(A/N: And here we are at the end of Part 2. Thank you all for coming along for the ride! Hope you had as much fun as I did!

I know there are still more issues to address, so making it a trilogy is not out of the question, but I'm not going to do so until I have a solid plot idea. So, until then...!)

Into the Dawn - Chapter Thirteen

Miles sighed in exasperation as his phone began to ring from the center consul, though the corners of his mouth tugged in the beginnings of a smile. He briefly moved his right hand from the stick shift to tap the screen in order to answer the call, leaving the phone where it lay as he spoke. "Yes, dear?" he greeted the man on the other end, pouring as much irritation and sarcasm as he could into those two words.

"Well, jeez, sorry to bother you, Mr. Grumpy!" Phoenix's voice was coming through the speakers of the car, this particular mode allowing Miles to both speak and listen without taking his attention off the road or wearing one of those irritating earpieces.

"I am on my way home, Phoenix, you needn't worry," Miles assured him. He always got this call when he did not return home from work before nightfall. Part of him was annoyed at Phoenix for being so overprotective, but that part was silenced by Miles' knowledge that there were true dangers lurking out here, especially now. "And I am also armed, as usual." In a subconscious gesture, his right hand went briefly to his left shoulder where he could feel the hard shape of the long knife beneath the fabric of his jacket.

"Okay..." Phoenix sounded a bit distressed, and his next words made it clear why. "I know I probably worry about you too much, but... there was another attack up in Anaheim just a few minute ago, and I just..."

Miles let out a slow breath, trying to keep his nerves calm. "No, I understand. I am lucky to have someone who cares enough to be so unbearably watchful." He paused, and a tense silence lingered until he spoke again. "...How many this time?"

"Only three, but... one of them was a kid. It looks like the ones that did it all got taken out pretty quickly, though... so we can at least be grateful for that."

Miles reached up to course his fingers through his hair, tugging slightly in frustration. It was terrifying, really, but the attacks hadn't been frequent or large enough to cause the country to descend into chaos... Yet. The same couldn't be said for some other places in the world, but those hadn't been stable to begin with. The revelation had not gone over as smoothly as optimists might have hoped, but it had not gone as badly as pessimists might have expected.

"Okay, I see your car. Meet you out front." With that, there was a tiny click and the call ended, allowing the soft classical music he'd been listening to fade back in. Miles was at least four hundred feet down the road leading to his house and it was dark, but he had long since stopped questioning Phoenix's extraordinary sensory ability.

As he pulled into his driveway, his headlights swept over the form of his lover, who was always careful not to sneak up on him while outside of the house; he was very grateful for that. Miles shifted into park and shut off the engine, picking up his phone from the consul and his briefcase from the passenger's seat before stepping out of the car. He walked toward Phoenix, and when the two met, they shared a kiss in greeting. "You see? I am quite all right," Miles said, taking a hold of Phoenix's hand to walk with him inside the house.

"I know, I know," Phoenix said with an unnatural sigh. "You really can't blame me for worrying, though. Your job was already dangerous before the shit hit the fan."

Miles hung his keys on a peg near the door, toed off his shoes to place in the coat closet, and then took his briefcase into his study to set near his desk, speaking as he did this. "No, I cannot blame you, but I hope you understand that - as it gets later in the year - it will be more and more difficult for me to return home before dark. With what has been happening the past few months, those in legal professions will be needed more than ever. Ergo, I cannot allow myself to abandon my work out of fear." When he straightened up after setting the briefcase down, Phoenix's arms encircled his waist from behind and pulled him into a close embrace.

"Yeah, I know. I don't like it, but I understand." He placed a kiss just below Miles' ear, a spot that always made him shiver. "I think that until everything starts calming down, I should start coming to the prosecutor's office after sundown."

Under normal circumstances, this would have been too much. Miles would have normally been fed up with someone who refused to let him out of their sight, no matter how much he cared for them. However, the past three and a half months had been anything but 'normal circumstances,' and the idea of having Phoenix nearby after dark actually sounded like a relief. Maybe then he wouldn't be so anxious all the time.

"So long as you don't interfere with my work or distract me, I have no objections," Miles agreed, trying to sound serious even as Phoenix started placing more kisses on the most sensitive parts of his neck, drawing out a voiceless moan from him and causing him to put more of his weight against his lover. He started to let his eyelids flutter closed, but a rumbling and slight ache in his stomach brought them open again.

"Oh, right," Phoenix said with a laugh. "It's eight o'clock; you're probably starving!"

Miles steadied himself and was then released, the two of them leaving the study to head into the kitchen. Miles began gathering together ingredients to make himself a salad with baked chicken, but once Phoenix saw what he intended, his lover bade him go sit down and relax in the living room while he cooked. Miles only put up the minimal amount of resistance for the sake of protocol, and then went off to collapse on the couch, taking off his jacket, cravat, and the knife he kept fastened to his left arm. With the loss of the spear Phoenix had given him, the silver knife that had been passed to him by that dying woman - whose name he'd never learned - was his new method of self-defense against any vampire attacker. He'd had no occasion to use it as of yet, but he'd done some practice draws with it while by himself, wanting to know he could use it if he needed to.

Miles clasped the ornate hilt of the knife and slowly drew it from its leather sheath. The silver blade glinted in the lamplight, having been long-since cleaned and polished. It was a beautiful weapon, but he simply could not look at it without going back. He not only saw the face of the dead woman - eyes blank and lifeless, blood streaming from her mouth to pool before her - but the faces of so many other dead. He saw the woman whose throat had been ripped out, the man whose tongue and arms had been torn from his body, the vampire who had started retching up blood while he fried from the inside out. However, the blood and gore that was strewn across his memory wasn't the most vivid aspect - not anymore.

Their screams still haunted his sleep, causing him to wake in a nearly inconsolable fit, to shake and weep in his lover's arms. He clearly remembered each of their faces, though he had only known one of their names. How cruel it was that those who had fought the hardest to survive had been the ones who'd died. The owner of this knife had passed quickly by comparison, but that did not make her death any more fair. He had also not directly known about Lt. Jones' fate, but when he'd gone to give his statement to the police and FBI, he had inquired and been told she had been killed. The other four... The two gunners, Christina, and that young man who had discovered a way to break the electronic locks... He was sure he would never forget the sounds of their deaths for the rest of his life.

Every time he remembered, the same thought always wormed its way to the forefront of his mind: what right did he have to be alive when those who had fought the hardest had all died in agony? Sure, he had organized them and given orders, but Miles knew it was the soldiers that won battles, not the high-ranking officers behind their desks. Leaders were necessary, of course, but the outcome had made him feel ultimately like he'd just used those people as meat shields to save himself. That had not been his intention! He had never been the most selfless person, but he truly had hoped everyone there would get a chance to see the sun again - figuratively speaking for some.

He knew the name for what he was feeling: survivor's guilt. He knew it was just another part of his growing list of mental and emotional issues. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder was something he had lived with since the age of nine, though he had never been formally diagnosed. Manfred von Karma would never have considered putting him in counseling for it, as he would have viewed seeking such help as a weakness - a mindset many people shared. This included Miles himself, though he was aware that such was probably not a healthy view to hold. Especially after what he had suffered last winter and then the incident at the compound, Phoenix had urged him several times to seek professional help, now that the existence of vampires was no longer a secret.

He had thus far refused every time, and a few times, he had regrettably lashed out at his lover, who he knew was just looking out for his well-being. With a sick feeling, he recalled once when he had retorted with, "Well, why don't you seek help for your tendency to nearly kill me if I look at you wrong!?" Though he had apologized profusely for that blow - as it had been cruel and untrue - and Phoenix had forgiven him, he still felt awful about having said it. He wouldn't even allow himself to use his mind's state of turmoil as an excuse, though his lover seemed convinced it was responsible and refused to blame him for his outbursts. Miles knew it was really just foolish pride, and he wouldn't make excuses for that.

"Miles?"

The sound of his lover's voice heavy with concern drew Miles out of his reverie, and he found himself staring at his own face reflected - albeit distorted - on the surface of the blade in his hand. He swallowed and let out a shaky breath, sliding the weapon back into its sheath and setting it on the end table. He felt the displacement of air beside him before the cushion shifted and he was gently pulled into an embrace. He dropped his head against Phoenix's chest, and his lover was mercifully silent, just allowing him to relax and gather his composure.

After a while, Miles lifted his head and noticed the teapot plus a cup and saucer sitting on the coffee table. He managed a weak smile and slowly leaned forward to pour himself a cup. "...Thank you," he muttered as he brought the steaming liquid to his lips to sip it, staying hunched forward while he did so.

"Chicken's in the oven," Phoenix informed him, slowly running a hand up and down his back. "Just thought a little tea would hold you over."

Miles set the cup down and leaned back against the cushions, finally turning to look at the other man with the beginnings of a playful smirk. "Really? I merely thought you wished to show off now that you have finally learned how to properly brew tea."

Phoenix laughed, his hand now sliding down to rest on Miles' thigh. "Yeah, now that I can't drink it."

"Hmm..." Miles leaned forward again to retrieve his cup, taking a longer sip. He then set it back down and turned to Phoenix, placing a hand on the side of his face in order to turn it so their lips met. Miles parted his in invitation, and Phoenix did not hesitate to accept. Miles allowed the other man's tongue to roam around in his mouth for several long seconds, then slowly drew back.

"Mm, not bad," Phoenix remarked with a little grin of his own. "I can't wait to try the salad!"

A low laugh sounded in Miles' throat as he shifted back to a normal sitting position, laying his head against the back cushion. "By the way, I received a letter from the Bar Association today. They have granted me a hearing on November Third."

"Really?" He could see the look of mild surprise on Phoenix's face in his peripheral. "Miles, are you sure this is even worth it? It's not like I could ever stand in court again, unless they start holding trials at night."

Miles tilted his chin back down and peered over at the former attorney. "As I've said before, this is about your reputation, not just your badge. You still wish to act as a representative for your kind; thus, people must know they can trust you. As it stands, the last anyone heard of you was that you had forged evidence and then dropped off the face of the Earth."

Phoenix looked away, staring off at some point above the entertainment center across the room. "Yeah, I guess that's true... I mean... I did present forged evidence. There's no denying that. I was... pretty careless, but the situation was desperate... not that it's a good excuse." He paused, then looked back over at Miles. "So, you really think Kristoph did it, huh?"

Miles nodded with resolution; he had no doubts. "It could only have been Mr. Gavin, and I have been gathering evidence to support that truth. I am very close to tracking down his source as well; I intend to have a confession from that source by the time I stand before the Bar Association."

He saw a light flash in Phoenix's eyes, and then with a smile, the other man leaned in to kiss his neck, placing a hand over his heart. "...You're perfect. You know that?"

Miles tilted his head back and closed his eyes, lips slightly parted to release a soft sigh. He felt no need to say anything, so he remained silent and just enjoyed the affection. Phoenix was never short of such praise and sentiment, and Miles wondered how he had gone his whole life without such things: he was spoiled now and he knew it.

They sat in silence for a while until a series of beeps from the kitchen signaled Phoenix to return to his task. Miles was left to relax for a little while longer with his tea, then was presented with dinner. He offered no protests as Phoenix popped in one of his "Steel Samurai" DVDs, having become much more secure with the idea of his lover knowing about and catering to that particular guilty pleasure. After taking care of himself from a very young age, Miles wasn't used to being pampered, but he was starting to learn how to just relax and let good things happen without suspecting some ulterior motive.

After eating and watching a few episodes, Miles caught himself nodding off on Phoenix's shoulder. With a grunt, he sat up and rubbed his eyes. "I believe... it is time for me to head upstairs..."

Phoenix chuckled and gave him a peck on the cheek. "Go on. I'll clean up and then join you."

Miles nodded and got slowly to his feet, covering a yawn as he made the trek up to the master bedroom. He changed out of his suit, washed his face, brushed his teeth, combed out his hair, took his iron supplement, and then crawled into bed: his nightly routine that made it just a little easier to settle in. Shortly after, Phoenix appeared and lay down behind him, pulling him into a close embrace. "Comfy?" his lover asked next to his ear after lightly kissing it.

"Mm," was Miles' only response. He was quite tired after another long day, but he could not yet bring himself to go to sleep. Something had been on his mind for months now, and he had decided earlier that day to bring it up tonight. He had no expectations for how this conversation would end, which made him anxious. "Phoenix, there is... something I wish to discuss with you... something rather serious..."

"Okay." Phoenix rested his chin on Miles' shoulder. "What's on your mind?"

Miles took in a deep, shaky breath to brace himself. "Back in that compound, while we were being held prisoner-"

"Miles-"

"Let me finish." He had to pause, to take another breath to calm down before plunging ahead. "There was a woman I spoke with while there... Her name was Christina, and she was bonded to the Chief Councilor. She... did not make it out, but before we were all taken upstairs, she told me more about... the bond..."

He fell silent for a time, just waiting to see if Phoenix would say anything, and he didn't have to look back to know his lover was tense. When no interjection came, Miles continued, feeling as though he was walking out onto paper-thin ice. "She told me what that joining involves, along with the benefits and consequences for both sides..."

"There are no consequences for the vampire involved," Phoenix corrected him in a stiff tone.

Miles swallowed. "Y-yes, well, i-in any case, I... have been unable to stop thinking about what she told me, and... the future we face... otherwise." He cursed his nerves for making his voice tremble, knowing Phoenix would not miss it. Of course, his lover probably would have sensed his unease even had he remained steady. "I have come to truly trust you, Phoenix, and while I am... dubious about the idea, growing old without you just... Well, it... I hate the very thought of that..."

Slowly, Phoenix began to shift their position. He removed himself from around Miles and gently rolled the prosecutor onto his back so that he was looking up into intense blue eyes. "Miles, the very fact that you are - as you put it - *dubious* about the idea of the bond means it won't work right now. And, even if you weren't... I would tell you that it's probably way too early in our relationship for something like that."

Miles drew in his lower lip and averted his gaze. "Y-yes, perhaps, but..."

"Despite the fact that we've both been basically in love with each other for years, we've only been this close for about four months." Phoenix leaned down to kiss his brow. "I know you're worried about what's going to happen as time passes, but just think about it for a second. What do you think of couples who get married after only going out for a few months?"

Miles considered for a moment and frowned.

"Exactly," Phoenix stated. "You think they're freakin' idiots! Now, if this woman really told you all about the bond, you know that it's much more binding than a paper contract and some spoken vows. It is literally 'until death do us part.' Don't get me wrong: the idea of spending eternity with you is... Well, it sounds like a dream come true for me, but we have to give this some time before I can accept you making a decision like that. The last thing I want to do is take advantage of you, Miles, and I'd feel like you'd be asking me to if you offered to bond."

Miles exhaled and closed his eyes, trying to calm his racing heart. "...Y-you're right, I just... If we wait too long to make that decision... I might be condemned to live as a forty or fifty-year-old man for the rest of eternity."

Phoenix chuckled, and though Miles had been completely serious, he felt it took some of the tension out of the situation. "Well, maybe we don't have to wait that long. I'm sure four or five years should be enough to see if you can put up with me. I don't see you getting old in the next five years as long as you let me take care of you a little, to help with the stress."

Miles let out another long breath, but this time he actually felt himself relax, Phoenix's words lifting some of the weight from the massive load constantly on his mind. "That sounds reasonable," he muttered, opening his eyes to meet his lover's once more. "However, I will hold you to the task of keeping me young. Do not fail me, Phoenix Wright." The corners of his mouth twitched up into something of a playful smirk, which Phoenix quickly covered with a kiss after laughing.

"Will do, but you have to agree to listen to me when I tell you to stop working so damn hard and chill out for a while, okay?"

Miles gave a melodramatic sigh of exasperation. "Fine, fine, if you insist."

Phoenix lavished him with a few more kisses while combing his bangs out of his face, then tucked the blanket in tighter around him. "Now, get some sleep. I'll be right here with you all night. I love you, Miles."

"...I love you, too," the prosecutor murmured, laying his head to the side so that he was facing his lover, so that Phoenix would be the last thing he saw before falling asleep.

It was a great relief to no longer have the burden of secrets on his shoulders, secrets of nocturnal predators and Phoenix's whereabouts and fate. He had, however, traded that burden for others; thus sleep did not come much easier. On many nights, Miles truly believed that Phoenix was his only solace, that the cost of vampires stepping out of the shadows and into the dawn, so to speak, had been so high it had left him unable to stand on his own. Maybe that wasn't true. Maybe he wasn't giving himself enough credit. However, he had no desire to find out. To survive in the days to come was going to take strength and resolve, and for that he would look to his partnership with the man who now held him. To stand alone in this world now surely meant death, and if nothing else, Miles owed it to all those who had already been sacrificed to live on and fight with whatever means he possessed.