Title: Starting Over
Author: KingMobUK
Rating: No sex, some mild swearing, references to drinking alcohol and smoking. Mild peril (not really).
Genre: Drama. Episodic One Shot
Status: Completed
Pairing: Mild PW/ME
Summary: It's Christmas, and Edgeworth needs to put his life back together in the wake of the revelations about his father's death. Phoenix meanwhile is missing his friends... This takes place *immediately* after the events in 1:4 (Turnabout Goodbyes) and was put together from various bits of the original notes for the fic I wrote the other day which ended up going in a different direction.
Spoilers:General spoilers for 1:1, 1:2 and 1:3 on PW:AA and HUGE (Danger Will Robinson!) spoilers for 1:4. Slight foreshadowing of general themes and minor details in 1:5. ETA: Nothing for GS 2,3 or 4.

"If you would like to submit any of your work to Court Records, please make a note in your post." If any of my work is ever good enough to be submitted to Court Records go ahead (but I doubt it)!

I'll post in chunks it'll be easier to read.

See next post for first chunk:

ETA: Feedback specifically invited please - I'm still working on character voice in particular.

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Last edited by KingMobUK on Fri Aug 31, 2007 7:52 pm, edited 4 times in total.

Part One:

Miles Edgeworth hesitated, the metal handle of the detention centre door cold under his fingers. He rested his forehead on the wood to gather some strength, not knowing quite what to expect outside. When he’d been escorted from court and brought back here yesterday there had been a media frenzy. As Head Prosecutor, he was used to press attention of course, even if he didn’t usually invite it, but it was entirely different facing the flashing bulbs and intruding microphones as a defendant.

Having his personal life splashed over the tabloids for all the world to see for the past few days had been harder for Miles to cope with than he would ever admit. He was a private man, and while he’d forced himself to maintain a calm demeanour throughout his public appearances during the trial, inwardly he had been struggling constantly with the shame and pain of reliving his father’s death and his own grief over and over again in the glare of the public eye.

There had been that one, brief, exquisite moment when he realised that he had played no part in Gregory Edgeworth’s murder, and he had wanted to fall down and cry with relief on the spot. But before he could even savour that feeling, immediately on its heels had come the coup de grace, the revelation that the man who had taken him in as a child - mentored him, and put him on the path to being the feared prosecutor that he had become - was not only the murderer of his father, but had done it all as part of an elaborately-plotted revenge tragedy designed to ruin the Edgeworth name forever.

Miles had hardly even had the time to fully comprehend this complete and utter betrayal before the verdict was in and he was out in front of the cameras. He had his freedom, but he’d lost everything in the process, and he could feel a vacuum forming in his heart that threatened to suck all his remaining strength away. He’d managed to put on a smile long enough to acknowledge the support and celebrations of his friends and colleagues with apparent good grace, but all the time he’d been aware that it was a sham, and that if anyone looked too closely they’d realise that he was barely holding it together.

He knew that Wright and Gumshoe had done their best to shield him from the cameras and the screamed questions in the entrance hall. He suspected that Wright had even been aware that he was not fully in his own mind as he had a memory of a certain look and a gentle pressure on his shoulder as they’d parted. Or perhaps that was just a dream.

Even the security guard in charge of him had shown unusual sensitivity in deliberately and repeatedly blocking Miles from the glare of the cameras until he was safe inside the transport vehicle for the trip back to the detention centre. But he’d felt desperately vulnerable, in a way that he never had before outside of his nightmares.

He had no recollection of the journey save for gazing at his own tightly clenched hands throughout the drive and a repeat of the scenes outside the courtroom as they arrived outside the detention centre. Stepping back into his empty, solitary cell had felt like a blessing, and finally the tears that he had been fighting against all day had burst out in a gasping, desperate overflow of emotion.

The long night had been spent absorbing and brooding over the enormity of Von Karma’s deception and his own unwitting complicity in it. He had felt many regrets, much pain, more hatred than he thought he could feel for one person and a slowly growing contempt for his own failure to see the truth. Of it all, his own blindness was the hardest thing for him to accept. He had barely slept, but then he could not really remember the last time that he had ever managed to sleep beyond an hour or so at a time.

He’d been grateful when the guard came to his cell with coffee at 5.00am. and even more so when the man told him that he was to be released six hours early because the Chief Security Officer wanted to avoid a repeat of yesterday’s scenes. Edgeworth yearned to just slip away quietly and hide himself from the world. His exhaustion was such that he didn’t trust his ability to keep his emotions under control, and he had no intention of providing any further entertainment for the gossipmongers and the paparazzi. As he showered, shaved and changed he avoided his own eyes in the mirror and instead tried to keep a vision in his mind of himself in court - poised, calm, and in control.

The clock behind him chimed the half hour. 6.30am.With a deep breath, Edgeworth braced himself, gritted his teeth, summoned his carefully studied demeanour of haughty superiority … and pushed open the door.

-----------------------------

Phoenix Wright wandered slowly out of the train station with his hands rammed deep into the pockets of his blue suit trousers. Although he’d taken the time for a quick spruce-up, shave and tooth-brushing before leaving the office to look for Maya, his suit was still rumpled from sleeping on the couch and his hair flopped limply as if it mirrored his mood. He felt grubby, sad, and suddenly very alone.

He’d put on a happy face as he waved Maya off on the train back to Kurain but it had been an effort. I hope she still doesn’t think she’s useless. I’m really going to miss having her around. The attorney hovered undecidedly between the taxi rank and the bus stop, but could think of nowhere that he had a burning desire to go to so early in the morning. He knew his apartment would seem deserted without Maya around, and his memories of Mia’s murder were still too vivid for him to spend long in the office on his own. That meant his options were limited. I don’t think I could deal with Larry right now. Especially if we both have hangovers.

Last night’s excesses began creeping up on him as he stood there in the morning sunshine. Considering that it was late December, the sun was unaccountably bright and warm despite the chill in the air. His eyes were protesting the brightness and his head was starting to ache mildly but persistently. He’d barely slept for a week and they’d celebrated Edgeworth’s acquittal till late into the night, even though the man himself was still in detention pending processing and not due for release until noon today.

Burgers at their regular haunt had been followed by Gumshoe opening a tab at a local cocktail bar where he, Lotta, Larry and Phoenix had proceeded to work their way through the entire menu. Crazy. He didn’t remember Maya joining in the assault on the cocktail list, but he did remember her laughing at him as they made their way back to the office afterwards and he’d relied on an arm across her shoulders to steer straight. Phoenix sighed.

He was still considering what to do next when his mobile phone started merrily tweeting out the Steel Samurai theme tune. He pulled a face at both the music and the volume, which made his teeth jangle. A parting gift from Maya no doubt. How much did I have to drink last night anyway? Maybe I should check for tattoos.

“Hello, is that Mr Wright?”
“Speaking”
“This is the Detention Centre. Your client is being released early as we would prefer to avoid any repeat of yesterday’s media circus.”
“Oh … uh …”
“He’s being processed right now. You’ll need to come in some time later in the week to approve the paperwork”.
“Uh …Thanks.”

Phoenix glanced at his watch. 6.20 a.m. Ah, what the hell. He raised his arm. “Taxi!”

--------------------------

Miles Edgeworth was shocked to find that the street outside the detention centre was deserted. He could see no press, no cameras, and no crowd. You’re yesterday’s news now, Prosecutor Edgeworth. The sudden anti-climax almost made him laugh out loud at his own, overblown self-importance and for a second a brief glimmer of a smile passed over his face and warmed his heart.

For a moment he stood in the warmth of the morning sun with his eyes closed, and then turned his face upwards to better feel the gentle heat of the day. He’d wondered, last night, if he’d feel different today – if the world would feel different.

For almost fifteen years he had woken in the morning and gone to sleep at night with the conviction that he had killed his own father at the forefront of his mind. But this morning, when he awoke, he no longer believed that to be true. Phoenix Wright had proved to him, to the judge and to the watching world that it could not be true.

When he opened his eyes again he tried to look at the scene in a new light, but he could see nothing different from yesterday except for the absence of the crowd. No rainbow, no birds singing in the trees, and no ruddy-faced children skipping down the street singing Christmas carols. His lip curled upwards slightly with contempt for himself and his own sentimentality. Von Karma said I was a romantic fool… and he was right.

Almost as if to reinforce the fact that today was going to be the same old same old, there were no cabs to be seen moving either up or down the street, and Miles became aware of two police detectives lounging in the mouth of an alley diagonally across the road, no doubt having a cigarette break. They had noticed him and he knew by the closed looks that had come across their faces and their whispered words as they turned away that nothing, nothing had changed. I wish I had a pack of cigarettes. He’d kicked the habit back when he graduated law school, but still sometimes yearned for the soft caress of cigarette smoke at the back of his throat.

--------------------------------

As the taxi moved quickly through the relatively empty streets, Phoenix Wright gazed out at the townscape flashing past.

Only a few months ago the city had looked fresh, bright and sparkling with new hope to him. He’d been a freshly-fledged defence attorney just waiting for the senior partner of his firm, Mia Fey, to deem him fit to take on a case of his own. He had been mere weeks from fulfilling a fantasy he’d cherished for several years when she’d been murdered, and he’d been plunged into a more nightmarish realisation of his dream than he ever expected.

Since that horrible day, successive events had piled up to tarnish his view of the city and of his life. He felt as if he’d been changed irrevocably by Mia’s death, Maya’s trial, his own incarceration and the harrowing revelations that had come from his most recent case and where Edgeworth had been on trial for his life.

Edgeworth. I spent fifteen years trying to get back in touch with him and even decided to change my major to law because of him. If he wouldn’t respond to my letters, then I would make him face me in court. But I never expected to be defending his life.

It occurred to Phoenix that it might have been helpful if he had ever stopped and thought through exactly what he planned to do after he’d achieved his hard-won desire to meet Miles Edgeworth in court. Did I honestly think he’d greet me like a long lost friend and we’d immediately go back to how we were at nine years old?

Today, everything looked grey and worn. The city seemed as shabby as he felt, sitting in the cab in his crumpled suit and sporting sofa hair. Phoenix sighed and looked at his watch. Why am I even doing this? What exactly do I think it will achieve?

------------------------------

Miles Edgeworth shrugged and decided to walk back towards the District Court in the hope that he’d find a cab before too long. So soon after Christmas, he expected that a lot of cab drivers would be on holiday, and those that were not would be fully booked by revellers or bargain hunters. But he stood more chance of finding one if he was closer to the centre of the city. Maybe a walk will do me good. Maybe I’ll find a bar somewhere and drown my sorrows in a festive bottle of fine single malt. Or even two.

He was just preparing to cross the road when it seemed that he wouldn’t have to bother, as a cab pulled up to the kerb right in front of him. Well at least something is in my favour this morning. As he leaned in to open the door he was confronted by a familiar, grinning face and a pair of smiling blue eyes.

“Morning Edgeworth! Need a ride?”

----------------------------------

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Part Two

The sheer look of disbelief on Edgeworth’s face made Phoenix Wright grin even wider.

“Wright! What are you doing here?” Edgeworth’s eyes had narrowed and his lips had thinned into a look of suspicion. Phoenix could see that the events of the last week had taken their toll. The prosecutor’s face was drawn and his eyes were red from spent tears and ringed with exhaustion.

“I’m your attorney, Edgeworth, They called me to let me know you were being released early. I thought I should make the effort to get up early myself and come and pick you up.”

Edgeworth’s cold, steely eyes met his own for the briefest of moments and Phoenix suddenly felt as if he were being x-rayed. It was both thrilling and frightening to be on the end of that piercing gaze, just as it was in court. Damn, he’s on to me!

“Liar” the prosecutor accused. “That’s the same suit that you were wearing yesterday, and you clearly haven’t slept … Did you actually come straight here from a bar?” Edgeworth looked and sounded mildly outraged.

“No, I mean, yes, that is … yes okay, you’re right, I haven’t actually been home yet but no, I didn’t come from a bar. I came straight from the train station. I was there when I got the call.”

“The train station?” Edgeworth folded his arms and looked away, with an unmistakeable air of disbelief.

Phoenix Wright sighed. “I’ll tell you later Edgeworth, Just get in the damn cab, will you? The meter’s running and you look like hell.”

---------------------------

As the cab pulled away Miles Edgeworth felt a rising tide of irritation that he couldn’t completely keep control of. “Really Wright, this isn’t necessary - I can manage to call a cab and get myself home you know,”

If the defence attorney had heard his protest there was no sign. He continued to look out of the window at the passing buildings without even a twitch of acknowledgement.

“I have things to do today. I don’t have the time for unsolicited socialising”.

Still no response. Miles’ irritation level was threatening to peak when the other man finally looked round. For the briefest moment the prosecutor thought he could detect a faint sadness that lurked behind the blue eyes “I have things to do today, too.” Wright sounded tired, but surprisingly firm “We need to talk”.

The prosecutor met this information with a frown, but could think of no appropriate response without risking continuing the conversation, and that was something that did not interest him at all. Instead, he sighed, crossed his arms, and settled back in the cab with an expression on his face that he hoped indicated his wish not to be here at all. “Very well”.

-----------------------------------

Despite himself, Phoenix Wright was eager to see where Edgeworth lived. The cab pulled up outside a high-rise apartment complex in a nice part of town. Not as swanky as I expected, but convenient for the Prosecutor’s Office and complete with a fancy doorman.

Phoenix leaned forward and paid their dues to the cab driver, along with a tip he could ill-afford. Still - anyone that had been forced to look at Edgeworth’s sour face in the rear view mirror for half an hour during the festive season deserved a hefty tip, the attorney reasoned. He hopped out of the cab and made a play at brushing the creases out of his suit, although with minimum effect.

The prosecutor, meanwhile, was waiting for him in the impressively marbled lobby. He had a handful of mail in one hand and his door key in the other. “I’m going up to my apartment for a few minutes. Wait here.” Before Phoenix could protest he stalked away to the elevators and disappeared from view.

Don’t invite me up, will you? Merry Christmas to you too, you jerk. Phoenix sulked, and stood with his hands in his pockets kicking gently at one of the marble columns with the toe of his shoe. Why am I here again?

He looked around the lobby and realised he was being watched by the doorman, who was probably echoing Phoenix’s last thought. The attorney was suddenly keenly aware of his cheap and crumpled suit, his tousled hair and his drugstore brand cologne. He didn’t fit in here, and the doorman evidently intended to drive that point home.

He scratched the back of his head in embarrassment and rubbed the toe of his left shoe on his right trouser leg in an unconscious gesture reminiscent of a schoolboy caught in the act.

Phoenix was considering making a bolt for the door when Edgeworth suddenly materialised next to him again. He was no longer wearing his suit, but had changed into jeans, a dark grey sweater and a long, black winter overcoat. Phoenix did a slight double-take. He’d never encountered the man outside of the legal system or the newspapers so “casual Edgeworth” was a whole new experience for him.

Minus the flamboyant trappings but still scarred by a week of insomnia and acute emotional distress, Edgeworth seemed less impressive, more worn, and somehow … smaller. Physically, Edgeworth was slightly taller and correspondingly broader across the shoulders than himself, but it was almost as if the past week had diminished him. Phoenix felt his heart lurch and tighten in sympathy for his old friend.

“Don’t look at me like that, Wright. I’m not an invalid, or a charity case, and some people do own a whole wardrobe full of clothes, you know”. Edgeworth turned on his heel with a swish of expensive wool and marched out of the building leaving Phoenix to stumble awkwardly after him.

Outside, a car was waiting, and an attendant hovered with the keys. Phoenix eyed the vehicle with a mixture of amusement and admiration. “Is this yours, Edgeworth?”
“Yes, what of it?”

It was a sleek, imported German saloon car that gleamed a perfect black and sported darkly tinted windows. Nice.

Phoenix hesitated, then smiled “Do you remember in school, when me, you and Larry sat around dreaming of the cars we would buy one day? I wanted a jeep, you wanted a red sports car and, uh, I think Larry wanted a Gurkha tank.”

Edgeworth looked at him blankly, then a fleeting memory clearly crossed his mind before his expression soured to one of disapproval. “What of it, Wright? We were only children. This is more practical”.

Phoenix shrugged as if it meant nothing to him, but he smirked quietly to himself as he slipped into the leather covered passenger seat. “I’m sure it is, Edgeworth.”

-------------------------

As Miles Edgeworth started the car he wondered to himself why on earth he hadn’t told Wright to go home, or even just left him there in the lobby until he got tired of waiting. He had no idea why he had allowed the defence attorney to invite himself along on what he’d intended to be a private errand.

A sideways glance at his companion didn’t help much, as all he saw was Phoenix playing with the electric passenger window control, a look of happy wonder on his face. Miles pursed his lips. “Do stop that Wright. You’re behaving like Butz”.

As the car pulled away Miles considered the situation from Wright’s point of view, and realised that he had no idea why the defence attorney would want to be here either. I’m hardly sparkling company today considering that only yesterday he saved my life. Uncharacteristically the prosecutor felt a pang of awkwardness but then he recalled yesterday’s conversation in the Defendant’s Lobby. I hope he’s not waiting for me to say thank you again.

As they drove, Miles sensed that Phoenix had slipped back into his own thoughts and he breathed an inward sigh of relief that he wouldn’t have to make small talk about their childhood for the next twenty minutes.

Still … Wright’s comment about his car stuck in his mind and then he thought about what Maya had said to him yesterday. About having fun and letting go. He brooded on it for a while before frowning at his own silly notions, but by then the idea had taken hold. Miles sighed. Maybe tomorrow he would call his car dealer.

----------------------

Phoenix Wright was disturbed from his reverie as they turned off the main road and took a sharp bend angling towards a large, iron gate. The car came to a halt smoothly, silently and with an air of smugness. That’s German engineering for you.

“Where are we?” he asked, looking round at the prosecutor who in turn was gazing out of the driver’s side window at the gate and the bare-branched trees and bushes that shielded it. Phoenix couldn’t see any signage or gain any clues of what was beyond the gate from this angle and he couldn’t imagine what errand could be so important to Edgeworth that he had been compelled to undertake it today of all days, when any sane person would have been getting drunk or sleeping off the horrors of the past week.

Edgeworth was silent. From this angle only the back of his head was in view so Phoenix couldn’t tell if he was choosing to ignore the question or was simply lost in his own thoughts. Then, abruptly, the prosecutor opened his door “I have something to do. It’s been fifteen years. I’ve come to say goodbye”. He was out of the car before Phoenix had a chance to digest that information.

The defence attorney scrambled out of the passenger side door and hurried after Edgeworth, who was striding purposefully towards the gate. As they got closer Phoenix almost stumbled in surprise as he read the legend printed in small letters across the gate. MEMORIAL CEMETERY. He stopped, somewhat shocked, and watched Edgeworth continue on ahead.

--------------------

At the end of one of the smaller paths off the main section of the cemetery, Miles Edgeworth stopped in front of an unassuming, plain, granite gravestone. It was inscribed with the name of his father in block capitals and then in smaller letters had been added “Loving Father of Miles”.

He considered that. His father had been loving. He remembered that very well. Those first nine years of his life, even after the death of his mother, had been warm, comfortable and happy. He’d idolised his father, and his father, in return, had cherished his only son. Miles had been a shy child and his father more comfortable with his case files than with people. They had been everything to one another, even after Miles had accidentally befriended Phoenix Wright and Larry Butz.

Then, both their lives had ended. Or so it felt at the time.

After the murder, he had tried to lock the memories of his childhood away. It was easier that way, he had found. At first, in Germany, when his life in the Von Karma house became too painful for him to bear, small slivers of memory would escape from their confinement and drift unbidden into his head. Over time, he had recognised these for what they were – signs of his own weakness – and he’d banished them to the furthest recesses of his mind, just as he had banished the letters that Wright had kept sending to a box under his bed, all but a handful unopened.

It felt difficult now to reverse that process, but Miles knew that after yesterday’s revelations he had to try, and that he had to start here.

He would never know if his father had really come back from beyond the grave to speak through Misty Fey, or if his father had told the truth when he did. He would never know if Gregory Edgeworth genuinely believed that he had been killed by Yanni Yogi, or if he died thinking that he had been shot by his own son. It was a thought that Miles had gone over many times before but it still cut him to the heart whenever he gave it a voice.

But, now that he was sure of his own innocence in the crime, Miles knew that he needed to say goodbye to the dying, screaming spectre of his father that he had created in his own head and then used to drive himself forward for all these years, vindicating his ruthlessness and ambition along the way. Now it was time once more to remember who his father really was and what he stood for.

He knew too, that once he let those memories back in there would be no turning back for him, and that he did not know where they might lead. But he owed it to his father and to those ideals he had himself professed all those years ago to face up to who he had become, even if doing so might cost him dearly.

--------------------------------

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Part 3

Phoenix Wright waited awkwardly by the side of Gregory Edgeworth’s grave and struggled with the acute knowledge that he was intruding uninvited on his long-estranged friend’s private grief.

If he’d known Edgeworth’s purpose and destination he would have made an excuse to avoid tagging along. He shifted uneasily from foot to foot and shivered slightly as the sharp, biting December wind whipped through the cemetery. The morning’s bright sun had faded away and left a grey chill in its wake.

Edgeworth, meanwhile, was still standing before his father’s memorial stone, lost in thought, hands in his pockets. The sharp breeze flapped the hem of his black, wool coat and blew his grey hair forwards, preventing Phoenix from reading his expression at all.

“You’ve … never been here before?” Phoenix guessed.

Edgeworth shook his head without looking up. “Not since the funeral. At first it was because I went to live in Germany. Then the dreams started and …. If I killed him … if it were my fault. I just couldn’t.” He made a dismissive gesture but his voice was slightly shaky. He recovered himself and cleared his throat. “I thought it best not to rake over the past”.

Phoenix wasn’t sure if it was the situation, his own exhaustion or merely a sudden cold gust, but he felt his eyes burn and he had to look away. He had an irrational and powerful compulsion to physically reach out to his friend, just as he would have done when they were kids. Fortunately though, his head prevailed over his heart. He knew that here and now, all these years later, it would be completely inappropriate, so instead he rammed his hands into his jacket pockets in a mirror of Edgeworth’s pose and stepped back out of the prosecutor’s eye-line in an attempt to both be less obtrusive and to get out of the wind.

The two of them stood there unmoving for some time longer, neither wishing to break the silence again.

---------------------

Eventually Miles Edgeworth raised his head and took in a deep breath of the December air “Time to go, Wright”.

He turned his head slightly to catch the eye of the defence attorney, only to find to his surprise that he was no longer standing there. He hadn’t noticed Wright’s retreat and had to turn on his heel to spot the man, who was standing somewhat sheepishly out of the wind beside a large, carved tombstone. Wright was shivering, and his cheap suit was no match for the cold December weather. Miles felt slightly guilty, but then recalled that he hadn’t issued invitations for this trip.

They returned to the car in silence. It seemed to Miles that Wright had as much on his mind as he did himself. He wondered what had happened at the train station this morning but could not bring himself to pry into someone else’s affairs so openly.

“I presume you would like a lift back to town, as I doubt that you’ll find a cab out here.”

Wright appeared to be considering the question carefully, but then he looked up suddenly. His blue eyes met Edgeworth’s with a sudden flash of resolve.

“I don’t want to go back to town right away. We need to go somewhere else first.”

What? Miles didn’t know quite how to respond to that so he decided that sarcasm was probably the best option until he could figure out what the man was up to. This is just like being in court.

“I’m not your personal chauffeur, Wright.”

“Then consider this a favour for the guy who got you acquitted. Look Edgeworth, just trust me, okay? Just this once.”

Miles was about to cut him off with a biting remark when something about Wright’s almost childlike earnestness made him change his mind. “Very well. I hope this won’t take too long”.

----------------------------

As they got closer to their destination Phoenix Wright could tell that Edgeworth knew where they were going. He’d given directions from the freeway but once they turned onto the street by the school he hadn’t needed to say a word.

They drove slowly down a tree-lined road. The weather was starting to take a turn for the worse and Phoenix was sure that snow was hiding away in the leaden sky, waiting for its chance to escape. It suited the current mood in the car. Edgeworth’s face had become ever more guarded since he’d recognised the neighbourhood and Phoenix almost felt like kicking himself for his oh-so-bright ideas.

“I presume this is where you wanted to bring me”. Edgeworth’s voice was quiet and without expression. The car rolled to a halt outside an older-style wooden-framed house with a full-length porch and a neatly trimmed lawn. A stone-flagged path led up to the front door and coloured lights twinkled in one of the windows. No-one seemed to be home. They’re probably away visiting friends for Christmas like normal people.

Phoenix remembered this house well. He remembered the smell of freshly cut grass, and of hot coffee wafting from the open windows. He remembered calling here every morning on the way to school for the best part of a year.

Edgeworth would always be waiting outside, sitting awkwardly on the porch with his book bag on his knees, and they would walk the rest of the way to school together, meeting Larry outside the gates. Phoenix had cherished those walks and the conversations they had shared, although he hadn’t been aware until afterwards quite how much they had meant to him.

Close on the heels of those memories came a sadder one. That morning on the first day back after the Christmas Holidays when he had found no-one waiting, the place deserted, and no indication of where his friend had gone.

The teachers had told the class that Edgeworth’s father had died and the boy had transferred to another school. Even so, for weeks he’d continued to call on the way to school in hope of finding Edgeworth back in his waiting place. Phoenix’s heart would be full of hope as the house came into view, and then sink sadly each time he saw the porch empty. Eventually he’d given up. But he’d never forgotten.

Phoenix watched Edgeworth for any sign of remembrance, but the prosecutor’s face, like his voice, was expressionless.

“Do you still own the house, Edgeworth”?

The prosecutor shook his head. “No. I asked Von Karma to dispose of it for me when I was at law school. I believe some of the contents are still in storage somewhere with the rest of my father’s belongings and papers, but I’ve never checked.”

They sat there in silence for a while, each lost in their own private thoughts. Phoenix stole another glance at his companion but could ascertain nothing from his expression, which remained steadfastly impassive.

Edgeworth had obviously noticed the sidelong look. “Why did you bring me here, Wright?”

“Why didn’t you respond to any of my letters?” it sounded sharper than Phoenix had intended it to.

The question, the tone, or both, clearly caught Edgeworth off-guard, as he gave Phoenix a startled look and blushed deeply. “I – couldn’t. My life here was over, and I had to move on.”

Phoenix started to press the point but again he noticed the signs of stress and tiredness on the prosecutor’s face and realised that Edgeworth really did look deeply uncomfortable about this subject. He decided to drop it. I just don’t have the heart to push him right now.

----------------------------

After a few minutes more of silence, Miles Edgeworth cleared his throat. “So - have we finished our sight-seeing trip now?” Without waiting for a response he put his hand to the ignition.

He was checking the rear view mirror and just about to turn the key when Wright’s hand closed over his own, gently but firmly. “Wait”. The shock of the uninvited physical contact, brief as it was, made Miles recoil, and he pulled his hand away from the key as if it were white hot.

Wright didn’t seem to have noticed Miles’ reaction and indeed, didn’t even seem to be aware of having touched him at all. He was still staring at the porch, although now there was a sudden intensity of thought in his expression. It reminded Miles of the look on the defence attorney’s face when he was trying to find a contradiction in court. The prosecutor was almost beginning to fear what was going to come next. He suddenly felt bone-tired – too tired to deal with any more of Wright’s unpredictable behaviour. Why did I come back here at all? Why didn’t I just stay in Germany?

“Why did you bring me here, Wright?” he asked again, more firmly this time.

Suddenly he was aware that Wright’s eyes were back on him, and his feelings
of discomfort returned. He resented being under scrutiny outside of court, and especially in the relative safety of his own car.

“Edgeworth, when you said goodbye and walked up your path on that last day of school, we parted as friends. So … I thought … this would be as good a place as any to try and pick that friendship up again”. Wright looked down at his hands as he said it, and he seemed suddenly embarrassed at his own sentimentality.

Miles was taken aback. “I don’t …” I don’t need friends. That was what he had been about to say. Friends make me weak.

But suddenly, he was no longer sure if that was true. Or if those thoughts had ever been his in the first place. Was he still being controlled, even now? He realised that he was beginning to find it difficult to judge where Manfred Von Karma ended and Miles Edgeworth began, and today that thought was one that chilled him to the bone.

He picked his words carefully and looked out of the window, away from his companion. “I don’t think I would make much of a friend any more, Wright. As you observed yourself the other day in the Detention Centre - I’ve changed too much”.

“We’ve both changed, Edgeworth. I know you said I hadn’t, but it’s not true. Not really. I’m not a complete idiot, I know we’re not nine years old any more, but …” Wright’s voice tailed off with a sigh and Miles could see that he was unable to articulate the rest of his thoughts.

Had they been in court, the prosecutor would have used the look of momentary confusion that crossed Wright’s face as an opportune moment to question his intelligence, sanity, or general grasp on reality. A brief smile tugged at Miles’ lips as he recalled some of their quick-fire verbal exchanges across the witness box in the past couple of months.

Can I be friends with this man? He remembered the defence attorney’s dogged insistence on representing him despite his best efforts to push him away. He remembered Wright’s unfailing belief in his innocence even when he himself was convinced of his own guilt. Maybe. But what if I’m not who he thinks I am?

---------------------------------

Not for the first time that day Phoenix Wright could have kicked himself. What a stupid thing to say. What a stupid thing to do, bringing Edgeworth out here today of all days.

He didn’t expect Edgeworth to answer him. His half-baked, childish nonsense wasn’t worthy of an answer, and he was ashamed of himself for the whole escapade, blaming his own tiredness and Maya’s leaving for making his permanent, underlying feeling of loneliness feel more pressing and acute than usual. If he was lucky, the prosecutor would make a sarcastic joke out of it and they could be on their way. If not, it was a long walk home.

He was aware of Edgeworth’s steel grey eyes regarding him with the same piercing look that he had experienced earlier. It was like being looked through as much as at. This time though, there was no thrill of excitement. It merely felt intimidating.

Suddenly the prosecutor shifted slightly sideways in the drivers seat and with a half-smile he held out a hand, the unmistakeable look of a man who has made a decision on his face. Phoenix looked at him half in astonishment and half in wariness.

“Good afternoon. I’m Miles Edgeworth. I think we may have been at school together - how have you been keeping”?

The defence attorney laughed as they shook hands. “Wright. Phoenix Wright. Yes, I seem to remember you – weren’t you friends with that fool Butz”?

---------------------------------

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Part 4

The two men were silent again on the journey to Wright’s apartment building. But this time it was a more companionable silence, and Miles Edgeworth felt more relaxed than he had in a long time.

They pulled up at the kerb and Wright started to get out of the car. “Thanks for the ride – I guess I’ll see you in court”.

Miles acknowledged the thanks with a dismissive wave and waited for the door to close. But suddenly the defence attorney leaned back in. “Edgeworth … come in for a drink.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Wright.”

“It’s the Christmas holidays, Edgeworth. This is what normal people do at Christmas – they invite each other in for drinks. And besides, you didn’t get to come out with us last night to toast your acquittal”

“Well as you probably know better than anyone by now, I’m hardly what the dictionary would define as “normal”. And may I ask if you’re planning to keep using the “I got you acquitted” card for very much longer, Wright, because I must say I’m tiring of it somewhat”. Miles attempted a frown but was aware he didn’t quite pull it off.

Wright seized the chance and leaned in slightly once more. “Please.” The undisguised hope in those blue eyes was too much for Miles to resist, especially given the tiredness he was starting to feel creeping back over him.

The prosecutor sighed and turned off the engine. “I hope you have something decent to drink, Wright.”

------------------------

Phoenix Wright knew before they stepped into the apartment that his alcohol selection was unlikely to meet with Edgeworth’s approval, and he also knew that his cleaning lady hadn’t been round since before Christmas, but neither of these two facts were enough to diminish his happiness that the prosecutor had agreed to share a drink with him.

It was a completely irrational joy. It’s only a drink, pull yourself together. But it felt as if he’d succeeded in conquering Everest.

While Edgeworth removed his coat, Phoenix quickly scanned the apartment. To his surprise, apart from some dust and a couple of empty cups, the place didn’t look too bad. Then he recalled that apart from sleeping, he and Maya had spent very little time here during Edgeworth’s trial. He felt more relaxed, even though he could see Edgeworth giving the place a full appraisal from his position near the door.

He went to the kitchen to fetch some glasses and when he returned he noticed that Edgeworth was holding out an envelope. It was handwritten with his name – he must have missed it when he walked in. Ripping it open he pulled out a couple of photographs and a short note signed “Lotta”. It was the photos of the group of them in the Defendant’s Lobby after Edgeworth’s acquittal the previous evening. Gumshoe was grinning, Maya was holding up a victory sign, and even Edgeworth was smiling, though not with his eyes. She must have developed them today and dropped them off at his apartment before she left town.

He showed them to Edgeworth and then put them down on the coffee table. “So what do you want to drink?”

“What do you have?”

“Well, I have some beer, uh … and some Scotch …”

“Scotch sounds good.”

Phoenix crossed the room to the cupboard where he stashed the hard stuff. He opened the door and his heart sank.

“Um, Edgeworth. I seem to be out of Scotch”, He felt like a proper idiot. “I’m sorry, I think Larry might have finished it the last time he was here. He always finds it wherever I move it to. I can run to the liquor store though, it’s only down the block“.

Edgeworth took the empty bottle from him and looked at the label with great distaste. “It’s probably just as well. I wouldn’t use this stuff to clean the drains”. With a sigh the prosecutor walked back towards the door and took his coat from the hook “I’ll go. I don’t trust you to choose anything remotely decent.”

Phoenix still felt embarrassed and he knew that he was blushing like a child. “I’m really sorry ….”

Edgeworth dismissed his apologies with a gesture. “Keys”?

“Oh right …” Phoenix pulled them from his pocket and tossed them to the prosecutor. “The liquor store is just down the block on the left”.

He noticed that Edgeworth’s eye had been caught by his keys. He could guess why and he felt silly again. As the prosecutor’s eyes met his he saw that his eyebrow was quirked in a question. “Have you kept this photograph all that time?” Phoenix blushed again. “I thought it was a good one of the three of us.”

He’d completely forgotten the photo keyring containing a picture of himself, Larry and Edgeworth that had been taken in a booth at a local mall that summer in 2001. Three of the four photographs in the strip had come out (the fourth had been useless as Larry had toppled them over from his precarious position kneeling on the stool) and they’d each taken one home. He didn’t suppose that either of the other two had kept theirs but his had remained a treasured possession ever since.

To his surprise Edgeworth didn’t comment further, and when he looked up, the prosecutor had already left the apartment.

------------------------

Miles Edgeworth let himself back into the apartment and put the keys and the bottle down on the table by the door as he removed his coat. Glenlivet. Hardly the best, but good enough, and certainly better than I expected for a corner liquor store in this neighbourhood.

“It’s beginning to snow out there, Wright” he said, as he brushed some stray flakes from his grey hair. There was no response, and he assumed the defence attorney was in the kitchen.

But as he stepped forward into the living room he spotted Wright, half sitting, half slumping on the sofa in his crumpled trousers and shirtsleeves. It was quite clear to Edgeworth even from this distance that despite the apparent discomfort of the position, the man had fallen asleep.

Irritation and amusement chased each other across Edgeworth’s face for a few moments, and then he gave a rueful smile. He didn’t suppose that Wright had slept much more than he had himself over the last few days. And he had noticed, although refrained from commenting on, the absence of Maya. He’d also observed the general lack of Christmas cards or festive touches about the place. Not that I have room to comment I suppose. But somehow he’d expected Wright’s place to be more of a contrast to his own in that respect.

He felt a growing curiosity about Wright’s present circumstances. It was the first time he remembered having any interest in someone outside of work for a very long while and it took him slightly by surprise.

Quietly, Edgeworth placed the unopened bottle of Glenlivet on the coffee table next to the photographs.

Then, very gently, he supported Wright’s head and shoulders while manoeuvring him into a more comfortable position on the sofa, arranging his head on a cushion and lifting his feet up so that he was fully horizontal. Wright gave no sign of waking.

There was a folded blanket on the chair next to the couch so Edgeworth shook it out and placed it over the sleeping man. Then he sighed, and sat down in the chair he’d just cleared.

He picked up one of Lotta’s photos and regarded it for a moment, before reaching for one of the number of stray ballpoint pens that were scattered across the coffee table.

In a neat, tidy hand he wrote “Merry Christmas” on the back of the photograph. Then he flipped the picture over, and looked thoughtfully at the image. Maya caught his eye and suddenly he turned to the back of the photo again and added “Thank You”. Then he signed his name, propped the photo against the bottle and stood up.

Miles regarded Wright’s sleeping form once more, and felt envious of his expression of utter peace and contentment. Have I ever looked like that when I sleep? Gently and somewhat hesitantly, he reached out with the softest touch of his fingertips and brushed a lock of tousled hair out of the defence attorney’s face, blushing slightly at his own forwardness.

“Sleep well”. Grabbing his coat, Miles Edgeworth slipped quietly out of the apartment, clicking the door softly closed behind him.

----------------ends

"But you know where you came from, you know where
You're going and you know where you belong
You said I was ill, and you were not wrong
But I can't believe you'd ever care
And this is why you will never care
These things take time
I know that I'm
The most inept
That ever stepped" THE SMITHS

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Last edited by KingMobUK on Sat Sep 15, 2007 10:42 am, edited 2 times in total.

....AWWWWW.

I keep getting impressed with your work. I love how it was only some vaguely implied P/E and it focused mostly on their friendship. It was good to see it not rush right into romance RIGHT after the trial.

Your characterization can be summed up with one example:
"uh, I think Larry wanted a Gurkha tank.” That was so perfect.
You really do a great job keeping the characters real and believable. It's like you know exactly what they would say outside of the game. I also loved the small details - the bit with the car was clever. Your own little twists, like the photograph of the three of them, were also very enjoyable.

Excellent job. I'm glad I decided to read this.

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Thanks very much - glad you liked it I think Phoenix and Miles friendship is the basis of everything else that they may (or may not!) get up to either in court ... or not ... so I wanted to explore that a bit.

Edgeworth's car in 1:5 felt a bit ... odd, so I decided to figure out why he might have bought it, heh!

As for the Gurkha tank ... if I'm honest that's a bit of fandom crossover. Larry kind of reminds me of a character from a '90s UK TV series who in the course of the programme invented a board game called "Gurkha Tank Battle" that unexpectedly made him famous. Glad you thought it worked for Larry too

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I read the first part of this on Gyakuten Saiban on Live Journal, and I got impatient to read the rest, so I came here, and I found it! Good Job!

I'm kikkochan55 on LJ btw,

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Thank you, glad that you liked it

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I saw you post this over at LiveJournal and gushed when I read it. All I can say is WOW!! What a story. You are a genius. I'm glad that you developed their relationship, or rather re-build their friendship they had when as children. To rebuild what they had lost all those years ago, that's what I felt when I was reading this. This is an excellent piece of writing, I enjoyed it immensely. I especially enjoy it from and Artists perspective, I could picture many of the scenes very easily, well detailed and wonderfully written. Man sometimes I wish I could write like this.

Great Job!!

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I'm glad you liked it I daily wish I could draw!

Feel free to doodle from it if you like, I'm not precious since the whole thing is part of someone else's sandbox in any case, and I was originally inspired to write some fanfic for PW after reading other folks' knockout stuff on here - in particular Musouka and Croik.

This particular one is a bit personal, I guess, in a funny sort of way. So I'm glad it didn't come over as overly sentimental.

I'm still not 100% happy with some of the dialogue if I'm honest, mainly because after one dry run I deliberately decided to alternate the narrator rather than just write from Phoenix's POV and I think there's probably some "seepage" as a result.

But I'd get into hyper-critical mode and sit and pick nits for hours so instead decided the best thing to do was slap it up on the net to get some honest feedback on characterisation and so forth - then I can look at it with fresh eyes in a couple weeks and maybe overhaul some bits.

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I understand about nitpicking your own work. I do it all the time with my art projects for myself and for clients. It's like, "hmm, this looks good, but I can make it better, but then again...argh!"

I haven't read any of Musouka's work yet because I haven't played PW3, I don't want to get spoiled. I did read Croiks work, which is wonderfully awesome as well same with EdgeworthFanGirl's. You guys can sure write.

So I'll doodle, since you gave me the okay. Goody, once I start some pics I'll get them posted. I need to get a Photobucket account first, been using Imageshack for too long (I don't post my work through them though).

Again, keep up the good work.

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I think you can safely read this one of Musouka's:

http://www.court-records.net/fanfiction ... things.htm

It was one of the first fics I found online when I started poking around.

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I think the thing that impressed me most about this fic was the mood. You did a great job of capturing that sort of bittersweet sense of Christmas, and the way Phoenix tries to reach out to Edgeworth. While he might not succeed as well as he might have hoped--and that makes sense due to where this fic is on the timeline--it's still the beginning of something that weaves itself through all of the games: that special sense the two have for one another.

I appreciate the light touch you have with these two. I (duh) can see the romantic implications, but your fics also work well as friendship-fics. It's very true to how I see them in the game. (I also like that you're filling in gaps in the timeline. In a lot of respects that's more difficult than taking a wide open space and going to town)

Since you specifically asked about voices, I still say you're very much on key. You don't go too much one way or too much the other, both your Edgeworth and Phoenix feel good to me. Their interaction seems natural and true to the games. It really makes me smile.

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Thanks for having a look at this for me – I think your characterisation is so spot-on in your work that I have read – and your use of language also – that your input is very helpful. I’m out of practice at writing generally and don’t have much experience at all of trying to work with established characters.

I deliberately chose a short space of time to play around in for this fic and I have plans to write a couple more within the same space.

Two main reasons – first, because I haven’t written fiction for so long I thought a tight and somewhat restricted frame of time would be the best choice as I might get too ambitious for my own abilities if I allowed myself too much free rein.

Second - I really, really wanted to explore what it was that was so enormously momentous (to Phoenix) about Edgeworth running away after 1:5. For me, that’s not adequately set up in the epilogue to 1:4 and while 1:5 hints, it didn’t seem to me to be clear about quite WHY it was such an enormously affecting event for Phoenix given that he’s hardly unused to Edgeworth being an ass and it seemed from the games that he hadn’t actually had a personal conversation with him at all for 15 years. (Even knowing what I know from TT now still doesn't quite cover it in terms of specific circumstance).

I played JFA before AA and was convinced as a result that there had been some big reunion and then break up that had triggered Phoenix’s HE’S DEAD TO ME response and was a bit perplexed after I finished 2:4 and played AA that as it is, it all seems a bit melodramatic (I just can’t buy that someone would be so affected by courtroom stuff alone after having spent 15 years trying to rebuild a friendship and forgiving all lack of reciprocation without question).

Also, from Edgeworth’s POV, I thought there was space to play around with the reason why he was relatively happy-clappy at the end of 1:4 in terms of interacting with his friends but still chose to leave after 1:5, which seems to be a bit of a character direction reversal at that point and again, a somewhat melodramatic response if merely about the facts of a case. Not to mention the whole was he/wasn’t he a norty boy in court which is unfortunately vacillated on between 1:4 and 1:5 (I’m with Croik that they should have left it as YES HE WAS and not tried to say ACTUALLY IT WAS NEVER HIS FAULT but since they did, I figured that afforded room to write around too).

I don’t have any sense that there would be an overt romantic attachment between the two of them through AA or JFA, and possibly even until the end of TT if I’m honest (which is why I’m looking forward to reading your Struggling With Gravity fic as a fitting epilogue in a space where there exists the possibility for things to take a different course). They’re definitely two halves of a whole, I think that’s pretty clear in the games just from the bits when they’re in court, but that doesn’t necessarily lead to romance – it could easily go either way in my mind. I think their friendship is the most important story strand running through the games, so it’s what I’m concentrating on.

So yeah, that’s why I picked the specific point in time to write in. There are a few other minor bits that also bothered me so I figured I’d address - I wasn’t entirely comfortable with Edgeworth’s choice of car in 1:5, for a start. It seemed a bit … laddish … and not really in tune with his character as portrayed in the first 4 chapters.

I’m glad that the voices are coming over okay – that’s been my biggest concern, especially when dealing with two character POVs. I’m trying NOT to get too goofy with Phoenix or too wrist-nailed-to-forehead with Edgeworth but also to make them distinct, especially when dealing with their own thoughts, which is tricker than dialogue for me. I did cheat a bit here and alternate narrator by scene as a bit more structure helps for a beginner but I was still worried about bleed between the two - in fact there are still one or two bits I may rework.

I’m still not sure about the ending if I’m honest but it sort of wrote itself at that point and wasn’t quite what I had envisaged originally.

They’re certainly great characters to write about though and I’m having fun doing it, to whatever level.

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Please make more fanfics please *prods* I need some good reading material and most the stuff on here that looks good is GS3 spoiler riddled D:

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Yeah, I'm avoiding those as well for the most part so I know how you feel :)

I'm loving your Crying in Public stuff. You're extremely talented - I would never have been able to put together anything so mature at your age - I wrote a lot then but most of it was awful and has now been consigned to the shredder!

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Yeah, I desperately want to read that Struggling Against Gravity one that someone's doing but I started it and hit a semi-large spoiler and THEN noticed the spoiler warning and decided not to risk anything I didn't know (at least I already knew that spoiler beforehand.) So I'm prodding all the writers on here to write lovely things that DON'T involve T&T.

Thank you D: I'm trying to update it but this next update is going to be an epic fail...oh well. And don't shred it! I want to see! Shredding is never any good, really, because then it takes hours to put the pieces back together when you find you need them.

Make more stuff. *commands*

*rereads Starting Over out of love* It really does make me go squee.

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Well, I'm terribly flattered that you seem to think so highly of me. Most people don't generally seek out my opinion. (I think I'm too long winded or something. )



Hahaha, I'll defend 1-5 to the death in terms of Edgeworth's characterization, but moving along from that (since I don't think you want your fic thread to become a--no matter how well reasoned and polite--debate thread) I find this idea really interesting because it's so rarely touched on in PW fanfiction. I mean, in the sense you're going for, with that delicate balance. I really look forward to reading whatever you decide to write next.

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Well, what can I say - I'm of an age when I know what I like. I will admit to generally inclining in the direction of fiction that is as much about the process of "getting there" as it is about dramatic events. EM Forster was the cause of a great sea change in my tastes as a teenager in that regard.



Heh! Well, it's not so much how he's personally portrayed in 1:5 because if I'm absolutely honest that's the best hunting ground I've found for his personality. It's more his morals and motives I guess that I seem to find a bit obscured in waffle.

I'm always up for a good debate elsewhere as long as it doesn't involve txtspk

I'm dividing my time between three fics in the same period at once at the moment but they seem to be coming together in the wrong sequence which is not particularly helpful.

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I really like the raw emotion in this -- just the acknowledgement that everyone's much worse for the wear after the trial. It'd be a downer if you completed Turnabout Goodbyes and then saw the characters exhausted and awkward over it, that's a conceit to gameplay, but realistically it would be hard on everyone involved (poor Edgeworth especially). It's great to see the emotional aftermath explored like this. And you did a great job of fleshing out things touched on in the game, like how Phoenix says they all went out to celebrate but oh yah Edgeworth wasn't released until morning, and that's apparently all the thought anyone gave it. Always the job of a fanauthor to pry the truth out of comments like that!

And your theory makes a lot of sense, that if Phoenix and Edgeworth only connected the way the game showed us, it doesn't really make sense for Phoenix to get all drama queeny in JFA. Very true. Your story's a lovely, believable rendition of rekindling old friendship and the subtle touch of P/E felt right -- it matches the games' lingering sense of "most straight guys don't care this hard about each other".

So in summary, I was moved, and I hope to see more of your work!

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Glad you enjoyed it - I started on your TO EACH A TEMPO yesterday, as it happens, but got distracted by a friend's Dr Who fic!

I just posted the second of these "between 1:4 and 1:5" pieces I'm working on. It's a good bit shorter as there will be three that fit together (sort of) eventually. I genuinely enjoy writing these two characters together and also Edgeworth on his own.

I haven't found that many fics which use Edgeworth's POV so I've had to wing it a lot although it helps that I've now got to 3:5 in T&T!

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