Title: Prosecutor Wright

Rating: T

Summary: The Devil plays his hand earlier than expected.

.I.

The office had changed since the last he'd been there, and he wasn't sure what aggravated him more— that it had fallen into such utter disarray in such a relatively short amount of time, or that it had, somehow, managed to retain whatever it was that proclaimed it the Wright and Co. Law Offices. By rights any lingering professionalism that existed should have died a slow, suffocating death the day it became the 'Wright Anything Agency' and filled with the… things cluttered around him, yet there he stood, glaring down a plate of plastic spaghetti complete with 'mysterious' floating cutlery and struck with how very Wright it all was.

Only that man could turn a law office into a talent agency at the drop of a hat. He was adaptable, he'd give him that… but then, his entire career in court had been about adaptability, taking what little was given and spinning out impossible arguments that turned entire cases around in the blink of an eye. Perhaps that was why he wasn't surprised by the change. In the end, though, it didn't really matter how much the office had or hadn't changed… Not when it offered no explanation as to the sudden disappearance of ex-lawyer Phoenix Wright.

Miles Edgeworth pressed two fingers to his temple, fighting back the steady ache attempting to rise once again. He'd been nursing the headache for most of the morning, and the garish colors decorating the office weren't exactly helping the matter. If he were entirely honest with himself, it was probably a waste of time even being here, but he'd insisted on investigating the scene on his own, despite the police having already searched the premises. Wright had been missing for over seventy-two hours; at this point in time, any clue was a good clue, one he intended to find.

Except, there were none.

"…Sir?"

There was a knock at the open door, followed by Detective Gumshoe stepping hesitantly over the threshold. Edgeworth said nothing; he cast one last, searching look around the room… and sighed, heavily.

"Detective," he said, a short monotone, "You're certain this is the last known location of his whereabouts?"

If the lack of greeting bothered Gumshoe at all, it didn't show.
"No doubt about it, sir," he replied automatically, transitioning to business with hardly a blink, "Eyewitnesses have confirmed it. The last phone call he made came from here, too, but after that…"

"…I see."

"Incidentally, the last person to talk to him was his daughter. She's the one who phoned the police when he didn't show."

The daughter. Wright's daughter. A daughter who was now missing her father. His stomach clenched uncomfortably, but Edgeworth pushed the thoughts aside for a later time when he could actually afford to act on them. There was no doubt the police had already followed up with that particular lead, but he needed to ask anyway, to hear it with his own ears. "And she was questioned?"

"Yes, sir. Didn't know anything that would help. From the sounds of it, Mr. Wright had a habit of going out at odd hours. Sometimes he'd be out the whole day, or longer."

Edgeworth folded his arms in thought, a lone finger tapping out a pattern on his sleeve.

"How did she know to report him as missing? Surely she was used to sudden absences," he pressed, but Gumshoe had a ready answer.

"Wright missed a call. According to her, whenever he went out he'd call her at an appointed time to check in, no matter what. The day he went missing, well…"

"He failed to do so."

"'Fraid so."

Gumshoe dropped his head after that, scratching in a familiar gesture, and that wasn't all. The detective was shifting back and forth on his feet, and through the conversation had refused to meet the other's eyes. The actions betrayed his unease; Edgeworth's annoyance flared in turn.

"Detective Gumshoe, if you have something to say, then say it," he said tersely, more of an order than a request. Gumshoe bit his lip, clearly at odds.

"It's just… You aren't going to like this, pal," he said, haltingly, "But, this case… it's not exactly a new one, you know?"

Edgeworth now had a sneaking suspicion as to the direction this was taking, but he feigned ignorance, and glared accordingly.

"No, detective, I don't know. Explain to me what you mean."

Gumshoe flinched… but to his credit, didn't back down. He squared his shoulders while sucking in a sharp breath; preparing himself to deliver whatever it was he was thinking.

"Look, pal, you heard the news a few years ago. A trial went wrong. Mr. Wright gets disbarred. He loses face in the legal world, gets called out in the streets. Do you know what some of the guys at the precinct call him? The Forgin' Attorney. Think it's funny." Gumshoe snorted, showing exactly what he thought of the name before continuing. "To top it off, suddenly he's got this kid that isn't his on his back and bills to pay; the only job he has is shuffling cards at a sleazy joint downtown— trust me on this, it's sleazy— and the future isn't looking all that bright, is it?"

The more Gumshoe spoke, the less Edgeworth liked it, and he almost regretted asking the detective to speak his mind. His finger had ceased tapping; now, they were digging sharply at his arms, knuckles white with tension.

"To summarize, then. What you're telling me," he all but spat, feeling his temper rise with each word on his tongue, "Is that you believe—"

Gumshoe interrupted him mid-sentence.

"The opinion of the police is that Phoenix Wright skipped town," he said with an air of subdued finality, "The pressure got to him, he checked out before things got worse."

"Without a word to his friends, colleagues? To his own daughter?"

"Again, it's not like she's biologically his. Pal, I didn't even know he had a daughter until she called the cops. Besides, people have walked out on more, for less reason than this. Like I said, I've seen it before. It isn't pretty, but…"

The headache, previously at a tolerable level if not a comfortable one, decided to increase at that exact moment, and Edgeworth abruptly shut his eyes against the wave of pain. There was now nothing more he wanted than a glass of water and a bottle of aspirin— no, he had neither, and would likely not have a chance to fetch some for a while yet. So he held his breath for a silent count of ten… released it. Adjusted his glasses to a more comfortable position on the bridge of his nose. Only when his temper had ebbed to a reasonable level did he allow himself to speak.

"…I do not accept the conclusion the force has come to," he said evenly. The steel was still in his words, however, razor sharp and unyielding. Gumshoe made to take an unconscious step back before checking himself; instead he stood with no small amount of uncertainty, and it showed.

"…Sir?"

"Say what you will, this is not a case of abandonment. Phoenix Wright is no coward— he would not run from his problems with his tail between his legs, or are we not speaking of the same man who once braved a burning bridge at the mere thought of someone close to him in danger?"

Delivered with the utmost precision, the words hit their mark; the detective visibly flinched, guilt rising and vanishing on his downcast face. Edgeworth held him in a leveled glare, filled with reproach for even suggesting such an idea. "Clearly the police have not investigated this case as thoroughly as they should."

"Hey, now, don't go blaming the police, pal!" said Gumshoe, but the protest was halfhearted. "There's just… not much for us to go on."

"Isn't there any speculation on a different theory?" Edgeworth argued back, "Our missing man both failed to show at his workplace, and to call his daughter as routine required. He wouldn't casually forget responsibilities like these. Therefore, perhaps it's not that he didn't perform them… but that he couldn't."

His arms were crossed again, finger tapping rapidly away. Gumshoe was quiet, but listening all the same with a deep frown.

"So… what you're saying…"

"Clearly, there is only one explanation that remains. Something, or someone, is responsible for Phoenix Wright's disappearance."

Just like that, the unspoken words were in the air, and the weight was palpable. This was not a casual statement to make, and Edgeworth had no hesitations in making it, but… it was Gumshoe's odd silence afterwards that struck him as out of place. The expression on the detective's face seemed thoughtful, not the disbelieving or uncomfortable reaction he'd expected.

"So basically, sir, you suspect foul play?" said Gumshoe, brow furrowed together. Edgeworth's nod was curt, as he began to pace along the floor of the office.

"Yes," he said simply, "Considering his track record in court, it's hardly presumptuous to say he had enemies. Even ones who meant him harm." A beat. "Considering his disappearance now and the manner of it… I would have thought foul play one of the first angles explored. And yet you say the police are of a singular theory." He looked up sharply. Gumshoe cringed in shame.

"There isn't anything I can do about it, pal," he muttered, "I'm not leading this case. If that's what the force thinks, then…"

"I don't care what the force thinks," Edgeworth snapped, feeling his temper creep back into his speech, "What I care about right now is what you think. Do you actually buy this abandonment clap-trap?"

"What I think… is that you know more than you're letting on, Mister Edgeworth, sir."

…That wasn't the answer he was expecting. It was enough to give him pause in the middle of his steps with an incredulous look and a raised eyebrow.

"I don't follow," said Edgeworth, perplexed, while Gumshoe gritted his teeth and pressed forward.

"C'mon, sir, it's a kinda… well, obvious, pal." He scratched at his neck. "Three days ago, Mister Wright disappears. A day later, you're stepping off a plane and there's no way someone could've told you the news that fast."

"A chance progression of events," Edgeworth said slowly, yet shifted uneasily despite himself.

"Yeah, you say that, but sir… weren't you out of the country for a few more months?"

…He had no rebuttal to that. Gumshoe sigh, the corner of his mouth twitching.

"Yeah, see? Even I didn't know you were back until you showed up, out of the blue. Plus, you weren't surprised when you heard the news. Not like you'd normally be. First thing you wanted was the report, who he'd talked to last, the places he'd been… awfully specific questions, you know?"

It suddenly occurred to him that Gumshoe, of all people, was staring him down. His stance had changed, not to a threatening one, but to a wary one all the same, and if Edgeworth didn't know any better…

"…Detective Gumshoe, are you interrogating me?" he asked, slowly, half-disbelieving, and Gumshoe… chuckled, albeit humorlessly.

"I don't want to do this, sir, and I'm sorry, but… I'm calling you out on this, because of all the guys on this case, you are the only one to assume foul play right out of the gate. Heck, maybe even before you got to it."

As if to reassure himself, Gumshoe took a deep breath and squared his shoulders, looking his superior dead in the eye. "Pal, right now I'm gonna ask you this as a detective, and I want you to answer in the best way you can; do you, or do you not have any knowledge about Phoenix Wright's disappearance that could help the police?"

For a minute Edgeworth couldn't bring himself to speak. Instead he stared with no small astonishment at the other, opened his mouth, and… started to laugh.

"What— sir, I'm being serious, here!" Gumshoe protested as Edgeworth made no effort to hide his amusement. "Aw, c'mon pal, stop laughing!"

"I'm not— I don't mean to—" his attempts were quickly smothered, but soon enough the laughter died away, leaving Edgeworth with a very different look.

"…Detective Gumshoe, I owe you an apology," he said, and his tone was rueful. "I've been giving you far too little credit concerning this case."

"…Oh. Well, I'm just doing my job, you know," said Gumshoe, looking rather pleased, then steeled himself back to seriousness. "I'm not taking back the question, though."

"Of course not. I owe you that much."

Any lingering humor died away as Edgeworth went silent, thinking. His mouth was a thin line, and finally, he inclined his head… with regret.

"…I have no useful information pertaining to Wright's disappearance," he said quietly, and Gumshoe looked down, obviously crushed.

"Uh… oh."

"That isn't to say I don't have any idea," Edgeworth added. Gumshoe brightened, then shrank at the dark look the other gave him.

"Well, any news is good news, especially now… right, sir?" he asked hopefully. Edgeworth's arms folded, a lone finger once again tapping to a hidden rhythm.

"…some weeks ago, Wright asked to meet with me," he began. "I had already made plans to spend time in Germany, but I agreed to meet with him at a later date. That date… was yesterday."

"Wha—" Gumshoe started, shocked, but was silenced with a glare.

"As the meeting clearly never happened, it has no relevance. What is important is the call he made to arrange said meeting."

A shadow passed in his expression, and Edgeworth was silent again. "It was short. He had some matter he needed advice on; he wouldn't say over the phone. At the end of the call… he made a small allusion to being in some danger."

"What?" Gumshoe made no attempt to stay quiet at that, "Sir, that's really important! Did he say what kind—"

"I am not finished, detective!" Edgeworth snapped, "If he had shared something so crucial I would be acting on it, but as it was, he turned it into a joke and changed the subject. I'm ashamed to say that the incident passed from my mind, until the moment I found out about this whole mess… Wright, you utter fool!"

The final phrase was almost a shout as Edgeworth curled his hands into fists and turned abruptly away. His heart hammered in his chest, his head throbbed painfully, but he was angry not at Gumshoe, not at Wright… well, partly at Wright, but mostly at himself, for dismissing such a seemingly harmless conversation.

He should have taken it seriously.

He should have pressed him further.

He should have…

…losing his temper would not help him now.

Bit by bit, he pushed his anger back, until the heat had ebbed just enough to let him think clearly again, but the conflict still swirled in the pit of his stomach. It was almost enough to make him sick, except there was no time to let it consume him. Not now. Not yet.

Gumshoe was watching him, his worry clear, and Edgeworth mustered just enough energy for a wan smile.

"I wish I knew more. But… that's all I know," he said, bitterly. Well, there was also the matter of… no, that was a separate issue. Edgeworth drew a shuddering breath; the air was becoming suffocating, here in the Wright Anything Agency. "You've heard my opinion, detective; I am curious as to know yours. Do you actually believe that Wright would disappear on his own?"

The detective went rigid.

"I…I…" he stuttered, uncertain at first until…

"…I don't believe a word of it! Not for one second!"

Just like that, Gumshoe was back to his old self, scowling and comically red in the face as his shoulders rose and fell in his anger. "No matter what the guys say, Mister Wright would never do something like this! He's not the kind of guy to walk out, just like you said— he's been in tough spots before, but something's gotta be wrong for him to disappear like this!" He stopped abruptly, wheezing from lack of oxygen, then launched right back into the tirade. "And little Miss Wright… she's the sweetest kid I ever met! Disappeared or not, I'm gonna land one on Mister Wright's face for making her cry! Just… it doesn't make sense, pal, it doesn't make sense at all!"

With an agitated growl Gumshoe spun on the spot, pulled at his hair in frustration, hastily flattened it back, and turned to face Edgeworth again, his anger draining away as his shoulders slumped in defeat.

"Look, you think its foul play and I think its foul play, but fact of the matter is there's nothing to show for it, Mister Edgeworth, sir. We haven't found a single thing, and that's why they aren't taking this case too seriously. There's just… there's nothing I can do." His gaze dropped, eyes suspiciously bright, and just like that… there was nothing more to be said.

Perhaps it was time to bring this visit to an end. Staying any longer would waste the little time he had left.

"You speak for the investigation when you say no leads have been found here… correct?" Edgeworth asked, allowing himself one last, searching look around the office, lingering over the clutter, the 'magic' fork, the lone desk sitting in a dark, dusty corner.

"Hate to say it, but… yeah. We turned the place upside down, but… nothing. Except… well, nah, that's about it."

He shrugged, unperturbed. Meanwhile, Edgeworth felt his blood pressure rise.

"Detective," he growled, looming suddenly and threateningly overhead. Gumshoe squeaked.

"No— I didn't mean it like that!" he protested, waving his hands in hopes of mercy, "I mean, there's this one thing that bugged me, but I don't think it's that important, so—"

"Show me. Now."

Quivering slightly, Gumshoe pointed out the office's bookshelf.

"Saw it when forensics checked for prints," he said meekly, "It's… obvious, but not really obvious, so I thought…"

Anything else he said was ignored; Edgeworth had already moved to investigate.

It wasn't hard to miss, but looking at it, he could see how it was overlooked. The spot in question was lower section stuffed with books… save for one end, where several volumes appeared to have been neatly removed. Edgeworth's mind set to work, rapidly spinning the information in front of him into tentative threads of logic.

There was a conspicuous gap where the books had been. He had no way of knowing the specific ones removed, but the surrounding books were all on the subject of law. Wright could have easily taken them himself, having no longer needed them; but then again, why not all the law books?

That theory was quickly discarded, for a more favorable tell was evident; the thick layer of dust coating the entire bookshelf. Nothing had been touched for a long time… save for the conspicuous gap. Where the books had once been was now a clean length of shelf, free from dust. Hardly any dust had collected since. Therefore, they had been removed recently. Very recently.

Perhaps in the last few days, even. The thread of logic strengthened, spinning madly in search of a connection, and…

…unraveled.

"Sir?" Gumshoe looked on in question as Edgeworth sighed, heavily. Perhaps this was a clue. Perhaps it wasn't. There simply was nothing to support it otherwise, and at this moment, his logic had no effect. Still, it was something to act on, and he had no intention of letting anything pass him by.

"Have this photographed, and sent to me," he ordered, "If you can, see if you can find these books in this office. Ascertain whether or not they are present or are, in fact, missing."

"Yes, sir!" said Gumshoe with a quick salute. "Is there anything else you'd like to do, or…?"

"No. Unfortunately, I've spent all the time I can." It was true; he'd been here far too long. Without another word he turned and made for the office door in quick strides. Caught off guard, Gumshoe scrambled to catch up, sending his own quick look around the office as he did so.

"So… what will you do now?" the detective asked, and at the threshold Edgeworth paused.

"I… have an obligation to address," he said.

In a flash of red he rounded the corner and was gone, leaving Gumshoe to lock up the office behind him; it was technically a crime scene, and under the jurisdiction of the police.

Gumshoe still wondered, though; even he had noticed the faltering words, and the way the prosecutor had avoided him in his mention of a mysterious obligation.

He hadn't been back in town for that long. What obligation could possibly be as important as the case at hand?

.

.

.

.

(A/N): Ah yes another story. I'm working on my other stuff... I swear... eventually...

writer's block is a terrible thing to have on the first chapter lol, I'm still iffy about the writing in the end here but I managed because I'm a bit excited for this story. It's actually more or less outlined so theoretically I should be able to write it in a timely manner...

anyway, hope you enjoy!