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“I came as soon as I-” Apollo pants and leans on the doorframe trying to catch his breath. The damn hospital’s parking lot was full, so the taxicab driver decided to stop a whole kilometre away. “As- I- As I heard.” He clutches at a stitch, waits for it to subside. It does. He pulls Clay’s tattered coat over his shoulder, which had been falling off since he left the cab and sprinted to the hospital. Damn wind.
Clay blinks at him. Fresh out of a coma, breathing laboured and a sharp pain in his chest despite all the painkillers, he grimaced at the lawyer. “I… can tell. I’m not going anywhere any time soon, Polly. ‘M right here. You coulda waited.” He chuckles, then winces a little bit, shifting in his bed as Apollo moves to sit next to him and holds his hand, gently, as if he could break the man with a little too much pressure. It’s sweaty, Clay notes.
“I just thought you were dead. I was so worried. And then in the middle of the trial for your murder, some guy- a detective guy, Fulbright or whatever- I don’t even know how he got in there- bursts in and says you were alive, which was great, but then I blacked out because oh my God, my best friend is alive? He’s actually alive?- and anyway I woke up in the- in-” Apollo, his voice rising, unconsciously squeezes Clay’s hand and Clay squeezes back.
“Take your time.” Apollo nods, and Clay runs his thumb across the back of Apollo’s hand. He breathes in. And out. In. Out.
“I woke up a few seconds later, still in court. And Mr Wright- he- he told me you were in a coma. Which sucked. I had to leave the courtroom so I could get all my thoughts in order, it was so embarrassing, Mr Wright had to take over- And, um, a few days? Weeks?- Later, I find you’ve regained all of your senses and you don’t have any memory problems, and you’re kinda? Kinda stable? And that, just, it, it… I had to come. I had to see you.”
Clay lets go of Apollo’s hand and pulls him down a little by his tie. Strokes his hair, and grazes his fingers over the bandage covering Apollo’s right eye. Finally, he rests his hand on his shoulder. “Wearing your presumed dead best friend’s jacket? Wow, Justice.” Apollo’s eyes widened. Clay laughed, louder this time. Livelier. He tried to ignore the stabbing pain in his chest, and smiled at Apollo, who did the same, if sheepishly.
“I needed to honour you somehow…”
“Pssssshh- That’s so soppy, Justice.”
Sheepishness turned to mock outrage. “Well, what would you rather I do?”
“I don’t know. Turn up to my grave with a shower speaker- yes, a shower speaker, don’t look at me like that, Polly- and blast my favourite songs while getting shitfaced drunk? Come on, Justice, if I were dead, I would at least want you to live a little. Pun intended.”
“On your grave.”
“On my grave. I’d like to be included.” Clay beams at Apollo, squeezes his shoulder and lets his hand wander down to Apollo’s once more. The feeling of relief that he’s still here hits Apollo a bit more heavily now. Not that it wasn’t there in the first place - just exacerbated.
“You are quite possibly the most insufferable person I’ve ever known.”
“And yet, here you are, sitting on my hospital bed. Holding my hand, no less.” Apollo moves to punch Clay’s shoulder, then settles for a gentle flick.
“I missed you. I was ready to commit a murder if it meant yours wasn’t in vain.”
Clay opens his mouth, probably to quip, then, says, quietly, “I’m glad you didn’t.”
“I’m just happy you’re alive. Are you? Are you even here? I still feel like I’m dreaming.”
“I’m here, Apollo.” Clay squeezes his hand, and guides Apollo’s hand to his cheek. He presses his mouth to Apollo’s palm, and lets go. Apollo keeps his hand close. “Speaking of which, how could it have been that it took a full two days for people to figure out I was still alive? It makes no sense, right? I mean, I overheard the doctors say that I should have died within an hour or so.”
“You’re… actually right.”
“Justice, that detective guy, Fulbright, was it?-”
“Yeah, Fulbright, that’s the one.”
“You said you don’t know how he got cleared?”
“Well- I mean, I thought he was working with Blackquill, though, right?”
“It’s worth looking into. Something’s off about that guy. His name. It’s… it’s familiar.”
Apollo gulps, then nods. His phone goes off. He doesn’t take the call.
“I’ll look into it.” A ping sounds from his phone, and both Clay and Apollo peer at the screen. Clay looks up at him.
(1) new Voicemail from: Phoenix Wright
It plays automatically.
“Apollo- Apollo, kid, you there?” A short pause, and the sound of a clamouring court, slowly getting quieter, can be heard under feet hitting a stone floor and Mr Wright’s pants. The steps slow to a stop, and Mr Wright’s voice is suddenly more quiet. “Apollo, we need you in the court right now. Athena’s been accused of your friend’s attempted murder. Kid, you gotta get here as soon as you can, shit’s hitting the fan- it’s really bad, kid. Text me when you’re on your way. Hurry.”
Clay looks up at Apollo. “You should go.”
“That sounds like a good idea, but I-”
“I’ll be fine, Apollo. I’ve seen Athena around enough times to know she didn’t kill me. Trust me on this.”
“But you-”
Clay pushes him gently, obviously trying to nudge him off the bed. “Go. They need you out there. I’ll be fine,” he reiterates. “Clay Terran is fine.”
Apollo looks at him, fear and doubt clouding his vision as he slides off the bed and begins discarding Clay’s jacket.
“Keep it on. It looks hot on you.” Apollo blushes. “Now, go!”
“Right.” Apollo begins walking toward the door, then suddenly turns back to face his best friend. “You’ll be-”
“Stop worrying about me, Polly. Whatever happens, you’re not in control of my condition. Worry about the things you can change.“ For a bedridden man living only with the support of a few tubes and copious bandages, Clay sure had a lot of energy.
Apollo pauses a second, then strides over, pressing a small kiss on Clay’s temple. “Don’t die when I’m gone.”
Clay pauses, then gently pulls Apollo by his tie, and kisses him fully. Clay had always wanted to do that, and now that it happened, he was surprised he'd never done it before. If there was a blush on Apollo's face, it didn't show. There were no sparks; only familiarity. “Don’t fuck up if I do.”, he whispers, being pulled back to the current moment. They both laugh too loudly, and Apollo walks backwards out the door as Clay salutes him.
"Um. Clay?"
"This better be the last stall."
"...I love you. I wanted to say that before you left, but-"
"I love you too. Get out." And with that, Apollo is almost telepathically pushed out of the door.
“Clay Terran is fine,” Apollo repeats to himself as he weaves through the hospital corridors to the courthouse. “And Apollo Justice is fine.”