Chapter Text
“Whew, that was close”
Phoenix helped Athena to gather the scattered pieces of evidence – reports, pictures, actual evidence, the autopsy report that had previously fallen on the floor when Athena had grabbed the briefcase and positively turned it upside down to get to the desired piece of evidence that she knew would blow a huge hole in Blackquill's argument as fast as she could – and place them back into her briefcase. He took in the way she was hunched over the desk, tired and a tad bit embarrassed for that fit of impatience she went through when she was all fired up, but most of all, satisfied. He placed a hand over her shoulder.
“You did great, Athena. I knew you would pull through. Truly an amazing job”
She sighed, but her eyes brightened at the compliment as she started stroking her ponytail in a furious manner.
“Thanks, boss, but I still needed your help” but he shook his head slowly, his smile unwavering and, he hoped, reassuring.
“No, not really. I merely pointed out a few inconsistencies here and there, and handed you the evidence when you decided that you didn't have time to rummage through your bag every couple of second and spilled the contents all over the bench. For the record, the purse where you keep your pads is in the left drawer of the bench. I figured you might not want everyone to see that and whisked it away as soon as it fell out, hiding it there. I hope you don't mind”
He appreciated – poor Athena, so adorable and so easy to tease – the girl's face quickly turning beef-red, way, way brighter than her own hair. She crossed her arms in front of her chest and squealed.
“BOSS!!” she all but screamed and hurried to retrieve the yellow-with-blue-polka-dots bag from it's hiding place “When?! HOW?!”
He snickered at the flustered, almost incoherent sentences spilling out of the youngest attorney at his agency as she forcefully thrust the little purse in the farthest corner of her case.
“Nnngghh, that wasn't supposed to happen” she whined softly “I really hope nobody saw that!!”
"What if Simon saw it?!?" Widget chirped, mimicking Athena's distressed voice and earning a scandalized “WIDGET! You little treacherous...”.
Athena covered her face with both her hands, overwhelmed by the double attack from Phoenix and Widget, and Phoenix was sure he could almost see a faint trace of steam coming out of her now scarlet ears, for how intensely she was blushing.
“Oooh! So it's 'Simon' now, huh? I sense a new development in the air”
She slapped him lightly – Athena Cykes's definition of lightly was a little bit different from his own, but he'd allow it – on the arm, but then burst out laughing, all the embarrassment and tension of that last difficult trial session finally coming undone in a fit of hilarity. He joined her and retrieved the last papers still lying around.
“Thanks, mr.Wright” she finally emerged from her outburst, eyes glistering of tears of joy and amusement. She was a pretty girl, quickly growing into a gorgeous woman, and she deserved only the best life could offer from now on. He really hoped she and Blackquill would overcome all the difficulties that had torn them apart for so long.
“You really saved me out there.” she went on “I mean... both in the trial and for the... purse. I'm even surprised you touched it, most men usually go all 'eeewww, womanly things' when this kind of stuff is even mentioned” she blushed a little as she grabbed the briefcase and they started walk away from the bench, towards the double door leading to the Defense Lobby. He laughed lightheartedly at that.
“Don't worry about it, Athena. I have been a single father to a little girl for years, and trust me, there's nothing to be embarrassed about, it's all nature doing natural business. There's no reason to be ashamed of it. Trucy sure isn't, and it's perfectly fine with me”
He lifted his hand to open the door and stepped on the side to let her walk out first. She grinned and pointed at his ring finger with her head.
“Not so single anymore, though, huh, boss?” she joked, eyes trained on the golden band on his left hand. It was his turn to blush and flash a cheeky grin.
“Y-yeah, well... and by the way, we're both men, so my point still stays. And as for the trial, as I said before, you held your ground well. Keep at it and soon you'll get to go solo on your own cases”
“Heck yeah!” was the excited reply he got from the girl as he shut the door close behind them, soon followed by a “Huge success!!” beeping from Widget.
Now, in the lobby, he considered their options. They could go out for celebratory noodles again, or maybe try the new pizza shop close by, since he had a trial in two days and he wasn't planning to waste too much time, and ever since Eldoon's moved to a stable noodle shop on the other side of the city it had grown more and more complicated to go there, bus and all included. A true pity, he did miss the salty soup that used to burn his tongue and make his heart pump faster, once in a while. Albeit maybe that last one was due to the hypertension that, Eldoon had once explained, came with regular assumptions of high concentration of salt. One might wonder why a former doctor would prepare such a salt-heavy dish if he knew half of his middle aged customers would probably get an heart attack from it.
But suddenly the door leading to the hallway before them slammed open, and a sudden clamor filled the room. Athena screamed, caught off guard and backing away quickly from the mass of struggling people – something like twenty bailiffs trying to subdue someone they couldn't see – making its way across the room. And then Phoenix saw a bailiff go down, hands covering his face as blood spurted from his nose, leaving a gap through which he recognized the – boy he was stacked indeed – body builder Athena had just got guilty in the place of her defend, face contorted in unrestrained rage and mindless hatred. Worst of all, he saw something glint in his now free hand, and the holster of a nearby bailiff empty.
It was suddenly like someone had pressed the slow motion button on life. The gears clicked in Phoenix's brain, and he didn't think, how could he stop and waste time thinking, when he lunged for Athena, who was standing directly in front of the crazed man, terrified and utterly paralyzed, not realizing what was happening in front of her, and clutched her wrist, pulled her back, shoved her on the side, far from the shooting line the gun was currently trained on.
Whatever happened afterwords had been too fast for him to understand.
A beat, a loud bang, a broken breath and a sudden, burning surge of pain from his right side, soon followed by warmth, warmth that was spilling out of him, fast and sticky and crimson under the hand he had instinctively brought to the wound. Before he knew, he was kneeling on the floor as waves of scorching heat and glacial cold washed over him, leaving him out of breath and shivering. He saw the scarlet rivulets of blood pouring out of the gaping hole in his lower chest, through his fingers, and pooling on the polished floor of the courthouse.
His sight wavered, trembled, flickered until he suddenly couldn't see anything anymore, only darkness in front of him. But he could hear the sounds of the struggle getting more intense – was that Blackquill shouting and threatening the guy? He wouldn't be surprised, given Blackquill's protectiveness towards Athena – and Athena screaming and crying somewhere above him – he had entirely collapsed on the floor, when did that happen – as she pressed her jacket on the wound in the attempt to at least slow the bleeding while Widget contacted 911 on her behalf – handy, he should ask Aura if she can make a Widget for him too. Whenever she'd be released from prison. And if she didn't kill him at first sight – and whispered 'hang on, mister Wright, help is on its way' over and over.
He probably mumbled something he wasn't really aware of in response, because he felt her hand tighten on his arm and the pressure on his chest growing heavier. She was shaking like a leaf, and her voice was broken and rattled by heavy sobs. He really wanted to reach out and calm her down, smile, always smile, telling that it was alright, he'd be fine, she knew how he was, ask if she was okay, if she had been injured. But his limbs felt dead, leaden, too heavy to lift and completely insensitive, and his brain was quickly growing numb and light like a bunch of feathers.
He was... so very... tired.....
And then there was nothing else.
*********
He was in a meeting, and he was hating every second of it.
First, the massive idiot that Gaspen Payne was – how did he pass the Bar Exam with the excuse of a brain he found himself with, who had been the irresponsible fool that had allowed him an official role in law enforcement – ever so gracefully pointed out his displeasure towards the knowledge the local Chief Prosecutor had made official his less than professional relationship towards a famed – and disgraced – defense attorney, and it was everything Miles Edgeworth could do to just clench his teeth and bite down the scathing opinion of the younger Payne he held, and simply ignore the man. If anything, he crossed his arms in front of his chest, making it a point to emphasize the golden ring on his left hand as much as he could without being excessively obvious.
He had to admit prosecutor Gavin had surprised him and conquered his admiration when he nonchalantly countered with a casual remark on the complete lack of romantic action Payne had showed, or the way the young, newly appointed secretary was almost about to file a harassment complaint when Payne had showed up with roses and the umpteenth invitation to dinner she had always courteously refused.
The man had blushed furiously, clenched his fists, threw a glare at Edgeworth through those silly sunglasses of his – we're inside, Payne, please try to act accordingly to your profession – and finally quieted down.
Then they had finally came to review the latest cases they had handled, and again Edgeworth had found himself scowling at the data and at Payne, questioned the man about the excessively vague testimony that had granted his victory, earning a disgruntled “so what? I won. It's the defense's fault that they're stupid” that nearly made him snap and dismiss him on the spot. Once again, it was Gavin the one that stepped in and avoided the worst with the promise to look into the case himself, but of course it's just a precaution, because there would be absolutely no way Herr Pompadour was wrong, was it?
Then it happened, fast, too fast for Miles to fully grasp and understand what was happening.
The door to the conference room slammed open with the loudest and most high-pitched “MISTER EDGEWORTH!!!” he had ever had the misfortune to hear. A silhouette clad in a pristine white lab-coat stormed into the room and made its way towards him, so quick on its feet that he had barely time to actually land his eyes on it and follow its route until it stopped just beside him.
He stood up and found himself leveling one of his worst glares to the panting form of Ema Skye.
“Detective Skye! What in the world is the meaning of this ruckus? I demand an explanation”
But his confidence and outrage vanished into nothingness when Ema Skye's eyes met his, wide and angry and... terrified. He was reminded of the final day that sealed SL-9 finally close, the pure terror she had shown when she had honestly believed she had been the one to kill prosecutor Marshall. And the training as a detective had only made her tougher and harder to let herself be driven to emotions, let alone panic.
In general, when Ema Skye was less than aloof and mildly irritated, something was going awfully wrong.
“Mister Edgeworth, you must come with me now, without question” she breathed out, voice slightly shaking and louder than normal. He threw a glance at his side, and was glad to see that Gavin must have picked up the sheer distress in Ema's demeanor; he nodded.
“Fine, lead the way” Ema sighed in relief and immediately spun on her heels, all but making a beeline on the door – how did women manage to walk that fast on those hellish high heels would always be beyond his comprehension – and he promptly followed, hot on her trail. He didn't even acknowledge the croaking “What? What about the meeting? Miles Edgeworth, this is highly irregular, just because you're Chief Prosecutor you just can't--” as he sped past him and quickly followed Ema out on the hallway. But he allowed himself a satisfied smirk when Gavin's dangerously melodious voice cut the other man off, redirecting his attention on the matter they were previously discussing.
They descended the stairs as fast as they managed, Ema striding purposefully in front of him and ignoring the confused look they occasionally earned from other prosecutors and detectives, because Chief Edgeworth rarely took cases of his own these days, what was going on? Had there been another kidnapping?
“Ema” he hadn't realized he accidentally called her by her first name – he never showed to know her on a personal level when they were on the job, it was unprofessional and showed a terrible lack of respect towards the detective, and he knew she followed the same principles – until he saw her throwing him a mildly baffled look across her shoulder, but she still marched on at maximum speed towards the entrance. “What is going on? It's not like you to just barge in and interrupt an important gathering with such a uproar” he caught up and surpassed her just before she could head outside. When their eyes met, she felt a cold dread pooling at the pit of his stomach.
“You might want to sit down. Or at least get somewhere a bit more private” Ema whispered, and he noticed she was shaking, her lower lip was trembling, as if she was desperately holding herself from crying and unleash her anguish on the first thing she happened to find, her face deadly pale. He swallowed, mentally preparing to the worst. He stepped on the side and let her lead him again until they reached the underground parking lot. He made to pull the keys to his car out of his pocket, but Ema grumbled and grabbed him at the wrist, forcefully dragging him towards one of the fastest vehicles the Police had been issued.
“Don't worry, I got permission. I don't trust you to drive like this” Ema opened the door to the driving seat and slipped in immediately, leaving Miles no choice but walking around the car and plop himself on the passenger seat. It was surprisingly comfortable.
As soon as the door slammed shut after him, the car jerked away from the spot it was parked in and Ema threw it among the traffic with little to no consideration towards the traffic laws.
“Ema Skye” he sputtered as he struggled with the lock on his seat belt, not really easy to secure when the car was darting around so much. Ema's fist slammed heavily on the switch close to the wheel and the police siren above them came alive with an ear piercing whine.“I demand to know the reason behind this disdainful behavior”
He saw Ema stiffen, her hands clasping even tighter at the wheel. She didn't look at him when she finally decided to speak up (and perhaps, considering how fast they were buzzing through the trafficked streets of the city, that was the most reasonable course of action).
“There's been an incident, at the courthouse” she swallowed and blinked rapidly, trying to will away the tears that were threatening to spill out of her eyes, usually so cold and detached and now wide with barely restrained agony. He stared at her, waiting for her to continue.
“A shooting”
Miles's world stopped for a second that felt like an eternity, an eternity in which his brain put the pieces together and he was nine again, entrapped in a small cabin – a car, an elevator, it was similar – and a shot was echoing loud and clear across the empty courthouse's hallways.
His breath hitched in his throat; suddenly there was not enough air in the small vehicle, and the engine rumbling violently beneath their feet could be easily mistook for an earthquake. Waves of heat and freezing cold crashed throughout his system, leaving him shivering and slightly panting. His brain tried to regain control of the situation and he willed himself to grasp at the handle of the car door, the feeling of the smooth plastic beneath his skin somehow a reminder that he was in a car, that the window had been immediately and completely lowered down – probably by Ema when she heard his ragged pants – and the wind was rushing through his hair, caressing his temple, washing away the shivers.
“Ema...” he hissed, not trusting his voice not to break if he were to speak louder. He didn't care if he was barely audible over the noise of the breeze that whipped them viciously on their skin, the cold sting keeping him awake and aware of the fact that he was in a car with Ema Skye, and that there must have been a reason she was telling him this, that she had basically whisked him away from a meeting that had been scheduled more than two months prior, and that he was positively dreading what she might add to make it worse.
“The... the victim...” she choked, silent tears – anger, fury, sadness, he couldn't get a clear grasp of what he was seeing on the young detective's face – cascading down across her cheeks “is mister Wright”
A beat. Then another. Then again another.
Because it couldn't be true. Ema must have been mistaken. Or it must have been another mister Wright.
Wright. Shooting. Courthouse. Trials. Defense attorney.
The man he respected and loved the most
He felt his breath quicken, his pulse raising to dangerously high levels; he was starting to hyperventilate, the lack of oxygen made his vision flicker and shake and more than once he found himself on the verge of the abyss, unstable, just about to fall. Ema's voice reached him from far, far away.
“He's alive” the still wasn't clearly stated but it was perfectly audible in the way she had faltered. “He's undergoing surgery right now. I'm trying to bring you as fast as I can to the hospital”
He didn't say anything. His voice wouldn't come out, not to ask how the hell could this happen – not again, please not again – nor to inquiry about who had dared to commit such an unforgivable felony, he was ready to prosecute whoever the culprit was to his sentence no matter what the cost, nor to thank Ema for forcefully carrying him to the only place he felt the need to be, the meeting utterly forgotten by now. He could only hope she would understand from his silence how grateful he was to her for shoving him into a patrol car that could fly across the traffic with little problem and taking the wheel herself. She was right; he would have probably lost control of the car if she had dropped the bombshell on him while he was driving.
Right now, it was all he could do to lean forward, composure be damned, twisting and borderline scratching his hands until they were flushed and stinging, his eyes fixed on the compartment in front of him, trying to fight off the shivers that were rattling him to his very core, the shadows creeping at the sides of his vision, he had to stay focused, he had to see Phoenix and ascertain for himself that he would be just fine as he had always been once they got at the end of this new nightmare.
A nightmare is just... well, a nightmare
He didn't know how long it took for the car to finally slow down and reach the parking lot of the hospital. Minutes, hours, maybe days or even years, he couldn't discern the passing of time anymore. He felt like he had been asleep, hibernating, all throughout the journey – it couldn't have possibly be that long, it was a mere few miles from the courthouse itself – and he had just awakened, confused and brain annoyingly numb and slow on the uptake. Before the car had reached a full stop – even before they had reached an actual parking spot – he raised a shaking hand and undid the seatbelt and launched himself out of the car, barely remembering to shut the door behind him. The car's system screamed its beeping disapproval of such a reckless act, since they still hadn't reached the minimum speed required to get off perfectly safely, but Ema didn't complain and simply drove over, trying to find an empty spot, the closer to the entrance the better. He simply marched across the lot, jacket billowing in the chill breeze, and finally stepped inside.
The lady at the reception desk didn't seem too upset by his distressed appearance, nor the bite he managed to spit out a “I need to see Phoenix Wright” with, complete with table-slamming, for which he was extremely grateful. He just couldn't bring himself to care for politeness and manners at the moment; on another hand, the awful slowness with which she searched up the name on the database on the nearby computer was nerve-wracking and utterly frustrating. He had to refrain to just snarl a rough 'hurry up' more than once.
“He's in the Operating Room right now, you can wait in the waiting lobby here on the ground floor, past that door” she finally informed him as she pointed at the open double door leading to a seemingly endless hallway, on which identical, sterile doors opened in a tidy row from beginning to end on both sides. “Are you family?”
His eyes subconsciously darted to his ring, and the sharp gaze of the woman must have followed and immediately got a grasp of the situation at hand. She smiled softly.
“I see. Ground floor, third corridor on the right. There are already others waiting for him. Your husband has quite the fan-club. Small group, but very dedicated”
Despite himself, a wistful smirk found its way on his parched lips.
“He's well loved”
Ground floor, on the right.
Then he saw them. Or rather he saw her. A young woman in a shirt and bright yellow skirt, long, copper hair cascading down messily from her usually well-kept side pony tail, sitting hunched forward and with her face buried in her hands, pale hands that occasionally scraped at her skin and drew red stripes over her cheeks, over her forehead. Her lithe frame shaking violently with every loud sob and scream she let out. Beside her a red-clad young man, Apollo Justice, was busying himself to console her, holding her in his arms and rocking her gently, whispering that mr.Wright is gonna be fine and not believing a single word of what he was saying. His heart clenched painfully at the sight.
“Papa” a soft voice called out to him, and he froze on the spot. From the seat row opposite to the one he had been looking at, the closest one to the door, Trucy looked up at him. There was no trace of her usual bubbling cheerfulness – the same one that kept her from panicking that time she had been kidnapped by Aura Blackquill, and that he had admired of her – in the way she was curled on herself, her arms hugging her knees tightly, as if scared that, the moment she would let go, she would crumble into tiny pieces. But all the same, the small smile she offered him was genuine.
“I'm glad you're here” she said quietly.
“Did you believe I'd fail to show up?”
“No” she shook her head, tiredly. “I'm just happy to see you. That's all” Under different circumstances, she would have probably pouted and frowned. Now, she just looked... exhausted. Overwhelmed. As if all the happiness and cheeriness that was her trademark had suddenly vanished into thin air. It wasn't the look a eighteen years old – just turned legally adult, but she was still a girl going to high school – should ever wear on her young face.
She reminded him of himself when he was younger and it felt like the whole world had fallen on him, crushing him under its weight, under its lies and truths. She reminded him of the dangerously apathetic state her father had been verging in right after his disbarment, and during all the seven years that followed. It was a dim look, hopeless look that he wanted to erase from her eyes.
Before he realized what he was doing, he had approached her and sat on the very edge of the rigid, plastic chair at her side, pulling her into a loose, one-armed embrace. She opposed no resistance and leaned heavily against his chest, her forehead cushioned by his cravat. He found he didn't mind, especially when he felt her shivering lightly under his touch. Miles's hand grasped at the back of her head, almost on its own accord, and held her tighter against him, away from the sickly white lights of the hospital lobby, away from the far-off beeping sounds of machines that who knows how many lives were barely sustaining, away from the occasional noise of hurried steps across hallways and anxious whisperers. As if on cue, she grasped tightly at the front of his jacked, and a muffled whimper and a stronger shiver told him she had finally caved in to her despair.
“Why...” she whimpered “I don't want another dad to leave me behind”
“Ssshh, of course he isn't going to leave your side. You know how obstinate your father is” he whispered, stroking her hair softly. He wasn't really sure of what he was doing, he had never been one to offer comfort to other people - no, that had always been Phoenix Wright a nasty voice interjected into his head - but all the same he just couldn't leave her to her own devices, facing her worst nightmare all over again. He himself felt a sudden bitterness well up in his throat, painfully constricting his windpipe and forcing him to stay quiet lest he broke down in front of the one person that most of anyone else needed someone to stay collected and reassure her. She sobbed quietly in his blazer, and he found he really didn't mind if it eventually got stained.
Then a loud yelp coming from further down of the room caught Miles' attention, and upon turning his head towards the source of the newfound noise he was met with the form of Athena Cykes making haste to close the distance between them, Justice immediately following behind. Trucy pulled away from him and was quick to wipe away her tears with a handkerchief she produced from the sleeve of her pullover – skilled at tricks even at times like this – and plastered a smile over her face.
He stood, expecting to receive a somewhat formal greeting from the tear-stricken woman; what he hadn't taken into consideration was the possibility for miss Cykes to literally collapse on her knees in front of him, her form wrecked by violent hiccups and raspy intakes of breath. Her blue eyes was red-rimmed from hours of continuous weeping; it was downright odd, uncomfortably so, to see her usual smiling face contorted in what he could discern grief and regret that went beyond what words could ever explain.
“I'm so sorry” she wheezed among her sobs, trying to dry off her tears with the now utterly drenched hem of her shirt's sleeve – her jacket was nowhere to be seen, and with that the attorney badge she was so prone to proudly show off at any given chance. Truly Wright's understudy – but her valiant efforts were all in vain since new droplets kept flowing down without interruption, drawing wet lines across her flushed cheeks.
“I'm so, SO sorry, mister Edgeworth! I-I... if only I hadn't been so damn SLOW... he just... just shoved me away...” her words faded away in a fit of breathless sobs and wails “I-i-it's... my fau-fault... I'm sorry...” Justice – pale as Miles had only seen him once before, and that was when dealing with the true killer of his dear friend Clay Terran - knelt beside her, wrapping her in his arms once more, trying to offer her his handkerchief to wipe her tears instead of keeping using your shirt, Athena, it's going to be ruined for good if you keep it up, which she categorically refused because she apparently wasn't worthy of basic show of sympathy and care from her fellow co-worker.
No, Miles caught himself elaborating, more than a fellow co-worker. A friend. A brother.
But then his always logical mind switched the focus of its attention to miss Cykes' words, what had she just said – terribly familiar words – and something clicked, the picture of the crime finally complete with all the information he needed to solve the puzzle of this unpleasant incident.
Because of course Phoenix Wright wouldn't think twice to put himself in danger for the sake of someone he held dear. Why was he surprised?
He wasn't. A lot more unexpected – and upsetting – would have been the contrary. But if Phoenix Wright had ever been the type of man to let a young girl, barely twenty years old and with her whole life waiting in front of her, get shot in front of him and possibly die as a result, then Miles Edgeworth would have likely been long dead at the hand of an executioner.
Something clicked, yes, and he stared at the broken woman crumpled in a messy heap of tears, wet hair and an increasingly ruined dress shirt and skirt, begging for forgiveness even if she knew it was useless, overcome with a grief that only added to the sheer amount of suffering she had to go through up until now. He stared at her and offered her his hand.
“Stand up, Athena Cykes” his voice was steady, calm. He hoped it came out as soothing and somehow reassuring. He almost grimaced when both the attorneys sprawled on the floor in front of him looked up, bewildered at the unexpected leveled tone. He waited, without breaking eye contact with the young woman, who finally raised a trembling hand and placed into his own. He slowly pulled her up to a more dignified standing position, inwardly glad that Justice had been quick on the uptake and had rose to his feet as well, because the way she wobbled dangerously during the whole process was utterly suspicious and worrying. When he was sure she wouldn't crash again on the floor, he let go of her. Her eyes were wide in disbelief, her sobs partially subsided, now leaving the spot to quieter sniffles.
“I assure you, nobody will ever consider you at fault for this-” he closed his eyes, trying to steel himself to go through with his little speech without breaking. His eyes stung at the corners behind his closed lids. “- unfortunate misdeed. Not the police, nor myself”
“Me neither, 'Thena! I told you so!” Trucy chirped from her seat a few feet away, a small smile curling her pale lips. They all let themselves smile at the very welcome interjection.
“Pardon my apparent conceit, but I believe I am slightly more acquainted with mister Phoenix Wright than either of you are” he heard Trucy hastily stuffing a laugh behind his back and, upon utter failure, trying to conceal it as a small cough “and I'm painfully aware of the downright irresponsible habit of his to expose himself to danger without a single care for the consequences that might befall his person when people he happens to favor are involved” he tilted his head, eyes focusing on a spot just above Cykes' shoulder, as the vivid memory of one of the worst nights of his life – and he had his fair share of those – crashed over him once more.
“But at the same time, I likely would have never gone through the trouble to become so enamored of him if he hadn't possessed such a foolishly endearing quality”
Cykes looked like she was about to burst in tears again, Justice was simply staring at him as if he had just grown another head. He realized he was opening himself too much to two people that he had barely held any conversation with, that he shared a relationship with through a third party's interposition. It was absolutely terrifying, he felt bare and exposed and vulnerable and he was struggling not to just turn away with a brisk 'excuse me' and grasp tightly at his elbow, as he had always done when he had been faced with unnecessary feelings, feelings that more often than not turned out to be very necessary and that he cowardly fled from more than once.
No, he needed to do this properly. They were young, they were Phoenix's beloved employees, his most adored family of strays and he knew the pain of being a stray himself, the constant need for a solid figure to seek advice and comfort from. It had always been Phoenix the source of everyone's comfort and reassurance. It was time to rise beyond his foolish emotional walls and take Phoenix's place the one time he truly needed someone to fill in for him. He could be Phoenix Wright one more time. He had to be. How else would he be ever able to face his husband whenever he woke up from his surgery, if he wasn't able to offer support to his, their, family in the time of need?
“And as such, miss Cykes” he added as he pulled out his own handkerchief from his blazer's pocket and softly brushed it against Cykes' – Athena's – cheek, effectively drying off a last tear about to escape from her left eye “stand up tall and proud and don't give up hope until the gavel has been slammed down. A lawyer can only cry when it's over”
He somehow managed to actually offer her a small smile. She took the handkerchief handed to her – which earned her a bewildered and mildly offended stare from Justice at her side – and breathed out the faintest “Thank you mister Edgeworth” ever directed at him. He turned to Justice, who met his eyes with a steady and determined gaze.
“She's been through a lot. Bring her out of here, make her rest and don't leave her alone for the rest of the day. Bring her to your place if you must. I know she'll be safe; you'll just have to carefully explain the situation to Gavin before he comes to know there's a young woman in your house from potentially malicious third parties.” Apollo spluttered, face quickly warming up and antennae as upright as he had ever witnessed them to be, but then nodded; they quickly exchanged contact info for eventual updates on Phoenix's condition and Miles watched as Justice quietly coaxed the younger attorney to follow him along the hallway, covering her shivering form with his coat.
He let out a shaky breath he wasn't aware he had been holding until now, the enormity of what had happened, and what he just did against all the odds, finally slowly catching up with his brain as it gradually came down from the overdrive state it was in. The bitter lump in his throat came back, but before it could fully suffocate him a couple of thin arms circled his waist and pulled him into a warm embrace, tight but not too much, holding him close but not entrapping. He stiffened for a second, because Phoenix wasn't here, he couldn't be here, he just went through all of this trouble just because Phoenix was injured, if he had been here all along making fun of socially inept Miles trying to console his employees without any real need, he swore...
But a quick glance downwards confirmed him that Trucy was at his side, leaning against his chest. He relaxed and draped an arm across her shoulders, pulling her close. She hummed her approval.
“That was impossibly cool, papa, you know?”
He felt a rush of heat surging from somewhere inside him, and he was sure he was blushing. He forced himself not to immediately disentangle himself from her and go hiding somewhere, perhaps behind that pillar over there. He smiled instead.
“Thank you. Your friend seemed she was in bad need of some comfort. I just did what your father would have done in my place”
Her grin widened, and even if her eyes were still shining with the last traces of the tears she had poured earlier, red rimmed and puffy, the natural radiance she always so naturally cast on everything and everyone around her was finally returning to her. And that was enough to actually make him smile for real, which came to a surprise even to himself. It was no wonder Phoenix had grown so attached so quickly to this truly magical girl as if she was his true daughter.
“Daddy will be so proud of you when I tell him” she added, closing her eyes. He winced at the thought of Wright's possible reaction. He'd either spit out that “awwww you're such a cutie under those stiff ruffles of yours, Miles” that he loathed so much, or he'd have the laugh of his life. Both were immediately accounted in his brain's “absolute worst case scenarios” folder.
“Please refrain from revealing this extremely embarrassing exchange to him if you care for my mental sanity. He'll never let me live it down”
“Aww, but there's actually nothing to be embarrassed about! On the contrary, it was amazing and worth of praise! You would be a great mom!”
He let out a quick, amused laugh at that. “Of course”
“Hmm, and Daddy will only fall in love even more than what he already is, if that's even possible. 'Cause he's a sucker for this kind of things. But he's amazing. The two of you are probably the coolest and most awesome people in the world”
By the end of that sentence, he was positively blushing. To be more precise, his face felt on fire; to be even more precise, because attention to details was everything in his line of work, his whole being felt like it was about to simply burst into flames. Like an actual phoenix. The irony.
He lowered his head, letting his bangs cascading down and shield his eyes from Trucy, and stared intently at a particularly interesting patch of pristine, spotless white wall at their side.
It took him an embarrassingly long time to calm himself down enough – he cursed the autonomous innervation that had spiked up his heart rate and that had refused to subdue to his conscious will – before he felt ready to face her again. But she beat him to it.
“Say, papa” she whispered “Daddy will be alright, won't he?”
“Without any doubt”
“What about you though?”
He bristled, but something he felt a faint pang of dread in his gut at her words. As if she was seeing right through him – it was probably the case if Phoenix's description of the Gramarye family abilities was the truth – and knew exactly what was upsetting him the most, deep down. He was almost scared of the possible answers he could get when he replied with a “What about me?” that sounded a lot more calmer than what he was.
The look she leveled on him was almost chilling with the sheer intensity and focus her blue eyes displayed, and she suddenly looked a lot – too much, how could it be when they were not even actually related by blood – like Phoenix, Phoenix when he was serious and had just figured out the real truth behind his case, the key that would let him turn it all upside down once again, in the way her jaw was set, or her slight frown. He swallowed nervously.
“Will you be alright? I mean... this incident in particular--”
“Don't” he cut her off, the word coming way harsher than he had meant. Of course she knew, of course her father would tell her. He made to step away, put some distance, but Trucy Wright, true daughter to his father – blood is thicker than water, they say. Truth is that the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb – immediately grasped at his blazer, keeping him there.
“Daddy didn't tell me anything but the basic facts” and he was surprised to hear her voice quivering “I just want to tell you that we're family, and I might not be Daddy but I too want to be there for you. We're family, we have to stick together and look out for each other”
Definitely Phoenix Wright's child. Stubborn and full of love and ridiculously, foolishly selfless. Whoever dared to claim she wasn't his real kid clearly understood nothing about life. She was a Wright to the core. She was their daughter.
Before he knew it she was back in his arms, both clenching tightly at each other, Trucy openly crying as Miles merely stood there, jaw clenched to the point it hurt and unable to completely shut away the single tear that managed to escape his eye and slowly made its path downwards.