Chapter Text
—
Phoenix's phone rings as he's trudging down the stairs of the courthouse. He answers it without looking at the caller ID — of the small group of people who have his phone number, there's an even smaller group who would actually call him, especially at a time like this. "Hello?"
"Wright."
Phoenix stops short. "Edgeworth?"
"Yes. Are you expecting another call?"
"No, I just…" Phoenix glances up at the sky, trying to pull his brain out of the circles it's been running in for the last eight or so hours. "It's been a while."
"Indeed." Edgeworth pauses. "I see Miss Cykes has taken the lead on the defense for the Clarke case."
"Yeah, we just got out of court. Is that why you're calling?"
"No. It is not."
"Okay," Phoenix says. "So…"
In the sky above, the sun dips behind a coral-dappled cloud that, if Phoenix squints hard enough, looks like a hand giving him the middle finger. Say what you want about the universe, but at least it has a sense of humor. Unlike the person he's currently talking to.
Which, speaking of: "Edgeworth? Are you still there?"
"I was wondering," Edgeworth says, ignoring his question. "If you would have time to meet at some point in the — in the near future."
"To — meet?"
"Yes. Preferably in private." Edgeworth clears his throat. "I will explain more in person. Do you have time?"
"Depends."
"I see. And what, precisely, does it depend on?"
"On — when. Not until this trial's over, but it should be done by Wednesday unless something crazy happens. Which it might. But if it doesn't — I could do any day after that." Phoenix frowns. 'In person' means Edgeworth doesn't want to tell him over the phone, and the only things Phoenix can think of that Edgeworth wouldn't want to tell him over the phone would be related to the Jurist System, or to big stuff, like if Edgeworth had just found out he had a month to live. Although Phoenix wouldn't exactly put it past him to send out a mass email, in that case — he'd probably sign it ‘kind regards’ instead of ‘regards’ and call it a day. "Why? Does it have something to do with the committee?"
"No," Edgeworth says quickly. "Mm. That is…"
He trails off. Phoenix tugs at his tie as he waits, suddenly conscious of the fact that the breeze from earlier has all but died out.
"It is not exactly — urgent," Edgeworth says. He sounds slightly embarrassed, though Phoenix is pretty sure that's just him hearing things. "But I would still like to speak to you about it in person. Shall we say — five-fifteen on Thursday, at your office?"
"Mr. Wright?" Phoenix turns around to see Athena standing a few steps above him. Her ponytail is drooping, and probably not, Phoenix thinks, just because of the heat.
"Wright?"
"Uh, yeah." Phoenix holds one finger up. Athena nods, staring morosely at her boots. Given how today went, Phoenix is probably going to be spending the night at the office tonight, if he's not out helping her gather evidence and re-examine the crime scene. "Sure. Trucy has a show at six-thirty, but five —“
“Five-fifteen.”
“Yeah, five-fifteen. That should be fine. Listen, I have to go."
“Very well. I will see you on Thursday. At five-fifteen.”
“Great,” Phoenix says, and hangs up before Edgeworth is able to get in so much as a goodbye. "Sorry Athena."
Athena shakes her head. "I'm sorry, Mr. Wright. I let you down today."
"You didn't," Phoenix tells her, firmly shoving Miles Edgeworth and all associated baggage to the back of his mind. It's no easy task, especially considering how much baggage there is to shove, but there are more important things to focus on right now. Like the case, and the trial today, and the fact that Phoenix is an honest-to-God mentor now. A lawyer doesn't cry until it's all over, and, judging by the way Athena's lip is trembling, it's about to be over very soon if Phoenix doesn't stop trying to figure out what the hell Edgeworth is thinking and get focused on what’s actually important right now.
"Athena.” She looks up. “This is a difficult case, and you did the best you could with the evidence you had at the start of it. There was no way you could have known about the letter."
Athena nods. "Okay. Sorry, Mr. Wright.”
"Don't apologize." Phoenix checks his watch. "We don't have time for that."
"What do you mean?"
"Visiting hours are going to be over in half an hour." Phoenix starts walking down the steps, glancing behind him when Athena doesn't immediately follow. "I'm guessing Mr. Clarke might be a little more open to talking than he was yesterday. Narrowly avoiding a guilty verdict tends to have that effect on people."
The determination returns to Athena's eyes, and she grins. "You're right. Hey, maybe this was the wake-up call he needed!"
"That's the spirit," Phoenix says. "Come on. This case isn't going to solve itself."
On that, Phoenix is definitely proven correct. As far as his assumption that Clarke might want to talk to them, Phoenix is proven wrong. Very, very wrong, as it turns out. And it's a testament to how wrong he is about Clarke, how convoluted the case turns out to be, and how hard they have to fight for their eventual victory that Phoenix somehow manages to forget all about Miles Edgeworth And The Possibly Terrible, Probably No Good, Very Sudden Appointment until it's 5:14 PM on Thursday afternoon, and there's a knock at his office door.
—
Phoenix pulls it open. A little too forcefully, as it turns out, because the blinds rattle and Edgeworth takes a step back, looking slightly alarmed. "...Is this a bad time?"
"Uh," Phoenix says. "No. Well — kind of, but — come in."
Edgeworth hesitates for a moment, but he follows Phoenix when Phoenix turns, waving him impatiently inside. "Sorry. I thought — I'm running late."
"For Trucy's performance, I presume?"
"Yeah. I thought it started at six-thirty, but it actually starts at six." Which Phoenix had learned as he was saying goodbye to her that morning, with one foot literally out of the door. "Sorry. I kind of — there's that, and to be completely honest I forgot we were meeting. It's been a crazy couple of days."
"I see," Edgeworth says, which Phoenix knows in this case is Edgeworth for I don't see at all, what in God's name are you talking about. "Is this performance — special in some way?"
"Nope." Phoenix starts unbuttoning his shirt, looking up to see Edgeworth looking away, cheeks tinged pink. Maybe dressing like a character from a Jane Austen movie is starting to make him even more of a prude than he already is — it's not like he hasn't seen Phoenix in a t-shirt before. "Why?"
Edgeworth still doesn't look at him as Phoenix takes the dress shirt off, though his nose does wrinkle when Phoenix slings it over the back of his chair along with his waistcoat rather than hanging it up on a velvet hanger in a temperature-controlled closet, or whatever he's actually supposed to do with it. "I simply thought that you would be fatigued after the Clarke trial."
"I am. But I'm still going."
"You have had to miss some of her performances for other obligations, on occasion. I highly doubt she insisted on your attendance at this one."
He's right, though Phoenix isn't going to tell him as much. Trucy had only given him the ticket on the caveat that they go straight home and straight to bed afterwards, because, as she had cheerfully told him, she didn't want to have to put up with any more whining tomorrow. Phoenix loves her so much it hurts, sometimes. "So?"
Edgeworth frowns. "So — could you not simply promise to attend the next one?"
"They're not all the same, you know."
"I was not implying —" Edgeworth stops, obviously flustered. “Of course they’re not. I know that, Wright. I have, after all, attended her shows.”
“Yeah,” Phoenix says, trying not to let bitterness seep into his voice and totally failing. “You did used to go to her shows.”
A chill falls over the office. And not, Phoenix thinks, because the air conditioner suddenly decided to actually start working for once in its life.
"Wright," Edgeworth says, and then stops, flush deepening.
Phoenix might be good at reading and understanding other people's emotions, but he has his limits. Especially when it comes to understanding his own, and especially when it comes to the man currently standing in front of him, with an expression wavering between defensive, embarrassed, and apologetic before settling on a strangely pitiful mixture of all three.
It’s somehow both hard to be mad at him and all the more easy to be mad at him because of how hard he is to be mad at. Phoenix sighs. "Sorry. It's been —"
"I am the one who —"
"— A really long —" Phoenix laughs awkwardly. Edgeworth doesn't. "Uh. Go ahead."
Edgeworth hesitates. "I only meant to say that it is I who should be apologizing. Not only for any unintentional implication, but for the recent — gap, in our communication. That is one of the reasons I wished to meet with you."
"Okay," Phoenix says, lowering his hand from where it had flown automatically to the back of his neck and busying himself with packing his things instead of meeting Edgeworth's eyes.
"You have questions, I assume."
Phoenix shrugs, still not looking up as he zips up his backpack and slings it over one shoulder. "I just kind of assumed you were, you know. Busy."
“I was. But that was not the only reason for my lack of responsiveness.”
“Edgeworth,” Phoenix says, mostly because he's admittedly afraid to hear the other reason, but also because he just glanced at the time on his computer monitor, and he’s so, so late. “Listen. You don’t have to explain anything to me. It’s fine. I — I get it.”
Edgeworth frowns. "...Is that so."
No, not really, but Phoenix kind of can’t afford to prolong this conversation right now. “You were dealing with some stuff. I’m guessing.”
Edgeworth makes a sound so oddly sharp that it actually takes Phoenix a second to figure out it’s a laugh. “...Yes. Well. I needed — some time to think.”
“Uh-huh.” Phoenix grabs his bike helmet off his office chair and jams it on his head. “And what did you decide?”
Edgeworth stares at him oddly. “Wright.”
“Yeah?”
“Your helmet is backwards.”
“Shit,” Phoenix mutters, and takes it off, turning it around in his hands. There’s another short noise from Edgeworth’s general vicinity, followed by a cough. Like Phoenix can’t tell Edgeworth had just been laughing if he coughs and straightens his shoulders and puts on his usual serious expression afterwards. Like Phoenix doesn't pay a little too much attention to the way Edgeworth looks when he's happy or amused or anything else not on the usual smug-irritated spectrum. "What?"
Edgeworth coughs again, not quite hiding his smile behind one hand. "Your hair is sticking up.”
“Yeah, tends to do that," Phoenix mutters, self-consciously smoothing it back into place before putting the helmet back on — the right way, this time. “Anyway. What were you saying?”
"I was…" Edgeworth trails off. Phoenix rolls his eyes, buckling the chin-strap with a passive-aggressively loud click! as he waits.
“Wright,” Edgeworth says suddenly. “Allow me to drive you to the theater.”
"With traffic? It'd probably take longer."
Edgeworth smirks. "No. It will not."
"Okay," Phoenix says, because if anyone can warp the laws of time and space to get somewhere while also never going more than fifteen over, it's Miles Edgeworth. Also because Phoenix hadn’t exactly been looking forward to biking in this heat, and there's a good chance Edgeworth's car air conditioner is way better than the office one, and also because Phoenix is weak. He might as well admit it, even if it's only to himself.
For all those reasons, it's really an offer Phoenix can't refuse. He sighs, taking off the helmet and running his fingers through his hair once again. "Yeah. Okay. Let's go."
—
They get to the theatre with five minutes to spare somehow, and both of their lives intact, though Phoenix has to wonder whether the stress of watching Edgeworth weave through LA traffic doesn't have some negative impact on his life expectancy.
Edgeworth, who somehow doesn't seem phased by having taken several corners so fast his tires had screeched (and one Phoenix swears he felt the left side of the car lift up on, before Edgeworth had punched the accelerator) pulls up to the curb, turning the engine off. Phoenix doesn't bother hiding his large sigh of relief as he unbuckles his seatbelt. "Thanks."
"Of course." Edgeworth drums his fingers on the steering wheel. "Please give Trucy my congratulations after her performance."
"Sure." Phoenix looks out at the theatre. Now that he's not focused on Edgeworth's driving, and now that he actually has a few minutes to spare, the curiosity he'd been forced to tamp down earlier is coming back, and with a vengeance. "So — you never told me. What the other thing was, that you wanted to talk about."
All the tension that had ebbed away during their conversation in the office and in the car returns in an instant, so palpable it makes Phoenix's teeth itch. Edgeworth stares down at the steering wheel, which he's grasping so hard his knuckles are starting to whiten. "That is — it is unimportant."
“Edgeworth. You called me. You came to my office." Phoenix almost makes a joke about how if Edgeworth just wanted to see him that badly he could go back to arguing cases in court, but he’s also got one eye on the clock and another on the reflection staring back at him from the car side-mirror, and just thinking about it makes said reflection look worse for the wear. Somehow, Phoenix isn’t really in the mood to tease Edgeworth about the improbability of Edgeworth ever coming to see him 'just because'. "I’m pretty sure it’s important, so — out with it.”
Edgeworth looks uncomfortable and, for some reason, also slightly offended. Those are both default Edgeworth moods though, so Phoenix doesn’t take them too personally. “If you want to find another time —”
"No," Edgeworth says, cutting him off. "I — I do not wish to wait any longer than I already have."
"Okay," Phoenix says, frowning. It's not his fault he'd been busy with a case, and if anyone understands the time constraints of their profession it's Edgeworth — so why is he being so petty about it now? "So...okay. Go ahead."
Edgeworth jerks his head down, the thin line of his mouth thinning further before he takes a deep breath and begins. "I have been uncommunicative recently. For that, I apologize.”
He already has, and Phoenix would mention that, but he doesn’t have time, so he just assumes Edgeworth knows, keeps his mouth closed, and nods along.
Edgeworth continues, like he’s rehearsed this in his head a thousand times and nothing Phoenix could say would change it.. “I was, of course, busy. However — I also needed to take some time to...think over things.”
“Things,” Phoenix echoes, slightly alarmed. It’s not like Edgeworth to be so vague. Unnecessary specificity is kind of his thing, actually. So — “Things...like?”
Edgeworth looks, for some reason, even more deeply uncomfortable. “...As in, our — friendship.”
“Right,” Phoenix says, heart sinking into his stomach. “Okay. So. Our friendship”
Edgeworth glances at his watch. “I do not feel three minutes is enough time for this conversation, but I suppose the time limit does force me to be direct.”
He kind of mutters the last bit to himself, so Phoenix doesn’t respond. Even if he wanted to, it's hard to form words through the dread curling, heavy and overpowering, in the pit of his stomach.
So this is it. The talk Phoenix has been dreading, and expecting, ever since Edgeworth started avoiding him. The "I'm Chief Prosecutor, and you're now a prominent defense lawyer, and it wouldn't be proper for us to be seen together as anything more than acquaintances, blah blah blah conflict of interest blah blah blah existing rumors blah blah blah" talk. The talk Phoenix has been thinking about, ever since he started getting defense requests from clients who were embroiled in more high-profile crimes than homicides with personal motivations, the kind of crimes that get covered on the front pages of major newspapers, not just one article in a few tabloids. He's been thinking about it basically ever since the Sprocket case, and now it's finally happening. Or will, as soon as Edgeworth stops hesitating.
Phoenix wants to tell him to spit it out so badly his throat hurts with the effort of keeping the words in. Hell, he could just say it himself, and save Edgeworth the trouble. He's thought about what Edgeworth would say enough times to come up with a reasonably good imitation of whatever statement he's about to make. Wright. While I certainly value our friendship, you must admit that your clientele has of late been quite high-profile. Because of this, it is entirely probable that we will be facing off whenever I am called to court. We both know that our reformatory efforts are at separate, but equally critical points, and that public trust in the justice system is at an all-time low. I do not wish to lower it further, or to jeopardize either of our efforts by inviting accusations of inappropriate fraternization between opposing sides. Therefore…
Phoenix's mind usually interjects at that point to make any continuation of Edgeworth's imaginary speech skid over the surface of his mind like oil on water. Right now, though, there's no defense mechanism that can kick in. This is real life, and the seconds are ticking by, and Phoenix tries, in the silence, to brace himself for the worst.
Edgeworth sighs. “Wright.”
Here we go, Phoenix thinks. “Yeah?”
“I am not good at…” Edgeworth fiddles with his watch again. “This sort of thing. However, I have realized that — the sort of relationship we had was the factor which caused me to withdraw. I did not realize why, in the beginning."
"Okay," Phoenix says, and yeah, of course this would be a hundred times worse than he'd imagined it would. Why wouldn't it be? It always is, but still — why would Edgeworth have to make a conflict of interest personal?
Because maybe it's not just the conflict of interest, a treacherous voice whispers in the back of his head. Phoenix doesn't want to listen to it; but he can't help it — he hears it anyway, and it sounds a lot like the voice that makes the imaginary Edgeworth speech.
Edgeworth takes a deep breath. "After much thought, I eventually realized that the current status quo of our — relationship is not...satisfactory."
"Satisfactory," Phoenix echoes. "You mean, when things are normal, or when you're not talking to me for months at a time?"
Edgeworth frowns. "If I am not mistaken, the lapse in our communication was for a period of no more than two weeks."
"Not the point."
Edgeworth, to his credit, looks nothing if not contrite. "Mm. Well. That was certainly a — mistake. However, as I said before, I needed...time. To come to terms with — with certain things."
The better part of Phoenix feels kind of bad, hearing Edgeworth stumble over his words like this. The petty part of him is still kind of angry, but that part is shrinking by the second, and by the time Phoenix glances over to see Edgeworth staring at his hands, which are somehow trembling even though they're in his lap, it's pretty much gone. "Sorry, I — that was uncalled for."
"Hardly," Edgeworth says, the note of dry humor fading almost as soon as it enters his voice. "Your anger is, of course, justified."
"I'm not angry," Phoenix says, and means it. "Edgeworth. I already said it's fine. I accept your apology."
Edgeworth looks up, suspicion melting to contemplativeness as he searches Phoenix's face. He looks down again just as quickly. "Thank you."
"Sure."
Edgeworth sets his jaw. Phoenix can see a vein pulsing right above that high white collar as he opens his mouth and then closes it before starting again. "Wright. You are my most valuable ally, and my closest friend."
Phoenix might be strong, but he isn't that strong; he feels his face get warm and looks away even though he knows Edgeworth isn't looking at him, even though he's heard this before. Somehow Edgeworth stating it never really gets old.
Or easier. Because those are the exact same words Phoenix reminds himself of when he's alone and without a distraction for too long and starts thinking about things he knows shouldn't think about — for the exact reasons Edgeworth had just stated. Because being Edgeworth's most valuable ally and closest friend isn't the sort of thing Phoenix takes lightly, and it's also not something he exactly wants to give up. That's also why he doesn't let himself be alone or without distractions for too long, and that's also why Phoenix nods, and doesn't quite meet Edgeworth's eyes when he glances over again.
Edgeworth coughs. "Obviously, your friendship is highly valuable to me. And if I — I do not wish to lose it. However, I could no longer deny — I could no longer continue under the conditions as they were at the time. Are. That does not mean I wish to lose your friendship, should you — as I said previously, I value it, ah — highly."
"Uh-huh," Phoenix says. It feels like he's been in this car for years, even though when he glances at the clock he can clearly see that it's only been a few minutes. Didn't Edgeworth always use to scold him in court for wasting time by repeating things? "You know it's valuable to me too, right? Your friendship."
Edgeworth looks pained at this statement, though Phoenix can't even begin to figure out why. "Yes. Well, that is...mm."
There's an another awkward silence. Phoenix uses the time to fantasize about Edgeworth telling him he's sorry, promising to never ghost him again, and then everything returning to normal after that. One phone call a week, Edgeworth coming to Trucy's shows when he's not busy rooting out the corruption and destroying bureaucratic barriers to progress, Phoenix popping into his office once every so often to annoy him — normal. Phoenix could use a little normal, right now.
None of that happens, of course. Because nothing in Phoenix's life can ever be that easy, and normal, at this point, is little more than a pipe dream. Instead Edgeworth's expression gets even more pained, and then he mutters something to himself Phoenix doesn't quite catch, shakes his head, and looks Phoenix full in the face before Phoenix can remember to look away. "Wright. I apologize for my indirectness. I will endeavor to be as clear as possible."
"Uh," Phoenix says. "Okay?"
"What I have been trying to ask, is —" Edgeworth breaks off, takes a deep breath, and then says, as slowly and as clearly as if he's reading his own death warrant: "Would you like to have a drink with me."
Phoenix stares at him. Edgeworth stares back. Out of the corner of his eye Phoenix sees the car clock change from 5:57 to 5:58. "...I — sure?"
Some of the tension drops out of Edgeworth's shoulders, though not much of it — it is Edgeworth, after all. “I see. Then — I will text you a date and time. Let me know if it does not work for you, and I will find an alternate one.”
"Great," Phoenix says, trying not to feel sad or insulted or annoyed and, of course, feeling all three at once. All that buildup, only to invite him to — what? Continue the conversation later? Or is it that Edgeworth thinks Phoenix is so petty that he’d need a whole bumbling diatribe on the value of their friendship to actually forgive Edgeworth for ignoring him for two weeks? "Yeah, just text me. As long as it’s not during a trial, I’ll probably be free.”
Because I have no life other than work and my daughter, Phoenix nearly adds. Which is why I’m so desperate to see her performance before she grows up and leaves me and takes a massive chunk of my life with her, and hey, while we’re on the topic, if you want to be a larger part of my life at some point that would be more than fine with me.
Okay, he’s nowhere near to adding that last part, but whatever. Phoenix has had one hand on the handle of the door since they pulled over, and he opens it now, barely sparing a glance at Edgeworth as he closes it. "Bye. Thanks for the ride."
"Wright," Edgeworth says, but if he says anything more Phoenix doesn't hear it. He's already gone, ignoring the raised eyebrows from the person closing the door when he shows her his ticket and making a beeline for the first empty seat he sees, sitting down in it just as the stage lights fade to black.
—