Memory 01: Fools Rush In
“Pal, I really gotta talk to you about something.”
Phoenix and another man—a scruffy, hard-looking customer—looked up from the poker table. They were standing, leaning on their hands and agreeing on the stakes of a game. The man looked Gumshoe up and down impatiently, chewing on the end of a cigar. Gumshoe knew he looked desperate and ragged, but ‘ragged’ without the deliberate flair that would make him look elegantly ragged. He was an emotional wreck, an interference with the ambiance of the game.
Everybody breathed out steam. It was cold; hard-packed frost was caked on the floor and the bar along the side of the wall. Gumshoe envied Wright his stupid knit cap—for the life of him he still didn’t know what “PaPa” meant—as his own ears were already burning-numb. He wondered how the hell Wright could wear sandals down here, even if he did wear socks. His own toes were as cold as his ears, and he was wearing leather shoes, patched as they were with duct tape.
“Gumshoe…” Phoenix said quietly. His eyebrows furrowed in concern. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s Maggey, I—I screwed up real bad, pal. I—” He glanced at the other man, whose eyes were narrowing impatiently. “—I really need to talk you to private.”
“He’s a cop?” the man snarled at Phoenix.
“No, his last name is just ‘Gumshoe’. Let me handle this.”
Phoenix put his arm around Gumshoe and led the taller man up the stairs to a main bar and turned into a side room. It was warmer up here, thankfully, devoid of ice, but still cool enough for breath to steam. Phoenix bid him wait a moment and brought him a full bottle of the club’s house wine. Gumshoe took it numbly, not even glancing at the label, and held it out as Phoenix jammed a corkscrew into the cork and twisted it out.
“She’s pregnant—” Gumshoe said dumbly. “I don’t know what to do—”
“Five minutes won’t make a difference at this point.” Phoenix closed his Swiss Army knife and put it the pocket of his jeans. “Let me handle this guy, and then we can talk.”
“F-five minutes, pal?”
“He’s a sucker. Easy as hell to read.” Phoenix smiled wanly, and Gumshoe noted how many lines had been etched around Phoenix’s eyes in the past few years since his disbarment, how much the very quality of his skin had lost a great deal of its youth. “Just wait here and have a drink, okay? I’ll be right back.”
Gumshoe nodded, and Phoenix left. He looked down at the bottle in his hands, rotating it slowly to read the label. Vintage, it said, a house wine from 2001. Gumshoe was usually a beer and hard whiskey man, more by financial restriction than by choice, so this meant nothing to him. He shrugged and took a deep swig from the bottle. It burnt going down, filling his mouth with the familiar volatile warmth of alcohol, and something in the taste reminded him of deep velvet. He sighed heavily and sat back in the wooden chair, waiting for the familiar warm numbness to flood his limbs, and took another deep drink. The bottle was empty by the time Phoenix returned.
“Good God, man,” Phoenix said, taking the bottle from Gumshoe’s clumsy fingers. “You do realize this is stronger than it tastes, right?”
“I screwed up real bad, pal,” Gumshoe muttered.
“Yes, you told me.” Phoenix set the bottle next to him as he sat on the wooden ottoman, staring into Gumshoe’s eyes carefully. “So, Maggey’s pregnant, huh?”
“I—I shoulda used a condom, but she said she was on birth control, and—”
“The pill?”
“No, this… new herbal stuff, Chinese. Doesn’t mess up her hormones or nothing. Got it in Chinatown; said it’s all natural; she wanted to try something new since she’d heard that the pill can cause cancer…” He hiccupped, and Phoenix sighed heavily and shook his head, pressing between his eyes with his forefinger and thumb.
“Gumshoe...”
“I don’t know what to do.” He buried his head in his hands. “I don’t get paid nothing, pal. You know that. I can hardly feed myself right. I got bad hours. I can’t support a kid and a wife.”
“Well, there is the alternative…”
Gumshoe looked up angrily. “I ain’t leavin’ her, never!”
“That’s not what I meant.” Phoenix sighed, patting Gumshoe’s shaking shoulder. He carefully put his words into order. “…Planned Parenthood has cheap rates for… termination. Especially if you’re low income. If you’re not ready to support a kid…”
Gumshoe hiccupped and shook his head violently. Phoenix sighed again and rubbed his back, allowing him ample time to put his words in order. The ‘new waitress’, (who Phoenix knew damn well had been ‘new’ there multiple times under different aliases, but he was sitting on his knowledge for the time being), Anya—or whatever-the-hell Russian name she had taken this time around—poked her head in asking in broken English if they needed any help; Phoenix shook his head and asked for some warm borsht for their visitor. And more wine.
“…I can’t…” Gumshoe said, finally, after Anya had shut the door. “I can’t, I can’t…”
“I’m afraid that’s Maggey’s decision now,” Phoenix said quietly. “The baby is growing in her body.”
“I mean, I thought about it; I ain’t stupid, but I can’t… I can’t…”
He buried his head in his hands, clutching his hair between his fingers. He took in a sharp breath, trying to curb a sob. He heard Phoenix sigh, heard him walk across the room and return. Phoenix pressed a tissue box into Gumshoe’s hands; he pulled the top tissue out and blew his nose loudly.
“…how far along is she?”
Gumshoe wiped his nose with the damp tissue and threw it on the ground by his feet. He was staring at the concrete floor. “…two months, somethin’ like that.”
“So abortion is still a legal option right now.”
Gumshoe did not look up. Phoenix scratched his shoulderblades.
“Look…” Phoenix sighed. “I know you don’t want to think about this, but for her good, you guys have to talk about it if you’re going to even consider it. The longer you wait, the harder it is for everybody. The harder it is on Maggey’s body.”
Light spilled into the dark room. Phoenix looked up; Anya was edging the door open with her rear, balancing two bowls of borsht in her thick mittens. He mumbled a quiet thank you as she set them on the coffee table.
“Everything is alright, da?”
“Everything’s fine, Anya. Thanks.”
“You know, you have customers, they want to play you, da?”
“I know, Anya. I’ll take care of it in a moment.”
There was a harsh flash that made Gumshoe yelp in surprise and look up; Anya lowered her camera, smiling shyly.
“I take picture of friends helping friends, da?”
“Anya, this isn’t a good time.”
Anya smiled shyly and bowed, leaving. Phoenix sighed heavily and took one of the bowls, shoving it into Gumshoe’s clumsy hands.
“Eat, if you’re going to. We can’t stay here.”
“Why not?”
“Because I absolutely do not trust her and she’s collecting evidence of you consorting with a defense attorney who was disbarred because of forgery, and you need that job to support your baby.”
“I don’t believe a word of it, pal!” Gumshoe sat upright suddenly, almost knocking his bowl off his legs. Phoenix caught it and slid it back onto the detective’s thighs. “And neither does Mr. Edgeworth, and we haven’t given up on it yet!”
Phoenix smiled wanly. “That’s very kind, but your boss might not feel the same way.”
“I’ll never forget… what you did for Maggey, pal.”
Phoenix waved his hand dismissively. “I was happy to. Eat, eat.” He picked up his own bowl and started eating. Gumshoe stared at the spoon in his hand numbly. “Speaking of Miss Byrde, where is she right now?”
“Oh she—I think she needed to talk to another woman, you know, and she went to Kurain to talk to Maya about all this.” He hesitated for a moment. “That… is where she is right now, right?”
“Oh, yeah. More training. It isn’t a long train ride.” Phoenix nudged Gumshoe’s hand. “Eat. We can talk later, but we need to go somewhere private.”
---------------------------------
“You didn’t use protection?” Maya half-yelled.
“I did.” Maggey was hugging her knees, curled up against the wall in Kurain’s antechamber. Maya was half-ready to slap her; only Maggey’s abject confusion stayed her hand. Tears were already running down her cheeks. “I used these herbs from Chinatown; they balance your body’s hormones without synthetics so you don’t get pregnant, and—”
“That stuff is bullshit!”
“I—I thought you guys’d believe in that stuff here.”
“I believe in what works, and that crap doesn’t. And you didn’t use a condom?”
Maggey shook her head vigorously, sobbing a little. “It… I didn’t think we needed to, and it’s not as… close… and we were already going and it was so nice and I didn’t want to stop… We’d never had to use condoms before…”
“Isn’t that because you used to be on a real pill?”
Maggey’s sobbing escalated. Maya sighed and slid down the wall next to Maggey, hugging her as she sobbed. It was three in the morning; Maya had been shocked when Maggey had come knocking on the temple doors, still dressed in her police uniform (apparently, Maya had confirmed, she had re-joined the force) and with raw eyes. She had the pregnancy test confirmed at the doctor’s office that afternoon; she was two months pregnant, and Gumshoe was the father. Maggey was vehement on the latter point. Maya knew Maggey too well to push it further, and there was no reason to doubt she was telling the truth.
“How’s the baby?”
Maggey gasped in shock and looked up. Pearl was standing above them in her sleep clothes. Maggey curled her legs tighter and hugged her still-flat abdomen.
“How did you know?”
“I feel the life you’re carrying in you. It’s about two months along, right?”
Maggey nodded numbly. Pearl sat down cross-legged in front of Maya and Maggey, then brought her crossed knees up and hugged them. Maya still could not believe how much Pearl was growing; she was cresting puberty, gaining curves, and a stunning amount of insight to complement her inherent abilities.
“I don’t…” Maggey sniffed wetly. “I don’t know what to do. The doctor said if I want to… terminate it… I have to decide fast. And nobody at the office knows…”
“The father does?”
“Yes, of course. I told him… this evening.” She sniffed wetly and wiped her nose on the back of her hand. “He… doesn’t know what to do either. And I know he’s really worried about me.”
“Does he know you’re here?”
Maggey nodded. Pearl adjusted her legs and moved forward, placing her hand on Maggey’s stomach. Maggey took in a sharp breath.
“…it’s Detective Gumshoe, isn’t it?”
Maggey nodded. Pearl kept her hand on her abdomen a little longer, and then drew back.
“He loves you very much. More than anything in the world. And he’s very worried about you.”
Maggey smiled and wiped her eyes, blushing slightly, recalling memories of flesh and intimacy and gazes full of love, and drew back into herself as though trying to draw warmth from her memories. “Mm. I know.” She closed her eyes and smirked, suddenly, at some memory, one so deeply-ingrained and sensory Maya had trouble deciphering it. “I can’t believe I ever wondered if he was gay for Mr. Edgeworth.”
In spite of herself, Maya started giggling loudly. “I can’t believe we ever wondered if Mr. Edgeworth was straight.”
“Oh my God, I know.” Maggey giggled as well, wiping her eyes again. “But Rick really likes women. Like, he has this thing for breasts that borders on some sort of weird mother-complex.”
“You mean he—?”
Maggey cupped her breasts in her hands and pretended to bury her nose between them, making licking noises. Maya shrieked with laughter before clapping her hand over her mouth, muffling herself. Pearl was giggling madly and fell over onto her side.
“Oh my God, he motorboats you?”
“Pearl!” Maya smacked her on the thigh. “How do you even know what that is?”
“I’m twelve!”
“Exactly my point!” It’s amazing how much she picks up when she goes wandering off on her own for days. “And that’s not motorboating, anyway. Motorboating is when you vibrate with your lips and—”
Pearl started blowing raspberries, and Maya shrieked again and fell onto her side, clapping her hands over her mouth. Maggey turned bright red and shook her head vigorously, laughing loudly.
“No, no, no, no, no; oh my God, no…”
“Pearl! You little ho!”
“Did you just seriously call me a ‘ho’?”
“Yes!”
“I don’t know,” Maggey said between giggles, “I always think of little Pearls as being nine.”
Pearl drew herself up and cupped her very well-developing breasts proudly. “Oh, really? I’ve already got bigger breasts than Mystic Maya, even if that isn’t saying much.”
“Oh my God, shut up. And you’re not wearing a bra right now.”
“How can you tell?”
“I just can.”
Maggey was still giggling. Maya was relieved to see her smile; so many of the lines she had seen ghosting her face were smoothing away.
“Hey, at least Gumshoe can make you a lot of food, so you’re not, like, eating the couch. Does he still make those awesome wieners?”
“Oh, speaking of which—” Pearl said, “—can anybody actually call him Dick without, like, bursting out laughing? I didn’t think anybody could actually have that nickname anymore.”
Maggey giggled again and shook her head. “No. He hates that. I call him Rick, but I’ve never heard anybody else call him by his first name, ever.”
“Cause I could think of a ton of jokes,” said Maya. She smirked and leaned in closer toward the circle the girls were forming. “Does he have a big…?”
Maggey nodded, her smirk cracking into a sly grin. “And what he lacks in skill and experience, he makes up for with enthusiasm.”
Maya cracked up again and clapped her hand over her mouth. “Oh my God…”
“But doesn’t that hurt? I mean, if he’s unskilled and big and going at it like a jackhammer—”
“Pearl!” Maya shrieked.
“I didn’t say I was unskilled,” Maggey said slyly. “He may be, but I had a lot of boyfriends in high school. I’m used to handling unskilled oversexed men.”
“Maggey!” Maya gasped through laughter.
“I think Nick would have a heart attack if he saw this side of you.”
“Not anymore, no,” Maggey hugged her knees to her. “I want love now, not just fun. I’ve grown out of that.”
“But I’d never picture you…”
“People always assume sweet girls don’t like to have fun. It’s kind of stupid. Women are sexual creatures too. I don’t like the stereotype that only selfish or bad women like to sleep around. It’s… a what? Double-standard?”
“It’s always the quiet ones,” said Pearl.
“Yeah, I don’t like that either,” said Maya.
“Well, were you a ‘bad girl’ too, Maya?”
“Growing up here? No.” Maya hugged her knees. “Do you know how many men there are in Kurain? Like, two.”
“So, it’s not like a prison movie where you all turn lesbo on each other and experiment?”
Maya shrieked with laughter again and clutched her sides. “Yeah, totally. It’s nonstop lesbian action up here.”
“We use the magatama as strap-ons and the beads as ben-wa balls.”
“Pearl!”
Pearl smiled devilishly and hugged her knees tighter. “What? You started it.”
“And you took it too far!”
Maggey was laughing so hard she was having trouble breathing. Maya sat up, glad to see that Maggey was smiling again. She rubbed Maggey’s back.
“Oh, we’re getting distracted. I’m sorry.”
“No, no, it’s fine.” Maggey pulled out another tissue and wiped her eyes. “I really, really need to laugh right now.”
“Does sex feel good?”
Maggey and Maya looked up at Pearl, Maya half-shocked, Maggey sniffing and wiping her nose.
“What, hon? Is that a serious question?”
“Well, I’m curious, of course,” Pearl said, crossing her legs seriously, eyes rapt, “and it’s not like Mystic Maya would know, and every time Mystic Mia is around, I don’t have time to ask her about Mr. Armando.”
“Uh…” Maggey wiped her nose on the back of her hand. “Yeah, it feels really, really good. If you do it right. It’s harder for the woman to have a good time than the guy; if the guy’s really stupid or doesn’t think about your needs, it’s kind of lame. But if he’s willing to communicate and learn, it’s really, really nice.”
“Like Detective Gumshoe?”
Maggey blushed and nodded, smiling to herself. “Yeah…”
“What does an orgasm feel like?”
“Pearl!” Maya gaped at her cousin. “What has gotten into you tonight? We’re trying to talk about a pregnancy!”
“It’s okay,” said Maggey. “I’d rather talk about this.” She thought for a moment. “Well, it’s something you can find out for yourself. You don’t need a man for that.”
“I know Mystic Maya masturbates, but she doesn’t like to talk about it, and I’ve tried, but I never got very far before I got bored.”
“Then you’re clearly not doing it right—”
“PEARL!” Maya shrieked. “How do you know about that?”
“You release a lot of mental and psychic energy when you orgasm.” Pearl adjusted her legs beneath her. “We don’t study it here, but a lot of mystics focus on that sort of energy or bondage to another person.”
“Oh, yeah, huh…” Maggey curled up again and looked over her legs. “…do you guys do Tarot readings or anything like that? I…” The gravity returned to her eyes. “…I don’t know what to do. I really don’t. It’s not like I have an answer in my heart I don’t want to face or something.”
“We’re not clairvoyants, I’m afraid.”
“Oh.”
There was something else Maggey wanted to say; it was obvious, but she was biting her lip, looking up at Maya and Pearl nervously, glancing back down, looking up again, her arms tightly around her abdomen. Maya heard her thoughts, though, clearly as they had been yelled. The psychic force, the sheer need behind them, almost made Maya cry.
I want to talk to my mom.
Maya glanced at Pearl; it was obvious Pearl understood. Pearl glanced at Maya and nodded firmly. Maya nodded back and took Maggey’s hand.
“Maggey, come on. There’s somebody I think who wants to talk to you, and who loves you very much.”
-----------------------
“Have you guys moved in together yet?”
“No.”
Gumshoe was stretched out supine on the Wright Talent Agency’s red leather couch, coat draped over the arm under his head, tie loose and shirt unbuttoned. He belched softly; he was utterly smashed. Phoenix was sitting on the matching chair close to Gumshoe’s head, sipping some of the wine he had nipped from the Borsht Bowl Club. It had taken some convincing, but he had gotten off early that night. It was a Wednesday, anyway; already slow, and the few customers he had waiting to play him were low-rollers. It was silent and there was little danger of interruption; Trucy was long asleep in the nook she had made for herself in the office, and she had been out late practicing sleight-of-hand tricks for tourists again. She had used part of her earnings to buy a bowl of apricots for the piano-counter, and Phoenix had already eaten three of them.
“You’re going to be hung over as hell tomorrow. What time do you have to show up?”
“Six, same as always.”
Phoenix looked at his watch. It was three in the morning.
“You better call in sick.”
Gumshoe nodded. “But I need to start saving money… for the baby…”
“You’re on salary, not hourly. You have sick days.”
“Yeah…” Gumshoe rolled over and stared at Phoenix, bleary, drunk. “Hey, pal?”
“Yeah?”
“How do you stand… being away from Mr. Edgeworth so much?”
Phoenix stared back at him. “It’s… hard,” he finally said. “It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. But we talk on the videophone a lot, and I know we’ll get to be together someday.”
“Have you gone out to visit him? He hasn’t been back here in a while.”
“Once.” Phoenix looked down at his hands, smiling at the memory. Warm sheets, lazy mornings, soft skin—“In Belgium. It was an awesome little town. I’d love to go back as soon as I can swing it.”
“I can’t pretend I know what it’s like to love… a guy, pal, you know? It seems so unnatural to me. Like, I got guys I love like brothers, you know, but…”
“It’s no different.”
“But how would you know—”
Gumshoe quailed. Phoenix knew he was glaring, though he shouldn’t; Gumshoe was simple, but honest, and never meant any offence to anybody.
“Oh, that’s right, huh. That… girl.”
“It’s in the past.” It’s in the past. I can finally say that, and mean it in my heart. Edgeworth’s put her so far in the distance. “And even if I had never loved a woman… I’d just know. It’s the same force. The same power, and fear, and pain, and ultimately, the same elation and joy.”
“Oh, huh.”
There was an awkward silence, and Phoenix started peeling the flesh off another apricot.
“But, you know, you don’t have to worry about Mr. Edgeworth getting knocked up.”
Phoenix laughed softly and pulled a strip of fruit off with his teeth. “True.” He chewed, the strip disappearing little by little, swallowed. “I have to deal with his mood swings enough as it is. Besides, I already have a daughter. One is enough. Trust me. I’m going gray before my time with all she gets up to.”
“I don’t know what to do, pal.”
“Well, when was the last time you slept, first off?”
“I—I dunno.” Gumshoe pulled out his battered cell phone and checked the time. “…yesterday?”
“Things usually look better after a night of sleep.”
“Do you really think I can sleep right now?”
“After all that wine? I’d be shocked if you don’t.”
“What if…” Gumshoe rolled over onto his side and propped himself up on his arm. “What if Maggey needs me? What if she comes looking for me at my place?”
“I assume she knows your cell phone number. Or at least, I hope she does.”
Gumshoe nodded and put his phone back into his pocket before collapsing back onto the couch. He closed his eyes and breathed out slowly, then tilted his head back and opened his eyes, staring at the ceiling.
“Thanks, pal. Really… thank you so much.”
----------------------
She’s so beautiful.
He had thought it a million times before, and the power and truth of that statement never failed to enthrall him.
Gumshoe hovered in the half-twilight between sleep and wakefulness, unaware that the blanket around him had been draped there at some point, for some reason thinking it had always been there.
It was hot in the reception room. A sheen of sweat formed at the nape of his neck and his hairline, but he was too tired, too comfortable in his memory, to care.
Maggey sat with her legs curled to her side on Gumshoe’s bed, naked—she had stunning, lithe curves, steamlined and made strong by a policewoman’s workout, gorgeous, shapely breasts, just the right size to fit in Gumshoe’s hands, a thatch of dark hair at the juncture of her legs, partially cut-off from view by the bent of her thighs—the curve of her stomach was smooth and strong—and those eyes, and that soft smile, totally accepting and comfortable—
That was what struck Gumshoe hardest, the ease and comfort they felt in one another’s presence as they had gotten closer to one another over the years. He had recalled being told once that after sleeping with somebody, you feel totally comfortable just sitting with them for hours, without nervous chatter to break the silence. It was true, the comfort and ease he felt around her was profound, and he didn’t feel so inept and useless—
“You’re beautiful,” he said. He was lying on his side on the bed, also naked, subconsciously tracing his fingertips along the comforter in a ghost of the motions he wanted to make on her skin, did make on her skin, would make on her skin.
Maggey smiled shyly and glanced at the bedspread for a moment, and Gumshoe hoped she wasn’t going to do the thing girls do when they’re complimented on their appearance and deny it—
“You are too.”
Gumshoe’s heart rose, though he was sure Maggey was lying. He knew he was homely. His body was big, angular, and clumsy, his hands were calloused, and he hadn’t shaved since that morning. He was well-muscled—that was the one thing he was proud of, as he was diligent in working out during breaks—but still hairy and rough. His cock, at that point erect, bent sideways, though Maggey had assured him countless times before that she could care less and could even use that characteristic to their advantage. She had said that she would benefit greatly if he’d trim downstairs, as he had what she called a ‘forest’ of black, wiry hair, and she got sick of picking it out of her permanent retainer. He had laughed in spite of himself at that; he had braces in the past too. It was another aspect they had in common. He had said turnabout is fair play (a saying he had gotten from Mr. Edgeworth), and she had laughed at that and thrown a pillow at him. They obliged each other; it had become a running joke, a point of inspection, and a mutually-beneficial one at that.
His mind wandered to eating Maggey out, something he had come to enjoy immensely and had become quite good at, if he said so himself (no small thanks to help files on the internet). He remembered holding her jerking hips in his hands, the curves fitting well into his palms, licking at her juices, glancing up through his lashes while he sucked on her clit to see her writhe with her head thrown back, eyes closed, moaning softly. He would nuzzle her clit with his nose while lapping at her opening; this made her thrash, drove her insane, drove her to orgasm quickly. He could time how long he had to work by conserving this move; he had playing Maggey’s body down to an art. He could get her off very quickly at work, even, something they had taken to doing on long shifts when nobody was around, sitting on tables and chairs in storage closets or evidence rooms. He was glad she wore the policewoman’s uniform with a skirt as opposed to trousers, as it was easy to slip her panties down her thighs, draw her slim skirt over her hips. He’d sometimes prefer to finger her so he could kiss her, whisper to her, hold her, but he’d gotten somewhat gun-shy and neurotic about washing his hands beforehand after Maggey had gotten a UTI, and was livid with him for a good few days. There had been no incidents since, and he had gotten amazingly adept at getting his thumb and fingers at just the right angles to drive her wild, make her rise up on her hips toward him, moan and gasp loudly enough that he had to cover her mouth with his so they wouldn’t get nailed—he could rub her clit and the walnut-rough spot just inside her, the place that made her jerk with ecstasy—
He subconsciously curled his fingers as though around Maggey, and his fingertips brushed the rough weave of Wright’s blanket. He remembered for a moment where he was, but his mind quickly flitted back into semi-consciousness.
And, of course, before or after, Maggey obliged him in turn. His eyes fluttered into the back of his head with the memory, and his hand strayed down inside his pants. He hadn’t realized he was already this hard, and he smoothed pre-cum around his head with his thumb. It was rough, so unlike Maggey’s hands, calloused though hers were from training. Her hands were soft and warm, her strong tongue like velvet, it was deliciously hot inside her mouth—and she always paid attention to the area just under his head, what did she call it, f-something?—which sent spasms of pleasure up his back so strong he had to fight not to thrust hard into her mouth. It was more risky for her to jerk him off for any sustained period of time, as much as he loved to see her eyes and kiss her, because things could get very messy very quickly, and if they were at work fifteen seconds could be the difference between easy escape and getting caught.
Despite his misgivings, Gumshoe smiled softly and reached out across the bedspread, and Maggey placed her fingertips on the back of his hand, smiling back at him. Her delicate fingers were dwarfed by his.
“What are you thinking right now?”
Gumshoe thought for a moment. “You’re beautiful,” he said finally. “I love you. And I’m so glad you’re back on the force, so I can see you every day. You’re the most important thing in my life.”
“I love you, too.”
Her smile turned into a smirk, and Gumshoe’s insides lurched pleasurably as though coursing with molten lead.
------------------------
The pale morning light was already too bright and hot for Phoenix’s liking.
Gumshoe was still sprawled out asleep on the couch after Phoenix had seen Trucy off to school. He sat down on the edge of the couch and started the coffee machine beside him, watching the detective tiredly. Gumshoe had twisted himself into an odd heap with half the blanket falling off his large frame, and he was so tall that his legs dangled off the armrest just below his knees. He had his ear-buds in his ears, chord snaking to some pocket in his jacket; the music was faintly audible at this range. Phoenix leaned down to better hear, and winced at Gumshoe’s stale, alcohol-shot breath.
Though I see
The danger there
If there’s a chance for me
Then I don’t care
Phoenix laughed quietly and shook his head. He carefully removed Gumshoe’s earbuds, and Sinatra was loud for the few moments before Phoenix frisked Gumshoe for his mp3 player to turn it off. He pressed the ‘back’ button with his thumb and noted that, unsurprisingly, Gumshoe had been looping a playlist called ‘Maggey’. He smiled, held the ‘power’ key until the player powered off, and wound the headphone chord lengthwise around before setting it on the coffee table. Gumshoe was going to be hung over; he would bet on that easily. Loud music would not wake him up in a good mood.
The coffee was finished; Phoenix poured some into a mug and took a deep draught. Ever since he had to deal with Godot, he had taken to trying coffee black, and found that after a while it had grown on him. In his half-asleep state, staring into the black pool in his cup, his mind often drifted back to that trial, that great victory before his life went to hell, and he felt sorry for the man with all the loose threads of that year wrapped around his fist.
His mind inevitably drifted to Mia, harbingered by the sheer pain he saw through Godot’s goggles, and he gripped his face, dragging his fingertips over his eyes, seeing flashes with the pressure. There was nothing he could have done. He had finally come to peace with this, but damned if he didn’t still wish he could have.
“Excuse me?”
The voice was coming through the intercom’s. A woman’s. Phoenix leaned over backward, dangerously close to knocking over the coffee stand, and held down the square manila button next to the speaker.
“Wright Anything Agency. If you’re a reporter, go fuck yourself.”
“Mr. Wright? It’s Maggey Byrde.”
“…Maggey?”
“Yeah. Is Rick… Detective Gumshoe there? He’s not at his house. He said he was going to go talk to you last night.”
“Yeah, he’s here. Hold on. I’ll come let you up.”
Phoenix lifted his finger off the intercom and looked down at himself. He was stripped to the waist, dressed in naught but sweatpants, and he hadn’t shaved in three days. His hair looked like hell. He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair a few times before running downstairs and opening the front door.
“Well, I wouldn’t have believed it if I didn’t see it myself.” Phoenix looked Maggey up and down. Her eyes had widened upon seeing that Phoenix was half-naked, and she was looking him up and down—not disapprovingly, Phoenix noted with a surge of pride. He smiled and gave her a hug anyway. “Officer Byrde once again.”
“Soon to be Detective Byrde, hopefully.”
“Ah, congratulations!”
Phoenix stood aside to allow Maggey indoors, and closed the door behind her.
“Thank you.” She placed her hand on her stomach. “Though this doesn’t come at the best time for that.”
“Well, I think I should add ‘babysitting’ to the list of talents we have at the Wright Talent Agency.”
“So, Rick already told you, huh?”
“Yeah.” Phoenix ran his fingers through his hair again and started up the stairs, Maggey following him. “What he didn’t tell me was what you planned to do, as he himself didn’t know.”
Maggey stopped briefly, gripping the handrail and biting her lower lip. Phoenix paused, glancing over his shoulder.
“…Maggey… you do have to decide soon.”
“I’m keeping it.”
Phoenix took a silent breath, wanting to ask her if this was a good time, if she was sure, but the determined look in her eyes caught the words in his throat. He sighed and continued up the stairs.
“You went to Kurain, didn’t you?”
“Yeah.” Maggey continued up the stairs after him. “I talked… to my mom. It really helped me work some things out.”
“And what does she think?”
“She thinks I’m an idiot for trusting that herbal birth control, but she said that if I love Rick, and he loves me, and he’s willing to… you know, work through all the hard stuff that comes with kids… everything will be all right.”
If. If. But damned if they aren’t both stubborn as hell. And if it’s true that oblivious fools are able to do the impossible because they aren’t aware it’s impossible, by their powers combined should be able to do anything.
“Maya and Pearl are doing just fine,” said Maggey. “They want to come down and visit soon.”
“That would be awesome.”
Phoenix had to shove aside a hula hoop that had fallen across the door to get into the room. Maggey stood in the doorway with a vaguely horrified expression as Phoenix jumped and picked his way across the collection of junk in his lobby to Gumshoe’s couch.
“You raise your daughter in this environment?”
Phoenix laughed. “Do you know how much of this junk is hers?”
“You’re still teaching her to be a slob!”
“She doesn’t need any teaching; trust me.” Phoenix reached the coffee stand and held out his mug. “Coffee? We do have sugar and cream.”
“Uh… sure.”
Phoenix started sifting around for a spare—clean—mug while Maggey picked her way gingerly toward the couch and sat next to Gumshoe’s legs. She leaned down close to his face as though to kiss him, and suddenly straightened, sighing.
“How drunk is he?”
“Extremely.” He offered her the character mug of cream-sugar-coffee. “I hope you don’t mind the Pink Princess mug.”
“It’s fine. Thanks.”
Maggey took a careful sip and set the mug on a cleared edge of the coffee table. Gumshoe was still snoring; she elbowed him in the ribs, but he did not respond. She sighed and took another drink of coffee.
“Well, at least he’s sleeping.”
“Did you get any sleep last night?”
Maggey shook her head. Phoenix plucked the mug from her hands mid-sip and gulped the entire mug himself. Maggey gaped, hands still curled as though holding the cup.
“…hey--!”
“I’ll give you something else to drink, but you’re going to bed.”
“Then why did you give me coffee in the first place?”
“Because I’m tired and not thinking either.” Phoenix walked toward his office with the Pink Princess mug dangling off his finger. “I think we only have grape Kool-Aid; I’m afraid I am the sort of parent who gives his kids the ‘purple stuff’.”
“…what?”
“Before your time.”
Phoenix found nothing in the mini-fridge but a McDonald’s foil-top cup of orange juice, which Maggey accepted. Phoenix stretched and popped his back loudly, yawning.
“Well, you’ve got to start taking really good care of your health until the baby is born. That means sleep and food. Folic acid and all that stuff.”
Maggey checked her watch. “I was supposed to be at the station two hours ago. So was Rick.”
“Call in sick.”
“We can’t both call in sick on the same day!”
“Yes, you can.” Phoenix picked up his mug and took a deep drink. “If you’re in close contact with one another, and one of you is sick, the other will probably get sick too.”
“That’s the thing. We haven’t really told anybody at the precinct that we’re… you know.”
Phoenix shrugged. “You’re co-workers. Not all diseases are saliva-or-sexually-transmitted.”
“Objection.” Maggey poked the tip of Phoenix’s nose with her forefinger. “We work on opposite sides of the building, and we’re assigned different cases lately. And nobody else is sick.”
Phoenix laughed and shook his head. “All right, fine. But you’re still calling in sick. Maya would kick my ass if she found out I let you go to work today. And so would Trucy.”
“And so would Rick, probably.”
“Gumshoe? Probably.”
Maggey sighed and took a deep drink of orange juice. “I hope he doesn’t start to do the Guy Thing and be protective of me just because I’m pregnant. I can still take care of myself.”
“If he does, it’s only because he loves you. It’s not that he doesn’t respect you. He’s… the opposite. He worships you. It’s just something guys are programmed to do to keep their genes going.”
“You’re such a romantic, Mr. Wright.”
“I know.” Phoenix rubbed Maggey’s shoulder. “I know you can take care of yourself, and I know you’ll do a fine job. You’re going to be a wonderful mother.”
Maggey smiled and saluted. “I’ll be the best mother and detective you’ve ever seen; just you wait!”
“You’re…” Phoenix paused, carefully placing his words in order. “…sure this is a good idea right now?”
“Why wouldn’t it be?”
Phoenix opened his mouth, hesitated, and closed it. Maggey’s expression clearly indicated that she was dead-set on making this work, regardless of the very realistic obstacles inherent in this situation. Her eyes carried the force of her stubbornness.
They burned.
“I’m not afraid.” Maggey’s voice was calm, level.
‘Fools rush in where wise men never go’, huh.
Phoenix sighed and nodded. “Well, one thing at a time. Your priority right now is to get some rest.”
“I know, I know.” She set her juice down and fished in her skirt pocket. “All right, you win.” She pulled out her cell phone. “I’m exhausted anyway.”
-------------------------
Maggey was sick the next morning.
Gumshoe was working on a report at his cubicle across the office when he saw Maggey suddenly stand up at her desk and walk briskly toward the women’s restroom, hand over her mouth. He stared at the closed door, brows knit, unsure of what to do. He knew morning sickness was normal, and that in the end, Maggey would be just fine, if not in a foul mood, but he ached at the thought of her feeling any discomfort or pain. He tried to focus on the last details of his report, but found himself glancing at the restroom door every two seconds, so he finally set his pen down and walked to the break room. Damned if he knew what was best to give a woman for morning sickness—he walked back to his cubicle and searched ‘morning sickness’ on the internet, and upon its advice, returned to the break room to make Maggey ginger tea with cut lemon. He tried to find crackers, as that was recommended as well, but could only find pretzels, which he assumed would have to do.
Maggey was back at her cubicle with her head on her desk when Gumshoe arrived. He set the tea and bag of pretzels beside her and pulled up a vacant chair, rubbing her shoulders. Her muscles were in knots.
“I’m going to kill you,” she said.
“I know.” He sighed. “I’m sorry. If I could take this pain on myself, I would.”
Maggey flicked Gumshoe’s hand. “No, you wouldn’t.” She looked up at the food he had brought. “What’s this?”
“Ginger tea with lemon. Apparently ginger and lemon and tea are good for morning sickness, so by their powers combined they should be super.” He paused. “And they’re out of crackers.”
He kept rubbing Maggey’s shoulders, waiting for her to try the tea before it cooled off, but she kept her forehead on the desk. He sighed and moved his fingertips up to the back of her neck, rubbing at the knots he found there.
“Apparently the smell of fresh lemons is good, too. I was going to find some lemon-scented Lysol and bring it over here to spray around, but I couldn’t find any.”
Maggey suddenly stood up, knocking Gumshoe’s hands off, muttering an “Excuse me”, and ran toward the restroom again. Gumshoe sighed heavily and put his hands in his lap, watching the women’s restroom with worry.
“Have you told the chief yet?”
Gumshoe looked up. Gemini, one of Maggey’s closest friends on the force, was leaning around her cubicle and arching her eyebrows at Gumshoe knowingly.
“No.” He looked down at his hands for a moment before looking up through his lashes guiltily. “It is, uh… that obvious?”
Gemini gave him a flat look. Gumshoe sighed and scratched the back of his head.
“I think she’s really mad at me.”
“Oh, I’m sure she hates you right about now.”
Gumshoe sighed heavily and stared down at his hands. He heard Gemini sigh exasperatedly and wheel her chair further back toward him.
“Dick—”
“—I really hate that name—”
“—Richard, whatever, Gumshoe—”
“—Rick is fine—”
“—Rick, fine. Look. Maggey is crazy about you. She’s just in a really bad mood because she feels bad. It’s just like the UTI thing.”
Gumshoe looked up sharply. “You knew about that?”
“We have girl talk.” Gumshoe felt blood rush to his face; he wondered what the hell else ‘girl talk’ they had had about him. Gemini waved her hand dismissively. “Nothing bad. Look, the point is she loves you. And if you want to know a secret—” She looked toward the restroom. “—she’s wondering why you haven’t asked her to marry you.”
Gumshoe stared back in shock. “…really?”
“And now’s as good a time as any, don’t you think?”
“But—” Gumshoe scooted his chair closer to Gemini and leaned in. “—won’t the chief flip out?”
Gemini shrugged. “Look, if he hasn’t figured it out by now, like the entire precinct, he will.”
Gumshoe heard a chair settle behind him; Maggey was sitting back down, picking up the teacup. She was sheet-white and clammy. He scooted backwards toward her and stroked her hair, mumbling soothingly. She looked on the verge of tears. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and kissed her on the temple, still smoothing her mussed hair. She maneuvered the teacup over his arms and inhaled deeply, sighing.
“Maggey-Birdie, have you been to the doctor yet?” Gemini had wheeled closer to them.
Maggey shook her head slowly. “Once. I’m going again next week. I think I should tell the chief myself first. Since I’ve already had one checkup to confirm…”
“Speaking of which.”
Gemini nodded over the cubicles toward the center of the station; the chief was walking over at that moment. Gumshoe tensed up, wondering whether he should drop Maggey and crawl under the desk, or try to act nonchalant and come up with an excuse for why he wasn’t working.
Confirming Gumshoe’s fears, the chief stopped right next to them. He realized he had frozen with his arms around Maggey, and swallowed. Now that he thought about it, Gemini was right; this was so obvious you’d have to be an idiot not to realize—
“Gumshoe. Byrde.”
Gumshoe and Maggey stood up clumsily and saluted, saying “Yes, sir?” in unison. Gumshoe glanced to the side; Maggey was shaking slightly, and a drop of sweat rolled down from her hair, but she stood straight-shouldered and proud. Gumshoe’s heart welled.
“I need to see you both in my office.” His eyes softened as he looked at Maggey. “At ease. And you may bring your tea.”
The chief’s office was Spartan, familiar, and thankfully with two plush chairs on the visitors’ side of the desk so both Gumshoe and Maggey could sit down. The chief nodded for them to take a seat before sitting down himself in his swivel chair. He folded his fingers over his mouth pensively, then exhaled through his nose.
“First of all, I’d like to congratulate you both.”
Gumshoe and Maggey muttered a thanks. Gumshoe was staring at his hands; he was sure they were about to get fired.
“Hold it!” Gumshoe stood suddenly, pointing at the chief. “What are you congratulating us on? As far as I’m concerned, I’m not aware of anything to be congratulated for!”
Silence. Maggey hissed, “Rick—”
“Gumshoe, dammit, how dumb do I look?” The chief rubbed between his eyes. “I know you guys have been dating for quite some time now, and I know Officer Byrde is pregnant.”
Gumshoe lowered his hand slowly. “…and you didn’t fire us?”
“If I haven’t fired you by now, you oaf, I don’t see why I would over this. Sit down.”
Gumshoe collapsed into his chair. Maggey was clenching her fists in her lap. The chief sat back in his chair and looked from Gumshoe to Maggey carefully.
“Well, Officer Byrde, have you been going to the doctor regularly? You’ve got to keep healthy for your sake and the child’s.”
“I—” Maggey looked down at her hands, glancing up at the chief intermittently. “—once. To confirm the pregnancy. About a month ago. I have an appointment for next week.”
“And you’re not going to terminate?”
Maggey’s mouth firmed into a line. She shook her head. “No, sir.”
The chief looked at Gumshoe. “And you’re going to support her?”
“I can support myself!” Maggey yelled suddenly.
“I know, Byrde. But having two parents makes things infinitely more easy than one, on everybody.”
“Yes.” Gumshoe was surprised by the strength in his own voice. “I’m going to ask her to marry me, after I come up with a good way to surprise her.”
Both the chief and Maggey stared at Gumshoe in disbelief. Gumshoe’s eyes widened. Fuckshitdammit— “Wait. Uh.”
“Rick…” Maggey said quietly.
“Well, that’s… uh… good news.” The chief arched his eyebrows, half-cracking a smile. “Congratulations.”
“I didn’t say I accepted!” Maggey yelled.
Gumshoe felt as though he had been kicked in the stomach.
“Well… do you?” asked the chief.
“YES! Absolutely!”
Now Gumshoe felt like his stomach had fallen out of his body. He settled back in his chair heavily, a huge smile cracking across his face.
“Well… uh, congratulations. Still.” The chief pushed his glasses up his nose. “Now that’s… uh… out of the way… we need to discuss your salary.”
The kicked feeling was coming back.
“It’s been… uh… cut again, sir?”
“Well.” The chief pulled some papers toward himself and looked them over, then looked at Maggey and Gumshoe over his glasses. “You’re getting a raise.”
There was a dead silence. Gumshoe’s ears were ringing.
“A… raise, sir?” This can’t be happening he had to have read that wrong—
“Twenty percent, each of you.”
“…each of us?” Maggey squeaked.
“I didn’t know pregnancy messed with your ears, Byrde; I said both of you.”
“Why?” Gumshoe blurted.
The chief sighed. “Well… frankly, that’s a good question. But you have been working here for quite some time, and… well… you try damn hard.”
Gumshoe knit his brows; every time he had tried to say that he was trying to do a good job, he was told trying doesn’t get a salary raised.
“And… I think we have a need for a detective after you finish your maternity leave, Officer Byrde.”
Maggey was glowing. Gumshoe stood up suddenly and saluted her, grinning with pride.
“Congratulations, Officer!”
“Gumshoe, sit your ass down.”
“That’s fine, but on one condition,” said Maggey. She pointed at Gumshoe. “You have to give him more time off so somebody can help me take care of the kids!”
The chief nodded. “We can look into that. And HR can help you find childcare.”
“Thank you, sir!”
“You’ve had a good word put in for you.” The chief tapped the pile of papers in front of him vertically, evening them out, and set them back on the table. The look on his face was unfathomable. “You have a friend who cares about you.”
Gumshoe and Maggey exchanged puzzled looks. “…who?” Gumshoe finally asked.
“Damned if I know, but the order came from the district attorney’s office.”
-----------------------------------
“Thank you, Miles.”
Edgeworth shrugged. Phoenix smiled at the videophone and leaned on his hand. It was noon in Prague, and Edgeworth was sitting in a cafe on his lunch break, stunning as always in a cravat and vest. More than anything, Phoenix wished he was sitting with him, enjoying the cool air and the stunning architecture. A breeze teased the tips of Miles’ hair; Phoenix knew that sitting downwind from him, he would be able to smell his cologne, hinted with the unique touch the chemistry of Miles’ skin gave the scent. It made his hand jerk reflexively under the table; the thought made him want to bury his nose in the crook of Miles’ neck, interlace his fingers with his own. He had kept one of Miles’ shirts from the last time Miles was here, would inhale deeply of it, but the cologne along the collar had gone stale, had lost the freshness of skin.
Phoenix’s resolve to visit Miles in Europe strengthened. They had been planning a meeting for quite some time, but Miles kept being scheduled for conferences and shuttled around the continent.
“It’s no problem. I feel sorry for that poor child being raised by those clods.”
“You’re such a sweetheart.”
Miles shrugged and pushed his glasses up his nose, smiling in spite of himself. He took a sip of his tea. Phoenix stared at his lips and envied the teacup; it had been far too long since he had tasted them.
“Trucy says hi, by the way.”
“Ah, well, tell her I say hello.”
"She wants souvenirs from every town you visit. Preferably magic-related, of course.”
“We’ll have to see about that.” Miles checked his watch. “Oh, I’m almost due for a meeting. I’ll have to call you back later before you go card sharking.”
“How much longer do you have in Europe?”
Miles looked up at the camera on his computer, furrowing his eyes. Phoenix sighed; he knew he shouldn’t bug Miles so much, that he was trying his hardest to get back to the States, but the question kept slipping out. He knew it was magical thinking to assume asking more would hasten Miles’ return.
“Not long,” he said quietly. His eyes softened. “I promise. I love you, Wright.”
Phoenix kissed his fingers and pressed them against the camera. “I love you, Miles. I’ll talk to you later.”
