When It's All Over

They’d rushed them out of there pretty quickly. The police had come, frantically taping off the witness stand. She could still hear tears and cries from the gallery. After all, they’d come expecting a trial, not an execution. Even Miles Edgeworth, the young prosecutor whose Mia had only described as arrogant and irritating up until this moment had paled. Manfred von Karma had ushered him away, sternly telling him to keep a straight face. Mia felt a little sorry for him now. That wasn’t exactly the nicest case to make his debut in. Or for her, on that matter. The judge had understandably been questioned first, since he’d have the most neutral opinion of the matter. The evidence was all there, the transcripts, the witnesses, it just had to be neatly collated and filed. There was no room for debate as to what had happened. 

Terry Fawles was dead.

After the police had questioned her and Diego, she felt herself dissociate. Felt herself wobble, her vision cloud with fatigue and latent shock. It was dark when they left, the moonlight illuminating the grand stairs leading up the courthouse. During law school, Mia had aspired greatly to walk prominently up those stairs to deliver righteousness, to deliver justice. But now the courtroom had lost its shine, lost its appeal, lost its honour and reverence in her mind. Now Mia had seen the ugly side, the realities of the system. The realities Diego had long since become desensitised to.

“Come on, let’s go. I think we can still get the last train.” His voice was hoarse. She glanced down at the bloodied bandage on his hand. That was right, Mia remembered. They’d had to stop by the first aid room to bandage his hand up. The wound probably needed stitches, but he insisted he’d manage it just fine. 

She nodded, sniffling. Mia walked with him to the station, his hand, the one without the bandage, gripping her bicep strongly. An ever-present reminder that he was there. They got on the train, thankfully not too busy. Rush hour was long since over, and much to their necessity, they were alone on one end of the carriage.

“Mia, I…I don’t think you should be alone tonight.” His brown eyes gazed into hers.

Her head shook. “I’ll be fine.” Mia’s voice was small.

“Mia…I insist, please. Come back to my apartment with me, you can sleep in my bed and I’ll take the futon in the living room.”

She made a hesitant face. “Are you sure?”

“Of course. I’m here for you.” 

So they did as he suggested. Immediately, he cleared any clutter, not that there was much. The apartment was neat, warm, inviting. He took her overcoat, and got her a blanket, draping it over her shoulders gently. As she continued to distract herself, observing and noticing the small details in the surroundings, Diego went into the kitchen. It didn’t have any particular discerning features, at least not from a glance. But as she looked closer, she could see the legal books, a couple of old family photos, a slightly haphazard pile of what she presumed to be cases. The sound of the kettle boiled in the background. It hissed softly.

By the time, she turned around, there was a mug in front of her, plain white, nothing special. Inside was a steaming light-brown liquid and a spoon. An identical mug was a little away from her, filled with a darker liquid.

Coffee. Of course.

“At this hour?” She attempted a joke.

“Decaf and milk for you. Not that you’ll likely be sleeping much, but it can’t hurt.” He smirked, slightly. “As for me, well…it comforts me. Whenever I need stability, whenever I need to feel grounded, coffee never lets me down. It helps me to think clearly.”

Mia nodded, sipping it slowly. The warmth trailed down her throat, giving her a sensation to focus on rather than the heaviness and pain in her chest. Her expression was still worried, understandably.

“Don’t you dare blame yourself for this. You did the best you could.” His bandaged hand clasped hers on the table.

He could read her like a book, she realised. All this time, she thought he was just trying to act like some hot-shot, pestering her at her desk non-stop, but through all of that, she realised he understood her. He knew how she felt right now, because he too, had felt the pain. He’d been at this game for longer, he knew the true ups and downs of being a lawyer. And right now, Diego Armando was here for her, because he cared for her and wanted to help.

“I-I just wish we figured it out earlier. Before he…” She sighed, the steam from the coffee swirling with her breath.

“She won’t get away with it. We will investigate this, we will make sure justice is served. That is why we cannot give up Mia, because that is our job.” His voice had hardened, rife with conviction.

She looked up at him earnestly, knowing that he was not the type to yield at such an event. And for the first time since she left the court house, Mia felt a sense of relief. That things really were going to be okay.

And later as she settled into his bed, which smelt slightly musky, slightly masculine, slightly foreign, Mia smiled, feeling comforted to know that someone was in her corner, that someone was willing to fight with her, for her even.

Diego. Diego Armando was in her corner.