Connection Renewed

[madimpossibledreamer]

Phoenix you and Edgeworth are entirely made of dramatic gestures

Main Points:
Ace Attorney Soulmate AU
Chapter Summary: This time, it's Edgeworth who refuses to get shut out.
Word Count: 1277
Rating: Teen
Pairing: pre-Wright/Edgeworth
Spoilers: spoilers for the fourth game

 

         Thanks to their bond, Edgeworth needs no phone call to determine that something has gone very, very wrong, between the burst of despair and the almost full block, all of a sudden. It might be hypocritical to complain about such a thing, given the years he’d been doing so with or without the aid of medication to do so, but he likes to think they’ve both moved past such...melodrama. The phone call, delayed by only a fraction, explains in detail the nature of Wright’s dilemma—absurd, foolish, to think he would stoop to something like forging evidence—and the fact that he isn’t answering any calls from Maya. “I thought he might talk to you, given the whole Linked situation and all,” she confides desperately, and his estimation of the girl—no, woman, at this point—rises rather significantly. He hadn’t thought Maya would be able to keep a secret of the sort, though perhaps her tastes in television shows should have clued him in as to the presence of hidden depths.
         A quick check finds that the same is true of himself. Not only does the man not answer when Miles rings him using the landline, Phoenix is doing his best imitation of the mental wall Edgeworth had been taught in his youth. What he lacks in practice and discipline, he makes up for in sheer stubbornness and determination. It’s clear that it’s not total—Miles is fairly certain that some of his own emotions, at the very least, are leaking through—but any success is tempered by the fact that Wright refuses to acknowledge any of it. No, it’s rather unlikely anything can be accomplished at this distance, but in the end, had Phoenix not done the same several years ago, essentially knocking until acknowledged? And had Miles himself not flown to Wright’s side even more recently still? The emergency was no less urgent because the injury was not physical.
         “I will do what I can, Miss Fey,” he tells her, endeavoring to be as reassuring as it’s possible for him, and he must be successful, because her voice is warm as she thanks him.
         As expected, Phoenix responds to nothing, and repeatedly attempting to get some sort of response is largely how Miles finds himself spending the flight and then drive. Miles knocks. The door opens, someone bearing only a vague resemblance to Wright stares at him for a second and not any length of time longer, and then it slams back shut. That went well.
         Hmph. Well, two can play at this sort of waiting game, and the flight was no aid in his mental state, given the vast amount of turbulence preventing any sort of rest or relaxation whatsoever, and he is naturally jet-lagged and hadn’t slept particularly well for a few nights besides.
         This is undignified. But he has already suffered more than one indignity because, as it happens, he can deny Phoenix Wright nothing. One more will hardly kill him. (Well, unless he happens to be murdered out here, outside Phoenix’s apartment, but some risks are worth taking.)
         He backs into the wall opposite and slides down, propping himself up in the most comfortable position he can (there...aren’t really any, not to mention that this feels uncomfortably similar to curling up and trying to stay out of the way as a child in a stalled elevator, though at this point he might be exhausted enough to avoid any usual nightmare), and promptly falls asleep.
         It’s the brief burst of terror that wakes him before hands are already on his wrist, and it’s only due to their Link that he’s aware those hands are seeking a pulse rather than anything more nefarious, or he would likewise panic. “I’m alive, Wright.” He’s groggy, his suit is no doubt in quite awful state, and the ground is by far the most uncomfortable place he’s ever slept, but he can bring himself to regret none of it. If his enunciation is so poor as to be unintelligible, at least he can take comfort in the fact that thanks to the Link, he needn’t worry about such things.
         “What the heck are you doing out here? You scared Trucy half to death,” Phoenix scolds him, ignoring the fact that he, too, had been greatly discomfited by the sight (admittedly, that had been half the point). He gives no indication as to whether his daughter was concerned about a dead body or his status as someone potentially dangerous, although knowing Wright, if she is anything like him, it’s probably the former and they both have ridiculously huge hearts.
         “My apologies. That hadn’t been my intention.” His voice is soft, befitting the early morning and hopefully not doing anything further to frighten the poor child. Scheiße, he needs at least a cup of tea, preferably black, and all Phoenix is likely to have is coffee. He may grudgingly have to face a morning without tea, but at the same time he is hardly going to leave.
         “And why not?” Phoenix asks, all bravado in his voice and doubts and uncertainty within. That’s cheating, you know.
         Ah, but it’s not cheating if it’s a tool we both have access to and you merely refuse to use everything at your disposal, Miles counters, even mentally waggling his finger, which at least happens to amuse. Still, perhaps it is better to continue this out loud, though it requires effort to do so. Or rather, because it requires effort to do so. “I am rather poor at showing it, but you have always deserved more than I was able to give.” He can’t help the yawn, leaning his head back against the wall.
         “So what, you’re going to just sweep in and make everything all right?” Phoenix sneers, and there’s that odd bitterness, growing more with each passing year.
         “Hardly.” No matter how he burns, how he longs to burn this whole web of injustice to the damn ground—
         Woah, that’s new—
         “Not as such. It’s merely...grown stronger over the years.” Fortunately, it seems that alone is enough to bring him a little more strength, despite another yawn. Returning to the original point, however… “I am no miracle-worker. I am not a particularly good man. I may spend my entire life making up for the injustice I have already introduced to the courts in the name of righteousness. To put it plainly, if this same thing had happened to Larry, I wouldn’t lift a single finger in aid. However, I have always made exceptions for you, and I do not intend to change that habit at this juncture. And no, before your self-pity can claim otherwise, it is not solely out of a sense of obligation. Our lives are far too entangled to extricate ourselves after all this time. I admit, I have my own opinions on what has transpired, but I do not presume to dictate your life, simply offer a helping hand. You, of course, dictate the terms, but you cannot turn me away entirely, can you?”
         It is, as Phoenix might note, a bluff, but a well-founded one, and, as all (many, the man points out, Miles inclining his head slightly in acknowledgment) of a certain defense attorney’s (ex-defense attorney, comes the second correction) bluffs, it pays off. Even as the scruffy man feels and then hides the shock at realizing Miles had been fully willing to brave a restraining order on the off-chance he could help.
         “Could you have been less theatrical about it, though?” Phoenix asks quietly, helping Edgeworth up, and doesn’t press for a response when a single raised eyebrow is more than answer enough.