Chapter Text
Phoenix didn’t like the taste of wine.
It was pretty ironic, considering the empty crates of it that littered the floor of the Borscht Bowl where he had been spending his nights for the last month. Rarely did a bottle stay full despite its cheap and rotten flavor. Even now, one was lazily held in his own grasp, but he couldn’t find the motivation to bring it to his lips.
Not with him sitting across the table.
Edgeworth looked so out of place against the dilapidated decor of the poker room. The color of his suit matched the wine in a far too pretentious glass for the kind of establishment they were in. Because of course he’d never drink straight from the bottle. It wasn’t quite the suit that he had grown used to Edgeworth wearing. No, the buttons weren’t the right texture, and it sat too tight on his frame. Still, it was obviously expensive and it only made Phoenix feel like even more of an idiot in his tattered hoodie and sweatpants.
He didn’t want Edgeworth to see him like this. And while he hadn’t exactly reached out to anyone in the past month, most of that was accidental. He simply hadn’t had the time in between adjusting to fatherhood, arranging finances, and the daily wallowing that he had to pencil into his ‘busy’ schedule. Keeping Edgeworth out, however, was purely by conscious design.
It had to be, because if he had left it up to himself, half a dozen drunken love confessions and pleas for help would’ve reached the prosecutor’s inbox already. Whenever Phoenix grew too weary, his mind always drifted to Edgeworth. He wanted nothing more than to rest in his arms, hiding away from the rest of the harsh world.
God, he was pathetic. Eleven years of rejection have taught him nothing. Phoenix finally took a swig of the wine, the familiar bitterness following after the tang. He felt like gagging, but he knew that feeling would soon fade away into a pleasant buzz that would get him through whatever conversation they were about to have.
A tense silence had settled over them ever since Edgeworth approached his table. The other man’s gaze was fixed firmly against his cards. It was funny, Phoenix expected him to be a bit better at maintaining a poker face. Yet, the fact that his hand was a dud was written all over his expression. Or maybe it was just that after so long, Phoenix knew all of Edgeworth’s tells, down to that little twitch of his brow.
“Staring at the cards won’t make your hand any better, Edgeworth.” Phoenix smiled, faintly amused by how Edgeworth startled, nearly dropping his cards.
“Yes, well, ergo…” Edgeworth trailed off, setting the cards on the table. “I suppose this round is my loss.”
So were the last three, but Phoenix made no mention of it. The silence stretched on until Edgeworth took a long breath.
“Sorry, I’m—” He pinched the bridge of his nose, “I’m not very good at this, Wright.”
Phoenix silently gathered up their cards, shuffling them again with a flourish that Trucy had taught him. “‘This’, real specific of you there, Edgeworth.” Phoenix remarked, before dealing another hand that Edgeworth didn’t even touch. Done playing, huh?
“I am—I came with the intention of seeing how you were doing. This must be a particularly difficult time for you,” Edgeworth said, finally turning his gaze fully to Phoenix. “I’m sorry.”
So much for emotions under control. Phoenix pulled the bright beanie hiding his unkempt hair down over his eyes, hoping to hide the emotion that was swimming in them. Was one sorry really going to be what pushed Phoenix over the edge? Or was it the concern he heard in Edgeworth’s voice? He didn’t know if the swirling in his stomach was nausea or butterflies.
“You didn’t do it,” Edgeworth said. He must’ve been fiddling with his wine glasses, as Phoenix could faintly hear the clink of his fingers tapping against it. Still, he refused to look at the other man directly.
"Ahaha, kinda did though…” Phoenix laughed dryly, not even having to ask what he was talking about.
“Allow me to rephrase. You did not do it intentionally.”
“Does it matter?”
“Y-Yes! Of course it matters, Wright. What kind of a question is that?”
“I still presented forged evidence in court,” Phoenix shrugged. “There’s no getting around that, Edgeworth.”
“Even so, disbarment was a far step for a first offense. Even more so considering that it was unintentional,” Edgeworth responded, looking to the side.
“Unintentional?” Phoenix asked, lifting up his beanie just enough so he could grab the deck of cards to fiddle with. “You keep saying that, but that's not what the inquiry found. No, I had fully contracted someone to forge that notebook page for me. Plain and simple.”
“You would never.”
“How would you know?” Phoenix challenged, fanning out the blue cards in his hand.
“I know you, Wright.”
“Do you?” Phoenix’s voice was shakier than he would’ve liked. His throat felt tight, and the wine did little to wash the feeling away. How could Edgeworth know him when he didn’t even know himself? Who was he at the end of the day, with all his goals stripped away? With no one to rely on him anymore? Sure, there was Trucy, his light and joy, but half the time, he felt like he relied more on her than the other way around.
Edgeworth paused for a moment before responding. “I admit, perhaps, that I do not know you as well as, say, Maya. I have not been around nearly enough for that. But I know what kind of man you are, Phoenix. I have seen the way you have touched others’ lives… And even touched my own. You search for the truth, you taught me so. A man like you…I refuse to believe that you would do that.”
Phoenix swallowed harshly around another gulp of wine, leaning back against his chair tiredly. “Ahaha, man, you describe me so–,” He gestured with his free hand. “–Nobly. Real funny when you remember that you’re talking about a gambler. But like I said, it doesn’t matter whether or not I really meant to do it. What’s done is done.”
“You’re just going to take it lying down? Is this not exactly what you had urged me against just a few years ago, Wright? Hope is not yet lost, we—you still have options available to you!” Edgeworth stood, slamming his hands down on the table, spilling the deck of cards all over the surface. “It is unbecoming of you to—to look so defeated. It doesn’t suit you in the slightest!”
On the contrary, this sense of defeat felt like the only thing that ever suited Phoenix. Everything else was just a fluke. His victories? Half of them were Mia’s, and the other half were due to a stupid magical rock because he couldn’t even conduct his own investigations without it. God, how had he ever called himself a lawyer? His personal life? Even worse. After all, he had not one shoulder to lean on. Not that he would in the first place, but knowing he had one would be at least a little comforting. Love life? Well, he chased after one guy since he was 9, not a single letter in response, and then he went and almost committed suicide a few months after seeing him in person. The one person he ever dated tried to kill him. So overall, pretty abysmal. What wasn’t a failure in Phoenix’s life was probably a better question.
“I think you have a bit of an idealized view of me, Edgeworth,” Phoenix hummed, snorting after a moment. “Don’t worry, it’s kinda flattering,”
Phoenix tried and failed not to notice how Edgeworth’s cheeks flushed as he crossed his arms.
“You, of all people, have no business saying that to me.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You are well aware of what I mean,” Edgeworth sighed again, sipping from his glass. “Regardless, I stand by what I said. You would not do that. Even if the association does not believe so, I do. Although, I have my own suspicions about whether or not the board truly believes in your guilt. Damn parasites,”
“Wow, that’s the closest to swearing I think I’ve ever heard you get. What, you got a grudge, or something?” Phoenix laughed.
“Something of that sort. That is partially what I wanted to talk to you about. I have gone through quite the debacle since our last meeting.”
“Ah, I don’t think I’ve seen you since State vs Iris?” Phoenix mused. There was a brief period where they had kept in contact, but Miles then proceeded to fall off the face of the Earth, apparently, and then Phoenix had to go and get disbarred.
Edgeworth rubbed his arm. “Yes, you know that I left for Borginia soon after. I regret not being able to stay longer, but I had already arrived on short notice. I didn’t even have the chance to send my well-wishes to Maya. Is she doing alright?”
“Wouldn’t know. I haven’t heard from her since she returned to Kurain Village after that case,” Phoenix slipped his hand into his pocket. Again, it wasn’t like Phoenix had reached out. Of course, it stung that Maya hadn’t either, but Phoenix expected it. She was busy, newly the master of her clan and by default the whole village too. Maya didn’t have the time to run after him anymore.
“That—Not even after you were disbarred? Or once you adopted that Enigmar girl?”
“Trucy? Nah. I mean, Maya has her own stuff too. She’s head of the Feys, head of Kurain. And then the whole thing with her mother… She’s going through a lot, I’m probably not high on her list of priorities.”
“Still, she should have visited. Or called.”
“Nah, it's alright. No one’s gonna put their life on hold just cause I’m down in the dumps, y'know? No one would do that.”
“...You did,” Edgeworth whispered. The silence that followed was even tenser than before, and Phoenix was already starting to feel suffocated by the emotions bubbling up, nervously laughing to try to lighten the seriousness.
“I wouldn’t say I put my life on hold—”
“You wanted to—you wanted to be an artist.” Edgeworth said, and if Phoenix didn’t know Miles Edgeworth better, he would’ve thought he was on the verge of tears as he turned his face away. “You were in your final year. You even had your final painting planned out, you loved to paint fabric, and you were modeling your senior painting on Giovanni Strazza’s ‘The Veiled Virgin’. You sent me your first sketch, telling me that you wanted me to have it.”
The letters. “You read them,” Phoenix gasped.
“I read every last one. All 140 of them, from the first until the timeyou were in college. I was glad. I was comforted because I thought what happened to me wouldn’t happen to you. I know what it means to take a path you didn’t want in the first place, and no matter how content you may feel, there will always be a void. I found my peace with it, but I didn’t want that for you. And yet you did it anyway. For me. Tell me, how can I not be indebted to you for such loyalty, when I did nothing to deserve it?”
Words seemed to escape him as Phoenix struggled to hold back his tears. “You read them.” He repeated dumbly, his hand trembling around the thin neck that he held his wine by.
And what a terrifying thing that was.
This whole time, Miles had read them. The tiny pieces of his heart that he had slowly chipped and sent away for Miles to bear witness to. But at some point, Phoenix had just assumed Miles was tossing them out. What else was he supposed to assume with radio silence? So he bared himself in every letter, sending it to the person whose image he sought comfort in every night. How much of Phoenix had Miles seen? He felt bare, stripped of any defense under the prosecutor's icy gaze that looked too close to melting.
“I don’t—” Phoenix started, ignoring the stray tears that spilled down his cheeks. “I don’t need your ‘indebtedness’. You don’t have to pay me back or anything like that. I made my own decisions, so you don’t need to feel… How you feel about it. Thanks for coming, Edgeworth, I really appreciate it. I hope whatever ‘debacle’ you had worked out, all that, man.”
He needed to leave. Phoenix needed to leave before he lost any more of himself. He gathered up his cards as best he could with his shaking hands, shoving them into his pocket as he moved to leave.
“Wright, wait!” Edgeworth called after him, but Phoenix paid no mind to it. He couldn’t. He was already too close to overflowing. “Phoenix!”
It was like the world slowed to a stop around him. Silence stretched on in the aftermath as Phoenix stayed silent. The only thing he could hear was the violent thundering of his own heart as he struggled to get himself to make the final move of leaving. He was barely even one step away from the door, but his legs felt like lead. He couldn’t do this—he couldn’t face Edgeworth, no, he couldn’t face Miles for much longer without breaking.
There was no pretense of court or a case between them. This wasn’t Prosecutor Edgeworth reaching out to his rival. That, Phoenix could deal with, maybe even expected on some level. No, but this was Miles reaching out to Phoenix. Just Miles. The part of the other man that Phoenix had spent his life worrying over, chasing, loving—he was now trying to reach him, and this time Phoenix was the one turning his back. But Phoenix knew he was fighting a losing battle. Wright could go toe to toe with Edgeworth, but Phoenix was far too weak to Miles. Far too weak.
“You once implied that you couldn’t refuse me.”
And Miles knew it.
“I am just asking you to stay and talk. You are a man of your word, are you not? So do not refuse me now.” Miles pleaded, closing his eyes.
He felt dizzy, and he couldn’t tell if the intoxication pounding his head was from the wine or the sudden burst of bitterness that swarmed him. “Talk? Why should I? There’s nothing left to say.”
Miles said nothing in response, and silence engulfed them again. Phoenix couldn’t take it anymore.
“You read them,” he said, defeated.
“So you’ve realized three times,”
“You never responded,” Phoenix internally cursed the way his voice cracked. “I wrote so many times. I begged you to respond, and you never did. So why come pretending you actually care about how I feel now, huh? Guilt? Pity? I don’t need any of it. Just fuck off. Go silent and leave like you usually do. It’s happened so much that the familiarity of it is almost comforting at this point. This pretending is just insulting.”
More than insulting, it was just cruel. Cruel to make Phoenix’s already bleeding heart flare up with a spark of hope that maybe, just maybe, Miles cared for him too, even though Phoenix knew that wasn’t the case. Because Miles had read those letters, seen his heart, and threw them out anyway. That version of Phoenix, the young one who cried and loved freely and openly, who took and depended on others—he wasn’t loved. No, the only acceptable version of Phoenix was the one who gave and protected and could be relied on. That Phoenix was lost along with his badge, he wasn’t dependable to himself anymore, let alone someone else. He was stuck back where he was 7 years ago, and that was the version of him that Miles chose to ignore. So why pretend and hurt Phoenix even more?
“I have no excuse to give you,” Miles said, carefully. “I could have responded, but I chose not to. Please understand, it wasn’t for lack of care. Your letters… I cannot imagine where I would be without them, or if I even would be at all. I simply felt that you were better off without my correspondence. I wanted you to move on, and yet you clung to me stubbornly. That comforted me, but it ruined you. You would not be in this situation had you not become a lawyer in the first place.”
Move on? The absurdity of that almost made Phoenix laugh out loud. Maybe that was understandable for the first two years, but after the 5th, shouldn’t Miles have figured out that wasn’t going to happen? And yet, when his hand reached for the magatama hidden away in his pocket, there was no heat. The smooth surface was cool under the pad of his thumb. It was the truth. He kept waiting for the relief or joy that Phoenix figured he should be feeling to wash over him, but all he felt was that insistent buzz in his head from the wine. Miles cared this whole time. He didn’t throw him to the side. In fact, Phoenix was useful to him, saved him even. The apathy was scary even to Phoenix, but he couldn’t help but think it was too late for all of this.
Maybe it would’ve been different if he still had his badge. Or if he didn’t have a kid. Or maybe if he wasn’t a lawyer at all. He would be able to accept the sentiment joyfully instead of the empty ache in his chest from a missed opportunity. It was too late for him. It was all over, and still…
“I don’t regret it,” Phoenix swallowed, looking up to the tattered, damp ceiling while trying to dry his tears. “Becoming a lawyer, I mean. Even with what’s happened.”
“How can you say that? Your life is falling apart.”
“Gee, thanks,” Phoenix laughed drily, turning around to face Miles once more. “I mean it, though. I became a lawyer for a purpose, and I fulfilled it. If nothing, at least I can say that I reached my goal, right? I mean, converting the demon prosecutor, hey, it’s gotta count for something.”
Although, that wasn’t really his goal. Converting Miles? That never meant anything at all. Phoenix just wanted acknowledgement and to know that Miles was okay. He wasn’t, not when he first saw him, and now sat before him was a man better than Phoenix could ever be. A prosecutor who genuinely fights for the truth, and makes sure justice is served. Phoenix was proud of him—he’d never voice it, it would only be read as patronizing by Miles. But his growth was remarkable to see. Phoenix always knew Miles had good in him, and now that Miles himself was sure of that and he was doing well in life… What more could Phoenix ask for? Even if Phoenix himself now had to fall, he couldn’t find himself to feel anything else but contentment. His badge had served its purpose.
Miles crossed his arms over his chest, tapping a finger against his bicep. “So that’s it? That’s the extent of your ambition?”
Phoenix shrugged softly. “So what if it is?”
“And all that talk about pursuing the truth? Was it just ear-service? Surely, even you have more fight in you than that, Wright.” Miles glared.
“I think I’ve made it plenty clear that I don’t. I don’t know what you want from me, Edgeworth.” Phoenix said as he took a seat again.
“I want you to stop being a hypocrite and a coward,” Miles glowered.
“Is that what you think I’m being right now?”
“What else am I supposed to think? After years of hounding me about your ideals, and the truth, and ‘helping people’, you give up so easily. You are afraid of returning, you don’t know what to do, and you are too prideful to ask for help. That is cowardice.”
“Well, maybe I’m just taking a sabbatical like you did, ever think about that? You can’t tell me anything about cowardice, Edgeworth, you’re the one who left everything because you couldn’t face it. I’m still here, moving forward how I can. Not everyone can run off to Europe and do god knows what for a year to collect themselves. I’ve got a job, I’ve got a kid, I’m doing pretty damn okay,”
“A job? This–” Miles gestured around the small poker room. “–is your job? And you think this is enough to take care of a child? What kind of role model are you being for her right now, with all this gambling? It’s not safe nor stable either. It’s a gig at best, and a crime at most.”
“Well, it’s been enough, hasn’t it? If you’re just going to criticize me, you can leave. I don’t want to hear it. You sound like von Karma. This isn’t perfect, this isn’t up to par. Whatever.”
Miles’s expression flared for a moment before he pinched the bridge of his nose. “I know what you’re trying to do, Wright.”
“And what exactly is that?”
“You are trying to provoke me into leaving and giving up,” Miles said, sipping his wine slowly before shrugging with a smirk. “It will not work. You can foolishly insult me all you wish.”
Phoenix huffed, crossing his arms as he leaned back into his chair before suddenly shifting to knock the wine glass out of Miles’ hand.
“Oh, how mature of you,” Miles rolled his eyes. “Pick up the glass, Wright.”
“Make me.”
“You’re insufferable, you know that?”
“The door’s wide open. No need to stay and ‘suffer’ or anything,”
Miles wagged a finger with a smirk. “You endured for 15 years. I am prepared to outdo you, if necessary. And it is you, so a bit of suffering was expected.”
Phoenix ran a hand through his hair with a frustrated sigh. “I don’t want your pity, I told you this, Edgeworth.”
“Are you unable to distinguish between pity and support? A tragedy.”
“And what exactly is the difference to you?”
“Last month, I gave up my badge.”
What? No, it couldn’t be. It was fine for Phoenix to suffer, but he couldn’t help Miles like this. He’d be useless, and they would both be stuck in the same ditch. The one person he wanted to save no matter what, he couldn’t fall too. All that Phoenix had worked for, all that Miles had worked for. Was it really gone just like that?
Miles seemed to read his mind, shaking his head. “The decision was hardly of my own volition. The circumstances were dire, and the Committee of Prosecutorial Excellence seemed to have already made up their minds on my suspension. After all, I refused to bend my knee before their corrupt whims. Although, rest assured, I was able to get myself reinstated,”
Phoenix let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, slumping against the splitting wood of the old chair in the poker room. “And you’re telling me this, because…?”
Miles grasped his own arm before he shifted to reach down and pick up the wine glass. “Understand, I am not saying that what I went through is exactly the same, but it is similar. I had the opportunity again to act as a defense attorney, and while I was able to complete my goal, I remember feeling as if I had lost myself. It was a turning point for me, and I was able to parse out what the truth and justice you taught me meant to me and what it was that I wanted. Now, you get to choose what you, Phoenix Wright, want to do for yourself. No one else can or should do it for you. But that doesn’t mean you have to do it on your own. Pity would be forcing you into a certain path because that is what I think is best for you. I do not intend to do that. My only goal here is to remind you that you need not do this alone. I will stand by you as you did me, even on the days that you wish I didn’t. You are not alone, Phoenix.”
“And if my choice is to be alone? What if that’s what I want, Edgeworth?” Phoenix sighed shakily.
“I made that choice,” Miles said, their gazes still not having met. “It is not nearly as fruitful as you would imagine. It forces you to grow, yes, but it is a painful road. Much more painful than it has to be,”
“Ahaha, yeah, I’m sure your Europe vacation was really painful,” Phoenix responded bitterly.
“Scenery and comforts do nothing but offer a distraction. It did not get rid of the pain inside. You know this, Phoenix, you are saying things you don’t mean. I thought we had this conversation already.”
“Scenery and comforts, right. It’s kinda funny, how you say our situations are—were— similar. You got the luxury to worry about what the truth means to you when you gave up your badge. Hell, giving it up was an option for you. I don’t get to do that. I don’t get to think about ‘what Phoenix Wright wants’. I get to think about how to keep the lights on and make sure my daughter has enough school lunch money, and how to get my face off of the tabloids,” Phoenix raised his voice without even really meaning to. Who was Miles to sit here and preach at him? Wasn’t he the one who reminded all those months ago that Phoenix was just a man? He had already accepted his defeat, and trying to fight back would only tear open his heart more. His head was swimming and pounding from the wine, his chest hurt with each breath, and his throat was tight with unvoiced sobs. Phoenix was so tired. He didn’t want to think of anything.
“I can help you,” Miles said, leaning in closer over the table. “It is as you said, I don’t have to worry about that. So allow me to—”
“Don’t. Don’t finish that sentence. You already know I won’t accept it. I can do this myself. It would have been better if you didn’t come tonight, Edgeworth,” Phoenix scoffed. “I don’t need your pity,”
Miles stood from his seat with a sigh. Phoenix shoved his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, his hands curling into tight fists. This is what he wanted. He wanted to be left alone, he said as much just earlier. He even tried to leave. So the bitter burn of panic and melancholy on his tongue as he heard the old rickety table shake with Miles’ movement made no sense. Although, Phoenix rarely understood himself or his feelings lately. This shouldn’t be anything new—this was for the better. Miles wouldn’t have to deal with this side of him, and with the luck when they do drift apart, the memory of Phoenix would be of him victorious in court and not the defeated tears that still welled up in his eyes.
“It seems that we will not see eye to eye tonight. We are speaking in circles. If you think me pity, well, then you will simply have to deal with it. I have no intention of relenting. I have not told you the details of the situation that led to me temporarily giving up my badge. I will tell you next week. And I will have something to tell you the subsequent week and so on, I hope you understand what I am saying here,” Miles said, his hand briefly slipping into his pocket as he pulled out a bright white envelope.
What was that?
“Edgeworth, I just said that I don’t—” Phoenix’s protests fell on deaf ears as Miles slammed down the envelope on the table and left, coat billowing behind him. He didn’t say so much as a farewell, and the silence after sounded more like an incessant ringing in Phoenix’s ear.
Phoenix cursed under his breath, his hands leaving his hoodie to find purchase in his unruly hair. What, and now he was supposed to take handouts too? How far had he gone? Was he really so pitiful in Miles’ eyes that he would need a bail-out check? Palming around blindly, he eventually found another bottle of wine strewn on the floor. As tipsy as he was, it wasn’t nearly enough for him to see what was in that envelope.
After a few long swigs of the sickeningly tangy, cheap wine, Phoenix finally willed himself to grab the envelope. It was smooth in texture, bright white save for his name written in bold blue ink and a small stamp in the corner. Phoenix wasn’t too familiar with flowers, it was white with many petals. Probably a chrysanthemum. He had only seen the flower three times in his life. A distant relative’s wedding, in Maya’s hands for Mia’s funeral, and in his own for his vigil for Miles all those years ago.
With a heaving sigh, Phoenix ripped open the envelope, revealing a slip of paper inside. A check… Or was it? The slim paper unfolded into a full-sized piece, and Phoenix’s eyes frantically searched its face to know its contents.
[ Dear Phoenix Wright,
I have to admit my own apprehension, as I cannot help but feel a bit ridiculous doing this
However, seeing as your letters were of such impact to me, I hope that this will also be able to soothe some of your
own pain… ]
Ah.
The paper crumpled slightly as Phoenix held it against his quivering chest. Sobs that once were caught in his throat spilled out with pitiful cries. It was torrential, all the emotions that Phoenix had carefully locked away suddenly surged and overwhelmed him. Tears fell onto the paper, causing its ink to bleed as he blearily read it over and over.
Reality hit him all at once. He lost his badge, he was a father now. He hadn’t seen his friends or family in what felt like months. And most shatteringly of all, Miles cared about all that. He even cared about the version of him that Phoenix had assumed he threw away.
Phoenix shakily wiped away his tears, tossing the wine bottle to the side.
Who was Phoenix Wright? What did he want? He didn’t have the answers to that yet. But if there was one part of him that he knew would never die, it would be the part that chased after Miles Edgeworth.
Phoenix got up with a start, tossing the cards in his pocket haphazardly on the table, running out of the poker room.
“Miles!”
Dear Phoenix Wright,
I have to admit my own apprehension, as I cannot help but feel a bit ridiculous doing this. However, seeing as your letters were of much impact on me, I hope that this will also be able to soothe some of your own pain. To know someone else is thinking of you is a comfort unto itself. I am not as earnest with my words as you are, yet I sincerely want you to know that this will resolve itself sooner or later. I took the liberty of looking into the case myself. Any lawyer worth his salt would see that this is a setup. However, I fear we have made enemies in high places. Gant… And now, for me, Saint, Winner, even Alba. I will fill you in on who these people are shortly. I worry that in my relentless pursuit against them, their revenge will extend to those I cherish. It seems that we are not as separate in the eyes of most as I once thought, although, I am unsure if you’ve had similar experiences.
Nonetheless, we have options for us to follow through on. For the enemies I have made, I have made allies in equal strength. For the time being, it is probably best to lie low. Perhaps even flee the country. Such would be good for your girl as well? Trucy Enigmar, or Trucy Wright as it is now. I am not very good with children, but I would like to meet her. It would do her good for someone to teach her proper deduction before she falls into that bluffing spell of yours--it has even rubbed off on me. Perhaps she would even fancy some chess. I heard she is quite the magician. I wonder if she would like to enthuse me with some tricks one day.
Conclusions were never my forte, but I shall try to bring my intentions to light succinctly. I am here for you when you need me. Please do not hesitate to reach out. You didn’t for the past 15 years, so don’t start a new habit now. We can do this together. We are partners in the pursuit of the truth. Part of that is pursuing the truth of what happened to you, too. I hope to meet with you soon.
Yours in the pursuit of the truth
Yours,
Miles Edgeworth