Chapter Text
Simon knelt in his waiting position with Fulbright’s hand on his shoulder, as if it was perfectly natural to answer questions at a job interview kneeling instead of sitting at the table with everyone else. But then again, positioning was probably the least strange part of this interview.
For one thing, while submissives were technically allowed to stand in court, the reality was that very, very few ever had. That was one point against Simon, who had once been a prosecutor, but that was back when the world believed he was a Dom. Never mind that he’d been good at it; the fact that the whole world now thought he was a sub was going to count against him.
But, perhaps more importantly, death row inmates definitely didn’t stand in court, and Simon was one of those, too. And yet, the potential for him to go back to work was only going to be possible because the world thought he was a sub. Thanks to archaic standards of behavior that had been codified into law, it had been decided that he couldn’t be held responsible for his actions. So he’d been given a chance to reform, contingent on learning his proper place.
Which was on his knees.
During a job interview.
Inside the prison.
Honestly, this was absurd. And yet the chief prosecutor wasn’t treating it as a joke. Simon was passingly familiar with him -- they’d never met before, but Miles Edgeworth was famous in the legal world and Simon had studied his career in law school. At a glance, he was as formal and exacting as even protocol-obsessed Detective Fulbright could want. His suit was bespoke and reeked of wealth; his voice and demeanor were both calm and cool. He addressed most of his questions to Fulbright -- was Simon well behaved (usually), had he studied recent cases (obsessively, since Fulbright had given him access to a few law journals), would he be intimidated in court surrounded by Doms (no, and the idea of Simon being intimidated was laughable), did he appear genuinely repentant for the murder he’d committed (yes, but appear was the keyword there, not that Fulbright knew that).
“One more matter,” Edgeworth said. He glanced down at Simon, then back at Fulbright. “There’s a custom in the world of law, regarding the attorney who loses a case -- well, regarding their collared submissives. But Blackquill is a submissive, so it’s worth discussing.”
“Oh, that.” Fulbright nodded. “What do you think?”
“I think the whole thing is outdated and demeaning,” Edgeworth said. “But unfortunately, not all defense attorneys agree with me. And with Blackquill’s notoriety, I suspect if he loses, the defense will likely demand him for twenty-four hours. It isn’t ideal.”
“I see. Well, I can’t say I’d be eager to loan him out. Especially not early on, when he’s still adjusting to life outside. But if it happens, he’s well trained. I’m sure he’d make me proud.”
Edgeworth nodded, and finally looked down again. “And what do you think of the matter, Blackquill?”
“I’m not concerned,” Simon said. “Since I don’t intend to lose any cases.”
Edgeworth laughed. “I like your attitude.”
“You’re the first person who ever has,” Simon said. Judging by the way Fulbright’s grip dug into his shoulder, he was pushing his luck, so he snapped his mouth shut.
Edgeworth still seemed amused, though. “I have to say, I wasn’t sure what to expect when I agreed to this conversation, but I’m quite intrigued by the possibilities. And it would be nice to show the world the law’s power to help people reform, for a change.”
“If Simon can be reformed, anyone can!” Fulbright agreed. “You wouldn’t believe what a mess he was when I first took him into my care.”
“Oh, I’ve heard. The warden’s files were extensive. I don’t hire anyone without doing my research, and certainly not a convict,” Edgeworth said, looking down at Simon through his wire-rimmed glasses. “Though given that research, I do actually have a few more things I’d like to discuss.”
“Of course, Chief Prosecutor,” Fulbright said.
“I’d like to discuss them with Prosecutor Blackquill, actually,” Edgeworth said. Then, “Alone.”
Fulbright frowned. “Are you sure that’s necessary? Not that I don’t trust him -- Simon is quite trustworthy, I assure you. But…”
“I am sure, yes,” Edgeworth said. “You can wait outside, Detective Fulbright. I don’t think we’ll be long.”
Fulbright obviously wasn’t happy about the dismissal, but the chief prosecutor was well above him in the hierarchy of the legal world. He pouted for a moment, while Simon stayed statue-still, and then finally Fulbright rose. “I’ll be right outside if you need me, or when you’re finished up.”
Edgeworth gave him a polite smile and waited for the door to shut. The room was sound proof, but there was a glass window in the door, so Simon still didn’t move.
Until Edgeworth said, “Have a seat at the table, please, Blackquill. This is an interview, not an auction.”
Simon knew his expected lines in this stupid script: “Only if that’s what you prefer, Chief Proescutor Edgeworth. Kneeling is… proper.”
“Is that what you prefer?” Edgeworth’s eyebrows drew together.
Simon fought not to grimace, to come up with an answer that was honest but not damning. He wanted this job, and while the chief prosecutor was more progressive than he looked, Simon wasn’t going to push his luck. He finally settled on, “Detective Fulbright would definitely prefer that I stay where I am.”
“Which is why I asked him to step out. I’d be working with you, not Fulbright. It’s up to you, but I’d just as soon have you at the table.”
“Thank you.” Simon rose. His posture stayed stiff and formal even in the chair, but it was nice to be able to have a conversation without craning his neck.
Edgeworth nodded. “So how do you get along with Detective Fulbright? And more to the point, how do you think you’d get along with him, professionally?”
“The detective and I have an understanding,” Simon said. That was an easy truth, though there were times when they still struggled, even after two years. “But to be honest, I’m concerned about the professional side. If our opinions about work were to come into conflict…”
“Would you have trouble disagreeing with your Dom?”
“No, and he’d be the first one to tell you that.” Simon smirked a little. He had a better sense of when to stop pushing Fulbright now, so he rarely triggered Fulbright’s temper anymore. But he liked to tiptoe up to that line, just to prove he could. That he wasn’t afraid. The fact that he did that, that he had a mind of his own, made Fulbright huffy. But it was that very mind that made Simon a good prosecutor, good enough for Edgeworth to consider this mad scheme.
“Would those disagreements cause trouble for you, if they happen at work?”
“I’ll figure something out if they do,” Simon said. “I want this very badly, Chief Prosecutor. I’ll find a way to make things work with the detective if it comes down to that, and I would be an asset to your office. My record was exemplary.”
“Yes, until you were indicted for murder.” Edgeworth spread his hands on the table. “So let’s stop beating around the bush. I’ve reviewed your trial thoroughly. I know what’s fact, and I know what’s just rumor, and I’ve come to the conclusion that you didn’t kill Metis Cykes. But I think you know who did.”
Simon stared. Then recovered and said, “I didn’t think the chief prosecutor would be a conspiracy theorist.”
“I’m not. I also have access to other police evidence -- such as the results of raids of your sister’s lab, and the bits and pieces of research they turned up. I have every reason to believe Metis Cykes was working on something illegal under the Subversion Act, and that you and your sister were both either involved or aware. I think someone else found out, and killed her over it, and for whatever reason you took the fall.”
“Why would I do that? If someone had killed my sister-in-law, a woman I was allegedly helping -- why would I possibly want to cover for her killer?”
Edgeworth shrugged. “I was hoping you would enlighten me. I have theories, but no proof.”
“Conspiracy theories,” Simon repeated, but his heart was beating too quickly. Edgeworth didn’t know anything real. He couldn’t. But Simon’s conviction barely held up under scrutiny, and Edgeworth was an extremely smart man.
“Working theories,” Edgeworth corrected. “One is that the research is still ongoing, somehow -- and you’re concerned that if word of that gets out, it’ll be shut down. Your sentencing, however, convinced the world it was ended. And you were willing to die to maintain that illusion.”
Simon raised his eyebrows.
“Another thought -- perhaps your sister was involved, and you took the fall for her. Your psych profiles spell out a man obsessed with loyalty. You may have treated your sister as your Dom; you strike me as being loyal enough to die for her, in that case.”
That one was actually close. He just had the wrong family member. Luckily Simon had plenty of experience keeping his expression neutral. “My psych profile spells out a lot of things most people dismiss out of hand.”
“Your… ‘alternative orientation’?” Edgeworth guessed.
“Yes. And if I’m so crazy as to believe I’m a switch,” he leered, an expression that made both Doms and subs uncomfortable, “why wouldn’t I be so crazy I’d kill my sister-in-law in cold blood?”
“I don’t think you are crazy,” Edgeworth said. “On either count.”
It hung there for a moment.
It took a lot to catch Simon off guard, but Edgworth had managed it -- had disarmed him entirely, just by acknowledging the truth at the core of Simon’s soul. Doctors denied it. Laws denied it. Tradition and common sense denied it. But Simon had always known he didn’t fit neatly into the category of Dom or sub, and Metis had been working to prove it. When the public found out, it had been only salacious gossip, and everyone seemed to believe he was really just a sub who’d forgotten his place in life. No one thought switching was real, as anything other than a perversion.
And yet the chief prosecutor, a brilliant legal mind and respected politician, didn’t dismiss it.
“If I am a conspiracy theorist because I believe orientation is a complicated matter, so be it,” Edgeworth finally continued, when Simon stayed silent because he had no idea what to say. “Honestly, I get more grief for being progressive than for anything else I bring to my office.”
“Yeah, I heard you’ve been investigated under the Act yourself a few times,” Simon said, a challenge.
“That’s only a rumor,” Edgeworth said. “Traditionalists may not like the way I conduct my relationship, but they’ve never found reason to complain about how I conduct my office. I do my job well. I enforce the Subversion Act because it is the law, and will continue to do so as long as it remains such.”
“It’s the law, but do you agree with it?” Simon pressed.
“My opinion on the matter is not relevant,” Edgeworth said. “But I will say, I think the way it was used against Dr. Cykes was an overreach. If she was conducting the research people like to whisper about, so what? If her conclusions proved that orientations are complicated, nuanced, then the law ought to evolve with that truth, not try to cover it up.”
“Saying things like that could get a person arrested.”
“I’m the chief prosecutor. Who’s going to charge me?” Edgeworth gave a slight laugh. “But I have to obey our laws, even when I disagree with them. Which I think is at the heart of this matter -- of your case, and what you claim is a conspiracy theory. I disagree with the Subversion Act, and I want it to change. So if Metis Cykes’s research is real, I want it known. Publicly.”
Simon studied him, his mind racing and his heart pounding.
Metis’s research was real. Simon had been part of it. It had shown exactly what the chief prosecutor assumed -- that the division between Dom and sub was hardly as clear cut as law and culture and tradition would have everyone believe. That people like Simon existed, outside of orientation law’s enforced binary. Not only that, but her research showed that most submissives could live quite happily without a Dom controlling their every move. For traditionalists, that sounded like the end of the world.
But it was real. All of it.
Simon couldn’t say that, though. It was real, but so was the Act. And though Metis was dead, out of harm’s way, her research had been illegal and Aura, as her Dom, could still be convicted. So even if Simon took Edgeworth at his word that he wanted things to change, he couldn’t risk it. Edgeworth was right about one thing; Simon was loyal to his family. He’d take what he knew to his grave before he’d let Aura rot in prison.
For that matter, it might have been easier if what Edgeworth had insinuated was true -- if some assassin had come after Metis to stop her work from getting out. But it had been Athena, and an accident. Simon would not allow her to suffer for it any more than he’d allow Aura to be arrested.
His prison sentence, his enslavement to Fulbright, his potential execution -- it kept his remaining family safe. He didn’t regret any of it.
So he let out a long breath and said, “I know I became the poster boy for the Subversion Act, but I’m not who either side thinks I am or wants me to be. I don’t know anything about Metis’s research. But I do know the law. I can stand in court. I was a good prosecutor and I could be again. That’s all.”
“Then that’s enough.” Edgeworth gave him a nod. “Would you show Detective Fulbright back in, then? I’m happy with your answers. I’ll hash out the specifics of your employment with him.”
Simon nodded and rose to do as asked, knowing this would put him back on his knees -- but with a job secured for his future. He could live with that.
*
Athena had never been so nervous… ever, really. Not that she could remember. She’d been too grief-stricken to be scared about moving from LA to Frankfurt, too intensely focused to be worried about any of her exams. But now she was back in LA, and she’d passed the Bar, and she had big plans but executing them kind of required a job. As a lawyer. And it wasn’t like she’d ever had a job interview before.
But Mia Fey, the senior attorney who’d founded Fey & Co., was a kind and charismatic woman, and Athena immediately wanted to impress her. For one thing, her practice had a fantastic reputation, one of the best records in LA. Not only that, but they were particularly known for taking on clients no other lawyers would even touch. Helpless cases where the defendant looked so guilty that the only question was how long the sentence would be. And somehow, they almost always won.
Considering that Athena had a pretty hopeless case in mind to work on, there could be no better place.
But she also wanted to impress Ms. Fey because Ms. Fey seemed amazing. She had a kind of relaxed confidence that most people didn’t, not even other Doms. She didn’t seem interested in power games or trick questions, only in seeing if Athena would be a good fit. Athena could hear the voice in her heart, loud and clear, and there was no discord to it. Ms. Fey had brought her in for an interview because she seemed like a good candidate, and so far she’d seemed happy with Athena’s answers.
But when she took a breath, Athena knew she was in for the heavy stuff.
“Ms. Cykes, I’m impressed with everything we’ve discussed so far. And your references and test scores are all fantastic,” she started. Athena gave her a grin, which was returned, but then it faded and she got serious. “But we should talk a little more about what we really do here.”
“You’re defense attorneys,” Athena said immediately. “You help people -- people no one else will. And you specialize in helping subs who’ve been mistreated and have no real recourse. It spits in the face of the Subversion Act, and you do it anyway.”
“Hmm. Well, more or less,” Ms. Fey said. “But we don’t spit on anything. At this practice, we help the people we can within the bounds of the law. And if those cases happen to push back on the Subjugation Act, well, that’s just a silver lining.”
Athena’s eyes went wide. She knew how Ms. Fey felt about the Act -- it was obvious in the cases she chose to take on. But calling it the Subjugation Act was exactly the sort of thing that the Act itself frowned on. It was poorly defined, which was a huge part of the problem, but in broad strokes it outlawed anything that might subvert the public’s trust in the Test and in the orientation binary. Implying that the Act was rooted in marginalizing people instead of protecting them would certainly fall under that umbrella.
The Act was a nightmare for the subs’ rights movement -- which Mia Fey and her team definitely supported. It was a miracle that this office wasn’t raided annually, the way so many activists were. Police would show up out of the blue and kick over every stone they could find, looking for anything they could claim was subversive and therefore illegal. Athena herself had seen it happen plenty of times, before her mother had died. There was no way to prevent it, or protect against it.
“Well, I want to help with whatever it is you’re doing, spitting not required,” Athena said. “People I love have been hurt badly by the -- the Subjugation Act. I don’t want that to happen to anyone else, ever again. That’s why I became a lawyer.”
“Yes. Let’s talk about that,” Ms. Fey said, and pressed her hands down on her desk. “I recognized your last name and did a little research. You are Metis Cykes’s daughter, aren’t you?”
“I am,” Athena said. “And… I’ll be honest with you. Because if you don’t believe me, or don’t like what I’m about to say, we shouldn't work together.” It was a gamble, but Ms. Fey nodded at her to continue. “There are a lot of weird rumors about my family, but I can tell you one thing for certain: my Uncle Simon is innocent. He didn’t kill my mother. I’m sure of it, and I want to prove it before it’s too late. Before he’s…” She trailed off. It was so hard to say. But she made herself. “Before he’s executed.”
“At this point, it’s very unlikely that he’ll face execution,” Ms. Fey said. “I have that on good authority. Are you familiar with the reformative collaring process?”
“Yes, but it isn’t a sure thing,” Athena said. Reformative collaring was actually pretty horrible, in her opinion -- it was an alternative to life in prison or execution for some subs who’d committed truly horrible crimes. They could be assigned to a Dom, who would have complete control over their lives. They had no legal rights within the arrangement, and no recourse. No say in who they were assigned to or ability to get help if they were being abused. They were, for all intents and purposes, fully enslaved.
Simon had been forced into a reformative collaring arrangement. Some detective was going to become his Dom. But in Simon’s case, that would only happen if that detective felt sure that Simon could be reformed. If not, he could pull the plug, and Simon would be executed instead. The final decision -- enslavement or death -- would be up to a judge, and Simon’s court date was coming up soon. Execution was still a risk. Athena had to do something before then.
“And anyway,” Athena continued, “he’s innocent, so he deserves to be free. Not enslaved to some detective.”
“I agree,” Ms. Fey said. “And I’m not opposed to taking on his case, if we can find a legal way in. I just wanted you to know where things stand for him. It’ll actually probably hit the news in a few days.”
“What will?”
“Well…” She seemed to consider something for a moment, then grinned and pushed off on her wheely chair, over toward the door, which she swung open. “Phoenix, got a sec?”
“For you, Chief? Always.” One of Ms. Fey’s associates came in. He was wearing a strikingly nice blue suit that must have cost a fortune, with a deep maroon collar around his neck. He had a bright smile and a spring in his step. “What’s up?”
“This is Athena Cykes, who I’m about to hire,” Ms. Fey said, and Athena couldn’t help herself. She did a little fist pump, gleeful. Ms. Fey grinned at her. “Please share with her what Edgeworth told you about last night.”
“You mean the absolutely top secret thing that he told me he’d kill me if I told you?”
“Yeah, like he always does when he wants to make sure you tell me something immediately.”
“Wait,” Athena said. There was only one Edgeworth she’d ever heard of. And there was no way he’d spill anything to a defense attorney. “Like, the chief prosecutor? That Edgeworth?”
“Yep,” the lawyer -- Phoenix -- said. “Chief Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth, who also happens to be,” he tapped a finger against his collar, “my master, and who will absolutely be furious if I tell you anything. He’ll probably tie me up and whip me.”
Athena started to tell him not to, she didn’t want him to get hurt, but Ms. Fey laughed. “Yeah, and how much are you looking forward to that?”
“So much,” Phoenix said, with a dreamy look in his eyes. “But date night isn’t until Saturday.” He cleared his throat. “But I trust you, Chief, so… it’s top secret for another few days, but he’s been talking to Simon Blackquill’s handler and is definitely going to bring him back as a prosecutor. And that should be enough, he thinks, to make sure Blackquill avoids execution -- if Miles makes a public show about believing Blackquill is reformed it’ll be hard for the judge to go against.”
“Really?” Athena asked, her eyes going wide. “The chief prosecutor is trying to help my uncle?”
“Uncle?” Phoenix repeated. “You’re his… okay, he’s going to be considerably less pissed at me when I tell him about this. Oh, hey, nice to meet you, by the way.” He held out a hand. “Phoenix Wright.”
“Athena Cykes,” she said, and shook his hand.
“Athena Cykes,” Mia repeated, “as in, daughter of allegedly subversive researcher Metis Cykes, Blackquill’s sister-in-law. And victim.”
“Except he didn’t do it,” Athena said.
Phoenix grinned. “Something tells me things around here are about to get really interesting.”