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Miles found out about Phoenix’s predicament through Mia of all people, and the indignity of that discovery upset him almost as much as the discovery himself. He and Phoenix were close—he liked to think they were close, at least, though Phoenix had been a little less easy to spend time with over the course of the last six months. And to find out that the reason for Phoenix’s elusiveness when it came to scheduling weekly dinners had to do with his serious girlfriend that Miles had apparently known absolutely nothing about was—
“—Miles?” said his father, who was aggravatingly good at reading Miles’s expressions. “Though I understand that this information about Phoenix may be somewhat surprising, I think that our primary focus should shift towards helping him out of the sticky situation he has found himself in.”
“What he’s saying,” said Mia Fey, who was also aggravatingly good at reading Miles’s expressions, “is that you’re going to need your head in the game if you’re defending Phoenix in this murder trial.”
The full situation finally caught up to Miles. Doing his best to ignore the loud voice in his head yelling PHOENIX WRIGHT IS DATING SOMEONE THAT IS NOT YOU, he said thinly, “Pardon my state of distraction, Mia, but if I’m not mistaken, aren’t you the defense attorney taking Phoenix’s case? I’ve still got a few months before I take the bar exam.”
“Exactly,” said Mia firmly. “Which is why you’re coming with. It’s going to be good practice and you’re the one who actually knows Phoenix.”
“Father,” said Miles indignantly, turning towards his father (who had the audacity to look amused at his predicament, how dare he), “if I am not mistaken, this is Edgeworth Law Offices, is it not? And it is Gregory Edgeworth who is to assign me the cases I shadow defense attorneys on, is it not?”
“A bit out of character for you to so vehemently protest the concept of seeing Phoenix,” said his father with some surprise. “Especially when he is in such dire straits. Does this perhaps have anything to do with—”
“HOW STRANGE, I’VE GONE INEXPLICABLY DEAF,” said Miles at the top of his lungs, knocking an important-looking file folder off of Mia’s desk. “AND LOOK, I’VE ALSO MADE A MESS. LET’S TALK ABOUT MY BLATANT UNPROFESSIONALISM AND CERTAINLY NOT TALK ABOUT ANYTHING ELSE.”
This was perhaps not one of Miles’s most skilled cover-ups.
“Okay, I feel like I’m really missing something here,” said Mia, frowning a little as she surveyed Miles (who was well aware of his misstep but could not stop thinking about Phoenix Wright’s apparent girlfriend). “Mr. Edgeworth, am I missing something here?”
“W-what?” said Miles’s father, who had a look of dawning comprehension on his face. Miles, who knew that lying was not his father’s strong suit, winced, hiding his face behind one of the file folders he’d snatched up off the floor. “Oh—um, I-I don’t think so, Mia. Not a single reason I can think of that Miles might be so upset over Phoenix’s new girlfriend.”
And there it was. “Father!” said Miles, mortified.
“Ohhh,” said Mia knowingly. “It’s one of those. Listen, champ—”
“Mia, you are three years older than me, do not act as though you are some sort of romantic expert!” said Miles waspishly, color rising to his cheeks. “The fact of the matter is that Phoenix Wright has a girlfriend and that’s fine and he is aggressively heterosexual and always has been and that is also fine and I don’t know why everyone is asking me so many questions about my feelings on the matter when I am trying to remove myself from a difficult situation!”
He had begun to shout by the end of his incensed tirade, and felt more than a little ridiculous about it—especially since neither Mia nor his father looked particularly alarmed by this. If anything, his father’s face had softened—and Mia looked almost sympathetic. “Look, Miles, if you don’t want to talk to Phoenix about his new girlfriend, I understand,” she said. “But the fact remains that he really would benefit from you being on the defense team, and you know it.”
Slumping back against Mia’s desk, Miles let out a humiliated breath. “I—”
“Aggressively heterosexual?” Miles’s father repeated, an amused smile on his face. “An intriguing claim, Miles. Any evidence to back that one up?”
“Father, did you miss the part where I said I don’t want to talk about this?”
“Miles, did you miss the part where I said that addressing your feelings with honesty and compassion is always important?”
“…you didn’t say that in this conversation,” grumbled Miles, glaring at his shoes.
Setting down his mug of coffee, Gregory Edgeworth crossed the room to stand next to Miles, placing an arm gently around his son’s shoulders. (Mia, tactful as ever, said very loudly, “OH WOW LOOK MY MOM’S CALLING ME GOTTA TAKE THIS BYE,” and darted out of the office, nearly knocking Charley off of her desk as she did so.) “Do you remember what I told you when you came out to me in high school?” he said.
“…no,” said Miles, who did, but wanted to hear it again.
“I said that I don’t mind you keeping secrets from me if it makes you feel safer,” said his father, squeezing Miles in a gentle one-armed hug, “but that you shouldn’t be angry at yourself for having feelings that you don’t understand and can’t control. Those feelings are only ever a part of being human.”
Miles exhaled, quiet tears stinging his eyes. “It’s just—hard,” he said helplessly. “And in a situation like this, with—with Phoenix’s life on the line—he can’t afford to have a lawyer who’s anything less than perfect.”
“You place too much responsibility on your own shoulders, sweetheart,” said his father, ruffling his hair. Reluctantly, Miles smiled. “Mia’s the one in charge, remember? Even if you’re not at your absolute best, I trust that girl to find the contradictions that prove Phoenix innocent—because we all know that boy couldn’t hurt a fly without bursting into tears.”
“He’s a sensitive soul!” said Miles defensively, then blushed. “Th-that is—”
Thankfully, his father just smiled slightly and ruffled his hair again. Which was embarrassing—Miles was twenty-one years old, for god’s sake—but not as bad as being teased about his crush. Not that anyone in Edgeworth Law Offices would do that, of course. “Do remember that no matter what happens, I love you very much,” he said. “All right?”
“Father,” said Miles, but he found himself smiling again.
Phoenix’s trial landed on a Sunday, which meant that Friday and Saturday would likely be spent planning late into the night—but every Friday, Mia’s mother and sister (who the Edgeworths were by this point quite well acquainted with) took the train up to buy Mia dinner and tell her lots of stories about terrifying-sounding Kurain politics and/or Which Fey Aunt Morgan Was Trying To Kill This Week. The concept of missing time with her family left Mia crestfallen—at least, until Miles’s father said warmly that of course Misty and Maya could come up and have dinner with them in the office. That was one of the things Miles both appreciated and envied about his father: the fact that his father somehow had the ability to change plans on a dime, rather than Miles’s own nervous rigidity when it came to things like work and preparation.
“You get it from your mother,” said Miles’s father over his shoulder, taking Ms. Fey’s coat and smiling warmly when she pressed the recharged magatama into his hand. “Thank you kindly, Misty. It’s been a truly useful tool thus far.”
“Miles doesn’t believe in it,” said Maya very loudly, sticking her head out from behind her mother to give Miles and Mia a big grin. “Hi, Sis! So did Nick kill a whole buncha people or what?”
“He’s only on trial for one murder, Maya—”
“MILES, do you have that extra copy of issue 97 of the Steel Samurai?” Maya interrupted, pushing past Ms. Fey to tug fiercely on Miles’s sleeve. “It sold out before Friday and I really want to find out if the Mystic Mystic double-crosses the Evil Magistrate! And can you come with me to Samurai-Con next weekend? I’d go by myself, but for some reason mom won’t let me—”
“Because you are fourteen years old and I’m not letting you run around unsupervised in a different city,” said Ms. Fey with some amusement, giving Miles’s father a commiserating smile as she sat down at Mia’s desk. “Mia, you have been eating, haven’t you? I know you tend to forget about self-care when you’re throwing yourself into case preparation.”
“Here we go,” said Mia. “Just—immediately. Mom, there is literally a burger in my hand—”
“I do have issue 97,” Miles informed Maya with some pride. “Took me quite a while to track down an extra copy for you, but I’ve got some connections at the comic book shop by that patisserie you enjoy—”
“—just say bakery, oh my god, we’re not in Spain—”
“Patisserie is French, Maya,” said Miles’s father helpfully. “Do you want your burger?”
“MR. EDGEWORTH YOU’RE THE BEST,” yelled Maya, sprinting over to yank her burger out from the large paper bag sitting on Mia’s desk. Throwing herself down at her mother’s feet, she proceeded to wolf down the burger with terrifying speed.
“There are three in there for Maya,” said Mia with a small grin, leaning against her mother. “How’s Kurain?”
Ms. Fey frowned, looking uncharacteristically troubled. Carefully, she said, “Still no word from Iris. I’m beginning to think that something very strange is going on.”
“And of course Aunt Morgan’s too busy fussing over poor Pearly to give Dahlia or Iris a moment’s notice,” said Maya through her burger, pulling a face from her position on the floor. Swallowing, she added, “That’s probably why Dahlia’s such a b-word.”
“Maya,” said Ms. Fey.
“Sorry,” said Maya without repentance. “But this whole trial is totally her fault! Anyone who knows Nick knows he didn’t do it, and anyone who knows stupid Dahlia knows that she did!”
“Which is why this is a trial I want you far away from, okay, Maya?” said Mia firmly, leaning down to gently smooth Maya’s hair. (“Cut it out, Sis!” Maya objected, squirming away.) “Dahlia Hawthorne is bad news. I told you about my first trial, right, Mom?”
Ms. Fey exchanged a very different look with Miles’s father. Then she said, “Mia, I know this is a trial that means a lot to you—”
“Dahlia Hawthorne?” said Miles suddenly, his stomach dropping. “As in Dollie? As in—but that means—is Phoenix dating the girl who poisoned Terry Fawles?”
“He’s cranky ‘cause Nick has a girlfriend,” said Maya knowingly, taking another large bite of her burger.
“I AM NOT CRANKY!” Miles snapped.
“You know, say that a little louder and glare a little more and it might be convincing,” said Mia innocently.
“Children, please,” said Ms. Fey, in her special Master-Of-Kurain voice that somehow managed to effectively silence a room in half a second. “Miles, you are entirely right to be concerned—though I must say I’m surprised that you didn’t already know this.”
The honest truth was that as soon as Mia had said Phoenix’s girlfriend Dollie, Miles had become completely unable to continue listening without feeling like he wanted to run into traffic. Phoenix hadn’t ever had a girlfriend before—always making those ridiculously sweet jokes about how Miles was the only one for him, and about how he’d be hard-pressed to find someone who fit into his life as well as Miles, and Miles had always known that Phoenix would eventually find a girlfriend but he had never really been prepared for how he’d feel when it happened. And then it had happened, and somehow Phoenix was also a murder suspect, and it had just been too much all at once. Worry over Phoenix, jealousy thanks to Phoenix’s mystery girlfriend, self-loathing linking back to that devastating, ever-present crush—
“Miles can be a little spacey when he hasn’t had his morning cup of tea,” said Mia smoothly, giving Miles a reassuring little smile. Touched, Miles managed a wobbly smile back. “But what’s important is that he’s listening now, and he knows that we’re going up against Dahlia Hawthorne hard enough to get her the sentence she deserves.”
“No one messes with Nick without feeling our wrath!” Maya piped up.
“Quite right,” said Miles grimly. He’d been present for Mia’s first trial, of course—largely as moral support, though he had done his best to help whenever he could—and Dahlia Hawthorne was definitively one of the more terrifying criminals he’d seen in action. The amount of power she’d held over Terry Fawles wasn’t to be scoffed at, and—
Miles’s heart seized. If Dahlia had so effortlessly wrapped a man like Fawles around her little finger, how would sweet, kind, utterly romantic Phoenix be anything other than thoroughly ensnared in her web of deceit?
“Miles!” said Phoenix, lighting up like a Christmas tree exactly the same way he always did, and rushed past a startled Mia, nearly bowling over Miles’s father in his effort to throw his arms around Miles’s neck. Miles laughed, surprised, and hugged Phoenix back. Even in the direst of circumstances, this felt exactly the same. “I’m so glad you’re here! I know you haven’t become the world’s best defense lawyer officially yet, but—gosh, it just means so much to me that you came down to help with this case! Mia was saying you might not!”
“You’re my best friend,” said Miles, pulling back to get a better look at Phoenix. Close up, he looked a little worse than usual—and that wasn’t solely because of the cold. (Were it anyone else, Miles would have maintained a respectable, safe distance to avoid catching a cold himself. It was Phoenix. Miles’s usual rules did not apply.) Phoenix’s eyes were a little red, his nose a little blotchy—but Miles had seen Phoenix sick before, and those weren’t his usual symptoms. No, Phoenix Wright had been crying quite recently—and to Miles’s surprise, he suddenly felt very motivated to make sure that Dahlia Hawthorne ended up behind bars before the end of this trial day. “I’ll admit I was a bit surprised to find out you’ve been harboring a secret girlfriend—”
“—oh, Dollie,” said Phoenix, his voice cracking in the middle. “I don’t know what she’ll think of me now!”
“—but,” said Miles, desperate to not hear Phoenix wax poetry about the serial killer he’d fallen for, “I quickly came to realize that you are…more important than my own ridiculous and cumbersome feelings. If I can be there for you, I always will.”
“It’s not ridiculous and cumbersome to be pissed at me for not mentioning Dollie,” said Phoenix apologetically. He still had his arms draped around Miles’s neck. “I guess…” A strange blush rose in his cheeks. “I guess I just thought it’d be a little weird? I wasn’t really sure how she’d fit in with you and me…” He trailed off, then hastily tacked on. “And Larry! Y’know, ‘cause we’re all—I mean, she’s—she’s a girl, and—”
“No, of course!” said Miles, who felt certain that he was blushing himself. “Obviously! I—”
“Okay, so if you two are done with your bromance,” said Mia from the entrance to the courtroom, “the trial is literally about to start. Now is definitely the time to get your head in the game, Phoenix.”
“Trust Mia, all right?” said Miles quietly, untangling himself from Phoenix’s embrace. After a moment of hesitation, he raised his hand to Phoenix’s face, gently stroking Phoenix’s cheek with his thumb. (Phoenix was a shockingly tactile friend—at least with Miles, though he did seem marginally annoyed by casual touching when it was Larry—and Miles was rather appallingly in love with Phoenix and had been since they were very young. So.) “And trust me. As long as you’re honest up there on the stand, we’ll get you that innocent verdict.”
“I—” Phoenix smiled, soft and warm. “You know I trust you, Miles. You’ve been saving my ass since we were nine, remember?”
“One class trial and suddenly I’m your patron saint,” Miles teased, letting his hand drop to Phoenix’s shoulder. Gently, he nudged him towards Mia. “Go on. I’ll follow.”
Phoenix’s smile wobbled a little as Miles’s hand left his shoulder. “O-okay,” he said. “Okay. I trust you.” Without taking his eyes off of Miles, he walked backwards towards the courtroom—and collided directly with the doorframe. “Ow! Sorry, sir—oh god, that’s not a sir, that’s a wall—”
Taking Phoenix’s arm with the patience of a long-suffering older sister, Mia wordlessly steered him inside.
“Aggressively heterosexual, hmm?” said Miles’s father mildly from next to him. “I’m not quite accustomed to engaging in that much pre-trial physical contact with my best friend.”
“Father, you know that that’s just how Phoenix is,” said Miles with some frustration.
“Yes, I do,” said Miles’s father, falling into step with him as they headed into the courtroom themselves. “And I think that you should perhaps examine that a bit more closely.”
Miles’s father had gone to sit with the general public—this wasn’t his trial, after all—and Mia looked more than a little bit nervous. Miles could understand why. They’d heard rumors of some hotshot defense attorney—Diego something-or-other from Grossberg’s firm—who had gone after Dahlia Hawthorne on his lonesome and ended up in a coma because of it. But Dahlia hadn’t been called yet, and the only one on the witness stand was Phoenix, who seemed hell-bent on helping out in any way he could. There was something rather comforting about a witness who genuinely did want to assist the defense, and Miles couldn’t help but feel buoyed by Phoenix’s candid honesty.
“Yeah, I—I did have a problem with the victim. Doug.” Phoenix’s eyes were locked on Miles’s as though their continued eye contact was the one thing that was keeping him from keeling over where he stood. Knowing Phoenix, this likely was the case. “He said some stuff about Dahlia that I really didn’t like. Stuff about her being bad news, and that I should stay away. He said she’d stolen some lethal poison from the Pharmacology lab, and that obviously wasn’t true, so I got mad and shoved him. He fell down on his cheap umbrella and it broke.”
That didn’t match the existing evidence. “Mia,” said Miles through his teeth (some superstitious part of him was deathly terrified to look away from Phoenix), “that doesn’t line up with the crime scene photo. Doug Swallow’s umbrella was indeed broken, but it was lying by the electrical pole!”
Mia steadied herself, picking up the photo to give it another look. “Your dad’s gonna be really proud when I tell him about this one,” she informed Miles with a weak grin. Turning towards the witness stand, she pointed towards Phoenix. “HOLD IT!”
An expression of unbridled relief spread across Phoenix’s face. “Did you catch a contradiction, Mia?”
“M-Mr. Wright,” said Mia, doing her best to remain professional even though she and the defendant had taken Maya to McDonald’s together about a week ago, “the crime scene photo clearly contradicts your statement about the umbrella! Though Doug Swallow’s umbrella is broken, it’s lying by the electrical pole!”
“Well, yeah,” said Phoenix, unfazed. “I shoved him into the electrical pole.”
“Which supports my point,” Mia agreed, her wobbly smile growing into a genuinely confident grin. “Doug Swallow is lying a good distance away from the place you say he landed when you pushed him!” Turning to the judge with a dramatic flourish, she continued, “Your Honor, when the defendant left the crime scene…the victim was still alive!”
Miles’s heart leapt. Unable to contain his joy, he shared a bright, delighted smile with Phoenix across the courtroom.
“B-but!” countered Payne, visibly upset. “The umbrella could have still been blown there by the wind!”
“That’s farcical nonsense!” said Miles indignantly, unable to contain himself. “The victim fell on top of the umbrella! There’s no way any gust of wind could easily pick up an umbrella from underneath Doug Swallow!” Realizing that this was not, in fact, his trial, he winced apologetically. “Um. That is—”
“My aide is exactly right!” said Mia, grinning fiercely and clapping Miles on the back. Good job! mouthed a beaming Phoenix from the witness stand, giving Miles two thumbs up—which was more than enough to bring a fierce blush to Miles’s cheeks. “There’s no way this contradiction can be simply written off!”
“B-B-But—”
“I know this matter of the umbrella seems trivial,” said the judge slowly, “but until all doubt has been removed, it would not be responsible of me to pass judgment!”
“NOOO!” howled Payne.
“Nice one, Miles,” said Mia, her smile huge and proud. “You’re gonna make a killer defense lawyer once you pass the bar—but I know you know that already, huh?”
Caught up in the delight of his first contribution of the day—and one that had left Phoenix with that soft, adoring smile, no less—Miles missed a handful of seconds of the trial. When he finally managed to tear his gaze away from the mismatched pair of eyes across the courtroom, Mia’s demeanor had changed slightly; there was a new tension to the way she held herself. “I-is everything all right?” said Miles, and belatedly realized that he really should be paying better attention. “I’m sorry that I’m not more focused, I just—”
Mia let out a soft laugh. “I did know you’d be a little distracted, Miles; your best friend is on trial. It’s okay.” Her hands were gripping the edge of the desk in front of her tightly enough that her knuckles had gone white. “They’re bringing in Dahlia.”
“…ah,” said Miles, his stomach dropping—and an equally horrifying possibility occurred to him. He had been there for Terry Fawles’s death, after all—what if Phoenix ended up the next defendant dead on the witness stand? “Mia, wait—”
“I think this is a good point for us to stop at,” the judge was saying. “Court will now enter a twenty-minute recess—after which we will listen to Miss Dahlia Hawthorne’s testimony.”
With a bang of his gavel, court was adjourned—and without hesitation, Miles pushed his way across the room to Phoenix, trying not to look like he was thinking about Terry Fawles crumpling to the ground like a discarded paper doll. Taking Phoenix’s hands in his, he said fiercely, “Nick—”
“Miles!” called Mia. “What are you doing?”
Phoenix glanced nervously towards Mia, who was impatiently motioning them towards the defendant’s lobby. “Should we—”
“—yes, yes, of course,” said Miles, hastily tugging Phoenix out of the courtroom and shutting the door behind them. “Only—listen, Nick, I—I need you to promise me something.”
“O-kay,” said Phoenix slowly.
“Don’t—” Letting out a shaky breath, Miles did his best to sort out his thoughts. There was no easy way to flat-out tell Phoenix that Doug Swallow had been right about Dahlia Hawthorne; this entire murder trial hinged around Phoenix’s violent reaction to that fact. But Miles couldn’t let Phoenix turn into another statistic on Dahlia Hawthorne’s ever-growing list of fatalities, and so he said, “Don’t hurt yourself for Dahlia’s sake, all right? If you feel the need to protect her, I understand, but—for my sake, promise me right here and now that you won’t do anything rash or reckless in an effort to preserve her safety.”
Phoenix gave Miles a sad little smile. “Miles, you know as well as I do that I can’t make that promise,” he said. “Not when it’s someone I love as much as I do Dollie.”
Miles really shouldn’t have expected any other answer. He’d known Phoenix since they were nine, and over the course of the last decade, Phoenix had sustained innumerable injuries—physical and emotional—in an attempt to protect the people he cared about. Despite this, Phoenix’s words still left him feeling a mixture of terrified and miserable, which wasn’t the sort of reassurance he’d been seeking. “I—of course I understand,” he said helplessly. “I know you love Dahlia Hawthorne dearly—”
Something in Phoenix’s face changed a little. “You look so worried,” he said, laughing weakly. “Is everything okay?”
“I can’t help but be worried, Phoenix!” Miles said, only barely managing to keep himself from shouting. “You’re on trial for murder—”
“Yeah, but I’ve got you on the case!” said Phoenix, seeming almost confused that that alone wasn’t enough to comfort Miles. “What’s there to worry about when we both know I didn’t do it?”
“Phoenix,” said Miles, his heart pounding. “Use your head. Who has everything to gain from Doug Swallow’s death?”
“Ahem!”
Phoenix and Miles jumped apart—had they really been standing that close?—to turn and face Mia, who looked reluctantly amused. “You two really are making it your mission to hold up court proceedings, huh?” she said. As Miles began to stammer out an apology, she held up a hand. “I mean it, Miles, don’t apologize about this one. Professionalism can go out the window when you’re not the one defending Phoenix full-time—and your presence has helped smooth things along a lot more than you’re giving yourself credit for.”
Miles managed a relieved grin. “Th-thank you, Mia.”
Mia gave Miles a sympathetic smile in return, then said, “Phoenix, can I speak to you for a moment?”
Miles took the hint. Stepping reluctantly away from Phoenix, he moved over towards his father, who had just entered the defendant’s lobby with case files in hand. “Information about the Armando poisoning,” he explained, nodding towards Mia. “Dahlia was involved in that case as well.”
“Diego Armando,” said Miles carefully, doing his best to remember the incident in question. “Poisoned in the basement cafeteria. Having lunch with Dahlia at the time, yes?”
“If we can establish some kind of link between that case and this one…” Miles’s father trailed off. “It’s likely a red herring, but I thought it prudent to bring any available information to Mia’s attention regardless. How is Phoenix doing?”
Miles let out a shaking breath. Wordlessly, he turned towards his father—and his father, who was astoundingly good at reading Miles’s expressions, pulled Miles into a hug. “Oh, sweetheart,” his father said, hugging Miles tightly. “He’ll be all right. You worry about him too much.”
“Given the scrapes he gets into, I find myself solidly convinced that I don’t worry about him enough,” said Miles into his father’s shoulder.
“Regardless.” Miles’s father pulled back, giving him a gentle smile. “You won’t do him any good if you spend the whole trial worrying about him. I saw that clever little contradiction you caught, by the way—”
“Oh!” said Miles, and couldn’t help but feel a warm, proud glow. There was nothing quite like being complimented by the best defense attorney Miles had ever met—and while his father was by no means stingy with praise, it still did mean a lot to Miles when his legal accomplishments were noted. “Thank you, Father. I-I was simply doing my job.”
“And you did it marvelously.” Miles’s father patted his shoulder. “Go check on Phoenix and Mia, why don’t you? I’m sure they’d value your input on whatever it is they’re talking about.”
“Thank you, Father,” said Miles again, a genuine smile on his face. This smile lasted right up until he reached Phoenix and Mia.
“—we met in this courtroom, actually!” Phoenix was saying to Mia, grinning wistfully and scratching the back of his head. “About eight months ago. I was picking up some books for Miles in the reading room downstairs, and in she runs! Kinda felt like fate, in a way—”
Over Phoenix’s head, Mia locked eyes with Miles. Though her smile remained placid and indulgent, the look of bone-deep nausea in her eyes was unmistakable. “That’s really nice, Phoenix,” she said with great effort, which comforted Miles more than he’d expected. At least he wasn’t the only one who hated hearing Phoenix talk about Dahlia.
“Yeah, isn’t it?” Phoenix’s expression was soft and delighted. “She’s really nice, Mia. She’s kind, sweet, silly, encouraging—”
“YEAH SHE SOUNDS GREAT,” said Mia a little too loudly. At Phoenix’s startled expression, she winced. “Um. I mean. That’s really good, Phoenix?”
By some miracle, Phoenix didn’t seem to be picking up on Mia’s obvious displeasure. Pulling something out from under his shirt, he said brightly, “And here, look at this! She gave me this bottle necklace the first time we met!”
That got Miles’s attention. “Phoenix, may I see that?” he said, and yanked the necklace away from Phoenix before he’d received an answer. In his haste, however, he had failed to account for the fact that Phoenix was still wearing the bottle necklace—and inadvertently yanked Phoenix forward as well, sending Phoenix tumbling towards him and knocking himself into a nearby wall.
“…oh my god,” said Mia from next to them, burying her face in her hands.
Pressed up against the wall with a fistful of pink sweater, Miles felt his throat dry up as he looked directly into Phoenix’s mismatched eyes. “I-I,” he stammered, before remembering the gravity of the situation. Taking the bottle necklace in hand, he examined it more closely, trying to bring to his memory the exact size and shape of the bottle Terry Fawles had worn around his own neck. A new possibility was beginning to come to mind. “Phoenix,” he said slowly, “has Dahlia been asking you for this necklace back?”
“Wh-what?” Hastily, Phoenix tugged the necklace free, blushing fiercely as he stepped back. “I—” Shaking his head a little, he brought back his bright, sunny grin. “How’d you know?”
“Call it a defense attorney’s hunch,” said Miles briskly. “Did you catch that, Mia? Dahlia’s been asking Phoenix to return the bottle necklace that she gifted him eight months ago.”
Mia raised her head from her hands, eyes very wide. “Yes,” she said. “Yes, Miles, I absolutely did catch that.”
Phoenix had a sweet, sappy smile on his face. “Yeah, she—she’s really shy, I guess,” he said, “because she just never stops asking me for the necklace back. Every time we’re together, she asks me—please give me the necklace back, Feenie.”
“She calls you Feenie?” said Mia, sounding viscerally horrified.
“Irrelevant information,” said Miles, waving a hand. His heart was pounding. They were about to win this entire trial. “Phoenix—”
“I show the necklace to everybody,” Phoenix was saying happily.
“I haven’t seen it,” said Miles.
“Well—” Phoenix colored. “I hadn’t gotten around to telling you about Dollie yet, but you can bet I’d have shown you this necklace when I did!”
Miles was very glad that Phoenix and Dahlia’s relationship would be over by the end of this trial. This was intolerable. Just as he was opening his mouth to change the subject to Anything Other Than Dahlia Hawthorne, Mia said with great relief, “Recess is over, kids! Let’s get back inside,” and shepherded Phoenix and Miles back into the courtroom without waiting for their response.
Miles looked back over his shoulder and felt a soft curl of warmth. His father waved, his eyes crinkling up at the corners as he gave Miles an encouraging smile.
Dahlia Hawthorne was just as insipid as Miles remembered. It was hard to pay attention to the arguments going on in court when she was smiling sweetly at him and Mia—and harder still when that smile was directed at a smitten, soft-eyed Phoenix Wright, who responded by lighting up in a way he only ever had around Miles. And that wasn’t fair, because Miles wasn’t a criminal or a murderer and should receive twice the amount of adoration as Dahlia! Not that he wanted Winston Payne simpering over him, of course not, just—
“Miles?” said Mia shortly, nudging him. “Home stretch here. Pay attention.”
It was definitely getting serious if Mia wasn’t letting Miles get lost in thought. “Of course, Mia,” he agreed, heart pounding as he turned his attention back to the current topic. Something about…lightning, electricity, time—
“Doug Swallow’s wristwatch stopped at 3:06 PM,” Mia fiercely informed the court. “And with the power outage at 2:55PM, that leaves an interval of ten minutes—”
“Eleven,” said Miles.
Mia gave Miles a Look. “Eleven minutes,” she said with some exasperation, “unaccounted for in the timeline that Miss Hawthorne presents! More than enough time for Mr. Wright to leave—and for the real murderer to end Doug Swallow’s life!”
Immediately, Miles’s eyes went to Phoenix—who was watching Mia with rapt attention. He looked almost awed. What Miles wouldn’t give to soften the blow he knew was coming—
“The real murderer?” repeated Payne derisively. “And who do you suppose that would be, Ms. Fey?”
“There’s only one person who had the opportunity,” said Mia, unflinching. “It could only have been Dahlia Hawthorne!”
Dahlia gasped, crocodile tears springing to her eyes. “Madame Fey!” she sobbed out. “How could you—”
“OBJECTION!” yelled Payne. “This is nonsense!”
“What were you really doing that whole time, Dahlia Hawthorne?” Mia demanded. “Were you really listening to your music and cheering on the two men who you claim were so very dear to you? Or were you waiting for the opportunity to silence Doug Swallow for good?”
“Ms. Fey!” shouted the judge. “This is a very serious charge that you are—”
“HOLD IT!”
It was taking everything in Miles not to run to Phoenix right then and there. Phoenix was shaking, looking at the both of them with a horrified, heartbroken expression. “Your Honor, please—strike everything the defense just said from the record!” he burst out. “They don’t know Dollie at all! She’d never—”
“Mr. Wright, hold your tongue,” Miles snapped, unable to contain himself any longer. “Your life is on the line! This woman is not what she seems!”
Phoenix’s eyes widened. Too late, Miles realized that Phoenix knew him well enough to know that Miles wouldn’t be upset if the situation wasn’t genuinely serious. Just as he was preparing himself for the inevitable flood of tears as Phoenix realized his girlfriend to be entirely untrustworthy, he realized with a jolt that something in Phoenix’s expression had changed. “Mr. Edgeworth,” he said unsteadily, “I can trust you. Right?”
Miles felt a dizzying rush of relief. “I—yes, Phoenix. Yes.”
“And—is Dahlia the killer?”
It was only for the sake of Phoenix’s heart that the answer to this question was so difficult for Miles to say. “Yes,” he said heavily. “She is.”
“Feenie, I—no!” sobbed out Dahlia. “I don’t know why you’re listening to them, please—”
“Dollie, if Miles thinks you killed someone, there’s definitely a reason,” said Phoenix steadily. “Right, Miles?” Head spinning—and feeling much lighter than he had a minute ago—Miles managed a wobbly nod. “They’ll sort this out,” said Phoenix, and actually managed a smile. “Miles and Mia. Both of them.”
“I’m so sorry,” said Miles as soon as they were out of the courtroom. The bottle necklace had been taken away as evidence, Phoenix’s cold medicine had been confiscated, and a seething Dahlia Hawthorne had been led out of the courtroom to be held at the detention center—but all Miles could care about was the new misery that hung tangibly around a subdued Phoenix. “Phoenix, I am so—”
Without a word, Phoenix pulled Miles into a fierce hug, burying his face in Miles’s shoulder. He was shaking hard enough that Miles had to hold him very tightly to keep him steady, and his breath was coming in uneven little gasps. He didn’t say anything at all.
“I was gonna suggest a celebratory dinner, but…” Mia trailed off, giving them both a small, sad smile. “Do you two need a moment?”
“That would be appreciated, yes,” said Miles, reaching up to gently stroke Phoenix’s hair. “I’ll meet you both back at the office, all right?”
Mia turned on her heel and left, looking back once with that same strange melancholy. It felt oddly funereal for a success, Miles thought, letting his fingers rest at the nape of Phoenix’s neck as he watched his father follow Mia out of the building. His father looked back twice, worried and proud all at once, and a look in his eyes suggested that there was quite a lot he wanted to say to Miles later—but in a good way.
Good, Miles thought. I could do with some good news today.
Slowly, Phoenix raised his head. “The Dollie I knew could never have said things like that,” he said shakily. “Never. Not in a million years. Do you—I mean, do you think she was a fake? Or—”
“Yes,” said Miles, who would have said anything to bring a smile back to Phoenix’s face. “Most undoubtedly.”
Phoenix let out a sniffly laugh. “You’re not supposed to agree with me, Miles. You’re supposed to tell me I’m being—I don’t know. Stupid. Illogical.”
“Love is, by nature, an entirely illogical thing,” said Miles, gently wiping a tear from Phoenix’s cheek. “If it brings you any modicum of comfort to think that your love for Dahlia was reciprocated, who am I to take that away from you?”
“But…” Phoenix trailed off. “It wasn’t.”
“No,” said Miles. “Which, in my expert and unbiased opinion, makes her the cruelest criminal I have ever come across.”
Phoenix tipped his head forward, resting his forehead against Miles’s. His breathing was beginning to even out. “I don’t…” He trailed off. “I don’t know if I loved her,” he said. “If I didn’t know her—if I didn’t know so much about her—can that even really count as love?”
“Don’t doubt the strength of your own feelings, Phoenix,” said Miles softly. “You love more fiercely than anyone I have ever met. She will never understand the treasure she squandered, and that is entirely her loss.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes.”
Phoenix moved back just a little, looking at Miles with a wobbly grin. “I love you, you know,” he said. “I feel like I don’t say that as much as I should.”
Miles managed a weak, sad smile. He felt a bit like his heart was breaking in two. “I’m well aware, Phoenix,” he said. “I love you too.”