Phoenix closed the front door behind him and turned to face his friend. Miles was standing with his back to the wall, his arms crossed. He was looking absentmindedly down at his arms, or perhaps it was the floor that had caught his attention. His eyebrows formed a stern, thoughtful expression. On the whole, he looked uncomfortable.

"Can I get you anything? Coffee?" Phoenix offered.

"No thank you," Miles said, now staring at a wall. "I don't like to drink coffee at night."

"Okay..." Phoenix sat down on a nearby armchair. "Come on, sit down."

Miles was still for a few moments, his gaze fixed at a point far, far away. Then he moved to sit opposite Phoenix, gracefully walking to the couch and sitting down in one fluid motion. He folded his hands in his lap, a solemn look on his face.

Edgeworth...

Just as Phoenix was about to invite Miles to speak, he took a breath and opened his mouth.

"Wright... I want to discuss something with you. I worry that I am, as they say, 'making a big deal out of nothing.' However, there is something that has been on my mind for a while, and I want to clear my conscience."

Miles was staring at Phoenix, his speech quick and concise.

Edgeworth, I think this is the most unguarded I've ever seen you.

"I have been dishonest with you, Wright. I was raised in a household where lies were commonplace. Although I never admitted it to myself, I knew that my mentor was constantly twisting the truth to his own benefit. My greatest fear is that I will one day become like him, incessantly rewriting the truth as I see fit, and even getting some form of sick pleasure from it."

At this point, Miles began to speak more slowly and thoughtfully, his eye contact intermittent.

"A few weeks ago... or was it a month?" he mused. "You came to my office, and you found your letters in my desk, and you asked why I never read any of them... and I told you that I had wanted to forget the past and move on with my life.

What I told you could not be further from the truth."

Miles paused, seemingly deciding exactly what to say.

"When I was very young... you could say that I 'didn't play well with the other children.' In my eight-year-old ignorance, I even began to look down on the rest of them. They didn't have ambitions the way I did. I felt that I was better than the rest of them for it, and I never had friends. I even managed to convince myself that I was happier that way."

Miles gave a small chuckle at his own ignorance.

"I told myself that friendship didn't matter, not when I was going to do such 'important' work as a defense attorney," Miles continued, looking off into space as he spoke. "It was a lie. I was lonely. I wanted friends more than anything.

That day that I finally found friends was probably the happiest of my life. I never took them for granted; I was grateful for every moment we spent together."

Phoenix noticed that Miles kept referring to him in the third person.

This can't be easy for him, he realized. He's never talked this openly with me before.

"And then I lost everything." Miles' brow twitched as he recalled the incident. His face settled into his familiar scowl, only this time there was pain behind his eyes.

"I was miserable. I was grateful, of course, for von Karma's generosity toward me, but I was miserable all the same. And I deserved all of it."

He paused again, his eyes closing as he began to speak once more.

"Although I could never fully admit it to myself, I always thought I had killed my father. I knew I had. I didn't deserve any shred of happiness in my life.

That's the truth of the matter. I didn't want to move on with my life. Far from it. I desperately wanted some piece of my old life back, some fragment of normalcy, but I didn't deserve it. So I ignored the letters. I think... I think it began as an act of my subconscious. I shut myself off from my friends, convincing myself on the surface that it was what I needed and wanted.

I missed them. My friends... they were the best thing ever to happen to me." Miles' voice broke slightly. He still had the air of conversing not with Phoenix, but with an imaginary person that only he could see.

"That's the truth, plain and simple. I'm sorry I couldn't tell you the first time you asked me. To admit that sort of dependency on others... it went against everything that man taught me to believe." Miles' voice broke again, and he turned his eyes directly into Phoenix's.

"I know I've made mistakes in the past. I was the dreaded 'Demon Prosecutor,' the man who would do anything for a guilty verdict. I left for a year to change all of that. I want to build a new reputation, a reputation of integrity. I cannot allow you to continue to hold me in high esteem unless I am completely honest. I apologize for lying to you before. I realize that you probably think even less of me now, but I can't in good conscience continue to lie to you."

Miles took a deep, shaky breath. He stared at Phoenix, his eyes begging him to say something in response.

How the hell am I supposed to respond to that?

"I... I don't think any less of you," he began. "In fact, I admire you for being honest. I know it isn't always easy. But... it helps. In some small way, it helps to know that you didn't forget us."

"I'm glad to hear it," Miles said abruptly. "I suppose I should be going." Miles got up and walked stiffly toward the door.

"Are you sure?" Phoenix asked. "You can stay... if you want to."

"Yes... yes, I'm sure."

Miles pulled the door open and stepped outside.

"I apologize for wasting your time, Wright. I just... I needed to get it off of my chest. Just... just in case I didn't get another chance."

Phoenix gave a warm smile. "Don't worry about it, Edgeworth. I'm always here if you want to talk." He watched his friend close the door behind himself.

That... can't have been easy for him.

Phoenix undressed himself and prepared for bed, an inexplicable feeling of happiness carrying him along.