NO OOC FOR YOU. I swear!


Chapter Six: Keep Taking Deep Breaths


I'd put my hand between Edgeworth's shoulders again, and so it was that I felt him cough before I even heard it. It was a sort of sleepy cough, but it soon rose; his back came up under my hand as he came to his hands and knees, the cough clearly muffled by one hand.

A little woozy and not altogether paying attention – my wrist was really starting to throb in earnest – I was almost startled out of my wits when Edgeworth suddenly thrashed upright, knocking my hand aside. I could hear him breathing quickly, utterly panicked. "Edgeworth – are you okay?" The thought passed through me that holding my hand out when there was no light probably wouldn't do much good. Unfortunately the other though (to turn that light on) never appeared. I whispered again, "Edgeworth, over here."

A flailing hand brushed mine, then grabbed it, painfully tight. I felt him draw close to me, making a concerted effort to get himself under control. His breathing slowed somewhat, and finally he said, "Wright… where are we?" His voice was unbelievably tight, but pitched very low. "Is Maya all right? Are you hurt?"

I wondered briefly if he would shrug me away if I tried to put an arm around him. Probably. Even when he was panicked, breaking his personal distance took time. "We're fine. You?"

"I'm… under control," he replied tersely: I didn't have to see his face to know it was a lie. His hand still had a death grip on mine.

"Well, that's not exactly what I meant, but that's good. You've been out for the better part of an hour, I think."

Silence. Tentatively, I offered, "Maya is trying to channel Mia again. We asked her for help awhile ago, to see if she could maybe contact Pearls."

He still remained silent, and after a moment I heard the scrape of his shoes as he drew his legs up before him. The image sort of wanted to make me cry, but I sighed. This was impossible. "Edgeworth…" Disengaging my hand from his grip, I gently laid it along his shoulder, pulling him closer to me. Ever so slightly, I could feel him shivering. Clearly his fear of earthquakes hadn't gotten any better than had my own fear of heights.

After a moment, I felt him put his head on my shoulder. It felt so natural that it was only a moment later I realized it was the same way Maya had leaned against me: the motion implied utter trust. I wanted desperately to turn the light on, but feared it would somehow distract Maya's concentration more than our quiet voices would.

As if on cue, an exhausted voice said, "Nick?"

I groped for the light left-handed, wincing at the pain in my wrist as I did so. "Maya! You couldn't – was Mia –?"

"Someone else must still be channeling her," said Maya's disembodied voice. She sounded absolutely awful: I fumbled with the light, hearing her move closer.

When I finally managed to get my phone to come on, my stomach wrenched at how exhausted she looked. Dark circles underscored her red-rimmed eyes, her hands trembled, and even her bangs drooped. "Jeez! Are you all right, Maya?" I drew my hand from around Edgeworth's shoulder and reached forward to support her – almost catch her.

"Fine. Just tired. It really wore me out, that's all. I should have given up the first try," she said, grinning at me. Then her eyes flicked to Edgeworth, and lit up a little. "Hey, Mr. Edgeworth – are you okay?"

"Yes, thank you, Maya," he answered, less tightly than before. I sighed inwardly. The lengths we would go to…

"Maya, you should lay down," I insisted, trying to sound firm. Even in the blue phone light she continued to look more and more wan. "I'm sure Mia will be back soon."

"Yeah, probably," she answered. I reached over and retrieved my coat from where it had been, and handed it to her. Beside me, I could feel Edgeworth shedding his own suit jacket.

"Here. Lie down, Maya. We'll… you know. Stand guard."

She laughed, eyes flitting from me to Edgeworth. I realized exactly what she was thinking, and she laughed again as I flushed. "Okay. I do need a nap. You two… have fun." The note in her voice was unmistakable.

Out of the corner of my eye I could see Edgeworth looking at me – it wasn't so much a glare as just a withering stare. "Go to sleep, would you?"

She smiled, laying her head on the makeshift pillow and closing her eyes. I shut the light off again, and as I did so I felt Edgeworth's hand descend on my knee, very slowly, in the darkness.


X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X


Both of us waited patiently until Maya's breathing had slowed, too low and regular for her to be faking. He was the first to break the silence. "You finally told her, didn't you." It wasn't even a question.

"I had to. Why, did you all of a sudden change your mind? Was I supposed to keep my mouth shut now?" I hadn't mean to sound so harsh, but sometimes Edgeworth drove me insane. He was just so damn sensitive.

"No, I haven't changed my mind," he said tersely. "Don't be stupid. But how much, exactly, does she now know?"

I sighed. "That you and I have been seeing one another for several months… that I've slept over at your apartment before… that you gave me the ultimatum last week."

There was a pause. "So… no details or anything?"

I laughed, practically able to feel him glaring at me in the dark. He thought as highly of Maya as I did, but… He was so frightfully private about his personal life that most of the time I felt honored to even be a part of it. "No. No details, except for that first night at my apartment. She did try, though. Quite gleefully."

"Hmm. That I'm sure about." Then he sighed. "I suppose she's not upset, then?"

I snorted. "Are you kidding? She was about as excited as Pearls would be if I told her Maya and I were dating. Oh, speaking of whom… we agreed that we'll have to break the news to Pearls in a while. Maybe when she's grown up. In ten years or so."

"Mm," was the only answer. Somehow I was getting the feeling that he still wasn't satisfied – but not with me telling Maya. Even trying my hardest, it was always difficult to tell what was upsetting him. I knew perfectly well I wasn't the most intuitive of men, but Edgeworth was sometimes irrationally and frustratingly inscrutable.

I finally couldn't take the silence any more. "Should we still wait until your case is over before trying to resume things, though?"

He groaned, and I realized he'd temporarily forgotten about the trial from hell. "Sorry… I just don't want to mess with your schedule or anything." I hesitated, then added, "This case is killing you, Edgeworth."

"Tell me about it," he said, dully. "Jesus, Wright. What I wouldn't give to just drop everything for once, leave town with you and Maya and forget everything for a month or so."

I started, unable to think of a way to respond to such a blatant admission. "But," he continued. "I can't. Maya and I have to win this case, Wright. And it's not as if you don't understand how I feel, for God's sake." His voice suddenly became muffled as he buried his face in his hands. "Ugh. What I wouldn't give to have you sitting across the courtroom from me."

I still couldn't speak for a moment; finally, I swallowed, and managed to say, "It would rather it be me, too. It'd be the second time you won against me… for the sake of justice."

He sniffed, half bitterly and half satisfied. "Yes, well."

"So what's stopping you after this case?" I asked, somewhat tentatively. My heart was swelling in a way it never had before – such an open, honest statement of affection from Edgeworth practically took my breath away. He must be scared. "If, somehow, the fantastic team of Edgeworth & Fey doesn't work out, you'll want to get away, right? And if you win, then, well, you'll want a celebration."

Pause. "Can't," was the answer, once again muffled. Then he lifted his head and looked at me: I couldn't see anything, but I knew. "I've been asked to take another case immediately following this one."

"Edgeworth, you can say no!" I said indignantly. "What's the Chief of Police going to do, fire you? You've taken every high-profile case in the last two years and won every one!" Except one, but I wasn't yet annoyed enough to mention Lana's triumphant return to the court room.

He sighed. "Wright, this isn't like being a defense attorney. I can't just turn down something like this. I'm the district attorney, as well as the High Prosecutor, and if I don't take this case, no one will. Quite literally." He paused unhappily, adding, "Beyond that the mayor and police commissioner have requested that I take it. Apparently they think no one else is fit to prosecute another prosecutor."

Suddenly I realized what case he'd been assigned. My mind flashed back to Lana again, except this time in a detention centre. "Christ, Edgeworth. Does he have his own attorney yet?"

Edgeworth laughed mirthlessly. "Are you serious? Would anyone take a client who'd been caught and arraigned with murder by the great Phoenix Wright?"

I was silent, but only because I had to admit that he was right. It was like years before, when I'd taken my first case against the great Miles Edgeworth: except my client hadn't already been accused of murder by him. "So one of the most feared ex-prosecutors in L.A. is going to be represented by some scum hired by the county." I couldn't even bring myself to say that he had also been Mia's friend and lover: the pain was still too close to the surface.

There was no answer except a sigh, and I knew he was nodding. For a brief second I considered blurting out that I would do it – that I would defend Diego Armando; but I let it go for the time being. Even if I didn't mind take on a case I would inevitably lose, it would be near-impossible for me to even make it into court as Armando's representative lawyer. A defense attorney could, in theory, defend a client they'd initially charged with homicide during a court session. But in good faith I couldn't imagine defending someone and losing on purpose: and that's precisely how the judge would see it, if I did lose.

I took a deep breath, utterly frustrated. If only Mia were here, I thought bitterly. I'd wracked my brains for ways to get Armando free of homicide charges, losing sleep after California vs. Hawthorne, poring over law books I'd never so much as looked at in my entire life. When the man known as Godot had killed Misty Fey, it had been a pre-ordained act: she herself had put down in writing that he was in place as a failsafe. Beyond that, at the time of attack, the body had been occupied by the spirit of Dahlia Hawthorne, so technically the case would only be murder in the second, if not simple manslaughter.

Unfortunately, when a client wants to be found guilty, he or she inevitably is found so. Armando had no intentions of getting away with his murder.

"Anyway, Wright," Edgeworth suddenly said, startling me, "I appreciate the offer. But I have absolutely no idea how long that particular trial will take." His voice was more exhausted than anything else. "If it even starts. If we get out of here alive."

I snorted – then realized he was serious. I opened my mouth to say something, but further realized that there was not much to say. Either he was right, and there was no way out – or we would get rescued, by some miracle brought about by Mia and Pearls.

Putting my arm around Edgeworth again, I finally said, "We're not going to die. Stop being morbid. Anyway, if we did, who better to do it with than me and Maya?" I'd meant it to come out very lightly, but somehow it didn't. I swallowed.

Still, he seemed to get my drift, and somewhat hesitantly his arm snaked around my waist. I added, "Look, just try and forget about everything for right now. Forget that… jerk… Jones, and the commissioner's request, and everything. Maya tells me that whenever she's mad or worried or scared, she just clears her mind of everything."

"This from the girl who argues over the difference between a ladder and stepladder," he murmured, but as affectionately as I'd ever heard.

I laughed. "Yeah, I know. But she's right. It helps."

"Better than a distraction?" His tone was unmistakable, and the urge to shake my head to clear it passed over me. I looked up, trying in vain to find his face in the darkness. This was completely unexpected.

"What the hell? Are you freaking out because it's dark or something?" I felt his free hand come up to my face, and added, hearing my voice quaver a little, "Do you lose all your hesitation when scared, Edgeworth?"

After a short silence, he simply said, "Yes."

It wasn't clear who moved forward first, but it was a testament to the many times we'd already kissed that our lips met unerringly. I could feel his bangs fluttering against my cheek, hands suddenly firm at my elbows, holding me in place. His mouth might have been hesitant, but somehow I knew he was more sure than he'd been in weeks. As was I.

His hands dropped to mine, tongue flitting along my lips – and suddenly a white-hot burst of pain erupted in my left hand.

I knew that I'd cried out, and broken the kiss violently, but the next thing I remembered was clutching my arm, desperately hoping it didn't fall off, bent double with my head practically in his lap. I'd never felt such severe pain before, sweat popping out on my forehead, nausea rocking me. It was a very long moment before anything besides my own rapid breathing registered. Clearly he'd pressed my hands between his in passion, but the motion had done more harm than good.

Edgeworth had remained totally motionless, as far as I could tell, except to place a hand ever so lightly on my shoulder. Eventually I gathered myself enough to sit up again, sniffling. "Wright," came the invisible voice, gentle but exasperated, "why didn't you tell me your wrist was broken?" I felt his fingers on my arm, and instinctively yanked it away. Tears of pain had run down my cheeks, and I could taste the salt. He sighed. "Wright. Give me your damn phone."

Dazed, it took me a moment to find it. His fingers, in taking it from my grasp, were warm and firm. A sense of security stole over me as he flicked on the light. I studied his face as he once more took hold of my left hand, but now carefully, for all the world like a paramedic would. His expression was fixed somewhere between a smile and wanting to roll his eyes. The thought flickered through my mind that if he was concentrating so ferociously, he certainly couldn't be frightened anymore.

I winced as he pressed slightly on my arm. "Wright. For the love of God, you've got at least two fractures in your ulna, probably three in your wrist, and one in your hand." This time it was all exasperation, and to my further mystification, he reached up and began untying his cravat.

I stared. "How the hell do you know that?"

"Because I practically qualify as a pathologist," he answered, somewhat acerbically. "Manfred von Karma made damn sure that every part of my trade was covered, which was to include examinations of wounds and trauma. Unfortunately I can't do much for you. These breaks need be set as soon as possible."

I shook my head as he threaded the long piece of cloth around my wrist, wrapping it tightly. The exasperated look hadn't left his face, but I knew perfectly well that other emotions were roiling underneath. Talking about von Karma was always a sensitive subject; and knowing what I did about Maya's recent channeling proposal, it was likely to be a raw one as well. There was no doubt, however, that he'd left Edgeworth with an impressive legacy of knowledge, in and out of court.

"Anyway," Edgeworth added, much more gently, "I'm sorry for hurting you."

I exhaled a half-laugh, shaking my head again. "It doesn't matter." His hands had lingered, moving further up my arm to rest on my elbow, and now I leaned against him.

"You're probably in shock," he added. "Tell me if your hands or face start to go numb or cold."

"I probably have a concussion," I grumbled, "from someone falling on top of me, and my head whacking off the floor." The moment I'd said it, I regretted it; but as the eventual result was him putting his arms around me, it didn't seem so important that he might be embarrassed. Saying anything would just aggravate that, so I shut up and leaned back against him. Before I began drifting in and out of conscious thought, it occurred to me that if he was worried about and annoyed with me, Edgeworth probably wouldn't be worrying about earthquakes.