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he finds him at arrivals. just standing there. coat over one arm, still as an exquisite marble statue. cold tears spring to phoenix's eyes, and he grips his daughter's hand, and is drawn near, near, to him. once again and as ever again, near to him.
his heart swoops. of course it does. but he is so tired. he is so tired. so all he says is "hey," with a regretful amount of exhausted depth to it. edgeworth's eyes shine faintly; their star-like glimmer puts to rest any misgivings phoenix might still have as to whether or not this is a terrible idea, at least. but they are so rich in feeling and history as to hurt, somehow.
there is no I trust you've been well? or anything. he hasn't. neither of them and nobody has.
it's weird seeing him in a mask.
it makes him look smaller, somehow.
edgeworth grips his elbow a moment, murmurs "a long journey, wasn't it," and at the responding sigh of "don't I know it," which sounds even to phoenix himself like it contains the curse of all the world's ills, he slides his eyes politely to the little girl.
"ah," says phoenix. ah. "this... this is trucy."
the simple statement hovers, and then edgeworth stoops a little. eyes now impossibly serious. "hello, miss wright. it's a pleasure to meet you." the girl's own eyes are saucer wide, burning with curiosity and caution.
"haha don't worry, this is the first time she's seen anyone in weeks. same here, actually. we're both a bit uhh, peaked." phoenix laughs fondly, squeezing her shoulder. but showily and solemnly, she extends a tiny gloved hand. startled, edgeworth recovers quickly - and shakes it very gently. oh, phoenix thinks. oh, this is the very crux of the past and future. he watches on with amused, thick emotion as two vital spheres of his life converge. it's a crucial moment that he adds away to the private little record of his heart, safe forever.
he has nothing more to offer but him in his tracksuit pants, an assortment of tired nerves and one little daughter - and he simply doesn't have the headspace to overthink any of this - so he has to tersely cut the moment short with: "did you park nearby?"
"yes, of course," edgeworth assures softly, as if phoenix would have any idea what the airport parking situation is. and then after a blank look over the sum of their stuff (child's suitcase and shabby backpack) asks with some reservation, "surely you didn't already go through baggage?"
"yep," phoenix retorts. calmly. he doesn't have a lot of things these days! sure hope edgeworth has a washing machine! "got everything, trucy? ready to go?" he's holding her case so 'everything' amounts to, as it no doubt seems to the other man there, the ridiculously strange wooden doll-like thing she is cradling. mr hat: weirdest carry-on luggage ever.
and like that, they are led away.
ignoring the overwhelming presence of german, they follow their guide out into the stinging cold. now that there is a definite destination in sight, no more decision-making, he has a little more space to think; albeit through a receding headache. he gets his first chance to really take in what edgeworth is wearing as they walk - he who puts his coat back over what seems to be a maroon cable knit sort of sweater; atop corduroy trousers that look scratchy. when was the last time he'd seen edgeworth in 'normal' clothes? it's very consoling that they are both what could be called dressed down, so to speak. he doesn't think he could handle it otherwise.
he's glad it isn't snowing, either. trucy would love it, but he isn't sure his heart is ready. he would have been fine with never seeing it again. there's a bit piled to the sides of the asphalt of the carpark though, and edgeworth has to try scraping a little frost off his windscreen, squinting in concentration.
letting him attend to however you solve that, phoenix walks confidently to the left hand side of the car, then stops short. "huh? I thought you drive on the... what..."
"that's britain, wright," comes the withering sigh, without its source even bothering to look up. he had at least expected a scornful frown at his lacking general knowledge. that frost really being stubborn, huh edgeworth?
letting trucy in at the back while she echoes, "that's britain, daddy," he goes around to the right and they all settle themselves. it's the very same car after all, which he can only assume edgeworth had ferried across here. cool. as you do.
"you may as well take that off now," the man in question gestures distractedly at his own bared face, putting on his seatbelt, and "I know you don't like to wear them since college," being the quiet addition. phoenix stares, reminded abruptly about a lot of complicated things, of which his friend's full face, seen for the first time in forever, inevitably wins as the triumphant theme. it's true. wincing at the cold he flips it into his pocket, looking firmly away through the window, heart not prepared to know whether or not edgeworth is checking him over too. and quite aware now that he hasn't shaved since the evening before they left.
"you okay back there trucy?" he sighs, flustered, as edgeworth finally turns the ignition. after she hums an affirmative, they pull away. it's going to be a long, jetlagged evening.
tentatively, they attempt soft small talk along the journey, trucy's dozing face captured in the rearview mirror. apparently despite 'frankfurt' being in the name of the airport, it is actually quite far from that city - which had only existed loosely in phoenix's mind as some big place. what spins by as they drive is instead remarkably rural; not quite as much as kurain, but countryside is all the same to him anyway. somehow, the knowledge that edgeworth has passed most of this year in such a remote setting is oddly soothing for his rattled mood.
"just a little further," edgeworth comforts him as his head begins to droop. "what with such empty roads."
"yeah... I can't believe you live so close to the airport. how far is other stuff?"
"well, my office is a short drive away in town, and there are a few grocery stores within walking distance."
"... what about the courthouse?" phoenix asks coolly. he is turned away. the road is pitch-black. his mind feels blurry. "about an hour," is edgeworth's murmur, after a tender pause. they don't return to the subject.
too keen to relax as soon as, phoenix doesn't process much of what the dark outside of edgeworth's building looks like. they're in a very small city or rather more a town, and this is probably the fanciest building in the fanciest part of it, but it's still a thousand times less ostentatious than the showy prosecutor apartment complex at home. what do you know.
the inside is a little more edgeworth, ancient european-style furniture but with the slight, unknowing flamboyance phoenix has learnt to expect from his friend. trucy trails off exploring with the tireless energy of, well, her. he really ought to elucidate edgeworth on how to trucy-proof a place, asap.
as expected, there are scant christmas decorations. he had easily predicted that to be the case, so before their journey began he had plucked one of trucy's favourites off their tiny, silly tree, and he extricates it from his bag now to stand on the mantelpiece. an angel playing a guitar. excellent. edgeworth's face makes a wounded movement at it upon returning from the bathroom (there are two), then a beleaguered sort of sigh, which makes it well worth it.
"uh, didn't you have a dog?" phoenix vocalises a weird thought very abruptly upon his first real scan of the main room, then winces miserably. was there some kind of dog death situation he should have recalled? he's been terrible at remembering these things lately.
as if reading his mind in that annoying way people do, edgeworth looks at him against the mantelpiece with some dry amusement.
"she's with franziska right now. it wasn't appropriate taking her between countries so regularly. of course with things now I would have appreciated being with her, but..."
"you can't," phoenix supplies unnecessarily, with his own theatrical sigh. "we'll just have to be as unruly and needy as a dog would be to make up for it."
"I've no doubt."
"you can't be a dog. you said they're not allowed, riiight?" trucy calls slyly somewhere from the corridor, doing god knows what.
unaware she had been at all listening, phoenix laughs in surprise and is about to fetch her, when edgeworth blurts quietly, "they don't allow pets at your apartment? even after you've been there so long?" phoenix remains still a long moment, then turns back with an easy, rehearsed grin.
"I don't have an apartment any more! guess I didn't mention it on the phone, I knew you'd only worry, haha. but yeah, we... kinda moved into my old office, I guess! after all, I'm not exactly seeing clients," his laugh is harsh, while edgeworth just stares with an unreadable face as if he wants to say something - who can imagine what. phoenix is aware his own cheery voice sounds slightly maniacal, which embarrasses him more than if he'd just turned up and complained about things. "my apartment's landlord was being bad at the start of pandemic stuff but my office's was pretty negotiable, so here we are. don't worry about it."
"one day it's gonna be my magic agency," trucy adds conspiratorily, briefly bouncing up on her heels next to him.
"trucy, you don't need to work. you're a little girl," he sighs.
"you'll see, mr assistant," is her bright call, and he laughs again after her. edgeworth says no more at all, as if the people before him seem to share a distant world just theirs, with its own unfathomable sense of hard-done-by humour, and he is not sure if he should intrude. phoenix isn't sure either. for it's true. to get through everything, the wrights have spun an unseen, desperate link between themselves. only that magic power could allow him to sleep soundly in the room where mia died.
after a lonely silence, the adults decide as one to figure out how this stay will work, at least before sitting down for the evening. so phoenix locates his daughter once more - now entranced by the huge floor-length mirror in the bathroom where she is doing silly poses - to help her to bed.
whatever sheepish worry, as to whether the sleeping arrangements were going to be in some way awkward, is resolved - because there are two extremely generous guest rooms; rather their host has already kindly converted his enormous study into a serviceable second. phoenix would feel bad, but being away from some of that stuff for a bit is hardly going to ruin edgeworth's life. inside it has all turned out to be, deceptively, even larger than that fancy place back home had been - though maybe that could be attributed to better european living standards. at least there doesn't seem to be a housekeeper this time...
at length he deems the emptier spare room as the best fit for trucy. left to her own devices overnight, she might really try "disappearing" some of that important work stuff. so with some effort, the two men together arrange the single bed to her comfort. there's a spare luxury mattress for the study that, apparently, edgeworth managed to buy last-minute from an acquaintance, which phoenix insists will suit him fine the whole time. knowing it'll be much comfier than his office couch back home, he can't deal with edgeworth's stuffy pride as a host.
trucy will wake hungry at some point pretty soon, plane food having been more valuable as a novelty than nutrition, but he leaves her snoozing for now. hahhh. how long until he can do that too? not yet.
*
"so."
the living room door snicks behind him, and he leans against it heavily. runs his hand through his hair wearily. but he cannot help rolling his head to gaze at his friend - straight from there.
"you aren't retiring yet?" edgeworth sits with one knee over the other; eyes expectant, alert.
"well... no." he hesitates, watching him watch him right back. "of course not." arms folded, he scans back to when he might have last had a wink of sleep. sometime on the first flight? "I haven't seen you in forever. and not since, well. everything." he tries to transpose the image of edgeworth's face from their last parting - his eyes soft as butter, looking at him long then too as if fixing him in his mind, to last. phoenix himself had been grinning, probably a little tearily. yes, it had been at an airport that time too. that's where they do things now.
"hey," he mutters as edgeworth steps around him - to pull the curtains closed, to turn on myriad lamps - now slowing to a halt at phoenix's tone. he meant to say something like, thanks for this, or I'm sorry to take up your space or some other thing. but he cannot, and only gazes, his throat tight, at the other man. they're very close, since edgeworth began his his little curtain thing. oh, what do I want?
minutely, edgeworth spreads his arms from his sides, phoenix twists his eyebrows in an emotional question, and they grip each other slowly and firmly and more desperately in the dusky lamplight - into a hug, an embrace, a reunion. he tries to keep himself together, and mostly does. but then he cannot help the squeeze of his arms around his companion's back as if for dear life, or pushing his face deep into the toasty crook of edgeworth's neck... absorbing peaceful warmth and vital familiarity. it's a bit too much, but he cannot bring himself to care. only him. there is only one person in the world he would throw his guard down with now, and he didn't realise it until now, and he's here, he's here with him.
edgeworth sighs deeply and heavily, an honest sound that dusts out phoenix's heart with its heady lungful of catharsis. it's been terrible, it's been terrible his mind cries, even why, why, why did you leave me again, look what happened which is a frankly alarming sign that the most childish haunts of his psyche are being unstoppered. no, but actually it's like this, you know: letting go now would let it all fly free. holding him is the pressing of the wound, the dam.
"I know, I know," is the urgent whisper against his own neck, making phoenix scrunch his eyes up in distress. what? what do you know - that? that?
the man doesn't pull away, lets phoenix choose the moment - which makes one wonder just how long he could have been indulged. he should have made it truly worth it, then. this isn't enough.
"don't go far. I'll make us some tea. or coffee," edgeworth intimates gently, perhaps now a little shyly. grips his arm in the same way as at the airport - with gravity and restraint. phoenix spreads his hands, demanding: where am I going to go, edgeworth? where am I gonna go? you're the one who goes - I never go - I've never gone but he is already alone.
even since getting so much closer last year, they had rarely embraced, if ever - perhaps once or twice at select sentimental moments, in company. the last time must have been... well, not at that other airport since maya had been there (he would have been too self-conscious), and edgeworth's own departure had been a few weeks before she'd left for khura'in, abandoning him for spiritual seclusion. he can count on edgeworth to not ever do that, at least.
making tea or whatever takes a long time, but he needs to collect himself too. he is comforted. he knows edgeworth knows, that he is comforted.
the evening couldn't have begun with any other sort of tone.
"I'm so glad you made it in one piece." edgeworth has returned with various bits and bobs, walking in briskly with almost imperceptibly trembling hands; almost.
"two pieces," phoenix corrects, including trucy. he himself sits now with little ceremony, calm and dizzy.
"ah. yes of course, two pieces." he had already known about trucy. of course. at first, phoenix had faced the situation alone, but... edgeworth had been the first person he'd informed about his decision. he's not sure why. by all reason, the prospect of irrevocably bewildering edgeworth and perhaps changing things forever should have stayed him, bound him to his own counsel only. but things had already changed.
when he had realised phoenix's heart was set, edgeworth had been breathlessly quiet for several minutes... then had explained he was looking up elementary schools on his laptop. oh, shit. tears slide down phoenix's nose at the untimely memories, but god, he genuinely doesn't want to cause alarm so early in the evening. not now they both know a certain other, tangential subject must be sorted out now, or there will be no peace.
edgeworth's worried and attentive eyes promise that fact. he is too determined, too keen, not to continue down the path he has set for them tonight. and it's ostensibly what phoenix is indeed here for. "perhaps we should leave this for tomorrow, and you should go to bed," comes the generous offer anyway.
"it's fine," phoenix mumbles, pinching the wet bridge of his nose, not about to haul his damned weight back up again yet, for anything. it's time. if they are together, he can do it. they settle in with the sharp atmosphere uniquely them. that one summoned when they are both prepared. this time, to talk - for the first time in-person - about everything.
about last year.
he hadn't wanted him to know. but of course, everyone heard about it. so he shut out contact from everyone - it’s just that edgeworth didn't give up, and then inevitably phoenix found himself seeking him out. edgeworth had said these things can be repealed and I wasn't going to bother you with this, but I just wanted to tell you that something similar happened to me recently, you know. and... but it wasn't similar, really. at all. this wasn't some prosecutor's misstep he could charisma his way out of, with good behaviour to balance it out like justice's scales. for phoenix, this was likely it.
this is it.
he had listened quietly on the phone, time and again, with no words left with which to plead by - and edgeworth seemed to take that as an opportunity to get in at him. of course, compared to 'choosing death', perhaps it did seem he was 'coping' better. but edgeworth didn't get it. phoenix just isn't that dramatic. it's never come naturally to him - not at all. he died, quietly.
(the secret little girl with nothing had slept on in the next room, quietly.)
(he would, at times, randomly break down - oh, the unresolved tension, the desolation. edgeworth would never hang up first, even though phoenix had known that he was more busy than ever, at that time. why had it taken phoenix's utter humiliation and exile to get him treated so gently? before all this, you always, always hung up first. back when I wanted to hear your voice more than anything.)
now they sit, a year and a half later, and phoenix can put into context the many things edgeworth has tried to share with him all this time.
phoenix had pictured him out here as he always was back home, but even more impressive - fighting and winning abroad, feeling none of phoenix's suffering and betrayal of the system. in actual fact, edgeworth has been immersed in private research, this year at least. his salary still paid to him through the pandemic, his sharp mind has been free at work. a dark hope seems to have fuelled him, as he observes the legal situations in europe, america; indeed the whole world.
perhaps those calm, steely eyes would betray little of that inner knife edge of fire - to anyone but phoenix. it's as though all edgeworth's own recent dangers and threats are, somehow, just negligible to him - he has higher stakes now - the truth, the truth. he will wait years to find it. phoenix gazes at his beautiful face. I don't think I can be that patient.
he obediently looks over every piece of evidence edgeworth passes him, evidence of everything. the state of all things in their little legal circles, which edgeworth has meticulously recorded - with no more heed for embarrassment or shame. even articles on his own, or von karma's, misdeeds are there for posterity. phoenix isn't sure whether or not to be mollified that his own situation too is only one more event to jot down - just another piece in play.
april 19th, edgeworth's retracted termination. (may 19th: trucy day, phoenix's mind supplies.) this last october 20th, blackquill convicted; the date for his final sentence date up in the air with pandemic delays. edgeworth doesn't make mention of the sentence itself, only stares wretchedly into the fire.
"there is hope, there is hope, we must make it so," he murmurs bitterly. "he is needed, as you are." phoenix's laugh does not stop him. "please. it's true, corruption is rife, at its worst point, legally and otherwise. judicial conditions are at their lowest, and people rightfully lose all faith in the police and law. but..."
"everyone flexing to win for the glory of it instead of following due process," is phoenix's wry tut, swinging his arm back against the settee as he contemplates pathetic political manoeuvres. and his own secret enemies.
edgeworth does not continue, so "I'll support you however I can," is what phoenix laughs out, mirthlessly. hands spread again as if to sarcastically offer the absolute shit-all he has power to. his eyes swimming, unable to follow suit with the farce.
"yes, do. oh, do," edgeworth returns seriously, eyes grave as he clasps phoenix's fingers - who struggles with no real heart to be unhanded. tries only to tear away from that strong gaze. let me go, let me go, he begs with his own, hoping edgeworth can't actually read that. don't listen to me, I talk such crap now, just stop looking at me like that, I can't take it, I can't handle you. "and people know it, and it cycles round. all I can do is cast all my faculties in seeking the answers." all of them? "I would go so far as to call this the dark age of the law."
something cracks and breaks in the fireplace. it's so funny that his apartment here has one in this day and age. phoenix's mind spins deliriously, his eyes narrowed as the cogs begin to turn, inspired but rusty. dormant. something strange is stoking.
edgeworth doesn't let go of one of his hands, seems to forget. sighs severely as he stares hard into those restless flames. "the loss of your badge," he begins heavily and kindly, "is a representation of a deeper evil. it has nothing to do with you." he pays no heed to the flinch of phoenix's fingertips. "it's proof in itself that there is work yet to be done - to be begun. that case hasn't ended."
"I know that damn well. but you don't seem to realise just how tired I am," phoenix smiles sweetly, bitterly, draws a knee to his chest and flings away the precious lifeline he had been clutching. god, but does this man make it hard.
recently, he has wanted to just forget all about it. it doesn't hurt quite like it did, and I never even wanted to be a fucking lawyer anyway. and honestly, he has half a mind to tell edgeworth he isn't that up for dwelling on it after all, ever, and to just let this become a meaningless holiday for trucy's sake.
because back then, it did hurt. how much he has been through, with maya, edgeworth's own troubles and traumas, demonic ghosts, off the bridge, everything... and yet somehow this had just hurt more even than all the murder threats, even being found by red-headed death. even though he had never thought himself one for honour or such, even though he still remembers his first proud day in the ivy art department before any of this wretchedness happened. (but now... can it be true? is it true? is there a chance? he has his wits, and his freedom. and time.)
and edgeworth... sitting upright with his dear, stern face not looking at him at all, gazing nobly and sharply straight over him into the future, a place that frightens those wits straight out of phoenix.
time. as if.
just last week could have been march - it passes him by.
"how much I've changed, huh," is what he says, laughing wetly, more wry than sardonic this time, as his head churns weaker and sadder.
"you have."
"so even you think so."
"your eyes don't have that haunted look," edgeworth tries, and phoenix realises miserably that he is measuring out the change since his disbarment, not since they had last been together in person. (probably, obviously, he had seen his face in the articles, which is monstrously depressing.)
phoenix stares moodily again into the distance, mind preparing to close up shop and shut down. it had been a good effort. (and yet now that he has been told there is 'hope', how he wants to keep hold of it…)
"haha. I used to be a real crybaby, you know. thought I'd lost it after I saw my first few dead bodies, but you make it all come back. no, I mean, even further back - you remember, don't you - you bring it all forward -" his voice is getting lost and teary, nonsensical just like his thoughts.
"let it," edgeworth urges. "bring it all forward. keep what you can't let go of, even resentment. though it's not necessarily something anyone else would recommend, in this day and age even that can be fine fuel for the long years. only keep by my side for now, and remember other things."
"why do you know so much," phoenix whines weakly, sniffling and gasping little breaths, his head bent. it seems they are very much just outright holding hands now.
edgeworth whispers, "it's just how I feel."
"please, edgeworth. I know this all goes beyond me, and I appreciate you pulling everything together for all our sakes." his shoulders slump, defeated. he just wants edgeworth to know one thing, that's all. "just, maybe I was never really meant to do this. all the weight and, well, trauma while running full steam ahead since mia's death, since, since dollie, have..." he can't believe he ever used to do it all. maya has moved on, and he gets the chance to speak to her even less than edgeworth. he had never admitted to himself how much she held him up. and he realises only now that he is deeply, truly grateful for her, and loves her forever and back, just as deeply.
"I, that is to say we, will need you. we will need you. we will."
oh, maya... and pearls is safe quarantined in kurain, everyone is okay - and trucy, trucy, trucy. "haha, I don't think you even get it. the only one who needs me now is that little girl through there. and I'm so glad. it's better for me this way." he pauses, then summons all his nerves to whisper the true, final testimony. "I'm too broken, edgeworth. what if loving is just going to be all I can do? would it be enough?" to look at him right now would be the end of him.
"you've misunderstood." edgeworth's own voice has risen from a whisper, much more insistent for it, and full of feeling - and absurdly, he forces phoenix to look up, both sets of eyes wide and stunned and desperate. "I need you."
before phoenix can process the weightless breath between them, there comes a timid knock on the door which near about startles both of them out of their skins.
"yes?" phoenix gasps at her in amused, stifled emotion, it spilling out every which way anyhow as he peers around edgeworth's pink cheeks. "come in, trucy."
for all he had just been thinking about her, the reminder that she truly exists, right here in this room and with another of his near and dearest too, is exceptional to behold. only that affection gives him the strength to quit sniffling giddily and compose himself.
"are you okay, daddy?" she asks as he gets up and wearily approaches her.
"yes, yes, yes I'm okay," he laughs, brushes tears from his eyes. "I'm okay. how about you? you hungry yet?" she knows he's a bit of a crier this year, and it's adorable how as ever she pats his arm very frankly.
"I already had the cookies from your backpack, actually! and the bread."
"well. how very resourceful."
before he can speak again to pose the dreaded question, she huffs, "do you need help brushing YOUR teeth?"
"haha, well, why don't we do it together? come on." before he takes her away, he glances nervously at edgeworth, who is watching with tired, unfathomably gentle eyes.
*
*
he wakes hours later, abruptly and urgently. he must return to his side, to impart some dream-won intelligence. important, crucial even, without which they cannot proceed. I must tell him at once.
but when he has trailed back into the living room, where edgeworth still sits hunched over his treasury of files - glasses illuminated by the lamp like little candles - he has forgotten whatever that secret, cherished information was.
wordlessly, he settles in beside him once again.
"more?" edgeworth's murmur is distracted. he gestures to the documents around them, abandoned what feels like long ago - for the weirdest, most important conversation they have ever had. there is indeed more to go over there.
"that's enough for tonight," phoenix decides firmly; stares off into space; recalls that wild moroseness. but this time is different. he can't deal with it any more tonight, but his mind feels organised, cleaned. headspace sanctified with utter emptiness.
nodding leniently, asking no more and not looking at him, edgeworth continues to read. all is at ease. do you know I cannot bear to be apart from you, not now I have you? gazing at the back of his head, phoenix feels his own fall upon that shoulder, and he has no power to remove himself, none.
no past, no future. no regret, no shame. he knows it is snowing outside. his emotions are exhausted and impossibly calm and pure. edgeworth also seems calm, in that he lets the moments go by, not moving. staying.
"thank you. so much." this he must verbalise before the night is over, against fabric and warm air. were those the words from the dream? oh, those at least?
"for what?" is the mild reply.
"I haven't felt like this in months. years..."
edgeworth doesn't move, but has stopped reading, and his throat works. "like what?" then he peers at him, and phoenix lets his eyes fall shut shyly, heart pounding.
"as though there's a future..." meaning his career, the world, trucy, more. them. he doesn't elaborate even to himself. how unbelievable that he managed to survive to this painless moment. even though he still remembers what it felt like being swept away by that icy river, into unconsciousness...
"of course there's a future," edgeworth mutters a little frustratedly, turning away perhaps. "or we would not be here doing this." phoenix's heart flickers on. he listens sleepily to the sound of someone straining at turning the page of his precious document - with his one free arm, as though not to disturb his silly burden.
"mm." phoenix has hidden his warm, smiling face even further into his comfy pillow's arm. "you can push me off you know."
"it's fine."
so he doesn't move. he gives over his weary bones completely and edgeworth even joins him, leaning back, taking off his laboured reading glasses and pressing bony fingers to his troubled, truth-seeking eyes. a deep exhale. their shoulders, arms, thighs, touching and touching.
and at some point soon, the notes are discarded, and a thick woolly blanket is pulled across both of their laps like a duvet, or perhaps a cocoon. they both eventually retire to their rooms for good, and phoenix this time enters a rich dreamless sleep, but he knows that moment was where he gained his best rest. his only rest in his life.
***
the snow has all gone the next morning, which comes upon them softly. but there's promise of more.
the skies have cleared, if only for a while.
at a late breakfast (lunch), edgeworth keeps a serene guardianship over his refreshed guests from behind a local newspaper. it's french bread and german meats, which keep both phoenix and trucy utterly occupied in their ravenous awe.
"I presumed," edgeworth muses dryly as they heartily consume as much as possible of the feast, "sandwiches were something you ate rather often, given your weakness at cooking, wright. I seem to recall it being something you can handle."
"yeah, but not like this. I mean the bread is actually kinda weird, but."
"even I can cook better than daddy," trucy chirps with some pathos, commandeering edgeworth's napkin to fold into weird shapes.
"okay, that is not true. trucy, you can fry an egg."
she ignores him and grins jokily up at the host. "daddy takes care of me, but really I take care of daddy."
phoenix's ears burn - but in a psychological way, it's not wrong. despite last night's confessions edgeworth has no real idea just how bleak those first few months had been, how hard he had had to try for her sake, and honestly he'll be glad to keep that a secret between them, forevermore.
"I don't doubt it," edgeworth indulges her, and the pair of them share a tormented sort of look. getting along well already, huh? well, phoenix reflects, since it's them, I'll let it pass. how it would have stung to hear, back then. how they both laugh, not at all unkindly.
he forces a grimace at them, heart full. gazes at edgeworth, bashfully. "I'll be able to take care of both of you one day, you just wait."
it's a bluff, his specialty.
"I don't do nothing, you know. not even last year." phoenix mumbles self-consciously as they clean and dry plates. trucy is attending a jetlag nap kids' extra bonus round.
"I know, I know." they perform the domestic task peacefully, side by side.
"I was even working last at a uhh, kind of russian place, but they're shut for now, obviously."
"and what exactly did you... do there?" comes the charming mix of polite understanding and frank disbelief.
"I... don't want to tell you? it's pretty dumb. anyway, I don't know if I'll go back, it gets pretty uh, intense there."
"...I won't pry," edgeworth responds, looking utterly baffled, and probably preferring to keep his mind free of whatever sordid things phoenix gets up to these days. how could he tell him? his unpredictable poker skills are starting to rust, and he fears embarrassing himself in the demonstration edgeworth would probably demand. definitely not about to mention the piano either... suddenly, the man murmurs, "I'll cook us a proper meal tonight."
"oh yeah, good idea. we've used up a lot of energy, walking about airports... talking all night. uhh, so I guess, with groceries do you need me to contribute, or..."
"I'll manage, thank you." the plentiful contents of the fancy stainless steel freezer are displayed. "I have a lot for us for already, I'll set out what we'll use to defrost. I thought these sprouts and sweetcorn-"
"ah... I'm sorry, trucy doesn't eat any greens yet."
edgeworth raises a delicate eyebrow, but changes course to simple bolognese ingredients. yeah, he could probably be a little more firm there. trucy needs stuff she doesn't know she does. to be honest, the fact that even edgeworth knows how to prepare a well balanced meal stings.
"so what do you give her?"
"ah, uhh... hmm. cheap takeout, instant dinners, you know. the healthier kinds."
"and to drink?"
"milk, I give her milk. I get a lot of grape juice at the moment... don't suppose you have any?"
"you mean......wine?" edgeworth has raised that eyebrow again, glancing uncertainly at one of his cupboards.
phoenix gestures scandalised in his daughter's general direction.
"then... no?? I can try to find it in town if it is that crucial to you."
"nahh, just something I've been way into lately."
"then anything else I can get? I'll fetch more fresh things when I go post my letters, what would you have her eat if you could?" he looks serious about the offer, hand hovering insistently with a pen and paper, so phoenix swallows his pride.
"well... trucy likes spicy and sweet food, anything interesting... I'll definitely have anything, maybe some cool german stuff."
"I'll see what I can do." he is already fetching his coat, envelopes in hand.
phoenix trails after him awkwardly. "I'll go with you... or I can go myself another day..."
"no, it really must be today - there are more sanctions under discussion, and I fear us being thwarted by panic buyers."
helpless, lonely and grateful, he has time watching him leave to wonder what exactly those letters are - urgent correspondence with lawyer colleagues? mayhaps a christmas card to franziska...? - before remembering trucy's earnest entreaty to find her english channels on the sleek tv.
there's all sorts after edgeworth returns a whole hour later, during which phoenix and an awoken trucy sat totally mesmerised by the epic highs and lows of german dubbed cartoons. fancy pasta, sweet potatoes, pears and oranges, schnitzel, onions... no cup noodles at all. and in the door of the fridge... an austere, french bottle of grape juice.
and so, they begin to spend their languid pre-christmas days.
*
now that he has time to cherish edgeworth's familiar presence, and indeed enjoy it far more and closer than he ever has before, those days are themed with a comfortable dizziness.
the most ridiculous things send his frail head spinning. the proximity. in some way he had forgotten edgeworth had a body and was not just an abstract concept, not just a muffled voice against an ear or a terse font in a phone. his breath ruffles his bangs, his fingernails are neatly cut. the tip of his nose gets red in the cold, he sometimes forgets his glasses are on his head. and there is the hypnotic little tail of hair at the base of his neck.
when phoenix reaches out - as they all watch a nature documentary about sea creatures - to tug at it during a teasing, thoughtless moment, edgeworth huffs with a wry laugh: "ohh, that. I haven't exactly been able to visit a barber. perhaps you might assist me there," and phoenix exclaims "no!" probably with a little edge of his old courtroom voice. after a moment's pause following whatever that was, edgeworth mumbles shyly, "well, alright," and at length phoenix stops stroking the silky locks and busies himself with partaking hastily of an orange. it really does suit him somehow.
*
they don't always relax, curled up together on the generous sofa.
each day, edgeworth attends to his work - during which time phoenix knows not to disturb him, if only for his own peace. so he watches stuff with trucy, or simply listens to her chatter.
she soaks up the fun of being here so easily, german to her like a magic fantasy language that people on the secret other tv world speak, snow a total fairytale.
and he knows edgeworth is always half listening. him dealing with a child had not been anything phoenix had ever wondered about, but now... stiff bones, stern expressions, but with soft eyes. when he seems most intent on his work, phoenix takes her out into the little garden for a run about, and yet edgeworth will sometimes come out on his balcony to check on her. the other residents stay in. they probably have their own entertainment inside, snooker or something...
and then at other times, he will sleep in and wake to see them lain together on the floor, edgeworth helping trucy with her homework. phoenix can't really afford keeping internet at home, so they're working off a homeschooling pack. she's kind of very behind in the school levels and it's enchanting watching them. listening to edgeworth patiently go through basic mathematics and science, in the very same room as his convoluted legal papers and phd-level books sit.
he invites phoenix out on a walk a few times, but it's too cold to subject trucy to.
"don't you ever leave her alone at all?" is edgeworth's disappointed, understanding query.
"no... I guess I don't."
"she has a pretty independent spirit. I think she'd be quite alright for half an hour, twenty minutes."
"maybe another day. she's not like you were then."
he worries the forbidden reference to edgeworth's kidnapped childhood might have been a disastrous misstep, but rather he smiles pensively and distantly - watching the little girl work on sums on the other side of the room, today dressed stubbornly in her little magic outfit. "she reminds me of franziska at that age."
phoenix blinks, not comprehending that connection at all. but drawn in as by hypnosis to the rare, nostalgic expression upon his friend's face.
"back when the law books were too heavy for her, I would help set them on the floor for her to crouch over. they're both desperate to live up to a duty, and surpass everyone's expectations. an old name but their own power. she reminds me of her," edgeworth repeats, eyes old and young all at once, and phoenix watches him wander away.
christmas music on tv reminds him it really is around the corner.
"oh yeah... sorry, we don't exactly have much in the way of christmas presents," phoenix admits in a thoughtful call. they don't really do much for it anyway. his family never had, past a certain point.
"your company is enough," edgeworth returns in a tranquil, distracted sort of way, which reveals how to him it isn't a strange response - merely an honest one. but phoenix feels tenderness warm all the way to his ears and feet, and hides his grin.
*
it's while the other two are watching a steel samurai stage play edgeworth thought trucy would enjoy over breakfast - she thoroughly enthralled by the stage craft - that phoenix receives the most unlucky piece of news in a while, for him, at least.
"uhhh don't mean to alarm you," he begins while staring at his phone, "but the uh, the borders have just closed. for all of europe? haha."
edgeworth pauses while buttering his toast, hovering ridiculously while phoenix's heart beats miserably fast. "well. that was lucky." now he feels his eyes widen painfully round. "you made it in time. mind and keep checking your emails every few days for updates on your flight refund." edgeworth then consumes his toast. phoenix has no idea what he puts in his own mouth, but it must have been something sweet, as every inch of his insides become heartrendingly warm, again.
he forgot. he forgot how to look outside the box.
*
he slouches alone on the balcony again later, edgeworth finishing up a bath. so they're going to stay here longer - indefinitely, given things. but can his heart cope with that? his mind wanders on with the aid of a few nervous beers long gone. dwelling tipsily on the unknown, unknowable future.
edgeworth is never gonna come back for years now, nobody's going to travel any more after this year. plus he hates america now. and like, like, what if he just settles with some....fancy german guy??? the alcohol-induced anxiety is preposterous, but it sure makes him squint into the dark, upset. it would be fine if it made him happy, but it just seems extremely weird. doesn't it seem weird? but did edgeworth ever imagine him with a daughter? phoenix thought he himself'd gotten past the worry of it seeming strange to people - there aren't people any more, really, this year and all. it simply is what it is. trucy is his daughter.
the simple fact is that if phoenix had the option, why would he ever emigrate to another country edgeworth didn't live in?
like, other than trucy, there's just him. it's just, that's not negotiable. but what if edgeworth stayed in europe and just never came back? if phoenix was just, not ever gonna be that important to him. if it was just too much.
invariably, his heart wanders to the incident. the fabled Incident. can edgeworth truly have forgotten? phoenix thinks about it every time he drinks. a little drunk on better alcohol then, early last year, as if too willing to let go. wild and confused, restless with each other, he had invited him, almost inconceivably, home. they had sat upon phoenix's old couch, and kissed. it is not to be alluded to. what phoenix remembers is little but how his hands had trembled violently and how he had cried a bit, and it had ruined everything, for a while, back then. it had been too much. it had been too early, too late, then.
what's more - those frantic, roundabout attempts to mutually process it, had only deepened the miscommunication between them. it only became clear edgeworth maintains conviction that he both initiated and pushed phoenix away, while phoenix himself is pretty sure it went down the total opposite. so, the twin shame and guilt they both felt had forbidden that topic like a psyche-lock.
if not for the uneasy, mortifying labour of repairing their original, chaste dinner tradition, he would have been truly distressed out of his mind after edgeworth transferred himself to europe. at the stupid thought that they had lost what they had forever. only the sweet sound of edgeworth's low voice against his ear as they both lay in bed, safely continents apart, had eased his nerves since then. telling him about whatever mundane things phoenix asked after, what he'd been watching on tv, when he thought he might be back. they were idiots but no matter what form it took, their ridiculous relationship was simply vital.
or is it like they'll have to kiss every 5 years or something, just to get the tension out. bit of a wait to the next one, huh? at the time, that had seemed like enough, too much maybe. now it seems hopelessly sad. the idea that they might just live like that, forever. what before he had prized as a timid ideal, seems so barebones now.
at the time, even he hadn't wanted his heart to be witnessed so openly. strange - considering how comparatively carefree he had been then, able to live as he wished, and still hadn't been asking know me, know me. the horror of possible rejection, of ill-timed gestures, of an alarming truth. he had had pride, then.
or is it that he is free now? for doesn't edgeworth now sit by the fireplace at this very moment?
what if he could sober up and bring forth the past rather than shut it out, or rather, cut off the dead parts like chains, and carry what's left? like carrying a very small girl away from a courthouse.
*
rising restlessly, phoenix manages a masked solo trip to the globus supermarket place while the others are still asleep. he needs time to think. to fumble around with euros and procure all sorts of weird stuff with the sum edgeworth left out for him. hmm, incomprehensible german instant dinners, fruit loop cereal for trucy... more cheap beer instead of the wine edgeworth had requested. who will sigh as if mortally pained, but dutifully fit it into his fancy fridge system all the same, everything carefully stacked inside like a family.
and there's the cute collection of special christmas food edgeworth bought for them there, too.
"look trucy," phoenix had beamed, "we've got gingerbread cookies and pudding and..."
"and mr goose!"
edgeworth had blinked over at them, possibly at the inappropriateness of anthropomorphising something they're going to cook.
"yes, but also mr potatoes and, uhh... what else..."
"ah... mr cabbage. and suchlike," edgeworth supplied.
losing interest after vegetables were introduced, trucy had squeezed out of the shopping bag the advent calendar she had begged edgeworth to 'keep a look out for'.
"advent calendars... oh yeah, we did one of those together last year, didn't we? but it'll be too late to start now."
"daddy, we can just open the days that have already passed!" trucy had giggled at the lack of logic grown-ups express sometimes.
"oh, yeah, sure, that works too."
she's actually taken out all the chocolate by now, filling the little doors with tiny tricks and surprises out of paper and such. she gave the days that have already passed to the adults as an 'allowance'.
*
*
the two of them are next on the balcony together, just where phoenix angsted the other day; each cradling one of the awful beers a little early in the day for it. "look, do you remember our dinners? think about them?"
there is only a short pause. "yes. of course." edgeworth isn't looking at him. "I thought I intimated as much on the phone."
"I miss them so much," phoenix too is finally ready to admit, even to himself. "they were so silly. both of us in work suits, just talking about work, yet somehow..." he flashes back to the burning candles, and how his heart had beat so fast just because edgeworth looked straight at him while having a swallow of wine... eyes undone if nothing else. the moment of indiscretion that had led to. "they'd been so special and precious. those were the days, huh? you know, without your cravat and suit you look - simpler. older."
"I am older, we both are."
"I know. I know." they're almost 30. edgeworth gazes at him spiel nonsense, frowning with sad, searching eyes. "I, I miss when we were in the same place," phoenix finally puts it, meaning a lot. "those were the days, huh?"
"they're still the days," edgeworth insists, cryptically.
"I don't know what I'm doing, but I love her, getting up each morning, it's just her right now, there is no other reason," he's rambling.
edgeworth takes the reins in his solid, matter-of-fact way. "don't book a new flight just yet. stay here, I'll pay your rent in the meantime. don't court eviction."
"I might really take you up on that, for her sake."
"you'll need that office again one day. one day, you'll need it."
phoenix feels his fingers making grabbing motions against his will, unsure what it's supposed to mean, until edgeworth draws him into the necessary embrace.
"is this okay, is this okay," phoenix babbles against his shoulder.
"for the love of god, yes. shut up." it's a relief to feel like he can. they are there for quite a good few moments.
"I think I need some fresh air," he finally sighs after taking in one last deep breath of edgeworth's atmosphere for the road, and dutifully steps away. he doesn't want to embarrass himself. "like, properly outside. you wanna come with?"
"just us?"
"hmm, I just really don't like to leave her. how about..." she deserves to see all the christmas lights. and so the three of them go for a late afternoon, early evening stroll, the cold sun and moon invisible above them. the clouds and roads are so thick with snow as to create a liminal world neither day nor night.
the men both seem to reach for each other's hand at the same time, neither looking, both a little startled, a little held. they are warm. phoenix gets a nostalgic rush of doing this the first time. they had been 9.
the present 9 year old is about to skip on ahead, until phoenix begins, "trucy, you know, we're probably gonna stay here in germany a little longer. is that okay with you? mr edgeworth will keep making us nice meals and taking care of us, how about it?"
"kay," is her simple response, blinking cheerfully as a snowflake lands on her nose. fondly, phoenix puffs up her hat to cover all of her hair.
"but the office, our little house, is gonna wait for us for when we get back, okay?"
"what about charley?" is trucy's main concern.
"ah, well, you know he's actually survived longer times without water even when I have been around, so I think he'll be fine..." phoenix laughs sheepishly, to an outraged little gasp. "I'm more concerned about the gas people trying to get in if we're not there to replace that damn boiler." he's already paid for it. and it's not easy to get across that cluttered floor without express direction. "at least we won't be using any gas or electricity or anything, hey?"
"I'm gonna become a top magician to pay all the bills one day," she chirps, kicking her feet at snow as they walk. almost losing her little shoe with the exuberance.
heart aching, phoenix holds out his hand, and she fits herself in between them, holding edgeworth's too. there's nothing either of them can say to that, phoenix's just be a little girl never sinks in. her mind is too keen. she knows nothing about her situation is typical, that she is not a normal little girl.
it's been embarrassing hearing her rattle off hey! mr edgeworth you'll waste the water! when the kitchen tap is left running for two unnecessary seconds, or hey! you left the bathroom light on mr edgeworth! - these miserly habits being so ingrained in a 9 year old's mind makes him feel so pathetic. but edgeworth always nods and apologises to her, looking grave.
that's it. phoenix makes the guilty decision to let her do whatever she wants when they get back. leave her stuff all over the place, practice her magic tricks instead of chores. not force her to eat all her vegetables. nobody is ever going to call him a good parent.
but this is all he can give back to her.
after their christmas eve wander, when they are enjoying the taste and atmosphere of their little christmas dinner (apparently this is the day things happen here), and trucy is a little hyperactive on pudding and an extended bedtime, phoenix finally gives her a little jewel broach pin he'd found in a thrift shop, and a bundle of fancy german crayons and stuff. she likes to design costumes and outfits, so he knows the annual luxury will be appreciated long-term. and edgeworth delights both of them by presenting her with a big illustrated book of famous european stage magicians, the perfect complement. he must have had it knocking around for a while, from back when bookshops were open. trucy right away enlists them as an audience while drawing magical christmassy things on her new paper.
"ah, this reminds me of when I was a kid, like a little party." phoenix's musing is rueful, it being a statement he knows is unlike him. or maybe it reminds him of doing dubious arts and crafts with the feys on his time off at kurain.
once, his mom had put on a little christmas party, before her health got bad. he'd had a few friends round from elementary school then, and they'd done this sort of thing. that's right. edgeworth had been there.
phoenix looks up to see the man already watching him, and smiles in surprise, in knowing. it's a kind of orbit, the long way home. he doesn't want to ever see edgeworth looking the way he used to, though it is not dissimilar now. gazing from afar upon him and maya laughing or teasing each other after a case, or at a group dinner. or even as far back as 9, when all there was to gain was getting another little kid to like you. a lonely, complicated look, like glass. no matter how shamed by society either of them have been since then, there's no need to look that lonely. we're right here. that's what I've been saying all this time. I'll get further away again, but come look for me. don't let me go. I will wait for you.
*
they don't see much of edgeworth on the 28th.
now being a father, so to speak, phoenix feels it heavier. he feels it heavy. they don't talk about it.
they don't talk, but it's always been like that, and maybe sometimes it's okay. dl-6, all that, it always felt like an invisible bond of chains; everything they had ever shared, everything they hadn't, painful to pull on, painful to acknowledge. but somehow, somehow it's okay now. it feels better.
edgeworth is quiet when he emerges in the late evening, and gazes outside a lot, but he spends a little bit of it teaching chess to trucy. she can tell when he is letting her win, so they play again and again.
their competitive smiles: phoenix's greatest treasures.
the idea von karma senior could take a kid in for selfish purposes had seemed awful before, but now it feels incomprehensible.
edgeworth.
trucy.
of course he had felt resentment for gramarye. of course. and perhaps he and an evil prosecutor both had looked down at a little kid and thought, you're mine now. but it was not the same. it had been different. and after a few weeks with her, he could hardly even locate that resentment any more. that's why he had been so pathetic back then, because all he'd been left with was ash, no fire.
you're mine now, my dear - as much as you want to be. you are my responsibility.
he knew too well all about the local tabloid comparisons between him and von karma, two pathetically shamed lawyers. but he had never realised until now that the comparison should not harm him. that it is to phoenix's benefit. that he claimed for good, not for ill. does edgeworth ever dwell on that sad parallel?
he catches the man looking over at him, as ever, at a muted dinner with luminous, liquid eyes which gently pierce him in place, and wonders if perhaps he does.
*
"gotta get better at cooking... can't let you do everything forever," phoenix muses teasingly, as they enjoy an adults' supper, the good food and drink making him feel a little emotional perhaps. both of them are a little on edge after the quiet, sensitive day previous.
"you'll do a lot better for yourselves now, at home."
"yeah... I guess. it's easier to do it when it's for someone else, right? I mean how often do you really cook fresh meals like this for yourself? yeah you eat good stuff, but I know it's usually all frozen."
"there's little point cooking every single day unless it's for a family-sized meal. that's never been relevant for me, wouldn't you say?"
"well, one day maybe you'll get to cook a family meal whenever you want." hmm, maybe one glass of wine too many.
"that kind of family isn't... for me." edgeworth warns. gazes at the picture of his father now on the mantelpiece, which phoenix has never seen out before. "I have made my peace with it."
"no!" phoenix insists around angrily forming tears. it's abrupt, and stupid. "why not? you say you need me, you'll need me, whatever, but I need you too."
"I have accepted it," edgeworth continues faintly, not listening to his half-drunk whining. phoenix tugs his wrist and urges him to look.
"you're making me say it? I don't want to do this without you. I thought that was obvious. look outside your own head and really think about me for once!"
"I couldn't possibly think about you any more than I do already," edgeworth scowls with a pink face. "it's endless!" he flings phoenix's hand away, who puts his back on top again, blushing agitatedly. the irritated little battle goes on for some time, until they get tired and edgeworth sulks, turned away, expression unreadable. but when phoenix curls up back to back to sulk too, this time he isn't pushed away.
*
edgeworth returns from an errand early the next afternoon, surreptitiously setting a big gathering of red roses into a vase upon the dining room bureau.
wow. "hey," phoenix smiles at him, gesturing to their setup on the table. "come join us."
"poker?" edgeworth guesses, having finally turned and taking them in with shy eyes.
"yeah... guess the jig is up. this is something I picked up at that russian place." trucy is focused on it, set on finding the sleights of hand she generously expects, when he says every turn that he 'still has something up his sleeve'.
"do you actually like it? I wouldn't have expected that of you."
phoenix smiles thinly. thinks of a certain gramarye. "no. I guess I'm practicing for a rematch with someone." catching the curious narrowing of edgeworth's eyebrows, he laughs casually to dispel it. "honestly, I think trucy is better at it than me." now edgeworth's eyes bug, probably at the very idea of encouraging a little girl to play poker anyway. "haha, it's fiiine, you're just good at things like this, little movements, playing people, aren't you trucy?"
"that I can believe," edgeworth allows as he sets himself close down, scans his hand. ah, that's right, she's already won your heart too, hasn't she? pressing his arm against phoenix's, he starts advising him when to fold.
*
the snow looks pretty thick today - the day before new year's eve. new year eve's eve. edgeworth has invited him quietly on another walk, and already passed through the door as if he cannot bear to face rejection. and this time, phoenix is ready.
of course being alone with edgeworth in it will dust up all those hard memories. it will feel strange. but somehow, it doesn't hurt too much to think of. up at that temple last year, snow falling around your stiff shoulders like a halo. last time, edgeworth had come across the sea to reach him. yes, it had been like that. from there to here - no, here to there. as phoenix's mind flashes and spins silently with memory upon trauma, he grabs his mask and cries out, sincerely and with desperate affection, "I'll go with you."
"it's absolutely freezing," he laughs once he is in it, squinting up at the frosty steeples of buildings, the dusky moonlit sky. the faraway time and space. and he can confidently append, "but it's lovely here in the dark, and snow, huh."
"it is..." is the slow reply. "it really is."
edgeworth again in that awkward halo of snow and lamplight. it's because you're here, is the unnecessary realisation. you think you need me, but I need you too. I will find a way today to make you believe me.
they begin to walk as though let free. he worried they'd get the confusing predicament when two small groups encounter each other on the same path, but the world is still, the snow on the path perfectly pure.
at some point, as if still inescapably following a play, an unalterable script, they gravitate towards a bench in the abandoned neighbourhood park.
phoenix shivers in his cheap coat, freer now unmasked but yet colder for it, and he isn't aware edgeworth is looking at him, until he feels a hand upon his arm. "here."
he'd not really taken deep notice of what edgeworth had been wearing, but now he knows - one item a luxuriously woollen, deep blue and red scarf around his neck, or rather, being folded snugly around phoenix's. edgeworth has a lot of well-made warm clothes like this.
"h-hey," he tries to protest, eyes fixed with worry and interest on edgeworth's pitifully exposed neck, pale and lightly moled. you always decide what's best for us all by yourself. it's not enough. "you'll catch your death!" there's nothing for it but to wind the generously trailing item around both their necks. they're stupidly close now, surely than they've ever been.
"but that's ridiculous." a pink-cheeked edgeworth scrunches up his disapproving mouth, trying not to laugh. phoenix's heart feels clear and strong - the next moment, tremulous.
"I'm sorry, I don't know how to do any of this." what is he saying?
and "really?" is edgeworth's simple question.
they gaze at each other a long time, the air spinning flakes around them, edgeworth's eyes very deep and rich, and unfathomably still. like they have always done together, endlessly, across even the sea. they do nothing but look long at each other.
heads leant back slightly, but a hair's breadth apart. he crossed that sea to get this close again. yet the last distance... everything difficult that has ever existed between them, is in that space - or perhaps nothing. he feels his own eyebrow twitch, his own eye narrow and widen. what can edgeworth see in him right now? why keep looking in here? truth-seeker.
a sudden drop of snow falling from a roof startles him, and he glances inevitably to look at it; but edgeworth takes his face in hand to pull his eyes back, stops him from turning away, and kisses him.
his whole breath is captured at a delirious, panicked high point. the whole world is in there. it's a lot. but when edgeworth begins to move away, and the cold seeps in: this time phoenix keeps him there.
they smile upon each other, hand upon hand, lips together in prayer. that same old hymn they have always spun together between them, theirs, the follow me and don't go and it was you who taught me that. he forgot how to do it, but that's okay. he forgot everything, but it's okay. there's enough left in him for this. there's enough. edgeworth breaks them apart like an ocean, presses their foreheads and noses together, sighs deeply against phoenix's chin, and there's enough left for years. he is alive.
oh. so it's as simple as that.
"happy christmas, happy new year," is his own first, dreamy breath. "happy-"
"it isn't the new year yet. literally, it is just a day."
but phoenix laughs and kisses him again, and again, instead of that. there are no further arguments.
"I missed you. all this time."
how long? "I know."
edgeworth tries again, voice weak and yearning. "I didn't want to burden you with my feelings."
"edgeworth, I know. it's okay."
"then we should return."
that's right, they've been walking, but aimlessly again, both afraid to lead. "wait-" phoenix whispers, harried, but he has no excuse as he clings onto that sleeve, terrified that when they go back, everything will feel different. that edgeworth will remember there's a daughter now, that they'll have thousands of miles between them, that it's them and their partnership is laboured with history and trauma.
that phoenix is who he is at this moment - neurotic, wild, changed. running on empty most of the time, a hair from disaster at any time. the scarf starts to unspool around them as they pull in opposite directions, phoenix now towards home, edgeworth back into the unknown, giving him more time, always more time. he's scared, too. so phoenix pulls him firmer, against his own heart and mouth for strength. ohh, it's nice, kissing. how he'd forgotten. how can he be apart from this now he knows for good?
they lead and follow and lead each other back, back from the delicate freezing world into their little nest. just as they walk up the steps together, phoenix studies him carefully.
do you know? do you know? that I'm yours now? what will you do with me?
what will you do?
*
"will mr edgeworth ever come to live with us? or us with him, forever?" trucy asks.
"not yet," her daddy murmurs distantly, not really fully listening. "he has to work here a bit more ... w-wait, what?" but she has already nodded. one day.
*
"getting together over christmas. there are movies like that," he teases with a smile, feeling his own cheeks burn merrily. the fire is warm too.
"get... getting together," edgeworth stumbles, and phoenix's heart stutters too.
"I'm sorry," he mumbles at once. "is that a little too soon?"
"no, I," edgeworth says just as fast. finds phoenix's hand upon his thigh, and looks down at it as if startled that he took it, and is allowed to. "I suppose, I never really thought of us as apart ... in that way."
*
*
*
2020, huh. the dark times have come upon us, now the trial to live through them. for the sake of the future. and the will to find it.
the space between them will grow again. the distance. but because of all the spoken and unspoken solutions and answers edgeworth has gifted him, he feels calm about that. I wish when your world had burnt down you had let me do this for you. choosing 'death' or whatever the hell... but it's different for him.
even when driven down to this very last limit, phoenix never chose 'death' but - taking trucy in - he had chosen 'life' instead. even when this year had driven him near out of his mind, he had taken the opportunity to flee here to this man. he is different, he is not stoic, and he can't deny it. why bother? where else does he have to run to? if edgeworth is not at home, phoenix must eventually go to him. that's how it is.
the space between them will grow, again and again. trucy has her life, her home now, I can't uproot her again. he has one duty left. but one day.... one day.........
new year's eve.
begone, this one of frightening change, of hopeless unchange.
and entreated or not, the year relentlessly turns.
his mind scans those who come to mind, that evening. blackquill in chains, edgeworth binding himself again and again, as a self-appointed servant of truth. all the little girls he has known with the weight of a mythic birthright. phoenix himself; free as a bird over the sea, as lost.
from bond, from thrall. deliver us.
I'll find part-time jobs, I'll lay low. I'm alive. I won't lose again. he gazes on as edgeworth listens to mr hat very solemnly while he and trucy sit close at the top of the landing stairs, as they wait for phoenix to put on his shoes. now I have a future to defend.
whether it takes a year, a decade, a lifetime, I will find the truth. about you and me, and of this world.
they all hug under the dark sky, their little family. and not fireworks but the bells - they gong clear at midnight and clean it all out.
"this year will be different," edgeworth murmurs against his mouth, making him smile despite himself.
"don't, don't, you'll jinx it."
"you can trust me."
"no evidence needed?" truth-seeker--
do you want to know the truth? do you? I'll whisper it in your ear.
and edgeworth's eyes reflect a thousand lights.