Chapter Text
Miles wondered if calling Franzeska would help at all. She’d likely call him a ‘foolish fool who was spouting nonsense.’ Was there someone he’d wronged to whom he needed to apologize? Was there a spirit out there punishing him with bad karma for something he’d done in the past?
Or was it as simple as confessing his feelings to Phoenix Wright?
Miles flushed. Surely not.
As he settled into his hotel bed, he lay his glasses askew on the nightstand. It was becoming habitual. He vowed that he would keep track of how many days this happened. That information may be important later. Hell, any information may be important later. Rolling onto his side, Miles curled up under the warmth of the comforter. At least he’d be repeating a nightmare-less day where he got a decent amount of rest.
----
“I’m glad you decided to stop by. Actually, I have something to ask you.”
Miles rubbed at his arm. “Oh?”
“It’s gonna sound a little weird to you, probably,” Wright explained as he rubbed at the back of his neck, tousling the spikes. “But today is actually Larry’s birthday. He and I are gonna go out for drinks tonight and we thought it’d be nice if you’d tag along.”
Miles nodded easily. “Very well.”
“Oh.” Wright looked down at Maya, blinking before he smiled in surprise. “That was easier than I thought.”
“I wanna go, too!” Maya griped, puffing her cheeks.
Wright pushed at her playfully. “When you’re older, kid.”
Miles was not affected by the exchange this time around. “When and where?”
“Oh,” Wright said again, turning his attention back to the prosecutor. “Tonight at eight at The Red Room. It’s on--”
“6th street,” Miles finished.
Wright tilted his head. “You’ve heard of it.” He smiled oddly. “You’re full of surprises today, Edgeworth.”
“Yes, well,” Miles huffed, forcing the cynicism from his tone, “I know a lot of places downtown. I’ll be there.”
“Great!”
----
Larry had left the bar. Miles was regrettably a bit used to the bar stools this time.
“So, want a drink? I’ll buy.”
Miles was less snippy this time, merely shaking his head. “That’s all right. I’ll buy.” He flagged down the bartender. “A vodka soda and a Rum and Coke, please.”
Wright sat in stunned silence before shaking his head in disbelief. “You know my drink order?”
“Lucky guess, I suppose.”
“No… no, that’s not it.” Wright searched Miles’ face, eyebrows drawing inward. “There’s… something off about you today.”
Even without an explanation, Wright had noticed?
Miles tongued the inside of his cheek nervously, the bartender bringing them their drinks. He faced Wright with a sigh. “There… is,” he admitted.
“And what is that?”
“What do you think?” he retorted. He was curious as to what sort of conclusion the attorney would draw without conclusive evidence.
Wright’s stare remained weirdly stern. “You… you knew that this bar--that is definitely not your style--was on 6th street. This is an area that’s not anywhere near your office or the Gatewater. And you knew what drink I liked and ordered it without hesitation. You also didn’t seem very surprised that I’d invited you here, almost like… you were expecting it.”
Miles smiled a bit fondly. Phoenix Wright was something else.
“Well,” he finally said, taking a sip of his drink, “you’re right.”
“I don’t under--”
“I’ve already explained this to you before. But you don’t remember. You never will.” Miles stared at his drink, swirled it around. “It doesn’t matter what happens because it’s going to happen again. And again. And again.”
His voice was monotone, so foreign to his own ears. He usually spoke with passion, with conviction. He fought to hide unwanted emotions when he needed to, but right now… he didn’t really feel anything. Just exhaustion, perhaps.
“Edgeworth, are you… are you being serious?”
Miles raised a brow at the other man, uncertain of what he was asking.
“You’re…” Wright’s eyes darted between both of his, and his throat bobbed with a tense swallow, “...you’re stuck? In time?”
Miles’ eyes widened. Did Wright really believe him? So easily?
There was no harm in lying at this point. He shrugged uncomfortably. “Yes.”
“That’s why…” Wright trailed off, rubbing at his chin as his gaze drifted to the bar counter pensively. “...you knew all that stuff. That’s why you look so… done.”
That was a good way to put it. “I’m on the fifth loop today. It’s already getting old.”
Wright blinked. “Does the same thing happen every loop?”
Miles set his glass down. “There are variations. This is only the second time I came to the bar. At first, I thought coming here was the reason I got stuck. But I don’t think that’s the case anymore.”
“Not that I… don’t trust you, Miles, but do you have any real proof that--”
“You’re going to Long Beach tomorrow to meet your mother, isn’t that right?”
Wright’s eyes had turned to round saucers.
“What else do you know?”
“Not much.” Miles decided to save Wright the embarrassment.
“Wow,” the dark-haired man breathed. “Sorry, this is just… a lot to take in.”
“Take your time.”
“You must…” Wright’s expression softened. “You must be so tired, Miles.”
Miles hesitantly met Wright’s gaze. “I… cannot afford to be, Wright. I need to keep trying to find a way out of this. I need to stop it.”
The warmth of Wright’s hand cupped his shoulder, offering a reassuring squeeze. “Miles… no matter what happens, no matter how many times…”
Miles was entirely sober as he surrendered to his body’s reflex, crossing an arm over his chest in order to lay his hand over Wright’s. “...you’ll always believe me. I know.”
Wright flushed, tentatively puling his hand back. “I told you that already?”
Miles found the reaction endearing, and he couldn’t fight the natural smile that curled his lips up. Despite it all, this man still made him see the positive in this situation. “Yes. Twice. This was the third. However, it’s not even the truth.”
“What?!”
“You didn’t believe me the first time I told you about the visit to your mother’s, even though that was the information you specifically gave me in order to remind you in future loops,” Miles smirked.
Wright stammered in vain. “B-but… why wouldn’t I?”
“Probably because I said it without explaining the situation thoroughly beforehand. You accused me of stalking you.”
At that information, Wright barked out an embarrassed laugh. “Oh god. I’m a mess.”
A very handsome mess, Miles’ thoughts unconsciously corrected.
“Then… how did you convince me the first time?”
Miles rolled his eyes without restraint. “You told me not to tell you this again, but you’re the one asking, so,” he shot Wright a pointed look, “you told me how you lost your virginity the first time we came to this bar and I used the knowledge of that story to convince you.”
Slowly, a blush crept over the expanse of Wright’s cheeks. Miles could get used to this, actually.
“O-oh.”
“No need to be embarrassed,” Miles said before finishing his drink, waving the bartender over for another. Wright had not yet touched his own drink. “Now that I’ve had some time to think on it, I’ve decided it isn’t that bad.”
Wright groaned regardless, folding his arms over the bar counter to bury his face in them. “God. You’re the last person I’d want to know about that… why the hell would I tell you in the first place?!”
Miles took another easy drink, snorting at Wright’s adorably mortified reactions. “You were quite drunk the first time.”
“Shit,” Wright muttered, straightening up again. His face was still pretty red. “Well, I’m… I’m sorry you had to hear about it.”
“No matter,” Miles chuckled. “Have a drink, Wright. If you’re going to spend your evening in a bar, you may as well have some fun.”
“And tell you more embarrassing things you’ll blackmail me with?”
Miles chuckled again, warmly. “It could come in handy later.”
----
The pair talked just as they had the first time at the bar, spending their night reminiscing. This time was… more compassionate, though, somehow. They stayed later, and no envious awkwardness was present. In no time, the clock was nearing eleven-thirty, and Miles grew anxious, reluctant to let this version of the loop go.
They made their way out of the bar, the air refreshing as they stepped outside. The city lights illuminated the night, and the bustle of the ever-present traffic kept it from falling silent despite the late hour.
Wright put his hands in his pockets and smiled. “Let’s take a walk?”
Although expecting it, Miles didn’t think he could tire of that. He smiled back, walking alongside his friend leisurely in wordless agreement.
“I had a great time tonight. It’d be a shame to just erase it from existence.”
Miles chuckled dimly. The alcohol provided a delightful buzz within his veins. “I wonder if that’s what happens, though.”
“Huh?”
“What if… what if every time I start over, I leave another reality behind? Another… timeline,” he clarified. “And those timelines keep going, and that Miles Edgeworth has to live with whatever he did that day.”
Wright was stupified by that possibility. “Oh, wow. That’s… deep. And troubling.”
“I hope that isn’t the case. It’s a depressing thought.”
A silence fell over the two as they walked, their steps leading them to one of the nearby city parks. It was small and abandoned at the late hour, probably because it had closed at sundown. Wright kept heading toward it anyway. Miles didn’t protest, knowing that there would be no repercussions even if they were caught.
“Edgeworth,” Wright called as he sat on a swing. Miles stood next to him, gesturing for the man to elaborate.
Wright rocked gently in the swing. “It’s two till.”
Miles withdrew his phone from his pocket and saw the illuminated numbers ‘11:58PM’ stare back at him.
“So it is,” he sighed.
Apprehensively, Wright stood up, pacing in the mulch. He then turned to Miles, taking a full step forward to close the distance between them. Miles gasped, not expecting the proximity. This close, he could feel Wright’s comforting warmth, smell his musky cologne…
“If… if it’s just going to start over, then…” He bit into his lip, round eyes searching Miles’. Miles’ eyes were most likely filled with alarm, though, not providing any consolation. His heartbeat rang insistently in his ears, reminding him this was a danger zone from which he needed to desperately escape.
He made no move to push Wright away, though.
Rooted to the ground, he cleared his throat. “Then?” he prompted boldly in a low voice.
Wright smashed their lips together, and his fingers clung to Miles’ shoulders. His grip was almost tight enough to be bruising, and he tasted like Rum. The action elicited another gasp from Miles, this one of pleasant surprise, as his arms wound instinctively around the other man’s waist, guiding him closer, getting a better taste of--
Miles stared up at the ceiling. He looked to his right and saw his glasses sitting neatly alongside his book.
Turning over to stuff his face into his pillow, he released a muffled howl of frustration.
----
Despite the predictability of the day, Miles had quite a hard time facing Phoenix Wright that afternoon. He stopped by the courthouse as usual and ran into the defense attorney and Maya for the sixth time.
He didn’t approach them this time; they actually spotted him first.
“Edgeworth! What brings you here?”
Miles rubbed his arm, averting his gaze. “I… actually came to ask you something, Wright.”
“Oh, really?” the other man blinked. “What’s that?”
Last night, you kissed me. You were drunk, but you still did it. You did it because you knew there wouldn’t be any consequences. Now it’s my turn, Miles decided, inwardly pep-talking himself. The fact that Phoenix had been the one to kiss him… he couldn’t have dreamed of that scenario in a million years, but apparently, the opportunity was as close as an evening away.
And Miles had as many tries as he wanted to get it just right, if he so desired.
“I wanted to ask you to dinner,” Miles said with forced confidence, keeping his expression expertly neutral.
Wright blinked again, then went red and stammered out a nonsensical reply. Miles tried not to take too much enjoyment from it. Maya had perked up, her jaw hanging loose.
“Like a date?” she asked incredulously.
Miles didn’t budge. “Yes.”
It took Wright about fifteen more seconds to form a clear thought. When he did, it was with feeble disbelief, “Wh-why all of a sudden? I… didn’t know that you felt this way about--”
“A simple yes or no will do,” Miles huffed.
Wright stood perfect-postured, as if any wrong movement would turn the prosecutor away. “Y-yes!”
Maya giggled almost maniacally beside him. “Is this seriously happening?” she asked to the air, as though addressing God.
“Uh, but…” Wright winced. “It’s actually Larry’s birthday… he invited us to a bar tonight to celebrate…”
“Perhaps we can get together for an early dinner, then head to the bar afterward?”
Wright nodded slowly, still comprehending. “Uh, sure. I just have to grab the rest of my stuff.”
“Very well,” Miles nodded back. “I will make the arrangements.” He already had made reservations that morning in preparation for this. “Meet me outside when you are finished up here. We’ll go to a place downtown so it’s close to the bar.” With those parting words, he headed outside, walking away from the duo so as to hide his knowing smile.
In the lobby, Wright and Maya shared looks of sheer wonder. “How did he know the bar was downtown?”
Maya shrugged. “Who cares? You got a date! With Mister Edgeworth! Score!”
----
Wright sat in the passenger seat of Miles’ sportscar, fidgeting awkwardly the entire ride to the restaurant.
“Edgeworth?” Wright finally spoke, after about five minutes of a silent car ride, save for the quiet sound of the radio.
“Hm?”
“What… why did you… ask me out?” Wright wondered, as if asking the question physically hurt.
Miles glanced at the defense attorney, smiling lightly. “Because I wanted to. Must I have a profound reason?”
“I… I guess not,” Wright looked down at his lap. “But… what’s gotten into you? You seem so… different?”
Miles shrugged. “I guess you could say I want to try new things. This is something I’ve wanted to do for a long time,” he admitted, shocking himself at how easily he’d said it. This was all just a game, though. And once reset was automatically hit at midnight, Wright would forget everything he’d said.
It felt wrong, almost, to play with his feelings like this, manipulate the situation. But, somehow, the darkest, most selfish part of Miles enjoyed the power. He had total control at last. He could predict what Wright was going to do and say for once in his life. And if he couldn’t, well… he could just try again.
Wright’s voice turned breathy. “Really?”
“Yes,” Miles nodded, voice wavering slightly this time.
When he offered no further elaboration, Wright fell quiet again. Miles parked his car outside of the restaurant--an upscale seafood place downtown--pausing as he angled himself toward the other man. “Shall we?”
Wright nodded, then finally smiled genuinely for the first time tonight. “Yeah.”
Their meal was a little tense at first, but as the night progressed, they unwound into carefree conversation. Miles could practically see Wright salivate when the lobster was served, and he chuckled at the man’s reaction, happy to spoil him a little.
Wright’s phone vibrated in his pocket, and he pulled it out, eyes scanning over the text he’d presumably just received. “Oh. Looks like Larry went to the bar early. He apparently met a girl and went home with her.”
Miles could see the redheaded girl in his mind’s eye. “Is that so?”
“Yeah… guess that means we have more time to spend here.” After putting his phone away, Wright went back to eating with a newfound jubilance; he seemed quite relived at the turn of events.
Miles took a sip of his wine coolly. It tasted so much more refined than the vodka soda he’d endured the night before. “Perfect.”
“Edgeworth, you know, I…” Wright directed his gaze downward as he stabbed a small, seasoned broccoli crown with his fork, “I’ve never… been with a man before.”
Miles gulped, greedily relieved. “That’s all right. Neither have I.”
“Do you… have a preference?” Wright pried gently.
The prosecutor idly swirled his wine. “Yes,” he confessed. “I always knew. I just… never acted on it, I suppose. I never had someone I desired enough to do anything about it.”
He peeked at the dark-haired man aversely. Wright flushed at the implication in his words.
“I… I see.”
Miles remained silent, waiting for more information to gather.
“I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about you like that, too.”
Miles’ fingers twitched around his glass. That was just what he wanted to hear. Without much warning, Wright looked all too innocent. His eyes were a bit wide as he stared down at his half-eaten plate of food. He kept squirming in his seat, readjusting the thick cloth that lay over his lap, doing everything in his power not to meet the prosecutor’s gaze.
Miles’ desire was growing a bit out of hand. He hadn’t expected to want Wright this much. To hear the man of his dreams confess something like that was more than overwhelming, to say the least. Regardless of the cultivated atmosphere, Miles wanted nothing more than to grab Wright by his stupid red tie and force their mouths together.
(He most likely could without consequence, but still.)
Miles pushed his plate back and stood with adamant resolution. “Let’s go, Wright.”
“S-so soon?” Wright stumbled to his feet regardless. Miles dragged him by his arm out to the car. The night was the same as ever, perfectly comfortable, low humidity, the sky’s stars barely visible above the city’s blinding lights.
They reached his car in the roofed parking garage next to the restaurant. Once inside, Miles started it, but didn’t turn on his headlights. He fixed Wright with a hungry stare, throat clicking. He felt almost.. thirsty for Wright--if he didn’t have him now, his craving would never be satisfied.
“Miles?” Wright tried timidly. “What’s… what’s wrong?”
“You’re what’s wrong.” Miles reached over the middle console, hesitating briefly before he laid a hand on Wright’s thigh. The latter’s muscles tensed noticeably beneath the contact. A look of confusion, want, and terror crossed through Wright’s eyes all at once.
“Don’t you think we should… talk about this?”
Miles leaned closer. “Not particularly.” His eyes were dead-set on Wright’s lips.
Wright wet them with his tongue, anxious. “Miles, it isn’t… we shouldn’t…”
Miles wanted Wright to just shut up. Daringly, he tilted his head, lips pressing firmly to the other man’s. Wright muffled a noise of protest against him, hands lifting up to push against his chest. His struggle was weak, however, and within seconds, his fingers had curled into Miles’ lapels, forcing him closer.
Their tongues met bashfully, testing the waters. Miles felt pent-up passion spilling out of him all at once, and his kisses became more heated by the second, his hands raking through the spikey,--yet somehow incredibly soft--dark hair of the other man. It was all too short-lived, though, as Wright was pulling away moments later.
He was panting, and Miles’ eyes darted down, pupils blown as his gaze settled on a string of saliva between them, connecting their lips. It felt so dirty, so hot. Miles didn’t know what primal instincts had conquered his normal way of thinking. This time loop was quite possibly driving him insane.
“W-wait, Miles,” Wright breathed, red-faced and unkempt and gorgeous. “I think we should talk about--”
“I don’t want to,” snapped Miles.
“Why--why’re you being like this?” Wright became more coherent, raising his voice slightly in the cramped space of the car.
Miles didn’t want to let this go. He needed to have Wright. If he didn’t, he’d have to do it all over again, go through the motions to get the defense attorney to this point--
He tried to lean over again. Wright pushed him back pointedly, insult in his face. “Miles.”
Miles clenched his fists. “What?”
“You’re… different. What’s wrong? Why won’t you tell me what’s wrong? You’re acting like a different person!”
Miles’ chest constricted at the words. He was hurting Wright. He needed to stop.
But he couldn’t.
“Why could you do it with Dahlia?”
“What…” Wright’s expression became guarded. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Miles pressed on, nonexistent consequences be damned. “You would fuck that crazy girl in a car, but not me?”
The question clung to the air of the car, and although muted, Miles felt like it kept echoing over and over again. He regretted it the moment he said it. He regretted it before he’d said it. But he needed to see what Wright’s reaction would be. He needed the sadistic fulfilment.
“How do you know about that?” Wright asked lowly, eyes narrowed.
Miles didn’t answer. He wasn’t sure how he could. If he told the other man the truth now, he was sure to be called crazy.
When no explanation came, Wright scoffed, running an anxious hand through his disheveled hair. “I don’t believe this. I don’t even know who you are.”
He sounded… scared. Betrayed.
Miles squeezed his eyes shut. This was all he was really good for. Betraying Phoenix Wright.
Wright opened the passenger door, stepping out. He didn’t spare a glance back as he slammed it shut. Miles decided he deserved that, watching the attorney walk away without objection.
He sat in his car for another few hours, wasting his time, listening absently to a late-night radio show. What did it matter? There was no time to waste. He’d gain it back in the blink of an eye, so why spend time worrying?
He watched the numbers on his dashboard clock. They showed ‘11:59PM.’
In the next minute, Miles was in his bed.
He’d never been happier to see his glasses perfectly aligned with his book.
----
Miles began to avoid meeting Wright after that. He tried different tactics. He stayed cooped inside his office until evening, going through the documents Gumshoe had dropped off, perfecting each and every piece of evidence he was to use in court next week. He only left at sundown, but didn’t drive immediately home. Instead, Miles drove to the beach in an attempt to clear his thoughts. He didn’t necessarily like the beach, but he was feeling very… uncharacteristic, to say the least. He needed to do something different, anything to tip the scales of time back to their natural balance.
But his attempts were to no avail.
Miles woke up to the very same morning the next day. And the day after that.
And the day after that.
By the thirty-second day, Miles was beginning to memorize the natural flow of the particular day in which he was stuck. He knew when he’d hear the honk of a car outside while walking into work, or when he’d see the leaf of a tree fall.
He was unnervingly aware of this. He was not supposed to know these things. He was not God.
Miles hated not having control, but now… all he wanted was fluctuation and uncertainty. It was not right to go into the day knowing exactly what was to happen. It wasn’t natural.
On day forty-nine, Miles wanted to do something he hadn’t thought about doing in a long time.
He had spent over a month in this one, stupid day and he was getting desperate. Despite what happened the day before, Miles never woke up with any side effects. He was truly returning to the morning prior every single night at midnight. Even if he spent the whole day hunched over at his desk, falling asleep with an aching back, he would still awake to a perfectly healthy one, his muscles magically relieved of the tension.
Miles wouldn’t bother leaving a note. He tried to choose the easiest way to go about doing it. He didn’t want anything too time-consuming.
He considered overdose. Or perhaps just a clean shot to his temple.
As he pictured it, his heartbeat stuttered.
Leaning back in the armchair of his office, Miles ran a shaky hand through his hair. His bangs fell back into place, half-concealing his vision. He stared at his desk with wide eyes.
Really? After all this, you’re going to be a coward about it?
But, what if I don’t come back? he fought with himself.
His mouth felt dry. Tears sprung to the backs of his eyes, fingers numbly clenching into fists on his lap.
Phoenix.
You’re going to leave him like this?
Wiping a sleeve over his eyes, Miles shook his head, as if disagreeing with his thoughts. If dying broke the loop, there was no way to predict whether or not Miles would stay dead.
He couldn’t risk it.
Forty-nine days. Thirty of which were spent in a situation alone with Phoenix Wright. Eight of which involved kissing said man.
(Miles was determined to keep track of those things, too.)
For the first time in forty-eight days, Miles jumped at the sound of a knock on his door.
“Mister Edgeworth, sir!”
You can’t give up now. You’ve gone through nearly fifty days of this shit.
When no response came, Gumshoe tried again. “Sir?”
Miles couldn’t find his voice. Gumshoe peeked tentatively inside, hurrying in when he saw the prosecutor’s distraught state. “Sir! What’s wrong?”
Miles stood from his chair, taking a trembling, but courageous, breath. “There’s something I need to tell you, Gumshoe.”
----
“A time loop. Huh.”
Miles was sitting in his chair again, feeling physically tired despite his well-rested body. “Do you believe me?”
“Completely, sir!” Gumshoe saluted his boss with more fervor than necessary. “It… it sounds crazy, sir, but I completely believe you. I think we should go to Wright,” he suggested, rubbing at his chin. “He has an interesting way of thinking. Maybe if you tell him what happened thus far, he can help you think of a way to fix it.”
“I know,” Miles said on autopilot, standing up and tearing his cravat from his neck. He tossed his suit jacket aside, rolling his shoulders and popping his neck. “That thing is fucking uncomfortable to wear for fifty days straight.”
Gumshoe wore a floored expression. “F-fifty days, sir?”
“Forty-nine,” Miles revised, nodding at the detective to follow him as he exited the office. Gumshoe readily stumbled after him.
They drove to the courthouse where they waited for Wright. When the defense attorney and Maya left the courtroom after their celebration, Miles frowned gravely.
“Phoenix Wright!”
His voice echoed through the lobby. All eyes turned to the prosecutor.
“Is that… Miles Edgeworth?”
“The infamous demon prosecutor?”
“Why does he look like that? It’s kind of scary…”
Voices chattered, gossiping in hushed tones, but Miles didn’t budge. He stood stubbornly, arms akimbo, eyes locked on Wright. Wright stared back like a deer caught in headlights.
“Edgeworth?” he finally asked, as if unsure that was really the man who had addressed him.
“The cafe down the street, let’s go,” Miles beckoned him. “Now.”
----
“So, you’re on day forty-nine now, right?” Wright asked for confirmation.
Miles nodded. He was drinking a caramel macchiato. It was sickeningly sweet. The other three stared at the drink as if it had sprouted arms and legs.
“Sir, I thought you… hated that kind of stuff. You said it ruins coffee,” Gumshoe noticed quietly.
Miles slurped the drink through his straw noisily. “I’ve grown somewhat tired of tea and black coffee. I won’t get any of the calories, anyway.”
Wright, Gumshoe, and Maya shared looks of pure astonishment. Maya shook her head, bringing the conversation back around. “So, you don’t know what’s causing this time loop?”
“No, obviously,” Miles answered. “Everything is always the same. Even if I interact with situations, change my schedule, it all starts the very same way.” Miles paused, setting his drink down, staring unwaveringly at the whipped cream that topped it. “Today was different, though.”
“How so?” asked Wright curiously.
“This morning I woke up with… with the intention of killing myself,” Miles admitted.
He heard Wright gasp in horror. “Miles…”
“I don’t know what to do,” Miles continued hastily. “I’m so sick of this damned day. I am sick of knowing what’s going to happen. I need… I need something different. I need life to go on,” he said with desperation, searching Wright’s face. He felt like he might cry again, looking into those concerned, bright blue eyes. “Phoenix, you… there must be something else. Something I’m missing. I feel like you’re the only one who can help me figure out what it is.”
Wright’s brows turned up hopelessly. “Miles…”
“I have an idea,” Maya softly announced.
Everyone at the table looked to her. She fidgeted in her seat before looking at Miles seriously. “I think you should talk to my sister.”
Miles raised his eyebrows. In all of his loops, Miss Fey had never brought up the idea of talking with… the other Miss Fey. He knew it was possible, but he wondered if it would really do any good. What could Mia Fey say to make this better? She hadn’t been here. She didn’t know the half of it.
“I… think that’s a good idea,” Wright said slowly. “Mia has gotten me out of many bad situations. If anyone can fix this, it’s her.”
Miles chewed his lip, nodding with finality. “Very well,” he whispered. “I am willing to try anything.”
----
That evening, Maya knelt on the floor of Wright’s office. Gumshoe, Miles, and Wright gave her space as she focused on channeling her sister.
While waiting, Miles considered what he would say to Mia. They weren’t exactly on great terms the last time he’d seen her. He wondered if bitterness would get in the way of aiding him in his strange request for help.
Within a few minutes, the younger Miss Fey had vanished. She was still here, but… that certainly wasn’t her face or her body. She now looked a great deal more mature. Her hair was dark, like Maya Fey’s, but her face had aged into one less youthful and a little wiser.
“Chief,” Wright murmured from behind Miles. It was in acknowledgement of the new presence, but his voice held traces of wonder. Miles was involuntarily a bit jealous.
“Phoenix,” she greeted, smiling fondly. Her gaze shifted to Miles, and her smile changed a bit. It became more… amused, almost?
Miles felt like he was being mocked.
“Mister Edgeworth… we finally meet.”
“What exactly do you mean by that, Miss Fey?”
“I know what you’ve been going through.”
Well, that shocked Miles a bit. “You do?” he asked, doubtful.
“Well, I’m not alive,” Mia clarified. “Earth’s concept of ‘time’ doesn’t really apply to me. And Maya explained your situation. It’s definitely a tough one,” she decided, folding her arms over her chest.
Miles deflated. He wasn’t sure the two of them would get anywhere, but he would try nonetheless. “Yes, precisely. Have you any advice?”
Mia tilted her head, still smiling. “Have you tried doing what Phoenix does?”
Miles glanced reflexively at the defense attorney, who looked just as confused. “Huh?”
“Turn your thinking around.”
Phoenix smiled back at his former boss. “You’re the one who taught me that, though, Chief.”
Mia shook her head, laughing softly. “Mister Edgeworth,” she caught his attention again. “What do you feel like needs to be done?”
“I… that’s what I’m trying to figure out!”
“And?”
“I… I don’t know. I have tried nearly everything.” Miles remembered what he’d done thus far. The only thing that he hadn’t the courage to try is suicide, but that couldn’t be the answer, could it? If the world went on without him, what was the point?
He’d very clearly let Wright know his feelings. He’d finished working on his documents. He’d tried living an ordinary day. He’d tried living a completely off-the-wall day. Nothing had worked.
“Have you tried… the opposite of trying?”
Miles frowned. “What are you proposing? Doing nothing?”
Mia shrugged a shoulder, tucking a lock of dark hair behind one of her ears.
At the vague response, Miles shook his head dismissively. “I have tried not coming to work. I spent one of the loops just laying in bed all day to see if doing literally nothing would solve it.”
Mia just kept staring at him, smiling encouragingly.
After a moment, Miles’ eyes widened.
That was it.
Do nothing.
Relax.
He held his breath, balling his hands into fists. “...I know what I need to do.”
“You do?!” Wright seemed baffled at how quickly Miles had reached a conclusion.
“Yes.” He turned to Wright suddenly. “Wright, I need to use your computer.”
“O-okay,” Wright nodded, scurrying over to his desk to boot up his PC.
Mia offered one last smile to Miles before she retreated back to wherever she now dwelled. Miles hoped it was a calm, happy place. He got a chance to nod at her in thanks, cracking a smile of his own before the younger Fey sister was present once again, slumping to the floor in an exhausted heap.
Miles stepped toward her, crouching down and laying a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Miss Fey? Are you all right?”
The spirit medium smiled weakly up at him, nodding. “Yeah, I’m good. Did Mia help?”
Miles chuckled, bittersweet. “Absolutely. Thank you, Maya.”
----
Miles sat in Wright’s swivel chair, the other thee huddled behind him, watching in anticipation as the prosecutor tapped away on the keyboard.
“Maui?” Wright wondered, eyebrows scrunched in confusion as he looked at the computer screen.
Miles took in a deep breath. He scrolled through a booking page, filling out his personal information.
“A… vacation?” Gumshoe finally asked.
“Exactly,” Miles replied.
Realization dawned on the detective. “You’re… taking my advice?!”
Miles nodded distractedly, more focused on clicking through the website, making sure everything was accurate. Maya hung herself over the back of the chair, jiggling it insistently. “Mister Edgeworth!” she called. “It’s almost midnight!”
“Not today,” Miles muttered through grit teeth. He’d pulled his wallet out, looking between the screen and his credit card as he entered his information. He quickly clicked the blue “Book Now!” button for the condo in Maui he’d been preparing to rent, holding his breath.
A confirmation screen popped up. It felt like the longest minute of his life was ticking by. His eyes latched onto the computer’s digital clock. In one frame, it switched to ‘12:00AM.’
Miles reached up to slap his hands to his face. “Am I here?”
He felt Wright’s hand pat his head, confirming. “Yeah, you’re here.”
Miles turned around in the chair, looking at the other three with big eyes. “I’m… here. It’s tomorrow.”
Wright looked emotional. Miles thought he saw tears lining his eyes, reflecting beautifully in the dim light of his office.
“No, Miles.” He reached out, knuckles gently brushing the prosecutor’s cheek, as if proving to himself he was truly there. He smiled lightly. “It’s today.”
Miles laughed quietly, shaking his head in disbelief. “It’s all thanks to Team Time Travelers.”
Maya blinked at Miles, pursing her lips. “That has a pretty nice ring to it.”
----
As the group filed outside Wright’s law office, Maya yawned, stretching out her arms. “I’m beat.”
Wright snorted dully. “How do you think Edgeworth feels?”
“I feel… quite refreshed, actually,” Miles declared, taking a breath in of the clean summer night. It felt the same as yesterday, but somehow, so different.
Wright’s lips tipped up halfway. “I’ll bet.”
“C’mon, pals, I’ll help ya home!” Gumshoe offered to Wright and Maya. Wright shook his head, nudging at his assistant.
“You go ahead, Maya, it’s late. I’ll catch up with you tomorrow.”
Despite the foreseeable circumstances, Miles found himself shuffling a bit nervously, squeezing at his elbow as Gumshoe and Maya boarded into the car, leaving the defense attorney and prosecutor alone.
Only after they drove away did Wright finally address him. “So,” he began, hands shoved into his suit pockets. “Exactly how much do you know about me?”
Miles, for the first time in a while, did not know what to say. He didn’t want to ruin this reality, taint it with foolish answers and mistakes.
The more he thought about it, though, the more he cherished it.
Life wasn’t supposed to be predictable. Neither were people, especially Phoenix Wright. Hell, Miles had been living the same day forty-nine times in a row, and he still managed to find himself surprised by the antics, the care, the affection the attorney had shown him loop after loop.
“You’re assuming I chose to spend every loop with you?” Miles retorted, a playful smile lifting the corners of his lips. “Don’t flatter yourself, Wright.”
They began to walk alongside each other at a relaxed pace, Wright offering an amused chuckle. “Well, you must have learned something about me, right? All those loops and you retained no new information about your opponent? Here I was, thinking you’d used it in your favor to gather blackmail material.”
Miles felt comfortable enough to jab Wright with his elbow, earning him a charmingly genuine laugh. “What? Am I wrong?”
Miles considered it. “It wasn’t about blackmail,” he admitted, turning his gaze to the sky. He couldn’t see the stars very well, not like he could out on the beach. “It was simply… because I wanted to.”
Wright scrutinized him on his left. “And why is that?”
Miles had learned his lesson about not telling the truth. Evidently, the universe really wanted him to enjoy himself and take the vacation he’d been craving for years. Perhaps it also wanted him to suffer a bit. It was too risky to try beating around the bush again.
“Because I like spending time with you.”
A long silence followed. Miles didn’t dare look at the other man; his eyes remained devoted to observing the stars, no matter how far and indistinct they looked.
Wright stopped walking. Miles stopped, a bit delayed, giving into the temptation to face Wright.
He wore a triumphant grin, but it was gentle at the edges.
“The loops have made you honest,” he noted.
Miles folded his arms. “Yes, well. No sense in lying,” he decided with a curt nod, hoping to radiate a more professional air. He knew that the warmth in his cheeks was betraying him, though.
Wright’s smile softened further. “Would you like to… have dinner sometime? After your vacation, of course.”
Miles straightened his posture, unable to conceal the tender smile that slid onto his face.
“I thought you’d never ask.”
----
Miles woke up the next morning, finding that his glasses had slid off his nightstand during his slumber. The lenses were cracked beyond repair.
Miles picked them up, then laughed gently, holding them protectively against his chest.