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Chapter Text

Luke leaned and stretched his back with a wide, dramatic yawn.

“Did you sleep well, Luke?” asked Hershel as he straightened his hat.

“Surprisingly, yes,” Luke replied, almost hitting Edgeworth in the face as he lowered his hands. “I’d thought the engines would keep me awake, but after a while, it became rather soothing.”

“I know, right?” Phoenix added, rolling his shoulder as they walked. “It was like ASMR. Like white noise.”

“Huh?” Trucy finished fastening Mr Hat’s cloak around her shoulders. “What’s ASMR?”

“Uh…”

Hershel stifled a snigger as Phoenix awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck.

“It’s hard to describe,” the taller man said. “I’ll tell you when I’ve figured out a way to explain it so you can understand.”

The third American in their little troupe rolled his neck.

“Not that I didn’t sleep well too,” he said, adjusting his ragged cravat, “but I honestly cannot wait to return to an actual bed.”

Phoenix heaved an exhausted sigh.

“Tell me about it,” he groaned. “Thank god we’re finally back in civilisation.”

Hershel couldn’t help but smile at the sound of their conversation. No matter the circumstances, it always warmed his heart to listen to praise of old London town.

When they reached the doors, Luke was the first to jump out of the train, and Hershel heard a sigh of amazement from his sweet young apprentice as the steam-filled air of King’s Cross washed across the platform.

“Oh, wow,” the teen breathed. “It’s so much warmer down here!”

“Indeed,” Hershel responded. “Quite odd when one considers that the difference in elevation and global positioning isn’t all that large.”

“Yet in spite of that,” Edgeworth said behind him, “I don’t think I’ve ever been happier to return to London.”

“Same here,” said Phoenix, tugging his and Trucy’s suitcases over the gap to the platform. “Not that I hate Scotland, but damn am I glad it’s all over.”

As if on cue, the train doors slid closed behind them.

Hershel didn’t bother to voice it, but he couldn’t help but agree. No matter how his investigations turned out, it was never anything less than fantastic to return to his home at long last.

“Well,” he heard Edgeworth say, “I suppose I should get going-”

“No you don’t!”

“Trucy?!” Edgeworth almost toppled under the force of the ten-year-old grabbing his arm. “What are you-”

“Uncle Miles, you’re a mess!” cried Trucy. “No way you can go to Scotland Yard looking like that!”

“Not to sound rude,” Hershel spoke up as Edgeworth shook the child off his arm, “but I agree. Mr Edgeworth, I insist that you accompany myself, Luke and the Wrights to my home so that we can all get ourselves cleaned up.”

He smiled as he adjusted his hat.

“A good gentleman always looks presentable, after all.”

Edgeworth rolled his eyes with a sigh of resignation.

“I packed so many clothes I ended up not wearing…” Luke said sadly.

Hershel couldn’t help but laugh.

“A good gentleman should also make sure he’s well prepared, Luke,” he told the boy. “No need to punish yourself.”

“So you’ve got a car?” Phoenix asked, so hopefully that it almost made Hershel laugh again.

“It isn’t the largest automobile in the British Isles,” he told the group, “but it can seat five if we arrange ourselves carefully-”

“Shotgun,” Edgeworth piped up.

“Jerk!” spat Phoenix.

“We both know I’m not the fatherly type, Wright,” Edgeworth said, frowning as he crossed his arms. “You can sit in the back seat with the children.”

“Wh- I’m not a child!” Luke objected. “I’m fifteen!”

“I’m sorry to say,” said Hershel before the argument could go too far, “but I believe it’s an arrangement that makes sense.”

Edgeworth contributed the smuggest smile Hershel had ever seen.

“Yeah,” said Trucy, “I don’t think Uncle Miles would like being squished. Right?”

“Precisely,” Edgeworth replied.

Phoenix just groaned, no doubt at the realisation that the one to be squished was, in fact, going to be him. Hershel almost felt bad for smiling.

Almost.

“Well then,” he said, raising his finger in a leader-like fashion, “to the Laytonmobile!”

With how tiring the past few days had been, it only made sense to make this time together a bit more… leisurely than it had been before.

So how did Hershel choose to return himself and his travelling companions to his home? Via the scenic route, of course, showing the visitors to his homeland all the sights of the capital that they may not have been able to witness prior to boarding the 7:15 to Aberdeen.

Not only that, but it turned out that Luke may have missed his calling as a tour guide. As Phoenix and Trucy marvelled at Tower Bridge while they crossed it, the eager boy was delighted to inform them that the structure had been built in the late 1800s, not in the 16^th or 17^th century as Phoenix claimed to have assumed from its architectural style.

Incorrect, Luke had stated, although it was an understandable mistake to make given the bridge’s appearance.

He was just as happy to educate them on the clock that towered over the Thames, which Trucy cooed at in delight as they drove past. Big Ben was what the bell inside was called, Luke told her, not the tower itself, and he hinted at an investigation he had shared with the Professor which had resulted in their restoration of the grand old clock’s sound.

Leaning against the window in the front seat, Edgeworth glanced over his shoulder and scoffed at the pair's relentless admiration of the city, although Hershel couldn’t help but note a subtle little smile on his face as he did so.

And then, as they continued through London, the script was suddenly flipped. Luke had become the one who was marvelling at the city, except his fancy was taken by the towering glass monstrosities of architecture that dominated the skyline. Upon that eventuality, Hershel took up the role of impromptu tour guide, telling his apprentice about the “modern” buildings that had been constructed following what had been dubbed the Future London Incident.

Needless to say, the British public had already conjured whimsical little nicknames for many of these structures. One tower, in the shape of a strange, elongated dome, had been dubbed the Gherkin, and another oddly curved yet boxy building had been named the Walkie-Talkie.

And needless to say, Phoenix and Trucy – as well as Edgeworth, to Hershel’s surprise – were horrified to learn that the Walkie-Talkie had already undergone something of a makeover after its shape focused sunlight on places across the street from it. It had created such intense heat, Hershel was happy to report, that it had melted cars, ignited carpets and one gutsy individual had gone so far as to fry an egg right there on the pavement.

She had then found herself in trouble with the police for littering, but Hershel decided they didn’t need to know that. London’s mismatched building designs were fascinating enough without the knowledge that they may have caused an arrest.

The happy chatter was only just beginning to die down as they turned onto Hershel’s street, with Trucy remarking in wonder at the pretty little row of terrace houses, before they drew up outside the petunia-lined three-bedroom structure that Hershel called his home. It wasn’t much, he admitted as they disembarked the vehicle, but it wasn’t far from his workplace and it was comfortable, so it suited his needs well enough.

There sadly wasn’t suitable time for a full tour of the building, but Hershel found unrivalled satisfaction simply by hanging his coat on the hook beside the front door.

It was so, so good to be home.

The very moment he showed his guests where the bathroom was, Edgeworth swept inside and slammed the door in their faces, soon followed by the unmistakable sound of the bath being filled.

Typical Edgeworth, Phoenix remarked. Putting his own cleanliness over the possibility that others might need to use the bathroom.

Hershel unfortunately had to agree as he looked down at his forearm, regretting that he kept quite an amount of his first aid equipment in a room now occupied by an angry prosecutor. Thank goodness he had been sensible enough to keep a first aid kit in his kitchen.

Not that he got a chance to use it. Phoenix had interjected to wipe down his arm with alcohol and bandage his wounds before he even had a chance to open the box.

Hershel couldn’t complain.

It was nice to have someone taking care of him, rather than the usual situation he found himself in.

Once they were sure he wasn’t going to catch an infection, he and Phoenix returned upstairs, and Hershel knocked on the bathroom door as politely as he could.

“Are you quite well, Mr Edgeworth?” he called.

From the other side, he heard the soft sound of splashing water.

“Agh, this is wonderful,” Edgeworth replied. “I’m finding it difficult not to fall asleep!”

Phoenix snorted into his hand, almost dropping the suitcase he was carrying.

“Well, do try to stay conscious, won’t you?” Hershel told his guest. “The Yard shan’t look kindly upon either of us if you oversleep or drown in my bathtub.”

“Edgeworth, I got your suitcase!” Phoenix added. “I’ll leave it outside the bathroom door for you, got it? You can just pull your spare clothes out whenever.”

“Thank you, Wright,” Edgeworth replied. “Much appreciated!”

“No prob!” called Phoenix, and he rested the suitcase on the floor beside the door.

As he and Hershel turned to walk away, a thought occurred to the Professor which he realised he felt far more comfortable speaking about now that they were no longer stranded in the Cairngorms.

“I get the sense,” he said to Phoenix as they mounted the stairs, “that you and Mr Edgeworth have known each other for far more time than you’ve shared in the courtroom.”

“Yeah, we first became friends as kids,” Phoenix explained with a shrug. “Lost touch after his dad died and he moved away, got pretty strained when we met again on opposite sides of a courtroom, but it’s safe to say we’re friends by now.”

He scoffed again as they reached the bottom of the stairs.

“He’d probably tell you the same thing,” he said, “only you’d have to drag it out of him kicking and screaming.”

He pulled his hat off and ran his hand through his hair.

“I only ask,” said Hershel, reminding himself that a gentleman didn’t stare, “because the two of you appear to speak to one-another rather coldly. Mr Edgeworth in particular behaves as though he doesn’t like you very much.”

Phoenix frowned at his fingers, rubbing them together, apparently dissatisfied by how his hair felt.

“Nah, I’m fairly sure he does,” he replied. “He’s just…”

He stuffed the beanie into his pocket.

“He’s smug, alright?” he said. “He said it himself back in Fatargan; he’s a prideful fool.” He gave Hershel a small smirk. “And I’m a sad clown. He needs someone to knock him off his high horse just like I need someone to remind me life is worth living.”

Hershel couldn’t hold back a frown.

His mind flew back to that dreadful night when they’d laid Edgeworth out on the sofa in front of the fireplace. When he’d found Phoenix standing outside, staring into the snow, calmly contemplating the possibility of ending his life.

He’d tried so, so hard to reassure this man that his life had value, yet it seemed as though it hadn’t been enough.

“What’s wrong?”

Oh dear, and now Phoenix had noticed his disappointment.

Perhaps it would be best to be honest…

“It’s saddening to hear you speak about yourself like that,” he explained. “I would have thought that our time in Scotland would have been enough to make you realise-”

Phoenix cut him off with a sigh.

“It’s hard, alright?” he said, running his hand through his hair again and trying to push it out of his face. “I can’t just get told it’ll be okay once and go on believing it forever. I’ll probably have to keep telling myself for the rest of my life.”

Hershel’s mind went back again.

Back to the night he had watched the love of his life walk away and round the corner, her body glimmering with a soft golden light, knowing that he was never going to see her again, and how little all of the well-wishes and condolences from his friends had done to lift the paralysing weight of grief from his body…

He swallowed.

“I understand,” he said.

“You do?” Phoenix stared at him in astonishment.

Hershel removed his hat and cradled it in his hands.

“I can’t say it’s something I’m comfortable discussing,” he replied, “especially standing in a hallway, but trust me.”

He hugged it gently to his chest.

“I understand how you feel, Phoenix.”

Phoenix’s line of sight fell downwards. He seemed to be deep in thought all of a sudden.

For the first time, Hershel noticed that his eyes were two different colours. Each iris was split in half across the middle. Brown on the top, blue on the bottom. It was rather a bizarre sight, but nonetheless fascinating.

“Is it bad that I take that as a relief?”

Phoenix’s question shook Hershel back to his senses. A gentleman doesn’t stare, he had to remind himself.

“Not at all!” he replied, perhaps a little more quickly than he had hoped. “Not at all, my friend. I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t believe it would help you feel better.”

“Good,” said Phoenix, “because it worked. Thank you.”

He gave Hershel a bashful little smile, and the Professor tried not to stare again as those multicolour eyes lit up.

How had he never paid close enough attention to Phoenix’s smile before? Was it just because he hadn’t seen a genuine smile from the man in so long? But what a sight to behold…

…what on earth was he thinking? Where did that come from?!

“You’re very welcome,” Hershel said, quickly turning away and putting his hat back on as his face started to grow warm. “Come along. Let me show you my office.”

He led Phoenix through his hallway to the room that sat beside his kitchen. It was true that he didn’t use his home office very much anymore, since Dr Schrader’s retirement had provided him with a comfortable workplace at the university, but it still suited his purposes whenever he had assignments to grade or artifacts that needed a place to stay between museums.

As a result, a brief flash of panic sparked in his body when he heard voices from the other side of the door, but his heart calmed when he recognised those voices as the two youngest of their travelling companions.

He opened the door for Phoenix, just as a gentleman should, right on time to see Luke gently holding a piece of sparkling multicolour stone for Trucy to admire.

“-an opalized fossil!” he heard the boy say. “See? It’s a scorpion tail, but it’s turned into opal!”

“Whoa, that’s so cool!” Trucy bounced on her heels. “I didn’t even know fossils could turn into gemstones! How does that work?”

And then she noticed the two adults standing in the doorway.

“Uncle Hershel!” she cried. “Uncle Hershel, how does it work?!”

Hershel laughed quietly to himself as he closed the door behind them.

“I see my apprentice is showing you what my office has to offer,” he commented. “My expedition logs are in my desk drawers, in case you were wondering.”

“Whoa,” Phoenix said as they walked further into the room. “This is… messy.”

It was hard not to laugh again at such a flippant remark.

“Yes, I’m afraid my housekeeper is still on holiday in Spain with her family,” Hershel told him, and he led Phoenix over to the sofa that Luke and Trucy were sitting beside (on the floor, for some indiscernible reason). “I am trying to keep tidy, especially since I don’t have Luke around to clean up for me anymore, but I’m afraid it’s quite easy for the mess to get on top of me.”

Phoenix snorted into his hand again.

“Don’t worry,” he said as he sat down. “I’m the same.”

“He is!” Trucy piped up. “But Uncle Hershel, how is this possible? How can a fossil turn into opal? Tell me!”

“Well-”

“TELL ME!”

“Trucy, not so loud!” Luke warned. “We don’t want the neighbours to complain!”

Hershel took the opportunity to sit down beside Phoenix.

“It’s a very rare phenomenon, young Trucy,” he happily explained. “You see, a fossil is formed when organic matter decays and leaves a void behind. Luke, could you bring me that fern on the top shelf over there?”

“I’m on it, Professor!” Luke obediently leapt to his feet. “Good thing I’m finally tall enough to reach!”

Phoenix sniggered to himself.

“Yeah, no kidding,” he said. “Last time I saw you, you were about, uh…”

He held out his hand at about the same height as his waist.

“…that high?” he asked. “You were tiny!”

“Tinier than me?” Trucy giggled.

“What can I say?” Luke shrugged once he had retrieved the required rock. “I’ve always been small for my age. Here you go.”

“Thank you,” Hershel replied, taking the chunk of stone, and turning it so that Trucy could see the hollows in its side. “Do you see this, Trucy?”

Trucy gasped in delight.

“Look at all those leaves!” she said happily.

“I suspect this fern to have been buried over time,” Hershel told her as Luke joined her in admiring it, and Phoenix leaned in dangerously close so that he could get a look. “The soil that covered it eventually turned into stone, but the leaves trapped within it rotted away, leaving this gap inside. You can feel free to touch it, so long as you’re gentle.”

He had barely even finished that sentence before Trucy was tugging her glove off.

“That’s so cool!” she whispered, awestruck as she traced her fingertips over the tiny indentations.

“Can I feel it?” asked Phoenix.

Hershel turned the fossil in his direction, and Phoenix traced his fingers down the length of the stem.

“It’s so smooth,” he muttered in wonder.

“However,” said Hershel, passing the fossil to Luke so that he could put it back, “another thing you’ll occasionally find is that particles of silicate get washed into those gaps by water. They’ll clump together, usually over millions and millions of years, and they form into opal, just as Luke was showing you.”

“Fern fossils like these are actually rather common,” Luke added as he returned to the table. “Right, Professor?”

“Indeed they are, my boy,” Hershel said as his apprentice picked up the opal fossil again. “Ammonite and trilobite fossils follow close behind in how frequently they get stumbled upon.”

He adjusted his hat so that it didn’t slip down over his eyes.

“Opal fossils, by contrast, are exceedingly uncommon,” he explained, crossing his legs and settling back into his sofa. “Their rarity is matched only by their beauty.”

Luke froze as though fossilised on the spot.

“Wow,” he said softly. “I’d better be careful with this.”

“Yes, I’d be rather grateful if you could put it back,” Hershel commented.

His apprentice looked as though he was moving in slow motion as he reached for the plush velvet bag that the fossil belonged in.

“Not like there aren’t plenty of other awesome things to look at,” Phoenix said, looking around the room as Luke returned the little bag to where it belonged. “Man, my office sucks by comparison.”

“That settles it!” Trucy thrust a declarative finger into the air. “As soon as we get back to LA, I’m stuffing our office with every last prop I can find! We’ll get more wands and a spare hat and I’ll get one of those cabinets to put people in for cutting them up! Ooh! Ooh! And magic spaghetti!”

“Hey, slow down!” Phoenix defensively raised his hands. “I’ll get as much as we can afford, okay?”

“Then I’ll work extra hard!” Trucy added. “I’ll perform at five other bars! Don’t worry, Daddy! I’ll get us as much money as I can!”

“But…” Phoenix rolled his eyes and sighed, defeated in the face of his darling daughter’s determination.

Hershel took the opportunity to admire his office. The idols on the shelf above his desk, a trophy he’d received six Octobers ago for Academic of the Year (which he hadn’t even known as a real award until then), his travel teapot still perched atop a camping stove he’d meant to put away last month, his shelves of beautiful rock specimens…

“I will admit,” he had to say, “that this office pales in comparison to the one I use at the university.”

“I agree,” Luke said as he sat back down at the table. “That one’s much better organised!”

The comment left Hershel so surprised that he couldn’t help but laugh, and he heard Phoenix snickering right beside him.

How wonderful it was to finally be at home, and finally feel able to relax…

He almost felt as though he never wanted this moment to end.

“Whoa!” he heard Trucy shout. “Is that a geode?!”

Hershel followed her line of sight to his desk, where there sat a cracked open chunk of rock with an interior lined with studs of bright orange topaz.

“Yes, it is,” he said. “I have several geodes I expect you’d enjoy. As a matter of fact, I use a geode to store some of my geodes.”

“Are you serious?” demanded Phoenix. “What kind of money-burner are you?”

“Hang on, I’ll get that one too!” Luke jumped back up to his feet.

“None of them are purchases, Phoenix,” Hershel assured his friend. “They’re simply a by-product of my expeditions. When you set out searching for stones, you’re bound to find many that aren’t what you’re looking for, but are fascinating nonetheless.”

“Here, I got it!”

Luke fell to his knees in front of the table and gently positioned the bowling ball-sized stone within Hershel’s reach.

“Huh.” Phoenix leaned in close to it, squinting at its smooth beige surface. “Just looks like an ordinary rock.”

“But this rock,” Hershel said, uncrossing his legs so that he could lean close too, “has a pretty little secret.”

He picked up the top of the geode and rested it, inside-up, on the table.

“Whoa!” Phoenix and Trucy both gasped at the same time.

“The geode itself is one of amethyst,” Hershel explained, and he lifted the pot-like rock into his lap. “The purple crystals are extremely distinctive. These slices, however…” He took one out and held it up for the trio to see. “…are of agate. Have a look at this.”

He passed the green and grey stone into Phoenix’s fingers.

“I’ve been told that it’s called moss agate,” he said.

Phoenix held the stone up to the light. It had been sliced so thinly that the light shone through it, casting a green glow across his eyes and making the colour even more indecipherable.

“Cool!” Trucy gasped. “It looks like it has stems in it!”

The smiling Hershel reached into the geode again.

“This one is fire agate,” he said, holding up a polished disc of vibrant shades of red and orange. “I’m sure you can understand why it’s called that.”

Trucy grinned in delight as she accepted the stone, and she ran her fingers over its craggy edge.

“This one,” Hershel went on, taking out a third cut of colourful rock, “is known as holly blue agate.”

It was a stone as vibrant as the sea on a tropical shore, and Luke’s eyes practically popped out of his head as he accepted it.

“Blimey!” he muttered, whipping off his cap to compare the colour. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a rock this bright before!”

“And this one,” Hershel said as he took out one of his favourite slices, “has a particularly fun name. Can you guess what it is?”

He turned it around in his fingers so that they could see all the colours, all the streaks, all the blotches and ripples in the rock that looked like an artist had taken all the liberties they could with a full palette of watercolours.

“Um…” Luke fidgeted with the holly blue he was still holding. “I forgot.”

“Spotty?” Trucy suggested. “Ripple?”

“Funky?” offered Phoenix.

All good suggestions, Hershel considered, but he had a feeling the truth would be equally as entertaining.

“Crazy lace,” he stated.

Trucy giggled.

“Wow,” muttered Phoenix, “that is fun.”

He rested the cut of moss agate on the table beside its container.

“Hershel, I’m surprised you’re even into this stuff,” he commented. “Aren’t archaeologists more about the people and living side of things? You know, Roman towns and Stone Age axes and jewellery and stuff.”

He took another slice out of the geode and held it up to the light.

“It’s true that gemstones such as these aren’t the focus of my study,” Hershel said, “but collecting them remains a fascinating hobby nonetheless.”

“And here I thought you were all about puzzles!” Luke joked, and he slotted the holly blue and moss slices back into the geode beside a jet-black cut of onyx agate.

“Well, of course I am,” said Hershel as Trucy put her fire agate back, “but a man can have multiple hobbies, can he not?”

“Yeah!” Phoenix agreed. “Besides, as rocks go, these are some pretty cool rocks. What’s this one called?”

“That one is iris agate,” Hershel told him as the iridescent stone shimmered in the faint sunlight. “I’m sure you can see why it would be called that.”

Phoenix lowered the stone, letting Hershel get a better look at the side he’d been admiring. The light reflected off it almost like the opal Luke had been showing to Trucy.

“…it’s pretty…” Phoenix said softly.

“Can I borrow one for a magic trick?” asked Trucy.

“That’s a nice thought,” Hershel said as he took the iris agate back, “but I’m afraid I’m rather attached to my collection.”

He slotted the stone back into the geode, which Luke obediently closed without Hershel even needing to ask him to.

“If I ever come across an agate of a type I already possess,” he said as Luke picked up the geode, “I’ll be sure to send you a slice.”

“That works!” Trucy said cheerfully as Luke put the geode back in its place beside a large labradorite cabochon. “Thank you, Uncle Hershel!”

“Oooh, Professor!” Luke said as he turned back from the shelf. “Are you going to tell Mr Wright and Trucy about the jewellery you’ve found on your digs?”

“I’d be happy to if they were interested,” Hershel replied.

But before he could make a start on that, another thought crept into his head, and he looked up at the ceiling.

“Right now, however,” he said, “I must say I’m a little concerned about Mr Edgeworth. He’s been upstairs for rather a while now.”

Phoenix looked up as well.

“Yeah, he’d better get out of there soon,” he said, running a hand through his hair again. “I really need to shower!”

Hershel stood up and straightened out his jacket.

“Luke,” he said as Phoenix got up too, “why don’t you keep showing Trucy some of the artifacts I’ve collected during my career? Phoenix and I are going to go upstairs and make sure nothing’s happened to Mr Edgeworth.”

“Sure thing, Professor!” Luke replied happily.

He ran over to the chest of drawers that was set under Hershel’s shelves of pretty rocks and tugged open the lowest drawer as Hershel opened the door for Phoenix.

“Trucy,” the teen said, “come over here and look at this.”

Trucy gasped in amazement.

“Is that real gold?!” was the last thing Hershel heard her squeak before he closed the door.

Phoenix cast one more smile over his shoulder before trying to smooth back his hair yet again.

“Do you really need me to come with you?” he asked. “Edgeworth won’t bite. I mean, he’ll bark a lot, but…”

“I know,” said Hershel as they approached the stairs, “but seeing as the two of you are more acquainted than I am with him, I believe him to be more likely to listen to you.”

Phoenix shrugged.

“That’s fair,” he decided.

They jogged up the stairs to the bathroom, Hershel holding onto his hat so that it didn’t bounce off his head, and Phoenix knocked on the door as soon as they reached it.

“Edgeworth!” he called. “You okay in there?”

“Is there any reason I shouldn’t be?” was Edgeworth’s echoed reply.

Hershel breathed a sigh of relief.

“He’s fine,” Phoenix reported, and then he turned back to the door. “You’ve been in there long enough and I need to shower! Think you could come out and let me use the bathroom?”

“Ten more minutes, Wright!”

Phoenix rolled his eyes and cast a glare of annoyance in Hershel’s direction.

Hershel cradled his chin. How could they go about convincing Edgeworth to vacate the bathroom? It wouldn’t be in the least bit polite to just ask him to come out, like Phoenix just had (not politely in the slightest, Hershel had to admit) but it would be a bad idea to wait for him. Scotland Yard couldn’t be kept waiting forever, after all.

But with everything he had been through over the past few weeks, Edgeworth had earned himself a long, hot bath, and Hershel was all too happy to allow him that liberty-

-but before he got a chance to decide what to do, Phoenix opened the door and stepped into the bathroom.

“H- what the hell do you think you’re doing, Wright?!” Edgeworth could be heard shouting. “Get out! Get- What’re you- Don’t you dare- Get your hand out of that water! What-?!”

There was a loud plop.

After that came the distinct sound of trickling water, to which Hershel could only stand and listen in numb silence.

“Oh, you petty bastard,” Edgeworth growled.

As the trickling became the gurgle of an emptying bath, Phoenix stepped out of the room and presented Hershel with the plug.

Hershel slowly reached up and took it from him.

That done, Phoenix spun on his heel and made for the spare bedroom he had claimed upon arrival.

Hershel could only stand in place, watching his retreating form.

If he didn’t know any better, he would have said he was impressed.

“You don’t take sugar, do you?” Hershel asked as he picked up the teapot.

“No thank you,” Edgeworth replied, rubbing the back of his neck with his towel as he made himself comfortable at the table. “Ye gods, I’ve never felt so clean.”

“The southern air becomes you, Mr Edgeworth,” Hershel said happily as he poured the tea. “You look a good deal better than you did when we found you on that mountain.”

“I should think so!” Edgeworth snapped indignantly. “And I hope I never end up in such a sorry state again! I simply do not have the patience for it.”

Hershel rested the teapot down as his guest reached for the milk pitcher.

“Or the constitution,” he commented as he set a plate of biscuits in the middle of the table, “judging by how you collapsed up there.”

“Do be fair, Professor,” Edgeworth said once he had milked his tea. “I’m from a city on the southern coast of Japanifornia. Of course I wouldn’t be accustomed to the blistering cold of northern Scottish winter.”

He picked up his teacup and stirred the swirls away.

“I can’t even recall the last time I was far north enough to see the Aurora Borealis!” he pointed out.

Hershel’s smile faded as he sat down at the table.

“My apologies, Mr Edgeworth,” he said as he poured himself a cup. “No offence was intended.”

Edgeworth picked up his teacup.

“Apology accepted,” he said flatly.

He took a long, indulgent sip from his tea, and lowered the cup with a sigh of contentment.

“Ah, very nice,” he breathed. “Nothing compares to a truly satisfying cup of tea.”

“No, it certainly doesn’t,” Hershel agreed, stirring his own cupful. “Even in the worst of circumstances, a good cuppa can easily clear the mind and soothe the soul. There really isn’t anything quite like it.”

Edgeworth scoffed into his tea.

“I know a blind man who’d disagree with you on that,” he said.

Hershel hesitated, his cup halfway to his mouth.

“A blind man, you say?” he asked.

“It’s a long story,” Edgeworth told him. “Wright could tell you more about it than I ever could.”

Ah, excellent. Another excuse to spend more time talking to Phoenix, Hershel thought to himself as he downed a mouthful of his tea.

Edgeworth was correct in that regard. The taste, the heat, the smell… so soothing.

And this was only English Breakfast…

He found himself eyeing Edgeworth as he lowered his cup. His neatly combed hair was still damp from his bath, his blouse was buttoned right up to his chin, and he had adjusted the towel around his neck as if to replicate his beloved cravat. Hershel couldn’t remember the last time he had seen anybody so determined to upkeep their personal aesthetic.

Aside from himself, of course.

Hershel pondered this as he ran a finger over his teacup’s handle.

“Might I ask, Mr Edgeworth,” he said, “how the pair of you came to be so close as to throw constant jabs in one-another’s direction?”

Edgeworth tapped his fingertip on the side of his cup, frowning into the light brown liquid.

“If you wish me to be honest,” he said, “were I of a more sound mind, I would never have associated myself with simple-minded, over-emotional fools that I somehow nonetheless find myself surrounded by on a near-daily basis. They seem to gravitate towards me like moths to a flame and…”

He glanced at the ceiling as if expecting to see Phoenix through it.

“…try as I may,” he went on, “Wright is the most stubborn of all the moths to have ever come along to bother me.”

He took another long, loving sip from his tea.

“However,” he said, “he’s an honest and loyal soul, which I cannot help but respect. There’s nothing that disgusts me quite like a person who only sees others as tools to be used and discarded, and Wright and I just happen to be two peas in a pod when it comes to that belief.”

His frown of disgust was more than enough to convey his honesty.

Hershel couldn’t help but agree. The sensation of dehumanisation that came from discovering that he had been nothing more than a pawn in someone else’s twisted and bizarre chess game… it was unpleasant, to say the least, and something he wouldn’t wish on his worst enemy.

“He tells me that you first met as children,” he recalled. “Is that correct?”

Edgeworth sighed and slumped in his chair.

“I hope he didn’t tell you we were the best of friends all through school,” he said bitterly. “I only knew him for around a year before…”

His sideways glance was probably more obvious than he had hoped.

“…certain circumstances forced us apart,” he settled upon. “And in all the time before then and our next meeting, almost fifteen years later, I barely even spared a thought for the man. Yet somehow, we always seem to find ourselves standing up for one-another. Dragging each other out of whatever dreadful situation we’ve managed to find ourselves in.”

He sipped on his tea again.

“Has he told you about the night he fell off a bridge into a raging river?”

“I beg your pardon?” Hershel spluttered. “No, he absolutely did not!”

“And guess who got called to act as a defence attorney in his stead?” Edgeworth said bitterly. “In spite of the fact that I’m a prosecutor and had to fly across the entire country to find out what in the world was going on. Again, I’ll leave him to fill you in on all the gory details.”

He threw his head back and finished off his tea.

“Phoenix Wright,” he said, “is simultaneously the luckiest and unluckiest man I have ever met, Mr Layton. Do you not agree that to be fascinating?”

Hershel finished his own tea with one last mouthful, and ran his finger over the cup’s handle again as he thought.

Phoenix’s life was interesting, from an outside perspective at least. He had lost his job, but gained a wonderful daughter. He didn’t have the courage to play the violin in front of others, but when he did play, the music he produced was heavenly. His own mind had turned against him, yet he still found the courage to be kind and upbeat and considerate in a notably fatherly manner.

He was perhaps one of the most admirable people to have ever fallen into Hershel’s life.

How could that not be fascinating?

“I do,” he said when he realised he’d sat in silence for perhaps too long. “It seems the two of you have quite an extraordinary bond.”

“Oh, don’t start,” Edgeworth groaned.

“Hm?” Hershel hesitated with his hand halfway to the teapot. “Don’t start what?”

“That,” Edgeworth spat. “Speculating on our relationship like all the tabloids back at home do. We’re friends, Mr Layton, and will never be anything more.”

He snatched up a jammy dodger from the platter as if to punctuate his point.

“It’s true that the only straight thing about me is my hair,” he said, “but I do not and will not EVER have any romantic feelings for Wright. Not that it’s anything personal, but I simply have no interest in men who are shorter than me.”

He took an angry bite from his biscuit.

“M-my apologies, Mr Edgeworth,” Hershel responded. “I only meant to say that I admire how close the two of you are as friends. I didn’t mean to imply-”

“Think nothing of it, Mr Layton,” said Edgeworth. “I’m simply sick of people assuming Wright and I are in a relationship, so I thought I ought to make it as clear as possible that we’re not.”

Hershel sighed in relief.

“…thank goodness.”

“I beg your pardon?” asked Edgeworth.

Hershel swallowed. Where on earth had that come from?

“O-oh, it’s nothing,” he lied. “Would you like another cup of tea?”

“Absolutely,” Edgeworth replied.

“Think you could pour me a cup?”

Hershel didn’t even bother looking up from his teapot.

“Ah, Phoenix!” he said happily. “Of course, you’re just in time.”

“Wright, you are in no position to criticise me for spending so much time in the bath,” Edgeworth pointed out. “What took you so long?”

“Hey, it’s been like, a week!” Phoenix argued back as Hershel poured two fresh cups of tea. “I wanted to make sure I was clean! And uh, Hershel, I kind of used your razor. Is that okay? We’re headed to Scotland Yard, so I wanted to at least try not to look like I slept in a dumpster.”

“Oh yes, that’s perfectly fine,” Hershel replied, setting down a third cup. “It was a gift from a student who wished to look upon them favourably,” he went on as he filled it, “but I’ve never put it to use. I’m afraid I simply don’t seem to have any-”

He made the mistake of glancing up at Phoenix as he spoke.

“…need.”

His wet hair had been roughly brushed back in a thick black swathe, stray locks falling haphazardly about his face and framing his cheekbones and bi-coloured eyes, his clean-shaven cheeks seemed to have cut a decade off his age and put the arrow-straight edge of his jaw on full display…

Hershel didn’t even realise he was still pouring the tea until he felt Edgeworth lifting the pot to keep the cup from overflowing.

And he did so with a coy little smirk that brought a flush of blistering heat to Hershel’s cheeks.

“You look much better, Wright,” he said once he was done with that.

“I could say the same for you,” Phoenix replied, sitting down at the table as Hershel set the teapot down. “Man, you look different without your neckerchief!”

“I’ve told you before,” Edgeworth tutted, “it’s a cravat!”

“I believe they all fall under the banner of ‘ascot’, Mr Edgeworth,” Hershel pointed out as he milked his tea.

Edgeworth sighed and slapped his forehead.

“Let’s not start this now, can we?” he asked.

“Okay, okay, I was kidding!” Phoenix said desperately. “I hope you guys weren’t like this for the entire time I was showering!”

“Not at all, Phoenix,” Hershel said as he passed the milk pitcher. “Mr Edgeworth and I were getting along rather well.”

He mixed the milk into his tea and took a happy sip.

“Although,” he added, “I worry that we may run into some trouble in that regard once we arrive at the Yard.”

“Oh?” Edgeworth eyed him in curiosity. “And why would that be?”

“I may have to stay out of view,” Hershel explained. “There are certain persons at the Yard who believe me to be, ah, stealing their thunder, as it were. I’m never supposed to be more than a consultant on their cases, yet my name repeatedly makes the front page of the London Times. As you can imagine, while my public popularity may climb, my police popularity only continues to plummet.”

“Oof.” Phoenix cringed as he reached for the biscuits.

“Yes, I can understand why they’d harbour a certain dislike of you,” said Edgeworth. “I’d suggest waiting outside, but in the dead of winter…”

“No need to worry, Mr Edgeworth,” Hershel replied. “I’m sure I can avoid trouble so long as we’re in and out relatively quickly.”

“Once we do get there,” Edgeworth spoke up, “you needn’t fret about me anymore. My associates in the police force provided me with lodgings before I left for Fatargan and I’m positive they’d be willing to do it again.”

“Phew, that’s a relief,” Phoenix sighed. “I was worried we’d end up sharing a bed!”

Edgeworth’s response was a dramatic shudder of horror and disgust.

“You’re more than welcome to stay with me, Phoenix,” Hershel told his friend. “Trucy as well. We’ll have to return Luke to his parents before they get too worried, so there’ll be plenty of room for both of you.”

“Wow, really?” asked Phoenix. “I thought we were just using your spare rooms to store our luggage!”

“Impressive, Wright,” Edgeworth said with a smile. “Lodging with the great Professor Layton. Do try to stay out of trouble this time, won’t you? The last thing I need is to be called in the middle of the night to help you again.”

“Edgeworth,” said Phoenix, “considering what happened in that village, I think it’s safe to say we’re even.”

Hershel was sipping on his tea as he felt the attention in the room turn in his direction.

“Mr Layton?” said Edgeworth. “You’re the puzzle master. What do you think?”

Hershel lowered his cup, rubbing the handle again as he mulled the circumstances over.

“I would hardly call myself an expert on the lives you two have led,” he admitted, “but given what I’ve heard so far…”

Favours and life debts and friendship… it was difficult to add up, but the conclusion wasn’t terribly difficult to reach.

“I believe the favours owed by Mr Edgeworth to Phoenix far outweigh the opposite,” he concluded.

“Ha!” Phoenix shouted in joy. “Nice one, Hershel!”

“…fantastic,” Edgeworth grumbled, and took another sip of his tea.

Phoenix ignored the cold breeze that washed over his freshly shaved cheeks and nudged Edgeworth in the elbow.

“You nervous?” he asked.

“Nervous, Wright?” Edgeworth responded. “Why would I be nervous?”

“Seriously?” Phoenix had to force himself not to stare, as he knew he’d just walk into a lamppost. “These people assumed you were dead! You’ve been gone for a month!”

“Mr Wright,” Luke spoke up as they approached the stately building, “if anyone should be nervous, it’s you. I’m not sure if that hat’s going to win you any favours.”

The mere implication was enough to make Phoenix’s blood boil.

“Truce made this hat for me,” he snapped. “I’m not taking it off.”

“Daddy, it’s okay!” Trucy piped up. “You want to look smart, right? I’m not wearing a hat, so you can do it too!”

Even in spite of her reassurance, Phoenix still felt as though it would be a crime to take it off. He adjusted its brim, just as he’d seen Hershel do time and again, but couldn’t bring himself to pull it away from his forehead.

But at the same time…

“…if you’re sure…” he said hesitantly.

“As for me,” Hershel said beside him, “I’d very much prefer to keep mine on, if that’s all the same to you.”

“Same here,” said Luke, and although he couldn’t see him, Phoenix was sure he was adjusting his cap in a very Laytonesque manner.

“So it’s just my hat that’s the problem?!” Phoenix demanded indignantly.

Trucy hummed in thought as they all came to a stop outside the Yard’s front door.

“I mean,” she said, “I did make sure it would be super bright and eye-catching.”

“It’d be better for all of us if you took it off, Wright,” said Edgeworth. “Come on. Do yourself a favour.”

Well, there was obviously no point in arguing against it.

“Fine,” Phoenix spat, and he snatched the hat off his head. “There you go. Better?”

He stuffed it into his pocket and tried to brush his hair back with his other hand.

“Much better,” he heard Hershel say, although Phoenix felt the familiar and ungentlemanly sensation of being stared at. “Now then, we won’t do ourselves any favours if we just stand around loitering all afternoon.”

He stepped up to the front door and held it open, and Phoenix took Trucy’s hand as he led the way up the steps and into the world-famous Scotland Yard.

He didn’t know what he had expected, but the room they had entered was bathed in golden light from bulbs hanging overhead. The walls now surrounding them were a deep red brick that managed to feel cozy rather than cold and a cushioned green bench sat invitingly to one side under a large pinboard, although its implied comfort was negated by the fact that it sat across the room from the magazine rack.

Beyond the raised barred door that led out of the waiting lobby and into the rest of the building, Phoenix could see a number of officers milling around, chatting, sipping coffee, exchanging documents, some in the traditional bell-shaped helmets and others in the more modern pie-shaped caps. His curiosity told him he should walk straight past them, through the two doorways he could see and up the stairs, or perhaps down the hallway in either direction, but the knowledge that he would immediately be arrested for trespassing stopped him in his tracks.

Not only that, but with how warm he felt all of a sudden, he got the sense that such exploration would leave him too exhausted to even make it back to the car.

“Whoa,” he heard Trucy sigh. “It’s a lot cosier in here than I’d imagined!”

“Warmer, too,” Phoenix agreed, and he unzipped his hoodie to his chest as Hershel walked past them to the nearby reception desk. “Jeez, it’s like an oven in here!”

“Compared to outside, at least,” added Luke, and he clutched his coat and shivered. “I’m still cold from the wind outside!”

Edgeworth seemed to agree as he blew out a breath of relief, and he pulled his blazer off to drape over his arm. Phoenix suppressed the remark he wanted to make about how it made him look like a waiter at a 1700s themed restaurant.

“Excuse me, miss,” Hershel said the barred-off receptionist. “Can you please notify Inspector Chelmey that Mr Miles Edgeworth has arrived at the Yard?”

“Certainly, sir,” the receptionist replied. “I’ll have him down immediately.”

“Oh, don’t worry about bringing him down here,” Edgeworth said casually. “Just notifying him of my arrival is enough.”

“Very well, sir,” the receptionist said simply before she ducked out of view.

Edgeworth, meanwhile, just tugged on the spare cravat he’d insisted on wearing. No doubt his bizarrely specific fashion choices were harshly conflicting with the Yard’s heating system.

“Annoying as this is,” he said, “it’s easiest to come here in person. Far easier than trying to convince someone over the phone that I truly am who I say I am-”

“MR EDGEWORTH!”

“Huh?!”

Before Edgeworth had any chance to react, an immense blur of dirty green bowled through the waiting lobby. Luke jumped back and Trucy yelped as the newcomer swept the startled prosecutor into a massive hug, tearful hug that made him drop his blazer in alarm.

“I’m so glad you’re okay!” he wept. “I thought I was never going to see you again, sir! I thought you were going to be lost in Scotland forever!”

“No- I’m fine- heaven’s sake, put me down!” Edgeworth choked and writhed in the big man’s grip. “Get- stop it! Detective, stop CRYING on me!”

“Good gracious!” Hershel spluttered.

Phoenix could only laugh.

“Same old detective,” he said, mostly to himself.

“You know him?” Luke asked nervously. “Is he always like this?!”

“Only when he gets really worked up,” Trucy replied.

The detective in question somehow found the strength of mind to stop hugging Edgeworth, although not enough that he could avoid tightly clutching him by the shoulders.

“Are you sure you’re okay, sir?” he asked. “You were gone for so long! I was so scared! Everyone said you were dead!”

“Detective-” Edgeworth tried.

“They ARRESTED me for killing you, sir!” And then it was time for another hug, lifting the hapless prosecutor clear off the floor.

“But as you can see, I am very clearly not dead!” Edgeworth shouted. “Although I will be if you don’t stop waterboarding me with your tears! Now pull yourself together and put me down!”

It seemed like that command was finally enough to drive his desperation home, and the still-tearful detective lowered him back down to the floor.

“Sorry, pal,” he said with a snivel. “I was worried about you, you know?”

“Yes,” Edgeworth sighed, “you’ve made that patently clear by now.”

“I’m not kidding by the way!” Gumshoe almost yelled. “They really did arrest me for your murder, sir! If you hadn’t called when you did, they would’ve sent me to trial!”

Edgeworth sighed and rubbed his brow in exasperation. Phoenix, meanwhile, almost laughed again. It never failed to be entertaining to watch the Demon Prosecutor’s façade of superiority and smugness disintegrate before his very eyes.

“Have no fear, Detective,” he said. “I shall make sure to have a word with whatever rambunctious officer was foolish enough to believe you capable of taking a life.”

“Oh dear,” said Hershel, finally finding the courage to speak after Gumshoe’s explosive entry. “I do hope you don’t plan on being too harsh, Mr Edgeworth.”

“I’ll be as harsh as I need to in order to get my point across,” Edgeworth replied bluntly.

And before Phoenix could think of any other way to contribute to the conversation, the detective’s dark eyes turned in his direction.

“Mr Wright?” he said softly, no doubt needing time to process the messy figure in front of him.

Phoenix couldn’t blame him for his hesitation. It was probably a rare occurrence for Gumshoe to see somebody even shabbier than him.

“Hey, Detective,” he managed to say. “Long time no see-”

“THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR BRINGING MR EDGEWORTH BACK!”

And before he had a chance to escape, it was Phoenix’s turn to be crushed to Gumshoe’s chest. Arms pinned to his side and chest screaming in complaint, it was a miracle he was still able to breathe even in the slightest.

“It was…” he wheezed. “…no trouble… ihadsomehelp…”

“Hi, Detective Gumshoe!” And like the angel she was, sweet little Trucy came to his rescue. “Do you remember me?”

Phoenix felt himself being lowered to the floor and he stumbled back, gasping for breath.

“Oh, hey!” he heard Gumshoe say. “You were in that trial that got Mr Wright fired! Lucy, right? Didn’t he adopt you or something?”

“It’s Trucy,” Trucy replied, bouncing on her heels, “but you were close!”

“Yeah, I remember you now!” The detective kneeled down to meet her eye level. “Man, you’re just as tiny and adorable as you were back then!”

“Hey, I’ve gotten at least two centimetres taller!” Trucy objected.

Gumshoe laughed and ruffled her hair.

“Sorry,” he said as she giggled too, “but you still got a long way to go, pal. Just keep at it, alright? You might even end up as tall as me someday!”

“I doubt that,” Edgeworth sighed, rolling his eyes as Gumshoe straightened up to his feet.

“Oh!” And at long last, the detective noticed the very obvious top hat. “Didn’t see you there, pal!” He held out a massive, calloused hand to shake. “Detective Dick Gumshoe, LAPD.”

“Professor Hershel Layton,” said Professor Hershel Layton, accepting that hand for a friendly shake. “Gressenheller University and occasionally Scotland Yard. And this young man is my apprentice, Luke.”

“Luke Triton, sir,” said Luke, settling for a polite salute rather than a bone-breaking handshake. “Pleased to meet you!”

“Pleased to meet you too, pal!” Gumshoe replied cheerfully. “It’s always great seeing young people getting involved in law enforcement! Maybe we’ll run into each other back in Japanifornia someday!”

Luke smiled with a bashful little blush, although Phoenix wouldn’t have been surprised if the poor boy was intimidated by a man as large and jovial as the detective.

“So you’re with the Professor, huh?” asked Gumshoe. “Everyone here’s been saying loads about the great Professor Layton. He’s all they ever talk about!”

“Oh dear,” said Hershel, tugging his hat’s brim down over his eyes. “I do hope what you heard was at least partially flattering.”

“Yeah, most of ‘em,” Gumshoe said with a shrug. “Some of ‘em got pretty bitter about you stealing their thunder, but I figure they’re just jealous. After all, you’ve got a way cooler hat than anyone else in this building!”

Luke laughed again.

“I’m not sure it’s just the hat!” he pointed out.

“But it is a very nice hat,” Phoenix made sure to say.

Hershel adjusted the brim again, casting a sideways glance in Phoenix’s direction.

“Indeed it is, my friend,” he said happily.

“Detective,” Edgeworth spoke up, “if you’re finished here, I do believe we should get going. We’ve put these officers through enough trouble as it is without making them wait for me to prove I’m still alive.”

“Oh, sorry!” Gumshoe spun on his heels. “I’ll go up ahead of you and tell ‘em you’re on your way!”

“Thank you,” said Edgeworth, and the detective bounded back the way he had come and disappeared up a flight of stairs.

Finally able to breathe again, Edgeworth picked up his dropped blazer and turned to face the rest of the group.

“And thank you for your assistance, Mr Layton,” he said. “I’m not sure I would be standing here right now had you not taken up on the, ah, prompt to investigate my disappearance.”

Hershel gave him a tip of his hat and a smile.

“And you, young Triton?” Edgeworth went on.

“Yes, sir?” asked Luke.

To Phoenix’s surprise, the teen received a genuine smile.

“I see promise in you,” said Edgeworth. “I do hope you don’t plan to squander what obvious talent you have in regards to the courtroom.”

“I…” Luke’s cheeks glowed a brilliant red. “Thank you, Mr Edgeworth!”

He mimicked the Professor in trying to hide his embarrassment behind his hat.

“Good luck, Uncle Miles!” Trucy jumped forward and hugged him around the legs.

“The same to you, young Trucy,” said Edgeworth, and he gave her a surprisingly affectionate pat on the head. “Don’t go poking around any cold, dank caves for at least another month, understand?”

Trucy giggled as she stepped back, no doubt considering that Uncle Miles had more than enough hugging for one day.

“And Wright…”

Too bad he wasn’t done with it yet.

“Aww,” Phoenix said mockingly, “you don’t have to be all nervous about it, Edgeworth.”

“Wh-”

“Come on, bring it in, buddy.” He held out his arms and beckoned Edgeworth closer. “Bring it in!”

Predictably enough, Edgeworth tutted, sighed, and rolled his eyes, but he nonetheless stepped close enough for Phoenix to wrap him in a far looser and more manageable hug than that which both of them had just suffered.

But tut and sigh though he might, there was no mistaking that pat on the back he gave Phoenix.

“Don’t go climbing any more mountains, okay?” Phoenix told him. “Especially not to play a violin all goddamn night.”

He heard Edgeworth sigh again, although he had a feeling it was from something other than annoyance this time.

“I’ll miss you too,” he replied.

Phoenix took that as his cue to break them apart before this hug could get any more awkward.

“Good luck, Wright,” said Edgeworth.

And with that, he turned and departed in the same direction Gumshoe had taken, and Phoenix watched him until he had disappeared through that same doorway.

He already felt a strange emptiness, knowing this could be the last time he saw his best friend in a while, but he knew he could take comfort in the fact that Edgeworth was safe, secure and among friends and colleagues. Ones who wouldn’t let him go driving off into the Scottish mountains again, whether he liked it or not.

“Well…” Phoenix struggled to find the right words. “…that’s that.”

“Indeed,” said Hershel, giving him a pat on the arm. “I’m sure he’ll be absolutely fine, Phoenix. He seems to be a highly intelligent and capable person, much in the same way as you.”

“Aw, stop.” Even just that one compliment was enough to make Phoenix’s cheeks light up again.

“I think we’d better go, Professor,” Luke chimed in. “I’m not sure Inspector Chelmey would like it if he found out you were the one who proved him wrong again.”

“Yes, I agree,” said Hershel. “At the very least, we needn’t worry about cramming into the Laytonmobile anymore-”

“Shotgun!” cried Trucy.

“Seriously?!” Phoenix squeaked.

“My apologies, young Trucy,” said Hershel, “but I believe that at your age and, ah, height, it may be illegal for you to ride in the front seat-”

“Shotgun!”

“I said it first!” Luke added quickly.

“Dammit!” Phoenix spat.

Hershel, meanwhile, just laughed at his annoyance.

“Phoenix,” he said, “you’ll have plenty of time to ride shotgun after we’ve returned Luke to his parents. Is that a term you can accept?”

With no other options left, Phoenix shrugged.

“Yeah, I guess,” he groaned in defeat. “I just hope the Tritons don’t toss me out for looking like a hobo.”

The drive to the hotel the Tritons had been staying at was a little less lively than the drive to the Yard, thanks in part to the absence of one of their chief party members, but Trucy and Phoenix did their best to fill the Edgeworth-shaped void by telling Hershel and Luke about their respective histories with Detective Gumshoe. It was unfortunate that Trucy didn’t have as much to contribute as Phoenix, having only met the detective on only one occasion, but that only meant that she was as much a member of the audience as Luke and Hershel were, and shared in their mutual enjoyment.

Hershel only wished that he could concentrate on the stories rather than on his driving. He picked up on details about a murdered TV actor who had managed to frame his colleague from beyond the grave, the detective’s desperation to clear Edgeworth’s name following another framing, how he’d almost lost his job after needing to expose the district police chief for murder, corruption and conspiracy…

…and these, Phoenix assured them, were only the first bizarre adventures he had experienced with Gumshoe and Edgeworth. It was unfortunate that they only had time to hear those select few before they arrived at the hotel.

But throughout the entire drive, Hershel couldn’t help but note how quiet Luke had been. The boy leaned against the door, devoid of the satisfaction he’d gained from claiming the front seat, gazing emptily out the window at the passing buildings and pedestrians. He was only able to pass him brief glances, but Hershel couldn’t help noticing, bit by bit, as the colour trickled out of his sweet young apprentice’s face.

By the time they reached the hotel, Luke had come over in a waxy white pallor. As they all climbed out of the car, his hands were trembling, and he had plunged them into his pockets in a futile effort to hide that fact.

“Luke?” Hershel spoke gently as they entered the hotel lobby.

“Professor?” Luke said in an obvious façade of calm.

“Are you alright, my boy?” asked Hershel. “You’ve suddenly come over all pale.”

“I-it’s nothing!” Luke lied. “I’m looking forward to seeing my parents again, I swear!”

“Uh…” Even Phoenix was frowning at him. “Luke, nobody said you weren’t.”

Hershel frowned. He’d learned by now that Luke only ever behaved like this when he was trying to hide something.

“Luke, what did you do?” he asked.

Luke ignored him as he approached the receptionist.

“Excuse me, miss,” he said, continuing his facsimile of calmness. “Could you please inform Mr and Mrs Triton in room 108 that their son is in the lobby? Thank you.”

He stepped back, sighing, as the receptionist picked up her phone.

“Luke, this is very important.” Hershel didn’t try to hide his concern. “You need to tell me what you did.”

“I didn’t do anything, I swear!” cried Luke.

“Luke’s in trouble~!” Trucy sang mockingly.

“Hey, don’t-” Luke’s panic worsened as he noticed the nearby lift lighting to life. “Can you guys please stop? You’re making me nervous!”

“Luke, nobody’s accusing you of anything, alright?” Phoenix spoke with the patience of a saint. “Now please tell us what the problem is.”

Luke’s face didn’t regain any of its colour as he fidgeted his hands around in his pockets.

“Well…” he said hesitantly. “…u-um…”

And then the lift doors opened.

“LUKE!”

“Luke, you’re back!”

Nobody had any time to react before Clark and Brenda Triton dashed out of the lift and fell upon their son in a gigantic three-way hug. Poor Luke could only stand there as his parents piled onto him, clutching him tight, and no doubt he now understood what Phoenix and Edgeworth had experienced earlier that day.

“H-Hi, Mum…” he choked. “…hi Dad…”

“Luke, what in the world happened to you?” Brenda almost shouted as she and her husband released their son. “Where have you been?!”

“Do you have ANY idea how worried we’ve been?!” Clark demanded, clutching Luke by the shoulders. “What were you thinking, just walking out like that in the middle of the night? And with no means of contacting you whatsoever!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Luke didn’t have the courage to shake himself out of his father’s grip. “I’m okay! I promise!”

“Luke,” Hershel spoke up, “would you mind explaining yourself?”

“Hershel?” It seemed that Clark had finally noticed the others in the lobby. “So he went with you?”

“Oh, thank goodness.” Brenda looked ready to faint from relief.

“Come on, Luke.” Phoenix folded his arms and glared. “’Fess up.”

The colour finally come back to Luke’s cheeks, but in a far greater quantity than necessary. His face had turned a brilliant strawberry red.

“Luke,” said Hershel, “you told me that you’d asked your parents if you could accompany me on my investigation!”

“Well…” Luke grimaced in embarrassment. “…I didn’t clarify that they’d said yes.”

“Oh my god.” Phoenix sighed.

He perfectly echoed Hershel’s mood as he buried his face in his hands.

Clark sighed as he ran his fingers through his beard.

“Well,” he said, “I must say it’s a relief to have our son returned to us unharmed, but I’m sorry you had to be put through so much trouble, Hershel.”

He cast an angry glance at Luke, who was seated on the hotel room’s other sofa.

“I had no idea Luke could ever be so disobedient!”

Luke squeezed his hands between his knees, flushed in embarrassment again. As annoyed as he was at having been lied to, Hershel almost felt sorry for the poor boy.

“He was no trouble at all, my friend,” he said. “If anything, his assistance wound up proving vital to our investigations.”

“Yeah, we would’ve been done for if we didn’t have Luke helping us!” Trucy piped up as Brenda set a laden tea tray on the coffee table. “He’s going to be an awesome lawyer when he grows up!”

“A lawyer?” asked Brenda as her husband picked up the teapot. “And here I thought he wanted to follow in Hershel’s footsteps and become an investigator!”

“It just…” Luke somehow blushed even harder. “…turns out I’m good at multiple things.”

His mother giggled and ruffled his already messy hair.

“So Mr Wright,” Clark said as he poured out the tea, “if I’m understanding this properly, you were a lawyer until you were framed and had your license to practise revoked. Is that correct?”

“Yup,” said Phoenix, cuddling Trucy as she leaned into him. “I’m working on catching the guy who messed up my career. Probably got a long way to go, but when I do nail him, I want to make sure it sticks.”

“Good man!” Clark said cheerfully. “I can’t imagine what I would do if I were suddenly confronted by a person who’d ruined my career in such a terrible way. Do be sure to let us all know how it turns out!”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Phoenix replied as he took up a teacup. “When I catch this guy, I’m going to broadcast his guilt across the whole planet. Everyone is going to know that Phoenix Wright is not guilty.”

“Let me know if you need support in that regard,” Hershel told him. “I’m happy to help you however I can.”

Phoenix gave him a noticeably flattered smile.

“Thank you,” he said.

It may have only been a simple response, but something about that smile brought warmth to Hershel’s chest, and he had to force himself not to stare in a terribly ungentlemanly manner.

“And Trucy, you’re a stage magician?” asked Brenda. “That sounds rather exciting!”

“It is!” Trucy replied. “My favourite thing to do is blow the crowd away with the many marvellous miracles of Troupe Gramarye!”

“You should see the kind of tricks Trucy’s capable of,” Luke told his parents. “She helped the Professor escape from getting wrongfully convicted of murder!”

“And I’d do it again in a heartbeat!” Trucy added happily before either her father or Hershel could stop her.

Brenda stared at her, and Clark blinked in unbridled bemusement.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “I think I need a moment to process what my son just said. Hershel, you were nearly convicted of murder?!”

“Did you run away from the trial?” asked Brenda. “I can’t imagine the trouble that landed you in!”

Hershel cleared his throat and cast a sidelong look at Phoenix, who appeared just as uncomfortable as he was.

“Hershel,” said Phoenix, “I think it would be best if we explained things from the beginning.”

“Good idea, Phoenix,” said Hershel, and sipped his tea before it could get cold. “You see, around a week and a half ago, I received a letter notifying me about a relatively famous prosecutor, last seen in the Cairngorm mountains, who had gone missing without a trace…”

And from there, they joined forces to regale the Triton couple with the long, detailed, and exciting story of their exhausting visit to Fatargan. Beginning with the unconventional way that Luke and Hershel had met Trucy, and later reunited with Phoenix, and the train-based trial that had resulted in the arrest of a railway guard whom Luke was still angry at for his blatant disrespect of the Professor. They explained how they had met Dr Wallace on the bus, how strange the village had been right from their arrival, how the night-time streets had been flooded with wandering spirits and echoed with the whistle of a distant violin.

They told Clark and Brenda about the frustrating waste of time that had been Dr Wallace’s trial, the pointless ‘testimony’ of the Teeves and the secrecy of the Oldfarts, and the strange and aloof behaviour of Michaela Skellig. Brenda frowned in anger and disgust when she heard about how Angela had interrogated Hershel and Phoenix for why they were there, and Clark’s nails dug into the sofa’s arm as he listened to how Hershel had been set up to take the fall for Wrenkley Oldfart’s murder. He only stopped when his son warned him that they’d probably have to pay for any damage they caused to the furniture.

Both of them gasped in shock when they learned about how Trucy’s plan had saved Hershel from his guilty verdict at the cost of her father’s mental function, and the horror had only deepened at the realisation that the mystery violinist had been Phoenix’s best friend. Neither of them spoke of it, but both Hershel had a feeling that he and Phoenix mutually agreed not to mention the breakdown Phoenix had suffered that night. The poor man didn’t need pity from people he had only just met, especially when they were already friends of Hershel’s.

Needless to say, the discovery of Angela Skellig’s death and the horrific crimes she had committed prior left both Brenda and Clark horrified, and Brenda hugged her son dangerously tightly when he admitted that the sight of all the blood had made him sick. The knowledge that he, Hershel and Trucy had delved into the caves only made her hug him harder, with Luke having to struggle out of her grip before his face turned blue. Hershel was thankful that Trucy had dozed off by this point; he didn’t like the thought of her reliving the loss of her beloved cloak and hat.

It was obvious Phoenix was embarrassed when he described how Michaela had almost defeated him through sheer stubbornness, and how Miles Edgeworth – not only a prosecutor, but his defendant – had to step in to help him. How they’d managed to hold out until Hershel arrived, Luke and Trucy in tow, and together they had forced Michaela and the rest of the village to accept the reality they had discovered about the Painted King.

And then came the battle that followed, with Hershel showing his bandaged forearm as proof, and Phoenix even more embarrassed by having to admit that he had played for the Horde.

It was all Hershel could do not to shake him by the shoulders and demand that he be proud of himself, for heaven’s sake. Yes, whatever his power was, it was inscrutable and strange and nothing Hershel had even known could be possible, but he had saved dozens of lives by playing the Silver Violin that night and was more than entitled to some degree of pride.

Although, judging by the looks on their faces, the fact that ghosts and psychic powers were real was just as much a revelation to Luke’s parents as it had been to Luke and Hershel.

By the time they finally finished explaining everything that had happened over the past few days, the sun had long since set and they’d had to put the lights on. Trucy had completely fallen on Phoenix’s shoulder, unsurprising with how eventful the last week had been and how long this day had taken to reach its end, and Phoenix gently cradled her to make sure she was comfortable.

When the story came to an end, the group sat in silence, allowing it all to soak in.

“Goodness,” Clark eventually said. “I hate to bring down the mood, but…”

He turned to his son with a frown.

“Luke, I’m now even more annoyed with you for disobeying us and joining this investigation!”

Luke’s line of sight drifted down to the floor.

“…sorry…” he said softly.

His mother gave him a pat on the head.

“But we’re proud of you for what you did, sweetheart,” she told him. “Perhaps you should consider a law major when you move on to university!”

Her son gave a bashful smile.

“It’s LA based, just so you know,” said Phoenix, “but Ivy U’s got a pretty decent law program. Trust me, I’m speaking from experience here.”

“The last time we saw Mr Edgeworth,” Hershel added, “he was reuniting with a friend at Scotland Yard and reporting to them that he was, indeed, still alive. I’m certain it won’t be long before his Yatagarasu friend hears about his safe return.”

“It may sound strange to say,” said Clark, stroking his beard in thought, “but I’d quite like to meet this girl. She must have some nerve to blackmail Professor Layton, of all people.”

“Oh, trust me,” said Phoenix. “Anyone who wants to spend more than five seconds talking to Miles Edgeworth has got to have nerves of steel. That bastard could outstare a basilisk!”

“I suppose it comes with the territory,” Brenda suggested. “If you’re going to face down thieves and murderers in a courtroom, you’ve got to be at least a little bit intimidating or else they’ll walk all over you!”

And just like that, Phoenix came over all embarrassed again, giving her a flustered smile and an awkward little laugh.

“Yeah…” he said, “…I guess…”

“But it’s important not to look too eager,” Luke spoke up before his friend could get too awkward. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to look like you’re enjoying yourself too much, especially if you’re cross-examining a witness…”

He shrank down into his shoulders.

“…such as a recently widowed woman testifying about her husband’s murder…”

“Okay, I hold my hands up to it,” said Phoenix, only raising one hand due to the other being pinned against his side by a sleeping ten-year-old. “I shouldn’t have pushed so hard against Mrs Oldfart. But in my defence, I had my back against the wall. It was pretty much the only idea I had to work with!”

“Phoenix did everything he could to prevent me from getting a wrongful conviction,” Hershel added, “but it was clear to me from the outset that Michaela’s mind was already long since made up. The trial wouldn’t even have happened if it weren’t.”

“And it was just as horrifying to me when I realised Angela was the murderer,” said Luke, fiddling with one of his coat’s toggles.

Clark frowned at him again.

“Are you alright?” he asked. “You’ve come over all green!”

“I think it’s clear by now that Luke’s developed a phobia of blood,” Phoenix explained, “or at least a pretty strong aversion. Like we said, he was nauseous the whole time we were investigating murders-”

“Yes, and when the mopped-up bloodstains were found in the Skellig residence,” Hershel spoke up for him, “Phoenix had to send him home because he had been sick. Although it didn’t do a great deal to quash his appetite, did it, my boy?”

Luke groaned in embarrassment.

“Well, I suppose emptying your stomach would make you relatively hungry,” said Brenda. “Nonetheless, Luke, it was a bad idea to eat so soon afterwards!”

“I know,” said Luke, still fidgeting with a toggle. “I’m sorry. If I do become a lawyer, I’ll have to clip my nose or something so that I can’t smell the blood.”

“And to think part of me had wondered if you would become a doctor,” said Clark. “I suppose that’s safely off the table!”

Luke managed a smile at his father’s joke.

“And to think that such a young girl could conjure a plan that would save Hershel from a false conviction,” said Brenda, smiling faintly as she looked at the sleeping Trucy. “You’re a very lucky man, Mr Wright.”

Phoenix looked down at his daughter, totally dead to the world, and carefully eased his arm around her body to hug her closer.

“I know,” he said softly. “My life got totally upended when I lost my license, but Trucy’s one of the best things that’s ever happened to me.”

He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead.

“I don’t think I could’ve made it this far if I didn’t have her in my life,” he admitted.

Once again, Hershel did everything he could not to think back to that terrible night.

She looked so peaceful, snoozing in her father’s arms…

“Don’t be swayed, Brenda,” he warned. “This girl is not to be underestimated. She’s as gifted with thrown weapons as she is with lockpicks, and let me tell you, she is an expert at lock picking. Padlocks, railways security systems and barred windows mean absolutely nothing to this little hellion.”

Brenda simply laughed at his deadly serious tone.

“Yes, she certainly looks like a devious little criminal!” she joked. “Just look at her! I’m sure she’s plotting to rob the Tate Modern as we speak!”

The still-sleeping Trucy shuffled and reached her arm around Phoenix’s waist to hug him, and Phoenix brushed her hair away from her face and stroked her chin. He looked as if he could cry from sheer adoration.

He didn’t seem to notice the other four people in the room watching him, but then again, he probably didn’t even notice his own dopey smile.

“Do you remember when you were that small, Luke?” asked Clark. “You really seemed to enjoy falling asleep during a long car journey.”

Luke snatched his hat down over his head to hide his embarrassment.

“Do you know, Hershel,” Clark went on, “that Luke slept through almost our entire drive from Misthallery to London when we moved back?”

“Goodness!” Hershel chuckled. “It must have been quite a surprise to wake up and find yourself having moved from country to city!”

“Dad, please stop!” Luke moaned into his cap.

Clark and Brenda just laughed.

“I’m your father, Luke,” said Clark. “It’s my duty to embarrass you in front of my friends.”

Hershel sighed in contentment.

“Much as I’d like to continue listening to embarrassing stories about when Luke was small,” he said, “I’m afraid we ought to make tracks before it gets too late. It would be better for Trucy to sleep in a proper bed, don’t you agree?”

“Yeah,” said Phoenix, “if she stays here much longer, she’s going to put my leg to sleep.”

“I can’t blame her,” Luke sighed. “The past few days have been exhausting.”

“You can consider that your punishment for disobeying your parents, Luke,” Brenda chided. “As well as a warning not to do it again!”

Her son cringed away from her.

“Trust me, Mum,” he said. “My days as a teenage runaway are over.”

“I should hope so!” added Clark. “If we hadn’t realised you’d run off with Hershel, we would have called the police!”

“But we don’t have anything to worry about,” said Hershel, and he stood up and straightened out his coat. “Everything worked out perfectly fine. And if you would excuse us, my friends, it’s time we headed home.”

Phoenix slipped one of his arms under Trucy’s legs.

“Come on, little magical girl,” he said quietly. “Time to go.”

He stood up as gently as he could while Hershel bid goodbye to his dear friends, including one final hug from Luke that he could tell the poor boy didn’t want to end.

If he wanted to be honest with himself, part of Hershel didn’t want that hug to end either.

But end it did, and Hershel turned away from the Triton family before they could see the tears he could feel stinging his eyes.

He was going to miss them.

He always did.

Having gently draped Trucy’s sleeping form across the backseat, Phoenix finally claimed his beloved shotgun seat and closed the car door as softly as he could.

“Easy to see how Luke ended up such a sweet kid,” he commented as he and Hershel buckled themselves in.

“Indeed,” Hershel chuckled, and he wished his car’s engine could be quieter as he kicked it into gear. “Clark and Brenda have been my friends for close to two decades now, and it’s been an absolute joy getting to hear from them regarding Luke’s upbringing.”

“Hear from them?” Phoenix asked as they pulled out onto the road. “You didn’t get to see him?”

Hershel couldn’t help but sigh.

“I’m afraid I began working towards my teaching position around the time he was born,” he confessed, “and I was so busy that I simply didn’t have any time to visit. Not that I didn’t want to see him, of course. I simply never had any opportunity.”

Phoenix sighed and leaned his arm on the car door.

“And now he lives in America,” he remembered.

It was difficult not to sigh again when Hershel remembered that.

“Yes, I know,” he said. “Should he come your way, do watch over him, won’t you? He’s shown that he’s capable of handling himself, and I certainly trust Clark and Brenda to the ends of the earth, but I can’t help but worry about him from time to time.”

“Hey,” said Phoenix. “I’m pretty sure that just means you’re normal.”

And suddenly Hershel didn’t feel quite so saddened anymore.

“I do hope so,” he said.

His curiosity led him to check the time on his dashboard. 7:17pm. They’d spent far more time talking with Clark and Brenda than he ever could have expected.

“Now then, what should we do about dinner?” he asked. “My apologies, but it’s far too late in the evening for me to think about cooking anything decently healthy or satisfying.”

“Uh…” Phoenix groaned and hissed through gritted teeth. “I don’t know. What’re you in the mood for?”

“Hmm…” Hershel tapped his finger on the steering wheel in thought. “I can’t quite put my finger on why, but I rather fancy a curry. My treat.”

To his surprise, Phoenix groaned even harder.

“I hate to say it,” he said, “but you’re going to have to pay. That Jack Hill up in Fatargan practically bled me dry for our stay in her inn! I went up to Scotland with £105 in my wallet and I’ve only got £15 left!”

“Not to worry,” Hershel said before he could curse himself too much. “I know a wonderful little place not far from my home. Clark and I used to frequent it regularly for a post-exam pick-me-up. They provide the most wonderful naan bread.”

Phoenix glanced to the back of the car.

“Are we going to get anything for Truce?” he asked.

Hershel tapped his finger on the steering wheel again.

“I say we let her sleep,” he decided. “but it wouldn’t be fair if she were left to go hungry. We can get something to reheat for her at a later date, or for if she wakes up before we get home.”

He activated his indicator before turning at the next intersection, and once they were around the bend, he realised Phoenix had yet to speak again.

He glanced over to check that everything was alright and noticed his friend watching him with a sweet little smile.

“You’d make a pretty great dad,” he said. “You know that?”

Hershel couldn’t help but smile right back.

“So I’ve been told,” he replied.

It was quite late and rather cold by the time the three of them arrived back at Hershel’s home, and Phoenix took Trucy up to one of the spare bedrooms – one he’d been told was otherwise occupied by a young lady named Flora, but she was currently at a boarding school and wouldn’t mind Trucy borrowing her bed – while Hershel took their dinner into his living room.

A gentleman would typically use the dining room, he reasoned, but they deserved some time to relax. Not only that, but he had a television program that he seemed quite eager to show to Phoenix and was thoroughly convinced that he was going to enjoy it.

As a result, Phoenix returned downstairs to find Hershel waiting for him and a full Indian spread on his coffee table, already holding a TV remote in one hand.

The show turned out to be something called Blackadder 2, Phoenix soon discovered, which Hershel explained was vastly superior to the show it was a sequel to.

Phoenix couldn’t avoid thinking that it might have been a bad idea to watch such a show while they were eating their dinner, especially something as spicy as this butter chicken quietly turned out to be. He found himself almost choking on a mouthful of sauce and onion bargee at least three separate times in his body’s desperate attempt to laugh.

Curse the American broadcasting companies for refusing to import shows like these…

And with each episode’s credit sequence, Hershel would mention again that he had featured on Time Team with one of the leading actors. A rather nice bloke, he happily recalled. Apparently it was sadly quite rare that a celebrity’s interest in the sciences was anything other than performative, especially a science as extensive and ever evolving as archaeology.

And then he tore the last piece of naan in two and offered Phoenix the larger of the halves.

Phoenix couldn’t help but accept.

He didn’t even remember the last time he had felt so relaxed.