To Step in the Fairy Ring

It’s two weeks after the Gavinner’s case, three months after joining the agency, four months since meeting this strange girl in the courthouse, that Apollo realizes that Trucy has never lied to him.

“Is that… meant to be noteworthy?” She pauses midway through shuffling her cards. It seems like the confusion is genuine. “Polly, I’m a little worried about the company you keep.”

“ Everyone lies. It’s not a matter of malice or anything. It’s just something people do. ” Ema twirling her hair as she says you can investigate the crime scene, I got the proper authorisations this time, Mr Eldoon tugging on his sleeve, I made it less salty than usual, as promised! Clay picking at his nails, no really I didn’t use the last of the toilet paper, scout’s honor!

“Huh.” Trucy ponders for a few seconds. She picks a card and gets it to vanish, absent-mindedly. “Wild. Daddy sure never lied to me. I would have known.”

A bold claim, one that Apollo finds absolutely hilarious, but that he sadly cannot disprove. Maybe one day he’ll hold a conversation with Mr Wright for longer than a minute, but that’d imply the man actually showing up at the office, so Apollo won’t bet on that happening anytime soon.

“You’re right though, I don’t lie. I don’t need to! Magicians don’t lie. They trick. They misdirect. It’s different.” Apollo doesn’t really see how, but sure whatever go off. “Besides, it’s against the rules. I can’t lie.”

“Magicians can’t lie?” 

“No, no, it’s not a magician rule. It’s just a me rule.” She flicks her wrist, and a dozen cards fall onto the table. The ace of spade lays on top of the pile. “Rules are important.”

---

A fact:

Trucy cares not for the law.

This had been obvious the moment she’d faked her own kidnapping mid-trial. Hell, this had been obvious the second she’d handed him this bloody ace. Trucy holds little respect for figures of authority, be they prosecutors, police officers, or mobs.

She does however, take her personal rules to heart.

Absurd as some of them may be.

“It’s meant to keep the place organized.” Trucy huffs, fists on her hips. “I thought you of all people would understand how important that is, Polly!”

“This office has never known a single clean day in its life and you know it.” There is precisely one spot in the entire office that is free of junk, and that is the space in front of the window. One spot. That’s it. Everywhere else is completely littered in props, clothes, and, inexplicably, pawprints. “Why do you only care to sort out metals of all things?”

“That way, the day the Kitaki finally come to get what I owe them, I can give them actual worthwhile stuff instead of selling out all our forks to scrap by.”

“ Or, and hear me out on this, you could try not getting indebted in a loan shark.”

“No.” She has a warm laugh. “Okay seriously though, we do that because Daddy’s allergic to silver.”

Huh?

That’s a real thing?

“Apparently! One time I bought this pretty silver necklace as a kid, and it chafed his skin super bad.” She makes a vague dismissing gesture. A couple dice fall out of her sleeve and clatter on the table. “That’s why we started sorting metallic objects in separate boxes, so he wouldn’t burn himself by accident. And hey, it works out for me too. I hate the feeling of iron. That way I can keep to plastic cutlery.”

“You know what, fair enough.” Surprising, though. Trucy does seem fond of knife throwing and other sword tricks.

“Well, yeah, I don’t touch the blade. I dare hope no one would touch a blade directly even without sensory issues!” 

“And yet you insist on using me as a training dummy for these tricks.”

“Yep! Such is your fate. Deal with it.”

---

Eldoon’s broth is, as per tradition, completely inedible. Apollo gobbles it up anyway, because if nothing else, the fact that he’s not the one paying makes it taste slightly less horrible.

“Are you still mad at me?” 

Apollo sighs. “No. I’m better now.” He blows on his bowl. “A bit frustrated though. That case would have been a lot easier if you’d just told me about that magic trick.”

“I know.” She replies. “I’m sorry.”

She leaves it at that. It’s not the first time they have this argument. The result is always the same. I can’t just tell you another magician’s tricks, that’s the epitome of rudeness. That’s against the rules. Nevermind that this was a murder trial.

Ah, well. That’s just what Apollo’s life is like now. A cryptid for a boss, a rock star for a rival, and a magician with strange priorities as an assistant. It’s a sad sad day when the actual astronaut in training is the most normal member of your social circle.

“... So, Eldoon’s, huh?” He offers a tentative olive branch. She is the one paying. If nothing else, he appreciates the gesture.

There’s a glimmer in her eyes when she smiles. “Yeah! We used to come here with Daddy to celebrate really successful shows. He’s been on a warpath to reduce my salt intakes recently though, so we haven’t come in a while.” A pause. “Don’t tell him I took you here, he’ll give me an earful otherwise.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t.” He’d have to actually see the man to speak to him. “For once though I have to side with him. This place is, uh. It can’t be good for your liver. Or virtually any of your organs.”

“And that’s a shame. Mr. Eldoon is the only cook I know who go that hard on the salt. I like a little spice in my food.”

“ Please don’t imply ever again that salt is a spice.” Apollo is pretty sure he’s had this discussion with Clay already. It enhances taste, you can’t eat it on its own, so it’s a spice! NO IT ISN’T, CLAY.

And then Trucy says something utterly incomprehensible.

“Sure, sure. They taste the same, though. I really don’t know why people separate them.”

…

“Come again?”

“Oh, come on.” She rolls her eyes. “Tingles the tongue. Burns the mouth. Makes you cry a little. Salty and spicy are the same! They’re absolutely the same!”

“Trucy. That is not what salt is supposed to taste like.”

She shrugs. “It’s almost the same. I know looking for details is kind of your job, but you’ve gotta admit they’re pretty similar”

“I assure you they very much are not. ” Is she… allergic to salt? Is that a thing? He didn’t think one could be allergic to silver, and yet Mr. Wright seems to be. Or is it like… colorblindness for tastes? Taste blindness? Where is Ema when you need her?? “Are you sure you should keep eating-”

“They’re my salty delights, back off!” She pushes the bowl closer to her and bares her teeth at him like some sort of dog.

“Trucy, I really don’t think-”

“ I said back off! ”

---

He gives her three days. Three days since the trial of Kristoph Gavin. Three days since the death of Shadi Enigmar has been made public.

Three days, and then Apollo is knocking at Trucy’s door.

“Polly!” She’s smiling. Of course she’s smiling. She never stops smiling. “What are you doing here? I thought you’d taken the day off!”

“I did.” He closes the door carefully behind him. He hasn’t seen Mr. Wright today, but it has been surprisingly hard to avoid the man recently. Apollo isn’t used to that man being actually present. “I was hoping we could talk?”

“Sure thing!” Trucy sits on the couch, batting her legs. “What’s up?”

He comes to sit next to her. “I wanted to know how you’re holding up. After… you know.”

“Aw, you’re sweet, Polly.” She’s looking at him straight in the eyes. Her hands are perfectly still. Nothing in her body language betrays the slightest hint of grief. “You don’t need to worry, though! Everything’s fine.”

He’ll hand it to her. She’s an incredible actress.

“That’s funny. I don’t recall asking about everything. I asked about you. ”

“You know, when someone says everything’s fine, that usually implies and so am I. ” She chuckles. “Do I look upset to you?”

She doesn’t. Not a single thing about her is out of place. No nervous swallowing, no rubbing the back of her neck, nothing.

This is also one hell of a misdirection.

“Trucy…” Apollo pauses. Joins his hands on his lap. “If you want me to leave you alone, that’s fine. You can say so. But please don’t pretend to be okay just for my sake.”

“Egocentric much?” There’s a teasing tone in her voice. “I don’t police my every action for you specifically, you know.”

“Then just tell me you’re fine. Look at me in the eyes and tell me I’m fine. Do that and I’ll let it go.”

“You’re insistent.” (Ah- there we go. The slightest hint of irritation. Just a hint.) “Alright, you big baby.” She sets a hand on her heart, very dramatically. “I hereby swear, Apollo Justice, that you can assume-”

“ Trucy. ” Normally he’d argue here, tell her to keep it short, tell her that doesn’t actually answer the question. But the way she seems to refuse to give a straight answer only heightens his worry. “Please.”

She closes her mouth. Lowers her hand.

Stays silent.

“... Trucy?”

She looks down for a few seconds. When she turns back to him, her smile is gone.

“Cheater. You know I can’t lie.”

And Apollo’s heart sinks.

She turns her gaze away again, and keeps talking. “What do you want me to tell you, Polly? That I waited seven years for a man that will never come home? That his tomb won’t even sport his real name? That he promised he’d try to see me again, and he lied?”

She gets up suddenly, body tense, fists clenched, and yet her voice is still calm, still quiet. “You want me to tell you that every single person I have ever loved has left me behind?” She starts pacing. “My mother? My first father? And I’m waiting for the second one to keel over? Seven years. Seven years I’ve watched his health fall apart, and I don’t know how many more he has to live? That every time the hospital calls, I fear that he’ll forget to come back, like everyone before him?”

“Wait, what?” There are many things wrong with these sentence-

Trucy suddenly throws her hands in the air, all pretense of calm gone. When she raises her voice again, it’s trembling with fury. “You want me to tell you that I am a monster and a thief? That I stole my second father’s job, his reputation, his life? That I stole my first father’s child, and didn’t even have the decency to know about it?”

She’s walking faster. Her whole body is trembling. There’s something almost violent in her steps, something more reminiscent of an animal than a person. The corners of her eyes are shining with unshed tears.

“What do you want me to tell you, Polly? I knew it would happen. This is nothing I shouldn’t have expected. I helped my father escape knowing it would be the last time I ever see him, and I walked into that courthouse knowing it could only end in blood.”

At long last, she stops. She’s almost panting, breathing in too deep for such a tiny body. 

“... There is nothing to talk about.” She concludes through grit teeth.

Wordlessly, Apollo gets up. Takes a step closer. Another one.

Wraps his arms around her.

A second. 

Two seconds.

Trucy’s voice cracks, and she starts sobbing in his chest.

---

“Did it help?”

Trucy nods weakly against his shoulder. She’s holding onto him like he’s her lifeline, sharp nails digging into his suit like she’s trying to anchor him there. “Yeah. Thanks. I needed a good cry, I guess.”

“Anytime.” He pats her back. “I can’t speak for anyone else, but… you can always count on me if you need to yell for a bit. I’ll always be here for you.” Always.

“Thanks.” Her knuckles pop loudly as she lets go of his shirt. She rubs her palms on her eyes, wiping away her tears. “I appreciate it.”

She slaps her own cheeks a couple times. “Alright! All better.” And she’s smiling again, pushing her emotions aside again. “Fantastic job right there, Polly!”

“... Thank you.” He’d never gotten her to open up that much before. He shouldn’t push it. He’ll just have to make sure to stick around. In case she needs him again.

“So!” Trucy sets her fists on her hips. “Let’s do something more fun. Wanna go out?”

“Actually, there’s a last thingI wanted to ask.” He pauses. “This, might be terrible timing, but… uhm…”

He wrings his hands together. “You… mentioned some pretty worrying stuff a couple times? And you know, that’s fine if you don’t want to talk about it, but since I don’t really have context-”

“Daddy’s sick.” She cuts him. “It’s a chronic condition. Every month, around the full Moon, he… falls asleep.” Literal or euphemism? There is no way for him to know. “It’s fine though. A cool side-effect is that he is a lot  more resilient than he should be.”

“That… does explain a lot.” The goddamn car accident. “What about… you?”

“I’m a human.” If she says it, it has to be true; yet the fact that she says it at all implies there is more to it. 

“I’m as much of a human as I am a Wright.” Says the Gramarye daughter, the child of Zak Enigmar.

(She is a Wright by choice and a Gramarye by blood, and if Apollo has learned anything from the last hellish trial it’s that a legacy is not something so easily left behind. I am human, she said, and it was true. Human and something else, human and a little to the left. But human. This, no one could deny it.)

(He thinks of Dhurke, briefly, of dragon tatoos and Khura’inese mountains. Trucy had looked at her body that rejects iron and salt and yet still believed wholeheartedly that yes, she is human. He wonders if one day he, too, will be so sure of who he is. Able to acknowledge both the path he walked from and the one he picks forward.)

“I see.” He replies. “You are human.” And surely she must see, too, that he isn’t lying either. That he believes her. “... So. Going out, you said?”

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