trace (vestiges)
Miles tears out of the Prosecutor's Office, breathless by the time he slams shut the door to his car. The world is a blur passed in only a few moments, it feels like; all he cares about is rushing up the steps of the imposing courthouse, striding forward without a care in the world for his haggard, frenzied appearance towards the indicated courtroom. His meetings had dragged on far too long; he had meant to be here by Phoenix's side the entire trial, but now, there was no way it could continue on-
A small, lithe body blocks his way. Immediately, Miles' hands fall upon Trucy's shoulders, the man bending down to look the young woman in the eyes. "What happened?" he asks, frenetic and harried.
Trucy shoots him a wink. "Well, of course Daddy's innocent!"
For a moment, Miles can only hold still, searching her face for the truth. When her expression eases to show clear relief, too, he sags against her, wrapping her up in a hug. Her top hat goes askew in favour of receiving a kiss upon her hair, the man breathing out a long, trembling sigh as he holds her close. Only when he has managed to muster enough energy does he pull away, readjusting her hat with years of practice before murmuring, "Alright then, Trucy Wright. Who was the guilty party? Did they figure it out?"
Trucy's smile wavers. "…Uncle Miles?"
He frowns, unease growing in his heart. "Yes?"
She looks up at him with a sagacity, a knowing, that unsettles him to the core. "Did you know," she breathes, "that Daddy met with Kristoph Gavin the day that man was killed?"
Miles' fingers freeze, digging into her shoulders for a moment before releasing her, trying to get over his initial shock. "I- I'm sorry?"
She sighs, shaking her head. "It was Kristoph Gavin. The attorney, remember?"
Instantly, Miles understands. The pieces of the puzzle are blurred, yes, but now they finally interlock, Phoenix's assuredness and focus coming to light amidst this information.
A chill runs down Miles' spine, fear and awe and incredulity mixing together into a heavy concoction. Phoenix Wright, you utter fool. You planned this, didn't you?
Trucy rocks back and forth on her heels, hands clasped behind her back as she moves to stand by Miles' side. After a moment, she collapses into him, giggling softly. The edge of hysteria in her voice does not go unnoticed by Miles. "Daddy's name is clear," she whispers. "The judge said sorry to him, y'know? He seems to like Daddy."
Miles' lip quirks into a soft, knowing smile. "He's a good man. You're a lucky girl."
"And you're a lucky man," she teases, blowing a raspberry up at him when he scoffs.
She is not wrong. Miles does not spend too much time rebuking her; after all, he wants to see Kristoph Gavin be taken away in handcuffs by the bailiff. Only then will Miles' heart be at ease, he thinks.
Once Phoenix is finished speaking to his young upstart attorney (who had apparently turned on Kristoph despite being his mentee without much hesitation, a fact which instantly improves his standing in Miles' book) the former defendant steps out, his hands tucked into his sweatshirt pockets, a crooked smile on his lips. Immediately, Trucy runs up to him; the two link arms and begin to chatter away, their words hushed and their smiles far too devious for comfort. Miles takes one look at them and sighs, relief and uneasy knowledge settling into his gut as he takes in the glint in their eyes. He has no doubts that something unsavoury had occurred during the trial, and honestly he wants no part of it.
It matters not. He knows that that night, Phoenix shall likely crumble in their bed, so Miles shall hear the story eventually. Then, he shall listen; for now, he has other things to take care of. So, he turns on his heel and leaves the courthouse, rushing back to the Prosecutor's Office for the second half of the meeting he had so swiftly slipped away from.
That evening, Miles' prediction comes true. Phoenix cries- long, slow, ragged sobs mix with tears heavy with seven years of doubts and betrayal and frustration. Miles does not fault him, does not judge him for it; he merely holds the other man close, reassuring him, promising him that their goal is closer than ever before. Phoenix's seven years shall not go unmarked, but those years will be discussed fully at a later date.
Phoenix sleeps fitfully that night curled up next to Miles. Miles, on the other hand, does not miss a wink of sleep. It is an incredibly restful night, knowing that Phoenix's name is cleared at that Trucy's father's killer has been brought to justice. Knowing that Miles' gift sent after the trial- a lovely little bouquet of monkshood and orange lilies and purple petunias, all arranged to support a single, powerful indigo gentian in the center- has arrived in Kristoph Gavin's prison cell only makes that rest all the more sweet.