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I. Nostalgia
It started when they were nine.
Miles wasn't sure why, but he always found himself staring at the kid sitting near the front of the class. He was almost always drawing something, and when he wasn't, he was either looking at the ceiling or out the window, his spiky black hair bobbing slightly as he tried not to fall asleep.
One day, as usual, Miles gazes at his classmate, now occupied with drawing a rather detailed person. The figure looked almost metallic, and had a heroic look on its face. The budding artist in question turns back, somehow feeling Miles's eyes on both him and the drawing.
"Hey, Miles! Like this picture? It's from my favorite show!"
"...and what would that be?" he asks hesitantly.
"Signal Samurai! It's got brave heroes in it, it's super awesome!" The spiky haired boy answers, a passionate glint in his eye. "You haven't heard of it?"
"I.. can't say that I have, no."
"Oh.. Well, you should watch it sometime! Maybe if we ask our parents, you can come over! We have some episodes on VCR."
"I-I'll see what I can do," Miles answers timidly.
Despite the brevity of the conversation, the young boy was slightly overwhelmed, hundreds of thoughts running through his head. Amidst them all, however, one prevailed, a blush rising in his cheeks at the realization.
He knows my name?
Later, he finds out that teachers aren't fond of his type of behavior, and there was a reason he was kept in the front of that third grade class. For now, he just stares, intrigued by the boy with the spiky hair and confident grin.
He wasn't the type to steal money, Miles knows. He also knows that the truth is something far more valuable than going with popular opinion, and so he makes a decision. Without knowing it, that decision- to defend a young Phoenix Wright- altered the course of countless lives, including his own.
II. Arrival
Miles arrives at the courtroom, early as usual, when he hears a voice that’s hauntingly familiar.
Then he sees him.
That same reassuring smile, that passionate glint in his eye. Now, in a blue suit instead of the cargo shorts and t-shirts he used to wear when they were kids. Now, the man in front of him is wearing a badge that he once longed for, that he dreamed of wearing on his lapel. Phoenix Wright, now organizing his case files, albeit haphazardly, on the other stand, has become his adversary. His rival in a tumultuous world of evidence, testimony, and falsehood.
Upon further observation, Wright looks… different, not only in his appearance, but he also… seems different. While he seemed more sure of himself than he once was, it was quite apparent that he was still a rookie, only having won one trial. Despite this, he still has the same sort of charm to him.
Either the prosecutor in charge that day was incompetent, or it was merely “beginner’s luck”, as they call it. To Miles, there could be no other reason for such a failure on the prosecution’s part.
Having prepared his documents almost half an hour ago, the prosecutor was merely waiting on the new defense attorney and his mismatched folders.
His gaze couldn’t help but linger on Wright’s furrowed brow, the way he worried his bottom lip while searching for whatever it was he needed (useless outdated “evidence”, Miles was sure of it). He had matured substantially, finally having grown into his features since he last saw the other man. He kept looking at the defendant’s table, at the young girl sitting handcuffed in robes that looked far too big for her short stature. He was well aware, at this point, that the victim had been his mentor, and Wright felt a sort of obligation to her younger sister by association.
It appears that things haven’t changed as much as I thought…
Wright always had a bit of a reputation, back when they were children. He would always be getting himself into trouble, and soon enough, he learned how to talk his way out of it. It was especially useful whenever Larry got himself into a pinch (which was often). He would always be the first to help the two, whenever Larry fell off the monkey bars or that time when Miles had gotten scratched something awful by a stray tree branch. Always so naive, so easily trusting, and it makes sense, Miles reasons, that he ended up becoming a defense attorney. Those people always ended up coming up with some sort of excuse, some loophole in the law that would let their clients walk free at all costs- something Miles would never allow, on his watch.
Miles Edgeworth hasn’t failed yet, and his logic has proven time and time again the guilt of countless ruthless criminals. He doesn’t see why facing off against someone he barely knew as a child would make this trial’s outcome any different.
The predicament this time is the murder of one Mia Fey, a defense attorney he had faced off against when he was merely a rookie, already having earned the name “demon prosecutor” by the masses. Murdered by her own sister, who’s barely sixteen. Had he been a younger man, newer to the field, this would have shaken him, seeing the young girl on the defendant’s stand, terrified. After a few years being in this profession, however, Miles has seen far worse. The only thing he focuses on now is the guilty verdict he’s sure to win. His logic is always right, and soon enough, that murderer will be rightfully imprisoned for her crimes.
It’s then that Wright looks up, seeing Miles in person for the first time in fifteen years. The prosecutor sees his eyes widen in recognition, his look one of a multitude of emotions. Before he can pick any of them apart, the look is gone, replaced with one of determination, his jaw set, strengthening his resolve.
“Court is now in session for the trial of Ms. Maya Fey.”
“The prosecution is ready, your honor.”
“The defense is ready, your honor.”
That trial became one he’d rather forget.
III. Distraction
It’s been 2 years since that fateful trial.
So much has happened, Miles having been aligned with his true goal, unearthing the truth at all costs, and finding himself in the process. He has Wright to thank for that, it seems.
He represents everything Miles stood for, back then. The valiant defense of the innocent, fighting for true justice no matter what. Those morals he held dear, crushed by those who wanted nothing but to make a monster of him, only seeking perfection at every angle.
Miles Edgeworth dies. Not in the way he had planned, but the way that he needed to, in order to become a better man, a better prosecutor in the pursuit of justice, of a truly fair and just verdict. In this way he is reborn, with a new goal, a new ambition, using the same razor-sharp wit he held all those years ago.
All this because of him . The man sitting next to him in his office, comfortable on the plush sofa. They had developed a sort of amicable bond, now. They dispute case files over tea, each man arguing his point while trying to resolve their particular cases. This type of meeting seldom happens- seeing as they are facing off in court more often than not. This is only the third time such a meeting has taken place, and Miles was beginning to enjoy the comforting familiarity of their back-and-forth, figuring out when to press and when to let Wright figure things out on his own, the defense attorney learning when to go all in and when to lie low, letting the other reevaluate the evidence before coming up with another ludicrous claim.
Now, after having reached a standstill in the conversation, Miles turns to look at Wright, perplexed at the evidence he’s found, rambling on about all the different possibilities and outcomes that line up with his theory.
“I don’t know, Edgeworth,” he mumbles, “why would the defendant’s oil-covered fingerprints be on this hairbrush in the first place? I mean, there’s no way she could’ve gotten into the salon, stolen the products and used them before murdering the victim. It just doesn’t match up with the prosecution’s timeframe for the case…”
He’s running his hand through his hair, a frustrated huff escaping his lips. Miles tries not to focus on the way they part, silently mouthing the words on the autopsy report as he reads them. His eyes run through the evidence over and over, looking for a contradiction in between the lines of text detailing the victm’s whereabouts the night of the murder, the time of death, anything-
There it is.
Suddenly, Wright’s demeanor changes from one of confusion to one of understanding as the missing pieces click together. One throwaway line in a previous witness’ testimony flips the entire case on its head, revealing the possibility for an alternate account of events. As per usual, he’s reached the case’s turnabout, evidence he’s collected seemingly on a whim becoming crucial, blanks in other testimonies filled by numerous possibilities, the flaws in the prosecution’s argument becoming clear as day.
Miles admires the way his eyes blaze with a spark that could only be his own, his devotion to his clients and the pursuit of the truth coming in at full force as he flips through documents, scrawling notes in the margins and documenting his conjecture before the details escape him. His leg bounces up and down as he gains insight on the true nature of this crime, unearthing motives previously thought to be impossible, rambling all the while.
He wonders how he could ever think of this man as anything other than extraordinary, ignoring the way his heart stutters at the realization.
He’s snapped out of his reverie when Wright turns his head, noticing the other man’s prolonged silence. He waves his hand slightly in front of the prosecutor’s face.
“Hey Edgeworth, you doing alright? You looked off. What, is there something on my face? ”
“N-not at all. I am alright, I was merely… lost in thought.”
At that, his look of concern fades into a teasing smirk. “Thinking of anyone in particular, Mr. Prosecutor?” he asks jokingly, raising an eyebrow.
“Not at the moment, no. In fact, I was merely pondering your argument that the true murderer had simply taken the train after committing the crime. Highly unlikely, to say the least,” he replies coolly, a small smirk of his own forming onto his face, replacing his usual scowl.
“Not if you consider…”
They continue like this for a few more hours, falling back into their easy banter, the moment gone as soon as it came. They continue to challenge each other, furthering their pursuit of the truth once again, pushing the other to their highest potential while also bettering themselves. The goal is no longer to best the other, but to succeed in tandem, a harmony developing between the defense and the prosecution that will change the legal world for decades to come.
IV. Yearning
Miles realizes it some 3 years later, sitting on a train destined for Munich with Wright and his daughter.
The man in question sits opposite him, with the young girl nestled comfortably on his shoulder. Wright’s usual blue suit is now replaced by a hoodie and sweatpants, the shining badge on his lapel now a mere memory. He sits deathly still, a stark contrast to his usual jittery nature, always moving in some way, shape or form.
He has an arm protectively around his daughter, gazing out the window with a faraway look in his eyes. The man has gone through so much in the past 3 years, having lost his badge and adopted a child within such a short time…
The young girl is his world, and for good reason. Trucy Wright is an exceptional young lady, talented in her craft and so, so bright. This outcome being the aftermath of the events she went through at such a young age, events eerily similar to his own, has him feeling grateful that she’s raised by someone so unlike his mentor. It helps that she’s raised in a loving environment, despite the other struggles the family is still facing.
Miles knows it could be so, so much worse.
It's the way Wright treats his daughter- showering her with all the love in the world- that does it for Miles. Despite being left with nothing, the man still finds it in him to give every single time. In a heartbeat, he would do whatever he could for the people he loves, even throwing his life on the line.
Yet again, he's reminded of when they were children.
The soft smile on Wright’s face when he slowly helped Miles make a paper crane, encouraging him to not give up. The way that he listened to the other boy’s tangents on law, not quite understanding what he meant. Clear as day, he remembers the other nodding along despite this, trying his best to pay attention. There was even that time he comforted Larry, who fell and scraped his legs after another stunt trying to impress a girl.
All the while, Phoenix was kind, reassuring, and honest. All this time, all he did was give without expecting anything in return. Miles remembers the trial that cleared his name, the way that Phoenix beamed as he hugged him while he cried, saying that “It’s okay now” and “We’ll be alright”. That same man was now staring out the window, eyes cloudy with something akin to regret, holding his daughter as she slept, making sure that more than anything, she was safe.
It’s this that makes something click in Miles. The realization that leaves him reeling, that final truth he kept pushing into his subconscious is unavoidable, pushing itself to the forefront of his mind. It’s then, he decides-
He would do anything to see that smile again.
V. Return
So many hours of struggle, of toil and meticulous searching for the truth, for an answer- has led up to this.
Phoenix Wright pins that little golden badge on his lapel. After seven of the hardest years of his life, his period of disbarment has ended, the dark age of the law slowly coming to a close.
Miles looks on, staring in admiration at the man he’s seen go through hell and high water for this very moment. He's finally back in the legal world after so long. It won’t be easy, rebuilding his reputation after having it obliterated all those years ago, but if anyone can do it, it’s Phoenix.
Phoenix, the best defense attorney, the best man he knows, had no other fate than that of the pursuit of justice. That much was known the moment that Miles rose up to his defense that cloudy day in the third grade. To see him back where he truly belonged, beaming with a new sort of pride, filled Miles with a sense of wonder.
They’re standing face to face now, Miles taking the opportunity to look the other man up and down. His eyes shine with a renewed resolve, determination in the way his jaw is set as he looks back at the prosecutor. There’s a subtle quirk to his lips as he smirks, confident and assured, just as he was that first time their eyes met in the courtroom. He chuckles, looking off to the side, putting his hand to the back of his neck in that same familiar gesture.
“Guess this is finally it, huh, Edgeworth?”
“Indeed it is.”
Miles stares, taking in the moment for all it’s worth, taking a deep breath, steeling himself before saying the words that could make or break their relationship- whether that’s as friends or something… more.
“It’s… an honor, being able to stand in court with you again, Phoenix.”
He hopes he’s not imagining the way Phoenix’s breath hitched at the use of his name.
“It was you who set me on my true path. You, the one who truly made me realize what my purpose was, in my career as a prosecutor and in life. Phoenix, you’re a remarkable man, and I deeply value our friendship, however…”
“... Edgeworth?” He looked perplexed now, his face contorting into one of confusion, a tinge of fear, but also.. Was that a faint glimmer of hope?
“I understand if you cannot forgive me for this, and if you no longer wish to associate with me, but no matter how hard I try, I cannot dismiss these feelings I have as merely platonic. My affections for you have only grown as time went on, and… they’ve become far too much for me to ignore.”
“It’s about time I tell you the truth, that is… I am in love with you, Phoenix Wright.”
The other man’s eyes widened as Miles gave him time to process the confession before making a move.
Slowly, hesitantly, he places his hand on the prosecutor’s lapel, and pulls.
The kiss ended as soon as it began, soft, and chaste, conveying all the meaning it had to. Soon after, Miles is pulling him in, crashing into Phoenix’s arms as their lips meet again.
If their first kiss felt like a spark, the kiss that came after was their burning flame. It held everything that was left unsaid over the years. Phoenix tilts his head, bringing them ever closer, tightening his grip on the other's waist. Miles, in turn, runs his hands through the other man’s jet-black tufts of hair. It's not perfect, they're both smiling through the kiss, teeth clacking together slightly as they pull back for air, going back for more a few seconds later, but words can’t describe the feeling of holding onto the other, knowing that this longing was not in vain.
It felt like coming home, like everything they had gone through was worth it for this very moment. It held all of the moments of yearning, of affection they had for each other. It felt like all the little moments between them that seemed inconsequential, this whole time, building up into something far larger than themselves.
It felt like falling, all over again.
When they finally part, the pair stay put, touching their foreheads together. They're both a bit breathless, laughing softly out of the sheer joy that comes from loving and being loved in return.
“I apologize if this was too sudden for you.” The prosecutor mutters bashfully, his previous actions catching up to him.
“I’ve wanted to tell you this for years.” Phoenix smiles despite the tears starting to form in his eyes, "Just a matter of time, I guess." He lets out a soft chuckle at that as he looks at his partner, unabashed affection in his eyes.
“and for the record, I love you too, Miles.” He finally replies, leaning in again.
VI. Synchronicity
Sunlight filters through the curtains as Miles opens his eyes, waking up slowly. He’s greeted by two mismatched eyes staring back at him, half-lidded and still groggy with sleep. The look on his face is one of utmost adoration, something Miles is still not quite used to being on the receiving end of.
There's sense of openness, of vulnerability, a sort of unabashed reverence in the way the other man gazes at him, as if he would stop the world from turning just for this moment, where they can rest and know that everything is alright, as long as they stay by the other’s side.
There's a soft, easy smile on his face as he's pulled in closer, nestling his head in the crook of Phoenix’s neck. He feels a gentle kiss pressed onto his forehead.
"...Morning." The slight rumble of the latter’s voice is soothing, just the thing to rouse Miles, a slow and sure way to properly wake him up for the day that grounds him in reality.
Part of him wants to stay in this moment forever, hazy and warm in the arms of the man he loves, knowing their daughter is safe, asleep with Pess in the next room.
(Their daughter. Miles still hasn't gotten over how easily Trucy accepted him as another father, and is forever grateful for that trust being placed on him. He treats it with the utmost respect, raising her in the best way he can.)
Turning slightly to look at the digital clock on the side table, taking note of the small date in the corner. It's Saturday, there aren't many plans, it was meant to just be an easy day at home.
It wouldn't hurt, he thinks, to rest for a while.
Nestling his head back where it was before, breathing a small sigh of contentment, he lays there, tracing circles on Phoenix’s back as he murmurs a soft "Good morning" in response.
Alas, both men are morning people, meaning that once they're awake, it's difficult to get back to sleep.
Like clockwork, Miles sits up, reaching for the golden band on his nightstand and putting on his glasses. Not long after, his husband's also dragging himself out of bed, yawning and stretching, the slight pop as he cracks his back being the only noise filling the room for a few moments.
Trucy hasn't woken up yet, sleeping in after another show of hers last night. Just like every Saturday, they'll make pancakes together. He's sure Phoenix will end up humming some showtunes while cooking, spurring his daughter to sing along. He smiles at the thought of his family sharing those moments of sheer joy with one another.
Every day, he’s grateful that he never ended up alone, all those years ago.
Now, however, Phoenix is staring at him again, that same look in his eyes as he offers his hand to Miles. He takes it as they both step out of their room to get started on that well-loved routine.
and their day begins.