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Chapter 38

Surfacing

They were lying on the cool wood-paneled floor of the office. Face to face but with their legs pointed in opposite directions. Like a yin-yang symbol. Legs curled around in opposing forces so they could fit in the small room and only their heads level, so that they could stare into each other's eyes.

"Hey Miles," Phoenix stared into the endless dark of his eyes. The lights were off too, so it gave them that dark, dangerously tempting look—how a thirsty man might see a cave pool. Necessary, inviting, but also hiding something dark and deadly.

Miles blinked and looked away from him, turning his chin down toward his chest so that Phoenix could only see the dark feathery locks at the top of his head. Miles had blushed and now he was speechless. Phoenix could feel dread rising in his chest.

"I've never kissed anyone, before," Miles said finally, his words whispered into the wood floor. Phoenix swallowed and then turned to stare at the ceiling.

Mom didn't use the room very much, but she'd kept it in tact. The way his father had left it. He wasn't sure what possessed him to hide in here with Miles. Maybe because he knew that if Mom did come home, her habit of avoiding this room would give them some time.

Time to pretend they were only curious. That they were looking at Dad's books. That nothing happened. Well, nothing happened. It was only a kiss.

"I'm sorry…" Phoenix frowned at the bumpy popcorn texture on the ceiling. It's supposed to keep things quieter. But it never drowned out the shouting.

"No…" Miles said and Phoenix caught the movement in his peripheral vision when Miles lifted his chin to look at him again, "Nothing to apologize for."

Phoenix reached out and fumbled for his hand and then squeezed it, half expecting Miles to pull away. Miles didn't pull away but reached up from where he was lying and took Phoenix's face in his hands.

They started to spin and the world became a close, suffocating vortex. There was fire all around him but no heat. He could still feel Miles' hands on his face—no it was the straps from his helmet, choking, crushing him.

Phoenix could feel the water cradling him, but there was no cold. Wasn't it cold?

Then there was pain.

Phoenix Wright opened his eyes in the white room, blurry and unreal. He opened his mouth to gasp but there was something plastic obscuring his face. He tried to sit up, but his body did not respond.

He closed his eyes to escape into the comforting darkness, but it did nothing to dull the pain. Then there was screaming.

Who's screaming?

Screaming and the desperate beeping alarms from the machines in the room with him.

God it hurts.

He wished it would stop. Stop screaming and let me rest…

Hands. Voices. Shadows in the light as they surrounded him. Then numb.

Then nothing.

"Oh, sweetheart! You're so skinny!"

Phoenix rolled his eyes. He'd gained almost twenty pounds in OCS.

"Mom," she had him in an iron hug and clung desperately to him, "Mom, you'll wrinkle my uniform."

She let him go then and took a step back to appraise him. Her eyes filled with tears and she brought up her hands to cover her face. Phoenix frowned at her in concern, she seemed so small now. So diminished.

"Mom what's wrong? Please don't… Mom please don't cry…"

He put his hands on her shoulders, they were in ceremonial dress for the graduation, so he had white gloves on. Were those really his hands? They seemed so large on Mom's shoulders—kinda like Mickey Mouse hands. She sobbed and buried her face into his chest and slid her arms back around him.

"Nick I'm so proud of you…"

His eyes shot open and he stared at the white ceiling above him. Sterile, blank, and foreboding. It was like standing in front of a blank canvas in class, the bored looking model seemed about to doze off, and everyone seemed intent on what they were doing. He couldn't decide where to start.

His eyes were watering from the intense light and he blinked to let them adjust. He was alone in the room. There were sunflowers in a vase on a small table near the window. Window? He closed his eyes again. It was quiet. It was still.

When did he leave the ship?

"Then what?"

Miles sidled closer into him. It was way too cold for camping, but this was the first long weekend they'd had together. Certainly it was a better option than a hostel, and there was no way they'd be able to afford a hotel room.

"I'll come back here to take the Bar," Miles said casually and leaned his head on Phoenix's shoulder, "Try to find work with a municipal court to start."

"Wait, when you say you'll come back here, do you mean here here?"

Miles frowned, "I mean, I'd have to go to the city. For the exposure, and the kind of work I'd like to do."

Phoenix drooped and pulled away from Miles, "So you don't even plan on coming back here."

"Here? This town… This place…" Miles chuckled , "There's nothing here…"

Phoenix could only stare, choked up, angry and hurt…

I'm here…

Phoenix opened his eyes and gasped. His breath hitched in a sob.

"I'm here…"

His voice rattled out of his throat like a croak. Weak, and barely audible.

Phoenix tried to sit up, but his arms and legs were leaden and unmoving. It was like being trapped in his own body, only having the window of his eyes to stare out of.

"I'm here…"

He was alone in the over bright room. Sun streamed cheerily into the room from the lone window. It was so quiet. Eerily quiet.

He couldn't control it. He started missing classes. He couldn't eat, couldn't sleep. The next weekend after he went home. Because he wasn't sure what else he could do.

At least Mom was always happy to see him. Even if she fussed over him and gave him a hard time about school. This semester was shot. But he'd go back for the next one. He'd managed to withdraw and not fail, that was worth something at least.

"He left, for who knows how long…"

"Nick…"

He cried that night, but Mom didn't pry. She just held him. Like she understood. Because she'd had a man walk out of her life too.

He never came clean to her—not until after he'd joined the Navy. But she must've known then. Of course she did.

He startled awake when he felt them pulling and prodding him. They moved him into a wheelchair so his bedding could be changed. She wheeled him into the bathroom to help him wash up. It was humiliating.

His arms and legs still felt heavy and didn't work exactly the way he wanted. But he managed and she helped without causing him too much embarrassment. She was a stout woman, the nurse, in her mid-forties probably, with a beautiful Mediterranean complexion and a dark sultry stare.

By the end of the week she was doting on him.

Laurence started coming by to see him around that time. He had bandages on his face, and there was no doubt he'd come through this with scars. But Laurence still always managed a smile. It could've been worse. He could be laid up like Phoenix.

"Hey bro," Laurence came in one day wearing regular clothes and grinning ear to ear, "Heading home tonight—well back to the states anyway."

Phoenix tried to smile when he looked at him. He wanted to show that he was happy for Laurence.

"They're sending me to Walter Reed in DC," Laurence continued, "For an evaluation. Then I'll go home."

Phoenix turned away from him and looked toward the window, he was happy for Laurence—really. But it made his situation seem all the more dire.

The days blended together for him. He might've been there for a few days or several weeks. He couldn't tell. There was so much time lost too. Because of the anesthesia and the complicated surgeries. He'd never admit it out loud, but sometimes he hoped they'd put him under and let him stay. There was no way this would end well.

It would've been so much easier to die.

Stay here, please…

He fell back into the rumpled white sheets of the hotel bed and tried to catch his breath. Sunlight filtered through the thin translucent curtains hanging from the hotel window. Miles was still down there, exploring. He was surprised really, Miles had always been so shy about these things.

When Miles finally joined him at the head of the bed, sharing his pillow and grinning, Phoenix couldn't help himself. He watched, detached, dreaming, while his own fingers found that face. His thumb, darker than Miles' face, was stark against his skin as he traced the curve of those lips. Miles smiled again, showing his pretty teeth, and Phoenix felt a buzz of electricity course through him as those teeth scraped lightly over the skin of his thumb as he took it into his mouth all the way to where it joined his hand.

Miles sucked playfully at it and then met his eye. Phoenix started to laugh and pulled his thumb away from the clutch of Miles' lips, but not quickly enough stop Miles from clamping down on the tip of his thumb with those pretty teeth. Phoenix sucked in a hiss of pain and pulled his hand away.

"Damnit Miles," the playfulness in his tone was almost lost in the breathy hoarseness of his voice. Phoenix couldn't stop now and he climbed on top of Miles, straddling his hips between his knees a hand at each of his shoulders. Miles looked up at him, those gray eyes dark and endless and those pretty teeth catching a gleam from whatever light made it past the shadows his body cast while hovering over him.

Phoenix leaned down and kissed him, foreheads pressed together as he pushed into him, desperate, seeking, hungry. He felt Miles slide his hands over his shoulders and wrap his arms around his neck. Phoenix thrust his tongue into that mouth and Miles accepted sucking, letting his teeth scrape against the flesh of it.

He had to pull away to catch his breath. He leaned back feeling the press of Miles' thighs behind him as he looked down at him. Miles was breathing hard and Phoenix marveled at the sight of him in the sudden light, the swell and retreat of each breath, so alive.

Phoenix bent again, this time finding his collar bone and letting his own teeth bear down. Miles arched his body up to meet his and Phoenix moved his hips into him, grinding into him so hard he could feel the press of his hip bone. He could feel Miles stiffen against him as they warred with each other before finally falling into rhythm.

Phoenix blushed so hard she laughed out loud at him. Geez, she was in her forties, surely this Italian Mamma had seen a hard-on before. She was trying to pretend she hadn't noticed. But of course she had, how could you not?

The embarrassment alone was enough to bring him down. Thankfully, she never said anything about it, and she seemed to dote on him all the more after 'the incident.'

It was good, actually. She'd wheel him around the corridors on the floor they were on—which was better than lying in bed all day. When he was ready to try, she helped him stand and let him lean on her to take those first tentative steps outside of his wheelchair.

Before he knew it, he was wheeled into the doctor's office. Phoenix didn't recognize the man. Maybe he'd visited before, but Phoenix couldn't remember. He'd lost time and memories with it.

"I'm Commander Steinberg," the doctor offered a hand and Phoenix shook it tentatively.

"Good afternoon, Sir," Phoenix wasn't sure what to say.

The doctor chuckled at his very formal reply, "Well, Lieutenant Wright—what do people call you? Can I call you Phoenix?"

Phoenix shrugged, "Sure, okay."

"It's been a rough couple weeks for you hasn't it?"

"Um…"

"Those ejection seats, huh? They save lives, but man they sure do a number on you, amirite?"

Phoenix frowned at the doctor's incongruous cheeriness.

"How do you feel?"

"I'm fine—"

"Probably like you smashed feet first into a brick wall, huh?"

"Um…"

"I tell you what Phoenix, you are one lucky ducky. I was looking at your chart, you really are lucky to be alive, my friend."

Phoenix stared at him and swallowed.

"You were in the water for almost three hours—"

"There was a raft…"

"I know—had to have been, skinny kid like you would be dead in half an hour in water like that."

Phoenix glared. You can hardly call me skinny…

"You broke both your knees, man—ouch! They pulled you out hypothermic, then you had a bout of pneumonia. And don't let me get started on the number this did on your spine."

Phoenix suddenly felt sick. That's scary…

"Doc, will I be able to—"

"Oh yeah, walk, run, fuck… I mean someday. You just need to take it a day or a week at a time. You'll be all right son. But it won't all come back over night. I want to send you back stateside as soon as possible, because you have a couple more surgeries to get all your bits back in order."

"All my bits…?"

The doctor laughed and shook his head, "One lucky ducky…"

Back in his quiet, lonely room, Phoenix stared at the ceiling. Light still reflected from the window casting everything in cool shadow as the sun set.

One lucky ducky…

His PERS status was going to be changed and he would be pulled from his billet in the Squadron. Because this wasn't going to be over any time soon. He felt like crying. But all he could do was stare at the deepening shadows as they ate up the ceiling.

Phoenix awoke to the sound of birds outside his window and the cheery light from a newly risen sun. He frowned. Part of him kept hoping he'd wake up and learn that this was a dream. A very awful dream.

Another part of him hoped he wouldn't wake up at all.

Lucky ducky…

Giselle, his nurse, was kind enough to bring him to the hospital's sundries shop. Mostly it sold get well bouquets and stuffed animal gifts. But he managed to find some stationary and a packet of pens.

If you can't love this about me, then you don't really love me…

He's probably pissed at me…

Phoenix frowned at the small white plastic bag in his hands. It had an NEX logo on it. The last time they'd spoken was at the NEX in Borginia.

Will he love you now? Broken and useless like you are?

Would you force that on him?

Giselle stopped pushing the wheelchair when he let out a sob. He dropped his head into his hands, trying to stop it. Hoping he could hide it.

He saw this coming…

The little white bag slid off of his lap and Giselle came around to pick it up. Then she pulled him into a rough embrace. It was awkward because he was sitting in the wheelchair, but he squeezed her back as best he could and cried like he was six years old again. Scared, uncertain, and worried about everything spinning around him. The only thing that seemed certain was that it was his fault…

The tray with his dinner was waiting for him on the little table thing beside his bed. A new envelope was sitting on the table too. The homemade "Get Well Soon" cards must've been piled up on the ship for a week or two before it could be sent over on the COD. The hospital must still be sorting through it—so he'd gotten his well wishes one or two at a time for the last several days. Still nothing from Miles, though…

Can you honestly blame him?

That's my bottom line…

Phoenix shoved the covered plate on it's tray to the side and set the unopened envelope on top of it. He laid the pad of writing paper on the table and then broke open the cardboard backing of the blister pack to get out a pen. He clicked the pen and picked off the wax seal on the writing ball, and stared at the blank stationary pad in front of him.

The paper was thin and green colored. It seemed odd, but it was the only paper they had in the little NEX. Well there was pink too—but seriously?

The blank ruled page glared back at him forebodingly and his thoughts drifted back to those blank canvas days in class. The feeling of confusion and apprehension—of not knowing where to start.

'Dear Miles…' He stared at the words with a frown, long enough for them to start blurring on the page. What was the point in holding back?

'I'm sorry about the way things turned out while we were in port. It kills me to think that the last time we talked, I made you unhappy. I'm sorry. I don't think I'll ever be sorry enough.

I missed you when you got back onboard, but not for lack of trying. I hope you weren't trying to avoid me, but I understand if you were. I'm sorry.

I miss you now. I'm not really sure how long it's been (I don't even know what day it is), but it feels like forever. Like the last six years all over again. I can't wait another six years. I miss you. I love you. I'm sorry.

I don't really know when of if I'll ever be myself after this. I completely understand if you don't want to deal with this. I wouldn't want you to suffer because I'm an idiot. I love you. I'm sorry.

They're sending me back to the States soon. Because I need more surgery. The Navy is putting me on LIMDU and they'll look at me in six months to see if they're going to keep me. It's pretty likely that I'll not just be broken, but unemployed too.

Maybe it's my fault for not listening to you back then. I do regret it sometimes.

There's a lot of things I regret. A lot of things that are too late to fix. But I've never regretted you. I love you. I wish I hadn't said those things to you in Borginia. Because now I'm not sure if I even really meant them. I guess I was just trying to make you feel like you had a good thing. I don't know. Maybe I'm just stupid. I don't know.

The only thing I'm sure of is how much I love you.

I'm sorry. I really am.

I know I've probably ruined this again—just like last time… but I hope you find it in your heart to forgive me. Because I don't think I can forgive myself.

I missed you ever since you left back then. I miss you now. I love you.'

He stopped and stared at the already rambling letter. He ought to start again. But as he watched his own tears fall on the thin pages, creating little round splashes on the paper, Phoenix realized that it didn't really matter. If these were going to be his last words to Miles Edgeworth, they may as well be the truth. The whole truth.

And nothing but the truth.

A/N: Thanks for reading!

OMG! So. Unbelieveably. sad...

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).