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*ring**ring**ring*
It’s two AM, and it’s his phone that wakes him. He rolls off the bed he’s shoved into the back of the office, back where the clients don’t go, and he grabs it from his bedside table to answer it. “Hello?” he asks.
“Um… hello, Wright.” A familiar voice sounds over the line. “Did I wake you?”
“No, no.” He lies, quickly. “I was awake, doing paperwork. Is everything alright?”
He hears a deep breath, and then. “I had the dream again, and I just… I didn’t know who else to call.”
What dream? Oh, oh. That dream. The dream.
It’s been two days since the trial, and he hasn't heard from Edgeworth until now. He wonders exactly what made him call.
“I just… I don’t understand. Why is it back? Why is this happening to me? Haven’t I suffered enough?” His voice breaks and cracks like pieces of rock slipping into the sea, with nothing to hold on to. Phoenix wonders too. Why, why. If anyone deserves one peaceful night, it’s Miles.
“It’s not your fault. You know that, right?” He says. “Your mind is probably still fixated on it. It will fade with time, i’m sure of it.”
“You’re probably right.” Sighs Miles. “In the meantime, though, I guess I’ll have to find a way to sleep.”
He has an idea, though a little strange. “Do you want to come over here? I mean, I’m uh, at the office. I still have paperwork to do, but there’s a bed here you could take.” He figures if he’s going to be awake, he might as well do paperwork anyway. Whether he was doing it before or not.
“I couldn’t impose like that. Besides, where would you sleep?”
“Oh, I could just take the couch. It’s fine, really, you wouldn’t be imposing.”
There’s a long silence, and he feels his head swim a little. Edgeworth had better make up his mind before I fall back asleep, he thinks.
“Alright, I think I’ll take you up on that. But only if you let me buy you breakfast tomorrow. That way we’re even.”
“If you want to, Edgeworth. You don’t have to.”
“I don’t like being in people’s debt, Wright. But unfortunately, I think I require some… assistance.”
That makes him laugh, short and soft. “Whatever you say. Do you need the address?”
“No, I have it, thank you.” *click*
He stays on the line for a few moments, before shaking his head and getting up to turn on the light. Once he’s combed his hair, he pads into the next room to start some work.
Twenty minutes into reviewing case files, there’s a knock at the door. Must be Miles, he thinks as he gets up to open it up.
He realizes, in the next instant, that he’s never seen the prosecutor in casual clothes before. Even as an eight year old, he’d worn suits and bowties to class. But he should’ve known, not even Edgeworth would possibly sleep in a suit. He stands there in the doorway wearing black lounge pants, a blue t-shirt, and a grey jacket. And slippers. He didn't even know Miles owned slippers.
“Were you going to let me in?” Asks Miles, raising an eyebrow.
“Oh, right, uh, yeah.” He stammers, is speech having momentarily left him. “Yeah, uh, follow me, I’ll show you where the bed is.”
They walk past the desks and the couch, the moonlight illuminating their path fading into the light from the lamps on in the bedroom.
Miles sees the bed, unmade, and sighs. “I woke you up, didn’t I?”
“It really is fine. I don’t mind, I promise.”
“If you would have just told me, I would have just left you alone, Nick.” He says, shaking his head. “Honestly, it would’ve been much less difficult for you.”
“I didn’t want you to leave me alone.” He says. “You needed my help, and I’m glad to help you. I didn’t want you to leave me alone.”
“You’re still as stubborn as ever.” Miles says, a smile dragging at the corners of his mouth. “But… thank you, Nick.”
“You’re welcome.” Says Phoenix, smiling warmly. “I’ll be in the next room. If you need anything, just let me know.”
“I will.” Says Miles, yawning. Phoenix hears him settling into bed as he turns away and walks back out to the couch.
An hour and a half passes, but he swears its a few minutes. One second he’s filling out some release thingy having to do with Will Powers, and the next, he hears thrashing and whining from the next room.
Nearly tripping over himself with haste, he pads as quickly as possible over to the bed. In the stream of light from the doorway, he can see that Miles is still asleep. But he’s curled in on himself, shaking and sweating. Having a nightmare, another one.
He puts his hand on the other man’s shoulder, softly shaking him awake. “Miles. Miles! Edgeworth!!”
Miles gasps, waking up like coming up from the ocean waves after being pulled under. “Damn it.” He curses, slurring, sleep still heavy on his voice. “Not again.”
He doesn’t know what to say, so he doesn’t say anything for awhile. They are still, still as the rest of the night. They could be the only ones awake for blocks, for miles, he thinks. How would they know? How would anyone?
Miles’s breathing evens, and he sees his friend’s face relax, features softening in the pale moonlight. What a good thing he didn’t look like this in court. Nick might never be able to breathe if he did.
He moves quietly to get up, but he feels fingers on his wrist, soft as breaths, as ghosts. And a whispered word. “Stay?”
It’s halfway between a request and a question, as if he isn’t sure. Whether he’s unsure whether Nick will, or whether he wants him to, Nick doesn’t know. Almost like the question was for both of them. A choice, and a plea.
He sits back down, sliding into bed as much as he can, but Miles is right there. His head is on Nick’s shoulder, his arm by his side. They’re close to each other, so close. It doesn’t feel like he’d expected it to (and yes, sometimes, he’d entertained that expectancy). It’s not awkward or foreign at all. It’s not even like being reunited. It’s like they were never apart. Like raindrops from different oceans, falling into the same pond.
“Nick…”
He thinks Miles will ask him to leave. He prepares himself. But it doesn’t come.
“Do you really think my dream will go away? Is this my punishment? I threw that gun… I fired the first shot, any way you look at it.”
He breathes for a minute, gathering his thoughts before he speaks. Miles was the one to tell him to do that, anyway. Well, one of the people.
“It will fade, I’m sure of it. I don’t think the universe would punish you for an accident, especially since you were so young.”
Only silence. No objections, but also, no acknowledgements.
“Do you… Miles… do you know that it wasn’t your fault?”
“,,,”
“It wasn’t, Miles. You were a kid, and Karma was a grown man. You were trying to protect someone, and he was out for blood. There’s a difference, a huge one. You must understand that. You’re a prosecutor, you know that murder isn’t acceptable under any circumstances. Whether he was shot first or not.”
And after that, he finally sighs again. “I wish I could stop blaming myself, I really do, but it’s not so easy. I fear it may take some time.”
“Things like that tend to take time. You should get some rest, Miles.”
There’s no answer after that. And after a while, he realizes that Miles has fallen asleep.
>
When he wakes again, it’s daylight, and there’s a warm body by his side.
“You hungry?” asks Miles. “I believe we have a breakfast date.”