A/n: Finally i am happy enough with the characterisation in one of my PW fanfics to start putting them up! Huzzah! Hopefully this will be enjoyable for people to read, i've personally read over it a great many times, so i'll flip out if someone actually finds spelling errors or typos in it, i will be very surprised. This story will eventually progress into some slash romance, so be pre-warned if you don't like that sort of thing. Otherwise, enjoy!
I've added in this prologue after only submitting chapter 1 initially, because my friend who reads over these for me suggested I might do better writing a less abrupt introduction. So i did! Sorry for any confusion that I might have caused in doing this!
The view was splendid from the balcony of Edgeworth's seventh story hotel room. It was a very different skyline from his apartment back in Los Angeles, no sky-scrapers or smog, and no road noise. Instead he had the steep slopes of some European mountain and an otherwise endless sea of greenery accompanied by nothing but the sound of twittering birds. The Prosecutor spent a lot of time here in Europe, more so in recent years. Over the last two years he'd lived here longer then he had back in America. He was sitting on his balcony, lips sipping at the rim of his early morning tea as his eyes perused an American newspaper with almost lazy interest. He flicked over the stories about competition winners and environmental causes to get straight to the part that most would normally skip. There'd been another murder in his district, and it seemed the case was being handled by a new young hotshot whose name he'd been seeing a lot more recently, some Klavier Gavin. He was about to close the paper, not particularly interested in Winston Payne's latest screw up, when another name in a headline on the opposite page captured his attention. His tea-cup remained poised at his lips as his eyes quickly flashed across the article.
Phoenix Wright had won another case.
'Does he ever lose anymore?' Miles thought, neither bitterly nor surprised. Phoenix Wright was somewhat of a prolific attorney, whenever he stepped into the courtroom regular court proceedings went out the window. He was not, however, a hard worker, and so his cases were actually few and far between.
'That will be because of how thoroughly he investigates his clients before even accepting their contracts,' Miles thought, smirking slightly. Phoenix never did like defending people who were actually guilty.
Now Miles' tea-cup dropped to sit upon the table top, the newspaper quickly joining it. The Prosecutor's silver eyes turned almost wistfully out to the sprawling European landscape and he found himself almost wishing it was skyscrapers he was seeing instead.
'It's been nearly a year since I went home last…' he mused absently, his thoughts only really half focused on the here and now. 'I wonder how much has changed? I wonder if Wright has—'
"Blast it," he snapped aloud. The very reason he'd come to Europe was to try and rid himself of this thought process. It was always the same, always about that name and that spikey head always blocking his view across the court-room. Miles had never truly cared much for Europe, the people or their law, despite that being the ruse under which he travelled. European law was progressive yes, and he respected their willingness to accept new theories in judgment and law practice, but it made things hopelessly rabbit-holed. He used the time away to wrap his head around even more complicated conundrums that had dug themselves up over the years, dilemmas that had begun to confuse him endlessly. He was here so that he didn't have to face Wright in particular. He'd begun coming to terms with his relationship with the attorney, realising just how much that pain of a Defense Attorney meant to him. The problem was in his adequacy to maintain a place of friendship with Wright; it was far easier he found, to remain detached and corrosive. He wanted to correct these faults in his character before he faced him again, so that he might be as good a friend to Phoenix as he was to him.
'Not just yet,' he told himself, picking his tea-cup up again to finish the contents before the chilly mountain air sent it stone cold. 'There's still a few things to work out first.'