Good Boy…

Notes:

The events of this fanfiction are heavily influenced by the sudden loss of my elderly cat just last week. This is my way of coping with the grief and loss.

Things started normally that morning. Gumshoe was due to take Missile for his routine check-up at the vet before they were both set to work on a case that involved narcotics with a side dish of murder – nothing out of the ordinary for a homicide detective and his canine partner. However, Gumshoe did wish to speak to the vets about possibly changing Missile's diet, as he had noticed that the dog was not eating as eagerly as he once used to. Despite Gumshoe himself having a poor diet, Missile had the best that money could buy – he was not but a responsible dog owner and the precinct did give him an allowance as Missile was a working animal, and so they provided food and all vet costs. So, Gumshoe always made sure that his diet was in line with what was recommended by the vets and despite what others may believe, did not feed him Samurai Dogs often – they were a rare treat, at best. So, when Missile began to turn his nose up at his food, Gumshoe made a note to speak with the vets as soon as possible.

Needless to say, he was upset to find that the routine tests did not come back as clear as they had last time. No, his bloodwork showed slight issues with his kidneys and that he had a possible urinary infection, which should clear up with a course of antibiotics and a slight diet change.

It took about a week, but soon Missile was back to his old self, wolfing down his food and acting as an excitable overgrown puppy. There were no visible, or internal changes on his next series of vet appointments and the nurses were happy with the dog's behaviour.

Years have passed since that time and there had been no further causes for concern.

It was early morning and Gumshoe had a day off. He yawned, dragging himself out of bed and forced himself to have a shower, praying that he would be lucky and able to have a full clean in hot water, rather than it turning cold partway through. Luck was not on his side. He grumbled, throwing on a well-loved shirt and devouring a slice of toast before washing it down with a lukewarm cup of watered-down tea. It was not ideal, but he soon discovered that a single teabag could make more than one warm cup of tea, saving him a fortune on the costs of warm drinks in the morning and evening. Coffee was his preferred beverage but when it was coming towards the end of the month, small sacrifices were usually made.

So, reusing teabags it was.

Ah yes, he can still recall fresh in his mind the look of sheer horror that crossed Edgeworth's face as he casually remarked about the cleverness of recycling teabags. Gumshoe wasn't sure whether it was because he mentioned using an actual tea bag, rather than fresh tea leaves, or if it was due to the multiple uses. He was still unclear to this day, however, he did notice that every month, without fail, the prosecutor would hand him a box of opened teabags, claiming that he did not enjoy the dull mediocre taste and that he would rather they go to a needy cause over being discarded in the trash.

"Gee, are you sure, Mr Edgeworth?" he would ask. "These look like mighty posh teabags – just look at that box, it's metal!"

"I would not even offer this tea to my maid, let alone to any guests that may decide to visit me. I figured that you are pitiful enough to accept these, however, you are more than welcome to discard them if you so wish to do so," Edgeworth would reply, pushing the box away as if being it its presence offended him.

Gumshoe would smile brightly, holding the box close to his chest and tell Edgeworth that he was looking forward to drinking like a king tonight before darting out of the office to store the bags in his locker. At first, he did wonder why Edgeworth would keep buying a brand of tea that he did not enjoy, however, he figured it was likely down to human error, possibly a mistake made with his grocery delivery.

Either way, Gumshoe was more than happy with a gift of expensive tea to take home.

Stretching his limbs with a loud groan of satisfaction, Gumshoe looked around when he noticed that Missile wasn't waiting by his food bowl, or that he had not even jumped up to greet him before he even had the chance to wake up. He turned around to see the dog laying curled in his basket, head lowered but his eyes were open and staring at his master.

"Hey, good morning, Pal! What are you still doing in bed - feeling lazy today?" he laughed, dropping down to stroke the dog and ruffle his ears. Missile whimpered and nuzzled into the hand stroking his head. "Not feeling it today, ay boy?"

Things continued like this well into the next day, which furthered worried Gumshoe. Missile was not eating, barely drinking and when he moved around the apartment it was at a slow and sluggish pace. They would go out for a walk but after ten minutes Missile would stop and lay down, refusing to move. In the end, Gumshoe had picked up the dog in his arms and carried him back home, worry gnawing away at him. It was concerning, to say the least, which is what he told the vets when he phoned up for an appointment. Missile had always been an exuberant dog but now it was as if something was missing – he had lost that spark in his eyes that he had whenever Gumshoe would pet him. He had even tried bringing a Samurai Dog home with him but Missile still refused to eat and it had gotten to the point where he would follow the dog around and place his water bowl near him, urging him to drink something.

That night, Gumshoe had slept on the floor next to Missile's dog bed. At first, he had taken the dog and put him on the bed with him, however, it was then that he noticed the slight wobble in the small dog's step and his worry at Missile falling off the bed outweighed his comfort of sleeping in a bed.

He got little sleep that night.

"You're really starting to worry me here, Pal," he said softly, running his hands through the soft fur and smiling softly at the rough tongue that licked his hand. "The vet will get you all fixed up though and you'll be right as rain before you know it."

He was awoken to a sound that would forever haunt his memories – the sound of Missile breathing heavily as he heaved, gasping for air and vomiting on the ground. He did this several times and Gumshoe quickly grabbed his water bowl and thrust it under his snout, begging him to drink. He did drink but proceeded to purge what little fluid he had in his stomach back onto the ground.

"We need to get you to the vets – now!" Gumshoe said in a panicked voice, quickly looking around for a blanket to wrap the dog in, as he worryingly noticed Missile was cold, and gently picked the dog up, holding him close to his chest as he rushed out the door and into his car.

He phoned the office and told them that he would be unable to come into work and then proceeded to phone the vets for an emergency appointment, only to get into a shouting match with the receptionist who informed him that there were no appointments available and that they would be unable to see Missile today, but that they could get him in tomorrow morning.

That wasn't good enough! Missile needed care now! He phoned up every vet in the nearby vicinity and if he still had no luck he would drive down the vets himself and get someone to see him by force.

Just as he was about to throw his phone across the length of his car, it rang a familiar tune.

"I'm sorry, Mr Edgeworth, I'm not working today and really need to-" he began. Under normal circumstances, he would love nothing more to acknowledge that the man he admired the most was calling him, however…

"Yes, I just spoke to the Chief of Police, Detective. How is Missile doing?" Edgeworth asked.

"He…he's really bad, Mr Edgeworth. I..I can't get him to eat or drink, and he's struggling to walk. I-I've never seen him like this and I can't get an appointment with a damn vet in this goddamn city!" he shouted, his voice breaking, tears threatening to spill as he glanced over towards Missile. "Not one damn appointment! I can't…"

"Listen to me, Detective – Richard. You need to remain calm. I will patch you an address to the vets I have Pess registered in. Go there and tell them that Miles Edgeworth has sent you and they will see you immediately. Have them do whatever it takes and do not worry about the costs."

Gumshoe nodded, not registering that he was speaking on the phone and that the other would not be able to see his reaction. "I…I can't lose him, Mr Edgeworth, sir…I can't…"

"Everything will be fine. Go to that address and they will see Missile."

"Yes, sir – thank you, sir," he said, biting his lip as he ended the call and saw the message come through from Edgeworth. Not a moment later, he started the car and sped off in the direction of the vets.

True to his word, the vets saw Missile Immediately when Gumshoe barged in through the door and announced his presence. He explained the issues with Missile and was told to wait in the reception area while they performed tests on Missile to try and diagnose his condition. No less than five minutes passed that the vet came out to him and informed him that they need to perform surgery and keep Missile in overnight, as well as take blood samples for further testing. The other option was not one that Gumshoe was prepared to do.

So, now Gumshoe was sat at home, waiting. He had contacted Edgeworth and informed him of what had happened at the vets and assured his superior that he would pay the hefty vet bill regardless, that the precinct would cover a small fraction, so it was all good…really.

The conversation ended and Gumshoe waited.

And waited.

And waited.

He had a restless sleep that night and the thought of eating turned his stomach. How could he eat when Missile had struggled so much?

Ring ring ring

He answered the phone.

It was bad news.

"Yes…yes, I…I will be there now. Thank you."

The detective slumped onto the sofa, the phone falling from his grip and falling to the ground with a soft thump. His shoulders trembled as he brought his hands to his face and sobbed.

"We're awfully sorry, Mr Gumshoe, but the test results have come back and Missile's kidney levels are too high. He would struggle through the night, so we believe the kindest option would be…would be to euthanize him…"

Gumshoe cried until his throat was dry and his eyes stung. Part of him didn't want to go down. He wanted nothing more than to be a coward and to run far away from his problems, but he couldn't – he needed to be there for Missile – it's what partners are there for. He needed to be there.

He moved in a daze and didn't even realise that he had even driven and parked outside the vets until he stepped out of the car and saw a familiar man standing by the reception entrance, wearing his normal magenta suit but minus the jacket and cravat.

"M-Mr Edgeworth? What are you doing here?" Gumshoe asked, hoping he didn't sound too ignorant and ungrateful – it was not his intention.

The grey-haired man looked forward with a soft, unfamiliar look in his eyes. "I had the vets contact me with updates. They told me about Missile. I didn't think you should be here alone, so I came as soon as I could."

Gumshoe nodded and smiled softly, quickly blinking away the fresh set of tears that threatened to fall. It was too real. He didn't want to do this but he was incredibly grateful for having someone with him, especially with that somebody being Miles Edgeworth, the prosecutor that everyone was convinced was heartless.

"Shall we go?" Edgeworth asked, placing a gentle hand on Gumshoe's shoulder and squeezing it.

Gumshoe nodded, afraid to speak.

Edgeworth took the lead and did all the speaking, gently guiding Gumshoe along to way. The vet was incredibly kind and soft-spoken as she lead them to a small room with a large plush basket on the floor and a plump sofa pushed to the very back. The room itself was softly lit and the décor that adorned the walls were soft messages of kind condolences as well as a painted tree that crept up the sidewall. Gumshoe and Edgeworth sat on the sofa as they waited for the vet to return with Missile.

Gumshoe exhaled loudly, causing Edgeworth to jump slightly at the sudden noise. He was about to speak when the door opened and the vet walked in, carrying a blanket with a small dog wrapped inside it. Carefully, she handed the bundle to Gumshoe and told them she would give them a moment, before leaving the room.

"Hey boy," Gumshoe said softly, smiling down at the dog who turned his head towards him. He smiled loudly upon seeing Missile looking up at him with a familiar glint in his eye. Over the last few days, it was as if his beloved companion had deteriorated before his very eyes and that the dog he was tending to was not the dog he knew and loved. However, now – right this second, Missile was back and looking at him with those big bright eyes and a mouth that could almost resemble a grin. "This is quite a fancy place here, so I know you were well looked after. I hope you didn't drive the nurses potty," he laughed, bringing the dog closer to his chest. He felt the sofa dip slightly as Edgeworth shuffled closer, extending his hand to ruffle the dog's ears and rub under his chin in a way he knew the dog loved.

"We got Mr Edgeworth to thank for the posh hotel stay here – he is a good guy after all, but you already knew that, didn't ya, Pal?"

Edgeworth snorted but remained quiet.

Missile whined softly, nuzzling into the hand that stroked him.

"I remember when you were just a wee pup. You were the runt of the litter and the Chief was furious because you didn't make the cut but I knew from that moment that you were the one. A little pup with big dreams of becoming a police dog…and you made it. You made me so proud. Nobody…" he trailed off, the tears finally falling freely from his eyes. "Nobody thought you'd make it but I always had faith in you. Same as me. Nobody has faith in me either but it didn't matter because I had something they didn't have – the best canine companion. So loyal, loving and just too damn adorable," he laughed. "You are the best friend I have and you've done wonderful out there – you've solved so many crimes and saved lives, including mine. You're a good boy, pal – the best. And I'm going to miss you so much but you'll wait for me, right?"

Gumshoe lowered his head and rested it against Missile. He was crying more and the soft lick to his face only made the tears fall harder. He could swear that he also felt a soft, warm hand run through his hair and down the back of his neck, and resting on the small of his back, but brushed it aside.

Gently he manoeuvred himself, placing Missile on the sofa and standing up. "I…I just need a minute, if that's…?"

Edgeworth nodded silently.

"Don't…don't let them."

"I won't, you have my word," he replied.

Gumshoe nodded and exited the room, leaving Missile and Edgeworth alone.

Edgeworth smiled, gently petting the dog. "In terms of police dogs, you weren't the worst. He will be lost to death without you," he said, using his head to nod towards the door. "However, I'll take care of him though, so you needn't worry."

Missile nuzzled into Edgeworth's hand, which caused the man to smile. "You have my word – I won't let you down."

Just then the door opened and Gumshoe walked back in, dropping to the floor in front of the sofa and resting his head on the soft pillow by Missile's head. Not a minute later did the door open again and the vet walked in. Edgeworth continued to stroke Missile's ears as Gumshoe wrapped his arms around the dog, burying his face into his fur.

They both remained that way until Missile fell into a peaceful sleep, even after the vet had left them all alone. After a while, Gumshoe sat up, his eyes red and blotchy but he didn't care. He gently unhooked the collar around the dog's neck and delivered a soft kiss to his head.

"Good boy," Edgeworth said, stroking the dog one last time and stood up. "Shall we go?" he asked, placing a hand on Gumshoe's shoulder.

Gumshoe nodded. "Yeah." He looked at the dog one last time, a sad smile on his face. "Sweet dreams, Missile. I love you, Pal…"