Mandelbrot

Phoenix Wright was distinctly unsettled.

In front of him, the topic turned toward appreciation for his generosity, with Maya leading the charge and the detective and photographer following suit. Phoenix interjected a few thoughtful "Huh?"s as the speaker changed; he was finding it increasingly difficult to track the conversation while his mind raced in an entirely separate direction. Abrupt, it was too abrupt, the conclusion came in warning tones. Who should be thanking whom...

Phoenix objected, anxiety twisting and curling in his gut.

Operating as much on instinct as rational thought, Phoenix made his way back through the lobby, barely attending to his assistant's sincere words of gratitude as she recounted her brush with assassination. Excusing himself as politely as he could manage, Phoenix tore down the front steps of the Gatewater Hotel and let himself into the back seat of the nearest taxi parked outside. "Did you see an obnoxious red sports car leave here?" he asked the driver breathlessly. When the driver nodded his assent, Phoenix ground out, "Find it and follow it," jaw clenched painfully against the sense of déjà vu creeping along his spine.

You tried this on me once, Edgeworth. I'm not letting you get away with it again.

Traffic on the 105 was unusually light, and within twenty minutes the cab had pulled onto the ramp leading into the great expanse of the Los Angeles International Airport. Phoenix snorted softly at the (ridiculous pink) illuminated columns. "What terminal?" the driver inquired. Obtaining no response from the attorney staring sullenly out the window, he tried again, louder this time. "Sir? What terminal? What airline do you need?" Phoenix's head snapped up at the intrusion to his reverie, momentarily perplexed. "Airline? I...uh...that is, just follow the car like I told you."

"I did follow the car, sir," the exasperated driver replied. "He went into hourly parking. Now what airline?"

"Hourly...oh," Phoenix mumbled, realization slowly penetrating his mental haze. "No, no, this'll be fine. Uh...thanks," he added as an afterthought. He slid a few twenties out of his wallet and handed them to the driver, who himself looked as confused as Phoenix felt. Lost in thought once again, Phoenix closed the taxi door behind him and crossed over to the parking ramp, narrowly missing death by shuttle bus three times along the way.

If he's in hourly, it means he's either picking someone up or dropping them off – no way would he leave his precious monstrosity in short-term, let alone hourly, if he were going somewhere himself, Phoenix mused. He studiously avoided considering the relief that coursed through him at the thought. May as well find it at any rate. Phoenix sighed at the thought. I need to have it out with him sometime, and now's as good as any. So where the hell did he park that thing?

Two floors and five rows later, Phoenix was face-to-face with an ostentatious red vehicle bearing state-issued plates. Finally, Phoenix remarked to himself, blotting a bead of sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. I'm sure he wouldn't mind if I just waited in – The thought was interrupted by a piercing shriek emitted from somewhere in the vicinity of the dashboard, causing Phoenix to jump and swivel his head about wildly.

The sound was accompanied by the car's headlights, which flashed in time to the wailing noise. "Great job, Wright, just great," Phoenix muttered. I should have known. Fighting his quickened heartbeat, Phoenix crept around to the driver's side door. Tentatively, he reached out toward the handle, but no sooner had he ghosted his fingers across the smooth plastic than the car horn joined in the din. Abandoning all hope, Phoenix ran full-tilt behind the nearest pillar, where he hid.

When his pulse and breathing had slowed again, Phoenix began to devise a new plan of attack. It's not unlocked, and I can't just fake being the driver, he noted. I wonder if I have anything with me that I can use to pick the lock? Phoenix ran down his mental inventory: Attorney's badge...nope, can't use that. Maya's magatama... "Shit," he groaned aloud. She probably needs this before she goes back to Kurain Village. Meanwhile, I haven't seen her in days, and here I am chasing after Edgeworth like a moron... Distracted by his mental self-recrimination, Phoenix did not hear the measured footsteps that signaled the approach of his judiciary rival.

Edgeworth surveyed his automobile, once again silent and obedient. "You can come out now, Wright," he remarked in his customary sardonic tone. "It won't bite while I'm around."

Phoenix peered around from behind the pillar, an embarrassed grimace evident on his features. Unable to meet Edgeworth's pointed stare, he instead ran a hand through his spiked hair and gazed balefully at the offending vehicle. "How'd you know it was me?"

Edgeworth tapped his finger against his temple, as though mulling it over – Bastard knows exactly what he's going to say; why does he always have to put me through this? Phoenix fumed silently – and then pointed a well-manicured index finger straight at the other lawyer. "A run-of-the-mill criminal would have given up after the first alarm went off. Even if a particularly foolhardy thief wanted to try again, anyone with an ounce of common sense would have fled the scene the second time instead of waiting for the owner to return. Ergo..." he concluded, and swept his arm to the side in a grand gesture. "Now get in, unless you feel you haven't wasted enough money on cab fare tonight."

Phoenix remained unmoved, literally and figuratively. He squared his stance against Edgeworth, returning the prosecutor's earlier gesture with a pointed finger of his own. "Edgeworth!" he retorted, voice rising with emotion. "I'm not going anywhere until you tell me what the hell's going on! You waltz back into my life after a year with exactly as much warning as you left it – that is to say, none – you take over the Prosecutor's Office like you'd never gone, let alone written a fake fucking suicide note, and then after one case you're back at the damn airport without a word to anybody! What the hell were you even doing here, anyway?"

To Edgeworth's credit, the only visual cue to his mounting irritation was the slightest hint of a twitch forming in the corner of his right eye, though his tone was especially sharp as he demanded, "Wright. Get in the car, now."

"No," Phoenix responded immediately, crossing his arms defiantly in front of him.

The twitch grew more pronounced. "What do you want, Wright?" Edgeworth growled. He began to advance on Phoenix, walking around the car with the same slow, measured steps as before. "You want to attract attention right here, is that it? 'Famous defense attorney caught breaking into prosecutor's car!' 'Civil servants take the law into their own hands at LAX!' I'm sure that will look lovely all over the evening news – or would you prefer a special feature on Court TV? Maybe a tabloid appearance or two? Let's just become a regular Corrida and Engarde ourselves while we're at it, shall we!" Edgeworth opened the passenger side door himself, and then, moving faster than Phoenix would have thought possible for the perpetually deliberate prosecutor, Edgeworth was behind him. "I know you and I have unfinished business, Wright," Edgeworth murmured low into Phoenix's ear, breath warm against his neck. "But not here...so get in." A strong hand pushed down against his shoulder, and Phoenix was too caught up by the blood surging through his veins to offer resistance. The door closed with an audible click, but even that failed to register as Phoenix considered the uncomfortable stirring in his groin Edgeworth's tone had provoked. Seconds later, Edgeworth himself reappeared beside Phoenix, and the red car hummed to life.

The drive to the Prosecutor's Office was a blur; Phoenix stared out the window and ignored the well-lit Los Angeles skyline. He followed Edgeworth, mute, up the elevator and into the office, and it wasn't until he saw the prosecutor remove his customary fuchsia suit jacket and hang it neatly on the back of the desk chair that Phoenix started, blinking owlishly at the other man as he set a pot of tea to steep.

"So, here we are," Edgeworth observed softly as he finally turned around.

"Here we are," Phoenix echoed, unsure of what exactly one says to one's – what one says to Edgeworth at a time like this. Right, the airport. "So what exactly was it that you were doing at the airport?" Phoenix asked, prior indignation fading to a mixture of confusion and genuine curiosity. "Apparently you weren't bailing on m– on all of us again, so..."

Edgeworth regarded Phoenix for a long moment before answering. "If you must know," he finally replied, "I was seeing Franziska off." At Phoenix's wide-eyed look, he continued, "Apparently her success record here was not to her liking, so she decided to return home for the time being. Though she did have some rather choice things to say about 'Mr. Phoenix Wright' before she finally left..."

"Did she, now," Phoenix inquired dryly. "And I'm sure you had some equally choice replies for her."

"I did," Edgeworth assented, though he declined to elaborate. He sipped at his tea, and something in the distinctive smugness of his expression (so typical, like everything's normal again, and perfect, perfect like Edgeworth) sent Phoenix over the edge. He plucked the teacup from Edgeworth's (perfectly) refined and elegant grip. Though he really would have preferred to smash it against the wall, something in Edgeworth's pained call of "Wright..." stayed Phoenix's hand, and he settled for depositing the teacup roughly on Edgeworth's desk and fisting his hands in the prosecutor's shirtfront instead. The impact jarred the beverage, and several drops of tea sloshed over cup's lip and wound their way to the unprotected wood of the desk below. Edgeworth made a disapproving sound in the back of his throat, and Phoenix swiveled his gaze around, meeting Edgeworth's in challenge.

"It's not normal," Phoenix insisted, this time aloud. "I'm not perfect, and you're...you."

"Indeed," Edgeworth acknowledged, brows knotting in puzzlement. He gesticulated between himself and Phoenix, unsure of where exactly to place his hands and equally unsure of how to detach the defense attorney from his shirt without addressing the first question. Ultimately he stilled them in midair, approximately equidistant from both broad pairs of shoulders.

"Don't you see, Edgeworth?" Phoenix forged ahead, oblivious to the prosecutor's plight. "My whole life since fourth grade has revolved around you. And then you disappeared one day, I thought it was for good, and I had to figure it all out by myself. And it was hard, Edgeworth, but I did it. And now you've come back, and I have to figure it out all over again."

"Hardly," Edgeworth drawled. "I left to learn what I needed to in order to perform my job well and serve the people of this city. Or are you saying you still can't do that yourself, even after all the hints I gave you during the trial? Do you truly still not understand?"

Phoenix's hands tightened, nudging Edgeworth forward and pulling a small sound of surprise from him as well. "What I'm saying is, you make me crazy," Phoenix argued. "And I...I..."

I give up.

Phoenix let go of Edgeworth's shirt with one hand to clutch the soft fabric of his cravat instead, and in one fluid motion tugged the prosecutor toward him until their lips met in a sloppy, close-lipped, altogether very poorly organized kiss.

He's still Edgeworth, noted one part of his mind absently.

Probably kisses a lot better than I do, chided another.

Did I just... screamed the remainder, before resetting. Oh God, did I...

Oh God.

Phoenix hastily released Edgeworth and pulled away, cradling his head in his hands. Edgeworth remained motionless, studying Phoenix carefully instead, although after a moment he absently raised a hand to the side of his mouth and wiped away the wetness there. After a small eternity of nothing but their breaths punctuating the silence, Phoenix dropped his hands and spoke, somewhat shakily. "You once said to me – it was just before your – before I defended you last year...I'm not sure I really got it, but you said, 'Thanks to you, I am saddled with unnecessary...feelings.' " Phoenix breathed in. Breathed out. Closed his eyes. "Well...right back at you, Edgeworth."

Phoenix fell silent, opening his eyes again only to stare at the floor and await Edgeworth's rebuttal. Before the latter could formulate an appropriate reply, Phoenix's cell phone rang. Startled, he pulled it out and promptly swore when he saw the time. "Just a second," he muttered to Edgeworth, "if I don't take this I really will be Asshole of the Year instead of just in the running for it." After a very loud and very one-sided 'conversation', Phoenix managed to explain that no, he hadn't been assassinated; no, he hadn't been abducted, either, well, not really; and no, honest, he didn't mean anything by the "not really" part. Eventually he convinced Maya that she should go back to the law offices herself and he'd see her off in the morning. He gave a sidelong glance in Edgeworth's direction when he mentioned that the two attorneys were "just, uh, out, catching up on old times," but the prosecutor showed no reaction.

When Phoenix finally ended the call, however, Edgeworth did peer at him from the corner of his eyes. "So when's the wedding?" he asked nonchalantly, busying himself again with the tea that had since gone cold. "I hear little Pearl has the honeymoon plans all set..."

"God, Miles, not you too," Phoenix groaned, shaking his head; he missed Edgeworth's momentary smirk at the use of his first name. Suppressing any further reaction, Edgeworth quickly returned, "At least she's legal now," which earned him a particularly pointed glare from Phoenix. Don't go there, Edgeworth, he silently willed. Not now.

Edgeworth's countenance fell somber again. "Wright," he ventured, "since you seem to have such a good memory for my words, might you also remember something I said to you when you first saw me again?"

Phoenix finally looked up at that, considering. "Over at Criminal Affairs? Hmm." A pause. "You mean about Celeste Inpax?"

Edgeworth rolled his eyes. "Before that. If you ever feel..."

Phoenix mulled that over, replaying their first meeting after so long in his mind. "Oh," he exclaimed finally, blushing hotly. "I, uh...yeah, I remember."

"And?" prompted Edgeworth. "Do you?"

Phoenix looked at Edgeworth, really looked at him this time, wondering exactly how far he could safely extend his trust for the man before him. He found only Edgeworth staring back at him, silvery gaze reflecting a recent maturity that was unnerving and yet somehow reassuring all the same. "Yes," he answered softly, and this time when he tilted his head forward, Edgeworth was there to meet him halfway.

fin

Notes: Written for "kinami" (nekomyka on LJ) as part of the LJ Yaoi Challenge community's Obscure Fandom Challenge. The story was mostly handwritten on a Boeing 757 en route from LAX, and I wanted to include the details about the city that were still fresh in my mind.