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attorneys-against-court-violence · 1 year ago

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It's too late for me to think coherent thoughts but I did want to at least call attention to this.

At the end of Dual Destinies, after the lawyers had done so much in so little time to unravel the phantom's schemes, I wanted to point out the way Simon reacts to each of them (and Aura) in their efforts. He's a pretty cagey guy - he's had a psyche tutor, a prosecutor's career and 7 years in jail to teach himself how to keep his emotions under a lid, so it's interesting to look at how and to what degree he shows trust and appreciation for the people around him.

Phoenix

Phoenix helped pull both Simon and Athena from their respective traumas and reassured them that there is no way either of them are guilty of murder. The closest to a "thank you" Simon gave him was entrusting him with the psyche profile. Which IS a big deal given it's the only tie he's had to Metis for seven years, so that more than speaks for itself. Of course he knew that Athena was the one who would make the best use of it and... well, was the defendant at the time. Still, passing it off to Wright (especially after speaking his disdain of attorneys as money-grubbing liars to his face in 5-DLC) is quite the gesture for the above reason.

I'm... lightly dubious about the relation they each have in regards to "The Dark Age of the Law". Phoenix's incident was much more unprecidented than yet another prosecutor being found guilty of murder. On top of that, Simon being responsible the people's mistrust due to his conviction is a bit silly when those aforementioned prosecutors were already found guilty.

But this isn't about that. This is about Simon and how he shows faith and appreciation of others. Joining Phoenix hand-in-hand in cutting the phantom down once and for all - a beast that Simon has abhored a lot longer than Phoenix ever could - is a pretty hefty sign that he has faith in the man. He by all rights earned it by unatangling the incident that chained him and Athena in the first place!

Miles Edgeworth

Edgeworth - as affective as his actions may have been up to this point (not at all) - had a vested interest in Simon's freedom as both subordinate and victim of what was essentially a kangaroo court. While his motives and theory on the matter went against Simon's wish to cover for Athena, Edgeworth was still the one Simon gave the honour of undoing his shackles. Quite a bit of trust and gratitude there despite their motives clashing at points. Just a shame we. Uh. Don't really get a chance to see why the two of them trust one another aside from wanting to end the Dark Age of the Law. Which sadly means I don't have much to share in this segment. Regardless, letting Edgeworth be the one to undo his cuffs is gesture enough to prove his opinion of the man.

Aura

Aura had done and threatened dreadful things to get to this point. Even still, without her hanging a guillotine over the legal system there likely wouldn't have been a chance of a re-trial to begin with (which... makes me wonder what the hell Edgeworth's been doing this entire time but anyways-). She very clearly believed Athena was the one at fault and went to great lengths to indict her, yet Simon did not waste time laying blame onto her for threatening the person he was protecting; she was desperate, frustrated and as much in the dark about what had actually happened as anyone else. Simon knew that, thanking her personally for giving them all the astronomically unlikely opportunity to finally put their phantoms to rest and apologising for the anguish he had caused through his self-sacrifice.

Simon tends to have a knack for seeing people for what they are beyond the surface. Beyond their connection as siblings, it would be easy to write Aura off as cruel and unreasonable, though we are given plenty to help us see her in a more sympathetic light despite that. Simon's self-sacrifice was a key cause of a lot of pain for her and they both share some grief over the loss of Metis Cykes. He doesn't really have a reason to drag her down any further, already feeling guilty for helping her along the path to desparation, and he already knows how she felt about his tutor.

Few people understand the emotionally closed-off and blunt such as the Blackquills and the Cykes quite like Simon does. Aura is no exception and his affection (stunted as it is) is apparent.

Athena

Athena goes without saying; of everyone in the WAA who was involved in the phantom's ultimate defeat, it was her he singled-out to thank and acknowledge for her incredible efforts in saving him from his sentance. He pretty clearly tells her in that moment that she's more important to him than his own life - a demonstrable fact given his actions and a powerful thing for someone so cagey and uncooperative to say. When the master of concealing his emotions wants you to know that you're an exceptionally important person to him in an uncharacteristically forward way, that's a huge deal.

She's the reason he went through with his conviction in the first place. He would lay down his own life if it meant she didn't have to bear the guilt of a crime so horrid as murdering her own mother. Simon even went as far as to emotionally distance himself, build up an image of an irredeemable criminal (likely reflecting how he felt about taking the blame as his mentor's/sister's partner's killer).

I suppose it helps that Athena can already read his intent through tone of voice. It means he can tease her while she knows it's all in good faith, yes, but it also means there's little point in keeping secrets from her. Now that he has no reason to do so, he's free to tell her something you would hear him say about seldom few, if any; that she is more important to him than his own life.

A Man of His Word

It's worth noting that Simon - doofus that he is - plays the whole honour-bound samurai thing straight. When he trusts you, he REALLY trusts you and will make exceptions that he wouldn't for anyone else. How do you think Fulbright got away with so much despite Simon's insistence on handling his mess on his own? The white-clad doppleganger practically had full-reign because he had, through false earnestness, earned Simon's utmost trust.

How willing Simon is to say to your face that he values you is highly dependant on how honour-bound he is to do so. Phoenix was the one that helped him and his lot on a practical level, though only have a passing connection to him. A small (but significant) gesture is plenty to get the point across. Edgeworth is a fellow co-worker, now boss, of his. How personally they know each other is for debate, but it's safe to say Edgeworth was invested in Simon's situation more than most others seemed to be. Allowing him to undo his handcuffs - those things that binded and shocked him for at least a year - a degree or two above what others who've proven themselves would get. Aura is Simon's sister. His appreciation for her and apologies for hurting her all the more through his false confession is expected even without the samurai nonsense. That Simon holds family in high-regard should not be a surprise.

Then there's Athena. Daughter of his mentor Metis, the one who guided him through his journey in psychology and even in his legal cases. The brilliant woman whom he treated as sovereign when she was alive (noted by Phoenix to be the actions of a lost soul more than anything). Athena - aside from getting along quite well with him despite her conditions - is seemingly the only direct descendant of that person, and her greatest treasure. I don't recall many people that, if spat upon, Simon would be enraged on their behalf besides Metis. Vehemently denying that she coldly used Athena for research while slamming the witness stand in anger.

Athena was the most important person to Metis so it stands that she would be very important to Simon as well. The fact that he was willing to die for her - even in spite of his sister's wishes - speaks volumes all on its own. The fact he felt the need to state outright his gratitude, how deeply he cares for Athena, for a man who'd rather let his actions speak for him? That is someone I can believe he would go to hell for and come back with a smile on his face.

Oh, and there's also Apollo.

Apollo...?

Do he and Simon even talk after the courtroom bombing? Then again, he was off on his own quest to unroot the seed of doubt in his mind rather than anything to do with UR-1 and so-on, so probably not much to say there. I am a bit surprised though, since Athena's innocence regarding Clay's murder was forefront in the lad's mind and Simon was the one to read out the forged fingerprint test that ultimately indicted her. Both of them putting so much stock into Fulbright's investigation had led Athena to be arrested in the first place (a fact Apollo is PISSED about), though neither seem to exchange words on it, nor do they the fact they were both driven by personal reasons in the trial prior to the bombing given how Simon criticised Apollo for that much.

(The "scumbag" referring to the phantom, not Simon.)

Although... later on, Simon finds it necessary to place his trust in Apollo's "cheat" (the same power that got the boy doubting Athena in the first place, which he revealed in the section prior) in order to weed out "Fulbright"'s lies and uncover the truth about the lighter that damned an important friend to both of them.

Notice Taka leaning in ready to swoop on Apollo before Simon turns to pet him, like he's assuring the bird that there's no need to be violent with Apollo this time. Apollo is the first lawyer to whom Simon voiced his disdain for defense attorneys. He accuses him of plotting to stall for time in order to forge evidence (which - given Apollo's history - would be quite the cut to the guy). He hacks away at him freely, calling him out for being biased in the case of Clay's murder. But once Apollo made his intentions clear in his "what's faith without doubt" bit and Phoenix removed said doubt, Simon allows him to conduct himself as he wishes. Despite implying that he still isn't a fan of the ability itself.

It's a nice turnabout given how brash he was with the lad. Part of me wishes they got more - more than he did with Phoenix at any rate - but I'll leave that for another time.

So What?

The what's pretty straightforward; Simon Blackquill often shows wordless gratitude to those who aren't strictly important to him, but did help him in very key ways. He's a closed-off guy who'd rather let his emotions go unspoken, though you can usually tell when he thinks of you in a good light.

It's the times where he does voice his appreciation of others - to go out of his way to make his feelings heard by those people - where you see who he values most in his life. His sister recieves both a thank you and an apology. Athena is told that she is more important than Simon's own life. The moments do warrant it too since they take place during and after the UR-1 retrial - easily the most emotionally turbulent day of their lives, save for the incident that brought it about in the first place.

#ace attorney spoilers #dual destinies spoilers #aa5 spoilers #turn your thinking around!#prosecutor birdman #the wright man for the job #the king of prosecutors #twin horned devil #the cykes brigade is totally cyked!#mr fine #hey look! a post that's been in the drafts and not a sudden ad-hoc essay!#bit of a long one too so watch out

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alleiwentcrazy · 2 years ago

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“Wow, man, that’s nasty. You should get that checked.”

Someone’s standing in the doorway, Steve’s sane enough to notice that. This someone is wearing the infamous hospital gown, is hooked to an IV, and has Nancy’s hair. Which is exceptionally weird, because Steve has always believed that no one could achieve that kind of volume. Especially while living in a hospital.

This someone is also, not unlike Steve, wrapped in several layers of dressings to shelter their burns from everything that’s bad in this world: infection, stares, more pain.

(Steve isn’t so certain about the last one, though. He sure is in a lot of pain at the moment.)

So someone is standing in the doorway, he’s positive. This someone is staring at him, their gaze curious and open, and it’s not a nurse, and it’s not a doctor. Partly that’s why Steve doesn’t believe that this person is even real at first. His visitors must wear gowns and gloves—something about it being too early to risk an infection. So despite the hair, it is not Nancy.

It’s a someone. Maybe. Probably. Steve doesn’t know—his eyes are barely open and he’s too high on painkillers to differentiate between dreams and reality. When the sweet numbness overwhelms him again, he has half a mind to say: Maybe it’s an angel, standing in my doorway.

***

As Steve’s recovery progresses (and the amount of painkillers he’s being pumped with decreases), he gets more and more aware of reality.

For starters, he learns that he’s not living some sort of fever dream. He was—is—a firefighter, who got pretty badly burned, and his sides, some parts of his belly, back and arms need very special and very expensive treatment. Hence the hospital bed, the gown, the dressings, meds, pain, et cetera. This burn center is going to be his home for the next few weeks, and Steve’s okay with that. It means that he got to save a life, even if his own was put at risk in the process.

He can live with that, definitely. With the scars and the pain, no problem. What’s killing him now is his own curiosity.

He hasn’t been seeing angels, turns out. He’s been seeing fellow patients – one patient in particular. That someone who hovered over the threshold when he first started his recovery. Steve’s been seeing him almost every day, taking slow steps across the hallway, dragging his IV behind him, the patchwork of dressings and scarring tissue changing frequently.

Without fail, each time this man passes Steve’s room, his steps slow down. Sometimes, he sends Steve a wink. On better days, Steve supposes, when the scarring on his cheek doesn’t bother him that much, he gives a flash of a smile. Even on the worst days, when walking serves as torture, he acknowledges Steve with a nod, like they know and respect each other.

Everything about him is a mystery to Steve, though. He, too, returns a small wave or a nod or anything, but he still half-believes he’s seeing things that aren’t there, so when this man with long, wavy hair and ridiculously brown eyes passes his room again, he can’t hold it back any longer.

“Beth, who’s that?” he asks. Beth, his nurse slash new hospital friend, looks over her shoulder. When she finally figures out what he means, she smiles.

“Isn’t that your angel?”

He looks at her completely mortified.

“Please, tell me you’ve just made that up.”

Beth laughs and adjusts the position of his bed. “Sorry, love. I’m afraid that everyone heard your delirious tirades about long-haired angels taking you to heaven.”

With how heavily her “everyone” implies everyone, he doesn't even have it in him to groan. He shouldn’t have listened to Robin when she told him that his high is one of the best things in the world.

***

“How come you never scream?”

Steve’s eyes have been shut tight for the whole time his doctor was poking and prodding around his wounds, but now they’re wide open and he, too, wants to ask himself that. How come he never screams? It’s the most pain he’s ever felt in his entire life. It’s ripping him apart, it’s eating him alive, it’s killing him, but he never screams.

He just keeps his eyes closed, waiting for it to be over. Thinking about Robin and his kids, about how he has to stay strong and never show fear because it’s his job to keep them safe and away from the pain even if—or maybe especially if—it comes with taking the pain on himself, bearing it, being torn by it. He keeps his eyes closed and doesn’t think about his failures or the times he was too late to save them; he keeps them shut because he knows that there are going to be more times when he’ll have to keep his eyes open to spot the danger ahead.

But his eyes are open now, open and staring at the man standing in his doorway, backlit and glowing like some non-human entity, asking him such a simple thing that will, without a doubt, make Steve circle down the drain when he’s alone again.

Steve doesn’t dare open his mouth. He’d scream if he tried, and he cannot afford to do that.

“Mr. Munson, you really shouldn’t be here right now.”

Steve shuts his eyes back again.

***

Steve’s recovery is slow, slower than anticipated. When he first got here, his doctors said he’d be able to walk soon-ish, but it’s way past “soon-ish” now and he’s still tied to his bed. It still hurts like hell, he’s still woozy from the painkillers, even though the strongest stuff is out of the question, he’s made sure of that. He’d rather feel everything than risk another embarrassing situation. Maybe it’s stupid, but that’s how it is.

Mainly, Steve just feels lonely. He’s allowed to have visitors, but they can’t stay with him as long as he’d like them to—mostly because they have lives outside of this hospital while Steve’s entire life is in this hospital. He’s lonely, he’s bored, and he’s envious out of his mind, because the man from his doorway gets his walks every day and Steve dreams of nothing but being able to move a little.

Each time Munson walks past his room, he stares. He can’t help it. He doesn’t have a mirror in here, but it’s painstakingly clear to him that he’s glaring daggers at a man that hasn’t done anything wrong. He’s just so jealous—his body aches, but it’s a different ache; it’s an ache of being still for too long. An ache of being out of the game. Steve hates being out of the game. It makes him come up with the worst possible scenarios—but he has to thank both his burns and his head trauma for the dizziness, weakness and total lack of coordination that keeps him from starting physio.

With each passing day, his stares get more daunting, but the man doesn’t stop sending him smiles and nods. He knows it’s irrational and unfair, taking out his own fears and anger on someone who can’t do anything about his situation, who’s in an equally shitty situation, actually, but he’s still working on not being mean without a reason. And it seems so harmless, because this stranger never stops smiling at him. No matter how much Steve tries, he can’t seem to convey his feelings, because Munson never stops.

It irritates him even more, enrages him to a point. When Munson smiles at him one day, Steve can’t take it anymore.

“Are you always this chirpy?” he asks, his voice dripping of malice. It disgusts him a little, makes him want to retreat—retreat far away from the version of himself that he dropped years ago, although it’s haunting him to this day. He wants to retreat, but he doesn’t. He pouts instead.

Munson stops in his tracks, raises one eyebrow. He looks amused, and it pisses Steve off.

“Your life must be quite miserable if walking around a hospital with unhealed wounds is your definition of chirpy,” Munson says. It’s supposed to sting, probably, but his smile is still there, despite his injured cheek. Steve’s pout deepens. Munson looks like a cat who got the cream. “Oof, soft spot. It’s okay, sweetheart,” he coos, looking like he’d like to lean against the doorframe, but his injured arm won’t let him. “We can be miserable—oh, sorry. Chirpy, we can be chirpy together.”

Steve doesn’t respond, he doesn’t know how. He feels warm all over. It’s not something he likes. He’d cross his arms over his chest if he could.

Munson stays silent for a moment, a smirk still playing on his lips. The quiet moment stretches out until he takes a big breath and takes a look around. “I’m Eddie, by the way. And I’m very, very late for my usual ‘walk as much as you can but be reasonable, Mr. Munson’ appointment, so I have to get going. But, uh,” he looks at Steve like he’s not sure of something for the first time in his life, even though he’s still playing along. “I could come around tomorrow, Mr…?”

“Steve,” comes the reply. Munson—Eddie smiles, again.

“Alright then, Mr. Steve. Get ready to be the chirpiest you’ve ever been.”

***

The worst thing is, it works. Steve does get chirpier.

It starts out small. Eddie just stops in front of the threshold, spits out the most random, obnoxious and seemingly nonsensical (although Steve suspects they’re all true) fact, like Did you know that cows have four stomachs? or Did you know that geckos can’t blink and they have to lick their own eyeballs to keep them from drying out? or something of sorts, and then he leaves while Steve lies in his bed, suspecting that he’s having hallucinations and fully questioning his sanity. Again.

It gets progressively worse, it does. It gets weirder. At first, Steve isn’t sure what to think of it. Eddie’s strange. He’s also a nerd. He talks in codes, his sentences are long and Steve finds it hard to follow his logic altogether from time to time. But he also makes Steve snort, sometimes even laugh—truly laugh, laugh from his belly. Eddie’s weird, but he’s Dustin-weird, Steve decides. Good-weird. Familiar-weird. Safe-weird.

He makes him feel less lonely. Steve invites him to sit beside his bed after a few days, so now Eddie comes, spits out his random nerdy facts, and they sit and talk around it until the nurses kick Eddie out for not doing his laps.

Steve’s less lonely. He’s so much less lonely he even starts missing Eddie when they’re not together—only a little, but he does. (He knows it’s dangerous. But what’s the harm in that if they’re both stuck here anyway? What’s the harm in a little hospital vulnerability?) It’s quite difficult not to miss Eddie, to be honest. Eddie makes it difficult—he listens when Steve talks, he never hesitates before explaining something when Steve doesn’t get it immediately, he’s patient, but at the same time, he talks so much. The room fills with intricate, engrossing stories and anecdotes whenever he opens his mouth.

The only moments when Steve feels even less less lonely than when he’s with Eddie is when he’s with Robin, and Robin’s the most important person in Steve’s life.

“Contraband,” Eddie says, sitting down on the edge of Steve’s bed one day. He puts something on Steve’s thing – cherry jello and a plastic spoon. His favorite. “Don’t rat me out.”

He smiles at Steve. His cheek is practically healed now; the scar isn’t as big as Steve imagined it from afar, but it sure as hell must have been a menace to get it more or less healed. That’s the only thing they don’t talk about. How they got here, how they got their scars. They support each other through it, but they never dwell.

At least Eddie doesn’t. Steve’s sure everyone knows his story – people love when firefighters let themselves get burned to a crisp while trying to save somebody else, after all, and gossip spreads around the hospital with the speed of plague.

“And get my best dealer behind bars?” Steve asks and scrapes a spoonful of jello from the cup. “They never have cherry. You’re the only one that seems to know where they store it.”

Eddie grins devilishly and leans a bit further. “Do you want to know a secret?” he asks and Steve mumbles something unintelligible in response. “I used to deal,” Eddie says. Steve’s not sure if he does it on purpose or not, but he starts playing with the hem of Steve’s sock, his fingers barely brushing the skin on Steve’s calf. It tingles, but he doesn’t mind.

Steve’s brows go up. “Is that how you got here?” he risks, not really knowing why. He’s not that curious—but it’s the scar on Eddie’s face that’s been haunting him for ages now. So different from his own forming scars, yet, in principle, the same.

Eddie’s face gets softer. Steve can’t recognize the expression properly, it’s different from Eddie’s usual, mischievous smirk. It’s quiet for the longest time, so quiet Steve thinks he’s going to choke on his jello from build-up pressure.

“I’m gay,” Eddie says, suddenly, his voice totally cool and leveled while Steve—

“I’m bi,” he blurts out in response, practically out of breath. To his absolute horror, Eddie chuckles.

“Well, that’s useful,” he says around his crooked smile, “but that’s not what I meant.”

When he points at his face, everything clicks. Steve tries to control his face, but the realization is too sudden.

“What?” he asks before he can think better of it.

Eddie shrugs. His expression is unreadable, but he isn't looking at Steve anymore, his eyes fixed on his own fingers that are still playing with Steve’s sock.

“My band has this one place for gigs that we all don’t really like, but they actually pay us some money. I’ve always thought that it’s enough – this and my arrogance, anyway – enough to scrape by. I’m not too cagey about being gay, and I wanted to spite them, I guess, show them that they can’t win,” he looks up. He looks sad, almost defeated, as much as Steve hates it. “They got their way, as you can see. Tried to pour something on me when I was leaving the stage, but they fucked up, both in terms of chemistry and their aim. It didn’t get me as bad as it could have, so I guess I won anyway.”

Eddie smiles again, but it reaches nowhere near his eyes. He looks so sad, so hurt, and Steve’s so, so angry. It’s easy for him to turn to anger, it’s easy and it’s freeing and he suddenly feels bigger and stronger than he really is, because he wants to destroy something, anything—but he’s not a fighter. He’s a protector. He’s not Nancy; he’s Steve. No matter how hopeless, how betrayed he feels, he doesn’t want to hurt. He wants to heal and save.

“It’s not your fault,” he says, afraid it’s too dumb and too obvious.

“I know,” Eddie replies impassively, looking at him from underneath his too long bangs.

“You said you wanted to spite them. But it doesn’t matter, it’s not your fault,” he drills. Eddie opens his mouth again, but before he gets to say anything, Steve squeezes his knee and looks at him intently. “It’s not,” he insists. “Whatever you said or did, it never mattered. They would have done it even if you’d praised them, you were never the problem.”

Eddie scoffs, but it’s not malicious. His eyes are a little bit glassy. “So you’re saying I’m perfect?”

For some reason, Steve doesn’t have a problem with reading that. Please, let’s not talk about it now. Then foreign fingers graze his own, and he gets it. Thank you, though.

Steve sighs, something tugging at the corners of his lips. The change of topic makes this both heavier and lighter at the same time. He flicks his spoon at Eddie and aims perfectly between his eyebrows.

“Bring me more jello tomorrow and maybe I’ll grace you with saying that out loud.”

“So you’ve thought—”

“Shut up, Eddie.”

Their fingers intertwine in the silence that follows. They look at each other like they can see each other and suddenly, Steve feels the weight of this moment. They’re not strangers anymore—maybe they have never been strangers. Maybe this was meant to happen from the very beginning. He most probably wasn’t seeing angels a few weeks back, but whatever it was that he saw hovering over his threshold, it’s just entered his house and is, hopefully, planning to stay for longer.