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There are exactly three people in the world who Phoenix Wright, no longer attorney at law, will answer his phone for at absolutely any hour of the day or night, no questions asked. The first is, of course, his recently acquired small daughter. Given that Trucy is literally eight, and that Phoenix does not want her out late at night without at least one trustworthy adult around and a way to contact him, a cell phone had been a necessary compromise (and one he had thankfully been able to mooch off Edgeworth for, not that he really wanted to, but... desperate times call for desperate measures.)
The second is his sister in all but name, Maya Fey. He's not a lawyer anymore, but he does still at least know of a few good ones to recommend to her when she inevitably gets herself into legal trouble all over again. Kristoph Gavin is not among those defense attorneys he would recommend, for reasons that are obvious to about four people total, and Maya is one of them.
The third is, of course, his oldest, dearest friend: Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth. Who is, for some unfathomable reason, calling him at four in the morning. Phoenix sighs. He's still going to pick it up, of course, how could he not?
He just... closes Trucy's bedroom door gently first. Then he hits the button to accept and greets, "Hey, Edgeworth. Random question, what time is it where you are?"
"One in the afternoon, why..." Edgeworth trails off. Phoenix figures he's probably doing the mental math in his head. "Ah. My apologies, Wright. If you're busy—"
"Where you're involved? Nah. Never." Phoenix grins, and sinks down into the old couch he'd inherited from Mia (along with the office itself, and countless law books he'd never gotten around to reading and may never at all, now.) "What's up?"
"I, ah... have been talking with Ms. Fey lately."
"Maya? She's not in any kind of legal trouble, is she?"
"No! No, not... nothing like that, don't worry."
"Well, when you say something as ominously as that, I kind of have to worry," Phoenix jokes. "So, you've been talking to Maya?"
"Yes... Ms. F—Maya, has also been making an effort to convince me to refer to her with her first name since we have started talking and discovered we have some... shared interests?"
Phoenix snorts. "Don't tell me you actually like that Steel Samurai show?"
He'd meant it as a joke, and yet Edgeworth's silence over the line is extremely telling. Phoenix sucks in a breath. "Ooookay then. Wait, were you actually telling Mr. Powers the truth back in—"
"Shut up," Edgeworth mutters, but there's very little, if any, bite in the words.
"Oh my god. I thought you were just trying to make yourself feel better about being a sore loser."
"I was not a sore loser—!"
"Edgeworth. You totally were, Mr. Thanks To You, I Am Plagued With Unnecessary Feelings."
There is a distinct and very, very long-suffering sigh. "I will never escape that, will I?"
"Nope. So... why did you call me? I'm guessing it probably wasn't so I could laugh about your life choices."
"Hardly. It.... it is..." He clears his throat. "It suddenly feels much hotter in here."
"Sure? I wouldn't know. I'm across an ocean. And an entire continent."
"That you are... Wright. It has... recently been brought to my attention that after my... abrupt departure, following the resolution of State v. Skye, you and a not insignificant amount of others genuinely believed me to be... deceased."
"Oh." Phoenix is suddenly very, very glad that he's already sitting down. "We're having this conversation tonight, huh. This... really isn't a conversation that we should be having at four in the morning."
"I-I apologize. I can call back at a time that is more convenient for—"
"No," Phoenix snaps. He sighs. "No. If we don't have it now, who knows when it'll come up again? No, it... has to be now."
"Very well, then." Edgeworth pauses. "I... did not realize, at the time, what an effect that had upon you. I was under the impression that you and others referencing my supposed death were merely attempting to make rather insensitive jokes, and not that you... genuinely believed that. For that, I am deeply sorry."
Phoenix closes his eyes. He sets his phone down on the couch for a long moment and takes a deep, shuddering breath. Then, he opens his eyes, retrieves his phone, and says, "With all due respect, Edgeworth, how did you think people were going to interpret that if not as a damn suicide note?"
"I... I will be frank, with you. You deserve that much. It was, originally, intended as a suicide note."
And Phoenix freezes. "W-What?"
Edgeworth's voice is quieter when he repeats, "It was originally intended as a suicide note. I left it in my office, drove out to the middle of the desert, and..." He trails off. "I suppose I was lucky, in my failure there. By then, I had realized that I... did not want to disappear forever, necessarily, simply for a little while. I managed to convince myself on some level that I had not meant it as a genuine suicide note, but as something more metaphorical, and... it did not occur to me until very recently that convincing myself did not mean convincing others."
"Oh," Phoenix says, because what the hell else is he supposed to say to his best friend confessing at four in the morning that he'd genuinely tried to kill himself? He swallows nervously, and tries again. "Edgeworth, you're really stupid sometimes, you know that?"
Then he winces, hard, because that was absolutely not the right thing to say. Yet maybe it was, on some unfathomable level, because Edgeworth actually laughs. "I do indeed, but it's nice to know that you're still in there, Wright."
"Ha, ha, very funny. You..." Phoenix searches, desperately, for the right (maybe even Wright, ha, Trucy is rubbing off on him) words. "No, yeah, I really did think you were dead for a while there. Everyone did. It... I'm not gonna lie, it fucked me up pretty badly."
"I know," Edgeworth says quietly.
"Listen, Edgeworth, I... I'm glad you're still here. I'm really glad you didn't succeed, okay?"
"As am I."
Phoenix can't tell if Edgeworth is agreeing with being glad that he himself is still here, or being glad that Phoenix is still here, or some mix of both. He isn't going to ask.
"I... should have figured it out long ago," Edgeworth murmurs. "It was... stupid of me. Exceptionally foolish, as Franziska would happily put it."
"Honestly? I'll take foolish over actively malicious," Phoenix admits. Left unspoken is who he is referring to in those words.
"Indeed. Still, I'm... sorry."
"Apology accepted," Phoenix says, because what other option is there? Honestly, he'd forgiven Edgeworth months ago, years ago. Finding out that he didn't even mean it the way it had come across only makes it easier to forgive him, if anything.
He... means a lot to him. He always will, even if it's for the best that he never knows the full extent of what he means to Phoenix.
"Wright?"
"Still here. Debating whether it's worth heading back to bed or not." Phoenix shrugs to himself. "I think I will, but... hey. While I've got you here, Truce misses you. When are you going to be back in the States next?"
I miss you , too, he doesn't say. I miss you so, so much. Yet what is a man if not a miserable little pile of repression and secrets?
"About that," Edgeworth says, and Phoenix's heart skips a beat. "Not for some time, I'm afraid, but I was wondering if, perhaps... you and Trucy might like to join me for a time in Germany?"
Phoenix's heart skips a beat for an entirely different reason, this time. "Run that by me again? I'm not sure I heard you right."
"You heard me correctly."
"Wow, uh. Okay. Good to know I'm not hallucinating at..." He glances at the clock. "Four-thirty in the morning."
Phoenix's instinct is to decline, for one reason or another, but... why should he? Any of the obvious reasons can be worked around without too much trouble. He can get time off from his job fairly easily, so long as he gives them at least a week or two's notice—and he probably could be gone for quite a while, given how good he's gotten at playing poker lately. They wouldn't be able to replace him easily.
Trucy... hmm, school might be an issue, but she's a smart girl. If he can't get her assignments ahead of time, she'll be able to catch up without too much trouble. Somehow, she manages to focus on the things he never could, and that? That will take her pretty damn far, in school and in life as a whole.
Kristoph might get suspicious... but honestly, anything he does at all could, in theory, make him suspicious. Existing makes him suspicious. Taking a short trip overseas... eh, if he has to he's sure he can come up with some reasonable explanation to pass muster.
He realizes, dimly, that Edgeworth is apologizing again. "Stop that," he says. "I'll have to check on some things, but... I think we could come, actually. Earliest would be in a couple weeks, if that's okay?"
"That is... more than okay," Edgeworth says. He sounds relieved. "Tell Trucy hello for me, will you?"
Phoenix smiles, again. He does that a lot when he's talking to Edgeworth. It isn't like he doesn't know, on some level, why that is. "Of course I will. And... hey, Edgeworth?"
"Yes?"
"Thank you for talking to me."
"It's the least I can do. Goodnight, Wright—go back to bed." On that note, Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth, master of social interaction, hangs up. He leaves Phoenix smiling down at his phone.
"Goodnight, Edgeworth," he whispers, even though it's the middle of the afternoon where Edgeworth is. And, impulsively—he raises his phone to his lips, and presses a tiny kiss to the receiver.