Chapter 19

The Demon Prosecutor

"Nick!"

Phoenix stirred in the too small twin bed and sat up. He rubbed his face wearily.

"Phoenix!"

"Mom! The whole point of coming home is to relax!" He shouted back. But he pulled on a tee shirt and hitched his baggy pajama bottoms and left his childhood bedroom.

The house seemed so much smaller when he came home. Not that he had much space in his dorm room at Ivy University—but somehow everything seemed diminished and almost foreign. He'd been gone for nine months this time. Mom seemed diminished and somehow—foreign too.

"Nick, sweetheart," she said coming out of the kitchen. Her hair hadn't grayed but the color seemed duller. Phoenix smiled at her.

"Come sit down and have some breakfast," she said, "You're wasting away at that school."

"Mom, you worry too much," Phoenix said but he came and sat at the table anyway, "You don't need to worry about me."

"Of course I worry about my little boy," she said and slammed a plate of eggs and bacon in front of him. There were stacks of pancakes and a pot of gravy and biscuits on the table too.

"Mom," Phoenix said gazing at the spread on the table with not a little awe, "Is it a special occasion? Is someone coming over?"

Mom looked at him like she was going to cry, "Oh Nick, it's been so long! And you're not getting cared for out there at that school. When I hug you I can feel all of your bones, my poor little boy!"

"Mom!" Phoenix said, dismayed, "I'm fine. You worry too much."

"Don't lie to your mother!"

Phoenix sighed and added a couple of pancakes to his plate, he wasn't going hungry, but he hadn't eaten this well since he'd left home. Mom sipped her coffee and watched him eat. It wierded him out.

"Mom," Phoenix said between bites, "You should help me out, at least. We can't let this go to waste—there are children starving in Borginia."

Mom relaxed a little and smiled, "How's school? Besides that evil Color Theory teacher you told me about?"

"It's okay," Phoenix said, "I had two classes with Larry last semester—he's actually sort of a genius—as long as we're doing art and nothing academic."

"How's Larry doing?"

"Okay, I guess," Phoenix said, "We don't really hang out that much."

"Did something happen?"

"No," Phoenix said, "We just don't have the same interests… I guess. We talk in class, and sometimes I see him out and about or around campus—but we sort of found different paths."

"Are you going to declare a major soon?"

"Mom, what's the rush? Geez, I'm only just starting Sophomore year."

"Still, isn't there anything that interests you?"

"Well," Phoenix said, "I took a class in criminal justice, and I started on the debate team… Larry thinks I ought to try my hand at graphic design, but I'm sticking with Liberal Arts for now."

"You need to think harder about finding a major, Nick," Mom said and she left the table to go to the door. Phoenix frowned at his eggs and then covered them with a little more ketchup. He heard the door open and then close. Mom returned with the Sunday version of the Times.

Phoenix concentrated on emptying his plate while she flipped through paper. After several minutes she put the paper down and looked at him, "Do you want coffee?"

"Sure," he said and took a biscuit from the platter on the table and started to put jam on it.

Mom came back with mugs and the coffee pot and poured coffee for both of them. She set the carafe down on a trivet and picked up the paper again.

"Oh…" She said and he almost choked on his biscuit.

He took a sip of coffee to clear his throat, "What is it?"

"Um… Do you remember Miles?"

"Who?" Phoenix said.

"Miles Edgeworth," Mom said.

"That weird kid whose dad got shot at the courthouse?"

"Yeah," Mom said.

"What about him?" Phoenix said and shoved the remains of the biscuit into his mouth. He remembered Miles Edgeworth. Miles that never came back even though he said he would. Miles who never wrote, never told him where he'd gone. Miles Edgeworth didn't deserve any space in his thoughts.

"He's a lawyer now, it seems," Mom sounded very impressed. Phoenix played with his fork and then decided to take another pancake.

"He can't be," Phoenix said, "We're the same age."

"Look," Mom said and pushed the paper toward him, "That's the same Miles Edgeworth that used to come by here."

Phoenix set down the syrup bottle with a huff and took the newspaper from his mother. He didn't recognize the nervous young man standing next to a cadaverous looking older one in the black and white picture. Black and white newspaper pictures always seemed to leave out the details, but the young man in the photo didn't look very happy. Phoenix squinted at it, and then looked up to read the article. His frown deepened as he read.

"You're frowning," Mom said as she buttered a biscuit, "Is something wrong?"

"No," Phoenix said, "I guess that guy, the old guy in that picture, is a big time prosecutor, and Miles is his protégé. It seems like a publicity stunt—he couldn't have finished law school already."

"I just thought you'd be interested to see your friend again," Mom said, "Now that you know he's back maybe you should try to call him."

"That's weird mom," Phoenix said.

He hadn't heard from Edgeworth since that Honeymoon Trial started, and after word came out that Sheinheilig's case ended in a mistrial—he didn't want to be the one to go to Edgeworth first. Edgeworth took these things so seriously, and he was probably upset about the lack of verdict—to say the least.

Still, as Phoenix flipped through the channels on the TV and waited for the phone to ring, he found that he actually missed Edgeworth. Sure, Edgeworth had been the best distraction against his pining over Maya, but they still weren't exactly easy friends. There was always a bit of awkwardness with Edgeworth—a shadow of their rivalry that Edgeworth didn't seem able to let go. That and something he couldn't point to that Edgeworth seemed to keep to himself. Phoenix changed the channel again. Then the phone rang.

He was so surprised he didn't move at first. Phoenix ran over and answered it on the fourth ring.

"Wright and Co—"

"Nick!" there was no mistaking the shrill shout on the other end. Who was he kidding—Maya had a very cute voice.

"M-maya?" Phoenix said, "Is that you?"

"Yeah Nick!" the voice was a little distorted and static filled in the silence, "You lug, who else would it be?"

"Uh a client maybe?" he was hoping he seemed cool headed and not stupidly relieved to hear from her, "You're not in trouble are you?"

She laughed and he grinned—glad that she couldn't see him through the phone, "Geez Nick, what do you think?"

"How are you Maya?"

"I'm great—I mean training is so difficult, I wish I could do it part time—you know?"

They both laughed.

"How long are you going to stay up there, Maya?" he said.

"Probably forever," Maya said and her voice lowered in defeat, "My aunt is totally psycho about me taking over as Master of the Kurain Channeling Technique. But, well… We'll see. I can't talk very long though, my aunt went over to the next town to get some supplies, and so I snuck out to use the payphone. My little cousin might tell on me if she finds out."

"Oh," Phoenix said, wasn't she eighteen? Or almost eighteen? Surely, she could make her own decisions.

"How are you doing, Nick?"

"I'm fine," he said, "I haven't had a client since Edgeworth, but I'm looking."

"Aww Nick? How are you going to make rent in February?"

"I'm thinking about consulting," Phoenix said.

"How's everyone else?" Maya meant all of the people they'd met throughout their cases, but Phoenix wasn't nearly as good about keeping in touch as she was.

"Fine, I guess," Phoenix said.

"How's your mom?"

"Good."

"And Charley?"

"Great, I pruned him yesterday."

"Are you still mad at Edgeworth?"

"We're good, I wasn't mad at him. He taught me how to throw a baseball the other day."

"That's a relief," Maya said, "That's good that you went outside. I figured you were just sitting around in your underwear moping about life."

"When have you ever seen me moping around in my—!"

She was laughing again.

"Do you miss me, Nick?"

He couldn't answer. Of course he missed her, but not like—was she implying that?

"A little," he said finally, "All of that ramen in my cabinet isn't going to eat itself."

"Don't let it go to waste!"

"I don't think it'll go bad," he said and he actually smiled, "and at least I have it as an emergency supply if the zombie apocalypse—"

"Don't talk about that kind of stuff Nick! You'll give me nightmares!"

"Aw Maya… You know you can stay in my bunker if it goes down…"

She giggled. He wanted to kick himself for making stupid jokes instead of talking to her—really talking to her.

"I have to run Nick," she said, "Take care!"

"You too Maya," he said, "Happy New Year."

"Happy New Year, Nick!"

She hung up and Phoenix listened to the heavy silence until the phone started to beep. He frowned at the phone and hung it up. He hesitated—he was already near the phone wasn't he? He picked up the receiver again and stared at it in his hand. The sound of the open line was beckoning him. He dialed.

"Edgeworth," Edgeworth said on the other end.

"It's me, Edgeworth," Phoenix said.

"Oh," Edgeworth seemed very congenial—at least as congenial as he'd ever been, "Is everything all right?"

"Yeah," Phoenix said, "I just—I thought I'd check in on you…"

"Why—" Edgeworth began, "You heard about the trial then?"

"I'm sorry, Edgeworth," Phoenix said.

"No, it really could've been worse," Edgeworth said, "I'm confident I can get a conviction when it goes back to court. Why don't you take his defense and help me out?"

"Um," Phoenix said and then Edgeworth chuckled on the phone—he actually made a joke. Phoenix grinned, "You know I won't defend a criminal."

"Um," Edgeworth said, "You're a Criminal Defense Attorney—it stands to reason that you may in fact be defending a criminal at some point."

"Touché…" Phoenix said.

"Did you need something, Wright?"

"I was just…" Phoenix said.

"You missed me?" Edgeworth said—Phoenix shuddered, not him too.

"Um…" Phoenix said, "I'm not interrupting anything?"

"Actually," Edgeworth said, "You are—but in a good way. Please keep interrupting for a while longer, if you don't mind."

"Oh," Phoenix said, weird. What should he say?

"Play any baseball lately?"

"Our game is on the fifteenth at the diamonds at Expose Park, you should come. I think we'll be in number 3."

"I'll think about it," Phoenix said.

"Who's on the phone, Miles?" the voice was female—Phoenix grinned.

"Oh it's just—" Edgeworth said, his voice muffled slightly and then he said clearly, "What was that dear?"

"Am I supposed to be your girlfriend?" Phoenix said.

"That is an excellent idea," Edgeworth said.

"Tell me how pretty I am," Phoenix said.

"But you are pretty—more than pretty—you're beautiful," Edgeworth said, "Don't fret over that."

"Will you take me out dancing?" Phoenix said.

"Um, sweetheart," Edgeworth said, "Have you been watching the news? I don't think that's a good idea. I thought, perhaps, we could have a quiet night by the seashore—we could take the ferry out to the island tomorrow—stroll along the boardwalk—look at the stars…"

"That sounds nice," Phoenix said, "You really know how to treat a lady."

"A lady deserves it," Edgeworth said and Phoenix burst out laughing.

"What are we going to do afterward?" Phoenix said.

"She left," Edgeworth said, "You can stop being my girlfriend now."

"Way to let me down easy, Edgeworth," Phoenix said, "Does this mean you'll never call me 'sweetheart' again?"

"Don't be creepy," Edgeworth said, "Do you know Brooke Shield?"

"Um," Phoenix said, "The super model? Isn't she like retired, now?"

And really old—does Edgeworth have a thing for old ladies?

"No, not the model," Edgeworth said starting to sound like his grumpy old self again, "This one is a defense attorney. Her name is Brooke Nancy Shield."

"No," Phoenix said, "You know there's a certain amount of competition among law offices—we don't hang out in a 'Defense Attorney Club'."

"There's the Bar Association," Edgeworth said.

"Yeah, well," Phoenix said, "I didn't mean that."

"She mentioned you, though," Edgeworth said, "Something about the Phoenix Wright school of Defense."

"What?" Phoenix said.

"I'd look into that if I were you," Edgeworth said.

"Wow," Phoenix said. What the heck was going on?

"Welcome to the big time, little fish," Edgeworth said and Phoenix could almost hear him smirk.

Phoenix held the receiver in his hand not sure if he was ready or willing to do this. He had to get a hold of Edgeworth. This wasn't right—this wasn't the friend that he remembered. The receiver started to beep in protest in his hand. Phoenix hung up the receiver and stared at the phone for a moment before picking it up again.

This time he dialed, and it rang. Phoenix swallowed, on the third ring the line picked up and the harried female voice came in on the other line.

"You've reached the desk of Miles Edgeworth, District Attorney's Office," she said, "How can I help you?"

Phoenix balked, "Um… C-can I speak with Mister Edgeworth?"

"May I ask who's calling?"

"M-my name is Phoenix Wright," he said.

"Reason for calling?"

"What?"

"What is your reason for calling?"

"I'm an old friend, I need to talk to him," Phoenix said.

"I'm sorry, sir," she said, "But prosecutor Edgeworth is very busy. Do you want me to take a message? He can call you back at his leisure."

"Um," Phoenix said, "Sure, okay. Tell him this is Phoenix Wright, we need to talk. It's important. Tell him that."

Phoenix left his number with her and hung up—feeling that nothing had happened at all. He frowned at the paper spread on his lap and then folded it back up and returned to his room. He stuck the paper into his desk drawer and opened his laptop. Phoenix was having trouble sleeping tonight.

Why this? The last two months had been bliss. He'd never been in love with a girl like this and Dolly filled his thoughts and dreams like a down blanket. Warm, light, fluffy. So seeing the article and dealing with this anxiousness and angst—it was like suddenly being left out in the cold.

He'd called once or twice before. Edgeworth never answered or called back. He pulled up the docket online—he'd been given password access when he began his classes in procedural law. So his days of haunting the Art department—well they weren't over, he still had a few art classes—but he wasn't there as much.

Phoenix scrolled through the cases—what he was able to see of them. Trial dates, defendants, defense counsel—the prosecution. Miles Edgeworth. The name popped up in a few places on the docket. Well, the article did call him 'determined' and 'energetic'. A ruthless young prosecutor for the district that was already making waves. A prosecutor to fear. A demon. A monster.

Phoenix frowned. What the heck was he doing anyway? Miles Edgeworth obviously didn't remember who he was—so why was he pressing so hard to jog that dude's memory? Phoenix sighed—they were friends before… Miles—nerdy awkward little Miles. Miles had a really tough time that winter—then he lost his father. Then he disappeared. Phoenix only wanted to help—just talk to him. Was he really as successful as all that? Because the Miles Edgeworth he'd known would've been torn and broken.

Phoenix slammed his laptop shut. Dolly wanted to go out into the countryside for a picnic. She wanted to photograph wildflowers. She was always better on the weekends—almost like she was a different person. Phoenix lay back on his tiny twin bed with an arm behind his head. He let thoughts of Dolly and wildflowers crowd out thoughts of Edgeworth. Finally, sleep came.

Phoenix pedaled through the morning rush hour with a determination he hadn't felt since the last time he was in court. It was colder this morning than it had been lately and Phoenix had to wrap his face with a muffler and wear a knit cap.

He huffed along the busy city streets gripping the handlebars with gloved hands. The exposed skin of his face was blushed red from the cold. The courthouse seemed lonely today—forsaken. No high-profile cases and TV cameras today. Phoenix chained his bike to the rack and jogged up the courthouse steps.

He ran to the office of the District Clerk and slammed his briefcase down on the small counter and gave his best glare to the sitting clerk.

"Um," the clerk said, "C-can I help you sir?"

"Phoenix Wright," Phoenix said, "I'm trying to get a hold of the Counsel on a recent trial."

"Sir?"

"Brooke Shield—she was the defendant's counsel on the Sheinheilig Serial Murder Trial."

"Um, Mister Wright, sir," the clerk said, "I can't just give out her information—"

"Isn't she private counsel?"

"Yes but—"

"She didn't leave her business card or anything?" Phoenix pulled off one of his gloves with his teeth, "I checked the board, but I didn't see it. I know I always leave like five or six cards after a trial…"

"Ok, Mister Wright," the clerk was starting to look flustered, "But I don't have any information on Ms. Shield. Have you tried the yellow pages?"

"Huh?" Phoenix said, and he shoved his gloves in his coat pocket, "Yeah, why didn't I think of that? Do you have a copy here?"

"There's a payphone in the public lobby—you can try there."

"Thanks," Phoenix said.

He stood in the phone booth with his briefcase, coat, muffler, and hat piled at his feet. He scanned the thick set of yellow page listings. Then lifted the phone. He stared at the credit card slot and frowned. Phoenix bent down to dig out a pen from his briefcase when he was distracted by a familiar voice.

"That's it, pal—I mean sir," Gumshoe was saying, "Detective Chasseur has all of the testimonies in written affidavits filed in their district. I think it's a done deal."

"I'm not nearly so sanguine," Edgeworth drawled and Phoenix looked up to see them crossing the lobby. Edgeworth had his hands in the pockets of a long coat—only the puff of his cravat poked out near his throat. There was a girl with them—a hot girl—who certainly couldn't have been warm in that outfit. She stood behind the two men and gave Phoenix a cold glare. She tapped one gloved hand with a riding crop held in the other.

"When we're done here, we should go down there," Edgeworth said. The girl put a hand on his shoulder and he bent to listen to something she said. Phoenix went back to digging in his briefcase.

"It's very rude to eavesdrop, Wright," Edgeworth was standing over him now, looking especially haughty at that vantage.

"Oh hi, Edgeworth," Phoenix said trying to sound surprised. Edgeworth glanced disdainfully at the piled clothing and Phoenix's open briefcase. His lip curled slightly.

"Are you panhandling?"

Phoenix stood and glared at him, "No, I'm trying to track down that Shield person—like you suggested. I was just looking for a pen."

"I'll do you one better," Edgeworth said and took out a fancy silver case. He handed Phoenix a business card.

"Oh sweet," Phoenix said, "You don't need it?"

"No," Edgeworth said, "You know you Defense Attorneys, always pandering to the next customer—she gave me three of them."

"I don't pander," Phoenix said, "Do you have my card?"

"Take care, Wright," Edgeworth said and started to turn away.

"Hey, Edgeworth," Phoenix said and he jerked his thumb in the direction of Gumshoe and the girl, "Who's the—"

"If you're going to use some vulgar word to describe that young woman, you'd better not finish that sentence."

"Sorry, I just—" Phoenix said.

"Don't worry about it," Edgeworth said and he left Phoenix standing there.

Some stiff in a gray suit walked by and dropped some change into Phoenix's briefcase.

When Phoenix finally got a hold of her, he was surprised when she agreed to meet him for lunch. Fortunately, the place was near the courthouse and Phoenix decided to forgo the bike ride and walk.

The café they met at was one of those chain places designed to look like one of those one of a kind hole in the wall places. Phoenix had never patronized the place.

Shield was already waiting when he'd arrived and she seemed to know who he was, because she waved him over as soon as he entered. She was an older woman—late thirties or early forties—and her hair was starting to show a bit of silver in places. She had it cut short though, in a very youthful pixie cut.

"Afternoon," Phoenix greeted her, with a handshake and a smile before sitting opposite of her at the table.

"It's an honor to meet you, Phoenix Wright," she said and smiled back at him.

"Um," Phoenix said. Why? This is kind of awkward, maybe he just ought to jump straight into the point of it, "I'm flattered. Uh, Ms. Shield, I've heard something recently that kind of makes me nervous—it seems you've touted the 'Phoenix Wright School of Defense', what's that about?"

"There are some in our business who've studied your cases—we're impressed, by your methods and your success."

"I only have four trials under my belt—most people still call me 'rookie'," Phoenix said—this is really weird.

"You're a rookie, but you've gone toe to toe against some of the best, and come out on top—those are not the actions of a rookie."

Phoenix frowned; she means Von Karma, and maybe Edgeworth too.

"Don't get me wrong," Phoenix said pausing when the waiter brought their menus. He took his in his hand and stared at it without reading, "It's very flattering and a little surreal to hear things like that. But I don't know how I feel about having my name attached to something I'm not involved in."

Shield grinned at him, "The Panini here is excellent—and they have a great selection."

"Oh," Phoenix said, "Who's running this 'School of Defense'?"

"Really, kiddo," Shield said, "Why are you worried about it?"

"Because someone's using my name without my permission," Phoenix said. She was kind of a condescending old bag.

"So give us permission," Shield said casually, "I think I'll do the French Onion soup. It's the kind of day for soup, don't you think, kid?"

"Sure," Phoenix said. He needed Mia here; surely she's seen something like this before?

"Um, Ms. Shield," he said, "Who's running this school? Maybe I can get with them and come to an agreement."

"We'd be glad to have you on board, Mister Wright," she said and grinned at him, "How did you hear about us?"

"A little bird told me," Phoenix said. Shield grinned again.

"Was it a hunky little bird whose name rhymes with Hedgemirth?"

"Uh," Phoenix said. What the heck was going on? "W-we don't really talk…"

"I hope not," Shield said, "We can't have the hottest young defense attorney in the last five years sleeping with the enemy."

What? Phoenix stared at her, mouth agape. It was like the lawyer mafia. Mia never mentioned the lawyer mafia.

"Tell you what, kid. Take one of these, and come see us."

Shield pulled out a case from inside her purse and passed him a card. It read in shiny embossed letters—he didn't have embossed letters—'Phoenix Wright School of Defense'. It also gave an address and phone number and the words 'See You Next Tuesday' in quotes on the bottom. Phoenix frowned at the card.

"Well," Shield said, "Can we expect you?"

"Um, what time?"

"Call the number by zero eight thirty on Tuesday," she said with a grin.

Oh geez—Phoenix thought, military time and everything.

A/N: Thanks for Reading!

I had to take a short break and return to Phoenix's POV… Sorry to disappoint, but that's about the most PW/ME it's going to get…

LOL—lawyer mafia… I have to give Phoenix a reason to play, since he doesn't take another trial until Goodman's Murder…

Edgeworth is such a jerky McJerk… Love it!

First flashback occurs when he's about 18… Second flashback occurs about six months before his own murder trial

UPDATED 6JUL2015- A few minor edits. I'm considering removing this bit from the story, because I thought of it years ago and now I can't remember the point. I left it in this time because I'm not sure how deep I get into this in the story.