"Edgeworth. How am I supposed to answer that?"
"You could. . . tell me whether you return my feelings."
"It's not as simple as that. I do, and I always have, but I don't know you."
"Please explain, Wright."
"It's been years and I still don't understand why you. . . ran away. I didn't need to understand to be your friend. But now. . . explain it to me. Please. I can't love you as a stranger."
"What's there to explain? I told you, I needed to figure out what being a prosecutor meant to me, and I needed to do it alone."
"I would've left you alone if you'd asked. We all would have. Just, we didn't need the year of thinking you were dead."
"I. . . I'm truly sorry. I regret it with my full sincerity. I suppose I believed that you'd come looking for me. Just to check in on my well-being. Or if not you, someone. That's why I needed everyone to believe it was. . . impossible."
"You needed it so much it was worth plunging everyone you knew into grief for a year? Maya, Gumshoe, and me, and everyone who knew you in the court and in the police force? Try again, Edgeworth. You're not oblivious, and I want to believe you're not cruel."
"Perhaps I am. . . one or the other. The me of that time is made of shadows and madness, even to myself. I can only say that what I did. . . it was, quite literally, the only path I could see. At the time. And unbelievably, it made sense."
"You've said that before, and I've sat with it. Lived with it. Turned it every which way in my head. Argued with myself until it seems to take shape, only to dissolve like smoke. I know this feeling: Some key piece of the puzzle is missing. The crucial testimony, the decisive evidence. Please, explain it, and tell me the full truth this time."
Tell me the full truth this time.
"You know what I think, Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth? I think you're made of venom underneath that professional air. I think you were angry, as you had a right to be. But why—by God! Why did you lash out at those of us who were close to you? Why did you lash out at me?"
"It—it wasn't personal. It wasn't targeted at you—"
"Funny how the people close to you were the ones hurt most. You wanted to cause the same pain that you'd endured—yet those who'd hurt you were out of reach!"
"You mean Chief of Police Damon Gant and my mentor von Karma? But that's a strange idea, Wright. Those men wouldn't have shed a single tear. They would've mocked my weakness."
"So you settled for punishing those you could. Those who had failed you in indirect ways: those who allowed von Karma to adopt you, those who bungled the DL-6 investigation, those who enabled Gant's forgeries. Even Franziska for her childish imitations of her father's cruelty."
". . . I do confess I am bitterly disappointed with every one of those you named."
"But it didn't stop there. When you felt the most worthless, you sought value in causing grief, as if my tears were proof that you meant something. You've suffered pain and caused it. Are you even with the universe?"
"Wright—no—"
"Only, the world doesn't work that ways, does it? It doesn't make you even, it simply makes you cruel."
"To punish. . . to hurt. . . Is that really what you think of me?"
Is that really what you think of me?
"I didn't mean it as punishment, Wright, I meant it as relief!"
"How could you have ever thought that?"
"So you wouldn't keep me on as a charity case! Good lord, Wright. Three years had passed since you changed your career. Who were you before that? An aspiring artist and theater major and a talented one, with a bright career ahead. A safe career on the stage, surrounded by art lovers and enthusiasts, instead of violent criminals. With me out of the picture, you could finally go back to the life you wanted for yourself."
"I—the life I—what I wanted was for you to be in my life!"
"Yes, you would never have given up as long as I was alive, because you're so goddamned bright and loyal, and you're a shield for the whole world. And the truth is, you're good at saving people. . . believing me innocent with not a scrap of evidence in my favor. . . defending Lana in the face of her own confession. . . seeing Mia's purpose through even after her death. But every shield reaches a breaking point, and maybe I only wanted you packed away before you broke, because you sure weren't going to stop!"
"Ironically, it was your so-called death that broke me."
"Yes, I see that now. I saw that the moment your name reappeared in the paper, and I learned you'd gone right on being an attorney. . . ."
"Of course I did, you self-centered narcissist! It was the last thing I had that was a piece of you."
"Are you saying that just to sound like the hero of a romantic tragedy? You took no cases between Miss Skye's and Miss Fey's. Don't pretend you continued being a defense attorney for any reason other than to help your friend."
"I. . . What? Huh. Is that really how it went?"
Is that really how it went?
"I can say the same of you, Edgeworth. Don't pretend you ran away for my sake like you're the tragic anti-hero. What did you stand to gain?"
". . . Alright then. If not for your sake, then for mine. Would you believe I did it to get away?"
"To get away. . . from?"
"From the obvious, Wright. From my shame and my guilt and my utter humiliation. From the inquiries into my integrity. From the fear—no, the certainty—that I'd sent Darke to the execution chamber for a murder he didn't commit."
"Edgeworth. . . you didn't know."
"Neither did you, yet you were disbarred without a shred of incriminating evidence. I'm certain that if I'd stayed for the inquiry, I'd have been disbarred too."
"You might not have been. There was always the possibility of a better outcome—that possibility is what I'm always grasping for, every time I take on a client! Running away. . . that's like pleading Guilty and not even trying."
"Perhaps I could've escaped punishment by the inquiry, but Joe Darke couldn't. He was dead, wrongfully so, and should the inquiry find me not complicit, what difference does that make to him? I fled from his metaphorical ghost, and the others that surely would have been uncovered. And. . . and. . . ."
"Go on."
"From my mentor, Manfred von Karma."
"Edgeworth. . . ."
"Even in jail, his influence tailed me like a shadow. . . all that I am. . . all that I wanted. . . all that I ever was. . . my profession, my record, my forged evidence. . . even my dammed dress. I couldn't keep looking in the mirror and seeing. . . not my father, but his murderer."
"Edgeworth. . . you're not him."
You're not him.
"Let's try again, Wright. I'm sorry. I'm sorrier than I can ever say. I'm sorry for every day of grief that my attempt put you through."
"Wait a minute—your attempt—what?"
"My suicide attempt. Is that not what we're discussing here? The whole reason for your very justified anger at me."
"So this was a real attempt now. . . not just a journey of self-discovery?"
"It was with sincere intent, though the attempt was lacking. I'm a prosecutor, Wright, I understand as well as anyone what power lies in the wielded word. If I'd meant a year of soul-searching, I would have said that."
"Yet here you are, alive. What became of your so-called attempt?"
"I was a coward, Wright! Is that what you wanted to hear? I held the gun and failed to pull the trigger. I tied the noose and failed to take the step. I stood on the bridge and failed to take the leap. I held the pills on my tongue and failed to swallow. I tried and tried until I tired of trying, and so I lived, and here I am."
"Edgeworth. . . Miles. . . I—I'm sorry. . . I didn't know."
"Well, now you know, Wright."
Now you know.
"So which is true, out of all the stories you've told me? Which is the real version of events?"
"I hardly know myself anymore. But one thing I do know: I'm different now. Still cruel, still a coward, but someone who will never. . . ever. . . leave you again."
"How can I believe that? Because you said so?"
"Because people can change—people do change, even the most single-minded people like yourself. Look how you have changed."
"What is that look? What are you implying?"
"Because you—you were noble, and kind, and loyal to a fault, and you still are all those things, but you've done something I never have: You genuinely and knowingly forged an article of evidence."
"I—that bloody Ace was just a lure. I never claimed it was evidence!"
"And that is exactly the kind of convoluted reasoning worthy of Kristoph Gavin himself, the kind that got me branded the Demon Prosecutor. Tell me this, Wright. Did anyone tell you in words that the diary page was evidence?"
"I—I suppose not."
"Exactly. Eight-year-old Trucy Enigmar brought you that page and made no claims about it. You chose Mr. Justice to be your attorney, as Zak Gramarye chose you, snubbing Kristoph Gavin while knowing how dangerous he becomes. You sent fifteen-year-old Trucy Wright to deliver an article, heavily implied to be evidence, to her own brother. You are no longer just the Phoenix Wright I knew: You have Zak Gramarye, Damon Gant, and even some of Kristoph Gavin in you."
"And are you disgusted by what you see?"
"For the love of—it's not always about you! Tell me, Wright, what would you have done if you'd gotten Mr. Justice disbarred? Or worse, made him Gavin's next target?"
"I asked you a question, and I want to know the answer. Do I disgust you?"
"What—no! No. Wright. . . Phoenix. . . you could never."
". . . To answer your question, he wouldn't have. They'd never be able to prove it. I made it alone, and unlike Kristoph, I didn't have witnesses lined up to prove it."
"So he wouldn't have been disbarred. How would you have protected him from Gavin?"
"I counted on him being in jail."
". . . Phoenix."
"Miles?"
"That's quite a gamble you took, Phoenix. That's quite a bluff to stake a young attorney's. . . everything. . . as collateral. His career, his reputation, his idealism, and his life."
"Idealism will get you nowhere."
"It's not what it gets you. It's what it ignites in you."
". . . Miles. . . You're right. It was—I hardly understand why I did it myself. The only explanation I have is that after playing Kristoph's twisted game for so long, steeped in his eyes and his thoughts. . . He's unhinged, and I became unhinged too. After seven years, it was, literally, the only way I could see, and unbelievably, it made sense. In the moment."
". . . Phoenix. Do you remember, there was a time when being accused of forgery was the worst thing you could imagine? When you became a lawyer to protect my honor?"
"Miles! It was never just your honor. I wanted to see you."
"You were so young and idealistic then. Well, I'm sad and weary. Not at you, Phoenix—never. I'm miserable that the Dark Age of the Law drove you to this, to become the very thing you couldn't imagine me being. I'm miserable at the world for what it's done to you. . . and at myself for starting you down this path. But never at you. . . in my eyes you're the same. . . bright. . . beautiful person you've always been."
"Ha. It's been seven years, Miles, you don't know me anymore."
"You swore you were the only one who knew me after fifteen."
". . . Point taken. So I've been disbarred for forging evidence once, and I've forged evidence once. I guess that makes me even with the universe."
"As cliched as it sounds, two wrongs don't make a right."
"But perhaps two wrongs make me a Wright, or at least, the Wright I've become."
". . . Heh. You know what I see, Wright? This is who you've always been. And if unimaginable pressures bent you into a new form, perhaps I'd best learn that's no reflection on the steel of your character. You continue to shine brilliantly in my eyes, and you always will."
"Miles. . . maybe you're made of steel too, or whatever flowery stuff you just said. Whatever reasons you had for running away. . . I can't pretend I'll ever understand. But maybe I can trust that you had your pressures, as I had mine."
"Phoenix. . . ."
"Haah. I may not be even with the universe, but at least I'm even with you."
"That's too many words, Phoenix."
"What do you mean?"
"At least I'm with you."
I'm with you.
Author's notes: Oh boy, this has been a long time coming. Thanks for joining Phoenix (who is basically me here), while I interrogate Miles on that stupid "chooses death" thing which I never got over.
