Wow, my longest fic so far. And surprise surprise, its a Nick X Edgey fic. XD I've said it before, and I'll say it again. I'm not a huge fan of this pairing. Kind of hard to believe since half of my fics have been about them, but I think its just cuz they're fairly easy to write. I promise I've got some other fic ideas with some of my more favored pairings in them, in the meantime, please bear with the boy-boy luff (though I might add, this story is definitely up for interpretation about any sort of "romance"). xD
Phoenix Wright and Co. belong to Capcom, I simply borrowed them. XP
"And that's why, Your Honor, my client could not have possibly been near the scene of the crime at that time!" I exclaimed, finger outstretched towards the prosecutor on the other side of the courtroom. Edgeworth was indeed looking a bit distraught. After all, I had just picked apart yet another of his "flawless" testimonies. The judge banged his gavel.
"I'm afraid I have to agree with the defense's argument. But that begs the question; who killed the victim, if it indeed wasn't the defendant. I would ask that the prosecution and defense take a day to uncover the truth in this matter," the Judge declared, stroking his beard absentmindedly.
"Y-yes, your honor," I heard Edgeworth mutter contemptuously from his bench.
"Yes, your honor," I repeated in kind.
I felt a tap on my shoulder. "Alright Nick! You did it!" Maya said in ringing tones.
"Yeah…though somehow it always seems more like luck than me doing anything spectacular," I answered as we exited the courtroom to the lobby.
"Nick, I'm going to go talk to our client," Maya said before bounding off. As I was about to walk off, I was accosted by a certain prosecuting attorney.
"Wright, how dare you insult my intelligence by suggesting I planted ideas in that witness' head," a voice demanded. Edgeworth, of course. His cravat was just as frilly as ever, though today it looked as though he might like to rip the thing from his neck.
"Edgeworth, calm down…I didn't even say anything like that!" I reacted defensively.
"Don't give me that drivel! You didn't have to say anything, but as soon as you start waving that fat finger of yours and shouting 'hold it!' and 'objection,' you make it seem as though all my perfectly good witnesses are bigger fools than you." Edgeworth was clearly worked up today.
"Hey, don't blame me that your 'witnesses' usually turn out to be criminals," I retorted perhaps a bit too snidely. His eyes flared up.
"My life was so much less complicated before you had to come barging in on it. For God's sake Wright, why on earth did you have to become a defense attorney of all things?" he ranted. "I'd have liked nothing better than to live out my days happily putting criminals behind bars, but you had to fall out of the sky of years past and undermine the very thing that makes me who I am. You know I've tried very hard to forget my past…and that includes you." I was too taken aback to reply. He gave me one last piercing glare before turning on his heel. He had one last word for me however, as he stalked away.
"Wright, if you dare to affront my worth as a lawyer in court tomorrow, I will crush you."
I stood there, staring at where he had been just moments ago. Was this really how Edgeworth felt? He'd rather that we never met again at all? He would really just like to forget about me? Sure, I understood that Edgeworth had had more than his share of childhood trauma that he'd like to bury away, but I'd thought the three of us – Larry, Edgeworth, and I – had been good friends. Why would he want to forget that?
"Nick…hey Nick!!!" Maya's voice recalled me to the present.
"Huh…? What?" I answered.
"Was that Mr. Edgeworth just now? He looked scary mad about something. You didn't do anything, did you Nick? Hey Nick, pay attention!" She shook me by the shoulders.
"Oh…I'm sorry Maya, I was thinking about something."
"Sorry's not going to cut it this time, Nick, I'll only forgive you if you take me out for burgers. Lets go!"
I let her lead me out of the courtroom. I had hoped Maya's antics would keep my mind from wandering to uncomfortable thoughts, but even her cheeriness couldn't keep them at bay.
Why had I become a defense attorney, after all? I had tried to reason that it was to defend and uphold truth and justice and fairness, but...wasn't it really because of him? Wasn't it because I had wanted to see Edgeworth again, to know why he had become this ruthless shadow of the boy I had known? Yes, at the core of it all, this was why I had done it…and Edgeworth had basically told me I was a fool for that. Did that mean I had become an attorney for nothing…?
It had been a long, long day of wandering around town with Maya, desperately digging for potential case-breaking clues. I threw my jacket and briefcase on the couch in the living room of my apartment. There had been something nagging at me since I had left court, something I had to do.
I went straight for the bedroom closet and rummaged through some boxes until I found the one labeled "College Stuff." When I opened it, the first thing to pop out was this garish pink sweater with an obnoxious heart and the letter P emblazoned across the chest. Setting that aside, wondering why I'd ever stopped wearing such a great sweater, I found what I was looking for.
My old paint supplies from art school were still in pretty good condition. After all, I hadn't used them much after I transferred to the law department. I put on some old paint-splattered jeans and a t-shirt and laid some newspaper on the floor back in the living room.
This is what I had wanted to do before I became a lawyer. I had loved art. Maybe I wasn't a Monet or Van Gogh, but it was really the only thing I had been even a little bit good at all through school. As I set one of my leftover canvases up on the easel, I wondered what my life would have been like if I had stayed an art student. Life definitely would have been simpler.
I wasn't even sure what I was doing at first. My mind and body seemed to move on its own accord, instinctively choosing and mixing colors, reflexes responding with strokes in all the right places. About halfway through I finally began to realize what had happened. Somehow that magenta-clad, frill-framed prosecutor, who had spawned this desire to paint, had invaded my subconscious and forced out his own likeness onto the canvas. I half wanted to stop, to not finish it, to just splash some black paint across the whole thing and bury my art supplies in the closet and forget about them again for another few years. But somehow I kept seeing his face; I kept seeing exactly how he should be painted. And so I continued.
It was late when I was finally done. I had worked in a frenzy. I could hardly believe I'd finished an entire portrait in just a night. It wasn't the Mona Lisa…but somehow I believed I'd never painted anything better. In spite of this, however, I had no desire to keep it. I could just imagine his derisive eyes following me around the apartment, or terrifying potential clients in the office…
For a second I was entertained with the idea of giving it to Edgeworth himself, but this was precluded by a knock on the door. As I opened it, the gruff shadow of a man greeted me.
"'Evening, pal!" said the amicable but downtrodden Detective Gumshoe. "I just dropped by to share some of the evidence we…hey!" he was interrupted mid-sentence as his eyes found the painting. Oh great…how should I explain this? I thought.
"Oh, Detective Gumshoe, I was just…" I started, but there was no need. The good Detective seemed not to care.
"This is really good, pal! I didn't know you were an artist. Were you going to give this to Mr. Edgeworth?"
Hah, right. "Ahh, no Detective, I don't know what I'm going to do with it, actually. You see I painted it without really thinking and now I just don't…" I trailed off hopelessly. There really wasn't any sort of sane explanation. Luckily, this was Gumshoe I was talking to.
"Hey pal, do you mind if I take this? I've always wanted a portrait of Mr. Edgeworth!" the doglike sleuth said with that half smile of his.
"Oh. Oh! That's a great idea, Detective, sure. You can have it," I sighed. This was good. I didn't have to worry about having the thing hanging around anywhere, and at least I could be pretty sure that no one of importance would ever see it hanging in whatever sort of burrow Gumshoe called home. I felt considerably lighter.
"Now Detective, you said something about evidence…?"
I don't know why I decided to go to the prosecutor's office before the start of the trial the next day. I guess maybe I just wanted to talk to Edgeworth about what he had said, little good though I knew would come of it. But, I'm not one to let things like that go. I guess that part of me is why I was in this whole mess with Edgeworth. If I had just let it go…I mean, it was so long ago, we were only kids.
Sigh. Edgeworth will probably just make some snappy retorts and then shoo me away, I thought. But…he had to know. I had figured it out after Gumshoe had left the other night. Even if my reasons for becoming a defense attorney were ridiculously shallow, I didn't regret it for a minute. I am happy, in my element when I'm fighting courtroom battles. And, on top of it all, I was glad to have met Edgeworth again, after all those years. And he was going to hear me out even if it killed us both.
The doors of the elevator down in the prosecutor's parking garage opened, and I was greeted with a familiar face.
"Oh, good morning, Detective Gumshoe," I said as the scruffy man exited. He was looking rather down and out…not that this was anything new.
"Hey pal," he looked somewhat embarrassed. "Listen…do you think you could paint me another Mr. Edgeworth?"
I started. "W-why? What happened the other one?" I was almost afraid hear.
"Well, I wanted to show it to Mr. Edgeworth, just so he could appreciate how nice it was." My stomach dropped. "But, he got this weird look in his eye, snatched it right from me and chased me out of this office. So it would be real nice if you could…hey, pal, where are you going?" But I had already charged into the elevator and slammed the button for Edgeworth's floor.
Damn it. The one person I didn't want to see it…I probably should have known better than to give it to that bumbling Gumshoe. But what was I going to tell Edgeworth? What could I possibly say that would adequately explain that I wasn't crazy?
"Edgeworth, I can explain!" I gasped as I burst into his office. But he wasn't there. I looked around the pristine office. But something wasn't quite the same today. The framed suit Edgeworth normally kept hanging over his couch was now leaning against the wall off to the side, and hanging in its place was the portrait I had painted, framed in beautiful mahogany. I stared a bit dumbfounded at this new development, when a light cough from behind me gave me a start.
"Do you mind, Wright, I can't get into my office with you standing in the doorway like that," he spoke smoothly. If he cared that I had seen the portrait hanging there, he made no indication. I stepped into the office and Edgeworth followed me in.
"I've been doing some redecorating. What do you think?" he asked. If there was any of sarcasm or scorn in his words I might only have imagined it.
"I – I…" I stammered. I wasn't sure what to say to this. What was I supposed to think of him hanging that wretched painting in his office?
"Oh really, that's very interesting. You know, I'm surprised you can pull yourself together at all in court, your command of the English language being what it is." This time, a smirk played over his face.
"Edgeworth…why…?" I still was not in command of my voice, apparently.
"Wright, I was hoping that even you weren't dimwitted enough to take what I said yesterday seriously. I would think you'd know by now that our exchanges of banter were merely born from our courtroom rivalry. Nothing more than that, you understand?" He had a "and that's the end of that discussion" look on his face, so I didn't press the issue.
I finally stopped trying to understand what had just happened, and instead managed a smile that I imagined was a bit strained. "I'll see you in court, Edgeworth."
"See you in court, Wright."