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Chapter 25

Health and Welfare

Miles took the ladder slowly, he'd never been this deep in the belly of the ship before. The narrow passages of the brig were cluttered with pipes and machinery, a sharp contrast to what he'd grown used to on the O-3 level.

Senior Badd was wearing his working khakis, and stood to greet Miles when he entered the tiny office.

"Evening, sir," He said gruffly before sticking his lollipop back in his mouth.

"I came as soon as I could, Senior," Miles said.

"You shouldn't have bothered, sir," Senior grumbled, but he came around from behind his desk and with a motion of his hand, bade him follow. They went back into the passage and went toward a dogged hatch with the door painted Navy blue and several warning signs posted.

"It happens almost every time," Senior explained as he let Miles into the brig proper. Senior had them in separate cooling cells. Lieutenant Engarde was asleep in the rack in his cell, a faint smell of vomit and alcohol was still noticeable in the air around him.

"We have a long underway, the guys get cabin fever and they overdo it the minute you let them on the pier."

Lang was sitting up in his rack, angry and brooding, arms crossed and staring at the deck.

"Lieutenant Lang," Senior said as they approached, Lang glared at him and then at Miles and grimaced.

"Senior Chief…" he growled, "JAG."

Miles moved into the tight space so that he was directly against the bars of the cell and tried to meet Lang's eye, "Shi-Long, what happened?"

"I don't know," Lang met him with a frightening glare, "He came at me on the pier. The watch didn't even try to let me sort it out."

"It's bad enough we got sailors in jail out in town, we don't need officers fighting on the gangplank too,"Senior shook his head in disdain, "It's no wonder they went and did—"

"Allegedly!"

Senior gave a derisive snort, "It's a reflection of their leadership."

Miles frowned studying Lang, he'd never seen him in such a state. His hair was mussed from where he must have been tearing at it. He was red-faced, the veins showed on his temples and his neck, "Senior, let us have a few minutes."

Senior Badd looked at Miles in surprise, "What? Why?"

"Just… Five minutes, Senior," Miles said.

"I hope you know what you're doing kid," Senior huffed and turned shaking his head.

"Senior Chief Badd," Miles didn't turn to look at him, "You may address me by rank or title. You will not refer to me as 'kid'."

Lang's eyes went wide and his anger seemed to dissipate some, Miles crossed his arms and stood stiffly.

"Yes Sir," Senior muttered before leaving.

Lang grinned in spite of his anger, "Lieutenant Edgeworth! Laying down the law!"

Miles only glared, "What were you thinking?"

Lang's grin closed into a scowl, "He came at me."

"He's very intoxicated," Miles frowned pointedly, "What's your excuse?"

Lang bristled defensively and then drooped, sighing dejectedly, "There's no excuse. I was looking for you, and this clown tried to jump me."

"I need you tomorrow," Miles said and rested his hands on the bars of the cell, "So we can try and save your sailors. This… This was stupid, careless."

Lang nodded mutely, obviously remorseful.

"I'm going to talk to Senior and XO," Miles shook his head, "but he's probably going to make you spend the night."

Lang shrugged, he seemed spent suddenly, and exhausted, "I trust you."

"Get some rest," Miles turned to leave.

"Miles," Lang stood and approached the bars of the cell, "You should probably put a bug in XO's ear about a health and welfare."

Miles met his pointed stare and hesitated before giving him a nod, "Good night."

"Lieutenant Edgeworth," Senior said scathingly when Miles entered his office.

Miles sighed, "Senior Chief, what do you know about health and welfare checks? Can we do this underway?"

Senior shrugged, "Do you think there's a reason to do one? We just need skipper to sign off. I was going to let them out of here in the morning, once they've sobered up, but I can get a Corpsman down here before they're released."

"Very good, Senior," Miles hesitated and then continued, "I have to take Lieutenant Lang to talk to NCIS. Over on NSA. You don't think this episode will cause us any great harm as regards this case?"

Senior Badd leaned back in his chair and pulled the lollipop out of his mouth, "Sir, it isn't right. He's an officer—both of them. Engarde has had issues in the past, but Lang has been stellar. I don't know that he'll get away with this without a mark on his record, though…. But no, it shouldn't interfere with this case. He'll be cleaned up and ready to have his chat with NCIS, tomorrow. What time is his interview?"

"Fourteen," Miles frowned and looked at the deck.

"It'll be fine," Senior said gruffly and stuck the lollipop back in his mouth. Miles turned to depart and Senior leaned forward on his desk and cleared his throat, "Mister Edgeworth, sir, I'm sorry if I offended you earlier. You do good work and you deserve all the respect of your rank and title."

Miles nodded without looking at him paused near the open hatch, "Noted."

"But you are so young!" Senior laughed, "I've got skivvies older'n you!"

Miles looked at him and then turned, shaking his head, "That's very gross, Senior."

He returned to his stateroom and pulled off the black coat with its gold brocade at the cuffs, and hung it carefully in the locker. He'd have to iron the black slacks again, and he had a few extra dress shirts. He sighed and grabbed his shower things, stopping to sweep the small stateroom with his eyes. He hated having a roommate, being forced to live a top one another. Never having real privacy. But as his eyes fell on Lang's tidy rack, empty and untouched, he felt a little at a loss.

Miles awoke early, he'd been tired enough to sleep at least and while she was moored and on shore power, the ship was much more quiet. More like a building than a living leviathan. He slid into coveralls, because they were easy and at hand and made his rack.

He had to knock three times before Phoenix opened the door and stared blearily at him. He smiled but it was broken by a yawn.

"Hello," Phoenix said, "Where've you been?"

Miles smirked at him, "Out and about, what are you planning today?"

Phoenix rubbed the back of his head mussing his spiky hair even worse than sleep had and yawned again, "Oh I don't know."

"I need an escort to NSA," Miles said casually and stuck his hands in his pockets, Phoenix grinned at him.

"Miles are you wearing your poopy suit? I didn't know you had—"

Miles cleared his throat, "I thought if we left a little early, we could grab lunch."

"What kind of escort?" Phoenix scratched his cheek and then grinned mischievously at him, "I'll escort you anywhere you like."

Miles scoffed, "It's for Shi-Long, MAC and I are taking him to NSA to talk to NCIS, I need to have a commissioned officer present to accompany us. XO just told me to take whomever was available"

Phoenix frowned slightly and scratched his head, "Oh, so do I have to wear a uniform?"

"Service Dress Blues," Miles said, "I can find someone else if your blues aren't ready—"

"What time?"

"I thought we could meet on the quarter deck at eleven thirty," Miles said.

"I'll be ready," Phoenix had returned to his rack and stuck his hand under his pillow and pulled out his phone to check the time, "Do you want breakfast?"

Miles smiled at him.

"Give me two minutes," Phoenix said with a smile and he swept his index finger over the top of Miles' nose affectionately before closing the stateroom door.

He came out minutes later wearing a rumpled flight suit, toothbrush in hand, "I just need to hit the head real quick."

He was still rubbing his eyes as they made their way toward the aft mess, "We just hung out on the pier," he said casually, "Lang was looking for you."

"I know," Miles said frowning, "I talked with him last night."

"He seemed pretty… on edge…"

"He spent the night in the brig—he's probably still there."

Phoenix stopped walking, "What? How? Why?"

Miles shook his head, "How well do you know Matt Engarde?"

Phoenix shrugged and started walking again a little ways ahead of him now, "He's a typical fighter pilot… He wasn't in the brig too, was he?"

Miles leveled his glare stonily at him, "I'd heard you were in school together."

"Yeah, we were at NAS Pensacola for flight training—in the same class, and we both ended up in Oceana together. Not in the same squadron though. He's… He's usually pretty cool."

Miles nodded.

Phoenix shook his head emphatically, "Who wants to talk about him, let's talk about us."

Miles felt the heat rise to his face at that but he laughed, "What about us?"

He paused in the empty passage way and met Phoenix's eye. Phoenix was frowning at him.

"This is a relief," Phoenix conceded, "When you took off the other morning I thought you were mad at me."

Miles rolled his eyes, "You always think I'm mad at you."

"You don't help," Phoenix said but he grinned and rubbed his hair, "I couldn't find you all day yesterday either."

"I was bu—"

"Yeah, I know, you were busy," Phoenix's shoulders drooped and he continued toward the mess.

Miles went back to his stateroom after breakfast carrying a styrofoam box of eggs, bacon and toast and a covered styrofoam coffee cup. Lang was lying in his rack, prone and hugging his pillow.

"Morning," Miles set the food and coffee on the desk and went to peer at Lang a little more closely, "Hey, did you sleep at all?"

"Yeah," Lang grunted but didn't stir.

"I brought you some breakfast," Miles put a hand on his shoulder, "Come on, it's getting late."

Lang sat up huffily glaring at the deck, he was still fully dressed in the civilian clothes he'd been wearing the previous night.

Miles propped the stateroom door open so he could set out the ironing board, "Please, eat, get cleaned up, do you need me to iron your uniform for you?"

Lang only dropped his head in his hands and sighed in resignation, then he stood and pulled his blues out of the locker, "The pants could use it, they've been hanging here for months…"

He tossed the black slacks toward Miles and then retrieved his toiletry kit and a towel. He set them on his rack and started to undress.

"You're not hungry?" Miles looked up from where he was smoothing the slacks onto the ironing board, Lang paused to glare at him and went back to unbuttoning his shirt.

"They had eggs this morning."

"They always have eggs," Lang grunted and pulled off his shirt.

"No, I mean eggs eggs," Miles chuckled and checked to see if the iron was hot.

"Eggs eggs," Lang said dubiously and went to retrieve the food box, he sat on his rack and opened the box, and his face brightened. He looked up at Miles grinning boyishly at him, "Eggs eggs!"

Miles laughed and set the iron to cloth. Lang stood in front of him and held up the box still grinning, "They're beautiful. Yolks and everything…"

Miles turned the slacks over and started the other side.

"Look at them jiggle," Lang said, "like a pair of perfect—"

"Eat your eggs," Miles said with a grimace, "and pass me a hanger."

Miles and Lang were the first ones on the quarterdeck, pressed and tidily dressed, both holding their combination covers under their arms. Miles noted with a little dismay that Lang cut a very sharp figure in his blues, he felt like another stiff in a suit. Lang stood near the podium talking to the watch, somehow managing to exude a casual grace while looking every bit a Naval Commander. He grimaced and checked his tie, surreptitiously watching for Phoenix.

MAC Gumshoe joined them next, offering a his good natured smile, "Everyone here?"

"We're bringing an escort too," Miles said, "Because I'm—"

"Oh, right pal," Gumshoe nodded, "I mean sir."

"Hello Chief," Lang greeted him, "Are you driving us to NSA?"

"Yes sir," Gumshoe grinned and put on his cover, "I'll go get the car, we got one on loan from the security DET on NSA. I'll bring her round and wait for you at the bus stop."

"Very good, Chief," Miles replied and looked around again for Phoenix.

"Request permission to go ashore, for official business at Naval Support Activity," Chief saluted the Officer of the Deck.

"Very well, take care MAC."

Chief paused to salute the flag and then turned and walked down the gangplank whistling. Miles was still watching Chief as he disappeared on the pier when he was startled by a loud wolf-whistle from Lang.

Phoenix was walking down the hangar bay with Larry and Doug, both in civilian clothes at his heel. He cut a sharp figure in his blues too, and no one could deny the glamor and prestige of those gold wings gleaming above his ribbons.

Phoenix was smiling as he approached and slid on his sunglasses in the brightness of the open hangar bay. Larry brushed past him immediately and came up to Miles.

"JAG, buddy," he simpered, cajoling, "Can we come too? I promise we wont do anything crazy and we'll stay nearby and leave when you leave—"

"It's not my call, gentlemen," Miles said stiffly, he was watching Phoenix and Lang as they jokingly checked each other's uniforms, adjusting each other's ties and brushing off each other's shoulders, "We really have to go, is there something you need from the NEX?"

Doug was frowning, arms crossed and Larry shook his head in dismay, "Nah dude, we just wanted to get out of here for a little bit."

"I'm sorry," Miles said feeling real sympathy, but concerned now about the time, "Wright, Lang, we should go."

The small gray sedan was waiting at the pavilion when they arrived, MAC was in the driver's seat. Miles got in beside Chief and Lang sat behind him with Phoenix behind Chief.

For some reason, MAC insisted on keeping his window open just enough to drown out any hope conversation. He could hear snatches of conversation from the back seat, where Phoenix and Lang were talking and laughing, but not enough to follow. It made the ride lonely and incongruously long.

They arrived at NSA just before noon and parked after navigating a complex security gate made of high concrete walls, fortified with piles of sandbags and a system of hydraulic metal gates. The guards wore an unrecognizable uniform from whatever contract company the Navy was paying to guard the base.

Beyond the very intricate and imposing walls of the complex, the base was just a tiny cluster of shoddy brick buildings, with very formal signs denoting their purpose. The only building that stood out was a long single story building with a very ugly stucco exterior decorated with a garish Navy-blue stripe that wrapped around the whole of it with the letters NEX painted in gold near what must've been the front entrance. A sign with the actual NEX logo was mounted in a concrete stand in the grass outside the door. The roof of the building was made of corrugated metal painted blue, but faded from it's proximity to the sun.

Chief led them in the direction of the NEX building but stopped short in front of a small square building with a Command label on it's sign, "I'll go and see what she wants to do. I guess you guys can wait in the NEX so you're not standing around in the sun in your blues. JAG, do you have your blackberry, sir?"

"Yes, Chief," Miles checked his pocket for the phone and held it up.

Miles walked toward the NEX flanked on either side by Phoenix and Lang, something about wearing his blues, or perhaps the odd weight of the combination cover perched on his head, made him walk a little straighter, chin up, head back, chest out. A glance to either side showed a similar effect on the other men. Lang smirked at him.

"Chief wants us inside so we don't disrupt traffic," he said with a wink at Miles, Phoenix chuckled and jogged a few steps ahead to hold open the door.

"Gentlemen," he said with a mock stiffness.

"Why thank you, sir," Lang grinned as he entered.

"Come on," Miles said, "Stop showing off."

"Oh, I do love a man in uniform," Phoenix replied in a rough falsetto that was more screechy than feminine.

"So," Lang pulled off his cover and tucked it under his arm, and stopped to gaze around the interior, "You said this NCIS Agent is a woman?"

Miles looked at him skeptically, "In the vaguest sense of the word, yes. But I wouldn't… she'll sink her hooks into you and latch on like a leech, she'll suck the very life out of you."

Phoenix laughed out loud, "So that's what you were busy with yesterday, huh?"

"Hey Miles, does someone have a crush on you?" Lang laughed too.

Miles only shuddered and ducked into the main NEX store, which, this being early on a weekday, was blessedly deserted.

"So am I in trouble?" Lang asked as they passed displays of expensive cosmetics and perfume, "Why do I need an escort?"

"You're not in trouble," Miles said, "But just in case, I've got one ready."

He turned then and smiled at Phoenix and Phoenix returned the gesture in kind.

"Ugh," Lang said and walked ahead of them, "what do you want me to stand look out so you guys can use the fitting rooms."

Phoenix raised an eyebrow suggestively and Miles frowned.

"Is that all you guys think about?"

They ganged up on him after that, making suggestive comments about every mundane thing they encountered in the store. Miles tried his best to ignore them, checking his phone and his watch as he walked around the store. He went to the register to buy a packet of gum and a set of fingernail clippers and had paid and started to walk out when he realized that he was alone.

"Oh bother," he muttered under his breath and turned to walk back into the store when his phone buzzed.

"Lieutenant Edgeworth," he said into it stopping just outside the store.

He listened while MAC ironed out their plan on the phone, surreptitiously looking for Phoenix and Lang.

"Yes Chief," Miles said into the phone, "You want to meet us here and we can grab lunch?"

He hung up after Chief replied and looked up toward the store entrance to see Lang and Phoenix walking together toward the register. It was startling to see, they looked very formal, very serious together in their uniforms. Posters for the service. He tugged at his tie anxiously, he suddenly felt like he was only pretending—he didn't really fit in.

He looked down at his hands where his own fingers slid along his neck tie. He wore the gold stripes on his cuffs, just like they had, but instead of stars his sleeve had the double oak leaf of the JAG corps. This was pretend. He'd never be anything but a lawyer, or a judge. A professional jurist playing dress up.

Phoenix exited first and smiled at him a little sheepishly—he used to do that when they were teenagers. But the rest of him was worlds apart from that boy he used to know. Miles must've been gawking or frowning or something, because Phoenix's smile faded into concern as he approached. He ran a hand over his hair, showing the star on his cuff, the movement causing light to gleam across his gold wings.

"What?" He said stopping next to Miles.

Miles dropped his gaze to the deck and shook his head.

"Aww Miles," Phoenix said turning his cover in his hand, "We were only messing with you, you know that right? It's only because you get so flustered and—"

"I love you," Miles said meeting his eye, and Phoenix stared, shocked.

Miles continued to stare back, shocked that the words came so easily from his lips. Worried that Phoenix didn't seem to have any reply.

"Nick…"

Phoenix grinned suddenly, "How could you not? I mean… Just look at me…"

Lang was standing over his shoulder now, looking at whatever he'd purchased in the bottom of the small plastic bag. Miles glanced at him, suddenly wishing he would disappear.

"Eh," Lang said dismissively, "I like them just a little taller."

"Screw you," Phoenix said grinning at Lang.

"Nah," Lang said taking the little box out of the bag, "I still have to live with your boyfriend. I don't like drama."

"Come on," Phoenix took his elbow and steered him toward the food court, "Didn't you say something about lunch?"

"Chief is on his way to meet us," Miles said, "Maybe we should wait—"

"He'll find us there, I'm sure Chief gets it," Phoenix smiled and let his hand drop down Miles' arm so that their palms touched momentarily, "Chief wont want to see any drop in our health and welfare…"

Miles chuckled and gazed sidelong at him as they walked toward the only part of the NEX that seemed to be bustling with people, most of them enlisted sailors wearing the green and brown pattern of the NWU Type III. Several curious looks darted their way as they walked.

"Speaking of health and welfare," Lang spoke up behind them, still staring at the little box he'd purchased, "Thanks for taking my advice."

Phoenix shot Miles an inquisitive look, and Miles shook his head, "Senior said it may be up to a week before results are posted, since it has to be sent off ship."

"Is someone doing drugs?" Phoenix sounded scandalized and turned back to look at Lang, "Not one of your guys?"

"No…" Lang huffed, sounding defensive, "My sailors know better…"

"They don't know enough not to get arrested though," Phoenix grinned at Lang but Lang was glaring at him now.

"Sorry," Phoenix frowned, obviously aware that he'd crossed a line.

"You'd better be," Lang said coolly, "If you're concerned for your own health and welfare…"

"Please gentlemen," Miles looked stiffly between them, "That's unbecoming…"

A/N: Like always, thanks for reading! You complete me!

Yes they're still in port—it's not uncommon for a big deck like this to stay in for as much as a week after so long underway.

Disclaimer: Ace Attorney and all characters are copyright by CAPCOM; I'm just a fan imitating. The stories presented are influenced by the multiple games as well as the comic (Manga written by Kenji Kuroda).