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Phoenix hasn't always hated fire.
In fact, some of his favourite childhood memories involve summer, s'mores that never came out looking quite right but were delicious nonetheless, and nights spent sitting around the bonfire with Miles, Larry, and Mr. Edgeworth. He remembers feeling like he actually belonged somewhere for once in his life. Nothing but the dancing flames to illuminate their smiling faces, no sounds to be heard but their combined laughter and the constant thrum of the nightlife around them, no haunting loneliness or screaming parents. Just Phoenix, his friends, and a sense of complete peace.
It's not often that he and Miles get a chance to spend an evening alone together like this, what with Trucy spending the night with Maya and Pearls in Kurain. It's nice to sit in the backyard like this - the two of them in their favourite lawn chairs, sharing a bottle of wine between them as well as company and conversation. A slight breeze parts Phoenix's hair and sweeps over his skin, just the right amount of cool to ease the balminess of midsummer.
And then Phoenix smells smoke.
Instantly, it feels like the faint yet acrid scent is coating the inside of his mouth, his throat, choking; he can't breathe, it's so thick. It wraps Phoenix up in its shroud and leaves his heart hammering behind his ribs, and - and it doesn't help that he doesn't even know where it's coming from -
Maya. Where's Maya? She was supposed to attend that intense training exercise with Sister Bikini in the temple across the bridge, wasn't she? How is she meant to cross back over if Dusky Bridge is on fire?
It's far too cold. She's not dressed for this weather, and the Sacred Cavern is sure to be icy this time of year, if Sister Bikini's description is to be believed. Maya is - she's in danger -
"Ph... nix? Phoen... ix, love, are... with me?"
Phoenix blinks, and for a moment, the haze clears.
It's the image of Miles that appears to him then, brows creased and lips downturned at the corners into a thin line of concern. The porch lights they'd put up last summer so Trucy could sit outside with them at night without being afraid cast his face in a warm yellow light, soft across the plane of his cheek and deepening the shadows beneath his glowing eyes. He's beautiful. He's always been so beautiful.
He can't tell if this Miles is real. He feels the smoke, the heat that chases it, closing in again.
"I thought you were in Germany," Phoenix croaks, because how the hell did Miles get here so fast? At this time of night?
Miles's eyebrows somehow draw even closer together and his lips part, looking particularly like someone who isn't quite sure they should be treading where they are. "I haven't been in Germany for quite some time," he says quietly, though just loud enough for Phoenix to hear. That's strange; whenever Miles speaks, it seems like the roar of the storm around them dies down, just a little. "I - I've been back in America for well over a year now, Phoenix. With you."
With me? Phoenix wants to say, but his voice just won't come no matter how hard he tries to speak. That's impossible. Unless I'm dreaming. Or dying. He thinks that maybe if he were dying, this would be a pretty nice thing to imagine before he goes.
But he can't be dying, because Maya is still stuck across the bridge in an icy temple. The bridge that is currently on fire. The icy temple that will surely become a tomb if he doesn't get over there quickly enough.
Despite not knowing if he can trust what he sees in front of him, Phoenix decides he has no choice. "I don't know how you got here so fast, but Miles, you have to help me."
Somehow, Miles's eyes widen even further. "I - help you? I mean, of course I'll help you, but - help you with what?"
"It's Maya." The smoke is stinging Phoenix's eyes now, leaving a trail of what feels like blistering burns in his throat the more he breathes in. His chest hurts something awful. Maybe he really is dying. "She's - it's - the bridge, she's across - the temple, she wanted to do this training exercise that Hazakura offers and she's not - she's going to freeze -"
The image of Miles says something, but Phoenix's ears are ringing too loudly for him to hear. All he can think is that he has to get out of here, he has to find Maya, he has to find - oh, God, Pearls, how could he forget about Pearls? She's only nine, and she's so small -
When Phoenix looks down at himself, stood up with no recollection of having done so, he is shocked to discover that not only is he not wearing his suit, he's also not ankle deep in freezing snow.
That's when he finally notices that the scene isn't appearing as it should.
There's no bridge. There's no Maya, stranded on the other side, shivering and huddled up trying to conserve her warmth as the flames disintegrate her only way back. There's no Pearls having followed after her cousin to make sure she was safe, there's no Iris having given him her hood so that he'll be safe, there's no Miss Deauxnim (Misty Fey, his mind corrects) to be discovered dead in the snow, there's no Dahlia coming to enact the final stage of Morgan's plan.
He's at home. With his husband. While their daughter is with Maya and Pearls, who are both safe, in Kurain Village for the night because she's been begging for another sleepover with Pearls for weeks now.
It's just the ache of smoke that lingers.
When Phoenix sits back down, numb from the top of his head to the tips of his toes, he slumps forward with his elbows on his knees and rests his head in his hands, his chest suddenly heaving. He can't tell if he's crying or if he thinks, somewhere, in the animal part of his mind, that he's still breathing in smoke. He can smell it, sure, but his clarity having returned enough to know that everyone is safe tells him that it's probably just one of their neighbours having a bonfire. Something that is completely normal to do in the summer, especially at night.
His cheeks are wet, though. He can feel it when the faint summer breeze scales his face.
"Phoenix?" Miles's voice is so, so soft, and so, so real. "Can I... is it alright if I touch you?"
He just nods. He finds he doesn't have the strength to do much else.
He's still thinking about dancing flames, obscuring his vision, his goal. He's still thinking about the splintering wood giving way beneath his feet and separating him from Maya, potentially permanently. He's still thinking of falling into a seemingly endless void of black and cold. He's still thinking of water shooting up his nose and down his throat, weighing him down as it soaks into his clothing, and wondering if this is how he's going to die.
But when Miles's hand settles upon his knee, so gentle it's like he's barely there, Phoenix begins to think about how safe he feels in the other man's company instead.
"'m sorry," he mumbles, letting out a sigh so long and deep it makes his lungs ache a little bit. His stomach feels concave, aching like there's absolutely nothing inside it - just not in a hungry way. The edges of his vision are still a little hazy when he dares to open his eyes. It makes the stomach ache worse when he does. "'s just - I - it was - it was..."
"Shh," Miles soothes him. "Shh, Phoenix, it's all right. You have nothing to apologize for. I need you to breathe for me now, though, okay? Can you do that?"
Can Phoenix do that?
Moving his hand off of Phoenix's knee, Miles takes hold of one of Phoenix's hands, guiding it to his chest while he very carefully places his own free hand on Phoenix's chest. They breathe like that together for several minutes, slow and steady, and Miles doesn't scold him when his breath keeps catching in the back of his throat and coming out in strained hiccups.
Phoenix can do that.
"There you go, that's it. Perfect." Phoenix likes it when Miles says stuff like that. "Can you breathe a little bit better now?"
"Yeah," Phoenix manages to croak. "Y-yeah. God, I'm sorry. I just... the smoke, y'know?"
For a moment, Miles looks terribly confused, his brows drawing together in that heavy line like they had earlier. Then, the storm of uncertainty clears, and suddenly Miles looks very, very sad. Why does he look so sad?
(Phoenix thinks to himself that maybe he's not quite as with it as he'd like to be yet.)
"Oh," he whispers. "Oh. Oh, Phoenix, I didn't even - I didn't even think of that, I'm so sorry. It's alright. It's just the neighbours having a bonfire."
"'s okay," Phoenix murmurs, shaking his head (though it's more of a sluggish sway than anything). "'s not your fault. Honestly, I... I didn't think it'd be that bad. Thought I'd mostly gotten over it by now."
"I don't think that's something someone ever really gets over," Miles offers quietly, and now that they've both taken their hands back, it's Phoenix who reaches out to tangle their fingers together. He needs it right now. "It makes perfect sense that it would still upset you, love. You don't think any less of me for still being too uncomfortable to use elevators, do you?"
Phoenix blinks, bewildered; why would Miles even ask him something like that? "What? No, of course not, why -"
"Then you shouldn't be so hard on yourself for still being upset when you smell smoke," Miles interrupts, though there's no scolding to be heard in his tone. "Scents in particular are very effective in bringing back memories. There's no shame in it, Phoenix, I promise. The same thing still happens to me sometimes."
In the back of his mind, Phoenix thinks, well, if it happens to Miles too, maybe it really is okay that I still get upset.
All at once, a wave of peace sweeps through him. It doesn't entirely diminish the panic - he thinks he'll probably still be feeling jittery for the next few hours or so, even if he takes a Vistaril - but it does douse the heat of it a little bit. Just enough for the haze behind his eyes to retreat.
"'kay," Phoenix murmurs, his voice hardly above a whisper. Now that he's calmed down just a bit, he feels incredibly tired. He could fall asleep right here if he doesn't get up.
"Do you want to go inside and rest, darling? We could also give Maya a call; I'm sure she's still awake, and I know she won't mind. Would that make you feel better?"
Phoenix lets out another long sigh, but this time it is one of pure relief. "Please," he hums. "'m sorry, I hope I didn't ruin -"
"Oh, nonsense." His husband leans over and pecks him on the cheek, chaste but no less loving. It leaves the skin feeling warm and fuzzy, a feeling that seeps in and flows through the rest of him. It's a very, very nice change of pace from the frantic panic that had flooded his veins only moments before. "You haven't ruined anything. Any time spent with you is valued time, you know that."
Phoenix grins. He does know that. He feels the same way, after all. "If you say so," he still has to say, because now that he's feeling a bit better, he can't help but want to tease his husband a little bit. "Will... will you sit with me while I call Maya, though? Please?"
And Miles grins back, beautiful and warm.
"Of course."
(Maya was in the process of getting ready for bed when Phoenix called, as it turned out, having gotten the girls to sleep and looking to do the same for herself. When Phoenix explained what happened, however, she was just as understanding as he knew she'd be. As Miles said she'd be.
"It's okay, Nick," she'd murmured, and he could hear the smile in her voice. "Sometimes I have dreams about it, too. That's why I call you in the middle of the night sometimes."
"Oh," he'd said eloquently, because yeah, they've talked about it before, but they're both also the types to not talk about it unless they have to. It makes perfect sense, because he'd also had dreams about it that made him feel like he just had to text her, or he wouldn't be able to fall back asleep. She usually responded as soon as he texted, but even if she didn't, she'd get back to him as soon as she could, and he'd do the same for her.
Either way, it's the final reassurance he needs to finally relax for the night. "I just... had to check, y'know," he'd offered sheepishly, though he was smiling, then. "Thanks, My. I love you."
"I love you too," she'd said instantly. "Go let Miles take care of you, dork. We're all okay here, 'nd I'll call you in the morning so you can talk to Truce and Pearly."
And when he falls asleep that night with his head in Miles's lap, his husband watching some reruns of Steel Samurai since it's late enough for them to air, he's no longer worried about dancing flames or cloying smoke.
He knows he's safe, and so are the people he cares about.)