Chapter Text
Mr. Edgeworth couldn’t take care of himself.
It was a simple revelation. How could a guy like Gumshoe possibly be useful to somebody like Prosecutor Edgeworth? Edgeworth was so smart, totally brilliant, and confident and cool and talented and gorgeous to boot, and Gumshoe was, well, not. But Gumshoe had his own advantages. He was a big guy, strong, not afraid of a physical confrontation. Something about him always put people at ease, too. Even though he was a cop, folks seemed to assume he was harmless. And sure, he didn’t like guns, but that was a far cry from harmless.
And Mr. Edgeworth couldn’t take care of himself.
Most of the time it wasn’t even all that hard. When that nice flight attendant had tried to leave her number, Gumshoe had just lost the message. It was a little more effort to stop Oldbag’s bouquets, but she was pretty frail at her age, and Mr. Edgeworth had been visibly relieved when the last bouquet wilted with no replacement in sight. And the courts took care of Manfred von Karma. Well, they would’ve, anyway, but sometimes a death sentence could take years to get carried out and Gumshoe could flash his badge and talk his way into five minutes alone with the guy and no one cared too much about why a guy who’d hung himself was covered in bruises and had seven broken bones.
He made sure the newspaper with the headlines about his “suicide” had landed on Mr. Edgeworth’s desk, and Mr. Edgeworth had been upset, but Gumshoe knew it was for the best.
There were other challenges that were a little more… involved. Will Powers was a nice guy, so it was kind of a relief when he backed down when Gumshoe cornered him in a supply closet and gave him a stern warning. He didn’t even have to threaten his face - Mr. Powers didn’t like it much, but it was a nice face, and Gumshoe didn’t want to have to mess it up. Lang was worse. Lang fought back, ferociously, putting all his wolf bullshit into action, clawing and biting - and honestly, who bites? Who does that? At the end of it his pretty face wasn’t so pretty, and his arm was hanging limp and useless at his side, and he’d rolled on his back and stared up at Gumshoe through the eye that wasn’t swollen shut, defiance replaced by complete submission. He’d left the country, and Gumshoe pocketed the elongated canine tooth he found on the floor after.
So, even if he’d had to come up with a story to explain the scratches and scrub blood out of his jacket, Lang wasn’t so bad. He wished Lang had been the hardest. Then maybe he’d be able to just keep helping Mr. Edgeworth with cases and paperwork and investigations and bringing him tea and cleaning his office. Lang wasn’t the worst, though. Not by far.
See, the real problem was, none of those people were anywhere on Edgeworth’s radar. Which was good! It meant Gumshoe took care of the problem before it got too bad, and that meant Edgeworth never even knew. It was better that way. He could keep it simple, just him and Mr. Edgeworth. And the way Mr. Edgeworth acted, well, he wasn’t exactly asking for all this attention, was he? Gumshoe wasn’t gonna tell him, of course, but he was sure that if he did Mr. Edgeworth would appreciate it. Mr. Edgeworth didn’t want distractions and he didn’t want anybody but Gumshoe around, and that was just how Gumshoe liked it.
The real problem was Phoenix Wright.
When Gumshoe first met him, he barely registered. He seemed nice enough, sure. But he was a defense attorney, and there wasn’t much about him that stood out. It wasn’t until Gumshoe worked with him a little more that he started to like the guy. He was smarter than he looked, and trusted his client, and that was something Gumshoe could respect. It wasn’t gonna help him, not against Mr. Edgeworth, but by the time the trial rolled around Gumshoe was pretty sure Wright was a good guy.
Except, then he actually won his trial. Against Mr. Edgeworth. And that was bad.
Gumshoe spent that night lying awake, staring at the ceiling, hands clasped over his stomach so hard his fingernails left marks and not going after Wright. It wouldn’t be good if every attorney Mr. Edgeworth lost against turned up looking like they’d picked a fight with a meat tenderizer, or worse. A pattern like that wouldn’t go unnoticed for long. More important, though, it wouldn’t help Mr. Edgeworth. Gumshoe knew better than that. There was a difference between makin’ somebody disappear before they could become a problem, and takin’ a problem away. And as much as Gumshoe wished it wasn’t so, Mr. Edgeworth wouldn’t be satisfied until he could face Wright again and beat him. Which meant that Gumshoe couldn’t beat him first.
It didn’t do much to help the acid boiling in his empty stomach when he thought about Wright - his smug face, his dumb objections, his stupid voice. And the way Edgeworth had looked when the verdict came down, furious, but empty. Edgeworth hadn’t said anything for the rest of the day and Gumshoe had spent the whole time since feeling like he’d swallowed glass and trying to stop himself from passing that feeling on to the cause. It was Wright’s fault. Gumshoe spent most of the night thinking in circles, trying to talk himself out of it, but there was only one answer. Wright had hurt Edgeworth, and Gumshoe was supposed to protect Edgeworth, which made it so obvious what he had to do.
Even then, he held back. Edgeworth had been mad, the next day, but lively. He went up against a different attorney and won handily, just as usual. The knife in Gumshoe’s gut dulled, slowly, worn down by the glimmer in Edgeworth’s brilliant eyes when he made a connection and the faintest hint of thanks for one of Gumshoe’s tasks done correctly. And soon it was fine, like Wright had never been here, like Gumshoe hadn’t spent hours and hours thinking about how to best remove this inconvenience from Mr. Edgeworth’s path. Hell, next time he saw Wright he was almost happy about it.
He almost broke after the second time Wright beat Mr. Edgeworth, and the only reason he didn’t was because Mr. Edgeworth glared at him like he knew. Like he knew! He couldn’t, though, Gumshoe was always careful. But he couldn’t help it. It hit him like a punch in the gut - the way Edgeworth looked at Wright. It was so simple. It was nothing. It meant nothing. But Wright was looking back and Gumshoe wanted to knock him to the ground then and there and beat him unconscious. The knife in his gut was back and it had brought friends, and also someone had lit it on fire which seemed unnecessary but Gumshoe could understand because that was exactly the kind of thing he thought about doing to Wright when Mr. Edgeworth looked at him like that.
He couldn’t sleep for three days after that trial. Every moment was spent obsessed with Wright, turning over the tiniest details and examining them closely like maybe for once he could make the break in the case. Why him? Why was Mr. Edgeworth so torn up about this guy? Shouldn’t Gumshoe take care of the problem, like he took care of all Mr. Edgeworth’s problems? Wasn’t that the right thing to do? It wasn’t until Mr. Edgeworth snapped and ordered him to take a nap on his office couch (because he cared about him, even if it was just because his exhaustion was making him useless, Mr. Edgeworth noticed and cared and Gumshoe had the happiest dreams) that he made his final decision, which was… to wait. Not all that final, really, but for now - well, things weren’t likely to go back to normal, but removing Wright didn’t seem like it would fix it, not now. So he’d wait.
It was a good thing, too, because then Mr. Edgeworth got arrested, and once Gumshoe managed to calm down and stop plotting how to bust him out of the detention center, he knew he’d need a good lawyer. There wasn’t gonna be anyone better than the only guy who’d ever beaten Mr. Edgeworth! Imagine if Gumshoe had gotten rid of him before! Then Mr. Edgeworth would be in real trouble! No, it was a good thing. Wright was helping.
And then - and then!!!
Well it all got kind of out of hand!
When they found Edgeworth’s note, Gumshoe cried for a solid six hours. He spent the next week searching ditches and empty fields and lonely tall buildings, thinking endlessly about how he’d done it and whether he’d be able to do the same thing himself. He did find a body, actually, washed up under a bridge, but it was just some poor soul whose addiction had gotten the better of them. No silver hair, no beautiful eyes, and no need for Gumshoe to join them there.
It was three hopeless, empty weeks until he received a brief text: My apologies for the abrupt departure, Detective. He’d re-read it over and over until his phone battery died. Then he’d catalogued everything of value in his tiny apartment - did he really need a microwave? - and brought it to a pawn shop and came out with nothing near the cost of a ticket to Europe. Never mind that he didn’t know where in Europe to even start looking; he’d figure it out when he got there. He was a detective! He’d always be able to find Mr. Edgeworth.
Before he could find someone to give him more than a pittance for his car, things got complicated again. More complicated, somehow, which seemed impossible, but with his one purpose off on a different continent there wasn’t much keeping him grounded. Ms. Von Karma showed up, and she hated Mr. Wright, and Gumshoe might’ve let that distract him from getting to Europe because it was so satisfying to watch her in court, taking down the man who’d hurt Mr. Edgeworth. Gumshoe wanted to be the one wielding the whip, really, but he could settle for helping her. He didn’t expect her to win - how could she, if even Mr. Edgeworth had lost to Wright? - but she did an admirable job of inflicting maximum carnage along the way. Seeing Mr. Wright with nasty red welts peeking out from the edges of his cheap suit made something inside Gumshoe purr, curling up contentedly, for now. Gumshoe didn’t need to be the one punishing Wright - he might have wanted it, but he didn’t need it. He wasn’t greedy. The important thing was that Wright got what he deserved for hurting Mr. Edgeworth.
Every time Gumshoe thought he was okay, that he’d reached some level of satisfaction, it went wrong. Because then Maya got kidnapped and she was a nice girl, she didn’t deserve to have anything bad happen to her, even if it would crush Wright. And then Mr. Edgeworth came back - he actually came back! - but he spent all his time obsessing about Wright and Maya and the case, barely even saying hi to Gumshoe. And Gumshoe wasn’t greedy, honest, but - but didn’t he deserve a little more than that? Hadn’t he always been there, hadn’t he always done his best, all for Mr. Edgeworth? And then Mr. Edgeworth was gone again, leaving him behind, and it hurt so bad that Gumshoe almost cracked, almost couldn’t stand the roiling agony in his chest, almost followed Wright back to his office and got rid of him once and for all.
Wright could disappear like Mr. Edgeworth almost had. Gumshoe knew how. It would be easy. Wright was energetic, sure, but he was scrawny. More importantly, though, despite his bravado in the courtroom, he didn’t have the heart for a fight. Gumshoe could make it quick, but he wouldn’t have to. He could keep Wright under control for a little while if he wanted, a few minutes, a couple hours, a day or three, for as long as he needed to finally pay him back for all the pain he’d caused Mr. Edgeworth and quiet the feelings that tore through him like a buzz saw. Take care of Wright, make sure he knew what he’d done and how it had felt and give him every part of it back. And when he was done, he had plenty of quiet places to put a body where it might never be found. He knew lots of stuff like that. He knew how to handle things. He knew how to take care of Mr. Edgeworth.
But Edgeworth was gone, gone to where Wright couldn’t reach him, couldn’t hurt him anymore, and that helped. Because Wright really did seem like a good guy! It was just too bad that he couldn’t stop hurting Mr. Edgeworth. And it was too bad that he did it one more time, worse than ever before, dragging him back to the country and forcing him to act as a defense attorney. Selfish, and rude, and Mr. Edgeworth might’ve acted like it was okay but Gumshoe knew him better than that. Gumshoe knew better.
Really, at this point, it was Gumshoe’s fault. He should’ve acted sooner. He shouldn’t have let his own feelings get in the way. But he couldn’t put it off any longer.
Phoenix Wright had to go.
He got him in his office.
The building didn’t have much security, which wasn’t great for a law office. Sure, maybe a defense attorney was at less risk than a prosecutor, but it was still worryingly easy for somebody to sneak in without being caught on camera, jimmy a couple locks, and arrive in the small waiting room a couple hours after the close of business. Wright’s bike was still locked to the bike rack outside, which meant he was still here, even though the rest of the building was empty.
Gumshoe didn’t worry too much about staying quiet. The door slammed behind him and his footsteps were heavy on the carpet. But it didn’t matter that Wright was looking up at the door when it opened. It wasn’t gonna do him any good.
“Hey, pal,” Gumshoe said, his voice as casual as if this was a normal interaction, like he’d run into Wright in the light of day.
Wright frowned. There was no trace of fear on his face yet. “Gumshoe? What are you doing here?” He glanced at the clock on his desk. “Could’ve sworn I’d locked the office.”
“You did.” Gumshoe stood in the doorway, filling it completely without even trying. There was no other way out except the window, and that, well, hopefully Wright didn’t consider that option because they were a little too high for it to end well. And it didn’t have to end that way! Depending on what Wright had to say, maybe this could all be over in a couple minutes. If Wright was really as smart as he seemed…
He wasn’t looking too smart right now. “Huh? Wait, then how - “
“I gotta talk to you, pal.”
“Oh. Uh.” Wright glanced at his computer screen. “Okay, um. I’ve got some stuff to do but maybe we could meet - “
“Nah.” Gumshoe stood up a little straighter. He was still a little sore from his conversation with Lang last week, but he could still cut an imposing figure. He didn’t really stand up all the way often; he knew he was big, and he wasn’t usually trying to make an impression. But now, he pulled his shoulders back and took a deep breath and watched as something sparked in Wright’s eyes. “I mean right now.”
“Um.” Wright swallowed; Gumshoe could see the lump in his skinny neck bobbing under thin skin. Seemed like he could snap it easy as dry spaghetti! Amazing how people were so frail. “Okay. What’s up.”
“You gotta leave Mr. Edgeworth alone.”
“Edgeworth? What are you talking about?”
His eyes were still too clear. Gumshoe wasn’t getting his point across. But that was alright. He had time. “Leave him alone,” he repeated.
Wright shook his head. “I’m not - what? What did I do?”
Gumshoe took a step into the office proper. Wright’s desk was between them, and he took a moment to consider it. If Wright bolted, it’d be annoying to have to chase him down. The desk didn’t look too heavy, though. “I think you’re a nice guy,” he said, walking a little closer, and even though Wright’s eyes were still clear he did lean back in his chair. Good. “I do, honest. So I’m trying to give you a chance.”
“What - what are you doing? What chance? What does this have to do with Edgeworth?”
“Leave him alone.” Now Gumshoe leaned down, placing his hands on the desk, hearing it creak under pressure. Should’ve known it wouldn’t be anything like Mr. Edgeworth’s desk, strong solid wood. Wright’s desk was probably just particle board and aluminum. “You’ve caused enough trouble.”
“I’m not causing any trouble,” Wright answered.
“Yeah, you are. You always have been, and honestly I should’ve done this in the first place. But I thought you were a nice guy. I wanted to give you a chance.”
Finally, something shifted. Wright blinked, and there it was, the imperceptible widening of his pupils or the slightest hitch in his breath. “Gumshoe, stop.”
“Don’t talk to him, Mr. Wright. No more getting him involved in your ridiculous cases. He’s got better stuff to do. Quit wasting his time.”
“Don’t talk - you can’t forbid me to talk to him.” The fear was still there, cowering behind indignation, like an animal puffing up its fur to look bigger. As if that could startle the hungry bear. “I don’t understand what you think you’re doing but I’m not afraid of you. I know you, Gumshoe.”
Gumshoe chuckled at that. “Yeah, alright. So you’re not scared of me?”
“Of course not.” Wright sighed and slumped into his chair. “Is this a prank or something? Did Maya put you up to this?”
“So you’re not going to leave Mr. Edgeworth alone?”
Wright froze, staring up at Gumshoe. “No.”
Gumshoe nodded.
If he was being honest, he was hoping for that answer. It would’ve been nice if Mr. Wright had listened. It would’ve been great! Nobody would’ve gotten hurt that way. But this way, and this was something Gumshoe knew he shouldn’t want, this way he got to punish the man who’d hurt Mr. Edgeworth. Wright had done a lot of wrong, and ending that was the top priority, of course. But Gumshoe was pretty happy to mete out some justice too.
He lunged across the desk and grabbed Wright’s suit, hauling him up from his seat by the fistfuls of fabric. Wright’s laptop folded the wrong way with a crunch when Wright landed on it. He stared wide-eyed at Gumshoe right up until Gumshoe grabbed the back of his head and slammed him, face first, into the surface of his desk so hard the cheap wood cracked. Then he shoved. Wright crashed against his chair, sending it spinning away. He was still sitting on the floor, unmoving, when Gumshoe circled the desk and scooped him up again.
“W-wait,” Wright croaked. Gumshoe held him upright against the wall. His nose was bleeding and his lip was split, not to mention his messy hair. Gumshoe pulled back his arm, fist raised. He wasn’t a trained boxer or anything like that, but he’d learned enough hand to hand combat to know how to throw a damn good punch. He struck Wright right in the middle of his chest, in the, uh, the sunny spot, some instructor had called it, or something like that. Whatever it was called, when he put his weight behind it Wright crumpled, curling in on himself and wheezing. Gumshoe didn’t give him time to recover before landing another body shot. This one didn’t have as big an impact, because Wright didn’t have any air left in his lungs to lose. Gumshoe released his grip and let Wright fall.
Wright landed hard, but probably didn’t feel it, not really. His body did what bodies do, trying to cover his most vulnerable spots, crunching up into the littlest ball it could. After a moment he coughed, gulping down air. Gumshoe crouched in front of him; he wasn’t gonna kick a guy when he was down. He wasn’t real big on kicking. Instead he grabbed Wright by the arm, hauling him upright and propping him against the wall.
“No,” Wright gasped. His face was shiny with tears, but that wasn’t anywhere near enough. Gumshoe smacked him on the side of the head, barely enough to hurt, although you wouldn’t know it from the wounded sob.
“Hey,” said Gumshoe, “listen up. You gotta know why I’m doing this, alright? It’s for Mr. Edgeworth. You’re gonna leave him alone. I don’t ever wanna see you around him, got it? Don’t talk to him. Don’t take any cases he’s working on. You’re gonna disappear, pal.”
“P-please,” Wright sobbed, and Gumshoe punched him in the face, knocking his head against the wall. Then he grabbed a fistful of hair to pull him up again.
“You got it?” he asked. “You understand? You’re gone, alright? C’mon.” Wright was full on crying, sobbing like a baby, and Gumshoe wrinkled his nose. “I’m sorry, pal. But I gotta do this to make sure you get the point. Do you get it?”
Wright nodded, and Gumshoe sighed. “That’s good. So you’re gonna leave Mr. Edgeworth alone.”
Another nod.
“I wanna hear you say it.”
“I-I’ll leave Edgeworth alone,” he croaked. Jeez, what a little punk. Gumshoe’d barely touched him. “I - I’ll do anything. Please don’t hurt me.”
Gumshoe chuckled, low and warm. “Oh, pal, that ain’t the deal. You blew that chance. Nah, see, I need you to tell me that you get it, because that means you get to keep breathing.” He leaned in close, his face inches from Wright’s; Wright closed his eyes and tried to squirm away and it made him all fuzzy inside. “Doesn’t mean you get away without getting punished for what you already done.”
“I haven’t done - “
Gumshoe stood up, and he brought Wright with him, lifting him by that handful of hair. “Maybe you think that,” he said, letting him go. “But you don’t even know Mr. Edgeworth. Not like I do. And pal, I gotta say, you deserve more than this.” He grinned, lopsided, goofy, showing lots of teeth. “But this’ll be a start.”
Wright was swaying on his feet, but still upright, so Gumshoe’s right hook caught him across the ribs. It felt right, solid and heavy, and Gumshoe knew he was still grinning as Wright stumbled away, his arms thrown up uselessly in front of him. Gumshoe grabbed his wrist and twisted it, dragging the rest of Wright’s body with it, down far enough to lift a knee and slam it into his chin. He didn’t let go, though, because if he let go Wright might go down, and that was a lot less fun. He seized Wright by the shoulders and spun him around and slammed him into that cheap desk, sending everything left on it scattering to the ground. Then, because he hadn’t really done it yet, Gumshoe hauled him back to standing and punched him square across the jaw. It wasn’t the most effective hit, really, the skull was made that way for a reason, but damn if it wasn’t satisfying to get some blood on his knuckles. And Wright was bleeding more now, for sure. It was dripping from the corners of his mouth, a disgusting mix of blood and drool smeared across his chin and dripping onto his white shirt. Gumshoe glanced down and frowned; he’d gotten some on him. Ah, well. Couldn’t be helped.
“P-please,” Wright said, or something like it, but Gumshoe wasn’t listening. He picked up Wright by his soiled clothes and thrust him into the wall again, hard enough to make the picture frames rattle. His left hand stayed bunched in the fabric, pinning Wright to the wall. His right balled into a heavy fist. Gumshoe was looking forward to this hit. There was just something so good about it. Somebody better with words might’ve called it visceral or primal or vicious. All Gumshoe knew was that one of his favorite places to hit somebody, when he really wanted to hurt them, was just under the ribs where they got all soft again. It felt good when his fist sank into Wright’s soft stomach, like he was just wailing on a sack of meat. Yeah, it was effective, it took the fight right out of a person, made ‘em curl up in a little ball and beg for mercy, and sometimes that was how a fight needed to end. But Gumshoe didn’t stop after one. He hauled back and struck again, his fist so deep into Wright’s gut that his stomach folded around it. And again, and again, and -
Wright was such a nice guy, really. Gumshoe almost felt guilty. Because when he puked, he actually tried not to. He tried to hold it in, his mouth sealed shut and his cheeks bulging and his eyes wide, and that gave Gumshoe just enough time to step back and dodge the spray of vomit. It splattered all down Wright’s suit, streaked with pink - ah, he wasn’t vomiting blood, though, it was just coming from his mouth, he must’ve bitten his tongue or lost a tooth or something. Wright fell to his hands and knees, coughing and gasping for air.
“Please,” he said, scrambling away from Gumshoe. “Please, I - I’ll do what you say, I’ll stop, don’t - please, god, don’t do this, don’t - “
“Ah, you probably shouldn’t waste your breath,” Gumshoe said. “I believe you. You’re smart enough to learn a lesson.”
“Th-then - if you, if, i-if - “ Wright had fallen on his ass, crawling backwards, but he couldn’t escape. Gumshoe knelt down in front of him and grabbed his hair again. “W-why?” he managed to ask while Gumshoe straddled him, pinning him down. “Why are you - please, no more, please, I - I swear, I promise - “
Gumshoe angled Wright’s face side to side, inspecting it; it was red and swollen and soggy with tears and blood, but overall he hadn’t done that much damage yet. “I’m just doing my job, pal,” he said, pulling back his fist. Nothing wrong with liking your job.
Gumshoe’s fist cracked against the side of Wright’s skull. Wright collapsed under him, going completely limp. That didn’t stop Gumshoe from hitting him again, and again. He released his grip on his hair so he could use the other fist, go in from the other angle, knuckles audible and sickening and thrilling. He felt giddy, and knew he had to be careful; it would be so easy to get carried away. But, he could enjoy himself a little, couldn’t he? Didn’t he deserve that? Wright’s jaw gave way under his fist, shifting in a way that it shouldn’t, and it was electric. His nose yielded like clay, and a cut on his cheek split and revealed vivid red meat and oh, man, was that the bone? Wow. Wow!
He reared back, fist high, ready for one last crushing blow, ready to see Wright’s skull crack open like an egg, shattered and bleeding and smearing that smart brain of his all over the carpet. But he froze. Not because he thought better of it, or suddenly felt pity, or anything like that, but because he heard a voice.
“Detective…!”
Gumshoe reacted instinctively, standing up fast and snapping into a salute. It didn’t matter that the hand in that salute was dripping with Phoenix Wright’s blood; he couldn’t have done anything else. “Mr. Edgeworth, sir!”
Edgeworth glowed in the doorway, the faint light of Wright’s dislodged desk lamp throwing weird shadows as it illuminated him against the dark of the lobby beyond. His eyes were wide and his mouth hung open and Gumshoe frowned. “You okay, sir?”
“I - “ Edgeworth shook his head. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Oh!” Gumshoe glanced down at Wright; he hadn’t moved, much. “Don’t worry about it, sir.”
“Is that Wright?” Edgeworth took a step into the room. “Dear God, what happened?”
“He’ll be fine, sir,” said Gumshoe brightly.
“What happened?” Edgeworth repeated, taking another step in. His eyes flicked from Gumshoe to Wright and back up to Gumshoe. “What - “ He took a breath and his eyes went just a little wider, his muscles tensing. “You did this?”
“Aw, well,” said Gumshoe with a chuckle, rubbing the back of his head, “it’s not like you were supposed to find out.”
“Detective…” Edgeworth moved slowly, deliberately, taking a step towards the door without turning away. It was a familiar movement, to Gumshoe, and a small part of him went through the automatic calculations - he shouldn’t have let him get so close to the door but it was okay, he would turn around before starting to run and that half-second of hesitation would be all he needed to pounce - but he brushed it away. He wasn’t gonna hurt Mr. Edgeworth. He’d never do that. And then, the realization - Mr. Edgeworth was scared of him.
“It’s okay, sir,” he said, raising both hands in front of him. “I know it looks bad, but I’m pretty sure he didn’t even break anything!”
There was a wet rattle from behind him, and a cough. “M-Miles - “
“Hey!” Gumshoe whirled around on Wright, stomping his foot. “What’d I say, huh? You forgot already? Need a reminder?”
“Detective, stop!” Edgeworth grabbed him by the bicep and Gumshoe deflated. Edgeworth’s eyes had gotten harder, and the set of his jaw firmer; he looked less like a startled rabbit and more like Mr. Edgeworth, and it made Gumshoe’s heart flutter. There was still something weird and tense about him but this was Mr. Edgeworth, this was the guy, and Gumshoe allowed himself to be pulled away from Wright.
Edgeworth crossed his arms. “Are you trying to kill him?”
“No, sir, of course not!” Never mind that he almost had.
“Then we need to call an ambulance.”
“Huh?” Gumshoe peered over at Wright, still lying on the floor; he’d rolled onto his side and started to curl back up like ribbon. “He doesn’t need an ambulance, sir. He’ll be fine. He’s just a little beat up, that’s all.”
Edgeworth closed his eyes. “If it is not your intention to let him die here,” and his voice was smooth and even, “you’ll allow me to call an ambulance.”
Gumshoe chuckled. “If you wanna call an ambulance then go right ahead! I’m just sayin’, I don’t think he needs one.”
Wright groaned.
Edgeworth opened his eyes. “Thank you.” His hand didn’t even shake as he pulled the phone from his pocket, and he didn’t take his eyes off Gumshoe as he dialed.
“Yes, I need an ambulance. A man’s been beaten fairly heavily. Yes, he’s breathing, and conscious.” He gave the address of the office, and a few more details - no immediate danger, he knew not to move him, no known underlying conditions. He paused, for a moment, eyeing Gumshoe. “No,” he said, answering some question, “that won’t be necessary. There is an officer on the scene.” He nodded a few more times before holding the phone away from his ear. “They’re on their way,” he announced.
“Still don’t think it’s all that bad,” Gumshoe mumbled, sticking his hands in his pockets. He was starting to get a bad feeling about this. Mr. Edgeworth was staying just out of reach, and keeping his movements slow. Like he was facing a growling dog, teeth bared and hackles raised, ready to leap at the slightest provocation - and Gumshoe wasn’t like that. Mr. Edgeworth knew that. Didn’t he? He had to.
But he was acting like Will Powers and Agent Lang and von Karma and Wright. He was acting scared.
“Uh, sir, I - “
“I think it would be best to discuss this after the paramedics arrive.”
Gumshoe sighed. Was Mr. Edgeworth mad at him? What did he do wrong? He was just helping. Maybe he needed to explain - Mr. Edgeworth was always a little weird about Wright. Maybe he didn’t realize how this was for his own good.
For now, he let his head hang low, trying not to pout but doing a bad job of it. “Yes, sir,” he said.
They stood for a moment in tense silence, Gumshoe looking at the ground, Edgeworth looking at him. Then Edgeworth spoke again: “May I - may I see him?”
“Huh?” Gumshoe looked up, frowning. “Whaddya mean?”
“I want to check on him.”
“Oh, uh. Well, of course, sir, you can do whatever you want.”
Edgeworth nodded seriously. “And will you… stay back?”
Oof, that hurt more than any feeble resistance Wright could’ve put up. “I’d never hurt you, sir,” Gumshoe said, tears threatening. “Don’t you know that?”
“I didn’t think you’d do this, either,” Edgeworth snapped. Then he blanched, taking a step back, but Gumshoe didn’t fly into a rage and hit him or anything like that. After a moment, Edgeworth relaxed, but the wariness didn’t leave him. He sidestepped around Gumshoe, giving him a wide berth until he arrived at Phoenix’s side. Gumshoe didn’t move. Even so, Edgeworth hesitated for a long moment before turning and kneeling.
It wasn’t like he was going to do anything to help anyway. Gumshoe kicked at the ground, scowling. What was he doing here anyway? Was he just visiting Wright? He really needed help, huh?
A few minutes later there was a noise from outside. Edgeworth leapt to his feet, staring at Gumshoe, as the paramedics pushed through the already ajar door. They spotted Wright immediately, and Gumshoe found himself ushered out into the waiting area, along with Edgeworth, while the paramedics descended on Wright. It was a lot of noise, talking fast, clattering and rustling and a yelp of pain from Wright, and too quickly they had him on a stretcher and were wheeling him out. Edgeworth managed to get the name of the hospital they’d take him to before they vanished.
Then it was just Gumshoe and Edgeworth.
Edgeworth stood in the door, watching, until the elevator doors closed. He waited for another minute or two. Gumshoe couldn’t tell much from his back, but then, maybe he could; the set of his shoulders looked tight and tense. Maybe he needed a back rub. Probably had some tension.
Before Gumshoe could suggest it, though, Edgeworth stepped into the waiting room and closed the door behind him. “Detective,” he said. “Tell me what happened.”
“Hah, uh, well.” Gumshoe scratched the back of his head. “So I came to have a talk with Wright, and then he didn’t want to listen, so I had to make him listen. I gave him a chance, sir, not my fault he had to make it hard.”
Edgeworth’s brow was furrowed. It wasn’t the look of vague disapproval he gave a lying witness, but more like when he had contradictory evidence he couldn’t figure out. “What were you here to talk about?”
Gumshoe cleared his throat. “I figured it was about time he left you alone.”
“Left me alone?” Edgeworth shook his head. “He wasn’t doing anything.”
“All due respect, sir, but that ain’t exactly right.” Gumshoe shifted his weight from one foot to the other. It all made perfect sense, but that didn’t mean he knew how to explain it. “He’s caused you a lot of trouble. And - and really, I should’ve stopped him a long time ago, and I’m sorry, sir.”
“So you did this because you think he deserved it?”
“Not exactly. I mean, a little bit. But mostly I just didn’t want him to hurt you anymore. So I told him to leave you alone and not talk to you and he, um. He didn’t want to.”
“Wright hasn’t hurt me.”
“Yes he has!” That was a little louder than it was supposed to be, and Edgeworth flinched, so Gumshoe took a breath before continuing. “He ruined your perfect record. He made you run away to Europe. Then he dragged you back to get involved in his nonsense. He - he made you be a defense attorney, sir!”
“Why would being a defense attorney hurt me?”
“Because you’re a prosecutor! And a damn good one! And you might’ve wanted to be a defense attorney like your dad but not anymore and he maybe didn’t even know, maybe you didn’t even know, but I know! I know how much that hurt you!” Gumshoe caught himself yelling again, or on the verge of it, but it turned out to be hard to keep quiet when he had so much to say. “I’m gonna protect you, sir, and keep you safe, and part of that means I gotta stop people from hurting you. I’m never gonna let anybody hurt you ever again, and I don’t care what it takes!”
He finished, breathing hard. Edgeworth was staring at him, pale, not quite trembling. But his legs definitely weren’t solid as he took a couple steps to the couch, and he didn’t sit on it so much as collapse.
“You came here,” he said, staring at something that wasn’t Gumshoe, “and you nearly killed Wright because you wanted to protect me.”
Gumshoe smiled. “Yeah! Now you get it!”
Edgeworth buried his face in his hands.
“Sir?”
“Do you even hear yourself?” he said, muffled. “You almost beat a man to death with your bare hands because you thought he would - would inconvenience me?”
“It’s a little more than an inconvenience, y’know. See, you can’t even tell! You don’t know what’s good for you, sir.”
“And you do?” Edgeworth lifted his head; his eyes were red and watery. Why was he crying?
“Yes, sir,” Gumshoe answered, dropping to a knee in front of the couch. He reached into the pocket of his coat and produced a grubby packet of tissues, which he presented like an offering. “I’m always gonna do what’s best for you.”
Edgeworth took the packet automatically, then stared at it. “You - dear God, Gumshoe, have you done this before?”
“Uh, well… most people are willing to listen to reason.”
“Most.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Who didn’t? How many people have you done this to, Gumshoe?”
“Honestly, it’s not a big deal,” he said, grinning sheepishly. “Like, um… Wendy Oldbag.”
Edgeworth flinched at the name. “You’re the reason the bouquets stopped.”
“Yeah. See? I knew they were hurting you, so I stopped them.”
“She was an innocent old woman, Gumshoe. Completely harmless. And you - you could’ve killed her.”
“No, no,” Gumshoe answered, raising his hands defensively. “I mean she got a little bruised and I think there might’ve been a real minor fracture but she was fine! I haven’t killed anybody who didn’t deserve it.”
Edgeworth’s eyes flashed. “You haven’t killed anybody who didn’t deserve it.”
“Of course, sir!”
“Who did deserve it?”
Gumshoe clamped his mouth shut, biting his lip. He was sure that he shouldn’t tell Mr. Edgeworth about that. It was one thing to rough somebody up a little but murder - well, even he knew it was crossing a line. And Mr. Edgeworth seemed really upset right now. Not that he should be - Gumshoe had taken care of anybody who could bother him. But he was upset about something, and he didn’t need Gumshoe bringing up bad memories.
“Detective?” Edgeworth prompted. “Did you kill someone?” He was shaking now, honestly shaking, fist clenched tight around the tissues. “Did you kill Manfred Von Karma?”
Gumshoe gasped. “How’d you know?”
In answer, Edgeworth sank into the couch. “I should’ve known,” he mumbled. “I thought it was suspicious. He’d never - but why? He was already condemned.”
“It takes too long for executions to get scheduled,” Gumshoe answered. “And as long as he was alive, you were scared of him. So I helped.”
Edgeworth let his head fall back. “You helped.” He laughed, short and bitter. “Who else? Who else did you help me with, Gumshoe?”
“I didn’t kill anybody else,” Gumshoe answered. “Everybody listened before I had to.”
Edgeworth laughed again. “I trusted you,” he said, looking down at Gumshoe. “I trusted you with my life. And I was wrong.”
“No!” Gumshoe grabbed Edgeworth’s knee. “You can trust me, sir! I’d never hurt you! I’d do anything for you!”
“This isn’t - “ Edgeworth ran a hand through his hair, pushing back his bangs. “Christ. What now? What the hell am I supposed to do now?”
“You don’t have to do anything,” Gumshoe answered. “I’ll take care of you. I always have. I’ll make sure Mr. Wright doesn’t bother you, and - and then we can put this all behind us, right?”
“You can’t hurt people, Gumshoe.”
He frowned. “They were gonna hurt you. You’re more important.”
“I’m not - “
“Yes you are! Sir, you’re the most important person in the world! You’re gonna change the world, and I’m gonna do anything I can to help! And that’s way more important than some old lady or stupid agent or movie star - “
“Movie star? Agent? Wait,” and he sat up, “Will Powers? Lang? You did this to them too?”
“Well, no, Will I just had to talk to a little. But, um, Agent Lang was a little harder to convince.”
“Those injuries - “
“He’s scrappy!”
“I guess that answers the question of why he’s not answering my calls,” he muttered. Then he tilted his head. “Are you telling me you got in a physical fight with Agent Lang and won?”
“Yes, sir!” Gumshoe stood up a little straighter. “He fights dirty, too.”
Edgeworth nodded slowly, taking in this new information. “Regardless, it’s still appalling that you would do such a thing.”
Gumshoe frowned. “But, sir - “
“Wright is my friend. Or at least, he was, before this.”
“But - but I’m your friend too, sir.”
“Is that what you think this is?”
Gumshoe shrank back. “We’re - we’re not friends?”
Edgeworth sat up, raising a hand, then stopped before speaking and sat back again. “That’s not what I meant.”
Gumshoe could’ve cried from the relief. “I’d do anything for you, sir,” he said.
“You said that already.”
“I mean it!”
Edgeworth rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I - shit. I don’t know - what the hell am I supposed to do now?” He shook his head. “No, I know exactly what I’m supposed to do. I should have you arrested - I should have you committed.”
Gumshoe shook his head. “Please, sir, you don’t hafta do that. I’m not gonna hurt you.”
“I don’t want to, Detective. Even after this, I don’t - what, exactly, do you think Wright is going to say?”
“Oh, he won’t say nothing,” Gumshoe replied. “He knows better now!”
“Shit.” Edgeworth took a deep breath; Gumshoe had the distinct impression he was counting. “Right. I need to think about this. All of this. Maybe I can convince Wright not to press charges.”
“I just told you, sir, he won’t - “
“In the meantime,” Edgeworth continued, silencing Gumshoe with a glare, “you can clean up the mess you made in there. And wash your hands.”
Gumshoe glanced down. His hands were still smeared with blood. “Yes, sir.”
“Wait.” Before he could move away, Edgeworth grabbed his wrist and pulled it closer. He flipped Gumshoe’s hand over. “You’re injured.”
Gumshoe looked closely; his knuckles were bleeding in a few places. “Oh, that’s nothing, really,” he said, but Edgeworth had already extracted a tissue from the neglected packet and started dabbing at the wound.
A moment later he frowned at the blood-streaked tissue. “Go wash your hands,” he said, crumpling it. “Then, clean.”
Gumshoe wandered out into the hall and found the bathroom. He washed his hands carefully, scrubbing under his nails and around the edges, and came out with squeaky clean hands. The only blood left on them was the small amount oozing out of his scraped knuckles. He made his way back to the office and found Edgeworth holding a small box.
“Come here,” Edgeworth commanded, so Gumshoe did. Edgeworth proceeded to open the box - a first aid kit - and spray something that stung on Gumshoe’s hands, covering the wounds with a few squares of cotton and wrapping the whole thing securely in gauze. “There,” he said, snapping the kit shut and tucking it back into the bookcase where he’d found it. “Now, clean the office. And tomorrow we’ll see if we can convince Wright to let you off the hook.”
Gumshoe smiled wide. “Thanks, sir.”
Edgeworth snorted and looked away. “Don’t thank me yet. I expect this will all go to hell soon enough. I’m not covering for your mistakes, you understand? I won’t lie for you. I simply - don’t want to have to find another detective.” He cleared his throat. “Hurry up. It stinks in here.”
“That’ll be the puke!”
“Lovely.”
Edgeworth sat on the couch in the waiting area as Gumshoe set about cleaning. He mopped the floor, disposing of several buckets of pink water, and scrubbed the splatter off the walls. The desk was pretty ruined, but he did his best to put it back in place and piled it with office supplies and the laptop, now in two separate halves. When he finally had the place as clean as he could get it, he came back out to find Edgeworth still waiting for him.
“You’re coming with me,” Edgeworth said as he stood up. “So I can keep an eye on you until I decide what to do with you.”
Gumshoe nodded. “Sure thing, sir.”
Edgeworth looked him up and down. “You won’t hurt me.”
Was it a question? “Never, sir.”
“Very well.” Edgeworth drew himself up tall as he could. “I’m considering locking you in one of the guest rooms, as a precaution.”
“That’d be okay, if that’s what you wanted, sir!”
“I’m considering it.” He shook his head. “Come along.”
Gumshoe followed Mr. Edgeworth to his car, where he was very careful not to get any blood on anything. Edgeworth still gave him a disapproving look, so Gumshoe tried not to take up much room. When they arrived at Edgeworth’s house, he tagged along as Edgeworth led him to a room that was bigger than his apartment.
“Do not leave this room until I tell you otherwise,” Edgeworth said, ushering Gumshoe through the door. “Understand? I need to decide what is to be done with you.”
Gumshoe pouted. “Aw, sir, you don’t gotta worry about me. It’s not like I’m gonna do anything bad!”
“Wright would disagree.”
“Wright should’ve taken the hint.”
Edgeworth shook his head. “Enough. I need time to think about this. For now, stay here.”
“Yes, sir!” Gumshoe snapped a salute. “You can trust me, sir! I promise!”
When Edgeworth left, Gumshoe took a quick shower - okay, not all that quick, he had a lot to wash off and Mr. Edgeworth had great water pressure and water that got so hot it was steaming. Then, finally comfortable, he crept into Mr. Edgeworth’s massive soft bed and fell soundly into a dreamless sleep.