Work Text:
Prologue
March 22, 2018, 3:00 PM
District Court
Courtroom No. 3
Phoenix glared at Franziska von Karma's smug, smirking face. The first day of Matt Engarde's trial was drawing to a close, and Phoenix was sweating bullets. He thought he was getting somewhere, having caught Adrian Andrews in a complicated tangle of lines, when Franziska had delivered a truly shocking turnabout.
"It falls on my shoulders to disclose this to the court. This foolish witness... How should I put this... She has an illness. And because of this illness, she has foolishly tried to commit suicide in the past."
The second mention of suicide in one day struck Phoenix silent. And after that, when Adrian poured out her sabotage of the crime scene, even Phoenix had to admit the ring of truth in it. No locks and chains sprang up around Adrian's slumped shoulders. She was guilty of something: tampering with a crime scene, or perhaps obstruction of justice, but not murder.
The judge pounded his gavel twice. "That's enough," he announced. "There is no need for this court to continue any further."
"I'm sorry," whispered Mia, disappearing in a halo of windswept hair as Pearl lost their channeled connection.
No. Maya! Maya will be. . . .
"Court is now adjourned for the day—"
"Objection!"
The cry rang through the room like a thunderclap, jolting through Phoenix from head to toe and piercing through the heart. That voice came from his right, the voice of a long-dead specter, where little Pearl stood. Slowly, Phoenix turned towards it, his blood running cold and his eyes prickling hot. A familiar smirk, arms folded defiantly over a chest bared in Pearl's now too-small robes, a single raised eyebrow accompanying the equally scathing words—
"Really, Wright? That's your best bluff?" Miles Edgeworth asked scornfully.
Across the courtroom, Franziska was screaming, enraged and tearful at the same time. "MILES? What the FUCK?"
Whatever explanation Edgeworth was giving was lost in the ensuing, deafening uproar. The judge banged his gavel and declared the court adjourned for the day.
? ? ?
MASON System
Phoenix slowly came awake in unfamiliar darkness, space stretching endlessly in every direction, thin lines of code scrolling past, illuminating the place in a faint, blue-white glow. He didn't remember falling asleep. A dream, then.
He was not alone. A familiar figure was approaching, face cast in shadow with a knit beanie pulled nearly over his eyes. The figure stopped before him and casually waved a hand, a console springing up at Phoenix's feet, the flat screen flickering to life. He began to speak in an otherworldly voice, a hundred robotic tones layered together, yet carrying a rhythmic, familiar cadence.
"Truly a shocking turnabout, after half a lifetime of chasing him, for Miles to find you. The threads of the past work their pull on the present. But you'll soon be finding all of this out for yourself. Which of our worst memories wove the present into such a tragedy? What dark truth lurks behind our every action? The past left us these four keys to unlocking the truth. But that's not all. There are four keys in the present, as well. And when all the questions have found their answers. . . the final trial will begin. But first, you must chase the truth through then and now. Think of it. . . as a game."
The shadowy figure touched the screen, and a pattern of lights appeared, displaying an array of case files arranged in two columns, each marked with a name and location. "Miles Edgeworth, Detective Gumshoe, Celeste Inpax, and Gregory Edgeworth," Phoenix read along the left column, doing a double take at Gregory Edgeworth. He continued down the right column, reading out "Miles Edgeworth, again, Franziska von Karma, Adrian Andrews, and Maya Fey."
"This terrible trial confronts you with the ghosts of the past and present. Maya, your present best friend, taken from you, as her sister was before. Edgeworth, your childhood best friend, standing before you in the present yet impossibly beyond reach. What drove him to such lengths? Something went terribly wrong a year ago, but your journey will take you far in the distant past. As your investigation proceeds, you may be able to undo and weave the threads of fate anew."
"Who are you?" Phoenix asked.
"I suppose you can call me. . . Keith," the figure said after a brief deliberation. "Come now, shall we begin? Use these case files to move between past and present. Now that you know the game, let's play."
Without even a second of hesitation, Phoenix immediately selected the case file for Miles Edgeworth, Defendant Lobby, on the Present list, resuming precisely where he last remembered. The dim and glowing surroundings vanished, replaced by shadowy shapes that quickly changed color and came into focus.
March 22, 2018, 4:35 PM
District Court
Defendant Lobby No. 3
"You really are gone?" Phoenix stood facing the window, facing the direction he'd entered the lobby from the hall, staring at nothing and seeing nothing. He did not look at Edgeworth.
"Yes. I'd have thought that was evident."
"So that's it? You're just going to disappear like that and then show up here?"
"You act like I had a choice to, as you said, show up here. Spirits are channeled, they don't just show up," Edgeworth snapped back. He heaved a sigh and continued, more softly. "Although I see that I've caused you some grief. I apologize. It was not my intention."
At that, Phoenix finally turned around to face him, revealing his face red and tear-stained. "What are you playing at? I was distraught. . . Not only me, but everyone who knew you. . . Franziska, Gumshoe, everyone you worked with. . . ."
"You'd be wrong there. I left my work in order."
"That's not what I meant!"
They glared at each other, Phoenix breathing harshly and Edgeworth with his arms crossed, defensive in every line of his bearing.
"I never believed you were truly. . . gone," Phoenix sniffled, breaking the standoff. "No one ever found your body."
"That was as arranged," Edgeworth replied gently, with a touch of regret. "I'm not cruel, Wright. I wouldn't cause anyone the trauma of discovering me."
"But. . . all the trauma and grief of mourning you! Why did you do it? Was it because you lost your perfect win record? Someone so selfish should never have become a prosecutor!"
The spirit seemed to recoil at that, turning his head and gripping his elbow, a gesture so familiar it made Phoenix's chest ache. "No, it wasn't for something so stupid. I had my reasons. No, I couldn't change my own mistakes, but there was something I could do in the present."
"Something you could do—you mean leave me to pick up the pieces?" Phoenix snarled, more accusingly than he'd intended, but the time for discretion seemed to have long passed. With nothing further that could be lost, what could he have to hide from a ghost? "I went to law school to find you and reach you. I defended you when you had no one. How could you think I wouldn't be devastated?"
"You're a kind person, Wright. You try to save everyone who crosses your path. I thought to free you from one such burden." Edgeworth looked away, frowning. "I now see I've misjudged."
"You. . ." Lost for words, Phoenix tried to be angry, but found the anger dried away, replaced by a profound ache. Such a lonely and isolated existence. . . "If that's how you feel, it's a wonder you survived as long as you did," Phoenix muttered. He scrubbed a hand over his eyes and raised his chin. "I'm sorry, Edgeworth. I thought I had saved you just by getting you the Not Guilty. But my work wasn't done, was it?"
Edgeworth remained turned away, refusing to make eye contact. "My troubled past is not your work," he whispered, almost to himself. "What's the safe number?"
"What?" Phoenix asked, surprised by the non sequitur.
"What's the safe number?" Edgeworth repeated, reciting the worn and familiar words. "The bookends of fifteen years of darkness. I can't undo the past, but I've seen you achieve far more improbable outcomes in court. Fine then. I couldn't stop you from taking up my defense then, and I am equally powerless to stop you from prying into my spirit now. What do you wish to know?"
Phoenix shook his head. "Not so much something to know as something I need to do. Wait for me. Please."
"Alright." Phoenix sprinted from the lobby, stealing a last glance over his shoulder as he left.
February 25, 2017, 9:00 PM
High Prosecutor's Office
Room 1202
One year in the past, Phoenix slammed open the heavy oak door. "You weren't at the celebration dinner," he gasped out, panting from a fast, hard bike ride over. Fresh tears threatened to spill at the sight of his long-dead friend, alive and breathing once again. He wrestled his future self's emotions into control.
The Edgeworth of a year ago looked up from his massive desk, his startled expression quickly smoothing into practiced calm. "Don't slam my door, Wright. What are you talking about?"
"For Lana's acquittal! What are you doing here instead?"
"Quite extraordinary for a chief prosecutor to be in his own office. I'm preparing the paperwork from the trial, of course."
Phoenix braced himself for the time dilation, the chains and locks springing forth. There it was: a single red lock, fixed firmly in place. Phoenix stormed forward—Edgeworth quickly slipped a page under a legal pad, which Phoenix carefully pretended not to notice—and slammed a hand on the desk. He reached into his pocket and held out the magatama. "I can see lies," he said without preamble. "You have a psychelock. That's not the real reason you're here."
Cold grey eyes glared back into his. "I. . . what's a psycholock? Whatever you think that magic stone of yours says about my sincerity, I am under no obligation to explain myself. You seem rather agitated. Is something the matter?"
I'm from the future, and I know. . . everything. He couldn't say that. He couldn't say it and still be thought sane. Phoenix dropped his head into his hands, tugging at his hair. "I have a hunch," he said slowly, wincing at the vague, innocuous-sounding words. "I think something's wrong, and I'm worried about you."
There was no waver in Edgeworth's reaction when he firmly answered, "I assure you I'm fine," but the room spun again as more chains and locks slammed into place. There were now five red locks between them. Phoenix sagged in despair. "Edgeworth. . . Miles. There's more of them now. . . You know you can tell me anything, right? I'm here for you. You have friends. We'll do anything for you."
"That's kind of you. And I repeat that I'm fine." The locks were as sturdy as ever, and Edgeworth himself as unyielding as ever. No trace of flickering emotion disrupted the steel in his flat dismissal.
Phoenix curled his hands into fists. I won't let you die.
February 22, 2017, 8:40 PM
Police Department
Entrance
Having reached a dead end with Edgeworth, Phoenix immediately opened the next file in the MASON's console, and was again pulled into a long-forgotten moment. As his past self left Lana's celebration, he passed the police station, and Detective Gumshoe came ambling out, whistling to himself, seemingly on his way home.
"Detective Gumshoe!" Phoenix called out to the scruffy detective. "I thought you left Lana's celebration dinner to go home. Didn't realize you were heading back to work."
"Oh, I just had to drop off some evidence. Actually I'm heading to another crime scene now! I gotta do a good job investigating, so Mr. Edgeworth has everything he needs. He's counting on me, and I won't let him down!" The detective grinned.
Phoenix smiled at that, fondness spreading at Gumshoe's persistence. Though there were some who despised Edgeworth, he seemed to inspire loyalty in those who worked closely with him, and Phoenix was fiercely glad that Edgeworth was not walking the path of a prosecutor alone. He was also seized with heightened urgency: many more will grieve if he goes through with it. To Gumshoe, he said, "Has Edgeworth ever told you you're a really great detective? You can be bumbling, but you do your best! I hope he appreciates you."
"Hey, watch it buddy! Who are you calling bumbling?" Gumshoe yelled. He blinked as his brain caught up to the rest of the words, and then he scratched his head in embarrassment. "Oh, you meant in a good way. Aww, thanks pal, you're gonna make me cry. You're a pretty swell guy too! And Mr. Edgeworth is lucky you're his friend."
Guilt shot through Phoenix, and he squashed it down. Not unless I fix this. He looked at his watch, then looked around frantically. Time was running out, and he didn't have a plan. It felt uncomfortably like an ordinary day in court for him. "Detective, can you do me a favor? I need you to distract Mr. Edgeworth. He's in his office right now."
"Whoa pal, you're gonna get me fired," Gumshoe took a step back, shaking his head.
"It will be fine, I promise!" Phoenix argued, desperately and entirely without precedent. Actually, with plenty of precedent to the contrary, Phoenix realized in dismay. On an impulse, he added, "If anything happens, I will personally hire you for Wright and Co. Law Offices, and I'll raise your salary!"
"Not gonna happen, pal. I would never betray Mr. Edgeworth!" Gumshoe firmly stood his ground.
"Please," Phoenix begged. "Something terrible is about to happen. Please. I'm trying to save his life!"
"Whoa, whoa, pal. How could you even know that? What are you standing here talking to me for, then?" Gumshoe bluster quickly gave way to an earnest frown. "Aww, who am I kidding. Pal, I trust you. When you put it that way, what choice do I have? Leave it to me!"
"Thank you," Phoenix gasped as Gumshoe sprinted away. The police precinct faded to a dull sepia around him. Phoenix watched the detective's retreating back and spoke to his surroundings, heard by none save the dancing Blue Badger.
"He's not the brightest detective I know, but surely the most stalwart and loyal. Although his plans seldom work out as he intended, justice would have been lost on a number of occasions without him."
February 25, 2017, 9:05 PM
High Prosecutor's Office
Room 1202
No time has passed in Edgeworth's office of a year ago. The man himself was still glaring coldly, eyes steel-gray and chin raised in challenge. Phoenix glared back, his own hands still clenched into fists. At last, Phoenix looked away, his eyes falling on the garishly ornamented jacket decorating the wall, a small smudge darkening the edge of the frame.
The urgent knock sounding on the door startled them both. "Prosecutor, we have a situation," said the bailiff briskly. "Please come with me."
"I apologize for the interruption, Wright. We can resume this discussion when I return," Edgeworth answered immediately, breaking eye contact and ending their face-off, for now. He strode out with his usual collected, professional mask fixed perfectly in place. The door clicked shut behind him.
Thanking his lucky stars for the timely interruption, all his experience investigating crime scenes came to the forefront. His modus operandi of sneaking in without authorization while no one was around put Phoenix in familiar territory. He immediately reached under the legal pad and pulled out the note, which read Prosecutor Miles Edg—
"Damn it!" Phoenix cursed. He'd interrupted too soon. "Think," he whispered to himself. "There must be something. . . ."
I left my work in order.
"That's it!" Phoenix yelled, as he flipped through the legal pad and found a page of case and position assignments.
A hand slammed down over his, covering the legal pad. "What's it? Why are you snooping through my desk?" Edgeworth demanded, scowling darkly.
Phoenix held up the half-written note, presenting it to Edgeworth. "I know what this is. You're going to write —chooses death. I know! Please don't do it—"
"A wild accusation," Edgeworth interrupted, though his voice trembled and his face was ghostly pale.
"I also saw what's on your legal pad! You're assigning off your cases, you're setting your work in order for when you die—"
"An unfounded assumption. I could be assigning them out for a vacation. You have nothing to support your speculation."
"I. . . Miles. . . We both know you never take vacations!"
Edgeworth shrugged. "And I never lost a case either, until I did."
"Are you taking a vacation?" Phoenix pressed.
"I—Yes, I am," Edgeworth answered, avoiding Phoenix's eyes and clearly uncomfortable. "I will clarify my explanation. I assigned out my responsibilities in preparation for a vacation. You have nothing to disprove my explanation."
He was running into a dead end. He could never make his case with just words: not in court, and not here. He needed evidence. Desperately, he glanced around the room, and his eye caught on the framed suit jacket.
One more chance. One more bluff.
"This piece of evidence is all I need, if you'll let me find it," Phoenix said, slowly approaching the frame and pointing out the smudge. "You keep your office spotless. Any tiny detail out of place holds meaning. You moved this frame recently, and I know what's behind it." He lifted down the frame and revealed the secret safe hidden behind. "What's the safe number?"
"I'm not telling you that!" Edgeworth sputtered behind him.
Phoenix ignored him. "The bookends of fifteen years of darkness. The date that ended your father's life and changed the course of yours, and the case that brought it all to a close. But what if it's not a metaphor? The bookend. Not simply how the case's resolution, but the literal means to end it all. What's the safe number?" He typed in 1228, barely breathing, and heard Edgeworth gasp behind him.
In the silent room, the safe beeped once and clicked open. And inside was—
"So that's how you did it," Phoenix whispered, surveying the items within and touching the plain gray undershirt. "Weighted your body, rid all identifying objects."
"Wright—"
Phoenix's mind flew through the logical sequence of deductions. "You didn't rent a boat. No, that would've left a record. Nor could you swim out carrying these weights, and get far enough from shore. You must've jumped from a bridge. Where? It must be walking distance, you wouldn't leave your car at the scene. Must be Treacherous Bridge, which is near here and secluded at night." Phoenix's voice was rising in dismay.
"Wright—"
"So carefully planned. It just leaves me to wonder how you can be so thoughtful about this yet be so careless about everyone in your life!" He ended in an angry scream, slamming his hand against the wall.
"That's enough!" Edgeworth crowded Phoenix away from the safe and firmly closed it. "You're right, I admit it. Not tonight, and not with this plan, obviously, now that you've figured it out, but I admit it. I'm choosing death." With those words, the first lock shattered. Phoenix staggered back a step, and Edgeworth leaned against the wall, breathing hard.
"Why?" Gasped Phoenix. "Why?"
"My reasons are mine alone." Edgeworth drew himself up, gripping his arms to still their trembling.
"Tell me! Is it Gant? Von Karma? Your father? I can't fix this unless you tell me!" Phoenix demanded wildly, throwing out any name that came to mind.
Edgeworth had gone paler still, but maintained a defiant glare. "More wild speculation. I won't confirm or give credence to your bluffs."
Phoenix gaped at him, partially furious and already kicking himself, dimly aware that this conversation was going disastrously. Blindly, he backed away, putting the scene on pause before he could do any more damage and fleeing to the relative safety of the MASON console.
? ? ?
MASON System
"Good going, yelling at him about his dead father," Keith deadpanned. "I'm sure he'll open up to you now."
Phoenix buried his face in his hands. "Sorry," he said, not even trying to give an excuse. "I was agitated."
Keith snorted at that understatement. "I'll say you were. You do know those are all touchy subjects, right? What do you say we sit here and come up with a plan before you go charging in to fight him again, hmm?"
"Sounds good." Phoenix scanned over the displayed files, pondering where to begin building his case. "To refute him, first I have to understand him," he said. His eye caught on Adrian Andrews, Detention Center. "She grieved a suicide and attempted another," he thought out loud. "She may be able to understand what I don't."
"That's the spirit," Keith replied with a sigh. "Good luck." Phoenix pretended not to hear the mumbled "You'll need it."
He selected Adrian's file, and a new room shifted into view.
March 22, 2018, 6:00 PM
Detention Center
Visitor's Room
"I have no desire to talk to you," Adrian Andrews said quietly, her eyes downcast.
"Ms. Andrews, I apologize for casting you as the killer. At first the evidence did point to you, though I now see you couldn't have done it."
"The why do you keep trying to lay the blame on me?"
Phoenix thought to come up with some excuse, but after all, if she was being set up to take the fall, she at least deserved to know why. "I'm being blackmailed," he answered honestly. "My friend is being held hostage. I'm stalling for time, but I'm trying to find a way out. I know it's not an excuse. I'm doing something horribly unjust to you. But I promise you, I'm trying to find a way out without convicting you."
"You'll forgive me if I don't find that comforting, Mr. Wright. Prosecutor Von Karma told me to say nothing to you, and unlike you, she's not set on having me hanged. I have nothing to tell you."
"I'm not here to ask about the case," Phoenix said quickly. "Can we talk about something unrelated? I'm here for something else entirely. I have no right to ask this of you, but you are also my last hope. A year ago, a friend of mine committed suicide."
At that, Adrian looked up, sympathy breaking through her defensive posture. "I'm sorry," she said sincerely.
"I've been trying to understand it, what made him do it. It sounds impossible, but I may have the chance to turn back time. And that's why I'm here to ask you a horrible question. Please, why did you attempt it?"
Adrian heaved a tired sigh. "As fearful as I am of you, I recognize your grief. Indeed, your idea of turning back time makes me think you've gone mad with it. So I will help you as best I am able, and perhaps do some good as I couldn't for Celeste. You see," she continued. "I loved Celeste. It was a desperate, one-sided love, but I love her. . . always. I was, as Prosecutor Von Karma put it, co-dependent. Dependent on Celeste to be my guiding light. Without her, I was left in darkness."
"I'm sorry for your loss," Phoenix said, wincing at the trite and inadequate sound of it. "I think I understand. I went to law school to find my friend. We met in the fourth grade, but he moved away over Christmas, and I never saw him again. He didn't return any of my letters, and when I finally saw him in the newspaper, he had become someone else. It was the only way I had to contact him again. Then after fifteen years, I had just found him, and he'd helped me in some tight situations, and then he was gone. Just like that."
Adrian looked surprised at that. "You pursued him for fifteen years, after only knowing him months, including choosing your career to find him?" A small, sad smile appeared on her face. "It seems we're more similar than I thought. Are you sure you aren't co-dependent yourself, Mr. Wright?"
"I. . . ." Phoenix fell silent. It did sound incriminating, phrased like that.
"As for why your friend did it. . . My reason was that I was dependent on her, but that doesn't sound like your friend. Perhaps Celeste could've answered better than I. I wish I could ask her. I've only wondered, every day since her death." Adrian looked down again, her blue eyes brimming with tears and a bottomless grief, and Phoenix ached for her.
Against all caution, he extended a sliver of hope. "We can," he said. "Or at least, I can. There's a mechanism, some cyber-system that's letting me relive certain moments in time. And it's through this system that I might have a chance to save my friend. You must think I'm insane. Some moments I. . . I wonder if this isn't all a fever dream. But what do I have to lose? I can go ask her. But I can't promise she'll answer."
"Grief visits us with strange notions," Adrian replied doubtfully. "But whether this is real or your mind's way of searching for peace, I hope you find answers. But. . . please. . . ." Her doubt visibly giving way to a wild and desperate hope, she spoke on. "Please, if you find a way. . . please save Celeste!"
"I will do everything in my power," Phoenix promised her. "I swear it."
June 1, 2016, 10:30 PM
Worldwide Studios
Office 3
Phoenix had hesitated over the MASON's case file reading Celeste Inpax, Worldwide Studios, having never visited the place himself and not knowing what form his visit would take. He opened the case file, and the digital space around him resolved into a small office. A lovely, barefoot woman stood on a table. Phoenix's blood froze cold: she was tying a noose.
"Ms. Inpax! Stop!" He yelled in an unfamiliar squeak.
Celeste jerked, almost falling from the table. "Who's there?" She called, her voice trembling.
Phoenix looked down at his wooden arms and legs. He was the wooden bear figurine— "I'm in the bear," he called out. This was no time to fret about his physical appearance, as unusual as it was, even for him!
Celeste knelt on the table's surface and jumped down to the ground. She came over and picked up the bear, scrutinizing it closely. "Is this a vision? Or a dying hallucination of my broken mind? No matter. How may I help you, little bear?"
"I'm from the future," Phoenix blurted wildly. Oh well, he thought to himself, it's not any worse than a toy bear suddenly coming to life. His eyes caught on the noose over her shoulder. And it's a small concern next to what's about to happen. . . .
"I'm begging you not to do it," Phoenix said. "You. . . These evil men, Matt Engarde and Juan Corrida, who only care about their fame. . . they aren't worth a second of your day, let alone your life!
"How kind of you to say," Celeste replied with in a sweet, singsong voice, as if entertaining a conversation for a small child. "Rest assured I know well how petty and cruel they are. I know firsthand," she added sadly.
"Then, don't! Don't give them that sort of power. . . ."
Celeste sighed. "I'm sorry you had to see this, little bear," she said, gesturing at the room: the table with the chair waiting next to it, and the noose hanging grimly above all. "But I promise you, as horrible as this looks, it's not for them. It's the kindest future for me."
"No, it can't be."
Celeste looked into the Phoenix's bear eyes, her expression grim and serious. "Little bear, there is nothing more that's bright in my life. Everything I thought I had was built on lies and falsehoods. I believed that Matt cared for me, and later I believed the same of Juan. I thought myself a capable manager and a cherished partner, but I was merely a pawn. I believed in love, but love doesn't exist."
"What about Adrian?" The words came out in a rush.
Celeste blinked. "What about her?"
Evidence. I need evidence. "What about Adrian!" Phoenix repeated, bringing out Adrian's medical report. "She loves you. She will be lost without you."
Celeste glanced over the report, and for the first time, a flicker of doubt crossed her face. "Please give Adrian my apologies. I know it must be a shock for her mentor to take such a drastic step."
"She tries so hard to follow in your footsteps," Phoenix pressed. "She will follow you in this too—"
"I'm sorry, little bear," Celeste interrupted. "I've tried for so long to do right by others, and I have no energy left. Nothing to give me the will to live for another. I'm truly sorry," she added sincerely.
"If not to give her strength, then to let her love you," Phoenix tried.
"I. . . had not realized the nature of her feelings," Celeste said evasively.
"Can you. . . see it? Imagine it? A life with her? I'm from the future. She remains devoted to you even long after your death. She won't cast you aside."
Celeste exhaled. "Little bear, perhaps I could have been happy with her. Who's to say? But it's too late for me. All I feel for her is gratitude. . . gratitude and guilt. No yearning to stay my hand." She shook her head regretfully. "Perhaps if we'd had time to grow close before it came to all this. Something real in another world, another timeline."
"It's not too late—"
"It is," Celeste interrupted firmly. "I'm sorry, little bear. I'll spare you the sight, though I can't shield you from the sound. Good-bye, little bear. Thank you for being so kind, a last kindness to close out my time on this Earth." She placed the wooden bear back on the shelf, turned facing away from the waiting noose. Distantly, he heard the scrape of a chair being set upon the table.
"No!" Phoenix tried to speak, but no sound spilled from his wooden mouth. The room was changing color, taking on the sepia of an old photograph, and then he was hunched over the console again, fists clenched and face wet. Celeste's case file was resolutely closed and grayed on the screen, cold and uncaring as he jabbed at it time and again. At last, he began to talk to the unyielding screen, speaking the words Celeste would never hear.
"She was a gentle person who didn't deserve her fate. Though she was too shrouded in despair to see any future, still she gave me answers, handing me a key to my own path. I wish I could have saved her."
March 22, 2018, 5:00 PM
District Court
Plaintiff Lobby No. 3
"What does the fool of a defense attorney want?" Franziska von Karma spat, twisting her whip restlessly in her hands and looking anywhere but at Phoenix.
"Prosecutor von Karma. I'm not here to argue. I have some questions about Edge—Yowch!" Phoenix jumped back from the whip lashing out at his face.
"You have no right to speak his name," Franziska burst out in a fury. "Not when you're the fool that ripped everything he built to shreds!" She cracked her whip menacingly.
"What I did?" Phoenix repeated, incredulous. "All I did was prove his innocence!"
"He believed in his mission, to protect the innocent by putting the guilty behind bars," Franziska retorted. "After you came along, he foolishly lost sight of that. . . of everything! You took it from him by ruining everything he knew—"
"I took—What about what Manfred Von Karma took, by shooting his father?" Phoenix yelled in outrage. "That's where you should point your—your finger and your whip!"
"Soon after, he. . . he. . . ." Franziska ignored him completely, her shoulders shaking and her furious words wavering, and Phoenix abruptly realized she was holding back tears.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly.
Silence fell between them, punctuated only by Franziska's uneven breaths. With an effort, she forced her breathing steady.
"You're right, of course," she said abruptly through clenched teeth. "Of course you're right. How could I not know where the blame lies? I'm no fool." She took a deep, shuddering breath, and went on. "His purpose and his ambition were all built on an illusion, and when that shattered. . . he wished he'd never become a prosecutor. He foolishly told me that, you know."
"I. . . I can't imagine. . . ."
"Of course you can't. Then, when that fool Gant's forgeries were revealed. The perfect trials. . . the forged evidence. . . he didn't even have the illusion of helping people. And he told me. . . he wished papa had shot him instead," she said, her voice trembling. "And a fool like you could never understand what it's like. . . to hear that. . . from your little brother. . . ." Franziska's words broke apart, and she bent her head down and sobbed.
"I'm sorry. You truly did care about him," Phoenix said softly, wondering.
"You know nothing," Franziska mumbled, the words carrying more grief than insult.
"Even so, I may be able to save him. You have no reason to trust me, and I'm saying something impossible, but I have a chance to speak to him again in the past. And anything you tell me helps. If I understand him, I may have a chance to turn it around."
Franziska took a step back, clutching her whip to her chest. "You really have lost it," she gasped. "You're more affected than I thought. No matter. I was harsh with him, but I love my foolish little brother," she declared fiercely. "And I won't let you hurt him, not even in your delusions. Go talk to him if you must imagine such a foolish thing. But take good care of him, or I will make you suffer."
"I will. Umm, what do you mean take care of him?" Phoenix asked, unsure what he'd just promised.
Franziska rolled her eyes. "That's your fool complex, isn't it? You chase after him foolishly trying to save him. Don't you dare fail again."
The scene turned gray and flat around him, Franziska captured standing straight and proud, her eyes glittering with unshed tears. Phoenix whispered to her image as he walked away.
"For all her harsh and cruel persona, from the depths of her heart, she loves and grieves her brother as much as I. I won't fail her."
Dec 31, 2001, 7:00 pm
Police Precinct
Questioning Room
He wished papa had shot him instead.
"Gregory Edgeworth would never have wanted that," Phoenix mumbled, blinking as the room came into focus. "He would never want to live instead of his son, no matter how much good he could accomplish."
He was sitting at a plain table in a spartan room, and someone sat across from him. He took in the purple robe of a Kurain spirit medium. His eyes traveled further up, settling on the person's face. Phoenix gasped. It was a face he hadn't seen since childhood, set incongruously on a woman's body.
"Thank you for answering my questions," he heard himself say, his voice rough and strange. He looked down. He was clothed in a detective's uniform.
"I hope this information helps you bring my killer to justice," Gregory Edgeworth answered grimly, leaning forward as if to stand.
"Wait!" Phoenix cried, slamming a palm on the table and startling the senior Edgeworth. "Sorry," Phoenix said, quieter. "Please wait. I'm Phoenix Wright," he continued, blurting out the first thing that came to mind.
"I beg your pardon?" Gregory looked confused. "Phoenix is a child in my son's class. Perhaps you are his father. But I thought you said your name was Detective Drew."
"Mr. Edgeworth, I am the same Phoenix Wright, and I've entered this moment from the future. It may seem hard to believe, but it's no more improbable than you yourself being here at this very moment, from beyond the grave."
"Ah. There are more mysteries to this world than I had imagined. How may I help you, Phoenix?" Gregory asked, his tone warm and open, and a Phoenix was abruptly hit by the weight of his death. He was just as he remembered, and not for the first time, Phoenix ached for his friend.
Swallowing past the lump in his throat, Phoenix began to talk, spilling out the entire course of the future. Gregory Edgeworth's true killer, Miles's adoption by Von Karma, and his rise as the Demon Prosecutor. He then told about with his own role, about becoming a defense attorney, and the cases they worked together. The case that cleared Miles's name and brought Von Karma to justice, and the case that followed, where together they had chased the clues with the narrowest of margins and uncovered Gant's grisly deed. Gregory listened quietly, occasionally nodding or giving a thoughtful hum.
Phoenix ended with Edgeworth's death. A heavy silence fell between them.
"I see," Gregory said quietly. "I feared that my passing would be terrible for Miles, though even I did not suspect the horrors that await him. But to kill himself. . . that is unimaginable."
"He always remembered and admired you," Phoenix said. "To have become the opposite of you, a prosecutor, it was too much for him to bear."
"That's where you're wrong, you and he both," Gregory replied. "Von Karma is my opposite: A selfish man using the law for selfish reasons, for his record rather than for justice. One who hurts rather than protects. It is for this reason that we defense attorneys exist. So that those who are alone and helpless can have an ally on their side," he recited.
"Miles left the side of the alone and helpless, and he will not be quick to forgive himself."
"I'm not finished. That's only the half of it. The prosecutors are not the enemy. Without prosecution, there is no case and no defense. Indeed, the prosecution has a tremendous responsibility to connect the clues and indict the culprit before the truth is lost. Defense attorneys and the prosecution should work together to discover the truth," Gregory pronounced, reciting again.
"He does," Phoenix said, suddenly remembering Edgeworth on the cusp of victory, grasping at straws to keep Dee Vasquez on the stand. "He will stop at nothing to find the truth, even if he loses the case." I was hoping I'd come up with a question while I was objecting, Your Honor. . . I didn't, Edgeworth had said, ridiculously, and Phoenix couldn't help the affectionate smile that crept over his face and the spark igniting in his chest.
With it came a towering wave of grief that crashed into him and took his breath away.
Sitting across the table, Gregory watched him closely, his eyes fire-bright. Slowly, he squared his shoulders and raised his chin. "I am proud of the prosecutor my son is becoming, a servant of the truth," he announced in a voice ringing with conviction.
Still breathless with loss, his clenched fist pressed to his chest, Phoenix could do no more than nod.
In the meantime, Gregory seemed to come to a realization. "The future is not set in stone. Perhaps I can spare Miles fifteen years of torment, and stop the harm that I caused Yogi by my mistake. I must tell Detective Drew. I must. . . No! No! Nnnnggggghhh!"
The atmosphere in the room suddenly shifted, and Gregory slumped forward, bathed in glowing light. A moment later, a lovely, familiar woman raised her head.
"Detective, I hope he was able to answer your questions," Misty Fey said, her voice gentle and professional.
Phoenix found himself frozen and unable to answer, and instead Detective Drew's voice rang out. "Certainly, he was quite helpful. Thank you for your service," he answered as Phoenix was pulled away from the fading, graying room. Now at a distance, he spoke to where Gregory had disappeared.
"Your son does indeed grow to be brilliant and accomplished, but for all his acclaim, he never stopped missing you. Though he had given up hope of following in your footsteps, to walk beside your example on the same path, that would be everything to him. And to hear that you are proud of him, even more."
June 21, 2017, 9:55 AM
District Court
Defendant Lobby No. 3
Like watching an old video of himself, he listened to his conversation with Maya.
"Mr. Eh-ji-werth? Who is that?" Pearl had asked, and Maya had replied, "Um, he's Nick's rival. . . Well, he's also a friend."
Phoenix felt his past self freeze, caught off-guard by Edgeworth's name.
"I still remember him as if I had just seen him only yesterday," Maya continued. "Every trial was a scorching fierce battle until the very end."
The last time he was here, the pain had smashed into his unguarded heart, and he had lashed out—
"It was always back and forth with them. But when you're rivals for life. . . ."
Don't mention that name ever again, he remembered saying, the jagged ache in his chest spilling into the harshness in his voice, as if wiping his name from conversation could erase the pain from his memories. Those words rose again to the tip of his tongue, and he swallowed them down. After all, hadn't fifteen years of buried secrets brought Edgeworth to the brink despair and beyond?
It was time to let the pain speak.
"Maya, there is something I need to tell you," he said gravely. "Pearls, could you go on ahead please?"
Pearl looked to Maya, who nodded. "Ok, see you in there," Pearl said, disappearing into the courtroom with a small, worried glance back.
Now alone with Phoenix, Maya let her cheerful façade fall, replaced by an expression of concern. "Nick, you look like you've seen a ghost. Did something happen?"
"I'm sorry, Maya," Phoenix began. "Mr. Edgeworth is dead. He killed himself a year—no, a few months ago."
Maya's eyes had gone wide and shocked, a hand raised to her mouth. "Nick... I'm so sorry. I had no idea."
"It's not your fault. You didn't know, and I never told you. I've tried so hard to forget about it, about him, or I'll drown in it all. It's easier not to remember. And though it dulls the pain, I still feel like a part of me died with him."
"I understand that!" Maya exclaimed. "A part of me will always miss Mia. Sis and I, we grew up together. With our mother gone, she was my sister and my protector and my idol all at once, that can never be replaced! Sort of like you and Mr. Edgeworth in the courtroom. When you faced off against each other, you were you at your brightest, your sharpest, your most Phoenix Wright self."
"Yeah. He brought that out in me. Did you know, last year while you were training in Kurain Village, I faced him on a case. He did so much to bring out the truth. When I was backed into a corner, Miles. . . He was amazing! He accused the Chief of Police, whom everyone feared, who had killed two people at least! He had no fear for himself, none at all. He was so brave and dazzling."
"Don't get a big head, but you're pretty dazzling yourself. Weren't you the one who cross-examined a parrot?" Maya chuckled.
"I guess I was." Phoenix had to laugh too at the memory.
"That's why he could say it: He trusted you to back him up!"
"And I did, but it was so close there! We were on the razor's edge of losing, so many times. And it took both of our strengths. Him taking the lead when I had nothing left—"
"And you doing the same for him."
"Yeah." Phoenix smiled. "Sometimes I feel like we're two halves of a team, even though he's the prosecution."
"You complement each other, like a pair of dancers," Maya said, grinning.
"Like two voices in a duet," Phoenix agreed.
"Like two peas sharing a pod."
"Like two people sharing a soul."
Phoenix froze, startled at what he had just said. Maya was giving him a knowing look, the beginnings of a smile starting, before she abruptly remembered, and the smile plummeted from her face.
"I tried so hard not to think about him, I never realized how much I miss him," he whispered brokenly.
"Oh Nick. . . ." Maya looked about on the verge of tears herself.
"He is half of my soul, as the poets say."
"Nick. . . ."
"I. . . I just realized something." As the feeling crystalized in his chest, at once freeing and haunted, Phoenix felt his whole body trembling, followed by a sharp crack in his chest. The magatama was warm in his pocket.
Maya's lip trembled, and she flung her arms around him. "I don't need to be holding a magatama to know what that was." She said gently, rubbing circles on his back, holding him until the bell rang announcing the start start of the court session. Finally, she drew back and offered him a shaky smile. "If you ever want to channel him, I'm right here."
"Thanks, I might take you up on that," Phoenix said, struggling valiantly to return the smile, and only managing to look even more forlorn. "But for now, let's get you cleared of all charges, ok?"
"Oh, right!" Maya said, suddenly remembering her situation. "You're always getting me out of messes, but I'm here for you too, ok? I'll help you through this." She gave him a last quick hug, before walking resolutely into the courtroom, her slight figure and the lobby fading into gray.
Pulled away from the scene, Phoenix spoke to her still image, standing sure and proud.
"You were still a teenager when we met, but already so strong, and my best friend in the world. Thank you for being my support, even when I am lost in darkness."
February 25, 2017, 9:30 PM
High Prosecutor's Office
Room 1202
For the third time, Phoenix re-entered the past Edgeworth's office, the scene coming to life as he stumbled backwards, away from a grimacing and tense Edgeworth, his angry accusations still echoing in the air. He caught his balance and waited for his breathing to slow.
"I'm sorry," Phoenix said into the stillness.
Edgeworth didn't react. He stood unmoving, statue-like, this face fixed in that pained expression that Phoenix regretted causing.
"I'm sorry," Phoenix repeated. "I shouldn't have started throwing out names like that, or mentioned your father. He—Gregory Edgeworth, I know the weight his name carries with you even all these years later."
If anything, Edgeworth grew even more tense, and Phoenix's heart sank. "Wright," Edgeworth began, seeming to gather himself. "I. . . I owe it to you to explain. You did catch me writing a suicide note, after all. I understand these aren't normal circumstances. I know you well enough to know that no explanation will be adequate in your eyes, but I will try."
Phoenix nodded, his throat too tight to speak.
Edgeworth continued slowly. "It's like this. When I was a child, everything made sense. And when father died, that sensible, structured world, the clear future, it was all an illusion. Von Karma gave me a different vision that also made sense. To make the world safer by putting murderers away. Or so I thought. . . how grotesque," he finished bitterly.
"Everything you had was built on lies and falsehoods," Phoenix said softly, echoing, Celeste's words.
"Yes, I suppose that's it," Edgeworth said, nodding. "The murderer teaching me to hunt murderers, when all along his true goal was to destroy my father's legacy. Then when Gant's forgery came to light. . . I couldn't even pretend to myself that any part of my work was honest. I couldn't even trust myself anymore. . . ." Edgeworth curled in on himself as a red lock shattered. "And they succeeded in twisting me. . . into the worst monster. . . my father. . . ." He trailed off, gripping his arm hard enough to bruise.
"He's proud of you," Phoenix said firmly.
Edgeworth looked up, startled and angry, and incredulous most of all. "Don't you dare speak for him. My father is on the side of the downtrodden. The alone and helpless," he growled, and the phrasing triggered something in Phoenix's memory, the next words spilling forth like sunlight after a storm, or a message from the past.
"Defense attorneys and the prosecution should work together to discover the truth," Phoenix recited, filling the words with all of Gregory cadence and intonation as he could muster, willing the message to pass through him from father to son, and Edgeworth stumbled, arms falling to his sides and mouth opening in shock. "He sees you pursuing the truth with all that you have and all that you are. He is proud of you," Phoenix repeated, and Edgeworth gasped as another psychelock splintered and fell away.
"Of course he would be," Edgeworth muttered to himself, tears filling his eyes. "He is my father after all, and he always sees the best in me. But the truth is, I've done a great harm, wrought injustice, used lies to put people behind bars." As he spoke, the next lock began to darken, streaks of black threading through the crimson. Edgeworth's next words grated harshly in his throat. "Nothing can give recourse to those I've hurt, those I've unjustly convicted. The world would have been better if I had never been born!"
Franziska was right, hearing that is horrible, horrible, horrible—
"Hold it! Stop right there, Miles. You listen to me." Phoenix determinedly pointed his finger across the room. "I can prove to you that's not true. Franziska. Your sister! She loves you! She needs you beside her. You're the only family she has left."
"Franziska?" Edgeworth laughed derisively. "How unfortunate for her, to finally be freed from her miserable fool of a brother. Did you know she has connections to Interpol? She's not like her father. Free to focus on her own career, she will put all her might into protecting the innocent, as she protected me. No, Franziska will be sad, but she'll survive. Von Karmas always do."
Despite his best efforts, Phoenix flew into a rage. "You'll still put her through it? You're unbelievable! Do you even love her? Don't answer that. Instead, tell me this. What about me? Will I survive?"
Edgeworth raised a condescending eyebrow. "You would survive most of all. I'm the most sure of you, out of everyone. You're indefatigable and unbeatable. You're the strongest person I've ever met." He spoke matter-of-factly, the words a simple truth obvious to anyone: Clearly anyone who wasn't half a fool could see that Phoenix was justice itself, and the pure admiration of it left Phoenix speechless.
Caught between blossoming warmth and burning fury, his planned and careful arguments went flying from his head, and in their place, his raw, rambling thoughts came pouring out. "Yes, I'll survive, but why would I want to? I love you." He took a lurching step forward, and then another. "In another world I never said it, and spent a lifetime regretting, so I'm saying it now: Miles Edgeworth, you selfish jerk, I love you." Edgeworth's eyes widened, the pooled tears spilling out as the black-tinged lock dissolved. "Don't go where I can't follow," Phoenix whispered, reaching forward the last few inches, grabbing the ruffles of his jabot and giving a sharp tug. Caught off balance, Edgeworth fell forward, and Phoenix leaned in, and their mouths crashed together.
Edgeworth stood frozen in shock. Phoenix deepened the rough and desperate kiss, coaxing Edgeworth to respond, and after a few seconds that felt like an eternity, he did, their mouths finding each other, fitting as perfectly as their push-and-pull in court. Phoenix groaned, his free hand that wasn't crushing the jabot coming up to caress the back of his head—
Edgeworth shoved him away and stumbled three steps back, backing into the windowsill, back away from the hurricane that was Phoenix in his office, scrambling his head, upending his life, and throwing him into turmoil. "You really will do anything to convince me, won't you?" He whispered, panting for breath, eyes hardening into steel. "I'm not fooled. Go away."
"Miles. . . it—it must mean something to you. . . ."
"It means nothing," Edgeworth said, cold and resolute.
"Miles—"
GO AWAY!" Edgeworth screamed wildly at him. "Before I call security," he added, low and dangerous.
"I—"
Edgeworth reached for his phone.
"Damn you, Miles, I'm not giving up. I'll wait on the bridge all night if I have to!"
"Out."
The moment Phoenix passed through the door, the hall began to yellow, taking on the familiar and faded sepia cast. "No," Phoenix gasped, reaching forward to grab onto—anything—and closed on empty air. Edgeworth's door dissolved beneath his hand. "No! I need more time! NO!"
The last thing he saw before the office disappeared was Edgeworth frowning and clutching his arm, a tiny, desolate figure outlined against the uncaring walls and the vast city, alone.
? ? ?
MASON System
"NO! SHIT! NO!" Phoenix pounded at the case file furiously, the screen flickering and pulsing under his fist. The case file shuddered but remained stubbornly closed. "Please," Phoenix begged the uncaring screen, bringing both fists down with a crash. "Please," Phoenix whispered again. Bent over the console, he dissolved into wrenching sobs, tears spilling down his face and blurring the gray labels.
When he looked up some time later, shaking and exhausted, Keith was watching him. "So you couldn't spare Miles the bitter childhood, nor save Yogi from ruin, nor save Inpax from her despair" he said, his expression uncharacteristically serious.
"No. I could not," Phoenix sniffled.
"I didn't expect you could, though I hoped" Keith explained gently, touching the console. "I don't entirely understand the inner workings of this system. But there are some rules it is unable to break. It can't alter events so much that it prevents its own creation." He smiled sadly down at the screen. "In a way, Yogi's fate was sealed the moment the MASON was created."
"And Miles?" Phoenix asked, dreading the answer.
"That remains to be seen."
"It's over," Phoenix said, dejected. "I've visited all eight case files, and learned from each, but in the end I couldn't convince him."
Keith waved at the remaining files. "And yet there are still paths available to you. As such, there may yet be a future for him."
Surprised, Phoenix looked back at the screen. It was true, two of the files were still glowing a soft white. Shakily, he exhaled and dragged a hand over his face. "I won't give up," he said grimly. "Not until I exhaust every last possibility."
March 22, 2018, 6:20 PM
Detention Center
Visitor's Room
"I'm sorry, Ms. Andrews," Phoenix said quietly. "I did everything in my power to change Ms. Inpax's mind. In the end, I couldn't. I'm so sorry."
Adrian's expression crumpled, a mirror to the ruin in his heart, but when she spoke, her tone was kind. "Do not blame yourself. If her mind was set, there was little a stranger such as you could do to change it."
"I. . . I know I'm a stranger. I asked her to stay for—for a life with you, knowing you would never betray her." The words hurt to say, and their implication even more to hear.
Adrian did not seem surprised. "I knew my feelings were unrequited. Celeste dated Matt and became engaged to Juan. She had no eyes for me. She was also the most meticulous and thoughtful person I've ever met. She, well, let's just say she didn't make decisions lightly, nor change them." Adrian's voice was rich with love and grief, and Phoenix felt the familiar stab in his own chest.
"Miles was the same," he said. "Meticulous in court and polished every minute of his life. Single-mindedly determined. Even at the end. He planned every step of it so carefully, to vanish cleanly and leave his affairs in order. Only, he never considered how very loved he was. He never knew."
"You couldn't change his mind either," Adrian said. It wasn't a question.
"No. I couldn't." They sat together, on opposite sides of the glass, companions in grief.
Phoenix broke the silence. "Ms. Andrews, what will happen to you now? Celeste is still gone. But you won't try it again, will you? You never did again after that time. What kept you going?"
"Revenge." Adrian looked curiously back at him. "I did say that in my cross-examination, didn't I? I lived to make Matt and Juan feel a fraction of the pain that Celeste suffered."
Phoenix swallowed, hesitating on the next question. But if the answer was—if he could stop it— "Now that you've gotten your revenge, will you keep living?" He held his breath, waiting.
"Yes," Adrian answered almost immediately.
"You've found someone else to love?"
"No. I will always love Celeste." A shining tear slipped down Adrian's face, but she held herself proudly. "When you love someone, you never truly move on. You learn to live with the heartache. Only, now that I'm stronger, I can see it more clearly. I don't think she'd be proud of me, if I stopped fighting. You'll remember that, won't you, Mr. Wright?" She asked abruptly, fixing Phoenix in a sharp stare.
"I will," he promised.
Adrian nodded, seeming satisfied with his answer. "I just wish I could've been Celeste's reason, given her strength to keep fighting. Maybe if I'd told her sooner, we could've grown closer before. . . before all this. Tomorrow, I kept telling myself. Tomorrow, tomorrow. If we'd had time to build something enduring, even as friends. Then I might've meant something to her, when she ruthlessly weighed the worth of her life. I thought I had so much time, all the time in the world. . . when there was still tomorrow. . . ." Her words broke into muffled sobs, tears flowing freely.
"Don't blame yourself, Ms. Andrews. You couldn't have expected tomorrow to be so different."
"Tomorrow is made today, Mr. Wright," Adrian responded, shaking her head. Phoenix shivered, the words ringing in his ear and through his head. His mind turned their prophetic sound this way and that, uneasily, searching for the hidden meaning, the missing puzzle piece.
The room was fading into yellows and grays around him. "Then please, when all this is over, shape a better tomorrow for yourself," Phoenix whispered before he was pulled entirely away. Out of hearing range, he continued to speak to Adrian's image.
"Your chapter with Celeste has come to an end, but your story has not. You can become someone capable, and perhaps even happy. You have more strength than you know."
? ? ?
MASON System
Tomorrow is made today.
It wasn't enough. One last conversation, the last night before the end. It wasn't enough.
Tomorrow is made today.
But hadn't he tried? Years of letters, years of law school, taking Edgeworth's case when no other attorney would touch it.
Tomorrow is made—
He had done his best in every timeline for Edgeworth, made every effort to change his fate except telling him—
—today.
March 22, 2018, 4:45 PM
District Court
Defendant Lobby No. 3
The present day came into focus around him, the ghostly Edgeworth giving him a withering glare.
"There's something I need to tell you," Phoenix began. "I wish I could have told you under different circumstances, when we both had a future. But I couldn't save you. I couldn't change your mind, or save Mr. Yogi or Ms. Inpax. I never could, all along, could I? Not by facing you in court, nor by defending you. Everything I've tried to do, I've failed step of the way, haven't I? But if this is the last time I ever speak to you, at least I want you to know—"
"You're rambling," Edgeworth broke in. "In any case, there's something I need to tell you: I loved you."
"You. . . what?"
"I said I loved you. And I still do. Are your ears broken or is your language comprehension lacking?"
"But. . . ." Phoenix floundered, trying to make sense of the confession. "Why are you telling me this, now that it's too late to do anything about it?"
"I couldn't let you go on thinking yourself a failure. Even if it didn't change my ultimate decision, you were my. . . my shining light in my last months," Edgeworth said, looking deeply embarrassed. He plowed on valiantly. "It was only the stupid sight of you that made my last days bearable."
"But you didn't a year ago. I tried to stop you—your past self—the night of your. . . death. I thought that I could save you, right? But there in your office. . . you weren't in love with me, and my feelings didn't make an ounce of difference."
"I was lying," the present Edgeworth said simply. "I've been in love with you since you defended me. Ergo, I must have been lying." He shrugged. "No point hiding it from you, now that I'm dead."
"But. . . if you did love me, why couldn't I change your mind?"
"Because—" Edgeworth paused, arranging his thoughts carefully. "At the time, I believed you'd be better off had you never met me. All I'd done was burden you and almost get you convicted of murder. And executed." He turned away then, looking pained. "But I was wrong. Since I was channeled for this case. . . I don't have enough time or information, such as it were. But if I were flesh and blood. . . you don't have to choose between the truth and Maya. I can forge a path. And if I can help you out of this mess, it will be worth suffering through another year of existence. Even if it's a year of humiliation, now that you know of my one-sided feelings—"
"No!" Phoenix burst out. "Not one-sided. That's what I've come to tell you. I was a fool, and I didn't realize. . . I didn't realize!" Phoenix laughed bitterly. "I messed up. Tomorrow is made today. I should've told you sooner, and then you might have believed me, that night a year ago. Your past self was convinced that I was just saying it to just to change his—your—mind. You locked your door to me. I've used up all my chances."
"Don't be so sure," Edgeworth said. "All the things you've done: becoming an attorney, defending me against von Karma, working Lana's case together. . . the seeds are planted. Trust in what your past self set into motion. I never could let things lie with you. My past self may surprise you." A faint breeze fluttered around him, the sign of Pearl's flagging energy.
"Wait, Miles, don't go!" Helplessly, Phoenix called after Edgeworth's fleeing spirit. "I love you too!"
"Thank you, Phoenix. Those are the words I've dreamed of hearing. Whatever happens next, or before, I can die happy." With those words, a beam of light rose up around Edgeworth, blocking him from view, and when it faded, little Pearl stood in his place, swaying.
"Pearls!" Phoenix jumped forward and swept her up in a hug. "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine, Mr. Nick," Pearl replied, tired but cheery. "So did Mr. Eh-ji-werth help you and Mystic Maya?"
"He did! Thank you, Pearls. You did great! We'll rescue Mystic Maya, and then we'll all go home together, alright?"
"Alright." Pearl nodded sleepily, and the courtroom began to fade. Dimly, Phoenix wondered if this was what returning to the spirit world was like for Edgeworth. As the lobby disappeared from view, he made a solemn promise.
"Miles, wait for me. I'm going to make things right."
? ? ?
MASON System
He was not alone. Keith stood next to him at the console, frowning, deep in thought. Phoenix studied Keith's long black hair spilling out from under the knit beanie, and the uncanny posture.
All eight files were shaded a dark foreboding gray.
"So that's it. I lost. I failed." Phoenix's voice echoed strangely in the empty space. He ran his finger over the eight gray files on the screen. "I've exhausted every option. No routes left to try. No open doors. . . not unless Miles has a change of heart." He clenched his fists on the console as his tears began to fall hard and fast on the screen.
"Hey now, don't cry. Smile. The only time a lawyer can cry is when it's all over," Keith chided.
"What?" At that, Phoenix looked up.
"It's not over yet, right? You're still here."
"You heard him." Phoenix pointed to the gray case file for Miles Edgeworth, High Prosecutor's Office. "He never wants to talk to me again."
"You just need to turn things around," Keith said. Phoenix blinked.
"You sound just like my mentor. Ok, think. Turn things around. I can't seek him out again. . . ."
"Then wait for him to seek you out."
"Wait for him to seek me out," Phoenix repeated, thinking furiously.
A faint click from the console interrupted his thoughts. Phoenix looked down at the display. Phoenix Wright, Treacherous Bridge had appeared in the middle of the screen, lit up in glowing blue. "What's this?" he breathed, wondering.
"A new file, neither past nor present. A moment that didn't exist. . . until now. As in your trials, you have forestalled the verdict by one day. Make the most of this borrowed time."
Not tonight, and not with this plan, obviously.
"Yes," Phoenix whispered. "I've bought us some time. But. . . I don't have a plan."
Keith smiled at that. "When have you ever gone into a trial with the full picture?"
"I suppose you have a point," Phoenix conceded.
"Trust in your investigation, and trust in your evidence," Keith continued. "You've done all you can. The rest. . . that is up to you."
Phoenix looked back at the screen, re-reading those words: Treacherous Bridge. "What will I find there?" He asked.
The shadowy gamemaster did not respond. Phoenix looked up and saw that he was alone.
February 26, 2017, 12:00 AM
Rushing River
Treacherous Bridge
I'm not giving up. I'll wait on the bridge all night if I have to!
"He can't possibly mean that," Miles Edgeworth muttered under his breath, speeding along the narrow streets at double the speed limit, and knowing full well that stubborn, impulsive, Wright definitely meant that. He careened into the mud next to Treacherous Bridge, threw open the car door, and stepped into the sleet and freezing rain—
There! Standing defiantly across from him, swaying in the fierce winds and soaked through, was—
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?" Miles heard himself yelling.
"I'M HERE TO STOP YOU!" Wright yelled back, absurdly.
Miles crept forward cautiously. "I told you I wasn't going to try anything tonight! What's your plan anyway? I could just step off over here, and you couldn't do a thing."
Wright had the grace to look sheepish. "I dunno. I guess I was just going to run over and tackle you."
Miles scoffed. "This is the worst, half-baked plan you've ever concocted, and you've gone into a number of trials with some truly bizarre ideas. Did you ride your bike here? Come, get down from that bridge and let's get you dried off."
Wright deliberated a long moment. Finally, he nodded and broke into a grin.
At that moment, a great gust of wind sent the bridge swaying and rocking. With one breath, Wright was taking a first hesitant step towards Miles, eyes bright and mouth turning into the beginnings of a smile, and the next he was tossed into the air, his body hurtling towards the darkness below, a flash of lightning bathing the scene in horribly vivid light and burning it into Miles's memory, freezing his heart in his chest. The lightning faded, and Phoenix vanished with it, pitched over the edge by the storm.
"PHOENIX!" Miles howled, tearing through the sleet and throwing himself onto the bridge, leaning wildly over the edge where he'd disappeared, and nearly fainted with relief: He was there, one hand grasping a wooden plank, barely holding on. Miles reached for his flailing free hand, catching Phoenix's fingers, slippery with rain and sleet, their hands connecting for a brief second before tearing apart. He grabbed a second time, and this time managed to catch Phoenix around his wrist. He heaved with all his strength, grunting and groaning, and slowly hauled Phoenix back onto the rickety planks, and then off the bridge back onto solid ground.
They collapsed together in a heap in the cold mud, Miles with his arms thrown around Phoenix's torso, crushing him to his chest and his whole body shaking. Phoenix held him back, tucking his face in Miles's neck, his breath a sigh against his ear, warm and so alive, and Miles began to cry, great, heaving sobs, his tears running into Phoenix's hair and mixing with the falling rain.
February 26, 2017, 1:30 AM
Gatewater Hotel
Apartment 105
Phoenix fidgeted with the teacup (embroidered porcelain) in his hands, wearing Miles's button-down shirt (crisply ironed), having just freshly showered in his apartment, after being brought there by the man himself. He took a sip of Miles's tea. The label read Ingwertee.
"This is. . . very nice tea," Phoenix tried. He felt ridiculous. "Very fancy," he said.
Miles pinched the bridge of his nose for what felt like a solid minute. "It's just ginger tea," he said. "It's good for warming you up when you've been. . . well."
"Ah. Thank you. I'm very warm now." It was true: Phoenix was flushed through his face and to the tips of his ears. He winced. All that time he'd been pacing on the bridge, thinking, and he'd prepared some wildly grandiose speeches, but none seemed to fit his present predicament, and instead he was sitting on Miles's (plain silk) couch, making the most awkward small talk of his life.
He could not have imagined how this day would turn out.
The clock ticked. Miles coughed.
"Thank you," Phoenix said, breaking the silence. He still didn't know what to say, but it couldn't hurt to start with the simple and the obvious. He had a feeling that was a good starting point for both of them. "I'm sorry. I was careless."
"It was. . . ." It was nothing, Miles tried to say, and couldn't get the words out: It was everything. "You are—" he tried again, ridiculous on the tip of his tongue, and instead what came spilling out was "—everything. The moment when you disappeared. . . just remembering it makes me tremble. . . ." He trailed off, curled in on himself, distressed.
Phoenix inched closer on the couch. "I know. God, Miles, I know! When you. . . died. . . that's how I felt every day for a year. And tonight when you threw me out of your office, when I thought it was only a matter of time before you pulled it off again!"
Miles nodded. "Like your heart is being dashed against jagged shoals," he whispered.
In the ensuing silence, Miles looked up to see Phoenix staring at him, eyes wide and bright and so fond it made his throat ache.
"So you do understand," Phoenix breathed. "It does mean something to you."
Miles pulled back at that, tense and frightened. "I can't admit to that, Phoenix," he protested weakly, a last defense against the unknown. "How can I possibly? The moment I say it, you'll feel obligated to take me into your care. . . and your heart."
"Would that be so terrible?" Phoenix pressed. "To let me show you care and love, and stand by your side as you fight back against what von Karma and Gant did to you? To lean on me for support?"
"How can I live just to be a burden?" Miles shook his head minutely. "I refuse to be a sandbag around your ankle, a chain around your neck. Another victim for you to save."
"I. . . Miles. . . ." Phoenix ground to a halt, reaching for the words with the power to breach this impenetrable defiance, wrought from fifteen years of solitude and shame. No words came to fill the chasm. Perhaps there were none.
Perhaps he'd come so close just to reach a dead end once again.
You just need to turn things around.
I can forge a path.
"I've been going about it all wrong," Phoenix whispered to himself. "But I understand. I understand now, Miles," he said out loud, taking both his hands in his own. Across from him, Miles tensed but didn't pull away. "You don't need me protect you or save you. But I need you. You saved me tonight. You saved Will and Lana. Without you, the truth would have been lost; I couldn't do it alone. And in the future you'll save me again, someday soon. Where I'm from, Maya is in danger, and you. . . you'll save her. I can't do it alone, Miles."
"Phoenix. . . ." Miles said softly, barely a whisper. "You know I'll do anything for you."
"Not if you're gone." Phoenix thought again of Keith, the familiar words and the familiar long hair. He swallowed. "I think something happened after. The one who sent me here. . . it was me as a channeled spirit. Something took me down in the alternate future."
"I. . . I wasn't there to stop it," Miles breathed, horror-struck. "I won't let that happen. Because. . . you are dear to me."
The last psyche-lock trembled. "Go on," Phoenix whispered.
"Because I l—love you," Miles stammered, hot tears springing forth as the last lock shattered and dissolved. Phoenix cautiously reached out and pulled him against his chest. "I love you," he said again, the words muffled into Phoenix's shoulder.
"And I love you," Phoenix replied, dropping feathery kisses into his hair. "With you by my side, we can fight the darkness, whatever form it takes." He caught Miles's chin in a gentle hand and tilted his face up, and drank in the naked happiness flickering to life in his eyes, the joy he was daring to feel for what must have been the first time in fifteen years, fifteen long, dark years of solitude. Their lips met in a rolling kiss, deep and warm and slow, sharing between them all the trials of the past and the promise of a future to-be-written.
Miles broke them apart, laughing shakily. "To think this all came out because Gumshoe interrupted me at the office over a lost badge!"
"Oh, is that what he told you?" Phoenix laughed too. "I sent him to distract you."
"I knew something was up," Miles said. "He was acting so shifty, saying someone stole it and the whole department was in danger."
"Please don't be too mad at him," Phoenix chuckled. "He did it to save you."
"Yes, I'm aware. I'll have to give him a raise before I disappear for a while—No, not like that!" He quickly protested, seeing Phoenix's expression. "It's just that I can't alter your timeline too much, or you'll return to an unfamiliar world. But I'll come back to when you're from. I'll find you."
On an impulse, Phoenix held out his hand, pinky finger extended. "Promise?"
Miles reached forward and interlocked their pinkies together. "Promise."
As the room faded to gray, Phoenix looked down at the still image of their joined fingers, bright and eager as school-children, the memory worn and treasured. He smiled and spoke as the scene dissolved in a shower of sparks.
"I'll be waiting, Miles. I love you."
Epilogue
March 22, 2018, 4:30 PM
District Court
Courtroom No. 3
"Court is now adjourned for the day—"
"Objection!"
The cry rang through the room like a thunderclap, jolting through Phoenix from head to toe and piercing through the heart. He was back in the courtroom, Matt Engarde at the defendant's bench, and Maya. . . Maya kidnapped somewhere, with Detective Gumshoe racing to find her. To his right, Mia turned sharply, little Pearl's channeling holding strong. Together they looked across the courtroom.
Across the courtroom where Edgeworth—Miles—stood staring them down, solid and real and breathing hard, his arm raised in opposition, but his heart and purpose aligned. And this time around, Phoenix felt hopeful. They would save Maya and unmask the true Matt Engarde. They would go on to seek out the truth, giving help to those whose stories they crossed, while holding each other and the court to the pursuit of justice. With Miles at his side, and the court at their backs, they would forge a new path, together.
END