Phoenix Wright - Atonement (complete)
Here's my Phoenix Wright fanfic, "Atonement", in its entirety. Any feedback is welcome.
Atonement
Spoilers for Trials and Tribulations, and Apollo Justice. Phoenix goes to visit Godot in prison.
The state penitentiary was a two hour train ride from the city. Phoenix didn’t know how long the journey was from Kurain Village. He admired Maya for making it every month.
This was his first visit.
It was a journey he’d never intended to make. He knew how cowardly that was, but the guilt he felt outweighed his shame. Only one thing was stronger than both of those feelings.
“Please go see him, Nick.”
During the handful of years he’d known her, he’d seen Maya grieving, in jail, on trial for murder, physically, mentally and emotionally exhausted. Yet somehow, propped up in bed with her arm in plaster, she looked more frail and vulnerable than any of those times.
“He doesn’t get any other visitors. Just because I fell off a ladder doesn’t mean he should be left up there alone.”
Phoenix opened his mouth to tell her no, but the words died on his lips. Before he could try again, Pearl fixed him with a glare.
“Mr. Nick! You’ll do this for Mystic Maya, won’t you?” Abruptly she looked downcast. “I’d go, but they won’t let me in.”
How could he refuse?
“Don’t worry, Pearls. You take care of Maya.” He looked at his friend. “I’ll take care of the visit.”
Phoenix leaned back in his seat, gazing out at the countryside zipping past. He wished the journey was shorter. He’d read the newspaper back and forth three times already. With nothing else to distract him, he found himself thinking about that case over and over again.
They’d won, sure, but for him it was a hollow victory. Looking at Maya, he could tell she felt the same way…and not just because her mother was the victim.
Godot was arrested after the trial. Phoenix had lingered in the defendant lobby, and watched him being led away between two police officers. They were almost out of sight when he saw the former prosecutor crumple. One of the cops shouted for a doctor. Then Edgeworth, of all people, grasped his arm and pulled him away from the door.
“Wright, let’s go.” Before Phoenix could protest, Edgeworth was leading him towards the exit.
“But -”
Edgeworth stared straight ahead. “There’s nothing you can do.”
Over the following days, Phoenix realised exactly what Edgeworth meant.
The Detention Center wasn’t the cheeriest place in the world at the best of times, but today it seemed particularly gloomy.
“Nick, what’s taking so long?” Maya asked. “Why do we have to wait?”
“I don’t know,” Phoenix replied uneasily. He hadn’t told her that he’d seen Godot collapse in the courthouse a day earlier. Detective Gumshoe had assured him that Godot had recovered and been taken to the Detention Center. Maybe he’d fallen ill again during the night.
Just as he was about to go and see what was causing the delay, Gumshoe poked his head around the door.
“Sorry about the wait, pal,” the detective said. “The doc’s with him. Seems he never got that wound treated.” He scratched his head nervously. “I’m guessing he argued that last case with a raging fever.”
“He’s all right, isn’t he?” Maya asked.
Gumshoe fidgeted and avoided her gaze.
“Yeah, sure,” he replied. “The good news is it should only be another five minutes. Just sit tight, okay, pal?”
“Okay.”
Gumshoe left. A few minutes later, the heavy silence was broken by the sound of the door on the other side of the glass opening. A guard entered the room, followed by Godot. His visor was missing, and a thick gauze bandage was plastered on his face, running from the bridge of his nose and under his left eye. Maya turned away when she saw that Godot was holding onto the police officer’s belt.
“Oh, Nick…” She put her hand over her mouth. “That’s horrible! He can’t see *at all*.”
“I’m pretty sure he can still hear us, Maya,” Phoenix warned.
“Oh…! You’re right,” Maya whispered back. She put on her ‘determined’ face. “We’ve gotta be strong for him, okay Nick?”
(You were the one feeling sorry for him,) Phoenix thought, but all he said was, “Okay, Maya. Let’s do this.”
The police officer guided Godot to the chair and then left the room. Phoenix watched as Godot grasped the back of the chair, felt for the table, and sat down. Phoenix cleared his throat.
“Go- Armando.”
“Wright?” Godot quickly turned his head to the left. “Is that you?”
“Y-yes.” Phoenix wondered if Godot’s hearing was all right. “Armando, I want to represent -”
“Of course you do,” Godot replied, facing towards him again. His gaze was unfocused; he seemed to be staring just past Phoenix, at some point on the wall behind him. “Go home, Wright. You’re wasting your time.”
Phoenix leaned forward. “I understand why you wouldn’t want to choose me after everything that’s happened, but -”
Godot shook his head, his maddeningly arrogant smirk appearing on his face. “That’s not what I meant, Wright. I plan to plead guilty.”
Phoenix couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “That - that’s crazy! Plead guilty to murder and - they’ll hang you!”
Godot just smiled. “I know.”
“Then let us help you!” Phoenix exclaimed. “We can show the court you had no choice.”
“I’ll testify,” Maya interrupted, fists clenched in determination. “I’ll tell everyone how you saved my life that night.”
Godot looked away again, this time to the right. “By killing your mother?”
Tears began to well up in Maya’s eyes. “She…she w-wasn’t…”
Phoenix cut her off. “Regardless, she was attempting to kill Maya and you had no choice but to stop her! You might not think that counts for anything, but it does.” Godot looked to the left again and Phoenix lost his temper. “Damn it, Armando, look at me!”
“I am.”
Godot’s words stopped Phoenix cold.
“W-what?”
“With the dregs of my eyesight,” Godot explained. “That unfashionable bright blue blur - that’s you. Sit down, Wright. Your partner’s upset.”
Phoenix sank back into his chair. Maya was choking back sobs, using her sleeve to scrub at her eyes. Ashamed of himself, Phoenix felt in his pockets for a handkerchief. He found one and pressed it into her hand.
“Now.” Godot’s smirk was gone, replaced by a frown. “I’ll say this just one more time, Wright. You’re wasting your time. I already have representation.” He reached into his waistcoat pocket and pinned something to his lapel. “My attorney and I are both agreed. At the trial tomorrow, I will plead guilty.”
Phoenix sagged in his chair. “But why?” he asked helplessly. “You - you can’t just give up. There are mitigating circumstances. We could win a lighter sentence. Or get them to drop the murder charge for a lesser offence. Why are you choosing death?”
Godot smirked again. “If you can’t figure that out…” He faced forward again, sightless eyes turned towards a spot between Phoenix and Maya. “…then you’re not the lawyer Mia thought you were.”
The words stung. Before Phoenix could react, Godot called the guard.
“This visit is over.”
“Your ticket, sir?”
The conductor’s voice jerked Phoenix out of his thoughts. He fumbled in his wallet and handed over his ticket. A cursory glance and a stamp, and the conductor gave it back to him.
Phoenix looked at his watch. Another thirty minutes to go, assuming the train was on-schedule. He gazed out the window again, hoping to find a clue as to where exactly they were, but all he could see was countryside. Every second, every length of railroad track brought him closer and closer to confronting what he’d tried to bury for the past eight months...
Maya was silent all the way home.
“That’s it,” she said despondently, as they reached the office. “If Mr. Armando won’t let us defend him, then there’s nothing more we can do…is there, Nick?”
Phoenix shook his head.
“There’s one last thing we can try,” he answered. “It’s like Mia used to tell me - we have to turn this around and look at it from a different angle.” He opened the door and let Maya inside. “Stay with Pearls. I’m going to the prosecutor’s office.”
“Wright, you know I can’t discuss that case with you.”
“Please, Edgeworth.” He tried to catch Edgeworth’s eye, but the other man wouldn’t look at him. “I’m asking you as a friend.”
Edgeworth winced and then relented. “Murder,” he replied. “Armando is being charged with murder.”
Phoenix slammed both hands down on the desk. “Edgeworth, you and I both know this wasn’t murder! Maya’s life was in danger! The only way he could stop it was to attack Misty Fey! That’s justifiable homicide - or manslaughter! Not murder.”
“And the rest?” Edgeworth was in his face. “He tampered with the crime scene, moved the body, enlisted an accomplice to establish a fake crime scene, and tried to frame somebody else for the killing. Wright, he didn’t even call an ambulance. Tell me how you’re going to argue those away.”
Phoenix wet his lips and blurted out, “Temporary insanity.”
Edgeworth made a dismissive noise, threw up his hands and turned away.
“Edgeworth, he saved Maya’s life!” Phoenix shouted. “He saved her life and I - I put a noose around his neck.”
“Stop it,” Edgeworth snapped. “He’s a lawyer, Wright. The second he started shovelling away that bloodstained snow, he knew that if the truth came out, he was finished. Armando put a noose around his own neck, and what’s more, he braided the rope himself!”
Phoenix lost his temper for the second time that day. He lunged at Edgeworth, barely registering the prosecutor’s look of fright as he dodged out of the way. “You…! A man’s life is on the line! How can you be so heartless and cruel?!”
“I’m not!”
Edgeworth grabbed Phoenix by his upper arms, short fingernails digging into the rough blue material of his suit. He relaxed his grip slightly and suddenly it was almost an embrace. All of Phoenix’s fight deserted him as Edgeworth’s expression changed to one of sadness. “I’m trying to tell you it’s not your fault.”
Phoenix’s eyes stung with tears. “Edgeworth…”
“Do you hear me, Nick?” Edgeworth whispered fiercely. “It’s not your fault.”
Edgeworth’s words hadn’t been much comfort at the trial the following day. For the first time in three years, Phoenix was relegated to the courtroom gallery. Godot stood at the defence bench, the light reflecting off his gold attorney’s badge. He was wearing his visor again, the bulky bandage from the previous day replaced by a thinner one. Winston Payne was practically humping the prosecutor’s bench. Finally, a case even he could win.
“The prosecution is ready, Your Honour.”
There was no reply from the defence, and as Phoenix looked down from the gallery, he saw why. Godot was holding a cup of coffee. Phoenix watched as Godot inhaled its fragrance, and took a sip.
The judge banged his gavel. “Mr. Armando! This is a court of law, not a coffee house.”
(You didn’t seem to mind when he was a prosecutor,) Phoenix thought bitterly. Not for the first time, he felt like the whole system was rigged.
“The defence begs the court’s indulgence, Your Honour,” Godot replied. “One last cup for a condemned man.”
A familiar expression of confusion appeared on the judge’s face. “Then… ” He frowned - yet another familiar sight. “Explain yourself at once!”
Godot ignored him and finished his drink. Phoenix slumped in his chair. (This is not happening! Why won’t he *fight*?)
“The defence pleads guilty to all charges, Your Honour.”
Winston Payne looked like he was going to have an accident. Phoenix buried his face in his hands, while around him the gallery erupted in astonished murmurings.
“You understand what a guilty plea means, Mr. Armando,” the judge said gravely.
“Yes.” Godot’s voice was calm - almost serene. There was a light smile on his face. Like it was just another day. Like he wasn’t signing his own death warrant.
“Very well.” The crack of the gavel rang out in the courtroom. “This court acknowledges a plea of ‘Guilty’ on behalf of the defendant, Mr. Diego Armando.” Phoenix stood up and began to edge past the other spectators, unable to bear it any longer, as the judge continued. “The defendant will be remanded in police custody until sentencing, one week from now.”
Phoenix got outside the courtroom and moved towards the wall. He pressed his knuckles to his eyes, trying to get a grip on himself.
“Wright?”
Phoenix looked up in surprise. “E-Edgeworth?” He cleared his throat and attempted to pull himself together. “I - I didn’t see you in there.”
Edgeworth looked away, nervously squeezing his arm.
“I was going to watch, but…I couldn’t bring myself to go inside,” he confessed. “What happened?”
“Armando just threw his life away,” Phoenix replied. He shook his head. “I know what he did was wrong, but…” He looked at his friend. “…intent’s got to count for something. Doesn’t it?”
Edgeworth looked at the floor. He seemed about to speak when the rest of the crowd came out of the courtroom.
“Imagine! He pleaded guilty - to murder, no less!”
“This time next year he’ll be swinging in the breeze.”
“Huh - more like five years’ time, the way the appeals process works!”
“I’m coming back next week for the sentencing. It always gives me chills!”
Phoenix sagged against the wall and rubbed a hand over his face. Tentatively, Edgeworth reached out and patted him on the shoulder.
“I could use a drink, Wright,” he suggested. “How about you?”
He couldn’t remember much else about that day, except Edgeworth driving him home at the end of the night. He hadn’t been able to bring himself to go to the sentencing - not even to support Maya, who insisted on going despite his pleas. He couldn’t stand the thought of seeing Godot standing in the dock, with that calm smile on his face, as the judge handed down the ultimate penalty. Maya’d been unusually quiet for a few days after that. When Godot was transferred from the Detention Center to the penitentiary to await execution, she started visiting him. Every month, without fail. Until now.
The train began to slow to a halt. Phoenix remained in his seat while around him other passengers stood up, gathering their belongings. People with places they actually wanted to be. The train stopped completely and Phoenix heaved a short sigh. No turning back now.
The shuttle to the prison was crowded, and Phoenix had to stand for the fifteen minute journey. At least keeping his balance and avoiding the armpits of the rather large gentleman standing uncomfortably close to him kept him occupied for the journey. As the prison loomed into view, his heart sank.
(I can’t believe I’m doing this.)
“All right, everybody off!”
Phoenix jumped down from the bus and joined the orderly queue formed by the other visitors. Two guards began to herd them all to the prison reception area. Phoenix shot sidelong glances at the other visitors. Most looked like family members and loved ones, but he picked out at least two defence attorneys. He suddenly felt very out of place.
He reached the top of the queue and stood patiently while a guard ran a metal detector over him.
“Name?” asked a second guard, seated at a desk.
“Phoenix Wright.” Phoenix took his visit authorisation card out of his pocket and handed it over.
The guard examined it and carefully copied the details into the visitors’ log.
“Name of prisoner?” he asked.
Phoenix had to check himself - he almost said ‘Godot’. “Diego Armando,” he replied.
“Mm-hm.” The guard turned the book to face him and indicated where he should sign. “Hospital wing.”
Phoenix gulped. “H-hospital?”
“Down there,” the guard replied, pointing at the corridor to Phoenix’s left.
With no other choice, Phoenix began to walk down the corridor. A knot of apprehension began to form in his stomach. The hospital wing… Was Godot seriously ill? Was he… dying? For a moment, Phoenix had an almost uncontrollable urge to turn back. He shook it off. He’d promised Maya, and he’d promised Pearl. He wouldn’t renege on that, no matter what was waiting for him. Phoenix steeled himself as best he could, and continued on.
He entered the room at the end of the corridor, and at first he thought he was in the wrong place. There were no glass partitions, just half a dozen large blue tables, arranged neatly in two rows of three. The place was deserted except for a guard sitting at a desk near the door.
“Uh… hello?”
The guard glanced up and Phoenix approached the desk.
“Um, I’m Phoenix Wright, I’m here to visit a prisoner,” Phoenix explained. He handed over his visit authorisation card. “Diego Armando?” The guard studied his authorisation card disinterestedly and Phoenix found himself rambling. “They, they told me to come down here, so…”
“Mr. Wright…” The guard pointed to the far left corner of the room with her pen. “Third table on the left. Sit at the spot marked ‘V’. If you attempt to pass anything to the prisoner, or attempt to make physical contact with the prisoner, you will be arrested and charged with an offence. ‘Making physical contact’ includes spitting on or at the prisoner. Do you understand?”
(What kind of guy does she think I am?!) Phoenix wondered. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Good.” The guard stared at him coldly. “I’m watching you.”
Phoenix walked to the end of the room, glancing over his shoulder at the guard as he went. She was, indeed, watching him closely. He reached the third table on the left. A small label marked ‘V’ was stuck to the table in front of one of the chairs - the one with its back to the rest of the room. (So the visitor has somewhere to go if the prisoner gets violent,) Phoenix realised. He took his seat and gazed around the room while he waited. It was windowless, and there was a second door in the top left-hand corner of the room. Phoenix figured that it must be where they brought the prisoners in. He tried to relax. Hospital wing or not, Godot must be at least well enough to walk.
At last, the door opened and Godot entered the room, with a guard on one side. The knot in Phoenix’s stomach tightened. It was so strange to see the formerly stylish prosecutor in a prison uniform and grey sneakers fastened by velcro straps. Yet he carried himself the same as always - shoulders back, head cocked. All that was missing was a cup of coffee in his hand.
The guard shadowed Godot to the table. A cocky grin spread across Godot’s face as his gaze fell on Phoenix. He pulled the second chair back from the table while the guard watched.
“Out to the mark, Armando, you know that.”
Godot complied and slid into his seat. The guard moved to the right where he could see the tabletop between them, and backed up about ten feet, nightstick at the ready.
“Both of you, keep you hands above your waists where I can see ’em,” he barked.
Phoenix rested his arms on the table. Godot tucked his hands into his armpits and kept grinning.
“Phoenix Wright,” he remarked. “I almost didn’t recognise you without that cheap suit.” Phoenix wished suddenly that he’d at least worn a shirt and tie. “Though I can’t say your current outfit is much better.”
(Yeah, and those prison stripes are just the height of fashion.) “Maya sends her apologies,” Phoenix explained. “She couldn’t make it this month. She had an accident.”
Godot’s grin disappeared and he leaned forward a little, both hands on the desk.
“What happened?”
“Don’t worry, she’s okay,” Phoenix assured him. “She just fell off a stepladder. She broke her arm but she’ll be just fine.” Godot seemed to relax and Phoenix continued. “The doctors don’t want her moving around too much yet.”
Godot nodded. “So you volunteered to come in her place?” he asked with a smirk.
Phoenix rubbed the back of his neck. “Something like that,” he said sheepishly.
Godot tucked an arm around his waist and stroked the side of his visor with his other hand. “It’s been a long time, Wright.”
“Yeah,” Phoenix replied uncomfortably. He crossed his arms and looked away. “I’m sorry. I - I should’ve come to see you before - ”
“Don’t apologise,” Godot interrupted. “I didn’t expect anyone to come see me, much less you.” He grinned briefly, dropping his hand to the table. “That first month, when they told me Maya was here…” He looked up at Phoenix. “How is she, Wright? How is she, really?”
“She - she’s good,” Phoenix replied, unable to admit they didn’t work together any more. “Maya’s pretty strong. She’s taking it in her stride, just like she always does.”
Godot nodded.
“She’s an incredible young woman,” he remarked. “To forgive me for what I’ve done… that takes a lot of character.” Godot shifted position, folding his hands on the table. “She even channelled Mia for me… just once, so I could say goodbye.” He looked away, covering his mouth with his left hand. “That was…”
“Yeah,” Phoenix replied nervously, trying to think of a way to change the subject. He didn’t think he could handle it if Godot started to cry. And he didn’t really want to think about Mia, or what she’d think of him right now, after everything that had happened.
Godot cleared his throat, sat back up and tucked his hands under his armpits again.
“I keep telling Maya not to come here any more,” he said quietly.
“Wh-why?” Phoenix asked in surprise. “She said she was your only visitor.”
“She has a chance to put all this behind her and move on with her life,” Godot replied. “Something I couldn’t do. The aftertaste of that bitter cup I swallowed was too strong. It soured me inside. It’s no way to live.”
“It’s because of you that she has a life to move on with!” Phoenix exclaimed. “She couldn’t just leave you to rot up here alone. Why can’t you understand that?”
An uncomfortable silence descended between them. Godot leaned back in his seat and ran a hand through his hair. Phoenix noticed that Godot’s white mane was damp and sweaty. In fact, a fine sweat was beading all over his face, even though the room was air-conditioned.
“Armando, are you all right?”
Godot looked at him in puzzlement for a few moments before understanding dawned. “Oh. You mean this?” He swept the sweat from his cheek. “That’s normal for me… now.” He smirked. “Guess it’s not so noticeable from across a courtroom, eh Wright?”
“N-no,” Phoenix answered absently. Godot’s hand movement had drawn his attention to the Medic Alert bracelet he wore, no longer hidden beneath a stylish teal shirt. The sleeves of his prison uniform ended just above the elbow, exposing five years’ worth of IV scars on the inside of each joint. (It could’ve been me,) Phoenix thought suddenly. He felt sick. (And all because I was in the wrong place at the wrong time…)
“Wright?”
Godot began to lean forward, pulling up short when the guard cleared his throat. Phoenix looked up. “Huh?”
“What’s the matter?” Godot asked. “You look worse than three day old coffee.”
“N-nothing,” Phoenix lied. He tried to shake the bad thoughts off. “So… if you’re not sick, why are you in the hospital wing?”
Godot looked at his hands.
“I may be well, Wright,” he replied, “but I’m not… healthy.”
“Oh.” Phoenix looked at him in puzzlement. “I always thought they were the same thing…?”
Godot gave a bitter little smile.
“No healthy man needs three different drugs just to sit and talk to a friend,” he replied. “Or four to stand in court and argue a case.”
“I - I had no idea,” Phoenix confessed. “You always looked fine to me.”
“You never saw me after court was adjourned,” Godot remarked. He gazed at the table as he continued. “Every session left me so exhausted… even with seventeen cups of coffee in my system, I thought I could feel the coma winding its tendrils around my body, trying to drag me back into its bittersweet embrace.” A drop of clear liquid slid down his cheek from the edge of his visor, and Phoenix prayed that it was sweat. “To be thirty-three and feel a hundred years old is no joke.” Godot looked up suddenly, showing Phoenix his old cocky grin. “Still, it’s not something I’ll have to endure much longer.”
(…!)
“That’s -” Phoenix swallowed nervously. “That’s why you chose death, isn’t it? Because you couldn’t go on like this. You couldn’t live your life sick and in pain.”
Godot smirked and shook his head.
“If I wanted to drink that bitter cup, I could’ve done it before the trial,” he replied. “Do you remember when you came to the Detention Center?”
(How can I forget?) Phoenix could picture the scene right now…
“Your tie,” he said. “You were still wearing your tie.”
Godot looked at the table and smirked. “Very sloppy of the police officers.”
“Then - ” Phoenix frowned. “But you couldn’t have wanted to live. You wouldn’t have pleaded guilty to a murder charge.” He turned it over in his mind… and then it hit him.
(Mia.)
“You pleaded guilty… because you want to be with Mia,” Phoenix said slowly. “Because that’s all you have left.”
Godot nodded. The peaceful smile he’d worn on the day of his trial returned to his face.
“Getting to Hell is easy,” he said. “Someone else pours the cup and you gulp it down thoughtlessly, while your soul is stained by pride and anger. But to get to Heaven, you have to be ready. You have to atone.”
Phoenix nodded, understanding it all at last. “That’s why you wouldn’t let me try to save you - because the only person who could… is you.”
“That’s right… Wright.”
Phoenix fidgeted nervously as another awkward silence settled between them… or maybe he was the only one who thought it was awkward. He scratched the back of his neck.
“Gee, that got kinda heavy,” he remarked sheepishly.
Godot smirked. “You know, when I walked in here and saw you, I half-expected you to try to talk me into an appeal.”
“Nah,” Phoenix replied. “I hear you’ve already got a top defence attorney.” Godot’s smirk softened, and suddenly Phoenix decided to come clean. “Besides… I - I can’t practise law any more.” Godot gave him a questioning look and Phoenix mumbled, “I’ve been disbarred.”
Godot leaned back in his chair, tucked one arm across his waist, and stroked a finger along the top ridge of his visor.
“That’s too bad, Wright,” he said quietly. “A sad loss to the legal profession.”
(You wouldn’t say that if you heard the details…or at least the ones everyone else believes.) Phoenix tugged at a loose thread in his hoodie, unable to look Godot in the…visor.
“Still… you could always apply to the prosecutor’s office.”
Phoenix lifted his head in surprise. Godot’s old smirk reappeared on his face.
“You know,” he elaborated, “I heard that once, they hired a blind coma patient who refused to provide his real name.”
In spite of himself, Phoenix started to laugh.
“How did you get away with that?” he asked.
Godot chuckled. “I gave them a reference,” he explained. “A rookie prosecutor, a prodigy, I met during my last case as a defence attorney. I discovered that while I slept, he’d garnered quite a reputation.”
“Edgeworth?!” Phoenix asked incredulously. He leaned back in his chair, shaking his head in amazement. “He was your reference?! Didn’t anyone check that out?”
“Apparently not,” Godot replied. “But then, no-one bothered to look into Manfred von Karma’s perfect record, either - until you stirred everything up.”
Phoenix blushed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, well…” He wondered suddenly how many people would want to read about his old cases now, and decided to change the subject. “Hey, they keep Winston Payne around - even though he barely reads his case files.”
“Heh.” Godot tapped his finger on the table. “I felt somewhat slighted that the infamous ‘Rookie Killer’ didn’t recognise me. Slighted… but not surprised.”
Phoenix grinned and rubbed his arm. “You went up against him in court too, huh?”
Godot nodded. “My first trial as an attorney. He came to perform a baptism of fire, but instead I administered a scalding blessing of my own.”
(Why can’t you just say “I threw a cup of coffee at him”?) Phoenix thought in exasperation. The feeling of irritation melted away as quickly as it arose. (But then, I guess you wouldn’t be you if you didn’t wax poetic about coffee.)
“Of course,” Godot continued with a smirk, “at the time I didn’t realise that only a prosecutor can get away with such a ridiculous stunt.”
Phoenix smiled back, and was suddenly filled with a tremendous feeling of sadness. Godot tilted his head slightly and gave him a questioning look. “What’s wrong?”
Phoenix stared at the tabletop in front of him.
“I guess… I wish things could’ve been different,” he replied quietly. “That’s all.”
Godot leaned back, stroking his visor again. “It would’ve been something to work with you, Wright,” he remarked. “It really would.”
The guard nearby looked at his watch.
“All right, gents, wrap it up.”
“What?!” Phoenix protested. “We have five more minutes!”
“So use ‘em to wrap it up,” the guard barked.
Phoenix shot the guard a glare and then turned his attention back to Godot.
“I’ll come see you again,” he promised. “Count on it.”
Godot scratched at his beard. “I won’t be offended if you don’t,” he replied. “But there is something I’d like you to do.”
Phoenix nodded. “Anything.”
“When the time comes for me to slip into the deepest sleep of all…” Godot smiled wryly. “…pour out one cup of rich Columbian darkness, and drink it for me.”
Tears stung Phoenix’s eyes. “I will.”
Godot crossed his arms on the table and leaned forward slightly.
“Then, I want you to take these memories, file them away, and forget,” he said softly. “My soul is at peace, Wright. Don’t let my fate trouble yours.”
Phoenix couldn’t speak; couldn’t move. Godot pushed his chair back from the table and waited until the guard was standing next to him before he stood up. He shot Phoenix that maddening, arrogant smirk one more time.
“Adios, mi amigo.”
The guard led him out, and Phoenix watched him go through a haze of tears. Shoulders back, head up; he knew Godot would walk to the gallows that way too. Phoenix got up from the table and walked past the guard at the desk without saying a word.
He didn’t come out of his daze till he was back at the train station, sitting on a bench by the platform clutching a cardboard cup full of coffee.
(Seven Months Later)
The kitchen clock read five minutes to five. Phoenix gazed up at it as he waited for the kettle to boil. It was a long time since he’d been up so early… or home so late. On the table lay a stack of yellowing case files from the Grossberg law firm, ranging in age from seven to twelve years old.
The sun was up.
The kettle clicked off and Phoenix poured the scalding water into his mug, onto the brown powder already inside. Only instant - he couldn’t afford the good stuff these days. He knew that in Kurain Village, Maya was doing the same thing. Half an hour ago, in the condemned cell, someone had brewed some coffee too.
Phoenix watched the clock, blowing on his drink as the hands edged closer and closer to the hour.
At six a.m., as a trapdoor opened and a rope stretched taut, Phoenix raised his cup in a silent salute. He swallowed the first mouthful around a lump in his throat.
“Daddy?”
Trucy appeared in the doorway, rubbing her eyes. “What are you doing?”
“Nothing, Trucy,” Phoenix replied, setting his coffee aside. He picked her up and gave her a hug. “Go on back to bed. I’m just keeping a promise, that’s all.”
“Okay.” She padded sleepily out of the kitchen, and Phoenix picked up his mug again.
(One promise, at least.) He sipped the coffee slowly, breathing in its fragrance, and gazed at the files on the table. Crisp, new copies of them were stored at the office… every case ever argued by defence attorney Diego Armando.
(Sorry, Armando, but I won’t forget you. There’s no need. My soul is at peace, too.)
THE END
-^)--)~
Atonement
Spoilers for Trials and Tribulations, and Apollo Justice. Phoenix goes to visit Godot in prison.
The state penitentiary was a two hour train ride from the city. Phoenix didn’t know how long the journey was from Kurain Village. He admired Maya for making it every month.
This was his first visit.
It was a journey he’d never intended to make. He knew how cowardly that was, but the guilt he felt outweighed his shame. Only one thing was stronger than both of those feelings.
“Please go see him, Nick.”
During the handful of years he’d known her, he’d seen Maya grieving, in jail, on trial for murder, physically, mentally and emotionally exhausted. Yet somehow, propped up in bed with her arm in plaster, she looked more frail and vulnerable than any of those times.
“He doesn’t get any other visitors. Just because I fell off a ladder doesn’t mean he should be left up there alone.”
Phoenix opened his mouth to tell her no, but the words died on his lips. Before he could try again, Pearl fixed him with a glare.
“Mr. Nick! You’ll do this for Mystic Maya, won’t you?” Abruptly she looked downcast. “I’d go, but they won’t let me in.”
How could he refuse?
“Don’t worry, Pearls. You take care of Maya.” He looked at his friend. “I’ll take care of the visit.”
Phoenix leaned back in his seat, gazing out at the countryside zipping past. He wished the journey was shorter. He’d read the newspaper back and forth three times already. With nothing else to distract him, he found himself thinking about that case over and over again.
They’d won, sure, but for him it was a hollow victory. Looking at Maya, he could tell she felt the same way…and not just because her mother was the victim.
Godot was arrested after the trial. Phoenix had lingered in the defendant lobby, and watched him being led away between two police officers. They were almost out of sight when he saw the former prosecutor crumple. One of the cops shouted for a doctor. Then Edgeworth, of all people, grasped his arm and pulled him away from the door.
“Wright, let’s go.” Before Phoenix could protest, Edgeworth was leading him towards the exit.
“But -”
Edgeworth stared straight ahead. “There’s nothing you can do.”
Over the following days, Phoenix realised exactly what Edgeworth meant.
The Detention Center wasn’t the cheeriest place in the world at the best of times, but today it seemed particularly gloomy.
“Nick, what’s taking so long?” Maya asked. “Why do we have to wait?”
“I don’t know,” Phoenix replied uneasily. He hadn’t told her that he’d seen Godot collapse in the courthouse a day earlier. Detective Gumshoe had assured him that Godot had recovered and been taken to the Detention Center. Maybe he’d fallen ill again during the night.
Just as he was about to go and see what was causing the delay, Gumshoe poked his head around the door.
“Sorry about the wait, pal,” the detective said. “The doc’s with him. Seems he never got that wound treated.” He scratched his head nervously. “I’m guessing he argued that last case with a raging fever.”
“He’s all right, isn’t he?” Maya asked.
Gumshoe fidgeted and avoided her gaze.
“Yeah, sure,” he replied. “The good news is it should only be another five minutes. Just sit tight, okay, pal?”
“Okay.”
Gumshoe left. A few minutes later, the heavy silence was broken by the sound of the door on the other side of the glass opening. A guard entered the room, followed by Godot. His visor was missing, and a thick gauze bandage was plastered on his face, running from the bridge of his nose and under his left eye. Maya turned away when she saw that Godot was holding onto the police officer’s belt.
“Oh, Nick…” She put her hand over her mouth. “That’s horrible! He can’t see *at all*.”
“I’m pretty sure he can still hear us, Maya,” Phoenix warned.
“Oh…! You’re right,” Maya whispered back. She put on her ‘determined’ face. “We’ve gotta be strong for him, okay Nick?”
(You were the one feeling sorry for him,) Phoenix thought, but all he said was, “Okay, Maya. Let’s do this.”
The police officer guided Godot to the chair and then left the room. Phoenix watched as Godot grasped the back of the chair, felt for the table, and sat down. Phoenix cleared his throat.
“Go- Armando.”
“Wright?” Godot quickly turned his head to the left. “Is that you?”
“Y-yes.” Phoenix wondered if Godot’s hearing was all right. “Armando, I want to represent -”
“Of course you do,” Godot replied, facing towards him again. His gaze was unfocused; he seemed to be staring just past Phoenix, at some point on the wall behind him. “Go home, Wright. You’re wasting your time.”
Phoenix leaned forward. “I understand why you wouldn’t want to choose me after everything that’s happened, but -”
Godot shook his head, his maddeningly arrogant smirk appearing on his face. “That’s not what I meant, Wright. I plan to plead guilty.”
Phoenix couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “That - that’s crazy! Plead guilty to murder and - they’ll hang you!”
Godot just smiled. “I know.”
“Then let us help you!” Phoenix exclaimed. “We can show the court you had no choice.”
“I’ll testify,” Maya interrupted, fists clenched in determination. “I’ll tell everyone how you saved my life that night.”
Godot looked away again, this time to the right. “By killing your mother?”
Tears began to well up in Maya’s eyes. “She…she w-wasn’t…”
Phoenix cut her off. “Regardless, she was attempting to kill Maya and you had no choice but to stop her! You might not think that counts for anything, but it does.” Godot looked to the left again and Phoenix lost his temper. “Damn it, Armando, look at me!”
“I am.”
Godot’s words stopped Phoenix cold.
“W-what?”
“With the dregs of my eyesight,” Godot explained. “That unfashionable bright blue blur - that’s you. Sit down, Wright. Your partner’s upset.”
Phoenix sank back into his chair. Maya was choking back sobs, using her sleeve to scrub at her eyes. Ashamed of himself, Phoenix felt in his pockets for a handkerchief. He found one and pressed it into her hand.
“Now.” Godot’s smirk was gone, replaced by a frown. “I’ll say this just one more time, Wright. You’re wasting your time. I already have representation.” He reached into his waistcoat pocket and pinned something to his lapel. “My attorney and I are both agreed. At the trial tomorrow, I will plead guilty.”
Phoenix sagged in his chair. “But why?” he asked helplessly. “You - you can’t just give up. There are mitigating circumstances. We could win a lighter sentence. Or get them to drop the murder charge for a lesser offence. Why are you choosing death?”
Godot smirked again. “If you can’t figure that out…” He faced forward again, sightless eyes turned towards a spot between Phoenix and Maya. “…then you’re not the lawyer Mia thought you were.”
The words stung. Before Phoenix could react, Godot called the guard.
“This visit is over.”
“Your ticket, sir?”
The conductor’s voice jerked Phoenix out of his thoughts. He fumbled in his wallet and handed over his ticket. A cursory glance and a stamp, and the conductor gave it back to him.
Phoenix looked at his watch. Another thirty minutes to go, assuming the train was on-schedule. He gazed out the window again, hoping to find a clue as to where exactly they were, but all he could see was countryside. Every second, every length of railroad track brought him closer and closer to confronting what he’d tried to bury for the past eight months...
Maya was silent all the way home.
“That’s it,” she said despondently, as they reached the office. “If Mr. Armando won’t let us defend him, then there’s nothing more we can do…is there, Nick?”
Phoenix shook his head.
“There’s one last thing we can try,” he answered. “It’s like Mia used to tell me - we have to turn this around and look at it from a different angle.” He opened the door and let Maya inside. “Stay with Pearls. I’m going to the prosecutor’s office.”
“Wright, you know I can’t discuss that case with you.”
“Please, Edgeworth.” He tried to catch Edgeworth’s eye, but the other man wouldn’t look at him. “I’m asking you as a friend.”
Edgeworth winced and then relented. “Murder,” he replied. “Armando is being charged with murder.”
Phoenix slammed both hands down on the desk. “Edgeworth, you and I both know this wasn’t murder! Maya’s life was in danger! The only way he could stop it was to attack Misty Fey! That’s justifiable homicide - or manslaughter! Not murder.”
“And the rest?” Edgeworth was in his face. “He tampered with the crime scene, moved the body, enlisted an accomplice to establish a fake crime scene, and tried to frame somebody else for the killing. Wright, he didn’t even call an ambulance. Tell me how you’re going to argue those away.”
Phoenix wet his lips and blurted out, “Temporary insanity.”
Edgeworth made a dismissive noise, threw up his hands and turned away.
“Edgeworth, he saved Maya’s life!” Phoenix shouted. “He saved her life and I - I put a noose around his neck.”
“Stop it,” Edgeworth snapped. “He’s a lawyer, Wright. The second he started shovelling away that bloodstained snow, he knew that if the truth came out, he was finished. Armando put a noose around his own neck, and what’s more, he braided the rope himself!”
Phoenix lost his temper for the second time that day. He lunged at Edgeworth, barely registering the prosecutor’s look of fright as he dodged out of the way. “You…! A man’s life is on the line! How can you be so heartless and cruel?!”
“I’m not!”
Edgeworth grabbed Phoenix by his upper arms, short fingernails digging into the rough blue material of his suit. He relaxed his grip slightly and suddenly it was almost an embrace. All of Phoenix’s fight deserted him as Edgeworth’s expression changed to one of sadness. “I’m trying to tell you it’s not your fault.”
Phoenix’s eyes stung with tears. “Edgeworth…”
“Do you hear me, Nick?” Edgeworth whispered fiercely. “It’s not your fault.”
Edgeworth’s words hadn’t been much comfort at the trial the following day. For the first time in three years, Phoenix was relegated to the courtroom gallery. Godot stood at the defence bench, the light reflecting off his gold attorney’s badge. He was wearing his visor again, the bulky bandage from the previous day replaced by a thinner one. Winston Payne was practically humping the prosecutor’s bench. Finally, a case even he could win.
“The prosecution is ready, Your Honour.”
There was no reply from the defence, and as Phoenix looked down from the gallery, he saw why. Godot was holding a cup of coffee. Phoenix watched as Godot inhaled its fragrance, and took a sip.
The judge banged his gavel. “Mr. Armando! This is a court of law, not a coffee house.”
(You didn’t seem to mind when he was a prosecutor,) Phoenix thought bitterly. Not for the first time, he felt like the whole system was rigged.
“The defence begs the court’s indulgence, Your Honour,” Godot replied. “One last cup for a condemned man.”
A familiar expression of confusion appeared on the judge’s face. “Then… ” He frowned - yet another familiar sight. “Explain yourself at once!”
Godot ignored him and finished his drink. Phoenix slumped in his chair. (This is not happening! Why won’t he *fight*?)
“The defence pleads guilty to all charges, Your Honour.”
Winston Payne looked like he was going to have an accident. Phoenix buried his face in his hands, while around him the gallery erupted in astonished murmurings.
“You understand what a guilty plea means, Mr. Armando,” the judge said gravely.
“Yes.” Godot’s voice was calm - almost serene. There was a light smile on his face. Like it was just another day. Like he wasn’t signing his own death warrant.
“Very well.” The crack of the gavel rang out in the courtroom. “This court acknowledges a plea of ‘Guilty’ on behalf of the defendant, Mr. Diego Armando.” Phoenix stood up and began to edge past the other spectators, unable to bear it any longer, as the judge continued. “The defendant will be remanded in police custody until sentencing, one week from now.”
Phoenix got outside the courtroom and moved towards the wall. He pressed his knuckles to his eyes, trying to get a grip on himself.
“Wright?”
Phoenix looked up in surprise. “E-Edgeworth?” He cleared his throat and attempted to pull himself together. “I - I didn’t see you in there.”
Edgeworth looked away, nervously squeezing his arm.
“I was going to watch, but…I couldn’t bring myself to go inside,” he confessed. “What happened?”
“Armando just threw his life away,” Phoenix replied. He shook his head. “I know what he did was wrong, but…” He looked at his friend. “…intent’s got to count for something. Doesn’t it?”
Edgeworth looked at the floor. He seemed about to speak when the rest of the crowd came out of the courtroom.
“Imagine! He pleaded guilty - to murder, no less!”
“This time next year he’ll be swinging in the breeze.”
“Huh - more like five years’ time, the way the appeals process works!”
“I’m coming back next week for the sentencing. It always gives me chills!”
Phoenix sagged against the wall and rubbed a hand over his face. Tentatively, Edgeworth reached out and patted him on the shoulder.
“I could use a drink, Wright,” he suggested. “How about you?”
He couldn’t remember much else about that day, except Edgeworth driving him home at the end of the night. He hadn’t been able to bring himself to go to the sentencing - not even to support Maya, who insisted on going despite his pleas. He couldn’t stand the thought of seeing Godot standing in the dock, with that calm smile on his face, as the judge handed down the ultimate penalty. Maya’d been unusually quiet for a few days after that. When Godot was transferred from the Detention Center to the penitentiary to await execution, she started visiting him. Every month, without fail. Until now.
The train began to slow to a halt. Phoenix remained in his seat while around him other passengers stood up, gathering their belongings. People with places they actually wanted to be. The train stopped completely and Phoenix heaved a short sigh. No turning back now.
The shuttle to the prison was crowded, and Phoenix had to stand for the fifteen minute journey. At least keeping his balance and avoiding the armpits of the rather large gentleman standing uncomfortably close to him kept him occupied for the journey. As the prison loomed into view, his heart sank.
(I can’t believe I’m doing this.)
“All right, everybody off!”
Phoenix jumped down from the bus and joined the orderly queue formed by the other visitors. Two guards began to herd them all to the prison reception area. Phoenix shot sidelong glances at the other visitors. Most looked like family members and loved ones, but he picked out at least two defence attorneys. He suddenly felt very out of place.
He reached the top of the queue and stood patiently while a guard ran a metal detector over him.
“Name?” asked a second guard, seated at a desk.
“Phoenix Wright.” Phoenix took his visit authorisation card out of his pocket and handed it over.
The guard examined it and carefully copied the details into the visitors’ log.
“Name of prisoner?” he asked.
Phoenix had to check himself - he almost said ‘Godot’. “Diego Armando,” he replied.
“Mm-hm.” The guard turned the book to face him and indicated where he should sign. “Hospital wing.”
Phoenix gulped. “H-hospital?”
“Down there,” the guard replied, pointing at the corridor to Phoenix’s left.
With no other choice, Phoenix began to walk down the corridor. A knot of apprehension began to form in his stomach. The hospital wing… Was Godot seriously ill? Was he… dying? For a moment, Phoenix had an almost uncontrollable urge to turn back. He shook it off. He’d promised Maya, and he’d promised Pearl. He wouldn’t renege on that, no matter what was waiting for him. Phoenix steeled himself as best he could, and continued on.
He entered the room at the end of the corridor, and at first he thought he was in the wrong place. There were no glass partitions, just half a dozen large blue tables, arranged neatly in two rows of three. The place was deserted except for a guard sitting at a desk near the door.
“Uh… hello?”
The guard glanced up and Phoenix approached the desk.
“Um, I’m Phoenix Wright, I’m here to visit a prisoner,” Phoenix explained. He handed over his visit authorisation card. “Diego Armando?” The guard studied his authorisation card disinterestedly and Phoenix found himself rambling. “They, they told me to come down here, so…”
“Mr. Wright…” The guard pointed to the far left corner of the room with her pen. “Third table on the left. Sit at the spot marked ‘V’. If you attempt to pass anything to the prisoner, or attempt to make physical contact with the prisoner, you will be arrested and charged with an offence. ‘Making physical contact’ includes spitting on or at the prisoner. Do you understand?”
(What kind of guy does she think I am?!) Phoenix wondered. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Good.” The guard stared at him coldly. “I’m watching you.”
Phoenix walked to the end of the room, glancing over his shoulder at the guard as he went. She was, indeed, watching him closely. He reached the third table on the left. A small label marked ‘V’ was stuck to the table in front of one of the chairs - the one with its back to the rest of the room. (So the visitor has somewhere to go if the prisoner gets violent,) Phoenix realised. He took his seat and gazed around the room while he waited. It was windowless, and there was a second door in the top left-hand corner of the room. Phoenix figured that it must be where they brought the prisoners in. He tried to relax. Hospital wing or not, Godot must be at least well enough to walk.
At last, the door opened and Godot entered the room, with a guard on one side. The knot in Phoenix’s stomach tightened. It was so strange to see the formerly stylish prosecutor in a prison uniform and grey sneakers fastened by velcro straps. Yet he carried himself the same as always - shoulders back, head cocked. All that was missing was a cup of coffee in his hand.
The guard shadowed Godot to the table. A cocky grin spread across Godot’s face as his gaze fell on Phoenix. He pulled the second chair back from the table while the guard watched.
“Out to the mark, Armando, you know that.”
Godot complied and slid into his seat. The guard moved to the right where he could see the tabletop between them, and backed up about ten feet, nightstick at the ready.
“Both of you, keep you hands above your waists where I can see ’em,” he barked.
Phoenix rested his arms on the table. Godot tucked his hands into his armpits and kept grinning.
“Phoenix Wright,” he remarked. “I almost didn’t recognise you without that cheap suit.” Phoenix wished suddenly that he’d at least worn a shirt and tie. “Though I can’t say your current outfit is much better.”
(Yeah, and those prison stripes are just the height of fashion.) “Maya sends her apologies,” Phoenix explained. “She couldn’t make it this month. She had an accident.”
Godot’s grin disappeared and he leaned forward a little, both hands on the desk.
“What happened?”
“Don’t worry, she’s okay,” Phoenix assured him. “She just fell off a stepladder. She broke her arm but she’ll be just fine.” Godot seemed to relax and Phoenix continued. “The doctors don’t want her moving around too much yet.”
Godot nodded. “So you volunteered to come in her place?” he asked with a smirk.
Phoenix rubbed the back of his neck. “Something like that,” he said sheepishly.
Godot tucked an arm around his waist and stroked the side of his visor with his other hand. “It’s been a long time, Wright.”
“Yeah,” Phoenix replied uncomfortably. He crossed his arms and looked away. “I’m sorry. I - I should’ve come to see you before - ”
“Don’t apologise,” Godot interrupted. “I didn’t expect anyone to come see me, much less you.” He grinned briefly, dropping his hand to the table. “That first month, when they told me Maya was here…” He looked up at Phoenix. “How is she, Wright? How is she, really?”
“She - she’s good,” Phoenix replied, unable to admit they didn’t work together any more. “Maya’s pretty strong. She’s taking it in her stride, just like she always does.”
Godot nodded.
“She’s an incredible young woman,” he remarked. “To forgive me for what I’ve done… that takes a lot of character.” Godot shifted position, folding his hands on the table. “She even channelled Mia for me… just once, so I could say goodbye.” He looked away, covering his mouth with his left hand. “That was…”
“Yeah,” Phoenix replied nervously, trying to think of a way to change the subject. He didn’t think he could handle it if Godot started to cry. And he didn’t really want to think about Mia, or what she’d think of him right now, after everything that had happened.
Godot cleared his throat, sat back up and tucked his hands under his armpits again.
“I keep telling Maya not to come here any more,” he said quietly.
“Wh-why?” Phoenix asked in surprise. “She said she was your only visitor.”
“She has a chance to put all this behind her and move on with her life,” Godot replied. “Something I couldn’t do. The aftertaste of that bitter cup I swallowed was too strong. It soured me inside. It’s no way to live.”
“It’s because of you that she has a life to move on with!” Phoenix exclaimed. “She couldn’t just leave you to rot up here alone. Why can’t you understand that?”
An uncomfortable silence descended between them. Godot leaned back in his seat and ran a hand through his hair. Phoenix noticed that Godot’s white mane was damp and sweaty. In fact, a fine sweat was beading all over his face, even though the room was air-conditioned.
“Armando, are you all right?”
Godot looked at him in puzzlement for a few moments before understanding dawned. “Oh. You mean this?” He swept the sweat from his cheek. “That’s normal for me… now.” He smirked. “Guess it’s not so noticeable from across a courtroom, eh Wright?”
“N-no,” Phoenix answered absently. Godot’s hand movement had drawn his attention to the Medic Alert bracelet he wore, no longer hidden beneath a stylish teal shirt. The sleeves of his prison uniform ended just above the elbow, exposing five years’ worth of IV scars on the inside of each joint. (It could’ve been me,) Phoenix thought suddenly. He felt sick. (And all because I was in the wrong place at the wrong time…)
“Wright?”
Godot began to lean forward, pulling up short when the guard cleared his throat. Phoenix looked up. “Huh?”
“What’s the matter?” Godot asked. “You look worse than three day old coffee.”
“N-nothing,” Phoenix lied. He tried to shake the bad thoughts off. “So… if you’re not sick, why are you in the hospital wing?”
Godot looked at his hands.
“I may be well, Wright,” he replied, “but I’m not… healthy.”
“Oh.” Phoenix looked at him in puzzlement. “I always thought they were the same thing…?”
Godot gave a bitter little smile.
“No healthy man needs three different drugs just to sit and talk to a friend,” he replied. “Or four to stand in court and argue a case.”
“I - I had no idea,” Phoenix confessed. “You always looked fine to me.”
“You never saw me after court was adjourned,” Godot remarked. He gazed at the table as he continued. “Every session left me so exhausted… even with seventeen cups of coffee in my system, I thought I could feel the coma winding its tendrils around my body, trying to drag me back into its bittersweet embrace.” A drop of clear liquid slid down his cheek from the edge of his visor, and Phoenix prayed that it was sweat. “To be thirty-three and feel a hundred years old is no joke.” Godot looked up suddenly, showing Phoenix his old cocky grin. “Still, it’s not something I’ll have to endure much longer.”
(…!)
“That’s -” Phoenix swallowed nervously. “That’s why you chose death, isn’t it? Because you couldn’t go on like this. You couldn’t live your life sick and in pain.”
Godot smirked and shook his head.
“If I wanted to drink that bitter cup, I could’ve done it before the trial,” he replied. “Do you remember when you came to the Detention Center?”
(How can I forget?) Phoenix could picture the scene right now…
“Your tie,” he said. “You were still wearing your tie.”
Godot looked at the table and smirked. “Very sloppy of the police officers.”
“Then - ” Phoenix frowned. “But you couldn’t have wanted to live. You wouldn’t have pleaded guilty to a murder charge.” He turned it over in his mind… and then it hit him.
(Mia.)
“You pleaded guilty… because you want to be with Mia,” Phoenix said slowly. “Because that’s all you have left.”
Godot nodded. The peaceful smile he’d worn on the day of his trial returned to his face.
“Getting to Hell is easy,” he said. “Someone else pours the cup and you gulp it down thoughtlessly, while your soul is stained by pride and anger. But to get to Heaven, you have to be ready. You have to atone.”
Phoenix nodded, understanding it all at last. “That’s why you wouldn’t let me try to save you - because the only person who could… is you.”
“That’s right… Wright.”
Phoenix fidgeted nervously as another awkward silence settled between them… or maybe he was the only one who thought it was awkward. He scratched the back of his neck.
“Gee, that got kinda heavy,” he remarked sheepishly.
Godot smirked. “You know, when I walked in here and saw you, I half-expected you to try to talk me into an appeal.”
“Nah,” Phoenix replied. “I hear you’ve already got a top defence attorney.” Godot’s smirk softened, and suddenly Phoenix decided to come clean. “Besides… I - I can’t practise law any more.” Godot gave him a questioning look and Phoenix mumbled, “I’ve been disbarred.”
Godot leaned back in his chair, tucked one arm across his waist, and stroked a finger along the top ridge of his visor.
“That’s too bad, Wright,” he said quietly. “A sad loss to the legal profession.”
(You wouldn’t say that if you heard the details…or at least the ones everyone else believes.) Phoenix tugged at a loose thread in his hoodie, unable to look Godot in the…visor.
“Still… you could always apply to the prosecutor’s office.”
Phoenix lifted his head in surprise. Godot’s old smirk reappeared on his face.
“You know,” he elaborated, “I heard that once, they hired a blind coma patient who refused to provide his real name.”
In spite of himself, Phoenix started to laugh.
“How did you get away with that?” he asked.
Godot chuckled. “I gave them a reference,” he explained. “A rookie prosecutor, a prodigy, I met during my last case as a defence attorney. I discovered that while I slept, he’d garnered quite a reputation.”
“Edgeworth?!” Phoenix asked incredulously. He leaned back in his chair, shaking his head in amazement. “He was your reference?! Didn’t anyone check that out?”
“Apparently not,” Godot replied. “But then, no-one bothered to look into Manfred von Karma’s perfect record, either - until you stirred everything up.”
Phoenix blushed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, well…” He wondered suddenly how many people would want to read about his old cases now, and decided to change the subject. “Hey, they keep Winston Payne around - even though he barely reads his case files.”
“Heh.” Godot tapped his finger on the table. “I felt somewhat slighted that the infamous ‘Rookie Killer’ didn’t recognise me. Slighted… but not surprised.”
Phoenix grinned and rubbed his arm. “You went up against him in court too, huh?”
Godot nodded. “My first trial as an attorney. He came to perform a baptism of fire, but instead I administered a scalding blessing of my own.”
(Why can’t you just say “I threw a cup of coffee at him”?) Phoenix thought in exasperation. The feeling of irritation melted away as quickly as it arose. (But then, I guess you wouldn’t be you if you didn’t wax poetic about coffee.)
“Of course,” Godot continued with a smirk, “at the time I didn’t realise that only a prosecutor can get away with such a ridiculous stunt.”
Phoenix smiled back, and was suddenly filled with a tremendous feeling of sadness. Godot tilted his head slightly and gave him a questioning look. “What’s wrong?”
Phoenix stared at the tabletop in front of him.
“I guess… I wish things could’ve been different,” he replied quietly. “That’s all.”
Godot leaned back, stroking his visor again. “It would’ve been something to work with you, Wright,” he remarked. “It really would.”
The guard nearby looked at his watch.
“All right, gents, wrap it up.”
“What?!” Phoenix protested. “We have five more minutes!”
“So use ‘em to wrap it up,” the guard barked.
Phoenix shot the guard a glare and then turned his attention back to Godot.
“I’ll come see you again,” he promised. “Count on it.”
Godot scratched at his beard. “I won’t be offended if you don’t,” he replied. “But there is something I’d like you to do.”
Phoenix nodded. “Anything.”
“When the time comes for me to slip into the deepest sleep of all…” Godot smiled wryly. “…pour out one cup of rich Columbian darkness, and drink it for me.”
Tears stung Phoenix’s eyes. “I will.”
Godot crossed his arms on the table and leaned forward slightly.
“Then, I want you to take these memories, file them away, and forget,” he said softly. “My soul is at peace, Wright. Don’t let my fate trouble yours.”
Phoenix couldn’t speak; couldn’t move. Godot pushed his chair back from the table and waited until the guard was standing next to him before he stood up. He shot Phoenix that maddening, arrogant smirk one more time.
“Adios, mi amigo.”
The guard led him out, and Phoenix watched him go through a haze of tears. Shoulders back, head up; he knew Godot would walk to the gallows that way too. Phoenix got up from the table and walked past the guard at the desk without saying a word.
He didn’t come out of his daze till he was back at the train station, sitting on a bench by the platform clutching a cardboard cup full of coffee.
(Seven Months Later)
The kitchen clock read five minutes to five. Phoenix gazed up at it as he waited for the kettle to boil. It was a long time since he’d been up so early… or home so late. On the table lay a stack of yellowing case files from the Grossberg law firm, ranging in age from seven to twelve years old.
The sun was up.
The kettle clicked off and Phoenix poured the scalding water into his mug, onto the brown powder already inside. Only instant - he couldn’t afford the good stuff these days. He knew that in Kurain Village, Maya was doing the same thing. Half an hour ago, in the condemned cell, someone had brewed some coffee too.
Phoenix watched the clock, blowing on his drink as the hands edged closer and closer to the hour.
At six a.m., as a trapdoor opened and a rope stretched taut, Phoenix raised his cup in a silent salute. He swallowed the first mouthful around a lump in his throat.
“Daddy?”
Trucy appeared in the doorway, rubbing her eyes. “What are you doing?”
“Nothing, Trucy,” Phoenix replied, setting his coffee aside. He picked her up and gave her a hug. “Go on back to bed. I’m just keeping a promise, that’s all.”
“Okay.” She padded sleepily out of the kitchen, and Phoenix picked up his mug again.
(One promise, at least.) He sipped the coffee slowly, breathing in its fragrance, and gazed at the files on the table. Crisp, new copies of them were stored at the office… every case ever argued by defence attorney Diego Armando.
(Sorry, Armando, but I won’t forget you. There’s no need. My soul is at peace, too.)
THE END
-^)--)~