Many thanks to those who have been reading and apologies for taking a while with this chapter! Thank you, SweetQueenie218 and my anonymous reviewer, for your kind words. It's a special feeling when something you write and enjoy is mirrored by others, so I am grateful to you for sharing that with me and taking the time to read. Also, hearty thanks again to prospectkiss, who has been encouraging to a new and self-doubting fanfic writer like myself! I also wanted to note that I have gone back and made minor edits, mostly grammar related, some story related (the notable one is changing Edgeworth from taking the elevator when exhausted to taking the stairs solely in Ch. 5…what was I thinking before?). A warning: as in past chapters, I do refer to actual, albeit relatively older, music and I hope that overlap isn't too distracting for anyone.
Chapter 7: Prelude
December 5th, 2020
"So nervous, little brother? Over a foolishly foolish houseguest?"
Edgeworth ran his fingers through his silver bangs, eyes narrowed as he systematically evaluated the sparsely elegant living room and the large glass doors leading to the balcony. After much deliberation, their investigation had moved to London with his rent and expenses partially covered for accommodations of his choosing. After perusing many holiday homes, the prosecutor finally selected a clean, modern, minimalist 3-bedroom flat with plenty of space and privacy, a must, given that his rival-friend would not arrive alone. Although he personally would have preferred an ornate interior design, he knew the former attorney would only get tense and uncomfortable, thus more likely to accidentally break things.
He sighed, "He's flying far away from home to assist me. I must take every precaution to ensure he is able to rest, recover from jetlag quickly, and not be a hindrance to our investigation."
Franziska scoffed, "Spoken like a truly concerned lover…foolishly foolish nonsense…" She drifted to the kitchen, while Edgeworth glowered silently at her retreating silhouette.
Nowhere in sight, she called out persistently, "You're not even going to foolishly protest like the fool you are, Miles Edgeworth?"
The prosecutor clenched his jaw as he retreated to the balcony, overlooking the frosty street lamps and the skeletons of trees covered in snow. He pulled the collar of his trench coat up slightly to shield his face from the wintry gusts of wind. I really do hope you feel comfortable here, Wright. I tried to consider numerous factors when—
"Miles Edgeworth, you should abandon your foolish reverie so you're not so foolishly late to retrieve that fool from the airport!"
Edgeworth tensed, suddenly alert and checking his watch. Yes, 7:05 AM, and I should give at least an hour and a half to arrive at Heathrow by car with the traffic and snow…He felt a small smile creep up along his lips, recognizing how protective he felt, unwilling to let Wright travel in the snow with anyone else behind the wheel. He was given access to a black sportscar, less showy and thus more ideal for investigations, but certainly the handle of it could not compare to his beloved red chariot in California. He drove along the M4 motorway, frequently stopping to adjust to traffic and changing the stations, rapid-fire, to avoid the onslaught of Christmas music. He finally settled for a jazz station, Chet Baker's androgynously sweet croon resounding with such a knowing ache about a romantic rendezvous, and childhood nostalgia occupied his mind. During the holidays, his father enjoyed playing Baker's records while reading at his desk or cooking dinner. Young Miles felt relief that his father seemed oblivious to how his son's cheeks would flush in response to that simple yet bewitching voice paired with the musician's handsomely brooding face on the record cover. His imagination would get the best of him: how would it feel if his spiky-haired classmate and friend sang something like this to him, for him, so earnestly…azure eyes aching as his lips trembled at the microphone…was it even possible? Then the younger Edgeworth would shake his head violently and turn to a large legal text he would peruse of his own accord.
The prosecutor shifted in dismay at his musings and sighed in defeat, barely willing to admit how comforting and familiar this music felt in the moment. I should make a mental note to play some old favorites for him, he's far more sentimental than I am. His lips quirked at the thought, but noting that Heathrow was now only a half-hour away, he felt gentle palpitations in his chest while his mind flooded with unknown variables. Will he feel the same in person after so long or has he changed his mind? With her around, will he be able to be himself with me? Does he want something more traditional now, given the adoption? Did he only fly here because I gave him an opportunity to investigate again? Overwhelmed, Edgeworth briefly pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes as his silver hair obscured them, forcing his eyes open again as traffic began to move. He attempted to focus on the road, his hands grasping the steering wheel tightly, and taking the exit, Heathrow's towering glass windows came into view. Phoenix Wright never flies, but he did at your request, the instant he received his passport. That's the objective truth. Nevertheless, the prosecutor's breathing became shallow and his hands began to subtly tremble until he captured the reins in a vice-like grip.
Edgeworth parked near the stairs, his eyes narrowing at the elevator across the garage. They would have ample luggage for an international trip…should I risk taking it? But if I have an episode…this is the last distraction I need right now. The prosecutor shrugged off the thought, exiting his car with graceful fluidity as he approached the entrance to Arrivals Terminal 5. The brisk chill of the winter air sparked his nerves as the baggage claim area materialized. The infamous bustle of Heathrow was undeniable, people moving back and forth, rushing without much care for their fellow travelers.
Before he could gain composure to search for his party, he heard, "Hi, Uncle Miles!" That vaguely familiar girl, a few inches taller now, stood by the nearest carousel and beamed at him. Clothed in a navy-hued dress accented by a cornflower blue cape and hat, her white gloves lent her an air of showmanship as she dramatically tipped her hat, her leg lunged upon what appeared to be a sizeable magician's trunk. Yes, but where is—
A figure wearing dark distressed jeans, a threadbare blue sweater, well-worn boots, and carrying a faded black overcoat slowly turned around. Edgeworth could not miss those disheveled raven spikes of hair anywhere, nor the gleaming blue eyes that managed to eclipse his state of dress and face covered in light stubble. Thanks for needlessly worrying me about him looking like a common thug now, Detective Gumshoe. He only looks…perhaps something like he did at university, if I could imagine? I'm sure he packed one of his old suits at least…
His rival-friend was only a foot away now along with his daughter, her smile more brilliant up close, a walking toothpaste advertisement.
A familiar timbre resounded weakly, "Miles…"
Perhaps now isn't the best time for a true reunion. Edgeworth nodded solemnly to both father and daughter. "Wright…Phoenix…Miss Eni—"
Phoenix cut in, "No, it's uh…it's Trucy Wright, now."
The prosecutor replied brusquely, "Y-yes of course, how could I be so forgetful, Miss Wright."
The young magician teased, "Really, Uncle Miles? Can't you just call me Trucy like everyone else? You're one of Daddy's oldest friends after all."
Edgeworth's eyes questioned Wright's, but the latter shrugged, smiling as if recommending they both submit to the girl's whims. Phoenix took the moment to drape a woolen navy coat around her shoulders.
He sighed, his eyebrows knit in uncertainty, "Yes, indeed…Trucy. If you must, you may reserve 'Uncle Miles' for informal occasions. However, if we are in public, especially with colleagues, I insist on 'Mr. Edgeworth' for the sake of professionalism. I hope you understand."
The girl's hands were grasped behind her back while she extended on her tiptoes in what the prosecutor deemed a winsome gesture. "Sure, Uncle Miles!"
The prosecutor took the girl's gargantuan trunk, absurd in size as compared to Wright's two rolling suitcases. He bit back remarks about how his guests would only be visiting England for approximately a month, despite his relief that there were retractable wheels to ease transport. As they approached the elevator, he felt Phoenix's hand, so foreign yet so familiar, sneak past his to grab the handle for the trunk.
Edgeworth stiffened slightly. "May I assist—"
Phoenix smiled and shook his head. "Nah, we got it. What floor are you on?"
"Five."
"We'll meet you there, Miles."
Edgeworth clarified, "I'll pull up to the elevator…it's a black sportscar…"
His spiky-haired friend grinned, responding as the elevator doors were closing, "Of course it is."
I'm permitted to enjoy creature comforts, Wright.
Edgeworth swiftly ascended the stairs and moved the car near the elevator just as the doors opened to reveal Phoenix and Trucy. By the time they had departed the airport, the girl had fallen asleep soundly in the backseat and Phoenix caught a glimpse in the passenger seat mirror, smiling warmly in response.
"Not surprised she's all tuckered out. Apparently, while I was sleeping, she was performing magic tricks for almost all ten hours to entertain the other business class customers, who luckily were really impressed. She even handed out cards for her show…so enterprising…she definitely does not get that from me. Thanks for those tickets, by the way." Phoenix playfully punched his rival-friend on the arm.
Edgeworth tensed a little, the corners of his lips slightly upturned. "Did you sleep well?"
"Yeah, I feel wide awake now…though I'd probably feel that way even if I didn't sleep, if it meant I got to see you so soon. I thought you would have sent a car for us, at most."
Edgeworth's cheeks turned a tinge of pink as he responded, "Most drivers are not safe nor skilled enough for me to trust them driving in the snow. And you're already prone to misadventures as it is."
The former attorney grinned and teased, "I'm sure that's what it was."
The prosecutor shot a quick glare that dissolved into a small smile as they drove in silence, before Phoenix broke it.
"So…the case…?"
Edgeworth's smile fell as he felt a subtle disappointment at this mention of their professional roles. When have I ever despaired at the opportunity to discuss work?
"Well, there is a sting operation in place by one of my colleagues, Shi-Long Lang, and his agents. He is a well-respected, albeit at times reckless, Interpol investigator. He put in word that he wanted my assistance in the resulting investigation and prosecuting the cases, especially plea negotiations for testimonies within the smuggling ring. For now, I review documents he sends, trying to make connections, determining red flags and any new avenues for investigation, as well as obtaining clearance and warrants as necessary to investigate new leads."
Phoenix grinned, "So he has a healthy distrust of prosecutors, too?"
Edgeworth laughed drily, grey eyes darting to his companion. "You deduced that much already? It's far less healthy than your distrust, to be fair."
"I also figure you don't need my help as much as you said you did."
The prosecutor's blush bloomed into crimson. "It is difficult to foresee what is and isn't necessary for an investigation, but it is certainly a complex case."
The former attorney shrugged, prematurely reaching for the radio dial and turning to Edgeworth to inquire, "May I change the station?"
The prosecutor rolled his eyes and gestured to him to go ahead, his eyes intent on the traffic.
Phoenix fiddled with the knob, finally settling for a station playing an older acoustic rock song with flourishes of mandolin, his rival-friend emitting a sigh of recognition. Edgeworth, historically resistant to this genre, noted snippets of the lyrics…something about a boy having to tell his childhood friend he was leaving, the boy starting to let his hair hang down, living on a darker side, how the boy's eyes don't see his friend anymore, he's playing another game now…
How eerily familiar.
"Sorry, Edgeworth, I know it's not your cup of tea, but this was one of my dad's favorite bands."
Edgeworth quietly responded, "I would argue it isn't even a type of tea to begin with. I don't believe I've heard it before…"
The former attorney laughed gently, "Yeah, not our generation, is it? But he used to play this song all the time when…"
"Yes?"
Phoenix's eyes turned wistful and nostalgic as he smiled. "When you moved away, he played this song every day for me after school…and then it was one of my favorites, though I never made it to the others on the album."
Edgeworth tensed, responding, "I didn't intend—"
Before he could finish, his rival-friend's hand gently touched his arm, and the prosecutor's knuckles turned white on the steering wheel once more. The hand pulled away swiftly.
"I know, I just wanted to share." The warmth of Phoenix's voice and the sensation of his touch washed over the prosecutor. The pair fell silent, seemingly content to bask in each other's company for a little while.
After they arrived at the flat, the pair guided the even drowsier Trucy to her guest room, where she collapsed in full magician's garb onto the bed, her hat toppling over onto the floor. Edgeworth's mouth quirked slightly in amusement while Phoenix shrugged and grinned, closing the door behind them.
The former attorney broke the silence. "So…with the investigation, I was thinking Trucy could…"
The prosecutor held up his hand, interjecting, "I already made arrangements, but as her guardian, you will need to sign the paperwork."
Phoenix's eyes widened as he blurted, "Edgeworth, this is my kid we're talking about! You can't just—"
The prosecutor rolled his eyes, handing the distraught father a brochure and a packet of documents from the coffee table. Please, Wright, you think I cannot handle vetting out a simple organization?
The former attorney's eyes scanned the pages, more thoroughly than most evidence in court in the prosecutor's estimation, before he finally nodded.
"So…an intensive performing arts workshop for kids, basically?"
Edgeworth smirked, "Was I off the mark?"
A smile slowly spread across his companion's face as he affirmed, "Yeah, okay fine, that was pretty good. But what about the tuition and long hours and covering meals and…?"
"Already covered. They take frequent breaks with meals and snacks, hour-long rest periods, and attend a number of performances in Southend. I sent my assistant to audit them, ask probing questions as needed, review the background information, and they are rather reputable. I believe they also prepare a winter performance at the end of the cycle. It is an education even I would envy and if Trucy indeed performed throughout the flight, she seems well-suited to such a program and could only benefit."
Phoenix beamed in surprise, "You really thought about everything, didn't you, Edgeworth?"
The prosecutor shook his head, clearly irritated. "Only because I knew you would fail to put enough thought into the details, as you have historically done."
The former attorney maintained the warm expression, approaching Edgeworth slowly, the latter reflexively tensing in response.
"You're right…what would I do without you, Miles?"
Edgeworth scoffed, his grey eyes narrowing, "You're supposed to be helping me with an investigation, Wright!"
Phoenix lingered, his smile affixed and gaze determined. "Even though you're handling it well enough on your own?"
Wright, why do you always have to be so direct at the expense of others? The prosecutor swiftly deflected, "Wright, we're scheduled to meet with Lang at one o'clock, so you should shower and change, and then we can have lunch before we depart."
The impatient prosecutor led his dallying companion to one of the guestrooms, gesturing to the door like a sardonic game show hostess.
The former attorney chuckled, responding, "Yeah okay…wait is that…?" He paused at the threshold, pointing to a door slightly ajar at the end of the short hallway, "Is that your room, Edgeworth?" A mischievous grin spread slowly across Phoenix's face.
Throat clear. "It's a London flat, Wright, there is limited space. Where would you have me sleep?"
Phoenix bit his lip, his smile not so easily disguised. "Well, you know, typically it might make sense to have a parent and child take the adjacent rooms, in case the kid has a nightmare and feels afraid, you know? You chose an interesting arrangement, that's all."
Edgeworth responded flatly, "I assumed that a girl Trucy's age may appreciate some privacy since her father can only provide her a poorly-designed and crowded office-apartment of a home."
The former attorney flinched and muttered, "Ouch. Fine. I'm getting ready…" shutting the door behind him.
The prosecutor shook his head as he returned to the living area to make a few phone calls and confirm their appointment. He then entered the kitchen, inspecting and carefully tasting the German potato soup, kartoffelsuppe, simmering in the slow cooker, a memorable dish from childhood. While he relished the accent of pepper and parsley in the simple recipe, he felt mild embarrassment at his inability to prepare more elaborate fare given time constraints. As he liberally added seasonings to enhance its flavor, Edgeworth's mind became hazy. This is Wright we're talking about…in his present financial state, he must be appreciative of anything that is served fresh…and now you sound like a classist imbecile…excellent.
"Something smells delicious in here…I hadn't noticed you were cooking, Edgeworth."
Edgeworth spun around, the guilt of insulting his rival-friend's taste still fresh in his mind, but his thoughts were engulfed by something entirely different as he watched his clean-shaven companion buttoning up his dress shirt over his bare chest. The prosecutor bit the inside of his cheek as he noticed the trails of condensation on Phoenix's skin, mirrored by the dampness of his black hair. The prosecutor felt a combination of joy and disappointment as the deconstructed blue suit reassembled as if it were two years prior. Phoenix fussed around with his necktie, attempting some monstrosity of a Windsor knot, such that Edgeworth finally approached and grabbed both ends of the tie.
The former attorney raised his eyebrows, to which the prosecutor narrowed his eyes and responded wearily, "May I?"
Phoenix gulped and nodded, his breath suddenly staggered as Edgeworth deftly moved the wide end of the tie up into a loop and behind.
Phoenix laughed nervously, insisting, "I must have forgotten since I haven't worn one in over a year…it was hard enough to learn in the first place. And you wear a…err, cravat? And you can tie a normal tie just like that, huh?"
"Wright, you shouldn't give credit for such a banal exercise, even if it is one you cannot complete."
Edgeworth's wry wit was the only barrier between him and his rival-friend, suddenly almost as close in proximity as they had been the night he stayed over. The prosecutor noticed how Wright fidgeted with his hands, his gaze averted, before Edgeworth finally tightened the knot, his pale fingers unintentionally close to his companion's throat. Suddenly, sapphire eyes beseeched his own, causing all thoughts and plans to dissipate into the ether.
"Daddy? Something smells so wonderful in here…"
The pair suddenly backed away from each other, vigilantly observing as Trucy emerged from the guest room, rubbing her eyes. Her gaze traveled back and forth between both of them, surely reading her father's flushed face and his friend's rigidness betrayed only by his occasionally darting grey eyes.
"Ooh, Daddy, I haven't seen you all dressed up since…!"
"Um yeah, Trucy, let's not get into that!" Phoenix laughed, his hand reaching for his neck.
Edgeworth redirected, "Trucy, did you rest well? Are you feeling hungry?"
The girl nodded eagerly, taking a seat at the adjacent glass dining table, already set, Phoenix joining her. The prosecutor nodded, removing his jacket and rolling up his sleeves before he reached for the pot and placed it in the middle of the table. He silently poured a couple ladles' worth of soup into the white china bowls, first Trucy, then Phoenix, and lastly for himself.
The prosecutor's lips curved, pleased at Phoenix's sounds of satiety as he devoured the soup rather neatly, the sentiments echoed by Trucy.
"Uncle Miles, I don't think I've ever had such a delicious soup before…I'm normally not a huge fan of soup…except Eldoon's, but it's so salty!"
"Me neither!" Phoenix groaned, forcing Edgeworth to stifle a chuckle.
"It's just a simple recipe I grew up with, appropriate for the weather and season."
Phoenix protested, "Whatever it is, it's amazing and I haven't had something so…" and the former attorney elected to inhale some more soup instead of completing his thought.
Over lunch, the father discussed the arts program with his daughter, who nearly squealed in delight before he insisted she needed to complete her remaining homework assignments by correspondence on her days off. The prosecutor felt relieved as Phoenix signed the paperwork, knowing they could investigate and do nearly anything else to their hearts' content as long as Trucy was safe and occupied.
Edgeworth inquired, "Are you eager to attend orientation this afternoon, Trucy? My assistants will be here shortly to accompany you."
Phoenix's eyes blazed as he frowned. "Assistants?"
The prosecutor smiled, "Well, you heard Ms. Skye has returned to continue her forensic training in the new year, no? And my other assistant, Kay, is a couple years junior to her in a related investigation program track."
Phoenix responded flatly, "Are these the 'assistants' that vetted out Trucy's program?"
"Wright, they are quite gifted with technology and I oversaw their inquiries."
The former attorney appeared dubious, stating only, "You know, you used to give me a really hard time for hanging out with "adolescent girls". Pot kettle black, huh, Edgeworth?"
The prosecutor glowered and retorted, "And yet they are your investigative partners of choice! And suddenly when I do it—"
"I had no choice in investigative partners! It was either be alone—"
"At the rate that you take in strays, I imagine you had a gallery to choose from!"
"How dare you talk about Maya and Pearls like they're—"
At this moment, the young magician suddenly unleashed a large wooden puppet in a cloak-hat set that matched her own, manipulating its mouth while she beamed.
"Mr. Edgeworth and Mr. Wright, what brought about this marital spat? Inquiring minds want to know!"
The prosecutor knew he was gripping the table, eyes bugging and unable to speak, while his companion hunched over as if just punched in the stomach.
Phoenix's voice tremulous, he gently chided, "Trucy, honey, what have I said about bringing Mr. Hat out at the dining table?"
Trucy crossed her arms, pouting, her inanimate partner folding away out of view, responding in a sing-songy voice, "Mr. Hat belongs on stage in the context of a performance and can really frighten people otherwise. I'm sorry, Daddy, but you and Uncle Miles were fighting…"
Edgeworth, composed again, responded matter-of-factly, "Miss Trucy, I gravely apologize for my repugnant behavior and will not again be baited by Wright's utter lack of refinement—"
Phoenix groaned, interrupting, "And Trucy, I won't pick fights, no matter what a big stuffy jerk he—"
Ding dong.
Three pairs of eyes darted to the front door.
Edgeworth smirked as he confidently shrugged, approaching the entrance. "Must be my assistants."
The two wide-eyed girls entered, gasping at the flat, nearly-identical grins plastered to their faces.
"Oh Mr. Edgeworth, this is so awesome!"
"How did you find a place like this on such short notice? It would make a decent lair for a Great Thief..."
The prosecutor smiled wryly, shaking his head, leading the pair of assistants into the kitchen.
Ema rushed forward and removed her lab glasses, exclaiming, "Mr. Wright! Trucy! I'm so excited you finally came to visit Europe! And you're going to investigate? Well if you need any forensic assistance—"
Edgeworth interjected, "This is Kay Faraday, my occasional assistant and a promising young investigator like Ema here."
The younger assistant beamed, a large golden key garishly entwined in her dark hair, adjusting her gloves before shaking hands with the Wrights as they exchanged pleasantries. Before long, the three girls took their leave, their conversation a seemingly impossible amalgam of thievery, science, and magic.
Phoenix's eyes ached in concern. "Are they going to be safe?"
Edgeworth reassured, "You know Ema to be responsible. And though I may not tell her so directly, Kay was an invaluable part of my investigations. Both have lived in London as part of their education for at least a year and are well-acquainted with the authorities as well as emergency services. The pair combined are overqualified for childcare in my estimation and they can contact us in case they need assistance. Trucy will be at the program for the majority of her time away anyway."
The former attorney begrudgingly acquiesced, "You better be right, Edgeworth…so when are we going to see this Lang guy?"
The pair arrived at a flat on the twelfth floor, Edgeworth composed yet Phoenix winded from the ascent, as the former knocked insistently.
A wolf-like yet handsome figure emerged from the doorway, ash blonde-brown hair swept back, a self-assured grin with fang-like teeth, dressed in a gold-embroidered black jacket with a white fur collar.
Why do we ALWAYS get the characters, Edgeworth?
"Ah, pretty boy, this is the pretty friend of yours you brought to play in this great game of ours, eh?"
Pretty?!
Edgeworth's face remained stoic as he responded, "I thought we had at least made it to last name basis, Lang."
"Fine, Edgeworth. Given your expensive education, you think you could introduce me properly?"
The prosecutor cleared his throat, following the investigator into the room. "I was just getting to that. Shi-Long Lang, meet Phoenix Wright. Wright is my…investigative partner and a former attorney." Edgeworth turned to Phoenix, "And Lang is, as you know, a top-ranking investigator for Interpol who is head of this investigation."
The investigator shook the former attorney's hand, a tad roughly in the latter's opinion, before leading them to an office where he gestured for the pair to sit down.
The investigator and prosecutor discussed logistics and evidence for some time that had little obvious context, and the former attorney felt his thoughts drift into daydreams of how it would be to spend the month with his old friend otherwise. Finally, Lang's narrow eyes sought Phoenix's face, his own dignified yet aloof. "Lang Zi says 'Every wolf plays a role in the pack lest he lose his purpose.' So, what do you plan to do in this investigation, Wright?"
Come on, Edgeworth just called me here… "I…uh—"
Edgeworth's eyes narrowed as he affirmed, "He's my partner and will assist me."
Lang laughed, eyes glittering as he bared his fangs. "Didn't know you were so possessive, Mr. Prosecutor. You don't understand the irony yet, but let me explain. Intelligence reports that our target, Corbeau, is making the exchange for product in a pretty unconventional way, and we decided to move the sting to accommodate."
The prosecutor persisted, "Unconventional? In what way?"
"As you know, there's competition to become a supplier for this pharmaceutical smuggling ring given the increase in international markets. While Corbeau is mid-ranking, according to intel he's made the executive decision to choose a supplier based on a competition. Something to establish the prospective business partner's trustworthiness and composure as there is always the risk of being interrogated by the police. We need someone who can win and get the evidence we need, and with this bastard, Corbeau, there are few chances."
Edgeworth paused, finger on his temple, before inquiring, "Competition?"
"Yes." The investigator's grinned, fangs gleaming. "Poker."
Phoenix's eyes glazed over as his jaw dropped. He looked over at Edgeworth, whose face hardened but maintained Lang's gaze.
Lang continued, "So you see why I want to discuss your companion's role."
The prosecutor resisted, shaking his head, "I'm not sure how this is related…"
"Don't play dumb, I did my research. Wright, you are a professional poker player, correct? Never defeated?"
Edgeworth interrupted, "You don't have to answer that. I didn't bring you for—"
Lang's eyebrows were knit, his fangs nearly bared as he growled, "You have no right to impede the investigation nor to limit our options!"
The prosecutor insisted, "You must have someone among your ranks who can fulfill the role. A professional in such operations. And Wright is known well-enough in the States, he could easily be spotted. I won't have you put his life—"
Phoenix interjected, "Look…what do you need me to do?"
Lang's face settled into neutral as he explained, "You'll need to wear a wire and a small video camera while playing, then you'll follow Corbeau back to make the exchange. We will be right outside in an unmarked van with enough backup situated in case matters go awry. The other parts of this operation may be complicated but I can assure you that we are prepared for all outcomes. What I need to know is, are you sure you can win?"
The former attorney's eyes were ablaze with certainty as he uttered, "As long as I can find his tell, I can win."
His eyes darted to Edgeworth, whose face blanched while he exhaled, fuming.
As if cueing them to leave, Lang stood up and stated matter-of-factly, "I'm not sure your partner is in agreement, Wright. Lang Zi says, 'The survival of the pack is dependent on the elegant coordination between wolf brethren.' Take the day to discuss the plan and I'll be in touch so we can make preparations."
Who is Lang Zi? Isn't this my decision? Aren't I the one with the most to lose?
Edgeworth's face remained cold as they left, giving the subtlest of nods to Lang and completely ignoring Phoenix, who followed him numbly into the stairwell. Just as the door to the stairwell shut behind him, Phoenix felt his back pushed to the wall, pinned by his rival-friend's hands on his shoulders, silver-bullet irises gunning for him.
What the—? What did I –?
The prosecutor's steely voice fell from his lips in a near-whisper, "What do you think you're doing?"
Phoenix trembled but protested, "What do you mean? Just let me go—"
The pale, long fingers tightened their grasp.
"I- I just wanted to help. I wanted to be needed in this investigation, it's kind of my specialty now—"
Edgeworth bit back, "What?! Poker?! You can't be serious. Corbeau is a crime lord, Wright. He isn't above taking hostages, above killing…What would I…" He shook his head, breaking his gaze.
Oh…this is about…
Phoenix raised his still-trembling hand and cupped the face of his companion, whose jaw clenched in response but he refused to move and met his eyes once again, less vicious but still piercing.
"Miles…I'm here with you. And I want to help you the most I can with what I have."
The prosecutor protested vehemently, "There is nothing to prove here. Let Lang find someone else."
"But if I'm the best shot…after all you've done for me…"
Edgeworth moved in slightly, his bangs obscuring his eyes slightly, though their gaze remained intense and clear.
"Your daughter will not lose you. I…I will not lose you, Phoenix. I refuse."
Miles…I…
Phoenix persisted, "Miles, I can do this for you. You've got to trust in me, like I trust in you."
The former attorney's hand moved to the back of Edgeworth's neck, pulling closer, ocean eyes engulfed in the grey orbs of his companion, vast waters meeting cloudy skies on the horizon.
I feel like we've gotten stuck here, like some sort of purgatory… so many times… can we just…?
Lips, soft and warm, pressed against his, shaking with the uncertainty of whether to pull back or move forward. For Phoenix, the dizziness and impulse was too strong, his grip tightening slightly in Miles' silver hair, pulling him in further, an invitation to drown together. An imprecise low rumble, almost a soft growl, resonated from Miles' throat, causing the former attorney to feel impulsive, his mouth opening slowly with his rival-friend's tongue unexpectedly darting in passionately.
Always need to be one step ahead, don't you, Miles?
He felt suddenly so sensitive to every graze, touch, brush against his skin, noticing the long fingers caressing his face and grasping his hair as their kiss deepened. Phoenix's own fingers became daring, tracing down his companion's torso, fingers tucking into the waist of his trousers, pausing but feeling no resistance from his partner. He pulled him in, their bodies plastered together yet hindered by suits, their roles in court, their complicated history…and Phoenix felt ready to shed all of it in this moment.
Miles broke away and leaned in, his lips so close to Phoenix's ear that he could feel his enveloping warm breath as he whispered, "Not here. Not like this." The words hit the former attorney in the pit of his stomach, his body still possessed and consumed that it practically screamed Yes! Here! Now! How can you possibly fucking wait?!
Phoenix took a deep breath as Miles leaned in and kissed him on the cheek.
"Let's go home, Wright. We should have that talk."