Archive of Our Own

Athena found it funny that even though she was very good at understanding other people’s emotions, she had never been good at processing her own.

Well, not funny in a ‘haha’ sort of way, but more funny in a seriously frustrating, almost infuriating way. Or, maybe not infuriating. It wasn’t like she was angry. No, she just—she just…

She just didn’t understand.

It had always been this way, even when she was still in those headphones that she hated, but she didn’t actually hate them because they were proof of her mother’s love for her, but she still disliked them immensely to the point where, at some level, she might have even resented her for making her wear them, but then again, it had been so difficult to function when having to deal with other people’s emotions, and it was only more evidence that her mother truly cared and understood her plight, and—

So, yeah. It had always been this way.

“You seem pretty emotional to me,” Apollo said, looking down at his glass that held a shockingly red drink. Athena couldn’t help be admire how the color matched his suit.

“I never said I wasn’t emotional.” Her drink was yellow enough that it matched her suit too.

“Then, I think you’ve lost me. I don’t get it.”

Well, that was frustrating. She didn’t get it either. Apparently, everything was getting lost in translation—not only in her mind but also Apollo’s.

“All I’m saying is that I’m trying to figure out a good way to handle my emotions.”

That didn’t seem to clear anything up, but Apollo had begun to smile just a bit. It must have been from the alcohol. It was probably a mistake to talk about something real while drinking.

“Weird, you’d think someone with a background in analytical psychology wouldn’t have that problem.”

“Are you making fun of me?” If she was actually upset, her grin could convince anyone otherwise.

“No, not at all, as you said, it’s just funny.”

Yeah. Funny. But, not ‘haha’ funny.

“Yeah. It’s ironic, isn’t it?” she laughed.

Her screwdriver tasted incredibly sour as it passed through her lips.

Athena found it funny that Widget had been acting strange lately.

First, it was Apollo who had pointed it out.

Another night of laying on the Wright Anything Agency couch with Apollo at the desk, running over various points in a case. It was excruciating, but it could always be worse.

A guilty verdict would be worse.

“Why would he have tried to wipe down the scene when leaving his fingerprints on the phone would have given him an alibi?” Apollo asked, flipping through the various photos of the crime scene. It was a rather bloody affair. He wasn’t really too fond of looking at a person so brutally attacked, but that was their job. You couldn’t be soft in this business.

“I’m not sure. It's almost like he wants to be found guilty. Do people usually set themselves up to be caught and then plead innocent?”

“No, that would...definitely be a new one.”

Athena laughed, sitting up and giving Apollo a cheesy grin.

“Seems to me like this client is a little on the strange side,” she said.

“He picked a good lawyer, then.”

She laughed again, fingers running through red hair.

(She felt tired, worn down. She really wanted to go to bed. This case had been a complicated one, and she knew she shouldn’t doubt her client, but things didn’t just look bad, they were bad. Intentionally hiding evident, tampering with the crime scene, clear motive, shaky alibi—even Phoenix would have trouble with this case. They were defense attorneys, not magicians. Maybe Trucy could help them out with this one...)

“So, Athena.”

Apollo’s voice woke her out of her musings.

“Hm?”

“I, uh, was just wondering how you were feeling. You know...this case isn't exactly all unicorns and rainbows.”

Of course not. Having to hear about how your client supposedly dismembered someone is sure to make any mood turn sour. And, considering Athena's past, she could vouch that it was not fun stuff.

She turned to Apollo in order to look him in the eye. To her surprise, he looked kind of wary, or maybe that was just from the long hours of mental gymnastics they had been performing to build a case that wouldn’t immediately be shot down by Blackquill.

“I’m feeling alright. This isn't the first messed up case I’ve been involved with.”

“I see.”

“‘I see?' Since when did you become the sage one?”

“Come on, I’m trying to be a compassionate coworker here.”

“Yes, because the first thing that comes to mind when I think of Apollo Justice is unbridled compassion.”

“Hey, that's character assassination. I’m a pretty alright guy.”

“And, yet, I sense some discord in your voice.”

Apollo sighed a heavy, tired sigh.

“Sorry, I’m not trying to hide anything. I’m just kind of confused.”

“Confused? About what?”

All of a sudden, he looked uncomfortable.

“Well, uh, it's just that Widget is...making you seem sad.”

“Huh?”

He pointed at the device around her neck.

With a glance downward, Athena could confirm that Widget was implying she felt sad. It looked back up at her with its melodramatic frown. Usually, it was at times like this that it would blurt her inner dialogue, but it was poignantly silent.

“Huh, that’s funny. I don’t feel sad.”

That didn’t seem to satisfy Apollo’s concern, but he decided to back off anyway. Athena didn’t particularly need to be pushed unless it was in the courtroom.

“Seems like Widget needs a tune up,” he smiled.

“Yeah, you're probably right. But, also it's two in the morning, and Widget could just be aware that sleep deprivation equals sadness.”

“That's actually entirely fair.”

And, if Apollo was one thing, Phoenix was another.

“I’ve got all the notes from the investigation organized,” Mr. Wright said, straightening the papers with a few taps on the desk. “Need anything else?” He offered them to Athena.

She shot him a grin as she took the papers. “Nope. This is all I need, Boss. I’ve got the rest of the evidence, so I should be just fine.”

But, when Athena took the notes from Phoenix, she couldn’t help but notice that he seemed troubled in some capacity or another.

“Are you okay, Mr. Wright?”

Being called out snapped him out of his funk.

“Oh, yeah, sorry. Just thinking.”

Athena would have to have been deaf to miss the discord in his voice.

“Are you sure?” she asked, eyebrows pulled together.

“Yep. Now, go out there and knock ‘em dead.” His proud, self-assured smile was back in an instant.

“Will do.”

She was about to walk out the door when Phoenix spoke up again.

“Hey, on second thought, why don’t I come with you? It’s been awhile since I’ve seen you in action.”

Athena turned back, trying not to let on that his strange behavior was making her nervous.

“That’s fine, I guess. But, don’t you have your own cases to work on?” She tried to ask as carefully as she could as to not sound condescending or ungrateful, but Athena had always been poor at turning down her inflections.

“Yeah, but don’t agencies have to keep an eye on their talent?”

She wouldn’t have even needed her sensitive hearing to know that Phoenix was full of shit.

“I guess so,” she shrugged. “Promise you won’t fire me, though, if I screw this one up?”

“Do you think I’m that cold hearted? I wouldn't fire you over one case. Nobody’s perfect, Athena.”

“You don’t have to tell me that,” she laughed. It was a little difficult to keep on a grin when she had the sneaking suspicion that her boss didn’t trust in her abilities, but if there’s one thing that Phoenix Wright had taught her, it was that forcing a smile usually fooled a good amount of people into thinking you’re confident.

As Athena began to lead the two of them out the door, Phoenix’s expression hardened.

It wasn’t until he left her by herself in the Defendant Lobby right before the trial began that she noticed it. The mirror on one of the walls was perfect for making sure that her hair was still in its correct place, but instead of a displaced strand of hair, she noticed Widget was emitting a blue glow again. She looked closer, almost if she didn’t believe the frowny-face with scrunched up eyes that mocked her.

What was going on?

After a couple pokes and several long moments of looking at her own reflection, Athena concluded that she’d have to run a tune-up on the software when this case was over with. After all, there was no way that Widget was accurately depicting her emotions.

(She came to this conclusion as if she had any grasp on what they were in the first place.)

Athena found it funny that although she had worked through most of her trauma with the help of Phoenix Wright, it seemed to rear its ugly head at the most inopportune times.

(GUILTY)

A verdict—that’s all it was. Just her first loss. You can’t always win. Athena knew that very well. And, by nature of the field, not every defendant was going to be innocent, no matter how hard she believed in her client. (Well, that’s if people weren’t fabricating evidence and what not, but this law system had seen enough of that nonsense for the next century.)

But, that didn’t change the fact that the last time she heard that verdict in a courtroom was seven years ago, and even if she knew the truth now, even if she knew he was fine now, that didn’t change—

(I couldn’t save him. I couldn’t save him—Oh God, I couldn’t save anyone. I can’t save anyone. I did all this to save him, and I couldn’t, and now everything I’ve done to this point is useless—I’m useless. What am I worth if I can’t save anybody? I guess I’ve always been this way, I’ve always been useless—)

Her insides felt icy, like she had frozen solid. She had to move, to leave now that court had been adjourned, but her legs didn’t feel as though they belonged to her. In fact, she couldn’t even tell that her body was shaking because, at some point, she had detached from herself.

It wasn’t until she felt a big hand on her shoulder that Athena snapped back to reality.

“Hey.”

It was Phoenix. Of course. He had been watching from the gallery. Embarrassing.

“Oh, h-hey, Boss.”

This time, she did feel a very clear and distinct emotion—shame. She really desperately wanted to cry, but that would break down any semblance of control she had over the situation, which admittedly, was not much. Putting up the dams in her eyes and demanding her lips to pull upward were the only things she could think of doing.

“You looked a little spooked for a second. Doing alright?”

“Yeah, I mean, my first guilty verdict. It kind of sucks, right?”

“Unfortunately, it does."

“But, it happens to everyone. Even Chief Prosecutor Edgeworth had a perfect record until you came along.” An appeal to his ego, perfect distraction from her watering eyes.

“Heh, you’re right. It does happen to everyone. And, more to the point, I had the feeling that this client wasn’t as innocent as he said he was.”

He knew?

“I thought your motto was to always believe in the client.”

“It is, but if the truth is that if our client is guilty, it’s not our right change that fact.”

So, if he knew the client was guilty, why didn’t he intervene and turn the case down before she reached the courtroom? Was this a life lesson that Phoenix was trying to teach? For some reason, that thought seemed almost worse than the idea that Athena lost by her own incompetence.

Adding frustration and confusion to her already mounting sadness was not something that she felt capable of confronting, so she simply didn’t.

“Well, if that motto doesn’t apply here, maybe ‘The worst of times are when lawyers have to force their biggest smiles,’ would be better.” To drive the point home, she flashed the brightest smile she could muster. It hurt her cheeks.

He flashed her a doting look, as if to say, ‘Oh, Athena,’ but didn’t actually say anything to that effect.

“Try not to beat yourself up over it. This was a hard case, and I’m sorry I didn’t share my concern earlier.”

“Is that why there was so much discord in your voice before the trial?”

“Ah, so I’m that obvious, am I?” He chuckled in a self-deprecating way, but what was interesting was that she could tell that some other emotion had crept into his voice. Maybe it wasn’t only the trial that was bothering him.

“You can’t fool my ears, boss.”

Another half-hearted chuckle.

“Let’s get you home. It’s been a long day.”

She hesitated.

The last thing she was wanted was to spend even more time resisting the urge to pick apart his psyche. Sometimes she wished she could tune down her hearing like she could turn off a car radio.

“Ah, no, it’s fine. I can bike home. My apartment’s not too far from here.”

Phoenix cocked his head. Was that not what he wanted to hear?

“Are you sure?”

“Yep! I’m fine. It’s not like I’m going to get lost or anything.” Was the laugh too much? He looked suspicious. Dammit.

If Athena were paying enough attention, she would have noticed his demeanor tense, but she was too busy avoiding eye contact.

“...Well, alright. But, don’t hesitate to ask if you need a ride. Or, if you need anything else, really.”

She mistook his concern for pitying her, for being overprotective of her. Athena really didn’t want to talk about herself any longer.

“Will do. Thanks, Mr. Wright!”

When he left, Athena realized that the courtroom had completely cleared out. There was no one in the room to hear Widget’s tiny voice say, “I hate this.”

Because that’s one thing she couldn’t deny. She really did hate this. This, and that, and everything.

Athena found it funny that she couldn’t stop herself from crying.

She didn’t even feel all that sad. In fact, she felt pretty flat if she were being completely honest. That’s why the amount of tears that leaked from her face were seemingly out of nowhere.

A behavioral technique she had learned was to write down possible cognitions that would explain her emotional response, but when she grabbed a pen and paper, the only things she could think of were, ‘Lost my first case,’ and ‘Reminds me of Simon’s verdict,’ and those reasons didn’t seem to be what was bothering her. Of course, they bothered her, but not to the point where she should be in tears, sitting on the floor, face buried in her arms on the couch cushions. It seemed ridiculous, foolish even, to have such a visceral reaction for absolutely no reason.

‘Of course, there’s a reason,’ Widget offered unhelpfully.

Well, yeah, duh. But, what was that reason?

Widget was silent on that account.

Maybe Apollo would have a better answer? Her heart sank when she recalled her previous attempt to suss out why her emotions seemed incomprehensible. Whether intentional or not, Apollo had basically proven to her that it was unimportant, that her own perception of a potential problem was trivial. It made her feel terribly hopeless, and that was an emotion she could pinpoint exactly due to experience.

The screwdriver that she had poured over ice tasted sour when she brought it to her lips, but unlike last time, the astringent flavor was from too much vodka rather than too much disappointment.

Well, maybe they had an additive effect. After all, she was pretty disappointed with herself.

Athena found it funny that she couldn’t see straight.

It was also funny that, even though her training in psychology had taught her that alcohol abuse was a poor coping mechanism, she still indulged in it anyway from time to time. What was considered binge drinking—two or more shots for women? Well, she had certainly shot that one out of the water. This was her third screwdriver, and she knew there was more than one shot in each of them, but she hadn’t really been keeping track, so who cared?

She certainly didn’t.

It wasn’t that the alcohol was making her feel good, per se. She didn’t drink to feel good. It was more that she felt solid in her skin. Her soul wasn’t going to detach from herself, like it often did when she couldn’t get herself to stop crying. Now, her sobs just sort of rolled over her as if she were laying on the shore and waves were passing over her. A calm melancholia.

But, another thing she knew from her training was that the more alcohol consumed, the more likely a calm melancholia could turn into a deep-seated despair, something that she simultaneously was familiar with and denied experiencing at all.

With her legs swung over the back of the couch, her back on the cushions, and her head hanging backward so the ceiling was the floor, Athena felt somewhat like a child again. In fact, she hadn’t cried so much since she was a child. She hadn’t cried so much since she found herself without a mother and with one of her favorite people indicted with her murder. The only difference was children couldn’t be wasted, which she certainly was.

Athena had to untangle herself from her upside down position on the couch to take another sip of her Too Strong Drink. She vaguely wondered how much of the glorified anesthetic she’d have to consume before she blacked out, lost consciousness, or died.

She’d take whichever came first.

Athena found it funny that even though she had been trying not to dissociate, she had dissociated anyway.

She knew she had only because, during the few moments between hour long sessions of staring blankly at the wall, she had noticed that Widget had turned gray—something that only happened when she had shut down completely. She almost didn’t mind, as feeling unreal was better than feeling helpless, but the inability to feel her skin was something she had never quite gotten used to.

Was it painful? No. Unpleasant? Most definitely.

That must have been why she found herself in her bathroom with a blade in her hand. Looking at the knife, it had to have been from her set in the kitchen. Her yellow cropped blazer was already off and hung on the hook on the door that wasn’t occupied by a towel. It was all habit, a habit that ran deep enough that her mind didn’t need to be inside her head to perform it.

It had never come up in conversation, nor didn’t she want it to. Telling someone that she loved to watch her own blood paint the sink red was certainly morbid at best and completely horrifying at the worst. Of course, she knew it bad and wrong and that she most definitely needed to seek professional help for such actions, but because it only happened every once in awhile when she was feeling particularly awful, Athena had convinced herself that it wasn’t that big of a deal.

After all, everyone had their vices. Hers just happened to be on the more extreme end. It wasn’t like she didn’t know that. She just wasn’t sure what else to do.

Was it helpful? Probably not. Was it painful? Most definitely.

But, wasn’t that really the entire point? Pain releases endorphins, which trick the brain into feeling the tiniest flickers of enjoyment at even the most self-destructive impulses. It made sense, then, that the coping mechanisms that would take hold would be the ones that proved to relieve both unreality and apathy.

Alcohol abuse. Self-harm. Bingo.

Although, there’s a reason these coping mechanisms are labeled destructive. Alcohol lowers inhibitions and reduces coordination. Blades inflict bodily harm. She may have sliced a little deeper than she intended, but not deep enough that it was that big of a problem.

Yes, none of this was that big of a problem.

The whole thing was just kind of funny in retrospect. But, not in a ‘haha’ sort of way. More in the ‘pathetic and sad’ sort of way.

“Hello?”

Athena found it funny that her voice sounded small and distant when she pressed her phone to her ear.

“H-Hi, Apollo.”

“Athena? What are you doing up this late?”

“I could ask you the same question.”

“I’ve been working on a case. I’m still at the office, but I was about to head home in a few.”

“Would you...uh...want to come over for a drink or two?”

“Hm, why? I shouldn’t stay up too much later.”

“I can’t sleep. And, I’d rather have the excuse of drinking with a friend than doing it by myself.” She was trying her best to sound as sober as she could. Although, it was probably not possible to sound sober with the amount of alcohol she had consumed and crying she had done.

The line was silent for a second before Apollo cleared his throat.

“Okay. But, just one drink.”

Athena breathed a stunted sigh of relief.

(She couldn’t imagine being by herself for much longer. She was kind of afraid of what she might do.)

“Thanks, Apollo.”

“You don’t need to thank me,” he chuckled. “I’ll see you in a bit.”

And he hung up.

Apollo found it funny that when Athena answered the door, she looked a bit out of it.

Well, not ‘haha’ funny because there was nothing humorous about her demeanor, but more of the funny when you feel awkward because you’re intruding on something.

“Hi,” she smiled.

Her yellow athletic shorts and pink sweater suggested that she was ready for bed. Even her hair wasn’t in its signature pigtail. She wore it down and slightly damp, which Apollo took to mean she had showered recently. The smile she wore looked tired and forced, like she didn’t really care to put in the effort to hold up the sides of her lips. Widget was not around her neck.

“Hey.”

Something was obviously up.

She moved to the side and gestured that he was welcome inside. Apollo removed his shoes in the entrance way, taking off his jacket and placing it on the couch soon after.

“Here, let me get you something.”

Athena moved past him and into the kitchen. She smelled like the super strong kind of mint that is only in toothpaste.

Apollo followed her in, watching from the kitchen doorway as she rummaged through her refrigerator.

“Do you like beer? You strike me as a cider-type guy. I also have vodka but that might be a little strong if you’re just having a single drink.”

Her speech was careful, like she was trying extra hard to articulate her words.

“Cider is fine. Is it the apple flavor?”

“Yeah.”

She stood up straight and shut the refrigerator door, two bottles in hand. Apollo couldn’t help but notice that when she handed him the drink, he could see a piece of what looked to be medical wrap peeking out from under her sweater sleeve. However, he didn’t have time to look closely because she had gone back to the fridge so she could lean against it.

“Sorry for calling so late,” she said, twisting off the cap and taking a swig of cider.

Apollo also twisted off the top to his drink. “It’s fine. I was just surprised, that’s all.”

“Hah, yeah. I guess it is kind of weird.” Her laugh was too loud for something that wasn’t really funny. She put the bottle to her lips as if she was trying to shut herself up.

“Uh, I guess a little bit. Is something wrong?”

Her eyes widened slightly.

“Oh, no, no. Nothing’s wrong. It’s j-just kind of quiet here. I don’t know. Maybe I should g-get a cat or something.” She seemed embarrassed, which made her talk faster, and it was becoming clearer that she was tripping over her words.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize, Athena. You just missed me that much, huh?” He was clearly kidding, but Apollo had never been very good at jokes.

She laughed, but this laugh seemed sad and heavy. To be honest, the fact that he had guessed exactly what she wanted her feel pathetic.

“Is it wrong to just want to hang out with a friend after a busy day?”

Apollo jumped. His wrist was being squeezed.

(Athena was hiding something?)

Well, no shit. Apollo didn’t need his bracelet to figure out that something was going on here.

“No, that’s what I’m saying. It’s not like I’m going out of my way to do anything crazy.”

“Yeah.” She took another swig before she looked over at Apollo’s rather intense expression. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Hm…? Oh, no reason, I’m just…” He swallowed his words with sugary alcohol. “Ha ha. You know. Long day.”

“Yeah, same,” she muttered, looking at the ground with an almost guilty expression. The silence that ensued made them both uncomfortable. Apollo felt like it was his job to keep the conversation going.

“Sorry about your case.”

Athena looked up at him again with her hazy eyes. She seemed to be a million miles away.

“It’s fine. I’m more upset that Mr. Wright knew that our client wasn’t innocent.”

Apollo pulled out a chair at the table and sat down, setting his drink on the placemat. His fingers traced the edge of his bracelet.

“I don’t think he knew he was guilty. I think he had a hunch.”

“It doesn’t make it better,” she pouted in a somewhat childlike fashion.

“Well, if he told you, you would have doubted the client and not put all your effort into defending him.”

“Ugh, I hate when you’re right.”

He cracked a smile for the first time since getting there.

“When I’m right, I’m right.”

“I wish that were the case more often in court,” Athena teased, her head leaning on the refrigerator behind her.

“Ouch.” He placed a hand over his heart, as if she had physically hurt him. “At least I don’t fall for Blackquill’s psychology babble anymore.”

“Hey, give me a break. I get nervous when it’s just me up there.”

“Your background in psychology should make you impervious to his tricks, and yet…”

Athena’s lips pressed into a thin line, her eyes scanning the floor instead of making eye contact with Apollo. Her cider suddenly had become more sour.

(Her background in psychology should have prevented her from being a complete disaster, too, but that wasn’t the case.)

Apollo didn’t seem to understand why she looked so glum at some harmless teasing. It shouldn’t have bothered her so much, but it did. And, it certainly didn’t help that she already felt like shit.

Downing the rest of her cider, she turned around, opened the fridge, and got out another.

Apollo couldn’t help but feel a bit guilty.

“Oh, c’mon, I’m just kidding around.”

“You’re fine. I don’t mind.” If the way she answered wasn’t enough to tip him off that she was lying, the tugging at his wrist was another. “You’re right, anyway. I don’t have much of an excuse.”

“I didn’t mean it that way. Phoenix wouldn’t have hired you if he didn’t see talent and potential in you.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know.”

“So, don’t be so bummed out.”

“I’m not.”

His bracelet squeezed again. He was trying very hard not to focus on her tell, but like Athena’s hearing, it wasn’t something he could just turn off.

“Oh, really?”

She shot him a look that implied his attitude smelled bad.

“You’re not using that bracelet on me, are you?”

Damn, she was good.

“N-No. To be fair, I don’t need my bracelet to tell me that you’re hiding something.”

That comment hurt more than she was expecting it to. Athena would like to believe that she was good at feigning normalcy, and under normal circumstances, she was. But, with enough alcohol and enough sadness, any facade can come tumbling down.

“I’m—I’m not. Don’t worry about it—”

“And, you’re not wearing Widget, which is odd.”

“Apollo, please just drop it.”

“I'm just worried.”

“You don't have to be worried.”

“Do you not want me to know how you feel?”

“Huh—?”

As if she had been literally thrown her off balance by Apollo’s words, her socks slipped on the floor, and she fell straight down, landing with a loud thump! Some of her drink splashed on the linoleum and her bare legs. The shock of suddenly sitting on the ground left her head spinning.

Apollo scrambled up from his chair in a panic before crouching down beside her.

“Athena! Are you alright?”

She laughed, but it was clearly out of embarrassment. Afterall, there were tears in her eyes.

“Ow…” She rubbed at her eye in hopes it would stop it from watering. “Y-Yeah, I’m fine. That hurt, though. Ugh.”

His eyebrows were furrowed and his lips were pursed as he scanned her face, noticing for the first time that her face was tinged pink and that her eyes were distant and glassy. It was more troubling to him, however, that even behind the smell of toothpaste and shampoo, a hint of liquor still remained on her breath.

The words just kind of slipped out.

“Are you drunk?”

Athena smiled in a way that looked like she was frowning. Tears teetered on the edge of her lashes.

“What makes you say that?” she asked, which was ridiculous because the words came out slightly slurred.

“Athena…”

She groaned.

“Can’t you just leave me alone, Apollo? I don’t want to hear a lecture.”

“You asked me to come here. I can leave if you want me to, though.”

“N-No, I, uh…”

Her face screwed up. She wanted him to leave, but she didn’t want to be alone.

(She felt terrible. Athena wished she could just stuff her emotions down deeper and deeper until she couldn’t feel anything anymore. But, she was finding that the harder she tried not to feel anything, the more fiercely her emotions would strike her. Maybe half of the reason she couldn’t understand her own emotions was because she was so focused on denying she had any at all.)

What a pathetic existence she lived.

Before she could stop herself, Athena choked on her own effort to repress a sob.

It was disgusting. It was disgusting that she couldn’t handle herself. It was disgusting that she had accepted a job she clearly was unqualified for and did not deserve. It was disgusting that even the simplest of challenges derailed her completely. It was disgusting that she invited Apollo over just to break down in front of him.

It was disgusting that she had to poison her mind and rip open her body just to handle reality.

Apollo was babbling worriedly, a steady mantra of, “Hey, hey. Athena, it’s okay. Athena. Hey…”

Not only was she drunk, but her despair was also intoxicating. When Apollo helped her up to standing in order to get her to sit in a chair instead of on the dirty floor, she felt like she was going to fall right back down. But, Apollo was strong enough to support her, which only proved to make her feel more infantile, more hopeless.

Once she was seated, her hands went to cover her face.

“I’m s-sorry,” she heaved out. “I’m sorry.”

“What are you apologizing for? It’s okay. You haven’t done anything wrong.”

It seemed her outburst had brought out the Mother Hen in Apollo.

“I’m disgusting,” she choked out between heaving breaths.

“You’re not. Don’t say that.”

Apollo went to retrieve a glass of water from the sink. He handed it to Athena, kneeling down in front of her so they could be closer to eye level. She nursed the glass and avoided his gaze. Tears ran down her cheeks and plopped in her lap.

“You haven’t been feeling well for a while, right?” His tone was soft in an attempt to be comforting. Truthfully, he didn’t know how to handle this type of situation, but he cared for the girl and was going to do his best to be there for her while she was experiencing such turmoil.

She shrugged, setting down the glass next to the abandoned bottles.

“I told you, I don’t know—I don’t know how I feel.”

He was reminded of that conversation they had a week or so ago, that one where he didn’t take her confusion over her own emotions seriously. Apollo, then, realized that it had probably been her way of reaching out for help, and he just brushed her off. It made him feel sick to his stomach because maybe if he had listened to her before, this might not have happened.

Idiot.

“Widget wasn’t malfunctioning, then.”

She shrugged again.

“I guess you don’t have to talk to me about anything, but it might help.”

Her fingers rubbed at her wet cheeks.

“It’s okay to feel sad, you know.”

“Shush,” she muttered. “Advice sounds wrong coming from you.”

Apollo chuckled lightly. “You’re right. My mistake.”

It was only a second later, then, that his face fell, expression growing concerned as he noticed that the sleeve of her sweater had a small stain of red. He reached out, grabbing her wrist and pulling her arm towards him.

“Hey, you’re bleeding.”

Athena snatched her arm from his grip, holding her arm into her chest. “Don’t.”

He looked a bit spooked at her reaction.

“How did that happen?”

“I must have nicked the refrigerator door on the way down.” Not exactly a lie, but that wasn’t the reason why she had a wound to open in the first place.

“We should get you cleaned up, then.”

“No! I mean, no. I’m fine. Don’t worry about it.”

Once again, his bracelet tightened on his wrist. It was an invasion of her privacy if he used his magnified focus against her, but Apollo was becoming increasingly worried about her situation. Bodily harm was where Apollo personally drew the line.

“You don’t sound fine.”

“I am.”

He noticed that she tugged at her sleeve as she said it. She looked like she wished that he would just drop the subject.

“Is there something wrong with your arm? It looked like you had a bandage on it.”

“No.”

“Can I see it anyway?”

“No.”

Apollo sat back on his heels, arms crossed.

“Okay, I won’t force you to do anything you don’t want to.”

Athena looked slightly relieved when he resigned. However, she still kept her arm clutched to her chest. He wondered if she would say anything in her defense, but she stayed silent.

“Mr. Wright said that he noticed you had Psyche-Locks. Like, the normal kind, not the crazy heavy duty ones.”

“Oh.”

She guessed that was why he had been acting weird around her after the trail (possibly even before). But, why didn’t he try to break them?

This was Apollo’s turn to frown, watching as she lost herself in thought once again.

“And, I know it’s not any of my business, but whatever is bothering you seems to be...pretty bad…”

Like a switch, her dazed sadness transformed into frustration, anger apparent in the way her hands clutched into fists in her lap.

“I don’t know what it is, Apollo. I would tell you if I knew, but I have no reason to be like this.” Frustrated tears hung in the corner of her eyes. “That’s why I hate it so much—it’s gross—I’m…” The anger fell away again, and she just looked defeated. “I hate being so...weak.”

“You’re—you’re not! I mean, sure, you don’t have as much experience, but you’ve gone through a lot, probably more than I have. Some of the stuff you’ve seen—well, you can’t just get over it right away. It’s not some kind of moral failing that you have emotions, which is what I’m gathering you believe.”

He was sort of right but not completely. Sure, she would rather not have emotions, but it was more that she couldn’t control how she felt. Her anger was overwhelming, her sadness was debilitating, her happiness was intense and fleeting. It made her feel gross, weak and feeble-minded, unworthy of other’s sympathy and affection.

Of course, she didn’t feel like that all the time because she didn’t always think about it. It was so much easier to ignore the aching disappointment that sat in her chest than to admit that maybe her mental health was deteriorating. But, alcohol makes it hard to suppress sadness, makes it hard to organize thoughts in a logical and orderly manner. All of that out of control emotion was knocking at the inside of her head, threatening to burst out of her, and that lack of control made her feel disgusting.

She leaned her forehead against the palm of her hand, elbow resting on the table. She had apparently forgotten, once again, to hide her bloody sleeve.

Apollo was able to see that it was, in fact, medical wrap on her wrist. His lips pressed into a thin line, wrinkles appearing on his forehead.

(Athena hiding an injury? Doesn’t sound like something she would do. Or, maybe there’s a reason she was hiding it? Was it embarrassing? Was it something that she felt he’d think less of her for? Was it because it was compromising? Was it...because it was...intentional…?)

He didn’t really know what to think.

“It’s really late. Maybe we should get you to bed.”

She muttered something under her breath, but it sounded more like a groan than actual words.

“The best thing to do is sleep it off, right? I can help you to your room if you want.”

Athena shook her head, her eyes fixing on the floor again. “I can handle that myself.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m not a kid, Apollo.”

“Alright.” He stood up and put a hand on her shoulder. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“Yeah.” She still wouldn’t look at him.

“Night.”

“Night.”

Grabbing his jacket and putting on his shoes, Apollo couldn’t help but wonder if Athena would be alright. Half of him wanted to stay behind, to make sure she was safe, but with a trial the next day and no clean clothes to change into, he really didn’t have much of a choice. Still, when the door shut behind him, he could’ve sworn a black hole had opened in his stomach.

Even if he couldn’t do something right then, Apollo promised himself that he would help Athena one way or another. He probably couldn’t live with himself if something happened to her.

Simon found it strange that he had several text messages from Athena.

[Athena: hey]

[Athena: so mr. wright gave me the day off]

[Athena: wanna get lunch or something?]

He had just finished his trial against her co-worker, and to tell the truth, some soba to nurse the wounds dealt to his ego didn't sound too bad.

[Simon: Fine.]

Her reply was almost instantaneous.

[Athena: alright!! awesome, the usual?]

[Simon: Yes.]

He found it interesting that they continued to maintain a close relationship even though their past had been tumultuous and their personalities were in stark contrast with each other.

[Athena: nice! i’ll be there in ten]

Even though he would never admit it, her enthusiasm was appreciated. No one else was ever excited to see him (that wasn’t in jail, at least). Something about her wide grin and bright yellow suit was calming, even though, normally, bright colors were not usually his aesthetic of choice. It was probably because he cared for the girl.

(He’d never say it out loud, though.)

Except, when he spotted her standing next to the soba stand, something seemed off.

“Hey, Simon! What’s going on?”

He stared at her for a moment, stoic as ever.

“...Wasn’t it you who suggested we buy lunch?”

“I don’t mean literally.”

Maybe it was her slightly lopsided smile that struck Simon as odd.

“Hmph. If you had, I would worry about your memory.”

Athena laughed, putting her hands on her hips. “Still taking everything too seriously, huh?”

Simon didn’t respond to that statement, and instead, sat down on one of the seats. Athena followed soon after. They both ordered, and Athena found herself in the usual role of making small talk.

"So how did your trial go today?"

"I lost."

"Ah, so Apollo won, huh? Good for him."

"..."

He had never been much for conversation, so his usual approach was to let Athena talk while he silently listened. But, that day, she was a little quieter than usual, a little less eager to coax him out of his shell. She used chopsticks to play with her noodles once the bowl was set in front of her, seemingly invested in the way they swirled in the broth. This carried on for several minutes.

“You shouldn’t let it sit.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Did she? If she wanted the best quality lunch, it was in her best interest to eat as quickly as possible. She didn’t look too thrilled when she stuffed a bite into her mouth.

Something was wrong.

“Are you still sulking over yesterday’s trial?” He attempted to sound compassionate, but something about his voice made most things he said sound hostile.

Fortunately, Athena knew the drill.

“No, I’m over it.”

“Right.”

“I guess I’m just not as hungry as I thought.”

“...Or, the lunch invitation was just an excuse to drag me out to talk to you.”

Athena visibly winced. Her own transparency seemed to be distressing to her.

“Ha ha. Caught me red handed.”

That was probably a poor choice of words in retrospect, but they had both dealt with worse. Words couldn’t possibly hurt as much as the experiences they’d lived through.

“Since when did I become your own personal therapist?”

“You’re not, that’s not what I’m—I mean, I just want—” She sighed and looked at the ground rather than the man next to her. “I’d like to consider you a friend. Don’t friends talk to each other?”

“Wouldn’t Justice-dono serve as a better confidant?”

Athena took the time to phrase the answer to the question by shoving noodles into her mouth. She knew that being open with Simon was going to be dreadfully awkward, but she hadn’t expected to be downright embarrassed. To be fair, most of the embarrassment was coming from what happened the previous night rather than the current conversation.

“You see, about that…”

Athena’s tone made one of Simon’s eyebrows raise under his bangs.

“The funny thing is...I kinda freaked out on Apollo last night.”

“...I see.” He paused to take a sip of broth from the bowl. It was also an attempt to get Athena to continue talking, but she never did. “You’re saying it’s funny, but you don’t sound very amused.”

“W-Well, it’s not a ‘haha’ kind of funny.”

“Hmm.”

She finally lifted her gaze, but it fixed on her food.

“But, um, yeah. So, I got drunk and cried. And, I’m pretty sure Apollo isn’t super happy about it. He still won his case, though, even though I kept him up past three.” She played with the sleeve of her blazer. “I don’t know. It sucks. I feel bad about it. It’s just like me to inconvenience him over nothing.” Out of the many things Athena was good at, being self-deprecating in a fairly cheerful manner was definitely one of them. If Simon couldn’t hear what she was saying, he would assume she was talking about the weather or some other baseless drivel.

The whole thing was very sad.

“If Justice-dono has any pride, he would be glad to support you,” Simon grunted.

“Oh, it’s not like that. I’m sure he doesn’t mind that much, but I mind.”  

Simon shifted in his seat.

“You spend too much time caring for other people.”

She snorted in an attempt to conceal a laugh. “That's funny coming from you.”

Simon's glare should have been more frightening, but Athena was used to it by now.

“You asked for my advice.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Neither of them wanted to own up to their respective discomforts about the situation, so they ate their lunches as an unsatisfactory attempt to cover the silence between them. Unfortunately, their bowls of soba were only so big, and they couldn't hide from each other forever. They didn't necessarily want to, anyway.

After their dishes were taken away and they both were heading in the same direction, Simon spoke up.

“You often hide how you feel for the convenience of others.”

“Huh?”

“Therefore, any show of true emotion would have you feeling vulnerable in a way you aren’t used to.”

It took a moment for Athena to realize that he was continuing the conversation that they had dropped earlier.

“Oh.”

Was that true? Did she put others before herself? It didn’t feel like that was the case, but Simon wasn’t one to mince words, especially when it came to her.

“I thought you weren’t my therapist, yet here you are analyzing me.” It was an attempt to lighten the mood, but he didn’t seem very amused.

“I’m saying this...as your friend. Not as a therapist.”

Athena thought, for a split second, that maybe this was just part of an alcohol-fueled dream. While Simon was her friend, she had never expected him to say it to her face and to put so bluntly at that. What had gotten into him?

“O-Oh…”

He seemed to be aware that he was being overly sentimental (at least as far as Simon was concerned), and that only made Athena feel even more self-conscious.

“I don't know if that's true. I just don't want to—”

Ping!

Athena’s phone chirped from her pocket. The sound distracted her, had her patting herself down to figure out just where she had put it. Simon didn’t want to let on that this annoyed him, but he was never too good at feigning contentment.

“Sorry,” she muttered, finally getting her hands on her phone and flipping it open.

She looked troubled, her face falling as her eyes scanned the message. It was as if she had forgotten to hold up her facade as soon as she wasn’t focused on Simon.

“Is there a problem?”

His voice brought her back to reality. She immediately regained her composure and flashed a tiny smile in his direction.

“Oh, no, not really. Mr. Wright just wants to talk to me.”

“And, you don’t want to?”

“No, it's not like that.” She was spending an inordinate amount of time tugging at her sleeve. It seemed like it was uncomfortable. “I don’t mind too much. I just don’t know if I’m up for whatever he has in mind. Knowing him, he’ll probably want to lock pick my brain or something.” She laughed nervously.

“Wright-dono surely wouldn’t force you to divulge personal information if he didn’t feel like it was necessary.”

Of course, she knew that, but how was Athena supposed to balance the desire to get things off her chest and the fear that if she did, she would break into a million pieces? It was a careful balance, keeping her feelings hidden and maintaining her happy-go-lucky appearance. If too much of the truth slipped out, it may upset everything inside her, cause everything to come tumbling out, like eggs falling from a carton and shattering on the ground, getting yolks and whites all over. Last night was alright because it was all a mistake—she was just drunk, that was all—it wasn’t really real. Her feelings had only shifted, not cracked or broken.

It also just frightened her that she had Psyche-Locks at all. That meant that it definitely would be difficult to be honest with another person. She could barely be honest with herself.

When Wright had broken her black Psyche-Locks before, it had been deeply unsettling, almost painful. Even though her problems now were less traumatizing, being truthful would still take a considerable amount of mental acuity that she wasn’t sure she possessed at the moment.

“You’re not convinced it’s necessary, correct?”

Athena shrugged, putting her phone back in her pocket.

Something about the way she held her head up high and refused to let any expression other than contentment cross her face made Simon feel worse than if she had looked unhappy. He had to wonder, out of all the times he had known her, how often had she covered up her emotions in order to spare the other party from anything unnecessarily negative?

(She was clearly in a lot of pain, not just currently, but probably more often than not.)

Simon turned to her. He looked overly serious, which surprised Athena enough that she stopped walking.

“Forgive me if I’m overstepping my bounds, but it would probably be beneficial if you told the truth.”

Athena tried her best to maintain eye contact, but she ended up looking to the side, a hand gripping her arm.

“No, you’re right,” she sighed. “I’m being childish, aren’t I?”

Simon didn’t say anything. Of course, he believed that Athena acted childish sometimes, but this was clearly more than a childish display. And, something had to be said about how her childhood was ripped from her (in the same way his young adulthood was).

It almost seemed cruel to call her childish knowing what she had been through.

“No. You’re not.”

“Ah,” she made the sound as if she didn’t believe him, or maybe she just didn’t want to believe him.

“It’s not easy to be entirely truthful. It’s certainly not childish to be afraid. But, if you have the luxury, I would advise you to explore it.”

Her fingers tugged at the sleeve of her blazer for a few moments before they wrapped around her wrist.

“Thanks, Simon.”

When she looked up at him, Simon was surprised to see that she wore a tiny, sad smile. It was probably the most honest she'd been the entire conversation. Clearing his throat, he said, “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

She giggled before turning on her heel and making her way in the direction of the Wright Anything Agency.

Simon couldn’t help but think of what a strange woman she had become. Although, he couldn’t exactly blame her. He had become pretty strange himself.

Phoenix found it funny that Athena seemed to look genuinely happy.

Of course, that didn't mean much. He knew from the UR-1 incident that she had a certain way of downplaying and concealing things that were unpleasant. But, the way she smiled at him had Phoenix entertaining the notion that Apollo had been exaggerating.

Apollo didn't have any reason to lie, though. And, considering Athena hadn't bothered to put on Widget that day, there was probably more truth to his account than he’d like to admit.

“Hey, Boss. What’s going on?”

The way she stood with her hands on her hips suggested confidence. He wondered if she had any idea about the context of their meeting.

“Hi, Athena. How are you?”

“I’m good.”

Even though she was still smiling, it was clear that she felt slightly uncomfortable, especially when she made her way over and sat on the couch like she was a client or something.

“So…” She pursed her lips, eyes scanning the line where the wall met with the ceiling.

Phoenix shifted in his seat, admitting to himself silently that this whole situation was incredibly awkward.

“Oh, right. You’re probably wondering why I wanted to see you.”

“You’re not going to fire me, are you?” she asked. Her cheeky smile could convince anyone that she was amused instead of nervous.

“Of course not.”

She grinned, leaning forward so her elbow rested on her crossed thigh.

“I’m kidding. I know you already said you wouldn’t.”

“Uh, right.” Phoenix scratched the back of his head. He wouldn’t admit it, but Athena’s air of confidence was throwing him off. Maybe he hadn’t been prepared for this specific demeanor.

(A part of him chided himself for expecting her to be a sad, broken little girl—something she had never been and would likely never be. Just because she was supposedly having a hard time didn’t mean her entire personality was going to shift. Phoenix figured that maybe it was his experience in court, the tendency to see people concealing their personalities to cover for murder, that had him jumping to conclusions, but that still wasn’t an excuse.)

Athena was always just herself, even if she kept some things private.

“Well, I just wanted to ask you a few questions.”

“Alright.” She leaned back so that she could sit up straight. “That’s fine with me.”

“I hope you don’t mind me asking, but—”

Her expression didn’t change when she said, “You want to try to break my Psyche-Locks, right?”

Her frank way of speaking caught him off guard. Phoenix had to remind himself that Athena’s ability to sense emotions didn’t stop once outside of the courtroom.

“Um, yeah. How did you—”

“Apollo told me.”

Of course, he did.

“Interesting that he didn’t mention that before…”

“You’re talking about me behind my back?” This time, she looked a bit hurt, but Phoenix could only tell because the cheerful demeanor she had been maintaining was starting to falter. He felt a pang of guilt in his stomach.

“Okay, so it probably wasn’t the best way to approach the subject, but I don’t think he was trying to hurt you.”

“Right.”

“He told me what happened last night.”

“Oh, good.” She winced. “I guess he can’t keep anything to himself, can he?”

“Don’t be so hard on him. He was just worried about you. I think you kind of scared him.”

This time, Athena grew silent, eyes flickering over to look at all the miscellaneous garbage that Trucy insisted she keep there.

“I didn’t mean to.”

“I know, Athena.” Phoenix was probably the only person with enough experience dealing with people to actually sound sympathetic when he was trying to. “We all want what’s best for you. We’re just concerned.”

“I don’t think there’s anything to be concerned about.”

And, there they were—chains and three red locks. Clearly, Athena believed deep down that there was something to worry about, even if she was unwilling to readily admit it.

“Are you sure that’s true? Apollo mentioned that you had gotten really drunk. And, well, we all can enjoy a stiff one every once in awhile, but if you’re drinking because you’re trying to run away from something…”

Athena flinched again.

“It’s not like that.”

“Oh?”

“Sometimes it helps me.”

“Okay...how so?”

“Well, I don’t feel as bad about crying, for one thing.”

“Why would you feel bad about crying?”

“Uh, well. I was kind of talking about this with Simon before I got here. I think the problem is that I don’t want to have to bother anyone with how I feel.”

“You normally seem fine with expressing yourself. Is that not how you see it?”

She looked uncomfortable when she said, “There are some things that aren’t worth bringing up.”

“If something’s bothering you, it’s worth bringing up.”

Athena uncrossed her legs, only to cross them again with her other leg on top.

“I don’t know about that. Being good at my job is more important than talking about old news. We’ve already had to deal with that whole...situation before. That’s probably more than enough drama for a few years, at least.”

She looked down at her hands which rested on top of each other in her lap. Phoenix would have described her as looking dejected, something that was quite rare for the girl.

“You’re not feeling guilty about the UR-1 incident, are you?”

“No,” she said, looking back up at him again. “I’m glad it got resolved, and I’m glad I could...inadvertently help Simon.”

“But…”

With a huff, she added, “But, nothing. I’d just rather keep pushing forward than to wallow in self-pity.”

Phoenix was getting the sense that she did that in private, anyway.

“So, is it sadness in particular that bothers you?”

“I don’t know.”

Athena wasn’t usually the person without an opinion on anything, much less herself.

“Then, what does bother you?”

She stared back at him, expression unreadable.

“I don’t know.”

“That’s a little hard to believe considering you aren’t wearing Widget. I would say that it looks like you're trying to downplay whatever it is that’s causing you to be upset.”

The statement broke down a Psyche-Lock. Her hand gripped her arm, eyes cast downward.

While he was making headway, Phoenix noticed that Athena was becoming more withdrawn, refusing to make eye contact even after a few moments passed. He didn’t need Apollo’s bracelet to notice that when she felt put on the spot, her eyes would wander and she’d tug on her sleeve.

“It’s not like that. Honestly, I don’t know if I’m sad or what. It’s more that I’m not sure how I feel a lot of the time.”

“Hm. Okay.” Phoenix paused for a moment, trying to figure out the right words to say. “Is it that—”

“But, I guess you’re not wrong. I don’t like being sad, even though I don’t feel sad very often. Does anyone like being sad?”

“I guess not.”

“So, you know, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with any of this.”

“Avoiding your feelings isn’t healthy."

“I’m not. I’m not avoiding anything. I just don’t like feeling sorry for myself.”

“And, you don’t want anyone to feel sorry for you.”

“Right.”

“That’s, uh...I mean, that’s understandable. But, I don’t think being concerned is the same as feeling pity.”

Athena shot him a look that said, ‘They might as well be.’

“I’ve just had so many people all my life treat me like I’m fragile, and I’m tired of it. That’s why I wanted to become a lawyer in the first place. I wanted to help myself. I wanted to help others. Everyone getting worried about me just makes me feel like a child.”

“Well, you definitely succeeded in becoming a lawyer, and at such a young age, too.” He was trying to be supportive, but his compliments just came off as flat, which was compounded by the fact that Athena didn’t look too thrilled.

“That’s another thing. It’s so frustrating to not be taken seriously just because I’m younger. And, it’s not without reason, either—I feel like all of the cases I've been on, I needed to be rescued, or I would’ve failed.”

He scratched his cheek nervously, silently reminding himself that if he hadn’t had Mia and Maya’s help, he wouldn’t have won half the cases he did when starting out.

“Like this last case. I was out there alone, and I couldn’t do anything.”

“You know now he was guilty, though—”

“That’s not the point. It just feels like I can’t hold my own, regardless of the case. I feel belittled for being young, for being a girl.” She huffed, crossing her arms and looking at the wall beside her. “And, worst yet, I freeze up if things start going wrong.”

Phoenix had to catch himself. It was true that she was young and inexperienced, but reaffirming that point wouldn’t be helpful. Dwelling on things she already knew wasn’t going to solve anything.

“So, you don’t want to give people more ammunition against you?”

“Hm, I mean, I guess.”

“Or, is it that you’re afraid that you’re not a good lawyer?”

“Huh?”

“Even though you don’t like when people doubt your abilities, you also aren’t rallying much effort to prove the contrary. From what you’re saying, it seems like you feel inadequate.”

Her eyebrows furrowed, a small frown making the skin around her mouth wrinkle.

“I only care because I want to make sure people who are innocent get the right verdict. It wouldn’t be right if innocent people went to jail because of me.”

Again, only caring about others and not caring about herself. It was a reoccurring theme.

“So, you’re worried about your own abilities because you’re afraid people will be hurt because of you?”

“Yeah, kinda.”

“Is it because you still feel the need to help people like you originally wanted to help Prosecutor Blackquill?”

Her eyebrows raised. Watching Phoenix read other people must have been different than having it done to oneself.

“Uh...I—I hadn’t thought of it like that, but…” Her fingers tugged at her sleeve as she was thinking of the right words to say. “I was reminded of Simon’s verdict when I lost yesterday. If I’m being honest, it was really painful to hear the judge hand it down.”

So, that’s why he saw her Psyche-Locks after the trial—her desire to conceal the recurrence of her trauma must have been enough to manifest them. Or, at least some of them.

But, that admission wasn’t enough to break the second lock. There must be something else.

“And, so that’s why you decided to drink a lot?”

Athena squinted, like remembering last night hurt her eyes.

“No. I drink so I don’t dissociate.”

Again, her blunt way of speaking caught Phoenix off guard. That felt like a terribly personal thing to admit at the drop of a hat.

“O-Oh…”

“I did anyway, though. Haha. Whoops.”

She laughed like it wasn’t really funny.

(Things were starting to come into place now. She’d mentioned general malaise to Apollo before, but combined with the guilty verdict, the feelings of inadequacy, the fragrant disregard for herself, the apparent substance abuse…)

Phoenix didn’t like where this was going.

“That doesn’t sound very good.”

“Ah, well, it’s not like I like it, but there are worse things, I guess.”

Before he could stop himself, he sighed, trying to come up with something to say to that. He crossed his arms and frowned.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she pouted. “It’s not actually that big of a deal.”

“I’m not sure if I like the way you’re minimizing this.”

“I’m not. I just don’t think it matters that much.”

Phoenix sighed again, uncrossing his arms and leaning forward. She wasn’t going to like this, but the evidence—her words and Apollo’s—had led him to a conclusion, and he wasn’t one to run from the truth no matter how unpleasant it might be.

“It matters if you’re hurting yourself, Athena.”

“Wha—?”

Her body tensed, head snapping to look at him.

“Apollo mentioned that you were hurt, but you wouldn’t talk about it.”

“What—no, but that doesn’t—”

“And, from what you’ve been saying, it sounds like you hold a lot of resentment towards yourself.”

“But, I-I don’t—”

“And, if you’re a danger to yourself, it’d probably be best if we got you some help—”

“I’m not!” This was the first time she had raised her voice, the first time her emotions seemed to slip away from her before she could control them. “I’m not a danger to myself...I’m fine, Mr. Wright. Really, it’s not a big deal. If I thought it was, I would have mentioned something before. Because it’s—it’s not all the time. It’s only…” She realized what she was saying and paused. “It’s only when I feel really bad.”

Just like the second Psyche-Lock, her expression broke down until it stabilized into one of grief—one that said, ‘How could you know? How could you get it out of me? I’ve been trying so hard to hide it, I’ve never told anybody, how could you just guess and be right?’ without actually saying anything at all.

This may have been what he was expecting before. That girl who was carrying the world on her shoulders. That girl who had been forced to grow up way too young. He couldn’t blame her. Phoenix had never been through something like that. He couldn’t imagine even just figuring out how to cope for so many years.

(Although, it looked like she didn’t have a choice. It was either cope or don’t.)

“Listen, I can’t possibly know what it’s like to deal with the things you've been through. And, I’m not trying to make you feel bad about how you choose to handle it,” he said, trying his best to keep his voice even. “I just really want to see you feel better. Apollo does, too. And, even Blackquill, I’m sure—”

“I get it,” she said, letting out a shaking breath. “I know...I know you mean well.”

(It’s just so much easier to pretend it doesn’t hurt.)

“It’s fine, though. I-I promise it is.”

“Athena. I know you don’t want to bother anyone, but it bothers us more to see you in pain.”

Her hand rubbed at her eyes, rubbed at her forehead.

“Yeah…”

“Just talking to someone might make it better.”

She didn’t say anything.

“This isn’t something I’d fire you for, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“No. It’s not that.”

“Then, what is it?”

Phoenix couldn’t think of anything. She didn’t seem to be the type of person to be worried about her pride, nor did she ever express anything would suggest that her ego was a barrier here. Was she worried about looking weak? Or, was it really all about not bothering anyone else, as she claimed? Something still didn’t add up, and there was still a Psyche-Lock that had to be broken.

“Mr. Wright…”

Phoenix didn’t need his Magatama to tell him that she wasn’t telling the whole truth. He didn’t want to push her, but something in his gut told him that this is what she needed.

(And, if it wasn’t, he’d take the blame and pick up the pieces.)

“If it’s none of my business, I’ll back off, but I don’t want you to keep everything to yourself. It’s not healthy for anyone, much less someone who already has spent so long shouldering other’s blame.”

At some point, while he was talking, her eyebrows had drawn closer together, and her lips pursed. She looked almost angry, but without Widget around her neck explicitly announcing her emotions, it was difficult to tell.

“It’s not ‘other’s blame.’”

“Huh?”

“I mean, I’m not shouldering blame that isn’t mine.”

“That’s ridiculous. You didn’t do anything wrong. You were a victim—”

“No. Stop saying that.”

“Would you rather I lie to you?”

“It’s not a lie.”

“Yes, it is—”

“Stop it!” Athena stood suddenly, foot stamping on the ground, fists clenched and pressed against her sides. Phoenix’s breath caught in his throat, shock causing him to freeze where he sat. “Do you know how many people suffered because of me? Simon almost died, Aura’s in prison, my mom’s dead—” Her anger had tears hanging on her eyelashes.

“But, Athena, that’s not your fault—”

“No, Mr. Wright! Don’t you understand? My mom was always trying to help me, and she just ended up dead. Simon was thrown in jail to protect me. Aura held people hostage to indict me. Everyone close to me just ends up suffering—suffering is the least I can do for them!”

Her shout filled the entire office, forced the two of them into silence.

(The sound of the last Psyche-Lock breaking was like if someone had thrown a rock through the office window.)

Athena sucked in a breath, as if her own words had shocked her.

It didn’t take very long for the tears in her eyes to flee down her cheeks, for her hands to cover her face in an attempt to protect herself from her own version of reality, one warped by years of guilt and grief. She sat back down, shoulders shaking. She pretended like she wasn’t whimpering.

(Was this what she had been worried about? Was this her feelings crashing onto the ground and breaking into pieces? How was she supposed to piece everything back together again?)

For a second, Phoenix was fixed in place, shock paralyzing him. He’d never heard Athena talk like that, never heard her voice sound like that. Even though they had known each other for months, he clearly didn’t know anything about her—at least, he knew nothing about the side of her that she went to great lengths to hide.

(He desperately wanted to help her. He couldn’t help but think, ‘what if this was my daughter?’ Even though it didn’t change the predicament, it was another reminder that Athena didn’t have anyone to fall back on, not like Trucy did. It made him feel very sad.)

Phoenix took a seat next to her on the couch, a hand placed gently on her shoulder.

But, really, what could he do? He was helpless in the face of trauma that stemmed way deeper than magic bracelets and mystical locks and chains. She was just a person who had been left to deal with things that no one should have to deal with. Phoenix wouldn’t be able to “fix” her. In fact, breaking her Psyche-Locks seemed almost cruel in retrospect. What right did he have to rip her coping mechanisms away from her?

(He could see her now as that scared kid who had built up these walls around her. Athena crying on his couch was hard to watch considering he had been the one to tear her walls down.)

“Hey, I’m, uh, I’m sorry.”

She sniffled in response.

“I can’t know what all that feels like. It’d be ridiculous for me to pretend I could.”

(If she felt bad about crying while sober, this must have been worse, considering it looked like she couldn’t get herself to stop.)

“Just, I—uh, I hate to see you beat yourself up over this. I’m not going to tell you that what you feel is wrong, it’s just…”

(It’s just really sad.)

Athena let her hands go to her lap, sniffing against a runny nose. She looked at her knees, vision still blurry with tears.

“I’m really messed up, aren’t I?”

That was a little more blunt than Phoenix had been expecting. She was good at throwing him off.

“I wouldn’t say that…”

She shook her head, pausing in an effort to find her voice.

“I guess it’s pretty selfish to pretend like I was hiding things for all of your guys’ sakes—” she wiped her nose on the sleeve of her blazer, “—when I’m just hiding things for my own benefit.”

Maybe that psychology training was useful for more things than just the courtroom. For someone who had been putting up barriers in her own psyche for years, Athena was pretty good at reading herself.

“Athena, you don’t need to be harder on yourself than you already have been. It’s okay to put yourself before others sometimes. Being selfless all the time is impossible. I mean, you know, you studied psychology. Humans...take care of themselves. Sure, we like…being around each other and sticking in groups, but no one is going to survive constantly by putting other people first.”

She breathed out heavily, almost like she had been holding her breath.

“You sound like Simon,” she said, an edge of amusement hidden under words thick with sadness.

“I hope not!”

This time, she did laugh, rubbing at one of her eyes.

“No, I mean, Simon said something similar. I didn’t really believe him before.”

“Believe…?”

“Yeah, he said that I put other’s feelings before my own, and I didn’t believe him, but I guess if you’re also saying it, then he might be right.”

“I don’t agree with Simon on a lot of things, but it sounds like he knows what he’s talking about. I guess he’d know you in a different way than I would.” He put an arm around her shoulder, pulling her into a loose hug, something that he hoped would be supportive if nothing else. “But, you know, even though I’m your boss and all, I still care about you a lot, and so does Apollo and Trucy. We can take it if you have to be ‘selfish,’ even though I’d say it’s not selfish to take care of yourself, but I’m not going to tell you how to feel.”

Athena laughed again, letting herself relax just slightly against Phoenix’s arm before he let her go.

“Thanks,” she said, voice softer than she would have liked it.

“Sorry for making you talk about all this.”

“It’s okay.”

Something about what Simon had said before, about having the luxury to be truthful, had stuck with her, and even though she felt disgusting for letting her demons spill out, (another part of her may have been just a tiny bit relieved.)

It was still hard to stop herself from letting her emotions run, not to mention it was embarrassing that she was being such a mess in front of her boss.

“It’s probably better this way.” (Even though it hurts more.)

“Do you think this is something you’d be willing to see someone about? I mean, you don’t have to, but I—”

“I know what you mean, Mr. Wright.”

But, that was the real question. Did she want to divulge all of this to someone? Was she willing to carve herself out, leave her hollow and vulnerable? She had stuffed herself up with false emotions, had pushed down memories and feelings for so long that she had just convinced herself that’s how it always was going to be. No one had ever told her that things didn’t have to be like this, that she didn’t always have to be alone. She hadn’t even realized that was how she felt until she was offered an alternative.

It was kind of amazing.

“If you think it would help,” Athena said, finally making eye contact with the man beside her. She hoped she didn’t look too pitiful with tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Well, I can’t know for sure, but I think it would.” He grinned, probably in an effort to get her to smile back.

Athena would have never guessed that after all she had been through, sobbing on Phoenix Wright’s couch was probably one of the better things she’d done for herself.

“Okay.”

Athena actually found it kind of funny—in the 'haha' kind of way.