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Chapter Text

God, it hurts... it hurts so much...

A painful groan escaped from the chapped lips of the haggard shipwrecked soul, his dark lashes fluttering over his pale blue eyes which winced under the hot tropical sun. Nausea quivered in his gut like an angry bull, aches and sores twisting from him the very ability to move from his scorching grave. His trembling hand fisted the ground beneath him, feeling only the dry, rasping sand as it slid between his fingers. Assorted colors danced in his vision, and though groggy, the young man was coherent enough to realize that there was something terribly wrong with his body and his vision.

A shadow passed over him, relieving him from the ruthless sun, and he quietly thanked the angel who provided him shade. If only he could see who it was...

YOU~! The word swam into his consciousness, his recognition of the word delayed. WhaT are YOU! doIng hERe~

You? he wondered. Me? Somehow a connection did not click and with a dawning horror, the haggard mind realized that it did not recognize the person that this angel was accusing him of being.

His breath was like raspy husk as he breathed out, “Yo-u... know-me?” The shadow above him shivered in the heat. “Plea-se- I can-t -emember...” For a long time, the shadow didn’t answer. Vaguely, he wondered if he was on the verge of death and this shade was the grim reaper dwelling upon him in limbo. Or was he already dead and somehow in his nonexistent past, he had deserved this nightmarish hell.

YoU don-t RemeMber? it asked. It could have been confused or angry or even happy for all his addled brain could figure out. Instead, he rasped a simple ‘no’ in reply, holding back the tears of frustration and the agony that was still shooting through his body. If this person didn’t know who he was, he didn’t know what he was going to do. ~FeEniks: YouR naMe is FeaNix...

His brow drew into a tightly knit frown, his mind still attempting to discern the words, his cognition still not up to par. The title he gave him still did not register, and he wondered if it would always remain foreign to him. Hold ON, PheAniks. I wIll geT YOu some Help. Just SLepp. The voice, he realized, was comforting now and a hand pressed against the bare skin of his sunburnt back, trying to soothe him as it massaged his aching skin. Pain riveted through his body from the long massages, drumming his fatigued mind into a sweet stupor.

~o~

June 17, 2024
Chief Prosecutor’s Office
7:20 AM

A silver coin danced around atop the flat and bare surface of the mahogany desk, the afternoon flashing brightly in its spinning sides. It seemed to flutter on top of the wood, as lifelike as a young butterfly drifting lazily about the desk.

A hand slammed down on the coin, swatting it like a bug.

Detective Gumshoe, a gruff but amiable criminal investigator, glanced up from his squatting position to look straight into the colorless gaze of the district’s chief prosecutor. He jumped to attention, his old, tan trenchcoat sweeping up off the floor with his broad shoulders. “Oh! Mr. Edgeworth, sir! I was waiting for you!”

“Yes, that much is apparent,” the office’s owner answered sharply, though without the venom reserved for the truly annoying pests. Albeit it was hard to get the prosecutor to respond to much of anything anymore. As Detective Gumshoe looked over the hunched shoulders of the wine colored suit and the haggard pale face of Miles Edgeworth – he could tell all was not well. His platinum hair had lost its luster and his gaunt fatigue only made his angular features all the more vampyric. Even his cravat seemed to droop.

Gumshoe knew what was the matter this day, and he felt vaguely powerless that he couldn’t do a thing about it. How could anyone make time stop after all? “So... I have the details on the prosecutor that’s being transferred,” he spoke as he fumbled for the envelope that he had received from the Attorney General’s office.

An elegant hand tapped against the wooden rim of the inbox atop the desk. Reluctantly, the detective let the envelope fall, the heavy papers snapping sharply against the wood. For a long moment, he stood at the edge of the desk, shuffling his weight from one foot to another as he tried to muster the courage to speak with the haggard attorney. Edgeworth’s void of attentiveness did little to help his cause. “...Are you alright, Mr. Edgeworth?” he finally asked, awkwardly, dipping his head so he could better gauge the prosecutor’s downcast expression.

Those colorless eyes snapped up, startling the detective. “What do you mean?” the prosecutor asked dully, “I am the same as any other day.”

Detective Gumshoe could only sigh, his heart swelling with frustration and ultimately pity for his long time friend. “It’s been five years to the day since the shipwreck. I know you still feel guilty about giving him the ticket to get him outta your hair, but with all due respect, you have to let it go, sir.”

The prosecutor, still only a young man in the middle aged detective’s eyes, sifted a hand through his platinum bangs, briefly clenching it between his fingers before he let the appendage fall to his desk. He remained silent, his eyes trained on the immobile silver coin the detective had been playing with, like a lifeless doll as he refused to brood over the older man’s words.

Once again, Gumshoe decided to make his case. “Mr. Edgeworth, please. I know he meant a lot to you, but you guys were only friends.” A sharp flicker of something ran through those eyes at his words, encouraging the detective to press further. He leaned on the edge of the desk, his face soulful and pleading. “Just think about it, for the sake of the friends who are still here.”

“Do I need to ask someone else to investigate his disappearance?” Edgeworth demanded abruptly, forcing the detective to realize that the other man had hardly been listening.

Gumshoe’s cheeks colored with anger and he slowly pulled back from the desk, his fists trembling at his sides. “No, that’s not necessary, sir,” he answered, his words tight and heated. “See you later.” Without the usual dismissal, Detective Gumshoe stormed from the room, leaving Edgeworth alone in the shivering room. Unshaken by the hasty departure, Miles stared down at the face of the silver coin upon his desk.

“Only friends...” he echoed, knowing how utterly tragic and devastating and true the words were. God, if only I was not plagued by so many ‘what if’s. A shuddering sigh escaped him and the young man rested his forehead against his hands in a brief moment of weakness.

No, the day had only started, Miles knew, shaking himself from his grief. He had to make some attempt to get through the hours...

His colorless eyes glanced over to the envelope that Gumshoe had left before his undesired sermon. At least work had to be done, and gratefully there was always plenty of it. Reaching over for the envelope, Miles pulled out a manila folder from its package, quickly disposing the useless wrapping. This new prosecutor was due in little less than a week and he had barely started rearranging the prosecutor’s office to accommodate him. His old office would have to do temporarily, until he could find someplace more suitable for the new arrival. Ah, he needed a welcome package as well. He would delegate the work to one of his subordinates then.

Offhandedly, Miles opened up the file, copying the name down onto his e-mail page. He did not register the name at first, but seconds later, like a loathsome wraith, the name dripped poison into his eyes.

von Karma, Phoenix

Phoenix! His thoughts snapped upon the name he had repressed for so long, instantly conjuring an image of jet black spikes and a handsome earnest face, inlaid with sapphire eyes.

NO! No, stop it! STOP! He screamed into his own head, lashing out at his mind’s portrait with a mad fury. It cannot be him! With one last stroke, he tore the image away, realizing only then how wide his eyes were as he stared upon the name as it glared at him from the monitor, his heart racing and his breath but shallow rapid pants.

There are plenty with that name, Miles berated himself, casting his eyes away from the screen. What I should be more concerned with is this von Karma relation I have never heard of before... With barely a thought, his hand was on the phone, dialing up Franziska von Karma, the only one of her lineage that he felt relatively comfortable with. The phone rang on the other side, shivering like a death rattle, sending an ominous chill through Miles’ bones as he waited for a response.

The line clicked, halfway startling the chief prosecutor. [Hallo?] a sharp feminine voice spoke from the other side.

“Franziska,” he spoke, barely giving the younger attorney enough time for a proper salutation, “did you hear about the new prosecutor that’s being transferred into my district?”

A humm, like static over the line. [Nein, only that there is one.]

Miles paused, thinking over her response. She did not seem to be lying, though he did not know yet if there was any motivation for deception. “Well, he’s a von Karma. Phoenix von Karma...”

[Oh?] she said, not particularly perturbed by the information. [I have heard of no Phoenix in our familie. Ironic his name, though.] A mirthful laugh, oblivious to the emotions that raged through her ‘little brother’ at that particular comment. [Where is he coming from?] His gray eyes glanced over the information and relayed it across the line. [Ah München!] Franziska echoed with delight. [Wunderbar! Meine Schwester has a summer house in Garmisch! The one just at the foot of Zugsptize? It is only a little way from München. I heard that she has die Zeit vertreiben there lately. Maybe they are having good weather there recently.]

“Oh?” Miles responded, much in the same curious detached way that Franziska had earlier, coating over the strange nervous energy that coiled in his gut. He only very rarely met Franziska’s older sister and whenever they did meet, they usually did not part on pleasant terms. Quite frankly, the woman reminded him far, far too much of his sorry excuse of a foster father, Manfred von Karma. Perhaps, he was being unduly suspicious of her now, but he could not quite escape the possibility that she was up to no good. “So, is there a possibility that she knows this... certain von Karma then?”

[Vielleicht.] He could almost sense the shrug over the phone. [I can ask her, if you are interested.]

His heart thundered in his chest, his hand trembling around the handle of the phone and it took a concerted effort to keep his breathes at a cool and collected level. “Yes, that would be most helpful. I would like to at least get a feel for this person’s character before he arrives.”

[Very well, I shall call her soon and let you know.] Sensing that despite his calm tone, Miles was very interested in this new von Karma, the younger prosecutor added rather cheekily, [Bitte sehr im voraus, kleiner Bruder.]

A rough, unpracticed smile pulled at the corners of Miles mouth at the younger prosecutor’s audacity. You’re welcome in advance, indeed...  “Danke, Franziska.” Then he dropped the phone onto the receiver, falling back to rest against the soft leather back of his chair, his eyes still staring at the name upon the screen, the e-mail of delegation waiting to be sent off. He thought of someone else taking on the work, taking the man through the office and all its protocol, looking over his shoulder, accompanying him to court for his first month in the United States.

And at the thought, something sharp and ugly formed in the center of his chest, clawing its prison like a rabid animal...

On impulse, he closed the window. Yet the feeling lingered. Miles buried the heel of his wrist against his eye, determined to rationalize the sensation away. God, why are you getting possessive? You do not even know if this is him? How can it be him! In his eyes, Phoenix Wright and the von Karma family were like matter and anti-matter, complete and total polar opposites. That they should be associated in any way was simply preposterous.

Yet the chief prosecutor glanced over the file, scouring it for any clues.

Name (Last/First): von Karma, Phoenix
DOB: June 17, 1992
POB: Phoenix, AZ, USA

Education:
Zwischenprüfung (BA): University of Münster – awarded May 8, 2008
Diplom Recht FH (Master of Laws): Ludwig-Maximilians-University of Munich Faculty of Law – awarded May 16, 2012

Experience:
Prosecuting Attorney practicing in the Munich East-District Court of Law in Munich, Germany from September 14, 2019 through June 1, 2024
Served as Legal Aide for Friedrich von Karma from April 27, 2013 through August 25, 2019.
Served as Court Clerk from May 21, 2012 through April 25, 2013.

Attached:
See cases worked

A small sliver of disappointment ran through the chief prosecutor as he deducted the rather obvious reason for the incoming prosecutor’s non-German name. Perhaps his parents had taken vacation there and he was merely an unexpected souvenir. Nonetheless, he continued reading, humming as he calculated the dates within his mind. A Bachelor's when he was fifteen, a Masters when he was nineteen. Then he built up seven years of experience in the court system before he became a full fledged attorney at law. Even then, as he looked over the cases, the man won all but five of his cases and even those were only initial proceedings before the boy truly had a handle of the court.

If this man was anything but a von Karma, Miles Edgeworth would have the man immediately investigated for fraud. Given the family’s astounding number of talented personas, this one was rather mediocre compared to the rest of the line.

However, Miles could not help but feel that something was out of place, his gaze growing darker as he checked and rechecked the information. Yes, there was certainly something strange with these dates, no less than three coincidences pointedly glaring at him in the face, his alarm growing as he read them over and over again to make sure they were not a fabrication of his mind. He was not sure what to make of it, though he knew for certain that he did not like this desperate feeling of hope that had replaced the jealousy lurking within him. He could not afford to be damaged by this...

Yet against his better judgment, Miles Edgeworth never sent out that e-mail of delegation and immediately set to work on the preparations for Phoenix von Karma’s arrival, wishing that Franziska would call him back sooner rather than later.

Chapter Text

June 21, 2024
Chief Prosecutor’s Office
4:06 PM

Footsteps echoed in the Chief Prosecutor’s office, bouncing off the vaulting shelves, the nervous thuds indicative of the pacer’s mood as he frittered about the office waiting for the new attorney to arrive. The air was almost electric, vibrating with a nervous energy that simply made it impossible for him to sit placidly and do work. Instead, as the clock ticked closer to 4:15 PM, the more distracted he became, bold print blurring into an illegible mess, his keen mind unable to hold onto a single train of thought before it inevitably lead back to his guest.

To make it worse, Franziska had yet to return his call. His multiple calls. How could he walk into this with no preparation whatsoever for the man that he would meet? Was it some balding German aristocrat? Was he an unconformed brat? Would he be a new enemy? Or an inconsequential lout?

Is it...

Miles swallowed.

Is it Phoenix?

His nerves had long since started getting the better of him, suspicion and paranoia gnawing at the lucidity of his mind.

Miles’ pace grew more fervent as the clock kept on ticking, each second a resounding toll in his beleaguered mind. Franziska was avoiding him on purpose, wasn’t she? Maybe she was laughing at him behind his back? She was laughing. She was certainly laughing at his predicament. She knew something didn’t she? She and her sister were obviously in cahoots. A conspiracy, it had to be! This was all some kind of trick so that Franziska could take advantage of his weakness and usurp the position of chief prosecutor from him.

Well, he wasn’t going to let them! He absolutely refused to be-

The intercom buzzed, breaking the spiraling descent of the prosecutor’s thoughts. His secretary’s mousy voice crackled over the line. [Mr. Edgeworth, Phoenix von Karma is here, sir.]

His body grew numb, a freezing bucket of water dumped over his body and his feverish thoughts. In two steps, he was next to his desk, a finger pressed so hard against the return button that it nearly punched through. “A-all right. Send him in, please.”

And so Miles waited, silent and still, listening intently for some sign of his visitor. His heart hammered against his ears so loudly that he nearly missed the quiet footsteps that trailing towards his office.

That gait... Miles could hardly breath, staying completely silent as he heard that familiar pattern stretch along the corridor.

The door opened and Miles’ heart stopped when he came face to face to a pair of instantly recognizable blue eyes.

Phoenix!

His knees threatened to turn to jelly, falling out from under him before this ghost of years past. And he had grown so beautifully, no longer the lanky and awkward overgrown teen, filling out into a proper man. “It – it’s really you...” he whispered, pure sweet elation pouring through the blissful smile on his face and his wide gray eyes as five long years of grief had vanished in an instant. Suddenly, he was overcome with the desperate need to hold this man in his arms and know that his friend was truly, physically there.

Before he realized it, he was striding along the length of his office towards Phoenix with open arms.

Those blue eyes flashed with panic, the raven haired man taking a quick couple of steps back from the impending embrace. “Herr Edgeworth,” he spoke hastily, taking a low bow to prevent the unusual greeting. “I apologize, but I am not used to such gestures.” He straightened up, holding his hands behind his back as he began a prompt and courteous recitation. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Herr Edgeworth. I am Phoenix von Karma der München, Deutschland. I have heard a great deal about you and I willingly put myself in your care.”

What... what the hell is going on?

Miles could only stare at this stranger that sported his childhood friend’s face. His voice was mangled by a sharp German accent. What’s more this courteous demeanor and posh bearing were nothing like the Phoenix he knew.

As the fair haired prosecutor took the time to gaze upon him, he noticed the other startling changes. Phoenix’s wardrobe had been updated, the man garbed in faux military uniform, sporting an ornate royal blue jacket whose coat tails brushed along the back of his knees and the self-same lace jabot the easy-going man had always poked fun at the prosecuting attorney for wearing. And his hair... It had obviously been forced to grow out, forming a ponytail between his shoulder blades. The length made it difficult for the man’s hair to spike as it once did and long bangs framed that familiar face – though a couple barbs stubbornly remained.

No wonder no one in the office stopped him. Phoenix no longer looked like the frumpled and laid-back defense attorney they all knew, but instead was the perfect German gentleman. Yet what was worst of all, was the painful realization that Phoenix Wright did not recognize him at all...

His nerves grew numb, the chief prosecutor unable to utter an intelligible word as he could naught help but stare helplessly at this distorted doppelganger. A frown knit Phoenix’s brow, waiting for some response from his new supervisor. “Herr Edgeworth?” he spoke, his words not mended with less concern and more wariness as he canted his head to read Edgeworth’s expression. “Dich sticht wohl der Hafer?”

Only then it occurred to Miles how abnormal his behavior was. “Er, yes. Yes, I am fine.” He swallowed heavily, his colorless eyes unable to tear away from his visitor’s face. His hands trembled at his sides, forcing the attorney to hastily hide them inside his pockets. He merely nodded towards the pair of couches situated across the room from his desk, “Mr... von Karma,” the name did not come easily, thick and uncomfortable in his mouth, “do sit down. I would... I would get to know you better before I show you about the office. Would you like something to drink?”

His voice wavered despite himself, threatening to crack upon a moment’s notice.

“I will have what you are having, Herr Edgeworth,” Phoenix answered, oblivious to the other man’s distress, as he seated himself down in the center of the sofa. Phoenix always likes the end of the couch, that way he could kick off his shoes and put up his feet against my protests.

“Right, tea it is then.” Phoenix is a coffee drinker. Miles worked in auto-pilot as he prepared the tea leaves, going into a self-preserving daze to combat the desperation and disorienting confusion, along with the aching loneliness. His Phoenix was right in front of his eyes and yet now more than ever he felt so unreachable. My Phoenix? he thought self-deprecatingly. I never had him in the first place.

Twin cups of Royal Blend in his best china were delicately placed on the wooden coffee table between Miles and his guest, as he sat himself on the couch opposite the German prosecutor. No, he is not German, for God’s sake! Phoenix took the cup up in his palm, nodding with a polite, “Danke schoen,” and sipped at the amber brew indifferently. Oh good God, he even held out his pinky when he drank.

Miles Edgeworth, get a hold of yourself.

A tremor of anger reverberated through Miles’ very bones, his fingers as white as the china he was clutching. Why should I have to get a hold of myself?! He disappears for a whole five years and he has the audacity to come back and pull off this ridiculous stunt?! I have every right to get up right now and shake the answers I want out of him!

Stop it, you do not know what is going on! You do not want to scare him away!

Yet the prosecutor simply could not do nothing while this false image of Phoenix Wright threatened to break him. He still had those in his office, didn’t he? “How do you like the tea?” Miles asked, curious but trying not to seem unhealthily so. Walking back to the small cabinet where he kept his tea and china, Miles kneeled down to rummage about in the back recesses of the shelves.

“It is excellent, Herr Edgeworth. Danke,” Phoenix answered with detached politeness, more interested in his supervisor’s activity. He only blinked when Miles returned to the sofas with a small plate of... cookies.

“Do help yourself, Phoenix,” Miles gestured towards the plate, as he sat down once again. “May I call you Phoenix?”

Phoenix von Karma blushed, perhaps with embarrassment. “I... I am not used to such gestures, Herr Edgeworth. I have never spoken to my colleagues so informally.” He paused, averting his eyes from Edgeworth’s face to the unfinished cup of tea in his hands. “...H-however, you may in private if it pleases you,” he spoke in a quiet rush of breath.  

A flush of pleasure ran through Miles at those words and for the first time since his discovery, a small but genuine smile breached his cold defenses.

His blue eyes still averted and hastily searching for a distraction, Phoenix plucked a cookie from the pristine white plate and took a delicate bite out of it. However, his eyes lit up with that small taste and he took another bite from it, then another, his bites growing to healthier proportions as he polished off the whole plate in just minutes. Those blue eyes stared dejectedly at the small crumbs that dusted the small china.

“Would you like some more, Phoenix?” Miles asked with amusement.

Another blush darkened the new prosecutor’s cheeks as he furtively nodded, reviving those sweet fantasies that Miles had always secretly harbored and he suddenly found it more difficult to breathe.

However, a sharp snap of guilt accompanied his sudden ability to make the former defense attorney squirm. His old friend would have never responded to him in this way. Yet this new Phoenix was far too shy to resist reacting to the informal gestures and at the same time too courteous to actually tell Miles to halt his friendly advances. He really should not be able to take advantage of Phoenix like this when the man was obviously out of his mind.

Yet, could he really be blamed if he derived even a minimal amount of pleasure from Wright’s... vulnerability?

A smug but guilty grin stretched across Mile’s lips as he refilled the dish for his guest. “Chips Ahoy Big Chunk Chocolate Chip Cookies. Have you never had them before?”

Once the plate was set down, Phoenix instantly took to them again. “That is an exceedingly long name. And nein. I have never had these before.” The new prosecutor paused his rapid indulging.  A frown knit a crease in his brow, as he let the taste roll on his tongue. “...At least, I do not believe so. Well, perhaps I have. Maybe during my childhood. At least, I cannot recollect ever having these before. But they... certainly taste familiar.”

He seems very confused... This was a good thing.

“So, Phoenix…” Miles leaned back into the soft back of the leather sofas, his fingers knitting together as he surveyed his new charge with a critical eye. “Do tell me about yourself. You must have led an interesting life being a... von Karma.”

His guest offered a tense smile. “Truth be told, there is not much to say, Herr Edgeworth. I grew up in München under the care of meine kusine and then went into the family business and became a prosecutor. I am hardly as accomplished as Onkels Friedrich and Manfred, or Kusine Franziska. Or even yourself. I do not have a perfect record, nor did I start out at a young age. Then again, I suppose only Onkel Friedrich still has his record.”

The humor in Miles’ mood washed away. “Ah,” he uttered intelligently. Did Phoenix actually believe what he was saying? “...You grew up in Germany...” Who told him such lies?! “With... with whom?”

The smile grew. “Kusine Benedikta and her family.”

Friedrich von Karma’s daughter. Who died six years ago. How convenient.

Miles’ eyes narrowed. “You must have been close,” he said tightly. The crackles of stretching leather squealed under his hands as he gripped the arm of his sofa.

“Oh very,” Phoenix answered quickly, with an enthusiasm uncharacteristic to his new quiet demeanor. “We were friends since childhood when I was taken into the family.” The raven-haired attorney reached down to the gold chain that hung across his vest pockets, pulling out an ornate gold locket. His smile became so unbearably gentle as he unclasped the lock and presented his supervisor with the delicate portrait of a young, pretty aristocratic lady with rich brown curls and deep blue eyes.

“She is beautiful, isn’t she?” he spoke softly, his expression wistful as he looked upon the petite picture, gazing back into a fabricated past. “We were to be married.”

Something in Edgeworth snapped at those simple words. A fake fiancée. A fantasy. A lie. Yet it earned the tenderness in Phoenix’s eyes, the softness in his cultured voice, that smile reserved for a lover…

It did not belong there .

“Stop it.” The raven-haired prosecutor glanced up at the low guttural growl and his eyes grew wide with alarm as though he could see the very manifestation of Edgeworth’s fury torrenting about him like a flame. “I have tolerated this game thus far, Wright,” Miles hissed, his hands digging into the couch so tightly his knuckles were pure white, “but I will not stand for this – this farce any longer.”

“Right? Game?” Phoenix echoed, quickly snapping the locket away and holding it tightly within the palm of his hand for safekeeping. “Herr Edgeworth, I have no idea what you are talking about.”

“Stop calling me Herr Edgeworth, Wright!” Miles bellowed, his voice quaking off the vaulted ceiling. “My name is Mr. Miles – Fucking – Edgeworth!”

“O-okay,” Phoenix responded timidly, shrinking back into the couch. Then he blinked. “W-wait, are you calling me Right?”

A fist slammed down on the arm of the leather sofa, silencing the stammerings of the foreign guest. In a quiet fury, Miles stood from the sofa and stalked towards his desk, unlocking the lowest mahogany drawer. In but seconds, he pulled out an old photograph, the once white edges curled and yellowed, though the depiction itself was in pristine condition. Before he knew it, he shoved the picture in front of Phoenix’s nose.

“This is Phoenix Wright,” he spoke in a voice barely audible though the other man heard every word he spoke. “Surely, you must have heard of him. The man who ruined the von Karma name? Your life is a sham, Phoenix von Karma, because the one who orchestrated Manfred and Franziska von Karma’s downfall was none other than you!”

Phoenix was silent.

His blue eyes glanced over the photograph but inches away from his nose, before a hand rose to pluck the picture from Miles’ hand. He gave it only a superficial glance, before his sapphire eyes turned a dull and angry gaze upon the fair haired attorney.

“...I have to admit there is a remarkable similarity, Mr. Miles F-ing Edgeworth,” the raven-haired prosecutor replied testily. “However, I am not Phoenix Wright of Los Angeles, California. I am Phoenix von Karma der München, Deutschland. A von Karma. I am a prosecuting attorney. I have never set foot in the United States.  And I would most certainly not strip both Onkel Manfred and Kusine Franziska of their perfect records.”

In one sudden movement, he crushed the photograph within his hands and threw it at his verbal assailant. The white ball flew past Miles’ shoulder, only a hair’s breadth from hitting him in the face.

Phoenix von Karma crossed his arms, his blue eyes blazing as steel shot through his bones. “I had heard that you held a great deal of animosity for the von Karma family, but I had never imagined that you would stoop to such levels to try to defame yet another of our line. So if you would be so kind, Herr Edgeworth, I would like to halt this farce as well and be shown to my new office so I can forget your baseless accusations and get down to work.”

The chief prosecutor could do naught but stare helplessly at Phoenix in the face of the unexpectedly violent reaction. With dawning horror, Miles realized that he had somehow evoked the flame of determination within his childhood friend. A stubborn spark that, if given enough fuel, would become an unstoppable conflagration. He had seen it far too many times before, when Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney became so emotionally involved in the case he worked, giving it all to get the verdict that he wanted.

And it meant no matter what Miles said now, Phoenix was not going to listen to him.

What have I done?

Edgeworth felt physically ill, his whole body trembling from his shallow breaths and the fire in his veins. But most of all he was sick with self-disgust at his lack of self-control that curled in the pit of his stomach as a sudden bout of nausea. His hand shook as he stooped down to pick up the discarded photo from the burgundy floor, despair threatening to get the better of the hard and collected prosecutor.

No, all was not lost. This was merely a challenge to his abilities as an attorney. Wright called these accusations baseless? Well, Miles Edgeworth was not the District Chief Prosecutor for nothing. He would get the evidence he needed and he would flaunt it in Phoenix’s face, even if he had to go all the way to Germany to get it.

Do not worry, Wright. I will find so many contradictions in your story that you will go sick with disgust from your unintentional lies. Then you will believe me and then I can bring you back to your true life once more.

His expression as cold as ice, Miles calmly smoothed out the crumpled photograph and stored it away in the inner pocket of his magenta jacket. “Very well, Phoenix,” he spoke with a deadly calm, ignoring the small wince from the other man at the informal name. “Since you are so eager to settle down, I will show you to your office.”

The wariness was still in those blue eyes. Perhaps to stay for good. “Well... good,” Phoenix said carefully, his hand still holding onto that infernal locket. “I am glad we agree on something.”

Edgeworth nodded curtly. “If you would just wait in the lobby for a moment. I have a phone call to make and I will accompany you.”

The raven-haired man simply stayed put for a couple uncertain seconds, before he nodded and hastily exited the large room. Scarcely before the door shut behind him, Miles’ hand was on the phone booking a plane ticket to Germany under the name of a Mr. Gumshoe.

Chapter Text

June 28, 2024
Prosecutor’s Office
7:47 AM

There was only one thing to explain it. Herr Edgeworth was attempting to bribe him.

And if that wasn’t pathetic enough he was trying to do it with food.

Phoenix von Karma’s face grew gray as for the seventh morning he spent in the United States, Miles Edgeworth was waiting outside his office and/or home, waiting in hand with a small bag of treats. And it was guaranteed to be delicious. All throughout the past week, Herr Edgeworth had shown up without fail at breakfast, lunch, and dinner, propositioning him with a whole number of American delicacies. Like cinnamon buns, hamburgers, ramen, clam chowder, pizza and even more of those Chunk... Cookie... things... whatever they were called.

Out of principle, the German prosecutor had to refuse him each time. Yet instead of the man simply disposing of the goods, his supervisor would just leave them on his desk, trying to tempt him as together they went through the different formalities of the US legal system and started arranging evidence for his first trial.

In spite of his dignity’s protests, Phoenix wondered what the other man had brought him this time. It smelled amazing and despite himself, his mouth began to salivate as his stomach protested for the waiting goodies. Verdammt! He knew he should have not skipped breakfast today!

Phoenix didn’t know how Herr Edgeworth could tempt him like this. Frankly, he did not like the man one bit. True, he was intelligent, well versed, witty when he wanted to be and he was breathtakingly confident in his work. So much more so than Phoenix ever felt as a prosecuting attorney at least, he admitted with resentment. Miles Edgeworth was everything that he had imagined from the stories. But... but the fair haired prosecutor kind of freaked him out actually.

Of course, that could have been from the bout of insanity that Herr Edgeworth had displayed some days prior.

His blue eyes peeked around the corner, peering over at his supervisor and wondering if he could somehow outwait him. However, his supervisor was proving to be just about as stubborn as he was, staunchly waiting in front of the door like a steadfast soldier. So he was forced to stay in his hiding place around the corner to his office, hiding away from the man like a meek rabbit.

Internally Phoenix sulked. This wasn’t fair. He was a von Karma, for Heaven’s sake! This was utterly humiliating, being chased about like this!

He did not dare tell a soul about the verbal attack on his first day or this constant stalking. He was a von Karma after all, and consequently not terribly well liked recently. It was his duty to restore honor to the family name and there was simply no way that he could do that if he whined about being harassed. No one would probably believe him either. Once again, his blue eyes glanced around the corner, seeing no change in Miles F. Edgeworth’s stance.

Damn pink touting fop, Phoenix inwardly cursed at him.

...He seems like he’s making an effort though.

Oi, that’s your stomach talking.

Still, truthfully he had to be somewhat flattered by the pursuit. Herr Edgeworth was being incredibly persistent in trying to win him over. What’s more, in all this time, the chief prosecutor had yet to bring up Phoenix Wright again, even though the German prosecutor could just see the desire to do so burning in those colorless eyes. Well... among other things. Phoenix wasn’t blind, after all.

Anyone would have to be an idiot not to see what was behind those long, heated, unblinking stares. Even just thinking about it, blood rushed from his heart straight to his cheeks, the sensation like ticklish ants crawling through his veins, distracting even from the complaints in his stomach.

Phoenix von Karma, do not even think what you are thinking... or something along those lines, the German prosecutor berated himself. Herr Edgeworth is infatuated with this Phoenix Wright. The fact that he somehow mistakes me for that... abomination, does not entitle me to – to stuff I am not supposed to think about!

With a sigh, Phoenix reached for his golden locket, flicking it open with one hand to gaze upon the beautiful visage of his late fiancée, wondering what she would say. Onkel Friedrich would certainly disapprove of anything less than cold and passively aggressive conduct when it came to the family traitor, much less being politely professional with him. In fact Onkel Friedrich may just fly all the way from Deutschland to come fetch him if he ever heard that Herr Edgeworth was stalking him like this. Followed with some sound beating for good measure. His back ached to think of it.

His eyes glanced down at his watch. 8:13... He was officially late for work. As was the chief prosecutor, but he certainly did not seem to mind.

This could not go on, Phoenix realized. And quite frankly he would never get anywhere if he remained in bad relations with his supervisor, especially a man as powerful as Herr Edgeworth. He never had really intended to get into a spat with him in the first place and the man was doing whatever he could to gain his forgiveness. And he honestly just wanted to sit down and eat while he worked and hopefully have a normal day.

I give up. You win.

Letting loose a heavy rush of breath, the raven-haired prosecutor pocketed his locket and turned the corner, striding towards his office doors. Not unexpectedly, as soon as he emerged from his hiding spot, Herr Edgeworth had turned a sickeningly smug smirk on him, letting Phoenix know that his supervisor had known he was there the entire time.

Phoenix rewarded him with a resigned glare. “What did you bring me this time?”

The crinkle of rustling paper sounded as his supervisor held up the brown bag. “Manhattan bagels with Philadelphia cream cheese as well as apfelstrudel.”

“...You are not going to give up any time soon, are you?” the German prosecutor asked, knowing full well the answer.

That confident smirk only grew wider. “Nein.”

Damn pink touting fop, Phoenix cursed him again. His fingers strummed against his thigh, thudding lightly against the royal blue material of his long jacket, at least pretending that he was deliberating what to do. After some length, he spoke but one curt word, “Fine.” However, his expression was one of a happy loser, despite his brave attempts to hide it. Opening the door, Phoenix vaguely gestured towards the magenta drenched room. “Come in, Herr Edgeworth. We can have breakfast while we go over witness testimonies.”

Miles promptly followed.

~o~

June 29, 2024
Prosecutor’s Office
12:45 PM

“Herr Edgeworth, something is rather strange about the evidence you have given me.”

Miles glanced up from his newspaper. He had settled down for lunch on the magenta sofa of his old office, content to simply watch his new charge work as he relaxed. Or otherwise keep an eye on him, watching for small cracks in this new personality to examine and pick at.

Unfortunately, thus far, Phoenix had provided him with none. It was only yesterday that they had hashed out an agreement that they would share breakfast and lunch together at work after all. The raven-haired prosecutor was adamant that he be left on his own at home.

The restriction aggravated Miles, coupled with his other frustrations: namely Gumshoe’s inactivity in Germany due to his jet lag and Franziska’s complete phone silence despite his multiple calls. He could not very well do nothing. He wanted Phoenix Wright back and his patience was wearing down to a thread. However, with his relations with Phoenix as shaky as they were, prudence called for subterfuge.

However, Phoenix was by no means a stupid man. He was bound to figure it out sooner or later.

Miles had given his transfer a nearly impossible case, one where he was sure that the defendant was not guilty. Normally he discarded those types of cases when the police handed them to his office, demanding that they come back with either more evidence or a new suspect. However, this was an inconsequential charge, filed by a dated officer trying to have his last hurrah. All the evidence pointed towards the defendant, and it meant everything if the defense won and nothing if the plaintiff lost.

In other words, he wanted Phoenix to lose on purpose.

However, right now the raven-haired man was fixing him with a dull, unimpressed glare.  “I am not a defense attorney, Herr Edgeworth,” he said, slapping a hand against the documents.   Some papers fluttered and slid with the movement. “I do not know what you expect me to do with this information.”

The chief attorney chose not to answer right away, his gray calculating eyes assessing the effect that his careful scheming had on the raven haired man.

It seemed that the stress was getting to Phoenix. Already he had discarded his long jacket, hanging it on the curved back of the crimson leather chair, dressed only in the pristine white linen shirt and a silk wine colored vest. Even his jabot was carefully folded, laying on the edge of the cherry oak desk, and his ponytail brushed enticingly over his shoulder almost pulling the collar of his shirt aside to expose the rough lines of flesh beneath.

“ –Edgeworth, are you even listening to me?”

Miles glanced up. “Hn? My apologies, what were you saying?”

Phoenix’s face was flushed, probably with frustration. He leaned his chin on top of a propped forearm, a scowl setting into his features. “Please stop being so distracted, Herr Edgeworth. I wanted to know how you expect me to achieve a guilty verdict against Herr Sanders with this drivel.”

A shrug and the chief attorney turned back to his newspaper. “I expect you to do what is right.”

A cold anger washed over the raven-haired attorney, his fists tightening and his body tense as his gaze blackened, his cruelly sharp eyes falling onto the indifferent prosecutor.

At length, he spoke, “...You must really miss your friend.” His voice was dull but cold.

“I do,” Miles answered truthfully. He did not dare raise his eyes from the gray print, though he had long since stopped reading. He waited, tense and nervous, for a response.

“...Well, that is too bad.” Phoenix began to shuffle the papers together, making more noise than necessary as his slaps and bangs snapped through the air like gunshots. Each sound made the chief prosecutor wince internally and he wonder in his stoic panic if he was going to have to rebuild their relations from scratch once more. Steeped in thought, he did not notice that his subordinate had already put on his jabot and was in the process of sliding his arms through the sleeves of his royal blue jacket.

“Herr Edgeworth.” Miles looked up, his gray eyes meeting Phoenix’s blue. “When I win this trial, I want you to promise that you will never give me such a spurious case again. Verstehen Sie mich?”

The chief attorney said nothing. He did not want to swear to such an oath, but if he did not then he had no idea what repercussions he would have to face. What’s more, he was confused by the man’s words. When he won his case? It was plain that the defendant was blatantly innocent. How could Phoenix even think about disregarding that, choosing work over his principles?

“Do you understand me?” Phoenix reiterated, in English this time. Still his supervisor would not answer and the raven-haired prosecutor was left wanting. A vacuum had opened up between them, the two prosecutors locked in a quiet standstill, both unwilling to budge, either to give or to take. The air between them was thick and tense, like shimmering fog and Miles could only wait in dreadful anticipation for Phoenix’s next move.

At last, the raven-haired prosecutor sighed, his breath shaky and he leaned over the edge of the cherry oak desk upon his palms, his blue eyes beseeching. “Herr Edgeworth, please. I do not want to keep fighting with you,” he said quietly, almost a whisper. It was only then that Miles realized how tired Phoenix both looked and sounded. The anger in his expression was but a hollow shell, conflicting feelings of frustration, fatigue and even sadness intermeshed in the quaver of his voice and the unsteadiness of his eyes.

It stoked a spark of pity within the chief prosecutor in spite of himself, tearing cracks in his ruthless stratagems. Damn it all, Phoenix. I am trying to help you!

Nonetheless, he nodded albeit unwillingly. The bright smile that emerged from the residue of Phoenix’s fatigue almost made the feeling of self-disgust worth it.

“Danke schoen, Herr Edgeworth,” his subordinate spoke, not unkindly, his eyes lit with glorious relief. His hand absently tapped the back of his seat in a self-dismissing gesture as he prepared to leave. “Well, I will head over to the Police Precinct to investigate some more. I may not be back for the rest of the day.” A short courteous bow. “So good day, Herr Edgeworth.” With that, Phoenix left, his coat tails billowing with his rapid pace as he rushed off to police headquarters.

Miles was left wallowing in a pool of regret. With a frustrated sigh, he folded up the newspaper and carelessly tossed it onto the cushion beside him, a headache pressing into his frontal lobes.

Damn it! he cursed, his long elegant fingers balling into fists. Why was I foolish enough to grant him that request! How will I set him back on the path of defending the innocent when all the defendants are going to be guilty!

“Mr. Edgeworth?” a young voice called out, his secretary, accompanied by a rapping on the door. He wearily looked up to her polite face. “Franziska von Karma is on the line for you, shall I transfer it in here?”

“...No, that will not be necessary. I will take it in the office.”

His secretary nodded wordlessly and quickly scuttled off, perhaps afraid of the tightness in Edgeworth’s voice and the anger in his colorless eyes. The chief prosecutor stood, quickly vacating his old office as he stalked towards his office, his fists still clenched tightly at his sides. Storming past his secretary’s desk without a word, he dashed straight for the phone, the plastic handle put to the test as he picked up the phone.

“Hello, Franziska,” he hissed, his tone subarctic. “Finally decided to call me back, did you?”

[Ah ja, about that...] She sounded so disgustingly casual as she spoke. Ever the patronizing harpy. [I was just having a talk with meine Schwester-]

“Franziska, I do not want to hear it. I do not care what sort of story you and your sister cooked up, but I will not even give those lies the dignity of being acknowledged! I do not know how you could have done this to Phoenix, but I will not let you have him anymore! If I cannot bring him back to the way he was before you witches tore into him, so help me, there will be hell to pay!”

[–wait! Mi-!]

“Good bye, Franziska!”

Miles Edgeworth slammed the phone down, the echoes reverberating in the silence that drenched the vaulted walls.

Chapter Text

June 30, 2024
Chief Prosecutor’s Office
11:47 AM

Miles supposed that he had been overly hasty when he slammed the phone down on his sister.

After a great deal of thought, the chief prosecutor soon realized that taking out his frustration on her had only the temporary effect of venting out the flames of his rage, yet it had done nothing for the smoldering source of his anxiety that still thrived within him like some pestilent parasite. Even just speaking with her, he would have known whether or not Franziska had any lies to regale or if she was simply an outsider to this scheme. She certainly gave no indication that she had any part in this drastic change in Phoenix Wright earlier – unless somehow she had learned to cover that indicative smugness that lathered her voice whenever she was up to something...

Now he was sure that he would never find out. Miles understood Franziska’s shortcomings well enough to know that she would likely not forgive him for his rash words with her. No matter what his excuses, the younger prosecutor would likely give him the silent treatment for over a month, given her stubborn and vindictive tendencies.

The fair haired prosecutor groaned with the realization, letting his head fall into his palms. Yes, he definitely made a mistake... and he was not sure how he could fix it.

A rap against the door, his secretary’s signature pattern, sounded in the room, nearly startling Miles out of his thoughts. His body jerked back into functioning work mode, his back straightening and quickly reaching for the papers that he was supposed to be perusing through. “Mr. Edgeworth,” the mousy young lady spoke, finding nothing amiss as she peeked into the large office. “Stuart Ferguson is here for the 11:30 appointment.”

Edgeworth glanced at the black face of his Movado watch, a frown distorting his stoic expression. He sighed, his aura shifting to one of displeasure. Nonetheless, he spoke, “Fine,” he nearly snapped with annoyance. “Tell him to be quick about it.”

His secretary nodded quickly, sensing that her supervisor was once again in an awful tiff, not bothering to close the office door as he whispered frantically at the appointee and hustled the stout, balding man into the room. He was an unpleasant looking man with poor sweat control and wet beady eyes. His heavy frame was always decked in a either a green or brown suits that tailored to men of a lighter build, consequently  making the man look even more stretched out and portly than he actually was. Miles disaffectionately referred to him as ‘toad.’

Even just looking at the oncoming waddler, the chief prosecutor’s mood dropped even further, the man’s entrance only fueling the storm brewing in his mind.

“Yo! Miles!” Stuart smiled, Stu, he insisted on being called, as he waved and weaved about the twin sofas as he tread towards the enormous mahogany desk that Edgeworth occupied. “Sorry for being late, got caught up in work.”

That was highly unlikely.

“Is there anything I can do for you, Mr. Ferguson?” Miles asked tightly, folding his hand together on his desk, leveling a flat and heavy gaze upon the amphibian-like man.

Stu laughed jovially, unperturbed by the intimidating stare. “W-well, I just wanted to have a word with you about the trial that I have the day after tomorrow...” Oh God. “And as it turns out that one of the key witnesses is in the hospital right now for surgery and she won’t be able to show up.”

“Yes... Ms. Jones,” Miles spoke in a cold drawl, his eyes boring into the man’s thick hide. “I am aware of her situation. I also recall that this information was given to you over a month ago. And I am quite sure that I advised that you either record her testimony or reschedule the trial.”

Another laugh, loud and obnoxious like an ass’s bray. “Oh? Oh really? I guess that I never got the e-ma-”

“It was sent to you the 15 th of April at 8:30 in the morning,” Edgeworth interrupted, swinging around his flat screen monitor, displaying the tagged and received e-mail the day of.

“Oh...” Stu replied sheepishly, at a loss for words.

Mercilessly, the chief prosecutor continued his quiet persecution. “I also sent you another e-mail June 1, asking whether you had done as I had advised and you wrote back to me stating that you had it...” his colorless eyes momentarily glanced at the screen before weighing significantly down on his visitor, “covered.”

“Ahh... weeell... That wasn’t – it was true then, but my assistant...” He let out another chortle. “Well, you know how these things are. Subordinates have a tendency to fib a little when they’re trying to impress the boss.”

“Yes. Quite,” Edgeworth answered, glaring significantly at the portly fellow as he said those words.

Stu smiled with unbearable cheer. “Well, in any case, what’s done is done, eh? We just gotta move on, go on with our lives.”

Does this toad not even have the shame to look remorseful? “And how do you propose to do that when we are still mired with this minor inconvenience of having the key witness in the hospital and the deadline for rescheduling the trial already past?”

At that Ferguson beamed, oblivious to his supervisor’s anger. “Well, as I understand it, you have an in with the judge, right?” he asked, his beady eyes lighting up as he looked upon his would-be savior. “You could, ahh, just have a small talk with him. Explain the situation a bit, see if we can’t work something out.”

God, so that was what he came here for. He could have at least had the decency to show up on time if he was going to beg for the chief prosecutor to come salvage the mess he managed to himself entrenched in. Miles’ scowl grew deeper, his angular features honing in to incise the soon-to-be-retiring prosecutor with a deathly glare. “...I will speak to the judge then. And this? This will not happen again. Understand?”

“Of course, sir!” Stu responded with that same sickeningly good cheer, two fingers shooting up to his brow in a mock salute.

Why do I have to deal with these people? Oh right, because he knows the mayor... Miles all but muttered to himself, a black sneer lining the edge of his stoic expression. Dealing with these types every day made him almost wish he was back to being just a high prosecutor. “Right,” the attorney muttered darkly, “I will speak to him in the afternoon. Right now I am already late for lunch. So if you would please leave.”

Maddeningly enough, the man did not listen. “Oh lunch?” he spoke lightly. They tone in his voice was almost coy, immediately setting off warning bells in the fair haired prosecutor’s mind. “You’re eating with that new boy again, aren’t you?”

Miles grit his teeth, determined to ignore that ignorant twinkle in the other man’s eye. “I do not see what business it is of yours,” he spoke sharply as he shuffled his papers together on top of his desk.

Stu merely shrugged. “Well, I don’t really care, but y’know...” he leaned over the edge of the desk, vaguely reminding Miles of overflowing fat. “People here, they have a tendency to talk.”

“Oh?” the prosecutor countered with painfully fake curiosity.

The toad nodded sagely, crossing his arms over his chest. The action stretched his suit to even tighter lengths, its seams plainly visible. “You have to admit, you’ve been spending a lot of time with him. It makes people think things – talk of favoritism floating about.”

Favoritism? That’s a laugh. Phoenix Wright may not be a real prosecutor; however, he is doing a much better job at it than you are, the fair haired attorney mentally snapped at the smarmy little bastard. Miles did have to hand it to the confused young man – at least he was bothering to cross-reference and double check all the evidence presented to him, even if it was not for the reasons that the chief prosecutor desired.

This happens every time, the fair haired attorney thought, resigned to the situation. A talented young newcomer in the office is always subject to a bit of talk. Of course there will be some rumors running rampant. However, something about the situation struck him as a bit strange – after all, the new transfer had yet to even go to court.

Filing away that information, he turned to address the busybody before he managed to aggravate the situation. “Mr. Ferguson, I can assure you that my relationship with Phoenix von Karma is strictly professional,” Edgeworth spoke, his tone like ice. “I am only fulfilling the capacity of my responsibilities as both chief prosecutor and his immediate supervisor.”

It should have been the last word. Even Stu could feel the tonal cue ending the discussion, disappointment and a bit of skepticism painted on his face. However, he sighed heavily, his large rounded shoulders shrugging. “Sure, sure. I get the picture. Though I can see why you would want to hoard him to yourself, the kid being a von Karma and all.”

Miles froze, his face carelessly blank and his limbs turning to stone. As slow and as frightful as a seeping poison, he turned a lethal gaze towards the portly lout. “Mr. Ferguson. What exactly are you implying?” he hissed,

Only then did Stuart Ferguson realize the delicacy of his predicament, looking as though he had stepped upon a land mine and was frozen with the panic and indecision. “I – I, nothing, Mr. Edgeworth. I really didn’t mean anything by it.”

“No, Mr. Ferguson. I am afraid I cannot let it go just like that. I demand to know what you so bluntly insinuated. Now, explain yourself.”

“Really, Mr. Edgeworth. Please, I was just spouting nonsense. It doesn’t mean anything,” the toad kept on insisting. “I – I won’t tell anyone else.”

“There is nothing to tell.”

“No! No, of course there isn’t! Slip of the tongue!”

This is just making the situation worse. Resisting the urge to massage away the headache throbbing at his temples, Miles retracted from his persecution and waved the man off in dismissal. “Just... leave,” he muttered, sounding more tired than he had intended.

“Uh, yeah sure, Miles!” Stu stumbled back into his casual mode, relieved at the surprising release. “Well, you go on and have fun!” he said, doling out a small wave before he hauled out of the office as quickly as his waddling legs could take him.

A deep sigh escaped the fair haired attorney’s lips, wearily glancing at his watch. “Blasted oaf.”

~o~

June 30, 2024
S&P Bakery
12:39 PM

Pastrami and brie or ham and four cheese...

The lunch-time patrons of the upscale bakery weeded about the chief prosecutor as he stared up at the black and caramel menu. Every so often, a bright light flashed across the words, reflecting off the glass wall and doors that separated the interior from the sidewalk café in the sunny street. Normally, he found the bakery a comfortable environment. However, the loud rabble of the customers and the glass doors did nothing for his mood or his headache.

Guh, what does it matter? Phoenix can pick what he wants.

The phone rang while Miles was in the middle of ordering, ambushing him with the Pink Princess theme song. It jolted him with surprise, his wallet falling out of his hands and onto the floor. Reaching for his leather wallet, Miles then realized the ringtone was the one that he had attached to Gumshoe and he scrambled for the phone, juggling the cell phone to a niche between his shoulder and his cheek as he pulled out some bills for the cashier.

“Hello? Gumshoe?”

The line crackled, an electric screech making the chief prosecutor wince. [-ello? Mr. Edge---- you there?]

A frown knit Miles’ brow, his ears straining to listen to the other line over the din of the lunch crowd.  “Gumshoe, I can barely hear you.”

[-orry! Didn’t catch that! --- it again?!]

“I said, I cannot hear you!”

[Wha~at?]

A loud ‘ahem’ coughed in front of him, forcing Miles’ attention to the waiting cashier woman, who nearly glared at him waiting with change and paper bags. “Thank you,” he said abashedly, for apologies did not come easily to him.  Dumping the change first into his trench coat pocket and grabbing the bags with one hand, he eagerly escaped the lunch-time crowd.

“Gumshoe, are you still there?” he asked, bringing the cell phone to his ear.

A whining dial tone answered him. And despite his best efforts, Miles could not get a hold of Detective Gumshoe again.

~o~

June 30, 2024
Prosecutor’s Office
1:21 PM

Phoenix did not say a word about the time when Miles finally made it to his office. His blue eyes only briefly glanced up from his work, taking in the haggard prosecutor’s appearance, before he gave a polite nod and a quick salutation. “Welcome back.”

“Thank you,” the chief prosecutor halfway sighed as he placed the bags on top of the desk. Shrugging off his coat to place along the arm of a guest chair, he nearly collapsed into his seat. A hand raised to vaguely gesture at the bags. “Pastrami and brie, and ham and four cheese. Pick what you like.”

The raven haired attorney blinked, pulling the bags over towards him. The sound of rustling paper crinkled in the air as he opened up the bags to peek in. “Well, what do you like, Herr Edgeworth?”

A shrug. “Both, I suppose.”

Phoenix chewed on his lower lip, taking a quick peek inside the bags once more before his eyes drifted upwards. “Would you like to split the two?”

Miles blinked. Then a smirk pulled at the corner of his lips. “You want both of them, don’t you?” he teased.

“...Maybe,” the other man admitted, bravely trying to stave the flush in his cheeks. Miles laughed in reply, aiding the blush in growing worse.

“Fine, fine. I do not mind at all,” the chief prosecutor responded, his smirk stretching into a full smile. Phoenix mumbled something that sounded like a ‘danke,’ keeping his eyes averted as he shuffled to the back cabinets for some utensils.

Miles’ smile stayed, even through the redistribution of lunch and the quiet, peaceful repast. Suddenly, while he moved onto the macadamia cookie, his meal partner spoke up, distracting him. “It’s nice to see your mood is better,” he stated and if Miles did not know any better he would think it was sincere.

Only because you are my oasis, Phoenix. Strangely enough, even with all the grief that the man had been giving him as of late, Miles always found a refuge in the other man’s company. Perhaps Phoenix Wright was still a little lost, but after the initial shock, the overwhelming relief from five years of wondering whether or not the man was alive still thrived within him. He already found himself looking forward to these meals that they shared together and the quiet moments with the two of them alone in his old office.

However, the chief prosecutor played dumb, his smile turning wistful.  “Oh? Is that so? Well, I have been having a long day.”

“Oh...” Phoenix echoed. He said nothing else, though his eyes reflected his mental fumbling for some other topic of conversation. It was surprising that he had initiated the small talk in the first place, much less wishing to continue it.

In fear of the conversation trailing off himself, Miles took the reins. His teasing smirk returned in full force, his gray eyes filled with mirth. “I am surprised you care. I was under the impression that you dislike me.”

“I do,” the transfer insisted hotly, his mouth pursing into a scowl.  As though reminded of his dislike, his tears into his sandwich only became more forceful as he spoke. “However... since you are in here all the time, I would rather not have you moping.”

“I do not mope,” Miles immediately countered, his face forming a moue of indignity.

“Oh ja?” Phoenix asked and in the spur of the moment, he stood and leaned over the desk to cup Miles’ chin between his fingers. “So what do you call this then?”

Their eyes met, Miles’ wide surprised gray meeting an equally shocked sapphire.

A spark ran through them, like an electric shock and both jolted away, the other man’s back smacking his chair into the cabinets behind him. Phoenix protectively clutched his hand to chest as if he had been burned. “Ah-ah,” his voice scratched, his mind in a panic. “Verzeihung!” he nearly belted out, his head dipping in a bow of apology. “Th-that was highly inappropriate of me. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

Mutually stunned, Miles had to resist the urge to brush his fingers along his chin. The sensation of those long fingers still lingered there, as though the other man had some acidic quality to his skin. “I-it was not...” inappropriate? Actually, it was. “It was... nothing, Phoenix,” the fair haired attorney replied, carefully neutral.  “Do not worry yourself over it.” He put the macadamia cookie down among the scraps of his meal, his appetite lost to him.

“Es tut mir schrecklich leid,” Phoenix mumbled in apology once again, his eyes glued to the remnants of the meal in front of him, his posture a little too tight for just shame.

Then silence. Thick and adhesive.

The awkward tension was nearly as visible in the air as fog, compelling Miles to make a hasty retreat. Grabbing the plastic take out boxes, the prosecutor quickly disposed of them before he lay his coat along his forearm. “Well, I trust that you will make ready with the preparations for your trial tomorrow. I expect a report on it at the end of the day. Do call me if you need any help.”

“Yes, Herr Edgeworth,” Phoenix uttered in that tiny voice once more.

With that, the chief prosecutor abruptly vacated the room, his knee nearly colliding with the coffee table in his retreat. Once the office door safely snapped shut behind him, Miles shakily brushed his hand along his angular jawline, a dark blush heating the skin beneath his fingers.

Chapter Text

July 1, 2024
Chief Prosecutor’s Office
9:45 AM

The teapot clattered against the rim of the porcelain teacup betraying the trembling in the Chief Prosecutor’s hands.

Today was Phoenix’s first trial.

Well, not really. The newest von Karma had been practicing law for years now, ironically spending more of his years as a prosecutor than a defense attorney. Yet Miles could not shake the feelings akin to that of an anxious mother watching her child being taken off to kindergarten. Worry plagued him, unsure of whether or not Phoenix would do what was right when put to the public stage. Then again, perhaps he did not have anything to worry about with how unsure Phoenix was when he gave his final report yesterday.

Of course, there could have been other perfectly good reasons for the aversion in his blue eyes and the hesitation in his accented voice.

Even the faint thought of that innocent touch formed an uncomfortable, tight lump in his throat. Phoenix did not show up at the office this morning. The tea never made it to Miles’ lips, the prosecutor abandoning in favor of leaning against the frame of the enormous window splayed across the north wall, his expression pensive. The brew was left to cool next to the bag of pastries that occupied his desk, untouched. Miles did not have the appetite for even one, let alone the two servings that he had bought.

He is probably already at the courthouse, the attorney assured himself, the voice in his mind much less determined than if he had spoken aloud. Or perhaps some last minute investigating. He has always been prone to such antics. There are many perfectly reasonable explanations for his absence.

Despite his skills of persuasion, Miles could not quite get himself to believe his own words.

He’s avoiding me again. He’s avoiding me when I didn’t even do anything wrong and now I’m being punished!

Edgeworth wanted to rage at him. To simply let these irrational thoughts poison his worry into bitter resentment. Often enough his interactions with this new Phoenix made him feel as though he was dealing with a temperamental and rebellious child who deliberately refused to see his point of view or to abide by his rules. No, Phoenix was perfectly content to wallow in his little fantasy world of denial, wrapped up in the lies that the von Karma’s spun around him like a trapped fly to a hungry spider.

Well, Miles was not going to allow Phoenix be that selfi-.

‘RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR’

The rattling cry of the telephone interrupted Miles’ thoughts, startling him so that he felt his very blood jump. His eyes glanced to the caller ID on his office phone, widening when he recognized Germany’s country code. His hand snatched the handle of the phone faster than a rattlesnake and he snapped into the receiver, “Detective?”

[Mr. Edgeworth, sir!] Miles could nearly hear the salute over the phone.

“Where were you?” Edgeworth demanded coldly, his other hand tightening dangerously around the smooth shell of his favorite pen.

[Well, it was mighty hard to get a hold of you sir. Airport security confiscated my phone while I was picking up my bag. Then when I tried to use the payphone I never had enough coins to call home. Anyway, I did everything that you asked me – including sneaking into the Munich town hall archives. But I wasn’t able to actually call until I used the hotel phone and let them dial you up for me. Boy, this is going to be a pretty hefty phone bill, sir. I hope I don’t bust my credit before you take the bill, sir.]

Who said I was going to pay for this trip? Miles wondered to himself, though he was considerably calmer now. Releasing the strained bulk of his pen onto his desk, he allowed himself to relax his posture as he sighed, “Right, well, carry on, Detective. What did you learn?”

[Well, I dug up a whole lot of stuff from the town hall’s archives. I copied every document about Phoenix von Karma, Birth Certificate, German citizenship, his affidavit for birth overseas, attorney license, all his University degrees. There’s nothing else besides that.] Miles hummed darkly, running the information through his methodical processes. Gumshoe continued, taking the silence as distress. [Mr. Edgeworth, sir. I know that you want this guy to be Wright, but I don’t think it’s-]

“Does he have a driver’s license?” Edgeworth interrupted, cutting the detective’s consolatory gesture short.

The prosecutor could almost hear the buzz of dawning comprehension over the line. [Well – well, I’ll be damned! There’s no license anywhere!]

A smile stole across Miles’ pale lips, his doubts erased like a gust of wind over a pyramid of sand. “You know our creed, Detective. Find the evidence. Now I need you to take those documents to be checked for forgery,” Miles ordered sharply, his tone brooking no argument. “I have an associate in Frankfurt. I need you to get the originals and take them to him for investigation. His name is Franco Bernstein. He is a sergeant in the 13 th District.”

Truthfully, Bernstein hated him. However, the sergeant hated the von Karma family with an even greater passion and would undoubtedly help to uncover their nefarious plot. However, Gumshoe still gave pause. [Wait – the originals? How am I supposed to get those out of the archives? I wasn’t even supposed to be in there in the first place! I’ll be jailed if I’m caught!]

With a dismissive snort, the platinum haired attorney answered unhelpfully, “Be resourceful. I am sure that you can come up with some sort of plan.”

[R-right,] the detective responded, his voice and his confidence cracking. Miles could not entirely blame him. German police were rather intimidating. [I guess I better be getting to that planning then,] Gumshoe said with a nervous laugh.

“Keep in touch,” the prosecutor sternly reminded him, remembering his earlier frustration with their communication problems. With a tap of his finger, he ended the call. Miles leaned back into his leather chair’s accommodating embrace as it tilted back and shifted his line of sight from his immaculate desk to the ceiling. His thoughts were just as foreboding as the enormous vaulted ceiling that loomed over him.

Perhaps he had been barking up the wrong tree entirely. Yes, Franziska’s witch of a sister was conveniently place in Munich with her summer residence there. However, she was not nearly powerful enough on her own to be able to manipulate the civil system enough to produce not only a state identification number and a Birth Certificate, but even degrees from highly established Universities and an Attorney license. It had to be someone who could work within the state courts of course, as well as being a significant political figure.

Immediately a suspect arose from the mire of his dark thoughts, as clear and as bright as Swiss Guard uniforms. Friedrich von Karma. Manfred von Karma’s older brother – Patriarch of the von Karma family, leaving Manfred free to come to America while his brother handled the family back in Deutschland. Friedrich had every bit of Manfred’s viciousness and cunning and more. However, he was a pragmatic man, who would not endanger the family to seek personal revenge. That did not bar him from being capable of it should the opportunity for retribution fall into his lap.

More damning was that Friedrich was in fact a practicing attorney in Munich. He was also Phoenix’s supposed legal mentor and his fiancée’s father.

Every clue that Miles had so far was leading him straight to Friedrich. However, the fact that he had a definite suspect did not comfort Miles in the least. He wondered if Bernstein would be capable of taking on Friedrich von Karma by himself. The man had already gone to such lengths to abduct and brainwash Phoenix into his own making. How much further would he be willing to go in the name of vengeance? Was the revenge even against Phoenix?

The dark and irrational suspicion rose like a bubble of noxious gas. Miles was already shaking his head at the madness of the idea. How could Friedrich even know of his romantic thoughts concerning Phoenix? They barely knew each other, connecting the other simply as a close associate of Manfred von Karma. Not even his own closest acquaintances know about his more tender feelings towards Phoenix and at the time he did whatever he could to hide his embarrassing emotions. Of course, Detective Gumshoe was a terrible standard to go by.

Yet Miles could not comprehend what possible need there would be to assign the brainwashed defense attorney a fiancée, Friedrich’s own daughter no less. Why sully his family in such a fashion? It did not make sense!

Rubbing the heels of his hands against his brow, Miles fought his own exasperated frustration. Off hand, he glance at his desk clock, absently wondering the duration of his mental ponderings. His whole body gave a start, jolting with shock when he realized the time. He cursed. “I’m already late!” Phoenix von Karma’s trial was to start in fifteen minutes. Dumbfounded by his own carelessness, he grabbed his coat and hastily made his way to the office’s parking garage while all his anger and worries on the raven haired attorney’s behalf were left to incubate as the Chief Prosecutor ran out of his office in an unprecedented rush to leave.

~o~

July 1, 2024
15 th District Court House
11:32 AM

Small pants of breath escaped from Miles Edgeworth’s lips when he finally arrived at the courthouse, skidding from his dash to a dignified gait as he entered the large oak double doors and onto the black and white tiled corridors. The old hall bustled with people. Judges, attorney, criminals, family and friends, and jurors of every diversity milled about the granite floors. The wooden buttressed ceilings hummed with the echoes of their voices, sometimes gleeful, sometimes sorrowful, often loud, but ultimately solemn, akin to a spectacle of the gallows.

Miles meticulously checked that not a hair was disheveled while he strode along the hallways and towards the designated court. The armed bailiffs outside the door recognized him immediately and let him enter without a thought. The door squealed as he opened it and all the faces turned to him. It was only then that Miles realized that he had walked in on the Defense’s opening statement. Well, his timing was certainly serendipitous, he thought as he fought a smirk.

His grey eyes sought the Prosecuting Bench and was enormously relieved to see that Phoenix was certainly there. Caught like a fish on those familiar blue eyes, Miles bee-lined straight towards the bench, only stopping long enough to give a candid apology to the Judge for his tardiness. He ignored Defense.

“Glad you could make it,” Phoenix said with the barest trace of his accent. The phrase was so saturated with the man’s private but characteristic sarcasm that it sent an unnerved and excited thrill through the fair haired attorney.

Miles sat down, the cheap wooden chair letting out a short streak of noise as he pulled closer to the table. “My apologies,” he spoke quietly, “I was caught up by an urgent phone call.” His grey eyes caught onto Phoenix’s blue. “I would not miss this for the world, Phoenix.”

The tenderness in his voice came unexpectedly for both of them, thoughts of yesterday’s innocuous but subliminally sexual touch sprang to mind. Too embarrassed to admonish his supervisor further, Phoenix swallowed uncomfortably as though a fish bone was lodged in his throat and he nodded with a sharp drop of his chin. Miles suddenly remembered his earlier suspicions that the former defense attorney was avoiding him. Maybe there was some accuracy to his hysterical thoughts after all.

The judge coughed and hummed at the end of the Defense’s opening argument. “Hmm, yes, quite convincing. The prosecution will have a hard time working around that.”

By “that,” the elderly man meant alibi. Head of Gigit Motors, John Maxwell’s alibi to be precise. It was a case of the murder of a young woman named Jane Lew just a couple months ago. The murder occurred at work, at the office building Maxwell’s company owned – inside Maxwell’s office no less, done with what the police assumed to be the blade of a paper cutter. Moreover, there was rumored to be some history between the victim and the defendant, and the executive was getting married soon.

The problem was that witnesses had seen Powers leave the building to go off and buy wedding rings. One of whom was a police officer who had stopped Power’s driver for speeding. Miles snorted softly as he looked over at the quiet and demure fellow at the Defense’s bench. If the prosecutor did not know any better, he would say that the trembling sandy haired man with square gold-rimmed glasses was incapable of murder. However, years of experience both in court and out taught Miles that one could never judge a book by its cover. One had to discern the truth through hard fact rather than an intangible impression.

And the fact of the matter was that the police could not place the missing weapon in John Maxwell’s hands. In fact, they could not even place John Maxwell at the crime scene. Miles would not have been surprised if an enemy of the corporate executive had attempted to set him up, or even that the executive had planned her murder. That would bring him down with conspiracy, but the department did not even have that. The only reason why this case was even submitted was because a decrepit, old officer by the name of Toole had already arrested Maxwell and charged him, leaving all the work to the attorneys naturally.

The Chief Prosecutor glanced sideways at his colleague, wondering what Phoenix was going to do – a rather uncomfortable to be in when you were supposed to be supervising. He never had fully expected to be able to control Phoenix’s antics, so he was not too offended by the fact. It still left him slightly uneasy when the warm body beside him, decorated in that long tailed navy blue uniform, rose to a stand.

With a practiced ease and confidence ripened with years of experience, Phoenix’s voice smoothly addressed the courtroom, “As the prosecution’s first witness, I call Officer Hamada to the stand.”

Miles’ head snapped over to stare at his colleague incredulously. That was the defense’s witness! Had the man somehow forgotten what side of the courtroom he was on? Not that the notion wasn’t ideal of course… Officer Hamada, a well groomed man of Japanese descent, looked confused at the turn of events. However, he made his way to the witness stand without protest. No officer enjoyed testifying against their own department after all. Defense looked similarly confused at the proceedings, before the attorney blustered: “OBJECTION! That is the Defense’s witness!” he called out with a slam of his hand on the table.

The prosecutor turned his towards his opponent. “He must be a reliable witness then. However, I need this officer’s testimony for my burden of proof and since you already approved him then there is no reason for objection.” His cool blue eyes narrowed, daring the man to contradict him as his chin turned to a self-assured angle.

The fair haired prosecutor’s eyes widened further in shock when he saw in plain observance the evidence of strict von Karma training. The flawless pose, the near arrogant confidence… memories of his own stringent training flashed across his eyes, imposing themselves on the meticulously garbed figure in the center of the courtroom. Miles wondered what other things Friedrich von Karma must have taught Phoenix Wright, and the possibilities painted a picture too unwholesome to think upon.

“If you would proceed, Mr. von Karma,” the bearded judge declared.

Phoenix bowed lightly, the heels of his boots clicking as he straightened. “Of course, your Honor.” He turned towards Officer Hamada, his hands crossing behind his back, as he crossed the court to the witness stand. “Officer Hamada, am I to understand that you had stopped the defendant’s car on the day of the murder?”

The police officer nodded. “Yes, sir,” he spoke with a sharp matter-of-fact tone that made him ideal for an expert witness. “I stopped his car at 1:35 PM for speeding.”

“I understand that the windows on the defendant’s vehicle are tinted. Are you sure that Mr. Maxwell was in the car?” the blue eyed prosecutor followed succinctly.

“Yes, sir. I saw him when I leaned over to ask for the driver for his license and registration.”

Not at all fazed by this information, Phoenix headed to the Defense’s bench to grab a portfolio of traffic photographs, much to the defense attorney’s outrage. However, it allowed Edgeworth to gauge the raven haired prosecutor’s expression. At seeing nothing else but Phoenix’s self-same spark of determination in his eyes, Miles allowed himself a quiet sigh of relief. Perhaps the other man had not been as contaminated as he previously thought.

“Officer Hamada, since you served as a traffic patrolman for the past seven years, would you say that you could give an expert opinion on the routes in the city?” Phoenix asked as he strode back to the witness stand. The police officer nodded the affirmative. “Then could you examine these traffic light photographs which show Mr. Maxwell’s vehicle along his route?”

The court was silent as Officer Hamada took the portfolio from the prosecutor’s hands and he slowly and conscientiously flipped through the photographs. After a time he looked up and frowned at his questioner. “They look like duplicates, sir.”

The attorney merely smiled, his mind clearly conspiring on its own. “They would look like that, officer, save for the pictures by the clock shop. Do you notice something odd about the time?”

Officer Hamada’s black eyes turned back to the pictures and he flushed with embarrassment at not noticing the minor detail before. “Ah, they were taken at different times. About an hour apart.”

“Exactly!” Phoenix jumped on the detail. “One was taken at 1:24 PM before you had stopped the vehicle and the other had been taken at 2:30 PM. Now what can you gather from these photographs now that you know that they were taken at different times?”

The police officer looked at the photographs once more, far more diligent in his studying than he had been the first time to compensate for his careless mistake. “From these photographs, I would say that Mr. Maxwell’s vehicle had circled about the same routes multiple times before it made it to the jewelry store.”

Phoenix nodded sagely. “Yes. And with the receipt from the jewelry store which shows that the defendant had purchased the two wedding rings he had put on hold at 3:14 PM. However, we have statements from the witnesses at the defendant’s office that the defendant had left at 1:00 PM and arrived back at 4:00 PM. –”

“Objection!” the defense attorney cried out again, though it was not as vigorous as his first appeal. “You Honor, what is the relevance of this evidence? My client’s driver could have simply gotten lost on the way to the jewelry store. And Defense’s evidence, which the Prosecution keeps using,” he added with a dirty look at Phoenix, “clearly shows that not only was Mr. Maxwell within the vehicle, but that he had never exited the vehicle for the duration of the trip!”

“OBJECTION!” Phoenix exclaimed, making his opposition jump out of his skin. “That statement is false!” He turned straight back to Officer Hamada on the bench. “Officer, would you look at the tires of the defendant’s vehicle. Specifically at the height of the tires.”

Miles Edgeworth and the rest of the court watched with suspenseful intrigue as the police officer once again pored over the photographs. He could see the enlightenment dawn in the man’s mind as he thrice examined the pictures. Caught up in the uncovering of these new details, Officer Hamada shed his purely professional demeanor for excited wonder. “The tires! They’re higher for an hour!”

“Right! Meaning that there’s less pressure on them! Meaning that at some point the defendant had actually left the vehicle and returned to it before it made its way to the jewelry store!” The German prosecutor splayed a hand towards the witness stand where Officer Hamada and the portfolio still sat. “This so called alibi is merely an overly concocted plan to throw the police off his trail! How could his vehicle have been documented with traffic light photographs for the entire duration of the trip? And why did the defendant take three hours to arrive at his destination even though his driver was speeding?” He pointed straight at John Maxwell, his pose poised and righteous. “Your Honor, the defendant used Officer Hamada and the city’s own cameras to create his airtight alibi!”

“But he never got out of the CAR!” Defense nearly screamed in exasperation as he almost bounced on the balls of his heels, his hands raking into his thinning hair.

“Not. Out. Of. The. Doors,” Phoenix tut-tutted with a smirk, his tone both serenely calm and smug.

The entire court had to pause to think about that statement. Then Defense cried with equal fury, “He didn’t go out of the windows either!”

“No, he didn’t,” the prosecutor responded cryptically. With that, the raven haired man jogged back to the Prosecution’s bench, grabbing a manila folder among his things. Phoenix caught onto his colleague’s grey eyes, and a raw nervous smile touched the edge of his lips. Then it was gone in a flash, buried under layers of von Karma training. With a long breath, the attorney marched over towards the judge’s bench and handed a folder to the bailiff. “Your Honor, I would like to submit this statement from the crime investigation forensics team from their examination of the defendant’s vehicle last night.”

The judge looked at the document briefly, before he nodded. “I’ll allow it.”

“Thank you, your Honor,” Phoenix said with another curt bow. He turned back to the court. “This document states that an investigation of the defendant’s car reveals that there was an access point on the floor, which would allow a person to slip through to the ground below.”

His blue eyes narrowed on the defendant. “Moreover, the traffic light photographs also reveal that the defendant’s vehicle had passed over a number of manholes on its route. Anyone of which could lead back to the maintenance rooms in the basement of the defendant’s building… several of which having elevators that lead all the way up to Mr. Maxwell’s office.”

The words rang ominously in the court’s thick and heavy air, pregnant with the suggestion of murder.

Curious, the chief prosecutor glanced over at the defendant, wondering how the man was reacting to this news. The trembling sandy haired man had descended into full blown shakes, his skin as white as maggot flesh, sweat forming full beads upon his quivering brow. With a start, Miles thought that he could nearly see the man’s heart palpating out of his chest.

My God, he is guilty!

Yet Phoenix still failed to place the smoking gun in the murderer’s hands. Without forensic evidence connecting Maxwell to the murder specifically, all this evidence could only amount to opportunity, but not the damning guilt.

Nonetheless, a hush came over the courtroom, in light of this new evidence. Eyes wide and excited, the members of the court murmured quietly among themselves, their whispers like the buzzing of summer dragonflies. They slowly abated when once again the prosecutor strode towards his bench to gather up his briefcase.

Every eyes was on Phoenix von Karma, his stride as slow and purposeful as an executioner’s walk, as he traveled the course of the court back to the judge’s bench. The clasps of the leather case clapped as he opened the case. Then he pulled out an evidence bag, in which there lay the long thick blade of a paper cutter dislodged from its customary wooden board. Its metallic shaft gleamed sickeningly in the court’s lights, encrusted with rust colored blood.

“Your Honor,” the raven haired man spoke with an air of solemn finality. “I would like to submit this evidence as the murder weapon.”

“Why was this not given with the rest of the evidence in the case, Mr. von Karma?” the judge demanded, his eyes narrowing dangerously on the prosecutor.

A sly smile came to Phoenix’s face, a grin of subversive triumph. “That would be because we found it in the sewers just last night, right next to my next piece of evidence which I will be submitting now –” He turned to face the Defense bench, his blue eyes ablaze as he pointed straight towards the defendant. “– John Maxwell’s suit covered in his DNA and the victim’s blood!”

John Maxwell let out a long desperate and ultimately guilty cry, his face as white as plaster, as the court erupted into chaos. The defense attorney’s jaw dropped, unable to find any words to put up an argument. Clamor and shouts burst from the witnesses and family members within the courtroom, as the judge pounded his echoing gavel on the podium, calling for order. The defendant’s fiancée, her white face quickly turning tomato red, marched up to her betrothed and slapped him hard across the face in righteous fury. The bailiffs’ heads whipped about the scene, uncertain of what course to take.

Meanwhile, Miles Edgeworth could only stare wordlessly at Phoenix von Karma – no, Phoenix Wright – in his glorious turnabout victory.

Not even two hours later, Maxwell was pronounced guilty.

~o~

July 1, 2024
15 th District Court House
3:48 PM

The two attorneys left the court house out the back entrance to avoid the media. The city streets were still congested with daytime traffic and the din of the frenzied journalists and photographers could be heard even from the other side of the prestigious building. As soon as the two were safely distanced from the building, the Chief Prosecutor caught Phoenix by his coat’s navy blue velvet sleeve. Fearing this, the German prosecutor nonetheless wordlessly turned around, his blue eyes both expectant and resigned.

Phoenix knew that Herr Edgeworth would be far from happy. His heart sunk down to his leather boots like a lead weight at the thought of facing Herr Edgeworth’s disappointment. If only the fair haired prosecutor knew how crushed he felt after their initial meeting, his encounter with the famous (or rather infamous) protégé of Manfred von Karma, their adopted family member, ruined by the seductive memory of a lost disgrace of a man.

He had worried all of last night about the inevitable confrontation with his supervisor, even as he trekked through the city sewers to look for the murderer’s discarded clothes and weapon. Irrationally, he nearly believed that Herr Edgeworth would not come to his first trial out of pure resentment. The very thought of his great debut, his complete turnabout, demeaned by Herr Edgeworth’s unreasonable expectations nearly made him want to cry in frustration.

The heels of his leather boots clicked together as he fully faced Miles F. Edgeworth, waiting for his admonishing words.

“Congratulations.”

Phoenix gave a visible start when Herr Edgeworth spoke with a voice like warm liquor and his colorless eyes shone as bright as diamonds. He stared incredulously as the Chief Prosecutor extended his hand. “I… you… you are not unhappy with me for winning, Herr Edgeworth?” he asked, his fingers trembled even as he fisted his hands, his heavy heart distressed by a tiny shred of hope.

“Phoenix,” Miles spoke with that warm liquid sincerity, “you are an amazing prosecutor. It would be an injustice if I belittled that in any way.” His fingers moved just slightly, bringing the raven haired man’s attention back to the proffered hand. “And I would be honored if you would accept my congratulations.”

The junior prosecutor’s cheeks brushed with rosy wine and his fingers still trembled slightly as he took Miles’ warm hand in his own. Overwhelmed, Phoenix thought that his eyes might tear up anyway as his mind alit with all the words that he wanted to say.

No, I’M honored by your acknowledgement! – You don’t know what it means to me! – The only reason why I moved to America was to meet you! – I love the way that you’re looking at me right now…

Thankfully, the hammering of his heart in his throat constricted his voice from blurting any embarrassing details. Instead, all he managed was a simple, “Danke schoen, Herr Edgeworth.”

A brief smile stole onto the Chief Prosecutor’s features, though the expression took on a bittersweet undertone. “And as promised, I will no longer give you anymore cases like that. No more possible conflicts of conscience for you,” Herr Edgeworth murmured self-deprecatingly.

Phoenix paused at the thought, a slight thread of alarm coursing through his veins. “M-moment mal,” he said, holding up a hand to catch the thought. “You do not need to be so hasty, Herr Edgeworth. I need to apologize for what I said before.” His cheeks colored even further, the dusky rosé nearly becoming burgundy. “I should not have been so quick to dismiss the case and the opportunity that came with it. Also I… it feels… good to bring justice in the courtroom, even when the odds are stacked against me. I-In fact, it’s exhilarating,” he said in breathless reverence.

Nothing could replace how his heart pounded in that courtroom, how his heart leapt when the judge pronounced the murderer guilty and justice was served. A smile came to the junior prosecutor’s face at the remembrance. “I am willing to take whatever case you are willing to give me, Herr Edgeworth. I will not fail you.”

Herr Edgeworth dropped his shapely jaw in astonishment. “I, you, really? Oh,” he stuttered intelligently before he made a rhetoric recovery. “Well, I will be looking forward to working with you in the future then.”

Phoenix’s smile grew wider, “It would be my honor,” he said with a flourished bow, his long strand of hair rolling over his wide shoulder with the fluid movement.

When he straightened, the two stood in a pregnant silence, both unwilling to initiate their parting even though they realized that it was inevitable. Herr Edgeworth shifted his weight from foot to foot, his gaze darting from the concrete to his colleague and back as quickly as the wings of a hummingbird. Phoenix was similarly torn. He knew that he admired Herr Edgeworth and he secretly reveled in all the attention that the elegant and devastatingly attractive attorney had seen fit to give him.

Yet he knew that the only reason why Herr Edgeworth paid him half as much attention was because of his misguided belief that he and Phoenix Wright were one in the same.

But Herr Edgeworth had just acknowledged him as a prosecuting attorney. That had to count for something. Right?

Suddenly, the fair haired prosecutor brought him out of his thoughts. “It is a bit late to get back to the office,” he said with some reluctance as he glanced at his well worn Movado. “I suppose that I should head back home.” His expressive grey eyes glanced up at Phoenix, wavering on an unspoken thought. “…See you next week, Phoenix,” he finally said after a time. He hesitantly turned towards the nearby parking garage.

Phoenix watched him, his voice mute with indecision as every step Herr Edgeworth took put more distance between them. An odd feeling stirred in his gut, like the uncomfortable pulsing of a cold heart, as he did naught but watch as Miles Edgeworth turned the corner and disappear from sight. A sigh escaped him, though the strange squirming within his gut refused to relent as he walked towards the bus stop.

Chapter Text

Phoenix only found out about Miles Edgeworth by accident.

No one in the von Karma household spoke of their ill-begotten foster child. The orphan that Manfred von Karma had so generously opened his home to, despite the fact that he was the son of his greatest rival. Particularly after the execution. Some said that Onkel Friedrich used to smile before then. Before his daughter and his brother were stolen away so painfully from him.

It seemed an impossibility now.

Phoenix was still living in the summer home in Garmisch, while his fragile mind was still being retaught everything he’d learned under Onkel Friedrich’s tutelage. They had yet to train him out of his tic of pointing out inconvenient truths, derailing the narrative for a seamless prosecution. “Stop making a mess of the story!” Onkel Friedrich scolded him. (It didn’t help that Phoenix’s language faculties were also severely weakened by his accident, which meant Onkel had to also beat the German back into him mercilessly.) “The narrative is all, Niko. The judge and jury are weak-minded and must be fed the most convincing truth! Guide the narrative and stick to the story the police gave you! Leave no room for doubt!” Prosecution von Karma 101. Everything else was coming back to him so easily, save for that.

It was after one of these rather fraught teaching sessions, when Phoenix was on reprieve from his mental and corporeal punishment, that he overheard something he was clearly not meant to hear.

Everything smarted as he carefully strode down the darkened hallways of the summer home, the only illumination from the dappled sunlight that came from the canopy of trees that surrounded the private residence. The hall was strangely devoid of servants, who were likely busy with the evening meal. All the same, he did not want to make a single sound so as to not redirect his Onkel’s ire on him again so quickly. As it was, he was passing by the library, as quiet as a mouse, when he heard:

“...nothing like Miles Edgeworth. .....Yes... ....Yes.... No, he is far from ready....”

There were enough pauses that it was clear Onkel Friedrich was speaking on the phone. Unfortunately, his mind was still too befuddled to understand most of what was being said in his native German tongue. However, the name Miles Edgeworth stuck. Who was he? Why did it sound... familiar?

Phoenix knew better than to ask Onkel Friedrich directly. So, once the severe man was away back in München for work, he turned to Kusine Josephine in whose home he was actually staying while he recuperated. She was hardly more cheerful than their Onkel, the cold solemnity seeming to be a family trait that everyone but he inherited. Easy enough to explain when Onkel Friedrich called him a brain damaged fool on more than one occasion. (Granted, he was.) However, Josephine was kinder, if in actions only and not in words. As much of a taskmaster as their Onkel, she took to his education on social graces while Onkel Friedrich only tended to his legal mind. Yet she taught with high expectations and bitter looks of disappointment, rather than threats. A far more compelling method of teaching that made him want to rise to her meticulous standards, eager to please the one that saved his life.

Checking himself, he made sure that not a hair was out of place as he sat across from Kusine Josephine over tea. Well. As much as he could with his treacherously barbed hair. He was careful to sticking to protocol, mostly silent as they took in the scenery on the patio overlooking the majestic Zugsptize. He watched her surreptitiously, waiting for some kind of sign from her stoic expression or her sharp grey eyes. As ever, she was elegant and poised, almost beautiful, if she would ever let any warmth into her expression. Yet it made her magnetic charisma undeniable. After a long moment of study, she looked him over, then gave the barest of nods.

Relieved, Phoenix let out the breath he’d been holding. Only then did he think it safe to speak. “Kusine Josephine, could I, ah, talk with you?” he asked, his German still somewhat broken. Josephine raised a lofty eyebrow. “Er, question, please?” he revised.

Josephine gave him a Look. She was likely debating whether or not to rebuff him until he could formulate his question properly. However, she seemed in a charitable mood, so she replied, “Speak.”

“Who is Miles Edgeworth?”

All at once, Kusine Josephine’s demeanor transformed. Her almost gentle visage went as sharp and as ugly as a gorgon’s face, her mouth pulled back into a snarl and her eyes became as unyielding as steel. “Where did you hear this name?” she hissed, with a voice that threatened to pour acid into his eyes.

Never expecting such a reaction out of such an innocent question, he yelped, “Ah! Onkel Friedrich! On the phone, he- I’m sorry!” He bowed his head in apology repeatedly. “It was a mistake. I swear. I didn’t mean to-”

Ignoring his broken words, Josephine grabbed the exposed nape of his neck and clawed her fingers into his hair. She wrenched his face upwards, the only time she’d laid a finger on him, until they were nose to nose. “You will never speak of Miles Edgeworth ever again. Do you understand me?” When he only gaped at her, her grip grew tighter. “I said, do you understand!”

“Y-yes! I got it! I got it!” he cried, letting out a pained yowl as she clawed him again, just before releasing him. Rubbing the back of his neck, that he was sure was bleeding, Phoenix looked up. Only to see that Josephine had gone back to her perfectly refined state. As if nothing had happened.

Thank God he’d asked her and not Onkel Friedrich.

Phoenix never asked again, obviously. However, months later when he was finally installed back in München to begin practicing law (again?), he finally had just the tiniest bit of breathing room. Not much, since he now lived with Onkel Friedrich full time in his grand townhouse in the city. Not to mention, he was the man’s disciple in the public prosecutor’s office. Worked to the bone as a new blood no less, as part of his rite of passage. But he had his own computer. Which meant he had internet.

In one very, very rare instance where Onkel Friedrich was out investigating without his assistance, Phoenix turned to the internet to the question that had long plagued him. Who was Miles Edgeworth?

The answer stunned him. With growing horror, Phoenix read through all the articles of their family’s shame and downfall. The scandal that rocked the legal courts in multiple countries. It was no wonder that Miles Edgeworth was reviled. He had betrayed their family, giving in to a duplicitous defense attorney, bringing utter ruin to Onkel Manfred, Josephine’s father, and tarnishing the family name. His gut clenched, shaken and uncertain as he read through all this. It explained much. Why Onkel Friedrich was so angry. Why Kusine Josephine was so sad. Why there was no happiness in the von Karma household. Why he had to work so much harder underneath an overwhelming sense of duty.

Yet... who was really to be believed?

There were little to no pictures of the proceedings. The German media didn’t get much other than pictures of Manfred von Karma being walked out of the American courthouse in ruination. However, morbid curiosity compelled him to look just a little deeper before Onkel Friedrich returned to the office. He wanted to know the face of the one that had caused their family so much grief. After a few clicks, he found it. Phoenix sucked in a sharp breath.

No one told me he was so handsome.

The traitorous thought seared through him, making him rivet and blush fiercely. Before anyone could see him, he wiped the search history and snapped the laptop closed. Yet, his heart continued pound, nerves alight with energy and fire. Confused and conflicted, he did the very best he could to ignore it and continue on with his work as if nothing ever happened.

Except he couldn’t.

A seed had been sown. A rebellious streak, fighting against the strict tutelage and regimen that Onkel Friedrich subjected him to in his quest to turn him into his perfect protégé. Phoenix understood it. That in being fiancé to Onkel Friedreich's daughter, he was basically the man’s stand-in son. A replacement for his bereavement and Onkel Friedrich’s only living legacy. He was the family’s last hope. However, the strain was getting to him and he could only imagine that it was made worse by all the tragedy that Onkel Friedrich suffered, including Phoenix’s own loss of memory. He just wished that he could remember a time when Onkel Friedrich could have been kind.

Why am I so bad at this? he often wondered, as he lost case after case in court. Onkel Friedrich was permanently plum red with rage as he railed into him for being such a failure of a von Karma. Three losses in a row was absolutely unheard of.

Nothing like Miles Edgeworth, Onkel Friedrich had said once, the words echoing back from that hazy memory.

How did you do it? Phoenix wondered, as he was left to read dizzyingly small print in old legal cases as part of his punishment. Miles Edgeworth, how did you endure this? It was 2 AM, dark and empty in the prosecutor’s office. Not even Onkel Friedrich was here. Which meant it was safe.

A disturbing thrill went through him as he set his book aside and once more searched for the traitor. First and foremost were the articles on the scandal of course, but as he delved further he learned more of the man himself. Former Demon Prosecutor turned Virtuous Chief Prosecutor. Strangely, it was only when his win rate had shattered that he seemed... happier. His creases had unruffled and he only grew ever more attractive. Phoenix’s cheeks stained pink, he nonetheless dove on and went on to study Miles Edgeworth’s career.

He... He’s no von Karma.... Phoenix decided, as he looked over the cases and legal proceedings. Miles had that same tic, that compulsion, to look at all the inconvenient truths. In the article where he became Chief Prosecutor, he said, ‘I’m going to change how things are run. We must hold ourselves accountable to thoroughly examine the evidence and have undeniable burden of proof. I will have absolute zero tolerance for those corrupt who would fabricate evidence just for a win. That is the only way that we can ethically move forward.’

More work. Less cases. Yet it made the wins all the more meaningful.

That’s what I want to do, Phoenix thought, his heart tight in his throat. That’s the way I want to win. Onkel Friedrich hadn’t suggested anything like fabricated evidence... yet . However, the pressure might very well have cracked him if... if he hadn’t found another way. Miles Edgeworth’s way.

From that night on, that was exactly what Phoenix did. Subtly, at first, so as to not raise any suspicions in his so-called mentor. He pushed back, bit by bit, on the cases that were assigned to him. Asked meaningful questions, annoyed the heck out of the police, changed the narrative. Before the case ever went to trial. The only way that he was going to win was with the truth.

It only made his first win since his memory loss all the sweeter.

Even grumpy Onkel Friedrich couldn’t argue with results. The silver haired titan simply regarded him sternly outside the courtroom, arms crossed as he considered him. “Unconventional,” he gruffed, almost suspicious. However, before Phoenix could panic, he laid a heavy hand on his adopted son’s shoulder. “Good work, Niko. Just keep winning. You’ll restore our name yet.” For the first time since before he could remember, Phoenix answered him with a wide smile.

With more wins came more freedom. More confidence. More prestige. More approval from his hard to please Onkel. Yet with each success, he felt like he was always two steps behind his counterpart in the United States. His admiration for the man only grew. He had this crazy notion of writing to him, but quickly discarded that idea lest he seem like some vapid fanboy. He highly doubted that Miles would respond to a random von Karma regardless.

One day, epiphany struck. The only way that he could catch up to Miles is if he was in proximity to him. Learning directly from him. If he was to fully bring the von Karma name back into the light, this was the way to do it.

Phoenix worked on his transfer in secret. Equivalencies on the bar. Recommendations, campaigning, casual name dropping. Thankfully they were in dire need of prosecutors since Miles Edgeworth cleaned house. Finally, he received a letter from the California State’s Attorney’s office, from Human Resources.

Not a day later, his bags were packed and he was on a plane to Los Angeles. He gave no notice to Onkel Friedrich, save for a letter that he left behind at the office. His Onkel would have found some way to stop him. He would let him know where he was later. Much later. He just hoped Kusine Josephine would forgive him.

For better or for worse, he had irrevocably changed his life forever.

However, he could have never predicted what was to come.

Chapter Text

July 8, 2024
Chief Prosecutor’s Office
10:31 AM

His accent keeps slipping.

Miles looked up from the report in front of him, eyeing the other man dressed in his royal blue military jacket as he gave his status update in the Chief Prosecutor’s office. It had been about a week since the fateful trial, when everything had changed. The difference in the other man was like night and day. Before, Phoenix had been severe, suspicious, tense and unapproachable. Too much like a von Karma. Now, however, the raven haired attorney was bright, eager and open. He tackled his assignments with enthusiasm, easily becoming one of his very best prosecutors with three straight wins this past week. (He’d always known that if Phoenix had a proper work ethic, he’d be a force to be reckoned with. Plus he always got his man.) Now he was relaxing enough that even his German accent was slipping into an American one.

Was acknowledgement all you were really after? Miles wondered as he thumbed absently through the papers, Or maybe this is the way it could have been if we had gotten off on the right foot.

“Herr Edgeworth? Are you listening to me?”

The fair haired prosecutor looked up, finding Phoenix’s face contorted into a moue of irritation. He’s pouting. Miles suppressed a smile, hiding it behind a cough. “Yes, of course. Please continue.”

Phoenix narrowed his eyes. Damn, but could he spot a bluff when he saw one. “Are you really my age, because it seems like you’re going senile.”

Miles stiffened. And there was the irreverent sarcasm. Another slip. Suddenly Herr von Karma remembered himself (or rather his manufactured self). “V-verzeihung, Herr Edgeworth!” he said with a series of short bows, white with mortification. “I don’t know what came over me!”

Back to German again. With a mental sigh, the chief prosecutor waved him down with a placating hand. “Phoenix, please. It’s quite alright.” Well aware this was likely how the favoritism rumors were circulating through the office, he wasn’t about to let that stop him from coaxing his true Phoenix out. “I don’t mind light banter.” Well his anyway. “I like knowing you’re comfortable with me,” he added, giving his dear friend a serene smile.

Phoenix suddenly went very pink, his striking blue eyes astonishingly wide. The sight of it made his stomach coil with hunger, heat singing through his blood like warm liquor. Once again, Miles had to repress it, biting his tongue as he reminded himself that Wright would never be affected this way if he were in his right mind. That this could still be some kind of trap. Yet could he help but react to the sight of his darkest fantasy made real? Phoenix, so vulnerable, so earnest, working underneath him...

A sharp tremble ran through him. Slowly unfisting his hands to keep crescent scars from forming on his palms, Miles interlaced his fingers on the desk in front of him. If he didn’t do something about this soon, he could very well lose his mind. “Phoenix, I was wondering...” he waited for the other man’s focus to center on him, “Now that you’ve settled in for the most part, would you be interested in a welcome dinner?”

The question startled the raven haired prosecutor, who only went pink again. How on earth could he bluff with such an expressive face? “Ah... a-alone? With you?”

Their work breakfasts and lunches together had been quite... charged with tension lately. It was little wonder that Phoenix might be concerned. (Although was that apprehension or anticipation in his voice?) Knowing it would be unwise and with other plans in mind, Miles shook his head. “No, with company. I thought it might be a good way for you to perhaps make new acquaintances in the city.”

“Oh,” Phoenix blinked. (Was that relief or disappointment?) Realizing his superior was expecting an answer, he added, “O-oh! Right, ja, of course! It would be my pleasure, Herr Edgeworth. Danke schoen. It is a kind offer.”

“Very good,” Miles purred, relishing the little shiver that went through the other man. “I shall email you with the details shortly. Now, have a good rest of the afternoon.”

“But you never answered-”

“I’m sure that you’ll figure it out,” he answered, calmly dismissing his subordinate. Phoenix let out a dissatisfied huff, but thought better than to argue. Instead, he turned on his heel and strode out of the cavernous office, the clicks of his boots resounding through the empty space. Miles took comfort in the fact that he generally figured things out of his own. For now he had his own problems to deal with. Franziska was still angry with him and wouldn’t return his calls. Gumshoe was a hopeless case, but at least he’d managed to get in touch with the far more capable Kay Faraday. He didn’t ask details about any hypothetical heist. Plausible denial and all that. He had to find new avenues of attack. Pulling out his cell phone, he dialed up one Skye, E. “Ms. Skye,” he spoke when he heard the other line pick up, “How much of the old group are you still in touch with?”

~o~

July 10, 2024
Gatewater Hotel
6:20 PM

Phoenix couldn’t be sure... but this had all the makings of a trap. He had good instincts. He trusted them. Something was setting them off. Looking himself in the mirror in his hotel room, he adjusted the cuffs of his sleeve in nervous anticipation. No, not anticipation. Agitation. Right. Of course. There was no way he was looking forward to an after-work dinner with devastatingly handsome Miles Edgeworth. Right? Right. It wasn’t even a date. They wouldn’t be alone.

...Unless it was a trick. He could very well turn up at the restaurant and all the other supposed guests would have mysteriously cancelled. Leaving himself and Miles alone. In a romantic restaurant. With wine. Candles. Inappropriate relations.

Would that really be so bad? a treacherous part of him asked lecherously. Phoenix swallowed hard, his stomach an unpleasant eruption of mothflies. He could practically hear Onkel Friedrich’s voice bellowing at the back of his mind. Niko, you ran away from the responsibility and safety of your family seat! Will you run from your honor too, to cavort with the likes of this family traitor!

But he’s Miles Edgewoooorth, a distressingly whiney part of himself retorted. Usually, it was the sarcastic voice that dealt with inner Onkel Friedrich. The whiney part usually didn’t last very long. Phoenix rubbed a hand over his face, trying to stave his own self-flagellation. Why, why did he have to turn into such a Miles Edgeworth fanboy? Granted, he modeled his own career after the fair haired attorney, but that hardly meant...

Ach, mist. Who was he kidding? He knew perfectly well what he wanted the very first time he laid eyes on Miles Edgeworth’s picture. He was drawn to him, in a way that he didn’t think of his late fiancée. Which only worsened his guilty conscience. Trying to throw off his own thoughts, he pulled the locket from his breast pocket to gaze on Benedikta’s sweet visage. Her painted smile calmed him, blue eyes bright and reassuring. “Am I doing the right thing?” he asked her in scarcely a whisper.

As ever, she was silent. He didn’t even know her voice.

Sighing, Phoenix checked his watch. Well. He had better get going.

Taking a taxi to the restaurant in question, his nerves were starting to get the better of him again. Twice, thrice, he checked himself in his own reflection, making minute and meaningless changes to his appearance. When he arrived in front of the Chinese restaurant, he started the self-same breathing exercises that he did to psych himself up for court.

Everything is fine. You got this. Everything will be just fine. It’s just Miles.

Just... Miles. Right. Throwing his shoulders back, he sauntered into the glass doors, ready to meet Miles Edgeworth one on-

....Aaaaand he wasn’t alone.

Utterly flummoxed, Phoenix stood stock still as he regarded the... odd cast of characters that surrounded his superior nearby a large table. Very clearly not attorneys, many of their clothes alone seemed to come out of a Japanese fairy tale or were of monastic persuasion. Edgeworth had them gathered round in a group huddle, seeming to dole out instructions to them.

There are a lot of women here, he thought with an irrational spike of jealousy.

Finally, one of them seemed to notice him. Her jaw dropped, her eyes going wide as she took him in. “Nick!” she shrieked, getting the others’ attention. “Oh my God, it IS you!” With a cry, she took a running start towards him.

“M-Ms. Fey! Stop!” Edgeworth cried, just barely stopping the young lady from piledriving his subordinate into the floor. Pushing her back, he put a protective arm across Phoenix’s chest, holding the rest of them at arm’s length. “Now, as I explained previously, this is my new subordinate, Phoenix von Karma. We are here to welcome him to our city.”

More than a little alarmed, Phoenix was almost too startled to fall back on his etiquette training. However, he finally did as he gave them a formal bow and said politely, “Good evening. It is very nice to meet you all. Thank you for the dinner invitation.”

Utter silence answered him.

“Is this some kind of joke?!” one of the only other men cried. “Nicky, ol’ buddy. This has gotta be the worst prank you’ve ever pulled! How could you do this to uuuuusss~!!”

“Uhhh,” was all the prosecutor could intone, before Edgeworth came to his rescue again. “Larry,” the fair haired man snapped, “calm yourself. I gave you plenty of warning, if you’d just listened.”

“You were just spouting a load of hooey!” ‘Larry’ protested tearfully. “All this fantastical stuff about Nick’s death and- Oh my God, NICK! You’re a zombie!”

Having had quite enough, Edgeworth took himself from Phoenix’s side and grappled their would-be dinner companion by the neck. “If you’ll excuse us,” he said with feigned politeness, before dragging the goateed man out of the restaurant entirely. This left the raven haired prosecutor with a gaggle of women, all of whom stared at him in varying degrees of shock. It didn’t take a genius to realize that they all must be Phoenix Wright’s compatriots. Their reactions wouldn’t make sense otherwise. He did have to admit, the similarity between them was uncanny. Yet... yet Edgeworth had tried to warn them beforehand, so...

“W-well! I suppose we should introduce ourselves, shant we?” the nuns said with a gentle voice. Smiling warmly, she pressed her petite hands into prayer and gave a short courteous bow. “My name is Iris. I’m an old friend of Miles.”

“Are we really doing this?” one of the younger girls said in a hushed tone, eyes tearful.

A sharp pang of sympathy went through Phoenix’s heart, compelling him to lean down and smile at the young, oddly dressed little lady. “And who might you be, sweety?” he asked, giving her the warmest smile that he could manage.

“P-Pearl,” the young lady sniffled, her eyes glistening.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Pearl,” Phoenix grinned. “I hope that we can be very good friends.” He didn’t quite get the reaction he wanted though, as she only hiccupped more and then began to outright bawl. She threw herself at him, wrapping her thin arms around his neck in an inescapable hold.

Looking around helplessly, Phoenix didn’t know what to do. He never had to deal with tears like this before. Not outside of a courtroom. The von Karma house was a cold, emotionless place, after all. No one was exactly coming to his rescue though, leaving him with an armful of bawling girl. “Uh, th-there, there,” he tried to console her awkwardly, patting her back. “It’s going to alright.” Pearl only cried harder, soaking his cravate in tears.

Oh boy.

One of the other ladies moved to at least distract him, if not help him. “You look like you need some water,” a slender brunette said, handing him a glass. “Here, take this.”

“...Is this really the appropriate time...?” Phoenix asked in confusion.

“Drink it!” With a jump, he did as he was bid, swallowing down the whole tumbler before handing the glass back.

It was official. He was weak to women.

The glass disappeared rather suspiciously from her hands, but he couldn’t think much of it as he was thrown more introductions. “My name’s Ema, by the way,” the young lady said, “Ema Skye.”

“Lana Skye,” the eldest and the most normal one of them added, giving him a smile. The resemblance to Ema was clear. Sisters probably. “It’s good to see you, Phoenix.”

Last but not least, was the raven haired woman who had very nearly tackled him to the ground upon his entrance. She was dressed the most strangely, with a traditional kimono, purple jacket and oversized beads. Her expression was strangely cold, eyes searching as she looked him over. “You... you really don’t remember me?” she asked, her voice tightly controlled.

“I’m sorry,” Phoenix replied, and he meant it. He had no intention of carelessly opening old wounds like this. Of causing all these people to mourn all over again. He’d seen that enough in Onkel Friedrich and Kusine Josephine to last a lifetime. He would be having words with Miles Edgeworth later. There was no doubt about that.

Maya closed her eyes, releasing a low breath. When she opened her eyes again, she masked her pain with a bright smile. With a polite bow, she said amicably, “It’s nice to meet you, Phoenix. My name is Maya Fey. I am the leader of Kurain Village.” Phoenix gave her a nod in greeting. Interesting circles Miles ran in.

Something... something really was familiar about her though. Strikingly so. However, he knew better than to say such a thing and get her hopes up. It was likely that he saw her in one of Edgeworth’s old cases.

At this point, Pearl had finally calmed down, sniffling and hiccuping as she released his neck. “M’sorry,” she sniffled, wiping her face against her sleeves.

“No, no, don’t be sorry,” Phoenix assured her, taking a handkerchief and wiping her face. “I-I’m sure this was all just a bit of a shock. I don’t know exactly what Herr Edgeworth told you, but-”

“You’re Phoenix von Karma, a new prosecutor from Germany working under him,” the gentle soul called Iris replied. “He told us that you looked exactly like Phoenix Wright. Perhaps we were all just stunned by how much you looked like him.”

“It’s pretty unbelievable,” Ema Skye said flatly, before her elder sister elbowed her in the ribs. “Ow, Sis!”

At this point, the perpetrator of all this chaos finally returned with a pacified ‘Larry’ in tow. “My apologies,” Edgeworth said stiffly, nearly dragging the goateed man back by the ear. “This is not at all how I wanted this to go. Phoenix, I trust the ladies treated you well?”

The prosecutor’s eye twitched. “Herr Edgeworth. A word,” he hissed, grabbing the fair haired man by the arm, taking him over to the restroom for their own private talk. When they were safely stowed away in the men’s bathroom, he whirled on the chief prosecutor with all the righteous fury a von Karma could muster. “What the hell is wrong with you?!” he demanded, thrusting a finger sharply into Miles Edgeworth’s chest. “How could you not tell me that you were going to ambush me like that?!”

His supervisor’s expression etched in genuine contrition. “Phoenix, I truly am sorry. I had given them plenty of warning. Even before coming here tonight. However, not only were they my friends, but they are some of Phoenix Wright’s closest companions. I’m sure the, ah, shock of seeing you was more than they were fully prepared for.”

“Well, I hope you’re happy. You made a little girl sob tonight!” Phoenix snarled.

“Little...” Edgeworth blinked rapidly, before his brow knit into a frown. “Phoenix, Pearl Fey is fifteen years old.”

...Say what now?

That fact alone knocked Phoenix off his stride, making him forget his anger. Jaw dropped, he cried, “Das kann doch nicht wahr sein!”

Coughing lightly, Edgeworth briefly adjusted his cravate, before speaking. “I can assure you, it is not a jest. She just has a small stature and it would be wise to not point that out to her, lest she break into tears once more.”

“I... I see,” Phoenix replied stiffly. With that, they both descended into an uncomfortable stalemate. The silence between them pressed into them, almost sucking the air very air from the room. What small friendliness he had developed with the chief prosecutor was all but obliterated with this heinous stunt that he tried to pull. And yet... Yet, damn his sentimentality. “Herr Edgeworth, you still have not explained why you have- have orchestrated this farce.”

Recognizing the olive branch for what it was, Edgeworth hastily replied, “Phoenix, I just... I wanted this all out in the open. Though I do not see them as frequently as I should, there may be such occasion that they may come to visit me. If they happened to see you, here, without any explanation whatsoever, I can assure you that I would not live to see the next sunrise.” His hand came to Phoenix’s crossed forearms, braving the small but deep divide between them to squeeze his wrist. His colorless eyes bored into his blue, imploring. “I never meant to ambush you. This, I swear. I wanted you to feel welcome here. To be among friends.”

Edgeworth was hiding something. He was sure of it. His instincts screamed it. But that damned fanboy part of him couldn’t help but be swayed like the needy sycophant that it was. He just... wanted to believe him. Closing his eyes, Phoenix took a breath, taking apart his indignation brick by stony brick. “...I suppose my perception of this evening has been a little colored by disappointment,” he admitted reluctantly.

“Disappointment?” Edgeworth echoed, his confusion plain to see.

A sheepish half-smile touched the corner of Phoenix’s lips. “I had half-expected that this would be some kind of ruse... so that you could have me to yourself for dinner.”

For the very first time since the junior prosecutor could remember, it was Miles Edgeworth’s turn to blush. The chief prosecutor looked away awkwardly, suddenly unable to meet his eyes. In a motion that he could have sworn he’d seen before, the man rubbed a hand over his elbow, briefly defensive. Then he coughed, and that comely, vulnerable side seemed to evaporate like mist. Phoenix let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. It was almost a shame.

“I would be tempted to offer to steal you away, save that we would be immediately hunted down by our slighted guests,” Edgeworth replied, back to his confident self. He smiled, expression tinged with amusement. “They are quite formidable. Terrifying at times.”

“And you decided to introduce me to them, did you?” Phoenix asked wryly, cocking an eyebrow.

“You’ll find no better protection,” the fair haired man replied fondly. “Should anything happen to me, they would go to the ends of the earth to ensure your safety.” Then as an aside, “Well, perhaps not Larry.”

Deciding not to argue the point that he was not their Phoenix, he asked instead, “What makes you think that I need protection?”

“You never know when trouble will find you.”

“Trouble like you?” Phoenix teased, emboldened by the knowledge that he could knock the other off his stride. “Because you certainly spell trouble, Miles Edgeworth.”

“Do I?” Miles replied lightly. “What a thing to say to the Chief Prosecutor and your supervisor.”

“You’re forgetting you’re my family’s number one public enemy.” Phoenix took a step closer, watching in glee as those beautiful, colorless eyes widened by a fraction. “There’s always bound to be trouble if you put yourself in the same room as a von Karma.”

It was so easy to see the effect he was having on the other man. The way that his breath grew shallow, eyes hungry, cheeks threatening to color as the charged air between them heated. Miles licked his lips and swallowed. “Is that some kind of threat, Phoenix?”

“Maybe,” he purred, putting a hand to the side of Miles’ head, leaning in an inch. Miles let out a pant, his lips parting as he tilted his jaw towards him. Ready. Receptive. Wanting. All he had to do was close the distance and-

“OH. EM. GEE!” a voice cried out, making both lawyers nearly jump out of their skin. “You two are so gay all over each other!” Startled and flustered, both of them whirled around to find Larry at the door to the restroom, grinning like the idiot that he was.

“L-Larry, what are you doing here?!” Miles demanded, his face bright red with mortification. Phoenix wasn’t doing much better, visibly shaken once he realized what he’d nearly done in his lustful haze. Dear God. He nearly kissed him. He nearly kissed Miles Edgeworth.

“It’s a public restroom, dudes. Anyone coulda walked in,” his goateed friend replied flatly. “Sides, you two were taking forever and the lovelies were getting worried. Are you gonna come have dinner with us or not? Not that I’m complaining about having a bunch of babes to myself-” He started rambling nonsense at this point, which is when Miles and Phoenix automatically tuned him out. They exchanged a furtive look, the energy of what almost was still humming under their skin.

Shall we? Edgeworth asked with a tilt of his head.

Seeing no other choice, Phoenix nodded and left the close confines of the men’s room. He did the best to will away the pink in his cheeks, focusing instead on the ladies back at the table.

“Mr. Nick! Sit here next to us!” Pearl waved him over, indicating a seat in between herself and Maya at the large round table. Phoenix smiled. He was glad to see that she was in better spirits. And also glad he wasn’t going to be seated next to Miles. He did not trust himself at the moment.

“You could just call me Niko, Fräulein Pearl,” Phoenix said, seating himself next to the petite teen.

“Oh, Mr. Nick, I could never!” Pearl cried, bashfully hiding her reddened cheeks behind her hands. Phoenix couldn’t help but adore her. She was as cute as a Mausebär.

“Nick, don’t call her Fräulein!” his other dinner companion cried, elbowing him sharply in the ribs. Ignoring his yelp of pain, Maya folded her arms over her chest and said in a most authoritative manner, (looking all the world like a haughty six year old,) “Fräulein just makes her sound old!”

“That’s not what Fräulein means. You’re thinking just Fräu,” he protested.

“Nuh-uh~” the leader of Kurain Village (really??) replied childishly. “They both have frau. Which is the first part of frown. Plus you add line and then you’re giving her frown lines!”

“Maya, you can’t just change the definition of-” Phoenix paused, a sudden wave of déjà vu coming over him. He could have sworn he had this argument before. Or something like it. Shaking it off, he turned a pleading look to Miles. Who knew German surely. However, the man was masterfully keeping himself out of the conversation by studiously ignoring it.

“What’s the matter, Nick? Cat got your tongue?” Maya asked, all smug satisfaction.

And no one listened to his Niko hint either. Sigh.

Close by, Iris giggled into her sleeve. “My, I haven’t seen Maya so lively in years. It’s very good to see you two together.” Phoenix wanted to again argue the point, he really did, that he was not their Phoenix. However, there was just something about Iris’ gentle countenance that got him completely tongue-tied. Like he’d feel guilty for disagreeing with her.

“Er, um, w-well, that’s good,” he said, not knowing really how to react as he awkwardly rubbed a hand against his neck. “Young people should be lively.” Wow. Smooth. Did he use words for a living? Plus there was just something about her. She reminded him so much of what he imagined Benedikta to be like.

“Shall we order?” Edgeworth suddenly interrupted, his voice sounding oddly strained as he thrust his menu up like a shield. Even so, his tone gave no room for argument. Feeling slightly resentful that he only now just joined the conversation, Phoenix sent him a glare over the top of his own menu.

Then suddenly Maya asked, “So, Nick, you’re paying, right?”

Um. What?

When Edgeworth contributed nothing (again), Phoenix fell back to etiquette training and replied graciously, “Y-yes, of course. I don’t mind. Please have whatever you like.” A strange silence fell upon the group. With Maya at the center as she gaped at him like a pufferfish. “...Did I say something strange?” he asked, wondering if he’d fallen into a trap.

However, Maya only shook her head. “So this is what it feels like...” she said, with something akin to the awe of a child in front of a Christmas store. Then her nose crinkled, as though she’d smelled something distasteful. “Y’know, it’s really not as much fun to mooch when you actually have money. You cringe way less.”

Phoenix blanched. That was the very definition of schadenfreude. Poor Wright.

In any case, this didn’t stop Maya from ordering pretty much everything off the menu, while Miles ordered all the drinks. Dinner became an incredibly lively affair, especially with such characters as Maya and Ema. They were loud and boisterous, but... not unpleasant to be around. Despite getting off on the wrong foot, Phoenix found himself smiling at Maya’s antics. Suddenly, it didn’t seem so strange that Miles would choose to associate with these people. They were good at keeping you grounded.

Still, he did have to gently remind them that he had no idea what they were talking about when they got into certain memories and stories. “Sorry. Not a clue.” “No, I wasn’t here.” “No, I don’t remember that either.” It was a little tiring. Even so, their absolute acceptance was something he guiltily coveted, after so many years of being prejudiced against just for his name.

If only he was the one they really missed. It was a little... heartbreaking.

Eager to take a little heat away from himself, he tried a different tack. “Sister Iris, how is it that you know Herr Edgeworth?” he asked halfway through dinner. It might have been a slight miscalculation to address her. More and more he had the feeling of unwarranted affection for her. For one, she was a nun. For another, it wasn’t like he could say - Hey, I could be wrong, but I think I might have been in love with someone like you from before I could remember. Tell me about yourself. As if he wasn’t awkward enough in front of her.

Miles had been quiet through most of dinner. He seemed content to listen to the conversations at hand and study them as he sipped his glass of wine. As though he were going through them with the same professionalism as a lawyer reviewing his court evidence. Although that mask did once slip as he spoke to the littlest Fey and called her Pearls. (Phoenix shamelessly adopted the nickname instantly.) Now, however, his attention was completely riveted to the conversation at hand.

Iris gave Phoenix as almost impishly sweet smile. “That is actually a funny story. Mr. Edgeworth was actually my defense attorney.”

The raven haired prosecutor went very still. His eyes widened and his jaw dropped as he took in this information. .............What?! But that can’t be right! I know every single one of his cases! When was he a defense attorney?!

Iris laughed outright at what must have been a comical look on his face. “It’s true. He took the place of the man who planned to be my attorney. He’d been hospitalized after falling from a burning bridge over a ravine nearby my monastery.”

Oh no. Don’t tell me...

“Could we please not go into detail about this?” Miles implored, a telltale redness seeming to leech up from his wine colored suit and into his face. However, his mortification only goaded on Maya Fey, Mistress of Schadenfreude.

The spirit medium cackled in delight. “Oh come on, Mr. Edgeworth. Don’t you want him to know about how you dropped everything and chartered a plane from Europe the very second you heard, just so you could see him as soon as possible?”

By now, the blush had crept all the way to the stop of Miles’ ears.

“And how he’d managed to convince you to take on Iris’ case, just by batting his eyelashes and giving you the puppy dog look?” Maya continued on relentlessly. “Oh, Edgeworth~! You’re my only hope~!” she cooed, interlacing her fingers as she faux-swooned.

“Objection! Th-there was no puppy dog look! That was a completely inaccurate and prejudicial dramatization!” Miles choked out, embarrassed to the point of belligerence. “As I recall, you were not present. So how could you have possibly-”

“Larry,” Maya said with a victorious grin.

The chief prosecutor’s head snapped over to the accused, his hands clawing the white linen tablecloth as his whole posture spelled that he was ready to pounce on and murder his old friend. “Hey, hey, now! I’m just callin’ it like I see it!” the Butz said, holding his hands out to placate Hurricane Edgeworth. “You’ve always had a soft spot for Nick. You’re so mean to me in comparison!”

“Mr. Nick and Mr. Edgeworth are very good friends!” Pearls objected, coming to the chief prosecutor’s rescue. Phoenix had never imagined Miles would need to be defended by a tiny teen. Miles apparently didn’t think so either, as he tried to bury himself behind his glass of wine. “You’re just jealous that you don’t have anyone that close to you!”

“I don’t need to be close enough to be making out in the bathroom!”

Miles inelegantly sucked in, choked on and spat up nearly a whole glass of wine. Phoenix went white with horror, sinking back into his chair in the half-breath it took for everyone to process that information. Then the table descended into chaos.

“Making out?! NICK!”

“No! Mr. Nick is Mystic Maya’s special friend!”

“I demand evidence! Let me go luminol the bathroom!”

“Ema, you can’t go into the men’s room!”

“Hey, Iris, so since Nick is batting for the other team now-”

“Larry, no.”

“Check, please!” Miles and Phoenix called out at the same time.

~o~

July 10, 2024
Outside Twin Dragon Restaurant
10:45 PM

The two beleaguered prosecutors stood outside the restaurant in the warm night air, after having said their goodbyes to the rest of the group. Miles felt as haggard as the other prosecutor looked, after having been subjected to an interrogation that would have made even Manfred proud. Using all of their craft, they only just convinced the others that Larry had misread the situation.

...Never mind that he wouldn’t have been, had he arrived just a minute later.

No, best not to dwell on that.

Instead, they took a breather. It was difficult enough to pry Phoenix’s friends away, after having gone without for so long. Miles had to make his assurances to the group publicly that he would make sure that they got to visit with the junior prosecutor as often as possible. As long as it didn’t affect his work, naturally. After the evening that he put Phoenix through, he was gratified to see that he was open to the idea. Pearls did have her own very special charm after all.

“Nick, you better dress down next time I see you. You look so stuffy!” Maya had said after her fifth hug, lingering long after the others had moved on out of the restaurant.

“Oh but Mystic Maya, I think he looks dashing,” Pearls said with a grilish swoon. “Like a sea captain.”

“Aw, danke, Pearls. It’s too bad I hate water,” Phoenix said with one of his brighter smiles and a blush.

Miles gave a sidelong glance to his companion. It was difficult to read his thoughts when he was this fatigued. It was a gambit, to bring him back into the fold like this. However, it didn’t seem as though he had outright rejected everyone. “Thank you,” he spoke softly, when the silence began to press, “for playing along. I’m sure Larry didn’t listen to a word I said. It must still be sinking in for the rest.”

“It was... fine,” Phoenix replied, keeping his eyes on the moon above instead of turned towards him. As though that lunar orb would provide answers for him. “They are a fun bunch. They would be good friends.” His eyes slid over to Miles. “But I am not their friend. Not their Nick. I am concerned that I only prolonged their denial.”

Miles kept the wince out of his expression. No, you are not, he agreed solemnly. He might be the same in body and essentially in spirit. However, it had still been five long years since he was with them. There were bound to be some changes. Even if it just meant that he was older, more mature. It also wasn’t unheard of for defense attorneys to become prosecutors either, or vice-versa. At least now he had the chance to see how Phoenix worked and could breathe easier knowing that he was not corrupted totally by the von Karma family. He still believed in justice more than victory.

And yet... Yet the Phoenix Wright he knew was still buried in there, begging to be unearthed. The one that would demand the truth, not matter what the cost. The one that would rail against the prison of his own mind. Against the lies that had been heaped into his memories. Against this fabricated self that the Munich von Karmas had made out of him.

Miles owed him everything. Including helping him to face reality.

“I learned something today.”

Brought out of his thoughts, he looked over to the junior prosecutor to see him studying his own shoes. “I expect that you learned quite a few things,” Miles replied mildly. “Anything in particular?”

“Wright was a blind fool,” Phoenix muttered under his breath. Not daring to meet his gaze lest he find something there, he elaborated softly, “Or possibly just straight. I don’t know. All I know is if you had done for me what you did for him...” He didn’t finish, letting the unspoken words hang in the air like overripe fruit.

“...He did so much more for me. More than I can ever repay him for,” Miles spoke, watching the other man flinch.

Phoenix sagged in resignation, letting out a sigh, looking ten times more tired. Suddenly, as if picking himself up, he straightened up and spun on his toes until he faced the fair haired attorney. He bowed deeply, taking Miles’ hand in his. “Yet you deserve so much better,” he said. Then he pressed a chaste kiss to Miles’ knuckles. A sharp jolt of shock through him, as if he’d been electrocuted. He was still frozen stiff, when Phoenix straightened and gave him a small smile. “Schönen Abend, Herr Edgeworth.”

Forgetting completely he was going to offer the other man a ride, Miles stammered out, “S-schönen Abend, Phoenix.” He held his hand against his chest, the skin burning as if he’d been touched by acid. Throwing a casual grin over his shoulder, the raven haired prosecutor just gave him a wave before hailing a cab.

Once he was by himself, Miles remembered how to breathe. Staring at his hand in astonishment, he replayed that single instant in his mind until he threatened to go weak in the knees. What is wrong with me? he thought, clenching his shaking hand into a fist. You heard him. Wright would never... he wouldn’t... Just stop dreaming, you pathetic lovestruck fool.

Shaking his mind clear, he unsteadily went to his car. The lights of the highway strobed by as he drove through the emptying streets, scarcely thinking about where he was going as he drove back on auto-pilot. It was pitch dark when he arrived at his home. He wasn’t alarmed to see that his lights were on. Neither was he when he tried the door to find it unlocked. Pess came up to him, yapping in much too much excitement at the strangers in the house.

Miles found the group in his kitchen, partaking of his tea and beer stores. They looked all the world like an oddball cabal, slinking around in the dark with just the floodlights illuminating them. Shrugging off his coat, he came up to them and pressed his hands into the cold granite of the countertop. “So? Tell me what you found out.”

Chapter Text

July 10, 2024
Edgeworth Residence
????? PM

“Hold up!” a voice called out, booming in the dim of the grand kitchen. “We have to have an official name first! I call this Secret Shake Some Sense into Nick Committee into order!”

“Maya, that’s too long a name. What about the Phoenix Memory Reactivation Order?”

“Ick, sounds way too sciency and not cool enough.”

It was more people than Miles could ever remember having in his home. Gathered underneath the flood lit kitchen, the usual suspects: Maya Fey, Pearl Fey, Ema Skye, Lana Skye, Iris Hawthorne, and Larry Butz. The oddest assortment of people that one could find, and yet, he could find no better to help him.

Even if they were trying on his nerves.

Rubbing his temple, Miles patted Pess to try to calm her. The pup was absolutely beside herself, unused to all the guests. “Look, the name can be decided later. What we need to know now is the results of your findings. Ema, let’s start with you.”

Grinning victorious, the young forensic pulled out the glass she had foisted on Phoenix early on in the dinner. Now, dusty black prints covered the entire glass. “Identity confirmed,” she said with a flourish. “He is the genuine article. Our very own Phoenix Wright.”

Miles let out a breath of relief. Not that he doubted it for a moment, but it was good to hear all the same. He’d had entirely too many dealings with evil twins to not double-check. “Ms. Fey, Pearls, what of your investigation?”

The young ladies nodded, before holding out their magatamas. Miles internally sighed when he saw them. He couldn’t fault their acumen for spotting hidden truths, but the props were just unnecessary. “He wasn’t hiding anything when he said who he was,” Maya replied, “Which means, he honestly believes it.” Her expression darkened, as she slammed a hand on the counter. “Those darn von Karmas really got him good. How dare they brainwash him!”

“They’re not all bad,” Miles reminded her. Just most of them, apparently.

“Speaking of,” Lana interjected. He’d tapped her as a connection to the former prosecutor's office, even if she no longer was one. “I was able to get in touch with your sister. I let her know what was happening and she agreed, albeit rather reluctantly, to investigate her sister Josephine and Friedrich von Karma. She did admit, when she tried to talk to Josephine earlier, that she seemed unusually interested in an imposter von Karma, but then casually dismissed it as a hoax. Now that Franziska knows he’s the real deal, she will be more discreet and cautious.” After a breath, she added with a tinge of amusement, “By the way, you owe her an apology. She said something about a 15th Birthday. Said you would remember.”

The prosecutor winced. This one would hurt. “...Very well,” he agreed. He did, after all, completely lose his senses and called her a witch. He expected some form of retribution. That could come later. For now, however... “Now that we have established that he is certainly our Wright, the question remains as to what are we to do with him.”

“We get him back, of course!” Maya replied with a shout, accompanied by a small ‘Yeah!’ from Pearls.

“Woah, woah, woah~!” Ema interjected, flagging down their enthusiasm. “Are you a certified psychiatrist? I don’t think so! Nick’s mushy gray matter is a hot mess right now. We can’t just barrel in and shake some sense into him until he’s better! We might just make it worse! This is a very delicate operation!”

There was no argument there. After all, he tried that upon meeting Phoenix for the first time. Suffice it to say, it did not go well.

“That is a good point,” Lana said. “Do we know anyone trustworthy who would be able to help him? Someone who the von Karmas can’t possibly reach.”

A silence fell over the group as the descended in thought. An thought niggled at the back of Miles’ mind, but... No, surely that was a terrible idea. For so many reasons. However, as he looked around the group, he saw that none of them had an inkling of an idea. Which might make him their best and only option.

When it was clear that they were going nowhere fast, Miles forced himself to speak up. “I... know of someone,” he said with the greatest reluctance. “Someone skilled in the science of psychology. Someone only I could ever have any influence over. He is... a little unorthodox.”

“Well, who isn’t?” Ema said with a shrug.

Suddenly, Lana’s eyes widened. Ah, she got it. “Surely not. You must be joking! He’s a criminal!” That got everyone’s attention right quick.

“To be fair, I think there’s more to the story,” Miles replied defensively. “I just don’t have the evidence or the pull yet to prove it.” There was more than met the eye about that entire UR-1 business, but he had yet to put his finger on it. He had hoped that he wouldn’t have to pull a trump card like that out so soon, but Wright’s needs came first. “He is an ethical man, despite his conviction. Plus I am the only one who can give him what he wants. His old job back.”

“Th-that’s crazy talk!” Larry cried, throwing his hands in the air. “You’re going to set a criminal on Nick’s mushy gray matter?!”

“Do you have any better ideas?” Miles grated out.

“Yeah! We DON’T do that!”

“I have some strong reservations about this plan as well,” Lana added, frowning deeply. “I trust you, but this plan seems misguided.”

“Um, excuse me? Do we really trust him? Because I don’t,” Maya interjected, her childish attitude falling away to a dark look that conveyed over to her voice. Astonished, Miles looked to Phoenix’s closest compatriot, to find her eyes dark and accusing, arms folded over her chest. She seemed to grow several inches from the immature teen he’d known, to the woman she’d grown to be. She never seemed more like an authoritative leader in that moment. “Edgeworth kept the truth about Nick hidden from us for weeks! He should have told us about him right away instead of hogging him all to himself!”

A chill passed through Miles, as he felt the air turning. Though they were his allies as much as Wright’s, a flicker of suspicion and distrust had been sown in their eyes. Not that... he could entirely blame them...

“...I was trying to spare you,” he admitted softly. “The change in him is so extreme. I still find myself having difficulty in adjusting. It is painful to see him like this. To look in his eyes and find absolutely no recognition there. I had hoped that I could fix him before you knew he was back.” Yet his inadequacy in dealing with the situation made him turn to them all the same. He couldn’t trust himself, not when he was so emotionally compromised. The temptation to keep this Phoenix von Karma, who seemed to reciprocate his desires, was just too present. His hands fisted at his sides, nails biting into his palms. “I have failed you,” he said, his voice trembling with the effort to keep the self-loathing out of it, “For that I am sorry.”

Pess looked up at him, whimpering softly at his distress. His darling girl, full of unconditional love. He reached down to pet her, when suddenly a small body fell into his chest with a small whump. Looking down, he found the top of Pearl’s head as she held him tightly in a hug. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Edgeworth,” the sweet girl said, sniffling into his chest. “I’m sorry you felt like you had to go through it alone. I know you missed Mr. Nick just as much as Mystic Maya did.”

Despite himself, Miles softened with affection. “Thank you, Pearls,” he said as he briefly stroked the top of her head.

“Yeah, we got your back, Mr. Edgeworth!” Ema added with a thumbs up. No surprise that she would be in his corner. With that, the dominoes began to fall, each vying their support for the chief prosecutor. Until it finally came to Maya Fey. The dark look still present on her features, she looked grimly determined to resent him. It reminded him of the look she gave him when she found out he was the one responsible for sending Phoenix off on his fatal cruise. Relations had been strained ever since.

However, in the face of the others’ overwhelming support, her walls began to crumble. Her arms unfolding from her chest, her expression falling, she seemed to sag as the acrimony that had defined their relationship for the past five years no longer propped her up. “...Okay,” she said at last. “Okay, I believe you.” Straightening, she held out her hand as a truce. “We’ll bring Nick back together.”

“Agreed,” Miles replied, taking her hand to shake it. “Thank you, Ms. Fey.”

Maya nodded. Then like a lightswitch, she was all smiles again as her good humor returned to her. “Well, now that that’s all out there. I think we go with the criminal plan. I mean, Nick’s always defending the accused anyway. It makes total sense for someone who’s accused to help him instead!”

...That was an odd bit of logic, but Miles was hardly going to dispute it.

“Maya, it seems unwise,” Lana disagreed, still frowning at the idea. “Who knows how much further he could be manipulated.”

“Well, that means Edgeworth’s gotta keep a suuuper close eye on him, right?” the spirit medium replied in turn. “No letting them out of hearing distance at any time!”

“Of course,” Miles agreed. “As he’s still a felon, he will need to be strictly supervised regardless. It would make sense if I personally oversaw him while he was out of jail.”

“There! Problem solved!” Maya said cheerfully. It was nice to have such a frighteningly devil-may-care attitude work in his favor every once in a while. “Plus, all of us are going to keep an eye on Nick too! Especially Larry and Iris. Larry being Nick’s childhood friend and Iris being his old girlfriend. If anyone can draw out his old memories, it’s you two!”

“You can count on me!” Larry cheered, pressing a thumb against his puffed up chest. Iris, however, did not seem entirely convinced. She pensively bit her lower lip, her gaze faraway as she was lost in her thoughts.

“Problem, Ms. Hawthorne?” Miles inquired.

That seemed to startle the nun out of her reverie. “Oh! Oh no, I am happy to help however I can,” Iris replied with a gentle smile. Ever the picture of perfection. Pure, beautiful, sweet and gentle. It was no wonder that she completely turned Wright’s head. There was no telling how their relationship could have progressed if only Phoenix hadn’t gone missing.

Ignoring the dull ache whenever he thought of her, Miles said, “Very well. We shall let Gumshoe and Franziska continue to gather evidence in Germany to find any incriminating evidence of a conspiracy against Wright. The rest of you will attempt to coax his memories back as gently as possible. I will look into our other... asset to psychoanalyze Wright’s condition.”

“Yes! Go team!” Ema cheered before she broke into a yawn. “Oh man, it is late! I need to sit the sack. G’night everyone. We’ll talk more about this tomorrow.” The Skyes made their goodbyes, heading out into the midnight air to their own domiciles.

“Very well.” Miles turned to the Feys and Iris. “Your guestrooms are prepared upstairs. Pearls, Ms. Fey, I hope you two don’t mind sharing.”

“Iris can stay with me if you don’t have room!” Larry cried unhelpfully.

All four gave him a bland look. “...There are fresh towels on the beds and toiletries in the guest bathroom. Let me know if you need anything else for your stay,” Miles continued without missing a beat. “Butz, go home.”

~o~

July 11, 2018
Gatewater Penitentiary
9:00 AM

The concrete facade of the prison cut into the bright blue sky like a winter blight. It chilled anyone who saw it, even without knowing of the degenerates and murderers it house. Then one noticed the barbed wire, the fences and walls, the armed towers and most of all, the jeering faces within. It was unfortunately a place that Miles had become quite familiar with. It was unavoidable in his line of work, though this was the first time he’d come back since becoming chief prosecutor. His armed escort seemed to double, proportionate to the size of the target on his back, as he made his way through the sterile, cold halls far removed from the general populace.

Finally, he arrived at the interrogation room. A metal lockbox with heavily armed guards and video cameras placed at every corner of the room. This was a den of murderers and cutthroats, after all. Miles proceeded inside, alone. The inmate sat, hunched over, chained to the center of the table. Even from his downcast face, he could see the haggard wear that only prison could inflict on a man. Especially if that alarming streak of white in his raven hair was any indication. So much worse, he figured, when one was incarcerated with the very sinners he had put a way.

“...It has been a while, Blackquill,” Miles said as he sat down in front of the former prosecutor.

A dark rumble escaped the other man, too mirthless to be a chuckle. “Well, well, well,” the Twisted Samurai smirked, looking up at the chief prosecutor from his sunken eyes, “Miles Edgeworth. What a surprise. To what do I owe this honor?”

Knowing the man’s background, Miles was careful with his words. He didn’t know yet how prison may have changed this man. “I hope you don’t mind my saying, Blackquill, but you look unwell.”

The prisoner gave a lazy shrug. “It’s the boredom that gets me,” the cadence to his lightly accented voice lending itself to his condescension. “I’ve taken to hawking in my spare time. I would show you, but alas, they would not let me bring my Taka here to meet you. Afraid that I might order him to claw your eyes out, I reckon,” he said with a grim smile.

Suddenly, the idea of bringing Blackquill out to meet Phoenix did not seem so wise. Unfortunately, the man was still their best option. Miles interlaced his fingers on the table in front of him, mirroring the other man’s chained hands, never letting his austere demeanor slip. “I may be able to help you with that,” he said, keeping his voice perfectly even. Then, he let the anvil drop. “What would you say if I asked you to come back to work at the prosecutor’s office on a case-by-case basis?”

To his credit, Blackquill didn’t outwardly show any surprise. However, there was a definite change to his eyes, a deep and hungry light to them. “I’d say you’re off your rocker,” he said after a lengthy pause. “Are you so desperate for new blood that you’d recruit a felon?”

Miles refused to answer, though there was a grain of truth to it. Instead, knowing his interest, he dove straight into the heart of the matter. “I will be frank, Blackquill. I need something from you.”

“Ah. Here we go,” the inmate intoned in dark amusement.

Ignoring the snipe, Miles went on. “I have a colleague, whom I have confirmed to be a man formerly thought deceased. He is amnesiac and brainwashed, likely by an infamous and very influential legal family in Europe. I want you to assist in breaking him out of it. Due to the reach of this family, the task is potentially quite dangerous. Particularly if you are already considered to be on the wrong side of the law.” The implication hung in the air, like the blade of a guillotine.

Blackquill’s eyes briefly widened, taking in all this information. He let out an almost manic laugh. “Well! You don’t do anything by half-measures, do you Edgeworth-dono?” he said with one of the most chilling smiles Miles had ever seen. “So you want me to stick my neck out for this pathetic sod? Just for a bit of work?”

“You did say the boredom was killing you,” the chief prosecutor reasoned. “I can promise, you will be anything but bored.”

The prisoner let out another boisterous laugh, pounding on the table with a chained hand. Miles wasn’t quite sure if the man was fully sane himself. “Very well!” Blackquill agreed. “At the very least, this will let me stretch my legs for a time. So who’s the unfortunate lout anyway?”

Figuring it was safe, Miles finally divulged, “Phoenix Wright,” he said after a pause, “Though he now styles himself as Phoenix von Karma.”

That, if nothing else, floored him. For the first time, the prisoner gaped at him in open astonishment. “That Phoenix Wright?” he demanded, “Those von Karmas?”

“Have you changed your mind?” the fair haired prosecutor asked mildly.

A sharp, predatory smile stretched across Blackquill’s lips. “On the contrary. In fact, I think this will be the most fun I’ve had in years.”

~o~

July 13, 2024
Prosecutor’s Office
2:30 PM

Phoenix had the strangest feeling that he was being ignored. By Edgeworth.

For weeks now the chief prosecutor had attended every breakfast and lunch with him almost religiously. Now, it was as if he didn’t even exist. Sure, two days ago he could understand breakfast, since he’d had business in prison. That didn’t exactly explain every other meal. Ever the gentleman, Edgeworth sent his apologies and cancelled plans rather than leave him hanging. Citing that he was much too busy and would have to excuse himself. That perhaps he should go have lunch with Iris Hawthorne or Leonard Butz instead. Which he did, out of courtesy, but inevitably his attention always dragged back to Miles and his peculiar absence.

It made Phoenix paranoid.

Worse, it made him sulk.

Phoenix, you are not his pet. You don’t need his constant attention, he berated himself as he tried to will himself into eating a late lunch at his desk. He’d been so spoiled by Miles he forgot to even get himself lunch until his hunger was gnawing at his insides. A realization that instantly deadened his appetite even when his fingers began to tremble for want of food.

A flash of dark plum strode past the office door. Without thinking, Phoenix was already on his feet, ten case files in hand. One for every excuse he made up to talk to him. He knew very well that it was kind of pathetic, but he just couldn’t help himself.

Miles. Miles, please just let me know. Let me know this isn’t because of that dinner.

Wait. Since when did he start calling him Miles?

Phoenix misstepped, so distracted by the sudden realization he very nearly fell into the man in front of him. “Ah, verzeihung!” he apologized, only then noticing that he’d nearly got the drop on the man that was accompanying Miles.

Clad is stark black and whites, the man merely looked at him with an arched eyebrow underneath a wave of raven hair streaked with white. He had a condescending and dangerous air about him, like he knew more than all the people in this room combined. Like he knew their deepest secrets. “Gesundheit,” he replied in a light British accent. ...Clearly not a German speaker.

Phoenix cast a questioning look over to his superior. Miles coughed lightly, before gesturing to his guest. “Herr von Karma, this is Simon Blackquill. He will be working for this office on an ad hoc basis. He was once a prosecutor here.”

Was once a prosecutor? Phoenix looked the man over and realized with a small start that the man had chains around his wrists. Then he noticed the small contingent of armed corrections officers following them. How did he not notice that before?!

“I... I see...” Phoenix replied weakly. No. No, he didn’t see. Not at all. What was going on here?!

Without missing a beat, the chief prosecutor went on, “I’m just going to process him. Then, Herr von Karma, you’ll stop working with me and you’ll take him as your second chair on some of your next cases. It will help him get back into the swing of things.”

....Wait. What?!

The junior prosecutor went pale. His eyes flicked over to the felon, who only smirked in response at his reaction. It was official. Edgeworth hated his guts. Why else would he punish him by making him work side by side with a convict?

“Have you had lunch yet?” Miles asked. “Once we’re done here, I’d like to make up for all our missed meals together and take you out.”

Genuinely stunned, Phoenix replied, “Oh, er, nein. I haven’t. I would like that.”

“Good. It will be a good chance for you and Mr. Blackquill to get acquainted.”

At once, the budding elation was quashed. “...Uh... together? With him?”

“Of course,” Edgeworth replied, only sinking him more into his depression. Which is when he gave him one of those damned smiles. The warm, serene ones that made him as good as drinking sweet winter wine. “I wouldn’t leave you alone with him, Herr von Karma. Don’t you worry.”

The beginnings of a smile touched the corners of his lips. So, he did care after-

“You are, after all, one of my very best prosecutors. This office would suffer greatly without you.”

The smile fell instantly. Mixed signals much?!

“Ah,” he replied. Not really knowing what else to say. After a beat, he realized that they were waiting on him. “R-right, well. I see. Good. I’m... looking forward to it? I, er, I’ll just be waiting in my office. Come fetch me when you’re done.” With that, Phoenix spun on his heel with cases in hand. Once he was safely locked away, he dropped the cases onto his coffee table and dropped his head on top of his desk. Belatedly, he noticed the now stone-cold lasagna on his desk and with a groan, swept it into the garbage.

Out in the hall, Miles Edgeworth had to contend with the first of what would be many knowing looks from his would-be accomplice. “What, pray tell, is that look for?” he grated out as he continued to escort Blackquill back to his office.

“Just observing,” Blackquill remarked. “I’m no shrink, Shochou. I didn’t sign up to listen to you whinge about your problems. None of that ‘tell me how that makes you feel’ codswallop.”

“Good. I have absolutely no intention of doing so,” Miles replied, wondering why it even needed to be said.

“So if you ever feel the temptation to unload about your love life, don’t.”

The chief prosecutor froze right outside his door. Casting a panicked glance over at the armed escort, he hissed in a rush of breath, “I am not- There is nothing going on between myself and Phoenix. Do you understand me?”

“Now see,” Blackquill replied, “this is exactly the sort of thing I’m not interested in. I do not care that you’re repressing your sexual desires for your coworker. To make me party to such personal information is quite unprofessional.”

Miles couldn’t decide if he was more mortified or enraged, his hands twitching at his sides as he fought the urge to lay hands on the other man. Unprofessional. Unprofessional?! He’d never been more insulted in his life! Then he noticed the smirk on the other man’s features. “Relax, Shochou,” Blackquill said with a low chuckle, as he passed by him into the office, “I’m just taking the piss out of you. You’re making this too easy. Now, let’s have a chat about this Wright lad, shall we?”

Glaring at the man’s back, Miles smoothed back down his ruffled feathers. He refused to let this man turn him into a plaything. For better or worse, he was stuck with him for as long as it took to bring Phoenix Wright back to his senses.

Chapter Text

July 13, 2024
Astoria’s Restaurant
3:00 PM

This isn’t awkward at all.

Phoenix toyed with his food, torn between ravenous and sulky. Across from him sat Miles and Blackquill, whose intrusion into this whole affair was setting the raven-haired prosecutor off-balance. He had only just gotten his bearings with the chief prosecutor, it seemed, hoping that they would at least be able to work in stride for a little while. It had been less than two weeks since his first trial, that fateful day when Edgeworth acknowledged his prosecutorial talent.

And now this.

Miles was as implacable as ever, eating his lunch with perfect grace and manner. Blackquill wolfed down his pasta as though it was the first meal he’d eaten in ages. Considering where he just came from, it was probably the first proper food he had in a while. Another unnerving presence were two corrections officers in starched uniforms sitting apace away from them at a different white linen table. They didn’t eat but sat quietly observing the felon at their table. It was unnerving. Not just to him, but quite a number of fellow diners as well. Downtown men and women in business suits, not really prepared to have their power lunches in this kind of environment.

Phoenix’s stomach growled, making him blush. He still hadn’t eaten that day, but it was difficult to maintain a sulk when you were stuffing your face with pasta. (If anyone at the restaurant noticed that he had already come for a takeaway lunch, they didn’t comment.)

Blackquill raised an eyebrow. “Well, don’t starve on my account, man. Those coppers there will make sure I don’t shank you while you’re eating.”

Edgeworth scrunched his nose, as unimpressed as Phoenix at the prison humor. Nonetheless, Phoenix picked up his fork and began to eat with as much restraint as possible, so it didn’t look as though he were in protestation. Even if he felt like it.

“So,” Phoenix started, deciding to go right at it, “Herr Blackquill, what were you in prison for?”

The chief prosecutor stiffened at the table. However, as casual as you can please, the felon gave a half-shrug. “They say I killed a woman in cold blood.”

A brief shiver went through Phoenix at his nonchalance. At how easily he admitted to murder. “And did you?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Blackquill merely gave him a small, cold smile. “Enough about me,” he redirected, setting his utensils down beside his empty plate, “So you’re the new star in the office, I hear. Used to be, I was the hot shot around here.”

Phoenix shrugged it off. “Herr Edgeworth already earned that mantle from you before I came along,” he replied, quite pleased at the crooked half-smile that flitted across the pale-haired man’s lips. Relishing the flutter of warmth that went through him for a brief moment, his blue eyes flicked back to Blackquill. “Are you even able to practice? How do you still have your license?”

For some reason, the felon only looked amused, as if he’d made a great joke. “It’s hard, but you can still keep it up inside. Far better than a dead man, in any case.” Before anyone could react to the bizarre aside, he probed, “So tell me about yourself, Phoenix-dono. Are you married? Where are you from? I detect a bit of an accent on you.”

Far from comfortable with divulging his personal life to a convicted murderer, Phoenix sent, dare he say it, a pleading look to his supervisor. However, Edgeworth wasn’t in the least bit helpful. In fact, he leaned forward in interest, awaiting his response.

Verdammt, Edgeworth! You already know all this!

Feeling betrayed, Phoenix clenched his fist under the table, straightening as he gave his perfunctory response. “I was born in Phoenix, Arizona. I was raised in Munich, Germany, where I studied and practiced law. I had a fiancée.” A small knot tightened in his throat, a phantom of pain. “She is no longer around. I came here to...” find Miles “...make a name for myself out of my uncle’s reach.” Then with the same chilly politeness, he asked, “And you, Herr Blackquill, what led you from the life of prosecuting criminals to murdering a human being in cold blood?”

Blackquill did not rise to the bait. “A fiancée, you say?” He sent a rather significant look in Edgeworth’s direction that made both prosecutors squirm. It was as though he could see the intangible, fragile thing between them and was prodding it with a scalpel. Taking no cue from the use of past tense at all, the felon asked, “How did you meet the lady?”

“Through my uncle.”

“An arranged match then? I suppose that’s why it didn’t work out.”

“We were in love if you must know,” Phoenix said, narrowing his eyes.

“Oh?” Blackquill intoned, “So then what happened to her?”

Phoenix grit his teeth. He didn’t need this convict to dredge up all the excruciatingly painful memories of grief and loss he’d left behind. Even if he didn’t remember Benedikta, he felt Onkel Friedrich and Josephine’s pain as keenly as if it were his own. Having quite enough of this, he threw his napkin onto the table and abruptly stood, sending his chair squealing back to the attention of the whole dining room. “If you’ll excuse me, I still have work to do,” he spoke, his voice wound as tightly as a spring. “Herr Edgeworth, I hope you have a good lunch.”

Whirling on his heel, he barely caught the scalding glare Miles sent his new subordinate’s way before he quickly marched out of the restaurant. His blood boiled, hackles raised as if he were a cat stroked the wrong way. He didn’t know why Simon Blackquill was setting him off so easily, making him go on the defensive. Surely, Edgeworth would see how ridiculous this whole idea was and send the man back to where he belonged.

Unbeknownst to him, Miles was thinking just that. The heat of his glare didn’t abate in the least with Phoenix’s departure. Especially when Blackquill began to smirk. “Bit of a touchy bugger, isn’t he?” he remarked lightly.

“Exactly what was the purpose of that?” Miles demanded, his words coming out in a hiss.

“Testing my bounds,” the felon replied, all humor suddenly dropping from his tone. “Trying to find a thread that I can unravel.” After a pause, he said, “Shochou, when it happens, it’s not going to be pretty.”

Shochou?

More importantly... “When what happens?” Miles repeated, alarmed.

Blackquill’s next words were low and grim, sending a chill down his spine. “When he shatters.”

~o~

July 15, 2024
Prosecutor’s Office
7:00 AM

The heat was already oppressive at the early hour, making Phoenix regret his choice of wardrobe, as his whole body felt sticky and overheated. Cravates only made sense in cold places, like say... Deutschland. How Edgeworth managed every day was mind-blowing.

Speaking of... Phoenix looked to the paper bag in his hand, palms sweating for a different reason than the heat. He’d worked himself into a tizzy on his day off, trying to figure out if Miles was trying to distance himself from him (in the most bizarre way that he could imagine). If he regretted his actions over their dinner. After all, it wasn’t exactly... ethical to form a relationship with a subordinate.

Unfortunately, Miles Edgeworth was one of the most ethical people in the city.

So in some kind of panicked fit, Phoenix decided that the only sensible thing to do was to ambush him with breakfast. The irony of the situation was not lost on him.

First, he chases me. Now I’m the one doing the chasing.

He tried not to think about what Onkel Friedrich would have to say about all this. He tried to tell himself this was merely a work breakfast. That he was paying Mil- Herr Edgeworth back for all the meals that he had paid for. He tried to make his traitorous heart stop beating so quickly.

None of it was working as he braved his way to the chief prosecutor’s office. Three feet to the door, he considered turning around. When his hand raised to knock, he finally quailed and spun on his heel to head back to his office. “Idiot, Idiot, Idiot.” Berating himself, he scarcely noticed that something was amiss when he stepped into the magenta room.

That is until a piercing shriek startled him out of his thoughts.

Phoenix looked up. “What the-” A cloud of feathers and claws flew at him. With a yelp, the attorney slammed the door closed, only to hear claws scrape at the wood. Breakfast forgotten, he ran back to Edgeworth’s office, bursting into the room without so much as a knock. “Killervogel! Es gibt einen Killervogel!”

He got his second nasty surprise that morning when he realized that Edgeworth wasn’t alone. In front of his desk sat Blackquill, looking perfectly nonplussed, while his armed contingent stood by the doorway. There was food on the desk, which sent a whole host of unpleasant emotions through him. However, before he could react, the chief prosecutor rose to his feet, instantly drawn out of whatever the pair of them were discussing over breakfast. “Killer... bird?” Miles echoed in concerned confusion. “Where?”

“In my office!”

“Ah,” Blackquill’s voice cut in. “That is probably Taka, my hawk.”

His colleagues stared at him. “Your what?” Phoenix sputtered.

“Taka,” the felon reiterated, calm as you please. “I am training her to assist with litigation.”

Miles and Phoenix shared a look. Neither of them could even think of what that could possibly entail. “Why my office?” Phoenix demanded, setting that aside for now.

“Shochou said that I should share with you for the time being,” Blackquill replied. “Besides, an enclosed space is what she’s used to.”

It took a minute for him to figure out who ‘Shochou’ even was. However, Edgeworth’s guilty look away was the only clue he needed. At his intense, disbelieving stare, Miles buckled, “You do have one of the larger offices. Besides, if you’re going to work together, it is more expedient to...”

He started rambling, but Phoenix stopped listening. Dazed, he looked between Miles and Blackquill, trying to find his footing in this massive shift in dynamic. Mid-ramble, the raven-haired attorney interrupted, “Herr Edgeworth, do you want to have lunch with me?”

Miles’ eyebrows rose, mouth still open mid-word. Caught flat-footed, he replied, “I, well, yes. I think we can. Let us know what time you’re available.

....We? Us?

Phoenix’s eyes shifted to Blackquill, who only smirked back at him. Without another word, he spun on his heel and strode out into the hall.

As he walked defeated back to his office, he suddenly heard Larry Butz’s jovial voice calling out near his door. “Hey Nick!” the goateed man cried, not noticing his target walking towards him down the hall. He looked dangerously close to the office door, “Surprise! I got some bagels from that place you-”

Before Phoenix could stop him, Larry threw open the door. A second later twin shrieks filled the air, accompanied by flailing limbs and flying feathers.

“LARRY!”

~o~

July 16, 2024
Prosecutor’s Office
10:00 AM

Blue eyes flicked around the conference room, taking in the occupants. Blackquill and his guards, he understood. They were working on building a case together, per their new (albeit bizarre) work arrangement.

Why was Miles here?

It was the question he kept wanting to ask, ever since he and Blackquill had been partnered together so to speak. There wasn’t any need for the chief prosecutor to hover as he did since he wasn’t Phoenix’s second chair anymore. Moreover, it wasn’t like Edgeworth was exiled from his own office because of a nearly feral raptor.

However, instead of being stationed in his grand office with all its amenities, he was here. Working on his laptop and taking calls forwarded to his cell phone.

For whatever reason, Phoenix finally deduced, Miles didn’t want him alone with Blackquill. It was the only explanation that he could think of. However, why did the armed officers who constantly followed Blackquill not suffice? That was their job, wasn’t it?

Unless trust wasn’t the issue? Was it like when Phoenix first came to the office and Miles hovered around him constantly? The thought unsettled him, considering what the chief prosecutor’s motivations had been. He hadn’t... moved on , had he?

Edgeworth’s phone buzzed. He looked down and read the message. “I have to take this,” he announced. Which Phoenix thought should be some sort of signal that he was going to leave, but instead, the fair-haired man hesitated. His eyes flicked between his two subordinates. “I’ll only be a few minutes,” he said and finally left the pair of them to their own devices.

Once he was gone, Blackquill turned an interested glance over to his new colleague. “Bit of a helicopter parent, isn’t he?” It took all Phoenix had not to roll his eyes. “Then again, he was raised by Manfred von Karma. The man was incredibly overbearing the few times I met him.”

A small pause in his writing betrayed his interest. No, no. He wasn’t going to dignify this one-sided conversation with any attention.

“Have you ever met the man?” the felon suddenly asked.

“No,” Phoenix replied curtly, hoping his tone would end the questioning.

It did not. “Really? How odd. One would think that with him being your uncle, you’d at least meet him once or twice.” This time Phoenix really did roll his eyes. It really wasn’t that strange since Onkel Manfred lived and worked in the United States. Not to mention, the situation with Josephine had made things tense between the two brothers. Which Blackquill had no need to know anything about. However, the man just kept going on undaunted, “Don’t tell me the King of Prosecutors was the black sheep of the family.”

“Herr Blackquill,” Phoenix cut in sharply before the personal probing grew any worse. “I would appreciate it if you did not ask me any more personal questions.”

The other man cocked an eyebrow, “Why, I’m just being friendly with a colleague. There’s no harm in it, is there?”

Friendly. Phoenix scoffed. “Herr Blackquill, I am not making myself clear. I will not answer any personal questions about myself. I have no intention of interacting with you outside of a professional relationship.”

Blackquill whistled, “Awfully quick to judge, aren’t you? Is that the von Karma upbringing talking?”

As promised, Phoenix shut down, completely ignoring the question. Whatever other questions Blackquill asked were tuned out as Phoenix buckled down to work. When he returned to the conference room, Edgeworth sensed a different energy in the air. The terse and palpable silence between the two of them. He glanced to Blackquill and they shared some unknowable look.

When the pair snuck off together again, Phoenix grit his teeth and tried to ignore that too.

~o~

July 18, 2024
Courtroom III
11:05 AM

“And how do you plead?”

“Guilty, your Honor.”

“Counsel, have you reached a settlement?”

“Yes, Your Honor. The people have agreed to time served and probation.”

“Mr. Jones, do you know that by pleading guilty you lose the right to a jury trial?”

Phoenix was already zoning out at the regimented questioning, thinking of the other settled cases he was going to have to clear today, along with the hearings in the afternoon. For once, he was grateful he was kept so busy (and out of the office). It kept him from thinking too much of other things. His exile, his displacement, criminals, Miles. At least he was going to get some reprieve when he had lunch with Iris-

The sharp clack of the gavel pulled him out of his darkening thoughts. He packed his things and turned to the pews, only to get an unpleasant surprise when he saw none other than his new shadow lingering nearby the door. Phoenix’s whole body stiffened with tension. “What are you doing here?” he demanded.

“Shochou said I should be second chair in your cases, remember?” Blackquill reminded him mildly. “Although you made a good effort trying to ditch me this morning.”

“I don’t need a second chair on settlements and hearings,” Phoenix said slowly. “I’ll let you know when there’s something exciting actually happening.” Possibly with a memo. Buried under stacks of paper. Lost forever.

“Shochou told me one of your biggest strengths was case management. It seems like exactly the sort of thing I should be tagging along for.”

Call him Shochou one more time...

Before the argument could devolve into something totally unprofessional, another counselor approached the pair of them, looking nervously between the two prosecutors. The slender young man, who looked like he was fresh out of law school, turned to Phoenix. “Mr. von Karma, I’m the defense on the case against Mr. Rebault. Could I have a minute?”

Mentally rifling through his stacks of cases, Phoenix nodded. “Yes, of course. Let’s find an empty meeting room.” He gestured to the hall, trying to ignore the felon’s presence behind them. At least his armed escort didn’t look so completely out of place here. They filed into a small room, Blackquill and Phoenix on one side and the nervous defense on the other. To his credit, he tried to cover it up with bravado, but his anxiety was obvious.

“Mr. von Karma, my client wouldn’t take the deal,” the defense attorney sputtered out.

Phoenix cocked an eyebrow. Well, there went his afternoon. “You could have said just as much in the courtroom. Now, I’m prepared to go to trial and-”

“Sir, please! My client is innocent!” the counselor insisted, unexpectedly grabbing Phoenix’s hands. “Isn’t there anything you can do?”

This was the first time Phoenix encountered a defense attorney quite so... hysterical. However, his heart panged, feeling sorry for the poor boy. The boy being the attorney. Not his client. He didn’t immediately snatch his hands away, but instead patted them in reassurance. “Counselor, we wouldn’t be prosecuting if we didn’t think he did it,” he reminded the boy gently. “It’s your job to fight for him with the best defense that you can.”

“I don’t think I can,” the attorney whispered, turning pale at his own unbidden admission.

That probably wasn’t meant to be said aloud. Nonetheless, he answered it. “You must.” Finally detracting himself, Phoenix stood and clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Now, buck up. I’ll see you in court.” With that, he left with his strange contingent in tow, heading straight back to court for another settlement.

After a moment, Blackquill spoke up, “I hope you’re not going to go soft on the boy.”

Strange thing for a convicted criminal to say. Phoenix smiled wryly, hand poised on the courtroom door ready to enter. “Just watch me.”

~o~

That afternoon, the raven-haired prosecutor did just that. As if to prove a point, he eviscerated the shaky defense pointing out contradiction after contradiction with friendly aplomb, until the room turned subtly (and then not so subtly) in his favor. The coup-de-grace was when he turned the accused on himself, getting the man to admit what he had done in the heat of passion. The accused broke down into tears on the stand, while Phoenix patted his back with comforting ‘ there, there’s . Leaving the already disheartened defense attorney to flounder unsuccessfully to his rescue. The guilty verdict was inevitable.

“He’s talented,” Blackquill remarked, when he returned back to the office to report his findings. “Nothing there that I can exploit. ...Are you sure that you want him turning back into a defense attorney?”

Pride effused through Miles as he listened to the day’s accounts. As it did whenever Phoenix shone like a star. Although it was a bit easier to swallow when they were both on the same side of the bench, he admitted guiltily. “I want what’s best for him,” he replied. “Besides, I learned a hard lesson that our justice system works best when the talent is evenly distributed. It’s up to both sides to fight for the truth.”

Blackquill was remarkably quiet. Pensive. Long enough for Miles to ask, “Is something the matter?”

Giving a half-shrug, the felon replied, “Nothing.” A pause. “I’ll tell you later. Perhaps after this von Karma business is finished.” Then as nonchalant as you please, he added, “Oh, I forgot to tell you. Phoenix-dono had lunch with Iris Hawthorne.”

The chief prosecutor went still. “...What?” A second later, he berated himself. His incredulity should not have been so appreciable. He knew this was coming. The moment he introduced the pair of them, he should have realized what he had gotten himself into. Phoenix’s compatriots were all purposefully making efforts to re-enter his life, if not just to attempt to awaken old memories than to simply be near him. In fact, Maya had reported that she was going to steal him after work to go drinking.

It should have come to no surprise that Iris would want to rekindle their relationship as well.

“I see,” he spoke. The words burned in his throat.

Blackquill only gave him an amused look. “For what it’s worth, it just looked friendly. No need to lose any sleep over it.”

Miles narrowed his eyes. For someone who said they didn’t want to hear about his love life, the man was remarkably nosy. “Thank you for that perfectly needless observation. You may go now.” With that dismissal, the armed escort stepped forward, taking Blackquill back to the safehouse for the night.

Once the convict was gone, the chief prosecutor rubbed a hand over his face in fatigue, coming to grips with the reality that soon he was going to lose Phoenix von Karma.

Chapter Text

July 21, 2024
Eldoon’s Ramen
1:00 PM

“Nick? Niiiiick~!”

With a start, the raven haired prosecutor snapped out of his thoughts. He’d been so lost in thoughts of dark halls and shady coworkers that the stark contrast of the sunlit noodle bar was almost jarring. “What? Oh, sorry,” he said to his two lunch mates, Maya and Pearl Fey, “I was thinking about work.”

Maya raised an eyebrow. “I never thought I’d say this, but you work too hard, Nick. You have to enjoy life a little more! Edgeworth is a bad influence!”

Before Phoenix could laugh outright at that statement, Pearls butted in, “Mystic Maya, Mr. Nick was always a very hard worker when he was on a case! He was just too awkward to go out and get new clients.”

“You mean too lazy,” the elder medium snorted derisively.

Once again, Phoenix found the futility in trying to argue that he was not Wright. Especially with these two. “Well, it’s a good thing I’m not a defense attorney,” he said mildly. The very thought of hunting down work made him shudder. Perhaps because he was overloaded with cases as it was in the severely understaffed office. “If it makes you feel any better, I wasn’t thinking about work-work. I have a new coworker.”

“Oooh~ Is it a she? Is she pretty~?” Maya asked, leaning forward in interest as she waited for some juicy gossip.

A snort escaped him before he could stop himself. “Blackquill? No. He’s this felon that Miles pulled out of prison. He’s way too obsessed with Japan, he keeps a pet hawk in my office, and he asks too many personal questions.”

Maya and Pearls stared in astonishment. “Mr. Nick, did you just call Mr. Edgeworth, Miles?” the younger asked in amazement.

Phoenix went red. “Wh-what? No, I- I mean, I did, but-” he stammered, a full on fit of awkward mortification threatening to dissolve him into jelly. Finally, he recovered, “Th-that’s not the point here! Was that really all you got from what I said?!”

“Well, yeah,” Maya replied, as if he were the dunce. “Nobody calls him anything but Edgeworth. I forgot he even had a first name!”

Oh good grief.

“Do you want to hear about the felon coworker or don’t you?”

“Okay, yes, yes, I’m listening,” Maya replied, putting her hands in her lap as she straightened up. The very picture of an attentive listener. “So he asks a lot of personal questions, huh? Maybe he’s just trying to be friendly.”

“He’s a self-confessed murderer! I’m not about to share my life story with him!” Phoenix cried, utterly flabbergasted.

“Why not? What’s he going to do about it?”

This level of careless disregard was just beyond him. Then again, he was coming to learn that was just what Maya was like. It had to take a special kind of eccentric to be a spirit medium after all. What was irritating was that he didn’t have a good answer for her. Really, what could Blackquill do with the information? He apparently had this so-called Power of Suggestion tactic he used in the courtroom, but Phoenix had yet to see it in action. He had no gang ties in prison and he was on death’s row. Not to mention he was constantly under armed guard. He was effectively impotent.

But the idea of becoming friendly with him was galling.

“Let’s just talk about something else. Tell me more about Kurain.”

~o~

July 21, 2024
Prosecutor’s Office
1:45 PM

When Phoenix returned to the office, the telltale sign of armed security indicated that Blackquill was still around. Probably alone in Miles’ office. Where he always was when he wasn’t working on cases with Phoenix, having one of their little secret meetings.

Like they’d been doing for weeks now. (Well, okay, just a little more than a week.) He never had a moment alone with Miles anymore. Blackquill was always around, hovering, observing. Making snide little remarks as he probed him with personal questions.

An ugly heat like liquid anger pumped through his veins at the thought. Doing his best to ignore it, he turned his attention instead to the office manager. “Anything come for me over lunch?” he asked.

Fräulein Maisel handed him a stack from CID. “Your English is getting so good!” the brunette complimented, making him blush. “I can hardly hear your accent anymore. No one would even guess you weren’t from around here.”

“Maybe that’s why he’s not the favorite anymore,” a slimey voice sneered beside him. Phoenix glanced over, to see the unenviable sweaty frame of the office gossip sliding into view. Ugh. Stu. The man that Miles had dubbed ‘the Toad’ pressed up against Fräulein Maisel’s desk to pick up his own files, his sticky stomach spelching against the clean glass. The fact that he was still around was a testament to the sad state of affairs in the prosecutor’s office. Barely competent, but ethical at least. At least in terms of the courtroom. Outside of it, however...

Stu’s wet, beady eyes glanced up to him, an unpleasant smile stretching over his lips. “You’ve lost that exotic touch. Now he’s more interested in jail bait.”

That ugly heat was back again, burning in even greater intensity.

“Your insinuation is extremely disrespectful, Herr Ferguson,” Phoenix snapped, unable to stop himself as his hackles rose. “The chief prosecutor is an honorable and ethical man. There is nothing going on between the two of them.” He hoped. “I demand that you apologize immediately.”

“Oh come now. I’m just saying what we’re all thinking,” Stu said lightly, holding up his hands in placation.

“You most certainly are not,” Fräulein Maisel interjected, her entire posture riveted with displeasure. “You’ve always had it out for Mr. Edgeworth. Even when he first started here. I heard you were the one that spread all those rumors that gave him the Demon Prosecutor reputation.”

Phoenix’s head whipped over to the oily toad. “That was you?!”

“I neither confirm nor deny,” Ferguson replied, taking a sudden interest in picking at his fingernails. Which meant that he was as guilty as sin.

A sharp, twisted anger boiled up inside of him at the thought of that injustice, that prejudice, needlessly thrown onto someone so young. And that it was Miles...

“Du Hurensohn!” the growl ripped from his throat.

“Just what is going on here?” another party entirely cut into the conversation, before Phoenix could even think of laying hands on the other man. He looked up to see Miles Edgeworth’s hard gaze looking over the scene. Blackquill was right behind him, much to his irritation. “Herr von Karma, I do not condone such language in this office. And you,” he turned to Stuart, “I hope you are not antagonizing your colleagues. If you have to make me choose between keeping either one of you, rest assured that I will keep the better performer. Do you understand me?”

That would be Stuart Ferguson’s death knell, if there ever was one.

“U-understood!” Stu replied quickly, suddenly drenched in cold sweat. “Well, better get back to it. Work, work, work.” With that, he fled.

Typical. He’ll say whatever he likes about Miles behind his back, but he can’t take the heat.

“Oh, Mr. Edgeworth, please don’t be angry with Phoenix. He was just defending your honor,” Fräulein Maisel unhelpfully put in. The raven haired prosecutor went red with embarrassment.

She didn’t have to put it like that!

His embarrassment only mounted when Miles glanced in his direction. “Oh? Is that so?” he asked lightly, an amused smile stretching over his lips.

Kill me now.

For his part, Blackquill let out a huff of laughter. “That’s quite the guard dog you have there, Shochou.” Phoenix twitched at the pet-name. “Like your very own German shepherd.”

....Okay, kill Blackquill first. Then you can kill me.

“That’s quite enough,” Miles said, his own amusement shutting down. “Don’t the two of you have work to do?” Of course, that was a given. When wasn’t there work to do?

However, the convict gave their chief prosecutor the side-eye. “Depends. Are you going to supervise us again? Can’t imagine we can actually get anything done with you hovering like a mother hen.”

Undaunted, Miles responded, “You know very well I can’t leave you alone. If at the very least so that Phoenix doesn’t pick up your bird-brained analogies.”

“He’ll never learn to fly if you don’t push him out of the nest first.”

“And risk cracking him like an egg? I don’t think so.”

“Now who’s the one using bird analogies?”

Phoenix and Fräulein Maisel stared back and forth as the two prosecutors sniped at each other. He had the distinct feeling that the pair of them were no longer talking about work. Maybe it had something to do with this strange arrangement of theirs. (Although he couldn’t help but feel a little happy they were clearly not getting along.) Coughing lightly, Phoenix butted in, “Herr Edgeworth, es ist okay. Ich kann alleine mit Blackquill arbeiten. Sie sind beschäftigt.”

Taken aback, Miles replied, “Bist du sicher? Ich möchte, dass du in Sicherheit bist.”

A pleasant warmth spread throughout Phoenix’s chest at the other’s concern. “Danke, Herr Edgeworth. Aber die Wachen werden gleich draußen sein.”

“Would it kill you two to use the Queen’s English?” Blackquill cut in, folding his arms over his chest. It earned him a baleful glance from his fellow prosecutors.

“We were discussing your arrangement,” Miles replied tersely. To Phoenix, he said, “If you feel that strongly about it, I must insist you use the conference room to work. The glass one. Under no circumstance will you be out of the guards’ sight.”

“Verstanden,” Phoenix agreed. In German, just to piss Blackquill off a little more. Lost his exotic touch his foot.

Doling him a small smile, Miles said, “Very well. Get to it then. I’ll be in my office if you need me.” That decided, he headed off back to his office. Likely to attend to all the work he’d been putting off while he was babysitting the two of them.

Phoenix let out a long sigh as he watched the other man’s back as he departed. Was this really better? Oh well, at least he had the two of them separated. It irritated him to see them joined at the hip.

In no time, Phoenix and Blackquill settled to work in the enormous glass conference room. A tense silence prevailed over them. Several cases spread out in front of them, each attorney reviewing the evidence that the police had gathered in their investigation. Phoenix couldn’t help but tsk at some of it. Circumstantial evidence. He hated circumstantial evidence. There just simply wasn’t enough there to be certain they had the right person. The best they could do was subpoena some witnesses to see if something stuck, but they were just so unreliable .

“I can hear you hemming and hawing from all the way over here,” Blackquill remarked dryly from the other end of the table. “What’s got your goat?”

Phoenix sent him a dull look. He couldn’t really justify not answering, as it was work related. “I’m thinking of sending these back,” he replied. “We need more than this.”

Blackquill frowned. “Why? I saw all of those. The right lawyer could get those convictions with the right jury.”

“It shouldn’t be just about getting convictions,” he argued back. “It should be about making sure that we have the real culprit.”

At this, the other prosecutor, a felon himself, laid down the pages he was reading, to stare intently at him. It was a little unnerving to receive that undivided attention. That dark gaze in that hollowed face, hands folded across the desk like they were chained there. “Phoenix-dono, how long have you been prosecuting?”

“Five years. And I’ll ask you to use my last name.”

“Five years. Now Phoenix-dono,” of course he was ignored, “you must have seen all kinds of cases. Including cases where all the police have to go on is a hunch. Where they know they’re right and they fight tooth and nail to get their man. Sometimes, the evidence just isn’t there for a guilty act and never will be. Are we supposed to just let a murderer go free without a fight?”

“What happened to innocent until proven guilty?” Phoenix argued back.

“What happened to finding justice for the victims?” Blackquill replied calmly.

A bark of laughter. “That’s rich, coming from you!”

“That is neither here nor there,” the felon replied, completely unphased. “The fact of the matter is, you’ve got the wrong mindset for this line of work. You think like a defense attorney.”

Unexpectedly, the words cut deep, as painful and as bloody as any sword wound. A fire rose up in him, burning with unadulterated fury. His hands clenched into fists, eyes blazing as he threw himself to his feet. “You... you take that back!” he snarled.

Unperturbed, Blackquill merely raised an eyebrow. “So, that’s your trigger. Interesting,” he said, mostly to himself.  By now, they had gotten the guards’ attention, watched through the open door with their hands ready on their weapons. However, Blackquill went on undaunted, “Why so defensive, Phoenix-san? It should have been just an innocent remark.”

“Because I’m a von Karma, damn you!” Phoenix hissed. “I can’t be anything but a prosecutor! I’m the family’s last hope, the only one left who can save their reputation!” For months, months, when he was broken, it had been pushed into him again and again, mercilessly until he was- until he-

“What of Franziska von Karma? Is she not also a prosecutor?”

“Her record is broken,” he snapped.

“So is yours,” Blackquill argued, mercilessly pressing his advantage now. His dark eyes brooked no quarter. He leaned in, staring deep into his soul. “You lost five of your first cases. Your logic is flawed. Try again.”

“She’s not even in Germany anymore. She works with Interpol.”

“And you coming over to America is any better?

Phoenix seethed. Why was Blackquill getting on his case like this? What was he getting out of this?! But he couldn’t stop, not when he saw red. Logic flew right out the window, the very second he flew off the handle, “At least I understand them. I’m the only one who understands them! What they’ve been through!”

“What does that have to do with being a prosecutor? You’d do just as well being a defense attorney, saving the falsely accused,” Blackquill pushed. He was on his feet now, his fearsome presence pressing into him, while his words slipped through the cracks in his walls, “Face it, lad. Your story is a walking mess of contradictions. Now tell me, what is it that makes you so special?”

“I... You...” Phoenix struggled, unable to come up with an argument. (When had that happened before?) He couldn’t think straight. Everything was starting to spin.

“Come on, man!” the felon cried, pounding his fist against the table, sending a shock through him. “None of those guttural caveman grunts! Words!”

“I... I have to be.” Why was it suddenly getting hard to breathe? He was getting dizzy. “I have to... I’m the only one that can save them...”

Something grabbed him by the arms, keeping him steady before he could crumple to the floor. Blackquill’s words came low and fast now, “You’re not their saviour, Wright. That’s not your job.” Then distantly, “Don’t you all interfere! I’m not done with him!” Rough fingers grabbed him by the chin, keep his vision on the black eyes fixed to his. “Who told you these things, Wright? Who made you believe this?”

Drowning. He was drowning. He couldn’t breathe. The water was closing in.

I’m going to die!

“Get off of him! Phoenix!” a new voice cut in, distant and muffled, as though he were underwater. He was underwater, wasn’t he? The lights shimmered above him, until a familiar face stood over him. “Phoenix, it’s alright. I’m here. I’m here now.”

He looked just like he did years and years ago.

“Miles,” he said, a crooked smile coming to his lips. “I knew you’d save me. You always do.”

Those colorless eyes widened, right before they softened, filled with relief and need, and tears. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t do it sooner.”

“Better late than...” The whisper died on his lips, overcome by the dark.

Chapter Text

???????, ????
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When Phoenix next came to, it was to the sound of raised voices.

“I can’t believe you let Blackquill alone with him! That is the one thing we told you not to do!”

Where was he? Magenta cushions. Tea stains. Parfum de hawke. Ah, this was familiar.

“It wasn’t going anywhere, Ms. Fey. He refused to talk to Blackquill with me present.”

Ugh, his head was killing him. Possibly from all the raised voices all around him.

“Well now look at him! He could have ended up in the hospital just from that guy talking to him! And what’s he still doing here?!”

“He’s still fragile, lass. You’ll thank me for keeping an eye on him when he comes to.”

“I’ll thank you with my fist!”

Phoenix cracked an eye open, the light blinding him for just a moment before his vision adjusted. Around his office, he saw all his old friends gathered. All the ones that had been invited to dinner, now with context to accompany their faces. Maya and Edgeworth stood on either side of the sofa he laid on, looking like they were going to break into fisticuffs any second.

“Ihr sied viel zu laut,” he groaned, putting his arm over his eyes to try to go back to sleep.

“Nick!” Maya shrieked, forgetting her threats to grab his wrist. That got everyone else’s attention as they looked on him in equal parts relief and concern. “You’re awake! Why are you still speaking German?!”

Oh, had he? Second nature by this point. However, a half-smile spread to his lips regardless. “Well, gee, Maya, I’ve only been speaking it for the past five years,” he replied sardonically. “You didn’t think I was gonna forget it at the drop of a hat, were you? I’m not that air-headed.”

Just like with Edgeworth, Maya’s eyes widened as the realization hit her. Her face screwed up as tears threatened. “Oh, Nick!” she sobbed, the dam finally breaking as she wrapped her arms around his neck. Phoenix could only look sheepish as she cried against his chest, though she was soon joined by a tearful Pearls and even Larry. Looking up, he saw Edgeworth’s stony expression, as ever unaffected by such trivialities like emotions.

Unfortunately, Blackquill was also there. He stood by the window, gently rubbing a finger over Taka’s breast to keep her calm whilst he looked him over. Phoenix still didn’t like him. However, he gave a single nod, appreciative of what he put him through. Blackquill nodded back.

“How are you feeling, Phoenix?” Lana asked as the din of tears began to quiet. Beside her, Ema was taking notes on a notepad for who knew what kind of observational diary.

“Weird,” he admitted. “Everything’s still a little fuzzy and I’ve got some huge blocks missing. I remember most of the important stuff though.” Including... Including all those years. All those thoughts. “I... still kind of feel like... like I’ve got him in my head. Like I’m still dreaming that I’m someone else, even though I know who I am,” he added reluctantly, watching the flickers of dismay in the group.

“Unsurprising,” Blackquill muttered. “You’ve lived a completely different life for years. No one walks out of that unscathed.” He said, as though speaking from experience. Considering his position, he probably was. “Question is, do you remember how you got this way?”

“I... there was a hospital?” Phoenix answered uncertainly. “Yeah, I woke up... just like this... and...” He... He was getting a headache again. He rubbed a hand against his temple, trying to stave off a wave of nausea.

A hand touched his shoulder, squeezing it until he looked up. Edgeworth gave him a grim smile. “It’s alright. You don’t need to force yourself. Franziska and Gumshoe are over there now trying to get to the bottom of this. All you need to focus on is getting better. We’ll figure out why they sent you over here.”

“Sent me...?” Phoenix echoed, a moment of clarity coming to him. “Edgeworth, no one sent me anywhere. I ran away.”

“You... you what?” the fair-haired man asked, looking off balance for the first time.

It was coming back to him now. The slightly less fuzzy bit. “Yeah, I never told them I was leaving,” Phoenix went on. “I came because...” A smile stretched across his lips. “Because I wanted to see you, Edgeworth. I had to see you somehow. I was obsessed with the idea,” he admitted with a sheepish smile, awkwardly rubbing his neck. It was kind of embarrassing after all. “Sounds kind of familiar, doesn’t it?”

Far from looking happy, Edgeworth merely stared at him. In that moment, he never looked so lost. Like he’d just been told that the sun revolved around the Earth.

“So, what now, Mr. Nick?” Pearls asked, wiping the last of her tears on her sleeve. “Are you going to go back to being a defense attorney again?”

“Ummm.... let’s just take one step at a time, okay?” Phoenix said with a smile. He doubted that he still even had an office to go back to, let alone a practice. Plus... A shameful, guilty part of him squirmed with unease. He liked working with Edgeworth. He liked not having to hunt down work. Not having to decide between his principles and his checkbook. To still do justice. He liked his job now.

But how can I even be sure it’s for the right reasons?

“Oh, Nick, you should come stay with us!” Maya said brightly, mostly recovered except for her reddened eyes.

“Us?” he echoed.

“We’re staying at Mr. Edgeworth’s house!” Pearls clarified with a smile. “You should come too! We can have a slumber party!”

“You’ve been staying...” Phoenix said slowly, trying to parse it all together. Wait a minute, but that meant... “You’ve had them over for weeks?!” he demanded, looking over to the chief prosecutor. “Actual guests. For weeks?!”

“...Needs must,” Edgeworth replied with a shrug, still not able to quite meet his eye. Still awkward. Still unsure.

“You do yourself too little credit, Mr. Edgeworth. You’ve been very accommodating to us,” Iris said with a smile. God, Iris. It had been so long. He’d barely caught up with her, he’d been so focused on- “You should be among friends. I’ll be happy to stay with Lana or head home to free up space.”

“You can stay with me, sweet-!”

“No, Larry.”

Phoenix looked over to Edgeworth, thinking of that hotel room, of all that stuff he’d carried over from Germany. Of being alone with his thoughts. In the dark. A chill went through him. “Do you mind, Edgeworth?”

Those colorless eyes flicked away awkwardly. “N-no, it’s alright with me.”

“All Wright, huh?” Phoenix asked with a grin.

Edgeworth groaned. “I do not miss the puns.”

~o~

July 21, 2024
Edgeworth Residence
5:00 PM

After they were sure Wright had fully recovered from his fainting spell and picked up his things from the hotel, they arrived back at Miles’ home. For the entire day, the prosecutor lingered on the edge of things, letting everyone else take up all the space, all the attention. Phoenix seemed content to let things stay that way. To let him keep his distance.

It was just as well. Miles knew that it all had to be fantasy.

Wright looked on the unfamiliar house in worry. Doubtless wondering if this was yet another lapse in his memory. “Don’t worry, you’ve never been here,” he assured him. “I bought it after you went missing.”

The other man blushed and made a small ‘oh’ sound, but otherwise relaxed. In any case, his attention was easily and readily diverted to the Feys and Miles’ Steel Samurai collection. Whilst they were occupied in the living room, Miles attended to fixing up the recently vacated guest room and dinner.

“You can cook?!” Wright exclaimed when presented with the beef dish he’d made for dinner.

“It’s just a simple gulasch,” Miles replied, feeling awkward, “I would be eaten out of house and home if I had to take Ms. Fey out to dinner every night.”

“Hey! Don’t talk about a young maiden’s appetite like that! It’s impolite!” Maya huffed, even as she scooped up almost half of the bowl for herself, earning a chortle and bright laugh from Wright.

Much, much later that night when he’d finally convinced the excitable crew to get some sleep, Miles brought Pess with him into the bedroom. It took a little while for the little Pomeranian to settle, considering their new guest. However, she fell asleep long before he did. He lay awake, staring at the clock, consumed with thoughts of the other man in his house.

So close. Yet he seems further away than ever.

He knew he was being ridiculous. He’d known all along that Wright felt nothing for him. Whatever he and Phoenix von Karma had must have been some twisted side-effect of the other man’s damage. His eyes went to his hand, remembering too clearly the chaste kiss on his knuckles. His trembling fingers clenched the sheets, willing away the ache inside him.

A knock suddenly sounded at the door, distracting him from his thoughts. Pushing himself up from the bed, he called, “Come in.”

Wright appeared from the crack in the door. He looked sheepish and shaken, like a little boy who’d had a nightmare. “Edgeworth, I... can I sleep with you?” he asked, his voice a hushed whisper. He swallowed, struggling with his own pride to push out the words, “I don’t want to be by myself.”

“...Yes, of course,” Miles answered. What else could he say?

He’s still fragile. His entire world has been turned up on its head. It means nothing.

“You don’t mind that Pess is here, do you?” he gestured to his pup, who had of course taken up the very middle of the bed.

“Ah, you got me. All I wanted were puppy cuddles,” Wright said with a grin. With Pess acting as a sort of bed separator, he took the other side of the king-sized bed. It was so luxuriant, Miles couldn’t feel his movement, and so large it was unlikely they’d ever touch. Even so, he lay riveted and frozen as his brewing emotions left him paralyzed. Behind him, he heard Wright giggle, “Ach! Pess, not the face!” Glancing over his shoulder, he saw his pup doting on Wright with licks all over his cheeks and chin. It thankfully diminished some of the awkward tension.

“Don’t you two stay up too late,” he chided.

“Right, sorry. I’ll be quiet,” Wright said, giving him a sheepish smile. After a pause, he added softly, “Thank you, Edgeworth. For everything.”

A tight lump formed in his throat. He nodded and turned back to his side, facing away.

Miles didn’t sleep a wink for the rest of the night.

~o~

Edgeworth was gone from the bed when Phoenix woke up the next morning. Pess was gone too, although he could hear her yapping from downstairs. Phoenix was hard pressed to move, too warm and comfortable to want to do much of anything. He should have known that Edgeworth would have the most comfortable bed on the face of the earth.

He still couldn’t believe Edgeworth had let him sleep here last night. Phoenix von Karma would never have dared, too repressed and too polite to ask for such things. Now he was back, he remembered the slumber parties, the childhood innocence, the friendly affection, and familiarity.

It was completely at odds with the new feelings that bubbled up inside him. The thoughts and emotions of a stranger, that he couldn’t, wouldn’t , trust. Not yet anyway. All he could do was push it to one side until he could decide what to do about it.

It was the smell of coffee that finally enticed him out of bed. Trudging down the stairs, he found Edgeworth leaning against a countertop in the kitchen as he watched Pess guzzle down a bowl of food. “I thought you didn’t drink coffee,” Phoenix remarked, getting a mug for himself from the cabinet.

Edgeworth looked tired. Like he needed to sleep for a decade or more. “The life of chief prosecutor is a trying one.” His colorless eyes flicked to his. “You’ve seen me drink it in the office,” he reminded him.

“Oh. Right.” Another two pieces snapped together. The Edgeworth then and the Edgeworth now. They’re different.

“What makes you think that I need protection?”

“You never know when trouble will find you.”

“Trouble like you? Because you certainly spell trouble, Miles Edgeworth.”

A shudder ran down his shoulders. Phoenix buried his face in his mug of coffee, an excuse to keep from looking at the other man.

“I’m going to assume that you aren’t coming into the office today,” Edgeworth said, not noticing his inner turmoil. “I’ll take over your cases for the time being. Until you... decide what you want to do.”

Phoenix frowned, remembering just how swamped the office was already. The chief prosecutor most of all. “That’s a ton of cases, Edgeworth. You sure you can handle it?”

“Well, it’s a good thing I have Blackquill,” the prosecutor said with a shrug.

A dark flash of something went through Phoenix unexpectedly. His fingers tightened around the mug. “Right,” he said, keeping his voice perfectly even. “Good thing you have Blackquill.”

Edgeworth looked up at his odd tone, his eyes searching, but thought better than to remark on it. “What do you plan to do today?” he asked instead. Perfectly aware of the unsaid thing between the two of them. Yet he didn’t press, didn’t push. Handling him like a china doll. Phoenix was grateful for it.

“I think... I’ll get a haircut,” Phoenix said with a grin. He tugged on the long ponytail he’d been forced to grow out. “This has been a complete pain in the ass. I can’t wait until it’s short again. Oh! Maybe I’ll go clothes shopping too. Something less stuffy than that uniform.”

Edgeworth hummed in acknowledgment. “Very well. I’ll assume you can do that on your own.” He took a pause and added, “Don’t feel compelled to completely regress back into the Phoenix Wright of five years ago. Be who you want to be. Not who people expect you to be.”

Those were unexpectedly wise words from his old friend, someone who he’d always considered to be somewhat emotionally constipated. Not that he’d say that. That would just be rude. “...That advice didn’t come from Blackquill, did it?” he asked in suspicion.

The other man let out a huff of laughter. “No, not at all. You forget I also had to reinvent myself after my dealings with Manfred,” Edgeworth reminded him. A wry smile touched the corner of his lips. “In a way, I know exactly what you’re going through.”

Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth chooses death.

A chill went down Phoenix’s spine, as it always did when he thought of that note. Usually, it was accompanied by anger, indignation, and resentment. Not this time. Instead, he felt the ache and the confliction, mirrored so perfectly against the desperate confusion that muddled him up now. “...Sorry I got so pissed off about you disappearing,” he said softly.

“I could have worded that letter better,” Edgeworth allowed. “I just didn’t want anyone looking for me.” Hesitantly, he reached out with as much trepidation as a fawn, to gently squeeze his forearm. The touch sent an electric tingle through him, keeping so very still as to not scare Edgeworth off. “Take as much time as you need, Phoenix. We’re all here to support you.”

More touched than he could say, Phoenix nodded. “Thank you... Miles.”

Edgeworth’s face went pink. Growing flustered, he retracted his hand as if he’d been burned, looking everywhere and anywhere but him. “Y-yes well, you should eat,” he said, taking a sudden interest in futzing about his kitchen. “Eggs. We have eggs. I’ll just make those. Right.”

Despite himself, Phoenix couldn’t stop the wicked grin that stole over his lips. “Yes?” he asked innocently, earning himself a sharp glare from the prosecutor. That was when Maya and Pearls barreled down the stairs, tackling Phoenix and ready to take on the day.

~o~

July 22, 2024
Bracy’s Department Store
12:45 AM

For the umpteenth time that morning, Phoenix found himself staring in the mirror. He ran a hand through his newly cut hair, watching the way the spikes bounced right back to their natural form. Except for this one annoyingly stubborn spike that drooped right at his hairline. Vexed, he blew up at it, trying to will it into behaving like the rest of his hair.

“Oh my God, Nick,” Maya’s impatient voice cut across from the suit racks, “I know you’re in love with your hair, but we’re going to be here forever if you don’t hurry up!”

Caught off guard, Phoenix jumped up with a sheepish look. “What? Oh, right, sorry,” he said, focusing instead on the suit he’d picked out. It was his old, standby brand. A nice shade of blue, generally comfortable, could handle wear and random foot chases.

Yet, all the same, it didn’t feel right.

Phoenix looked to his tailored shirt underneath, which was more expensive than the whole ensemble put together. He wasn’t materialistic. He wasn’t. He didn’t care about price tags unless they were bills he couldn’t pay. ...But he was maybe just a tiny bit vain.

“This looks frumpy, doesn’t it?” he asked, holding out his arms for the girls to inspect.

“Who cares, Nick? It’s just a suit like any other suit! It all looks the same!” Maya retorted, her nose scrunched up in irritation.

Wow. Hangry, much?

Also, why was he getting fashion advice from a couple of spirit mediums? Reluctantly, Phoenix pulled out a small wad of cash from his wallet and handed it over to Pearls. “Why don’t you and Maya go get some lunch? I’m just going to pop over to Lordly Tailor to see what they have there.”

At once, Maya’s demeanor changed completely. “Lordly Tailor! We’ll go with you!” she said brightly, “They have the best restaurant on the top floor!”

~o~

July 22, 2024
Chief Prosecutor’s Office
5:55 PM

“Blackquill, where’s your action plan for the trial tomorrow? I need it in my inbox in the next ten minutes.” BEEP “Ferguson, I need you prepped for the bail hearings tomorrow.” BEEP “Dox, you’re taking over Phoenix’s plea agreements for the time being.--No, for the last time, I don’t know when he’s going to be back.”

It had been like this all day.

Chained to his desk and to his intercom, Miles made the best he could of his short staff, who were all already overworked even before the emergency. Yes, he did have supervisors underneath him, but everyone was still scrambling to recover from Phoenix von Karma’s sudden ‘illness’.

Miles hadn’t appreciated until now just how much he’d come to rely on Phoenix in his short tenure here. His von Karma training had made his efficiency in case management second to none (save for himself) and he trusted the man’s judgment implicitly. It was like having a limb severed without him here.

Who knows if he’s ever going to return. I wouldn’t blame him.

Just why did he have to go make himself so indispensable? Miles cursed him and his own foolishness for coming to depend on someone so transient. Suddenly his intercom beeped again as the voice of his long-time secretary came in, [M-Mr. Edgeworth, you have a guest.]

What? It was six at night. Who would come here at this hour?

A bevy of political figures came to mind, making him groan internally. Wonderful. “Very well. Show them in.” Straightening up, he consolidated his cluttered paperwork all into a neat pile on his desk, ready to receive his unscheduled visitor.

What he hadn’t expected, was the ghost of Phoenix Wright made flesh.

Phoenix, his hair cut short to his trademark spikes, dressed to the nines in his favored blue. Miles stared at him in shock, even though he’d seen him as recently as this very morning. Though he’d seen him for weeks prior. But this was different. This was Phoenix. Who gave him a cocky grin as he continued to stare, who looked so self-assured from years of opposition in the courtroom, who could be so cheeky from a childhood of shared experiences. This was his Wright.

Yet it wasn’t at the same time. This Phoenix was sharper, wiser, more mature, more filled out. Just... more. Miles’ mouth went dry as he looked over the fresh set of clothes, superimposed over the cheap blue suit that the man could hardly afford half a decade ago. He kept his favored blue, but in a sleek bespoke suit that showed off his broad shoulders and tapered waist and hugged his legs in just the right way. Accented with a light blue silk waistcoat and just a touch of ornamentation with a gold chain.

“So~? What do you think?” Phoenix asked, though his cocksure grin said that he knew he looked stunning.

“Hngh...” Miles choked, his mind drawing a complete blank. It was humiliating.

Wright laughed, though not in a taunting fashion. “That good, huh?” he teased. “Y’know, Fräulein Maisel didn’t even recognize me when I came in! Although I think your secretary was going to faint when she saw me.”

“I... Wright, I thought you... You were- Weren’t coming in,” Miles struggled, trying to piece together something that sounded like a string of coherent noises.

“Oh, well~” at this, Phoenix turned a touch sheepish, “maybe I wanted to show off a bit. Give you a preview for when you got home tonight.” Good God, did the man not realize how much innuendo he was squeezing into his words? “Also, to invite you out to dinner,” he added without missing a beat. “Iris and Lana are planning to leave tomorrow, so we’re all going out again tonight. Do you think you can make it?”

That was a damned good question. Miles looked to the hefty caseload on his desk. There were too many fires that needed putting out. He’d been planning on leaving much later in the evening. “I don’t think it’s possible at this point,” he replied. “I will be sorry to miss it. Please give my regrets to Lana and Ms. Hawthorne.”

“Oh,” a crestfallen look came over his old friend’s face, just a little bit of shine diminishing. “That’s okay. I understand. I’m sure you’ll be missed. I’ll see you later, I guess.”

“Later,” Miles agreed, already walking back to his desk to get back to work.

Wright took a couple of steps to the door before he paused. Spinning on his heel, he turned and asked impulsively, “Do you want any help?”

The question came so out of left field that Miles froze in his seat. His eyes snapped up, trying to gauge the sincerity in the other man. “What? Are you sure you can?”

“Been doing it longer than I’ve been a defense attorney,” Wright reminded him, a bitter edge to his smile.

“That’s not what I meant,” Miles frowned.

“I know.” Phoenix relaxed a little before he strode back to the desk. Shrugging off his nice new jacket onto the back of a chair (giving Miles a perfect view of his hips and snug waistcoat, damn him), he rolled up his sleeves and waved for some folders. “Give’m here. I’ll take a look.”

They worked in silence for another hour. Phoenix had always been a fast reader. He had to be with his fly-by-the-seat-of-his-pants method of litigation, gleaning only the most important facts and inconsistencies from the cases before making snap judgment calls. Soon several cases were littered with highlighted text and post-it notes filled with questions and next action steps. Grateful for the assistance, Miles buried himself in the cases and typed out several emails with instructions, including the ones that Phoenix judiciously imparted. Another half hour, they might actually be available for a late dinner.

“I like this.”

Miles looked up. Wright kept his eyes downward, still working, as though guilty for his quiet admission. It must have taken a lot for him to voice such a thought aloud. As though he might betray his former self. “...I like it too,” Miles responded gently.

It was like a pardon. Relief swept over the other man, who looked up and grinned. “Alright, let’s do this. One last push!”

Chapter Text

July 23, 2024
Café Bon
1:20 PM

“I’m so glad that we were able to have lunch before I left, Phoenix.”

“Me too. Sorry we haven’t really had a chance to talk.”

Iris and Phoenix sat together at one of the cafes nearby the train station, waiting for the minutes to tick by. Lana had already left back to Seattle in the early morning, while Maya and Pearls were distracting Larry to give the pair some private time. Edgeworth had his own mess to deal with at work, officially declaring Phoenix von Karma’s medical leave of absence. Phoenix felt a little bad for leaving him the lurch, but they both figured he couldn’t technically work (for pay) until he revoked his death certificate. That was the afternoon’s big challenge. For now...

Iris smiled warmly at him, sending a familiar rush of affection through him. It would likely never go away for as long as he lived. First loves were just like that. “It’s alright, Phoenix. You had a lot going on in your mind, I’m sure.” Even now, she was as sweet and forgiving as ever, unchanged from that pedestal he placed her on so long ago.

“Speaking of, how is living with Miles?”

Phoenix froze up, like he’d been caught with his hand in a cookies jar. “What do you mean?” he asked, feigning innocence.

Okay, maybe she wasn’t as sweet.

Iris canted her head, giving him a knowing look. “Phoenix, I know you. I know when you’re thinking about someone with affection. You get a certain look in your eye when you’re daydreaming. Which you certainly got when you were sulking when ‘Herr’ Edgeworth was cancelling your lunch dates.”

Phoenix fisted his hands underneath the table. “Iris, I... I can’t right now,” he gritted out as he forced the words.

“I understand, Phoenix,” Iris replied gently. “I only ask that you don’t bottle up how you feel. I know you like to hide behind that sarcastic front of yours when I’m not around. More important because you’re staying with him now. You cannot just ignore your feelings or else you’ll burst.”

Sighing, he ran a finger down the knot of his brow. “I have to ignore my feelings, Iris. I can’t trust a single thought I had as that- as him. I’ve never felt this way about Edgeworth before. Of course I’m going to think it’s suspicious that I start thinking about him this way when I was under their influence.”

“Why? Do you think that the von Karmas influenced you in some way in regards to him?”

“I... well, no,” he admitted, pained. “...Maybe. Maybe as a side-effect. They told me not to talk about him, so of course the first thing I do when I get a chance is to look him up. When I did, it changed everything. I became so embarrassingly infatuated with him, Iris.” His cheeks burned with mortification just remembering it. “Guh, I was such a fanboy. I would never have gushed over him so much if I’d remembered our history together.”

“You can’t work past your rivalry.”

Phoenix scoffed at the assumption. “No, of course not. He was a friend. Is a friend. One of the best.”

“So, you never thought of him that way because you always thought of him as a friend.”

The words very nearly laid Phoenix flat. Stunned, he could hardly react to the words. Only as a friend? That couldn’t be- There had to be something to it besides that. However, Iris was not done:

“Perhaps it was a side-effect of the amnesia. Not the von Karmas.”

Phoenix’s mind whirled to spot the contradiction, body primed for fight or flight. Anything to keep from thinking about this. Accepting it. Maybe he could just bluff past it like in court-

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have pressed,” Iris suddenly relented, sensing something was off. She was more perceptive than most about his feelings. “You’ve had enough life altering revelations this week. I’m just concerned about you.”

Suddenly, there was an odd pulse. Like the faintest echo of the magatama. Even though he didn’t have it on his person, the instinct was still there. Phoenix narrowed his eyes. Concerned about him? Just him...? Throwing out a bluff for reaction’s sake, he asked, “And Edgeworth too?”

Iris’ eyes flicked downwards as she bit her lip. Right on the money.

Oh Iris.

“We’re both kind of hopeless, aren’t we?” he said with a wry smile. He held out a hand, gratified when she slipped her delicate fingers in his and squeezed them.

“It’s alright, Phoenix. I knew I never had a chance,” Iris said with one of her soft, heartbreaking smiles.

~o~

July 23, 2024
Courthouse
3:00 PM

Phoenix was unaccountably nervous as he stood inside the courtroom. He didn’t know why. He’d been in a courtroom not even a week ago and had been in and out of the court for years beforehand. But it had been so long since he’d been in a courtroom as himself.

...And he wasn’t exactly an expert on civil law besides.

Sensing his trepidation, Maya looked up to him and punched him in the arm. “Don’t worry, Nick. You got this.” Maya and Pearls stood by, ever ready to cheer him on and support him. It was nostalgic in a way. “Don’t be intimidated by the fact that you have no case to tear apart but your own!”

... Gee thanks.

“All rise!” the bailiff called out, riveting Phoenix into ramrod straight posture. Ugh, he had to train himself out of that. However, he scarcely had time to think on it when he saw an all too familiar face stride out of chambers and into the courtroom. W-wait a minute. Judge Baldy?! What was he doing in civil court?!

The Judge nodded to the small group gathered for the hearing. “Good afternoon. You’ll have to excuse me for being a little rough on these procedures. I’m subbing for a friend who’s having a particularly good game on the 9th hole.”

...Is that even legal?

“Now,” the Judge said with a clap of his hand. “I believe we’re here for a death certificate revocation hearing. Will the plaintiff please rise.”

“Good afternoon, your Honor,” Phoenix said, jumping up to his feet. The new suit was having a little bit of an effect in bolstering his confidence, at least. Still, he’d been hoping to run into anyone else but Judge Baldy. “I’m filing on behalf of myself.”

“Why, I say, you have the exact same name of this defense attorney prodigy I used to know. “ The Judge narrowed his eyes. “You look an awful lot like him too.”

Phoenix couldn’t help but be a little miffed. He was in front of this judge not last week. Was he that unrecognizable? Still, it was better than he could have hoped for. (Aside from getting a different judge entirely.) “Your Honor, it’s me. Phoenix Wright. I’m back.”

The Judge’s eyes bulged. “I knew it! It’s a ghost! GHOST!” he cried, growing hysterical. “It’s a Phoenix Phantom!”

“Um... Your Honor, I’m here for a death certificate revocation. I’m not a ghost. I’m alive. That’s the point,” Phoenix said, an all too familiar feeling of exasperation coming on. 

“I have to say, this is most unusual. A ghost petitioning for a death certificate revocation?” the Judge murred, stroking his beard. “Can phantoms even file suits?”

Ach, Mensch.

“Um. Anyway...” Phoenix said, trying to get back on track. “I have a witness here who can attest that I am in fact Phoenix Wright and so can prove I’m not deceased.” He nodded briefly to Ema who stood on the sidelines with two thumbs up. She was more excited than anyone to testify in court on his behalf.

“Now, wait a minute. Where were you when we had our Presumptive Death in Absentia hearing?” the Judge demanded. “Your timing is most inconvenient.”

“I... apologize. I was detained,” Phoenix said through gritted teeth, “But I’m definitely here and I’m alive, so I’d like to file a motion to vacate my death certificate.” He handed the papers over to Pearls, who helpfully ran it over to the Judge to peruse. “Here are lab reports and fingerprint analysis that provide proof that I am Phoenix Wright.”

The Judge perused it briefly, flipping through the pages as he hemmed and hawed. All Phoenix could do was wait patiently on pins and needles, waiting for his opinion. At last, the Judge said, “I see nothing here about what you’ve been doing for the past five years.”

Phoenix swallowed. He’d been kind of hoping to avoid this altogether. “That’s... complicated.”

“Mr. Wright,” the Judge said sternly, “you have to give some kind of account of your whereabouts for the past five years that would have prevented you from coming to your Presumptive Death in Absentia hearing. Not to mention, have you even been keeping up on your CLEs, Mr. Wright? I don’t see your attorney badge. Have you been keeping compliant?”

“I’ve been practicing law for the past five years!” Phoenix protested. “I’ve been completely compliant. I was just...” going by a completely different name and identity. “I was abroad. I had no idea that I was considered dead and never received any notice about the hearing.”

The Judge narrowed his eyes. “Wait a minute. You remind me an awful lot of that new boy that’s been showing up in the courtroom. You wouldn’t happen to have any relation to that Phoenix von Karma that’s new to the Prosecutor’s Office, would you?”

Phoenix could feel a cold sweat crawl down his neck. He glanced around, seeing Ema, Maya and Pearls look at him expectantly. “Well, Your Honor, let’s just say... hypothetically, I was Phoenix von Karma. Would that help my case at all?”

“Well, it would certainly explain where you’ve been,” the Judge mused. “But then that would mean you would have to incriminate yourself by admitting that you’ve been committing fraud by assuming a false identity.” Phoenix felt that cold sweat trickle into horror. “But surely,” the Judge said, “you’ve always been a fine upstanding citizen and wouldn’t have done such a thing willingly, would you?”

“N-no, of course not. I mean, we’re still talking hypotheticals here,” Phoenix replied with a slightly shaky laugh.

“Naturally,” the Judge replied. “So in the hypothetical, the only way you could assume your identity as Wright scot free was if you proved that you were following continuing education requirements as a different illicit identity that was forced upon your person. I don’t suppose that in this hypothetical, you would have any proof of this, would you?”

“Hypothetically... we’re working on it,” Phoenix said, sending an imploring look over to Ema, who could only shrug helplessly.

“Oh good! I would hate for you to hypothetically be sued for fraud and arrested for providing a false identity while working in civil office,” the Judge replied cheerfully. “Though now it seems that you don’t have any legal authority to be filing this motion in the first place.” Coughing slightly, he picked up his gavel and said in a so familiar tone, “Now, due to the lack of validity brought by the plaintiff, I hereby render my verdict. Guilty!”

The gavel very nearly hit its stand before the bailiff whispered to the Judge. “Ah, my mistake! Motion denied!” With that, the gavel cracked against the wood, handing out one of the very few losses Phoenix had ever suffered in his career. His first and only civil suit to boot. 

Phoenix could only stare hopelessly as the Judge guffawed at the bracing change of pace, right before he began changing into golf gear to join his MIA colleague. This whole thing was ridiculous, but first and foremost on his mind was one thought:

I’m not cut out for Civil Court.

~o~

July 23, 2024
Edgeworth Residence
7:00 PM

Phoenix nursed his headache from dealing with this civil court fiasco all afternoon. He was screwed. Totally and completely screwed. He didn’t know of any easy way to get out of this particularly gnarly Catch 22 he found himself him. File as Wright and probably get sued and/or arrested AND be on the hook with the California State Bar Association. File as von Karma and he’d be negating the premise of his entire motion that he was Wright. Not to mention the Judge was absolutely correct that his von Karma persona wasn’t kosher at all.

Basically, he needed a lawyer.

Am I going to have to retake the Bar?

A shiver went through him. Phoenix really didn’t want to think about it at the moment. Nor did he want to think about how when he met with said lawyer, they were most likely going to say that he’d better sue Friedrich and Josephine (and win) if he wanted a chance to get out of this clean as a whistle. Which meant filing a police report back in Munchen. Which meant getting... involved with them again.

He wished desperately that he could just forget about the whole thing. But wishing just wasn’t going to make it so.

Maybe I can just wallow in self-pity for a few more weeks.

Suddenly, he heard Pess begin to yap excitedly, seconds before the front door opened. He looked up to see Edgeworth returning from work. “Hey, you’re back early,” he called. Well, earlier than he expected. “Maya and Pearls are getting carry-out. Should be back any minute.”

The other man grunted softly in acknowledgement. Phoenix winced in sympathy. Must’ve been a long day if he didn’t even have the energy for words. Maybe now was not the best time to mention he might have been working illegally in the prosecutor’s office and compromised every case he ever worked on. Though... Edgeworth must’ve realized that surely. That’s why he never let him work alone.

Still, he’d rather not chance giving him a bigger headache right now.

Taking a glass from the cabinet, he pushed over a glass of wine from the open bottle on the counter. “Here, you look like you could use it.”

“Thank you, Wright,” Edgeworth said gratefully. Pess yapped below, pawing as his shin for attention. “Pess, no. Sit~” he called, distracted into training his overstimulated pup.

Thinking back on what Iris said, Phoenix leaned onto the kitchen counter to study Edgeworth, Miles, as he settled down from work. Really looked at him with unbiased eyes, without the layers of memory to shade his aesthetics. Watched as he shrugged off his long jacket off his shoulders and slipped his cravatte off of his bare neck, running a hand through his soft, silky hair as his sharp, intelligent eyes looked downwards.

No one told me he was so handsome.

Phoenix swallowed. Hard. He spun his head away as he fought down the flush of heat from spreading up to his cheeks. Not to mention the dark, hungry twist in his gut that could only mean one thing: bonafide physical attraction.

Scheiße, I don’t think I can sleep with him anymore!

“Wright, exactly how much ‘grape juice’ have you been partaking in?” Edgeworth asked, his eyes narrowing in suspicion as he caught sight of Phoenix’s flushed cheeks. “You do realize that I only have the alcoholic variety in my possession.”

“Har har har,” Phoenix replied with as much sarcasm as he could muster. The slightly tremble in his voice might have given him away. “And I’ve only had one glass thank you very much.”

The switch flipped instantly to concern. “Then are you feeling under the weather?” Miles asked, his frown deepening. He reached out reflexively, as if to check his temperature, but then thought better of it. Good thing, because Phoenix felt as hypercharged as a live wire. He might explode if Miles touched him right then.

“No. I’m fine. Really,” he said quickly, wanting to change the subject completely. The house phone suddenly rang abrasively, the perfect distraction. “I’ll get it!” Phoenix jumped at it. “Might be my lawyer.”

“Your what?” Miles squawked, just as Phoenix put the receiver to his ear.

[Kleiner Bruder,] an acerbic, horrifyingly familiar voice said over the line. [Ich habe versucht, dich die ganze Nacht zu erreichen. Ich habe Neuigkeiten.]

No... no, it can’t be... That voice.

Phoenix couldn’t move. A wave of cold terror washed over him, riveting him to the spot and paralyzing his limbs. How did she find him?

[Hallo?] the annoyed voice called over the line. [Wer ist das?]

Seeing his face drained of blood, Miles grabbed the phone from his hand and demanded sharply, “Who is this?!” A second later, he sagged in relief. “Ah, nein, Franziska. Viele Entschuldigungen. That was Phoenix.” His hand came over to grasp Phoenix’s forearm, holding him tightly and not letting go. All Phoenix could do was shiver through the wash of panic that had shaken him to the core. When had he become so broken?

Miles’ eyes narrowed, his voice becoming more barbed, “Ich weiß es nicht, Franziska. Maybe you sound exactly like your devil sister. ...Well, you can make me do that birthday number again, but I will not hold my tongue against her. Sie ist dafür verantwortlich!” The grip on Phoenix’s arm tightened until it was nearly vice-like, bringing some awareness back to his own body. “Aussehen,” Edgeworth said through gritted teeth, “we are going nowhere with this. You know you and I will never see eye to eye on your Familie. You said you had news.”

Phoenix was only dimly aware of the conversation as it played out, focusing instead on coming to grips with his own body. The shakes were settling, his body anchored to the almost painful hold that Miles had on him. Eventually, both began to ease. By the time the call ended, Phoenix had control over himself again whilst Miles’ hand was merely comforting. “Sorry,” he muttered, slowly sliding his arm out of Edgeworth’s grip.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Miles replied softly. “We all have our own scars. Yours just happen to still be open wounds.” His colorless eyes lowered, searching his. For what he didn’t know. Yet he couldn’t help but get caught up in their subtle but undeniable intensity. “Phoenix-” Miles started.

Before Edgeworth could finish, Pess was at attention, barking at the door. A second later, Maya and Pearls burst in, carrying two boxes that smelled strongly of delicious baked cheese and tomato sauce. “We’re back!” Maya declared victoriously. “Sorry it took so long. The line to that joint took forever!”

Suddenly realizing how close they were, Phoenix and Miles abruptly pulled away from each other. Thankfully before the two spirit mediums caught sight of them. “You know, we could have ordered delivery,” Phoenix called out as the pair entered the kitchen.

“No way! We had to get it from Gibauld’s and they don’t do delivery!” Maya declared, setting the food down. “It’s worth the wait. I promise. Oh hey, Edgeworth! You want some pizza?”

“Maya, I thought you were getting three pizzas.”

“Hey, you try walking all the way back here without getting hungry.”

Miles looked indecisive for only a moment. “If it’s from Gibauld’s, I could be persuaded to have some.”

“HA! I told you so, Nick! Gibauld’s is the best!” Maya crowed victoriously. Soon, they were all settled at the dinner table, a sense of normalcy descending on the group. The uneasiness and tension all but evaporated with the presence of the girls. Which was when Maya of course decided to bring up Phoenix’s legal troubles. “Edgeworth, did you hear that Nick has to get his own lawyer? Can you believe that?”

“I... heard,” Edgeworth replied slowly, while Phoenix shot Maya the dirtiest look that he could manage. “I’m going to assume that things did not go smoothly at your revocation hearing.”

“It’s was really awful,” Pearls said, giving Phoenix a sympathetic look. “The Judge didn’t even remember Mr. Nick at first and then when he did, he called him all kinds of names like ‘Ghost!’ and ‘Phoenix Phantom!’. Then said a whole bunch of complicated stuff about doing illegal stuff, which is not Mr. Nick’s fault at all! Then he threw us all out before he even heard Mr. Nick argue his case!”

...Could we not relive this trauma?

“Personally, I think the Phoenix Phantom would make an awesome superhero,” Maya said with an authoritative air. To Phoenix’s horror, he could see that Miles was contemplating the idea as well.

“It will just be easier if I got some help,” Phoenix said quickly, trying to redirect the conversation before it went completely off the rails. “Y’know, someone who’s an expert in civil law. I’m going to meet with Ben Goldstein to see if he’ll take my case.”

Miles frowned. “I see,” he said, his tone clipped and cold. “Well, I’ve heard excellent things about Ben. You would be in very good hands.” Phoenix had never heard words and tone so at odds with each other.

...Is he mad I didn’t ask him for help?

Kind of ridiculous, seeing as Miles was so swamped at the office he’d hardly be able to help anyway. Plus he wasn’t any kind of civil law expert either! Still, Edgeworth could be strangely capricious about these kinds of things. 

“However, considering the nature of this case, it seems unwise to choose someone with no international experience whatsoever, legal or otherwise,” Miles went on without missing a beat. “Not to mention, considering the parties you are dealing with, it would be advantageous to pick someone who is intimately familiar with them. It seems as though you didn’t put any kind of thought into your choice at all, besides Googling civil litigators.”

Teufel noch mal! He IS mad.

Maya and Pearls weren’t any kind of Edgeworth emotion experts either, but they knew a fight brewing when they saw one. And it wasn’t the kind that one wanted to witness inside a courtroom. “Sounds like you two need to chat,” Maya said in a surprisingly display of discretion. “C’mon Pearl. Let’s go think up some Phoenix Phantom storyboards up in our room.”

With them gone, it just left him and Edgeworth. Phoenix swallowed, as he tried to hold the other man’s steady accusing gaze.

“Oh come on, Edgeworth, I thought you’d be busy. You are busy,” Phoenix protested as the other man’s glower worsened. “It’s nothing personal. Plus you’ve helped me out so much already.”

“It seems rather personal,” Miles said in a slow, controlled voice, “that you would deny me my greatest strength in assisting you with your trials. Especially when my attempts so far have been grossly inadequate,” he added bitterly, his eyes casting downwards.

“Inad- Edgeworth, none of this would have happened without you!” Phoenix insisted, wondering why now of all times the other man’s self-esteem issues would suddenly rear their ugly head. “Sure, you didn’t do it by yourself, but that’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Blackquill brought you back,” the prosecutor replied. “Maya and Pearls keep you grounded. Iris... provides the emotional support.” Phoenix had no idea where he got that from, but Miles wasn’t done. “I have contributed nothing of note so far.”

Aside from bringing them altogether. Aside from putting a roof over his head, a bed to sleep in. His own bed even. His small, precious nuggets of wisdom. His understanding. His absolute acceptance.

Miles, how can you not see how amazing you are?

“You’ve done everything for me already,” Phoenix replied, putting as much heart and feeling as Miles did when he gave him advice. 

But the law is where he shines. The law is where he puts his faith, his confidence. It’s our battlefield and our playground. The one thing we both have in common. I should have realized...

On impulse, he reached out, taking the top of Miles’ hand. He cracked a grin at the way he jumped slightly, but didn’t let go. Instead, he met those wide eyes and said, “But... if you can do more... Will you fight for me? Will you be my lawyer?”

Miles’ gaze softened into an expression that made Phoenix feel warm and safe and adored. “I would be honored,” he spoke, squeezing his hand back and sending a small flurry through Phoenix’s stomach. All too suddenly, this reminded him of a marriage proposal, which sent a fresh thrill of nervous energy through him.

It was slightly ruined by the vicious smile that spread over Edgeworth’s face, like a warlord out for bloodlust. “I cannot wait to tear them into shreds for what they’ve done to you,” he said with a particularly evil glint to his eye. “They will rue the day they decided to tangle with us again.”

It made Phoenix a very different kind of nervous, as he laughed weakly in reply.

I really hope I didn’t just accidentally resurrect the Demon Prosecutor.

Getting some control over his savage instincts, Miles leaned forward, interlacing his fingers as he said in a conspiratol tone, “Now, that being said, I should inform you what I’ve heard from Franziska on their findings...”

Chapter Text

~o~

An Interlude

~o~

This past week had been an incredibly trying time for Franziska von Karma. After working with Interpol, she expected certain standards from her team. Being thrown back with the likes of the foolish, incompetent Gumshoe and a self-proclaimed thief on her brother’s whim was bringing back a kind of nostalgia she didn’t want to relive. Even the slightly more competent Franco Bernstein was hardly up to snuff.

Sitting together in the sergeant’s office after hours was only a reminder that they were working outside the bounds of the law. Crowded around documents that no one could have possibly gotten without doing something incredibly illegal. Franziska did not ask questions. Plausible deniability.

“These are damned perfect. If you didn’t tell me this guy didn’t already exist, I wouldn’t believe you,” Bernstein growled as they flipped through the various pages of certificates and documents related to the Phoenix von Karma persona. Franziska would have scarcely believed it if she didn’t see them for herself.

Why, Josephine? Why would you do this?

She’d never been particularly close to her elder sister. She was far older than she was and was already out of the house by the time that Miles moved in with them. Worse, she decided to pursue a medical degree instead of the law, meaning she may as well have been dead in their father’s eyes. She was never invited to dinner, to holidays, to court debuts. It was only Onkel Friedrich that showed her any support and paid for Josephine’s education.

Manfred was a hard man. Franziska would never deny that.

It just made her even more incredulous that Josephine would do anything like this. To be in on some kind of conspiracy to take revenge against the man who took down their father? Out of some misguided sense of loyalty to a man who had all but disowned her?

“They’re too perfect,” Bernstein said as he laid the documents down. “Because these are real.”

Franziska and Faraday both balked, while the only non-German speaker Gumshoe looked on in confusion. “That’s not possible!” Franziska cried, pounding a hand on the desk. “We have evidence that fool Phoenix Wright is the one in Los Angeles right now!”

“Then he’s not the one that’s in these documents,” Bernstein retorted, pointing a finger down at the papers. “There’s a completely different Phoenix von Karma out there. The fact that you or anyone else hasn’t heard of him just proves the kind of shady shit that your family is involved in. No offense Fraulein von Karma.”

Franziska could hardly have time to be offended when confronted with the sheer idiocy this fool was spouting. “Bernstein, are you telling me that I’ve had some relation with such an idiotic name wandering around Germany for this whole time?!” she demanded, her fingers clawing for the whip she’d retired. “How is it possible?!”

“Your family is involved in shady shit,” Bernstein repeated unapologetically. “You’re not even asking the right question. Not that how this other Phoenix von Karma exists, or how your Herr Wright could have replaced him.”

“Where is the real Phoenix von Karma now?” Kay asked, her eyes widening in realization. “If Mr. Edgey’s friend could have replaced him, something must have happened to him in the first place.”

An unwanted shiver went down Franziska's shoulders. What was this? Was this really happening all over again? Then she shut it down, tamping down her heart. She had no need for emotional outbursts. It was only the facts that mattered. Right now, she needed more.

“If this other von Karma exists, then we will find him,” Franziska said.

“If he’s not already dead and buried,” Bernstein replied cynically.

“We will find him,” she repeated, hissing out the words. “Then I will use him to make Friedrich and Josephine answer for their actions.” Pushing herself away from her desk, she found her phone. “For now, I need to call my brother and let him know what we’ve found out.”

The first thing on her phone was the video she blackmailed out of her little brother, but even the record of the most utterly embarrassing moment of his life did nothing to alleviate her mood. Feeling a familiar vile feeling sinking through her veins, she dialed up Miles’ number. She was not looking forward to him throwing his vengeful attitude back in her face, that loathsome ‘I told you so’ smugness.

And damn him if he wasn’t right.

Chapter Text

July 23, 2024
Edgeworth Residence
9:00 PM

Wright could hardly process the words that Miles had told him. Miles could scarcely believe it himself, but Fraziska would hardly tell him something so ridiculous unless she had something to back it up.

“You... you’re telling me... there’s an actual Phoenix von Karma?” Wright said slowly. His posture was all wrong. Stiff like frozen prey. As if he moved then this was reality and he would have to live in it. It set Miles on edge. A small manic laugh escaped Wright, then another. “You’ve got to be joking. This is one giant flippin’ joke.”

“It’s still only a theory,” Miles replied, treading carefully around the issue. This had to sink in slowly, else he was afraid Phoenix might shatter. “They need to follow up and actually find him.”

“But... why would they...” He rubbed a hand down his face, his eyes staring at nothing as he began to tremble. “Miles, what the hell did they do to this me for?! Why the hell did they ruin my life!”

“We don’t know yet,” Miles replied helplessly, his heart twisting at the sheer distress in the other man. “We will find out. I swear it. I-.”

“I lost five years of my life!” Wright snarled, pushing himself up to his feet, his fists clenched at his sides as he radiated from an anger that could only come from desperation. “I lost my home. I lost my practice. I lost my career . I may have to retake the goddamned Bar! I’m still legally dead! And now to make things worse, I was living someone else’s life!”

Phoenix had never gotten this angry before. Maybe... maybe it just hadn’t hit him before. The Truth of it was breaking down the walls of denial that he’d been living in since he ‘awoke’. All Miles could do was let the man vent it out before it poisoned him completely.

“I could almost understand if it was vengeance! Payback for what I did to Manfred von Karma. Ruin me, just like I ruined their family!” He whirled on Miles, slamming a hand on the table as if they were in court pointing out a contradiction in testimony. “But they didn’t retroactively create a family member decades ago just to pin it on me! So what the hell is all this?!”

“We’ll find out,” Miles repeated again, putting a hand tentatively on Phoenix’s shoulder. He winced when the former defense attorney only shook him off, but powered through it. “Wright, we will. And I swear to you, I’m going to make them pay for what they did to you.”

“That won’t give me back what they took from me,” Phoenix whispered. He crumpled down, burying his face in his hands. The desolation in him was more than Miles could stand.

“...You didn’t lose everything,” Miles said softly. “You didn’t lose what matters most.”

Those blue eyes slid up to his and suddenly Miles couldn’t breathe. Like he was withholding promises that he couldn’t give. But wanted to. He wanted to so badly. Instead, he bailed like he always did and said, “You have all the ones who still care about you. All of them. Even Franziska is on your side.”

“The enemy, huh?” Phoenix asked sardonically.

“She’s not,” Miles replied, a touch defensive for his sister’s sake. “I act like it sometimes, but she has a good heart. Not that she’ll ever admit it. So there’s at least one good von Karma out there.”

Wright didn’t seem entirely convinced. Suddenly, his eyes widened, as if hit with an epiphany. Miles had seen that look enough times to realize that the other man must have deduced something important. Reaching into his pocket, Wright pulled out an all too familiar locket, holding it open for Miles to see. The picture of Benedikta von Karma. “I’ve been wondering about this. It never made sense to me. Why would Onk- would Friedrich assign me a fiancée? His own daughter no less?”

Why the hell is he still carrying that around? Miles thought as he fought down a bitter pill of incredulity and jealousy. Instead he tried to focus on the content of the words. “You’re saying the real Phoenix von Karma and Benedikta actually were engaged.”

“Right,” Phoenix nodded, turning the locket up in his palm to stare at it. There was no affection in his eyes, just grim determination. “She died the year before I was... assimilated. I never got the story about how she died from Onkel Friedrich. He said it was better that I’d forgotten. That it was too traumatic. What if PVK’s disappearance has something to do with her death?”

“PVK?” Miles echoed.

“Phoenix von Karma is kind of a mouthful,” Wright replied abashedly.

And he likely wants to distance himself from the ‘other’ Phoenix. “PVK it is then,” Miles agreed. “There’s some merit to this. I’ll ask Franziska if she can find out more details about it. I was not able to find many details myself other than an obituary in the newspaper.”

Phoenix blinked. “You already looked her up?”

A flush of embarrassment went through the chief prosecutor at the innocent inquiry. He was not going to say that when Phoenix was convinced he was infatuated with her, he had done everything he could to find her and discredit her in a pique of vengeful jealousy. It was distressing to find absolutely nothing on her, other than she was Friedrich’s only child. Which he had already known. “Yes,” he answered curtly.

Phoenix waited for some elaboration, but Miles refused to give him the satisfaction. “Oookay, so not much there then,” Wright said slowly, “I guess.” He suddenly cringed. “I never thought about this before, but why are two von Karmas even engaged in the first place?”

And he just now questions the incestuous nature of the arrangement, Miles thought with a mental sigh. Then again, one tended to not question the authority who brainwashed one in the first place. “One would hope that PVK came from a distant branch of the family. The story you were told was that you grew up in Friedrich’s household. Perhaps he was adopted into the family for the sole purpose of being groomed into Friedrich’s heir.”

The grimace on Phoenix’s face only worsened. Misplaced sympathy, perhaps?

“We don’t need to solve everything tonight,” Miles decided. “This is a lot for anyone to process.” He felt a yawn coming on, stifling it politely with his hand. It was later that he expected. “In any case, I need to get up early to make some arrangements at work tomorrow.” A pause, as he remembered their sleeping arrangements. “...Will you be joining me?”

Unexpectedly, a bright blush spread across Phoenix’s cheeks. His eyes widened in panic and he inched back, “I-I- uh- N-nein! I’ll be fine on my own!” His chair screeched as he pushed himself back. “Gute Nacht! Ich sehe dich dann morgen!”

Miles could only stare in startelement at Phoenix’s hastily retreating back. Phoenix only switched to German when he was incredibly frazzled. He looked over at Pess, who simply stared up at her master with her loving, soulful eyes. “That was suspicious, wasn’t it?” he asked her.

Pess yipped in reply.

Very, very suspicious.

~o~

July 24, 2024
Edgeworth Residence
1:00 PM

Phoenix gave his third yawn since waking as he tread downstairs to the kitchen from the guest bedroom. He’d hardly slept at all, too consumed with his own thoughts. He was sure that he’d suffered an attack the entire night, his heart rate elevated as he stared wide eyed at the unfamiliar ceiling above him. Thoughts of ‘what if’, ‘what if’ plaguing him and haunting every lucid thought. What if he’d never come to Los Angeles. What if he’d never come to work at the prosecutor’s office. What if he’d died in that shipwreck. For hours he’d thought he was on the edge of a cardiac incident for as much as his pulse kept throbbing and burning, in the throes of a full on panic attack.

I should have just sucked it up and went to Miles again.

Since when are you dependant on that traitorous cur? Von Karmas do not show weakness, a dark, harsh voice poured into him. Even now. As if it had been infused into his very soul. His inner Onkel Friedrich voice that like to attack him while he was down, especially in the mindless hours of darkness. He did his best to push it aside. To think of something else.

Another small flash of panic went through him when he heard German prattling on from downstairs, but relaxed when he recognized the voice. Even so, he was slightly on edge when he made it to the dining room to find Edgeworth at his laptop and speaking to someone on an earpiece. What on earth was he doing at home?

Maya and Pearls were on him instantly, keeping him from eavesdropping. “Nick, you slept in forever!” Maya complained, putting her hands to her hips. “It’s already the afternoon!”

Seriously? Doesn’t feel like it.

“Sorry, I didn’t sleep that great,” Phoenix said, making his point with a wide yawn. “What’s Edgeworth doing at home?”

“What? You don’t know?” Maya asked, her eyebrows rising. “He said he was taking vacation from the office to help with your legal stuff.”

“Vacation?!” Phoenix echoed incredulously. “You mean, he’s taking vacation from work to wor- oh wait, that tracks.” Still, he had no idea that Miles would actually take leave from his work as chief prosecutor. Not when they were in such dire need of helping hands in the first place. It was... kind of heartwarming in a way.

But his entire body ached with too much fatigue to care.

Nonetheless, he trailed over to the dining table where the other man was situated, realizing why he’d stationed himself out here instead of in his home office. The entire dining table had been converted into Edgeworth’s command center with several different ‘steps’ in Phoenix’s legal battle (forget battle, this looked like one of those tables from those WWII movies complete with little military figurines to represent troop movements) all laid out across the length of the extensive table. Phoenix couldn’t help but notice that Ben Goldstein’s name was on there as a part of Edgeworth’s campaign. Under Civil Law.

Oh so he’s not good enough for me to hire, but you have no problem contracting out the work to him?

It was hard not to get exasperated with Edgeworth sometimes. Especially now when he was feeling cranky.

Miles didn’t notice he’d snuck up on him as immersed as he was in his work. When he did, he jerked in wide-eyed surprise and said, “Ph-Phoenix. Good morning.” Just like that, all the frustration was instantly swept away as Phoenix felt his ears burn. Weirdly, he still wasn’t used to Miles saying his first name (even though he’d been using it all the while to avoid calling him von Karma). He just wasn’t ready for it so early and it flustered him to no end.

“Guten morgen,” he replied quickly, about facing to the kitchen to make himself some coffee. Only to have Maya smack his hand away before he could make it to the coffee maker.

“Hey, it’s already the afternoon. No coffee for you!” She brandished a soda at him instead. “Here, you should have this.” Phoenix had no idea how soda was supposed to be better than coffee, but he took it anyway. Maya cocked her head as she watched him take a gulp. “Hey Nick, how come you keep using German with Edgeworth?”

“What? No, I didn’t,” Phoenix protested. Did I?

“Uh-huh...” the spirit medium said flatly, making him doubt his own sanity. How tired was he anyway? “Well, whatever. I’m glad you finally woke up. Pearl and I have to go back to Kurain tomorrow, so today’s our last full day here.”

Phoenix choked on his soda. “W-wait, you’re leaving?! Why?!”

“Well, I am the leader of the village after all. I can’t be gone forever,” Maya reminded him wryly. Phoenix had forgotten about that completely. It seemed like just yesterday she was starting training to become a master spirit medium. It was another unpleasant reminder of all the years he’d missed. At his crestfallen face, Maya became uncharacteristically gentle. “It’ll be okay,” she said softly as she put a hand to his bicep. “I’ll call every day, without fail. I’ll make Kurain get a cell phone tower. And I’ll come back as soon as I’m able.”

Pearls bounced earnestly on her heels to get a word in, “I’ll try to be back even more often, Mr. Nick. I can take the train on my own without getting into trouble now!”

Phoenix let out a faint chuckle. Getting constantly consoled all the time was getting a little pathetic. “Oh come on, I’ll be fine,” he said with a reassuring smile. “I’ll be here with Edgeworth, don’t worry.” He happened to glance over to the dining table, only to realize that Miles had stopped what he was doing to eavesdrop. Their eyes met and that intense squirming sensation was back again. Phoenix snapped his head back so fast he nearly gave himself whiplash. Okay, maybe staying with Edgeworth alone was a bad idea. Maybe he should see if he could crash with Larry instead.

...Actually, no. That was a terrible idea.

It didn’t help that Maya was shooting him a suspicious look. However, instead of commenting, she slapped her hands together. “Okay! Since we have a whole afternoon, let’s go have lunch and do something fun! Oh! We can go to Gatewater Land!”

Phoenix cast an uncertain look back at Edgeworth. There was no way that he was going to be going with them. He felt guilty for abandoning him on a case that was clearly for his benefit. However, Miles only shook his head, giving his permission. “It’s their last day, isn’t it? Go have some fun.” Words that Phoenix never thought he’d ever hear out of Edgeworth’s mouth. “However,” he added in a low, softly threatening tone, “as soon as they leave, I expect to have your full and undivided attention.”

It was clearly not to be meant to be dirty in any sense. Even so, Phoenix’s hopelessly brain damaged mind couldn’t help but throw all kinds of innuendo into the words. He laughed weakly in reply. “Yeah, sure. Sounds good.” With that, he turned back to the girls to finalize details feeling significantly more guilt-free.

I need some distance. Soon, it’s just going to be the two of us.

The thought sent a shiver up his spine.

For the life of him, he couldn’t tell if it was anxiety or anticipation.

~o~

July 25, 2024
Edgeworth Residence
4:00 PM

“What the hell is he doing here?”

Phoenix kept his tone as flat as he could when greeted with Simon Blackquill’s smirking face. His irrational dislike of the man still hadn’t abated and it was an unpleasant shock to see the convict present in Edgeworth’s home after dropping off Maya and Pearls at the train station. He’d been tying himself in knots outside of Edgeworth’s door, wondering how to react to the man now that the pair of them were alone without any chance of interruption.

Turned out he didn’t need to worry.

Joy.

“He’s here for your psych eval,” Edgeworth said from the kitchen as he fixed himself some tea. He had to make a whole thing about it. Boiling it to the right temperature and adding a spoon to the pot as well as one for himself and steeping it just to the right time. It doubly irritated Phoenix that he had the rules of tea etiquette drilled into his brain courtesy of Josephine.

“I don’t need a psych eval,” Phoenix retorted crossly.

It was probably the most untrue thing he ever said.

The looks on Edgeworth and Blackquill’s faces said it all.

“What do I need a psych eval for?” Phoenix amended. Damned if he was going to let a convicted murderer poke around in his brain just because.

“For your case of course,” Miles replied as he brought out cups of tea for himself and their so-called guest. He gave a critical look to Taka, who was making its home on the back of one his dining room chairs, before continuing. “We need to make sure that you were an unknowing participant in your fraud. An official evaluation should do the trick.” A bit more reluctantly, he added, “...A general wellness check would not be remiss either.”

Edgeworth was probably referring to the fact that he hadn’t slept well, again. To be fair, Maya and Pearls had kept him up all night with a Steel Samurai marathon, but that didn’t account for the haunted look that came from what little time he did have for sleep. Phoenix didn’t want to admit it was his inner demon’s fault for keeping him up (aka a certain German patriarch). His mind was back, so why wasn’t he better?

“Just so you know, I am not a therapist,” Blackquill stated rather bluntly. “And I have no interest in fixing your damage. I’m just here to assess you at Miles’ request.”

Well, that did kind of make him feel be-

Wait.

Miles?!

“Since when do you call him that?!” Phoenix exploded, pointing an accusing finger at Blackquill’s nose. Only to follow along the length of his arm to see the wicked smirk that the criminal had painted over his lips.

“You two are really too easy,” Blackquill chuckled, scribbling some notes onto a legal pad he had balanced over his knee. Phoenix went red when he realized he’d been played, while Edgeworth shot the convict a look so cold that it would have frozen the scales off an ice dragon. It would have sent a chill down Phoenix’s spine if he wasn’t so mortified.

“You may not be here to fix him, but what is the justification for deliberately antagonizing him?” the chief prosecutor demanded, his voice low and dangerous. Unfortunately, it did not seem to have any effect on Blackquill whatsoever.

“It’s just part of the assessment. Seeing how unstable and dangerous he might be,” the convict replied. “And antagonizing him? Hardly. All I did was call you by your name, Miles.” Though he was prepared for it this time, Phoenix still couldn’t keep his hackles from rising, as a rash of heat scoured its way along his neck and shoulders. “Now, shoo, Shochou. Give us some privacy. He’s not going to talk in front of you,” Blackquill said, giving his so-called superior a dismissive wave.

Phoenix glared at him. Loathe as he was to speak in German, he turned to Miles and asked, “Ist dieser Typ ernst? Muss ich?” So what if he derived a small amount of pleasure from talking over Blackquill’s head like this, as the man’s expression grew steadily more annoyed. “Das klingt nach einer schlechten Idee.”

Unfortunately, Edgeworth only humored him for a moment. “Es ist unsere beste Wahl,” he said, not unkindly, before switching to English to put his foot down on the matter. “Now,” he said, putting a hand on Phoenix’s shoulder to forcefully guide him to a chair opposite the table from Blackquill, “Please do this for me. For us. I will be right in the other room. Just call for me if you need anything.”

“Aber-”

“No, no buts,” Miles admonished, sounding more and more like an exasperated parent who was trying to get his child to eat his peas. “We need this. At least try.” At risk of getting spoon fed, Phoenix finally sighed in resignation and nodded. His reward was a tight smile and squeeze of his shoulders. “Just the next room,” Miles reiterated, before heading over to his home office. There was a brief bout of barking from Pess (likely stowed to keep away from the raptor) before the door closed and left Blackquill and Phoenix to their own devices.

“Nun, das ist einfach großartig,” Phoenix muttered darkly to himself, folding his arms defensively as he glared at the convict out of the corner of his eye.

"ぼくもそれをすることができます。" Blackquill said rather churlishly back. Taka hopped from the chair next to him onto his shoulder and shrieked, as if in understanding.

Phoenix blinked before he scowled, “Oh shut up, you Weabo.”

Gosh, we’re getting off to a great start, aren’t we?

“For the purposes of getting this over with as soon as possible, let’s both agree to use the Queen’s English, shall we?” Blackquill proposed, deepening Phoenix’s scowl. ...Still, he couldn’t disagree with him.

“So, what do you want to know?” Phoenix demanded coldly.

Blackquill glanced up at him briefly, before his eyes turned back to his notes. He took his time framing his question, stroking Taka’s breast as he did so. It gave Phoenix a much needed minute to gather himself together. “Well, Wright-dono,” the convict started, being uncharacteristically polite, “Let’s start at the beginning. Tell me about the shipwreck.”

“I...” Phoenix paused. He hadn’t expected that question at all and it was one of the biggest gaps in his memory. Dim memories flitted in and out of his mind’s eye. Edgeworth getting exasperated and annoyed with him in the office after moaning so much about not being able to afford a vacation. ‘You barely work as it is, Wright. Why do you need a vacation?’ Getting pissed off when he realized that Edgeworth wasn’t actually joining him on his forced vacation after he’d already boarded. Disappointed and sulking in his cabin for two whole days before he finally ventured out to rack up as many expenses as he could on Edgeworth’s dime. ‘That’ll show him.’ Getting wasted and the whole night turning into a blur and then...

Cold. So cold. Can’t move. Light spinning away. Something pushing me down. Pain. Head splitting. Can’t breathe. Too much water. I can’t-

“Wright-dono!” Blackquill’s voice snapped him out of it. Only then did he realize he’d been shaking like a leaf, a cold sweat broke out over his whole body. The convict had the grace to look apologetic. “We don’t need to get into that. We can leave that off for now.”

Phoenix swallowed thickly. “N-no, I... I just don’t remember that much. I was drunk and I know I hit my head at some point. I don’t know if it was before or after the ship began sinking. Next thing I know I’m underwater and there was metal all around me. I don’t remember anything after that. Not until I woke up with Kus- with Josephine in a hospital. They... they were already calling me von Karma and I just believed them, like the idiot I was.” A shudder went through him. He’d been injured and vulnerable and terrified out of his mind when he didn’t remember who he was and couldn’t understand what anyone was saying. Then Josephine had... had taken advantage of his trauma, wrapping him up in a blanket of false security.

“...It’s likely you’ll never recover your memories from the shipwreck,” Blackquill replied, watching him closely. “It happens with traumatic injuries. What is of greater concern is how prolonged your retrograde amnesia was after the incident. I assume that you stayed at the hospital sufficiently long enough to recover. Then what happened?”

“She... Josephine took me to her summer house in Garmisch and told me that I had to stay there to recover. She fed me this story about who I was, saying that I was Phoenix von Karma. That I was her cousin and that she’d take care of me...” The words came out soft and low, even with an edge of anger. His hands fisted, nails biting into his palms as betrayal rose up into the back of his throat like acrid bile. “I was just so damn grateful and the backstory didn’t have any holes in it.” Which made sense now considering that he’d taken over someone else’s life completely. “God, she even had pictures. Pictures! Mostly childhood photos of m-me, of Phoenix and Benedikta, as kids. H-he... he had black hair too, but it didn’t spike like mine did. They stopped after a certain age, but I didn’t notice that at the time either.”

There were just so many signs and clues that something wasn’t right. He’d just been so wilfully blind to them. Didn’t even think to look out for them. Like he wanted to be kept in the dark, so that he could be kept in that safe space.

Blackquill kept scribbling away on his paper, glancing up at him only every once in a while. “What were living conditions like? How were you treated? Was anyone else there?” he rattled off in quick succession. Phoenix had the sense he was keeping his expression carefully neutral.

“Quiet,” he replied. “The summer house they had me at was huge. Like one of those celebrity homes you see in the valley. Huge grounds too. You couldn’t see another house for miles. We were surrounded by mountains and forest. There was no one else there though and most of the time they kept the lights off. There were enough windows to light up the place. There wasn’t any TV or radio. Just books and of course they were all in German.”

Phoenix closed his eyes, remembering the most frustrating part of the experience. “Everything was in German. Whenever I spoke in English, she’d just look at me like I was speaking in Tongues. I thought there was something wrong with me. Like I was speaking in gibberish without even realizing it. Eventually, I wouldn’t get meals if I didn’t ask for them, so I spent way too much time going hungry. I ended up picking up German just for my own survival. And it was just such a relief when I could start understanding what was going on around me.” He let out a mirthless chuckle. “Y’know, German isn’t too far removed from English, when you’re really desperate.” Then the chuckle became a brittle laugh. “Oh, you know what’s worse? I heard Josephine speak English years later! She’s completely fluent in it! And even then I didn’t give it a second thought!”

Blackquill had paused his scribbling, taking a long moment to simply stare at him. “What else did they do to you?” he asked quietly.

Phoenix gave a helpless shrug. “I don’t know. I didn’t really think of it as abuse at the time. I thought it was just some form of excruciatingly tough love. Josephine never laid a hand on me for one thing. She just kept reinforcing the German and the story over and over again until it was drilled into my head. She was... cold, but kind sometimes. Once I got the German down, she made it her mission to make sure that I acted like a proper gentleman. ‘Ein wahrer von Karma,’ she said. To make the family proud. I was tripping over myself to make her happy, since I was so grateful and she was Familie.”

Those first couple of months had been both the best and the worst parts of his ordeal. “It was just me and her at first,” Phoenix said, his vision going distant. “Then Onkel Friedrich came and everything changed.” He remembered the meeting so vividly. Kusine Josephine had prepared him for a week ahead of time, fussing over him about his appearance and his manners. He just stood stock still, scared stiff about all the warnings Josephine had given him about the patriarch of the von Karma family. About how Onkel Friedrich had only hardened from the loss of his daughter to the point that he was cold-hearted and brutal. Now unrecognizable from the stoic but fair man he’d been.

He remembered standing in the library, shaking in his boots, trying to think of how to make a good first impression. Then suddenly remembering he’d already made a first impression on the man, then praying that it was a good one. He stiffened, sweating in his sharp navy coat, as the heavy wooden door opened and a man like a silverback gorilla came into the room. Not that he looked simian, but the presence and the power of him, with his built frame and enormous hands. And the white-silver streaks in his jet black hair. It would go completely white by the time Phoenix ran away.

Phoenix had swallowed hard and put all his bravery into holding out a hand in greeting. “Schön, Sie kennenzulernen, Onkel,” he’d said in perfect German. However, the patriarch had just stared at him in bewilderment. He’d reached out with one of those huge hands and put one heavily on Phoenix’s shoulder, sending him slightly off balance.

“Niko,” was all the man breathed, before enfolding him into a bone-crushing embrace. It would be only one of two times Phoenix ever received a hug from him.

“After that,” he said dully after he relayed all this to Blackquill, “he was the one that liked corporeal punishment. The pressure that Josephine put on me to be a perfect gentleman had nothing on what Onkel Friedrich expected out of me as basically his son-in-law and heir. He was old-school about it. He put me down constantly, berating me for not knowing things I’d apparently learned ages ago in law school. And everything was still in flippin’ German. His favorite insult was ‘Hirngeschädigter Dummkopf’, brain-damaged fool. But I put up with it, because every once in a while, he’d have some kind of emotional break down about how I was the last hope of the family and everything depended on me. I felt guilty for not being better and so I worked myself to the bone trying to fit to his standards. I had to be perfect. I had to be the hero. I had to save the Familie name.”

In the end, he ultimately failed. Phoenix couldn’t even follow the path laid out in front of him. Instead, he ran off after the family traitor because he... he just couldn’t take it anymore. He wanted more than that. Phoenix sank his head down into his hands, feelings of self-loathing pouring into his stomach like poison. “I can’t even imagine what they’re thinking. I just ran off without telling them where I was going. Onkel Friedrich must be going out of his mind with worry. Maybe I should-”

“Wright-dono,” a voice said, suddenly snapping him out of it. Reminding him of who he was. A cold chill went right through him, a wave of horror and fear. He’d reverted back into PVK without even realizing it. “I think I have what I need,” Blackquill said as he flipped through his multiple pages of notes. “You’ll likely be interviewed again by the defense’s own expert and possibly another if they don’t think I’m impartial enough. However, this is obviously a very clear-cut case of Stockholm Syndrome complete with isolation, emotional abuse and dependency, compounded by the fact that you didn’t even have your own memories to fall back on. There is no way any judge would rule that you had knowingly committed fraud.”

Still dazed from his episode, Phoenix could only nod. He jumped slightly when Taka shrieked as Blackquill rose up to his feet. “Edgeworth says you haven’t been getting much sleep?” To this, he shook his head in reply. Blackquill pursed his lips, as if deciding whether or not to be a decent human being. His own damage was plain to see, in his haunted, sunken gaze. “...Do what you have to to survive,” he finally said, spinning on his heel to head towards the foyer. “Shochou, I’m leaving!” he called out towards the home office door.

Edgeworth emerged suspiciously quickly, as if he’d been ready to pounce out the door. “Are we all set here?” he asked, looking between the convict and his patient, especially alarmed at how wrecked Phoenix must look. He looked about ready to jump to his defense, when Blackquill whispered something into his ear. “...I see,” Miles replied, “I’ll take that under advisement. Let me see you back to your escort.”

Blackquill’s escort was apparently the unmarked black sedan that had been parked outside of Edgeworth’s home the entire time. As though he were showing a diplomat back to his chauffeur, the chief prosecutor calmly walked him out and waited until the car was gone from sight.

“Why didn’t he run?” Phoenix asked, when Edgeworth came back into the safety of his home.

“Hn?”

“Between the door and the car. He could have bolted.”

“Hmm.”

That was all Edgeworth cared to say on that, apparently. Phoenix was going to figure out what the deal was with the Twisted Samurai one day. Just not today, when it felt like his brain had been turned into mush, physically and emotionally exhausted. Miles sat down at the table beside him. His hand tentatively reached out, fingertips tracing over his knuckles - an action that electrified Phoenix out of his exhaustion instantly - before he made the plunge and squeezed his hand. “I apologize for pushing you,” Miles said softly. “Are you alright?”

“I’m...” The word ‘okay’ died on his lips, like the withered lie it was. Trembling, Phoenix shook his head. “I became him again for a second,” he whispered, dread pooling in the pit of his stomach as the realization began to sink in. “I forgot who I was. Even with my memories back, they can still suck me back in. Miles, I-”

“I won’t let that happen,” Miles swore, suddenly reaching up to cup his face. His voice was soft and his gaze intense. Like looking into a distant storm on the horizon. “I swear to you, Phoenix, I’ll never let them have you again. I’ll keep you safe.”

It was all that needed to be said for the alarm to drain, for the exhaustion to kick back in. Grateful but spent, Phoenix slumped forward past Miles’ slender hands to rest his brow against the man’s shoulder. His presence was warm and welcome, making him forget temporarily about all his reservations for being so close to his childhood friend. The fair-haired prosecutor had the grace to stiffen only slightly at the motion, leaving him be in the intimate position. Even when Phoenix’s cheek found his bare neck, slaking what small physical comfort he could.

It was his own snore that startled him awake, making him realize that he’d somehow fallen asleep in the awkward position. Despite himself, Miles let out a chuckle. “I think someone needs a rest,” he teased, making Phoenix blush fiercely. However, instead of forcing him back to that cold and lonely guestroom, he said, “Let me let Pess out. You can sleep on the sofa.”

Just a little bewildered, Phoenix let himself be led over to the sofa, soon joined by a pillow and blanket. Then Miles let Pess out of the home office and carried the happy, yapping ball of fluff over to living room. “Here, Pess, you keep him company,” he ordered sternly, tapping Pess’ wet nose as he deposited the pup onto Phoenix’s lap.

Pess was more than happy to oblige, yipping and jumping all over Phoenix like a puffball of static electricity. Just when he was sure he’d never get to sleep, she settled down, circling on top of his chest until she made a home for herself underneath his chin. Phoenix glanced up, noticing that Miles had gone back to the dining room table and was already back to work, tapping away on his keyboard. Making sure to stay within his field of vision.

Aw, he does care, a strangely giddy thought flew through his sleep-deprived mind.

A warm feeling spread through him, hastening his descent into slumber. With a smile on his lips, and the clacking of Miles’ typing as white noise, he snuggled closer to the pup next to him and fell into the best night of sleep he had in days.

Chapter Text

July 28, 2024
Edgeworth Residence
6:30 AM

When Phoenix was fully rested and recovered, he was finally conscripted into Edgeworth’s private army. Although it was physically just the two of them (and Pess), neither of them felt as if they were alone for very long. Despite taking vacation time from the office, the chief prosecutor was constantly on call with them to douse any fires that lit up in his absence. Then they either took conference calls with other attorneys or went out to meetings with them in their offices.

Sure, Phoenix felt guilty for putting so much work on Edgeworth, but the man had literally asked for it. Plus he couldn’t afford to lose his General with how shaky his own legal and emotional standing was. Edgeworth just had a knack for bossing people around in the most efficient way possible. What mattered most was that he knew the right people to talk to, who wouldn’t tip off Friedrich von Karma in one way or another. It allowed for the harried pace in which they put together their civil suits, (yes, multiple,) while things were still in motion in Germany to get any criminal traction.

It made the living situation easier to deal with. If infinitely more frustrating.

Despite his best intentions, Phoenix kept noticing Miles more and more. He didn’t sleep with him. He couldn’t. But he gave up his bed for the sofa and used Pess as a security blanket and he never slept better. Knowing that Miles would always be working until after he fell asleep and before he woke up. It gave him so much opportunity to just watch the man in his element. His sheer presence and command, making his already attractive features even more irresistible. And the clothes . Even at home, Miles never went completely casual, favoring slacks and button down shirts. A type of dressed-down business-casual that was doing things to Phoenix as he stared at Miles’ bare neck and the tailored pants that fit his hips perfectly, a sight that was normally covered by long coats and cravats at the office.

Today, Phoenix was sure he was going to lose his mind.

Miles was wearing jeans. Expensive, dark indigo jeans that hugged him in all the right places. Especially when he casually bent over the dining room table with a mug of tea in hand and-

Oh my God, he thought, his mind going on the fritz as he was greeted with that first thing in the morning. Pess betrayed him, squirming out of his arms to jump off of him and happily bark at her master.

“Good morning, Pess~” Miles cooed, bending over lower to pet the dog on the head.

Phoenix let out a groan.

“Good morning, Wright,” Miles added, without looking at him. Thank God. “I made you coffee. Can you walk and feed Pess? Also I need you to review the case files on the pain and suffering Tort to see if they missed anything. Then we need to call Goldstein about the death certificate revocation. After that, Franziska and Bernstein are going to give us an update on the search for PVK. Hurry up and get dressed. She can tell if you’re in your pyjamas over the phone.”

It took Phoenix a second to process the rapid-fire instructions to even hear the last part.

Well, that’s... terrifying.

Before he could even say anything, Edgeworth was on the phone with the office, getting updates from his deputy on upcoming cases for the day. Who he then put on hold to deal with an incoming call from Francis Baker. “Loss of income?” Miles said incredulously over the phone as he sipped his tea. “I told you we can’t focus on that. He made next to nothing when he was a defense attorney and he made far more on a prosecutor’s salary. That will just open us up to a counter-suit. We have to focus on- ...Listen... Listen. Okay, just a moment.” He looked over to Phoenix who still hadn’t risen from the sofa. “Wright, would you say that your likelihood of taking on an extremely rich client would have been nil or next to nil in the past five years?”

That stole any warm thoughts from Phoenix right quick. Leveling a glare at him, he threw off the blanket and stormed over to the foyer to get Pess’ leash.

Edgeworth’s frustrating condescension didn’t deter him for long. Once he got back and was set to work, he was only half-focused on the tasks that the other man had given him. Instead, he kept thinking about those jeans, which weren’t even in plain sight since they were sitting across from each other at the dining room table to work. Phoenix wondered if he had done it on purpose. Did he realize what he was doing to him? It was so hard to get a read on Miles nowadays. He was so hyperfocused on work, pouring all of himself into it. Was Miles trying to get a rise out of him? Or did he just run out of laundry?

He wished there was a way he could read the chief prosecutor’s mind. He knew that Miles was attracted to him once, a thought that sent a thrill through him every time he thought of it. Key word being ‘was’. Miles hadn’t expressed a lick of interest in him since he’d come back to himself. He was grateful for it... at first. It gave him time to sift through his thoughts and try to come to some level playing field. Now he just wondered if Miles was holding back for his benefit or... or if he was just too broken for Miles to even want him anymore.

Why the hell am I even thinking about this? I still don’t know if I want him back.

...Oh, yeah right. Is that smoke coming from your trousers?

Before he could spiral down further into his thoughts, the call from Franziska and Bernstein finally came in. They put it up on speaker phone in the center of the dining table. 

[Good morning, Miles. Mr. Wright,] Franziska’s voice carried over the line. After her first disastrous call with Phoenix, she stuck only to English for his benefit. It was oddly considerate of her. [We’re in München, ah Munich, right now. We’ve researched Benedikta’s death as best as we could over media sources. Nothing to go on. We have at least been able to figure out that her death certificate was signed by a medical examiner, meaning she supposedly had an autopsy. However, the police haven’t released any details of her death. They could still be investigating. Or Onkel Friedrich pulled some strings to cover it up.]

Phoenix frowned. He knew how much Onk- Friedrich loved his daughter. He’d been living with his mourning for the past five years. He wouldn’t squash an investigation if there was a chance that Benedikta was still alive. No, she was certainly dead. That at least had to be true out of all the lies he’d been fed over the years. “He would cover up any details if he thought they could create some kind of scandal,” he interjected, “Not about the actual status of her death. He doesn’t want the von Karma name associated with anything disreputable.”

[Like the way you just left?] Franziska asked wryly. [Ever since I set foot in Munich, it’s all anyone talks about. It’s a good thing you left your note in the office, or else Onkel Friedrich would have tossed it and filed a missing persons on you. Then you’d have all the police searching for you.]

The very thought sent a cold and terrible shiver down Phoenix’s spine.

[That being said, we have to tread lightly here,] Franziska went on without missing a beat. [Any official movement we make in CID will come back to Onkel Friedrich without question. We’ve at least figured out who the lead detective was on her case of suspicious death. Hans Weber. I do not know him. I was hoping you had some dealings with him, Mr. Wright.]

Reluctantly, Phoenix gingerly rifled through his memories. It was easier to pretend that other life didn’t happen if he didn’t think about it too much. And less likely to become him again. However, thinking about the work itself was easier to deal with. “I dealt with him a little. He does solid work for the most part. But he and Friedrich are thick as thieves. If you ask him about Benedikta, it’s going to get back to Friedrich without question.”

[Verdammt!] Franziska cursed. [Ah, excuse me, Mr. Wright.] She released a long sigh. [Very well. We will have to use alternate methods to get a look at the case file.] At this, Miles looked rather conspicuously up and away, as if trying to distance himself.

“Well, what about PVK himself? Any luck there?” Phoenix asked.

Suddenly, a gruff voice cut in, one that was only vaguely familiar. Franco Bernstein. [In diesem Sinne ... hat Ihnen jemand Fragen zu Ihrem fehlenden Jahr gestellt?]

To which Franziska rebuked sharply, [Du Dummkopf! Sprich kein Deutsch mit ihm! Es wird ihn traumatisieren!]

[Ich kann nicht genug Englisch!] Bernstein snapped back.

Phoenix’s eyebrows rose. He shared a look with Miles. They did know he could understand everything they were saying, right?

[Hey pal!] a completely new voice cut in, while the argument grew distant. It was a voice that he was very familiar with indeed. [Sorry, ‘bout that. How you doing?]

“Gumshoe!” Phoenix cried, a broad smile spreading over his lips. Come to think of it, how long had it been since he’d seen the man? How much had he changed over the years? “I heard you were over in Germany! How are you liking it?”

[Well, I hope you don’t mind my sayin’, but I’m really missing home,] the detective said with a weary sigh. [If I see another sausage, I really will-]

“Gumshoe,” Edgeworth interrupted before the man could completely get off track, “What was Bernstein saying about people asking Wright questions?”

[Oh, right! Well, since Mr. Wright basically showed up as PVK out of the blue, we were wondering if anyone asked about it when he turned up.]

Phoenix blinked. That was a good question. And it would be something that people would ask about, considering. “No... no one asked me anything about it. Not the police or anyone at the prosecutor’s office.” Come to think of it, how did no one notice that he looked different? Unless no one actually knew PVK at all? “I’m assuming that Friedrich had something to do with smoothing it over. However, according to all the lies they told me, PVK didn’t exactly debut as a prosecutor. Not until they had me.”

“According to your resume, PVK worked as a court clerk for a year, then as Friedrich’s legal aide for six years,” Edgeworth said with a frown. “I thought at the time how unusual it was for a von Karma to work so long as a legal aide. Not to mention, it’s a position that wouldn’t need to be in a public setting. He could just as well be working in Friedrich’s private office.”

“If he worked as a legal aide at all...” Phoenix said, ideas and conspiracies beginning to whirl in his mind. The childhood pictures. They just... stopped. “Are we absolutely sure that it was PVK that graduated from law school? Bernstein said the degrees were genuine.”

[Well, he had to have!] Gumshoe protested. [Who else would have?]

“What are you thinking?” Miles asked quietly. He, more than anyone, had a sixth sense for when Phoenix was onto something. It was as though he could see the cogs whirling in his mind. After all, it once was an early alarm system that something was going to go horribly wrong for his case.

“Dunno yet,” Phoenix replied. “I think we need to look into Ludwig Maximilian University. There has to be some record of who went there. Even better, pictures. There has to be someone in the Law Faculty that remembers him. Maybe they can give us some clue about what the hell happened between then and me turning up. It’s right in Munich, so you won’t have to go far.”

[Right! On it, Sir!] Gumshoe replied and Phoenix could could almost see him salute on the other side of the line. It couldn’t help but bring a smile to his face.

[Mr. Wright,] Franziska broke in, [If I could have a moment with my brother?]

“What? Oh, sure,” Phoenix blinked. He had a sneaking suspicion that he was going to be the subject of their conversation. All he could do was watch as Miles switched to the home phone and took his call into the kitchen.

Ah well. At least the view is nice.

~o~

“What is it Franziska?” Miles asked, now that he was well out of earshot from Phoenix.

[What on earth are you wearing?]

How the hell does she- Miles thought in wonder before he retorted sharply, “These are Armani jeans, Franziska. Now, please, back to your point?”

After a brief scoff about denim, she asked, [How long are you going to let this go, kleiner Bruder?] There wasn’t any accusation to her tone, but a thrum of urgency. However, Miles knew exactly what she was referring to.

“Wright isn’t ready to be shipped back to Deutschland to file a police report,” he spoke softly, being ever patient. “We aren’t ready for that either. We need more than this if we are planning to confront Friedrich and the full force of the German justice system.”

[Uns läuft die Zeit davon,] Franziska replied ominously, [...I haven’t been able to get a hold of meine Schwester.]

A chill went down Miles’ spine. “Josephine? She’s missing?”

[Possibly out of the country,] his sister affirmed. [Sie ist sehr schlau, kleiner Bruder. It might not have taken her long to deduce that I was asking about an imposter von Karma on your behalf. Onkel Friedrich ist immer noch hier, so I don’t know if she told him about Wright already. She may be working alone.]

“I see. Danke für die Warnung,” Miles replied, already thinking of posting surveillance. Or perhaps putting Phoenix up in a safe house. Yet he was loathe to let the man out of his sight. Especially now.

There was a pause over the line. A hesitative silence.

“Was there anything else?” Miles asked, gently prompting her to respond.

[Wie geht es ihm?]

Ah, this must be why Fraziska was being so careful, so polite. He could hear the guilt in her voice, as best as she could hide it. However, he knew her too well. “This isn’t your fault, Franziska. Just like I wasn’t your fault either.”

[Es passiert wieder von vorne,] she whispered, trembling with guilt and with anger. With betrayal. [Josephine. Onkel Friedrich. They were supposed to be the good ones. They were supposed to be above this.]

Miles could say nothing to that.

After a moment, Franziska collected herself, reverting back into that mask of sheer confidence. [Just be careful, kleiner Bruder. Meine Schwester, sie ist gefährlich.]

“Yes, yes, I’ll be sure to keep a look out-”

[Nein, I mean she is dangerous to Wright. ]

He frowned, “What do you mean?”

[Josephine, you know she went to medical school?]

A cool trickle of dread trailed down Miles’ skin. “Yes?”

[She studied medical psychiatry.]

The implications of those four single words turned the trickle of dread into a vat of ice, making his whole body freeze. “I... I understand,” he replied, his voice thick as he tried to remember how to speak.

[...Take care of him, Miles. For better or worse, he’s Familie now.]

A hysterical laugh almost escaped him. And she accuses me of sentimentality. “Danke, again . Good hunting.”

[Viel Glück, kleiner Bruder.]

Numbly, Miles set the phone down.

She can take him again, his mind spun, his heart turning cold with fear. She had him for five years. Who knows what else she did to him. Things even he might not be aware of.  

This Wright, his Wright, was still so fragile. He was like fractured glass. Too hot or too cold and he’d shatter all on his own. He’d already confessed he’d flipped the switch back without even knowing. If Josephine found him, if she got to him when he wasn’t looking, would Phoenix Wright disappear from him forever?

He didn’t know how long he stood with his hands grasping the lip of the counter for support, but it was long enough for Phoenix to come and fetch him. He jumped when the other man put a hand on his shoulder, pulling him out of his spiraling thoughts. “Woah, hey,” Phoenix put his hands up in placation, his blue eyes wide. “What happened? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

What an apt way to put it.

His colorless eyes trailed up, meeting the former defense attorney’s concerned gaze. Like he was the one that needed comforting. It was the other way around. He was supposed to take care of Phoenix. After all, how did Franziska put it? He was Familie.

Family. ...Right.

A very un-familial possessiveness filled him, trickling through the fractured walls he’d put up since Wright had returned. His arms itched, wanting nothing more than to simply hold Phoenix and stave off the chasm of grief and loss that his heart remembered all too well. He’d been holding back so far, using work to keep himself from thrusting his unwholesome emotions onto the raven haired man when he was at his most vulnerable. His conscience and his pride would not allow for a situation where Phoenix might entertain the thought of reciprocating his feelings out of obligation.

And yet... the threat of him disappearing again, after losing five whole years... it was just... almost more than he could take .

Stop it. Stop this now. Your priority is keeping Wright safe. You swore to him.

“I... have to tell you something,” Miles said softly, unable to maintain eye contact. He didn’t want to see this. He didn’t want to watch him break. “Franziska, she... she says that Josephine is missing. She might be coming here. To find you.”

Phoenix spasmed, jolting back at the news. However, he didn’t shatter like he half-expected. Instead, the raven haired man steadied himself and took a long breath. “Okay,” he said softly, “Thank you for telling me.” Uncertain, Miles looked up. Phoenix was pale, yes, but his gaze was set with grim determination. It was a look that he knew all too well, one that he hated and admired. Then Phoenix cracked a smile, making a warmth spread through Miles as he became all that much more handsome. “Don’t worry,” he said, squeezing Miles’ shoulder in reassurance, “We got this. I’m not going to let her take me.”

Miles sucked in a low breath.

He’s already so much stronger than he was. 

For the first time, in quite a long time, it finally felt like everything was going to be alright. That Phoenix was going to be just fine. It was the same resilience and stubborn determination that drew him to the man in the first place.

“You are a wonder, Wright,” he spoke, his voice softer and more reverent than he expected, more emotional than he’d intended. And Phoenix, being Phoenix, picked up on it. His blue eyes widened a fraction, a blush of pink spreading over his handsome face. Miles was suddenly aware of how close they were, how warm Phoenix’s hand was on his shoulder.

Neither of them moved. 

Then, slowly, so slowly, Phoenix leaned closer. Miles stood frozen, his heart racing as his lips parted to suck in a breath-

Suddenly, the phone shrilled, making the both of them jump out of their skin. Phoenix snatched at the phone, looking as though he were about to smash it for a half-second. Then he caught the name on the caller ID. “Ah, it’s... It’s from Kurain. It’s probably Maya,” he said shakily, apologetic.

Miles swallowed thickly, still flushed from the encounter. “You... you should take that. She has to use the payphone, doesn’t she?”

“Yeah...” Phoenix sent one more conflicted glance his way, before taking the call in the other room. “Hey Maya~!” he said, his voice forcibly cheerful as it grew distant.

Back in the kitchen, Miles grasped the counter tightly as his knees threatened to buckle. As if this paradigm shift had altered his sense of gravity. His heart hammered in his throat, his body flushed with heat. He hadn’t imagined that just now, had he? That was real. That was Phoenix responding.

Why? Why is he...? I thought he’d never... Wright would never...

But he did. He did as surely as when he thought he was Phoenix von Karma.

How am I supposed to handle this?!

Phoenix Wright was never interested in him. Phoenix Wright wasn’t attracted to him. They were childhood friends. Rivals in court. Then he came back so changed and of course he had to be suspicious of it. So how dare he come back and upend all his previously held beliefs? 

“Wright was a blind fool. Or possibly just straight. I don’t know. All I know is if you had done for me what you did for him...”

Was that what happened? Were his eyes now wide open? Had there been a chance all along?

“Hey Miles,” a voice called, making him jump from his thoughts. He turned and found Phoenix at the door of the kitchen, phone still in hand.

Shaken, he straightened and coughed, trying to regain some composure. “Yes? What is it, Wright?”

Phoenix frowned at the sudden use of his surname, but didn’t comment. He was all business as he said, “I updated Maya about the Benedikta situation. She has an idea.”

~o~

July 28, 2024
Kurain Village
11:00 PM

Channeling. How did it always come back to bloody channeling?

Miles glared out at the dark road ahead of them, vexed that they’d taken precious time out of their work to deal with this superstitious nonsense. Phoenix had all but dragged him out of the house as soon as he got off the phone, threatening to take public transportation in the middle of the night. Which Miles was simply not having.

“You know, you didn’t have to come with me,” Wright pointed out as he watched Miles grip the steering wheel a little too tightly.

“And leave you while Josephine is out there? I don’t think so,” Miles bit back tersely. “You insisted on going on this wild goose chase, so I have no choice but to accompany you.”

“I swear to God, Edgeworth, your level of denial is amazing sometimes,” Wright muttered in what was clearly not a compliment.

“It is a perfectly reasonable amount of skepticism,” Miles snapped. “The fact that you continually fall for it makes me question your grasp on the real world.”

“It’s Maya, Edgeworth! I’m insulted you think she’s trying to trick us or something!”

Needless to say, neither were feeling very romantically inclined at the moment.

They were still bickering when they arrived at the Master of Kurain’s house in the village. Out in the remote mountain highlands, the sticky, warm darkness that surrounded them was nearly oppressive. The only light came from a couple of street lights and the illuminated windows of the ancestral home. Wright bounced from the car before Miles even shut it off, hurriedly ringing the doorbell and rousing everyone inside. Maya opened the door a moment later, grinning wide at the pair of them. “Wow! You guys got here in record time! Edgeworth, did you bring your DVD collection?”

“I didn’t even have time to pack clothes,” Miles groused as he walked up the wooden steps to the house. He ignored the incredulous look the mystic gave his jeans, instead heading inside to the candle lit hallway. The already humid air was scented with incense, likely in preparation for their arrival and the so-called channeling. He couldn’t help but sigh. It was little ‘authenticities’ like this that fed into the mass hallucinations both Wright and Ms. Fey seemed to suffer. “Since Wright is so very eager for your assistance, shall we go ahead and get this over with?”

“Sure, sure,” Maya replied, waving them into the inner sanctum. “Come on, we’ll go into the main hall.” They padded as quietly as they could through the dimly lit halls in some effort to not wake the whole household. A sliding door opened and a sleepy Pearl Fey peeked out in what looked like her pyjamas.

“Myst-” she yawned widely and rubbed her sleepy eyes, “Mystic Maya? What’s going on?”

“Shhh,” Maya hushed her gently. “We’re just going to do a little channeling. You go back to bed.”

Pearls only grew more awake. “Oh! No, I’ll help, Mystic Maya! Just give me a minute!”

“Okay, but hurry,” Maya urged quietly. Not waiting, she took them into the lofty grand hall of the ancient home. The smell of incense was strongest here, so strong it made him dizzy. Candlelight flickered all over the room, the centerpiece an alter surrounded by foreign text that looked like sanskrit. There was no seating on the floor, save for a large tatami mat. “This is where we receive visitors. I don’t use it much since I’m not fully trained yet,” Maya said as she gestured for them all to sit.

My knees, Miles’ bones cried as he sat down on the tatami.

“You sure you’re up for this?” Wright asked in concern. A little belatedly in Miles’ opinion.

“I’ll give it my best shot!” Maya replied, pumping a fist. “I’m supposed to start the end of my training in Khura’in soon, but for now I think I’ve got a 40% chance of making this work.”

40%?!

“Do you have a picture of the deceased?” Maya asked. Wright promptly handed over none other than the godsforsaken locket he was apparently still carrying around. “Great!” the spirit medium said cheerfully, “And her name is Benedikta von Karma, right?”

“Right,” Wright said with a firm nod.

Pearls bounded into the room at that moment, fully dressed and carrying a candelabra and a number of accoutrements. “Here, Mystic Maya!” she fussed, handing over what looked to be a ceremonial robe and staff.

“Oh, I don’t need all that now. Just help me focus okay?” Maya replied with a smile. Pearls fretted for a moment, but nodded and sat down beside her beloved cousin. They closed their eyes. Their hands formed into intricate, interlocking symbols. Then slowly, they began to chant. A slow and ancient mantra likened to the chants of Tibetan monks.

Despite himself, a tremble ran down Miles’ spine. The cloying incense, the exotic chanting, the dim illumination. It wasn’t difficult to see how someone could be caught up in the spiritual atmosphere. Just like Wright, who leaned forward in his seat, watching the ceremony with wide eyes and bated breath.

After a full minute, sweat began to drip from Maya and Pearl’s brows, their interlaced fingers tightening and trembling around their hand gestures. Their harmonized chanting grew more intense, breath becoming more shallow from the effort of keeping up.

After twenty minutes, Pearls was the first to falter. She sucked in a sharp breath for air, nearly falling back onto her haunches. She cradled her head, looking fretfully at her cousin, whose stamina was still holding.

After an hour, Maya finally gave it up as well. She gasped for breath, looking woozy from her non-stop mantra. Sweat glistened from her brow as she caught herself from falling forward onto the floor. Phoenix jumped to help her, holding onto her shoulders to support her. “Maya! Are you alright?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine,” the spirit medium said with a shaky smile. “Don’t worry, this happens more often than not.”

“What happened?” Wright asked, his brow furrowing into a frown.

“I can’t really say,” Maya replied apologetically. “Either I’m not strong enough or that picture isn’t close enough. I’m really sorry, Nick. I wish I could tell you more.”

...I should have known, Miles thought, letting out a sigh. His legs were beginning to cramp.

“M-maybe we can try again?” Wright insisted.

“Mr. Nick!” Pearls cried in petulant indignation, “It's the middle of the night! Mystic Maya is already worn out! We should wait until the morning!” Wright clearly didn’t think much of the idea, judging from his consternated expression, but he yielded quickly to the outraged young spiritualist.

“Okay, okay,” he said, holding up his hands in placation. “We’ll try again in the morning. Maybe it’s just too dark to see the picture right.”

“Maybe,” Maya allowed, putting up a tired smile as she pushed herself up to her feet. “I’m guessing you two will need to spend the night. It’s too dark to drive all the way back to L.A. now. I got a room ready for you two.”

...A room?

All of Miles’ previous panic came back in full force, his eyes darting over to Phoenix. They were going to have to share? Wright glanced back at him, faltering mid-step the second it hit him. But surely, surely, they would have separate beds... right?

What greeted them was a very traditional tatami room, complete with two futons spread out on the floor. They were side by side, a necessity since the small size of the room wouldn’t accommodate any more space. Miles and Phoenix stared at it. “Sorry it’s so tight! We have a lot of guests over right now. Well, goodnight!” Maya said cheerfully as she shut the sliding door behind them, not waiting for a reply in return. Once they were alone, the pair of them shared another look. The humid air grew even thicker with tension.

“W-well, at least it’s two separate futons, right?” Phoenix laughed, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck.

Miles wondered if it would be indelicate to simply drag his futon out into the main hall to sleep. He decided against it. He’d rather not be tripped over in the morning by some oblivious staff person. “...It’s fine,” he said, making the executive decision to not be affected by this. “Let’s just go to sleep. It’s late.” Kicking off his shoes, he picked a futon at random and stole underneath the thin blanket in some vain attempt to go to sleep.

Phoenix hesitated for a moment, but soon followed suit.

They lay next to each other in complete silence. Both so still and so quiet they were too afraid to even breathe. It was deafening.

After a long, long minute, Phoenix said, “This isn’t going to work, is it?”

Miles feigned ignorance. “What do you mean, Wright?”

“You know what I mean,” Phoenix replied tersely, facing the elephant in the tiny room dead on. “Are you really going to try to pretend that what happened in the kitchen didn’t happen? Or in the bathroom of that Chinese restaurant for that matter?”

The chief prosecutor stiffened at the reminder. Strangely, he held this delusion Phoenix would have no recollection of the bathroom incident. As though his selective amnesia would turn off those fraught, emotional moments as von Karma. Clearly, he was wrong. “... You have been pretending they didn’t happen,” he reminded the other man softly.

“Yeah, well, that’s...” the raven haired man replied, struggling to piece his thoughts together. “Okay, guilty. I have been. I wasn’t really sure what to think, Miles. If you haven’t noticed, I’ve had more than a few screws loose lately.”

“Well, that was your prerogative. I would hardly deign to tell you how you should be feeling,” Miles replied, turning his back to the other man in some effort to signal an end to the conversation. He was tired and he really didn’t want to sort through Phoenix’s confusion at the moment. Not when his own heart was so raw.

“Look, Edgeworth, I’m trying to have a serious conversation here!”

Shutting his eyes, Miles tried to ignore him. “It’s late. This is no time for this kind of discussion.”

Then Phoenix put a hand to his shoulder, making him jolt all over again. “Hey, hey, look at me,” he insisted, as persistent as always, forcing Miles’ gaze back to him. “Why are you always pulling away from me?”

Unable to take it anymore, he finally snapped, “Because you idiot, I’m in lo-!”

Miles only just managed to catch himself, nearly biting his tongue with the sheer effort of snapping that thought in half. A rash of panic went through him, unsure if it was too late. If his partner was a lesser man, he could make up some kind of excuse and say he meant something else. Perhaps Wright himself would do the deed for him, creating his own self-imposed rationalizations for the sake of keeping the peace or his own emotions defended.

Phoenix Wright, however, missed nothing.

His blue eyes were never wider, his mouth bobbing as he was suddenly at a loss for words as he realized what Miles had very nearly said. Guilt and mortification clawed at the chief prosecutor’s stomach as he wriggled out of the other man’s grip. “That- I...” he swallowed hard, “I’m sorry, Wright. I didn’t mean to- Please, just forget I said anything.”

Phoenix just kept staring. The shocked silence that followed was palpable, painful, even. It was all that Miles could do to stay absolutely still, even though every fiber of him wanted to get up and flee.

After an agonizing moment, it finally seemed to sink in for the other man. The former defense attorney’s face turned rosy, his eyes darting awkwardly away. “I... I really don’t know what to say,” he whispered.

Miles’ heart shattered. His hand clenched the blanket tightly to fight back against the sharp pain that centered in on his chest. Through sheer effort, he steadied his voice and spoke, “I... understand. Please understand, I never intended to tell you. I didn’t want to impose my feelings on you. I know how vulnerable you are.”

Wright’s eyes flashed with a dull, resentful anger. “Vulnerable. Right,” he muttered, letting out a huff of distaste. “That didn’t exactly stop you when I was out of my mind as Phoenix von Karma.”

The sharp pain increased tenfold, with guilt writhing through his broken heart. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Wright’s face screwed up tightly, compressing into a grimace. He ran a hand through his stalwart spikes, his eyes averted. “Sorry, that- I shouldn’t have said that. Look, I just don’t get it. When I left, you couldn’t wait to get rid of me-” Another stab of guilt. “-and then when I get back as... as that you liked him. Then when I’m back to myself you want nothing to do with me again. What am I supposed to think?”

Miles brow knit into a frown, horror dawning that Phoenix could have drawn such a conclusion. “Wright,” he said, reaching out to gently cup the other man’s face towards him, “Phoenix. It has always been you.” Those piercing blue eyes looked to his, tired and... plaintive? Dare he hope? “That false identity only held any attraction because I knew it was you. Although I will admit, I do like the new work ethic,” he jested.

“Hey,” Phoenix protested, but only enough to make Miles smile.

“You are the one I’ve missed for the five years you’ve been gone,” he pressed on. “You are the one that riles me, that inspires me. That drives me absolutely crazy. I was such a fool to not realize how much I needed you until you were gone. How much... how much I had fallen for you, until it was too late.”

Phoenix was staring again. Only it was a different kind of stare. His cheeks were warm, their rosy hue highlighting the wide-eyed wonder in those impossible blue eyes. A kind of fascination and probing heat that made Miles’ heart stutter. His lips formed around a silent ‘oh’ before he coughed lightly. “Oh, well... I mean... when you put it like that-”

Miles silenced him. With a desperate, hungry kiss that stole the very air their lungs. Knowing that this was the best way to give and to take, to show him just what he had been wanting for so long. He was satisfied when Wright let out a needy moan, pressing in to deepen the kiss. When he pulled back, the other man stared at him, looking as though he’d just swallowed his tongue. “Good night, Phoenix,” he spoke softly, relishing the way Wright turned as red as a tomato.

“Ngh,” Phoenix choked.

Turning over onto his side away from the raven haired man, he was determined to finally get some rest as he closed his eyes. Warmth spread through him, a tiny kernel of hope sowed within the fractures of his beleaguered heart. It was enough, for now. It was more than he ever hoped for.

The smirk on his face grew when he heard Phoenix mutter under his breath, “That is so not fair.”

Chapter Text

July 29, 2024
Fey Mansion
8:00 AM

The sound of summer cicadas buzzed in the air. The humidity seemed to evaporate overnight, leaving the cool mountain air that trickled in from the paper doors which glowed from the light of the courtyard. Phoenix lay atop his futon, his blue eyes studying Miles’ sleeping visage. His expression was soft and gentle, so unlike the glares and wicked smirks that had haunted his dreams through the night.

His mind couldn’t help but go to the conversation last night and what came after. His heart pounded as he absently touched his lips. It excited and terrified him. Miles Edgeworth was in love with him. It still hadn’t really sunk in. Sure, he noticed that the fair-haired man was attracted to him, to Phoenix von Karma. He just never expected the depth to which Miles felt for him. Even though he should have realized it from everything that Miles did for him, took care of him, was so gentle with him. There were signs everywhere , but he still felt just as blindsided as he’d been when he realized that his past five years were a lie.

A kernel of guilt gnawed at the pit of his stomach. He wished he’d noticed earlier. Maybe he wouldn’t have resisted quite so much. He could have... However, he quickly shook that idea off. He wasn’t ready. It would have been disastrous if it had come up earlier.

Miles Edgeworth is in love with me.

Emotionally constipated, childhood hero, Miles Edgeworth.

Handsome as sin, smartest man I know, Miles Edgeworth.

Sweet, kind, gentle Miles.

And he’s in love with me.

Delight squirmed in his veins, making him giddy and restless. Damned if he didn’t feel like the luckiest man on the face of the earth. How in the hell had he managed such a feat without even realizing it? The thought sent a goofy grin across his lips. Take that Blackquill! he crowed at his non-existent rival.

Phoenix was still grinning like a loon when Miles began to stir. It was late for Edgeworth, but he figured the man had been working crazy hours for days now and needed the rest. Slowly, the  fair haired man blinked awake, frowning at the unfamiliar surroundings. He stilled when he noticed Phoenix watching him, eyes widening at his mischievous smile.

“...What is that look for?” Miles asked warily, though his pink cheeks gave him away.

“Nothing~” Phoenix replied innocently.

Miles’ blush deepened. Then suddenly he jerked. “What time is it?” he demanded.

Phoenix blinked. “Wha...? Oh, around eight I guess?”

A colorful curse flew from the chief prosecutor’s lips as he threw off his blanket. He snatched his cell phone up from the mat and furiously began dialing in vain.

“You have to use the payphone outside,” Phoenix reminded him.

An even more scandalous curse escaped him. Barely taking the time to even pull on his shoes, he shot out of the room like a rocket, leaving a very confused Phoenix in his wake. A touch more slowly, he roused himself and headed out into the morning light. The halls were far more bustling with activity as various staff began to clean and the smell of cooking filled the air. He took a minute just to look out over the brightly lit courtyard, stretching the sleep out of his limbs.

“Morning, Nick!” a voice called and he turned to see Maya walking down the hall. “I just saw Edgeworth tear out of here like a bat out of hell. What happened?”

“Knowing him, probably work,” Phoenix said with a shrug.

Maya stopped and studied him. “You look like you’re in a good mood,” she said, her eyes narrowing.

Phoenix dropped the grin he didn’t know he’d been holding. “Do I?” he asked, feigning innocence. “Maybe I’m just so excited to try this channeling again.”

The look on the spirit medium’s face said she didn’t buy that for one second. “Uh- huh~” she said, her tone going sly. She grasped her hands behind her back, shuffling a step past him before she smirked over her shoulder, “You know, this house is pretty old. And the walls are literally paper thin, if you know what I mean~”

A bright flush of heat shot straight to his face, his eyes widening when he realized just what Maya must have overheard. “I- that was-! That wasn’t what it looked- I mean, sounded-!”

“Oh relax!” Maya laughed, waving off his protestations. “You think I didn’t notice you two had the hots for each other at Edgeworth’s house? Why do you think I stuck you such a tiny room?” Absolutely mortified, Phoenix hid his face behind his hands. Apparently, he was way more in denial than he thought he was. Maya Fey, Mistress of Schadenfreude, just laughed at his embarrassment and punched him in the arm. “C’mon Nick. Let’s go get some breakfast. You’ll feel better.”

He did feel better and after breakfast, he sought out Miles who had made camp at the town payphone at the bus station. As expected, the chief prosecutor was rattling off a number of instructions to his deputy back in the office, somehow managing to make Dox’s life hell over the phone. It inspired such warm, fuzzy feelings.

“Miles, I brought you food,” Phoenix said, holding out a couple of rice balls in offering. “I’m not leaving until I watch you eat it.”

Edgeworth cast him an annoyed glance, then looked to his hands. The payphone in one and his cell phone in the other. “I’ll call you back,” he told Dox before he hung up the phone and pocketed his cell. “Thank you,” he said, although he gave the rice balls an inscrutable look, as if trying to figure out how to eat them without touching them with his fingers. With a sigh, he gave it up and took a delicate bite out of one.

Satisfied, Phoenix said, “So, you ready to try the channeling again?”

Miles just rolled his eyes. “Perhaps you’d better do this without me. Without cell reception, I have to stay near the phone to pick up calls.” However, when the former defense attorney scrunched his nose, he asked, “Is there a problem with that?”

“No? Not exactly...” Phoenix hedged. “Just that Maya has a habit of channeling people that are slightly... murder-y. Might be helpful to have you nearby in case something goes wrong.”

Miles went still. “I’ll be right there.”

Two hours later found them in the exact same position as they had last night. Edgeworth didn’t even try to hide his sheer displeasure, while Maya gave the entire group an apologetic look. “I’m so sorry. It’s just not working. I don’t think I can channel her.”

“It’s okay, Mystic Maya,” Pearls said next to her, putting a consoling hand to her arm. “You’re still in training! You’ll be able to do it one day without fail.”

Gritting his teeth, Edgeworth glared at him out of the corner of his eye. “Well, Wright, I’ll thank you for this monumental waste of time,” he bit out. “It took precious time away from your cases and our investigation. We should leave here immediately to get back to work.”

Phoenix refused to let himself be baited. Maya really had given it her all and he didn’t buy that she just wasn’t strong enough. No, something else was throwing a monkey wrench into the mix. “You have to have the true name and the true face to channel the deceased, right?” he asked, just making sure that he got it right.

Maya nodded. “Exactly.”

Phoenix mulled the facts over in his mind. Is something off about this or this is one of the 60% failures? Is Benedikta’s spirit just too far to channel? As if this investigation wasn’t already complicated enough. This was going to muddy the waters even more.

Sighing, Phoenix pushed himself up to his feet. “Thanks for your help. The both of you. We should head back, like Miles said.”

“Oh! Before you leave, I have something for you!” Pearls said, before pulling out something oh-so familiar from her pocket. A slightly iridescent, green magatama. She smiled up at him. “I charged it with spiritual energy. Do you remember how to use it?”

Phoenix sucked in a breath. “Do I,” he said, reverently taking the sacred charm from her hands to cradle in his palms.

Hello, my old friend.

If only he’d had this on him when he’d been taken. He never would have been duped with the magatama in hand. His hand fisted around it tightly, feeling the cool energy press into his palm. Already, he felt so much stronger with it. Like he had his power and agency back. Miles cast the magatama a skeptical look, but didn’t comment. Perhaps thinking that a placebo effect was better than nothing.

I still don’t know how he can deny it works when he used it himself.

Oh well. Mystery for another day.

With goodbyes and a packed lunch in hand, Phoenix and Miles headed back to the red sports car parked outside the mansion. Miles was still being something of a grumpy-guss, muttering to himself about all the calls he must have missed since they were here. All smiles, Phoenix leaned over the roof of the car on the passenger’s side, “Oh cheer up, Miles. It’s not like our trip was totally useless. We learned a lot.”

“If you are referring to the fact that Ms. Fey couldn’t hypnotize us into thinking she was a spirit who died thousands of miles away, you and I have very different definitions of success,” Miles groused.

“Actually, I was referring to the little revelation you spilled last night,” Phoenix said with a smirk.

It was so, so gratifying to watch Miles Edgeworth turn as pink as the suit he owned. It was nice not being the one caught off guard. “Ah, um... yes... well,” Miles muttered awkwardly, fumbling for something to say. “Th-that is a discussion that can be tabled for another time. Let’s go. You’ll need to handle the phone while I’m driving.” He dipped out of sight, getting into the driver’s seat for the long trip back.

Phoenix got his biggest smile yet.

Not a psyche-lock in sight.

~o~

July 29, 2024
Edgeworth Residence
3:00 PM

The warm glow of their mutual affections didn’t last long.

When they arrived around the corner from Miles’ house, both of them knew that something was amiss. Police and unmarked cars littered the street, police tape cordoning off sections of the neighborhood, while officers and CSI filtered in and out of Miles’ home.

“This can’t be good,” Phoenix said, a bit redundantly Miles thought, as the pair of them got out of the car outside of the perimeter.

“Excuse me,” Miles spoke as they came up to an officer, with all the authority and gravitas that came with his station. “I’m Miles Edgeworth, Chief Prosecutor. What is going on in my house?”

The uniformed officer stared at them from his clipboard, apparently unhinged that they were present. “Uh, s-sir!” he saluted briefly before he seemed to think better of it. “Uh, I mean, Mr. Edgeworth, you, uh- Can you just stay here a moment?” With that, he ran off to one of the detectives on the scene, a man familiar to both of them, who dashed in their direction.

Detective Barnes, a hefty middle-aged man who looked like he came right out of a crime serial, looked at them just as incredulously as the officer. “Mr. Edgeworth. Mr. von Karma,” he greeted. “Kind of surprised to see you here.”

“Wright, actually,” Phoenix interjected, “and why would you be? This is his house.”

Barnes didn’t answer immediately, instead he said, “Can I see your hands, please?”

That sent the first flare of real alarm between the two. Nonetheless they complied to show that their hands were literally clean. Once he was satisfied, the detective looked up to the pair of them.

“Well, now it’s the scene of an active murder investigation,” Barnes replied. Phoenix and Miles looked at each other with a growing sense of dread. Somehow, they knew what was coming. “I’m afraid that we’re going to have to ask you to come in.”

Miles stiffened. That was not technically an arrest. They could probably fenagle their way out of this. However, it wouldn’t do to be too uncooperative. He was, after all, supposed to be the face of the legal justice system. “May I ask who was murdered?” he asked lightly.

Barnes looked at his notepad, “Josephine von Karma.”

The name hit like a sledgehammer, both of them taken aback. Phoenix went white, looking like he was about to fold. Miles steadied him, gripping his arm in a vice to keep him standing. The detective watched both of them. “I take it you know the lady?”

“Yes, she’s my sister’s, er, sister,” Miles replied, not caring how that sounded.

“Meine Cousine,” Phoenix whispered, which the prosecutor didn’t correct.

“My condolences,” Barnes replied, though it sounded rote. “Is there anyone that you need to call?”

“Yes,” Miles said, still trying to find his footing. “My sister, Franziska. She will need to know. Excuse me.” He couldn’t help but notice that a couple more uniformed officers seemed to materialize nearby. Taking out his cellphone, he mentally noted the time difference before putting Franziska on speed dial. As the other side trilled, it was Phoenix’s turn to grip his shoulder tightly.

“ Wir müssen Lana anrufen,” he whispered in instruction, his use of German only heightening the awareness of the danger they were in.

Miles nodded, “Einverstanden.” Lana would have to wait. For now, he had to figure out how to tell her sister that her blood relation was murdered. And not by his hand. Surely, she would believe that, no matter how often he had threatened Josephine in fantasy.

His heart pounded as a sleepy voice answered the line. [Kleiner Bruder? Was ist los?]

Miles swallowed. “Franziska, es tut mir leid, aber ich muss es dir-”

“In English, please,” Barnes called over his shoulder, several eyes watching him. A flare of annoyance went through him, abating his dread somewhat. He took a breath to steady himself before he tried again.

“Franziska,” he repeated, “I’m sorry, but I have to tell you that... They found your sister’s body in L.A. She was murdered.”

A chilled silence settled over the line. A silence that reeked of accusation. [Kleiner Bruder...] Franziska said slowly, [Sag mir, dass du nichts damit zu tun hast.]

“Nothing, I swear,” Miles vowed, the phone tightening in his hand. “I had no idea she was in the country. That she was here. Do you think I would have let her come anywhere near-” he bit off the words before something that sounded like motive passed his lips. “We were both with the Feys last night. We did not do this.”

There was another suggestive pause. [You’re in trouble, aren’t you?] Franziska asked, finally picking up on why he was sticking to such a ‘foolish’ language.

“We will be contacting Lana next,” Miles replied by way of answer.

[Foolish fool. Very well. The investigation here will have to go on without me. I am coming on the next flight.] With an exasperated sigh, she added, [And try to stay out of trouble for once, Kleiner Bruder.]

“Funny,” Miles drawled in the most unamused tone he could manage. “Be safe, Franziska.” When he hung up, he could see their would-be escort begin to close in around them. He straightened, wishing he wasn’t still wearing jeans, and with all the grace of professional courtesy, he asked, “Detective, my dog was in the house. Where is she?”

“At the station for processing,” Barnes replied. “Mutt was found wandering around the street covered in blood.”

That sent a chill through both of them. However, Miles forced himself to nod and said, “If you do not mind, I would like to call my assistant to pick up some fresh clothes for us. I would also like our attorney to be present during questioning.”

“Yes, of course, sir,” the detective replied sardonically with a bob of his head. He gestured towards one of the unmarked cars, door already open for them. “Now if you wouldn’t mind coming right this way...”

~o~

July 29, 2024
Police Station
9:50 PM

They were still at the station hours later, waiting on the next round of questioning. Lana had gotten the first flight she could from Seattle, heading down so that they could have their first round of questioning from the detectives. It was little surprise that the pair of them were separated from the start, questioned about their whereabouts throughout the night. They had the truth on their side, but Miles could see the rather dubious looks in their eyes that they simply had to go see a spirit medium in the middle of the night due to some kind of supernatural emergency. Nonetheless, the Feys would provide a perfect alibi for them. ...Hopefully.

By that time, he also had his suit and cravat, so he felt far less awkward but instead armed and armored for this type of environment. Phoenix was similarly armored in his own new bespoke suit that was procured from the house. As for the interviews, the entire thing was tedious and exhausting, but not insufferable. This was their battlefield, after all.

Miles checked his watch again, hunger gnawing at his insides as the three attorneys waited out in the hall of the station. He noted his companions beside him. Lana looked grim and determined. Phoenix... he looked far more haggard than he should, wan and pale. He looked as though he might faint any minute. Worse, he looked guilty. It worried Miles immensely, but unfortunately, he could not safely inquire after the man’s mental health at this very moment. Not here. Phoenix would have to endure for just a little longer.

“Sorry about that,” Barnes called out into the hall. “We wanted to get our lead prosecutor in to talk to you. Come on in.” This time all three were escorted into the interrogation room with Miles ready to glare down whomever they chose from his office to take on this case.

However, the chief prosecutor only blanched when he saw none other than Simon Blackquill sitting across from them at the table. “What the hell are you doing here?” Phoenix demanded, echoing Miles’ very thoughts.

Blackquill gave them that dry, sardonic smile of his and gestured in front of him. “Shochou, Wright-dono. Take a seat.” On his shoulder, his hawk Taka shrieked and shifted as if settling in. “I’m as surprised as you that they chose me,” he said calmly in the face of their furious expressions. “But apparently, I’m more impartial than the rest of your staff since I’m an outsider.”

“You are also heavily involved in our investigation into the von Karma family,” Miles hissed through gritted teeth. “Taking on this investigation is grossly inappropriate.”

“Yes, I’m very aware of what kind of motive you would have to cause the von Karma family harm,” Blackquill replied with a half-shrug as he stroked Taka’s puffed breast. “Besides, you brought me into your investigation for my expertise in psychoanalysis. Not as a lawyer.” Leaning in, he crooned softly to Phoenix. “Now, Wright-dono, did you kill Josephine in self-defense? You can tell me if you did...”

An already pale Phoenix went even whiter, leaning back as he stared at their turncoat compatriot in acute horror. He was trembling, hands gripping the edge of the table. Not from distress, no. From sheer, unadulterated fury.

“I think that is quite enough,” Lana broke in coolly. “My clients have been cooperative with your investigation so far, but we won’t stay here in the face of these baseless accusations. We are leaving. Now.”

Blackquill didn’t seem remotely phased by this. He merely smirked, eyes shining underneath his fringe like a promise. He simply gave them a little wave as Lana quickly hustled the pair out of the room and into the hall.

“This is bad,” Lana spoke, once they were safely outside the station and out of earshot. “How much does he know?”

“Know?” Miles echoed incredulously. “There is nothing to know. We didn’t do this.”

Exasperated, Lana elaborated, “No, I mean, how involved was he in the whole von Karma case? Why does he seem convinced that Phoenix would have done this? You have alibis.”

“There must be something they’re keeping from us as part of the investigation until the arrest,” the chief prosecutor concluded. “It’s par for the course. However, the alibis should hold.” Another detail hit. “Ah, I called Dox from the payphone in Kurain. We should make sure that we have those records.”

“I’ll dig them up,” Lana agreed. She tiredly ran a hand through her hair. “By the way, Ema has Pess, so she’ll be taken care of. I’ll stay with her tonight. Do you two have anywhere to go? They haven’t released the crime scene yet.”

Was everything he owned doomed to become a crime scene at some point?

“We’ll check into a hotel,” Miles replied. “Thank you for coming. Thank your sister for taking care of Pess as well. We’re very grateful.”

“Of course, Miles,” the former prosecutor smiled. “Phoenix, you take care. I’ll call you tomorrow.” With that, she spun on her heel and headed down to the street to catch a cab. Taking one look at Phoenix, Miles decided that they had better follow suit and flagged down a cab to take to one of his favored hotels.

Once they were safely absconded in a luxurious two-bedroom suite, the chief prosecutor finally found the opportunity and words to address Phoenix. The man barely touched the food Miles ordered from room service, staring instead into an untouched glass of wine in his hands. It was like he was in shock. Like he might shatter with the slightest touch.

Miles took a long pull of wine himself before he found the courage to speak to him. “Phoenix?” he called softly, directing the other man’s gaze to himself. “How are you? This... this can’t be easy for you.”

Sighing, Phoenix pushed the glass away from him and sat back into the leather sectional. In front of them, the news was on mute on the large flatscreen, displaying a vague report of a woman found dead in Chief Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth’s home. Details to follow.

“It doesn’t seem real,” Phoenix finally admitted. “We spent all this time trying to figure out a way to take her down and now...? Should I feel relieved? Disappointed? I thought we were going to have some kind of climactic confrontation with her. Not... this. ” A guilty grimace marred his expression, the confliction so expressive in his eyes. “Mostly I feel guilty. And pissed that I feel guilty, because I shouldn’t be feeling this way in the first place. But... she was my family for five years, Miles. Your sister’s actual sister. Even if we weren’t being accused of murder, I wouldn’t feel like celebrating.”

Wright’s fist tightened, as a flare of life came back into his eyes, “And I want to find who really did murder her. I need to find who did this.”

“We will,” Miles swore, reaching out to take Phoenix’s hand. The other man started, but after a moment, squeezed his hand back tightly. “Besides, Friedrich still has to account for his part in this. You will have your justice. I swear it.”

A weak smile stretched across Phoenix’s face. “Gosh, Miles, you sure know how get a guy a present.” The words made the fair-haired attorney’s mind mentally sputter, causing Phoenix to laugh outright at him. Well, that was fine. It was good to hear him laugh. Warm and happy, Wright’s smile only widened, his eyes glowing with affection. It made Miles’ mind stutter for an entirely different reason. “Have I told you how amazing you are lately?” he asked softly, gently rubbing his thumb in a tantalizing motion across Miles’ palm.

A sweet inviting shiver ran down Miles’ shoulders. He gingerly took his hand away, lest his emotions run away with him. The compliment helped matters not at all in making his less flustered. He coughed awkwardly, trying to compose himself. “Are you alright now? Perhaps you should eat something and head to be-” His words caught in his throat as he looked up at Phoenix’s expression.

“You don’t have to keep mothering me, you know,” Phoenix reminded him softly. Miles couldn’t figure out the dark emotions behind his eyes. They were- He sucked in an audible breath as the other man leaned in. “A guy gets to feeling awfully emasculated when you do that.” Wright raised an eyebrow. “Or are you the one that doesn’t want this?”

Miles, for his part, had to fight the urge to pull back, lest he confirm Phoenix’s thought. His voice was an embarrassing husky whisper when he replied, “Don’t start something you can’t finish.”

That seemed to take the raven haired man aback. Phoenix regarded him with that searching gaze of his, the one that always seemed to cut right through him. Then he smirked. “Good night, Miles.” And with that, he bounded up from the sofa, heading off into one of the two bedrooms. Calling his bluff.

The prosecutor let out a faint wheeze, his entire body lit with intense need. He had the acute sensation that Phoenix was holding all the strings. He could feel the tug of them, pulling him towards Phoenix’s bedroom door. Towards...

Having had quite enough of the emotional rollercoaster, Miles snipped the threads himself and headed to his own bedroom. Where he spent a sleepless night wondering if he had made the right call.

Chapter Text

July 30, 2024
Fitz Carlton Hotel
10:00 AM

“Mr. Edgeworth, you look terrible!”

Phoenix sidelined that awkward conversation at the door, burying his nose into a cup of coffee so that he didn’t have to look into Miles’ assistant’s scandalized expression. It wasn’t his fault that Miles didn’t get a wink of- 

Oh, who was he kidding, that was completely his fault. But how was he supposed to know that Edgeworth would be so tense about being flirted and teased with- 

No, no. He really did know. Somehow though, he was finding himself rather hard-pressed to feel too guilty about it. He’d spent all night waiting for Miles to show up.

After the chief prosecutor guilefully stepped around that question, Ms. Maisel brought the rest of their things into the hotel room. “I didn’t see any sign of your private investigation, sir,” she said as she laid the dry cleaning over the leather sofa. “They must have taken it as part of their case.”

“Perfect,” Edgeworth growled, rubbing a hand over his face. “Blackquill must have it all.”

Fan-flippin-tastic. Phoenix knew there was something wrong with that guy the moment he saw him. He just overcompensated for the jealous bias the man inspired in him. He should have followed his gut all along. “Any digital copies?” he asked, leaning an arm over the back of the sofa to look at the pair.

“Franziska will have them,” Edgeworth replied. “She should be arriving late this afternoon. I’m sure they will need her to identify Josephine as soon as possible, but I will ask her to meet us here afterward.”

“Well, okay, so what are we going to do for the day?” Phoenix asked. “We don’t have our cases, we won’t hear from anyone in Deutschland for hours, they won’t let us anywhere near your place. So can we do anything but just sit on our hands?”

“I am going to go into work,” Edgeworth declared in a perfunctory manner. “I’ve taken enough time off as it is and there is nothing barring me from taking care of any of the other departmental duties outside this particular investigation.” Phoenix nodded. There was also nothing stopping him from snooping and talking to his subordinates about what was going on. “You should stay here, Wright. It’s not safe out there.”

“Oh, so I’m going to sit on my hands all day then,” Phoenix replied sarcastically. However, the scalding glare that Miles sent him quickly shut him up.

“Yes, Phoenix. Josephine was in my home, likely looking for you, and was murdered by some unknown assailant that we have yet to identify,” Miles snapped. “So help me, you will stay right here until I return if I have to tie you down to the bed. Do you understand me?”

Yikes!

“Yessir!” Phoenix said with a snap to his voice, very aware that Edgeworth was perfectly capable of doing just that. Innuendo aside.

Miles shot him one last warning look before he headed into the bedroom to change. In what seems liked seconds later, he emerged in his fresh suit, shoulders back as though he were about the march into battle. “I expect a call from you every hour,” he declared, showing Ms. Maisal outside the door. “Good day, Wright.”

Such a charmer.

“Kay, love you, honey~” Phoenix called from the sofa. It was oh so gratifying to see the other man turn red and sputter, while wide-eyed Ms. Maisel put a shocked hand to her mouth.

“I said ‘Good day!’” Edgeworth snapped, embarrassed, before he slammed the door shut.

Phoenix cackled to himself a little bit after the pair departed. He checked his watch, finished the rest of his coffee, then went to change and get ready. This had a typical Wright & Co. investigation written all over it and damned if Miles Edgeworth was going to do anything to keep Phoenix Wright from a murder investigation.

~o~

July 30, 2024
Edgeworth Residence
10:45 AM

“Wow, Nick! I can’t believe you picked me out of everybody to help you! I won’t let you down, buddy!’

Phoenix didn’t tell Larry the only reason why he called him was to use his cell phone. (He had to call Miles somehow.) Also, he was the only one who wasn’t gainfully employed (and thus available). He did, however, clap a hand over his old friend’s mouth and shush him. “Larry, there are cops right there!” he hissed, reminding the other man of their predicament. Both were hunched over, skirting the perimeter of the house which was overflowing with detectives and uniforms. There was no way that they could get inside to investigate with all the cops around. Plus, it was slightly unethical to trample all over an active crime scene. However, they managed to get into the backyard without being spotted.

Once Phoenix was sure the way was clear, he waved Larry over where they pressed their backs against the wall to peek into one of the windows. There was some reason that everyone thought that this was him. He was determined to find out what it was. The kitchen window was just a touch too high, so he gestured for Larry to give him a boost. Larry provided a very wobbly support, but he managed to get just high enough to see into the kitchen.

It was sheer luck that it was where the murder had occurred. The body was no longer there, but the outline of it remained on the kitchen floor, along with blood spatter and various evidence markers. Just with a cursory glance, Phoenix hazarded it was a crime of passion. One of the knives was missing from the block and the... violence that the blood spatter suggested was that this wasn’t a rational mind. Looking over the scene with a seasoned, clinical eye, he suddenly froze when he saw something smeared over the kitchen tile in the victim's blood.

“I’m being framed!” he hissed down at Larry.

“Say- what?” his friend shot back with a wobble that nearly sent him tumbling. 

Phoenix gripped the window sill harder. “I said, I’m being framed!!” He looked up to peek again, only to freeze when he saw a very unamused detective glaring down at the pair of them from the window. “Oh Scheiße,” he squeaked, just as the detective reached out to grab him.

~o~

July 30, 2024
Chief Prosecutor’s Office
11:00 AM

The first hour of Miles’ return back to the office was chaotic, to say the least. He could scarcely even think about Phoenix’s investigation under the sudden barrage of fires he had to put out after his absence. (He did wonder what this said about him as a director if they couldn’t manage six days without him.)

He hardly noticed the disruption in the office, as Blackquill was relegated his own special space separated from the rest of them, where he could conduct his business. However, the presence of extra security darting around in the hallways did nothing to lift his spirits. Nor was the sight of Stuart Ferguson trying to slime his way into Blackquill’s good graces as his chief helper.

He was only just getting out from under his first mountain of paper, when the phone rang. He checked his watch. Phoenix, right on the dot. Steeling himself for any more embarrassing pet names, he said with resolute professionalism into the phone, “Chief Prosecutor Edgeworth speaking.”

[Oh, uh, hey Miles,] he heard Wright’s sheepish voice across the line. [How’s it going?]

Miles narrowed his eyes. “...Fine,” he said guardedly. A pause. “And how is it going with you, Wright?”

[Funny you should ask that.] Oh no. [I got arrested for trespassing. Could you bail me out?]

The phone creaked in his hand, as fury blossomed like a blood-red rose. “One job,” he growled into the receiver. “YOU HAD ONE JOB!”

~o~

July 30, 2024
Police Station
6:00 PM

Needless to say, Miles let Phoenix stew in holding a bit longer than was necessary. Stating if he couldn’t count on Wright to stay out of trouble on his own, perhaps law enforcement officers would do the job for him. Thus was he stuck sitting on his hands in a holding cell instead of a cushy hotel suite while trying to make sure that Larry didn’t antagonize anyone stuck with them with sheer annoyance.

It wasn’t even Edgeworth who eventually bailed him out, but a bemused Lana, who made him feel about three feet tall with a single raise of her eyebrow. “I had my reasons,” he said defensively, as she escorted him out into the hall.

It turned out, Miles had his own reasons for not coming himself, as Phoenix spotted him and a white-faced Franziska walking down the hall. Away from the direction of the morgue. His blue eyes caught onto Miles’ tired ones. An indiscernible moment passed between them, before Phoenix tread cautiously forward. “Franziska,” he said carefully, catching the younger prosecutor’s attention. “Is it...?”

Brave, stalwart Franziska looked him up in the eye. “Ja,” she replied in a carefully neutral tone.

Phoenix had no idea what to say, suddenly assaulted by his own whirl of emotions. Relief chief among them, but it collided with guilt and anger. He braced himself, pushing that all aside, as he gently put a hand to Franziska’s shoulder. “Mein herzliches Beileid.”

Her eyes flashed with righteous anger for but a second. As if how-dare-he give his condolences. As if, this was all his fault. And in a roundabout way, it could have been. Yet it shattered a moment later as she remembered the circumstances they found themselves in. “Nein,” she said, shaking her head. “I am sorry for everything that has happened to you... Kleiner Cousin.”

So sentimental. Feeling just a little awkward that he was suddenly family with Miles, Phoenix offered a tentative smile. “She talked about you a lot. She was so proud of her little sister.”

Franziska gave him a look so lost and broken, he nearly regretted his words. She glanced furtively to Edgeworth. “I would like to leave,” she said stiffly.

“Of course,” Miles replied, shooting Phoenix a dirty look. For what, he had no idea. “We’ll take you to the hotel. It’s been a long day.”

~o~

July 31, 2024
Fitz Carlton Hotel
7:00 AM

A small group gathered in the living room to Phoenix and Miles’ suite. The official Phoenix Wright defense team, comprising of Lana, Franziska, Maya via speakerphone, Gumshoe who had accompanied Franziska back from Germany, and... randomly Larry Butz. There was a definite tension in the air, one that didn’t have to do with the pressure of the upcoming murder case and more to do with the one-sided friction between Phoenix and Miles. Edgeworth still hadn’t forgiven him for marching over to the murder scene. Two steps into the room everyone else knew it, too.

It had been a cold, cold, quiet night.

“Thanks everyone for coming,” Phoenix said, taking charge of his own defense. While he still could. “I did a bit of digging yesterday and found out why they think I must have done it.”

“At risk of being found by the real murderer,” Edgeworth muttered darkly under his breath.

Deciding to ignore that, Phoenix went on, “PVK was scrawled on the floor in the victim’s blood.” That got everyone’s attention, tensing up like meerkats as they silently begged him to continue. “So obviously, it’s someone who knows about me. About what they did to me. Unfortunately, they picked Blackquill to head the prosecution so they all know about it too. But the fact remains that there are only a small number of people who could frame me like this in the first place.”

Miles was pensive, the shock of the revelation seeming to grant him some small forgiveness. “...Assuming that none of us had anything to do with it,” he said, as though that wasn’t a given - silly Miles - “then that would leave Friedrich.”

“Gentlemen, you are missing a very obvious theory,” Franziska interrupted, “Josephine may have written it herself. Meaning the murderer is none other than the real Phoenix von Karma.”

She smirked as she surveyed their flabbergasted expressions, letting everyone take a moment to let that sink in. Then, she slapped down her own case notes onto the coffee table. “We found his student records from his old law school. Confirming that he was, in fact, a real person. It includes pictures.”

Larry Butz dove for the notes, as if he were sucked in by quicksand. “Oh daaamn Nick, you were a hottie!” he crowed, holding up a copy of the student application.

Phoenix snatched the paper from him, taking a look for himself. What greeted him was a young, boyish but also serious face with a striking resemblance to the von Karma family. Round cheeks, large eyes marred by a striking intensity, jet black hair pulled back into a short ponytail as his once had been. “Huh,” he said, holding the picture up against Franziska to compare. “Definitely related.”

Miles peered at it as well, coming over to subtly grip his shoulder. “So this is who you replaced?” he asked, all notes of anger gone from his voice. Instead, he kept his hand on him, as if providing support.

Phoenix shot him a grateful look. It wasn’t necessary. He could stand just fine on his own now. Still, it was sweet. “What do you think?” he asked, putting the picture against himself. “Who pulls it off better?”

[Hey! I wanna see! I wanna see!] Maya cried over the phone.

“Sorry, Maya,” Phoenix called back. “You’ll see him when we figure out where he is and bring him to justice.”

Franziska delicately crossed her legs, leaning back against the sofa. “On that front, the trail goes cold in Deu- Germany. We lost his trail a little bit before Benedikta died. I’ve called in favors with my resources at Interpol, but they have turned up nothing so far. Meanwhile, Bernstein is working his contacts to see if there’s any possibility that Phoenix von Karma-”

“PVK,” Phoenix interrupted.

With a raised eyebrow, Franziska continued, “-That PVK had anything to do with Benedikta’s death. It would explain why he suddenly disappeared and why there would be a need to replace him. The scandal would have been too much for Onkel Friedrich, clearly,” she added with a disgusted scoff. “Somehow you washed up and made a perfect candidate.”

Lucky me.

“Meanwhile, the real PVK has been off the grid for five entire years. If he did murder Benedikta, he would do whatever it took to stay out of sight. Including possibly moving to an entirely different country... such as the United States,” Franziska added ominously.

[And if PVK murdered once, he probably murdered again,] Maya reasoned. She suddenly gasped, [Nick! That could mean that you’re next!]

The look in Miles’ eye said he came to that astute observation days ago. Phoenix let out a weak laugh. “Ah, well...?” he said, awkwardly rubbing his neck, “Guess I should try and make sure I don’t get murdered in the meantime?”

“Gumshoe?” Edgeworth said dryly.

With that single word, the detective gave a snappy salute. “On it, Boss!” he said, coming over to loom over Phoenix’s shoulder. “I ain’t lettin’ you outta my sight, pal!”

Phoenix’s head whipped between them. Okay, the amount communicated in that single word was impressive. But also- “I don’t need a bodyguard!” he protested. The collective glare that the entire group shot him said otherwise.

“In the meantime,” Franziska said as she collected all the notes back together after everyone had torn through them, “I will bring this to Blackquill.” She dusted herself off as she stood, “Your alibi, along with this documentation, should show there is more than enough reasonable doubt that you are the culprit. You should be, how do they say, ‘off the hook’?”

A warm, genuine smile spread across Phoenix’s cheeks. “That sounds great, Franziska. Thank you.”

An embarrassed flush warmed the young prosecutor’s own face, “Kein Problem, Kleiner Cousin.”

Phoenix shot a look to Miles. Okay, they were going to have to talk about whether or not they could both be honorary family members or not. Also, they were both older than her! The fair-haired man only replied with a helpless shrug.

However, before anyone could get a word in, the door suddenly knocked.

“Were we expecting anyone else?” Lana asked, a worried tension passing over the group.

“I’ll get it,” Edgeworth said, his voice steely. Phoenix was pushed back as Gumshoe stepped in front of him, as the chief prosecutor went to the door. When he gazed through the peephole, he seemed to simultaneously tense and relax. Then he opened it up, revealing the twisted samurai out in the dimly lit hall. “Blackquill,” he drawled, “we were just talking about you.”

“Well, you know what they say. Speak of the devil,” the felon replied with a sharp smile. He stepped into the room, letting past him two uniformed officers and a detective. “Phoenix Wright,” he called out, compelling him to step out to meet the police, “we are placing you under arrest for murder.”

All at once, Lana and Franziska were speaking over each other, one as his actual defense attorney and the other with the evidence to exonerate him. However, Blackquill shook his head at both of them. “I’m afraid this has nothing to do with Josephine, ladies. Phoenix Wright, you are being accused of the murder of Benedikta von Karma. By this man.”

“Phoenix von Karma, if you please, Herr Blackquill,” a low voice said from behind him.

And suddenly, he appeared.

The great, imposing form of one of the most infamous prosecutors in mother Deutschland, dressed in formal sable, his silver hair coiffed as though he were ready for court. His severe gaze honed in on Phoenix underneath his thick black brows, the only remnant left of his jet black hair.

All at once, all the progress that Phoenix had made had shattered, as he felt his legs give out. Only Gumshoe kept him standing, holding him up as all the strength seemed to leave his body. He was dimly aware of shouting, his knights coming to his rescue as they wrapped around the one who was responsible for this, while Blackquill just gave some apologetic excuse. He didn’t hear any of it, feeling so weak and small as Onkel Friedrich towered over even Gumshoe, who still had a protective hold on him. His Onkel smiled grimly as the officers yanked him out of Gumshoe’s hands, slapping some cuffs onto him. As he was pulled away towards the hall, the man leaned over, letting these soft, threatening words reach only his ears:

“Willkommen zurück, mein Sohn.”

Chapter Text

August 5, 2024
Police Station
9:30 AM

“This is absolutely absurd. You cannot hold my client like this!”

The chief prosecutor stood back on the perimeter of the police bullpen, letting Lana Skye rail against the powers that be with all her powers of legal persuasion. He gripped his arms tightly, feeling infuriatingly helpless, his gaze pensive as he thought about next steps.

Friedrich von Karma had arrived and he’d taken over, as severe and as omnipresent as a blizzard over the countryside. In turn, Miles had been stripped of any advantages that could have helped Phoenix in his plight. Meanwhile, his own office slowly turned against him as the alleged accomplice in what was apparently a string of murders. It was like living under Manfred all over again. A shudder went through him.

“Skye-san, Wright-dono is characterized as a flight risk,” Blackquill spoke, ever patiently. “He was using a false identity for years in a foreign country. Or the way Friedrich von Karma is telling it, he’s using a false one now to get out of a murder rap. In any case, he is not going to be let out of jail. The only reason why Edgeworth-dono is out is because he’s established in the community.” Catching Miles’ eye, he said, “Speaking of. Shochou, if I could have a word?”

Miles frowned at this. “Ms. Skye is Phoenix’s defense attorney. Whatever you have to say to me, you can say in front of her.”

The felon considered this, then shrugged, “Fine.” He led the pair into an empty interrogation room, for a bit of privacy. After a moment of hesitation, he declared, “Friedrich has been visiting Wright-dono in jail.”

Alarm swept through the pair of them. “What do you mean ‘visiting’?” Miles demanded, “Wright has the ri- Phoenix has the right to refuse any visitors without his attorneys present. What exactly has been happening under your watch? Or do you actually believe this rubbish that Phoenix stole the Phoenix Wright identity?”

“Give me some credit,” Blackquill snarked back. “Why do you think I’ve been delaying the Josephine trial so that he doesn’t get extradited back to Germany?”

It turned out that the felon was more reasonable than they expected, once they presented their evidence. With another solid suspect, he was quick to accept that the alibi was a legitimate one. However, Friedrich had already shown up and done his damage.

“Wright-dono has not exercised his right to refusal,” Blackquill remarked. “You need to go see him. Who knows what Friedrich might be triggering in him.”

That was all the urging that Miles needed. He looked to Lana. “I’ll stay here,” she assured him firmly. “You go.” With a nod, he left, briskly walking out into the parking lot (one did not run in a police station) to his car. 

~o~

August 5, 2024
Gatewater Penitentiary
11:00 AM

Phoenix did not look well. Even though he had been put into isolation for his own safety, he looked as though he hadn’t slept in days. Whatever trick Blackquill had mastered to survive here, it looked like Phoenix still hadn’t gotten the hang of it. In the private visiting room, Miles ached to reach across the table, to touch him, but he could feel the guards watching at their back. Chief Prosecutor or not, touching was verboten. For a moment, he debated speaking in German for some privacy, but he didn’t dare for fear of exacerbating whatever Friedrich had already been doing to him.

“Phoenix,” he spoke softly, cautiously. “How are you doing?”

“As well as can be expected, Herr Edgeworth,” Phoenix replied. The honorific sent a chill of dread down Miles’ back. “Thank you for visiting. It’s nice to see a friendly face.”

“Just... Miles. Just call me Miles, like you normally do,” the fair-haired man insisted.

“I... right. Right,” Phoenix said with a shake of his head, as if to clear it. “Yeah, sorry. I’m just... sorry.”

Some of the clarity came back to those blue eyes, which was a relief. “Phoenix, I heard that you were letting Friedrich visit you. ...Why?”

“Would you believe that I was trying to press him for info?” the former defender replied with a wry half-smile. “Might be backfiring a little bit. Whenever he comes in here, he keeps demanding why I killed his daughter. Showing me pictures from the case. It... it’s hard not to get taken in. He’s just so... hurt.” That haunted look came back to Phoenix’s face and all Miles wanted to do was to slap it off. “Makes a guy feel guilty even though he didn’t even do anything,” Phoenix muttered softly. His eyes returned up to meet Miles’. “God, it’s so good to see you. I thought I might be going a little crazy in here. Solitary is no fun.”

For a mentally traumatized mind that was in the middle of an identity crisis, likely not. Miles was half tempted to get arrested himself, just so he wouldn’t leave Phoenix alone in here. That wouldn’t do anyone any good, however. “Phoenix, you have to stop letting him see you. At least after the trial. Blackquill is doing all that he can to delay it while we try to track down the real killer-”

“Wait, hold on. You’re delaying it?” Phoenix demanded, suddenly spry as a keen awareness flashed in his eyes. “Why?”

“So you don’t get shipped back to Deutschland, obviously!” Miles cried, exasperated. “If you go, we will likely never see you again once you are fully under Friedrich’s power.”

However, Phoenix wasn’t listening. Instead, he was lost in thought, mind whirring at a thousand miles a second. The chief prosecutor knew the look well. There was a plan forming, like the winds stirring the breath of an unstoppable hurricane. And Phoenix Wright was unstoppable. “I’d like to exercise my right to a speedy trial,” the raven-haired man said suddenly. “Get my lawyer here, please. I need to talk to her.”

“I’m your co-defendant!” Miles cried, appalled.

“You are a conflict of interest, Herr Edgeworth,” Phoenix said primly, suddenly using that damned honorific again. He interlaced his fingers on top of the table, his posture suddenly ramrod straight. He looked calm, composed. ...Like a perfect German gentleman.

What is happening?

“Would you be so kind as to get my suit, my proper one, when I show up at court?” the younger prosecutor said politely. “Danke für Ihren Besuch. I will see you soon.” With that perfunctory statement, he stood and gestured for the guards to take him away, leaving Miles to stare after him in numb horror. Phoenix paused, glancing over his shoulder back at him. Then he gave him a wink and a grin before he was escorted back to solitary.

The sight left Miles stunned.

Then viscerally annoyed. His eye twitched as he fought to keep his rising fury in check.

Alright. Fine, Wright. You have a plan. If this is anything like the last times, you’re still half-mad.

~o~

August 7
Courthouse 4
9:00 AM

Phoenix von Karma examined himself in one of the mirrors in the hallway, only half listening as Lana doled out the game plan for the trial. Nearly all his supporters were there, including Maya and Pearl who had come especially for the occasion. All of them kept looking over their shoulder with uneasy expressions at his attire. Dressed in his formal navy blue military-esque suit and his hair styled back as tightly as it could possibly be, Phoenix reached into his pocket to pull out his real secret weapon. The magatama glowed softly in his hand, fully charged and ready to rumble.

Just like in so many cases past, he didn’t have all the facts, he was way, way out of his depth, his plan was half-cocked at best, and the stakes were higher than Everest. Wouldn’t be a turnabout any other way. Anticipation thrummed through him, eager to get this started.

He felt a presence beside him and looked up to see Edgeworth next to him, looking grim. Miles wasn’t one for being underprepared. It just wasn’t his style. So he was still in a rather foul mood from Phoenix’s utter silence about his plan. The raven-haired prosecutor expected it, but he couldn’t let Edgeworth know what he was doing and risk getting in the way of recklessly endangering himself.

Unfortunately, this was the only way.

Tentatively, he reached out, taking Miles’ hand in his for a quick squeeze. Soon, after this whirlwind was over, they were finally going to be able to talk. To sort out this tangible thing between them that kept getting pushed to the side by the barrage of obstacles.

“Change of plan,” Phoenix called out suddenly. “I want to represent myself. With Herr Edgeworth as my second-chair.”

Lana blinked at that, but gave him a knowing smile. “I’m surprised you didn’t ask sooner,” she said, before passing off a stack of case notes to Miles. The chief prosecutor looked positively green. “We’ll be in the gallery.” With that, she began to shuffle the rest of the gang over to the open doors.

“Wright!” Miles nearly shrieked, “How many times do I- I’m not a defense attorney!”

“Herr von Karma,” Phoenix corrected mildly. “And you don’t have to do anything. Just sit there and look pretty. I’ll do the heavy lifting.” If anything, Edgeworth only looked more apoplectic.

Just then, the doors opened and a shadow cast itself across the length of the waiting area. Friedrich von Karma stood with a small army of aides and second-chairs, faces grim as they strode towards the small party. Miles sucked in a sharp breath, imperceptibly edging closer to Phoenix. That fire was back in his eyes, the ugly hatred of the demon prosecutor burning in his gaze. Phoenix held himself more calmly. He’d prepared himself for this encounter and quite frankly he’d been dealing with Friedrich for years now. He knew what to expect.

“Onkel Friedrich,” he said with a polite nod in greeting. He put a hand casually into his pocket, feeling for the magatama.

“Niko,” the hulking man growled, his black eyebrows furrowing with righteous fury. “I look forward to getting this farce over with,” he said, waving a hand over the room as though he were a king showing off his subjects, “and taking you back to Deutschland where you belong.”

Nothing. Not a thing. Either the magatama wasn’t working or...

“Onkel,” Phoenix spoke, ducking his head deferentially, “all due respect, but you know me. Why do you think I have anything to do with Benedikta’s murder?” In all his visits to the prison, Friedrich had only asked why he’d done it. Showing pictures, trying to wrangle a confession out of him, guilting him with the weight of the family mantle. Phoenix had simply assumed that Friedrich pulled this stunt now that he was in the States and out of his control, but if there was something else going on...

The way he asked, the righteousness, the betrayal... As if I owe him something.

Friedrich’s brow furrowed deeper. For the first time, a flicker of doubt flecked the fresh outrage over his daughter’s murder. “Niko,” he said slowly, “du hast es mir selbst gesagt.”

~o~

Miles went still, all the breath escaping from his lu ngs. Someone, posing as Phoenix... No, posing as PVK had... confessed? To Friedrich von Karma? With a sudden burst of clarity, he realized the truth. Friedrich wasn’t pulling any strings. He was the puppet. The dupe. The fool.

And Wright didn’t react. He simply nodded, as if this was what he had been expecting all along...

However, before Miles could take him aside and demand what he was thinking, Blackquill arrived with his own retinue of guards, creating a wide berth in the crowd as he strode up to the group. Taka perched upon his shoulder, talons curled into the thin material of the prisoner’s stripes. Blackquill looked Friedrich and his entourage up and down, not in the least bit impressed. “Von Karma-san, I would appreciate it if you and yours would head up to the gallery. For the moment, this is still my case.” The two indomitable wills glared each other down, a tension making the air thick and warm. The chief prosecutor had seen many a battle of egos in his line of work, little scuffles here and there from his underlings. It usually never escalated to the level that you were grateful there were no weapons present.

If he wasn’t so uneasy, Miles would have been amused to see Friedrich eventually and unwillingly cow to a shackled felon’s demands. “You will be mine soon,” the german patriarch said in dark promise to Phoenix, as he nodded for his goons to head over to the courtroom gallery.

Breathing just a little easier, Blackquill turned to Miles and Phoenix. He cocked an eyebrow, looking up and down at the von Karma trappings. He glanced to Miles, who could only shrug helplessly in reply. He didn’t know what was going on either.

“Wright-dono?” Blackquill asked.

“Herr von Karma, please,” Phoenix replied, all stiff politeness, a smattering of hostility in his words - as it always emerged whenever the felon came near him. “I would appreciate it if you could play along.”

Blackquill regarded him for a moment, before rolling his eyes. “It’s not any of my business if you want to hang yourself,” he replied, before making his own way into the courtroom. Miles wasn’t fooled for a moment. He witnessed for himself how hard the felon fought to keep Phoenix out of Friedrich von Karma’s hands. No, Blackquill was as curious as the rest of them to see just what Phoenix Wright was going to do.

~o~

Phoenix’s eyes kept searching the gallery as everyone in the court settled into their places, the din of chatter and speculation echoing off the high ceilings. He wasn’t finding what he needed and anxious dread began to pull at the calm front he projected for the crowd, threatening to make him sweat like he did during his very first trial. If this didn’t work, he was completely, totally, irrevocably screwed.

The chatter began to hush as Judge Baldy entered the courtroom (of course it was him) and the bailiff called out, “All Rise!” The Judge waved them all back to their seats, before taking his own place. “Docket number 4:24MD2467. State versus... Phoenix von Karma and Miles Edgeworth.” The bailiff frowned at that before continuing. “Defendant von Karma is charged with first degree murder of Josephine von Karma. Defendant Edgeworth is charged as an accessory.”

The Judge looked over in his direction. Hard to tell if the man recognized him or not. “How do the defendants plead?”

A cold sweat broke out over Phoenix as he cast one last helpless look over the gallery. Friedrich smirked darkly at him, misinterpreting his look of dread. Slowly, he stood, feeling as though he were walking himself up to the gallows. However, he took a long breath, fingertips on the table keeping him steady, as he composed himself. Then he spoke:

“I plead guilty, your Honor.”

Quiet shock rippled throughout the courtroom.

“...I’m sorry... What?” Blackquill said slowly, tuning into the collective thought of the courtroom. Clearly, if he was expecting something, it wasn’t this.

“What?!” Miles echoed, chair skidding as he spun to stare at him. Phoenix refused to meet his eyes, mentally apologizing for what he was about to do.

“I, Phoenix von Karma, killed Josephine von Karma. I did it by myself. Edgeworth had nothing to do with it,” Phoenix replied, forcing the tremble out of his voice. All at once, the gallery cried out, the cacophony of shock and amazement drowning out the gavel the Judge slammed repeatedly. Not in the least of which was Friedrich, who shoved himself up to his feet to bellow at him:

“Explain yourself Niko!” he demanded. “After she saved you, how could you repay her like this!”

Saved me, huh?

Feeling more nervous about this part than any other, Phoenix took Miles’ hand in his, holding it up for the world to see. “Josephine was planning on taking me away from my lover,” he declared, letting the inference be known. “I’m sorry, Onkel Friedrich, I’m in love with Miles Edgeworth.”

Phoenix chanced the tiniest glance at Miles out of the corner of his eye. The man looked utterly catatonic, frozen in silent horror. Edgeworth was not a man who publicly broadcasted that he even possessed feelings and much less in his hallowed Halls of Justice.

I’m so sorry Miles, he cringed, wondering when the man would figure out this is why he wanted him as second-chair. Probably as soon as his brain rebooted itself. He had to keep going before the very real possibility of Edgeworth killing him where he stood.

Letting Miles go, he stepped closer to Friedrich, speaking quickly, his words urgent and pleading, addressing the patriarch who stared at him in open-mouthed astonishment. “I’m sorry, Onkel Friedrich. I cannot give him up. But I know that I have betrayed you. I’ll pay penance for Josephine’s death.” He put his hands together, begging for forgiveness. “I’ll come back with you to Deutschland and do everything you say. If you just let me have this one thing, I vow to be the perfect son that you always wanted.”

The words somehow were having an effect on the man, who watched Phoenix throw himself at his mercy. He struggled to say something, seemingly conflicted. Then he finally asked, “What of Benedikta?”

“I never harmed a hair on her head,” Phoenix swore fervently, with all the sincerity that the truth could provide. “You know I wouldn’t. You were tricked, Onkel. Do you really think that I could have done such a thing?”

“You killed Josie.”

“An accident,” Phoenix replied quickly. “Why would I willingly jeopardize everything I’ve ever worked for? You taught me better.” He could see the man waver. The need to have his perfect heir was a double-edged sword. For once, he would use it against the man that wielded it. “Haven’t I made you proud, Onkel? I came back from the dead for you. Surely we can overcome a little thing like having a boyfriend.” Once again, he heard Edgeworth choke, but he ignored it.

Through sheer force of will, he took Friedrich’s large, rough hand and placed it on his own shoulder. A paternal gesture, an offering. “Onkel Friedrich, take me back and I will make you prouder than you ever thought possible.”

That harden steel face began to fracture, Friedrich’s composure threatened by the self-same emotional wreckage that Phoenix had witnessed so many times. The man had lost so much. He was vulnerable, swayed as Josephine must have swayed him, by the promise of having his family whole. This was why he was brought in as a replacement. What Josephine must have meant to accomplish. This was why he had been molded into a replica before he even met the patriarch. If the man could have nothing else, he would have his heir.

Friedrich’s fingers tensed, hesitated, then gripped his shoulder tightly. Almost painfully. “Niko,” he spoke in a strained shudder and for a panicked microsecond, Phoenix felt the familiar tug of filial affection. If this carried on, he was doomed. Doomed to head back under his Onkel’s wing. To be shackled to the von Karma family. Doomed to lose himself forever.

“LIES!” a voice suddenly screamed out from the gallery, “Betrüger! Fake!”

All eyes turned to see a young man intermingled in the public gallery, decked in black and navy street clothes. He ripped off his hat and glasses, revealing jet black hair and sharp blue eyes. His expression twisted into a snarl, almost feral as his eyes glowed in outrage. He could have been Franziska’s brother.

Phoenix looked to the outcrier. The real Phoenix von Karma. And he nearly fell to his knees in sheer relief.

Oh thank God. It worked.

Chapter Text

Before anyone could fully react to the interruption, Phoenix von Karma strode towards Phoenix and Friedrich in righteous fury. His brisk stride hastened, heels clicking against the ground. His hands clenched at his sides, eyes spelling murder.

Suddenly remembering that he was in fact a murderer, Blackquill and Miles acted instantly. “Seize that man!” the chief prosecutor ordered, pointing to the intruder, just as the felon spoke to the judge: “Your Honor, the prosecution subpoenas Phoenix von Karma as a material witness in this case.” (It wasn’t quite in the right order, but no one seemed to notice.)

Just as everyone moved in that instant, they stopped just as abruptly in an action-freeze tableau. Miles had jumped forward, looking to bodily protect Phoenix from the murderer. However, it was Friedrich who had gotten there first, acting on instinct to shove Phoenix roughly behind him. Yet he froze as soon as he saw just who had invaded the courtroom.

“Niko?” Friedrich breathed, jerking forward as the bailiffs tackled the young man to the tiled floor before he could get near the pair of them. He looked between the two men, new son and old, a familiar confusion clouding his vision.

Josephine’s doing. He was not her only victim. Not by a long shot.

“I’m sorry, Onkel Friedrich, but you’ve been had,” Phoenix said, using his hands to rub through his hair and let his natural spikes fly free. “I really am Phoenix Wright. I was used to replace him,” he said, gesturing to the mad man who was shrieking in German and struggling against his captors. Phoenix von Karma, aka Niko, was finally subdued and nearly thrown in front of the judge on his knees. “He’s the one that really killed Josephine.” Dumbfounded, Friedrich fell back onto the bench, as if he couldn’t support his muscled bulk any longer. The recognition was there when he looked upon Niko, but the belief was still largely missing.

“Why on earth did he reveal himself?” Blackquill asked, now that the danger had passed. He crossed his arms, looking over the seething perpetrator with a critical eye.

“I had a hunch,” Phoenix said, still muddling through it himself. He knew what that environment was like. He understood the pressure, the crushing compulsion to shape yourself into someone you weren’t, just to fulfill a patriarch’s unreasonable expectations. It was enough to make anyone unhinged. He only had to deal with it for five years. Niko had to deal with it his entire life. “He didn’t want to be the heir himself, but he couldn’t stand anyone else getting the mantle, perhaps. I was kind of counting on him to being the real murderer... and being here... and...”

He felt a dark presence at his back and turned to see Miles Edgeworth dole him a black glare from underneath his fringe, radiating barely repressed rage. Phoenix swallowed and let out a nervous laugh. “Er, um, sorry... about that... Edgeworth... Had to be done...?”

Miles narrowed his eyes, his Look promising retribution of a deep and most personal level. In the only peace offering he could think of, Phoenix took the magatama from his pocket and flipped it like a coin in the man’s direction. Edgeworth caught it mid-air, raising an eyebrow when he looked at the small green object in his palm. “You’ll need it, won’t you?” Phoenix asked, tugging off his cravat. He sent the man a grin, “For doing the cross on Phoenix von Karma.”

Just like that, all past misdeeds were forgotten as Miles Edgeworth felt the siren song of vengeance. (Just as Phoenix hoped, haha!) This was the very opportunity he had been waiting for. The chance to make them pay, starting with the one who had instigated all of this to begin with. “Gladly,” the prosecutor purred, clenching a fist around the small magatama.

As Miles went back to the defendant’s stand to get his papers in order, Blackquill turned an appraising eye on Phoenix, “That was very nicely done, Wright-dono. Excellent use of the Power of Suggestion if I’ve ever seen it.”

“Yeah, well,” Phoenix muttered awkwardly, shrugging out of his military-style coat now. He was itching to get out of all the von Karma vestments as soon as possible, as if he were allergic to them. “Been on the receiving end of it enough times.”

Now that his solo performance was over, the courtroom was back to its cacophonic rabble, while the Judge tried to call the court to order after the upheaval. Phoenix took the opportunity to sneak off to his own cohort of supporters in the gallery. Particularly Maya, who was holding onto his suitbag for him. As soon as he got close, she punched him in the arm. “Wha- Ow!” he cried, holding his injury. “What was that for?!”

“You-! Why are you so reckless?!” Maya cried, puffing her cheeks in indignation. “It gets kind of old, you know!”

“I’ve done way more dangerous stuff than that,” the attorney protested, taking his suit back from her hands.

“It was... incredibly uncomfortable to watch,” Lana replied, her expression pained.

Phoenix could have snarked back something about how uncomfortable it was to do, but something in all their expressions made him hold his tongue. Despite things having turned out this way, there was still a latent fear in their eyes. As though they had just watched him nearly lose his life. “I... Sorry, I should have given some warning,” he apologized. “I just didn’t want anyone to stop me. Or, y’know, tell Edgeworth.”

“Oh my Gawd, he was so mad,” Larry cackled, bringing some levity back to the group. “I thought he was going to wring your neck!” That sent a titter of laughter through the group. Phoenix joined with a weak one of his own. He was going to pay for that later. He knew it.

They weren’t out of the woods yet, so Phoenix snuck off to change back to his suit and waistcoat as quick as he could. By the time he snuck back in, the trial was already underway with Miles circling around Niko’s testimony like a leopard on the hunt.

~o~

“-so you see, Herr von Karma, we have ample proof that Phoenix Wright and I were nowhere near the scene of the crime on the night in question,” Miles spoke, rifling through the sheets of evidence prepared for this trial for the benefit of the Judge and the gallery. He knew all of it by heart, though it was Lana who was supposed to present it. “Josephine von Karma was stabbed repeatedly. Sixty times. A clear crime of passion by someone who knew her. And we have evidence at the scene where the victim implicates you as the real murderer.”

“I had nothing to do with that. I could have been framed,” Niko replied arrogantly. His gloved hands were shackled to the stand, presenting a very real danger to his so-called replacement.

“By whom exactly?” Miles demanded, slamming a hand on his podium. “We saw for ourselves in this very courtroom your emotional outburst at the thought of Phoenix Wright replacing you as Friedrich von Karma’s heir. Why would you not want to do harm to the woman who had made it happen?”

“I was already long gone before this faker arrived,” Niko said dismissively. There was a refinement and sophistication about his words and his gestures. Yet the undercurrent of barely repressed violence and hostility was undeniable. This was, without a doubt, a man capable of murder. “Then he stayed in my home for five years. If I really wanted to hurt either of them, would it not have been easier to do so in my native country? No one even knew I was here, but everyone knew about this fake von Karma. If the message wasn’t to hurt me, it could very well have been meant for him. After all, you’re keeping him in your home like a pet. Don’t you both have enemies?”

“How would you know Wright is staying in my home?” he asked lightly, trying to snare Niko into his own contradiction.

Niko merely smirked. “After that display, doesn’t everyone?”

Miles refused to let himself blush, refocusing on how to tackle his opponent. He was a smooth talker, no doubt. It was just about the only thing he and Wright had in common.

“Herr von Karma, where were you on the night in question?” Miles demanded instead.

“Well, I can certainly tell you I wasn’t in L.A.” Niko replied, grinning sharply. “Don’t tell you you and yours haven’t been combing the entire city for any sign of me ever since then. Wouldn’t they have found something by now if I was actually around?”

“You’ve managed to elude everyone for five whole years, Herr von Karma,” Miles reminded both him and the court. “It stands to reason you’d be quite accomplished at staying under the radar. Now, sir, what is your alibi?”

“I don’t recall,” the young von Karma replied in what could only be a blatant lie.

“You don’t... recall, ” Miles repeated, his voice dripping with skepticism.

“No. I don’t.”

“Herr von Karma, you might not be overly familiar with litigation, but even you should know a paltry excuse when you hear one,” the chief prosecutor pressed.

“Maybe you’re not the one familiar with investigations, because some of the most rehearsed and researched alibis are the ones that are fake,” Niko replied in turn. “Now, you’re supposed to prove that I was at the scene, aren’t you? Isn’t that burden of proof on you?”

Miles kept his cool, looking to the gloves his suspect fiddled with. “Remove your gloves, please.”

For his part, Niko didn’t look remotely guilty as he removed the black leather gloves from his hands. There, as was so common in so many stabbings, bloody bandages striped the palm of his dominant hand. To stab someone sixty times, it was impossible not to get injured in the act.

“And where would those have come from?” Miles asked triumphantly.

“Oh this?” Niko calmly began to undress his bandaged palm. He held up a hand, showing off what was not bloody incisions that came from a blade. Instead a hot fresh red and white blistering third degree burn striped across his palm for everyone to see. “Had a bit of an accident at the stove.”

It took all the prosecutor had not to recoil at the sight of it, the implication of it.

That’s too recent. He did that to himself. To cover up the knife wounds. It would have been unimaginably painful... He didn’t even know he was going to reveal himself.

PVK was most certainly disturbed. However, now he was drawing up blanks on how to physically tie the man to this crime.

Know the answer before you ask the question, Miles reminded himself. Yet, he hadn’t exactly anticipated that he’d be cross-examining someone he met only a half-hour ago with absolutely nothing but circumstantial evidence. Normally, he wouldn’t think of even charging a man like this, but both he and Phoenix were still under the gun. It meant he hadn’t come to grips with the right strategy to handle this man yet. As it was he was being particularly slippery.

He felt the weight of the magatama burning a hole in his pocket. So far, he refused to use the damned thing, the very idea of relying on the supernatural absurd and galling. ...And yet it had worked for him before. Perhaps it used vibrations or something or other to sense when their suspect was holding something back. Then again, with a pathological liar like this, surely it would only throw up false positives? Nonetheless, he grasped the magatama in his palm and said, “Let’s start over. What was your relationship with the victim?”

“Kusine Josie?” Niko asked, “she was older than I by far. I lived with her from a young age in her summer house in München. She was like an older sister, even a mother. She was very good to me.”

“So you never argued with her? Had any conflict with her?”

“One does not argue with Josephine von Karma,” Niko replied, raising an eyebrow. “She will make you feel like a fool and a savage in under a minute.” At the Defense, Phoenix reluctantly nodded in agreement, as if that had been his experience as well.

“And what exactly preceded your disappearance from the von Karma household?” Miles asked, leaning forward as he gauged the other man’s expression. 

“A disagreement about my place in the family,” Niko replied coldly. An odd, almost ethereal rattle sounded from the back of the prosecutor’s mind. Its ghostly nature sent a chill down his spine. This was it. What he was looking for.

“Explain,” he demanded.

The young von Karma raised an eyebrow at that. “There’s not much to say. I didn’t want to be subjected to Friedrich’s unreasonable obligations anymore. Surely, Phoenix Wright can attest to that. I spent my life under his thumb and I detested it. The whole thing was... dare I say it without sounding like some grumbling adolescent... It was grossly unfair. Unjust. I decided I had to get away.”

“And what did Josephine have to do with that?”

“Nothing. She wasn’t even there,” Niko replied with a sharp smile.

Now he was getting nothing again. It was likely the truth. “Then you hear years later that Josephine had taken someone else under her wing. Taking your rightful place as Friedrich von Karma’s heir. This didn’t bother you?”

“Not in the least,” again with the airy demeanor. Yet no rattle of chains. Niko instead let out a bark of laughter, “If anything, I felt sorry for him. If it hadn’t been him, it likely would have been somebody else.”

“Even when he became successful?”

“Meaningless,” Niko replied with yet another flippant wave. “Even if he won every case for the rest of his life, his start was mediocre. Granted by normal standards, his record is excellent. By von Karma standards, Friedrich would have a below-average heir and that was fine by me.”

Miles narrowed his eyes. He had to get back to that rattle. “So, you’re telling me that Josephine had absolutely nothing to do with the rift between you and the rest of your family?”

All at once, there they were. Multitudes of ancient red locks. Psyche-locks, Wright had called them. Though he was prepared, he still couldn’t help but take a step back in surprise as they appeared out of thin air, dividing the air between him and the defendant. As though he were somehow in tune with the psychotropic tool, Phoenix leaned in close to murmur, “You see them, right?” At his faint nod, Wright grinned. “Alright, you got him on the ropes. Keep going.”

However, Phoenix von Karma wouldn’t let something as insignificant as reshaping reality disarm him. “No,” he replied curtly. “Josie had nothing to do with it. As I said, she wasn’t even there.”

That was a blatant lie, but unfortunately, Miles had nothing to contradict it. Nonetheless, he kept pushing. “Perhaps she wasn’t there, but she was a significant part of your life. She had a hand in developing the fabric of your family. Could she perhaps have contributed to the events that led up to the separation?”

Niko glowered at him. “No,” he lied again, as the locks around him rattled. “Josie didn’t contribute to the rift.”

“No influence in any way?”

“No.”

“She was like a mother, as you said in your own words. I find that hard to believe.”

“She was only my cousin.”

“Yet she took such drastic steps to replace you. Could that not have come from guilt?”

“I don’t know what she’d feel guilty about if she wasn’t there.”

“So, you’re telling me that this woman who played a significant role in your life, simply hung back and allowed you to leave the family? Just like that?”

“Just like that,” the defendant replied, before looking over his shoulder plaintively at the Judge. “Your Honor, I believe that this constitutes badgering the witness? This is growing rather tiresome.”

The Judge narrowed his eyes, his hand threatening stroking the handle of his gavel. “I have to agree, Mr. Edgeworth. Are you going anywhere with this?”

Miles let a frustrated growl out as Niko met accusation with lie after lie. With no evidence to contradict his testimony, he had no ammunition to undercut him. Those foul Psyche-locks did nothing more than shiver and rattle, but otherwise remained unbreakable. Yet there was something there. The true motive. If he could just find it and grasp it in his hands, he would break the case wide open. “Just a moment, please,” he begged politely, turning to his support.

“Make it quick,” the Judge threatened as Miles conferred with his partners.

“There is something very unsettling about him,” Lana remarked from beside him, her expression inscrutable as she regarded their suspect. “He’s as cool as a cucumber. Even at the very idea of being replaced. Not very many people would be.”

“Well, something set him off earlier,” Phoenix piped in, folding his arms as he glanced over at the man in question. “He just about went crazy, couldn’t help but reveal himself after that.”

The group mulled it over, but it was a young voice that chimed in, catching all of their attention. “Ah, well, maybe it’s because Mr. Edgeworth is Mr. Nick’s special person?” Pearl asked tentatively, a blush warming her tender cheeks.

“Of course,” Lana nodded, thinking of the incongruities in the case. “Think about it. Maybe it’s not about Miles specifically. Who is missing from this entire scenario? What also preceded his disappearance? Benedikta’s death. Didn’t they live together from a young age? Why doesn’t he talk about her? What does she have to do with all this?”

“It’s undeniable she suffered a suspicious death and that he likely had something to do with it,” Franziska remarked. “To have him disappear right when she dies? However, that’s not enough to say that she died by his hand. Moreover, we have no idea what the motive for her murder would be.”

Miles looked with uncertainty at the Judge, who was quickly growing tired of this line of inquiry. “I barely have any tries left before I get shut down. I cannot just casually accuse him of a second murder. I have nothing to prove that.”

“...Call a recess,” Wright said. A wise action, but-

“On what grounds?” Miles asked.

“You need to get another witness.” And in an action that did not reassure the chief prosecutor in the slightest, Phoenix sent a significant look over his shoulder to none other than Maya Fey.

~o~

August 7
Office of Miles Edgeworth
2:00 PM

“Need I remind you that we tried this already?”

The defense team had gathered in his office for their private conference, though Blackquill had wandered in as well, giving up the pretense now that they were out of the courtroom.

Edgeworth was none too happy at Phoenix’s suggestion they try to use Maya to summon Benedikta’s ghost (again). Granted, it failed miserably last time, but where was the harm in trying again? However, Miles sat at his impressive desk with an imperious glare over his interlocked fingers as he looked over Phoenix and Maya both, who felt like shrinking under his withering gaze. 

“I’m sorry,” Blackquill said, entirely new to the realm of the supernatural. “You want to do what exactly?”

He was summarily ignored by the veterans. 

“It’s only one of our contingency plans,” Lana reminded the chief prosecutor. They already had multiple in the works. Ema ran off to CID to see if she could find anything that linked Niko to the crime scene, Franziska went to rouse Bernstein in the middle of the night you see if he had anything new on Benedikta’s death, and Gumshoe went to see if he could ascertain Niko’s most recent whereabouts. (Though if Interpol couldn’t, there wasn’t much hope for poor Gumshoe.) Give them a week and they might be able to nail the slippery eel to the wall.

Unfortunately, they just didn’t have that kind of time.

“I could try Josephine von Karma?” Maya suggested.

A visceral shudder swept through Phoenix at the very thought. “No!” he said with such force that his old friend took an alarmed step back. More gently, he said in a strained voice, “Absolutely not, Maya. She’s not a person you want inside your head. It isn’t worth... that.”  

“It is a good thought,” Miles mused. “Not the channeling,” he clarified at their incredulous looks, “but finding a different witness.” His eyes subtly glanced over in the direction of the door, to the rest of the office - where Friedrich von Karma had made himself quite at home in recent days. Although, now that Phoenix Wright (and consequently Edgeworth) were somewhat exonerated, their fair-weather friends could barely look them in the eye when they came back into the office to strategize. Though Phoenix had no doubt that Stu was stirring up rumors already about his and Miles’ relationship.

“You really think he’d testify? For us?” Phoenix asked.

“Oh that won’t be a problem. I’ll just subpoena him for the prosecution,” their resident felon said with a dark smile. There was something about that dangerous look that left no doubt in their minds, though it made Phoenix more than a little uneasy. “Not only that, he’s a perfect witness. He had grounds to arrest you for the murder of Benedikta von Karma, substantial or not. He knows more than he’s letting on. Like the fact that his daughter was murdered, first of all. Moreover, he might know about the rift that drove PVK away.”

“Very well,” Edgeworth nodded in agreement. “Add him to the witness list. Blackquill, I’ll rely upon you for his testimony. Go find Franziska and see if she’s found out anything more about Benedikta’s murder.” The felon nodded, giving a two finger salute as he went out to do just that, followed by his retinue of correction officers.

When Edgeworth looked back to Phoenix and Maya, he merely sighed. “You know my feelings on this. I cannot possibly allow any speculative testimony that would only color the proceedings without giving any factual evidence.” A pause. “That being said... if you can use it as a technique to prompt more testimony out of PVK, I will...” At this, Miles looked truly pained, “I will allow Ms. Fey to take the stand. Is that understood?”

It was just about as close as Miles Edgeworth would ever get to condoning the practice. Phoenix never thought he’d see the day where the man compromised over mysticism. He grinned like a loon. “Sounds good to me.” He elbowed Maya affectionately. “Now it’s just up to you.”

“Got it,” Maya replied, bobbing her head as a strangely unfamiliar veneer of responsibility and determination veiled her features. She really had grown up when he wasn’t around. “I’ll work on it right now. Come on, Pearl.” With that, they left to find a quiet place where the two spirit mediums could focus on their craft.

Miles checked his watch. “We have another half an hour before we have to get back to Court. Meet us back in the waiting area of Courtroom 4 in fifteen minutes. I’d like a moment with my client.” Even though technically Phoenix was her client, Lana nodded and led what little of the group remained out of the room, leaving Miles and Phoenix to themselves.

The air was suddenly tense, almost hot , making Phoenix swallow hard when he remembered the injustice he’d wrought upon Edgeworth only earlier that day. Edgeworth, who stared intensely at him over his clasped fingertips, not saying a word. Miles, whom he so thoroughly embarrassed and humiliated in the hallowed halls he so venerated.

“Miles, I’m-”

“I should have you disbarred for presenting false evidence in Court,” Miles suddenly said, slowly pushing himself up from his seat. He rounded about his desk, his gait slow and purposeful, making Phoenix feel as though he were being hunted.

“Th-that wasn’t- Look, I know I went too far, but I was play-acting,” Phoenix protested, holding up his hands to placate the other man, or possibly to protect himself. As Edgeworth neared, he felt himself backing away. “I can tell everyone that it was a ruse. I mean, it’s not like I was about to run off to Deutschland, right?”

His back suddenly hit the wall. He was cornered. And Miles was still coming closer. “The damage to my reputation has already been done,” he spoke, his voice low and dangerous. “I will never be able to recover it.”

Phoenix tried again, “Miles, I-”

A hand slammed into the wall just left of his ear, shutting him up. “I need to redress this, Wright. I won’t let it stand.” The words came out as a threatening growl. 

Just as he was about to swear that he would do anything to fix it- He found a pair of lips smashed into his own, hot and devouring, making him gasp. It only gave Miles the opportunity to probe deeper, his hands pressing, pulling, tugging him closer into a delicious friction.

Oh. ... Oh!

Just then, Miles’ fingers ripped the waistcoat open, sending pale-blue buttons flying. “My vest!” Phoenix squeaked.

“Shut. Up. Wright,” the prosecutor snapped, yanking him over to the heavy desk, straddling him against the hard wood. All other protest fled from Phoenix’s mind as he was shoved onto his back, wrists restrained over his head, as Miles Edgeworth rectified the false evidence.

Chapter Text

August 7
Courtroom 4
2:45 PM

Miles Edgeworth, the consummate professional, was late. So was Phoenix, but that was the usual state of affairs. For a ghastly fifteen long minutes, it was far more worrying that their star prosecutor had supposedly gone missing. Everyone was rather relieved when the Chief Prosecutor finally arrived to the waiting area with not a hair out of place. Contrary to him, Phoenix looked just a little bit... harried in comparison. His waistcoat was mysterious gone, the new suit he was so proud of was frumpled, and he looked just a little dazed. Not at all like his sharp self.

“Is... everything okay?” Lana asked, raising an eyebrow as the pair of them approached.

“Quite satisfactory,” Edgeworth replied. Was that just a hint of smugness in his expression? “I apologize for our tardiness.”

Off to the side, Wright gave a thumbs-up and a wink to his old friend Larry. Larry Butz, in turn, mock gasped, slapping his hands against his cheeks, before gesticulating wildly with his arms. All of this without uttering a single sound. It looked like Larry clued in onto what happened immediately. The amount of non-verbal communication was most impressive.

Whatever it was, (she was a smart woman, she could guess,) Lana decided that it was none of her business.

“Are we all ready?” Edgeworth asked, looking around the group.

Blackquill and Franziska, who had been conferring intensely, looked up from their work. “Ready as I’ll ever be,” the felon replied. From their grim expressions, they didn’t have any more than they did before. It would be up to Blackquill to get Friedrich von Karma to implicate his own blood relation.

Maya, for her part, had been truly struggling. Lana surmised that it was unusual for her to be so daunted by a single summoning. The frustration was evident on her face, as she gave the pair a drawn smile. “Sorry, I have to keep trying while you cross-examine Friedrich.”

“Don’t strain yourself,” Edgeworth replied dryly, although he didn’t look particularly displeased at this development. He gestured to the doors. “Now, shall we?”

As they entered the courtroom, it was clear that things had shifted in their absence. It wasn’t visibly obvious, but there was a stirring in the air, a tension. Battle lines were redrawn, alliances adrift. The von Karma patriarch seemed to have recovered from his shock, his hard expression a mask of stoic determination. Niko stood, still shackled, at the witness stand with unflappable calm.

It instantly made the defense wary.

“Now, let’s get things going again, shall we?” the Judge said as he restarted court. “Mr. Edgeworth, will you be continuing your cross-examination of the witness?”

The chief prosecutor stood and said confidently, “the Defense chooses to defer the cross-examination for the moment, Your Honor. We instead call a new witness to the stand who will be able to shed some light on a pattern of behavior and possible motive.” Taking a pause for dramatic effect, he spoke to an utterly silent courtroom, “We call Friedrich von Karma to the stand.”

The moment was ruined, when Niko let out a bark of laughter. That wariness suddenly escalated to full-blown alarm. “Oh, you’re too late,” Niko tittered, grinning viciously at them. “I have exercised my right to retain legal counsel. Onkel Friedrich is my attorney now. He isn’t capable of testifying against me. Attorney-Client privilege.”

The blow against their plan was almost palpable, making the prosecutors rock back unsteadily. However, Edgeworth refused to let it shake him long. He straightened, rising up to the challenge. “That applies only to the statements you’ve made to him. He can still provide pertinent information to the case. I am still allowed to question him.”

Judge Baldy spoke, “Now, now, we need to sort this out. All of you get up here.” He set his gavel down an in a rare show of judicial oversight.

Bemused, Blackquill shook his head and stood up to take his place, accompanied by the rattle of his own chains. Miles, Blackquill and Friedrich all went to the judge, clearly needing to hash out just what prosecution was even allowed to ask about. This was a handicap that none of them needed. 

When they returned to their respective places none of them betrayed any concessions or limitations that may have been made. However, Miles seemed somewhat at a loss for how to proceed, cut off at the legs as he was. 

Finally, he started: “Initially, you believed that Phoenix Wright was responsible for both the murders of Josephine von Karma and Benedikta von Karma. Why is that?”

“Ahem,” the Judge coughed. Apparently, this was cutting quite close to the confidential information. “Careful, Mr. Edgeworth.”

“It is alright, Your Honor,” Friedrich replied, holding up a hand. “I believed that Niko... Herr Wright was the culprit responsible due to timing and circumstance. Josie- Josephine was killed in the house of the family traitor, whom Herr Wright had run off to after leaving our home. Opportunity and motive. It was a simple supposition.”

Having known Manfred von Karma, and being somewhat more removed from the emotional subjectivity than most, Lana could see the similarities between the two men. The stoic, intimidating demeanor, the no-nonsense manner of speaking. Yet this was not a man who had achieved the same international renown as his younger brother, whether that be by choice or by lack of talent. Lana suspected it was the former. Based on Phoenix’s own accounts and the way every little action, every word, demanded poise and excellence, he was not a man to be underestimated.

“Do you believe that Wright killed Josephine now?”

Friedrich looked directly at the man in question, his expression unreadable. The court held its collective breath. “I do not,” he finally answered. “The evidence is clear. He was not there. It would be foolish to keep holding onto that idea in the face of the facts.”

The answer seemed to stun Phoenix, who openly gaped at him. However, somehow Lana was less surprised. This was where the two brothers differed. He was an honest man, who was honestly fooled by his far more devious relations. Phoenix would never have been able to manipulate him as he had if that was not the case.

“And do you believe that Wright killed your daughter?”

“I do not,” Friedrich repeated, his grave expression tightening. “He would have been living in the United States at the time. I do not believe that he would have gone out of his way to destroy the lives of a branch family he had no knowledge of or previous interaction with.”

Satisfied for his purposes, Miles said, “Thank you, Herr von Karma. You’ve been very helpful.” When he sat back down, Blackquill shot his ‘Shochou’ a flabbergasted look. Edgeworth smirked at him, “Are you bored now, Simon?”

“Will you cross-examine?” the Judge asked, oblivious to the play in front of him.

“...Yes, Your Honor.”

With what? Lana had to wonder, as the felon stood up to do just so.

At once the air seemed to shift, as Blackquill’s demeanor changed. He became jovial, warm and entreating. Like someone you would want to have drinks with after work. It was almost... hypnotizing...

“First of all,” Blackquill spoke to the German patriarch, “I would like to express my condolences for the death of your loved ones.”

If this affected Friedrich, he didn’t express it beyond a curt nod.

“It must be difficult to have no resolution to your own daughter’s death for so long. Now your dear niece, whom I understand has been supported by you for decades, won’t have justice for her death either.”

“Is there a question coming?” the older attorney demanded gruffly, not quite so easily swayed.

Blackquill tapped his fingers along the edge of the railing in front of him, debating how to tackle this next. It was glaringly obvious he wasn’t going to be able to ask anything about Niko and his own involvement in any of the murders. So instead, he said, “Mr. von Karma, I have to admit, I’m a bit confused about why you would think Phoenix Wright was your adopted heir in the first place. Sure, they look a bit similar...” Barely, if anyone were to compare them side by side. “... but I understand that Phoenix von Karma had been living with you since childhood. Surely, you should have realized they were not the same man.”

At this, Friedrich finally grew visibly uncomfortable. “That... would be Josie’s doing,” he admitted, “When my daughter-” He very suddenly deliberately stopped himself, instantly self-correcting under his unusual restrictions. “Let’s just say there was reason for me to believe that he had died. When Josie appeared with Mr. Wright many months later, much changed and amnesiac, she explained that he had been in a traumatic event. That he needed to undergo surgery from all his wounds and that was why he appeared different. I was... fooled. I was an absolute fool,” he muttered darkly, gripping the edge of the witness stand. “I criticized my brother so many times for being too bereft of emotion. Now look where it had gotten me.”

Lana glanced over to Phoenix, who had gone so very still. This had truly exonerated him of all guilt of knowingly committing fraud. However, she doubted that was at the forefront of his thoughts.

“I think most wouldn’t criticize you for grieving for the loss of your children,” Blackquill said, all platitudes and kindness. Whether it was genuine or part of his emotional manipulation, Lana couldn’t say. Yet it was amazing to watch the subtle Suggestion at work. After a beat, Blackquill continued, “So you would say that Josephine had the intellectual and emotional wherewithal to pull this sort of scam with her own family. Do you think that she did it before?”

“At this point, I truly do not know what she was capable of,” Friedrich answered tiredly. “It is... possible.”

“In your experience as a high-profile prosecutor, if someone had pulled this sort of thing with their family, would they have taken revenge for their crimes?”

At this, legal instinct submerged the emotional fugue Blackquill had lulled him into. His gaze hardened, seeming to clear into painfully sharp intensity. “That is a leading and prejudicial question, sir. It has no relevance to this case.”

Blackquill was forced to take a different tack again, “From third-party observance, how would you characterize Josie’s relationship with Niko?”

“They were close.”

Apparently, the time of willingly giving out details was over. “Did you see any noticeable difference between her relationship with Phoenix Wright and her relationship with the defendant?” Blackquill pressed.

“Josie was harder on Herr Wright than she ever was on Niko.”

“Because Niko was already more conditioned than Wright?”

Friedrich’s temper flared, his eyes growing wide with outrage. “For what reason would Josephine have to condition either of my children?”

It was a slip. One that Blackquill immediately seized. “Either? What do you mean either of them? Are you saying that something illicit happened between the victim and both the defendant and Benedikta von Karma? Your dead daughter?”

“Do not put words in my mouth!”

“The dead daughter that turned up dead, right when your defendant went missing?” Blackquill pushed, raising his voice in heated crescendo. “Just what did Josephine do to them, von Karma? How did she damage the children you were responsible for? What was it that you always suspected happened, Friedrich? What did you hide? Who are you protecting!”

“I-!” the huge man bellowed, pounding his hands violently against the witness stand. There was a moment there, a microsecond, when Lana was sure that he would give it up. Then Friedrich wilted, the mighty man seeming to crumble right in front of their eyes. “I cannot say,” he hissed, his fingers squeezing the lip of the witness stand. He looked utterly defeated, a broken man.

“Alright, that is quite enough,” the Judge said, pounding his gavel to bring this to a close. “I’m shutting this down. Thank you for your testimony, Mr. von Karma.”

Frustrated, Blackquill slammed a fist against his podium before he slumped down into his seat. “I was so close!” he hissed, his fingers clawing against the striped fabric over his knees.

Letting out a shuddering breath, Edgeworth considered their options. Lana knew this wasn’t going to be enough. Sure, the pair would likely be let go with a Not Guilty, but they didn’t have anything to pin down Niko yet. If they didn’t get him now, who knew when he’d resurface again. When Miles shared a look with Phoenix, it was with a heavy unspoken agreement. With that, Miles looked wearily over his shoulder at Pearl Fey. 

Picking up on the cue, Pearl bolted to her feet and went out into the hallway. She returned shortly with Maya in tow. Neither of their faces indicated any luck with the summoning. Nonetheless, Maya found herself at the witness stand.

“And who on earth is this now?” Niko snorted, looking over the strangely dressed mystic.

“This is Maya Fey. She is the leader of the Village of Kurain. She is a spirit medium.” Edgeworth explained, gesturing at his witness. After a long, pained moment, he elaborated, “....she will attempt to summon the spirit of Benedikta von Karma to contribute to the trial.”

At the Chief Prosecutor’s strained explanation, Niko couldn’t help but laugh incredulously. “Mein Gott! You truly are desperate! This is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard!”

“Oh hey now,” Judge Baldy interjected in a jovial defensive that was unique to his style, “I know this young lady very well! She’s done some incredible things in here. It’s always entertaining. Go on, Ms. Fey. Do whatever it is you do.”

“Thank you, Your Honor,” Maya said with a smile, though in this instance, she hardly looked relieved she was being called on for testimony. Taking a breath to ready herself, she focused on her sacred hand gestures, flipping gracefully between them with practiced ease, in time with the soft mantra that would draw forth the spirit to her and back into the land of the living.

After a few minutes of intense chanting... absolutely nothing happened. Edgeworth looked utterly mortified, resigned, and not altogether surprised. And Phoenix... he looked stricken, guilt-ridden and confused as he watched Maya look as though she would break into tears any minute...

~o~

Phoenix von Karma let out a jarring laugh that made everyone cringe, not in the least of all Phoenix Wright. The Judge looked on Maya in confusion, blinking his eyes rapidly. “It didn’t work? Wow, that is kind of a letdown.” To Edgeworth he asked, “Well, I don’t suppose there’s any other dead folks you want to try instead?”

“Your Honor...” Miles said, utterly pained. “No, I do not.”

“Oh,” the Judge blinked again. “Well, do you have anything else? Any other evidence to show?”

“We’ve only just found the real Phoenix von Karma as our main suspect in an alternate theory to the crime,” the chief prosecutor tried to reason. “If we could just recess for a few days, just so that we could compare the new evidence-”

“If you think that my client would agree to such a thing, you would be woefully mistaken. This courtroom has turned into an absolute sham of a trial. The prosecution is not even bothering to prosecute the actual defendants,” Friedrich von Karma spoke in his gravely superior fashion. Yet he didn’t have nearly the level of conviction that Phoenix usually saw in his trials. This was a tired, sad, old man.

“I’m afraid I have to agree,” the Judge said sternly. “From what I’ve heard, you’ve got speculation at best and nothing to show for it. Considering the absolutely backwards way this new suspect was brought to trial, the best I can do is dismiss the case without prejudice. And you should be grateful I’m doing that much!”

“I... yes, Your Honor...” Edgeworth forced himself to say.

Phoenix sank behind the Defense, unable to believe that this was really the end. They had nothing else to throw at this man. And it was all his fault. In his haste to draw the real culprit out into the open, he’d caught them all unprepared. Now Niko was just going to slip out of their grasp again, as he had for years without a single trace. On the hook for not just one, but two murders.

His eyes went to Maya, who looked so defeated at being unable to help at such a critical juncture. To Edgeworth, who truly looked as if this were his lowest moment in life. To Friedrich, who hid his grief and anguish behind a mask of cold stoicism. To Niko, who only smiled smugly at how well this was all going his way, knowing he was going to get away with it. To Franziska, who was repressing her own well of emotion at listening to her murdered sister’s sordid history to no avail. 

Wait... wait a minute. Phoenix looked to the last three. There had been a clue sitting in front of him this entire time. Something niggling at the back of his mind that something wasn’t right. But now with these three in front of him.

The childhood pictures... they just... stopped.

Suddenly, in one horrifying moment of clarity, it clicked.

“OBJECTION!” Phoenix cried, leaping to his feet before Maya could leave the stand. “Defense would like to call a new witness!” Everyone froze where they were, as he ran up to the witness stand. He took out the locket of Benedikta on his person, pushing it into her hands. He whispered softly into her ear, so that no one else could hear. Her eyes widened in shock, but she nodded.

“One last time,” Phoenix said as he jogged back to his side of the courtroom. He grinned at Miles’ absolutely dubious look. “She’s going to get it this time, I promise.”

Once again, Maya went through the channeling ritual. Immediately, the air felt different. Instead of the stagnant air conditioned atmosphere, it grew charged with energy. A mysterious wind whirled around the spirit medium’s clothes and with a flash of light, she was suddenly changed. Beautiful, angular features, long luxurious brown hair, warm eyes and soft smile. Benedikta von Karma in the flesh, so to speak.

Eyes bulged, a raucous clamour sounding from the courtroom. Friedrich was so taken aback that he lost his strength and fell back into his chair. Edgeworth blinked, though he had seen this particular trick before. Blackquill, on the other hand, twitched, not quite believing what he was seeing.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Phoenix declared proudly, waving a hand at his brand new witness, “I would like to introduce you to the real Phoenix von Karma.”

Chapter Text

To say that the courtroom was shocked was something of an understatement. Edgeworth finally seemed to lose all his footing and fell back in shock into his seat. Jaws dropped even further, and a clamour came up out of the courtroom at this latest turn of events. Only Niko seemed unsurprised, his face drawn into a vicious snarl as though he were about to attack.

“Wh-wh- whaaaat?!” Judge Baldy cried, utterly confused, his eyes bulging. ‘Wait a minute! There’s a third one now?!”

Phoenix shook his head, remaining standing. “No, your Honor. Benedikta had been Phoenix all along. I realized it when I looked at the family resemblance. Niko has Friedrich’s black hair. He also happens to look incredibly similar to his first cousin Franziska. Someone supposedly so far removed this branch of the family shouldn’t resemble them so much. Your Honor,” he waved an arm towards their suspect, “this is Benedikta von Karma.”

“You-! You have no proof of that!” Niko- or Benedikta- proclaimed. Now that one looked at him, or her rather, he looked far too young for a man his age. Too slight, too round of face. Forget looking like Franziska’s brother. They could have been twins.

On the witness stand, Benedikta, or Phoenix, or whatever they were called, took out an ornate fan and began to primly fan him-herself. “Niko,” he-she said, now that they seemed to have gotten their bearings, “give it up. I don’t know what’s going on, but your secret is out.”

“Er, no offense, but how do we address you?” Phoenix asked, profoundly affected by the surrealism of this.

“Beni is fine,” they replied with a smile. “And I’ve been a girl all my life. No need to stop now.” She looked past him, to the man who loomed over the Defense, finally catching sight of her supposed father. “Papa! Du bist hier! Du siehst unwohl aus. Was ist los, Papa?”

“Nenn ihn nicht so!” Niko snarled at her, threatening to launch forward at the witness. Friedrich had to physically restrain him, keeping a strong arm around Niko’s slight body while the suspect shrilled threats in German. It took a full five minutes to get Niko to calm down. Even then, he was restrained even further as he was physically chained by his wrists and ankles.

“D-did you know about this?” Edgeworth demanded of Friedrich, finally getting his bearings once the shock had worn off. However, the man still said nothing. Supposedly, this was still covered underneath privilege. He absently dusted off his lapels as he stood to address his brand new star witness. “Well, welcome Fräulein von Karma. I should let you know that you have been called her as a material witness in a case involving the murder of Josephine von Karma.”

A delicate gasp escaped Beni. “Kusine Josie? Oh how dreadful! She was such a wonderful person! Who would want to do such a thing to her!”

“I am hoping that you can help enlighten us about that,” Edgeworth replied, giving a significant look over at their frothing suspect. “First, are you aware of any motive that Niko would have to do any harm to your cousin?”

“Hmmm~” Beni mused, fluttering her fan. “Well~ Not particularly, if I’m being honest. Recently, Niko had far more problems with Papa than he ever had with Kusine Josie.”

There was something strangely unsettling about her demeanor. She acted far too cute. Too innocent. With a jarring revelation, Phoenix realized that she reminded him of Dahlia. It was a bitter reminder that not all ghosts were necessarily reliable.

“And what were those problems, Fräulein von Karma?” Miles asked, with a smooth charm that was making Phoenix twitch just a little. 

“Oh~ The usual. The pressure was getting to him, you see. I don’t know if you know, but our Familie has very exacting standards.”

Phoenix just barely held in a laugh. Beni clearly didn’t know her audience. Edgeworth would know that better than anyone. However, he still kept smiling and pandering to his lovely new witness. “How did Niko act out?”

“He didn’t, really,” Beni replied with another flutter of her fan. “He just grew more erratic and unhinged as time passed. Push his buttons and he’d start cracking.” All eyes involuntarily went over to the defendant, who was currently bodily restrained into his seat.

“Is that what you did?” Miles asked, still giving her his charming smile, as though he were in on a private joke. “Push his buttons?”

Beni let out a tiny giggle. Then suddenly snapped her fan closed and presented the chief prosecutor with a smile of thinly veiled malice. “That is none of your business.”

Phoenix and Miles both blinked at that. Well. Guess they had a hostile witness on their hands. “Fräulein,” Edgeworth said, getting to the crux of the matter, “did Niko kill you?”

The fan was out again, fluttering softly as Beni considered her answer. Finally, she said, “I don’t remember.”

“You... what?!” Miles choked. Appalled, he cried, “What kind of murder victim doesn’t remember their murder?!”

“Talk to a lot of murder victims, do you?” Beni asked wryly, amused.

That certainly put the prosecutor at a loss for words.

Phoenix coughed lightly. “Magatama,” he air-whispered to the other side. This was a clear cut case of a witness holding back, if there ever was one. Nodding, Miles took the small charm out. He seemed to decide something for himself, before simply tossing the charm at Phoenix. Almost as if he were passing the baton.

Phoenix couldn’t help but grin a little. Oh, he knew how to use this very well.

His hand slammed on the podium. “Beni, did you somehow provoke Niko?” he demanded and watched with satisfaction as several Psyche-locks came into being. Beni looked askance. Which was a sure sign of guilt. He just needed to keep pressing. “Yes. Yes, you did, didn’t you?” Phoenix surmised with the insight the magatama and pure instinct told him.

A Psyche-lock shattered.

“You know perfectly well how you died, but you don’t want to reveal your crime.” Her eyes flicked to her relations, to Niko... and Friedrich.

(Shatter.)

Oh... I see it now. I should have known. It wouldn’t have only been Niko who felt the pressure. Beni had to be perfect too. The perfect daughter.

Phoenix’s expression grew fierce with determination, but kept his voice level and sympathetic. He had the edge here. He knew where they were coming from. “Kusine Beni, you look very worried. You did something shameful, didn’t you?” 

(Rattle.) “Something you don’t want your Papa to know?” (Shatter.) 

“Es ist in Ordnung, Beni,” Phoenix spoke gently, even as he felt his interrogation coming to a crescendo. “I think he already knows about it now. If he doesn’t understand, then I will. I know what it’s like there. You can tell me. What did you do to Niko to enrage him like this?”

The spirit pouted, as if personally affronted. “You make it sound so devious~! I did nothing to him. Why would I?”

“You liar,” a guttural growl reverberated from the gallery. Niko glared at the undead witness, his eyes spelling violence. “You whore! You know exactly what you did!”

“Niko, stop,” Friedrich hissed beside him, grasping his child’s arm tightly to try to rein him back in. However, Niko was simply having none of it.

“NEIN! Ich lehne ab! I’m done with listening to you!” Niko snarled, ripping his appendage from the older attorney. With ungainly balance, he pushed himself up to his feet, pointing an accusing finger with his shackled hands at the witness in front of him. “This one-! She had it so easy. All she had to do was play my fiancée! That was literally all she was meant to do! It was the only reason why Onkel- why MY father had adopted her! She was supposed to be my supporter. My ally.” A sharp shudder went through him, the memory almost physically painful to extricate. “I broke myself to fulfill my father’s footsteps. Josie, she- she broke me.” Tears filled Niko’s eyes, though his, no her words, were still rough and forceful. “All I needed was for Beni to be broken with me. But no! This- this backstabbing bitch,” she snarled in Beni’s direction, “was sleeping around while I worked myself to the bone, being something that I wasn’t! Not even know what was wrong with me. And she- and HE just-”

Niko turned to Friedrich, her eyes full of pleading and of vindication. “Papa, I found her. Your perfect, precious Beni. She was sleeping in your bed with complete strangers. With women.”

“Niko, bitte- Stop,” Friedrich begged, though he made no move to physically restrain his daughter.

“She was still dressed up as a woman,” Niko spoke, her words becoming more manic and twisted. At this point, it was unclear if she was even addressing the court, “Isn’t that just sick? The utter deviancy of her. I had no choice, Onkel,” she spoke, her eyes glazed as she turned a vacant look up to Friedrich. She smiled crookedly. “We couldn’t have her stain the family name. After all, I never took a man, Papa. I never did. Your heir wouldn’t do something so sick, would he? Your heir had to be perfect. Had to be- Had to be- Had to be-”

A quiet settled over the court as Niko dissolved into a gibbering mess. Friedrich took her into his arms, wrapping his arms tightly about her frail form.

“Wretched creature, isn’t she?” Beni sniffed dismissively, breaking the silence as she casually fluttered her fan. “It wasn’t my fault she couldn’t hack it.”

Phoenix turned to stare at the woman over his shoulder. Murder victim or not, her sheer callousness made his stomach churn. He couldn’t believe that he ever imagined that this figment in his locket would ever be like Iris.

“So, I take it that this was Josephine’s work as well?” Miles asked, waving a hand towards the wreckage of humanity in the gallery.

“Naturally,” Beni replied, bemused. “As if it would be anyone else’s. She was just so grateful to Papa for all that he did for her. All he wanted was a male heir. She decided to fulfill his wish.” A long-suffering sigh escaped her. “It’s just all so tragically cliché , isn’t it?”

“...I have what I need from this witness,” Phoenix said at last. He felt bone-tired and just a little sick. “Thank you for your testimony... Phoenix von Karma.”

“Ta-ta~” Beni cooed, giving him a wave and a wink, before she disappeared in a flash of light. Leaving an exhausted Maya in her wake. Phoenix managed to catch her just before she slumped towards the ground.

“D-did... did I do okay?” she asked tiredly, looking up at him through her half-lidded eyes.

“You did perfect,” Phoenix reported with a genuine smile.

“Oh good,” she breathed, relaxing. “I can’t wait to train in Khura’in. This is going to have to get easier one day.”

~o~

Eventually, the chaos settled. Everyone returned to their seats, including Maya Fey to rest up. Niko had sunken out of her breakdown into this sullen, broken shell of herself. Miles stood up, feeling none too ecstatic for what he was about to do. “Your Honor, I would like to recall... Benedikta von Karma to the stand. To continue the cross-examination.”

“Is that really necessary?” the Judge replied, his sympathies clearly laying with the fragile, broken defendant.

“I will be careful,” Miles promised sincerely, holding up his hands in placation. “We just need to lay the facts bare.”

Forcing herself up, Niko brought herself to the witness stand, a mere shade of her former self.

“How would you like me to address you?” Miles asked gently.

“Niko,” the curt reply.

“Very well Niko.” Miles leaned forward, “I am only interested in the crime committed in my jurisdiction.” In his house, no less. “Did you kill Josephine von Karma?”

“What do you think?” Niko demanded belligerently.

“Niko, please, your own words.”

The fire dimmed again, her eyes growing dull. “Yes, I killed her. When I had... faked my death, I fled to the United States. To Phoenix, to see if I could find my parents - his parents. They didn’t recognize me... of course. It was too painful to stay there, so I went to LA instead. I just... saw her by chance. I thought she was going to take me back. So I did what I had to do. I followed her to a house, watched her break in. Figured it was the perfect opportunity. I took a knife from the kitchen and... well. ” She smiled, all her chilling murderous hatred packed into such a small word.

Suddenly, Niko let out a brittle laugh. “I didn’t even know about you until it hit the newspapers,” she said, pointing a finger at Wright. “I probably should have left it alone, but I figured you would be the perfect scapegoat. So I decided to sick Onkel Friedrich on you. Told him what you- what I did to Beni all those years ago. I knew he’d come running.” Her fact twisted, growing dark, “Then you come here. Dressed like that. Proclaiming that. And he was just going to- to-” She slammed her fist down, letting out a sound between a snarl and a sob.

Regarding her, Miles turned his attention back to the Judge. “Your Honor, the Defense rests its case. We also humbly request leniency for Benedikta von Karma. She is clearly in need of psychiatric help. I recommend that she be given to the mercy of the State.”

“So ordered,” the Judge agreed, pounding the gavel against his podium. With that pronouncement, correctional officers came to take Niko away for processing. Miles dearly hoped that the von Karma would get the help that she needed... and that none of them would see hide or hair of her again.

“With that...” Judge Baldy said, bringing all the attention back to him. “I will declare my verdict.” Though it was obvious what his answer would be, the courtroom held its breath for a tense moment nonetheless. Perhaps it was one of the few pleasures the Judge enjoyed.

“Not Guilty.”

There was no fanfare this time. Celebrations decidedly muted, their support group crowding around the visibly relieved defendants in congratulations. Miles only let himself enjoy the moment a little, though a slip of a smile escaped him as he relished watching the heaviness finally lift from Phoenix’s shoulders. At last, he was free.

Stiffly, Friedrich von Karma stood from his seat, making his way to the back of the court where a gaggle of media no doubt awaited. He didn’t look in the direction of the Defense. His shoulders slumped, posture crumbled. Miles doubted that the man would ever be able to recover from this. Nevertheless... “Herr von Karma,” he called out to the man. When Friedrich turned his aged eyes his direction, he said, “Expect to be served in the morning.”

Phoenix sent him a look, hopeless bleeding heart that he was. “What?” Miles demanded defensively. “He’s still culpable for all this. I’m not going to just let it go.”

With an exasperated sigh, Wright rolled his eyes and decided that it wasn’t worth arguing over at the moment. Right now, they were all exhausted from the emotional rollercoaster of a day. No one felt like celebrating extensively, deciding that they would postpone Phoenix’s exoneration party for another day. Instead, they went their separate ways, departing to their respective homes.

~o~

August 7
Edgeworth Residence
9:53 PM

Signs of the police disruption were still abound when Miles and Phoenix arrived back at the prosecutor’s house. Everything was just a little bit out of place, knocked about, or outright wrong. Such as the staging area for their numerous upcoming legal battles, aka the dining room table. The documents were all returned at least, laid out in sloppy stacks at the end of the long wooden table and a couple chairs. However, a familiar little figure greeted them at the door, lighting their moods after the especially long day.

“Pess!” Edgeworth cried, picking up his darling puppy and doting on her with cuddles and kisses. As soon as he noticed Phoenix watching, he coughed with embarrassment and passed the wriggling pup over. “Here, I’m sure she missed you.”

Phoenix was going to have to figure out a way to get Miles to open up his more vulnerable, adorable side to him. That was a project for another day. Instead, he took Pess and loved on her with all the luvvy-duvvyness that he could manage.

“Will you be taking the couch again?” Miles called, having made his way into the kitchen. Phoenix blinked at that. The couch? Why would he- Oh... Right. He was still sleeping on the couch last time they were here. Wrangling the excitable pup in his arms, he said as casually as he could manage, “Oh... I don’t know. I kind of like the sleeping arrangements we had when I first came here.”

Ceramic abruptly clattered. A moment later, Miles’ anxious voice called, “O-oh. I see.”

Raising an eyebrow, Phoenix let Pess down and decided to go into the kitchen himself to see what was what. He found the prosecutor busily messing with teabags and cups, oddly flustered. “Um, Miles? You do realize that earlier today we actually-”

“Yes, I know what we did,” the prosecutor said in a rush of breath, his cheeks flushed with heat. He looked awkwardly away from Phoenix’s direction, still absently tasked with preparing them two cups of tea. “Are you... proposing a more permanent engagement to our state of affairs?”

Phoenix couldn’t think of a more legalese way of asking him if he wanted to move in. “I would be amenable to that,” he teased, smirking as he took one of the cups. “Do you want that?” he asked more seriously.

Miles still didn’t look at him. His fingers tensed around his own cup, his gaze fixed on the rising steam. Phoenix began to worry for the long moment he didn’t speak, when he finally said, “I don’t want you to feel rushed into anything. I don’t want to trap you. This- everything- I do not know how you could handle the emotional complications that a relationship would bring. You should be focusing on your own-”

As he looked up, Phoenix leaned in to kiss him, shutting up his arguments. Miles needed to do that sometimes. He smiled as he pulled back, running a hand along Miles’ forearm and enjoying watching the other man shudder. “I can handle it, Miles,” Phoenix assured him, “because it’s you. I’m better with you. Because of you.”

The other man still looked uncertain, so Phoenix leaned in again, pressing another kiss against the corner of his lips. Then another along his jaw and neck. “You’re allowed to love me, you know,” he breathed into the shell of the ear, right before he sucked on the tender earlobe. At that, Miles melted underneath him, either in response to the words or to the touches. He began to return the affection in full with the delicious, barely restrained hunger that so charged their liaisons. Phoenix pushed him down to the couch that had been his bed for so many nights, both of them shrugging out of their clothes until skin met hot skin. In a far less fraught encounter than earlier that day, they moved slowly, letting heat, friction, and desire guide their motions into an escalating climax. It was to the sweetest words that Phoenix finally found his release:

“I love you, Phoenix. Always.”

Chapter Text

Epilogue

~o~

A bevy of celebrations followed what became known in the media as the Kracked-Karma trial. (A name that was chosen in extremely poor taste, but there was no accounting for tabloid sensationalism.)

First, for Phoenix’s exoneration.

Second, when his death certificate was finally revoked.

Third, when he was officially reinstated to California Bar.

Fourth, when Miles and Phoenix came out as an ‘official’ couple, to absolutely no one’s surprise. It wouldn’t have actually warranted a party, if Larry hadn’t insisted. Truth be told, they wouldn’t have ‘come out’ at all if Miles had anything to do with it.

As things began to settle, Miles’ fear that Phoenix would become emotionally codependent upon him dimmed. If anything, the chief prosecutor was the one who needed emotional reassurance every time Phoenix flew out to Germany to aid the police with their criminal investigation. And when he went to visit and check on Niko at the posh asylum she was situated in. And when he decided to make peace with Friedrich von Karma, as the pair came to an uneasy understanding. And when Phoenix randomly turned up with a random law student he found in Germany on one trip and declared her his new protégée.

Meanwhile, while he wasn’t exactly working as a prosecutor, Phoenix was prosecutor-adjacent. Not needing to work for money thanks to the substantial settlements that came from the von Karma family, Phoenix seemed to settle on the role of ‘consultant’, drifting in and out of Miles’ workplace to take on whatever case took his fancy. Sometimes on the side of the defendant .

Miles gave up on trying to pin the man down. Phoenix Wright was simply going to do what he wanted to do. Besides, he supposed that it was just as well that Phoenix wasn’t actually his subordinate in reality.

In the bedroom... well. Ahem.

What really took the cake took place nearly a year later. When Phoenix marched him to some mysterious location in town, and then surprised him with a brand new sign etched over a glass doorway. 

WRIGHT ANYTHING AGENCY

Miles gaped at it in horror. “Wha-” he floundered, trying to find the words. “Wright! What the hell is this?!” he demanded, rounding on his lover. “You have a law office now?!”

Cheerfully, Phoenix held up a finger, “Noooot really a law office. Kind of a law office.” At Miles’ look he amended, “Okay fine, it’s a law office. But I can handle it this time, don’t worry! C’mon, take a look.” The prosecutor was unwillingly shuffled into the space, where he found Phoenix’s newest associate, Athena Cykes, hard at work unpacking.

“Hiya boss! Good morning Mr. Edgeworth!” the young redhaired lady declared, immediately making herself scarce.

Miles stood in the empty space, unhappily taking in the vastness of it. He didn’t even want to think about how much of Wright’s settlement money this took to set up. “It’s going to be criminal law, then?” he asked dryly, not at all liking the idea of all the conflicts of interest that were now going to arise at his office.

Wright at least had the grace to look abashed. “Well... it is my specialty,” he replied sheepishly. At Miles’ glare, he took his hands, giving him a nearly pleading look. “Oh c’mon, Miles. You see the way that the Law is now. It’s totally stilted now. Ever since you’ve taken over, prosecution’s become sexy again.” Miles snorted at the utterly transparent flattery. “The other side needs a boost. You know I’m the right man for the job.”

Miles looked Phoenix over. His dear, sweet, insufferable, infuriating Phoenix Wright. The only man who had ever been any kind of match for him. The man who had weathered the trial of a lifetime and managed to come through relatively unscathed. The lawyer who had found his own two feet again and was striding towards a future that, while he might not enthusiastically agree with, he would always give his respect and support.

Eventually, Miles released a sigh. “It looks nice,” he said, knowing the meaningless platitude would mean the world to the other man. Phoenix gave a cheer, happily taking Miles’ hand to drag him hither and tither to show off all the little details he was proud of. Now that he had a moment to mull the details over, this new shift in reality, Miles supposed that he could see Wright’s point. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but he had the sensation for quite some time now that something was fundamentally wrong with the state of the Law.

Did Phoenix somehow sense that too subconsciously? Was that what spurred this move?

His footsteps slowed, his stationary form tugging Phoenix’s attention back to him. “Wright,” he spoke, using the name that indicated he was all business. Wright responded in kind, his expression turning serious as he turned his full attention to his lover. “...We need to talk about Simon Blackquill.”