Note : This chapter won't go into as much detail as the rest, since I want it to be mostly a light-hearted one. So in a way, it is an intermission from the story of sorts. Warning if you hate dialog though : Contains heavy dialog.
Note 2 : Yes, this chapter is crap. Kinda having a little writer's block. I promise the next chapter - the final chapter, will be more sputzah. Glittery. Bling bling. You get what I mean yes? One more chapter to go, you won't have to bear with me much longer.
Note 3: Grammar mistakes. But I'm not really sure what the correct one is, so grit your teeth and ignore it.
Lesson Seven : Intermission ; and tea time.
Gumshoe had been in a panic all day long. The first thing in the morning to greet him was an alarm clock - long since without batteries, yet somehow this eluded Gumshoe – that told him it was three minutes before seven. Thinking he had all the time in the world, he had proceeded to give himself a leisurely pace as he awaits his instant noodles to cook into completion. When it was cooked and consumed, he deemed it satisfying - "Nothing beats instant ramen, pal!" - and he took a peek at the clock.
Three minutes before seven. He had all the time in the world. He turned on the television to watch some Nickel Samurai - now sporting a brand new actor as Nickel Samurai - Juan Corrida's cousin.
Half an hour later, his phone rang. He took it up and hit the ignore button accidentally. "Hello? Hello?" he yelled, then blinked at it when no one responded. "Dang, must be a prank call."
Five minutes later, the department chief called again. " Where the HECK are you Gumshoe?"
"Watching the television, sir!"
"And WHY are you watching television, may I know? It's already 20 minutes pass eight, and if you don't appear in front of me within the next ten minutes, I'm going to cut your salary by half, Gumshoe!"
It was a twenty-minute walk between his closet-sized apartment and the department headquarters, so naturally, he was late, and his salary got cut into half.
Huffing and puffing when he arrived there, he went even redder in the face as he realized that the mountain of folders he had originally assumed were some file cleaning remains were actually for him to settle, and it piled all the way up up up, until it was higher than Gumshoe.
He sighed. This was not a good day. At ten there was a meeting between the department heads, and Gumshoe got security duty, as usual, standing in front of the door of the meeting room to make sure no one eavesdropped while desperately trying to wish some of the paperwork away.
At ten-thirty, he spilled coffee on Mr. Edgeworth's paperwork.
Five minutes later, his donuts got stolen.
Then, at one thirty, a call came. He nearly moaned in apprehension. Not more paperwork again! He checked the caller's ID : Mr. Edgeworth, and nearly broke a thumb getting it through fast enough.
"Yes, detective Gumshoe speaking, sir!"
"Gumshoe! Get your butt over here now!"
"Butz, sir? Okay, I'll nab him for you!"
"NONO, LOOK, just...Just get over here okay? I'm near Lordly Tailor – it's-it's the street right next to it – wait let me check -- 60th avenue. Just get over here okay? And bring a first aid kid with you – and get the ambulance to move it faster if you can – I've already called them."
"Yes sir! Do you need anything else, sir? Coffee?"
"WILL YOU PLEASE SHUT UP AND GET OVER HERE NOW!?" Edgeworth was really screeching into the phone now, and Gumshoe can just imagine what kind of scene would have the usually calm and composed Edgeworth in such a frenzy. Maybe someone stole his ramen.
If that was the case...Gumshoe puffed up his chest and beamed his happy smile – Well, that's just the kind of job he experts in, chasing ramen thieves!
When Gumshoe arrived on the scene five minutes later, his face was the exact colour of a ripe tomato, having run most of the way here. It was lunch time after all, and the streets would be jam packed with commuters and being in a car would just hinder him. Of course, this was not the line of reasoning for Gumshoe's mad dash from the department – he simply had forgotten entirely that he had a police car at all – after all, it was Edgeworth doing the calling, and when Edgeworth called, he would come, quickly.
Of course, the scene wasn't quite was out of his line of reasoning either - he definitely hadn't expected it. He was picturing Mr. Edgeworth hysterical in front of a restaurant, angry over his being cheated of an extra egg by the chef and wanting Gumshoe to arrest him.
Someone -wait was that Mr. Wright? He looked so different from the last time he saw him, his spiky hair was all over the place – was being held in Edgeworth's embrace, who was busy pressing his free hand onto that person's chest. The man- Wright – was gasping for air and his face was twisted in pain, while Edgeworth's mirrored the expression with a grimace.
"Look, just hang on a little more Phoenix, it won't be long before the ambulance is here."
"It h-hurts--"
"I know it hurts – of course it hurts you bloody idiot, just don't let it get to you okay? Stay with me."
Wright gasped in answer as Edgeworth pressed his chest harder with a formerly-blue beanie.
"Mr. Edgeworth sir! Here's the first aid kit you wanted!" he interrupted, swinging the first aid kit forward like a baseball bat.
"Gumshoe! There you are! Open it up, give me the bandage. Hurry!"
Gumshoe fumbled inside the kit and handed him the snow white roll of cloth, which he pressed onto Wright's chest. It soon turned crimson in colour.
"Um...sir? How did he got like this sir? I mean – did someone stabbed him?"
"Do you see a knife, detective?" he snapped.
"Uh. No, sir."
"He was shot," Edgeworth spat out. "by deKiller, who is out on the streets right now."
Gumshoe's eyes gleamed. This was his golden chance to redeem his salary! "I'll go after him right now sir!" and dashed down the street like a bull in an arena.
"H-HEY GUMSHOE! NO YOU IDI--"
And then he couldn't hear Edgeworth's voice anymore as he progressed further down the street, because the only sound on the street was the wail of the ambulance's siren passing him.
"Tea?"
"Okay."
"Which one do you want? I have two kinds with me – Darjeeling and Earl Grey."
A confused silence.
"Uh, what's the difference?"
"Earl Grey has a distinctive aroma that taste like a swirl of exquisite --"
"Okay okay, whatever, I get it. Early Grey it is."
"It's Earl Grey, get it right, for god's sake."
Grunt.
***
"Tea?"
"Um, didn't I just have some?"
"Tea's good for you."
"Oh. Okay."
***
"Do you want a magazine or the news?"
"What magazine is it?"
"Uh...It's a tabloid, I think."
"Tabloid then."
"Really, Phoenix!"
"What! You offered!"
A sigh. "Here you go."
Shuffle of feet.
"More tea?"
"Nngh. Just hand me the damned tabloid."
"With some tea, of course."
***
"Did you know that new heroine of Jammin' Ninja is engaged to Corrida's cousin?"
"I couldn't care less."
"And Will Powers is rumoured to be secretly in love with her."
"Isn't that the hairy thing accused in the steel samurai case?"
"Yeap, the one with the old bag for a witness."
"Hmm. Speaking of bags, some more tea?"
"Miles, I'm full."
"I insist, tea will help you recover faster."
"Not if my bladder explodes first."
"With or without sugar?"
Sigh.
"Sugar please."
Smirk.
***
"Oh Phoenix, you're awake. Tea?"
Oh for the love of--
"Miles! I have enough of tea! I'm not an invalid, for god's sake! Stop feeding me tea all the time!"
Miles was sitting beside his hospital bed with a newspaper hanging daintily between his fingers and a cup of tea, smoking hot, sitting on the set of chests beside him. He looked up at Phoenix.
"I told you, tea's good for you."
"And I told you, if I have another sip of tea, I'll die of over-hydration."
"I don't think there's such a thing, Phoenix."
"Well that's great, I can be the first case of it ever happening to a person then – with the way you're pouring tea down my throat, I'm definitely going to make it up the charts."
"Tea, according to the Teabag's Encyclopedia, is an excellent source of--"
"I don't want to hear it!"
Phoenix covered his face with a pillow to block out Miles' voice, which prompted Miles to get up and try to pull the pillow off here.
"Listen to me! Tea is---"
Just then, the door to the ward Phoenix was occupying was pushed apart and Trucy walked in with Godot following behind her.
"Hi, daddy!" She sounded extremely cheerful, Miles thought, for a person whose father was just shot.
"Hey there Trucy. Say you wouldn't mind making Miles here disappear for a bit, would you?" Phoenix mumbled from under the pillow Miles was trying to snatch away from him.
"Daddy," she pulled a face. "You know I can't do that..."
"Thank goodness, O voice of reason, to see that there's someone else who--" Miles interrupted.
"...If I made him disappear he'll disappear forever."
"--is reasonable..." he finished lamely.
"Awww." Phoenix sulked.
Then they all burst into laughter.
Trucy skirted around the bed, dropping a large basket of what Miles presumed were gifts from her fans – dolls and candy sticks in a pretty weaved basket tied with decorative red ribbons – onto the bed stand and flopped down to sit beside her father, who was propped up by a stack of white pillows.
He was sporting a bandage around his chest, but that was the extent of his damage – he was smiling at Trucy so brightly that Miles thought he rivaled the white hospital light above them.
"How've you been, Trucy?" He pull off her hat with a flourish and messed up her hair fondly. She immediately went into a torrent of what had happened during her nightly performances and entertaining them with tales of her magical prowess and her fans' puzzlement. A break in her speech, then a lapse of comfortable silence. She addressed Miles.
"Oh yes, and speaking of which uncle Miles, why is daddy in the hospital?" She looked at Diego and wagged her finger. " Uncle Diego won't tell me – he said he doesn't know, so uncle Miles, why is he in the hospital?" She had a kind of glower about her at the mention of her father that told him that if something serious had happened to her father, she would be a force to reckon with.
"Well..." Miles looked at Phoenix; he nodded his approval. "Someone shot your father."
She frowned for a second and opened her mouth to speak but Armando beat her to it. "Who shot him, and why?"
"DeKiller did. Phoenix told him that he was quitting the...Job." It seemed wrong to downplay such a serious matter, but he didn't want to scare Trucy, and he didn't know the extent of Armando's knowledge.
"Ah. That successor thing?" the man in question said.
Well that cleared the doubts. "Yes."
"So daddy told him he won't do it any more?"
"Yes."
"And that's why he shot daddy?"
He repeated his answer.
"Oh! But that's so mean! I should have made him disappear when I saw him!"
Phoenix, who was examining the basket swiveled around sharply at the comment. "You saw him? When did you see him?"
"Evening today. He dropped by to watch my show. He said you were doing his work too, so he can take a break to come and watch my show. That was before uncle Miles called and told me about you though."
"I...see." Phoenix frowned and put the basket back onto the stand. He looked up at Miles. "What does this mean? Why did he went to see Trucy's show?"
His face turned pale all of a sudden. He looked like he was going to be sick. "Y-You don't think he's going to get back at me by hurting Trucy, do you?" His hands were clutching the fabric of Miles' pants, who was standing beside him, while his other was twisted into the wide bedsheets.
"Don't worry about that right now Phoenix." Phoenix ignored him, staring down at the white sheets covering his lower body with a frown plastered over his face.
He exhaled a sharp breath. "Because if he is, I don't think I have a choice. I'll have to continue working for him."
"No." Surprisingly, this didn't came from Miles – it was Trucy. "You can't go back, daddy. He's dangerous, I mean, look what he did to you just because you quited."
"Yes, but -"
"My other daddy told you to look after me you know," she tilted her head. "And you can't do that if you're dead."
The little girl displayed remarkable maturity for someone so young, Miles thought.
"I well, suppose. But still, there's really nothing else we can do – the police can't touch him and --" Phoenix was starting to look a little trapped. Miles put one hand on his shoulder.
"Wright," he said, deliberately reverting to his last name to startle him into attention. "Don't worry about that right now, Phoenix. Right now, the most important thing you need to do is to recover. All else is secondary."
"That's right, a man ain't a man if he goes into battle in a skirt." Armando piped up from the coffee cup he was stirring.
"Uh...Nevermind that. The point is, Phoenix, just stop worrying for now, alright?" He patted him a little awkwardly on the shoulder. If they were alone, he would have hugged him, but alas...
Phoenix sighed, and his forehead relaxed a little as he thought of something, and it was followed by a small teasing smile. "This coming from the man with premature wrinkles from frowning."
"I do not."
"You do too."
"I do not."
"You do. Tell him Trucy, he does right?"
"Yes, daddy, and so do you."
"Hey!"
They all laughed again.
Later that night, Trucy had pecked Phoenix lightly on the cheek and wished him goodnight and goodbye and left with Diego in tow. Miles had chosen to remained, and they were now sharing a cup of tea with the television showing late-night reruns of the Steel Samurai. Miles was sitting on his bed, beside him, and he thought of how nice it was, having Miles there with him – It made the situation, however unreal, however tough it was – to at least not bring him down.
He sipped the tea silently.
The atmosphere was comfortable, broken only by occasional chirp of some bugs, and the voices of the Steel Samurai and the Evil Magistrate as they belt it out over a clashing of spears.
"Phoenix."
"Hmm?"
Steel Samurai was whacking at the Evil Magistrate's feet with the pole of his spear.
"We need to talk."
"Can't it wait?"
"Well, I guess it can."
"Let's wait then."
Steel Samurai slipped and fell, and the Evil Magistrate raised a spear, ready to stab down at the incapacitated samurai – the credits rolled, signaling the end of the episode at the cliffhanger.
"Aww, I want to know how he survived that." Phoenix whined, turning off the TV with an expert flick of the remote.
Miles smirked. "The Steel Samurai of the future went back in time to save him, in case you're wondering."
"Huh? But wait a second – if there is a future Steel Samurai, then it must mean he survived, but he wouldn't survive if he doesn't go back in time to save himself, which means that there wouldn't be a him in the future, if there isn't a him in the future."
He looked befuddled. Miles laughed. They sat in the silence and looked at the TV screen and the inky blackness of the glass. Neither wants to break the silence – it's too precious. In that kind of silence, time itself seems to stop whispering, and you feel as though you were raised above it's flow, as if you couldn't be touched by troubles of any kind – free.
But good things had to end.
"Can we talk now?"
"It depends, do you have something I want to hear?"
"Don't be chilidish, Phoenix."
He sighed. "I know...Just...Don't really feel like it, I guess."
Miles glanced at him, looking worried. "Are you alright?"
"Just...Tired. There really isn't anything we can talk about right now anyway. The cards are all in his hands. All we can do is wait for him to make a move."
"Yes. In the meantime however, I've informed the special team assigned to capturing him about his existence. They' re going to spare some members to protect you, as well as watch for signs of hostility from him."
"I see."
"You don't sound happy to hear that."
"Would you be happy to hear that you need police protection from a known murderer, and a skilled one at that? If you would, why don't you try taking my place? I welcome all applicants." He snapped at him.
"....Sorry." Phoenix felt like an ass.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snapped at you. It was my fault we're in this situation in the first place." He looked away. Bitterness welled up at his throat. He wanted to blame someone, but there really isn't anyone to be blamed in this – not even himself, if he was to be honest about it. It didn't deter Miles though.
"It's not your fault, Phoenix. It's not really anyone's fault this whole mess has gotten so big, but most especially not yours."
"Thanks." It's nice to hear your own beliefs being confirmed. He tried for a more cheerful tone. "We'll be fine right? I mean, I got through this already, we'll get through the whole thing right? Not just the both of us. All of us - even Trucy and Diego."
"I don't know, Mr. Optimist, but I sure hope so."
Phoenix laughed, then dropped onto his pillow.
"Tired?"
"Don't know. I feel...charged. Like I'm waiting for something to happen, except it isn't happening and I'm all worn out from worrying."
"So many contradictions in such a simple testimony," Miles quipped.
"Don't," Phoenix warned. "point them out. I'm not going to have a shouting match with you in the hospital in the middle of the night."
"Then go to sleep, or that's just what we'll be doing," he laughed.
Phoenix nodded weakly and felt himself dozing off as sleep claimed him. The last thing he felt before he fell asleep was Miles, sweeping his hair back and kissing his forehead lightly.
"Goodnight, Phoenix."
I'll have sweet dreams tonight, he thought. His mouth curled into a lazy smile.
