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“Hey, kiddo,” Phoenix taps his hand on Trucy’s doorway, walking his fingers up the frame like he’s trying to be a cool, casual dad. “You got a minute?”
“Sure!” Trucy smiles, turning around to face him. She’s his pride and joy, but god, she’s grown up. The girl he adopted is just a whisper of the kid she is now – she’s got a hell of a head on her shoulders, processing her biological father’s disappearance more maturely than most adults would, and insisting on performing at the Wonder Bar every night because (and Phoenix hates admitting this) the extra money really is helpful.
He looks at her, in her new, blue magician’s outfit. They’d picked the fabric out together, and he’d pulled all his knowledge from art school to remember how to sew, even though it had felt like picking the brains of a stranger. She beams up at him, showing the pink hearts she’s temporarily got dangling from her hat. She’s everything he could ask for as a daughter; he wishes he could give her what she deserves. Stability. Enough money to buy her everything she could ever want. A family.
Edgeworth sends postcards from Europe, which is arguably worse than doing nothing at all. Phoenix bitterly hates him sometimes (and hates himself more for acknowledging it) for showing her all the wonderful places he won’t whisk her away to. All the things she can’t have, and a little taste of love every month and a half from a new city she’s never heard of before. It’s not enough. Trucy deserves the world.
“You know how Uncle Miles can’t make it to your special Valentine’s show?” He says.
Trucy nods. “It’s alright,” she smiles. “There’ll still be plenty of other people in the audience!”
“Yeah,” Phoenix beams with pride. “How would you feel if I brought Kristoph?”
“Ooo… I’d like that! I think I’d have to practice extra hard, though, because he’ll see through all the amateur tricks at the beginning!” She turns back to her desk, absorbed in a thought in that distinctly Trucy way of hers, running to write it down before she forgets. “Box…” she mumbles. “Mirrors – smaller? Bigger?”
“So, is that a yes?” Phoenix chuckles.
“Yes, yes!” Trucy says. “We need to leave in an hour! I’ve got a lot of work to do now… oh, I have to workshop this… and this…”
Her voice trails off, and Phoenix leaves her to do her thing. He figures that the best parents are the ones who are actively enthusiastic, but still know when to back off and let their kids be people. Although, he’s not too sure – this whole thing was kind of thrust on him unexpectedly, after all. And it’s hard, figuring it out alone.
He takes out his phone, finding Kristoph’s number at the top of his recent calls. It rings for a while before Kristoph picks up, although by this time he should well have finished work and already be at home.
“Hello,” Kristoph says, smoothly, down the line. He always begins phone conversations like this; pristinely but coolly, as though he doesn’t trust the number until he hears the caller speak.
“Hey,” Phoenix says. “Only me.”
“Pleasure to hear from you. I presume our usual spot?”
“No, actually, uh… what are you doing in an hour? Trucy’s got this show, see, and I’ve got an extra ticket going.”
“Is this you asking me on a date?”
Phoenix can hear the curl of Kristoph’s smirk through the phone, but instead of scaring him, he smiles at the familiar image, knowing it now in its wider context of Kristoph Gavin as a human being.
“Kind of,” he explains. “It’s a Valentine’s show, so I guess it would be a date.”
“Ah, yes, Valentine’s Day. Should I prepare to receive flowers?”
“Don’t push it, Gavin. Be here in an hour.”
“I haven’t said yes, yet,” Kristoph says.
“Or don’t, then.”
But, exactly an hour later, as Trucy is lugging large boxes up and down the apartment stairs to the Wonder Bar transport van outside, the doorbell rings and it couldn’t be anyone else but Kristoph.
Really: it couldn’t.
Phoenix opens the door to see that Kristoph looks… nice. No strings attached, no snarky comments, just nice. He’s standing at the door with a bouquet of roses in his hands, his hair perfectly twisted and his shirt ironed without a crease. As Trucy goes to make another trip downstairs, she sees him and puts the box she’s carrying down, waving as she says, “Heya, Uncle Kris!”
It might just be the shitty apartment lighting, but Phoenix has never seen that smile on Kristoph’s lips before. The visible softening of an unbreakable man.
“These are for you,” Kristoph says, handing the roses to Trucy. “I believe they say: break a leg.”
“Aww, thanks!” Trucy takes the flowers and puts them in an upturned magician’s hat on the side table, pouring water seemingly out of her cape to keep them fresh. “Are you coming to watch the show?”
“I absolutely am. Do you need a hand with that box?”
“Nah, I’m good. Thanks, though!” Trucy lifts the box up and crosses the threshold of the apartment. “This is the last of them. Daddy, I’ll hitch a ride in the WonderVan, ‘cause I need to set some stuff up before the show starts. But don’t be late, okay? Follow right behind me!”
“Will do, kiddo.”
As Trucy leaves, Kristoph slides into the apartment and shuts the door behind him. He tugs at the collar of Phoenix’s shirt, pushing him against the wall as he presses a wet, biting kiss into the skin of his neck. Then, he covers up the mark with Phoenix’s shirt, looks him in the eyes (god, he’s so unbelievably hot, Phoenix thinks), and dangles his car keys in between their faces. “Shall we go?” He says.
“You’re so possessive,” Phoenix drawls. “No-one’s gonna take me from you right now, princess.”
“Oh, really? Am I incorrect in thinking that I am taking Miles Edgeworth’s ticket to the show?”
“He’s not come back in months. Why bring him up?”
“He’s a big part of our relationship,” Kristoph shrugs. “But if you’d rather I don’t mention him, I’m sorry. I truly am glad that you invited me.”
“Yeah, well, I’m glad you’re coming,” Phoenix says. “It kind of sucks for her, you know? Edgeworth makes all these promises when he’s around, but…”
“I thought we weren’t talking about him?”
“Yeah. You’re right. Sorry. Yeah, I, uh… I don’t want to talk about it. He’s got stuff going on, I get it. I guess being a dad means I’m always trying to give my little girl the best.”
“She’s really something,” Kristoph says. “She’d make a fine prosecutor.”
They leave the apartment, walking down to Kristoph’s sleek, black car. The WonderVan has already taken off, but Phoenix knows from personal experience that it’s an old thing, and won’t have anywhere near the speed that Kristoph’s imported European car can reach. Pulling out onto the main road, Kristoph drives with one hand on the steering wheel, one hand on Phoenix’s thigh.
“What does Trucy know about us?” He asks. “Or, should I say, how much?”
“Not the gory details,” Phoenix laces his fingers into Kristoph’s. “She thinks we’re… close friends.”
“She called me Uncle Kris.”
“Yeah. She’s very familial.”
“I’m not complaining,” Kristoph says. “Few people are allowed the privilege of shortening my name to a nickname. And no – you’re not one of them.”
“You know I’ve got better things to call you,” Phoenix smirks.
Kristoph’s hand tenses.
The car speeds up a little, merging onto the motorway and immediately moving to the middle lane to overtake. The way Kristoph weaves through traffic like ink through water is impressive, really, and the way he does it without ever breaking a driving law is downright unbelievable. Soon enough, they’re parking at the Wonder Bar, getting out of the car to join the considerably long line of people showing their tickets to get into the venue.
“Don’t you have VIP passes or something?” Kristoph nudges Phoenix, folding his arms. As smart as his shirt is, it seems pretty useless without a sturdy jacket over it. “I thought family got to push the queue.”
“Nah, it’s not like a big stadium or anything. They just check the code on your phone. There’s not even assigned seats.”
“Good god, Wright, where have you brought me?”
The queue shuffles forwards at a slow but continuous pace.
“It’s for Trucy, remember?” Phoenix says, feeling his own voice become stern. “This means a lot to her. She’s been planning this show for weeks.”
He shows the code on his phone, and the ticket attendant ushers both him and Kristoph inside, where the lights are already dimmed. Most of the attendees are gathered around the bar at the back, getting their pre-show drinks before the official start time, and Phoenix uses the opportunity to secure a good spot right at the front. He and Kristoph take their seats, and people around them begin to do the same.
The curtains come up, and Trucy is smiling on stage, posing with her hand on her hip and her magic wand pointed high in the air. She makes a large circle with her arm, and pink glitter flies out of the tip of the wand, showering the stage in Valentine’s themed confetti as two large smoke cannons fire out a plume of red mist that engulfs her completely. When it clears, she’s dressed in a heart-printed version of her regular outfit.
The crowd cheers.
“Woooo!” Phoenix yells, cupping his hands around his mouth. “Go Trucy! Great quick change! That’s my girl!”
Kristoph, next to him, claps enthusiastically.
She gets straight into the next trick, pulling a series of Valentine’s themed gifts out of her hat and throwing them into the adoring crowd. She releases fake doves that are startlingly realistic, sings a song without moving her mouth, and hypnotises an audience member into proposing to the stranger next to him. Every time, Phoenix cheers her on, and every time, he hears next to him that Kristoph is doing the same.
It’s so strange, hearing his voice like that. It’s not the shout of an Objection!, but a smiling yell of genuine support. His hands – which normally move coldly, like liquid – are vigorous in their clapping, and he even yells out Trucy’s name a few times, although that seems to be a bit much for him as he covers his mouth in embarrassment afterwards.
The show continues for nearly the entire hour, and by the time Trucy is almost ready to wrap up, Phoenix’s mouth hurts from smiling.
“Aaaaand, for my final trick,” Trucy smiles. “I’m going to need a volunteer. Actually – two volunteers. A couple!”
She directs the spotlight with her finger around the audience, passing over couples with their arms in the air, begging to be picked.
It lands directly on Phoenix and Kristoph.
Shielding his eyes from the light, Phoenix takes Kristoph’s hand without even questioning it – because he would never dream of showing Trucy up at her own show – and walks them both onto the stage. Being up here isn’t like performing at the Borscht Bowl Club; the audience is far bigger, and consequently he can’t actually see them at all. They’re just a grey mass at the bottom of the stage, which he can see in intricate detail underneath the bright halogen lights dangling from the ceiling. And, in this white light, he can also see Kristoph, next to him, illuminated in such a way that no part of him can hide in shadow.
He looks a little taken aback, and nervous in a way that Phoenix hasn’t seen him before. It’s very endearing, actually, the little blush on his cheeks as he turns his face to the side, the way Edgeworth always used to do.
It feels very accurate that, at this moment, Trucy brings out an arrow.
“This,” she holds it up to the audience. “Is a real arrow. See – pointy tip and all.”
She verifies it with a few front-row attendees, before fitting it carefully into a gaudy pink bow, decorated with paper hearts. “But this is my magic bow,” she continues explaining. “If you fire an arrow from this bow at someone you really, truly love, then it won’t hurt them at all!”
The crowd awwwws.
“But!” Trucy bends down, like she’s telling a scary story to a group of young children. “If you fire it at someone you don’t love… BAM! Real arrow, real damage.”
The crowd oooohs.
She walks Kristoph over to one end of the stage, handing him the bow, and then leads Phoenix over to the other end.
You sure, kiddo? Phoenix mouths.
Positive. Trucy mouths back.
“So,” Trucy stands in the middle of them, facing the crowd. “We’re about to test whether these two really love each other!”
Heading over to Kristoph, she holds out the microphone to catch both of their voices. Phoenix watches from the other end of the stage, making brief eye contact with Kristoph before he has to turn away and face the audience.
“Tell the audience your name,” Trucy says.
“Kristoph,” Kristoph says, smiling. “I’m here with my partner, Phoenix.”
“Otherwise known as my Daddy – everyone give him a cheer!”
The crowd claps and shouts, and Phoenix has a horrible moment of worry that somebody is filming this, will put it on the internet, and then Edgeworth will stumble upon a video of Kristoph Gavin calling him his partner and he’ll have to explain everything that he’s not ready to explain yet.
He trusts Trucy. He has to trust Trucy. They know each other so well. So what is she trying to tell him?
“Well, Kristoph, do you feel confident that you love my Daddy enough to shoot my magic bow at him? Bear in mind, if you hurt him, I will put you in a box and saw you in half!”
“Haha,” Kristoph laughs. “I’m confident I love him. But I’m not entirely confident in my ability to aim this thing!”
That one gets a laugh out of the crowd.
“You’ll be fine – I can do it, and I’m just a kid! Just aim straight, pull back, and release. If you dare…”
Trucy stands back, clearing the stage, and Phoenix is suddenly faced with the point of the arrow. It clearly looks different from this angle, but he couldn’t possibly figure out when Trucy managed to switch it. She invites the crowd to count down with her.
“Five!”
He looks at Kristoph’s hands, pulling the bow back tightly, the skin on the back of his hand revealing the scar that he’s only seen once or twice before, in the right light.
“Four!”
His eyes trace upwards, to the beads of sweat on Kristoph’s neck. Why is Trucy doing this? Is she trying to tell him that she approves of his little affair with Uncle Kris? Or is she cynical, like her father; is she putting Kristoph in a position where he will expose whatever nervous habit she’s got a way of detecting?
“Three!”
One thing is for certain, he knows this arrow isn’t going to kill him. He trusts his kid; her craftsmanship and her judgement.
“Two!”
Now, he meets Kristoph’s eyes. They’re focused, looking directly at him. His face is unreadable.
“One!”
He smiles. To Phoenix, or to himself?
The arrow flies, and halfway across the stage, it bursts into a small firework, puffing out spores of pink and red mist that pool over the entire stage, revealing a drop-down banner that says ‘THANK YOU FOR COMING!’
Trucy addresses the audience, giving her final bows. Phoenix looks at Kristoph, who is looking at him, and then she pulls them in with both of her hands and directs them to take a full-body bow with her as well. Dipping low, Phoenix turns his head to the side, and sees that Kristoph looks visibly… relieved.
But just this once, he won’t question it. Kristoph is relieved because he didn’t accidentally shoot a real arrow at him, like any reasonable person would be. So maybe Trucy is trying to tell him that she approves. And – what the hell. Doesn’t he deserve something good after all he’s been through?
The great thing about losing his badge is that he doesn’t have to look at all the evidence to form a conclusion anymore.