Disclaimer: I do not own the Ace Attorney franchise, make no claims to own it, and make no money off this fanfic.
Written for the Phoenix Wright Kink Meme, prompt: "This pairing snapped my brain. In a good way.
Gregory Edgeworth x Trucy.."
The magic shop looked like a set right out of an old movie. Trucy was delighted when she saw it, and even more so when she found the grimoire. The shopkeeper's wild claims aside, she didn't expect it to do anything but provide her with an appropriately spooky prop for her act.
Still, she couldn't resist reading the unfamiliar words out loud, hoping that what she lacked in pronunciation she made up for in enthusiasm. She'd barely finished speaking when she doubled over, holding her stomach. It wasn't quite a stomach ache and it wasn't quite cramps, and it hurt worse than either ever had-
A moment later the pain stopped, and Trucy was in the middle of a construction site where her home should be. The grimoire was nowhere to be seen.
After the angry foreman chased her off the construction site, the only thing Trucy could think to do was go to the magic shop. When she arrived there, wondering if she was returning or if she should consider this her first visit, she discovered that it hadn't opened yet. Instead, there was a shop selling fancy lotions and soaps in its place.
After that Trucy didn't know what to do. The date on the newspapers told her she'd gone back thirty-odd years. She did the math in her head and realized that her mother and father were just small children, and her second father hadn't even been born yet. She had four dollars and thirteen cents in her pocket, but none of it was even printed in this century. Trucy wasn't sure what would happen if she tried to use it, and even in the past, four dollars wouldn't last very long.
Trucy found herself sitting at a bus stop, trying not to give up and cry. She didn't notice when the young man joined her, didn't notice his presence at all until he hesitantly asked if she was all right.
No, she told him, no, she really wasn't, and before she could think better of it she wound up spilling out the whole story.
Even as she spoke she could tell he didn't believe her, but he sat by her side, awkwardly patting her shoulder until she'd calmed down.
"I made you miss your bus," she said between sniffles.
"It's fine. There'll be another, or I can just walk." He hesitated for a moment. "Do you have a place to stay tonight?"
Trucy's eyes watered, and she suddenly missed her bedroom with the blue walls and the clouds her father painted not long after she moved in with him.
"Don't cry, it'll be ok," the young man said, sounding panicked. "I have a couch you can sleep on until you figure out what to do."
Trucy let him pay her bus fare and went home with him. On the ride she learned that his name was Gregory Edgeworth and he was a law student at the local university. It took her a minute to place the name, until she remembered the friend in Europe her father was always sending emails to. She wondered if they might be related, but didn't have too much time to think about it before they arrived at his stop.
He brought her to his apartment and gave her sweatpants and a t-shirt to sleep in, and he was so tall and broad-shouldered that she was practically swimming in them. Trucy slept like the dead that night. It didn't occur to her until much later that she should have been leery about his offer. His eyes were so kind behind his thick glasses that she couldn't help but trust him.
Trucy spent the next few days loafing on his couch feeling sorry for herself. Greg - he insisted that she call him Greg, saying that only his parents had ever used his full name - Greg was very patient, never asking when she was going to leave or making her feel unwanted.
Trucy might have spent even more time becoming one with his couch, but in his hurry to leave on time for his morning class Greg left one of his textbooks open on the desk. It took her some time to decipher the legalese, but Trucy determined that he was reading about the laws relating to runaway children. He'd spoken briefly of his classes, and she was quite certain this wasn't part of his course-work.
Greg apparently thought she was running away from a bad family situation. He was the only person she knew here, and she didn't want to be separated from him. Trucy decided that she'd show she could take care of herself, and she wouldn't give him a reason to turn her over to social services.
Trucy spent the hours Greg was in class scouting the local bars and night clubs, until she found one willing to pay her under the table and disregard how very underage she was. It might not be what she was used to, but Trucy was certain her magic tricks could still pull in a crowd.
Trucy kept her ear to the ground for any rumors of people promising real magic and worked her evening shows at the bar, and without her really being aware of it, weeks and then months went by.
The reason time flew by so quickly was because of her growing friendship with Greg. He was so nice, and while he took law school very seriously, the rest of the time he was an unrepentant dork. He showed her grainy Monty Python tapes and could recite The Princess Bride from memory, which never seemed to dull his enjoyment at watching it again.
Trucy didn't realize just how much she liked him until one night he didn't come home. She sat up late worrying about him and wondering when exactly she'd started thinking of his little apartment as home. She was nearly asleep when he returned, and she watched through half-closed eyes as he turned out the lights and pulled her blanket over her before retreating to his bedroom.
Greg's hair was a mess and he had lipstick on his collar. Trucy wasn't sure what to make of the sudden surge of jealousy and anger. Greg could do what he wanted, and it wasn't as though he was sneaking around - of course he wouldn't bring his date back to the apartment with her there. She shouldn't feel betrayed, but she did.
The longer she thought about it, the angrier she got. What did his mystery girlfriend know about Greg, anyway? Trucy had been living with him for most of a year. Did his girlfriend know that Greg's parents died in a car crash when he was seventeen, and he still got quiet and sad when he talked about them? Did she know that he lost his glasses at least once a week, and the best places to look to help him find them? Did she know how utterly uncool he was when he tried to dance?
Trucy had worked herself up until she was ready to storm into Greg's bedroom and demand to know who the woman was, when it finally occurred to her to wonder why it mattered so much.
The next morning it was his turn to cook, and Trucy decided to ask her questions then so he wouldn't be able to escape them.
"So when do I get to meet your girlfriend?"
"Once I have a girlfriend, I'll be sure to introduce you."
"Then who were you out with last night? Boyfriend?"
Greg dropped the spatula. "What? No! How do you know about last night? You're not supposed to know about that." He picked up the spatula and rinsed it in the sink before he continued cooking.
"I've been here eleven months, and this is the first time you were out late. Was she a one-night stand?"
"You're sixteen; I'm not going to discuss this with you." He was facing away from her, but he was blushing so hard the back of his neck was turning red. Trucy decided it was kind of cute.
"Closer to seventeen."
"If you're young enough to still use 'and a half' when discussing your age, you're too young to talk about sex," Greg said primly, and set a plate full of scrambled eggs in front of her. Trucy considered arguing about this but let it go, because he was a very good cook.
Trucy spent a lot of time over the next few weeks watching Greg and wondering how she could convince him she wasn't a little girl. After watching him watch her, she came to the conclusion that he hadn't been trying to convince her she was too young, he'd been trying to convince himself.
Three months later, despite the increasingly broad hints she'd been dropping, Trucy realized that Greg was never going to kiss her. So she waited until he'd sat down to study, and then she sat in his lap and kissed him.
Gregory Edgeworth was a good man with a great deal of self control, but even he had his limits. He and Trucy were both very pleased with the results when she finally pushed him past them.
Not too much later Trucy realized that, while she still missed her father and her friends, she seldom thought about going home anymore. Without ever trying to, she'd made a new home, and she could be happy here.
They were always careful, always used protection, but Trucy wasn't entirely surprised when, a year into their relationship, she got pregnant despite their precautions. And when the ultrasound revealed that the baby was a boy and Greg said he'd like to name the baby Miles, after his father, Trucy wasn't surprised by that either.
Trucy wondered when Miles and her father met. If he'd ever mentioned it to her, she'd forgotten it, and even before Miles was born she looked forward to the day he would bring her father home from school. She didn't know what she'd say or do, but it would be nice to see her father again, even as a child.
When Miles was born he had his father's hair and eyes and nothing of Trucy in him. Trucy and Greg brought him home to that same tiny apartment, now with a crib set up in the living room, and for a week they were tired but deliriously happy.
Trucy had a week with her son, and then came the day she felt a wrenching pain in her stomach. For a moment she was terrified that something was wrong, that she wasn't healing from childbirth the way she should, and then the pain stopped, and she opened her eyes to see her small blue and white bedroom.
Trucy went back to the magic shop, and this time it was there. She begged the shopkeeper to help her, to send her back, because her baby needed her. His eyes were full of regret as he told her again what he'd told her earlier that same day for him, three years ago for her - the nature of the grimoire's magic was random, and he couldn't control it anymore than she could. Trucy could cast spells for the rest of her life and still never find her way back to her son.
When Trucy saw herself in the mirror for the first time she wanted to cry. The baby fat that had melted away from her face over the course of three years was back, and her stretch marks had vanished. The stretch marks had embarrassed her when they'd first appeared, but Greg had touched them so carefully, amazed at the changes in her body, and now any evidence of her time in the past was gone.
She tried to find him after that, hoping he'd believe it was her after so many years, and she learned that Greg had died young, had been murdered in an elevator years before she was born.
Next she dug through her father's possessions until she found a picture of him and Miles, celebrating some victory together. Her father had a wide grin and had thrown his arm over Miles' shoulders, while Miles looked like he wanted to bolt out of the camera's view. He resembled Greg so strongly it hurt to look at him.
She stared at that picture for long time. Miles had nine years with his father. She wondered what Greg had told him about his absent mother. She wondered if Miles had ever found himself staring at a witness' nervous tics. She wondered what a DNA test would show.
Even if she could gather that evidence, she wondered if he would ever believe her if she told him.