Note: So, I got into the Ace Attorney games...
I love how Edgeworth comes back better in the second game, but it pains me that we missed out on all that good recovery and character development. And so, here we are. (Though, I swear, one day I'll actually let them move forward from there.)
TW: attempted suicide.
Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth chooses death.
"Mr. Wright! This is Gumshoe, it's Mr. Edgeworth, sir, I wasn't sure who else to call, but you have to come here right away!"
BANG!
Phoenix wakes up somewhere bright and bleary. Everything feels soft and distant, like through the city haze. But there's an ache in his foot that won't go away. He winces at the memory of the searing pain.
Something beeps, soft and rhythmically, next to his head. He blinks his eyes open against the light to find himself lying in an antiseptic white hospital room. Urgent voices drift in from down the hall, but his room is relatively quiet.
It's so quiet he almost could have missed the man sitting in the chair by his bed, a bright, wine red suit folded over the back. He's sitting hunched over, muttering quietly to himself, his sleek, dark hair in uncommon disarray.
"E-Edgeworth!"
Edgeworth jumps and quickly rights himself, straightening the ruffles over the neck of his waistcoat. "Wright, you're awake." He tears his wide eyes away from Phoenix. His voice is low and bitter. "... I'm sorry. Your… injury is my fault. This is another time you've been dragged into something on my account."
"No, no apologies," Phoenix says sharply. He's not ready to deal with any of this right now.
Edgeworth flinches. "I-I understand." He takes a shaky breath and faces Phoenix, his expression smoothed, but still unusually intense. "How are you?"
Phoenix shrugs against the pillow, letting out a little of the tension in his shoulders. "Fine, except for the pain in my foot. You should probably stay away from guns for a while." He means it as a joke, but it hits both of them a little too close to home.
Edgeworth turns away, pained. He really looks terrible, like he hasn't slept for more than just one night, his arm defensively across his chest, his knuckles white from gripping his elbow. Something wrenches deep in Phoenix, painful and angry, at the fact that things have gotten this bad.
"Are you okay?" Phoenix asks tentatively. "Have you been here since…?"
"Yes… Detective Gumshoe insisted on being the one to file the report."
At least that's one less thing to worry about. "Good. The last thing we need is another investigation."
Edgeworth winces and his grip tightens on his elbow. Very quietly, his voice strained, he says, "I was afraid you wouldn't wake up."
Phoenix gingerly reaches out to put what he hopes is a comforting hand on Edgeworth's arm. Edgeworth immediately stiffens at the contact, even through his silky shirtsleeve, but, miraculously, he doesn't pull away.
"I'm okay," Phoenix insists, trying without success to meet Edgeworth's eyes.
Edgeworth doesn't say anything, or move at all for a long minute. Phoenix can feel exhaustion looming, mingled with whatever medication he must be on, pulling him toward sleep, even as he struggles to stay present.
"Is there anything you need?" Edgeworth's voice jars Phoenix back.
He's looking at Phoenix with that same intense… look that Phoenix isn't ready to decipher.
"Anything I need?" Phoenix parrots back, his drowsy mind slowly catching up with his ears.
He doesn't think there's anything, except for rest and probably eventually more painkillers, but he stops himself short of answering in the negative. He doesn't want to think about what might happen if Edgeworth is left alone right now.
Instead, Phoenix asks a little too warily, "What would you do if I said no?"
Edgeworth glances away, painfully aware of what Phoenix is suggesting. "... Nothing… That is, I'll stay here unless you want me to go…"
"No, you should stay." Phoenix's grip unthinkingly tightens on Edgeworth's arm. "There's nothing else I need."
Edgeworth is looking at him askance, but he doesn't move from the chair at Phoenix's bedside.
As sleep takes him, Phoenix feels the warmth of Edgeworth's hand settling on his own and for just a moment he allows himself to wish it wasn't like this.
Phoenix wakes up again to the sight of Miles Edgeworth leaning over him in the half-darkness. He lets out a breath of relief as the familiar face chases away the fears lingering on the edges of his consciousness.
Not that Edgeworth's expression is exactly encouraging, and he shifts back into the chair at Phoenix's bedside with a start as he catches Phoenix's eyes.
"Good morning to you too, Edgey," Phoenix mumbles drowsily. "I'm not about to drop dead, y'know." It comes out less reassuring than he intended.
"It's almost midnight," Edgeworth corrects him, glancing down at his watch, probably to avoid Phoenix's eyes.
It's clearly nighttime outside the window, but the room is still half-lit; a hospital never sleeps.
"It's not even that late." Phoenix yawns. "Doing anything to bide the time?"
He tries to push a stray strand of hair from in front of his eyes - his spikes have certainly gone all flat by now - but it stays stubbornly on the edge of his vision.
He startles at the feeling of Edgeworth's fingers ghosting across his forehead, lightly brushing the hair aside, and then Edgeworth pulls away no less suddenly, looking away in what Phoenix assumes is embarrassment at his own unbidden sentimentality.
"I've been thinking," Edgeworth finally answers Phoenix's question, as though in an attempt at distraction.
Before Phoenix has the chance to decide if he wants to press further, a nurse comes bustling in with a cheery grin despite the hour. "Mr. Wright, it's good to see you awake."
Edgeworth startles away from Phoenix, to sit rigidly upright.
"Yeah… awake…" Phoenix gets out.
"Don't worry, I won't keep you up for long, we just need to get your vitals and give you another dose of your antibiotic. You're very lucky, Mr. Wright, the operation on your foot went as well as these things go and you should be discharged in a few days if there aren't any complications that come up. How much pain are you feeling on a scale of one to ten?"
"Two?"
The nurse notes it down and then holds out a sensor that clips on to Phoenix's finger. "It's nice that you have such a good friend to keep an eye on you. Have you noticed any change, Mr. …?"
Edgeworth has been sitting frozen, glaring at the other side of the room since the nurse came in, trying as hard as possible to look like an intimidating part of the scenery, but with his plan foiled, he reluctantly answers, "Edgeworth. And no, I'm not aware of any change except for variation in Wright's coherence."
"And he would know," Phoenix puts in unhelpfully. "If anyone could spot a contradiction, it's Edgeworth."
Edgeworth shoots Phoenix a glare that would frighten away half the police force and says disdainfully, "Contradictions are your expertise."
If Phoenix didn't know better, he might call it a compliment.
"Mr. Edgeworth, there are visitor waiting rooms and facilities, if you'd like to get cleaned up or make yourself more comfortable," the nurse says, not pointedly at all, as she removes the sensor from Phoenix's finger. "Mr. Wright, everything looks good, you're all set for now. I'll check up on you again in a few hours. In the meantime, I encourage you to get some rest, and if you need assistance, you can always use the call button."
Phoenix yawns as the nurse departs, leaving the room in relative peace and quiet. Edgeworth relaxes back into the chair. Phoenix's vision is getting dusky again.
"You can go clean up if y' want," Phoenix mumbles. "Just promise you'll come back."
"I'm here to see Phoenix Wright," a teenage boy declares, bursting into Phoenix's hospital room first thing in the morning - thankfully Phoenix was already awake.
"Hey! Wait up, Gary!" another boy shouts as he comes barreling into the room, nearly running into the first. "You're not the only one trying to save the professor!"
Edgeworth glances questioningly at Phoenix, who shakes his head, no less bewildered by the boys' sudden appearance.
Edgeworth stands in their way, almost like he's trying to protect Phoenix, probably giving them a glare that could cause a younger child to burst into tears on sight. However, the two boys stand firm.
They look like they're around fifteen, if Phoenix had to guess, both dressed in khaki shirts and shorts with a paw print logo over the shirt pocket. The first one is a little taller, with dark brown hair styled into tall spikes, and the second is shorter, and maybe a little younger, with messy black hair.
"Are you Mr. Wright?" the second boy asks Edgeworth. "The detective said you'd be here."
The first, Gary, interrupts him, "Don't be stupid, Ash, of course he is!" To Edgeworth, he says, "My grandfather is a famous professor. He's in trouble, and you're going to help him."
"Gumshoe," Edgeworth curses under his breath, barely loud enough for Phoenix to hear. To the teenagers, he says sharply, "Wright is in no condition to take on a client."
The boys peer around Edgeworth to look at Phoenix, lying in the hospital bed.
"You're Phoenix Wright?" Gary accuses, doing his best to sidestep Edgeworth. "I don't care what 'condition' you're in. I was told you're the best there is, so you're hired."
"Are you sure he's the famous lawyer?" Ash says. "He doesn't look any older than Brock."
"Hey!" Phoenix protests. "I'll have you know I've won every trial I've been in, I'm just… incapacitated right now."
Edgeworth gives up trying to hold the teenagers at bay and instead points out, "You've only had five clients."
"Six! If you count defending myself…"
Edgeworth shoots him a look that's suspiciously like a glare.
Phoenix finally pushes his pride aside. "Edgeworth is right, I'm not in any state to take on a case right now. I couldn't even get to the courtroom."
"You can tell your no-name friend it's none of his business," Gary says.
"But the detective said if anyone could turn around a hopeless case it would be you!" Ash insists. "The professor may have signed that stupid confession, but he wouldn't kill anyone!"
"If he signed a confession, the case is over," Edgeworth says grimly, not meeting any of their eyes.
"Not necessarily," Phoenix says, "Lana Skye was found innocent, and so were you."
Edgeworth's pained expression only deepens.
"And you'll do the same for my grandfather," Gary says.
Phoenix sighs. "Tell me exactly what happened."
"The stupid police say that my grandfather bumped off another scientist two nights ago by the crocodile enclosure."
"But he didn't do it!" Ash exclaims.
"Of course he didn't, you dolt."
"It happened by the crocodile exhibit at the zoo?" Phoenix asks, to clarify.
"Yup, we're interns at the Kanto Zoo," Ash says proudly. "We help out the scientists by cleaning up the exhibits and setting up food for the animals. Well, I do all those things, Gary mostly hangs around."
"That's because you're a loser," Gary says. "If you were cool like me, you wouldn't waste your time cleaning cages either. I do a more important job showing the visitors the coolest animals."
"What about the crime? Did either of you see anything?" Phoenix vainly attempts to keep them on topic.
"Why would I hang around with some old fogies?" Gary crosses his arms haughtily over his chest.
"I came into the zoo to work in the morning like every day," Ash says, "but there were police officers everywhere, and they said the professor had already been taken away!"
"Do you know if the professor would have had any motive to kill the victim?" Phoenix asks.
"Of course not!" both boys insist.
"Wright," Edgeworth interrupts, glaring at him, "you're not going to take this case. As you said, you can't even go to the courtroom."
"Someone has to defend him! And with a signed confession, defense attorneys aren't exactly going to be lining up," Phoenix says.
"He signed the confession. Why are you so quick to believe he isn't guilty?"
"I've told you!" Ash interrupts. "The professor wouldn't kill anyone!"
"I want to at least hear him out, if I can," Phoenix says. "Edgeworth, would you be willing to go to the courthouse to ask the judge to postpone the trial?"
Edgeworth turns away. "He won't be pleased to see me. You must have heard about my probation."
"You'd better listen to your boss or you'll be in even more trouble," Gary taunts.
Edgeworth turns his most frightening glare on the boy.
"I-I'm not his boss," Phoenix says. "It's the sort of thing I'd send Maya to do, but she's back in the mountains to finish her training."
"Fine," Edgeworth says, not looking at Phoenix. "I'm not a prosecutor any more, anyway."
Not long after he leaves, a particularly strong-willed nurse manages to shoo the two boys away, giving Phoenix the chance to catch up on some more much needed rest.
Phoenix is glad he can't see the state his foot is in. It hurts a little, but mostly it just feels weird, and he knows it must look worse. However, Edgeworth is watching intently as the nurse wraps it in a fresh bandage.
"How does it look?" Phoenix can't help but ask, even if he's not sure he wants to know the answer.
Edgeworth's gaze flickers over to him for an instant, and the hesitation tells Phoenix everything he needs to know. "... I've seen worse." It's not a promising answer either.
"That bad?"
"I've seen much worse," Edgeworth amends grimly, which is slightly better.
"You'll need to change the dressing regularly," the nurse says, giving the bandage a final tug. "Be sure to keep the area clean and dry, and don't use any lotions or antibacterial cleansers; they'll stop it from healing. You'll want to cover it when bathing, at least for the first couple of weeks, until you're cleared to take off the dressing, and be careful not to let it soak, or it may reopen the wound."
Phoenix is sure his hair must be a mess, but the thought of trying to bathe is a nightmare. He can imagine it; standing under the water balanced on one foot, while trying to keep the other out of the spray. He's not sure he'll even be able to move around his apartment on crutches, let alone take care of anything.
He realizes with a sinking feeling in his wallet, "I'll need to hire someone to help me."
"If you live alone and can afford it, it's recommended. You'll need to be careful not to move around too much or put too much pressure on your foot, and it's good to have someone around in case you fall or experience any other complications."
"I'll take care of it," Edgeworth says, so quickly that Phoenix barely catches it.
"What? No, you don't have to pay for it, I'll find the money somehow," Phoenix insists.
"You don't have to hire anyone," Edgeworth says, still not meeting Phoenix's eyes. I'll help you. It's the least I can do."
The nurse glances uncertainly between them. "I-in that case, you've already seen how to clean the wound and change the dressing. You'll also want to keep the wound elevated when possible and, if there's swelling, you can use an ice pack for no more than twenty minutes at a time, to keep from damaging the wound further. Mr. Wright, we'll be sending you home with an antibiotic, which you need to make sure you finish the entire regimen to prevent infection, as well as a painkiller. For the painkiller, it's generally advised to gradually decrease how much you take as your wound heals."
Phoenix only half-listens to the nurse's advice, so it's probably a good thing that Edgeworth is clearly listening closely. Phoenix, meanwhile, is still stuck on Edgeworth's improbable offer.
As soon as the nurse is gone, Phoenix says cautiously, "I'll need a lot of help, and there isn't space in my apartment for two. It's just a studio."
Edgeworth has clearly thought this through already, because his reply is almost immediate, "You'll stay in the guest room in my apartment."
He sounds pretty certain about it, and Phoenix can't deny the appeal of staying with Edgeworth, especially compared with hiring a stranger.
"Thank you," Phoenix says.
Before he can say more, the nurse returns with the discharge paperwork.
Once it's all signed andl taken care of, the nurse helps Phoenix out of the bed, into a wheelchair, and before he knows it, he's being rolled through the halls of the hospital, out to the parking lot. Edgeworth's ridiculous bright red car is waiting for them, the trunk apparently repaired from being used to convey Detective Goodman's body, just a few weeks ago.
Edgeworth opens the passenger-side door, and then, before Phoenix can begin to try to figure out how to get from the wheelchair into the car, Edgeworth tentatively offers him a hand - both of them, in fact. Phoenix takes a deep breath and takes Edgeworth's hands. Edgeworth can barely look him in the eye, but his grip is solid as Phoenix pushes upright, tottering on his disused good leg. He clings to Edgeworth's arms to keep his balance and Edgeworth slowly, gently guides him to the car.
It's a slow, awkward dance. Neither of them knows what they're doing, but Phoenix trusts Edgeworth despite everything, and amazingly Edgeworth doesn't flinch away, even as Phoenix leans on him with all his weight. Somehow, Phoenix makes it into the car without slipping or hurting his foot, which counts as a success. He leans back in the possibly leather seat, already sweaty and tired, while Edgeworth goes around to the driver's side.
It's not a long drive from the hospital to Edgeworth's apartment. There, they go through the same dance of getting into the car, but in reverse, with the wheelchair exchanged for a pair of crutches that Phoenix has only the barest idea of how to use. Edgeworth is uncharacteristically patient, gently holding Phoenix until he's steady, and lingering beside him, watching grimly for any indication that he might fall as he takes slow, hobbling steps inside. Phoenix has never been so immeasurably grateful for the presence of an elevator and even then, by the time Edgeworth lets them inside his apartment, Phoenix is exhausted.
He only makes it as far as Edgeworth's plush wine red sofa, not so different from the one in his office. Phoenix will doubtlessly look around more later, but for now, his curiosity extends only as far as the living room; lined with crammed bookshelves, with a TV cabinet across from the sofa, and furnished in deep red and dark wood, with curtains to block the several-storey view. It's way nicer than Phoenix's apartment and even cozy in its plush way, with a few personal touches of the Steel Samurai variety, but it's too neat, like in a hotel or a showroom, with no evidence that anyone actually lives there.
Phoenix wakes up somewhere warm and soft and quiet, his only complaint a bad ache in his foot. All he hears is the muted, distant sounds of traffic. His eyes open not to the antiseptic of the hospital, but plush burgundy and dark wood in the amber light of the setting sun, and for a moment he wonders what he's doing sleeping on the sofa in Edgeworth's office. And then he puts it all back together.
Edgeworth, who must be the source of the blanket, carefully arranged over Phoenix so it doesn't get caught on his elevated, bandaged foot, is sitting fast asleep in an armchair by Phoenix's head. Phoenix gingerly swings his legs around to sit upright, trying not to disturb his foot or Edgeworth in the process. Edgeworth looks more peaceful than Phoenix has seen him in a long time, neither glaring nor pained, just resting, his chin tucked against his chest. Something aches deep in Phoenix's chest at the sight.
Phoenix hates to disturb him, but the pain in his foot is getting sharper, and that position can't be great for Edgeworth's neck.
Phoenix carefully scooches over to the side of the couch closest to Edgeworth and quietly calls to him, "Edgeworth, wake up…" He puts a tentative hand on Edgeworth's wrist, conveniently lying on the near armrest.
Edgeworth groans, and then his eyes open with a start. "W-Wright, what are you doing-?" His tone quickly changes from surprise to urgency as he too catches up to the present. "Wright, what do you need?"
"Some painkillers would be a nice start," Phoenix admits. "Then maybe some sleep in a real bed."
Edgeworth is already halfway out of the room by the time Phoenix finishes talking, and he soon returns with a few pills and a glass of water. "I shouldn't have slept so long. It's late for your antibiotic."
Phoenix dutifully swallows the large pills without too much trouble. Edgeworth goes to get him some more water and returns with a full glass and a plate with a piece of toast on it.
"You should eat something," Edgeworth explains. "Don't you dare get crumbs on everything."
"I'm not that bad," Phoenix insists, biting into the toast even though his stomach isn't so sure about it, sending crumbs flying.
Edgeworth just looks away.
"Sorry," Phoenix says through another, smaller bite of toast. "I can clean it up-"
"I'll take care of it later. How are you feeling?"
"Better, I think. Still tired, but if not for the smell, I might almost feel like someone who didn't just get out of the hospital."
"You can use my shower. It's bigger than the one in the guest bathroom."
Phoenix swallows the last of the toast. "Oh, thank you."
He still has no idea how he's going to clean himself off without putting weight on his foot or getting it wet, but the prospect of being clean again is pretty tempting, and Edgeworth would probably rather he didn't get almost a week's worth of grime on the clean guest bedroom sheets.
Edgeworth takes the crumb-dotted plate and leaves it on his otherwise untouched coffee table, and holds out his hands to help Phoenix up. Phoenix isn't sure how to feel about the fact that they seem to be getting the hang of the awkward maneuver. He's just glad Edgeworth's arms are steady, and he's a little reluctant to exchange them for an uncomfortable pair of crutches that he's still figuring out how to use.
"This is ridiculous," Phoenix says as he hobbles out of the living room, into the hall that leads to Edgeworth's bedroom, Edgeworth hovering after him, ready to catch Phoenix if he begins to totter. "I can barely stand on my own, I'm not going to be able to shower without help. I need to hire someone."
"With what money?" Edgeworth retorts, apparently on reflex.
"I'll manage," Phoenix insists, but he lets Edgeworth guide him through his wine red bedroom, into the white-tiled master bathroom.
"You shouldn't stay on your feet too long," Edgeworth says, his arm already out to help Phoenix sit down on the little dark wood bench in the middle of the bathroom.
Phoenix obliges, glad to give up the crutches, which are already hurting his shoulders even after such a short trip.
"It was part of the deal…" Edgeworth explains, looking pointedly away from Phoenix, as he rolls up his shirtsleeves, his suit jacket already discarded. "Detective Gumshoe insisted I not be alone after… It's only fair that I help you in return. … And I don't mind doing it… if you don't object."
"I-I'm going to need a lot of help," Phoenix warns him, though he's silently grateful to Detective Gumshoe.
"I know. The nurse recommended you not even shower for the first few days to keep everything dry."
Phoenix can't really argue with that; Edgeworth seems to have a much better idea of what he's doing than Phoenix does, at least, and to be honest, there's no one Phoenix would trust more. "O-okay, no objections here."
With a final glance at Edgeworth, Phoenix bites the metaphorical bullet and pulls off the sweatshirt he put on to leave the hospital. His pants are a little more complicated; he ends up hobbling on one foot again, leaning on Edgeworth's arm as Edgeworth looks pointedly away. And then Phoenix is sitting naked in the middle of Edgeworth's bathroom, and neither of them is eager to meet the other's eyes.
"You'll never be able to take me seriously in court again," Phoenix says.
"You don't need to worry about that." There's something strange in Edgeworth's tone that Phoenix isn't sure how to interpret.
"It was just a joke."
Edgeworth still looks a little flustered as he offers Phoenix his arm again so that they can reposition the bench. Between the two of them, they move the bench so it's backed up to the shower, and once Phoenix is safely seated again, Edgeworth hands him a bottle of fancy green tea shampoo to scrub away all the oil and hospital-smell that built up over the past few days.
Meanwhile, Edgeworth removes the showerhead from the wall and tests out the water. "Can you lean back?"
"I-I think so."
With his weight split between his one good foot, one hand gripping the side of the tub, and the other on Edgeworth's free arm, Phoenix manages to lean back over the tub just enough for Edgeworth to rinse his hair clean without getting too much water everywhere else.
The rest is comparatively simple. Edgeworth hands him a soapy washcloth, and Phoenix scrubs quickly over his arms and chest and stretches to reach as much of his back as he can.
"Let me."
Phoenix barely has time to register Edgeworth's words before the washcloth is out of his hands.
Very gently, Edgeworth presses the washcloth across Phoenix's back in neat, methodical rows going all the way down Phoenix's spine. It's hardly necessary, but it's nice; soothing and maybe a little exciting, though he knows he shouldn't think too much about that right now. When Edgeworth is done, he rinses the washcloth and brushes it lightly across Phoenix's back again to wash away the soap.
Phoenix is a little disappointed when Edgeworth stops and hands the freshly soapy washcloth back to Phoenix, so that he can finish up and scrub down his legs, carefully avoiding the bandage around his foot. A quick rinse by washcloth later, and Phoenix is clean and exhausted and his foot aches again.
"Why is everything so hard?" Phoenix gripes, his eyelids already drooping as he takes Edgeworth's arm to stand again and towel off properly before putting some clothes on, though it hardly seems worth the effort.
"It'll get better," Edgeworth says with surprising vehemence.
Then it's back to the crutches for a short hobble out of Edgeworth's bedroom and across the hall, to an office with a fold-out sofa that's been turned into a guest bedroom. To Phoenix, in that moment, it's perfect, and he's almost asleep before his head hits the pillow.
Phoenix wakes up with a jolt that nearly jars his injured foot. There's something wrong. It's dark; he can only vaguely make out the dark shapes of Edgeworth's desk and chair, crowded into the other side of the room to make space for the pullout bed. His foot hurts, but not that much more than before.
Then he hears it; a strangled cry coming from the other room. From Edgeworth's room.
Phoenix doesn't think. He throws off the sheets and blankets and swings his legs around, awkwardly maneuvering his injured foot off the pillow Edgeworth must have put there to keep it elevated. The crutches are standing in the corner of the room by the foot of the bed, just barely in reach under the assumption that he's too unsteady on them to be moving around much on his own anyway, but right now he doesn't have a choice. He manages to snag one with his fingertips, and the other goes clattering to the ground.
"Damn," he hisses.
"Wright! Is everything okay?" Edgeworth stands in the doorway looking faintly possessed, silhouetted in the sudden, overly bright hall light.
Phoenix drops the one crutch that he was using to "fish" for the other in surprise. "E-Edgeworth! I should be the one asking you; I heard shouting."
Edgeworth glances away. "I'm fine. What do you need?"
"I-I was just trying to get to you."
"With no regard for your own safety." Edgeworth glares at Phoenix like the whole thing is his fault. He looms over Phoenix, somehow still imposing in pink striped pajamas.
"I couldn't just lie here while you were-"
"There's nothing you could have done." Edgeworth turns away. "It was just a dream."
"... It can't be that nightmare again, right? You're innocent; we proved in court that it was really Von Karma all along."
But Edgeworth still won't meet his eyes. "It hasn't stopped the nightmares."
"What?" Phoenix demands, outraged at the universe.
"I'm sorry for waking you. You need the rest."
"No! You're not doing this again!" Phoenix is surprised by his own anger. "Are you really so proud that you'd even rather die than let me help?" He grabs Edgeworth's arm as though he might be able to pull Edgeworth around to face him.
"You've done more than enough for me already." Edgeworth says it quietly, but it cuts Phoenix to the core.
Phoenix's hand falters, but he can't give up, not now. "If there's any chance I might be able to help, you don't have to face it alone! Let me…"
"What?" Edgeworth demands.
Phoenix hesitates. "Let me be there, if you think it might help at all."
Edgeworth defensively crosses an arm over his chest. "Fine. If that's really what you want." He looks so tired, with an almost haunted desperation in his eyes.
He gingerly helps Phoenix up onto the crutches for the short trip across the hall, back to Edgeworth's room. The bed is in disarray, the sheets and blankets tangled even worse than on Phoenix's bed in the office guest room. Phoenix sits down while Edgeworth straightens the sheets. He doesn't really need help getting into bed, but Edgeworth busies himself with making sure Phoenix's foot is elevated and arranging the sheets just so, before joining Phoenix in bed, half-curled away from him, but closer than Phoenix expects.
Phoenix tentatively reaches out to rest a reassuring hand on Edgeworth's arm. "Is this okay?" he whispers in the quiet dark.
"Yes," Edgeworth breathes shakily, and Phoenix feels Edgeworth curl a little closer so he's only just brushing against Phoenix's side.
Phoenix takes that as a sign to hold on a little tighter, and he silently swears he won't let go.
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