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“I mean, the guy was stabbed behind a boba tea shop just this morning,” Trucy says over the phone. “That's kind of cringe. I understand getting murdered over pizza, but boba tea? It's not even that great! Anyway, Polly's client is obviously innocent but they insisted on putting her on trial immediately, so we're stuck at the courthouse for now. Might be a while before we get out. Everything okay at home?”
“Haha,” Phoenix says. “Sure. I'm at home and everything's fine.”
“Daddy! I can tell you're lying! But I don't have time to solve your problems right now. I'm sure you'll figure it out. Okay love you bye!”
The line goes silent. Phoenix stares at his phone for a moment.
“In case you were wondering,” Edgeworth says, “the entrance is locked.”
“Yeah, the lowered blinds and emergency lighting kind of clued me in,” Phoenix says.
Edgeworth levels him with a glare the force of a thousand suns. Just as hot, too, unfortunately. “Oh, because now you choose to be observant?”
“Don't pin this on me! You missed the announcement same as I did.”
“Yes, well,” Edgeworth says, glaring a little less.
“Why would a mall close in the middle of the afternoon, anyway,” Phoenix says. “They're missing out on so much panic gift revenue.”
“Yes, God forbid the cashiers get to spend some time with their families.”
“Look at you, worrying about us common folks.” Phoenix risks an elbow nudge, which immediately turns the attractive sun glaring back to full. Sheer gravitational force, that's what this is. “Can't you pick the lock?”
“Why would I know how to pick a lock?” Edgeworth says, indignant. “If either of us should know how to pick a lock, it would be the one with the magician daughter.”
“Hey, Trucy is a law-abiding citizen,” Phoenix argues, which is not that big of a lie. Edgeworth even lets it slide, how charitable of him.
“The locks are electronic anyway. And even if we manage to break the glass door, we won't get through the blinds. Have you tried the emergency call button?”
“Pressed it five minutes ago. Didn't do anything. Probably broken.”
Edgeworth makes a show of looking around the place with a raised eyebrow. There's a big, sticky stain on the misaligned floor tiles near the entrance; someone's dropped boba tea from the shop next door, probably. Several of the storefronts are empty save for a handful of naked mannequins, some of them missing an arm or a leg. A row of dusty fake potted plants cuts the corridor into two equally depressing halves. “Not exactly surprising, in a place like this.”
“You say that like it's my fault.”
“You're the one who asked me to come here!”
Phoenix isn't quite sure how Hey wanna help me pick out whatever last-minute presents won't wreck my budget is any different from Hey I heard you're back in town we could have drinks maybe or Hey do you need help moving into your new and probably stupid big house or any of his other unanswered variations on Hey can you please please please waltz back into my life, or shuffle or foxtrot or whatever, I don't care just please. Granted, they haven't really spoken to each other since the MASON trial back in October, but at this point, running after Edgeworth is just something he does. “I didn't think you'd actually show up.”
“Well, I,” Edgeworth says, and then stops talking. He's been doing that, lately. It makes Phoenix want to shake him until the words fall out, or maybe just hold him really tight, absorb meaning through osmosis until he finally knows what the fuck Miles is thinking.
Since that's really not on the table, Phoenix instead says, “There has to be an emergency exit somewhere.”
“I wouldn't count on it,” Edgeworth says. He sounds as dry as he always does, but then again you never know with him.
“Wait,” Phoenix says, just to be sure. “Is this triggering for you? Being trapped in a closed space in late December?”
“Oh, no need to worry,” Edgeworth says, already walking off. “I'm going to get entirely new trauma from this.”
***
“So as I said, obviously Polly's client is innocent, but now we have to figure out which of the witnesses actually did it so that's gonna be a while. Also, have you looked out the window? The blizzard is so strong, nobody's supposed to go outside! They made a radio announcement and all. Anyway, we're having fun. Prosecutor Gavin's been playing festive songs on his electric guitar for the whole court during recess.”
And indeed, Phoenix can hear a very impassioned rendition of Last Christmas in the background, interspersed with Apollonian sounds of exasperation and misery. When the chorus hits, the judge starts singing along while Gavin does some sort of harmonizing.
“It's kind of good,” Phoenix has to admit.
“It's really good! The only downside is that he's still convinced that Polly's client did it so he's not helping us out for now.”
Phoenix thinks for a moment. “Did you play the you-ruined-seven-years-of-my-dad's-life card?”
“I did,” Trucy says, her pout audible through the phone. “Only I think he's catching on that you don't actually hold a grudge against him. Guess we'll have to solve this one the normal way. Whoops, that was the last chorus! Court's back in session! Okay love you bye!”
“Why don't you tell her where you actually are?” Edgeworth says, after he hangs up.
“Same reason you haven't called Detective Gumshoe to get us out of here,” Phoenix shoots back. “It's embarrassing, is what it is.”
Edgeworth motions towards one of the high windows, or rather the flurry of snow framed in it. “With this kind of weather, the police wouldn't be able to get here anyway.”
“I'm sure they could spare a rescue helicopter for you.”
"I wouldn't be so sure about that," Edgeworth mutters cryptically, then adds, "And a helicopter wouldn't be particularly helpful during a snow storm."
"A snow mobile, then. A heated carriage pulled by sled dogs. Or is that still not good enough for the brand new Chief Prosecutor?"
Phoenix means it as a compliment, honest. He's proud of Miles, he really is. He's glad that he's finally back in town for good.
He's also viscerally jealous of the entirety of the LA legal system for how it's getting more of Edgeworth's time and attention than he ever will, and for how, unlike him, it's apparently enough to make Miles stay. So it kind of ends up not sounding like a compliment at all.
Sure enough, Edgeworth picks up on it. “Jesus Christ, if I'd known you'd be like that – ”
The sentence trails off like a wool thread in one of Trucy's abandoned knitting projects. “What? You wouldn't have come here? Or you wouldn't have dragged me into the supply closet?”
“The police don't even have sled dogs,” Edgeworth says, pointedly ignoring him.
Phoenix doesn't know what he expected. Of course they won't talk about it; they never do. They didn't talk after the very first frantic hospital kiss all those years ago; they didn't talk after that one time in a European hotel room when the investigation had almost gone south, or that other time in a European hotel room when the investigation had also almost gone south, or any of the other times after that. They didn't talk about it after the second just as frantic hospital kiss back in June, or the time in the abandoned defendant lobby right after the MASON trial, and they wouldn't have talked about it after whatever Edgeworth would have done to him inside that supply closet, had they not been interrupted by the sudden emergency lighting and mall closing.
Then again, maybe there just isn't that much to talk about. Maybe Miles thinks Phoenix is convenient enough for the occasional fling; maybe Phoenix is desperate enough to take whatever he can get. No need to point out the obvious.
“They could at least have left the heating on,” Phoenix says, shoving that train of thoughts as far off-track as he can. “It's freezing.”
“It's not,” Edgeworth says. “Your jacket is just terrible.”
“Feel free to get me a new one, then,” Phoenix counters. “Since we're at the mall and everything.”
The thing is that Phoenix talks out of his ass most of the time and Miles is obsessively contrarian all of the time, and it can result in weird things happening. Like now, when Edgeworth takes one look at the clothing store they've ended up next to, crouches down in front of the door, takes a small piece of metal out of his wallet and just goes to town on it.
The lock clicks open not a minute later.
“You do know how to pick a lock,” Phoenix says. Both the air in his lungs and the saliva in his mouth have decided to call it a day, judging by how embarrassingly breathless his voice is.
“Learning new skills is important,” Edgeworth says, as though his therapist told him to get into breaking and entering. “I asked Kay to teach me after she broke into my apartment for the third time. Are you surprised?”
Phoenix shoves his hands into his pockets. “Turned on, mostly.”
Miles seems a little affected by that, at least: his ears go red even as his mouth turns down. Small victories. “Thank heaven you're not a lawyer anymore, then. Let's find you a coat.”
You're the reason I became a lawyer in the first place, Phoenix thinks but doesn't say. Would be pointless, anyway.
***
“We're still busy cross-examining the witnesses, but guess what! One of them was hiding an entire dead chicken in her backpack! The judge decided to let it slide under the condition that she make a roast out of it for all of us. Me and Polly and Prosecutor Gavin are peeling the potatoes.”
“That sounds nice, sweetheart,” Phoenix says.
“It's really not though!” Apollo shouts from a distance. "I got into college debt for this!"
“Oh, stop whining, Polly,” Trucy chastises. “Potatoes are great, and not everyone likes chicken.”
“Careful with the Sparschäler, Fräulein,” Gavin says in the background. “Don't peel off your skin, ja?”
“I'm going to peel off my skin,” Apollo grumbles.
“See, we're having a great time,” Trucy says. “Okay love you bye!”
“I'm not going to ask,” Edgeworth says, visibly torn between the marzipan praline and the one with hazelnut filling. After arguing over which coat Phoenix should pick, wandering around some more in search of an emergency exit and making fun of the mall's hideous collection of life-sized Santa statues, Phoenix said something like I could really go for a snack. Following that, Edgeworth promptly broke them into a chocolate shop.
“I didn't think you'd be so down with theft,” Phoenix admits, leaning on the counter and chewing on a cocoa-dusted pistachio-filled truffle.
Edgeworth huffs in disdain and ends up eating both pralines in quick succession. “It's not theft, I put the money for this in the cash register. Although it's completely overpriced, seeing as they mass-produce in a factory two towns over.”
The chocolate shop has way better emergency lighting than the hallways, so Miles' face is all soft with butter-yellow lamplight. He has some cocoa dust stuck to the corner of his mouth. The entirety of the universe is out to get Phoenix personally. “You lock-picked the cash register?”
“Feel free to represent them, should they decide to take me to court.”
“I literally can't though.”
Edgeworth waves his hand dismissively. There is more cocoa dust stuck to his fingers. “Once you've got your badge back, of course.”
Right. Sometimes Phoenix forgets there was a reason he didn't take any of Edgeworth's calls, back when – everything. Not that their playing field was ever level, but at least when they'd both stood in court it had seemed possible to scale the difference.
“You seem very confident that I'll be getting it back,” he says.
“Don't be ridiculous,” Edgeworth says immediately. “You've been thoroughly cleared of all charges, you initiated perhaps the biggest reform our legal system has ever seen, and god knows there's a need for skilled lawyers with – ”
“I mean,” Phoenix cuts him off. “I might not want to.”
“Oh,” Edgeworth says, looking genuinely surprised for the first time today. “I – I see.” Suddenly his face isn't all that soft anymore. It occurs to Phoenix that maybe it had nothing to do with the lamplight; maybe Edgeworth was just smiling, and now he isn't. “It's your decision to make, of course.”
Phoenix expected the disappointment; he didn't expect it to hurt quite as much. Looks like outside of the whole lawyer thing, he really isn't all that important to Miles.
“I'd have to study for the bar all over again, for one,” he says, washing down the sting with another pistachio truffle. “That was enough of a nightmare the first time round.”
“A minor miracle you made it at all,” Edgeworth comments. “I've seen the unopened books in Ms. Fey's office.”
“Yeah, well,” Phoenix says. “You could say I was pretty motivated.”
Edgeworth looks unhappy but doesn't say anything. Phoenix puts the lid back on the chocolate box.
***
“It's so weird though! I thought the true culprit was always supposed to be one of the other witnesses, except that it really looks like none of them did it! Anyway, Prosecutor Gavin took us to the evidence room so we could all go through the facts together once again. Oh, and we're doing a Secret Santa. There's a whole locker full of old evidence that was scheduled to be destroyed anyway, it would be so sad to let it go to waste like that. I found this really cool blood-stained sweater – the stain looks kind of like a cat – I think Polly is going to like it! I also found an attorney's badge made out of cardboard. I could bring that one back for you, daddy!”
“Thanks, I'm good,” Phoenix says, curling up on the sofa.
“Suit yourself! Anyway, I think we're really close to solving the case. Okay love you bye!”
“Jesus, Wright, at least take your shoes off,” Edgeworth says, sitting down next to him. “You're ruining the upholstery.”
“I don't think there's much to ruin in this store,” Phoenix says. “I mean, they're selling fake fireplaces. With plastic wood and a TV screen and everything! At this point, it would be more tasteful to set your money on fire directly.”
“Says the man whose home decoration starts and ends with one single potted plant.”
“Excuse me,” Phoenix says, but Edgeworth is doing that soft smiling thing with his face again, and his coat is unbuttoned, so really it would be unfair to expect that Phoenix keep track of any of his thoughts.
He could lean over and kiss Miles right now, probably. They could pick up where they left off before they were so rudely interrupted by the mall being closed, and for a moment Phoenix would get to imagine that everything was different, and then he'd remember that it isn't, and then they would never talk about it because they never fucking do.
Or – or Phoenix could try to make it different, for once.
“So, I've been wondering,” he says, buried in the sofa cushions with all the nonchalance of a man hanging off a cliff, “why aren't we dating?”
Edgeworth sits up from where he'd also sunk into the sofa cushions. The vague not-smile vanishes immediately. “You really want to do this now?”
“It's not like we have literally anything better to do.”
“Well, it's pointless,” Edgeworth says, and then much quieter, “You know why.”
If this is what being let down gently by Miles Edgeworth is like, Phoenix won't have it. He might not be worth all that much without his badge, but he's at least worth a proper rejection. “Maybe I need to hear you say it anyway.”
And yeah, it's a little cruel to make Edgeworth say it. Because I'm not in love with you. Because I don't see how you'd ever fit into my life. Because you simply don't matter that much to me. He's implied all of these things often enough; it's just that unless Phoenix hears it point-blank, there's no way he'll ever let go. He's been clinging onto this cliff for too long, fingers frozen to the rock. Someone has to kick him off.
Edgeworth doesn't say any of that, though. Instead, he levels Phoenix with a glare and says, “I believe you made it quite clear yourself.”
Somehow that hurts worse than anything else he could have said. “Right. So – it's that obvious to you? That it would never work, because it's me?”
Edgeworth looks away. “That's one way to put it.”
“You're not even going to think about it?”
“Well, excuse me for being too – invested,” Miles snaps, abruptly standing up from the couch, “but I can't exactly be casual about this."
What? "You haven't been anything but casual so far."
He starts buttoning his coat, head bowed. Phoenix doesn't think he's imagining the tremor in his hands. "I know. I thought I'd be able to simply - but that was a mistake on my part. You've moved on, and I'm trying to accept that, even though I'm obviously not doing a great job – ”
“Moved on,” Phoenix echoes, “hang on, moved on from what? We weren't even – we've never – ”
Edgeworth looks at him sadly. “Exactly. We weren't. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have come here today. In fact, I should have put a stop to this a long time ago.”
With that, he walks off, coattails fluttering behind him. Phoenix knows he should run after him, at least shout something, probably. He can't. He's not even hanging off a cliff anymore; the sofa has swallowed him whole while he tries to parse what the hell just happened.
He does leave, at some point. It isn't a very comfortable sofa.
***
“The good news is that the blizzard's getting weaker and we'll soon be able to get out of the courthouse, so I might make it in time for dinner. The not-so-good news is that we reviewed all the evidence and it looks like the killer is still out there! Apparently one of the witnesses saw him come back to the crime scene this afternoon and then disappear inside the mall just next to it, right before it was about to close, too! Polly and Prosecutor Gavin think he's still hiding there. Detective Gumshoe is taking us along as soon as the weather allows it. Can you imagine? Good thing nobody else is in there with him! Okay love you bye!”
It takes Phoenix, who has been aimlessly wandering around the mall and actively trying not to think about anything, a little longer than usual to put the pieces together. Eventually, he remembers the boba tea shop next door and the broken emergency button, which should really only break when someone wants it to.
Well, fuck.
Edgeworth isn't picking up his phone, obviously, and with the catastrophic way this place is structured, the odds of just running into him by chance aren't great. Still, Phoenix tries. He runs through the corridors, backtracking until he's at the entrance again, with its empty storefronts and mannequins and dusty fake plants. When he turns around to head back into the mall and try another direction, there's a figure in red clothes standing right behind him.
It's not Edgeworth. It's one of the life-sized Santa statues, or at least Phoenix thought it was, except that it's moving, and, more crucially, pointing a knife at him.
“One wrong move and you die!” the man in the Santa costume yells.
Well, that's to be expected. Phoenix resists the impulse to shove his shaky hands into his pockets. “So you're the guy who stabbed someone over boba tea?”
“What? No, I didn't!” the man protests, brandishing his knife. The blade is still covered in blood.
“It kind of looks like you did though,” Phoenix says, taking a small step back. His back hits the locked glass door.
“I didn't stab him over boba tea,” the man snaps. “It was behind a boba tea shop! There's a difference! I had a better reason than that!”
“Oh, no, I get that,” Phoenix says quickly. “We all have moments where we want to stab someone, right? And honestly, some people just deserve it.”
“Yeah,” the man nods, Santa hat flopping back and forth, “yeah man, you get it. Some people just have it coming.”
“I have this friend, for example. Drives me completely nuts. I think about stabbing him at least twice a day.”
“Yeah! I always think about that, too! So why is it so weird to actually do it, right?”
There are tiny sleigh bells attached to the sleeves of his costume. With every jerky movement of his knife, they make a little ringing sound. Phoenix leans a bit harder against the door. “What, you're afraid people are gonna judge you for this?”
“I know they will,” the guy sighs. “Everyone always says that murder is bad and everything.”
“Yeah, that sucks,” Phoenix says. “The law is so annoying. Have you ever been to court?”
“A few times. They're all just accusing you of things and judging you and shit! Full of snitches, that place.” He points his knife a bit more deliberately at Phoenix's neck, suddenly thoughtful. “Actually, you could be a snitch too. I can't just let you leave like that.”
“What, me? Never,” Phoenix says. “I hate these law people. Prosecutors especially, they're the worst. Your secret's safe with me.”
“Hm,” the man says. "I don't know if I believe you."
“That's okay,” Phoenix says, and then Edgeworth hits the guy over the head with a detached mannequin arm. The knife clatters to the ground; the man quickly follows. The tiny bells on his sleeves give a last cheerful jingle.
Phoenix tries to step away from the glass door, which proves to be a little difficult because his legs feel like jelly. It doesn't matter all that much, though, because not a second later Miles is pressing him back against the door and kissing him.
“Oh, come on,” Phoenix says after a moment, hands on either side of Miles' face, “you can't ghost me for like ninety percent of the time and then get like this whenever I'm even mildly in danger – ”
“Mildly,” Miles sneers before kissing him again. “Of course, let's call being held at knifepoint mild danger. Let's call being hit by a car mild danger, or falling off a bridge, while we're at it.”
Phoenix drops his hands to Miles' shoulders. “I thought you wanted to, uh. Put a stop to this.”
Miles tightens his hold on him. “Well, I've clearly failed, haven't I.”
Phoenix swallows. “I wish you wouldn't say it like that. I wish you wouldn't wait to show up until I'm in danger, or until I'm literally begging you to come spend time with me. I wish you wouldn't stay here only because it's convenient for your job now. I wish you'd just – just give this a chance.”
“It's not because,” Edgeworth says, and then stops. He's still holding Phoenix pretty tightly, but it seems like absorbing meaning through osmosis isn't something that actually works, go figure.
“Can you please, just this one time, finish that sentence,” Phoenix says.
Edgeworth frowns. “Phoenix, you're the one who won't give it a chance.”
“I have no idea what you're even talking about.”
“Well I,” Edgeworth starts saying, and then there's sirens blasting outside and the blinds are torn apart and the doors open and the police is there.
Maybe the murder guy had the right idea. Phoenix sure could stab someone right now.
***
“Gee, daddy,” Trucy says, bouncing on her heels and smiling brightly. A few feet away, Gumshoe is herding the semi-conscious boba killer (because that's apparently what they're going with) into the sadly sled-dog-less police car while Edgeworth fills Apollo and Prosecutor Gavin in on what happened. A stray strand of hair is sticking up from the back of his head. “You should have told me you and Mr. Edgeworth were locked in here! I'm sure we would have found a way to get you out!”
“I didn't want you to worry,” Phoenix says. “And you would have thought it was cringe.”
“No I wouldn't! Lying to your daughter on the other hand – now that's cringe!”
Then she throws her arms around him and buries her face in his new coat. She doesn't quite manage to hide the hitch in her breath. Phoenix squeezes her tightly, feeling like an idiot.
After a minute or so, there's a quiet cough right next to him.
“They'e going to need your statement,” Edgeworth says.
“In a moment,” Phoenix says.
“Mr. Edgeworth!” Trucy says, disentangling herself like nothing happened. “You saved daddy's life!”
“He did the same for me long ago,” Edgeworth says earnestly.
“Oh my god,” Phoenix groans. “Okay, I don't care, we're doing this now. Truce, you mind giving us a minute?”
“I'll go give Polly his Secret Santa present,” she says, already walking off to the police car where the rest of the court delegation is hanging out.
And then it's just them.
“So, uh,” Phoenix says. “What you, what you said about, uh, giving it a chance – was that – ”
“They didn't want me to become Chief Prosecutor,” Edgeworth says in a rush. “Most of the committee was against it, seeing as I've been uncovering corruption within their ranks for the past seven years. It took a lot of convincing and pressuring, and even then half of them are still trying to make me leave. I didn't come back because the job opportunity is so convenient; it isn't. I came back because you're here.”
“Okay,” Phoenix says. “Okay, cool. That's a cool thing to say.”
“It's the truth,” Miles says.
“Okay,” Phoenix says again. “My turn: I lied to you about the gift shopping. Point blank. I already bought all the presents I need, like, two weeks ago. I just made something up because that's how badly I wanted to spend time with you, even if it's three hours of wandering around a shitty mall and arguing about sofa cushions or whatever. I'm the least casual person there is when it comes to you. What in the world made you think I've moved on?”
Edgeworth has the gall to frown at him. “You – you said you don't want your badge back. What was I meant to take from that, other than a rejection of the circumstances we met in, of the future we might have together?”
Phoenix feels like he might start crying. “Oh my God. I wasn't being metaphorical. I just meant that I might not want my badge back. If anything, that would be a reason for you to move on.”
“What,” Edgeworth says. “Don't be ridiculous. Obviously my regard for you has nothing to do with your badge.”
“Obviously,” Phoenix echoes. “Sure.”
“Great,” Edgeworth says.
“So,” Phoenix says.
They stare at each other for a moment. Somewhere in the distance, Apollo is complaining about not wanting a sweater full of dried blood shoved in his face. The air is freezing, but Phoenix doesn't feel too cold, courtesy of the coat that Miles picked out for him.
Edgeworth clears his throat. “Franziska is visiting, but she'll be out of town by the twenty-sixth. I could use some help eating leftovers, and maybe constructive criticism on my interior decorating, while we're at it.”
Phoenix can't be faulted for reaching up and smoothing down the stubborn strand of hair on Miles' head, then, or for kissing him right after that. His face is very red from the cold and very soft from everything else. All in all, not much has changed. Then again, maybe it didn't need to.
“If you have a fake fireplace, I'm leaving,” Phoenix says.