madimpossibledreamer

Until I figure out the ratings thing I may just keep rating things Teen for a while.

Main Points:
Ace Attorney AU
Chapter IX
Summary: Gumshoe is useful, Wright tries something new, and Edgeworth and Wright prepare themselves for the challenges of this new world...
This is the last strictly worldbuilding chapter left before the first case.
Word Count: 2,034
Rating: T

Miles woke up slowly, this time without Maya shining lights in his eyes or playing music or dancing on top of his bed. That had been particularly traumatizing, and he had no wish to remember it.

Noticing that Edgeworth hadn't particularly been looking forward to grocery shopping, Wright had offered to accompany the girls instead. A kind offer, to be sure, but he hadn't particularly trusted Phoenix not to spend too much on his own, either. He'd almost protested, insisted that he chaperone his money, but remembered that someone was recently homeless. He'd do what he could in the meantime, but a lot of preparations had to be made. Making sure his old friend had enough was no easy task, so he went and withdrew some money at the bank, with further instructions. "Have Maya call and we'll meet for lunch." At which point, he was planning on giving Wright further money in order to replace the possessions that hadn't also made the transition. Phoenix Wright was likely to argue—probably with an objection or the words 'hold it!', but such objections would be overruled. "Any paychecks you might receive for working at the law office will merely go to your debts" he was planning to say. In other words, Phoenix would work for no money until he paid off his debt. Of course, a discrepancy might occur between the two—Edgeworth wasn't entirely heartless, after all—but at the same time, Wright's ego would not be wounded from charity, and perhaps this one might learn a little responsibility, too.

He visited the courthouse, somehow escaping past all the reporters, especially since he saw a large afro bobbing in his direction, and quickly continued up the steps. Staircases, after all, were no problem, since he didn't use the elevators if he could help it. Little more information was available, but Gumshoe was milling around in front of one of the courtrooms, looking rather lost. "Have you seen Mr. Wright, pal? I thought he'd want this..."

Edgeworth raised an eyebrow. He'd always felt a little sorry for the scruffy detective, between the beatings by the younger Von Karma's whip, being fired several times, having everyone in the prosecutor's department bossing him around, and the fact that 'salary' was more of a mockery than a reality in his case... Of course, it would probably help if Detective Gumshoe was at all competent, but he probably couldn't help that, and as Wright had shown in a few cases, sometimes all it took was will and enthusiasm. "You do realize that, as a defense lawyer, Wright is not your superior any longer?" He found himself pointing a finger at the detective, and quickly returned it to his side. This wasn't the courtroom, after all.

"...You're not wearing your usual pink suit, sir!" (...A little slow on the uptake, are we, Detective?)

"That is for court cases. As I am not in court, but on holiday, it is unnecessary and impractical to wear my suit. For one thing, it's a nuisance to keep clean." (And why am I letting myself get sidetracked again? ...I think absurdities just follow Wright around.)

"I can imagine. You have no idea how difficult it is to keep my jacket clean. I even got some blood on it once." The detective tried clumsily to point at a particularly interesting spot on his jacket.

Miles Edgeworth sighed mentally. (I have nowhere to begin. Somehow, Gumshoe has managed to miss that his beloved mentor committed suicide—despite his wailing at the funeral—that this version is not the one he knew, and that, for the moment, the courthouse is closed while the situation is evaluated...) "...what type of evidence is this?" he asked quietly. Patience had solved him a good many cases, despite the oddities and the rather humiliating things he'd occasionally had to do to solve them.

"Oh, it's not evidence!" Gumshoe was quick to reassure. "It's a list of those currently in prison. I figured the Prosecutor would probably want it."

And as had occasionally happened, Gumshoe had done something extremely important, all without realizing it. "...He's not a Prosecutor at the moment, but you're right, I'm sure he'd find it very interesting. I'll make sure he gets it. In the future, though, I would recommend you take more care. I doubt Von Karma would take very kindly to the sharing of evidence." The flinch told him that at least Gumshoe remembered the younger Von Karma. Edgeworth mentally made a note to deliver several gallon-bottles of water and some tastier alternatives to the ramen noodles Gumshoe was always eating. He deserved something for his troubles. Of course, he'd have to check that the detective was still residing at the same address he remembered....

He opened the door to the courtroom to find...the Judge, showing around a little boy, whom Edgeworth presumed was the Judge's grandson, around the courtroom. He promptly closed the door again. As usual, the Judge had no idea what was going on and was likely useless. The Prosecutor's Office and the Precinct were probable good next steps. After all, how was Edgeworth to proceed if he was not in possession of all the facts?

A few more errands to pave the way, and then a quick call on the mobile, telling him that Wright and the Feys were done throwing his money away for the moment. He thought, then decided that he was in the mood for Ethiopian. Wright sounded slightly dubious on the phone, but acknowledged the choice without argument. That was odd, and Edgeworth didn't particularly care for this side of his friend. Still, Phoenix hung up too quickly for him to voice any objections, and so he made his way to the rendezvous spot.

Miles was staring at the lists trying desperately to recall details of his cases and any others he'd read about when he became aware of Wright's presence behind him. The slap on his back could be no one else (well, perhaps Larry, but Larry hadn't been heard from since the world changed). He'd get to that eventually.

The voice, however, was Phoenix's. "You're a workaholic, Edgey."

Edgeworth glanced up, suddenly aware that he was frowning. A little effort quickly eased the troubled brow.

Phoenix slid into the booth opposite, grinning. The action made those unruly spikes of his bounce a little. (It's a miracle they don't bounce more than they do. He'd be taken even less seriously, and I didn't even think that was possible.)

"Hardly working, Wright. This is a present from Gumshoe to you." He looked around, wondering what had happened to his younger assistants.

"Maya wanted to show Pearly this new noodle stand she found. If she is talking about the one I think she's talking about, it's like sentencing people to drink seawater. I like not dying, so I thought I'd pass. Besides, you told us to meet you, and I know better than to incur the wrath of Edgey." He glanced at the paper. "Do I want to know what Gumshoe considers a present?" (Maya is a bad influence on Wright. Also, I will probably need to restrict him from anything, coffee, tea, or otherwise, with too much caffeine.)

Edgeworth turned the paper so Phoenix could see. "It's a list of inmates currently incarcerated in our prison system. I'm trying to cross check the list with the cases I remember, but trying to remember each and every one of them is difficult. Unlike you, I'm sure, I took on more cases."

Phoenix Wright winced at the last statement, but quickly looked more serious. So he was capable of it, at some points, unlike the Butz. That was likely a relief to potential clients. "Couldn't you look at those really detailed case notes you always take?" he asked. On Miles's startled glance, he looked a bit embarrassed. "You're really thorough. I can't imagine you not doing that. Though as a Prosecutor, you really didn't need to."

"Prosecutors are encouraged to delegate as much as possible. Why wouldn't they?" Edgeworth was amused, not annoyed. (So he isn't always oblivious, and he can be insightful when he wants to be. Of course, I should've learned that he was more than meets the eye from Prosecutor Wright.) "And I can't be sure my notes weren't altered-rather, I can't be sure that they're not also a compilation from different versions of myself."

Wright nodded understandingly. "Well, it's not much, but we can make a few notes on one of the napkins."

"They're cloth, Wright." Miles dampened his initial horror at the suggestion. "It's small, and we can't take very detailed notes, but I do have a small notepad on me at all times."

"...You know, sometimes I wonder whether you were a Boy Scout." Phoenix got up.

(I'm not sure I want to know the answer, but...) "What are you doing?"

"Well, it'll be easier for both of us to look at it and go through our memories if we're both sitting on the same side." (He is really overly cheerful about this, but it's not like I didn't invite this sort of thing to happen...)

"All right..." Edgeworth conceded reluctantly, "...though in that case, we may wish to move to a table."

Wright waved it off. "It's fine. It looks like most of them are taken anyway. This is the lunch hour, and it's really hectic what with dimensional stuff and everything."

Feeling a little foolish, Edgeworth moved further into the booth, making room for an oddly cheery Phoenix, who slid in as soon as he could. (It's possible he missed our friendship just as much.) "We had better choose what we're eating."

"...Right. I've never been at a fancy restaurant like this, so..." Phoenix was rubbing at the back of his neck, embarrassed.

(He thinks this is fancy?!?) Edgeworth found himself taking on a bit of a lecturing tone, even pointing his finger like in court. (And has it really been that long since I've had a holiday?) "It's customary for the food to all come in one big plate, and it's really finger food. You use the bread to pick up the rest and eat it. It's common to get your hands messy."

Wright glanced at him uncertainly. "Doesn't that drive you crazy?"

Edgeworth half-shrugged, looked away. "A bit, but the food is good enough that such things don't particularly matter." That must not have been the answer Phoenix was expecting, but he didn't seem displeased about that.

"Okay, well, what should I try?" (...Really, Wright, you can't even glance at the menu? You're hopeless.)

"Personally, I like the mushroom dish, although practically everything is good, and I've had it all at one time or another. If you're not good with spicy food, be sure to order it mild. Also, I will be ordering us a side of sambussa. It's a pastry with lentils." Wright made a face. "Please don't judge it until you've tried it." To be perfectly honest, that was true for quite a lot. "They have interesting varieties of tea or coffee. They don't have much in the way of caffeine, but I wouldn't recommend either to you at the moment."

Phoenix looked sheepish. "Y-yeah, sorry. They had samples."

"I suppose impulse shopping might increase if customers are...overly enthusiastic," Edgeworth mused. "Other than that, they tend to have the usual drinks."

Nick leaned in a little, not looking at the menu, unfortunately. They could get back to work afterward, but at the moment, Edgeworth was rather hungry, and it wouldn't do to delay eating or make the waiter wait. "At least Von Karma's locked away. Though I thought that he'd been...you know...."

Miles couldn't help the tension that had crept in. He disliked that man for several reasons. "The death sentence?" He nodded. "So did I, but apparently, whichever version of himself crossed over the divide wasn't one."

At least Wright only ordered grape juice, which might allow him to wind down a little. Edgeworth blew on the cup of coffee and took a small sip. (At least that man didn't succeed after all. Our friendship was reborn. Like a bird emerging newborn from the ashes. How appropriate.)