Of Sunflowers and Memories
A Phoenix/Iris Story by DahliaXKristoph

Prompt: Gardening

Author's Note: I prove to myself I can write fluffy things.

Who knew?

This has AJ spoilers.

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“Mommy! Mommy, look at this one!”

Iris put down the seeds she’d been holding, turning to stare instead at her adopted daughter, and the newest member of the Wright family.

“What is it, Trucy Dear?”

Trucy looked up at Iris, her nine-year-old eyes sparkling with excitement. She shoved the potted plant in Iris’s face. “Look at this one, Mommy!”

Iris laughed. “That’s a sunflower, Trucy,” she explained kindly. “See the pretty petals? They’re yellow, like the sun’s rays.”

“It’s wonderful. Like magic,” Trucy said, her child-like voice filled with confidence. “Daddy’s going to love it.”

“Let’s hope so,” Iris agreed. The yard of their new house—Phoenix Wright, Iris herself, and now Trucy—was so barren and overgrown with weeds that it had been nearly impossible to distinguish weed from grass. Iris and Trucy had taken an emergency trip to the local greenhouse to buy plans and pretty flowers to decorate their new “garden.”

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Thirty minutes and fifty dollars later, Trucy and Iris lugged the four bags of seeds and plant sprouts back to the car. …Well, Iris did. Trucy still held the sunflower in both hands, carrying it delicately, as if holding the rarest of trophies.

“Mommy?” Trucy said as she got into the car. Whilst Feenie had still stubbornly refused to get his own license, Iris had finally surrendered to the inevitable and gotten her own driver’s license a few months ago.

“Yes, Trucy?”

“You aren’t my real mommy, are you.” It was a statement, not a question.

Iris’s hands shock as she fingered her seatbelt. She wasn’t used to talking about this. “No,” she said, finally. “I’m not.”

“And Daddy isn’t my real daddy, either.”

A lump formed in Iris’s throat. She attempted to swallow it, with little success. “No.”

“Oh.” Trucy paused, thinking. “Mommy, where are my real parents?”

“I-I-I-I” Iris’s voice faltered. “I’m not sure, honey.”

“Oh.” Trucy’s eyes closed; her tiny body shivered with deep exhaustion. “I hope my real parents are as nice as you and Daddy.” She yawned.

“I love you, Mommy.”

Iris took her eyes off the road for a moment to gaze at the now-sleeping child…her daughter. “I love you, too,” she whispered, ruffling Trucy’s hair softly.

She turned back to the road, her eyes welling up with the promise of unshed tears. She bit back the memories threatening to overwhelm her; she tried desperately not to think about Zak Gramarye, Thalassa Gramarye, and the day she might have to say “Good-bye” to her beautiful daughter.

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She was kneeling in the so-called “garden,” planting the seeds in tiny little plots. It gave Iris comfort, watching the seeds, digging out neat little holes for them. Nature was so simple—all you needed to do was give it some water, dirt, food, and sunlight, and in return it yield the most beautiful and wonderful of plants.

She’d given her daughter—for, in truth, she thought of Trucy as her daughter, now—food, water, a home, and most of all, love.

Would she see her daughter as a beautiful, grown-up plant, spreading her sunflower-like rays around to better everyone she touched? Would Iris be there, standing as Trucy’s “Mommy,” watching her grow up?

Or would it be Thalassa Gramarye, Trucy’s “real Mommy”?

Iris looked down, and realized the dirt beneath her was wet. She stared, puzzled, at the dirt—she hadn’t watered the seedlings, yet.

…It took her a moment to realize the ground was wet with her tears.

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She was still crying a few moments later when she felt a pair of arms wrap around her waist. She leaned into the arms, smelling the wonderful cigar, almond, and clove smell that was her Feenie.

“Mmm,” she breathed in, enjoying this warm moment.

“The garden looks nice,” he whispered, his mouth whispering into her ear.

Ignoring the spine-tingling rush that came with the closeness of Phoenix’s words, Iris concentrated instead on their meaning.
“Thanks,” she said, smiling. “It’s coming along well, I think.”

“I’m sure it’s going to be beautiful,” Phoenix reassured her. “You have that ‘magic touch’ with flowers—you can make anything grow.”

“It’s not difficult,” Iris said easily, laughing. “This garden was a mess before we moved in!”

“True,” Phoenix said, his voice turning a bit more serious. “Somehow, Miss Iris, you have turned a so-called ‘mess’ into a blooming and wonderful garden. …You’ve overcome so many challenges in your life, Rissy—I should know by now a few weeds aren’t going to stop you.”

He kissed her ear. “You’re a beautiful person, Iris.”

Feeling her face flush at Phoenix’s words, Iris immediately looked for a distraction. She pointed at the sunflower, placed prominently at the center of the garden. “That’s Trucy’s favorite, you know. She was sure you’d love it.”

Phoenix smiled at the sunflower. “How perfect for Trucy,” he said, then reached his head up and kissed the top of Iris’s hair.

“But I always had a preference for irises, myself.”