Archive of Our Own

"This court finds the defendant Not Guilty."

The Chief Prosecutor did not applaud with the rest of the gallery, as he'd never quite understood that particular response to the ending of a court trial. It was not a performance for the sake of entertaining the uninvolved masses; it was a sacred ritual - a battle fought to protect truth and justice. Clapping at the end of it just seemed asinine.

Still, congratulating the victorious party did fall within the bounds of what he considered appropriate, especially when that individual was a dear friend. Miles flipped his organizer shut and stood, tucking the black folder under his arm as he joined the rest of the observers in their slow filing out of the courtroom. His review of the younger of the Payne brothers would not be kind. He could not fault the two of them for being assigned defendants that were innocent, but he could and would fault them for their obvious lack of investigative prowess.

He entered the defense lobby to the sight of Trucy Wright crushing her father in an unnecessarily tight hug, judging by the look on the attorney's face. "Great job, Daddy! You really stomped that mean ol' prosecutor, huh?!"

Wright gave his teenaged daughter a somewhat modest smile. "Yeah, well, Mr. Johnson was innocent, so I did what it took to prove that."

The much younger attorney Apollo glanced at the nearby clock. "And it's only 11:00. Yeah, I think Trucy's description of 'stomped' was pretty accurate, Mr. Wright."

"Indeed."

All three of the people in the lobby looked up or turned sharply at the sound of Miles' voice; clearly, none of them had noticed him enter. "Oh, hey, Edgeworth," Wright greeted him with a friendly smile, though there seemed something... off about it, as if he was nervous for some reason. "I noticed you sitting up there. Can't imagine you came down here just to see me." That smile turned a little bashful.

Miles shrugged, reaching up to adjust the glasses on the bridge of his nose. "As Chief Prosecutor, I must regularly observe my subordinates to ensure they are effectively representing the state. It was merely a coincidence that you stood opposite the man I was reviewing."

"Oh." He thought he detected a flicker of disappointment, but it was gone in an instant. He might've thought he'd imagined it if Trucy didn't suddenly look so curious. "Well, that makes sense. Good to see you, anyhow."

"I did come to congratulate you, regardless," Miles informed him. "You did quite well... Better than usual, in fact." It was the truth. Miles had honestly found himself watching Wright more closely than Payne, and he'd detected very little of the usual fumbling. Wright had never lacked for determination, but confidence was another issue, confidence in his own abilities, anyhow. Today, that had not been the case.

A faint blush colored the older attorney's cheeks. "Oh, uh... Th-thanks, Edgeworth. I just, well, um... I guess this was just a pretty straight-forward case."

Trucy giggled. "Daddy, you sure do blush a lot around Mr. Edgeworth."

Wright winced, and this time Miles feared he was going to start blushing as well. "A-anyway, what do you guys say we go out for lunch? My treat, since I just won and all."

"Okay!" Trucy exclaimed excitedly, her observations of her father's behavior forgotten.

Wright looked over at Miles. "You coming, Edgeworth?"

Miles frowned slightly in consideration, mentally sifting through all the work he still had to do and estimating how much time it would likely take. Finally, he sighed. "Yes, very well. I cannot linger long, however."

Within the next half-hour, Miles found himself nibbling at a bowl of pasta that had surely been doused with an entire shaker of salt, listening to Trucy and Apollo banter back and forth about the case and other events at the law office... agency... thing... Wright was doing very little talking. In fact, he appeared to be zoning out, only responding when he was directly addressed by name. Miles himself did little talking, but that was nothing new. It was a handy excuse, anyway, as he spent most of the meal watching Wright out of the corner of his eye while pretending to listen to the other two. Something just seemed wrong about his old friend, but he couldn't place it. Perhaps he was just imagining things; it wasn't as if he spent much time around the newly-reinstated attorney, considering his work took up most of it.

Miles was actually a bit surprised when he checked his phone and discovered it was already time for him to leave. He slipped the device back into his pocket and cleared his throat before standing up. "I apologize, but I must depart. Thank you for the invitation, Wright."

"But, Mr. Edgeworth," Trucy protested, "you barely touched your noodles!"

"Thanks for coming, Edgeworth," Wright said with a distant smile. "I hope you find more time in your schedule. We enjoy having you around, you know?"

Miles graced the group with his half-smirk. "Or, perhaps you are simply hoping that I will start picking up the check on these frequent outings." That got Wright to laugh, but it sounded forced. "I bid you all adieu." With that, Miles pivoted on his heel and walked away from the outdoor table toward the sidewalk to return to where he'd parked his car. He only made it about half the distance when he heard running footsteps behind him.

"Mr. Edgeworth! Wait up a second!"

He turned in time to see Trucy bounding up to him, her magician's cape flying out behind her as she ran. She skidded to a halt right in front of him, panting ever so slightly. "Can I talk to you real quick? It's about Daddy."

Miles folded his arms as he peered down at the teenage girl. "I... suppose," he answered. His gaze then drifted back to where the other two sat, and he witnessed Apollo talking enthusiastically about something to Wright, an account that involved a lot of rather large arm gestures: an obvious distraction tactic, but it appeared to be working. "Is something the matter?"

"Yeah, but I don't know what it is," Trucy replied, a look of genuine concern coming over her young face. "I've asked him a few times, but he just shrugs it off and says it's nothing. I know he's lying. Even Polly's noticed, and Athena says she can hear his heart crying out. All three of us know there's something really wrong, but he just keeps denying it, and we can't figure out how to make him talk."

Miles was aware of the deep frown creasing his features, but he couldn't help it. All that business about 'crying hearts' was absurd... even if all these special powers Wright's subordinates claimed to have did somehow produce results. Still, he could not ignore these concerns. "I see... And you believe I will have better luck?"

Trucy bit her lip. "Well... Daddy is always saying how you're a genius when it comes to investigating and getting people to spill their secrets. Besides, he really cares about you. If there's anyone left who can get through to him, it's gotta' be you!" Her eyes were now pleading with him, but he didn't need the help of such a look to agree to help.

Miles took in a deep breath and let it out before next speaking, returning his gaze to the two attorneys in the distance. Apollo was now standing up, and while Miles had no idea what he was miming, it looked like he was getting a workout. "I will make an attempt, but first, I would like you to tell me of anything strange you have noticed, any particular actions or behaviors that might shed some light on the situation. It is much more difficult to investigate without a lead."

Trucy brightened a little at the knowledge that he would indeed help. "Well, one thing in particular, actually: Daddy has been going out at night a couple times a week. He usually leaves around seven or eight, and he doesn't come back until after midnight when he thinks I'm asleep. When I ask him where he goes, he just says he's investigating some things. I know he's lying when he says it, but I can't figure out why. He's also been extra-quiet on the days where he goes out lately. Athena says he's afraid of something."

Though he remained outwardly stoic, Miles could feel the coil of dread in his stomach. This sounded rather serious. "In that case, could you inform me the next time he plans to go on one of these mysterious excursions?"

"Tonight," Trucy stated with resolution.

Miles raised an eyebrow. "You seem rather certain. Is it always the same days each week?"

The young magician shook her head. "Nope, but Athena can hear how afraid he is. She can always predict when he's going to go out because of the pattern. She told me this morning that he's going out tonight."

Miles uncrossed his arms and slid his hands into the pockets of his jacket, standing to his full height. "Thank you for informing me of this, Trucy. I will do all in my power to get to the bottom of this. If you notice anything more, please contact me posthaste."

"Got it!" she exclaimed, eyes bright with hope and determination. "I believe in you, Mr. Edgeworth! I know you care a lot about Daddy and won't let him down!" She wheeled around and started back toward the other two at a jog. "Thanks so much! See you later!" She broke into a full sprint, and Miles watched her return in order to relieve Apollo from his clearly exhausting duty. After allowing his gaze to linger on Wright's back for a few more seconds, the prosecutor turned and resumed his walk to his car, formulating a plan in his head.

Miles pulled up the parking brake and watched through his driver's side window as the form of his friend retreated into the dingy motel. His concern had elevated steadily as he'd followed the cab into this part of the city, and the look of this rundown building alone made him shudder in disgust. Nothing that Wright had to do in there could possibly be anything good. Now, he had to wait for the man to come back out, and doing so in a place like this in such a nice car was a little more than daunting. He leaned over to open his glove compartment, retrieving the handgun he kept within. Hopefully, he wouldn't need to use it, but he made sure it was loaded and within reach just in case.

Playing detective was nothing new to the Chief Prosecutor. He had always preferred to do his own investigations alongside the police, thus tailing and stakeouts were familiar territory. He had just never expected to be following and watching Phoenix Wright of all people. He truly dreaded what he would find here. If he were to discover Wright doing something illegal, he would be morally obligated and duty bound to turn him in for it, and no one would thank him for that, least of all himself. Trucy had sought his help for her father's sake, but her efforts could very well land him in prison. Miles would feel like a traitor if that came to pass, and that thought again brought on the desire to just pull right back out of this shady parking lot and go home.

But what if Wright really needed help? What if he wasn't doing anything illegal, was a victim of something. Either situation could easily explain his fear and his other strange behaviors. In either case, there was a dark truth hidden here, and it was Miles' calling in life to disinter and expose that truth, no matter how painful it might be.

Miles switched off his headlights and leaned back in his seat with a heavy sigh. He could be waiting here for a while, and keeping his attention focused on the door was going to take a lot of patience. He reached up to turn on his radio, though he kept the classical music that began to play at a low volume. The music would have to entertain him on its own, as reading or checking his emails on his phone wasn't an option; he had to keep watching that door. He had to catch Wright as soon as his business here was finished.

He drifted in and out of his thoughts over the next two hours. A few people exited the building, but he could tell by their silhouettes that they weren't Wright; the spikes really did make his shadow easy to recognize. It was nearly nine-thirty when he at last saw that shape emerge, and he sat forward to stare hard into the darkness, trying to keep track of Wright's movements. He expected the attorney to walk to the curb and hail a cab, but instead he moved along the crumbling sidewalk, headed for a nearby, poorly-maintained park surrounded by a rusty fence with a broken gate.

Miles started his engine but kept his headlights off, carefully pulling out of his parking spot to follow his friend as best he could. He pulled up as close as possible to the park, but Wright had disappeared into the darkness, as the place was overgrown by trees. At last, he had to turn his lights on, and the beams revealed the man he sought, sitting hunched over on a log beneath the overgrowth. Wright didn't even look up, his face buried in his hands and fingers clutching at his hair.

Concern mounting still, Miles cut the ignition and stepped out of the car. He took his keys, his wallet, and his gun with him and made sure to lock the vehicle before moving away from it toward where he'd spotted the obviously distraught man. He took great pains to move at a steady pace, knowing that he could easily startle his friend by approaching him at night in a place like this. However, even as he drew near, the attorney didn't seem to notice him.

"Wright?"

Wright gasped and his head came up abruptly, his eyes barely reflecting the distant street lamps that were the only source of light other than a waning moon. The two stared at one another for a time, and while it was near impossible to tell in such low light, Miles assumed the other man was working to overcome his shock at being found here. "E-Edgeworth, wh-what the...?" His voice sounded strained and hoarse, and Miles got the distinct impression he'd been crying.

"What are you doing out here at such an unreasonable hour?" Miles prompted, hoping to take advantage of his friend's surprise in order to get some kind of an answer before his guard could go back up.

"I-I could ask you the same thing," Wright stammered. "Were you following me?!"

"Yes." There was no point in trying to spin a tale, and even if he tried, Wright would see through it. "What business did you have in that disgusting, dilapidated motel? It hardly seems a place for a man of the law with a family to be visiting at night."

"Th-that's none of your business!" Wright snapped defensively. "What gives you the right to spy on me? I haven't done anything wrong!" Miles knew he had to be careful here. He was already starting to lose control of the situation, and the last thing he wanted was for Wright to become completely closed off to him.

"I never claimed you had," the prosecutor stated, folding his arms across his chest. "My actions were out of concern, not suspicion. Not only had i noticed your odd behavior, but your daughter approached me with a plea for help. It appears we were all justified in our concern, if your current state is any indication."

Wright was silent for a long time, just staring at him, and then he turned away, resting his head in his hands once more. "...You should leave... You're... not supposed to see me like this, Edgeworth. This is... just a moment of weakness. It'll pass. You don't need to worry about me. You've got enough to deal with."

"Hmph..." Miles turned his head to the side slightly. "You honestly expect me to accept that load of trite drivel? You know me better than that, Wright."

"...It was worth a shot..." the attorney mumbled, more to himself.

Miles watched him for a few moments longer, and then breathed a heavy sigh and stepped forward. "Wright, come with me," he demanded, taking a hold of the other man's wrist. He wasn't usually one for physical contact, but he felt he needed to be firm right now.

Wright tensed up, turning a look of surprise on him. "E-Edgeworth, what--?"

Miles gave his arm a tug. "Get up, Wright. It's cold out here and you're just asking to be mugged. Now, come with me." One more insistent tug and the attorney relented, standing shakily from his seat on the log and following along back toward the car with Miles' hand clamped tightly on his wrist. He was taken right to the passenger's side and Miles pulled the door open, relieved that at least he did not need to push the other man into the seat to get him to climb in.

Miles took up his own place behind the wheel and started the car, backing out of his parking spot without a word. The tension in the car was palpable and Wright refused to look at him. That was fine: he wasn't having this conversation while driving anyhow.

As they rode in pregnant silence, Miles kept glancing over at his passenger each time they passed below a street lamp or by a well-lit building. The man looked awful - there was no better word for it. His suit and hair were disheveled, he looked positively exhausted, his eyes were red and swollen, and he was sitting with a rigidity that could not be explained by unease. Miles was gripping the steering wheel with bloodless fingers and hunched forward slightly, trying to focus his attention back on the road to keep from simply demanding to know what had happened. He had to handle this with some tact and perhaps even gentleness, the latter of which was not exactly his forte.

He drove the attorney to his own apartment, a luxury condo located in the suburban outskirts of the city where the noise and bustle couldn't reach him. Still wordless, Miles led the other man inside, though this time he didn't have to pull him along. Once inside, Miles bade his guest take a seat on the plush red sofa and then headed into the kitchen to put on a pot of tea. He knew Wright wasn't exactly the biggest fan of tea, but it was a good drink for the purposes of relaxation.

The Chief Prosecutor returned to the living room bearing a tray with the teapot, cups, and saucers, which he placed on the coffee table. He added a splash of milk and some sugar to one of the cups and then handed it to his guest, who took it dispassionately with a mumbled, "Thanks."

Miles straightened up and held out a hand. "May I take your jacket?" he offered.

Wright glanced down at himself and didn't look back up before speaking. "...I'd rather keep it on, thanks."

Miles frowned slightly but didn't argue. Instead, he took a seat on the couch with about a foot of space between the two of them and picked up his own cup, from which he took a sip. He was watching Wright out of the corner of his eye, able to see him better now in the light from the small table lamp beside him. He only recalled ever seeing Wright look this bad once, and that was after he'd taken a plunge into Eagle River and fallen ill. He was trying to think of a way to begin this conversation, but nothing especially eloquent was coming to him at the moment.

"Wright." He turned to look over at the other man who was just staring into his teacup. "I want you to tell me what you were doing at that motel. Whatever it was has left you looking dreadful, so I will not accept that it was 'nothing'. I believe you owe it to the people who care for you to be honest about what has caused you such harm."

He watched as Wright's fingers flexed repeatedly around the teacup, and he feared the man might actually break it in his grasp. "Edgeworth... I wish you would've just left this alone... Don't you get it? I can't tell you, or I'd be doing harm to those same people who care about me... and that i care about in return."

"Someone is threatening you." That was the only logical conclusion. "You or your loved ones, and they are using that as leverage to force you into something." Thirteen years Miles had spent as a prosecutor, a career that had left him with an intimate knowledge of all variety of criminals and their crimes. Blackmail and extortion were more common than murder, and he just so happened to work in one of the most deadly cities in the nation. "There is no one around to hear you, Wright. I implore you to tell me what is going on."

"I can't," the attorney choked out, evidently fighting back tears. "Please, Edgeworth, I can't... for... for so many reasons. If I tell you, you'll pursue it, and then he'll..." He caught himself and snapped his mouth shut, but he'd let slip just a little more information, which meant progress was being made.

Miles knew he needed to get closer. Cold professionalism wasn't going to do the trick here. Slowly, he leaned forward to set his cup back on the tray and then reached up to remove his glasses - he only really needed them for reading and driving anyway - hoping this would make him look a little less like Chief Prosecutor Edgeworth and more like Miles Edgeworth, a friend. He then leaned over a little and placed a hand on Wright's forearm, a gesture that caught the attorney off-guard.

"Wright... Who is this man threatening and with what?"

Wright stared at him for a time, then swallowed thickly. "...You, for starters..." he at last confessed. "...A-and Trucy..." He took in a shaky breath that sounded suspiciously like a sob and turned his face away again, covering it with his free hand. "Edgeworth, he's got photos... pictures of Trucy walking home from school or at the mall with her friends. He has one of you unlocking your apartment door and of you leaving the Prosecutor's Office. H-he knows where to find you, and... and I'm sure he's got... friends... people that can carry out his threats if he's caught."

To say that Miles was unnerved by the idea that someone had been following and taking photos of him for the purposes of extortion was a drastic understatement, but he had to put aside his own discomfort for the time being. "Wright, look at me."

It took a few seconds, but at last the attorney turned his head back around. He didn't meet the prosecutor's gaze, but he was facing him at least.

"After all these years, do you truly think I would be tactless enough to get myself and your daughter hurt?" He was giving Wright a solemn look as he continued. "You count experienced detectives and the Chief Prosecutor himself amongst your friends, and yet you would allow yourself to be threatened in such a way? I understand your fear, but you must think: By allowing this to continue, you are only hurting yourself and those you care for through your obvious suffering. Have you not realized - after all that has happened in your life - that you do not have to bear your burdens alone?"

At this point, the attorney was trembling, his blue eyes glistening with tears yet unshed. Certain he was about to spill hot tea all over himself, Miles carefully pried his fingers from the cup and took it away to place it on the table near his own, then returned his hand to the man's arm, his grip just a little tighter this time. The attorney's head dropped and a harsh sob rattled him - a grown man pushed to the brink.

"Phoenix."

A flinch and a slight gasp, and the man's head came up once more, their eyes finally meeting. The use of his first name had had the desired affect.

"You are safe here. Tell me what he has done to you... Please..."

Their eyes stayed locked for a few brief seconds that felt like an eternity, and then Wright lowered his chin and covered his face with his free hand, shaking as he broke down. "He's... h-he's a sadist and a psychopath... He's been... f-following me for years, apparently, a-and a couple of... m-months ago he... he gave me an ultimatum. E-either I..." He stopped for a time, both trying to swallow his sobs and work up the nerve to go on. In an attempt to encourage him, Miles moved his hand to the man's back, rubbing slow circles. It was the best way he knew to show his support in a situation like this.

"...E-either I... e-entertain him... o-or he would... t-take my daughter instead..." After forcing these words out, the man crumpled forward, completely burying his face and succumbing to wracking sobs. Meanwhile, Miles seethed as the meaning of those words slowly sunk in. His hand had stopped moving, as his entire body had gone rigid with shock. Perhaps he should have considered it as a possibility, but never had he wanted to even think that someone he cared for could fall victim to such a thing.

Often times, murder was considered the worst offense a human being could commit. To take another's life was deemed the most heinous of sins, but for all his years spent putting murderers behind bars, Miles disagreed. Yes, to kill was a terrible crime, but at times, murder had a purpose, a reason behind it that went beyond simple malice. In some circumstances, killing even had a noble purpose - to protect innocence, for example. Besides, even when the victim had not deserved death, death itself was finite. It was an end, a conclusion, a result. It accomplished something tangible, whether or not the action was just.

...But rape...?

There was no situation in which rape could be justified, not a single, solitary one. It was an act with no motive other than to establish power and cause pain, its only result to scar a person's mind for the rest of their life. Theft could gain a desperate man the money he needs to feed his family. Murder could protect one from another who wishes to do them harm. Rape, however, granted the offender nothing but a sick sense of pleasure and meaningless control. it served no higher purpose, could never be used for a greater good.

Thus, to Miles, a rapist was far worse than a murderer and deserved not a shred of mercy.

What was worse: it was Phoenix Wright who had fallen victim to such villainy. Phoenix Wright, a man he had known for over two decades and considered his closest friend, the man who had saved him all those years ago. He could not - would not - sit by idly and allow this to continue for even a moment longer.

As he sat stewing in rage, Wright continued to weep beside him, terrified and humiliated. Miles needed more information, but he could not force anything out of his friend while the man was in such a fragile state. He had to be gentle, to invoke trust and a feeling of security. The man not only feared for his own safety, but that of his adopted daughter, the latter of which was likely more responsible for his silence. Cautiously, he scooted just a little closer and with his free hand, gently coaxed Wright's away from his face to be replaced with his own. A tear-streaked cheek pressed into his palm, moisture continuing to leak from closed eyes.

"Phoenix, please..." It was nigh impossible to keep the anger out of his voice, but Miles did his damnedest. "Tell me who is doing this to you. Give me his name, and I swear to you, he will never see the light of another day without the filter of iron bars."

Wright now had a hold of the sleeve of Miles' suit jacket and was clutching his wrist in a death grip. He inhaled in a shaky sob and then swallowed, making a feeble attempt to compose himself and brace for his answer. "...I dunno if it's his real name or not, but... the name I have is... J-Jack Crandel... I m-meet him at different places e-each time... H-he... a-always tells me the morning of... wh-where to go..."

Miles was nodding as he spoke, even though it could not be seen. It was more an attempt to keep himself invested in the words and not his own fury. "I will begin investigating this man immediately, and I will have a covert guard placed on you and your daughter. The next time he contacts you, inform me without delay, and I will have a plan in place to capture and detain him before he can hurt you or anyone else." Miles' voice was stern and strong, but he could not keep the slight tremor from it, shaking caused by rage that boiled just beneath the surface.

At last, pained blue eyes opened to peer back at him with a mix of fear and desperation. "Miles, he... he's watching you, too," he insisted, and Miles did not miss the switch to his own first name. "H-he managed to find out how I feel about-- I-I mean... that we are close friends. H-he's told me exactly what he'll do to... to you and to Trucy if... if I don't cooperate."

Miles steeled his gaze and his resolve. "He will not lay a finger upon me or your daughter, nor will his goons. You need not fear any longer. This ends Now."

Phoenix stared back at him for several heartbeats, weighing his words and the trust he could place in them. Then, he was suddenly leaning in, his face suddenly hidden against the fabric of Miles' jacket and cravat. He was closer than he'd ever been before, and instead of recoiling as Miles had thought he might, he wrapped both arms around the shaking man and held him protectively. He allowed his old friend to soak his suit in tears without giving any thought to the mess, and his little personal bubble meant nothing, not right now.

"...thank you..." Phoenix whispered. "God... thank you, Miles... thank you... thank you..."

"Hush," Miles instructed gently, one hand rubbing the attorney's back while the other entwined itself in brunette spikes. "Rest now and spare your energy for the days to come. I cannot promise this will be easy on you, but so long as you place your trust in me, you will have both justice and peace of mind."

Phoenix shuddered and made a choked noise, sorrow still shredding his composure. Miles did not blame him, nor did he think this man weak. He had been strong for far too long; now it was time for him to lay bare his pain and allow someone else to take up the burden in his stead.

Miles would do so. He would turn that agony to righteous fury and use it as a blade to strike down the lowest scum of the human race, a savage beast calling itself a man. This Jack Crandel would rue the day he even so much as looked at Phoenix Wright the wrong way!

"Objection!" shouted the attorney across the courtroom from the Chief Prosecutor, leaning forward over his desk. "The prosecution has still failed to prove the act itself!"

"Objection!" Miles slammed his fist down on his own desk, shooting the opposing attorney a withering glare. "What is it you expect me to produce, Mr. Lawson? A video recording?! Would you seek to have the victim's humiliation played before the court so that you might enjoy it with your client?!" He stood up straight, making a gesture with his upturned palms. "I have presented to this court photos and videos to prove Mr. Crandel's stalking and voyeurism. I have produced recorded phone conversations between Mr. Crandel and Mr. Wright that contain the vile and disgusting threats the defendant has made, along with his demands. There are multiple witnesses to Mr. Wright's change in behavior and frequent outings, and I myself tailed him to one of these meetings. I have presented the recorded conversation from the night of Mr. Crandel's arrest, and most importantly, we have irrefutable testimony from the victim himself."

"B-but, you--"

Miles pounded the bench again, actually managing to make his opponent jump. "So, tell me, Mr. Lawson, what is it you want to see?! You are the only one with doubt left in his mind, and I suspect that is merely an attempt to weasel your way through some sort of loophole!"

Were this a public trial, there would have been a murmur through the gallery at the implications of Miles' words, but for the sake of protecting Wright's reputation in such a sensitive situation, this trial was open to only the most necessary observers: they were silent.

Lawson chewed his lip. "W-well, uh..." He quickly collected himself and pointed an accusatory finger at the prosecutor. "Okay, so you have proof of threats. Threats aren't the same as committing the crime itself, or doesn't the Chief Prosecutor know that?! I'll concede that my client has said some inexcusable things, but you can't prove that he ever did any physical harm to..."

This time around, Miles did not even have to shout. All he did was sigh - a long exhale of exasperation and waring patience. "Well, I had hoped to leave this be out of respect for Mr. Wright, but it seems the defense intends to force my hand."

The judge turned a look on Miles. "Mr. Edgeworth, do you have further evidence to present?"

"If it pleases the court," Miles began to rifle through the papers before him until he found those he sought, "I have here the official record from a recent hospital visit by one Mr. Phoenix Wright, along with an affidavit from the doctor who treated him." He held the papers out for the approaching bailiff to take and carry to the judge. Inwardly, Miles was relishing the look of dread on the opposing attorney's face; it wasn't a sight he had the pleasure of seeing much these days, as it was very rare for a Chief Prosecutor to actually stand in a court of law. "I believe Your Honor will find these records and the written summary self-explanatory."

The judge wore a deep frown as he examined the papers, and Miles regretted that he'd had to use such a distasteful trump card. He had wanted to preserve as much of Wright's dignity as possible, but putting that cur behind bars for the rest of his life was more crucial. The threat to his own person was nothing to him by comparison; people had been threatening harm and death upon him since he'd first started making a name for himself as a prosecutor. He was doing this for the sake of justice, and - perhaps more importantly - for Phoenix Wright.

...A thought he wasn't sure how to feel about, but it was a genuine one, so he let it linger and let it fuel the fire in his eyes as he stared down the defense attorney quaking in anticipation.

The judge practically slammed the papers down on his desk, his expression resolute. "There is no longer any doubt in my mind. This report is quite clear, and quite frankly, I am disgusted. I see no reason to draw out this trial any further."

Miles took a bow, though it was really just for show, to keep up appearances; his pride had nothing to do with this case or why he had decided to prosecute it himself. "I thank Your Honor for his wise judgement."

The judge turned a hard glare on the defense attorney. "Mr. Lawson, do you have anything more to say?"

"I... er... That is... The defense..." The man stopped, and a tense silence settled over the courtroom, his next words hanging as if suspended in plain view in the center of the room. Then, he leaned forward and pounded his desk with both fists. "W-wait, Your Honor! The defense feels that a verdict at this time would be premature!"

Miles clenched his jaw. "Give it up, Mr. Lawson! You are clearly desperate!"

"Indeed," the judge agreed. "What possible meaningful objections could the defense have in the face of all this evidence?"

Lawson straightened himself out, fidgeting with his tie in an attempt to look more held-together. "Ahem... I, too, Mr. Edgeworth, have been trying to protect someone's reputation, namely that of my client. However, given all the evidence we have seen, I do not believe it is unreasonable to suggest that Mr. Jack Crandel is... how can I put this delicately... not entirely of sound mind."

Miles tensed up considerably.

"Therefore," Lawson continued, his voice getting more and more confident with each word, "I believe it would be unjust and improper to try him as if he intended to cause harm! Only a mentally unstable man would behave in this way, and the defense contests that the charges being leveled against him are far too harsh!"

So, this was how he wanted to play it. There was no way the man could refute the evidence, so he was running for the insanity plea. Miles could feel bile rising in the back of his throat as his hatred for his opponent gained definition. He had long-since ceased holding personal grudges against defense attorneys who gave him trouble in court, as they were merely fulfilling their role, and many of them truly believed their clients to be innocent. This man, however, was just looking to grasp some measure of a victory. He knew his client was absolutely guilty and a despicable human being to boot, and he was still trying to slither his way out.

"Objection!" Miles practically bellowed, his booming voice making the defense attorney take a step back. "How astoundingly pathetic of you, Mr. Lawson!" he sneered, each syllable dripping with venom. "Reaching for the insanity plea when faced with a loss?"

The judge furrowed his brow. "You wish to contest this, Mr. Edgeworth?"

"I do," Miles stated without hesitation. "Mr. Lawson, I will concede that your client is indeed quite mentally unstable, as no sane human being could do such a heinous thing to another, let alone multiple times. However!" He pounded his desk, resisting the urge to actually lunge at his opponent. "the plea of insanity and reduced sentence is intended for individuals who lack the ability to comprehend the illegality and severity of their actions! Jack Crandel has shown no signs of such a deficiency! He is - beyond a shadow of a doubt - a sadistic sociopath, but his behavior has indicated that he is fully aware of what he has done! If you intend to plead insanity, Mr. Lawson, than I suggest you produce medical records of your own that would prove the defendant's lack of such capacity!"

Silence - thick and oppressive. Miles' voice rang off the wooden floor and high ceiling for several seconds after he had finished speaking, but soon even that died away.

At long, long last, the defense attorney's small voice interrupted the quiet.

"The defense... rests."

Miles was honestly impressed at how well Wright held it together during the walk back to the prosecutor's lobby, but the instant they were inside, the lawyer collapsed onto the bench, a violent shudder ripping through him. Miles carefully shut the door and then approached him, placing a hand on the other man's shoulder. "You did well," Miles assured him. "It's over now."

Wright swallowed thickly. "God, I hope so..." he whispered, unable to manage anything more substantial than that. "Th-thank you... so much, Edgeworth. You... you have n-no idea..."

"That's enough," Miles interjected, moving to sit down beside his friend. "I do not need your thanks. I only care that you are now safe. I only wish I could have accomplished that without revealing those medical documents."

Wright winced. "Nngh... That... I guess it doesn't really matter in the end... E-everyone already knew... what happened... It was just proof... not news..."

Miles lightly squeezed his friend's shoulder. "Yes, well, I still feel remorse for the additional pain you have been made to suffer, but that is done now. All that is left is recovery." He knew it wasn't that simple, of course, that recovery was a trial of its own that could last the rest of this man's life. However, Miles was determined to see him through it, in whatever role he was needed.

Wright took in a breath as if he was about to say something, but at that moment, his cellphone began to play the simplified tones of the "Steel Samurai" theme song. It was a dated reference, but it still brought a slight smile to Miles' lips, which he hid behind a hand.

Wright dug the phone from his pocket and inhaled to try and put some composure back in his voice. "Hello, Trucy."

He had the phone on speaker, so his daughter's voice clearly reached Miles' ears. "Hi, Daddy! Are you done with that super-secret trial thing you and Mr. Edgeworth were working on?"

"Y-yeah, that's done," Wright answered, trying to wipe some of the sweat from his brow. "We just got out a few minutes ago. I'll... I'll be home soon, okay?"

The teenage girl giggled. "Okay, Daddy, but we'll be going with you!"

Blue eyes widened slightly in confusion. "Huh?"

At that moment, the door banged open and Trucy came bounding in with a bright grin on her face. Apollo wasn't far behind, but he was calmer about his entry. "Hellooooo!" Trucy exclaimed, running over to hug her stunned father. Wright put an arm around her, but shot a look at Apollo over her shoulder.

The younger attorney winced. "S-sorry, Mr. Wright. She wanted to surprise you, and you know how she gets. Not like I could've--"

"It's fine," Wright cut in, still working on pulling himself together in front of these two. "it's... nice to see you guys. It's been... a hell of a day... Right, Edgeworth?"

Miles reached up to brush some of his bangs back out of his eyes, acutely aware of how close he and Wright had been caught sitting. "Yes, I... suppose you could put it that way."

Trucy straightened up and stepped back, eying her father up and down. "So, how'd it go? Did you win?"

Wright tensed up, and Miles knew that both Trucy and Apollo noticed. "I... uhm... I-It doesn't matter. It's over now."

Trucy watched him for a time, and then her gaze slowly drifted over to Miles' face. She didn't say anything, but the Chief Prosecutor understood well.

"Yes," he stated with resolution. "It is over, and the best possible outcome was reached."

The girl watched him for a moment longer, and then her face brightened. "Great! Let's get outta' here, then! How about some celebratory noodles!?"

Wright groaned. "Trucy, you know your dad is getting too old to eat that much salt all the time. I'll have a heart attack before I'm forty!"

"Awww, come on," she urged, turning to Apollo. "Back me up, Polly!"

"Erm..." Apollo began to grasp for something to say, clearly displeased about having been pulled into this little argument.

Miles saw fit to save him by clearing his throat. "Ms. Trucy," he addressed the young magician in a deliberate move to appeal to her, "perhaps you would not object to an establishment of my choosing. I will cover the full expense, of course."

Her eyes went wide and then she grinned. "Ooh, so you're buying lunch then, Mr. Edgeworth? That's great! That means I don't have to worry about Daddy's wallet!"

Wright snorted derisively. "As if you ever did before..." he mumbled.

"It's settled!" Trucy made for the door. "C'mon, let's go!"

Wright sat up a little straighter. "You guys... go on ahead to Edgeworth's car. We'll be down in just a few minutes."

"Okay. Come on, Polly." She snatched Apollo's sleeve and began to drag him right out the door.

"H-hey, let go!" the young attorney protested before disappearing from sight. The two left in the room watched them go and then looked to one another, Miles speaking first.

"Is there... something you wished to discuss?" he inquired, seeing no other reason why the others would be sent on ahead.

Wright seemed to deflate. "Y-yeah, sort of..." He swallowed hard, trying to brace himself for something he didn't quite have the necessary confidence to say. "I have no idea how to... properly thank you for what you did for me, but... there's... something I should have told you a long time ago, and I think... I think now you more than deserve to hear the truth."

Miles raised a hand and placed his index finger across Phoenix's lips, silencing whatever he was about to say. Then, he leaned in slowly and pressed his lips to the man's brow in a gentle, tender kiss, but one void of any further expectation. He drew back only slightly, but it was enough to see the look of surprise in those cherished blue eyes.

"I need no confession from you, Phoenix," he said in a low voice that would not carry beyond the two of them. "You have made enough difficult admissions lately. Allow me to simply interpret this one myself, and know that I reciprocate. Also know that I intend to give you the time you need to heal, and I will stay as close or as distant as you need me to be."

In that moment, Miles witnessed some of the light return to Phoenix's eyes, driving back the shadow of pain that had darkened them. "Miles... how is it you always know exactly what to say and when to say it...?"

The prosecutor's signature half-smirk graced his lips. "Hasn't anyone ever told you not to look a gift horse in the mouth?"

The pair soon exited the lobby in order to meet with the rest of their group, fingers firmly entwined.