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An Excerpt from Ace Attorney Investigations: Miles Edgeworth

Episode 3 – The Kidnapped Turnabout:

Kay Faraday: “So which is it!? Have you guys not decided if you’re going out, or is it just one-sided?”

Miles Edgeworth: “‘Decided’…? Shouldn’t the parties involved naturally just know…?”

November 16th, 2028

Chocolate Cosmos Café

Outdoor Seating Area

A few months after Ellen Wyatt’s trial, Phoenix’s apartment building announces that all residents must vacate within the next two weeks.

“It’s completely ridiculous! That’s the barest minimum number of days for an eviction notice!” Phoenix tells Edgeworth over lunch between bites of his sandwich. They are sitting at their usual table at their favorite cafe – a small place located roughly halfway between the Wright Anything Agency office and the prosecutors’ offices. “Giving only two weeks notice should be illegal. I should sue them. If I do, you need to be the prosecutor at their trial. That way I know they’ll lose.”

They’ve been having their lunch breaks together more often nowadays. It’s nice. It reminds Phoenix of when he’d visit Edgeworth in Germany during the years he didn’t have his badge – helping Edgeworth read through case files over coffee, sometimes staying up long into the night reading together, side by side on the couch. As tough as those years were for Phoenix, he thinks back on those memories very fondly – how they had grown more comfortable around each other, how conversations became easy and silences stopped being awkward.

“And what makes you so certain I’d win, Wright?” Edgeworth replies, putting his teacup back down in its saucer. “Are they truly guilty of something, or are your personal feelings clouding your judgment?”

“They are guilty of inconveniencing me.”

“Which is, unfortunately for you, not illegal.”

“God, why’d you have to become so nice?” Phoenix tries to maintain his jokingly-serious tone, but his mouth betrays him as he cracks a smile. “I could really use you handing out one of those ‘guilty-no-matter-what’ verdicts now. I miss when you were an asshole.”

“Oh really now?” Edgeworth raises an eyebrow and smiles slyly. “Well then, if that’s the case, you should’ve minded your business and stayed in art school.”

Phoenix laughs abruptly, almost choking on his coffee. “Oh, shut up.”

“Why do all the residents need to vacate anyway?”

“Something about the building’s foundation getting messed up somehow? I don’t know the details. I just know that they can’t do the construction to fix it with everyone still living in the building – too dangerous. And the construction is gonna take a while, so it’s not like I can just stay in a hotel for a couple weeks or something. All the residents need to just leave.”

“That’s a shame. Your current apartment is definitely the nicest I’ve seen you have – but the bar isn’t very high when compared to some of your past living spaces.”

“Ha ha.” Phoenix crosses his arms, but smiles at Edgeworth’s teasing.

“Have you looked into any new places yet?” Edgeworth sips his tea as he listens to Phoenix’s reply, maintaining eye contact.

“Yeah, me and Truce have been looking around together, trying to find something we both like. It’s difficult, though. Since we’re being evicted with such short notice, it’s hard to find a place in our budget that’s available within the next two weeks.”

“I can imagine.”

“Plus, we wanna choose somewhere actually good, y’know? We don’t wanna just settle for whatever place happens to be available. But the time limit is adding so much pressure.”

Edgeworth puts his tea down, meeting Phoenix’s eyes. “You and Trucy could stay with me until you find a new place, if you’d like.”

Phoenix almost chokes on his coffee again. “Wha—! Miles, no, it’s alright. You don’t have to—”

“It wouldn’t be any trouble. I have plenty of space. Besides, it would be just like when you two would come visit me in Europe.”

“But those were just visits!”

“It won’t be so different. Sometimes you’d stay with me for the whole summer.”

“Still, we would have a set date for when we’d have to leave. This is… I don’t know when we’ll finally get a new place—”

“Wright, I really don’t mind.” Edgeworth’s face is completely serious. “If you don’t want to, that’s your decision. But don’t convince yourself that you’d be intruding. You wouldn’t be. I’m voluntarily offering this.”

Phoenix goes silent, looking down into his coffee cup, deep in thought. “…I’ll consider your offer, then. I’ll have to ask Trucy. But you really don’t have to do this.”

“I know I don’t have to. But I want to. Is that so hard to believe?”

“It shouldn’t be. Not anymore.” Phoenix can’t help but let out a weak laugh. “It’s just… You’ve done so much to help me already. At some point, I can’t keep accepting your help.”

“Why not?” Edgeworth shrugs. “It’s only natural that I’ll be here to help you. We are…”

He trails off, and there’s a moment where his and Phoenix’s eyes meet.

Phoenix raises an eyebrow at him – asking the silent question that has rested between them for years.

“…Friends,” Edgeworth curtly finishes his sentence, his eyes flicking away. “Friends help each other, don’t they?”

Their table is silent for a moment as Phoenix hesitates. But eventually, he concedes. “Right. I’ll… I’ll talk with Trucy.”

“Good.” Edgeworth picks up his tea again. “Call me once you’ve made a decision.”

>>: Now loading… Do not touch the power button…

>>: [MASON System] is operational.

>>: Initiating [PAST] sequence…

>>: Initiation complete. Accessing [PAST]…

April 22nd, 2019

Phoenix Wright’s Apartment

Three days.

It had been three days since Phoenix had been stripped of his badge. Three days since his life had come crashing down around him.

He was not doing well. He didn’t bother hiding that fact to himself. Ever since the trial, he felt like he was living on the edge of a potential panic attack that could pounce on him at any moment. He hadn’t been sleeping well, or eating well, or… being well.

He hadn’t shaved. Stubble was clearly visible on his face for the first time in years.

He had no job. No livelihood. No back-up plan. He had ruined his name and everything he had built – and worse, he had ruined Mia’s name and her legacy.

He had nothing. Nothing but his shitty, cramped, one-bedroom apartment that was not suitable for housing the little girl that had fallen into his hands.

A little girl that needed to be fed and taken care of.

He can barely take care of himself.

No job. No livelihood. No back-up plan.

What is he going to do? What is he going to do?

The doorbell rings.

Phoenix hears it, acknowledges it in his mind, but does not move from his slumped seat on his ratty old couch – the couch he’s been sleeping on for the past three days. Like hell he’d make that poor girl sleep on the couch. No, Phoenix has been letting her steal his bed for the time being while he sleeps in the living room. That’s the plan until her father comes back, or until some other family comes to claim her.

Not that Phoenix has found anyone else in her family.

His mind keeps spiraling, the overwhelming dread and anxiety roiling in his gut like a storm.

No job. No money. No support. No way he can make it out of this.

He’s used to bluffing his way to victory, but this isn’t a courtroom. He has never felt so helpless, so weak, so afraid in his entire life.

What is he going to do?

“Mr. Attorney?” The little girl – Trucy, her name is Trucy – is sitting beside the window that looks out over the front entrance of the apartment building. “The doorbell is ringing. Someone wants to be buzzed in.”

“Yes, I— I hear it, Trucy.”

“I saw a man enter the building right before the doorbell rang. He must be the one who’s trying to come up to see us.”

She’s very observant for an eight-year-old, Phoenix will give her that. “It’s probably just another reporter. Just ignore him.”

She nods, then turns towards the window again.

The doorbell is rung a second time, then a third time. A fourth. Phoenix takes a pillow from the couch and covers his head with it. Damn reporters coming to his home during the darkest moment of his life to ask for an interview, to ask for a statement on the matter, to try and snap a photo of his unshaven face. This reporter seems to be very persistent. Most of the others give up after only two or three doorbell rings.

Finally, the apartment is quiet again as the dreaded ringing stops. Phoenix manages a sigh of relief, the pillow still over his head.

After a moment, Trucy pipes up again. “Hm. The man who entered the building hasn’t come back out yet. Maybe he knew someone else in the building and they let him in instead?”

“God, I hope not,” Phoenix groans. Leave it to this persistent reporter to have connections to other people living in his building.

Silence again. Phoenix feels bad for the girl. He’d like to be better company for her, but he is in no state to even fake a smile, let alone fake a pleasant conversation.

The memory of Mia’s voice rings through his mind – “For lawyers, the worst of times are when you have to force your biggest smiles!”

Phoenix groans to himself again. He’s a complete failure. He ruined Mia’s legacy, and now he can’t even bring himself to follow her advice.

Whatever. He’s not even a lawyer anymore anyway. That advice doesn’t apply to him anymore.

“The man’s car is nice.”

Trucy’s words snap Phoenix out of his ever-spiraling thoughts. He pulls the pillow off his head, his eyebrows furrowing. “What?”

“The reporter man who rang the doorbell. I saw him park his car in one of the parking spaces up front.” Trucy actually sounds cheerful. “Even if he’s annoying us, I’ll admit he has a nice car. It looks expensive. Very shiny, and red!”

Phoenix’s heart drops.

“No—” His scared, whispered voice slips through his lips unbidden.

He’s so absorbed in his mind that he doesn’t see Trucy turn to look at him. “Mr. Attorney?”

Phoenix bites the inside of his cheek – stopping the stream of ‘Fuck! Shit! Goddamnit!’ from leaving his mouth. He doesn’t want to curse in front of this child. Instead he just makes a frustrated sound as he stands up and starts anxiously pacing around the living room.

“I should never have given him that emergency key,” he spits the words out like poison.

What is he going to do?

There is nothing he can do. His entire life has fallen apart, and now that man is going to have front row seats as he hits rock bottom.

There is a knock at the door.

Phoenix stops pacing, freezing in place. He turns to Trucy and presses a finger to his lips, hoping to convey how serious this is through his eyes. Trucy gets the message and nods, making a zipping and locking motion across her mouth.

There is another knock.

This time, followed by a voice.

His voice.

“Wright?”

Phoenix doesn’t dare make a sound. If there is no response, that means no one must be home, and then he’ll leave, right?

“Wright, I know you’re in there. I can see light coming through the cracks around the edge of the door.”

Phoenix’s hands ball into fists. Why do you have to be so smart? Why do you have to be the greatest prosecutor in the world?

He stays silent.

He hears a sigh behind the door. “Please, Wright. Let me in. I want to speak with you. I… I want to help.”

The worst of times are when you have to force your biggest smiles!

Phoenix summons up the very last of his emotional energy to force a smile onto his face. “Trucy,” he whispers, “I’m gonna ask you for a bit of privacy. Could you please go into the other room? This should only take a moment.”

Trucy nods, then scampers off in the direction of the bedroom.

Phoenix takes a breath, then walks over to the door, his hand pausing on the doorknob before finally twisting it open.

There, standing in the hallway, is Miles Edgeworth.

(His hair is dark, not too gray – not yet. And he hasn’t started wearing his glasses yet either. When Phoenix thinks back on this memory, he notices how tired Miles’s eyes had been, how ragged he had looked in the doorway in front of him. At the time, Phoenix was too ragged himself to notice. But looking back, he sees the full picture – sees how worried Miles was. Worried for him.)

“Hey Edgeworth! So good to see you!” Phoenix’s voice is painfully fake. “That’s so nice of you to wanna help, but no need. Everything’s fine.”

“Wright, if you expect me to believe that, you are an even bigger fool than I thought.” Edgeworth’s gaze is intense, his voice low and clipped – no nonsense, no time for Phoenix’s empty reassurances.

“Think what you will, but trust me, I’m fine,” Phoenix leans against the doorframe, blocking Edgeworth’s view into his disheveled home. “And I’m also, in fact, really busy at the moment. Looking for jobs, new apartments, y’know? So maybe we can catch up some other time. Besides, aren’t you supposed to be supervising some big case in Germany? What’re you even doing here?”

“I gave the case to someone else. I flew back here as soon as I heard the news – which I had to find out from the newspaper, because someone didn’t call me to tell me what had happened! Sorry I’m late, by the way. It took a little while for the news to reach Germany.”

(Thinking back on it, Phoenix doesn’t remember any time before this that Miles had looked this dead serious – so determined, like he was on some kind of destined mission.

Phoenix was foolish to ever think he could stop him.)

Phoenix scoffs. “Late? Please, it’s only been three days.”

“I would have been here instantly if you had called me.”

That – that causes Phoenix’s fake smile to falter for a moment. Since when do you tell me such genuine things like that? “But as I said – there’s no need. I’m fine, Edgeworth. I appreciate your concern, but I’m okay. Now, please leave.”

“Stop lying to me. Let me inside.”

“No.” Phoenix hates how desperate, how scared his voice sounds.

“Wright, Please.”

“No.”

“Wright—”

“Leave me alone, Edgeworth—”

“Three years ago you came to me and said ‘let me defend you’! ” Edgeworth actually raises his voice.

That finally silences Phoenix. His mouth gapes open, trying to force a rebuttal out of his mouth, but nothing comes.

“Three years ago I was too proud to accept your offer as my attorney,” Edgeworth continues. “I told you to go away. I told you to leave me alone. I didn’t want you to see me in the state I was in.”

Phoenix closes his mouth. He tightens his jaw.

“But no matter what I said, did you give up on me? Did you ever leave me alone?” Edgeworth’s eyes burn with purpose – a single-minded determination to reach his goal. “No. You defended me. You fought for me. You defeated Manfred von Karma for me. You were there for me when no one else was.”

Phoenix can feel himself coming apart. Three days worth of intense emotions stir in his throat and weigh heavy behind his eyes. His shoulders fall, no longer tense and arched up like a defensive cat. He has lost his hold on his last fake smile.

“So if you think for a second,” Edgeworth spits the word out like a curse, angry, like he’s offended Phoenix would even suggest such a thing, “that I would not do the same for you, then you are, as I said, a fool. A blind fool with more pride than I had three years ago – which I believe is an impossible amount of pride.”

Phoenix is unraveling. He can feel his hands beginning to shake. He is coming apart at the seams.

“Wright, can I please come in?”

But he is so tired of holding himself together.

“Miles.” Phoenix exhales his friend’s name, and he hates how desperate it sounds – how close to tears it is. He reaches out blindly, unthinking, wanting something, anything. “I— I-I don’t know— I don’t know what—”

“We’re going to figure this out, okay?” Miles puts a hand on Phoenix’s shoulder to steady him and looks him directly in the eyes. “We are going to figure this out, and we are going to fix this. I promise you.”

The steady, solid hand on his shoulder is the last straw.

Phoenix crumples forward against Miles and sobs.

“Miles, what am I going to do ?” Phoenix says in a frantic whisper into Miles’s shoulder. “I-I— I’m ruined! If the news reached you, then all of Europe knows by now! Maybe even the whole world! ”

He feels Miles go tense at the sudden physical contact, but then slowly relaxes again. He feels Miles’s hand on his back.

“I’m— I’m here, Wright.” Miles’s voice sounds stilted, the comforting phrase so foreign in his mouth. But he recovers, and that unflinching tone returns. “We’re going to fix this.”

“I didn’t know! ” Phoenix cries out the phrase he’s wanted to scream for three whole days. His voice is wet and broken. He sounds so weak. It disgusts him. Oh god, what is wrong with him? What has become of him? “I-I didn’t know that— that it was forged. That the damn thing was fucking forged! Please, you have to believe me—”

“Of course I believe you,” Miles quickly says. Again, he sounds offended that Phoenix would even suggest the notion. “I didn’t doubt that for a second since the moment I heard the news. I know you’d never do something like that.”

“B-But now everyone— everyone in the whole world thinks I’m a fraud—”

“Not everyone. Not me.”

Phoenix lets out a particularly heavy sob. He doesn’t know if it's in relief at Miles’s words, in anguish at what his life has become, or if he just needs to let out the emotions he’s been bottling up for three days.

He lets out a shaking exhale. His next words sound like he’s grieving.

“I’ll— I’ll never stand in a courtroom again.”

He feels Miles shake his head. “Wright, you need to calm down. I told you, we’re going to fix this. I promise. We’re going to get your badge back, no matter how long it takes. Let’s go inside now, alright? Let’s sit down, and you can tell me exactly what happened, from your point of view.”

Phoenix hesitates, but he eventually nods and peels himself off of Edgeworth. In doing so, he realizes exactly what he’s just done. Edgeworth has never been a touchy-feely person. “Sorry, I— I shouldn’t have—”

Miles waves away his words. “Quiet, Wright. I said go inside.”

“I— Okay.” Phoenix shuts up. Better to not dwell too much on his shows of weakness and just move on. He turns around and walks inside. Miles follows him, closing the door.

It is at that moment that Trucy decides to pop out from her hiding place behind the couch.

“Mr. Attorney, who’s this? He doesn’t seem like a reporter.”

“Trucy—!” Phoenix quickly wipes the stray tears from his cheeks. “I thought I told you to go—”

“Wright, why is there a child in your house?”

Phoenix turns to look at Miles, who is staring at the little magician with wide, confused eyes.

Phoenix takes a deep breath. “Zak Gramarye’s daughter,” he answers. “Gramarye, he— God, you’re not going to believe this. He—”

“He disappeared. I read it in the paper,” Edgeworth says. “So you just… took her home?”

“She had nowhere else to go.” Phoenix then lowers his shaking voice, speaking closer to Miles’s ear so Trucy won’t hear. “I’ve been looking into her records and she— she has no other family. I can’t just abandon her, but I can’t— I can’t raise… Miles, I barely have enough money for myself, and now—”

“O-Okay. Breathe.” Edgeworth is clearly stunned at the information he’s just obtained. He lowers his voice to match Phoenix’s volume. “We’re going to figure this out. We can figure this all out—”

“Hello??? Will anyone tell me who you are, mister?”

They both turn to Trucy again. There is a beat of silence.

Phoenix clears his throat and tries to settle his emotions back down again. “Trucy, this is Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth. He’s— He’s my friend.”

>>: [MASON System] operational.

>>: Initiating [PRESENT] sequence…

>>: Initiation complete. Accessing [PRESENT]…

December 3rd, 2028

Miles Edgeworth’s LA Apartment

Living with Edgeworth has become so normal.

Phoenix and Trucy moved in just two weeks ago, not long after Phoenix’s conversation with Edgeworth over lunch at the café.

And yet, living together has already become so normal.

Edgeworth was right. It’s just like all the times when they would visit him in Germany, or France, or whatever country in Europe he happened to be prosecuting in that month. But this time, they get to live in Edgeworth’s large LA apartment. It’s almost as big as a penthouse apartment, only it’s on the third floor – he refuses to live on the higher floors, not wanting to use the elevator. The apartment has three whole bedrooms; Edgeworth’s master bedroom, and two guest rooms. Trucy unpacked her bags in one guest room, while Phoenix unpacked his bags in the other.

They fell into the same routines they had grown to have in Europe – sharing their mornings together, eating dinner together, watching movies or TV together when their evenings were free.

It was everything Phoenix could have wanted. Himself, his daughter, and his… Miles, all under the same roof. It felt so right, so perfectly natural.

So much so, that some days Phoenix forgot to check for apartment listings online.

Sometimes it was hard to remember this was just temporary.

That morning, Phoenix groggily wakes up to the sound of his alarm. He reaches blindly over to the bedside table, hitting the empty wooden surface a couple times before finally finding the digital alarm clock. He smacks the top of it, silencing it. He rolls over onto his back, groaning slightly.

He is alone in the guest room’s large bed.

He misses the warmth of… memories, from a few years ago.

He rubs the sleep out of his eyes and drags himself out of bed, walking out into the hallway.

Miles is already in the kitchen, still wearing his pajamas – soft cotton pants, and an old Steel Samurai t-shirt. The first time Phoenix saw him wearing clothes like this, he couldn’t believe it, but now it’s something he’s lucky enough to say he’s grown used to.

“Good morning, Wright.” Edgeworth is sitting on a stool next to the kitchen island, drinking tea from one of his fancy teacups. The pale yellow light of the sun streams in through the tall windows, illuminating against his skin and catching on the dust floating in the air. He has his glasses on, and his pale gray hair is still disheveled from lying against his pillow, not yet combed.

It is a beautiful sight – one Phoenix wouldn’t mind waking up to everyday.

“Morning, Miles.” He steps into the kitchen, still groggy. The room is quiet, peaceful, in the way that early mornings are – where even just speaking feels intimate, and using a low, soft voice is all that’s needed to be heard. “How did you sleep?”

“I slept well, thankfully.” Edgeworth puts his teacup down. It clinks against its matching saucer. “Your coffee’s ready to be poured, by the way.”

“Ah, thank you.” The tile floor is cold against Phoenix’s feet as he crosses the room over to the countertop, where there’s a full French press and a sunflower-patterned mug. He presses the filter of the French press down, chuckling a bit to himself. “I still can’t believe you’ve got me using your fancy coffee device.”

“I refuse to have one of those ugly machines in my house,” Miles shoots back, but there is no heat in his quiet voice. “Especially since I barely ever drink the stuff.”

Phoenix pours the coffee into the mug. “Why do you even have a French press then?”

“For guests, of course.”

“For me, you mean.” Phoenix puts his elbows onto the kitchen island and leans over, across from where Miles sits. His sleeves are rolled up, exposing his forearms. He smirks as he takes the first sip of his coffee, maintaining eye contact. “I know Franziska only drinks tea.”

“I have more guests visiting me than just you and Franziska.”

“Oh yeah?” Phoenix is still smirking, still staring. “Does the prosecution have any evidence to support that claim?”

“You should know, Wright.” Edgeworth gains a devilish smile of his own, the same one he wears in the courtroom. “Franziska doesn’t always visit alone.”

“Ah, but Maya doesn’t drink coffee either. Not anymore.” Phoenix takes another sip. “As Master of the Kurain Channeling Technique, she’s had to give up many mortal vices – coffee, alcohol, etcetera. Thankfully not burgers – I don’t know how she’d survive.”

“Yes, the defense makes a good point.” Edgeworth holds his arms out, shrugging. “But it does nothing to refute my claim. I was not aware of Maya’s coffee abstention when I bought it, and so my point remains that my intention was for it to be used by the both of you, and any other coffee-drinking guests I happen to invite over.”

“Alright, alright,” Phoenix says with a laugh. “You win. But still, no matter your intentions, in the end I am the only one who ever uses it. It’s basically mine.”

“If it’s that important to you, Wright. Sure.”

A satisfied grin spreads across Phoenix's face. He takes another large sip from his mug.

“How did you sleep?” Edgeworth asks.

Phoenix perks his head up, still drinking. “Hm?”

“You asked me how I slept. How about you?”

“Mm, yes.” Phoenix takes his elbows off the countertop and suddenly finds the walls to be very interesting to look at. “I slept fine.”

“Your room is still alright? Anything I can get you?”

Phoenix thinks back to old memories – the warmth against his skin, his face in the crook of Miles’s neck—

“Nope. The room is great,” he answers. He is still looking away, off to the side. If he was wearing his beanie, its thick knitted fabric would be obscuring over his eyes. “Just perfect.”

“Good.” Edgeworth drinks his tea. “If you need anything, just ask.”

“No, you help me too much.” Phoenix goes back to teasing. “You’re not allowed to help me anymore. Not until I do something for you in return.”

“Nonsense, Wright,” Edgeworth says, waving his hand to dismiss Phoenix’s words. “You don’t need to do anything in return. You’ve already done so much for me.”

Phoenix can’t help but snort a laugh. “I definitely have not.”

“You have. You saved my life.”

Phoenix looks up at him, not expecting how genuine Edgeworth’s voice had sounded. His eyes flick away, sheepish. “Oh please, that was— that was twelve years ago now. You’ve done so much more for me since then.”

“You have no idea how much you’ve done for me, Wright.” Edgeworth wears a sly, secretive smile as he drinks his tea. “Just accept my help, won’t you?”

Phoenix huffs a quiet scoff, but concedes. “Yeah, yeah. Okay.”

There is then the sound of light footsteps approaching, followed by a yawn.

“Good morning.” Trucy steps into the kitchen, dressed in blue pajamas.

Phoenix and Edgeworth both respond at the same time – “Morning, sweetheart.” “Good morning, Trucy.”

“Is breakfast ready yet?” She drowsily walks over to them, then groans when she sees no food on the kitchen island. “I’m hungry.”

“You want pancakes?” Phoenix asks, leaning down on the counter again. His eyes crinkle as he smiles, his soft voice full of love and fondness. “We haven’t had pancakes in a while.”

Trucy grins. “Pancakes sound great!” But then her grin falters, her eyes flicking over to Edgeworth. “Well, I dunno. Sometimes you make a mess when we make pancakes, Daddy. I don’t wanna make a mess in the kitchen.”

“No no, please.” Edgeworth gestures toward the stove. “I trust your father will be extra careful since he’s using my stove,” he says pointedly. “Right, Wright?”

“Of course! Not to worry, Edgeworth. I will be very careful,” Phoenix says with all the confidence in the world. He turns away and looks through the cabinets. “Now, where did I put the pancake mix?”

“In the meantime Trucy, would you like some coffee?” Edgeworth offers. “Your father seems to be convinced that he’s the only one here who drinks it.”

Before Trucy can answer, Phoenix speaks up from across the room. “Miles, it’s not good for kids to drink coffee at such a young age.”

“Dad, I’m seventeen,” Trucy responds with a laugh, putting her hands on her hips.

“Seventeen?! No way!” Phoenix says with pretend-disbelief. “I swear it was only yesterday that you were just a little baby in my arms.”

Trucy laughs again, harder this time. The sound is louder than the low voices they had been using in the peaceful quiet of the morning, but Trucy’s laugh is as sweet and pleasant as chiming bells. It is a welcome sound. “You didn’t know me as a baby!”

“Semantics. Metaphors and such,” Phoenix answers, still looking through the cabinets. “There we go! Found it.”

Trucy’s laugh trails off. She turns back to Edgeworth. “I don’t really drink coffee anyway. I never feel like it affects me, so I just don’t bother drinking it. Thank you, though.”

Edgeworth gestures with his teacup. “Would you like tea instead?”

“Oooo! Yes, please!” Trucy smiles. “I love using your fancy teacups! They make me feel like some kind of old-fashioned Victorian noble.”

“Actually, I think you’ll be interested to discover that most of my teacups are designed based on historical Edwardian examples…”

Edgeworth continues to go into details as he stands up to make more tea, while Trucy listens carefully – always interested in what Miles has to say. Phoenix looks over at them as he puts a pan on the stove. He smiles and rolls his eyes as he turns on the heat, flashing Edgeworth a look that says ‘you’re such a dork’. Edgeworth just shoots him a haughty expression in return, continuing to speak and opening the tea cabinet.

The quiet, soft voices of the morning evolve to be louder and more full of laughter. The pale yellow sunlight streaming inside illuminates against batter-splotched skin and pancake-mix-dusted countertops.

Phoenix can hardly remember the cold, empty feeling of his bed. How could he, when in this room there is everything he could want?

Himself, his daughter, and his… Miles.

He forgets that he wanted to check for apartment listings after breakfast.

Chapter Text

>>: [MASON System] operational.

>>: Accessing [PAST] …

February 20th, 2020

Miles Edgeworth’s Munich Office

Even though Wright has warmed up to the idea of Miles helping him, it is still difficult for him to actually allow Miles to help.

It has been ten months – almost a whole year – since Wright had been disbarred. And in that time, he has barely accepted any help that Miles has offered him. He still feels the need to put up a strong front, to act like everything is under control. But Miles knows Wright, and he can see through the facade in a heartbeat.

Miles usually finds himself in Europe these days due to his career, but he and Wright keep in touch through phone calls – usually once a week or so. And lately, each time Miles calls, Wright sounds less and less… like himself. It seems that most of the time – when he’s not doing his shift at the Borscht Bowl Club – he just rots on the couch, and sometimes he’s barely able to even leave his bed.

The pit of worry in Miles’s gut expands and expands. If he had told himself four years ago that one day he’d be losing sleep fretting over Phoenix Wright’s mental state, his old self would have scoffed in his face. But nevertheless, he… he cares about Wright. He may not admit it out loud, but he isn’t afraid to admit that to himself anymore.

After all, he knows Wright cares about him in return. That’s what friends do.

And they are friends, aren’t they? Nowadays, especially after Misty Fey’s case at Hazakura Temple, they’ve become more than just courtroom rivals or colleagues.

Now they’re… Miles isn’t quite sure what it’d be called, but ‘friends’ seems close enough.

But he’ll admit he’s never been good at this – at helping. Miles has never been the ‘shoulder to cry on’. He’s always been a concrete wall, cold and impassive – even cruel, at times. He doesn’t have the toolbox of comforting words inside his brain that others may have. Instead, he is most experienced with words when they are weapons – sharp and piercing blades that can attack an opponent. And those will not help him here.

He doesn’t know how to speak with soft words that heal like balm across wounds. That was always more of Phoenix Wright’s speciality.

So Miles tries to heal Wright with actions rather than words. He offers him help with his expenses, but Wright always refuses that immediately. He offers – many, many times – to fly Wright and Trucy out to Europe for a vacation, to get Wright out of that apartment and hopefully into a better headspace. But he always turns Miles down.

Miles always recognized Wright’s tone of voice whenever he refused, because it was a tone that used to color Miles’s own voice all the time – a horrible self-loathing, that feeling of ‘I don’t deserve it.’

The only times Wright ever accepts Miles’s help is when it involves Trucy. Whenever Miles would visit LA, sometimes he’d pick Trucy up from school or babysit her while Phoenix was working late. Trucy loved it when Miles came to visit – especially since she and him got to watch Steel Samurai together.

But that was all it seemed he was able to do. And as much as Miles loves to be there for Trucy, he wants to be there for Phoenix, too. Miles had told Wright he would fix this, and he intends to make good on that promise.

If Wright isn’t going to accept his vacation offers, he would need to try another angle.

Miles is sitting in his office when he calls Wright up on the phone. After getting past their usual small talk – how Trucy’s doing at school, discussing how her mid-winter break is coming up – Miles puts his new plan into motion.

“You know,” he keeps his voice casual, fidgeting with his pen in his hand as he sits at his desk, “if Trucy’s going to be off of school next week, you two should come visit.”

He hears Wright scoff, the harsh huff of breath fuzzing out the phone’s speaker. “Thank you for the offer, Edgeworth, but for the last time, I can’t—”

“I could really use your help on this next case of mine.”

Wright’s previous sentence dissolves on his tongue, stunned by Miles’s words. Then he laughs, dark and sardonic. His laughter has been sounding more and more cynical these days. “Yeah right. Like you need help.”

“I mean it, Wright,” Miles continues. “It’s an attempted murder case, and I could use some assistance in making sure the defendant is put behind bars.”

“Well, how do you know he’s even guilty?”

Miles can’t help but smile at that. There’s the Wright that he knows. “I assure you, he’s guilty. The victim recognized him as he attacked her, despite the mask he was wearing at the time to hide his face. Thankfully, she was able to fight him off and live to tell the tale.”

“Yeah, thankfully. Jesus.”

“And the defendant has a motive. The woman he attacked is his sister’s fiancée. Investigations so far have found that he’s been very vocal about how he disapproves of his sister marrying a woman rather than a man.”

“So he’s a violent homophobe. Sounds like he’s complete scum.” Wright pauses for a moment after that, and Miles can imagine the expression on his face – those fiery and determined eyes, that sharp jaw clenched. He bets that Wright is on his couch at the edge of his seat, his leg starting to bounce. Holding himself back.

Miles knows Wright won't be able to resist the bait. A sense of justice is instilled in Wright’s heart so deeply, more than Miles has ever seen in anyone else. Wright wants, needs, to help innocent people, and to make sure the people that hurt them pay dearly for their crimes.

Still, Wright doesn’t accept the offer right away. “Sounds pretty open-and-shut, especially if the victim recognized him as she was attacked,” he tries to make excuses. “Why do you even need help?”

“In truth, her claim that she recognized him is the only thing that points toward the defendant. Beyond that, the case against him is very flimsy – no prints on the weapon, too many questions with no answers, etcetera. And since the defendant wore a mask, it’ll be very easy to argue that the victim’s eyes were mistaken,” Miles explains, glancing over the case notes on his desk. “The defendant is very rich, so he’s hired the most slimy attorney he could find to get him a not guilty verdict. I need your help to build the most concrete case against him that I can.”

Another hesitation. Slowly, he’s giving in. “…What about Franziska? Can’t you ask her for help? I’m sure that’d be more convenient for you, with her being in Germany already—”

“I need you, Wright.” Miles doesn’t care that he sounds too honest, too genuine. He’s desperate to give this to Wright, to pull him out of his spiral into depression and give him something to occupy that intelligent mind of his. To show him that he’s still the lawyer he used to be – badge or no badge.

Wright scoffs again. “Why me?”

“Because no one has ever been able to tear apart my cases better than you.” A sly smile creeps onto Miles’s face. “I need someone to bounce my claims off of – someone who can find the holes and help me patch them up. No one else can do that but you, Wright.”

A long silence spreads across the phone speakers. Miles imagines Wright’s reaction – eyes screwed shut, running his hand through his spiky hair, trying to convince himself not to give in.

But he can’t deny himself any longer. “Fine. I’ll— I’ll do it. I’ll do it, Miles.”

“Glad to hear it.” Hope sparks like a firework in Miles’s chest. Finally. Finally. “I’ll text you your plane tickets.”

“No, I can buy the—”

“Nonsense, Wright. I’m paying for them.”

“I’ve told you Edgeworth, I’m not a charity. I don’t need your hand-outs—”

“It’s not charity, Wright. I’m the one asking for your assistance, therefore I am purchasing your tickets. Anyone else in this line of work would do the same.”

One last pause, as Wright tries to think of a reason to refuse, but ultimately fails. “Fine. Fine, alright. I’ll… keep on the lookout for your text. Trucy will be thrilled to see you.”

“I hope so. She seemed very curious about Munich whenever I’d mention it.” Miles puts his pen down on his desk, no longer nervously fidgeting with it. “I’ll see you soon, then.”

“See you soon.”

February 23rd, 2020

Miles Edgeworth’s Munich Flat

Living Room

Miles checks over his flat for the fourth time. This will be the first time Wright has ever visited him in Germany, so everything needs to be neat and tidy. He straightens a painting on the wall by a millimeter, polishes a tiny smudge on the corner of his coffee table.

He doesn’t know why he’s so nervous. It’s just Wright, after all. This is not a big deal.

But Miles is a man who has devoted himself to discovering the truth. Therefore, he knows when he is lying to himself.

Wright is not just Wright. They are friends, yes, but there is… something more. Miles cannot quite understand the feeling, but he knows it is something more than plain, commonplace friendship. When Wright stepped into his life again over three years ago, he ripped out the very foundations of Miles’ worldview from beneath his feet. Wright, with his wide smile and his ridiculous court antics, had completely changed his life. That is not something a commonplace friend does.

In addition to that, Miles is under a lot of pressure. He can’t mess this up. He needs this case to help Wright get back on his feet, to show him there’s still hope for his future.

Miles remembers speaking to Ray Shields after the arrest of Simon Keyes. It was just a mere two weeks before he found out about Wright’s disbarment. Mr. Shields had offered him a position at Edgeworth Law Offices to be a defense attorney, like his father. And Miles, once again, had found himself questioning why he even wanted to be a prosecutor in the first place.

He only knew the answer to that question because of him. Because of Wright.

“I want to save people as a prosecutor,” he had told Shields that day. “I want to save those like Simon Keyes. I’m sure this tragedy could have been avoided if only he could have relied on the courts.”

Miles knows how dishonest the courts could be, because he used to be the poster boy for such dishonesty. Now, he wants to fight that corruption and defeat it for good. He wants to rip out the corrupt foundations of the system and build new ones that value the truth – just like Wright had done with Miles himself.

And now that same dishonest court system has betrayed Wright and robbed him of his attorney’s badge. Now it’s up to Miles to save him, just as he had saved Miles just over three years ago.

So no, Wright is not just Wright. Wright is the only person Miles fully trusts to stand across from him in the courtroom, to face him in the duel of words and wits that is a trial. Wright is the only man that can keep up with Miles – his intellectual equal – who can parry every claim Miles makes and attack back with his own wild counterclaims. Wright is… his teammate, in a way. While they are rivals and opponents, they still work with each other towards a common goal – to find the truth.

Wright is his counterpart. His equal. His partner—

No… Perhaps not that word.

Or… Well, perhaps, in a sense…

Miles’s cell phone buzzes in his pocket. Finally. He quickly raises it to his ear.

“Miles Edgeworth speaking.”

“Edgeworth! The plane’s just landed.” Wright’s voice is tinny from the phone speaker. “Trucy and I just need to get our bags and get our passport stuff sorted.”

“Excellent. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

“Sounds good! See you soon.”

The call ends with a click. Miles throws on his overcoat and leaves his flat.

February 23rd, 2020

Inside Miles Edgeworth’s Car

“You have the same red car here in Munich, too?”

Wright is sitting in the passenger seat while Miles drives, wearing a hoodie and jeans. Trucy sits in the back in her usual magician’s outfit, staring out the window at the old baroque and gothic architecture with childishly wide eyes. It had snowed recently, so a thin layer of white still covers everything.

“No, not the same one,” Miles answers. “My car back in LA is an Alfa Romeo GTV. This is an Audi A4.”

“Ah, yes. Of course,” Wright nods, but it’s obvious he didn’t fully comprehend what Miles said. “Y’know, I never did learn the different species of car.”

Miles chokes. “Species?”

Wright waves his hand dismissively. “You know what I mean.”

Miles shakes his head, exhaling an amused breath. “Well, I’m not surprised. You don’t even know how to drive.”

“Don’t need to. Cars are bad for the environment anyway.” Wright leans back, trying to seem casual, but Miles can see how his body is stiff, and his leg is bouncing anxiously. Holding back.

“I’m glad you’ve come to assist me,” Miles says. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, yeah, I…” Wright trails off a moment. “…I’m happy to help.”

“Would you like me to tell you more about my case?”

“Yes,” Wright answers – too fast, too eager. He clears his throat and corrects himself. “Y-Yeah. Sure.”

Miles hides his smile. “The defendant is a man named Max Doppel, age 28. His sister, Johanna Doppel, studied at a university in England, where she met a woman named Stella Livingston. The two became very close, and now they’ve gotten engaged. However, Max openly disapproves of their relationship. That brings us to a week ago, when an actual attempt was made on Ms. Livingston’s life just after she finished her shift at work.”

Wright’s eyes are more alive than Miles has seen them be in months – fully alert, locked onto the puzzle being laid out before him.

“What was the weapon?” he asks immediately.

“A pair of tailor’s shears. Livingston is a seamstress who works for a small fashion company. The shears appear to have been taken from a supply room in the company’s office building. The defendant works for a marketing company that has its offices in that same building. It wouldn’t be too hard for him to have taken them.”

“So they work in the same building. That definitely places him at the scene of the crime.” Wright crosses his arms, and Miles is grateful to see him deep in thought, the gears in his head turning. “And you mentioned that Livingston recognized him as he attacked her? Even though he was… wearing a mask?”

“Yes. Whoever Livingston’s attacker was, they disguised themself so they could move covertly through the office halls. They donned one of Livingston’s own costumes that she had been working on, which included a mask. Models wearing costumes walked those halls all the time due to the nature of the fashion company, so the attacker fit right in.”

Wright groans. “Oh god, another case where someone’s wearing a costume. I’ve already been through this with the Steel Samurai and the Nickel Samurai.”

Trucy giggles in the back seat. “You had to go to court with the Steel Samurai and the Nickel Samurai, Daddy?”

Miles’s eyes narrow. “You haven’t told her, Wright?”

“I— I don’t talk much about my old job with her,” Wright responds, looking away.

“Daddy never talks about his lawyer days, Mr. Edgeworth,” Trucy confirms. Then Miles sees her smile real wide in the rear-view mirror. “It’s so cool to hear him talk about case stuff with you now!”

“We’ll be sure to not mention any of the violent details with you here, Truce,” Phoenix says. Then he faces Miles again. “So if he was in disguise, how was Livingston able to recognise him?”

“While defending herself from the attack,” Miles explains, “she managed to knock the mask off the assailant’s face. The costume included a balaclava underneath the mask, so that the mask could fit snugly around the wearer's head, but she was still able to see the eyes of her would-be killer. She says she recognized them as Max Doppel’s eyes. After she contacted the police, they checked his office. He was there – and claims to have been there during the time of the crime. But since he was near enough to the crime scene, and Livingston claims to have witnessed him, he was taken into custody.”

Wright straightens his posture, eyebrows furrowed. “That’s it? That’s all you have on him? She recognized his eyes? What color are his eyes?”

“Brown.”

“That could be anyone!” Wright throws up his hands. After taking a second to collect himself, he pinches the bridge of his nose – thinking. “…Before, on the phone, you mentioned no prints on the weapon. I’m assuming the costume included gloves?”

“Yes.”

Silence fills the car as Wright continues to focus on generating ideas. Miles glances at the rear-view mirror again to see Trucy fully engrossed in the conversation.

“How about security cameras?” Wright asks. “A big office building like that has gotta have a CCTV system. Maybe a security camera saw him stealing the costume and finding somewhere to change into it.”

“Seems like whoever the assailant was had thought of that, too,” Miles says. “The security cameras in that sector of the building stopped working that day, and all footage from that afternoon was wiped.”

“What?” Wright leans forward in his seat. “How’d he even get access to something like that?!”

“Either he had an accomplice, or he was clever about it.”

“Damn. He planned this out a lot. Wiping the footage, stealing the costume… Wait, what happened to the costume? There’s gotta be some evidence on it that proves Max wore it – fingerprints or a hair follicle or something.”

“That’s the biggest mystery of this case, Wright.” Miles shoots him his smug courtroom smile. “Police searched all over that building, and yet the costume was never recovered.”

Wright groans again. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“You see why I’ve asked you to help me now?”

Wright leans back in his seat. “…His lawyer will definitely claim it was someone else that tried to stab Livingston instead.”

“Precisely.” They reach a red light, so Miles looks over at Wright beside him. “I’ve gotten us approved to take a look around the scene of the crime tomorrow. We’ll also be meeting with Ms. Livingston herself. But for now, we’re getting dinner. Unless you’re too jet-lagged and want to go straight to my flat.”

Wright snorts a laugh. “Your ‘flat’? I know you’re a pretentious Anglophile, but really? Just say ‘apartment’.”

“They’re called flats all throughout Europe, not just Britain. Are you tired or not?”

“Nah, Truce and I slept on the plane. Dinner sounds good,” Wrights says. “…Nothing too expensive though. I’m not exactly in a place where I can go to one of your favorite fancy restaurants, Edgeworth.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Wright. I’ll pay.”

“No, Edgeworth. You can’t keep—”

“You are my assistant on this case that I requested for,” Miles makes strong eye contact with him. “Therefore I am covering all your expenses. Nothing out of the ordinary about that.”

Wright goes silent, his gaze flicking away to face the front windshield.

The light turns green and Miles puts his foot on the gas. He thinks the conversation has ended, when Wright suddenly speaks up again.

“Are you sure I’m even allowed to be your assistant? I’m not a licensed attorney anymore.”

“Is Maya Fey a licensed attorney?” Miles retorts. “She still assists you.”

Wrights opens his mouth to respond, but then shuts it again. “I never really thought about it that way.”

“Besides,” Miles continues, “you’ve never had an attorney’s license registered anywhere in the European Union, so I don’t see why having or not having your Californian license should matter. You’re providing me with counsel. You don’t need a badge for that.”

There’s another beat of silence as Wright mulls over the words.

A sly smile grows on Miles’s lips. “And if a man can walk into court with a cardboard badge and claim to be you, and have that actually work, then I think you’ll be fine assisting me.”

Wright snorts a laugh. “I was hoping Europe’s legal systems would be much more… reasonable than the nonsense we have to put up with in America.”

“If it was, then I wouldn’t need your help, would I?” Miles shoots him a taunting look. “I’ll know my case is strong after the king of court nonsense himself has checked over it for weak spots.”

“Hey!”

“Oh, I’m sorry, is it inaccurate to call you that?” A bit of Miles’s haughty courtroom persona drips into his voice. “Because if I remember correctly, I was once on trial, potentially facing death row, and you decided that the best course of action to help my case would be to cross examine a parrot.”

“That was one time—”

“And it worked! ”

Wright’s response stops in his throat, mouth still slightly open.

Miles glances over at him, hoping to convey his emotions through his eyes – That’s why you’re the best lawyer I know, badge or no badge. That’s why you’re here. That’s why I want you here.

“Daddy questioned a parrot during a trial?” Trucy’s voice pipes up from the back seat.

Miles’s eyebrows shoot upwards. “Wright, you haven’t even told her about that?”

“I told you, I— I don’t talk about those things much anymore.”

“Oh please, that’s how the general populace knows who you are!” Miles disputes. “It’s your most famous moment on court. The footage was all over the news for days afterwards. I can’t believe you haven’t shown her.”

Wright scoffs, staring out the window. “Not my most famous moment in court anymore.”

Miles can’t help but shrink at the words. “Wright…”

“There’s footage of Daddy questioning a parrot during a trial?! And I haven’t seen it?!”

“Yes, Trucy,” Miles looks at her through the rear view mirror, and her face is absolutely beaming. “We can show you on YouTube later tonight, if you’d like.”

“Edgeworth—”

“YES! Oh my god, yes please!” Trucy kicks her feet excitedly. “Daddy, you know I love parrots!”

“Yes, sweetie. I know you do.” Wright sighs, then mumbles to Miles, “Sometimes I’ll just find random parrots in her room. Other animals, too. Dunno where she gets them from.”

“It’s magic, Daddy! I can’t tell you my secrets.”

“As long as you’re not stealing, you can do whatever you want, Truce.”

Trucy’s expression falters for a second. “…Does it still count as stealing if you give it back afterwards without anyone noticing?”

“Trucy, we talked about this—”

Miles chuckles as the two Wrights begin to debate the definition of theft, wherein Phoenix uses far too much lawyer-speak, which is perfectly countered by Trucy’s argument of ‘okay but, who cares?’

Miles wonders if introducing her to Kay would be a good idea, or a very very bad one.

February 23rd, 2020

Sehr Gutes Restaurant

After briefly stopping by Miles’s flat to drop off the Wrights’ luggage, Miles brings them to one of his favorite restaurants in the city. He parks his bright red car a couple blocks away, and they walk through the snow-covered streets to their destination, passing by the archways and pilasters embedded into the old buildings beside them. The few trees they see are bare of all their leaves, just dark fingers of bark and branches reaching towards the dark-gray evening sky.

Miles wears his usual overcoat over his suit, while Wright wears a dark blue puffer coat and red scarf over his hoodie. Trucy wears a cloak around her shoulders, much like her magician's cape, but warmer and fur-lined. It flutters in the February breeze.

Wright sneezes. “Damn, is it cold. I need to get a hat or something. Feels like I’m freezing my ears off.”

Miles smirks at him. “You’ve grown too accustomed to the California sun. Some cold will do you good.”

“You’re from California, too! How can you stand this?”

“I’ve lived in Germany for half my life, Wright. I’m very used to it.”

When they arrive at the restaurant, they enter and follow the hostess to a table inside a large room. Above them hangs a large chandelier that sparkles beautifully in the light. The room is alive with the chatter of the other patrons, and a live string quartet plays chamber music from a small raised dais in the corner.

They sit down. “I can translate the menu for you two,” Miles says.

“Please,” Wright grumbles, looking down at the menu in his hands. “God, how can a language stuff so many consonants into their words?”

“There’s even more in Slovic languages.”

“I’ll stick to just knowing English and Japanese, thanks.”

Miles helps the Wrights pick out what they want for dinner. When the waiter comes over, Miles orders all their food in perfectly fluent German.

“Very good, sir,” the waiter responds back in German, nodding. He then glances between the two men at the table. “You know, we still have our Valentine’s Day special available for couples. If you’re interested, more details are on the front page of the menu.”

Miles’s posture straightens in his seat as his mind slowly comprehends what the waiter is suggesting. “N-No thank you. We’ll just— We’ll just have what I ordered.”

“Right away, sir.” The waiter smiles, gives a little bow, and walks away.

Miles realizes that he was so thrown off by the waiter’s comment that he hadn’t actually corrected him. He and Phoenix are not a couple.

“Did he offer us something because it was Valentine’s Day recently?”

Miles looks over at Wright, who has an amused look on his face. “Yes. How— How did you know?”

Wright shrugs. “He said ‘Valentinstag’, and I put two and two together.”

Even after all this time, Miles can still forget how observant and sharp-minded Phoenix is behind that goofy grin. He fidgets with the fork beside his plate. “Yes. Well. He thought we were a couple, so he suggested we get the Valentine's Day Special.”

“O-Oh! Did he?” Wright bursts into laughter – too unnatural, too fast. Nervous. “W-Well! That’s… um…” His eyes seem to soften and look wistfully into the middle distance.

Miles furrows his eyebrows. “Wright?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah. Anyway, Trucy,” he turns to face his daughter, “since we’ll be waiting for a while, how about you show Miles here that new card trick you’ve been working on?”

The conversation moves on from there, but Miles notices how Wright keeps stealing glances at him throughout the rest of their evening.

February 23rd, 2020

Miles Edgeworth’s Munich Flat

Living Room

When they get back to Edgeworth’s flat-not-apartment, the first thing Trucy wants to do is watch the video of her Daddy cross-examining a parrot.

Phoenix, reluctantly, obliges. He pulls up YouTube on his laptop and shows her the clip of courtroom footage – telling her that it landed him “in the center of internet memes for months afterwards.” Trucy is ecstatic when she sees the parrot take the stand on the grainy 480p video.

While her eyes are glued to the screen, Phoenix keeps an eye on Edgeworth, who’s busying himself making tea all the way on the other side of the flat. Phoenix understands. He bets that hearing the deep gravelly voice of Manfred von Karma, even after all this time, is enough to trigger Edgeworth’s fight-or-flight response. Phoenix wouldn’t want to subject him to watching any type of recording of his former mentor.

When Edgeworth returns to the living room, he’s carrying a very ornate tea set on a silver tray. Trucy crawls across the couch to get closer to him as he passes by her. “Mr. Edgeworth?”

“Yes, Trucy?”

“In the car, you said that you were the one on trial in that video. You said you were on death row,” she says, staring at him with huge, owlish eyes. “What happened?”

“Trucy, sweetie,” Phoenix immediately tries to cut in, closing his laptop. “Let’s not ask things like that, okay? It’s—”

“Oh please, Wright.” Edgeworth sets the tea tray down on his antique coffee table. “It’s okay, she can ask. It’s good that she has a curious mind.”

Trucy grins wide. “Yeah, Daddy!”

“W-Well,” Phoenix relents. “I mean, as long as you’re comfortable with it, Edgeworth. I wouldn’t wanna—”

“I said it’s okay, Wright.” Edgeworth starts pouring tea for himself and his guests. “I’ll spare you all the details, Trucy. But in summary – a little over three years ago, I was falsely accused of murder, so I was put on trial.” Then he looks up, meeting Phoenix’s eyes. “Your father helped me back then when no one else would. That’s why I’m very grateful to him.”

God. Fuck. Phoenix can feel his face turning pink. Edgeworth can actually be surprisingly honest about his emotions sometimes – confronting Phoenix to tell him ‘thanks to you, I have been saddled with unnecessary feelings,’ comes to mind as an example, or any of the many times Edgeworth has told Phoenix about his trauma surrounding earthquakes and elevators. Even though Edgeworth can usually be very withdrawn, even cold at times, he still willingly shares those vulnerabilities – at least, he does with Phoenix. Especially lately, now that they’ve gotten closer.

Phoenix isn’t like that. No, Phoenix hides behind big smiles and bluffs as much as he can, just like when he was a lawyer. He can’t let anyone see the cracks in his defense.

“A-Anyway,” he says, changing the subject. “Edgeworth, Trucy has been very excited to watch Steel Samurai with you again. Should’ve heard her fangirling to me about it in the plane ride over.”

“Yeah!” Trucy beams. “Please, Mr. Edgeworth? Can we?”

A faint smile crosses Edgeworth’s lips, and Phoenix feels like he’s going to melt at the sight. God, three years ago he could only have dreamed of Edgeworth smiling like that. Not his pompous courtroom smirk – but something genuine, real.

His heart flutters in his chest, but he quickly locks that feeling away deep inside his soul.

“Of course,” Edgeworth answers. “I was looking forward to watching it with her as well.”

“YES!” Trucy throws her fist in the air. “I’ll put Netflix up on the TV.”

“Actually…” Edgeworth then walks over to a bookcase against a nearby wall, reaching towards a neatly-organized shelf crammed full of old DVDs. “I thought that since you’re here, we could watch this instead.” He pulls out a large DVD case, the cover of which displays a very colorful illustration of the Steel Samurai.

Trucy tilts her head to the side. “What’s that?”

“This, Trucy, is the DVD box set of the Steel Samurai animated series, originally released in 1999.” Edgeworth explains, presenting the box as if it were a majorly important piece of evidence in a trial. “I used to watch this show on television when I was around your age.”

“What?! No way!” Trucy bounces in her seat. “I haven’t seen that on Netflix!”

“That’s because it’s not available on most streaming platforms, like the more recent live-action reboot is.” Edgeworth walks over to his huge flatscreen TV and opens the DVD case. “As much as I like Will Powers’s depiction of the Steel Samurai in the new live-action show, nothing beats the original animated series.”

He and Trucy continue to go back and forth, comparing the new show to the old one, and Phoenix can’t help but smile as he listens. Miles is so good with Trucy – comfortable with speaking to her, and never talking down to her just because she’s so young. He treats her with respect, actually listening to what she has to say, and dignifies her opinions with thoughtful responses.

In all honesty… it reminds Phoenix a little bit of Miles’s father.

He remembers back when he used to visit the Edgeworth household when they were kids. Whenever Miles would ask a question about something he had read in his father’s law books, Gregory Edgeworth would always answer with a smile. He’d always commend his son for asking such a thoughtful question, and then encourage him to ask more about the subjects that interested him.

A sudden realization dawns on Phoenix. What Edgeworth had said earlier – ‘It’s okay, she can ask. It’s good that she has a curious mind’ – is a line that practically came straight from Gregory Edgeworth’s mouth.

It reminds Phoenix – there’s something he wants to ask Miles. Something related to some very important papers tucked neatly into a folder in his bag.

Edgeworth slides a DVD into the disc player on the TV stand, then returns to the couch. Trucy is curled up on Phoenix’s left side, so Edgeworth sits on Phoenix’s right. As he does, their knees knock against each other, and their elbows touch briefly before Edgeworth settles back against the cushions.

Phoenix wonders what it would feel like if Edgeworth was cuddled against his side – if he had his daughter in one arm and Miles in the other, two of the most important people in his life. All snuggled on the couch together, like they were a family—

“Daddy?”

“Hm?” Phoenix shakes himself how of his reverie, his eyes snapping to Trucy’s.

“Can you press play?” Trucy points to his hand. “You have the remote.”

“Right! Right.” Phoenix points the remote at the TV and presses play.

Edgeworth is sitting a safe couple inches away from him. His imagination is just that – imagination.

Trucy’s always liked to talk as she watches TV. Now, she happily points out parts of the animation that she recognizes from the live-action show, and Edgeworth always commends her on her observations. She asks questions and Edgeworth always answers attentively.

Phoenix is, admittedly, pretty tired after having to deal with everything that comes with traveling to another country – not just the act of flying itself, but the preparing, the packing, getting their passports in order – so it’s nice to just sit back and let Edgeworth take the reins, keeping Trucy entertained and giving Phoenix a chance to rest.

He loves Trucy with all his heart, but being a single parent has been very difficult. He’s grateful to Miles for making things a bit easier.

Papers. The folder in his bag. His mind wanders… Maybe he will actually ask. If he builds up the courage to.

They get through two and a half episodes of the show before Phoenix notices Trucy hasn’t made a comment in a while. He looks over to see her head flopped against him, her breaths slow and even.

Phoenix chuckles softly, running his fingers through his daughter’s hair. “Trucy’s asleep.”

“Oh.” Edgeworth pulls his gaze away from the screen, lowering his voice to something quieter. “I’ll pause the show, then.”

“Wouldn’t want her to miss the big battle they’ve been hyping up all episode, now would we?”

Edgeworth picks up the remote and pauses the episode. The animated characters freeze in place, and the room is abruptly pulled into silence.

With Trucy asleep, it is just the two of them. Alone together.

“It’s so funny to see you talk about Steel Samurai openly,” Phoenix grins, trying to cut any sort of tense that may or may not be there. “I remember a couple years ago when you wouldn’t be caught dead admitting that you liked it.”

“Yes. Well.” Edgeworth’s eyes flick around, not meeting Phoenix’s. His more relaxed attitude that he’d displayed with Trucy has tensed back up again into his usual uptight personality. “It is, albeit, a children’s show. And you have a child now. I thought it wouldn’t hurt to… recommend it.”

“It’s a good recommendation.” Phoenix looks down at Trucy again, if only to avoid eye contact with Edgeworth. “She really likes it.”

“How about you?”

“Hm?”

“Do… Do you like it? The show, I mean.”

It’s incredible how stilted Edgeworth’s speech can be sometimes. In the courtroom, he is effortlessly charismatic. With Trucy, he is just as good-natured as his father. Even sometimes when he and Phoenix are alone, he can be steadfast and strong and always know just what to say.

Other times, though. Other times, Edgeworth is anxious. Awkward. Too self-conscious. It’s whenever he has to act casual, Phoenix notices. It’s like he’s incapable of it. Edgeworth is incapable of participating in smalltalk or normal conversation. He can only ingeniously argue his claim in a courtroom, or passionately discuss his interests, or say incredibly meaningful things like ‘Your father helped me back then when no one else would. That’s why I’m very grateful to him,’ or ‘I would have been here instantly if you had called me,’ or ‘We are going to figure this out, and we are going to fix this. I promise you.’

“It’s not bad.” Phoenix shrugs in response to Edgeworth’s question, trying to channel enough casual energy for the both of them. “It’s better than the live-action, I’ll admit. But you know this kinda show isn’t really my thing.”

“Right. Of course.” Edgeworth’s words are still so stilted and stiff, no flow at all. It can sometimes feel so unlike him, really. It’s strange to see this side of him – to see jabot-wearing, Victorian-tea-set-having, prosecutor-at-age-20 Miles Edgeworth attempting to have a normal, basic conversation. “I’m sorry to have to subject you to it, then. I’m sure there’s better ways you wanted to spend your evening.”

“Nah, I didn’t mean it like that.” With Miles like this, Phoenix somehow feels braver. In terms of social skills rather than law, Phoenix is suddenly the more experienced one of the two of them. It relaxes him, and that nervous tension he was feeling before dissipates. “The show’s not really my thing, but I still enjoyed watching it. I liked listening to you and Trucy talk during it. Watching it with you makes it fun.”

And Miles gets flustered. Oh god, Miles flustered is even rarer than seeing him stilted and awkward. He doesn’t even hide it – like he’s so not used to feeling this way that he doesn’t know how to react to it. Pink tinges his cheek and he looks away, back towards the TV, gesturing at it so he can have something to do with his nervous hands. “Y-Yes, well— If the show is not usually your taste, then you have no right having the damn theme song as your ringtone. That’s just— just deplorable, really. You don’t have the right.”

He’s changing the subject. Trying to keep some semblance of the upper hand – fitting, since the conversational rules he’s more familiar with are the rules of a courtroom argument. It all makes that brave feeling in Phoenix’s chest swirl into an unruly storm. It makes him want to tease Miles, to flirt with him. ‘Don’t change the subject. I see what you’re doing,’ he wants to say. ‘Oh, did I make you blush? No, no, don’t look away. You’re cute when you blush, y’know.’

As if Phoenix would ever be brave enough to actually say those things out loud. He’s only that smooth of a talker in his imagination or in court.

Besides, saying stuff like that would only make Edgeworth uncomfortable. Phoenix knows Edgeworth doesn’t return his feelings for him. But Phoenix is alright with that. He cares about Edgeworth, and he knows Edgeworth cares about him. That’s all that matters, really.

He loves Miles. If that love is only confined to friendship, it doesn’t matter. He still gets to love him.

“Oh, c’mon,” Phoenix choses to say instead of any kind of flirting. Although, he still keeps a wide grin on his face. “That theme song slaps. It has every right to be my ringtone.”

“It just makes you look like a fake fan,” Edgeworth shoots back. “Real fans will take you for a fool.”

“Oh no. My worst nightmare – all the anime nerds calling me out for being a fake fan on Twitter. Whatever shall I do?”

“Oh, shut up, Wright.” Edgeworth crosses his arms, tossing him a little snooty look that makes Phoenix chuckle.

God, I love him. Miles has been through so much horrible shit in his life, and has had a long and bumpy journey learning how to cope with it all. For Phoenix to be sitting here beside him, just talking about little things like TV shows and theme songs, to be living so simply with him – it’s everything Phoenix could have dreamed of. To see how much Miles has healed, how much he’s gotten better in these past few years.

Even when it feels like everything is falling apart in Phoenix's own life, to see Miles like this makes him so happy. Phoenix changed the course of his life to help Miles, to save Miles – and, perhaps, he succeeded. After all these years, maybe he actually succeeded.

Maybe now, Miles could be the one to—

God. He’s sleep deprived. Jetlagged. His thoughts are wandering out of his control.

He looks down at his daughter, still asleep against him. “I should put Trucy to bed.”

“Right. Yes, of course.” Miles stands up, giving Phoenix space. His movements are just as stiff as his words.

Phoenix scoops up Trucy in his arms and gently carries her back to the guest room she had claimed, laying her down on the bed and lifting the covers over her. He presses a kiss to her forehead, then leaves.

As he passes by his own guest room in the hallway, he hesitates.

The papers in the folder in his bag. Is it really such a good idea to ask Edgeworth about this, given all the swirling feelings that Phoenix feels for him? Would that be fair – to pull him into this, without him knowing the full extent of Phoenix’s feelings?

Phoenix shakes those thoughts away. That line of thinking is ridiculous. He wouldn’t be expecting anything different from Edgeworth if he chooses to sign those papers. That’s not what this is about. This is for Trucy’s sake. He’s doing this for her – and Edgeworth is the only person he can go to for something like this.

He grabs the folder out of his bag and returns to the main room of the flat.

Edgeworth is just finishing up putting the tea set into the dishwasher when Phoenix approaches him. With the folder clutched tight in his sweating hands, he stands on the other side of the kitchen island, shifting his feet on the edge of where the living room wooden flooring meets the tile of the kitchen area. All of his previous bravery is suddenly gone.

“Hey Edgeworth, I uh…”

Phoenix trails off, and Edgeworth gives him an expectant look as he closes the dishwasher door. “Yes, Wright? What is it?”

Phoenix takes a breath to settle himself. “W-Well, I just— I wanted to ask you something, and I thought I should get it out of the way now before we get too involved in the case, and well— i-it’s that, um…” His hands fumble with the edges of the folder, opening it up and splaying it across the kitchen island. He pushes it a bit closer to Edgeworth. “M-Maybe you should just take a look.”

Edgeworth furrows his eyebrows and steps closer. He pulls the folder across the granite countertop to get a clear look at it. His eyes flit back and forth as they read the first few lines, and then they go wide.

“Wright…” His head snaps up to meet Phoenix’s gaze. “This is… You are asking me to—”

“I’m asking if you’d want to be Trucy’s secondary caregiver,” Phoenix is finally able to force the words out.

Edgeworth just keeps staring at him, completely in disbelief.

Phoenix can’t stand the silence. He rambles to fill it. “You don’t have to be! This— This is completely your choice, Edgeworth. It's just that— Trucy has no living relatives. I’m all she has right now. I keep worrying, what if something happens to me? Then what would happen to her? Where would she go? It— It keeps me up at night. She’s my whole world right now, and if something happened to me and she ended up being put into the hands of some stranger, I— I don’t even wanna think about that. I-I’m not asking you to be her parent or anything, not even her guardian. You wouldn’t have to do anything more than you’re already doing to help. This is just— like a safety net. For emergencies, just in case.”

Because I’m too scared to be doing this all on my own, he doesn’t say.

“I-I would ask Maya – Trucy already calls her ‘Auntie’ – but there’s a bunch of very complicated Kurain tradition stuff that would be involved with family-related matters like this, so she can’t just sign papers like these so easily. So— so I’m asking you. I’ve already discussed this with Trucy and she loves the idea, because you’ve been so good with her every time you’ve visited, and— and I just thought maybe— But you really don’t have you, if it’s too much—”

“Of course I’ll do it.”

Phoenix’s rambling words get caught in his throat. His stands straighter, barely comprehending what he’s just heard. “I— I don’t mean to rush you, Edgeworth. I understand if you need time to think about it—”

“No need. I’ll do it.”  His gaze sweeps across the counter, searching. “Do you have a pen?”

Edgeworth’s eyes have that same look as when he showed up at Phoenix’s door after he’d been disbarred – that unwavering, steadfast, determined look. That almost scary level of intensity. That strong, purposeful look of ‘I have devoted my life to seeking out the truth. This right here – my words – they are the truth.’

Phoenix wants to completely submerge himself in that feeling. He’s never needed it more than he does now, with everything in his life seemingly falling apart. That overwhelmingly safe, rock-solid feeling – like the foundations of a house, of a home.

In a daze, Phoenix takes a pen out of his pocket and holds it out. He feels tears in the corners of his eyes.

“You’ll— You’ll really do it? I didn’t think— I thought you might—”

“Wright, I know what it’s like to be orphaned in a courthouse.” Edgeworth meets his eyes again, giving him the full force of that determined look. He lets the words really sink in before taking the pen from Phoenix. “Trucy’s lucky you were the attorney that took her in. I will do anything – anything – to prevent her from ever falling into the hands of someone like Von Karma.” Then leans over the counter, quickly and methodically signing and initialing different parts of each paper. “And I’m not a Von Karma. You showed me that, years ago.”

Phoenix is in such disbelief that he wants to laugh. This is what I mean, he thinks to himself. How is it so hard for you to have a casual conversation, when you can say such sincere things like this to me so easily?

Edgeworth slides the paperwork back to Phoenix, fully filled out. “I expect that’ll take a while to process?”

“Oh, um— yeah.” Phoenix tucks the papers back into the folder, trying to push down the absolute relief he’s feeling – finally, I’m not alone in this. I’m not alone in this. “Yeah, it should be a few months. And some people might call you to ask you some questions about—”

“Does this mean Mr. Edgeworth’s also my Daddy now?”

“Jesus Christ, Trucy—”

Both men turn to see Trucy, who’s standing at the edge of the room, peeking out of the hallway.

Phoenix lets out a deep sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Sweetie, I thought you’d fallen asleep.”

“I woke up,” Trucy responds with a shrug. “Then I got up to go say goodnight to you, but you weren’t in your room, and then I heard you both talking, so then I came here and I saw Mr. Edgeworth signing those papers you told me about. So does that mean he’s my Daddy, too?”

“I-I—” That thought of them all together on the couch as a family drifts back into Phoenix’s mind, but he knows it’s a completely ridiculous thought. That’s not what’s going on here, as much as Phoenix would like it. He’s going to tell Trucy no—

“Nothing as formal as that is stated in these documents,” Edgeworths answers her first, using that same tone that he always uses with her – extremely respectful, not talking down to her, giving her question a genuine answer. “This is merely an official agreement which states that I will be providing some assistance to you and your father. That is all.”

“Yeah, but…” Trucy tilts her head to the side. “…I don’t care about all the fancy words and stuff. It just means that you’ll be taking care of me too, right?”

“Sometimes, yes. That’s exactly what it means.” Edgeworth gives a nod of his head.

Trucy beams, smiling wide and bright. “So then you are gonna be my Daddy, too!”

Phoenix sees how Edgeworth’s whole body goes tense – his eyes twitching wider, his grip on the pen tightening.

Phoenix shifts completely into damage control mode, attempting to lessen as much of Edgeworth’s discomfort as he can. “Trucy, let’s settle down a bit, okay? That’s— That’s a very meaningful word you’re using, and—”

“I guess you’re right.” Trucy nods sagely and puts a finger to her chin, thinking. “It’ll be confusing to call you both ‘Daddy’. It’s already confusing that I still call my old Daddy that, too. Hmm…” Her gaze rests on Edgeworth again. “I guess that means I’ll call you ‘Papa’!”

“Sweetheart, please.” Phoenix lets out a nervous laugh, crouching down in front of her and putting a gentle hand on her shoulder. “This is a very serious matter. So let’s not treat it so lightly, okay? We don’t wanna make Mr. Edgeworth uncomfortable by saying something he doesn’t—”

“Wright, with all due respect I can speak for myself.”

Phoenix looks back towards Edgeworth. He doesn’t… look upset. Or even that uncomfortable, really. His eyebrows are pulled together in that way they get when he’s made up his mind on something.

Phoenix stands up and takes a step back, allowing Miles to have the floor.

“Trucy,” Edgeworth addresses her. There is a certain weight to his voice. “I understand the reasoning behind your point of view. But your father is correct. Those are some meaningful words you’re using, and I don’t think they are labels that would be appropriate to describe me. I would hate to disappoint you by not living up to expectations in your head that were not based in the reality of this situation. I would like it to be clear that I am merely providing you and your father with some assistance. Nothing more.”

Trucy doesn’t respond right away, and for a moment Phoenix is afraid she’s going to cry. Trucy rarely, rarely ever cries – even after all that’s happened to her – and Phoenix is still a pretty new father, so he doesn’t quite know how to help in the best way he can when Trucy cries. And he also doesn’t know how Edgeworth would react with Trucy cries. His mind spirals with worry.

But fortunately, Trucy doesn’t cry. In fact, she stands up straighter, putting her hands on her hips, holding her ground.

“Okay. So they’re meaningful words,” she says. “But what you’re doing is very meaningful to me. So I wanna call you ‘Papa’.”

The room goes quiet. Phoenix can hear his heart beating in his ears. Edgeworth is still staring at Trucy – speechless. This eight-almost-nine-year-old little girl has rendered Miles Edgeworth, the famous prosecutor, speechless. That is not easy to do. Phoenix has seen trained defense attorneys fail at that very task.

Edgworth gathers himself, then finally gives his answer. “If you’d like to call me that, Trucy, then… then I would be honored.”

What?

Phoenix can’t believe his ears. He’s in a daze as he watches Trucy grin and run up to where Miles is standing, squeezing her arms around his legs in a tight hug. Miles tenses up again, but manages to awkwardly pat Trucy’s head, smoothing out her hair.

“That is, of course,” he adds, turning to Phoenix, “if it’s alright with your father as well.”

A little incredulous laugh bubbles its way up Phoenix’s throat. Is it alright with him? Of course it is. The image of them all together on the couch as a family floats into his mind again, and this time it doesn’t seem so ridiculous.

“Fine by me,” he says, still in disbelief.

Miles nods and looks back down at Trucy, still awkwardly petting her hair.

“Thank you for helping us, Papa,” she says, voice muffled by the hug.

“O-Oh, well,” Miles stammers, and Phoenix can’t help but notice that his eyes are a bit glassy. “It’s— It’s no problem.” He stops patting her head and instead moves his hand up to rub his eyes. “No problem at all.”

“You okay, Miles?”

“I’m fine, Wright,” Edgeworth snaps at him, his voice thin and watery, completely undermining the aloofness he’s trying to portray. “Ab— Absolutely fine. I’m just— just honored. As I said.”

Phoenix chuckles, leaning against the kitchen counter, his worries gone from his mind.

Maybe the waiter should’ve given us the Valentine’s Day Special after all, he thinks to himself.

>>: [MASON System] operational.

>>: Accessing [PRESENT] …

December 19th, 2028

Peachblossom Bubble Tea 

Indoor Seating Area

It’s been about a month since Phoenix and Trucy moved into Edgeworth’s LA apartment.

In all honesty, it feels like nothing much has changed. They’ve spent so many vacations with Edgeworth that this just feels like another, longer one. They eat breakfast together in the mornings and dinner in the evenings. They watch TV before bed. When Trucy asks for help with her homework, Phoenix proofreads her book reports and Edgeworth quizzes her on vocabulary for her German class. Sometimes Edgeworth even drives Trucy to school when Phoenix isn’t able to.

After all, Edgeworth is Trucy’s caregiver, too.

God, asking Miles to sign those papers all those years ago was the best decision Phoenix has ever made.

Phoenix rambles on about this to Maya, who’s sitting across the table from him, slurping down her non-caffeinated bubble tea. She’s visiting from Kurain, as she does every few weeks. She and Phoenix like to catch up privately before they pick up Trucy from school.

Maya has been listening intently, nodding along with the large straw tucked in her mouth, as Phoenix goes on about living with Edgeworth.

“…And it’s just— just incredible, y’know?” Phoenix runs his hand through his spiky hair. “Everyday, it just feels so natural. Like all the puzzle pieces have finally come together. He’s always been my missing piece – you know that. And now that we’re living together, it’s like…” He lets out a laugh through his nose, dragging his hand over his face. “God, it’s like I don’t even wanna leave.”

Maya leans back in her seat and gives Phoenix her classic mischievous smile.

Phoenix squints back at her. “What is it?”

Her smile deepens at his confusion. “So… are you gonna ask him out?”

“What?! No! No it’s— it’s nothing like that! I didn’t mean— I—”

As Phoenix sputters, Maya cuts him off. “Okay, so does that mean you’ve gotten over your huge crush on him?” She’s smirking – teasing him. “I mean, I wouldn’t be surprised. I don’t know how you’d manage to live comfortably in his house while constantly pining after him everyday.”

Phoenix flounders, mouth open, searching for the right words. “It’s— It’s not that I’m over him. It’s… kinda the opposite.”

Now it’s Maya’s turn to narrow her eyes in confusion. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I dunno. It’s hard to explain.” Phoenix pauses to drink some of his bubble tea as he thinks over his answer. “I’m not over him, but… rather than having a crush on him, it feels like… I dunno. A crush is when you have a certain relationship with someone, but you want something more. And I guess…” he hesitates, thinking of the cold emptiness of his guest room bed every morning, “I guess there still are some aspects I would like to add to our relationship. But I used to want so much more. Now, I have that – I see him at breakfast every morning, we watch TV with Trucy every evening. I don’t have to wait for his occasional phone calls anymore, because now we talk all throughout the day. I have the ‘so much more’ that I used to want so badly – the… the domestic things. So because of that, it’s less of a crush and more like… I just love him. Y’know?”

Maya takes a deep breath, steepling her hands. “Yes, Nick. I do understand. What I’m asking is when are you going to actually tell him that?!”

Phoenix raises an eyebrow. “I mean, I have told him.”

“WHAT?! ” Maya shouts, leaning forward and  slamming her plastic cup on the wooden table. “Okay— Let me get this straight. You’ve said the words, ‘I love you,’ to Miles fucking Edgeworth?”

“Yeah?”

“Has he said it back?!”

“Yeah, of course.” Phoenix shrugs casually. “Like, several times.”

Maya sputters. “Wha— How— Since when??”

“I dunno!” Phoenix throws up his hands. “For a long time now.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me this?!”

“It— It wasn’t that big of a deal—”

“Ohhhh, it wasn’t that big of a deal?” Maya shoots back in a mocking voice. “It wasn’t a big deal for you and Edgeworth to tell each other you loved each other? After all the bisexual-disaster-pining I’ve had to listen to you go on and on about over the years—”

Phoenix manages to snort a laugh. “Okay, okay, you have a point.”

Maya laughs too, but then her eyes get analytical again. “So… you guys are together, then? You’ve confessed your love and you’re together? And now you’ve moved in with him?”

“No, it’s—” Phoenix sighs, shaking his head. “It’s not like that, Maya. It's not like we confessed our love in some big dramatic romantic thing. It was just… ‘I love you’, y’know?”

Maya squints again, like she’s trying to read text written in the most illegible handwriting. “I don’t understand. So— So you are over your crush on him. You love him just as a friend?”

“No, no, hold on. I didn’t say that,” Phoenix is quick to respond. “I just meant… I dunno. It’s complicated.”

“It’s really not, Nick! Just a yes or a no – are you together or not??”

“Well…” Phoenix leans his elbow against the table and puts his hand to his chin. “I mean, in just simple yes-or-no terms… I guess I’d say we are together?”

“You would??”

“I— I told you, Maya! It’s complicated!” He collects his thoughts for a moment. “We’re… together. That’s a good word for it, honestly. We’re together – living together, raising Trucy together, spending our time together. We’re partners.”

“Partners? ”

“Not like that. Not how you mean. But… partners in some kinda way.”

“In what way?”

“I dunno!”

“How about you maybe – and I know, this is a ridiculous idea – actually fucking discuss your relationship with him?”

“No, I can’t— I can’t do that.”

“Oh my god.” Maya rubs her temples with her fingers. “Nick, I’m going to fucking kill you.”

Phoenix bursts out laughing. “Oh yeah? Well then, who would defend your murder charge if you did?”

“Apollo would do it. He’s smarter than you, anyway.”

Phoenix gasps, putting his hand against his chest. “You take that back.”

“I said what I said! Apollo would never be dumb enough to eat glass.”

“Oh my god that was almost twenty years ago now!”

Maya giggles to herself, then points at Phoenix with the hand holding her bubble tea cup. “Stop derailing the conversation. Why can’t you talk to Edgeworth about your relationship?”

Phoenix looks away. He deflates a little in his seat. “I dunno. It’s like… If we acknowledge it, we might ruin it. It’ll make it all awkward or something.”

“So you’re a coward. It’s because you’re a coward.”

“Hey—”

“Oh, am I wrong? What’s the right answer then?” She shoots him a condescending look. “Go ahead. Correct me.”

“I— Well—” Phoenix is left sputtering again, not knowing what to say. Eventually he gives up, closing his mouth and staring down at his bubble tea. “…Fuck. I dunno. I guess I am a bit of a coward.”

“Yeah, I’ve known that for a while now.” Maya sips from her almost-empty tea, the slurping sound ringing loud in the plastic cup. “But to be fair, Edgeworth’s a coward, too. Frannie says so practically everyday.”

“Oh, that reminds me,” Phoenix says, eyes lighting up again. “I wanted to ask if you and Fransizka would come visit us for Christmas.”

Maya raises her eyebrow, and Phoenix is grateful that she doesn’t mind that he’s changing the subject. “You’re inviting us to Edgeworth’s place? Is he okay with that?”

“Yeah, we talked about it. I said how it would be nice to have people over for the holidays. He wasn’t so sure at first, but as soon as Trucy piped up and said how much she’d love to have a little holiday party, he said he thought it’d be,” Phoenix makes air-quotes, “‘a rather excellent idea’.” 

Maya smiles. “He can’t say no to her.”

“He can’t. It’s really funny. He caves to her more than I do sometimes.” Phoenix chuckles. “I think it’ll be good for Edgeworth, too – to have people around during Christmas time.”

“Yeah.” Then Maya’s smile morphs into something more mischievous. “Speaking of Christmas, I’ve started seeing ‘Almost Christmas’ memes of you going around again.”

Phoenix groans, raking his hand over his face. “It’s been years. How the hell do they still make the rounds?”

“The internet never forgets,” Maya says sagely.

Phoenix groans again, but there’s not really much annoyance in it. He’s just happy that people associate him more with Christmas and parrots than they do with his past disbarment.

He’s looking forward to the holidays this year – at Edgeworth’s large apartment, rather than his own usual cramped one. He hopes they can make some better memories for Miles to associate with the holiday, rather than the nightmares that still plague him to this day. It’ll be nice, all of them together as… as a family.

Together. That’s a good word for it. Together as… something.