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wardencommanderrodimiss · 6 years ago

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Before the Turnabout

SURPRISE it’s a bonus feature to Acing the Turnabout: me grabbing the opening of a fic I’ll never finish because it didn’t fit right with what I wanted the emotional core of this case in this AU to be, and tossing it out here almost entirely unedited.

At 3:39 in the morning, the phone rings. Franziska knows the exact time because when she opens her eyes she is staring at the red neon numbers of her beside clock and they are the only lights in the room. Any call at this time is liable to be bad news and though her phone will record the time that the call came in, she likes to have these things filed away in her head as well. It's her job.

When she puts hand to phone and turns it over, her stomach clenches. Miles. The two most likely scenarios are something happened with Trucy or Phoenix, and the latter is infinitely more likely. The club closes at 3. Did he not make it home? A bar fight turned deadly, hit by a car, a mugging gone worse, and she's going to get up at the podium and accidentally call him an idiot at his funeral. "Miles? What's wrong?"

"Phoenix got arrested."

She exhales in a relieved sigh that Miles must hear. See where jumping to conclusions gets her: needless worry at best, wrong verdicts at worst. Neither an Edgeworth nor a von Karma affords themselves foolish assumptions. "What for? Did the club finally get in trouble for illegal gambling?" Phoenix has explained to her, several times, why his poker games aren't illegal but Franziska has long imagined that one day he or the establishment will slip to the wrong side of legality.

"He's a suspect in a murder."

She remembers this call. It happened in the afternoon, when she was still a child, studying in her father's office while he and Raymond were out investigating. The phone rang and she grabbed it. Edgeworth Law Offices speaking. How may we help you? - Franziska? It's Miles. Phoenix was arrested on suspicion of murder. He signed with some rookie defense attorney from Grossberg's who's only tried one case before. They gained more than they lost that day when Phoenix's girlfriend turned out to be the evil murderous twin. If he hadn't met Mia Fey then how many fewer friends would all of them have? Where would any of them be?

"Again?" she asks, not meaning to sound as annoyed as she does. Once was unfortunate; twice was a grim achievement that surpassed Maya's two separate arrests for attempted murder and murder (verdicts: not guilty and not guilty), and Diego's one for attempted murder and assault (verdicts: not guilty and guilty, but Franziska couldn't really fault him for punching the actual would've-been murderer in the face).

Within their family they had five defense attorneys, each with over a decade of experience. Miles would without question put his, or Phoenix's, life in Mia's hands now, if he didn't have his own badge in his own right, and Phoenix may have lost his badge for longer than he ever had it but he is as sharp as he ever was. If Miles is working a case now - and she doesn't think he is - someone else can step in. "I currently have my own case but I may be able to wrap it up tomorrow and I will see if I can work the Chief Prosecutor to assign me to Phoenix's trial. You will be defending I presume."

The silence on the other end of the phone tells her that she has made a mistake with that presumption, but she has no idea how. Miles would do anything for Phoenix, she knows, which means that Phoenix --

"Miles? What has he done?"

"He called Gavin." Miles' voice is flat. Franziska wonders if he recently woke up or whether he has been sitting awake all night. Either way he sounds exhausted enough that the words almost don't even register and maybe the reason that he repeats himself is because he realizes this, but maybe he too is trying to process what he is saying. "He called Gavin - he called Gavin before he called me. He's having Gavin defend him."

Franziska sits up at the edge of her bed, fumbling for the lamp. "Why would he do that?" she asks.

"I don't know! He wouldn't tell me. He said Gavin has something to do with it, and that he has a strategy, and 'trust me, I have a plan that'll bring the truth to light and put an end to this' and he wouldn't explain any of it." Miles' words are running together at the edges; the pace of his voice has picked up to frantic in a way that Franziska has not heard in years and years.

"Miles, where are you?" She stands and goes to her closet. She doesn't imagine she will be home again before going into work and she searches through her clothes for a skirt and top that can straddle the line between "office appropriate" and "comfortable for 4 am."

"In the hall outside the apartment; Trucy is asleep, I don't want to wake her, I don't want her to hear..."

"You will have to tell her in the morning." She rips a shirt from a hanger and throws it over her shoulder at the bed. When Phoenix is free she is going to kill him for putting them through this. "Go back inside, go sit down, get some water. I will be over in 20 minutes."

"You don't have to--"

"Shut up, Miles. Yes, I do. No argument."

It takes her 25 minutes to reach Miles' apartment building and she realizes that she forgot to put on pantyhose when she steps out of her car and the cold early-morning air bites at her legs with a ferocity unexpected for April. Inside it isn't much warmer. When she reaches Miles' door on the third floor she twists the handle before using her spare key; the door opens. He must have forgotten to lock it when he went back inside. She steps inside, ready to scold him, and the mess startles her, as it always does; even though it has been seven years since Phoenix and Trucy moved in, Franziska has the memory of how neat Miles kept his room during their childhoods, and this same apartment clean and carefully-organized. Phoenix has never kept a desk or floor clear in his life.

The kitchen light is the only one on; behind her she shuts the door and locks it before she pads into the room. "Miles," she hisses. He sits bent over the kitchen table, his head in his arms, shifting only slightly to look at her from one eye. An empty water glass sits in front of him and she takes it to the sink to refill it and place it back in front of him before she sits down. "Miles. What did he say happened, from the beginning?"

He looks terrible. Likely hasn't slept all night, she thinks, but that doesn't account for the exhaustion that he wears almost every time she sees him. Does he wait up every night, working and waiting to be sure that Phoenix made it home safely? She is going to kill that man for what he puts her brother through.

"He called a bit after three," Miles says, in German, which means that he either thinks Trucy might have woken and be listening now or is extra cautious about such occurring at any point during their conversation. "From the detention center. The murder happened around one-thirty, at the poker table. Wine bottle to the head."

"Victim name?" Franziska asks, continuing in German.

Miles shakes his head. "Doesn't know or didn't want to give it. "Victim got violent, tried to attack the waitress; Phoenix went upstairs to call the police and when he came back the man was dead."

"And then he called Gavin." She doesn't have to work to pronounce the name with a sneer; it comes naturally, with long practice, no matter which Gavin brother she speaks of. She fortunately hasn't had reason to speak of the other one in years and has heard nothing of him other than terrible and terribly catchy songs on the radio.

Miles looks away from her, one arm pulled protectively across his chest. "And then he called Gavin and asked him to defend him."

And that is where the real mystery begins. The murder is a puzzle to be unraveled in investigation and court over a few days; the question of why Phoenix has done anything he has done is an old matter grown more pressing as the years have passed and Phoenix has closed himself off further and further. "He didn't tell you why he did that?"

"No. He only said he has a strategy. He didn't say what." Miles presses his hand to his face. "He doesn't explain anything to me anymore."

"I'll go down to the detention center in a few hours and make him explain himself." Franziska drums her fingers on the table. "I will get you your answers and I will tell him that he is slowly killing you."

She expects Miles to deny it, but he doesn't, and the haunted look in his eyes tells her more than either words or silence can. "And if I do not get all of the information from him, surely the parade of defense attorneys that we know will--"

The floor creaks. She stops. Trucy emerges from the darkened hallway that leads to the bedrooms. "Papa?" she asks around a yawn. "What're you--" Sudden alertness comes to her eyes even as she covers another yawn with her hand. "Aunt Fran? Why are you here? Where's Daddy?" She looks from the kitchen to the living room, craning her neck and squinting like she expects to see Phoenix sitting there on the couch in the dark. "Did... did something happen?"

"Your father's been arrested," Miles says, switching back to English and finally sitting up straight, "on suspicion of murder."

Trucy stands there, with her messy hair and a baggy Ivy University t-shirt that Franziska thinks she had seen Phoenix wear once long ago, blinking at them. Then her expression changes like she is unfreezing parts of her face at different rates, a laborious process of several seconds until she has forced a false smile upon her face. She is a stage performer, the daughter of lawyers, long having mastered wearing a smile through the worst of situations. Mia and Diego have a saying about such but Franziska wishes Trucy would stop. There is no one here to wear a mask for. "But you'll defend him, right, Papa? You'll defend him and it will be fine, right?"

Trucy has an uncanny knack for noticing a person's nervous tics. Miles has never been able to lie to her - not that Miles was good at lying before Trucy or even before Phoenix's magatama. "We'll do everything we can to help him," Franziska says. "I will not see your father punished for a crime he did not commit."

Not again, she thinks, and unbidden the image comes to mind of tripping Prosecutor Gavin down a flight of stairs. It's a good thought.

"But..." Trucy blinks rapidly, pressing her lips together, drawing one arm across her body to clutch the other. "You aren't..."

"I would," Miles says sharply, but then his voice quickly softens. "Of course I would, in a second, but he doesn't want me to." He spreads his arms in a gesture of helplessness but also invitation. Trucy hurries across the kitchen to him and hugs him, burying her face in his shoulder.

#bullshit defense au #bullshit defense fic #roddy fanfics

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bestfriendforhire · 8 years ago

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Entry 275

Rarely did I ever encounter someone of equal height with me. Stepping out into the arena, I was certain I’d have to look up at Maksim Fedor Menshikov. Alma had told me that Maksim shouldn’t be a difficult challenge for me, but she also warned not to underestimate him either. Unlike me, he had spent his entire life practicing physical and magical combat.

Another twist on this occasion were weapons, scattered along the walls of the arena. Each of them would bear enchantments to make them lethal, possibly even against me. I had been advised not to let Maksim near those, since Alma felt I was still inept with quite a few weapons. I found myself wishing Aaliyah would have told me a little more about this opponent. I didn’t have a clue how I was going to subdue him.

The chime rang and Maksim rushed me, casting spells as he moved. I quickly tore apart the spells meant to grab weapons, but I wasn’t sure what the other one was until Maksim was engulfed by it, covered in fire. Was he wanting to burn me?

He was very fast, and I didn’t need to hold back very much as I dodged to the side. I was slightly disappointed that he didn’t plunge into the door from whence I came, instead using his speed to run up and flip off of it. I used the moment to step closer to him again, sweeping his feet as he landed, but Maksim flipped over my sweep, made a quick burst of air to keep him hovering a fraction of a second, and tried to kick me in the head with both of his feet as he spun them back toward me.

I blocked. The blow was gentle compared with what Alma typically threw at me. I found myself on the defensive, and Maksim was still trying more spells, keeping me divided between keeping my face intact and stopping his spells. I created a blast of force like I once had used against Luke, the werelion from my school. Maksim slammed against the far wall, but was on his feet again ― smiling as he looked at me ― in under a second.

He dashed to the side, and I knew I couldn’t beat him to the nearest sword without “cheating”. I quickly created spells to grab all of the weapons from the area, pulling them to me. Maksim stopped and looked around the room before sprinting toward a different wall. Fine. I created spells to pull all of the weapons to me. To my surprise, several of them failed. I glanced at Alma, who was rolling her eyes.

Knowing I couldn’t stop Maksim from reaching the flail near him, I considered what I might use from around me, but I then realized they might well be inferior, considering how I could pull them to me with magic. I ran to the large sword behind me. I could at least have greater reach using it.

When I turned around, Maksim casually kicked a sword up to his hand from my pile. Was abandoning the pile to him wise? The sword flew at me from Maksim’s hand, and I recognized that he was attempting to create a spell to boost its speed. I swatted the sword to the side with a spell as I took apart Maksim’s spell.

He suddenly moved faster, dropping the flail to hurl weapons from the pile at me and quickly attempting more spells to do the same. He had been holding back!? I charged at him while deflecting his attempts to injure me with spells of my own. I swung at his neck upon reach him, planning to stop just short, but he rolled away, picking up the flail as he did and immediately swing it toward me.

I blocked, but he was stronger than I had thought. I nearly lost my grip when the flail wrapped around my sword. I quickly kicked at his chest, surprised that he tried blocking my foot with a spell. He could have released the flail and dodged easily. The spell was absorbed as my foot touched it, and I pushed off his chest, pulling the flail out of his hand.

Had he not seen me fight? I had assumed he had at least heard of my previous matches with how he hadn’t directed a single spell at me. I threw him against the wall with another spell. When he stood, I threw him again.

Speaking in Russian, he yelled “FIGHT ME WITH YOUR FISTS!”

I shrugged, dropped the sword, and charged him. He was strong, but I was accustomed to being hit by Alma. He was fast, but I fought faster daily. Using spells to block, seemed reflexive to him. There was often a brief moment of shock when he was still hit.

I felt him forming a spell behind me and quickly redirected it at him. Fire scorched his arm, and I felt a touch of guilt. I didn’t mean to burn him. I had simply reacted. My moment of guilt gave him an opening to kick me in the leg, which was quickly followed by several other blows. Then I was too late interrupting another of his spells. Weapons were flying at me from the pile. I created a wall to block them as I fought Maksim off.

Foolish. Some of the weapons penetrated my spell, stabbing my back and arms. Luckily, their enchantments were dispelled as they struck me. Getting shot had been worse. Maksim was caught off guard this time, giving me the chance to trip him and slam his head against the wall. He sank to the ground, sitting and laughing.

“You fight good, James.” he told me, speaking in English now. “Finish me if you can!”

He jumped at me, aiming a punch at my face. I flipped him and threw him to the ground. Rolling, he grabbed a sword and attacked me again. I grabbed the blade and bent it. Another kick came at me, but I was able to duck, rolling backwards under it. He jumped at me, kicking again, so I moved to the side and punched him.

On and on we fought, but he wasn’t tiring any faster than I was. I didn’t know what to do to stop him. Everything froze around me as Aaliyah seemed to walk out of a wall.

“I can show you a spell to end this in seconds, but you’re not going to like it.” she told me.

“Have any options that I would like?” I asked.

“Not really. I could tell you ways to end this that would leave you feeling better for today, but there would be worse consequences later.” she replied with a cute smile. “Would you like some pie? I was going to bring cake, but I ate it. I stole this off Carl’s counter.”

“Sure. Why not. Smells like blueberry.” I told her.

Times like this with Aaliyah were always strange to me. With the world frozen in place, she could alter things dramatically with no one else having a clue that she did a thing. I imagined her putting clown makeup on Adelmar as he sat there, looking imperious.

“You can if you feel like it.” she told me.

“I have a feeling that wouldn’t end well.” I replied.

Nodding, she said, “You’d get to see something amazing, but the timing really isn’t right.”

Sweet and sour battled in my mouth as I bit into the pie. “This is peculiar. What is it?” I asked.

“Those aren’t blueberries! If you traveled roughly thirteen point three billion light years that way, you’d find some children munching on one similar to this.” she told me as she pointed.

“And this is safe?” I asked.

“You’d mildly poison some folk if you shared with the wrong ones, but the pie won’t hurt you!” she giddily exclaimed.

A spell came unbidden to my mind. “No.” I stated.

“Hmm?” asked Aaliyah.

“I do not want to do that to him.” I replied.

“He’ll get over it in a couple days.” she informed me.

“Still…” I started without having a good argument. There was never a good argument against Aaliyah.

“I know, but you will use it. You won’t like it. The others will see you won’t like it. They’ll consider your sorrow a weakness, but many will also be afraid of pushing you. This is for the best, boss-man, sir.” she insisted.

“I don’t want to be feared.” I protested.

Nodding, she said, “You will be. You’ll also be loved, even by some who are afraid of you.”

“Can’t you do something?” I begged.

“I can do many things! Ask me, and I’ll take you to a distant planet where you’ll have nothing but happiness for the rest of your life.” she replied.

“A distant planet without Alma?” I asked.

“Oh, I can take her too. Pick anyone you like, and I’ll take you all.” she replied, staring up at me with her big, blue eyes.

“At what cost?” I questioned.

Aaliyah tapped her lip as if in thought and then said, “I’ll rip apart time and space to defy a spell that’s forcing events. This planet will suffer and the greatest person I know will never come to exist. She wants you to do this for her, and you wouldn’t want to upset her. You enjoy her company too much to ever distress her.”

“If she is so magnificent, why would you defy her for me?” I asked.

“I love you, boss-man, sir. If you asked, I’d kill Maksim there any way you want. If you really want, I can tidy all of this up nicely and create something that would cause another friend of mine to vomit.” she told me with another cute smile.

“Huh? I don’t follow.” I admitted.

“I’d enforce a paradox to ensure events unfold properly. He’d sense it, come investigating, and vomit after examining it too long.” she explained.

I didn’t really understand what precisely she’d be doing, but I had the feeling I wouldn’t want it. My heart sank in my chest as I stood. I did not want this, but I was doing it.

“Thank you for the pie.” I told her.

There was no reply. Maksim was charging me again.

“I’m so sorry.” I told him.

There was a look of confusion on his face as I casted the spell. His arms and legs shattered. His thunderous scream echoed throughout the arena.

I looked around, and the crowd looked expectant. Wasn’t this enough?

“Please, submit. There’s no reason to die.” I told Maksim. Tears were coming. I didn’t want this.

Wondering if he couldn’t hear me, I put a spell over his mouth to silence the continued scream. Then I asked him to submit again.

Seconds continued ticking along, and his mouth continued screaming.

Adelmar stood and clapped as he said, “James Michael Somerset III is the victor. Congratulations.”

Others joined him in clapping.

“Is Alma allowed to set his bones quickly before permanent damage is done?” I asked.

Adelmar laughed and said, “If she’s willing.”

Alma was by Maksim in full haste. I knew Aaliyah had said he would heal, but she often expected us to take action as well. I feared this day would haunt me for years to come. What was I becoming?

#Best #Friend #For #Hire #Jovial #Times #Fantasy #Fiction #Story #Aaliyah #Alma #Adelmar

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