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Ema remembers when she was younger than she is now, with nowhere to live. Those days, she spent a lot of time on her office couch or in Phoenix’s office; from time to time, she would stay with the Edgeworths.
Then the happy marriage, the relationship she had tried to model all her own after, had collapsed. To make matters worse, it had collapsed because of a Gavin .
And then a series of events Ema couldn’t even begin to wrap her head around unfolded: Phoenix, the once world-renowned Turnabout Terror, lost his badge, adopted an eight-year-old, and lost the only stable person in his life in a divorce because he had cheated.
But fine, whatever, she’d just ignore it.
Oh, and then Demon Prosecutor himself, Miles Edgeworth, gave up his badge and adopted a daughter of his own— a daughter she had been dating before the adoption, and said adoption certainly made things a lot messier for her.
But whatever. She had a job to focus on.
A job she didn’t want and would be mad about forever, but cool. Fine. Everything was great.
And everything was fine when Phoenix, who had once lived a life of luxury, called her and asked if he could spend the night in her tiny one-bedroom apartment.
Sure. Perfect. Why not?
“Excuse me for asking, but why do you need a place to crash? Couldn’t you stay with Kristoph?” Ema asks. Phoenix was currently cooking dinner for them, claiming it was the least he could do for her kindness. “I know he has a house in Germany.”
Despite everything else, the disheveled man before her was still Phoenix Wright.
…He really had fallen so far.
“Sure,” Phoenix says. That’s how he was now— he spoke in these broken riddles, expecting everyone to find the answers, like they were so obvious.
And, Ema concedes, maybe they were. Perhaps this was the fragmented way he had always spoken about his feelings, because Ema had watched Phoenix defend Lana all those years ago, and she knew just how he spoke when it came to affairs of the heart.
“You didn’t really do it, did you?” Ema asks. The question had been sitting on her tongue, waiting for its escape, and Ema had no reason to keep secrets from Phoenix.
“Believe what your heart tells you to believe. I can’t make that decision for you.”
She wonders if he had said the same words to Edgeworth. First the forgery, then the cheating… could she really say that this was the man she had known?
Ema is quiet. Trucy was sleeping quietly, curled up in the corner of her couch. How had this come to be? He wasn’t making anywhere near enough money to support a little girl.
“Bon appétit!” Phoenix says. Ema had no clue what he’d managed to cook up— she wasn’t a very good cook, and as a result, ordered out most nights and had very few ingredients in the house. She knew from experience that Phoenix was a good cook and had done most of the cooking for the Edgeworth house.
She wondered how Edgeworth got his meals now. Knowing him, he had probably stopped eating out of stress.
Lana did that too.
They both settle on the couch, Phoenix next to Trucy, and they watch the TV turned down. Things are quiet, too quiet. It was never like this with Phoenix before. The only audible sound is the grating noise of forks scraping against glass bowls, and then the harsh sound of glass bowls being placed atop a glass coffee table.
Ema leans her head on Phoenix’s shoulder. For what it was worth, he and Edgeworth had always been like father figures to her.
She had never had one of her own, after all.
A heavy arm wraps around her shoulder.
“How are you doing?” She asks. “We’re friends. I’m an adult now. You can tell me things.”
“I’m unemployed, divorced, homeless, and I have an eight-year-old.”
“Sure, but the Phoenix I knew could have made even that seem worth living through.”
“Age has made me cynical.” He says.
“You’re not that old.” But Ema can remember a time when Phoenix didn’t have those frown lines, and she recalls a time when his eyes were full of light instead of overshadowed by this darkness.
“How’s Lana?”
“I wouldn’t know.”
“You don’t visit her? You two seemed to be getting along again last time I saw her.”
“Four years ago? Yeah. I see her sometimes, every few months. I dunno. Part of me is still mad at her.”
“It’s not her fault. She just wanted what was best for you.”
“I wish she would have asked me.”
“If she told you what she thought was the truth, you would have turned yourself in to give her a chance at a better life.”
Ema hums. He was right, he usually was.
“How’s parenting going?”
“I like to think I’ve had some experience,” Phoenix says. He was, of course, talking about her and Pearl.
“Is she a handful?”
“Not more than you and Pearls were when you two were little. I can’t believe how old she’s getting. I can’t believe how old you are.”
“I’m only nineteen.”
“Soon enough, you’ll be a detective. How much longer do you have?”
“Just a few months.”
“Congratulations. I imagine Mi- Edgeworth , will want to see you once you get your dream job. But I’d like to see you afterwards, we can celebrate. I’ll take out out for drinks.”
“That’s illegal,” Ema says.
“So? Who cares. I’m not a lawyer anymore. And if you were worried about the legality of things, you wouldn’t have weed.”
“Oh, please. We live in California.”
“You’re underage.”
“Point taken.”
Ema is quiet for a while, simply relishing in the weight of another person. She hadn’t felt this since Lana, seeing as Miles didn’t exactly convey his feelings through touch. She tries to recall all the facts; she didn’t have Phoenix’s side of the story… but he was so different from the man she had grown up with. Could he be capable of forging evidence if he were desperate enough?
“You were dating Prosecutor Gavin.” He says, matter-of-factly.
“Um, something like that. I wouldn’t exactly call it dating, but… yeah.”
“I hope you used protection.”
Ema flushes bright red at that and slaps the back of Phoenix’s head. “It wasn’t like that!”
(If only he knew what her and Maya had been up to…)
“He’s a good kid.”
“He got you disbarred.”
“I submitted forged evidence.” It seemed Phoenix had resigned himself to this fate. What happened to the guy who never gave up?
“...I don’t think so,” Ema says. “Klavier told me about the trial, and of course I saw it on the news, but…”
“But? If you’re skepitcal of the news surely a first hand story would help you form an opinion on the matter.”
“Something about Kristoph’s involvement is sketchy.” She says, not missing the way he tenses. “...You’re seriously dating him? What happened with you and Edgeworth?”
“You’re still young. You’ll learn how things go when you get older.”
She shakes her head. “Don’t use that excuse on me. I may be young, but I’ve witnessed murders, seen more dead bodies than I can count, and I’ve had my fair share of wild relationships. Just because I’m young doesn’t mean I’m not mature enough to know how hard life is.”
“Let me reword: it doesn’t concern you.”
(Ouch.)
“Fine. Be that way.”
It didn’t take long for things to devolve into how the two usually spent their time, which is to say the silence was soon so unbearable that they had no choice but to roll a blunt.
The natural solution to awkward conversations, of course.
“I didn’t know you smoked,” Ema says.
“Occasionally.”
She had a feeling it was more than an occasional thing at this point. Based on the effortless way he rolled said blunt, it was likely a very habitual thing at this point in his life.
Ema couldn’t help but feel slightly put off by the entire situation. Smoking weed with an ex-attorney, one who had gotten several of her friends and even her sister off, was certainly something she never expected to be doing.
On a
weekday
, nonetheless.