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Phoenix found it difficult to be happy anymore. He refused to admit it, but the downward spiral began sometime around Edgeworth’s vanishment. Whether or not the event was a catalyst, he was unsure, but life certainly felt as if it were souring and the disappearance was a hard blow.
Now, Phoenix stood in the gilded halls of the Watergate Hotel, following Maya on her fangirling spree. He shared none of her enthusiasm. Dully, his heart pounded on and exhaustion tore at his eyes. A long-dormant instinct in the recesses of his mind wished so desperately to take part in the excitement of the event, to finally relax and have fun with the people closest to him. That part, of course, was only a ghost of a thought. Every time such ideas resurfaced, they were quick to die through no fault of anyone. They simply had a tragically short lifespan.
Maya seemed to have noticed his dour expression. She paused for an infinitesimal moment, then patted him on the shoulder and continued her bubbly spiel. Phoenix appreciated the gesture and appreciated even more that she hadn’t sat him down to have some sort of intervention. He hated the unnecessary attention, despised it, in fact. It wasn’t a problem that he had, surely just one of those bad moods that plague people and then lift off after overstaying its welcome. Her concerns were instead expressed in subtle ways. Maya continued pointing at the gorgeous decorations and firing off facts about Steel Samurai lore. A sudden rush of affection filled Phoenix’s chest. She really understood him. She was his only friend, his closest one in the world.
Pearls squealed in delight when she saw Phoenix smile airily at Maya’s back. The kid was pretty cute, he’d give her that, but she didn’t quite understand the relationship between himself and Maya. It wasn’t based on romance, but based on something more complex than Pearls was old enough to understand. Phoenix wasn’t even sure he understood himself, but he knew that he loved her.
The day went by in a series of smudges. The only conscious thoughts he had were of how dry and sarcastic he was. Of course, he had always been a little sarcastic, but he didn’t realize how pessimistic he sounded until he imagined Will Power’s hurt look at one of his imagined comments. His thoughts had a mean-spirited edge to them although he didn’t really mean them. It was probably better that he didn’t talk too much.
*beep beep beep*
The transceiver that had been shoved into his hands brought him back to reality. How strange. He looked around having been awakened from his trance to find Maya. He sighed, remembering that she left to pick up a call.
“Hello? Wright here.”
“I assume this is Phoenix Wright, the attorney?” The voice was deep, airy, and smooth as butter.
“Yeah. And you are...?”
“You needn’t know who I am. You have other things to be concerning yourself with… Such as…”
“Help! Niiiiick!” Assuredly, it was Maya’s voice. High, terrified.
“Do I have your attention now, Mr. Lawyer?” the man said.
His sight flickered and the ground swayed. He felt strangely detached from his body, floating, except for his heart, which was thrashing and convulsing. Phoenix’s world shut down.
***
The last day had been sheer, crystallized panic, but by now Phoenix felt numb. As if waking up in a cold sweat and with aching muscles from a freakish nightmare made only more horrific by the fact that it was real. It was all real. And now what was real was Edgeworth. In front of him. Now.
“‘I would’ve won.’ Is that what you wanted to say?” the man snidely said to finish Franziska’s sentence.
Phoenix spluttered a shocked reply. “E-Edgeworth!” His vision blurred out everyone in the room. Franziska’s look of outrage, Gumshoe’s puppy-dog eyes, Pearl’s exclamations. Everyone except for Edgeworth. An incandescent wave of thoughts swept through his mind, a host of half-formed emotions he needed to convey. He couldn’t hear what Edgeworth was saying, but he didn’t miss the split-second where he had a gentle look on his face. A mix of compassion, amusement, and something Phoenix couldn’t quite identify. Perhaps an apology that would never be spoken? Phoenix almost burst into tears at that look. This had been the hardest period of his life, and the reappearance certainly wasn’t helping with him being on edge.
Phoenix wanted to grab the man and shake him hard. He wanted to force an explanation out of him and then to tell him about his mess of a life. But he didn’t. He wasn’t sure if his fears were assuaged or amplified with the presence of his long-lost friend.
***
One day. It was up. The clock had stopped ticking. White-hot realization melted through his body. It burned so badly. It was surely the end of the world. He was barely conscious as he left the courtroom. Everyone else left as if it were normal, as if it was just another case. They had no idea. Phoenix was the only one who knew what was really on the line. Maya. Maya. Violent images filed through his mind of the gory and tragic deaths of kidnapping victims. A buzz filled his ears as he imagined Maya with dull eyes. Eyes that were inherently filled with radiance.
Phoenix did remember one thing from the trial, at least. A look from Edgeworth. The same soft one from the previous day’s investigation. “Wright. I finally found the answer I was struggling for on my long journey this past year. At the close of this case, you too, will know the answer.”
He prayed that answer would come soon.
During the investigation, Phoenix had somehow miraculously caught Edgeworth alone. After the clinic visit, Pearls had gone on to the office and Phoenix found himself meandering along with the prodigal son. This was the moment he craved for so long, but now that it was here, he wished that it wasn’t happening.
Edgeworth was the first to speak. “I noticed at the trial today you were behaving quite strangely. Is... something the matter?”
Phoenix wasn’t sure at first what to tell him, so he grasped at the first thing that came to mind. “Maya’s been kidnapped.” His voice broke.
Edgeworth paled. “Kidnapped? What are the demands!?”
“An acquittal.” He could barely speak. It came out as a threadbare whisper. He didn’t look at Edgeworth, but he felt concern radiating off of him.
“I see. I had no idea. I will prepare a rescue team immediately and resolve this by tomorrow.” His voice was solemn, but clear. He tried to look into Phoenix’s face with that soft look.
For some reason, that look annoyed him immensely. “Stop trying to console me, Edgeworth! I don't need your pity!” The words came out before he could stop them. Edgeworth shrunk back. “She’s gone! We don't even have one clue to go on. She could be dead now and it would be my fault because I’m too incompetent to do something so basic!” His face felt hot and a wave of tears emerged. “She deserved so much better! D-damn it…” His voice weakened. Gasps and strangled sobs prevented him from talking.
Phoenix wanted to shout, but the look on Edgeworth’s face… It shocked him. The prosecutor had tight lips and concerned eyebrows. His eyes looked hurt and scared. “I’m sorry,” Phoenix whimpered. “I can’t do this! I’m not smart enough to make the perfect ethical decision! I just want it to turn out okay...”
As Phoenix tried to breathe, Edgeworth took his shoulder. At first he didn’t say anything; he just stood there. “I once felt hopeless.” A pause. “But I’ve learned that there is always a net to catch us before we drop into an endless abyss. We’ll find Maya.” Another pause. “A year ago I would have hesitated to tell you this, but I know that you are more intelligent than you think. Trust yourself, as I trust you, to make the right decision.”
At the words, Phoenix finally cooled down. He hadn’t realized how much he was leaning into Edgeworth. He straightened and pulled at his blue sleeves. “Thank you,” he whispered.
***
As the investigation dragged on, Phoenix found himself at an impasse. A catch-22. The truth was becoming abundantly clear, but it contradicted with what was required to save Maya. It was so painfully obvious that Engarde had hired an assassin, but the lawyer’s dearest friend was on death row. Any optimism he had plummeted. He simply couldn’t choose because neither option was desirable. There was nothing left. No new answer, no third option, no progress on the search for Maya. He hated himself more than anything or anyone on earth. Except for perhaps Engarde and de Killer. There was nothing left.
Phoenix stumbled back to his small apartment that evening, shell-shocked. Everything in his mind crumbled except for thoughts of Maya. Until there was nothing left. He fumbled with the key in the darkness and flung the front door open. Everything was just as he left it. His apartment had no idea that the whole world changed, that the rug was swept from under him. He slumped to the bathroom and haphazardly splashed water on his face. A meek grumble emitted from his stomach, but he didn’t allow himself to eat. There was nothing left. His mind was exhausted to the point of dysfunction. He couldn’t bear to turn thoughts over and over again.
One thought, however, resurfaced. On his walk to the cramped kitchen. The thought had always been there, but now was the first time he acknowledged it. There was a third option. To him, it became the only option. The option that would whisk away everyone else’s problems like a gust of wind. He cast his jacket on the floor somewhere and rummaged around in a cabinet. A flat razor. He had gotten it for the intent of cleaning, but it hadn’t received much use. It was new. Deathly sharp. The only option.
Sitting on the floor against the wall, Phoenix drew in deep breaths and closed his eyes. He thought about leaving a note, but any explanation he had to offer was already obvious to the people that mattered. He rolled up his sleeve, looking at the soft, pale flesh of his forearm. His stomach lurched at the thought, but this was probably the way he deserved to go. As long as it was more painful than Maya’s death, it was justified.
He nestled the razor deep and pulled. It was fiery and icy at the same time. The sheer amount of blood was appalling. He knew there would be a lot, but it was still unexpected. It was shockingly crimson on his shirt and dripped in dark pools on his slacks. He closed his eyes and positioned the razor again.
An abrupt knock startled him. He jerked his head toward the door, but didn’t respond. He felt himself grow pale and a static feeling flooded his body.
The door opened, evidently unlocked. “Phoenix?” Grey hair and a red suit appeared. Edgeworth looked around the apartment until he spotted Phoenix on the ground. His eyes widened and he ran over. “My… my God…” Acting quickly, he found a towel and wrapped it tightly around Phoenix’s wrist.
“Miles… What have I done?” Phoenix gasped. The uncomfortable question hung in the air. It didn’t need to be answered.
Miles took the razor and set it far away. “I was worried… You didn’t seem… I needed to check.” They were barely sentences, but Phoenix understood what the words meant. “Can you stand?” Phoenix nodded and Miles helped him stand up. “I’ll take you to the hospital.”
Phoenix felt his stomach drop. “No, please!” he said through a sob, “They’ll know!”
Miles pulled him into a tight hug and murmured, “There’s no shame in getting help. None at all.” Finally agreeing, Phoenix let his friend take him to his car. Miles only let go of the towel to get in the driver’s side, then continued his grip on Phoenix’s wrist across the center console. They drove in a velvety black silence for quite some time.
Eventually, Phoenix couldn’t stand the mounting tension any longer. “I bet you’re wondering why,” he began. Before Miles could reply, he continued. “I thought that... that if I were out of the picture, then de Killer wouldn’t have a need for Maya anymore and let her go. Then I could leave the fate of the case in more competent hands.”
At a red light, Miles gazed over. Phoenix couldn’t meet his eyes. “You are worth so much. I meant what I said earlier. You are incredibly intelligent and I trust you with, well, anything. I want you to know how much you mean to me.” His voice was drenched with emotion. “All those things I never had the courage to say. I still don’t know how to say them, but I dearly hope you know what I mean.”
“I suppose- Yes, I do. I feel the same way for you.”
Miles smiled and released a strange cross between a sigh of relief and a laugh. “I’m sorry for vanishing without telling you. I wish I could have been there for you, but I’m here now and I want to help you all I can. If you need anything…”
Phoenix put a hand on Miles’. His heart was in pain, but it was elated at the same time. They arrived at the hospital and sat for a moment in the all-encompassing silence. Phoenix desperately wanted that point in time to last forever. Alone together, in a bubble separate from the whole universe. He whispered, “I love you,” but it was lost in the sound of the car doors slamming. They entered the ER together, Miles still holding his wrist. The light washed over them.
Thankfully, the nurses asked very few questions and did a wonderful job cleaning and stitching the wound. When asked what happened, Miles noticed Phoenix’s hesitation and jumped in with, “He got cut. Just an accident in the kitchen.”
Some time later, they got back in Mile’s car. “Are you doing alright?” he asked.
Phoenix thought before answering, “Better.” They rode in silence once again. “Miles?”
“Yes?”
“I don’t want to be alone.”
“Of course.”
In minutes, they arrived at Miles’ place. It was a mild surprise to Phoenix, but he was thankful. He surely didn’t want to see his own apartment again for a while. It was posh. It felt as if he were in a fancy hotel. He had to admit, Edgeworth had style.
“It’s safe to assume you’ll fit in my clothing, I suppose,” Miles said.
Phoenix looked at his companion. Tall with a strong build. Handsome. “Yeah,” he agreed with a laugh. Everything was neatly hung in a closet or perfectly folded in a drawer. Surprised that Miles was even in possession of such clothing, he selected the lone T-shirt and solidary sweatpants. Miles left to change into a set of silk pajamas in the bathroom.
Phoenix slipped the new shirt over his head, careful not to disturb the bandages. At first he threw his old clothes in the corner, then folded them, not wanting to be a slob in Miles’ apartment. The crimson stains were incredibly vibrant. He wondered if there was a way to launder them or if he’d just have to get new clothes completely.
Upon reentering the room, Miles asked, “You aren’t hungry, are you?”
They ate sandwiches by the amber light in the kitchen while darkness pressed upon them from everywhere else. They chatted about pleasant things, things that Phoenix had completely forgotten the existence of like how the local symphony was playing Bartok’s Concerto for Orchestra and how Miles wanted to see it and that he would like it if Phoenix came.
When they had finished, there was a silence burdened with the question neither of them wanted to ask first. Phoenix almost giggled aloud, but finally said, “I can take the couch,” before he burst out in laughter. The situation seemed so hilarious. So cheesy, but not unwelcome. He had forgotten that such things existed.
Miles jolted upright, pink tinging his ears. “N-no. You sleep in the bed. I’ll take the couch.”
Phoenix grinned. “Okay, but you don’t have to take the couch, ya know.”
Red now colored Miles’ cheeks. “Very well. If you insist, I suppose,” he mused, trying to play it off.
Nestled under the sheets, Phoenix felt as if his heart were about collapse on itself. An addicting elation flooded his lungs, but bitterness poisoned it. One drop of sunlight amidst an ocean of suffocating blackness. It was a feeling so painfully intense. Miles wrapped an arm around him and pulled him close to his chest.
“Maybe you don’t want to hear this now,” Miles began in dulcet tones, “but I have some great recommendations for therapists. Tried and true from personal experience. There is light at the end of the tunnel, Phoenix.”
He placed a hand on Miles’ back. “Thank you,” he whispered. He felt warmth in his chest.
Miles waited until he thought Phoenix was asleep, then murmured “I love you” into the attentively listening darkness.