Chapter Text
After it was all over, Phoenix spent the next week alone.
He knew better. Really, he did. He’d been told before— time and time again— that there were better ways to cope when it was all too much. He knew he should have gone out, maybe gone to hang out with a friend, or at least taken the time to work on finding a new case. Instead, he had retreated into his apartment with enough sandwich supplies for a week and his own spinning mind.
Most of the time, he had his phone off. If he was being honest, he didn’t really want to deal with whoever might be asking after him. Not after his last case.
Maya had gone home to Khura’in, and he knew better than to expect any kind of correspondence from her until she had put the whole situation far, far behind her. With the loss of her mother still a fresh, deep wound, she would be doing what he was doing, now: hiding until it all blew over. Of course, Maya would be able to disguise her retreat into solitude as “training”, whereas Phoenix…
As far as anyone else was concerned, he didn’t have an excuse.
Despite himself, Phoenix took the time to prod at the issue— to observe, as if it weren’t his own heart, his own situation. He pressed against the pain, finding the shape it took, and considered what it would take to fill the hole he’d found. Was it possible to soothe a pain like that? Could anything stop up the bleeding? What would it take to save him?
Red hair spun and twirled in his memory, and he shut his eyes against the thought of it. He felt sick. His chest hurt. Everything hurt.
It wasn’t until his week was nearly up that he turned his phone on. He was equal parts relieved and upset that he had only missed one text over the course of six days— he knew it wasn’t fair of him to feel that way, but he was still on sabbatical, wasn’t he? He didn’t have to care, or push down whatever he was feeling, or smile when things got bad. He didn’t have to do anything. Even so, he opened up his single message and skimmed it once. Then again. And then he set the phone down.
Of all people, Miles Edgeworth?
One text, sent late in the evening that very night.
‘From: Edgeworth
20:03 - You can call me if you need to talk.’
Phoenix glanced at the clock on instinct. 23:49. He shook his head. It wasn’t like he was going to call him, anyway. Even if he did, he would be asleep. He didn’t need to talk to anyone, he just needed…
His hands trembled. He didn’t know what he needed. He knew what he wanted, though, so he picked up the phone once more and dialed the number he would go to the grave before admitting that he knew by heart, just in case. It rang once, twice—
‘Wright.’
Phoenix nearly threw the phone across the room upon hearing his friend’s voice. Wide awake, or that’s how it sounded, and absolutely expectant. Like he’d somehow known that Phoenix was going to give in that night.
He exhaled shakily. “Hey, Edgeworth. I… I just got your text.”
‘I assumed as much. Otherwise, it would be somewhat out of character for you to be calling me at all— let alone at ten to midnight.’
“Sorry. I don’t know why I called.” Phoenix worried at his lip with his teeth. “I didn’t think you’d still be awake.”
‘Paperwork does not rest, and neither do I, Wright,’ he replied easily, and Phoenix found himself wishing that he was there with him. He couldn’t tell if he was upset or amused over the phone— he was wholly reliant on the minute facial expressions and body language that Miles couldn’t manage to hide under his strict, professional persona. He wondered if Miles had that look in his eyes, the one where Phoenix knew that no matter how severe his words were, he was secretly pleased. The one that seemed to be reserved for him and him alone. Miles sighed lightly, and he heard the quiet squeak of his chair in the background. ‘You’ve been holed up in that apartment of yours for nearly a week, now.’
Straight to the point, as ever.
Phoenix leaned back against the wall, crossing his legs at the ankles where they just stretched past the edge of his bed. “Last case hit a little close to home. I’ve been… thinking. I gave myself a time limit. Tomorrow’s the last day, then I’ll be back.”
‘And yet you chose to call me tonight.’
“You offered.” No, that wasn’t what he’d wanted to say. “Can I talk to you, Edgeworth?”
‘Surely you’re aware that I would never pick up the phone for someone I did not care to speak with.’
A little smile crossed Phoenix’s lips— that was true enough. Edgeworth was notoriously difficult to track down when he didn’t want to be found. It had caused him problems in the past. “No, I mean… about something kind of serious.”
Miles was silent for half a moment too long. ‘If you need to talk, I am here to listen.’
“Stuff you might not want to talk about. It’s sensitive. Personal.”
‘Wright…’ Another of Miles’ little sighs, this time right into the receiver. ‘If it’s judgment you fear, you will not find it with me. I’ve said as much, as simply as I can. I told you that you could call me if you needed to talk. About anything. You are… you are my friend. I’ll be there for you, if I can. Just as you’ve always done for me.’
Phoenix was glad for the distance as his jaw trembled. Miles didn’t need to see that. “Thank you.”
‘Think nothing of it.’
Neither of them said anything for a long time— Phoenix listened intently to the gentle sound of Miles’ steady breathing, to the faint scratches of pen on paper.
After a while, he took a deep breath. “It’s about Dahlia.”
‘Mhm.’
“I just… can’t get over it. How sick she was, how depraved. Even after the end. And about Iris. I don’t… I don’t feel comfortable in my own skin. Not after all that. It’s like… knowing how close I was to it all. It scared me, honestly. Does that make sense?”
‘Of course.’
Phoenix drew his knees up to his chest. “I didn’t want to talk about it. It’s got me in a tailspin, you know? But I still… miss it, a little.”
He could practically see the furrow in Miles’ brow. ‘You miss…’
“Not her. Not even Iris,” he managed, and that had hurt him a bit to say. He laughed, a small, bitter noise that felt wrong escaping his lips. “Is that fair of me? I miss… the confidence. The feeling. Having someone to talk to about anything, to come home to, someone to… to hold, and I miss… Not being afraid that everything was going to fall to pieces and shatter around me if I got what I wanted. Oh, that— that’s stupid. Sorry, you don’t want to hear about that. I’ll shut up.”
‘You shut up only so that you can listen to me, and listen well, Phoenix Wright.’ His words were firm— angry, almost, but the follow-up was softer. Maybe even gentle. Or as close as Miles could come to such a tone. ‘Sometimes closure isn’t what we want it to be, and sometimes closure isn’t good enough. Sometimes all we can do is accept what did come, and step forward into our next chapter. You have a lot of people that care very deeply for you, Wright. Whenever you feel this way, you need only call on someone. And whatever it is that you want… you can allow it to shape your next steps, knowing that you have grown from the pain and the fear. Knowing that next time will not be the same. It will be better.’
Phoenix tried hard to wipe his nose without sniffling, but with the tears running down his cheeks, and the way the Miles’ breath caught from the other side of the phone, he wasn’t sure that he had succeeded.
‘Wright—’
“Thank you, Edgeworth. I think I really needed to hear that.”
A sigh echoed through the receiver. ‘Of course.’
“You’re a good friend, even if you don’t think so.”
‘I certainly do try my best.’
Phoenix laughed a little— a real one, this time. “I know you do. You’re great. I’m gonna let you get back to work so I can have a cathartic cry. Don’t stay up too late, okay?”
‘Only as long as is necessary. Make sure you drink some water after your… catharsis.’
“Yeah, promise. Good night, Edgeworth.”
‘Good night, my friend.’