Chapter Text
Phoenix laid in bed wordlessly, staring at the ceiling. It's been months. Months since Edgeworth had been incarcerated, his one and only failure as an attorney to date. Things returned to normal afterwards, you could say, but not entirely.
After all, he knew that one of his clients was in prison and he couldn't do anything about it. And not just any client, it was THE Miles Edgeworth. The one he became an attorney for in the first place.
He had to do something, and yet, was there anything to do at all? For a few months, there'd been evidence that he managed to gather that could maybe, hopefully prove the DL-6 incident was not his fault after all. Good thing there's no statute of limitations on murder.
His portfolio got more and more comprehensive, especially with Maya gone… even though the law offices were struggling a little. Yeah, no. Everything was awful.
Only a minute later, his phone began ringing. He reached out, flipping it open to reveal that it was… Larry. Who else!
“...hey Larry.”
“Nick… NICK! You won't believe this, man! So, my girlfriend… you know, Nellie, I found out her uncle is the judge! So I kinda had to beg her, but the point is… they're gonna reopen Edgey's case as long as you swear that you have REAL evidence! You do, right?”
“Of course I do!” He jumped up, already flipping on the light and beginning to spread all the files he had onto the bed. “Please!”
“Okay, I'll let her know! You better be ready, Nick! Bye!”
“Huh?! Wait!” But it was no use, he already hung up.
This was Phoenix’s one and only opportunity, it felt completely unreal. Getting Edgeworth out of prison was priority number one! The sooner he could get home, the sooner everything would be better.
That night, he didn't get a wink of sleep, sitting up till dawn and beginning to build up the case. The missing DL-6 bullet, the one found at the scene of the crime… the damn gunshot that hit the elevator window, never mentioned by anyone, mind you!
He practically ran down to the precinct while hauling around the evidence in a bag. Detective Gumshoe was shocked by his appearance, almost pouring his coffee on himself and muttering out a few words in quiet frustration before looking up at Phoenix.
“Pal!! What is all this rushing about?!”
“I'm sorry, detective! It's just…” He inhaled sharply, nearly doubled over. “My friend, Larry, managed to talk to someone about reopening Edgeworth’s case, so that's what we're doing!”
Gumshoe blinked up at him.
“Huh? Harry Butz, pal? The murderer?! He managed to get that case reopened…?”
“His girlfriend, she… she's the judge's niece.”
“Right.” He nodded, taking a sip of his coffee before promptly spitting it back into the mug, the information finally getting all the way to him. “WHAT?!”
“I— I think we can get Edgeworth out of prison!”
“Oh! That's great, pal! I'll talk to the guards, you go down there and tell him the news yourself! I knew trusting you was the right choice!”
“Wait a moment! I—!”
“Go! They'll let you in when you get there and he'll be waiting for you!”
“I–!”
He was already pushed out through the door by then. So, it was time to go to jail! That…didn’t sound too good, now did it?
Edgeworth made it pretty clear to him that he did not, in fact, want Phoenix visiting. Preferably ever. And that he especially didn’t want everyone’s favorite defense attorney trying to make a case for him. That ship had sailed, and as a murderer…there was no room on it for someone like him.
Still, trying to psyche himself into believing everything would end up fine in the end, and that this wouldn’t be an absolutely insane failure of an action plan, Phoenix walked through the gate along with all the other visitors and was quickly and rather unceremoniously ushered to the area with Edgeworth waiting for him in one of the chairs. The people surrounding them mostly appeared to be married couples, so only a tiny bit awkward. It’d been a while since he last visited and it was a sad fact that the former prosecutor looked worse for wear. Like he aged a good five years just on the basis of being stuck in this place, even sporting a few bruises on his face, as well as an injury on his lip which was in the process of healing.
“Wright. Why are you here?”
“I…listen, Edgeworth. You’re not gonna be happy with what I’m going to say, but really, I didn’t have a choice. I owe you so much, so it’s the least I can do, especially knowing that…”
“Don’t tell me you went through all the trouble of reopening my case. Is that what’s at the root of this word-salad of yours? I know that I’m guilty, everyone does. It’s high time for you to finally accept it.”
“Well, I know that you aren’t. And I have evidence to prove that you didn’t kill your father. Please, listen to me. It wasn’t easy to get it reopened in the first place, Larry had to employ his tactic of…well, begging his girlfriend.”
“Tsk, tsk, tsk.” Edgeworth chuckled, looking off to the side and folding his hands up over the table. “You shame me for having changed too much, and yet, so have you. I see no reason for you to go through all this trouble if not for the sake of maintaining your winning streak.”
“Excuse me?!” Phoenix almost choked on his own saliva for a moment. “You think I…that I’m doing this all for my sake? Have you lost your marbles? All those sleepless nights and me working myself sick with all these files,” He slammed the bag of them onto the table on his side of the glass. “For my sake?! I want you out of prison because I know you're innocent, and I don’t care what you think!”
“Fine then! I suppose I’ll see you in court, since if anything, you've never known when to stop.”
“At least look at the evidence!”
“No. I don't see the point, really.” With that, Miles asked for the guard to take him back. “Good day.”
What was Wright trying to get at with this, exactly? There's simply no denying his guilt, self admitted, no less. While he didn't doubt some evidence could have been scrapped together in a day, since that was clearly the way he liked to operate, no substantial case could be made against an admission of guilt.
Actually, now that he thinks about it… will this turn into an argument of how he was a kid and also not sound of mind thanks to the oxygen deprivation?
Foolish… that word was always a suitable descriptor for Phoenix Wright. And yet, something about him was extremely charming. Him and his hardheaded sense of truthfulness.
Miles walked back to his cell, watching the door close in on him once again. This place was far too dull. And not very kind. A good few of the supposedly innocent people he'd sent here found him not long after arriving. They weren't exactly happy to see him. Sure, he can hold his own in a fight… to a point, that is. But not when there's a small stampede coming his way.
And if Wright gets him out (which he will not, let's be honest) then what exactly is he supposed to do? Walk back into the prosecutors’ office like he owns the place? He would be lucky to be allowed to retrieve his belongings. Speaking of that, what happened to his car? His home?
There was much uncertainty in the coming time period.
A few days passed uneventfully, giving him hope that maybe… just maybe, the man wouldn't go through with this idiotic plan. Then one morning, fairly early, a guard walked into his quarters and handed him his outfit. ‘Time for your trial’, he said.
Well if that isn't the most humiliating turn of events, NOTHING is!
Getting dressed, all he could do was worry. About the trial ahead, but most of all, his future. His fellow convicts would not take too kindly to him being given a second shot in such a way when he is unavoidably dragged back here in a few hours. His shirt didn’t fit quite as well as it used to, now appearing to hang off his frame more significantly.
The guard returned, snapping a pair of handcuffs onto Miles’s wrists. He was then promptly escorted to a car and instructed to climb in rather callously. Then again, that’s just the treatment a murderer deserves. The ride to the courthouse only served to worsen his anxieties.
Once inside, he approached Wright, noting that the girl he'd been walking around with recently, Maya, was missing. Maybe she had gotten sick of him and he wouldn't blame her. A true acquired taste, as it were.
“Wright.” Upon closer inspection, he seemed just as exhausted as Miles himself was. Maybe he'd been losing sleep over this trial. Still, it gave him an inkling of pridefulness. It was his trial that had the attorney so out of sorts. Despite himself, a faint smile found its way across his lips. “Would you tell me the angle from which you will be approaching this case?”
“You're the…” He yawned. “The…prosecutor. I'm not telling you anything.”
“I'm the defendant. And you are supposed to be my defense. But with your current state, I might as well start preparing for the firing squad.”
“No! I got everything, I can prove that someone else did it… the gun was fired twice. And I also have this.” He dug around in his pocket for a moment, dropping the item first before awkwardly bending down, showing Miles a bullet. “This is the one that was…you know.”
“Extracted out of my fathers heart, yes.”
“Yeah! I mean, condolences… anyway. The gun was fired twice and there's a bullet hole through the glass so there's no way of knowing you hit your dad and not the glass. So if I can figure out somehow why the second gun– I mean bullet wasn't found, then we win and you can go home and I can finally sleep.”
“Right.”
“What?”
“...nothing.”
Inside the room, they were faced with prosecutor von Karma. He seemed annoyed at the idea of continuing this ‘farce’ as he'd previously put it.
Phoenix took the defense attorney’s stand.
“We are gathered here today for a reevaluation of the DL-6 incident as new evidence was brought to light by the defense.” Said the judge.
“Bah! Still continuing on with this ridiculous charade even though it should have ended months prior. That Miles Edgeworth is a criminal and deserves imprisonment!”
This was all well and good other than the fact that Phoenix dozed off for a moment, Miles having to kick him in the shin as an impromptu way of waking up the sleeping beauty.
“Your honor…! What is the edge worth?!”
“Excuse me, Mr. Wright?!”
“Worth more than this, let me tell you that!”
Though stumbling through his words slightly, he began presenting his evidence in a quick stream of consciousness, even pulling a stray metal detector out of somewhere and waving it around.
There was a bullet hole in the window and the gun was fired two times, ergo there had to have been a second bullet. Where? Since it wouldn't make sense for it to be taken, what if it was shot into one of the people present? Neither Miles nor Yogi were injured, meaning it likely went through the elevator door, striking the murderer. If it were someone innocent, they wouldn't have had a reason not to report it.
And who went on a suspicious little vacation after the incident? Oh yeah, von Karma. Though, if he had it taken out then a doctor would have seen it and knowing how secretive and ‘my brand is perfection’-esque he is, that wouldn't do. So if there's a bullet, it's still in him.
Wright asked if he could use the metal detector just to check. Now, von Karma tried to say no, and was promptly forced to comply by the judge. Sure enough, it started beeping right over his shoulder. He tried to suggest that the bullet had ended up there at a different time, but that idea was dead as soon as ballistic markings and the idea of getting said bullet out were brought up.
For better or for worse, and accompanied by a breakdown for the books, he confessed to the crime, removed from the room at once by the proper authorities. Miles was called to the stand, and declared…
Innocent?
So technically, he was a free man yet again. And more importantly…he was free from the years upon years of horror, that he was the one that ended his father's life. It almost felt like some kind of mistake.
But no, he was led out of the courtroom just 15 minutes after being walked inside. Told point blank he'd be processed back at the prison facilities, and after that, he'd be allowed to head home. Gumshoe offered to go there along with Wright. Larry sadly had no time for such things at the moment because his girlfriend wanted him to meet the parents (how exciting).
On his way back to prison, Miles was trying to think of a good way in which he could thank Phoenix. While his life was still in ruin compared to how it used to be, things were finally looking up after all these years.
The processing took a good hour but afterwards, he was allowed to walk free with his possessions, met by Phoenix snoring on Gumshoe’s shoulder, who was intently trying to figure out a sudoku puzzle.
“Mr. Edgeworth!” He stood up, waking Phoenix in the process. “I'm so glad to see that you were proved innocent after all! I knew you could see it through, pal!” He put a hand on the defense attorney’s shoulder, much to his sleepy confusion. “We should have dinner tonight to celebrate! My treat! My salary actually went up a little bit last month!”
Miles just stood there, watching, not entirely cognizant of what he was being told. Everything felt distant. His mind was still attempting to process what von Karma had done, the pain he caused. Someone he could wholeheartedly say he admired, destroying his life out of spite for what?! A penalty, a…a single scar? He was a child, a young boy that didn't deserve any of this, and–!
“Detective. Could you take me home please?” He spoke up, words closer to a mutter than anything else.
“Home?” Phoenix tilted his head. “You mean, to a hotel? Or… a relative?”
“No, to my house. Detective Gumshoe knows where I live, he had watered my plants when I was abroad handling business.”
“Uh…” Gumshoe went silent for a moment, before continuing. “I'm sorry to say your house is in…bad shape right now.”
“What…?”
“You don't know?!” Phoenix blinked shockedly at Miles. “I thought they would have told you!”
“Told me what? What happened to my house?!”
“Well…” Came a hesitant response from Gumshoe, with him scratching the back of his head. “There was an earthquake about a month ago, and since you haven't had time for renovations, it collapsed in on itself. I saw this when I went over to water your plants, Mr. Edgeworth!”
WAIT WHAT?! SO HE DOESN'T EVEN HAVE A HOME TO GO BACK TO?! Is he supposed to sleep under a highway overpass? Or in someone’s basement?! This is just great! Time for the former prosecutor to go live in a homeless shelter. How tasteful of him. How very classy!
“Why didn't you think to tell me?!”
“H-h-hey, Mr. Edgeworth! I thought they told you! I told the authorities but my guess is they forgot!”
“Of course they forgot…” Miles grumbled. “They are gonna hear about this on the next report…” Which he can't file anymore because his professional days are finished. He's finished. Wait… WAIT! THERE'S HIS CAR! He could use the money left in his bank account to pay off all court and lawyer fees, and either live out of his car for a while or sell it to afford to rent out a place… that is certainly a miserable idea but more hopeful than before. “Anyhow, if you could take me to my home still… I would like to get my car.”
“About that…” Phoenix trailed off. “The roof of your garage collapsed onto it.”
“Yeah!” Repeated, affirmative nods from Gumshoe. “I saw it, it's sad what happened to that beautiful car!”
WHAT?! YOU'VE GOT TO BE FREAKING KIDDING!!! Time for Miles Edgeworth’s homeless shelter adventures!
“So where am I supposed to go, exactly?!”
“I don't know, Mr. Edgeworth! Do you have any relatives in town?”
“No!”
“Then I could drive you to a hotel!”
“My salary is effectively gone. I will not be earning anything and was just told that I had lost all my most valuable possessions which could have been sold. I can't waste what little money I will have after paying my court fees so frivolously!”
Another obnoxiously loud yawn passed Phoenix’s lips as he looked Miles in the eyes. “You can stay at my place. Until you find an apartment or a job or… something!”
Oh no… He was officially backed into a corner, forced to take something which was, by all accounts, a handout from none other than Phoenix Wright. He couldn't refuse no matter how badly his pride begged him to perhaps reconsider that homeless shelter. After all, even when Miles himself was completely and wholeheartedly convinced of his own guilt, Phoenix believed in his innocence. That's a level of faith he would be ashamed to reject so callously.
“I… I suppose I could.” Why did he seem so…shocked hearing that? Whatever, they would have plenty of time to discuss this once they would be together for hours and…gulp. About that overpass! No, be strong, Miles!
Gumshoe shrugged his shoulders, driving them both to the address Phoenix gave him, a somewhat unimpressive apartment building. He slid out of the backseat, thanking the detective and then beginning to walk inside like he already forgot he was having a guest over. Of course, Miles got out as well, following him inside but not before giving a thankful nod.
They walked up the stairs together in silence, the act annoying in and of itself. He had a house you didn't have to scale multiple sets of stairs to access. Keyword, had.
Phoenix opened the door as soon as they'd arrived before it, the number on it glistening slightly in the afternoon sun. The inside of his apartment was bathed in the same warm glow, even though the whole thing looked like a rampaging, rabid dog ran amuck inside. Perhaps Miles could help clean the place as a way of saying thanks.
Meanwhile, ever the bastion of hospitality, Phoenix began walking into his room without as much as another word.
“Excuse me?! Wright…! Where are you going?”
He turned back around, the exhaustion on his face even clearer now.
“To sleep. You can just uh… do stuff. I'll make your couch on the bed… bed on the couch when I wake up. Night, Edgeworth.”
“What—?!” Take a deep breath, beggars can't be choosers. “Right. Goodnight.”
What kind of host makes their guest sleep on the couch?! A bad one, that's what! Then again, he'd be staying here on Phoenix's dime for at least a week. Probably more. Not that he didn't intend to pay him back at the first opportunity, that ultimately changes nothing. He could never truly repay this debt, could he? Not to mention the money he owes for the miraculous act of getting him out of prison.
Sitting down on the couch that would become his bed for the foreseeable future, everything finally caught up to him. From the demon attorney that all defendants did hate to someone who, by all accounts, is homeless, out of a job and living in the… well, the living room of a childhood friend of his that he has no idea how to feel about!
Phoenix frustrated him beyond belief, confused him at every turn, and yet… When Miles told him never to talk to him again, he couldn't help but think that he'd made some grave mistake for days on end afterwards. The universe or whatever other higher power sure had an unmistakable path set out for their reunion.
And maybe, just maybe, he was grateful for that deep down.
Though this didn't discount his unfortunate situation of pennilessness. The years of law school? Down the drain. Might as well write an obituary for his career. With his current criminal record, he'd honestly be lucky to get hired into a 7/11.
And even if they're taken off his file, that sort of reputational blemish doesn't go away. From now on, even though he was ultimately declared innocent, people will simply see him as a murderer.
The chances are he can't use his law degree for anything other than to make a paper plane out of it. It's funny, really. You set out to achieve your goals, you succeed, make a name for yourself… Only to lose it all thanks to an adult with the emotional cycles of a baby. Someone who can't handle the thought of being a failure for once.
He could try and get some kind of decent job at a later date, maybe. For now, he needed something… anything! Any kind of consistent income to pay his bills. And an apartment. He certainly had the land his family home stood on, although depending on the damage, he might have to demolish the whole thing. And his car is now scrap metal.
Then, once the despair of this predicament subsidized a wee bit, he was hit with an all new wave of it. A burst of von Karmic injustice. There were many things he wished to tell that man, none of those words kind. While Miles usually considered himself to be above cursing, he would certainly make an exception. All those years of nightmares and guilt that were slowly killing him, the job he took partly just to punish himself… they were all thanks to him.
Maybe this career change would be for the better, though he got accustomed to living in luxury. Prosecution pays well. But less money would be alright so long as he'd live in comfort and have some peace of mind. That's what his father would have wanted.
Would he be proud of Miles? Of where he ended up, what he'd become? Or would he be disappointed that he didn't end up pursuing defense, after all? Curled up on the couch, he shed a couple of tears – been a little while since he last did.
After finally gathering himself, he stood back up. Looking around Phoenix’s apartment seemed like a good idea, just for a mental map of the place. The man's bedroom door was halfway open, it seemed to be the only additional room other than where he was right now. Well, not counting the bathroom – door also ajar. The fridge was nearly empty aside from three cans of Steel Samurai soda, half a bag of bread and something wrapped in foil (a burger, probably.) The cupboards didn’t fare much better, either. Maybe he should go right now and pick up some food from the general store he saw on the way here. So much for not spending. He grabbed his wallet, looking to see how much there was in it and then leaving the apartment, locking the door behind himself.
The shop seemed a little more plain than those Miles had been getting his groceries from for a while now, it'd have to do though. At first he began shopping for himself like he tended to do, only to realize that Phoenix very much had to eat, too. He had to buy things for both of them, which sounded strangely domestic in a nearly uncomfortable way. ‘You can't think like that!’, he thought to himself.
Slowly, his basket got filled up until it was heavy enough to strain against his arm a bit. One of the clerks gave him a weird look, probably recognizing him from the TV reports going around regarding his case. Now that he was trying to be economical, the total of all the goods climbing steadily made him a little worried. Still, it seemed a reasonable amount, so he paid in cash and began tossing all the goods into a plastic shopping bag.
Back inside the apartment, he put away the goods. What does Phoenix like eating in the first place? Miles could hardly remember such menial things from their shared childhood memories. Either way, every household needs essentials such as rice, flour and whatnot.
Next, it was time to clean up a little. There were empty cans and bottles around, a sink full of dirty dishes, and so many scattered documents that piling them on each other would make up a full packet of printer paper. Beginning to gather them, and though unintentionally, he read the header on one of the files.
“TRIAL TRANSCRIPT
DATE : 2016/12/26”
Another one.
“CASE SUMMARY
DL-6
DATE : 2001/12/28
INCIDENT REPORT”
So it wasn’t that Phoenix simply lived life as an absolute slob, he was wholeheartedly focused on Miles’s case so intensely that everything else took a backseat in his life.
His heart began beating faster than before.
It’d been fifteen years, coming up on sixteen. And yet, those stupid, foolish feelings of his have persisted. He thought he was over this, he should have been. Who in their right mind would fall back in love with their first ever childhood ‘crush’ after years upon years?
In 2001, there was so little to know about homosexuality, at least in regards to what information Miles could access. To the point that the inherent idea of it filled him with dread. It can’t be right, can it? No, boys have to like girls. That’s what was shown to him in every cartoon, movie and story. Always a prince and a princess, in love forever.
For years after moving away, he pretended he’d forgotten. Forgotten that the only time those elusive thoughts of romance found him was in Phoenix’s vicinity. Then, beginning to find his way around internet forums, he finally managed to put a name to his predicament. Gay, homosexual, pick your poison. But that didn’t make self acceptance any easier, the idea of being othered for something he had no control over weighing him down. Then again, he didn’t fall in love with a man for a second time, so there was nothing to worry about. Think about the future, Miles, don’t let this get the better of you. That’s what he told himself. No time for relationships anyway, for those who actually aspire to achieve something.
And then, like an unwanted parasite having laid dormant for all this time, his feelings returned fervently as soon as that absolute IDIOT stumbled back into his life. Out of every profession there was, why, oh WHY did Phoenix decide to become a defense attorney? The world has a funny way of working itself out, no matter how hard one tries to fight it.
Having stacked all the pages, Miles began washing the dishes, noting annoyedly that the sponge was almost in two pieces and he had no idea where to find a replacement. Besides, it would have been so easy to rinse all these coffee mugs out after use and it would have taken no effort to wash them! But no, he has to slave away on them, and…oh, yeah. Phoenix was slaving away trying to get him out of jail.
Taking down the trash as well as finally mopping the floor after what he could only assume to be weeks, it was time for some self-care. Namely, a shower. The situation inside the bathroom was also a little…hectic, a fairly large pile of dirty laundry sitting in one corner. Of course he ended up madly in love with this absolute master of self preservation…He walked into the cabin, starting up the warm water and helping himself to a handful of shower gel, allowing it to rinse him of dirt, both literal and metaphorical.
Thinking about it…There were a lot of things about Phoenix that he was drawn to. His unshakable sense of justice, his belief in people until the bitter end and even past it, and his goodwill, which ultimately led to Miles having a place to sleep tonight that wasn’t a park bench or eating harshly into his limited funds.
Getting out of the shower and wrapping a towel around his waist, he looked into the fogged up bathroom mirror. Curse that man and all his admirable qualities. And curse the fact they’d be staying together like some weird sitcom about roommates that seem much more suited for each other than the love interests they end up with.
It’d been a long day, and to be perfectly honest, Miles was plain exhausted. He hadn’t been given the promised bedding but a couch still seemed serviceable enough for a night's rest even without all the fancy bells and whistles. Besides, out of the people in this apartment, one of them had a significantly longer day and it sure as heck wasn’t him. Who cares that it’s still just the afternoon? Time is but an illusion for the unemployed.
After successfully drying himself and putting on the same shirt he’d worn during the day (any clothes he could’ve potentially borrowed were most likely in Phoenix’s bedroom, not to be sneakily entered while he was asleep) he laid down on the couch.
This was one of those stupid daydreams he had as a teen, between two periods of denial. That he’d magically run into his childhood friend somewhere once he’d grown up, and due to contrivance of the highest order, they’d become roommates who secretly harbored feelings for each other. Then, in a dramatic moment of honesty, most likely out in the rain, they’d confess everything they’d been holding back, sharing a single kiss…
Sometimes dreams come through, even if not in their entirety. And sometimes, just sometimes, so do our worst nightmares.