trace (vestiges)

Although the name "Apollo Justice" still makes Miles doubtful, he does not object when Phoenix decides to hire the young man. Clearly the young attorney had some level of competency, to have been able to defend Phoenix and accuse his own mentor in order to find the truth. "Besides," Phoenix murmurs as he types up a contract while Miles cooks dinner for the trio, "I kind of cost him his job." The rueful guilt in his eyes is warranted, sadly. The Gavin Law Offices have dissolved due to Kristoph's arrest, meaning that Apollo is currently jobless. A freelance defense attorney is hardly reputable in the eyes of the public.

It is not sympathy that keeps Miles' mouth shut, but rather the nostalgic, gentle glimmer in Phoenix's eyes as he types away at his keyboard. Miles recognizes the look; he sees it every year as they spend the day with Maya to mourn, whether it is in-person or through a video call. September 5th is not a day either of them shall ever forget, and Maya looks more and more like her late sister with every passing year as they mourn the loss of the woman they both cherished.

"You want to help him how Mia Fey guided you," Miles comments knowingly as he sets out a plate for Phoenix.

Phoenix's crooked smile, accompanied by wrinkles which have become far more prominent around his eyes as of late, are proof enough.

So, Apollo is hired. Miles does not bother to go meet him- his own meetings keep him busy enough as he begins the slow transition to his future office- but in a week, he feels as if he already knows the young man. To Miles' surprise, it is Trucy who is the most excited about this new hire to the Wright Anything Agency; the teen tells Miles about Apollo with glee as she clings to the prosecutor, arms wrapped loosely around his neck as she hovers over his shoulder, watching him look over her recent history assignment. Although her enthusiastic description of the young attorney is distracting, Miles does not fault her for it. How can he, when this is the first person closer to Trucy's age who has been in her vicinity consistently for years? Albeit, an eight year gap is indeed quite a bit, but according to Phoenix, this new face treats Trucy well, so Miles has no issues that Trucy has found a comrade within the clumsy new attorney Apollo Justice.

The only person who doesn't like him is Pess, apparently. It matters little, though; Miles just takes the dog with him to the office daily instead of allowing him to stay with Phoenix and Trucy some days.

However, when Apollo begins to pick up more cases, Miles begins to feel a bit of concern. While she is indeed old enough to have a good head on her shoulders, her sixteenth birthday having come and gone, it still worries him to have the teenager gallivanting around the city with Apollo. Yet, even when he expresses his mixed feelings, Phoenix merely brushes him off, kissing his cheek and rubbing scraggly whiskers against Miles neck as he holds the prosecutor, reassuring him that she is in good hands. Just where is his confidence coming from? Miles wonders again and again, his curiosity growing more and more tangible in his gut as the days progress and Trucy comes home for dinner with more and more ridiculous stories to tell.

And one day, it finally clicks.

Miles enters the Wright Anything Agency with ease, finding an unfamiliar face leaning over the back of one of the sofas, looking over Trucy's shoulder at the chemistry workbook sitting in front of her. Around his legs, Pess marches in, immediately rushing upstairs to do whatever the pup will do. Neither of the young folk even register the blur of golden fur which passes them, their conversation carrying on as usual. Kindly, the young man points to the periodic table sheet beside the book, clearly explaining the topic to her. Surprised, Miles pauses in the foyer, silently hanging up his coat on the coatrack and looking over this young man carefully.

So this is Apollo Justice, he thinks distantly, taking in the attorney's visage inquisitively. The young man is surprisingly short, his lean frame neatly dressed in a red waistcoat and white button-up dress shirt; dun brown hair is slicked back out of a very young face, his large eyes strangely familiar. His sleeves are rolled up as he leans onto the back of the couch, skinny wrists adorned by a watch on one hand, a chunky, surprisingly-gaudy golden bracelet on the other. It is a strange ensemble, but the longer Miles watches, the more he must accept that he cannot find fault with this young man. He speaks to Trucy so familiarly as he explains the answer to her question, after all; no young man can be bad if they are this patient with a girl as bubbly and excitable as the young teen has grown to be.

Then, Trucy's gaze lifts, spotting Miles. Instantly, she brightens up and stands, rushing over to give him a hug and a kiss on the cheek. "Uncle Miles, meet Polly!" she announces proudly, pulling Miles into the reception area to stand before the young man.

Instantly, Apollo stiffens, recognition and awe flashing in his eyes. "Mr. Edgeworth!" he squeaks, flushing as deep crimson as his vest. Clearing his throat, the young man takes a deep breath and cries out in a painfully-loud voice, "I'm Apollo Justice, sir! I've heard so much about you from everyone, you're a legend! Pleasure to meet you!"

Miles winces at the sheer volume escaping tiny lungs, sighing internally. Of course he's an odd one. They all are. Still, he shakes the young man's sweaty hand cordially and replies in greeting before turning to Trucy, reminding her of her work. The young woman pouts and moves to cling to Apollo's arm. "I'm almost done, just ask Polly!"

Seeing them stand side by side sends a shiver down Miles' spine. The same hair colour, the same build, the same softness in their large eyes-

Swallowing down thick, chaotic words of confusion and fear, Miles plasters on a tight smile before asking, "Where's your father?"

"Mr. Wright is upstairs, sir!" Apollo squeaks, still clearly tongue-tied.

Nodding in thanks, Miles wishes them both luck before striding upstairs, heading straight to Phoenix's bedroom. Without hesitation, he walks in to find Phoenix sitting upon their bed, clad in only cotton pyjama pants with Pess curled up against his side; seeing Miles enter, Pess' tail wags lazily, tongue lolling out as he waits for his owner to come join them.

Phoenix's gaze lifts from the laptop on his lap, confusion and worry immediately flitting into his eyes. Miles does not know what to say to respond to his silent query- how can he possibly voice what is plaguing him?

After Phoenix's welcoming hand reaches out, however, Miles sighs, stepping forward to accept it. The former attorney puts his laptop to the side and shuffles on the bed, creating space for Miles to join him; wearily, Miles complies, resting his head upon Phoenix's shoulder as he nestles into his side, frenzied thoughts rushing through his mind nonstop.

"What's going on?" Phoenix asks.

Miles sighs. "Justice is downstairs," he mutters.

Humming in acknowledgement, Phoenix does not speak until it is clear that Miles is still lost for words. "So?"

"…Wright, him and Trucy…"

Miles does not need to look at Phoenix's face to sense the way his entire body stiffens in alarm, in discomfort, in fear. Large hands reach over Miles' back to the nightstand, grabbing onto his nightly journal; from within its dense pages, Phoenix extracts a familiar, folded piece of paper.

Silently, Miles accepts it, unfolding it to find the poster of the Borginian singer Lamiroir which Phoenix had shown him so long ago. "What of it?" he asks, confused. Sitting upright, he examines the page. "Wright, this doesn't-"

"I've been doing a lot of digging," Phoenix replies softly. "You know what I found out about her?"

The wave of fear which crashes into Miles stuns him to the core. "What?"

"Her name was originally Thalassa Gramarye."

Miles's throat seizes. If that is the case, then-

Phoenix continues, voice trembling, "Look at her wrists."

Obeying, Miles can only gulp down the bile which washes up into his throat as he spots a glint of ornate gold upon the beautiful woman's wrist underneath the sleeve of her cloak. It is a familiar hue- too familiar, too fresh in Miles' mind.

Before Miles can respond, Phoenix reaches over into the drawer of the nightstand, pulling out a small locket. He hands it over to Miles, murmuring, "Trucy gave this to me when we met, you know. Before you came to meet her. She said that her mother, Thalassa Gramarye, had disappeared a while back. She didn't know where her 'Mommy' was, so she gave me the locket for safekeeping."

Miles flinches upon seeing the picture within the locket. A younger version of the veiled singer stares up at him, her beautiful expression youthful and joyous, so similar to Trucy that it hurts. "I… I guess I was right about one thing," Miles breathes once air finally fills his lungs once more.

"What's that?"

Staring at Phoenix, Miles reaches out, cupping his stubble-covered cheek. Phoenix holds his gaze for but a moment before dropping it, brow knitting together too tightly for the man to be feeling alright. Gently, Miles uses his thumb to smooth away the creases in Phoenix's forehead. "So," he says, fatigued and reeling from these revelations, "you've adopted siblings then, is that it?"

"I haven't adopted Apollo," the other replies instantly, almost defensive. "He's an adult. Perfectly capable of taking care of himself."

"…you're sure about this?"

"No," Phoenix confesses. "But… you see it too, don't you?"

Only DNA testing would ever be able to prove it, Miles thinks, his arm wrapping around Phoenix's shoulders instinctively. Phoenix melts into his arms, the comforting, heavy weight of the other man easing some of Miles' dizziness as he thinks of the tangled mess the two of them have surreptitiously gotten into. The bracelet upon Lamiroir's wrist looks exactly like Apollo's bracelet, after all, and both the children downstairs look so similar to each other and to this woman in the image that it is truly unsettling. It cannot be just a mere coincidence- the singer's identity is proof enough.

Then, Phoenix adds the final nail in the coffin. "She… was a witness in Apollo's recent trial, you know. She's been through a lot- head injury and trauma left her without her memories. She's managed to rebuild some kind of life for herself with this pseudonym, but I've convinced her to get an eye operation to fix her sight. Hopefully, she'll be able to heal the rest properly afterwards, too."

"…do you want her to meet them?"

"I don't know. It is their choice- do Trucy and Apollo need a mother? Does she need her children? Would they benefit?"

After a long, quiet while, Miles jumps, feeling wet licks upon the back of his hand. Staring deadpan at Pess' goofy grin, he sighs, releasing Phoenix's shoulder in favour of holding his hand out to Pess. The dog immediately pants and lays his chin in Miles' palm, the adorable sight causing the two men to crack a smile amidst the turmoil wracking their hearts.

"Well," Miles says, resigned and rueful, "what's another child to add to the mess? I gave up the moment you brought Maya to me, after all. Bring him over to my place for dinner whenever you want, if you think he needs it."

The way Phoenix's expression relaxes, gratitude and joy and adoration welling up in his large, weary gaze, is enough to ease some of Miles' doubts. They've never been a conventional family. Miles does not mind it in the slightest- a ragtag group is better than isolation, and Miles does not mind helping Phoenix create a home for the children they've managed to take under their wing. It feels like the right thing to do, and Miles will trust Phoenix on this.

Besides, having someone else around to help Trucy with her chemistry homework would be very helpful. Neither Phoenix nor Miles have ever been the best at the natural sciences. Might as well put Justice to work.