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 22

Damage Control

"Love ya Miles, bye," Phoenix hung up abruptly, and Miles glared at the phone in his hand. What was going on?

Miles, stuck his phone in his pocket, he felt shunned—brushed off…. What could Phoenix be doing? Why was he in such a hurry?

Just relax—he'll have an explanation for this…

His phone rang then and Miles shook his head—you're over-reacting. He brought the phone to his ear without checking the screen.

"What the hell is going on?"

"Wow…" Lang laughed and a wave of static drowned out his laughter momentarily, "Who pissed in your coffee, Miles?"

"Shi-Long?"

"Don't tell me, you're fighting with your boyfriend?"

"No… It's…" Miles sighed, "So you got my e-mail, I take it?"

"Yeah," Lang still had a noticeable hint of amusement in his voice despite the distortions of their connection, "So how long are you going to keep asking me to do these favors for you?"

"I didn't want it to take forever, we go to trial on Monday," Miles frowned, "I owe you then, name your price."

Lang laughed again until the static rose up to cover it up, "I'll think of something, I'm sure… I'll have it finished today—I still have to work, you know."

"Thanks Shi-Long," Miles said.

"Hey," Lang added.

"What?"

"Be nice to him—he's having a hard time…"

Miles swallowed. Was it that obvious?

"Miss you pretty-boy," Lang said.

"Wait—I have a question about something…"

"That's ominous… What do you need to know?"

"Do you know Commander Potts?"

"Weps? Yeah."

"I thought Wellington was Weps?"

"Wellington works for Commander Potts. Those guys…"

"They don't like each other…?"

Lang chuckled, "Are you really asking me to tell you some shipboard gossip on a phone call I'm paying for?"

"Wellington said something about an op last deployment—"

"Oh geez Miles…. I'll send you an e-mail, okay? Wellington has been going on about this for months and months…"

"Besides Lieutenant Preston, who else was working the admin piece?"

"I'm not sure, Miles… I'll find out who the AO was last year, and I can probably get Cali to get you a list of the awards clerks—the issue was not with ship's admin. It was a Flag Level award."

"I see…" Miles ran a hand through his hair, "How come you never said—"

"Because I'm not upset about it," Lang laughed, "I'll send you an e-mail—I'm not going to waste my minutes talking about this—I still have to call my mother on Sunday."

Miles smiled, "Thank you Shi-Long."

"You're lucky you're so pretty…"

Miles rolled his eyes, "Okay, have a good one."

"You're so pretty I sometimes wish you were a girl…"

Miles shook his head, "Save your minutes Shi-Long."

"And Miles," he added.

"What?"

"Call your boyfriend…. You don't wanna lose that one. He's so pretty I wish I was a girl…"

"Goodbye Shi-Long."

"Bye Miles…"

He sat on the hotel bed with the phone in his palm after Lang had hung up and stared at the wall and the deepening light of afternoon. Smiling about Lang's comments.

Shi-Long is right…

But he's out walking where there's traffic. Where was he?

You worry too much…

He should be resting…

Miles tapped his chin with a frown and stood to gaze out the window at Pearl Harbor. Unfortunately he was only able to see mostly base and less of the water.

You remember that boy when you look at him… But do you really know who this man is? Were those few furtive touches in the dark and one night in a foreign port enough to bridge the gap?

'I love you more.'

Phoenix always says that—but how can he be sure?

Be nice to him… Lang's chiding echoed in his head as Miles found his eye caught by the stark green of a waving palm leaf against the impossibly blue Hawaiian sky.

This will be perfect…

Miles called him back feeling some trepidation but desperately hopeful.

Phoenix sounded harried when he answered the phone, "Hey Miles I'm sorry—there was a car accident at the front gate of my apartment complex…"

That wasn't what he'd expected.

"You're not hurt?" Concern flooded his mind.

"I saw it, but I wasn't in it…," Phoenix had that casual tilt in his voice now, the one he used when he was insisting that Miles not worry, "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…" He had to, riiiiight.

"Was there no one else around to call?"

"No—I don't know maybe…" Now he sounded irritated.

"Is something the matter?"

"Uh, yeah," Phoenix hesitated a moment then said, "I know the guy who was driving."

Miles swallowed. Okay? He couldn't think of anything to say in reply before Phoenix continued, "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."

He went to the hospital with this guy?

"You went to the hospital with him?"

"Miles, it's Laurence—Laurence Williams," Phoenix's voice had a slight edge now.

"I don't know who that is," Miles frowned, why would he go with him to the hospital?

"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 shook his head, that really doesn't explain why he'd go with him. They were just co-workers, right?

"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…"

He was coming to see Phoenix?

"Phoenix," Miles couldn't control his rising ire, "You didn't have to go to the hospital with him."

"Miles, I know him—we flew together—"

Does that matter so much?

"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…?" Phoenix sounded confused all of the sudden—or maybe he was feeling guilty.

Surely Phoenix wasn't seeing someone else? Miles, for the life of him couldn't remember who this Laurence Williams was.

"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…" Oh you flew together… So that makes it okay? How is that a reasonable argument for this? Wait… Is this why…?

"Is that why you volunteered to take Engarde's spot in the VFA?" Miles closed his eyes—you shouldn't have said that.

"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…" He has a point.

"I said never mind, Phoenix…" Miles felt a twinge of fear grip at his insides—this was suddenly going very badly.

"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…"

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

"No," Phoenix sounded angry now, "No Miles… Don't hang up on me…"

Miles swallowed, he was at a loss now.

"You know how much this is killing me? I'm a training Divo right now… In the biggest fucking fighter squadron in the Navy…"

Stop him. He's going there. You've hit a nerve.

"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…"

You hurt him.

"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…"

Now he's trying to hurt you back.

"You have no idea about the sacrifice—"

You've seen what it does to him.

"Don't be nasty, Phoenix…"

Who's being nasty?

"Or the fraternity—"

This needs to stop.

"Let me call you tomorrow…"

"Don't hang up on me Miles…"

"You're angry," We shouldn't keep this up while we're angry.

"Don't hang up on me Miles…"

We'll say something that we'll regret—

"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, he shook his head and sighed.

Call him back.

Miles' gaze found those palm leaves waving cheerily against the sky above the base.

Call him back before it's too late.

Miles swallowed hoping to keep the rising fear and guilt at bay.

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

He didn't need this right now.

Call him back…

He hesitated several minutes more. Feeling his panic rising, worried about what had transpired.

This is like the last time we talked at the NEX in Borginia…

Miles sat on the bed and swallowed again, staring at his phone.

This is so much worse than that day in Borginia…

Miles called and it rang until the canned female voice told him he'd reached the voicemail box of this number and invited him to leave a message at the tone.

"Nick, I'm sorry…. Just answer the phone…"

He hung up and dialed again.

"You've reached the voicemail box of 757-382…"

"Please answer the phone…"

He hung up and dialed again.

"….at the tone, please leave a message."

Why won't he answer the phone?

Miles paced the conference room the next morning, watching the sun rise in the gorgeous Hawaiian sky. He hadn't slept. He didn't find the sunrise all that appealing in his current state.

He'd put on his khakis for a change of pace, but it did little to help his mood. It was after seven now, and he forced himself to sit and log into the government laptop RLSO had signed out to him.

Lang had e-mailed him the translation he'd asked for and he opened the file but couldn't focus enough to read it. Lang sent a second e-mail explaining the confusion about an award presented the previous year, Miles only skimmed it.

I'm broken and useless…

He wasn't sure how many times he tried calling him, but Phoenix never answered his phone. Eventually, the robotic female voice started telling him that the voicemail box was full.

What were you thinking? The issue is, you weren't thinking…

Miles left his e-mail and walked over to the window.

He wasn't really sure. So he wasn't ready to mourn again. Phoenix had been very understanding last time. He'd even attempted to reach out.

Miles chuckled, remembering the little notes Phoenix had left for him. Water birds and flying fish. Song lyrics that Miles had never heard before.

Be patient…

Miles stuck his hands in his pockets and walked a circuit around the conference room. RLSO had transcription software installed on the laptop. It wasn't perfect, but it was much easier to make a few corrections than to transcribe the recordings directly. That's not something he normally did. Normally, his legalmen did that.

Miles pulled out the recorder and ran the input cable into the computer. It showed up as a new volume on the computer and he copied over the files he hadn't transcribed yet. This was tedious. But it took his frenzied thoughts off of Phoenix while he ran the software.

Mike showed up at about eight fifteen after Miles had converted all of the interviews into text files and was finishing corrections on the first one. He had headphones on and didn't notice Mike until the Special Agent patted his shoulder. Miles saved the document he was working on and pulled the headphones off of his head.

"Morning Miles," Mike said, "What time did you get in?"

"Six," Miles frowned, "But the CDO didn't come to unlock the building until almost seven."

Mike looked at him inquisitively, eyebrows raised, "Is it because of all of the interviews? Maybe we can get a couple of LNs to help out?"

Miles frowned, "No…. But that will be nice. I think they're starting to trickle in now."

"So any more thoughts on a 119 for Mitchell?"

Miles crossed his arms. He wasn't thinking straight, his mind was flooded with so many unnecessary emotions. Fear… Despair… Desperation…

"I don't think Mitchell is involved…"

Mike shook his head, "We could wrap this up by Wednesday…"

Miles shook his head staring at the table. You could head home sooner—have enough time for Christmas in California.

But at the cost of a man's reputation… His career… Basically his life…

"Miles, you doing okay?"

They stepped out of the conference room minutes later, locking it behind them, and Mike led them to a food truck—lovingly referred to as the 'Roach Coach'. Mike ordered a couple of greasy breakfast sandwiches and two large coffees and they found an aluminum picnic table nearby and sat.

Miles had no appetite but he accepted the coffee gratefully and sat cradling the disposable cup in his hands. He stared blankly at the scratched surface of the table where someone had carved initials in a heart into the Navy blue paint, so that it stood out stark almost white. Mike unwrapped a sandwich and wolfed down half of it before pausing to look at him.

"If we're not going to pursue Mitchell, what do you have in mind?"

Miles shook his head absently, "I feel like we're close…. If we hadn't wasted so much time on the ship…"

"It's Friday, Miles," Mike said, "We go to trial on Monday."

"It's not right…" Miles protested half-heartedly—the argument wasn't new.

"What about her?" Mike slapped the table, "The family that's lost their daughter, their sister…. You want to drag this out for them too?"

Miles only turned away from him, "I should get back to work."

He stood and walked back into the building making a beeline for the conference room.

Don't you hang up on me Miles…

Commander Nielsen was another prosecutor at RLSO. Miles was introduced to him after requesting legalmen to assist in preparing the case. The Commander was friendly, candid, and seemed to hit it off famously with Mike. So he was sitting in the conference room while three LN3s reviewed the transcripts for accuracy, and Miles typed up his notes from the now battered legal pad that had come with him from the ship.

Then he reviewed the police files from Zeng Fa that Lang had translated. He updated his notes as he went.

"So, Lieutenant," Commander Nielsen smiled at him from the conference room table, leaning back casually in the office chair he was sitting in. It was on then Miles noticed that Mike had stepped out. Which was probably why the gregarious Commander was trying to engage him in conversation now.

"Sir?" Miles only spared him a glance before flicking his eyes back to the laptop screen.

"I heard you were a direct commission?"

"Yes," Miles replied without looking at him.

"What was your year-group?"

"2014–the end of 2014…"

"How long were you practicing before that?"

"About three—almost four years," Miles glanced at him and then went right back to typing his notes.

"Where at?"

"Federal Circuit Two," Miles said absently, "Southern District of New York—as a clerical assistant, and then a junior Prosecutor. I was admitted to the Bar in New York. Also, Federal Circuit Nine in Central California—that's were I joined the Navy."

Commander Nielsen eyed him in open mouthed shock, "Why? Why the hell did you join the Navy?"

Miles stopped typing and looked at him, frowning, "Sir?"

Why did you join the Navy?

Miles glanced at the laptop screen and then pushed his chair away from the table and stood, "I was looking for something different…"

"What, you don't like money?" The Commander laughed.

Miles smiled, "I wasn't quite at that level yet…"

"Wow…. You were admitted to two of the biggest districts in the States, and what? You just decided to walk into the recruiters office on day?"

Miles felt his ears warm abashedly, at the same time, the rushing thoughts of his last disaster out phone call with Phoenix came flooding back to him.

"More or less," Miles rolled his shoulders and stretched, "I wanted something different…"

Commander Nielsen laughed out loud, "Yeah, I'll bet you did."

Miles was already sitting and sliding his chair closer to the conference table to resume his work on the laptop. I did do this because of you…

He stared hard at the laptop screen but he couldn't type. The letters on the screen blurred and distorted in front of him and he had to bite the inside of his lip to ground himself. I thought we might cross paths…

"So what's this that Mike's telling me about how you don't want to accept a plea deal to get this guy on manslaughter—when it's going to be hell to prove it was murder?"

Miles clenched his jaw but didn't look away from the screen of the laptop.

"Because this isn't the right suspect," Miles turned to look at him, "We're close… but this guy isn't the one who killed her."

Commander Nielsen was suddenly shrewd, "Can you prove that?"

Miles shook his head, "That's not my job."

"Can they prove that?"

Miles glared at his hands, "I don't know."

"But you think you can find the actual murderer?"

Miles met the Commander's eye, "Yes."

Commander Nielsen stared at him for several drawn out moments, and then he smiled and shook his head, "I like you, Lieutenant Edgeworth…"

Miles' brow furrowed at that and abruptly, the Commander stepped out of the conference room.

A/N: If you're still with me, thank you!