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When Phoenix Wright burst through the doors into the prosecution office on the twelfth floor, his rival and more importantly his friend was already there waiting for him.
He was still catching his breath, after he’d run the entire three blocks from the courthouse and up the flights of stairs in between them. Letting Edgeworth get too far away in the plain black rental car he’d tracked him to hadn’t been an option. The afternoon was getting late, and Phoenix couldn"t shake the feeling he was as well, that after he thought he had already saved the day that time was running out again.
Shortly before that, Edgeworth had crept into the defense lobby after the trial, mournfully watching the reconciliation of Phoenix’s client with her sister after the legal team spent two days together trying to help them. He"d been hiding behind some topiary and fled when they noticed him, overwhelmed, and Phoenix made his farewells quick to catch up with him.
Thirty minutes earlier, there was a strange electricity that filled the courtroom, as the corrupt Chief of Police made his final threats and warnings, some last-ditch manipulation that bordered on sincerity. Then they were escorting him out in handcuffs, and they"d won, but it didn"t completely feel like victory. Phoenix tried to catch the eye of his opposition, another attempt at communicating with the man who had acted more like his partner over the last few days. Edgeworth remained silent, solemnly packing away his files, his hair falling like a silver curtain across his face.
A day before, he"d walked into this same fussy over-furnished office to find Edgeworth writing a letter of resignation. That was largely the reason he was here, because fifteen years ago, a much smaller Miles had smiled at him in the glow of a summer afternoon. His cheeks were rosy when he’d taken his hand, and Phoenix tucked a small flower over his ear. He’d laughed, bright and clear, when they rolled together down the hill they’d just climbed, his pulse in his ears like crickets calling to each other.
No one else felt Edgeworth’s tragedy the way Phoenix had when the other boy left him. For all those years, Edgeworth had been one of the two ghosts that haunted the courthouse after the incident, and Phoenix was determined the only way to bring him back was to make him remember those two childhood friends. He was going to see Phoenix as more than lost innocence and whimsy, as more than a cheap blue suit with wild swept-back black hair and a sheepish grin.
Room 1202 was dark except for the faded daylight shining between the rosy curtains and onto a letter on a refined desk. Those features were too fanciful to be imposing, not unlike the man he"d startled, half-shadowed and still, his hair shining like an electric halo.
Edgeworth himself was more than a vampire wannabe dressed in bloodstains with a personality to match. There was still a heart under those ruffles.
They regarded each other for a moment, anticipating their next actions. Then Phoenix darted forward as the prosecutor raced to snatch the evidence away from him. He dove over the sofa then slid across the work surface, claiming the paper with a triumphant grin. He laid across the sturdy furniture as Edgeworth glowered back.
When Edgeworth’s exasperation didn’t diminish, his attention wandered. “Is that Signal Red? That"s what you went for?” Phoenix asked, and the austere man grimaced, clutching at the toy keychain representing his half of their youthful connection. “I thought you said you didn’t know where yours was.”
"Wright," he said, his voice flat and somewhere between warning and wounded. "What are you doing here?”
Not the most promising opening, and he wasn"t getting an answer to his question. Phoenix tried another tactic. "I thought there might be some post-trial paperwork to do together." He glanced around at all the spotless surfaces around them - while the office normally was fastidiously clean, it"d also seemingly been cleared out since the last time he"d been in here. Edgeworth normally at least had some files stuffed into his organizer. "Or we could talk," he offered instead, hopeful.
Those steely eyes narrowed suspiciously at him, and Edgeworth crossed his arms. "You"ve never helped before and I saw examples of your homework from back in school, Wright. You hate busywork."
"Yeah but you like it." That wasn"t a convincing argument, but he did see a very slight twitch in Edgeworth"s eyebrow that told him he wasn"t entirely wrong. He held out the paper he"d taken. "I could edit for you?"
"Give me that!" His hand just missed as Phoenix pulled it out of reach again. Edgeworth fumed at him. "I swear, I think you act so childish with me out of some misguided sense of nostalgia."
Phoenix sprawled over the surface in response, smug as he fully explored the space and made himself at home.
He sighed at him, then brushed down his suit jacket and sat back down against the cushions of his elegant high-backed desk chair. "You realize, of course, that I can easily just write it again."
Yeah, that was a completely transparent bluff. "So I can still read this?" Phoenix asked.
He paused mid-rummage through one of the side drawers for paper, a calculating side-eye glint. Maybe that should have been more of a warning. Even with Edgeworth’s intellectual law fanboying and the occasional endearing shyness, he also had the same build and color scheme as an upside down brick house. Those soft vulnerabilities could become hard edges in an instant. He was all muscle over a surprising amount of curves, and Phoenix could easily imagine the demon prosecutor trying to pin him. He probably wouldn’t have any idea what to do next, and Phoenix honestly wouldn’t try very hard to get away anyway, but for that and other reasons Edgeworth would have the advantage.
The moment passed, and Edgeworth smoothed out a sheet of new stationary, nudging his personal nuisance out of the way hard enough that Phoenix had to catch his balance. “You’ve taken a document from the desk of opposing counsel without asking, it could be confidential, and would be inadmissible anyway.”
“Maybe if you ever actually honored discovery,” Phoenix muttered.
The prosecutor smirked to himself before he caught it, and Phoenix perked up at the sight. Edgeworth wasn’t even looking at him and still got flustered. “I’m not doing your job for you, Wright,” he replied sharply, trying to put more distance back between them.
“That’s why I always have to do my own investigating.” Phoenix rolled onto his side to watch his attempt to write intently, trying to ignore a growing sense of dread.
Edgeworth clicked his pen, self-conscious under the attention. His fluttering ruffles moved in a distracting way across his chest as he took a breath, exaggerating the motion, and finally he put his papers aside to confront him directly. “Yet you haven’t even started with your ill-gotten evidence. What’s the catch?" he demanded.
You are, Phoenix briefly considered saying, but actually made a good decision for once. He could respect boundaries. Sometimes. He could make an effort at least, after trying to find him for a decade and a half. So if Edgeworth didn"t want him to read the note, he wouldn"t.
There was probably an alternate timeline here, where Edgeworth saw the way Phoenix"s gaze softened while looking at him. Maybe Phoenix could convince him that nothing about their position was compromising, that the moment was just an extension of who they both were. He"d save Edgeworth from his own brooding, every day, their future painted into their destiny like a beautiful inevitability. They"d fall in love and get married and get a studio that Phoenix would cover in artwork of him, then adopt one-point-five loud children and a fluffy dog.
That, or he"d find out exactly what Edgeworth was supposedly doing alone in his office the times he"d been overheard whispering Phoenix"s name. At this point he"d happily accept either option.
The problem was, even if he knew exactly how it could happen, he wanted Edgeworth to choose him back.
"There doesn"t have to be one," Phoenix answered instead. His voice came out lower and quieter than he intended. He caught a flash of surprise, and then Edgeworth turned his face away, as if stung. "Hey, no, wait, I didn"t mean that you owe me anything or that I"m asking for anything -"
Edgeworth nearly tripped over his own chair to stand and escape, and tried to give an intimidating glare, but his eyes darted towards every corner of the office that didn"t include Phoenix, the color on his pale face matching the first hints of a late February twilight. "Then what are you suggesting?" he asked, adjusting the hem of his jacket.
An entire world of possibility opened up with that one question, and a different kind of excitement fluttered through Phoenix. He pushed himself up, hanging his legs over the side of the desk. “Let’s get out of here. Live a little. I know you, I doubt you’ve ever even been irresponsible. Leave someone else holding the bag for once instead of letting them pin everything on you, instead of standing around long enough to find out who else was benefiting from Gant as Chief of Police.”
The glance the prosecutor gave him was full of every attempted treachery from the last few months and fifteen years against him, the isolation and constant distrust. “Will that get you over this bizarre obsession you have with me? Or at least get you off my desk?”
He was one to talk. For the past couple days, Phoenix had to pretend that a black rental sedan hadn’t been following him home from the courthouse while Edgeworth"s ostentatious red sports car was stuck as evidence. Despite himself, in between gushing about him behind his back, Edgeworth was also worried about him. Overpowering grief tended to make a person reluctant to lose anyone else. “You’ve been my purpose for fifteen years,” Phoenix answered, less an assurance and more an admission and an offer to return the favor. They could even revisit the desk option, he’d already tested the weight capacity anyway.
Edgeworth tapped a finger against his bicep, far less enthusiastic, thinking and assessing and deeply suspicious. “What if I refuse?”
Phoenix leaned forward on his palms, looking up at the fairytale prince through the light streaming around him. He was a vision of elegant, lavish grace and a veneer of barely restrained tolerance that sometimes gave way to amusement or even affection. At this point he’d take it, and then some. “I’ll tell everyone I kissed you,” he told him, guilelessly. "Whether it"s the truth or not is up to you."
He was baffled enough that his placid mask briefly slipped, the one that showed up whenever Edgeworth thought he had to hide his emotions or that he might act improper. "Why would you... You aren"t even -"
"I became a lawyer to save you, remember?" It didn"t really matter what he was. It had all led up to defending him, defending Edgeworth, whether it was from the rumors, the accusations, his mentor, or from himself. There was something predetermined in his shrug.
Edgeworth shook his head, falling back on his courtroom persona. "I can assure you, Wright, attorney-client privilege doesn"t work that way. Your claim does more harm to you than it would to me." He was smart, and Phoenix could see the moment that he figured it out, alarm and confusion and concerned disapproval flickering across his features in quick succession. "That"s not what a hostage negotiation means either."
"Glad you agree," Phoenix said brightly, and dropped to his feet and offered his arm. “Shall we?”
For a moment he was frozen. The expression of a good soldier, subtly at attention and standing by for orders, a puppet with his strings cut. Then Edgeworth rolled his eyes and brushed by him.
They made their way down the abandoned stairwell, concrete and utilitarian, and waited while the parking garage mechanisms recalled that now familiar car. Edgeworth frowned at his knowing smile, and settled into the driver’s side, disgruntled. He tapped the steering wheel as his interloper hopped in and acquainted himself with the passenger seat, playing with the buttons for the radio and on board computer system.
Finally Edgeworth caught his hand, and Phoenix imagined for a moment that he wanted to hold it. "Stop that, I need to think - "
"About what you"re going to do next?" he asked, hopeful.
"I... was hoping you had some idea." An aggravated sigh answered him, and Edgeworth shook his head. "Of course you don"t have a plan. Why am I surprised?"
He"d been so focused on helping him that he hadn"t really thought much about the after. Sure, he"d imagined spending time with him again, tinged with their dynamic from childhood, but after how badly their first reunion went he didn"t have any expectations. Edgeworth had seemed so far out of reach.
Now that he had this chance, though, he wasn"t going to complain. "I have lots of them!" Phoenix insisted.
Edgeworth glanced over impatiently as he pondered all the options. He ruled out most of the restaurants he knew and could afford, food poisoning was the last thing they needed. A movie was probably too casual - Edgeworth and popcorn wouldn"t be a good combination, at least not without a silver spoon - and there wouldn"t be time to get tickets for a stage play. There were a lot of art museums within walking or driving distance from downtown, and Phoenix could always banter over finding the most cliche piece in the gallery, but most of them would be closing by now. The beach or a boardwalk was out, too cold, and while watching Edgeworth walk blank faced through an amusement park might be entertaining in its own way, and while he thought he might be able to get him to agree to just about anything at this point, that probably wasn"t going to help either of them.
Nothing seemed equal to any part of where they were or what they"d been through. There was a romance in saving someone, and he was going to make it count. "I"m just not the important consideration here," Phoenix told him. He clasped at his grip in return, earnest, his gaze filled with whirling thoughts of vows and wedding rings. "I mean, what if this, right now, was the start of the rest of your life. What would you do?"
There was the flash of anguish he"d seen before, and Edgeworth pulled away, unable to look at him. "I know what I"d do if it was my last day." He turned the key in the ignition.
"Maybe not that," Phoenix said, nervously. They started back along the line of cars, slowly moving towards the outside and the remnants of daylight. "What if there"s an in between option, what if you just take everything a step at a time?"
Edgeworth took a deep breath. "I... If it were an average evening, or a particularly awful one," and he said it like there was very little difference between the two, "I"d go for a drive to get my mind off it all. There"s a long meandering stretch of road at the crest of the Santa Monica mountains, not far from where I live, with lookout spots along the way, and that works particularly well." He finally seemed to come to a decision, the engine thrumming with his new intention. "I have matters to take care of at my apartment anyway, and I suppose it"s not like I"m in a hurry anymore. I can take the long way back." He steered them out of the parking terrace and onto the busy streets of downtown.
For his part, Phoenix hoped his plans included sleeping. If the last two days had been similar for him, and maybe even more hectic, then he"d stayed up all night working on legal arguments.
They fell quiet for a while as they navigated the stop and go traffic, but it was comfortable, and some of the tension and anxiety left them. Phoenix was able to enjoy the extra luxurious padding in the seats now that he felt like he"d bought some time. The sky was shifting towards technicolor, the sun catching some high feathery clouds ablaze that had started gathering, promising some rare rainfall for the morning.
There was more turbulence in the way Edgeworth was weaving between cars like they were parked. Phoenix hoped the sunset wasn"t an omen for crashing and burning.
The street lights were just starting to come on as Edgeworth pulled off again and took them over a bridge. Phoenix brightened in recognition. "Wait, this is where you live? I"ve always wanted to come out here!" This was promising, a lot of the lookout spots he’d mentioned doubled as makeout spots.
Edgeworth frowned over at him. "Your residence is less than fifteen miles away."
Phoenix grinned, opting not to call him on knowing exactly where his own apartment was. "Yeah, but I didn"t want to bike up the hill. There were so many movie scenes filmed along this drive!" Edgeworth hummed, listening, though the way the street was now winding around to climb up to the ridge was taking more of his focus. "Like those two acting rivals who forgot about their conflict and fell in love.” Then he remembered that they’d nearly gotten each other killed. He quickly stammered out a cover for the mistake. “O-or that musical that came out last year that won the awards, you know, with all the wire-work dancing and that one iconic scene waltzing at twilight?"
"Sounds frivolous," he scoffed.
"No, you don"t understand," Phoenix gasped in mock outrage, then he sighed dreamily, head in the clouds and city lights in his eyes. "It was all about what might have been. They meet, their careers bring them together, they spend a night under the stars wishing for what they could be - " he trailed off, realizing that the couple in that movie eventually drifted apart as well, despite the wistfulness and longing.
Edgeworth noticed the hesitation. “There isn’t a happy ending, is there?”
Phoenix glanced away into the growing shadows around them, caught. “A lot of them have one, childhood friends and even rivalries are really common tropes.”
“Not those. Not the ones you’d compare with my situation.” He clenched the wheel tighter. “You know what I’m planning. I haven’t exactly been subtle about it, and I know you’re smart enough to figure it out. I don’t know why you’re pretending otherwise unless you’re simply in denial.”
“Well, we could just make our own happiness then,” the idealist suggested stubbornly, almost hiding the worry in his voice and refusing to respond to the other half of the conversation. Maybe he could chase away the gathering darkness if he tried hard enough.
Edgeworth looked haunted. "I think you were right before," he muttered, nervously pressing the gas pedal as if he could run away. "My life as I know it is basically over.”
“That isn’t true,” Phoenix argued, almost begging.
They took a curve fast enough that it turned into a drift. “Oh really?” he challenged. “My mentor will die because of me. My father is dead because of me. I almost locked you up and threw away the key.”
“I didn’t mind!” he insisted. Maybe it had hurt at the time, but everything worthwhile did, and it hadn’t stopped him from caring when Edgeworth needed it.
“I"m the reason the last chief prosecutor is in prison, and after this I doubt I"ll be allowed near the office again, let alone the courthouse.” He shook his head, the car jerking off course for a moment. “I"ve made too many enemies, even before we factor in the allies that Gant might still have." He let out a shuddering breath. "One way or another, I have to leave."
“You could try Europe? Maybe?” Phoenix proposed tentatively, trying to ignore the growing nausea from the car ride. He’d like to go there someday, he’d been saving his money for a study abroad program for his art major before he’d had to use it all to pay for law school. He even had his passport, and he could probably convince Edgeworth to cover the costs for him. “Find somewhere you have friends and family instead of enemies?”
“The only family I still know might have always been a lie.”
“Then what about me?” he finally blurted, the desperation exploding from him as Edgeworth wove around another turn. The valley seemed to stretch out forever beside them, empty space over a starlight void. “I don’t want to die, and I don’t want you to die either!”
He squeezed his eyes shut as the car finally jumped a curb, the back wheels catching with a squeal, turning the car away from the edge despite the momentum. They just sat together for a moment, hyperventilating and united by a mutual panicked realization about what had almost happened.
Then he forced the door open, leaping out like the engine was on fire.
“Phoenix!” Edgeworth called after him, opening the driver’s side door to follow. There was a tone in his voice, somewhere between apology and need, but the first name was what caused him to stop and listen. “I didn’t - it wasn’t my intention - I thought I had to, it was my job when I accused you.”
The streetlight above him was shining warm and golden, highlighting a few sprouts otherwise hidden in the night along the hillside. There were little yellow blooms that were too early for sunflowers, but held some promise eventually.
“You weren’t trying to kill me?” Phoenix asked, his voice small but hopeful. Edgeworth started to apologize again, and he couldn’t stand to hear it. “I knew it,” he smiled. “I knew you wouldn’t - not ever, not after I knew you.” So many had tried before, even when he’d thought he’d loved them, he wasn’t sure he could survive if this was more of the same. He turned back, and managed a little laugh, and also tried to wipe at his eyes before they betrayed him. “Can you imagine what it would be like if I’d been waiting this long and changed my whole life for you, only for you to resent me? If I couldn’t save you? What would I even have left?”
There was another little murmur, a whisper of fear and assurance that sounded like his name again, and Edgeworth reached out, grasping at his lapel. He pulled him in close, and before Phoenix could even think or celebrate what was happening, their lips met, reunited at last. He made a soft, pleased sound into his mouth, and the prosecutor chased it like an argument, more passionate and alive than Phoenix had seen him in months.
“What are you doing to me,” he wondered between kisses, though the question lacked any bite, like he already knew the answer. He should anyway, Phoenix had already told him - he was teaching him about what it meant to really live. Someday they’d come back here, healed, when they could breathe the air again and find peace. Maybe then they’d see the hillside covered in wildflowers, and be renewed among them.
“It"ll be okay,” Phoenix answered, without pulling away, running his hands through silvered hair like he could become tangled in him and never let go. "Just trust me."