Shot in the Dark

by Trychtopus

Summary:

What if Phoenix found out that Edgeworth was still alive before he was supposed to? How would a tenuous and unexpected relationship between the two have reshaped the events of 3-5? P/E, altered timeline. Obvious spoilers throughout TnT.

Notes:

A/N: Hey. A few quick notes about this fic: I haven’t written fanfiction in over EIGHT YEARS, y’all. I’m not even sure what it was that bit me hard enough to bring me back, but here we are! To make up for such a long absence, I knocked this monster out. It is complete and will be uploaded in its entirety up front, all 122 pages, just shy of 70,000 words. Some creative liberties were taken with locations and timelines, but nothing too serious. Standard disclaimers apply.

Chapter 1: Chapter 1

It was the type of day outside that could sow sadness in the heart of the sun. A funereal heather sky blanketed the city and wept fat raindrops on those below, relentless in its onslaught of misery. Phoenix Wright watched idly as the downpour soaked the asphalt outside and distantly wondered if it was the weather affecting his mood or the other way around. The rain traveled down the hill in great sliding sheets, occasionally torn asunder by a car ripping through the glassine surface. His ears caught the gentle pattern of droplets that made their way onto the office window and he stared past them, feeling unmotivated.

 

His thoughts traveled, as usual, to his old friend and rival. Where the thought of him might once have inspired hope or determination, however, a bitter ache rose deep within him. He fought valiantly to prevent it from turning to anger, to keep the tide of resentment at bay, but each passing hour wore him just a little further down. His fingers clenched threateningly against the handle on his coffee mug. He had always prided himself on being a patient man, but if anyone could truly bring it out of him, if anyone could really bait him into a reaction, it was Miles Edgeworth. Unsurprising, he sneered to himself, given that the man yearned for perfection in all aspects of his life. Why wouldn’t he so expertly control the feelings of those around him, as well?

 

The coffee clutched in his hand had long since gone cold, trembling gently within its ceramic confines as he tried halfheartedly to relax his grip. He briefly entertained the thought of simply tracking the man down and popping him one good one, right in the mouth, as payback for all he’d put the attorney through. What would Edgeworth do, he wondered, if he settled it that way? Could he take a punch? Would he hit back? Phoenix held back a snort and watched with disinterest as another car sped past, splashing a filthy puddle up onto the sidewalk. With his luck, Edgeworth would have taken up bare-fisted boxing as a hobby to compliment his multilingual prosecuting career. Probably titled in it.

 

His mood soured further. It was impossible for him to prevent it, really. His chest was heavy with years of effort and struggle. Seventeen years he had worked tirelessly to track down his friend. If he closed his eyes, he compulsively saw the five horrifying words that had neatly stained the expensive parchment left centered on a polished desk. It had stopped his heart cold then, and even now it caused sorrow to well threateningly in his belly. He wished desperately that he could erase the memory from his mind, if nothing else than to stop seeing it in his nightmares. Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth chooses death. His eyes slid over to his desk where he knew the letter resided still, hidden under ample layers of paperwork and file folders. It had taken a long time to convince Gumshoe to hand it over.

 

Of all the things the man could have written, he chose to paint himself as dead. It hurt Phoenix to wonder what had been going through the man's mind as he had scrawled the words. Did he even think about his friends? Did it ever occur to him what they might believe? He was certainly smart enough to draw a logical deduction from his own actions. He did it in court all the time given only the barest minimum of clues, so what was it? His mind wandered briefly to their interaction following the prosecutor’s double acquittal. They had been comfortable, almost amiable, as they fielded the overwhelming congratulations from the rest of the team. He remembered thinking that it was finally over, that they could finally begin rebuilding what they had so delicately set in place as children. It had taken a tremendous tragedy and countless hours of emotional exhaustion but… He finally had his friend back.

 

Weeks later, he had received a phone call that took precedence over any other memory he could recall. “You, uh, might wanna sit down for this, pal...” He winced against the words, as vivid as if he were hearing it for the first time despite having remembered the hesitant phrase hundreds, if not thousands, of times since that call. “...We, uh... We found a letter from Mister Edgeworth...”

 

It was much easier to strive for the low-hanging fruit and mock his childhood friend's success than to try and figure out what to do moving forward. Now that the undiluted, murderous pain and sorrow had come to pass in the last several months, it was easier to embrace the anger and betrayal and personal projection. Deep down he knew that he was being petty by ignoring the very real struggles the man had obviously endured, but it simply felt too good to resent him right now.

 

He sipped absentmindedly at his beverage, grimacing at the temperature but too stubborn to heat it back up. For all his adolescent years of searching and calling and writing letters, of abandoning his dreams to pursue law school, of studying for the bar exam, of the raw terror underlying his first case, of Mia's death... For all of it, this was his reward? He scowled. The unfamiliar expression carved wrinkles into his youthful face, awkward in their newness, and he hated the reflection he saw in the window but could not find it in himself to erase it.

 

There was movement behind him. He turned, trying valiantly to soften his expression, and spotted Maya fussing over Charlie, their office plant. She was maneuvering a large pitcher of water around the pervasive leaves in an attempt to water the tree but was doing a poor job of masking the fact that she was more interested in checking on him instead. As water splashed over the expensive decorative pot, he sighed and tried to smile. “You spill any more of that on the carpet and it'll start to look like it does outside.”

 

As predicted, the medium squawked in surprise and a great deal more water splashed onto the floor. Maya whirled, tucking the pitcher behind her back, and put on her best thousand-watt smile. “It'll dry in no time! Besides, if I didn't water this thing, nobody would.” She paused for a moment to see if her cheer had any effect in lightening his mood. Seconds crawled by, marked by the pervasive ticking of the cheap office clock above them. Her smile faltered. “Nick—”

 

“I'm fine, Maya.”

 

“You're not fine.” The pitcher found its way onto the floor, still partially filled with water. He turned back to the window as she approached, wishing he were a better actor. How times had changed. “You've been like this for days. Ever since you saw Mr. Edg—”

 

“Don't say his name.”

 

An exasperated sigh accompanied a dramatic eye roll. “It's not a curse, you know! Ever since he came back you've been sulking around like a scolded child! I thought we were finally done with this!”

 

He was sorely tempted to cross his arms and realized it would only prove her point. It irritated him that she was right, and he didn't really have it in him to argue with her. When he said nothing, Maya padded over to him and laid a gentle hand on his forearm. His eyes trailed down and stared blankly at the short, pale fingers. He knew that she didn't deserve to weather his mood, and especially not for this long, but where he attempted to muster his usual spunk, he drew only a blank. It frustrated him and yet he was powerless against it. “I'm sorry.”

 

Maya paused in a rare moment of consideration. “I know you've spent most of your life trying to find him. And then you found him and he was a huge jerk. And just when you thought things were okay again, he—” her voice caught in her throat; she, too, had felt the pain of mourning too recently, “—well, I guess I would be pretty upset, too. What are you going to do now?”

 

“I don't know.” He searched his mind for an answer and came up with nothing. Right now, he was feeling betrayed and a little hurt, and he was tired. He thought it had finally been getting better, or at least a little easier, but now… He briefly recalled the moment he’d seen the other man in public, unaware that he’d been spotted. His back had been turned while he stood in line at a news cart, but Phoenix could have carved a statue of the other man from memory. All it took was the flash of fine, ashen hair in the wind and the shock of his signature red suit against the ocean of blacks and blues and his world had been flipped on its end once again. “I spent nearly two decades trying to reach out to him. As far as I'm concerned, I think it's his turn, now.”

 

“You really think he'll make it up to you?”

 

Phoenix mulled the idea over. Miles Edgeworth had never been one to wear his heart on his sleeve, even before tragedy had originally parted them in their childhood. He had always been the stoic introvert, offering nothing more or less than he felt was absolutely necessary for the topic at hand. Still, it wasn't like he didn't care about people. It was obvious, at least to Phoenix, that there were those the prosecutor considered friends and looked out for them in his own way. On the other hand, after almost eighteen years of perhaps deliberately convincing himself otherwise, it was quite possible they were right back at square one. He shrugged. “Who knows? Edgeworth is a genius intellectually, but emotionally...? He might not even realize how much it upset everyone. For all I know he could send a notarized letter of apology for his absence and consider it a done deal.”

 

To his surprise, there was a small giggle next to him. When he glanced down, Maya spread her hands in front of her and jutted her elbows out, as if reading a very official letter on a large desk. “To Phoenix Wright, Attorney at Law,” she took a dramatically deep breath, “please accept my deepest apologies for my recent trespasses,” her voice was overly deep and sharp, mocking the cultured tongue of the prosecutor, “for I had not considered that faking my own death and running away to Europe for nearly a year would be a cause for such upset. Sincerely,” she pretended to dip a pen into a bottle of ink and signed the invisible letter with a dramatic flourish, “Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth.”

 

Despite himself, he laughed out loud. The more he entertained the idea, the more he really could imagine the other man producing such a letter. He draped an arm around the spirit medium's shoulders and gave her a brief squeeze. “Thanks, Maya. If you bump into him, maybe you could offer up your services as a ghostwriter.” It felt good to grin at her. “Even if you are a bit rude.”

 

“If we don't pick up a case soon, I may have to. It's almost time for bills to start coming in again.”

 

“You always say that, and yet we continue to make it just fine.”

 

“Maybe you could use your spare time to try and reach out to him.”

 

“Or I could set myself on fire.”

 

“Nick!” A short huff of air revealed that she was getting fed up with him. He supposed even Maya had her limits. “Honestly, the two of you act like you never moved past the fourth grade. Fine.” He could hear the gentle rustling of her clothes as she stormed away from him and began digging around in the desk. “I'll be old and gray before Mister Edgeworth figures out how to say he's sorry, and you apparently are happy to sit there and pout about it.” He felt himself growing a bit nervous as she held up her cell phone triumphantly. Maya was only this motivated for two things: burgers, and—

 

“I'm gonna get this ball rolling, myself!”

 

—and butting into the affairs of others. His body moved of its own accord, coffee sloshing over the rim of his mug as he leapt toward the girl. The very last thing in the world he wanted to have happen was for Maya to contact Edgeworth in an effort to rekindle the two of them. She was surprisingly nimble, however, and shoved the imposing leather desk chair in between them to thwart his efforts to snag her phone. He slid the coffee mug onto the desk and rounded the chair, arms outstretched, and watched in horror as she placed the phone up to her ear. “Maya, do not—“

 

“Hello, is this the prosecutor's office? Is Mister Edgeworth in?”

 

He felt a growl let loose from his throat. Please don't be there, please be anywhere else...

 

“Oh, I see, that's too bad...” Maya's face fell, causing Phoenix to cheer inwardly. “Yes, please, if you don't mind. It's Maya Fey.”

 

He ran his fingers through his hair, wondering just what kind of message she planned to leave. If he devoted half a second of thought to it, he allowed himself to believe that the chances of Edgeworth actually returning her call were slim to none, if he even got it. He bitterly recalled the hundreds of messages he must have left over the years begging for any kind of contact, just a sign that he was alive and okay...

 

“Hi, Mister Edgeworth, it's Maya Fey...”

 

He could feel his teeth grinding against each other and found that he was surprisingly anxious. Despite the fact that he knew she was only speaking to a machine, he wondered how the other man would react to her words. Did he even realize that they knew he was back yet? It wasn't like they had spoken to him... He was never unfriendly toward Maya, either, but this was taking things ten steps further than a professional relationship... He could see Edgeworth sitting behind his imposing, expertly polished desk, resting his chin on tented fingertips while he listened to the message.

 

“...you see, we're in a real bind because Nick can't get his head out of his own you-know-what...”

 

He turned away from her and glared at the window. It had only been a few seconds that he had seen the other man, but it was impossible to forget. He had spent most of his life remembering the big details and wondering about the small ones, wondering what his friend had turned into, what he looked like now... Having met him in court the first time and seeing just how kind the years had been to him, despite the severity of his trained glower, Phoenix had been breathless for more reasons than one. Of course he had expected to recognize his old friend well enough to pick him out of a crowd, but puberty had hit him like a truck.

 

“...so if you could maybe talk to him somehow, that would be really great. Okay, hope you're well, and welcome back! We've missed you!”

 

The distant beep of the call ending snapped him out of his musings. “I can't believe you did that.”

 

“What's the worst that can happen?” He saw her reflection in the window smirk at him, hands on her hips. “Even if he never calls you back, it's no worse than when he was dead, right?”

 

This gave him pause. Was it? At least when he thought that the man was dead, there was a reason he wasn't hearing from him. Now that he knew the man had been alive and well the entire time, however... Why hadn’t he reached out? It had been months that had passed without so much as an email. Maybe that was part of why this hurt almost as bad as when he had left in the first place. It was just like before when he had watched from the shadows as Miles, clutching his childhood dog, climbed into the mysterious limousine and then he was gone… He rolled his eyes. “He had every opportunity to talk to me this whole time, Maya. I wouldn't hold your breath.”

 

“Well, maybe he was afraid to, you know. Maybe he thinks you were mad at him for leaving and you wouldn't want to hear from him. That would make me not want to call someone.” She walked up behind him while he was still lost in thought and pulled the corners of his mouth back. “Might wanna start practicing that smile of yours again, if you want him to believe it.”

 

“Ack!” He flailed briefly and worked his lips back and forth while glaring at her playfully, trying to think of an appropriate comeback. There was an inkling of truth to what she had said, though. He supposed it was very likely that Edgeworth hadn't reached out because he felt it would be inappropriate. As far as his justification, Phoenix could probably come up with fifteen different reasons the man would assume his closest friends would be upset about hearing from him, ranging from the sensible to the asinine. He sighed. As much as he wanted to continue holding this grudge, it probably would fall on his shoulders to at least start the repairs to their relationship. Again.

 

He wasn't entirely sure he had it in him this time, even if his anger was ebbing by the minute.

 

The distant tick, tick, tick of the clock on the wall alerted him to a very distinct lack of noise in the room and he turned slowly, suspicious. One of the things for which he had grown most grateful was having Maya around. Not only did she offer some...occasionally valuable insight in court, but she was simply fun to be around. He knew he had a tendency to get stuck inside of his own head, and thankfully, Maya had a talent for causing enough of a ruckus that it typically stopped his brooding in his tracks. Unfortunately for her, it made it all the more obvious when she was getting up to no good, since silence was generally not her strongest attribute. “Maya? Where'd you go?”

 

As he turned the corner into the hallway, he caught the spirit medium just as she snapped her phone shut. He felt his stomach drop a smidge further when she gave him yet another winning grin. “I think I figured it out, Nick!”

 

“Figured what out, exactly?”

 

“How we're going to solve this issue.” She slid the phone into the belt of her robes and put her hands on her hips, resolute. As he opened his mouth, Maya interrupted the attorney. “And before you say anything, no, that was not Mr. Edgeworth.”

 

“Who was it?”

 

“Someone who has as much interest as I do in getting the two of you back together!”

 

“Geeze, when you put it like that, you make it sound like we're a couple!” Despite himself, his cheeks reddened. Thankfully, Maya didn't notice.

 

“Well, you're partners, aren't you? At least you were. That’s close enough, isn’t it?” The spirit medium made a show of patting him on his shoulder as she passed by, heading for the door. “You just let the old Maya News Network get to work for you. We'll have you two screaming at each other across the courtroom again in no time.”

 

“Lovely.” He fought to keep from cringing. The “Maya News Network” was Maya's self-titled gossip chain that, as far as he was aware, was essentially her and maybe two or three other people sticking their noses into the affairs of others. Still, he knew that she meant well, and despite the fact that he found it difficult to believe that Edgeworth would be amenable to a young girl's intervention in his personal life, he was at least willing to watch it play out. After all, he mused, what was the worst that could happen? The man had already been dead to him for a year. No reason to be upset over the decedent being mildly inconvenienced for a little while.

 

Shaking his head, he trundled over to the couch and sat heavily, lacing his fingers behind his head. Although he felt like he knew his friend’s mannerisms fairly well, it was difficult to come up with a list of reasons why the man would have returned from his life overseas. After all, the life he had left behind here was wrought with terrible accusations of just about every dirty trick in the book shy of perjury, not to mention the inquisitions and politics and who knows what else that had followed the drama surrounding Chief Gant’s surprising involvement. If Phoenix were honest with himself, he wasn’t sure he would have come back, either. Edgeworth didn’t have many close friends, and even fewer material obligations. He had money and connections and linguistic capabilities… so why did he come back?

 

A very small voice in the back of his head whispered to him.

 

What if he came back for me?

 

He snorted audibly and closed his eyes. Ridiculous. He could admit, if only to himself, that on his worst nights where sleep eluded him and the temptation to drink until it didn’t hurt anymore gnawed in his belly, he would allow himself to daydream about Edgeworth coming to his senses and coming back to his friend. He would even admit that on the rarest occasions, he would let those daydreams get out of hand, spiraling madly on to different endings where the prosecutor usually came back and admitted his feelings for Phoenix in a grand, tragically romantic gesture and they made up and lived happily ever after whether the defense attorney indulged his friend’s affections or not. It was easy for him to dream up happy endings and sappy stories and triumphant homecomings because he’d been doing it his entire life about the same person, and yet, they never came true.

 

But what if this time they did?

 

He flinched against his own thoughts and tried with a terrible force to quash the hopeless optimist within himself. It was a dangerous path, he knew, to allow these kinds of thoughts to gain footing. Especially now, and especially with Edgeworth. The logical side of him recognized that even if the stoic prosecutor had intended to address Phoenix, it probably wasn’t because he missed him or his friendship or anything of the sort, no matter how badly he wished it to be true. Allowing himself to even cautiously entertain those thoughts only set him up for more disappointment, more silence on the other end of the phone, more nights wondering why he even bothered anymore.

 

His chest heaved a great sigh and he stood, preparing to head upstairs to his apartment, when he glanced out of his window at the darkening horizon. While the office and the apartment weren’t much to write home about, he had always enjoyed the view from both. The building was set on a relatively steep hill that lead down to the ocean at the bottom, treating onlookers to technicolor sunsets and dramatic storms. Off in the distance against one of the walking paths he spotted a man bundled up in a flowing pea coat that was flapping away in the wind of the storm. Rain still cut down from the sky and Phoenix could imagine that the person, whoever they were, must be completely soaked. He shook his head and squinted at them, impressed that at least somewhere out there apparently existed a human being whose mood was worse than his own.

 

Distantly, through the ceiling, he heard the familiar electric whine of whatever Samurai series Maya was stuck on this time around. Try as he might, he found it truly impossible to keep up with the various Samurais and their get-ups, but he found it somewhat endearing that his eccentric counterpart found them so fascinating. He figured it must be getting late if the series was starting and he turned away from the lone figure in the rain, briefly wishing them luck with whatever took them out into the storm.

 

As he traveled around the office furniture to flick off the light, he found it impossible not to wonder what Edgeworth was up to. Irrationally, he turned back to the window for just a moment and gazed across the room, hoping it wasn’t him out there in the downpour. Shaking his head at himself, he stepped out onto the walkway, locked the door, and headed up to bed.

Chapter 2: Chapter 2

The police precinct was abuzz as always with serious faces stuffed into uniforms behind desks, the sound of furious typing and chatter and, somewhere in the back, raucous laughter echoing throughout the cramped floor. Maya glanced around nervously, feeling a bit unsettled given all the negativity that had surrounded her various visits here. Pearl’s hand felt tiny held in her own and she stretched up onto her toes, yearning to find her target quickly.

 

Just as she was about to go reaching for her cell phone to do it the most efficient way, one of the officers glanced up from his papers and fixed her with a hard stare. He was obviously there to greet visitors, as his desk sat behind a taller veranda that was positively littered with flyers, signs, warnings, and community notices. There was an imposing structure next to the desk that Maya remembered was a metal detector. She was grateful that she didn’t wear any jewelry.

 

“Help you, miss?”

 

She felt Pearl shrink behind her as she attempted to paint a smile over her trepidation. “Ah, yeah! We’re here to um, see Detective Gumshoe… I had…um, an appointment?”

 

The officer maintained his stare at her as seconds ticked by, apparently sizing her up. She wasn’t entirely sure what kinds of people just randomly showed up here, but she was willing to bet it probably wasn’t two young ladies in spirit medium robes, and she hoped that she didn’t come off as completely weird. This just has to happen everywhere we go, doesn’t it… Shouldn’t they be used to us showing up here by now?! The officer nudged his coffee cup aside and grabbed a clipboard from the slide-out drawer in his desk. “Name?”

 

“Uh, Maya. Maya Fey. And Pearl Fey, too.” When the officer raised an eyebrow at the second name, Maya pulled her cousin out from behind her. Nonplussed, the officer wrote their names on the clipboard along with a few other scribbles and replaced it in the drawer. “Secure any valuables and weapons in one of the lockers over there,” he gestured vaguely behind them, “and step through the metal detector on your way in.”

 

Fighting the urge to roll her eyes (do we have to do this EVERY time?!), Maya shook her head. “Didn’t bring anything with me, kind of used to coming here by now…”

 

Though she had hoped it might bring a smile from the rigid man in blue, the officer’s face remained serious. When she realized he was waiting for her to move forward through the secondary security measure, she detached herself from Pearl and moved under the threshold in an unnecessarily ostentatious flourish. “See? All clear. C’mon, Pearly, you’re next.”

 

Decidedly more reserved, the smaller of the Fey girls kept her hands at her sides and moved silently through the detector, unsure of what to expect but willing to follow Maya’s lead just the same. When both of them were safely on the other side, the officer behind the desk scribbled their names on two adhesive name tags with VISITOR prominently labeled at the bottom. Maya took hers, first, securing it to her chest, and then helped Pearl with hers. It looked comically large on the girl’s smaller frame, taking up most of the left side of her chest.

 

“Hey, Dick!” The officer’s voice bellowed above the bowed heads and made both mediums jump harshly. “Some pretty girl and her kid’s here to see you!”

 

Maya glared at him. “My kid!? How old do you think I am—”

Just then, she spotted Gumshoe’s head poke around the corner from the direction where she’d heard the laughter earlier. “Hey, pal!” Despite her irritation at being assumed a mother, she felt herself grin impulsively as he hustled through the maze of cubicles. Same as he ever was minus his scrappy overcoat, the detective finally caught up to her and gave his usual sideways smile. “C’mon, we can go back to my office and talk.”

 

“I hope it’s alright that I’ve got Pearly here with me,” she dragged the child back to her side, “she wants to help, too.”

 

“The more the merrier, I say!” He waved them toward him as he started off for his office, forcing the two of them to hustle to keep up with his long strides. As he walked, he talked over his shoulder, his deep, scratchy voice carrying easily over the din of the main floor. “Gotta say, I was a little surprised to hear from you, especially about this—oop, sorry, watch it—but I’m on board for hearing what you have to say—sorry, Chief, lemme just squeeze past ya here—if you can come up with something that will work.” He turned down a small, dark hallway and pushed open a door on his left. Maya could see that the frosted glass had borne many names over the years, all mostly scraped off when the detective’s predecessors had moved on. She noted with a bit of sadness that they had only managed to scrounge up the letters for Det. Dic G msho.

 

He flipped on the flickering, yellowed light above his desk and haphazardly shoved a sloppy pile of papers across the surface of his desk. There were two very worn upholstered chairs poised in front of the ancient office furniture. Maya helped Pearl up into one and delicately sat in the other, afraid to lean backwards for fear of tumbling out of it. Gumshoe sprawled easily into his tall leather chair and swirled to face them, arms wide with anticipation. “So talk to me, pals, what’s the plan?”

 

The spirit medium felt herself repressing a giggle while she drank in how at home the man looked surrounded by all his beat up hand-me-down things. Poor Detective Gumshoe, always getting the last pick… “We need to help Nick and Mr. Edgeworth. I don’t think they know how. I wanna have a party, but I’m gonna need your help.”

 

“A party, you say?” A meaty hand scrubbed at three-day-old stubble as Gumshoe considered the concept. “I wouldn’t say Mr. Edgeworth is one for social gatherings. What makes you think a party will do the trick?”

 

Despite the challenge, Maya sparkled. “Are you kidding? Parties are perfect for this sort of thing! With you and me there, there’s no way Mr. Edgeworth will be able to hide, and Nick can’t pout his way through with all his closest friends around. Then, after a little while, we all turn our backs and give them the chance to escape, and then BAM!” She smacked a fist into her open palm, causing both of her spectators to jump. “They’re stuck with each other! It can’t fail!”

 

Pearl chewed her thumbnail briefly before tugging on Maya’s sleeve. “Um, but, Mystic Maya… What will the party be about? Is it someone’s birthday?”

 

Maya looked askance at Gumshoe. “That’s where you come in, big guy.”

 

The detective grimaced. “Me?”

 

“Yep, you,” the spirit medium leaned her hands onto the massive, scarred desk, grinning conspiratorially. “You’re the one who’s closest to Edgeworth, right? So dig into his schedule and find out when he’s free. I already left him a voicemail letting him know I know he snuck back into the country. If you can figure out when he has a few hours open, we can throw him a surprise ‘Welcome Back’ party! B-Y-O-B!”

 

“I don’t know about that, pal—“

“Come on, you ol’ fuddy duddy. Where’s your sense of danger?” Maya sat back in the chair with a flourish, momentarily forgetting where she was. The old armchair groaned under the sudden assault and creaked to one side where a leg had been weakened by a screw making its way out of the base over all the years of punishment. The sudden shift in support drew an alarmed squeak from Maya as she whirled her arms to steady herself. When the imminent threat of certain death had passed, she immediately reverted to crossing her arms in victory and fixing the detective with a hard stare. “What’s the worst that can happen, anyway? C’mon.”

 

“There worst that can happen?” Gumshoe looked between Maya and Pearl for a moment, considering. “Other than being fired for muddling in Mr. Edgeworth’s personal affairs? Gosh, I don’t know, probably getting murdered by a furious prosecutor and his dopey rival--”

 

Maya didn’t back down. “Better to go down a hero!” Her eyes flashed. “Or would you rather I call Ms. Von Karma to help arrange things? I bet she’d be more than happy to lend a hand, if it meant—“

 

“Alright! Alright,” Gumshoe’s voice rang out over Maya’s bluff, “geeze. Just don’t say her name out loud again, okay, pal?” The two girls watched in mild sympathy as the detective ran his hands over his imposing biceps, shivering at the memory of the young woman’s whip having come down on him countless times. “Look, I’ll see what info I can dig up for you and give you a heads up. No promises. Edgeworth is a pretty busy guy and I swear it’s like he has a sixth sense for social gatherings so I wouldn’t be surprised if he finds a reason to skip out.”

 

“Hooray! Gumshoe, you’re the greatest! I knew we could depend on you!” Maya leaned across the desk as best she could and wrapped the detective’s head in an aggressive hug. Despite his attempts to appear gruff, Gumshoe grinned and leaned into the embrace, sputtering a bit when the medium pecked him on the cheek.

 

“Ah, ho ho, well, um, you know… You know I’m a sucker for punishment, anyway…” He rubbed at the back of his head as Maya sat back down, crimson red. “But I gotta ask, pal, what happens if this whole thing blows up? Pretty risky move to just cram everyone in a room together and hope things work out.”

 

“That’s impossible.”

 

Two pairs of surprised eyes fell upon little Pearl, who was rolling up her sleeve in determination.

 

“Mr. Nick and Mr. Edgeworth, they’re… They’re two halves of the same whole!” Her hand trembled where it held her sleeve up. “There’s no way it can fail because this is the way things are meant to be!”

 

“Hear that, Gumshoe?” Maya smirked at the man across from her. “Got any evidence to the contrary you’d like to show?”

 

The detective snorted and leaned back in his chair, considering his retort, but ultimately ended up showing his palms in a sign of defeat. “Alright pal, you win. I’ll make sure Edgeworth gets there. The rest is up to you guys.” He turned to the old CRT monitor that was shoved off to the side of the desk, wrought with notes, figurines, and assorted doodles that had been drawn in the thick layer of dust covering the equipment. He tapped impatiently at the desk while the dinosaur of a machine booted up, eventually presenting him with a flickering screen that displayed a picture of him posing with Maggie Byrd the day she was sworn into the force. “How much time do you need?”

 

Maya considered it. They didn’t have a case right now, so it wasn’t like she’d have to move things around to schedule a gathering. Still, though, too soon and it would be suspicious, but too far out and it left too much up to chance. She considered the reasons she might have to use to lure the attorney back to his own office after hours, though Phoenix typically didn’t give her much trouble. “How about two weeks?”

 

Gumshoe’s eyes narrowed at the screen in front of him as he painstakingly waited through the computer’s desperate attempts to load the calendar. He’d been given access some time ago when Edgeworth had finally lost his patience with the trivialities of interviewing various secretaries and simply decided to dump the additional tasks onto the good detective. Although things were considerably calmer now, Gumshoe sort of liked the responsibilities. It made him feel closer to the man in red somehow, so he pointedly avoided reminding the prosecutor about it.

 

Seconds ticked past in awkward silence as the girls sat in optimistic anticipation, a definitive contrast to the detective’s rising blood pressure. “Two weeks?” Maya watched as Gumshoe’s meaty hand covered the mouse entirely, fingers hanging over the buttons as he tried in vain to open the application. While she wasn’t particularly computer-savvy, herself, she still had to try and suppress her giggles as the detective grew exponentially more frustrated with his machine.

 

Click. Click click. Click-click-click-click-click-click.

 

“Ah, hell with this old useless thing,” Gumshoe chucked the mouse across the room into the corner trash can. There was a broken basketball hoop hanging haphazardly above the wastebasket with Franziska’s smirking face taped to the backboard. “What is today, Thursday? Make it two weeks from tomorrow. I’ll make something up if I have to.”

 

“We owe ya one, Detective,” Maya flashed him a thumbs up. “If we pull this off, it’ll be better for everybody!”

 

“No doubt about that, pal. You manage to cheer those two up and the crooks in this town will flat-out give up before the trials even hit. Just one more thing,” he drummed his fingers on the desk in front of him, clearly thinking hard. “Who else do we invite? It would be weird just to have the five of us, wouldn’t it?”

 

Maya paused where she was rising up out of the armchair and then sat back down abruptly, gaining another threatening lurch from the piece of furniture. “I guess you’re right.” Folding her arms, the medium thought long and hard about their list of VIPs. “Well, Ms. von Karma is still around, right? We could bring her—“

 

“Even if she hadn’t gone back to Germany, I think I’d have to give that one a hard no, pal,” Gumshoe’s gaze was glassine, as if staring into the past. “That woman is an animal. Last thing I wanna do with a lioness is get it drunk.”

 

“Okay… well, how about some people from past cases? I bet Lotta is a lotta fun when she parties…”

 

Gumshoe groaned and shook his head, but conceded and pulled out a notepad. Slipping a pen out of his shirt pocket, he tapped the back of it against his imposing chest and scratched, Lotta Hart, at the top of the list. “Alright, who’s next?”

 

“Ooh, ooh!” Pearl lurched to the front of her seat in excitement. “Mr. Edgeworth likes the Steel Samurai, right? So why don’t we invite him, too?”

 

“Great idea, Pearly!” Maya clapped her hands together. “Now we’re on a roll!” She watched eagerly as the detective moved on to put Will Powers below Lotta Hart. The two of them bantered back and forth, partly speculating on invites but mostly reminiscing about past rivalries and the excitement of the cases in which they’d been involved. Gumshoe finally settled on extending the invitation to the police force and District Attorney’s office, remarking that Edgeworth had many admirers amongst the two, even if he didn’t realize it.

 

Satisfied that they had a solid start, Maya put Gumshoe in charge of organizing the guests’ arrival while she would make sure that the office was ready to go for the day of the party. Pearl had offered to help make some snacks and cookies to put out for the guests and was motivated to be a part of the process as best she could. Between the three of them, it truly felt as though they were all collaborating on a grand, Top Secret mission to reunite the greatest justice team the city had ever known.

 

As she got up to leave, Maya turned and smiled warmly at the detective, who had settled for compulsively picking at some of the duct tape holding his chair together while he concentrated on his address book. “Thanks again for all your help, Detective Gumshoe, it’s really good to have a friend like you on our side!” A deep blush spread across Gumshoe’s face as he was overcome with bashfulness. “Hope to see you there, yourself. Maybe you should ask Maggey to come along as your date?”

 

The detective choked. “Maybe, ah, maybe we should just focus on one pair for that night, eh, pal?” His nervous laughter belied his hesitation and Maya smirked at him, motivated.

 

“Fine, but if we pull this off, you two are next. C’mon, Pearly.” The smaller medium scampered after Maya as she made a swift exit, inspired by her latest matchmaking schemes. Truthfully, she did have her own doubts about the event, but if she remembered correctly, both Phoenix and Edgeworth had survived amicably enough as they had celebrated following the conclusion of the DL-6 trials. For a moment, it had even looked like Edgeworth might have accidentally enjoyed himself. If they could make it through two murder charges and a double acquittal, they could make it through an office party.

 

It weighed heavy on her heart to see the lawyer she had befriended so downtrodden all the time, and while she had done her own mourning for Mr. Edgeworth, it was nowhere near the obvious pain that her friend was continuing to go through. Although she had simply intended to force a confrontation between the two so that they could bury the hatchet, Gumshoe’s comment had struck a chord within her. One pair, huh? She had never seen Phoenix so much as bat an eye toward another woman since she’d been his partner, and he had certainly never made a move on her… It was an awfully long shot, but the possibility was there. She glanced down at Pearl who was, as usual, transfixed by the city traffic as they walked along. “Say, Pearly…”

 

“Yes, Mystic Maya?”

 

“What did you mean when you said that Nick and Mr. Edgeworth were two halves of the same whole?”

 

Pearl gasped and stopped mid-step, staring up at her idol. “What do you mean? Isn’t it obvious?”

 

“Why don’t you explain it to me just the same? I’d like to hear your thoughts. Look, there’s an ice cream cart—why don’t we each get a cone and talk about it?”

 

“Oh, yes, please!” Pearl bounced briefly, enthused at the offer. “I’d like that very much!”

 

Gotta remember to thank Nick for the money he doesn’t realize he gave me… Maya walked over to the stand and ordered two simple vanilla cones dipped in chocolate and handed one down to Pearl. After paying the man, she resumed walking, prompting Pearl to explain what was on her mind.

 

“Well, Mr. Nick and Mr. Edgeworth fight for different sides, right?” She wiped some ice cream off her chin. “Mr. Nick fights for the good guys, and Mr. Edgeworth is in charge of getting the bad guys.”

 

Maya giggled despite the seriousness in Pearl’s tone. She imagined that neither man would be pleased to hear their passions reduced to such a simple concept, even if she wasn’t entirely wrong. “That’s right, Pearls. Keep going.”

 

“Well, Mr. Nick is clumsy and fumbles his words a lot, but he knows how to listen to his heart. And Mr. Edgeworth always knows just what to say and is really good at strategy—“ Maya giggled when the word came out as “stragedy”—“but he isn’t good at feelings at all. When you put them together, they complement each other, don’t they?” She bit into her ice cream cone, slurping at it before it melted in the mid-day sun. “I used to think that maybe you and Mr. Nick were better for each other, but now I’m not so sure…”

 

Maya nodded, considering it. “Did you know that they’ve known each other since they were both your age?”

 

Pearl stopped in her tracks once again. “Really? All this time?”

 

“Yep. Nick says that Edgeworth was one of his first friends ever. But Edgeworth,” she stopped herself from blurting out the real reason the man had left, feeling as though it would likely just upset Pearl, “well, he had to go away for a long time. Nick spent most of his life trying to find him, and when he finally did, they were super close to being friends again.” She took a long lick at her ice cream cone and wagged a finger with her other hand. “But like you said, Mr. Edgeworth is bad at feelings, so he ran away for a while and tricked Nick into thinking he was dead so he wouldn’t go looking for him this time. And now he’s back! We’re not really sure why he’s back, but this is our greatest opportunity yet, Pearly!”

 

A fiery determination flashed in Pearl’s eyes and Maya knew in that moment that she really had her, for better or worse. Amused, she silently apologized to the two men in anticipation of Hurricane Pearl…

 

“Then that just proves it! They have to be for each other! We must succeed, Mystic Maya!”

 

“Let’s do it, Pearly. It’s gonna take a miracle. You ready?”

 

The tiny medium nodded, ablaze with inspiration. “Ready.”

 

Chapter 3: Chapter 3

Maya fussed over the sign in her hands, balancing awkwardly on the revolving office chair as she attempted to tack the string to the wall without plummeting to her death. It was the evening of the party and the office was crammed with people helping to get things perfect for the big moment.

 

Two weeks had gone by in an absolute flash, with Maya having busied herself with secretly collaborating between the party guests, Gumshoe, and herself. Phoenix had taken on a number of simple pleas through the Public Defender’s office to ensure that the bills would be paid, and for that she was grateful—it had taken him out of the office the majority of the time. While there wasn’t a whole lot to do leading up to the party, it did make things a great deal easier for her to be able to simply sit at the desk and plan. Across the windowsill from her stood Mike Meekins in all his lanky glory, waiting loyally for instruction.

 

“Is your side secured? Good. Come over here and hold this chair steady for me while I nail this half in,” she grunted at him. She had been genuinely surprised to see him show up, having been convinced that Edgeworth had put the fear of God so far into Meekins’ soul that he’d never see the light of day again. Still, she was happy to have him around. He made her laugh. The tack finally seated itself in the drywall and she dusted her hands, accepting the hand that the former officer offered to her to help her down. “Thanks! Whew, I think it’s finally coming together!”

 

She turned and surveyed the tiny office, admiring the collection of officers, prosecutors, lawyers, former clients, and plenty others she couldn’t recognize. They had all done a little bit to help set the tone for the surprise, most having brought food or snacks or beverages of some sort. Others brought small gifts or flowers, tokens of warm wishes toward the man formerly known as The Demon Prosecutor. Even she was impressed with the turnout; she had expected maybe six or seven people to show, but they were clearly pushing the capacity of the office at this point. She thought for sure that Mr. Edgeworth would be unable to feel anything other than the warmth of the atmosphere and enjoy himself. How could anyone not fall victim to the cheer in the air?

 

At that moment, she felt her phone go off in her belts and she fished it out before flipping it open. A text from Gumshoe:

 

ETA 5. He has no idea. Be rdy.

 

Maya smiled and tucked the phone away before clapping her hands loudly. The mild din that had risen amongst the party guests, most of whom were already imbibing, settled somewhat quickly as all eyes turned to her. “Alright, everyone! They’re 5 minutes out! The eagle is about to land! Places! Places! Somebody get the lights!” There was a flurry of activity in response to her short speech and she squealed to herself, certain of victory. Patting at her belly, she quickly found where she had tucked away a small digital camera and turned it on, readying it to capture the moment when Edgeworth burst in the door, unaware that all of his closest friends and comrades lie ready and waiting to ambush him.

 

Distantly, she wondered just where Phoenix was, as she had called him to the office to help her to “tidy up some files”… and had asked him to let her know when he was on his way. She congratulated herself on the idea of leaving Pearl with him as a handler—she would ensure that not only would he stay distracted, but that he would ultimately arrive in the first place. It wasn’t entirely unlike him to forget or even to deny her request, but tonight of all nights, she wanted nothing left to chance. They had more or less engineered it so that he would have remained at the courthouse with Pearl until the time was right for him to head over, as the structure of their building wasn’t nearly strong enough to prevent the lawyer form hearing the din of the crowd through the floor of their apartment. Still, she thought to herself as she settled behind the arm of the couch, this party wasn’t exactly for him. It would be okay, if not a little irritating, if he and Pearl were late.

 

She adjusted her feet a bit so that she could kneel, hiding, but centered in front of the rest of the crowd. She wanted a completely uncompromised shot of the moment of surprise.

 

A glance at her phone. “Two minutes,” she whispered to the crowd, and each second seemed to pass by like an eternity. She tried counting the time down in her head but either counted too quickly or continued losing count, and so she simply waited, heart thundering in her chest. When she heard the distinct, heavy footsteps of Detective Gumshoe lumbering down the hallway, her body tensed and she couldn’t resist turning and whispering, “Okay, everyone, this is it! Nice and loud!”

 

It was as if everything happened in slow motion.

 

The crank of the doorknob seemed to echo in the deafening silence of the room while everyone held their breath. The door swung painfully slowly and lurched away from the prosecutor’s fingertips, gradually opening wider and wider to reveal Miles Edgeworth, stood clutching a briefcase and looking dashing as usual in a navy pea coat and his trademark cravat. The resounding, “Surprise! Welcome home, Mr. Edgeworth!” was loud enough that it seemed to shake the very skeleton in her body. She couldn’t have been more proud as she blindly snapped off a few pictures, assaulting the stunned man with the camera flash.

 

Near immediately, Edgeworth turned on his heel to leave, but was stopped by none other than his faithful detective, whose large frame took up the entire doorway. Maya caught Gumshoe murmuring something silently to the now-furious prosecutor, who very quickly composed himself and turned back to face the party. Upon noticing everyone’s eager faces and realizing that the crowd was waiting for a response to their surprise, Edgeworth cleared his throat a few times and tried very hard not to look anybody in the eye.

 

“Ahem, ah, thank you, everyone. This was…highly unexpected,” he began, feeling twice as awkward for having been put on the spot. “I am…flattered…and deeply humbled by this impressive gathering.”

 

Maya watched in dawning horror as Edgeworth tried twice to swallow, clearly uncomfortable. This wasn’t the way this was supposed to go at all. Frantic to salvage the situation, she stepped forward, interrupting another stuttering sentence. “Mr. Edgeworth, welcome home! Hey, someone get this guy a drink, how about it?”

 

There was a cheerful roar from the crowd as everyone raised their own drinks, immediately focused instead on who would have the honor of pouring Miles Edgeworth his first drink upon his triumphant return. Satisfied that she had taken the attention off of him for a moment, she instead turned her gaze quickly to Gumshoe, who was still guarding the door like a bouncer. She glared at him for a moment, flicking her eyes toward the door and back until he reluctantly obliged her by shutting it behind him. Scampering up to the still-stunned prosecutor, Maya wrapped her arms around him, ignoring the way his body tensed up under her touch. “Really, we’re glad to have you back. Sorry if you don’t like surprises.”

 

Edgeworth at least had the grace to bow his head, still reeling from the ambush. “It…certainly is a spirited display. I can tell that you put a lot of work into it.”

 

Maya beamed at him and turned, insisting on grabbing him a beverage. While her back was to him, Edgeworth turned and fixed a poisonous glare at Gumshoe, who instantly looked as if he would appreciate nothing more than to become the umbrella stand sitting in the corner. The prosecutor felt something being placed into his hand and he looked down to find a glass of wine swirling within his grasp and Maya fluttering away, calling out, “You like wine, right? You seem like a wine guy.”

 

He groaned internally. As Gumshoe stepped forward to hang his coat on the hooks jutting out from the wall, Edgeworth turned to him and growled under the roar of the party, “How long, exactly, are we expected to participate in this, detective?”

 

As expected, the larger man visibly cringed and scrubbed at the back of his head. “I’m not entirely sure what she had planned for this, sir, I was only in charge of getting the invites out—“

 

“So you knew about this!?” The words came out in a hiss.

 

“Ah, yes, sir, I did know, sir,” the detective sighed and hung his head, “she was so excited about it I couldn’t really say no. You know what she’s like.”

 

Forcing himself to take a few deep breaths to get his temper under control, Edgeworth felt his hand clench around his briefcase while he considered his next course of action. The manners instilled in him insisted that he remain for at least one drink to be polite; after all, he had been sincere when he told Maya that it looked like she had put a lot of effort into the event. There was a wide spread of a variety of foods, beverages, gifts, even a punch bowl and a stereo he could tell most certainly did not belong with the office décor.

 

Most of the faces were ones he only distantly recognized from his time spent mulling over evidence in the Criminal Affairs Department or the Prosecutor’s office. The crowd was mingling comfortably, most engaged in avid conversation, though he could already notice that some eyes were beginning to glance over in his direction. He felt a tremendous amount of relief that the attention had been taken off of him, at least for the time being. Setting his briefcase and glass of wine down on the counter, he shrugged off his wool coat, hanging it neatly next to the detective’s battle-worn trench. Once he was satisfied that it was at least relatively safe from any potential party hazards, he slid the briefcase off the counter and tucked it up against the wall, as well. Finally, he delicately picked up the glass of red wine, impressed that it was, at least, real glass. One drink, Miles. Don’t be rude.

 

He watched idly as he swirled the liquid within its confines, unimpressed by the legs of the wine left on the glass walls. Deep down, he knew what was going to happen if he went any further with trying to assess the drink’s quality, but he pushed forth anyway, largely out of muscle memory. Sinking his nose into the glass, he inhaled deeply, nearly gagging on the acrid scent that hit the back of his throat. Maybe not even one drink… Did this come from a box? He surveyed the room, noting that most were getting their beverages out of a massive tub that sat centered on the table against the far wall. It smelled…sticky. He grimaced. At least it couldn’t get any worse.

 

In that moment, he heard the door latch behind him and turned to find Phoenix Wright stepping in through the doorway, unaware of what he was entering into. The man was having a rushed conversation with Pearl, who was two steps behind him and rushed to scoot inside the door before the attorney closed the door with a loud thud. Edgeworth felt his heart sink and fought the urge to cringe; if the defense attorney hadn’t already been part of the surprise, then that likely meant—

 

“Hey, everyone! Hey! Look, Nick is here! And he brought Pearls with him!” The party roared in response, much like they had done at the suggestion of getting Edgeworth a drink, and the attorney whirled around, suddenly realizing where he was. “Now we can get the real party started!”

 

Blue eyes met gray in a panic. “Edgeworth—what—“

 

“You know about as much as I do, Wright. They ambushed me as well.”

 

“Mister Edgeworth!”

 

The prosecutor startled briefly and glanced down at the shrill voice that had managed to chime out even over the clash of the crowd gathered around them. A rather young child, dressed in the same strange garb that Maya always sported, was gazing adoringly up at him and bouncing lightly on the balls of her feet. His indignant rage momentarily forgotten, he tried desperately to remember where he would have met this child before. Pearl took the opportunity to wrap her arms around the prosecutor’s legs, nearly toppling him. “I’m so glad you’re back!”

 

Phoenix chuckled at the display and glanced around the room before resting his gaze upon the sign on the wall: WELCOME BACK! His shoulders drooped. He knew he should have been suspicious when Maya Fey, of all people, told him that he needed to report to the office after business hours for cleaning. How could he have been tricked so easily? Pearl had been so insistent that they go right now, Mr. Nick, and he had no other choice but to chalk it up to another one of her fanciful matchmaking schemes… Deciding instead to simply abandon all hope of sorting it out, he turned to leave, finding Maya between himself and the door. “What is with you two and trying to leave so suddenly? Come on, it’s time for the speeches to start.”

 

Both men froze and called out, “Speeches!?”

 

“Yep, come on, guests of honor!” Unaware of their panic, or perhaps merely unaffected by it, Maya took both of them by the hands and led them to the center of the room where two chairs had been set side-by-side. While Edgeworth had had a precious minute over Phoenix in terms of adjusting to the situation, neither was particularly prepared for what was coming. Before they could properly react, the duo had been seated, Phoenix found a shot in either hand, and a semi-circle of party guests surrounded them.

 

Before he could say anything, Phoenix was cut off by a painful, yet familiar electronic screech. Seconds later, Mike Meekins emerged from the semi-circle, megaphone in hand.

 

“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN,” he yelled into the device, nearly leveling the party as the guests groaned in protest. Maya elbowed him and glared hard, still covering her ears. Meekins cleared his throat and continued at a much more appropriate volume, “Ahem, Ladies and Gentlemen, let us focus our attention on our guests of honor: Mr. Miles Edgeworth and Mr. Phoenix Wright!”

 

Applause rang out in the room and defense fixed prosecution with a long, suffering stare. Pearl finally squeezed herself out of the forest of legs and beamed at them, unaffected by the pair’s dour mood.

 

“We’ve all gathered here to celebrate the return of the greatest prosecutor who ever lived!” Again, Maya elbowed Meekins before whispering something hastily into his ear. Expectedly, the former officer yelped and brought the megaphone up to his mouth, close enough that it crushed his lips over to one side. “AND HIS FAITHFUL PARTNER IN CRIME, PHOENIX WRIGHT!”

 

The megaphone screeched mightily again, and Maya finally yanked it from the poor M.C.’s hands, much to everyone’s relief. As she set it down on the table next to the punch bowl, she turned and gesticulated toward the entire room. “As Mike here has said, we’ve all come together to welcome home Mr. Edgeworth, who thought that he could somehow sneak back here without anyone noticing.” There was a ripple of laughter that floated through the crowd. Edgeworth had resorted to ignoring his rival in favor of glaring daggers at Detective Gumshoe, who was trying very hard to hide in the back of the room. Phoenix took his first shot and grimaced.

 

“Furthermore, we’re also here to reunite Mr. Edgeworth with his fearless rival and my closest friend, Phoenix Wright, Attorney at Law, Master of the Cold Sweat!”

 

The laughter intensified among the participants. Some people let out a small, “woo!” Others raised their glasses. Phoenix took his second shot.

 

“Anyone who’s been involved in a case with these two know what a real rollercoaster it can be, am I right?” Maya smirked, enjoying the attention, as cheers and jaunts alike emanated from the crowd. “So it’s only fitting that they be together again after Mr. Edgeworth has come back from the dead.”

 

Someone had taken the empty shot glasses from Phoenix’s hands and replaced them with two more. Edgeworth actually sipped at his own drink, fighting the urge to spit it out onto the carpet. This did come from a box…

 

“So without further ado…” Maya held her hands out toward the guests, grinning brightly, “Who would like to be the first to step up and say a few words celebrating our heroes’ triumphant return?”

 

As the crowd buzzed with energy and people murmured amongst themselves, many fighting for the chance to be the first to step up and speak, to be noticed by the famous prosecutor, Phoenix took his third shot and leaned toward Edgeworth. “Couldn’t you have at least sent a letter or a postcard or something? You know, something along the lines of, ‘Hey, I’m not dead, Sincerely, Edgeworth’?”

 

Edgeworth finally broke his stare at Gumshoe, much to the detective’s relief, and turned his head back toward his rival and current comrade-in-agony. “There was nothing stopping you from reaching out, yourself, you know. I had a lot on my mind—“

 

“A lot on your mind!?” Phoenix halted abruptly for a moment as the first speaker, a grizzled police officer who had obviously already had too much to drink, stepped forward and separated himself from the crowd. “We all thought you were dead and you had a lot on your—“

 

“Listen up, ladies and germs,” the man swayed threateningly, holding his solo cup full of golden, frothy beer above his head, “this here is the finest example of justice to ever hit our jurisdiction,” he turned rapidly to face the two men who were still having a very focused, heated argument amongst themselves, “and y’all both are a Goddamned inspiration to the rest of us!” Emboldened by the alcohol, he clapped a meaty, calloused hand down onto Edgeworth’s shoulder, causing the prosecutor to jump violently mid-sentence. His grip was tight and Edgeworth stared at him in shock as he waved his beer around throughout his speech, nearly spilling it across the man’s lap an overly large number of times. Phoenix took the opportunity to take his fourth shot and stared desperately at Maya, who did nothing but gesticulate frantically toward Edgeworth.

 

He rolled his eyes and instead gave a pleading stare to the nearest officer, holding up his empty shot glasses. They were dutifully filled from the nearest liquor bottle. From where he was seated, Phoenix could just snag a soda from a cooler full of ice and various nonalcoholic beverages. Just as he cracked it open in preparation of chasing his fifth shot, Edgeworth finally shrugged his shoulder out of the chief’s offensive grip. Pearl glared at Phoenix, unhappy that he was paying attention to his drink instead of his partner.

 

Cheers erupted from the crowd as the next officer came forth, and then another, ultimately refocusing the party’s energy on who could tell the best “Wright vs. Edgeworth” story the loudest. The music and laughter served as an effective, albeit ironic, cover for the harsh words the two men began sharing between them and Maya watched from behind the water cooler, dismayed. It was very clear that there was a lot of severely unfinished business between the two of them and she wondered with a note of sadness whether this had been entirely too premature, after all. Still, they were there, and she was bound and determined to make the most of it.

 

It was easy enough to seek out Detective Gumshoe, as he was simply one of the largest people in the room. Now that Edgeworth had relaxed on attempting to murder the detective with his eyes alone, the man had settled into arranging a heaping pile of snacks upon a plate, apparently quite enjoying the challenge the large selection presented. Leaving the two attorneys to battle it out for a few minutes, Maya scuttled over and stomped on the detective’s foot. Pearl wasn’t far behind her and followed suit, nailing the man’s thigh with a patented Pearl Slap.

 

The detective yelled and startled, nearly dropping his plate. “Now what did ya have to go and do that for, pal?!”

 

“Detective, look!” She pointed frantically at Phoenix and Edgeworth. Phoenix had finally taken his fifth shot and Edgeworth was rubbing abrasively at the bridge of his nose, having turned his back to the attorney. The prosecutor was trying valiantly to maintain at least some semblance of calm as people filtered over to him, each insistent on offering their personal regards to him, unaware of the heated argument that he had unwittingly been drawn into. “It’s falling apart fast! We need to get them out of here now before it gets any worse!”

 

Gumshoe sighed. He had seen this coming, of course—even an idiot like him could have predicted this happening. About a week prior to the party, he had called Maya with his concerns, trying valiantly to have her call the party off and be patient a while longer. When that didn’t work, he suggested that they at least have a backup plan, something that would allow the two men to take their leave if—when, he amended—things got heated. Maya still hadn’t been thrilled but was willing to at least hear him out. He took one last, mournful gaze at his plate of goodies, then set it back down on the table. “Hey, everyone—“

 

The party continued on, oblivious.

 

“Excuse me,” he tried again.

 

The sounds of cracking cups, ice being refilled, music being changed, laughter, yelling, stories exchanged… It all blended together into a raucous sort of hum.

 

“HEY PALS, WOULD YA KINDLY CAN IT FOR A SECOND!?”

 

And just like that, twenty-odd voices fell into a stunned silence, with only the distant uhn-tiss uhn-tiss uhn-tiss of the music bumping as a backdrop. Gumshoe chuckled to himself and spread his arms wide, parting the crowd, to reveal Phoenix and Edgeworth, who had both since stood from their chairs. They, too, stared at him in shocked curiosity, and Phoenix was beyond relieved when Gumshoe pointed at the prosecutor instead of him. “Listen, sir, some of the other officers and myself, here, we uh…” He habitually raised a hand to the back of his head and scratched lightly, feeling awkward as the center of attention, “We got ya a little somethin’ to welcome ya back.”

 

As soon as the officers in question realized where Gumshoe was going with this, they managed to surround Edgeworth in anticipation of presenting his gift. Phoenix saw his opportunity and took it immediately, slinking around the back of the crowd and managing to escape out the door without being noticed. Edgeworth, on the other hand, had no route of egress and simply awaited his fate, wondering for the nth time if it could somehow continue to get worse. Soon, Gumshoe burst forth from the crowd clutching an overly-large gift bag that had been hastily stuffed with tissue paper of various colors. The bag was thrust into his hands and everyone leaned in, eager to watch his reaction.

 

Resigned to his fate, Edgeworth sat back into the chair that had held him hostage earlier and placed the bag at his feet. Delicately removing the crumpled tissue paper, he tried silently counting backward in his head, wishing desperately that he could leave. Once the paper was removed, he discovered that the bag contained an impressively large framed photograph and he removed it to stare at the occupants.

 

I remember this…It was from the celebration following the completion of the trial where Chief Gant had been convicted, when everyone had sort of organically migrated together to celebrate the overwhelming, if unexpected, victory. The picture depicted himself, Phoenix, Maya, and Lana in front with the rest of the force behind them. It had been a major blow to a lot of people, but still, they had managed to seek out the truth. Those who had remained loyal to him had made a significant effort to find reasons to stop by his office and congratulate or thank him. Given where his mind had been at the time, it had been tremendously awkward…

 

Still, as he gazed at the photo and recalled the sense of belonging he’d felt at that time, he was surprised to discover that he was actually grateful for the physical reminder. When he looked up at the crowd, he realized they were still waiting with bated breath, and he offered a genuine smile. “This was extremely thoughtful of all of you. I truly appreciate it.”

 

There was an audible sigh of relief as the tension left the room. Gumshoe cocked an awkward half-smile at Edgeworth. “It was the last time we had the opportunity to really work with you. You changed a lot of lives that day, sir. We’re all grateful to you for what you’ve done, especially me. When you left—“ despite the heartwarming speech, Gumshoe’s voice cracked on the word and Edgeworth winced, knowing full well the pain that the detective had felt before he’d reached out to him a few weeks later, “—when you left, the whole department sort of fell apart. We’re just really glad you’re back.”

 

There was a cheer from somewhere in the back as someone called for, “Three cheers for Mr. Edgeworth!” As the guests stumbled through their hip-hip-hoorays, Edgeworth scanned each of their faces, but came up empty. Where had Wright gotten to?  Surely he hadn’t managed to escape? He took advantage of the crowd’s distraction and navigated through them, ultimately setting the offensive glass of wine on the counter and reaching to lean the photo against his briefcase. People had returned to talking animatedly amongst themselves, some even beginning to make the motions of preparing to leave. He felt his lip curl briefly as he watched them and for a moment, he attempted to count the imminent DUIs.

 

Phoenix was nowhere to be seen.

 

His eyes paused as he caught the gaze of Maya Fey, who had clearly been watching him for a few moments. He held steady as she stared at him for a second and then her face suddenly softened, surprising him. He watched her roll her eyes over an amused smile and she began to make her way over. When she paused in front of him, she seemed to consider something before she reached out and took his right hand between hers. “Look, Mr. Edgeworth, this party… It was only supposed to be a fun reason to get the two of you back together again.” There was an apology hidden amongst the words and he felt a pang of guilt over how ungrateful he had been throughout the ordeal, even if he had also felt very much like a cornered animal. “Whatever it was that he said to you, please don’t be too hard on Nick.”

 

The surprise he felt at her comment must have found its way to his face because Maya allowed his hand to fall, choosing instead to wrap her arms around her midsection. It was obvious to him that she was trying very hard to choose her words carefully; he saw the same gesture and expression in court all the time. Still, he commended her, even if he had the sinking feeling that he wasn’t about to particularly enjoy what she had to say.

 

“Nick...took it the hardest out of all of us, you know. He wouldn't even let us say your name. You really do mean a lot to him, even if you don't believe it... So please talk to him. It doesn’t have to be tonight, or tomorrow night, but please let him know how you feel. I know you have a heart somewhere in there, and Nick could really use it right now.” She let out a wispy breath that she had been holding and reached up to adjust his cravat, needing something else to focus on to release the tension. “Now’s probably your best chance to leave, if you want to. Sorry we ambushed you.”

 

Not that he felt he particularly needed the permission of a teenage girl to leave a party he didn’t want to be at, he was grateful to receive it just the same. He gave her a curt nod of gratitude before slinging his coat over his elbow. He found it simpler to swipe the photo and the briefcase with one hand and open the door silently with his other, and with a flap of his coat, he was gone.

 

Maya watched after him for a few moments longer, despondent. For all the time, effort, and emotion she had put into this party, she wondered if it could have possibly gone any worse. She had seen the way that Nick and Mr. Edgeworth had argued with each other when they sat down… Of course, what did she think would happen? That they would just suddenly throw all their history away and reunite as long, lost friends?

 

For a moment, irritation bubbled within her. Well of course that’s what she expected to have happen. It wasn’t her fault that they weren’t any good at this sort of thing.

 

Still, she mused, the cat was officially out of the bag, now. Nick knew Edgeworth was back, and Edgeworth knew that…well, knew that everybody knew he was back.  It was only try number one, after all, right…?

 

A pair of large, calloused hands came down on her shoulders and massaged briefly before letting go and she turned to find Gumshoe chuckling behind her. Pearl sat upon his massive shoulders, pawing at an eye. Surprised to see him in a lighthearted mood after the disastrous evening, Maya peered at them, curious.

 

“I think it went well, pal,” he started in, refusing to stop even after Maya snorted at the assessment. “I’m serious. I think that was genuinely as good as that could have gone. And look,” he patted her on the back as his chuckling grew into legitimate laughter, “the backup plan even worked. They both ghosted.”

 

Maya felt a laugh bubbling within her, as well, despite her dour mood. “You think he went to chase after Nick?”

 

“Wouldn’t doubt it, kid,” Gumshoe sighed and crossed his arms. “You know Mr. Edgeworth. Once he catches scent of his prey, he doesn’t let up until it’s a done deal. I imagine he has a lot that was left unsaid before he left… I just hope Wright’s up to hearing it.”

 

Maya sighed and watched idly as more guests began to filter out after noticing that the two guests of honor had already departed. “Something tells me he will be. He’s been waiting almost 20 years to hear whatever it is.” She thought back to how utterly defeated the man had looked, staring out the window at the rain. “Edgeworth is the only person who ever lit a passion in him, even more than my sister. When he was gone, it was like—like a widow waiting for her soldier to return from war. I know Mr. Edgeworth isn’t good at expressing himself, but I sure hope he manages it sometime soon, for both their sakes.”

 

Silence met her ears and she turned to find Gumshoe reaching for his trench coat. “Oh no you don’t,” she called out, relishing the exaggerated cringe that crushed the man’s shoulders inward. He turned to grin sheepishly at her, shrugging.

 

“Someone has to stick around and help me clean all this up!”

Chapter 4: Chapter 4

Miles Edgeworth found his long-time friend and rival sitting alone on a bench overlooking the ocean. In the back of his mind, he commended the attorney's choice; he, himself had always enjoyed this part of town to come and clear his head. He supposed it was no real surprise to find that the other man had already beaten him here. The bench punctuated a paved walkway through beautiful white sand with little overlooks cut out in front, decorated with wrought iron fences high enough to keep children from tumbling down the cliff on the other side. Far below, the ocean waves beat mercilessly upon massive crags. He approached Phoenix silently from behind, simply watching the man, knowing that this would be a delicate moment to navigate.

 

The party had been near physically painful. Compounded with his introverted side simply preferring not to attend large, boisterous gatherings, it was now obvious to him that he did a great deal more damage than he had intended from his disappearance. Maya had obviously been happy to welcome him back, glad for his safety and eager to pick up where they left off. Gumshoe, he snorted, had known the entire time and was a poor actor when trying to hide the fact. It was everyone else in attendance that had tried valiantly to smile, to ask about his travels, to offer him a drink or a story of what he'd missed... Years of practice, however, had attuned him to seeing behind the facade. Even if he had tried not to, it would have been impossible to miss the very real pain and bright sadness barely concealed by the tacky Styrofoam plates full of half-eaten finger foods and foil signs spouting, “WELCOME BACK!”

 

It as an absolutely spirited collection of everyone whose hearts he had shattered upon declaring he was dead. If he didn't feel so much like an asshole, he mused, he would have been tremendously flattered.

 

Then there was, of course, the matter of Mr. Phoenix Wright, who was still thankfully unaware of his presence, or at least unwilling to acknowledge it. Maya's words crept silkily across his thoughts:

 

“Nick...took it the hardest out of all of us, you know. He wouldn't even let us say your name. You really do mean a lot to him, even if you don't believe it...”

 

He cringed gently. Hindsight offered him twelve other ways he could have handled the situation less abrasively, and yet here he was now, forced to continue running or to confront the man in front of him. A brief urge to simply smack the back of the attorney's head and tell him to get over it flared within his chest and he entertained it for a moment, knowing that it would be childish but having no other example to take precedent. von Karma had never been particularly attentive to cultivating their emotional intelligence, always insisting that he grow up to be the impassive, perfect prosecutor who didn't feel or care, simply planned and executed and won. His lip curled in contempt. He had no idea what he was doing, but damned if he wasn't going to try. If nothing else, he would do it simply to spite the old bastard.

 

The ocean breeze kicked up for a moment and he shuddered against the chill it carried, lamenting for a moment that he had chosen to leave his coat in the car. A quick glance at the crystal-clear sky encouraged him a bit—at least it wouldn't rain on what was inevitably about to be a spectacular failure. “Wright.”

 

If he had expected any kind of response from the man, he was disappointed. The lawyer sat, quiet and still, shoulders sagged against his own brooding. It was odd to see him dressed casually for once, a thick black hooded sweatshirt draped over his torso and lightly faded jeans peeking out from underneath the bench. Even his hair seemed to be a bit more relaxed with a few stray tendrils of black hair falling around his head. As he approached, he rounded the bench and put his hands in his pockets, thankful to have somewhere to put them to hide his nervous ticks.

 

Still, he had survived worse battles.

 

The other man stared blankly ahead for a moment, and then almost imperceptibly, appeared to square his jaw. His Adam's apple bobbed a bit and his eyes closed. The prosecutor frowned and took him in further, noticing the five o'clock shadow lining his cheeks and neck. There was a distinct odor of alcohol carried along the breeze that persistently pawed at them. At a loss for words, he sat next to his partner and stared at the ocean just the same. This wasn't going as planned.

 

As he was about to try to initiate a conversation once more, Phoenix moved beside him, leaning awkwardly back on the bench so that he could tilt his head to the sky. “Draco,” he murmured, and then pointed upwards to the stars, “right there.”

 

“W-what?”

 

He watched the other man for any clues as to why he was blurting nonsense (he snorted and reminded himself that the attorney literally made a career out of doing just that) and saw that despite his depressed appearance, Phoenix was actively scanning the sky. A moment later, his hand shifted and pointed at a different, equally ambiguous spot. “And the Phoenix.”

 

Edgeworth turned his face back to the sky and searched in earnest for what his friend could possibly be pointing at. After a few seconds, he sighed, dejected. They all just looked like stars to him. “Wright—”

 

“I've built my entire life around you, you know.”

 

He swallowed what he was going to say, sensing that the other man would probably shut him up, anyway. He shoved his annoyance aside; he wasn't like that anymore. At least, that's what he told himself.

 

“When you left, I called you every day. Sometimes twice a day, if I thought my parents wouldn't find out about it. I had von Karma's answering machine memorized by the third day.” Phoenix let his hand fall back and draped his elbows over the back of the bench. His face was pensive. “When the phone calls didn't work, I started writing letters. I got my mom to help me with the stamps and address. She even let me put it in the mailbox every morning so I could be sure I did it right. You still never answered me.”

 

Miles felt a pang of guilt ripple through him, laced with a bit of anger. He had only found out about the letters years later in passing conversation with Franziska. They had indeed successfully made it to the house. However...

 

“When the letters didn't work, I thought maybe I still did it wrong, so I walked to the house every day and put it in von Karma's mailbox, myself.” The attorney's head rolled gently to the side, his eyes still trained on the stars above them. Edgeworth listened intently, unsure of where Phoenix was going with this. It hurt him to hear it even if he had never asked the other man to pursue him for so long. His mind flashed to the keychain still attached to his briefcase and his eyes fell in shame. He, too, had held on to the childhood memories that had comforted him on all of his lonely, most terrible nights, but had he ever made an effort to reach out to Phoenix? It was tempting to blame that on von Karma, too, who had so expertly slaughtered his initial attempts to maintain correspondence with his best friend. Once he had been older, however, it would have been much easier. He was such a different person at that point, though, that he had been certain the brunette boy wouldn't have cared to hear from him then...

 

“Those didn't work, either.” The voice jarred him from his thoughts and he looked back to the other man who was staring back out at the sea. “For a while, I was pretty sad. I didn't know what else to try. I was afraid of throwing rocks at windows because I didn't know which window was yours.” Phoenix gazed anew at the sky. “So when we learned about constellations in school, I heard about two in particular that I thought were pretty cool. Draco the Dragon was one of them.” He moved once more and startled Miles when he took his hand, gently, and formed it into loose fist with his index finger extended. He raised the prosecutor’s arm and pointed it at the sky. “See there? It kind of looks like the little dipper with a big loopy tail.”

 

The prosecutor strained his eyes and genuinely looked for the collection of stars, sensing that it was important to the other man that he grasp this. Just as he thought he saw what he was looking for, Phoenix continued on.

 

“Draco actually represents a lot of things, but my favorite story was about Ladon, who was a big dragon that guarded a tree full of golden apples.” A rueful smile curved the attorney's lips. “He totally reminded me of you.”

 

“Ridiculous.”

 

“Nah, he definitely reminds me of you. All posted up in your office guarding all those bouquets of flowers from Oldbag, fancy as hell. Ladon probably drank from fine china on a Tuesday morning, too. And you may as well breathe fire in court. It's perfect.”

 

If Miles Edgeworth weren't so confused by the attorney's change in character this evening, he might have had it in him to be offended. I am not a fancy fire-breathing dragon, Wright...

 

“And the other one was the Phoenix. It had the same name as me, so for a nine-year-old boy to find out there's a group of stars in the sky named after him, it was pretty much the coolest thing I had ever heard.” He navigated the prosecutor's hand to a different group of stars, just as he had done with his own finger earlier. “This one can be pretty hard to find. It looks like two diamonds shoved together. There, see?”

 

“No, Wright, I don't see.”

 

Phoenix let his hand go with a sigh, then, and he found himself momentarily disappointed. Biting back a scoff, he instead tried to focus on the lingering warmth on the back of his hand where the other man had cradled it moments before. I'm not like that anymore. It's okay to feel.

 

“Everyone knows the story of the Phoenix, where it dies and rises from the ashes, but that wasn't the coolest part to me...” Edgeworth's eyes lifted from his hand to meet the other's gaze for the first time since he had shown up that night. They were glossy and a little pink, and Miles came uncomfortably close to seeing for the first time just how deeply his “death” had affected his friend. “The Phoenix is actually on the Southern Hemisphere. So it's over there and you,” he pointed back to Draco, “are up there. Just like when we were kids and you were just up the street, but you may as well have been on the other side of the world.”

 

Edgeworth frowned. So this is where he was going with all of this.

 

Phoenix held his gaze for a moment more before he turned back toward the ocean. “I laid awake every night staring out the window, wondering what you were doing that was so important that you couldn't write back. Even Larry asked about you once in a while, when he wasn't chasing tail. I couldn't sleep until I found both of those constellations every night. I told myself that if nothing else, at least you were under the same sky I was. Maybe sometimes you were even looking at the same stars. As long as I kept thinking that, there was still hope, even after we saw each other again. I never stopped believing that I'd get you back somehow, especially after that DL-6 stuff.” His eyes blinked rapidly for a moment and his throat worked awkwardly; he was choked up. “I did that all the way up until Gumshoe handed me that letter.”

 

“He gave it to you?”

 

Phoenix barked out a laugh. “I guess I kind of forced him to. He didn't want to. Said it would only make things worse.” His smile faded as quickly as it had appeared. “I read it every night. Obsessed over it. I couldn't sleep, I wouldn't eat... Maya begged me to take some cases just to get my mind off of it. I kept asking myself why I wasn't enough. I wondered what I could have done or said to have stopped it, wondered how I had missed the signs... I threw my badge in the trash.”

 

Miles blinked in shock. “W-why?”

 

“What was the point?” The defense waved his question off as if he’d been asked what he’d like for breakfast the following morning. “Half the point of becoming a lawyer in the first place was to repay what you had done for me and to get a chance to see you again. Even if it meant getting raked across the coals in front of my clients, at least you were there.” Despite himself, a quiet, sad chuckle escaped his throat, rough with emotion. “Still wearing the same bizarre clothing and everything. I was so excited you were there and you were okay and you were still the same Edgeworth. Well, most of you was, anyway.” There was a strange little pause. “Some of you was.”

 

The prosecutor winced as he remembered their initial passing. “I think you've changed a little too much, Edgeworth...” It had been the first comment in fifteen years that had genuinely struck a chord within him. The beginning of the end, he supposed.

 

“Anyway, Maya found it when she was getting the garbage together. She fished it out of the can and came in clutching it in her fist. Boy, did I get an earful...” He shook his head against the memory. “She all but demanded that I keep going, if not for you then for Mia. It hurt. She was right, but I really didn't want to hear it at the time. So I mourned you the best I could. I'm not sure I ever really got over it.”

 

Miles felt that it would probably be appropriate to say something comforting at this point, but his throat felt dry and his palms were clammy and he was furious with himself for being so lacking in the ways of reassurance. His knuckles went white as his fists clenched around the fabric of his pants and he glared at them, feeling childish. What good was it being one of the best prosecutors in the world if he was unable to do anything else? What did he expect to happen when he came here, a happy reunion? What was he thinking?

 

“Why did you come back?”

 

It took a conscious effort to relax his hands. He found it impossible to look at the man after a question like that, so instead, Edgeworth trained his gaze on the ground in front of them, fixated on an enthusiastic weed that had squeezed itself up and out of a crack in the pavement. “Don't you mean to ask me why I left?”

 

“No.”

 

He fought between rolling his eyes and wincing.

 

“You had every opportunity to stay there and build a life for yourself, didn't you? I mean, all the allegations, the accusations, the rumors... It's not like they would follow you to Europe and stick. You said it yourself, you chose death. You could have stayed there and resumed that life and been just as successful without any of the baggage. So why did you come back?”

 

The real question was there, hidden between the lines. He could hear the waver in Phoenix's voice and knew the man was fighting to keep even a tenuous hold on his emotions. Given his usual raucous displays in court, he commended him for maintaining such control, considering the circumstances. It was obvious that the lawyer hadn't yet considered the possibility that he had left to rebuild himself and was assuming he simply ran away. Any other time, he mused, he probably would have been correct.

 

Still, he wasn't sure he was prepared to weather his closest friend's reaction to what he had to say. It had taken nearly a year of isolation from almost everyone he cared about to get him to this point. If Phoenix Wright rejected his explanation, and subsequently his new proposal, what would happen moving forward? He tried to envision standing across from the other man in court after such an event and shuddered. At least he still had a home in Germany. For all the things Miles Edgeworth had purged himself of over that year, he’d never gotten rid of his contingency plan…

 

“I...realized that I am half a man when I stand alone.”

 

Blissful silence met his ears and he struggled to exhale quietly enough that the other man would not realize he had been holding his breath. Bolstered by the lack of response, he continued on, trying to choose his words carefully so as to not make things worse.

 

“When I wrote that Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth chooses death, I meant it,” he remembered all of the copies he had thrown into the trash, having struggled through the night to put the correct words on paper only to arrive at such a sterile declaration, “I knew that the person I had become was not who I wanted to be. Especially not after...” He ground his teeth together, working against fifteen years of training, forcing the words out. “Not after you had shown me that there was still something left to believe in.”

 

There was silence still, heavy in the air. Even the wind seemed to have paused to hear what he had to say.

 

“I shut myself away from everyone and reexamined my life. I hated what I had become, what I had the potential to turn into, but I didn't know where to start. I was furious with you for showing me that everything I had fought for and all of my hard work had turned me into nothing but an arrogant farce.” His eyes burned as he talked and he blinked, finally leaving his eyes shut. He could feel his fists trembling against his thighs as he continued, knowing that if he stopped now, he might never talk about it again. “I toiled for months, putting myself under a microscope, meticulously dissecting every last skeleton I held in my own closet. It was positively torturous. If you thought I was a miserable prick to deal with as a client, you should see how hard I can be on myself.”

 

He opened his eyes and glanced at his comrade and found that Phoenix was staring particularly hard at nothing, braced against his words. His courage faltered for a moment. He had anticipated at least a small reaction by now. Even so, he found it more difficult the further he explained himself, unused to having to express his emotions at all, much less with words, and certainly never on his own. Frustration bubbled within him. He thought he had made more progress than this.

 

“Wright, look at me.” There was an excruciating pause before blue eyes slid over to meet his own and Miles Edgeworth suddenly became very aware of how close he was sitting to the other man. It did not ease his nerves. He thought he had prepared his next statement—he’d mentally practiced it hundreds of times, after all—but when ensnared by his rival's gaze, he found himself at a distinct loss for words for the first time since childhood. His heart thundered in his chest and he wondered briefly if Phoenix could see how anxious he was. There was still pain in his friend's eyes, but now, he saw, there was also curiosity. Thank god, he mused, that even after all of this, he's the same as he ever was...

 

“What is it you really want to say, Miles?”

 

He stared back at Phoenix, speechless and floundering and growing increasingly frustrated that he couldn't just make the words come out. He was one of the youngest prosecuting attorneys in history and had gone toe to toe with murderers, rapists, kidnappers... He had seen his father killed, had been plucked abruptly from his home to be raised by a sinister monster with ulterior motives. He had served as a sibling to Franziska von Karma. Yet after all of it, after every terrifying and painful trial he had been through, he had never remembered feeling the sort of fear he was feeling now under the baleful, vulnerable gaze of his friend of almost twenty years.

 

There was one last trick in his pocket, one last resort to make the other man understand what he had gone through and was still going through and what he wanted to tell him. He desperately wanted to apologize and to keep explaining himself, to paint a picture with words like Phoenix did when he caught on to something in court, to do things gently and at the right pace and to repair it properly, but... He took a deep breath. Now or never. Get it over with. Deal with the feelings afterward.

 

Just as Phoenix started to turn away from him, he reached out, desperate to do something, anything, to salvage the situation he had created. The stubble on the man's cheek was rough on his palm as he cupped the clenched jaw and turned the attorney's attention back to him, giving the lawyer no time to register what was happening. In one swift movement, he leaned in, eyes tightly shut, and closed the distance, pressing his lips against his rival's.

 

For a moment, time itself seemed to stand absolutely still.

 

Hypersensitive, Miles could feel his pulse racing in his thumb pressed against the man's cheekbone while they were frozen against each other. He dared not move, focused on the way the lawyer's bottom lip shook ever so slightly against his own. The smell of the salt in the air mingled with the faded cologne that drifted off of his friend's sweatshirt and he sampled it gently, breathing through his nose, terrified that the moment would end before he could imprint it on his memory forever. If everything else failed, he could save this one experience, could have it selfishly to himself as a distant escape...

 

Fully expecting to be shoved backward or punched or even bitten, the prosecutor startled violently when he instead felt a gentle pressure sliding along his collarbones. A moment later, there was the gentlest pressure at the back of his neck as Phoenix formed a fist around his silken cravat and held him there while his lips pulled away a fraction of an inch. He allowed his eyes to slide open, sneaking a peek at the man keeping him hostage, and found that at some point, the attorney's eyes had shut and he was hovering in place, moving neither forward nor away. Distantly, a small, triumphant firecracker of delight went off in the back of Edgeworth's mind but was stifled immediately—it was not time for celebration yet.

 

More pressure, then, as Phoenix pulled him forward by the soft ruffles at his throat and kissed him in earnest. He let his hand slide into the ebony spikes that jutted stubbornly into the humid air, wishing that he could feel them without the waxy product put there to secure their position. He could no longer hear the ocean below or the seagulls or even his own heartbeat rushing in his eardrums. For the moment, there was only Phoenix and the way it felt to slide his tongue along the other man's, and the way he tasted of alcohol and something else uniquely him, and the fact that, for now, things had finally seemed to turn to his favor for once.

 

Their lips parted a second time but Phoenix did not release his grip, instead leaning forward to rest his forehead against Edgeworth's. His eyes remained shut, eyebrows drawn, and he exhaled sharply. The prosecutor held him there, refusing to be the first to relent, and for a moment they simply embraced each other, unsure of where the moment would take them.

 

Phoenix opened his eyes partway and Miles was surprised—and disheartened—to see that they were still filled with sadness. Despite this, the lawyer did not attempt to pull away, but couldn't seem to bring himself to make eye contact, either. “You came back for me, didn't you?”

 

“I told you, I was half a man on my own. What point was there to continuing the fight for justice if you weren't there to fight alongside me?” He swallowed against the feelings of loneliness that threatened to overtake him, memories of what it had felt like to stand there surrounded by people in the courtroom yet somehow strikingly alone after he had arrived in Germany, wondering why it felt so empty the second time around. “You were there as a child, you were there when I was a monster, and you were there when I needed somebody to show me that there was still something left that was worth fighting for. It… There was no other answer, Wright. I had to come back.”

 

“And...this?” The lawyer leaned back to finally look him in the eye, retaining his persistent hold on the white fabric around Edgeworth's neck, slipping away from the hand threaded through his hair. Despite the fire behind the statement, the lawyer's stare belied his true emotions and the prosecutor could see that the other man was even more terrified than he was.

 

At a loss for how to fix the situation, Edgeworth instinctively defaulted to his usual blunt self. “An unexpected development, to be sure. I tried to stay away, to give myself more time to prepare...” He winced internally at the way the words sounded. If only he could master making things sound the way they did in his head... As expected, it didn't exactly comfort the other man, and he watched the spell slowly breaking in the blue eyes across from him. Mustering everything he had left in him, the prosecutor pushed forth. “It's...in your hands now, Wright. I came back to start with a clean slate. To build something real this time. None of it...” he could feel his jaw tightening against what he was about to say, every urge in his body screaming at him to conceal his vulnerabilities, to hide it all, to keep hold of the power he was about to hand to the other man. “...none of it really matters unless you want me to be here...with you.”

 

A pregnant silence fell over the two men, punctuated by the wind beginning to howl around them. He was starting to shiver, partly from the cold, mostly from the emotional exhaustion wreaking havoc on his body. He wouldn't leave, though, not until they reached a resolution for better or worse. Edgeworth could feel his fingers knotting against each other fervently and he found solace in picking at a hangnail, thankful for the minor release of tension. Finally, Phoenix's shoulders sagged in defeat and he looked away, unable to fight any longer. “How do I know you won't just leave again?”

 

It was a valid question, and yet it still stung. He wondered if it was better to pull the man closer or to leave him be, allowing him to preserve whatever pride he had left. Awkwardly shooting for something somewhere in the middle, he slid his palm against the side of his friend's neck, drawing his gaze back to his own. “It would be ludicrous to expect you to trust me after everything that's transpired,” he hoped that even a modicum of sincerity had made it from his heart into his words and his eyes so that Phoenix could see that he really meant it, because he needed the man to believe him one more time, “and I can't promise that I won't need to leave again.”

 

As expected, he could almost physically feel the reaction in the other man's body, the expectation of the last knife tucked neatly away next to all the others in his back. His hand held steady against the tanned flesh, however, and he maneuvered to maintain his eye contact, insisting on the other man knowing he was genuine. “But I can at least let you know about it. Where I'm going, what I'm doing... When I'll be back. My work isn't finished in Germany, Wright, but if this is what you decide, if you want me here... Then I'll be here.”

 

Immediately after the words left his mouth, he felt the need to gag on them. If there were any way to be more sycophantic and infantile than that, he couldn't think of it. As usual, what transpired in his thoughts did not translate well to his mouth and he cursed himself, feeling as though he most certainly attempted this far too soon. Damn his impulsiveness. How many times had he gone over this conversation in his head? Hundreds of possibilities had rolled through his mind, pervasive even in his dreams, and yet none of them, good or bad, had come out sounding nearly so tacky. At least if he had ruined his future as a prosecuting attorney, he apparently had a brilliant career waiting for him in daytime television script writing.

 

“I can literally hear you tying yourself into knots, you know.”

 

Snapping out of his self-loathing for what felt like the fifth time that evening, he was surprised to see Phoenix smiling softly at him. Having convinced himself of what he was certain would be rejection, he was entirely ill-prepared to defend himself against the other man's acceptance. Stuttering, all he could manage was to shake his head.

 

“I'm not sure where you're going to find it in you to make up for almost twenty years of forcing me to chase after you,” he chuckled lightly at the implication, knowing full well that it would take vastly more time, effort, and communication than either of them had available in that moment to even begin to rebuild two decades' worth of their strange relationship, “and leave it to you to lay it on thick with that kiss earlier.” The dark-haired attorney reached up with his free hand to rub absentmindedly at his bottom lip. “Just like in court. Always have to drive your point home with that ace up your sleeve.”

 

He snorted, having regained at least some small semblance of his confidence, grateful for the stab at his strategy. Finally, finally, it was something that he knew how to respond to, even if it was obvious that the attorney was throwing him a bone. “If I recall correctly, your response wasn't exactly lacking. Unless, of course, that was also a baseless bluff to buy yourself some time...?”

 

The laugh that rang out in the air surprised him. At long last, Phoenix released his hold on Edgeworth's cravat and ran his hands back through his hair before he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. Suddenly aware of the tension in his body from sitting at such an awkward angle, he leaned back and rolled his shoulders against the back of the bench. Allowing himself the smallest sigh of relief, he stretched, grateful that the worst of the storm between them seemed to have passed.

 

“I've never really thought about being with a man before, you know. It might be a little weird at first. I guess, though, if it were to be any man, it would have to be you…” Phoenix was gazing at the sky again, and Edgeworth found it strangely fitting for the man. Ever since they had met as children, he had felt that his rival’s head was cemented in the clouds, desperate for an anchor if only to bring him to float somewhere in the middle. Then again, he mused, he supposed the opposite could have been said about him, with his nose constantly in a book...

 

He stood, then, and shivered anew at the breeze rolling in off of the ocean. As he glanced around, he noticed a distinct lack of any sort of transportation, shy of his own car in the distant parking lot. Surely he didn't walk here all the way from his office…?

 

He turned to address the other attorney and found that the eyes that met his were surprisingly hesitant. Realizing that it might appear as though he was throwing away the subtle request for patience, he held out his hand and attempted to smile. He wondered if it worked. “At least let me give you a ride home. Neither of us will be any good to anybody if we both catch our deaths out here.”

 

He knew what it sounded like after he had said it and hoped that the other man realized that he didn't mean it that way. Not yet, anyway. As Phoenix tentatively reached for his outstretched hand, he felt the sudden urge to pull him into another kiss, reeling with the dizzying high of at least generating the potential for something to be rebuilt between them. He suppressed the desire as best he could, insisting on being as patient as he could for things to be done right. The last thing he wanted to do after all of that was to push things too far and ruin it for both of them.

 

To his surprise, the brunette leaned forward and pressed his temple against Edgeworth's. It was as much of a thank you as needed to be said. Turning, he started off toward the car, feet awkwardly sliding against the soft white sand beneath, forcing his leather dress shoes to navigate the beach. While they walked, he felt his friend's fingers intertwine with his and he finally allowed himself to breathe again.

 

Chapter 5: Chapter 5

It had been a quiet ride back to the apartment above his office, and if he were honest with himself, while he was certain that his rival had been entirely lost in his thoughts as usual, it had been more difficult on his end to prevent himself from simply dozing off in Edgeworth's car. Between the heated leather seats and the muted roar of the exhaust, it had been nearly impossible to keep his eyes open. He had entertained himself briefly by watching the man switch gears, fascinated yet again by the fact that the prosecutor owned such a flashy car. Even armed with the knowledge ahead of time, he couldn't peg Miles Edgeworth for being a car guy. Maybe he just had money to burn.

 

Following the spectacle of finding a body in his trunk, it appeared as though the man in red had decided he was properly done with imports, even though he had obviously retained his preference for the ostentatious. It even still had that new car smell everyone raved about. Like anything else associated with the prosecutor, his car was perfectly maintained, spotless and expensive. Phoenix felt awkward as he sat there, as though he were some kind of an intruder in his childhood friend's personal universe. If he were a gambler, he'd have bet that the man didn't have many passengers during his day to day business. He was surprised that he’d at least pulled the protective paper off of the floor mats.

 

Upon arrival, as the prosecutor expertly threaded the vehicle in between two beaters nestled against the curb, Phoenix found himself suddenly nervous. He watched out of the corner of his eye as Edgeworth slipped the car into neutral and jerked the parking brake backward, knowing that he had precious few seconds to contribute to what was about to happen. He knew what he would do if he were in the same situation with a girl, but... Although the idea of being with Edgeworth didn't bother him as much as he might have expected it to, he allowed himself to attribute his hesitation to all of the extensive baggage between the two of them. After all, it wasn't as though the man was unattractive, but... For all intents and purposes, the man had been dead a scant few weeks ago. It was simply too bizarre for Phoenix to sort out all at once, and he lacked the energy to do so besides.

 

Still, he found himself a bit disappointed at the prospect of walking back to his apartment alone, if for no other reason than to maximize the amount of time he could actually have the physical reassurance of being able to see his friend alive. He supposed it was a little childish and greedy to want to hold onto him like a favorite blanket, comforted by his mere existence and now the added bonus of Edgeworth having admitted feeling more than just an old sense of camaraderie, but he was too tired at this point to fight it. After everything they had gone through this evening, it probably wasn't the worst thing he could have asked, anyway. At this time yesterday, he was still confident that his friend deliberately avoided him out of spite or resentment. The last few hours had been such a whirlwind he was content to hold on to what was left of it for fear of it slipping away.

 

He turned to the man in the driver's seat and only then realized that Miles was waiting patiently for him to come to a decision, car purring as it idled beneath them. His gaze was steady but his hands were flattened against his thighs and Phoenix fought the urge to smile for a moment. If he waited long enough, he bet that the flat hands would soon turn to fists, even longer and one would migrate to clutch at the man's left elbow. He was comforted by the fact that the unflappable demon prosecutor seemed at least as nervous as he was about all of this. “Uh,” he began lamely, quickly losing confidence as the words tumbled from his mouth, “you wouldn't mind walking me to the door, would you?”

 

A delicate silvery brow rose slightly and Phoenix suddenly felt his resolution crumble, shamed by his neediness. The prosecutor simply smirked, however, and pressed the ignition button to cut the engine. “Afraid of getting kidnapped, Wright?”

 

The defense glared at the prosecution, though there was no heat in it. He had gotten used to reading between the lines when Edgeworth spoke, and it was as much of an agreement as he was going to get. As they exited the vehicle, he took care not to fingerprint the window when he closed the door. The car probably cost more than a few year's rent as far as he could assume, and he felt obligated to treat it with reverence, despite knowing full well that the prosecutor probably had a full team of detailers at his disposal. He paused to hear the chirp of the alarm being set, and as the other man rounded the front bumper, he impulsively reached out and held his hand.

 

Whether it was out of affection or simply his way of trying to keep Edgeworth from disappearing again, he couldn't tell. He was grateful, however, when the other man laced his fingers between the attorney's instead of pulling away. He wasn't sure if Edgeworth was purposefully being lenient with him because of the emotional trauma of the evening or if this was something new as well, but for now he was content to follow his instincts and see what happened. If it worked well enough in court, he supposed, it could probably work here, too. Edgeworth had never let him properly fail before, at least not since his initial epiphany over Dee Vasquez's cross-examination. He prayed to whomever would listen that his friend would keep him afloat now as well.

 

As they reached the door, Phoenix's belly flipped uncomfortably while he weighed his options. On the one hand, he could invite the other man in, knowing full well the implications of doing so. Even so, they were likely both exhausted and he would probably only irritate his friend with his request. On the other hand, he could leave him go and hope that the progress they had made tonight would stand on its own. Either way, he was fearful that if he reached out tomorrow, he would discover that it had all been a wonderfully terrible dream, serving only to remind him of the pain of losing his dearest friend all those months ago. When Edgeworth attempted to pull his hand away to leave, Phoenix held tight, and tugged the man back toward him.

 

Reminiscent of when Miles had shocked him to his very core by making the first move, the defense attorney tilted his head and gently kissed the other man. Despite their lengthy discussion, he felt the prosecutor jump slightly under his ministrations before righting himself. The contact was chaste and gentle, ending with a soft smack of separation. The concept of maintaining any sort of contact with, much less kissing Edgeworth was still so bizarre to him that, while the sensation was definitely not unpleasant, Phoenix found himself more tempted to do it again just to see if it was something real. Despite knowing full well that the prosecutor was well and truly human, it was difficult not to think of him more as a concept, an untouchable paragon that remained above petty interactions like holding hands or kissing.

 

Still… he pressed his lips together momentarily, trying to digest the feeling of the intimate action.

 

“One for the road?”

 

A quiet baritone chuckle laced the air and he felt the tip of Edgeworth's nose bump his own before the man kissed him fully, the chill of the night air still lingering on his nose and cheeks as he pressed into the attorney. Despite the incredulity of the situation as a whole, Phoenix felt himself smiling as he obliged his rival, keeping his own pace gentle and exploratory. The man wasn’t half-bad, he mused, but who was he to talk of experience, anyway… They both paused as they parted, sharing a meaningful glance, and then they separated.

 

Edgeworth turned and descended the stairs. Phoenix watched him with mild interest as he unlocked his car and swung himself into the driver's seat, closing the heavy door as quietly as he could manage. The attorney's hand idly groped behind him for the doorknob despite his attention being focused on the sports car until he could no longer see the tail lights in the distance. When he finally found it, he turned, somehow surprised when it refused to open. Oh, the lock, duh...

 

His hands fiddled in his pocket to find his keys and he let himself in, feeling as though he was seeing his living room for the first time. He wasn't sure what time it was but was certain it was quite late, and he knew that Maya would be sleeping soundly in her bedroom by now. He closed the door behind him and hung his keys on the hook next to the door frame, wondering why his hands were shaking so much. His feet kicked his shoes off on the rubber mat on the floor as if he were moving mechanically and he padded across the small apartment to his bedroom, eager to get into bed.

 

What…the hell just happened??

 

What had his life turned into, all of a sudden? Six hours ago, he was miserable and enduring a party in his own office that he didn't even help plan, much less endorse. His heart had been dark and his soul had been heavy with regrets and anger. He had gone through the day half-heartedly, and if he could remember half the phone calls he had taken for client consultations, he would be impressed. It was all a blur. The “party” had been...well, something, and at the time, he didn't really have the heart to tell Maya that he wasn't feeling it. He was sure his face had said everything his mouth hadn’t, anyway… The only thing that had brought him a minute amount of comfort as he’d slammed back some shots was that Miles Edgeworth had looked at least as miserable as he was, and the party was for him to begin with. He remembered feeling a little guilty that he was happy all the attention was on his friend, for once.

 

His thoughts flipped briefly to the heated argument the men had shared amongst themselves while the crowd fretted over them in the background. He winced. He knew that he had certainly said things that he really didn’t mean, had been venting all of the anger and sadness that he’d kept pent up over the last year. Edgeworth had certainly returned the heat in kind, and Phoenix sighed, hoping that he, too, was just blowing off steam. Somehow, things always just sounded worse when he said them…

 

When had he left? Three shots in? Four? He couldn't remember. He didn't drink often and remembered how quickly the alcohol had seemed to sneak up on him. He only knew that he had found his opportunity as everyone had called for speeches to welcome back their beloved “demon prosecutor” and he had slipped out the door, unheeded by the crowd. Wanting to be away from the noise and the false smiles and the insulting celebration in and of itself, he had quickly picked a direction and simply started walking, stopping only when he had hit a dead end with a bench. It hadn't been long before Edgeworth had found him lost in thought, and then everything was flipped on its head...

 

His room was a stark contrast to the man with whom he had just spent the evening. While it wasn't exactly slovenly, he took in the few clothing items strewn about the floor with mild concern, judging himself by a previously nonexistent standard. Yanking his sweatshirt and shirt up over his head in one movement, he tossed them haphazardly toward the hamper, shuddering against the air on his newly bare chest. Edgeworth was meticulous enough that he probably even made his bed every day, and Phoenix found it a little strange that he now had a reason to even be thinking about that kind of thing.

 

He took a look at himself in the small mirror propped up on the single dresser. While it was true that he had done a lot of slacking off since he had begun mourning his best friend's death, he had always tried to at least keep himself in some kind of respectable shape. It had been easier in high school and college, he remembered, when the gym was free and the competition for the dating pool was fierce enough to motivate him. Now, he supposed, his lack of driver’s license did the trick, and he found himself wondering if Edgeworth would find him attractive. Again, he shook his head at such a question, never having expected to have to consider it.

 

Still, the man did make the first move... That had to count for something, right? The prosecutor said that he’d spent a year reforming himself and still decided to come back and pursue Phoenix. While he had teased the man about making up for almost two decades of absence, he supposed he’d never been desirable enough to anyone else for them to spend a year in isolation to completely overhaul their personality and then fly halfway across the world to surprise him with a kiss and an offer of rebuilding their relationship from scratch. Hell, his last serious girlfriend hadn’t even liked him, much less pulled off a stunt like that. A wave of self-consciousness washed over him and he turned away from his reflection, inexplicably shy.

 

If nothing else, it was one hell of a start.

 

As his hands undid his belt and he dropped his jeans to the floor, he found his thoughts racing, reviewing the events of that evening. Who could have anticipated something like...well, any of this? He kicked his jeans toward the hamper as well, failing to care about the belt or his wallet or anything else other than climbing into bed. His socks and boxers were the last to go and, with one last glance to ensure his door was locked, he laid gracelessly onto his mattress and pulled the covers up to his chin. His head was still swimming a bit from the shots that he’d tossed back and he grimaced for a moment, wishing he hadn’t overdone it.

 

What happened now?

 

As tired as he was, the question gave him pause. What happened now? It wasn't as if things would magically transform into a cozy relationship and they would go on dates and hold hands and everyone would cheer for them. He tried to imagine sitting in a nice restaurant across from the prosecutor, wondered what small talk they would have and if it would be as painfully awkward as he seemed to think it would be. Did the man even like restaurants? He stared at the ceiling, suddenly struck with the notion that despite nearly twenty years of effort to find his long-lost friend, he had no idea what the guy actually liked, aside from tea, the Steel Samurai, and yelling at Phoenix in the courtroom.

 

Boy, doesn't that just scream romance? He sighed, lamenting how complicated his life had gotten, and allowed his eyes to slide shut. Instead of trying to plan so far ahead, he reminded himself, as usual, of Mia's parting advice to him. “When you feel stuck, try looking at things from another angle...”

 

He considered the man himself. Although he had never genuinely searched for it before, it was easy to acknowledge that the prosecutor was certainly attractive. The man had been blessed with symmetrical features, clear skin, nice bone structure... From an artistic standpoint, he could have been model material. He’d heard the rumors, of course, of just how many sought after the prosecutor. He’d lost count of how many women, and even some men, who he had overheard speaking in hushed tones and giggles as Edgeworth had passed by in the courthouse, speculating about who he’d be interested in and would he be a good kisser and is he a top or a bottom… He blushed, unused to thinking of his friend so inappropriately. Even he had entertained the idea on rare occasions, more out of curiosity than anything, but it had always been easy to assume that the man had someone he’d simply kept as private as everything else in his life…

 

His thoughts wandered briefly to what might be hiding under all the frills and fabrics that seemed to consistently encase his childhood friend. He recalled the way the cravat had felt crushed within his fist and he entertained the thought of removing it (how does it even come off?) to reveal more alabaster skin. Perhaps he could undo a few buttons, then? The artist in him expertly manipulated the image in his mind and he cocked his head, considering the image.

 

Wouldn't look right with the sportcoat... Just like that, his thoughts produced an image of Edgeworth clad in his crisp white shirt, top few buttons undone so that his collarbones played peek-a-boo, sultry stare behind the man's bangs. Even so, it still looked strange with the prosecutor's vest, and so he did away with that, too. Now we're getting somewhere.

 

It was odd to imagine the man even that casual, having never seen him in anything but strangely formal dress even as children. As he thought about what he might look like, however, stood—sitting?—yes, sitting in front of him, shirt slightly undone, sleeves rolled to his elbows, socked feet crossed at the ankle... His mind was on a roll now, and he took a deep, shuddering breath, feeling something stir within him. Okay, where's he sitting, Phoenix?

 

He was sitting on the couch in the living room, reclined comfortably, head back and pillowed by the upholstery. The lighting was low and the sounds of the city served as an ambient orchestra outside, matching a sort of metropolitan soundtrack to the building tension in the room. It was...late summer and warm, and there was a terrific thunderstorm outside. As lightning flashed, it reflected the prosecutor's skin in gold.

 

The defense attorney could envision himself watching, fixated, as Edgeworth’s long, manicured fingers would reach up, popping each button apart, maddeningly slow in his actions. As he fantasized about each agonizing inch of pale flesh that the man revealed to him, he was somewhat surprised to feel a familiar pull in his loins and he indulged it, allowing his thoughts to run away with the vision. Soon, Miles Edgeworth was sitting in front of him with his shirt laid open and his chest bare, clad from the waist down in his tailored pants and socks, staring him down with the same predatory glare he used when he had Phoenix on the run during a trial.

 

He knew that he had a bad habit of falling fast and hard for his romantic interests, had tried in the past to prevent it when he saw it coming, but truth be told the prosecutor's actions that night had addressed a need within him that had been ignored for far too long. Even though Phoenix was still a little unsure about the whole situation, he allowed his hand to sneak between the sheet and the comforter, going back to what he could conjure up in his mind. He felt his manhood jump beneath his palm as he stroked it slowly, relishing the feel of the soft sheets separating his hand from his swollen flesh. It wasn’t so farfetched for him to act first and think later…

 

Why should this be any different? Can’t hurt to try…

 

What would he do, when faced with that? Surely if they continued the way things went tonight, it was inevitable, wasn't it? He tried to think of what Edgeworth would be like in such a situation. He could see the man standing gracefully and flexing his toned shoulders so that his shirt slid along lightly muscled arms, fingers nimbly catching the garment to drape it across the arm of the couch. Having so recently gotten a taste of the man, Phoenix's lips trembled with the memory of the gentle power he'd felt behind the kiss and wondered what it would feel like if he could embrace the body he envisioned before him, could press his mouth against that slender throat and feel the flesh and blood quiver beneath him. He chewed his bottom lip and questioned whether Edgeworth would allow him to push him back down onto the couch and admire him further. He wasn't positive he would take no for an answer and his fantasy adjusted accordingly. Even in his mind, Phoenix could almost feel the heat coming from Edgeworth’s body as he pressed lightly against the man’s shoulders to guide him back down onto the couch.

 

His thoughts then took him to his knees in front of the man, hands reaching for the leather belt secured around a trim waist. Even in his imagination, things were mostly silent, punctuated only by the sounds of quiet gasps and his own panting. He made quick work of the belt but remembered the torture the man had put him through with his dress shirt and so he paused to sample the soft skin on the prosecutor's belly, nipping gently along the waistline of his pants. He let his hands roam freely, feeling out the various dips and swells along the man's torso, delighted to hear the growl barely suppressed in the back of Edgeworth's throat. It was easy, then, to imagine trailing his eyes up the muscled body so he could see the desire in the other man's eyes as he undid the button on his pants...and then, ever so slowly, the zipper...

 

His breath caught in his chest as his palm pressed harder, fingers lightly clasping around his fully erect member, and he slowed his actions, wanting to truly savor the feeling. He could imagine tugging the other man's pants down to reveal...what would he wear? He felt a grin cover his face as he quickly conjured the image of Edgeworth in briefs. Absolutely not. Boxers? Too sloppy... He squeezed himself lightly and thought of the prosecutor's hips clad in black, clingy boxer briefs, dark fabric seamlessly painted across muscular thighs. Red pants gave way to ivory skin, and even in his own fantasy, he gazed at the other man's erection straining against the spandex and felt a flutter of nervousness.

 

Bet he'd make me fold his pants before I did anything else...He snorted to himself and brought his hand back up, sliding it properly under the sheet and reaching further down to cup himself. His back arched off of the bed as he rolled himself against his palm, unwilling—unable—to stop himself at this point. Fantasy Miles threaded his fingers through Phoenix's hair just as his real counterpart had done on the bench earlier, grabbing a fistful of ebony spikes and encouraging him further. It was easy to indulge him in his mind, easy to believe that he liked whatever the attorney had to offer, and he imagined that as he brushed his lips along the distinct outline in the expensive compression shorts, he could smell musk and cologne and testosterone.

 

He gasped quietly to himself as he gripped his manhood tightly and began to stroke himself as he continued the image of Edgeworth spread before him, lifting his hips off the couch as Phoenix peeled the shorts from his body, ivory skin flush with anticipation. He tried to think of what it would feel like to tease Miles with his mouth, tried to imagine the sounds the other man would make when he gave him just enough to entice him but not enough to take him all the way. He wondered idly if he liked the same things that Phoenix liked, or if he had his own set of mysterious desires. How easy would it be to find them out?

 

He tried to think, then, of what it would feel like when he finally slid the other man's weeping arousal between his lips, finally giving him what he ached for, and he began to stroke himself in his fantasy as he did in his bed. It felt right in his head to try to fit as much of the man as he could, using his free hand to cover what he couldn't swallow. He could nearly feel the way that Edgeworth's fist unwittingly pulled the back of his hair as he urged him along, frustrated with the pace, too proud to beg but willing to risk it with his actions.

 

He could almost feel the heat of the other man's thighs against his cheeks as he thought about it, could almost hear the deep growling baritone of the other man's voice urging him to go faster, could almost taste the salt and the sweat and the bitter jewel that slid out from the tip of the prosecutor's manhood and he reached down with his other hand to squeeze his testicles as his pace quickened.

 

The more he allowed himself to think about it, the more he wanted to know how accurate his fantasy was. Would Miles end up being vocal as he lost control over himself? Would he remain stoic, offering only a hitch in his breath as warning before he found his climax? Phoenix bit back a moan as he entertained both possibilities. He was at a frantic pace now, driven by the vision of Edgeworth's head tossed back in ecstasy, shaft pulsing against his tongue as he hit his limit. He had just enough time to imagine himself clambering up into the other man's lap so that the prosecutor could wrap his hands around Phoenix and stroke him aggressively, leaning forward to whisper filthy nothings into his ear.

 

That's it, Wright... Give me what I want...

 

The attorney's breath left him as he came, biting the inside of his cheek to keep quiet and shooting thick white jets onto his own belly. It had been a long time since his last release and it felt almost endless, leaving him dizzy and spent in its wake. It was all he could do to keep the top sheet from resting in the mess he had made and he awkwardly maneuvered it off of himself, reaching for a dirty t-shirt to clean himself up. As he wiped absentmindedly at his body, he finally glanced at the alarm clock glowing red on his night stand.

 

3:17, huh? Tomorrow's gonna be rough...

 

Physically and emotionally exhausted, he chucked the dirty t-shirt into the hamper and crawled back into bed, still wobbly and euphoric. It was a strange and unexpected turn of events, to be sure, but for the first time in nearly a year, Phoenix Wright fell asleep smiling.

 

 

Chapter 6: Chapter 6

Edgeworth sat in his car, blank.

 

Staring distantly ahead over the dash to where the headlights on the car illuminated the back wall of his garage, his mind tumbled frantically over upon itself, desperate to catalogue all of the information from the day. Images, words, sentences, phrases, tastes, breathless stuttering, plans, obstacles… His consciousness was a whirl of kinetic energy, ruthless in its attempts to make sense of the last twelve hours. Soon, the headlights timed out and dimmed to darkness, leaving only him and the quiet serenade of the engine settling, clicking and tutting as it tucked itself in for the night. He blinked once, twice, and wondered where he was going to find the energy to get up and into his house.

 

Well, that certainly wasn’t how I expected that to go…

 

Blue eyes flashed vibrant and sad across his memory and he clung to the image for a moment, digesting the emotions that it brought about. He was oversaturated with it all, marveling for a moment at how chaotic it felt to simply feel, and he wasn’t entirely sure that he was adequately equipped to deal with it. Admittedly, life had been much easier when all he had to worry about was getting people sentenced and neatly filed away in prison. Still, he supposed, the night’s events had ended up in his favor one way or another, and it was a wonderful problem to have. The ambient sounds that emanated from his car had finally quieted, signaling to him that he should probably get to settling in for the night, himself.

 

He pulled his coat, photo, and briefcase out of the back seat and exited the car mechanically, setting the lock with the touch pad on the door and fishing out the key for the basement deadbolt. The muted sounds of Pess waited for him on the inside and he smiled impulsively, listening to the gentle taps of her claws on the tile floor. Ever grateful that she wasn’t a noisy dog, he made quick work of the lock and swung the door open, chuckling at her excitement to see him despite the late hour. There had been a time where he had truly believed that only she could love him despite all of his indiscretions, but now… As he knelt to stroke her head in greeting, he sighed.

 

“I think I may be putting the cart before the horse, Pess,” he murmured to her and stood, much to her disappointment. He swiftly cut his thoughts before they could run any further, before they could develop into any sort of optimistic predictions. It was too early for that. An image of von Karma drifted into his mind, severe and towering, as he drilled a younger Miles on trial procedures one winter morning. His voice was deep and intimidating even in memory, reverberating through his head as if it had been yesterday.

 

“Never assume that you have won until you’ve already received your verdict,” he could still hear the sound that the bull whip had made on his desk and he flinched at the violent crack that had landed upon his body countless times, “a victory is never assured until the battle is over, which is why we must constantly strive toward perfection. Anything less must be considered a complete and utter failure…” He closed his eyes and swallowed against the memory, irritated that they still haunted him even now. It would figure, he mused, that von Karma wouldn’t settle for being disregarded, even after his conviction. Distantly, Edgeworth wondered if the man was even still alive. A pang of guilt rippled through him at allowing himself to think such a callous thing about the man who had effectively become his father, but still…

 

After all the things that von Karma had instilled in him, he was comfortable acknowledging that the cons had outweighed the pros in the end. He wouldn’t go so far as to wish ill of him, but he wasn’t exactly inclined to reach out to him, either.

 

A deep, quiet boof took his attention and he glanced down, surprised to see two empty bowls and a sad dog. “Ah, sorry…” He hung his coat on the hook near the door and took the bowls over to the small kitchenette in the basement, wondering why it was so easy to apologize to his pet but not his closest friends. As he filled the stainless-steel bowls with kibble and fresh water, he spoke over his shoulder. “I guess I stayed out later than I had intended this evening. Something happened with an old acquaintance—ah, an old friend of mine.”  The bowls made a soft, metallic sound as he set them down and he watched Pess drink sloppily.

 

He wondered what people would think of him if they knew that he held his best conversations with his dog. He knew that if he had found out the same information about anyone else, it would be his first instinct to ridicule them, to suggest that perhaps they were insane for thinking the animal could even understand, much less respond. The acknowledgement soured his thoughts and he shook his head, disgusted with himself.

 

Was it so bad, he wondered, to find a friend in a creature that couldn’t talk back? Ever since he had taken in the stray that they’d found nearly two decades ago and, trembling, begged his father to allow him to keep the mutt, he’d had a special place in his heart for his canine companions over the years. He’d been stunned when von Karma had allowed him to retain the poor creature, and he thought back to what it had felt like in the back of the opulent limousine clutching his backpack in one arm and the dog in the other, knowing that all his possessions in the world were right there with him, knowing that his friends would be looking for him the next day…

 

He caught himself grinding his teeth and mentally forced himself to relax. That was almost twenty years ago and he was a different man, now. For better or for worse, he had even found those same friends again, or at least he’d been found by them. He snorted. Leave it to Phoenix Wright to be so bull-headed that he would hunt down a kid he knew for barely a year across two continents over seventeen years just to…what? The notion still confounded him. What, exactly, was so special about him that anyone would go through all that effort simply to find him? What did he want?

 

“I've built my entire life around you, you know.”

 

His mouth made a small noise, bleeding the pressure built up in his thoughts. He’d never asked anyone to inconvenience themselves so much over his mere existence, much less anything he’d done for them. His feet carried him toward the stairs and he patted his thigh, calling for Pess to follow him as he ascended. All of this over some classroom “trial” where he’d been so completely fed up with the childishness of it all that he’d had to step in just to put a stop to all the racket. Who would have thought that it would have lead to this? What even was “this”?

 

He maneuvered the spartan living quarters expertly in the dark, motivated by his desire to warm up in a hot shower before he got into bed. As he slid out of his sport coat and hung it in his closet, he sighed deeply. It occurred to him that even though he told the defense attorney that the ball was in his court, he got the distinct impression that he would have to take the lead, at least for a little while. The notion disquieted him. His fingers navigated the complicated, satin-covered buttons of his vest and it, too, was hung next to the others in his wardrobe. Well, you started it… His fingers ran along the ruffles of his cravat before undoing the button in back, and he stared at it for just a moment, seeking out any wrinkles that might have been left behind from its unexpected abuse earlier. Satisfied that it was still presentable, he draped it over one of the hooks on the closet door. Finally, he made quick work of his shirts and tossed them into the decorative wicker hamper that sat neatly tucked in the corner. Now, how do you intend to finish this?

 

He stood for a moment and folded his arms. What exactly did he want out of this?

 

The prosecutor frowned and bent to remove his shoes. It would be irresponsible of him to back out now, wouldn’t it? He lamented that he hadn’t put more thought into planning what he would do if Phoenix turned out to be amenable to his actions. Although he had genuinely planned on expressing his interests to the other attorney, he had expected things to have played out on a much longer timeline, but here he was now. His pants slid along his legs easily and pooled at his feet before he stepped away from them, plucking them off the floor and neatly arranging them so that they, too, hung tidily from their bottom hems in the closet. His thumbs hooked into his boxer briefs and removed them in a deft motion before he tossed the pair on top of his shirt in the laundry and made for the master bathroom.

 

It wasn’t so far-fetched for him to entertain a relationship with a male. He’d had male and female partners alike throughout his adolescence, though the encounters had been fleeting and stunted by his grueling studies. This, however, felt different somehow, and as he turned the shower on to a punishing temperature, he turned the consideration over in his head, pondering the best course of action.

 

As he stepped under the stream of water, he gasped, immediately gritting his teeth against the stinging heat of the shower beating against his chest. It felt good in a way, biting at his skin and causing his breath to catch as he forced himself to remain still until he adjusted. The heat seeped into his joints and chased the cold of the evening away. At long last, he turned away from the showerhead and leaned forward to brace himself against the wall, enjoying the way the water pressure felt at his back. Stop procrastinating and make up your mind, Miles. What do you want this to become?

 

He could feel his hair slide back, whisked away in the stream from the shower head as he leaned his head back into the water and allowed his eyes to shut. He wanted Phoenix. He wanted to have his friendship and he wanted to have more than his friendship, and he wanted to have his rivalry, and he wanted those infuriating blue eyes to look at him the same way they looked at him after they had teamed up to get Dee Vasquez put away, and he wanted his stupid optimism and his laughter and his unwavering devotion, no matter how much he felt he didn’t deserve it. More than anything, really, he wanted to be somebody that was wanted, and he wanted Phoenix to be the one who wanted him. From what he could tell so far, there was at least potential for that much.

 

He straightened and braced himself against the side wall, twisting nimbly and savoring the pop-pop-pop that traveled up his spine. After the extensive tension of the evening he was feeling even more tightly wound than usual and wondered how his friend had fared after he’d dropped him off. Had he lied awake and examined the events of the evening, or had he gone straight to bed? Was he upset? Ashamed? …Excited? There were too many variables for him to consider and he grabbed at the bar of soap on the shelf, frustrated. The defense attorney had spent over half his life trailing him, could probably write a biography on him if he had the time, and yet here he was standing in the shower in the middle of the night unable to produce even a tentative profile of the person he’d kissed no sooner than half an hour prior.

 

He idly rubbed the soap against his skin and wondered where they would go from here. In an ideal world, he supposed they should date for a while until they ultimately ended up in bed together, should take it slow and learn more about each other and develop something meaningful, but… He set the bar of soap down and went to work with his hands, smoothing his palms over his flesh, aided by the silkiness of the white lather. Did they really have to go through all of that? His hands slid dangerously low for where his thoughts were turning and he brought them back up around the back of his neck for a moment. For everything their relationship was, he was willing to admit that it most certainly was not traditional.

 

His fingertips worked the muscles at the base of his skull as he thought about the way it felt to move his mouth against the other man’s that evening. It had been quite some time since he’d been with anyone at all, much less someone with whom he shared as much history as he did with the brunette. Even though he couldn’t recite the attorney’s favorite color or describe his apartment or state whether he was a dog or a cat person, he felt as though he knew his rival well enough to at least have a solid foundation. After all, he did know that the man was compassionate and honest to a fault. He knew that Phoenix would fall on a sword for his loved ones, knew that he was smarter than he sounded, knew that he had an unwavering belief in his convictions and in those of his friends’. Wasn’t that a good place to start?

 

His hands trailed a bit further and his thumbs worked at his chest under his collar bones, easing out the stress of the day. Their contact that evening had been simple, experimental, still hesitant and dangerous… He could still feel the abrasiveness of the other man’s stubble where it had rubbed against his face, could still taste the intoxicating cocktail of their tongues sliding against each other, could still smell the way his cologne and deodorant mixed with the salt of the air around them. Impulsiveness be damned, he couldn’t find it within himself to regret what he’d done that evening. He closed his eyes and could feel his mouth moving, aching to experience it all again. How long had he wondered how it would feel?

 

There had been a moment where he had felt an almost irrepressible desire to follow the defense attorney into his apartment when he’d dropped him off. Even now as he felt his hands trail lower still, he thought back to how desperately he had wanted to push the man inside and pin him against the wall, to hold him there and really kiss him… He felt himself beginning to grow hard and pulled his hands away from his body. It wouldn’t do to rush things, especially if his rival was unused to being with a man, but he knew already that it would be an enormous test of his self-control to be patient. He had grown used to getting what he wanted no matter the cost, and now that he’d already gotten a foot in the door... As much as he prided himself on maintaining a certain air about himself, it had always been easy to find someone to satisfy his urges with, someone who didn’t matter and wouldn’t call back the next day and whose heart he didn’t mind throwing out when he was done.

 

I’m not like that anymore. He repeated the mantra to himself, chasing the shameful thoughts of all those he’d lain with and forgotten, utilitarian tools serving only to rid him of the distraction from his studies. I’m not like that anymore. It can be different now, with him. He deserves it.

 

Despite his best efforts, he could tell that his state of arousal wouldn’t leave him be so easily, and he chased the image of Phoenix in his mind as it surfaced yet again, wondering how fast was too fast. On the one hand, developing a physical relationship with the man so quickly could unravel everything before it had even taken hold, assuming that he was even interested in engaging the prosecutor in that area so soon, but on the other… He stared down at himself and sighed. On the other hand, he would do almost anything to have the other man pinned against the wall in front of him, soaking wet, crying out into the billowing clouds of steam while the prosecutor had his way with him.

 

Oh, Miles, you’ve got it bad, don’t you…?

 

He gripped his arousal roughly and stroked himself a few times, wondering if he had the energy to bother taking care of his newest problem. The soap removed a bit of the usual friction he was used to and he sighed quietly at the delicious silkiness, indulging himself for a moment longer before forcing both hands against the wall once more. To have the defense attorney stood before him taut and looming, eyes half lidded, lips swollen… He’d be equally as intrigued to discover what it would feel like to be trapped by the other man, to have his thighs wrapped indelicately around the trim waist, to bury his nose in the crown of ebony spikes as he moved against the bare, broad chest.

 

A snarl caught in the back of his throat as he surrendered to the vision, bracing himself against the wall with his forearm and stroking himself anew with his other hand. How many times had he visited these fantasies? How long had he tried in vain to ignore them as they kept him up at night, refusing to entertain the smallest notion of anything ever developing between the two of them? How long since he had given up on fighting and instead stoked the furious blaze that his mind had created, filthy desires braided in with heartache and loneliness and visions of tenderness in the night? His pace was quick and his knees buckled under the waves of pleasure that coursed through him, frantic to purge his mind from the pervasive thoughts of his childhood friend and the man he’d turned into.

 

He could remember the shock that had rippled through him the first time they faced each other across the courtroom, how it had felt to look into a face so alien to him after all those years and yet as familiar as if he’d seen the man the day prior. Phoenix Wright had grown into himself and yet stayed just a bit rough around the edges, with skin that was mildly scarred from teen acne and shaving nicks, a body that was obviously fit but clothed in a cheap, poorly-tailored suit, with eyes that blazed with passion and intelligence but were tainted by inexperience and fear at the same time. It had been easy, then, to ignore the other man’s boyish charm in favor of pursuing his precious guilty verdict. It wasn’t until his rival had muddied the waters with his infuriating insistence upon reminding the prosecutor of his humanity that he’d ever so slowly begun his descent into madness over the smile that cut like sunbeams through an August storm cloud.

 

His voice cried out softly against the echoing rush of the water as he caught his release, hand trembling as it continued its onslaught through the pulsing waves of ecstasy. His mind was filled with the memory of clutching the other man against him, of the way he smelled and tasted, of how deep and hoarse his voice had been, carried like a siren song on the night breeze. Patience be damned, he’d fought for a year to become something worthy of the defense attorney’s infectious integrity. Now that he knew that he had a chance, now that he’d seen that Phoenix was at least willing to try, it was only a matter of time before he’d find a way to make it all worth it.

 

Shaking his seed from his hand, he did another brief pass over with the soap, taking care to run it through his hair this time. Physically satisfied, his thoughts returned with a vengeance to his plan of action. Left with very little information, he decided to treat it instead as though he were grooming a witness. After a final rinse, he cut the water and reached blindly for the towel hung outside the door, feeling unusually inspired now that he was approaching things with a clearer head. If he could build rapport with the likes of Wendy Oldbag, surely he could stoke the weak flames that had sprouted between him and his rival. If nothing else, he knew for certain that the other attorney was a hopeless romantic with a flair for the theatric.

 

He paused.

 

A hopeless romantic with a flair for the theatric, hm? His brow furrowed as he resumed drying himself. One of the advantages he knew that he had over his childhood friend was his ability to strategize. If Wright was anything like he was in the courtroom, the man’s bleeding heart and naivete would make for easy targets as long as he played his cards right. It would take some assessment, he knew, to figure out just what strings to pluck, but he’d laid the foundation already… The towel flipped easily over the shower door and he strode out of the bathroom, encouraged by the potential of it all. It wasn’t that he was going to intentionally manipulate the man into falling for him, or at least that’s what he told himself. He was simply going to…encourage him in the right direction.

 

You know he’ll probably throw a few curveballs at you.

 

He was surprised by the smirk that curved his mouth at the thought. This, he mused, this was why he had returned: The thrill of battle with the only man who had ever bested him. As he slid into bed, he crossed his arms behind his head and chuckled lightly to himself, relishing the feel of adrenaline that quickened his pulse. While he had originally planned on settling for simply getting back into the courtroom and engaging the other attorney in their usual manner, this new adventure offered its own set of welcomed challenges. This time, however, the stakes were significantly higher, and he stared at his ceiling as he considered them.

 

Technically speaking, the only winner of their usual sparring matches was justice itself, as he was now confident that if the two of them were paired, there was no way they would fail to find the truth, no matter how grizzly or concealed. Now, however, there would be a deeply personal victory or defeat. If he won this little battle of theirs, he supposed he could consider their relationship legitimate in all but the most severe senses. His head lolled to the side and he stared at the undisturbed linen next to him, trying to imagine his rival lying there. What kind of sleeper was he? He stared back at the ceiling, amused. Knowing Phoenix Wright, the man probably stole the blankets, took up most of the bed and slept diagonally, stubborn even in slumber.

 

If he lost, however…

 

He frowned, annoyed at the disturbance in his assurance. If he failed to do this correctly and win the other man over, he supposed that it would effectively terminate whatever tenuous relationship they already had. As badly as he would love to believe that they could just go back to the way it was before, he knew that realistically, things like that just didn’t happen in real life. Even now, despite their weak, but existing agreement to at least give things a try, nothing was guaranteed. For all he knew, he could contact the man in the morning and discover that he was not interested after all, that he’d been drunk, or confused, or had felt obligated…

 

He shook his head.

 

If nothing else, the one thing that persisted through all of the years of anguish and separation was that he trusted his friend. It felt easy and natural for him to believe that, at the very least, Phoenix would have been honest with him no matter what was said on that bench that evening. It comforted him to know that, for whatever reasons his rival had found to do so, the attorney trusted him as well, for the most part. He was grateful for that and, as sleep finally began to claw at him, he vowed not to take it for granted.

 

Reaching over to his nightstand, he plugged in his cell phone and unlocked it, navigating quickly to his messages. Staring blearily at the screen with one eye, pierced by the blinding light in the darkness, he found the thread labeled “Wright” and selected it.

 

“Be ready for 7pm Friday. Don’t look homeless this time.”

 

Satisfied that he’d done his part, Miles Edgeworth rolled over and dozed off, savoring the new  emptiness where nightmares had once dwelled.

Chapter 7: Chapter 7

Phoenix stared at his reflection, inexplicably anxious.

 

His eyes combed over every intricate detail, meticulously dissecting every aspect of his appearance. He had never been overly attentive to his looks, always trusting that he was attractive enough in his own right and would likely make things worse if he went muddling with the mundane details, but now…? He reached up and twiddled with a spike, having chosen to leave his usual style softer for the evening, wondering if he should stiffen his hair for what was probably the 40^th time that hour. The thick black locks crowned his head and fell slightly in back, and while he enjoyed the change in routine, he wondered if his date for the evening would appreciate it in turn.

 

Date. I have a date. Edgeworth is taking me on a date?

 

He fished his phone out of his pocket and re-opened the text message, reading it again, ensuring that he wasn’t losing his mind. The words were still there, timestamped for just after four in the morning the previous Saturday. It was real. This was happening. He stared back at his reflection, convinced that he was going to throw up before he made it out the door. It had been nigh impossible to simply make it through the week without having a nervous breakdown. Maya must have asked him a thousand and one times what was bugging him but he couldn’t quite find it within himself to give her the real truth about his plans with the celebrity prosecutor. He couldn’t remember what excuse he’d made up for why he was on constant pins and needles, but he was positive she hadn’t bought it.

 

What a difference six days could make.

 

He was dressed simply, having been amused and yet lightly embarrassed by the implication that he had looked homeless the last he’d seen his friend. I guess most people would look homeless when compared to Edgeworth… The attorney smoothed his hands against his outfit, lamenting the fact that his palms were sweating. He’d chosen a thick, white t-shirt and a simple black collared button-down over top of it that he let hang loose over a pair of dark jeans. He’d been grateful to Maya for managing to iron out the wrinkles in the hems, even if she’d had to use her hair straightener. Even now, he scanned obsessively, looking for any snag or hair or loose button that might stand out over the evening. Satisfied that he was as good as he was going to get, he spritzed on some cologne and shut out the bedroom light.

 

It was nearing seven o’clock, he was certain, and as the minutes ticked by, his anxiety increased tenfold. In the far recesses of his mind he knew he was being ridiculous; after all, this was a man he had technically known since childhood, had defended in not one, but two homicide trials, and had already kissed. Although he hadn’t seen his rival since their strange encounter over the weekend, they had texted each other throughout the week. Their exchanges had been fleeting and typically spanned over several hours, but the words they’d exchanged had been lighthearted and teasing for the most part. He had been immensely grateful for the continued contact and cherished it as reassurance that he hadn’t simply imagined the entire experience, even if he was now mildly annoyed that his heart leapt into his throat every time he felt his phone go off. A simple outing should be a no-brainer, and yet, he was more nervous than he’d been for his first trial. He paced, fretting over what they might get up to. Where were they even going?

 

He paused.

 

Were they going anywhere? He supposed the text he’d received didn’t exactly specify what to be ready for, just to be ready and not to look homeless. Shaking his head, he sighed at himself and patted his pants, reassured by the feel of his typical phone-keys-wallet ensemble. At least he’d remembered the essentials, right? What else could he need? Staring bleakly around his apartment and cracking his knuckles, he glanced at the clock on the wall and was dismayed to note that it was only 6:52. What on earth was he to do with eight whole minutes?

 

His fingers twitched and he looked longingly at the old piano crammed into the corner of the tiny living room, wondering if it would be worth it to take his mind off of things until Edgeworth got there. Memories of his college roommates’ faces when he’d insisted they help him somehow maneuver the instrument into the apartment flooded forth and brought a grin to his face; looking back, it had been asinine to even consider hauling the massive piece of furniture up the steps and inside, but they’d managed somehow. It had been an old thrift store find years ago, dusty and forgotten amongst the ocean of furniture people had donated. There were scuffs mottled amongst the failing finish and he was almost certain that there were some serious internal issues based on the way a few of the keys sounded, but he loved it as deeply as if it were an old friend.

 

He approached it and sat gently on the rickety bench, wincing at the squeak, vowing to finally fix the damned thing one of these days. His hands found their way over the stained ivory as they had thousands of times before and he pressed them gently, eliciting a soft chord, feeling instantly better. The chord developed into a simple progression and his muscle memory took over, producing one of his old favorites that he used to resort to when studying had become too tedious. The music soothed him immensely and he continued to grin as his voice caught up, smooth and easy over the way the piano played. He crooned the words to no one in particular, enjoying the way he felt when he sang along to the melody.

 

Happy memories bubbled forth through the song and he played on, encouraged by the recollection of playing in the common area of his school’s student center. He knew that he had a great deal of artistic ability, having indulged his illustrative talents for most of his life, but people had generally been surprised to find that he was quite talented musically, as well. He had enjoyed playing for the small crowds that had gathered to hear him, occasionally singing to the girls in a transparent attempt to garner their affections. It was a reliable and efficient way to dissolve the constant stress that plagued him especially now, and as he finished the first song, the second came easily to him. He sang brightly and happily, content.

 

“I had no idea you had talents outside of outrageous conjecture, Wright.”

 

Phoenix damned near jumped out of his skin, cussing under his breath when his knee hit the worn wood of the upright piano. An incredulous glance toward the door provided him with the image of Miles Edgeworth leaning casually against the doorframe, staring him down in amusement. Tears prickled at the corners of his eyes as his knee throbbed mightily and he cringed, wondering how long the other man had been eavesdropping on his serenade. His mouth moved awkwardly, but he didn’t quite trust himself to produce words that weren’t profane just yet.

 

“You left the door unlocked.” As if to punctuate his explanation, the prosecutor reached up and lazily manipulated the door handle a few times, demonstrating its lack of security. Phoenix glared at it poisonously, feeling flustered from having been caught off guard. Edgeworth stood motionless for a moment more before clicking his tongue in displeasure. “May I come in, or do you need a moment to ensure that you aren’t crippled as well as mute?”

 

The defense attorney clutched uselessly at his bruised joint and waved his friend in with the other hand. “Sure, come on in. Sorry about that, I guess I lost track of time.”

 

Edgeworth shut the door behind him and flipped the deadbolt. “I’m early.” An uncertain silence settled over the two of them, neither confident on how to proceed. As Phoenix moved to rise from his seat, however, Miles held up a hand. “Keep going. That is, if you don’t mind.”

 

The brunette raised an eyebrow. “You want me to keep playing? Aren’t we…you know, going somewhere?”

 

The prosecutor shrugged and averted his eyes. “You’re…surprisingly good. I was enjoying it.”

 

“I…well, sure, if you want. Have a seat,” the defense attorney gestured toward the worn sectional that dominated most of the living area, “do you know how to play?”

 

There was a snort. As Edgeworth slipped off his shoes and made his way over to the couch, Phoenix admired him over his shoulder. The prosecutor had dressed down for the event, though still appeared more formal than your average citizen. Clad in simple black slacks and a burgundy collared shirt, the man easily managed to look out of place amongst Phoenix’s assortment of hand-me-downs. The color was stark against the man’s alabaster skin and brought out the fawn-colored lowlights that glittered through the prosecutor’s hair. Phoenix chuckled to himself for a moment, wondering if Edgeworth just naturally came into being so fashionable, or if he, too, had tried on seven different outfits to troubleshoot before settling for that one.

 

As the prosecutor perched awkwardly upon the shabby upholstery, he shook his head. “I was never particularly gifted in the arts. We were permitted to listen to music occasionally over dinner, but von Karma was strict about practicing anything other than law in his household. He felt it was a waste of time.”

 

To his surprise, the defense attorney barked out a laugh. “Miles Edgeworth not good at something?” He spread his fingers out over the keys and hit a powerful minor chord, dramatically emphasizing the man’s quiet admission. “Tragic.” He received a thunderous look for his taunt and giggled, unable to resist following up with a few more sorrowful notes. “It’s definitely something that takes practice. What would you like to hear?”

 

The prosecutor sat, silent, staring blankly at the piano. “I…don’t know.”

 

Phoenix rubbed at his chin for a moment and considered his options. The butterflies returned in full force and he tried in vain to quash them, feeling an immense amount of pressure to impress his rival. Fortunately, this was something he knew he was good at, and so he ran through his mental repertoire, wondering if he knew anything that the other man would even recognize. Knowing Edgeworth, he was vastly more likely to recognize something classical, but where was the fun in that? It wasn’t often that he managed to get the upper hand over his rival and he might as well take advantage of it… When he reached out to replace his hands on the keys, he said a silent prayer that his music would come off a lot more eloquently than he did.

 

Taking a deep breath, he began to play anew, gently this time. It was a lilting, sad tune he had written the winter of his senior year of undergraduate, shortly before he had learned that he’d just squeaked his way into law school. He had been homesick at the time and was feeling uneasy over his career change, ever pursuant of the prosecutor that was now sitting silently behind him. The memories turned somewhat uncomfortable, as it was impossible for him to remember that time period without also recalling how he had stood as a defendant, himself, charged with the murder of Dahlia’s ex-boyfriend. And Mia… The pain of her loss was only just now starting to dull, years after that terrible accident…

 

As the song built and he crooned through the lyrics, he wondered if Edgeworth was enjoying it. He hadn’t thought about the song in quite some time and now that he was listening to himself sing it, he couldn’t help but cringe slightly. Was he always this emotional? It was no wonder he was seen as such a pushover when he was with—

 

He cut the thought off immediately, nearly skipping over a few notes. She would never be back and there was no reason to conjure her memory forth. He had never been down on himself for wearing his heart on his sleeve, but memories of that girl haunted him even now and he shuddered, trying desperately not to allow the flash of red hair and beautiful, wide eyes to creep into his thoughts.

 

Deciding to change his strategy for fear of luring himself into a depression, he finished the song without a repeat of the final chorus and opted instead for an old etude that, in all honesty, had actually reminded him distinctly of the prosecutor behind him when he had first learned it. The notes were tricky and complicated to piece together and the effort of getting them correct forced him to concentrate, successfully diverting his train of thought. Although it had no lyrics, he hoped Edgeworth would like it.

 

Behind him, the prosecutor relaxed slightly into the couch cushions, interest piqued by the unexpected concert. He had been anxious, sure, but it had been easy enough to shake the feeling until he’d knocked on the attorney’s door. Traffic had been terrible and had allowed him to focus his nervous energy on arriving on time without causing an accident. He had considered making reservations somewhere, but didn’t want to intimidate the other man, assuming that he was quite unused to fine dining. When he had arrived and heard the music through the door, he had been expecting to discover that Phoenix was still getting ready and had it on as background noise, prompting him to crack the door so he could call out to him.

 

But this…?

 

He could just see over the other man’s forearms where his hands danced along the war-torn ivory keys and his voice carried over the tune amiably, entrancing Edgeworth with its baritone. Phoenix’s back and shoulders flexed slightly with the effort of bringing the music forth from the piano and the prosecutor’s eyes darted across his body, desperate to take in every detail he could while the attorney was distracted. When the first song ended and Phoenix started into another, it was only then that he realized he was so focused on absorbing the experience that he never heard a single word that the man sang.

 

Forcing himself to break his tunnel vision and instead attempt to simply enjoy the moment, he propped an ankle upon his knee and glanced around, curious. Before that fateful party, he had never seen Phoenix’s office, much less his apartment, and he was interested to see what sort of insight he could gain while his date for the evening was thoroughly distracted. It was apparent that there was at least a relatively frequent attempt to keep the place clean, but everything about the living quarters was simply…worn out. The carpet was 10 years past changing, the furniture didn’t match, the coffee table had rings stained into it… He shook his head. It was no wonder the man showed up to court in a poorly fitted suit; it was a miracle he could afford a suit at all.

 

His eyes scanned upward to the walls where pictures of various sizes peppered the shabby wallpaper. They primarily showcased the attorney with his former clients after clinching the acquittal, all smiles and cheers and fists in the air. He suppressed a smile. There were photos of Maya and Pearl, of Kurain, and even one of Gumshoe being whipped by Franziska von Karma. He lamented briefly that he would likely never experience that kind of camaraderie with his own team, but dismissed the thought as quickly as it presented itself. He had never been particularly good at that sort of thing even when it was warranted, he mused, and he was genuinely happy to leave it to someone like Phoenix Wright, instead.

 

His eyes traveled further along to the adjacent wall where four prominent pieces of art were displayed on their own in beautiful frames above the television. He cocked his head at them, wondering how such out-of-place pieces made their way into an otherwise unimpressive living space. Each was distinctly different from the next: The first was a portrait of a beautiful woman sat gazing out of a window at a garden, done in what appeared to be oil paint. The one next to it was a massive charcoal sketch of a male lion mid-roar, its mane matted with streaks of inky blood. Further along the wall was an abstract piece ablaze with color and hard-angled shapes, and beside that, an acrylic painting of—he squinted at it—a shipwreck? Each was beautifully done in its own right, but try as he might, he failed to see how each related to each other. How odd.

 

An awkward silence met his ears and he turned back to see his childhood friend looking sheepishly back at him.

 

“Sorry, I guess I can sort of get carried away. Am I boring you?”

 

Feeling slightly ashamed for getting caught daydreaming, Edgeworth shook his head and tried to smile, figuring it would diffuse the situation a bit more easily. “No, Wright, I dare say I even found it quite enjoyable. You’re obviously well-practiced.”

 

Phoenix let forth a burst of bashful laughter and blushed deeply, rubbing the back of his head. “Ah, well, it’s an old hobby. I’m glad you liked it.” The attorney noticed that Edgeworth’s gaze had shifted back to the pieces above the television and he followed the stare. “Ah, you noticed those, did you?”

 

The prosecutor made a small noise at the back of his throat, almost as if he were considering whether to critique the art or to simply compliment it and move on. “These pieces,” he murmured before getting up and approaching them, “they’re exquisitely done, but they make no sense in this setting.”

 

Phoenix flinched slightly in anticipation as he watched his old friend walk across the room so that he could get a closer look at the artwork. He knew it had been too good to be true to have Edgeworth walk into his apartment and just be satisfied with being swept off his feet with a few songs. “They make no sense? What do you mean?”

 

“There’s no rhyme or reason to why these four pictures would be next to each other. They’re completely different eras, different styles… How could I not notice them, Wright? They stick out like a sore thumb. It’s like somebody bought the leftovers from the museum auction and threw them up on a wall.” Phoenix watched as Edgeworth peered closely at each piece, eyeing them with the same calculation as he did when he was evaluating evidence. Bashfulness bubbled fiercely within the defense lawyer as he watched the prosecutor move silently between them.

 

“Those are, um,” the attorney twirled on the bench so that he could sit facing his friend, instead, resigned to watching the cultured man critique the artwork, “those are the pieces that didn’t sell from my Art final. Y’know, back in college. I had enough credits to finish out the major while I doubled in law, so I figured why not… At the end of the semester, once everything had been graded, we had a gallery where people could see what we worked on and buy stuff if they wanted to. Those were the only ones of mine people didn’t buy. I guess I see your point, though. They don’t really make sense next to each other if you don’t know the story…” He trailed off lamely, realizing he was rambling to cover up his sheepishness.

 

There was a pregnant pause before Edgeworth turned, incredulous. “You did these!?”

 

It was easier, Phoenix decided, to feign offense than to accept praise. “Why do you always say it with a tone of surprise when I do something good?”

 

The prosecutor turned back to the framed artwork, folding his arms. “I…had no idea.”

 

Phoenix stood and smoothed at his hair, unable to stop himself from fussing even now that the man he had been waiting on was standing in his apartment. Edgeworth had yet to reveal his plans for the evening and it was gnawing at him. He knew where he might take someone on a date, but the prosecutor was comically out of his league, and thus, he couldn’t really imagine taking the other man to an arcade or a gyro joint. Even though he vowed to be grateful for wherever the night took them, he silently prayed that it wasn’t somewhere with cloth napkins and menus in another language. “Do you, ah, have a plan? You know, for this evening, I mean. Obviously.” Real smooth, Phoenix.

 

A deep chuckle emanated from the prosecutor as he turned at long last, unfolding his arms and casually hooking his thumbs onto his pockets. “Not particularly,” he murmured, his tone kept deceptively confident to conceal the raging emotions inside, “though I would imagine dinner is in order. Do you have a preference?”

 

Phoenix smirked playfully, unable to resist the temptation to try and get a rise out of the other man. “Oh, you know, I have a coupon for two large pizzas and a twelve pack that expires tomorrow… I figured we could use that and watch a B movie before we both fall asleep on the couch?”

 

Edgeworth stared, confused.

 

“It was a j—“

 

“Is that…what you normally do in this situation?” The prosecutor could tell that the defense attorney was then feeling him out, seemingly under the impression that this was some sort of trick or joke. He shrugged uncomfortably, both at the implication that he would tease the other man about his preferences, and at the casualness of the suggestion in the first place. “I was expecting somewhere more formal, but if you’d like to order in, I don’t mind. It’s just…not something I’m familiar with.”

 

It was Phoenix’s turn to stare back at the prosecutor. “W-what? You’ve never had a pizza delivered? Or some Chinese food?”

 

“von Karma never would have permitted such…plebian food in the household. We had a chef in the house who cooked our meals. I don’t have the time or the inclination to cook for myself, either, so I have my own meals prepared.” Unable to stop himself, he clutched self-consciously at his elbow and looked away, choosing instead to stare back at the artwork on the wall. He had suspected that by inviting Phoenix Wright into his life, he would begin to see a greater deal of exposure to what most would call normal things, but it didn’t make the pill any easier to swallow when he had to admit that they had always been wealthy enough to avoid cooking their own food.

 

“You mean you never learned how to cook, so you pay someone to do it for you.” Phoenix giggled, unphased. “Well, I mean, why not, then?”

 

“Why not what?”

 

“Why don’t we order a pizza and watch a movie? You know, like us plebian people do. Maya took Pearl back home for the weekend, so we have the place to ourselves. I usually try to eat a lot healthier than that, but this is a special occasion, right?” The attorney shrugged. “Next time you can show me one of your favorite restaurants. Fair trade. I’ll even wear a tie if I have to.”

 

The prosecutor considered the offer. On the one hand, the concept of cheap delivery food and a movie played on an old flatscreen was so terribly average that he was still reeling over the suggestion in the first place. It never in a hundred years would have occurred to him that such a lack of formality would be appropriate for a first date, especially with someone to whom he owed so much. On the other hand, he had promised Phoenix that he would be patient. He had also repeatedly lectured himself on his own impulsiveness, vowing to make an earnest attempt to stay within the other man’s comfort zone for as long as possible, and this was a golden opportunity to do so. Still, he mused as he took in his surroundings, compromises could be made… “Alright, Wright, I suppose I’ll concede to this culinary exposure, but on one condition.”

 

“Oh—what? Really? What’s that?”

 

“We eat on actual plates.”

 

 

Chapter 8: Chapter 8

Edgeworth eyed the pizza in its box, wary.

 

“C’mon, big guy, you’ve taken down murderers before. You can do this.”

 

Little pools of grease ran menacingly atop the melted cheese like varicose veins, glistening in the yellow overhead light. His fingertips twitched, unsure of where to begin as he searched for the piece that was at least most of the way cut through. Twice he lifted his hands to approach it, and twice he lowered clenched fists at his sides. How embarrassing.

 

“Here, I’ll show you.”

 

Stubborn pride burned white hot in his chest at the teasing tone. It was only a pizza, for God’s sakes, but he never expected it to be so…sloppy. Images of the grease staining his shirt or the toppings sliding off or sauce flying everywhere peppered his thoughts while Phoenix reached across the counter and selected a pizza cutter from the various utensils shoved into an old plastic pitcher under the microwave. His hands made quick work of the pie, going over the haphazard cuts in the dough until the individual pieces could be neatly slid from their confines. Edgeworth was surprised to see how long the pieces were as two of them were placed onto a plate and handed to him.

 

“Go have a seat on the couch; I’ll be right over. I’m just going to grab myself a few slices and some napkins.” The prosecutor watched idly as the attorney piled a few pieces onto his own plate and ripped several paper towels from the dispenser. His feet seemed to be rooted to the kitchen floor while Phoenix turned, paused, and then reached behind him to select a tall glass from the cupboard. As blue eyes lit upon gray and Phoenix noticed that Edgeworth hadn’t moved yet, he chuckled to himself and placed a hand at the prosecutor’s lower back, urging him back toward the couch. Between the pizza, the sudden contact, and the foreignness of the entire situation, he found himself still noticing that his childhood friend did not grab any silverware.

 

Phoenix made a show of flopping back into the squishy cushions and throwing his crossed feet up on the table, haphazardly sliding his plate of pizza next to his feet. Edgeworth, on the other hand, eyed the man’s graceless gesture with envious distaste as he delicately placed his own meal down next to the attorney’s. Just as he was about to ask how, exactly, he was to begin eating this…mess, Phoenix turned to him, suddenly serious.

 

“Now, there’s a whole proper way of doing this, you know. Normally people learn this stuff in college, but I’m willing to bet that you probably didn’t go to a place like Ivy U.”

 

“I went to Y—“

 

“Doesn’t matter.” Phoenix held up a finger. “Wherever that was, they let you down. You obviously missed out on some serious formative experiences. So, step one,” he grinned boyishly, “is to let that pizza sit there for a minute, or you’ll fry the roof of your mouth off. Nothing will taste good for days. It’s a nightmare.”

 

Edgeworth tongued the roof of his own mouth instinctively, wincing.

 

“Step two is to use that minute to scroll through the television channels complaining that you pay for hundreds of channels, but there’s never anything to watch.” The attorney swiped the remote off of the table and leaned back, close enough that the prosecutor could feel the body heat emanating from his side. Edgeworth watched out of his peripheral vision as the blue-eyed man scrolled aimlessly through the channels, uncaring as to what was selected. Suddenly, Phoenix turned to him, his face a mere inches from his own. “You…you do own a television, right?”

 

He snorted. “Yes, Wright, I own a television.” He didn’t exactly watch it all that often, but he did own one…

 

The whirlwind of activity had served as a decent distraction from his true purpose there that evening, but it was becoming increasingly difficult not to take advantage of the other man’s proximity. He could agree that it was odd to be around his friend without some sort of mission or case to be concerned about, and certainly not in such an informal setting. He had been pleased to note, however, that Phoenix was the same warm, genuine person outside of the courtroom as he was when he was slamming his hands on the table across from the prosecutor, whipping up another ridiculous rabbit hole for them to explore. He wondered if it would be appreciated, or even appropriate, to put an arm around the other man. Once again, he found himself seriously regretting his lack of dating experience.

 

Patience, Miles. You had an entire year to yourself to figure this out… He’s had less than 72 hours…Nothing needs to happen tonight. Not unless he says so.

 

Phoenix soon settled on an old classic that was only a few minutes in to the program. “Perfect,” he murmured, then turned to the prosecutor with a grin. “You pick something terrible but still enjoyable, something easy to make fun of. This one is a classic for drinking games, but we’ll get to that at a later time. Speaking of which,” he finally set the glass on the table and reached for a beer, “I know it must be a stretch for you to use paper towels as napkins and eat without silverware, so I figured you’d at least appreciate not having to drink from a bottle. Gotta take it easy on you, you know.”

 

Edgeworth smirked, despite the jab. “I’m hardly so delicate, Wright. It will take a great deal more work polishing you into something that doesn’t make it seem like I’ve been paired with the Make A Wish Foundation to bring a young man’s dream of eating coq au vin to life.”

 

Phoenix gasped loudly in mock-offense as he handed Edgeworth his drink and then opened one for himself. “Challenge accepted, Edgeworth. May the best man win.” He held his bottle of beer up for a toast and fixed the prosecutor with a devilish grin. “Need I remind you, though, I do my best work under pressure.”

 

Edgeworth returned the gesture, the gentle clink of glass on glass nearly swallowed by the sounds emanating from the television. “How could I forget? Phoenix Wright: Master of the Cold Sweat…”

 

The defense attorney choked on the sip he was taking and glared mildly, though there was no feeling behind it. “Alright, big shot, grab your plate.” Phoenix pulled his own meal into his lap and grabbed his first piece, folding it in half lengthwise. “You gotta fold it like this, or all your cheese will fall off.”

 

As Edgeworth grabbed his pizza and folded it in kind, he was impressed by its sudden physical integrity. Figuring it was now or never, he lifted the piece to his mouth and took a bite. His eyebrows rose for a moment while he chewed, swallowed, took a second bite, chewed, and then placed his pizza back down on the plate. “It’s…quite good,” he remarked, “I’m surprised.”

 

Phoenix beamed at him. “See? There’s a hundred different possibilities for toppings, too, at least from this place. I’m glad you like it. There’s plenty more.”

 

The two sat and ate in comfortable silence for a small while, both watching in abject disinterest as the movie scurried along through its plot. It was an older slasher film that was rife with stereotypes and clichés, but still exciting enough to hold interest. The coffee table was soon littered with greasy paper towels, empty beer bottles, and pizza crusts that Edgeworth requested to take home for his dog. As soon as Phoenix got over the fact that Edgeworth even had a dog, he turned to him in preparation of interrogating the man about his pet, but was stopped cold.

 

“What?”

 

“You have a, uh,” Phoenix faltered for a moment, and Edgeworth was curious to find a deep blush spreading across the bridge of the other man’s nose, “just here, it’s…” The attorney reached out and gently smoothed his thumb just below the prosecutor’s bottom lip. The touch left fire in its wake, and Edgeworth wasn’t quite sure if it was the alcohol, the proximity, or simply the comfortable atmosphere, but he was tired of being patient and playing it safe. Unable to stop himself, he turned his head just slightly and caught Phoenix’s thumb in a chaste kiss, catching the taste of a small amount of pizza sauce that had just been wiped up.

 

“Is this what typically follows dinner and a movie, Wright?” He lifted a hand to hold the attorney’s close to his mouth, disallowing him to pull away.

 

“Sure, if you played your cards right.” It was the old familiar feeling that Phoenix had found himself strangely accustomed to as of late: Edgeworth on the chase, with Phoenix scrambling to keep up. This time, however, Phoenix marveled briefly at the insinuation that he was the one being chased, not the verdict. His hand shook lightly in the prosecutor’s grasp as he fumbled for words, trying desperately to maintain his cool façade. Distantly, he was tempted to roll his eyes at himself. Some things never change.

 

They held each other’s gaze for a moment longer before the spell broke and Phoenix turned, clearing his throat, to fuss over clearing the table. As he carried the various items back to the kitchen, Edgeworth sat back with a sigh, wondering what just went wrong and how to proceed. Was he doing this incorrectly? Should he have taken the other man out to a nice place, after all? He thought that they’d both been enjoying themselves up to that point, but now it was strange and he couldn’t quite place why. A glance toward the kitchen revealed that Phoenix was deliberately taking his time cleaning things up, and it spurred Edgeworth to take a chance.

 

Rising from the couch, he padded quietly toward the man, wanting his approach to be as much of a surprise as possible. The only way he was going to crack this shell is if he maintained the upper hand and kept Phoenix guessing. He already had an “in”, he supposed, now he simply had to unravel the yarn that had led him here. Grabbing the attorney by the waist, he turned his date and pinned him up against the kitchen counter. Instinctively, Phoenix reached up and braced himself against the prosecutor’s forearms and found himself motionless under the predatory gaze of Miles Edgeworth.

 

“Phoenix,” he kept his tone low, but gentle, and knew that the rare use of his rival’s first name would push him further into turmoil, “what’s really on your mind?”

 

“I—“ blue eyes darted back and forth, searching for the words to string together, “this is all just so…weird,” he began, and Edgeworth moved to let go in that moment, disappointed. Phoenix held tight on the man’s arms, holding him in place, and continued at a frantic pace, insistent on explaining himself. “I mean, a few days ago, you were dead. I mourned for you for months, and yet now you’re here in my kitchen and there’s this…thing between us, and I don’t… I don’t really know what to do. People don’t just get second chances like this, and I want to take it, but…” His gaze lowered to the floor, but his grip did not let up. “I guess I’m just…scared.”

 

“Scared? Of me?”

 

Phoenix barked out a humorless laugh. “In almost every other conceivable situation, yes, of you, but not this time.” He shook his head and only then did he soften the vice-like grip on the prosecutor’s arms, opting instead to simply rest his hands on the burgundy cloth. It had a light, satin-like feel to it and shimmered slightly where the folds shifted back and forth. The attorney chose to focus on that while he continued, nervous. “I feel like every time things start going right they fall apart again, and I’m not just talking about the courtroom. I want this, but I’m scared of it, too. If I screw this up, I don’t get you back a third time, you know? I still feel like I’m waiting to wake up from this alone to find you still gone and have to go through it all over again.”

 

“Wright—“

 

“I know you said you would warn me next time you need to leave, and I really appreciate that,” Phoenix was on a roll now, words tumbling out of his mouth like a stream, “but I can’t even convince myself that you’ll still feel this way tomorrow morning, much less through your next trip to Borginia.”

 

“Germany—“

 

“And what’s this going to look like at work, anyway? I mean, you’re famous, and we usually square up against each other in high profile cases so by proxy, people even sort of know who I am now, so how is it going to look when word starts getting out that the prosecution and the defense are actually a thing? Is that even legal?”

 

“Yes—“

 

“I guess what I’m trying to say, is—“

 

Edgeworth leaned forward and kissed the other man, effectively silencing him. He didn’t have the words to explain to the attorney how he felt or what his intentions were; not yet, anyway. But he could try to show him. It had worked the last time, and he had been in much more seemingly unsalvageable situations. As he drew across the other man’s bottom lip with the tip of his tongue, he could feel the barest amount of tension begin to ease out of the brunette’s body. When their lips parted, he took a breath to finally have his say, but Phoenix interrupted him yet again.

 

“Stay with me.”

 

Edgeworth looked up, confused. “I intend to.”

 

“Tonight, I mean. I want you to stay with me.” Phoenix turned a darker shade of pink and turned his gaze to the floor. “I know it’s kind of sudden, but…”

 

The prosecutor leveled his gaze and fought to keep his face neutral, despite the fact that his heart had kicked into overdrive at the suggestion. Still, he wanted to tread lightly. He wanted to be absolutely sure that he wasn’t misinterpreting any signals put out by his partner. The prosecutor shifted his hands slightly, hooking his thumbs through the belt loops on his rival’s jeans. As he pulled the man against his body, he tilted his head and caught the man’s earlobe between his teeth, dizzy with the sudden rush of finally, after all those months of turmoil, having the attorney all to himself. “Are you certain?” He kept his tone as gentle as he could, hoping that Phoenix wouldn’t feel pressured into accepting him no matter how badly he wanted it.

 

The brunette’s breath hitched in his throat at the contact and he slid his hands up the prosecutor’s arms to clutch gently at his biceps. The proximity of the other man’s body was as intimidating as it was comforting, but Edgeworth’s actions were certainly assuaging the fears that had unexpectedly surfaced after he’d subjected the other man to greasy pizza and awkward conversation. Miles still wanted him even after he’d gone home and thought about it and worked and come back and saw the real version of Phoenix’s world, of what he was truly inviting into his lavish, cultured life… He squeezed gently at the muscles under his palms and ducked his head, smoothing his forehead against the bared neck in front of him. “I don’t know what you really want out of all of this, out of me,” he murmured, comforted by the scent of the same expensive cologne that Edgeworth had worn the first time they’d encountered each other this way, “but I want to try, anyway.” He paused as he felt a gentle, seeking kiss press against his throat, encouraging him.

 

Edgeworth’s senses were alight with the smell of Phoenix and he was briefly overwhelmed with memories of their first awkward kiss on the beachside bench, memory as vivid as if it had just happened moments ago. “I don’t have the way with words that you do,” he whispered, “but I’ll stay with you. I’ll show you that I mean this, that I’m a different man, now. Whatever it takes.”

 

Phoenix let out a shuddering breath and their lips clashed once more, rough and anxious and seeking. It was as if all of the tension of the last year and particularly the last week was suddenly shattered like glass and they clutched at each other, desperate to get closer, to communicate the rest of what neither were able to say out loud. As Edgeworth broke from their kiss and instead pressed his mouth against the attorney’s throat, Phoenix reached up with clumsy hands, frantic to undo the shirt that held the prosecutor captive. His thoughts flitted briefly to his fantasy from the previous night and he was eager to discover how accurate it was. His fingers shaking, he managed to pop each button from its confines, occasionally distracted as the other man’s searing mouth spread delicious heat under his jawline.

 

Finally he reached the last button and threw the shirt open, breathless as he took in the sight of Edgeworth’s bare chest and abdomen. It was just as he had envisioned it the previous night, pale and hairless, toned, warm, forbidden. His hands pressed themselves flat against the prosecutor’s pectorals, drinking in the rapid heartbeat that fluttered beneath the lightly muscled chest. Never picked him as one to do pushups in his office… Damn, Edgeworth. He pushed further at the fabric to reveal broad shoulders and ultimately slid the shirt down along the man’s arms, catching it before it fell to the floor. Desperate to continue but not wanting to disrespect the prosecutor’s undoubtedly expensive garments, he tore his eyes away from his rival for a split second to hang the shirt haphazardly on a cabinet knob.

 

Edgeworth was a sight to behold. If he were honest with himself, the image of the man standing shirtless and flushed before him filled him with as much irritation as it did desire—it figured, he mused, that a man who strived for perfection in all aspects would have won the genetic lottery, to boot. He had been half hoping to get the shirt off to reveal something like a disfiguring scar, a birth mark, a tattoo… anything to crack the polished appearance of the prodigy before him. Deciding to file that under “a tomorrow problem,” Phoenix went back to work, digging his fingers into the musculature along the other man’s back.

 

Edgeworth, on the other hand, was acting as a man possessed. Having pinned the attorney against the counter, the man had no choice but to largely surrender to his ministrations and he took his sweet time, memorizing every inch of the tanned flesh before him as he moved along. He savored every gasp, every throaty attempt to cry out as he worked his way up one side of his rival’s neck, along his jaw, and down the other. This wasn’t quite like his other partners, he reflected, as he absentmindedly stroked his thumbs ever closer to the attorney’s groin while he worked. They had been all about getting rid of distractions as quickly and efficiently as possible... This time, he would focus on being thorough, on discovering what drove the other man wild, on having fun with it and making up for lost time. The thought caused him to pause for a split second.

 

He was having fun, for the first time in a very long time.

 

He could feel his shirt being undone and subsequently removed and he fought a blush, never having grown accustomed to being so vulnerable in front of another. His body shivered lightly as he could feel Phoenix’s gaze raking over his bare chest and he wondered briefly if the man was pleased with what he saw. He’d always seen himself as remaining on the scrawnier side of things, had never developed into a particularly masculine man… he scoffed. More of von Karma’s lecturing, coming back to haunt him now, of all times. Judging by the way the attorney kneaded into his lower back, it certainly didn’t seem to bother him any…

 

 He pulled back on Phoenix’s hips, then, and noted with no small amount of pleasure that the other man was equally as taken with desire as he was, judging by the clash of hardened heat between them. He clawed at the collared shirt holding his partner hostage, undoing only enough buttons so that he was able to pull both shirts up and over the brunette’s head. Their tongues met at the same time as their chests and he swayed, intoxicated with the feeling of being so swept up in another. The bit of roughness at his chest and belly told him that Phoenix was dappled with just a bit of hair and he clutched at him, desperate to map out every inch of the man’s body before he was through.

 

They stumbled their way across the kitchen, never stopping to look behind them or to turn out the lights, eventually coming to a halt in the hallway as Edgeworth again pinned Phoenix against the wall, determined to taste the man’s collarbones and unwilling to wait. In turn, the attorney sunk his fingers into the prosecutor’s hair, delighting in how soft it was and how easily he could grasp at it to pull him back up into another endless kiss. They tumbled along the hallway, each fighting for dominance over the other. Where Edgeworth lacked Phoenix’s size, Phoenix lacked Edgeworth’s grace, but somehow they seemed to balance out until one of their backs slammed into the bedroom door, blasting it open in a flurry of passion.

 

It was Phoenix who hit the bed first, thrown down by his rival and bouncing lightly upon contact. He allowed his arms to splay out at his sides as he gazed up into a pair of stormy gray eyes. Both men took the opportunity to catch their breath for a moment and Edgeworth stared down upon his bounty, awe-struck. Of the thousands of scenarios that had run through his mind over the years, never did he imagine that the fates would allow for any of them to come true, and yet here they were against all odds. It was real. He reached down and gently ran his fingertips along his rival’s heaving chest, marveling at the perfectly imperfect beauty marks that punctuated the glistening flesh. “You have no idea how long I’ve thought about this.”

 

Phoenix’s expression softened and he cocked his head, curious. “Really? About me?”

 

Edgeworth allowed his touch to continue further at a devastatingly slow pace, silently triumphant when the body beneath him arched into it, desperate for more. He paused to trace a circle around the man’s navel, disturbing the dark strands that mottled the skin there, beckoning him further down... “I tried to tell myself that I was being foolish, that it would never happen… That we were too different, you and I.”

 

A fresh sheen of sweat broke out across Phoenix’s chest as Edgeworth worked his way lower, beginning to toy with the button on his jeans. He wasn’t afraid, necessarily, but he was definitely out of his territory… Still, he could feel himself straining within the confines of his remaining clothing and he couldn’t help but thrust toward the other man’s touch, craving release. “Guess that would make two of us… And yet, here we are.”

 

A velvety chuckle peppered the air as Edgeworth deftly popped the button open and let his hand hover above it, knowing that he was being a tease. “I hadn’t quite expected things to turn out this way, exactly,” instead of opting for the zipper, he reached up and slid his fingers into the hem, grabbing a fistful of both boxers and jeans. He made it a point to hold the other man’s hips steady as he leaned down over top of him, fixing him in place with a stare that had made lesser men cry in the courtroom. As expected, Phoenix returned it in all its intensity, and the unspoken challenge lit a fire in his loins. “But then again, things never do go quite as planned when you’re involved, do they?”

 

Edgeworth’s fingers were so close, so close, and yet so far away from where Phoenix desperately needed them. Deciding to default to his usual plan of attack—act first, think later—he reached down and grabbed a handful of the prosecutor’s throbbing manhood through his slacks, one-upping the other man’s grip and delighting in the hiss of shock and pleasure that escaped the man’s teeth. Leaning up onto his free arm, he brushed his lips against the hollow behind the man’s jawline and whispered, “Perfect is boring, Mr. Edgeworth. It’s about time we shake things up a bit, wouldn’t you agree?” He punctuated his comment by squeezing ever so lightly, hoping—knowing—that it would drive the man wild. It thrilled him to be able to witness such a loss of control from the stoic prosecutor, but he wasn’t about to surrender to the other man without a fight.

 

Edgeworth growled low in his throat at the contact, surprised by his partner’s candor. Pretty confident for a man who’s never done this before... Time to knock him back down a peg or two. “Be careful what you wish for, Mr. Wright,” he returned the other man’s taunt as quietly and dangerously as the challenge had been issued, “you just might get it.”

 

With that, the zzzzip of Phoenix’s jeans being undone could be heard over the silence. The gauntlet had been thrown.

Chapter 9: Chapter 9

Phoenix let loose a gasp as his jeans slid easily enough down his legs and into a puddle on the floor. It had been a long time since he had been with anybody, and certainly never anybody this…aggressive. The quiet, polished, mild-mannered prosecutor had a bit of a wild side to him, it seemed, and the brunette was impressed, if not a little intimidated. He didn’t think Edgeworth had it in him. Still, it was sort of a nice change of pace as he was disrobed; he was used to doing nearly all of the work…

 

The attorney’s heart was pounding in his chest as he planted a heel into the mattress and shoved his body back, seeking the comfort of propping his head onto the pillow. This is really real, now, isn’t it? He watched with avid interest as Edgeworth’s shoulder muscles flexed with the effort of holding his bodyweight up while the man followed in turn, illuminated by the moonlight filtering through the open bedroom window. If you do this, there’s no backing out, Phoenix… Are you sure you really want this so soon? Reaching up, he cupped the other man’s jaw in his palm and held him steady for a moment. “Edg—Miles, wait.”

 

Gray eyes gazed into blue as the prosecutor paused, passion quickly fading in favor of concern. “Is everything alright?”

 

Phoenix held his stare for a few moments, looking past the heather gray irises and the high cheekbones and thin eyebrows. He searched for any inkling, even the smallest hint that the man above him was still in turmoil, was still the vicious shell of a monster who lived for the victory, for the perfect record… He searched in earnest for the reassurance that he had truly transformed from the predator that had stunned him in court, the cold-hearted villain who had so thoroughly replaced the virtuous soul he had known and loved as a child…

 

What he found, however, was the simple, vulnerable stare of a man who had been to the brink of madness and came back victorious, looking down upon him with nothing other than gentle curiosity and, if he looked hard enough, a bit of anxiety as well. Phoenix smiled and ran his thumb along the man’s cheekbone, comforted. “Yeah, it’s fine, just,” he swallowed, throat suddenly dry in anticipation of what he knew was to come, “be gentle, okay?”

 

Edgeworth returned the smile—a real smile, Phoenix noted, stunned. “Have I ever let you down before?”

 

The attorney couldn’t help but chuckle. He hooked a leg over Edgeworth’s thigh and brought their bodies close, eliciting a delicious noise from the man when their groins met. Mimicking the prosecutor’s actions from earlier, he leaned up to whisper in the man’s ear, “Remind me you asked that the next time I’m cross-examining a parrot…”

 

Even in the heat of the moment as they were, Phoenix could nearly hear the other man rolling his eyes. The laughter that followed finally managed to break the strange tension between them, however, and as Edgeworth went back to work laying a trail of kisses down his subject’s chest, Phoenix took to threading his fingers through the man’s hair and watching his ministrations. In the gentle balance of light and shadows that melted across the room, the attorney could now see a spread of freckles across Edgeworth’s back and shoulders. He suppressed a grin and made a mental note to tease him about them later.

 

“You have a scar here,” Edgeworth looked up, his mouth still close enough to Phoenix’s skin to cause goosebumps to flutter across the man’s body.

 

The attorney squirmed, bashful, and brushed his partner’s bangs away from his eyes. “Had my appendix out. They said it wouldn’t leave much of a mark, but—“ Words left him as the prosecutor snared a bit of the flesh surrounding the thickened skin between his teeth, worrying it with his tongue. He began to trail even lower, causing yet another adrenaline spike to twist the attorney’s gut, but Phoenix was determined to ride it out this time. He trusted Edgeworth. Still, when he felt the other man’s delicate fingertips begin to pull at his boxers, he froze, searching for an excuse to prolong it just a bit further.

 

Tugging lightly at the man’s hair to bring him back to eye level, he opted to instead wrap his arms around the svelte waist and steal one more kiss. While he had the other man distracted this time, however, he planted a leg and rolled them together, cherishing the small gasp of surprise he managed to get out of the prosecutor. It was a terrific game to keep him on his toes. Leaning away from his date, Phoenix took a moment to admire his pale, disheveled subject, trying to memorize each minute feature. “You didn’t think I would let you just have all the fun tonight, did you?”

 

“By all means, Wright, take it away.” As if he had somehow expected the sudden turn of events, Edgeworth smirked and threaded his fingers behind his head, lounging with crossed ankles, looking perfectly at ease.

 

Damn it, he’s still calling my bluffs, even now… Not to be outdone, Phoenix returned his rival’s confident visage and took advantage of the open offer, sliding a hand along a softly rippled ribcage. Unable to keep his focus away from the body beneath him for long, he allowed his eyes to follow where his hands trailed, wanting to savor the opportunity. Moonlight glinted across small silvery streaks that marred the pale flesh beneath him at odd intervals and Phoenix narrowed his eyes at them, wondering how he’d missed them earlier. “What are these?”

 

Edgeworth cocked an eyebrow and glanced down. “What are what?” As Phoenix traced over a few of the unusual marks with his hands, the prosecutor fought a blush and averted his gaze. “They’re—they’re bad memories.” His eyes slid shut when he felt a wet tongue flit gently across one of them. “Franziska wasn’t the only one who had a penchant for whipping those she felt were lacking…”

 

There was a noncommittal noise against his body and he turned his gaze back to the attorney to watch as the man explored his body. He knew that the other man had been bluffing when he had flipped them over, was probably stalling for time to soften his own nerves. Unlike their heated courtroom battles, he was happy to oblige him in this instance. He didn’t know a tremendous amount about navigating these sorts of situations, but he was insistent on getting this right the first time. Rushing Phoenix into things, he gathered, would only spook the man and deter him from trying again.

 

Phoenix moved further down and Edgeworth’s heart skipped a beat. As the attorney fiddled with first his belt and then the button on his slacks, he internally smirked, commending the man for his commitment to the follow-through. Just like in court, he mused, no matter how in over his head he gets himself, at least he commits to it… He could see the nervousness in the other man’s eyes as Phoenix drew his zipper down slowly and he moved to lift his hips, but the attorney stopped him by holding them to the mattress. Expecting another protest, he lifted his head from the pillow to reassure the man and instead let out a gasp as Phoenix ran his mouth along the edge of his manhood through his slacks. The touch was muted through the fabric but was just firm enough to tease, and as he worked his way back down, Edgeworth could feel the heat of his breath penetrate the thin fabric. I’ll be damned… so much for not knowing what he’s doing…

 

Spurred by the reaction, Phoenix grinned. He felt truly at a loss of what to do and so he opted simply for mimicking what he knew he liked and rolling with it. He knew that it would only take him so far, as Dollie had never participated in such activities, even when they were together. He could still remember her voice, full of disgust, the handful of times he’d felt risky enough to ask… Mentally shrugging, he finally tugged at the prosecutor’s pants, figuring that it was now or never. As expected, Edgeworth lifted his hips obediently, and Phoenix slid the slacks from the man’s body, taking his socks with them on the way down. For a split second, he considered folding them, and then simply tossed them aside.

 

He noted with no small amount of satisfaction that he had been spot-on when he had pegged the other man as a fan of compression shorts. Staring hungrily down upon the inky black fabric, he could just make out the silhouette of the prosecutor’s erection straining against the spandex, lying perfectly along the groove in his hip. Phoenix reached forward and palmed it roughly, stroking it through the fabric, desperate to hear the other man’s breath leave his body in a shuddering gasp. Even now, he could feel the flesh swell under his ministrations and he worked it further for a few moments, spurred by the way Edgeworth squirmed under his touch. I could get used to seeing him like this…

 

Smirking, he settled down between his rival’s legs and nibbled indelicately where the hem of the man’s boxer briefs sat against his thigh. He knew that his own thighs and hips were terribly sensitive, even ticklish at times, and so he was determined to exploit every trick he could come up with, if nothing else than to continue the dizzying high that was having Miles Edgeworth pinned down, breathless and vulnerable. He traveled further upward until he met the swell of the man’s testicles nestled behind the black fabric. The smell was musky and thick, but not unpleasant, and he took an experimental swipe across the bulge with his tongue, emboldened by the reactions he was receiving.

 

Edgeworth’s thighs twitched against his ears and Phoenix heard the man grunt audibly, so he tried again, this time taking his time and making sure that the man would feel the wet heat of his mouth through his shorts. A shudder rippled through the prosecutor’s body and the attorney could hear him suppress a groan. Despite his attempts to maintain his composure, Phoenix noticed that Edgeworth had sunk his fingers into the comforter, grabbing two fistfuls of the fabric to keep himself grounded. So, even here, you’re going to make me fight for it, hm? He worked his mouth on the man a moment longer, plotting. I’ll get you to lose control it if it’s the last thing I do, Edgeworth…

 

It was time, Phoenix thought to himself, to get it over with. Sitting back on his haunches, declining to correct it when his manhood broke free through the fly in his boxers, he soaked in the sight of Edgeworth splayed before him. The man’s pale flesh was now glowing with a pink flush and his hair splayed over the worn pillow, stringy with sweat. He was…beautiful. The attorney felt his lips curl into a smile as he reached for the hem of the prosecutor’s shorts and he paused, feeling cheeky. “You ready for this?”

 

To his surprise, Edgeworth laughed. “Are you?”

 

“Hey, I’ve tackled worse before,” he began to slide the shorts down narrow hips, heart in his throat, praying that his bravado held out longer than he expected it to, “just bear with me while I figure this out…” It was easier to keep the teasing conversation going while he fully disrobed his partner, to ease the tension and hide how nervous he really was. Edgeworth was striking and Phoenix wanted him, but he still couldn’t seem to shake the last bit of anxiety over the unknown.

 

Edgeworth wasn’t having it, however. Leaning his head back onto his arms, he allowed his eyes to slide shut. “It’s hardly that complicated, Wright, you simply—“ his words caught in his throat as he felt the attorney’s mouth come down on the head of his weeping manhood, hesitant and seeking. The tip of the other man’s tongue dabbed at him then, experimenting, tasting, and he gasped at long last, words leaving him entirely. It wasn’t necessarily the most practiced technique, sure, as Phoenix awkwardly maneuvered along trying different ways of pleasuring him, but between the year-long buildup and the other man’s innocent willingness to try, the experience was downright filthy. He couldn’t stop his hands from sliding into the jet black spikes at his groin and holding his head there, needing more of him.

 

Phoenix’s heart soared as he felt the trembling fingers tug at his hair, encouraged by the man’s momentary loss of control. Edgeworth’s silence had solved one mystery for him—he wasn’t vocal in bed, after all—but the way that his body reacted was plenty to let the attorney know that he was at least making some good progress. Sliding his mouth down over the swollen head, he tried his best to relax his tongue and throat and take as much of the man in as he could, choking slightly and pulling back when he went just a bit too far. That really looks a lot easier than it is… Geeze… Embarrassed, he reached up to wipe his chin, and was surprised to hear Edgeworth’s voice purr into the darkness, “do that again.”

 

“Hm?” Phoenix glanced up to meet Edgeworth’s stormy, lidded eyes before he felt his head pushed back down and he grinned internally. Trying once more to swallow the other man, he triumphed when he made it just a bit further before gagging softly and pulling back just slightly, opting instead to cover with his hand what he couldn’t fit into his mouth. Edgeworth’s rough groan rang out in response and Phoenix felt it all the way down in his loins as he worked, slowly at first, then picking up his pace, watching the man’s body as best he could from the position. Almost… I think you can do better than that, Miles…

 

 To his surprise, Edgeworth pulled his head away entirely and sat up to kiss Phoenix’s swollen lips. He used his free hand to ensnare Phoenix’s, pressing it against his chest over his thundering heart as their tongues tangled against each other. When they broke apart, the prosecutor pressed his forehead against his partner’s. “Not yet,” he panted, “unless you… Unless you want to finish that way.”

 

Phoenix let a breathy laugh loose and shook his head. “You ought to know me better than that by now. I’ve never been one to quit halfway through.”

 

Edgeworth took a moment to kiss the attorney once more before continuing. “Unless it’s a promising art career?”

 

“Ouch, my feelings,” Phoenix mocked offense, unable to keep the smile off his face, “too soon, Miles.”

 

The prosecutor chuckled and turned the both of them, resuming his position on top of Phoenix. Returning the earlier gesture, he took his hand and smoothed black bangs away that had fallen in front of clear blue eyes. “I think I like the way you say my name.”

 

Phoenix allowed his boxers to be slid from his body then, shivering lightly at the new exposure. “Is that right?” Nervous laughter bubbled from his chest even as Edgeworth wrapped a hand around his length and began to stroke it gently. “Let’s see if you can get me to say it again, then.”

 

A snort permeated the air as his only warning before Phoenix felt his manhood slide past parted lips and he sucked in a breath, reeling in ecstasy as the tip of Edgeworth’s nose buried itself into ebony curls. Allowing no time for the attorney to recover from the shock, the prosecutor held Phoenix’s hips firm as he bobbed up and down, eliciting a deep moan from the man on his back. Pulling away, then, and separating himself with a quiet pop in the night air, Edgeworth smirked triumphantly over the attorney’s now-glistening erection. “As I told you before, Phoenix, be careful what you wish for.”

 

Phoenix was entirely unable to answer the familiar taunt, having been thoroughly silenced by the momentary pleasure that had wracked his body. He supposed he should have known better than to challenge Miles Edgeworth at anything, much less at something only he had done before, but it was too much fun to battle with his old friend now that it felt as though he finally, really and truly, had him back. Lifting his head from the pillow, he found the prosecutor had paused in his actions, seemingly searching for something as his eyes scanned the room. “What’s the matter?”

 

“This…will be a great deal more uncomfortable for you if you don’t have something we can use as a lubricant.”

 

Phoenix blinked a few times as the words sunk in. Despite his excitement, the simple request was a rather effective reminder as to what he was going to go through and he shivered briefly, trying to shake it off. “I think I might have something in my drawer, here. It’s pretty old if it’s there, but it should do the trick…” He turned and reached into the drawer on his bedside table, groping blindly for the old bottle he wasn’t quite sure was even still in there. While he searched, he could feel the other man smoothing his hands along his body and took comfort in it, enjoying the way their skin felt when it rubbed together.

 

…!

 

He pulled the small bottle out and peered at it, shaking it a bit to assess its contents. He wouldn’t have been able to report the last time it was used, but it seemed to have aged relatively well. Popping the cap, he worked the tube a bit until a small bead made its way out onto his fingers. It was still slick, he noted as he smoothed it across his fingertips, and he handed it over to Edgeworth. “See if this will work?”

 

The prosecutor mirrored his partner’s actions, first with a small drop of the substance, then with a larger quantity in his palm. Phoenix wondered for a moment what he intended to do with that much until he felt a hand close around his member and he gasped, thrusting into the slick tightness that worked his shaft.

 

“I think it will do nicely.” Edgeworth didn’t take his hand away, much to Phoenix’s delight, but instead used his free hand to prop one of the brunette’s ankles onto his shoulder. “This will be a lot easier if you keep at least one leg up. Don’t forget to breathe, and tell me if you need to stop, alright?”

 

Even in the middle of his hazy, pleasure-muddled trance, Phoenix managed to nod. As Edgeworth took his hand away to fiddle with the lubricant once more, the attorney allowed his head to fall back and he took a few deep breaths, steeling himself. He wasn’t completely foreign to what was about to happen, having experimented with himself a handful of times over the years, but still, he had to admit that he was more than a little nervous. Lifting his other foot, he braced his heels against the other man’s shoulders and grinned at him. “Hey.”

 

Edgeworth looked up, startled out of his concentration.

 

“I trust you, okay?”

 

The smile he received in response struck him like a blow. It was soft and bashful, special for him, and he knew in that moment that he would neither forget it nor ever stop searching for it again. Transfixed by the other man’s delicate features and how different he looked when they weren’t twisted into a determined scowl, Phoenix allowed himself to be distracted by the gentle kiss the prosecutor placed on his ankle bone as a fingertip prodded gently at his entrance.

 

The lubricant was cold and he tensed reflexively against the unusual feeling, but Edgeworth was quick to resume his earlier handiwork, going back to Phoenix’s aching manhood with long, steady strokes. It was difficult to differentiate between the two sensations, his focus torn between the delicious, slick pressure that teased him and the deft fingers that worked slowly but diligently to loosen him up. It wasn’t necessarily unpleasant, he reflected, and he bucked his hips, curious to find out where it would lead.

 

Edgeworth kept his word about being patient and worked long and slow to ensure the least amount of discomfort he could, despite wanting desperately to sink himself deeply into his partner. How long had he fantasized about this moment? He watched, hyper-focused, as he curled his fingers inside of the other man, searching for that spot he knew would fully win him over. How long had he imagined how this might happen, what the other man would taste like, sound like, how he would respond to the prosecutor’s touch? He slid his two fingers in and out of the attorney’s body slowly, stretching and stroking and teasing as much as he could, waiting until he was absolutely certain that the other man was mad with desire before he moved forward.

 

Phoenix cried out, arching his back, aching for more. After the initial pressure had passed and he was able to relax a bit, he found that the further the prosecutor got, the more he enjoyed the sensation. Wincing briefly as he felt the man add a third finger, he tried to remember to breathe and focused instead on the artwork that was Miles Edgeworth. He knew that even aside from his fame and fortune, the prosecutor had many who sought after him based on his looks alone. Given his status and extensive avoidance issues, Phoenix was tremendously flattered that he, of all people, was the one who was allowed to see behind those walls…

 

A jolt of white-hot pleasure rang through his body and he cried out once more, partly out of sheer surprise, unable to hold back. Above him, Edgeworth smirked victoriously and returned to that spot, merciless in his attack. Phoenix writhed beneath him, crushing his body down onto the hand that was driving him mad with pleasure, and it took everything he had not to cuss at the man when all of a sudden, the fingers were gone, and a pervasive emptiness was all that remained.

 

“I think you’re ready now,” the man murmured to him, and Phoenix watched with fascinated desire as Edgeworth sought out another palmful of lubricant—this time stroking himself with the slippery liquid.

 

Oh, I could definitely watch him do that for a while…

 

Soon, the prosecutor leaned forward and Phoenix could feel him positioning himself where his fingers had been moments ago. With a final reassuring gaze, Edgeworth pushed forth just a bit, pausing when his rival gasped and tensed beneath him. He held steady and smoothed a bead of sweat away from an ebony brow. “Relax, Phoenix, remember to breathe. It will feel better soon, I promise.” Allowing himself to slide in just a bit more, he felt his jaw clench at the sensation. Despite all of his earlier work, Phoenix was still incredibly tight, and combined with the heat and slick texture of his body surrounding his own manhood, it took everything he had to hold back.

 

To his surprise, he could feel the attorney shift his legs so that they wrapped around his waist, pulling him further in. He opened his eyes to see the other man’s brows furrowed in concentration and perhaps a bit of pain as he took the prosecutor on. Flexing his hips in sympathy, Edgeworth pulled back and experimented with a small thrust instead, knowing that the unique sensation would likely distract the other man long enough for him to get used to it. Judging by the noise he heard come forth from the brunette, it appeared to work. He tried another thrust, and then another, until he was fully and blissfully surrounded by the other man.

 

It was easy, then, to lean down and to kiss him while he kept his movements slow and sensual. To his credit, Phoenix rocked against him the best that he could, seemingly enjoying himself, occasionally shifting to try a different angle. Edgeworth was impressed; he hadn’t expected to get this far this quickly, but then again, his rival was one for seeing things through to the end… Sitting back and spreading the attorney’s legs a bit further, he grabbed hold of the man’s neglected erection. He was somewhat confident that neither of them would be lasting long tonight, but he’d be damned if he handed that victory over so easily.

 

As he predicted, Phoenix let loose an animalistic noise and tensed at the pleasure. The pressure caused Edgeworth to groan in turn and he quickened his pace, no longer able to resist. The two of them rocked against each other frantically, permeating the cool night air with panting breaths and deep grunts until soon enough, the brunette reached out and clasped onto Edgeworth’s forearm in a vice grip. “Don’t stop,” he managed to gasp out, “please—“

 

Adjusting his hips just slightly, the prosecutor tightened his grip on his partner’s member, pumping furiously to match the thrusts of his hips. He could tell that the other man was as close as he was. That’s it, Wright… Just a little bit more…

 

The attorney’s back arched off of the mattress and he called out in a throaty moan. “M-Miles!” His fists tugged at the comforter as he found his release, pouring thick, white cream over the prosecutor’s knuckles. His erection pulsed within its confines as Phoenix cried out with each shot, until he finally settled, trembling, onto the mattress.

 

It was enough to push Edgeworth over the edge, himself, as he pulled out from the tight hole and leaned over top of the other man, stroking himself until he could feel the tide of pleasure take over his body. Distantly, he thought he heard his own voice yelling the other man’s name as he came, decorating the attorney’s tanned skin with his own seed.

 

When his head finally cleared enough to bring him back around to awareness, Edgeworth opened his eyes to find his partner smirking at him. Not entirely confident that he could eloquently form words quite yet, he narrowed his eyes and shook his head. Whatever it was could wait. He pushed himself up off of the man and made for the restroom, feeling somewhat awkward in a home that didn’t belong to him. It didn’t take long before he found a washcloth near the sink, however, and he saturated it with hot water before working efficiently to clean himself off. Rinsing and re-saturating the cloth once he was satisfied, he returned to the bedroom.

 

Even as disheveled as he was, Phoenix was stunning enough that Edgeworth had to pause for a moment and take him in. Nearly elegant as he was sprawled across the surface of the bed, he was reclined comfortably as he dozed in the moonlight, halfway between awake and asleep. The man was broader than Edgeworth, reminiscent of an athletic build, and in the silvery atmosphere, it almost appeared as though he were carved from marble. Court is going to be hell, knowing what’s under that suit of his now… He knelt on the bed to announce his presence and handed the washcloth to the other man. “Here, clean yourself up.”

 

“Hey, thanks,” the response was a harsh whisper. Phoenix dabbed and wiped at himself, grimacing here and there as he worked diligently to clean the remnants of their bout from his body. Once he was satisfied, he balled the washcloth tightly and tossed it across the room where it bounced lightly against the wall and tumbled into the hamper. The two of them kicked briefly at the comforter and sheets until they were able to pull them up onto their bodies. To Edgeworth’s surprise, Phoenix then wrapped a thick arm around his shoulders and pulled him down against his chest with a contented sigh.

 

Although sleep tugged at him, the prosecutor took a few fleeting seconds to appreciate the situation as it was. All the work he had put into himself over the last year had come to this moment. All of the torturous self-examination and insistence upon discovering what it truly meant for him to be a good man and a good prosecutor had culminated into this experience and he finally allowed his head to rest against his partner’s chest. How wonderful, he reflected, to finally feel worthy.

Chapter 10: Chapter 10

There was nothing extraordinary about the scenery outside Phoenix Wright’s window when Edgeworth woke up. The curtains were pregnant with dust and released tiny particles into the air as he sat up and parted the unassuming cloth, and as he noted the clouds rolling in from the west, laden with rain and lightning, he sighed. Crowds pulsated in the streets beneath the tiny apartment, curses and greetings and telephone conversations molding into a low drone that was muffled by his window. The world had awoken without him, for once, and he cleared a bit of phlegm from his throat as he allowed the curtains to drift back together.

 

It was a gentle, unaware Saturday morning outside, and yet...

 

Glancing at the alarm clock on the nightstand, he noted that he had slept in a great deal. It was pushing nine at this point, and while he had no pressing cases that needed his attention, he felt an inkling of guilt swell within his gut at having wasted so much of the morning. The prosecutor pawed at his eyes and propped himself back onto his arms, willing the rest of his body to catch up with his mind. It had been a long time since he had slept so well and for so long and the sensation left him feeling unusually sluggish, but in a good way. Surrendering to the laziness of the morning for just a bit longer, he promised himself, he laid back gently and stretched hard, relishing the soreness of muscles he hadn’t used in a while.

 

Phoenix was still knocked out beside him, spread languidly across the mattress and almost entirely exposed, having kicked most of the covers off at some point throughout the night. He slept peacefully, content, and Miles smiled at him. Last night had gone just about as well as he could have hoped for, and although there were still some lingering, wispy anxieties tugging at the back of his mind, he was happy to accept the situation as it was for the time being. They had made tremendous progress in such a small amount of time. The rest, he was sure, would follow with time.

 

Rolling to his belly, he felt his joints pop quietly as he flexed his shoulders, trying in earnest not to wake the sleeping man next to him. Sunlight poured in through the crack between the curtains and illuminated the room in gold, and Edgeworth noted that it looked almost entirely different than it had a mere 8 hours prior. Suppose I wasn’t exactly thinking clearly at that time, either, was I? The headboard in front of him was done in a sort of bookshelf style and was littered with more photographs and trinkets, catching his eye.

 

Unlike the photos on the wall in the living room, these were obviously a bit more personal: There was one of Phoenix and Mia flashing toothy grins, a slightly larger one of Maya and Pearl fast asleep on the couch he’d sat on the evening prior, and—he paused.

 

A double frame sat on its own, off to the right, obscured slightly by a small keychain and a folded piece of paper, worn nearly through at the creases. A glance to his left reassured him that Phoenix was still sound asleep, so he reached for the ensemble, curious as to what made it so significant as to have space all to itself.

 

On the left side of the frame, where the keychain hung on a small golden tack that had been driven into the corner, there was a photograph of them as children. With no small amount of amusement, he noticed immediately that Larry Butz had been haphazardly torn from the picture, leaving only himself and Phoenix Wright. They must have been around 8 years old, sitting on the retaining wall outside of his father’s house enjoying what looked to be popsicles. The keychain that hung there was that of the blue Signal Samurai, though most of the paint had been worn off at this point, leaving only the skeleton of the helmet’s various bedazzlings.

 

The right side of the frame had a photo of Edgeworth as a young adult, one he’d been unaware had even been taken. The candid photo had obviously been expanded and cropped to show only him, and even then, it had been taken from behind him. Still, he was smiling in the picture, insofar as he typically smiled. He wondered what the conversation had been about or who had snapped the shot. Narrowing his eyes, he plucked the folded piece of paper delicately from where it had been stuffed into the frame, careful not to tear it. It felt like newspaper and as he unfurled it, he fought the urge to laugh.

 

It was an article about one of his very first cases after debuting as a prosecutor.

 

The ink was fading terribly but the photo was still intact, showing a cocky, young Edgeworth in a gaudy suit posing triumphantly outside of a courthouse. He remembered it like it was yesterday, although it inspired him more to cringe than to reminisce. He never would have guessed that Phoenix Wright, of all people, would keep a custom photo of him next to his pillow, although he might have suspected the article. The more he discovered about the man, the more of a mystery he became.

 

A scratchy voice grumbled next to him, muted by the pillow covering the source’s mouth. “There’s something else that might interest you if you reach down into the drawer next to the bed, y’know.”

 

Annoyed with himself for startling at the unexpected comment, Edgeworth put the frame collection back as he’d found it and turned his head to see a bleary blue eye squinting at him, obviously irritated by the sunlight. He cocked an eyebrow at the offer. “Is that so?”

 

Phoenix grumbled briefly at the question and stuffed his face back into the pillow, clearly unwilling to assist further. Edgeworth reached down and groped around the side of the mattress, confused as to where this drawer was until he discovered that it was built into the frame of the bed. The drawer slid freely and he leaned over to peer into it, finding it full of various art supplies that were strewn over top of a stained canvas-covered book. He fished it out of the drawer and brought it back up onto the pillow, wondering what to expect. “Is it this book?”

 

The brunette grumbled into his pillow, “You were so impressed by my artwork last night, I figured you’d wanna see more of it.” He turned his head away from the prosecutor and curled up around his pillow. “Seeing as you woke up so damned early. It’s Saturday, Edgeworth. Geeze.”

 

“How you have made it this far with your work ethic, Wright, I will never know.” He kept his tone light and quiet, distracted by his newfound insight into the other man. The initial pages were littered with different doodles and a few comics, mostly mocking the man’s various shortcomings in court. As he progressed, however, the drawings became larger and more intricate, varying wildly in subject matter. A caricature of Franziska hanging from her whip with a triumphant duo of Phoenix and Gumshoe cheering behind her brought forth a laugh before he could swallow it. That must have been a rough trial… On the opposing page sat Edgeworth drawn as a…chicken? He squinted at the words written underneath it:

 

“ThEre’S PRintS on ThE MurDEr WeAPOn”

 

Gray eyes slid over to glare suspiciously at the body lying peacefully next to him and he considered giving him a firm kick, but passed. He supposed, in a way, that he’d likely earned that one.

 

His fingers turned the pages delicately, taking care not to smear the graphite on the thick paper. He could tell that the man went through phases as he filled the book, transitioning from animals to still life, and finally an impressive collection of portraits. He admired each of them in their own right, surprised to find even a few of himself (his human self, anyway) littered among some faces he recognized and a lot he didn’t. The last drawing in the book was that of a beautiful young girl staring serenely back at him with a gentle smile, hair split into two intricate pleats that took her bangs away from her face. Although he couldn’t quite put a finger on why, it seemed as though the other man had put more effort and detail into this particular drawing than any of the others. He stared at it, unable to shake the feeling that he’d at least seen her face before, when Phoenix interrupted him.

 

“She could have been a supermodel.” Phoenix had joined him in viewing the various sketches at some point, though his face was twisted into an uncomfortable smile as he gazed upon the young girl from where his head still laid on the pillow. “I was head over heels for her, convinced that we'd get married and be happy forever. She said jump, I asked how high. I spent every second I could with her, hopelessly in love.” He shook his head, obviously lost down memory lane. Edgeworth listened attentively, trying to quash the unusual feeling of envy that bubbled within his chest. He could tell that this wasn’t something that the attorney freely discussed with most, if anybody, and so he simply turned his eyes back to the page in front of him and kept silent. “I nearly failed an entire semester because of her. I’m not sure I even cared at the time.”

 

Edgeworth snorted. “Your dedication truly knows no bounds, Wright.” A delicate silence fell between them as they both considered what to say. The prosecutor cleared his throat and eyed his friend uncomfortably, wondering if it were really his place to ask, “What happened to her?”

 

Phoenix's smile turned painful for a moment. “It...turned out that the relationship was basically one-sided. It didn't end well, that's for sure.” He scrubbed a hand over his face and then back through his hair, further mussing the bedhead that threw his black spikes into disarray. “She ended up trying to kill me and framing me for murder at the same time because I was unknowingly holding decisive evidence that could have convicted her for poisoning somebody else. A lawyer. I thought the damned thing was a gift…” His voice stuck in his throat and his heart pounded within his chest, and he wondered yet again why he felt it necessary to confess his darkest secrets—ones he had tried for so long to bury, no less—to the man sitting next to him the morning after they slept together for the first time.  Lost in his thoughts, the defense attorney closed his eyes and remembered, in painful silence, how it had felt to hear her words from the defendant's seat. “She ended up...confessing that she actually hated my guts, the entire relationship was a sham, and that she wanted me dead. I was...shattered.”

 

His fingers fiddled with the corner of the pillow as he leaned up onto his elbows, deciding to put the icing on the cake. He'd come this far, after all. “As far as I know, she’s still in jail, and I haven't been with anybody since. I'm pretty sure my brain unintentionally swore off of women after that.”

 

It was only when he heard the awkward, suppressed laughter that he opened his eyes and glanced over at his childhood friend who was giggling away. “What...what's so funny, Edgeworth?” He might have been offended if it weren't so rare to see the man expressing anything but disgust or sorrow.

 

The prosecutor’s grin was sophisticated even in its barely-controlled hysterics. “Only you could possibly fall in love and end up framed for murder and nearly killed at the same time, Wright. Honestly, is anything ever straightforward with you?”

 

Phoenix folded his arms and attempted to pout, but in the end, he had to laugh. It was funny, in a macabre sort of way. He watched absentmindedly as Edgeworth closed the book and placed it back in its drawer. “I’m glad you stayed.”

 

“Hm.” The prosecutor stretched languidly and rested his head on his arms, turning to admire his new lover. “I’m glad, too, despite your apparent tendency to sleep the day away.”

 

To his surprise, Phoenix chuckled playfully and moved to clamber on top of him as if to hold him hostage even further. When the brunette was settled, he laid his head down between the prosecutor’s shoulder blades. “Can I at least make you breakfast before I have to give you back to reality?”

 

Edgeworth’s voice rumbled pleasantly beneath him. “This is reality, Wright.”

 

A sigh, and then: “No, I mean, I guess it is, but…” The attorney sat up and drew distractedly upon the pale skin underneath him, tracing the lines left imprinted upon it from the bedsheet. “Soon you’re going to have to leave, and we’ll both go back to work, and it isn’t exactly like I can give you a good luck smooch before a case…”

 

The prosecutor could hear the pout in the other man’s voice even without turning. He snorted. “We do live in the same city, you know. Perhaps you’d like to return to my place next time? I seem to recall a promise from you that you would be wearing a tie…” A lengthy pause met his ears and he swallowed a frustrated sigh, opting instead to turn over awkwardly, still pinned by the other man’s weight. As expected, Phoenix was trying valiantly to mask his anxiety, but his eyes never lied. Edgeworth took the man’s hands into his own and waited until the brunette made eye contact with him. “What kind of man do you take me for, Wright?”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Do you honestly believe I would go through all the effort of getting us to this point just to up and throw it all away a few days later?”

 

Phoenix blinked at him a few times, obviously still uncomprehending.

 

“I spent a year transforming myself into someone worthy of coming back here and starting over. With work, with friends, and with…you. Provided that you would have me, of course.” Despite the seriousness of the subject matter, Edgeworth couldn’t help but smirk as he reached up to run his hands along the attorney’s ribs, reminding both of them that they were still very nude. He appreciated the blush that it drew from the man. “So far, I dare say, that’s been going surprisingly well, even if I had to suffer through that pizza to get to this stage.”

 

“You loved it.” Phoenix squirmed under the prosecutor’s touch, wary of how close Edgeworth was getting to unwittingly tickling him. “Just wait until you have s’mores. You’re going to lose it. You might as well bring a pair of nitrile gloves…” There was a throaty chuckle beneath him and he allowed himself to be tugged downward, feeling slightly less awkward each time he was brought into the other man’s embrace. For a moment, they simply kissed, soaking up each other’s company in the fringes of the lazy morning. Phoenix pulled away, then, and caught his lover’s gaze with a mischievous grin. “You know…”

 

“Hm?”

 

“…we never did get a chance to clean up last night.” The brunette masked his widening smile by tucking his nose underneath Edgeworth’s chin. “So your fancy clothes are all over my kitchen,” he reached up and trailed his fingers along the top of a pale shoulder, “and I get to enjoy these freckles while you figure out what to do about that…”

 

He’d taken it slightly too far and belted out the laugh he’d been holding in as the prosecutor planted a hand into Phoenix’s face, shoving him back onto his side of the mattress. Blue eyes watched with lazy interest as the other man fished around for his underwear and then his pants, sporting a light flush across his cheekbones as he did so. At long last, the attorney rolled out of bed and stretched, pressing his palms against the ceiling and yawning dramatically. A simple addition of flannel pajama pants got him ready to go and he sauntered out of the bedroom, feeling lighter than he had in a year.

 

The kitchen was in a terrible state of disarray: Dirty plates, napkins, pizza still in its original box, clothing hung on the cabinets, the lights still on… He tutted, feeling completely uninspired to tidy up the place, but figured it was a necessary evil if he wanted to follow through on his breakfast offer. As his hands moved mechanically and made short work of the deceptively large spread, he suppressed a grin and considered teasing the other man with a bowl of cereal instead of an actual hot meal. How much poor food could he push on the prosecutor in one weekend? He glanced over his shoulder at the man who was suspiciously quiet, finding him staring down at the piano Phoenix had played for him the day prior.

 

“I wouldn’t mind hearing some Chopin while I make breakfast, if you don’t mind,” he tried to keep the laughter out of his voice and failed miserably, “or maybe some Shostakovich?” There was light grumbling behind him and he giggled to himself, wondering if Edgeworth would actually allow him to teach him how to play a few things sometime. He busied himself with making breakfast for the two of them until the other man’s deep voice rang out across the living room.

 

“This instrument looks like it survived a war, Wright.”

 

The attorney juggled the containers of eggs and bacon in one hand while he reached for a frying pan with the other. “Well, it pretty much has, you know. I really ought to get the thing tuned sometime, but with Maya living here, I can’t really spare the expense of it.” After turning the stove on, he found a small container for the pizza crusts Edgeworth had requested and set them aside, then peeled off several strips of bacon and laid them in the pan. “Besides, it’s not like I ever really play for anyone but myself, so it’s good enough, I guess.” His stomach churned with hunger as the bacon sizzled away and he stared at it longingly, willing it to cook faster.

 

Behind him, Edgeworth glanced at him sidelong, evaluating his childhood friend. He, himself, had never struggled financially, though his father had certainly not been rich, either. He knew that Phoenix would never make as much as he did, and probably made far less in general since his career was so young yet. Still, the man had taken the spirit medium in without hesitation, and often the little one as well, sacrificing apparently much to accommodate the two girls. His eyes trailed back to the beaten instrument in front of him and he slid his hands into his pockets, wondering if it would be appropriate to offer to help him. On the one hand, he of course risked offending the man by offering him something he already admitted that he couldn’t afford, even if it wasn’t outright money. On the other hand, they were sort of an item now, he figured, and if it were simply a gift to the man…

 

The prosecutor twiddled his fingers against his thighs as he looked away from the piano and instead went to admire the four strange art pieces on the wall. Is this the kind of talent he set aside to follow me? He reached up and touched one of the paintings, running his fingertips along the rough surface, tracing the brush strokes that formed the picture. It made him a bit sad to think that someone had cut off an entire career path full of such passion and beauty just for the chance—not even a guarantee—to meet up with him again. The thought brought forth the memory of Phoenix’s face as he sat on the bench that night.

 

“You came back for me, didn’t you?”

 

He winced.

 

“How do I know you won’t just leave again?”

 

Standing there, surrounded by all of the man’s memories and talents and worn-down but well-loved things, he could feel his shoulders sag under the weight of the burden he’d caused. Even after all the years of phone calls and letters, after all of the sleep and money lost to doubling in law, after being torn apart and built back up again in the courtroom simply to find him, then defending him—twice—when he’d insisted that the man shouldn’t bother, he’d asked for nothing, really—nothing but for Edgeworth to be himself as Phoenix had once knew him. He frowned, determined. He had a lot to make up for, but he could at least start by fixing something that had kept Phoenix sane while he waited for him.

 

He nearly jumped as two arms slid around his midsection and hugged him backward against a warm, bare chest.

 

“Penny for your thoughts? You got sort of gloomy all of a sudden.”

 

Edgeworth chuckled briefly and reached up to rest his hands on the forearms around his belly. “Phoenix, I want you to make me a promise.”

 

A curious silence permeated the air and the prosecutor felt the other man’s chin come to rest on his shoulder. “What is it?”

 

“Don’t ever throw your talents away, alright?” As Phoenix tilted his head to stare questioningly at the strange request, Edgeworth continued. “You’re a good lawyer, but you’re a great artist. These things,” he gestured vaguely ahead of them, “they’re rare, what you can do. I may be able to incarcerate killers, but you have the capacity to bring people joy, and I robbed you of that for years.” He turned to face the other man who was smiling awkwardly, obviously unused to compliments. “I’m sorry you had to chase me for so long, especially now that I know what you had to give up to do it.”

 

To his surprise, Phoenix chuckled, brushing the comment off. “I’d be just as poor playing piano for people as I am defending them against your scary ass, so don’t worry about it.” He briefly padded over to the kitchen where he retrieved both of their plates, eager to begin breakfast. “Besides,” he set them onto the table and beckoned the prosecutor over, “now I get to have all three things, so that’s a win in my book, if you ask me. Took me twenty years, but hey, who’s counting?”

 

Just as they were about to dig in, Edgeworth’s cell phone went off in his pocket. He paused in reaching for it until Phoenix waved him on, happily diving into his own breakfast. He unlocked the screen and opened the message from Gumshoe, annoyed at having such an enjoyable morning interrupted. As his eyes scanned over the text, his annoyance tripled, and he couldn’t quite stop the sigh of irritation that escaped him.

 

Phoenix eyed him curiously, pausing in his attack on a slice of bacon. “What’s up?”

 

“New case, homicide. Poisoning, or so they believe. The suspect is in custody and I’ve been assigned the case.” To his surprise, there was a small noise of disgust next to him. He locked the phone and slid it back into his pocket before he, at long last, began delicately taking apart one of his eggs. As he took a bite, he raised his brows at the attorney, encouraging him to expand on the sound.

 

“I just really hate poisonings.” Edgeworth watched in muted horror as the attorney folded his egg, stabbed through the entire thing, and crammed it into his mouth, scowling as he continued around chewing. “They’re cowardly and cruel and hard to prove,” he swallowed, waving his fork animatedly, oblivious to his audience, “and they also remind me of that case—“

 

There was a hard silence. Phoenix had stopped cold and stared blankly ahead and Edgeworth nibbled gracefully upon his own bacon, watching the man. After a few seconds ticked by, Phoenix shook his head and went after his other egg. He offered no further explanation, and the prosecutor didn’t seek one, although he was becoming increasingly curious as to what else, exactly, had happened during that trial. He wondered if he’d be able to find the case file. If only he had something more to go off of… “What was her name?”

 

The attorney raised an eyebrow at him.

 

“You just…” Edgeworth faltered, not wanting to give away his motives quite yet, “you seemed so taken with her at the time, I found it odd that you never mentioned her name.”

 

“Hm,” Phoenix finally stuffed the other egg into his mouth and chewed pensively, but ultimately waved his hand dismissively. “Nah, I’d rather not risk it.” He placed his plate on the table and stood, apparently uncomfortable. It reminded Edgeworth distinctly of when Phoenix had tried just as hard to get the DL-6 information out of him and he groaned internally, knowing he was likely up for a fight, but willing to chase it if it meant helping the other man finally put things to bed, as he had once done for him.

 

Phoenix began making his way toward the hallway but paused in the threshold to toss an overly serious glance over his shoulder at the prosecutor. “Saying her name might summon her, being that she’s a murderous, manipulative demon and all. I wouldn’t chase after this one if I were you, Miles.” With that, he nodded, and disappeared toward the restroom.

 

Edgeworth sighed and stared down at what was left of his breakfast. He knew he’d be in trouble for this if Phoenix ever found out, but… Sliding his phone back out of his pocket, he navigated to Gumshoe’s thread of messages. Doing some quick math, he quickly fired off a message to the faithful detective, confident that it would be worth it in the long run.

 

“There was a case somewhere between 9/13 and 5/14 that involved Wright. I need you to find it for me.”

 

He set the phone down next to him and finished his breakfast as he heard the shower kick on down the hallway. To his surprise, he received a response relatively quickly:

 

“Got it, sir. 4/11/14-electrocution case. Not guilty.”

 

The prosecutor stacked his plate neatly atop the other man’s and carried both to the kitchen, setting them down in the sink before leaning against the counter. He was perplexed by the strange guilty feeling that was swelling within his chest and he fought to curb it, wondering what the issue was. He was simply learning more about the other man’s past, nothing more. It’s not like it would even come up in conversation. He scoffed and typed his own response:

 

“Pull the file for me and have it ready on my desk. I’ll see you in two hours at the crime scene.”

 

With that, he slid the phone back into his pocket and tried to shake the feeling that he was somehow betraying the other man’s trust. After all, Phoenix had found out about the DL-6 case on his own after Edgeworth had done his best to deter him, so how was this any different? He shook his head, marveling at how complicated his life had become as of late.

 

It was just as he was about to reach for his shirt that he heard Phoenix begin to croon while he enjoyed his shower, the smooth voice carrying over the sound of the water. He chuckled to himself and turned, intent on interrupting the man. As he walked down the hallway, he felt himself suppress a full-out laugh and pulled his phone out once more. Just before he turned the door handle, he fired off one last message to the waiting detective:

 

“Three hours.”

Chapter 11: Chapter 11

“Hi, Mister Edgeworth, it’s Maya Fey. Listen, we’re in a real bind here because Nick can’t get his head out of his own you-know-what…”

 

An amused snort rang out into the otherwise quiet office, followed by a delicate sip of tea.

 

“See, I guess he’s pretty sure that he saw you a few days ago and now he’s all mopey about it because he’s convinced that you don’t like him anymore…”

 

The delicate noise of china being set down onto a saucer, followed by fingers drumming on a desk.

 

“...so if you could maybe talk to him somehow, that would be really great. Okay, hope you're well, and welcome back! We've missed you!”

 

Edgeworth stared at his answering machine, amused. It was the first day he’d been properly back in the office following an extensive collection of renovations that needed done to bring the building back up to code. He was only now getting around to checking the messages left on his office phone, having been largely unconcerned about the urgency of it and otherwise occupied by his current investigation, besides. After all, most who would have needed him directly had his cell phone number, but Maya Fay did not fall into that category, herself… He wondered how he would have reacted to such a message prior to being ambushed by half the county in Wright’s office the week prior. He supposed it was for the better that things had worked out as they had after all.

 

Declining to delete the message just yet, he moved onto the next, writing furiously to keep up with the rushed words rather than having to replay the voicemail all over again. It was no surprise that the machine’s memory was full, given his extended absence, and he had much to catch up on. He scratched a line under his scribbled note just as the machine moved onto yet another message and he sighed, fighting distraction. His index finger jabbed the pause button under the little digital screen on his phone and he took a deep breath, rubbing dejectedly at the bridge of his nose.

 

It had been relatively difficult to leave Wright’s apartment after their little breakfast date had turned into a sultry battle in the shower. He could feel his cheeks heat up a bit as his thoughts inevitably turned to the memory of Phoenix, in a rare moment of bravery, having pinned him to the shower wall as the man had insisted on “helping him with the hard-to-reach spots”… He shook his head in an attempt to clear the seductive fog that was threatening to prevent yet more work from being done. He could still see the already-thick file waiting for him on the far side of his desk, isolated ominously and unabashed about the amount of concentration it would take simply to make it through all of the information, much less prepare and catalogue it properly. His leg began to bounce in agitation and he stabbed at the pause button again, determined to at least make it through his messages that morning.

 

Still, he mused as he absentmindedly took notes along to the recordings, there was one more thing he wanted to get a good look at before he dug into the fresh case that awaited him. Despite ample opportunities to do so, he hadn’t yet forgotten about the mystery girl that his partner had sketched out in black and white, and Gumshoe had dutifully retrieved the file for him after all. It was sitting neatly beneath the pad of paper upon which he wrote his notes and as each message passed, he wrote faster, impatient to get to it but unwilling to deviate from his self-imposed to-do list. The longer he’d thought about it, the less guilty he felt about delving into the case history, despite the brunette attorney’s insistence that he leave it be. The way he figured, he’d learn something about Phoenix while also saving him the trouble of having to speak about the uncomfortable memories himself. It really was a win-win.

 

Finally through the exhaustive list of messages, he scooted the notepad off to the side and laid his pen down upon it, thankful that he would finally be able to satiate some of his curiosity in private. He reached for his tea and sipped at it as he turned the folder open and narrowed his eyes at what he saw.

 

On the left hand side, secured to the bare manila folder at the top, was a photo of the victim in the case. “Doug Swallow, huh?” The picture grinned back at him, a moment frozen in history. Various details about the victim littered the page underneath the photo and he skimmed over them before turning his attention to the next page. There, opposite the first photograph of the victim, was a second photo—this time of a young Phoenix Wright. Edgeworth took another sip of tea and deftly undid the two flexible metal prongs that held the page in place, allowing him to lift the page closer for him to see.

 

Beaming back at him was a young Phoenix, dressed in an outrageous combination of a red scarf and a bubblegum pink sweater that was adorned with a giant heart encasing a “P”. A face mask had been pulled down under his chin for the photograph, undoubtedly so that they could identify his facial features. His hair was still the same crown of ebony spikes it ever was, and although his cheeks still held a bit of childlike roundness to them, he was really the same old Phoenix that Edgeworth had ever known. Still, despite his burning curiosity about his childhood friend’s missing past, his eyes continued to drop down to the man’s outfit and he squinted at it in disgust. “You actually wore this to court, Wright?” He murmured it to the picture, somewhere between amused and horrified. “No wonder you didn’t want me looking this up…”

 

His eyes finally trailed down through the same sorts of demographics that had been listed under the primary victim’s photo. Age, height, weight, occupation… Edgeworth peered at the words on the page.

 

SUSPECT, PRIMARY:

Name: Wright, Phoenix

Age: 21

Eye Color:  Blue

Hair Color: Black

Height: 5’9”; 176cm

Weight: 163lb; 73.9kg

Occupation: Student; Ivy University (Art/Political Science, Pre-Law)

 

The prosecutor let a small sigh escape. So, he really had retained both majors. An incredibly impressive feat considering the amount of work that both pursuits required… He really ought to have given the man more credit, though he hadn’t really known enough about him to do so until recently. He continued down the page, feeling a bit voyeuristic. “Only child, decent grades, extroverted personality… Devoted to his girlfriend, Dahlia—“

 

He nearly choked on his tea as he read over the words again.

 

Devoted to his girlfriend, Dahlia Hawthorne [Key Witness].

 

At the far recesses of his thoughts, Edgeworth could feel a sort of mental tingling in response to the name. It spurred a visceral response in his body as he read it yet again, certain that it was important to him, but just unable to truly grasp the connection between this Dahlia girl and himself. He laid the page face down over Doug Swallow and startled violently as he glanced over the next photo.

 

There, in the same location as the other photos, a picture of a stunningly beautiful redhead smiling serenely, head tilted at a coy angle, encased in white lace and linen. As he stared down at the photo, his thoughts abruptly produced the terrible image of Terry Fawles’s blood sliding languidly over his bottom lip as the man sunk against the witness stand, still valiantly maintaining his gaze at the emotionless woman sat in shackles across from him… Edgeworth sat back from the folder hard enough that his chair rolled a bit and he squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to get rid of the image of the lumbering man who had sunk, inch by inch, as the poison wreaked havoc on his insides. The prosecutor had tried for years to get the images out of his head, having been mildly traumatized from the unexpected results of his first legitimate case. Having the experience that he did now, he would absolutely have to admit that even as fuzzy as his memory was on the details of that particular case, it had ultimately become obvious that the man was no murderer, but that girl on the other hand…

 

He opened his eyes and stared anew at the deceptively sweet girl on the page. Even as a too-young, nervous, brand new prosecutor, he’d been uncomfortably surprised at the absolute coldness that had emanated from the young lady as that trial had proceeded and she was increasingly cornered by testimony. von Karma had trained him to be emotionless, sure, but he was certain that there was a difference even then: Edgeworth was well-practiced in suppressing his emotions, but this girl… He thought back to how it had felt to look her in the eye toward the end of that trial. She had no emotions to suppress. It was simply empty, a soulless, vacuous gaze that had looked through him. He shuddered at the memory.

 

“I was head over heels for her, convinced that we'd get married and be happy forever. She said jump, I asked how high. I spent every second I could with her, hopelessly in love…”

 

Edgeworth blinked at the memory of Phoenix’s quiet admission to him. The concept of dating a woman who could look at anybody the way that this girl had looked at him was beyond his comprehension. He reached out and flipped the defense attorney’s detail page back over, lying his and Hawthorne’s next to each other, trying to imagine the two together. His thoughts turned acidic almost immediately, jealously sending its winding fingers through his mind as he involuntarily thought of them in bed together as he had just lay with Phoenix not 48 hours ago. Narrowing his eyes, he scowled furiously, irritated at the irrational emotion and also curious as to how the brunette could have come to share himself with such a monster until he remembered that he, too, had been described as vicious and soulless not terribly long ago…

 

A knock at his door startled him half to death and he crushed the folder shut in a rush before realizing that he had control over when people could enter his office. Feeling sheepish, as though he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar, he cleared his throat and composed himself before calling out, “Come in.”

 

“Morning, sir,” Gumshoe murmured, despite the fact that it was nearly 1pm. Edgeworth let out a small breath that he hadn’t realized he’d been holding and nodded politely, surprised to see the man step aside. “We have a young lady here who would like to speak with you, sir, requested you specifically,” he motioned behind him, beckoning someone to come in, “you weren’t answering your phones, but she has to be back home in a few hours, so I hope it’s alright.”

 

“It’s fine, Detective,” he sighed, wondering how this mystery girl even managed to track him down in the first place and why Gumshoe couldn’t worry about it himself. For the time being, the only thing he was interested in was drinking up secrets about his new lover. Still, he could take some statements and contact information and dive further into it at a later time. Reaching for his notepad and turning to a fresh page, he heard the detective seating the girl in the background and leaving. In a perfect world, he’d leave this part to the precinct, but old perfectionist habits died hard…

 

Unenthused, he jotted the date and a few notes about the situation down before he lifted his gaze to the young girl seated across from him. He stared at her.

 

“Good morning, sir, I’m sorry to bother you…” Her voice was gentle and smooth even in spite of the underlying anxiety. “The detective who brought me here said you just returned from a sabbatical. I’m sorry to intrude; I’m sure you’re very busy.”

 

Edgeworth knew that this was a part where he was supposed to reply, but he was still reeling in shock. The young lady Gumshoe had brought in was the absolute spitting image of Dahlia Hawthorn, save for her raven black hair, and he blinked at the insane coincidence, wondering how appropriate it would be to ask if there were any relation before even asking her name. A few seconds ticked by and she sat politely, if a little curiously, waiting for him to collect himself.

 

“Ah, yes, I’ve just returned from Germany, actually,” he finally managed to say, regaining a bit of his composure as the girl in front of him smiled warmly. The more he watched her, the less she reminded him of Dahlia, thankfully. This one, he mused, at least had a soul. “May I get you a cup of tea before we begin?” He motioned gently toward the delicate teapot behind him as it steamed quietly away.

 

A look of surprise overtook her face before she smiled graciously and nodded a bit, folding her hands in her lap. “That would be nice, thank you. I’m a little nervous.”

 

“I assure you, you’re in good hands, Miss…?” Edgeworth busied himself with readying a cup of Earl Grey for his guest, trying to shake the remainder of his earlier shock. He measured the loose leaf tea into the tiny mesh holder with lightly trembling hands and he cursed them, trying desperately to bring himself back under control, furious that it was such a struggle to do so. One night with that man and all of a sudden I’m like an unraveling ball of yarn…

 

“Oh, call me Iris, please,” her voice was almost musical when she spoke to him, and he was distantly reminded of the woodwind choirs that used to sing quietly in the background of special dinners in the von Karma house on the rare occasion where music was permitted. The prosecutor turned and set her tea down in front of her, saucer neatly adorned with two sugar cubes and a miniature spoon. She blinked curiously at it before she reached toward it and he sighed internally, accustomed to the reaction.

 

Does no one drink from quality china anymore? His memory instantly produced a vivid picture of Gumshoe and Wright standing elbow to elbow and happily tossing back lukewarm coffee from Styrofoam cups. Fortunately, the grimace did not reach his face that time. His pen rolled within his fingertips, somewhat impatiently, as he waited for the young girl to begin speaking. She was dressed unusually modestly in a flowing gown with a hood that was currently pulled back from her face; the entire ensemble distinctly reminded him of Maya Fey’s unusual garb. He watched her idly as she fiddled uncomfortably with a sugar cube before dropping both into her tea. “So, Miss Iris, what brings you in to speak with me today?”

 

“Ah, yes, about that, I read an article about you in a newspaper not long ago. It said that you had faced off against a man named Phoenix Wright in court. Does that name sound familiar to you?”

 

Edgeworth regarded her with a cool stare, deciding not to ask why she’d been reading a newspaper more than a year old. “It does, yes.”

 

Unphased by his lack of reaction, she pressed on, silently stirring her tea as she continued. “This is probably going to sound a little…well…unbelievable,” she stared into her lap as she murmured the words to him, “but I believe that his life may be in danger.”

 

The prosecutor frowned. “In danger? What do you mean?”

 

“He—well, back in college, he dated a girl—”

 

“Dahlia Hawthorne.” The words tumbled from his lips before he could catch them, memory still fresh in his mind from his earlier snooping. Almost immediately, he suppressed a flinch and cursed himself, wondering what it would take to finally bring himself under control. Somewhat expectedly, his prediction elicited a startled stare from his guest and he sighed, unsure of how much information would be appropriate to justify the suggestion. “Wright and I are…old friends. The name came up once or twice.”

 

Mollified, Iris pressed a delicate hand to her chest and frowned, averting her gaze. “Dahlia was put in prison a few years ago for m—” her bottom lip trembled a bit as she tried to force the word out, “—for doing something terrible. I kept in contact with her while she was there when she wasn’t being kept in solitary, but something in her letters lately made me nervous.” Edgeworth watched as her fingers moved from clutching the broach around her neck to grasping the delicate handle of her teacup. She took care to hold the saucer under her cup as she sipped hesitantly at the beverage, testing the temperature first, before taking a longer sample. For a moment, the sorrow in her eyes vanished as she peered down at her cup. “This is…very good!”

 

The prosecutor jotted a few more notes onto his paper before flipping the page and chuckled. “Few people appreciate good tea these days, Miss Iris. I’m pleased that you enjoy it.”

 

Petal-pink lips split into a smile that shined like rays of sunlight through thunderstorm clouds. Edgeworth found himself momentarily ensnared by their spell even as she began to speak once more. “Phoenix always drank instant coffee. Four-sugar-four-cream. I had never even tried it before I met him—” The smile vanished. “Ahem, anyway, in the last letter Dahlia wrote, there was something that made me worry about him.”

 

Edgeworth narrowed his eyes, curious. Scooting his notes a bit closer to himself, he scribbled down a few hasty observations: Knows Wright? Doesn’t want me to know? And below that: 4 sugar 4 cream And below that: figures he has a sweet tooth. As he glanced up to ask Iris to continue, he was surprised to see her handing him a sheet of paper. She sighed quietly to herself as he took it from her.

 

“It’s… not terribly exciting, most of it. There’s a part toward the bottom that I wanted you to read. I stopped at the front desk on my way in and asked them if there were any way to duplicate it, and they were kind enough to make a copy. You can keep that one, if you like.”

 

“Much obliged,” he murmured, already having dived into the letter. The penmanship was unmistakably feminine but aggressive in a way, with hard pen strokes and jagged lines littering the script. Iris hadn’t been lying; the letter was hugely uninteresting, mostly detailing a few book titles and the recent lunch schedule. There were a few sentences toward the bottom that had been separated by a blank line and he squinted at them, struggling somewhat to decipher the sloppy handwriting:

 

Don’t think that I’ve forgotten what that sniveling coward did to me. I recently discovered that his beloved mentor was snuffed out, robbing me of my rightful revenge. If you run into him, do be sure to tell him that he…has never left my thoughts.

 

Edgeworth blinked at the words. “And you…believe that this is speaking of Phoenix Wright? It doesn’t mention any names.”

 

Predictably, Iris cringed a bit and returned to clutching at her broach. “I know it sounds crazy, but please, hear me out. My sister Dahlia is incredibly intelligent and crafty, and she holds grudges forever… I know it doesn’t mention him directly, but I’m certain that it’s him that she speaks of.” She reached across the massive desk and placed a hand over the prosecutor’s, interrupting his frantic notetaking and stilling his hand. Gray eyes met brown in shock and she gazed at him imploringly. “Please, I’m not even sure what it is you might be able to do, but,” goosebumps spread over the backs of his arms as her thumb absentmindedly trailed across his knuckles, “please just look out for him. Phoenix has a way of… well, stumbling into trouble.”

 

He bared with the contact for a moment more before he extracted his hand, uncomfortable. “You seem to care a great deal for him. How is it that you know him?”

 

A light blush crept across porcelain cheeks. “I’m afraid I can’t tell you that. At least, not now.” She looked away from him and focused on a faraway spot on the floor. “Phoenix sees only the good in people. I know if she were to try to contact him somehow, he would still believe in her, even after everything he’s been through. He may say otherwise, but Feenie, he’s an optimist until the end. It’s one of his best traits.”

 

Edgeworth flipped back to his first page of notes and found where he had annotated that she wanted their connection a secret. He circled the note and drew an arrow to the margin: Feenie!? Once he’d finished, he swept the notepad and pen aside and gazed back at Iris over steepled fingertips. He couldn’t exactly find any indication that she was speaking with him out of anything other than concern, though he still wasn’t entirely sure why this couldn’t have been dealt with through the police. Try as he might, he couldn’t find fault with her assessment of the man, either; Phoenix truly would die on an optimistic sword. It was one of his best—and worst—qualities, and what enabled him to be so effective in defending his clients.

 

Even ones who had attempted to steer him away from attempting the impossible, he mused.

 

Toying with the idea of offering some information about how he knew Dahlia Hawthorne, Edgeworth let out a small sigh through his nose and dropped his gaze, starting to sense that this would ultimately end up being a much larger puzzle to solve than simply a beautiful girl coming into his office to voice her concerns over an old friend…or lover. Still, if she were going to withhold just how intimately she truly knew his new paramour, he figured two could play at that game. “I suppose the only thing left, then, is how I might perhaps contact you again in the future, if need be?”

 

Iris blinked owlishly back at him. “Why on Earth would you need to do that?”

 

It was such an innocent question that Edgeworth nearly laughed at it, but contained himself at the last second. Gumshoe had told him once that people often felt insulted when he laughed at their questions and it gave him a “mean vibe, pal”. “Suppose something does happen. I may need more information from you. Do you have a telephone number where I could reach you?”

 

Her eyes fell a bit in thought before she frowned delicately. “Ah, no, not really.”

 

Internally, the prosecutor rolled his eyes. Playing hard to get, now?

 

“I…serve as a nun at the Hazakura Temple. Phones don’t really work up there very often, so we don’t use them. There’s a pay phone that can be used for emergencies, but I couldn’t tell you the last time someone actually tried it. I’m not even sure if it works.” She fished around a bit in a pocket in her robe and pulled out a piece of paper that had been folded many times to fit. It was passed to Edgeworth without fanfare. “I don’t leave the temple very often so I’m not sure I could give you an accurate address, but that is an ad that we’re running for a training session. I believe that you would be able to find us from it, should you need to.”

 

He unfolded the paper and scanned it with mild interest, noting that it must have come from a magazine of some sort. The ad depicted Iris and a shorter, much heavier woman wearing the same style of robes. At the bottom was a bit of text about a few training scenarios one could experience to “enhance their spiritual power and hone their medium acuity!” Underneath that in even smaller font was indeed an address where one could mail correspondence. He tried not to scoff at it and tucked it neatly away into the inside pocket on his suit jacket. “I think that about satisfies the information I might need, Miss Iris, if you have nothing else.” He hadn’t meant to make it sound so terse, but the young lady still flinched mildly at the tone.

 

“No, that’s all.” She stood and began to straighten her robes, finally bringing her hood up over her hair. As she turned to leave, Edgeworth cleared his throat, sensing that he should say something to lighten the mood, but unaccustomed to small talk. Curious eyes met his and he attempted to smile.

 

“I appreciate you bringing this to my attention. Wright does have a tendency to trip and fall into dangerous and complicated situations from time to time…” He dipped himself into a cordial bow. “I assure you that we’ll take great care in ensuring that he avoids any injurious situations as best we can.”

 

Iris smiled at him, warm and genuine. “Thank you, Mr. Edgeworth. I knew you were the right man for this.”

 

The prosecutor watched as she made her way to the door, robe flapping gracefully around her ankles. She closed the massive door behind her with a soft, polite click, and then she was gone. He shook his head at the strangeness of it all. In his world, there was no room for things such as spirit mediums and channeling the dead—it was all complete nonsense, as far as he was concerned. Even without adding in what had happened with his father and that medium who had made a mockery of the whole ordeal, he was a man of logic and science. In his eyes, the dead were dead. There was no coming back from that sort of finality.

 

And yet, they continued to work their way into his life like little tendrils of English ivy. First it was Maya Fey, then the little one, Pearl, and their ever loyal following of his rival. Now, it seemed, they had the audacity to simply invite themselves into his office. Still, this one seemed different from the others. He could spot a painful and mysterious past at a hundred paces—he had one himself, after all—and this girl definitely held more secrets than answers. He pulled the notepad back toward himself and tore the top page off. His notes weren’t exactly chaotic upon it, but he still found his eyes drawn to one spot in particular on the page.

 

Knows Wright? Doesn’t want me to know? Feenie!?

 

He cocked his head at the insinuation. On the one hand, the woman that Phoenix had described had absolutely matched what he would give as his own assessment of Dahlia Hawthorne. There was no mistaking that they were remembering the same cold, terrifying presence that she could bring to a room. Even on top of that, he’d never known Wright to lie to anyone, and Edgeworth would have seen right through it if he had. He had readily admitted to dating that devil woman, so what did this mean? Iris obviously knew the attorney and if her references were to be believed, she had been downright friendly with him… So why had he never mentioned her before?

 

He paused. Phoenix had never given him a name… Was Iris who he had drawn?

 

He folded the notepaper in half and paper clipped it to the magazine page that Iris had brought him, then tucked both pieces back into his inner suit jacket pocket where he would deal with them later. There were simply too many holes to begin an earnest attempt of connecting the dots, and that’s assuming that her prediction had any merit to it to begin with. Before returning to his original task at hand, however, Edgeworth paused and snagged a sticky note from his desk drawer before he forgot. Upon it, he jotted down, Look up Hawthorne’s sentencing/parole, and adhered it neatly to his desk blotter in front of his laptop. No sense in being careless.

 

Glancing around at his office to ensure no more surprises were lurking in the corners, the prosecutor finally returned to his original mission and reopened the old case file that had patiently waited for him. Looking back and forth between Phoenix’s thousand-watt smile and the gentle, quiet curve of Dahlia’s lips, Edgeworth shook his head. He couldn’t make sense of it; they were too different. Just as he rifled through to the last profile page and turned them over as one grouping so as to access the actual court record, his cell phone jingled in his pocket, startling him near to death for the second time that day.

 

He fought the urge to hurl it at the wall.

 

After a few deep breaths and a slow countdown from ten, Edgeworth fished the device out of his pocket and glared at it.

 

It was a text from Wright.

 

He could feel his ire evaporate instantly, replaced by the sensation of butterflies in the pit of his belly. Rolling his eyes at himself, he unlocked the phone and opened the message, wondering if perhaps the man were interested in dinner.

 

Going off the grid for a few days, some training thing Maya wants to do at Hazakura. Dinner Friday if I don’t freeze to death?

 

Edgeworth blinked at the message slowly, forcing himself to breathe. After a few long moments and several attempts at a response that were deleted and started anew, he responded:

 

Let me know when you’re back. Be careful, Wright.

Chapter 12: Chapter 12

Phoenix could already feel his teeth chattering and they were only two thirds of the way there. Irritable, he tugged tighter at his pea coat, lamenting the fact that he had nothing thicker to protect him from the chill that was already biting at him. Despite the fact that the Los Angeles weather never dipped far enough to necessitate a proper winter jacket, he supposed he might have to invest in one if this sort of training would gain any sort of regularity with Maya now that she was approaching her duties as Kurain master in a new light. He wondered briefly where he might even find one.

 

Beside him, Pearl’s head wobbled, weighed down by the onslaught of slumber. He chuckled to himself, knowing that she would inevitably fall victim to the low rumble and gentle swaying of the bus. The train they had originally boarded could only take them so far; at around the halfway point, they had stopped and switched over to a local shuttle bus that was vastly more capable of navigating the twisting maze up the mountain. The train had been quiet and smooth, but once they’d switched vehicles, Pearl had fought snoozing ever since. On her lap she clutched protectively around the little knapsack that contained the remnants of her lunch for the day. He smiled fondly at her and reached over, gently tipping her into his side so that she could at least enjoy a small nap before they arrived. He wagered she’d need it. Maya sat impatiently behind him, nose glued to the glass of the window, her own lunch tossed carelessly aside.

 

Outside, a vast expanse of mountains and evergreen trees whizzed past them. Phoenix could spot some snowcapped mountains in the distance and if he squinted hard enough, he thought he could just barely pick out a little cozy temple that flickered as the tops of the trees zoomed past. Truth be told, he’d rather be almost anywhere else, as he still wasn’t entirely certain why anyone would voluntarily subject themselves to such freezing temperatures and isolation, but as usual, he’d found himself helpless against the pleading gazes of the two young women who had permanently infiltrated his life. He’d be damned if he’d participate in anything outside of sitting in front of the fire, though, that much was certain.

 

His thoughts drifted back to Edgeworth, as they’d done thousands of times since the man had stayed in his modest apartment. As the days had passed, the idea of being with a man had become less strange to him, particularly after he had gained such…pleasant memories of spending time with the prosecutor. Even so, he was grateful that the other man seemed content to take the lead while Phoenix busied himself with figuring out what it all meant. He was truly comforted by Edgeworth’s consistent reassurance that he wouldn’t vanish again, even if he felt a little bad about making the man tell him over and over again. He hadn’t exactly expected to be the first one to need to leave for a few days and his thoughts flitted back to the brief response he’d gotten.

 

Be careful, Wright.

 

Was that his way of saying he’d miss him? He leaned his head against the window, wincing at the harsh chill that met his forehead. Admittedly, Phoenix knew outright that he would likely be the romantic of the two. Expecting affectionate messages and long walks on the beach was simply setting himself up for disappointment, insofar as he knew his new partner. Even so, he hadn’t quite expected the prosecutor’s response to be quite so…ominous. Given their destination and his limited knowledge of temples, he’d left his phone at home since he figured it wouldn’t work where he was going, but… He still sort of wished he’d brought it with him if only to have something to fiddle with and read through while Maya and Pearl were occupied.

 

He wondered what the other man was up to now. Was he investigating his new case? The thought brought a grin to his lips. Edgeworth turned into an entirely different person when he was investigating a case. It was almost fun to watch the gears and cogs turning behind those stormy grey eyes. The prosecutor was called a genius for good reason; the other attorney had an uncanny knack for slowly and methodically piecing together even the wildest of goose chases to come to a logical conclusion. It was extraordinarily impressive no matter how many times he got to see it happen. Then again, Phoenix supposed that now that he was gaining some notoriety, the same had been said about him from time to time, but… it just never seemed as cool when he did it as when Edgeworth delivered his precise and perfect assessments.

 

He could feel his eyelids growing heavy and for once, he actually indulged the sensation, tempted to sneak in a cat nap, himself, before they arrived. As his eyes closed he could see his lover perched behind his imposing desk, scowling away at the evidence list, oblivious to the outside world. Phoenix had only been in the prosecutor’s office a few times, but he could remember most of it relatively clearly. A blush crept to his cheeks as he allowed his thoughts to drift. Would he be able to convince Edgeworth to sneak in a little tête-à-tête on that plush couch of his someday?

 

As Phoenix’s thoughts meandered further into the dangerous territory of just how soundproof is that room? and I wonder if I could fit under that desk…the bus screeched to an alarming halt, startling all three of them and sending Maya’s lunch flying. Beside him, Pearl pawed at her eyes and yawned. A glance outside showed him that they had arrived at a quaint little outdoor bus stop, such as it was, though all it boasted was a worn wooden bench and an old lamppost. The bus driver called out in a harsh voice, announcing their arrival, which elicited a sharp cheer from Maya.

 

“We’re here, Nick!”

 

“I see that… How far is the temple from here?”

 

The bus driver grunted and cut in. “’Bout a quarter mile walk from here down that little trail there, mister. Seems like it’s brewin’ up one hell of a storm, hope you brought your snow shoes.”

 

Phoenix squinted out the window in an attempt to locate said little trail, but all he could see were snow-covered trees. It had indeed begun to flurry outside, much to the delight of the girls. He groaned. “What little trail?”

 

The driver sighed irritably. “Come here, mister.” When Phoenix navigated to the front of the bus, the driver opened the door and pointed out at the tree line where the barest split could be seen between two imposing pines. “See that, there? That’ll take you all the way to the temple’s entrance. Buncha wackos at that joint if ya ask me, but hey, it’s your funeral, pal. Watch your step when you get off. Fare is included in the training cost, so we’re square. Good luck.”

 

Phoenix shook the driver’s meaty, calloused hand, but couldn’t quite miss the dirty look that Maya tossed him over his comments about the temple staff. He suppressed a grin. It wouldn’t exactly be supportive or polite if he let it slip that he agreed.

 

Once out of the protective walls of the bus, Phoenix was stunned at how much worse the weather actually was. It felt as though the wind cut him straight through to the bone and he shivered violently, slinging his messenger bag across his body and shoving his hands as far down into his pockets as he could get them. Maya and Pearl were seemingly unaffected by the harsh environment, enveloped instead by a protective bubble of their own excitement. The two mediums bounded toward the trail entrance, beside themselves in anticipation. Phoenix sighed to himself and trudged after them, resigned to his fate.

 

The walk was actually not as terrible as he’d expected, with the dense woods serving as a surprisingly effective shield from the wind and snow that howled above the canopy. Maya gushed about it during most of the rest of their hike, apparently pleased with how perfect the conditions were for her training. Phoenix watched them in amusement, still confused as to just how the cold properly affected their ability to channel the dead and wondering if there weren’t some other channeling clan who preferred to do their thing under palm trees with cocktails in their hands. Despite his frequent teasing and complaints, however, he was happy for the two. It had been a while since he’d seen smiles so big on either one of them.

 

Soon enough, they arrived at the temple. Maya, and especially Pearl, seemed completely awestruck by the building that loomed over them, and even Phoenix found himself gazing at the exotic architecture and ancient signs that peppered the entrance. Standing front and center underneath the welcoming archway was a short white blob that the defense attorney was soon surprised to discover…was a human being. As they approached, the blob woman exploded into a raucous, warm laughter and threw her stubby arms wide, beckoning them forth.

 

“Right on time, right on time! Come! Welcome to Hazakura, all of you!” Her jowls bounced along with her ha ha haing and despite how jarring it was, Phoenix found himself tempted to laugh along. The woman’s energy was positively infectious. “I take it you two young ladies were the ones who sent in the application for training?”

 

Maya bounced on the balls of her feet for a moment before falling into a deep bow. “Yes, ma’am! My name is Maya Fey, and this here is my little cousin, Pearl Fey. We’re very excited to be here!”

 

“Ah, my goodness, two of the Fey clan, you say?” The woman’s round face shifted into exaggerated surprise for a moment before it exploded into another series of ha ha has. “Tremendous! What an honor! Come! Let us get out of the cold and into the hall where we can discuss your training! But wait, who is this that you’ve brought with you?” The nun shuffled toward Phoenix, seemingly putting in a great deal of effort to move quickly despite not gaining very much distance at all. Soon enough, she peered up at him appraisingly and he compulsively rubbed at the back of his neck, self-conscious.

 

“Phoenix Wright, attorney at law. Pleasure to meet you, ma’am. I’m simply here as an escort.”

 

To his surprise, the woman shifted her weight to one hip and struck what would have been a dramatically seductive pose, were she any other shape but that of a liquidy square. Before he could ask, Phoenix watched with increasing discomfort as the nun then batted her eyes cartoonishly at him, fluffing non-existant hair next to her hood. “Well, I say, it’s been quite some time since we’ve seen someone as handsome as you around here, toots…”

 

Phoenix turned scarlet, much to the delight of Maya and the irritation of Pearls, who began rolling up her sleeve.

 

“A bit young for me, I’m afraid, but that still leaves Sister Iris a chance…” Apparently pleased with herself, the woman bounced through another set of boisterous laughter before smiling brightly at all three of them. “You may all call me Sister Bikini, named for my famous bikini body! Now come! It’s nearly dinner time already!”

 

Bikini body…? Phoenix grimaced and eyed the nun as she waddled awkwardly in front of the group, clutching gently at her lower back. The image of a peeled potato in a small bikini popped into his mind and he shook his head violently, feeling rude even if he hadn’t voiced his opinion. Admittedly, he was a bit curious about this Sister Iris that Bikini had mentioned, but only by virtue of comparison… If this was someone that felt comfortable so blatantly flirting with him, what sort of person was she endorsing? For all his luck, it might end up being Bikini’s twin sister, Tankini, trying for the two-for-one special… he shuddered. It was going to be a long three days.

 

The main hall was cozy and warm and smelled of old mahogany and incense. Phoenix shivered and rubbed at his arms, trying desperately to finally shake the pervasive cold that had overtaken his body as he glanced around at his surroundings. Unlike Kurain Village, where the décor was ornate and stunning in its presence, this temple seemed almost…forgotten. A thick layer of dust covered everything above eye level, although there weren’t many decorations on the walls, anyway. The massive table that sat in the center was worn by many, many years of hands and elbows polishing its surface. The carpet and zabuton set underneath it were threadbare and falling apart in spots, though many tears and holes had obviously been mended over the years as well. Phoenix smiled at the site; it almost added some authenticity to the experience, for once.

 

The table was positively littered with various side dishes all centered around a peculiar absence—Phoenix assumed for the main course that had yet to be placed—and he stared, wondering just how many people they were expecting for that evening. The stoneware upon the table held everything from steamed vegetables to ramen to pot stickers, filled to overflowing in their serving bowls. Phoenix was quite certain that the side dishes alone would be plenty of food for them, much less once the main course was added, and suddenly he felt silly for insisting that they all pack sandwiches and cut veggies for lunch. Just as he was about to ask Sister Bikini about the spread, a voice came from behind him:

 

“Quite the display, isn’t it? I was just as surprised my first evening here.” The voice was quiet and smooth and serene, like ripples on a placid lake under a full moon. Phoenix turned toward it and was surprised to find a tall, matronly figure with raven black hair and a broad, tired smile. “They cook for the week, here. What you see before you will last them for the next seven days, and then they will move on to the next meal.”

 

“Ah, that makes sense, though Maya alone could probably knock at least one day’s worth of food off, herself…” He smiled impulsively at the thought, always impressed at how much food the young woman could pack away into such a small frame. He held out a hand. “Phoenix Wright, attorney at law and Maya’s handler. It’s a pleasure, miss…?”

 

The hand that took his was cold and feather-light, grasping just delicately enough to make its presence known before it vanished again. “Elise Deauxnim, charmed. And your two associates?”

 

“Ah, those two would be Maya and Pearl Fey. They came for the training, though I’m a little afraid they might never leave now that they’ve seen the dinner…” He shifted his gaze over to where Maya had leaned over the enormous spread of food, eyes gleaming in a predatory stare. Just behind her, an unknown nun emerged from a swinging door carrying a serving platter upon which sat an enormous roast. Phoenix locked eyes with the young lady for the briefest of moments, but what he saw sent lightning down his spine. “It can’t be,” he caught himself whispering to himself in shock, completely forgetting that he had just been engaged in conversation.

 

Fortunately, the woman next to him seemed unphased by his rudeness and pressed on, her tone curious. “Maya and Pearl Fey… of the Kurain Village Feys?”

 

The specificity snapped him out of his surprise. “Actually, yes,” he turned back toward her, “you’ve heard of them?”

 

The mysterious woman regarded him for a second, and he was immediately reminded of the way Chief Gant used to stare through him while he was preparing his next carefully-constructed set of lies. Before he could assess her, however, the woman smiled warmly at him and dipped her head in a gentle nod. “I’ve read about them in a few articles before. If memory serves, you are the lawyer who helped them out in their travels.”

 

“That’s right,” he heard himself saying, but he was overwhelmed with the impression that this woman was not who she said she was, nor was that how she knew of the Feys. Furthermore, he was still hugely unaccustomed to people having heard of him before and the sensation made him feel more than a little awkward. Was this how Edgeworth felt when he met people? As famous as he was, he supposed it wouldn’t be unheard of for people to have studied him ahead of time… He cleared his throat. “They’re sort of like close friends or little sisters now, though, instead of just clients, I guess. Maya also works as a sort of paralegal for me when she isn’t training at temples like this.”

 

Before she could answer him, a delighted gasp rang out close to them and Phoenix glanced down at the source. Pearl gazed up at the two of them, seemingly star-struck. After a moment, her eyes slid over toward the mystery woman named Elise Deauxnim and her hand covered her mouth, the least she could do to contain herself. Phoenix chuckled at her. “What’s up, Pearls?”

 

“Mr. Nick!” She gasped the words out, struggling to keep herself under control. “Do you not recognize who this is? This is—that is, she’s—oh my goodness!” The tiny spirit medium’s face flushed crimson and she pressed both hands to her cheeks, bashful and giggling. Phoenix glanced back up toward this conversation partner, desperately seeking clarification, and was relieved to find her laughing quietly at Pearl’s little outburst.

 

“As I mentioned before, my name is Elise Deauxnim. I’ve been a children’s book illustrator for some time now. It would appear as though I have a devoted fan.” Phoenix watched as the woman crouched low to look Pearl in the eye, apparently enjoying the smaller medium’s antics. “I’m told your name is Pearl Fey, is that right?”

 

Pearl gasped at her. It was all she could do to nod her head up and down.

 

“Well, Pearl, would you like to maybe read some books with me after dinner? I have some free time and I’d be happy to spend it with you, if you like.”

 

Phoenix half expected Pearl to outright faint at the opportunity. Truth be told, he was glad for the woman’s offer, as Maya would already be in training at that point and he wasn’t quite sure he knew what to do with a kid Pearl’s age for hours on end. Desperately, Pearl clutched at his pant legs and stared imploringly at him, eyes watery from the surge of emotions she was enduring. “Please, Mr. Nick, may I?”

 

He couldn’t help himself. He laughed out loud at the sheer need in her voice, as if she were being offered an all-expenses-paid cruise around the world and not simply a few hours to spend reading children’s books. He toyed with the idea of teasing her just a little bit, but the more he glanced between the two of them, the more he could feel his heart smile and he sighed, at least committed to not completely folding. “Well, I was going to ask you for help reviewing a new case law regarding probation violations, but I guess her offer sounds a lot more fun…”

 

Pearl threw a fist in the air and cheered at him. Just then, a tremendous sound rang out over the table, as if someone had hit a gong several times in succession right behind them. Phoenix whirled and saw Sister Bikini vigorously ringing a massive brass bell that was mounted to the wall next to the entrance, trying in earnest to call out to them over the enormous clamor she was creating. The defense attorney clutched uselessly at his ears and stared at the nun incredulously, relieved when she finally stopped and clapped her hands together in satisfaction. “Alright, you lot,” she placed her hands on her hips and puffed her chest out like a robin, “dinner is served! Bone appetite!”

 

Pretty sure that’s “bon appétite”… Phoenix shook his head at her and chuckled to himself, marveling at how spirit mediums always seemed to make things wholesomely weird without even trying. Pearl, Ms. Deauxnim, and Sister Bikini all took up seats on the far side of the table, so Phoenix and Maya knelt on the cushions opposite them, enjoying the heat from the roaring fire at their backs. Just as Sister Bikini reached for the carving knife and fork to start taking apart the roast, the other nun—the one Phoenix had noticed earlier—emerged from what he imagined must have been the kitchen. He cautiously watched out of the corner of his eye as she paused in her approach to the table, seemed to consider something, then pressed on slowly, as if resigned to the situation.

 

He realized moments later as she delicately placed herself upon the zabuton next to his that she had likely paused to look for another seat, as the one she had just taken was the only one left. Curious. What was it about him that would make her not want to sit next to him? His memory flashed back to the wide, doe-like eyes that had met his own earlier that evening and he blinked, nearly certain now that he had imagined it. There was simply no way.

 

As Sister Bikini carved away at the roast, Phoenix tried desperately to catch another glimpse of the nun next to him, but to no avail. The hood that encased her head was just too large for him to peek around it at her face. Still, he was here for at least another two days, so it wasn’t like he had to find out who she was right this second… He jumped, startled out of his thoughts, as Sister Bikini rapped the carving fork rapidly against her water glass. “Alright, everyone! Bow your heads for the evening prayer before we get started!”

 

Obediently, each head at the table tilted, the participants silent.

 

Sister Bikini took a single, solemn breath and brought her hands together, bowing her own head in quiet reverence. Phoenix had never heard of any of the Kurain mediums saying a prayer over their meal before and he was interested to hear it, though he wasn’t sure if it had been omitted in his experience because it didn’t typically exist, or because Maya was too motivated for burgers to wait any longer than she had to… He snuck a peak up at the feisty, fun-sized nun and waited with bated breath to hear what she had to say.

 

“Bless the meat, damn the skin—open your kissers and cram it in! Wah ha ha ha ha!”

 

Distantly, he could hear the celebratory cheers emanating from Maya and Pearl, but he was too overwhelmed with dejected surprise to join them. What the hell kind of prayer was that?!  Sighing deeply and shaking his head, he reached out for a bowl of what appeared to be onigiri…and bumped knuckles with the mysterious girl sitting next to him. In their shock, they turned to each other with an apology, and froze.

 

Staring back at him was undoubtedly and inarguably the face of his ex-girlfriend, Dahlia Hawthorne, but also somehow not. Even with most of her head obscured by the thick white fabric of the hood she wore, Phoenix could have (and had, he realized) drawn each individual feature from perfect memory, having seen the delicate brows and long eyelashes and soft dimples countless times in his dreams…and nightmares. He knew that he was openly gawking at her but couldn’t seem to shake himself free from the clutches of memories he thought long dead to him by now. The young lady blushed a bit and retracted her hand, staring hard at the table. “My apologies, Mr. Wright, please go ahead.”

 

Trying to snap himself out of it, Phoenix reached for the bowl once more as directed. It was only after he had made his selection and returned it to the table, searching for his next side dish, that what she had said came rolling back through his thoughts like a pervasive fog. His hand hovered over a platter that was covered in roasted vegetables and he glanced back toward her, somewhat unsurprised when she abruptly averted her eyes. She’d been staring at him. “How…how do you know who I am?”

 

The din of conversation around them seemed to fade away as he gazed at her, focused only on the two of them. The mystery surrounding her resemblance to his ex-girlfriend had tripled upon her quiet apology to him and he was now hyper-focused on getting to the bottom of it, even if it meant that his food was actively growing colder by the second.

 

Gentle—but fake, he noticed—surprise washed over her features and she paused in buttering a slice of bread to look back at him. “What do you mean?”

 

He shook his head at her, perplexed. “I never told you my name.”

 

A hint of fear crept into her gaze as she realized her mistake. Just as she was about to try and salvage the situation, however, Phoenix felt a sharp elbow in his ribs. Flinching and clutching at his side, he turned to glare at Maya, who was chewing aggressively at a chunk of pot roast and staring him down with narrowed eyes.

 

“What was that for?”

 

“If you stare at that nun any harder, Pearl is going to have an apoplexy, Nick.” Maya motioned over her shoulder at the younger medium who was indeed staring Phoenix down with pure, unadulterated murder in her eyes. Phoenix reeled backward and placed his hands up in a sign of surrender, knowing full well that he was dangerously close to crossing The Line as far as Pearl’s temper was concerned. He wasn’t quite sure where Maya’s younger cousin had come up with the idea of Maya and him being together happily ever after, but she was unwaveringly devoted to the idea and would tolerate nothing else that challenged the concept. Phoenix felt his heart suddenly drop into his shoes. How, exactly, was he going to explain what was going on between him and Edgeworth? The thought had never even occurred to him.

 

He leaned over toward Maya but kept his eyes on Pearl, keeping his palms toward her from across the table as he whispered to his friend. “I’m sorry, but I swear I’ve seen this girl somewhere before. She even knows my name even though I never introduced myself!”

 

“Huh, that’s pretty odd,” Maya said in a completely normal speaking voice around a mouthful of mashed potatoes, much to the defense attorney’s dismay. His head whipped to the side to see if said nun had overheard them discussing her, but he was immensely surprised to see that at some point, she had vanished entirely, small portions of food on her plate left entirely untouched.

 

Glancing back toward Pearl, he noted with a small amount of relief that she had resumed eating in between spurts of talking Ms. Deauxnim’s ear off. Must have scared her off with that spooky glare of hers… Good going, Pearls.

 

Resolving to get to the bottom of things after dinner, Phoenix sighed and started in on his own plate. It would figure, he mused, that no matter where he went, trouble always seemed to find him.

Chapter 13: Chapter 13

“…yes, sir, that’s correct. It’s approximately $200.00 for the tuning, and the repair costs would need to be assessed in person.”

 

“How soon can you have it done?”

 

“Our business hours are—”

 

“I didn’t ask what your business hours are. What is your soonest appointment?”

 

“Ah—of course—let me see… Friday, at 10am. We would be able to complete the tuning at that time, provided the damage to the instrument does not prevent it from being done. We would need to schedule a second appointment for the repairs.”

 

Edgeworth frowned. Keeping this a surprise would be much more difficult than anticipated, but not impossible. “That’s fine.” He made a mental note to come up with a reason for Wright to leave his office Friday morning and wondered how he might convince the man to leave it unlocked… He supposed if he were lucky enough, Maya would return from the temple with him. She was always up for a good conspiracy. Working back from memory of having been to the attorney’s apartment not long ago, he offered the address to the voice over the phone, committing to the appointment even if the details weren’t entirely rock solid quite yet. Just as they were preparing to read the information back to him, a gentle beep beep beep over the line indicated to him that he had a call waiting. “I’m sorry, would you excuse me for one moment? I seem to have a call on the other line.”

 

“Of course, sir.”

 

He pulled his phone away from his ear and noted with no small amount of surprise that it was none other than Larry Butz trying to get a hold of him. He declined the call without a second thought and returned to his conversation, confirming the address and appointment time—

 

Beep beep beep. 

 

Beep beep beep.

 

He declined the call again, though a microscopic spark of curiosity bubbled up within him. Larry had never called him back to back before.

 

“We’ll need you to be there to supervise throughout the appointment, of course,” the voice warbled on, “it should take approximately sixty to ninety minutes of your time.”

 

“I may not be present, but I should be able to send someone in my stead.”

 

Beep beep beep.

 

Beep beep beep.

 

Edgeworth squinted at his phone in disbelief. Three back-to-back calls at…he glanced at his watch. Seven-thirty in the morning? Fortunately, they had covered just about everything they had needed to cover in order to confirm their appointment details, and so he bid a hasty goodbye to the associate on the phone. Curiosity was dangerously close to transitioning into full-blown concern, but he bullied it back in favor of irritation. The odds of Larry calling him for anything other than to irritate him, even in such an insistent manner, were far more likely than any sort of actual emergency. Still… He took a deep breath and answered his call this time, hoping that he was prepared for whatever it was the other man wanted from him.

 

“What is it, Larry, I’m quite busy—“

 

The voice that screamed into the phone was panicked, words slurring together in a frenzied rush to get them all out at once. Edgeworth winced and pulled the phone a few inches away from his ear, irritation immediately forgotten.

 

“Larry, slow down, I can’t understand y—“

 

“It’s Nick, Edgey! He’s in the hospital! He might already be dead!”

 

“W-WHAT? What in the world are you talking about!?” A cold sweat settled over him and he crushed the phone to his ear, straining to hear the other man’s voice now, praying that this was a practical joke.

 

“Look, man, it’s a long story, and there’s no time to tell it to you. Nick ran across a burning bridge and fell like a million feet, and now he’s in the hospital, and you need to be there YESTERDAY!”

 

The prosecutor stared blankly ahead of him, processing this new information. He ran across a burning bridge? What sort of training were they up to!? Despite Larry rambling on in the background, Edgeworth hung up the call and rushed to his jacket, intent on getting to the bottom of things. If Wright really were in that much danger, he wasn’t about to waste a single second getting to him. Childishly, he embraced the impudent anger that rose within him, far more comfortable to deal with than the knifelike ache of worry, at the concept of losing Phoenix so soon after he had just gotten the opportunity to have him all to himself…

 

Toying with the idea of driving himself, he instead pulled his phone back out of his pocket, navigating to Detective Gumshoe’s number and stabbing at the call button while he rushed down the stairs two at a time. His heart was pounding harder than he could ever remember, and while distantly he still hoped that this was some sort of cruel prank thought of by his two childhood friends, he wasn’t about to risk it. He snarled in frustration as the phone continued to ring and he cursed at it, the words echoing throughout the stairwell.

 

At long last, Gumshoe answered. “Gumshoe here—“

 

“Finally! Honestly, detective, this is why your salary keeps getting cut!”

 

The voice on the other end was more confused than hurt, but a bit of the detective’s pout made its way through. “Sir?”

 

“Be outside the precinct in four minutes in a marked vehicle. We need to get to the hospital right now.”

 

Without waiting for a response, Edgeworth cut the call off and continued to run down the stairs. Terrible images began to flutter across his thoughts at the prospect of what a person might look like after falling from a burning bridge and he gnawed at his bottom lip, tunnel vision honing in on the stairs ahead of him. He tried instead to focus on Phoenix’s bright smile or the gentle dip in one of his collarbones or the way his hands flexed on the defense desk in the courtroom, but each image ultimately produced a terrifying alternative of charred flesh and broken bones.

 

His heart was in his throat as he burst out of the rear exit to the building, turning sharply toward the police headquarters which was thankfully on the next block over. Distantly he could hear the slap of his shoelaces against the pavement indicating that at least one of his shoes had come untied in the face of his unanticipated athletics but he pushed on, dodging around the herd of people at the crosswalk who were lazily beginning their stroll across the street. Thankfully, Detective Gumshoe had obeyed his abrupt order, as Edgeworth spied him up ahead standing next to a running cruiser and rubbing his head.

 

When he was within yelling distance, the prosecutor called out to him. “In! Drive!”

 

The detective sputtered for half a second but ripped open the driver’s side door even as Edgeworth clambered into the passenger seat, winded and disheveled. Thankfully, Gumshoe seemed to take the hint that time was of the essence and flipped on the lights and siren, carving through the city traffic like a hot knife through butter as a result. The car danced awkwardly through the otherwise congested traffic and as the two made their way toward the emergency department, Edgeworth finally took a moment to suck in a deep, shuddering breath.

 

“Mr. Edgeworth, sir, what in the world is going on? Are you alright!?” Gumshoe’s voice was strikingly similar to how Larry’s had sounded over the phone.

 

The prosecutor tapped his fingertips against his knees impatiently, unable to fully ignore how sticky he felt from sprinting all the way there, and as he spoke, his words came punctuated by gasps for air. “There’s been an incident of some sort,” gasp, “Wright fell off of a burning bridge,” gasp, “and apparently is in quite a terrible state.”

 

“A…a burning what!? Where is there even a bridge that can burn around here?”

 

Tires screeched around a corner. Edgeworth could see the hospital up ahead. “Dusky bridge, I would imagine,” he finally took a moment to truly begin composing himself, minutely comforted by the presence of the glowing red cross that cut through the smog hovering over the city. He ran a shaking hand back through his bangs that had become plastered to his forehead and closed his eyes, forcing himself to take deep breaths. It would help no one if he could barely explain himself. “He took the Fey girls to Hazakura Temple for training of some sort. I don’t really have many details.”

 

“Geeze, that guy seems to have even worse luck than I do… I’ll drop you off up front. Let me know when you need to leave.” The detective whipped the cruiser into the fire lane directly outside of the emergency room doors and cut the siren, leaving only the red and blue alternating lights to paint a terrible picture upon the glass of the hospital lobby doors.

 

Edgeworth exited with haste and stormed up to the entrance, nearly barging into the automatic doors as they crawled aside for him and he glared at them poisonously before rushing to the receiving desk. A young woman who looked scarcely older than eighteen regarded him coolly. “Name?”

 

“I’m here to see a man named Phoenix Wright. I’m told he was brought here sometime overnight after he fell from a burning bridge.”

 

The girl snapped her chewing gum and eyed him suspiciously before typing away on her keyboard. He stared at her impatiently. “Are you family?”

 

He nearly rolled his eyes, frustrated with the bureaucracy. “We’re—“ he bit down on the next word, wondering exactly what they were now. Even so, he didn’t exactly feel inspired to announce that they were dating or lovers or anything of the sort in such a public venue. “We’re partners.” Great job, Miles, that’s practically the same thing…

 

If the girl caught on to his anxiety, she didn’t show it. After a few more agonizingly long seconds of typing information into her computer, she nodded to herself and then snagged a clipboard from a stack of them sitting next to her. As it was handed to him, Edgeworth glared at it, then at her. She was unaffected. “Gonna need you to fill that out and hand it back to me with a valid I.D. Once you’ve completed that, you’ll be able to go back and see him. It looks like he was moved to the ICU a few hours ago.”

 

Relief washed over his body like a tidal wave. If he was moved to the ICU, that meant he probably wouldn’t die, at least. Still, he stared down at the clipboard in his hands and tried not to lose his temper. It wasn’t exactly like he had hours of time to waste. Fishing his wallet out of his back pocket, he popped the bifold open to reveal a polished brass shield and turned it toward the girl. “I appreciate the information, but can we skip the formalities, miss? I’m afraid I’m a bit pressed for time.”

 

A flicker of surprise wafted across the young lady’s face before she shrugged and reached out for the clipboard. In its stead, she handed him a laminated visitor’s pass hung from a lanyard that boasted the hospital’s name. “Take the elevator over there to the second floor and it’ll be the fourth room on the left.”

 

He cringed internally but nodded to her, declining to hang the lanyard around his neck unless he really needed to. A glance around the room showed no obvious signs of there being any stairs available and he grumbled to himself. An elevator for one whole floor… Steeling himself, he approached the offensive machine in question, trying to mask his mounting anxiety by looking as casual as possible. It was only one floor, he mused to himself. How bad could it be? As the seconds of waiting ticked by, however, he felt his fingers begin to tremble in anticipation and he shoved them into his pockets, irritated with himself at being unable to shake such an irrational fear.

 

Finally the doors split open and he waited patiently for the few occupants to spill out before stepping into the blissfully empty box. He first pressed the “2” button and then compulsively stabbed at the “close door” button probably five or six times before chiding himself and placing his hand back into his pocket, flat against his thigh. In his other hand, the visitor’s badge provided a convenient tension relief and as the doors shut, he twiddled fastidiously with the swivel loop to which the lanyard was clipped. The lurch of the elevator rising caught him off-guard and he swallowed his nausea, unable to stop himself from swaying until he leaned against the wall. It’s only one floor, Miles. You’ll be fine.

 

As soon as it had begun, it was over with, and he nearly ran out of the unusually spacious elevator as soon as the doors had begun to give way. A few nurses that had gathered in the hallway peered curiously at him for a moment and then returned to their business, unconcerned. Shuddering a bit to shake off the enormity of the last twenty minutes, he counted off the doors ahead of him and made straight for the room the girl in the emergency department had indicated.

 

He wasn’t entirely prepared for what he’d walk in on.

 

Phoenix Wright was reclined in his hospital bed, surrounded by machines of all sorts. An IV line hung indelicately from a bag that was two-thirds full of saline and dripping rapidly, feeding the fluid down and into the back of the attorney’s hand that lay limp on top of the sheets. His eyes were closed and there was a sheen of perspiration from his hairline down that was visible even from the doorway where Edgeworth stood, unable to move. A hideous bruise that began somewhere in the man’s thick black hair had traveled down over his eyebrow and temple, mottling the flesh in terrible hues of purple, green, and yellow. The prosecutor frowned, wondering what other injuries the man had sustained.

 

As he approached, he could see that the defense attorney’s chest was rising and falling in rhythmic, peaceful slumber and he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Beside him was the man’s beaten leather messenger bag, stuffed unusually full, waiting faithfully should its contents need to be accessed. A plastic cup of water was sat beside it oozing condensation from the ice within that was rapidly melting. Edgeworth quickly located a chair and dragged it to the man’s bedside before sitting in it, unable to fully rid himself of the tension he felt even now that he could physically see that the other man was alive. Upon closer inspection, Phoenix was actively shivering even in his sleep, and the prosecutor found himself unable to resist reaching out and pulling the blankets up over the attorney’s body, feeling unusually protective.

 

Unexpectedly, the man stirred and opened his eyes just wide enough that Edgeworth could see that they were largely unfocused. A weak, inquisitive noise escaped from the brunette, causing the prosecutor’s pounding heart to sink. “It’s me, Wright. It’s Edg—it’s Miles.”

 

Blue eyes rolled haphazardly before Phoenix’s face scrunched in on itself, taut with the effort of waking up. At long last, the injured man finally relaxed a bit and opened his eyes anew, focused properly on his guest. “You came.”

 

“Of course I came. Larry called half an hour ago and told me what happened. Well, sort of. What in the world were you thinking?” It was all he could do to keep his voice quiet, much less calm.

 

A weak laugh bubbled out of the other man as he closed his eyes and rolled his head away from Edgeworth so that it was resting square on the pillow. “You should know,” he took a deep, shuddering breath that sounded as though it were sucked through a drinking straw, “that I don’t do a lot of that under pressure.”

 

Despite the seriousness of the situation, the prosecutor found himself chuckling at the remark. “You’ll live, then, I imagine?”

 

Phoenix sucked in another long, labored breath that turned into a series of phlegmy coughs that wracked his body. Edgeworth winced. When the attorney finally settled, the prosecutor reached for the cup of water and held it out to his partner so that the straw would reach him. Phoenix sipped hungrily at it for some time. After draining most of the cup, he settled back against the pillow, exhausted. “Few bumps and bruises, fever, bad cold. Docs say I should be alright with some bed rest.”

 

“That bridge must be a fifty foot drop into the river, Wright. You escaped with only a ‘few bumps and bruises’?”

 

Even as sick as he was, Phoenix couldn’t help but smile. “Guess luck was on my side.”

 

Edgeworth snorted. “I’ll say. You’re the luckiest unlucky man I know…” He found himself wanting to reach out and hold the other man’s hand and, for once, indulged the urge. The attorney’s hand was ice-like, prompting a frown from the prosecutor as he reached out with his other hand to rub at the chilly flesh. “What really happened?”

 

“Maya…” Phoenix grimaced and swallowed hard, fighting against what felt like sandpaper in his throat. “Something’s happened to Maya. There was a murder. She’s trapped…” Another series of coughs rippled through him and his body curled with the effort, each cough bringing forth a violent spasm and a gasp for oxygen. “I couldn’t…couldn’t make it across. The bridge was on fire. I had to try anyway.”

 

Edgeworth leaned in toward his partner, trying desperately to hear him and to make sense of what he had to say, but it was immensely difficult. Between the near-whisper tone of the man’s voice and the actual words he was forcing out, he wasn’t making a great deal of sense. Lifting one of his hands away from Phoenix’s for a moment, he pressed the inside of his wrist to the attorney’s forehead, nearly recoiling at the burning hot temperature that answered his touch. With a fever this high, I’d be surprised if he even knew what he was saying, much less how much of it is true… “Phoenix…”

 

“Wait, Miles.” Blue eyes hazy with exhaustion and illness met with a gentle gray and held fast. “I need you to do something for me.”

 

“Anything,” he murmured, surprising himself.

 

“In my bag, there’s…there’s a folder. It has my notes in it. I need you to take it.” Phoenix’s eyelids were drooping threateningly, and Edgeworth was half expecting the man to fall asleep mid-sentence. “Read through it. You’ll need it.”

 

“I’ll… I’ll need it? What on Earth for?”

 

Phoenix weakly extracted his hand from Edgeworth’s and he reached over, searching delicately through one of the front pockets on his messenger bag. As he dug around, he continued, “the EMTs were kind enough to grab my things and put them in the ambulance for me, isn’t that neat?”

 

Edgeworth waited patiently until Phoenix apparently found what he was looking for, not wanting to risk further derailment by answering him. The brunette sagged against his pillow, spent from even that much effort, and pressed something small into the prosecutor’s waiting palm. Instead of pulling away, Phoenix then curled his fingers around Edgeworth’s closed fist and squeezed gently. “You’ll…need that, too.”

 

Even before he opened his hand, he had a sinking feeling that he knew what had just been handed to him. Staring down at the glinting pin, he shook his head. “You aren’t seriously suggesting—“

 

“There is no one else, Miles.” Phoenix waited until Edgeworth grudgingly slipped the pin into his pants pocket and placed his hand back on the bed, then laced his fingers with his lover’s. The contact was chaste and reassuring, even though the prosecutor was pretty sure it was he who was supposed to be comforting Phoenix… The defense attorney squeezed gently once more and smiled at him, warm and genuine even through the fever blazing throughout his body. “Once upon a time, you wanted to be a defense attorney. Now’s your chance. I know you can do it.”

 

“A young boy’s dreams that died long ago. I’m a prosecutor, Wright. A rather well-known one, might I add. Who in this city—in this entire county—is going to believe that I’m anything else?”

 

Phoenix chuckled and lifted Edgeworth’s hand, placing a gentle, fire-hot kiss against his knuckles. “You’ll think of something. I know you will. You always do.” Blue eyes rolled anew with the effort of staying awake and Edgeworth could feel the man’s grip weakening with each passing second. It must have taken a great deal of energy for him to discuss even that much. Before Phoenix knocked out entirely, Edgeworth glanced over his shoulder to ensure their privacy, then leaned forward to press a kiss against the man’s too-hot forehead. By the time he leaned back, the defense attorney was out cold.

 

Sighing dramatically at how complicated his life had become since returning, the prosecutor rubbed at the bridge of his nose, wondering what it was that he could do to resolve this situation. There was no chance of going in front of the usual judge assigned to criminal affairs, although the old man was often so daft that Edgeworth would almost believe that all it would take to convince him that he’d switched sides would be a few well-placed suggestions and perhaps a complicated analogy. All things considered, he’d rather not risk it, either way. He could distantly recall that the judge had a brother who was involved in the courts circuit and wondered if he’d be able to convince him to oversee the case until Wright’s return.

 

More pressing, however, would be his opponent. There wasn’t a single prosecutor in the state who didn’t know his name, and a great deal of the local ones had actually mentored underneath him for some period of time. Name after name filtered through his thoughts as he watched Phoenix sleep peacefully, still holding onto his hand, chill ebbing slightly from Edgeworth’s body heat. The longer he pondered, the more dismayed he became as it was apparent there was only one possibility to pull this off. Even then, it was a long shot.

 

Shaking his head at it all, he used his free hand to pull his cell phone from his pocket and quickly navigated to the speed dial. Selecting the one name he never would have predicted he’d need to call for something of this nature, he waited patiently for the stern, feminine voice on the other end.

 

“Yes, hello, Franziska. I have an enormous favor to ask of you.”

Chapter 14: Chapter 14

Two days had passed.

 

Edgeworth sat as a spectator, fascinated to watch his new paramour pacing back and forth across the courtroom as he delicately tied the mass of loose ends together, as usual. This time, however, the case had rather rapidly become infinitely more personal for the man, and the prosecutor was fixated on Phoenix, anxiously split between hearing what he had to say and watching him unravel just a bit more with each sentence he shuddered out. Edgeworth could tell that outwardly, the man was as professional as always, but on the inside, he was very quickly losing what tenuous grasp he had on his sanity. Couple that with the fact that the defendant was now apparently Phoenix’s ex-girlfriend (which he still couldn’t quite wrap his head around) and the prosecutor, Godot, was launching an oddly personal attack against the defense attorney, Edgeworth was amazed the man was keeping it together at all. He, himself, could hardly keep up with the mess, and his only job was to sit there and watch it all happen.

 

Beside him, Franziska sat, prim as ever, but Miles could see that her hand was gripped tighter than usual around the handle of her trusty whip. He was glad that she had stuck around as a spectator, although it had surprised him tremendously that she’d bothered to do so. While he was finally comfortable admitting that Phoenix Wright had some genuine skill in the courtroom, particularly now that he had some experience under his belt, he knew that his step-sister was still clutching onto her fervent denial of the fact. Given the way this case was going, he imagined that this would be the make-or-break example for her to finally accept him as a worthy adversary.

 

Not, he reminded himself, that it really mattered to him what she thought of Phoenix.

 

Large volleys of words were exchanged between the two attorneys, with tempers flaring on both sides. The judge sat, transfixed upon the scene, gavel hovering noncommittally over the wooden block on the bench. The defendant, now Dahlia Hawthorne, grinned mirthlessly as she watched the two attorneys battle for a moment. Edgeworth fought to keep his face neutral as he gazed at her, remembering now in uncomfortable clarity how she had watched Terry Fawles with the same expression. If Phoenix made it through this battle, he was in for one hell of a night.

 

The defense attorney finally rounded on Dahlia once more, intent on wrapping things up. His eyes sparked. More conversation about Mia. Then Maya. Dahlia glared at Phoenix with disgust. Phoenix smirked at her. Beside Phoenix, the little one, Pearl, was now…Mia? Edgeworth stared, trying desperately to wrap his head around it all. Before today, he would have passionately insisted that the mere concept of spirit channeling was asinine, but now… He fought the urge to rub childishly at his eyes. It was quite difficult to deny it given Mia’s obvious presence. Mia had her own say regarding Dahlia’s involvement, and finally, finally, Edgeworth could just catch what he supposed was the wretched girl’s soul leaving its host body. He clawed at his pants, frozen to his seat in horror, as the spider web wisps of intangibly vile blackness curled upward and evaporated into thin air, leaving a breathless, pallid Maya Fey behind.

 

The silence in the courtroom was deafening. Edgeworth dared not release a sigh of relief, breath caught in his throat, as Maya suddenly slumped lifelessly against the podium. Predictably, Phoenix rushed to her aid, drawing a gasp from Iris, who was still poised in the defendant’s seat, weeping silently to herself. His heart went out to her for a moment. During his very brief time as a defense attorney, Iris had finally confessed to him her connection to Phoenix Wright. As fascinated as he was regarding her involvement with his new lover, he couldn’t help but feel a bit justified at the stab of jealousy he’d originally felt when he’d met her. He wondered if it would come up at the trial, since the rest of the man’s life story had been discussed to near entirety at this point.

 

He wasn’t sure if he would prefer that it stayed secret or not.

 

As the judge called a brief recess for Maya to recover, Miles heard Franziska sigh quietly beside him. When he turned to raise an eyebrow at her, he was surprised to find that she looked almost…sympathetic. “Something on your mind?”

 

“This isn’t over yet.” She swiped irritably at her perfectly manicured bangs and narrowed her eyes, fixated on the defense table. “He has a good chance at winning this, but…”

 

Edgeworth sighed. So she had figured it out as well. “The conclusion is going to be less than desirable, to be sure.” All around them, a chorus of fervent whispering had almost immediately grown into a dull roar, each spectator having recovered just enough to excitedly offer their own speculation on how the case would turn out. If he listened closely, he could hear just as many supporters for Phoenix as he could for Godot, and the implication made him grimace. “Still, Wright is in fine form today.” He couldn’t resist the jab, and it had exactly the effect he’d been looking for.

 

Franziska’s featured twisted into a scowl. Despite her face screaming disgust for the man, Edgeworth noted that she still had not relaxed her grip upon the leather against her palm. As predicted, she snarled under her breath, still refusing to allow the man any credit. “Phoenix Wright is a fool, and that girl was expertly accurate in pointing out his foolishly foolish optimistic outlook,” she finally turned her eyes away from the floor to stare down Miles, though he was largely unaffected by the glare. He’d been receiving it for nearly half her lifetime; it held little power over him now. “It will be a pleasure to seem him crushed under the despair of—“

 

“Remain seated and come to order!” the tipstaff called over the din of the courtroom, having burst out of the Judge’s chambers in a flustered rush. Franziska’s glare shifted over to the young man, who, thankfully, missed the withering gaze. Edgeworth turned once more to the courtroom at large, where Phoenix was surprisingly leading a bedraggled Maya to the witness stand. Godot took his place at the prosecutor’s bench, smirking into his cup of coffee.

 

So, this is where this ends. Are you ready, Wright?

 

As if he could hear the thought, Phoenix turned his head for a brief moment and locked eyes with Edgeworth. To the average onlooker, the man simply appeared as though he were prepared for battle, but Miles knew him better than that. It was easy for him to see the immense trepidation in those blue eyes and he nodded solemnly to him in encouragement. His heart leapt within his chest as, for just the briefest of moments, Phoenix smiled at him.

 

Maya’s testimony was predictably droll, as the girl seemed to be held together with a hope and a prayer. As Phoenix picked it apart, however, Edgeworth could feel the mood in the courtroom shift from tense to desperate, as Maya began to fight Phoenix’s questioning and instead…defend Godot. The prosecutor sighed to himself, wishing that he hadn’t been correct in his assumptions. Sneaking a glance beside him, he noted that Franziska’s scowl had again relaxed into a sort of tense anticipation, and he secretly suppressed a smile. She could fool most people, but Miles Edgeworth had watched her grow up, and knew full well what kind of heart thundered within that chest of hers. She was just as empathetic as Phoenix was, even if she’d literally die before she revealed it, particularly to her sworn nemesis.

 

Edgeworth turned his attention back to the floor, where it seemed that Godot had now begun to ignore Iris entirely in favor of accusing Phoenix of allowing Mia to die. Edgeworth winced. He wasn’t particularly well-versed in the specifics of how the former attorney had come to meet her demise, but it was obvious even to him that it still affected Wright a great deal. He knew what it had felt like to blame himself for his father’s death, and then to be publicly accused of it in a courtroom… His stomach clenched threateningly at the memory of it all, knowing full well what his paramour was facing internally. He replaced the nausea with rage, instead, on Phoenix’s behalf.

 

Phoenix fought back admirably, though Miles noticed that the man’s hands had begun to tremble as he struggled through his arguments. For once, he noticed that the attorney hadn’t relied on bluffs for most of the trial, and Edgeworth wasn’t sure if that made it better or worse, considering the subject matter. He watched in tense silence and shook his head in awe as Phoenix laid the pressure on, launching a full-scale attack on the Prosecutor now that he’d developed enough justification to accuse the man of murder. Maya began to cry. Pearl clutched desperately at the defense bench, helpless against the drama. Iris wrung her hands in her lap and appeared as though she would have been thrilled with the opportunity to flee.

 

A terrible silence fell over the courtroom once again as Phoenix held up a glossy photo of Mia and pointed an accusing finger at Godot, calling him out as Diego Armando, and Edgeworth could feel his body tense from his toes to his hairline.

 

Diego Armando. Whatever conversation was happening, Miles Edgeworth could not hear. Blood had rushed to his head at the sudden onslaught of memories and he felt suddenly ill, as if the wind had been completely knocked out of him. Compulsively, he stared at the prosecutor, comparing the wild shock of white hair and tan skin to a distant memory at the far recesses of his mind. Godot was Diego Armando, and Diego Armando was Mia Fey’s assistant during Miles Edgeworth’s very first trial where Terry Fawles died and Dahlia Hawthorne walked free to kill again. Each little wispy loose end of information suddenly sucked inward to a long, tidy string that quite neatly tied around the enormous calamity that had dragged on for the last several years.

 

His eyes darted immediately to Maya, who was leaned against the witness stand in a defeated slouch and was gazing at Phoenix with pleading, tearful eyes. As Edgeworth’s heartbeat slowed to sub-apoplexy, he leaned in, straining to hear, still reeling from the impossible connection that had been revealed. Phoenix offered a quick counter, brandishing a clear bag that contained a dagger, and just like that, the courtroom was in an uproar anew. The prosecutor screwed his eyes shut and shook his head, trying desperately to break his tunnel vision, and it was as if someone had taken the volume knob and turned it all the way up. Beside him, Franziska elbowed him sharply in the ribs.

 

“Pay attention, Miles Edgeworth. Is this not what you came here to see?”

 

He felt himself drawn to Iris who, despite awaiting a tremendous verdict, had eyes only for Phoenix. As the Judge pounded his gavel and called out the not guilty with a tremendous voice, every person in the courtroom rushed to their feet in cheers and applause. Edgeworth looked on, ignoring the jaded prosecutor now being led away in handcuffs, unable to tear his gaze away from the look being shared between Phoenix and his client. His stomach soured a bit.

 

Still…

 

The movement of people out of the courtroom was as cattle in a rainstorm, chaotic and slow and yet frantic at the same time. Franziska excused herself, leaving Miles to tap impatiently against his bicep as people shoved and cussed and scrambled to catch a glimpse of the “savant attorney” and the “damsel in distress”. Eventually, after several long minutes of being breathed on and poked and generally molested, Edgeworth breathed a sigh of relief and made for the defense chambers.

 

As he opened the door, the sight before him gave him pause. Phoenix and Iris stood alone, as the television cameras waiting to pounce were not permitted within chambers, and Edgeworth saw with no small amount of discomfort that Phoenix held both Iris’s hands within his own as they conversed. He was obviously catching the tail end of the discussion, but it was enough to discover that Iris had chosen to confess her secrets after all. Phoenix looked unbothered—happy, even. Despite himself, Miles could feel his chest tighten at the sight. Just as he turned to leave them be, for better or worse, Phoenix noticed him standing by the door and grinned brilliantly.

 

If Edgeworth’s chest had been tight before, it might as well have collapsed in on itself at that smile.

 

“Iris, would you mind giving Mr. Edgeworth and me a moment?”

 

The nun bowed her head for a moment and smiled at the both of them—a real smile, full of relief and sweetness. “Of course. I should probably take the opportunity to freshen up a bit before I need to go back to the detention center, anyway.”

 

“Ladies room is outside to your left.”

 

“Thanks, Feenie.”

 

Edgeworth felt as though he were watching the scene from outside himself, even as Iris breezed past him with another grateful smile. After she had disappeared through the old oak door, Edgeworth moved further into the room and shut it behind him. Despite the fact that his original intention had been to come and congratulate Phoenix on his win, he found himself at a lack of words now. Fortunately, the defense attorney never really seemed to have that problem. As he finally turned away from the door, he found himself immediately swept into an abrupt kiss.

 

“Wri—“

 

Phoenix reached up to cup his jaw and pressed his mouth against the Prosecutor’s even more insistently, cutting off what he was sure to be a protest. He couldn’t resist. When he’d had his fill for the moment, he pulled back, but couldn’t quite bring himself to let go of Edgeworth’s jawline as he gazed into stormy grey eyes.

 

Miles blinked back at him, bewildered.

 

“I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done for me on this case, Miles,” Phoenix’s eyes were exhausted and adorned with deep bags underneath, showcasing just how much the whole experience had taken out of him, but the way he stared at his partner was full of light and warmth and everything that had drawn Edgeworth in all those years back when they were children.

 

Edgeworth finally extracted himself from the defense attorney’s cradling grasp, touched by the gesture but more concerned about someone seeing them. He needlessly straightened his cravat for a moment and then cleared his throat, unused to such unrestrained gratitude. “I owed you. I have to admit, though, that your job is abhorrent. Please don’t ever ask me to do that again.”

 

Phoenix laughed for a moment, then swayed dangerously, catching onto Edgeworth’s forearms to steady himself. The prosecutor frowned at him.

 

“You’re coming home with me tonight.”

 

Phoenix looked up at him in surprise. “Miles, I’m fine—“

 

“I wasn’t asking, Phoenix.” He cast a glance around the room, double checking that they were alone, and then pulled the other attorney close to him for a moment. “I’m parked in spot 14, on the basement level. Meet me there when you’ve finished with the press.”

 

Phoenix appeared as though he was prepared to argue, but nodded after a few moments had passed in silence. Their lips met once more, gentle and comforting to both of them, when a deep female voice rang out into the room.

 

“So, this is why you’ve gone soft, Miles Edgeworth.”

 

Both attorneys froze in horror, unwilling and nearly unable to turn and see the only person the voice could belong to. Franziska pushed away from the wall, gently tapping her whip into her palm, smirking at them like a predator. Edgeworth could feel his heart sink into the floor, and Phoenix turned a brilliant scarlet. Both men took a step away from each other, but Franziska was close enough now to reach out and plant one hand into Miles’ lower back, using her bull whip to nudge Phoenix into him.

 

“Oh, please, don’t stop on my account…” Despite the lightness in her tone, her grin was absolutely malicious. When the men could move no closer together, Franziska tapped Phoenix on the back with the curve in her whip. The touch was near-imperceptible through the fabric of his suit, but he flinched violently nevertheless. “…however, you may want to consider how long you keep your client waiting, Phoenix Wright.”

 

Over Franziska’s head, Phoenix could see Iris paused in the doorway, watching the scene in stunned silence. He could feel his heart sink even further at the sight of her; though he wasn’t exactly ashamed of his relationship, he couldn’t say that he was exactly ready to flaunt it, either, and especially not in front of her… Despite Franziska’s embrace, the defense attorney took a firm step backward, trying not to notice how utterly humiliated Edgeworth apparently felt. Clearing his throat, he tried to come up with a way of politely excusing himself without hurting anyone’s feelings.

 

After a few moments of heavy silence passed, Edgeworth still stood frozen, glaring holes into the floor. Franziska had transitioned over to patting her whip into her palm, looking positively smug, and Iris had removed herself to the hallway. Phoenix sighed. “I suppose I ought to go wrap things up. I’ll leave you guys to it.”

 

Miles finally tore his eyes up from the floor just in time to catch Phoenix’s back disappearing out the door. As usual, he found himself preferring the building feeling of rage over any other available emotion. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Franziska moving into one of her usual showy curtsies and he ground his teeth together, taking half a precious second to collect himself. “That…was completely uncalled for.” The sound of his voice surprised him, low and cool and hostile. Unfortunately, Franziska was as used to him as he was to her, and it had little effect.

 

She chuckled arrogantly at him. “I found it rather amusing, Miles Edgeworth. Have you dedicated yourself so completely to besmirching the von Karma name that you would bed the enemy?”

 

It took a tremendous amount of effort not to roll his eyes. “How many times shall I have to explain to you that the courtroom is not a competitive arena—“

 

“Oh, but it is.” Her playful tone had frozen solid. He watched impassively as she folded her arms and turned her back to him. “Your successful career has been nothing but a farce. You have clearly decided to throw away all that Papa has taught you.”

 

At that, he snorted. “All this because I’m with another man?”

 

She rounded on him. “I care little for your foolishly foolish romantic involvements, Miles Edgeworth. Your distractions are your own,” she sneered, “but I must admit, I would see you with literally anyone else but him.”

 

He shrugged, allowing a lighthearted chuckle to escape. “Then perhaps it is the best choice I have made thus far.”

 

Outside, he could hear the distant roar of the crowd that had impatiently waited outside the courthouse. Phoenix must have gone out to greet the press with Iris. A small part of him cringed sympathetically; he’d spent much of his life under a microscope due to von Karma’s fame, and, for him at least, it had never gotten any easier to face the loaded questions and tabloid interviews. If Wright had any sense, he’d end it quickly, get Iris back to the detention center, and be on his way. The prosecutor glanced down at his watch and counted off a few minutes, looking forward to reaching the privacy of his car in the garage.

 

Grateful for the excuse to leave, he bowed graciously to the woman who was still turned rudely away from him. “If that’s all, Ms. von Karma, I’ll be taking my leave now.”

 

Franziska frowned over her shoulder at him. “Are you sure you aren’t playing with fire?”

 

He paused, his hand lingering on the doorknob. “What…do you mean?”

 

Silvery hair slid like water across taut shoulders as Franziska turned toward him, a curiously serious look on her face. “Wright knows now that he dated Iris instead of that devil woman. If memory serves, he was quite taken with her at the time.”

 

Edgeworth’s thoughts faithfully produced an achingly accurate memory of the file still tucked into his briefcase: Devoted to his girlfriend, Dahlia Hawthorne [Key Witness]. He squared his jaw against the reminder. “And?”

 

Franziska rolled her eyes. “Clearly I still have to do your thinking for you.” She turned to face him fully, whip dangling playfully from her fingertips as she swung it back and forth. “Suppose he still has feelings for her. Wouldn’t you say that his dramatic victory in her favor would be the perfect opportunity for them to rekindle their former relationship?”

 

Even though the prosecutor had been expecting her words, he still flinched at hearing them out loud, unwilling to face the probability of it, himself. He thought back to the brief recess he’d shared with Iris when he’d been defending her, and the quiet, sad confession she’d given him regarding the feisty attorney. As usual, Franziska’s suggestion was irritatingly accurate, but it didn’t exactly answer the question of why she felt the need to bring it up at all. “What’s your point, Franziska?”

 

An unladylike snort rang out from behind him, prompting him to glance over his shoulder at her. She smiled at him very briefly, like she used to when they were children. “Simply looking out for my foolish little brother, nothing more.”

 

It was easier, then, to return the smile, and soon he was on his way. Part of him hoped that he would still at least beat the attorney to his vehicle; it would be a bit rude to have invited him—insisted on it, really—to go home with him and then to make him wait for it. Still, his thoughts were tumultuous as he walked briskly toward the exit. He hadn’t wanted to consider the possibility that Phoenix and Iris would discuss their relationship with each other, and he wanted even less to acknowledge how young their own relationship was. Logically speaking, there was plenty of possibility for Phoenix to decide that this wasn’t what he wanted after all, particularly when presented with such an alluring alternative.

 

His dress shoes tapping against the cement steps in the parking garage were the only noise that rang out as he descended, with most of the court staff having left already. As he reached the correct floor, he fished for his keys, eager to be on his way. He was only a little surprised to see Phoenix leaned against the trunk of his car, seemingly lost in thought. Unable to resist even in the midst of all of the drama that had occurred over the last three days, Edgeworth smirked to himself and clicked the lock button on his key fob, eliciting a comically loud BEEP from the vehicle.

 

As expected, the pensive defense attorney leapt away from the car in surprise, eyes darting around in brief terror before catching sight of the prosecutor.

 

“Ready to go?”

 

Phoenix laughed and shook his head. With one hand, he reached for the door; with the other, he flipped Edgeworth the bird. “Thought you’d never ask.”

Chapter 15: Chapter 15

Edgeworth sat in his car listening to the quiet ticks and sighs from the engine for the second time in as many weeks, wondering if it was going to become some sort of habit. Beside him, Phoenix slumped unceremoniously in the passenger seat, face scrunched comically on one side where it stuck against the window. The man was out cold, had barely lasted ten minutes before his head had tilted and hit the glass with a gentle thump, and that was all she wrote. Now that they were home, Edgeworth took advantage of the situation to gather his thoughts before they went inside.

 

Well, that and he felt a little bit bad about waking the man up from such a deep slumber.

 

He’d never brought anyone over his house before and he was a little nervous, even though he knew that the feeling was completely illogical. Of anyone in the world except for perhaps Dick Gumshoe, Phoenix Wright was the least threatening person he could possibly invite into his personal space. Still, he tapped his fingertips against his thighs and considered how to proceed, hoping more than anything else that the other man would feel comfortable enough to rest there. He could still recall how he’d felt after his own double acquittal; if his job hadn’t been so demanding, he imagined he would have slept for days. Add a romantic complication and a concussion on top of such a dominating case, and he’d be surprised if Wright stayed awake long enough to make it up the stairs.

 

He again found himself irritated with his awkwardness as he reached out to wake the attorney, then pulled back. They’d been intimate, for god’s sakes, and yet he felt intrusive waking the man from a nap. Phoenix looked so peaceful, though, with his features slack and his breathing deep, that he still felt a bit rude disturbing him. At long last, he placed a hand on the man’s knee and smoothed it along the fabric of his pants, coming to rest with a small squeeze of his thigh.

 

Sleepy blue eyes opened slightly to blink, unfocused, ahead. After a moment or two, Phoenix picked his head up away from the window and glanced around, gaining his bearings, obviously disoriented. “Huh? We’re here already?”

 

“You’ve been asleep for nearly an hour.”

 

“Geeze, my bad,” the attorney stretched until he was caught abruptly on the seatbelt, yawning and scrubbing aggressively at his eyes. Eventually after a few more glances around the vehicle, Phoenix made short work of the buckle and moved to step out. Edgeworth watched him explore what little space there was in the garage while he pulled both of their briefcases from the trunk, when suddenly, there was a third voice that sounded from within the house.

 

Phoenix whirled, still a tad unsteady, and grinned. “That… that was your dog?” The man leaned to see around Edgeworth, staring at the door.

 

The prosecutor chuckled. “Indeed. That’s Pess. She’s…never had a visitor, I’m afraid. Would you prefer that I put her up before we go inside?”

 

“Nah, this is her house, too.” Despite the very apparent exhaustion that the man still felt, Edgeworth watched in amusement as Phoenix bounced lightly on the balls of his feet, obviously excited. “Besides, if memory serves, you’re a big softy when it comes to your dogs, so I’d bet you’d put me up before her anyway…”

 

“Finally, a glimmer of brilliance from the Master of the Cold Sweat…” The prosecutor locked the car and maneuvered his house key into his fingers, still a bit apprehensive about how Pess would react to a stranger in her home. Supposing it was now or never, Edgeworth unlocked the door and swung it open, ensuring that he placed himself between his dog and his lover. Pess greeted him with her usual enthusiasm, then froze when she noticed Phoenix, ears and tail on the alert. Miles patted her head. “It’s alright, Pess. He’s with me.”

 

Behind him, Phoenix was decidedly less cautious and plopped himself down onto the garage floor, arms and legs wide. He patted his chest enthusiastically and called out to her. “Pess! I’m Phoenix! C’mere, girl!”

 

Pess bounded through Edgeworth’s legs and leapt up against the other attorney, tail wagging. Phoenix giggled and ruffled her fur, falling backward with the force of her attention. The prosecutor watched, frighteningly close to smiling affectionately at the two of them as they romped amongst themselves for a moment. He snorted. Some guard dog… Leaving the two of them on the floor, he proceeded inside and filled Pess’s bowls for her, figuring that they would make their way inside eventually.

 

As he worked toward the bedroom, he sighed to himself, feeling mildly overstimulated from working through such an eventful day. He wondered briefly if he should offer the other man some sleepwear, despite the fact that they’d already slept next to each other in the nude. He lamented his lack of experience in these matters; all of his other partners were typically already gone by the morning after, if they’d stayed at all. Irritated that he was constantly second-guessing himself, he figured it would be most polite to offer and let the defense attorney decide for himself. When he reached the chest of drawers in his closet, he pulled out a simple white t-shirt and flannel pants and laid them on the corner of the bed.

 

Setting to work on undressing himself, he ruminated on the events of the day. Phoenix had been a force to be reckoned with on the courtroom floor that day, hardly resorting to his usual showy display of bluffs and emotional callouts. He’d have been proud either way, but it was refreshing to be genuinely impressed by another attorney, particularly with the inside knowledge of how personal the case had been to the other man. With the verdict secured, it left only two major issues on the table: The emotional lashing that Godot had unleashed upon Phoenix, and the attorney’s renewed exposure to the one known significant relationship he’d ever had.

 

Longing for a shower, he instead decided he should probably make sure that the other man was situated before he abandoned him. He noted that the house was suspiciously quiet, and as he pulled on a set of pajamas, himself, he narrowed his eyes at the unusual silence. There wasn’t a lot that Phoenix could really get into; he’d dog-proofed the house a long time ago, so surely it was attorney-proofed as well, but still… He shut the closet doors and ran a hand through his bangs, hoping to make an early night of it but unable to repress the nagging feeling that there were still some loose ends needing resolved before they could get some rest.

 

His house wasn’t large; most on the outskirts of the city weren’t, but he still managed to secure a location with enough space to feel comfortable. His bedroom, the master bath, and the guest room took up the top floor, with a largely open floor plan downstairs. He supposed it would be considered lavish by the common public’s standards, but to him, it was downright modest compared to growing up in the von Karma mansions. A quick peek outside told him that Phoenix hadn’t taken Pess out, so what in the world were they up to?

 

Edgeworth padded quietly down the steps, unsure of why he was sneaking around in his own home, but curious to catch his partner unawares. For this reason, he was grateful for all the open space, as he could see the man from the stairs. The attorney was reclined in the bay window in the living room, gazing out across the city with Pess in his arms. As the prosecutor approached, he was given away by his dog’s tail wagging a gentle thwap-thwap-thwap against the bench cushion. To his surprise, Phoenix leaned forward to accommodate him, but hadn’t switched his focus.

 

He slid in behind the other man and was secretly delighted at the weight of Phoenix Wright leaning back against his chest.

 

They sat silently, both gazing out at the industrial horizon across the shipping port in the distance. The prosecutor wrestled himself mentally, trying desperately not to think about Phoenix and Iris and what they must have discussed amongst themselves, but jealousy bubbled threateningly close to the surface of his self-control. Even as hard as he tried to quell the sensation, he wondered to himself what Phoenix was thinking about, and if she was on his mind as well. Half of him wanted to bring it up and confront it just to get it over with; the other half of him was completely horrified at the suggestion of it. He sighed quietly at himself, furious that he was so consistently unable to work through his emotions like he could through a criminal investigation.

 

Eventually, Edgeworth was somewhat convinced that Phoenix had fallen asleep again before a quiet murmur emerged in the darkness: “Do you think Godot was right?”

 

The question stopped his thoughts like a brick wall. “W-what?”

 

Phoenix shifted minutely, settling further against the prosecutor’s body. “About Mia and Maya. He said… he said I had failed them, that it was my duty as a man to protect them.”

 

Is that what he’s been thinking about this whole time…? Edgeworth shifted his arms so he could wrap them around the attorney’s shoulders. “He was a talented prosecutor, but emotionally, he was a fool.”

 

Phoenix tilted his head back and away from the window, resting it on Edgeworth’s chest and focusing instead on Pess, who was snoring away, unbothered by the drama. “What do you mean?”

 

Miles could feel his heartbeat quickening at the closeness between them. It still felt foreign to him, but he welcomed the alien feeling, thankful to finally, finally be able to offer something akin to comfort to someone else. “Do you remember what you said to me when you defended me?”

 

“Something along the lines of, ‘What other choice do you have,’ I think…” At Edgeworth’s groan, Phoenix couldn’t help but giggle.

 

“No, Wright, and thank you for reminding me of how horrifyingly close to losing that case we actually were…” He bowed his head and rested his nose against the top of Phoenix’s head, taking in the smell of his shampoo and hair gel, careful to avoid his stitches. “You told me that just because something was out of my control did not mean that it was my fault.”

 

“Hm. Yeah, I do remember that. You were trying to change your plea to guilty for a reduced charge. I was so angry with you.”

 

“Just because Mia and Maya met with terrible misfortune does not mean that you could have affected it any differently. They’re lucky to have you around, Wright.”

 

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. They’re lucky to have you, too, though. We all are.” Phoenix leaned forward and apologized to Pess before placing her down on the floor, then stood and stretched. Edgeworth looked up at him quizzically.

 

“I’ve done remarkably little to help any of you, aside from that ridiculous experience defending Maya—“

 

“Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong, chief,” Phoenix turned and pointed at Edgeworth, then winked at him. “You posted Maya’s bail when she was arrested for you, you helped me put Gant away, you served as a consistent and faithful distraction for Oldbag…”

 

Edgeworth grimaced.

 

“I was serious when I told you that I couldn’t have gotten through this one without you, for more reasons than one. I really owe you.” He patted his leg and walked to the back door to let Pess out, whistling quietly to himself when he got there. “You have a pool back here? And a mini bar!?”

 

“They came with the house. I use the pool to keep in shape, but I’m afraid the bar doesn’t see much company.” Despite the volley of compliments that Phoenix had just lobbed at him, Edgeworth was unable to keep the bitter edge from his tone. He shifted on the seat and swung his legs over the edge, watching as the defense attorney, of course, picked up on it and walked back across the floor to him.

 

“What’s on your mind?”

 

The prosecutor sighed, wondering what the best course of action was. As he gazed at the floor, willing it to produce some answers, his gaze was interrupted with a pair of socked feet. He followed the lean legs and trim waist up to the disarming blue eyes of his rival, partner, and lover, and shook his head. “I…am unsure of what will happen between you and Iris now that you’ve been reunited.” He cringed immediately, bracing for the worst, hating the way the words sounded after they’d been said out loud. Curse his weaknesses.

 

To his surprise, Phoenix simply looked dumbfounded. “Be—between me and Iris?”

 

Edgeworth clutched at his elbow and glared at the wall, feeling childish and exposed. “You and she dated for quite some time, and she was clearly delighted to see you again—“

 

“Wait, how… How did you know we were together?”

 

Edgeworth froze.

 

“It… I don’t remember it coming up during the trial?”

 

“She…explained it to me during the first trial day while you were still in the hospital. She was quite taken with you.” He resumed his attempts to melt the paint on the wall with his stare, refusing to bare any more of his shame to the man standing in front of him. After several attempts to distract him failed, he ultimately relented only when Phoenix took his chin and physically rotated his head so that he could look him in the eye. Edgeworth was tremendously surprised to see him smiling.

 

“You’re jealous.”

 

“I am not jealous.”

 

Phoenix laughed quietly, airy and warm, and smoothed Edgeworth’s bangs away from his face. “You are peanut butter and jealous, Mr. Edgeworth.” Before the prosecutor could retort, the defense attorney leaned down and kissed him gently, still unable to quell the grin on his lips. “I never would have guessed.”

 

Sour features faced mild amusement as the two held their brief stalemate before Edgeworth broke the standoff, staring out the window at Pess. He wasn’t entirely sure why it was so difficult to ask Phoenix outright how he felt; he pressed witnesses about difficult personal topics like he ordered takeout. Sighing to himself, he stood, prepared to end the conversation and file it away for another, less exhausting day, when Phoenix ensnared his fingers and stopped him. “Hey.”

 

Edgeworth turned his gaze back to the other man, wary.

 

“I chased you for seventeen years, remember?” His tone was gentle and almost teasing, and the prosecutor was surprised to find that it actually helped put him at ease. Even so, Phoenix pressed on. “I used everything shy of smoke signals, changed careers, even challenged you as a greenhorn rookie just to see you again…” His eyes were an impossible shade of blue and with each word he spoke, Edgeworth felt himself grow more relieved, even if he now wanted to chide himself for ever doubting the other man in the first place. He allowed the defense attorney to reach up and trace a finger across his face, drinking in his words like they were water in a desert. “You really think one chance encounter with an ex-girlfriend is enough to convince me to give you up now?”

 

At that, Miles had to chuckle, even if he felt rather stupid. The most he could muster was to squeeze gently at the other man’s knuckles, unable to repress the blush of shame that decorated his cheeks. “I suppose I can be a bit possessive. It took me a long time before I felt worthy of asking for…well, this.”

 

Phoenix chuckled low in his throat and tucked his nose under Edgeworth’s chin, forcing the other man to pick his head back upward. “And yet, you apparently got the impression that I’m the type to date a convict… tsk, tsk. You think you know a guy.”

 

Behind them, Pess barked and jumped up to place her paws against the glass, causing both men to jump slightly at the commotion. Two separate voices burst into relieved laughter then, the tension broken, and Phoenix shook his head as Edgeworth walked over to let her in. “I guess she’s offended that we forgot about her.”

 

“She is rather spoiled, I’m afraid.” Despite his words, Edgeworth was already reaching for the treat jar next to the door as he let her in. Phoenix looked on as Pess then ran through a small repertoire of tricks before she was dutifully rewarded with her jerky treat. The show made his heart swell by several sizes with nostalgia; there were some aspects of Miles Edgeworth, it seemed, that hadn’t changed after all… not since Missile, anyway. His eyes lingered on the little dog as she trotted happily to her bed in the corner—a miniature chaise lounge, complete with tiny decorative pillow. It was impossible not to roll his eyes at that point, no matter how hilariously appropriate it was.

 

The defense attorney took a moment to admire the prosecutor, unused to seeing him so casual. If he were honest, his head was still pounding and his body was beyond completely drained from sustaining his fever on top of the fervent activity of the case. He longed to get out of his suit and into a bed and wondered how long Edgeworth would permit him to stay. Feeling cheeky despite his overwhelming exhaustion, he sauntered over to the man who was fussing over setting the water kettle for the morning and grabbed gently at his hips to turn him around. Reminiscent of their first real night together, Phoenix grinned and pressed the prosecutor into the counter, hoping he would catch that the tables had turned.

 

It was getting easier to kiss the man now that the initial strangeness had worn off. Phoenix found himself enjoying the gentle roughness of the other man’s stubble, or the way his lips were just slightly chapped from being gnawed on when he was deep in thought, or how strong his hands felt when they clutched around his lower back. In the end, he supposed as he savored the way the other man tasted, it was someone who cared enough about him to have gotten defensive of their new relationship, and the idea sort of thrilled him. Dahlia—Iris, he corrected—had been sweet, but flighty, and he’d never quite gotten the sense that he’d truly meant something to her.

 

Edgeworth, on the other hand, had tied himself into a knot over seeing them converse, and the realization that he was indeed something that the other man genuinely pursued and apparently cherished deeply flattered him. Pulling back, he pressed his forehead against the prosecutor’s as they both panted, breathless and drunk off of each other’s presence. He was still close enough that their lips brushed together when he spoke. “I don’t regret anything that’s happened between us, Miles, and I’d be lying if I said that your jealousy didn’t turn me on just a little bit,” he took a moment and nibbled gently at the prosecutor’s lower lip, “so why don’t you take me upstairs and show me just how possessive you really feel?”

 

Edgeworth shuddered gently at the suggestion, partly out of arousal, mostly out of relief that he hadn’t irreparably ruined things between them with his little outburst. He grabbed Phoenix by the tie and tugged it over his shoulder as he walked toward the stairs, eager to end the evening on a high note. He could hear Phoenix chuckling behind him and he smirked, wondering how soon he could turn that into a different sound entirely. Once they’d reached the top of the stairs, he turned, making a last minute decision to turn toward the bathroom instead of the bedroom.

 

Just as they reached the door, Phoenix grabbed at him and kissed him once more with enough force to push him into the bathroom. Unwilling to part from him, Edgeworth reached to his left and groped for the faucet handle to turn the shower on, then began to work on getting Phoenix out of his suit. The defense attorney was patient as his tie was removed, then his jacket, but laughed out loud when Edgeworth moved to hang it on a hook behind them.

 

“For God’s sakes, Miles, it’s a $200 suit…” Edgeworth watched as Phoenix tugged his shirt up and over his head and promptly dropped it on the floor. His hands made quick work of his undershirt, then, which he twirled dramatically and slung over the prosecutor’s head. “You don’t need to be so careful with it.”

 

Predictably, it was promptly discarded next to the rest of the attorney’s garments.

 

Enticed by the bare chest in front of him, Edgeworth pressed his palms against the brunette’s shoulders until he backed into the wall and then his mouth was on him again, eager and seeking along the man’s throat. His hands made short work of the suit pants and boxers, and only then did he come to realize that he, himself, was fully clothed. Underneath him, Phoenix’s body had responded delightfully to his touch, and he needed to feel their skin more than anything else in that moment.

 

Fortunately, the other attorney seemed to have the same idea, and he maneuvered his hands around Edgeworth’s seeking touches to pull the crisp white t-shirt up and over his head. One gentle tug took care of the prosecutor’s pajama pants, and just like that, they were crushed against each other once more.

 

Even distracted as he was, Edgeworth still managed to pull Phoenix toward the shower, unrelenting in his insistence that they get clean before sleeping on his sheets. He used one hand to hold the man close to him, the other to check the temperature of the water before swinging both of them under the stream and sliding the door shut. Phoenix gasped under the onslaught, shutting his eyes against the hot water and tilting his head into the spray; the prosecutor watched as the droplets tumbled over brunette spikes and dripped down tanned skin, fascinated.

 

“I know we’re kind of in the middle of something here,” Phoenix shook his head like a dog, nose crinkled against the droplets that flew off of him, then ducked out of the waterfall showerhead for a moment, “but this is just about the most incredible shower I’ve ever been in. It has a rainfall showerhead.” Unable to resist, he braced his arms against the wall and the door and stretched into the torrent of water, groaning in pleasure.

 

Edgeworth couldn’t help but laugh. He imagined he was in for a long ride of being taught about things he took for granted. His fingertips glided along the other man’s body unheeded by friction and came to lace together behind the brunette’s neck, pulling him into a wet, languid kiss. It felt as if an enormous weight had been taken off of his shoulders once again, and he remained stunned that the other man could so effortlessly breeze into his life and make everything feel right again. “Phoenix.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“I want…” He blushed hot for a moment, still inexplicably shy. “I want you to…” Despite his desire, the words still caught in his throat and stuck there, impeded by a damnable combination of pride and self-consciousness.

 

Thankfully, Phoenix was uninhibited by the prosecutor’s hesitance, and reached up to cup a strong jawline in his hand. “Whatever you want,” he murmured, the huskiness in his voice nearly drowned out by the sound of the shower, “why don’t you show me?”

 

It was exactly what Edgeworth needed to hear.

Chapter 16: Chapter 16

Crickets chirped rhythmically outside, audible through the cracked window behind their heads. Edgeworth lay there content, listening to their gentle conversation, trailing his fingers up and down Phoenix’s spine as he slept peacefully against the prosecutor’s chest. The ache between his legs had only just begun to set in and he shifted against it, careful not to disturb the slumbering man in his arms. As usual, he’d been pleasantly surprised by the attorney’s ability to adapt; his body still thrummed with the pleasure from their earlier tryst in the shower. Perhaps he was simply a good teacher.

 

As the two of them lie there in bed, he sighed deeply and shut his eyes, trying to savor the moment as much as he could. It had been an unbelievably long, arduous road to arrive in this very place and time and he intended to appreciate it at every opportunity. He’d never been a particularly religious man, but he knew when to give gratitude for things he’d been given. Resting his chin on the top of Phoenix’s head, he smiled to himself, wondering where they would go from here.

 

Despite the exhaustion that wracked his body, he found himself unable to doze off, insistent upon monitoring the other man in his bed for a while longer. Phoenix wasn’t one to complain, not often, but it was impossible to miss the hideous bruise that still decorated his features as a terrible reminder of what had transpired mere days ago. He’d never had a concussion before, himself, but he remembered reading once that you shouldn’t allow people to sleep too deeply when they had one and the notion gave him a small amount of anxiety. Logically speaking, he knew they were pretty much out of the woods at this point, particularly with Phoenix’s rather…athletic display earlier, but nevertheless, he found it quite difficult to rest.

 

He wondered what the man was dreaming about, if anything.

 

The image of Phoenix sat at his piano drifted to the forefront of his mind and he closed his eyes, focusing on it. He hadn’t quite gotten the chance to tell him that he’d gotten it tuned for him, but he figured it would come up soon enough. At this point, he was half tempted to buy one for his own home, if only to maximize the opportunities to get the other man to sing for him again. Distantly, he knew it was outrageous; they had been dating for a scant two weeks, if that. Certainly it hadn’t been long enough for him to start spending money on extravagant gifts as poorly-concealed bribes for the attorney’s time and attention.

 

Still…

 

He turned his head to rest his cheek against the damp black spikes. In spite of his handsome salary, it got terribly boring spending his money on himself all the time. Now that he’d been exposed to Phoenix’s artistic talents, he found himself increasingly eager to encourage them by any means necessary.

 

The brunette in question shifted under his cheek, murmuring sleepily to himself as he repositioned. When Edgeworth glanced down at him, he was surprised to see Phoenix awake. 

 

“I didn’t wake you, did I?”

 

“Nah.” His voice as thick with slumber. Edgeworth wondered if he was actually awake or simply talking in his sleep. “Head hurts.”

 

“Would you like something for it?”

 

“Nngh.” Phoenix groped blindly beside both of them for a moment, finally locating Edgeworth’s hand. He positioned it gracelessly on the back of his head and grunted out a noncommittal noise, prompting a chuckle from the prosecutor.

 

“How terribly eloquent,” he murmured, indulging the wordless request for a head scratch. Absentmindedly stroking his fingers through the raven locks, he went back to reclining and listening to the other man sleep, soaking up the chance to decompress from the last two weeks. How quickly his life had changed. He wondered if his father could see him now, if he’d be proud of him. What he could remember of his father, he’d always been such a serious man, but warm and kind, as well… Thinking critically, he couldn’t say with any integrity that his father would have liked the person Edgeworth had become before Phoenix had found him.

 

He could feel his left leg beginning to fall asleep from the weight of the man using him for a pillow, but he minded little. After nearly twenty years of misery and struggling alone, he could safely say that in this moment, he could die and still remain satisfied that he had accomplished good in his life. Perhaps it was still the afterglow, but he couldn’t ever remember feeling quite this complete with any of his other partners. Not, he amended, that any of them had ever cared enough for him to save a childhood keychain in his memory, either…

 

His memory drifted back to one of the few times he could remember feeling as though he still had friends in the world, when he’d gone shopping with Franziska and her father. He hadn’t thought of it in years, not until Phoenix had sparked the flashback with his gentle, sad reminder of all the ways he’d tried to contact him… A laugh threatened to fight its way out of him at how ridiculously serious it had felt at the time to hear the radio station call out to him.

 

“Signal Red, hope you’re well! We miss you, from Signal Blue!”

 

It was as though the hand of God had come down and touched him that day, knowing that his friends still remembered and cared for him, in spite of his absence. Well, one of them, anyway. He still felt awkwardly unworthy of the other man’s loyalty over the years, but he was certainly grateful to have it.

 

Finally shifting himself down, he winced as his body protested from Phoenix’s earlier ministrations. It had been a long, long time since he’d let anyone take him in such a way, but between Phoenix’s victory and Miles’ desire to see a different side of him, he regretted nothing other than the stretches he’d been neglecting lately. Even so, it made it terribly difficult to maneuver the two of them into a comfortable sleeping position, and he finally had to relent to waking the other man in order to shift him over.

 

Phoenix moved happily enough, rolling over until his head was just on the barest minimum of his own pillow. Sleepy blue eyes watched with mild interest as Edgeworth slid the blankets overtop both of their bodies. Once he was settled, defense embraced prosecution languidly, draping a lifeless arm over the curve of a naked hip. “Miles?”

 

“Hm?”

 

When there was no response, gray looked down to see expectant blue, and the gaze produced a chuckle before the man leaned down to kiss his lover. When he pulled away, he shook his head, and then: “I looked up the case where you stood trial against Dahlia.” He couldn’t hold it in anymore.

 

To his surprise, Phoenix giggled. “Good thing I was lying down for that one.”

 

“You…aren’t upset with me?”

 

The other attorney stretched, catlike, unable to keep the smile off of his face. “I stood trial for murder, during which my girlfriend testified against me. Who in the world could resist, much less you?” He seemed to consider it further before another quiet laugh bubbled from him. “Pretty sure I could tell you that I wrote a chicken cacciatore recipe when I was twelve and you’d manage to track it down by day’s end.”

 

Despite Phoenix’s teasing tone, Edgeworth frowned. “I didn’t realize I was so—“

 

“—good at what you do, is what I’m sure you were about to say,” Phoenix reached up and silenced the man’s protest with a finger against his lips, only relenting when he was certain Edgeworth had swallowed his self-deprecation. He dragged the fingertip downward, tracing over the prosecutor’s chin, his adam’s apple, his chest… Only once he’d traced the man’s navel and gone up and over his hip did he shake his head and grin sideways at his partner. “I knew from the moment you’d asked about her that you’d stop at nothing to get a hold of that case.”

 

“You told me not to.”

 

“Yeah, because saying her name out loud is as good as summoning her with a Ouija board. Didn’t even have to, and look what still happened.” His frown was childish, and it made Edgeworth grin.

 

“I did something else while you were…preoccupied.”

 

Phoenix’s eyebrows rose sharply for a moment, his smirk electric. “Oh? Want to…share?”

 

The prosecutor snorted. “Nothing quite so lewd, I’m afraid, considering you were on your deathbed…” he shifted onto his belly and turned his head toward his lover, still marveling at how comfortable things felt just lying around and talking with no pressure to do anything but to simply enjoy each other. “I had your piano tuned for you.”

 

“What—really?!” Phoenix popped up onto his elbows and stared down at Miles in excitement. “I—that’s amazing! I wonder what it sounds like!”

 

The prosecutor watched him, immensely pleased with the reaction. “There’s a secondary appointment to get some things fixed on it. It’s in surprisingly good shape for having been through all the abuse you mentioned.”

 

Phoenix stared at him in awe for a moment, then, unable to restrain himself, kissed the man. It was awkward and aggressive, but lighthearted, forceful only by virtue of the exhilaration and gratitude that inspired it to begin with. Edgeworth laughed at the advance, returning in kind as best he was able. The defense attorney’s smile was bright and childlike as he beamed down at his partner. “That…means a lot, Miles. Thank you.”

 

“Mm. You can thank me by playing for me tomorrow evening after dinner.” He allowed his eyes to slide shut as he finally began to feel sleep overtaking him. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten about your promise.”

 

Phoenix snorted beside him before sliding down onto his back, hooking a leg over Edgeworth’s in a stubborn unwillingness not to be connected to him somehow. “Fine, I’ll clean up, but that doesn’t mean you won’t still have to read the menu to me when we get there unless you want me to eat a whole meal of salad and bread. Bet me I won’t.”

 

Edgeworth snuck a hand up just as Phoenix started another sentence and gently covered the man’s mouth, taking advantage of his position to hide his grin against the attorney’s shoulder. There would be growing pains, to be certain, but as the two of them lie there enjoying the night breeze through the window and the gentle reassuring weight of their bodies pressed together, each one knew privately that this was finally the way things were supposed to be.

Notes:

Thanks for reading. Hope you enjoyed it. <3