Chapter Text
“This looks like the right place.”
Miles quietly muttered to himself as he confirmed the address sent to him on his phone. Before him stood a small, worn-down burger joint tucked away on a corner street. The exterior had seen better days, with faded signage and peeling paint hinting at years of neglect. Through the smudged windows, Edgeworth could just make out a lone employee manning the register and a sparse scattering of customers occupying the dimly lit interior. It wasn’t exactly inviting, but it matched the description he’d been given.
Typically, a burger joint wasn’t the kind of place you’d expect to find Miles Edgeworth. It wasn’t as though he’d never stepped foot in one before, but his preferences leaned toward far more refined dining experiences. Fine wine, exquisite plating, and impeccable service were much more his style. Yet here he was, standing outside a modest, run-down eatery with little thought given to ambiance or sophistication.
The reason for his visit? A meeting with a friend. After wrapping up a grueling international smuggling case—a case that had pushed him to his limits both mentally and physically—Edgeworth wasn’t feeling particularly picky. In fact, between the exhaustion and the faint throbbing from what he suspected might be a mild concussion (a long story he’d rather not recount), the prospect of a simple burger and fries seemed oddly appealing.
Checking his phone for what was probably the third time, irritation started to slowly rise.
Of course he is running late…
Letting out a weary sigh, he slipped one hand into the pocket of his trench coat while the other moved to his temple, fingers pressing gently in an attempt to ease the dull ache radiating through his skull. The sharp sting that followed made him wince, a quiet hiss escaping his lips.
There was no denying it now—he definitely had a concussion. The persistent, throbbing pain was hard to ignore, but he pushed the thought aside. It was yet another issue to address later, when he wasn’t standing on a street corner, waiting for someone who couldn’t seem to manage punctuality.
“Hey! Sorry I’m late.”
The familiar voice cut through the dull, aching hum in Miles’ ears, drawing his attention upward. He blinked, his sharp gray eyes focusing on the figure standing before him. It was none other than Phoenix Wright. Or at least he thought it was him.
Wright was an image burned into his mind: the confident defense attorney clad in his signature blue suit, his annoyingly pristine badge proudly pinned to his chest as if it were some kind of trophy. Miles had often found that badge—and the smug satisfaction with which Wright flashed it—mildly infuriating. It was almost surprising the man hadn’t lost it with how often he flaunted it.
Phoenix wore his trademark smile—the same one that had once driven Miles to frustration during their courtroom battles. But this time, there was something different about it. Beneath the grin, Miles could see the unmistakable signs of exhaustion in his eyes, a weariness that hadn't been there before.
A patch of stubble was beginning to appear on Phoenix's chin—something Miles hadn’t even realized he was capable of growing, and his attire… Well, it was far cry from the typical polished look he would see in the courtroom.
His clothing was a stark departure from the professional suits. Gone was the sharp, formal look of a defense attorney; in its place was something far more relaxed. Phoenix wore a bright blue beanie, its soft fabric covering his normally spiky hair—another feature that had once irritated Miles to no end. But time had softened his irritation, and now the messy hair was just part of who Phoenix was.
The beanie was paired with a dark, grayish-black zip-up jacket, the zipper pulled all the way up to his neck, leaving only the faintest glimpse of a white T-shirt beneath. The ensemble was far from the polished, professional attire he was used to seeing, and for a moment, it left Miles with the distinct feeling that Phoenix was not the person he remembered—not just physically, but in a way that made him seem, somehow, more human.
“I didn’t keep you waiting too long, did I?” Phoenix asked, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. The guilty smile tugging at his lips was enough to make it clear that he already damn well knew the answer.
It took Edgeworth a minute to respond, after being entirely thrown off by the man standing before him. “Only 15 minutes...” Miles muttered, lowering his gaze as his trademark scowl settled across his features—a look Phoenix was all too familiar with.
“Sorry,” Phoenix replied, his tone sheepish. “I wanted to get here sooner, but, uh... something urgent came up.” He avoided Miles’ sharp glare, the weight of it enough to make him shift awkwardly. Phoenix stepped toward the door of the burger joint, quickly pulling it open, as if the small act of courtesy might soften the tension hanging in the air.
“Food on me tonight hm? Too make up for me being late.” Phoenix hummed in a simple ‘how about that?’ tone as if it was a simple gesture to make up for his mistake. Miles raised a brow but kept his thoughts to himself. While he doubted that tonight’s bill—however modest or extravagant—would make much of a dent in Mile’s wallet, he couldn’t help but appreciate the sentiment. At least Wright was trying to make amends.
With a simple nod, Miles stepped into the diminutive establishment—if one could even call it a restaurant. He paused just inside the door, taking a moment to assess his surroundings.
The place was modest and quiet, the atmosphere punctuated only by the occasional sizzling sounds of a grill from the back and the hushed murmurs of a few scattered patrons. It didn’t escape his notice that several of them were sneaking curious glances in his direction. Miles ignored them, as he often did with unwanted attention, and focused instead on the unassuming ambiance.
“Not that I particularly mind, Wright.” There was a brief pause as Edgeworth squinted at the flickering light in the corner of the room; something he was sure the manager had yet to tend to (and gods was it making his headache worse). “But is there a reason you chose to meet here? There was a restaurant just down the street from here that seemed perfectly fine and more…” His voice faltered as his eyes fell on the overflowing trash cans near the window. His lips pressed into a thin line before he finished his thought, his tone dry and laced with faint disdain. “...Inviting.”
“What’s not inviting about this place? It’s quiet, you don’t need to make reservations, and—” Phoenix’s voice brightened as he gestured toward the menu above the cash register, its glow casting an unflattering yellow hue across the room, “—there’s a list of options to choose from!”
Miles followed his gesture reluctantly, squinting at the illuminated menu. His vision blurred slightly, though he couldn’t determine whether it was due to the persistent ringing in his head or the ridiculously small font.
One item in particular caught his attention: “The Hamburglar—It’s so good it will steal your heart!” The overly enthusiastic tagline made his brow furrow, and he shifted his gaze back to Phoenix.
“How... enticing,” he replied dryly, his tone dripping with sarcasm as a glimmer of irritation flickered in his stormy gray eyes.
Phoenix stifled a soft laugh, a half-smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Don’t knock it till you try it,” he quipped before casually making his way to the front register. Reaching into his left pocket, he retrieved a card and began placing an order—of what Miles neither knew nor particularly cared.
Taking the opportunity to distance himself from the flickering lights that continued to test his patience, Edgeworth scanned the room for a more tolerable seating arrangement. After a brief search, he settled on a corner booth, mercifully out of range of the offending bulbs. With a quiet sigh, he slid into the seat, grateful for even a small reprieve from his worsening headache.
Eventually, Wright returned to the booth, carrying a stack of napkins along with a plastic fork and knife. He set the napkins in the center of the table and placed the utensils neatly in front of the prosecutor. Edgeworth arched a curious eyebrow, his expression a mixture of mild surprise and skepticism.
Wright simply offered a knowing smile in response. “C’mon, I know you won’t eat the burger with your hands,” he said, his tone light and teasing.
He slid into the seat across from Edgeworth, casually draping an arm over the back of the booth with the ease of someone who clearly frequented the establishment. The gesture exuded a relaxed familiarity, one that struck Edgeworth as both peculiar and oddly fitting for Wright.
“Although,” Phoenix continued with a chuckle, “I still can’t, for the life of me, understand it.”
Edgeworth huffed softly under his breath, a slightly cunning grin tugging at the corners of his lips. “Those unfamiliar with proper etiquette naturally wouldn’t understand,” he replied smoothly, his tone laced with understated banter.
Phoenix rolled his eyes, though a grin soon followed. “Pretty sure there isn’t a proper way to eat a burger, Miles,” he countered, his voice playful. “But hey, to each their own, I guess.”
“To avoid grease staining your clothes, I assure you, Wright, there is a proper way,” Miles retorted with a matter-of-fact tone, as though he were delivering an indisputable verdict.
Phoenix, however, merely responded with another exaggerated roll of his eyes, his grin widening. “Leave it to you to turn burgers into a debate about etiquette,” he teased.
Miles hummed softly, a slightly pleased smirk spreading across his face. To his surprise, he hadn’t realized how much he missed their unnecessary banter.
“I apologize for the delay in reaching out,” he began, his voice slipping back into its smooth, monotone cadence—eerily reminiscent of his courtroom demeanor. “Unfortunately, I had pressing business to attend to the moment I returned to America.”
Phoenix straightened up slightly, his expression softening with a touch of concern. “Yeah, Ema mentioned a bit about it to me,” he said, his tone lighter but laced with sympathy. “Sounds like you’ve had one hell of a week.”
Miles nodded curtly, the subtle gesture affirming the statement without elaboration. Although the mention of Ema surprised him slightly. Isn’t she supposed to be back in Europe?
“How was your flight back home?” Phoenix asked, his curiosity genuine, a rare blend of casual interest and concern.
Miles sighed deeply, his fingers gently massaging his aching temple. Clearly Phoenix truly was only informed a bit about it. “A man was found dead after some unexpected turbulence, and somehow, the blame was placed on me...” He spoke with a begrudging tone, as the memory of the incident still lingered. It was a flight he would much rather forget.
“What?!” His outburst caused a few nearby patrons to glance their way, and Phoenix quickly waved an apologetic hand, lowering his head slightly in embarrassment.”Someone was murdered on your flight home?” He lowered his voice into a more quiet whisper, but there was still heightened confusion in his tone. “Did they even have proof you did it?” A subtle hint of irritation rose in the back of his throat.
Miles exhaled a soft sigh and shook his head, his tone still calm, unwavering. “As fate would have it, I was the first to discover the body. Naturally, that led to suspicion falling on me.” He lifted his head slightly, his posture radiating quiet confidence. “But, of course, I proved my innocence. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be sitting here before you now.”
Wright nodded and let out a huff. “Damn right.” He leaned back in the booth, stretching both arms overhead, looking as if he was finally starting to settle into the moment again. “So, where’d they find the body, anyway?” His inner lawyer couldn’t help but poke at the details, his curiosity clearly getting the best of him.
Miles paused, the atmosphere subtly shifting as his expression hardened just slightly. “...An elevator.”
For a moment, the silence between them grew thick. Phoenix’s relaxed demeanor shifted almost imperceptibly, his eyes widening as the realization hit. His face slowly transformed into a mix of concern and understanding—an ‘oh shit’ moment, clear as day. From the turbulence on the plane to a man’s murder in an elevator, and the blame falling on Edgeworth, he could hardly fathom what Miles must have endured
“Oh…” Wright spoke softly, his face unreadable as a fluctuation of emotions flooded through him. Honestly it was a fair reaction, considering it was ironic how this wasn’t the first time something like this had occurred.
“I’m so—” Phoenix began, but he was cut off when an employee arrived at their table, setting down a tray of food with little fanfare.
“Here you go.” The voice was flat, devoid of enthusiasm, as though the person was merely going through the motions, clearly ready for the end of their shift. The tray held two average-looking burgers, a basket of warm fries, a water, and a soda. Miles couldn’t help but briefly wonder if this was, in fact, the burger that would “steal his heart.”
“Thank you,” both men murmured politely as the employee turned and walked away, eager to escape. The silence between them stretched again, this time more awkward than before, until Phoenix cautiously spoke.
“Are you… okay?” he asked, the words light but laced with care. He knew the subject might be painful, and he didn’t want to push too hard.
“I’m fine now, thank you.” Edgeworth said softly as he handed Phoenix his basket of food. “Honestly, it wasn’t the worst part of the week. But I’m sure you’ll read about the rest of it in the newspaper.” He said it so casually, as if it were nothing, but Phoenix’s reaction was immediate. He stared at Miles with an unmistakable what the fuck? expression, clearly not buying the nonchalance.
Edgeworth let out a soft sigh, placing his palm gently on the table in front of Phoenix. His tone softened, rare and vulnerable. “I’m fine, I promise,” he reassured, his usual guarded self slipping, even if only for a moment. It wasn’t something he often said—much less with such sincerity—but he felt the need to make sure Phoenix understood.
“Enough about me. How have you been, Wright? You look…” Miles hesitated, his eyes scanning Phoenix’s appearance as if trying to decode the changes he couldn’t quite put his finger on. He didn’t want to sound rude, but there was no denying that Phoenix’s look had changed. Not in a way that was bad or unpleasant. In fact weirdly enough, since seeing Phoenix again he was oddly… intrigued. He just seemed so…
“Different?” Phoenix spoke, finishing Edgeworth's sentence (and thought) with a raised eyebrow. He leaned back slightly, his lips twitching with amusement as he caught the awkward shift in Miles' demeanor.
Phoenix simply chuckled, shaking his head, and reached for his burger. “It’s alright,” he said, the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Let’s just say I wasn’t upset you didn’t immediately reach out. I had some pressing business to handle myself.”
As Phoenix bit into his burger, Miles couldn’t help but notice the slight shift in his eyes. There was something there—something unsaid. He wasn’t sure what it was, but it was clear Phoenix wasn’t quite as at ease as he appeared.
Miles glanced at Phoenix with mild amusement, his fingers gently gripping the plastic knife and fork. He took a slow, deliberate cut down the middle of his burger before his gaze shifted back to his companion. “So, care to explain exactly what you’ve been up to?” he asked, the question laced with genuine curiosity but wrapped in his usual cool tone.
As he spoke, he observed Phoenix with a quiet, scrutinizing look. Phoenix, on the other hand, appeared to be devouring his meal with an almost frantic intensity, chewing as though he hadn’t eaten in days. Miles couldn’t help but smirk inwardly; as mentioned earlier… he definitely lacks proper etiquette.
Phoenix swallowed a mouthful of food, mumbling as he wiped his hands on a napkin. “Well...” he began, his voice muffled with food, “Would you prefer the good news or the bad news first?” His lips curled up into a soft, teasing smirk, though there was something in his eyes—a subtle flicker of concern—that Miles quickly noticed. Whatever the bad news was, it clearly weighed heavier on him than he was letting on.
Edgeworth briefly lifted a brow in Phoenix's direction as he started to cut his burger horizontally now. “I'm indifferent.”
Wright let out a stifled laugh, almost as if he’d expected Miles to say that. His eyes dropped to his burger, his hands stilling for a moment as something heavy seemed to settle on his chest. For a brief second, the carefree nature that usually accompanied Phoenix faltered, and he appeared almost... defeated.
“I uh…will start with the bad news then.” He exhaled sharply, closing his eyes as if steeling himself for what came next. “I got disbarred. I’m no longer a defense attorney.”
Edgeworth froze mid-cut, his fork hovering above the burger as his gaze snapped up, his expression momentarily blank in disbelief. “ What? ” His voice was soft but heavy with an echo of disbelief, a tone that betrayed how deeply he was struggling to process what he had just heard. His eyes locked onto Phoenix, his former partner, his once steadfast ally— partner in law , as it were—but at that moment, those details felt insignificant.
“Believe me, I’m still in as much shock as you are,” Phoenix muttered, an awkward, hollow laugh escaping him. He tried to grin, but it was weak, the kind that couldn’t mask the profound sense of failure and loss underneath. Miles could see it clearly now—the faint tremble in Phoenix’s voice, the weary slump of his shoulders—it was as if this moment had broken him in ways that words alone couldn’t describe.
"What on earth do you mean you got disbarred Wright?" Edgeworth's voice rose sharply as he stared at the former attorney, his shock momentarily overriding the throbbing pain in his head.
"I mean exactly what I said." Phoenix exhaled heavily, leaning back in his seat as he braced himself for what was sure to be a lengthy explanation. "My client at the time, Zak Gramarye, was accused of murder and put on trial." He met Edgeworth's piercing grey eyes, which were practically pleading for clarity.
"I'll spare you the full details," Phoenix continued, his tone heavy with regret. "But… to put it plainly, I presented forged evidence in court." The words came out bluntly, a deliberate choice, though he knew it did little to ease the tension in the air.
"Forged evidence?" Edgeworth's voice rose an octave, his calm veneer beginning to crack. "You'll spare me the details ? Absolutely not! I want to hear every last testimony , every shred of—"
"For the sake of our current surroundings," Phoenix interrupted quickly, his voice firm but calm, "and given how convoluted the case is… I'm sparing you the details for now . I promise you'll get your answers in due time."
Edgeworth’s lips pressed into a thin line as he drew in a deep, steadying breath. Phoenix Wright? Disbarred? For forging evidence? The idea sounded absurd, yet… it gnawed at him. He could imagine himself accused of such a crime—after all, suspicion had clung to him for years, a byproduct of being mentored by Von Karma. But Phoenix? The man who had risked everything to prove his innocence in court? The thought was almost laughable. Almost.
And yet, as Wright’s calm but straightforward words hung in the air, Miles couldn’t help but feel like he’d walked into a joke but somehow missed the punchline.
“How am I only now hearing about this?” Edgeworth finally asked, his voice tinged with disbelief. He searched Phoenix’s face for an answer, though the man before him offered no clear resolution.
Phoenix simply shrugged, exhaling a long, weary sigh. “It’s still pretty fresh,” he admitted. “And with you being out of the country and all, the news hasn’t exactly traveled fast.”
Edgeworth’s sharp gaze didn’t waver, but Phoenix hesitated, his expression faltering. He turned his head slightly, avoiding direct eye contact as he reached up to rub the back of his neck. His posture was almost sheepish. Edgeworth had so many questions, and couldn’t wrap his head around why Wright didn’t tell him any sooner?
“And honestly,” he added in a voice barely louder than a mumble, “I was worried that telling you might… change the way you see me.”
The vulnerability in his tone caught Edgeworth off guard. For a moment, the prosecutor didn’t know what to say, the weight of Wright’s admission settling heavily between them.
“Did you know it was forged?” Edgeworth asked, his voice measured despite the turmoil beneath it. He already knew the answer, but the words slipped out anyway. Wright wouldn’t do that… he couldn’t.
“I had no clue,” Phoenix admitted, his tone quiet but weighted with regret. “But unfortunately, once you submit evidence in court, what’s done is done.” His gaze faltered for a moment, a flicker of guilt flashing in his eyes.
The quiet weight of those words hung in the air. Edgeworth knew the process all too well—the steps, the rules, the irreversible consequences. He had lived by those rules for years, yet now, in this moment, they felt infuriatingly rigid. Unfair.
He folded his arms across his chest, the movement deliberate as if to ground himself. “Well… let me reassure you, Wright. It would take far more than that to change how I see you.” His tone was firm, but not unkind.
Phoenix blinked, startled by the declaration, but before he could respond, Edgeworth continued. “If anything, I’m more upset with myself —that I wasn’t here to assist you when you needed it.”
The words carried a rare vulnerability, a glimpse of the guilt that had begun to gnaw at him. Phoenix had changed everything for Miles—his career, his beliefs, and his understanding of what justice truly meant. And now, the thought that he hadn’t been there when Wright needed him most was almost unbearable.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t here,” Edgeworth said softly, his voice tinged with regret. “That must have been incredibly… difficult to deal with alone.” His gaze fell to the cup of water in front of him, and he had just realized how dry his throat had become.
“Actually…” Phoenix began, his voice cutting through the heavy air. There was a faint glimmer in his eyes now, a contrast to the somber tone of their earlier conversation. “I suppose that’s where the good news comes in.” His words were spoken plainly, but the subtle shift in his demeanor didn’t escape Edgeworth’s notice.
Raising the cup to his lips, Edgeworth cast a curious glance at him. “Good news?”
“I wasn’t exactly alone,” Phoenix admitted, a small, almost wistful smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. His gaze drifted for a moment, as if recalling something that warmed him from within. “Despite losing my job, I found a different occupation. Something better.”
Phoenix turned his head to face him fully, the familiar, wide grin that Edgeworth had seen countless times now lighting up his face.
“I’m a dad now!” he declared, his voice filled with a mixture of pride and joy.
The water Edgeworth had just sipped went down the wrong way, immediately catching in his throat before shooting out through his nose. His cheeks flushed a deep red as he gasped, coughing violently in a desperate attempt to draw air back into his lungs.
This time, it was Edgeworth who became the center of attention, curious glances from surrounding tables now shifting in their direction.
Phoenix sprang to his feet, his movements quick but unsure as he leaned slightly over the table. One hand reached out toward Edgeworth, while the other waved frantically, trying to dismiss the stares of nearby patrons.
“Are you okay?!” Phoenix’s blue eyes were wide with alarm, his voice edged with concern. Clearly, he hadn’t expected such an explosive reaction to his announcement.
Edgeworth could only manage a weak wave of his hand as he struggled to regain his composure, his coughing subsiding into a series of strained breaths; gods was his head pounding now.
“Y-You’re a father?!” Miles lifted his flushed face, his watery eyes wide with utter disbelief. “Who—what— since when — how?! ” His voice rose with each frantic question, his usually composed demeanor completely unraveling.
Wright, trying his best to remain calm in the face of Edgeworth’s rare outburst, reached for one of the napkins on the table and handed it over. “I promise you, I’m also just as shocked as you are!” Phoenix said, his tone half-reassuring, half-apologetic, as though that would somehow make the revelation easier to digest.
Edgeworth snatched the napkin and carefully dabbed at his nose, still flushed from both his coughing fit and the bombshell Phoenix had dropped. “W-well… have you settled down?” he asked, his voice slightly strained as he worked to regain a semblance of composure.
As he wiped away the last traces of water, his sharp eyes darted toward Phoenix’s hand, instinctively searching for any sign of a ring. Surely, this announcement meant Wright had… settled down? But there was nothing—no ring, no clear answer. The lack of one only deepened his confusion, his mind racing to piece together the story Phoenix had yet to tell. If he did settle down, he would be quite insulted for not knowing this. And…weirdly hurt. Edgeworth may have been gone for some time, but he didn’t think Wright would have settled down already!
“No, no!” Phoenix quickly waved his hands, dismissing the thought before it could spiral further. Unfortunately, the frantic gesture only seemed to make things worse.
“So… was it an accident?!” Edgeworth exclaimed, his voice rising in incredulity. “Christ, Wright! I knew you’d occasionally forget the basic rules in court, but I didn’t think you’d forget protection in—”
“ Miles! ” Phoenix cut him off, slapping a hand over Edgeworth’s mouth before the sentence could finish. His face turned a bright shade of pink as he glanced around the burger joint, which now felt far less “inviting” than it had a few moments ago.
“Jesus, no! It wasn’t an accident!” he hissed, his voice barely above a whisper as his blue eyes darted nervously to the curious stares of other diners. “I adopted! ”
Edgeworth stared at Phoenix, his eyes wide as Wright's hand fell back to his side. He blinked slowly, the words finally beginning to register. “Adopted? So… no settling down? No unforeseen accident?” His tone was even, though laced with lingering disbelief. (A part of him felt weirdly relieved as well…)
“Yes, adopted!” Phoenix groaned, rolling his eyes in exasperation. “Don’t worry. I didn’t settle down or anything—”
“I wasn’t worried,” Edgeworth interrupted swiftly, his tone clipped but just light enough to suggest otherwise.
Phoenix shot him a look, narrowing his eyes as if to silently challenge the claim. “...Right,” he mumbled, clearly unconvinced but deciding to let it slide.
As the initial tension between them began to settle, Phoenix let out a long sigh and eased himself back into his chair. He glanced down briefly, a softer expression taking over as he spoke.
“Anyway… yes, I’m an adoptive dad.” A faint smile played at his lips, his tone warming with pride. “Her name is Trucy.”
Edgeworth arched a brow, leaning forward slightly, his curiosity piqued once more. “Trucy?”
“Yeah,” Phoenix said, his smile growing. “She’s… well, she’s amazing. You’ll see.”
“I see…” Edgeworth murmured, his gaze dropping to the table as he took in the aftermath of his water-related mishap. With a huff, he grabbed a napkin and began wiping up the spill. “Well, this entirely changes how I view you, by the way.”
Phoenix’s expression faltered for a moment, and then shifted into a mildly annoyed frown. “Didn’t you just say earlier that ‘it would take far more than that to change how I see you’?”
Edgeworth looked up, a hint of exasperation in his eyes. “This is entirely different! This is a child! ”
"Would you relax?" Phoenix tried to soothe Edgeworth's rather overdramatic concerns, though he couldn't entirely blame him. Deep down, he understood where Edgeworth was coming from. After all, confessing to losing his job and then casually mentioning he was now a father did sound... abrupt. Especially when you’re a single father.
“There wasn’t much of a choice,” Phoenix admitted, his voice heavy with melancholy. A shadow passed over his face as he leaned back in his seat, trying to find some semblance of comfort in the difficult conversation. “Trucy’s parents were part of a troupe called the Gramarye—a group of magicians famous for their performances. They were incredible.”
Edgeworth’s brow furrowed as he repeated the name softly. “Gramarye? Wasn’t that the name of one of your clients?”
Phoenix nodded slowly, his gaze fixed on the ground. “Correct. That’s… Trucy’s father,” he said, his voice catching slightly. He hesitated, then solemnly corrected himself. “ Was Trucy’s father.”
Edgeworth observed the change in Phoenix’s expression—how it hardened into something unreadable, guarded. “After the events of the trial, he… disappeared,” Phoenix added, his tone clipped, as though speaking the words made the reality more concrete.
Edgeworth said nothing, his sharp eyes watching Phoenix with a mix of curiosity and restrained concern. There was clearly more to this story, but he knew better than to press too hard, too quickly. Still… so much must have happened in this case for it all to lead to this.
“As for Trucy’s mother, she’s…” Phoenix hesitated, the pause stretching just long enough to draw Edgeworth’s full attention. He finally lifted his gaze, meeting Edgeworth’s eyes with a quiet, somber resolve. “No longer in the picture either.”
The words lingered in the air, heavy with unspoken meaning. Edgeworth’s brows furrowed slightly, his sharp mind analyzing the phrasing. He didn’t press, though—if Phoenix couldn’t or wouldn’t elaborate, there had to be a reason.
“With that being said,” Phoenix continued, his voice leveling out into an unnervingly calm tone, “After it had been some time, it was clear her father probably wouldn’t return. I called around to see if Trucy had any other relatives who could take her in. I thought, maybe someone out there would step up for her.” He shook his head faintly. “No luck. There was nobody.”
Edgeworth noted how Phoenix’s voice had shifted—it was almost clinical, detached, reminding him of his own when arguing a case in court. But beneath that calm exterior, there was something raw, something aching.
“I didn’t want her to feel abandoned,” Phoenix admitted, the faintest crack slipping into his steady cadence. “She’s probably felt that enough already.” His shoulders sagged as he sighed, the vulnerability in his expression momentarily unguarded. “And putting her into the adoption system just felt… wrong.”
His gaze softened then, a glimmer of sympathy and something deeper shining in his eyes. “She deserves better.”
Edgeworth opened his mouth to respond, but Phoenix cut him off, his next words landing unexpectedly.
“That’s when I thought about you.”
Edgeworth blinked, caught entirely off guard. “Me?”
Phoenix nodded, a faint, bittersweet smile playing at his lips. Despite the gesture, the sympathy in his eyes remained. “You and Trucy… you’re more alike than you might think. She actually reminds me of you, especially when you were a kid.” He chuckled softly, a quiet, almost nostalgic sound, as he reached under his jacket. With deliberate care, he pulled out a small golden locket hanging from a chain around his neck.
“She blames herself for everything,” Phoenix said quietly. “The events with her mother, her father—my disbarment.” His fingers brushed over the locket before he gently pushed it open, revealing a small photo inside. His gaze softened as he stared down at the image, lost in thought. “She was actually the one who handed me the forged piece of evidence.”
Edgeworth’s sharp eyes flicked upward, catching the subtle tension in Phoenix’s voice. Though Phoenix hadn’t said it outright, Edgeworth already had a strong sense of where this was going. Still, he remained silent, his expression unreadable.
“Not that it was her fault,” Phoenix added firmly, his tone heavy with conviction. “None of it was…” His thumb brushed over the photo, his eyes growing impossibly soft.
“And it was because of that,” Phoenix said, his voice steady but tinged with emotion, “I knew… I had to take care of her.” His gaze lifted, locking onto the dark grey eyes staring back at him. “She was just a little girl, caught up in a terrible accident she had no part in. But despite that, she kept getting the short end of the stick.”
Phoenix’s eyes held Edgeworth’s, unyielding yet gentle. There was no accusation in his expression, no judgment—just an unspoken plea for understanding.
Edgeworth didn’t look away, but he felt his chest tighten. The story, the emotions behind it… it all sounded uncomfortably familiar.
“If I left it up to someone else to decide where she ends up, who’s to say she wouldn’t land with someone just like him ?” Phoenix continued, his voice dropping slightly, the weight of the implication clear.
Edgeworth didn’t need a name to know who Phoenix meant. The image of Manfred von Karma flashed in his mind, the man whose manipulative grip had tormented him for years. A man who had molded his childhood into something cold and unyielding, leaving scars that ran far deeper than anyone could see.
“I take back what I said earlier,” Phoenix murmured, his voice softer now, almost reflective. “About there not being much of a choice.” He carefully extended his hand, offering the golden locket to Edgeworth. “There was a choice. Only one.”
Miles hesitated for a moment, his eyes darting from Phoenix’s steady hand to the locket itself. Finally, he reached out, his fingers brushing against the cool metal as he took it. With a deliberate motion, he opened the locket and gazed at the small photo inside.
The image was of a young girl, her face round and fair, framed by soft brown hair swept back to reveal bright blue eyes that seemed to sparkle with life. Her rosy cheeks and wide, radiant smile exuded an infectious joy. Perched on her head was a large pink magician’s hat, slightly askew but somehow adding to her charm.
Edgeworth felt something stir within him as he studied the photo. There was an undeniable warmth in her expression, a kind of light that felt achingly familiar. Despite knowing she wasn’t Phoenix’s biological daughter, that smile—it carried a piece of Phoenix within it, something unspoken yet deeply present.
“She possesses so much potential,” Phoenix said, his voice breaking through Edgeworth’s thoughts. There was a fierceness in his tone now, a quiet but unrelenting protectiveness that Edgeworth rarely heard from him. “Potential that shouldn’t be abused.”
Phoenix’s voice deepened, the conviction in his words rising. “I refuse to let history repeat itself. She deserves a fighting chance. A real one.”
Edgeworth stared down at the locket, his body stiffening as the weight of years of psychological torment under Von Karma flooded back into his mind. The memories were sharp and unrelenting, but for once, they came with a surprising sense of clarity. Phoenix made perfect sense at that moment. In all honesty, Miles knew he probably would have done the same if their roles had been reversed.
Everything Wright had endured must have been soul-crushing. Edgeworth couldn’t help but consider the weight of it all, and for a brief moment, he wondered if he could have endured the same trials. If their roles were reversed, would he have had the strength to push forward the way Phoenix did? The answer didn’t come easily, and that alone unsettled him.
When arriving at this diner, Edgeworth had every intention of recounting the absurd tales of his week—a series of events that were, admittedly, both ridiculous and uniquely his own. But as he reflected on the trials Phoenix had faced over the past few months, his stories suddenly felt trivial in comparison.
What was a little chaos here and there, after all, compared to losing your badge, your career, and, for a time, your sense of purpose? For Phoenix, this wasn’t just another chapter in his life. It was a battle for something far greater—a battle to rebuild, to redefine himself. And now he had a duty to look after someone.
In contrast, Edgeworth’s anecdotes felt like mere footnotes. A simple “all in a day’s work” ordeal that paled in the shadow of Wright’s resilience. He chose to avoid speaking on it.
After a solid minute of silence, Edgeworth gave a brief, decisive nod. He handed the locket back to Wright with careful precision.
“I see…” he murmured, his voice trailing off as he seemed lost in thought for a moment. Then, refocusing, he fixed his gaze squarely on Phoenix. “Earlier, when you were late arriving at the diner and mentioned something urgent had come up… was it about Trucy?”
Wright reached out, taking the locket from Edgeworth’s hand, and let out a boyish, somewhat awkward laugh. “Great deduction, as always, Prosecutor Edgeworth.” His hands moved with practiced ease as he tucked the locket back around his neck, the motion almost mechanical in its familiarity.
He sighed then, his shoulders sagging as if a weight had momentarily lifted. Rolling his neck to work out the tension that had been building there, he continued, “Unfortunately, the babysitter I hired came down sick, so I had to scramble for some emergency backup.”
“Emergency backup?” Edgeworth’s voice held a note of curiosity, though he could guess it wasn’t anything simple.
Phoenix rubbed his eyes with a soft sigh, the exhaustion from the ordeal creeping into his features. “Yeah, it was quite the situation…” He scratched his chin absently, recalling the events as he spoke. “I didn’t want to leave her home alone, but at the same time, I didn’t want to show up here and give you a heart attack.” He chuckled softly, the mental image of it easing some of the tension in his shoulders.
“It set me back a bit, which is why I was late, but…” His expression softened, and he let out a breath of relief. “She’s safe and sound back home now.”
There was a pause, a brief lull in the conversation, before Phoenix lifted his gaze, his expression changing subtly.
“…Would you like to meet her?”