Chapter Text
It had been two weeks since Detective Gumshoe called and told him that Edgeworth was dead. Two weeks since the most brilliant prosecutor Phoenix had ever known took his own life.
Two weeks since Phoenix’s world had collapsed in around him.
And for every day during those two weeks, Phoenix had been leaving Edgeworth voicemails. Mostly as a sort of grief processing thing. A place to say everything he'd never gotten to say when the man was still alive. Phoenix hadn't been sure about leaving them at first, since he knew he'd be mortified if anyone found out, but...
It wasn't like anyone would ever hear them anyways. Soon enough, Edgeworth’s number would be disconnected, and the voicemails would be gone forever. Nobody would have to know.
Even still, Phoenix knew that this call would be the last. He'd already said almost everything there was to say—and multiple times, too. There was really only one thing left, now. It would be the hardest by far, but when all of it was done and over with, Phoenix knew he'd be glad to have said it.
He also knew it was the only way he'd feel any sense of closure about the whole thing.
So Phoenix took out his phone and dialed Edgeworth’s number. One last time, he promised silently as it rang. One last phone call, and then I’ll be done. It didn’t matter that he’d told himself that all the other times. This time, he really meant it.
"You’ve reached the cell phone of Miles Edgeworth," the voicemail stated in Edgeworth’s business-like voice. Phoenix was going to miss listening to it, even if it wasn’t actually Edgeworth anymore. It was close enough to pretend.
"I am currently unavailable—" And he always would be. Phoenix blinked quickly, forcing himself not to dwell on that thought.
"—so please leave a message. If you are calling about a work matter, I would request that you call my office phone, as I will not respond to professional queries on a personal device. Otherwise, I will get back to you when I am able."
The recording finished with a beep, marking the last time Phoenix would hear Edgeworth’s voice. He knew he wouldn’t be able to bear to watch recordings of his trials, and he didn’t think he’d ever get the courage to ask Maya to channel him. Both of those would just be too much, way too much.
Phoenix drew in a shaky breath. "Hey Edgeworth. It's me again, Phoenix. I know that you won't pick this up—can't pick this up, I should say—but that's fine," he said, even though the tears were already starting to slip down his face.
"But who am I kidding?" Phoenix asked with a mirthless laugh. "Of course it's not fine, it's never been fine—hell, I've never been fine, not since I got that phone call—but it's not like either of us can do anything about it. Because you're gone, you're..." Phoenix tried to swallow the lump in his throat. He made himself say the words, the ones he'd wished were just a part of some twisted, two-week-long nightmare. The ones that he knew deep down were probably true, even if they'd never found the body. "You're d-dead."
"And...and I'm just..." Phoenix took the opportunity to wipe furiously at his eyes. It didn't do much good; the tears were still flowing like they were trying to fill up an entire ocean's worth of misery. Phoenix felt like he was drowning anyways, so they might as well have been.
"I'm a mess right now, Edgeworth. When am I not, right?" He gave another low, humorless chuckle. "But this is by far the worst, because—well, let's just say this was a pretty terrible way for me to realize I was in love with you. Now that it's too late, now that I can never tell you...Seems almost fitting, in a way. That's how I always got to the truth before, right on the cusp of too late."
"Except this time there's no grand turnabout at the end. There's no last minute evidence, no witnesses who'll turn up and suddenly make it so you're alive again." Phoenix exhaled, running a hand through his hair as he did so. "I really—I get it, I really do, I get what you were going through, I just—I wish you hadn't felt like this was the only way," Phoenix nearly whispered, his voice breaking as he tried to hold back the sobbing. He was like a dam ready to burst, cracked and damaged in ways that could never be repaired.
"I wish you could have let us help you. Gumshoe, Maya...me...we all care about you," he said, sniffling and wiping his nose on the sleeve of his hoodie. If Edgeworth were there, he would have told Phoenix off for that. But that was the whole problem; Edgeworth wasn't there, never would be again. "We all miss you, you know. And...for me, at least, I know that I always will. I don't—I never wanted to live in a world without you in it, Edgeworth. I hope you know that."
"I'm not saying I'm going to give up, though," Phoenix said hurriedly, lest the ghost of Edgeworth get the wrong idea. "I couldn't...I couldn't do that. No, I'm going to keep fighting, it's just...I wanted you to know. That even though you’re gone, even though I'll never see you again, there'll always be a piece of me that still loves you."
"Because...you were one of the greatest men I ever knew," he said, intent on giving Edgeworth the entire truth. "I know that you didn't always...let's be honest, you did some not-so-great things. You hurt people. But you were trying to do what was right. And you were trying to fix your mistakes, in the end. That doesn't automatically make anything better, but..."
"It takes a lot of courage to admit when you're wrong. Especially when you're not wrong often—I think it's not too much of a stretch for me to say that about you. After all, you're one of the smartest, most brilliant people I've ever met. I wish we could have taken more cases together; something about facing you in court was just so exhilarating. That constant push and pull we had, it made me feel like I was really living, y’know?"
"But I hate knowing that I'm never going to get that feeling again, because no matter who I face off in court, they could never be you," Phoenix said, choking the words out. They felt awful and sticky in his throat, a poison that would slowly kill him if he didn't speak them aloud. "I hate knowing that even if you could have talked to us, it still wouldn't have been enough, because nothing I do has ever been enough, not when it really matters like this. And...what I hate most of all...is knowing that no matter how I cry and beg and plead, you're never going to come home."
"So this—this'll have to..." he managed to gasp out. Why did it have to be so hard? Why couldn't a farewell ever be easy? "To—to be g-goodbye. I...I love you, Miles. I really hope that...wherever you are...I hope you can be at peace. I really want that for you."
Phoenix was barely able to click the red 'end call' button before he dissolved into horrible, wracking sobs. He hadn't wanted to cry on the phone; he knew if he'd started he wouldn't be able to stop.
As it was, Phoenix only stopped crying because he'd passed out from the effort of it all. He would wake up after a few hours of restless sleep, and then learn to cope again with that terrible, empty feeling that had been his constant companion for the past two weeks.
But for the time being, he was blissfully unaware of everything around him, too exhausted to even dream. It was for the best; his dreams were all of Edgeworth, lately, and whether it would be nightmare or fantasy, it would hurt just the same.
Everything to do with Edgeworth hurt these days. It was just a matter of how long he could stave off the pain.