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In Justice We Trust (120928 words) by thesavagesabretooth
With Simon Blackquill and Athena Cykes assigned as their psychologists, the Phantom and Fulbright must grapple with their identity, their deeds, their future, and their love for the twisted samurai whom they betrayed.
All the while, Edgeworth and Wright find their relationship tested as they walk the narrow path between pursuing real justice, and the dark age of the law.
–
December 25, 12:30 pm
Robert had turned the conversation away, to more mundane things again, asking Athena more about her cooking and taste in food as he ate. It was a good thing that he had, perhaps, because Athena’s long dissertation on the various types of baked pastries she’d seen in Germany during one of her trips there was interrupted by the Chief Prosecutor’s arrival.
The minute he arrived, she was back to big smiles and exaggerated movements, putting her whole body into the wave hello.
Edgeworth had asked Athena if she minded talking with him in private, and when she agreed, she noticed Halblicht hastily finish his meal and flag down the waitress for some to-go order that he didn’t catch. She’d promised to meet the chief prosecutor in the conference room in just a few minutes, and escorted Bobby up to Simon’s room again.
Athena was quiet for most of the walk, lost in her own head with the imaginings of what Miles could possibly want to talk about bouncing around her head. But she did speak a little once they got closer.
She wished Bobby luck, telling him to make sure Simon was holding up alright. Bobby had squeezed her shoulder and wished her luck in return, with a smile and a more nervous than usual salute.
And now Athena was at the door to the chief prosecutor’s temporary conference room.
She took a deep and steadying breath, before she knocked.
“Come in,” the chief prosecutor’s clear, warm voice rang out.
Athena opened the door and walked inside with a smile. “Hey sir! Hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long!”
Miles was seated at the table, a number of papers stacked up in front of him. He shook his head, and beckoned her over to sit down.
“Not at all, Ms. Cykes. Thank you for coming.”
Athena nudged the door shut before she took a seat opposite Miles with a lopsided smile and a tilt of her head. “Happy to! Is this about the operation today?”
“It is,” he nodded. “I was hoping for a debrief, and an exchange of information.”
She snapped a playful salute before she leaned back in the chair.
“You got it, Chief Prosecutor! So ah…we investigated the crime scene, as you know. There was a lot of evidence…the blood trail, the broken trunk, the bodies switched between the cars and lit on fire to remove identification..”
Edgeworth nodded, lacing together his fingers and leading toward her. His expression was composed, but she could sense a low simmer, primarily of anxiety and confusion.
“Yes, I heard from Agent Ash about the basics– it sounds like you did fine work.”
Athena flushed, and ducked her head with a silly little grin, brushing her fingers through her hair
“Well, we did our best , Mr. Edgeworth…in the end, as you know, we figured out ‘Agent Kelso’ was the target and stopped her from committing suicide when she got cornered…I ah..” She glanced off to the side “according to Detective Halblicht, she’s #24…and she’s much younger than he is.”
“Number 24,” he nodded, and frowned, troubled. “Lang got that much out of her– but not much more so far. How much younger?”
“He didn’t say…I don’t know if he knows for certain. Information is tightly controlled and…and especially when it comes to identifying markers.” Athena rubbed her arm. “his exact words were ‘younger than me by a while’. So…I’m guessing by a fair bit.”
“I see…” Edgeworth made a note. “That’s… just another troubling element of this case, I suppose. One of many. At least we caught her fairly quickly, all things considered.”
“At least, and unharmed too.” Athena said seriously “…hopefully we can get the information out of her to track down the person she helped escape.”
She quietly hoped that maybe, just maybe, they could help the girl out too.
“Hopefully,” Miles nodded. “we have the impression that this operation– after the plane ride– was quite rushed. They didn’t expect to be followed, so they’ve made some mistakes. Hopefully those mistakes will lead us further up the chain.”
“Yeah…I mean, the asset..” It felt disgusting in her mouth. The word, the idea of human beings as ‘assets’ without identity. The cruelty of it made her physically sick “…o-only had a day or so to get into character, get the mask, all of it. She probably spent all night before we came doing that, and most of the night after….which is why it was full of holes, so to speak. So maybe the handler made mistakes too.”
She punched her palm. “we get them and ACHTUNG, they’re going down! One by one up the chain, sir!”
Miles chuckled. “Yes, yes indeed. They’re going down. We can only hope that Lovelace was as sloppy as his subordinate. You know the broken window of her car?”
“Agent Ash said it looked like it was broken into, sir. Was it not?”
He wagged a finger. “Wright and I have a theory about that. We’re pretty certain she must have shot Kelso through the window, and then smashed it herself to disguise the bullet hole.”
“That does make sense.” Athena’s expression fell. “It’d make it hard to see the path the bullet took when you didn’t have time to get rid of the car.”
She reached into her pocket before pulling out the sunglasses she’d stolen, thoughtfully brushing her fingers along their side. “She didn’t have a lot of time at all, so she probably did whatever she could.”
“I imagine she was quite desperate. I’m hoping that we can get more of her story out of her. But what do you have there?”
“It won’t be easy, sir, I’ve heard a lot about how that organization operates at this point an—” she paused, and looked down at the sunglasses before holding them up.
“These are hers. She seemed to be trying to do something with them when Simon was using the UV light on her, so I snatched him out of her hand. I found a couple little switches on it.”
Edgeworth went pale and she felt his anxiety suddenly spike. “Ms. Cykes– those could be highly dangerous.”
Athena nodded. “That’s why I wanted to show them to you, Mr. Edgeworth. In the chaos of the crime scene I hadn’t had the chance to pass it off to anyone…but I think it might be a computing device? I remember Robert had something similar during the trial, connected to his watch.”
The chief prosecutor relaxed somewhat and nodded. “Yes… that’s right. Some kind of computer.” He touched his chin thoughtfully. “Probably we ought to turn it over to Interpol to get their opinion on it…”
Athena folded them back up and placed them on her lap.
“Will they share whatever they find with us?” She was supposed to be involved in the upcoming case, and it was evidence she’d technically found. Whatever was on it could be the very key to her case, as long as she was still given access to it before ‘the day of the trial’.
“I would like to hope so, but…” he paused. “Ms. Cykes– our suspect in custody will be facing trial soon– although not as soon as usual. Do I still have your commitment to defend her?”
Athena thought back to the woman’s spike of fear and despair moments before she attempted to take her own life, and of the things Robert had told her of the brutal and cold way they’d all been raised.
Number 24 had almost certainly taken the life of Agent Kelso, and possibly the lives of the other two agents as well.
She was guilty, but– the guilty still deserved a fair trial to determine the circumstance, the truth beyond the obvious facts. Athena couldn’t leave someone up there alone without anyone to defend them.
“Of course, Mr. Edgeworth. I’ll defend her with all I’ve got.”
The chief prosecutor smiled at her and nodded. “Then put the glasses away, Ms. Cykes. I never saw them.”
Athena sighed with quiet relief as she slipped them into her pocket with a smile. “What glasses, sir?”
He weaved his fingers together, and nodded. “Indeed. Oh, but I did want to talk to you about that trial.”
“Alright…” Athena leaned on her hands. “What’s up, Mr. Edgeworth?”
“It’s not going to be standard, due to the international nature of the case. I’ve talked Lang into having the trial in LA, but it’s not going to be standard. Interpol will have their hands on her for a week or two at least before we can get her in front of a judge.”
Athena grimaced in a performance of her real frustration. “That makes sense, given the international nature of it…but a week or two in Interpol custody huh? Am I gonna get to talk to her in the meantime at all to build my case? Do they have a psychologist on staff?”
“They do, but I’m also hoping you and Blackquill will be able to talk to her. They’ll be holding her in LA as well, thankfully. Lang can be… agreeable enough, when persuaded.”
Athena’s grimace turned to a bright and curious smile. “He can be? Do you and Mr. Lang have history?”
He chuckled and Athena heard the mix of affection and annoyance in his tone. “Oh we go way back, I’m afraid.”
“Your friend Agent Ash was saying that he’s a pretty good boss…something about how he treats every agent with dignity in ‘the pack’, yeah?” Athena tapped her chin thoughtfully. “the boss told me that you vanished for a while and got caught up with a bunch of Interpol stuff, is that when you met him?”
“It was indeed,” he nodded. “I had a few very interesting adventures back in the day. It seems both long ago and recent.”
“And now it’s come full circle, huh? I mean…you’re traveling abroad, you’re working with Agent Lang and his pack. That’s pretty neat, even with the circumstances!”
Edgeworth smiled wider and she heard a little excitement in his voice. “You may come to understand, Ms. Cykes– there’s always circumstances. Admittedly, they’re the most fun when they’re somebody else’s circumstances.”
“Then you just get the thrill of the mystery without the personal stakes?” Athena asked with a quiet chuckle. “honestly, I get it. Investigating’s the fun part.”
“How was this morning?” he asked. “Socially. I know you and Blackquill have acted as opposition in the courtroom up to this point– and will again.”
“It honestly went pretty great?” Athena sat up straighter. “I mean…Simon, Halblicht , Ema and I worked really well together. Ema and Halblicht found evidence, which Simon and I went back and forth over until we started getting an idea of the truth and how it all fit together.”
She clapped her hands together. “it was beautiful…like those moments in court when things finally start barrelling towards the truth, but distilled into a moment! I don’t know why the defense and prosecution don’t investigate together more often!”
“Something I’ve begun to wonder myself, Ms. Cykes. While we’re busy sweeping out the refuse of the dark age of the law, maybe that little notion is something that could be addressed.” He leaned his chin on his hands thoughtfully. “Myself, Wright and Gumshoe were doing much the same.”
“I hope so…” Athena nodded. “I think maybe the new age of the law should be a brighter one, with more trust and communication between the two sides, you know?”
“On that, my young lawyer friend I very much ag–”
Miles was cut off by a sharp, harsh knocking on the conference room door.
“Hhhhh!??” Athena sat bolt upright, “Uhm…come in?”
Edgeworth winced, and she felt a sting of his anxiety as she spoke, but he didn’t contradict her.
The door opened.
“Mr. Edgeworth– I was told that I could find you in here.”
It was Apollo Justice
December 25, 12:40 pm
Simon had been laying face down on the hotel bed for a while. He didn’t know how long it had been. Long enough, he supposed, that when there was a knock on the door, he raised his head enough to gruffly bark out “come in!”
The door pushed inward, and Halblicht stepped in. Simon immediately righted himself, sitting up on the bed, and pushed his hair back. It was still a mess, of course, but at least it was out of his eyes. He rubbed his face, and hoped that the man couldn’t see that he’d been crying earlier.
He leveled a dull glower at him. “I see you still haven’t made a break for it.”
“No, sir!” He saluted. Tucked under his other arm he was holding a white box.
“Good.” Simon wasn’t immediately able to tell whether it was Robert, or Bobby active, though he guessed the latter.
This was the first time they’d been alone in the room together since early last night, when Simon had had him handcuffed. It was the first time they’d been alone together since Simon had let himself believe that Bobby was in there, and what that might mean.
He’d been thinking about it a lot.
In the awkward pause, Bobby smiled and held up the box. “I brought something for you.”
“Oh did you?”
It was so familiar. It was how so many of their visits began. Fool Bright arriving at his prison cell: ‘I brought you something!’. It sent a wave of nostalgia through Simon, and made him shift uncomfortably.
Bobby– yes, it was definitely Bobby– smiled nervously and widely. “Well, we were talking about it yesterday, and what with it being Christmas and all…”
He trailed off, until Simon pointed at him. “Out with it!”
Bobby yelped and twitched but the grin never left his face. “Yes, sir! I brought you some cake, Prosecutor Blackquill!”
The cake. The damned cake. Christmas cake again.
In Japan it was common to spend Christmas as a romantic holiday with your lover, and sharing a cake was traditional. The practice had spread over to America– to LA at least– in recent decades too.
It was obvious what Bobby was doing. It wasn’t subtle at all. It had been obvious last year too. It was a romantic gesture.
And Simon had to decide if he was going to accept it.
The events of the last five days flashed through his mind all at once at lightning speed. From the trial, to the sniper, to Edgeworth’s request– meeting ‘Halblicht’ in the hospital, the 14 hours on the plane, the late night therapy session, sleeping beside him with his arm around the man, the thrill of solving the case together, the confession to Athena, and the last agonizing hour or so of reflection.
It was too much to process.
It was too much to ask of logic and reasoning.
It was simply not a problem that fell in the purview of logic.
It fell to pure emotion, and what would win out. Rage, and bitterness and grief, or love and tenderness, and if not forgiveness, then acceptance.
Simon fumbled for what to say. His voice cracked and croaked, before he finally managed a sharp, ragged sentence. Halfway to a demand.
“Well I hope there’s at least one fork in that box, Fool Bright, because I am not going to let you feed me with those paws you call hands.”
As understanding dawned through Bobby, the look that spread over his face really sold the fact that it was Christmas. He looked like a kid who had come downstairs that morning to find that Santa actually had brought him the pony, and the red ryder BB gun as well.
It was a guileless smile of pure joy, written all over Bobby’s guileless, idiot face. Even subtly different as it was now without the mask, embarrassed as he was to accept it, Simon had to admit that he adored that smile, and he had missed it.
Bobby saluted again, still beaming. “Yes, sir! Uh, at least I think so– I didn’t actually check uh–”
“Sit down, Bobby!” Simon snapped. He patted the bed beside him, fully aware from the heat in his face that he was probably as red as a tomato.
“Ope! Yes, Simon!” Bobby grinned and plopped himself down on the bed next to him, and put the box on his legs.
Simon felt his shoulder against his own, the warm and subtle moment of contact between them. He’d been missing it for days, until last night. Those casual moments of touch between them. It had been six long years in prison since he had real, tender, casual human contact. Bobby’s casual touches, as much or more so than the romantic ones, were such a deeply reassuring relief. And he’d thought he’d never feel them again.
He leaned his head on his shoulder and watched as Bobby opened the box.
“Aha!” the detective grinned and scooped a plastic fork out of the box. Inside there was a quite large and appetizing slice of white frosted cake with strawberries. “There is a fork! Ah, looks like we’ll have to share, though.”
Simon laughed ruefully. “Like old times, then. When I couldn’t legally be trusted with silverware.”
“Just like old times,” Bobby chuckled along with him, and leaned into him. “But you trust me with this fork, right?”
“Justitia help me, I do. If you were going to try to murder me with a plastic utensil I guess you’d have done it by now.”
Simon watched him scoop up a forkful of cake and offer it to him.
“I promise, you have nothing to fear from us, Simon. But especially not something ridiculous like that.” Halblicht’s voice and expression had both smoothed abruptly. Now it wasn’t just Bobby holding out that bite of cake to him– it was the Phantom.
The hair on the back of Simon’s neck stood up, and he hesitated.
“Robert,” he greeted. He took a deep breath, and shook some of the tension out of himself. “It’s obvious where Bobby and I stand, I think, given our last year of interaction, and his enthusiastic displays. But what about you? I need to know. Before this goes any further.”
Simon watched the man’s face for flickers of emotion and reaction. A little like he had been the day before– right before Bobby had tackled him into the most alarming hug of his life.
Robert was quiet for a moment, still holding out the cake.
“I’m here, aren’t I?” he said, finally. “If I wasn’t interested in being here, I’d just let Bobby do what he wanted.”
Simon turned it over in his mind. “I suppose that’s true.”
Robert’s cool blue gaze met his, tinted through his amber sunglasses. “I was there through all of it, Simon. Every moment of it Every joke, every moment of triumph. Every touch. I don’t know my own emotions. I don’t know if they’re the same things other people experience. But I want to be here.”
He felt quiet for a moment, and Simon was about to answer, but Robert spoke again.
“Bobby says I’m in love with you, Simon. I don’t know if that’s the right word, but I think I want it to be. The times we’ve spent together– it’s time I want to repeat. It’s… pleasant.”
Simon saw that Robert’s hand was shaking now, as he held the little bite of cake on the fork, and Simon felt a swell of emotion overtake him, and a lump grew in his throat.
He thought again about that little child huddled in the dark cement room. About the man so distant from his own emotions that he could kill a woman in cold blood just because he was told to. The man so hurt and unloved that he didn’t even know what love felt like. And here he was, holding out a bite of cake for Simon. Managing to express that he enjoyed his company. That he wanted to be in love with him.
Simon dug his nails into his palms trying not to cry as he leaned against Halblicht’s body. He swallowed, trying to clear the thickness in his throat.
“If you want to be here, Robert,” he said slowly, “then I’m glad that you’re here. And I’m glad that you’ve been there all along.” He reached out, and he put his hand on the side of Halblicht’s face.
Robert smiled the smallest, most fragile ghost of a smile that Simon had ever seen.
“Good then,” he said quietly. “We have that straightened out now. So… would you like this cake, or should I put it back?”
Simon laughed a heave of a laugh that hurt his chest, and he leaned on Robert. He moved his hand from his Robert’s face, to his wrist. “Put the damned cake down, it can wait for a moment.”
He waited until Robert had lowered the fork back into the box, and then he pulled him closer.
“Now come here, both of you."
Careful of the balanced cake box, he pulled the bigger man into his arms, and into a kiss. It was bizarre, and surreal, and tragic, and so, so comforting and welcome. All of the desire, and longing and desperate hurt Simon had been feeling came out in that passionate kiss, as their lips moved against one another, and he felt like it must be the same for the both of them.
He kissed them– Bobby and Robert– deep and eager, until they were all breathless, and he thought that perhaps later he would figure out if he could tell the difference between kissing the one or the other, but that was for later.
Simon took a deep breath, as he watched Bobby beaming again, tears at the corner of his eyes. Simon was sure that both of them looked equally a mess.
"Now,” Simon announced, “you may feed me the cake.”
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