The MASON System:
A Fragmented Timeline of Phoenix Wright and Miles Edgeworth
Present: 2018 AD
#18 – attention
Edgeworth has often tried keeping his eyes trained intently on the back of that spiky-haired head, half-hoping the idiot will feel the intensity of his gaze and turn around—but he never does, just blithely goes on arranging his briefcase.
#34 – sing
He is about to knock on Edgeworth's door when he hears a familiar voice from inside bellowing, "Samurai, fight, fight!" with great gusto—grinning, he lowers his fist, thinking he'll stand there a little while longer.
#1 – motion
There was this one trial when Wright wagged his finger at the witness, and Edgeworth had to grind his teeth to stop himself from raising an objection and accusing him of stealing his move.
#16 – need
Edgeworth realizes that he and Wright have been through a lot together, but he somehow still feels that that doesn't grant him license to climb through his window...in his pajamas...at three-o'clock in the morning (and how did he even get up there, anyway?).
#14 – command
"Sit!" says Edgeworth sternly, pointing his finger, and secretly he finds it amusing that the one who instantly obeys him is Wright, not Pess.
#9 – king
"So you're the King of Prosecutors now, huh?" Phoenix grins—"Who's your queen then?"—and for once, Edgeworth actually can't think of a comeback.
Past: 2001 AD
#25 – shadow
Ever since the class trial, he's been following Miles around like a little puppy—he even has the sparkling gratitude-filled eyes, for Pete's sake.
#4 – last
There is an odd number of students in the class, and for some reason, Miles is always the only one left who has yet to pick a partner—he always ends up grudgingly nodding at Phoenix, because unfortunately, the only other option is Larry.
#40 – history
"Can anyone name one of the founding fathers of our country?" the teacher asks, and Phoenix isn't the only one who jumps when Miles whips his hand into the air and yells, with utmost conviction, "GREGORY EDGEWORTH!"
#39 – torn
The stupid piece of paper has ripped and doesn't want to fold right, and Miles is ready to throw the thing down and renounce origami forever—but then a second set of fingers closes around the fragile little bird, and smooths away the wrinkles, and a cheerful voice announces in his ear, "It isn't ruined; just be patient and help put it back together, and it'll be beautiful again."
#2 – cool
The weather is already changing, and the air has become icy and sharp around the edges—and as they walk home together, laughing, their sneakers crunch through the crisp leaves, and the rest of the world falls away.
#48 – precious
Phoenix sometimes catches Miles humming on his way to the cubbyholes—once, he asks what it is, and with a smile he replies, "Eine Kleine Nachtmusik—it's Father's favorite song."
Present: 2018 AD
#49 – hunger
"You haven't eaten anything, have you?" Phoenix says accusingly—"I'll go make you something—" and as he troops off to the kitchen, Edgeworth closes his eyes and prays fervently that he won't set anything on fire—or more importantly, that he won't find the limited edition Samurai Spatula that he keeps in the drawer to the left.
#23 – child
"I swear, Wright," he sighs, looking away pointedly, "you're so dense that I sometimes wonder how you graduated elementary school, let alone law school."
#22 – mad
He can tell all too well that Edgeworth is angry; all the signs are there—the deep breathing; the clenching of his fists; the soft, calculated singing of the Steel Samurai theme song under his breath.
#15 – hold
One time, he was having a conversation with Wright on the phone, when an important call had come in on the other line—he'd taken it, and it had gone on for more than an hour so that he'd forgotten all about Wright—but when he'd said goodbye and switched back, Edgeworth was surprised to hear his quiet, patient breathing still on the other end.
#30 – ghost
He doesn't know if Maya's spirit medium stuff is rubbing off on him, but some days in court, he swears he can see someone else standing behind the prosecutor's bench, putting a hand on Edgeworth's shoulder.
#27 – hide
"Edgeworth, it's okay—it's stopped," says Phoenix softly, crouching down to duck under the table and stretching out his hand.
Future: 2026 AD
#17 – vision
Phoenix peers into the bathroom mirror and feels the stubble on his chin, and suddenly he starts to laugh because he can imagine all too clearly a horrified Edgeworth storming over there with shaving cream and a razor in his hand.
#10 – learn
The first few months at the Borscht Bowl Club were the hardest—he wasn't used to this new nocturnal schedule, and it was difficult for Trucy as well—but still he persisted, telling himself that he couldn't quit until he had mastered that one song.
#38 – wash
Trucy must have accidentally put one of her dresses in the machine with his clothes again; but he doesn't mind this time, because now three of his white shirts are colored a very familiar shade of magenta.
#8 – thousand
He frowns, his forehead creasing as he does so, and he passes a hand over his face, feeling the lines that sorrow and anger and regret have left behind.
#19 – soul
Sometimes he has nightmares, ones where he is completely alone and lost in the dark—and the worst part of those is waking up, because that's when he realizes that the nightmares are real.
Present: 2018 AD
#42 – bother
Even though they're headed for the eleventh floor, Phoenix smiles reassuringly at him and says it's no trouble at all if they take the stairs.
#46 – drive
He is more than perplexed when Edgeworth barges in and announces feverishly, "Wright, we're going out. I need to get away with someone sane—" and then Phoenix grins knowingly and replies, "Gumshoe's been assigned to you again, I assume?"
#31 – book
Phoenix doesn't know if he should be touched or offended, because for his birthday Edgeworth has given him a brand-new copy of Law for Dummies.
#45 – naked
It takes just one bright, trusting look from him for Edgeworth to feel uncovered, vulnerable—stripped down to his very soul.
#41 – power
They are strolling down the sidewalk when a small boy passes by them, chirping to his mother about how the Steel Samurai had used his Samurai Kick on the bad guy last night—and Phoenix is startled when Edgeworth stops, turns around, walks over to the boy and taps him on the shoulder, politely correcting him and informing him that it had been, in fact, the Tsunami Kick.
#51 – scarf
Edgeworth is suspicious of the box at first, and mentally chides himself for not checking up on Oldbag's restraining order again—but his frown slowly softens into what might be a smile, as he opens the card and reads: Cravats don't keep you warm in the winter, so could you take yours off for once and wear this instead?
#28 – fortune
"You should thank your lucky stars you're alive, Wright," Edgeworth says through clenched teeth as he takes a seat beside the hospital bed; smiling weakly, Phoenix presses his badge into Edgeworth's hand and croaks, "That's not the only thing I'm thanking them for."
Past: 2001 AD
#35 – sudden
That morning, Phoenix walks into the classroom, and there is one less desk than there used to be, and all he can do is stand there thinking numbly, but he didn't even say goodbye.
#26 – goodbye
And as the plane takes off, and the voice comes over the speakers telling them in both English and German to enjoy their flight—a little boy, dressed in black, grips the armrests and sends out a silent farewell that he hopes he will hear, even from a world away.
Present: 2018 AD
#3 – young
"Hey, Edgeworth, remember when we were kids? You were still so innocent and carefree then, remember?" Phoenix says lightly, nudging Edgeworth with his elbow—and he laughs when, as expected, the reply he receives is a firm, flat—"NO."
#6 – gentle
Edgeworth waves briefly and picks up his case, turning to leave; but he is impeded by Wright, who for some strange reason moves in and gives him a hug—it's a manly hug, Edgeworth keeps telling himself as he tries to wriggle out of it—but it's a very tender manly hug, all the same.
#43 – God
"I know you're not really a spiritual man, Edgeworth, but you must believe in something," reasons out Phoenix—and Edgeworth falls into a pensive silence before grumbling, as if embarrassed, "Well, I believe in you, don't I?"
#21 – fool
Von Karma had always told him, carpe diem, never look back, grab everything that is within your reach—but he must not have learned his lesson too well, because he did look back, and he spent far too much time reaching for something that wasn't even there.
#32 – eye
He can't explain it, but every time their gazes connect across the courtroom, that pure, clear blue awakens something inside him and he feels as though he is falling through space all over again.
#11 – blur
It's all over the news—the sudden disappearance, the "suicide note," the difficult trial—but Phoenix is barely listening because all he is thinking is, this has happened before.
Past: 2015 AD
#33 – never
He remembers that essay he had been assigned to write in college back in Germany—the prompt had been "your best friend," and he had begun with the full intention of explaining that he had never had one—but then he recalled a little boy with messy hair and bright eyes, and he put down the pen because all the words had suddenly left him.
#5 – wrong
He wonders if he's making the right choice, wonders if he's even cut out to be a lawyer—but then he remembers a little boy with light hair and sad gray eyes, and his hand is steady as he signs his name and closes the folder labeled "Application: 2015 Attorney's Bar Exam."
Future: 2026 AD
#29 – safe
He looks out the plane window into the night and sees the lights of the city, rising up beneath him—and as they land, for the first time in eight years, a single word passes through his mind—home.
#36 – stop
After making sure Trucy is sleeping soundly, he shuffles into the kitchen for a bottle of grape juice, and he is about to take a sip when a hesitant knock sounds at the door.
#37 – time
Edgeworth reaches out to fling the Wright Anything Agency door open, but then he stops—he is suddenly afraid because he doesn't want to see how the office has changed, doesn't want to admit to himself that he let the years slip between the two of them.
#7 – one
Maybe Phoenix fell asleep and just didn't realize it, or maybe he had a little too much borscht earlier, or maybe the shadows are playing games with him tonight—because there is no way that he can be standing there with his hand on the doorknob, no way that he is hearing his own name being whispered, like a prayer, "...Wright?"
#47 – harm
"I watched you on the news," Wright says, smiling wistfully as he slides the teacup and saucer across the table, "you made quite the waves in Germany—" and Edgeworth, taking the warm cup slowly, can't help but feel a bitter pang as he thinks what he can't say—I watched you on the news, too, but it was for all the wrong reasons.
#13 – change
"So you wear glasses now, huh, Edgeworth?" asks Phoenix, tilting his head to the side and grinning; Edgeworth adjusts them self-consciously and answers as politely as he can muster, "Yes, and you wear a—a—I'm sorry, Wright, but what is that thing you have on your head?"
#20 – picture
"An adopted daughter...I see," Edgeworth says, pausing to put down the frame, trying to wrap his head around the idea of Wright being solely responsible for the welfare of an actual child—and suddenly he remembers all the thoughtfulness, all the kind words, the firm, unshakeable declarations of "I believe in you!"—and his mouth turns upwards as he murmurs, "Yes, I'm sure you're a wonderful father."
#44 – wall
"I was just wondering...why you didn't call or write," says Phoenix quietly, "after...you know—" and Edgeworth goes through all the excuses in his head, tearing them down one by one until he is left with the terrible, searing truth—I didn't know what to say.
#12 – wait
Lights go out on the streets below, sounds are drowned by the suspended silence of after-midnight, and the clock runs through number after number without stopping—and still they sit there, sometimes talking animatedly, sometimes saying nothing at all; but both sharing the same thought—this was worth the wait.
#50 – believe
Phoenix seats himself carefully at the piano, saying hesitantly, "I'm still not very good, even though it took me almost eight years to learn it—" but as he places his hands upon the keys and draws the chords of the song out from within, Edgeworth closes his eyes, listens to the first strains of his father's favorite song, and knows that there are miracles, still.
Present: 2018 AD
#24 – now
And though some small part of him knows, deep down where his nightmares live, that this happiness can't last forever—he is thankful that they are together today, and probably will be tomorrow—and for the time being, that's enough for him.
For tantei39kunoichi! She went on a retreat earlier this year, so I included this along with the letter I wrote for her. Hee.
[theme set Epsilon from the 1sentence community on LJ]
~boswell