trace (vestiges)
It is over.
It is done.
Miles feels faint. There is simultaneously too much to process and nowhere near enough time to even begin to unpack exactly what has gone on over the past three days.
The victim was Maya's mother, Misty Fey. The murderer was Prosecutor Godot- real name, Diego Armando, former defense attorney and lover of the late Mia Fey- carried out in an attempt to protect Maya Fey, the only tie to his love he had left. He had killed Misty after the woman had channeled the recently-deceased Dahlia Hawthorne in an attempt to stop Pearl from channelling Dahlia in her stead, the little girl only following orders innocently from her convicted mother-
His head spins as he leans forward in his seat in the stands, feeling humiliation and bile rising into his throat, only to be tamped down mercilessly by the cold, unyielding horror which threatens to consume him from head to toe.
The woman standing upon the witness stand… that had been Dahlia Hawthorne. Even after all of these years, he can still remember the acid in her voice as her true self comes to the surface; without a doubt, the person standing there had been her.
And then, it hadn't. Her face had transformed, shifted, hair coming undone, anger fading into that familiar, bumbling innocence which he knows so well. Maya had been all that was left.
Dahlia's execution had been at the start of January. It has been a month since she was hanged for poisoning Diego Armando. So how…
Mia Fey had joined Phoenix at the defense's bench, counselling him and calling out Dahlia's lies. Rather than her usual suit, the woman had worn a tight-fitting acolyte's uniform, her hair tied up with the same lilac bauble which Miles had put into her hair that morning. That body had been Pearl's.
It does not make any sense. It has been nearly three years since Mia Fey had died, murdered in her- now Phoenix's- office. Her trial had been the case which had brought Miles and Phoenix back into each other's lives.
Spirit channeling… it is real.
He watches numbly as Phoenix breaks down Godot's reasoning methodically, wearing the prosecutor down the same way which he had torn down Miles' defenses time and time again in the courtroom. Miles cannot find a single thing to say as the judge declares Godot guilty for the murder of Misty Fey, naming Iris as an accomplice. He can scarcely breathe as he watches Maya collapse from the sheer exhaustion of having channelled such a malicious spirit for days on end, with Mia, trapped so uncannily in Pearl's body, follow Phoenix out.
It is all utterly absurd- so absurd, in fact, that when he watches Iris boldly apologize for hurting Phoenix all those years ago, and then confess her love for him, he suddenly finds that the jealousy which has been absolutely consuming him for the past few days wilts away into nothing. Is there a point in it anymore? Is there a point in any of this?
…he knows that it matters. Maya is safe. Pearl has not been made a murderer by her own twisted mother. Misty Fey has died knowing that she protected her daughter to the end, and Diego Armando has managed to find some kind of peace in the world. Phoenix has changed all of these lives for the better by finding the truth.
Miles still cannot feel his knees, however. They wobble too much to support his weight.
It is Franziska who helps him up in the end. "Come, little brother," she murmurs, her lips pressed into a thin line. An absentminded part of him wants to wipe the corner of her mouth, where days-old lipstick has congealed and begun to crumble; his fingers find no strength, though, as she continues, "You should go greet your precious Wright. He has won… this time."
Mutely, Miles nods, allowing her to guide him to a precarious upright position. They stand in the viewing seats at the side of the courtroom, and the other members of the public have already mostly filed out by this point; there is naught surrounding Miles but wave after wave of uncertainty and doubt, self-hatred and frustration, anger and bitterness-
"You look ill, Miles Edgeworth."
Miles bites the inside of his lips, holding back the protests which long to spill from his mouth. He does not want to begin this argument now; unfortunately, a strong hand grips his bicep, squeezing in silent warning, the other gloved hand resting menacingly upon the hilt of the shining whip poking into view.
He sighs, gulps, struggles to get his breathing under control. Then, he whispers, "Misty Fey channeled my father after his murder. That is how the wrong man was accused." Smiling bitterly at the younger woman, he spits, "Where was justice then?!"
Franziska's eyes widen, her mouth falling open slightly. Her fingers, stern and unyielding, turn to putty, easing off his arm with the slightest nudge. Limply, her arms fall to the sides as she takes in what he wants to say.
If Manfred von Karma had been brought to justice during the DL-6 Incident, who would have raised the toddler Franziska von Karma?
His head aches, his heart, doubly so. Groaning, Miles massages his temple, draws a deep breath, and tries to raise himself up slightly. "Enough of this," he says lowly. "Wright has won. We should congratulate them."
Silently, his sister nods, and the two of them make their way to the defense's lobby. They are well-met; eventually, he and Franziska are able to exchange words with Gumshoe, who had brought Iris here from the mountainside. Miles catches a look at Mia Fey's summoned form before she turns back into Pearl, the little girl rushing off somewhere in a tizzy. Maya does not hesitate to light up and launch herself at Miles, having previously been uninformed about his return to America. He returns the embrace with as much vigour as he can muster, but he must admit that this reunion tastes far less sweet than he had thought it would.
Phoenix stares at the door to the lobby. His eyes do not stray; focused and expansive, infinite possibilities play out within large, black irises, an impossible amount of potential futures flying through his heart, clear as day upon his sleeve. Miles can only watch.
Iris and Phoenix were genuinely together. Dahlia was never really a part of his life.
Phoenix has his closure now. He knows the truth- they all do.
Miles had thought he would be happier about all this. Instead, all he can focus upon is Phoenix's forlorn gaze and the memories of his father's murder, forever stained by a fraudulent spirit medium.
…He is tired. It is over. And he still feels empty at this resolution.