a/n: this is based off of the song 'snow in venice' by elizaveta.

And maybe he wasn't happy enough, but there was something comforting about the way his cloudy breath swirled up into the snowflakes above him.

Miles glanced down at his beverage, a simple coffee with two creams and a sugar. He usually wasn't one for coffee, though, and it began to grow cold as Miles eyes' remained trained at the snow that kept falling outside. It was enthralling in the way waves crashed against the shore of a beach at night.

He didn't end up finishing the coffee. He dumped the cup in the trash before packing up his things in his briefcase and sounding the little bell as he exited the homely coffee shop. He stopped a moment to marvel at the light weight of the case. Is this really all he had packed for the flight?

It seemed travelling light was a curse and a blessing. It was a blessing in the way you weren't burdened with 'extra baggage', literally speaking, but a curse in what it implied. He did not have a home. The lack of weight in his hand mirrored how he felt inside; how his heart had gone missing.

It had been nearly an entire month since Miles had returned to his sister's home in Germany. Franziska wasn't around, but his other sister was. She gave Miles his space, and for that, he was grateful for. Miles had taken the opportunity to travel and perhaps refresh his cluttered state of mind. Of course, even an escape from his work couldn't provide him with peace.

He brought his laptop along with him. He monitored everything that was going on back in Los Angeles. He couldn't help it. Though Detective Gumshoe knew about his escapade, Phoenix Wright did not. Franziska did not. He wanted to keep close tabs on them. Just to make sure that everything was... alright.

There was so much weight behind those thoughts, and Miles could feel it settle in the pit of his stomach.

After boarding a taxi, Miles made it to the city's airport. The customs and departing gate were all a matter of a blur, and soon enough Miles found himself on the plane, with the low comforting murmur of a crowd in the background. He stared absentmindedly out his window, watching as the snow turned to rain. His window fogged up, and he raised a gloved finger to clean it before pausing.

He wrote his name on the glass.

Wright.

Miles checked his tickets again. Where would he be landing again? Ah, Berlin. Sometimes the locations were hard to keep track of. He put careful thought while he was booking them, of course, but it seemed that his mind liked to forget things as soon as they were no longer significant. Maybe that, or new thoughts kept replacing them.

Miles had come to clear his mind, and yet all he could find himself thinking of was...

He shook his mind. He had to at least try. He buckled his seatbelt when the attendant clacked by on her high heels, double checking all of the passengers. The plane took off, and Miles' gaze once again returned to outside of the window. While Phoenix's name was still reminiscent, the steam had mostly faded. He saw miles of city below him, with tiny cars crawling through it like an ant infestation.

His eyes returned to the name, Wright, which had almost faded away. He imagined what it would be like if he landed and Wright were there to greet him. He wondered what it would be like to have Wright there welcoming him at every landing. To see him in London, maybe in Paris. But he mostly wished for him now, to be there in Berlin.

He didn't understand why Wright was so important to him. He didn't know why he couldn't stop thinking about him.

He thought about it. Well, he was worried, naturally. He left Wright on his own back there. Would he be okay? Would Wright be okay... knowing that he wasn't alive?

Of course he would be. He had Maya Fey, and he still had his mentor, in a strange roundabout way. Phoenix Wright would be fine. In fact, it probably didn't even upset him that much.

That's a lie, a quiet voice told him. You remember all that he's done for you.

Miles brows furrowed in a frown. That was the whole damn reason he was here. Having Phoenix Wright back in his life for three months was too much, apparently, just like last time and he couldn't stay. He had turned his life upside down in a single trial in which he thought himself as good as dead. But Wright wouldn't understand that. He was too... oblivious. He didn't understand how complicated this all really was.

But maybe he would see him again.

Miles drifted off, and the next instant when he opened his eyes, he was staring outside the window at grassy plains. Apparently this was Berlin.

It was snowing again, and Miles couldn't force back the smile that lit up his face.

Maybe it was a sign that he could go home now.

I'll be on my way.

The moment he stepped outside, a cold breeze brushed past him. It was a bit of a long walk to the nearest telephone booth, and he heaved a sigh of relief once he shut himself outside. His trembling hands reached for the phone, frozen fingers dialing double oh one, and those familiar numbers.

It wasn't Wright, of course.

"Oh, hey Mr. Edg-"

"Detective! I must ask that you please refrain from using my name. Is anyone with you at the moment?"

"Oh, uh, sorry, heh! I'm actually with Mr. Wright and little Pearl right now."

"Well then, thank goodness I interrupted to you. How are they doing?"

"Well, Mr. Wright isn't doing so well, but he's hanging in there. Are you... going to do it now?"

"Wright isn't doing well?" Miles repeated.

"Well, things are looking worse for Ms. Fey, you know."

Miles pursed his lips, contemplating. "Is that him in the background?"

"Yeah. He's mumbling about the case to himself, and he's holding on this cellphone real tight for some reason."

Miles felt his heart drop at that for some reason. He could hear Phoenix's dull, yet frenzied rambling. Maybe he really wasn't alright.

He sounded so strange.

"Uh, sir... are you going to...?"

Miles stayed silent for a long moment. Perhaps it was a moment too long, however, because he ran out of minutes. He stuck a hand in his pocket, only to realize he had run out of change.

There was nothing he would not miss about Venice. The atmosphere, the snow, and even all the wasted coffee.

And yet, he realized that there was so much more to miss about Los Angeles.

This brief euphoria was short-lived, however. His meeting with Wright was explosive... to say the least. But at least this time, he understood what it was like for the other man. Just a little, just a taste of the death that had never occurred.

Once the case was over, things settled down for a bit.

He wondered if things were finally over, once and for all, for a single moment.

I wonder if I will see you again.

After all, I'm home.

But Phoenix came into his life once again, as he always did, but this time his eyes were welled with tears, and he was hastily brushing them off before dissolving into a rant about how much he had put him through and Miles tried his best to explain, he really did, but words didn't seem to do much here.

He was overwhelmed by the emotion Phoenix could express in his those warm, chestnut eyes. He could feel something inside of him melt, and that warm feeling began to trickle through his veins. He ruined the moment by making a joke and grinning, however, but that only riled Miles up even more. His heart flipped at the hand he placed on his shoulder.

And finally, Phoenix hugged him, and Miles let him.

Miles rested his head on his shoulder for the briefest moment, and the scent eased him into a lightheaded state, and an answer began to form in his mind.

Maybe he wasn't happy enough, but there was so much comforting about the man in front of him.