#been the one who signed off on von karma taking edgeworth's trial it was all over | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tayterbean · 1 year

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FEBRUWHUMP DAY FOUR

miles edgeworth

knife to the throat

Much like most other people on the planet, you did not like Manfred von Karma. Not as a prosecutor, and certainly not as a person. In no uncertain terms, you thought he was a nasty, evil man who cares more about his reputation than creating a fair justice system.

You had sat in on one of his cases once, simply out of pure curiosity. You walked out of the courtroom baffled, wondering how much of what von Karma did was allowed in the courtroom. He hardly let the defense attorney speak at all, let alone peacefully cross examine his witnesses. His idea of what happened was conjecture at best, and even though he had evidence, it wasn’t solid enough to rule out all other possibilities. If anyone else had been prosecuting, the case could have easily had the opposite verdict.

Naturally, due to your opinion of von Karma, your predilections about his prodigee were not positive. You thought Miles Edgeworth would be a carbon copy of a younger von Karma, with the same unorthodox, unconventional courtroom methods.

That is why you were quite surprised when you started working as an officer on some of his cases.

The prosecutor was cold and standoffish, no doubt, but he wasn’t like his mentor. He could be... personable, on occasion. He treated people fairly well, as long as jobs were done correctly. He said his “pleases” and “thank you’s” on his good days. Overall, he was a decent human being, and a prosecutor you, surprisingly, enjoyed working with.

When you watched him in court for the first time, his methods somewhat captivated you. He had an unspoken way of commanding the courtroom without so much as a word. His presence radiated confidence and professionalism, an opposition to von Karma’s malice-filled persona. Again, the prosecutor was far from friendly and nice, but he wasn’t mean, either. He was just good at his job, and little else seemed to make up his personality.

In Miles Edgeworth’s trial that day, he was up against a pretty renowned defense attorney. The attorney was able to wiggle himself into the smallest of holes in the prosecution’s testimony, which often lead to bigger, gaping holes of contradictions. A few times, you saw the prosecutor’s face blanch, his forehead and palms beginning to sweat with nerves. He had almost lost his train of thought a number of times, but was able to save it just before it derailed.

In the end, the guilty verdict was achieved, which you thought to be the correct verdict in the case. With von Karma, you never knew if the defendant was given a guilty verdict because he was actually guilty or if it was simply because von Karma was prosecuting.

You were one of the last ones to leave the courthouse, taking the time to sign some documents in a meeting room before leaving for the day. By the time you left the room, some of the hallway lights were cut off for the day and there seemed to be no one else around.

At least, that was what you thought until you heard the voice.

“You call that embarrassing display a trial?! Have I taught you nothing?!”

“For the record, I did obtain a guilty verdict, sir. Surely you-”

“Don’t you dare talk back to me, boy! You fumbled your way through your conjectures, botched your rebuttals, and the only reason that defendant isn’t walking the streets is because his attorney couldn’t connect the dots!”

Recognition of one of the voices instantly piqued your interest. You stepped lightly, peering minimally around the corner that separates you from the perpendicular hallway.

In the hall, you saw Prosecutor Edgeworth standing against the opposite wall, looking uncomfortable at best. Positioned near inches away is another cravat-wearing prosecutor, looking at Edgeworth like he would scum on the bottom of his shoe.

Your eyes narrowed as you watched the scene, instantly suspicious.

“The defense withheld evidence from me, sir. That isn’t something I can control.”

“No, but you can control the stupid expressions you make when something catches you off guard! Never show emotion in court, boy - never! This trial brings shame and embarrassment to the von Karma name, and-”

“I got the guilty verdict, what more could you possibly want?!”

You blinked as von Karma moved quickly, pulling something out of his back pocket. Your mouth fell slightly open when, in the next second, there was a large knife pressed against Prosecutor Edgeworth’s throat. The man’s eyes instantly widened, a sorrowful, almost familiar fear creeping into them.

“Don’t interrupt me, boy!... I housed you, fed you, clothed you for years and this is how you repay me? By tarnishing my name with your unpreparedness, your mediocrity?! I won’t have that, Miles Edgeworth, I absolutely won’t...”

The expression in von Karma’s eyes was growing more crazed by the second, and Edgeworth’s more frightened. You’d seen that look in a man’s eyes only a few times before - a look of crazed determination that people only wore when they were about to do something irreversible.

In a quick second, you’ve stepped out from behind the corner, weapon drawn. “Police! Drop your weapon and put your hands in the air, now!”

You startled both men, both of them jumping and glueing their wide eyes onto you. For at least two seconds, no one moved, and you made a show of stepping closer and cocking your weapon. “Drop the knife, von Karma! You have five seconds before I fire my weapon.”

You began counting in your head as the two men remained frozen. Then, the older prosecutor shot a sharp glance at the younger one, who let out a defeated sigh.

Von Karma did remove the knife from Edgeworth’s throat, but only so he could make his way over to you. He placed his hand on your arm and forced your gun down, giving you a pointed look that only confused you. Your gaze drifted back to von Karma, who gave you an evil smirk before beginning to walk away.

“Hey, wait, you’re under-!”

You’re stopped from going after him by Edgeworth, who physically restrained you by an arm around your middle, holding you in place. “Hey, let go! Get your hands off me, he just-!”

“No, he didn’t... It’s best to just let him go.”

You managed to writhe out of the prosecutor’s grasp, and when you do, you give him an incredulous expression. “Edgeworth, he just threatened you! He held a knife to your throat, he was going to-!”

“No, Officer L/N, he wasn’t... He... does that, occasionally.”

You raised a shocked eyebrow at the man. “He ‘does that’?! You’re saying him threatening you at knifepoint is a regular occurrence?!”

“Not regular, but… often enough for it not to raise alarm.”

Your shock continued to be evident on your face. “Edgeworth, that is not normal - he can be arrested for that, he needs to be-“

“Just because something isn’t normal for you, Officer, doesn’t mean that it isn’t normal for everyone!” he snapped, voice deep and commanding. “Now, I’ve got to be going, and I’d appreciate it if you kept yourself out of my personal affairs from now on… I’m afraid there will be great consequences if you don’t.”

And with that, the man walked off, leaving you standing in the hallway alone, shell shocked at the exchange you’d just had.

As you stood there dumbly, contemplating, you realized that Edgeworth’s final words had left a bad feeling in the pit of your stomach. After a few more moments of thinking, you realized why.

The prosecutor hadn’t been threatening you. He had been stating a fact.

—————

You kept your mouth shut about the incident for months, continuing your work with the prosecutor in a semi-normal manner. He interacted with you vaguely now, more cold than before, and it was no mystery as to why.

After Edgeworth lost his first trial ever to Phoenix Wright, you instantly became worried for his safety. If Manfred von Karma threatened his prodigee with a knife after he showed emotion in court, what would he do to him for losing?

After the trial concluded, you hung around the courthouse, walking the halls slowly and quietly. You were listening out for any hints of hushed, angry words, seriously concerned for Edgeworth’s safety.

Eventually, you came to a closed meeting room door, and after a few moments of listening, you were able to make out voices coming from inside. You leaned your ear against the door, straining to hear.

“Miles Edgeworth, you have made a fool out of me for the last time! I never should have taken you into my house, into my family! You are going to have to learn that when you disgrace the von Karma name, there will be consequences... I never thought would have to teach you the hard way, but I should’ve known... I should’ve just disposed of you the same way I did your father all those years ago...”

... His father??

“... What?”

“Yes, Miles Edgeworth - hate me. Hate me in the last moments of your short, pitiful li-”

“Freeze, police! Drop the weapon and put your hands where I can see them, now!”

You acted on pure instincts, not thinking, not feeling, just doing. You saw the scene before you, certainly - Edgeworth backed against a wall by von Karma, a knife at his throat and blood trickling down from a superficial cut - but didn’t register it in your mind. Right then, you were a police officer, not a friend or colleague.

“I said drop the weapon!” you repeated, your gun fixated on von Karma’s chest.

Once again, the older prosecutor looked at the younger with a knowing, commanding expression. You began to notice Edgeworth’s expression for the first time, and it wasn’t as you had expected it. It wasn’t stoic or emotionless or embarrassed - it was angry, shocked, and determined.

“Take care of this little issue, would you, boy?” von Karma asked, smiling grimly.

After a moment’s hesitation, Edgeworth grimaced before kneeing the older man in the thigh.

He yelped and stumbled back, and Edgeworth seized the opportunity in an instant. He wrenched the knife out of the man’s hands and tossed it aside before he started landing punches. Hard, angry, hate-filled punches.

You allowed him to get a few good ones in before stepping in.

“Alright, alright, knock it off! Edgeworth, stop-!”

“No! He killed my father, he deserves-!”

You didn’t catch the rest of the prosecutor’s statement, as you were too concentrated on pulling him away from von Karma. You had to wrap both your arms around him from behind in order to pull him away, and he was fighting you all the while.

“Edgeworth, Edgeworth, stop, stop, stop now-”

“Let go of me, let go now! We can’t let him - NO!”

You looked up and instantly found the source of the man’s panicked cry - von Karma was making a run for it.

For a moment, you forgot all about Edgeworth. You instantly let go of him and drew your weapon, bolting out of the room with it raised and ready to fire.

“Freeze, Manfred von Karma, or I will shoot!!” you yelled as loudly as you could, knowing well the man wouldn’t stop.

He didn’t, and when you rounded the corner to the next hall and saw him still running from you, you kept your promise.

The shot rang out, and in the next moment the prosecutor buckled and collapsed to the floor, reaching for his obliterated kneecap. He screamed in pain, writhing on the ground. You hated to admit it, but a small part of you actually enjoyed the sight.

It was only when you heard the pounding footsteps behind you that you remembered Edgeworth was there.

You spun around just in time to grab him and prevent him from getting to von Karma. You held him around the midsection again, fighting against him.

“Hey, stop, stop! Stop fighting me, Miles, or I will take you down, do you understand? You have to calm down and you-”

“No, no! My father, he killed my father! All these years, he-... All these years, after all these years, he killed... my father...”

He started sinking to the ground then, and you, naturally, went with him. He practically crumpled to the floor, anger fading into disbelief and sorrow. Once on the ground, the prosecutor clutched your uniform tightly, which was possibly the only thing keeping him upright. His angry mumblings were soon replaced by soft, nearly silent cries, and you went from “take down the vengeful bystander” mode to “comfort the traumatized victim” mode instantly.

You ran your hand up and down the prosecutor’s back, allowing him to rest his head underneath your chin. He cried the cries of a broken man while von Karma writhed in pain just a few feet away.

“I-I’m sorry... I-I’m so, so sorry,” Edgeworth managed softly, breathes hitching on almost every word. You didn’t think he was apologizing to you, so you stayed silent, continuing to rub his back while keeping your eyes on von Karma.

Once your backup arrived and securely had von Karma in custody, you sighed, reaching over and giving Edgeworth a proper embrace. “He’s going where he needs to be now,” you told him confidently, “and he’ll pay for what he did - I’ll see to it myself.”

As a response, the prosecutor only tightened his grip on your uniform, holding onto you like a lifeline. Looking back on it, you realized that it had been, in the moment, his nonverbal way of saying thank you.

0 notes

waveypedia · 3 years

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the more things seem to change, the more they stay the same.

Ao3

Miles Edgeworth and Phoenix Wright have loved one another since the day they met.

Against all odds, Miles returned the smile in full. “Then I suppose we shall just have to discover the truth together. Shall we, Wright?”

The grin Wright gave him in return was blinding enough to replace the sun. “We shall, Edgeworth. Now just take it easy.”

Four non-linear glimpses into the lives of Phoenix Wright and Miles Edgeworth over the years.

Written for Narumitsu Week Day 7: Seasons

Winter

[December 31, 2016

5:32 PM

Edgeworth’s Apartment]

Bang, bang, bang.

Miles jumped out of his armchair, nearly throwing his book.

Bang, bang, bang.

Someone was knocking at his door. Rather thoughtlessly, it seemed. Miles was always careful to scare any solicitors that dared pass the signs far away. Maybe his reputation simply hadn’t spread to this one brave solicitor.

The knocking continued, relentless. Miles dropped his book and stalked to the door. If this solicitor was blissfully unaware of how terrifying the Demon Prosecutor could be, they soon would not be.

“Oi, Edgeworth, open up.”

That… was not a solicitor.

Miles froze in front of the door, one hand on the handle. What could he possibly want?

Stubborn as ever, the knocks continued. Miles’ frustration outweighed his wariness, and in a burst of fury, he wrenched the door open, seething.

On the other side of the doorway, Wright frowned at him. He was slumping, exhausted, with one hand still poised to knock. His ever-present cheap court suit was rumpled and wrinkled, like he’d slept in it - not uncharacteristic at all. Yet he was bright-eyed and sported the same expression on his face as when he was about to uncover a tangled mystery in court.

“Edgeworth,” Wright said, breathless and half unbelieving.

“What do you want, Wright,” Miles sighed, unable to conjure up the energy to properly rebuke Wright. Or engage in… whatever little tête-a-tête he had planned.

That seemed to break whatever spell Miles had cast upon Wright by opening the door. The other man straightened, shaking out his wrist. “Can I come in?”

Miles stared, the query not quite processing for a minute. And when it finally did, he found himself unable to make sense of it.

“I suppose,” he supplied awkwardly, after he realized he had been staring blankly at Wright in lieu of a response.

Wright ducked his head abashedly, a small, awkward smile making its home on his face. “Great. Perfect. Um…. Yeah,” he said eloquently, ducking around Miles (who seemed to have forgotten all of his politeness and social skills, the one proficiency both his father and von Karma had imprinted on him) and into the house.

After a minute, Miles shut the door and followed, feeling hopelessly lost in his own home.

He found Wright in his kitchen, pulling some items out of his cupboards seemingly at random.

“May I ask what you’re doing?” Miles said, feeling unimaginably out of place.

Wright Jumped as if he’d forgotten Miles was there at all. He glanced over, his mouth forming a small ‘o’. He frowned, seemingly turning over words in his head as he worked.

“Well,” Wright began, somewhat hesitantly, “When Ch- When Mia died, I never had the energy to cook.” He paused, glancing over at Miles to gauge his reception. After a moment of deliberation, Miles gave him a small nod, urging him to continue.

“Yeah,” Wright said, half to himself. “And after Do- Well. When these hard things happen, it’s… well, it’s difficult.”

“...Difficult,” Miles muttered, half to himself.

“Yeah, difficult,” Wright said, with a flippancy he didn’t completely feel.

Still feeling indescribably inept for the moment, Miles pulled out one of the chairs at his kitchen island and dropped into it. He resigned himself to staring awkwardly at the floor as Wright worked.

“Um, do you have a speaker or anything?” Wright asked after a minute. “I don’t listen to a lot of music, but Maya has a playlist she likes to put on while I cook, so…”

Wordlessly, Edgeworth retrieved the speaker from where it’s been collecting dust in one of his closets and passed it to Wright. “You cook for Maya?”

In a similar gesture to when he’s flustered in court, Wright laughed nervously and scratched behind his head. “Yeah, well, someone’s gotta, right? Neither of us are gonna get our own cooking show anytime soon, but we manage. And between the two of us, I’m the one who’s used to living on my own. She’s learning, though.”

“She doesn’t know how to cook?” Miles asked.

“Eh, not really,” Wright replied, plugging the speaker into an outlet and fiddling with his phone. “Apparently they have this fancy system where the elders of Kurain cook for them. I doubt Maya would be too interested in cooking if it weren’t for the fact that she’s not really allowed to. She’d much rather go out for burgers every meal.”

Miles hummed in response.

Seemingly, Wright finally figured out how to connect his ancient brick of a phone to Miles’ speaker, since his face broke out in a grin and he waved his phone in the air triumphantly. It was similar to the grin he wore in court, when he discovered a key piece of evidence or broke a witness’ testimony.

Wright pulled up Maya’s playlist. Miles expected something bright and bouncy, much like the girl in question, but the notes that filtered through his speaker were far from it. Low and elegant, a familiar orchestral score filled the highest arches of Miles’ kitchen. Before he realized it, he relaxed into his seat, the familiarity of the music making him feel right at home. A millisecond later, Miles’ brain caught up to him.

“Is this the Steel Samurai soundtrack?!” Miles practically screeched, unable to believe his own ears.

Wright’s head, bowed in careful concentration as he chopped vegetables, snapped up in surprise. His eyes were blown wide. “Yeah, Maya really likes that show. It’s why she dragged me off to defend Will Powers that one time.” As he processed, a playful smirk began to worm its way onto Wright’s face, much like the pit of dread making itself at home in Miles’ stomach. “Why, do you watch it?”

“Nghoooh,” Miles groaned, burying his head in his hands.

Wright laughed, throwing his head back empathically. A few pieces of finely chopped carrot flew off of his knife and hit the counter in the back, making Wright and Miles wince in tandem. Miles made a mental note to clean his kitchen as soon as possible, since it was now certain Phoenix Wright would make a mess of things once again.

Although, was it really all that bad?

“It’s okay,” Wright said, still choked with giggles. “It makes sense, you know?”

Panic flashed in Miles’ gut. He wondered if he had been dropping unintentional signals. If that’s the case, what other subjects have I been dropping unintentional signals about?! But Wright simply smiled, completely comfortable.

Wright’s eyes sparkled, both with mirth and affection. Affection?! “Don’t you remember watching the Signal Samaurai with me ‘n Larry when we were kids? Signal Red, Signal Blue, Signal Yellow, remember?”

“Larry and I, Wright,” Miles sighed, massaging his temples. It was unimaginably easy to slip back into their courtroom personas, with Miles latching onto the tiniest contradictions to tear his argument apart.

Except here, there was no argument. Only a nostalgic window into the past and a dangerously comfortable relationship with his friend-turned-rival-turned-maybe-friend-again.

“Whatever, whatever,” Wright said, waving the knife perhaps a bit too carelessly for a blade that size. Then again, Wright had always danced a little too close with danger, hadn’t he?

It wouldn’t stop Miles from worrying about him, though.

“I do remember watching the Signal Samurai with you when we were little,” Miles admitted. “I… I kept watching it, even after I… moved to Germany. Von Karma was never fond of it, unsurprisingly, but music and television were some of the only things from my home I found a way to keep.”

Wright set down the knife and leaned his elbows on the polished counter. He said nothing, but something in his open and earnest expression urged Miles to continue more than any prompting ever could have.

“I tried to get Franziska to watch some of it with me,” Miles resumed, embolded. “She never cared much for it, but she watched it with me. Sometimes. Usually after a nightmare.”

“Franziska?” Wright questioned.

Miles simply waved a tired hand in response. He knew better than to leave Wright in the dark now, after that mess of a trial, but Franziska’s tale was a long and complicated one that he simply didn’t have the vitality for. He could feel his already-low energy level slipping, as if willpower was bleeding out of his body like grains of sand in an hourglass. He dropped his head into his hands rather roughly, and his eyes began to droop closed.

In a rare stroke of luck, Wright seemed to understand him immediately, without Miles needing to summon energy he didn’t have to explain. Somehow Wright had always been able to do that - always been able to read Miles effortlessly. Additionally, he could pick up on what he needed instead of what he wanted, even if he didn’t even know itself.

Wright set down the cooking tools and carefully stepped over to where Miles was sitting at the bar. “Maybe that’s enough for tonight, hmm?”

“But your cooking,” Miles croaked, fighting to keep his eyes open. Exhaustion from the previous days, which he’d already thought he’d been suffering from, suddenly hit him like a truck.

Wright grinned at him, triumphant and crooked, like when he caught a witness in court. “Aha! You want to eat my cooking! You’re happy I’m here!”

Miles flashed his darkest, most terrifying scowl, coveted and perfected by the Demon Prosecutor himself. “I am simply trying to be a good-” He cut himself off with a yawn, frustratingly ruining his acerbic facade. “-host.”

Wright rolled his eyes, smiling fondly. Fondly?! “Please, Edgeworth. If anyone’s hosting here, it’s me.”

“In case you have not noticed, Wright, we are currently inhabiting my house,” Edgeworth said, unimpressed.

Wright beamed, unrepentant, and flung his arms out to both sides. “Yeah? And I’m the one cooking. I believe that’s what they call a contradiction in court.”

“Absolutely not,” Miles grumbled. “This is ridiculous.”

Wright chuckled softly. “You just don’t want to admit I beat you again.”

“Hardly,” Miles groused, disgruntled. “When we go head to head again, Phoenix Wright, I will arrive with a guilty defendant. And I will achieve my guilty verdict.”

“And what if your defendant isn’t guilty?” Wright asked, tilting his head to the side with a small smile.

Against all odds, Miles returned the smile in full. “Then I suppose we shall just have to discover the truth together. Shall we, Wright?”

The grin Wright gave him in return was blinding enough to replace the sun. “We shall, Edgeworth. Now just take it easy.”

Miles rested his chin in his hand and watched Wright finish with an easy smile.

Spring

[May 25, 2019

11:03 PM

Wright Talent Agency]

“You know what they say about spring?” Phoenix asked, apropos of nothing.

Edgeworth glanced up from the files he’d been annotating. He won’t let Phoenix look, but he knows they’re files for the case he’s prosecuting. A locked-room murder, Edgeworth called it. He’d offered Phoenix the coveted spot of co-counsel, but Phoenix had turned it down. There was no way he could accept that offer. He had thought both he and Edgeworth knew that well, but it seemed Edgeworth was still holding out hope.

Oh, how the tables had turned.

“What’s that?” Edgeworth asked, setting down his pen to give Phoenix his full attention. Oh, Phoenix could never quite handle this version of Edgeworth, the one full to the brim with careful kindness. Not like he was stepping on eggshells (which he, and everyone else, did a little too often around Phoenix for his liking, even if it was deserved).

Phoenix spun one of Edgeworth’s spare pens between his fingers. “It’s a time of change, and new beginnings.”

“Oh?” Edgeworth’s tone was carefully measured, knowing and wary of the minefield Phoenix was leading him into, yet following placidly all the same. “That is a nice sentiment. It most likely stems from the many agricultural plants that must be planted during this season, as well as many animals’ mating and birthing season during this time.”

“Yeah.” Phoenix scruffed his foot on his already dirty carpet. The hollow pang of pain he receives in response felt staticy and cloudy, like it was muffled through several layers of unreality. He barely processed it. Everything felt like that these days.

Everything except for Trucy, his light. Who was now fast asleep, hopefully dreaming peacefully and free of the nightmares that had plagued them both ever since the Gramarye trial.

And now, Edgeworth, apparently. To prove his point, Phoenix turned his focus to Edgeworth. The fuzz receded, and he could see clearly again. Just in time to focus on every smooth, unwrinkled thread in Edgeworth’s suit jacket that cost more than a year’s worth of rent, even though he’d been working tirelessly for the entire day. Or his grey eyes, sharp with focus as he examined the file for any hint of a clue or contradiction. Not sharp like the Demon Prosecutor’s eyes had been, glaring daggers from an unassuming newspaper photo and then again in the courtroom. No, Edgeworth was only dangerous to his enemies, and his enemies were the villains who stood in the way of truth and justice.

Like Phoenix himself, if the newspapers were to be believed, anyway. Everyone thought they were.

Sometimes he wished Edgeworth thought the same. It would make things easier, in a sense. Spending time with Edgeworth is tricky, but rewarding.

Rewarding enough that Phoenix continues to humor his old friend, even though he can barely bring himself to answer Maya’s stubborn calls. He can’t quite put his finger on why .

(He knew the answer - he’s known since he changed his career path. Since he stubbornly kept writing letters to a boy who never once gave any hint he was reading them. But he’s not willing to break that black lock yet. Not with the hand the Gramarye trial has dealt him.)

“Yes, but when one examines the issue closely, one finds it does not have the negative connotation it appears to,” Edgeworth said, breaking the silence Phoenix hadn’t realized they’d fallen into. He punctuated his words with a quiet, thoughtful hum that always made Phoenix melt inside, even though their conversation topic was less than comforting. “It is true that some instances require an end of another in order to begin anew. Such is the cycle of life. Yet, the focus of the saying is always on the beginnings - the good in this hypothetical relationship. Life is a give-and-take of tragedy and joy.”

“Huh,” Phoenix blinked, stumped. “That’s awfully poetic, Edgeworth.”

Edgeworth chuckled awkwardly, clutching at his elbow. “I… may have given it quite a bit of thought.”

Phoenix’s lips quirked up in the tiniest hint of a smile. It was self-deprecatingly vicious, sure, and a little sorrowful, but there was genuine surprise and happiness there as well. “Nice to hear I mean so much to you.”

Phoenix fully expected a “Don’t flatter yourself, Wright, I was merely pondering my own tragedies. Did you forget that? That my life is worse than yours?” or a “I was merely thinking of Franziska, or Ms. Fey. They have both been through quite a bit. Wouldn’t you agree, Wright?”

Even though he knew Edgeworth well, had watched him change and evolve from the Demon Prosecutor into the comfortable person he was today, nothing could prepare him for Edgeworth’s reaction. The prosecutor set his papers down and shifted so he was facing Phoenix. Quicker than Phoenix expected, he reached out and gripped both of Phoenix’s shoulders in a strong hold.

The contact shocked Phoenix out of his stupor. He blinked at Edgeworth, mouth partly open in shock. Edgeworth, for his part, seemed slightly surprised at his own brevity. A scarlet flush dotted his cheeks. Phoenix was sure his own face was much worse. Yet Edgeworth continued, strong and true.

“Wright, you must know by now that I hold you in high regard,” Edgeworth said, with only the smallest touch of awkwardness Phoenix would expect for such a declaration from the man who had once declared unease and uncertainty unnecessary feelings. “I will do everything in my power to see you properly reinstated to your rightful place behind the defense bench. Moreover, I… care for your well-being, very much. It does not do me any favors to witness you in such pain.”

“O-oh,” is all Phoenix could manage. How could he, in the wake of such a blunt confession? How could he possibly follow up to that?

The gravity of what he did seemed to catch up to Edgeworth, and he dropped his arms in a rush. Phoenix missed the comforting weight of his hands almost immediately.

“I… apologize if I was too forward.” Edgeworth cast his gaze to the ground, cheeks burning. “I mean every word I said, however.”

“I… thanks, Edgeworth,” Phoenix said lamely. “I feel the same way.”

Edgeworth smiled, comfortable and soft. “I… yes. I appreciate the sentiment. Thank you, Phoenix.”

I appreciate the sentiment. A bolt of surprise shot through Phoenix. He jerked up, filled with renewed energy and adrenaline, and gave Edgeworth a hard look. All static had completely disappeared now; dissipated in the wake of his shock. “You don’t believe me?”

It wasn’t quite a question, wasn’t quite a statement. Yet Edgeworth just frowned, confused, and shook head. “The opposite, in fact. I believe you wholeheartedly. You have proved it to me many times over.”

“I have?” Phoenix echoed.

Edgeworth gave a controlled, tight nod. “That is correct. Your boundless care manifests itself in your tenacity. That such trait became apparent to me in your many attempts to befriend me as a child, and later to secure my friendship once I had left. Yet again, when we faced off in court. I found myself on the other side of your tenacity, for I stood in the way of safety for the ones you cared for. You cared so much for me in my own trial that you refused to accept my confession, even though I wholeheartedly believed it to be the truth. If I had secured any other lawyer, well…” Edgeworth trailed off, a small smile gracing his face, but his eyes were hard and cold.

Phoenix chuckled mirthlessly. “You did everything you could to refuse my services.”

Edgeworth’s gaze met his once again. His eyes were still steely, but his smile grew. “That I did. I am forever grateful I folded when I did.”

Light footsteps padded down the hallway. Phoenix started, but relaxed when the door creaked open to reveal Trucy, still blinking away the last vestiges of fleeting sleep. “Daddy?”

“Hey, Truce.” He gave her an easy smile. “Uncle Miles and I are just working on one of his cases.”

Trucy stepped fully into the room and joined him on the couch. She leaned into him, and he wrapped her in a bear hug, relishing the comfort of his daughter in his arms and the fading warmth from her bed. She fit perfectly in his embrace, like a missing puzzle piece he never knew he needed.

It wasn’t quite perfect, though. Not yet. Phoenix cracked one eye open and, after a terrifying moment of deliberation, risked taking a hand off Trucy to beckon Edgeworth in.

Edgeworth startled at the invitation, eyes blown wide. He stood awkwardly next to the couch, case files forgotten. At first, it seemed like he would refuse. But Trucy, perceptive as ever even with her eyes closed, reached out and clamped a small hand around his wrist. Phoenix was fully aware of her surprising strength for an eight-year-old (although easily used to it, from Pearl - was this just how eight-year-old girls were?). Edgeworth, on the other hand, resided in Germany half the time and spent another chunk of his free time traveling the globe in his research of foreign judicial systems. His time with Trucy was much more limited (especially since Phoenix was loath to put Edgeworth in any danger from his mystery nemesis) and he was thus much more susceptible to her charms. Trucy successfully pulled Edgeworth in.

He fit into the hug perfectly. It felt like a tuning fork turned over Phoenix’s sternum. Home. Safe.

Phoenix knew then, deep in his gut. This was his family. This was how they were meant to be.

For the first time since the Bar Association had stripped him of his attorney’s badge, hope sparked inside Phoenix. Times may be dire, but he had the people he needed right around him.

Tomorrow he would finally call Maya and Pearl back. He would call in all the favors Gumshoe owed him, and bring over Larry for old times’ sake. They would begin planning. They would begin fighting back. For Trucy’s safety, if nothing else.

But most of all, Phoenix just wanted to hold Edgeworth without worrying about the consequences.

Summer

[July 6, 2001

2:02 PM

Watterson Neighborhood Pool]

“Don’t you wanna come play with us?”

Miles peeked over the top of his book to see Phoenix, grinning at him toothily. He leaned forward, cupping a hand around his mouth theatrically. “I wanna push Larry in the pool.”

The friend in question had seemingly abandoned Phoenix. Across the pool deck, Larry was unsuccessfully attempting to chat up the lifeguard, who was clearly at least ten years older than he was.

“He was supposed to be getting us ice cream,” Phoenix said, the pout audible in his voice. But when Miles glanced back at him, he was smiling. Still having fun, despite it all.

That was Phoenix for you.

“I… might be amenable to that,” Miles confessed, hiding his small smile behind his book. His efforts were rendered futile when Phoenix broke out in a full-blown grin and punched his fist in the air, dancing around Miles’ beach chair. Phoenix’s excitement was as infectious as always.

Carefully, Miles bookmarked his book, noting where the last word he read was located, and set it down on his chair. After making sure it was safely in the shade, he followed Phoenix around the deck of the pool.

Larry turned at the sight of them. “Hey, dudes! So I know I said I would get ice cream, but I got something better! You see, I met this girl…”

The lifeguard sighed, dropping her head into her hands. “You are ten years old.”

Miles wasn’t really sure how they were going to go about this, but it seemed Phoenix had no patience. Cutting Larry off mid-sentence, he simply reached out and shoved Larry in the pool.

Miles choked on his laughter.

“Hey!” Larry emerged from beneath the surface, coughing and sputtering, his usually-voluminous hair drooping and plastered to his face. “Miles! Nicky!”

“You said you would get us ice cream!” Phoenix yelled back, fists propped on his hips. “Stop flirting with the lifeguard!” The lifeguard snorted at that.

“I was on my way over!” Larry protested, paddling over to the side of the pool. He gripped onto the side, right below Phoenix and Miles. He paused, and a mischievous grin grew on his face.

Phoenix’s eyes widened and he stepped back. “Larry, wait-”

“Hahaha! Take that!” Laughing, Larry splashed hard, splattering the shrieking Phoenix and Miles with droplets of water. “That’s what you get!”

“Hey!” Unrepentant, Phoenix leaned forward and stuck his hand in the water, splashing Larry back. After a moment of deliberation, Miles dunked his foot in and kicked water at Larry.

The lifeguard, sitting above them, rolled her eyes and leveled the three of them with an unimpressed glare. “Okay, you three. Until you can learn proper water safety, take it away from the pool.”

“Sorry, miss,” Miles said, properly chastised.

At the sincere apology, the lifeguard’s lips curled up in a small, amused grin. “It’s fine, kid. Just go have fun somewhere else where you won’t get hurt.”

“Will do,” Miles promised, smiling.

“C’mon, Miles!” Phoenix grabbed his wrist and pulled him along in a run after Larry. “We have to get Larry back!”

“Was he not getting us back for pushing him in the pool?” Miles pointed out, smiling ruefully. Yet he kept pace with Phoenix, lagging slightly behind so Phoenix wouldn’t let go of his wrist. Miles was no stranger to affectionate physical contact (Uncle Ray alone would fill that void), but Phoenix’s friendly taps and touches always felt... Different. He couldn’t quite articulate why he felt the way he did, or how Phoenix’s touch felt different from anyone else. Logically, if he had to choose whose love meant the most to him, it was his father’s, no contest. Yet Phoenix’s mere presence made him feel something different from his friendship with Larry, and even from his relationship with his father. He had no idea what it was. It frustrated Miles to no end.

(Of course Miles knew about crushes. He read books all the time! He was no stranger to love, as he watched it dominate the society around him. His father was never specific, but he’d told Miles many times in no uncertain terms he loved him no matter what. For that matter, he’d explained his own aromanticism and asexuality to Miles a while back. It was more that Miles never realized he could get crushes yet, much less on his already-established friends. He always figured if he fell in love, he would know it.)

(In his defense, he would know it, just… much later.)

Phoenix glanced back to catch Miles’ gaze, shaking him out of his stupor. At the sight of Phoenix’s euphoric grin, all of Miles’ musings fled his mind all at once.

“Come on, we almost have him!” Phoenix called, urging Miles onward. Miles complied, sporting a playful smile of his own.

As Phoenix and Miles rounded a bend in the path, Larry appeared in their sights up ahead. When he spotted them, he let out an undignified squawk and quickened his pace, waving his arms wildly.

“You can’t run forever, Larry!” Phoenix yelled through peals of laughter. “Miles and I will catch you!”

“Just try me!” Larry squealed from somewhere up ahead. “You’ll never catch me!”

It was at that moment that Phoenix and Miles rounded another corner and caught Larry at a dead end.

“Objection,” Miles said, in the poised and dignified way his father did in court and certainly not broken up with snickers. “You have reached the end of the path.”

“Nowhere to run, Larry.” Phoenix grinned, a sharp and dangerous thing that sent a strong bolt of something running through Miles’ veins. The threat was slightly undercut by Phoenix’s free hand, held out towards Larry, fingers wiggling with a treacherous promise. “It’s the end of the line.”

In the end, Miles’ only regret was that Phoenix let go of his wrist to ensnare Larry in a tickle fight.

He missed the comforting warmth encircling his wrist, but it was worth it to affectionately terrorize Larry. Within minutes, they had dissolved into an all-out tickle war, punctuated by euphoric giggles. They ran circles on the field above the pool, the short grass tickling Miles’ bare feet. Together, Phoenix and Miles lay waste to a dead-in-the-water (which was a phrase Miles had heard his father use to describe certain trials and culprits, but didn’t know the full nuances of its definition yet) Larry, laughing all the while.

By the time they were all tired out, the sun was low in the sky, tinting the sky cotton-candy pink. The pool water’s vibrant blue was replaced with a creamy orange when they ran back down the path to it. The lifeguard smiled wryly when she spotted them, and Miles smiled shyly back.

Instead of going back into the pool, they chose the ice cream stand, finally getting their due. Phoenix and Larry watched with starry eyes while Miles carefully counted and paid with the money his father had pressed lovingly into his hand. Ice cream in hand at last, Larry found a place to sit on a big rock overlooking the pool. They sat, shoulders pressed against each other, swinging their bare feet in the air.

Phoenix nudged Miles with his shoulder. “Hey, Miles.”

Miles glanced over. “Hmm?”

In the fiery glow of the setting sun, the sight of Phoenix made Miles’ heart skip a beat. His heterochromatic eyes were soft and glazed over with faraway thoughts, and his spiky hair fluffed and mussy from hours running around and Larry ruffling it in their fight. A drop of vanilla ice cream was smeared at the corner of his lip, and it took all Miles had to keep from primly wiping it away.

“Thanks for playing with us,” Phoenix said, smiling softly. He turned the full force of his kind gaze on Miles, who suddenly felt the urge to shield his eyes from the metaphorical light. “I had a really good time today.”

Miles replied with an affectionate smile of his own. “I did as well.”

“Hey!” On Phoenix’s other side, Larry elbowed him with a bony arm, causing Phoenix to squawk indignantly. “I had fun too!”

Phoenix ruffled Larry’s thick hair with his free arm. “I’m glad, doofus.”

Larry grinned. “You’d better be.”

Without realizing it, Miles leaned further into Phoenix's shoulder as he squabbled with Larry. He froze for a second, then continued like nothing had happened. When Phoenix didn't react, Miles relaxed, slumping against his friend. Phoenix's hand brushed against his own. As Larry and Phoenix chattered excitedly, Miles zoned out, staring off into the ever-changing sunset. He rarely felt so comfortable.

A half an hour later, Father ceased his conversation with Phoenix’s mother and Larry’s older cousin and walked over to them, smiling. “All right, Miles. Ready to go?”

Miles nodded, jumping off the rock. “Yes, Father. Goodbye Phoenix, Larry!”

“Bye, Edgey!” Larry called, waving.

“Stop calling me that,” Miles muttered under his breath, but without much heat behind it. They both knew Larry would not stop calling him that.

Phoenix jumped off the rock to join him. “Bye, Miles! I had a lot of fun today!”

“Me too,” Miles replied, smiling.

Father took Miles’ hand in his, and together they walked out of the pool. As Father opened the pool deck door, Miles turned around and waved to his friends. Larry was preoccupied bothering his older sister (until Phoenix elbowed him pointedly), but Phoenix waved back enthusiastically, beaming.

“So, did you have a good time with your friends?” Father asked, once they were both situated in the car.

Miles thought of sweet ice cream in his mouth and the feel of shorn grass underneath his feet and Larry’s wriggling form avoiding his hands. He thought of Phoenix’s smile, as bright as the summer sun. “Yes, Father. I did.”

Father smiled, soft and affectionate. “Oh, Miles, I’m so glad.”

Fall

[October 9, 2029

5:04 PM

People Park]

The crisp crunch of leaves underfoot filled the air, dominating as the loudest sound once Athena and Trucy’s laughter faded into the distance. After their latest case finished up, Phoenix had driven his junior partners (and daughter/co-counsel) to the park to let off some steam. Some prosecutors had deigned to join them, and thus (somewhat disgruntledly, in Blackquill’s case) fell in with the kids running on ahead. Apollo, back from Khura'in on an extended vacation, was more than happy to join them and catch up.

Phoenix was content to let them run on ahead. He wasn’t as young as he used to be (even if he was only thirty-five). He strode through the park in a casual, easy gait, hands in his pockets.

It was nice. The fall breeze rustled through his spiky hair, and he closed his eyes in contentment. The wind was quite noisy, whistling through crinkly leaves and thin branches.

As he listened, he caught the telltale crunch of footsteps on fallen leaves. Phoenix opened his eyes with an easy grin to catch Edgeworth, stepping in time with him.

The late-afternoon sunlight, dappled as it filters through the tree cover, lit Miles’ dark gray coat in warm shades of silver. His hair and glasses shone in the light. Phoenix melted at the sight of him.

Miles had changed in the many years they’ve known each other. His shoulders got broader and his form more filled out, his hair became smoother and shinier, and the glasses perched on his nose made the changes all the more apparent. But to Phoenix, the real changes lay in the way Miles carried himself. He still had the confidence he had as a little kid and a prodigy prosecutor, but it manifested differently. Now his confidence was self-assured. Miles knew he’d worked hard for everything he had. He knew he deserved it.

“Hey there,” Phoenix said, eyes sparkling. “Nice of you to drop in.”

“Hello, yourself,” Miles replied. He met Phoenix’s gaze with an Edgeworth-brand warm, affectionate smile that never failed to make Phoenix all gooey inside.

Phoenix stepped closer, bridging the gap so their shoulders are brushing. Miles intertwined their hands, smiling so sweetly and chastely it made Phoenix’s entire face turn red.

Phoenix squeezed their joined hands

“Phoenix,” Miles sighed contentedly. “I am so happy to be here with you.”

Phoenix knew his face was lighting up, mostly because of the lovesick look Miles always made when it did. They melted in tandem, always together. “Love you too, Miles.”

As they walked, Phoenix tipped his head back, letting the dappled sunlight wash his face alight. He’d heard talks of love manifesting itself in a joy that made you feel weightless - hell, he’d felt that way himself, many times. Almost always with Miles himself. All the times that counted, at least. But today, like many other days, Miles’ hand in his was a comforting, grounding weight. He never felt trapped or limited, yet tethered to the ground all the same. It was the promise of someone there to catch him if he flew away again.

Dahlia (or Iris, really) made him feel unmoored, floating aimlessly without control. It was a dangerous game and he paid the price, but the honeymoon phase of love blinded him to the truth. With Miles, Phoenix still felt like he could float. But this time, he knew where he was going. He knew how to come back to Earth, where Miles would be waiting for him.

Phoenix dropped his head onto Miles’ shoulder, smiling as he heard the other hum contentedly. He could’ve stayed there forever, if not for the crick building in his neck. Stupid limited human body, breaking at the old age of thirty-five.

On the other side of the park, Trucy’s joyous shout caught both of the fathers’ attention. Their little posse of children, both official and unofficial, emerged from under the tree cover. Athena’s bright orange hair, usually so distinctive, blended in seamlessly with the fiery-golden autumn leaves. Phoenix would bet money the other kids had taken notice of this, if just for Blackquill’s smirk as he tugged gently on the tail end of Athena’s ponytail. Behind them, Klavier was laughing, beaming at Apollo with a lovesick grin Phoenix himself had mirrored many times looking at Miles. Apollo himself was blushing as red as his suit and fighting a ferocious smile. Trucy danced around them, light as a fairy on her feet as her pastel blue magician’s outfit floated around her. She caught everyone’s eye, sparking each of their smiles. At last, she spun, glancing across the park and finding Phoenix and Miles immediately. Her smile only grew, and Phoenix’s with it.

“We got lucky, didn’t we?” Phoenix murmured, squeezing Miles’ hand. “I don’t know if I could be happier.”

Miles hummed contemplatively. “I don’t know if luck is the right word,” he pondered. “It took a lot of hard work to get where we are now. Don’t sell yourself short, Phoenix.”

Phoenix huffed a small, breathy laugh. “I’ll try not to. The world certainly does too much of that.”

“Maybe so,” Miles agreed, but he pursed his lips thoughtfully like he didn’t quite believe himself. He spread his arms, gesturing to the pack of young attorneys across the park. “But look around you, Phoenix. You are surrounded by people who love and care for you. Not just here, but all over LA, and the world.”

Phoenix gently knocked his shoulder into Miles’. “That’s true,” he said, gazing softly at their faraway companions. “But the same’s true for you, you know?”

Miles followed his gaze, locked on the next generation of attorneys, so to speak. “I do,” he said, soft and full of love. “I never would have come this far if not for you in particular, Phoenix.”

Phoenix squeezed his hand. “Likewise,” he said warmly. “We’re good for each other, aren’t we?”

Miles smiled softly. “I would certainly say so.”

They lapsed into a comfortable silence as they continued their circle around the park. In the distance, the kids had passed three-fourths of the way ahead of Phoenix and Miles, and were disconcertingly close to lapping them completely.

“I want to have a get-together,” Phoenix said suddenly. He noticed Miles’ head snapped towards him in his peripheral vision, but his focus was far away. “It’s been too long since we’ve seen Maya and Pearls. And there’s a bunch of people who live right here in LA that we never see! I’m tired of it.”

Miles smiled fondly, brushing his thumb over Phoenix’s knuckles. “I am in complete agreement. I will do my best to secure my sister from her Interpol business.”

“Maya’ll like that,” Phoenix said, the corners of his mouth twisting up in a teasing grin, even though the object of his mirth was far away. “As will I.”

“Good, then it’s settled,” Edgeworth declared. He pushed up his glasses so they flashed in the light. “We shall begin planning immediatel- Nghoooh!”

Phoenix noticed the pounding footsteps and peals of laughter from behind a second too late. He turned just in time to see Trucy, Athena, Blackquill, and Klavier (Apollo was pointedly hanging off to the side and trying to pretend he wasn’t watching), sporting matching mischievous grins, barreling into him and Miles. They landed in a pile of fallen leaves just off the path, sending leaves and twigs flying.

Phoenix coughed and groaned, stretching his poor back. “What the heck was that for?!”

“Just for fun, Daddy,” Trucy giggled. “You and Papa looked a bit too serious. We just wanted to lighten the mood!”

“Objection.” Miles sat up, coughing. “We were quite literally discussing our affections for each other.”

“Aww,” Klavier and Athena cooed in tandem. Apollo rolled his eyes.

Trucy shrugged, unrepentant. “Well, it still lightened the mood, didn’t it? Anyway, that’s what you slowpokes get for ditching us!”

“You ditched us!” Phoenix protested.

“Either way,” Athena said as she offered a hand to Phoenix, who gratefully accepted, “You should walk the next lap with us. We’ll slow down for you,” she added cheekily.

Phoenix grumbled good-naturedly. “Fine, but we’re setting the pace.”

“How many laps are we walking, again?” he heard Blackquill mutter to Apollo.

As their newly-merged group set off, Phoenix slung an arm around Miles’ shoulder. Trucy’s hand found his free one. Phoenix smiled and tipped his head back to the sky.

There was nowhere else he would rather be. There was no one he would rather be with.

"Thank you for being in my life," he whispered into Miles' ear.

Miles glanced back at him, curious. "I bestow the same compliment onto you," he replied, smiling. "Tenfold."

"Oh, shush, if you get to increase it so do I," Phoenix snorted, swatting at Miles (which was a little difficult since his arm was still wrapped around Miles' shoulder). "Let's just say it's equal, okay?"

"The prosecution accepts the defense's proposition," Miles agreed. "I love you.”

hello, everyone! this is my first completed and published work in the ace attorney fandom, and i'm really excited about it!

if you saw this work pop up on ao3 yesterday for like five minutes... no you didn't ;) i was up at around midnight two days ago night working on this. i double-checked the timeline for narumitsu week and i was like hey wait a minute. it's the sixth. tomorrow's the seventh. oh fuck i am nowhere near done. i was hoping to publish this early in the day too, so it would be in the tag all day. i may have rushed through the ending of this fic yesterday thinking it was the final day of the week. i published it on ao3 and then checked the narumitsu week tumblr blog to see how i'm supposed to tag and publish tumblr posts. i was like hey there are no day 7 entries. that's really odd. i checked tnhe blog, the tag, the blog again, etc etc. i was freaking out akdhksla! i finally glanced at the date and i was like hey wait a minute. it's only the sixth. i screwed myself up khfkala;sdl. also i almost forgot about narumitsu week until day 2, when i speedran this fic (and a couple other snippets based on prompts i might finish and publish later). i figured i'd try and get at least one contribution for the final day, which seemed easy enough, but i got distracted a lot haha.

god the amount of times i accidentally wrote in present tense and had to go back and edit aaaaaaaaa

im pretty sure edgeworth was never actually there in july, but this was the perfect setting for the kiddos, so... just suspend your disbelief for a lil bit. they deserve a summer pool day. the pool in question was based a lot on the community pool near my house, where i grew up swimming competitively for five or so years! it's built on a hill, and the upper part of the space is taken up by a grassy field and a clubhouse. so in my mind that's where phoenix, miles, and larry go for their tickle fight.

also the bit about edgeworth not knowing he's supposed to get crushes when he has one is basically the reverse of my personal experience skdfhks. i'm aroace, and around fourth/fifth grade i got nervous around a guy who intimidated me and i was like hmm. this person scares me, but he's funny and i want to be friends. he's a boy and i'm a girl (or so i thought LMAO). is this a crush? autistic kids who don't understand the social norms of crushes solidarity is real. it's between me and a game character but it's real.

title is from put your records on by corrine bailey rae! i've been saving this particular lyric for a title for a long time, and i'm really happy to finally find a fic where it really fits!

this is a bit messy and i'm still getting used to the characters' voices but it was really fun to write. if you read this far, thank you c:

if you ever wanna talk ace attorney, writing, these amazing characters, or really anything hmu here on tumblr or on my twitter! i have terminal ace attorney brainrot and i cannot talk about it enough. i really need more aa friends, haha. thank you for reading, and please leave a kudos/comment if you enjoyed it!

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youngbounty · 4 years

Text

Manfred Von Karma is NOT Miles Edgeworth’s Adopted Father!

I will admit that there are a ton of misconceptions in Ace Attorney, mostly because most of the fans I meet rather have not finished all the games or only know of it through the anime. I was originally planning on doing a list of misconceptions, but once this popped out, I realized this one deserved a blog of its own. I'm going to use this to tear apart this misconception and why it doesn't work.

I heard about the idea of Manfred Von Karma adopting Miles Edgeworth when I saw it in the Ace Attorney Wiki. I had already played the first game and was currently playing Justice For All. I had never heard of this. Now, Franziska did clarify that Miles Edgeworth was like her little brother and I repeat LIKE her little brother, but that was it. It is very common in anime's for characters to have those they consider a big brother/sister or little brother/sister figure and even call them as such, but are not literal siblings.

I suppose the team that worked on the anime and thought, "you know what would be a great idea? We should have Manfred Von Karma adopt Miles Edgeworth. I mean, it's not like the original game clarified WHO Edgeworth lived with like a filthy rich aunt or that Miles had other relatives or friends of the family that could've adopted him!" Then, forgot to do their homework and read the script for Justice For All, because then they would've known Edgeworth did have a rich aunt or the Investigations games to know his father had someone working for him that was old enough to adopt Miles. Whoops! Oh, but that's just the tip of the iceberg.

Manfred Von Karma adopting Miles Edgeworth especially doesn't make sense, because it goes against canon. After Manfred Von Karma murdered Gregory Edgeworth, he ran off and took a month off vacation somewhere. Now, the length of time of Yanni Yogi's trial is never mentioned, but do you expect me to believe that Miles just sat in his empty home for a month without anyone offering to care for him or being placed under foster care before Manfred Von Karma signs the adoption papers? This is aside from the fact that, even after a month, his gunshot wound is still healing and probably has an obvious scar on his shoulder. Von Karma might as well be taking his potential enemy in his house with a stamp on his forehead reading I KILLED YOUR FATHER.

Speaking of moving into Von Karma's house, do you also expect me to believe that Miles Edgeworth had lived with that man almost all his life and never once heard Manfred Von Karma screaming as loud as he did until Turnabout Goodbyes? At least as Manfred Von Karma's student, we can assume that Miles Edgeworth already had his own place to live and did not ever see Manfred Von Karma's private life. Did Miles Edgeworth never catch onto the fact that his mentor or adopted father murder his real father? Manfred Von Karma isn't exactly a genius or that good at covering his tracks. That's why he had to destroy the evidence of DL-6. You can't tell me that the genius prosecutor had lived with his mentor from age 9 on up and never heard him scream from stubbing his toe or seen him dressing at some point with that too obvious gunshot wound. When you live with someone, you tend to learn things about that person's private life. Even if I were to believe that Manfred Von Karma never allowed Miles to see him shirtless or dressing, I still wouldn't believe there was never a point in time Miles never walked in or heard Franzy talking about her daddy's shoulder wound. She is two years old and until she is at least five, she'd be jabbering like crazy.

Now, most people often use the excuse that it's because Manfred Von Karma wanted to beat the dead horse that was Gregory Edgeworth. Now, when I was still finishing the trilogy, I did believe this, but then I played the Miles Edgeworth Investigations games and realized this wasn't true. For one, Manfred Von Karma had treated Miles Edgeworth well and continually praised him for his work. Not only that, but he allowed Miles Edgeworth to disagree with him from time to time. In the Casebooks, it clarified that Manfred Von Karma and Miles did normally fuss, meaning they disagreed openly and sometimes threw each other under the bus. For the most part, they had a healthy teacher and student relationship and Manfred continually pushed Miles to his limits and had high expectations of him. If Manfred Von Karma intended on using Miles Edgeworth for being the son of Gregory Edgeworth, he would've been much more abusive to Miles. This is something even the anime makes clear. It's clear that Manfred Von Karma did respect and care for Miles. He only betrayed Miles out of desperation and even Turnabout Goodbyes makes it clear that Miles was the one willing to turn himself in for his father's murder, not Manfred Von Karma.

This goes to the final reason why I don't believe Manfred Von Karma adopted Miles Edgeworth and why I hate that idea. Manfred Von Karma would never EVER frame his children for a murder. Manfred Von Karma takes pride in his family to the point he will brag how great his wife's cooking is despite the fact she's an amateur or how his granddaughter has a dog named Phoenix. You really believe this man would frame his son for murder that he adopted as his own? I'm not saying that Manfred Von Karma isn't a horrible person, because he is, but he's not Blaise Debeste. He wouldn't throw his child under the bus like that. His student is a different story.

Miles Edgeworth being Manfred Von Karma's student and ONLY his student holds water. It means that Miles wasn't loved by Manfred Von Karma, but was respected and taught by him. Miles Edgeworth being betrayed by Manfred Von Karma only means that he was desperate and fearful that Miles would find out the truth. Being student and mentor doesn't mean that they have a parent and child relationship just like Phoenix Wright and Apollo Justice being teacher and student doesn't mean they have a father and son relationship. Having Miles Edgeworth be the adopted son of Manfred Von Karma only puts him on the same level as Blaise Debeste. Manfred Von Karma might be a horrible person, but he's not a horrible father and would never hurt his children the way he hurt Miles.

When I see the anime portray Manfred Von Karma as a father in the flashbacks before framing his son for murder, it shows me the biggest contradiction. It's like hearing the story how the father went from a loving father to an abusive one without the dead wife to give him a reason to turn abusive. One could use the excuse that Miles was only the step kid and that's why he was easily thrown under the bus, but then why would Manfred have an excellent relationship with Miles before suddenly throwing him under the bus? Again, if they were mentor and student, then we can conclude they never loved each other and only admired each other. Love and admiration are two different things. If Miles were adopted, then we would have to place love into the equation and Manfred would have to love or hate Miles. He can't have both.

Now, does that mean I hate the idea of Miles Edgeworth being the adopted son of Manfred Von Karma? No, not really. I just hate the idea of making it canon. If it was a what-if AU or something, then I'd probably enjoy it. Of course, it does have to make sense in context. Manfred can't just adopt Miles right off the bat or at least without a reason that isn't beating the dead horse that's Gregory. Maybe he regrets killing Gregory, because his son is without family and adopts him. Maybe he kidnaps Miles and tries to brainwash him. I'd like to read fan fictions of those possibilities, but treated as AU's. In canon, they're not father and son.

That's all I have to say. I wanted to get this off my chest, since so many people think this is canon and even the Ace Attorney Wiki considers Manfred Von Karma and Miles Edgeworth to be father and son. As I have just proven, they are not. They are mentor and student. Now, Manfred Von Karma might've been a father figure to Miles and I wouldn't put that out of the realm of possibilities, but being a father figure and being a real father are two different relationships.

What do you guys think? What's your opinion on Manfred Von Karma being Miles Edgeworth's adopted father?

#ace attorney #manfred von karma #miles edgeworth #not canon #student and teacher #Manfred Von Karma adopting Miles Edgeworth is not canon

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wardencommanderrodimiss · 5 years

Text

Witches, Chapter 14: the prelude to the one you’ve all been waiting for.

[Seelie of Kurain Chapter Masterlist] [ao3]

[Witches Chapter Masterlist] [ao3]

----

“Chief! Chief!”

“Phoenix, you can’t come screaming in here banging doors and - what if we had a client? That hardly looks professional.”

“Er, right, sorry, Chief. But, look! I got my badge! I passed the Bar!”

“You did? - You did! Phoenix, that’s incredible! You deserve to be proud - scream that to the world, show off that you have your attorney’s badge! I expected no less of you, of course. I knew you could!”

“Heh, really? I wasn’t so sure there, myself.”

“Would I lie to you?”

“Well, you couldn’t, so there’s that - seriously, Chief, I - I couldn’t have done this without you. I wouldn’t be here without you. I don’t know how I could ever thank you enough, or pay you back, or—”

“You don’t need to thank me, Phoenix, really. You don’t owe me anything. As long as I can help, I’ll be here.”

Was his badge always this light and this tiny in his palm? It should be heavier. It should be weightier. It’s supposed to be weightier after it’s saved lives and ruined them. Everything it means, and it’s just this little sliver of metal, as shiny as when he was a rookie. After he put three years of wear onto his first one, too, looked like he’d been around the block as a lawyer once or twice, and now he’s starting over from the bottom again.

Or worse than that, because when he started out he had no reputation but Mia’s, and now he has his own name, the highs and lows of it. Who is Phoenix Wright? The man who defended Will Powers, Max Galactica, Mask de Masque. (Scratch Matt Engarde.) The man who felled Manfred von Karma, Damon Gant. The man who defended Zak Gramarye. (Zak goddamn Gramarye.) The man who felled Kristoph Gavin.

(Though there’s some who still think he positioned Kristoph Gavin to take the fall for him.)

If it wasn’t for Edgeworth (again; first to save him, now to save someone else at his behest) he wouldn’t have bothered. Not with his name bitter on the tongues of half the legal system and this new little badge with its sheen dulled by tarnish and grime only Phoenix can see. But it’s Edgeworth, so Phoenix is here, and while he’s here, he supposes he can show Athena that all her admiration of him, all her faith in him, wasn’t hollow. That he can be who she thinks he is.

He can show Apollo that he’s more than the director hiding in the wings, the puppetmaster behind set. That he can be more than Apollo knows he is.

They won’t have to run his errands anymore. He won’t give them more reason to resent him.

But even thinking that - and even knowing that this accomplishment he wants to share stems inextricably from to all his failures that won’t be far from their minds - he’s still excited to tell them, to present this new badge to them.

Sometimes he’d swear he’s running a daycare.

He’ll freely admit he’s not an organized person and that his daughter has learned from him. She doesn’t put her magic props away because “I’ll just need them again soon anyway!” which is absolutely fair reasoning. But the playing cards and hula-hoops and plastic spaghetti don’t make the place look dignified, and it’s even less when he enters, ready to proudly show off his badge, to find the couches turned around to face the ancient TV that usually only plays the news, and Athena flinging herself up off the couch, a notebook raised as a weapon, at Apollo who has begun to walk away.

“How can you suggest such a thing!” she demands, indignant and raring for a fight. “This show is therapeutic!”

“You’ve watched it five times already!” Apollo roars back. His loud voice is about the only thing that lets him keep up with Trucy and Athena, Phoenix is pretty sure. They have the energy, but he has the volume. “That inane pirate song getting stuck in my head is not therapeutic!”

“Uh, guys?” Phoenix interrupts. “Boss here, asking a question, y’know, what do you think?” He gestures at his lapel area where the new badge - he still has trouble thinking of it as his badge - is pinned.

“But animal-assisted therapy is a real and valid thing and that’s why getting membership cards to the local aquariums here is paramount to my study of psychology—”

“Are you trying to justify it to write it off on your taxes?”

“Is there any work you should be doing?” Phoenix says, louder this time, and apparently the word work flips some switch in their brains, causing both to jump, and Athena to lower the notebook.

“We both already cleaned the toilet—” Apollo says.

“A couple times because he thinks I didn’t do good enough,” Athena adds.

“—and watered Charley.”

“But not with toilet water,” Athena adds, which instead of reassuring Phoenix makes him worry about a matter he had no reason to be concerned about a second ago. “So y’know.” She flashes a reflexive peace sign.

“And what if it was a potential client who walked in, instead of me? That hardly looks professional.”

“Er.” Athena’s eyes dart toward Apollo, searching for help.

“Sorry.”

Phoenix sighs. They barely respect him, but why should they? He’s given them space to work out of and left them alone enough that whatever unprofessional mess they make is their problems, not his. “Back to whatever you’re arguing about,” he says wearily.

They glance at each other again, obviously aware that he’s bothered, that it’s probably something about them - how many complexities must Athena hear in his voice right now? - but she’s also still passionately heated about whatever this aquarium argument is and can’t drop it yet. “And the orca pirate song is not any more inane than whatever tunes you hum while you do paperwork, Apollo!”

She probably doesn’t know what tunes those are, but Phoenix can absolutely guess what they are by the way Apollo’s face flushes. Oh, to be in his twenties and just casually crushing on his courtroom rival instead of being thirty-something and pathetic about it.

He starts past them, back to his desk. Athena raises the notebook threateningly again, Apollo puts the couch between himself and her, and all the lights in the office burn out with a horrible burst of static. The blinds clatter heavily down over the windows. Athena shrieks - christ, has he told her about Mia? No, he didn’t. (“It’s all need-to-know with you,” Edgeworth grumbled, once, some or another time within a seven year span, “and you think no one else needs to know.” Apollo asked about the office, so Phoenix told him. Athena hasn’t asked.)

Apollo, a little more used to her whims, still jumps, but silently.

“Why?” Phoenix asks. The light directly above him hums back to life, a makeshift spotlight. “Okay, that’s a little much.”

But he only realizes what she’s doing when Apollo blurts, “Wait, Mr Wright, that badge—”

It’s extra shiny in this light. Mia knows her dramatics.

“You passed the Bar! You got your badge back!” Athena drops the notebook and claps her hands together. “Congrats!”

It might just be a psychological trick of the light, the way it’s focused on him and nowhere else, or maybe it’s Athena beaming at him and Apollo’s astonished expression slowly opening up into a grin, or a combination thereof, but a warmth is gathering in his chest. It replaces the cold confusion that clung to him since he first took this new badge in hand. “Thanks, guys,” he says, and he finds he means it, even if it took Mia smacking them around the head. The rest of the lights spring back on, though the TV remains off. Mia never really cared for television, not even the news; Phoenix later found out, or realized, that she was looking for Redd White’s hand in every broadcast, every spin on a story, and she couldn’t concentrate on anything else if local news rumbled on in the background.

“You look like a real lawyer,” Apollo says, with clear admiration. Almost the way he sounded when Phoenix first met him, though without the stammering and stumbling. “Like you’re capable!”

He is not going to ask if that means he didn’t look capable before. He knows the answer.

“So!” Athena puts her hands on her hips. “When do we get to see the chief in action?”

“Huh?” he asks. The warmth of moments ago is a little too hot now, boiling him. “Who?”

“You, duh! Like Mr Edgeworth is the Chief Prosecutor, you’re the Chief Defense! Chief Anything Agency!”

“No thanks,” he says. Athena’s shoulders hike up slightly, her concentration increasing even as he fights to level his voice. “Just stick with ‘Boss’. Or my name, that works even better.”

Athena isn’t subtle, turning to Apollo for help understanding, help she’s not going to get from him on this.

“I don’t want that much responsibility,” Phoenix jokes, or he’s trying to joke, and it’s true but also not really the reason. “And anyway, ideally you’re not seeing me in action; ideally” - he’s allowed to dream - “we’ll actually have clients and you and Apollo will have your cases, and I’ve got mine, and you’re hopefully too busy to watch me go bungle my second attempt at a career.”

Self-deprecating humor is maybe not the only kind he has left, but it’s definitely that which he knows best how to wield. It started as another weapon in his arsenal against Kristoph: misdirection and diversion by confirming of all the worst that Kristoph thought of him. Phoenix Wright is a lawyer with only luck and no skill; Phoenix Wright has everything he does because some of the fae, and not just any but the royal fae, handed it to him. Phoenix Wright is so goddamn incompetent without them that he stumbled into an enchantment and lost everything he had been given.

(The thing about that last statement was, looking back on the transcript of the trial, he knows even if there hadn’t been enchantments layered on the diary page - Kristoph’s clumsy attempt to fortify Vera’s beautifully-and-unknowingly-cast spell that made it convincing evidence despite its dubious source - he would have presented it anyway. He didn’t have another bluff left. He just had Mia’s advice, believing in his client - he had Mia and that day in court she couldn’t save him. The truth of it: Phoenix Wright, so goddamn incompetent that even with help of the fae he lost everything.)

“Man, all this preparation you do for cases,” Phoenix would say, leaning his elbow on Kristoph’s desk and lazily waving at all the paperwork that he had so carefully organized on his desk. “Ever thought about my tried-and-true wing-it-and-bluff?” he’d ask, and Kristoph would smile tightly and pretend that it was funny and that he didn’t hate Phoenix, and right back Phoenix would pretend that he didn’t hate Kristoph.

(But the thing about carrying on like that was that, at some point, Phoenix came to hate Phoenix too.)

Neither Athena nor Apollo has this in common with Kristoph - because Phoenix is the man who gave Athena her faith that defense attorneys can save people, and because Apollo knows what it’s like to be the flailing, bluffing one, and that it’s not indicative of incompetence but more the kind of bullshit cases they end up saddled with. Neither of them expect the self-deprecation - neither of them agree. (Apollo’s reasons to hate him aren’t these.) And they’re both staring at him trying to figure out whether he believes his own joke, whether “I hope the agency is busy” is just a thin veneer for “I want neither of you around”.

Which - to be fair to them for asking that question, he really doesn’t. Better for them not to find out what it’s like investigating alongside a man as cursed as he is, how those cases twist and turn worse and worse, more than what Apollo has already experienced. The way culprits shift: Redd White moving suspicion from Maya to Phoenix himself; SL-9 falling onto Ema’s shoulders because he tried to save Lana; Ron DeLite going from theft suspect to murder suspect; Godot letting the accusation fall on Maya once Iris was exonerated, just to see if Phoenix was capable of solving the case, whether he’d really been worth it for Mia to save. And then the weirder things: the amnesia, the doppelganger who tried to damn Maggey. Edgeworth escaping a guilty verdict only to make a confession, saved only to die. (“Die”, air quotes. Saving people is a funny thing. They’re only human. And even ones who aren’t human can only do so much.)

All Apollo’s had is a client he personally charged with smuggling, and that was moving a step up from murder.

(Okay, yeah, there were both the Kristoph situations, Apollo exonerating his client by indicting his mentor, and Vera’s poisoning, but Phoenix was there for both of those so he can say those are his fault.)

“Yeah,” Apollo says finally, after he and Athena share a glance that says they’re probably going to be discussing this later, “based on precedent, that’s not happening.”

“Ah, but that’s before you’ve become the heroes of Nine-Tails Vale and Tenma Town, yes?” Phoenix asks with a grin.

Apollo does not share his amusement. “I didn’t set out to be a yokai lawyer,” he says.

Phoenix didn’t want to be a fae lawyer - or, Mia was a fae lawyer, and Phoenix is a lawyer for the fae - and it happened anyway. His career is not something that should be replicated, but it might already be too late for Apollo. “Making names for yourselves, however it happens, is a good start,” he says. “You probably won’t get stuck in a niche from two cases.”

“Y’know, Boss, I hope you’ll sound more confident encouraging your clients than you do with us,” Athena says.

“The clients won’t have your ears, though,” Phoenix says.

“No, you don’t sound at all confident to me either,” Apollo says.

Go figure. Was he always bad at this, or over the years has he lost yet something else? “Noted,” he says. “Thanks for the advice, kids. I’m still gonna recommend you not yell at each other in the front room. Save that shit for after hours.”

Athena chuckles and Apollo sighs and that seems a quick summation of each of their relationships to him. He heads to his desk, finding it cleaner than he remembers it last night, which means either Apollo organized it while he and Athena have been rattling around their cage today, or Mia’s gift to him in honor of passing the Bar again is to give him one day that she’s not on his case for being a disorganized mess.

She’d like Apollo. She does like Apollo, Phoenix sees that plainly, but they should have gotten the chance to work together. Stand in court together. He’s got a whole damn list of people he wishes Mia could have spoken with; all three of the kids are right at the top. It’s not fair, not in the least. It never is.

Athena’s voice drifts loudly in from the front room. “Hey,” Phoenix says, sticking his head back out. “What’d I just say?” he asks. They really don’t respect him at all do they. “If you really have to yell at each other, go back into the kitchen or somewhere.”

“We have a kitchen?” Athena asks.

“Only sometimes,” Apollo says. Right, he’d been taken by surprise by its existence, too.

“Anyway that’s not important right now!” Athena is still yelling. Phoenix ventures further into the room. She points at the television screen. “Apollo! You heard me! We have to go investigate!”

“If we don’t have a client, we’re not gonna be allowed to run around a crime scene,” Apollo says slowly, like that will make the words sink in. “Not unless we were already on site when the crime was discovered, are friends with the detective, and the prosecution is neurotic and stressed enough that he doesn’t care that you’re there, and even then, witnesses aren’t going to talk to you because you aren’t anyone officially on the case.”

Based on how Trucy relayed it, that must be the Tobaye case, over at Sunshine Coliseum, that he’s talking about. “What is it that you want to investigate?” Phoenix asks.

“The aquarium we were just talking about!” Athena sounds frantic, and Widget can’t settle on shock or anger. “The owner was found dead, under suspicion of being murdered! And a suspect in custody! We’ve gotta do something!”

There’d be a lesson here about how she tries to stretch herself thin doing everything that isn’t her job if they had anything else they could possibly be doing, but they don’t.

And then it is their job, because a young woman who looks like she’s just come from a costume party at the beach, barrels in and asks which one of them is Phoenix Wright.

As far as coincidences go, this is one of the sort where Phoenix would worry that Maya had murdered a man and sent the suspect’s friend over to the office to request Phoenix’s help, as a celebration of him getting his badge back. Except Phoenix hasn’t told Maya, yet, and even if it was that, it still wouldn’t account for Athena chattering about the aquarium minutes ago. Chalk one up to the possibility of fate or destiny and move on.

The young woman’s name is Sasha Buckler, and she, as Athena guesses, works at Shipshape Aquarium, the site of one of Los Angeles’ latest murders. Her friend, the accused, is in custody down at the aquarium. And she needs the “Wright” man for the job to help her.

“Don’t tell me she’s here because of a bad pun,” Apollo mutters.

Surely not, and not just because it’s a pretty good pun, all considered. “I’ve been all over the city already, actually,” Sasha says, her mouth set in a hard line, “and all those lawyers said there’s no merit to the case, or they can’t help! Hearts colder than the depths of the Mariana Trench!”

“Ugh!” Now Widget has settled firmly in anger, and Athena once again ready to upend the entire legal establishment. “How awful! To have a friend in need, and no one else on your side…”

This far out of practice and diving in headfirst - he can’t not. It’s why he’s a defense attorney. “Okay, Sasha,” he says, taking a deep breath to steady his stomach, the resuming fear of fucking it all up, “I’ll take your case.”

“You - you will?” The words take a moment to settle, and Sasha lights up. “You will! That’s great! We’d better get to the aquarium right away so you can meet her!”

“All right!” Athena says. “Do you need a lift back? I can drive us!”

“Wait.” Phoenix turns to her. “Athena. You’re not—”

“Not coming? Of course I’m coming! You’ll need a co-counsel, right?” Because the last time he defended without one went so far wrong. “And I’ve been to the aquarium before, and I know a lot more about it, so I can help if Sasha isn’t around!”

That one is a good point, but the sick churning in his stomach resumes. It’s going to go wrong. She’s going to be disappointed in what she finds, what working with him is actually like. How his cases actually go. And she’s already invited herself out the door, taking Sasha with her, asking about the penguins and the puffins and all the other denizens of the sea. Helpless, Phoenix turns to Apollo, who is gesturing at the door with his eyebrows raised questioningly. “You’ve gotta hold down the fort, at least until Trucy gets back,” Phoenix says.

“Right,” he says darkly, seeming to have expected that answer but not happy about it, either. “Got it.”

Phoenix catches up with the girls at Athena’s car, to find himself relegated to the back seat.

The client, Sasha’s friend, the one accused of killing the aquarium owner, is an orca.

Phoenix should have asked Sasha for more details about her friend while they drove over, but she and Athena spent most of their time in loud animated conversation and he hadn’t been sure he could get a word in edgewise. Athena is, apparently, with all her other interests, huge into marine biology, and she establishes her favorite animals practically immediately with Sasha. “I’m more of a dolphins and seals gal, myself,” Sasha said. “You like sea birds though, huh?”

“And dolphins!” Athena says. “They’re so cool - and so smart! I can’t believe you get to work with the orca in the Swashbuckler Spectacular! But birds, yeah, all of them - even sea gulls, ‘cause I hate to project human morality and personal awareness and personality onto animals, but those little bastards definitely know what they’re doing. I remember, way back when I was a little kid, the - the one day we went out to the pier, me and my friend and - my mom and, um, another family friend” - she trips over all the words about people from the past, and she doesn’t talk much about life before Europe, but Phoenix does know that her mother died years ago - “and we tried to get lunch and the gulls—”

After that ride, Phoenix is on the other side of the city, finding out that Sasha either forgot or - he suspects - deliberately didn’t mention the identity of her “friend”, who is a killer whale wearing a pirate hat and fake mustache. “See, when I was asking around for a lawyer for Orla here, I was told about you and your office, that you don’t discriminate against animals - that you’d questioned one as a witness and got your client off the hook that way!” Phoenix wouldn’t call that doesn’t discriminate, but rather fucking desperate, but Sasha is beaming and he doesn’t know how he’s going to turn her down. “And I just knew you were the person who could help me, and save her!”

Who told her about that? Either someone who thought there might be some merit to defending an orca but already had a full caseload on the platter, or someone who’s having a laugh at Phoenix’s expense. Or both. Put both of those thoughts together, and add that ten years after the fact, that someone who spoke with Sasha remembers Phoenix for the parrot stunt and not just the Gramarye debacle, and - oh hell, it was Raymond, wasn’t it.

“I am texting Apollo right now to remind him to tell me about that case,” Athena says, and true to her word she pulls her phone from her pocket. “Right now.”

“That was - that was a lot different.” Phoenix stares at the orca with its head poked up out of the pool. Its little tweets and chirps are cute, certainly, and the hat, but it’s also a fucking orca. It doesn’t talk, is the first of many problems. There’s also got to be a reason they’re called what they are. “So, uh, killer whales, y’know - they don’t eat people, do they?”

Said killer whale pops back out of the water and whistles angrily at him. Sasha glares. “Of course not!” she snaps. “And don’t say things like that in front of her! She’s got feelings, and you’re making her feel bad!”

“Yeah!” Athena chimes in, and Phoenix wonders if he had Apollo here, would Apollo be on his side or not.

“Orla here only eats fish,” Sasha says. “In the wild orcas eat” - she shudders and her pirate jewelry loudly jingles - “seals, too, but we can’t exactly get those, so it’s just tons of fish!” She smiles fondly at the orca, and after several seconds of it making some more noises and smacking the water with its flippers, she says, “Orla says she forgives you for the question.”

Wouldn’t want a killer whale to hold a grudge against him, but either Sasha’s taking the piss out of him, or she actually—

A quick check confirms two things: that Orla the orca is indeed only an orca, which makes this entire situation both better and worse, but Sasha is not merely human.

Shimmering whiskers brush out along her cheeks, and the hands she gestures with are gloved in translucent, grayish-tan flippers, complete with claws on the ends. Dark speckles, most almost star-shaped like the stage makeup around one of Sasha’s eyes, aren’t set against her skin but hover just above it, on the level of her flippers, a second skin invisible in some places but all encompassing. And her features are bold and apparent about her, more than a ghost of a transformation she’s never made - she’s more like Kay, whose feathers are bold along her arms and through her hair, than Lang, who even with the Sight has to be in a certain light for his eyes to glint yellow or a wolf’s ears to show up out of his hair.

The killer whale trainer is a seal. Her other form ranks on the food chain directly below the creature she works with. He could almost laugh.

He doesn’t, of course. That really wouldn’t help shit; Athena would certainly yell at him for it. She’s heated as anything with the detective - a man built like a brick wall as much as Gumshoe is, but even louder and, really, just obnoxious. He introduced himself as “Fulbright” and Athena says they worked opposite him on Mayor Tenma’s case and from that one occasion, three months ago, she obviously has the read on him, and importantly, knows how to manipulate him. She’s ready to fight, teeth bared and fists up, and Phoenix is not going to get in her way.

And Sasha is looking at Phoenix with stars in her eyes, like he’s really the man who can put an end to this nightmare. She’s looking at him the way Athena did all those years ago when she told him she made him believe that it’s possible for a defense attorney to win. The way Apollo did in the courthouse lobby, before Phoenix sent him and the trial both straight to hell.

For someone who actually believes in him, however deserving or not he may be - he’ll do it. Athena’s cracked Fulbright open and provided a window of opportunity. “Detective Fulbright,” he says. “Sasha. I’ll defend Orla in court. Even an orca deserves a fair trial and a thorough investigation. If the aquarium’s owner is dead and can’t take responsibility for her, then I will.”

Sasha beams brighter. Fulbright, finally struck silent, gapes at them. “Oh, so we’re outdoing your last craziness now, huh, Boss?” Athena asks. She smacks her fist into her open palm. “What the helll-eck, what the heck, I’m on board with this! I’ll take responsibility for her too!”

First client with his badge back on his lapel, and it’s a selkie and her orca. The more things change, the more they stay just as goddamn weird as they always have been.

#roddy fanfics #fic: the witches of los angeles

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brokensmileswritings · 7 years

Text

Chapter 4 Beta read version

It was too much for Apollo to take in. After seeing his boss being hauled away in handcuffs, he wasn’t sure where he stood at this point since his mind was a whirlwind of emotions and thoughts. Who would take him on now- a defence attorney who incarcerated his own boss?

Yet, at the same time, here he was being offered an opportunity of a lifetime. Phoenix Wright, now cleared of murder for the third time and his idol, was offering him a job.

Apollo watched the man sitting on the other side of the booth from him, sipping his coffee, the magician girl sitting quietly beside him. It turned out that her name was Trucy and she was Mr Wright’s adopted daughter, having adopted her after the last trial he had taken as a defence attorney.

“Penny for your thoughts, Apollo.” The older man’s concern was touching as the younger looked down at his cup of coffee.

“I… have so many questions… like..” Apollo stopped, flushing beet red. “How did this happen to you? You were a respected attorney with a promising career. How could everyone just… lose faith in you?”

Mr. Wright looked serious for a moment, his fingers toying absentmindedly with the handle of his coffee cup. “It’s a long story, Apollo. “

“I have time. It’s not like I will do anything else now I am unemployed,” Apollo muttered tartly. “How can I trust you, especially after what you just told me?”

As he now knew, when Olga had said in her testimony that Mr Wright had *strangled* Shadi Smith, she was out right lying. Mr. Wright hadn’t strangled him; all he had done was take a locket that was around the victim’s neck.

When Mr. Wright paused to take another sip of coffee, Trucy took that moment to excuse herself, slipping out from the booth and walking toward the front counter. Mr. Wright turned to Apollo after she was lost to sight. “Shadi Smith was Trucy’s biological father.” Mr. Wright’s voice was hard and clipped, taking a large swallow of his coffee. “He had no need for the locket anymore since he is dead and I am Trucy’s legal guardian. That was the reason why I took it.”

Apollo nodded, sighing, still uneasy, taking a shaky sip. He was so confused that he didn’t trust himself to speak and sat in silence until Trucy’s return a few moments later. She took one look at the expression on his face and jumped to her father’s defence, instantly divining the reason behind it.

“Polly, Daddy is a good guy!” she scolded, slipping in to sit beside her father once again and patting the back of his hand. “Sure, he is sneaky but he has a good heart!“ She looked at him, that beaming smile returning to her face. "Come and work for us!”

Trucy’s cheerful voice shattered the cloud of doubt in his mind but something about her seemed… familiar, somehow, but he couldn’t understand why.

“Wait… US? Plural?” Apollo blurted out, his face reddening slightly. “What do you mean? You work too? You’re only 15!” Surely Mr. Wright wouldn’t force his daughter to work… would he? Mr. Wright just chuckled. “The only work she does is just her homework. She uses the office to practice tricks and entertain my clients and a little magic really helps relax anyone nervous about meeting me. As I am sure you found out for yourself.”

Apollo had to agree with that one.

“Besides,” he added, a mischievous glimmer in his eye, “how else would she get her allowance?”

Apollo was beginning to understand that the man he was sitting opposite him was crafty, but a good father to his daughter. He was reminded him so much of Dhurke for a moment that Apollo closed his eyes and rubbed his wrist.

“Polly, did you know that when you are nervous, the muscles in your wrist tighten? “ Trucy inquired, her eyes flickering down to his wrist and then back up again.

“Huh??” Apollo stuttered, looking down at his bracelet in shock

Mr. Wright chuckled. “Trucy is the one that taught me how to look for tics and twitches and it looks like she found yours!” He paused for a moment, taking another sip of his coffee.“ I found out about it when I invited an old friend of mine, Larry, around for a game of cards; Truce couldn’t sleep, so she watched me. When I got drinks for everyone, she informed me of Larry’s rather obvious twitch: He sticks his tongue out when he’s thinking. After that, I sort of knew what to look for.”

Apollo nodded again. Why was talking to this man making him so nervous?

“Mr. Wright…” He stuttered, his face reddening as he struggled to make his foolish mouth work.

“Please, call me Phoenix. You can call me Mr. Wright in a professional setting. For now, we are just having a friendly chat.”

“So… how did you just give up defending the innocent? Surely a mere penalty wasn’t enough to force you into a career change? The Phoenix Wright I read about was one to never give up!”

“True” Phoenix agreed with a soft sigh, “but losing my reputation and every client I had thereafter the said penalty of guilty was certainly enough.”

“Oh.” Apollo didn’t know what to say to that so he wisely kept silent. If Mr.-Phoenix-wishes to speak of it, he’ll tell me so himself…

“ Looks like it’s story time Apollo. “

—————————————————————————

“Leave the bottle, Al,” Phoenix Wright muttered to the bar tender as he downed another glass of grape juice.

Phoenix had hit rock bottom and his last trial had been a disaster. How was he supposed to know that the diary page was fake?

“ Finally, You couldn’t resist, could you Herr Wright?”

“ Resist what? Present solid evidence?”

Damn it. Damn it all. He had been set up. Someone had given him forged evidence… Well to be honest, someone had given that little girl a forged diary page who, in turn, had given it to him. He had no one to blame but himself for being too naive, too trusting. They had even got the forger in to confirm that it had been fake.

His Bar association hearing had been a mere three months ago and the Judge’s words were still etched on his mind like that accursed diary page.

“ Mr Phoenix Wright, do you know why you have been called here?”

“Yes, Sir. I presented forged evidence in a court of law.”“

“Up until now, you have been certainly a maverick in the courtroom, but nothing less than an honest lawyer. “ The Judge’s voice was subdued. “Did you have any previous knowledge that the evidence you presented was fake?”

“No, Sir.”

“Do you know who commissioned the forgery?”

“No, Sir.”

“Until we know more about this offence, we need to punish you for your failure to properly and thoroughly validate the aforementioned evidence. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Your Honour.” Phoenix’s voice was soft, the fingers of his left hand curling into a fist at his side the only outward sign of his disquiet.

“Despite this being your first offence, we are afraid that this will incur a penalty on your legal record. You will still remain a licensed attorney for now but you are suspended for a month with immediate effect.” The Judge’s voice was sad but cold and implacable. “If you present forged evidence again in court, your punishment will involve your badge being revoked. Permanently. Case dismissed.” XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

And that was only the beginning.

Despite being a licensed attorney, all potential clients that had come to see him since then were as guilty as sin; he could tell right away thanks to the magatama that each and every one of them were nothing but criminals looking for an acquittal and dismissed them curtly. He didn’t think that the situation could possibly get any worse, that is, until the rumours started.

It seemed like every week there was now a new story circulating about how Phoenix was a has been lawyer with nasty little epithets like Phoenix Wright: the forging attorney and Phoenix Wright had forged the diary page to get his client off scott free. Those were the kinder ones.

No one trusted him and his reputation was in tatters. What good was a lawyer if all your clients were guilty as sin? He couldn’t defend a guilty client in good conscience or even do such a thing since it went against everything his stood for. The Engarde case still haunted his nightmares and, after that fiasco, he swore to never defend a guilty party again.

Phoenix himself was bitterly reminded of the sorts of rumours that had circulated about Edgeworth back when he was the demon prosecutor. And, as he reminded himself, none of those had been true about Edgeworth and these weren’t true of him, either. At least the people that mattered to him - Maya, Edgeworth, Gumshoe, Larry- didn’t believe the nasty scuttlebutt and were sticking by him during his darkest hour; he was truly grateful for their support, especially Edgeworth’s. God, I don’t know what I would do without him… Phoenix shuddered in his arms as Edgeworth held him close, whispering soft words of comfort.

As it stood now, Phoenix was at a loss as to what to do, his heart in turmoil over the circumstances that had led to this happening although he was comforted knowing that Edgeworth was doing all he could to try and find out if the penalty could be revoked.

“It would be possible to revoke the penalty if we prove that you were framed.”

Phoenix had sighed bitterly at that. Why did getting it revoked matter? He wasn’t Manfred Von Karma, for god’s sake! He wasn’t going to kill anyone for a penalty even one that had cost him his reputation. It was his own fault that he trusted the evidence in the first place and this shook his confidence in himself to the core. What if he presented forged evidence again? He would lose his badge and this time permanently.

Phoenix couldn’t risk it and, as much as he hated to do it, his course of action was clear: He would hang up his court suit. For good.

—————————————————————————

After Phoenix had finished his story, Apollo felt sympathy for the former attorney.

“Wow. I never knew.” He was silent for a moment before he spoke again, his voice thoughtful. “ By the sound of it, it looks like you were set up by someone.”

Phoenix’s expression was serious, the corners of his mouth twitching. “I’m glad to hear you say that since I’m sure I was set up, too.” His fingers clenched into a fist before relaxing again. “I would love to clear my name and return to the way things were, but it will take a lot of time and investigation.”

“But… how do you know that people will trust me to defend them?” Apollo inquired doubtfully, looking down at his bracelet once again, his expression conflicted.

Phoenix shrugged. “To be honest, I’m not sure but people trust me for legal advice these days, so why shouldn’t they trust you with a defence request? Besides, I can help find cases for you that can help give you some experience.” He paused a moment, looking him square in the face. “What do you say, Apollo? Do you want to join the Wright and Co Law Office?”

Apollo looked at the hopeful expressions on both Phoenix and Trucy Wright’s faces and he knew he couldn’t disappoint them. I have no idea if I’m really doing the right thing but…

He hesitated only a moment before replying, “OK… count me in. I accept your job offer.”

“YAY!” Trucy cheered with sheer delight and clapped her hands.

“That’s the spirit, Apollo!” Phoenix Wright smiled brightly, clapping the young man on the shoulder. “You’ll fit right in!”

“Welcome to the family, Polly!” Trucy smiled as she squeezed his arm affectionately before turning once again to look at her father.

“Welcome to the Wright and Justice Law Office, Apollo!” Phoenix beamed as he held out his hand.

Wright and Justice, eh? That has quite a nice ring to it. Apollo grinned as he took it, shaking it vigorously. Maybe this is exactly where I’m supposed to be…

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wardencommanderrodimiss · 6 years

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Before the Turnabout

SURPRISE it’s a bonus feature to Acing the Turnabout: me grabbing the opening of a fic I’ll never finish because it didn’t fit right with what I wanted the emotional core of this case in this AU to be, and tossing it out here almost entirely unedited.

At 3:39 in the morning, the phone rings. Franziska knows the exact time because when she opens her eyes she is staring at the red neon numbers of her beside clock and they are the only lights in the room. Any call at this time is liable to be bad news and though her phone will record the time that the call came in, she likes to have these things filed away in her head as well. It's her job.

When she puts hand to phone and turns it over, her stomach clenches. Miles. The two most likely scenarios are something happened with Trucy or Phoenix, and the latter is infinitely more likely. The club closes at 3. Did he not make it home? A bar fight turned deadly, hit by a car, a mugging gone worse, and she's going to get up at the podium and accidentally call him an idiot at his funeral. "Miles? What's wrong?"

"Phoenix got arrested."

She exhales in a relieved sigh that Miles must hear. See where jumping to conclusions gets her: needless worry at best, wrong verdicts at worst. Neither an Edgeworth nor a von Karma affords themselves foolish assumptions. "What for? Did the club finally get in trouble for illegal gambling?" Phoenix has explained to her, several times, why his poker games aren't illegal but Franziska has long imagined that one day he or the establishment will slip to the wrong side of legality.

"He's a suspect in a murder."

She remembers this call. It happened in the afternoon, when she was still a child, studying in her father's office while he and Raymond were out investigating. The phone rang and she grabbed it. Edgeworth Law Offices speaking. How may we help you? - Franziska? It's Miles. Phoenix was arrested on suspicion of murder. He signed with some rookie defense attorney from Grossberg's who's only tried one case before. They gained more than they lost that day when Phoenix's girlfriend turned out to be the evil murderous twin. If he hadn't met Mia Fey then how many fewer friends would all of them have? Where would any of them be?

"Again?" she asks, not meaning to sound as annoyed as she does. Once was unfortunate; twice was a grim achievement that surpassed Maya's two separate arrests for attempted murder and murder (verdicts: not guilty and not guilty), and Diego's one for attempted murder and assault (verdicts: not guilty and guilty, but Franziska couldn't really fault him for punching the actual would've-been murderer in the face).

Within their family they had five defense attorneys, each with over a decade of experience. Miles would without question put his, or Phoenix's, life in Mia's hands now, if he didn't have his own badge in his own right, and Phoenix may have lost his badge for longer than he ever had it but he is as sharp as he ever was. If Miles is working a case now - and she doesn't think he is - someone else can step in. "I currently have my own case but I may be able to wrap it up tomorrow and I will see if I can work the Chief Prosecutor to assign me to Phoenix's trial. You will be defending I presume."

The silence on the other end of the phone tells her that she has made a mistake with that presumption, but she has no idea how. Miles would do anything for Phoenix, she knows, which means that Phoenix --

"Miles? What has he done?"

"He called Gavin." Miles' voice is flat. Franziska wonders if he recently woke up or whether he has been sitting awake all night. Either way he sounds exhausted enough that the words almost don't even register and maybe the reason that he repeats himself is because he realizes this, but maybe he too is trying to process what he is saying. "He called Gavin - he called Gavin before he called me. He's having Gavin defend him."

Franziska sits up at the edge of her bed, fumbling for the lamp. "Why would he do that?" she asks.

"I don't know! He wouldn't tell me. He said Gavin has something to do with it, and that he has a strategy, and 'trust me, I have a plan that'll bring the truth to light and put an end to this' and he wouldn't explain any of it." Miles' words are running together at the edges; the pace of his voice has picked up to frantic in a way that Franziska has not heard in years and years.

"Miles, where are you?" She stands and goes to her closet. She doesn't imagine she will be home again before going into work and she searches through her clothes for a skirt and top that can straddle the line between "office appropriate" and "comfortable for 4 am."

"In the hall outside the apartment; Trucy is asleep, I don't want to wake her, I don't want her to hear..."

"You will have to tell her in the morning." She rips a shirt from a hanger and throws it over her shoulder at the bed. When Phoenix is free she is going to kill him for putting them through this. "Go back inside, go sit down, get some water. I will be over in 20 minutes."

"You don't have to--"

"Shut up, Miles. Yes, I do. No argument."

It takes her 25 minutes to reach Miles' apartment building and she realizes that she forgot to put on pantyhose when she steps out of her car and the cold early-morning air bites at her legs with a ferocity unexpected for April. Inside it isn't much warmer. When she reaches Miles' door on the third floor she twists the handle before using her spare key; the door opens. He must have forgotten to lock it when he went back inside. She steps inside, ready to scold him, and the mess startles her, as it always does; even though it has been seven years since Phoenix and Trucy moved in, Franziska has the memory of how neat Miles kept his room during their childhoods, and this same apartment clean and carefully-organized. Phoenix has never kept a desk or floor clear in his life.

The kitchen light is the only one on; behind her she shuts the door and locks it before she pads into the room. "Miles," she hisses. He sits bent over the kitchen table, his head in his arms, shifting only slightly to look at her from one eye. An empty water glass sits in front of him and she takes it to the sink to refill it and place it back in front of him before she sits down. "Miles. What did he say happened, from the beginning?"

He looks terrible. Likely hasn't slept all night, she thinks, but that doesn't account for the exhaustion that he wears almost every time she sees him. Does he wait up every night, working and waiting to be sure that Phoenix made it home safely? She is going to kill that man for what he puts her brother through.

"He called a bit after three," Miles says, in German, which means that he either thinks Trucy might have woken and be listening now or is extra cautious about such occurring at any point during their conversation. "From the detention center. The murder happened around one-thirty, at the poker table. Wine bottle to the head."

"Victim name?" Franziska asks, continuing in German.

Miles shakes his head. "Doesn't know or didn't want to give it. "Victim got violent, tried to attack the waitress; Phoenix went upstairs to call the police and when he came back the man was dead."

"And then he called Gavin." She doesn't have to work to pronounce the name with a sneer; it comes naturally, with long practice, no matter which Gavin brother she speaks of. She fortunately hasn't had reason to speak of the other one in years and has heard nothing of him other than terrible and terribly catchy songs on the radio.

Miles looks away from her, one arm pulled protectively across his chest. "And then he called Gavin and asked him to defend him."

And that is where the real mystery begins. The murder is a puzzle to be unraveled in investigation and court over a few days; the question of why Phoenix has done anything he has done is an old matter grown more pressing as the years have passed and Phoenix has closed himself off further and further. "He didn't tell you why he did that?"

"No. He only said he has a strategy. He didn't say what." Miles presses his hand to his face. "He doesn't explain anything to me anymore."

"I'll go down to the detention center in a few hours and make him explain himself." Franziska drums her fingers on the table. "I will get you your answers and I will tell him that he is slowly killing you."

She expects Miles to deny it, but he doesn't, and the haunted look in his eyes tells her more than either words or silence can. "And if I do not get all of the information from him, surely the parade of defense attorneys that we know will--"

The floor creaks. She stops. Trucy emerges from the darkened hallway that leads to the bedrooms. "Papa?" she asks around a yawn. "What're you--" Sudden alertness comes to her eyes even as she covers another yawn with her hand. "Aunt Fran? Why are you here? Where's Daddy?" She looks from the kitchen to the living room, craning her neck and squinting like she expects to see Phoenix sitting there on the couch in the dark. "Did... did something happen?"

"Your father's been arrested," Miles says, switching back to English and finally sitting up straight, "on suspicion of murder."

Trucy stands there, with her messy hair and a baggy Ivy University t-shirt that Franziska thinks she had seen Phoenix wear once long ago, blinking at them. Then her expression changes like she is unfreezing parts of her face at different rates, a laborious process of several seconds until she has forced a false smile upon her face. She is a stage performer, the daughter of lawyers, long having mastered wearing a smile through the worst of situations. Mia and Diego have a saying about such but Franziska wishes Trucy would stop. There is no one here to wear a mask for. "But you'll defend him, right, Papa? You'll defend him and it will be fine, right?"

Trucy has an uncanny knack for noticing a person's nervous tics. Miles has never been able to lie to her - not that Miles was good at lying before Trucy or even before Phoenix's magatama. "We'll do everything we can to help him," Franziska says. "I will not see your father punished for a crime he did not commit."

Not again, she thinks, and unbidden the image comes to mind of tripping Prosecutor Gavin down a flight of stairs. It's a good thought.

"But..." Trucy blinks rapidly, pressing her lips together, drawing one arm across her body to clutch the other. "You aren't..."

"I would," Miles says sharply, but then his voice quickly softens. "Of course I would, in a second, but he doesn't want me to." He spreads his arms in a gesture of helplessness but also invitation. Trucy hurries across the kitchen to him and hugs him, burying her face in his shoulder.

#bullshit defense au #bullshit defense fic #roddy fanfics

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brokensmileswritings · 7 years

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One Small Change

Chapter 4- The fall of the Phoenix.