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“When it comes to work ethic, you’ll never beat Edgeworth, not even on a sick day.”
Detective Gumshoe has always had a soft spot for Miles Edgeworth, and he never turns down an opportunity to show it.
Phoenix was simply minding his own business, doing an initial investigation of a ‘damage to personal property’ and theft case of all things, and it just so happened—Gumshoe is there.
He’d been taking measurements of some stairs, destroyed by a landlord, when Gumshoe approached him, talking about how "he didn’t expect Phoenix to take such a simple case.”
Well, it was a peaceful two weeks. He needed to pay the bills, and somehow, the conversation went to talks about catching up on other prosecutors, and how better prosecutors out there always seem to have work.
Gumshoe took the opportunity to turn a conversation about ‘better prosecutors’ to his favorite one. Edgeworth. He says his name like he’s balancing chocolate at the tip of his tongue.
“Edgeworth… Sick leave?” Phoenix asks, one raised eyebrow.
Gumshoe is still raving about that sick leave.
Phoenix would argue that he had in fact drafted pleadings and comments while eating breakfast in bed. This didn’t seem like anything special, but he listens because Gumshoe mentions a hospital, the exact same one Phoenix would be going to for his investigation.
So he lets him talk and talk and talk.
Gumshoe knew a lot about how good Edgeworth was, but it didn’t look like he knew anything else about Miles Edgeworth.
All he mentioned is a sick note, signed by a doctor from a hospital, and he’d even showed it to Phoenix—Phoenix doesn’t think it’s legal, but he doesn’t say anything.
Instead, he makes the visit to the hospital with the intention of meeting a doctor to sign off on the extent of physical injuries—for purposes of liquidating damages. Yes, that could have been an email. He could have probably sent an assistant to do it, but he wanted to thank the doctors personally for their hardwork, and it just so happened he had other business there.
Or so, that’s what the email he’d drafted said.
One of his businesses there is Edgeworth.
The other is the medical reports.
He refuses to admit which one is the main business, but when he’s by the reception and the receptionist is asking about his business, he has to give a name, and to get past the nurse’s desk and into the row of rooms, he has to give the name of a patient.
Fine.
“Miles Edgeworth…” the woman at the reception says. “Prosecutor… Miles Edgeworth?” She seems suspicious, because maybe a lot of people would have loved the opportunity to murder Miles Edgeworth. Phoenix could understand why.
Or.
It could be jealousy… Phoenix would have hated to assume that it was. After all, there’s nothing remarkable about him as a defense lawyer, but he can’t so much as ignore the nurses who are giggling in the corner, and the shifty eyes as they glance at one another, as if they’re making conversation through looks alone.
They lead him up to the penthouse where the more expensive of the hospital rooms are—very much Edgeworth-branded.
When he’s making way into the room, one brave nurse asks, “Is he your friend?”
Their relationship is complicated, so Phoenix has to stare at anything—the wall or the ceiling—something for inspiration. “You could say that.” He can’t find any other way to explain it, and there’s no reason to correct her.
The word ‘friend’ is just so general, unassuming, and it could mean anything.
Technically, they are friends. He’s genuinely worried about the prosecutor, and admittedly, there is a unique sense of excitement with having Edgeworth on the other side, and he wouldn’t admit it now (or ever), but he always feels disappointed to see Winston Payne prosecuting cases—not Edgeworth.
“He’s just gotten out of surgery, but here, we believe guests can help with the recovery process.”
Phoenix cocks his head to the side. “Surgery?” The medical note from Edgeworth didn’t say anything about surgery.
“Just a routine surgery. Appendicitis,” the nurse explains, as if she’d read his mind.
Routine surgery. Really? Well, it’s believable and reasonable, but Edgeworth’s condition post so-called routine surgery has Phoenix doubting it anyway.
Because if it was such a routine surgery, why was Miles Edgeworth, a ruthless prosecutor…smiling of all things?
“Pheonix…” he says Phoenix’s first name through the widest smile, which has Phoenix taking a few steps back to the check the placard on the door, just to make sure this was really Miles Edgeworth, because to the Miles Edgeworth, that he knew, Phoenix Wright was simply Wright, never Phoenix.
“What happened?” Phoenix asks as he makes his way back into the room. There’s a comfortable chair next to the bed, but he doesn’t take it, because if he were honest, he’s still not exactly sure if he’s welcome or not, if there’s another Phoenix he should have been aware of.
Edgeworth’s smile only gets wider, and he slaps the bed. “Sit…Sit…”
He says it twice, so it’s definitely an order.
“Sit.”
He says it a third time, and this time, he’s staring expectantly at Phoenix, so Phoenix doesn’t just know he’s that same Phoenix the prosecutor is talking about—he also feels obliged to now.
He sits by the bed, and Edgeworth lays back down on the bed that had been bent at angle so he could lean back without falling completely back on the bed. “I was looking forward to seeing you again in court… but unfortunately…” He waves one hand towards his bedside table and lets out a sigh.
He’s always known Miles Edgeworth to be a drama king, but on any normal day, he was at least subtle about it.
“Open the drawer,” he orders.
Phoenix, feeling like his assistant just for the day, opens the drawer to find a stack of paperwork—lawyer type of paperwork.
All drafts of information and pleadings, Phoenix tries to forget everything as his eyes run over them, knowing full well that dabbling with another lawyer’s case could be grounds to lose his license. “Do you need anything?” He stares back up at Edgeworth, and gives the young prosecutor onceover.
Somehow, this served as a comforting reminder that Miles Edgeworth, as much of a prodigy as he is, was still human.
When it comes to work ethic, you’ll never beat Edgeworth, not even on a sick day.
Detective Gumshoe wasn’t the type to lie, but he did have a tendency to stretch the truth. Phoenix’d cross-examined that detective enough times to know.
And he isn’t lying, because somebody had to have brought the paperwork into the hospital room, even if Edgeworth was in no condition to address it.
“Help me out?” Edgeworth says. “There’s a case I’m investigating.” He turns to Phoenix, an excited grin on his case. “Everything's a complete blur for me right now, so I’ve had to turn over most of my files to another prosecutor…because of this…” He drops his head down as if a gesture to what was likely the surgical wound in his stomach. “...but just in case… draft the subpoena for me?”
He gestures to the drawer on the other side, which turns out—contained his laptop. He says out loud a string of numbers, which Phoenix soon picks up as the password.
“Subpoenas folder… he says.”
“Subpoena… 3…7…” Edgeworth recites the numbers slowly, and being the sixth number, Phoenix didn’t even have to listen, because somehow, he just knew.
“6262?” Phoenix asks, as he clicks on the case.
“How did you know?” Edgeworth asks, his eyes widening almost unnaturally that on any other day, Phoenix would have been convinced it was sarcasm.
“Well the docket number of the case is here,” Phoenix says.
“Oh.”
An awkward silence follows, and for a moment Edgeworth looks away. The past few minutes, Phoenix's almost forgotten that man was still capable of shame.
The silence gives Phoenix a few minutes to look through the file.
He reads the header above the subpoena.
Damage to Property
People v. Brokerson
You are hereby ordered by the Prosecutor office to…
He stares back up at Edgeworth in question, and their eyes meet as soon as he looks up, and Edgeworth was…smiling?
“Are you okay?” Phoenix asks.”
“I just… This is my first time seeing you do paperwork. It’s a novel sight.” He clears his throat. A faint blush lines his cheeks and he turns towards the window, his back to Phoenix.
“And what exactly is this subpoena for?” Phoenix asks, an attempt at digression.
“A witness… for a case…” he says.
“Property damage case?” Phoenix says.
“No, it's a murder case…”
“But it says here…”He's about to say the name.
“Ignore that,” Edgeworth orders. There's a hint of panic in his voice. “Write over it.”
It isn't strange at all for lawyers to copy and paste their drafts, just changing names and pertinent details.
But this case… isn't this Prosecutor Payne’s case?
“Property Damage. People v. Brokerson… I didn't know you were into small fry cases,” Phoenix says.
“I'm not… but if it gets raffled to me…”
Phoenix has never been a prosecutor but he knows full well that the raffle system did not necessarily apply to someone as prodigious as Miles Edgeworth unless he asks for it.
And really, did he just admit that it's his case? “I thought it was prosecutor Payne's case.”
“It is…” Edgeworth says. “While I'm here.” He adds as clarification.
“So I'll be seeing you in court?” Phoenix asks
A loud pause follows.
“Oh, you're the defense?” Edgeworth asks.
One thing Phoenix has come to realize as he stares expectantly at Edgeworth is how much of a bad actor he could be, when he's caught off guard.
A nurse comes in. “Mr. Edgeworth. Anything for the pain?”
Edgeworth shakes his head. “No thank you, I've had more than enough.” He covers his mouth and lets out an awkward cough. When he drops his hand, the smile is no longer there.
He's coming to his senses, and it has only dawned on him now. This Edgeworth is a post-surgery drugged Edgeworth, and why is he only figuring this out? His mind's usually faster than this.
“Wright… you're all red.” This time, Edgeworth's just stating observations. This time, it's the prosecutor Edgeworth tone that he knows so well that's talking.
But it's too late the damage has been done.
Phoenix holds one hand to his mouth, just to hide the smile that spilled out. “It's the stress.”