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Chapter 40

The Worst Sort of Homecoming


Phoenix,

Thanks for the package. Also I've taken care of your request about Maya—she's thrilled. I hear she'll be pinned at the next command quarters.

Everyone is relieved to hear that you're back in the states. Though Lang told me to reiterate that it is messed up that you went and crashed that plane. There are easier ways to get out of Open Mic Night.

I'm well. Things are starting to calm down, so I don't know what to do with myself.

I miss you a lot. This ship isn't as interesting without you.

I hope you're focused on healing, I want to see you standing on the pier when we pull in—although, Larry says he can't tell me when that will be, exactly. But I'm sure you have a way of finding out. (December is my estimate)

I look forward to spending Christmas at home with you—are you sure your mother doesn't mind? Either way, I'm ecstatic to spend a Christmas in the sunshine sans snow.

Send pictures! If you don't I'll e-mail your mother.

Did you get the photos I sent? The ones from the Labor Day thing?

You were truly missed that night.

I love you, miss you. Write back soon. (Or you can e-mail too… you have my e-mail.)

Miles

It was brief. Written in Mile's tidy hand on a bright yellow piece of legal paper. But Phoenix chuckled as he read it again. Then he folded the much abused paper and stuck it back in the envelope it came in. He stared at it in his hands for a minute or ten—until the sudden descent caught his attention and he looked out of the small plastic portal of the civilian passenger jet to see the clouds thinning and the ocean shining down below.

The letter had found him in DC, at the hospital in Bethesda. He'd spent nearly three weeks in Italy and another ten days in Bethesda. It felt like months. There were drugs and surgeries in all of that time, and now as the plane took him into the airport in Norfolk, his apprehension had grown.

He was the last one off the plane, because it was still hard to walk. The flight had only been a couple hours long, but it was enough to leave him drained and in pain. The handsome blonde attendant on the flight had taken a shine to him and insisted on pushing the wheelchair.

Phoenix was just too tired to argue. At least Norfolk International was small. Dulles had been a nightmare even in the haze of OxyContin that had sustained him over the long transatlantic flight.

"Is someone coming to meet you?" The flight attended asked, leaning over Phoenix's shoulder.

Phoenix startled a bit and then nodded, he'd almost forgotten about that guy. He rubbed his face wearily pausing to scratch at the sloppy weeks old beard that had grown in since the crash.

"My roommate," Phoenix said dismissively and stared as the baggage claim belt started moving.

They didn't talk as the bags started coming into view and they were soon cut off by other passengers anticipating their bags as they closed in around the carousel. Phoenix sighed and took out his phone—well the burner phone he'd picked up in DC. His phone was still on the ship.

He waited as the screen turned on and stared at the generic face of it. It still had that stupid picture of grass and sky it came with.

"Well, honey," the flight attendant said still standing behind him, "I'm gonna get my bags. I have an early flight tomorrow."

Phoenix only frowned at the words. They sounded strange coming from this guy.

"You sure you don't need any help?"

Phoenix nodded and then turned to look at him, "Yeah. My roommate will be here. I don't have a lot of luggage."

"It was nice to meet you," the flight attendant gave his hand a final shake before he stepped off toward the baggage claim.

Phoenix stared. Maybe you could do that?

He looked down when his phone buzzed in his hand. Stan had finally answered.

Hey man. It's bad timing. I'm in Washington this week.

I called someone else for you. I figured you were in the air.

Phoenix shook his head and grimaced. So he didn't even know who was picking him up.

As the group around the baggage carousel thinned, Phoenix wheeled himself toward it. His duffel sat forlorn on the belt waiting for him. He pulled it into his lap and wheeled himself outside.

Hey Buddy.

Phoenix frowned as he texted Stan back.

Who did you say was coming?

He only waited a few moments before the reply buzzed his phone.

Matt. Matt E.

Phoenix sighed and leaned back in the wheelchair. Well, this is going to be awkward. Thanks, Stan.

He sat outside for nearly half an hour before he was startled by the obnoxious red and white sports car that stopped at the curb in front of him. Matt Engarde hopped out, grinning maliciously as he adjusted his sunglasses and tossed his hair.

"Well, well, well…"

"Hey Matt," Phoenix said with forced cheerfulness, "Thanks for coming to get me."

"I know, huh? Even though you crashed my plane and everything."

Phoenix frowned up at him, "Yeah… So…"

"I'm just messing with you," Matt said and went behind Phoenix to push the wheelchair.

"Oh no," Phoenix stood shakily, "They didn't give me one. This one belongs to the airline."

Matt laughed and offered an arm to help Phoenix into the car.

"Dude, you look like one sad sack of sh—"

"I know Matt. Thanks." Phoenix put his head down and sighed.

"You still live up there by the base?"

"Yeah."

It was awkward. The last time he'd seen Matt was in the brig on the Carrier. Now here he was, laughing and smiling. Regaling him with his adventure on board and his departure. It was so much less dramatic than Phoenix's departure.

"JAG didn't think it needed to go any further. But that CAG. What a bitch."

"Captain Skye?" Phoenix was surprised, most of the Air Wing was pretty fond of her.

"Yeah," Matt was looking around as he turned into the apartment complex, "She gave me a letter of reprimand. Told me I was a poor example."

Phoenix didn't want to argue, so he said nothing. It really might've been worse.

"So what are they going to do with you?"

Phoenix cleared his throat, "I'm going back to Oceana while I'm on LIMDU. I don't know how this will work out."

Matt frowned sidelong at him, "Will you fly again?"

Phoenix only shrugged.

"That's a bummer, dude."

Phoenix nodded reluctantly.

Matt stopped at his building and parked the car. Phoenix got out immediately.

"You gonna be alright, man?"

"Yeah," Phoenix said, "There's an elevator."

"You got my number, right? Holla if you need anything."

Phoenix shouldered his duffle and smiled, "Thanks Matt."

He didn't stay to watch Matt drive off. Instead he limped toward the nearest exterior door and entered the complex.

He didn't remember the elevators being so far inside the building. By the time he got to his floor he was sweating and in pain. The medicine was wearing off.

The apartment was shockingly bare. He'd moved his things into storage before he left for deployment and now Stan had his own things boxed up for his eventual move to Washington State. Yeah, Stan had been awarded his spot with the VAQ. At least it was someone he liked.

Phoenix dropped the duffle on the floor inside the door and went to sit on the sofa. He didn't have a bed here anymore either. That was in storage with the rest of his things.

Everything had gone completely sideways. Even sitting on the sofa was painful. Phoenix groaned and thumbed the screen of his phone. Miles had e-mailed him—probably while he was flying—which meant he wasn't sleeping again.

Nick,

Let me know when you get in. What's your new phone number?

Miles

He took a moment to reply and then stood wearily to retrieve his bag and his meds. He wanted to sleep. Sleep and not think about how alone he was now. How this homecoming was mostly just sad and hopeless.

It was dark when he woke up to the unfamiliar ring tone of his new phone. He stared at it startled and dazed for a moment before picking up up to answer it.

"Hello?"

There was a wave of static that suddenly filled the receiver and then Miles' voice, a little distant but clear, greeted him ecstatically.

"Nick how are you?"

"I'm good, Miles," he smiled in spite of himself, "It's good to be back home—well, somewhere familiar anyway. How are you?"

"Better, now that you've picked up the phone," Miles laughed and the sound was washed out in static, "I think this is the third time I've called."

"Sorry," Phoenix said frowning, "I fell asleep."

"It's all right, I was just anxious to hear your voice."

"Guess who ended picking me up from the airport?"

"Wasn't it your roommate—Stan or something?"

"Matt Engarde," Phoenix said, "Stan's out of town this week."

"Wow, he beat you back to Virginia? I suppose he flew off more than a week ago…"

"It was totally awkward… How's everything going?"

"Oh, it's fine… It's starting to become monotonous…. Do you know what the shellback ceremony is?"

"Oh geez Miles, you're not really going to—"

"LN3 and I are both pegged for it, we cross the equator next week I think."

"Make sure you get knee pads," Phoenix said, stifling his laughter.

"But yeah, that's why I wanted to call, we're definitely spending Thanksgiving out here."

"You're still slatted to come home in December though? Right? Mom's super excited."

"And there's something else… I have a family… erm situation… that's come up. So I'll be up in New York for a couple weeks after we pull in."

"Oh," Phoenix could feel the heat rising, "This couldn't wait until after the holidays."

"No, if it could I'd let it wait. I don't really want to go up there for this."

Phoenix stared at the cold darkened and lifeless apartment, "What's going on Miles?"

"It's complicated, and I don't know how to explain it over the phone… I promise I'll make it up to you."

Phoenix hesitated, "Yeah… No, I understand."

"I'm so sorry," Miles started and Phoenix shook his head and then realized Miles couldn't see him.

"It's fine… I'm half-out of it as it is. I don't think I'll be very much fun to hang around."

"Phoenix Wright…"

"It's fine Miles," Phoenix smiled into the empty apartment, but he could feel disappointment and a selfish anger start to burn in his eyes, "It's a couple extra weeks, right? I have surgery after the new year. So I'm going to be busy too. But it's okay. We'll be fine, right?"

"I miss you so much," Miles said before another wave of static drowned him out.

Phoenix wasn't listening as the static subsided. Miles was explaining something about a man named Von Karma and his daughter. He could only think about the distance. Six years was a long time. Three thousand miles a long way. They barely knew each other anymore. The distance had never felt so remote and unreachable.

"Miles, I can wait… But don't forget about me," Phoenix interrupted him, "I-I can't… I need you right now. I don't know what's going to happen to me. I don't know if I'll…. I'm by myself here."

The silence between them filled with static. Miles wasn't saying anything.

"Miles?" Phoenix asked finally, nervous that the tenuous connection had already been lost.

"I'll be down there to see you, Nick," Miles said, "Just not as soon as we had planned."

Phoenix frowned and shook his head, "I'm sorry…. I don't mean to sound so pathetic on—"

"I can't imagine what you're dealing with right now. I hate that we're so far apart, Nick. But I am hopeful for you. Truly."

"Miles I really don't know what's going to happen…"

"Whatever happens, you'll do well. A lot of pilots fly again after ejection. You're one of the best."

Phoenix laughed, "Who told you that?"

"That's what everyone's saying."

"They're just being nice, I think," Phoenix said.

"Did you see the pictures from the Labor Day thing?"

"Not yet…" Phoenix frowned at the night sky outside the apartment window, "I literally got in and fell asleep."

"That's good. You need to rest. To heal… I mean…"

Miles faded into another wave of static and Phoenix reached up to wipe at the silent tears of regret and self pity that started to slide down his cheek.

"I miss you," he mumbled into the phone.

They stayed on the phone together for a few more minutes. There wasn't much to say really, but it was hard to say goodbye. So they stumbled over that and it was drawn out in long awkward pauses and filled in with static from whatever magical satellite connection the Navy used to enable the liberty phones on the ship.

He sat back on the sofa after the call was ended. The cold, empty apartment was all the more oppressive after talking to Miles. He suddenly felt more lonely and disconnected than he had when he'd first got in.

He winced at the pain in his back and then slowly slid off the sofa onto the floor, back flat against it, knees up. It brought some relief, but not much. He looked at the time on his phone—it was still to early for more medicine. He could do some Ibuprofen—they gave him plenty of that. He fell asleep on the floor still trying to decide if he should take the Ibuprofen or not.

Miles had sent pictures which were mostly poorly lit photos from the hangar bay with a bunch of random officers Phoenix couldn't remember. The video was from Larry. It was touching really, even though the recording—probably made on Larry's phone—was poorly tracked and the sound distorted and tinny.

Juan had joined Lieutenant Yew for the duet, dedicated to a surprised and bashful Miles Edgeworth. Juan had stopped the song's opening lines to announce the dedication to loud cheers and laughter. The song—Phoenix couldn't remember where it was from—but it was some incarnation of Jefferson Airplane or Jefferson Starship and it wasn't "We Built this City".

Juan was in his element up in front of the over-large inflatable screen set up in the hangar to host the open-mic night to celebrate Labor Day underway. The karaoke screen appeared only as a glowing silver square in the video casting Juan and Lieutenant Yew in stark silhouette against it.

Phoenix was shocked. She sounded amazing belting out 'Nothing's gonna stop us now' in a pretty close imitation of Grace Slick's contralto. He grinned as he watched it a second time. The song was interrupted in a few places by Larry's misplaced commentary, but Phoenix got an impression of what it must've been like.

He must've played it through on the apartment floor three or four times as the gray morning gave way to the sunrise. It was chilly, but it was a pretty day.

Finally, Phoenix stood up. He struggled and had to use the couch for support, and the pain brought tears to his eyes.

And we can build this thing together

Standing strong forever

Nothing's gonna stop us now

He grinned through his tears and took his medicine. He didn't have a lot with him, so he'd have to go out into the world on his own. He grabbed small clothes and a t-shirt out of his bag and went to get a shower.

And if this world runs out of lovers

We'll still have each other

The song rang in his head as he limped back to the shower. They still had each other.

Nothing's gonna stop us

Nothing's gonna stop us now


A/N: Thanks for coming along with me on this strange journey. I've been saying epilogue, but I think I'm just going to roll into the sequel. The next story is called "Broken Wings" and we're going to spend some time ashore. Yes I moved the Von Karma's to New York, they're there in the Anime I think—so it works. Phoenix is left facing the prospect of never flying again. While healing, he's stationed ashore and given a division to run. Miles is reassigned to the Navy Yard in DC and has a crazy Marine JAG on his team. Meanwhile, those elements from his past are rearing up to haunt him. Phoenix falls prey to his own demons and even the few hours distance between DC and Virginia Beach seems unbearable.

Will they stay together? Does Miles have the fortitude to overcome his past and rescue Phoenix from despair? What will become of Lang and the scattered crew? What will happen with Matt Engarde?

*evil grin*

This is too much fun...

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).