Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Wait up!” the child says, running up next to where Miles walked. “Hey, why do you walk so fast?”

Miles shakes his head. “Larry, there’s no need to walk slowly. I mean, I’m only trying to get from one destination to another.” 

“I mean, come on. Look at poor Phoenix back there. He’s walking slow, and he can barely even see you when you go this fast!” Larry replies, pointing behind him. 

Miles looks, and sure enough, the other boy is slowly walking. His hands are in his pockets, and the spiked hair behind him sticks out even more unruly in the humidity, but if he has noticed at all, he doesn't seem to care. His eyes are instead trained on a butterfly in front of him; he doesn't move to catch it or chase it, he just observes it, a small smile on his face. 

Miles has always envied both Larry and Phoenix, for being fun, carefree, and sometimes naive. His father has always encouraged him to have more fun, but it has never come to him as easily as it has for his friends. 

Phoenix must have felt Miles’s eyes on him because he looks away from the butterfly to meet Miles’s gaze. His small smile begins to grow to meet his eyes, and he raises his hand from his side to wave. He's more excited to see Miles in that instance than Miles has ever been for anything, and he feels his face heat up.

He turns back to Larry. “Okay, I'll slow down.” 

-

Checking into hotels has become a common occurrence in Miles Edgeworth’s life. He used to detest it, preferring to not leave his apartment unless for a job, but now, his apartment is far behind him. He’s currently in Dublin, Ireland, approximately five thousand miles from home. 

His bag is light, he didn't want those who searched his apartment for any clues of a possible murder (particularly the more…persistent). He has a lot of enemies, and he worries his note will somehow be proven to be fake. Stranger things have happened, so packing light (only the essentials, and buying extra on his travels) has helped alleviate any possible suspicion. No one here knows him as Miles Edgeworth, prosecutor, but rather just Miles, traveler.

When he reaches his hotel, he puts his items in the drawer and sits down on the bed, putting his glasses on the bed stand beside him.

Though he’d never admit it, he feels terrible for leaving people behind. Gumshoe, who he knows will have to find somewhere other than Miles’s office to eat lunch. His sister, who though she is bitter and angry at him, and always has been, is still living in his shadow and under the unforgiving criticism of her father. And Wright… that nuisance of a defense attorney, who never knew how to let things go. There were many things about Phoenix Wright that bugged him: the general unpreparedness he brought with him to court cases, the way he still spikes his hair like a foolish hedgehog, and how he goes and runs around with that little medium girl, thinking he's Sherlock Holmes with his own little Watson. 

All of those things are annoying, yes, but what annoys him the most is how he constantly gets in the way. Had he not shown up, Edgeworth would still have a perfect record, and could still be successfully living in America, reaching lengths as a prosecutor that neither Von Karma nor his sister could ever reach. If it wasn't for Phoenix, who wanted so badly to save Edgeworth when he felt he did not deserve it, who was the only one who truly ever saw him, hadn't shown up, he would have none of these feelings. These feelings hindered him from his ambitions and his record, from his life of hard work and chosen solitude, aside from lunch meetings with Gumshoe. 

Miles often wishes that Phoenix Wright could have stayed a distant childhood memory, a person he could look fondly back on and think I wonder how he's doing, rather than a person who holds all of Miles’s anger, envy, and at unfortunate times, affection. Because if there is one person to blame, it’s Phoenix Wright, at the end of it all.

-

On Saturdays, Miles, Larry, and Phoenix go to the park. It’s a nice break from sitting in the confines of the desks all day, especially for his friends, who detest sitting still. Larry goes immediately for the slides, while Phoenix more ambitiously tries for the monkey bars. 

Miles, on the other hand, likes to sit on the swings, not swinging swiftly, rather a nice rocking back and forth. He tilts his head back, sometimes looking at the sun. He imagines himself flying sometimes, growing wings like the angels do, and soaring away from this world. 

He’s swinging that morning, tilting his face back towards the sun as usual, when he opens his eyes to see his friend’s face staring back at him, with a gap-toothed smile and black spiky hair in his eyes.

“Why do you always just sit here and barely swing?” Phoenix asks him. 

“Um. Am I not allowed to?” Miles replies cautiously. 

“I mean, of course you’re allowed to. It’s a free country,” Phoenix replies, matter of factly. “It’s just kind of dumb.” 

“Well, you can think that if you want. But I think it’s relaxing.” Miles feels a sense of obstinacy rising in him. 

“Can I push you? So you can see how fun it is?” Phoenix asks.

“No.”

“I promise you you will find it fun.” Phoenix crosses his arms. 

“Hmmph.” Miles sits up, forcing Phoenix to get his face out of the way.

“Come on! I’ll prove it to you!” Phoenix grins, unbothered by Miles’s lackluster response. 

“Please? Please?”

Miles sighs. “Fine. But not too high. I don’t want to get sick.” 

“Cool!” Phoenix messily grabs the ropes on the sides, pulling them back, while Miles gulps. The swing begins to go back and forth, and he can feel it picking up speed. He feels a bit nervous at first, but does not want to show Phoenix that. For some reason, he wants his friends to think he is brave. 

He starts going higher and higher, and Miles begins to consider protesting, but then Phoenix laughs. Phoenix’s laugh is loud. It’s not a mischievous cackle like Larry’s, but a cheerful, high-pitched one, that devolves into a snort at the end. It’s a goofy laugh. Miles could not imagine himself laughing in such a careless way, but observing his friend brings him some amount of joy. For this reason, he keeps on swinging, if only to hear the laugh again. 

The swing becomes faster, and Miles begins to feel his adrenaline rise. He’s no longer scared, just invigorated. The feeling he has on this swing is what he feels in his dreams when he flies. He has no wings, but his legs don’t touch the ground, and his arms are out, and he might as well. 

“I’m flying!” he exclaims. “Phoenix, I’m flying!”

“Yes, I see you! I told you!” Phoenix replies, throwing his head back to laugh once more. And Miles smiles at his friend, who takes pleasure in such things as swings, and the Samurai on his shirt. In the setting sun, he looks beautiful, with his black hair contrasting against the hues of pink and orange.

Miles knows he should keep his eyes ahead of him, not behind him. He could topple his balance, or even make himself sick. But he sees Phoenix, and Phoenix sees him, and because of Phoenix, he can finally fly. He begins to laugh back, almost harder than he ever has.

However, he soon realizes he was flying too close to the sun when he can feel his arms propel him backward, and his legs go over his head as he topples to the floor. The impact of the floor is like a slap, and he groans in pain.

“Oh crap!” He can hear Phoenix yell. “Oh my, are you okay?”

“Yo, what happened to Edgey?” Larry’s voice yells back, his voice carrying across the playground. “Is he okay?” 

Miles murmurs, “Yes.” But it’s difficult to speak; the fall completely knocked the wind out of him. He opens his eyes, to see Phoenix’s hand, outstretched to him. 

He knows he ought to not take it. Phoenix was the one who pushed him in the first place, but he can hear sniffles and muffled sobs from his friend, and he can see how bad he feels. But he’s also in pain, on the ground, and Phoenix is there, to pick him back up. So he puts aside his pride and takes his hand. 

Phoenix pulls him up, and Miles can see the tears in his eyes. “I’m so sorry, Miles.” 

Normally, Miles would just nod, or even say a simple “Don’t worry about it,” but Phoenix is so upset, and indignant towards any wrongdoings and especially his own, so he looks at him, putting his hand on Phoenix’s shoulder.

“It’s okay. Thank you for a fun time,” he musters, as professionally as possible. His hand shakes, and as soon as he finishes the sentence, he removes it, trying to get rid of the heat in his face. Phoenix nods, wiping his tears away.

Larry runs up to them, panting. “Hey, Edgey, are you okay?”

Miles looks to Phoenix, whose brown eyes are still watery, and whose face is still flushed, and he sighs. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.”

“You’re not gonna have your dad sue Nick’s ass off, are you?” Larry laughs, and Miles shakes his head. 

“He’s a defense attorney, Larry.”

“Damn, man. Don’t expect me to know what that is.” And Phoenix laughs once again, his tears faded and a smile across his face, and right then, the pain in Miles’s body goes away.

-

It’s about one o’clock A.M. when he leaves his hotel, unable to sleep. He didn't take nighttime walks back in Los Angeles after his start as a prosecutor; he was far too worried that someone with a grudge against him would find him. But here, he’s a stranger.

The city lights reflect on the water beautifully, and he can hear music playing from speakers, coming out from various clubs. He’s never been one for clubs or parties; all the people make him far too nervous. Sometimes he wonders, though, how it would feel to go to one. Just dance and drink and mingle with strangers. He wishes he could, but in his heart, he knows he would fail. 

He approaches the bridge, wrapping his sweater around him tightly. Autumn in Europe is far chillier than he was used to back in California, and he’s always felt cold enough without the external weather. Nevertheless, he pushes through to cross it, because laying in an empty hotel room is hardly more enjoyable than the cold.

After crossing the bridge, he comes upon a church. There were plenty of churches in Ireland, but this one was smaller than many of the rest. There are murals and stained glass windows on it, portraying many scenes from the Bible.

Miles remembers when his father took him to church. It was one of the places he was conditioned to sit still, something that served him well throughout his studies. It never surprised him that people such as Dick Gumshoe never had to sit in church.  

It’s been a long while since Miles has believed in any god, or fate or whatnot. It seems foolish to him, if there was a god, he would’ve saved his father, would’ve prevented Miles from ever having been adopted by someone as heinous as Von Karma. Still, he’s always enjoyed the fine arts and observes the paintings nonetheless.

All of them have run-of-the-mill paintings of Mary and Joseph, Christ himself, Satan, and angels. He observes their wings. He scoffs. He remembers being a foolish child, wanting so badly to grow the wings of a bird and fly away, to finally be free from his own inhibitions and curses that came after his father died. He observes the angel painting again. It seems to be lifting a man out of the water, who seemed to have been drowning.

He scowls. The idea of angels is so incredibly self-righteous. His father taught him to believe in them, believe that there were people who were out there to save him. 

Edgeworth hates the feeling of needing to be saved, depending on people. This is why Wright grates his nerves so bad, he supposes. Because if there’s one thing Phoenix Wright did, it was going around, poking his nose into other people’s business, digging up old secrets, to save people. To affirm the humanity and innocence of convicted criminals, to save them from damnation in prison. If that made Phoenix Wright an angel, Miles wonders if his condemning, falsifying evidence, and wrath against those who could very well be innocent made him a demon.

Did Phoenix even help him from the accusations for the murder of Hammond because he cared about him, or because his general do-good nature made him pity Miles? 

Though it was cold outside, Miles could feel himself begin to sweat.

He took this trip to escape the evils he committed as a prosecutor, not to consider foolish questions about people like Phoenix Wright. After all, what did he care about what Phoenix thought of him? Phoenix Wright is a remnant of a life he was trying to forget. He has no need to prove to Phoenix Wright that he’s a good person, he’s done it before by aiding him in court in moments of weakness. Edgeworth’s new journey to be a good person didn’t have to involve Wright.

Shaking his head, he walks away from the church. He continues on his journey, closely observing the moon and the stars, trying to find any constellations, hell, even a UFO at this point, anything to distract him from thinking about Phoenix. 

He comes upon a children’s playground, and his eyes catch the swings. The laugh enters his head again, and he shakes his head. He can’t stop, he can’t stop seeing Phoenix’s eyes, and his outstretched hands, and his smile, and the sun.

Growling in annoyance, he walks into the nearest bar, putting money on the counter as the bartender quickly passes him a drink.

He needs to forget Phoenix Wright if this is the last thing he does. 

-

Miles hasn’t been to school in a long time. He won’t deny that it drives him crazy. If it was not for the nightmares haunting him, nor the flashbacks to his father’s scream and the gun in his hand, he would be more adamant about returning.

However, the man who stays at his father’s house with him during the days is cold and does not care for the local schools. He remembers seeing the man pick up one of Miles’s books and scowl at it.

“Is this the kind of drivel they are teaching you, nowadays?” he asks, and shakes his head. 

“Franziska is homeschooled.”

Franziska is the man’s daughter, and Miles doesn’t care for her. She’s loud and bossy. Every time they visit, she rifles through his things, calling them stupid. He’s hidden his red samurai toy away because he knows it will be called foolish. 

At nights, when the man and his daughter leave, Miles sits alone by the window, looking out at the city. He wonders about Larry and Phoenix, if they think he hates them. If they resent him at all, or if they even know what happened. Larry may have given up by now, he’s always had an attitude of “screw them”, he never wasted time. Miles admires that about him. However, he knows Phoenix, and how stubborn he is. How Phoenix has always insisted on digging, and searching, until he found the truth, even in the little detective games they played at recess. 

He has a picture of the three of them by his nightstand, one he hides during the day from prying eyes. It’s of them at the playground, a place that he once considered for children far more juvenile than he, now feels like home. They stand there, Larry on the side, grinning toothily at the camera, Phoenix laughing, and Miles smiling. But his eyes are not on the camera, they are on his friend beside him. 

He’s ten years old, and he knows enough about the world to know the different kinds of relationships that exist in the world. He remembers hearing his father talk about his mother, who he never met, with a wistful look in his eye, and a tone full of simultaneous affection and sadness. Miles knows the way he feels towards Phoenix is not similar to the way he has felt about Larry, nor anyone else, but he does not speak about it to anyone. He never spoke about it to his father, either. He loved his father dearly, but he remained often an enigma to Miles, and he had no knowledge of how his father would react, and if he had the capacity to even understand. Now, all he wants is to have five more minutes with his father. Even if he reacted terribly, he would hang on to those words as well as he could, just to hear his voice again. 

When he wakes up the next day, he hears the sister screaming, and the father trying to calm her. 

He sighs, rubbing his eyes, and sits up. The sound of paper crackling alerts him, and he panics. Grabbing for anything, air at this point, he throws his pillow aside.

He can hear loud footsteps coming up the stairs. He curses to himself, knowing that little...gremlin would come searching in his room. He finds the picture, but not before the loud sound of a door creak alerts him.

“What’s that?” she asks.

“Nothing!”

“I DEMAND TO SEE IT!” She raises her voice, and Miles winces. God, what possessed this child to be so incredibly loud? “Or else I will alert my father!” 

“Fine. Fine.” He hands the photo over to her with shaking hands. She looks at it as if it is something she pulled off the bottom of her shoe.

“Is this you...with your little friends?” she asks with a scoff. Miles wants to point out to her that she is five years old, therefore far more “little” than any of his friends, but he doesn’t.

“Yes. See? Nothing to see. Please give it back.” He tries to hide the desperation in his voice. 

“Who is this fool in the middle with pointy hair?” she laughs. “Why do you appear so fond of him?”

“I’m not. He’s just a boy that tags along with us for some reason,” Miles fibs. He feels guilty, referring to Phoenix in that way, but he assures himself it’s better in the end.

“Franziska!” his father calls out. “I’m coming up the stairs. You were supposed to be working on your studies while we were here!” 

“Okay, now put the photo away,” Miles instructs.

“You’re not the boss of me.” Franziska sniffs. God, this petulant child. 

“Please?” He asks, and she laughs.

“Begging? Wow, you really do not want Father to see this!” Her laugh is that of a hyena, piercing, and somehow evil for her age.

“Father to see what?” The door opens, and Von Karma walks in, a sour look on his face. “Miles, what are you hiding?”

“Nothing. I just… I don’t like to go around broadcasting my private property.” 

The man snatches the picture from Von Karma.“School chums, I suppose?” He asks, holding it up to the light.

“I guess,” Miles grumbles.

Von Karma usually has a look of coldness and apathy on his face, with a frown, narrowed eyes, and knotted eyebrows. Miles expects to be able to count on that, and at first, his expectations are met. However, as the man looks closer, his eyes grow a bit wider, and one eyebrow lifts. And it is at that moment, Miles knows that he knows. And he feels his hands shake, and his heart sink.

“Well.” His tone is harsh but somehow shaky.“You know, we’ve been observing for a few weeks now. I think it’s time that you come live in the Von Karma household.”

Miles doesn’t argue. “Okay.”

“We will pick you up tomorrow afternoon. Make sure to pack… only the necessities.” His fingers crease the picture, and before Miles can object, Von Karma has ripped it into pieces, throwing it into the nearest wastebasket like nothing ever happened.

Miles can feel his nails digging into his fists as he nods. “Yes, sir.” 

After they leave, Miles is incredibly anxious. He knows that once he moves with the Von Karmas in Germany, he will not have a chance to see Phoenix and Larry again. He rises out of his bed. If he can’t see them then, he will have to try to see them now. He has to make the last time count.

He runs downstairs, and outside, away from his house and to the playground. It’s Saturday, he thinks. They have to be there. The sun has not yet set, and he knows, if he picks up his pace, he can make it. 

Wiping beads of sweat off his forehead, he picks up his pace, running like he never has before. 

He always sat out in gym class, believing it to be foolish and the activity to be a waste of time, but this is a noble quest, not a silly game of dodgeball.

When he finally makes it, he can hear yelling in the distance between two voices. The loudness draws him in, he knows it’s them. Whenever clumsiness and yelling lie, so do Larry Butz and Phoenix Wright. But he would take it any day over the cold quiet of Franziska and her father.

“Woah, man! Is that Edgey?” Larry asks, seeing him across the playground. Miles turns away, embarrassed of his silence and disloyalty.

“Miles?” Phoenix calls out. His tone is hopeful, rather than disdainful, and Miles feels so much better, yet infinitely worse at the same time. Phoenix lets himself down from the monkey bars, and before Edgeworth can say anything, has come running, almost knocking Miles over with the sheer force of his arms around him.

“What happened to you? We haven’t heard from you in weeks!” Phoenix exclaims, while Larry only slowly walks over there.

“I can’t talk about it right now. I don’t…” Miles sighs. “I don’t have much time.”

“Much time for what, Edgeworth?” Larry asks, glaring. “I mean, come on, what the hell is this? You drop off the face of the Earth, then you come back, acting all weird.” 

“And for that, I’m sorry. I really am.” Miles hangs his head. “I wish I could explain any of this. But I cannot. I just wanted to see you guys again before… before I can’t anymore.”

“What does that mean?” Phoenix yells. “Are you going to die or something?” Miles shakes his head but does not elaborate.

“Yeah, come on!” Larry adds. 

“It’s been,” Miles gulps. “Truly excellent having you two as my first friends. I couldn’t ask for anything better.” He knows he sounds dramatic and vague, but he does not want to burden his friends with his troublesome life. 

“You’re going away then?” Phoenix asks, tears welling in his eyes. Miles nods, remorsefully.

“Come on, Edgey! You can’t just leave like that!” Larry hugs Miles, sobbing into his shoulder. 

“Please, just consider staying!”

“I have to.” Miles replies, but he reciprocates the hug. “But thank you.” 

Larry turns away sobbing, while Phoenix just looks at him. While Larry lets his tears fall freely, Phoenix tries to hold his in.

“Well, I had fun,” Phoenix says. “You’re the best kid lawyer I’ve ever met.” He wipes a tear away from his eyes.

Miles smiles tightly. “You’re the best defendant I’ve ever met.” He puts his arm on Phoenix’s shoulder. “It was really… really nice knowing you, Wright. I hope we can meet again someday.” 

He knows there’s little to no chance of it, and somehow, this puts him at peace.

“Yeah. I’d like that, very much.” Phoenix smiles sadly.

When he goes to bed, for the first time in weeks, Miles sleeps. And he dreams of that smile.

When the car arrives in the morning, Miles is ready. Not because he’s eager to go live in Germany, nor spend time with the Von Karmas, but because he feels at peace. His father is gone, and there’s nothing else for him here. Other than his friends, other than Phoenix, but he knows they’d be happier without them, that Phoenix would be happier than knowing about Miles’s… rather unnecessary feelings that were bound to come out eventually.

He sits in the backseat, having little to no room besides Franziska, who’s spread her legs out and her stuff all over. He doesn’t complain, he’s too tired.

He can hear yelling, and he looks behind him, seeing Phoenix and Larry. He smiles to himself, but turns away from them with a blank stare. It’s easier that way.

And when the car starts, Miles disappears beyond where Phoenix can see him.

-

When Miles calls Gumshoe, after recovering from a painful hangover, the detective is far too eager. He will admit that he missed him, the detective’s cheeriness and loyalty, but he feels terrible for leaving him.

“I’m coming back,” he says.

“What made you come back?” Gumshoe asks. “I mean, this is crazy. This is huge!”

“Um.” It’s a loaded question that Miles doesn’t know how to answer. Perhaps it’s that Europe was never for him, not even in his days in Germany as a youth. Maybe he was sick of the hotel fees and the food. Maybe he really missed law.

But perhaps it was that he missed Gumshoe’s laugh and stories. Maybe he missed walking by the beach, and seeing Larry out there, if only for a minute, laughing and selling Samurai Dogs to customers.

Or, maybe, it was seeing Phoenix Wright. Yes, they were rivals, but still, seeing Phoenix Wright there, across from him in court, two opposite sides of justice, brought out the best in him. Brought out the passion in his life that he used to lack. And when they were on the same side, especially, he felt his defenses slipping away when Phoenix looked at him as not an enemy, but a friend.

After all these years, Phoenix still cares about him. When he told him as a kid that maybe they’d see each other again, he had seen it as an empty courtesy, but Phoenix saw it as a promise. And after everything, he committed to it. Phoenix Wright has gone the farthest for Miles Edgeworth than anyone else in his life.

But he doesn’t say it, instead only admits, “I needed a change.”

The flight seems to go quickly. Maybe it’s his adrenaline or anticipation. It almost feels like everything in his life has been leading to this moment.

Gumshoe picks him up in the squad car from the airport and excitedly updates him on everything he’s missed. “Wright and your sister are back at the department,” he informs him, and Miles’s stomach knots.

He has no idea what he is to say to either of them. Sorry, maybe? For abandoning both of them at multiple different stages? Words of appreciation? He looks at Gumshoe, with a smile, and thinks of how nice it is to have a friend who loves him dearly. When they park, he says nothing, only embracing the detective.

“Oh, um. Thanks, pal,” he replies, his face beet red. “What was that for?”

Miles clears his throat, searching for a response, but finds one. “Don’t ask questions, or I’ll dock your pay again.”

Gumshoe only laughs.

When he holds the door open for him, Edgeworth’s heart begins to beat. The heartbeats are far too fast in pacing to be healthy, and he wonders if he should run far away from here. The feeling only increases when he sees a figure in a royal blue suit turn his head.

The man’s facial expression goes from neutral to confused. His eyes widen, his mouth drops. Miles’s sister, next to him, crosses her arms and furrows her brows.

“Little brother,” she growls.

“Hello, sister.” She continues to glare at him, so he turns the other way.

“EDGEWORTH?” Phoenix exclaims. “I thought-I thought you were dead!” 

Miles knows he has a long way to come to make him forgive him. But standing there, in front of Phoenix, he finally feels his coldness slip away. He remembers his laugh at the playground, the eyes so widened now that used to look at butterflies and well up with tears during inconvenience. The mouth so widely gaping he used to argue, even when his situations were so futile. Maybe Phoenix Wright is an angel, or maybe he’s just an idiot, but he’s here now, and that’s all that matters. 

And Miles smiles at him. “It’s been a long time, Wright.”