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There is a Goose standing on a street corner, honking loudly. Of course, Miles Edgeworth is familiar with the phenomenon of the Soulmate Goose, has even witnessed the blasted thing in action on a few memorable occasions. As is courteous, he dutifully ignores the Goose’s presence and continues on his way toward his Munich apartment. The weather is cold, the end of December as it is, and he really would prefer to get back as quickly as possible. Unfortunately, the Goose seems to have other plans, as Miles only manages another few meters before the serrated beak of that godforsaken creature is fraying the fabric of his tailored slacks and digging into the skin of his ankle.
Jerking his leg away, Miles swats at the beast with the newspaper in his hand. The distinct sound of snickering can be heard from a few people in the crowd around him, but he was not raised without dignity, so he calmly places his leg back on the ground and turns to face his opponent.
“If you must interrupt my busy schedule to chase me toward some poor unsuspecting soul who is likely equally as busy as I am, you can at least wait until I return from my trip to the States.”
The Goose honks and, once again, tries to take a bite out of him. Miles huffs and rolls up the newspaper, holding it threateningly.
“I have urgent matters to attend to. You will have to wait your turn.”
So, Miles Edgeworth returns to his apartment with a Goose nipping at his heels. He is grateful that he had the foresight to pack his suitcase as soon as Gumshoe gave him word of his sister’s second trial against one Phoenix Wright. It saves him the hassle of trying to pack his things with a Goose getting its feathers everywhere.
With a heavy, put-upon sigh, Miles gathers his things, wraps a scarf around his neck, and leaves his building to hail a taxi. The Goose follows. Of course, it does. It sits in the backseat of the cab with him, and when they arrive at the airport, Miles gives the driver an extra tip for the deep-clean the car will be in need of. Surprisingly, the Goose behaves quite tamely as he purchases his ticket. He apologizes as he asks the clerk what type of Goose accommodations will be offered during his flight.
Everything is at peace until he takes a seat at the gate. The Goose begins honking again, even louder than before, and it is all Miles can do to keep from curling up in embarrassment. Everyone in the vicinity is sneaking glances at him, whispering conspiratorially about soulmates and Geese and sharing stories about their own encounters with the diabolical birds.
When the plane lands, he goes straight to the prosecutor’s office. The Goose honks loudly and tries to herd him in the opposite direction. Already, he is getting quite familiar with avoiding the demon’s attacks. When he walks through the door, he ignores the amused looks and speculative whispers from his colleagues as he makes his way toward the stairs. According to Gumshoe, Franziska has been working out of Miles’ office. The Goose manages to get another bite in on his calf. At this rate, he will have to completely replace all the pants in his wardrobe.
Franziska greets him with the sharp sting of her whip, calls him a fool, and hisses a series of biting admonishments to distract from the tears in her eyes. Edgeworth cannot say he has not grown in the past nine months, so he pulls her into his arms and holds her against him as she cries.
In short order, he learns that Franziska has not only been occupying his office but also his apartment and that she is determined to face Wright again to exact her revenge on him. What for, she never does specify. Miles has learned over the years that it serves him better to wait her out than to press her for answers. When they arrive back at Miles’ apartment, Stymphalian hellspawn in tow, Franziska herds him to the couch and tells him to get his affairs in order. The next thing she does is place a stack of manila folders on the coffee table in front of him. Apparently, leaving one’s place of employment and the country without notice incurs severe repercussions in the form of a mountain of paperwork. It is not a mistake he plans on making twice. The Goose is not quiet in its displeasure.
Miles is convinced he must hold a record for the longest period of time between a Goose encounter and the subsequent soulmate encounter. He blames it on the paperwork. Truthfully, he is worried. If not for Franziska’s persistent presence in his home, he would have set about making arrangements for his return overseas. It is unlike her, always so insistent on proving her independence and self-sufficiency, to remain under his roof, under his care. Still, she remains, stubbornly. So, determined to wait her out, he remains as well.
Three months later, Phoenix Wright takes another case, and Franziska pounces.
To Miles’ surprise, Franziska drags him along with her when she makes her way to the police department. Somehow, they manage to lock the Goose in the car. Miles will have to shell out a fortune once this whole ordeal is over to get his car cleaned. Granted it will not be nearly as much as it cost to have the trunk cleaned after that whole debacle with the SL-9 incident and Detective Goodman’s murder. Small mercies, Miles supposes.
When they walk inside, to absolutely no one’s surprise, save maybe the police chief if he is paying any attention, Phoenix Wright is speaking with Detective Gumshoe. Miles is a few steps behind her. As such, he is not quick enough to stop her from using her whip—though, Miles notes, she does not put her full strength behind it—or berating Gumshoe for consorting with the enemy. Miles catches up to her, though, and he does not have the presence of mind to announce his return in a more dignified manner. It does not occur to him, in that moment, that Phoenix Wright thought him dead. All that occurs to him is that he knows his sister well enough to know exactly what she will say. It is the same thing he would have said a year ago, so he interrupts, rebuffs her statement, and only when Phoenix Wright whirls around, face drained of color, does Miles realize his misstep.
Phoenix Wright believed Miles Edgeworth to be dead. Yet, here Miles Edgeworth is, standing before him, alive and well. For once in Miles’ life, there are no bags beneath his eyes, and he is in a better place mentally than he has been since before his father died. So, in the year that Miles Edgeworth spent seeking help to recover from the trauma he has faced in the past fifteen years, Phoenix Wright has been grieving his childhood friend whom he sought to save, who supposedly suffered so greatly that he took his own life, and the police never even found a body. Briefly, Miles wonders why no one thought it prudent to alert the man to the fact that Miles was not dead, merely spending some soul-searching in Europe.
This is not the time, nor is it the place to address such an issue. He listens to himself stupidly as he greets Phoenix Wright—who thought Miles was dead—and all he can say is that it has been a long time. Never, even in all his years under Manfred von Karma, who had a penchant for shaming him, has he ever felt so mortified. So, Miles does the one other thing he is best at besides running away, and redirects. The rivalry between himself and Franziska, while it has calmed somewhat since the elder von Karma’s arrest and subsequent execution, is still familiar. Miles falls into it easily.
Franziska, he is sure, catches on quickly, seeing as she leaves before either of them get the chance to make any particularly scathing remarks. Of course, the only thing the man in front of Miles wants to talk about is the one thing Miles himself would rather avoid. His therapist would tell him that avoidance means it is even more pressing that he talk about it. The first thing Phoenix Wright says to him is that he never wanted to see Miles’ face again.
A little more than a year ago, Miles recalls telling the man something similar.
Some higher power must be looking out for him because the Goose willingly remains locked inside Miles’ apartment without tearing the place to shreds for most of the trial. Luck cannot remain on his side forever, though, as is evidenced by the fact that when Franziska bursts through the courtroom doors, she is followed by a loud honking menace. Of course, it promptly perches atop the prosecutor’s bench. Miles studiously ignores it, even as it nips at his sleeve, and presses the judge to allow Franziska to present the new evidence to the court.
In the short time it takes to wrap up the trial, Miles concludes that not only will he need to replace his slacks, but he will need a new jacket as well. The only part of his wardrobe that has been spared thus far is his cravat. The Goose manages to keep quiet until he leaves for the prosecutor’s lobby, at which point it starts honking incessantly. As soon as Miles receives a report that Maya is safe in police custody, he marches toward the defense lobby, where he is sure Phoenix Wright is slowly coming down from the anxiety and adrenaline of the trial.
The Goose is biting at Miles’ heels the whole way. Astonishingly, it settles in a corner as soon as he enters. Miles watches the tension snap back into Wright’s shoulders, watches Wright go weak in the knees, hears the cry in the half-laugh that tumbles past his lips, and Miles catches Phoenix before he can fall to the ground, exhausted and relieved and so, so glad to have it all be over.
It is not over, nor will it be over for a long time still. Miles knows this well. For now, however, he wraps an arm around Phoenix and guides him to the couch because Phoenix no longer has the strength to stand. The least Miles can do now is remind him that he does not have to stand alone. Somehow, when he lifts his head from Miles’ shoulder, Phoenix manages to summon a smile.
And this, too, that even in the wake of such a devastating case, Phoenix is able to look at Miles and smile. The Goose flaps its wings in the corner of the room, and it comes to Miles in an instant, a moment of overwhelming clarity, that for whatever reason, the Goose has been chasing Miles here, to this moment, for months. Miles leans closer and presses his forehead to that of his partner.
“There will never come a time when I will not come to your aid, Phoenix.”
The words are whispered so softly he almost wonders if Phoenix will hear them, even as they sit so close together. But Phoenix reaches up, places a hand on the back of Miles’ neck, and nods. His eyes are closed. Miles presses a single, chaste kiss to Phoenix’s lips, then another to his forehead, and gathers Phoenix closer into his arms. Miles rests his chin atop his partner’s head.
“I know I have a rather poor record regarding my ability to remain at your side, Phoenix, but please know that no matter what, I will always come back to you.”