Chapter 1: A Request

"Wright."

The attorney pauses at the sound of his name as he strides out of the defendant's lobby. To his surprise, it's Edgeworth who has called him.

"What do you need?" Phoenix asks, still harsh from the trial, but regrets it instantly when he sees the look on Miles' face. He hasn't seen that look since the DL-6 incident last month. "What's wrong?" He presses immediately, concerned.

Miles fidgets, uncomfortable. He seems to be choosing his words very carefully. "You became a lawyer because you wanted to help people, right?"

Puzzled, Phoenix replies, "Yeah, how come?"

Edgeworth looks down, brow furrowed, for a long moment. Phoenix repeats himself, and the prosecutor comes out of his trance, shaking his head. "It's nothing," he decides, waving a hand at Phoenix and walking away.

Wright was worried at the beginning of the interaction, and his concern only grew tenfold by the end of the conversation. Despite his words, Edgeworth's eyes begged for help. Phoenix thinks this over and decides he will do whatever he must to figure out what is wrong with his friend.

Over the next week, Phoenix observes Miles. In court, he appears to act normally, but when he tries to approach him anytime that's not in the courtroom, Miles runs away without speaking a word. It is only once he enlists the help of Gumshoe, who has noticed something off about Edgeworth as well, that he can even get acknowledgement from him. Even then, they have to ambush him and it's like pulling teeth.

"Miles," Phoenix says calmly, casually. "How are you?"

"Busy," he replies immediately, and turns to leave. Phoenix is thankful that the detective blocks his path.

"We haven't seen much of you lately," Gumshoe adds, a gentle smile on his face. His mannerisms are welcoming. "Me and Phoenix are going to lunch. You should come," he offers.

"I have another case," says Miles, turning from both the detective and the attorney. The pair notice the distant look in his eyes, and they both silently agree that he needs to come with them.

"No, you don't," Phoenix insists, "Who's the defense attorney?"

Edgeworth stays silent at that, but keeps his gaze adverted.

"Sir, please come with us," Gumshoe whispers, and at that, he looks up. He is annoyed, but behind that the detective can see something is definitely wrong.

"Very well," he finally agrees l, however quietly. They head out together.

"I'll take the stairs," Edgeworth says as they exit the lobby, immediately walking away from Phoenix and Gumshoe before they can protest. He knows Phoenix will press him later, but for the time being, he disregards it, enjoying the silence as he shuffles down the steps.

There are several flights, so at first, Miles doesn't realize that he is being followed. He nears the end and slows, closing his eyes and breathing deeply. He adjusts his clothes, but his pants pull across his thighs, making him wince audibly. He hears a gasp in response and realizes he is not alone. Whipping around, he spots Phoenix and the top of the flight.

"Please, Miles, tell me what's wrong," he begs, stepping closer.

Instinctually, Miles steps back, only to fall off the last step and land flat on his ass. Wright hurries down to help him, but Miles is up before he can reach him.

"I told you, it's nothing. Forget it."

Phoenix sighs. "Why did you gasp just now?"

Edgeworth's annoyance grows. "I'm not a case for you to solve, Wright. Drop it." He turns his back to Phoenix to wait for the elevator, but the defense attorney persists.

"I'm asking because I care, and because we're worried about you."

"We?" Edgeworth scoffs just as the elevator opened. Gumshoe is smiling, but it quickly fades to a look of concern.

"Yes, we," Wright repeats. He goes to place a reassuring hand on Miles' shoulder, but withdraws as he suspects that he will only flinch away.

"I'm fine," Miles insists, awkwardly sandwiched between Gumshoe and Phoenix. His breathing is a little heavier than usual, and his eyes are darting in every direction. Phoenix realizes that he is probably claustrophobic, and steps back, relenting.

"Alright, but tell us if you aren't alright. If it's anything at all, okay?"

Miles nods, but the grimace on his face says that he probably won't reach out to his friends, even if he needs to. Phoenix sighs, and the three of them walk out onto the street.

The bar that they end up at is only a few blocks away from the courthouse, but it's not terribly dingy. It's a comfortable, well-lit atmosphere. It's January, so it's still brisk outside, and the warm air inside is refreshing. Taking a seat at a table instead of the already packed bar, Gumshoe and Miles settle in across from Phoenix. The detective leans back, keeping his distance from Miles, but Wright leans in, resting his weight on the tabletop.

The two make light conversation while Miles removes his coat and slings it over the back of his chair. He sits, crossing his arms across his chest and straightening up out of habit. A waitress had delivered menus, and he flipped through his, pretending to be interested in the font on the pages while he let his mind wander. It's only when he notices that his company has stopped talking that he wakes up.

"Miles?" Phoenix says, and it sounds like it isn't the first time he's called if his tone is anything to go by. He grunts in response, and Phoenix sighs. "She asked what you want."

It's only then that he realizes that the waitress is taking their orders. "Tea." He says. "Hot," he adds as she starts to walk away the instant he speaks. She nods, and Edgeworth sighs, his attention now turned to a skeptical attorney and fidgety detective.

"You all good, sir?" Gumshoe asks quietly, to which he receives a curt nod.

"You sure?" Phoenix says again, and gets a glare.

"Why are you up my ass?" He snaps, fists clenching against the table. Wright flinches, but Gumshoe looks nervously between the pair.

"Because we're worried about you, sir." He whispers, and Wright nods his agreement. "Do you know how odd you're acting?"

Edgeworth pauses. The normally oblivious detective is right; he's a master of calm and logic, and now he's lost his calm over Phoenix. "Again," his mind says, and he shakes his head to clear the thought, though the two only give him that pitiful look again, and he regrets it instantly.

"I haven't been getting enough sleep lately," he admits aloud, but their expressions don't change.

"Is it because of…" Phoenix trails off, crinkling his eyebrows.

Edgeworth rolls his eyes. "You can say it, you know. And of course, it's about DL-6."

Again, they give him that look. "You know, if you ever need to talk-"

Phoenix doesn't get to finish because he cuts him off again. "Why does everyone keep asking me if I need to talk?" He growls, drawing attention from the nearby tables. "If I wanted to talk to you, I would. I can handle my problems, thank you." He gets up and walks out, leaving his coat, tea, and Phoenix and Gumshoe even more worried than before.

As Miles walks to the courthouse, he realizes several things. One, that it's cold as hell out. Two, that he really doesn't know how to deal with this. He hasn't slept in a few days due to the nightmares, but that's nothing new. He doesn't understand why he's suddenly questioning the path he's taken, or why he can't process his emotions properly, or at all for that matter. Shivering against the cold, he goes to the parking garage, only to realize that three, his keys are in his coat pocket. Cursing, his legs act of their own accord, kicking the side of the sports car again and again. He kicks until he's sweating and there's a dent in the bumper and the vein in his temple is popping.

Before he could come to his senses, he hears his name in Phoenix's voice, only just louder than a whisper. He turns around, hands shaking, and sees the attorney with his coat in his hands. He feels his face heat up and he straightens his clothing, reaching for his coat. His hands meet only air, however, because Wright steps backwards, pulling the maroon coat flush against his chest.

"I'm guessing your keys are in here," Phoenix's voice wavers, and Edgeworth isn't sure whether or not it's from the cold. Face still red with shame, Edgeworth reaches out again, nodding with shame and keeping an eye trained on the snowy ground. "I'm not letting you go home like this." Phoenix says, and his fists tighten around the expensive cloth. "Not until I'm sure you can handle yourself."

Miles sighs, watching his breath turn to smoke in the ruthless cold of winter. He looks up, knowing that he's masked his emotions for so long, it should come easy. But somehow, the false smile on his face falters, and he's left with a crinkled brow as he inwardly scolds himself. He thinks how pathetic it is, and he chuckles aloud, ignoring the grave look that Phoenix shoots at him.

"Wright," he starts, clearing his throat once he hears his voice crack, "It's cold, and I just want to go home. Please," he tilts his still outstretched arm.

Phoenix looks intently at his palm, lost in thought. After a moment he sighs. "You're an adult. But promise me you'll be safe."

The request catches Edgeworth off guard. He stares at him, confused.

"Promise me you'll drive safe," he says, fingers still kneading the fabric.

Looking down in a grimace, Miles sighs. "Of course, Wright."

With a curt nod, Phoenix hands over the coat. Miles grabs for it, but the brunette lawyer's hand covers his own. He flinches, but Phoenix's hold is steady and firm. "I'm seeing you tomorrow for lunch. There's a coffee shop down-"

He doesn't get to finish; Edgeworth cuts him off, saying, "I'm quite busy tomorrow, I don't think-" A squeeze to his hands makes the words catch in his throat.

"Make the time." His expression hardens, and his words come out forceful, but then his tone turns to desperate. "Please," he says, softer.

Edgeworth knows that he means well, and the swelling feeling that comes over him makes him nod. "Fine," he consents, and finally, to his relief, the hands release him.

A sad smile crosses Phoenix's face. "It hurts," he mumbles, "to see you so distressed. If something were to happen…" he trailed off, shivering. "I'll see you tomorrow," he called, walking into the garage, out of sight.

Pulling up into his own driveway, Edgeworth puts the car in park and kills the engine. He doesn't move for a few moments, just breathes and tries to clear his mind. He asks himself, what was I thinking, and how could I be so stupid? With a sigh, he rests his head on the steering wheel. He's brought more people into this than he'd like to. It had been 15 years, and the last thing he wanted was for Phoenix, or Gumshoe, or anyone else, to bring up the incident with his father. He wanted it all to be a thing of the past, and with the case coming to an official close, he thought that it might finally give him some closure. Instead, it was brought fresh to his subconscious again, and now he couldn't get through the day without someone reminding him of it, giving him worried looks or asking about his wellbeing. He had never let it show, so why was he having trouble now, when it should be so much easier? Anxiously, he rubs his hands on his thighs. Upon wincing at the feeling of fresh scabs being brushed, he rubs harder, trying to forget his whole life in just a few moments of pain. Unfortunately, it's not enough, but then, it never is.

He drags himself out of his car, he walks up the path to his house. The moment he gets through the front door, he's loosening his cravat and shrugging off his layers. He drapes them over the back of a chair in his bedroom, still neatly, but not hung. He thinks about how he's made a life for himself, but now, with thoughts of his father rising back to the surface and this feeling of spiraling out of control, how it seems like everything that he's worked for up to now has been for nothing.

It's pathetic, he tells himself, how such an esteemed lawyer, who's worked for so many clients whose circumstances were so much worse, how effected he is by an event that was early in his childhood. How it's pathetic that he can't help but be haunted by it, despite all his efforts. How it's pathetic that such a hopeless romantic as Wright, after all these years, could still drag the most unusual and uncharacteristic out of him. Wright and Gumshoe both. Though Gumshoe knows how to handle him, which was unsurprising as they had worked together for years, Phoenix's morals held strong, even in the justice system. It makes Edgeworth uncomfortable, how he had managed to make a name for himself while still holding true to who he was and how he felt. It unnerved Edgeworth; made him feel less human than he.

Miles realizes he's been sitting on the edge of his bed in only his boxers. His head is throbbing and his chest aches. He feels conflicted and miserable, more so after thinking of going to bed. While he doesn't fear sleep, reliving his memories not only of his father, but the time afterwards is less than desirable. He tugs up the hem of the fabric to reveal a column of red lines, a few scabs broken from rubbing them. On top of the shame he feels from his father's death still bothering his and the inability to simply get through a normal day, his unhealthy coping mechanism only adds to that. But, breath shaking and tears threatening to fall from his eyes, Edgeworth plucks the razorblade from his nightstand and adds more cuts to the rapidly growing row. He allows himself to forget, just for a moment, the way he can't bear to go on normally or compose himself in court, then it's worth it.

He stops for a moment, as a single thought pushes through the relief spreading through him and halts his momentary high: Phoenix's face as he said, "It hurts to see you so distressed. If something were to happen…" Miles grimaces. The thought of Phoenix finding out about this, or any of what made him like this, was unbearable. He feels something unique for Phoenix. The thought makes him feel sick with guilt. But then, he's used to feeling guilt. If anything, the sudden loss of it that came with the closing of the case is less of a weight off his shoulders and more of an eye opener of how his whole life has been a misconception. He's comfortable with the guilt, he thinks, and hisses as he presses down on his skin hard.

He watches the blood bubble up, then gather in splotches, before tapering off at the ends slowly, leaving the end of the straight, even lines in scratchy, light waves. The tails only bubble up a little, and me moves further up towards his knee with each minute. Before long, his leg is covered in blood, and he sits back in his bed, simply breathing, unable to think clearly through the light throbbing of his leg. He allows himself a moment of calm, a calm that he craves, that once came so easily but now evades him, leaving instead a sickly, irking wrench in his gut.

All too soon, it fades, and his first thought is not of Von Karma or his father, for once; it's of Wright. Edgeworth remembers how Wright seemed to want to help, and right now, he would try anything to not feel this sinking misery and rush of shame. After all, enough is never enough. Grabbing several tissues from his bedside, he wipes down his leg more gently than he normally would, not wanting to be reminded of what he had just done instead of holding on to the distraction that the pain provided. He wraps the blade in the tissues and chucks them in the rubbish by his bed. Immediately, he grabs his phone and dials Phoenix's number.

It only rings once before he picks up. "Edgeworth?" he says, panicked. "Is everything alright?"

He doesn't answer the question, instead asking, "Do you remember when I asked if you became a lawyer because you wanted to help people?"

A pause. "Yes, why?"

Miles sighs, voice close to a sob. "I think I need some help, Wright."

Immediately, Phoenix voices his response. "I'll be right there."