Chapter Text
There was a time when Miles Edgeworth believed in people.
A time when his greatest joy was to watch his father work. When he’d wanted to be a defense attorney just like he was and wanted to help people. A time when he’d stood in front of a class of people yelling for another boy’s head and demanded they provide proof of his thievery.
Miles Edgeworth used to believe that people were good and worth fighting for. But all that changed the day his world came literally crashing down around him and he’d awoken in a hospital bed with no father and nightmares that would haunt him for years. He’d watched as the only other man who could have killed him went home free while his father remained in the ground.
And then Manfred von Karma had taken him in. Any hope that Miles had left in humanity was thoroughly crushed by that man. People were liars. People were cheats. People would kill and steal and do whatever they had to to get what they wanted. People were never, ever to be trusted. All you could do as a prosecutor was get them all declared guilty. They’d done something to deserve it. Everyone had done something.
(He knew that was true. He awoke every night to the sound of screams and a gun falling from his shaking hands and a horrible sinking knowledge that he’d done something unforgivable and it wasn’t Yogi’s fault at all.)
Miles didn’t have friends. The closest things he had were that bumbling detective and his younger-older sister. But Franziska was fighting her own battles and Gumshoe… well, everyone had done something. Or would do something. Gumshoe would turn on him, it was only a matter of time. Letting people into his life was too dangerous and he was perfectly content to live it out alone. Alone was safe.
(Except it wasn’t. Not really. Not when he couldn’t sleep because of the screams in his head and the weight of the gun as it left his hands. But even then, it was safe. Who would ever want to be around him, if they knew the truth? He was better off without people and they were better off without him. Someone would just get hurt.)
And then one person he thought he’d never see again barged back into his life in a fury of desperation. Phoenix Wright. The boy he’d defended all those years ago. The boy he’d believed in.
Miles hated Phoenix from the moment he set eyes on him. He was so… unchanged. So bright-eyed and desperate and full of hope. He fought for Maya with a fury that could only be based in belief and Miles wanted to scream. How could he be so blind ? What gave Phoenix the right to be so beautifully, infuriatingly hopeful? What gave him the right to trust like he did in a girl that he barely knew? Maya Fey had killed her sister. She was easily capable of it.
(Nevermind that she was a teenager. He’d done worse at far younger.)
And then it was Phoenix himself on the defendant’s chair and he was still fighting with that same fury and in that moment all Miles wanted was to watch him burn. It wasn’t fair that he still got to be bright-eyed eager Phoenix Wright while his world had crumpled around him and being around him stirred something in his chest that he kept trying to shove further and further down because he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t let himself feel. He didn’t care about Phoenix Wright. He couldn’t afford that.
After all, Phoenix was a person. And people were never to be trusted. If he was to get involved, one of them would just end up hurt. Unfortunately for him, Phoenix seemed to have other ideas. He barged his way into Miles’ life again, taking on a hopeless case defending the actor of the Steel Samurai. Once again, his sheer belief was infuriating. How could he believe that this man was innocent, despite all the evidence stacked against him?
This time, Phoenix got to him. Something about that look in his eyes when he thought he was about to lose it all broke something inside of Miles’ heart and all the feelings he’d been ignoring came flooding back. Before he even realized what he was doing, he was helping Phoenix Wright get a man declared innocent.
The feelings were unnecessary, he told himself after it was all over. He didn’t need them. He didn’t need this unease and uncertainty and something else he couldn’t put a name to. He didn’t need the way his heart thumped whenever Phoenix lifted his finger and the way something sparked in his chest that he hadn’t felt in a long, long time. This would only end in trouble. It would be better for both of them if they’d never met. He never wanted to lay eyes on him again.
It was a cold night when his world came crashing down around him again. His memories of the event were blurry, but he could never forget the heavy feeling of the gun in his hands after the body had fallen into the water. The memories that had washed over him like the waves on the lake and the horrible ice-water grip of fear. This was impossible. Even though this time it wasn’t his fault, he’d face the sentence. No one could possibly prove his innocence, not with this amount of evidence.
(Maybe it was what he deserved. Maybe his past was finally catching up with him.)
Unfortunately, he’d left Phoenix Wright out of his calculations. Damn him. The man was hopeful to the end, determined to get him out of this because of one favor that Miles couldn’t believe he’d even remembered. No matter how many times he pushed him away, Phoenix Wright was still there. With his stubborn fire and desperate bluffing and belief that Miles was innocent, despite everything that the evidence said.
(He was a fool, to borrow his sister’s word. He didn’t know the truth. He wouldn’t be here, fighting this hard for him, if he did.)
And then… he did. Miles broke and told him everything and Phoenix knew the truth. He knew exactly what he’d done and he still believed in him. In his innocence. Miles didn’t know whether he wanted to hug him or punch him for being so beautifully, blindingly naive. How could he still believe in him after all this? How?
He was found innocent. Thanks to Phoenix Wright. The man had struggled and fought and bluffed and clawed tooth and nail until he was declared innocent. Maya had helped, even getting herself declared in contempt of court and thrown in jail again to save him. Even after what he’d done to her, she’d done that for him. He didn’t know what to do with these people. How, after all of this, could they still believe?
The Skye case left his head spinning, the long-ignored feelings burying him in a tidal wave. He’d submitted forged evidence. He hadn’t checked carefully enough. He’d sent an innocent man to his grave. And Phoenix still had that look in his eyes whenever he looked at him. The one that said he believed in him and was worried about him and that was all there was he was imagining the hint of something more in his voice there was nothing he didn’t care for Phoenix Wright he didn’t he didn’t he-
He left a note and fled. He couldn’t take this anymore.
Phoenix Wright looked like shit the next time he laid eyes on him. He was exhausted, disheveled, and didn’t look like he’d slept in days. A small child trembled beside him and Maya was nowhere in sight. Worry twisted at his heart until he was able to speak to him after the trial and the truth came pouring out.
Maya had been kidnapped. Maya was in danger. And Phoenix had to acquit a man who was most definitely guilty in order to save her. For a brief, desperate moment Miles wished that he could take him in his arms and hold him close and promise that he’d do anything to find her and that it’d be okay and he could trust him and it was going to be okay , Phoenix. He’d fix this. He contented himself with sending a search party for Maya and throwing his whole heart and soul into fighting for her. For them. If Phoenix was to lose that bright, desperate fire… he wasn’t sure what he’d do. He’d hurt him enough when he’d left. It was time to make amends and save his best friend.
That was the first time he’d truly seen Phoenix break and his heart ached for him. He had to go through the same questioning that he’d gone through before and it was all he could do not to promise he’d be there for him through all of it. Phoenix didn’t want him there and he shouldn’t make promises he couldn’t keep.
Maya was safe. Maya was free. They’d pulled it off by the skin of their teeth, dancing a careful dance of objections and shouting to keep the judge and de Killer’s suspicions away from them while they worked together to save her. And it worked, just barely. Miles felt something dangerously like tears prickling at his eyelids as he watched their reunion. To his surprised, they all insisted that he come to dinner with them. They wanted him there. They cared about him.
Phoenix was so full of life and joy at dinner and Miles knew. Even now, even after everything he’d been through, he still believed. He still believed in people. He still believed in him. It wasn’t something he was sure he could understand.
“I grew to trust him,” he said to Franziska, staring at her in the midst of the crowded airport.
She scoffed at the idea, as he knew she would. “You trusted your enemy?”
The realization had been a shock to him, too. He trusted them. He trusted Maya, with her bright eyes and infectious laughter and teasing smile and overconfident smirk. He trusted Gumshoe, for all his bumbling. He’d stuck with him through thick and thin and had given up everything to try and save Maya. And he trusted Phoenix Wright, whose hope stuck out like a beacon in the bleak world Miles Edgeworth had found himself in. He wasn’t sure that he’d ever be able to trust anyone again, but Phoenix had barged back into his life and fought for him with the same determination that he always fought with in court. And Miles… Miles found that it made him smile like nothing else could.
His heart ached for Franziska as she left, promising that she wouldn’t remain in his shadow any longer. She would have to go through it, too. All the heartache and loneliness and pain that he’d been through. He wished that he could help her, but he saw it in her eyes that she wasn’t ready to let him in. That was alright. When she was ready, he would be there for her. Until then, he wouldn’t push it.
As he went back to his room, Miles felt a warmth that he hadn’t felt in a very, very long time. He still didn’t trust people as a whole. He’d seen too much for that. But maybe… just maybe… there were a few that could be counted on.
Maybe Phoenix was right after all.