March of 2018 was grim. The Matt Engarde case had been brutal on everyone involved. Perhaps the one who took it the hardest had been Wright. Although Edgeworth had intended to leave in a week to continue his studies, he recognized the flighty, upset state that the trial had left his old friend in and decided to hold off a short while longer. He couldn't be sure if he was doing it for Phoenix's sake, or his own peace of mind.

The night after the trial, he'd been roped into a dinner celebration by Maya and Pearl. Apparently Gumshoe and Wright had mentioned how much he'd helped them. Edgeworth accepted coolly and kept a quiet eye on Wright the entire time. For the most part, the defense attorney was detached from the conversation around him, and there were long spans of time that he spaced and left his dinner ignored while he stared at whatever was in front of him. Nobody could fault him for being despondent. Although it was sad, it wasn't what set the alarm bells off in Edgeworth's head that the damage was more severe.

A few tables away was a couple enjoying their own dinner. Nobody in their party paid the two any mind until, suddenly, the man broke out laughing loud enough for half the restaurant to hear. The second he did, Wright jolted and slapped his hand down on the table. His eyes were wide, and a cold sweat had formed on his brow as he forced his way through several shaky breaths. As quickly as his panic started, he bowed his head down and raked his fingers through his hair, the tension still very much present. Maya nudged him and asked softly, "You okay, Nick?"

He nodded stiffly before getting up from his seat. "I'll be back..." With that, Wright retreated to the restroom.

Edgeworth watched that blue-suited backside vanish around the corner. Just as Gumshoe was about to go after him (and by God the last thing Gumshoe needed was to get up with his injuries...), Miles stood. "Please, wait here. I'll check on him." He then stalked off after him, leaving the table in stunned silence.

Just as he suspected, Wright had retreated to the men's room. In the minute he'd been there alone, he'd flung his jacket over one of the stall doors, rolled up his sleeves, and was splashing water in his face. He heard the door shut and jumped, accidentally soaking his shirt front. "E-Edgeworth?"

Edgeworth contemplated his next several moves about as carefully as he prepared for a trial. The last thing he wanted was to make the situation worse. Wright needed to know he wasn't alone; he also needed to not feel trapped. With these in mind, Edgeworth moved himself a bit closer to the man, but offered space enough that if Wright wanted to he could walk out. His next words were chosen with the knowledge that being open ended made it too easy for the issue to be dismissed. "The trial is still bothering you, isn't it."

Wright's lips pressed into a thin line as he shut off the water. Those blue eyes couldn't meet his. "Yes," he answered quietly. There was a hint of shame in his voice.

The trial had only ended today, perhaps it was too soon for Edgeworth to raise any real concerns. "It's to be expected," he reasoned, leaning against the frame of one of the stalls. "Still, if you need to talk -" bashfulness struck him as he glanced aside to mask the heat that made its way to his face "- you have my number."

It surprised him when Phoenix laughed in response. "Thanks, I'll keep it in mind." With that, he fixed his sleeves, pulled back on his jacket, and they returned to the table together. The whole time, Edgeworth could still see the pain lurking under his hollow smile.

Two days later, Miles woke to his phone playing the Signal Samurai theme. It was a little past 1 A.M. Caller ID told him it was Phoenix. His heart gave a nervous thump as he answered the call. "Yes, Wright?"

"Hey, Miless..."

Edgeworth's brow pinched when he heard the way that his words dragged. At this point, he had gone out for drinks with the man on a few occasions and was familiar enough with the near slur. "Have you been drinking?"

"Maaybe," was the dismissive reply. "It's fine. I'm an adult."

With a barely suppressed groan, Edgeworth massaged his temple. "No, you're a man-child. At least tell me you're at home." A long pause followed, and for a second, Edgeworth wondered if something had happened. "Wright?"

"...Yeah?"

"Are you at home?" He repeated sternly.

"Oh. Yeah. I'm home."

Oh thank God... With an inward sigh of relief, he sat up fully in bed and asked next, "Is something wrong?"

"No, no," Wright replied. "I just... wanted to hear your voice is all..."

Just how drunk was this man? All the same, the words were as endearing as they were embarrassing. Thankfully Phoenix couldn't see him blush over the phone. "I see..."

And just like that, Phoenix went on, "I dunno, I just couldn't stop thinking about how you left before. You didn't even say goodbye or anything, and I thought you died."

"I apologize for that. At the time, I needed to figure things out. I do plan to leave again and continue my studies, but there will be proper notice when that comes about."

"Good."

There was such finality to that one word. It seemed that was the end of that issue. "Have you just been up drinking all night?" Edgeworth hazarded to question. From his experience when he'd been combating frequent nightmares, waking up alone and terrified was difficult. As soon as he was of legal drinking age, he chased off the nightmares with a few shots of bourbon. This progressed into less and less healthy means of coping that he shamefully hid the scars of under his pant leg. He'd lacked a support group to help him through that. If he could catch the problem early with Phoenix, maybe he could save him that bit of grief.

Wright was a little hesitant to answer, but he did puff and say, "No... I woke up and..." He trailed, perhaps the sentence was completed in his head.

Regardless, it did tell Edgeworth the crucial information he needed to know. "Please, don't make a habit of this, Wright."

A confused noise came over the line. "Habit? Nah... I'll be fine."

"I thought the same, once," Edgeworth admitted faintly, his grip on his phone subconsciously tightening. "Alcohol only makes things worse. Like I said before, you can call me if you need."

"You're being real nice, Miles," Phoenix mumbled. "Thanks."

There was so much Edgeworth wanted to say to that. He wanted to tell him just how much he meant to him, how he was worried for his sake. Would that only make him retreat? For fear of pushing too hard, he kept these words to himself and replaced them with "You're welcome."

Over the next week, Phoenix called Edgeworth every other night. Even though it was usually close to midnight, the prosecutor patiently talked with his friend until whatever was troubling him settled. Usually there was a note of distress in his voice, a tremble when he greeted him. Once out of those four calls, he caught the sound of sobbing on the other end as well. This all came about from the same thing every time, nightmares. Phoenix didn't talk about what he dreamed of. Every night he said the same thing:

"Sorry, I really wanted to hear your voice is all..."

Edgeworth couldn't find it in himself to be annoyed when the other man was clearly struggling, regardless of the sleep he was losing. Usually the call went anywhere from a half an hour to an hour, depending on just how bothered Wright was. The subject of his nightmare was dropped after a couple of minutes with the flimsy excuse of "I can't remember it." After that, they talked about anything that came to mind. Monday, it had been about court proceedings, Wednesday they talked about one of the latest cases to float through the prosecutors' office, Thursday was remembering elementary school and their antics as kids.

Saturday, Edgeworth tried to press him on his nightmares, at least a little bit. "Do you think it's the same general nightmare? Or is it different?"

He could hear Wright scratch his cheek over the phone. "... I don't know, honestly. I don't think they're the same, but I'm pretty sure they involve a lot of similar stuff..."

"How do you think they're the similar?" Already he got more information on the issue than he expected. Perhaps he had been projecting a bit when he assumed Wright would do whatever he could to avoid the conversation.

"Like there's a sense of betrayal," Phoenix answered quietly. "It's so bad, I wake up and I need to remind myself that nobody did anything wrong."

Edgeworth listened to this carefully, a few more pieces to the puzzle falling into place. "Is that why you call me?"

"Yeah... Having someone to talk to anchors me back into reality." Wright sighed. "If me calling you at odd hours all the time is a problem, I'll stop."

"No, no. I'm not bothered by it," Edgeworth assured, pacing his living room. His dog, Pess, watched him through one eye from her bed in the corner. "To tell you the truth, I've been using the time to make myself chamomile tea, so when I do go to bed, I get plenty of rest." As if to further his point, his tea kettle shrieked with steam in the kitchen. "Perhaps you should try it some time."

"Maybe. I'm not all that good at making tea though," Phoenix said.

Between pouring hot water over the flowery tea bag in his mug and juggling his phone with his shoulder and cheek, Edgeworth didn't exactly think his next words over as well as he should have. "Then I'll have to make it for you sometime." The moment he said it though, his face turned a brilliant red and he snapped his mouth shut. He sincerely hoped Phoenix didn't choose now to have one of his spontaneous moments of insight and catch the implication of his proposal.

"What? Like a sleep over?"

He definitely did... Edgeworth set the kettle down and rubbed his heated face. "Well, I- I suppose that would be the logical conclusion to draw from that statement, yes..."

"... I don't know..." Phoenix responded with a loss of confidence. "I've been pretty restless. I don't want to keep you up."

Edgeworth rubbed the rim of his mug with a thumb, his frown only deepening. "I understand all too well, I'm afraid. Regardless, consider this an open invitation."

"You sure, Edgeworth?"

"Yes, I am. Last year, I had been suffering much like how you are now. You got me through that. It's only fair I do what I can to help you."

With a note of guilt, Wright said, "You don't owe me anything."

The response only made him chuckle. "On the contrary. I owe you a great deal. But if it makes you feel any better, I'm not doing this out of some need to repay that debt."

"So you're just being charitable then?"

It was becoming increasingly clear that Wright was closing up. Something said must've triggered his defensiveness. If the prosecutor had to guess, he figured it had a lot to do with the man's confidence in others being so badly shaken after Matt Engarde's case. Edgeworth knew that Wright only took clients if he thoroughly believed them to be innocent. This time, he went in thinking he had to be, but had been just as caught up in the actor's web of lies as everyone else. If he were to get anywhere with Phoenix, it'd take time to establish trust. Already he knew he was working on a shaky foundation, after having left so suddenly last year. He couldn't afford to break his trust again like that. "It's not charity either, Wright. I know I've been rather poor at showing it, but I do consider you a good friend. As such, I care about your well being."

Where he expected some sort of response from the other, he was met with dead air. He double checked, but the call was still going.

In spite of his awkwardness towards affection of any kind, he kept going, if only to fill the silence, "Y-you've been through a lot last week. It's clear that it's still affecting you. I can't give you the answers you might be looking for, but I can at least offer support where I can for as long as you need it."

More silence.

Edgeworth clenched the phone in his hand. "Say something, Wright..."

"I'm sorry, Edgeworth."

The call ended there.

After that call, Edgeworth hadn't received another from Wright. Five days passed quietly for him, yet a storm of concerns were brewing in his mind with each night that the other man didn't call him. Had he pushed too far last time? Did he hit Wright in a vulnerable spot and ruin things? Was he still having nightmares?

He caved and went to Wright and Co. to check on him. At least, he hoped the defense attorney was in his office. If not, then he needed to go off a vague memory of the other's apartment address - which would be pointless if he moved. Odds were Wright didn't, but you could never be sure. When he pulled up to the curb though, he caught sight of Wright's bike chained off to the side, so chances were looking better now.

As Edgeworth climbed up flights of steps to reach the office, he realized then that he had no real plan and no excuse to talk to him outside of checking on him. It was very possible that if he said as much, then Wright would further distance himself. So he fabricated some reason to show up, and hoped that Wright wouldn't catch on to his real motives.

Although the office was open, he found it to be very quiet. Maya Fey was definitely not in at the moment, but her presence was there in the form of a Steel Samurai DVD and a half full cup of ramen on the table. She left in a hurry, apparently. But why?

Better question, where was Wright?

Three steps in, he was met with the sound of retching from the small bathroom. Edgeworth paused and stared at the door. There were two possibilities. First, Maya could be the unfortunate occupant, or it could have been Phoenix. Either way, someone was absent from this scene for one reason or another. He approached the door cautiously and gave it a couple of knocks.

"M-Maya?" Wright's voice answered weakly on the other side, followed by what sounded like heaving.

Edgeworth took a deep breath and opened the door. Just as he suspected, Wright's head was practically hanging in the toilet. His suit jacket had been hastily discarded, and his fingers pressed so tightly to the seat that his knuckles had blanched. The attorney spat a couple of times and groaned miserably before lifting his head to look back at him. His eyes were dark ringed, and his face wane with a sheen of sweat. The perfect picture of pathetic.

"Edgewor-" He cut himself off, his face practically turning green as he snapped his head back around and continued to throw up.

The prosecutor stepped in fully and knelt down beside Phoenix. Awkward and uncertain, he did what he remembered his father doing whenever he'd been sick as a dog, and lightly rubbed the other man's back. He wasn't sure how much good it would do, if it even did much in the way of comfort, but it was the only idea he had right now.

Eventually it became clear that there wasn't anything for Phoenix to throw up. All the same, he was wracked with agonizing dry heaves for a short time after before his body settled down. He rested his cheek on the toilet seat, tears in his eyes and moaned. "...What are you doing here, Edgeworth," he asked weakly.

It was then that he realized that he hadn't spoken a word since he arrived here. "I was just checking in. You look like hell."

Wright sat up and flushed the toilet, but otherwise didn't move. "I feel like hell..."

Deciding to help him out, he left the room to get him a cup of water. Fortunately, he remembered from his last visit a year ago where he kept them. He returned and handed the defense attorney the cup. Phoenix accepted it quietly, but after he was able to take a hesitant sip, he was met with the back of Edgeworth's hand against his forehead. "You don't have a fever at least."

"It's not the flu," Wright told him flatly, and went to sip a little more water. With a shaky breath, he continued, "It's just a hangover... I'm not dying."

Edgeworth raised a brow at this. Had he been drinking because of another nightmare? Had he been doing this these last five days as well? "Perhaps you should head home early, Wright. You won't be able to get much work done in this state."

Wright didn't look him in the eyes, his gaze remained on his drink. "I barely made it here to begin with." He sighed and finally picked his head up enough to meet his stare. "Look, Maya and Pearl don't know. I don't... I don't know how to tell them about all this. So please, don't-"

At that moment, the office door opened. "Nick! I got some aspirin!" She rounded the corner and looked into the bathroom before pausing. "Mr. Edgeworth! I didn't expect you to stop by."

From the corner of Edgeworth's eye, he saw the desperate look Phoenix gave him - one fearful of being found out. The prosecutor fixed a bit of his hair that had fallen out of place and gave Maya an even look. "I came to pick up some files from Wright. Seeing as he's ill though, I think it would be best if he went home and rested. I can give him a ride so he doesn't get into an accident on his bicycle."

Maya blinked and tipped her head. "Well okay. If you say so. I've got some cleaning up to do around here, so I guess make sure Nick gets home okay."

"Of course." Before Edgeworth stood up though, he turned to Phoenix and mouthed, "We'll discuss this later." The nervous look on his friend's face confirmed he got the message loud and clear.

Although Edgeworth had intended to use the car ride as his chance to interrogate Phoenix about the issue, the opportunity didn't present itself as the defense attorney was battling with serious car sickness and spent most of the drive to his apartment with his head huddled between his knees. Perhaps his saving grace was the fact that he'd already emptied his stomach back in the office. If there was anything, it was a few sips of water and stomach acid. It was also a mercifully short drive to Wright's apartment.

Said short drive ended with Wright scrambling from the car and heaving again by the cover of a shrub. Just as Edgeworth had predicted, very little came up. Once he'd stopped dry heaving a couple minutes later, the two proceeded inside. Having never been to the other man's home before, Edgeworth was surprised by its messiness. It wasn't beyond saving, but there was blanket of clutter that covered the living space. A few hours of organizing would solve his problem.

Wright slipped off his jacket and discarded it on the small island that separated the living room from his small kitchen space. Without stopping, he made his way over to the couch and rolled onto it.

As Edgeworth fully entered the apartment, he caught sight of several empty beer bottles left out on the counter, evidence of Wright's late night drinking on top of his hangover. "Has the aspirin helped at all?"

Phoenix mumbled something, his head buried in the couch cushions, before he turned his head just enough to be heard and said, "A little..."

"Good. Then perhaps you would like to answer me this: why were you drinking?" He did his best not to sound too angry about the situation.

"... I had another nightmare..." Wright absently picked at a loose fiber on the cushion. "You don't need to stay... I'm a hopeless case."

A hopeless case? Was that truly how he saw himself? Edgeworth stepped towards the couch and spoke firm but evenly. "You're not hopeless, Wright, and I'll stay as long as I am needed."

Tears glistened in Wright's eyes, but they remained trapped there as he shut them. "You don't..."

"Wright. Listen to me. I want to help you." He sat on the edge of the couch, a hand going to lightly hold Wright's shoulder. "So please, stop pushing me away."

The hungover man shuddered, but still managed not to cry. He didn't move, staring off at the wall as he remarked in little more than a whisper, "You say you want to, but you've left before... That's what you always do..."

There was a sharp and bitter truth to those words that Edgeworth wished he didn't need to acknowledge. He did leave without telling anybody. He didn't explain to anyone that when he wrote 'Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth chooses death' that he meant the death of The Demon Prosecutor who was on the fast track to being a Manfred von Karma clone. As a result, he learned that several people assumed he killed himself in the literal sense, Wright included. "Believe me, there's not a day that goes by when I don't feel guilty for running away as I did. I could have communicated better with you and other people around me, and I understand that now. Back then though, I thought that someone would try and stop me from leaving. I was foolish."

"I did believe in you, Edgeworth," Phoenix pushed his hand off his shoulder and sat up. Frustration pinched his features as he glowered at Edgeworth. "Hell, I believed in you when you didn't believe in you. And then you left with a suicide note! We searched for you for months! I kept wondering when I'd see a headline in the news saying they found your body somewhere! Do you have any idea what that feels like?"

"No, I don't..."

By then, Wright was already on a tangent and didn't acknowledge his answer. "And then you show up out of the blue again, back from the dead like you're Jesus fucking Christ! You had the nerve to tell me I didn't understand my place in court. I knew my god damn place, Edgeworth! I always did! And here you are now telling me to trust you after all of that?" Two seething breaths followed this before his brought a hand up to his head. "Fuck..."

Edgeworth took a deep breath. He'd expected this sort of blow back at some point. Right now, what Phoenix needed was to let his problems out into the open, and he couldn't let himself get angry at the other man's emotions. "You're right. But please understand, I'm trying to do my best to fix things now. I understand I need to earn back your trust. At least give me the chance to do so."

Phoenix continued to rub at his face, groaning. "Why should I?"

"Because I was in your shoes last year, remember?" Edgeworth got up. "I didn't want to let you help me either. If you had just given up when I pushed you at arm's length, I would have been found framed for murder. The stakes aren't necessarily that high, but I can't let you suffer in silence like I had. You deserve better than that."

Some of the hostility vanished from his face, replaced by clear remorse. "... I'm sorry for yelling..."

"Don't be. I'm willing to weather this storm with you for however long that takes," Edgeworth told him and walked over to the kitchen. He opened a few cabinets until he found the man's cups. He filled one with water, then returned to the side of the couch, offering the drink to the other. "Here."

Phoenix gave a shallow nod and accepted the cup. "I'll try and trust you again."

"Thank you, Wright," he replied gently. "Like I said before, if you need to talk, you can call me."

"... I will then. Thank you, Edgeworth."

April came with a new sense of direction as far as his handling of Wright's situation. Edgeworth was doing anything in his power to make sure Wright wasn't drinking in excess; this mainly involved encouraging Wright to call if he felt the urge. Sure, he was woken up at the odd hours of the night, but if they were going to make any progress then sacrificing some sleep was a meager price for him to pay. He also made sure to check in at Wright's office on a more regular basis, often under the pretense that he intended to invite him to lunch.

One night, Wright was in worse shape than usual over the phone. While Edgeworth had come to expect some strain and fatigue in his voice, this time he was met with strangled sobbing that the defense attorney was trying and failing to get under control. Scared what would happen if he hung up, Edgeworth kept him on the line while he got dressed (just in a pair of slacks and dress shirt, he didn't have time to put on his usual suit). Between all the crying, there was something that he said that scared the prosecutor more than anything:

"I can't keep doing this, Edgeworth... I can't..."

"Wright, I swear to God, if you give up-" He stopped himself, hearing his rising voice and deciding that the last thing that man needed was someone yelling at him. He took a deep breath and started again, "I'll be over shortly. Please, stay on the phone until I get there."

Thankfully, this wasn't met with resistance, though he wasn't sure Wright had the energy or mental fortitude at the moment to argue to begin with. Before Edgeworth left his house, he grabbed a couple of movies and his box of chamomile tea. One eight minute drive later, and he pulled into the guest parking space at Wright's apartment complex. As much as he didn't like the neighborhood and worried for his car's safety, he didn't have the time to do anything about it. Wright buzzed him in and, soon enough, Edgeworth was at his apartment door.

Phoenix looked in worse shape than he'd imagined. His eyes and generally most of his face was red from all the crying he'd been doing, and his hair was so matted and fussed with that the spikes it usually ended in were nonexistent. Standing there, in a pair of boxers and a white undershirt, made the series of scratches on his arms and a cluster of forming bruises on his leg stand out starkly against his otherwise light skin.

Edgeworth gawked, at a loss for words as he took in the signs of self harm with a new found guilt weighing on his chest. How long had this been going on? He wouldn't have known otherwise since Wright's clothes could easily hide them. Thinking back to all the times though that he'd seen the man roll up his sleeves, he determined that the scratches were recent. The bruises couldn't have been there longer than an hour either. All of this seemed to be one very bad episode.

Seeming to sense his lack of comprehension, Wright looked down, his hand clutching the side of the door. "I- I fucked up..." His voice was terribly small in that moment, broken.

Those words snapped him from his shock. Edgeworth dropped what he was holding and closed the distance. Not giving his friend a chance to back away, he wrapped his arms around him and gave him a tight hug. A tremor rippled through Wright, and a pair of hands gripped the back of his shirt. There was so much Edgeworth wished he could say, but the words just couldn't seem to form into coherent sentences in his head. All he could do for now was hold onto Phoenix while he cried all over again, face pressed to his shoulder and stuck on those same three words like a broken record.

When he did finally say something different, it was all the more painful. "You're going to leave again, aren't you..."

"I'm not leaving," he said immediately. "I'm staying right by your side for as long as you need me."

"B-but I did this... I'm hurting myself and I don't-" The more he talked the worse he got, his already hitched breathing turning erratic and rushed between his sobbing.

"Phoenix." He seldom called him by his first name. This time, he needed to get him to stop working himself up. "Breathe, okay? You're going to be okay."

Thankfully, this seemed enough to stop the man well before he could go into a full blown panic. Phoenix took his advice and focused on slowing his breathing back down between fitful hiccups and whimpers.

As the sobbing died down again, largely because Wright must have been utterly spent and exhausted, Edgeworth told him softly, "We'll get these scratches cleaned up. Do you have any ice in your freezer?" He felt the man nod into his shoulder; he continued, "Good. I brought a movie and some tea as well."

Wright barely lifted his head up enough so he could speak. "Y-you're being really nice, Edgeworth..."

"You're a dear friend, Wright," Edgeworth said, for once not having it in him to be embarrassed over his own sentimental words. "This is what friends do for each other."

Much to his surprise, this actually got a very small laugh from Phoenix. Small, but genuine. "That... means a lot. Thanks."

Once they finally separated, Edgeworth pulled him to the bathroom to wash the scratches. For the most part, they were raised and an angry red, but there were some that bled a bit. He worked gently, as slight pressure was enough to make Wright wince. He wrapped them up in gauze so that they'd be a little more protected. Next he collected some ice in a sandwich bag and wrapped that in a washcloth for Wright's leg. With all of that set, he ushered the defense attorney to the couch and got to work on making tea and getting some spare blankets from the closet.

With the introduction of blankets, Wright practically cocooned himself in the time the other was in his kitchen making tea. The sight was just cute enough for Edgeworth to smile as he set two mugs on the coffee table. "I know you're not the biggest fan of Steel Samurai," he mentioned, "honestly I wasn't all that sure what you would like."

Phoenix poked his arms out from the blankets to pick up his mug and sipped the steaming liquid thoughtfully. "Mm... It's not that I don't enjoy the show. When I did watch it, I liked it. It's just that Maya's such a huge fan that I got burned out pretty quickly after Will Powers' case." He looked down at his drink, a frown finding its way to his face. "Actually, to tell you the truth, I kind of hate all the newer samurai shows..."

"Even Pink Princess?" Edgeworth crossed his arms, though his posture was otherwise loose. Once upon a time, he remembered having some light conversation about the show with him when it first came out, and he seemed fine with it.

"That one's different." Wright gave him an even look. "At least the leading actress in that show hasn't killed anybody."

As much as he wanted to press him on that remark, knowing full well that it was a hint at what sort of shadow was looming over Wright, he chose to let it be for the time being. First Will Powers being framed for murder, and then Matt Engarde forcing him to defend him with Maya as a hostage. It was no wonder a lot of the newer shows held such negative emotions for him. Edgeworth picked up the DVD he'd brought. "Lucky you, I have Rainbow Samurai."

Surprise lit his blue eyes. It was a welcomed bit of liveliness after everything. "You watched that one?"

"When I first moved back to the US, I got my hands on a copy." He turned on the TV and popped the DVD in. "Sadly I couldn't watch it when it initially aired. Franziska hated it and monopolized the television."

Wright smiled, watching him select the first episode. "I used to watch it in middle school. Larry thought I was being dumb for still liking these kid shows."

"Larry bases his opinion on what he thinks will get him a girlfriend." Edgeworth deadpanned.

With a snort, Wright put his tea back down and snuggled back into his blankets. "Yeah."

There was one blanket Wright hadn't monopolized, and Edgeworth neatly draped it over his shoulders, watching the opening theme play with all it's vibrant colors. After all that had happened, there was still one thing that remained towards the forefront of his mind. "Wright, about your nightmares..."

"Oh..." The man frowned and looked down. "What about them?"

"Just what sort of nightmare was it that set you off like this tonight?" As soon as he asked it, he feared that it would chase him back into his shell. He quickly added, "If you don't mind me asking."

Phoenix took a slow breath. "... I had a nightmare that you killed yourself..."

Edgeworth processed this slowly, reminded of the man's breakdown late last month. Maybe he was wrong about the Matt Engarde case hurting Wright so severely. It seemed, of all the people in Wright's life who wounded his trust the most, it had been him this whole time. "I see."

"That's why I keep calling you," he continued, a tremor in his voice. "I need to hear your voice, and prove to myself that your alive. I'm scared I'll lose you again."

Edgeworth looped his arm over Wright's shoulder - or as well as he could with about a half dozen blankets wrapped around him. "And here I thought you had lost faith because of a client when it was my own actions that caused you this pain. I'm much denser than I thought."

Tucked under his arm, Wright shifted until all but his face was hidden beneath the covers. "It was a perfect storm. Engarde and de Killer scare me a great deal. They demonstrated how easy I am to manipulate."

"Sometimes your good intentions can be used against you. That doesn't mean you should stop doing what you think is right."

With that, the conversation died. They watched the show quietly, commenting on it every so often, but otherwise not talking. Eventually, Edgeworth tiredly noted that over the last hour, Phoenix had gone from sitting about a foot away on the couch to close enough where his head was rested on his shoulder. The prosecutor almost mentioned this aloud when he realized that the man had fallen asleep like that.

He couldn't help giving a faint, but all the same relieved smile as he took in the innocent and peaceful look on Wright's face. Edgeworth pondered what to do, if he should wake Wright up or attempt to slip free and go home to sleep in his own bed. He himself was tired, enough where he didn't feel entirely confident in his ability to drive without nodding off behind the wheel. He yawned lightly and shifted so he could prop himself on a couple of the couch cushions and shifted the other man's head down to his lap. That was the best he could do for fear of waking him up. A few minutes later, he too nodded off.

April flew by much faster than the painful crawl of March. For the first half of that month, Edgeworth found himself coming over to Phoenix's apartment and sleeping over more and more regularly. This progressed from Edgeworth coming over in the middle of the night to help calm Wright after a nightmare to simply coming over after he took care of Pess at his own home. Those nights, he slept on the couch, often waking up to Wright walking out to the living room and sitting at the end after a nightmare. This often led to them drinking some tea and falling asleep on the couch together. After about a week of that happening though, Phoenix offered to let Edgeworth sleep with him in his bed, stating that it'd be more comfortable and less back pain that way. Edgeworth had no good argument against that - or purposely chose not to find one. Shortly after that, Wright's nightmares happened less and less regularly. When they did happen, Edgeworth woke to find the other man tightly cuddling into him like a child would a doll.

Mid April came though and Edgeworth was starting to miss his dog. He decided to invite Wright to sleep over at his house instead, which the man all too readily accepted. Edgeworth's bed had more room than the twin bed in Wright's apartment, which was an added benefit. Pess was more than happy with a new person to play with, and Wright was happy to give her attention. The next two weeks slipped by quickly, and Edgeworth could hardly believe it when he checked the calendar to discover it was suddenly May 1st.

He'd meant to leave and continue his studies a little over a month ago... While he couldn't exactly complain that the time was wasted, he still wondered when he'd have the opportunity. With how things were going with Wright though, and how much more lively he'd become - resembling his old self more with each passing day - Edgeworth assured himself that it'd be safe for him to depart in the near future.

The topic of his leaving came about over lunch. Phoenix had insisted on treating him that day, a change from the usual deal of Edgeworth simply covering them both or them making food at home. While they waited for their food at the small diner, Phoenix asked him a question he hadn't been expecting. "So what do you make of us at this point?"

Edgeworth stared at him, not entirely sure what the question meant. "Pardon?"

"Like what do you think we are right now in terms of relationship?" Phoenix elaborated.

He mulled this over carefully. In the last month, they'd become rather close for sure. Plus they'd been sleeping in the same bed for a few weeks now... As soon as he thought of this, Edgeworth's face turned rosy and he bit the inside of his lip. Could he even call Wright a friend at this point? They'd grown so familiar with each other, and he'd be lying to himself if he said he didn't feel a thing for the defense attorney. "... I... um... I suppose you could say we have gotten extremely close..."

"So you agree, this isn't just a two friends sort of thing," Wright said.

"I think it stopped being that when you let me sleep in your bed..." Edgeworth mumbled and took a sip of water to mask some of his bashfulness. "Why do you ask, Wright?"

"Because I wanted to know if we're on the same page with this." With a broad grin, something the prosecutor didn't realize he'd missed so much until it'd been missing for so long, Wright reached across the table and took Edgeworth's hand. "Miles, would you be my boyfriend?"

As if he wasn't blushing enough, he was practically burning now. Him and Wright in a relationship? It sounded too good to be true. It was then he reminded himself of his intentions. "Wright... I don't know. I mentioned before that I planned on continuing my studies abroad. I could be gone for a while."

Much to his surprise, Wright squeezed his hand a little tighter. "I can live with that. You deserve to take your career wherever you want. Still, I'll be here and I'll wait for you to come back, even if it takes a few years."

"You don't mean that..." Edgeworth looked down at their hands, far too embarrassed to meet Wright's bright blue eyes. His heart may as well slam its way out of his chest with how wildly it was hammering.

"I mean every word." Phoenix insisted. "I waited fifteen years to see you again. Four won't be nearly as bad."

"You'd... really wait for me?" This sounded too good to be true.

"Yes! Miles, I love you, okay? I've always liked you since we were kids." He took Edgeworth's other hand and was so close to standing in his seat. "I've been scared to trust people for a long time, but you didn't let me suffer alone and I don't think you ever plan to. You're that someone I trust more than anyone. If I ever needed you, I know you'd do anything to be there for me, and I'll do anything to be there for you too."

"Wright..." Slowly, his hands returned the pressure that the other's hold had on them. He picked his head up, absolutely certain his face was beet red. "If you mean that, then... then I accept."

The smile that graced Wright's was one that reminded him of when they were kids, that giddy expression that made Edgeworth happy to be around him, happy to know him. He smiled in return.

Towards the end of May, Edgeworth stood in the airport, his flight to Germany in the next twenty minutes. Phoenix stood there with him before the mess of security he had yet to go through and smiled sadly. "You'll call me when you make it over, right?"

"Of course, first thing," the prosecutor assured. "And you won't overfeed Pess, correct?"

"I'll follow the instructions you left to the letter," Phoenix replied.

Edgeworth smiled. "Good." He glanced back, deciding that if he didn't leave soon then TSA would make him late for his flight. "I have to go now. Thank you for seeing me off."

With a nod, the defense attorney maintained his smile. "Be safe, okay?"

"I will be." In that moment, he set his suitcase down and wrapped his arms around Wright in a tight embrace. Without hesitating, Phoenix returned it wholeheartedly, hands slipping beneath his coat and chin resting on his shoulder. Edgeworth heard him sniffle a bit by his ear, and gave him a consoling pat on the back. "Take care of yourself, okay?"

Phoenix nodded against his shoulder.

He pulled back slightly, enough to take in the teary eyed look on his boyfriend's face before he leaned in and pressed a brief but loving kiss on his lips. They'd only ever kissed on the cheek or the forehead until then, and he'd be damned if he left without one proper kiss. He wasn't disappointed either. Phoenix's lips were soft and worked against his eagerly. When he separated, he noted with satisfaction that Phoenix's face was flushed for a change. "I'll see you around, Phoenix."

Months passed far quicker than Edgeworth had expected since that day. His studies kept him very busy, but he made sure to set aside time for calls with Phoenix. Thankfully, the other man had managed not to slip back into his depressive state with Edgeworth's absence. The two shared cheery conversations, shared stories about what was going on in their lives. Phoenix even started taking cases again after some odd incident involving a thief and some Fey Clan heirloom - an urn apparently.

Before they knew it, the holidays came and passed and in came February. Edgeworth was planning a nice surprise for Valentine's Day between reading case files. On the 7th, early in the morning he got a call from Larry.

"It's me! Laurice Deauxnim!" was about all he caught before the younger man flew into hysterics that Edgeworth couldn't hope to interpret.

"Larry?" He shut his eyes, too tired to deal with his antics at 3 in the morning. "Tell me what happened."

"It's Nick! The bridge was on fire and he fell and I think he's dead, man!"

Miles sat stiffly when he heard this. Phoenix dead? That couldn't be right. He'd called the man just yesterday. Apparently he was accompanying Maya and Pearl into the mountains for their spirit training. What could've possibly gone wrong? "I'll catch a flight back as soon as possible. And Larry? Call. 9. 1. 1." Not being able to stress that last part enough, he hung up jumped straight to arranging a flight back to Los Angeles.

The next 24 hours were a blur to him as he got a flight, made it all the way back to the west coast, and drove his way to Hotti Clinic. The moment he landed, his phone was going nonstop. Calls from Larry, calls from Gumshoe, from Franzskia... It was getting a bit ridiculous. At least with all these people trying to contact him, he knew exactly where to go. When his phone died about a half hour before he arrived at the clinic, he couldn't help but feel some vague sense of relief. From what he gathered, Wright was alive and wasn't too badly injured despite falling from Dusky Bridge into the river below.

When he arrived, he was more than glad to see the man stubbornly trying to get up in spite of his clear fatigue. Edgeworth said with a note of dry humor, "Looks like you're still alive." This was enough to catch his ill boyfriend's attention.

"Edgeworth?" He once against tried to get up from where he was clutching the side of the cot, but his legs just wouldn't have it.

Without missing a beat, the prosecutor shut the door and helped Phoenix back into bed. When Wright attempted to get up again, he pressed a hand on his shoulder and nudged him back down. He gave the frustrated man a kiss on the brow. "Please, don't try and overexert yourself."

Phoenix gave a very shallow nod, looking like he may as well have been death warmed over with how pale he was. Apparently, according to the nurse, when he was fished out of the river, he had a serious case of hypothermia and had very nearly drowned in the freezing water. He'd also almost slipped into shock on the ambulance ride here. Logically speaking, he should have died. In fact, he should have died at least twice now from this incident alone.

"I don't know whether you're insanely lucky or unlucky, Phoenix," he sighed. Deciding that Phoenix probably wasn't going to get up, he pulled up the chair by the bedside and took a seat. "Seriously. Somehow you survived falling off a burning bridge into a river in the middle of winter with minimal injuries and bounce back from nearly freezing with a high fever. I should be impressed at your ability to shrug off death."

With an awkward laugh that broke into a fit of coughing, Phoenix cupped his hands on his lap. "I can't say I know either." He then gave him a curious look. "What are you doing here anyway?"

"Larry called me. He said you fell into a river and died."

Wright's good old sarcastic smile graced his lips. "I'm alive. As you can see. The hood probably saved my life..." He looked back over his way, the smile turning sincere. "Thanks for coming to see me, Edgeworth."

Holy crap this was a long one. I really enjoy this pairing and I've been a bit obsessed with the game and anime lately, so this is the result.
Matt Engarde's trial is just so interesting to me. Having that moral dilemma for Phoenix over whether he can in good conscience let a guilty man go free is just so good. I also really love how Edgeworth plays into that (in the anime at least, I haven't reached the part of the game yet), where he's able to notice Wright's distress and confronts him on it. Once he knows what's what, he helps him! It's just so good!

I wanted to explore a little bit of that shaken belief in others that Wright must've felt after Engarde more or less had him fooled. I also wanted a fic where it's Edgeworth helping a broken Phoenix, since most of the time it's the other way around. I also wanted the story to end on a positive note. The idea I had was Wright's tipping towards depression and making poor decisions to cope, and Edgeworth recognizes all of these warning signs because he's literally already lived through them.

Anyhow, thank you for sticking with me.