Note: Thank you all so much for reading and reviewing the last couple of chapters. I'm sorry it's taken me so long to get back to Miles and his struggle to cope with the loss of his leg, but I hope there are still some interested readers out there.

This chapter isn't anything spectacular, really; it's shorter and less detailed than the previous two, but it was necessary for moving the characters around to where they need to be for the final act. I imagine the chapter after this one will be the last.

No great warnings for this one. Less angst than the first two, but still a little. Also, despite the scene at the end of the chapter, I tried to write the interactions between Phoenix and Edgeworth in such a way that you can take them as PxE or you can take them as friendship, either/or.

Once again, thanks for reading!

Begin Again

Chapter Three

It had been two weeks since Miles had agreed to spend a couple of nights sleeping on the sofa in what was once the law office of his rival. Upon his initial arrival, he had been more than certain that he would stay there long enough to quell Phoenix's worries about his living alone in his present condition, and then he would return home to his comfortable, familiar apartment, where he would begin to put all of this behind him.

But when he awoke to find himself mentally ticking off day number fifteen of sofa-sleeping, Miles realized he might not be telling himself the truth after all.

The truth wasn't something he wanted to admit to himself. The truth made him hurt in confusing and frightening ways when he attempted to do the simplest of tasks - such as sitting in his wheelchair. The truth woke him up in the middle of the night at the sound of his own inhuman whimpering, only to find Trucy's worried eyes and Phoenix's bleary ones peering at him in the darkness. And, worst of all, the truth kept him desperately in need of the company - and assistance - of others. He was at the mercy of his missing leg.

After the first five days, Phoenix had halfheartedly suggested that Miles return to his physical therapy sessions in the off-chance that they might help improve his mobility, and Miles had obliged, if only to prove to himself that he could learn to survive without Phoenix. The learning was a slow process. Miles loathed the idea of relying on a cane in place of the leg he lost, but found it easier than hobbling on crutches in most situations. Regardless, he practiced both options as well as wheelchair control every day, as the physical therapist took notes and barked orders at him. It was enough to make him desperately happy to return to Phoenix, Trucy, their sofa, and their overall kindness toward him, although not quite enough to make him admit to that.

"Morning, Miles!" Trucy chirped as her alarm rang on day fifteen. She rolled off the loveseat she curled on every night, stepped over Phoenix, who was still snoring loudly on the floor with an arm flung over his eyes, and headed toward the miniature refrigerator, microwave, and hot plate that served as a kitchen. "I have to get going soon, but I'll make you some eggs first, okay?"

"That isn't necessary, Trucy. I think I'm capable of making my own eggs," Miles replied, softly.

"I'm sure you are, but I'm already doing it!"

Sit up. That's it. Easy. Don't topple over. Miles mentally recited every move he made in the struggle to get up from lying on the sofa. Use your arms. Put your weight on them. And don't look. Move around and sit up - and don't look. That was the most important part of every moment of every day. Don't look. He didn't know what he expected to see where his leg ought to be, but he didn't care to find out. Don't look.

He let out a heavy sigh as he leaned back, and Trucy said, "Do you need painkillers?"

"I'm alright. Thank you."

Phoenix had insisted on doling out the heavy-duty painkillers only when necessary, and he otherwise kept them stored high on a shelf Miles had no hope of reaching without the ability to stand on something. Trucy went along with this plan without question, but Miles was more than a little irritated by it; he wasn't nearly the suicidal mess Phoenix must think him to be, and he needed those painkillers more often than not. But he chose not to belabor the point… even though sometimes he desperately wanted to.

Phoenix snorted suddenly in his sleep and his eyes flew open. "I smell eggs," he said, casting a crooked grin toward Miles. "Morning."

"Good morning."

"Daddy," Trucy called from the pseudo-kitchen, "don't forget I'm gone tonight, okay?"

"Crap," Phoenix replied as he scrambled to his feet. "I totally forgot, Trucy, baby - I'm sorry!"

"I thought you probably had. But I'll be back first thing in the morning, so maybe you two can manage here without me for just a little while?"

Miles craned his neck around to look at her seriously. He was not prepared to be left alone under the care of Phoenix; the man meant well, but he was hardly capable of doing anything for himself, much less for someone else. At least not without Trucy there to boss him into it. Miles frowned. "Where are you going, Trucy?"

"I've got a magic show gig! It's kind of far away, though, and it's probably not safe to take the train all the way back after it's over. So I'm staying with my friend who lives there!"

"Do you think this is really safe, Wright?" Miles asked. "She's a bit young to be traveling so far alone."

"I'm twelve, I can do it!"

"She's tougher than I am, Miles," Phoenix said, the ghost of a smile passing over his face. "Besides, the noodle guy's going with her."

"…the 'noodle guy'?"

Phoenix nodded and offered no more information. A vague memory of salty noodles in a hospital room flitted past. Miles sighed. "Why aren't you going with her? You're her father." The idea still did nothing less than startle him.

"She can do this. It's okay."

"That's a bit irresponsible of you. I should think you'd be more concerned about your child than this."

"I would be, if I thought there was any reason to be. It's not like this is the first time."

"This has happened before? Wright, I don't exactly think - "

"Look, Miles, can you just drop it?"

"You need to think about being a better father."

"We can't all be your perfect wonderful dad."

Miles stiffened and scowled. Phoenix flopped down on the loveseat that served as Trucy's bed and huffed, running his hands through his unkempt - but somehow still spiked - hair and staring at the floor.

"I'm sorry, Miles. That was out of line."

"It's fine."

"I know it's not."

"It is fine, Wright."

"Stop fighting," Trucy said, stepping between the two and handing a plate of scrambled eggs to each of them. "Eat breakfast and like each other again! I'll feel too bad about leaving tonight if you're just mad at each other."

Miles poked at the eggs and tentatively pushed a few into his mouth. Trucy's simple cooking always tasted good, but he hated knowing that he would ordinarily be capable of making so much more out of the same basic ingredients - if he could stand up long enough to do so. He stole a glance at Phoenix, who was in turn watching him.

"I really am sorry," Phoenix said quietly. "Your dad was great. If I could be half that kind of father - "

"I don't want to talk about this," Miles interrupted. "It's alright. Please, eat your eggs. They're very good. Thank you, Trucy," he added, and Trucy smiled brightly before shoveling the remnants of her food into her mouth and hopping up to continue her preparations for leaving. Phoenix and Miles sat in silence together until Trucy, complete with a bag packed full and slung over her shoulder, bid them "bye till tomorrow" and they both returned the sentiment. Neither of them mentioned Phoenix's parenting skills again.

Miles was unsurprised that lunch was a bowl of noodles, but he struggled to swallow each consecutive bite. The food wasn't setting well with him - and the painkillers, which he had opted to take the moment Trucy was out of the building, upset his stomach badly. He gave up halfway through the meal, and Phoenix had no problem finishing the remainder of Miles's food for him.

"You should be eating, though, you know," he said when he was finished. Then he stood up and held out both arms. "Come on. No more just sitting around on the sofa today."

Miles sighed and grasped Phoenix's arms, hoisting himself to a wobbling standing position with the added assistance. He hated himself for leaning a little too much on the other man. Phoenix gave no sign of noticing.

"Here's your cane."

"Thank you, Wright." Miles attempted to respond with as much dignity as he could muster, but he felt his face burning hot with embarrassment. Regardless of fifteen days of this, it never felt any easier to have to rely on Phoenix.

"There's no reason to be that formal. Just call me Phoenix. Or even Nick."

"I'm being respectful."

Phoenix barked a hard little laugh, and Miles thought for a moment that he saw the bare truth of what the once-vibrant man had become. "Respectful of what, exactly?"

The man I used to know, Miles thought; aloud, he said, "Simply someone deserving of respect." The only response was a snort, so instead of pursuing that line of conversation, he asked sullenly, "What are the plans for today?"

"You won't like the answer to that." Phoenix picked up a newspaper from the floor, blinked at it as though he'd never seen one before, and tossed it back down again. "So I think you should just go in the bathroom and take off your pants."

"…excuse me?"

"Go on." Phoenix waved a hand idly as he peered now at a discarded box that had once housed some sort of microwaveable food item. "I'll be right there."

"…I'm leaving."

"Eh?"

"I will most certainly not join you in the bathroom for… pantsless activities."

Phoenix frowned in confusion for a few seconds before breaking out into laughter. "Oh, god, Miles, not - no. No no no!"

"You have fifteen seconds to explain yourself."

"Okay, okay. I want you to go back there and take your pants off because you need to look at your leg. Or, you know. Lack thereof."

Miles's scowl quickly transformed into a snarl. "I will do no such thing."

"I know you've been avoiding it, but you've got to start coming to terms with yourself. You'll never heal - emotionally and stuff - if you don't. That's what they say on the talk shows, anyway."

"Precisely why I never take advice from talk shows."

Phoenix gave a distant smirk. "Too bad. I could pick you up and carry you in there if I had to. Or just strip you right here, if you'd rather."

"You wouldn't dare."

Five minutes and an elbow to the eye later, Miles found himself pinned unceremoniously between Phoenix's weight and the flattened springs of the worn old sofa, the too-weary blue eyes of the ex-lawyer shining surprisingly with the joy of victory.

He had never quite hated Phoenix as much as he did in that moment.