trace (vestiges)
This final meeting presenting the state of his new plan to the members of Congress passes in such a blur that Miles can scarcely remember it when it is finally over; all he knows is that it is done, and now, the waiting game continues. The media coverage has painted his pleas for a fairer system as a sympathetic one thanks to the truths revealed about his own accusations from the late Manfred von Karma, lending Miles more support than he sometimes feels like he deserves. Still, he accepts it without complaint, for soon enough, he shall be able to finalize this seven-year-long debacle.
Seven years. It is so strange to think that this much time has passed since that fateful court case, but… here they are.
When Miles' phone rings, he thinks little of it. In fact, he is genuinely a little excited, a mild giddiness washing over him now that the last dregs of paperwork have gone through, all the pieces in place. All they need is a case-
"I'm the defendant of a case."
Miles does not remember going to the airport twelve hours early, nor does he remember screaming at the clerk to move him onto the next flight out. All Miles knows is that Detective Gumshoe drives him to Hotti Clinic rather than his own home or the Wright Anything Agency; all he knows is that he sees red as he strides through the doors, the detective flailing behind him as he tries to carry Miles' bags inside without locking himself out of his old, clunky beater. Miles pays no attention to the detective, barking out a command to get Phoenix's room number.
His vision only clears when he enters room 2512 in the northern wing of the hospital. Sitting upright in the bed is none other than Phoenix Wright, the man grinning sheepishly at Miles as if nothing is wrong, his beanie and sweatshirt and jovial nature offset by the IV drip going into his arm.
Miles does not speak. Instead, he merely drops his suitcase on the ground and, with no ceremony nor hysterics, sits on the edge of the bed, wrapping his arms around the other man.
Phoenix's smile does not waver as he murmurs, "I'm being accused of being 'Shadi Smith's murderer."
The prosecutor freezes, his blood running cold. For a long, quiet moment, he detaches from himself; his body shudders as his soul lets out a long, trembling sigh, eyes locking onto the beautiful, clear blue sky sending crystalline rays into the hospital room. It is such a lovely day unlike the dour clouds hanging over D.C., he thinks distantly- LA is always so stunning, so warm.
Phoenix's touch is cold as he grabs onto Miles' hand, pressing something small and metallic into his grip. Miles finally snaps out of his stupor, looking down at what appears to be a locket in his hands.
The locket opens. Whether it is he or Phoenix who opens it, Miles does not know; all that matters is that old hinges squeak open, and within lies a picture of the little girl whom Miles had brought into his heart seven years earlier.
"He… really was Trucy's father," he breathes, breaking his silence.
Phoenix's lip wobbles, but that smile- now strained and taut, lips uncharacteristically chapped and bleeding, his exhaustion evident on every pore- does not fade. "And now he's dead," Phoenix replies, voice high and keening and unnatural. "I didn't do it."
Miles stands, slowly extricating himself from Phoenix's grip. He still has too much energy- his anxieties from back when he was upon the plane have not managed to dispel themselves as of yet, so he must pace, move about, fidget, do something. Walking to the door and back, he folds his arms and begins to pace in that pattern, shoulders hunched, brow furrowed in aghast thought. "Then who?" Miles finally manages to spit out. "Phoenix Wright, what happened?! I knew you were going to meet him, but-"
Phoenix's eyes begin to shimmer, but his strong expression does not falter. The sight of it is a stab to the gut, causing Miles to stop mid-step. Weakly, Phoenix shrugs. "Not even the wildest part," he barks out through a stilted laugh. "You should see the kid I'm getting to be my attorney."
"It's not someone you know?!" Miles cries out, rushing back over to Phoenix. "You moron- I could pull strings, I could-"
"His name's Apollo Justice."
"That's a silly name, and I've never even heard of him before," Miles retorts, deadpan.
Phoenix shrugs again. "Makes sense. This'll be his first case."
Miles grows dizzy, clutching the edge of Phoenix's bed. "You get accused of the murder of your daughter's biological father, collapse, end up with an IV, and then decide that this is the best time to sponsor a rookie attorney?"
Phoenix's laugh is akin to some type of madness, the hysteria climbing with every passing moment. "He's Kristoph Gavin's apprentice," Phoenix says at last, holding his breath. He bites his lip as if some great punchline has been passed, as if knowing that Miles will burst into uproarious laughter at any moment.
Maybe I should get an IV, too, Miles thinks, collapsing back onto the bed as exhaustion catches up to him at last. He buries his face into his hands, flinching but not pulling away as Phoenix wraps his own trembling arms around Miles' frame. A part of him wants to pull away, wants to show Phoenix that the other man can be vulnerable, that Miles can take care of him, too-
But Phoenix is hanging on by a thread. Miles knows this, can sense it with every tremor shuddering through Phoenix's exhausted body. If Miles allows Phoenix to break, then what state will he be in for the trial in two days?
So, Miles does not pull away. Instead, he shrugs off his jacket and pulls out his phone, drawing his legs onto the bed to connect with Phoenix more comfortably. A single hospital bed is no place for two fully-grown men, but Miles does not care, merely glaring at the nurse who passes by with a rebuking look. All that matters to Miles is that Phoenix is given exactly what he needs to pull off whatever scheme he must be planning, seeing as to how he has chosen Kristoph Gavin's apprentice, of all people.
Trucy picks up on the second ring. Miles explains the situation softly, promising to take them both home to Trucy soon enough. The teen merely hums and murmurs to "be safe". Miles does not push her on the phone, agreeing, then goes off to find a nurse to begin Phoenix's checkout now that his IV drip is almost done.
When they arrive at Miles' home, Trucy greets Phoenix first. Helping the man up the stairs, Miles and Trucy get the weary man ready for bed. Only once Phoenix is laying down once more with a book in his lap does Trucy pad downstairs once more, entering Miles' open embrace without hesitation.
"We're going to figure out what's going on, Trucy," he promises into her hair, holding her close. He knows what she wants to hear, and he has no problems supplying those words to her. "We're going to find out what's going on. Your father is innocent." With even more conviction, he adds, "Soon enough, Phoenix Wright will be declared innocent, and after that, he'll be a lawyer again. Trust me."
She merely cries in silence as she takes in his gentle reassurance, clutching onto him even harder. They both know that Miles has never lied to her.
Soon, however, Miles' words die in his throat, blocked by a clog that refuses to go away. A part of him wonders if she can sense it- the death of her father. Miles does not ask, though. All that matters now is that they keep her true father safe, no matter the cost. Miles will do anything.