Author's Note: Sorry, guys, that this update was a day late! We lost internet connection over Christmas... -_- Okay, so the next chapter (chapter six) is a chapter that you guys haven't read before, as well as chapter seven. EXCITEMENT. (:
Anyways, thanks for all of your support! Your reviews were awesome, guys. (I feel so loved!) (: And a special thanks to Wiiola, who kindly pointed out a typo for me. (:
So, please continue to review, and I'll try and post the next chapter next week~
~Rainbow Fruit Loop xx
~Irresistible Love and the Turnabout~
Chapter Five.
"Wright? Wright?! Can you hear me? What's happening?" Miles' frantic voice raised a few notches. "Phoenix? Can you hear me?"
Oh, for God's sake. What's he gone and done now?
All he had heard since Phoenix had 'shushed' him was a few muffled words, a thunk, and then the sound of Phoenix's phone being dropped onto the concrete.
He didn't know what had happened, but it seemed as though Phoenix was a danger magnet. Miles had to admit - he could feel his heart pounding furiously in his chest.
"Phoenix, are you all right? Can you hear me?" Miles tried again, but the lack of response from Phoenix's end of the phone was unnervingly chilling.
I'm going to have to go and find him. Where could he be? I have no idea. In his office? Unlikely. Who would want to break in there? There's nothing of value in the old office. Oh Christ, I'll never be able to locate the idiot! Okay, stay calm, Miles.
He must be in town. Where else could he be? All right. I'll just have to go and look for him.
With a few rustles of his half-finished papers, and a swish of his coat, Miles was out of the door.
This man will be the death of me.
After half an hour of frantic searching, Miles managed to locate the defence attorney in one of the town's many side roads. He was lying, propped up against a brick wall, his head in his hands.
"Wright!" Miles sighed a heavy sigh of a relief, coming to a stop in front of his friend. "What on earth happened to you?"
Phoenix looked upwards and grinned his heart warming smile. "Hey, Edgeworth!" he said happily. "I was waiting for you to turn up."
Miles rolled his eyes and crouched down in front of him. "You could have given me a few clues, Wright. I was worried sick."
Phoenix grinned again, yet Miles noticed that his eyes were unfocused.
"Phoenix, are you all right?" Miles asked anxiously, suddenly becoming aware of the bloody patch at the back of his friend's head.
"I'm fine, Edgeworth! You're a bit blurry, though. Why are you doing that?" Phoenix chuckled to himself, and made a move to get up.
"No, stay sitting against the wall. Can you bend your head for me?"
Phoenix snorted in amusement. "That's being a bit forward, isn't it?"
Miles ignored Phoenix's - frankly mortifying - comment, and pushed Phoenix's head downwards. There was a mottled black-and-blue lump on the back of his head, and a lot of blood.
"Phoenix, listen to me, all right? I think you've got a concussion. We need to get you to the hospital. Will you try to stand up for me?"
Phoenix murmured in agreement, and, with Miles' help, managed to stagger into a standing position.
"My car is just around the corner." Miles assured Phoenix, his grip on his friend's waist tight.
Only you, Wright, could get concussion when out in town.
"Wait, no, my shopping." Phoenix suddenly said, raising his head. "We can't leave without my stationary!"
Miles rolled his eyes. "Where did you leave it? Surely it's not of great importance."
Phoenix made a noise that sounded like a snort of amusement, and Miles headed off towards where he was gesturing weakly.
"So," Miles started as the two hobbled over to where Miles could see a few plastic bags lying on the ground next to a bench, "What on earth happened to you?"
Phoenix made a face as he struggled to remember. "Uh, I was attacked, I guess. There was… a young girl. Yeah, that's right. She screamed, and I went to see if she was okay. Then everything went black."
Miles pondered this for a second. "But neither the girl, nor the assailant, was there when I found you."
"She probably escaped, and I guess the attacker freaked out at what he had done." Phoenix gave an awkward shrug. "I could have been dead for all he knew."
"Well, thankfully, you're not." Miles murmured, finally reaching the shopping bags. "Are these yours?"
Phoenix nodded, and bent down to pick them up, before swaying dangerously.
Miles tightened his grip on Phoenix's waist.
"I've got it."
Once the two had conquered the difficulties of getting into Miles' shiny red car, Miles huffed a sigh of relief.
That was a lot of effort. Though I'm glad I turned up when I did. Heaven knows what Wright would have done had I not been on the phone to him.
"What happened to your phone?" Miles asked as he pulled out of the parking space.
"Uh, I don't know where it is. When I regained consciousness, I tried to find it to call help, but I couldn't see it anywhere."
Miles was silent.
"I can buy a cheap one somewhere, though. Some man at a phone shop owes me a favour, anyway." Phoenix continued, though it seemed as though he was talking to himself. "I defended him one time, and he didn't pay me. Unsurprisingly."
Miles merely nodded in reply - too busy focusing his attention on weaving around the cars lingering in the streets.
"I think I'll only need to go to the accident division." Phoenix commented. "Surely they'll only need to patch me up and give me painkillers?"
"Presumably, yes. Though you will almost certainly have to stay the night in nurses' care, so you may be transferred the hospital." Miles commented indifferently.
"What? Why?" Phoenix seemed put out at thought of having to stay in the hospital. "I've only got a concussion!"
"Yes, but they'll want to keep an eye on you. Make sure that you don't drift into unconsciousness. After all, you do live by yourself. You'd have no one to check on you during the night."
"What, in case I fall into a coma?" Phoenix laughed to himself, before breaking off to nurse his head.
"Concussions are serious, Wright. If you went to sleep by yourself and didn't have anyone check on you, you could fall into a coma, and, despite your comedic attitude towards the situation, such an easily-avoided consequence would be a very bad thing indeed."
Phoenix was silent.
"I hate hospitals," he suddenly murmured. "I've hated them ever since I was a kid."
Miles resisted from asking why. "Well, there's no other way around it, unless you can get Ms Fey to stay the night with you."
"She's in Kurain," Phoenix grumbled, "so she won't be any help." Suddenly his face brightened, and Miles felt his heart sinking at the look on his face. "Hey, I know! You could stay over!"
"Absolutely not, Wright. I am not going to baby sit you because you have an irrational fear of the hospital." Miles answered firmly.
Phoenix huffed. "Please, Edgeworth? It'd be like a sleepover! And, besides, who better to ask than you? Even if Maya was here, she'd forget to wake me. And I'm just so sore. My head… Ow…"
Miles rolled his eyes, but could already feel his resolve fading. "I don't know, Wright… I've got a lot of work to catch up on. Not only did I waste a day with you yesterday, but, because of your 'accident', I've wasted another few hours. I've got five reports to write up, a trial next Thursday, and a meeting on Saturday."
But that was a lie. Sure, he was busy - wasn't he always? Using his work as an excuse to get out of things had become second nature to Miles; an ingenious way to stop his mind from asking what are you afraid of? Perhaps Phoenix trusted him, and perhaps Miles trusted Phoenix a little bit too, but the thought of staying at his friend's house with him seemed strangely intimate - a feeling Miles was uncomfortable with.
He'd never been much of a social butterfly - even in his teenage years where he had been equally popular with the males and females of his prodigious high school. He'd had the chance to stay out all night, the chance to make a mistake that he'd live to regret - he'd had the chance to be everything the average teenager was. He'd had the chance to be normal.
Yet he hadn't taken what the world had offered, and had, instead, strived to become the prosecutor he was today. If he reflected back on his life and thought - was it all worth it? - he wasn't sure he could answer honestly. He loved his job, of course he did, but was it worth all of the awkwardness and distress that seemed to be such a prominent part of his life?
He wasn't too sure sometimes, and his doubt in everything he had worked for made him uncomfortable.
"…Please, Edgeworth?" Phoenix's gentle, pleading voice brought Edgeworth from his daydream. He sounded broken - wounded and pained, miserable and fearful.
Wright… Please don't make me do this. Please don't force me out of my socially insecure shell.
Oh, grow up, Miles. What's the worst that could happen? Perhaps staying the night with Wright wouldn't be too horrible. And, despite appearances, I wouldn't want him to fall into a coma.
Miles found himself sighing. "Okay, fine. I'll stay the night with you, Wright, but only because it would be inconvenient for me if you were to die."
Phoenix grinned beside him, and, after uttering a truly heartfelt, "thank you", drifted into silence.
Miles, too, drove in silence, wondering if he had made the correct decision. Perhaps, despite his social insecurities, staying the night wouldn't be as horrific as he was expecting. He had known Phoenix for a long time, and, if he couldn't trust Phoenix, then who could he trust?
A glance over at a tired, bloody, bruised Phoenix made Miles smile slightly. The defence attorney hadn't even mentioned that fact that he was injured because he'd done something brave. He wasn't bragging about how his actions had, presumably, stopped a young woman from being demoralized in the worst possible way.
No, Phoenix wasn't one to speak about everything wonderful he had done.
"Wright, don't go to sleep on me." Miles warned as he watched Phoenix's head loll precariously.
Phoenix's eyes fluttered open, and he gave Edgeworth a weak smile. "Sorry. I'm just so tired and so sore."
I know you are, Phoenix.
…
When did I start calling him 'Phoenix' in my head? For all this day's troubles, I do not want thinking fondly of Wright to be one of them. I am not becoming affectionate towards that idiot.
"I'm sure you are. We're almost at the accident division, so just hold on tight."
Really, Miles was lucky that they hadn't passed a stray traffic cop. At the speed he as going, he was sure to get enough speeding tickets to last him a lifetime.
"How much does it hurt?" Miles asked, wondering if Phoenix was putting on a brave face.
"A lot. My ears are ringing loudly and the pounding in my head feels as though it's going to make my brain explode. Bit unpleasant. But I'll be fine - always am."
Miles glanced towards his friend again, and noted that he was bleeding on the white leather seat.
"I hope you'll be paying me for the damage you're causing my car." Miles commented casually.
"What? Where?" Phoenix looked slightly flabbergasted. "What am I doing?"
"Oh, just bleeding out onto my clean white upholstery." Miles said, raising a disapproving eyebrow.
"Oh! I'm so sorry!" Phoenix hastily apologised, not noticing the hint of laughter in Miles' words. "I'll pay you to get it cleaned, of course!"
"It was a joke, Wright. I was joking." Miles sighed, and wondered why he bothered. "To say that you're constantly telling me to take a joke, you really need to take your own advice."
Phoenix sighed, and it was a distinctly defeated noise. "You got me."
The two men walked through the doors of the accident and emergency part of the hospital. Thankfully, Phoenix had been able to hold most of his weight, though the arm that Miles had wrapped loosely around his waist felt entirely alien.
"I hate the smell of hospitals." Phoenix grumbled to himself. "They're so… sterile and white. I don't like it."
"Oh, pity." Miles tutted. "Should we leave?"
Phoenix chuckled under his breath, and allowed himself to be plonked down on a chair while Miles went to tell the woman in the reception about his wounds.
Why is he constantly in a good mood? It infuriates me. Just once, I'd like to see him genuinely upset about something.
Ignoring the little voice in his head that told him he was being a bit harsh, Miles went and sat down on the hard plastic chair next to Phoenix.
"You'll be tended to as soon as possible." he assured an ashen Phoenix.
"Good. Hey, let's talk about something that isn't my injuries. You know, to distract me."
Miles sighed, and wondered why Phoenix wasn't content with peace and quiet. "All right. You said, when you called, that you wanted us to have another meeting?" he enquired.
"Oh, yeah! I thought we should meet again, though I'll bring a proper agenda this time." Phoenix grinned to himself, as though he thought that being organised was something he should be proud of, and not something that should just happen.
"Oh, will you now." Miles muttered. It wasn't a question, as such, but more of a disbelieving statement. "Are you sure that these meetings are actually going to help? I can't help but to notice the lack of anything important I learnt yesterday."
"Well, it'll take time, won't it?" Phoenix pointed out, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. "And besides. It was fun yesterday, right?"
Miles was silent.
"Okay, maybe not." Phoenix frowned to himself. "Well, I guess there's no point in dragging you out if you're unwilling to cooperate."
If I don't say anything now, then I won't have to be dragged out again tomorrow. All pros. I'll be able to catch up on all my work without suffering the humiliation that Wright's company brings. Though… He seems slightly hurt that I didn't enjoy yesterday's meeting.
Because I did enjoy it, in a way. Spending time with Wright isn't too bad.
"No, no, I'll allow you to take me out somewhere." Miles sighed in defeat. "What did you have in mind?"
Phoenix perked up again, and treated Miles to his special grin. "Great. Well, I was thinking: dinner? If you know anywhere good, that is."
"There's a nice place to eat in the middle of town. It's called 'The Ricksha'." Miles commented.
"Sounds posh. Is it expensive?"
Miles allowed himself a rare smile. "Not so much on a prosecutor's wage. Though it won't affect you, as I suppose I'll be paying again?"
"Ah, if you don't mind." Phoenix grinned sheepishly, his hand reaching up to scratch the back of his neck. "A defence attorney isn't quite the high paying career I thought it would be."
"Ever thought of pursuing a different career, then?" Miles asked, slightly smug because his yearly wage was a six figure number.
"Nah. Though I may not get paid, I wouldn't change my job for the world. I don't know. There's just something awesome about saving innocent people from being punished for something they didn't do."
Miles made a vague noise of understanding.
Whereas I think there is something 'awesome' about punishing a criminal for the foul deeds he committed - something wonderful in ensuring that he gets what he deserves; ultimately, death.
I hope that doesn't make me too bad a person.
"Okay, so tomorrow, then?" Phoenix asked, hope written in the eager lines of his face.
"Well, it depends on how much pain you're in tomorrow, doesn't it?" Miles replied curtly.
"Ah, I'll be fine." Phoenix grinned to his friend. "And, if you're taking tomorrow off to look after me, then we may as well go out for dinner, right?"
"I don't remember ever agreeing to stay with you tomorrow." Miles pointed out, his eyebrows furrowing. "It's tonight only, as I recall. I don't have time to waste."
Phoenix's grin faltered slightly. "Yeah, I know. I've heard it all before."
Such a simple comment made Miles pause.
Do I really go on and on about how much work I have to do - so much so that I give him the impression that working is all I care about?
I suppose I do.
Though, if I had to take a step back and look at the world I've created for myself, would my work be the only thing I honestly, truly care for?
Miles was just about to say something to adjust Phoenix's opinion of everything that he could possibly care for, when said man interrupted with a startled noise.
"What is it?" Miles said, glancing upwards from where his gaze had been fixed on the scruffy white floor that really needed a good polish.
"I just remembered something!" Phoenix said, smiling happily to himself. "Before I called you, you called me. But then you hung up before I had a chance to answer. Why?"
Damn. I had hoped that he had forgotten about that, especially with that concussion of his. Trust him to remember the most incriminating of things.
"Oh. That. Well, I was calling Detective Gumshoe about some evidence I needed, and his speed dial on my phone is the number below yours. I fumbled, and ended up accidentally calling you instead." Miles lied smoothly.
I can't exactly tell him that I had an uncanny desire to hear his voice, can I? He would think that I was strange.
Now that I think about it, though, why did I want to hear his voice so badly? Such a longing is uncharacteristic of me.
Hmph. You're thinking into things too much, Miles. I probably just wanted to thank him again for giving up his - admittedly lax - day to 'help me out'. Though, that does seem like a relatively weak motive. Did I, perhaps, simply want to hear his voice? His comforting, warm voice…?
Nngh… Why am I even having this conversation with myself?
Miles glanced upwards at his friend, who was waving an anxious hand in front of his face.
"Hello? Edgeworth? Did you hear anything I said?" he questioned, raising a tired eyebrow.
"Er, no. Forgive me. I was thinking."
"You think into things too much, Edgeworth." Phoenix voiced Miles' earlier thoughts, and continued his previous attempts at a conversation. "I was just commenting on the fact that I am privileged enough to have a speed dial on your phone. Reserved for special people only, right?"
"Not necessarily." Miles huffed, subtly glancing up at the clock on the wall. They had already been waiting for ten minutes, and, although Miles did have to admit that Phoenix had certainly perked up, ten minutes could have been life-threatening in another situation.
"But I must be special. Because then you wouldn't have given me - me, a low life defence attorney - a speed dial." Phoenix smiled again.
"I have many contacts on my speed dial." Miles hedged around the accusation, not liking where the conversation was going. Emotional depth had never really been his thing.
"Oh." Phoenix looked put out for a second, before his face brightened. "Which number am I?"
Damn it! He's number one. Should I tell him the truth? Perhaps I could lie and say I haven't memorised it. He'll probably read too much into the situation, and think that I'm… affectionate towards him, which I certainly am not.
Ah, but what does it mean - having the man I thought I didn't wish to talk to on top of my list of priorities?
Nothing! It means nothing! He was on my speed dial a long time before all of this nonsense about love and my-true-feelings started. …Though, technically, that could make this situation worse - it could be read as though I've had a deeper emotional connection to him than anyone else I've ever met, which is strange because we've not been friends since fourth grade.
Christ, I'm doing it again. These inner debates inside my head. They really need to stop. It all started with yesterday's lunch date. Lunch meeting. Meeting. Meeting. Perhaps I really am ill. I don't suppose he's given yesterday a second thought. I don't suppose he's given me a second thought.
…
Argh, Wright, why must you persist with this line of questioning?
"Edgeworth? Are you all right?" Phoenix questioned again, forehead creasing in worry. "You seem a bit out of it."
"I'm fine." Miles snapped, closing his eyes briefly.
"Okay, if you say so." Phoenix shrugged his shoulders, and gently patted that back of his head. "I think the blood's drying."
"Fascinating." Miles grumbled underneath his breath, strangely infuriated at the man in front of him for making him doubt things about himself. He crossed his arms tightly across his chest, and prayed to God that the idiot would take it as sign to stop trying to make conversation.
"My headache's not as bad, either. Maybe I don't actually have concussion. I feel fine."
Miles chose to ignore Phoenix's idle banter, and, instead, focused on the interesting piece of fabric at his knee.
Why does it feel as though everything is changing?
The two sat in an awkward silence for another few minutes, and Miles couldn't help but notice a fidgeting Phoenix out of the corner of his eye.
"Have I done something to offend you, Edgeworth?" Phoenix asked suddenly, his warm chocolate eyes large and uncertain. "Because if I've said something, then I probably didn't mean it, and-"
"No, Wright." Miles sighed, and wondered why he always had such a negative effect on people. "I'm not annoyed at you." Not really. "I'm merely… tired."
Because that was sort-of the answer.
"Oh." Phoenix opened his mouth to say something else, but the warm tones of the doctor calling "Phoenix Wright" made them both stop.
"Ah, that'll be me then." Phoenix grinned, standing up. He wobbled slightly, but managed to steady himself. "Coming?"
Miles hesitated slightly. "What, into the doctor's room?"
"Well, yeah." Phoenix's eyebrows furrowed. "I need you. For moral support, of course."
Miles stood up and followed Phoenix and the doctor into a large, white room.
What was my chest doing when Wright said 'I need you'? It went… well. Bizarre. Perhaps it was a panic attack at the thought of being 'needed'?
No… Ah, it was probably just pity on his part.
Before Miles' mind could lose itself in the hideous part of his brain labelled 'emotional uncertainty', the doctor ordered Phoenix to sit.
I suppose I had better pay attention - Wright definitely won't. And since I'm supposed to be looking after him tonight…
The next few hours are going to be such a hassle.
"Okay, how can I help you?" the doctor asked, the corners of her lips turning upwards in a gentle smile.
"I think I've got a concussion." Phoenix told her, turning around in his chair to show her the back of his head.
"Ah." The doctor moved forwards and reached out to touch the bloody lump. "And how did this happen?"
"I don't really remember, but I was hit over the head. Hard."
"With what?" she asked, her prodding increasing in its intensity.
"No idea." Phoenix hissed under his breath as the doctor continued her - obviously painful - examination. "Metal, maybe? It hurts. A lot."
The doctor hummed to herself, sat back down in her chair at her desk, and regarded Miles with careful eyes.
"And who are you?" she asked curiously.
"I'm Miles Edgeworth, Phoenix's, er, friend." Miles didn't really see why introducing himself was necessary.
"And your role in this is…?"
"Er, I managed to find Wri-er, Phoenix after he had been hit on the head. He was on the phone to me, and I heard the attack."
"And how was he when you found him?" the doctor questioned, thin fingers poised over the slim black keyboard of her computer.
Miles noted that Phoenix was looking slightly bemused at the interrogation.
"His eyes were unfocused and he seemed slightly delirious. He didn't seem to be in too much pain, and was rather chatty. In the car on the way here, he quickly became tired, though he didn't seem to understand the severity of situation." Miles informed the doctor, watching as she typed furiously. "Though that could just be him."
"Okay, right. We'll just need to do some tests, but I'm sure everything will be fine."
After testing Phoenix's pupil response and balance, and tending to the large gash on the back of his head, the doctor sat back in her chair.
"I'm going to give you some strong painkillers. Take two every four hours with food. Now, are you going to have someone staying with you tonight? We can't have you going to sleep for eight hours straight without someone waking you up." The doctor told Phoenix.
"Uh, yeah, Miles is staying over." Phoenix shot Miles a grateful glance.
Hmph.
The doctor nodded her head slightly. "Right. You seem intelligent, Mr. Edgeworth. Make sure to wake him up every few hours and ask him questions. He should be fine, but if he either can't remember simple questions, or doesn't wake up at all, you need to call an ambulance. Make sure that you're near him at all times, just in case."
"Of course." Miles nodded his head.
"You're going to need to rest for twenty four hours or longer, Mr Wright. Do not attempt to play any sports or do anything physical. You will be able to resume these normal activities after your symptoms disappear."
"Ah, all right." Phoenix stood up, and shook the doctor's hand. "Thanks."
Miles stood up too. "Thank you."
Despite his - really quite severe - concussion, Phoenix bounded over to the door, opened it, and left with his usual enthusiasm.
The doctor smiled after him. "Look after him, Mr. Edgeworth. I think he looks like he could do with someone sensible in his life."