Author's Note + Disclaimer: I always wondered if Phoenix was a little bitter towards Trucy because of what she did, and this is what I came up with. I don't own any of the characters, but Capcom does! Also, this might not make sense unless you have played Apollo Justice, or know what happens in it.
Yes, I love you.
Never mistake that.
I love you in the only way a father can love a daughter…fully, completely, without hesitation. You are my world, my sun, my reason for living.
I revel in your every smile. When you are happy, I'm happy, and your laughter is the most infectious sound I have ever heard. It radiates through you, shaking your shoulders and crinkling your eyes. Even when I come home from an achingly tiring night, fingers stiff, eyes itching, there you are, always cheerful, always excited, forever innocent and childlike and pure.
I love you so much.
I find I cannot look you straight in the face. I can never look directly into your eyes, my daughter, because…because when I do, I…
I look at you, Trucy, and I see everything. I see all my shame, my embarrassment, my old career…my old life crumbling down right in front of me, and it stabs me like a hundred thousand knives, it always slices through me just where it hurts, and crippled, I must turn away from you, eyes stinging with resentment and anger and…and…
I didn't know it was possible to hate what I hold so dearly.
Of course I know you didn't mean to do it. You were nothing but a baby when you handed me that crinkled piece of paper.
You were nothing but a baby when you handed me my defeat.
I still dream about it, you know: your wide brown eyes, your soft pink outfit, your cute little smile as you addressed me. And always, always, that gut churning moment, the dizzying point when I took the paper from your fingers, and then I would jolt awake, gasping for air, sweating and hating and sick.
I'm a weak man, and I know it. I shouldn't blame you for what happened to me. You were being used, and I was too trusting. But it's easier to think it's your fault instead of taking responsibility for my naivety.
And so, that is why. That's why I sometimes cringe away from you, that's why I look over your shoulder when we speak, and that's why there are coal black rings under my eyes every morning.
You call me daddy, and I wish that you wouldn't, because daddy means protector, unconditional lover, provider, and forgiver.
I am not.
Call me cowardly, selfish, unworthy.
But please, please don't call me daddy.
I wish I could love you like you deserve.
Before I can ask your forgiveness, I must forgive myself for what I've done to you.
And I fear that will never happen.