Chapter Text
Being the Chief of Justice was not an easy task. Neuvillette had known of its burden and the weight that came with it when he accepted the mantle of the position. He was expected to be the embodiment of justice—stoic, unshakable, a symbol of the Fontaine justice system. His judgement had to be precise, unwavering, and fair with each case that was presented before him.
Naturally, this often meant working long nights.
Most evenings, he would find himself sitting alone at his desk with only the faint glow of his desk lamp keeping him company as he worked long after the courthouse had emptied and the bustle of the nightlife filled the streets.
A workaholic, his secretary would call him. Though, he supposed he couldn’t fault Sedene for it.
Neuvillette sighed softly as he set his pen down. He pinched the bridge of his nose, his fingers moving to massage his temple in an attempt to clear the growing haze from his eyes.
Outside, the sound of rain began tapping softly against the window of his office, like a polite guest waiting for entry.
For a moment, he leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, listening to the rain’s steady rhythm against the window. Coincidentally enough, it always seemed to rain whenever he was the judge on the bench.
He didn’t mind the rain, in fact, he found himself quite fond of it since he was a child. He even started to entertain the idea that it was as if the rain was washing away the sins from the trials. A way to soften the edges of the world once more.
Neuvillette opened his eyes and looked back at the pile of files strewed across his desk before briefly turning his gaze to the window, his eyes flickering upwards towards the dark sky.
“It would be best to head home now…” Neuvillette murmured. And if the ever darkening sky wasn’t enough, the low rumble of thunder that followed signaled the beginning of a storm.
It seems he would have to finish looking over these case files at a later date if he did not wish to be caught in the downpour.
With practiced hands, Neuvillette swiftly gathered the files before arranging them into a neat stack, setting them aside with care. Satisfied, he moved to reach for his briefcase, his hand had wrapped around its handle before pausing. Hesitantly, he looked back at his desk.
After a moment, he reached for the top third file and gingerly pulled it out, careful to not disturb the pile. A gloved finger brushed against the slightly worn edges as he stared at the file for a long moment.
Then, without giving himself the luxury to second guess himself, he hurriedly slipped the file into his briefcase.
As Neuvillette made his way towards the door, he swiftly grabbed his long coat from the nearby rack and slipped it on, making sure to smooth out any wrinkles that had formed during its disuse.
The journey down the now dim halls of the empty courthouse was silent, only the echoes of his footsteps and the rain echoed the halls.
The moment he opened the doors of the courthouse, the rain greeted him, clinging to his coat despite the shield of his umbrella. As he made his way down the long stairs and through the streets of Fontaine, the buzz and bustle of the streets were at an all time high.
By the time he reached the entrance of his high-rise, the storm had begun to intensify, and Neuvillette couldn’t help but be relieved that his living quarters were stationed nearby. The doorman greeted him with a polite nod, a gesture that Neuvillette returned in kind, flashing a small smile in response as he stepped into the elevator.
The ride up was quiet, aside from the classical music that played. With a ding, the door slid open, and he bid good night to the bellman before stepping into the corridor that led to his apartment.
Unlocking the door, Neuvillette stepped into his apartment and flicked on the lights, being greeted with a familiar silence.
Making his way to the kitchen, he fixed himself a glass of water, the refrigerators hum breaking the silence. Taking it with him, he entered the living room and sat down on the sofa, opening his briefcase with his free hand.
Sliding out the file, he opened it, and upon looking over its content, Neuvillette let out a deep sigh.
“Perhaps this isn’t the best idea after all…” He whispered, his hands tracing over the documents title.
“Adoption Application Form” it read.
It was silly, really. The reason he had the form in the first place. It had started with nothing more than a passing comment at the annual Christmas party last year—the usual inquiries of marriage and family.
He didn’t have any immediate family and besides the occasional contact with his cousin, he had no other familia connection. Marriage didn't seem feasible, not with the demanding position he had. And dating wasn’t on the table either. The whole idea seemed like an indulgence he couldn’t afford. An indulgence he didn’t deserve.
And yet, after the party, he dared to think that maybe, just maybe, he could make a home. If not for him, then for someone else.
Throughout the years of working as the Chief of Justice, he had seen the harsh realities that people were forced to live through. How it treated the weak and defenseless. And the children. Especially the children whose lives had been uprooted by misfortune and tragedy.
He had the resources and the stability to make at least one life better. But whenever he finally thought he gathered the courage to fill out the form, he couldn’t help but doubt himself. How could someone like him be able to provide a warm home for a child? Yes, he adored children, but Neuvillette knew he was stoic and reserved. He has seen the way the children would glance at him warily, afraid by his stoic appearance.
Neuvillette let out an exhausted sigh and closed the file. Leaning back into the plush sofa, he turned to look out the window to watch the city lights be blurred by the downpour.
“Maybe tomorrow…” Neuvillette whispered softly, closing his eyes and letting the rain soothe his thoughts.
[WARNING. BREACH DETECTED.]
The automated voice system echoed through the hall, the warning repeating over and over again. Sirens flashed through the dim halls of the laboratory, coloring the once gray walls a vibrant red.
The hurried sound of footsteps echoed through corridors as soldiers scrambled to the area of the breach. Suddenly, the voice system crackled, interrupting the broadcast and being replaced with a frantic voice.
“C-Code Sapphire! Sector Four has been compromised! I repeated! Sector Four has been com-”
The transmission was suddenly cut to static, along with the cameras and lights spluttered before falling dark. With only the siren lights lighting the way, three small figures slipped through the halls, dancing through the shadows and avoiding their pursuers.
The sound of a vent cover crashed onto the floor, the noise drowned by the yells and heavy boots of the soldiers and scientists.
By the time the emergency system came online, the rain had come, pattering softly at first against the facility before engulfing it completely. And almost like a veil, the rain washed away their trail, allowing the three figures to disappear underneath the curtain of gray.