Blocking Him Out

[madimpossibledreamer]

Main Points:
Ace Attorney Soulmate AU
Chapter Summary: This case just throws him another curveball.
Word Count: 2063
Rating: Teen
Pairing: pre-Wright/Edgeworth
Spoilers: The entirety of the first game and some pretty important spoilers for the second (especially 2x4)
warnings: self-esteem issues, general mental health issues, and references to suicide

        Phoenix had been feeling nervous enough, and that was before Franziska didn’t show up. And then, as if to top it all off, while they’re standing there waiting a bailiff comes to fetch him, handing a paper to the judge. He doesn’t recognize her. He’s not...getting arrested or anything, right? “The trial’s still today, right?” If not—surely the killer would still give him a day to win, because even for such a weird ransom request he has to be aware that there’s no way to get a verdict when he hasn’t even had a chance to defend his client, right?
        “There’s been a...complication, but yes,” she informs him, just as nervous, which is really intimidating and doesn’t tell him anything.
        And Miles is still panicking, too, about Phoenix’s nerves or whatever that highly tense top secret case he’d been working on was, but he’s blocking it out, probably—well, Phoenix would have said previously it’s because he doesn’t want to show weakness in front of him, but his friend’s been getting better and has been oddly nice, lately, so maybe it’s more that he’s trying not to distract Phoenix, even if he doesn’t fully understand where all the courtroom nerves are coming from. It’s not like Phoenix actually mentioned taking the case or anything.
        That’s up until he actually sees Edgeworth standing in one of the rarely used meeting rooms, tapping his shoulder with his arms crossed. Just in case, Phoenix blinks. Nope, still there. Not in Europe. Like he should be. He even sounds remarkably present and here and ready for this meeting that Phoenix is totally not ready for. “Good to see you, Wright, though I wish the circumstances were better.”
        This is all...honestly kind of intimidating, being escorted to a room that looks vaguely haunted without an explanation, but also, this is the first time he’s seeing his old friend after learning about the whole, you know, Linked thing, and it partly doesn’t even feel real. Not when Edgeworth is looking at him with nothing in his expression acknowledging that this hasn’t been some sort of...extended hallucination. “Edgeworth, it, uh—what’s going on?”
        Edgeworth takes a deep breath, as if trying to calm himself down. Wait, did Gumshoe tell Edgeworth about Maya? No, don’t tell him—“I’ll need you to calm down and breathe, Phoenix. We don’t have time for this.” Easy for you to say, Phoenix thinks, not bothering to put any effort into hiding it, and Edgeworth doesn’t even have the courtesy to react, so, fine, whatever, Phoenix puts his energy into doing just that until Edgeworth marginally relaxes and continues. “Franziska was shot.”
        God, what? He reaches out to put a hand on Edgeworth’s arm, and apart from a few muscles tensing his friend doesn’t actually react, which is wild. “Shot?! Is she okay?”
        Edgeworth swallows. It looks like he’s actually wrinkling the suit at this point. Phoenix hasn’t seen him be this careless with his suit in years—no, wait, he shouldn’t think about that in case it makes Miles think about it, if he hasn’t been already. Damn, this can’t have been good for him, what with everything else going on. He nearly manages to sound his calm, cool, and collected self as he continues. Nearly. “I’m sure she would begrudgingly accept your concern, but I...appreciate it. Just her shoulder, fortunately, though I have the feeling that had I not dragged her to the nearest clinic she would have attempted to run this trial anyway.”
        He means that literally, Phoenix realizes, because while Edgeworth probably changed out his jacket for an identical one, it looks like he missed a little blood drying on his waistcoat. Nobody would notice if they weren’t this close up, though. Not against that dark fabric. He shivers. “Geeze, she is too much like her dad.”
        “Given that she had been taught her worthiness was dependent on an unbeaten prosecution record, I suspect that’s more a case of nurture rather than nature.” Speaking from experience, huh? “I’ve been trying to demonstrate otherwise, but I fear she still doesn’t entirely understand.”
        God, this is all too depressing. He’s got to say something to cheer him up, right? As if this case doesn’t already suck enough. “I bet she’s still happy about it, though. In her own way.”
        It apparently doesn’t help, because all Edgeworth offers in return is a simple noncommittal, “Perhaps.”
        Wait—does that mean the suicide reports had actually been from Edgeworth? Probably, although it’d gotten Gumshoe fired and that probably wasn’t the point; if Edgeworth had been trying he could’ve had the detective fired years ago, and he probably wouldn’t choose such a convoluted way to do it, either. And, ugh, sending those along was probably a bit too close to home, but Phoenix doesn’t have time for that right now when a life hangs in the balance and he doesn’t have a clue what to say, anyway.
        “So, uh. What’s going to happen to the trial?” He tries not to sound too nervous. Or eager. And wait, is Edgeworth nervous, too? He’d been making out like Franziska was going to be fine, right? Why can’t he feel that across the Link? At this point Edgeworth has got to be blocking it out, but he’d been doing so much better showing vulnerability.
        Edgeworth doesn’t answer immediately. “We finished processing the change of prosecutor paperwork. Since I’m the only prosecutor available and familiar with this case…”
        ...Oh. Oh no.
        He, uh, he can do this, right? He’s done this before. And at least Miles is at the point where he cares if the defendant is guilty or not, and he’s not, the Magatama said so, so...Edgeworth isn’t going to send an innocent man to jail and he can totally do this. Breathe, Phoenix. “You’re my opponent now?”
        “I’m afraid so—though I admit, I’ve been looking forward to this, Wright.” He looks adorably embarrassed, like he’d just admitted to liking kid’s shows or something.
        Wait that makes so much sense. It’s got to be the blocker drugs, right? He hadn’t paid too much attention to the paperwork because he’d assumed Edgeworth would announce he was back in the country with, like, fancy stationary and a summons or something and discuss all of this before their first case back, but—then again, this is all a whirlwind given the circumstances and he hadn’t planned on this to be so haphazard. “The blocker drugs aren’t messing with you, are they?”
        He’s almost certain the answer is yes, because that question isn’t quite worthy of the victorious, slightly vicious smile Phoenix remembers all too well, although there’s a pinch around the eyes that says the answer is yes. “Sharp as ever, Wright. When you put your mind to it, that is. Yes, we’re both required to take blockers via injection or by mouth. They don’t interfere with any of your medications, do they? I checked the last ones I knew, but I don’t know if you’ve had any adjustments since.” And, of course, he sidesteps the question—but apparently his sense of justice or competitiveness or whatever the hell’s going on inside his head at the moment that Phoenix has absolutely no access to means that he’d willingly taken them despite the bad memories so they can face each other in court. And also, it’s just like Miles to be thorough enough to check that ahead of time.
        “I, um. I haven’t had any changes.” He’s sometimes forgotten to take a few, but...Edgeworth doesn’t even call him out on it, so obviously, it’s working perfectly well. “I’m surprised they make both of us do it. I don’t hear a thing.”
        “Precautionary, mostly. The public is, in general, against letting Linked pairs serve on opposite sides of the courtroom, after all. Maintaining a professional air of impartiality is vital to ensure belief in the courts, and after...recent events, that’s even more critical than ever.” Probably also why they’ve got the bailiff still standing here to verify they both took them, watching awkwardly like she’s intimidated by Edgeworth. “Do you have a preference?”
        “I’m fine with needles, I guess.” Miles grimaces, like he’s not fond of the option, but nods and starts walking him through it anyway.
        “How long does this take?” He’s aware that it’s not a ‘right away’ thing, but he really doesn’t want to explain to a kidnapper that the trial got postponed until after lunch because the prosecutor happened to be his Linked.
        “Unlike many types of injections, blocker injections work fairly quickly—no more than ten minutes. I suppose it’s most similar to a steroid shot, though I regret to inform you I cannot explain the medical mechanisms.” Show-off, Phoenix thinks fondly. “Furthermore the duration of their effect is roughly eight hours—generally long enough for even a long day at court. Other than the blocker, we are both also required to offer our Linked status as part of our confirming our readiness for this trial, and should any party involved in the trial offer a formal complaint due to our status, we may be replaced.”
        Apparently he freaks out just enough in Edgeworth’s field of vision that he doesn’t have to be looking at Phoenix directly to notice. He’s obviously trying to keep an eye out without outright staring. “Of course, I don’t anticipate any such problems. Your own client seemed rather amused by the declaration and said he’s putting his full faith in you, and, well.” Does he actually look a little intimidated? Gotta be due to Oldbag, right? “None of the witnesses expressed an inclination to voice objections of—of that sort.” She...probably wasn’t happy about the whole Linked thing, was she? She’s probably going to have an entire ‘back in my day’ speech ready, that she’s probably been rehearsing even. Phoenix isn’t looking forward to that, but between the two of them they can probably keep that from going on all day. Though that still sounds...like a scary amount of work.
        Phoenix yawns, and Edgeworth leans forward a little, hovering, piercing grey eyes observing everything. “I’m okay, just didn’t get a lot of sleep. Nothing about side effects, promise.” He’s pretty sure. Miles doesn’t call him on that, either, just looks vaguely less tense. Trying to think through that request when there’s something nagging at him, an empty void of something that should be there and is now out of reach if it was even there at all, is difficult, like wading through molasses. No wonder Miles—
        “How are you doing, Wright?” ...Oh. He’s being strangely formal, for Miles, trying to make sure no one has any reason to look too closely, probably having been all too familiar with the phenomenon earlier, even if he claimed it didn’t bother him, but it’s not because he doesn’t care. He might sound a little condescending, but he might be talking so much just to fill the void.
        “You felt like this all the time?” Phoenix can barely stand this, and that’s on top of Maya.
        The smile is small and a little smug. Edgeworth shrugs. “My therapist was telling me about a psychological theory about how taking blockers nearly constantly was detrimental to an already fragile mental health. Something about a high percentage of Linked being neurodivergent in some way.”
        “So, uh, wait, that might’ve been behind the. You know.” He doesn’t want to talk about the attempt. Edgeworth himself skirted around, talking about the before and after but nothing about the time itself.
        “That’s probably my abysmal sense of self-esteem, but I’m sure the blockers didn’t help.” The bailiff starts, but Edgeworth doesn’t even glance in her direction, as if her presence doesn’t bother him in the slightest. Without being able to glimpse into Edgeworth’s mind, it’s impossible to tell if that’s a joke or not. He’s been doing that a little more, and given his deadpan, blunt delivery it’s really hard to tell without further clues. He’s been doing a little better—at least, he’s seemed that way—but some self-loathing remains. And then he smirks, and at least it seems genuine from the outside. “And, now that it appears to be working—ready to lose, Wright?”
        More than one life rests on the outcome of this case, and given that it really seems like Engarde’s being framed while he’s totally innocent… “You’re on, Edgeworth.”