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That night, I wandered down the path to the old courthouse, in south Japanifornia. Bombed and broken, windows shattered, and bodies stacked within, it had been removed from service, now a hollow shell of the place it used to be. The square outside was empty, save for a statue of Lady Justice.
10 years since my first ever trial had passed. It was right here, in this courthouse. Since then, I’d completed hundreds more, leaving prosecutors in my wake.
All but one.
All but Edgeworth..
He’d left me in his wake. Years ago, he’d committed suicide right here in this square. Late at night, he’d shot him self outside these courthouse doors.
Nobody saved him.
I never even had the chance to say sorry.
I never even had the chance to tell him my true feelings.
I never even had the chance to say goodbye.
I stroked the wooden courthouse doors, the color and gloss chipping. If you looked closely enough, you could still see the tiny splatter of Edgeworth’s blood near the bottom of the door.
That’s the last that was left of him. A splatter of blood on a chipping, abandoned courthouse door.
I’d never understand it, but that’s what he wanted. To be forgotten.
The courthouse door squeaked as I swung it open, unleashing a cloud of dust onto me.
Other than the visible damage done by the bombs, nothing had changed. The same red carpet that lined the hallways, though faded, still lay on the ground, making the lonesome, empty place, feel more homey.
I wandered through all the defense lobbies, seeing all the memories I’d left behind.
Upon reaching defendant lobby 2, I stopped and looked inside. Nothing had changed at all.
The same grotesque looking painting in the background, the strange yellow and orange color combination, and the red couch made me feel, for the first time, at home.
All of a sudden, a wave of memories overcame me and I felt dizzy and nauseous. This was the last place I ever saw Edgeworth. He’d thanked me for my defense, written out a check, and walked away.
Sitting there, in the middle of all my memories, my sorrows, and my losses, I allowed myself to cry.
Blinded by my tears, my vision blurry, I stumbled into the courtroom.
This room was destroyed almost beyond recognition. However, I, at that point, drunk with sorrow, stumbled towards the defense desk and stared out at the crumbling ruins of the place that I used to love.
I looked out at the prosecutor’s bench. That’s where Edgeworth should be standing.
I looked out at the defendant’s chair. That’s where Edgeworth sat when he was declared Not Guilty.
I looked out at the gallery. That’s where Edgeworth sat to watch his father’s trials.
Edgeworth should’ve been here with me.
Behind me, I heard footsteps, slow, steady, and crisp.
I whirled round, still blinded by my tears.
Before me stood Edgeworth, red suit, cravat, and stoic grey eyes all signifying of his appearance.
“Hello, Wright. It’s been a while,” he calmly said, staring back at me with his deep grey eyes.
“Edgeworth,” I whispered, barely able to speak. “I’ve missed you.”
A smile cracked onto his face.
“I’ve missed you too.”
That night, standing in the broken, shattered courthouse, searching for the simplest things, I didn’t care if it was just a hallucination. I followed Edgeworth all through the courthouse, reminiscing upon all our old memories, until we came back to the defense bench.
Just as quickly as he got here, he was gone, as if faded out of existence.
“And I’ll keep missing you,” I murmured into the empty air. In that moment I could have sworn I felt a gentle breeze grazing the back of my neck.
“One day we’ll meet again, Edgeworth, I promise,” I say as I walk out of the courthouse and into the night.