Chapter Text
Miles Edgeworth was still in shock after seeing his face. After all these years, he was fully persuaded that he would never see him again. Fate has a funny way of doing things.
Sharp, spiked hair pulled back with what Miles believed was too much hair gel for one person, Phoenix baffled him and the jury. The man’s words were daggers through his well structured plan for how the trial was meant to play out; that pointer finger did more harm than any experienced lawyer had done before and completely threw the prosecutor off guard. Quick. Witty. Forming elaborate ideas mid-trial. Somehow winning with a few loose theories and a whole lot of bluffing. He’d be impressed if it were any other circumstance.
From that point onwards, Edgeworth had to face the fact that he no longer had a perfect ‘guilty’ verdict streak. All thanks to Phoenix Wright. The harsh summer sun bled through the vast window of Edgeworth’s office, hot rays like a hard blow to the back of his pasty neck. July was hotter than ever before, yet that was no excuse to stop working. His slim fingers flipped through the files of a case he was assigned yesterday; the murder of Ms. Melody Cédez, a 16 year old girl killed with a metal pipe before performing in an orchestral performance for her school. The conductor was arrested on sight, being the most obvious out of all witnesses there to commit the crime.
It seemed all he did now was take up murder cases.
Grunts from the other side of the room were heard as a familiar presence kept the prosecutor company: Dick Gumshoe. The wide-set detective wobbled and huffed as he dusted the edges of the ceiling, somehow balancing on the flimsy ladder by the shelves of files Edgeworth had piled up from years of work. He looked up at the bulk of a man with a small smile, noting how he seemed drenched in sweat and his signature green jacket was abandoned on the sofa. Eager to please, as always, even through a heatwave.
“You still reading ‘bout that new murder, sir?” The detective asked, briefly looking down to Miles before nearly tumbling off the ladder, grasping on and instantly facing the wall again for security.
In response, the grey haired man sighed to himself and adjusted his cravat around his sweat-slick neck, relieving himself from the heat. “Yes. Something is unusual about this, though I’m not sure what.” He mused, more to himself than to the other. Giving himself one last flick through the pages, he tried to spot the contradiction in the text- like how a certain someone could do so easily through perfectly crafted testimonies. His grey eyes clung to every word like they were looking for treasure, a desperate pirate in need of some spare change.
Lost in contemplation, he didn’t process how Gumshoe was still talking. That was, until he heard the next phrase tumble out the man’s clumsy mouth. “Hey, I heard that attorney guy was taking on the case too. What’s his name again? That Butz guy, with the spiky hairdo.”
Edgeworth froze. Of course Phoenix was taking this case. They always conveniently managed to cross paths, didn’t they?
“Wright is his name, Gumshoe.” He corrected, trying to suppress the odd feeling that stirs inside at the mention of the attorney. That bubbling feeling of what must be dread seemed to stay persistent ever since they had reunited.
“Ah. Sorry, sir. My memory slips sometimes…” The man chuckled in self-deprecation, making Edgeworth wonder how he had managed to keep his job for so long. Nevertheless, the idea of Phoenix going up against him once again- getting to see that confident furrow in his brow as he bluffs and theorises once more saddles the prosecutors mind like a virus clinging to its host; he felt almost impatient, heart pounding insistently. What did he know already? How much has he found out by himself? He couldn’t let the other man better him again.
With the sudden spark of motivation, he found a link. He’d finally spotted it. The name Violet Cédez, resting inside the list of family members the victim had. He vaguely remembered it, though he couldn’t quite place his finger on where.
“Detective, search through the files for me. Find one with the name ‘Violet Cédez’.” He ordered, hoping to get a head-start in this investigation.
——
The sun was setting over the building he worked at, golden ink bleeding inside like its mission was to glorify the challenging, sometimes intense work inside. Edgeworth (who was finally ready to go home for the day) had one last challenge to face. At the top of the stairs stood Phoenix Wright. He had just hung up a call on his phone and was now staring straight at the prosecutor, putting a spotlight on the man. He felt seen. Too seen. That unusual feeling twisted in his stomach and forced its way up into his throat again as he watched the blue eyed man’s lips stretch into a charming smile.
“Hey Edgeworth.” Just two words manage to make the other tense up, unnecessary emotions threatening to spill from his mouth. He needed to go home, he mentally informed himself. Go home, have a long shower and a hot cup of tea to forget this nuisance of a coworker. If you could even call him that, that is.
Teeth gritting, he walked past the defence attorney with a small “Good evening, Wright.” He prayed that would be the end of the encounter. Oh how he was wrong.
Trailing behind like a baby duck following its mother, Phoenix adjusted his suit and continued talking.
“How do you manage to keep all those layers on in this heat? I’m struggling with just my shirt on.” The man was definitely having issues with the scorching summer: his top button undone, his tie loosened, shirt untucked and blue blazer haphazardly on. Edgeworth had to force his eyes away from the foolish sight. It made his stomach feel more queasy than it did already, and made his mind feel lost.
“I keep myself cool in other ways.” He replied shortly, coldly, and soon enough the two were walking in silence. A silence that stretched out for what felt like far too long, their latex shoes squeaking ineptly on every step and the fabric of their suits uncomfortably rustling with every movement. Phoenix’s gaze hovered to the man at his side. Edgeworth noticed. Even out of investigations, the attorney seemed to have a talent of analysing and observing. It made Edgeworth feel like a piece of evidence, being scrutinised down to every little crack and flaw until Phoenix found what he needed. His pale fists clenched.
“You’re working on the Melody Cédez case too.” It was more a statement than a question. Edgeworth knew this was coming, had sensed that the other was wanting to talk ever since he began to waddle along beside him.
Reluctantly, he took a breath and spoke. “Yes, Wright. Please don’t start discussing the case with me, you know as well as I do that you shouldn’t talk about a case with the prosecution—“
“Yes, yes, I know. You tell me this every time I bring a case up.” Phoenix cut him off, turning to him with a smile; Edgeworth couldn’t decide if it was meant to be condescending or endearing. Both concepts scared him.
Once again, quiet rolled over them. It ran through the nearly empty work building, suffocated them more than the sun could ever do, made Edgeworth yearn for something to happen just to get away from it. He couldn’t escape those deep oceans in Phoenix’s eyes even if he wanted to.
Their footsteps seemed to echo for miles, their breaths slightly shallow from what Edgeworth was determined to say was the heat of the summer day. Phoenix’s swallowing was faintly audible when he chose to break the tension yet again.
“I was just wondering if you knew a bit more about the victim. I still haven’t been given an autopsy report.” Edgeworth watched out of the corner of his eye as Phoenix spoke, watching the soft curve of his nose and the jut of his lips as he continued.
He wondered what that profile would look like in other scenarios. The light of his favourite place to eat hitting off of every soft curve, perhaps, or scrunched up in laughter when watching a movie together. He wondered how those lips would look when he was genuinely happy, not just smiling for formalities.
Edgeworth was too deep in the sea of his mind to notice how odd he must’ve looked. His mouth had fallen slightly agape and his eyes intensely focused on the man’s face. Phoenix was looking at him as if he were suddenly unwell, bringing the serious man back to his senses.
He cleared his throat and turned away, simply too hot and too embarrassed to continue this conversation. “I shall give you a version of the autopsy report tomorrow morning, Wright. Good night.” With that last, firm farewell, Edgeworth made no effort to look back at the blue suited bother and went straight to his car. Once settled inside, hands gripping the steering wheel of his red mazda, he finally took a breath. The slow buzz of the A/C helped soothe the man’s heat, yet his heart still pounded and he felt a headache coming on.
This isn’t like me at all, he thought to himself. What’s changed?
——
7:25AM read the clock on his phone as he parked in front of wright & co. law offices. He had make sure to arrive early in the morning, hoping to start his work before the heat peaked at midday. Just this one quick, insignificant stop and then he could start investigating before Phoenix did. If he was lucky, he might even find pieces of evidence before the pesky attorney could. The beige folder in one hand and door handle in the other, Edgeworth took a steadying breath and allowed himself inside the building.
The prosecutor was unsure what he was expecting during this meeting. His mind was confident with the fact that this was just going to be a fleeting visit: a helpful action to get the other man out of his way. Ergo, his pulse shouldn’t be travelling at this speed right now. Yet it was. And he had no clue how to calm it.
The office was its usual sight. A little scruffy, yet presentable enough for a client to come inside and feel comfortable. A bit like how Detective Gumshoe was, in a way. And right there at the desk, hunched over and scribbling on a piece of paper, was Phoenix Wright. Edgeworth felt a traitorous pull of curiosity awaken in his mind as he watched the pencil brush smoothly across the ivory sheet. This horrible emotion only grew stronger as the attorney became aware of his presence and quickly tucked the page away into a nearby drawer. It was a clumsy display, and certainly not subtle.
“Edgeworth? I didn’t hear you come in.” Blue eyes darted around the other’s tall frame, taking in the crisp red suit. The sudden display of nerves further fed the grey haired man’s inquisitiveness, yet he kept his questions to himself.
“The autopsy report you requested.” The beige slip slapped onto the desk, stuck in the middle the stare off between the two. Grey met blue, and blue met grey, glued together in some sort of silent interrogation that even they weren’t sure the topic was.
After what felt like years of stretched out, bordering-on-awkward eye contact, Phoenix picked up the report and read through the details. Edgeworth watched as the man’s fingers flexed to grip the paper tight and the slight pout on his rosy mouth as he studied the page with such intensity. He watched as his brows raised, his posture easing up a fraction as he leaned in to ask “It happened in an arts school?” Indigo gems flicking up to the pasty man before him to double check.
He earned a nod in return, “Yes. Appleshrub Girls’ High School. They focus on the arts.”
“Huh. What a coincidence. I happen to know a thing or two about art.”
The mildly smug smile on Phoenix’s lips would’ve surprised Edgeworth if he didn’t remember a crucial detail about his past.
“I remember, you used to be an art major.” He stated to the spiky haired man, taking in his facial expression. The small, proud smile threatening to break through his lightly dusted cheeks, his blue eyes focused on the documents in his large hands. Infuriatingly, the rhythmic drum-like pounding only picked up in tempo behind the prosecutions ribs.
Phoenix’s eyes met Edgeworth’s softened gaze. “Yeah, I was. Before I changed career paths, as you can see…” the man trailed off, a memory striking him. “You know a few things about art too, don’t you? You used to play the flute when you were little.”
“I… yes, I did.” Edgeworth begrudgingly confirmed, the reminder of his childhood before the trauma bringing up some bittersweet sensation in his heart. He shook it away, not wanting to dwell on the past.
“Seems like we’re going to fit in in this case, won’t we?”
Maybe Edgeworth was coming down with something. Had the pollen levels risen recently? There was no way this behaviour was normal. This light headed, heart pounding, palm-dampening behaviour he was demonstrating, and not forgetting his recent wandering mind. Whatever it was, it had struck him hard at the words Phoenix had said. The underlying lost camaraderie the two had shared once bubbling back up, the fixed glare in his eyes as he witnessed Edgeworth grow more and more agitated…
He must be sick. Surely.
“I shall be looking forward to seeing you in court tomorrow, Wright.” He turned to leave, attempting to dampen down his eagerness to escape the gaze of the defense attorney.
Before the door slammed shut, he heard a faint call, “You too, Edgeworth,” followed by what sounded like a relieved sigh and rustling paper. Edgeworth’s stomach coiled into knots at the tone of his words alone. So simple, yet so much, all at once. Just like the man was, and had always been.
He hadn’t changed at all…