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Everyone was in shock the day they heard Myers Corporation's infamous lawyer died.
Krueger was in shock the day he heard Vincent Edgeworth died.
It was a strange concept to grasp. Where once there'd been a rival, suddenly there was nothing but the flickering memories and the broken glass of car windows, reflecting empty space infinitely. It was a horrid reminder of how sudden these things occurred.
Stranded in G2, far from his old college and the empire of Myers, Krueger had only gotten skinny details about whatever had been occurring with cyborgs and missing people and whatever other drama G4 had dragged in like a dead mouse. But he knew enough about the lawsuit- he knew most of all about the infamous lawyer that aided the company in clearing their name; that one with the funny last name and quick tongue. He could win any argument, any debate, that's what the newspapers said. And Albert knew the name of that lawyer well. It was hardly a surprise to him that Myers Corporation won their innocence in court so easily. That was why Vincent was his self-proclaimed rival; someone whose brilliant mind matched Albert's own, which was quite a rarity to him.
But when that'd all been ripped away- when newspapers came flying in about the famous lawyer of the G4 Cyborg Incident being mangled by glass and metal, Albert could only sit in denial for a while. He'd called the phone number he knew from college, the one that still had worked in the past. And he'd been met with only silence, an automated message telling him the number he called couldn't answer the phone- and then, after about a week or two, that the number didn't exist. This person does not exist. And then Albert, for all his stubbornness, had broken apart, let the little fissures in his wall of denial turn into great cracks and shatter his mind. The shards had been sharp and slicing at first, but of course, as grief does, they dulled over time.
After all, he had a therapy company to run. He had plans and goals in his mind. To chase the ghost of a dead man was hardly a thought he could entertain for long in his busy schedule. He'd hardly known Vincent outside of their rivalry and occasional spiteful calls after college. This was not his time to grieve; he'd leave that to that pink-haired companion who'd always followed Vincent around- who now had nobody to follow around. The denial turned to acceptance in a month or so. The shock, the numbness, it was still present. But he could shoulder it, could cleverly avoid the memories of the stoic ravenette that had once been his equal, now reduced to a carcass in the ground somewhere.
Human technology was such an odd thing, when you thought about it. It had so many dangers, opened up so many new ways for one to face injury and death. Albert thought about this often- not a single one of mankind's beloved machinery came without consequences. Even the technology he used for these "dream therapy" meetings he had to run- they usually came with consequences, heavy ones. He watched time after time as patients were contorted into dream eaters, or sentenced to a very brief existence as helpless cattle feed. It became standard, an unbroken cycle.
And then there was Taylor Lee.
A more interesting creature than the sea of other mindless cattle, the one who seemed to resist his trials and games and every tactic he had in the book to sentence his patients to a rather horrible fate. Rather, instead, he inadvertently befriended them. Over talk of his long-dead rival, no less.
They inspected the scrawled drawing on the back of the ink blot paper. Albert was still internally hitting himself for not checking which ink blots he'd put in this stack- was scolding himself for even drawing on the back of one of these, exposing his past to the person before him much more openly than he'd preferred. He'd drawn the sketch late at night, during one of his bouts of thinking about the deceased lawyer. This happened sometimes- thinking too long about the incident that had taken from him the only intellectual equal he knew. He'd sometimes take it off his mind through his other hobbies. Drawing was a first, though he'd certainly drawn other things before. So late at night, he hadn't even realized what he was drawing on.
And now here he was, talking for the first time ever about the accident with someone else- with a patient that he was supposed to have dead by now, no less. Time's up for this session, his mind muttered routinely as he glanced at his watch. But he couldn't bring himself to cut off this discussion now. For once, he'd found a patient worthy of sparing, perhaps.
Especially after the thing Taylor said next, effortlessly capturing his mind in a net.
"Why don't you call him?"
The suggestion almost made him cackle witheringly. Did they not think he'd tried that? So many times, trying to call and see if maybe, just maybe, there'd be a phantom on the other end of the line, who'd greet him in that sickeningly deep yet familiar voice. He sighed. No, of course Taylor didn't know that. They hadn't even recognized the name of Vincent Edgeworth as the lawyer who saved Myers Corporation, the lawyer who'd been supposedly killed by the very company he'd helped. Of course they knew nothing about how the man was long dead, haunting the world through the memories of the few he'd ever bothered to interact with in his solitary existence.
But he couldn't shut down someone staring at him so intensely. Albert was a bit of a wimp that way.
Instead, he shrugged. Waving his hand dismissively. "Hm. Maybe. I'll try that." He muttered. There was truth in his words- some part of his brain was wondering if maybe, after this long time of not calling, there'd be someone on the other end. The specific someone that Krueger had to admit he did indeed miss.
They proceeded through the last bit of the session rather normally- up until the end, where for the first time in his career, he said goodbye to a patient without finality in his words. Instead of staring into horrified eyes, he stared at what he now considered a new acquaintance. And then he woke Taylor up with a clap of his hands, and then woke up himself. His office outside the dream world was more dull, his desk littered with the technology needed to carry out these dreamwalking sessions. Most prominently was the phone on his desk, it's shiny red surface reflecting his miserable face. Taylor's words still rang in his mind, echoing through the cave systems of his hidden grieving. There was a momentary struggle in his head. He knew what the result of this call would be- but he wanted to humor Taylor, and maybe he was humoring himself, too.
After a moment more of consideration, he shrugs, picks up the phone. Dials the number he knows well from years of pestering his old rival with prank calls, before there was suddenly no more rival to pester. He's ready to hear the ringing suddenly cut out, listen yet again to the message that the number isn't available.
He thinks that for all of about three seconds, and then the most impossibly familiar voice clears it's throat from the other line.
"Edgeworth Manor, who is this?" says Vincent Edgeworth himself, and Albert suddenly cannot find words to greet the dead man on the phone.
There's a long silence. Never, in all his time of wishing and hoping that he'd be answered, did Albert ever fully expect for this to happen. he goes to pinch himself, then pauses. He's walked in enough dreams to know this is not one. After almost a year of the world believing he's dead, of Albert believing he's dead, here stands the recently deceased bastard, sounding as healthy as ever.
"... Hello?" Comes the voice again, and that's definitely him. There's a strange faint growling noise to the back of his voice, as if something metal was vibrating in his throat. It's a strange sound, but despite that, Albert can tell fully that that is sure as hell Vincent Edgeworth, alive and well.
He holds back tears, takes a deep breath. It takes a lot to ready himself, steady his soul and calm his racing thoughts. But he finally finds words. One, singular word, one that he considered forbidden to say outside of his mind. "... Vincent?" He chokes out the name of his old rival through a tightening throat.
"Krueger?" The voice on the other end sounds almost as bewildered as he does. I'm not the one who's been pronounced dead for months, some part of Albert's mind growls with bitter humor.
"You're- you're alive." Krueger can't stop the words from coming out, stuttered as they may be. In the silence that follows, he knows he shouldn't have said anything, though he can't imagine why. Surely Vincent gets calls like this often? Perhaps he's merely annoyed from being asked it so much.
But instead, there's a murmur from the other side. "... You... could say that." It's more sorrowful and full of meaning that anything else Vincent has ever said around Albert, and that realization alone is terrifying in it's own way.
Another long silence. He can hear the faint hiss of the feedback on the other side of the phone line, letting him know they're still both connected. They've never been quiet this long while in the same vicinity. Every moment of empty space between them was filled with debates, snide remarks and jabs at each other's honor. But now, the quiet of the phone call is suited to them too, eerie as it may be. Neither side can pick out the right words.
It is not awkward. But it is uncanny, and it speaks volumes as to the hurt that's happened to the man that was once Vincent Edgeworth.
Albert doesn't need to know what happened. He knows enough- from the news, from this simple conversation alone. It was never the words they focused on in their academic debating- it was the feeling behind them, the slightest shift of tone betraying the knowledge they both held, the spite they threw between each other. Here, they used it for less competitive reasons, an easy habit to return to. Krueger missed this sort of conversation. Among so many mediocre people in the world, here was one whom Albert could banter with at the same level of intelligence as himself. He missed that familiar disturbance in the sameness of human intellect. He missed Vincent.
"I must say, as annoying as you are alive, it is much more annoying when you are dead." Albert says lightly. The shift in his tone clears the fog surrounding both their heads. He hears Vincent shift, accompanied by a noise like metal lightly scraping against metal, but muffled as though shifting beneath something. The noises are strange, but he doesn't care enough to inquire about them. They're likely a faulty A/C, or perhaps Victor's taken up metalworking. After the metal noises fade, though, there's a noise like something hollow being filled. Laughter, strange as it sounds; like it's echoing or scraping against something. Vincent is laughing, although it sounds like an exhausted noise.
"Albert Krueger? Missing me? Truly something's gone awry with the world in my absence." The remark is snide and teasing, and it's a welcome reminder that the old Vincent is still there underneath.
"Ha! That vulgar Blake fellow is really rubbing off on you. I didn't think you even knew what sarcasm meant!" Albert shoots back naturally. This is a pattern he knows, a dance rhythm he's memorized.
"I didn't think you knew his name! Looks like there really is room in your brain for something other than fish."
"Fish are highly fascinating, thank you, and if you'd just let me finish telling you about them someday, maybe you'd actually learn that-" He stops himself, grinning lightly. Vincent's uncanny ability to get Albert on a rant was the one thing he couldn't match- but it was useless to use if he didn't give in. "Actually, nevermind, you wouldn't have room in your pea brain to even remember a thing I'd say!"
They went back and forth a few more times. This was something they hadn't done in years, and it was a welcome familiarity. It was something Krueger thought he'd never do again, and yet here he was, trading comebacks with a dead man. He missed this. He truly did. The cackling faded, leaving a more content silence in the wake of their exchange than the one before. But then, the silence went on again.
"Maybe... maybe I did miss you." Albert admitted, a bit begrudgingly. HIs voice wobbles, just slightly.
A pause. Another shuffle from Vincent's end. Metal scraped metal again- this time much fainter, just a small movement. When Vincent speaks again, there's a sentimental warmth that is unexpected of the man, but makes Albert smile.
"Hm. I suppose I missed you too, Albert."