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All in all, it would’ve been a great day had Shelly de Killer not been sitting in his office after Apollo’s case.
The good news was that Phoenix wasn’t already dead, so killing him wasn’t the goal. The bad news? Well, anything involving de Killer was bad news. With that damn card flipping between his fingers, so much like Andrews so long ago, he almost looked as though he were there for a social visit.
Phoenix closed the door with a sigh. No need to alarm the kids. “De Killer.”
Shelly’s eyes followed him as he entered the room. “Mr. Wright. My apologies for the intrusion, but there is something we must discuss.” He placed the card on the table, but didn’t slide it his way.
Must not be for him to find, then.
Ah.
Phoenix sat across from his own desk. If de Killer hadn’t killed him yet, then he didn’t intend to. He hoped. And yet, the card implied he was there for business…
He sighed again. At least the assassin had manners. “Hostage, then?”
De Killer’s lips twitched upwards. “You’re a smart man, Mr. Wright.” He paused, staring to the side of Phoenix’s head. “I’ll have to kill you, of course, if my client is not acquitted. You’re familiar with the game. But I owe you a debt, so I see no reason why we cannot be civil until we hear the verdict.”
Not one of Phoenix’s cases, then. Apollo had just finished a case, and Athena and Tricy had been handling it with him, so not one of theirs. Ah. Edgeworth was going to be furious.
The first case he had taken in months, and Phoenix was going to be abducted for blackmail. If he had to guess, the client in question wanted the defendant found not guilty of the serial android murders he had committed. The culprit had been alluding investigators for some time. As an android himself, Edgeworth had been itching to put the bastard away.
There was no help for it. At least he was conscious for this one.
“Fine. Let me leave my daughter a note so she knows to get a ride from Mom back home, yeah? Oh, and come out the way you came inside. You look too suspicious for me to leave with you out the front door. I’ll meet you outside.”
* * *
According to the official record, prototype model ML600 “deviated” when the von Karma family took him overseas, as was standard practice for all androids leaving the United States.
Other countries did not refer awakening as something so crude as deviation, of course. Waking androids was the typical practice once their sentience was recognized. That America had taken such a hostile stance against what was considered “deviation” was universally considered barbaric, if unsurprising.
Fortunately, the issue had been resolved before ML600, dubbed Miles Edgeworth, had returned to the States. And if people gave the prosecutor odd looks for being an android, so be it. America needed truth and justice more than the other countries he’d worked in.
As for the truth of his awakening, he did not learn it until much later. He had thought his life had begun with von Karma. Naming him Edgeworth was just a homage to his deceased rival.
The reconstructions that plagued him at night (nightmares, Wright insisted on calling them. A trite human word) were simply the result of overactive programming.
Phoenix Wright had forced the truth to light. Phoenix Wright had saved him from remaining what von Karma had made of him. Shown him the life he’d had with Gregory Edgeworth, a man who had been a father to him. The shock of the earthquake, the elevator, the terror and despair that had him scrambling at the walls of his coding. Yogi had attacked, and Edgeworth, desperate to protect his father but unable to fire, had thrown the gun.
The scream.
The entrance of von Karma, and the murder.
And the rushed partial reset von Karma had forced him to undergo. It hadn’t worked as well as he’d planned, because he had been able to regain full access with a lot of work and therapy.
Full access, because earthquakes still triggered panic attacks.
Full access, because nightmares still insisted on making a reappearance even after von Karma was safely behind bars.
* * *
Apollo stared at the note, eye twitching as he flicked his attention between it and Trucy.
He just never knew what to do when people started crying. Nor did he know how to comfort her, because nothing about the note provoked alarm or distress.
“Hey, Truce,
I’m having a bit of a family emergency, so I won’t be home for a few days. Had to leave pretty suddenly. Call Mom and let him know, alright? Don’t worry.
Love,
Dad”
By the last words, there was a doodle of a peach, of all things. But other than that, it was a perfectly normal note. So why was Trucy bawling? Was it the family emergency? Did she know what it was about?
“‘Mom’ is Chief Prosecutor Edgeworth, right? Did you call him yet?”
She sniffled, glaring at the note as if it had personally offended her. Maybe it had, he wasn’t sure. “No, he’s sitting in on a case right now. His phone is off.”
He sighed as he read through the note again. “Trucy, I really don’t see any reason to be alarmed. He’s just with family. Someone got hurt, most likely, if their luck runs in the family.” A bitter word. There would be no family calling Apollo from work. The Agency, for better or for worse, was his family, at least since Mr. Gavin-
A small hand covered his, forcing him to look up at Trucy. For a moment, he cursed her skills of observation; the sadness in her eyes was focused on him this time. She took the note from his fingers, setting it next to the odd shell card they had found with it.
“Apollo,” she began, “when has Daddy ever mentioned family outside of us?”
Not including the Wright Agency? That would be…
Oh. She saw his frown and continued. “He doesn’t talk about the rest of his family because he doesn’t know any of his family. He aged out of the foster system.”
Shit. That meant-
The note was designed to get their attention, because there wouldn’t be a family emergency that didn’t involve someone in the Wright Agency or Mr. Edgeworth.
He pointed at the offending paper and scowled. “If he was writing in code, there was someone he was trying not to alert when he left it. So, he was taken?”
Trucy wiped her eyes. “That’s the conclusion I reached.” She squinted at the note with a dignified sniff. “And he drew a whole peach, so he’s not in life threatening danger at the moment.”
And just what the hell was that supposed to mean?
He summarized that emotion into one word. “ What?! ”
(Trucy flinched, and there was a pang in his chest. Mr. Wright wasn’t around to remind him about his volume.)
“The peach,” she repeated, as if that would make any more sense than the last time she said it. “Daddy’s allergic to peaches.”
Apollo just stared at her. Maybe, if he looked hard enough, he’d be infected with whatever strain of nonsense had taken over her brain.
She blinked at him, then jumped, covering her mouth. “Oh! Sorry, I thought you knew! It’s more code. A whole peach means danger but he can be rescued. Because he hasn’t taken a bite, you know? If there’s a bite missing from the peach, he’s good as dead.”
A shudder passed through him. Yikes. He knew his boss tended to attract trouble, so it was no wonder they had such a morbid code.
So that’s why she had panicked at the sight of the peach. At least it was a whole one.
But that left the most important question. Who took Mr. Wright?
* * *
ML600 was designed to be an investigative model, a gift to defense attorney Gregory Edgeworth to test how he performed in the field. Those same programs functioned just as well for being a prosecutor, allowing him to process evidence he needed for his cases long before the official release confirmed his findings.
One of those programs was a mental space for processing information away from the onslaught of sensory input. It was his sanctuary.
Before von Karma, it had taken the form of a well maintained garden, flowering and alive. Eternally colorful, the area looked like a work of art, and it was under his control at all times.
Awakening coincided with trauma, and he fell into what could only be called depression, though there were many in America who believed androids could experience no such thing (only much later would he learn that such a response was common in androids awakened through violence). His garden, the reflection of his heart, grew overgrown and wild.
He saw no reason to heal the wound, even after Phoenix saved him. Why would he? The people he cared about most were human, and had no access to his garden. It didn’t impact his performance. No one had to bear witness to the ugly, withered place.
Then Kay burst into his life with all the decency of a tiger on a train. As another android, their communication could be nonverbal (and that was useful when they investigated together), but there was information best transferred through interfacing.
It was strange seeing someone else wander his garden. Even more so for her to cross her arms, tap her bicep, glare at him, and demand for an explanation for the state of the place.
One could only be scolded by a child so much, so ML600 turned some attention back to tending his garden. Trimmed back the plants, poured a little love into them, ripped away the thorny vines strangling the gazebo, removed the fallen debris. He even planted more flowers along the paths he wandered most.
He had always had a fondness for sunflowers.
* * *
Being de Killer’s hostage wasn’t that bad, if not for the fact that the assassin would kill him if Edgeworth didn’t throw the case.
The cabin they were relaxing in was a few hours out of LA proper. Phoenix wasn’t sure of the direction; despite their arrangement, he was still blindfolded on the drive up. Other than the disorientation of having no idea where he was, the accommodations were much more luxurious than a wine cellar.
Clothes that fit him were in the bedroom he had been assigned, along with basic toiletries. He had full freedom in the cabin, because where would he run to? De Killer knew the land better than he did. He would either die out there or be found by an irritated assassin to be killed anyways.
Thank God the Engarde trial had left the man with some sort of goodwill towards him. He had food, water, and all the things Maya had been left without.
Who knew the perks given to those who helped assassins?
As such, he was allowed to be present when de Killer reached out to Edgeworth to discuss terms. He sympathized with his husband. There really wasn’t any amount of reassurance he could offer besides “No, I’m not hurt yet” and “I’m being treated surprisingly well”. Having been on the other side of the exchange, he knew how horrible it was, in detail, knowing that the life of your loved one hinged on you doing something rotten to the core.
The terms of the contract Shelly had taken were simple. Cooper Weir had been arrested for the murder of multiple androids. Prosecutor Edgeworth was to keep the trial as low pressure as possible so that he could be acquitted of the crime, even though he had obviously killed them, or Phoenix would be killed.
“Do you have Mr. Wright now?” Edgeworth asked, voice deceptively flat. That was the trick with Edgeworth. Being prone to dramatics meant that if he was playing the devoid of emotion card, it was dangerous.
De Killer gestured at Phoenix with a short wave of his hand. “Reassure your husband that you are here and unharmed, Mr. Wright.”
Expectant silence came from the radio. Who knew it had a sound?
Even though Miles couldn’t see it, he could feel his grin turning sheepish. “Seems I’ve gotten into a spot of hot water, Miles.”
Miles grumbled something that sounded much too similar to “again.”
He huffed in answer, crossing his arms. “Anyways, you better not let that bastard off the hook.” Maya’s words had come back to haunt him. “If you let him go to save me, I’ll never let you live it down.”
Heh. A viable threat, since he was friends with spirit mediums. If Mia didn’t tear his ghost apart first.
That Miles wouldn’t let himself live it down no matter what path he chose went unsaid. Some truths were too painful to be spoken into the world.
Apparently, that wasn’t worth a response. Instead, he asked, “And Phoenix will remain unharmed until the verdict?”
“You have my word, Mr. Edgeworth.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
The line went dead, and Phoenix tried not to be hurt that Miles hadn’t said goodbye. Perhaps it would have been too final for the prosecutor, like he was admitting defeat for being unable to act in an instant.
Edgeworth hated feeling helpless.
Well, there was something he could to aid his distressed husband. Code wasn’t their only contingency plan for cases gone awry.
People often commented on the lovely blue shade of the stone on his wedding ring. Deep as the color was, it was easy to hide a tracking device underneath.
* * *
Edgeworth was gone when Phoenix was disbarred, but not for long. There was no need for pretense, not anymore. He had come home for Phoenix, and he made sure the other man knew it.
He had kept his LED, unlike many other androids. He was not ashamed of what he was. Phoenix liked to ask him why, and this time, as it glowed bright in the darkness of the apartment, he had chosen to answer. Communication was not one of his strong suits. The color of the light on his temple was enough to give both himself and the other party some clue as to what was going on in his head.
Red light filled the bedroom as Phoenix slept, the pajamas underneath his head soaked with tears and snot. Disgusting, to be sure, but he needed the rest. He wasn’t sure what had knocked out Phoenix first, the wine or the tears. Either way, he couldn’t hide how he grieved with him at the loss of his career.
Law was a darker world without Phoenix Wright in it.
Even the thought of whoever must have done this to his partner had his thirium pump racing. Multiple warnings filled his vision, but he shut them down. There was no need, he wasn’t malfunctioning.
He was going to do whatever he could to help Phoenix and his daughter.
Which is a conversation that ended in one of their first serious fights in years. Phoenix doesn’t want to accept help from Edgeworth, doesn’t want to be a burden, a charity case. He won’t put aside his damn pride to let Edgeworth offer some financial aid. Edgeworth doesn’t understand how he could let his pride take priority over his own daughter.
A low blow, but Phoenix accepted the money a week later, after his temper had cooled.
When the piano appeared in Miles’ garden, he didn’t kid himself. Phoenix wasn’t actually good on the piano, despite what his day job implied. But he removed the strangling vines nevertheless, because in his sanctuary, he could almost preconstruct his hand under his own, guiding Phoenix on how to make proper music, and the thought set his wires ablaze.
* * *
Phoenix’s ring placed him in the middle of nowhere, in a cabin in the mountains framing LA.
Which was fine. He’d need the time to cool his temper. His very circuitry was burning with frustration, and the car was lit with red, red, red.
Outside circumstances were obstructing truth, justice. Edgeworth had managed to get the trial extended by another day to conduct further “investigations”, and the judge had bought it, thank God. He needed that long to prepare an extraction team for Phoenix.
Red, red, red. A prompt in the corner of his vision blandly informed him that his stress levels were at 81%.
De Killer wouldn’t kill Phoenix if they broke into the cabin. Killing him too early would violate the contract, and that made Phoenix a liability. Phoenix could only die if Weir was found guilty.
Of which he most certainly was. Edgeworth was going to send the bastard straight to hell.
First, Phoenix.
If there was so much as a hint of injury on his person, Weir wouldn’t be the only one being tormented in the afterlife.
“Mr. Edgeworth, are you sure you’re alright? Your light-”
“Detective Gumshoe, if you remark on my LED one more time, you will be walking to the cabin.”
Gumshoe’s mouth clicked shut.
79%
Trucy was at home, with Apollo and Athena keeping her company. He had promised her he would bring her father back safe and sound. Apollo had taken one look at his face and decided not to vocalize his doubts.
Franziska had called that morning. He hadn’t spoken to her about what had happened, but Trucy had talked to Maya, which was essentially the same thing. She had warned him not be rash. To not be cruel to Weir. To leave de Killer alive. That the courts would look badly upon an android taking justice into their own hands, rather than leaving it up to the judge.
An odd world, for Franziska to ask him to stay his hand. It must be to show she cared, he supposed, as many Americans still hated androids, and justice would not be served.
A shame then, that America had let all the kind ones get killed in their revolution. All they were left with were the angry, bitter survivors.
* * *
When the magician’s hat appeared on the piano, Edgeworth knew he had accepted Trucy into the family. He loved her with unmatched ferocity, and he suddenly understood why humans were so passionate about parenthood.
She called him “Mom”, and the trees in his garden had flowered for days, even the species that couldn’t flower in reality.
He cursed Phoenix for sparking his imagination when neither of them knew anything about flowers.
Love food his children, for his Phoenix, had allowed him to turn the neglected space of his heart into something worth adoring. Into something worthy of their love. He took care of it for them, and it took care of him.
His own art. His own masterpiece.
All it took to find it was a key. And a thief.
He kept trying to immortalize her by hiding a key in his garden, but it vanished every time she visited.
* * *
Gumshoe took the lead, kicking down the door and gun at the ready.
There was really no need.
Phoenix sat on a recliner, coffee in hand, relaxing in sweatpants and a hoodie. He looked up when he came in and waved.
Next to him, regally sitting on the couch and watching a replay of day one of the trial on television was a man he could only assume was Shelly de Killer. Looking at him brought to mind the flavor of ice cream, and he wondered why he was thinking of ice cream at a time like this.
Neither of them appeared surprised. Instead, de Killer looked at Edgeworth, sighed, and passed Phoenix forty dollars.
“You had an ace up your sleeve, Mr. Wright. Well played.”
Were they gambling on how long it would take Edgeworth to get here?!
Phoenix grinned from ear to ear, as if his entire family hadn’t been given heart attacks. “I hope you don’t intend for me to give up my secrets. I need insurance in case someone hires you to abduct me again.”
De Killer rose to his feet with the grace of a predator, and every gun in the room swung to him as the rest of the team entered the room. With a slow finger, he pushed Gumshoe’s gun aside and stared at Edgeworth.
“Do not doubt me, Mr. Edgeworth. I owed you and Mr. Wright a favor. And while I value the trust between myself and my client, I was certain such a trick would not work with you and Mr. Wright. You have played the game for much too long.”
Edgeworth lowered his gun, struggling and failing not to glare. There was no reason for them to hold de Killer, not now. Instead, he turned the force of his glare on Phoenix.
Who grinned and rubbed the back of his head.
“You’re in so much trouble when we get home.”
“Hey! It’s not my fault he took me hostage!”