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When Edgeworth gave Phoenix the keys to his office and to the drawers on his desk, Phoenix had joked and asked if that was where he kept all of his secret treasures … gold bars, rare jewels, the whole “Scrooge McDuck” stash.
Edgeworth had given him one of his patented ‘you’re not nearly as funny as you think you are’ looks and said, “There’s nothing of the sort. Just typical items of value, including the files I need you to get to me, please. My meeting is starting soon and I must be there for the start of it. I won’t present for another half hour, but your prompt attention would be greatly appreciated.”
Phoenix, ever happy to be helpful, had given him a cheeky salute and made his way up to the chief prosecutor’s office. He had opened the door, walked to the desk, opened the drawer and …
Well he’s been standing here, staring in disbelief, for longer than he cares to admit.
On top of all the stacks of paper and manila folders, is a red signal samurai keychain in near pristine condition. It’s locked away in this place of importance … where Edgeworth keeps things that are significant and valuable and Phoenix is having a rather hard time breathing.
Without even thinking, his hand has drifted to the bag he’s wearing at his side where his matching blue keychain is hanging, scuffed and scraped and well-loved. How many times he’d looked at it over the years thinking of Edgeworth, thousands of miles away. How long he had spent wondering if Edgeworth still had this keychain, if he still thought of Phoenix the same way, if he was lonely, if he had forgotten …
And now, here was the evidence proving that he had kept it. That maybe, just maybe, he had the same sort of feelings or at least the same feeling of sentimentality that Phoenix has. For the first time in ages, Phoenix allows himself to hope.
Sure, since they’ve reunited Edgeworth has been … difficult, but this must mean something, right? Phoenix can’t seem to tear his eyes away from the little red mask as it sits in the drawer in front of him.
How on earth can he even mention this to Edgeworth? Surely the man has seen Phoenix’s keychain, right? Why hasn’t he said something? Maybe he doesn’t want to bring it up? Maybe this isn’t even the same keychain? But, even if it isn’t, Edgeworth has still replaced it with an identical one.
Frustration boils away as Phoenix tries to figure it out, tries to think of something to say to Edgworth when he next sees him …
And oh, that’s going to be soon.
With a jolt back to reality, he looks at the clock and sees that he has just ten minutes to grab the file and get back down to the meeting room to give it to Edgeworth.
Finally daring to gently touch the keychain, he brushes it aside in favor of grabbing the three files labeled with the name of the presentation Edgeworth is giving along with the day’s date and hurriedly closes and relocks the drawer. He refuses to let himself stare at the keychain and have a crisis any longer.
Making his way back to the meeting room, he stews in his thoughts some more until he arrives at the door. He knocks and hears Edgeworth’s voice from inside, apologizing and asking to be excused for a moment.
For some reason, the thought of seeing Edgeworth has Phoenix’s heart in his throat, suddenly worried that whatever expression he’s wearing is going to give away the fact that he was just staring at a keychain in his friend’s desk because he’s a lovestruck idiot.
The door opens and Edgeworth slips into the hall. “Wright, thank you, I’m sorry to have you go to the trouble,” he mumbles, taking the files as Phoenix hands them over.
As it always seems to happen, Phoenix’s mouth jumps about two lightyears ahead of his brain as he says, “Always happy to help, Signal Red.”
The color in question rises to Edgeworth’s cheeks in record speed as the man goes stiff, shoulders rigid with tension.
Phoenix finally gets the courage to look him in the eyes and tries with all of his might to convey that it’s alright, that there’s no need to be embarrassed, that Phoenix has held onto the one concrete example of their friendship all those years ago just like Edgeworth has and that he treasures and loves both the keychain and the man before him.
Something must come through in his gaze because Edgeworth looks even more shocked and flushed than before, “Y-yes, well … thank you,” he stutters. “For the files and …” he pauses for a second before steeling himself and meeting Phoenix’s eyes, determined. “For everything else.”
Phoenix smiles at him but doesn’t think Edgeworth even notices as he quickly turns on his heel to go back into the meeting.
Habit has him thumbing the blue keychain on his bag with a smile as he turns to leave the prosecutors building. It might not seem like much, but at least it’s a start.