trace (vestiges)

Although the attorney says nothing, Miles can see it; Phoenix is silently stressed about something or the other, the man getting up every few minutes to shuffle about Miles' office and move a singular chess piece, or to examine Miles' artwork and framed blazer, or to simply move behind Miles and wrap his arms loosely about the prosecutor's neck for a moment. He does not speak, so Miles does not ask him anything; he is used to Phoenix's incessant, silent demands for physical contact, and by now has grown so accustomed to the other man's need to just touch him that he barely reacts whenever strong arms hook loosely around his shoulders. He merely continues to work, checking his emails and his phone as Frederik updates him on and off about happenings in Germany.

After the fifth time this strange motion happens in the span of half an hour, however, Miles must put his foot down. "Okay, Wright, what in the world is the matter with you?"

Instantly, Phoenix splutters and tries to deflect; as Miles crosses his arms, leans back in his chair, and raises a deadpan brow at him, the attorney can only sigh in defeat. "I… yeah. Okay. I just…"

"Spit it out, Wright," Miles murmurs, beckoning Phoenix over from where he stands at Miles' grand bookshelf. Immediately, the attorney obeys, brow creasing in gratitude and relief as he moves over to perch upon the edge of Miles' desk. Miles gestures for the other man to speak, so, Phoenix flushes, grits his teeth, and finally lets out what he has been holding in all day.

The moment the words are processed in Miles' fatigued brain, all he can do is laugh, removing his thin-framed spectacles in utter disbelief. "Are you truly worried about that?" he chuckles, reaching out to grab Phoenix's hand. "Really?"

Phoenix pouts and grumbles under his breath, but he does not pull his hand away from Miles'. "I just- yeah. Look, you always text him, right?" he insists, gesturing towards Miles' phone. "I've just been thinking about it a lot, I guess."

Miles' laughter softens into a rueful, tender smile. "I suppose that would be disconcerting," he murmurs, holding up his phone to Phoenix. The last few days of conversation with Frederik has been naught but him sending updates on a random drop-in visit by Franziska, Miles' younger sister causing havoc in the formerly-orderly office without hesitation nor shame. He does not fear Phoenix reading these messages.

After all, Frederik has not brought up his request to bring Miles back to Germany since that initial request. He knows Miles needs time.

Phoenix's grin grows rueful, gentle, as he scrolls through, chuckling as he reads aloud the odd text here and there. "This sounds like he's a good guy," he murmurs when he is contented.

Miles squeezes Phoenix's hand. "I… never really had good mentors," he replies softly. "I am grateful to have found one in law, even if it is a little bit late."

A strange rush of emotion plays across Phoenix's face, leaving Miles mere seconds to decipher it- a mix of anger and loss, of pity and understanding, of frustrating and regret, all dance in Phoenix's tormented eyes. "Even though all you had was von Karma," Phoenix says slowly, intertwining their fingers together, "I'm glad he made you a prosecutor. That's how we got the chance to meet again."

Miles presses his lips together, looking away. It is true; had they both been defense attorneys like Miles had always intended for himself, he may never have met Phoenix again.

It's… strange, thinking that he has something to thank Manfred von Karma for. I suppose this, and my relationship with Franziska, he relents silently.

Before he can say anything else, Phoenix adds, "I get what you mean, though. On how important mentors are." His eyes mist over in nostalgia, vacant and fond. "Mia taught me everything. I told her I wanted to be an attorney and she ran with it. She didn't have to, but… she believed in me."

"Just like she believed in her clients," Miles agrees softly. "I feel like the one time I actually fought against her in court, it ended poorly- for that, I am sorry." To Phoenix's surprised expression, he explains, "She was brand-new. I barely had a few trials under my belt. There were… come complications in the proceedings." He shudders as memories long-since repressed slowly begin to see the light of day once again in his mind. "Nor was I the kindest man."

Phoenix rolls his eyes. "Yeah, I bet, considering how you were when I was a rookie-"

"Oh, you're different," Miles huffs immediately, dropping Phoenix's hand and shooing him off the table.

Snorting, Phoenix complies. Rather than returning to his seat upon the sofa, however, he pauses, one hand reaching out to brush Miles' long bangs out of his eyes, moving to cup his face. "You… he's your Mia?" That's it? his eyes add silently.

Miles chews his lip. Should he say? Would explaining his strange start with Frederik only plant seeds of doubt within Phoenix's heart?

After a few heartbeats, he finally relents. There is no point keeping secrets; he knows this well. So, he sighs and admits, "Frankly, I've only ever seen him as a mentor. He initially thought I was… er… propositioning him-"

"What?!" Phoenix cries, eyes wide and panicked.

"-but the moment I told him about you, he's been nothing but supportive. You know that."

For a second, Miles worries whether Phoenix believes him or not, the attorney's face scrunching up in thought. Then, thankfully, Phoenix relaxes, a reluctant but wry smile growing slowly but surely upon his lips. "He's good to you, huh?"

"And to you, as well." To Phoenix's questioning gaze, Miles adds bitterly, "I probably would've made our reconciliation a lot more difficult if it hadn't been for his advice, in all honesty."

To that, Phoenix can only laugh, the sound free of his previous hesitation. "In that case, I can't stay too mad at him," he concedes, "although I wish he'd stop texting you all the time."

For a moment, Miles can only pause, fighting to conceal his giddy amusement. "Jealousy isn't becoming on you, you know."

"It is when you've apparently got some handsome older man waiting to snatch you away-"

"Well, if anyone should have been worried, it's me-"

"Why me-"

"How many women are always in-"

"They're children-"

"Maya is Franziska's-"

"Maya's a child-"

"But Mia-"

"Was like an older sister, dear God," Phoenix groans good-naturedly, throwing a spare pen at Miles. The prosecutor dodges, mildly aghast by the projectile.

Then, he pauses. "She… was like an older sister, Wright?"

Phoenix stops in his tracks. Pauses. Closes his eyes, breathes in deep, then looks up at Miles as he settles back down on his tracks. "…yeah. Maya always tells me that Mia sent her to the office to make sure I'm okay, because she thought I needed looking after."

They are quiet, turning back to their paperwork. Finally, Miles murmurs, "…I'm glad you have Maya." To fill the space Mia has left.

Phoenix beams. "I'm glad, too."

And with that, they get back to work- at least, until Frederik's next message lights up Miles' phone, and Phoenix begins to threaten to yell at the foreign prosecutor for interrupting their work session. Miles cannot help but laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. As he calls Detective Gumshoe into his office to escort Phoenix home, the attorney protesting the entire way, Miles' smile never once fades- and when he makes a show of turning off his cell phone that night as he and Phoenix finally settle in together, alone, Phoenix's smile is contented at last.