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“Wright!” Edgeworth calls as he strides into Phoenix’s office- and it’s fine because Phoenix gave him a key, and Maya had left her key with her letter before she’d taken her train back to Kurain but he didn’t, and he’s not posting them. But he gave Edgeworth a key so that he could walk into Phoenix’s office if he needed him and so that the guilty voice in his head that sounds like Mia doesn’t have a leg to stand on when it says he has a problem .
Except that Phoenix- well not forgotten, he’s not going to forget something like who can get into his office, but he’s not thinking of it at every moment- wasn’t expecting it. He wasn’t expecting anyone to visit his office so it’s still all- well, how he likes it. Not great for business, and Edgeworth is nothing if judgemental.
Whatever his old friend was going to say stops, Edgeworths’ voice trailing off, eyes going from the telephone on the desk under Phoenix’s fingers to his nervous strained smile, the same Phoenix gives in court when he’s saying something he isn’t sure is true but he doesn’t have the time to doubt. It works, sometimes. It’s the one where all his teeth are showing and his eyes crinkle from the strain. It’s a smile that Phoenix feels when he’s being stretched a little too far apart.
Edgeworth, looks as impeccably put together as always, one eyebrow arched- and of course the bastard can raise a singular eyebrow- and his customary finger tapping on his upper arm.
“I like what you’ve done with the place,” Edgeworth says dryly, eyes going from the sound insulation panel over the window blind and the phone muffled in several (washed!) socks. Phoenix can see the door is still open and it’s making something sweat and itch along his spine. He tongues his teeth, keeping a watch on it out of the corner of his eye as he decides that since Edgeworth is here already, fuck it. He lowers the telephone, cord and all, into the little box he keeps under his desk, eyeballs straining at the effort to keep watching the door, and seals it before wrapping up the box.
“ You’re paranoid, Phoenix ” Mia’s voice says in his head, it mingles with Maya’s, except he could probably get Maya to realise he was right if she were here. It’s not paranoia if they’re really out to get you after all. Her own sister had died because someone had bugged their office phones, and Maya herself was framed. Phoenix isn’t going to let that happen again.
Phoenix tongues his teeth once, twice- and thinks about it but doesn’t for a third time, more. Edgeworth still hasn’t shut the door, and is smirking at him with a deliberateness that suggests the other man knows what Phoenix wants and is refusing simply because.
“You’re letting the cold air in,” he says eventually, once he’s unstuck his shoulders from the sweat and the something pulling them together that is crawling over his spine and between his shoulder blades. It’s another moment, while he thinks Edgeworth is still staring at him but Phoenix isn’t sure, his eyes are busy, before the sound of the door shutting and the tension abates slightly. Conversely, something seems to draw itself and tighten across Edgeworth’s features.
“Edgeworth!” Phoenix calls, louder than usual and it’s okay that he used the man’s name. His phone is away, his door is shut, and if they’re listening then they have to already know that Edgeworth is Edgeworth.
Phoenix’ hands run over Edgeworth’s shoulders and down his sleeves, wrapping around his back for a hug and then breaking off when the man’s face tightens again, fingers probing slightly as they go.
There are still Edgeworth’s pockets, but otherwise it’s fine. And Phoenix knows what Edgeworth will say- no one else seems to quite understand and he doesn’t want to listen to that. So he bites his tongue, precisely, he counts the teeth he used. The back six he reckons. He tongues them again to check.
“Wright,” Edgeworth starts again, but it seems less pompous and more… not confused. Edgeworth doesn’t let himself be confused unless he’s willing to be vulnerable, and Phoenix isn’t quite ready to deal with whatever catastrophic event would lead to Edgeworth being vulnerable so soon.
But there’s something there, something that clearly wasn’t on the man’s mind before he came in.
“That’s me!” Phoenix agrees cheerily, trying to subtly pat his head and ensure his hair is still as spiky as he likes it. He thinks so, although they could definitely be stiffer. “What brings you to my humble office?”
He quickly scans the floor of his office once, twice, and then sits back down at his desk. One of Mia’s old law books, a carton of juice, and a whole mess of papers are in front of him. He tries to subtly move the juice aside.
“I came to talk to you about a case,” Edgeworth starts, but all Phoenix can do is nod absently because the sweaty itching has started up between his shoulders again. Screw it. He stands up abruptly.
“That’s nice,” his tongue says on autopilot, eyes still flickering around, he’s missed something, he’s sure of it. They’re listening right now. He doesn’t know how but he knows they are, maybe some device tracked in through the mud on a shoe, flicked out of a pocket. Maybe his computer is being secretly upgraded while he sleeps, maybe….
“I was about to get lunch,” It’s 2:30 pm and Phoenix ate forty-five minutes ago, he doesn’t think Edgeworth still knows that though, “Why don’t you join me? We can talk.” He tries not to stress talk too much, not verbally at least. His eyebrows twitch and Edgeworth raises one of his own in turn.
“I’ll buy,” Phoenix is told, “Now that Larry has finally paid back my lunch money.”
The way Edgeworth phrases it makes it seem like Phoenix had paid for Edgeworth’s lunch back at school, but after the trial he hadn’t had to.
A nasty suspicious part of his mind asks why - but he bites it down because this is Edgeworth, and if he wanted to sabotage Phoenix’s life there were easier ways to do it that weren’t so underhand.
“Sure,” Phoenix says instead, because his wallet won’t complain. “We can talk shop while we walk.”
(Phoenix is careful to loudly talk about other things- the weather in New York, Las Vegas, how it’s different. Maya is doing well. He doesn’t start to talk shop until they’re far away from his office. Edgeworth had left his coat behind, taken it off at some point after their hug and not put it back on as they left.
He has to be cold, Phoenix kind of wants to roll his eyes. He’d offer his own if he thought Edgeworth would appreciate it and he’s still half tempted just to see his expression.
Still, the itching has finally left his shoulder blades.)
Phoenix nods as Edgeworth explains how someone had come to him wanting his services. Edgeworth had turned them away, at least after meeting the defendant.
Something warm, like pride maybe, sparks in Phoenix’s chest.
“I think she’s innocent, we can’t be sure, but I almost am,” Edgeworth explains, rubbing his hands together, “But the case is otherwise open and shut. If she doesn’t get a good defence attorney she’s going to be judged guilty even if the prosecutor is wetter behind the ears than you .”
“Objection!” Phoenix well, objects,” You were wet around the ears once, and yet you had an unbroken streak,” he points out this fact instead of that Phoenix may still be “wet” but he’d beaten Edgeworth twice and managed to get the man off a murder charge while Edgeworth had done almost everything he could to get himself convicted.
He’ll let that slide because Edgeworth has just called him a good defence attorney and that means a lot coming from the guy who successfully defended them against his entire class in 3rd grade.
The only person it would mean more coming from would be Mia Fey, but she’s dead, and it’s not fair to Maya to ask her to channel her sister just to stroke Phoenix’s ego.
( Because they tapped her phone )
Because she’s dead.
It starts like this.
It’s been a few days. His mentor and close friend has died, and Phoenix has met her sister who can channel Mia, and then he finally sees his old friend in court again, like he’d wanted- but not like this. And then he’d had to stare at Edgeworth in the eyes while the man had tried his damnedest to get Phoenix sent down for murder.
The kid who had protested to save Phoenix’s skin when he’d been accused of stealing Edgeworth’s own lunch money, tells him he won’t go easy on him when prosecuting him for a murder he has to know Phoenix didn’t do.
Then again it’s been a long time, and Phoenix had never thought Edgeworth would turn into this, it had been why he’d wanted to talk to him.
Not that he’d really been able to, Edgeworth had swept past him at the end, and Phoenix can only think at least he’d looked healthy. Well, half the time, impeccable control and a smooth frontier that Phoenix has lost the skill to pick at.
Phoenix had also been punched in the face- arguably the most rest he’d got since turning up at Mia’s office that morning- and that had been the summary of the past few days.
So after burgers with Maya, and a feeling of almost comfort and ease- even as he’d nervously rubbed the spikes at the back of his hair- before he’d finally returned to his office.
Mia’s phone, the offending phone stares at him, the blood is still there, as are the shards of broken glass. All Phoenix can think about is how if the phone hadn’t been tapped then surely Mia would still have been alive because Bluecorp wouldn’t have known .
Phoenix feels his breath catch in his chest, building up behind his sternum as he keeps staring at the phone, scarcely daring to breathe, fingers knocking against thin air.
Is the phone still tapped? White might be behind bars, but companies are rarely one man- and besides, there are plenty of other unscrupulous people out there. Do they know every call he and Mia have made? How long had they been listening? Had Gumshoe used it at all?
His thoughts are buzzing, his temples becoming wet and warm. Are they listening to him right now? Has the phone been left on? His breathing chokes his throat as he tries to keep the air trapped so they can’t hear him.
The blood is still on the carpet, the glass still in tiny shards and-
Phoenix sweeps the phone off the desk and stamps on it hard , he keeps stomping until it’s smashed into tiny tiny pieces under his foot. He still feels shaky but he feels like he can breathe.
Then, he instantly regrets because how the hell is he meant to take any calls now? To keep Mia’s office and law firm running? What if Maya wants to talk to him? He has a phone at his apartment, and it’s fine because they hadn’t been after him, just Mia.
So it’s fine, it’s so fine, really.
Whatever, he gets out the office vacuum and sets to cleaning up the office, it’s so loud he can barely hear his own thoughts, and hearing the clink and clunk of plastic and electronics and glass being sucked away he finally feels something like peace.
He doesn’t replace their phone until after Edgeworth has told him he hopes they never see each other again, that Phoenix causes too many “unnecessary feelings” in him. Phoenix wants to push that. Throw in a ‘ are you just distracted by my handsome face ’ to be petty and twist everything up into knots, but he won’t. Not after Edgeworth threw his own case to help Phoenix, to help get actual justice and not the twisted parody he’d insisted he was seeking last time they’d met in court.
It’s not actually related to this in any way, it’s just how he thinks of it. It was after Edgeworth had asked if he was insane with such emphasis too.
Edgeworth was lucky they were in court because otherwise Phoenix would have said yes. He has it on good (Mia’s) authority that he is deranged , but he’s always willing to pull out the extra stops for Edgeworth. He just grins instead and feels more alive and less pressured than he has in a long time. In the court room he can finally breathe and maybe that’s odd.
It’s not entirely accurate about replacing the phone because he’d had the phone, he just hadn’t gotten around to plugging it in, that was all. Which was fine because Maya managed to find him a case so… well, yeah.
He sets up an email address and stresses that in writing is the best way to contact him. He swaddles the cradle of the telephone when he’s having a delicate conversation, or better still, shoves it in the drawer under his desk.
And it’s fine, sure, business is… slow. But Phoenix doesn’t think it’s that unreasonable to do a case once a month for a green newbie. Not that he's taken any offers in the two months that have passed. But maybe he's having a break.
He spends too much time out of the office getting to know Maya. And Phoenix means Maya, not desperately pretending she’s Mia. Because they’re very different and that’s- good? His opinion doesn’t really matter but he really likes Maya, she’s funny, has an appetite the size of a blackhole and tries to get him to watch awful TV shows, but it’s nice.
Phoenix has always been happy having a few friends, but… well he feels it sometimes. Especially when Larry is in the thick of his honeymoon stage with his new girlfriend and has little time for anything or anyone else.
He spends too much time out of the office, but there’s something oppressive and looming in there, its fingertips dancing across his back. Maybe he’s taking too many cases with blackmail, it’s not just listening devices and wire taps and bugs- but cameras. Still. The most embarrassing thing Phoenix does is still try to use hula-hoops as rings, or maybe thimbles because his fingers are too big now. He doesn’t see what blackmail anyone could take a photo of.
He’s careful with his tongue when he’s in his office, he runs his hand over every ledge, he drops his pen and kicks it under the sideboard and scrabbles to pick it up, fingers searching. But it’s fine, he’s just being thorough, it’s not like he really thinks Bluecorp is still listening. Because Redd White is in jail and apparently Bluecorp was folding. So it’s fine.
Except that Phoenix is the reason they folded after all… and businesses have subsidiaries and people in their debt and…
Phoenix just minds his words and keeps his phone in a box when there’s anybody in his office. To be free from distractions he says with an easy grin that he’s been told shows too many of his teeth by Maya.
It’s fine though, it’s manageable.
And then there’s a murder at Gourd Lake he and Maya hear about on the news, just when he was suggesting she dunk in the lake for her training.
The suspect, Gumshoe tells them, is Edgeworth.
Edgeworth wants to know if they’ve come to laugh at him, and then he wants to know why they’re there.
Phoenix thinks about throwing Edgeworth’s own words back at him, that he doesn’t owe him anything, that they knew each other 15 years ago and don’t think Phoenix will go easy on him and leave him to rot in the whole he’s dug. Self-sabotage is a tantalising drug.
But he doesn’t because Phoenix doesn’t like being mean, and he doesn’t like being angry. He doesn’t tell Maya, the guard in the corner, the camera in the other, watching with its angry red light that Phoenix can’t quite take his eyes away from.
Maya asks why she has to be angry for them both and Phoenix has done his being angry, and his being angry at Edgeworth years and years ago. He’s had it churn up his insides into a red bloody frothy foam, and now he prefers to let things go. He can get justice, or he can’t, but that’s not on other people that’s on him.
Anger requires a lot of energy, and Phoenix would rather invest that into other things.
He doesn’t tell Maya this and he tells Edgeworth the bare minimum he can to get the man to let him take his case, half a second from just forcing it. He will drag Edgeworth out of his tunnel of self destruction kicking and screaming if that’s what it takes.
He tries not to say too much, he believes with utter certainty that Edgeworth didn’t do it. That’s what Mia told him, don’t take the case if you’re not prepared to believe your client. But he thinks the timing is suspicious, Edgeworth throws a case for him, breaks his unbroken streak further with such sabotage, and then weeks later he’s a suspect in a murder that seems almost open and shut but can’t be .
His mind is shrieking conspiracy , his mind is shrieking that Edgeworth is being framed. By his boss? Does Edgeworth have a boss? Probably, then again Phoenix doesn’t have a boss at the moment and he’s wet behind the ears, like Edgeworth said.
He thinks Edgeworth probably has a boss though.
His mind is shrieking conspiracy and there’s a camera and a guard in this room and his phone could be being bugged as they speak.
Maybe he’s being paranoid… but Edgeworth isn’t giving him anything either and maybe Edgeworth knows .
When he finds the letter in Yanni Yogi’s house it’s vindication. Because Edgeworth is being set up, because he has proof, because it’s not paranoia if they’re really out to get you.
He’s cleared Edgeworth’s name and he wants to shake the man because he’s trying to throw himself straight back down his hole of misery and suffering. All Phoenix is saying is that Edgeworth is damn lucky they’re in court and that Phoenix prefers to leave his personal drama for somewhere less official.
Because, Phoenix can’t help but wonder if Edgeworth is confessing to being his father’s murderer out of justice, a desire to help Yogi, or simply to hurt himself.
Accidental murder is still murder but there’s a bullet hole in the glass of the elevator and Phoenix doesn’t think Edgeworth is a murderer at all.
The next moment they have alone Phoenix is going to try and shake so much sense into Edgeworth the man will barely know which way is up.
Except that Maya is there and Phoenix likes Maya and he wants Edgeworth to like Maya too so he doesn’t ask her to go away. But he’s willing enough to offer Edgeworth the kindness of bollocking him alone, or at least away from Maya and Larry, so he doesn’t.
They get burgers and he gives Edgeworth a key to the office. His spine doesn’t crawl at the thought of Edgeworth being able to walk in and that’s a good thing. He doesn’t give Larry a key because he doesn’t trust him enough to not give it to one of his girlfriends.
It’s fine, and it’s so fine that when Phoenix gets back to his office he doesn’t research Von Karma and where he works, or think about where before Bluecorp and anyone listening would have only been interested in Maya, but now Phoenix has enemies all of his own.
He decides to take a break from his office for a few weeks. He misses Maya, but he’s glad almost, that she’s gone. He feels like spying on Kurain will be a hell of a lot harder.
Phoenix spends his break sealing the blinds in his apartment shut and installing trip wires and leaving tiny pieces of paper in his drawers. He doesn’t think Von Karma or Bluecorp or anyone should know where he lives. It’s not linked to the office, its’ fine, it’s fine.
After all, it’s not really paranoia, he’s just being reasonable.
And eventually, he’s back in his office, with sound proofing for the window and a lined box for his phone and three passwords on his computer. Half the time he writes his notes in a code he doesn’t quite understand, which causes problems later, but he’s always been more of an improviser.
It’s all fine, and he’s even had a few more clients. Or well, prospective clients. Phoenix hasn't accepted any cases, not when he can't talk to them in his office and he doesn't want to talk to them elsewhere.
He’s careful about talking to them in the office, and even more careful about talking to them on the phone. He speaks very quietly, it’s a big contrast to court. But it’s fine.
Edgeworth is still mostly ignoring him, though that might be because Phoenix largely refuses to take any calls.
“Wright!” Edgeworth calls as he strides into Phoenix’s office, and that’s how Phoenix goes to lunch for the second time that day and Edgeworth pays.
“So what are the details of the case?” Phoenix asks, face half buried in his soup, tucked in the back of some little cafe. It had looked like Edgeworth was going to take the seat facing the door, and Phoenix had felt his chest tighten, but then the other man hadn’t so, yeah.
It feels like Edgeworth stares at him for just a moment too long before launching into an explanation, but Phoenix shakes it off because this is Edgeworth . Phoenix had gotten him off a murder charge the man had tried damn hard to make sure he went down for. He’s probably just trying to think of the most eloquent way he could phrase it.
Probably.
“So- so you’re saying it was a-” Phoenix looks around, lowers his voice a little, “A cover up? You think she’s actively being framed?” It feels like something bright is blinking behind his eyes as he tries to keep Edgeworth steady in his sights.
Sometimes Phoenix really thinks Gumshoe needs to take a better look at whoever he arrests. Or that the legal system is broken, he thinks that a lot though.
“That’s what you specialise in, right?” or was it Wright? Not important. “So far haven’t all your clients been framed ?”
Like Edgeworth, like Maya, like Larry, like Phoenix . He supposes Will Powers was framed as well.
He laughs a little, because maybe it is a little funny, thinking about it. Once more, he tries to ignore the feeling of something clawing up his spine. He cracks his knuckles one by one, all the way from pinkie to thumb on both hands.
He kind of wants to stop when he sees Edgeworth wince at the sound, but once he’s started he can’t stop. He can’t, it’s just wrong.
“Yeah,” he says lightly, “I suppose they have.” Framed in an attempt to cover things up, because Phoenix was getting too close to Redd White, or because Edgeworth was finally turning on Karma. Phoenix is still waiting for retribution on Karma from that one. He’d spent last weekend installing a new deadbolt on his apartment, and the only reason he didn’t have a new lock was because he didn’t trust the locksmith to do it. Phoenix is fine. He’s being careful and as long as he keeps being careful and doing everything right he’ll be fine.
Edgeworth though… who’s sitting with his back to the door and had been all too willing to talk cases- and such a twisty one! In Phoenix’s office which could have been bugged .
Mia hadn’t thought people were listening and look how that turned out. It’s not paranoia if they’re really out to get you, it’s not. It’s not , it’s just caution.
“You’re not going to get framed for another murder, are you?” Phoenix asks, trying for lighthearted but he thinks his voice might crack, “For refusing to prosecute and for helping me again?”
His heart is thudding in his chest, should Phoenix already be preparing another defence?
Edgeworth squints at him, before it melts away and they just stare at each for a long time. Phoenix rubs each of his fingertips on his right hand three times with his thumb underneath the table.
“ That ,” Edgeworth says lowly, “Was going to happen anyway. There were only days before the statute of limitations ran out. Maybe me throwing the Steel Samurai case sweetened the deal, but I would put good money on it that Von Karma had been planning it for a long time.”
Edgeworth’s face twists uncharacteristically.
“He got four years of using me as an attack dog, he probably thought it was long time to get me put down.”
Phoenix kind of wants to ask now if that means Edgeworth is going to stop being a prosecutor and switch to defence.
But he knows the answer, doesn’t he.
‘My father was taken from me and you want me to defend criminals? I’m sorry, Wright, I’m not that good of a person .’
Then again, Edgeworth is here , refusing to prosecute, asking Phoenix to take the case because he’s a really good defence attorney (Phoenix still feels warm inside from that). Maybe a switch isn’t coming now, or even ever, but Phoenix still thinks Edgeworth is too harsh on himself.
“Okay,” Phoenix says in lieu of anything else, mind still whirring. Is it going to fall on to him? Edgeworth wouldn’t set Phoenix up like that, but if Edgeworth can’t see all the plots and traps whirring like Phoenix can…
What a stupid thought. Edgeworth is probably the kind of person who sees traps that aren’t even there.
Phoenix can’t let an innocent person be convicted of a crime they didn’t commit. He’s just going to have to deal with this.
He can do it.
He’ll just make sure not to keep anything in his apartment or in his office. And maybe get an even stronger lock. And maybe move after the case, except he can’t leave the office because of Mia and Maya and he can’t leave his apartment because of his wallet.
“Can you keep ahold of the case files for me?” he asks Edgeworth, not quite looking him in the eye, drumming his fingers on the table. He feels bad, but Edgeworth is a prosecutor and quite notorious so nobody will be looking at him .
They won’t be breaking into his office to bash in his brain so his skull mingles with glass and blood on the carpet- that Phoenix had cleaned up - with his own evidence.
“Why?” the word is short and curt, but when Phoenix looks up Edgeworth looks less angry and more confused.
“I don’t-” Phoenix grins, and tries to ignore the sweat in his hair as he thinks about how to explain it. “I- er, I mean-”
Edgeworth is still looking at him, but it doesn’t feel like the game they play in court, Edgeworth doesn’t look like he’s having fun and Phoenix certainly isn’t. He drops his soup spoon onto the table and really registers that Edgeworth hasn’t done anymore than stir his own.
“I don’t like to keep sensitive information in my office,” he decides to admit, “It’s not safe. The office I mean- I still don’t know if- after Bluecorp- and-” he knows he’s babbling, and if he didn’t the creasing furrow of Edgeworth’s brow would say it all.
So Phoenix grins again instead, so that Edgeworth realises this is all fine , it’s lighthearted. It’s just a simple favour and not something that stirs in Phoenix’s belly and drags its fingers down his neck.
“You think somebody is spying on you.” It’s said less as a question and more as statement of fact, so very slowly that it’s almost impossible that it doesn’t come out sarcastic. Panic spikes, and Phoenix darts his eyes around the cafe again, but they’re alone.
“It’s a definite possibility,” Phoenix clarifies, still not looking at Edgeworth, still checking. He rubs his fingers together again with certain deliberateness, Edgeworth’s are lying out on the table.
“You’re being paranoid,” Edgeworth says clearly, leaning back against his chair and folding his arms.
Phoenix jumps, finger tips flying apart and he has to go back to the beginning.
“I’m not paranoid,” Phoenix says urgently, quiet but urgent, eyes darting around as he says it, itchiness crawling up his spine. “It’s not paranoia if they’re really out to get you.” It isn’t, it can’t be. This is what’s keeping him safe and if it’s not real then why does he feel like this all the time?
And if he’s wrong what is he doing?
Phoenix doesn’t always feel sure about a lot of things. Most things, half his objections in court- well maybe only a quarter.
But he feels sure of this, someone is watching him. And many people definitely want to. Bluecorp had more fingers than just the phone tap, and Von Karma has plenty of resources of his own.
And if Edgeworth doesn’t believe him then…
“Wright, I’m going to give you some costly advice for free here,” Edgeworth says, fingers splayed on the table and with a stare that’s far less heated than anything they get in the courtroom but no less intense. “You are paranoid, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t out to get you. It also doesn’t mean they are. And it definitely doesn’t mean you can keep living your life like this. You need to speak to someone, I can vet them for you if you’re really that stressed about it- although that in itself says volumes about your little problem here.”
It’s not paranoia if it’s real, Phoenix wants to say again, can feel it breaking in his throat. But Edgeworth is one of the most cynical bastards he knows, and the little voice in his head that sounds like Mia Fey is screaming at him to listen to Edgeworth, that regardless of if he is right or not he has a problem.
But if he’s right…
He thinks of finding Mia, surrounded by blood and broken glass and has to fight the urge to be sick.
“No,” he tells Edgeworth instead of anything else. “No. And I don’t want the case either.“ His words feel like they’re mashing and sliding together on his tongue, they’re fighting their way out past a large cotton ball that’s making everything slur.
“I don’t want your case castoffs, Miles .”
His chair bangs as he stands up, and Phoenix takes a moment to mourn his soup as he walks out of the cafe on shaky legs, the world twisting slightly around him.
If Edgeworth is claiming not to believe him then maybe Edgeworth actually knows and this was a test- and Edgeworth doesn’t know where Phoenix lives. Except-
But he only has a key to the office and-
Once he’s got a block away, he starts to calm down a little. He focuses on counting the pavement cracks as he walks to ground him, he’s being ridiculous.
Edgeworth has left that life, and if Edgeworth were going to do something he’d be less underhand- or at least better at being underhand.
Edgeworth may be wrong- because he has to be wrong; he has to be- but Edgeworth is still Phoenix’s friend regardless of whether the other man wants to consider Phoenix his own.
He stops by an alley, lets the comforting weight of a brick wall against his back calm him down as he tries to get his breath back and screw his head on straight.
He’s not paranoid, because if he’s paranoid then Edgeworth is probably right, so he’s going to go back to his office, and sit at his desk, and try and do some work.
What work, he doesn’t know, but he’ll do something. Maybe read some of Mia’s law books.
Except, when he returns to his office, fingers still shaking slightly, and chest heaving from a run he wasn’t quite in control of, he’s immediately greeted by the sight of Edgeworth’s coat. And it’s fucking freezing out and he’s not going to let Edgeworth walk home cold- regardless of everything else.
And it’s raining now too.
Which is almost good because it kind of gives Phoenix hope that Edgeworth might still be there, at the cafe, waiting it out.
And if Phoenix takes the opportunity to check the pockets of Edgeworth’s coat with trembling fingers then nobody has to know.
“Sorry,” is the first thing Phoenix says upon seeing a scowling Edgeworth eating his soup very, very slowly with an expression of distaste. He rubs the back of his hair with his hand and tries to smile as apologetically as possible.
“For what I said and for not taking the case,” he clarifies, Edgeworth just takes another spoon of soup without really looking at him. Phoenix shifts his weight awkwardly, holding out Edgeworth’s coat.
“I brought this back?” he tries, voice rising at the end of the sentence.
More silence until there’s the clattering of a spoon hitting the table.
“You’re actually insane, aren’t you, Wright,” Edgeworth scoffs but with none of the heat it has in the courtroom.
“I do it special for you,” Phoenix shoots back, but it’s hollow, there’s no fun in it because Edgeworth doesn’t sound like he’s losing it or having fun.
Edgeworth is making sounds that Phoenix can’t decipher and he’s still holding Edgeworth’s coat out wishing he could just take it all back.
“Fine.” Edgeworth says eventually, still not taking his coat, “Perhaps I can’t definitively say that nobody is, or has ever, spied on you. We both already know Bluecorp tapped your office- although the evidence would suggest that was the first and only time, and since the tap is removed now it should be safe. But -” Edgeworth continues louder as if expecting Phoenix’s interruption, “It’s undeniable you have a problem. You can’t even take cases! You’re supposed to be a defence attorney!”
“Objection,” Phoenix calls, “ You were supposed to be a defence attorney.” He’s still holding Edgeworth’s coat out, and he feels ridiculous so he pulls it closer to him.
Definitely a cheap shot, but that’s court. Except they’re not in court now, but sometimes it feels like the only way he really knows how to talk to Edgeworth is to pretend they’re on trial.
“Yet I still live a functioning life as a prosecutor,” Edgeworth interjects, finger tapping on his sleeve, “And I wanted to be a defence attorney before. I didn’t try to continue something I couldn’t do.”
But, and Phoenix grins something a little wicked, it’s like a cleansing fire in his veins.
“ You tried to use your skills as a prosecutor to get yourself arrested. What kind of functioning life would that be?”
Phoenix has sat down in the chair opposite Edgeworth without exactly realising it until Edgeworth is leaning towards him, elbows on the table and grinning a grin so self-satisfied that Phoenix starts to worry about what it is he’s missed.
“So you admit that this behaviour is a problem then? Mr Wright? If our actions are comparable and mine were ill-advised?”
Fuck , Phoenix can feel himself sweating just as much as if he were actually on the stand and the judge was leaning in Edgeworth’s favour.
“I’ll take the case,” Phoenix says instead, avoiding the question, proving he can be a defence attorney and helping someone in the same sentence. Win for Phoenix Wright.
It’s possibly strange that he feels most calm when he’s arguing.
Except Edgeworth is shaking his head and it’s calm like it is in court, but it’s not smug and it’s not accompanied by that finger tapping on his arm.
“Too late, I phoned Grossberg and told him he better take it, I think he owes me a few favours.”
And well, Mia trusted Grossberg, although… she really shouldn’t have. Phoenix spares a thought for Misty Fey. But that gets him back onto Bluecorp and any normalcy he may have gained is twisted up again and- and-
“I’m not giving you the case,” Edgeworth continues, seemingly oblivious of Phoenix’s panic, “Get yourself some help, Wright, and then perhaps we can see each other in court again. Or even out of it without you looking like you’re about to go into cardiac arrest directly in front of me.”
So uh, maybe Edgeworth wasn’t so oblivious then.
There’s sense to what Edgeworth is saying, and it sounds like the kind of thing maybe Mia would tell him.
And it gets tiring, blocking the window and trying to pretend it’s all fine for clients. But it’s not that simple .
“What if they know?” Phoenix asks instead, subdued, head in his hands on the table, Edgeworth’s coat on his lap. “And they listen and they find out just how much I know about them and-”
He looks around the cafe again, but there’s still nobody here. He rubs his fingers together and shakes his head.
“That would be illegal, Wright.”
Phoenix just gives him a look at that.
“And exceedingly unprofessional,” Edgeworth concedes. And well, how could Phoenix argue against that. Anybody Edgeworth recommends would probably stroke at the mere of unprofessional behaviour. Phoenix actually feels a bit self conscious suddenly, although if Edgeworth recommends-
“My insurance is kind of crap,” he objects weakly, and hunches further still at Edgeworth’s glare.
“I’ll pay, I need the competition in the court room, and it’s not fair play or fun if the defence can’t concentrate on the case because of anything else.”
Would it kill you? Phoenix thinks, to say that you cared?
“I’m fine,” Phoenix says instead, trying to grin again even though he knows Edgeworth sees through it. “Or at least as fine as you are.”
That gets him a glare. Which feels like part of a victory.
“We have already established,” Edgeworth tells him snootily, “That I, unlike you, am able to perform my job admirably. And that my mishaps were in the past so-”
And hah, Phoenix has got him here.
“Thanks to me ,” Phoenix cuts in, “Because I stopped your attempts at self-sabotage in the court room.” He grins, real and happy, proud of his trump card not even sure why he’s arguing this but that he needs too.
“That you did,” Edgeworth says after a short pause. “And I am- well, I contain feelings of gratitude towards you and Miss Fey for clearing my name and finally getting justice for my father.” He seems kind of awkward, it’s kind of cute.
“But I would prefer if we could solve your attempts at self-sabotage outside of it.”
Phoenix takes it all back.
“What?” he asks meanly, “Because you think you’d lose against me again? You couldn’t even win the case when the person you were prosecuting was yourself .” Again, it’s a low blow, but Edgeworth deserves it.
This is just a cafe and the only person working is Mason, who spends more time in the back or listening to music than really doing anything else. Mason is a poor substitute for a judge, but considering the nature of the conversation Phoenix prefers it that way.
Edgeworth goes red and Phoenix tries not to feel guilty.
“No,” the man hisses, “Because I think we’d both prefer it if this didn’t come up in court. Besides, the wettest prosecutor could probably win a case against you at the moment. All they’d have to do is mention Bluecorp and you would be running out of there, client be damned.”
Phoenix’s chair is half pushed back, bile rising up his throat before he realises that maybe this means that Edgeworth is just right .
“I don’t want to,” Phoenix objects, a last straw attempt that he’s not even sure that he means, but this has been his normal for so long it’s all clawing around inside of him. He can’t look at Edgeworth, so he looks down at the man’s coat instead, it’s a heavy thing, maybe slightly obnoxious, but Phoenix wouldn’t have it any other way. Edgeworth that is, not the coat. Though the coat is heavy.
“And I didn’t want you to be my lawyer,” Edgeworth objects, leaning back in his chair, arms folded, face taking no argument. “But you said something about not letting me bury myself that easily.”
Phoenix swallows and Edgeworth keeps staring. He doesn’t know what to do and he doesn’t know what not to do. Edgeworth says he’s probably wrong and Phoenix isn’t even sure which way is up.
He just wants the itching on his spine to leave as much as he’s convinced it’s the only thing keeping him safe. Mia hadn’t lived in fear and then Phoenix had walked in on her dead body.
“If you’re so convinced this is fine, then why haven’t you told Miss Fey?” Edgeworth again.
Phoenix thinks of Maya, and her training, and Mia and how she’d taught him everything he knew. How she’d wanted him to be the best lawyer he could be, how Maya had such faith and trust in him, their easy friendship.
“And Wright,” Edgeworth says, somehow even quieter than before, “If there is any credence to your fears, I will find the evidence, and I will present it in court, and you will see just how I earnt my reputation as a lawyer first hand.”
Phoenix thinks of that news article on Miles Edgeworth. He thinks of Mia and Maya Fey. He thinks how Larry is his best friend but he can’t even have him come to his apartment.
Phoenix thinks of hiding in his apartment convinced every creak was the end.
How much can it hurt to have someone tell him he’s wrong, that it’s all fine?
A lot, a lot if he’s right. But if he’s right, Edgeworth will prove it, and he trusts Edgeworth.
And if he’s been wrong…
Mia and Edgeworth want him to do this.
“Fine,” Phoenix says looking down, fingers bunching in Edgeworth’s coat. “Fine, fine, fine.” finefinefinefinefinefine it all swirls around his head but he bites the words down.
“It will be.”
Phoenix is looking away so he can’t tell if Edgeworth is looking at him either. But Phoenix trusts Edgeworth, that’s what he’d said when they were on trial. And he knows him, and he knows Edgeworth likes justice and truth. Or he thinks the man does.
So if Edgeworth says that it will be fine…
Phoenix supposes he has to believe it will be fine.