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It came about suddenly and unexpectedly, in the month of May, when Miles Edgeworth was having an afternoon cup of coffee. It was not long after Phoenix Wright had gotten himself disbarred, and as usual, Miles had him on speaker—damn the time difference, he wanted to make sure that the man was doing at least reasonably all right. Miles had just finished explaining the nuances of a particularly tricky case—with a few sidebar stories about the ridiculous antics that Kay Faraday had gotten herself into as of late—when Wright said suddenly, and in a rush, “Oh, by the by, Edgeworth—you remember that girl from the case, right? Trucy Wr—uh, Trucy Enigmar?”
“The name does ring a bell,” said Miles, both confused and amused. There was something bizarrely comforting about Wright’s graceless interjection; he’d been uncharacteristically subdued for most of the phone call, after all.
“Yeah, well, I,” Wright let out a nervous laugh, “I adopted her.”
Miles’s stomach dropped. In a half-second, bits and pieces of painful, fragmented memory came back to him. Torn away from all he knew, his father gone, a stranger shepherding him through a dismal, sterile airport— “I-I’m sorry?” he stammered, struggling to remind himself that Wright was not and never would be a monster the likes of Manfred von Karma. “You what?”
“I—god.” Wright laughed again, bitter and sad. “I know it’s not the best time for something like this, especially considering what you and I are trying to accomplish here, but…” He trailed off. “She was all alone,” he said. “I looked everywhere trying to find someone—some relative she could stay with, some family that could take her in—but the last thing she needs right now is a temporary living situation, and outside of me adopting her myself, foster care was the only other option I was left with. And she just lost her dad, Edgeworth, she needs someone who she can know is going to be there for her—”
Something stuck in Miles’s throat. Forcing down a cough, he did his best to make some sort of affirmative noise.
“—and after everything you went through at the hands of von Karma—”
The cough bubbled up; Miles clapped a hand to his mouth in an attempt to muffle the sound. “A-at the hands of von Karma?” he managed hoarsely.
Wright was silent for a moment. Then he said, “Miles, you deserved so much better than that. I know I can’t undo what he did, but—I can at least stop it from happening to Trucy.”
There was something sticking in his throat. Miles coughed again, trying to clear the obstruction. “S-sorry,” he wheezed, coughing one more time—and a miniature sunflower tumbled from his lips, landing awkwardly in the palm of his hand.
“You catching something?” Wright laughed again. The man never seemed to stop laughing when he was scared. “God, I-I’m sorry I called you about this. You have too much to deal with to begin with. I knew it was a bad idea, Edgeworth, I just—”
“N-no!” gasped out Miles, fist closing around the sunflower. He would process this new and surprisingly unsurprising information later; more important was making it clear to Wright that he was supported and—apparently—overwhelmingly loved. “No, I—I want you to know that I believe in you, Wright, and th-that you—” Damn it all, he was stumbling over his words like never before. "That you have not at all done the wrong thing when it comes to your new daughter. She is truly lucky to have you looking out for her.”
“Wow, are you okay?” Wright sounded genuinely worried. “Something I need to know?”
Christ, Miles was bad at this. Steadying himself, he said, “I am perfectly fine, Wright. I simply find myself more concerned over you than usual—and that says quite a lot, seeing as you are easily the most reckless, foolhardy person I know.”
“You sure do know how to flatter a guy.” But Wright’s voice had relaxed again, enough to reassure Miles that his cover-up had at least mostly worked.
“I admit I’m…new…to this.” Miles opened his hand again, looking down at the tiny sunflower with a small, amazed smile. “But I do hope that I will get a bit better at it.”
“MILES EDGEWORTH, YOU FOOLISHLY FOOLISH FOOL! YOU FOOL OF FOOLS! YOU—”
“I’m sorry, Franzi, are you calling me a fool?” said Miles idly, leaning back in his chair and holding the phone a safe distance away from his ear. “I really am having some trouble picking up on the subtext of this conversation.”
“DO NOT ACT LIKE THIS IS IN ANY WAY SOME SMALL BICKERING MATCH BETWEEN US!” Franziska screamed. With some surprise, Miles noticed the note of wobbly terror to her voice. “DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT KIND OF DANGER YOU ARE IN?”
Oh. “Franzi—”
“NO! I WILL NOT HEAR IT!”
“FRANZI!” shouted Miles, inadvertently forcing himself into another coughing fit. Franziska’s badly-stifled sob in response told him all he needed to know. “I will come for dinner tonight and we will discuss this matter further—”
“Do not be RIDICULOUS, kleiner Bruder, I am on my way RIGHT NOW.”
“You’re the one who’s being ridiculous! Don’t you have work?”
“Your life is more important than my work by far!” said Franziska tearfully. “How dare you insinuate otherwise?”
“Franziska, if you would only listen—”
“Listen to what, Miles Edgeworth?” snapped Franziska. “How you plan to let yourself waste away until flowers fill your lungs and I lose the only family I have? How you plan to die for the sake of a foolish defense attorney who does not deserve anyone half as marvelous as you? How you are a foolish fool in love and are yet again giving up your life thanks to a ridiculous man who—again—does NOT deserve you? Thank you, but no, I am not INTERESTED in hearing your RIDICULOUS justifications for—”
“Franziska, don’t make me shout again,” said Miles with mingled frustration and affection. Though he knew his sister cared more deeply than she would ever admit to, it was still incredibly touching when he witnessed that adoration making itself so blatantly visible. “I have no intention of letting my passions consume me. How much do you actually know about this kind of infection?”
There was a long and petulant silence.
“Exactly,” said Miles.
“UGH!” said Franziska. “Idiotischer, ignoranter, dummer kleiner Bruder, wie kannst du es wagen anzunehmen, dass ich so viel weniger weiß als du—”
“—Franzi, I really am touched that you are so worried,” said Miles a little more gently. “But I promise I will not die for the sake of love. If you like, you can come to the doctor’s with me and see what a medical professional has to say about my situation.”
Franziska stopped yelling. When she spoke next, her voice was once again somewhat tremulous. “You promise?” she said. “You promise you will not leave me?”
“Never.”
“Never ever?”
“Never ever, Schwesterherz.”
After taking a few steadying breaths, Franziska informed him, “You are sickeningly sentimental and it is an unbecoming quality. Do not call me that again or I will whip you senseless.”
“Of course, Schwesterherz.”
“I am READYING MY WHIP.”
“I love you too, Franzi,” said Miles with a little grin. “I’ve scheduled a doctor’s appointment for Tuesday. Will you be able to make it then?”
“OBVIOUSLY.”
Franziska clung to the hem of Miles’s sleeve, fingers curling under the fabric to brush against his wrist. Her face was set in the stony, impassive mask that her father had forced her to master, but the way she leaned on him and snuck furtive glances at his face made it clear that she was more concerned for him than she’d ever let him see before. For the seventh time, she said, “Is the doctor coming out?”
“As I said ten seconds ago, yes,” said Miles heavily. “My appointment is thirty seconds from now. I’m keeping track.”
“But will he be able to answer all of my questions?” Franziska persisted. “I have made a long and detailed list.”
“Well, I—” Miles was cut off by another coughing fit, and inwardly cursed its poor timing. As soon as his shoulders began to shake, he heard Franziska’s terrified inhalation, her fingers tightening on his sleeve hard enough that she threatened to rip the fabric. “Franzi, I’m fine,” he reassured her.
Tearfully, Franziska said, “Brüderchen, you told me you were fine the month before you nearly killed yourself. Forgive me if I do not entirely trust your judgment on matters so important.”
“And my life is important?” said Miles, more lightly joking than anything.
“Yes!” said Franziska, tears welling up in her eyes.
Clearly, now was not a time to joke. “Oh—Franzi,” said Miles, and turned to hug her. This was a mistake. “Franziska, OW—”
“Seeing as you are an invalid,” said Franziska, brandishing the riding crop with a glare, “the whip has been left at home.”
“And you still find it in yourself to hit me when I could be dying?”
“So you admit it! You are at risk!”
“There’s no way to win. There is just no way to win in this conversation. You have set me up for—”
“Um, Mr. Edgeworth?” said the nurse, looking between Franziska and Miles with a perturbed expression.
In an attempt to look more professional, Miles moved his chair some distance away from Franziska’s. Franziska responded to this by scooting her chair into his with enough force to nearly knock it over. “Yes, that is indeed me,” said Miles with some exhaustion, standing up with Franziska at his heels. “Here to discuss what I believe is a case of Hanahaki disease. This is my sister—”
“BIG sister,” said Franziska very loudly from behind him.
“Big sister, then. Is it all right if she comes in with me?”
“If you’re fine with it, then of course!” said the nurse, beckoning them forward.
As Miles followed the nurse down the hall, he found himself glancing at the posters and decorations adorning the walls of the office. Most were colorfully unremarkable art prints—beach scenes, butterflies, watercolor-blurry woodland creatures—but when the nurse turned right, the room they stepped into had a small, framed photograph of a little jar of flowers. Franziska’s jaw tightened as her eyes darted to the petals on the table, but Miles found himself noticing the vibrancy of each blossom.
“Mr. Edgeworth, if you’d sit down on the examining table for us?”
Feeling somewhat juvenile, Miles pulled himself up to sit on the table. Though she didn’t sit with him, Franziska stood next to him, holding onto his sleeve as though she thought he might die on the spot if she let him go. “Franzi,” he said for what felt like the thousandth time, “I am fine—”
“You are not fine. You are stupid.”
“Thank you for that much-appreciated input.”
The nurse chuckled a little and left them, shutting the door behind them.
“She certainly does not have appropriate bedside manner,” said Franziska, her eyes narrowed in the direction of the closed door. “Does she not know that Hanahaki disease—”
“—has a five percent mortality rate in this day and age?” Miles finished.
Franziska’s eyes snapped to his. “I’m sorry?”
“In this day and age, it’s extremely rare that a case can become fatal,” Miles explained.
“Miles Edgeworth, if you acquired this information off of WebMD after a lazily cursory Google search, I will whip you into oblivion and damn the fact that you’re an invalid!” said Franziska, but her eyes had lit up with visible relief. “Do you mean that?”
“Did you do any research?”
“I did not have time! I was too busy—” Franziska stopped herself, her eyes widening with horror. “Scheiße.”
“Too busy what?”
Franziska didn’t answer.
“Too busy what, Franziska?”
Just as Franziska was opening her mouth (wearing an expression much like a trapped animal), the doctor opened the door. “Miles Edgeworth?” she said warmly, and when Miles took his eyes off of a relieved Franziska to nod, she gave Miles a reassuring smile in response. “My name is Dr. Warner. I hope you’re not coming in here under the presumption that you’re going to die, because with twenty-first century medicine, that isn’t likely to happen. The general treatment for Hanahaki—regardless of severity, because even severe cases aren’t usually fatal—usually involves medication, exercise, and some kind of therapy—”
“He is already seeing a therapist,” said Franziska.
“Hmm. Well, I’d recommend bringing up this potential diagnosis to your therapist in your next session.” Dr. Warner stepped over to Miles. “Generally, Hanahaki disease is pretty easy to label—when people start coughing up flower petals, they figure it out pretty fast.”
“He coughed up a whole flower,” said Franziska.
“Franzi, would you let me talk to the doctor?”
“No!” said Franziska. “You’re an idiot!”
Dr. Warner’s mouth twitched. “Miles, do you have anything to say on the matter?”
Miles hesitated. Then, carefully, he said, “From what I understand, Hanahaki disease is relatively manageable and livable so long as you’re comfortable with the possibility of your feelings not being reciprocated. The cases that quickly turn fatal are the people who are terrified into succumbing to their own turbulent emotions, yes?”
“You’re well-versed in the issue!” said Dr. Warner with some surprise. “It’s not an uncommon condition, but the particulars of it aren’t usually so well-known. Do you know someone who had it?”
Miles felt a soft blush rise to his cheeks. “A very dear friend and colleague of mine lived with the flowers for some time,” he said a little awkwardly. “He was extremely open about their existence and extremely unbothered by the concept of living with said flowers in perpetuity. Thankfully, the object of his affection—who works with him on the police force—has recently begun to make her own feelings on the matter very clear.” He could see Franziska’s eyes widening with a startled comprehension. “Though it certainly isn’t my place to speak about his experience,” he continued, “it did help inform and reassure me when I realized that I am dealing with a similar issue.”
“Well, I’m very glad to hear that,” said Dr. Warner with an encouraging grin. “Many people worsen their condition before even getting here thanks to all of those urban legends about dying with flowers in your lungs. Though I wasn’t kidding when I said it isn’t likely, that doesn’t mean that it isn’t possible.”
“I’m well aware,” Miles agreed.
“Is the concept of confessing your feelings out of the question?”
Miles’s easy smile flickered, and he felt the tickle in his throat that meant another sunflower was likely on its way up. Uncertainly, he said, “Though I feel confident that he would respond to my admission with both compassion and consideration, I truly don’t think that now would be the best time to burden him with these feelings. He is going through many difficult life changes of his own. If my feelings are not returned, I should not like to add to his burden by complicating our friendship—and if they are, I should not like to add to those life changes by way of beginning a long-distance romantic relationship.”
“Very considerate of you,” said Dr. Warner. “But here’s my counterpoint: if you don’t take any action to rectify this situation, you’ll have a permanent medical condition. You’re handling it very well, but that doesn’t mean that it’s not going to complicate your day-to-day life. If there’s a chance that he does return your feelings, you won’t have to deal with coughing up flowers or potential serious health risks way down the line. The flowers are nourished by emotional turmoil, so they’ll likely grow slowly in a well-adjusted adult—but that doesn’t mean that they’re not still growing.”
Franziska’s hand tightened on Miles’s sleeve. “Doctor,” she said thinly, “are you saying that my brother is going to die? Please be frank.”
Dr. Warner hesitated. With some deliberation, she said, “There haven’t been a lot of studies on this disease, specifically because it’s rare that those who have it feel comfortable getting it checked out by a medical professional. However, I wouldn’t be surprised if you start dealing with some significant health complications within the next ten years—and while the disease itself doesn’t usually directly cause death, those health complications can sometimes be fatal.”
Franziska inhaled through her teeth and let go of Miles’s sleeve, hugging her elbows. After a moment, she looked directly up at Miles and said, “Either you fix this or I will. I am not losing you, do you hear me?”
“Yes,” said Miles.
“Not to that fool of a defense attorney. Not to anyone. You are my little brother and I will protect you.”
“Yes,” said Miles again, a little unsteadily, and coughed up the miniature sunflower stuck in his throat. Looking down at it resting in the palm of his hand, petals damp and gracelessly unfurled, he again felt that strange, dizzying sense of happiness.
“Mr. EDGEWORTH!” yelled Kay, flinging herself at him as soon as she saw him. Miles staggered, gasped, and spat out another sunflower—which luckily flew over Kay’s shoulder and landed at Franziska’s feet. “Are you seriously gonna be this much of a dummy about the whole thing? Franziska texted me when you were in the doctor’s office and she said that you were being dumb and I should talk to you, and I’m gonna try and talk to you, but you’re really not good at listening to other people, so—”
Suddenly, Franziska’s guilty expression in the doctor’s office made quite a lot more sense. “Kay, it is lovely to see you, but do not tackle me,” said Miles with dignity, “I have a serious medical condition that should not be taken lightly.”
“Oh, so when I express displeasure, it is nothing, but when Kay Faraday attempts to hug you, it is a serious medical condition,” said Franziska dryly, nudging the sunflower delicately away from her with the toe of her boot.
Kay didn’t seem interested in listening to either of them—which, Miles supposed, wasn’t much of a change from normal. “Mr. Edgeworth, Hanahaki disease is no laughing matter,” she said a little more seriously. “You need to tell Mr. That Man how you feel.”
Under more normal circumstances, Miles might have expressed more vocal displeasure at the concept of Kay giving him romantic advice. However, Miles found himself significantly distracted by the genuine concern in Kay’s eyes—and though she was trying to hide it with her usual chipper smile, it was clear that she was just as worried as Franziska. Letting out a soft sigh, he said, “Kay, it isn’t the ideal time for him to know. He’s going through a lot at the moment, and—”
“Screw him!” said Kay impatiently. “If he’s really as great as you say he is, he’d never ever want you to die instead of actually admit that you’ve got feelings, no matter what he’s going through!”
“Kay Faraday!” said Franziska reprovingly. “This is a delicate situation!”
“Kay, I’m not going to die!” Miles objected at the same time. This was unfortunately interrupted by another coughing fit.
“From what I understand, Mr. Edgeworth,” said Kay, “the doctor told you that you’re only risking serious health complications if you’re super repressed and weird about feelings, right? You’re literally the highest-risk demographic for this thing!”
Franziska actually started laughing at that one. “The—oh, for heaven’s sake,” said a frustrated Miles. “I am not—listen, I’ve told you, this isn’t the right time. I have no qualms regarding my feelings for Wright, I would happily tell him if not for his current situation—”
“Then why haven’t you?”
That took Miles aback. “What?”
“You say that you would happily tell him if he was not disbarred and in disarray,” said Franziska, fixing Miles with the terrifying look she generally utilized to strike fear into the hearts of the guilty. “Then why haven’t you?”
“I-I—”
“Were you not in love with him at Hazakura Temple?” Franziska stepped forward towards him, eyes still narrowed accusingly. “Were you not in love with him during the Engarde trial? Were you not in love with him when he put our bastard of a papa in jail for what he did to your father? The man’s life will never not be complicated, Miles Edgeworth, and you know that. There will never be a perfect time to confess your love to him—and if you lose yourself in the pursuit of perfection, you are everything wrong with the name of von Karma.”
Miles blinked, taking another look at his sister. With a strange swell of warmth, he realized that Franziska von Karma had grown up. “I reluctantly concede your point,” he said tentatively. “There is no way for me to find a calm moment in the chaos that is Phoenix Wright’s life. The man is practically a trouble magn—hhk.” At the rush of affection that any thought of Wright brought, another sunflower had made itself known.
“Oh, gross,” said Kay appreciatively.
“Be glad they aren’t normally sized sunflowers,” said Franziska to Kay, wrinkling her nose. Turning back to Miles, she said a little more gently, “Miles Edgeworth. I cannot help but feel that you are using Phoenix Wright’s disbarment as an excuse to avoid admitting your true feelings to him.”
Miles, who had finally finished coughing, slumped exhaustedly against the wall. After a few moments of staring at the floor, he said, “He is the most precious and incredible person that I have ever met. He is the reason I am the man I am today. The concept of my feelings making him feel uncomfortable within our friendship, or—or repulsed by me—”
“Mein Gott,” muttered Franziska, pressing her fingertips to her temples as if trying to stave off a migraine. Looking Miles in the eye, she said, “If you think that Phoenix Wright even has it in him to be repulsed by you, you are the biggest fool I have ever met.”
“Franzi—”
“The man had every reason to think you a murderer and he still chose to believe that there is good in your heart!” snapped Franziska. “Even if he does not return your feelings—and I personally am quite solidly convinced that he does—there is no chance in heaven or hell that he will regard you with any less esteem!”
This was an uncomfortably good point. Miles was beginning to find himself entirely frustrated with how easily Franziska seemed able to knock down his arguments. Helplessly, he burst out, “Franzi, he cannot possibly want me!”
Franziska froze. Kay looked a mixture of startled and concerned. “…Mr. Edgeworth?”
“Not—” Miles shook his head, gripping his elbow. “Not the way I want him.”
Kay opened her mouth, but Franziska held up a hand, moving forward to gently grip Miles’s elbows. Her small hand resting over his steadied him, just a little. “And why not, little brother?” she asked almost softly. “Why would he not want you?”
“It isn’t—” Miles shook his head again, a flower-shaped lump in his throat. “He changed the entire trajectory of my life. He saved me. How on earth could his feelings match the depth and intensity of mine?”
“You participated in that ridiculous class trial which clearly means a lot to him even now,” Franziska pointed out, “and you saved Maya Fey from the clutches of a ruthless assassin who left even me with a scar. You took an international flight to him when he needed you more than anyone, and after that foolish mishap of a suicide attempt—” she tensed a little as she spoke of it, and Miles let go of his own elbow to reach for her instead, “—you have always gone out of your way to make sure that you are there whenever he needs you. You have done just as much for him as he has for you. He has every reason to feel exactly the same way.”
“And if he doesn’t?” Miles’s voice trembled. “Franzi, I-I don’t know if I have it in me to let go of these feelings, but I can’t abide by the concept of letting them kill me from the inside out.”
“The only way this disease will continue to be a problem is if Phoenix Wright does not return your feelings,” Franziska persisted.
“And if he doesn’t,” piped up Kay, “he’s the dummy here! Mr. Edgeworth, you’re a total catch! I mean, you’re not cool or funny or anything, but you still have other stuff going for you? Maybe?”
Miles had to bite back a laugh. “KAY FARADAY,” said Franziska through her teeth, “a little TACT is required here!”
“Funny that you’re the one educating another person on tact, Franziska,” said Miles with amusement.
“I AM AN EXPERT ON TACT AND DON’T YOU FORGET IT—”
“Ooooh, Mr. Edgeworth, you really stepped in it,” snickered Kay.
Opening his mouth to respond with some degree of sarcasm, Miles inadvertently coughed up another flower. He caught it just before it landed on Franziska’s blouse, snatching it away and tossing it to the ground. The sunflower landed faceup, and he wasn’t sure if he was imagining it, but it seemed to be blooming just a bit more brightly than before.
“You need to solve this, little brother,” said Franziska quietly.
“I know,” said Miles. “I do.”
He texted Phoenix that night: I have business in LA. I would love to see you while I am in the city. Both of those statements were true: he wanted very badly to see Phoenix, and he did indeed have pressing and important business in Los Angeles. Business with brown-blue eyes and a newly adopted daughter and a sweetly crooked smile that made sunflowers bubble up in Miles’s throat until it was hard to breathe.
What time does your flight get in, Miles? Phoenix texted back. We can pick you up if you want.
I always want that, Miles typed, and decided against it, deleting the message as a blush rose to his cheeks. Thank you for such a generous offer, he wrote instead. However, I am well aware of the fact that you do not own a car. How do you plan on picking me up without one?
A magician’s dad never reveals his secrets, Edgeworth. You should know that.
The laugh that this evoked was cut off, halfway, by another coughing fit. Three sunflowers hit the ground by Miles’s desk. With some worry, he realized that close proximity to Phoenix might have some unforeseen consequences when it came to his illness—but Franziska was right that this needed to be addressed, and this wasn’t the sort of news that he wanted to disclose over the phone.
I look forward to seeing you, Wright.
Trucy Wright flung herself at Miles’s knees as soon as she saw him, her impact very nearly forcing a sunflower out of his throat. “Mr. Edgeworth!” she yelled at the top of her lungs, then pulled back to examine him with a seriousness beyond her years. “Hmm,” she said. “Daddy says you’re the best prosecutor in the country, and that you work with the defense to make sure that bad people go to jail for real. Have you read up on State v. Gramarye? Do you think it was handled okay? I know my first daddy didn’t do it, but the court doesn’t. If you were prosecuting on that case, would—”
“—okay, honey bunny, why don’t we give Mr. Edgeworth some space to breathe,” said Wright with a gentle laugh, scooping Trucy up into his arms. She giggled, snuggling closer to press her face into the crook of his neck—and Wright stepped forward as well, balancing his daughter on his hip and embracing Miles at the same time. “It’s really good to see you, Miles. How was your flight?”
The sunflowers were already rising up in Miles’s chest. He could practically feel them. “I-it,” Miles managed, clearing his throat a little awkwardly and doing his best not to look like he was somewhat short of breath. “It was painfully long and ridiculously tedious. Standard international flight, really.” To Trucy, he added, “And it’s lovely to meet you, Miss Wright. I hope you’re doing well.”
Trucy’s returning smile was a little wobbly, but Miles could see that the happiness with her current situation was genuine. “I am!” she said. “It’s kinda hard sometimes, but Daddy says that we’re both going through a lot so it’s okay if I’m sad. But I’m not sad all the time, just sometimes. I’m definitely not sad right now!”
“But you’re allowed to be sad,” Wright reminded her. “Okay? It’s always okay if you miss your daddy—”
“I can’t miss my daddy, he’s right here!” said Trucy with a hugely self-satisfied grin, dissolving into giggles at Wright’s reluctant, laughing exhalation.
Miles remembered being that age—small and scared and under an unsympathetic von Karma’s thumb. He remembered von Karma’s impatience when he cried at the funeral—remembered him saying, sharply, are you not grateful for the home I provide you? Are you not happy to have a father who is actually a competent, capable man? And Wright had every logical reason to tell Trucy that her father was terrible—a self-absorbed imbecile who had turned his daughter into an accomplice before leaving her on the courthouse steps—but he instead gently encouraged her to feel however she wanted to feel, holding her close and treating her like she’d been his daughter for her entire life.
Phoenix Wright was a good father. The concept struck Miles, soft and warm—Phoenix Wright was a good father, and a good man, and a good person—
“Oh, Mr. Edgeworth!” said Trucy with alarm as Miles pulled back, coughing so hard that he could barely breathe. Sunflower after sunflower landed on the airport floor, attracting nervously sympathetic attention from passerby, and Miles was dizzy and breathless by the time the attack finally subsided.
Just as his knees gave way, he felt a pair of strong arms wind around his waist, pulling him briskly upright. “Miles,” said Wright, shocked and a little breathless himself, “why didn’t you tell me you had Hanahaki disease?”
“Sit,” said Wright, and took out a kettle from the cupboard, filling it with water before placing it on the stovetop. “Truce, why don’t you go work on some magic tricks in your room for a little while? We’re going to have an adult conversation.”
“But Daddy,” said Trucy, who had been vibrating with a strangely knowing anticipation ever since she’d seen the sunflowers, “don’t you have—”
“Trucy,” said Wright firmly.
With a frustrated sigh, Trucy obeyed, lingering in the doorway before finally conceding to her father’s wishes. After her footsteps disappeared down the hallway, Miles heard the resolute sound of a door shutting, followed closely by the beginnings of stage music turned up to a very high volume.
“So,” said Wright, who was getting out the tea fixings that he’d kept on hand ever since Miles had admitted that he hated coffee, “how long?”
“Only a few months,” Miles answered. “But if you don’t mind me asking a question of my own, how do you know about the nuances of this disease? When Franziska found out about my affliction, it took the opinion of a qualified doctor to officially convince her that I wasn’t going to drop dead.”
Wright stilled in front of the stovetop, his hand resting absently on the kettle’s handle. After a long moment, he said, “I…know someone…who’s been living with the disease since they were in grade school.”
Miles drew in a sharp breath through his teeth. “Grade school?”
“Yeah, they—they fell in love really young, and there was just never an opportunity to tell the guy. Uh.” Wright coughed, a sweetly wheezing cough that Miles had always noted as endearingly unique to only him. “The person. And because they were a really stubborn little kid, they didn’t tell their parents, ‘cause they were worried that their parents would make them get the surgery to get the feelings removed. But then the news did come out, and when their parents finally took them to the doctor, the doctor said that the disease almost definitely wouldn’t be fatal if it was contracted so young. It was kind of like a really bad case of asthma.”
“And they still have it now?” Miles couldn’t imagine living with this disease since childhood. He was almost glad that he hadn’t. If he’d fallen in love with Wright in grade school, von Karma would have forced him into surgery—and while the flowers weren’t exactly fun to deal with, he’d rather have them than lose the warmth that suffused him every time he looked at Wright. “Is it not a possibility for them to…track this person down? Confess their feelings?”
Wright laughed a little nervously. “I don’t know the guy very well, Miles, i-it was just an anecdote—” He coughed again, pressing his fingers firmly against his mouth. “Sorry. Bad cough.”
“Keep that up and I’ll think it’s you with Hanahaki,” said Miles with a light laugh. Wright’s hands slipped a little on the kettle, and Miles added hastily, “Careful, don’t want to burn yourself.”
“Shit, yeah, I—” Wright laughed again. “Yeah. Sorry. Tea should probably help with that cough, though. I think the hot water loosens the petals a little in your throat.”
“Makes sense,” Miles agreed, taking the mug that Wright handed him and taking a sip. Indeed, the blockage in his throat became a little less painful. “Thank you, Wright. This has been…trying…for me.”
“Do you want to talk about her?”
Miles almost choked on his tea. “I’m sorry?”
A deep flush rose in Wright’s cheeks. “Was that—I mean, I don’t want to be intrusive—”
“No, no, I—” Miles set the mug down, struggling to contain his laughter. “When on earth did I give you the impression that I was in any way attracted to women?”
Slowly, Wright took another look at Miles. His eyes were very wide. “Wait. What?”
“I’m gay,” Miles clarified. “I assumed you knew. It’s something of an open secret at the Prosecutors’ Office.” A more unpleasant possibility occurring to him, he added, “If this is some sort of problem for you—”
“No, not at all!” Wright’s blush was somehow even deeper. “No, I—I just was kind of surprised! I guess I never really—I mean, I figured it was just wishful thinking—I don’t know, it wasn’t something that was on my radar, and when I don’t know I just assume—”
“Wishful thinking?” Miles repeated, amused (and, though he refused to admit it, just a touch hopeful).
Wincing a little, Wright gave him a sheepish smile. “I’m bisexual,” he said. “I thought it would be nice if we had something like that in common.”
“O-oh,” said Miles, coloring. “Well—”
“Anyway, that wasn’t the point. Do you want to talk about him? It’s okay if you don’t, but I thought I should still ask.”
Another sunflower rose up in Miles’s throat. This. This was the moment of truth, the moment where he had to be more emotionally vulnerable than he’d ever been in his entire life—and Miles almost wanted to let the sunflowers choke him instead. “I-I—” he stammered, terrified.
And then Wright reached out, placing his hand over Miles’s on the table. “Hey,” he said gently. “It’s okay. I know this must be really hard for you, but this guy is really lucky to have you care about him so much—and if I can help you figure out a way to break the news to him, I absolutely will. Better to figure out what he’s feeling than keep your lips zipped, right? At least this way you’ll know.”
He was so good. Too good for an admission like this. Miles could feel tears stinging his eyes. “That’s just it,” he said helplessly. “He has no idea. None whatsoever. He changed my life and I’m too weak and frightened to admit to him that I’ve been in love with him for the last three years at least. Being in love with him is—is wonderful, and painful, and I’ve never experienced anything like it before, and I find myself terrified that I will have to discard these feelings when he inevitably does not return them.”
“Anyone who’s not in love with you is a goddamn moron,” said Wright without hesitation, his eyes locked on Miles’s. “Don’t shorten the rest of your life by tying yourself up into knots. If this guy is worth the kind of love you have for him, even if he doesn’t return your feelings, the first thing he’s going to tell you is that his life has been improved by you being brave enough to be honest with him. Just—tell him how you feel.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too, Miles,” said Wright earnestly. “Now, who’s this guy?”
Miles stared disbelievingly at Wright. “Are you—” Somehow, the flowers became more overpowering with the return of the familiar Wright-inspired urge to slam his head against a desk. “What is wrong with you?”
“What?” said Wright, frowning guilelessly.
“I love you, you imbecile,” said Miles, too annoyed to remember how to be self-conscious. “It’s you! I’m telling you how I feel!”
“Yeah, but shouldn’t you tell him?”
“I am telling him,” said Miles, and reached across the table to grip Phoenix Wright’s hands in his.
For a long moment, Phoenix just looked a mixture of confused and encouraging—and then the penny dropped. His eyes went huge, his gaze darting down to their joined hands and back up to Miles’s face. “You—”
“I love you,” said Miles. “I love you. It’s you who changed my life, you who made me better, you who saw the good in me long after I thought myself to be nothing but evil and wrong—I don’t have it in me not to love you. And I know it’s unlikely that you can return my feelings with the same intensity, I’m not asking for that and I never would, but I need you to know that I love you. I can’t hide the fact that I love you.”
Phoenix had gone very pale.
“Phoenix?”
Phoenix stood up and retched, pressing his hands to his mouth. “Hey, Miles?” he said weakly. “I love you too.”
“Phoenix?”
Phoenix convulsed. A bloody mess of white chrysanthemums splattered the floor, flecks of blood and blue-white petals hitting Miles’s jacket and jabot. Just as he was straightening up to say something, he doubled over again, even more chrysanthemums leaving his mouth. “Oh, this is great,” he rasped, “this is really—”
And suddenly, Phoenix’s story made a hell of a lot more sense. “Oh,” said Miles, realizing with a jolt what was happening, what had happened, and that Phoenix Wright had been in love with him since they were nine years old. At that realization, his own chest seized, and suddenly there was a bloody mess of sunflowers and roots on Phoenix’s very nice dining room table. Wiping his mouth, Miles winced, grateful that his own disease hadn’t had quite as much time to take root—because now that he was free of his flowers, he was able to cross the room and take Phoenix in his arms. “It’s all right, Phoenix. It’s all right, just—get it out, that’s it—”
It took fifteen minutes for Phoenix to stop coughing up chrysanthemums. Miles didn’t bother to move them towards the sink; he was too worried about Phoenix to move them at all, and wanted to make sure that the flowers were entirely gone from Phoenix’s lungs before he began to focus on cleaning the house up. He felt somewhat grateful that Trucy had her music on too loudly to hear them, and was giving them their privacy on top of that; the amount of therapy an eight-year-old might have to go through upon seeing this macabre scene would certainly not be in Phoenix’s budget.
The chrysanthemums were followed closely by a terrifyingly intricate network of roots. Since grade school, Miles thought with a jolt, steadying a semi-conscious Phoenix in his arms and awkwardly carrying him over to the couch. “Phoenix?” he said softly, setting Phoenix down among the pillows and cushions. “I’m going to clean up the house, and then I think we’re going to go to the hospital. Does that sound all right?”
Phoenix didn’t seem able to say anything, but his eyes shone with an exhausted happiness as he looked up at Miles. Without a word, he took Miles’s hand, raising it clumsily to his lips—and then coughed up another flower.
“Good God,” said Miles.
Trucy was surprisingly unbothered by the whole situation. “Oh, I knew this would happen eventually,” she informed Miles. “As soon as I saw you, I knew. You and Daddy look at each other exactly the same way, and you had the same little gulp as him where you’re both obviously trying to swallow down flowers.”
“You have blood on your mouth, dingbat,” said Maya Fey, scooting forward to wipe the offending fleck off of Miles’s face with a wet paper towel. “How are you feeling?”
“Not delightful,” said Miles thinly. The doctors had done a brief check-up and informed Miles that, due to the fact that his sunflowers had not had enough time to take serious root, the most Miles would have to deal with was some lingering soreness in his chest that could be alleviated with pain medication. Phoenix, however, had had chrysanthemums rooted in his chest since he was nine—and he’d still been coughing up bloody petals when the doctors took him away.
“He’s going to be fine,” Maya assured him. “You worry too much.”
“I don’t think you’re worried enough.”
“Someone’s gotta be the adult here.” Maya handed Miles the thermos of tea she’d brought with her. “Drink up, okay? That should help with the pain. Sis was drinking tea for a week after her roots came out.”
“Mia…had Hanahaki?”
Maya grinned a little. “Her and her college girlfriend were super dumb,” she said. “Not as dumb as you and Nick, though.”
“I can’t help but feel as though some of this is my fault,” said Miles heavily. “If I had told him—years ago—”
“Well, yeah, but you were only ready to tell him now!” Maya countered a little more gently, patting Miles on the shoulder as he took a tentative sip of tea. “If you’d told him when you were still in your weird fleeing-the-country stage, he’d have to deal with all the weird health complications and the fact that you weren’t here to help him.”
“But if he ends up—” Miles bit back the word dying. Trucy looked calm and collected now, but that was because she hadn’t seen the blood-splattered flowers.
Firmly, Maya said, “Nothing bad is gonna happen to Nick. They’ve got him under observation and they’ll let us know when he’s ready to see visitors, okay?”
“Daddy’s a tough cookie!” Trucy piped up. “Don’t worry about it, Papa.”
“I—Papa?”
“You’re Daddy’s special someone!” Trucy explained. “Pearl told me all about it. She says that Auntie Maya is Daddy’s special someone, but I knew she was wrong. I didn’t tell her, though, because Daddy says he doesn’t want to have that talk with Pearl until I’m really gonna have a new Mommy. Except you’re not a Mommy, you’re a Papa, which is just as nice—”
Miles felt thoroughly bowled over. “Trucy,” he said, “you don’t have to—”
“Oh, I know I don’t have to, Papa,” said Trucy earnestly, “but I love Daddy, and Daddy loves you so much! Daddy doesn’t just love people without a reason.” Without waiting for a response, she clambered into his lap, settling herself comfortably against his chest. “And you love Daddy, too, which means that you’re going to want to be a family with him, right?”
“Pump the brakes, Truce,” said Maya, not unkindly. “Miles is processing a lot right now.” Just as Miles was about to thank her, she added, “Obviously he wants to be your papa, but he didn’t even know that your daddy loved him too until like an hour ago. How about we slow the wedding procession until your daddy’s able to see us again?”
Trucy considered this. “It is a big life change,” she agreed.
With much less reluctance than he was willing to consciously admit, Miles pulled Trucy a little closer. “You are a remarkable young lady,” he informed her, and a strange feeling settled in his chest. It was one thing to watch Phoenix live out the opportunity to be better than Manfred von Karma—but quite another to be given that opportunity himself. A little girl who had lost her family wanted him to be a part of her new one—how on earth could that grotesque vampire of a man have looked at a grieving child and been anything but honored by such gentle, hopeful trust?
“A remarkable young lady,” Trucy repeated, and giggled. “I am, aren’t I?”
“More than you know,” said Miles, smiling softly.
They were interrupted by a little knock on the doorframe near them. “Miles Edgeworth?” inquired the nurse. “He’s asking for you.”
Phoenix looked a little paler than usual, and he was hooked up to quite a few different machines, but the light in his eyes was so breathlessly familiar that just seeing him made the tension dissipate from Miles’s shoulders. Wordlessly, he held out his arms for Trucy, and Miles set the littlest Wright down in her father’s embrace. “Hi, Daddy!” sang out Trucy, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Are you feeling a little better?”
Phoenix coughed, then said, “Can’t talk a lot right now.”
“Tea!” said Maya immediately, bringing out the thermos and handing it off to Phoenix. “Don’t know how much help it’ll be when like twenty years of flowers are kicking your respiratory system in the nuts, but—”
“Maya,” said Phoenix wryly. His eyes had gone to Miles.
Miles considered his next move for a long moment. Then, crossing the room, he leaned down to Phoenix’s bed, pressing a quick, gentle kiss to the lips of the man he loved. Phoenix looked somewhat starry-eyed when he pulled away. “You should have told me,” said Miles softly. “Perhaps not after that ridiculous debacle of mine—”
“—don’t call it that, you were in pain—”
“—but you should have told me at some point.”
“And do what?” Phoenix took a long sip of tea, swallowing before continuing. “These have been in me since I was nine, Miles. No way was I bringing them up. Even the Demon Prosecutor would have pitied me, and I—”
“It’s not pity.” At Phoenix’s dubious expression, Miles pressed, “It’s not. It’s—I hate the thought of you being in so much pain for so long on my account. I hate that you were forced into a physical reminder of missing me, and I hate that there really wasn’t much that I could have done up until very recently. But I don’t pity you, Phoenix, and I never will.” To punctuate his statement, he kissed Phoenix again, taking a few seconds to enjoy Phoenix’s starstruck expression before continuing, “It is a stunningly brave thing, to love another person so powerfully. Braver still given the kind of experiences you’ve had with love like that. I will never not admire your capacity to care about the people in your life—and I am, as always, stunned by the fact that so much of that care and compassion is directed at me.”
“Hmm.” Phoenix’s eyes were sliding shut, a blissful smile on his face. “C’mere.”
“I-I—”
Unceremoniously, Maya elbowed Miles in the back, causing him to stumble just enough that Phoenix was able to pull him down onto the bed. It happened almost too quickly for Miles to understand what had happened—only that one moment he was standing, and the next, he was settled comfortably in Phoenix’s arms, his cheek against the soft fabric of Phoenix’s sweater. Instinctively, Miles found himself moving closer, a new and more powerful ache in his chest as he tucked his face into the crook of Phoenix’s neck. He felt Phoenix’s shaky inhale in response.
“Oh, I am so sending a picture of this to Franziska,” said Maya happily. “And Pearly! Now I finally have a reason to start that talk with her about how Mystic Maya’s a total lesbian, this is great—”
Trucy squeezed her way in between them, a genuinely childlike joy on her face. Though intelligence still sharpened her eyes and smile, it was hard not to see how young she was in this moment. “I have two daddies!” she said. “One daddy, one papa! Are you going to fly here to live with us, Papa? Do you know how to cook? Daddy can’t cook at all. Can you make me pancakes? None of my daddies could make pancakes, but my mommy could! If I have a daddy and a papa does that mean that my papa is like my mommy? Will—”
“Ease up on the questions, honey bunny. Daddy’s voice is shot.” Phoenix dropped a kiss to a giggling Trucy’s forehead, then looked nervously up at Miles. “I don’t know if it would have been different if—” He inhaled, shaking his head a little, then tried again. “This is a really big commitment, Miles. Being a full-time parent is a lot, and being involved with me might be even harder than that. I understand if—”
Miles kissed him. It was a fairly graceless kiss given that both of them were sore and aching, but it did seem to get the point across fairly effectively.
“Hell yeah,” said Maya from the other side of the room. “Lots of stuff to send to Franziska.”
“Does it feel better?”
Phoenix considered the question, looking down at Miles’s hand on his chest. He breathed in, then out, focusing on the way the air flowed easily through his lungs. “It’s like I stopped hurting in ways I didn’t even know I was hurting,” he said truthfully. “It’s been so painful for so long, and now that pain just…isn’t there. It’s weird, but it’s really wonderful. You know?”
“To some degree, yes.” Miles’s lips brushed lightly against his shoulder as he settled his cheek there. “I suppose I wasn’t carrying an entire flower garden’s worth of chrysanthemums in my lungs, but…I suffered greatly before we met again. You took away that guilty weight when you proved my innocence in a court of law, and I remember feeling so much freer than I ever believed possible.”
“I love you,” said Phoenix, still unused to saying it aloud. The flowers didn’t rise up to stifle him anymore when he noticed things like how soft Miles’s gray hair looked, or how elegant and delicate his hands were, or how fragile he seemed when he thought no one was paying attention. To the rest of the world, Phoenix knew that Miles Edgeworth exuded strength and power—but the memory of the boy who sobbed over crumpled-up paper cranes was the one Phoenix held close to his heart. “I’d protect you with my life.”
“Clearly, you attempted to.” Miles’s hands ran gently up his chest. “If your life is in danger, Phoenix, do not keep it a secret from me.”
“Honestly, I just—I just kinda came to terms with the fact that I’d be in love with you for the rest of my life,” said Phoenix quietly. “It wasn’t even something that I considered you might worry yourself over.”
“I love you. Of course I worry about you.” Miles pressed a kiss to the spot right under his ear. “You are infinitely precious to me, and I would be wrecked if I lost you. Please, please believe me when I say that—”
“I’m pretty sure those three hours in the hospital prove really well that I believe you when you say that.”
Miles chuckled—a sweet, melodious sound—and settled himself closer into Phoenix’s arms. “I will think about moving back,” he said.
Phoenix’s heart jumped a little. “Don’t you have work to do in Germany? There’s so much legal reform that we have to work on, and with Gavin on our tail—”
“I love you,” said Miles, as though he wasn’t quite hearing what Phoenix was saying. He was looking up at Phoenix, instead, and the grey in his eyes looked less like storm clouds and more like a slowly calming ocean. Fog on a chilly, beautiful San Francisco morning. “You are so beautiful, and so wonderful, and I cannot bring myself to care about anything other than staying as close to you as possible.”
“When did I become the rational one here,” said Phoenix, which led directly into a series of tender, laughing kisses and Miles’s hands moving up to cup Phoenix’s face. When they pulled back again, Phoenix said tentatively, “I love you too, but—I mean, you can’t just abandon your work overseas, no matter how much it would be nice for you to do so.”
“Then come to Germany.”
“I’m—what?”
“Come to Germany,” Miles repeated. “There’s no reason for you not to. I’m not practicing law in the States anymore, you’re not practicing law at all until we sort this mess out—do your work on trial reform by my side. Sleep in my bed. We’ll buy a house together and homeschool Trucy. Come to Germany.”
Phoenix stared, his heart pounding. “You’re—I—” It took him a moment to collect his thoughts. “Don’t you have that huge list of reasons why this is a logically shitty idea? We’ve been in a relationship for less than twenty-four hours. I have a kid and being her second parent isn’t something you can just jump into for the sake of your relationship with me. We don’t even know if this thing is going to work out long-term—”
“It seems like you have those reasons,” Miles pointed out. His expression was unwavering. “I will counter them in stride: we have known each other for nearly two decades, and even accounting for that gap in the middle, we have been in love with each other as adults for nearly three years. Longer, from your perspective.”
“Yeah, but Trucy—”
“Is a stunningly wonderful child. I will admit that I never considered the possibility of fatherhood before now, but she is yours, and so am I, and therefore we have that in common. I will not take my role as parent lightly, and I will not treat it as conditional to our relationship’s success. If our relationship ends, we can work out some sort of a joint custody arrangement.”
Phoenix’s heart was pounding, the ache in his chest intensifying into something entirely unfamiliar and utterly wonderful. “Miles—”
“And this leads me directly into my third point,” said Miles, and kissed him, soft and firm. “You bring sunlight and flowers into my life without even trying, Phoenix. You lit up my world and illuminated everything in it. You are the one who taught me that running on instinct can sometimes lead a man directly to the truth—and all of my instincts say that being with you is something that I will never want to give up on.”
“Miles,” said Phoenix a little tearfully.
“Have I made my point clear?” Miles kissed him again, a little more slowly this time. “Do you believe me when I say I will never leave you again?”
Years and years of those flowers in his lungs. Years and years of telling himself that the Demon Prosecutor would never love a nobody defense attorney even half as much as Phoenix Wright loved Miles Edgeworth. Years and years—and they’d led him here, with Miles’s soft grey eyes locked determinedly on his, nothing but tender optimism in the way he kissed. “I do,” said Phoenix, “I do I do I do,” and he caught Miles’s face in his hands and kissed him back. Kissed him breathless, kissed them both breathless, until his lungs burned the way they had with the flowers creeping in—this time, a reminder of love most definitely requited.
Germany was lovely in the summer.
“I would have whipped you senseless had my brother’s foolish love for you killed him,” Franziska informed Phoenix, shoving a bouquet of sunflowers and chrysanthemums into his arms. As Phoenix looked down at the shockingly thoughtful gift with a somewhat frightened expression, Franziska moved past him, scooping up her new niece and solemnly accepting Trucy’s amicable kiss on the cheek. “Hallo, Häschen. It is very good to finally meet you.”
“Hallo, Tante Franzi!” chirped Trucy, who had practiced her German on the plane for almost the entire flight. “Schön, Sie kennenzulernen!”
Franziska blinked, then smiled—a big, delighted smile that looked thoroughly strange on her generally severe face.
Phoenix and Miles exchanged an awed look. “Your daughter really is magic,” Miles whispered.
“Our daughter,” said Phoenix, and slipped his arm around Miles’s waist, reaching up with his free hand to tuck a white chrysanthemum behind Miles’s ear.