Thank you to all the kind reviewers! Knowing that folks are enjoying the words I put down makes me all the more thrilled to keep writing them.

Also, can I say that I love writing for a fandom that makes knowing a bit of German actually kind of useful?


Tuesday came and went. Wednesday did the same. Miles woke, worked, and returned home in a daze, unable to shake the cloud that had fallen over him. He was polite but abbreviated when spoken to and avoided people whenever he could. In the evenings he cooked simple meals and buried himself in reruns of action shows, falling asleep on the couch before stumbling off to bed.

To most of the world he looked the same as always, an extremely well-groomed, put-together, and self-possessed young man. Perhaps he looks a bit more tired than usual, he secretary commented once, but doesn't he always look tired, anyway?

Miles Edgeworth, however, also worked in close company with detectives and detectives are not most of the world. Detectives are people paid to notice things which aren't right.

Of course, it also doesn't hurt when a detective gets a very large hint.

Thursday morning, there was a knock on Miles' office door and seconds later, a large grinning, scruffy-looking man in a green trench coat burst crashed into the room without so much as an invitation..

"Morning, Mr. Edgeworth!"

"Gumshoe." Miles hardly looked up from his desk. Had it been anyone else, he probably would have been annoyed at the intrusion. Gumshoe, however, was something like the weather. He was always there, rarely worth talking about, and a convenient scapegoat in a bad mood. Privately he respected the man's professional enthusiasm but realistically he felt no match for it today.

"I brought you something, sir." Gumshoe placed a large file with a few overstuffed manila folders on Miles' desk. "I thought you'd want first crack at this case. It's a real complicated one, that's for sure."

"No." Miles said quietly.

"This woman's a college professor, okay?" The detective barreled onward eagerly. "And her husband finds out she's been cheating on him with one of her students. So she..." Gumshoe stopped midsentence, his mind working backwards. "Wait, did you just say no?"

"Yes, I did." Miles continued focusing on the document in front of him without bothering to glance up. "I'm far too busy now. I suggest you try Payne." He paused. "On the other hand, if it's as complicated as you say, it might be a better idea to see if Mr. Zakaria is available."

Miles could practically hear the hiss of Gumshoe deflating. "The office said you weren't on anything right now. Did you take another case I don't know about?"

"No, I did not. However, as I am sure you are aware, prosecutors are granted office periods between cases, should we need them."

Gumshoe had still yet to see anything but the crown of Miles' head, much to his intense confusion. By now the young lawyer should be engrossed in examining the documents in the case files, barking out orders, and, asking Gumshoe questions about the case he himself had never bothered to think of.

"Hey, you alright, pal?" The scruffy detective thought for a moment and seemed to come to a conclusion. "I heard the flu's going around. If you're not feeling well I'm willing to a make a bet..."

"I'm perfectly healthy, Gumshoe. Thank you for your concern. I'm simply not taking this case."

The detective remained standing in front of Miles' desk, speechless and scratching the back of his head. After several moments of silence Miles finally looked up.

"Was there something else, detective?"

"Er, no, sir, that's really all I came to ask."

"I see." Miles turned back to his writing. "Thank you, Detective Gumshoe."

"Uh, right then, pal. I guess I'll be going." Gumshoe hung on for a few moments longer, before picking up the untouched case file and making his way to the door. He paused and turned back to the man at the desk. "I'll recommend Zakaria gets this, like you suggested. Have a good day, okay, sir." The last statement came out almost as a question.

"Goodbye, detective." There was a streak of mild annoyance entered the young lawyer's voice and taking his cue, Gumshoe walked out the door.

The rest of Miles' day followed much the same pattern as the previous two. He did paperwork until he went home, fed himself unenthusiastically, and relegated himself to the couch, telling himself he had no energy for either books or work, allowing himself to push the thoughts that threatened to overwhelm him to the back of his mind once more.

This excuse for his behavior was beginning to bother him, however, and the escapism he craved seemed elusive. With an almost resigned sigh he turned off the television and went to make himself a cup of tea.

He'd turned down a case this morning, a case Gumshoe had particularly found of interest, an act which was nearly a first for Miles Edgeworth. He'd turned down cases before, but not before having read through the file and deciding that either the matter was dull and of no interest to him and could therefore be relegated to less able and insightful prosecutors.

Prosecutors less out for glory, he corrected himself, sitting down at his table and stirring the contents of his cup absently. His case selection had also been charged by the Von Karma-like hubris that had possessed him for so many years. Where was challenge or triumph of convicting a man of manslaughter or murder in self-defense? Those things simply hadn't been allowed to exist in his crusade against the murderers and monsters in the world.

The tense of the thought struck him suddenly and the teaspoon clattered as it slipped from his fingers into the swirling liquid of his cup. Was his crusade a thing of the past tense now? He'd come to no conclusions during his month off, having decided neither to continue to peruse his role as prosecutor with the same zeal as before or to give it up in favor of something else. He had come back somewhere between the two paths, not entirely sure of where he was going. And what of that most recent case? Hadn't he done exactly what he'd told himself he was doing and gone against one of the world's monsters, even though in the end defendant herself was merely charged with evidence tampering and conspiracy?

As he drank his tea, Miles mind was suddenly brought back to Saturday morning when Phoenix had laid his hand on his arm and softly reminded him they'd done the right thing.

Suddenly he wanted very much to see Phoenix. Phoenix who, for whatever reason, considered him a friend, considered him likable, considered him good. He wanted to spend just ten minutes looking at himself through Phoenix's eyes. He wanted to make Phoenix to smile at him and crack jokes at him. To banter and feel safe and forget about everything.

Miles picked up his cell phone.

It was just past eleven-thirty at night. Too late for an idle phone call.

He wanted to hear Phoenix's voice.

He dialed.

He let it ring once before he hung it up.

Phoenix didn't need to know he couldn't pull himself together. What good would that do, save to have the other man think he was weak? Miles shook his head. He had no desire to be pitied or worse, cast off.

He dialed another number.

"Hallo." A sharp female voice answered the phone. "Was ist das? Ich habe zwanzig Minuten dann muss ich vor Gericht gehen."

"Hello, Franzika. Miles here."

"Miles, do you have any idea what time it is?" The girl on the other end of the phone spoke in clipped tones with the barest hint of an accent.

"Twenty to nine in the morning in Berlin. I must say, they're starting trials quite early over there if you have to be in court soon."

"The defense foolishly lobbied for an early morning trial." She snorted. "What a weak and foolish fool. He probably thinks it will throw me off my guard."

"I do imagine you'll teach him otherwise."

"Of course."

Miles was about to say something else but was interrupted by cracking noise on the other end of the phone and the sound of Franzika yelling at someone nearby. "Dummkopf! Ich mag mein Kaffe mit kein zuckre, du Dummkopf! Kein!" Miles drank his tea and waited for the noise to subside.

"So, Miles Edgeworth," Franzika turned her attention back to the man on the phone and switched back to English. "I hear you managed to get yourself involved in quite the foolish trial, going after the chief of police and your own boss, nonetheless."

"How did you hear of that? I have trouble believing such a small affair would make the international news."

"Of course it didn't. I merely find it prudent to follow the affairs of my little brother."

"Ah." Miles felt instinctually that she wished to say something else and he waited for her to continue.

"I may be in Los Angeles soon. Papa has asked me not to but I do wish to see him at least once more."

"Of course, you will stay with me." The question had been unasked but Miles answered anyway.

"I do not understand why you choose to stay in that foolish city. I've never really been able to stand foolish American fools myself. You ought to return to Europe."

Miles recognized an offer from Franzika when he heard one. "Thank you, Franzika. I'll keep that in mind."

"However, I myself am studying to take the bar in that awful place."

"I thought you just said you hated it here."

"I do. I have my reasons."

"I see." There was a silence while Miles wondered what those reasons might be. In the end, he decided not to ask. "Well, don't let me detain you from court." He paused. "Argue well, Franzika."

"I always do, little brother."

Miles felt very small after he got off the phone. He was, as Franzika would say, a fool. He'd had years to deal with his father's death, nightmares or no. Franzika's father, however, sat in a balance, waiting to die and so she herself was waiting to grieve. Disobeying his order not to visit him was probably the first time she'd gone against his word her entire life.

She's only seventeen, he reminded himself, shaking his head as he put his cup in the sink and wound his way towards his bedroom. And she's not made of steel, no matter what she may think.

It was to her credit, he mused, that she still willingly called him brother. It would be too easy to blame Miles for had happened, was happening, to her father. Instead, she simply called him little brother and carried on like she always had.

That night Miles drifted off to sleep wondering if she possibly knew how much respect and affection that earned her in his eyes.

O O O

One missed called, the phone declared: Miles Edgeworth, 11:34 pm.

Phoenix frowned. A drop of water from his still wet hair slid down his cheek and hit the cell phone. It was just past midnight now and too late to call. He wiped the water off the device and reconsidered. Miles had called pretty late himself and that might mean it was important.

"Hello?" A gravely voice answered on the end.

"Hey, um, it's Phoenix."

"Oh... yeah." There was a muffled sound that probably had to do with the shifting of blankets and pillows.

"Sorry, I missed your call. I was in the shower. Is everything okay?"

"Yeah... fine. It was... an accident. I dialed you by mistake." An audible yawn came from the other side of the phone.

"Oh, gotcha. Sorry, I woke you up, then."

"...'sokay."

Phoenix knew he should feel guilty about waking Miles up but the half-asleep prosecutor was, for lack of a better word, adorable. Phoenix had to bite his lip while his free hand clutched his comforter to keep from laughing at this thought.

"Hey, Miles, while I've got you off your guard, want to meet for a drink after work tomorrow?"

"Aren't we going for dinner?"

"That's Saturday. Tomorrow's Friday. Humor me."

"Okay. Fine."

"The place on Elm. See you there, six-thirty."

"Okay. Goodnight, Wright."

"Night."

Hey, Miles, while I've got you off your guard?

Where did that come from, Phoenix asked himself, putting the phone on the charger. And why did Miles answer his phone if he'd been asleep, especially if he'd just called him by accident?

This is Miles Edgeworth, Phoenix reminded himself as he crawled into bed. And just like always, Phoenix never really understood why he acted the way he did towards Miles or why Miles reacted in the unpredictable ways he did.

When it came to his relationship with Miles Edgeworth, he concluded, nothing made sense. He fell asleep wondering if it ever would.