A/N: Real quick, I just want to note that at the time of this writing I had not played Gyakuten Saiban 4. This was actually written for the kink meme, and the requestor asked for hobo!Phoenix, but I really didn't want to spoil myself just to write fic. I probably shouldn't have written it, in that case, but I really like this idea (I've actually toyed around with doing it with Jake and Neil Marshall before). And... I know where there's hobo!Phoenix (especially where there's hobo!Phoenix playing poker), there should be Trucy, but at the time I didn't know anything about her personality, so I left her out. So I guess consider this slightly AU?

ANYWAY, without further ado, here is your Christmas present, Anon. Enjoy.

I totally had "Mi Mancherai" ("I Miss You") by Josh Groban on repeat while writing this.

--

Phoenix was home alone, watching The World Series of Poker and sketching the faces of participants when he heard someone knock on the door. It wasn't often people knocked on his door, so the sound came as something of a surprise. After all, ever since... The Incident... Phoenix had a lot less of the general public specifically seeking him out.

Probably someone trying to sell him magazines or get him to sign a petition. He sighed, getting to his feet, dusting the crumbs off his black sweatpants and tugging on his t-shirt as he hobbled to the door.

"Hang on, I'm coming!" he called. He undid the deadbolt and lock, and, without checking the peephole first, opened the door.

And Miles Edgeworth was standing on his stoop, in a full suit (not that that was a surprise), giving Phoenix the most wistful look Phoenix had ever seen.

"...Edgeworth." Phoenix blinked in surprise. "When did you get back?" he asked. "I had no idea." Edgeworth did this pretty often, though. Not telling anyone was coming back, just showing his face around when he was ready for everyone to know.

...Phoenix wondered if he had heard the news. Probably from Detective Gumshoe. He shifted uncomfortably.

And Edgeworth only watched him. He knew Phoenix didn't realize that he was... dead yet. The news hadn't yet had a chance to spread to the... former defense attorney. But to hear Phoenix treating him as if he was still alive, as if he was really there, in the flesh, standing on his front stoop... it was...

He hadn't expected Phoenix to answer the door at all. Had he really heard the knock...? How was that even possible?

But the familiar beat of Phoenix's greeting (despite the unfamiliar sight of his appearance -- he'd really let himself go -- and despite the fact that Edgeworth had been gone for quite some time) coaxed him in. And... Edgeworth couldn't help but fall into the act.

And he had always thought Phoenix had been the actor.

"...Of course not. I've just returned." A pause. "Can I come in?"

Phoenix glanced behind him. His apartment was... a mess.

"Sure." He smiled. "C'mon in."

Edgeworth stepped inside, removing his shoes in the entryway.

"I was just... watching some TV."

"I suppose you must do a lot of that, now that you're out of work."

Phoenix froze for a moment. Edgeworth watched him carefully. One of them had to bring it up eventually. He may as well let Phoenix know that he already knew.

"...Guess you heard, huh," Phoenix answered, finally.

"Yes." Edgeworth crossed the room, seating himself on Phoenix's couch. Phoenix joined him.

"How was your trip?" Phoenix asked, quietly. It was clear he wanted to change the subject. Edgeworth shifted.

"I've had better."

But Phoenix knew enough about Edgeworth to know that answer meant something terrible had happened. Perhaps an Earthquake, or... a bad case, or something of that nature.

"...Are you alright?" he asked.

Edgeworth glanced towards Phoenix quietly. He remembered only too well the piercing of the bullet in his chest -- watching the dark, thick blood splurting from the wound. He remembered thinking it was what his father must have seen in his last moments, too, before he'd passed out.

When he'd woken, he was watching his own body in a hospital as the doctor announced the time of death.

6:32 P.M.

"I'm fine," he answered, finally -- but it sounded choked. Phoenix wasn't buying it -- and he wasn't averse to saying so.

"You're full of shit," he pointed out. Edgeworth rose an eyebrow swiftly at that comment. "But... that's okay. You can tell me when you're ready... alright?"

Phoenix made dinner that night, but Miles hadn't been able to eat. He told Phoenix he wasn't feeling hungry, but in reality, he wasn't certain he'd be capable of eating. It wasn't as if he was really there.

"I know this is sudden, but do you mind if I stay here tonight?" Edgeworth asked quietly, just as Phoenix finished his plate. Phoenix glanced up in surprise.

"Stay here?" he repeated. Edgeworth had never stayed in Phoenix's apartment. He could only imagine it was because Phoenix's place wasn't exactly... nice. Certainly not what Edgeworth was used to, or even anything close up to par with the standard to which he held himself.

"Yes... please." Edgeworth didn't offer an explanation. He couldn't think of one. And, really, why should he? Considering Phoenix wasn't asking for one.

"Sure. Of course." He paused. "There's... only one bed."

Edgeworth smirked. "And why would this bother me?"

As Phoenix slept that night, Edgeworth watched him, quietly, tears filling his eyes. He didn't spill them -- only sat there, letting them fill his eyes, blurring his vision.

He'd wanted this to be the last thing he'd seen, when he was to die. Instead, he had been thousands of miles away, alone.

He'd gone to watch Phoenix's "performances" at the restaurant he worked at before he'd gotten up the courage to knock at the door. It had been a move for nostalgic purposes only -- he'd wanted to stand at Phoenix's door for one last time. None of... what had happened after had been in his plans. The man looked happy when he'd seen him -- pounding away at the piano and kicking ass at poker. And while it was clear that Phoenix had changed since he'd last seen him, it was also clear that Edgeworth needed to be with him -- no matter how different he may be.

Early that morning, a knock came at the door. Phoenix woke quickly, sitting up in bed. Edgeworth had his back to him, and Phoenix figured he was probably asleep.

"I'm a popular man these last few days," he mused aloud. He pulled on his clothes, almost tripping over his pants as he hopped into them towards the door.

He opened it when he finally got situated.

"Detective Gumshoe..." he murmured in surprise. The man looked like a wreck. His face was pink and splotchy, and his eyes were red and watery. His hair was a tossled mess of spikes. Phoenix... knew the feeling. "What's up?"

"Mister-- Mister Edgeworth... I thought I would... come and tell you myself, pal..."

Phoenix just stared at him. "Whoa, slow down, Gumshoe," he said, lowering his voice. Could Gumshoe have the answer to what had been plaging Edgeworth the night before? "Tell me what happened."

"He... the report just came in, pal... he was... he was shot in Germany..."

Phoenix's mind was racing. How was that possible? He hadn't seen any bulletmarks on Edgeworth's body at all...

"Shot?" he repeated, blankly.

"They... they took him to the hospital... they tried everything they could, pal, but he... he..." Gumshoe was having trouble getting to the end of this sentence. Phoenix thought he knew the ending, but... how was that possible?

Edgeworth shoes were right there, right in Gumshoe's plain sight. How could he not recognize him? Hadn't Gumshoe shined those shoes plenty of times in his career?

"He's dead, Mr. Wright."

Phoenix heard the words, but they felt cold and hollow.

"...I see," he said, quietly, after what felt like an eternity. He wanted to tell Gumshoe it wasn't true -- that he had a contradiction, damnit, to "hold it!", but Gumshoe was lying and damnit, he could prove it -- but what if his evidence was faulty this time, too?

Tears were coming to his eyes in seconds. He only barely managed to get out, "I need to go," before shutting the door in Gumshoe's face and slumping against the door.

He was afraid to go back to the bedroom. Would Edgeworth even be there? His shoes still were...

Slowly, Phoenix moved down the hall. Each step he took was heavier than the last. When he got there, Edgeworth was standing in the doorway of the bedroom, the sheet wrapped around him.

Phoenix stood there, staring at him.

"So that's what happened," he said, choking. "That's... that's what you were so upset about." He shook his head, his eyes filling up with tears. "Edgeworth, you..."

"...I'm sorry I can't stay, Wright," Edgeworth said, quietly. "I... I shouldn't bother you any longer." Gumshoe had always had a certain 'diarreha of the mouth'. How fitting that he should out Edgeworth for this now.

"No! You... you can! You can stay here. Please, Edgeworth you can..." But when Phoenix went to hug him, there was an oddly warm sensation between them...

And when Phoenix pulled away, blood soaked the white sheet through, soaking into Phoenix's t-shirt. Miles looked down, frowning, and let the sheet slowly fall away from his chest.

The bullet wound was very evident against his pale skin. Phoenix's sobs became loud and uncontrollable.

Edgeworth smiled up at him, sadly.

"I... am not meant to stay, Wright," he said, quietly. "And I'm... I'm sorry."

"Edgeworth, oh god, tell me this isn't real--"

"...I can't tell you a lie."

"Edgeworth, please, I love you, you can't die, you can't--"

"Wright." Edgeworth reached out, his hand falling heavy on Phoenix's shoulder. "I'm already dead."

Slowly, the weight of his hand lessened and lessened. Edgeworth's appearance in front of Phoenix faded -- as did the blood on the sheet and t-shirt. Phoenix was crying so hard he almost couldn't see anything at all.

"I love you, too." It was the last thing Phoenix heard before every trace of Edgeworth was gone -- forever.