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When Iris watched Dahlia drip-drop the stolen liquid poison onto the Cold Killer X tablets with the eyedropper over the sink, she knew she had to do something. Telling Dahlia no was hardly an option. Last time she’d tried that, Dahlia had thrown herself off a bridge and pretended to be dead for five years as punishment.
No, Iris was an adult and could find solutions to her problems herself.
“Do the Feys ever deal in protection charms?” Iris asked Bikini casually, rubbing her feet and plying her with fresh cocoa.
“Oh, probably. I think there’s something about it in the library.” Bikini sank into her cushions with a happy little sigh. “You can take my key tonight, just give it back in the morning and don’t forget to lock up.”
Iris gave the darling old woman an affectionate kiss on the top of her head before doing just that. The library was always shut up tight because Hazakura was oldest of the Fey properties. It was where they sent everything they didn’t need anymore: scrolls with Misty’s face, antiquated books with cracking spines, and Iris Hawthorne. Iris unlocked the fire proof door and stepped inside the climate controlled space. Books and scrolls lined the walls; she took down the index tomes and began skimming through.
Most of the protections were spiritual, she found. All very well and good to keep her Feenie intact and waiting on the other side - not so helpful against arsenic. Surely there had to be something that could extend to the body…?
When her index finger stopped on the title, she hesitated. It was a black lined book. Those were meant only for the Master of Khurain. She couldn’t.
…could she?
After all, where was Misty? Mia ran off to the city. The next heir was only a thirteen year old girl. She’d just take a quick little peek, perform one teensy-tiny little ritual.
What’s the worst that could happen?
~~
“Eczema,” Doctor Hotti says.
“Eczema,” Phoenix repeats dubiously.
“A flare up. Make sure to rub this ointment into the skin three times a day.” He leers. “Get your cute little assistant to help out.”
Phoenix takes the jar of ointment and trudges out of the building without much enthusiasm. Damn his lousy healthy insurance. Idly he rubs at the front of his stomach through his shirt.
It’s a weird thing that just happens sometimes. It sure didn’t look like any eczema Phoenix had ever seen, but then it did always clear up pretty quick on its own in the past. It’s just that… it’s been almost three weeks since Iris Hawthorne’s trial and it’s not clearing up. If anything, it’s gotten worse.
Phoenix trudges up the steps to his apartment with a sigh, raising his head blearily to see someone waiting at the door. His back is turned to Phoenix so he has time to smooth out his dumb, too-happy grin into something just shy of lovesick when Miles Edgeworth turns around.
“I thought you were in Germany,” Phoenix says, shoving the ointment into his pocket hastily.
“I was,” Edgeworth answers mildly. “And now I am not.”
“Obviously,” Phoenix laughs. He unlocks the apartment door. “I’m surprised you came all this way - if you called me, we could have met at the office. It’s a lot closer to the airport.”
“I didn’t want to meet at the office.” Edgeworth leans back against the closed door, not following Phoenix further inside. “This isn’t a professional visit.”
Phoenix does grin now, bright and unguarded. “Yeah? Don’t tell me we’re at the stage of a casual visit. I might start to think we’re actually friends.”
Edgeworth rolls his eyes but stays where he stands. “That is what I have come to discuss. I find myself too anxious to bother with pleasantries, so I’ll get right to the point. I ask that you hear me out before responding in any aggressive or unexpected way.”
“Aggressive?” Phoenix slips off his coat jacket, hanging it up on the rack by the door mostly because Edgeworth is watching. “What do you mean? What are you going to say?”
“I’m telling you now. Wright, for some time now, I have been wondering - what is that?”
“What is what?” Phoenix asks, confused. His shirt has come untucked as he reached for a hanger, the slightest sliver of skin bared between hem and waistband. Edgeworth grabs him by the arm and pulls him close. With his other hand, he nimbly unbuttons the front of Phoenix’s shirt, and okay, wow, so this is happening-
Edgeworth stares at the patch of skin just above Phoenix’s belt buckle in a decidedly unsexy way.
“It’s eczema,” Phoenix says weakly.
“They’re scales.” Edgeworth drops the hem of Phoenix’s shirt back over the, okay, maybe sorta green, hard, overlapping plate-like skin of his abdomen.
“It just happens sometimes,” Phoenix says defensively, crossing his arms over his stomach protectively. “When I get really stressed, like in college or when Mia died. It clears up a little after I calm down.”
“Have you been unduly stressed as of late?” Edgeworth asks sharply.
“No. Well.” Phoenix hesitates. “Maybe. With Iris and everything.”
Edgeworth does a strange thing then. He closes his eyes and taps the fingers of his right hand against the door frame one at a time in quick success: ba da bump bump, ba da bump bump. Then he straightens and opens them again.
“Of course. You would be, wouldn’t you? Shall we pay her a visit?”
He opens the door and waits for Phoenix to shrug back into his jacket and shove his feet back into his shoes.
“Uh… I mean, I tried, but they wouldn’t let me see her until after her sentencing.”
“Yes, after Dahlia’s switch in the cave she’s considered a flight risk. That’s alright, I can get you in.”
“You can? You will? I mean…” Phoenix shakes his head, trying to think of what to say. Edgeworth continues walking down the stairs to his obnoxious red car. “H-Hey, wait up! What were you trying to ask me upstairs anyway?”
“Motion withdrawn,” Edgeworth says, starting the car. “Lack of relevance.”
~~
Wright and Iris make a very attractive picture together, Miles must admit to himself as he sits near the open doorway. Having exchanged his own set of pleasantries, he prepares to take his leave. It is the gentlemanly thing to do, and if he must lose, Miles insists on doing it with some grace at least.
“Wait, where are you going?” Wright asks, attention snapping over as soon as Miles cautiously rises from the squeaky plastic chair.
“To give you some privacy. The guards are under instruction not to interrupt, so you can take your time catching up.”
“Are you going home?” Wright asks. “Or to a hotel? How can I get a hold of you?”
“I will contact you again when I return again from overseas. Perhaps around the holidays.”
“Wait, what?” Wright stands abruptly. “You’re going back already? I barely got to see you! When do you fly out?”
“Presently,” Miles says, all-too-aware of the glowing trump card Wright keeps in his front pocket. The next available first class flight, as a matter of fact. What had seemed a romantic, impulsive gesture now has proved to be a foolish waste of resources. Serves Miles right for misconstruing the situation so abominably.
“What the hell?! I rushed over here because you said I should, now you’re gonna ditch me-”
“You were experiencing a physical reaction due to stress of separation, of course I was concerned-”
“Jesus, it’s just a freakin’ rash-”
“Those are scales,” Miles corrects him and Iris gasps. When the two men glance over, she is as white as a sheet.
“S-Scales?” Iris asks faintly.
“He’s exaggerating,” Wright says quickly. The reassuring smile he gives his ex-girlfriend is warm and encouraging and absolutely infuriating.
“Am I?” Miles asks pleasantly, then yanks Phoenix’s sleeve up to the elbow. “It’s spreading!” Sure enough, a light dusting of greenish-white scales scatter across Wright’s forearm.
Iris promptly bursts into tears.
~~
What Wright considered a mildly stressful situation often, in hindsight, correlated with a somewhat physically dangerous one. Every outbreak of the mysterious condition was followed with some kind of injury: eating glass, being assaulted, tasered, hit with a fire extinguisher…
“Dusky Bridge is really dangerous. I think maybe… since the injuries would have been so bad…” Iris’ eyes are huge and sorry and wet.
“Hey, it’s okay. You wanted to protect me, right? I guess… it worked? I mean I’m alive, so really I should be thanking you.” Wright grins with a mouth full of suddenly sharp, jagged teeth. Belatedly, he slams a hand over his open mouth to cover it.
“This is new, isn’t it?” Miles asks urgently. Wright nods. “What can we do? Can we reverse it?”
“He has to bathe in the waters of the Sacred Chamber in Hazakura,” Iris says urgently. “As soon as possible!”
“I understand,” Miles says grimly, grabbing Wright by the arm and dragging him toward the door.
“Be careful!” Iris warns. “Soon he won’t be able to speak or think rationally… it’ll be all animal instinct. You might get hurt.”
“Edgeworth, it’s too dangerous,” Wright says seriously. His voice is strangely rough. He blinks, and his pupils split and narrow like a cat’s. “I can’t let you do this.”
“Shut up and get in the car,” Miles snaps.
It’s a harrowing drive up the winding mountain roads. Wright pants like a dog in the backseat with the occasional groan and ripping of cloth. A dry, scaly tail thunks against the back of Miles’ seat. Claws dig into the upholstery.
“You are so incredibly fortunate that I am a fool for you,” Miles lectures the beast growling in back. “Else I’d replace that Italian leather with lizardskin.”
Fortunately for him, the transformation leaves Wright too weak to do much besides growl. Stopping the car by the bridge, Miles steels himself. With a tow rope from the trunk, he prepares himself for the fight of his life as Wright springs from the backseat toward him…
And promptly rolls over in the dirt, presenting his belly.
“Oh,” Miles says, pleased. “That’s… convenient.”
Wright is coaxed into the cave with a handful of beef jerky and a few head pats.
“You’re a good boy after all,” Miles says when they pause for a breather on the bridge. “This is a romantic view, when it isn’t a crime scene. A pity you have to settle for my company instead of Iris.” Wright licks his cheek with a raspy, reptilian tongue. “I’d like that better if you were human,” Miles sighs. “Come along, we’re nearly there.”
Wright is more skeptical of the water, but at a stern command, obediently jumps in to the cold deep pool of the sacred Chamber. He stays submerged for an alarmingly long time.
“Wright?”
A few bubbles rise to the surface, but nothing else.
“Phoenix?” Miles wades a little into the water, reaching out with his hands. Where could he have gone-?!
Suddenly, two arms drag him down into the depths. Miles struggles back to the surface where Phoenix stands, laughing.
“Sorry, sorry,” Phoenix says, hands up protectively as Miles splashes him violently. “I couldn’t help it.”
“I saved your life, and this is the thanks I get?” Miles shakes himself morosely.
“Thanks,” Phoenix says casually, leaning over to lick Miles on the cheek. Miles sputters, nearly falling over in surprise.
“You like it better now, right?” Phoenix’s eyes are sparkling.
“You understood me,” Miles realizes, covering his face. “You heard me say…”
“That you’re a fool for me? Cause the feeling’s mutual.” Phoenix eyes him innocently. It occurs to Miles suddenly that every stitch of Phoenix’s clothes are back in the car, lying on the floor in shreds.
“What do you say we get you out of those wet clothes?”