Archive of Our Own ^beta

‘It’s something to do with Edgeworth, isn’t it.’

Even the name’s enough to sting like a punch to the gut. But then again, Maya’s always been this blunt, always been able to see more than she really lets on, always been the type to just straight-up say it like it is and hit the truth right where it hurts.

‘… Nick? What happened.’

‘Nothing happened,’ Phoenix says in a rigid tone, slowly sinking onto his knees. ‘I need to focus on this case.’

Maya’s mouth skews into a frown, chillingly warped and misshapen in the dim, flickering candlelight of the channeling chamber.

‘You can’t seriously expect me to believe that nothing happened if you’re being this moody.’

‘That’s exactly it, though. Nothing was what happened.’ It’s a good thing, maybe, that the line of his shoulders are tensed so stiffly that she probably can’t see the quiver in his wrists and fingers as he settles on the floor. ‘Let’s just do this, Maya. Please. I really can’t afford to get carried away thinking about Edgeworth right now.’

That reply earns him a suspicious, squinting look from Maya, but thankfully, she lets it go.

Her new student’s gentle and polite, a mousy-looking teenage girl whose developing abilities Maya had eagerly hyped up with as much enthusiasm as she would with her favorite Steel Samurai episodes – clearly a budding force to be reckoned with, bright and promising and seemingly only a few channeling sessions short of being a fully fledged spirit medium. Hey, she can help you out with your case and get some solid experience at the same time, Maya had told him, and he’d seen no reason not to take her up on that offer. Now that the girl’s kneeling in front of him, though, Phoenix can’t help but awkwardly rub the back of his head; all in all, he can admit that it’s pretty embarrassing for him to only have a semi-blurry photograph of the murder victim to give her.

‘Sorry about this. It’s the only one that we could find,’ he mumbles with genuine regret. ‘There weren’t any other photos of him alive that we know of. He seemed to have been a loner who didn’t really have a lot of friends.’

‘It should be okay,’ the girl answers reassuringly, looking across at Maya for confirmation. ‘I think we might still be able to work with this, right?’

Maya nods, and finally sweeps the double doors to the chamber shut.

Everything considered, Phoenix isn’t too sure he understands what happens after that.

Because one minute, he’s pooling all his focus onto the girl’s soft chants and desperately batting away every unrelated, distracting, biting thought of Edgeworth from his mind; the next thing he knows, Maya’s shrieking out of nowhere – a shrill scream that rips through his skin, loud and knife-sharp and awful, yanking him right back into the moment and soundly slamming him into the realization of something being terribly, horribly wrong.

Which is practically a no-brainer once he lifts his head and gets a good look at the girl in front of him.

Because the half-blurred face that greets him alone is enough to make his blood run cold. Enough to get his surroundings spinning, faint and dizzy.

‘… Get back, Nick,’ Maya says slowly, sounding beyond terrified, which means that whatever’s going on right now can’t be anything remotely good. ‘I’ve gotta start the spirit severing technique—’

And out of the blue, something answers her. A silk-smooth whisper rattling in the murky corners of Phoenix’s mind, dangerous and piercing, taking him by complete surprise.

Oh, please. I’m no spirit.

He’s suddenly aware, only moments later, that Maya’s student – or whatever it is she’s channeling – has started talking soundlessly to him, and that his own mouth’s moving in bleary, absentminded reply, but his head’s heavy as lead and his drooping eyelids are already sinking closed, and he barely even registers what their conversation’s about before he slips into the dark.

He stirs awake to the rising beat of his own pulse, and a disorienting jumble of cotton wool in his brain.

In all honesty, the Wright Anything Agency couch is more than a familiar imprint against his back nowadays, ever since he’d spent seemingly endless nights curled up in its belly during his seven-year detour from the legal world. But something about the office in general feels out of place right now, prickling at Phoenix’s nerve endings and itching underneath Phoenix’s skin like something tilting askew in his sixth sense, like some vaguely inconsistent piece of evidence in court. And that isn’t even skimming the surface of how he even got here in the first place.

Because as far as he can remember, he was in Kurain Village with Maya, attempting to call the spirit of a dead man in the channeling chamber. A long way from here.

He slowly heaves himself up onto his feet; rubs the rough sleep-grit out of his eyes; tries to focus his gaze on the ticking clock hanging on the wall. Seven twenty-three. Judging by the soft, translucent daylight spilling in through the windows, it’s most likely morning instead of evening. Although he doesn’t get any more time to dwell on that, either way – soon enough, his thoughts are interrupted by the sound of the front door abruptly opening and two sets of all-too-recognizable footsteps casually ambling in.

‘—But I think it’s really sweet that Prosecutor Gavin wanted to check up on you after the funeral, you know.’

‘For heaven’s sake, Athena.’ An exasperated grumble, blunt and despairing. ‘I seriously hope you’re not trying to imply that there was anything more to what he was doing than just being friendly. You already know that he … oh! Mr. Wright!’

And then, Phoenix is greeted by both Apollo and Athena looking at him slack-jawed, standing side-by-side right across the room. A sight that, following Apollo’s relocation, he hadn’t actually expected to see again for a while – for months or years, at least.

Technically speaking, Phoenix knows in the back of his mind that he should at least try to be professional about this. Then again, he also knows that he’s never particularly fit into the textbook definition of what a regular, average boss is supposed to be. He can almost hear Edgeworth now, dishing out some characteristically pointed but honey-warm remark about how typical it is for him to be led around by his tender bleeding heart instead of any kind of sensible logic.

But Phoenix shakes his head, shakes that aching thought loose from the tightened line of his shoulders. Now isn’t really the time to think about Edgeworth. Not when, for whatever reason, Apollo’s come home.

Screw professionalism; they’ve done it before, just as they were parting ways in Khura’in. So with only a few long strides, Phoenix crosses the distance between them, and pulls his former subordinate into a fleeting one-armed hug.

To no one’s surprise, Apollo lets out an undignified yelp, caught off-guard. The expression etched into his face when Phoenix lets go shortly afterward is intriguing: a mixed cocktail of bafflement, flustered shyness, and barely the faintest hint of starry-eyed awe that has Phoenix wondering whether the admiring hero worship that Apollo had used to harbor for him years ago had ever fully faded away.

‘You’re back,’ Phoenix says, the edges of his mouth pulling into a sunny grin. ‘I had no idea you were coming back. When did your flight get in?’

Apollo blinks with even more puzzlement at that. ‘From where?’

‘What do you mean, from where?’ As if you weren’t stepping up to help piece Khura’in’s tattered legal system back together when Athena and I last saw you, Phoenix thinks with an appreciative eyeroll. ‘C’mon now, Apollo.’

‘I, uh—’

The two sets of stares being thrown his way are equally bewildered, and out of nowhere, that niggling feeling’s suddenly creeping at the corners of his conscious awareness all over again, churning in the pit of his stomach, clambering up his spine. The same feeling from earlier that’d left him suspecting that something isn’t the way it should be, even if he can’t put his finger on exactly what it is.

‘—I’m … not too sure what you’re talking about, Mr. Wright.’

‘He’s probably really tired. Aren’t you, Boss?’ Athena pipes up, her crooked smile bright and encouraging. ‘It’s been a rough case for all of us. That’s why you’re here super-early too, right? To wrap up the last bit of paperwork and start filing everything away?’

For a brief moment, Phoenix has no idea what to even say to that.

Eventually, he huffs out a single clumsy laugh, and rubs the back of his own head with unease. ‘Yeah, you’re right. It’s been a hell of a long week, huh? Guess I better start on that backlog, then.’

Without waiting for an answer, he turns on his heel, and immediately moves off.

Something’s odd. Odd in the same kind of way as having everything around him in the room unknowingly shifted an inch to the left: normal at first glance, but off-kilter enough to blare right down in his gut like an alarm bell, unmistakable and jarring. He shuffles over to his desk, throwing a fleeting glance at the disarray of case files and documents scattered across the tabletop – for whatever reason, most of the clutter’s made up of paperwork connected to State vs. Starbuck and State vs. Cykes. Both of which he’s sure he’d long packed away and hadn’t extracted from Mia’s old file cabinets again since.

‘Athena,’ he calls out, brow furrowing. ‘Do you happen to know where I put the Ian Fayes files? You know, that alleyway stabbing that I was telling you a little bit about before. The new case that I had to go to Kurain Village and get the spirit channeling done for.’

Athena makes her way over to his desk too, looking straight-up mystified. ‘The what now? When did you even have time to take on another case, with everything that’s been going on?’

‘What’s everything? And didn’t I talk to you about this case just yesterday?’

‘Uh, no? I literally have no idea what you’re—’

‘—Wait, you talked to Athena about a case and left me out?’ Apollo cuts in, his bottom lip jutting out with displeasure. ‘We did agree that my leave of absence is over and done with, right?’

Before Phoenix can even open his mouth to bring up Apollo’s semi-permanent move to Khura’in and ask about the leave of absence thing, though, he’s interrupted by a series of light knocks rapping at the front door.

‘… I’ll get it, Boss,’ Athena declares, skipping off as vibrantly as ever.

Phoenix squeezes his eyes shut, pinches the bridge of his nose with his fingertips. The whole thing almost feels like forcibly jamming two mismatched puzzle pieces together; as far as he can tell, not a single part of it makes sense, and honestly, the last thing he’s up for at this point is having to take on a new client – especially when he’s hardly made any significant progress with his current case and everything in his head’s muddled beyond description.

Although as it turns out, it isn’t a client who’s just walked through the door.

‘Rough morning, Wright?’

A curious comment, smooth as red wine with a hint of spice to match.

Phoenix freezes. Opens his eyes. Turns to look, and swallows past the misshapen lump in his throat.

It’s too soon for Edgeworth to be so calm and collected about coming by to see him, especially after what’d happened between them several days ago. But here he is, charmingly ruffly and unruffled all at once, standing in front of Phoenix with delicate fingers poised on a slightly cocked hip like nothing’s bothering him at all. Which Phoenix should’ve expected, really – years of facing each other in the courtroom have proven that even his own overwhelming number of wins can’t stop him from sweating bullets and tying himself up in knots whenever he’s backed into a corner, while Edgeworth’s never been anything but graceful and level-headed, even in loss.

Admittedly, in this particular situation, that kind of tugs at a sore spot inside Phoenix’s chest just a tiny bit. That, and the fact that it seems like both of them have now gone back to using each other’s last names as a safety measure after having comfortably started to be on a first-name basis for only a few short days.

He must’ve stayed quiet for a while thinking about this, because Edgeworth’s face suddenly shifts into a frown of mild concern. ‘Is everything alright?’

‘Yeah,’ Phoenix says, maybe a little too quickly. He has no idea why Edgeworth’s even here today, but it’s likely something to do with work, so he circles his desk and calmly takes a seat behind it. ‘Well, make yourself comfortable.’

Edgeworth’s eyes crease at the corners, subtle but warm as candlelight. ‘Much obliged.’

For whatever reason, though, he doesn’t sit opposite Phoenix. Instead, he rounds the desk too until he’s standing right beside Phoenix’s chair, before setting the steaming takeout coffee cup that’s cradled in his fingers down onto the tabletop and sliding it toward Phoenix in offering.

‘I thought you could use it,’ he explains coolly, almost like it’s a casual conversation about the weather. ‘Ah, I see you’ve printed out the supplementary documents that I sent over. Excellent. Now that the trial’s done and dusted, I can quickly take you through these before you file them away.’

Phoenix stares at the coffee cup. At Edgeworth’s thumb flicking through a sheaf of papers that, from a quick glance, seem to involve Bobby Fulbright in some capacity. At Edgeworth’s strangely relaxed posture and easy, unguarded expression.

He knows, more than anything, that he needs to be delicate about this. But without warning, his mouth opens all on its own and he blurts out, ‘Are we – just gonna pretend that the thing the other day didn’t happen?’

Athena and Apollo both look up from their respective desks at that.

All three pairs of gazes being leveled in Phoenix’s direction look baffled, and Phoenix flinches before he can help it. It’s funny, really, that even when Edgeworth shouldn’t be remotely confused over the recent incident between them, Phoenix can’t find it in himself to actually be mad. Not when Edgeworth’s had a long history of finding some difficulty in expressing his own intentions well. Not when it’s Phoenix’s own fault for having jumped the gun and made assumptions about their longstanding, ever-growing friendship that he probably shouldn’t have.

If anything, he just feels disjointed and lost.

After a while, Edgeworth lets out a relenting sigh. ‘Don’t tell me that you’re still huffy over my throwaway jab regarding your first case back. Come now, you know full well that I made the comment in jest. Orca or not, you did come through with a splendid defense as always, and I do mean that.’

Truth be told, Phoenix can’t even remember when Edgeworth had supposedly made whatever orca-related comment he’s just mentioned. ‘That’s not what I meant.’

‘Then … I’m afraid I’m not really sure what you’re referring to?’

Phoenix squirms uncomfortably in his seat. Winces at the sensation of the small, hard stone shifting in his pocket and digging into his thigh.

No psyche-locks.

Not that he needs the Magatama in the first place. His countless nights of undefeated poker games aren’t thanks only to Trucy alone, after all; generally speaking, he’d grown much better at reading people, at not just taking anything and everything in front of him at face value, during those years of hardship and those hollow evenings spent in dim lamplight. And he can tell, without any doubt, that Edgeworth’s being sincere in his confusion – a state of confusion that technically doesn’t make the slightest bit of sense.

‘Never mind,’ he murmurs despite that, shaking his head. ‘So uh, how come you’re here, anyway? Wouldn’t you have, like, more high-profile Chief Prosecutor things to do than to spend your time explaining documents to me?’

‘More high-profile than a case involving espionage of this level?’ Edgeworth raises an eyebrow, pointedly gesturing at the stack of loose pages in his hand. ‘You yourself said that the Phantom was no small fry, didn’t you? Besides, what kind of steaming hot mess do you take me for? Please. I’m perfectly capable of pacing and organizing myself well enough to be ahead in my current work. I can spend as many hours here with you as is needed.’

With you rings louder in Phoenix’s ears, burns hotter in Phoenix’s veins, than anything else Edgeworth’s just said. To the point where he almost forgets to be stumped over why they’re even talking about a year-old case to begin with.

There must be something vulnerable or helpless leaking through in his expression in light of that, because all of a sudden, Edgeworth’s air and demeanor winds down, mild and mellow.

‘Listen. I understand that it doesn’t always seem like it, seeing as I admittedly do have a habit of giving you a tough time in order to help keep you sharp and on your toes,’ he says in a steady voice, bending himself over to look Phoenix more closely in the eye. ‘But if it’s within my power, then rest assured that I’ll make time for you whenever you need me. As best as I can manage. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be, Wright. I hope you know that.’

Phoenix does. Just as he’s well aware that just because Edgeworth had had a direct and active involvement in his feelings being hurt a few days ago, doesn’t mean that the world now revolves around him and his own personal crisis, or that Edgeworth’s to blame for it at all.

‘—Yeah. Of course,’ Phoenix answers, throat tight. ‘Same goes for you.’

Edgeworth tilts sideways just slightly to give Phoenix’s arm a purposeful nudge with his elbow, the touch feather-light but so full of sensitive heat and a strong undercurrent of some unspoken thing that it sears in Phoenix’s chest with a pang.

‘… Alright, then. It’s clear that this case has taken its toll on you and your subordinates, but this is more or less the final stretch – it’s a relief that the trial’s over, isn’t it? After the last bit of documentation’s done, you can put it all behind you for good.’ Edgeworth squares his shoulders, straightens his spine. Back to business mode, apparently. ‘Come on. You’ve got me all to yourself to help you wrap things up today, so let’s start. Can’t exactly stand idle here all day like another one of your pot plants, can I?’

Didn’t we already wrap this up a year ago, though? Phoenix wants to ask, but doesn’t. It’s kind of pleasant, actually, for spending time with Edgeworth to feel somewhat close to the realm of being simple and straightforward again.

The corners of his lips bend into a quivering half-smile, and together, they get to work.

He stirs awake to the rising beat of his own pulse, and an abysmally terrible crick in his neck.

His mouth pulls outward into a ballooning yawn; he squints in the low light, hazily blinking away the last vestiges of drowsiness cocooning him all over. As far as he can tell, he must’ve fallen asleep on the office couch again – sitting up this time, instead of lying down and curling into himself – and even when all his muscles are locked stiff and screaming for relief, it’s oddly comfortable and cozy.

Then again, the warm weight pressed into his side may have something to do with that.

Smooth grey strands enter his frame of vision when he turns his head; his gut clenches at the sight. Even now, after the unfortunate thing that’d happened between the two of them a few days ago, Phoenix can’t help marveling at how seamlessly they slot and fit together. Even now, when being this close to Edgeworth’s enough to constrict his heart tissue until it’s sore, Phoenix thinks he’d be fine with them staying huddled up to each other. Even now, Phoenix doesn’t know what to do.

He wants to graze his thumb over the corner of Edgeworth’s jaw, to thread his fingers through the wisps of Edgeworth’s hair, but god, he can’t. He shouldn’t.

So he settles for grasping Edgeworth’s upper arm instead, gently shaking him awake.

‘Hey.’ The mumble comes out hot against the crown of Edgeworth’s head. ‘Hey, Edgeworth …?’

‘Ngh,’ Edgeworth grunts, and it’s so inelegant and sloppy and human that Phoenix feels something in the space behind his ribs swell to twice its size. Edgeworth then moves to pull his face away from where it’d been clumsily squashed against Phoenix’s shoulder; the cool, stagnant air in the room somehow feels even more wintry and pronounced against Phoenix’s skin as soon as they’ve untangled themselves and separated. ‘How long were we asleep …?’

‘Not sure, I—’ Out of nowhere, realization hits Phoenix in full force. ‘Oh, crap, I still need to prepare for the Ian Fayes murder trial.’

‘You have a trial? What trial?’ Edgeworth straightens his crooked glasses, peers at Phoenix with half-lidded eyes. ‘You haven’t even passed the bar.’

That stops Phoenix immediately in his tracks.

‘Wait, what? What are you even talking about, yes I have?’

Edgeworth tuts at that, teeth clicking with exasperation. ‘Yes, Wright, I know you’ve passed it once, like a decade ago. Clearly I’m referring to passing it again, now that your name’s been cleared. Why else would I be here?’

He makes a sweeping motion with his hand, gesturing pointedly at the chaotic mess of books and paper and flashcards scattered across the coffee table in front of them. All of which Phoenix recognizes, all of a sudden, as his study materials from when he’d retaken the bar exam two years ago.

For a moment, he can only stare at the mountains of notes, completely perplexed. And then, he inadvertently looks down, and sees exactly what he’s wearing.

His stomach instantly drops.

‘… Edgeworth,’ he says slowly, full of dread. ‘What—’

The words snag in his throat, shrivel at the back of his tongue. He can’t just ask Edgeworth what year it is right now, because that’s an insane question to even consider, isn’t it?

After all, the epiphany that’s literally just dawned on him can’t be possible. It can’t be. There has to be some other explanation for why Edgeworth’s alleging that he hasn’t retaken the bar, or why his old study materials are all strewn in front of him again after two years, or why he’s now back to wearing the dark grey hooded sweatshirt that he’d made sure to pack away for good two years ago. Right?

He looks up again; the sight of the empty, gaping space where Athena’s desk should be is almost like a punch to the gut.

Athena had only joined the agency shortly before the mid-year release of the February bar exam results two years ago. A chill crawls up Phoenix’s spine.

‘Sorry,’ he blurts out shakily, reaching over to the corner of the coffee table and making a desperate grab for Edgeworth’s phone. ‘I need to borrow this.’

‘Wright, seriously, what on earth—’

Thankfully, the phone’s already unlocked. Phoenix bites down on his lower lip, pulls up a search engine, quickly types in What’s today’s date.

Within seconds, the result comes back as: Saturday, 9 January 2027. Only mere weeks before he’d taken the bar exam for the second time in his life, two years ago.

‘Oh my god,’ he breathes, stunned and tremulous.

Logically, rationally, this can’t be real. But then again, it does explain why Apollo had mysteriously come back yesterday, and why he and Athena had been casually chatting about some funeral as if Clay Terran’s death was a fresh wound and not something that’d happened a year ago. It does explain why they’d all spent most of the day yesterday meticulously wrapping up and filing away every relevant State vs. Starbuck and State vs. Cykes document as if the Phantom trial and case had only just newly come to an end. It does explain why Phoenix had felt that something was out of place, as if there’d been a minor change in his surroundings even if nothing had looked wildly different at first glance.

Most of all, it does explain why Edgeworth had seemed to have no memory whatsoever of the incident that’d thrown his friendship with Phoenix into a raw, delicate state.

‘Is this – is this really happening,’ Phoenix says to himself, half-choked with astonishment.

Edgeworth carefully reaches over, tilting the phone in Phoenix’s grip at an angle to get a better view of what’s on the screen, before skewing his mouth into a frown.

‘… I know that the exam’s coming up fast,’ he murmurs, his fingers warm against Phoenix’s skin; he doesn’t make any attempt to actually pull the phone away. ‘But you’ve done it before, and you can do it again. Deep breaths, Wright. Knowing you, you’re going to be just fine.’

Phoenix doesn’t even know whether to laugh or cry over the fact that Edgeworth’s apparently completely misunderstood his reason for looking up the date in the first place.

‘Maybe it’d be best if we took a break for the rest of the evening.’ Quiet and calm, but piercingly aware; Edgeworth can tell, at least, that something’s pretty awfully wrong. ‘Rest is a crucial part of study, anyway, and I’m happy to continue to assist you for the rest of the weekend. Should I make us both tea? Or coffee or hot chocolate for you? We can just sit and wind down for the night.’

‘I, uh. I don’t remember if I have anything to make hot chocolate in here, but I do try to keep the office stocked up with that tea that you like,’ Phoenix rasps out gratefully, and Edgeworth’s eyes crease at the edges with appreciation, star-bright and equally grateful. Then, in a bid to settle his own nerves, Phoenix continues: ‘You know … I don’t think I can ever thank you enough for trusting in me.’

‘You’ve spent most of your life trusting in me,’ Edgeworth answers coolly, pushing himself up onto his feet and making his way to the office kitchenette. Phoenix misses the heat of the touch at the back of his palm already.

‘But you could’ve literally gone to anyone else with your so-called special request. Like Raymond Shields, or whoever. Anyone would’ve been in a better position to, uh, clear your subordinate of suspicion, as you put it.’ It’s hard to press his emotions down, to keep it from rising to the surface in his voice, especially in the face of the knowledge that Edgeworth cares this much for him. Not just as an attorney, but as a friend. ‘You believing in me means a lot more to me than you know.’

‘It means just as much to me that you’re here, putting yourself through the absolute hell of retaking the bar only after I’d made that request.’ The words coil taut, as if Edgeworth’s deliberately keeping his tone even too. ‘That’s a solid two times, now, that you’ve decided to become a lawyer because you wanted to help me.’

Phoenix shrugs at that. ‘I don’t think I’d actually mind doing it ten times over if you were the one asking.’

There’s a faint stumble in the rise and fall of Edgeworth’s ribs, almost like his breath’s tipped over in his lungs. But that’s some dangerous territory that Phoenix knows he can’t get swept up in right now, so he doesn’t say anything else.

He nearly forgets about the bizarre time travel thing when Edgeworth comes back with his fingers curled around two mugs of tea, when Edgeworth moves to sit close enough to him on the couch that their arms and thighs actually touch, when Edgeworth proceeds to spend the rest of the evening indulging him in warm, casual conversation to calm him down. All in all, Phoenix doesn’t particularly remember the two of them being this snug and laid bare back when he’d originally been studying to retake the bar two years ago, but he hadn’t been losing his mind over any weird time leaps then – which was all it’d taken for Edgeworth to have readily wanted to offer some consolation and for both of them to have opened up just now; in hindsight, maybe their friendship was always, always going to blossom like this sooner or later, in one way or another, no matter what.

At any rate, Phoenix is more than okay with letting himself find comfort in whatever’s left of the night, and with letting the time travel problem wait.

He stirs awake to the rising beat of his own pulse, and his overly lively ringtone blaring too insistently next to his ear.

His eye cracks open to the sight of elegant light fixtures, sleek walls, and pale morning sunshine pouring through the open space between classy gold-trimmed curtains; the blanket haphazardly twisted around his hips and knees is soft to an extravagant degree – too luxurious to be anything he owns himself – and it doesn’t take long for recognition and realization to trickle into his senses.

For some reason, he’s in Edgeworth’s guest bedroom in Germany. A room that he’d become more than familiar with in the seven years after he’d lost his badge.

A whine of complaint clambers its way out of his throat at the revelation; the last thing he remembers is drifting off on his office couch next to Edgeworth yet again after the two of them had leisurely talked all night, his old study notes and books sprawled across the coffee table in front of them in cluttered, forgotten piles. Now, he’s all the way across the ocean with his phone relentlessly ringing, the Steel Samurai theme bright and upbeat against the backdrop of his own helplessly tragic situation.

Maya’s name flashes on the phone screen, bold and stubborn. He takes the call.

‘Do me a favor and tell me today’s date,’ he scratches out, voice thick and heavy with lingering residues of sleep. ‘Including the year.’

‘Huh? Why?’

‘Just – humor me, please.’ A despairing groan, half-caught on the tail end of a yawn.

‘… Uh, okay. February 5th, 2024? What’s this about?’

So after apparently having been sent nearly a year into the past, followed by an additional year after that – it’s still surreal to acknowledge or even think about, and hard to believe that he’s actually seriously mulling over something that’s so out of this world – he’s now seemingly been flung back a further three years in one single shot. Great.

‘It’s hard to explain,’ Phoenix mutters, thumbing the bleary moisture out of his eyes and finally hoisting himself upright on the bed. ‘Although … I wouldn’t mind getting your expert opinion on something that’s been bothering me.’

‘Expert opinion, you say,’ Maya preens a little too gleefully, almost as if Christmas has just come early.

‘Yeah. Just out of curiosity – what’s your opinion on time travel? I’m talking in, like, a real world sense, not something out of the movies or whatever. I’d kinda be interested to hear what your concept of it is. You know, in terms of how possible it is and stuff, I guess.’

There’s no doubt, after all, that this whole predicament had bled straight out of that failed spirit channeling session for his most recent case, especially considering his first time-leap had come immediately after he’d passed out in the channeling chamber.

‘What the actual hell, Nick. I’m just a spirit medium, not some authority on the mysteries of the universe.’ Even half a world away, Phoenix can almost see the petulant pout wrapped around her voice. ‘I mean, I wouldn’t go as far as to say that it’s impossible just because I’ve never heard of it happening before, but either way, it’s something I know close to nothing about. Seriously, though, what brought this on?’

Well then. From what it sounds like, the spirit channeling mishap must’ve been a one-in-a-million accident – one that Maya has no idea how to help him out of. For an unsettling moment, he has to wonder if these time-leaps exist in a pocket all on their own, or whether he’s done anything in these last two days that can potentially change the course of history; as far as he can recall, he’d made some reference to the present day twice by mentioning the name of the murder victim in his latest case. Once in front of the 2028 versions of Athena and Apollo, two days ago, and once in front of the 2027 version of Edgeworth, just yesterday.

He counts to ten, tells himself to take a breath. With any luck, all three of them would think that he’d just been stressed and babbling nonsense, and that hopefully, everything will be fine. As long as he’s careful with whatever he says and does from this point forward – or, more accurately, backward.

‘… Never mind. Just needed to talk about something to distract myself, maybe.’

Maya gives a lilting hum. ‘From what?’

And with the opening he’s just been offered, he’s suddenly dying to talk about the incident. To dull the edges; to get at least some of it off his chest before he bursts at the seams. He couldn’t afford to get distracted by it during the spirit channeling session, but he’s far from busy now. For the most part, as long as he doesn’t mention any identifying details or goes too in-depth with what’d happened, it should technically be okay. Right?

‘Mmm, guess I’m like, nursing a heartache. Or whatever.’

For a few seconds, there’s dense, hanging silence. And then: ‘… Whoa. Are you saying that you met someone?’

‘Cool your jets, Maya,’ Phoenix sighs, kneading circles into his own temple with two fingers. ‘Nothing happened.’

‘But you just said—’

‘—I’m saying that nothing was what happened.’ A shameless repeat of their conversation in the channeling chamber three days ago, but that’d technically been five years in the future from this point, and he really can’t think of a more suitable way to shape his gnarled mess of thoughts into words. ‘By that I mean that it didn’t even get a chance to happen to begin with. So nothing actually officially started, and nothing came out of it.’

God, he probably needs a drink. As in, a real one. But all he has within reach is a bottle of grape juice that’d clearly been left overnight on the nightstand, which he’s just going to have to settle for.

He opens it, pulls in a sip. It’s sort of lukewarm, which isn’t so great – but the mundane, ordinary blandness of it is weirdly grounding and real, hooking him in, keeping his head on straight.

‘I suppose … for lack of a better term, I kinda got strung along, I think,’ he continues, filling in the heavy pause that Maya had left him. ‘Like, not completely intentionally, even though I know that probably doesn’t make sense by definition, but I swear it does in my case. Either way, I’m not gonna point fingers and throw blame. I just … don’t think the, uh, the other party necessarily meant for things to turn out the way it did, that’s all. So yeah.’

‘Okay, so you don’t blame the other party for leading you on, or whatever it was that happened,’ Maya says, cautious and purposeful. ‘Does that mean that you blame yourself?’

It’s a little scary, sometimes, how Maya can see right through him.

At the end of the day, he can’t say for sure whether the incident was mostly caused by his own hopeful optimism coming way too early, or whether Edgeworth’s pursuit of him leading up to said incident didn’t match up as perfectly with his actual feelings as Phoenix had expected, or whether both of them simply can’t read each other as well as they’d thought. Whatever it may have been, Edgeworth’s hardly at fault in literally any of those instances. Which can really only leave the blame in one place.

Before he can even come up with any semblance of a reply, though, there’s a light and gentle knock on the bedroom door – and he’s barely even looked up to answer when it swings open just a touch, and Trucy’s head pokes in.

‘… Are you for real still in bed, Daddy,’ she huffs with disapproval. ‘I’ve already had breakfast with Mr. Edgeworth like twenty minutes ago! We’ve been waiting for you downstairs.’

Phoenix lets out a full breath, tense and wavering. ‘Okay, Truce, I’ll be right out. Just gotta wrap up this call.’

‘Nick,’ Maya says in unmistakable warning. ‘Don’t you dare avoid the—’

‘—Oops, sorry Maya, gotta go. Talk to you again some other time,’ he says, smoothly hanging up. And that’s that.

It isn’t until he’s strolling outside in the cool, crisp air with Trucy and Edgeworth a half-hour later, heading toward Edgeworth’s Berlin office just a few blocks away, that he finds Edgeworth sneaking little sidelong glances at him – which he hadn’t particularly noticed back when they’d originally done this years ago, considering everything else that he remembers weighing on his mind at the time. A series of subtle looks made up of one part curiosity to two parts concern, blended together with something else that Phoenix recognizes a bit too well from the last few months: a flicker of something warm and quiet and personal, something that’d sparked thrill all the way down to his toes back before the incident. Something that, even after said incident, still flares hot in the pit of his belly anyway.

He almost can’t believe that Edgeworth’s been looking at him like that for this long. For all he knows, it’s probably been even longer.

Something throbs in his chest like a dull pain at the thought.

‘… I might actually have you look at an active case today, purely as a research example. I feel as though it’s currently being handled in a very unique way compared to how it would’ve been handled back in the States.’ Edgeworth clears his throat as soon as he visibly notices Phoenix watching him too. ‘I can give you a very quick, bare-bones rundown before we actually peruse the documents in the office – most of the time, the files do explain themselves, but this is a rather absurd case in itself. Complete with the type of oddball defendant that’d fit right in with your client history.’

‘Weird cases definitely are Daddy’s specialty, aren’t they,’ Trucy says with a cheeky grin, looping an arm around Phoenix’s elbow.

Phoenix rolls his eyes with affection and nudges her in the ribs, drawing out a glimmering laugh from between her teeth. ‘Oh, I probably wouldn’t say that. Not at this moment in time, at least.’

He can’t say that he’s altogether pleased about being thrown back to the past to begin with, let alone to some of the darkest years of his life. But there’s no helping it – whether he wants to or not, he’s well aware that he has to go through this day all over again.

Edgeworth’s expression softens, and he briefly presses his lips together into a thin line. ‘I trust that you of all people would be able to find justice in a seemingly hopeless situation, Wright. With persistence, I’m sure you’ll manage to find some way to fix what’s been done to you. But in the meantime … I have to say I’m quite grateful for your willingness to come all the way here as usual. It’d be a shame not to put your special talents to good use, especially given that they’d actually assist me a great deal.’

Phoenix dips his head low, suddenly a little self-conscious. It definitely isn’t the first time that Edgeworth’s complimented his uncanny ability to see things with a unique perspective, and by extension, his ongoing success in solving even the most perplexing and difficult cases because of it. After all, Edgeworth had been perfectly happy to fly him – and Trucy, too – to the other side of the world countless times during his seven-year departure from practicing law to help provide a second opinion on various aspects of the European legal system; and even when he’s gotten used to hearing this kind of modest praise, he can’t help the heated flush from smudging across his own cheekbones anyway.

‘No need to thank me, Edgeworth. For real, I’m just as grateful to you. Especially when everything’s been on your dollar in the first place.’

‘I have more than enough to spare,’ Edgeworth replies, easy and accepting. He turns his head for a moment, evidently making sure that the footpath’s deserted and that no one’s in their surroundings, before continuing, ‘Now then, the case. It’s a double shooting that started off with an illegally smuggled wild goose, of all things—’

Phoenix snorts with amusement. He does recall Edgeworth presenting him with this case five years ago, clear as day.

He’s just about to make some offhand comment in reply when his phone chimes and vibrates in his pocket; without really thinking, he fishes it out, and presses the new message open.

Kristoph Gavin, 8:37am – Where are you? This is the second day in a row that you haven’t been in when I’ve come by. Didn’t I already mention that it’s in your best interests to let me know if you needed to spend some extended time anywhere, so that I can have your back if anything happens?

With an emphatic sniff, he thumbs over to the delete button, and erases the message instantly.

His skin crawls. He remembers this, too – sneaking around in the later years of his association with Kristoph, trying to slowly figure out his own rise from the ashes right under Kristoph’s nose, moving to slip away without prior warning whenever Edgeworth had needed him to fly over. For a rebellious moment, he considers yanking the puppet strings straight from Kristoph’s hands by actually sending some form of reply anyway, even when he knows that it’d only end up spiraling into some perverse game of half-truths the moment Kristoph inevitably ends up replying too.

But he catches Edgeworth staring at him from the corner of his eye, and it’s enough to immediately vanish that temptation in a cloud of smoke.

‘… Everything alright?’

‘A-okay,’ he answers with surprise, all thoughts of Kristoph already fading to dust, already on their way to flat-out leaving him for good. And in some peculiar way, he is okay. Because being here with Edgeworth’s admittedly like a soothing balm all on its own, even when someone so treacherous and cunning’s evidently trying to track his movements. Even with having to live through the days of his disbarred years again. Even after the incident that’d left his friendship with Edgeworth in a weird funk in the present day.

It’s strange, really, how tightly interconnected the two of them are that he can feel stung and safe all at the same time.

Edgeworth throws him an appreciative look, unsmiling but relieved, stirring up butterflies in Phoenix’s stomach before he can so much as think of stamping them down.

The next day, he finds himself in Munich in the summer of 2022.

He feels kind of bad about being the reason that they’d left the library so early. Which had been unavoidable – their rigorous search through piles of old newspapers for some obscure detail on courtroom history that he couldn’t remember too much about had abruptly come to an end after he’d gradually grown restless without realizing, prompting Edgeworth to insist that he take a break, which had then resulted in Edgeworth getting nowhere with the information-gathering on his own; thankfully, it hadn’t taken much for Phoenix to mellow out and cool down, at least. A minute or two of having firmly planted himself in the outdoor seating of a tiny, cozy café on a relatively quiet street, and he’s already starting to feel somewhat like himself again.

There’d been plenty of books on physics and other related topics that he’d been able to poke his nose into during the so-called break that Edgeworth had urged him to take, but he’d understood none of them – even the English ones – and the few that he did have a basic grasp on hadn’t held any substantial information about time travel or anything like that.

So, seemingly, he’s stuck like this.

‘… I’m not pushing you too hard, am I,’ Edgeworth says across from him, lifting the porcelain teacup to his lips. There’s a tiptoeing quality to the words, as if he’s cautious. Guarded.

Phoenix remembers, all of a sudden, that having woken up in 2022 today means that it’s still a relatively early part of his disbarment period; in that respect, Edgeworth’s wariness makes complete sense. Edgeworth clearly must’ve interpreted his distraction over his time travel predicament to be a totally different kind of agitation.

‘Nah, you’re fine. I’m the one who should be sorry for wasting your time and money. I just have a lot on my mind.’

‘I’d be surprised if you didn’t.’ Edgeworth’s little sips of his earl grey are delicately polite, maybe somewhat measured. ‘I hope you’ll let me know, though, if you’re not feeling up to any of the consulting work. So that I can make alternate arrangements.’

The statement’s cool and detached, as matter-of-fact as if it’s just straightforward business, except for the slightly softer undercurrent clearly tucked into the reply as a whole. Phoenix wonders if Edgeworth knows how obvious he can actually be when he cares enough about something.

‘… Hey, don’t you worry. You already do so much for me as it is – can’t have you being the one to swoop in and save the day every single time, can we? It’s about time I pulled my weight and had a turn.’

Absentmindedly, Phoenix stretches his foot underneath the table, which grazes his ankle against Edgeworth’s without him meaning to.

But intentional or not, the resulting reaction’s instant. Edgeworth’s shoulders tense taut; the tips of his ears burn pink. A faint shiver ripples briefly through the teacup in his fingers, and his gaze plummets low, dropping right down to his saucer and teaspoon.

For a moment, Edgeworth’s foot actually nudges forward too, almost curious, experimental. But then, he seems to lose his nerve, slowly pulling back with a look of mild regret scrawled all over his face.

Phoenix’s eyes circle out wide.

‘Says the very same man who saved me without an ounce of hesitation,’ Edgeworth murmurs, a sliver of pale teeth biting at his bottom lip. ‘You don’t owe me anything, and believe me, you absolutely never will.’

‘I mean, if we’re gonna play that game, then I can say the same for you.’ Phoenix raises an eyebrow at that, pointed and purposeful. ‘But I appreciate it, in any case.’

The reservation and restraint on Edgeworth’s end makes perfect sense, really. Phoenix had grown so used to all the casual touches – like Edgeworth accidentally falling asleep against his shoulder two days ago; or Edgeworth’s friendly nudge to his arm the day before that; and not to mention everything before the incident – that he’d almost forgotten that there had, in fact, been a time before Edgeworth had gotten used to doing anything like that.

Which is fine, considering Phoenix knows how to respect boundaries either way. Although it’s strange, witnessing and recognizing Edgeworth’s progress in reverse. Not that he can do anything about it, seeing as the two of them are currently traveling in opposite directions in time.

Still, this is oddly nice – in a raw, heavy-hearted way. A new, thrilling aspect of their steadily flowering friendship that’s still young and fresh and hopeful, unlike what it’d unraveled into in the present day.

‘Honestly, Wright,’ Edgeworth heaves out a sigh, dramatic and long-suffering. ‘What’ll I do with you.’

‘Keep me neck-deep in the legal world forever, apparently,’ Phoenix answers good-naturedly, his curving smile just a little tremulous at the edges. ‘Do you wanna come back with me to the hotel room after we’re done here? I’m sure Trucy would love it if you came by to say hi.’

‘I suppose I could. Though let it be known that if your daughter tries to do another magic trick involving making my jabot disappear, I’m holding you personally responsible.’

Satisfied, Phoenix leans back in his chair, slurping gracelessly at his hot chocolate and trying his best not to dwell on any lingering thought of how, technically speaking, the sensible thing to do would’ve been to give himself a bit of time away from Edgeworth after the incident. Then again, time itself seems to have other plans for him that aren’t exactly making it possible to do that at all.

Not to mention that no matter what’d happened between them, Edgeworth’s still one of his closest friends, and he has no intention of throwing their friendship away over some unfortunate misunderstanding anyway.

He clamps his teeth together, quickly closes a tight-fisted grip around the idea that it’ll all somehow turn out for the best, and shrugs off anything else that might be lurking in the hidden corners of his mind.

People don’t call him simple and trusting without a reason, after all.

‘Hi, you’ve reached Phoenix Wright at the Wright and Co. Law Offices. I’m currently unavailable to take your call, but please leave a message and I’ll get right back to you.’

He stirs awake to the rising beat of his own pulse, and a shrill beep piercing unpleasantly through the room.

‘Wright … look. I know this is the fourth time I’ve called, but – please. I implore you to pick up.’

Phoenix’s eyes open into a drowsy squint, dazed and disoriented. Familiar walls; familiar shelves; familiar furnishings without all of the magic show props and general clutter that he’s become so used to in recent years. Trucy’s fast asleep on one of the nearby couches, curled up tightly enough into herself that the pink magician’s cape draped over her body manages to cover her almost completely. It’s been so long since he’d seen her that small.

Back in Los Angeles, back in the office. Home sweet home – or whatever home had been at the time.

‘… I’ve tried contacting nearly every last person I know over there, but there’s only so much I can do without actually hearing about it straight from you. Regrettably, I’m tied up in some complicated business in Hamburg at the moment and can’t fly over, but generally speaking, that shouldn’t prevent me from being able to look into whatever you might need me to.’

He flicks his gaze down; apparently, he’d fallen asleep right at his desk. A disarray of crumpled newspapers litters the tabletop from end to end, greeting him with bold front-page headlines of Disgraced Attorney Loses Legal License Following Devastating Gramarye Trial and a whole plethora of other colorful titles that he would’ve been happy not to revisit ever again. Judging by Trucy’s presence here, as well as May 6th being the most recent date that he can see printed in the corners of the newspapers at a cursory glance, he can only guess that it’s currently sometime during early May in 2019 – just a handful of weeks after he’d been disbarred.

Now, he notices, there isn’t only a yawning, empty gap where Athena’s desk should be. Apollo’s desk is also nowhere to be seen at this point, leaving the office with too much hollow space between its walls. Too bare, too wide, too quiet.

‘—I was also just very recently put in touch with the defense attorney who voted against your disbarment, but he was reluctant to speak to me for very long or divulge too many details, which didn’t help matters—’

As calm and level-headed as Edgeworth sounds, there’s something about his voice that’s almost strained at the seams, tinged with the kind of breathlessness that Phoenix can really only describe as mildly flustered. Back when he’d originally had to go through his disbarment, Phoenix hadn’t exactly been in the right state of mind to pay attention to anything like that; in fact, he hadn’t so much as taken a single call from Edgeworth or replied to any of Edgeworth’s messages for nearly a year after he’d turned in his badge.

He wonders if what Edgeworth’s saying right now has the same vague desperation behind it that he himself had felt back in his college years, when he’d learned of Edgeworth’s newly acquired Demon Attorney title from the newspapers and Edgeworth hadn’t replied to a single letter he’d sent.

In hindsight, he almost feels a little bad for all the times that he hadn’t picked up, even when he knows that he’d had more than valid reasons not to.

‘—Whatever may have happened, I don’t believe you to be capable of what everyone’s saying. Even Franziska doubts that you were actually responsible. I would hope that you’re going to—’

With a careless sweep of his hand, Phoenix pushes aside just enough newspapers to unearth the office phone at the corner of his desk, before finally picking up the receiver.

‘That means a lot, Edgeworth,’ he says, frank and simple.

Edgeworth stops abruptly, caught off-guard. For a long, hanging moment, Phoenix doesn’t hear anything beyond the swollen and ballooning silence now dangling in the air between them. Not even a stray noise in the background. Not even Edgeworth’s breaths.

‘Uh, are you still there?’

‘I … sorry. I didn’t expect you to actually pick up.’

As inappropriate as it is for the situation, Phoenix can’t help rolling his eyes in disbelief, though without any real bite. ‘You started off this call imploring me to pick up.’

‘I know, but you let me keep going without saying anything, and – god, you’re going to make me age fifty years overnight with how you function as a human being, Wright.’

‘You practically came out of the womb already fifty years old, so that isn’t saying much, is it.’

An irritable sigh, a click of a tongue. Which is already enough to paint a portrait of what Edgeworth probably looks like on the other end of the line right now: pinched and exasperated, emphatically digging the delicate pads of his fingers into his eyes to rub away the inevitable oncoming headache. The corners of Phoenix’s mouth twitch upward at the mental image.

‘Anyway, why don’t you tell me about your day?’

Another lingering pause, colored by the same air of surprise. Edgeworth mustn’t have been particularly expecting that either.

‘… Pardon? It’s hardly the right time to talk about me, isn’t it? I’m calling regarding your—’

‘—I know, but I’d rather hear something good. So talk to me about you,’ Phoenix cuts in, soft and sincere. ‘I promise it’s enough for me to just hear your voice.’

He can’t put his finger on what it is, exactly, but this is different. Something about observing and reliving his own past with whatever experience and wisdom, happiness and pain, hardship and success that he’s already coaxed out of the nine-odd years since this moment had actually happened the first time – he’d been so focused on just trying to cope and get through each day back then that he hadn’t been able to see anything beyond his own miserable situation.

And now, he can. He can see Edgeworth, clear as day. He can see how worried Edgeworth is about him, even though he’s aware that Edgeworth would never say it outright at this point in time. He can see how close by Edgeworth really is, even when he’s an entire ocean away.

His heart clenches at the thought.

‘… This morning, I came across a tiny hole-in-the-wall tea shop that specializes in unique blends that I’d never seen or heard of before,’ Edgeworth pipes up eventually. ‘A small number of the recipes were imported, but most of the ingredients seem to be local. The shopkeeper brewed a sample of this incredibly interesting wildflower infusion for me that I ended up buying a shameful amount of. I’m sure I’ll still be drinking it months down the road, but either way, at least I’ll have a new beverage to enjoy in the evenings to come.’

A typical Edgeworth move, talking about the part of his day that’d had no relevance to the legal world at all in order to spare Phoenix’s feelings – especially considering he’s under the impression that he’s talking to a version of Phoenix whose reputation and career had only just fallen to pieces. In all honesty, Edgeworth’s kindness has always been subtle and quiet, a stark contrast to his extravagant fashion and flashy cars, and Phoenix’s appreciation for him might actually crack the whole sky open if it surges any higher.

‘Yeah? Are you gonna bring any for your best buddy to try out the next time you’re here?’

‘I wouldn’t trust you to be able to tell a gourmet tea apart from ramen broth, Wright.’

Phoenix lets out a genuine, breathy laugh that thankfully doesn’t wake Trucy up.

Maybe revisiting this part of his life isn’t as agonizing as he’d thought it’d be, after all.

‘… Thanks for coming by. I know that it must’ve put an unnecessary strain on you, with everything that’s happened.’

‘It’s no problem.’ The answer’s dusted with tiny sniffles, which is a bit of an inconvenience, but hardly surprising as far as Phoenix is concerned; he’d woken up earlier this morning to find that time had now landed him in February of 2019, specifically the day after Iris’ trial had ended – so logically speaking, he’s aware that his body would’ve still been carrying the leftover cold that he’d contracted from the whole falling-off-the-bridge debacle, everything considered. ‘So what was it that you said you had for me?’

‘I spent last night putting together a few additional documents relevant to my portion of Sister Iris’ defense,’ Edgeworth replies, reaching for the manila folder that’s already discreetly tucked under his arm, because of course he’s already well-prepared even from the moment he’d opened the door for Phoenix. ‘And I do mean my defense, not the actual case itself. After some thought, I figured that with the abhorrent state our legal system’s obviously in, we may have a good chance of keeping my time at the defense’s bench strictly within the walls of the courtroom.’

Ah. Phoenix’s eyes trail down to the manila folder; surprisingly, he does remember Edgeworth making this offer, even when it’s been nearly a decade since it’d actually happened the first time. ‘You mean keeping it from actually reaching the Bar Association.’

‘Look, even before this, a thug impersonated you and stood at the defense’s bench using a cardboard badge. I believe that it mightn’t be too farfetched to hope that no one finds out that a prosecutor had literally taken on a client’s defense – provided that people don’t go poking into your hospital records to find out when you were admitted, both judges put this entire case behind them without asking any questions, and the whole gallery forgets I existed.’ Edgeworth’s eyelids fall shut and he pinches the bridge of his nose, releasing a long, full-bodied sigh that may as well have held the whole world’s share of despair in its inner layers. ‘God, what an absolute circus this whole thing is.’

A wisp of airy laughter escapes Phoenix’s lungs at that, but he quickly molds it into a less conspicuous cough. ‘Which is why I’m here, I take it. It simply wouldn’t do for a prosecutor to be in breach of judicial ethics by working against his own office, would it now.’

The simmering glare that Edgeworth levels at him is completely worth it. ‘Given that you knowingly lent me your badge, you do share the responsibility if anyone were to find out. There’s no ifs or buts about it. We’d both be held accountable.’

‘I know, I know. I’m just poking some fun and giving you a hard time.’

Edgeworth ignores that comment, pointedly thrusting the manila folder in Phoenix’s direction without any shred of nonsense. ‘Everything I’ve got here should smooth things over and give the impression that you led the entire defense on your own, without my involvement. Obviously you’d need to put in a little extra work to integrate them into your own files in a seamless manner, but either way, these should help serve as a starting point. You’re welcome.’

Even when they’ve been through this before, something in Phoenix’s chest swells warm anyway. ‘Thanks, Edgeworth. I really do appreciate it.’

He doesn’t mean for his fingers to graze against the back of Edgeworth’s palm as he’s retrieving the files.

But Edgeworth abruptly yanks his hand away, wide-eyed, and Phoenix’s next breath wilts and dies in his throat.

He’d thought that the last few days had left him in a better place in terms of coping with the incident that’d happened between them. He’d thought that it’d started to hurt a bit less: all the purposeful looks and suggestive sentiments and painfully clear, unambiguous signals that Edgeworth had been giving him for months that’d gone nowhere, because as soon as Phoenix had actually worked up the courage to do anything about it, Edgeworth had reacted to Phoenix pouring his heart out and taking his hand by—

‘—My apologies,’ Edgeworth blurts out, his brows slanting in a look of genuine guilt and surprise. ‘I didn’t mean to—’

Phoenix turns on his heel, and doesn’t hesitate to start leaving.

Okay, so you don’t blame the other party for leading you on, or whatever it was that happened, Maya had commented, deliberate and knowing. Does that mean that you blame yourself?

‘Wright? What’s the matter?’

‘I should make a start on these files.’ He wishes his voice wouldn’t betray him like this, but it’s quivering at the outer corners and burning at the roof of his mouth. ‘Thanks again.’

‘Wright, wait!’

If anything’s able to take command of all of Phoenix’s senses and bearings, it’s Edgeworth’s courtroom voice – after all these years, it’s never failed to hook in his attention, never failed to flare up along his spine like an electric current, never failed to freeze him in his tracks and get him listening. He pauses halfway down the footpath, thin breaths rapid and shallow.

‘I’ve clearly upset you. I’m sorry.’ Edgeworth’s much closer than expected when Phoenix swivels around again; he hadn’t expected Edgeworth to actually chase after him. ‘If you’re at all willing, please let me make it up to you.’

‘It’s fine, Edgeworth,’ Phoenix replies with a half-shaky smile and his heart thundering at a thousand beats a minute. ‘You don’t owe me anything.’

‘It feels like I do,’ Edgeworth answers stubbornly, tension pinching at the already firmly etched regret on his face. For a moment, he actually reaches out as if to touch Phoenix’s arm, but then his fingers curl back into a fist and he doesn’t end up making contact at all. ‘You’re welcome to come in and sit – I can get you something to drink so you can calm down. You can leave at any point if you don’t feel comfortable. There’s no pressure at all, but the offer’s open.’

Phoenix almost groans. For someone as sharp and intelligent as Edgeworth is with logical facts, he hasn’t always had the best track record of handling social and emotional situations well; he probably wouldn’t have led most of his acquaintances to believe that he’d died while disappearing off the face of the earth for the better part of a year a long while back, and the incident in the present day also probably wouldn’t have happened to begin with, if this weren’t the case.

But he’s hardly to blame for not being able to properly read the room right now. Not when the incident hasn’t even happened yet at this point in time; not when he doesn’t actually know why Phoenix is distressed; not when touch obviously doesn’t come easily to him this far back in the past; and not when there’s no doubt at all that his remorse is genuine.

Against all odds, that line of thought does actually manage to slowly calm Phoenix down.

‘… I appreciate the offer, but I think I should get home,’ Phoenix murmurs, sincere in his gratitude but eager to put some space between them for the time being. ‘We can hang out next time.’

‘Alright,’ Edgeworth says acceptingly, his expression schooled into something unreadable.

Phoenix’s quickened pulse is too loud, and the silence between them is even louder, but neither of them say anything else.

This time, when Phoenix walks away, Edgeworth doesn’t try to stop him.

The door sweeps open to the sight of dark undereye circles, a wary frown, and more deep-set forehead lines than a man should really have at Edgeworth’s age.

‘… Is this a bad time?’

Phoenix stares, floored and speechless. Since the moment he’d woken up and checked the date, he’d been wondering why he’d specifically been sent back to late March of 2018 – after all, at this point in history and time, the State vs. Engarde trial had been over for several days, and he hadn’t particularly been doing much during that period other than wrapping up the relevant case files and keeping an eye on Maya to make sure she was okay.

Now he knows. He should’ve guessed, really, seeing as every time he’d taken another step back into the past so far, it’d always been on a day that’d directly involved Edgeworth in some capacity.

So much for putting some space between the two of them for a little while; it’s almost a shame that Phoenix can’t exactly pick a fight with the celestial flow of time itself about what it’s doing to him.

‘… Right. I should’ve called first, I take it,’ Edgeworth bites out, rigid and tight. ‘I’ll just go. It’s not important.’

‘No, no,’ Phoenix sighs, dragging a tense, stiff hand over his face. He must’ve stayed quiet for a little too long just now; an unnecessarily rude slip-up on his part, especially considering the fact that Edgeworth wouldn’t even have any memory of the manila folder mishap from yesterday. He swings the apartment door open wider, and takes a step back. ‘Come on in.’

For a moment, Edgeworth pauses, visibly caught in a hanging midway point between hesitation and resolve. But after a while, he lowers his head in a clipped nod, before moving to take a cautious step inside.

They hover together near the entrance for a little while, keeping a polite distance of several feet apart. Edgeworth restlessly wrings his hands; Phoenix’s feet shuffle against coarse carpeting. The wall clock ticks in loud thuds from where it’s suspended on the opposite side of the room, its deafening rhythm staunchly jutting out like a drumbeat in the silence.

‘I apologize for coming by without any warning. I don’t … actually know how I ended up here,’ Edgeworth says at last, long fingers reaching across to curl a white-knuckled grip around his own elbow: an insecure physical habit that Phoenix hadn’t actually seen from him for a while now. ‘I was mulling over some things that were bothering me, and decided to go on a drive to get some air and clear my head. It didn’t really work. Next thing I knew, I was here.’

Right. Now Phoenix vaguely remembers this happening – back in the day, having Edgeworth drop by at his place at any point was practically like seeing a unicorn. The sheer rarity of it alone was enough to make those scarce visits somewhat easier to recall.

‘… What were you thinking about?’

‘Specifically, how I hurt you.’

Phoenix blinks, unable to keep the stunned surprise from leaking into his face. His head goes blank, confused and thrown off-balance; in all honesty, he’s not even sure what Edgeworth’s referring to.

But then, for the second time in as many days, he remembers the whole fiasco revolving around Edgeworth disappearing for nearly a year – complete with that horrible Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth Chooses Death message and all. And beyond the brief conversation that they’d had in the courtroom lobby at the conclusion of the State vs. Engarde trial about betrayals and dismantled perfect win records and a common pursuit of the truth, there hadn’t particularly been much else in the way of addressing every unsaid detail that could’ve more thoroughly resolved that chapter of their lives.

Which, Phoenix knows, is the reason why Edgeworth’s here.

In any case, for a second there, Edgeworth’s answer had admittedly catapulted Phoenix’s mind to a certain other unrelated incident entirely.

‘Over the last few days since the trial, I’ve spent some time thinking about how few my friends are. Living under Mr. Von Karma had conditioned me to continuously whittle a path to a state of perfection and glory that strictly didn’t allow room for friendships.’ Edgeworth’s next breath leaves him with a faint shudder, slightly unsteady. ‘It’s not an excuse for what I’ve done, of course. But it’s an illuminating detail for me personally in light of how disheartened you were by my actions. Frankly speaking, being close to people isn’t … something that I’m used to, and I fear that that self-imposed roadblock might take years and years to fully unlearn.’

Phoenix presses his lips tightly together, bites down firmly on his tongue. He gets it – really, he understands every word all the way down to the pit of his gut.

It doesn’t sting less anyway.

‘I don’t regret taking time off to find myself. I do, however, regret how I handled it and how much hurt it evidently ended up causing,’ Edgeworth continues in a low voice, catching Phoenix’s eye. ‘You believed in me, defended me, saved me. You cared about me and trusted me – even a few days ago at the trial, you still trusted me, in spite of everything. All I’ve had on my mind lately is how you’d put your trust in me and I’d essentially … let you down, for lack of a better term.’

‘Not gonna lie, it broke my heart,’ Phoenix says thickly.

God, truth be told, he doesn’t even know which incident this whole conversation’s about anymore. Probably both.

Scratch that, it’s definitely both.

Edgeworth’s grip on his own elbow hardens, and his gaze self-consciously slips away. ‘I haven’t – really had very many people in my life whose hearts were even there to break before.’

He looks more or less as frayed and wrung out as Phoenix feels, and strangely, just looking at his unguarded expression’s enough to slowly start to numb and soften the painful, blade-sharp throb in Phoenix’s bones – at least for now. He can’t tell whether it’s his own mental exhaustion catching up to him or whether he doesn’t really feel like running from this anymore; maybe it’s both.

Though at the end of the day, Edgeworth’s current candor and openness is by no means any kind of fix for the mess that Phoenix is in. Not by a long shot. But at least it’s something.

‘… Take a seat, Edgeworth,’ Phoenix says, jerking a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of his couch.

Edgeworth goggles at him for a moment, obviously caught off-guard. ‘Pardon?’

‘Sit and chill. You’re wound so tight you look like you’re gonna snap in two.’ Phoenix wanders over to his TV set, and doesn’t think twice about putting in the closest DVD within reach. Maya had left her collection behind in a jumbled pile on the coffee table when she’d gone back to Kurain earlier that afternoon; he can’t help but be inwardly grateful for that. ‘I think we’ve already said enough for one night. We have all the time in the world to work on it and make things right.’

A clatter of taiko drums rolls over the stagnant air in the room, and Edgeworth’s eyes widen. ‘I didn’t know that you actually watched The Steel Samurai.’

‘Nah, I don’t. These are Maya’s. But maybe you can explain it to me as we go along, since I know how much you like it.’

Edgeworth politely toes off his shoes and makes his way to the couch with measured steps, seeming uncertain. ‘You’d actually want that?’

It’s almost like he hasn’t really done much of this kind of thing, other than when he’d still been a kid; Phoenix wonders if anyone around him actually spends time sharing in his interests in general, both at this point and in the present day. Definitely something that Phoenix is now realizing he’s going to have to put more effort into doing, if he ever manages to miraculously find his way back to the present day in the first place.

‘Why not? Sure.’

To Phoenix’s quiet relief, the taut lines around Edgeworth’s eyes slacken somewhat as he sinks down onto the couch.

They hadn’t done this, back when this day had actually happened in the past. As far as Phoenix can remember, they’d traded a few more clarifications, proceeded to come to a courteous understanding of Edgeworth’s side of things, and Edgeworth had gone home.

So he’s aware that he can probably afford to be a little more liberal, now that he’s already long had that insight under his belt anyway. He ambles over to the pantry in the open kitchen, and pulls out a half-dented box of tea that he shakes meaningfully in Edgeworth’s direction, rustling the tea bags inside.

‘Normal black tea okay?’

Edgeworth narrows his eyes to a squint, peering at the box in disbelief. ‘Why on earth would you buy some godawful convenience store brand when—’

A deliberate, pointed eyebrow raise on Phoenix’s part, and Edgeworth actually bites his lip and sobers.

‘… Yes, it’ll do just fine.’ He clears his throat, slants his mouth. ‘No milk or sugar, thank you.’

‘Coming right up.’

Maybe, just maybe, Phoenix can manage to heal from all this.

He notices, when he comes back with two mugs of hot tea, that Edgeworth kind of sticks out like a sore thumb on his couch – a crisp, straight-backed, ruffly portrait of dignity set against the backdrop of faded fabric upholstery and aged, loose stitching. But for whatever reason, he looks perfectly at home, too.

Phoenix hands Edgeworth one of the mugs, and gently clinks the rim of the other against it. ‘To making the most of friendship.’

Edgeworth lifts his chin and catches Phoenix’s gaze, eye to eye, silent and thoughtful. After a short stretch of a moment, he nods agreeably, and raises the steaming tea to his lips.

‘I’ll drink to that.’

He stirs awake to the rising beat of his own pulse, and harsh sunlight from the windows pummeling down against his eyelids.

It’s been a while since the last time he’d slept in late.

The routine that he’s adopted over the last few days is pretty straightforward in theory – get up, check the date, try to figure out what’d happened on that day in the past, do something about it. And for a minute or two, he can’t actually recall what’d been especially unique about February 27th, 2017 that he’d been sent back here, other than that it’d been a few days after he’d defended Lana Skye.

But then he remembers that he’d never actually found out the exact date of when Edgeworth had left that Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth Chooses Death message and fled. And considering how precise all his time leaps have been so far, he’s almost willing to bet that he’d woken up on this specific day today because Edgeworth’s still around.

Breaking out of his temporary stupor, he makes an urgent grab for his phone, and dials Edgeworth’s number.

Ten rings, fifteen, twenty. Edgeworth doesn’t answer the call. He tries again.

All things considered, he doesn’t actually know if this is a good idea. But even if he has no intention of doing anything rash or disrupting the flow of time, there’s an itch across his skin now that he can’t ignore – he knows that he’s got to say something. For whatever reason, he’s been given this chance; there’s no way he’ll let it go to waste it if he can help it.

It’s only on the fourth redial that Edgeworth actually picks up.

‘Miles,’ Phoenix blurts out instantly, without thinking.

He’s met with dead silence for the better part of a second before the gradual realization dawns on him. Though back in the present day, the two of them had started casually using each other’s first names for almost a week right up until the incident – so even if Phoenix has since gone back to using Edgeworth’s last name like some kind of shield or piece of armor to protect himself, a random and minor slip-up like this while he’d been feeling momentarily flustered and vulnerable shouldn’t be a problem, should it?

‘… Edgeworth. Miles Edgeworth,’ he continues with a gently ribbing tone of mock-indignation, and nearly groans at himself pretty much straight afterward because god, he’s such a damn coward. ‘You’re not trying to ignore me, are you? Do you know how many times I’ve tried to call you just now?’

‘I’ve … been tied up lately.’

With last-minute preparations that wouldn’t leave any loose ends hanging when he runs off and disappears, no doubt. Phoenix has to press his lips together and stay quiet for one, two, three beats to keep his own restless nerves at bay, before hauling in a deep lungful of breath and pushing forward.

‘Hey, you don’t sound so good. Is everything okay?’

A stupid question, he realizes suddenly, because of course Edgeworth’s not okay. There’s no way that anyone can leave the awful note that Edgeworth had left and basically vanish into non-existence afterward – at least as far as nearly everyone was aware – and be okay.

‘… I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘You were pretty frazzled after Ms. Skye’s trial. I’m talking about that resignation letter that Ema and I found in your office. On top of you telling me—’ It’s been over a decade for Phoenix at this point, and he has to strain and rattle his brain somewhat to remember the finer details. ‘—That you’d wandered off to the wrong place, or something? And that you needed to believe in yourself?’

‘It’s literally been a few days since I said either of those things, Wright. It’s any wonder that you’ve actually managed to survive being an attorney for half a year so far with how atrocious your memory is,’ Edgeworth sighs in dismay, and to Phoenix’s relief, he sounds a tiny bit more like himself – snark and banter’s always been their familiar, comfortable middle ground. ‘What I said was that I hadn’t been walking a just path all this time. And that I don’t trust myself.’

‘Right, right.’ So his memory’s abysmal. It’s been hell of a lot longer than a few days, for sure, but still, he’ll happily give Edgeworth that one.

Either way, he’s now gotten Edgeworth talking, at least. A small but significant success.

‘Admittedly, your arrival in the legal world’s managed to upend a lot of things that I thought I’d known. Revisiting the DL-6 incident and losing my mentor in one fell swoop is honestly only a fraction of everything that’s made me re-evaluate my life recently. I don’t have any idea what the future has for me.’

I do, Phoenix doesn’t say, fingers curling tighter around the bulk of his phone. I’m from there.

Instead, he settles for: ‘You know that no matter what happens, I’ve got your back, right?’

For that, he gets another thick length of silence. Although he thinks that he may just be able to hear Edgeworth’s breaths faltering in its undercurrent, fractured and uneven.

‘… I don’t believe I’ve ever told you about this before, but there was one single letter you sent me when we were roughly fifteen that I was able to read without Mr. Von Karma knowing.’

Phoenix’s eyes widen; he hadn’t expected to hear that, of all things. ‘Oh?’

‘By pure coincidence, I’d just happened to be alone outside at the exact moment that the mailman came by with his delivery. I engaged him in some conversation, read the letter with him waiting right there, and then pleaded for him to take it back without telling Mr. Von Karma anything,’ he continues, thankfully talking straight over Phoenix’s sharp inhale to the point where he probably hadn’t even heard it; how on earth had Phoenix never known about this? ‘In my later years of independence, I’d sunken deep enough in the Von Karma method and ideology that it was my own active choice to send back any mail from you unopened, but at this particular point in time, I’d spent six whole years knowing that you’d been sending me letters and that Mr. Von Karma had intercepted and read all of them. I was curious, but there were eyes everywhere in the manor. I couldn’t risk keeping the letter, and I had no time to respond to it either.’

‘It’s … been a while,’ Phoenix says slowly, his words teetering off-balance. ‘What did I say in it?’

‘It was stupidly idealistic. Just like you,’ Edgeworth replies without skipping a beat, and okay, Phoenix supposes he’ll grudgingly give him that one too. ‘You said more or less the same thing you told me just now. And even though I’d essentially disavowed your friendship later on … somehow, that letter stayed with me. It’s all that my mind ever hooked onto whenever I was having a particularly difficult time.’

Everything underneath Phoenix’s skin, from his chest cavity to the marrow of his bones, suddenly burns raw and sore and sensitive.

He wonders if the memory of the letter had stayed with Edgeworth during the almost-year that he’d been gone, too.

‘Well then, what I said is still true, you know,’ he points out, soft and earnest. ‘It’s always gonna be.’

There’s a slight hitch in Edgeworth’s answering hum of acknowledgment. ‘Knowing you, I’m well aware.’

He doesn’t sound like he’s been convinced to call his whole plan off. He sounds like he’s made up his mind. Which is good – Phoenix still doesn’t know how all this time travel stuff works, and the last thing he wants is to alter history in any significant way if that’s something that he even has the power to do.

But the coiling tension in Edgeworth’s voice has clearly eased up a little already, and as far as Phoenix is concerned, that counts for everything.

Edgeworth’s going to be alright.

It’s not long afterward that they wrap up the call and trade their goodbyes, and even when neither of them have really got anything left to say, every last inch of this had been enough that nothing else needed to be said at all.

‘… You know, I remember you telling me something interesting.’

Phoenix’s fingers pause their restless fidgeting at the knot of his necktie, and he perks up with an expectant look. ‘Oh? What’s that?’

‘When I defended you years ago, you mentioned that you were getting into law to help out a friend.’ Mia lays a hand flat on her desk – there’s something surreal about it being Mia’s desk right now, and not Phoenix’s – while leaning her weight against it, hip cocked sideways. ‘Has that changed?’

Hard, wet teeth clamp together in Phoenix’s mouth for a moment. ‘I mean, I’m obviously practicing law for me, but to be completely frank, I don’t think I’ll ever stop wanting to help him out in whatever way I can. I doubt that’s going to change.’

‘Sounds like a pretty special friend,’ Mia says, peering at him through half-lidded eyes.

Phoenix drops his gaze, feeling somewhat exposed; Mia’s stare is definitely too knowing, already peeling him back layer by layer and stripping him right down to his bare bones. ‘He’s a prosecutor.’

‘Ah. Must be nice to be buddies with one.’ A casual hair-flick, a deep-bellied sigh. ‘The ones I’ve come across so far haven’t exactly been, like, shining examples of approachability or anything. You know that the first one I ever went up against literally called me a novice bimbo in court? Boy, I’d still like to grab that kid by the fancy neck ruffles and give him a long lesson on tact.’

Tragically, the clumsy cough that escapes Phoenix’s throat isn’t anywhere near as subtle as he’d hoped it’d be. He gives his necktie another absentminded tug, curved fingers twisting into inexpensive silk.

‘… But that’s beside the point. I’m sure that with hard work, you’ll be able to get what you want.’ Mia pushes herself off the desk at that, making her way over to him with firm-footed strides. ‘Welcome to Fey and Co. Law Offices, Mr. Wright. I look forward to working with you.’

‘Phoenix is totally fine, Ms. Fey. I … appreciate your guidance a lot, for real.’ Phoenix’s voice cracks apart, tense and strained – god, he’s missed her so much. He’s missed her upbeat presence and bright laughter ringing against every wall of the office; he’s missed having her around in general, whether he’s going through a tough time or not. ‘Seriously, I can’t stress that enough.’

And he can’t even start to guess how many more people he’s going to end up missing from this point forward. Trucy’s already practically left a hollow, gaping hole in his chest with her absence – and he misses Apollo and Athena too. He wonders if he’ll be able to see any of them ever again, at this rate.

‘I’ll be sure to do my best. Mia’s fine with me too, by the way. Stop pulling at that, I’ll fix it for you,’ Mia clicks her tongue in exasperation, briefly reaching out to Phoenix’s necktie to fuss over it herself before suddenly pulling back with a surprised, wide-eyed look. ‘Huh. Were you just playing around with this? I thought you needed help, but this knot’s crisp and clean.’

‘Ah, thanks.’

Mia pushes up a thin, delicate eyebrow. ‘Pretty far cry from the absolute mangled disaster you were wearing when you came in for your job interview last week, if you ask me. Don’t tell me you spent your time cramming several years’ worth of practice into a few days or something.’

‘Funny you say that.’ A mild laugh, and Phoenix idly rubs the back of his head, unintentionally whisking his spikes into all imaginable directions.

Even with everything that he’s been going through, his first day as a rookie lawyer ends up being just as refreshing the second time around.

‘Do you know him?’

Slender arms unexpectedly slide around Phoenix’s shoulders from behind, snugly enveloping him, closely holding him against a warm chest. Phoenix startles.

‘Ah – sorry, Feenie.’ Familiar red hair slides into his frame of view from the side, accompanied by a gentle, doe-eyed look of apology. ‘I didn’t mean to scare you.’

For a split second, Phoenix’s heart almost flat-out stops. But then, he remembers that this is actually Iris in disguise, and his stone-cold dread starts to dissipate, slowly trickling away through the gaps between his fingers.

‘It’s okay, Dollie,’ he says, sheepish and genuinely contrite. ‘I’m sorry too. Had a lot on my mind.’

Iris softly squeezes him once before letting go and moving to kneel right next to where he’s seated on the grass; at this hour of the morning, the college campus is still relatively quiet, and there’s hardly anyone walking along the various footpaths in their surroundings.

‘So who’s this? You’ve been staring at that article for so long that you didn’t even see me coming. Is he a friend of yours?’

Phoenix chews on his tongue, peers down at the newspaper in his hands. Even after all these years, the Dark Suspicions Of A Demon Attorney headline isn’t exactly easy to look at.

2014 sure is a different time; there’s a detached coldness to Edgeworth’s expression in the front-page photograph that Phoenix hadn’t seen for a while. It’s kind of surreal, really, knowing how much Edgeworth’s actually changed ever since – and a little regrettable that Phoenix can’t currently reach him, especially this version of him, in more ways than one.

‘You could say that.’

A delicate hand slides over his in consolation, tender and secure. ‘Looks like a tough situation. I hope things work out with him.’

Phoenix glances up at her again, and honestly, he’d nearly forgotten about the way that she’d looked at him. The bright, starry looks that hadn’t been able to hide how helplessly she’d been in love with him – the same looks that’d made the real Dahlia’s incarceration harder to believe. A shock to his system, a harsh wake-up call.

He’s still mulling over this when, completely without warning, Iris tips herself forward at the waist and kisses the corner of his mouth.

For a split second, there’s a fleeting but recognizable spark that makes him feel instantly guilty; an intoxicating buzz and rush that can only come from the chemistry of being intimately touched by someone so physically attractive. Back when he’d actually been dating her in 2014, he probably would’ve whooped for joy and made an absolute fool out of himself right here, in front of the few students walking around. And really, Phoenix would be lying if he’d tried to claim that he didn’t still deeply care for Iris a great deal even now, in the present day and always.

But the actual fire in his belly’s gone. The light-headed, smitten, hopelessly doting infatuation’s gone. The lovestruck adoration’s gone, because his heart’s long been somewhere else since she’d been driven to walk out of his life, and he knows that there’s nothing wrong with that gradual change.

Iris carefully pulls back, gazing as breathlessly at him as if he’d hung the moon in the sky, and even if he doesn’t feel the same way about her anymore, he can’t be more grateful for having her company right now.

‘Yeah.’ His smile’s faint and small, but sincere. ‘I hope so too.’

He doesn’t even hear the approaching footsteps; the only warning he gets is the faint splash of shadow suddenly looming over his shoulder.

‘… Time travel? Are you thinking of changing your mind and studying to be a physicist instead?’

‘Ah, no! Looking it up for fun, I guess. Just bored, that’s all,’ Phoenix huffs out an awkward laugh, resisting the overwhelming urge to immediately close the internet browser window – that likely would’ve just made him look more suspicious than he probably already does, at the end of the day. He swivels around in the creaking computer chair, eyes widening with delight at the mouthwatering sandwiches being held at his eye level. ‘Thanks for lunch, Mom.’

‘Not at the computer desk,’ his mom frowns, yanking the plate right out of his reach. ‘Come eat properly at the table, please.’

He gives her one of his thousand-watt grins, which gets him an affectionate eyeroll in reply, before moving to do as he’s asked.

His online search unfortunately hadn’t turned up anything useful at the last minute – in hindsight, it might’ve been too ambitious to keep trying to single-handedly fix his own messy situation, even with the renowned title of Turnabout Terror to his name. Though all in all, he’s not particularly too surprised that there isn’t much he can do when he’s currently stuck in his fifteen-year-old body and altogether clueless about what’s going to happen once he’s inevitably thrown back in time even further, more and more. He’s just chewing through his second sandwich, mind involuntarily wandering over to vague thoughts of whether or not he’s actually going to straight-up disappear from existence in the next few days, when his mom nervously comes wandering back to the dining table with an inconspicuous letter clutched between her fingers.

‘… Looks like this one came back too,’ she says in a soft voice, gently setting it down next to his plate. ‘I’m so sorry, Phoenix.’

Considering he’d sent so many letters just like this one in the past, he doesn’t even have to strain himself to quickly recognize what it is he’s actually looking at. With a point-blank stare, he swallows, breath snagging at the base of his throat. After an agonizing moment, he puts down what’s left of his sandwich before slowly, cautiously reaching out for the envelope.

There was one single letter you sent me when we were roughly fifteen that I was able to read without Mr. Von Karma knowing.

Weirdly enough, he remembers this moment. He remembers sending Edgeworth precisely one letter when he was around fifteen years old, several years after he’d initially given up trying, and feeling dismayed at finding that it’d unceremoniously come back too. He remembers how discouraged and upset he’d been as he’d dejectedly tossed it into the back of his drawer without so much as another glance.

He doesn’t remember reining his emotions in long enough to actually think of inspecting it, because back then, that’s the one thing he hadn’t done.

And now that he’s eyeballing it up close and giving it his full attention, he can see that it’d been very carefully opened and just as carefully resealed with as much meticulous attention as if it’d been something valuable, precious, irreplaceable. In contrast, he can recall that every other letter that he’d sent before this one had come back with the envelope visibly and carelessly slashed open, as if some cold, fancy letter knife had been used by someone else.

It’s a small, inconsequential difference – a tiny detail that shouldn’t really mean much in the big picture. But before he even knows it, something’s tangled itself into a knotted lump in his throat, and his mouth’s gone completely dry.

A weathered hand slides over his shoulder, offering him a knowing, comforting squeeze. ‘You still haven’t given up on him, have you.’

He almost wants to laugh, trembling and rough at the edges. As they say, Mom always knows best.

He stirs awake to the rising beat of his own pulse, and a too-firm grip stubbornly shaking his upper arms.

‘Wake up, Phoenix. Come on, it’s getting late.’

A nonsensical mumble vaguely resembling dismissal, and Phoenix rolls over, disagreeably scrunching up his eyebrows.

‘Phoenix?’

‘… Okay, I’m up, I’m up,’ he moans in protest, irritably batting away the disruptive hands and their solid grasp on him while struggling to pry his own heavy eyelids open. ‘There’s no need to—’

Whatever’s left of that complaint dies in his mouth unsaid.

Because Edgeworth’s bowed over him, all round-eyed and rosy-cheeked and looking exactly as Phoenix remembers him from their childhood years – god, for real, they’re seriously back to being nine years old right now. Back to where everything had started. Back to when Edgeworth hadn’t been Edgeworth, but just Miles.

Then again, in some odd and indescribable way, he’s technically always been Miles, really. Always Miles through and through, no matter how old they both are, no matter what name actually leaves Phoenix’s lips, no matter how fragile and vulnerable their friendship’s become in the present day.

In all honesty, he’s always going to be Miles at heart.

‘Look at us. We’re both so grubby.’ Miles lets go of Phoenix with a disapproving frown and starts sweeping flecks of dirt off his own elbows, apparently content to let Phoenix sort himself out now that he’s actually awake. ‘I’ll never let you convince me to nap here again, just so you know.’

Phoenix lays a palm flat on the grass and pushes himself upright, mouth gaping open, his head swiveling from one side to the other to fully let his surroundings sink in.

He remembers this place: a hidden glade tucked into the greener part of suburbia, accessible only by squeezing through a dense cluster of trees and climbing over a winding stretch of jagged rocks positioned at the edge of a local park. It’d been relatively close to the Edgeworth residence, and as kids, he and Miles and Larry had often come here when Miles had invited them to stay the night – a special secret between the three of them, shrouded and secluded, where they could all play together without any grown-ups breathing down their necks.

Although as far as he can tell right now, Larry isn’t anywhere to be seen. Which means that this had probably been one of the few nights where Larry hadn’t been able to make it, and only Phoenix alone had slept over.

A feather-light touch at the back of his head snags his attention; he turns to see Miles plucking a tiny blue wildflower out of his hair.

‘Oh, thanks,’ Phoenix says, blinking in wonder.

Miles lifts the flower up to his own eyes with a thoughtful squint, peering at it up close, before reaching over to nonchalantly slide it behind Phoenix’s ear.

‘Let’s head home before it gets dark,’ he says coolly, dusting off his knees and hoisting himself up onto his feet in a single fluid movement, before stretching a hand out to Phoenix with an expectant look. It’s only after a delayed moment, stunned and speechless, that Phoenix slowly takes it and gets up too, giving a brisk nod along the way.

Miles’ palm is snug against his as they start to make their way out.

The Edgeworth household’s also exactly as Phoenix remembers it: simple and tidy and kept to only the straightforward necessities, sprinkled with a generous dash of stray law books somewhat lovingly left on various surfaces here and there. Phoenix can’t even count the number of times that he’d personally sprawled himself over the length of the couch, or perched himself casually at the dining table with his knees tucked up under his chin, or laid himself down on his belly on the floor with his legs swinging behind him – usually while Miles had looked on and shaken his head and sighed without actually being displeased about it.

All in all, Miles had never minded Phoenix making himself right at home. And neither had—

‘—Ah, you’re back. Perfect. Dinner’s almost ready, boys.’

Phoenix’s jaw literally sinks ajar.

Gregory Edgeworth looks as young as he’s always had in Phoenix’s memory. Though that’s not without his share of work-related creases; the lines carved around his eyes and mouth are standard fare for every fellow attorney that Phoenix has ever known, offering a view into a busy life teeming with countless late nights and excruciatingly boring but necessary paperwork and too many dull, mundane trials to slog through for every one that’s actually exhilarating. But even then, the beads of light in his eyes are sun-bright, and his face has a healthy glow to it that speaks volumes of what a comfortable life he’s living together with his son.

He looks young, and he’s never going to look older than this.

‘Your flower’s lovely, Phoenix.’

Phoenix’s eyes widen with surprise. He hadn’t expected to be directly addressed.

‘… I have Miles to thank for that,’ he answers evenly, finally pulling the flower out from behind his ear and pocketing it; he’d almost forgotten that he’d still been wearing it. ‘He was being pretty cheeky, putting it in my hair.’

‘It suits you, though. You like blue,’ Miles points out like he’s leaving no room for argument. It’s kind of amazing, Phoenix thinks, how much that part of him hasn’t changed one bit even all the way to adulthood – right alongside his impeccably proper way of talking, and how much composure he’s always carried himself with in general.

Mr. Edgeworth’s face slackens to a soft, heartfelt expression tinged with visible gladness and ease. ‘That’s nice of you, Miles.’

He almost sounds like he’s happy that Miles even has a friend at all, and judging by Miles’ relatively lonely history, Phoenix doubts that his guess is too farfetched. He swallows hard at the thought.

‘Why don’t you boys get cleaned up?’ Mr. Edgeworth continues, moving to tighten the straps of his apron while leisurely wandering back into the kitchen. ‘Feel free to turn on the TV while you wait for each other to finish with the shower. Curry should be done soon.’

‘Thanks, Mr. Edgeworth.’

‘Okay, Dad.’

Miles flashes Phoenix a tiny smile as they make their way off, which gets Phoenix’s own mouth quirking upward at the corners before he can even fight it.

Dinner’s an incredibly normal affair, embellished only with light conversations about their day – half of which Phoenix hadn’t actually been able to revisit due to the nature of his latest time-leap, resulting in him mostly nodding along and agreeing while Miles regaled his dad with the story instead – and somehow, Miles looks weightless the whole way through. Like there isn’t a single dark speck in his dreams, like there isn’t a single ounce of burden on his shoulders. Though Phoenix knows well enough that the Miles Edgeworth of the present day is really only who he is by losing his dad and surviving every terrible ordeal that he’s had to face throughout his life; there’s no doubt about that. Either way, it’s kind of surreal to be able to see him this loose and carefree again.

He’s still lively through the few hours that he and Phoenix spend watching Signal Samurai episodes back-to-back after dinner, and isn’t anything less than vibrant even while he’s pleading with his dad to let them camp out in the living room for the night.

So they’re promptly set up for that – lazily lounging on the floor with their backs propped up against the couch, cozy blankets draped over their laps, and the TV left on in front of them at low volume – before Mr. Edgeworth gives them his fond goodnights and retires to his room. The last time Phoenix had slept next to Miles had been in Khura’in a lifetime ago, also curled on the floor amid the thick dust and grime of the old Sahdmadhi law office that’d served as a rebel base while they’d been there.

‘Is something wrong? You seem … tense.’

Phoenix can’t help but sigh. He’d been practically clinging to the end of the couch to make sure that there was a respectable distance between them, but he probably should’ve expected Miles to notice that something was out of place right off the bat.

‘Nothing ever gets past you, does it.’

‘Well, I do plan on being a defense attorney, remember.’ Even in the darkness of the room and the too-dim illumination of the TV, Miles’ pointed stare stands out like a neon sign, like an obvious light-hearted jab at Phoenix’s expense. ‘Lawyers should be good at noticing things like this.’

Phoenix can almost hear present-day Miles now, prodding him even further with some painfully clever remark about how he should be lucky that noticing oddities is one of his talents, considering his other shortcomings. Funnily enough, he’d totally welcome a joking insult like that with open arms and no complaints if he could somehow find his way back to his own timeline at all.

‘… Hey, Phoenix?’ Miles continues, quiet and mellow. ‘Do you think I’ll ever be like my dad?’

‘You’re gonna be amazing at everything you do, Miles,’ Phoenix replies, pressing his understated admiration and appreciation into every word. ‘You’ll definitely make your dad proud. This is you we’re talking about.’

It’s strange, really, because there’d been nothing specifically extraordinary about today. Phoenix had thought that this was just a regular sleepover, in more or less the same vein as every other sleepover that they’d used to have together as kids. But now, they’re talking about this, and maybe the fact that it’s so naturally coming as part of an otherwise normal day is what’s catching his attention.

Though he’s not exactly sure he can put his finger on why.

‘… How come you haven’t decided what you want to be yet?’

‘It’s too early to say.’ Phoenix purses his lips in thought; technically speaking, it’s true. ‘Who knows, maybe I’ll end up going to art school or something.’

‘Yeah, I can see you doing that. But … art’s pretty far removed from law, isn’t it? Which means that we might not end up seeing too much of each other when we’re all grown up.’ Miles leans in a little closer at that, studying Phoenix’s face with a hint of uncertainty in his expression. ‘You’ll still stick around even when we’re old and stuff, right?’

It sounds like the last thing he wants is for them to ever drift apart. Like he’s dreading the possibility of it. Like he’s almost afraid of it.

And suddenly, realization collides into Phoenix like breaking dawn, stealing the breath from his lungs.

He’s seized in his tracks, reeling.

Because Miles loves him. Miles has always loved him, even since they were kids and they’d spent most of their time together rambling and raving about their starry-eyed hopes – just like this – without ever actually having been thrown headfirst into the lurking shadows and unforgiving cruelties of the world around them before. Miles has always loved him, even when he’d previously been perfectly happy enough living his life with his dad and his own pastel-colored dreams of becoming an attorney before Phoenix had so much as walked into the picture. Miles has always loved him, even before he’d defended Miles in court, and even before the word had crossed either of their minds as a term that they could consciously apply any meaning to.

Sure, Phoenix had managed to eventually slot all the pieces of the confusing time travel puzzle into a logical enough fit and figured out that every time he’d been thrown further and further into the past, the particular day that he’d woken up in would have something to do with Miles, without fail. But until now, he hadn’t understood why.

It should’ve been obvious that even when Miles had progressively become more detached and guarded as Phoenix had continued to leap back in time – with today being the only exception to that – there’d always been little signs like soft concern, thoughtful attention, and gentle consideration hiding in plain sight, stark and subtle all at once.

He can’t believe it’s taken this long to put two and two together.

‘… Of course. You couldn’t get rid of me if you tried,’ he finally answers shakily, every syllable teetering on a precarious tightrope. ‘Best buddies forever, yeah?’

Miles reaches out with a smile, curling warm fingers around Phoenix’s palm. ‘I won’t accept anything less.’

This is Miles, after all. His best friend in the whole wide world, who’d saved him and defended him before they’d even gotten to know each other properly, who’d inspired him, who’d protected him, who’d earnestly helped him literally every single time he’d asked for it, who’d held his hand through the darkest years of his life and stayed around for all the years afterward.

In all honesty, it doesn’t even matter whether it’s platonic or romantic or familial. Miles loves him.

Miles loves him.

‘… Hey, what’s the matter?’

Of course he’d notice Phoenix getting choked up. Phoenix shudders out a genuine laugh, his eyes burning hot and damp at the edges.

‘Nothing.’ And he means it with every inch, every grain, every thread of his being. ‘I’m just … really happy, that’s all.’

The swelling ache in his heartstrings is more than welcome, for once.

Hands still clasped together, Miles shuffles close enough to lay his head contentedly on Phoenix’s shoulder while practically hugging Phoenix’s arm; Phoenix squeezes Miles’ fingers in response, breathless and overwhelmed.

At the end of the day, he loves Miles too. Always has. Always will.

They fall asleep with serene, steady blood-beats in their chests and the heat of each other’s palms to keep them warm.

Looking back, it’s maybe hard for him to say for sure whether or not he can recall every single detail from that botched spirit channeling session beyond whatever splintered fragments and cracked glass shards his bleary memory can actually stir up. But he knows he’s unlikely to forget most of the mind-blowing parts of it pretty much for the rest of his life.

Like the fact that as soon as the actual channeling had started, not only did Maya’s student not look like herself anymore – but in some surreal, jarring way, her face had turned almost inhuman. Half-blurred and hazy, with every small nook and contour smudged over like she was phasing through space and time at a speed that he couldn’t even begin to comprehend. Her mouth was stretched open in a distorted groan, the hoarse voice both high and low while being neither high nor low all at the same time, and there was something about the noise that clawed at the marrow of Phoenix’s bones, that chilled the blood in Phoenix’s veins.

‘… Get back, Nick,’ Maya said immediately, the words wavering between her teeth like she was scared out of her mind. ‘I’ve gotta start the spirit severing technique—’

The groaning stopped as abruptly, then, as if it’d been quickly torn from the fabric of the air around them; Maya’s student instantly went still, staring, looking somewhat disturbed in the midst of the unsettling silence.

And Phoenix could only helplessly stare back.

Oh, please, an unimpressed voice rang out in his head, needle-sharp and unexpected. I’m no spirit.

That caught both Phoenix and Maya off-guard, freezing them in place. In all honesty, Phoenix might’ve actually jumped, startled out of his wits, if he weren’t so bogged down by a strangely thick, dense fog of drowsiness all of a sudden.

‘Then who are you,’ Maya bit out, slow and cautious. ‘What are you.’

A brief pause settled in the air between the three of them, and Phoenix could only wonder whether or not his decision to consult a spirit medium to glean some extra information for his case was about to turn everything else he’d ever known upside-down.

… Nothing that you’d grasp. No explanation I give would really be in the realm of human understanding, came the resonant and half-disembodied answer after a little while. But it’s strange how people revere me anyway. Or their half-baked concept of what I am, at least.

Maya’s jaw hardened at that. ‘Which is?’

A guardian, I suppose, considering I help keep the rivers flowing and the world turning, and ensure that day bleeds into night and night bleeds into day. I know that some cultures have named me Eon, just to have something to refer to me by. Others call me Phase.

And somehow, somewhere even in the clouded murk of his rapidly declining consciousness, realization clicked in Phoenix’s mind.

Eon. Phase.

He knew well enough by then that all that was needed for a spirit to be successfully channeled was the simple knowledge of their name and face. And it definitely hadn’t been the murder victim, Ian Fayes, that Maya’s student had channeled. No, this was someone or something else entirely – an unfortunate product of the still-developing abilities of a rookie medium, a poor quality photograph of the dead man in question, and a coincidentally similar-sounding name.

Judging by the entity’s unnecessarily pretentious job description from just a few moments ago, as well as the highly specific terminology that it’d openly mentioned as its two names, Phoenix could only really come to the bizarre conclusion that he was straight-up looking at a real, literal demigod or celestial being in front of him, as wildly ridiculous as that sounded. Some incarnation of the ever-moving current of time itself, or whatever.

He’d always been good at putting two and two together to reach some mind-blowing epiphany in the courtroom, but even he could admit that this was on another level completely.

As for you, boy, the out-of-focus, indistinct face didn’t hesitate to turn to him after that, glaring holes into his skull. You had me summoned—

‘Hey, leave Nick alone! This was my fault. No one’s ever channeled anything that wasn’t a spirit using the Kurain channeling technique before, so seriously, no one could’ve expected this to happen. Not even me!’ Maya cut in with outrage, her cheeks visibly pink-flushed even in the dull candlelight. ‘Either way, you’ve gotta go, and I mean right now – you’re gonna make Nick black out if you stay. He doesn’t have any spiritual powers and there’s no way he’d be able to withstand something like you being around him like I probably can.’

Regardless of intention, I’m here. Disrupted from my work. An irritable snarl, uptight and thorny. I’ll leave of my own volition when I’ve dealt with him, and not a moment sooner.

‘Dealt with—? Wait, what do you mean by that?’

This time, though, Maya’s protests went ignored.

You’re distraught, aren’t you. You’re practically dripping with it. The pointed jab came as more of a statement of fact than a question, directed at Phoenix so purposefully that he wondered if he was really that much of an open book. Is that why you accidentally summoned me in place of a dead man – because you got distracted and made a poor judgment call? All because a friend whose emotions you thought you could trust had given you the wrong impression?

That was all it took for everything that he’d worked so hard to not think about all day to come flooding back. The incident that’d stemmed from mutual warm banter, fleetingly discreet touches, telltale lingering looks, and a cozy growing heat that absolutely couldn’t have been mistaken for anything else. Which had all come to a numbing, screeching halt when – out of the blue and contrary to every shared moment in the last few months that’d convinced Phoenix beyond a shadow of a doubt that Miles wanted to be closer with him, that Miles’ feelings were raw and genuine, that their friendship was slowly, finally blooming into something with a completely different weight and depth to it after years of thinking that anything like it was impossible – Miles had basically quailed when Phoenix had taken his hand, and yanked himself away as if Phoenix had burned him.

A watercolored daydream gradually coming to life right in front of Phoenix’s nose for months, only for it all to have been ruthlessly stripped away when Miles seemingly changed his mind and backpedaled out of nowhere.

‘… Miles …’

The tiny damp pinpricks at the corners of his eyes stung.

He wished that Maya wouldn’t look at him like that. Like she badly wanted to help him, and didn’t know how.

Which he probably should’ve expected, given that only a few minutes earlier, he’d told her that nothing had happened – that coming to nothing, and reaching the point of nothing, literally was what’d actually happened – and in hindsight, maybe that sentiment had been a little too generous on his part. After all, he and Miles had somehow achieved the impossible by not only sliding all the way back to square one, but also crossing beyond that into some vague limbo that’d left their friendship hanging and drifting in some weird blank space. With how fast Phoenix had fled the scene that day, hurt and confused, there was no telling when and how the two of them would be able to look each other in the eye again.

Without warning, though, a long-suffering sigh of surrender suddenly sliced across his train of thought, interrupting every tangled knot of worry, every gut-twist of uncertainty.

Aren’t you pitiful. I suppose I could be generous, if you don’t waste what I’m so graciously giving you. And provided you never disturb me again. The offer was barely able to sink in, though, because Phoenix’s eyelids felt weighed down, sagging and heavy to the point where he didn’t think he could keep them open for much longer. They say that time heals all wounds, don’t they? Maybe it could do you one better. Maybe it could help you find the answer you need, too.

‘… The … answer.’ He had no idea what was coming out of his own mouth anymore. Maybe it didn’t matter. ‘I …’

Well, then. Both your past and future’s waiting – and so is he. Run along already. Time is of the essence.

And just like that, he let go, and sank into pitch black sleep.

With a cutting gasp, his eyes fly wide open.

The pain’s only momentary, but fierce. Like being crushed under the weight of falling rubble, like jagged tendrils of electricity shooting up his spine. His body twists in the bed, nerve endings sore and oversensitive, and he unwittingly rolls over a wire-thin outline against his hip. Hissing with agony, he stuffs his hand haphazardly into his pocket and pulls out the offending object: a blue wildflower, somehow still in one piece.

‘Phoenix, Phoenix, oh my god.’

Someone’s clutching his other hand. Which makes sense; the last thing he remembers is falling asleep, hand-in-hand with Miles, at the old Edgeworth house as children.

But the Miles that enters his line of sight when he turns his head is taller, with sharper contours and more angular lines to his jaw and cheekbones. With mildly creased eyes that are still bright and young but are worn just enough to have obviously seen a lot of years, shielded behind elegant silver glass. With broader shoulders, longer arms, leaner fingers.

‘… Miles,’ Phoenix rasps out, the single syllable scraping roughly against the roof of his mouth. He fumbles with the blankets and strains to push himself up to a sitting position, every muscle groaning with complaint along the way.

‘Here,’ Miles cuts in quickly, before Phoenix can say anything else. Distracted by the searing ache in all his bones, he hadn’t even seen where Miles had produced the bottled water from. Still, he’s grateful for it, and even more grateful when Miles frames gentle hands around his fingers to help him take a sip.

Their touch only completely separates once Phoenix has finished, when Miles is screwing the cap back onto the bottle and setting it aside on the nightstand.

With the weird pain now slowly, gradually receding, Phoenix takes a moment to breathe.

Judging by the nearby calendar on the wall, it seems like he’s somehow miraculously in the present day again – specifically, in his very own apartment. His gaze drops to the wildflower in his palm: a literal impossibility. Does this mean that none of it had been a dream?

‘You’re back,’ is all Miles says, the words ringing with immeasurable awe and relief. The answer in a nutshell.

To hell with the incident. Phoenix tosses the flower onto the nightstand too, and opens his arms without a sliver of hesitation.

Within seconds, Miles actually falls into them. He’d been sitting at the edge of the bed right next to where Phoenix’s hip had been when he’d still been lying down; only a slight shift forward was all it’d taken for the two of them to suddenly hold each other, snug and secure, for the first time since they were kids. Miles claws into the fabric of Phoenix’s shirt, and Phoenix reaches up to the nape of Miles’ neck, twining his fingers into the ends of Miles’ hair.

Miles is a little stiff, clearly unused to this kind of thing, but it doesn’t matter. Because he’s hugging Phoenix back, and he’s here. They’re both here.

Phoenix is just burying his face into Miles’ shoulder and weighing the pros and cons of the two of them staying like this pretty much forever, when—

‘—Ahem.’

He almost jumps right out of his skin.

They reluctantly let go of each other, the warm contact lingering just a little longer than necessary as they both pull away, soft and unashamed. In all seriousness, Phoenix can’t believe that he hadn’t noticed that someone else had been there in the room with them the entire time – when he swivels over to look, there’s already a gleeful, knowing smirk waiting for him at the opposite corner of the bed.

‘Maya,’ Phoenix deadpans, resigned.

Maya huffs at that, clearly taking offense. She pushes herself up a little higher from where she’s kneeling on the floor, and casually plants both elbows on the mattress, settling her chin in her palms. ‘What, you greet Edgeworth like you haven’t seen each other in a century and then you greet me like that? Yeah, sorry, that disrespect is gonna cost you ten burgers.’

‘You just want burgers, don’t you.’

‘I sure do. But … I guess I can be generous just this once and drop it to five burgers, since you’ve been out cold for nearly two weeks.’ Maya pulls her phone out of her pocket with a singsong hum, and starts typing something on it. ‘You gave everyone a scare, you know. You should see all the flowers you got – we’ve been piling them all up in the living room. Even people from the Prosecutor’s office came by to visit.’

‘Two … weeks,’ Phoenix mumbles thoughtfully, blinking. It does make sense, considering he’d been traveling back in time for exactly that long. And then, his eyes blow wide open in shock. ‘Oh crap, my case!’

‘All taken care of,’ Miles says, smooth and seamless like it’d required no effort whatsoever. ‘Miss Cykes took on the defense in your stead, and I’d asked Mr. Shields to assist her as her co-counsel.’

‘Really? How’d that go?’

‘Well, it was an extremely difficult case for sure – they’d had just as much trouble with it as you did – but I told them that under no circumstances were they to turn to spirit channeling to dig up information as well, after what’d happened to you. They did manage to secure a not guilty verdict, but only by a paper-thin margin, and also only after they’d subjected themselves to two all-nighters trying to sort everything out. Though not consecutive nights, thankfully.’

Phoenix gives an appreciative whistle at that, sagging back gratefully against his pillow. ‘Damn, I really owe them. Sounds like I’m gonna have to treat them both to dinner once I don’t feel like I’ve been run over by a truck. Hey, how come I’m not in the hospital if I’ve been unconscious for that long?’

He isn’t exactly sure how to specify, without sounding totally out of his mind, that he’s talking about leaving his body here while he’d been traveling through time and occupying younger versions of himself in the process. But he gets his answer anyway.

‘Trucy and I figured that, given your stable condition, you might want to receive care at home and wake up somewhere familiar instead of some cold and clinical hospital room.’ A wary, guarded look bleeds into Miles’ expression. ‘I hope that’s okay.’

‘I mean, sure? As long as I’m not gonna die or anything.’

Miles’ head sinks briefly in an acknowledging nod, before he spills out a long breath through his teeth. For a moment, he’d seemed to have been holding it in, worried and uncertain.

‘You’re not gonna die when you’re getting the best care on Edgeworth’s dollar,’ Maya mock-whispers dramatically, climbing up to actually sit on the bed now and finally putting her phone down; it dawns on Phoenix that she must’ve been letting everyone know that he was now awake. ‘We’ve had one of his personal doctors come by every morning to check your vitals and stuff – and Edgeworth, Trucy, Athena, Pearly and I have been taking turns watching you round-the-clock every minute. But seriously, you didn’t need to be in the hospital at all. You didn’t even need a drip or anything. Your so-called coma was kind of supernatural, so … you were already being kept alive anyway, just not necessarily by human or medical means.’

That gives Phoenix pause. He’d been so caught up in hearing about the consequences of his trip back in time that he’d almost forgotten that there must’ve been some vague handful of events leading up to it that, at this point, he still doesn’t know all the details of.

‘… What happened after I passed out in the channeling chamber?’

‘I grilled that thing – Eon, or Phase, or whatever it calls itself – about what it’d done to you.’ Maya’s tone lowers almost hoarse in her throat, serious and solemn. ‘And it did tell me that it’d sent you back in time to work out some private issues. So yeah, I know all about that. You aren’t going mad or anything. That really happened.’

Phoenix’s eyes subtly flick across to the blue flower on the nightstand. All in all, that alone had been proof enough, but it’s still comforting to hear it said out loud anyway.

‘I kind of lost it when I heard that. Yelled about how messed up and dangerous that was. But the entity told me that it’d sent you to self-contained timelines that would just disintegrate every time you fell asleep at the end of the day, so that way, you had no chance of changing history. Whatever time dimension you were in would just collapse after you were done with it,’ Maya continues, and overwhelming relief floods Phoenix in waves. He’d been taking a lot of care during his time-leaps for sure, but he’s more than aware that the butterfly effect could potentially be a pretty fragile thing that has every chance of being set off by the tiniest hair-trigger. ‘But here’s the best part, right. Seriously, get ready for this one. I asked, wow, is that even possible? And it was so damn offended by me questioning its capabilities that it got mad and threw me back in time too.’

‘Wait, what?’

‘Yeah! Can you believe it? I mean, it was nowhere near as long as your time travel trip, but still. For a whole four hours, I was banished to this particular day back when I was a little kid and I’d gotten into trouble for doodling on one of Aunt Morgan’s scrolls with colored chalk. I was grounded for a few hours that day, so I basically spent all my time in the past reliving that punishment and literally nothing else.’ Maya crosses her arms with enthusiasm and pushes her lips out into an indignant pout, visibly annoyed. ‘I traveled through time, which no human on earth has done other than you, and I spent every minute of it practically jailed in my bedroom because I was grounded. Man, that sucked. I had no idea that Time Incarnate would be so touchy and bad-tempered.’

‘I mean … you gotta admit that’s pretty funny, though,’ Phoenix points out coolly, while waving away her answering glare. ‘At least it seems to have a sense of humor.’

Maya crumples her forehead irritably, ignoring him. ‘Anyway, once I woke up in the channeling chamber four hours later and managed to shake off the apparently excruciating pain of coming back home to the present day, I knew that we really did manage to summon time itself, that it seriously meant business, and that you’d be out cold for a while. I called Edgeworth for help, and here we are.’

Curious and intrigued, Phoenix cocks an eyebrow and turns to look at Miles. ‘You’re taking all of this incredibly well.’

‘Believe me, after knowing you for two and a half decades, nothing fazes me anymore,’ Miles answers with a dreary, full-chested sigh.

All of a sudden, Maya’s phone chimes with a melodic tinkle; she picks it up off the mattress again and studies it with interest, her grouchy mood evidently forgotten. ‘Hey, it’s Trucy. She said that she’s going to come straight home now that you’re awake.’

Phoenix perks up at that, heart leaping in his chest. At this rate, he’s going to hug Trucy so tightly and for so long when he sees her that she’s going to be embarrassed about it forever. ‘Where is she? How’s she doing?’

‘Doing great, really managed to hang in there for the whole two weeks that you were out cold. I sent her off to chill in Kurain Village with Pearly for the weekend so she can have a decent break from watching her old man,’ Maya says with a toothy grin, clambering off the bed before folding herself over to reach for the bag at her feet. ‘Since you’re fine and she’s coming back, it’s probably about time for me to go home. Gotta make sure everybody’s doing okay over there.’

‘Ah – thanks a bunch, Maya. For everything, seriously. How’s your student? Is she alright?’

‘Also doing fine. Pretty rattled and worn out from channeling an actual celestial being, but she’s already back to normal after more than a week of bed rest. That girl’s gonna be one hell of a spirit medium once she gets her powers fully under control.’ Bag securely shouldered, she slips her phone back into her pocket and makes her way toward the door. ‘You rest properly too, Nick. Take it easy. And you boys better make good use of the three or so hours that you’ll have the apartment to yourselves.’

Just like that, Phoenix’s stomach drops.

‘… What’s that face you’re making,’ Maya scoffs from the bedroom doorway, looking thoroughly unimpressed. ‘I squeezed the basic details out of Edgeworth, you know. In my opinion, you’re both idiots.’

‘Didn’t you just say you were leaving,’ Phoenix grumbles, mouth curling with displeasure.

‘Yeah, whatever. Can’t blame me for wanting to see happy endings all around, right? Anyway, see you guys later.’

With that, she saunters out of there, and is soon gone.

Miles lets out a tiny cough into his fist that sounds more like a purposeful distraction than anything; Phoenix shifts uneasily on the bed and swallows, suddenly restless. Honestly, there’s no denying the prickle of anxiousness that’d crept up the back of his neck as soon as Maya had mentioned that they’d be left alone, especially when the exhilarating rush of finding himself back home in the present day has now more or less drained out of his pores, and also considering the fact that they haven’t actually spoken at all since the incident. But seeing the taut, edgy apprehension currently leaking into every line on Miles’ face, all that Phoenix is really left with when the high-strung agitation’s gradually bled away from his muscles is a heavy-hearted exhaustion.

Chief Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth, one of the most brilliant legal minds of the twenty-first century and a practically unbreakable stronghold in even the toughest situations, looks nervous.

It’s strange, how there’s a deeply buried part of Phoenix that already wants to give him comfort and put his worries to rest. Like some organic instinct or natural reflex that’s always pumping through his blood, always simmering under his skin.

But that feeling’s always summed up their friendship, hasn’t it?

The whole reason that Phoenix had been sent into the past in the first place was, as the time entity itself had mentioned, to get the answer he needed. And he’s back home in the present day now because he’s found it: whether as friends or otherwise, Miles loves him without reserve, wholeheartedly and unconditionally. He knows that like he knows the back of his own hand.

Despite that, he still has no idea how to even start to address the elephant in the room.

‘… Hey, Miles—’

‘Phoenix, I—’

It takes every last stitch holding Phoenix together to resist the urge to facepalm. They’re off to a great start already.

At least they’re both okay with using each other’s first names again. Not that Miles seems to have ever stopped to begin with, since they’d started getting into the habit a little more than three weeks ago.

Miles flaps his hand in a vague you go first kind of wave, for which Phoenix is immediately grateful.

‘You’re my best friend,’ Phoenix throws out simply, before he can lose his nerve. ‘Every single day that I spent in the past served to remind me how much you really mean to me. I can’t imagine any situation where that would change.’

It’s hardly enough to cover the entire scope and realm of every thought and feeling that’s overwhelming him right now, but it’s something.

Other than Miles’ breath momentarily faltering, he stays politely quiet and doesn’t react.

‘… Look, I’m sorry I misread you and made you uncomfortable. I made a move because I’ve wanted to for a really long time, and I must’ve gotten it into my head somehow that I finally had a shot because I was sure you’d been giving me signals.’ Phoenix bites down on his tongue, miserable and ashamed. ‘I get it now – I was mistaken.’

Miles shakes his head firmly, eyes steely and resolute. ‘No, you most certainly weren’t mistaken. You didn’t make me uncomfortable, and you weren’t misreading anything. I was intentionally giving you signals – or, at least, I’d stopped caring if you noticed how much I wanted to get close to you.’ A tremulous exhale, and Miles levels his shoulders like he’s bracing himself. ‘… How much I wanted to be with you.’

Whatever Phoenix might’ve been expecting to hear, that definitely hadn’t been it.

He gapes at Miles, slack lips parted, outright thunderstruck and astonished. By now, he’d spent roughly two and a half weeks believing that he’d made an awful misstep, thinking that he must’ve misjudged something somewhere along the way, telling himself that Miles must’ve actually been wanting something a little less serious, convincing himself that he’d read too much into Miles’ otherwise unmistakable behavior and driven him to change his mind about the whole thing completely.

Somehow, it seems, Phoenix had managed to be wrong on all counts.

‘Anyway, I’m the one who should be sorry,’ Miles murmurs, delicate eyebrows slanting with regret. ‘It’s something I’ve wanted for a really long time too, and it seems like I’ve managed to make a mess of it all.’

Generally speaking, Phoenix had thought it was odd. It hadn’t made any sense that Miles was being so forward with him that day – crowding up pretty close to him, giving him heavy-lidded looks, tracing fingertips briefly against his wrist – right up until the moment Phoenix’s feelings had inadvertently started pouring out of his mouth and he’d reached up to take the hand that was already touching his arm. Which, as soon as Miles had yanked himself away in shock, was when everything had fallen apart.

He doesn’t know how Miles had managed to saddle him with more questions than answers just now, but here they are.

‘… How long?’

‘Years. Too long for me to count.’ The answer tumbles out of Miles’ lips without so much as a second thought, like this is something that’s always been knitted into his veins. ‘Longer than I probably even realized.’

‘Me too. But then … I don't understand. Why did you—’

‘—Because I’m a complete imbecile who didn’t think that you could feel the same way. To be frank … I’d become content and comfortable with the idea of getting really close to you without actually crossing any lines or boundaries that you mightn’t want me to cross, and you being fine with me pressing myself right up against the very limits of what you’d allow,’ Miles says, the words quivering partway between caution and remorse. ‘In other words, I’d grown captivated by the idea of being in a relationship with you without actually believing it could ever happen, and proceeded to make do with taking whatever I could get, so to speak.’

There’s something about it that aches in all the gaps between Phoenix’s ribs, really. For Miles to want something so badly that he’d be perfectly willing to settle for half-measures instead of nothing at all, and also for him to have followed this particular path just to explore and let his own feelings loose to begin with.

The last time he’d taken a drastic approach to finding himself, he’d left behind a terrible note and disappeared for almost a year.

Phoenix hadn’t had any idea how grave this situation must’ve been, or how heartbreakingly desperate Miles must’ve felt.

‘… So truth be told, when you crossed the line yourself and actually made a move that night, I panicked and got flustered. I didn’t understand how it could be real – how it was even possible that you’d actually want me too. It caught me off-guard and startled me to the point where I actually lost my bearings and my better judgment right on the spot. So I absolutely didn’t mean to recoil from you, and please believe me when I say that the moment I flinched, I regretted it.’

Never in his wildest dreams had Phoenix imagined that Miles would say this; he pulls a shaky inhale.

But it does make sense, now that he thinks about it. Back when he’d still been stuck in the time travel bubble, a younger Miles had mentioned that his own lack of practice with being close to anyone was a roadblock that’d likely take him a long time to overcome.

He’d definitely made strides in becoming socially comfortable with others over the last few years, as far as Phoenix can tell, but clearly, it didn’t mean that that mental barrier had fully left his system.

‘I immediately wished that time could just take me back a few seconds, you know? So that I could undo how I reacted and not turn into a brainless disaster when I’m taken by surprise and I could reciprocate. I wanted to explain, but then you also panicked, understandably. And because you excused yourself and walked out the door as fast as you did, I had no chance to fix everything right then and there.’

Hearing that, Phoenix doesn’t even know whether to laugh or cry.

Is this what the time entity had been talking about when it’d explicitly mentioned Miles giving Phoenix the wrong impression? He’d thought that it’d specifically meant all the suggestive signals that Miles had been giving him for months. Had the so-called wrong impression actually been referring to Miles’ flinch the entire time?

‘So, if it’s not too late, and if you’re open to it … please give me a chance to try to fix everything now. If you still want me, that is. I mean … I’m well aware of how badly I must’ve hurt you. You must’ve thought that I was playing with your feelings and leading you on for months.’ Holding Phoenix’s steady gaze with his own, Miles lifts his chin and sets his jaw, clearly steeling himself with whatever scraps of courage he can cling to. ‘I know I don’t have the right to ask, but – I’m in love with you, and I want you, and I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make things right.’

A fleeting streak of awe flashes across his expression, as if he can’t believe that he’s just said that out loud. As if just mentioning it means that it’s now been put out into the world, given shape, made tangible and concrete.

It’s enough to leave Phoenix reeling, to take Phoenix’s breath away.

‘… How can I possibly say no to that.’

‘You could.’ Miles’ hand slides across to rigidly clutch at his own elbow: a sight that Phoenix hadn’t expected to see again so soon. ‘You’re well within your rights to, if that’s what you’d prefer.’

‘It’s not,’ Phoenix says with a tender eyeroll. He reaches out to gently pry Miles’ tense-knuckled grip on himself loose, one pliant finger at a time, and Miles actually eases up at his touch, stiff muscles slackening bit by bit. Inch by inch, breath by breath, heavy and honey-slow. ‘Why would I, when I’m in love with you too.’

He then tugs at Miles’ arm to pull him closer while leaning in, and to his complete amazement, Miles doesn’t even hesitate to meet him halfway.

It’s flame-hot and sweet, an eager kiss literally decades in the making, thrillingly earnest and even more incredible than anything Phoenix could hope to imagine. Miles readily opens up under Phoenix’s mouth like he’s been starved for it, like it’s everything he’s ever wanted, catching Phoenix’s voiceless sigh in the parted seam of his lips with his own muted gasps thrumming against Phoenix’s tongue, burning like fever. Feeling unexpectedly bold, Phoenix invitingly shifts backward enough for Miles to more or less fully climb into his lap, before deftly flipping them both over on the bed so that he’s on top with Miles supine underneath him – and Miles arches up into him with a keen noise that’s teetering on the edge of a groan, momentarily snagging Phoenix’s lip between his teeth in approval, so clearly delighted and enthusiastic that every crippling insecurity and hesitant uncertainty and wisp of fear that Phoenix had carried on his shoulders for more than two weeks straight-up dissipates.

Somehow, it’s even more perfect in all its mess and imperfection – a startling reminder of just how real this is, and of the fact that this is actually happening.

‘… Please don’t settle for half-measures again,’ Phoenix murmurs, softly breaking away to nuzzle the delicate nook right under Miles’ earlobe. ‘Not with anything, but especially not with me.’

‘Mmm,’ Miles hums, mellow and pleased, trailing his fingertips over Phoenix’s pulse point with subtle adoration. ‘Tell me about all the wonderful things you got up to with me during your trip back in time, and you’ve got yourself a deal.’

Phoenix knows that if things had turned out differently, his broken heart would’ve eventually mended with time and been okay. They’ve always loved each other in an all-encompassing way, significant and enormous and blood-deep, even as friends. That’s what’d mattered, at the end of the day.

But beyond all of his expectations, things have turned out like this. And in a lot of ways, getting to enrich what they’ve long had is probably the best part of all of it, as far as he’s concerned. Maybe, he thinks, some of the best relationships have come out of falling in love with your best friend.

In a gesture of unmistakable affection, Miles idly reaches for the flower on the nightstand and tucks it behind Phoenix’s ear; Phoenix’s eyes circle out in blatant surprise.

‘What? It suits you,’ Miles says, blunt and straightforward. ‘You like blue.’

Phoenix huffs out a breathy laugh, grazing his thumb over the ridge of Miles’ jaw and threading his fingers through slips of Miles’ hair like he’s been craving to do forever.

‘Never change,’ he grins, sunny and fond, before leaning down to meet Miles in a warm kiss all over again.

He hadn’t really expected for his world to shift like this at thirty-six.

Then again, a lot of it is technically still the same. He still celebrates all his courtroom wins with salty noodles; he still only has one suit that actually fits well; he still can’t work his way around overcomplicated technology to save his life. He still likes leisurely drifting in and out of sleep to the mild heat of the dawn half-light on his skin, and to Trucy cheerfully humming a different Gavinners song in the living room every morning.

The distinctive fragrance of pancakes and syrup being brought into his bedroom, though, is new. Along with the dull thump of a plastic tray and the brighter clinking of cutlery ringing out next to him on the nightstand. As well as the tender, lingering, heartfelt kiss at his lips right after that, accompanied by gentle fingers swiping over his collarbone.

‘Good morning, Phoenix,’ Miles purrs softly against his mouth.

That’s new, too – there’s definitely a lot for him to start getting used to. But everything considered, he does have all the time in the world. He does have time on his side.

‘… Mmm, morning.’

He stirs awake to the rising beat of his own pulse, and a boundless future filling up his whole frame of sight.

Eyes slowly sliding open, he smiles.