December 23, 6:30 am
Simon and Athena planned to meet at the airport. They both had a lot to get done in the little time before the flight. Packing was only one element of it, and it would have been enough on its own. Simon had just bought the stuff. Now he needed luggage, too. But that would have to wait. First he had to meet with the Chief Prosecutor.
He hadn’t mentioned it to Athena the night before, but Edgeworth-dono had asked him to meet him at the hospital that morning. The reason hadn’t been mentioned specifically, but Simon was sure that he knew anyway. The phantom was going to be remanded into his custody.
As he had said the night before, the shoe was on the other foot.
Simon paused in the hospital lobby and put his foot on a free chair while he tightened the laces on his new boots. This– or possibly the presence of Taka on his shoulder– earned him a dirty look from a snooty looking woman in the chair beside his foot. With a mean smirk, he lingered there for a long moment, deciding to smooth his cuffs, and the lines of his pants as well, and tuck the whips of his hair behind his ears.
In court, Simon had typically worn his long jinbaori surcoat over a closely tailored blue jacket without a lapel, and a black tie. Today, he wore the jinbaori instead over a pressed black silk shirt with silver buttons, a black vest, and a deep jewel tone blue scarf tucked partway into it. It was the first new outfit he’d worn in seven years.
He made a show too, of fixing the angle of the scarf. Taka stretched his wings. The woman clucked in irritation and looked away. His smirk widened in satisfaction and he finally stopped stalling.
He headed for the security hallway, and passed into it, out of sight of the regular hospital patrons.
Yesterday when he had been here, he had entered and had left with a heart full of anguish, and turmoil. Both were still there, but they sat at a low simmer. Now they were overshadowed by a bleak determination, and a wry, black humor.
Simon reflected as he strode down the blank white medical hall.
This past year, Chief Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth had given special permissions to a convicted criminal, in order to use that criminal to draw out the Phantom.
He had used convicted criminal Simon Blackquill, giving him special permission to prosecute.
Now, Miles Edgeworth was using another criminal to go further up the chain. The Phantom.
It only made sense. It made terrible, dark sense. Edgeworth-dono was ruthless in his pursuit, and was not above using the skills of criminals and killers. What did it matter if Simon had been innocent, and the Phantom was guilty? In the eyes of the law, it was the same.
Just for Simon it was personal. Of course, it had always been personal. He just hadn’t known at the time. How would he have acted differently if he had known? Would he have killed the man? He certainly wouldn’t have kissed him.
Would he?
Simon came to the door, and realized that the chief prosecutor was there waiting in front of it for him. Simon had been so deep in thought, he had almost walked right into him. He came up short.
“Chief Prosecutor Edgeworth-dono.” He bowed his head. Edgeworth nodded to him. He looked tired, but well maintained. His hair was damp and smelled freshly washed, Simon noticed. “I’m glad to see you’re keeping well.”
“The same to you, Prosecutor Blackquill. We have quite a day ahead of us. Are you up to it? I need you to tell me now if you aren’t.” Edgeworth’s piercing gaze was searching, and there was something almost pleading in his voice. Simon’s instincts told him that someone had already let him down recently.
Simon closed his eyes. “I assure you I will serve your cause loyally, Edgeworth-dono, though it costs me life or honor.”
Simon’s eyes flew open as he felt Edgeworth grip his shoulder tightly. Taka made a noise of protest.
“It had better not cost you your life,” Edgeworth said sternly, “or anyone else’s. I’m done with deaths on this case.”
Simon opened his mouth to point out that there was no way that Simon could reasonably assure that– but he bit his tongue. What the chief prosecutor needed now was strength, not hesitation.
“I understand, Edgeworth-dono. I will do my best to make sure that no one comes to harm. Even that one.” He snorted, and nodded toward the door, inside which the Phantom surely waited.
With a final squeeze, Edgeworth released his grip on Simon’s shoulder and nodded.
“I’m glad to hear it. Regarding him– Detective Halblicht– he’s still nervous about snipers, so keep that in mind.”
Simon smirked grimly. “Afraid of the specter of death that haunts him? Good, maybe it will keep him in line.”
“Perhaps,” Edgeworth agreed dubiously. “He seems interested in cooperating, but who knows. I wish I could have given you and Athena more time with him before– this. But it is what it is. The world does not move to our schedule.”
“It certainly does not.” Seven years had gone by at the slowest pace imaginable, and now the last handful of days seemed crammed together in a handful of hours.
“Speaking of keeping him in line, however,” Miles added, “I do have some tools to that effect, if you find that you require them.”
“Oh?” Simon raised an eyebrow, and Taka fluttered his wings as if in shared curiosity.
“The same tools that were used on you, until recently. Handcuffs, and an electric collar. I… don’t recommend you use both at once.”
Their eyes met for a moment as the ridiculous notion played out in both their imaginations.
“Obviously,” Simon drawled. “But I was under the impression that ‘Detective Halblicht’ was meant to be a free man.”
“Notionally,” Miles agreed. “However, this circumstance is far outside of– and far sooner than– what we were discussing when the terms were first arrived at. Allowances can be made. Stories can be crafted.”
Simon closed his eyes for a moment. There was a dark part of him that savored the idea of shocking a miserable Phantom every time he put a toe out of line, or tugging at one arm of his cuffs.
He knew it was a dark part of him. He put it away. He would not stoop to that level.
“Give me the tools. We’ll see if I need them.”
Miles nodded. “Alright. Is there anything else you want clarified before– we go in?”
Simon considered. “You said that we’d be briefed in Cauli by the agents and detectives there, and that you wanted us to treat the investigation as closely to how we would any other case, correct?”
“That’s right,” he agreed. “Detective Gumshoe, and Forensic Investigator Skye are also coming along to assist with the investigation, and I am waiting to hear about several others who may be assisting.”
“Heh. Big team, then,” Simon observed.
“It’s a big case, Blackquill.”
“It certainly is. Skye and Gumshoe– are they aware of the situation with… ‘Halblicht’?”
“Gumshoe is aware. Skye is not currently. I’ll leave that up to your discretion whether to inform her, or maintain his cover.”
“Understood.” Maintain the Phantom’s cover for him. What a bizarre idea to entertain. Though maybe it would be interesting to see if the forensics expert figured it out anyway. A test of her skills. “Anything else I should be aware of?”
“Interpol Agent Sam Kelso will be meeting you at the airport. The agent who followed the spy on his flight back to Cauli– I native to the region as well, I believe.”
“Very well. Then I’m ready.”
December 23, 6:35 am
After two days chained to the bed, they’d finally been released. No-one had been chained up before for far longer of course, but it was still nice to have both hands free. Bobby, on the other hand, was still whining about it, and kept reaching to rub their wrist.
It’s awful how much Simon’s wrists must have hurt being chained up so much for so long. Do you think he’s still hurting?
He probably has other things on this mind, Bobby. But if you really want to know– just look at his wrists. If they’re hurting, he’ll probably have bandaged them.
Outside in the hall, they heard low voices. Edgeworth and Simon no doubt, discussing his fate, and the case ahead.
I still can’t believe Mr. Edgeworth is giving me– us– our badge back. And sending us out of the country. This soon? It’s like a miracle.
No, Bobby. It’s more like a trap. Either that or he’s more desperate than I can possibly imagine. No rational man would earnestly rely on the skills of an enemy agent this soon after capture. Something’s up.
Are you ever not suspicious? He gave Simon a second chance..
Simon had been in jail with good behavior for six years before that happened. And no, I’m never not suspicious. That’s why I lived as long as I did, and why you didn’t.
The rebuke stung Bobby and he went quiet, and sulky. It sent a wave of coldness through them that No-one didn’t like, and he almost regretted thinking it.
He put it out of his mind. Let Bobby sulk if he wanted. They didn’t have time to waste.
No-one picked up the hand mirror he’d been leant and looked himself over one more time. They’d let him quickly bleach his hair lighter, and he’d given it a trim– not too short, but shorter. He’d wanted to buzz it down, but Bobby had complained too much for him to do it.
He still thought they looked too much like Bobby Fulbright, but there was nothing to be done about it. It was probably him imagining things in any case.
And he wasn’t dressed like Bobby Fulbright, so that was something at least. Now he was in a black suit with gold pinstripes– still double breasted like his white suit, with two rows of large, black buttons– but this one was cut slim rather than wide and boxy, european style double vented, and with a peak lapel. There was a crisp yellow shirt under the jacket, and a black tie, and he had a gold colored silk square folded in his jacket pocket.
He slipped the amber sunglasses on, and glanced back and forth in the mirror again. They went nicely with the golden accents of the suit, so at least he wouldn’t have to replace them.
Though he worried they were a tell.
Come on, it’s a completely different look without the sideburns. I miss the sideburns…
And that’s exactly why we’re not growing any, Bobby. I look enough like you already for some damned reason. I grow the sideburns and people will be flagging me down on the street to ask if I’m Bobby Fulbright.
He fussed with the part of their hair, letting a little of it fall in front of their face, and he slipped on a pair of black gloves. Before Bobby’s thought could answer him,there was a loud click, and the door opened.
And there was Simon Blackquill, arms crossed and sneering, Taka at his side as usual.
December 23, 6:40 am
Simon stepped into the room, and what he saw inside made him forget himself for a moment. For an instant he forgot the whole bloody, gut wrenching business of the past 3 days.
For a moment it was just him. Just Fool Bright, and his idiotic flashy suits. A new idiotic flashy suit. It was slimming, and less abrasive than the stark white. And it looked good on him. And he looked better with his hair not so aggressively gelled backwards.
But the moment of appreciation didn’t last. Of course it didn’t. How could it?
There was no Fool Bright, there was just the Phantom. Just the man who had killed Metis Cykes.
And Simon was suddenly nothing but annoyed at how handsome he dared to look in his stupid, flashy suit.
“Tch.” Simon glowered at him. “You look like a gangster.”
“Oh! Uh, you think so? That’s not quite what I was going for, but I guess I’ll take it!” He boomed his big, stupid Bobby Fulbright laugh, and kept grinning. “I like your scarf!”
Simon found himself suddenly annoyed with the scarf too, and fidgeted with it. As he did, Taka flew off of his shoulder and went to roost on the Phantom.
“Aw, Taka! Sorry my friend, I’m afraid I don’t have any treats for you today!”
A terrible note of concern went through Simon.
“If you poison my bird, I swear–” he snapped, stepping forward.
The man startled and held his hands up with a seemingly guileless expression of surprise and horror.
“Simon! Why would I do that?”
He looked so hurt and so shocked that for a moment Simon felt guilty for even having the thought that he would. But of course, the Phantom had killed so many people in cold blood. The Phantom didn’t have an ounce of passion in his body. Just cold, calculating and murderous.
“I have no idea,” Simon sneered, crossing his arms. “After all, I know nothing about you– do I, hah– ‘detective’? My new partner, Halblicht, it seems. When Edgeworth-dono said that he was going to get me a caseload to prosecute, this wasn’t what I expected.”
“It’s not what I expected either,” ‘Halblicht’ replied. Suddenly he was all smooth and quiet again, and that rankled Simon as much as his Bobby affect. Taka however, didn’t seem to mind. He was busy grooming the loose locks of the man’s hair.
The moment hung in the air until Simon broke it.
“Well– expected or not, I hope you’re ready for it, ‘Halblicht’. If you think for one moment that I’m going to go easy on you, or let you out of my sight then you are sorely mistaken.”
“Not at all, Mr. Blackquill. I’d expect nothing less.” Halblicht watched him with cool, clear blue eyes tinted green by his sunglass lenses.
Simon felt an involuntary shudder go through himself. He strode forward, and pressed two wingers hard into the other man’s chest, his face near to his.
“Listen to me. Whatever you call yourself. Bobby, or Robert. Fulbright, or Halblicht, or Phantom. I may not know you, but you know me. And you know that I take my debts very seriously. I owe a debt to Edgeworth-dono for having given me a chance to prosecute last year. Now he has asked me to repay him by putting me in charge of you. I take that very seriously, no matter what else has passed between us. Ask me what that means.”
“What does that mean?” A trace of something– some emotion– broke through the phantom’s even affect, and Simon wondered if it was real, because he couldn’t identify it.
“It means, Half Wit, that just as you once falsely declared that you were going to reform me, I declare here and now, in all sincerity, that I will see you reformed. In the name of Edgeworth-dono’s honor, and for the sake of my own ‘justice’.”
Simon stared him down, looking for any kind of flicker of a reaction from him, anything that broke the mask for even a fraction of a second.
And there was something. Some flicker of emotion there in his eyes, and the edge of his mouth. And its presence distracted Simon long enough to be taken completely off guard for what happened next.
Halblicht broke into an enormous smile and pulled Simon into an equally enormous bear hug.
“Simon! You do care!”
December 23, 6:45 am
Miles waited out in the hallway while Blackquill said his piece to the newly minted Halblicht. He fidgeted idly with his phone, checking for texts from his assistant Faraday, or an answer from Apollo Justice.
This whole thing might have been a bad idea. Four hours of sleep later, and he was thinking a little straighter, his logic and reasoning back on an almost level playing field. Sure, he’d used Blackquill as a pawn in his pursuit of the Phantom, but now using the Phantom as a pawn to catch his own masters? And only three days after his own arrest?
Miles rubbed his temples. He should have gotten some sleep. He should have waited until Phoenix was sober and asked him again. Instead, here he was taking this gamble. What had he been thinking?
And it was a risky gamble. Either it would pay off in a checkmate, or it would completely ruin his game– everything he’d set up might crumble out from under him.
It was a risk even putting Blackquill and the Phantom in the same room together.
Lady justice help him, if Miles had known what would happen he never would have assigned ‘Fulbright’ to watch over Simon when he’d pulled him into the investigation. He’d wanted to use Blackquill to flush out the Phantom– but not like that.
There had been signs. Not the kind most people would notice, but Miles was not most people. Information entered his brain, and was arranged logically to deliver a deductive picture.
Sometimes, when Fulbright was in Blackquill’s cell the cameras would mysteriously malfunction.
Sometimes after a trial, Fulbright would report to work with the edge of a bruise visible over the collar of his shirt.
Blackquill had often stood unnecessarily close to Fulbright, even with the consideration of having been cuffed to him.
Yes, it painted a deductive picture, alright. One similar to the picture that Miles was often concerned that people would put together regarding him and Phoenix Wright.
If Blackquill and Fulbright had secretly been lovers– and Edgeworth strongly suspected they had– then the amount of pain, heartbreak and betrayal that Blackquill was going through must be ten times what anyone else would have guessed. And still, Miles was putting him through it. It made him feel like a bastard, and worse, it made him worry his gamble might fall through.
On the other hand, if they were lovers, and if any shred of his ‘Bobby Fulbright’ persona was real– as Athena seemed to suspect might be the case– then that bond between them might be exactly what kept that Phantom from another betrayal. It might be exactly what tipped the balance of the investigation toward thier side.
Miles would just have to wait and see.
He checked his phone again as he waited. He wondered whether it was too early– or too late– to call Phoenix and talk things out.
He was not prepared for the silence of the corridor to be split by a sudden scream.
Miles rushed into the room, his heart dropping into the pit of his stomach. He had known this was a bad idea. He was an idiot. A moron. Stupider than Wright. Stupider than Larry–
He expected to see blood. A body on the ground.
Instead, in the small hospital room, he saw the phantom with his hands up, apologizing profusely.
While Simon, his eyes on fire, held the point of a wooden sword to the man’s throat. Taka had flown to rest on the empty bed, watching with interest.
“G-gentlemen?” Miles interjected, his voice horse. “Is there a problem?”
Simon’s tense shoulders relaxed, and he stepped backward, taking the wooden sword with him and sheathing it at his side. He adjusted his collar and shirt.
“No problem, Edgeworth-dono,” he hissed.
The Phantom gave Miles a pleading, apologetic look– which was suddenly smothered by a lack of emotion. He, too, smoothed his suit.
“It’s my fault. I don’t know what came over me. It won’t happen again.”
Miles looked between the two men again.
Slowly, he asked the pair of them– “What won’t happen again?”
There was a moment of quiet, and suddenly Simon was turning pink at the edges of his cheeks.
Blackquill coughed. “He hugged me.”
Ah.
Well. There was Miles’ answer.
This was going to be a long, delicate case. But maybe they could close it after all.
“I see,” Miles nodded, as if there was nothing strange about it. “well– you two need to be at the airport in 2 hours, so let’s try not to waste any more time.”