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Maya is shamelessly staring when she asks, “Hey, is that the necklace Adrian got you?”
“Yes, it is.”
“You wore it yesterday too.”
More confused, this time. “Yes, I did. Do you not like it?”
Maya hums from the strangely flat couch that she isn’t used to yet, and won’t have time to get used to before she leaves. She rolls around onto her back, never taking her eyes off of the woman across the room, so her neck is awkwardly bent backwards over the edge of the cushion. “No, no, I like it. I was just curious, since you wear it so much, ya’know?”
“It’s a very sophisticated necklace. It compliments me.” She sounds confident, but upside-down Franziska looks back warily, as if afraid she’d stumbled into a trick question, and Maya feels a wave of - of something . Fran is always like that, waiting for the other shoe to drop, waiting for you to flare out your hands and yell, ‘Surprise! That was a test! You failed!’, and it makes something ache in her stomach to think that she’s still not an exception to that, even after all this time.
Not that she would ever blame her for that. She’ll get there one day. Miles is the only one with that privilege, as far as she knows, and thinking about how happy they make each other always melts her little heart. It’s what they deserve, both of them.
The melty-feeling doesn’t happen this time, though, because Franziska is still looking at her as if she’d just been asked a leading question in an interrogation, and the clear discomfort there makes the ache worse. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Maya wonders when Franziska last laughed, and at what, and if she could make her do it again. She’s still trying to think of a joke about - something? man, what would Franziska even find funny? - when her mouth moves without her permission, and the idea is lost entirely.
“How is Adrian? Are you guys, uh. Close? Still?”, she asks, and it surprises her more than it should. After all, she has been wondering for weeks now. For a long time, it was rare to see the two apart. Where Franziska went, Adrian would be there right next to her (anywhere that wasn’t sectioned off by the police, or a court of law, of course), chatting happily about a new client she was managing or the last book she’d read. It was usually one of those two. Not that Maya had listened, obviously.
The abrupt change from seeing them together constantly to never seeing them in the same room - never seeing Adrian at all , because Maya had never really been close to her anyway - had been… jarring. She’d mentioned it to Edgeworth once, on one of the days where she’d inserted herself in his office and refused to leave, and he’s claimed to not have noticed, but she could tell he had. Everyone had.
Something had to have happened. Maybe she’s prying a bit, but is it a crime to be curious? Franziska is basically her best friend at this point, aside from Nick who doesn’t count because he’s more of a brother, and it’s her right - legally - to worry about her. And also, Maya’s been thinking, well - Franziska never left work early to see her , the way she did with Adrian. Franziska never told Maya about the mundane details of her day, or shared things that reminded her of Maya, or invited her over every other day, the way Maya did for her. There’s a pretty high chance that she’s more invested in this friendship than Franziska is, that maybe she’s not Franziska’s best friend in return. If she’s not, and Adrian is, then, well. That’s fine. Adrian has complimentary taste in jewelry.
It’s fine. She just wants to know. But she hadn’t exactlyplanned on asking about it.
Oh, well. In for a penny and all that.
Franziska huffs, and “Are we still ‘close’?” is the only answer Maya gets at first. Doesn’t help at all.
“Yeah. You guys never hang out anymore. Is that my fault? Because I keep inviting you over? Am I taking over your life, or something? I’ve seen you every day this week.”
“I choose to spend my time with you. Besides, the nature of my work makes it hard for us to avoid each other. A large portion of the last week was spent in a courtroom, where you helped Phoenix Wright defeat me.”
Maya waves her hand vaguely. “Don’t worry, I won’t hold it over you.”
Where her expression before had been almost scared (which Maya would never say to her face, because last time she had she got an earful – “I do not get ‘scared’, Maya Fey, I am a Von Karma, therefore I am perfect and impervious to beam attacks”, or something along those lines), now Franziska just looks - kinda amused? More amused than she usually looks when Maya tells an actual joke, which is a bit insulting. Fran turns back to the laptop she has set up on Maya’s shitty little dining table, surrounded by papers and files and blah blah lawyer things - maybe a few autopsy reports, but all those manila folders look the same and none of them are labeled, so they could be anything.
(Saying the shitty table belongs to Maya is a bit misleading. It actually belongs to the landlord that’s currently banging pots and pans in the apartment upstairs. Maya’s only here for a few months while she helps Nick in LA, and it’s hardly homely, with how few of her belongings are actually here. But for the time being, it’s her’s, as much as she hates it - and God, she does hate it. Besides, she doesn’t even really care about where she stays or what she owns there as long as Nick or Pearl are around. Maya lives in people, not rooms, and those are her people.)
Without looking up from whatever she’s typing, Franziska hums and says, “We still see each other fairly regularly. If you’re wondering if we’re still together, we’re not. Adrian amicably ended the romantic portion of our relationship over a month ago. I assumed as much would be obvious.”
Maya feels herself fall slightly sideways.
Franziska just says that, like it’s normal. Like it makes sense.
Vaguely aware that her mouth is hanging open, Maya manages a quiet “You - whuh? Huh?” before losing her speech again. Franziska doesn’t seem to notice.
“I am a very different person than I was when we entered our relationship, I think,” she continues, idly thumbing through a folder, as is she’s talking about the fucking weather or something. “Adrian is… not the same as she was, necessarily, but she’s been consistent, and I was still a very young adult when we got together. She didn’t need to grow as I did. I – well,” and she pauses to lightly clear her throat. She finds the sheet she was looking for and moves it to the top of the nearest pile. The slight break in composure calms Maya down, but only a little. God, what? Her heart is pounding. “My only regret is that I noticed the problem long ago, but I hesitated and… made her make the decision for me, like a coward. But Adrian is a wonderful person, and does not hold a grudge against me, as much as I may deserve it just this once. Do you have any staples?”
“Do I… um.” That was a lot to take in - both the relationship bomb and the fact that Franziska just willingly insulted herself . Maya rolls again, sitting up halfway and leaning on her hands as she stares at Franziska, who might as well grow a second head at this point. “No, I don’t have any. You and Adrian dated?”
The amused look is back, but with an added air of incredulity. “Yes. It’s not as if I ever made any attempts to hide it. You’d have to be a fool not to notice.” The last sentence isn’t technically an accusation, but in the very judgemental and unfairly smooth voice of Franziska Von Karma, it sure sounds like one.
“You – for how long?”
“We broke up two weeks before our six month anniversary.”
Six months?
Maya is on her feet in a second, pacing back and forth in the space between the living room and kitchen, which admittedly is not enough space for pacing. “You – but you – you never said ! You just - I mean, we hang out all the time and we’re not dating, I would know, and sure she bought you all those gifts but… but, I mean, Gumshoe bought you that bear a while back –”
“That was a present for my brother, I was simply the messenger. Besides, I am a lesbian, and he’s married.”
“Engaged,” Maya corrects absently, staring at a slight discoloration on the wall. She hates this apartment. “He’s engaged. Why didn’t you ever just tell me?”
Franziska seems to be getting agitated now, and her hand is twitching in that way it does when she wishes she had a whip to crack, or just a fidget toy to keep her occupied. “You have been Phoenix Wright’s right-hand man in the courtroom for years now, and you couldn’t come to this conclusion yourself?”
“I can’t believe you’re saying this to me,” Maya exclaims, nearly throwing her hands in the air in her disbelief. “Do you know me at all? My job in court is to look cute and make fun of Edgeworth! I don’t deduce! The only reason I go to the crime scenes is so I can find new nick-nacks to take home!”
“You steal from crime scenes?”
“Yes! Stop trying to change the subject, we’re talking about how you don’t talk to me about things!”
“Are we?” The laptop and papers are completely forgotten now, with Franziska turning in her chair and crossing her arms defensively, which, yeah , does make Maya feel a bit guilty. She might be overreacting. Not that she’s about to stop. “Is that what’s upsetting you, that I didn’t tell you? Or is there something else?”
Maya barely hears her. “Did Edgeworth know?”
“I am sure he –”
“Did you tell him?”
A tense silence lingers for a moment. “... I never said it, no.”
“Fran, you –”, Maya starts, before she looks up from where she’s been counting the floorboards to actually look at her friend and finds her completely tensed up. Her shoulders are at her ears, arms crossed so tightly it might hurt, and she’s glaring at the table as if it’s chipped wood is to blame for her inability to communicate. Maya hears herself sigh, all the surprise and inexplicable frustration draining from her like air from a popped balloon, leaving behind a bone-deep need to help.
Maya pretends to not notice Franziska jump when she pulls back a chair to sit across from her, gently touching her elbows and guiding Fran’s hands into her own. She holds them gently, carefully, leaving the way clear if they want to retreat. They don’t, and that makes her want to cry, for some reason. Not the time. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you, that was really weird of me. I just - I’m. Surprised? That was your first relationship, yeah?”
Franziska sucks some air in through her teeth, so slightly that Maya almost doesn’t notice. “How do you know that?”
“You told me that you’d never dated, ages ago.”
“I - Ah. You remember.”
Maya laughs. “Of course I do, I remember everything about you. I just mean… your first relationship, and it lasted almost six months … that’s serious, right? That’s, like, a big life step?” Franziska allows a tense nod, but doesn’t respond, so she powers on. “I…. Mn. How do I say this. It’s like - remember when Nick wanted to try taking driving lessons, and he did, like, one, then immediately changed his mind and decided to wait another few years?”
“No. I don’t care about the details of Phoenix Wright’s life.”
“I know you don’t, you’re smart like that,” Maya says sagely, temporarily detaching one of her hands to pat Franziska’s knee fondly. It gets Fran’s mouth to upturn slightly, which - wow, Maya, stop looking at that, what’s wrong with you. “But he told me all that when he absolutely didn’t have to, because learning to drive would have been a really big deal to him, and I’m his friend so he knew I’d wanna hear about it. It’s like that. Was your relationship a big deal to you?”
“Well, yes, of course. I –”, Franziska says, and interrupts herself with a small grunt, the exact same way she had earlier. Her face is very pink, but it has been for a few minutes now, so Maya doesn’t think much of it. “I loved Adrian very much. She means a lot to me.”
Maya feels her stomach ache coming back and wonders what she ate. “Then I want to hear about it. I want you to tell me things, y’know? Obviously only what you’re comfortable with, and only stuff you want me to know, because I’m not holding a gun to your head, as much as the courts think I would. I just like hearing about your life and the important things in it, because you’re one of my favorite people ever, so they’re important to me too. As important as you are.”
And Franziska… doesn’t seem like she even wants to respond to that. She just stares at Maya, eyes wide, mouth set in a firm line, and very slowly retracts her hands, letting them rest on her lap. It’s like she’s frozen in - in horror, or something. Which is fine. Maya feels totally weird now, like she’d just puked on her or something, which she honestly feels like she could do if it wouldn’t be really gross and make everything worse. Instead, she grabs Franziska’s empty mug and goes to stand, turning her body towards the coffee machine in the corner.
It’s really fine. She didn’t say anything creepy, or overly revealing, or – whatever. She loves her friend, and her friend looked sad, and she did her best to help. Now the moment is over, so she needs to change the subject, stat.
“Enough about that. Do you want a refill? I still don’t think you should drink this stuff past midday, but you look like you have a lot of –”
“Maya Fey,” Franziska says way too loudly for the distance between them, reaching out and gently grabbing Maya’s empty hand, effectively halting her journey to the kitchen counter. Maya turns back to look at her, but instead of meeting her eyes, Franziska is looking at the shitty, shitty table again. Softer, this time, like she’s forgiven it. Or maybe Maya’s just projecting onto a table. “I have – something I want to tell you.”
Maya blinks. “You do?”
“Not today,” Franziska adds a bit too quickly, looking so uncharacteristically out of her depth that Maya would laugh under any other circumstance. She looks like a kid trying to explain to their teacher why their homework is late, all nerves and flushed cheeks and - a bit of guilt, maybe? Which, hey now, that’s not what Maya wanted at all. “I can’t tell you today. But I would like to. In the - in the future.”
“That’s fine,” Maya says haltingly, easing back into her chair. Slow, careful approach. Franziska is this emotionally honest maybe twice a year, and she doesn’t want to ruin it by creaking a floorboard or something. God, fuck this apartment, she should’ve just stayed with Nick. “Like I said, you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. It’s fine, yeah?”
The exhale that follows is so deep it sounds like Franziska is emptying a whole lung, and she lets go of Maya’s hand again, but it stings less this time. “Obviously. I would never do something that I’m uncomfortable with. In the Von Karma family, we –”
Maya huffs a laugh, looking down at her feet with a shake of her head. She never changes. “You stay noble and true to yourselves, or whatever. I know. Do you not want coffee, then? Because I’m not gonna offer again, I hate that machine. It spits at me.”
Maybe a few years ago her dismissal of the Von Karma title would’ve been met with offense, but now, it barely gets a reaction at all. Franziska is turning back towards her work again, which is a good sign that they’re back on neutral ground. “You simply don’t use it correctly - you press the button far too early. And yes, please.”
Always so polite.
Now that she isn’t likely to get caught, Maya lets herself stare, just for a moment. Franziska’s hair shines in the yellow light, a bit long where she hasn’t had her monthly cut yet, but still much shorter than it was when they met. Her fringe shields her face from the ceiling light, but the blue glow of the laptop screen makes her look paler than usual, emphasizing the dark spot under her eye that Maya’s always wanted to touch. Her expression is mostly neutral, but there’s still a slight tension around her eyes and crease to her mouth that screams ‘that entire conversation was awful and I’m going to be thinking about it for a week’. Other than that, she looks - well, about as comfortable as she can get, cozy in a washed out sweater that still probably cost more than Maya’s entire wardrobe, blanketed by the quaint surroundings of Maya’s temporary living space. She looks… soft. Sweet in a way she almost never allows herself to be.
She thinks about Franziska looking happy in Maya’s kitchen, drinking Maya’s coffee from Maya’s mug. She looks, and she thinks, and she looks away. She starts the machine, and it splashes her, like she knew it would. Nonsensically, she thinks - if Adrian’s her ex, and Fran said ‘loved’ in the past tense, then Maya must be her best friend, right?
It’s too much, suddenly. She needs to get out of her own head.
“... Was Adrian a good kisser?”
“Was sh– Maya Fey, that is none of your business.”
And that’s it, for a while.
It’s childish, but it feels important enough for her to allow herself the childishness, and it tides her over for the weeks that she and Franziska are apart. Their communication is sparse - it always has been, with how much Franziska hates texting and treats every phone call like a business meeting - and without the woman herself being around, it’s easy for Maya to spiral, so she just… tries not to think about it. When she does think about it, she thinks: you are important to her, you’re her friend, you’re her closest friend.
It takes a few months for this to really wear her down.
She’s back in Kurain, keeping Pearl company as the girl draws in her new notebook that Edgeworth bought her (“For her studies,” he’d said, but there were crayons in the bag too) and babbling about nothing in the way she only ever really does around Maya. Maya tries not to worry about this - she knows that Pearl knows that Maya isn’t her only friend, and she gets more and more talkative with Nick every time she sees him. Besides, it’s very sweet to think that Pearl trusts her enough to let her know her in-depth opinions on the series of fairy books she’s been obsessed with recently. The low wooden surface creaks slightly under the sheer force Pearl is putting into her crayon-strokes, because Kurain is old like that, and Maya reaches forward to gently ease her grip. Pearl’s eyes go a bit wide.
“I’m sorry, Mystic Maya.”
“Hey, no sorrys, you’re fine! Look, I’m smiling!” She exaggerates a grin, and Pearl responds with a toothy smile of her own. “She’s pretty. What kind of magic does she do?”
Pearl is drawing the character that is, apparently, her favorite: the protagonist of the 24th book - because books for kids are insane - who has lunar magic and can grow moon flowers, whatever those are. Her explanation for this preference so far has mainly boiled down to, A) she’s pretty, and B) she’s funny. Which Maya can relate to, honestly. She’s liked girls for less.
The character has shoulder-length silver hair, and is wearing a flowing teal dress, and even through Pearl’s less-than-stellar artistic ability (she’s a kid, okay, she’ll get better), it’s a bit scary how much she looks like some weird alternate universe version of Franziska where she isn’t butch. The thought makes Maya shudder. She wonders if Franziska ever got that new suit she once mentioned, and suddenly Maya misses her like a hole in her heart.
Does Franziska miss her? Maybe? Probably not. She’s probably busy.
She’s about to tell Pearl as much - just the ‘she looks kinda like Franziska’ bit, not the thing about femininity or her own attachment issues, because that might be a bit much for a baby - when she hears someone yelling for her, saying that her ‘boyfriend’ is on the payphone. She shudders again.
“What do you want,” Maya grunts as rudely as she can when she picks up the phone, waving goodbye to the person who passed it to her. Nick barks a laugh on the other end, like she knew he would. It’s almost eleven in the morning and there’s some distant clattering in the background, which means he probably has his phone smushed up between his shoulder and cheek while he reheats some leftovers, the slob.
“Y’don’t sound too happy to hear from me.”
“He says after he doesn’t text me for a week,” she tries to quip, but her tone gives away that she’s not actually mad. They’ve not talked for longer and been fine. It’s just fun to poke at him every now and then. “I get reception in the woods. And I have a really fancy phone, now, you know. Your boyfriend bought it for me, remember? It has a touch screen and everything.”
“I’ve been busy. And he’s not my boyfriend,” he adds, which is his weakest denial yet. “Has he confessed to that yet, by the way? The phone thing?”
She laughs, deep from her belly, because seriously? “What? No! Of course he hasn’t! He still says it was some random well-off sap who was ‘moved by my story’ or something. As if that’s better than receiving a gift from a friend.” She shifts the phone to her other ear, turning to lean against the cool wall of the booth, and hums. “Has he used the F word yet? Hey, do you think we can finally drag him to lunch with us soon, when I’m back in LA? Have you worn him down? I bet you have. He’s a sucker for that weird puppy-dog face you do.”
Nick just – grunts , at that. Weirdo. She misses him so much. “No, no, and no. He’s always busy. Honestly, I feel like it’ll be a decade before he even admits to me that he eats.” More kitchen noises - this time the sound of an opening cutlery drawer - and when he talks again it sounds like he has his mouth full. “And, uh, that’s actually what I was calling you about.”
She frowns. “What, Edgeworth eating?”
“No , not that. You coming home. Or, not - uh. Back, I mean. You’re home right now, obviously. I meant you coming back to LA.” Nick sounds genuinely horrified at the mistake, and she feels herself soften. Ah, he misses her too. That’s sweet.
But then she thinks about it for a second and – “Wait, why? Is something wrong? I’m not meant to be back for another few weeks. Do you need me for a case?”
He sighs directly into the phone, which is ew because she can practically hear the day-old-takeout on his lip. “I don’t need someone to die for me to want to see you. Besides, you’re no help in my investigations anyway. And you take all the nick-nacks.”
“Slander against my character, I could sue you for that. C’mon, if it’s not that then why do you want me back? What’s up?” An uncomfortable silence passes. “You never do this, we’re not that codependent. Cough it up, Nick.” The silence stretches. At first she thinks he’s taking a second to chew before he responds, but this is a bit much for that. “Did someone set you up for this? Was it Pearl? Because I swear, I’ve tried to change her mind, but I don’t think she knows what gay people are yet –”
“It’s not –” he interrupts, and if she closes her eyes she could see the way he’s pinching the bridge of his nose, because thinking about Pearl’s strange assumptions about the two of them always gives him a headache. “It wasn’t Pearl, she hasn’t called me. It wasn’t anyone. I just, uh…”
She doesn’t respond, silently urging him to continue.
“... Listen, Franziska’s been hanging around me a lot recently.”
Maya - stops, for a second. As in, her brain shuts down, because she hadn’t been expecting Fran to come up in this conversation at all. “Fanziska has? Like, Von Karma?”
“Mhmm, that one. Because we know so many Franziskas ,” Nick says, and he sounds genuinely pretty tired now, which is doubly worrying. Nick stopped being actually annoyed by Franziska’s weirdness ages ago. “I know it sounds weird, but - you don’t understand, she is always around . Every crime scene I go to. Every time I go to the station. Every time - I don’t know, you get it. And she doesn’t even really talk to me, even though I can tell she wants to? She just kinda hovers, mostly. It’s so weird. Even Edgeworth said it was weird.”
“Isn’t it her job to hang around you? Court rivals, or whatever?”
“Yes, but this is constant. Excessive. I think I’m actually negatively affecting her work, which is an upside when it comes to trials, but I don’t think the stress is worth it.”
Maya looks through the windows of the booth and sees Pearl stacking up autumn leaves into a pile outside, seemingly categorizing them by size. She breathes, and tries to imagine Franziska floating aimlessly like that around Phoenix Wright of all people, and finds she simply can’t. “What do you mean, ‘mostly’?”
“Hm?”
“You said she’s mostly hovering. What else is going on?”
“Well, she, uh,” he starts, obviously uncomfortable. She wonders how he expected this conversation to go, if not like this, but since when has Nick ever put any prior thought into anything? “She did ask me something yesterday.”
“Your ideal way to die?”
He giggles a bit. “Wh - no, not that.”
“Your achilles heel? Your least favorite torture method?”
“I’m being serious,” he says, but he sounds like he’s grinning.
“So am I.” She pauses. “And I’m sure she would be, too. If she asked those things.”
There’s a quiet moment where she’s sure Nick shakes his head. “She asked me about Kurain, actually.”
Maya deflates, just a bit, which is - stupid. She’s not sure what she expected - ‘she asked about you, actually! She asked if you were single and wanted her hand in marriage, and she did it through me, Phoenix, for some reason!’ - but it hadn’t been that. What could Franziska want to know about Kurain that she didn’t already?
“What could she want to know about Kurain that she doesn’t already?”
“Uh. Visitation rules, mostly? More specifically, if you have any.” On the other end, Nick stands up, probably to leave his dish by the sink and not do anything about it for twelve hours minimum. Again, he’s a slob. “She was asking how often I’d been there, why I’d gone there, how long I’d gone there for. All that kinda stuff. And when I told her I’d mostly visited for work reasons she almost whipped me again, which hasn’t happened in a while. Didn’t you buy her a fidget toy or a stress ball or something?”
“Yeah, we looked at fidget toys,” Maya says, absent, feeling like she’s back at that shitty temporary apartment from a few months ago, staring at a spot on the wall. “She has them somewhere, but she doesn’t use them enough. Uh, this is. I mean. Do you think she –”
“Misses you? Yeah, for sure,” he says, casually. Like it’s normal. Maya wishes any of this felt normal. “ That’s why I want you back. I’m scared that if I dont bring you to work on Monday she’s gonna bite my head off. Turn me into mush and feed me to her children.”
“She doesn’t have any children.”
“It’s a joke about birds, or something. You know what I meant.”
“Hey, Nick? This is, uh. Really weird. I feel weird about this,” she mutters, and as she says it she realizes it’s true. Her hands feel clammy, and her jaw is clenched, and there’s an overbearing heat behind her eyes. She feels - off base. Unbalanced. Everything feels strange now, because she’d missed Franziska a lot, the same way she always does when she doesn’t see her for over a month, but it’s never been mutual, has it?
And that makes sense, because Franziska, as long as she’s known her, has had a very clear list of priorities: herself first, then the law, then Edgeworth, and then - well, everything else. Maya isn’t harsh enough to rank herself anywhere near the bottom of the list - she wouldn’t accuse Fran of being so cold, either - but she’d be comfortable placing herself about… halfway down? Franziska likes her well enough, and when they’re both in LA they hang out all the time, and Maya texts her almost every day, but it’s not like Franziska replies often or invites her over or tells Maya about her life , and – well. No, okay, she’s not mad about the Adrian thing. Sad, maybe? But not angry. It’s been months.
Ugh.
“Don’t start crying on me, Maya, I don’t do well with crying. Are you okay? Did I upset you? Fuck, now she’s gonna kill me for real. You won’t tell her about this, right? You don’t want me to die.”
This gets a weak chuckle out of her - he’s babbling to pull her out of her own head, she knows, and it works almost instantly. “I’m an experienced killer, you’d know by now if I wanted you dead.”
“Ah, the old familiar.” Another shuffle, like the phone’s moved to another hand, and he sounds fond. “An ‘I should be in jail for murder’ joke. It’s been a while.”
“Well, it’s been a while since I’ve been accused,” she says, even though it really hasn’t, in the grand scheme of things. “Do you really think she misses me? She’s never… well, I wouldn’t be able to tell if she did, y’know?” Pulling up her phone and opening their text history, she sees her ‘good morning!! GL at work today!! (っ˘ω˘ς )’ text has been received, but not opened. “I honestly thought she’d forgotten I’d left.”
The silent moment that follows is only unsettling as she lets it be. Eventually, Nick lets out a slight cough, like he’s preparing for a grand speech, but all he says is, “You know you’re her favorite person, right?”
What? “What?” That’s not true.
“I mean, maybe after her brother, but it’d be weird if you came above him. Those two need each other. But yeah, after him, you’re it. I’ve never seen her talk to someone the way she talks to you - like you’re the only person in the room worth talking to. It’s really sweet, actually.”
Suddenly, her tongue feels wooden.
“And when you’re not around, she always seems a bit more stressed, I think,” he continues. Maya is extremely grateful for how serious he sounds: he’s not being dismissive, or condescending. Just stating a fact that he thinks she deserves to know, whether it’s comfortable or not. It reminds her why he’s such a good lawyer. “Don’t worry - she’s okay, I’m pretty sure. But I usually get the vibe she’d be better if you were there.”
Maya lets out a deep breath. Her hand rests on the side of her thigh, idly pulling on one of the long hairs on her leg. It feels like a pinch. What he’s saying - it sounds fake, like wishful thinking, but she doesn’t think Nick would lie about something like this, especially not to her. If it’s true then it’s… a mixed bag, honestly. She wants Fran to care about her like that, wants her to notice when she’s not around, but it stings a bit to think that Maya’s been so bad at reading the woman she calls her best friend all because she’s been - what, insecure? It makes her feel awful. Slimy and gross.
“How much longer is she in LA?”
“Oh, I have no clue. You think she tells me these things?”
“No, yeah, but –”, she fumbles, feeling a weird urgency just under her skin. “Is she working multiple cases, or something? That usually means she’s staying a while.”
Nick hums. “Yeah. I’m going against her in court again in a few days, and I think she’s made herself available for work for the next three months, at least. Gotta keep on top of that so I know when to take a medkit to the courthouse.” It sounds like a joke, but she knows it’s not.
“I… Mhm. Okay. Well.”
“Well.”
“I’m not coming back early.”
“Yeah, you’re busy.”
“And she can’t come to me, since it sounds like she’s busy too.”
“Yuup.”
“Just… tell her to answer my messages more, I guess? And don’t let her scare you. She’s all bark.”
“She is with you,” he scoffs. “With us, she’s all bite.”
“Stop calling her gay for me, I’m gonna explode,” she whines, almost petulant. Nick doesn’t respond, but she can imagine the look he gives her, anyway. Her face feels like it’s on fire. “Look, I gotta go. I’m supposed to be looking after Pearl, and I can see her making a mess of the pond outside.”
“You’re looking after Pearl? Aren’t you there for training?”
“I don’t do medium stuff all the time. Plus, I take clients more than I train, these days. I had a really rough one yesterday. A mother wanted to talk to her son. She hadn’t seen him for years before he died. I, uh,” she clears her throat. “It was a lot, so I’m taking some time to calm down. Get centered again, and all that.”
“Right,” Nick says, with so much concern oozing from his voice that Maya almost hangs up without saying goodbye. “Are you –”
“Okay? Yeah, I’m okay. I’m always okay.” It comes out in a rush, and isn’t convincing at all, but she doesn’t give him time to cross-examine. “Like I said, I gotta go. I’ll tell Pearl you said hi, before you ask.”
“Mn,” he acknowledges, but at the same time she hears the sound of a door opening behind him, and someone shuffling in. Heavy footsteps, sheepish mumbling - Gumshoe. “Just – you’ll tell me if you’re not? Not okay, I mean?”
“Sure thing, boss man. Remember, tell Fran t –”
“Your texts, yeah.“ His voice comes through a bit quieter, like he’s moving away from the phone. Knowing him, he’s gonna cycle to the station the second she’s off the line. “Yeah, I gotta go, too. I’ll talk to her. And I’ll see you soon, okay? Picking you up at the station?”
“Gumshoe’s picking me up. You’ll be in the back seat.”
“Nuh-uh, I’m calling shotgun. I wear a suit to work, I’m too old to sit in the back seat.”
“You’re such a kid. Bye,” she says with a smile, already moving to put the phone back on the hook.
She barely hears a soft “Bye,” before the click.
Well.
That’s certainly some food for thought. Not necessarily coherent thought - she doesn’t come to any conclusions about anything - but the idea of Franziska fussing over her absence lingers for the rest of the day. Pearl seems to notice her change in mood, but being the little sweetheart she is, she doesn’t mention it, instead deciding to drill her with questions about Nick. How he is, why he called her, wedding plans, stuff like that. Talking about any man around Pearl can be tricky sometimes, but it’s fine as long as she’s careful, and it’s always a useful teaching moment when she gets to remind her that not every close relationship in your life has to be romantic. Beyond that - well, it’s as good of a distraction as she’s gonna get, right now.
Distractions don’t last long in Kurain.
Later that night, Maya is wrapped up in an oversized fleece she stole from Mia years ago while she wanders out of the village in the dark, like she does most nights. She’s been warned by the elders that it’s dangerous, but she likes to think she’s pretty good at taking care of herself by now, and it’s nice to have a moment to herself to just breathe.
By nature of her life, she’s rarely by herself, and the constant energy output required for it all would drag on anyone. The trees around her are familiar, peaceful - as a kid, more sheltered and restricted, she always wanted to go on night walks like this, imagining that being alone among the trunks and foliage would make her feel like the only person on the planet. Mia always doubted the value of it, yearning for the city instead, wanting noise and movement and action. Now Maya knows she’d been right all along, and she’d say it to Mia’s face if she could.
It wasn’t a bad thing that Mia had always preferred the metal forest over her boring old wooden one. Maya had always supported anything that would make her sister happy. Now, though, she looks back and wonders if she could’ve done something to make Kurain more exciting for her, so they could’ve spent more time together.
She tries not to dwell on it.
Most importantly, it just so happens that there’s a spot out here that actually getssignal . It’s a very specific art, finding the exact way to angle your device to pick it up, but it’s worth it to actually talk to people. She’d found it last year when she’d been holding onto Nick’s ancient phone for him (he hated getting calls at work, but is too much of a worrywart to leave it at home) and wandering among the trees while she waited for him to be done investigating a crime scene nearby. It had been a case involving two brothers, one of them being the victim and the other being the accused, and the whole thing had been - yeah. A bit too close to home. So, she floated around out here, and just as she stepped into a slight clearing near the road, the phone suddenly lit up with, like, sixmissed calls from Gumshoe, and she immediately ran towards Nick’s crime scene, calling Gumshoe back just in case something bad had happened.
Something bad had happened, because when doesn’t it, but they sorted it out in the end, because when don’t they?
These days, the clearing has an old tree trunk laid out as a makeshift bench, and she brings out a blanket to sit and watch the stars on it every few days, checking for messages from her friends. Tonight, she has a text from Larry, who is not her friend so she doesn’t bother to read it, and one from Franziska.
Hello, Maya Fey. [✓, 22: 48]
She stares down at her screen as the typing dots appear and disappear over and over below the message. Nick must’ve said something to her, because this is unprecedented conduct. Franziska uses texts like letters: all composed paragraphs, sometimes even with a sign off at the end. She doesn’t multi-text. What is going on with her?
Deciding to see how much she can push it, Maya doesn’t respond immediately, instead waiting to see what it is Franziska’s obviously struggling to put into words. It takes a while, and the wind sends an uncomfortable chill through her as she sits still on the rotting log, but she waits.
Your luck helped me at work today. Thank you very much. I hope that your day was pleasant, and that you rest well. [✓, 23: 01]
Maya puts a hand to her mouth, and feels the face-splitting grin there. What a loser. She took ten minutes to write that? How does Maya keep meeting the weirdest, most lovable people on the planet?
It’s not exactly the conversation she had in mind - the finality of the message didn’t leave her many openers - but it was still a message from Franziska, which is enough. Fran hates texting, but she did it anyway, because Maya asked. Wrestling her expression into something a bit less manic, she sends out a quick ‘thank you i will!!! sleep well fran!! don’t work too hard okayy’, and with that done, she goes home.
The next few weeks, every day is pretty similar. Maya goes on a morning walk, checks the Steel Samurai forums, sends a sweet message to Franziska and a mean message to Nick, and gets on with her day. Maya goes on nighttime walks daily now, laughs at the pictures Nick sends her, and smiles goofily at the singular text from Fran that always arrives late. It’s clear and concise every time: thank you for encouraging me, I hope you get a good night’s sleep, I hope you eat well, don’t push yourself, be patient with yourself. Different phrasing, same sentiment.
Thank you, the trial went well. My win is imminent. Have a full night’s rest, and eat well tomorrow. [✓, 22: 37]
You should be more careful wandering around at night, Maya Fey. If anything happens, do not hesitate to inform me. Please stay warm. [✓, 22: 59]
Phoenix Wright made my day a living hell, but your message helped me to endure it. Thank you. I hope you and Pearl enjoyed yourselves today. [✓, 21:59]
Always three sentences, always screaming I care, I care, I care.
The pattern breaks only once. It’s a similar night - clear skies, despite the earlier showers, and the mud beneath Maya’s shoes had squelched unpleasantly on the walk out. She’s lying lengthways on the log, this time, the blanket doing little to make it at all comfortable. The stars look beautiful this far from the city, and she’s too melancholy to really appreciate them.
Her phone buzzes against her stomach, and she lifts it above her face, squinting against the glaring light.
My apologies for my late response. You will probably see this in the morning. Nevertheless, I hope you had an enjoyable day, Maya Fey. You have worked hard. [✓, 23: 47]
Maya’s face scrunches up uncontrollably when she reads it, and she’s not close to crying, but she almost feels like she should be. Before she knows it, she’s typing her reply. She feels like a person outside of herself.
how do u know i worked hard? what if i slacked off all day? Ur not even here [✓, 23:48]
As soon as it’s sent, a pit of worry pools in her stomach. God, what a rude reply. Franziska’s just being nice to her - nicer than she’s done anything to deserve - and here she is, snapping back like an asshole. And Fran had read it instantly. Maya puts a hand to her face and groans. Foot-in-mouth, even over text.
But then her phone buzzes again, and she blinks.
You are someone with a very hardworking nature. You are constantly making efforts for the benefit of others. I trust that you have worked hard today, because as long as I have known you, you have never given me reason to believe otherwise. [✓, 23:49]
franny im literally the laziest person u know [✓, 23:49]
Why are you still outside, Maya Fey? It is late. [✓, 23:49]
Maya grits her teeth. Yeah, it’s weird for her to be replying this late, for sure. But the bite of the cold is grounding her, and the bumpy log against her back is a reminder that she’s alive enough to be uncomfortable, and no one at the manor has noticed that she’s gone because Pearl is long since asleep and her sister and mother are dead.
Her sister and mother are dead.
u can just call me maya yknow [✓, 23:51]
You did not answer my question. [✓, 23:51]
ok well im just saying its kinda weird jsyk like we’re friends and ur still using my whole name. u dont have to do that [✓, 23:51]
ppl usually dont do that w their friends and were friends right im not making that up [✓, 23:51]
We are friends. [✓, 23:52]
so call me maya [✓, 23:52]
For a few moments, Franziska starts typing, then stops, then starts again. Maya counts the moving dots like sheep.
Are you alright? [✓, 23:53]
Is she alright?
Mia Fey, hardworking, headstrong, kind. Deceased September 5th, 2016, with Maya as a suspect. Misty Fey, deceased February 7th, 2019. Caring, skilled, responsible. Absent, for Maya’s sake. For her own good.
not really [✓, 23:55]
Is there anything I can do to help you? [✓, 23:57]
She takes a second to breathe through her nose, eyes closed.
no its ok sorry for being moody. im just upset. usually i can handle it but sometimes its hard not to think about you know [✓, 23:57]
but its nothing i cant deal with its just grief. not much you can rlly do about grief when it hits u. especially when its for someone who ur still mad at. super weird feeling [✓, 23:57]
weird but manageable. ill be okay i promise. thank u for asking <3 [✓, 23:57]
A bug crawls across her knee, and she swats it away absently.
Grief is a tremendously difficult thing to deal with, especially when it is complicated by resentment. I understand that I cannot do much to help, but I hope it is of some comfort to know that I have been forced to handle feelings of a similar kind, and it has slowly become much easier. You are one of the strongest people that I know, and you are loved by many. It will not always feel this way. [✓, 23:59]
Maya watches the clock turn over to midnight, and feels her hands shaking. Water splashes onto the back of her phone in staggered drops from a leaf above her.
oh man how are u more emotionally intelligent than me this is embarrassingggg [✓, 00:01]
I have been attending counseling at the forceful request of my little brother. Although I am loath to admit it, it has benefitted me. [✓, 00:01]
was that monologue straight from ur therapy notes i cant believe u [✓, 00:01]
No, it was not. [✓, 00:01]
it def was [✓, 00:01]
Go home and get some rest, Maya Fey. [✓, 00:02]
just maya [✓, 00:02]
i will [✓, 00:02]
thank u. its nice to know that u get it. feels less lonely [✓, 00:02]
u make me feel less lonely [✓, 00:03]
You make me feel less lonely, too. You are extremely important to me. Sleep well. [✓, 00:03]
I care, I care, I care.
Maya leaves the blanket on the log that night, and imagines Mia using it, waiting for her to come back tomorrow.
The early train from Kurain is packed for no good reason, and Maya is overjoyed to get off it. When she steps onto the platform and breathes in LA for the first time in almost three months, she gets a nose-full of pollution and rubber and some piss stained on the concrete that the janitor hasn’t gotten around to cleaning yet, and it’s gross, but she’s glad to be back. It’s at eleven am on the dot on a very pleasant Tuesday, and the crowd is sparse, so she barely has to look around for a moment before she sees Phoenix and Gumshoe - though, to be fair, it’s hard to miss two men built like buildings standing among the normal folk. Maya has briefly wondered in the past if Nick had a secret night-time gym membership, but now she knows how he lives, and is sure his build is just a freak of nature.
The reunion between them is far too mushy for three people who have only been apart for a few months, especially considering that her and Gumshoe aren’t even that close, and they get a few odd looks from the people around them for being so loud but she doesn’t care because it’s so, so sweet, and so them . There’s teary eyes and a bit of snot that Nick tries (and fails) to pin on her, which is ridiculous because she hasn’t been gone that long. Then she climbs into the front seat of Gumshoe’s beat up old car, sticking her tongue out at Nick through the rear-view mirror, and they drive back to Nick’s place, just like that.
This time she’s staying with him, and she can’t wait. She’s staying for, like, four months this time, should nothing go wrong (she crosses her fingers hopefully in her lap), and that’s so much time to terrorise him with. Enough time to get inventive.
“D’you want something for lunch? I could really go for a sandwich right now,” Nick offers from the doorway as Maya unloads her belongings onto his folded up sofa-bed. Gumshoe left almost immediately, apparently having plans with Maggey, but he promised to see her in a few days. She thinks that she’ll probably see him sooner, with their luck for ending up at crime scenes.
Nick mainly lives at the office, she knows, so his place is sparse - but there’s a not-brand-specific tokusatsu novelty clock on the wall that she’d bought him from a thrift store, and a pile of German language books in the corner, and the lingering smell of burnt bacon. It’s as close to home as anything could be.
Nick didn’t have any work to do today, so the atmosphere around them is calm, but he has a slight impatient lilt to his voice anyway. “You don’t have to come with, I can grab you something.”
Maya’s eyes stay fixed on her bag, pouting slightly. Her magazine somehow got destroyed in there during the journey. One of the best pages in it is all ripped up. She was gonna scrapbook with that. “Why can’t we just make something here? You have food in, I saw it all earlier.”
He doesn’t even blink at her admittance to snooping around in his kitchen. “Well yeah, we could, but buying out is nicer, right? There’s that one place you showed me after our last trial, with the massive menu –”
She snaps her head up to narrow her eyes at him. “You wanna go there?”
He blinks down at her. “Yeah? It’s good.”
“There’s another sandwich place, like, right ‘round the corner.”
He barely falters, but she still catches it - he’s doing the thing he does in court, where he talks before he can think about what he’s saying. “It’s nicer there, and I have a rewards card.”
“You go there often enough to use a rewards card?” He just nods, looking stubborn about not explaining himself. She sits, and her pile of clothes on the couch behind her dips and falls against her back. “Hey, isn’t that place super close to the prosecutor's office? That’s gotta be, like. Trespassing on their land. Or something.” This gets a reaction out of him - his mouth smooths out into a line that is extremely telling in how neutral it is, and the slightest blush rises in his cheeks. Maya laughs, clear and boisterous, falling back slightly with the force of it. “Oh my God are you going on lunch dates with Edgeworth? You lied to me!”
“I didn’t!” Nick all but growls, pointing a finger at her like she’s the one with a secret gay love affair going on. “It’s only been for the last week. And they’re not dates , he still hasn’t even called me his friend. No F word in sight.”
“I’ve been back for five minutes, and you already wanna ditch me to see your mean boyfriend!”
He looks like his foot got caught in a bear trap. She can see him sweating. “Stop calling him - I’m not gonna ditch you, idiot, I’ll be right back. Edgeworth might not even bethere.”
Maya snickers childishly behind her hand. “Oh man, you’re a mess.” Stealthily, her other hand is slipping money from her purse to her pocket, and she starts to stand. The clothes that’d been leaning on her back fall over, but she’ll put those away in a minute.
“Like you’re any better,” he grumbles, which is just uncalled for. “I’m gonna go there, and you’re not gonna make fun of me for it because I’m gonna get you your favorite and won’t even make you pay me back. Deal?”
Slipping by him, she moves past the coat rack, putting $5 in his jacket pocket before he can turn around. “Sure thing, you strange, strange man. Can I use your shower while you’re gone? I stink.” It’s true - her hair is a greasy mess, and she’s wearing one of her ratty old still-kinda-purple t-shirts with bleach stains on it, and she really needs to clean up before she sees anyone who she thinks might actually care how she looks. Or anyone that she hopes cares.
Nick is already shrugging the jacket on when she asks, shooting her a smile. “Sure, of course. You bought your soaps?”
“Yeah, I did. I will die before I use yours.”
Nick opens his mouth, before closing it again.
“Y’know, I was gonna try and work that into another snappy joke about you killing someone, but I couldn’t make it work in time. I need to see you more often, I’m getting rusty.”
She huffs. “You need to see me more often because youlove me. Now go get my lunch already.”
He heaves a sigh, turning the doorknob and stepping out of the apartment. “Alright, bossy. See you in a – oh, hi, Franziska.”
Franziska?
Maya’s eyes widen, because yeah, that’s Franziska, revealed by the open doorway. She seems - not out of breath or anything like that, because we’re talking about a Von Karma here, but definitely a bit put out, the slightest pink hue to her usually paper-white face. She’s wearing her work clothes, all large shoulders and teal diamonds and tailored pants, which is nice because they really suit her, and Maya hasn’t seen her wearing them in ages. She’s standing as far from the door as she can without backing against the wall behind her, and her stance is half turned away, like she’d been standing there for a while thinking about leaving. Instead of looking at Maya, she’s glaring at Phoenix, hand flexing slightly at her hip. She looks like she’s had her hair cut recently. She looks really, really good, honestly, and now Maya’s baggy pants and old t-shirt feel like they’re burning her, like the bleach stains are suddenly fresh.
She hasn’t washed her hair in, like, four days.
“Phoenix Wright,” Franziska says, looking at him like he’s some shit she stepped in. But it’s almost affectionate? Maya has no idea how she does that. “You are far too casual with me. I’m not here for you.”
He smiles at her incredulously, which he seems to do most of the time the Von Karma siblings are around. “This is my apartment?”
“That hardly matters. I was on the phone with Detective Gumshoe, and he informed me that you’d just met with –”, Franziska cuts herself off, turning slightly to look past Nick’s shoulder and - ah. Her entire face changes. “Maya Fey.” She says it with a slight sigh, her mouth turning up into a tiny smile as she does, and the hard line of her shoulders seems to soften a bit. Her gaze flickers around Maya’s face for a second, seemingly taking her in, before steadying again.
This is… a lot of eye contact. Which, as always, is fine. It’s cool.
“Hi, Fran! Sorry, I was gonna text you, but it’s been kinda hectic, and I was just caught up with unpacking, you know how it is,” Maya manages to choke out, looking away to gesture towards Nick, who’s grinning at her like the irredeemable human being he truly is. “And Nick was just coming back from a sandwich run, right, Nick?”
“He is leaving,” Fran points out unhelpfully. “He is also empty-handed.”
“Yeah,” Maya says, sounding strangled. “Isn’t that strange.”
Franziska turns back to Nick, and says with utmost authority, “You do not have to buy Maya’s lunch, I will handle it. Please leave.”
“That - I –” He seems completely at a loss, and Maya sympathizes. “Again, this is my apartment.”
“It is also, temporarily, Maya’s, and I wish to spend time with her,” which makes Maya go into cardiac arrest, or maybe this is just straight up death, “so I am telling you to leave. Unless - of course, unless Maya Fey objects.”
While Franziska doesn’t turn to her as she says it, her eyes still flicker cautiously in her direction, and Maya can feel her refusal pouring out before she can even think about it. “No, no, I’m not objecting, I just - uh. Are you cool with that, Nick? If we take over your living space for a bit?”
Nick sways slightly. He looks overwhelmed, but not mad, and kinda like he wants to laugh but he knows he’ll be killed if he does. Most of the amusement is being directed at Maya, which makes her shoulders hike up. She’ll chew him out for that later. “Uh, sure. I guess. I’ll find someone to hang out with. Maybe Larry’ll be free.”
Larry is not, in fact, free, but Nick doesn’t seem to mind, instead electing to go to the office and do some paperwork. Maya doesn’t believe for one second that he actually goes there and does that, but she doesn’t really want to know what Nick does with all of his spare time, so she decides not to poke. Either way, he leaves, and Franziska’s movements seem almost calculated as she lowers herself onto one of Nick’s old chairs. The wood creaks slightly under her weight, and she watches Maya close the front door behind her so intently you’d think she was submitting it as evidence.
“Uh. So. You want anything? Coffee? I think Nick has coffee, he drinks almost as much of the stuff as you do. Can’t promise it’s any good, though, you know how cheap he is.”
When she looks back, still waiting for an answer, she sees Fran frowning at her. It’s a frustrated little thing, but not frustrated with Maya, necessarily, and it’s always comforting to know she can tell the difference. “You’re always hosting for me. I feel like it should be my duty, next time.”
It’s not what Maya was expecting, and she lets out another nervous little noise - a cross between a giggle and a snort, which probably isn’t very attractive at all. There’s nothing attractive about her right now, she thinks glumly. “That’s super sweet, but I really don’t mind. I like making sure you’re comfortable.”
Ok, that was a bit much. Slip of the tongue. She can recover.
“I actually was just about to shower when you showed up, because - I mean, look at me, y’know?” Maya powers on before the other woman can get a word in, gesturing to her clothes and wild hair. “I’m a mess. Early trains can really fuck you up. So, uh, there’s coffee in the pot, and the remotes on the table if you wanna watch anything. I’ll try to be quick, okay?”
Warily, Franziska nods, looking awkward but determined. “Take as much time as you need. And I think you look - fine, Maya Fe - Maya.”
Maya stares, nods, stares, and ducks into the bathroom, closing the door behind her a bit too fast because what?
Looking at herself in the mirror, she thinks no, she does not look fine. She looks like shit, to be frank - not in a low self-esteem way, but a ‘really actually looking rough’ way. It’s nothing a quick shower and change of clothes won’t fix, but the principle stands.
Fine. Fine . Why would she say that?
Looping fine, fine, fine in her mind over and over, Maya’s still a bit unsteady a short while later, rubbing at her hair with a towel and dressed in a fresh set of robes, but the panic has faded and given way to some guilt over how weird she’s being. It’s not supposed to be that awkward between her and Fran. She’s Maya’s best friend , and that’s how Maya reacts when she sees her for the first time in months? What a dick move. If Nick’s to be believed, which he usually is, Franziska has missed her a lot, and now Maya must be ruining the reunion by making her uncomfortable. She doesn’t know what’s happening here, but she needs to put an end to it immediately.
(Maya knows what’s happening here - has known for a long time. But that’s the thing - she’s known for a long time. She’s had all the time in the world to either get used to it or get over it, and she thought she’d done the first one ages ago. So what gives?)
Anyway. It shouldn’t be like this, so it won’t be anymore. She’ll make sure of it.
When she pads into the living room, Franziska is exactly where she left her.
“You – Fran,” she starts, her grin audible. The towel falls a little in her loose grip. “Did you not move this whole time?”
Franziska startles slightly, like Maya snuck up on her, and when she turns to look back at her - yup, she’s still sitting with one leg over the other, her bag held tightly on her lap, posture rigid against the backrest. She looks like a painting, the kind you’d see taking up an entire wall in a gallery, with a big crowd in front of it all talking about things like composition and gesture. Proper and polite and awkward and beautiful. Exactly as she was before.
Maya lets the other woman take a moment to compose herself, and fights the urge to fidget when she walks across the room towards the couch and can feel herself being watched. Fran still looks a bit taken aback, glancing at Maya’s towel to Maya’s face and back again. “I didn’t feel the need to. Your hair is… very long, when it’s wet. And you seem much shorter. With your hair down.”
“Do I?” It honestly hadn’t occurred to her before. She waves a hand, sitting down and trying not to cringe when she realizes her stuff is still everywhere . Hopefully Fran doesn’t think she always lives like this. “I guess so, huh? It’s the bun. Probably look shorter without the sandals, too. Ah well, I don’t care, everyone knows I’m short. I’m not breaking anyone’s heart.”
Franziska mumbles something, which makes Maya tilt her head curiously, going for a cute puppy vibe. “What was that?”
“It - um. Ah.” Franziska balls her fists in her lap, glaring down at them for a moment, before bracing her shoulders and raising her head again, making unfaltering eye contact. On anyone else the movements would look exaggerated, but it’s entirely believable that Franziska just started and ended an entire trial in her head. “I said, that your height is c - cute. In my opinion, you are cute.”
Maya feels her face go completely blank, reflexively. Embarrassment crawls up her throat, and she laughs again, and she knows it sounds fake, because itis . “Aw, Fran! I think you’re cute too! You’re, like, suuuper tall. I bet we look really funny whenever we stand next to each other.”
Franziska is making it so hard for her to get things back to normal.
Franziska nods. “Yes, I’ve been told as much. Miles Edgeworth has said we make a very good pair.”
Maya doesn’t choke on her own spit, but it’s a near thing. “Hey, if we’re just hanging out, do you wanna watch something on TV?” she tries, sounding almost manic. “Have I forced you to watch Steel Samurai yet, or did Edgeworth beat me to it? I called dibs but your brother is, no offense, really mean and probably doesn’t honor the dibs system, so I have no way of knowing.”
There’s the scraping of a chair and the sound of brisk footsteps as Maya grabs the remote and starts furiously pulling up the first episode, and she tenses her neck to stop herself from turning around. Even when Franziska isn’t wearing her heels, she still somehow manages to make her steps sound intimidating. Maya’s distraction techniques are for naught, because before she can press play, a pair of elegant gloved hands reach down and gently pluck the remote from Maya’s grip, placing it back on the table. They slot into the emptied space in Maya’s palm. The couch dips next to her, and while Maya refuses to meet Franziska’s eyes, she does manage to mumble out, “You’re sitting on my socks.”
“I do not care right now.”
Words are just tumbling out now, completely unbidden. “I lied a second ago, by the way. I don’t think you’re cute. You have cute moments, but you’re more cool. And hot, in a scary way.”
“... Thank you,” Franziska says, softly, and Maya imagines she’s probably blushing. She’s rubbing little circles into Maya’s hands with her thumbs, which is so strangely calming that Maya immediately feels less like she’s standing on a cliff's edge. Or maybe she’s still there, but there’s a cloud right there, ready to catch her. “Maya.”
“... Fey.”
Franziska shakes her head. “Just Maya, if that is alright.”
Well. Okay. See. The thing about Fran being her best friend is that she’s not, really. She never has been.
For all of her ‘he’s more like a brother’ justifications, that title has kinda been reserved for Nick ever since she met him. He’s helped her in unimaginable ways, a ridiculous amount of times, and he would do it a million more if she asked. They are like siblings, that’s true, but they’re siblings by choice, which is it’s own special thing. They’re never gonna be without each other, glued forever in a way that neither of them mind. She thinks about herself being happy and comfortable here in Nick’s living space, and it feels right in the way that a home-cooked meal does, like going to your favorite hideout as a kid after school and feeling like you belong there. It’s homely. It’s family without being family.
She thinks about herself being happy and comfortable in Franziska’s - mansion, or whatever other extravagant structure Franziska lives in - and it’s something else entirely. It makes her think about sharing a bed, and making dinner together without any spice because Franziska has a low tolerance for it, and kisses that taste like branded coffee that Maya can’t afford and doesn’t even like. It makes her feel like her heart is splintering and crying, which is something she didn’t even know hearts could do.
For months she’s been in a constant battle with herself over her place and importance in Franziska’s life, and it sucked . She doesn’t feel that with anyone else. With everyone else, she knows she can make herself important if she puts the work in. She can worm her way into anybody’s heart eventually, because she’s Maya Fey , and she’s fucking delightful. That isn’t an issue for her.
The difference with Franziska is that she doesn’t want to make herself into anything. She wants to show herself, open her arms to reveal all the cracks in the road and potholes, and not worry about any of it. Without hiding her uncontrollable waves of grief, and the panic that still swells up whenever she sees a holding cell, and that one weird mark on her hip that looks a bit like a bird, she wants to go to Franziska and to have her take all these things one by one, with a smile, and hold onto them like they’re important. Maya wants to be seen, and she wants to be taken as she is.
Maybe that’s selfish, but if Fran’s gonna go around claiming to be perfect all the time, someone has to balance her out, right?
Franziska says, “I would like to - tell you something. Something that’s important to me.”
This makes Maya start a little, because shit, she’s doing it again, isn’t she? Getting all in her head and thinking about herself, forgetting about Fran’s feelings. She looks up, and the extreme fondness in Fran’s expression only makes her freeze for less than a second, which she’s very proud of. “What? Yeah, of course. You can tell me anything.”
Fran laughs a little - quietly, reserved and without much humor, but it’s kind and it feels like a big deal. “I know I can. You’ve reminded me many times.”
Always one to fall back on old habits, Maya pouts, the urge to joke coming back to her in full force. “We’re having a moment and you ruin it by calling me a nag. Typical.”
And - somehow, Fran lifts one of her hands like she’s about to cradle Maya’s face , but the movement cancels halfway through, and it falls against Maya’s arm instead. “What do you mean by that? I - I know, obviously, but would like you to confirm what you mean by a ‘moment’,” she says in a way that is so her it’s almost comical, but the complete lack of sarcasm in her voice makes Maya feel like she’s being put through a wood chipper. Her friend is so genuine, under all those layers of hurt and trauma and suppressed emotion. Maya would never offer her pity because she knows that’s not what she wants, but she wants to wrap her up and shower her with all the love Franziska hasn’t found elsewhere, because that’s what she deserves.
The thumb continues it’s small, soothing circles on her bicep this time, and the way that Franziska looks into her eyes makes her feel like her brain has been turned inside out and spread across the table. Suddenly, her phone feels heavy against her leg, and she remembers the words ‘You make me feel less lonely, too. You are extremely important to me. Sleep well.’ This time, she believes it.
She’s back in that shitty apartment, and Franziska is sitting at the even shittier table, asking ‘Is that what’s upsetting you, that I didn’t tell you? Or is there something else?’, and this time, she actually hears it.
Instead of explaining, she says, “What were you going to tell me? Is it the thing from before?”
Franziska nods.
“Can you take off your gloves?”, she blurts out, face flushing again, because that’ssuch a weird thing to say right now, but Franziska just nods again, and takes them off before returning her hands to where they’d been before.
Like it’s normal.
Maya thinks she knows what Franziska wants to tell her.
“What I wanted to tell you is something that… involves you, somewhat. Or involves you a large amount, depending on your - your response.”
“My response,” she says softly, and this time she’s the one to raise her hand, but she doesn’t abort the motion in the same way. Franziska’s cheek is soft against the pads of her fingers, and she draws soft circles around the mark under her eye, just in case she doesn’t get another chance after all this. “Yeah, okay, that makes sense. But it’ll matter to me anyway, like I said. Important to you, important to me.”
“Exactly. Important. You’re important to me.” Franziska exhales, looking seconds away from breaking. “Yes. That’s – I wanted to tell you that.”
“That I’m important to you?” Maya laughs, careful not to be too loud, not wanting to be the thing that breaks her. “I already knew that. You’re important to me too.”
There’s a short moment where Franziska shakes her head, opens her mouth, then scowls in a way that should not be as endearing as it is. “Yes, but I – Ghh. It’s different. You are - we are very close. Right now.”
Maya nods. “We are. Do you want me to move?”
Fran shakes her head ‘no’, so she stays where she is, letting the two of them breathe. They stay like that for a minute or two, Maya looking Franziska in the face and Franziska looking intently at the beads around Maya’s neck, turning her words over in her head. It’s fascinating, looking into Franziska’s eyes and seeing the wheels turning. Maya imagines that she would look like this in court, too, if you could get close enough to see. She then imagines herself fence-jumping over the defense desk and crowding up to the prosecutor mid-trial, and suppresses a laugh.
Maya doesn’t understand how anyone could call Franziska boring; she can make Maya laugh without even doing anything.
Franziska exhales, and Maya braces herself for whatever it is she wants to say. She’s so focused on wordsthat when a degloved hand reaches up to sit over her own, it gets an honest-to-God gasp out of her. Franziska says “Maya,” like it’s all she wants to say for the rest of her life, but then she keeps going with everything else anyway. “You are very important to me. I have… the utmost respect for you. You are frivolous, and always far too loud. You are strong for what you have been through, although you should not have to be. I think you’re beautiful.” Her other hand drifts up to play with a strand of Maya’s wet hair, but she never looks away from Maya’s face, like she doesn’t even realize she’s doing it. “You love people very freely, and the love you show me is… far too much for me to - to not, reciprocate, in some way. Please allow me to reciprocate.”
It’s too short to be a grand romantic speech, and it was a bit insulting in the middle, and the closing statement is clunky enough to maybe be funny in any other circumstance. Maya wants each word of it tattooed onto the inside of her eyelids.
She’d never imagined Franziska saying these things to her, and jeez they really are close huh, so Maya kinda thinks this might be a daydream, but she still has the presence of mind to say, “That’s not how this works. You don’t owe me.”
“I know I don’t. I don’t owe anything to anyone. But this is what I want to do. And I know, decisively, that you deserve it.”
Fran sounds so sure of herself, and Maya gets this weird shaky feeling in her chest, like someones playing the xylophone on her ribs. She nods, and stares for a long time, with what she’s sure is a dopey wide-eyed look on her face. She nods again. Franziska laughs - a real laugh this time - and Maya thinks, oh, that’s it. That’s what she was looking for.
“Hey,” Maya says eventually, allowing her hand to travel a bit more until it brushes against Franziska’s mouth. It’s distracting, but Fran doesn’t stop her, so she does it again. A third time. “Do you think I was jealous, when we talked about your first relationship? I’m –” She clears her throat. “I’m realizing a lot of things very quickly, it’s kinda overwhelming. I think I was.”
“I thought you… might have been,” Franziska says, looking like she doesn’t want to be saying it, which Maya appreciates. Something passes across her expression afterwards, like she’s debating in her mind again, unsure and calculating one moment and then present and determined the next. It makes Maya’s heart stir. “You… cannot be my first relationship. But if you - if you want to, that is, you could. Be my second.”
Maya blinks.
A grin slowly breaks out across her face, wide enough to hurt . “Oh, that sucked."
Franziska looks at her for a second, seemingly shocked at how much that response wasn’t a response at all. She huffs, and ducks her head into Maya’s chest, her hands falling to grip Maya’s shoulders. When Maya laughs, it’s loud and it shakes her whole body, jostling Franziska with it. They must look so stupid - Maya dissolving into giggles, hair shower-damp and clothes crinkled into a mess, with a world-renowned prosecutor in full court gear curled into her chest, blushing to the tips of her ears. It’s stupid, and silly, and exactly what she needs.
“Be my second ,” Maya chokes out, giggles slowly dialing down but definitely not finished. “Oh my God. Take me to dinner first, at least –”
“Maya Fey!” Franziska exclaims, shooting upwards into a trained posture and somehow blushing even more. “You know that – I wasn’t – We have had dinner together many times!” Immediately realizing her mistake, she puts her face in her hands. “That is not – you know what I meant!”
“Oh, we’re back on second name basis, huh?” Maya grins, practically wiping a cartoon tear from her eye, her giggles tapering out. “I’m not sure if we can go on any more dinner dates if you’re using my full name the whole time. That’s just a business meeting.”
“You –”, Franziska starts, suddenly falling back into seriousness, looking down at her hands. They’re twitching like she wants to put the gloves back on. Maya silently passes them to her, saying ‘I know I asked, but you can change your mind. It’s okay. I want you to be comfortable’. She slips them back on, and her voice is vulnerable when she continues - almost small, if Franziska was capable of that. “You would like to go on dates, then? With me.”
“Yes. You have no idea – yeah, of course, I do, Fran,” Maya says, immediately surging forward and putting a hand to Franziska’s elbow, as if steadying her. “Do you seriously have any idea how great you are? I would love a date with you.” It feels a bit too revealing, which makes her worry, but she adds anyway, “It’s gonna be the only thing I want to do from now on.”
She needn’t have worried. Franziska looks the happiest Maya’s ever seen her, and she carefully takes Maya by the waist, lowering them until they're sideways holding each other on the couch. Very, very quickly, Maya is learning that Franziska’s impulsiveness at work is not exclusive to her work. When she’s confident about something, she goes for full confidence - all or nothing. Maya is instantly adjusting to it, poking at the other woman’s face playfully. She also presses a light kiss to her nose, because she can, and she times the strokes of her thumb against Franziska’s side to the ticks of the clock on the wall. Anything more than that would short circuit her, right now, but this is comfortable. Happy.
It’s sickeningly sweet, and with the way Fran is smiling at her, it’s probably similar to how flowers feel in sunlight.
Franziska beams, trying to smooth out the bow on her chest, even though they’re laying sideways. “I feel the same way,” she says, and Maya isn’t sure if she’s responding to the date thing or if she’s reading her mind.
But it’s that phrase - that ‘I feel the same way’ - that really strikes the chord in her.
Because Maya isn’t unloved, she knows she isn’t. She’s always had someone - the people of Kurain, Mia, Pearl, Nick. People that choose her, and then go to sleep and wake up the next morning and choose her again. She can’t be lonely, or incomplete or anything silly like that, when there’s love in every corner of her life. But this is a type of love that she hasn’t felt before, and maybe wasn’t sure she ever would. This is something all encompassing, something that grips her heart and squeezes and squeezes, massaging out a knot, putting weight on a muscle she didn’t notice was aching for it.
Maya lives in people, not rooms. Franziska is opening the door for her, giving her the spare key, and making space for her shoes on the rack. There’s nothing to question anymore. Maya didn’t even realize she was asking the question that’s being answered right now.
She’s in LA, and she’s in Kurain, too. And she’s here, with Franziska’s hands on her, sideways on her-slash-Nick’s couch, her damp hair wetting the armrest. She hums and ducks her head against Fran’s shoulder, smelling the expensive perfume and sweat and foundation on her neck. It’s a weird combination of smells, they don’t really fit, but it’s fine. It’s more than fine. It’s something she can get used to.