Shout out to my Sebastian fans, y'all know who you are. Trigger warnings are in the tags.
Sebastian is leant over the desk with his head in his hands. He's breathing heavily, trying to keep himself together.
“Are you alright, Prosecutor Debeste?” Judge Courtney asks him. “Do you need a recess to get yourself together?”
“No, Your Honour.” He stands up straight. “I'm fine.”
“Alright, then if there are no more objections, I'm ready to hand down my sentence. For obstruction of justice, kidnapping, blackmail and murder, I sentence the defendant, Blaise Debeste, to capital punishment.”
Blaise doesn't react. I think he knew it was coming and has accepted his fate.
“Court is adjourned.”
As soon as the gavel slams, Sebastian scrambles out from behind the prosecutor's bench and runs out the door. I find him just outside the courtroom, his forehead resting on his fists, which are pressed against the wall. He's shaking with uncontrollable sobs.
“Sebastian.”
He reacts, but doesn't move away from the wall.
“Deep breaths,” I tell him. “You'll be alright.”
I place my hand gently on his upper back. He flinches initially, but then leans into me.
“It's so much,” he says. “I'm feeling everything at once, I can't…”
“It's all over now. I know that was difficult. But you accomplished it.”
I can hear footsteps. I look to see Blaise being taken back to his cell by the bailiffs. He stops in his tracks and glares at his son. Sebastian stares back, still sobbing.
“All your life, I thought you were just an incompetent idiot,” Blaise says. “But the moment you gained any capability, you used it against me. You traitor.”
“No, Pops. You're the traitor.” He sniffs and wipes his face. “We're supposed to uphold the law, not bend and break it for our own benedict.”
“Benefit,” I correct.
“Benefit, right. You don't care about the law or me. You never have. So go away.”
“You-”
“Go! You're dismissed.”
Blaise leaves. Sebastian is still trembling, scrubbing at his face. A crowd of people start to exit the courtroom. Some stare or try to interact with him, but I keep him shielded from them.
“Do you want to go somewhere more private?” I ask him.
“I want to wait for Justine.”
“Alright.”
She's the last to exit the courtroom. Sebastian seems to calm down a lot as soon as he sees her.
“Congratulations, Sebastian,” she says. “How are you feeling?”
He gives a vague response. “My head hurts,” he eventually settles on.
“That's probably from the emotional stress,” she says. “Do try to take care of yourself tonight, don't do anything too strenuous.”
He nods.
“I'm very proud of you.”
“You are?”
“You've come a long way in the time I've known you. You've grown into an intelligent young man.”
“Justine? Can…can I have a hug?”
“Of course you may.”
He's a little taller than her, so he has to stoop over slightly as he clings to her. Courtney rubs his back, softly.
“Thanks, Justine,” Sebastian says. “For everything. You've always been there for me. You've taught me so much.”
“You're welcome. You've proven today that my teachings were not in vain. You've saved a great many people from that man.”
He pulls back. “Justine? Were…you scared of Pops?”
She avoids eye contact. “There was always a…certain risk of being known to him. But I did what I had to do and was aware of the possible outcomes of this.”
“You thought…that something might happen. And it did! Your son…Pops tried to…I'm sorry.”
“That wasn't your fault or your responsibility. And it's in the past now.”
“Is he okay? Your son, I mean.”
“He's fine. It's very sweet of you to be concerned. But know this, the person you saved the most today, is yourself.”
Sebastian wipes his face. “Really?”
“Seb!” Kay bursts out of the crowd and throws herself at Sebastian. “You did it!”
“Put me down! Put me down!”
“Kay, put him down.”
She does. “I knew you could do it. Mr Shields and I were cheering you on from the gallery.”
“Metaphorically,” Raymond clarifies, also appearing out of the crowd. “I didn't want Kay getting kicked out for making a racket. But you did a great job, kid, we were all with you.”
“Thank you, everyone.” He wipes his nose again and Courtney gives him a tissue. “But I don't know if I deserve all of this praise. I…I needed a lot of help. I never could've got this far without all of you.”
“Needing assistance from others doesn't make your achievements any less valid,” I say. “You're allowed to be proud of what you've done.”
“I don't know how I feel. This is supposed to be a good thing, you're all happy, but I just…” He starts crying again.
“Y'know, Seb, maybe you feel so bad because you're overthinking this,” Ray says.
“Huh?”
“Blaise was your dad, so you feel like you have to feel sad and guilty that you had to convict him. Right?”
He nods.
“But if he only ever made you feel bad and didn't care about you, maybe he wasn't a real dad. Know what I'm saying?”
Sebastian considers this for a moment. “I don't have any other dads.”
“Maybe not. But you still have a family.”
Sebastian slowly looks at each of us one by one and eventually breaks down sobbing. But this time, I think it's for a good reason.
“We should celebrate,” Kay says. “Because your dad can't tell you what to do anymore. And so that you know you did the right thing. I mean there's no point punishing yourself, you're not the criminal.”
“Okay.”
“I know someone who always goes out for hamburgers every time he wins a trial,” I say. “Does that interest you?”
“I am starving. I guess I didn't notice cos I was so focused on the trial. Thanks.”
“Let's go.”
And that's how the case ended. With a wound that would take time to heal. But I knew it would, and that a certain young man would come out stronger on the other side.
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Hard to believe this is my first DL-6 fic. But here it is. Thanks to @sunnyskies281 for reminding me how much I love dreams in fiction (go follow him!!). Trigger warnings are in the tags.
I can hear crying. A child crying. I don't know where I am, but I follow the sound until I finally find him curled up in a ball on the ground.
“Are…you alright?”
He looks up at me, his face tearstained. He's wearing a red suit jacket, shorts and a bowtie. His knees are pulled up to under his chin.
“What's the matter?” I ask him.
“I want my father.” He sobs harder.
I sit across from him and just watch him cry. He scrubs his face with his sleeves, but more tears keep falling.
“Father's gone, isn't he?” he says, eventually.
“I'm afraid so.”
“It's my fault.”
“Why would you think that?”
“I'm guilty. He said so.”
He points. I look.
Von Karma is standing behind the prosecutor's bench, glaring at me.
“Guilty.”
“No…” I say. “No, I'm not.”
I stumble backwards. The child is gone, it's just me in this courtroom where everyone's staring at me, everyone thinks I'm a criminal. I hear the gavel slam.
“I'm not guilty!” I shout. “It wasn't me!”
The gallery is getting louder but I can't hear what they're saying. I know I'm not guilty. I know I didn't do anything. I try running away, but I can't escape the room. I can't get out. But I'm not guilty. I'm not.
“Edgeworth!”
I'm shaken awake. It takes me a moment to get my breath back and to readjust to where I really am. Wright is holding me by the shoulders. He lets go once he realises I'm conscious.
“Are you okay?” he says. “Did you have a nightmare?”
“Yes. But I believe I am alright now. Thank you.”
“It's okay. You scared the hell out of me, you woke me up with your screaming.”
“I apologise.”
“No, no, it's okay.”
It's only been a few days since that trial. When I realised that everything I thought I knew was a lie, set up by someone I thought I trusted. Wright has let me stay at his apartment on and off since then, as he realised I was having trouble adjusting. I sleep on the sofa, as he doesn't have a spare bed. It's not the comfiest experience I've ever had, but I vastly prefer it to any other option available.
I wish there was some way I could repay Wright for everything he's done for me. He insists that it's not necessary.
“What time is it?” I ask.
“Three forty five.” He rubs his face, tiredly. “If everything's okay, I'm going back to bed.”
I hesitate. He notices.
“If you want me to stay up, I can.”
“You deserve your rest,” I say. “You've been working hard, lately.”
He sits on the other end of the sofa. “Talk to me.”
“It wasn't the same nightmare.”
“It wasn't?”
“I've had the same dream every night since I was eight years old. Until you proved my innocence. That night, I didn't have any dreams at all.”
“That's good. So…what about tonight?”
I explain to him what happened in this dream, trying not to get too worked up again, reminding myself that it was just a dream. He listens really intently.
“You kept saying you weren't guilty?”
“Yes. But no one believed me.”
“No, but that's a good sign. Your subconscious has finally accepted that you're not the one at fault for your father's death.”
“I…hadn't thought of it that way.”
“Even if no one else believes you, you believe in your own innocence. And you know that I believe in you.”
“Thank you, Wright. Truly. For everything.”
“No worries. I'm going to bed, okay?”
“Goodnight.”
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