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).

Chapter 21

The Veteran

Phoenix yanked off the gloves and tossed them into the caddy. He paused by the sink to rinse his hands and of course the buzzer was going off again before he'd had a chance to make it over to the call box.

"Wright," he was curt, but then, he was in a bad mood well before this unexpected visitor showed up.

"El-Tee?"

"Chief?" Phoenix felt a tremor of apprehension… Why would his Chief come to his apartment?

"Yeah, El-Tee," Chief sounded as if the intercom device was confusing to him, "I been tryna call you for two hours."

Phoenix frowned and patted his pockets… No, he didn't have his phone on him, "I'm sorry Chief. Is something the matter?"

"Naw, I just needs youse to finish signing these evals so we can push them up. Department's breathing down my neck, sir."

"You have them with you?"

"Yeah, sir, I got 'em right here," Chief Tigre even sounded menacing on the call box, "My buddy is wit me, if that's all right?"

What? Phoenix frowned, "Um…"

"He's driving me… Cos o'tha… You know…"

"Oh, right," Phoenix pressed the buzzer, "It's open, I'll see you in a minute. Door's unlocked."

"Thanks, sir."

Phoenix went back into his room and yanked off his tee-shirt. He paused to do a sniff test and decided to slap on more deodorant before pulling on a clean shirt, a henley. Then he ran his fingers through his spikes and went back to the living room.

Chief knocked and then let himself in, "Sir."

Phoenix stood and waved him over to the sofa, frowning at his companion. The other guy was huge, with heavy set brows and a hulking posture to accompany his size. He glowered around at Phoenix's apartment, stopping when his gaze landed on Phoenix.

Phoenix grinned sheepishly and held up a hand, "Sir, I'm Lieutenant Wright…"

"Bruto Cadaverini," Bruto's hand engulfed his, "My pleasure, Sir."

Chief sat, plopping the stack of gray folders on the coffee table. He was still wearing his NWUs, so they must have come straight over from the office.

"Bruto's a retired Senior Chief," Chief Tigre said, "This shouldn't take too long."

Phoenix reached over the coffee table and picked up the folders, "Can I get you guys something to drink?"

"No," Chief said curtly as Bruto joined him on the sofa.

Phoenix paused to grab a couple of pens out of a cup on the counter and sat at the small kitchen table. He flipped open the first folder with a frown. Chief had already made his corrections and everything had been reprinted. He pulled the form out of the folder and flipped the paper on it's short end—like it was on a clipboard. Then he checked the numbers.

He could hear the two men in the other room conversing in low tones that faded into the periphery as he sank deeper into the task in front of him. He signed the first evaluation and slid it back into the folder, marking the routing form on the front with the date and his initials.

One of the reasons he did so well as a pilot was his ability to hyper-focus on whatever task he had before him. It got him through the hard parts of training, it allowed him to get through the long swims and hard runs, and it was torture on the poor toilet—but it made him a successful aviator. So he hadn't been watching the time as he went through the reports, nor had he been listening to what they were saying. But when he turned over the last folder on the pile and smoothed the stack together, he stood to rejoin Chief and his companion and startled at what he heard.

"….that shit going down with Engarde… I guess the JAG afloat out there sent it over to RLSO Lant…"

Phoenix froze, and swallowed. Chief looked over in his direction.

"Oh, all done, sir?"

"Yeah Chief," Phoenix said and he held up the stack of folders, "We should be good to go, now."

They stood as Phoenix joined them at the sofa and passed the folders to Chief, "I used to fly with him."

Chief hesitated before taking the folders, "What's that sir?"

"Engarde… You mean Matt Engarde, right?"

Bruto tapped Chief on the arm and Chief glanced at him momentarily and then grinned at Phoenix, "That right?"

"Heh, yeah," Phoenix stuck his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants, "I mean, we've known each other for years."

"Are you close friends with Mister Engarde?" Bruto asked.

"Eh…" Phoenix rubbed his head and shrugged noncommittally, "I mean… I guess."

Bruto looked at Chief pointedly and then offered a hand to Phoenix, "Good to meet you, sir."

Phoenix frowned as his massive hand swallowed his again, but he returned the shake with firm determination, "You too, Senior."

Bruto laughed at that, "Nah, I'm all done with that, sir."

Phoenix eyed him with renewed scrutiny, "Is your daughter in the Navy?"

"Yeah," Bruto smiled and shot Chief another pointed look, "How did—"

"Is she an HM2? We had an HM2 Cadaverini onboard," Phoenix said.

Bruto seemed to relax a little, "Yeah, that's my baby girl. She wanted to break into medicine—I wouldn't have it any other way."

Phoenix chuckled, "You must be proud. Chief?"

Phoenix offered his hand and Chief took it quickly, "Thanks El-Tee…. We'll see you Monday."

"Yep," Phoenix said and turned toward the door, "Oh, hey Chief…"

Phoenix opened the door and Bruto stepped out, but Chief Tigre paused to look at him, "Were you sticking around for Thanksgiving?"

"What? Why?"

"I was thinking about putting in leave—for most of that week," Phoenix said.

"You ain't had enough leave yet, El-Tee?"

Phoenix laughed and rubbed his neck, "Chief this isn't—"

Chief burst out laughing, "Nobody's gonna be around—not even the students…. I don't have an issue with it. But I'd get it in soon if I were you, before they finalize the watchbill."

"Will do, Chief," Phoenix leaned out of the door as they departed, "Have a good one."

He didn't worry himself about Chief and his friend or whatever business they had with Matt Engarde. Instead as he closed the door behind him, he paused to lock it and then leaned his back against it and let out an exasperated sigh. The reason for his bad mood came flooding into the foreground again.

He's just busy…. Don't read more into this than it deserves…

He got it. He was about to hit another anniversary in the Navy—he wasn't new to the way they were driven sometimes. But two days…. Miles could've found twenty minutes to call in two days.

You could call him too…

Phoenix shook his head and stepped into his bedroom, that's just what he needs. For his pathetic boyfriend to call him while he's in the middle of a brief, or an interview…. What if I call and he has to ignore the call? Phoenix went straight back to where the phone was plugged into the wall charger. Nothing…

Phoenix unplugged the phone and stuck it in his pocket. Then he grabbed his keys and went to go walk circuits in the parking lot. He wasn't allowed to run. But he had to do something—another minute in the apartment and he'd probably lose it.

He stopped walking when the phone rang. He'd left the apartment complex after three or four circuits in the parking lot and had started along the quiet nondescript Dam Neck road that lead toward the coast. At some point the sun had set, and the sky was rapidly fading into night.

"Hello?"

"Phoenix?"

"Hi Miles," Phoenix turned where he was standing on the side of the road, only just realizing that he'd lost track of time and distance, "What happened?"

"Nothing… It's been busy," Miles sounded tired, and Phoenix started feeling guilty about being angry with him.

"I was worried about you," Phoenix said, "I mean I know you've got a case and everything, but when I didn't hear from you—especially after the second day—"

"I miss you too," Miles said.

"How are you?"

"Fine, Nick," Miles really did seem distracted, "We're going to trial on Monday…. I think he's going to plead not guilty."

"That's bad?"

"No… Um… If he's not guilty, then it's the logical course of action," Miles cleared his throat, "but it's pretty much guaranteed to extend the trial."

"Something's bothering you," Phoenix frowned, he'd come out with only the Henley and sweatpants he'd been wearing and he was starting to feel the bite of autumn cold. He turned and headed back toward the apartment complex. Miles was taking too long to reply.

He sighed, "It's… I shouldn't talk about it… You understand."

"I do, Miles," Phoenix picked up his pace—what was he thinking? The issue is you weren't thinking…

"But I am experiencing… em… sort of a moral conundrum…"

"Aww… Miles," Phoenix didn't have any clue what to tell him to put him at ease.

"I think I let myself get emotionally involved," Miles said, "I'm pretty good about it usually—in that it doesn't happen to me… But this one…"

"What do you think is right?" Phoenix looked up, relieved to see the lights of his apartment complex across the next intersection.

He smiled thinking about Miles and his moral conundrum, "I'm not gonna lie," Phoenix continued as he stepped into the intersection, "I'd trust my gut if I were you."

Miles laughed, "That's not very precise advice."

"You ought to trust yourself some—" Phoenix tossed his phone as the car rushed right in front of him and took a swerving left on an obvious red light. Phoenix fell in the road and cursed at the driver.

He poked around in the grass of the median for his phone—it was still lit and the call was still going, "Miles?"

"What happened? I didn't hear you—"

"It's nothing… Some asshole—probably drunk—just ran a red light while I was crossing the street."

"Are you all right?"

Phoenix laughed, "Of course—I was just surprised…"

"Where are you? I thought you were supposed to be at home, resting…"

"I am," Phoenix said, "I just went out for a walk—I was getting a little stir crazy."

"That's not resting at home," Miles scolded and Phoenix smiled as he made it to the other side of the street.

"I'm fine Miles," he looked up startled, "Hey, I have to go."

"What—why? What are you—?"

"Love ya Miles, bye," Phoenix ended the call and ran toward the gate of his apartment complex—the car that almost hit him had crashed into the gate.

Steam poured from the crushed hood of the car—distorted where the driver had struck the decorative brickwork around the sign showing the complex's name. It swirled in the twin beams of the vehicle's headlights. Phoenix ran up to the car and leaned into the open passenger window, "Hey!"

The driver was alone, cheek resting on the deployed airbag, blood dripping down his temple and over his cheek, "Hey are you all right?"

Phoenix ran around to the other side of the car but that side was jammed against the brickwork around the sign. He pulled his phone back out and jogged back around to the passenger side as he dialed.

"9-1-1 what is your emergency?"

"A c-car crashed into the gate at my apartment complex," he yanked open the passenger door, "Hey! Are you all right?"

Phoenix startled then—he'd been in this car before…

Miles called him back while he was sitting in the hospital waiting room, "Miles I'm sorry—there was a car accident at the front gate of my apartment complex…"

"You're not hurt?"

"I saw it, but I wasn't in it… It was the same guy that almost hit me though."

"You had me very worried, first you almost get hit because you're wandering out in traffic and then you hang up abruptly with no explanation."

"I had to call 911…"

"Was there no one else around to call?"

"No—I don't know maybe…"

"Is something the matter?"

"Uh, yeah," Phoenix had a hard time stringing his thoughts together let alone trying to explain away Miles' concern. Or was he angry? "I know the guy who was driving."

Miles was silent on the other end of the line and Phoenix shook his head, "He's being looked at right now—but they don't think he's been seriously injured. I think he's going to jail if the hospital releases him."

"You went to the hospital with him?"

"Miles, it's Laurence—Laurence Williams," Phoenix said.

"I don't know who that is," Miles' reply was terse, "Why did you feel the need to accompany him to the hospital?"

"Laurence was the other pilot… From the accident back in August…"

"Okay," Miles still sounded annoyed with him—didn't he get it?

"Miles, I wasn't going to let him go by himself," Phoenix frowned into the phone, "I think… I think maybe he was coming to see me…"

"Phoenix," Miles words were clipped, he was angry, "You didn't have to go to the hospital with him."

"Miles, I know him—we flew together—"

"I don't see why that suddenly makes it your responsibility to see to his personal problems. I'm sure the police or the EMTs could've managed without you… "

"Miles…?"

"Hang on—Phoenix Wright—why did you volunteer to go to the hospital with this guy? Certainly, he's got next of kin designated to deal with such things? "

"He's my friend Miles… We flew together…"

"Is that why you volunteered to take Engarde's spot in the VFA?"

"What?"

"Look, I'll talk to you tomorrow, I'm… I'm angry right now—"

"You're angry…? At me…?"

"It's… It's not just you… But I have a lot going on right now…"

"So… So Miles, what does this have to do with Matt Engarde?"

"Never mind…"

"No… hold on… You wouldn't bring this up now if it wasn't bothering you…"

"I said never mind, Phoenix…"

"Miles, it's my job okay? You know there are only five hundred guys in the entire Navy right now that do what I do—"

"I said never mind, we can talk about it tomorrow… Before either of us says something we might regret…"

"We need at least a hundred more…"

"Phoenix…"

"When you take one guy out of rotation it affects all of us…"

"Okay…"

"All of us…" Phoenix could feel his own self-righteous anger stirring within him again. I can't believe this is happening.

"Let's talk tomorrow… When we're both in better spirits…"

"No," Phoenix actually shook his head, "No Miles… Don't hang up on me… You know how much this is killing me? I'm a training Divo right now… In the biggest fucking fighter squadron in the Navy…. I'm surrounded by pilots every day. But I'm stuck here, writing evals and shredding paperwork—because I'm broken… I'm broken and useless, Miles…"

"You're not…"

"You're not even in the real Navy, Miles… Maybe that's why you keep waffling—"

"I haven't been—"

"You can take any lawyer off the street and stick a JAG tag on him Miles—you're all the same… You have no idea about the sacrifice—"

"Don't be nasty, Phoenix…"

"Or the fraternity—"

"Let me call you tomorrow…"

"Don't hang up on me Miles…"

"You're angry," Phoenix closed his eyes. You're losing him.

"Don't hang up on me Miles…"

"I'm sure your friend is nearly finished at the hospital—"

"Miles, don't you hang up on me—"

"I love you," Miles said and hung up.

"Miles you fucking hung up on me!"

He took it out on the plastic chairs in the waiting room.

Nearly two hours later he was sitting across from Laurence in the drunk tank, with a bloodied lip and two full sets of bruised knuckles. Laurence was very drunk, and as a consequence, he was very asleep. This wouldn't be a big deal if he wasn't a Naval Officer.

Phoenix sighed and leaned forward on the bench, head in his hands and listened to the steady cadence of Laurence's breathing.

It was after midnight when the deputy on duty brought a visitor to see them. Phoenix stood to greet Matt Engarde before shaking Laurence awake.

"Matt, I owe you big time…"

"Phoenix Fucking Wright," Matt grinned at him with his heavy lidded eyes made dark by the shadow from his too long hair, he glanced at Laurence and frowned.

"Can you get Laurence too?" Phoenix asked, hopeful.

"Dude, no… he's drunk—his Chain has been notified…. Nothing we can do…"

Phoenix clasped a hand on the bars of the holding cell and frowned, "I'm worried about him."

"Sorry man, them's the breaks…"

Phoenix shuddered hearing Matt say it.

The deputy joined them shortly and grimaced at him, "You're cool?"

Phoenix nodded, sullen, embarrassed, "Officer? Can we take him too?"

"Can't," the deputy frowned, "He was driving at twice the legal limit. We had to notify his command."

"What about me?"

"You really pissed of Missus Wiggins at the hospital," the deputy smirked and unlocked the barred door, "But she's always been kind of a bitch."

He led them back toward the processing desk so Phoenix could receive his sparse belongings and sign a copy of his citation. Phoenix opened the large yellow envelope with a frown, his phone… his keys… he didn't even have his wallet on him… That's probably the only thing that saved him—that and not having a driver's license.

He folded the envelope over and tucked it under his arm as he got into Matt's car. He pondered silently as Matt drove the nearly deserted roads back toward Oceana.

"What happened, dude?" Matt said after several minutes of silence.

Phoenix shook his head, "No idea. It was weird… Spooky even…"

He relayed the details of the accident in a drained monotone which, to his relief, Matt didn't feel the need to interrupt. He almost jumped when Matt laughed out loud.

"Dude, that doesn't explain why you were there," Matt grinned at him in that self-important way he had, that made Phoenix question his own decisions.

"I wasn't going to let him be taken all alone—not when he was barely coherent."

"Yeah, of course not. Not Phoenix Wright..." Matt pushed him with that tone again, "No I get it, man. But you got a ticket."

Phoenix hugged the envelope to his chest and stared at the damaged sign as Matt rolled into his apartment complex. Pieces from the smashed headlight of Laurence's car caught the gleam of his headlights as he entered.

"Apparently," Phoenix muttered under his breath, "I pissed off Missus Wiggins at the hospital."