Chapter Text
Phoenix Wright had not realized, before everything, that you could be infected by a river. That it could get inside you and drown you slowly on dry land.
Of course he hadn’t known. But now he could feel the water in his lungs.
It had started in February after he’d fallen through Dusky Bridge, sparks of burning wood raining down around him as he plunged into the frigid water below. The river had stolen his breath, then his senses—there was only the cold, and the dark, and the current.
He’d been pulled free. He’d woken up in the hospital with walking pneumonia, but he’d survived. Miraculous, the doctors said. Preposterous, said Edgeworth, but his voice shook on the word. Most unbelievably of all, Edgeworth was there; he’d flown halfway around the world to sit at Phoenix’s bedside. He’d chartered a jet. For Phoenix. Because he cared about Phoenix. Because he wanted to be there.
Phoenix might not know in what capacity he cared, but that didn’t really matter, did it? Edgeworth cared about him—cared enough to fly fourteen hours straight. He cared so much that he took the magatama and Phoenix’s badge and lied in court to defend Iris, all because Phoenix asked him to. Admittedly, he might have done that even if Phoenix wasn’t involved—because Edgeworth cared about Maya, and cared about innocent people, and cared about the truth. But still.
And Phoenix, nearly delirious with fever and affection, thought he was free of the river. He didn’t even notice that it was still inside him, the water running warm and quick and lovely like the promise of a future summer. In the laughing rivulets that filled his chest, it whispered maybe.
Maybe, there could be something here. Between us.
Maybe there already is.
But he should have realized that a person can’t live with a river inside them. Eventually, the current always won.
In April, Edgeworth was in Europe and Phoenix was disbarred, and the whole world caved in so quickly that Phoenix didn’t even realize right away that the river had risen up again and swallowed him whole. Suddenly he had a daughter to take care of, a little life that he was wholly responsible for, and adjusting to that reality took up all of his attention for several blessed weeks. The exhaustion kept him from thinking, kept him numb. Kept him from sitting with the reality that Phoenix Wright, the man he had been, the man he had loved being, was gone forever. It wasn’t just his attorney’s badge that had been taken, or his reputation, or his ability to keep a child sustainably fed.
It was his life.
And so the river rose, and Phoenix felt himself slip beneath the waves. As the water closed over his head, he recognized it—the sensation was the same as sinking into the Eagle River, staring up at a bridge that would not hold his weight. Fear. Regret. Frustration.
Despair.
Ah yes, said something deep inside Phoenix Wright. This is drowning, again. He tried to fight it—tried to swim—but he was so bone-deep tired. The cold of the Eagle River had crept into his heart and settled there, and he couldn’t stop shivering. He tried to focus on simple tasks, on Trucy, on anything—and still his soul was howling, screaming that it was over, over, he’d lost everything and it was entirely his own fault. His life’s purpose, Mia’s legacy, his promise to pursue the truth beside Edgeworth—all gone, ruined, swept away by his own stupidity.
For a month or two he drowned, lost to the churning fury of his own hopelessness, buffeted by the tides of confusion and rage and despair. He was barely aware of himself, barely aware of when he ate or slept or spoke—a ghost of a person, a wraith. He felt, and felt, and felt and there was barely even Phoenix anymore, just a haunted angry thing choking on feelings and moving on instinct. He drowned, and sank deep.
It was Trucy who pulled him out, her eyes huge and shiny with unshed tears, the skin under her eyes dark. She knelt beside the threadbare couch and took his hand, and begged him to get up. Said she’d be a better daughter. Said she’d help more around the apartment. Said she was sorry that she’d made his life harder.
Christ. Phoenix hated Zak Gramarye in that moment. Hated himself even more. And so he’d levered himself upright for the first time in too long, and pulled Trucy into a desperate hug. Babbled apologies. Told her she was the best daughter in the whole world, and none of this was her fault, and that she had helped him so, so much already. Cried into her hair. And then towed her into the kitchen, where he scrambled some eggs and made two mugs of hot chocolate from a can of cocoa powder that had gone dusty with age. Watching her sleep that night, Phoenix realized that drowning wasn’t an option. It just wasn’t.
He couldn’t get rid of the river, and he wasn’t strong enough to fight it. So he chose the only option he had left.
He froze the river, and his heart along with it. He left a small stream flowing, like the release of a dam—just enough, just so that he could still love Trucy. But that was all. All the rest of it—his love, his passion, his drive—they were all tangled up in the river too, along with all the bad things. The things he couldn’t let himself think, couldn’t let himself feel, without sinking. So all of it had to go. Phoenix let the ice creep in and solidify, thick as iron, to keep the parts of himself at bay that wouldn’t help him right now. To kill the feelings that he couldn’t afford.
He also knew that his fragile and desperate coping mechanism would not stand against a concentrated blow. So he did what he had to.
* * * * *
—A long hot night and he woke up covered in sweat, heart pounding, mouth sour—
—He touched his breast, feeling for his badge, but it wasn’t there—
—Why did it hurt?
Why did this hurt so much?—
* * * * *
“You have to tell him!” He could picture Maya’s glare as he shuffled the phone to his other ear, scrubbing at a stubborn patch of burnt tomato sauce on the stove. “This is ridiculous!”
“Maya, I told you. Leave it alone.”
“I can’t, Nick! I understood when you said you needed some time. I understood when you said you weren’t ready to talk about it yet. I understood when you said you were too busy, but that you’d do it soon. I’ve let you feed me excuses for months because I thought you’d come around on your own, but enough is enough!”
Phoenix grimaced, drying his hands on the threadbare dishrag. “They’re not excuses, Maya. Every one of those things was—is—true! I’ll get around to it. Just not yet.”
“This is maybe the stupidest thing you’ve ever done,” Maya sniped. “He’s your friend. Allegedly. Because refusing to tell him about something this important isn’t a very friendly thing to do. And I know you’re not ghosting him the way he did to you.” Her tone on that last line was complicated; Phoenix suspected it was some combination of it would serve him right and that would be a very bad indication of my idiot friend’s mental health.
“No,” Phoenix admitted. “I’m not.”
“Well, fine! What do you talk about, then? Have you just been lying to him all this time?!”
“I haven’t lied,” Phoenix groused. “I told him that I’m busy. That I don’t have time to talk these days. None of that is a lie. And anyway, he’s in Europe, so it’s not like he cares what I’m doing.”
“That’s still lying by omission!” Maya argued back. “Does he even know you have a kid?”
“No!” Phoenix nearly dropped the phone, overcome by a sudden overwhelming wave of nerves. “No, shit no. And you’re not going to tell him!”
“Why?!” Maya was nearly shouting; Phoenix held the phone away from his ear. “Nick, this isn’t healthy! I’m worried about you—and so is Pearls! Are you just going to keep your oldest friend locked out of your life forever? You need him, because gods know I haven’t been able to make any progress with you lately!”
“I’ve told you, Maya, I’m fine,” Phoenix swallowed down a spike of anger, hot and biting. “I’m fine, and I’ve been fine, and I’m done with this conversation. Drop it. I’ll talk to Edgeworth when I’m ready, and you’re going to stay out of it because I’m a grown adult who can deal with my own shit. Okay?”
“Not okay! Nick—”
“Goodbye, Maya!” And Phoenix hung up on her. He felt like a scumbag doing it. Maya clearly thought so too, because she immediately texted him a string of indignant emojis. Phoenix silenced his phone and sighed, adding one more apology to his growing mental tally.
But he knew that keeping Edgeworth at arm’s length was the key to his sanity, right now.
The first reason for his silence was that Edgeworth was too smart, too perceptive. He would see what Phoenix had done. He would drag the truth out of him. And Phoenix couldn’t tell him the truth; couldn’t risk pulling Edgeworth down into the miserable freezing depths where Phoenix himself was trapped. He wouldn’t let that happen.
So Edgeworth could not be allowed to notice. He couldn’t know about the disbarment, or Trucy, or any of it, because he would fly back to L.A. and try to be a hero again and Phoenix knew he did not have the power to stop what would happen next.
No. He couldn’t tell Edgeworth. Not until it was too late for him to interfere, too late for him to be hurt.
The second reason…well. Phoenix pictured those sharp grey eyes, which had always seen his faults so clearly. Imagined telling him I’m sorry I fell so far. I was stupid. I’ve always been stupid.
I lost my chance to be your partner. I lost my chance to stand across from you in pursuit of justice.
I think I lost my chance to love you.
Because of course, every iteration of Phoenix Wright—scrawny boy, naïve student, defense attorney, and disgrace—loved Miles Edgeworth. He’d known that for years without ever really needing to put a name to it. He’d steered his life to intersect with Edgeworth’s and had been content to drift in that current for a while, sure that things would work out given time. He hadn’t wanted to push, to force anything—hadn’t wanted to risk losing him if he didn’t feel the same way. Phoenix thought he had the luxury of being patient.
But he’d been stupid, again. Because as it turned out, he didn’t have time. He’d let Edgeworth fly back to Europe in February with no more than a lingering hug, content to wait, again, for the man to come back—
—And then he’d gotten disbarred and gained a daughter and a mysterious enemy and a million new worries. And that was the second reason Edgeworth couldn’t know. Because Phoenix had built the ice inside him, and it worked, he was functioning—but it was a fragile, terrible thing. And Edgeworth could break it. Phoenix knew he could break it.
He would break it, looking for those answers. And Phoenix—
He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t do that to Trucy, not again. He needed the damn ice, just as much as he needed Edgeworth to stay away for his own good.
So he’d started turning down the man’s occasional calls with texts that said he was too busy. Kept his responses brief, unsuspicious but uninviting. Forced himself not to react as the calls dwindled across long months, then finally stopped. Because as long as Edgeworth didn’t know, Phoenix could pretend there was a world where they were still friends at the end of all this. That possibility wouldn’t survive contact with the truth.
So no, Maya. I won’t be telling him anytime soon.
* * * * *
—Cleaning out his office, couldn’t look at Charley
He’d let Mia down
Let everyone down
Guess he’d never read those law books, after all—
—Feeling for his badge—stop it, stop, it’s not there—
—Wine helped, just a little—just to dull it—not too much
Not too much, but still—
* * * * *
“C’mon, Nicky, you have to tell him!” Larry waved his pint for emphasis, and Phoenix flinched backwards as beer sloshed over the rim, protecting his own half-empty glass. The other man, oblivious as ever, didn’t seem to notice. “All I’m saying is—”
“Butt out, Larry,” Phoenix warned him, voice grim. He should have known better than to accept his least-discerning friend’s choice of venue. The bar was loud, and the lights were flashing, and Phoenix was quickly developing an impressive headache that had nothing to do with the subpar beer. “Or I’m going back home to my daughter. Where I’d rather be, by the way.”
“Nick! You don’t mean that!” Larry’s woeful expression was masterful, but Phoenix was immune to it by now.
“I do. Trucy doesn’t keep me up past ten and pester me about things that aren’t her business.”
“You sound like an old man when you talk like that!” Larry bawled.
“I am an old man. We’re old men. I should be in bed.”
“We’re not even thirty!” Larry slung his arm around Phoenix’s back. “Come on, Nicky, live a little! I haven’t seen you in weeks!”
“Yeah, that happens when people have kids.”
“Stop worrying about Trucy!” Larry huffed, exasperated. “I know that’s why you’re really complaining.” He poked at Phoenix’s chest. “She’s having a blast with Maya and Pearly! You don’t need to, like, hover.”
Phoenix groaned, dropping his face into his hands so he could massage his temples. “It’s that obvious?”
“No,” Larry informed him smugly. “I’m just very percep—perkept—pers—good at noticing. It’s my artistic soul.”
“Okay, you win.” Phoenix sighed. “You’re right, she’s fine, I’ll stop worrying so much. But I am still tired, and old, and this bar is shit.”
“Yeah.” The skinny man grinned. “I was hoping to see my new girlfriend Lolanda tonight, but I guess her shift hasn’t started yet.”
“Your new—nevermind.” Phoenix rolled his eyes. “Well, next time I get to pick the place.”
“Sure. And Edgey can come with us.”
“Edge—What? No!” Phoenix smacked his hand onto the table, old muscle memory flaring up.
“Yes!” Larry slammed his empty glass onto the table, equally firm. “Yes, Nick! Tell Edgeworth!”
“I said I’m not talking about this tonight, Larry! That was the deal!”
“I’m changing the deal!” yowled Larry. “You’re being a butthead, Nick!”
“I’m being a—”
“Yes! I’m tired of keeping secrets!” The scruffy man glared at him. “I’m tired of being in the middle! I want to hang out like we used to! I want to talk with you—with both of you!”
“How much do you even talk to Edgeworth?” Phoenix demanded. “He’s barely ever around, and I know he doesn’t respond to the group chat.”
“So? Sure he’s in Europe a lot doing important prosecutor things—but then he comes back and we all have fun together! You were the one who always insisted that the old Edgey was still in there somewhere, when he was off being evil and scary. And you were right, and things were good, and now you’ve cut him off and you won’t even tell me why! Are you mad at him or something? Just tell him and have a fight about it or whatever, and then we can all go back to being friends again!”
Phoenix massaged the bridge of his nose. Of course Larry just wanted the group back together. And as…simple…as his friend might be, he did seem legitimately hurt, and that wasn’t fair.
Well, a lot of things weren’t fair right now. “Larry,” he said slowly, choosing his words carefully. “I’m not mad at Edgeworth. I just…don’t want to talk to him right now. And I don’t want to talk about him, and I really, really don’t want you to talk to him about me. Okay?”
“But why?” Larry’s eyes were huge. “Nick, I don’t know what this is about—but you know Edgey won’t, like, hate you or anything, right? He’s a good friend.”
“Larry—”
“Look, he’s—he’s friends with me, and I’m a fuck-up.” Larry looked away, growing uncharacteristically somber. “You’re not a fuck-up, Nick, even if you feel like it now. And even if you are—he’ll still be your friend.”
Phoenix felt like he’d taken a punch to the chest. “Shit, Larry,” he managed eventually. “Shit, Larry, I—”
“Yeah.” Larry smiled at him, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I just—I care about you both, yeah? And I miss what we had. And you—you’re not looking so good these days, Nick.”
Phoenix couldn’t respond. What was there to say?
“I just think…it would be good if you guys figured things out,” Larry finished. “So, do that, maybe? Please?” He reached out and grabbed Phoenix’s half-finished beer, downing it in one swig. Phoenix watched him, transfixed, like a man witnessing a car accident. Larry wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve and turned, hand raised. “Hey! Hey Lolanda!” With that, he disappeared into the crowd. In the crush of bodies, Phoenix couldn’t tell if he’d actually spotted someone or not—but clearly, their attempt at a ‘boys’ night’ was over. He sighed, shrugged on his coat, and dropped a few bills onto the table. It would be a long bike ride home, and he had a daughter who had probably stayed up too late waiting for a good-night kiss.
* * * * *
—Touched his breast, over his heart, but it wasn’t there—
—Daddy, were you crying?
No baby, go back to bed.—
—Walking up the courthouse steps, sheer routine, he wasn’t supposed to be here—
—Rubbing the fabric on his chest; playing with the string of his hoodie
Feeling for that smooth hard cold shape
It wasn’t there, of course it wasn’t there
Stop it, Phoenix, there’s nothing there!
Shoved his hands in his pockets to quell the impulse—
—Daddy, can you tuck me in? I had a nightmare.
Yeah baby. Yeah. Come here.—
—A phone call, ignored. It was fine. It was fine.
—A little more wine, when Trucy went to sleep. Not too much. Just—
—A voice in his dreams, it sounded like Mia
Woke up crying, wiped his tears away; Trucy needed breakfast—
—Texts from Maya, but he just couldn’t—
—Woke up in a sweat—
* * * * *
“Hey, pal!”
Phoenix winced. He hadn’t meant to run into Gumshoe today, but the detective’s booming, friendly voice was unmistakable. He turned slowly, a box of instant mashed potatoes in his hand. “Hey, Gumshoe. How’ve you been?” The detective loomed in the narrow aisle, beaming, his body almost blocking the smaller form of a brown-haired woman behind him. “…And hello, Maggey.”
The woman beamed. “Mr. Wright! You remember me!”
“Of course,” Phoenix couldn’t help the rueful smile that crossed his face. “It’s—good to see you both.” At least ‘good’ is one of my feelings right now, so it’s not completely a lie.
“It’s good to see you too, pal!” Gumshoe reached out to clap him on the shoulder, nearly sending Phoenix staggering. He’d forgotten how…enthusiastic the detective could be. “Maggey and I were just doing a little shopping!”
“What a coincidence,” Phoenix informed him dully. “Me too.”
“That’s good!” More beaming. Phoenix was starting to get suspicious. “So you’re—you’re doing good, pal?”
“Uh-huh.” Phoenix could see both of them studying him, taking in the worn grey hoodie, grey sweatpants, and off-brand sandals. With socks, naturally, because it was chilly out. Chilly for LA, anyway, and I’ve been cold enough this year to last me a lifetime. He was fairly certain there was tomato sauce on his pants, and he knew there was glitter in his hair. Trucy had been feeling particularly artistic that day. He looked like a disaster, and he knew it. “Doing just fine, thanks.”
“You…sure, pal?”
“Gumshoe.” Phoenix dropped the potatoes into his cart and leaned on the handlebars. “I’m still me, ok? I’m fine. I’m just busy and tired. I think all single parents of small children look like this at some point.”
The couple exchanged a dubious look. Phoenix sighed. “How have you two been?”
“We’ve been—well, things are good!” Maggey smiled shyly. “I’ve only gotten fired from one job this year, and Richard actually got a raise at work!”
Phoenix bit his tongue on his immediate question—who?—when he remembered that Gumshoe did in fact have a real first name. “That’s great!” he told her, genuinely happy for them both. Just because his life had gone to shit didn’t mean he couldn’t recognize two people who deserved a break, for once.
“Yeah!” Gumshoe, still smiling hugely, tugged Maggey against his side in a quick hug. She squeaked as she was enveloped by the flap of his overcoat. “And it’ll be our first Christmas together, Maggey and me! We’re gonna do it right. Got a tree and everything!”
“Good for you two,” said Phoenix, recalling the holiday-free state of his apartment. Shit, better add ‘get a tree’ to the list. It would be Trucy’s first Christmas with him, and she deserved some festive spirit. “I’m really happy for you both.”
“We’re having a…a little party on Christmas Eve,” Maggey said hesitantly. “For friends. If you’d like to come.”
“Your daughter, too!” Gumshoe added brightly, completely oblivious to how Phoenix had stiffened at the suggestion. “It’ll be fun! There’ll be plenty of little kids around for her to play with—Maggey’s got nieces!”
“Uh, thanks, guys,” Phoenix scrubbed a hand through his hair. “I appreciate the invite. Really I do. But I think I’m…busy, that day.”
Gumshoe’s face fell, while Maggey’s nose wrinkled with poorly-concealed skepticism. “Come on, pal!” the burly detective begged. “It’ll be fun! All the boys miss seeing you around the precinct.”
I bet they do, Phoenix thought bitterly. “I’ll let you know,” he said, pivoting his cart slowly backwards. “But I probably can’t make it.”
A sly gleam had kindled in Maggey’s eye, and Phoenix felt distinctly wary at the sight of it. “Oh, that’s too bad,” she sighed. “Mr. Edgeworth will be so disappointed!”
Several different thoughts shot through Phoenix at the same time, and he settled on a rude one before his brain could stop his mouth. “Edgeworth doesn’t come to parties,” he said flatly. “Especially not holiday parties.”
“Oh, but we asked him specially!’ Maggey squeezed her hands together in front of her like an excited child. “Richard thinks so highly of him, you know. And of course, he saved me this spring when I was accused of murder again!”
“Again?” Phoenix stared at her, aghast. This woman was a menace. “How? When?”
“In March!” Maggey chirped, waving her hand dismissively. “I was working as a security guard at his office building, and this terrible sporty prosecutor tried to frame me! But Mr. Edgeworth figured everything out, just like you did for me before. It was amazing to watch him work—he was just as brilliant as Richard always says!” She beamed at the man beside her. “So, we asked, and he said he’d consider it!”
Ah. “That’s the same thing I said,” Phoenix reminded her. “And it’s probably a polite ‘no.’ Not because he doesn’t like you guys or anything!” he added hastily, at the sight of Gumshoe’s trembling lip. “But I told you, Christmas parties are…really not his thing.”
“I don’t know.” Maggey tipped her head, one finger pressed against her lips. “I have a good feeling about it—I think he’ll come!”
“So you should come too!” Gumshoe finished for her. “And then you guys can hang out again! Like old times!”
Phoenix gave them both a deadpan stare.
“Yeah, pal! You seem like—it’s been kinda rough, you know?” Gumshoe tried for ‘encouraging smile’ and got stuck on ‘rictus grin.’ “And Mr. Edgeworth said he hadn’t talked to you in a while! He said you, uh…” The detective’s voice faded slightly at Phoenix’s expression, but then he rallied. “He said you hadn’t been returning his calls.”
“That’s—” Phoenix wasn’t sure how he felt about this development. Since when does Edgeworth tell Gumshoe anything? But then again, they’d always been close, and the detective had been the first to know that Edgeworth wasn’t really dead back during that miserable, dark year. Maybe this was typical for them. Maybe Edgeworth was perfectly open with people who wasn’t Phoenix. Or maybe, his issues with Phoenix were just not that important to him—a slight annoyance, to be mentioned in passing over tea. He wasn’t sure which option he hated more.
“—That’s not anybody’s business,” he finished grimly, as Gumshoe and Maggey blinked at him. “It’s—whatever. I’m not—say hi to Edgeworth, if he comes.” Phoenix turned and started pushing his cart out of the aisle. “I don’t think I can make it. Have a nice holiday.”
“Pal—!”
“Mr. Wright—!”
But he didn’t turn around, and they didn’t follow him. He finished his shopping in silence, and had to apologize to Trucy when he got home for forgetting her marshmallow Snack-oo cereal. It had too much sugar anyway.
* * * * *
—Another nightmare, he had so many of them these days—
—Daddy, are you okay?
Yeah, sweetie, just a bad dream. That’s all.
I have bad dreams sometimes too, Daddy.
I know, honey. I know—
—Feeling for—no, there’s nothing there!
Nothing there, no, hands in pockets—
—Nerves tickling down his spine, someone watching from the crowd—
You too, Truce? Yeah, I thought so—
—Texts from Maya, one-word answers—she’d forgive him—
—Wine before bed, throat rough and burning
Hollows under his eyes, skin pale, unshaven
Did it matter? Who’d even see him?
Don’t need to pretend, no point anymore—
—There’s nothing there, don’t bother—
* * * * *
“So, there’s no news?”
“I did not say that, you fool.” The voice on the other end of the line was clipped, icy. “…But no. My investigations have not yielded results, yet. You would be foolish to presume that they will not.”
“I don’t.” Phoenix let gratitude bleed into his own voice. “I know that if there’s anything to find, you’ll find it. Thanks.”
“I’m not doing this for you, Phoenix Wright.”
“I know.” Who she was doing it for remained a mystery. Maya, maybe? She hadn’t even met Trucy in person, so Phoenix wasn’t sure her altruism was directed towards his daughter.
But ultimately, it didn’t matter. Franziska von Karma was not a mystery he had the emotional bandwidth to solve at this point in his life, but she was using her resources to do something he could not—and she was discreet enough that he could trust her.
In more ways than one. She had been annoyed when he’d asked her not to tell Edgeworth what she was doing, or why, although of course she couldn’t admit it directly.
“You utterly foolish fool. Why would you assume that I would tell my ridiculous little brother any such thing?”
“My mistake,” Phoenix had deadpanned. “I should have realized.”
“Yes, your foolish mistake indeed! My business is my own. Miles Edgeworth, foolish as he is, at least has the sense to know that I do not share my personal affairs with him!”
“Is this a personal affair, then?”
“Fool!” The line went dead as Franziska ended the call. Phoenix knew that he probably should have kept his mouth shut, and texted her:
“sorry :(
for real, i appreciate it
thx”
Franziska had replied a few hours later with a grammatically-perfect response, stating that she would be in touch, and that he should think carefully about any future “foolishly juvenile” attempts at levity.
So now here they were, on the latest of their sporadic phone calls. “Well, thanks for the update,” Phoenix said again, his mind drifting to the question of what to feed Trucy for lunch. They’d had grilled cheese for three meals straight, he should probably negotiate some vegetables into the kid.
“Yes.” Franziska didn’t hang up, which was surprising. She wasn’t typically one to linger. Phoenix knew better than to hang up on her. He waited.
“How is—Trucy?” Franziska asked finally. “Are you providing appropriately for her needs?”
Phoenix laughed softly into the phone. “I’m sure trying. She’s doing pretty good, I think. The semester just ended and she’s on winter break now. We’re gonna go find a tree for the apartment tomorrow before my shift.”
“That is—nice? Good.” Awkwardness suffused Franziska’s voice. “I am glad she is receiving adequate care.”
“Like I said, I’m trying.”
“And…are you…Tsk.” A frustrated noise. Phoenix waited, unsure where this was going. “That is, have you found an…appropriate individual in whom to confide your situation?”
“I’m fine, Franziska!” Phoenix couldn’t believe she was actually asking that, and he needed to make her stop right away. Nothing good could come of that conversation. “You don’t need to—to be my therapist, god! I’m not asking that of you.”
“Not me, you fool!” The younger woman’s voice was outraged. Phoenix winced as the crack of a whip sounded in his ear. “Foolishly foolish imbecile! I should have you disbarred if you weren’t already!” Ouch. “I meant, obviously, that as a caretaker for your daughter, you are required to be mentally and emotionally sound! It is your obligation to ensure that you are available to her in all ways. I am merely ensuring your child’s well-being!”
“Ouch! Franziska, stop with the whip, it’s loud!” Phoenix held the phone at arm’s length until the noise subsided. “I’m sorry, ok? Point taken!”
“So, you are speaking to someone? Socially, if not professionally?”
“I’m—I have friends!” Phoenix wasn’t sure if he should be touched or insulted. “Of course I’m talking to them!”
“Do not lie to me, Phoenix Wright.” Franziska’s voice dripped with suspicion. “I am fully aware of the type of characters you call ‘friends.’ With the exception of Miss Fey, they are all fools.”
“Well, then, I’m talking to Maya, okay?” She didn’t need to know that he hadn’t, in fact, been talking to Maya recently because Maya wouldn’t stop trying to make him talk to Edgeworth.
There was a long silence on the other end of the phone. Then, “I have the capability to check if what you are saying is true.”
“Franziska,” Phoenix pinched the bridge of his nose, wincing. “Look, I promise I’m doing fine. Things have been busy, but I’m handling it. Okay?”
“Are you? Or are you, as I suspect, distancing yourself from those who wish to help you, including my foolish brother? Don’t think your particular request escaped my attention!”
“I don’t need Edgeworth’s help!” Phoenix snapped into the phone. “I told you I’m handling it!”
“Fool!” Franziska spat, equally furious. “You are allowing your personal issues to interfere with your ability to raise your daughter!”
“Now that’s too far!” Phoenix resisted the urge to chuck the phone across the room. He needed Franziska, he needed her, but this— “I’m doing a damn sight better than her last father!”
“And is that good enough?” Instead of a scathing retort, the voice in his ear was cold and quiet, iron-cast. “Listen to me, Phoenix Wright. That child has already lost one father. You are all that she has, now. Her life will be shaped by you, for worse or for better. Do you understand? Do you truly comprehend the task you have undertaken?”
“I—” Phoenix fought to breathe past the sudden tightness in his chest. Since when did Franziska von Karma get to make him feel completely emotionally inadequate? Was he that pathetic, these days? “Yes, damn it—yes. I know you don’t believe me, but I do. I’m taking this more seriously than I’ve ever taken anything in my life, and that’s why I’m doing…everything I’m doing. Okay? I love that fucking kid. I love her so much that it hurts. Every day I’m terrified I’m going to screw this up! That I’m going to screw her up. Is that what you want to hear?”
“You fool.” The voice on the other end of the line was tired, almost defeated. “No, it is not. But it’s a start.”
“Okay, then.” Phoenix stared at the wall, numb. “Anything else?”
“Take care, Phoenix Wright.”
* * * * *
—There’s nothing there
—Don’t bother
—Cheap wine and nightmares
—Don’t bother
—There’s Trucy, and there’s nothing else
Don’t bother—
* * * * *
“No, Maya, I can’t come out to Kurain right now—”
“No, Larry, not this weekend—”
“No thanks, Gumshoe, I’m alright—”
“I’m fine.”
“She’s okay.”
“We’re alright.”
“No.”
* * * * *
Phoenix stared at the gathering of people in front of him, mouth agape. “What are you all doing here?” he managed finally, steam puffing out with every word. He had been planning to take Trucy to the downtown holiday fair for the afternoon, and they were just leaving the apartment when he’d gotten a text from Maya saying she was in the area and insisting they meet up. But he hadn’t expected this.
Trucy, clinging stickily to his hand, waved her oversized candy cane at the nearest familiar faces. “Hi Auntie Maya! Hi Pearly!” The two mediums waved back—Pearl’s face innocent, Maya’s devious.
“Hiya Trucy!” Maya chirped. “You remember Larry and Detective Gumshoe, right?”
“Yeah!” Trucy beamed up at the two men. Larry was wearing an absolutely atrocious Christmas sweater adorned with blinking lights. Gumshoe looked the same as he always did in his huge overcoat, but he was smiling around a very chunky pink-and-orange scarf that looked suspiciously homemade. “Hiya, Uncle Larry! Uncle Gumshoe! Do you want to see my newest trick?”
Phoenix was busy staring, gobsmacked, at the last member of the party. “Franziska?! What are you—why are you—?”
“I have come to enjoy the winter festival with the esteemed Maya Fey,” the tiny woman sniffed. “Obviously.” Her only concession to the holiday season was a small jeweled poinsettia pin at her throat, which held her immaculately-starched ruffle in place. A few tiny but expensive-looking shopping bags dangled from her arm. “And to deliver something to you which is long overdue.”
“Deliver—”
“Hello, Wright.” That voice…deep and mellow, familiar as his own heartbeat. Wonderful as the sun. Terrifying. Phoenix spun around.
“Edgeworth?!”
The prosecutor stood there, holding two cardboard trays full of—evidently—everyone’s coffee orders. He was dressed in his usual burgundy suit under a flattering fawn overcoat, his hands and nose slightly red from the cold. The wind had blown a few strands of his hair out of place. His eyes were wide, his expression searching—and Phoenix felt the ice inside him twist. He turned away, reaching for Trucy’s arm.
“I—I have to go—!”
But Trucy was several feet away with Larry and Gumshoe, giggling as she pulled a rainbow scarf out of the detective’s ear. And suddenly Maya was there in front of him, hands on her hips and immovable as granite. “Nick, don’t make me channel Mia. I’ll do it if I have to.”
“I’m being ambushed!” Phoenix protested. “Maya, what is this?”
“An intervention!” the medium replied flatly. “Enough is enough. We’ve all been where you are, Nick. And you gotta let us help you.”
“I don’t need—” Phoenix found himself being towed away from the group and into the sheltered doorway of a nearby shop. It wasn’t private, but it was at least a little separated from the others. He forced himself to draw a breath, to relax. Trucy was here, and Trucy was perceptive. He didn’t need her picking up on things he didn’t feel like explaining later. “Look, Maya. I need you to believe me, but we can’t do this in public. We can’t do this at all. Okay? If you’ve ever trusted me, I need you to trust me on this. Please.”
Maya’s dark eyes were deep and sad. “I’m so sorry, Nick,” she told him quietly, “But I’m not going to let you leverage my love for you as a way to keep hurting yourself. Nope. You’ll thank me later.” She shook her head, lowering her voice even further. “And it doesn’t have to be public, okay? We’ve already—we’ve told Edgeworth. About…everything.”
Well, that’s that, then. Phoenix tipped his head back, feeling the cold air on his face as the last of the false, fragile hope within him ebbed. “Okay,” he said, and heard how hollow his voice sounded.
“We’re going to take Trucy, okay?” Maya continued, watching him carefully. “We’ll have a fun day. Franzy’s already said we can all stay over at her hotel suite tonight. It’ll be great—like a big sleepover.”
“Okay.” Phoenix didn’t protest. What was the point? He’d been outmaneuvered.
“Nick?”
“Yeah?”
“I love you, Nick.”
“Love you too, Maya.” A little betrayal wouldn’t change that. He might not have it in him to feel things, anymore, except for Trucy—but he’d always love Maya. Even if it meant he lost Edgeworth. Even then.
She gave him a quick hug, squeezing him just a little bit too tight. Pressed her face into his chest as if she was afraid he’d float away. “I’m really sorry,” she murmured into his sweatshirt. “Please don’t be mad at me?”
“I’m not mad,” he said, stroking her hair. It was the truth. ‘Mad’ was an emotion that was slightly beyond him, at this point. He just felt tired. “But you can’t be mad at me either when this doesn’t work. Whatever ‘this’ is.”
She shifted in his arms, one eye sparkling up at him. “I think it’ll work. Edgeworth pisses you off more than anybody. If anyone can reach you, it’s him.”
“Oh?” Phoenix felt bemused. “You just…wanted somebody to piss me off? I don’t think you needed to drag Edgeworth back from Europe just for that.”
Maya stepped back, sobering. “No, Nick. None of the rest of us have been able to get through to you. It had to be him. We’re out of ideas, otherwise.”
“Ideas? Maya…” Phoenix massaged his temples. “It’s not your responsibility to take care of me, or try to ‘fix’ me. I’m really sick of everyone assuming that I can’t, like, handle a setback. So you don’t have to do…anything. You didn’t have to do this.”
“Damn it, Nick! Yes we do!” Maya hissed, shoving at his chest. “You’re icing us out! All of us—your friends! You’re scaring us! You’re scaring me!”
“Shh! Not in front of Trucy—!”
“It’s now or never, Nick.” Maya’s eyes were furiously bright. For a moment Phoenix almost thought he saw another figure twinned in the air behind her, like an echo of the woman in front of him. “You need to figure out whatever this is, because we love you, and because your daughter needs you. You’ve kept Edgeworth as far away as possible because you know he’ll get the truth out of you. Well, we brought you Edgeworth. Now go have a fight with him because I’m pretty sure he wants to kill you and then pick your bones apart like a vulture!”
Dazed, Phoenix allowed Maya to tow him back to the group, where the man in question was bending awkwardly down to select a card from the spread that Trucy presented to him. Seeing the two of them standing together made Phoenix’s traitor heart do a backflip, and that made him feel queasy. He couldn’t do this.
He didn’t have a choice, apparently.
“Wright,” said Edgeworth again as Phoenix stepped forward, as though he hadn’t just spent the past few minutes being ignored. “I have been briefed on your…situation.”
“Okay,” said Phoenix, wondering if this was what an out-of-body experience felt like. “Edgeworth, this is Trucy. Trucy, say hi to Prosecutor Edgeworth.”
“Hi Mr. Edgeworth!” His child, adorable and apparently guileless (only apparently—Phoenix knew better) grinned up at the prosecutor. He blinked at her and held out a stiff hand. Trucy took it, then waved her cape with a flourish and left Edgeworth holding a bouquet of daisies instead. His face went slack with disbelief.
“My goodness,” he managed finally. “That’s quite the talent you have, Miss Trucy.”
Trucy giggled and bowed, sweeping her cape around her. “Thank you! Can I call you Uncle Edgeworth?”
The prosecutor’s eyes flitted to Phoenix’s, then away. “Only if your father agrees.”
“You can call him whatever you like,” Phoenix told her, scooping her up to tickle her. Trucy screamed with laughter and squirmed in his arms. “Think of the most ridiculous name you can, and call him that. Deal?”
“Deal!” the little girl shrieked, delighted.
“Good!” Phoenix set her down and re-adjusted her hat. “Truce, you’re going to spend the day with Auntie Maya and Pearls, okay? Won’t that be fun?”
Trucy’s blue eyes shone with excitement. “Really?”
“Yup! They twisted my arm.”
“Oh no! That sounds serious.” Trucy put a finger to her chin, thinking. “How bad was it, on a scale from sticky paper to bear trap?”
“Oh, full bear trap,” Phoenix told her solemnly. “There was no escaping this one.”
“Too bad!” Trucy considered. “How many burgers do you think Aunt Maya owes me, to make up for it?”
“Owes you?” Phoenix teased. “But I was the wronged party! Doesn’t she owe me burgers?”
“No,” the little girl informed him. “I’m your daughter, so my interests are imputed to you. If Maya buys me burgers, it’s the same as if she buys you burgers.”
“Where did you—ugh.” Phoenix wasn’t sure if he should be proud or exasperated. He settled on both. “Which law book is it this time?”
“Government ethics,” Trucy told him proudly.
“‘Imputed’ is a big word,” Phoenix conceded. “Here you go.” He produced a dollar, which vanished immediately into Trucy’s cape. “I guess you can settle my bill with Maya. She owes you one burger.”
“Three.”
“One, with a milkshake and fries,” Phoenix compromised. “Easy on the ketchup, and be good for Auntie Maya.”
“I will be mostly good,” Trucy informed him. “But I might misbehave a teeny bit because she tricked you.”
“Good girl,” Phoenix pulled her into a tight hug. He knew she would be perfectly safe with Maya—he knew that—but his heart still twisted as he released her. “Stick right with the group, okay? You can call me if you need anything. I’ll check on you before bed.”
“Thanks, Daddy!” Trucy skipped over to stand with Maya and Pearls. Phoenix straightened, trying not to groan as he did so. God, he was getting old.
“Here,” he slipped his credit card to Maya. “Make sure she eats something green today too.” The medium grinned at him.
“Burgers on you?”
“When are they not?” he groused, but his heart wasn’t in it. He could feel Edgeworth’s stare on the back of his neck. “Call me if anything comes up. Anything. She’s got a phone of her own, too. Don’t let her out of your sight, she’s fast. Bedtime at 8:30, she can read quietly until 9. No magic props allowed in bed. She has to brush her teeth and wash her face, but you can skip the shower tonight. She has a sleepover bag at my apartment with clean pajamas, you can stop by and get it. Her pediatrician—”
“Nick, she’ll be fine!” Maya spun him around and pushed him towards Edgeworth. “We’ll all have fun together! Say bye to Nick, everybody!” A chorus of “Bye Daddy!” “Bye, Mr. Nick!” “Bye, Nicky!” “Who’s Nick?” (from Gumshoe) and “No,” (from Franziska) echoed back, and the whole motley group shuffled toward the holiday market, Trucy swinging from the arms of the two men.
And then suddenly it was quiet, and the street was mostly empty, and it was just him and Edgeworth. His favorite person, and the one he most wished was not here right now. Phoenix shuffled his feet, unable to meet the other man’s eyes.
“Uh…hi.”
“Hello,” said Edgeworth stiffly. “You look…well?”
Phoenix barked out a laugh, surprising both of them. “That’s a damn lie and you know it!”
“Ah, well, I…well.” Edgeworth clutched at the sleeve of his upper arm, clearly uncomfortable. Then, annoyed— “What do you expect me to say, Wright? You look like you haven’t slept in a month! You are unshaven, unkempt—and there is confetti in your hair!”
“Oh, yeah? Trucy was trying out a new trick—it got a little out of hand.” Phoenix tilted his head and scrubbed vigorously at his hair, sending bits of brightly-colored paper flying. “Unshaven and unslept, though—you got me there. How awful is it?” Edgeworth turned a little pink.
“It’s—unexpected.” He looked away. “This is all…unexpected.”
“Yeah.” Phoenix stuffed his hands in his pockets, pretending interest in the roof of a nearby building. “Sorry I didn’t tell you. You know.”
“Yes.” Stiff, formal. “I imagine you have been…busy.”
“Yeah. Busy.” Phoenix took a deep breath, fortifying the ice inside him. He needed to get this interaction over with, and he needed to keep Edgeworth from digging too deep. He could do this. “Look—do you wanna get some food? It feels weird standing in the street like this.”
“That would be…yes. That is a good idea.”
“Great, I know this noodle stand—”
Edgeworth interrupted, his tone apologetic but firm. “Wright, I have been on a plane for the better part of a day. I would like a sit-down meal at an establishment that uses real silverware. Do you object?”
“You buying?”
“Naturally.”
“Then lead on.”