Chapter Text
December 22, 1:32pm
Prosecutor’s Office — Corridor
Athena fidgeted impatiently, checking her watch as she waited outside Simon Blackquill’s office. Her trial had finished two days prior, and they'd agreed to meet for lunch, and finally have a normal conversation for the first time in seven years, because courtroom banter did not count. The prosecutor’s lunch break was supposed to start at half past, and hey, just because she was usually the late one, that didn't mean she was never allowed to complain about other people being late too. At least, that was how she saw it.
Objectively, waiting in the corridor wasn't too bad. There was a big leafy green plant, and a plush leather ottoman, and a long window, showing off a panoramic view of the city below. But the view had become old about five minutes ago, and she was slightly too tall for the seat to be comfortable.
She shifted her weight from foot to foot, a dull ache settling into her calves from the jog over. She sighed, stretching her arms above her head, pushing herself up onto her toes. Hopefully he won't be too long…
She stiffened mid-stretch as she heard a latch click in one of the doors further down the corridor. After a moment, Prosecutor Edgeworth (should she stay in the habit of calling him that? Was it too informal? Had that been a temporary thing?) emerged, tea in hand, blinking in surprise at her. “Miss Cykes. I suppose there's a reason why you’re doing yoga in my corridor?”
Athena froze, quickly dropping the stretch, smiling sheepishly. “Uh, yeah! Yeah, I was just waiting for Simon. We’re getting lunch.”
Edgeworth nodded, the beginnings of a smile evident in his voice. “Hm. That's good. I suppose you’ve both had a rough few days.”
“Yeah. That. And we have seven years to catch up on.”
The chief prosecutor nodded once more, turning to the window. “Of course.” He then fell silent, raising his tea to his lips.
Athena stood there for a few moments, before continuing to stretch, carefully working knots out of her shoulders. The silence between them began to grow awkward — the prosecutor would glance at her, briefly meet her eye, and then look away again, focusing intently on his tea instead, or the view outside. Athena swallowed, unable to stand the silence. “So…watcha thinking about?”
Edgeworth made a face as he drank his tea, almost choking on it for a moment, looking a little shocked and taken aback. “You do realise that’s a rather bold thing to ask of the Chief Prosecutor?”
Athena shrugged, grinning. “Yeah, but you’re friends with Mr. Wright, which I reckon gives me some extra leeway.” Plus, waiting here’s getting pretty boring.
“I accused you of murder three days ago.”
“Eh, so did Apollo. We’re good too, right?”
Edgeworth blinked. “Yes. I suppose we are.”
Then he returned to his tea, staring out the window, brow creasing again, returning to its default state. Athena couldn’t tell whether he was glaring in a deep in thought way or an irritated way, but figured either way she should probably leave him alone. She tried not to fidget, glancing at her phone to check the time.
1:40. Come on, Simon.
Edgeworth continued to silently look out the window, his posture stiff. She began to run her fingers through her hair, as though that would alleviate the awkwardness. But the silence was getting to her. Surely they couldn’t just stand there. But it would be weird for her to just walk off. She swallowed. “Were you on your way somewhere? I mean— you left your office, and I don’t want to get in the way—”
“No, no. I sometimes come here to look at the view, when I need to…clear my head.”
Athena blinked. There was discord in Edgeworth’s tone. Tension…and also sadness? “Right. Sorry, I— I’ll be gone in a minute.”
Edgeworth nodded, not looking in her direction. Athena sighed. Uncomfortable silence it is then, I guess.
She checked her watch again. Paced a little — a few steps toward the plant, a few steps away from the plant—
“If you must know what I was thinking about,” Edgeworth said suddenly, carefully, glancing at Athena, his brow furrowed as he tried to gauge her reaction, “I don’t suppose Wright ever mentioned a certain case, called DL-6?”
Athena stared at him, surprised. She hadn't actually expected Edgeworth to be even remotely open with her. Honestly, it was kind of unnerving. “I— I don't think so? Should he have?”
The prosecutor said nothing as he turned back to the window, the creases between his brows deepening slightly. “No, no, he shouldn't have. It’s…not something that either of us talk about lightly, but all things considered, I believe it is something I can share with you.” He paused, pushing his glasses further up his nose. “You and I are quite similar, really.”
Athena’s eyebrows shot up, and it took all of her self control not to blurt out, What the fuck gave you that idea?! Surely she and the chief prosecutor couldn’t be more diff—
“What the fuck gave you that idea?!”
Athena froze, horrified. Fucking...Widget!
Oh shit, now Edgeworth was positively glowering at her. “I’m sorry?”
Athena felt relief wash through her for a brief moment — there wasn’t nearly as much anger in his voice and in his heart compared to his expression. But his expression was terrifying. “Sorry! Sorry, that was Widget, he sometimes, uh, says what I’m thinking. So. Er.” She leaned against the wall as casually as possible, sweating. “What makes you say that? You think we’re similar?”
Edgeworth blinked. “Perhaps ‘similar’ was not quite the right way to put it, however much we might have in common.” He turned away, slightly, pushing his glasses up his nose, his mouth becoming set in a hard line, falling silent. Athena swallowed, about to ask him what he meant, but was interrupted before she could form the words.
“I essentially saw my father die in front of me and suppressed the notion that I may have killed him myself for fifteen years, dismissing it as a nightmare,”
Athena’s mouth went dry. “Oh. Oh.”
Edgeworth glanced at her, smirking slightly now. “I eventually came to believe it when I was framed for another murder by the perpetrator of the original crime, a man whom I trusted, though he hoped I would take the blame for both incidents. Phoenix Wright defended me and cleared me of all charges.”
There was a long pause as Athena processed this. “Oh, shit. Huh. That sure is exactly the same.”
Edgeworth almost laughed — she could hear it in his tone. “Yes. And, what I guess I’m trying to say is…” he glanced at her, looking a little unsure, pushing his glasses up his nose. “If you ever want to talk about it, there's a good chance I’d understand aspects what you’ve gone through more…thoroughly than your colleagues. If you ever feel like it.”
Athena blinked slowly, still trying to get her head around the fact that a) there were so many similarities between UR-1 and this other case, DL-6, b) Mr. Wright never thought to mention this, and c) this was Prosecutor Edgeworth, otherwise intimidating and impenetrable, opening up to her about his childhood trauma. “That…that sounds nice.” And terrifying. “Thank you.”
Edgeworth made a sort of grimace, not quite meeting her eye. “Yes, well. You probably have a better handle on everything than I did, given your background in psychology, and—”
“No,” she said quietly, cutting him off. He glanced over at her in surprise. “No, I don't think I do. But I’ll be okay.” Eventually.
The silence that settled briefly between them wasn't quite so awkward now. Athena swallowed. “So…Mr. Wright defended you too?”
Edgeworth nodded. “Yes. Up until that point he was a mere acquaintance. And a…distant memory.”
Athena blinked, feeling that there was an awful lot to unpack there. She wasn't in quite the right headspace to go through that now. She could feel the cogs in her mind slowly turning as she took all of this in. “And even though…even though everything that happened to you had so much in common with UR-1…you still prosecuted my case?”
Edgeworth swallowed, his voice becoming tight. “I didn't know it would turn out to be quite so similarly while we were in the middle of it, I assure you. Nor did I come to my conclusion easily. I had to base my opinion purely on the evidence in front of me, rather than on your character. And I trusted that if I was wrong, Wright would prove it. Like he always did.”
Athena nodded, thinking, finding herself gazing out the window too. “Yeah. So…you and the boss go way back, don't you?”
Edgeworth inclined his head slightly. “Yes. Phoenix Wright is a very dear friend to me.”
Athena began to smile because that was so wholesome, but something made her pause. Was there...more discord there?
Her thoughts began to narrow, focusing in on the sounds of the prosecutor’s heart, almost automatically. She began to lift one hand to touch Widget, but stopped herself quickly. She could hardly pull Widget out and analyse the chief prosecutor’s words using the mood matrix, but she didn’t need to to know something was off. Saying those words, Edgeworth’s heart was full of happiness — full of affection, and pride. But there was something else as well. Is that...sadness?
“...Yeah. You’ve been through a lot together, huh?”
“Indeed.”
Athena frowned. The discord’s gone...but why would he be sad about having Mr. Wright as a friend? “You...you were both something to see in court. Together, I mean. It was kind of amazing to watch, actually.”
Edgeworth gave her a kind of half smile, half smirk. “Well, we have known each other for a while. I suppose we do have a kind of coalescence in court.”
Athena bit her lip. C’mon, give me something, where did that discord go... “I dunno, Mr. Edgeworth, surely there’s more to it than that?”
The prosecutor stiffened. “...More?”
Athena almost stumbled as a wave of emotions hit her, suddenly. Fear, shock, and something close to happiness that she couldn’t quite put her finger on, intensely, all at once. Oof, there we go! “I— yeah! After all, you, er,” fuck I was just trying to push his buttons what do I say now, “You...seem to get along really well outside of court too! Your relationship with him isn’t just about what happens in court, right?”
Edgeworth seemed to relax slightly — Athena tried not to lean towards him too much, or touch Widget. Those were tells that she was listening to someone intently, according to Apollo. “Right, of course. I never meant to suggest anything to the contrary.”
Athena frowned. There’s still sadness there? Disappointment? “Sure. Sorry.”
She turned back to the window, deep in thought. Was there something about Mr. Edgeworth’s relationship with Mr. Wright that she’d missed? Through all of their interactions, they seemed perfectly in sync with each other. They obviously cared about each other a lot, though they certainly weren’t above teasing and banter — they were rivals, after all.
…But were they, really? Yes, they were rivals in court, thanks to their professions. But both of them seemed to have the same goals, in the end — to find the truth, and bring the perpetrators of horrible crimes to justice. No, rivals is definitely the wrong word…
And yet when Edgeworth described Wright as a friend, he felt sadness. If they aren’t rivals, and Prosecutor Edgeworth doesn’t like to think of Mr. Wright as a friend…OH—
“EDGEWORTH IS IN L—”
Before she had even fully processed the fact that Widget was making a noise, her hand darted to her neck and found the volume button, cutting the device off, panic knotting in her chest. Edgeworth glanced over at her, looking slightly alarmed. “What?”
“N—nothing! Really!” she said, her voice jumping an octave. “I— Widget just—”
Edgeworth smiled, making a noise in the back of his throat that might have been a chuckle, but it was hard to tell, even with her hearing. “I understand if you would prefer to keep your thoughts private, Miss Cykes, although I must say I’m curious…”
“Er—”
“I believe the phrase you used was ‘watcha thinking about’?”
Athena swallowed, frozen, her face turning bright red, Widget blue with fear. “I—”
At that moment, the door on the other side of the corridor clicked, and Simon stepped out. Athena almost melted with relief, bounding towards him. “Heyyy! Simon! Are you ready to go?!”
The prosecutor smirked at her as he strode towards them, hands in his pockets, Taka on his shoulder. “You’re enthusiastic.”
“Yeah, well, it’s been ages, right?!” she said, slightly too loudly, grabbing his sleeve, glancing over her shoulder at Edgeworth. “And you kept me waiting, let’s go go go!”
Blackquill blinked, a little confused, glancing at Edgeworth. “Sorry about this, Edgeworth-dono.”
Edgeworth shrugged. “You have nothing to apologise for, Prosecutor Blackquill. It is your lunch hour.” He nodded to Athena. “I’m glad the two of you are able to reconnect like this.”
Athena grinned at Edgeworth. “Thanks to you. Partly.”
“Yes, well.” The corner of his lip quirked upwards. “Perhaps we can finish this conversation another time, Miss Cykes.”
“Y-yeah, sure! C’mon, Simon…” she stammered, practically dragging the prosecutor down the corridor. Blackquill rolled his eyes, mouthing another ‘sorry’ over his shoulder at the chief prosecutor.
Edgeworth stared after them, unsure of whether he should be amused, concerned, or completely dumbfounded.
December 22, 5:07pm
Wright Anything Agency
“I’m telling you Apollo, it's the only thing that makes sense!”
Apollo attempted to focus on the court report in front of him as Athena paced back and forth across the office. “Yeah, sure.”
“Are you even listening?! Prosecutor Edgeworth said Mr. Wright was a ‘very dear friend’, and he felt sad while saying it. Their friendship is as solid as ever, so there's no other explanation! He wants more than friendship!”
“You don't know that for sure, Athena.”
“Oh yeah?” she said hotly, one hand on her hip. “When I accidentally suggested there could be more than friendship there, (I mean I didn't say that, but I think that's how he interpreted it,) his reaction made perfect sense for someone who wanted that! Hope, shock, fear—”
“Sure, sure, maybe you’re right then.” The real question is what the fuck the High Court’s stance is on when you can consider extrinsic materials when you’re interpreting ambiguity in a contract… he thought, trying to stop his eyes from skipping ahead as he read the judgement for a contract law case from a decade ago. It had come up in a conversation he’d had with Klavier, and the issue had been bugging him for months. If the High Court wanted to contradict itself it could at least be consistent about it…
“Apollo, this is serious!” Athena protested, exasperated.
“What’s serious is the fact that the High Court’s stance on the Codelfa rule is impossible to work out—”
“The what now?”
Apollo looked up, raising an eyebrow. “See, this is why all of you studying law in Europe and then practising here makes no sense. You don't actually know any of our laws without looking them up.”
“Sh-shut up. At least I have a better grip on my priorities than you,” she huffed, glancing over his shoulder. “Contract law? Really? You’re a criminal lawyer! And besides, you should be thinking about Prosecutor Edgeworth’s obvious feelings for our boss!”
Apollo put his head in his hands. “No, Athena. We really shouldn't. Besides, ‘obvious’? Really?”
“Yeah! At least, it was after I realised,” she sighed, dropping down into the chair next to him. “Like, I haven't seen them interact much outside court, but in court? Oh boy, I swear to god, they were practically flirting the whole time.”
Apollo sighed, giving in. There was no way he was going to focus with Athena like this. He tore a sticky note off the pad on his desk to mark where he’d been up to, sticking it in the book. “Flirting?” he echoed, barely feigning interest.
“Well, kind of! They kept playing off each other and teasing each other! They argued over their aesthetic sense! Hell, even the phantom called them “close enough to argue”! He literally compared them to an old married couple! God, how did I not notice—”
Apollo blinked, not really sure all of that counted as flirting. “I mean, to be fair, you were a little preoccupied—”
“And oh my god, afterwards. Mr. Wright told Prosecutor Edgeworth he should smile more. Edgeworth said he’d think about it. Oh my god.”
Apollo blinked. “…That’s not exactly flirting, I don't think.”
Athena frowned, almost pouting. “Yeah, well, you couldn't hear their hearts while they said all of it. They really are like an old married couple. Besides, you hang out with Klavier Gavin, and he’s flirting with you nonstop and it goes right over your head—”
“—with everyone nonstop, and it does not—”
“—so you’ve probably become so desensitised to any flirting that’s more subtle than Klavier sauntering up to you and going, ‘Is that a bloodied utility knife in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?’ It doesn't affect you at all,” she finished, crossing their arms.
Apollo stared at her, growing more and more alarmed, frown deepening, unable to decide whether he should be hurt by the utility knife joke because it was still too soon, or concerned for Athena because surely she was still hurting over all of that too, or whether he should just ignore it completely because there was way too much to unpack there. He swallowed. “I still don't think that's flirting. It could be interpreted either way. And besides, Wright’s kind of…right. Prosecutor Edgeworth hardly ever smiles, and frankly it's a little concerning.”
Athena considered this for a moment, and then sighed. “Okay, so they weren't flirting flirting, but— wait.”
Apollo braced himself. “…wait?”
“WAIT,” she repeated, her eyes widening. Then, without warning, she rounded on Apollo, slamming her hands on the table. “Did your bracelet react when Mr. Wright called Prosecutor Edgeworth ‘Daddy’ during the trial?!”
“No, I…” His eyes widened as he realised what his co-worker was implying, and he recoiled in his seat, his face turning scarlet. “Athena, that is not the kind of tension I can sense!”
Athena opened her mouth to protest, before standing back, putting her hand on her hips. “Oh, true, that checks out. Otherwise you would have already gotten with Klavier.”
“What?!”
“Anyway,” she said, tossing her bangs out of her eyes. “We have to know now, right? Whether or not they really have feelings for each other?”
“Athena, that’s none of our business!”
The ginger grinned at him. “Oh, come on, Apollo! I thought it was you who said that once a seed of doubt had been planted…”
“What doubt?! Athena, we should stay out of this!”
“Look,” she said, her voice becoming slightly more serious. “I owe a great debt to both Prosecutor Edgeworth and Mr. Wright. And if this is a chance for both of them to be happy, we should help to make it happen!”
“Fine! You can do what you like, but I’m not helping you play matchmaker!”
“It’s not playing matchmaker!” she protested, giving him a good-humoured punch. “It’s…helping two people discover the truth about themselves.”
“Athena.”
She was smiling at him, far too sweetly. “Fine. I don't want you to help me ‘play matchmaker’, Polly. I just want a bit of help working out whether Mr. Wright returns Prosecutor Edgeworth’s feelings.”
“Then ask Trucy,” Apollo said sourly, crossing his arms. “I’m sure she’d have a better read on Mr. Wright anyway. She’s his daughter.”
“But you have the bracelet.”
“…Hmph.”
Athena sighed. “Look, Apollo, either you can help me out with this, or you can get dragged into it later, when Trucy inevitably gets involved. We both know she’s an unstoppable force no one can say no to, especially you. So you may as well save yourself the trouble and agree to help from the outset.”
Apollo considered this, his shoulders sagging. Athena was right — if Trucy did puppy dog eyes at him, he’d agree to just about anything. Agreeing now would save time. “Ugh, fine. I’ll talk to Mr. Wright.”
Athena grinned, punching the air with her first. “Yes! Another win for analytical psychology!”
Apollo snorted. “Psychology? I think you mean manipulation.”
“Potato potahto,” she said, unable to keep a hint of smugness out of her tone. “I’m going home. Have fun with your dumb contracts case.”
Apollo sat up, bristling, taken aback. He expected that kind of talk from Trucy, but Athena? “You are a lawyer, how can you—?!”
“I’m teasing, I'm teasing!” she laughed, fetching her keys out of her bag, twirling them on her finger. “See you tomorrow! We can talk about you-know-what!”
Apollo deflated slightly. “Yeah, right. You-know-what.”
Athena grinned, almost wolfishly. “Yup. Bye!”
And then she slammed the door.
Apollo sighed, sinking further into his chair. I’ve agreed to meddle with my boss and the Chief Prosecutor’s love life. This is great. Just great.
He yawned, running his hand through his spikes to make sure they were in place. He wasn't really sure what he thought of Athena’s theory — it seemed unlikely, but when it came to feelings, she hadn’t been wrong before. Still, I like to think I would have noticed something…
Was it really so unusual that this would go over his head, though? It wasn't like Mr. Wright talked about Prosecutor Edgeworth a lot — not to him, anyway. He knew they had a long history, and they placed a huge amount of trust in each other, but that was it, really. Yes, he knew about the prosecutor’s old reputation as a demon, and the tabloid articles from when Mr. Wright had absolutely decimated his perfect record, but that told him very little about their relationship. He'd certainly never asked Mr. Wright about it, so it followed that he'd should never have noticed him lying about it either.
God, I can't believe Athena actually got me thinking seriously about this…
He pushed away from the desk, stretching, rolling his shoulders, before shutting the casebook with a heavy thud. This wasn't even close to the weirdest thing he’d done since joining the agency, so he might as well get on with it. I guess when the opportunity arises, I’ll get Mr. Wright talking about Prosecutor Edgeworth…
He gathered up his notes, and left the office, silently praying a good moment would never come.
December 23, 3:20pm
Wright Anything Agency
Not even twenty-four hours later, Apollo decided that God had forsaken him, and he should never try this praying thing again.
“Apollo? I’m heading off early to see Edgeworth. Will you be alright locking up here?” Phoenix glanced over his shoulder at his junior, whose brow was creased with something like annoyance and exasperation, as usual.
Still, something about his voice seemed a bit more strained than usual when he replied. “E-Edgeworth?”
Phoenix blinked. It was hardly unusual for him to visit Edgeworth, although he supposed he didn’t normally go out of his way to announce it. Maybe Apollo didn’t realise. He shrugged, pushing his hands into his pockets. “Yeah. It’s…a rough time of year for him. I just want to check he’s okay.”
Apollo frowned, nodding. “Yeah. It sure is…Christmas?”
Phoenix smirked, relishing the look of confusion on the younger attorney’s face. “No, Apollo. It's almost Christmas.”
“…So?”
He put his hands on his hips, smug. “Almost Christmas means it wasn't Christmas, Apollo.”
Apollo took a deep breath, looking incredibly tired. “I…sure, Mr. Wright. Yeah. I guess so. But…what does that have to do with Mr. Edgeworth?”
Phoenix’s grin broadened, enjoying himself far too much. There really was nothing like winding up Apollo, especially by being cryptic. “It has everything to do with Edgeworth. That very fact saved his life once.”
“That…the fact that almost Christmas isn't the same as Christmas,” he echoed flatly. “Yeah. That makes perfect sense.”
Phoenix waited silently, trying not to laugh as the junior attorney’s scowl deepened. “Do you want a clue?”
Apollo looked up at him, somewhere between irritated and distraught. “Do I want a clue?! Mr. Wright, just once, I was hoping you could be straight with me.”
Phoenix lifted a hand to rub underneath his jaw, swallowing hard. Ha, straight…
Almost instantly, Apollo jumped as if he’d been startled by a loud bang, his hand leaping to his wrist, his eyes round with shock, before he forced his shoulders down and frowned even more in an attempt to hide his reaction.
Phoenix froze. Okay then. “…I suppose I could explain the Christmas thing.”
That seemed to satisfy Apollo, or at least distract him. He leaned forwards slightly, his eyes round. “Seriously? You’re going to actually explain something? No messing around?”
He grinned. “I'm always serious, Apollo.”
Apollo hesitated. “…You called Edgeworth ‘Daddy’ in court yesterday.”
“…I’m always serious, Apollo,” he repeated, grin broadening.
“Mr. Wright, please,” he said, with more emotion than Phoenix was expecting, his voice almost breaking. “I know that was a lie, thank God, but don't even—” He broke off, muttering something that Phoenix didn't quite catch.
Phoenix bit his tongue as he tried not to laugh. God, messing with Apollo was fun, but by no means did he want to break him completely. “If we are getting into this,” he said carefully, adopting a genuinely serious tone, “I promise there’ll be no more jokes. It's all kind of…too heavy for that.” Edgeworth definitely wouldn’t appreciate it if I made a joke out of it all.
The attorney blinked, glancing up at him. “Oh. Sure. Okay then. We’re doing this. What's the deal with Christmas?”
Phoenix hesitated, wondering for a moment whether Edgeworth would want him telling Apollo about this. It wasn't something he talked about a lot, and when he did talk about it, he was always very vague. But then again, Edgeworth was vague about everything, and it wasn't exactly a secret — it was all there in the old court records. He wouldn't be telling Apollo anything he couldn't go and look up. “Yeah, er. Christmas was when Edgeworth was accused of murder, ten years ago.”
Apollo was silent for a moment, frowning — he had a different frown to Edgeworth. Just as deep, but more pouty. “That’s…familiar.”
Phoenix nodded. “It was all over the news. Early Christmas morning, he allegedly shot a man while they were both on a boat, but the whole thing was a set-up by his…” he trailed off as he remembered who he was talking to, hesitating. “…mentor.”
Apollo’s frown deepened, something in his eyes growing dark. “Okay.”
Phoenix cleared his throat, as though that would alleviate the awkward tension that was beginning to settle in the room. “Anyway. There was a case from 2001 that became relevant, called DL-6, and it's, er…it's Edgeworth’s UR-1. In a lot of ways.”
Apollo hesitated. “Is it okay for me to ask—”
He shrugged, shushing him with a wave. “It’s fine. It's all in a casebook somewhere anyway. The victim was Edgeworth’s father, Gregory, a really brilliant defence attorney — Edgeworth looked up to him a lot. An earthquake hit the courtroom, and Gregory Edgeworth, Miles Edgeworth, and a bailiff became trapped in an elevator. The bailiff panicked, and became violent, attacking Edgeworth’s father. A gun fell onto the floor in front of Edgeworth. He fired a warning shot to try and get the bailiff away from his Dad, and then passed out. When he woke up, Gregory had been shot through the chest.”
Apollo’s eyes widened with horror. “Then— Did Prosecutor Edgeworth—”
He was already shaking his head. “No. No, Edgeworth didn't kill his father. That was the mentor too.”
“Oh.” Apollo sat back. It really was like UR-1. “And he was your client?”
Phoenix nodded, smiling a little fondly. “Yeah, but it took some convincing before he let me take the case. He was scared that he had really killed his Dad, and if that was true, he didn't want me to get involved.”
Then, slowly, Apollo’s expression changed, to something like disbelief, or alarm. “You, specifically? Do you know why?”
He nodded again. “He never said so outright, but I’ve always assumed it was because we had a bit if a history. We were friends when we were kids, and I knew his dad. But Edgeworth left suddenly after he died, and cut ties with everyone he knew. I never knew the reason why he cut us off, and I think he still wasn’t ready to tell me.”
“Uh…huh. You and Edgeworth are childhood friends,” he said, as though he wasn't quite sure what to do with that information.
“Yeah, but after DL-6, I didn't see him for years. Not until we faced off in court.” Not until Mia’s death.
Apollo nodded slowly. “So, almost Christmas…?”
Phoenix blinked, and then laughed. “Oh, right. The murder on the boat that Edgeworth was accused of? There was a shot that was fired before midnight on Christmas Eve, and someone on the radio said that it was ‘almost Christmas’. But if it wasn't Christmas when the shot was fired, that contradicted a couple of people’s testimonies,” he grinned. “I dunno, I said it with enough passion that Maya sends me messages saying ‘ALMOST CHRISTMAS MEANS IT WASN’T CHRISTMAS!!!’ at 11:50 on Christmas Eve each year. We think it's funny.”
Apollo shrugged, looking bemused. “Sure. Whatever you say.”
“That's the spirit,” he grinned, adjusting his bag as it began to slip off his shoulder. “Anyway, have fun without me. Look up the 2016 case if you’re curious.”
“Yeah. I think I will…”
Phoenix gave him one last nod before unhooking his coat from behind the door. He unzipped his bag to check he had everything he needed with him, checked his pockets for his phone, keys, and wallet, outstretched one hand to open the door—
“Was Edgeworth the reason you became an attorney?”
Phoenix froze, his hand on the doorknob, stunned, caught completely off guard. What the…did he work that out using his power or something? “I…what makes you say that?”
There was a brief pause. “Oh, I, er. You said that you knew him, right? When you were kids? And that he was a defence attorney? Was he, I dunno…some kind of childhood hero?”
Phoenix’s shoulders sagged as he released a breath he hadn't realised he’d been holding, turning around. “Oh. Oh, you meant Gregory.”
Apollo was clutching his wrist, looking confused. “Yeah, who else would I— oh.” He broke off, frowning. “Is…is Prosecutor Edgeworth the reason you became a lawyer?”
Phoenix swallowed. “Is there any particular reason why you’d think that?”
“Because you got really tense when I asked the first time, and you’re not saying no.”
“Yeah. Yeah, sorry, I—” he took another deep breath, calming himself down. “You just...caught me off guard then. I thought you could suddenly read my mind or something,” he said, laughing nervously.
The corner of Apollo’s lip quirked. “No mind reading, I promise, but…are you going to tell me?”
“Yeah. Yeah, sure,” he said, running one hand through his spikes. “It’s probably a bit anti-climactic though. Nothing to do with justice or homicide or anyone being in jail.”
Apollo shrugged, looking at him expectantly. “That's fine.”
Phoenix nodded. “Yeah. Well, basically, Edgeworth and I were close friends for a couple of months in primary school, right before DL-6. I was accused of stealing lunch money, and our class set up a kind of mock trial, but he stuck up for me. Edgeworth — Miles — wanted to be a defence attorney back then, just like his dad. But DL-6 happened, and he moved away. The next time I heard about him after that, I was in college studying theatre, and he was already a prosecutor. I saw the first newspaper articles calling him the demon prodigy, saying that he was using dirty tactics, forging evidence, that defendants had died on the stand while he prosecuted, and I didn't want to believe any of it. That wasn't the Edgeworth I knew. I tried to contact him more times than I can count, but I never got a reply. So I…I changed my degree so that I could maybe see him again, and work out why, and change him back.”
He waited tensely while Apollo considered this in silence, swallowing, feeing self-conscious. “Sorry, it's probably, er. Not quite the reason you expected from the turnabout terror, or whatever. I mean, I wanted to defend people with no one on their side, too, because feeling alone feels awful, but…Edgeworth also kind of put that idea in my head after he defended me. When we were nine.” There was a short beat. “Over lunch money.”
Apollo nodded, brow creased again. “So basically…you studied law because you wanted to know why Edgeworth had changed so much? You…you weren't actually interested in law? You just wanted to fix Prosecutor Edgeworth?”
Phoenix shrugged. “The word I used was ‘save’, not fix. I wanted to save him from what ever made him like that. It’s not that I didn’t think Edgeworth should change at all, but I knew this ‘demon prosecutor’ everyone talked about couldn’t really be him.”
Apollo nodded, pausing, taking a deep breath. “And he meant so much to you that…you just wanted your friend back, right?”
Phoenix hesitated. That was mostly true. That was the core of it. He’d be lying if he said the thought of something more than friendship hadn’t occurred to him occasionally, but that wasn’t a big thing, and Apollo didn’t need to know. That wasn’t something anyone knew. He brought one hand to the back of his neck, brushing his fingers through the short hair at the nape of his neck, not quite meeting Apollo’s eye. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess you could say that.”
Then Apollo made a very strange noise in the back of his throat — quiet, but still definitely there. Phoenix glanced back over at him, lowering his hand. The junior attorney’s eyes had grown a little wider, his mouth fallen agape. “Apollo? Are you alright?”
As Apollo swallowed, trying to collect himself, Phoenix heard the harsh sound of chains dragging over each other as three psyche-locks appeared in front of him
Wait, what?
Apollo shifted in his seat, oblivious to the locks hanging in the air around him. “I—It’s nothing. I’m fine!”
Phoenix let his gaze turn slightly darker, a shadow of the expression he’d occasionally worn when he and Apollo had first met. “Apollo, you can't lie to me.”
The defence attorney opened his mouth to protest, and then shut it again, pressing his lips together. “Right. Because of that magatama thing.”
Phoenix nodded. “So—”
“But,” he went on, “Neither can you. And I think I just got some kind of tell from you. So either you tell me what that means, or we call it even.”
Now it was his turn to be confused. He frowned as he reached to touch his neck again. “A…tell?”
“Yeah, you touched your neck, exactly like you’re doing now. While we were talking about Edgeworth.”
Phoenix hastily drew his hand away, frowning. What did I even say? “I—I did?”
Apollo nodded. “You did.”
“When—”
“When you confirmed that when you were saving Edgeworth you “just wanted your friend back”?” he said carefully, his eyebrows knotted together.
Thinking fast, Phoenix paused. Oh. Oh fuck. He glanced at the locks hovering around his junior, swallowing. Before I can ask him about those, he’s going to have me get into that…
Attempting to hide his panic, Phoenix smirked, putting his hands up in mock surrender. Bluff, just bluff, you’re fine. “Alright, alright, you got me. I may not have told you the whole truth.”
Apollo’s eyes widened. “Meaning?”
His grin broadened. “I also thought someone ought to tell him how stupid that cravat was.”
“…Mr. Wright, even though you’re making a joke, you’re sweating a bit more than usual.”
Phoenix stiffened, shoving his hands into his pockets again, mentally dismissing the psychelocks still hovering around Apollo. Fuck it, fuck the psychelocks, I am not telling Apollo about my dumb teenage crush on the Chief Prosecutor, not today, not ever. “Right. Anyway.” He glanced at the door, trying to relax. “I should go meet Edgeworth. Don't make a mess in the office while I’m gone, huh?” he added, with a hint of a smirk.
Apollo was too high strung to even acknowledge the joke, his thoughts somewhere else entirely as he pretended to read whatever piece of paper had been in sitting front of him. “Yeah, sure.”
“Alright, good. Don't stay here too late. We wouldn't want you losing any sleep. And make sure you eat something.”
Apollo raised an eyebrow as he lowered the paper he’d been reading, looking his boss dead the eye. “Yes, Daddy.”
Phoenix’s smile dropped instantly and he slammed the door behind him, with a sinking feeling he would never be able to live that down.
December 23rd, 5:02pm
Edgeworth’s Apartment
His nerves had mostly settled by the time he reached Edgeworth’s apartment. Apollo, frankly, had been dangerously close to discovering how Phoenix had felt about the prosecutor.
How you still feel, said the little voice in his head, reminding him of Mia as it gently teased him. You may not be as hopeless now, but you’ve still got feelings for him.
Phoenix swallowed, pushing the thought away. He was more than content with the relationship they had. His friendship with Edgeworth was an absolute blessing that he’d fought tooth and nail for, and he didn't want to ruin it. But there was still a strange feeling of anticipation and a tightness in his chest whenever he saw him, and Phoenix couldn't pretend he didn't know what that meant.
He swallowed. If Apollo knew, it wouldn't be the end of the world. If he caught on, Phoenix imagined the younger attorney might be a little awkward whenever Edgeworth was brought up, but otherwise he'd be professional about it.
Just as long as Athena never finds out. Or, God forbid, Maya.
Pushing away his Edgeworth-related anxieties, he rang the doorbell like a mature adult who was not fazed by feelings so insignificant that his breath only caught slightly in his throat when Edgeworth opened the door.
The prosecutor looked tired, a mug of tea in hand (he was hardly seen without one at this time of year), the bags under his eyes a little more pronounced than usual, wearing a maroon sweater that fit him just a bit too well, hugging his torso in an impossibly flattering way. Then again, all his clothes did that, being as expensive as they presumably were. Either that, or Miles Edgeworth looked good in anything. Now that Phoenix thought about it, both were probably true. He should stop thinking about it.
He didn't mention any of these thoughts as he gave his old friend a wry smile. “I keep on telling you, hoodies are comfier.”
Edgeworth raised an eyebrow. “Says you, turning up in a suit.”
“Hey, I came straight from work—”
“And, as I keep reminding you, you are the last person I’ll ever take fashion advice from.”
Phoenix grinned. “Oh, are we really going through my aesthetic sense again? Because if I recall—”
“Wright—”
“It was you who said the waistcoat was an improvement—”
“Wright—”
“And my aesthetic sense was part of what just won me that trial!” he smirked, crossing his arms, wishing he had something to slam his hands on for emphasis.
Edgeworth just sighed, looking very tired. “Please just come inside.”
The inside of Edgeworth’s apartment was generally exactly what Phoenix had come to expect of him — spacious, immaculately clean, with sleek, thoughtfully chosen furniture, barring the Steel Samurai merchandise and a few eye-searingly ‘magenta’ pieces of decor, (Pink for cowards, Phoenix thought,) which he was sure Edgeworth had no idea were objectively terrible. Aesthetic sense, my ass. Pess, as usual, was lying in a plush, cream-coloured basket in the corner of the room, her ears pricking up as Phoenix walked through the door.
At this time of year, however, the almost sterile cleanliness of everything had a tendency to deteriorate a bit. It was nothing drastic — nothing you’d notice if you didn't know him as well as Phoenix did. Just an aggressively pink throw which was usually folded neatly across the back of the couch strewn across one end of it, crumpled. The recycling bin almost overflowing. The curtains still drawn, despite there being daylight outside. A handful of empty mugs on the coffee table, next to piles of papers — half finished tasks, and old case files. Phoenix glanced at Edgeworth. “Have you still got leftovers from yesterday?”
Edgeworth glared at him. “Of course I do, but it was wholly unnecessary for you to cook for me—”
Phoenix cut him off with a pointed glance at toward hoard of mugs which still hadn't made it to the dishwasher. Edgeworth sighed. “Fine, yes, it was helpful. Thank you.”
Phoenix frowned, giving the other a sidelong glance, his expression growing serious for a moment. “You know I don't mind doing unnecessary things for you. Especially not after everything you’ve done for me.”
“Yes, well…I could say the same.” Edgeworth pushed his glasses up his nose. “Perhaps we should call it even.”
He smirked, beginning to take off his blazer, turning to hang it on a hook by the door. “And get rid of my only excuse to make you try my mediocre pasta bakes? Never. Anyway, what’s all this?” he said, gesturing towards the papers.
“Just work,” he said carefully. “Highly confidential, probably.”
“Cool. Let’s leave it there and ignore it while we put Steel Samurai on later?”
Edgeworth barely suppressed a laugh. “I trust you with my life, Wright, but I think I’ll put those away. I don’t want to compromise my position in the prosecutor’s office.”
Phoenix glanced at him, his eyebrows rising, trying not to feel stung. “Come on, you know I won’t read them.”
“No, I know,” Edgeworth said gently. “But it would be negligent of me to leave them there. And not everyone in the Prosecutor’s Office trusts me as much as you.”
He grimaced. “That old reputation still haunts you, huh?”
Edgeworth sighed. “It always will, in some ways, but no, not actively. Still, I can’t be too careful.”
Phoenix nodded, letting Edgeworth gather up the papers and books on the coffee table, leaning against the kitchen counter. “I’m glad you’re in a good enough headspace to be getting work done. Given, y’know.”
Edgeworth glared at him, but not intensely enough for Phoenix to think that he meant it. “Your eloquence astounds me, Wright. But yes, I have been getting some work done, despite ‘y’know’.”
“And the nightmares?”
He hesitated. “Nothing debilitating. They’re not as bad as they were years ago, and even in the last few days they were…manageable.”
Phoenix grinned. “Must be the pasta bake.”
Edgeworth smirked at him. “I think it’s got a lot more to do with the way you uncovered the truth all those years ago. But sure, it’s your pasta bake that saved my life and turned me into man I am now, rather than your brilliant mind and adamant faith in me.”
Phoenix warmed at those words, he’s heart swelling in his chest. Edgeworth had gotten a lot better at showing gratitude, so much so that a backwards thank you with that much flair felt like things coming full circle. He’s grown so much. “Y-yeah. Of course. It’s a good recipe.”
Edgeworth snorted, picking a hefty law book off the table and snapping it shut, suddenly tensing up at the sudden bang. He grew still for a few moments, before gingerly tucking the book under one arm, bending to pick up the files, beginning to make a small pile. “I’m taking these to the office. Feel free to put the kettle on for yourself. There’s instant coffee in the pantry.” His brow furrowed slightly at the mention of instant coffee, but he left the ‘you heathen’ part unspoken.
Phoenix did, as the rest of the afternoon went on the way Advent Afternoons with Edgeworth™ typically did — they talked about anything other than DL-6, Manfred von Karma, and earthquakes over tea and other more plebeian beverages. They made dinner, (or in this case, heated up the dinner Phoenix had made the day before,) waiting until then to pull out the wine. Then, they would drink just enough alcohol for Phoenix to be happy to sit through a few Steel Samurai episodes without complaint, while Edgeworth was mellow enough to not become completely tense and withdrawn if the defence attorney should mention DL-6 by accident.
It wasn't something they’d been doing for a terribly long time — it wasn't until the prosecutor had flown him over to Austria when it was close to Christmas that Phoenix had even realised the nightmares were still an issue. During those years when he’d been without his badge, he’d become used to the idea of Edgeworth being the strong one, but after he noticed the prosecutor making tea in the dead of night a few nights in a row, it became pretty clear that something was still wrong. So he became determined to help Edgeworth get through December as painlessly as possible. That, and he didn't want Edgeworth to isolate himself again.
Edgeworth was carefully eyeing the bottle of red on the countertop. “So, are we going to stop pretending we only got that out as a complement for the meal yet?”
Phoenix grinned. “Sure, why not. I’ll pour, you pick something on Netflix for us to watch.”
“You say that as if there's any chance we won't be watching Steel Samurai.”
“Hey, I might as well try my luck. Who knows, maybe one day you’ll go for a legal drama we can pick apart for being inaccurate or something.”
The prosecutor snorted. “Trust me, Wright, I get more than enough entertainment from the trials you get involved in. Any regular courtroom drama would pale in comparison.”
“…That’s fair, actually.”
Edgeworth gave him one last smirk, before turning his back, reaching for the remote.
Phoenix sighed, pouring out the wine — they’d each already had a glass with dinner, but he didn't hesitate to give them both a fairly generous second drink for the evening. With the case they’d just been working on, they deserved it.
Edgeworth had sat down in his usual spot, nestled into the corner of the couch, leaning against the armrest. The lights were already dimmed, as was customary for their December movie nights. As Phoenix brought the glasses over, Pess’s ears pricked up, and she leapt to her feet, jumping up onto the opposite end of the couch, her tail thumping rhythmically against the leather.
Edgeworth straightened suddenly, glaring at her. “Pess, down.”
Pess looked at him pleadingly, before looking back at Phoenix, her mouth hanging open, almost grinning.
The prosecutor narrowed his eyes slightly, his glare intensifying, giving the dog a look that sent fear into the hearts of defence attorneys the world over. “Pess, get down.” He was using his courtroom voice now — Phoenix felt himself become immediately more on edge, an adrenaline kick shooting through him. Apparently he had some kind of Pavlovian response to it. Which was ironic, given that Pess, the actual dog, seemed completely unfazed.
Edgeworth sighed, standing up, reaching for the throw on the end of the couch. Pess’s expression brightened, and she leapt off the couch as Edgeworth spread the throw out across it, protecting it from being covered in dog hair as best as he could. The second he was done, the dog was on the couch again, sitting up, looking at Phoenix expectantly.
Phoenix blinked at her, putting the wine down on the coffee table. “What does she want from me?”
Edgeworth reached for his glass, nestling into his corner of the couch again and picking up the TV remote, a smile tugging at his lips. “She’s waiting for you to sit down so she can rest her head on you. She likes attention from visitors.”
“…Do I have a choice?"
He smiled wryly. “I’m afraid not. She’s not exactly trained to stay on the floor.”
“Because you’re soft on her?” Phoenix teased, grinning. The image of Pess cuddling up to Edgeworth whenever he came home made his heart feel warm. Pess just wagged her tail, staring at him with dark round eyes as it thumped rhythmically against a cushion.
“…Yes, Wright. If only you used that kind of inductive reasoning more in court.”
Aah. Of course Edgeworth had to turn a perfectly sweet moment into an insult. Of course it was Turnabout Time To Roast Phoenix.
He sighed, sitting down. Before he could get properly settled, Pess placed one forepaw on his thigh, resting her head in his lap, stretching herself out across the rest of the couch, and Phoenix found himself half-leaning against Edgeworth, his shoulder digging slightly into the prosecutor’s forearm. Edgeworth stiffened against the touch — Phoenix glanced at him, eyebrows furrowing slightly with concern. “Sorry, is this okay?”
Edgeworth blinked. “It’s fine.” He had a long sip of wine, before carefully placing it on the flat arm of the couch. “Not a problem.”
Phoenix shrugged. That would have to be good enough — it wasn't like he could do much about it anyway. Pess was a big dog, and if she was going to be on the couch with them, they’d have to all be a bit squished.
The prosecutor shifted slightly in his seat, turning on the TV and scrolling through the different Steel Samurai series available. Even after all these years, Phoenix couldn’t tell them apart. He knew Steel Samurai and Pink Princess were separate things, but that was about it. Still, Edgeworth enjoyed it, so he didn’t mind watching it with him. He preferred watching it with Edgeworth to watching it with Maya, at any rate. Maya was constantly trying to explain the plot, and the symbolism, and all the different ties and parallels between different moments in the show, and would go on tangents about fan theories and drama which frankly, Phoenix didn’t care about. Edgeworth would just watch, getting completely caught up in what was happening on screen, aside from occasionally commenting on the score or the choreography of the fights. Phoenix liked seeing him relaxed, at ease. He liked seeing his eyes lose their sternness, instead gazing at the screen with warmth and fondness he rarely afforded anyone. He liked seeing him smile, and laugh.
Okay, so maybe Phoenix didn’t exactly enjoy watching Steel Samurai with Edgeworth. But he did enjoy watching Edgeworth watch Steel Samurai.
“Do you mind if we watch the 10th anniversary movie? I’ve already watched the whole series this month.”
“Whatever you want. You know I don’t really know the difference.”
“Honestly Wright, we’ve watched Steel Samurai together how many times?”
“Yeah, but it’s all kind of similar. The Evil Magistrate is doing something evil. The Steel Samurai stops him. Everyone celebrates and gets ramen.”
Edgeworth raised an eyebrow. “You know there’s more to it than that.”
“Right, right, it’s burgers in the English version.”
Edgeworth rolled his eyes. “You’re preposterous.”
Phoenix grinned. “That’s me. Hey, can you pass me my glass? I don’t think I’m legally allowed to move with Pess lying here.”
The prosecutor nodded, reaching forwards to pick up the glass, still supporting Phoenix’s weight where he’d been leaning against him with his free hand. Phoenix took it, allowing Edgeworth to settle back into his seat before putting his weight against him again, leaning on his shoulder before taking a few long sips. As he drank, he couldn’t help feeling as though he was being watched intently. He swallowed, feeling a small blush coming on, glancing at Edgeworth. “Is—Is something wrong?”
“Oh, no. Of course not,” he said quickly. “I just, er…noticed your cufflinks. They’re shaped like…birds?”
Phoenix grinned. “Oh, yeah! They’re supposed to be doves. Trucy got them for me for Father’s Day.”
“That sounds…nice.”
“Yeah, it was adorable. She woke me up at 6am with pancakes and told me she’d considered cooking them into the batter, but Apollo told her they might…” he trailed off as he glanced at Edgeworth, who looked a little distant.
Right. Edgeworth didn’t do Father’s Day. Fuck.
“Shit, sorry Edgeworth, I didn’t mean to—”
“Remind me?” Edgeworth sighed, reaching for his wine. “I appreciate you trying, Wright. I was just caught off guard for a moment.”
“No, no, I should’ve been more careful—”
Edgeworth cut him off with a shake of his head. “You don’t need to be quite so on edge about it. It’s inevitable that people bring it up, especially at this time of year.”
Phoenix frowned. “Really? People still talk about the case?”
Edgeworth rolled his eyes, sipping the wine. “No, but the effort they go to not to talk about it at this time of year is painstakingly obvious. No one seems to be able to mention a lake or an elevator or an earthquake without looking in my direction like a deer in the headlights. This afternoon Gumshoe tried to apologise to me for discussing evidence with a colleague about a gunshot where I could overhear, despite that being his job.” He placed the wine back down on the table. “Regardless, there are reminders everywhere. Sometimes it’s worse when people make a big deal out of every single one.”
“…Right. I’ll keep that in mind.”
Edgeworth looked grateful. “Thank you. It’s better than when the entire police department would gossip about the case for the entire month of December, but it’s still…distracting. Thankfully some of the younger people in the office don’t seem to be aware of it, or at least not of the facts.”
Phoenix nodded, feeling a stab of guilt as he suddenly remembering his earlier conversation with Apollo. He should probably tell Edgeworth about that. He trusted Apollo not to make waves about it or talk about Edgeworth’s past with other people (why would he?), but Edgeworth should still know he’d told him. He cleared his throat. “Actually, um, about that.”
“Hm?”
“I should mention— I told Apollo some things about DL-6 earlier today. It, er. Came up.”
Edgeworth swallowed. “It did?”
“Yeah, I uh. It’s kind of my fault,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “I made a joke about “almost Christmas” to mess with him and ended up having to explain it. I didn’t tell him anything that wasn't in the case file, though, I think. I hope that's okay.”
Edgeworth sighed. “It's fine. He seems like a promising young attorney. There are certainly people who I’d prefer didn't dig through my past, but he isn't one of them.”
“…Yeah. Yeah, he’s a good kid. Not normally as angsty as he has been recently, though.”
Edgeworth’s lip quirked. “He’s twenty-three, Wright. And he did just lose a close friend.”
Phoenix grimaced. “Yeah, well. At least he’s got Truce, and Athena. They all seem to get on. And Klavier Gavin too, I suppose.” He had another sip of his wine.
Edgeworth nodded. “From what I’ve seen, I’d say that's right.” He lifted his glass slightly — the wine swirled around in the bottom, thinly coating the edges of the inside. “To good friends.”
Phoenix grinned, his chest growing warm. “Yeah. To best friends.”
Edgeworth smiled slightly, a touch of red at his cheeks. They clinked their glasses together, each taking a good, long sip.
If Apollo or Athena had been around, they both might have noticed a twinge of something.
Edgeworth downed his glass completely, placing it carefully on the table. “I actually told Miss Cykes about DL-6 today too.”
Phoenix almost choked on his wine. He lowered his glass, blinking owlishly at the prosecutor. “You told Athena about DL-6?” he echoed, dumbfounded. “I thought you didn't talk about it, ever, as a rule.”
He hesitated, placing one hand on his wrist, gazing at his empty glass. “Yes, well. Not usually. But there were so many similarities between DL-6 and UR-1. The way she thought she could have killed her mother for years, and the way you found the truth…” He trailed off, something in his eyes distant. “Years ago I would have been angry. Our experiences were so similar, and yet she’s so…different from how I was. She grew into someone kind, and optimistic, who wanted to help others, and I…didn’t.”
Phoenix blinked at him sadly. “I mean, you’re different people. On paper the cases look similar, but you went through different things. And it’s not like Athena doesn’t have flaws. Or trauma.”
Edgeworth raised his gaze, looking Phoenix dead in the eye with an intensity he wasn’t expecting. “Wright, within three days of meeting you again, I tried to put you on death row for a crime I knew you don’t commit. That’s flawed.”
There was a heavy silence for a few moments – Phoenix held Edgeworth’s gaze, his eyes round, feeling a strange kind of weight forming in his chest. Edgeworth never brought that up. As far as Phoenix was concerned, that was in the past. Most of the time, he forgot about it. Strangely, there were other things Edgeworth had done that had hurt more. He swallowed. “Yeah. Yeah, you did.”
Edgeworth grimaced. “Yes. So you can understand—”
“But Von Karma made you like that. As far as I’m concerned, that wasn’t you.”
Edgeworth stared at him, incredulous. “You really still believe that? I thought you were naïve then, but honestly Wright, you think Von Karma is to blame for everything I did to you? Don’t get me wrong, I’m ashamed of who I was back then, and it was still me. I can’t be absolved of all responsibility.”
Phoenix shook his head. “No. It wasn’t you. If not for Von Karma, things would have been completely different.”
“But—”
“You wouldn’t have become so ruthless,” he pressed, cutting him off. Edgeworth had brought this up, so Phoenix didn’t hold back. “You wouldn’t have cut Larry and I off. You would have cared about more than guilty verdicts. That wasn’t the Miles Edgeworth I knew.”
Edgeworth grew silent for a moment. Then he chuckled softly. “So, we’re applying a ‘but for’ test to this, are we?”
Phoenix stared at him. Of course Edgeworth would try and analyse this from a legal perspective. He and Apollo should hang out or something. “Sure, why not? But for Manfred von Karma, you wouldn't have moved away from me and Larry and become a prosecutor.”
Edgeworth nodded. “And we’re talking about this with regard to the harm done to you, rather than the harm done to me?”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
He pushed his glasses up his nose, smiling wryly. “The ‘but for’ test is most often applied when establishing the causation element of the tort of negligence. However, the chain of causation can be broken by an intervening act — novus actus interveniens — therefore excluding the defendant — in this case, von Karma — from liability. An intervening act could include the act of a third party, of their free and independent will.” He swallowed, looking Phoenix in the eye now. “Wright, I believed in Von Karma’s teachings. I abandoned everything my real father stood for and believed that all defendants who called themselves innocent were liars. Moreover, after I left, I chose not to contact you. You tried to get in touch with me, and I chose not to reply. I consciously shut myself off from you. You should blame me for that, not Von Karma. There was a novus actus interveniens, and it was me.”
Phoenix blinked slowly. Was that seriously what Edgeworth thought about everything that had happened almost twenty years ago? Even now, he blamed himself for cutting everyone off? For becoming that cruel person who he’d since proved over and over that he wasn’t?
Maybe he’s right. Maybe I just blame Von Karma because it’s easier not to resent him that way.
No. No, that couldn’t be right. Von Karma had changed Edgeworth. The Edgeworth that Phoenix had known would never abandon his friends like that. Von Karma had fucked up his best friend, therefore he must be the one to blame for all this. And he would prove it.
“…Wright?” Edgeworth looked at him, nervously. “I—”
“No, you’re wrong. There’s a case. Chapman v Hearse.”
Edgeworth frowned, taken aback. “I’m sorry?”
“Chapman v Hearse,” he repeated, his brow furrowing as he tried to remember. “It was…something about causation…”
Edgeworth smirked, reaching for his glass. “Aah, I see, so this is the legal prowess of the turnabout terror. Not only does he pronounce case names with a ‘vee’ rather than the correct way, ‘Chapman and Hearse’, but this case stands for ‘something about caus—’”
Phoenix cut him off, suddenly remembering what the case stood for. “An intervening act doesn't prevent liability as long as the intervening act was a reasonably foreseeable result of the original act. Chapman v Hearse held that if the novus actus interveniens was a reasonably foreseeable consequence of the original act, then the perpetrator of the original act should have been aware of the possibility, and it doesn't count as an intervening act at all.”
Edgeworth stared at him, his eyes round. “I—”
“Besides, did you really have ‘free and independent will’? You were a child Edgeworth, and Von Karma was the only real source of guidance you had.”
Edgeworth looked away, glaring at the wall. “…Yes, well. The ‘but for’ test is flawed and there's a reason why we don't use it in criminal law.”
Phoenix deflated slightly. “I can’t dissuade you? You’re really going to keep on blaming yourself?”
Edgeworth said nothing, not meeting Phoenix’s eye. He took a long sip of his wine.
He sighed. “Edgeworth, look. There are definitely other things you’ve done that I blame you for. Things that I’ll never quite get over. Don’t get me wrong, I don't think you’re without flaws, and I don't put you on some kind of pedestal, but— Edgeworth, listen to me—” He broke off, resting one hand on the other’s knee. Edgeworth looked over in surprise, his eyes round. Phoenix swallowed. “Edgeworth, that person you became, the “Demon Prosecutor”, that wasn't you. That wasn't the Edgeworth I knew, who fights for the truth, and makes sure defendants get a fair trial, and cares about people. That Edgeworth was just…the reasonably foreseeable consequence of all the shit that von Karma did to you. Which is why I try not to resent you for any of it.”
The silence between them felt palpable — Phoenix refused to pull his gaze away, as though continuing to stare into those grey eyes would help the other man to understand. He was still leaning into the prosecutor, thanks to Pess, twisting his neck rather than his torso so that he didn't disturb the dog. With each passing second of silence, he dimly realised how close they were. His face must have been inches from Edgeworth’s – if he tilted his head forwards, their foreheads could have touched. Every shared touch seemed amplified – the pressure on his arm and shoulder where he was leaning against him, his own hand on Edgeworth’s knee, the soft fabric placed against his skin. But he still didn't pull away, or look away, because he needed Edgeworth to understand. It wasn’t his fault. That wasn’t him.
Finally Edgeworth sighed, and it wasn't until then that Phoenix fully realised just how close their faces were, as the prosecutor’s breath ghosted across his cheek. He felt heat spreading across his face as he made an effort not to think about that as the other man spoke. “Yes, well. I’m…” Edgeworth swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing heavily in his throat. Soft light from the kitchen outlined his features, striking the bridge of his nose and his cheekbone, illuminating the edges of his face. “I’m not used to thinking in that way.”
Phoenix nodded. By this point, he wasn't sure he was thinking much at all. He couldn't take his eyes off Edgeworth’s lips as he formed the words.
Before he could do something he might regret later, he let out a pained yell as white hot pain shot through his lower back. “Shit!”
“Ph- Wright, are you okay?!”
“I— FUCK— My back— I need to stand up—”
“Pess, get down!”
Immediately, Pess leapt off the couch, and Phoenix stood up, one hand on the base of his spine. He felt a little light-headed, and although that could be due to any number of things – the pain, the wine, Edgeworth – he was pretty sure he was fine. But being twisted into an odd position to accommodate Pess hadn’t done his back any favours.
Was I about to kiss Edgeworth? Holy shit. Okay. That almost happened.
The prosecutor was standing as well, one arm around his shoulders, taking his wine glass from him. “Are you okay? Do you take painkillers for this?”
“Y-yeah, over the counter ones, if you’ve got some.”
“Do you want to sit again? Do you need a different chair?”
Phoenix shook his head, gritting his teeth. “Just—Just painkillers would be good.”
“Right.” Edgeworth removed his arm, quickly making sure Phoenix was steady on his feet, before moving towards the kitchen. “Is it safe to mix ibuprofen with alcohol?”
“I—yeah, I’ve done it before, it’ll be fine—”
Edgeworth shook his head, pulling out his smartphone, typing quickly. He was silent for a few moments. “You said you’ve mixed painkillers and alcohol before?”
“Yeah, when I was disbarred. Y’know, for hangovers. And back pain sometimes.”
The prosecutor stared at him, glaring. “Honestly Wright, the fact that you’re alive is a miracle. According to this, mixing drugs with alcohol can be quite dangerous. Especially for a binge drinker.”
“I’m not—”
“You’re not anymore, but I imagine the damage to your liver has been done. How else do you relieve your back pain? Is it muscular? Does stretching help?”
“Sometimes. Sometimes it makes it worse and I black out.”
Edgeworth sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Alright, how about applying heat?”
Phoenix nodded, jaw clenched as another wave of pain shot through his spine. “That could work.”
“Good. I’ll prepare a hot water bottle. Is it getting any better? Any worse?”
“The same, mostly.”
“Mostly?” Edgeworth pressed.
“Worse, but just for a second. That’s normal. It’ll go away.”
Edgeworth nodded. “Fine. Stay there.” Then he disappeared into the kitchen, Pess trotting after him.
Phoenix sighed, taking a deep breath. Standing wasn’t making the pain any worse, but he would prefer to sit if he could.
I almost kissed Edgeworth. Huh. That’s new. Is that new?
Carefully, he outstretched one arm, leaning on the edge of the couch as he slowly lowered himself down. He arched his back, closing his eyes, trying to block the pain out, trying to focus on making it go away. The image of Edgeworth’s face close to his flashed behind his eyes.
Shit. That nearly happened. Does he realise that nearly happened?
He absentmindedly wondered whether lying on his back would help. It did sometimes, and if he did end up blacking out, that was the position he’d rather be in. He gingerly shifted his position, turning around and lying back, placing a cushion under the curve of his spine, loosening his tie. That seemed to provide some relief.
I seriously was about to kiss him. Fuck. That would’ve been…bad? Maybe?
There was silence for a few more moments. Edgeworth was still gone.
I wonder if he’s right about my liver? I guess I never thought about it—
He was pulled from his thoughts as he heard Edgeworth’s footsteps approaching. “Alright, I’ve warmed this up, but it might be more effective if you take off your waistcoat—” He broke off as he saw Phoenix was already lying down. “You know what, forget the waistcoat, it’s fine. Can I put this underneath you?”
Trying not to dwell on the idea of Edgeworth removing his waistcoat, he nodded. “Nng, yeah, go for it.”
Phoenix stiffened as he felt Edgeworth place one hand carefully under his shoulders, lifting him up and sliding the hot water bottle under his back. “Is that okay?”
“Yeah, that’s good.” He opened his eyes, giving Edgeworth a pained smile. “I’ll be fine.”
Edgeworth nodded, sitting down in the armchair adjacent to the couch. “Is it getting any better?”
“Yeah, a bit. I’ll be fine. Do you still want to put Steel Samurai on?”
“If that’s what you want. It could be quite a good distraction.”
Phoenix nodded. “Yeah, that sounds good.” Edgeworth was a bit upside down from where he was lying, but still plenty distracting.
“Mm. Oh, and Wright?”
“Yeah?”
Edgeworth smiled as he caught Phoenix’s eye. “Thank you. For what you were saying about Von Karma. I’ll think about it.”
Phoenix smiled back. “Yeah. Make sure you do.”
“This is by no means an admission that you’re right.”
“I’m always Wright,” he grinned.
The prosecutor rolled his eyes, picking up the remote, and pressing play. He sat back in the chair, tucking his legs underneath himself, resting his head in his hand, the blue light from the screen reflected on his skin, his gaze softening. A small smile continued to pull at the corners of his lips – a stark contrast to his usual resting expression. If Phoenix had had a sketchbook with him he might have drawn him, with pencils or charcoal, soft and smudged.
Phoenix smiled contentedly. His back pain felt like it was going away already.
December 23rd, 10:59pm
Edgeworth’s Apartment
Even as the Steel Samurai movie played, Edgeworth’s mind wandered. Tomorrow he would try and tell himself he’d just been worried about Wright. Worried about his back, and whether he was right to withhold the painkillers, and whether he’d be able to drive home in his current condition. Like any good friend.
But if he was being honest with himself, he was more pre-occupied with everything before that. With the warmth in Wright’s eyes, and his smile. With every point of contact between them when he had leaned against him. With his refusal to allow him to feel anything other than forgiven and loved.
December was awful. December was a month of pain, and fear, and grief.
But with a couple of glasses of wine, Steel Samurai playing, and Phoenix Wright lying on his couch, sharing little stolen glances and knowing smiles, it was the most wonderful time of the year.
December 23rd, 3:50
Athena’s Apartment
“There's a chance,” Apollo sighed, his voice crackling slightly through the phone’s receiver. “There's definitely a chance.”
Athena was grinning, twirling a pencil between her fingers as she leaned back in her chair, feeling incredibly pleased with herself. “Tell me everything.”
“Okay, so.” There was a brief pause. “They have a really long history. Like, they knew each other when they were kids, but Edgeworth had to move away because of a certain murder case.”
Athena blinked. Was that the one he told me about? “Okay.”
“The next time Mr. Wright heard from Prosecutor Edgeworth, he’d changed into the ‘Demon Prosecutor’ — you’re probably a bit young to remember, but he had this reputation for being absolutely ruthless, getting guilty verdicts by any means possible. But that wasn't the Edgeworth that Mr. Wright knew, and he basically studied law so that he could see Edgeworth again.”
A grin began to creep across Athena’s face. “Yeah?”
“Uh-huh. And then I confirmed with him that the reason why Prosecutor Edgeworth mattered was because they'd been friends, and he, I quote, ‘just wanted his friend back’. And he got really tense.”
Athena was beaming now. “And?!”
“And I had to bail because he had the magatama with him, and I didn't want him to press me into confessing that you put me up to this.”
Athena’s shoulders sagged. That wasn't exactly concrete proof, but it was something. “So you think that wasn't just about friendship?”
“Yeah, I guess.” There was a brief pause. “And there was…something else.”
“Ooh, what?”
“Okay, so…” he trailed off, sighing, muttering something Athena didn't catch. Then: “He was being really vague and cryptic about some inside joke between him and Maya, and I asked if he could just be straight with me.”
Athena bolted upright in her seat. Straight? “And he got tense?!”
“He got so tense. But—” he cut her off before she could even take a breath. “That could mean anything. It could mean he was reluctant to explain the inside joke, since it was linked to something that’s pretty personal to Edgeworth. So I don't know.”
Athena nodded, not letting that ruin her mood. This was still great progress. “Still. It's a possibility.”
“Yeah. Why are you so invested in this, anyway?”
“Because! I’m really certain about Prosecutor Edgeworth’s feelings, and it would just be depressing if Mr. Wright didn't like him back.”
The phone line crackled as Apollo sighed again. “Athena, that could just be the way it is.”
“So you think Mr. Wright has never had feelings for Prosecutor Edgeworth?”
“…No.”
She grinned. “Then stop worrying. Besides, it's not like we can force anything to happen. We’ll just…encourage it.”
“…Sure. But remember that this is our boss, and the Chief Prosecutor, and we really shouldn't be—”
Athena rolled her eyes, hanging up. She didn't need Apollo’s (perfectly reasonable) worrying right now. She had another phone call to make. She took a second to scroll through her contacts, finding the person she wanted.
“Wie geht es dir, Frau?”
“Sehr gut, danke Klavier,” she grinned. “You busy?”