It was dark. Miles Edgeworth could not sleep.

He was leaning against the headboard, squeezing a pillow in his arms, watching the moonlight spill over the smooth covers of his bed. He hadn't bothered to actually get into bed; he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep. The red numbers of the clock told him it was 1 AM.

In Germany it would be around 9 o'clock. He was wondering what she was doing. She was probably brewing some tea, staring out the window, skipping the meal portion of her breakfast. She might be reading a newspaper, one that most likely contained an article describing his triumph over Phoenix Wright, a brutal slap on the face in her perfection-crazed mind. She could be in a café, watching people go by aimlessly and trying to take her mind off of the past few weeks. Or she could simply be sleeping, like he was supposed to be doing.

No, he decided at last. She wasn't the type to sleep in. He released his grip on the pillow and sighed, remembering the encounter at the airport with a slight twinge of embarrassment. He didn't know what had come over him at that moment. Just the sight of her breaking down was something that he had never seen in all their time together. And then she had bitten her lip, shyly almost, and then…

It wasn't the first time she had gotten the better of him. She saw his carefully composed face, heard his cold words, but she had never actually known him. Mirroring his own perspective, really… he could see her motives, but her words, her actions, her feelings… they were baffling. In his mind's eye he saw her face again, first at the airport, then slowly mixing into images of the past. The first time an earthquake had struck, and she had patiently sat with him for hours until he could regain his senses. The time in spring when they went out to see the flowers and he had carried her home when her shoe broke. The time when he had left for America, parting ways with her silently because he couldn't bear to think of her reaction. And finally learning, after 5 long years, that she had come back solely to find him.

He glanced at the clock again. 1:17 AM. Then his gaze shifted to the phone lying beside it. He could call her now, he thought. What would she say to him? She had broken through his calm façade at the airport, and he had run away before she could she could see his timidity. What would she say to him? He was a coward. He had run away, leaving her behind, so many times… his mind was whirling painfully.

Enough with running away, he thought.

He reached for the phone.