December 23, 8:10 am
Phoenix Wright had a headache, and it wasn’t even a hangover. An experienced drinker like him needed a lot more than half a bottle of wine to feel like shit the next day. No, he felt like shit organically, because he had slept like shit.
He had been dreaming about the argument with Miles. In the dream it had mixed and shifted and confused itself with other arguments they’d had in the past. About the law. About Trucy. About Kristoph Gavin, and Manfred Von Karma. About Miles becoming the chief prosecutor.
In the dream, of course, all the arguments had happened in court, and the audience was booing while the judge ate popcorn and laughed, as Phoenix and Miles re-litigated the lowlights of their relationship.
Just when Phoenix thought he’d had the upper hand, Miles had turned it all over again on him.
“The Prosecution would like to submit new evidence.”
[Court Record Updated]
“Nick!” Maya said brightly, her mouth hanging open. “This is a picture of Miles visiting you when you were in the hospital, that time, isn’t it?”
“Yeah… I guess that’s when I asked him to defend Iris for me…”
Phoenix slunk into the office in his rumpled blue suit, bags under his eyes. It kept replaying in his mind.
Years ago, Phoenix had asked Miles to go against his principles and do a favor for Phoenix. It had been easy for him to ask, because the favor was something he felt was the right thing to do.
But it had been hard for Miles to accept, because of his principles.
Miles had done it anyway. For Phoenix.
Last night, Miles had come to him to ask him a favor. It had probably been easy for him to ask, because Miles thought it was the right thing to do.
Phoenix had turned him down.
And now with the morning light glaring at him through the cracks in the office shutters, he felt like a complete heel about it. Like a total asshole.
He should have said yes.
It shouldn’t have even been a question.
They’d known each other how long, and they were still having fights like this? Obviously Miles’ demanding attitude was never easy to get along with, but Phoenix should be used to it by now.
As he headed over to the coffee pot in the corner of the office he slipped his hand into his pocket to reach for his cell phone.
It was fine. There was always time to smooth it over. He’d just call Miles now, and ask him what time he should meet him at the airport.
“Mr. Wright!”
Phoenix nearly dropped his phone as he jumped, whirling around.
“Lady Justice, don’t fucking scare me like that!” he breathed, holding his phone over his heart as he clutched at his chest, hair standing on end.
It was just Apollo. Of course it was Apollo. Only Apollo would call his name at the top of his lungs from two feet behind him.
“Sorry, boss,” he said with an apologetic smile. “I was trying to get your attention for the last minute and a half but you were somewhere else.”
“Oh. Uh. Sorry about that.” Looked like it was his fault after all. As usual. “You look like you could use a cup of coffee, Apollo.”
“Already got one,” he said, holding it up. That didn’t change the matter that Apollo looked like Phoenix felt. Phoenix could see the bags under the kid’s eyes like he was looking in a mirror.
“Always room for another,” Phoenix shrugged. He poured himself one into a paper cup, and then offered the carafe to Apollo. Apollo shrugged too, and Phoenix topped him up. “Cheers.”
“Cheers, boss.” Apollo raised his cup and sipped it as they stood together by the coffee machine, quiet for a moment.
Phoenix fidgeted with his cell phone. Apollo was wearing that blue coat on his shoulders again. The eyepatch was long gone, but the blue coat seemed to keep coming back. It worried Phoenix. The kid had been through a terrible shock only a couple of days ago. Phoenix sympathized. It reminded him of when he’d lost Mia.
He’d call Miles in a few minutes. He’d better check on Apollo first.
“So… how you doing, buddy?” It was a terrible opening. But Phoenix was pretty terrible at small talk when it didn’t involve shoving evidence in people’s faces.
“Huh? Oh, I’m fine, sir. You?”
‘I’m fine’– Apollo’s funny little catchphrase. Yeah, Phoenix knew it was horseshit.
If you’re fine, Apollo, then I’m on cloud fucking nine this morning.
“Glad to hear it. I know you’ve been through a lot the last few days. I was thinking, if you need some time off, we don’t have a huge caseload now or anything, you could–”
Apollo cut him off.
“Actually, about that, Mr. Wright. I am going to be leaving the office for a few days.”
Not what I expected to hear. But good. The kid deserves to take care of his mental health. It won’t be a problem just to close the office for a few days while I’m out in Cauli for Miles..
“Oh! Hey, that’s great. Maybe you could take Trucy and Pearl to Funland this weekend. Pearl’s only got a week left on break, and I got some free tickets from one of our old clients.”
Apollo shook his head.
“Sorry, sir, I probably won’t be able to do that. I’m going to be out of the country. Athena too– she asked me to tell you, because she was in a hurry this morning.”
Phoenix got a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach, like when someone submitted an updated autopsy report.
“You’re going out of the country,” he repeated dryly.
“Yes, sir. I know it’s last minute, but Chief Prosecutor Edgeworth asked for our help in a case just this morning.”
And there it was. Phoenix felt like he’d been smacked across the face. He sagged against the desk that held the coffee machine.
Phoenix had turned Miles down, so Miles had asked Apollo and Athena.
And his adorable, idealistic young lawyer proteges had said yes. Despite everything.
“Miles asked you to fly out on a case out of the country at a moment’s notice,” Phoenix repeated out loud. “And you two said yes.”
“Yes sir.”
“Three days after… Apollo, please tell me Prosecutor Edgeworth told you what he wants you to do out there.”
“Yes sir,” Apollo nodded again. His brow was knit, and his face was serious. “We’ll be playing defense in the Phantom Organization case. Making sure the chief prosecutor can feel confident he’s bringing the right person to justice.”
“And… you realize that that may very well end up putting you in a position where you’re defending the person that you actually want to put in jail? The people responsible for sending the man who killed Clay?”
Apollo tensed up, but he nodded. “Yes, sir. I’m fully aware of that.”
Phoenix had said no to Miles. Phoenix hadn’t been able to put himself in the position of defending someone who might have hurt Apollo and Athena. Athena, maybe, was better for the whole experience at this point– but Apollo? Phoenix was already worried he’d never be the same again.
But Apollo had said yes, where Phoenix had said no.
And Phoenix didn’t understand.
“Will you tell me why, Apollo? Why you said ‘yes’ to a request as insane as this?”
“I’m sorry, sir. My feelings about the matter are my own.”
In Phoenix’s mind’s eye he saw Apollo suddenly swallowed by a dark abyss– and there were five great locks on the chains that surrounded his heart.
That’s the last straw.
“Alright, Apollo, I won’t cross-examine you about it.” Phoenix played it off like it was a joke, but it wasn’t a joke. “But I’m not letting you and Athena do this alone. I’m coming with you.”
“Mr. Wright?”
Phoenix shook his head. “I don’t want any argument. I’m doing this as your boss– and as your friend. Now come on. Let’s finish this cup of coffee, and then I’m gonna have a talk with Mr. Edgeworth.”
December 23, 9:15 am
Three days ago, Simon Blackquill had discovered the secret that the man he’d known for a year as “Bobby Fulbright” was actually the man who’d killed his mentor, and led to him spending seven years in jail on death row.
Today, Simon was trapped sitting next to the man on a 14 hour overseas flight.
He had put ‘Halblicht’ on the window seat, since that seemed the safest place for him. Simon didn’t like the idea of him getting up and down without supervision, or of trying to follow him around the plane. And Simon had promised to fill Ema in on the details– so she was sitting on the aisle seat. And Simon was sitting between them.
Simon glanced over at Ema’s seat. Now that take off was finished and they were in the air, the forensic investigator had gone to go find something to drink. Simon could hardly blame her– he felt the urge himself. But there was no way that he was going to dull his senses in any way while he had custody of the damned Phantom.
He glanced over at the man and saw him flipping through a sky mall magazine with a bored expression on his face. It was infuriating to see him doing something so patently normal. Simon knew that was a completely ridiculous thing to be irritated about. Even an evil, emotionless killer wouldn’t be doing evil, emotionless killer things all the time. But he hated the way it made him seem… normal. Hated the way it made him seem human and not like some killer robot.
He hated the way it made it so easy to feel like things were the same as they were four days ago. He’d seen “Bobby Fulbright” do a thousand normal things. Read comics. Buy stupid merchandise at gift shops. Eat noodles. Play with his hair. Fall asleep.
Watching him flip through the stupid magazine made it feel like they were just working another case together like they had the past year.
The prison had never let Simon out of the country during that year– not that he could blame them– but imagine if they had? He could imagine being on this plane, handcuffed tightly to Bobby, who was laughing and showing him stupid trinkets for sale in the catalog. He could imagine tugging Bobby to the bathroom with him– no going anywhere without the man after all– and making out or even joining the mile high club with his idiot watchdog detective. The remembered sensation of soft, white leather gloves on his bare chest fluttered through his mind.
The idea brought a flush to his face, and he swallowed thickly, looking away fast.
He couldn’t stand himself for even thinking about it. He felt a numb, heavy sensation in his stomach and wished the idea would make him feel even sicker than it did. The whole thing was sick. He’d gotten such a thrill out of sneaking around with the man at the time, but now it was worse than ruined. Retroactively turned into a disgusting farce with his own dignity as the punchline. He’d been fucking Metis’ killer for a year, and the man didn’t even have the depth of emotion to have been laughing up his sleeve about it.
Simon’s face grew hotter with the combination of embarrassment and anger, and he picked at the hem of his jinbaori and wished that he’d been able to take Taka with him on the flight. But the bird was safely hooded and jessed in his cage with the luggage. Surely enjoying a much more peaceful flight than his master was.
“Prosecutor Blackquill?”
Simon nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of ‘Halblicht’ addressing him, and he whipped around like a striking snake to face the man.
“What is it, Half Wit?” he hissed. Once again he felt the unsettling disharmony of emotions, as he saw the earnest, startled expression looking back at him from beyond amber lenses. What the hell was going on in the Phantom’s head?
“Ah, you just looked… bored, sir,” he said, poking his fingers together awkwardly. It was such a familiar gesture from him. “I was going to ask if you wanted to borrow the magazine.”
Simon’s brown knit. “You wanted to know if I wanted to look at the magazine.”
It was just such a stupid fucking Bobby Fulbright thing to offer.
“Yes, sir. It has a whole section of garden gnomes,” Halblicht offered with a nervous smile.
“A whole section of garden gnomes,” Simon repeated. “And why would I care about that?”
“I thought you might find it amusing, sir. Or… maybe your bird would like to sit on them?”
Simon thankfully found the flush from before receding from his cheeks, settling into a dull, exhausted black humor.
“You thought Taka would like to sit on them.”
Simon thought about how easy it seemed like it would be just to let himself fall into the old, easy banter between himself and the detective. Like an old Japanese manzai comedy routine– the detective the foolish boke spouting nonsense, and Simon the long-suffering tsukkomi, losing his patience.
“My bird seems to like you. I thought he had better taste than that.”
Halblicht continued to smile. “Maybe he just thinks my hair is a snack, sir.”
… Simon couldn’t let it happen. It would be wrong to let that happen. He had to put some distance between himself, this man, and the memory of Bobby Fulbright.
He sighed. “Forget the magazine, detective Halblicht. Why don’t you tell me about yourself.”
The smile froze on the man’s face. “Myself, sir?”
“Sure. After all, we’re going to be working together and we’ve hardly even just met.”
Now it was Simon’s turn to smile. Had the phantom even had time to come up with who this ‘Halblicht’ was supposed to be, other than ‘definitely not Bobby Fulbright‘? Simon didn’t think that he had, and he was willing to bust his balls about it. And if the man had some up with a convincing character, all the better to put distance between him and the character he’d been playing last time they’d worked together.
“Ah, sure! Right, of course!” Halblicht rubbed the back of his neck and grinned. “What would you like to know?”
December 23, 9:20 am
Phoenix had started the conversation with Miles by apologizing. He’d apologized again in the middle, and Miles had told him not to do it a third time. Then Miles had apologized for putting so much pressure on him on such short notice. They’d both agreed that their tempers had been short last night, and they hadn’t been their best selves. They’d just move on and forget about it, like so many arguments they had had in the past.
Miles was right. It was best not to dwell on it. Not when they had so much to do. But at least they’d cleared the air before being trapped on a 14 hour flight together. Phoenix could think of few things he’d rather do less than be stuck on a plane next to a lover he was in the middle of an argument with.
He’d started packing while he was still on the phone. It went faster after he’d hung up but he’d needed something to do with his hands. And now he was done. Hopefully it wasn’t going to be a long trip, or he’d probably need to have things sent over. Well, he supposed Trucy wouldn’t mind. She’d want to be helpful anyway. She wouldn’t like being left behind, so Phoenix was planning to frame it as putting her in charge of the Wright Anything Agency while the rest of them were gone.
Still there was one thing he needed to do before he broke the news to her, and then got himself to the airport. He would call Iris and ask her if she could come down and stay with the girls for the last week before Pearl went back to the village. He was sure she wouldn’t mind. Ever since she’d gotten out of jail she’d been living in Kurain, and now while Maya was training out of the country, she’d been the one looking after Pearl.
He was getting out his cell phone when there was a knock at the door.
“Hey daaaaddy…”
It was Trucy, and that was her wheedling voice. Trucy wanted something, and Phoenix wasn’t in a position to say no if he was going to disappear out of the country and leave her at home.
“Uh, yeah, sweetie? Come on in.”
The door opened a crack, and Trucy, smiling brightly, slipped into the room with her hat in her hand.
She absolutely wanted something. Probably something big. Phoenix was glad he had some money in his wallet.
“Morning, daddy!” she chirped. “Oh! You’re already packed, that’s wonderful! Did he call you too?”
All the wind was knocked out of Phoenix suddenly.
Surely Miles couldn’t have asked her to come along? Or maybe Apollo had?
“Uh….” Phoenix’s lawyer brain kicked in. “Did who call me, precious?”
“Mr. Gavin!” she cooed with excitement. “I got a call from him this morning! He’s shooting a commercial and he wants to invite me and Pearly to go watch! I was coming to ask you if that was okay.”
Relief flooded Phoenix.
“Oh! Uh, actually, I was packing for something different that I was just about to tell you about, Trucy!” he grinned widely. “But hey, if Mr. Gavin wants you and Pearly to go see him film a commercial, absolutely. That sounds like a great time for you two!”
Usually he would have played a little more stern and fatherly and worried about it, but he trusted Klavier Gavin quite strongly, and letting the girls go hang out with him would mean that Trucy wouldn’t be mad at him for disappearing for a few days.
Trucy squealed happily. “For real? Just like that? No takebacksies?”
“Uh, yes?” A little bit of nerves crept back into Phoenix’s relief but he was stuck for it now, especially when his little girl threw her arms around him in a tight hug. “But why no takebackies?”
She looked up at him with big puppy-dog eyes.
“Wellll…. it’s out of the country, you know? A foreign commercial. The Gavinners were really popular outside of America, you know!”
Phoenix started feeling that old sinking feeling of an upcoming turnabout for the prosecution.
“What country, Trucy?”
“Oh, uh Cauli! But remember you said no takebacksies! Anyway, what are you packing for, daddy?”
December 23, 9:35 am
Miles Edgeworth was carefully putting the last of the documents in his suitcase as his cell phone rang again. To his surprise, the caller ID had the same name as it did the last time he’d picked up the phone.
He sighed, and answered the call, hoping Phoenix hadn’t changed his mind again.
“Yes, Wright?”
He listened to Phoenix’s strained voice on the other side of the call.
“What? No, no I haven’t spoken to Gavin in days. I think he’s out of the country which is why I didn’t ask him to prosec— I’m sorry? He’s shooting a commercial where?”