Author's Note: This was written for C-chan, who wanted to see Phoenix's reaction when Bum-Rap Rhiny was proposed. This is set in the same universe as "Broken Systems, Bending People", between Phoenix's section and Klavier's section.

Tell Them Tales

"What is this?"

Hera looks up from the notes she is making in time to see a tiny stuffed animal in a blue suit be slammed down on her desk. "It's a rhinoceros."

Phoenix Wright stares across her desk at her. He's clearly been walking quickly, his breath coming in slightly-too-fast pants as he leans forward, both his palms planted firmly on the surface of her desk. He's still wearing jeans and a sweatshirt and a beanie, looks actually rather more disheveled than the last time she saw him, and she's glad that the security guard didn't stop him from entering the building. Probably because he's clearly shaved in the last twenty-four hours, which is a step up from during some of his darkest times. "A rhinoceros."

"Yes. An odd-toed ungulate of the family Rhinocerotidae." Hera smiles up at Phoenix, going for a bland, non-confrontational expression. She has been expecting this visit for the last two days, really, and she's glad that Phoenix came at a time when she doesn't have anyone else in the office, when she can speak with him immediately and directly.

"It's..." Phoenix gestures at the little toy, straightening to his full height. "Hera, it's me."

"No. You are neither a rhinoceros nor a stuffed toy." He is, rather, an incredible, stubborn, fierce, brave man who has been through far more than anyone should by age thirty-three, just like many of the other clients that Miles Edgeworth has brought her. "But if your complaint is that Bum-Rap Rhiny is based off of you... yes, he is."

"You're making a stuffed toy based off me." Phoenix looks at the small beta version of the toy, and Hera could swear he thinks the little thing is going to jump off the desk and start beating him with the tiny felt tears that are dangling from its eyes. "A toy rhinoceros."

"The original idea had been to try to use a phoenix motif, but the bird kept looking more like a chicken than a phoenix." Hera reaches out, turning the little rhinoceros so that it's facing Phoenix rather than her. "I think this version looks much better."

Phoenix covers his face with his hands. "Why are you doing this to me?"

"First off, it isn't me. The entire L-ACT decided that the stuffed toys would be a brilliant marketing tool, and I'm pretty sure that they're right." Hera had actually thought it was a rather impressive scheme, likely to raise both funds and interest, and she hadn't really tried to discourage the group from proceeding. "Secondly, I know you better than to believe that you're actually feeling put-upon right now; you're trying to manipulate me, and that's not particularly kind, Phoenix. Thirdly, I'm glad that you came, because I did want to discuss the toys with you before they went into any kind of mass production. Which is why I sent Rhiny to say hello to you."

Hera studies Phoenix, the way his hands dropped from his face to cross defensively in front of his chest when she say that he was playing a part rather than showing his true emotions. She's glad that she read him properly there, that he wasn't really as distraught as he was playing at being.

(It has been one of the worst things, over the last seven years—watching him take on parts of the people he is striving to defeat, watching him shift from open and earnest with an edge of snarky sarcasm to closed and cagey. She has done what she can to mitigate the toll the fight has taken on him, knows Miles Edgeworth and Maya Fey and a half-dozen others have also been striving to help in any way they can, and it still hasn't been enough to blunt all the thorns, to keep them from finding their mark and taking up residence.)

Phoenix Wright watches her, expression nonplussed, hands shoved down deep into the pockets of his hoodie.

He could wear a suit now. He has worn a suit, on the handful of occasions he has deigned to give interviews, usually to eager, bright-eyed reporters younger than he was when he first became an attorney. She knows that Edgeworth has taken Phoenix out clothes-shopping at least three times since Phoenix was declared innocent, determined to undo at least the physical changes seven years of misery have wrought.

As though changing the way Phoenix looks could change the way he feels, could smooth away the scars of the past by burying them beneath a sky-blue waistcoat, and Bum-Rap Rhiny wasn't the only reason Hera had wanted to see Phoenix, though he was a good excuse to get the ex-lawyer's attention.

Phoenix gives a long-suffering sigh, tilting his head first to one side and then the other as he studies the stuffed toy. "I don't suppose I get a say in whether or not this monstrosity's created?"

"Of course you get a say, Phoenix." Hera points to one of the chairs in front of her desk, urging Phoenix to sit and talk. "This is just a prototype. Before anything goes into mass production I intend to make sure that you're all right with it."

The startled look that Phoenix lets slip makes it clear this wasn't the answer he was expecting.

"Mr. Wright, you know that the L-ACT is attempting to improve the justice system, right?" Hera speaks gently. "That I am doing everything I can to help make things better? Why would I want to intentionally do something that hurts you, given that basis?"

"I'm not actually a part of the justice system." Phoenix's smile is the one that he has perfected over the last seven years, the enigmatic, unreadable, faintly bitter smile that Hera has seen too much of over the years. "So hurting me wouldn't be the same as hurting the system."

No, but hurting Phoenix would be hurting many people who are a part of the legal system, who are integral to it—becoming more integral by the moment, if Miles succeeds in his bid for the Chief Prosecutor position. That isn't what Phoenix needs to hear right now, though. "And you think it wouldn't matter to us if we hurt you in the pursuit of our goals?"

"I think that for the vast majority of people currently out there, the saying is, and I quote several different sources on this, 'the end justifies the means'." The bitter smile widens, and Phoenix slouches down further in his chair.

This is what Hera has wanted to talk to Phoenix about, what she strongly suspects he needs to talk to someone about, but she couldn't very well force him to make an appointment with her. "You know that I don't believe that, Phoenix."

Phoenix looks away from her, and for a moment she thinks he isn't going to answer. It would be his right, of course, to choose not to confide in her—to soldier through on his own strength, and he would probably, almost certainly, be fine. He is a strong man, and he has an amazing support network that he has built up over the years, and if anyone can handle the bitter taste of a tainted victory in silence, it would be him.

But she doesn't want him to have to. If she is right about what has been happening to him over the last few weeks, since his spectacular victory against Kristoph Gavin and the adoption of the Jurist System for any trial where the death penalty may be considered, then perhaps she will be able to help.

"I know that you don't believe the ends justify the means." Phoenix's voice is quiet, calm, but with an underlying note of exhaustion that tells Hera she is on the right track. "And neither do Edgeworth or a lot of the others. But enough people do... I mean, hell, they're teaching it in the schools. At Themis Academy—the heart of the legal system, where we train the next generation, and we're telling them that it's hopeless, that the Dark Age of the Law means that they just have to do whatever they feel's right and screw the system and damn the evidence because it might all be forged anyway."

Phoenix presses the heel of his right hand to the bridge of his nose, his eyes closing, his shoulders slumped in abject dejection after the outburst.

"This isn't how you thought things would be, is it?" Hera asks the question gently, reaching out to rearrange Rhiny's little arms so that his hands are up by his ears, a look of misery and horror.

"No." Phoenix opens his eyes slowly, and he looks more defeated now than she has ever seen him in the seven years of their acquaintanceship. "It's nothing like how I thought it would be."

Hera nods. "What did you think would happen?"

"I don't know." Phoenix's shoulders rise in a slow, tired shrug. "I've been so focused on just getting to this point, getting to the goal—taking down Kristoph, trying to make sure nothing like this happens again—that I don't think I ever really stopped to wonder what it would be like once I reached the end."

"Perhaps that's the biggest problem." Hera reaches out again, moving Rhiny's hands down, to clasp sadly in front of him as tears perpetually trickle from his eyes. "Thinking that there would be an end to it—that once you brought down Kristoph and exposed the truth, once you changed the system, it would be finished."

"It never ends." Phoenix's eyes are focused on Rhiny, watching in what looks like horrified fascination as she manipulates the little toy. "The reporters change, but the questions always remain the same. Am I certain I didn't have anything to do with forging evidence? Do I think what I've done will really make a difference to the legal system? Do I think anything can end the Dark Age of the Law? Do I think Klavier Gavin should have been indicted along with his brother? As if revenge against Klavier when I've already sentenced his brother to death could be justice, and not some hideous nightmare. As if I can do anything, when they're making me retake the bar exam if I want my badge back. Because the legal system's changed a lot in seven years, don't you know?"

Phoenix's smile is wide and the bitterest Hera has ever seen it, and she bites back words that won't be helpful. I'm sorry. You don't deserve this. I wish I could make it stop. Phoenix has plenty of other people who will give him sympathy; that isn't her place, not her duty or her privilege.

"I barely passed the bar the first time. Mia stayed up with me for a solid week, quizzing me, giving me tips because it hadn't been all that long since she'd taken it..." Phoenix shakes his head. "And now I get to do it all again, only this time it's been years since I've had a class, years since I knew any of the ridiculous minutiae that they're going to have on it."

"You're afraid you're not going to pass?"

"No. I can do it." Phoenix covers his eyes with a hand. "It's going to be awful, I am not going to be good company to be around for a few weeks while I study, but I can do it. Hey, maybe Athena would study with me... she's getting ready to take the bar in a few weeks."

"Athena?" Hera raises one eyebrow, trying to place the name.

"Athena Cykes." Phoenix smiles, a small, tiny, pleased expression that Hera is used to seeing only when he is talking about Trucy or Apollo. "She's... well, she's one of my finds from Europe. She's been studying to be a lawyer. Barely eighteen and almost there. She's brilliant, driven—I've already extended an invitation to her to join the practice, and I think she's going to take it."

"That's wonderful. I look forward to seeing her in action." Hera smiles at Phoenix, glad to see and hear that not everything has been difficult for him the last few weeks. "Will you be standing with her when she has her first trial, or will that be Apollo's place?"

"Apollo, probably. Even if I have my badge back by then... well, I don't want her first trial being too tainted by association with me." Phoenix's smile vanishes. "I guess I thought I wouldn't have to hide, once it was over—that I would be able to go out in public again and be happy when people recognized me. That the general public would be happy to see me, to know that I was never a fraud, that I've devoted the last seven years to trying to fix things still. That the prosecutors who were so smug about me having cheated to beat them would realize I never cheated, they just lost because the truth will win out, if people are just determined enough." Phoenix's arms are crossed in front of his chest, and his breathing hitches just slightly. "Seems I was wrong on all counts."

"No, you weren't." Hera shakes her head, speaking as firmly as she can, willing the man sitting across from her to believe her. "There are a lot of people who are very happy to learn about what happened—to learn what you've done. Did you know that there are at least three on-line petitions right now asking for you to be reinstated?"

"Three?" Phoenix blinks, staring at her in bewildered wonderment. "Why wouldn't they all just sign the same one?"

"Because on-line activism can be extremely disconnected and I don't think the originators of each realized what the others were doing. A lot of people have signed all three." Hera had eagerly signed all three, had passed around links to her friends and colleagues. She knows, from talking with Miles, that they are unlikely to get a better offer than the one Phoenix has already been given—retake the bar, pass, and be reinstated—but it never hurt to keep up the pressure. "You have quite the fanbase that would be eager to see you with a badge on your lapel again, standing proud at the defense's bench."

Phoenix grimaces. "I don't want a fanbase. Okay, that's actually a bit of a lie, I don't mind having fans, but that's not what we need. We just need people interested in justice."

"Well, you've certainly done a good job setting that up, too. Apollo's popularity has risen enormously since the Misham trial."

Phoenix stares at her for long, incredulous moments before bursting out laughing. "You—you didn't—you did! Are you allowed to do that?"

"Make a terrible pun off your protege's name? You do it all the time." Hera smiles, crossing her right leg over her left as she steeples her fingers.

"No, I'm pretty sure there's got to be a clause somewhere that says psychiatrists are not allowed to make jokes, especially bad pun jokes, during sessions."

"Is this a session now?" Hera arches an eyebrow. "Can I expect to be paid for this?"

Phoenix shifts his head back and forth in a gesture of uncertainty. "I'm sure I can ask Miles to pay for it, and he'll do it while looking at me in exasperation."

"Phoenix, I was just teasing. There's no charge for this." Hera adjusts the little rhino's hands one more time, so that they are both pointing to the sky, forming a Y shape. "We're just having a friendly chat."

"You're just giving away your services, because Miles has somehow gotten you really emotionally invested in making sure the legal system and everyone in it is psychologically healthy." Phoenix flashes a smile that looks more like the expression he wore in the papers eight years ago—honest, pleased, open. "And I appreciate it, and you giving me a chance to vent, but I'm all right. Still. Despite everyone's worries, fears, and best efforts."

"I believe you." Hera does, too. If Phoenix were going to break, he would have done it before this. "I believe that you will continue to be a wonderful father to Trucy and a wonderful mentor for Apollo."

"Apollo would probably argue with you about that last point, depending on when you ask him." Phoenix sighs. "And I would probably deserve it, honestly."

"There's nothing quite like admitting to your own failings."

"I never said it was a failing, just that I'd probably deserve it." Phoenix flashes another honest smile, and he has relaxed, finally, no longer slouching but rather reclining comfortably in his chair. "I know I've been rather infuriating for him to work with at times. Some of it was necessary; some of it was because I enjoy watching him go after things. He's fierce. Headstrong. Determined. Certain that he can see justice done."

"He reminds you of yourself, a bit."

It's more guess and intuition than anything Hera has the facts to back up, but Phoenix doesn't argue with her, just shrugs and looks away. "He's a great defense attorney. A great kid. And he honestly probably doesn't need me as a mentor anymore. I think he's found his footing. He knows what he needs to do and how to do it."

"He's still in your employ, though." Hera smiles. Though she has so far had no need to see the young attorney professionally—will hopefully never need to see him professionally—she has watched his career with fascination, knowing how important he is to Phoenix Wright. "If he didn't still want your guidance and knowledge, he could easily find someone else to work for, given all that's happened."

"I'm not so sure about that. He did send his first boss to jail." Phoenix rubs at his chin, as though touching an old ache. "And he's not above hitting someone, if he feels they deserve it."

Hera's eyebrows try to merge with her hairline. "He's struck you?"

"I had it coming. I taunted him after having him use false evidence." Phoenix slides down a few inches in his chair.

"But..." Hera tries to fit this new piece of information in with the rest of what she knows about Phoenix—what she has learned about Apollo by proxy and report. "Why?"

Phoenix's gaze slides to the left, a sign that he is uncomfortable—that he is ashamed, she realizes. "Because he was all enamored with me. Said that I had been one of his heroes, one of the reasons he followed the path that he did."

"Oh, Phoenix..." Hera reaches towards the man across the desk before she can stop the gesture. "That... really isn't helpful, you know? Taking out your frustration and sorrow on him."

"I know." Phoenix nods. "Just like I know that I need to stop feeling so damn guilty about how long it took me to figure out how to beat Kristoph. But sometimes... sometimes I don't make the best decisions in the world."

"None of us are perfect all the time. And you've certainly got reason enough to be bitter and angry. But don't ever take those emotions out on Apollo, all right?" Hera leans forward. "He's already been through enough on his own—what he went through with Kristoph, being entangled in the trial for the Jurist System without knowing what was going on... go easy on him."

"I will." Phoenix spreads his right hand open, palm up. "I'm not going to do anything to hurt Apollo. The worst I've made him do since the trial is clean the toilet."

"Good." Hera smiles at the obvious affection shining from Phoenix as he talks about Apollo. "And go easy on yourself too, yeah? You've been through a lot in the last few months."

"I guess." Phoenix sighs, then quirks an eyebrow at her. "Like being turned into a rhinoceros?"

"I would say that the toy is the least of your problems, but if you really hate it I can veto the whole process." It will be a little bit more difficult than that, especially given how excited some of the L-ACT members are about the project, but she will make it happen, if she has to.

"Why can't it be something a little more... dashing?" Phoenix has one hand gingerly on each of the toy's arms, turning it this way and that. "Maybe something like... I don't know... a fox?"

"Because foxes are associated with cleverness and trickery. Which wouldn't necessarily be improper—you can be very clever, and you've learned how to work the system as well as anyone—but isn't exactly what we're going for." Hera balances her chin on one upturned palm as she watches Phoenix play with the rhinoceros. "Rhinos are majestic, endangered species. And he looks very cute."

"He's crying." Phoenix raises wounded but dry eyes to study her. "I don't really want to be seen as the crying attorney, you know?"

"He's emoting. It's important to make emotions obvious and difficult to misinterpret in a situation like this." Hera turns the rhino so that he's facing her. "Besides, aren't even the most masculine of men allowed a single manly tear?"

Phoenix groans. "You're planning on putting this in toy stores, aren't you? On shelves? Where people can see it? Where Trucy could see it?"

"Mr. Wright, you and Edgeworth really need to accept that Trucy is a remarkable young woman who, despite past trauma, is extremely hard to shake." Hera gentles her tone as Phoenix's back stiffens. He and Miles and Maya are probably the best protection anyone could ever ask for, and they have ensured that Trucy has suffered as little as possible despite Phoenix's situation. "Trucy knows now, Phoenix. She knows everything that happened that day—why it happened, her role in what happened."

Everyone knows, the story spilled across every television and newspaper.

Hera turns the rhino so that he's facing Phoenix again. "Has knowing changed her relationship with you?"

"No." Phoenix's mouth twitches into a hesitant smile. "She's been wonderful—handling the press better than I have, honestly."

"She's a performer. She thrives on spotlight and knows how to handle it." Hera dances the little toy closer to Phoenix. "Besides, what daughter doesn't want to have a stuffed version of their father to hug and show off?"

"The sixteen year old kind." Phoenix bites his lower lip for a moment before shaking his head. "You think it might do some good?"

"Yes." Hera nods. "I wouldn't have let it go this far if I didn't."

"All right, fine." Phoenix stands abruptly. "But I get a free one, so that I can give it to Trucy."

"Done." Hera smiles. "Thank you, Mr. Wright."

"I guess it's really not that big a deal, given everything else." Phoenix shakes his head, and he is smiling again, an expression that isn't quite his new bitter grimace but also isn't quite his old grin. "And thanks, Hera. For taking the time to talk with me."

"Anytime, Phoenix Wright." Hera stands herself, reaching across the desk and shaking Phoenix's hand.

She waits until Phoenix has left before settling back into her seat.

Any time she can help, anything that she can do for these people who are bleeding to make their world a better place... it will be small enough payment for what they have done, after all.