Stretch.
1.Parting.
T: First fandom fic but by no stretch of the imagination the first ever fic so constructive criticism welcome. GS4 characters and general set up will be mentioned but, as I started this thing having not played a single moment of the game, spoilers should be kept to a minimum! Vague AU, Slash, giant piles of angst, OOC, the twisting of characters for my own end and other such lovely things! Ace Attorney/ Gyakuten Saiban is not mine.
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It had started, what seemed like a lifetime ago, with the forceful necessity of a phone call.
The other had laughed a little for the 'out of character' behaviour, rambled aimlessly about seemingly meaningless things and eventually agreed to forward the documents that'd begun the whole debacle in the first place. They'd arrived two days later in a thickly padded priority mail parcel and he'd been questioning the necessity of such and expenditure on the other's meagre budget when he'd caught sight of the envelope pressed at the very base of the thing.
Mumbling reprimands about foolish defence attorneys he'd read the thing and, out of some misplaced sense of obligation, he'd written the other the briefest of replies. Somehow the matter had spiralled from there and, in the space of a month; the exchanging of such letters had become a weekly habit.
He'd allowed himself to believe that it was the other's charisma that'd kept the thing going, that denying the other the chance to spread his unique brand of 'good cheer' would be as denying the sun the chance to shine on the world. The sudden, fractured, phone call from Maya at 2.00 am on random Sunday, as well as the 'visit' that'd come out of that call, had brought him to see that that was not, in fact, the case. Had brought him too see a truth that he'd been denying for what'd seemed like the entirety of his existence.
He can not recall why he'd been awake at such a foolishly early hour or quite what he'd been doing in the brief instant before the phone had rung. He can, however, recall the odd note of stress that'd been in Maya's voice as she'd apologised for the timing of the call and as she'd explained that she'd only remembered about the time difference the moment that she'd heard the fatigue in his voice. He recalls also that she'd garbled a little before getting to the point of the call, that the nervousness that'd entered her voice at that moment had placed an odd discomfort in his stomach that'd only dislodged itself after she'd given over the 'entirety' of her tail and made her heartfelt plea.
He'd agreed to the request with the greatest of reserve and it'd only been when he'd seen the other, when he'd seen how well founded Maya's concern had been, that he'd understood that he had not, in fact, made a mistake.
The visit had been an intriguing, relaxing, affair, the intimacy that they'd built up with the letters allowing them to be more 'causal' with one another than they had the last that they'd been 'face to face'.
On the very last day of the visit they'd sat out on the lawn together and created patterns in the stars, a childish activity that'd brought with it a wash of sensations and memories that he'd believed lost years previous.
"Thanks for putting me up like this, Miles." The other had remarked, his voice tinged in a sheepish embarrassment that he'd explained a moment later by remarking, "The truth is that I had to be pushed into doing this…I felt stupid letting something so simple get to me like that, you see…unsurprisingly Maya, once again, knows best."
"So what is this 'simple thing', Phoenix?"
"Things between Iris and I have 'come to a natural conclusion'" The words had been simple enough and the other had uttered them in a casual sort of a manner and yet his heart had leapt a little at the sound of them.
The other had laughed off the sudden tense silence that'd followed the confession and had begun to wax lyrical about the probability of there being intelligent life in space. He, in turn, had sat motionless at the other's side, his heart beating hard in his chest and his mind filled with the hot certainty that he was in love with his best friend, that he had been as such for a long, long, time.
In the empty, silent, week after the other had returned to L.A. he'd thought things through logically, had played out each and every situation in his head and had made the choice to keep this new revelation to himself.
It was a decision that'd proved easy enough while their only points of contact were the weekly letters and the occasional phone call, but once the other had started to make impromptu visits, either on his own or with his 'entourage', things had become a little more complex. It had little helped that the other's manner had become more and more causal, or that the solitary visits grew longer and closer together.
Eventually everything had culminated in a 'flying visit' that, even years after its conclusion, he was still unable to forget.
It'd been half a year since the first letter had fallen through his mail box and, wishing to celebrate this 'anniversary' the other had treated him to a decent meal in a decent restaurant and then purchased a bottle of stupidly expensive rose for them to enjoy as they strolled down the banks of the Seine.
"Here's to an amazing half a year!" The other had remarked as he'd taken a swig from the bottle and then passed it into his care.
"Here's to many more like it." He'd responded as he'd drained the thing of the last of its contents and then tossed it into a nearby trash can.
The other had smiled an odd smile and gesturing for them to pause a moment, he'd enquired,
"You're not just saying that, are you Miles?"
"Why would you ask something like that?"
"Because I can't help feeling like I've pushed things a little…can't help feeling that you were happier when we kept a minimum amount of contact." There'd been an irresistible note of regret in the other's voice and, closing a little of the distance between them, he'd said,
"That could not be further from the truth."
The moment had drawn out for an infinite space of time, then the other had smiled a beautiful smile and, oh so slowly, he'd begun to bend down towards him.
The shrill, digital, replica of the Steel Samurai theme tune had cut between them but an instant before they'd connected and, skin flushing, the other had gained again the distance between them.
After a flurried few moments he'd placed the phone back into his pocket and remarked,
"I have to go home."
A week later a hastily written letter from the other had explained that an important case had come up and that he was going to be tied up for a little while. The other had apologised, profusely, for the haste of his exit and, at the very end of the thing, had promised, 'we can talk it through when we see one another next'.
That'd been the last that he'd had any form of communication from the other …the last that he'd considered his world 'sane.
For the first month of silence he'd blamed the forward nature of his actions, had written letter after letter begging for an apology and asking for the chance for things to be as they once had. Then a rumoured whisper that 'Phoenix Wright, Ace Attorney, had been 'forced' into an early retirement,' had reached his ear and he'd understood everything.
From that instant onwards he'd dedicated himself to the task of helping the other, had retrained as a defence attorney in order that he might be allowed to learn everything he could of the case that'd 'broke' the great Phoenix Wright.
Once he'd felt confident in his ability to achieve his goal he'd sold his house, his law firm and moved himself back to L.A.
Subtle probing had led him to a back alley bar where, according to his sources, he was most likely to find the other.
With hindsight it might have been sensible to have rested a little before making the trip, or to have paused for bite to eat. As it was he'd not managed the hot, clawing, atmosphere of the place for more than an hour before the combination of jet lag and hunger had 'gotten the better' of him and he'd fainted.
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T: Expect the next update next week at some random point, until then how about a review??