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Phoenix Wright has been in many precarious situations in this last decade. Even before he lost his badge and worked in that seedy bar, he had run-ins with the mafia, maniacs, and miscreants. The whole three M's.
But it has been a long time since he's been truly afraid.
Yet, he feels the prickles on his skin now, as he crosses the threshold of the Prosecutor’s Office.
The feeling only intensifies when he checks in and is told that he has permission to go right up to his destination. That security was given those instructions explicitly for whenever he decided to visit.
“Wright.” Edgeworth smiles at him over his glasses when he finally stands in the doorway. It’s such an easy thing, magnified by his new spectacles and the lighter shade of his hair. The softening of his features and the lines on his skin. He had to have been alerted to Phoenix’s presence before he even passed the first floor. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“I hope I didn't catch you at a bad time.” He knows he didn't, the man would not be nearly as amiable if it was. But it gives him time to look around, take in the expanse of the office space before getting to the cause of his visit. Something that has been plaguing him since Kristoph settled behind bars a second time. Since Edgeworth had called him to say there was a vacant position in the area that would soon be filled. Something much more permanent in nature.
There are still boxes in the corner. The chess set hasn't been set up. Phoenix settles at the end of the freshly laid rug, still curling at the edges.
“No. Actually, I'm available for the next hour or so.” He stands, allowing Phoenix a glimpse at his new attire.
Not much different than his usual suit, but the addition of a longer coat gave him the impression of being more regal. Maybe it was the lack of ass showing with that decision.
Phoenix clears his throat, looking at the shelves once more. “This is a lot higher than your old office.”
“Yes, it's customary for the Chief Prosecutor to reside at the top. To show the law is under my care.”
“Lots of stairs.” Phoenix licks his lips.
Edgeworth laughs. “I manage.”
The conversation dies there. This is the first time they've seen each other since the dust settled. It seems like Edgeworth expected more from their initial greeting.
Phoenix should be grateful, really. That he has the opportunity to talk to Edgeworth freely without a target on either of their backs. That he can embrace him and love him and-
Phoenix takes in the high ceiling, the rows of bookshelves that he knows will be piled high with legal works within the month. The tea set.
He reaches out to feel the fibers of the couch and catches sight of the end of his shoddy hoodie. He tucks his hand back to his side.
He feels even less welcome here than when he was a defense attorney.
“I suppose I should offer you congratulations,” Edgeworth starts. “For winning your case.” It's for much more than that, Phoenix knows. But it's all Edgeworth says.
Edgeworth had called him two months ago when the news reached him. How Kristoph’s plot untangled until his deception was laid bare. And then Phoenix was no longer considered the Forgin’ Attorney from the last seven years.
He feels like an idiot.
“Thanks.” The inside of his cheek aches between his teeth. “Congratulations on… this.”
“Eloquent as always.”
It's hardly a jab. Barely even a tease.
And yet.
He knows what he has to do.
“Edgeworth, I need to talk to you.”
“Oh?” Miles stills then, taking Phoenix in. It's calculating, as he realizes this may not be a simple pleasant reunion.
“I…” He doesn't know how to start. The only way out is through. “I've been thinking.”
“That's a terrible thing.” It's a joke, but Edgeworth isn't laughing.
“A lot has happened in the past few years. And I just… I feel like I'm leading you on. Giving you false advertising of who I am.” Phoenix steels himself. “I missed you. I did everything I could to clear my name to get back to you, us, here. But… I didn't do it. Not really. I changed. And I can't… I can't have us like that.”
Edgeworth stares at him. “Is Gavin not behind bars?”
“Well, yes-”
“Was your disbarment case not reopened? If not, I’ll be making a call shortly to put it at the top of-”
“Edgeworth! Please, don’t make this harder than it has to be.” He pleads. “You deserve so much better than me.”
“I've done all you asked. All these years. I kept my distance when you thought Gavin would make a move.” This is the angriest Phoenix has seen the man in a long time. “I put you and Trucy up across town no matter how much I wanted you to stay with me. And now you're saying it was all for naught. And not because you do not want me but because you are deciding what is best for me.” And then Phoenix realizes it isn't anger, not really.
It's desperation.
“It wasn't- it wasn't nothing to me. Edgeworth, you have to understand that.”
“Unfortunately, I believe you. But you have already told me that was not enough.”
“I just… look at us. You're Chief Prosecutor.”
“A position I took,” he grits his teeth, “to be closer to you.”
Phoenix has fallen impossibly far while Edgeworth has only climbed higher. There is a distance he could not ever dream to fill.
“For years all I've known is how to live in the shadows, in disgrace. And you… You were made for all this legal finery. You thrive in the frontlines and limelight of justice. I know… I know you've been waiting but what- what would people say? You need to be unbiased in your position.”
“Biased,” the word spits from his lips, “would be the least of what people have called me.”
“Edgeworth… You don't want me. Not like this. Not after all I've done.”
“What have you done?” Edgeworth snaps. “Enlighten me.”
“I…” It's difficult, even now, to admit to it. “I used people, Edgeworth. The ace that sent Kristoph away. I gave Apollo that evidence knowing it could get him disbarred, because it was forged. The original was long gone. I'm no better than Kristoph-”
Edgeworth opens his mouth, but Phoenix is talking too fervently to let him speak.
“And I knew Kristoph was going to try something that night. And what did I do? Switch the seats at the table. It should have been me, Edgeworth. When Kristoph swung, he wanted it to be me. I let Trucy’s father die. Because I didn't know how to stop him otherwise. There will always be rumors about me, Edgeworth. And now they're true.”
“Allow me to rephrase.” Miles breathes out, slowly. Calculatingly. “What have you done that did not ensure your own survival?”
Many things, Phoenix wants to say. Many things that even telling you would make you liable to accusations of corruption.
“I'm not the man that defended you. I don't know if I can be that man again. And I can't bring you down with me because of it.”
Edgeworth stares at his desk, an intense gaze. And finally he speaks. “Is that so?”
“You don't want me like this.” He repeats.
“Well, if that’s true, then we have nothing else to discuss.” He turns to the window then, his back to Phoenix. “I appreciate you stopping by, Wright.”
Phoenix can’t bring himself to respond. He doesn't have to.
“Before you go, if you could do something for me?”
“Yeah?”
“You see that old knickknack on the shelf over there? I think Maya would like to have it.” He waves his hand, and Phoenix follows his gaze. He walks to the shelf. “I have no use for it, but haven't found the time to bring it to her.” His voice is distant now, as Phoenix stares at the object in question. “But since you've already made the trip, it's very convenient.”
A keychain. A red Signal Samurai keychain.
Phoenix reaches for it slowly, hoodie sleeve slipping down. He cups it in his palm. “I- Are you serious?”
“Why would I not be? If you'll excuse me-”
“How- Larry won these for us! In a set!” His hand folds over it, shielding it from view. “It was a symbol of our friendship. Our relationship over years. You ran away for it! You came back to dig it out of the trash!” There’s a lump in his throat. He was letting Edgeworth go because it was what was best for him. Because he loved him. But this… Edgeworth blatantly disregarding their childhood keepsake. This was just cruel. “The last conversation we had was me giving it back to you! Don't think I've forgotten! And you're just willingly giving it away? Do you even realize what you're asking me?”
It's only when Phoenix is finished that he notices the self-satisfied smirk on the man's face.
“All of these years, and you haven't changed a bit.”
“Miles…”
The man steps out from behind his desk, makes slow, purposeful steps toward him.
“No matter how long it's been. How much you think you've changed. I have loved you. I have waited for you. And I am not going to stand by and let you decide against that.”
He speaks with all of the finality of a court statement. He has heard the facts and testimony and rendered the case dismissed.
“Miles…” Phoenix pauses as the man steps before him, reaching up to place a hand on Phoenix's cheek. Just as he did all those years ago, after Hazakura. When they'd had a slice of paradise before he went back to Europe and Phoenix threw away his career.
“If anyone has something to say, they are welcome to file a report explaining why they think associating with someone who was wronged by the justice system is not a good idea. And then they can deal with the pay cut.”
Phoenix barks a laugh.
“I guess it's settled, then.”
“You are mine, Phoenix Wright. And I will let nothing keep us parted any longer.”
It feels like the years melt from them in that moment. The seven years in Kristoph’s clutches mean nothing. The games and tricks cast aside when in the warmth of Miles' gaze.
Phoenix reaches up, slipping his hand over Miles’. “Thank you.” He breathes in, taking in the cologne he's dreamed about for the last seven years. “I can't change what happened. Everything I've done.”
“Nor would I ask you to. You of all people should know that. There are many things I would wish to rewrite.”
“It's been a long time.” Phoenix mutters.
“And we have the rest of it.” Miles responds. “All the time in the world, really.”
It's a naive thing to say.
Phoenix is reminded of himself saying it, long ago. Seven years ago. Twenty odd, while they were in school. They may continue to say it to each other, over and over again. Until it's true.