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snezfics-n-shit · 4 years

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Whumptober Day 25: Cranky

Fandom: Ace Attorney

Characters: Miles Edgeworth, Phoenix Wright, Trucy Wright, Athena Cykes, Apollo Justice

Notes: Post-DD. Established married!Wrightworth because what else did you expect? Miles has been taking time out of his schedule to care for the employees of the Wright Anything Agency after a particularly brutal cold season. He’s been doing great, he’ll swear on his life. The patience of a saint, that’s Miles Edgeworth for you. He is totally not going to completely lose it.

He couldn’t believe it. For the first time this week, Miles didn’t have to scrape perfectly decent breakfast, breakfast he made, into the garbage. He could have sworn it was proper etiquette for guests he and his husband so graciously welcomed in their home to at least try to clean their plates.

“They live alone, babe. It’ll do them good for us to extend some hospitality,” he remembered Phoenix saying. At first, Miles didn’t mind at all. He may not have been any Florence Nightingale, but he saw merit in caring for his husband’s colleagues while they were unwell. He didn’t even complain when the two infected his husband with a cold that reduced his voice to a hoarse crackle and kept Miles awake with hours of coughing and sneezing assaulting his ears. No, no. It was no trouble at all, really.

He could have sworn when he first welcomed Apollo and Athena as guests, he was up for anything they asked for. He could prepare soup with his eyes closed, and by the second day of Phoenix’s cold, Miles was very tempted to do so just so he could say he got something resembling sleep. As the number of hands helping him dwindled to zero, Miles’s energy was wearing a little thin. Just a little thin, though, not too much at all.

Then there was the texting. Since Miles was the only one in the house whose voice was audible, his cell phone was constantly blowing up with short, grammatically lacking text messages. Hardly any of them allowed him time to fulfill one person’s request without being bombarded with other unrelated tasks they expected of him. He could make tea and he could check pages of calculus homework, but not simultaneously; there was only one of him. He would do it again, though, really. Go ahead, ask him to care for ten sick people, and for a month this time. Just direct a hospital’s worth of patients to his house, why don’t you?

Oh, no, Miles wasn’t losing his patience at all. He was mature and collected, so he brought anything his family and guests asked for without a complaint. That was true, wasn’t it? Or did thoughts to himself about how tired he was getting from running around the house grabbing whatever anyone wanted count? He was doing so well the first three days of the arrangement, so surely at the tail end of the week his eyes shouldn’t be twitching from exhaustion he was most definitely not feeling.

“I’m really happy to finally taste your cooking, Mr. Edgeworth.” Athena’s recovered voice startled Miles. He had almost forgotten more people could speak than just him. “Trucy kept telling me you were a really good cook, and I’m definitely not disappointed.” Something about that felt underhanded, Miles was sure of it. She was doubting his skills as a cook, wasn’t she?

“You’ve been really good to us, Papa.” Trucy smiled. “Thank you so much!” Of course Trucy was the first to verbally thank him for his efforts. She was taught manners and was clearly not raised in a barn. And no, Apollo, emojis and ‘memes’ did not count.

“You’re very,” Miles heard his voice crack and cleared his throat, “you’re very welcome, Trucy.”

“Yeah, thank you so much, hon.” Phoenix was the second person Miles could count on for gratitude. What Miles really wanted to hear, however, was an apology for all the sleep he lost thanks to Phoenix’s poor volume control late at night. There was always something, be it sniffling, sneezing, or coughing that would start just as Miles thought he finally had some peace and quiet.

“Thanks.” Apollo said nothing besides that and continued eating the last of his toast. What a wordsmith, wasn’t he? A real Shakespeare.

“You’re both quite welcome as well.” Miles’s nose twitched ever so slightly as he spoke. “Are you all finished? I’d like to,” he cleared his throat again, “clean the dishes soon.” He knew no one would bother helping him with the task. They all had much more important things to do like watch television or play games on their phones.

Just as he thought, all responses were a chorus of confirming they were finished eating and not a single offer to help. Despite the fact they were all clearly more than ready to be back on their feet, Miles was on his own in carrying the pile of dishes to the counter by the sink. None of the dishes were his. He wasn’t hungry, and the lord knew he wasn’t about to be a hypocrite by committing the horrid act of wasting food. He would never be so ungrateful, so wasteful, so--

“Oh, I’d actually like a refill of orange juice.” Apollo asked, just as he always did since he arrived last Thursday.

“Your legs aren’t broken.” Miles snapped without even thinking about what he had just said.

“Woah, where did that come from?” Athena was taken aback by Miles’s harsh tone.

“YEAH, SOMEONE’S CRANKY!” Widget blurted in its usual loud and robotic tone, further irritating Miles.

“Would you mind telling that thing to put a sock in it?” Miles clenched his teeth, becoming more frustrated when Phoenix stopped him from reaching for his dishwashing gloves.

“Hey, if something’s bothering you, just tell us.” Phoenix wanted to de-escalate as well as he could. “Did something happen at work?”

“I wouldn’t know, Phoenix. I haven’t been in the office all week!” Miles was so caught up in the outburst he failed to hear how hoarse he sounded. He hardly thought anything when the strain caused him to cough.

“Oh, babe.” Phoenix’s expression softened. “You’re not feeling well, are you?” He kissed his husband’s forehead. “Mm, you’re warm, too.”

“Please, not in front of guests. Not to mention-- mention, hhh…” Miles turned away from Phoenix’s concerned gaze. “Hh’uurrssSHH” He sneezed in his elbow, leaving a damp spot on his pink pajama sleeve. He instinctively pressed a hand under his running nose, not doing anything to get Phoenix off his back. He wasn’t even done yet. “Hu’RRsshhooh! HH’RSSHOOH!” How disgusting.

“We can do the dishes, Papa!” Trucy offered. She looked at Apollo and Athena, who both nodded in agreement. “It’s only right to return the favor.” What a sweetheart she was, absolutely her father’s daughter.

“You’re going back to bed.” Phoenix put his head on Miles’s shoulder and embraced him from behind. “We’re not going to let you lift a finger.”

Miles found himself spacing out for the duration of Phoenix ushering him to bed. He really was out of sorts, wasn’t he? He couldn’t even remember stepping out of the kitchen. It was almost dreamlike to find himself bundled up in bed.

“Are you okay?” Phoenix waved his hand in front of Miles’s face. “It was way too easy to get you into bed and you haven’t said anything since we were in the kitchen.” He gently took Miles’s glasses and set them aside.

“Of course I’b dot okay.” Miles grumbled, turning on his right side. “I haved’t slept ihd days, we have the worst house guests I’ve ever had the displeasure of beetig, ahd by owd husbahd wod’t eved let be wash the dishes.”

“You’re a real ray of sunshine this morning.” Phoenix brushed Miles’s hair with his fingers. “My poor sick grouch of a husband.” He cooed.

“I’b dot a grouch.” Miles frowned, hardly supporting his claim.

“What would you call yourself, then?” Phoenix made a small hum. “With how you acted in the kitchen, I wouldn’t be surprised if you poked your head out of a trashcan and told us to scram.”

“I wasd’t by best, was I?” Miles knew that was the understatement of the year. That tickle in his throat that pestered him, admittedly since he went to bed last night, finally became a full-fledged cough. “I feel awful.” He croaked.

“I know, babe.” Phoenix sighed. “It’s our turn to take care of you, now. You did so much all by yourself, we’re gonna show you how grateful we are. You’ll even have Apollo and Athena to-”

“Doh.” Miles said firmly. “They’re goi’g hobe. Today.”

“Alright, alright. Then it’ll be just me and Trucy.”

“That’s better.”

Phoenix helped Miles sit up so he could fluff the pillow behind him. He gave a sympathetic smile as he listened to Miles’s thick, hardly effective sniffling.

“You must be so tired.” Phoenix let Miles lie back down. “I’m sorry if I kept you up all night.”

“I ab ahd you did.” Miles confirmed flatly.

Miles just closed his eyes for a moment, only to be disturbed by something poking into his mouth. He made a soft grunt, dismissing it until that horrible beeping had him opening his eyes again. He watched a blurry figure resembling Phoenix walk outside his field of vision, only for the figure to return a few moments later. He felt something cold and damp rest on his forehead and flinched from the dramatic contrast in temperature.

“Is it too cold?” Phoenix’s voice was muffled by Miles’s congestion-affected hearing. When Miles shook his head in response, Phoenix gave a sympathetic smile and gently adjusted the cool compress in place. He looked over at the doorway and spotted Athena and Apollo watching from outside the room. He mouthed something along the lines of ‘he’s resting.’

“I should apologize.” Miles said groggily. “The way I acted was terribly rude.”

“Hey, hey.” Phoenix shushed his husband softly. “You weren’t feeling like yourself this morning. Athena and Apollo aren’t strangers, and Trucy and I definitely know you wouldn’t act like that on a regular basis.” He kissed his warm cheek. “You were just a little cranky, is all.”

“That’s dot ad excuse.” Miles closed his eyes again. “It was udcalled for.”

"Mr. Edgeworth?" Athena couldn't help but speak up. "We accept your apology, but the boss is right. We know you don't always act like that."

"You were pretty rude." Apollo muttered just before Athena gave him a light nudge with her elbow. "But, uh," he scratched the back of his head, "we probably deserved it."

Miles refused to have a serious discussion sounding like he did, so he yanked about five or six tissues from the end table tissue box. The amount seemed to be just enough by the time he was done. He checked the remaining contents of the box before tossing the used tissues in the trash bin.

“No one deserved the harsh words I used.” What Miles’s voice lost in congestion was made up for in hoarseness. “It wasn’t right.”

“You can’t be on model behavior all the time, hon.” Phoenix massaged Miles’s hand with his thumb. He noticed Miles starting to look annoyed again. “What’s wrong?”

“You’re too nice about this.” Miles grumbled. His mood wasn’t completely improved. He would come up with more excuses to wallow in excess guilt if he wasn’t so, so very tired.

The next thing the trio of lawyers heard from him was one of his ‘world famous’ snores, as Phoenix jokingly described them when Miles wasn’t in the room. Miles was completely out cold when Trucy tiptoed in, intending on telling him the dishes were clean and put away.

“Papa’s asleep?” Trucy whispered and Phoenix answered with a nod. “Don’t worry,” she directed her assurance to Apollo and Athena, “he’ll be in a better mood when he wakes up, I promise.”

. . .

It was two in the afternoon when Miles finally woke up. All built up grumpiness washed away in his sleep and with a clear head, he felt as if he were in good enough shape to climb out of bed and see if his family needed anything. Just as he reached for his glasses, he found an envelope that wasn’t there before. It wasn’t sealed, so the card inside slid out easily into his hand.

The card was handmade, covered in variations of ‘Thank You’ written in different colored pencils. It was easy to tell whose message was whose, especially Athena’s multilingual expressions of gratitude and Phoenix’s barely legible handwriting. Miles felt himself tear up a little, not noticing Phoenix and Trucy standing by the bedroom doorway.

“We thought you’d appreciate that.” Phoenix was holding a steaming mug of tea, likely made just recently. He either had very strong husband intuition or just planned on waking Miles up when it was ready. He took a couple tissues from the box on the end table to use as a makeshift coaster to set the mug down on. “You should also know our guests left today as promised.”

“Before they left, we all made that card.” Trucy had her hands behind her back. “It was Polly’s idea!”

So Apollo was grateful after all. No, no. Miles wasn’t going to let himself fall back into that sort of attitude.

“We were going to make you soup but we didn’t know for sure if you would be hungry.” Phoenix handed the mug over to Miles, who accepted it gratefully. He watched Miles take a moment to inhale the steam with that smile he always had whenever Phoenix made him tea. There was a quality in Phoenix’s brews that Miles could never replicate no matter how hard he tried. “I’m glad to see you smiling again.”

“I think tea will suffice, thank you.” Miles’s voice was in worse shape than before. If this was how he sounded the first day into this cold, he wasn’t at all looking forward to the upcoming days that would surely go downhill from here. “I would hate to waste any of your cooking.”

“Oh yeah,” Phoenix chuckled nervously, “sorry about all that food you had to throw out. While you were sleeping, Trucy and I realized that must have bothered you a lot.” Indeed it did, as ashamed as Miles now felt for letting it get to him.

“I accept your apology,” Miles took a sip from the mug, “if only because you make a wonderful cup of tea.” He laughed briefly, causing a vibrating sensation in his chest that made him need to cough.

“Oh! Right!” Trucy presented what she had been hiding behind her back: a brand new jar of vapor rub. “We picked this up today! Do you want to put this on yourself or should Daddy do it?”

“I think I can do this myself.” Miles set down the mug so he could take the jar. He had just started dating Phoenix when he first experienced the substance’s decongestant properties. Phoenix applied it the first few times, but Miles was never a fan of how Phoenix knew exactly what parts of his chest were ticklish. He did, however, like how Phoenix was not at all judgmental about his unfamiliarity with the product.

“I did say you wouldn’t be lifting a finger.” Phoenix ruffled his husband’s hair. “I’m kidding, of course. Just know if there’s anything you need, you say the word and we’ll get it for you.”

“And I would like you to know,” Miles kissed Phoenix’s cheek, “if I’m too demanding, just tell me.”

“I don’t think that’s going to happen.”

Phoenix was just going to pretend he didn’t see Miles’s devilish smirk just then.

#whumptober #whumptober 2020 #sickfic whumptober alt #sneezing #snez #snz #sneeze kink #snez attorney #this went through so many revisions my brain hurts lol

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greentrickster · 4 years

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Ace Attorney Sentinal/Guide AU

(Just a rough outline, got the idea and needed to write it down)

Miles is the sentinel, Phoenix is the guide, sort of recognized each other as kids but didn’t get that that’s what it was because they were too young and neither had activated yet, no one around recognized it either for the same reason.

Try to deny it at first after the initial reunion, on both sides, because they don’t want this. Don’t acknowledge until after DL-6 resolution, start tentatively moving things along then. Miles never choses death, Phoenix goes after him after Gant, helps him calm down. Miles does still go to Europe, needs to get away from Japanafornia and get his head on straight. Comes back for Kurain, goes back to Europe, returns for AAI 1 and 2, moves back right after AAI2, thus is there for State vs Enigmar trial, prevents Phoenix from using forged evidence though Zak still vanishes and Phoenix still adopts Trucy. Phoenix spends seven years trying to find out who the forger is and what happened with Zak, but is also still a lawyer. Partway through, he and Miles get married. Simon still arrested, Dark Age of the Law still occurs, but Phoenix and Miles struggle against it the whole time.

Zak survives this one I guess? Jurist system still put in place, Kristoph goes to jail for one murder instead of two?

Actually Miles comes fully online during the DL-6 resolution – actually had a very high snapping threshold/was too young when his father died, so only partially activated as a sentinel. Phoenix came online as a guide partway through the Dahlia case. Miles not being fully active initially makes it easier for them to avoid forming a sentinel-guide bond when they first meet up again in court, though it’s something they have to put a bit of effort into. After the DL-6 resolution they can’t avoid it anymore, the bond just snaps into place when they shake hands after leaving the courtroom.

Athena is basically a guide on steroids – the Mood Matrix was meant to be a tool to make Guide abilities more quantifiable and thus easier to use in the legal system

#ace attorney #phoenix wright #miles edgeworth #narumitsu #sentinel guide AU #sentinel guide #athena cykes

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apollo-justice-for-all · 5 years

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Concept for a Hypothetical AA7 Case #1

These will be posted in no particular order since I haven’t decided the order for them yet (with one exception), but they will still be numbered as I go along.

The Familial Turnabout

Phoenix decides to visit his mother for the first time since he went to pass the bar exam. Trucy and Athena tag along because Phoenix had never mentioned his family until that point, though the girls have their own reasons for doing so. Trucy is excited to meet her adopted grandmother while Athena is simply eager to know more about her boss when he was younger. This is where we finally meet Phoenix's mother, whose name is Kestrel Wright.

Kestrel is happy to see her son for the first time in years, but is even happier to see that he has a daughter (albeit not by blood). She decides to bake cookies for everyone to enjoy while Phoenix tells her of his career as a lawyer and the crazy trials he faced (or, at least the most memorable ones, such as having to cross-examine a parrot, having to hire a rookie lawyer to help catch the real killer while he himself was disbarred, and so on). Once he's done, Kestrel proceeds to tell the girls of his childhood (much to Phoenix's embarrassment, yet also to the girls' amusement). Because Apollo is still in Khura'in, Phoenix decides to call him via video chat so that Kestrel can speak to him as well.

The next morning, Phoenix discovers that someone had been murdered overnight. When he goes to pay a visit at the Detention Center, he is shocked to find out that the defendant is none other than his own father, whom he had not seen in years! His father, a dour man named Corbin Wright, isn't happy to learn that Phoenix ended up being a lawyer instead of being in theater. He also insists that Phoenix not defend him and just allow him to take the fall, claiming that it's what he deserved after what happened. Phoenix, however, decides to defend Corbin anyway, knowing that it's what his mother would have wanted him to do.

Unfortunately for Phoenix, Athena has a stomachache from eating too many of Kestrel's cookies and has to sit out of this case while Trucy takes care of her. Meanwhile, Maya is busy with spirit channeling, assisted by Pearl, and Apollo has his own law office in Khura'in. Just as Phoenix decides to tackle his first solo case since the fateful trial that got him disbarred, Kestrel decides to assist him, much to Phoenix's surprise. Even more surprising is that Edgeworth has decided to personally prosecute the case himself! The gallery (and the Judge) can't help but laugh and gush over the fact that Phoenix's co-counsel is his own mother, while Edgeworth and Phoenix are just BEYOND embarrassed!

It is eventually revealed that Corbin began straining his relationship with his wife and son after the DL-6 Incident, and that he was as close a friend to Gregory Edgeworth as Phoenix was to Miles (like father like son, as the good folks say). In fact, Gregory's death was what served as the fuel for the fire that was Corbin's deep resentment towards the law, and he eventually left his family without a trace. This resentment only grew as more incidents happened, such as Queen Amara's supposed "assassination", the establishment of the Defense Culpability Act, the dark age of the law, and even the UR-1 Incident, until Corbin completely turned his back on the law and resorted to being a hobo (similarly to what happened with his own son).

Eventually, it is Kestrel who reminds Corbin of the man he used to be while Phoenix confesses that he was the one who helped bring about the dark age of the law. Even Edgeworth chips in by saying that his own father would have kept going if Corbin himself had died. While it doesn't immediately snap Corbin out of his misery, he does come to terms with the fact that his son has become a better man that he was, and that he should be proud of Phoenix. As it turns out, Corbin had been a witness to the murder, but fled out of fear that he would be mistaken for the killer; as such, he gets a Not Guilty verdict, allowing him to finally reunite with the family he had left behind all those years ago.

#cyber rambles #Phoenix Wright #Miles Edgeworth #Apollo Justice #Trucy Wright #Athena Cykes #Gregory Edgeworth #Ace Attorney #long post

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wardencommanderrodimiss · 5 years

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Witches, Chapter 13: no seriously we are finally at the end of this Tenma Taro thing we finally are seeing the last of it.

[Seelie of Kurain Chapter Masterlist] [ao3]

[Witches Chapter Masterlist] [ao3]

Isabella’s trial ends with her acquittal, and no indictment of another culprit. How could they? In the light of day, it’s that much harder to argue that the photos Athena has of scarred-up trees are evidence of a monster and not, say, a bear. (Apparently bears are pretty common out in the Vale and further north around Kurain Village. Who knew? Not Apollo, but Sebastian does, and he uses that fact.) They can argue it, and they do, and they succeed, but it’s a hell of an uphill slog with no real closure.

What could they do, anyway, to the real thief? Tenma Taro is trapped in a hollow iron statue inside a cavern warded with charms, and in a fae-induced coma. They can’t exactly bring it into court. And that’s even if a judge would let them. Maybe this one - a woman of indeterminate age, older than them and that’s all Apollo can guess, the way he couldn’t really at first place how old Iris was supposed to be, who looks like she was carved out of granite, stony and stern - would accept it. Maybe she wouldn’t. She gives no real indication either way through the trial, listening to all of their arguments with an impassive expression, and she asks sharp, cutting questions that throw both sides off-balance. If the judge who Apollo is used to generally trails behind the defense and prosecution, then this one is in line with them but a step to the side, considering a different angle.

When court is dismissed, Isabella thanks them profusely in the lobby, cries some more, and hugs Athena. She's been terrified since they told her yes, they could personally confirm her suspicion was correct and Tenma Taro truly was the culprit, but with the most difficult parts behind them Apollo assures her she won't have to worry about the yokai running about the valley any longer. She stares at him wide-eyed, clutching at the wooden bead necklace she wears - surely another sort of lucky warding charm - and she tells him she believes him.

What does she think he is, he wonders, touching his eye.

"I actually feel pretty good about what we've done these past two days," Athena says, flinging herself backwards into the lobby couch, slumping halfway off it like she's melting down to the floor.

"'Actually'?" Apollo echoes.

"Well," she says, "considering what we made of it the first go-around, but we pulled it together okay. With help, and some bruises." She plucks at her tights and the material snaps back against her leg. "Ow."

"Maybe don't do that, then," Apollo says, vividly sure that some or another time he has had a conversation just like this with Trucy. Less and less coworkers and more the annoying younger sisters he's never had - was he this annoying to Nahyuta? He knows he wasn't, so this doesn't even make sense as karmic justice.

"Eh, it kinda hurts even when I don't do that," Athena says, sticking her legs out straight in front of her and bouncing her heels off the floor. "It's just the tightness of it, but what else am I gonna wear?"

"Slacks?" Apollo asks.

Athena snorts. "You know how hard it was to find a facsimile of a jacket, and skirts, in this color?" she asks, gesturing at her cropped jacket, which Apollo wasn't ever going to comment on to say that she looks like a high school student trying to shirk the dress code when Prosecutor Gavin still comes to court looking like that. "How am I getting slacks?"

"Mr Wright and I manage," Apollo says. "Try shopping in mens?"

"And just hem it, hm." Athena taps at her earring, sending it swinging back and forth. He hasn't ever yet seen her wearing an earring in the other ear, just that crescent, and he wonders whether the other hole closed itself up, she lost the matching piece, or it's a clip-on. "And there'd be pockets to start with, too! Magnifico!"

"You have pockets already," Apollo says. "I've seen you stash food in them."

"I sewed them in," she explains. "One of my - my best friend when I was young, before I moved away, her grandmother taught her how to sew practically from birth, and I picked it up from her, how to modify stuff. Haven't learned to make my own clothes, otherwise we wouldn't be having this conversation. Just—" She reaches into her skirt pocket and pulls out a granola bar.

"Clever," Apollo says. "All I've learned from my best friend is tracking salt all across the apartment floor when you step in your own salt circle" - or really it's just a line across the threshold - "and a lot about constellations." And astrology, but that wasn't learned so much from Clay as it was learned to annoy Clay. Okay, maybe that's why these annoying younger sisters are happening as comeuppance, even though Clay is four months younger than Apollo (by the guesstimated birthday Datz picked out) and is generally much worse to Apollo on a regular basis. "Yours is more practical."

"Is the salt circles because he's trying to summon a demon or keep the demons away?" Athena asks.

"The latter."

"Could we theoretically just have gotten a salt lick and tossed it at Tenma Taro?" Athena asks. She grins to herself, and Apollo rolls his eyes at the image. Like that would work. "Or a bowl of Eldoons? But I guess there's probably someone out there somewhere you can impress with space facts." Like Ema, the few times she and Clay have crossed paths, but Apollo watches the smile fall off Athena's face. He glances around the lobby, surprised to find that it's empty still, that no one has entered, that there's no apparent catalyst to why Widget's blue has darkened. "Someone who thinks it's neat and not - deathly cold and empty and lonely."

"The ol' existential dread hits hard when you think about infinity, huh?" And yet looking up is still less terrifying than even considering what it would be to look across to the Twilight Realm, glean what the world of the fae is like. He asked Klavier; he's sure he can say that it's just as cold, and just as lonely.

"Oh yeah," she says. "Something like that. I'd rather take the ocean; it's still a cold abyss you might die in but you get anglerfish and giant squid with it." Widget lights back up to neutral blue and a second later flashes past it to cheery green. "And penguins! Does outer space have penguins? Check and mate!"

"I am not going to argue to the existence of space penguins, no," Apollo says. He doesn't know of any penguin constellations; off the top of his head, there's a swan, and an eagle, and one summer Nahyuta charted a warbaa'd that Apollo no longer remembers how to find.

"Man, what kind of a lawyer are you if you can't even do that?"

Kay announces her arrival with the nonsense she's made herself known for. She proved herself a detective as competent as any other on the stand today, self-assured as she always is but with seriousness she didn't even muster in their life-or-death struggle against Tenma Taro. When called on a contradiction, she swings back with ferocity, without waiting for the prosecution to square it away himself. She forced Apollo to stay on his toes, kept the case moving, up until Sebastian had to make an explanation that didn’t quite mesh with what Kay had argued, and there Apollo drove the wedge to split open the case. They sit almost on the same wavelength and work well together, miles better than Fulbright and Blackquill or Ema and Klavier, but Kay can lunge forward impulsively and Sebastian hesitate to overthink; Apollo remembers being forced to object to one of Athena's conclusions and sympathizes with the way they fall out of sync.

But the trial is over, the verdict passed, and Kay is Kay, off-hours, Detective Faraday no longer. "Yeah, yeah, we handed that one to you," she says with a sharp grin that suggests she might not be speaking seriously, if the red flash of light that frames her lips doesn't give Apollo that hint. "Next time, we'll kick your ass." Competitiveness lingers, though. "Next time, when we're all not partying it up with the actual monster behind the thing and getting con-cu-ussed!" Her voice pitches into a sing-song at the end as she points at herself with both thumbs. "No biggie, really. You got a job to do so you do it, y'know? Like I investigated a crime scene while concussed and amnesiac, once."

"You what?" Widget yelps, and Athena is too shocked to try and stifle it. Apollo lets that stand as the only response. Sometimes it’s hard to wrap his head around Kay, especially because he knows she’s not lying.

“It wasn’t even your job then,” Sebastian says. Apollo isn’t surprised by his arrival, only that he wasn’t immediately beside Kay when she came bounding in. “It wasn’t even her job then.” He directs his statement directly at Apollo and Athena now. “She was just tagging along with Prosecutor Edgeworth.”

“And I was born to investigate, my dudes,” Kay replies, tipping herself backwards onto the couch, next to Athena. “Though maybe not any more today. I’ve got a headache.”

“You’d better be planning on going home and taking a nap after this.”

Apollo jumps; Kay flinches, sitting up forward, and so does Athena, who loses the last of her tenuous balance and slides to the floor. Apparently none of them had been warned that Phoenix would be in attendance.

The surprise now passed, Kay sinks back into the couch. “Yeah yeah, sure thing, Dad.”

Phoenix sighs and presses a hand across his eyes. “I’d tell you someone should talk to you about your lack of professionalism, but I don’t think anyone we know could give that speech without being a hypocrite.”

Apollo thinks himself plenty professional, but the trouble is no one - not Trucy or Klavier or Kay - responds in kind.

Kay gives Phoenix a thumbs-up. “I didn’t know you were planning to come, Boss,” Athena says.

“It was more a whim than a plan, really.” Phoenix gives them a small smile. “Had to make sure you were all keeping up the good work in the courtroom, too.” Kay shoots him another thumbs up. Sebastian fidgets like he doesn’t know if he should take Phoenix seriously, if he really did doubt how the trial would go. Apollo wishes he had some advice about understanding Phoenix to offer. After nearly a year, he does not.

“If it isn’t Phoenix Wright, the man of the hour.”

Apollo knows that voice only because he spent the last several hours hearing her speak: the judge, still with her gavel in hand, tapping it against her palm. Her black hair sits immaculately braided into a crown atop her head, and her layered white cloak flutters delicately for several seconds after she stops moving. “Hello, Judge Courtney,” Phoenix says. Of course he knows her by name too; doesn’t he know everyone in the legal world? “Long time, no see.”

“Indeed it has been,” Courtney agrees. “I expect to see you soon again behind the bench, yes? Having made your latest turnabout last year.”

“Is there anyone who hasn’t been told that I’m retaking the Bar?” Phoenix asks, turning his eyes and hands pleadingly ceilingward.

“Oh yeah, that’s really soon, isn’t it?” Athena asks. “Next week? You should probably be panicking more.”

“If that’s your official analytical psychology-based advice…” Phoenix shrugs again. Athena frowns, apparently considering whether she wants that to be her actual stance on the matter. “Anyway, Courtney, can I assume that you were put on this trial for a reason?”

“You may assume whatever you like,” she replies. “Though I do wish to speak to you about this entire matter, if you have the time.”

“I do have to run pretty soon,” Phoenix says, “but if you’re heading out too, then yeah, sure.” He turns toward the door, stops, and adds, “Why do I have this horrible feeling of dread already?”

“That’s your problem, not mine,” Courtney says. Her next words are directed at Apollo and Athena. “Mr Justice, Ms Cykes, I’ve heard promising things of you both. Forgive me for brushing you off in this moment, and for not introducing myself properly. You may call me Justine Courtney.”

A part of Apollo that considers itself both weary and savvy thinks that he should have expected it.

Outside of a trial he’s surely allowed to address a judge by name. He knows this. “It’s very nice to meet you, Your Honor,” he says. Nailed it, but has anyone ever had problems born of being too respectful of the fae?

(Actually, probably. He’ll ask Clay if he’s ever heard of that one.)

“Oh!” Athena jumps like someone just hit her in the ribs. “Nice to meet you!” She flashes a nervous smile, having now remembered basic manners.

Courtney smiles. It’s almost imperceptible; Apollo wouldn’t consider the expression on her face a smile if he hadn’t just watched the corners of her mouth twitch upwards a minuscule amount. “Sebastian has told you of me, I see.”

“Huh?” Athena asks, her fearful grin still frozen in place. “Why would you think that?”

“Those expressions of terror on both your faces tell me you surely know something of me.” There, more obviously a smile. “I assure you, unless you commit a crime, you have nothing to fear from me.”

Athena’s shoulders sag with relief. “Oh,” Apollo says. “Um. Thanks.”

“Good day to you all.”

She has barely left with Phoenix when Athena rushes over to the lobby doors, putting her ear up to the crack between them. “What?” she asks Apollo’s glare. “They might have something interesting to say! This isn’t a crime!”

“Just horribly impolite,” Apollo says. And fae society is founded on a thin veneer of politeness, with terrible consequences for its breaking. He might have thrown some eighty percent of his self-preservation instincts to the wind with Tenma Taro, but Athena is extra ridiculous.

A minute passes. Athena’s forehead creases, her eyes narrowing. “Well?” Kay asks.

“They’re just talking about their kids,” Athena says, and her disappointment couldn’t be more obvious if both she and Widget screamed it.

“And what’s John up to, then? Shit, how old is he now, even? Nineteen?”

“Twenty-one, actually.”

“Where’s the time even go?” Trucy turned sixteen early in the spring and since then he’s had the nagging feeling that the world is ending. Isn’t she still the baby in his locket? Sometimes he thinks about how that little girl in pink, her round face and the eyes too big for it, is the last memory Zak had of her; he never got to see her grow up. (Never bothered to.) And here’s Phoenix, the one who gets to, dreading it. Funny thing, fatherhood.

“I have no idea,” Courtney replies. And they say it’s only in the Twilight Realm that time works differently. “He’s taking a bit of a hiatus, you could say, from acting, considering what he wishes to do next. He’s concerned if he doesn’t do something he’ll be typecast for life in kaiju movies as the one human who the monster finds fondness for.” With a chuckle and a shake of her head, she adds, “Though I suppose there is some art imitation of life in that.”

“I wasn’t gonna be the one to say that,” Phoenix says. Think it, certainly, but say it? No. “Though you’re up to maybe half a dozen humans now?”

She raises her eyebrows but smiles and accepts the joke for what it is - a joke, and not Phoenix counting up her family, acquaintances, and coworkers and deciding which she presumably likes enough to spare when she smashes up Los Tokyo, which Phoenix would swear is a city name he once heard in one of those movies when he and Trucy went. “Something close to that, perhaps.” She smacks her gavel into the center of her palm and her long nails, even now reminiscent of the claws Phoenix could see if he looked at her through different eyes, curl around it. “Now. Mr Wright.”

He’ll probably never get used to hearing his name from her lips; she’s like Mia in this regard, a creature of the Court so determined to perform humanity that she overcomes their cultural hangup on names - somewhat. Mia still tripped, and Courtney has her own particular patterns. It makes her sound like an extremely polite person, he’s come to notice: it’s Mr or Ms and a surname to everyone, first-name basis reserved only for John and Sebastian.

“Why was I not informed of everything that was planned to deal with the monster Tenma Taro until after the fact?”

“Sebastian didn’t tell you?” Phoenix asks.

Courtney levels a cold stare at him. “Do not shift the blame. He did not, because, as he explained to me this morning, he was aware that I had dinner plans with John last night and thus he didn’t want to bother me. You, however, Mr Wright, have no such knowledge of my schedule but do have my contact information, and therefore, had no reason to not have kept me abreast of the entire situation.”

“That I think Sebastian is a competent kid who’s more than capable of handling this? Is that not a reason?”

Her expression darkens into a scowl, her fingers tightening a little more around her gavel. “If you think him so, then, pray tell, why you also called upon one of your... ‘friends’ to deal with the beast?”

Something got lost in the telling, but it’s a relief if this is all she wants to chew him out for. “No, I didn’t call on anyone, beyond, y’know, the kids - it was a decision they made, no input from me.” Trucy had said that she was glad for Iris’ help, though, and also that Iris was terrifying, and Edgeworth gripped the steering wheel hard enough that his knuckles went white.

Courtney’s brow does not relax. “And that does not concern you? You may be content to place your child into the hands of one of Them, but do not expect me to be so nonchalant about mine.”

“I’d argue that Sebastian isn’t your child, but you have that look that says you would argue that on a technicality.”

“I in fact could,” she replies. “But you know as well as I that you are arguing on a technicality yourself, rather than address my concern.”

Phoenix glances back up the stairs. He doesn’t know how far Athena’s hearing ranges, but he does know that she’s damnably curious, and when it’s that easy to eavesdrop, he wouldn’t put it past her. “I’d need to fully grasp your concern to make an actual rebuttal. I mean, I understand in some capacity - they’re the royalty.” If he remembers the timeline, which he’s not sure he does, Courtney would have left the Court before Morgan’s incarceration. She would have known it as the nightmare it was under Elise’s absence and Morgan’s ambitions, and he can’t fault her for being wary of the next generation of women to rule over that den of vipers.

“No,” she says. “That is not why. Mystics or no, I do not trust any of my kind who claim to love humans but then return to those frigid halls.”

How many stolen children had she known - disregarded, perhaps, back then - before John came into her care? She without a doubt knows what would have become of him had she raised him in the Twilight Realm. Thalassa and Klavier have gifts not worth the scars. Even a kindly fae guardian couldn’t protect a human child there.

“I’d tend to disagree there, because they’re the Mystics,” Phoenix says. The courthouse doors swing closed behind them and they step into the bright sunlight and the noise. It’s easier to talk out on the street, their voices drowned out by the rest of the bustle. This is Los Angeles, crowded and noisy and the background radiation of Kurain, the fallout that drifted here, makes the city so damn weird that this conversation can’t be breaking the top ten of most bizarre conversations happening within this hour. “If they were just anyone, like you, I’d say yeah, leaving is best. But they’re at the top of the food chain - don’t they owe it to try and change things from up there?”

Had Elise and her fondness for humanity kept the throne, what then? Where would the Court be, anything or nothing changed? Or if Maya and Pearl left now, if Iris had kept to her self-exile, what would become of it? At the end of their bloodline, who would take their place as Mystics, on the throne, as Queen? How much worse can it get? (Better not to ask. Don’t tempt fate.)

“Would you tell Edgeworth to abandon the title of chief prosecutor because half the office is corrupt?” Phoenix adds. “That’s exactly why we need him there.”

On the sidewalk, Courtney stops to face him. “And I find that a very imperfect analogy,” she says.

“It’s an analogy - if it were perfect, it would be—”

She holds a finger up to her lips. Sometimes Phoenix would swear it’s more than just intimidation in that motion and that she puts magic behind it to make him or anyone trip over his tongue when she has a point she wants to make. “We need a justice system; we need prosecutors. We need to reform, to shine light on the shadows, for all our sakes. We do not need the Winter Court.”

“So you’re an advocate of fae anarchy?” Now there’s a sentence he didn’t expect to say. While he, and even Maya and Iris and Pearl, use it also to mean fae society as a whole, “the Winter Court” should, pedantically, refer only to their governance. He doesn’t know which Courtney means: that the fae hierarchy is unnecessary, or that they are.

“I am an advocate of us intermingling with humanity enough that we fade away entirely.”

The latter, then. “You might get that wish,” Phoenix says. He’s heard from Maya that they kill each other faster than they have children, and then those children that do happen get swapped for human ones, and every decision is one of impulse, a whim in the moment, no forethought, no concern for the repercussions, the inevitable societal collapse. And Maya has never sounded grieved by this. It’s a simple fact. Their dynasty will end with a whimper: that is their prophecy, and a self-inflicted one.

“I look forward to it. In the meantime, though, I must as of your ‘friends’ - do they think change is needed in the Court? Do they understand what it is that is so wrong there, or do they humor you and our morality as one would humor a child or a favorite pet?”

“If it’s getting a cat that makes you get rid of the toxic waste in your backyard, that’s still a good thing, right?” he asks irritably. If it ends at the same damn place— “You aren’t something different from them either, you know.”

“Of course I know.” She straightens her back, drawing herself up even straighter, and her cloak rustles, its movements continuing independently of her body, belying the two pairs of wings that under glamour pretend to be a garment. So far as he knows she can’t support herself to fly with those wings. They’re an aesthetic, part of her self-styled position as an avenging archangel of the Goddess of Law. “But that means I know how they are, as I once was. A question for you, Mr Wright, that I mean in the kindest way possible.” Part of him doubts that. “Do you believe, truly, that you have made enough of an impact on them that when you are gone, they will continue to respect the morality that you currently ask them to live by?”

“I—”

Iris would. Pearl - might. But he hasn’t seen Maya in years because he was afraid that even with him present, here, alive, she would go against his wishes and enact bloody vengeance on Kristoph. She offered it as a gift for free, like a cat would turn up a dead mouse on the doorstep. He can answer half the question, that he’s made an impact. She loves him. That isn’t what Courtney wants to know.

“We’re a bit off-track from your main concern, aren’t we?” A feeble redirect, but she doesn’t look smug so much as sad that she’s tripped him up here. “You wouldn’t trust them yourself, fine, but the question of what happens when I’m gone doesn’t have that much in common with you currently being angry that Sebastian was around them, now, when I’m still in the proximity.”

“I am what they are, of the fae. Sebastian is a witch - is my witch, you might say. In the Court, we hardwire ourselves into a particular way of thinking, whether we mean it or not. To survive, you learn that all others are threats, now or soon to be in the future, and if you cannot get at the threat itself right away, you wage a proxy war and strike against their resources, their tools, and their humans - who you would consider within the first two categories.”

Implication: obvious. Sort of. Part of it. “Why would they see you as a threat, though? You exiled yourself. You’ve said yourself you’re never going back.”

“It’s an instinct. Even I struggle with it.” Courtney steps closer to him, allow the sidewalk traffic to flow around them. Maybe they should start walking again, get out of the courthouse vicinity before the kids catch up. “Seeing another of my kind, or a changed child - my first impulse is to lash out. I find it incredibly unfortunate, not to mention distracting. I presided over a case the other day that Prosecutor Gavin was in charge of, and I believe we both found that profoundly uncomfortable, no matter how we reasonably know that we are very removed from that life.”

Profoundly uncomfortable is a decent way to describe how Phoenix feels at this thought, too. “Oh,” he says. “I see.”

“Yes. You understand, then, my concern that Sebastian will come to harm? You friends may protect your daughter and your proteges, because they are yours. But Sebastian…”

Those two are Edgeworth’s, not mine. He said it himself, shifted responsibility for their lives, because he’s already failing to convince himself that Athena and Apollo aren’t his responsibility, aren’t his kids. Didn’t he tell Iris they were, or at least implied it?

(And then Iris implied that Kay was right, that she and Sebastian were Phoenix’s too, by saying that Kay had decided for him. Of all that happened last night, that’s an inconsequential piece, and he remembers it vividly.)

(Which, actually, even if Iris hadn’t agreed, there’s still another question raised.)

“Yeah,” Phoenix agrees. “But, they know Edgeworth. My friends, I mean. They know he’s my friend. And they know who his - his people are, Kay, Sebastian, whoever else. That he wouldn’t be happy if anything happened to them, and I wouldn’t either.”

“Believe me, I do like to hear that,” Courtney says with a tiny smile. “But that is a chain too long for me to fully place my trust in. Understand where my concern comes from, and tell me in advance whenever you need the assistance of Sebastian the witch as much or more as Sebastian the prosecutor. Can we agree to that?”

“Absolutely,” Phoenix says. He could’ve agreed to it without the passive-aggressive shaming but - well, she probably thought she needed to do that to properly make her point. To make him understand, she would have thought it best to make him doubt first. How could she trust his fae when he isn’t certain that he himself does? Courtney’s won every hand this round. Probably time to step away from the table.

She smiles. “Good. Best of luck to you; I hope the Bar goes well.”

“Oh,” he says. “Uh, thanks.”

And then he winces, and she raises her eyebrows. The whole damn conversation, he was reminded, he was extra aware, of what she is, and then he slipped anyway. One of the first bits of advice Mia gave him, to never say thank you to Them. It’s an admission of owing a debt, however slight, and thank you does not fulfill a debt. “I hope you haven’t lost your touch,” Courtney adds, and it means double now. “I’ve wanted to someday see you in court, given how highly the chief prosecutor has spoken of you all these years.”

Implication: she can’t believe that the man Edgeworth so highly respects is the man standing before her. (Or maybe she does, and the one here who doesn’t believe such is Phoenix.)

“Well,” Phoenix says, “if you aren’t the judge on my first case back” - presumptuous to say he’ll be back, but confidence is a key point, though he’s pretty damn confident that Courtney wouldn’t be the judge, because he thinks he probably sealed some sort of accidental exclusivity pact with the one judge a long time ago - “you can come watch. I’ll let you know when. Or Edgeworth will.” Edgeworth might make a damn party out of it if Phoenix isn’t careful.

“I will look forward to it.” Courtney nods at him, one last acknowledgement. “Until next time.” She spins on her heel and weaves her way through the people on the sidewalk, a most mundane exit. Phoenix turns his eyes from her back, stares up at the courthouse behind them. Always something new to ponder, always another issue.

But dragging Sebastian out anywhere isn’t in future plans, so most of what he needs to concern himself with vis-à-vis Courtney is to extend to Trucy her offer that, if Trucy is interested in performing on the big screen and not the stage, Courtney will smack John into being in a good enough mood to accept any inquiries Trucy might have.

Small mercies, that among everything else, Phoenix’s teenager has never been a moody teenager. He’s not sure how he would handle that.

Trucy arrives at the office after school, beaming once they tell her of their victory, and promising them that they are becoming the go-to law firm for the people of Nine-Tails Vale and Tenma Town. How is one supposed to feel when told that he might be the lawyer on retainer for a haunted valley? Word-of-mouth advertising is just about all the Wright Anything Agency has, and Apollo decides he’s going to skip thinking about this unless it becomes a problem again.

In a way that’s becoming a habit, the girls tear out of the office when the clock strikes five like their horses are going to turn into rodents again. “I’m too busy on weekends,” Trucy says, and she is, often, as a real magician trying to reintroduce stage magic to a city culturally wary of both, “but I’ve gotta show Athena all the coolest places around town as soon as possible!”

“Didn’t you grow up here?” Apollo asks her, and Athena shrugs, and she and Trucy clamber into her car and honk and wave at him and are gone from the lot before Apollo has even unlocked his bike from the rack.

Takes some getting used to, still, the new routine. Trucy going home with Athena even though Athena’s found somewhere to live that isn’t the Wright family couch. Since Christmas, Apollo and Trucy would bike part of the way home together - she had gotten hers as a present from “Uncle Miles - er, Mr Edgeworth, he’s awkward about me calling him that in front of people that he works with, I think it’s like a professionalism thing?” - but now—

Well, he can’t resent Trucy if she’d rather hang out with another girl her own age, and Athena’s a nice kid herself, and he doesn’t know where this thought is headed. Athena had offered to give him a lift, too, but accepting a ride from his coworker five years his junior, for more than heading to a crime scene, definitely feels undignified. What little dignity he has left.

Trucy never bothers to lock up her bike when she leaves it here, saying that Mia would make sure it wasn’t stolen. And it hasn’t ever been, yet - the only thing ever stolen from this office, far as Apollo knows, were Trucy’s magic panties; maybe Mia shares Apollo’s disdain for those things. But Apollo would rather trust something solid, and he still meticulously locks up his bike, and he still locks the office door behind him when he’s the last to leave.

About ready to go, sliding his lock into his backpack, someone behind him speaks. “Little dragon.”

Apollo whirls around, reflexively raising the lock in his hand like a weapon, letting his bicycle clatter to the ground. Iris flinches away, her hands coming up to protect her face, as though she couldn’t flatten him without touching him if she really wanted. Would she look more or less frightening if it was in the light of day that he saw her charcoal skin and red eyes? Kristoph under the clinical lights of the courtroom simply was.

“Why are you here?” Apollo asks, slowly lowering the lock, because it’s steel, not iron, and is not going to be of use. Hell, even iron doesn’t feel like enough, right now, not when he almost asked what do you want, a question that could surely be extorted into wrenching something away from him. What do you want, inches from, what can I give you, and the fae, tangling the lines.

“I have a piece of advice to offer,” Iris says.

Apollo leans down to lift his bike from the ground, not breaking eye contact with her. Not enough eye contact is probably an offense. Too much is also probably an offense. The winning move is to not play and it’s far too late for that. “Am I allowed to refuse it?” he asks, and then he wants to stick his entire foot in his mouth, because advice doesn’t imply something binding, and he could disregard it without telling her that. Because this definitely is an offense, and Iris’ dark eyes narrow. He’d swear they flashed in the light, not red, but a white shine. He curls his hand around the handlebars and squeezes until he can feel the iron ring digging into his finger.

“Yes, but I don’t believe you are so selfish, are you?” She scrutinizes him with a hard stare, wide eyes and a slack, blank face.

“Er,” Apollo says. If he wants to ignore advice from dubious sources and gets ruined for it then that’s his problem, no one else’s. “Selfish?”

“Perhaps ‘advice’ is not the way to term it,” Iris says. She leans on the bike rack and her nails when they hit it make the soft tink of metal on metal. “An assurance, perhaps? And not only for you.”

“O...kay?” Do the fae enjoy being cryptic, or is it not on purpose and simply an impulse hardwired, a manner of speaking they think nothing of? Or is it for the sake of dramatics - it would explain a lot about Klavier if needless dramatics are a key cultural aspect of living among the fae. “For who, then?” If it was for anyone else - Trucy or Kay or Sebastian - she could have just said it last night, when they were all together. Why just ambush Apollo?

“Your friend,” she answers. That means nothing despite Apollo’s very limited number of friends. “The changed child, the lost boy. He is far from mad, I assure you - he is not twisted only in his own head, and he is not the only one who have ever seen through a looking glass a life that could have been.”

“Oh,” Apollo says. He hadn’t lent much credence to Klavier’s thought that his visions were just a psychological coping mechanism, honestly, but if Iris has insight then he won’t pass up the chance to learn more. “So, who else, then, has had that happen? If you can say,” he adds hastily. Maybe she can’t, or won’t, the way Klavier clams up.

“Little dragon,” she says, and Apollo doesn’t know if she’s teasing him or scolding him with that tone; it’s something almost in between, and a strange uncomfortable familiarity. “You have an eye for the Truth and a brick for a brain.”

“Eh?” Definitely not the best objection he could make to refute that. Even yelling “Objection!” might have been better.

“Dense,” she says. “It’s me.”

“It’s - ah.” Right. Should he have guessed that? She knows about Klavier without - surely she hasn’t met him? She knows about something he only ever told Apollo. If she knows that, she might know anything, and she could be talking about anyone. “Why - why’s that happen, then? To you and Prosecutor Gavin but not - not—”

Not me, when I could very easily have lived several lives unfathomably different from each other?

(Not that he wants to see it. Not that he envies Klavier at all. He doesn’t know if his heart would hold together at a glimpse of a life beside his brother.)

“I cannot say with total certainty, but he and I share something,” Iris says. “A complex, unfortunate entanglement with the name and life of another. His twin stole his life and name, while I borrowed both from mine.”

He feels like an echo in this conversation, adding nothing, just standing here in bewilderment asking for constant clarification. “His twin?” Apollo repeats. That’s - one way of putting it. Technically they are the same age, or supposed to be.

Iris nods solemnly, lowering her eyes, her lids heavy and hiding them entirely. “It is not quite the same. My sister was as fae as I am - we were born together, she the last red rays of a setting sun, and I the shadow of the horizon when the light sank away.” She pushes herself up off the bike rack, no longer leaning in toward Apollo but withdrawing into herself. “And I was indeed her shadow. We were not the daughters our mother wanted - my sister was powerful but not malleable, and I was weak and loved her more than I ever would our mother. She cast us aside and my sister set her sights on power among humans, not within the Court. I followed, because I was sure I would not live without her.”

My sister was, she said. Was. And that’s enough to know before Iris continues, lifting her chin and shaking her hair back out of her eyes. “But she is dead and I am still here, because her cruelest deeds caught up to her and I, all she had for a heart, could not shield her. All she knew was how to shed more blood, and she meant to, and instead I asked her, would she please not dirty her hands further, would she let me try to fix this my way; she allowed me to, and for the better part of a year our places were switched. Our name was Dahlia Hawthorne.” She tilts her head, studying Apollo intensely again, like she’s checking to see if the name means something to him. He isn’t sure that it doesn’t.

“And I failed,” Iris continues, “and she acted her own way as she had wished to from the start - and then she failed, was judged and sentenced and taken from me and then from the world of the living, and I was left behind an echo. For years after that, I saw - not quite like your friend, not the one simple life that would have been, but many. A diamond, and its every facet a different alternative. A different possible life for Dahlia.”

She lifts up a hand, her palm facing the sky, her fingers curled just slightly around a beveled gem that appears in her hand. Its clear body sparkles in the sunlight and Apollo sees flashes of movement inside of it, colors and shapes and people. “In one lifetime,” Iris says, and the gem, the diamond, floats in the air a few inches above her hand, “I never was her at all. I stepped aside and let my twin do what she would and never cared about the darkness we damned the legal system to languish in.” She twists her wrist and the diamond turns with it. “In another, I was Dahlia and after I did what I meant to I stayed, and then my sister killed him anyway because she could not bear for me to love anyone but her.”

“So your sister was a monster too,” Apollo blurts. He hopes she realizes the “too” refers to Kristoph, not to Iris.

“Oh yes,” Iris says. “She was a demon; she was selfish and cruel and manipulative and she would have been an archetypal fae queen had she decided to fight for the throne. From the day we were born until the day she was executed, she cared about no one but herself. And from the day we were born, I have loved her, and until I die I will love her still. She is my sister and she is me and I was her - it’s a knotted mess, is it not, when there is someone else who is and isn’t you, and a name that is and isn’t yours.”

Apollo nods mutely. Did your sister care about you? he doesn’t ask, because while Iris has been open so far about her life story, and it’s a valid question given the way she talks about herself and her sister being one person, there’s got to be a line somewhere and he doesn’t want to meander across it.

“I never did see a life where I did what I meant to and escaped without incurring an unpayable debt, nor did my sister ever choose a way to hide damning evidence that was not pawning it off on a naive boy who has since willed his heart to turn to stone because he loves so strongly that time and again it breaks.” Iris snaps her palm closed into a fist and the diamond vanishes, but her eyes hold a far-away look softer than the sharp movement. “It’s hard to believe in destiny when I’ve seen so many disparate possibilities, but I suppose it must exist in some form, and he always destined or damned to cross paths with the faes of Kurain.”

She isn’t talking about Phoenix, is she? “Do you still have visions?” Apollo asks instead. “Or how did you stop them?”

“For myself,” she says, and that sounds like a veiled warning that this isn’t going to help Klavier, that this is all subjective guesswork, and the fae’s prying eyes don’t have much help, “I needed a certain amount of closure. To see again the man I had most wronged, to tell him the truth, and that to see in spite of myself and my twin, he had survived and found people who loved him better than I ever could.”

He can’t not ask. The question is going to eat him otherwise. “So, erm, is this Mr Wright you’re referring to?”

Iris stares at him with lifeless eyes. Apollo rubs the back of his head and decides that the best way to play is this is to make a plea deal by naming his co-conspirators. “And we were wondering, uh, me and Trucy and - and Athena, and Detective Faraday and Prosecutor Debeste - we were wondering, are you in love with Mr Wright?”

“No,” she says curtly.

“Oh.” He’d still sort of believe that single word, sharp and clipped as it was, to be a lie if she wasn’t fae. (And if he couldn’t see when humans are lying, sometimes. Most of the time. Whenever Blackquill isn’t involved.)

“Why did you think so?” she asks, studying him, her head tilting back and forth. Apollo regrets everything that brought him here, his bad choices and his friends who are bad choices themselves. “A moon rabbit heard something she thought was that?”

That has to mean Athena, “rabbit” an epithet commenting on her ears, though why “moon rabbit” in particular? (Apollo knows that some Asian cultures call it a rabbit in the moon, not because it was a Khura’inese story too - it’s not - and definitely not because he and Clay spent all of middle school and half of high school intensely into Sailor Moon - they definitely, totally didn’t.) What’s that got to do with Athena? Trucy a firebird, Apollo a dragon - what does Iris think she knows about Athena?

“No,” Apollo says. “It was just a kinda vibe that all of us felt?” He expends too much effort stopping his voice from cracking into a fearful squeak. “Can we forget that I asked that and just move on?”

“No,” Iris answers. Apollo’s heart sinks. “If I agreed, little dragon, that would be a deal, and a debt you owe to me.”

Shit. He’s done it again, said something wrong to her again, and he’s lucky that she’s - kind? Has a steep debt or her own and sympathizes? Or is she hoarding his missteps even while she points them out, waiting until there’s something she can get from him?

“Didn’t your father teach you to better watch your words?”

Apollo tries very, very hard to pretend it’s just random that she said father over mother or parents - tries to pretend past the sticky dryness in his throat that she’s not fae, not of a habit of knowing things she has no way to know and not of a disposition to select every word with intricate care. And he tries to pretend that the most he learned from his father wasn’t the shapes of magatamas and mitamahs, an edict to hold his soul close, but that the people he loves are going to let him down sooner or later, or later.

(Kristoph and Phoenix just reemphasized that one.)

“Entirely different question,” Apollo says. Better to move on. “Why did you tell me all this and not Prosecutor Gavin when he’s the one who actually…”

Actually is living with it and isn’t just Apollo, on the sidelines, the one who knows so many secrets, about Klavier, about Trucy and the Gramaryes, and now about Iris. (One of the fae, and he knows something so - so - about her.)

“And just how much do you suppose a man who was so stolen and changed wants to hear, unsolicited, anything from a royal creature of the Court that did this to him?”

Royalty, monsters, and Iris’ twin, the monster, who would have been the classic image of a queen. What’s their relation to Mia? How many are part of this royal family, and does Phoenix know all of them?

“Ah,” Apollo says. “Right. But I don’t really think he’s going to be much more receptive to me coming up to him and telling him what I’ve heard from one of the fae who impossibly knows things about him that she’s got know way of knowing!”

“Everyone you meet who’s magic brushes something off on you,” Iris explains. “Distinct traces, and one can learn a lot about someone else if she knows how to read it. And I am very familiar with your friend’s particular problem to recognize it.”

(If she sees all this about Klavier, could she tell Apollo what Dhurke is? And Nahyuta? If he wants information from her, what payment would she demand in return? Does he even want to know this?)

“It’s still creepy,” Apollo says. “And I’m not—” Not what? Equipped to handle any of this bugfuckery? Responsible for Klavier in any way? He’d like to be able to help him, sure, but this is - how much would it actually help?

Iris waits for him to finish the thought.

“We’re barely friends,” Apollo adds, because she really looks like she’s going to stand there silently until he can stumble though some more words. “What am I supposed to do? Say ‘hey, I have it on good authority from one of the Fair Folk that you haven’t lost your mind, no she couldn’t tell you how to stop it, said some vague thing about getting closure’—”

“Come to think of it,” Iris muses, and dread coils up again in Apollo’s chest, “another factor in my visons ceasing may have been that at the same time of my gaining closure, or immediately after, I spent several years locked up in the iron hell that is prison, as an accomplice to covering up an act of voluntary manslaughter.”

“I - I’m sorry, you what?”

With a tight, pursed-lip smile, Iris shakes her head. “That one is not a story that needs telling now.”

So her experiences are even less applicable to Klavier’s situation, then. Fantastic. “Why are you even telling me anything?” he asks. “I know you said it’s reassurance, for peace of mind, but, why?”

Why does she care?

“I believe that last night I assured Feenie that I would look after his children, yes? That I would not let them come to harm?” She sweeps her hair away from her face, back over her shoulder. “I am doing so.”

“I’m not - Prosecutor Gavin definitely isn’t - I don’t think that’s what Mr Wright meant.”

Her black eyes fix on him, stare straight through him. He’s pretty sure he knows what she’s saying. Do you think I don’t know that?

But he’d rather think that she’s misunderstanding than consider the prospect that one of the fae has taken a kind of maternal interest in them. She’s still fae. Their families don’t function well, do they? She’s got to be expecting something in return, see something useful in them.

And Apollo’s not going to be anyone’s human weapon.

“At any rate,” she says, finally ending that chilling silence that can’t have been more than ten seconds but also felt like it lasted about a thousand years, “you have more information now. Use it if you see the opportunity, as you judge fit and deem best. You know him better than I do.”

That can’t be hard, and doesn’t mean much. Apollo still doesn’t know how he’s supposed to say anything. It would be nice to give Klavier some reassurance that he isn’t cracked in the head more than any man who makes those deliberate aesthetic choices has to be, but this would probably just make him more paranoid. It’s making Apollo more paranoid, to begin to know the scope of what the fae can know, like he wasn’t freaked the hell out and has been ever since Iris called him a dragon. “Yeah,” he says. “Okay.”

“I regret that I know no better way to help than to put this on you,” she says. “That I ask you to be so responsible for someone else’s pain.” At least she acknowledges it. “You have enough troubles of your own to be concerned with.”

Coming from one of the fae, that is the single most ominous statement Apollo has ever heard. He decides like so much else, he’s going to ignore it. “It’s fine,” he says. Not the trouble part, but Klavier. It’s sort of like Phoenix asking him every so often - less frequently as the months pass and October is further away - if he’s heard from Prosecutor Gavin lately, how he’s doing. It’s the same concept, just with more mad fae magic.

Iris scrutinizes him again. He doubts her eyes could be any more piercing when they’re glowing red. “It’s a difficult thing, to care so much for someone who has the same face as someone who so hurt you,” she says. “And a harder thing to see in a mirror.” Again, she sweeps her hair back out of her face, and the glossy red that hides in it the black catches the light. “I suppose I probably will see you again sooner or later, little dragon. Best of luck to you in the meantime - and if there could be any words that he might accept from a faery monster such as myself, I hope one day he will hurt less than I do.”

She��s fae. If she says it, it has to be the truth, in some way or another, but this one seems plain.

Iris scuffs at the sidewalk with her sandal. “I wonder,” she says, “if one of my cousins purposely cracked this so circular.”

And without glancing at Apollo again, she vanishes instantly. None of the pomp of leaving the manor, no flowers left behind. Nothing but a gust of cold air.

Apollo has been home for half an hour when he realizes something else he did wrong. Like a note that would have been left in the margins of one of his clunky middle school essays, reminding him to watch his tenses. What he should have asked Iris was, have you at any point been in love with Mr Wright?

#fic: the witches of los angeles #roddy fanfics

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aceholmes · 5 years

Note

OTP prompt: Narumitsu 38!

“They’re coming. Kiss me!” Phoenix whispers, his voice tinged with shaky excitement. He turns to face his fiancee–no, now husband, he has to pinch himself to make sure he’s not dreaming–on the steps of the courthouse, as the reporters with their flashing cameras and their loud questions draw nearer. It’s hard to believe that they’re legally married, now, and Phoenix has to periodically remind himself to not forget, though the milestone event had just taken place a few minutes ago in that familiar courtroom and a white-gold wedding band now gleams from its place on his ring finger.

“Now? Are you sure?” A crease starts to form between Miles’s eyebrows again, as it does when he gets distressed, and for a moment Phoenix worries that the forming, troubled scowl will take over the blissful smile that currently sits on Miles’s lips. But it doesn’t, and Phoenix relaxes too as Miles looks over the small crowd of reporters.

Phoenix chuckles, finding Miles’s hands by his sides and taking them in his own. “I guess somebody got wind of this, then.” It was supposed to be a small, lowkey event–just the two of them, the judge, and a small, exclusive group of witnesses consisting of family and friends. But somehow, word had gotten out and he suspected it had to do with the fact that Trucy had been squealing about it to her friends for the past month.

He couldn’t blame her, really, for if he were in her place he’d be doing the same. But for now, the situation stands–the reporters crowd around the foot of the building like squabbling birds, each hoping to get their own exclusive interview. Phoenix also knows, from past experience, that they can be god-awful persistent sometimes, and they aren’t going to leave until they get something out of this meeting.

“Just a photo for the tabloids, please? Mister Wright?”

“It’s Mister Edgeworth-Wright now, actually,” responds Phoenix, still almost unbelieving when his new hyphenated surname falls from his lips. He moves even closer to his husband, and gently takes his face in his own shaking hands.

“Just once, please?” He requests, so full of joy he comes dangerously close to tearing up. A loud snap from a camera makes his mind wander for just a moment, but he quickly returns to his current train of thought. “A-anyway, I think a photo of this would be good, for memory’s sake–I still can’t believe all this is real, like I’ll wake up from this surreal dream. But I’ve pinched myself multiple times so I know this has to be, that I’m finally married to the man I love so much, so please–“

“A commemorative photo would look good on our wall, would it not?” Miles returns, quite unexpectedly. “So just let me kiss you.” His hands close gently over the back of Phoenix’s wrists and it’s so tender, so beautiful, that Phoenix knows that he’ll be sobbing with joy once he moves in.

Phoenix expects him to be shaky, uncertain, with all these reporters around, but when Miles doesn’t pull back after a quick peck, he relaxes into the kiss too and enjoys the way Miles takes his time, the way he sighs against Phoenix’s lips, the way he pours everything into that single gesture and–

Then he pulls away. It wasn’t their first kiss on the courthouse steps, nor would it be their last, they both knew. Phoenix embraces him immediately afterwards, a tight, crushing hug that makes Miles stutter in surprise at first.

“I love you so much it’s almost unreal, Miles,” sighs Phoenix, letting his tears fall freely as the joyful ache in his chest spreads. “Thank you so much.”

“I have much to thank you for, as well.” Miles pulls back, and upon seeing Phoenix’s expression, overwhelmed with emotion, takes a handkerchief from his pocket and starts wiping at his husband’s face. He’s trembling too, and Phoenix knows that he’s just as overjoyed as he is. Miles gives one last look at the crowd before guiding Phoenix in the direction of the courthouse doors. “Let us retreat inside, for a while.”

Phoenix nods, and they leave with arms slung around each other.

#ace attorney #phoenix wright #miles edgeworth #narumitsu #wrightworth #fic #mine

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mylittleedgey · 5 years

Text

Just Give Me a Reason

Phoenix Wright was used to operating on the fly when it came to his relationship with Miles Edgeworth. Sometimes it was smooth sailing, sometimes it was harsh words that needed to be said, and sometimes it was just harsh words. Sometimes it was making up, sometimes it was two angry men trying to navigate a small room without acknowledging the other’s presence, and sometimes it was amazing sex. Often it was a mixture of those things. Phoenix was getting used to falling asleep with just a few inches of their backs touching, mirroring each other like a large antisocial butterfly spread out over the sheets. He’d learned from experience that they normally woke up in each other’s arms. If being in crisis was normal, then at least pulling off miraculous turnabouts at the last second were nearly as easy to count on.

Today’s crisis began with a panicked call from a detective who’s main skills were misinterpreting facts and jumping to conclusions. Phoenix knew from years of painful experience that that a call like this normally meant everything was about to go straight to hell, with about even chances that Gumshoe would turn out to be the cause or not. “Listen, Pal, no one’s supposed to know about this, not even me-” he began.

“-especially you, let’s be honest,” Phoenix interrupted sarcastically. He’d lost count of the number of times Gumshoe’s well-meant tips had made things worse for himself or the prosecutor he’d been paired with. He always told himself that next time he wouldn’t act until he’d heard the truth straight from the source, and yet, he didn’t hang up the phone. The chances were too high that it involved him.

“Well, you’re a close second, Pal, and at least I don’t have to sleep on the couch every time he’s angry at me! Anyway, it’s about Mr Edgeworth, of course.” As if the two had anything in common besides their dangerously low incomes and their mutual obsession over a certain brooding prosecutor. “He’s been making calls all over Europe the last few days, and he’s just about to leave for the airport! He even had fake appointments for the rest of the day!”

Phoenix felt his stomach drop. “But, still,” he started, trying to force normal words out of his suddenly dry mouth. “That doesn’t mean anything. He could be picking someone up, or…” His mind was suddenly hyper-fixated on the conversation last night where Miles had declined to meet for dinner. He simply wasn’t available. He didn’t offer a reason, and Phoenix knew better than to ask. There was always tomorrow.

Until one day there wasn’t.

And Gumshoe didn’t need to know it, but it had been weeks since he’d seen the inside of Miles’ bedroom. It’s not that they were fighting, not technically…

…Fighting would be better. They were hardly talking. It wasn’t the silence of two angry men who needed time to let their egos calm down before they could make up, either. It was two men who wanted to talk to each other desperately, that had more to say than they knew how to express, two men who were (hopefully) still very much in love but overwhelmed by the circumstances. Troubles beyond what they could have foreseen, even after everything they’d already been through. An elephant in the room that he wasn’t sure they could surmount.

A tiny elephant with brown hair and a contagious laugh and a penchant for magic tricks.

Phoenix himself had been the one to introduce a stranger into the relationship, without the consent and certainly without the approval of the other party. That would have been enough to throw the status of their relationship into question even without the far-reaching scandal that had destroyed his career and was currently drawing his partner’s ethics into question. He had been trying to remain optimistic for his new daughter’s sake, even when he couldn’t bring himself to believe he deserved for things to go well, he knew how unrealistic it would be to just assume things could be smoothed out. A large part of him had expected this weeks ago. “Listen, Gumshoe,” he finally continued, trying to keep his voice calm, “there’s a lot going on right now. Thank you for the heads up, but if he’s made up his mind-”

“But I don’t think he has! You’ve had him moping for weeks, but he’s been different the last few days. Y’know, quiet, nervous, jumping at stuff, like he does when he’s really lost in his thinking! I think he’s about to make a really big decision. And, y’know, Pal,” here his voice got a little lower. “You ain’t been that good for him recently, but still I think you should be there. Ya gotta try, anyway.”

“I…” Hope wasn’t what he needed right now. Hope had gotten him everywhere in life: his profession, his public standing, and even the relationship he hadn’t dreamed was possible; but it had let him down this time. Right now what he needed to do was work on managing expectations, and that included accepting that Miles Edgeworth wasn’t actually obligated to take on the role of father to go with his newly acquired reputation as a prosecutor dating a disbarred attorney. Hope was selfish. “He should do what’s best for him.”

There was a very long pause, during which he swore he could hear the detective’s mood switch at least three times. “Listen, Pal, if I can be frank,” he finally started, an uncharacteristic edge to his voice, “If you’re done with Mr Edgeworth, you should just tell him. This ain’t fair.”

“Done with him? Me?! Listen, Detective,”

“No, you listen! You haven’t been to his office in two weeks-”

“-You think I’m welcome there?!” Phoenix snapped.

Gumshoe didn’t even pause, “You think he’s welcome here?! You think nobody mentions you just ‘cause you ain’t been visiting lately?! Mr. Edgeworth has put his life into this job for years, he can’t just drop everything and run because you made a mistake, and,” Phoenix was cut off before he could protest, “I don’t even care whether you did it or not, you made a mistake and you gotta own up to that! Mr Edgeworth defends you a dozen times a day, why can’t you speak for yourself once in a while?!” There was a disturbingly wet sniffle. “If I could do anything to help him through this, I wouldn’t even question it! I… I’d even call the chief stupid!”

It took a second for Phoenix to finish cycling through the emotions the sudden rant had caused. He found his pride was most hurt by the fact that he had no comeback to Gumshoe’s logic. He must have gotten better at lying to himself if he could get himself to believe things even Gumshoe wouldn’t buy. “Listen, Detective,” he began warily, “if I’m the reason he’s suffering, why on earth do you think seeing me would help anything?”

There was another long pause, and then Gumshoe replied in an extremely disappointed voice, “I dunno, Pal. I guess I just assumed you two were in love.” A beep ended the conversation.

It was difficult to process what had just happened. He had just been told off by Gumshoe about his love life. Detective Gumshoe, who’d pined after Maggey for years without ever making a single move that didn’t make things drastically worse. Gumshoe, who only followed after Miles and did what he was told, who wouldn’t stand up for himself if his paycheck or job or even his life was on the line.

Gumshoe, who was always willing to risk everything for his boss, regardless of whether or not he was benefiting from it. Who trusted his boss to make the right decision every time. Who, in his own way, had loved Miles for almost a decade, probably more than the poor detective even loved himself.

Love. He and Miles respected each other deeply when it came down to the line, and trusted each other implicitly. They had managed to carry the bumbling lust of a first tryst and work it into a familiarity that had yet to take the edge off of their incessant need for each other. If you had asked him a month ago if they were in love, he probably would have just responded with a self-depreciating smile. Did it matter? There would be time enough to figure all that out when things calmed down. Now, the question made his stomach turn sour with anxiety. Love? Not blindly like Dollie or protectively like with Trucy. What he had with Miles was something strong enough that he would walk through fire without even questioning whether it was necessary, but it was still young enough he felt awkward asking to reschedule a date. It was something like a sharp cliff; the base was sturdy and would probably survive after everything else had crumbled away, but the edge was constantly breaking down, subject to landslides, eternally changing. It wasn’t something you could just define, tomorrow it might be something completely different.

Miles was so much to him.

But what was he to Miles?

Almost automatically, he picked up his phone off the desk. He would probably never understand the inner workings of Miles Edgeworth, and he was even less likely to interpret how it applied to their complicated bond, but he knew someone who deserved to be part of the dialogue.

Maya picked up on the third ring. “What’s up, Nick? Adopted another kid you need to have looked after?” She snickered. “I don’t do bulk discounts, you know.”

“Hey, Maya? This is weird, but can I talk to Trucy?”

“Yeah, whatever. Need some advice?” she laughed, handing the phone over. “At least you know who’s the adult in your house!”

The phone thumped a little as small hands wrestled the phone into place. “Hi, Daddy!”

“Hey, Trucy, how are you doing?”

“Great!” Trucy giggled. “Aunt Maya’s trying to figure out how I keep making all the cookies disappear!” Her voice became louder and more distorted, presumably because she was cupping her hand against the phone to be secretive. “I ate them.”

“Don’t give Aunt Maya too much trouble, okay? I need her to still like you enough to babysit you,” he joked.

“Everybody likes me!” she proclaimed loudly, the scuffling of a chair implying that she thought this statement was worthy of standing up. “I’m the amazing Trucy Wright!”

Phoenix laughed again. “Well, you’re Daddy’s favorite, that’s for sure.” He paused for a second, taking a deep breath. “You know Mr. Edgeworth, right?”

“Yeah!” She responded enthusiastically. “He’s really pretty. He needs a better agent. When we saw him on TV yesterday they didn’t even center the camera on him! He’s the best talent they have, they should treat him like it!”

Phoenix gave a sad half-smile to the receiver. “Well, I’ve heard he’s going to England.”

He heard her shift the phone excitedly. “Does he have a new gig?”

“Yeah, I guess. Something like that.” Phoenix replied.

“Sounds exciting!” she exclaimed. In the silence after the statement, she seemed to quickly pick up his unease. “But you’re gonna miss him, huh?”

“Yeah, Honey,” he admitted quietly, “a whole bunch.”

“So, go kiss him goodbye! And tell him you’ll miss him! Don’t you watch movies?!” She sounded as angry as a little girl could muster. “He’ll miss you too, you know!”

“You really think so?”

He could practically hear her little eyes roll. “Daddy…” she explained with exaggerated patience. “Mr. Edgeworth’s whole thing is that he’s really good at catching bad guys, right? If he really thought you were a bad guy, he wouldn’t keep insisting that everyone say ‘alleged’ when they talk about bad things you’ve done. ‘Allegedly’ done.” she corrected herself, and giggled.

He didn’t realize she’d picked up on that, although every media outlet in the country had made multiple references to it. And while their relationship wasn’t common public knowledge yet, any amount of familiarity invariably reflected badly on Miles. “You don’t think he’s gotten sick of me?”

There was a long pause. “Daddy, are you sick of me?” She finally said, and his chest seized. She was still young and confident enough that it was still rhetorical, but it was still a dangerous question. A question that a child should never have to ask, especially one who had already lost two parents.

“Of course not, Honey, you know I love you more than anything. Aunt Maya has to watch you while I finish all this paperwork about why I don’t get to be a lawyer anymore, but we all know she’s not allowed to keep you, right? I’d miss you too much.”

“So why do you think Mr Edgeworth doesn’t like you?”

Christ, he could write a book. An entire series, with hourly updates on the official blog to remind the world what he’d done in the last ten minutes that would make Miles Edgeworth regret being seen in the same room as him. But how to explain that to Trucy…

No, if she had caught on to the significance of what ‘alleged’ meant for both of their careers, she had to realize how tense things were on the few occasions when “uncle” Miles had shown up. She probably even realized that at least some of that tension involved her. He knew she was almost unnaturally perceptive. He wasn’t even sure when she’d realized that his relationship with Miles was the kind of thing that warranted a kiss goodbye, but he found he wasn’t surprised that he knew. “Honey, you know Edgeworth and I have been fighting, right?”

“Yeah.” He was surprised how vulnerable her voice sounded all of a sudden. “It’s hard to hear.”

“I’m sorry, Truce, I-”

“It’s not like you’re too mean.” she interrupted. “Dad- my other Dad, he gets in fights a lot. Sometimes he even punched people. I didn’t like that. The yelling hurt too.” “Sweetie...”

“You and Mr Edgeworth are different.” she continued quietly. “I can tell you’re mad, but… I don’t think you’re mad at each other. And you don’t really want to be right either, so it doesn’t even matter if you win or lose. It just hurts.”

Holy shit. Magic was her calling, but her was certain that they could set up the agency as a counselor tomorrow and make more money in their first week than he pulled in as a lawyer in the average month. Just the fact that he’d managed to gain such a wonderful daughter was the closest thing he had to proof that he hadn’t ruined everything. “And you still think he likes me?”

“Daddy, he loves you.” she replied. “He wouldn't fight like that if he didn’t.”

“You really think so?” He should probably feel ridiculous relying on his daughter to bolster his confidence before he went to confront his boyfriend over his still theoretic and totally justified abandonment, but at the moment all he cold think of was how much better she seemed to be reading the situation. If she believed it was worth a shot, then maybe…

“Daddy...” the tiny clairvoyant mood seemed to pass as quickly as it had begun, and now she was just another long-suffering child dealing with a clueless parent. “He thinks you’re pretty. Even I don’t think you’re pretty.” In the background, Maya burst out laughing. “Besides, you want to kiss him, right? It’s good for both of you!”

He couldn’t stifle a chuckle. Trucy was still Trucy, thank goodness. “You know what, Honey? I’ll do that. Thanks.”

“Kiss him for me too,” she laughed, “You can kiss him on the mouth if you want, as long as you tell him that part was your idea. Oh, and tell him I know a guy that can help him with his sound checks! He’s got a nice voice, they just need to wire him better.”

Kiss him goodbye. That wasn’t too much to ask, was it? If he managed to even find Miles, and didn’t get chased off immediately, he could kiss his boyfriend goodbye and tell him there would always be a place for him here if he got lonely. And if he didn’t, well… Phoenix Wright had plenty of practice pining after Miles Edgeworth. He’d survive.

“Thank you, Truce.”

“Go get him, Daddy!”

“I’ll try, Sweetheart. Be nice to Aunt Maya, okay?”

“Yep!” The call ended.

Phoenix grabbed his wallet and headed for the door, intentionally avoiding the mirror. He already knew Miles wasn’t dating him for his looks or fashion sense or career, or anything else that readily came to mind. Getting his suit out would only waste time and make him more recognizable to gawkers. If he had any chance of pulling off a miracle, his pride wasn’t going to enter into things. In fact, the less he thought about it logically, the better. This was one for the heart.

THIS WAS WHERE WE LEFT OFF–

Fortunately, it was easy to catch a shuttle to the airport from the Gatewater, and if Gumshoe had been right and Miles wasn’t leaving just yet, he might even have gotten there first. Besides, he knew the prosecutor well enough to be confident enough that Miles would never resort to a taxi. He had to be storing his car, which meant more delays. And on an international flight, it could still be hours before he actually left.

If only his dumb ass hadn’t gotten him stuck in arrivals. It never ceased to confound him how such a huge airport could constantly manage to have the same population and hostile, zombie-eyed energy of an overcrowded high school. He was scanning the area with growing apprehension, wondering what to do. He could try to find departures, although the time and energy it would take to force his way against the current of humanity would mean he’d show up at the right area missing his sunglasses, most of his sanity, and possibly a few fingers, just in time to catch a glimpse of one of the nicest asses in Los Angeles passing through a metal detector behind four security fences. He’d look great on the news being arrested as a terrorist who jumped a counter in the name of love. At least he knew a good defense attorney…

...Oh wait, not anymore.

He was surprised how much the realization still managed to hurt.

He could page Miles and see just how mad that made him. Did they even page people at airports anymore? It would be easy enough to convince someone of the uselessness of his piece of crap phone, but Miles would know exactly what was happening even if they didn’t give his name. He should probably just hang his head in shame and crawl back to his office and be glad he hadn’t had a chance to make things even worse. If this was a movie, he’d be sitting here on the brink of despair when all of a sudden a flash of magenta would catch him off guard.

A little girl in a dark pink dress happened to be taking off her coat in the corner of his vision at that exact moment and nearly gave him a heart attack. No, of course it wasn’t Miles, because this wasn’t a stupid movie and he had a feeling he wasn’t anywhere near the nadir of his fall from grace anyway. He apologized profusely to the family he had frightened and pretended he had mistaken her mother for someone he knew because it seemed slightly less creepy than saying he thought her young daughter was his boyfriend, and made his way to the bathroom to get a hold of himself.

And there was Miles Edgeworth in the flesh. Tall and harried and unfairly beautiful, leaning against a suitcase that was far too large to be meant for a weekend trip. He was sipping tea from a national chain Phoenix knew he could hardly stand and trying badly to pretend he didn’t hate everyone within a hundred yards of him. Phoenix slowly edged around the masses of people, trying to get closer without looking suspicious.

God, he looked tired. He always tended to look overworked, but this was beyond a Miles who had suffered through a hard day at work and needed a glass of wine before he was willing to talk about it. This was Miles on day two of a three day trial, considering a nicotine patch just to keep him awake and re-applying concealer in the bathroom because he was raised to be perfect and perfection didn’t show up to court looking like a drug addict in a nice suit. This was Miles holding together because failure wasn’t an option even when nothing else was a possibility anymore, and he was the Miles that always caused Phoenix and Gumshoe to hold their breath and hope this wasn’t the millstone that broke the camel’s back.

That was the look of a man who had had three cases in the last two days appealed simply because Phoenix Wright had touched the case, and their shared history alone was proof enough that someone needed to take a closer look.

That was entirely Phoenix’s fault, and as Gumshoe has pointed out earlier, he hadn’t really been doing anything to make things better. And here he was, in sweat pants with a ratty old beanie pulled over his hair and his favorite pair of sunglasses that made him look like any one of thousands of people going through a personal scandal. What did he have to offer? He wanted to run.

And god, did he want to kiss that man.

Hold him and kiss his tired eyes and tell him it was okay, there had just been a misunderstanding and his stupid boyfriend hadn’t ruined both of their lives thinking he could handle things on his own. Call a cab and give him a back-rub and a good meal and make sure he got a good night’s sleep whether he wanted it or not, and maybe in the morning they could talk about their relationship if there was anything left of it.

He was considering his options when the man with the silver hair happened to glance in his direction. He froze, but Miles didn’t even look surprised. “Goddamn it, Gumshoe’s got to be afraid of a living wage.” He turned back like that was the end of the conversation.

Phoenix stepped forward. “I…”

“What did he even tell you?”

“He just said you were leaving for the airport and if I hurried I might be able to catch you before you left.” Forget that kiss goodbye, not in front of all these people. If he really loved the man, he should let Miles punch him out in front of the crowd. Let him leave on a high note after weeks of being abused by Phoenix Wright simply existing.

“You…” It seemed to take a moment for the words to sink in, Miles must be even more exhausted than even Phoenix realized. “…Listen, I don’t think you have any idea what’s going on here, but I need you to leave right now.We can discuss this later.”

“What’s to discuss?” Phoenix asked with a wry smile, removing his sunglasses. “You’ve held out longer than I thought you would. I just wanted to say I’m sorry it’s come to this.”

“Come to…” Confusion momentarily overtook the irritation in Miles’ voice. “Come to what, exactly? At what point did you finally notice things had gotten out of hand?”

Phoenix shrugged the question off. “Yeah, I know, I’ve been screwing everything up since the whole thing started, right? Why should this be any different?”

“That’s not what I meant, and I’ll thank you not to twist my words-”

“Easy, I’m not blaming you for anything. I just wanted to…” kiss him, that’s what he had set out to do, wasn’t it? Show up like the arrogant prick he was and demand a kiss from a man he’d inadvertently tried to ruin. “Hey,” he asked suddenly, “would you like to punch me out?”

“What?!”

“The press would eat it up, you know, everyone’s got a camera these days, it would be all over the news by this afternoon. At least it would give you something to talk about when you get to wherever you’re going besides what terrible taste you have in men.”

“Listen, Wright, I assume you think you’re helping with something, but I assure you that you aren’t.” Miles was finally showing signs of true, intense agitation around the edges of his frazzled confusion. “When is the last time you actually tried to talk to me? Now you want to look like a martyr?”

“No, not a martyr, just an asshole.” Phoenix returned. “Isn’t that what everyone’s thinking anyway?” He glanced around. A few people had paused around them, either recognizing the minor celebrities or just smelling a public breakdown. It occurred to him that people who didn’t recognize them must be wondering what sort of business the man in the dirty hoodie with stubble that said he was never expected to be presentable anywhere might have with the person who looked like some sort of minor royalty in a period piece. Someone must have alerted security already. Whatever was going to happen would have to happen soon.

“Wright, this is not the time. Honestly, I’ll be the first to admit we could use more communication, but you have somehow managed to pick the worst possible time to initiate it, and even by your twisted logic this is wildly inappropriate.”

“Come on, Sweetheart, I know you’re good for it.” Phoenix persisted, taking Miles’ wrist more roughly than he had intended. Even he wasn’t sure why he was so insistent about a physical altercation. Perhaps he was afraid of the lack of passion in their voices. If what they had was ending, shouldn’t it end with the same fire that had forced them together in the first place? The relationship had been short, but the events leading up to it overshadowed both of their lives. “Do something,” he insisted. “I’m not just some stranger asking for change.”

Miles looked at the hand trapping his and then back at the owner of said hand. “After everything we’ve been through, can’t you just trust me?”

That was fair, honestly it was more than fair. Miles had never intentionally hurt him during their brief but intense relationship, and a man who didn’t order takeout without an intense inner dialogue about his decision wouldn’t have just up and left without considering the consequences of his actions. He should just trust Miles to make the right decision. But standing here, inches away from the man who he’d pursued for over a decade, it struck him just how difficult it would be to accept that what was best for Miles was to leave and not look back. Certainly without a kiss goodbye. It wasn’t that Miles had dispassionately concluded that his use for Phoenix Wright had ended, it was a man who had dedicated weeks to trying to drag his unresponsive partner out of an engorged river and was finally having to accept that getting himself killed over a lost cause wasn’t accomplishing anything. “I…” he started, with no words in his mind to finish the though.

The last time Miles had left, it had taken fifteen years to catch up. This time, would it even be possible?

“Miles?”

Both men turned to see the confused man who had just exited the bathroom and was now standing a few feet behind Miles, still drying his hands on a linen handkerchief as he surveyed the scene. He was very average in almost every regard, but in a strangely comforting way. He somehow gave off the feeling of a relative you hadn’t seen for a while but remembered on almost an instinctual level as being a source of comfort, perhaps an uncle. He was certainly old enough to be, with gray hair fashionably beginning to dust his temples and glasses that only made him look more refined. Phoenix was the first to admit he didn’t know as much about suits as his profession would suggest, but he realized at first glance that the suit the man was wearing was most likely custom and definitely closer to Miles’ budget than his own. “Who is this?” The man asked with a faint but refined accent.

Phoenix would have liked to have something to say at this point, if only so that the first impression of him was that he was a coherent human being capable of rational speech, but unfortunately his mouth had become incapable of such niceties the moment it registered that a total stranger had referred to Miles by his first name with no reaction. He’d never even heard Franziska refer to him by his given name without tacking on his last. Hell, they’d been dating for months, and he still knew better than to throw the epitaph around carelessly. But this man… He looked to Miles, who had gone totally silent. There was no attempt to return his eye contact. “Miles?” he repeated softly.

“Excuse me, may I help you?” The other man stepped forward, taking a worried glance at Miles’s obvious discomfort. “Do you have some business with Miles?”

Phoenix supposed the man could be considered handsome. Not his own type at all, but he had to admit that the man, while definitely many years older than himself or Miles, seemed fashionable and well-aged. It was more than that, though, something in the eyes or the wrinkles by his mouth, that made him look soft and kind. Not the kind of person he would have expected to turn Miles Edgeworth’s head, but somehow he looked like the kind that would be strong and stable enough to support the troubled man through his hectic life without piling on extra unnecessary stress. A relationship a man like Miles truly deserved.

He knew he was able to satisfy Miles sexually. The man standing between them probably had no idea that the refined and outwardly repressed prosecutor had introduced the subject of bondage the first time Phoenix had stayed the night at his place, or that they’d had to establish a safe word that same evening after Miles had gotten so loud they’d had to pause and confirm that unless it involved that one certain word, the volume should be considered an indication that everything was perfect and he should not under any circumstances stop. Two weeks after they had gotten together Gumshoe had actually hugged him, tears in his eyes as he thanked Phoenix for whatever it was he was doing, because in the almost ten years they’d worked together he hadn’t even realized Mr Edgeworth could be that relaxed. Gumshoe definitely hadn’t caught on that Phoenix’s main objective in that moment had been to distract the detective from how fast Miles had ran for the bathroom or that his bangs were wet when he returned, but he definitely noticed when he dropped some decisive evidence and his boss shrugged it off without comment. For a few perfect weeks they had been living like rock stars.

But as a couple their relationship was mostly hard spikes and sharp edges, no pun intended, and after his scandal things were getting roughed up faster than they could force them back down into place. A couple of spectacular orgasms a week didn’t even begin to justify what Miles had been through lately. Even then, this was the closest they’d been physically.

And yet, the idea that Miles had reached out to another for emotional support hurt so much more than the thought of him finding a convenient body to warm the other side of bed. “I get it.” he finally said quietly, trying to keep the tears out of his voice. He’d embarrassed himself enough.

“I highly doubt that.” Miles replied coolly, still looking away. He looked more upset at the inconvenience of the scene being played out in front of him than he did embarrassed or conflicted. He just wanted it to be over. In some ways, that hurt the most.

“No, I get it. Honestly, you’ve held out longer than I deserved.” A kiss goodbye, that had seemed like such an obtainable goal this morning. This was exactly what he deserved for listening to the lies of hope. Anger rose up in his throat, at everything, the world that had put him in this position and himself for allowing it to happen. At this other man simply for looking exactly like the source of mental and professional stimulation he’d never been able to be for Miles. At Miles himself for letting things get to this point without saying anything. For that look that was too exhausted to even be ashamed. “Listen,” He had no idea what he was going to say, but he knew something had to be said. He was surprised by the pain and challenge in his own voice. “I’m not quite as stupid as you think I am-”

“No, you listen,” Suddenly the other man was between them, blocking Miles’ body with his own. “I don’t know what your problem is, but-”

“Robert.” Miles finally spoke up, his voice quiet and reluctant as he put his hand on the man’s shoulder gently. That hurt too, physical familiarity was not something Miles was readily comfortable with. “I appreciate your concern, but this is something I need to deal with personally.” The gesture was enough to quiet both men down, waiting in silence for the prosecutor to speak. Even in his anger, Phoenix could tell that the other man held a deep respect for Miles and was willing to wait for an explanation before jumping to conclusions. “I would like to introduce you to Phoenix Wright. We’ve spoken of his recent troubles, which I can only assume are responsible for him acting like this.”

Robert’s face seemed to lighten instantly. “Why, I didn’t recognize you without the suit! And that silly hat. Yes, of course, I’ve heard…” he turned back to Miles, and was suddenly quiet again, as if realizing there was more to the story.

“I’ll admit that our communication has been strained recently, but the last time we actually discussed it, I was under the impression we were still a couple.”

Phoenix’s heart caught in his throat as Robert looked from one face to the other with shock. “I had no idea-” he stammered, and then went quiet again.

“And Phoenix Wright, I had hoped that this would be under different circumstances, but I would like to introduce you to Robert Edgeworth, my uncle. I assume you understand how circumstances kept us from speaking for most of my life, but we reconnected in Brussels two years ago. I’ve asked him to stay out here for a week as my guest.” He cleared his throat as he thought over his words. “There were things I felt more comfortable speaking about in person rather than over the phone.”

And this would probably be that nadir he had been thinking about: The exact moment that he was able to pinpoint what exactly he saw in the other man that would be such a comfort to Miles and realized it was how closely he resembled Gregory Edgeworth. “I-I, um, I’m Phoenix Wright… I guess you knew that. It’s such an honor to meet you, Sir, I, um, I didn’t realize- he never talked about- n-not that he hasn’t talked about you, just not to me! I mean…” Now words were coming without thoughts or pauses as he tried to decide the most socially acceptable way to excuse himself to find a good hole to crawl into to die.

“Don’t worry about it, Mr. Wright, Pleasure to meet you.” Robert offered his hand awkwardly. “I was aware that the two of you were close, but I didn’t think… I wouldn’t presume…” he glanced back towards his nephew.

“It’s complicated.” Miles said quietly. “Significantly more so as of late.”

“Yes, I can see where it would be.” Robert said, his voice filled with concern. “And you said that he had recently adopted a young girl, didn’t he?”

“I personally need a drink.” Miles announced. “I don’t live far, and I honestly don’t think I’ll be driving again today. Wright…” he paused. “I don’t even know what to do with you right now.”

“I can get lost, no problem.” Phoenix mumbled. “I mean, you’re still welcome to that punch, if you’d like. You’ve certainly earned it.”

Miles’ expression was too exhausted to show his emotions properly, everything came out as profound, soul-crushing disappointment. “I suppose you’re free to do what you like. I’ve never expected otherwise from you, anyway.” He was still avoiding eye contact, and it finally hit Phoenix exactly what he had been accusing his partner of.

“After everything we’ve been through, can’t you just trust me?”

He trusted Miles with his life. Even the lives of the people closest to him, which was significantly more impressive because he actually cared about their well-being. He idolized Miles so much that he had automatically assumed infidelity was a normal, healthy thing for to do before it occurred to him that such an action would be out of character for the prosecutor.

He was so deeply devoted to the man that he’d practically forced Miles out the door towards a better future without even asking for his opinion.

“I’m so sorry,” Phoenix stammered, having trouble forcing the words past the lump in his throat, “I… I guess I just got so used to the idea that I was dragging you down that I just assumed…” the words died on his lips. There was really no way to recover. “I hope the two of you have a great time...” He abruptly turned to go.

A hand caught the back of his sweatshirt. “You don’t don’t mind, right, Miles? I’d hate to think I’d strained your relationship further.” Miles shrugged without glancing in their direction. “Then as my guest, please.” Robert addressed Phoenix directly. “At least until we get to the house. I need to thank you for saving my nephew’s life.”

“It’s nothing. It was a long time ago.” Phoenix mumbled. Miles continued towards the exit with the larger of the suitcases.

“Nonsense.” Robert returned. “You fought Manfred Von Karma for his sake. Some of the bravest men I’ve known would balk at that.” He glanced back at his nephew, who had retrieved the suitcase and was walking towards the exit without comment. “And you won, boy! Do you know how impossible that was? I underestimated him once, I’ll never forgive myself.” His voice dropped, and he leaned in closer. “I tried to sue for custody, I was his uncle, I had a steady income and a stable job and I was cocky young bastard... By the time the ordeal was over it cost me my practice in the states. The man was a monster, Mr. Wright.”

Phoenix cringed away from the words. “Please, Mr. Edgeworth, it was nothing. I didn’t even do it on my own, I got help from everyone. The press didn’t show how strong Miles had to be.”

“Mr. Wright...” That sad smile. Phoenix hadn’t even realized he had so many memories of Gregory Edgeworth until he met Robert. If it was affecting him so much, what could Miles be feeling? “I lost my brother, and there was nothing I could do about it, but I almost lost my nephew too. I can’t speak for Miles, but I know I can never repay you for what you’ve given back to me. I can’t imagine how my nephew must feel. He needs you, probably more than he needs me. Please, Mr. Wright.” His gray eyes glinted earnestly, and for the first time in years Phoenix wondered how Miles would be with a nurturing guardian. “For the ride over, at least, I’m sure you would be appreciated.” He turned to catch up to Miles.

Against his better judgment, Phoenix followed him.

Conversation was nearly impossible as the two less experienced men struggled with keeping Miles in sight as he wove through people and cars with the air of someone who must visit this airport several times a month. He didn’t look back or address either of them until he arrived at his car. Finally he turned, and seemed to notice for the first time that both men were still there. Phoenix stood still guiltily, like a child awaiting punishment, for the surprise to turn to resentment, but it never did. “Let me see if I can get these in the trunk.” he finally said. “It might be tight, but we should manage.”

“You have your father’s taste in vehicles, I see.” Robert smiled, and it took Phoenix a tense second to notice the shy, barely-repressed grin as Miles mumbled a thanks. “Even his color. Did you ever see the photos of his cars when he was younger?”

“A few.” Miles admitted. “He kept a picture of the Spider in his office, sort of in the back. Andrea, wasn’t it?”

“I remember her. Robert smiled. I still think Sarah wanted him to sell that one because he didn’t stop referring to it as his girlfriend until after they were engaged.” Robert let a hand trail lovingly along the well-polished hood. “His priorities changed when he had a child, but I’m sure he would have been thrilled to know you inherited his love.” He wiped a tear out of the edge of his eye with the base of his palm. “I’ll stop now.”

It hadn’t occurred to Phoenix just how little Miles must know about his father. Truth, justice, protecting people that couldn’t protect themselves, all of that had become a mantra that stuck with the boy until adulthood, but little things, preferred movies, book, foods… Most of it wouldn’t come up in normal conversation with a nine year old. Just knowing that he had a link with his father must be more precious to him than breathing after surviving on scraps for so long. Phoenix watched the two other men talk with relative ease as Miles somehow managed to get the huge suitcase into the back of the car.

He felt like an intruder in an extremely intimate scene, and at the same time he felt immensely blessed to be here at such a magical event in his partner’s life. There was something deeper though, not jealousy, he was thrilled to see Miles connecting with his past in a positive way. No, it was more like dread. He had always seen Miles as a cornerstone of his childhood, a rock that diverted his life from an unfocused kid to the path he had followed for most of his life. He was suddenly struck by the ugly thought that he wasn’t even a particularly strong link to his lover’s past. Here was a living relative who actually knew Gregory Edgeworth, and he has always counted himself as something special for remembering a few words Miles had said about a book he hadn’t even bothered to read.

Miles turned to Phoenix again when he closed the trunk. He seemed to be waiting for some response, but Phoenix didn’t have one. “I… I can still get lost if you want. I realize how important this is,” he offered lamely.

“I’m not asking you to leave.” Miles replied. He certainly wasn’t asking Phoenix to stay either, but after everything the prosecutor been subjected to today, he deserved to have his partner stick out his own neck.

“I...” Phoenix cleared his throat. “I’m sorry about everything. I should know by now not to listen to Gumshoe.”

“And I should have known better than to think I’d managed to keep him from interfering.”

“I,” Words were so stupid. In all these thousands of years, why hadn’t mankind invented a way for people to actually communicate their feelings? “I’ve just felt so useless lately. All I do is cause problems for you.”

“If you think we started dating because I thought being in close proximity to you would make my life less complicated, I’m afraid you’re very much in error.”

“No, I...” Over Miles’ shoulder, Phoenix could see Robert jerking his head towards his nephew. He wasn’t quite sure what it was meant to suggest, but if their short conversation had been any indication Robert was expecting something. “I...” He stepped forward with no real plan. “I...” Up this close, Miles was even more breathtaking, and somehow even more exhausted than he had looked in the harsh light by the baggage pickup. “Oh, Miles...” His brain was still telling him that this was all stupid, he didn’t even deserve to touch Miles after everything he’d put them through today, and if you took the last month into account he didn’t deserve to exist in the same city. Everything he’d done so far had only managed to dig the hole different. He ignored that voice and wrapped his arms around his poor, worn out boyfriend.

Miles was all one tense muscle as Phoenix settled into him, pulling his arms tighter as he was enveloped in the familiar smell and warmth and realized that the last time they’d just gotten lost in each other he had been a single man with a career ahead of him. That was lifetimes away, but here was Miles, still warm and solid and… familiar. Somehow, despite Phoenix’s terrible luck and horrendous judgment, this was still available to him. “I’m sorry, Miles. Let me make it up to you.” He couldn’t think of anything he had to offer, but Miles was here in front of him and not pushing him away. That was worth anything to him.

Miles hadn’t let go of his tension yet. “Is this just how it is now?” He asked, his voice ragged. “Nothing for days and then accusations out of nowhere?You’ve always expounded on your unshakable trust, and yet-”

“I trust you, Miles.” Phoenix whispered. “I never stopped believing in you, I just don’t believe in me right now.”

“Without you there’s hardly us, Phoenix.”

“Do you still want us? Even after everything that’s happened?”

“...Do you?”

It was hardly fair to turn it about like that, but hell, Miles had earned it and more after everything he’d put up with. “I’d give anything short of Trucy to keep us.”

He wouldn’t have thought it possible, but the man in his arms stiffened more at the mention of the young girl, and Phoenix could have sworn his heart just stopped cold, its last beat echoing through his empty chest. “She… needs you, doesn’t she?”

“Yeah.”

“And it had to be you, didn’t it?” Miles asked, voice wavering. “She doesn’t just need a father, she needs Phoenix Wright.”

Phoenix felt his heart, still cold and unbeating, drop out of his chest. “I really believe she does,” he answered quietly.

There was a choked, broken noise in back of Miles’ throat. “It’s not fair,” Miles croaked.

“I know, I’m sorry.” Phoenix whispered. He hadn’t realized it was possible to hurt this much after everything he’d been through. He had been sure there was too much scar tissue on his heart for a fresh scar to be possible, but here it was, bleeding new blood. “I love you.” As he spoke the words aloud he realized he had the answer to the morning’s doubts. “If there’s any way I can keep you both in my life, I promise I’ll do anything. If you just tell me there’s a chance someday, just enough hope to keep me going...” He was wrong. He needed hope more than anything. He needed to believe the universe wouldn’t make him throw away one love to protect the other. “Please...”

Miles was silent for several seconds more. “I don’t understand children. I didn’t understand them when I was one. I don’t know what you think you can expect from me.” His voice was so strained it hurt to hear.

“This isn’t your fight, Miles.” Phoenix replied quietly. “I meant it when I said you’ve already held out longer that I deserved.”

Miles hissed through clenched teeth, eyes flicking around in what Phoenix was quickly identifying as a panic attack. “Are you telling me to let go, then?”

“I don’t know what I’m saying, I just know that every time I talk I make things worse and I don’t know what to do!” His head was pounding, but it wasn’t something that could be defined as a headache, it was more like his thoughts were so conflicted they were refusing to coexist inside the same skull.

“Excuse me,” a quiet voice came from behind him, and Phoenix turned when he felt a hand on his shoulder, easing him aside. “I realize I’m a stranger under these circumstances, but I think I understand better why I was asked here.”

Miles gritted his teeth. “I certainly didn’t ask you here to be my personal therapist, Robert.” His voice was laden with shame and suppressed tears. “I had hoped to spare you from as much of the drama as possible.”

Robert reached out and put his arms gently around his nephew. “You’re not a burden, Miles. You never have been. You realize that, don’t you?” Miles seemed to flinch away from the words, like just hearing them hurt. “You’re a gifted young man. You have faults like any other human on the planet. No one blames you for reaching out.”

Phoenix watched, transfixed, as Miles slowly melted into the embrace. “I’m sorry,” he offered lamely. “I’m making things worse again.”

“My area of expertise is divorce court.” Robert’s voice was calm and still gentle, but with a sort of parental authority. “Oh, come now, it’s not that bad. My area of expertise is determining whether a couple needs a therapist, a trial separation, or if divorce is the best option.”

“I didn’t ask you here to help me end my relationship!” Miles protested. His voice was no longer verging on panic, but it was still so raw and tense even the words sounded like they needed a massage.

“I know, Miles.” Robert soothed. “The road to hell is often paved with good intentions. I’ve no doubt you’ve both seen your share of hell, and I truly believe you both have the best of intentions for each other.” He turned slightly. “My professional opinion is that there’s a severe lack of communication going on between you. Miles, may I speak to him on your behalf?” Miles replied with a distressed noise. “There, there,” he soothed.“Mr. Wright, Miles contacted me… perhaps two months ago. He said he was being considered for a position that would station him in Belgium for a year, and then possibly continue in various cities across Europe. He was excited about the prospect and the opportunities it could present, but he was afraid he didn’t have the...” here Robert stopped to consider his words. “social skills to to create a meaningful long-distance relationship. My partner lived in Australia for three years, so of course I was happy to assist him in any way possible. It was a week after that when the conversation seemed to change. Looking back, it must have been your trial.” Phoenix cringed. “He’s very upset about that, I might add. We spoke about you extensively, although I wasn’t aware that you were also the significant other he spoke of. He told me that under no circumstances should I believe the news was true, but that didn’t change the fact that your professionalism had reached a new low, and your naivete is going to get you killed someday.” Robert paused again to reflect. “It occurs that the fact that he was so open in expressing his feelings that sealed the impression you weren’t the significant other he had been referring to. There was none of the frailty I would have expected from a new relationship.”

“We’ve been seeing each other romantically for about three months. We’ve known each other since we were nine.” Phoenix offered shyly..

“Nine?! Miles, you didn’t tell me-!” Robert sputtered into a laugh, and despite his tension Miles managed the indignant glare of a cat that had been forced out of it’s favorite sleeping spot. “Wait, are you telling me he was the trial boy from class?!”

“I don’t know what my father told you, but I’m sure it was exaggerated.” Miles replied, his cheeks bright red as he glared in any direction that would keep him safe from eye contact. “I was just being logical. It was unfair.”

“He told me you hadn’t made many friends since Sarah passed, and he was genuinely upset that you wouldn’t let him take you both to Disneyland to celebrate. You know how he worshiped the ground you walked on, how could he help but adore a child who wanted to become your first disciple?” Robert replied knowingly. “Come here, Wright, I feel like I’m practically your uncle too.” He offered Phoenix a hearty hug. “You’re persistent, aren’t you? Good show!”

“Robert, please-” Miles had never had any use for praise, but it was obvious that this had blown past his first few levels of discomfort and was rapidly approaching Oldbag levels of stress. Some sadistic part of Phoenix was comforted by the fact he wasn’t Miles’ sole tormentor.

“It can’t be as bad as all that, Miles. If he’s been following you since you were nine, a few thousand miles probably won’t make much difference. Now, Mr. Wright, what would you say is the biggest issue in your relationship?”

“That’s easy, me.”

“Could you be a little more specific?”

“I’m a lazy, unemployed asshole who adopted a kid without asking my significant other. And I thought about punching his uncle for being better than me at everything like thirty seconds after I met him.” Phoenix rattled off. “Would you like more?”

Miles snorted derisively and threw an aggravated look at his uncle like he was planning a retort, but said nothing.

Robert nodded as if that was exactly what he had expected to hear. “And what do you bring to the relationship?”

Phoenix had to think about that. “Stress and mediocre sex?”

Edgeworth arched a wary eyebrow. “Mediocre?”

“Don’t get me wrong, you’re great! I’ve got no complaints there. It’s just, you know...”

“No, I don’t know.” Miles replied, apprehension giving away to a scowl. “Perhaps you’d care to enlighten me.

“Well, yes,” Robert thankfully chose that moment to intervene again, “I’m certain you can work the ins and outs of the whole thing later. Right now, we’re working on verbal communication. Now Miles, what would you say the biggest issue in your relationship is?”

It took a moment for Miles to remember what their conversation was supposed to be about. “I.. uhh, I guess right now it’s mostly a problem of myself and his daughter.”

“What?!” Phoenix choked. Miles flushed. “It’s not as if I’m claiming your daughter isn’t upholding her obligations to the relationship. She’s a child, she has no obligations, it’s just that her presence causes… issues.” He tried to explain, scowling as he tried to explain his feelings.

“No, I mean, what about me?” Phoenix asked. “Me, the one that ruined everything? The one that continues to ruin everything? The one that-” There weren’t words to describe what had transpired today. “-I just, I’m no good for you.”

“Well, I’m not really contributing anything to the relationship at the moment, myself.” Miles replied with eyes fixed on the ground..

“What would you even contribute?”

“Are you saying I bring nothing?”

“No!” Phoenix snapped, then bit his tongue when Miles looked away quietly. “I meant that I don’t feel that way, Miles.” he added, slightly irate that he even had to clarify. “You’ve done more than your share in the past. Right now there’s not much you can do.”

“You’re not letting me do anything!” Phoenix jumped slightly. He had meant it as absolving Miles from any guilt, not as an accusation, but he was overwhelmed by the passion in the response. It wasn’t even anger, he could almost taste the complex tangle of emotions in the words. “I understand that I’m not qualified to take care of children as I am, but you seem so intent on keeping us separated. We agreed this wasn’t something casual, so why are you walling me out of your life? Do you not trust me? I still don’t even know what she thinks I am! Am I your friend, your partner, an uncle? Does she even understand the idea of two men in a romantic relationship? I don’t know what children these days know!” He ran a hand through his hair, clenching a fistful of it in frustration. “I don’t know what I’m doing wrong, and you’re not telling me anything!”

Phoenix had felt the color drain from his face as Miles’ fears became more clear, and now he felt like his heart would actually break if his partner continued. And he’d deserve it, but this was about damage control. “Oh Miles,” he said quietly, gently, as he brushed some of Miles’ long bangs back into place. “I’ve tried to keep her out of your hair. I thought all of this was overwhelming enough without you having to deal with all my issues on top of it.” The tiny movement of Miles’ face, turning slightly to nuzzle into his palm, went straight to his heart like an electric shock, and before he realized it, he was wrapping his partner in another hug. “She loves you. She calls you Uncle Miles and she loves seeing you on TV. She doesn’t quite understand your job, but she says that you rely on your wits and showmanship like any good performer.” Miles replied with a quiet sigh, and for the first time in weeks he felt the hug actually soften into an act of intimacy between two lovers. Their issues certainly weren’t solved, but from a hopeful outlook rather than a sense of merely delaying the inevitable separation, he found it impossible to comprehend how he had survived the last month without the steadying assurance of his partner. Had he really forgotten what a comfort it was? “She knows I’m crazy about you. How could I hide that? She can even tell when I’m thinking about you already. She knows the tells.”

“In what sense?” Miles mumbled into his shoulder.

“In the ‘how did I I let things get this bad, how can I solve this without hurting everyone involved’ sense, I guess.” Phoenix replied. “And even then, ‘talk it out like adults’ was never an option I considered viable. I didn’t even think it was worth annoying you with my existence to tell you I would miss you. She was the one who told me to kiss you goodbye and tell you I’d be waiting if you decided to come back.”

“We mutually agreed to enter a relationship. I would have hoped the decision to end said relationship would be subject to the same sort of cooperative discussion.”

“Yeah,” Phoenix replied, his voice growing just a bit wistful as his grip tightened, “but I’m… In my experience, we don’t always contact each other before making life-changing decisions.” There was a long, anxious drag of air between Miles’ teeth that meant he knew exactly what was being referred to.

“That’s fair.” Miles agreed hesitantly. “I… apologize if I haven’t been clear in my intentions.”

“You haven’t done anything you need to apologize for.” Phoenix replied. “I’m sorry I’ve been projecting so much on you.”

Miles cleared his throat. “I need you to keep in mind that I’m not good with other people, and there’s little hope of me picking up your insecurities interfering with the relationship while I’m busy fixating on my own faults.”

“I’m sorry,” Phoenix replied with a small chuckle, “I’ll try to remember you’re not perfect.”

“I don’t see how that would be difficult to remember.”

“Yeah, well, you’re a little more handsome than I’m used to dealing with, and sometimes I wish you’d dial back the wit for a bit to make it easier to lose an argument against you without feeling like I should take a vow of silence to make sure I never sully the world with my idiocy again, but I’ll admit that ‘unfathomably still interested in boyfriend who continues to ruin everything he touches’ wasn’t a fault I considered.”

“Please don’t hesitate to let me know what it is I’m doing that might hurt your confidence.”

“I’ll bet you’d like to know. You could use a technique that would grant you some sweet, sweet silence in this relationship, couldn’t you.” Phoenix laughed.

“You know me so well.”

Phoenix had entirely forgotten the existence of the elder Edgeworth until he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder. “And this is the point where I am happy to tell you that you boys don’t need the services of a divorce lawyer,” he said gently, “although in my professional opinion, you would benefit greatly from couple’s therapy.” He squeezed Phoenix’s shoulder encouragingly. “Now, Miles, I assume you could still go for that drink. Would you like me to drive? I think I remember enough to keep on the proper side of the road.” Miles replied with a soft noise that was non-committal. “Or would you prefer that Mr. Wright drove?” “I don’t drive.” Phoenix interjected quickly.

“In Los Angeles?” Robert asked, “You certainly are the odd one.”

“You have no idea.” Miles mumbled, his face still nestled in Phoenix’s shoulder. With no further words and the least possible movement he produced the keys and offered them in the general direction he had heard last Robert’s voice.

Phoenix’s heart was somehow simultaneously melting and overflowing. This was his boyfriend. His gorgeous, overextended, pushy, conflicted and emotionally stunted, absolutely perfect boyfriend. Miles loved him. They were mutually in love. And for the first time since he’d heard that fateful verdict was read, that love didn’t feel like an anchor around their necks threatening to drag them both to their deaths. This was real and sustainable. No, much more than that, this was the culmination of events set in motion when the most amazing child he’d ever met had seen him as human when even he was convinced he was trash. Miles had been there to help him in the same way that he had managed to help Miles years later. They didn’t need to be on equal footing to be there for each other, they only needed to want to be together. It was impossible for him to comprehend two people wanting to be together more, and yet he’d almost let this go without so much as a word. Without a kiss goodbye.

The realization of what he’d just narrowly escaped struck him suddenly and violently, like feeling a hand on your shoulder stopping you and not realizing what was happening until you felt the wind from a bus passing an arm’s length from your face. He’d almost lost… He’d almost actively given this away…

He didn’t deserve this. He’d lost the right to this sort of happiness when he’d let his faith in others trump his common sense. He didn’t deserve Trucy, with her infectious giggles and a gigantic heart big enough to hold him even with all his issues and failings. He didn’t deserve Miles telling him it was okay when it wasn’t, he definitely didn’t deserve that strong, broad shoulder to bury his face into, and no force on earth could convince Phoenix that he was worthy of disturbing Miles Edgeworth’s precious sleep. And yet, Miles was in his arms and holding onto him like something precious, something necessary to his survival.

The question wasn’t whether or not his presence was still beneficial to Miles. The evidence stated that Miles still wanted to be with him, and no matter how improbable that was, he had to accept that it was the truth. “Miles...” He hadn’t realized how close he was to crying until he heard his voice trembling.

Miles squeezed tighter, burying his head further into Phoenix’s collar. “Please don’t do this right now.”

“Oh, I have to do this right now, Miles,” there was no recovering from this, his voice was rapidly breaking down into ugly sobs. Miles must have said something in reply, he could feel reverberations that felt like the familiar baritone voice, but he was beyond processing words. All he could think was this feeling, this warmth, this man he’d almost lost so many times… all of that was still here. They were still here, together. Phoenix was sure he was still talking too, when words could make it out between wet sobs, but those sounds didn’t mean anything to him either. This was beyond words. It was like the last few weeks of fear and pain, mourning what he’d lost and failing to understand what he still had, all the thoughts he couldn’t stop thinking, the stress of hiding the darkest parts of him from his loved ones from, every emotion he’d been frantically forcing back, all of it was being projectile vomited into his boyfriend’s cravat.

It hurt so much.

But damn, did it feel so good.

Miles was tugging on him listlessly, and even though he was aware on some level that Miles must be trying to get him in the car where his bellowing tears would be slightly less public, he fought the suggestion like an irate child refusing to give up his toy. He needed this, he needed every single centimeter of contact with Miles’ body, and nobody, not even Miles himself, was going to deny him this moment of healing. Miles finally seemed to accept that his quest was pointless and settled with wrapping Phoenix in a hug again, and in that moment Phoenix really felt like he might be in danger of dying simply from an overabundance of love.

What a way to go.

Of course this didn’t mean everything was solved, there was still his badge and his daughter, and they needed to discuss this job Miles had mentioned. He still had to convince Robert that he wasn’t the possessive madman he had probably come across as. But if he hadn’t properly gauged how much of the patented Wright bullshit Miles was willing to put up with, Miles had substantially underestimated just how long Phoenix could sustain himself on the barest of scraps as long as he knew he was still wanted. “God, I love you, Miles.”

“And I’ve long since given up on trying to pretend I don’t return those feelings.” Miles replied, his voice filled with the irate affection that seemed to sum up their relationship. “Now, do you think I could get you into the car?”

“Mmmm, in the back seat.” Phoenix knew it was a little mean to egg Miles after he’d been through so much, but right now he was ecstatic and exhausted and just a hint of that subtle European aftershave he knew so well always kicked some animal part of his brain into high gear but right now he was drowning in that feeling. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“Wright, please.”

“I think I’m the one who should be begging,” Phoenix breathed, “I’m the one who’s been a bad boy.”

He was hardly surprised when the hand that forced him bodily into the back seat was more angry than playful. “You are an adult-” Miles was climbing in after him with the air of someone planning to start a fist fight, but Phoenix knew the prosecutor’s limits better than the man probably knew himself. As soon as he was in range, Phoenix shot forward and wrapped his arms around Miles’ neck. He moved quickly as the mouth opened to protest-

And caught them gently, softly, in a total reverse of what most men were probably expecting. He was drunk on Miles, and more now than ever before, but this wasn’t goodbye. Even if Miles ended up taking that job in Europe, this was far from the end. They had plenty time to explore their feelings and desires. Right now, the only reason he had to coax Miles on a horizontal surface was to get the gorgeous man some much-needed rest. Their relationship wasn’t going anywhere, it could wait. “Thank you,” he gave a lopsided smile as he caught Miles attempting to adjust to this latest shift, “for everything. I love you.”

“I...” Miles shifted his gaze. “I know I’m not the best at expressing it,” he let one finger run down the side of Phoenix’s cheek, “but I I love you, as well.”

Phoenix leaned into the point of contact. “I owe you a shave,” he admitted. “I was a little out of sorts when I left.”

“I don’t mind.” Miles replied as he leaned in for another kiss. This one was even lighter and softer than the last, and Phoenix felt himself enthralled by every tiny shift of Miles’ thin lips. It was like a first kiss. No, it was better than a first kiss, there was nothing of the awkwardness or fear, wondering if you’d made a mistake, no fear of rejection. Just intimacy. Which kiss it was didn’t matter, he had a feeling he could keep kissing Miles Edgeworth for decades and still get dizzy from every little kiss.

He couldn’t wait to find out.

The door to the front seat opens. “I have your address in my phone, Miles,” Richard announced as he climbed into the front seat and adjusted the wheel. “I was just going to use it for directions. Anything I should be looking out for?”

“It’s pretty straightforward.” Miles replied without taking his eyes off of Phoenix. “There’s enough money in the ash tray to pay for parking.”

“Sounds good.” He turned the key and seemed more than happy with the way the car purred to life in response. “Are you boys okay back there?”

“Everything’s okay back here.” Phoenix replied as he felt Miles settle into his shoulder with an air of familiarity he’d assumed were gone forever. “Everything’s just fine.”

And, as ignorant as the Phoenix Wright of this morning would have called him for listening to ridiculous hope, he knew it was true.

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