trust you know yourself enough to make wise ones."
Something caught in Pearl's throat, and she swallowed. Morgan knelt to become eye level with her, and apprehensiveness slowly died as she looked into her mother's teary, earnest eyes. "I do not wish to repeat my mistakes with your sisters, so I'll tell you this plainly: I love you, Pearl." Her vision blurred. "I always have, and I know my shortsightedness harmed you instead of helped. Yet despite this, the grace and maturity you display fills me with more pride than you can imagine. I wish you and this…Trucy….the best future imaginable."
Emotions pent up inside for seven years bubbled at the surface, and in one swift motion, Pearl buried her head into her mother's kimono, grabbing the woman in a tight embrace. She frantically tried to memorize the exact feel, smell, sight, and sound of this moment. There was only one thought running through her head now.
This is the last time I'll ever see my mother alive.
Pearl abruptly let go and stood up, looking at her mother with wide, frenzied eyes. "I-I don't want you to die. I…forgive you."
Morgan smiled gently. "Everyone dies eventually, Pearl. My time is merely sooner than most. Take solace in the fact we were able to make peace against all odds. Your forgiveness is worth more than the position of Master could ever be."
Pearl finally broke. She turned her head away from her mother, her dying mother, and hurried towards the door. "Officer Meekins, I need t-to leave now!" Pearl shouted, refusing to look at Morgan. In one quick motion the security guard appeared in front of the cell and fumbled in his pocket for the key.
"I am ready to assist you to the front door, Miss! I just unlocked the door and–"
Pearl shoved past Meekins and hurried down the hallway, ignoring the guard's shouts. She felt the watchful eyes of her mother boring into her back as she bit her lip and flew past various cells before the visitor's hall. She brushed past a startled Aiya and pushed open the door leading to freedom.
A whiff of fresh air greeted her, but she didn't feel free—instead, she felt more trapped than any prisoner. With trembling fingers, she pulled her pink cell phone out of her pocket and clumsily pushed the buttons. After leaving a short message, Pearl stumbled towards a wooden bench and slumped down.
Then, she began to cry. Softly at first, then louder, more violently, cycling between despair and anger and confusion.
Her mother claimed she was proud of Pearl's grace and maturity. But Pearl certainly didn't feel graceful and mature, with her face scrunched up, tears and snot dripping out of her as her body rocked and heaved in heavy sobs.
Memories of the past thirty minutes circled in her mind like a carousel. Her mother loved her. And her mother was going to die. Burying her head in her hands, Pearl cried and cried, wishing to go back in time and return to the eight-year old she once was. Wishing for the time before her whole world caved in, back when she simply thought the world of her mother, without the complicated, contradictory nuance that developed later.
After what seemed like hours, the bus pulled up and Maya exited. She rushed over to where Pearl was sitting and put her hands on the girl's shoulders. "Pearly, what's wrong? What happened?"
Pearl tried to form a coherent sentence, but had no idea where to start. Instead, her sobs intensified. She buried her head in her cousin's hair as the older spirit medium embraced the girl, rocking her back and forth.
"Keep crying, Pearly. Just let it all out…"
"I don't want her to die, Mystic Maya!" cried Pearl, tightening her grip on the back of Maya's kimono. "It's—It's not fair! She s-still said she loved me, even after all this time! I wish she didn't. I wish that nothing changed, so I could still think she was a b-bad person. B-But I can't. I still love her!"
"There's nothing wrong with that, Pearly," whispered Maya, pressing her lips to the younger girl's forehead. "She's your mother and you love her. But things change, and we have to adjust."
"I hate it!" wailed Pearl. She knew she sounded childish, and could never be as regal and poised as her mother. But she didn't care. The only thing she wanted—needed—was to let the tears flow.
"I know what you mean. Remember, I talked to Nick today." Pearl's cries softened as she swallowed and looked up tentatively at her cousin. "Things were similar, but different. We both felt it, and talked about it. And we both agreed things would probably never go back to exactly how they were before…everything. We both changed too much. But that doesn't mean we can't still be friends."
Pearl sniffled, and Maya sat beside her. "Pearly, everything changes eventually. You, Aunt Morgan, me, Nick, and everyone else. Sometimes it's scary, and other times you might not want it, but the best thing to do is move on while keeping the precious memories. And that's what you're doing. You're going to become an amazing defense attorney with a wonderful girlfriend. You don't need to forget about Aunt Morgan, just realize those memories can't prevent you from moving forward."
Tears trickled down Pearl's cheeks as she tried to restrain her sobs. "I-I know, Mystic Maya. But she was my mother…Mother….Mommy…"
"I know, Pearly. I know."
Maya let Pearl continue to weep as she stroked the back of Pearl's head, whispering words of comfort. Eventually, the girl ran out of tears, and she looked up at her cousin with a red, tear-stained face.
"I guess we should, um, go home now..."
"Only if you're ready. Are you?"
Pearl looked up at the large building and wiped her eyes with her purple sleeve. The prison didn't look anywhere near as menacing as it did before.
She slipped her hand into Maya's, and the Master of Kurain gave an encouraging squeeze. Pearl closed her eyes and took a shaky breath. She recalled all memories of Morgan, both the good and the bad, and the whirlwind of emotions that emerged, before finally accepted a truth locked away for the past seven years.
I love you, Mother. Goodbye.
She opened her eyes and smiled softly.
"Yes."
