Chapter Text
“Prosecutor Edgeworth?” Miles looked up from his hibiscus tea to see a man at his door. Usually, he was notified if he were going to meet with a client. This man, he didn’t recognize him, not in the slightest. As the man entered and closed the door behind him, Edgeworth saw a gleam behind his long black coat, and a drop of some liquid drip down on to the floor, creating a stain on the previously pristine pink carpet. The room filled with the scent of iron, which, when mixed with the light notes of the flowery tea, created the feel of the scene of a murder. That was what was happening, after all. The prosecutor rose silently, letting the unwanted guest know that his intentions were known. The man raised the heavy lead pipe, which continued to drip the blood that was most likely the security guards. ‘That’s a shame,’ Edgeworth thought, ‘I liked most of the guards.’ It occurred to him that he should be more focused on the man who was clearly here to kill him. He shrugged, and opened his mouth to question his assailant. He was quite rudely interrupted, however, as the man offered an explanation.
Keeping a calm composure in front of someone who has lost their cool was a specialty of his. No one can argue that you provoked them, and sitting back and refusing to engage always made for a funny show. Plus, you prove that you are the better man, and, oh, he’s coming closer. Edgeworth instinctively raised a single gloved hand to block the pipe moving at his head.
“You fucking queer, you don’t even try to be normal, do you? What straight man wears a pink suit, has pink décor, flowers, a framed frilly jacket, and drinks tea?”
“A tasteful one, I would presume.” Edgeworth replied as calmly as he could. This man clearly wanted to feel powerful, like he had control over something, and he sure as hell was not going to find that here. The man howled and continued to wildly smack the pipe around, but he was so careless that it was easily predicted by the prosecutor, who blocked every last stroke. His eye was incredibly sharp. It would have to be, he was in charge of investigating crime scenes. A weak eye would miss evidence, and that was not something that Edgeworth would allow. He tilted his head at the panting intruder, a subtle sign for him to speak. Somehow, this did get through his incredibly thick skull, and he offered an explanation.
“My brother came in here a month ago. Someone had hired him to steal some papers from you, but all he got were love letters disguised as trial notes. You didn’t fool us, half of it is about how cunning Mr. Wright is, and I guess that ‘eloquent’ must be a code word for something gay. You people are unnatural. I know that god will punish you for your sins.”
Edgeworth sighed deeply. “By code word, do you mean euphemism? Euphemism usually has a sexual meaning, which was not my intention. I do like the sound of the word more than the meaning, to be honest. It flows better than code word, don’t you think? Eloquent means well spoken, to put it simply. You are not the most eloquent, with all due respect, but I believe that you calmed down, I could understand you more clearly. Please, sit down. Would you like some tea?” The man had a look of confusion that was unrivaled by any other look that the prosecutor had ever seen.
“But… I just started hitting you with a pipe… Now you’re telling me to sit? Are you crazy?” Still, the assailant pulled out the pink chair and slowly sank into it. Once Edgeworth knew his guest was sitting, he reached for the tea drawer, which was where he kept his spare knife. He reached for it, but the metal pipe reached his head first. A hollow sound and a scream escaping from his lips were the last things that he remembered.
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Across town, defense attorney Phoenix Wright rushed to stop the tinny echo from making his headache worse. He first called for Maya before remembering that she wasn’t there. He kicked off the throw blanket that he kept on his couch before walking into the office where the noise was emanating. He lifted the phone and immediately felt nausea spread from his stomach to his throat, and almost doubled over with the shock of what he was hearing. On the other end was the clear, unmistakable sound of bones breaking. Three solid hits, three sickening crunches. Six words.
“Come and get your boyfriend, Wright.” He was puzzled by not only the words, but the sudden silence that was louder than any sound he had ever heard. It only took a second before he dialed Detective Gumshoe on his cellphone. He talked as he ran down the office stairwell to his car.
“Gumshoe, Edgeworth is in trouble. Meet me at his office as fast as you can, and bring an ambulance. I have to go, but tell the patrolmen not to stop me. I’ll have to speed to get to him in time.” The detective paused before barking out urgent orders and hanging up. Edgeworth wasn’t his boyfriend, but that was the only person he could think of. He sure as hell wasn’t going to waste any time thinking about it.
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Miles Edgeworth opened his eyes to see a crying defense attorney cradling his head, and so he promptly shut his eyes again. His subconscious could be so very cruel at times, and it didn’t seem fair. Wasn’t it in your brains best interests to work together? He could hear Phoenix calling his name, but the famous prosecutor Miles Edgeworth was not to be so easily fooled. He has an almost perfect record, and you think that a small dream will make him crack? No way, Jose. He was going to win this battle with himself if it was the last thing that he did. Suddenly, he felt a face rest on his, and he felt the tears of the other man run down his cheek. Was this real? He tried to move, but he found himself completely immobilized with pain. Mostly what he could feel was a dull ache, but he assumed that his brain wasn’t letting him feel everything. The memories flooded back, sending an involuntary shudder through his body. Phoenix shifted in response, moving his hand to the center of the pink jacket.
Ow.
For some reason, his stomach seared with pain. It felt like someone had gutted him. He hoped that it wasn’t the case. That would be so disappointing, to just be more paperwork for the police and his fellow prosecutors. He always felt like he was just a burden to everyone around him, and that he wasn’t worth the trouble that Phoenix went through to keep him safe. That’s really why he tried to confess to the murder, so that he would be out of his friends way. He opened his eyes to look at Wright, who was removing his hand from his shirt and staring at the blood sticking to it.
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Phoenix stared at Miles’ almost lifeless body. Blood had seeped through the crisp white linen of his dress shirt, staining it red and brown. In order to figure out how bad it was, he had to remove the prosecutors jacket, vest, and shirt. The attacker must have done something different to his stomach to make this part so damaged. BLushing in spite of himself, the defense attorney unbuttoned Mile’s shirt with shaking hand to reveal a word jaggedly carved into his chest. His hand instinctively flew to his face, leaking the rusty taste of his rivals blood into his mouth. Behind him, he heard a loud crash and a hollow thud, and without even turning he knew that the police had arrived. He couldn’t look away from the light streaming onto Miles’ face, making his bangs shine and his pale, now almost cold, skin look as if all life had faded from it. Now, staring at the limp body of his closest friend, even the room filled with police officers and paramedics couldn’t stop him from feeling utterly alone.