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Despite Apollo’s suspicions, he never fully believed any of Phoenix’s jokes about him and Trucy. He just thought it was his boss’s fatherly humor and strange adoration towards him, plus how well he got along with Trucy. So he thought nothing of it.
Not at first anyways.
It started with little comments, though. Like the day the office was a wreck, and everyone was all over the place. One person was deep cleaning, another was trying to work, then someone bumped into a table and all the work got messed up, then everyone was yelling, then Trucy left to go get paper towels, and the chaos descended.
“Great,” Apollo muttered as he grabbed two, now soggy, sheets of paper with the tips of his thumbs and forefingers, “now I have to reprint these and fill them out all over again.”
“Well, maybe you shouldn’t write with your elbows sticking out,” Athena said, sticking her tongue out at the grumpy lawyer.
“Maybe you should put a lid on your drinks!”
“Maybe you should just get good! ”
“Hey!” Phoenix’s voice cut in. Athena and Apollo whipped their heads around like children caught doing something they weren’t supposed to. “Stop fighting! Where— is Trucy still getting paper towels?”
“I think so…”
“How about we focus on her instead of bickering?” Phoenix chuckled and rolled his eyes. “Apollo, go get your sister.”
Apollo sputtered a bit, and Athena snorted. He expected Phoenix to just laugh and go with it—there were running jokes about how he was basically fathering Apollo now as well, so it wouldn’t be that weird. What was weird was the fact that Phoenix looked just as startled by his own statement as Apollo, and with a reddened face, attempted to clumsily remedy his words.
But Apollo decided not to think too much about it. He rushed quickly off down the stairs to the front lobby (it was an unoccupied front desk by the doors with a sign that pointed W.A.A. clients up the stairs to the actual office, and a small janitors closet) where he found Trucy in a pile of cleaning supplies. It was a total off day.
He didn’t think about it much until the next time there was an odd occurance.
It was an early morning, and Apollo was the first one in the office—as usual. Phoenix followed close behind, still yawning and grumbling, and it was just them for a little bit. While Apollo went through paperwork at a surprisingly fast pace for early in the morning, Phoenix sipped his overly-sweetened coffee and sorted through the agency mail sleepily, muttering out loud about each of the pieces.
“Junk, junk, junk…”
Apollo was mostly tuning him out, tapping his foot to some song that had been stuck in his head but he couldn’t remember the title of, scribbling away at mindless paperwork that he’d let pile up over the week.
“Junk, junk… oh, that’s from Miles…” Phoenix said with a soft voice.
Apollo looked up and made a face at his boss.
“I know you’re married and all, but gross , Mr. Wright.”
“What?”
“I can feel you making heart eyes and I wasn’t even looking at you.”
His mentor simply rolled his eyes and muttered something about getting back to work as he hid his grin behind the rim of his mug. And then he was back to sorting.
Trucy piled in not too much later, also much too chipper for the early hours—though Phoenix’s definition of early was concerning, it was barely past nine. She mentioned something about not having school that day, and then she started ‘reorganizing’ her pile of props. In reality, she was just going through them, demonstrating her progress, and putting them into another disorganized pile, all while Phoenix and Apollo worked.
“Junk, junk… oh,” Phoenix sleepily nodded in Trucy’s general direction, “this one’s from your mother.”
Now that one got Apollo’s attention. His head snapped up, and he was shocked to find that the letter in his hands was leaning lopsidedly toward Apollo.
“ Huh?”
Phoenix’s wrist tightened up suddenly, and the letter hit his desk quickly.
Did he mean to point it towards Apollo? Even if he didn’t— mother? But Trucy’s mother had passed away. Hadn’t she? Wasn’t there an accident?
Trucy rolled her eyes, skipping over with a still bright expression on her face.
“Daddy, you know Papa Miles doesn’t like it when you call him that!” she scolded as she held her hand out.
Apollo watched Phoenix’s shoulders slump slightly and he smiled at his daughter, chuckling breathily.
“I know, I know,” he said, and lifted the letter up again—wait, was it the same letter? “This might just be a business letter, though. Don’t get to excited. I don’t think it’s a postcard.”
“Okayyyy,” Trucy sighed. “But I can hope!” and she snatched the letter up.
Weird. That was so weird.
He let that instance linger a little longer than the other one. But for a while, nothing else as strange happened. Maybe he was just being paranoid, or maybe Phoenix was being extra cautious of what he was saying.
What was he thinking? Why would Mr. Wright have to be cautious? That’s weird—what on earth would he have to hide? What kind of weird theories was he even coming up with?
Still, he had this weird feeling.
He had nothing else to base it on for a few months. Not until one of Trucy’s shows.
Well, it was a school talent show, but they made it a big deal. Edgeworth, at this point, was back from traveling was and staying at the Wright household officially, so the couple spent all afternoon getting ready with their daughter. Apollo and Athena met them at the event after they’d dropped Trucy off, each with a small bouquet of flowers for her for after.
She did phenomenal, as always. She was a huge hit with the crowd and ended up placing first—she was well liked by some of the younger siblings of students and incoming students as well. And she had the loudest cheerleading squad, between Phoenix sobbing simply out of pride and joy, and Athena and Apollo screaming at the top of their lungs.
The unofficial Trucy Wright Fan Club was on an adrenaline high as they exited the auditorium, heading through the crowd to meet Trucy. Unfortunately, a lot of people wanted to greet the talents in the show, so the faculty were stopping people and turning them away.
“Hello,” Phoenix started as he approached one of the women blocking the doors. “I’m here to see Trucy.”
“I’m so sorry, sir. Only family beyond this point,” she said. “There’s just too many people. If non-family wants to see her, they can try to meet the students outside, but we simply don’t have the room in the hallways.”
“Oh! Okay, well, I’m her father and…” he turned around. “Athena, we’ll meet you outside.” Then he turned back nonchalantly to confirm more with the staff so they would allow him back.
Apollo paused. Did Mr. Wright forget about him? Did it slip his mind? He and Athena exchanged confused glances, and then he looked to Mr. Edgeworth, who was clearing his throat and whispering to Phoenix, whose ears immediately burned red.
“Uh- and you, Apollo! Sorry! I meant… like the Athena carpool!”
Apollo shifted awkwardly on his toes, giving a strange looking thumbs up before he and Athena wormed their way back through the crowd to the front door.
“That was weird,” Apollo said the second they stepped outside. “Don’t you think that was weird?”
Athena shrugged, shoving her hands in her jacket pockets as she shivered through the early winter night air. “Dunno! Maybe he was gonna sneak you back but Edgeworth is too much of a rule follower.”
“But why didn’t he bring you back?”
“Because Trucy and I don’t look alike at all!” Athena snickered. “But you and Trucy kinda look alike. Actually, not kinda— really look alike.”
“You think so?”
“Yeah, dude! Are you blind?”
“Well—“
“Polly! Athena!”
Their conversation was interrupted by a very excited Trucy with her plastic trophy, sprinting at them at full speed.
He could think about this later, he supposed.
He didn’t even get a break—his later came that night.
They decided to do a celebratory dinner—on Edgeworth’s dime, kindly enough. And it was very nice, nothing fancy, but Trucy was so excited about the show that she talked through the whole meal. She talked all about her other classmates and how hard they all worked, she talked about all the preparation she did, and she even showed off her winning prize to the waiter.
He was just as excited for her as the actual party of friends and family at the table, and conversed kindly with them every time he came to check on them.
“Everyone doing alright over here?” he asked once. “Do you need any refills, Miss Winner?”
Trucy beamed a bright smile, exclaiming ‘ yes please!’ as she held up her empty cup. The whole table giggled.
“Can do! One more Shirley Temple. Anyone else? Dads, do we need anything? Does your brother need anything?”
A pause. Everyone turned to look at Apollo one by one, and suddenly his smile faltered in confusion. Oh. Oh, he meant—
“I—“
“Yeah, I think he could use more… that okay, ‘Pollo?” Phoenix asked, not wanting to make a tense situation. So Apollo nodded—he did want a refill anyway—and everyone else who needed a refill got theirs before the waiter took off.
“Okay, again?” Apollo couldn’t help it. He couldn’t let this happen twice in one night.
“Sorry?”
“No, I mean— Athena was just saying Trucy and I looked a lot a like, and apparently he thought so too… do we really?”
Edgeworth raised an eyebrow, looking at Apollo over the rim of his glass. Phoenix pressed his lips together and shrugged. Even Trucy stared at Apollo like he was slow.
“Do you genuinely not see it?” the lone prosecutor asked.
“Uh…” Apollo muttered. “No?”
“Apollo, we have the same hair!” Trucy said.
“And noses,” Athena pointed out.
“And similar vocal timbres and patterns,” Edgeworth chimed in.
“Your eyes, too,” Phoenix added. “You have your mother’s eyes.”
A fork clattered after that one, and even Edgeworh’s mouthful of water sounded like it was a struggle.
“What?” Phoenix said suddenly as he realized all eyes were on him, many different, unreadable expressions. “I— uh.. I obviously meant me.” Another pause. “Like a joke. Like… like I’m the mother.” Still silent. “Y’know?”
“You’re an imbecile,” Edgeworth said, pinching the bridge of his nose.
Apollo was trying so hard to ignore the tightness on his wrist. Trucy, he noticed, also was looking at her father with a very intrigued and suspicious look.
As if by some miracle, their waiter returned with a tray of refills, and the tension dissipated slightly as everyone moved on.
Eventually the dinner came to an end, and everyone parted ways, the Wrights piling into Edgeworth’s car and Apollo with Athena.
As they were parting ways, Apollo looked over his shoulder and saw Trucy tugging on her father’s sleeve, standing on her tiptoes to say something to him. Based on what Apollo could see of Phoenix’s expression, it was going to be a serious conversation. Was it about…?
Apollo turned back around and opened Athena’s passenger door to her gaudy little car, swallowing the lump in his throat. Every day, his suspicions and his strange intuition grew stronger. But right now, he felt this odd fear where he didn’t want to think about it like he usually did.
So tonight, on that drive home, he pushed everything way to the back of his head.
Trucy came into the office the next day with a new air about her. Maybe it was a high of winning an award, but she usually never let anything get to her head like that. And her actions didn’t seem selfish in any way.
But he didn’t ask. There was this gut feeling he refused to touch on.
So he just let her go about with this subtle shift in something . He didn’t know what was different, but nothing was wrong. He knew that much, and he was glad for that.
Everything continued as normal. He came to work every day, he did his work, he talked with his coworkers, he handled cases, and he called it a day.
His twinge of suspicion finally returned one day. He supposed it was inevitable and he couldn’t escape the questions that had been piling in his head, but he’d pushed it away enough that it hit him pretty hard when it happened.
He and Trucy were out for a case—a burglary charge that their defendant swears he did not do, so they agreed to do some investigating at the shop that had been broken into. It, unfortunately, was incredibly chaotic, and the store owner who had accused their young client of committing the crime, was irritated and quite uncooperative.
After dealing with handfuls of insults like incompetent and corrupt , Trucy and Apollo wrapped up their investigation with heavy shoulders.
“Hey,” Trucy said with a sudden grin, “let’s get a treat to make us feel better! One of my classmates’ family has a boba shop downtown! Let’s grab a drink on our way back.”
Apollo thought it over for a minute, already feeling his wallet screaming at him, but Trucy’s puppy dog eyes were hard to say no to. So the next thing he knew, they were standing at the counter ordering bubble tea.
“I’m glad you stopped by, Trucy,” the owner and father of the girl’s peer said as he handed the pair their drinks. “Strawberry popping boba for you, and taro milk tea for…” the man trailed off as he handed the purple drink towards Apollo.
“This is my brother, Polly!” Trucy said with a bright grin.
His drink almost exploded because of how hard he grabbed it. He steadied his hand and turned to look at the girl next to him, who turned to meet his eyes and gasped, her hand lifting to partially cover her mouth, clearly shocked by her own words.
“Well, Polly—“
“Ah— Apollo , please!” he turned quickly to the man. “Sorry. Uhm! Thank you for the drinks!” he dropped a dollar in the tip jar with shaking hands.
“Apollo! Yes, of course! Wonderful to meet you. Come again, you two!”
Apollo and Trucy waved goodbye and thanked him once more as they exited the store.
“Uh… Trucy—“
“Oh my gosh!” she exclaimed suddenly. “We have to get back! I totally forgot I have a gig soon! I need to get my props together!” And she was off, sprinting down the sidewalk and leaving Apollo to chase after her.
Weird. So weird.
And now it was back to his routine of thinking about all these signs and clues constantly. Was he reading into it? When it was slip ups from Mr. Wright, he could convince himself he was reading into it. But Trucy? Maybe he was right. Maybe there was something they knew that he didn’t. He was sure of it. He just couldn’t put together that big missing piece. Because maybe he was right, but if he was, then who…?
He had to ask.
Especially after the night he’d had.
Mr. Wright and Mr. Edgeworth we’re having a big anniversary party—they rented a nice banquet hall with rooms to stay in after for all the friends who traveled, they renewed their vows, and every member of the W.A.A. took this as an opportunity to eat as much food as possible.
It was actually a very beautiful celebration with a lot of guests—almost the entirety of the prosecutors’ office was there, as well as many long time colleagues of the happy couple (this was Apollo’s first time actually getting to meet the infamous Detective Gumshoe he’d heard so much about) and old friends (this was not the first time Apollo has had to encounter Larry Butz).
They had a gorgeous string quartet performing that evening as well—it was obvious that Edgeworth did most of the planning since his money was probably the majority that went in. But about halfway through the evening, the hired musicians paused to allow Klavier Gavin up for an acoustic set. Just one song, with an odd intro.
“Ah, hallo . This was the happy couples very sentimental request, for their daughter, of course.”
And then what song does he play?
The Guitar’s Serenade.
Why on earth was that sentimental to them? What about a collaborative song between Klavier and a foreign singer they heard from every few months or so was sentimental? They weren’t there the night of the debut, and the song caused more stress than sentiment.
And that nagging feeling was whacking Apollo in the back of the head the whole song as he watched Trucy mouthing along to the words with borderline tears in her eyes.
It was only after the dinner when Apollo got the courage to find Mr. Wright’s room amongst all of the guest rooms in the building they rented out. It was nearly half past one in the morning when he finally found him, awake on pure adrenaline and a glass and a half of champagne.
His boss, Apollo noticed when he opened the door, was half awake and still somewhat drunk, though not as bad as he was beforehand. Earlier in the night, he was a little beyond tipsy, which definitely was not a great idea as a former alcoholic, but it was a special occasion. It’s not even like he had a lot of drinks, his body just wasn’t used to the substance anymore. Apollo remembered he said it was his first drink in years, and drunkenly admitted he was supposed to only have a glass of champagne but got carried away. He was inevitably cut off.
“Hey, ‘Pollo… did you need something?” Phoenix muttered as he rubbed his eyes with the heel of his palm. “Are you having trouble finding your room? Or…” there was a pause, and Phoenix looked out and down the hall, as if expecting, hoping to see another person. “Are you finally getting together with— uh… did you… need anything? Like—“
“Is there something about Trucy and I that you know and I don’t?” Apollo blurted out. His face was flushed from champagne and nerves.
Phoenix looked dumbfounded, jaw practically on the floor. He could only manage a few “ uhm” s and “ uh” s at first, watching as Apollo trembled in place.
This had to be it. He had to be right about feeling so off these past months. All of his worries and his odd experiences were about to come to light. All of these sleepless nights were going to be answered and all of his anxieties would be appeased. He knew Phoenix knew that he couldn’t lie to him, and he could see the very slow cogs turning behind Phoenix’s foggy brain. This is it. This is finally it.
“Phoenix? Close the door, you’re letting the light in and I am sleeping .”
Mr. Edgeworth’s irritated tone echoed out from the room, and both of the men froze.
No, no, no , Apollo internally cursed as he knew his question was being shut down. He was not going to be able to get the answers he wanted.
“I’m sorry, Apollo,” Phoenix said as he started to close the door. “She told me not to tell you yet.”
“Wait— Mr. Wright!”
Click.
Damnit.
Damnit! The sleepless nights became unbearable again, and Apollo was showing up to work with dark eyebags. It became so awful that he did what he’d been doing about his family life for years.
He forced himself to forget.
Every thought he had, he forcibly trained into the back of his mind, tying it down and locking it away where he never had to see it again. He let those urges and questions starve to death in a dark corner of his mind. Who cares anyways? He has his family now. Athena and Mr. Wright and Trucy were all he needed. He didn’t need to dive deeper into why they were, they just were . And one day, he was able to make peace with that. And he stopped thinking about it. He made peace. He was at peace.
+
A lot can happen in the span of a year.
Apollo stretched his arms above his head as he entered his lived-in law offices, just on the outskirts of the bazaar in Khura’in. He’d had an early start to the morning, as he had met up with his brother for breakfast—something they’d settled on doing once a week, once all was at a steady pace. Nahyuta hosted this time, and Apollo was able to retry an old Khura’inese dish he hadn’t had since he was a child. They reminisced on the past, caught up on the present, planned for the future, and then bid farewell for the morning. They’d see each other soon, as a trial was approaching soon.
Now, Apollo settled in at the office. Datz wasn’t there yet, or if he’d already stopped in, he left again for whatever reason. But no matter, he mostly just helped with maintenance and keeping Apollo from losing his mind in solitude, popping in and out throughout the day.
Apollo shed his jacket and then stopped by the small altar they had set up. As he always did after breakfast with Nahyuta, he retrieved the small napkin with little portions of food leftover and set it in front of Dhurke’s center picture, greeting the still captured grin as he lit a candle. Realistically, he knew the photograph couldn’t hear a word he was saying, but his time in Khura’in made Apollo hopeful, so he talked the invisible ear of his father off, hoping he was listening. Hoping he was proud.
Apollo finally let go of that hold he’d had on his old memories of his family. He’d let them go, and learned and relearned about all of the people who raised him and loved him into the man he became.
After his morning father-son check in, he moved to the mail slot, grabbing a fat pile of letters, most of them being either junk mail or letters of request. So, he sat at the desk and began to sort them, hoping to find a check in letter from the U.S., from all of his friends and family. While they did text him, and email as well, the international phone calls wracked up on the bill, so they kept communication that way somewhat limited. Plus, there was something special about getting physical mail.
As he sorted, he allowed himself to zone out as he fell into a rhythm of back and forth. Junk, junk, request, request, request, request, junk, request, junk, junk…
Until he almost discarded a letter that didn’t fit either.
Apollo blinked as he pulled the letter back in front of him, brows furrowing at a first name he didn’t recognize in the return address location, but a last name that stuck out like a sore thumb.
Thalassa Gramarye…?
He’d heard a bit about Trucy’s family, and though the first name never stuck, he slowly registered it as Trucy’s biological mother. But as far as Apollo knew, she had passed in an accident. He knew there had been some stir of remembrance and discovery—he briefly recalls his sleepless nights before moving on again—but he thought it was just discovery. A post-mortem discovery.
So why was a dead woman writing to him?
With trembling, curious hands, Apollo tore at the envelope, careful not to rip the return address away. He pulled out a tri-folded sheet of paper, delicately smoothing it out.
Apollo,
Apologies for such a startling message. I’m sure it must come as a great shock that I have your new law office’s address. I hope you do not mind that Trucy gave it to me so I was able to reach you. I’ve been meaning to talk to you, I have been continuously urged to, and I have finally felt like the time is right.
While I’m sure you wouldn’t recognize me by my true name, I assure you we have met. You have been a great help to me, and I have tried to keep as much contact as I have felt is appropriate. However, I think it is only fair to be completely honest with you. You shouldn’t go in total ignorance your entire life.
By the Gramarye name, I’m sure you have realized that I am Trucy’s biological mother. I am also yours.
Apollo had to stop reading for a minute. Or, rather, he reread the last line a multitude of times, in pure disbelief. He could feel his throat closing up and his eyes burning with hot tears. He pushed on.
My first husband was Jove Justice, whom I briefly left Troupe Gramarye to be with. That is when I had you. After his terrible, fatal accident in Khura’in, which I was not there for, I returned to Troupe Gramarye out of sadness and unable to reach you.
I’m sorry. I should have done more for my only child. I was young and afraid, and it’s something I can never take back.
I am not looking for forgiveness, but I would love to get to know my son. Trucy and I have decided to keep contact and keep in touch, but I know it’s more difficult for you for many reasons.
Best regards, my son,
Lamiroir
And attached were two photos. One of the woman he’d met nearly three years previously, though the photo looked much, much older. She was sitting outside in front of a forest landscape, with two, golden bracelets on her wrists. Apollo’s free hand bumped against his own bracelet as he flipped to the next picture.
He couldn’t see the face of the man in the picture, but he could tell it was Jove. In it, he could see the man’s hands and woman’s hands joined, one bracelet on each wrist. It was a wedding. The photo was blurry, worn and aged, and torn around the corners.
Apollo felt like he was about to burst, but he couldn’t move. His chest was full and hot, overwhelmed with anger, and joy, and sadness, and confusion, and hatred, and love, and he couldn’t breathe.
He wanted to scream.
Why now? Why not sooner? Why at all?
Why?
Why did she leave him in the first place?
Why were all of these doubts crawling back up into his mind?
He finally felt something burst and he screamed, slamming his hands on the desk in front of him, his neat piles of sorted mail jumping with the creaky furniture and scattering.
With shaking hands and hot tears in his eyes, Apollo grabbed his phone and dialed the first number he could think of.
It rang.
And it rang.
Until it clicked
“Hey, ‘Pollo!” Mr. Wright’s voice echoed happily. There was a small chatter in the background, what sounded like the TV, and Trucy and Edgeworth bickering over it. “ To what do I owe the pleasure? I thought you’d be working by now—“
“How long have you known?” Apollo’s voice came out choked and teary, the hand holding the letter clutching so tight that it crumpled half the note.
“…I’m sorry?”
“How long, Mr. Wright? How long have you known about my mother? How long have you known about me and Trucy?! How long?!”
He supposed he’d gotten louder, because the chatter in the back died down.
“Look, kid… I wanted to tell you, but—“
“You knew?! This whole time?! And no one thought to tell me! Not a single person?!”
“She wanted to wait until the time was right—“
“The time was right ?! When is the right time to not neglect your first born?!” Apollo screamed into the phone as he stood up, his chair clattering to the floor behind him. “I waited almost twenty five years! I have gone my whole life having no idea who my mother was! I thought she was dead! What mother doesn’t even think to see her own son?! I just wanted a fucking family!”
The phone was quiet. No TV, no bickering, no Phoenix. All Apollo could hear were his own, pitiful, soft sobs as he waited through the silence.
“I’m sorry it had to be this way,” phoenix finally said. “And I can't change your hurt. It’s up to you what you want to do from here, okay? And Trucy told me she wants to talk to you about all of this, when you are ready of course.”
Apollo only sniffled again.
“You’re not alone anymore. You have us. And we’re not leaving you any time soon, kid.”
“…yeah?”
“Yeah. Promise. Whenever you’re ready, if ever you’re ready, I have ways you can get in contact with her.”
“Thank you… Mr. Wright.”
“You got it, Apollo.” There was a brief pause where neither of them knew what to do, just soaking in the familiar silence, the comfort of knowing there was someone in Apollo’s corner. “Hey, uh… have a good work day.”
“Uhm. Yeah. And you have a good night.”
Another pause. And then the phone clicked off.
Apollo stared at the desk, at the half crumpled letter he had eventually thrown back onto the worn down wood. The only sounds he could hear were gentle winds outside, rattling distant wind chimes and stall roofs. In that, Apollo swore he could hear the familiar voice of The Guitar’s Serenade . The hair on his arms felt like it was standing up straight as he took hesitant steps to the desk, reaching for a clean sheet of paper and a pen, which he clutched tightly in his hand as he repositioned his chair at the desk.
He took a deep breath.
Thalassa,
I got your letter.