His Last Request

“Wright?” Kristoph says from the other side of the table, with his lip twitching, “I’ve only been arrested for two days. What makes you visit so soon? Or is the humiliation of your accusations not enough?”

Phoenix smiles a little. Kristoph doesn't usually act this way with him, not so directly, but the pain of having consequences for his actions still burns.

“It’s nice to see you too. About the reason for my visit…There’s something that has been bothering me.”

Kristoph scans his face. For him, even after all those years, Phoenix’s still the same man, a fool made of glass. Looking through it, he can already tell why he’s here.

“Be quick, I have run out of patience for you.”

“It’s about your dog, Vongole. As you know, I’ve always gotten along with her, and…”

“Do you want to take her in?” Kristoph laughs. “I thought that, as someone who used to be a defense attorney, you’d know about the therapy pet program in prisons. But that’s expecting too much from you.”

Phoenix looks at him with a blank expression, he won’t engage in his bickering.

“I do know about it… though I don’t see your point.”

“Vongole was given to me as, precisely, a therapy dog after an… incident,” he says with a slightly darker tone, adjusting his glasses; a gesture now clumsy because of his handcuffs.

“Oh…”

“So there’s no reason for her not to be allowed in here, really. Thanks for your… concern, but Vongole is safe and sound with her dad,” he says with a smile.

“And what a dad,” Phoenix replies, raising a brow, “Although… Where would she go when… I mean, in the case of…?”

“My execution? Ha. I know you’re anxiously awaiting it… Well. I indicated that Vongole will stay with my butler, until you and my dear brother reach an agreement on who will be her permanent companion.”

“An agreement? With prosecutor Gavin?” he asks hesitantly, “Consider it done.”

“I hope I can at least keep Vongole for a few days. I really love her,” Phoenix thinks.

Then, he takes out a deck of cards.

“Since we’re here, do you want to play poker?” he says smugly.

“These games aren’t allowed in here.”

“I have some privileges too, you know.”

A long time later… That day, that one moment arrived, and left just as fast. Just like Kristoph’s life disappearing from his eyes. Just like turning off a light. 

Phoenix is, unfortunately, present during the execution. There’s a strange untied rope in his chest. Before, he thought all of this would tie it, somehow. That it’d give him closure… but he feels something different: disappointment, because he never figured out who Kristoph really was.

When it’s over, he cries much more than he expected or wanted. He weeps in the parking lot over the death of his very mortal enemy.

Then, he hears a low voice: “Mr. Wright.”

“Oh, shit. You dropped your fake accent and everything…” Phoenix replies too honestly when he sees Klavier.

Klavier smiles tearfully.

“It hurts to finally pull the arrow out of our chests… j-ja?”

He tries to stop himself from crying any more.

“Uh-huh.”

They stand there in silence, both about to break into pieces. They share a glance, thinking “Is he hurting too?”

Klavier steps closer. “Should I hug him?”

Phoenix does as well, they don’t move. 

“…You look awful, by the way,” Phoenix says, simply to hear something in response.

Klavier raises his brows and touches his lower lid, his eyeliner is smudged.

“Just… mimicking your style.”

“…Jerk.”

“You started it.”

Klavier leans on a wall, struggling to light a cigarette. Then, he sucks in the smoke, holds it in and his breath as well, and exhales. He doesn’t look ‘cool’ like in the movies at all, simply tense.

Since the incident with his guitar, he’s been terrified of the smell of smoke. When he’s walking through a street, through the prosecutor’s building or anywhere, and smells it, or sees something similar, no matter how faint it is… He has to stop what he’s doing to see where it comes from.

Edgeworth was making coffee, once:

“Something the matter?” he asked then.

How could Klavier have told him he was afraid someone had died, again?

So he made himself coffee too, and found that having the source of the smoke—or steam, in that case—right in front of him calmed him down a little.

And that brings him back here, with a cigarette in his hand.

Meanwhile, Phoenix looks at him, wondering how to actually strike a conversation… Something to distract them from what happened.

“Um…”

They look at each other one more time, and Phoenix leans against the bricks as well.

“Um. Isn’t that bad for your… uh… voice?”

Klavier shrugs.

“What does it matter? I haven’t been on a stage since… when? A year?”

“But you’ll come back, right?”

Klavier shrugs again. He looks sideways at Phoenix now, then at the floor. 

“Soon I will.”

At that moment, Psychlocks emerge from Klavier’s heart, clinking along with the chains trapping him. The shiny locks are the color of a scarlet rose, but they’re still heavy in his soul. The suffocating chains, full of brown spots and dust, are proof of that.

“You don’t seem so sure.”

Klavier sighs, and keeps trying to smoke.

“I guess I’m not good at pretending.”

“That’s fine. I mean, something’s… everything’s wrong,” Phoenix says nervously, blinking the tears away.

“Yes…”

“We share that.”

“We share so many horrible things.”

There’s silence again. Phoenix breathes in and says: 

“Yeah, and we should have talked about them much, much earlier…” He nearly begs: “So, hey, you can talk to me… and then I can talk to you… and we can talk to each other.”

Klavier gulps, looks up slowly, and scans his face. It’s the first time he’s ever bothered without it feeling like staring at the sun.

As expected, Phoenix looks older than he was when they first met in court. He has almost completely faded scars all over his cheeks, his forehead, his brows… probably from fighting angry customers that lost poker games with him.

That’s not what matters, though. The most important change is to his eyes. They’re dark, tired. They still shine, but it’s possible the stars in them are already dead, showing old light.

“But I don’t know who you are.”

“You don’t know how to smoke either… and look at what you’re doing.”

Klavier smiles a little. One of the Psychlocks starts to break.

“Well… I can learn.”

Phoenix’s eyes widen.

“Oh, no, you shouldn’t. I’m telling you, legally blond, it’s really addictive.”

Klavier tilts his head.

“I mean that I can learn how to talk to… what?”

“Smoking is addictive,” Phoenix repeats, waggling his finger.

“Legally blond?”

“Oh! That’s your nickname now,” he says with his hands out, smiling awkwardly, “Sorry, I don’t make the rules.”

“You do…” He pauses to come up with a nickname for him. “…Mr. Wright.”

Phoenix snorts, crossing his arms.

“Lame.”

Days later, Phoenix and Apollo are at the courtroom lobby, after the latter faced his rival.

“You did well.”

Apollo smiles, frowning.

“Thanks. You’re acting different these days, right?” he says quietly.

He’s been talking like that since Kristoph’s absence. It's calmer when he doesn’t use his Chords of Steel, but it also worries Phoenix.

He winces, remembering all the times he was rude to him. Mostly, it was to keep his plan to jail Kristoph a secret, but his trust issues made that act much overplayed.

“Yeah… maybe.”

“Good for you, Mr. Wright. Um, by the way, prosecutor Gavin said he wanted to have a word with you. He’s waiting at the door.”

“He kept calling you Sans for some reason. It took us a while to figure out who he was talking about,” Trucy adds.

“It took you a while. How can you not know Undertale?”

“Y-yeah, honey, how can you not know… Undertell?”

Phoenix hears Apollo laughing as he leaves to meet Klavier. He doesn't know what any of these weird words mean, but at least he’s happy.

When Phoenix steps outside, a soft, white ball of cuteness jumps on him, almost throwing him to the floor. Vongole licks Phoenix’s face as he laughs.

“Aw! Hey, little bear! I missed you too!”

Phoenix taps Vongole’s back, and she automatically sits. He pets her, and Klavier stands in front of them, smiling with his arms crossed.

“She really loves you.”

Phoenix smiles, still a little nervous to talk to him.

“Thanks for bringing her here, man.” He gets up. “I thought I had imagined the barking. Was she playing around in the courthouse?”

“Yes, Herr Edgeworth looked after her during the trial.” He pauses. “Mein Bruder’s personal representative told me about his last request, and I thought I should…”

They finish the sentence at the same time:

“…give her up to you.”

“…keep her.”

Both of them frown.

“Wait, what? Why would you give your brother’s dog to me?”

“Uhh.”

“Is it because of…? Ugh. Are you dumb?” Phoenix says with annoyance.

“Don’t you deserve this more than I do?”

Psychlocks appear as he says that. He’s, in fact, not dumb. 

“What even…?” Phoenix sighs. “You know what? Come, there’s a cafe nearby that allows dogs. I'm not having another conversation with you without sitting down…”

Klavier mutters an “okay”, but Phoenix doesn’t hear it because he’s already walking and stretching his back.

“I guess this is what I’m doing today,” they both think.

Phoenix and Klavier go to the cafe, it’s a pretty small but charming establishment not too far from the courthouse. It has food and water dispensers for the customers’ pets, and a large play area. Klavier notices how Phoenix talks to the staff as if he knew them well, they know what coffee he likes and where he usually sits. 

A man with light hair says: “You haven’t been here in a while, Wright. It’s nice to see you again.”

It’s then when Klavier thinks that this is probably the place Phoenix and Kristoph hung out when they wanted to bring Vongole. Klavier bites his lip nervously.

“Oh my god… Klavier Gavin? Can we take a picture, please?! I love your music!” the man asks desperately.

“Ja, of course, Herr Owner!” Klavier replies with a dazzling smile, playing with a lock of hair, as if the previous thought didn’t exist.

The man takes out his phone, and in the brief moment in which he searches for the camera on his apps, Phoenix sees Klavier without his celebrity mask.

He’s moving his thumb over the side of his knuckle, and staring at his reflection on the black front desk with disgust. Phoenix gives him a sad look, maybe it wasn’t a good idea to drag him here.

“There!” says the man, “Excuse me, it’s a new phone and I’m still not used to it.”

Klavier and the man make a peace sign and take a selfie.

“Thank you! So, Wright, you want a red eye. What about you, rockstar?”

Klavier and Phoenix sit by the window and watch Vongole play with the other dogs as they wait for their orders. Phoenix turns around, Klavier still has that sad expression on his face, even though he’s trying to hide it.

“I should cheer him up before talking about what we came here for,” he thinks.

“Hey. Did you recognize that guy?”

“The owner? No, who is he?”

“Well, he used to be a prosecutor like you. He acted all mysterious and used the alias Godot, like the book! Can you believe it?”

“Oh…”

“That’s how we met, and then he opened this cafe. I started coming here after long trials, or long days in general… Really helps me relax.”

“After long trials…?” Klavier thinks, “So he didn’t come to this place with my brother. I got so sad over nothing…”

“Ah, I see. That’s funny,” he says nervously, with his cheeks slightly red due to the embarrassment.

Phoenix looks at him for a second, and their orders arrive. Then, he says:

“Yeah. Anyway… Vongole. You say you want me to keep her because you feel guilty or something, but I know that’s not true. You weren’t telling me the truth the other day either: you’re not planning on resuming your music career, or at least not soon…”

Klavier stares at him, wide-eyed. His tone of voice and expression are completely different from usual.

“What? How can you…?”

He puts his magatama on the table.

“…Oh. That’s one of the magatamas the Fey clan uses, isn’t it? I read about them in law school. I should have guessed you’d have one.”

Klavier sighs.

“Why would you want to know what I’m hiding, anyway?” He gestures to Vongole outside. “I can keep her if you don't want to, I don’t mind either way. But I’d rather not be cross-examined by you.”

“Well, I just don't want you to be alone, with all of this…”

Klavier lowers his head, still looking at him.

“Thanks. But—but I don’t need your pity, Mr. Wright.”

Phoenix begins to say something, but stops himself. This isn’t an investigation, and he’s not about to tear Klavier open as he used to do with everyone.

Phoenix bites his lip, this is even more awkward than his first date, somehow.

“I just—I just want you to know…”

“That I can talk to you?”

“Yes…”

“I know ,” Klavier says—with annoyance, Phoenix thinks. But Klavier’s upset with himself. “And it’s nice to hear, seriously. But… but, I simply… can’t look at you and don’t remember it. God , I can’t look at her either! I’m so sorry… I just want to lock myself in my office for the rest of my life…”

He closes his eyes, and grabs his head with his hand. The other one… He opens his eyes again. Phoenix is holding his other hand on the table. Phoenix’s is soft and warm and it makes something in Klavier’s chest move like a lava lamp.

“It’s okay, man, same here…” he says, and laughs awkwardly. A pained chuckle, “But, really. When has avoiding each other forever helped us?”

“...Never.” 

“Yeah. That’s what I'm saying.”

Klavier’s eyes dart around. He realizes how wet they are.

“Thanks.”

He stops grabbing his hair, and leans forward a little.

“You know. I miss him,” he admits too honestly.

“Me too. We—we’ll be alright.”

Klavier smiles. Then, Phoenix lets go of his hand and grabs his coffee cup instead.

“I think we can share Vongole’s… er… custody? You keep her the first three days of the week, I keep her the last three. What do you think?”

“Sounds good. But what about Sunday?”

“Oh! Um…”

“How about we meet up and decide then? Like, it's different every week depending on who’s available?”

“Yeah, sure. I can’t believe I forgot that weeks have seven days for a moment.”

Klavier drinks his coffee with his brows raised.

“Maybe a little birdy told me you sleep through all that day,” he says, referring to Apollo’s complaints about Phoenix’s laziness.

Phoenix blushes.

“Ugh, maybe a little birdy will become roasted chicken, then.”

After a while, they leave the cafe with Vongole.

“It’s Monday, so you're keeping her today, right?” Klavier says as he holds the door for Phoenix.

“Yup.”

They stand there for a minute again, and Klavier takes out a pack of cigarettes. 

He knows that he’s hurting himself with that, and still, he can’t stop. Maybe it's the fact that he's hurting himself that's motivating him…

But at least he has a new friend.

“Nice seeing you today,” Klavier says, flashing a smile.

“I'm glad. I had a good time,” he replies with his hands in his pockets. His face feels hot for some reason.

“See you next week.”

“Not if I see you first,” he jokes, and they part.

Because if he’s gonna see him every damn week, with that smile he has, then he'll probably drop dead.