For a little while, Miles said nothing, merely staring, slack-jawed, at the badge. Phoenix would have been tempted to giggle, the shock on his friend's face was so out of character. Then Edgeworth scowled, warping straight back into his cold prosecutor self.
"Don't be ridiculous, Wright, that's impossible."
He strode over.
"Give that here."
Before Phoenix had a chance to respond, he ripped the badge out of the attorney's hands. Phoenix pouted slightly.
I should take you out for some manners some time. My treat.
Miles, however, was staring at the badge, holding it up to the light, his eyes scrutinizing the tarnished silver with the same ferocity as a guilty criminal on the stand. He stared at it several seconds, the frown getting more and more angry – when suddenly, it disappeared entirely.
The prosecutor seemed to lose all his rigidness at once. His arms flopped down to his sides, the badge swinging from one hand; he seemed wobbly on his feet; his gaze was distant, staring at the floor but clearly not seeing it. His mouth was slightly open in shock, his eyes almost fearful.
Nervous, Phoenix took a step forward.
"Edgeworth? Miles, are you okay?"
The prosecutor laughed suddenly, a quiet, anxious burst of laughter. Phoenix took another step forward, now very concerned for his friend's sanity. As he reached out to touch the man's arm, Miles looked up, his expression incredulous.
"It's real, Wright. It's a fucking Secret Service badge, and it has my father's name on it."
The defence attorney's jaw dropped at the cursing – Edgeworth never swore, it was far too crude and common and not perfect enough for his way of life – but Miles didn't seem to notice. He ran a hand through his bangs, pushing them all out of shape, a crazy bird's nest on his head.
Phoenix was getting way too weirded out by all of this.
"Uh, Edgeworth? You're freaking the hell out of me. We've been working our butts off all day, let's just take a break, okay? Get some beer – or tea or whatever it is you drink – and chill out for a while, and we can get back to this later."
Edgeworth turned to look at him, and for the first time Phoenix was glad to see some of the old snarkiness in the man's expression.
"Wright, this is far too a serious matter to 'take a break'. If you weren't paying attention, I have just discovered my father was with the Secret Service."
Determined to hide his relief that Miles hadn't gone spontaneously insane, Phoenix merely frowned and stepped over to the prosecutor, reaching for the badge. He noticed that Miles instinctively drew his hand away before stopping himself and relinquishing it. Phoenix held the wallet and badge up.
"Well, are you sure? I mean, it could be fake. Like I said, he could have been, uh, roleplaying?"
I think that's what Maya called it, anyway…
"What I mean is, it might not be a real badge. I mean, how do we even know what Secret Service badges even look like? They're supposed to be secret, aren't they?"
He heard the prosecutor sigh, a sigh he'd heard in and out of court very often, whenever the prosecutor felt he had to explain something blatantly obvious to everyone except the spikey-haired defence attorney.
"Wright, the Secret Service is hardly secret. Most of the United States of America know what the badge looks like, it is on the media much of the time…even that blasted Wikipedia you so love."
"Hey, most of the articles are good! And you can tell when they've been messed with, anyway, because there's no such year as 'Dougie is a hobo'."
Phoenix returned the exasperated expression with a grin, before continuing.
"Okay, okay, so I don't know what a USSS badge looks like, so sue me-"
The smile he was being given smacked so clearly of Don't tempt me, Wright, that he barrelled on hurriedly,
"-I mean, that only adds evidence to my argument, if everyone's supposed to know what these look like, that means anyone with skill at metalworking could forge one, am I correct?"
He grinned, putting his hands on his hips in his 'triumphant' pose.
Yeah! Shoot *that* one down, Edgeworth!
The prosecutor merely looked amused.
"I concede your argument could hold water –"
Phoenix punched the air. Hell yeah!
"-in a high school debate, at least –"
He winced. Ow, harsh, Edgeworth! Can't you just admit I'm right for once?
"-but you are unaware of the fact that I, unlike most of the population of this country, have seen a real Secret Service badge up close, and recently at that. A forger would be hard pressed to fool me. I can tell you with absolute certainty that that," he pointed to the silver star, "Is most certainly the genuine article."
Phoenix looked back down at the badge with renewed interest, before glancing back up.
"Wait, where'd you see a badge before?"
Edgeworth was focused on the wallet, and spoke without looking up.
"It was evidence for a case. A secret service agent was found dead in his apartment, the badge was impounded. Turned out he'd been holding it going down the stairs, tripped, and one of the points stabbed him in the stomach, causing him to bleed to death."
The defence attorney winced, then looked back down at the badge. It was an unassuming little thing, tarnished and blackened after so long in damp and dark. It was amazing how it changed everything about Gregory Edgeworth.
"So," he asked, trying to keep his voice casual, conversational, "Uh, how and why d'you reckon your dad was…you know."
Miles looked bemused.
"I haven't the foggiest idea. I'm still having trouble coming to terms with the fact he was one. It completely contradicts his lifestyle – he spent half of it at work in the courtroom and the other half with me. How could he have been…"
He lapsed into silence, looking thoughtful. Phoenix coughed awkwardly.
"Yeah, I always thought that protecting the president was a full-time job…"
At the sound of Miles' sigh, he inwardly cursed.
Great, another lecture…
"The United States Secret Service, Wright, was founded to monitor, prevent and otherwise investigate crimes against the Treasury. The protective role didn't come until much later. In addition to guarding the President, they also protect other major figures, and perform other high-profile missions."
Phoenix discreetly hid his yawn behind one hand, then nodded, bored.
"Yeah, yeah. Let's just wonder why the hell your dad was one, especially if he was a full-time defence attorney and single parent into the bargain."
Edgeworth tapped his temple thoughtfully. Phoenix watched him with some amusement.
I wonder if he knows how stupid he looks, doing that.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
The finger suddenly stopped, resting gently against the vein. Miles' eyes were wide. He murmured something too quiet for Phoenix to hear. The spiky-haired man tilted his head.
"Sorry? Didn't catch that."
The man looked up, a determined gaze catching his own.
"The conferences. All those times that year, when I had to stay over yours or Larry's because father was heading out to a law conference? It was like that as long as I can remember, he'd go off several times a year for them. He'd never tell me about them afterwards, no matter how many times I asked, and he never gave me a reason why not. What if his trips weren't for law – at least in that sense – at all?"
Phoenix's mind was filled with sudden images of the nine-year-old Miles in fluffy pink pyjamas, lying on a camp bed in Phoenix's room, jamming a pillow over his head and complaining that the other two boys were making too much noise with their marshmallow fight.
He nodded slowly, licking his lips.
"Okay. So, we've established that your father was a Secret Service agent, and he probably used some old law conferences as a cover to go off on missions. Now we just need to know why he was an agent. No single dad wants to risk his life when his kid's not even into high school yet."
Miles nodded. He seemed paler than usual.
"You're right, Wr- er, I mean, you're correct. I get the feeling we've only just scratched the surface of this case."
As Phoenix glanced around, noting for the first time the badges - not the same as the one he held, but still very official-looking - on the strange opaque evidence bags, he was inclined to agree.
Okay, several notes.
Gah, I know nothing about US way of life/media/stuff, so I had to do some serious wikipedia-ing (love that site) to get some of the details here. Others may be totally wrong.
I am aware that a) a Secret Service symbol is gold (I'm not sur but I think the badges themselves are silver) and b) the prong of a badge wouldn't be big or sharp enough to puncture someone's stomach. I totally made that bit up because I thought it'd sound like it'd happen in the PW-verse. Srsly, inanimate objects are deadly in that universe.
I'm also aware that c) Warehouse agents aren't always Secret Service agents. But I needed some sort of ID he could have for the lawyers to find, and as the Warehouse don't have IDs (for obvious purposes) I gave him a USSS one. I like to think protection of artefacts counts as a protective role that a USSS agent would carry out.
Also am finding it hard to write for both Phoenix and Edgey right now for some reason, so some OOC occurs. I plead that the shock of finding out that Gregory was in fact, an agent, is making them act OOC :P
(PS, if anybody gets the Mock the Week reference in there, I'll be very impressed)