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"What do you want to be when you grow up?" the introduction paper on the first day of school asked.
One little boy wrote his answer down immediately. He already knew what he was going to be, what he wanted to be, and so he quickly wrote out "defense attorney" and moved on to the next question.
Another little boy frowned, thinking on the question. He didn't really know yet. He had thought about astronaut or police officer or pilot or a bunch of cool ideas, but none of them had lasted very long. What did he want to be anyway? After a lot of thinking, he eventually wrote down "happy" and moved along.
"I'm going to be a defense attorney," Miles Edgeworth declared, and Phoenix, wide-eyed and in awe of the boy, was certain he was going to be one, because how could he not when he said it so confidently.
"I don't know what I'm gonna be yet," Phoenix Wright admitted, "Maybe an artist? I don't know." Miles didn't know what it was like, not to know, but in a way it was kind of cool. Phoenix had potential to do anything he wanted, and with how much energy he put into everything, Miles felt he'd succeed at whatever he decided to do.
"Where do you see yourself in ten years?"
Miles, ten years old and silently grieving, saw the future laid out for him by Manfred von Karma. Passing the bar and going on to be a prosecutor, because he didn't want to be a defense attorney when they defended people who were guilty and he didn't deserve to continue the legacy of the man he killed anyway.
Phoenix didn't know. He never did. But, as he sent letter after letter, he hoped he'd somehow be friends with Miles again. That's all he wanted right now.
"Do you ever think about getting married?"
Miles scoffed at the question, though secretly he knew it just simply wasn't in the cards for him. His life was his work, there was no time for friends or dating anyway. And, if something in his chest clenched when he distantly realized he was destined to be alone...well, that was left in the privacy of his own thoughts.
Phoenix had many plans, admittedly. Finishing art school and proposing to Dollie, having a long engagement as they got their lives together and marrying in the fall in the park they both loved to walk through. Maybe someday they'd have kids, and Dollie had sworn that they would be the best parents possible if they did, with a commanding seriousness in her voice that Phoenix knew meant she would honor it. And they would grow old together and be so happy...
Then, there was the snap of a broken umbrella, a dead man and a murder trial and a sweet smile that had turned as cruel as her words were poison, as poisonous as the cold medicine Doug had taken from him, and all of Phoenix's plans shattered like the glass that cut up his throat on the way down.
"Where do you see yourself in five years?"
Did the question even matter? Miles would continue as he always had, and no one would even care.
Phoenix, with Larry's help, burned a pink sweater, and he talked with his advisor and started taking law classes. He kept in contact with Ms. Fey, who eventually told him to call her Mia because "we're friends, aren't we?" And he kept that newspaper, looked at that picture of cold, vicious, cruel, tired, lonely Miles Edgeworth in his desk drawer at his apartment he now lived in alone, and it powered his determination through the all-nighters, through the endless books and lectures and studying, through an art and pre-law double major he couldn't regret and law school and an internship with Mia and the bar exam, because he saw himself as the defense attorney Miles had always wanted to be in five years and now it was time to put in the work to become just that.
"What are your plans for the future?"
What future? Miles wanted to ask, as he was found innocent, as he went back to work, as he watched a woman he had trusted admit to the court that SL-9 was a victory built on false evidence and he was the one who presented it. As he dropped a note on his desk and abandoned his office, his job, his life. It had been all he had, and now it was just a broken pile of useless pieces.
And Phoenix looked at the letter Miles Edgeworth had left behind and he couldn't even think about the future in that moment, not when he thought they could finally fix things and move forward but instead he had said the wrong thing and Miles had given up.
"What are goals you have for yourself?"
Get through another day. Another week. Another month. Make plans. Find things that made him happy. Learn to accept the things that were in the past and move forward. Learn to look forward past the fog.
Get through another trial. Keep Maya and Pearls safe. Keep it together. Don't think about Edgeworth. Don't think about Edgeworth. Don't think about Edgeworth.
Clean up the broken glass. Clean and bandage the cuts on his hand.
Don't think about Edgeworth.
"What plans do you have?"
Miles Edgeworth didn't know yet. All he knew was that, somehow, he wanted to fix the rift he had left between himself and Wright. To apologize.
Phoenix had two plans. Save Maya. Punch Edgeworth in the face. In that order. Everything else could wait.
"Do you have any travel plans?"
A phone call from Larry left Miles scrambling for a way back to America, to Los Angeles, and his thoughts were desparately screaming that no, no, Phoenix Wright had to survive, and then Miles was going to kill that man himself for the foolish, reckless, idiotic-
Phoenix was honestly surprised he had survived long enough to even think about traveling. But, in his fever dazed mind, he wondered what it would be like to go to Europe and spend time with Edgeworth. He had missed him a lot, so much so that he wasn't sure the Edgeworth in front of him wasn't a hallucination. But he felt real enough, as he gripped Phoenix's hand and called him an idiot in a voice that seemed so relieved anyway.
"What do you want to do with your life?"
Miles wanted to be better. For himself, for all the peoole he had doomed and all the people who could still be saved. For Wright, for Phoenix, who looked at him with bright, hopeful eyes and believed in him when Miles couldn't believe in himself. For the last few years, being better meant leaving, starting over, redefining what justice was, for himself and for the system he had left behind. But, when he received a call from Ms. Fey and learned about the Gramarye case, being better meant coming home.
Phoenix didn't know anymore. It felt like he had lost everything. He didn't know how he managed to keep going. Spite, maybe. Anger. Or...or maybe it was Maya texting him, telling him she'd be there whenever he needed her, whenever he was ready to talk. Or maybe it was Trucy, young and bright and a light in the darkness.
Or maybe it was Miles, appearing at the door of his apartment, and for once the one to hold out his arms and be there for Phoenix when he needed him.
"What are your plans to help you succeed?"
They dove into research, Miles in Europe and Phoenix in the States. Phoenix spent his nights playing poker and Kristoph Gavin's games. Miles investigated cases in Europe and the potential for a jurist system to be implemented in the US again. Sometimes Miles returned home, and Trucy would perform magic tricks for him and he'd drive her to school and Phoenix would smile at just how domestic it was and try not to think about wanting more. Sometimes Phoenix and Trucy would fly to Europe and Phoenix would shave and dress closer to how he used to, and his eyes would light up as he helped Miles solve cases and Miles's heart would pang with longing.
Most of their time was spent separate, in that time, but in a way they were more united than they had been in a long time.
"Do you ever think about getting married?"
Miles thought about Phoenix, about holding his hand or kissing him or...or just simply staying. Being with him. And he smiled even as he went red at the thought.
Phoenix had loved Miles for years. He never expected anything to come out of it, and that was fine. That was enough. And he didn't make plans this time.
"Where do you intend to be in one year?"
Home, Miles decided, as Trucy called him and practically screamed into the phone that they had won, that her daddy's name had been cleared and Kristoph couldn't hurt them anymore. And he arranged to be on the next flight he could manage.
The courtroom, hopefully. And Phoenix hugged his daughter and he finally, finally cried, because it was over. It was finally over.
"What do you see yourself in the future?"
In the end, neither of them knew. All the planning in the world hadn't predicted the trajectory their lives had taken. There was absolutely no telling where their lives would lead from the present.
But, hand in hand, they would see it through together.