Chapter Text
“C’mon Mr. Edgeworth,” Kay wheedled.
“No,” he said, slamming the case file in front of him closed, “I tell you every year that I do not attend Christmas parties.”
“It’s Christmas Eve,” she pointed out, unnecessarily. “Look out there!”
She waved her arm to indicate his office window. It was true, the courthouse across the way was lit up with gaudy, winking lights, and the streets were full of people rushing home or to their last minute shopping. The Los Angeles palm trees swayed under a sky thick with holiday smog.
“Look, I’m only in town for a few days…,” Kay continued. “Nobody is going to be in court tomorrow, or for the rest of the week! What are you going to do cooped up in your office by yourself?”
“There is plenty of work to catch up on,” said Miles, turning a page. “I needn’t remind you of how fast paperwork can pile up.”
He gave her a pointed look over the rims of his glasses, and she flushed at the reference to her recent reprimand from the captain of her squad at Interpol. But, as usual, she shook off his attempt to dissuade her and tried a different tack.
“But all of your friends from the office will be there! You don’t want to miss hanging out with them, do you?”
He hmmphed aloud at that. “Do not worry, I have my fill of ‘hanging out’ with everyone who works in this office, thank you.”
A few peaceful hours alone to focus on his own cases, without Gavin’s latest rock music blaring or swooping birds clutching questions about case precedent in their beaks, sounded like pure bliss.
Kay bit the inside of her cheek, as she often did when she was about to say something he wouldn’t like. “Well, I worry about you all alone at Christmas. Are you sure that you won’t come with me? I know this time of year can be…really hard.”
It would be hard. But not as hard as it used to be. And he’d always been fine, toughing it out on his own.
Kay was giving him an imploring look and Miles almost felt something softening at her expression of concern. He thought that perhaps a halfhearted ‘maybe’ would fend her off for a while, but before he could give in, they were interrupted by a knock at the door.
“Hey!” Phoenix Wright said, charging through without waiting for an answer, eyes on the stack of files in his hand. “Oh, sorry,” he said, startled, on glancing up to see Kay there. “I was sure you’d be here alone, Edgeworth.”
“It’s still unspeakably rude to come bursting in unannounced,” Miles scowled, bad mood restored.
Wright swiped at the back of his neck sheepishly. “Sorry. Kay, how are you? It’s good to see you.”
They hugged, with the easy physical affection that Wright seemed to be able to show everyone around him, except Miles.
“Good to see you too, Mr. Wright! I was just trying to convince him to come with me to the Prosecutors’ office Christmas Party.”
“Oh really?” Phoenix asked, glancing at Miles, eyes twinkling. “That sounds right up his alley! Miles ‘party animal’ Edgeworth, we call him around the courthouse.”
“You’re extremely funny,” said Miles sourly. “Did you bring the discovery I asked for? You could have had it messengered.”
“He doesn’t appreciate my hand delivery,” Phoenix moaned to Kay, passing Miles the files in his hand. “And at 4:30 p.m. on Christmas Eve, no less.”
Kay rolled her eyes. Miles flipped through the files. “Excuse me, Wright, but this is not what I asked for. I requested all of the financial records from 2014-2019.”
“Oh…”
“This is only half of my request,” he told Wright severely. “And it would really be best if I could review all of the records over the holiday.”
“Sure,” Wright said, “Sorry, um. I have this thing with Trucy later but if you really need them, I can get the rest to you tonight.”
“Please do,” said Miles.
Wright stood there, hovering near his desk for another few seconds.
“Is there something else that you need from me?” Miles asked, annoyed. “Because if not, I really do need those records. I have a lot of work to get through.”
“Sure,” said Phoenix. “Sure, yeah. No problem. Um. Merry Christmas, Edgeworth.”
He turned to go, closed the door softly behind him. Kay let out an explosive burst of breath. She was glaring at Miles for some reason.
“You are hopeless!” she said. She got up herself and stomped across the office. “You’re really not coming tonight?”
“I’ve said before, I have no interest in the office holiday party, nor any other holiday festivities of any kind.”
“Well, bah humbug to you too!” she said, and slammed the door behind her.
Miles felt a momentary twinge of guilt, but it was nothing that couldn’t be solved by focusing on the gruesome murder details in front of him. The hours passed by, and the time of the party arrived. Miles glanced at the clock on his desk, and then quickly glanced away.
He felt suddenly, unexpectedly tired. This time of year, sleep often eluded him. And he had been working since early that morning. The sofa in the corner of his office beckoned to him, and he thought perhaps just a few moments of resting his eyes would help to recharge him in time to finish everything for the night.
He laid down on the plush surface of the couch and despite the fluorescent office lights above him, he felt himself drifting inexorably to sleep.
~~~
He woke with a jolt hours later, with no memory of his dreams, but a vague feeling of unease which made him think he’d had half a nightmare. It was dark in the office. The clock on the desk ticked fifteen minutes to midnight.
Cursing himself for falling asleep in such a place, and with so much still to do, Miles hastily turned on his desk lamp, gathered the files on the desk into his organizer, and resolved to finish the rest at home.
The empty cubicles of the Prosecutors’ office were eerie and mazelike in the dark. He hurried out of the office. His car was parked outside, but he thought that before leaving, he ought to finish filing one last thing at the courthouse.
Despite the cheery holiday lights, the dark building across the street was deserted. As Chief Prosecutor, he had the keys to a side door, so he let himself in. The door jammed briefly. In the old fashioned door knocker, he thought for a moment that he saw a hint of movement before realizing it was only his reflection. He made his way into the courthouse. His steps echoed in the silent, cavernous marble foyer.
As he walked crisply across the empty space, he started to hear something that sounded almost like footsteps behind him. He stopped and looked around. The sound stopped too.
Not very logical. You are imagining things, Edgeworth. Seeing things that aren't there.
But as he continued down the corridor to the Prosecutors’ lobby, he heard another strange sound. A rhythmic clanking. Perhaps a radiator left on? But the building was icy cold, so cold in fact that Miles could see his own breath. Strange, for Los Angeles.
He thought he heard the noise behind him again.
“Kay?” he called. “This is a federal building, and breaking in is a felony…”
But part of him knew that it was not Kay. There was a chill creeping up his spine. Something lingering from his half remembered nightmare.
He turned to look behind him again. Nothing was there. Then he turned back around and froze.
What had materialized before him was a ghost. It had to be a ghost, because the man in front of him was dead. Manfred von Karma stood in the empty hallway, for some reason bound in clanking chains that reminded Miles of the handcuffs he had been led away in.
von Karma reached forward, pointing a ghostly finger at Miles.
“My pupil,” he rasped, voice decayed and horrible. “You live now as I lived. A prosecutor who holds his profession more highly than anything.”
“No…” said Miles, feeling all the blood drain from his body. He was lightheaded and felt suddenly on the verge of losing consciousness. “This isn’t possible. You are not real.”
“I am here tonight to warn you,” the pointing ghost rasped, as if it had not heard, “or your fate may be like my own.”
“What does that mean?” Miles demanded.
“Tonight,” the ghost’s voice boomed, suddenly loud, shaking the hall. “Tonight, you will be visited by three ghosts.”
Three ghosts?
Miles felt himself quavering. The ghost before him disappeared. But the hall was still shaking under Miles like the rumblings of an earthquake, and he gripped for the wall, his hand trying to find something solid as he sank down. His heart was pounding so hard and erratically. He saw spots in the corners of his vision, and then his eyes went dark.