Work Text:
Adopting a young girl on a whim was perhaps not the smartest thing he had ever done, but Phoenix would not change it for the world.
For a week or so after his shining blunder, the office phone rang frequently, he had come close to throwing the damn thing in the toilet and drowning it. There was no way of knowing if it was an intrusive reporter or an embarrassing smothering of pity from an old friend on the other line, so he just stopped bothering to pick up.
When things got rough, he had sold his apartment in order to make ends meet, and he and Trucy began living out of the office that once proudly bore his name on the frosted glass of the front door. The closet that once held reams upon reams of paper was emptied and replaced with cans of soup and blue-box instant macaroni and cheese, and the break room was adapted into a liveable kitchen to the best of his ability. Mia’s desk – his desk, he supposed, – was shoved into the corner in order to make space for Trucy’s bed, seeing as he didn’t have much use for it anymore. The props that had once been organized on the shelves in her room from her bio father’s house now littered the foyer, sometimes acting as furniture itself.
Detective Gumshoe had dropped it off on their doorstep for them after their final investigation. Phoenix wouldn’t open the door for anyone .
And as if the fashionable ‘magician chic’ vibe they had going on wasn’t the height of décor, an old beach towel was now taped over the door, and over the windows facing the gatewater. All it would take for someone to get a photo of his child would be to rent out the hotel room just across the way. It had happened before, and it could happen again. He didn’t want Trucy to be forced into the scathing limelight of public attention for something Zak had done. Something he had done.
God, how could he be so stupid?
The knocking on the door didn’t ever seem to stop. Reporter after reporter after reporter staked out his building to catch “the true scoop” from the fallen attorney, he who challenged God and survived the kings of the system, finding himself to be an unstoppable force that yielded not to the obstacles of any mortal man; only to fall so far in the end.
That’s how they were portraying him now, his face on the front page of every newspaper and the enemy of any person with a television set. Crooked, unjust, and hypocritical.
Eventually the knocking stopped, but he swore he could still hear it echoing in his head. It was a reminder that stepping outside of the office for too long could be a death sentence, for himself and for his daughter. He stopped dressing like a sham, and adopted a more inconspicuous look: Trucy found a beanie from his college days and decorated it for him as a gift for being her new Daddy.
He stopped crying after she went to bed. He stopped bothering to shave.
He stopped, for all intents and purposes, being Phoenix Wright.
After a particularly taxing grocery run, he was watching Trucy practice a trick and applauding appropriately when there was a hammering at the door. She looked up at him, scared. It wasn’t just in his head this time.
“Phoenix Wright! You will open this door!”
He recognized the voice, but he couldn’t bring himself to move from his place on the couch.
“Phoenix Wright you - ! You fool!”
The door rattled on its hinges as the visitor - if she could even be called that - hammered her fist against the frame again. He gave Trucy a reassuring smile to allay the confusion and unease in her expression.
The door came off its hinges with a swift kick from the outside. Its assailant thrashed her whip in frustration, the loud crack startling Trucy so badly she spilled all of the cards from her hand. Phoenix barely even flinched, and lazily turned his head to shoot the incensed young woman before him an apathetic look, which only seemed to further set her jaw.
Her eyes landed on the little magician, scrambling to collect her deck like a gullible child in a game of “52-card pickup”, and her tirade halted in its tracks.
She slowly found her voice again. “Is this… ”
Franziska von Karma; Ms. Genius Prosecutor Successor to Manfred von Karma; God's Gift to Prosecutors , was at a complete loss for words.
“Trucy,” he said slowly, “This is Franziska von Karma, one of Daddy’s old... colleagues .”
Franziska remained rooted to the spot.
“Please don’t worry, she isn’t going to hurt you,” he added with a small smile. “Why don’t you go to your room? Daddy and Ms. Von Karma are going to chat.”
Trucy refused to move, planting herself in front of her father and staring down the stranger in her living room.
“I need to make a call,” Franziska announced, turning swiftly on her heel and wandering into the kitchenette.
Phoenix rolled his eyes. “Make yourself at home, I guess.”
He finally stood up to close the front door and ruffled Trucy’s hair along the way.
He could overhear that Franziska was grumbling in frustration to the person on the other side of the phone call, and practically wearing a hole in the laminate flooring. The click clack of her heels was oddly reminiscent of the constant thrumming through his skull. With a final nod and the violent shove of her phone into her skirt pocket, she approached Phoenix with a speed someone in uncomfortable shoes should not have been able to possess and jammed a finger into his chest.
“You.” She growled. “Start packing for yourself or I will do it for you. ”
She turned to Trucy and took a shuddering breath, lowering herself stiffly to one knee.
“Miss Wright, can you show me to your room? We can pack a bag for you too, for a little vacation.”
“I - We are not going anywhere, Franziska,” Phoenix asserted.
She stood and very patiently asked Trucy to head to her room once again, offering her an uncharacteristic smile to reassure her. His daughter nodded apprehensively, but must have deemed her safe, because she walked off to her makeshift room and closed the door.
Her smile transformed into something predatory, like the captivating lure of an anglerfish convincing him to let down his guard while the horrific maw of the beast waited just out of sight. He took a shaky breath and pulled his beanie tighter around his head: a piece of armor before he begrudgingly trudged into battle.
“Phoenix Wright. You and your child will be coming with me to Europe, and you will be practicing cases with me to keep your mind sharp until your attorney’s badge is returned to you.”
“Franziska von Karma,” He sneered, “I didn’t invite you here. And I’m tired of everyone pretending that I deserve my badge back.”
She crossed her arms. He mimicked her stance. She ground her teeth in response.
“ Phoenix Wright. This is your last warning. I am being incredibly patient with you, and I am telling you to pack a bag and get in the car. As much as I loathe your methods, this is a mistake that will be resolved.”
“Patience? That’s rich, Franziska. We’re not going. I’m not a lawyer anymore, let it go.”
She didn’t dignify him with a reaction. Crossing the room in only a few strides, she yanked the coat closet open and took hold of the first suitcase that she saw, tugging until it came loose under a mountain of boxes and other miscellaneous items that spilled all over the floor. He reached to pull it from her but she refused to release her grip.
“Franziska, let go!”
Everything about Franziska was inflexible. Her attitude, her opinions, and most importantly her hold on the damn suitcase. It was apparent that she had no intention of stopping until she got her way.
What she didn’t seem to understand was that Phoenix couldn’t let go either. It wouldn’t be freeing to suddenly pick up and leave to ‘find himself’ in Europe. He wasn’t a coward.
He reasoned this, as a man exhausted by a single trip outside because every time he leaves the domain he has established as ‘safe’, he starts running purely on adrenaline, paranoid and ashamed of being noticed by anyone on the street.
She roared in frustration and yanked as hard as she could, and he made the decision to let go with ease so she would trip and fall backwards from excess momentum. Her head knocked into the wall behind her and hit the floor, immediately leaning forward to grip the afflicted area.
He swallowed the reflex to apologize. He isn’t that guy anymore, so he isn’t going to pretend to play the part.
They rested there in silence for a little while, Franziska slumped on the floor in pain and defeat and embarrassment, and Phoenix leaning on the opposite wall, feeling the slightest bit of guilty satisfaction.
Trucy still hadn’t come out from her room, but he suspected that she was listening by the door. He didn’t blame her in the slightest.
For lack of anything else to say, he looked toward the abandoned coat closet that had been torn apart. He put it on his mental checklist to clean later, but his gaze was redirected to Franziska at the sound of sniffling.
Excellent. Just great.
She slowly raised her head to look at him, and sure enough, her makeup was streaked in small, wet lines down her cheek.
“I wanted to help,” she spat wetly, “I wanted to do what I wished someone had done for me when he was convicted.”
She looked so small . She carried herself in a way that was so haughty, she reeked of self-sufficiency; he had forgotten that she wasn’t much older than nineteen. It occurred to him that although her request was naïve, she was just trying to help in the patented “tough-love” way she was accustomed to.
“Your daughter deserves a little time out of the public eye.” She swallowed thickly. “Please.”
She was trying to show him that she cared and he had responded by nearly concussing her. He slid to a seated position, defeated, and stared into his lap.
“The tickets are already purchased, two of them. I - You wouldn’t listen to anyone else or answer your phone, and I did what I had to do.”
The perfectly manicured hands wiping away her tears were shaking.
He wandered to the living room and back to hand her a tissue.
They retired to a contemplative silence.
Franziska slowly raised herself to her feet and made her way to the restroom, presumably to wash up. Trucy finally made herself known with little footsteps, and grabbed her dad’s hand as if to fill the gap left by...whatever that was.
He closed his eyes and let his skull strike the plaster behind him. His daughter tried to produce a rose from her sleeve to cheer him up.
Franziska returned with her usual air of confidence, looking as if no tussle had taken place, and the knocking of her heels on hardwood kept an even stride.
She steeled him with a stony stare: “Do not become your weaknesses, you foolish man,” She threatened. “You now have a legacy to uphold. You must decide now whether or not it will be defined by your past.”
Franziska cleared her throat and stepped delicately over the hodgepodge of toiletries that had been scattered everywhere. “The worst of times are when lawyers have to force their biggest smiles. Is that not the piece of wisdom that your mentor bestowed upon you? You would do well to contact her again. Or anyone outside of your immediate family, for that matter.”
She dropped a burner phone and a business card on a box by the front door, and grabbed the handle before halting.
“For your daughter’s sake - ” Her voice hitched slightly, and she paused.
“Let her see the outside world. It won’t do for her to be stuck inside studying all day.”
She disappeared. Phoenix’s heart was knocking at his chest.
“Trucy…Let’s go pack you a bag,” he said after a while, in a voice that didn’t seem like his own. “We’re going to go on our first vacation. As a family.”