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Last week, Dick Gumshoe had decided to play doctor for a coworker. No, it was a friend.
Naturally there would be some risk to being around a sick person, but contrary to Mr. Edgeworth's argument, Gumshoe was perfectly fine! Dick didn't even have any symptoms, and he wasn't surprised. His immune system had always been pretty hardy, and a warm cup of instant noodles was like modern-day snake oil, so he foolishly assumed that he didn't end up catching whatever bug Mr. Edgeworth had. His throat started to hurt Tuesday night, but he didn't think anything of it as he went to bed.
On one fateful Wednesday morning, at the wonderful hour of 8:00 AM, his alarm was blaring in his ears as he laid on his deathbed. Everything ached like no tomorrow, his bedsheets were all sweaty, and sitting up in bed was like trying to sit up in a pile of bricks. Dick rolled over to smack the snooze button and reach for his phone, groaning all the while, and dialed the Criminal Affairs Department.
"Gumshoe," the Chief said.
"Mor-" the detective pulled the phone away from his ear and sneezed at an unflatteringly loud volume that made his ears ring, "urrgh… Mornin', Chief."
"Jeez, you sound horrendous. I'm assuming you're calling to take today off?"
Gumshoe joked, "Was it that obvious?"
The Chief laughed dryly. "Yes, yes it was. Well, you go and rest up."
"Of course, sir," he leaned away from the phone to cough. "Thank you, thank you for understanding,"
"Tomorrow's another day, Gumshoe. Hope you feel better." Then, the call ended.
Dick would have gone back to sleep after being reassured that he wouldn't be fired for having poor communication, but there was one other person who he didn't want to leave in the dark. Lazily tapping away, he dialed the first number on speed dial.
It rang twice before a sigh came from the other line, no doubt belonging to Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth. "Detective."
"Good morning, Mr. Edgeworth. You, uh, remember last week, right?" He sniffled.
"When I had that cold?" A pause. "Wait, are you…" Dick laughed sheepishly, but it sounded more like a poor attempt at clearing his throat. "Part of the reason I didn't want you to take care of me is because you would also fall ill!" Mr. Edgeworth tutted.
Even though Mr. Edgeworth couldn't see it, Gumshoe made his sad kicked-puppy face. "I'm sorry, sir,"
"For what, exactly?"
"Y'know, not being there to help you out and all."
"Well, it is in everyone's best interests that you stay home, Detective," Edgeworth professed. "Besides, I feel guilty for making you sick…"
"It's alright, sir! It was completely out of your control, see," the detective coughed.
"...Give me 20 minutes."
Then, the line cut off.
Dick cocked his head to one side, confuzzled. He pulled the phone away from his ear to see Mr. Edgeworth had hung up on him.
Of all things, 'why 20 minutes ?' he questioned. It was his literal job to seek out the facts and make sense of them, so why couldn't he do it this time?
Maybe the fact that it was Mr. Edgeworth threw him off.
Or, maybe it was because he hadn't had any coffee yet.
Or (and this one's a little out there), maybe it was because his head felt like it was going to crack open like a piñata. Dick rolled onto his back, breathing as if he had run a marathon instead of making two short work-related calls.
Maybe he would just have to find out.
-
Roughly 20 minutes later, Gumshoe got the chills and forced himself to get some more clothes on to try and combat it. As he was slipping a white tank top over his head, a knock came at the front door. Dick slowly went out of his bedroom so as to not hurt himself, past the living room, and to the front door.
He looked through the peephole to see Edgeworth in his usual magenta suit standing on the other side with a plastic bag. Why was he here? Nonetheless, Dick fumbled with the locks and swung the door open a little too quickly.
As he walked inside, the prosecutor started, "I brought you some cold medicine, ginger ale, soup, and tea in case you preferred it over the soda."
"You didn't have to do all that, sir," Gumshoe said bashfully, fidgeting with the strap of his tank top. Suddenly, he felt much more underdressed than usual when compared to Mr. Edgeworth as he looked down at his 'pajamas', which consisted of the tank top and some grey boxers. In addition, the bandage on his cheek that he forgot to remove last night was peeling off. Mr. Edgeworth didn't seem to mind, however, and if he did he wasn't making it very apparent.
"I felt… Indebted to you," he reiterated, averting his gaze off to the left, "for being so kind to me last week."
As he locked the door, everything clicked into place.
Mr. Edgeworth had just gotten to the prosecutor's office, but after that call, he decided to turn back around and go to a grocery store. What he said during the call and what he had admitted just now proves he did it for Detective Gumshoe, to pay him back for taking care of Mr. Edgeworth the previous week.
The evidence never lies.
"Aw, thanks, Mr. Edgeworth…" the detective coughed as he wrangled a can of ginger ale out of the plastic rings.
"We're not at work. 'Edgeworth' is just fine." Miles stated flatly as he hung his suit jacket up on the coat rack.
"You got it, pal!"
As Dick turned to walk back to his bedroom, a hot flash hit him and the entire room began to spin around him. Groaning, he desperately gripped the worn red couch for some sort of support.
Miles rushed over and offered to help balance him. "Are you alright, Detective?"
"Just a little dizzy…" Dick grabbed his hand and flashed him a weak smile. "Don't worry about me. It ain't too serious, see."
"My current duty is to worry about you," The silver-haired man argued, "and if you'd let me, I'd appreciate that."
The detective was in no mood to fight back. "Whatever you say, pal,"
-
"Here, take this." Miles sat down on the bed, holding a dose of the cold medicine.
The detective whined, hiding himself under his well-loved wool blanket despite his fever. "Do I have to?"
Miles wasn't amused. "If you want to feel better, then yes."
"Fine, Dr. Edgeworth," Dick teased, easing himself into a sitting position and taking the medicine cup. He screwed his eyes shut as he brought it to his lips.
Out of sight, out of mind, right?
Wait, that didn't really apply here.
As soon as the medicine made its way onto his tongue, Dick cringed and made a strangled noise that was vaguely disgusted. The prosecutor fought back a grin from making its way onto his face at his childish reaction. "Yuck," the detective swallowed. "What flavor is that?"
"Cherry. Do you need anything else, Detective?" The prosecutor asked.
"I'm, uh…" Dick pondered. Edgeworth didn't have to do this, but he was here anyway, and Gumshoe didn't want to be more of a burden than usual. 'You're here, Mr. Edgeworth, and that's more than enough,' he wanted to say, though Miles was never good at responding to anything resembling affection. "I'm good, pal," he croaked, scratching the back of his head.
"I can prepare that can of soup," Miles offered, unconvinced.
"Oh no, it's fine," the detective started, only to be interrupted by his own stomach growling in defiance. "...Nevermind, then."
Miles chuckled as he stood up and adjusted his jabot. "Stay put. I don't want you to overexert yourself."
Dick saluted at him lazily. "Yes, sir!"
-
Only four minutes later, Miles found himself carrying a hot bowl of soup to Dick's bedroom. It may have seemed uncharacteristic of him to worry about another person, but 'another person' in this case was Detective Gumshoe, his partner-in-crime-solving who had stuck by his side for 3 years now. The fool who had foolishly gotten sick because of foolish Miles, to whom he had a debt to repay.
There was a quiet rumble on the other side of the bedroom door. The door opened with a shrill creak that caused Miles to tense up, but inside the room was Dick somehow already asleep, snoring up a storm.
He looked down disappointedly at the bowl in his hands, the yellow-tinted reflection of the perfect Miles Edgeworth gazing back at him.
It would just have to wait, then.