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The last thing you remember was the infernal screeching noise of tire skidding on asphalt. You didn't truly feel your body making contact with the harsh ground, and you couldn't possibly hear the buckets of pain spilling in front of the Kitaki household. Yet somehow, a twisted side of your brain reminded you with a snicker, this was not the first time you've come into contact, literally, with a speeding car. Your last thought, ironically, was of your daughter, who thankfully was the better of the Wright family at self-preservation.
------
"Mr. Wright...?"
A voice, gentle but deep, cut through the haze that surrounded you. You crack an eye open despite the dull ache in your skull and the first thing you notice was silver hair glowing under the stars. There was a young man leaning over you, but the full moon that shone behind him (combined with your swarming vision) made it hard to discern his features. Yet a very distant part of your memories screamed that you knew who it was, if you could only focus a little bit more without feeling nauseated.
"You are Mr. Wright, I assume?" the silhouette asked again, tentatively. "Are you injured? Can you stand up?" When you made no reply, the man began to rummage through his clothes, and the next thing you knew, the glowing display of his cellphone shone through the night, illuminating his face.
Your eyes must be playing tricks on you. Maybe you should look both ways before crossing the road next time, this really could not be happening.
"Mr. Wright? I'm calling an ambulance," the man declared as he tapped his phone.
Your hand shot up on instinct, snatching the device away with more dexterity than you should have had. "Stop it Edgeworth, I'm fine," you mumbled distractedly as you tried to sit up. You vaguely register the look of shock on his features, but soon his face was once more hidden from view, as he assisted you in your plight to disengage from the ground. Once settled comfortably against the wall, you take a few moments to breathe and to clear your head from the fog and the dizziness. "What time is it?" you finally ask.
"Just after seven in the evening, sir," the other answered. "We did not expect your visit until next month, Mr. Wright."
You take a good look at his face (it was Edgeworth alright), but instead of the usual furrowed brows and harsh jawline, you see concerned eyes and features that screamed an innocence your friend had lost since fourth grade. Must be your brain malfunctioning after... was it a hit-and-run accident or did you fall off a burning bridge again? You can't quite recall, and this was perhaps a bad sign for your physical (and mental) health. "What are you doing here, Edgeworth?" you ask instead, once the wave of nausea passed. "I can't imagine what the Chief Prosecutor is doing wandering alone at night in this part of the city." You tried to keep your voice even, but seven years of bitterness made it hard to keep the snide remarks at bay.
"I am a practicing defense attorney, Mr. Wright," Edgeworth replied, sounding mildly offended. "You are not well. Please return my phone so I may call an ambulance."
Just the memory of white sheets, IV fluids, and the smell of medicine were enough to convince you that the other's phone was best kept in your own pocket. You look at him once more now that your eyes have adjusted to the darkness, and this time it's the youthfulness of his features that startle you. Your eyes widen as the fact sunk in, and the world suddenly seemed to vacillate, like the shifting shards of a kaleidoscope. An entirely different image emerged, somehow, out of the same colourful fragments. The fog surrounding your thoughts completely dissipated, leaving you stranded, alone, in the middle of unknown waters.
This wasn't only impossible; this was beyond ridiculous. But then again, that's what you thought the first time you met Maya.
"Er..." you began hesitantly. "What year is it?"
Edgeworth shot you a disbelieving look. "We are in 2012, sir," he deadpanned.
"Right, I knew that." Actually, you did not. You were positive that the last case you handled (which was what, a week ago?) was in 2026. You were thirty-four at the time. You'd need a mirror to be certain of your appearance, but your aching back screamed that you were well past your younger, more virile years. It really couldn't be 2012. Last time you checked your only 'power' was Maya's magatama. You are not too sure how to deal with your new-found ability to time-travel.
"Mr. Wright?" Edgeworth asked, once the silence between the two of you began to stretch awkwardly.
Why did he insist on calling you that? You wanted to correct him, for even 'Wright' felt too formal outside of the courtroom, but as was your habit when it concerned Edgeworth, you held your tongue.
"If you persist on skipping the emergency room, perhaps we could return to my apartment?" the other offered.
His apartment? You haven't actually been inside his place, but the last time you stopped by his doorstep, it looked more like a luxury condo than an apartment. But since this was, technically, somehow, the past, you decided to play along. "Er, yes?" you answered awkwardly.
He supported you on his shoulders, which were narrower than you remembered. You were practically leaning over him so you didn't quite register his decreased height until later.
------
You were just making yourself comfortable on the couch when you heard the ringing of a set of keys outside the door. You have definitely heard a similar sound before, and it was only when the door burst open and a loud, jovial voice exclaimed "I'm here, Edgey!" that you were overcome with a sudden, intense feel of dread.
The addressed man (a boy still, now that you've done the math and concluded he's only twenty)flushed to his ears, his brows nearly colliding in a terrifying frown. "How many times have I told you not to call me that?!" he exclaimed, infuriated, as he stalked towards the door.
You heard a familiar laugh across the hallway, and you shudder to think that you had sounded so pathetic fourteen years ago.
"It was just a joke, Miles. I ran into Mrs. Oldbag on my way from class and I just had to try that."
"How old do you think you are?" Edgeworth growled. You could practically hear his embarrassment permeating through his voice. Perhaps Athena's powers were starting to become contagious.
"You know I'm the same age as you are, Miles. We've been friends since forever." Their voices were getting closer as they moved from the door to the living room, and you were suddenly overcome with the urge to hide.
"By the way, Phoenix," Edgeworth grumbled, still distraught at being addressed with a pet name, "your father's here."
You probably should have moved faster, fled out of the room, or at least hid in the closet. But the two figures had already turned the corner and now stood directly in front of you. The lights were turned on, and there was no mistaking the look of shock on your younger self's face.
"Er... hi?" you smiled awkwardly, one hand instinctively massaging the back of your head.
You didn't expect the silence that suddenly filled the room, but then again, you weren't exactly expecting to see a younger replica of yourself standing in front of you either. You took after your mother, physically, and no matter how stupid you had been in your youth, you could never pass for your own father. The Phoenix in front of you apparently thought so too.
"Miles?" he said, his eyes leaving you briefly in favour of his friend. "He doesn't look too well. Could you go get some painkillers for my, er, father?"
Edgeworth nodded as he shared a look of understanding with Phoenix, and swiftly walked to the door. You felt your heart clench at their obvious friendship. Where had you gone wrong along the line?
Once Phoenix was sure that his friend was away from earshot, he settled on the ground in front of you. "You are not my dad..." he began, his expression serious. You were just beginning to feel proud of your younger self for being less silly than in your memories when Phoenix brought a hand to the back of his head and grinned sheepishly. "...right?"
The urge to facepalm was strong, but you answered in the positive nonetheless.
"Okay, then who are you, exactly?" your younger self asked.
You were not sure if it was allowed in the rules of time-travel to reveal your identity to your past self. You answered "I'm a friend," just to be on the safe side.
To your utter surprise, Phoenix pouted. "Miles almost never brings friends to his apartment. You look way older than he is, so you can't blame me for not believing you."
Miles? You racked your memories of fourteen years ago, but all you remember was seeing 'Demon Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth' plastered all over the news. You recall first feeling elated at receiving information, any information at all, about your missing friend. Then the words 'demon' and 'prosecutor' sunk in, and the profound sense of disbelief you felt still taste bitter in your mouth to this day. You then began writing to him relentlessly, hoping, praying, wishing it were all a lie. But amidst the confusion and after all those years, never once did you call him by his first name. Of that you were positive.
"Miles?" you asked.
"Oh, yeah, my friend that just left," Phoenix clarified, his eyes brightening at the mere thought of Edgeworth. Your memories served you right: you practically wore your heart on your sleeves back in the days.
"...friend?" you dared to ask.
"Er... well, yeah," Phoenix grinned as colour rose to his cheeks. "We've known each other since fourth grade. You could say we're childhood friends, I guess. But we haven't seen much of each other lately, since he recently took his first case, and I'm busy with art school and stuff."
That reminded you. Edgeworth said he just became a defense attorney. You decided to ask Phoenix about that.
"Well, he always wanted to step into his father's shoes, you know? And he passed the bar just a few weeks ago and he's already got his first client! He and Miss Mia were both hired by the Edgeworth Law Office just recently. But that doesn't come as a surprise since Miles has always been at the top of his class."
One thing was clear at this point. This was definitely not the past as you remember it. Perhaps your ability just transcended time: you seem to have traveled to another dimension entirely. That, or you are just having a very, very bad nightmare.
"Er... so if you're not my dad, can you at least tell me your name?" Phoenix asked as you seriously began to panic. (Would you ever be able to return to your world/dimension/time?)
"My name is..." you hesitated. Was it wise to give out your true identity? What if this caused a glitch in whatever matrix allowed you to come here? You had to practice caution. "Er... I don't remember," you finished lamely. Phoenix shot you a half-disbelieving look so you hastily changed the topic with the one question that you burned to ask. "Where is Edge... I mean, Miles' father?"
"Mr. Gregory Edgeworth? He's traveling abroad to further his studies."
Well, that was unexpected. "What about Prosecutor von Karma? DL-6?"
"He was disbarred after Miles' father proved he used forged evidence in court. Then he was thrown in jail trying to murder Mr. Gregory. I have no idea what DL-6 is."
You tried to digest that information, but this was one of those things that were hard to swallow. "Could you tell me more about von Karma's attempted murder?" Maybe if you found the biggest discrepancy between this timeline and your own, you might be able to return home. Or at least that's what usually happened in those action movies.
"Well, it happened on a stormy day," Phoenix began. "Mr. Gregory invited us to attend one of his trials, the one where they convicted von Karma for his crimes. As we were leaving the courtroom, von Karma broke free from the bailiff and secretly followed us. We were just about to enter the elevator when he plunged toward Mr. Gregory with a gun. Then, the electricity suddenly went out and a flash of lightning lit up the room.
In that brief moment, Miles and I saw von Karma point the gun toward Mr. Gregory and then we heard the deafening sound of thunder. The shot wasn't fatal, and Mr. Gregory must have fought back because the gun suddenly fell to the floor. In his panic to save his father, Miles grabbed it at the next flash of lightning and threw it at von Karma, and it fired a second bullet. In the midst of all the confusion, I think Miles and I both passed out. Mr. Gregory was seriously injured after that incident, and although only one of the two bullets hit him, Miles somehow convinced himself that he was culpable."
Ironically, lightening lit up the small living room just as Phoenix finished his tale. You saw his expression shift from one of perfect ease into one of profound distress. Before you could blink, Phoenix was up on his feet and running through the hallway. You followed him, slower than you would have liked to be, but that was hardly surprising considering the lingering pain of your injuries.
Phoenix had just slammed the front door open when Edgeworth (or rather, 'Miles' in this dimension) stumbled through the threshold. The young lawyer dropped the bag of painkillers to the floor as soon as he closed the door and brought both arms to cover his ears. Phoenix immediately grabbed his shoulders, preventing Miles from curling into a ball on the floor. Outside, thunder roared as the skies wept.
"Miles? Miles, look at me," Phoenix cooed, voice suddenly devoid of his usual goofiness. "Your father is fine. That prosecutor is in jail. The storm will pass, I know you are stronger than this! You never did anything wrong, do you understand?"
Amazingly, you see Miles relaxing his fists and lowering them from his ears. His eyes were tormented as they gazed at your younger self, but you could see a streak of determination and courage amidst it all.
At the next boom of thunder, Miles instinctively grabbed onto Phoenix, cursing at his weakness, trembling in his arms. You bit your lip at the sight of your other self drawing soothing circles on his friend's back, whispering words of reassurance. It wasn't hard to understand that in this world at least, you had been there when he most needed help.
"Miles, listen to me," Phoenix continued. "I know we can't prove which of the two bullets hit your father. The ballistic markings were the same since it was the same gun, and the shooting distance was similar too so it's pointless to look at the traces of gunpowder. But I know you are not guilty. Remember when you defended me in that class trial? And when you helped Larry after Miss Mia found his girlfriend, Dahlia, guilty of murder? You were the one that rescued us when we were in need. Hence you are not the kind of person to harm others!"
"It wasn't intentional, but you can't rule out the possibility that I shot..." Miles began.
"I refuse to hear it! Mr. Gregory doesn't believe it, and I don't either, so why do you insist on being so pessimistic? In any case, Larry and I sapped all the unluck out of you, so you really shouldn't have any left."
To your utter surprise, Miles let out a choked laugh. "What does that even mean, Phoenix?" he asked.
Your other self grinned, his eyes full of so much sincere adoration you almost felt sick. "Well, you know. When something smells, it's usually the Butz. And when incidents happen, I'm usually the one injured."
"That's not something to be proud of," Miles deadpanned, but you could already feel him relaxing in spite of the storm.
It was hard to grasp that you had managed, somehow, to be there for your friend when he needed it most. In this timeline, Phoenix was there for Miles when Gregory Edgeworth took a fall. In this timeline, there were no unanswered letters, no demon prosecutors, no faked suicide notes, no loss of contact between the two of them. The two of you.
You were never one to feel regret. Even as you were disbarred, Trucy had been there to remind you to strive for a better future. But in this moment, try as you might, you could not shake the profound feel of shame, of bitterness, of jealousy at seeing those two together, never separated, supporting and protecting and defending as you should have done for your Edgeworth.
You never stopped believing in him. Yet in your world, you never dared take the next step into reconciliation. Edgeworth had been a savior, a friend, a ghost, a rival. You never dared pursue it further. The last time you opened up to him, he faked his own death and left the country to heal his wounds. Edgeworth had not developed the habit of relying on you. You hadn't quite forgiven him for that.
Despite your resentment, Edgeworth never stopped helping you from behind the scenes in the last seven years. Guilt pushed you to choose the easy way out. Burying your feelings and pretending to be content with your friendship outside of court and your rivalry in front of the judge was the safer option. The thin threads that tied you to Edgeworth were precarious enough. There were simply too many complications, too much bitterness for you to admit to having loved the man for the better part of your life.
"I'm fine now, Phoenix," Miles said, brows furrowed and head tilted to the side as he pushed your younger self away. "Thanks, but I wish you didn't have to see me like this."
"Miles... there's something I've been meaning to tell you," Phoenix suddenly declared, voice trembling in the dark.
Your heart clenched. You couldn't stay any longer, your heart was about to break in self-pity. To think that you were more determined at twenty years old than you are now. To think that the closure you had not even dared to hope for would be achieved in this moment, fourteen years in the past, in an alternate dimension that was probably a fabrication of your mind as you dreamed.
There was nowhere for you to run. You missed your opportunities and now regret was knocking at the door.
"I know this might complicate everything between us..." Phoenix continued as you watched helplessly, clenching your teeth and convincing yourself that crying at thirty-four years old over a guy you met in fourth grade was too shameful even for you. "...and you probably don't feel the same, but I have always loved you. As more than a friend."
Miles was silent. You were convinced that your heart screamed agony even louder than that of your other self.
"Miles?" Phoenix finally sighed, defeated. "Please say something. Throw me out of your apartment, hit me, but don't ignore me."
"Why?" Miles forced out, and your heart skipped a beat. "Why do you admit to all this now?"
You thought, up until this point, that the two had forgotten about your presence. However, in that moment, Phoenix stole a glance at you before answering his friend. "Because for a brief moment, I saw myself in someone else. And I did not like it at all."
Your vision suddenly blurred. The world spun, and you gracelessly tumbled to the ground. The fog had returned, and try as you might, you could not hear the answer Miles had given Phoenix after his confession. You sarcastically told yourself, as you felt your body fall to the ground, that even in an alternate universe, your would never truly understand the one person you seek to impress.
You blacked out.
------
"Wright...?"
A voice, gentle but deep, cut through the haze that surrounded you. You crack an eye open despite the dull ache in your skull and the first thing you notice was silver hair glowing under the stars. The smell of antiseptic and medicine were nauseating, and you found the white bed sheets more familiar than you would have liked. There was a man and a girl leaning over you, but you couldn't have mistaken them even in the dimly-lit hospital room.
"Daddy, you're awake!" Trucy cried, a little too loudly and a little too close to your ear considering your raging headache, but welcome nonetheless.
"Daddy's fine," you manage to grit out, despite the pain in your body, and you reached to ruffle her hair. "Sorry, I must look a fright, but there's really nothing to worry about."
"This is the second time you've been hit by a car, you know!" Trucy fumed, both hands clenched in annoyance. "Be more careful next time, I don't want to lose another daddy!"
You grin reassuringly at her and wipe her traitorous tears away. She looks at you exasperatingly before declaring that you needed to drink and eat, that she would force it down your throat if it ever became necessary, and promptly left the room in search of food.
You sigh as you turn to Edgeworth, standing awkwardly on the other side of your bed. You call his name, hesitantly, softly, but your voice cuts through the silent room and makes him jump. You are bestowed, although perhaps reluctantly, his full attention now, and you know that if you hesitate, the opportunity to be alone with the Chief Prosecutor again would dissolve into nothingness. Apollo and Athena were surely aware of your condition by now, and soon your room would be filled to the brim.
"Edgeworth... there's something I've been meaning to tell you," you start, your heart picking up, and the heart monitor you've been connected to laid all your feelings completely bare. Edgeworth now looked positively distressed, one hand moving to readjust his glasses over his nose bridge.
"Wright?" he asks, hesitantly.
You couldn't do it. Your mouth opens, but no sounds come out. Fourteen years was a wide gap. You had a daughter to care for now; he was the Chief Prosecutor. In the long-run, this was probably going to be detrimental to both your careers. Edgeworth had changed and so had you, and there was no way you could return to how you were in fourth grade. Besides, you were only having a nightmare, none of what you just witnessed was real, and there was no need to jeopardize everything you had done to reconstruct your friendship in the last few months over a silly dream.
In your distress, you turned away from Edgeworth. There, on the stand next to your bed was a magenta cellphone with a steel samurai key chain, a flip-phone that unquestionably belonged to Edgeworth, yet distinctively looked like a discontinued and old-fashioned model. You eyes widen in realization, and your fists clench.
The next time you open your mouth, your voice resonates through the room, clear and confident, and Edgeworth's flushed face is everything you ever hoped for.
--End--