I've Got My Eye On You (aka: Turnabout Ju-on) ( Implied Phoenix / Edgeworth )
Title: I've Got My Eye On You
Pairing/Characters: Phoenix/Edgeworth, Kristoph Gavin, Trucy Wright, platonic Phoenix/Maya, Pearl Fey, Klavier Gavin, Apollo Justice, Larry Butz
Rating: Mm. PG-13
Warnings: Heavy swearing, un-beta`d, character death, vengeful Edgeworth! Ooo~
Prompt:
I have read stories where Kristoph kills Edgeworth in a perfect murder leaving no clues and a grieving Phoenix Wright behind.
Ju-on:Is the curse of one who dies in the grip of a powerful rage. It gathers and takes effect in the places that person was alive. Those who encounter it die, and a new curse is born.
In other words I want Miles to come back from the grave to get revenge on Gavin. Though there can be other victims if you want anon!
Word Count: 5.727
Author's Notes: While I'm supposed to be finishing another series, I was flyin` through the kink meme, and I was unable to get this idea out of my head. I think it's probably because I watch A Haunting far too much.
Also, I tilted the idea of "Ju-on" a little, and it's somewhat tweaked from the kink meme version. HOPE YOU ENJOY OP, WHOEVER YOU ARE~
x-posted to igiari and narumitsu
Kristoph Gavin believes in reality.
He believes in his well-paying job, in his successful law firm, in the fact that he has a lavish home and power like one couldn’t believe.
He believes in his apprentice, young and overeager to please. He believes in the main facts of reality - that the living are the ones who affect the world, not ‘ghosts’ or ‘spirits.’ To be perfectly honest, Kristoph Gavin finds himself chuckling during a scary story, or whenever someone tries to make him believe in the supernatural.
It was all blatant nonsense. Ghosts didn’t have power over people, he did.
And oh, he had power.
Kristoph Gavin likes to smile when he thinks of how many people are his puppets - but currently, he can’t smile outwardly, so instead he settles with a sad, understanding frown as he attempts to comfort one Phoenix Wright. He puts an arm around the disbarred man, tries not to cringe as he falls apart, sobbing into Kristoph’s coat.
Phoenix keeps moaning the word why.
Kristoph could tell him. He really, really could; but it was either keep quiet, or get the death sentence, and Kristoph likes living, thank you very much.
He could tell Phoenix all sorts of things. How he had shown up at Miles Edgeworth’s hotel room to - oh, how had he put it? - “Thank Prosecutor Edgeworth for helping Phoenix through this time.” There had been wine. There had been poison. Kristoph found it odd that Miles hadn’t noticed that he was wearing gloves the entire time.
There had been that moment where Miles started to get weak when he must have realized what Kristoph had done. That surge of anger, he had come at the blond intent on bringing Kristoph down with him. Sadly enough, the prosecutor wouldn’t have enough time. Too little strength.
Kristoph had laughed when he smashed one of the wine glasses. He was still chuckling as he pulled the broken glass across the prosecutor’s wrists, enjoying the look of complete devastation on Miles’ face during his last moments.
He didn’t leave any traces - it had been ruled as suicide.
Kristoph had gotten away with murder. Again.
So days after the funeral, days after Phoenix had stopped crying - during the day, at least - Kristoph Gavin found himself having to enforce these beliefs in reality, not the supernatural.
His first encounter had happened one late Tuesday afternoon. He had climbed the steps of a working building, going to a place that couldn’t really be considered an office-and somewhere on those steps, Kristoph laughed. Mainly because he couldn’t wait to see that lost expression that has permanently etched itself onto Phoenix’s face, and the pained one that tried to be suppressed by faux happiness when in the company of his daughter.
Arriving at the door of his destination, he took a moment to enjoy the glass. Reaching upwards to touch where ‘Law’ had been scratched off. Ah, yes. The fruits of his labor lay within these walls - a broken man, a broken home-a shattered family. It was so delicious.
Letting himself in, Kristoph arched a sculpted brow at the lack of lights inside the place. Stumbling and silently cursing several toys that belonged to Trucy - he made his way throughout the office-turned-living space by mere memory.
“Phoenix? Come now, don’t spend the waking hours in the dark,” He called, knocking on the doorframe of Phoenix’s bedroom. “I made reservations at a restaurant. We’re supposed to be meeting my apprentice there - you can bring Trucy if you’d like.”
Glancing in the room, he squinted, pushing up his glasses and suppressing a sigh. There, splayed on the bed was a large lump underneath the blankets. It was moving, showing signs of light breathing and Kristoph moved to it, tugging on the edges of the blanket. However, when he pulled the covers back, expecting to see the disheveled figure of Phoenix Wright, it was needless to say that he was quite surprised that nothing was there.
Frowning, he dropped the blanket, unconsciously wiping his hands on his trousers. He had been almost certain that there was someone lying underneath the covers. Brushing it off, Kristoph left the room, caressing the wall for the light switch. Apparently, Phoenix wasn’t home - but it was rather odd that he would leave the front door unlocked while he was occupying the residence.
Whatever. Wright was a complete moron, anyway.
He kicked a few more things around, passively taking out his newfound irate state of mind. Oh well. Though the man was a wreck, he had enough sense in him to keep his cell phone on. Pursing his lips into a thin line, Kristoph gave a small sigh of relief as he finally clicked on the lights, glancing down at his phone and then, in turn, frowning at the lack of service inside the workspace.
It was then that he felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise; his skin crawl, and get the undeniable feeling that someone was watching him. Looking over his shoulder, Kristoph saw nothing but piles of junk that somehow Phoenix passed off as a ‘home.’ Snorting, he reached for the light switch on his way out, letting the door click shut. And pretending not to be interested when the lights flickered back on, then off, after he had left.
Pausing only a moment to look back through the frosted glass, he waved it off, pleased to see that his phone was working as he stepped within the elevator.
*
On December fourteenth, the second elevator in the Los Angeles courthouse was officially and permanently closed off.
The report said due to reoccurring failure.
Phoenix claimed that Miles wouldn’t die unless he brought that damned elevator down with him.
Kristoph tried his best not to laugh at the poor excuse for a man.
*
His second encounter makes him a tad bit warier - but he thinks nothing of it; chalking it up to as someone, somehow, getting into his apartment and moving things around when he’s not home. Kristoph asks Phoenix if he’s bored during the day; he answers no.
Kristoph decides to catch the little fucker in the act.
So he sets up a few cameras throughout his apartment. Secluded, well-hidden, sleek, all of them timed to take a picture every hour on the dot. He arrives home that night, noticing that some things were out of place, and cannot get his hands on those cameras fast enough.
The first camera, placed in the kitchen, shows nothing throughout the day. He snorts, turning the contraption off. Because of the lighting, this crap could probably pass as ‘modern art.’
The second camera shows a little more. It shows the furniture in a different position than when he first left, and what they were right now - thusly and literally catching the furniture in the act. But that still wasn’t helpful.
The third camera, set on the dresser in his bedroom, is proof that someone was in the apartment while Kristoph was at work. Captured at one in the afternoon, a clear silhouette of a person passing in the hallway is displayed on the screen. Kristoph growls, because he doesn’t have a clear identity of the man - and also because he knows he’s going to need to change the locks.
He decides not to worry when the rest of the photos for the next hours are pitch black.
*
The next time he sees the figure, Kristoph spends more and more time out of the house.
As he naturally would - anyone would want to get out and away more often after waking in bed. Waking in a cold sweat for no particular reason, staring up at the ceiling and scowling. How difficult it had been to fall asleep in the first place, and, upon turning to his left, Kristoph is shocked into a frozen state.
There, standing, is the full presence of a shadow figure. Some parts more faded than others, but the more his eyes widened, the more came into focus. What used to be fair hair, fine tailored suit, and a neckpiece that screamed for a time before his own.
Miles Edgeworth was watching him sleep.
Correction.
Kristoph Gavin thought he saw Miles Edgeworth watching him sleep.
Miles Edgeworth was dead. The dead are no longer able to move.
Which was why when Kristoph Gavin blinked, Miles Edgeworth was nowhere to be seen.
*
A Thursday afternoon. Sitting with Phoenix as he goes through scrapbooks, pointing out pictures of Miles, sometimes actually paying attention to the other people in the photographs. Kristoph doesn’t think he’s been this bored ever before in his life. But he keeps going, just because he kind of enjoys the way Phoenix’s breath hitches, and the way his voice cracks whenever there’s a picture that’s particularly affectionate in the eyes of the former defense attorney.
There’s a knock at the door, Phoenix calls for them to just come in - and Kristoph can’t help but be disgusted by his lack of manners.
Of course, he’s even more disgusted by the human being that comes bounding in the office, sobbing and wailing and being a headache in general. Kristoph flinches, suppresses the sudden and demanding need to rip the new man’s face off.
The three of them sit, the new male introduces himself as Larry - calls Phoenix, ‘Nick,’ and proceeds to nitpick at everything in sight.
Apparently, ‘Larry’ hadn’t been in touch for the past several weeks, and just got wind of Miles Edgeworth’s death. Kristoph sits as the third wheel while Phoenix and Larry reminisce over glasses of grape juice. They had clearly been schoolmates, along with Miles Edgeworth, and had been close over time. Which Kristoph finds odd, because in the seven or more years of knowing Phoenix, he had not once heard of the man named Larry Butz.
The creak of floorboards had cut off their conversation of what Larry was currently doing - painting portraits in some amusement park - and led to the three of them staring around the office space; the sound seemingly coming from everywhere. Loud thumps, little quiet creaking and groaning of the floor-as soon as it had started, the sounds disappeared. Phoenix chuckled, saying that he probably should be taking better care of the place.
Then a scream made them all duck, cringe, cover their ears.
It had only happened for a few seconds, and soon they were all able to sit back up straight, passing around an odd look. There was no one else in the office except them. Kristoph has to pinch the inner of his palm to stop from laughing when Phoenix swears he had heard that scream somewhere before. He can’t quite put his finger on it, but dammit, he knows he’s heard that sound.
It’s not until Larry is standing, making his way out of the place with promises to meet up at the Wonder Bar later - he really wants to meet Nick’s daughter, dude - does Phoenix blanch. He stutters, looks at Kristoph and then Larry, breathing out that the scream earlier had been in Miles’ voice.
Kristoph chooses to ignore the irritation swirling in the pit of his stomach.
*
He thinks that he’s still not a believer in the supernatural. He knows he doesn’t believe. It’s just stupid to think that the souls of the past can come back and interact with what was happening in the present - didn’t that interfere with the rest of the World’s beliefs? Heaven? Hell? Those no longer were taken into account?
Despite himself, Kristoph is lighting a white candle in the middle of his apartment.
It’s awkward, that much he can tell. Holding the bundle of wax on a holder, the lights on, standing among his furniture. What should he expect? This was an old wives’ tale, anyway. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he could hear the ramblings of his overly-religious Mother; screaming that he had to say a prayer. That was the only way to banish the dark spirits in an area.
He opens his mouth to do so, but nothing comes out but a choke. In his ear are whispers that are as clear as day and too mucked up to understand. The whispers are saying his name, are laughing, are taunting him, are threatening him. Immediately after they start, the candle goes out, and no matter how many times Kristoph puts a lighter to the wick, it will not light again.
*
Frustration was now running high. Something was in his home, making fun of him, taunting him - and the defense attorney still refused to believe that it was any spirit. Or any nonsense like such as ghosts, for that matter.
That thing was invading his home, his life - and it had already followed him to work, where the spontaneous combustion of a cup of tea had sent Apollo Justice home early.
What was even worse was that every friend that Phoenix has had began to appear in his life, specifically whenever Kristoph was around. This particular time was with Maya Fey and her cousin Pearl, all seated together in the Wright Anything Agency, watching as Trucy performed some tricks.
Out of the blue, Pearl had stood, face as white as snow, facing the room that used to be Phoenix’s private consulting room. She was shaking, eyes wide, but forced herself to breathe. Kristoph thought for a moment that the girl was about to have a seizure, but when he tried to get her at a safe distance away from anything that would hurt her during the medical episode, she screamed, telling everyone to get back and behind the couch.
They had rapidly done so - none of the present had ever seen Pearl in such a frantic state.
She began to speak, her voice growing with each word she let fly. Talking in a loud voice, she asked the air what it was doing there - and it began to dawn on Kristoph that the woman had to see something that they couldn’t.
His mind automatically clicked to Miles Edgeworth.
Suddenly, Maya shot up, screaming for Pearl to get out of the way. She dove over the couch, tackling the smaller girl to the ground. Trucy cries, Phoenix starts to shout as they hear the glass in the middle of the coffee table crack. Lights flicker, and Pearl and Maya poke their heads up, only to start yelling at the thing the rest of the company can’t see.
Everything becomes tranquil for a split second-the company freezes, and Pearl lets out a soft, soft gasp.
“Mister E-!”
There’s a split second, and Pearl begins to choke. They can’t react fast enough, and the girl passes due to asphyxiation. The medical examiner will say that a piece of food clogged her airway, and that’s what caused it.
At home, Kristoph will smirk. “Looks like you missed, Edgeworth.”
A door will slam in response.
*
Trucy is asleep, is unaware of what is going on in the main part of the Wright Anything Agency. She snores quietly as Maya and Phoenix set up - trying to keep their mourning quiet because the little magician had terrible difficulties falling asleep in the first place.
The two adults have an idea of what happened several days ago; and neither of them can believe it.
So Maya sits, Phoenix watches, and the mystic goes to work. Several minutes pass, and soon the woman is shaking, and is thrust backwards, wheezing with eyes open.
“Edgeworth won’t let me channel him,” She rasped, putting a hand to her heart and staring at Phoenix. He asks if this has ever happened-just why the fuck it can’t happen. She blinks, suddenly looking about with small traces of fear. She explains that it’s only happened a few times while she was Master; but from what Maya had gathered, particularly enraged spirits won’t cooperate in channeling.
Phoenix looks crestfallen, but Maya shakes her head, telling him that there’s another - albeit it’s practically primeval - way. Minutes later, they have a pad of paper and pen, and something resembling what Phoenix remembers to be an Ouija Board.
They tense, and Maya places her fingers gingerly on the compass, Phoenix readies for copying down letters.
"Are there any spirits here?"
YES
“What is your name?”
M-I-L-E-S
“Are you angry?”
YES
“Why are you still here?”
The compass stills then, and abruptly, one by one each picture frame in the main room snaps down. Phoenix and Maya exchange looks, but press on.
“Are you unable to ascend?”
NO
“Do you want me to help you ascend, Miles?”
NO
“Why are you angry, Miles?”
G-A-V-I-N
They freeze again, a sickening feeling coiling in both of their stomachs.
“Why are you still here?”
G-A-V-I-N
“Why are you concerned about Gavin?”
G-A-V-I-N
Phoenix stops, wonders if he should ask Maya if the thing’s broken. Apparently she’s more perceptive than he had anticipated, because the mystic shakes her head. Miles was focused on Gavin-whichever one it may be.
“Are you concerned for Klavier or Kristoph Gavin?”
NO
“You’re not concerned?”
NO
“Are you in pain?”
The compass doesn’t move.
Maya shudders, her brows furrowing, she quickly turns to Phoenix, giving him a look that asked if he felt that change. He nods, and starts a new page.
Maya decides to be bold-her intuition becoming a powerful force.
“What is your name?”
P-E-A-R-L
“Pearly! Here, just a second, let me channel-“
The compass moves to the ‘NO’ written clearly on the mat, without being touched.
“Pearly, why don’t you want to be channeled?”
C-A-N-T
“Why not?”
M-I-L
The conversation is cut short by the compass breaking in two, and the lights flickering heavily. The feeling of doom forces itself down on the pair, and both silently agree that it would be perfectly fine if all three of them - Trucy, Maya, and Phoenix - share a bed tonight.
*
Kristoph Gavin wakes one morning to a poking on his leg. It’s sharp, and it hurts. Easily angered, he pulls off the covers to find all the knives he owns in his bed, their tips pressing up against his skin.
He snorts, puts them away.
Merely empty threats - he won’t be scared out of his perfect reality. Not now, not ever.
*
Two weeks pass since the Oujia Board incident.
Phoenix and Trucy move to Kurain - their home is no longer safe. Thankfully, it-the former defense attorney weeps at the idea that the creature settling itself in the office is Miles-hadn’t followed them to the outskirts of town. They’re living peacefully, and it only tickles Trucy pink that she doesn’t have to go to school.
One day, Phoenix is napping in the side room, across the winding way. He’s woken by a jolt, of what, he has no idea. But at his side, the figure of Miles Edgeworth is kneeling, staring - face white as snow, clothing mangled, and horrible gashes in his wrists.
Phoenix is too afraid to blink, too afraid to move. He’s hardly breathing as the figure leans closer, opening his mouth and a jumble of noises pouring out. His mouth quickly snaps shut, and his head turns to the door, where Phoenix’s vision follows. There’s something there that Phoenix can’t see, can’t hear - but obviously there’s something there.
When he looks back, Miles is gone. In the place he knelt, the mat has scorch marks.
*
All the glasses in his home have shattered.
The windows are cracked, the furniture toppled, and all of his possessions must either be broken, laying on the floor, or a combination of the two.
Kristoph Gavin doesn’t think he’s ever been more furious in his life.
In the midst of the rage, he drops his groceries, stomps, and starts to scream. “Get out here and face me, dammit!” Voice unsettling, almost instantaneously the paintings on the walls begin to shake and clatter.
“Are you afraid, Edgeworth?”
The entire room begins to quake.
“Has the Demon Prosecutor become such a coward, even in afterlife?”
The whispering returns, this time accompanied by a shriller, more feminine voice.
“Or are you simply enticing me to kill Phoenix, as well?”
Everything stops, leaving Kristoph heaving in the middle of the main room, looking about wildly. There’s no sound of the outside world, no light is filtering through the window; room temperature dropping steadily, to the point where the defense attorney can see his breath.
“That is what you would like, isn’t it, Edgeworth?”
The question is punctuated by a letter opener, spilled onto the floor from Kristoph’s desk, rushing at the blond. He moves, it misses its original mark - Kristoph’s throat - but gets his collar bone nicely.
The phone doesn’t work to call an ambulance.
Kristoph decides to ignore the laughter and growling he hears when he leaves the apartment, cloth pressing against the wound and rushing to get to the emergency room.
*
Things are steadily worsening. Not only in the actual condition of Kristoph’s home, but in his psyche. Constantly finding yourself being yelled at and tormented by something that defied one’s way of thinking, as well as couldn’t be seen half the time, would do that to a person.
He likes to think that when Miles Edgeworth does have the gall to show himself, that Kristoph fends him off just nicely.
Which he honestly doesn’t.
Since his return from the emergency room, the figure has been getting closer and closer. While, in the beginning it would stay at least a good ten feet away from Kristoph, it now would appear within a three foot vicinity; rupturing the defense attorney’s personal space and, though he won’t admit it, often scaring him shitless.
One night, a plate is sent hurtling towards Kristoph’s skull.
Another evening, Kristoph ‘slipped’ while laying in the bathtub, and was unable to resurface until just before he passed out.
He’s getting sick and tired of these occurrences, and though he’s sticking to his beliefs, only a moron would not take these things as a clear sign that he was being haunted.
The night that Kristoph finally comes to accept the fact that he’s going to need the aide of someone in removing Miles Edgeworth from his home, and, inadvertently preventing his own death - Kristoph smells gas, and just barely makes it to the stove to turn off the burner and to the window to let out the fumes.
He can’t have candles in the house anymore. They’re not only a waste of his money-as they won’t light-but they have become a fire hazard more than once. Kristoph finds it annoying, particularly because he had enjoyed, at some point, spending some evenings reading by candlelight. Sadly, the candles are not the only problem in trying to reenact his peaceful evenings - all of his books have been torn to pieces.
*
“M-Mister Gavin?”
Kristoph looks up from his place behind his desk, a pleasant smile touching his features. “Yes, what is it, Apollo?”
He looked nervous, uncomfortable. “Didn’t you call me?”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Oh. S-sorry, sir.”
Apollo returns to his work, and Kristoph has to shake his head, touch his collarbone, and then return to the papers before him.
Work was fine.
Work was his sanctuary.
“Yes, sir?”
Kristoph looks up to see Apollo waiting in the doorway. The defense attorney’s brow furrows. “I didn’t call you, Justice.”
“Oh. Sorry, sir.”
It keeps going like this for the next ten minutes, until finally Kristoph hears a howl from the other room. Standing, his curiosity is flaring, and he goes to see what in the world could pull that kind of sound from Apollo. He finds the boy holding his ears, doubled over on the desk. Apparently someone had screamed at the top of their lungs directly into his eardrums; though there was no one but the pair in the office.
A white candle doesn’t light in the Gavin and Co. Law Offices, either.
*
Phoenix and Trucy are planning to stay in Kurain - it’s proving to be more comfortable, quieter than what Los Angeles had been. They’ve situated themselves, and with a heavy smile, Maya tells Trucy that she’d like it if the little magician stayed in Pearl’s old room. It tears at Maya’s heart to see it empty.
They get into a habit - Phoenix and Maya - sitting on one of the rooftops during the sunset. They’re both feeling alone, abandoned. Phoenix has lost the one thing he’s sought after his entire life, while Maya has lost her only family. They find comfort in talking, in being there for one another.
Trucy has started to call Maya ‘Mommy.’ The first time it happens, Maya gets watery-eyed, and Phoenix is starting to see the three of them as a family.
Over the next few days, Maya really does start to think of herself of Trucy’s Mother. So she checks up on the magician regularly, half-afraid that something might happen-from what Phoenix had said, there may be something that had followed the three back to Kurain.
It nearly makes her heart stop when she sees Trucy conversing and playing with Pearl.
She’s sitting in the middle of her room, passing Pearl’s old ball back and forth with the spirit, just a-chattering away. It’s not until the spirit looks and notices Maya’s presence, does it startle and disappear.
When Maya asks the little magician what was happening, she merely shrugged, saying that Pearl wanted to talk.
They decide not to tell Phoenix.
*
Victim: Larry Butz, age 3O
Date of Death: February 1st
Time of Death: Estimated 22:40
Cause: Heart attack, combined with injuries from motorcycle crash
Even with the autopsy report in his hand, and after visiting the funeral, Phoenix Wright can still not believe that Larry is dead.
Had it not been for the feeling of someone constantly watching him, he would have felt completely alone.
*
Several weeks after Larry’s death, Maya, Trucy, and Phoenix return to Los Angeles. In Larry’s apartment, the mystic is sorry to say that she cannot channel Larry - but they set up the Ouija Board for just one more try.
Phoenix, weary of what could happen, asks Trucy to wait outside. She declines, hugs him, and says that she’s not ever going to let her Daddy out of her sight.
Clearing her throat, Maya puts her hands on the compass, allows the little magician to follow suit.
“Are there any spirits lingering here?”
YES
“What is your name?”
Trucy marveled, though with a small tinge of fear, as the compass glided over the mat, picking out letters one by one.
L-A-R-R-Y
“Larry, was your death accidental?”
The compass didn’t move for a moment, and Maya was about to ask again, when it started up once more.
W-H-A-T
Phoenix sighs, almost torn between saying something that he knows will make him long for his old friend, and keeping quiet.
“Did someone kill you?”
YES
Trucy is biting her lip, shaking-and they must pause so that she can catch her breath.
“Who murdered you?”
E-D-G-E-Y
“How?”
S-C-A-R-E-D-M-E-C-A-U-S-E-D-A-T-T-A-C-K
“How did he scare you, Larry?”
*
Kristoph should have seen it coming.
The damned corpse had infiltrated everywhere else - his home, his work, even Phoenix’s home, and had killed a handful of people that the defense attorney assumed Miles had enjoyed during his lifetime. From pictures, he had seen Miles being a father figure to the little mystic; though he seemed rather irate with the Larry fellow.
He had promised to visit Klavier at one of his concerts.
He had said something to Miles Edgeworth before leaving.
While driving down a rather residential street, only four blocks from where the concert was being held, Kristoph Gavin veered off to the left, causing a near head-on collision with the oncoming traffic. He hadn’t died on impact. Instead, he somehow pried himself out of the fiery, destroyed mass of metal, laughing and laughing-in hysterics about how a dead man appeared on the road, about how that dead man didn’t kill him yet.
The paramedics heard about Kristoph’s claims - how Miles Edgeworth missed. Again. At the time they thought nothing of it, but alerted the psych ward when Kristoph didn’t stop going on about him. How he appeared in the road, staring him down, challenging Kristoph’s animal instincts; and though the defense attorney had succumbed to his instincts, he was still living.
He was admitted to the hospital with several broken ribs, arms, and one shattered shinbone. Some slight head trauma, and broken glass in his left eye, as well as second-degree burns on his neck and parts of his face.
Needless to say, Kristoph Gavin was not going anywhere for a while.
Which, when he thought about it afterward, probably made it all the easier for Miles Edgeworth.
The spirit would visit him each night, standing next to the bed and just staring. The way that his appearance had become steadily more disheveled, Kristoph easily came to the conclusion that he was conjuring something up; but it still bothered him none. This was a hospital, in which doctors were waiting on him hand and foot. Though, the spirit had found ways to thwart several nurses’ attempts at attending to the defense attorney’s health.
Regularly, whenever the nurses would change the gauzes, they would find long gashes down their arms. The lights would black out on that level for several minutes at a time; and it wasn’t just Kristoph who was witnessing Miles’ new settlement within the hospital. There were reports of seeing a man walking briskly up and down the hallways - appearing as if he had somewhere to be, and was about to be late. Particularly on the level that a certain Phoenix Wright had been admitted to after falling into Eagle River. Whenever someone would try to converse, stop, or merely interact with the man, he would stop ask for the ICU level, then dissipate with another few steps.
After a handful of days, Kristoph, among other people, would start to notice that the spirit was becoming increasingly angered. It was coming to a head, until one particular night.
Miles had appeared at the defense attorney’s bedside, like any other night, this time at a different distance. Kristoph would snort, roll his eyes - because what in the world could something that was as mythical as unicorns do to the living?
Eyes widened when something did begin to happen.
The spirit had reached over, making a motion that looked like he was touching the IV bag. Almost instantly, the drip increased to a hazardous point, and he looked back at Kristoph, watching as the defense attorney slowly OD’d on the drug.
The attending will say that they never have seen an angrier looking corpse.
*
Phoenix and Trucy move back to their office-home in Los Angeles. Things have stopped happening in Kurain, and for some reason, Phoenix no longer feels like he’s being constantly observed. And sure enough, when they return to their quaint little home, everything is calm, tranquil. It’s surreal, in comparison to the past trauma they have experienced.
Trucy still can’t quite get over the sight of Pearl being, for lack of a better term, strangled by an unseen force. Phoenix will share his bed with his daughter for the next several weeks; and she will be at his side constantly, building an even stronger bond, if it were possible.
Though things have calmed down exceptionally, Phoenix cannot help but wonder what happened to Miles’ ghost. Why he was appearing as if he were being chased in Kurain, and why he would harm Pearl - and Larry, because, despite his odd lifestyle, Larry Butz was incredibly aware of his health. There couldn’t be a natural cause for his heart attack.
Without hesitation, he’s asked Maya to channel Miles - but there is no such luck. Like the first time they attempted, the Master is shot backwards and into a state of shock. Phoenix is forced to wonder why Miles’ soul is still so tortured.
After all, Kristoph Gavin was deceased - that was what he was after, wasn’t it?
But he doesn’t understand, and still doesn’t when they fail at contacting the dead prosecutor through the Ouija Board, as well. They get Pearl, they get Larry, they even ask those two about Miles; but the conversation always ends then, or Maya and Phoenix won’t get any answers until they ask a new question.
He’s often sitting on the couch, palming the stubble on his chin and wondering. He makes for a good target, in hindsight, especially when he begins to daze in and out of consciousness.
So Phoenix is respectably startled when there’s a cold rush that sends the back of his neck up, stiffening the little hairs that rest there. He jolts awake again, eyes settling on the clearest figure of Miles Phoenix has seen since he was alive.
And Miles just stands.
And stands.
And stands.
Until Phoenix breathes, choking out something that resembles the deceased’s name; noticing the mangled clothing and the slit wrists, the foreboding atmosphere that lingers around the figure.
Miles leans in, letting noises fall from his lips again. They sound angry and pleasant all at the same time, and the closer Miles gets, the more Phoenix’s chest starts to hurt. Badly.
The defense attorney barely gets out that he kind of wishes that Miles would go to Heaven already, because it kills Phoenix to see-to know-that the prosecutor is in pain, is still so agonizingly stuck in this world that he doesn’t belong in.
It was then that, in his peripheral vision, does he see another figure, just as clear, standing a few feet and to the side of Miles and Phoenix. Sapphire eyes widen, and it comes in clear that it’s Kristoph Gavin - and he’s looking positively evil.
Miles’ head whips around, and something happens, because the prosecutor lunges at Kristoph, and both figures disappear.
Two days later, Trucy and Phoenix move to Kurain.
Though he is guilt-wracked, he cannot help but feel touched.
Pairing/Characters: Phoenix/Edgeworth, Kristoph Gavin, Trucy Wright, platonic Phoenix/Maya, Pearl Fey, Klavier Gavin, Apollo Justice, Larry Butz
Rating: Mm. PG-13
Warnings: Heavy swearing, un-beta`d, character death, vengeful Edgeworth! Ooo~
Prompt:
I have read stories where Kristoph kills Edgeworth in a perfect murder leaving no clues and a grieving Phoenix Wright behind.
Ju-on:Is the curse of one who dies in the grip of a powerful rage. It gathers and takes effect in the places that person was alive. Those who encounter it die, and a new curse is born.
In other words I want Miles to come back from the grave to get revenge on Gavin. Though there can be other victims if you want anon!
Word Count: 5.727
Author's Notes: While I'm supposed to be finishing another series, I was flyin` through the kink meme, and I was unable to get this idea out of my head. I think it's probably because I watch A Haunting far too much.
Also, I tilted the idea of "Ju-on" a little, and it's somewhat tweaked from the kink meme version. HOPE YOU ENJOY OP, WHOEVER YOU ARE~
x-posted to igiari and narumitsu
Kristoph Gavin believes in reality.
He believes in his well-paying job, in his successful law firm, in the fact that he has a lavish home and power like one couldn’t believe.
He believes in his apprentice, young and overeager to please. He believes in the main facts of reality - that the living are the ones who affect the world, not ‘ghosts’ or ‘spirits.’ To be perfectly honest, Kristoph Gavin finds himself chuckling during a scary story, or whenever someone tries to make him believe in the supernatural.
It was all blatant nonsense. Ghosts didn’t have power over people, he did.
And oh, he had power.
Kristoph Gavin likes to smile when he thinks of how many people are his puppets - but currently, he can’t smile outwardly, so instead he settles with a sad, understanding frown as he attempts to comfort one Phoenix Wright. He puts an arm around the disbarred man, tries not to cringe as he falls apart, sobbing into Kristoph’s coat.
Phoenix keeps moaning the word why.
Kristoph could tell him. He really, really could; but it was either keep quiet, or get the death sentence, and Kristoph likes living, thank you very much.
He could tell Phoenix all sorts of things. How he had shown up at Miles Edgeworth’s hotel room to - oh, how had he put it? - “Thank Prosecutor Edgeworth for helping Phoenix through this time.” There had been wine. There had been poison. Kristoph found it odd that Miles hadn’t noticed that he was wearing gloves the entire time.
There had been that moment where Miles started to get weak when he must have realized what Kristoph had done. That surge of anger, he had come at the blond intent on bringing Kristoph down with him. Sadly enough, the prosecutor wouldn’t have enough time. Too little strength.
Kristoph had laughed when he smashed one of the wine glasses. He was still chuckling as he pulled the broken glass across the prosecutor’s wrists, enjoying the look of complete devastation on Miles’ face during his last moments.
He didn’t leave any traces - it had been ruled as suicide.
Kristoph had gotten away with murder. Again.
So days after the funeral, days after Phoenix had stopped crying - during the day, at least - Kristoph Gavin found himself having to enforce these beliefs in reality, not the supernatural.
His first encounter had happened one late Tuesday afternoon. He had climbed the steps of a working building, going to a place that couldn’t really be considered an office-and somewhere on those steps, Kristoph laughed. Mainly because he couldn’t wait to see that lost expression that has permanently etched itself onto Phoenix’s face, and the pained one that tried to be suppressed by faux happiness when in the company of his daughter.
Arriving at the door of his destination, he took a moment to enjoy the glass. Reaching upwards to touch where ‘Law’ had been scratched off. Ah, yes. The fruits of his labor lay within these walls - a broken man, a broken home-a shattered family. It was so delicious.
Letting himself in, Kristoph arched a sculpted brow at the lack of lights inside the place. Stumbling and silently cursing several toys that belonged to Trucy - he made his way throughout the office-turned-living space by mere memory.
“Phoenix? Come now, don’t spend the waking hours in the dark,” He called, knocking on the doorframe of Phoenix’s bedroom. “I made reservations at a restaurant. We’re supposed to be meeting my apprentice there - you can bring Trucy if you’d like.”
Glancing in the room, he squinted, pushing up his glasses and suppressing a sigh. There, splayed on the bed was a large lump underneath the blankets. It was moving, showing signs of light breathing and Kristoph moved to it, tugging on the edges of the blanket. However, when he pulled the covers back, expecting to see the disheveled figure of Phoenix Wright, it was needless to say that he was quite surprised that nothing was there.
Frowning, he dropped the blanket, unconsciously wiping his hands on his trousers. He had been almost certain that there was someone lying underneath the covers. Brushing it off, Kristoph left the room, caressing the wall for the light switch. Apparently, Phoenix wasn’t home - but it was rather odd that he would leave the front door unlocked while he was occupying the residence.
Whatever. Wright was a complete moron, anyway.
He kicked a few more things around, passively taking out his newfound irate state of mind. Oh well. Though the man was a wreck, he had enough sense in him to keep his cell phone on. Pursing his lips into a thin line, Kristoph gave a small sigh of relief as he finally clicked on the lights, glancing down at his phone and then, in turn, frowning at the lack of service inside the workspace.
It was then that he felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise; his skin crawl, and get the undeniable feeling that someone was watching him. Looking over his shoulder, Kristoph saw nothing but piles of junk that somehow Phoenix passed off as a ‘home.’ Snorting, he reached for the light switch on his way out, letting the door click shut. And pretending not to be interested when the lights flickered back on, then off, after he had left.
Pausing only a moment to look back through the frosted glass, he waved it off, pleased to see that his phone was working as he stepped within the elevator.
*
On December fourteenth, the second elevator in the Los Angeles courthouse was officially and permanently closed off.
The report said due to reoccurring failure.
Phoenix claimed that Miles wouldn’t die unless he brought that damned elevator down with him.
Kristoph tried his best not to laugh at the poor excuse for a man.
*
His second encounter makes him a tad bit warier - but he thinks nothing of it; chalking it up to as someone, somehow, getting into his apartment and moving things around when he’s not home. Kristoph asks Phoenix if he’s bored during the day; he answers no.
Kristoph decides to catch the little fucker in the act.
So he sets up a few cameras throughout his apartment. Secluded, well-hidden, sleek, all of them timed to take a picture every hour on the dot. He arrives home that night, noticing that some things were out of place, and cannot get his hands on those cameras fast enough.
The first camera, placed in the kitchen, shows nothing throughout the day. He snorts, turning the contraption off. Because of the lighting, this crap could probably pass as ‘modern art.’
The second camera shows a little more. It shows the furniture in a different position than when he first left, and what they were right now - thusly and literally catching the furniture in the act. But that still wasn’t helpful.
The third camera, set on the dresser in his bedroom, is proof that someone was in the apartment while Kristoph was at work. Captured at one in the afternoon, a clear silhouette of a person passing in the hallway is displayed on the screen. Kristoph growls, because he doesn’t have a clear identity of the man - and also because he knows he’s going to need to change the locks.
He decides not to worry when the rest of the photos for the next hours are pitch black.
*
The next time he sees the figure, Kristoph spends more and more time out of the house.
As he naturally would - anyone would want to get out and away more often after waking in bed. Waking in a cold sweat for no particular reason, staring up at the ceiling and scowling. How difficult it had been to fall asleep in the first place, and, upon turning to his left, Kristoph is shocked into a frozen state.
There, standing, is the full presence of a shadow figure. Some parts more faded than others, but the more his eyes widened, the more came into focus. What used to be fair hair, fine tailored suit, and a neckpiece that screamed for a time before his own.
Miles Edgeworth was watching him sleep.
Correction.
Kristoph Gavin thought he saw Miles Edgeworth watching him sleep.
Miles Edgeworth was dead. The dead are no longer able to move.
Which was why when Kristoph Gavin blinked, Miles Edgeworth was nowhere to be seen.
*
A Thursday afternoon. Sitting with Phoenix as he goes through scrapbooks, pointing out pictures of Miles, sometimes actually paying attention to the other people in the photographs. Kristoph doesn’t think he’s been this bored ever before in his life. But he keeps going, just because he kind of enjoys the way Phoenix’s breath hitches, and the way his voice cracks whenever there’s a picture that’s particularly affectionate in the eyes of the former defense attorney.
There’s a knock at the door, Phoenix calls for them to just come in - and Kristoph can’t help but be disgusted by his lack of manners.
Of course, he’s even more disgusted by the human being that comes bounding in the office, sobbing and wailing and being a headache in general. Kristoph flinches, suppresses the sudden and demanding need to rip the new man’s face off.
The three of them sit, the new male introduces himself as Larry - calls Phoenix, ‘Nick,’ and proceeds to nitpick at everything in sight.
Apparently, ‘Larry’ hadn’t been in touch for the past several weeks, and just got wind of Miles Edgeworth’s death. Kristoph sits as the third wheel while Phoenix and Larry reminisce over glasses of grape juice. They had clearly been schoolmates, along with Miles Edgeworth, and had been close over time. Which Kristoph finds odd, because in the seven or more years of knowing Phoenix, he had not once heard of the man named Larry Butz.
The creak of floorboards had cut off their conversation of what Larry was currently doing - painting portraits in some amusement park - and led to the three of them staring around the office space; the sound seemingly coming from everywhere. Loud thumps, little quiet creaking and groaning of the floor-as soon as it had started, the sounds disappeared. Phoenix chuckled, saying that he probably should be taking better care of the place.
Then a scream made them all duck, cringe, cover their ears.
It had only happened for a few seconds, and soon they were all able to sit back up straight, passing around an odd look. There was no one else in the office except them. Kristoph has to pinch the inner of his palm to stop from laughing when Phoenix swears he had heard that scream somewhere before. He can’t quite put his finger on it, but dammit, he knows he’s heard that sound.
It’s not until Larry is standing, making his way out of the place with promises to meet up at the Wonder Bar later - he really wants to meet Nick’s daughter, dude - does Phoenix blanch. He stutters, looks at Kristoph and then Larry, breathing out that the scream earlier had been in Miles’ voice.
Kristoph chooses to ignore the irritation swirling in the pit of his stomach.
*
He thinks that he’s still not a believer in the supernatural. He knows he doesn’t believe. It’s just stupid to think that the souls of the past can come back and interact with what was happening in the present - didn’t that interfere with the rest of the World’s beliefs? Heaven? Hell? Those no longer were taken into account?
Despite himself, Kristoph is lighting a white candle in the middle of his apartment.
It’s awkward, that much he can tell. Holding the bundle of wax on a holder, the lights on, standing among his furniture. What should he expect? This was an old wives’ tale, anyway. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he could hear the ramblings of his overly-religious Mother; screaming that he had to say a prayer. That was the only way to banish the dark spirits in an area.
He opens his mouth to do so, but nothing comes out but a choke. In his ear are whispers that are as clear as day and too mucked up to understand. The whispers are saying his name, are laughing, are taunting him, are threatening him. Immediately after they start, the candle goes out, and no matter how many times Kristoph puts a lighter to the wick, it will not light again.
*
Frustration was now running high. Something was in his home, making fun of him, taunting him - and the defense attorney still refused to believe that it was any spirit. Or any nonsense like such as ghosts, for that matter.
That thing was invading his home, his life - and it had already followed him to work, where the spontaneous combustion of a cup of tea had sent Apollo Justice home early.
What was even worse was that every friend that Phoenix has had began to appear in his life, specifically whenever Kristoph was around. This particular time was with Maya Fey and her cousin Pearl, all seated together in the Wright Anything Agency, watching as Trucy performed some tricks.
Out of the blue, Pearl had stood, face as white as snow, facing the room that used to be Phoenix’s private consulting room. She was shaking, eyes wide, but forced herself to breathe. Kristoph thought for a moment that the girl was about to have a seizure, but when he tried to get her at a safe distance away from anything that would hurt her during the medical episode, she screamed, telling everyone to get back and behind the couch.
They had rapidly done so - none of the present had ever seen Pearl in such a frantic state.
She began to speak, her voice growing with each word she let fly. Talking in a loud voice, she asked the air what it was doing there - and it began to dawn on Kristoph that the woman had to see something that they couldn’t.
His mind automatically clicked to Miles Edgeworth.
Suddenly, Maya shot up, screaming for Pearl to get out of the way. She dove over the couch, tackling the smaller girl to the ground. Trucy cries, Phoenix starts to shout as they hear the glass in the middle of the coffee table crack. Lights flicker, and Pearl and Maya poke their heads up, only to start yelling at the thing the rest of the company can’t see.
Everything becomes tranquil for a split second-the company freezes, and Pearl lets out a soft, soft gasp.
“Mister E-!”
There’s a split second, and Pearl begins to choke. They can’t react fast enough, and the girl passes due to asphyxiation. The medical examiner will say that a piece of food clogged her airway, and that’s what caused it.
At home, Kristoph will smirk. “Looks like you missed, Edgeworth.”
A door will slam in response.
*
Trucy is asleep, is unaware of what is going on in the main part of the Wright Anything Agency. She snores quietly as Maya and Phoenix set up - trying to keep their mourning quiet because the little magician had terrible difficulties falling asleep in the first place.
The two adults have an idea of what happened several days ago; and neither of them can believe it.
So Maya sits, Phoenix watches, and the mystic goes to work. Several minutes pass, and soon the woman is shaking, and is thrust backwards, wheezing with eyes open.
“Edgeworth won’t let me channel him,” She rasped, putting a hand to her heart and staring at Phoenix. He asks if this has ever happened-just why the fuck it can’t happen. She blinks, suddenly looking about with small traces of fear. She explains that it’s only happened a few times while she was Master; but from what Maya had gathered, particularly enraged spirits won’t cooperate in channeling.
Phoenix looks crestfallen, but Maya shakes her head, telling him that there’s another - albeit it’s practically primeval - way. Minutes later, they have a pad of paper and pen, and something resembling what Phoenix remembers to be an Ouija Board.
They tense, and Maya places her fingers gingerly on the compass, Phoenix readies for copying down letters.
"Are there any spirits here?"
YES
“What is your name?”
M-I-L-E-S
“Are you angry?”
YES
“Why are you still here?”
The compass stills then, and abruptly, one by one each picture frame in the main room snaps down. Phoenix and Maya exchange looks, but press on.
“Are you unable to ascend?”
NO
“Do you want me to help you ascend, Miles?”
NO
“Why are you angry, Miles?”
G-A-V-I-N
They freeze again, a sickening feeling coiling in both of their stomachs.
“Why are you still here?”
G-A-V-I-N
“Why are you concerned about Gavin?”
G-A-V-I-N
Phoenix stops, wonders if he should ask Maya if the thing’s broken. Apparently she’s more perceptive than he had anticipated, because the mystic shakes her head. Miles was focused on Gavin-whichever one it may be.
“Are you concerned for Klavier or Kristoph Gavin?”
NO
“You’re not concerned?”
NO
“Are you in pain?”
The compass doesn’t move.
Maya shudders, her brows furrowing, she quickly turns to Phoenix, giving him a look that asked if he felt that change. He nods, and starts a new page.
Maya decides to be bold-her intuition becoming a powerful force.
“What is your name?”
P-E-A-R-L
“Pearly! Here, just a second, let me channel-“
The compass moves to the ‘NO’ written clearly on the mat, without being touched.
“Pearly, why don’t you want to be channeled?”
C-A-N-T
“Why not?”
M-I-L
The conversation is cut short by the compass breaking in two, and the lights flickering heavily. The feeling of doom forces itself down on the pair, and both silently agree that it would be perfectly fine if all three of them - Trucy, Maya, and Phoenix - share a bed tonight.
*
Kristoph Gavin wakes one morning to a poking on his leg. It’s sharp, and it hurts. Easily angered, he pulls off the covers to find all the knives he owns in his bed, their tips pressing up against his skin.
He snorts, puts them away.
Merely empty threats - he won’t be scared out of his perfect reality. Not now, not ever.
*
Two weeks pass since the Oujia Board incident.
Phoenix and Trucy move to Kurain - their home is no longer safe. Thankfully, it-the former defense attorney weeps at the idea that the creature settling itself in the office is Miles-hadn’t followed them to the outskirts of town. They’re living peacefully, and it only tickles Trucy pink that she doesn’t have to go to school.
One day, Phoenix is napping in the side room, across the winding way. He’s woken by a jolt, of what, he has no idea. But at his side, the figure of Miles Edgeworth is kneeling, staring - face white as snow, clothing mangled, and horrible gashes in his wrists.
Phoenix is too afraid to blink, too afraid to move. He’s hardly breathing as the figure leans closer, opening his mouth and a jumble of noises pouring out. His mouth quickly snaps shut, and his head turns to the door, where Phoenix’s vision follows. There’s something there that Phoenix can’t see, can’t hear - but obviously there’s something there.
When he looks back, Miles is gone. In the place he knelt, the mat has scorch marks.
*
All the glasses in his home have shattered.
The windows are cracked, the furniture toppled, and all of his possessions must either be broken, laying on the floor, or a combination of the two.
Kristoph Gavin doesn’t think he’s ever been more furious in his life.
In the midst of the rage, he drops his groceries, stomps, and starts to scream. “Get out here and face me, dammit!” Voice unsettling, almost instantaneously the paintings on the walls begin to shake and clatter.
“Are you afraid, Edgeworth?”
The entire room begins to quake.
“Has the Demon Prosecutor become such a coward, even in afterlife?”
The whispering returns, this time accompanied by a shriller, more feminine voice.
“Or are you simply enticing me to kill Phoenix, as well?”
Everything stops, leaving Kristoph heaving in the middle of the main room, looking about wildly. There’s no sound of the outside world, no light is filtering through the window; room temperature dropping steadily, to the point where the defense attorney can see his breath.
“That is what you would like, isn’t it, Edgeworth?”
The question is punctuated by a letter opener, spilled onto the floor from Kristoph’s desk, rushing at the blond. He moves, it misses its original mark - Kristoph’s throat - but gets his collar bone nicely.
The phone doesn’t work to call an ambulance.
Kristoph decides to ignore the laughter and growling he hears when he leaves the apartment, cloth pressing against the wound and rushing to get to the emergency room.
*
Things are steadily worsening. Not only in the actual condition of Kristoph’s home, but in his psyche. Constantly finding yourself being yelled at and tormented by something that defied one’s way of thinking, as well as couldn’t be seen half the time, would do that to a person.
He likes to think that when Miles Edgeworth does have the gall to show himself, that Kristoph fends him off just nicely.
Which he honestly doesn’t.
Since his return from the emergency room, the figure has been getting closer and closer. While, in the beginning it would stay at least a good ten feet away from Kristoph, it now would appear within a three foot vicinity; rupturing the defense attorney’s personal space and, though he won’t admit it, often scaring him shitless.
One night, a plate is sent hurtling towards Kristoph’s skull.
Another evening, Kristoph ‘slipped’ while laying in the bathtub, and was unable to resurface until just before he passed out.
He’s getting sick and tired of these occurrences, and though he’s sticking to his beliefs, only a moron would not take these things as a clear sign that he was being haunted.
The night that Kristoph finally comes to accept the fact that he’s going to need the aide of someone in removing Miles Edgeworth from his home, and, inadvertently preventing his own death - Kristoph smells gas, and just barely makes it to the stove to turn off the burner and to the window to let out the fumes.
He can’t have candles in the house anymore. They’re not only a waste of his money-as they won’t light-but they have become a fire hazard more than once. Kristoph finds it annoying, particularly because he had enjoyed, at some point, spending some evenings reading by candlelight. Sadly, the candles are not the only problem in trying to reenact his peaceful evenings - all of his books have been torn to pieces.
*
“M-Mister Gavin?”
Kristoph looks up from his place behind his desk, a pleasant smile touching his features. “Yes, what is it, Apollo?”
He looked nervous, uncomfortable. “Didn’t you call me?”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Oh. S-sorry, sir.”
Apollo returns to his work, and Kristoph has to shake his head, touch his collarbone, and then return to the papers before him.
Work was fine.
Work was his sanctuary.
“Yes, sir?”
Kristoph looks up to see Apollo waiting in the doorway. The defense attorney’s brow furrows. “I didn’t call you, Justice.”
“Oh. Sorry, sir.”
It keeps going like this for the next ten minutes, until finally Kristoph hears a howl from the other room. Standing, his curiosity is flaring, and he goes to see what in the world could pull that kind of sound from Apollo. He finds the boy holding his ears, doubled over on the desk. Apparently someone had screamed at the top of their lungs directly into his eardrums; though there was no one but the pair in the office.
A white candle doesn’t light in the Gavin and Co. Law Offices, either.
*
Phoenix and Trucy are planning to stay in Kurain - it’s proving to be more comfortable, quieter than what Los Angeles had been. They’ve situated themselves, and with a heavy smile, Maya tells Trucy that she’d like it if the little magician stayed in Pearl’s old room. It tears at Maya’s heart to see it empty.
They get into a habit - Phoenix and Maya - sitting on one of the rooftops during the sunset. They’re both feeling alone, abandoned. Phoenix has lost the one thing he’s sought after his entire life, while Maya has lost her only family. They find comfort in talking, in being there for one another.
Trucy has started to call Maya ‘Mommy.’ The first time it happens, Maya gets watery-eyed, and Phoenix is starting to see the three of them as a family.
Over the next few days, Maya really does start to think of herself of Trucy’s Mother. So she checks up on the magician regularly, half-afraid that something might happen-from what Phoenix had said, there may be something that had followed the three back to Kurain.
It nearly makes her heart stop when she sees Trucy conversing and playing with Pearl.
She’s sitting in the middle of her room, passing Pearl’s old ball back and forth with the spirit, just a-chattering away. It’s not until the spirit looks and notices Maya’s presence, does it startle and disappear.
When Maya asks the little magician what was happening, she merely shrugged, saying that Pearl wanted to talk.
They decide not to tell Phoenix.
*
Victim: Larry Butz, age 3O
Date of Death: February 1st
Time of Death: Estimated 22:40
Cause: Heart attack, combined with injuries from motorcycle crash
Even with the autopsy report in his hand, and after visiting the funeral, Phoenix Wright can still not believe that Larry is dead.
Had it not been for the feeling of someone constantly watching him, he would have felt completely alone.
*
Several weeks after Larry’s death, Maya, Trucy, and Phoenix return to Los Angeles. In Larry’s apartment, the mystic is sorry to say that she cannot channel Larry - but they set up the Ouija Board for just one more try.
Phoenix, weary of what could happen, asks Trucy to wait outside. She declines, hugs him, and says that she’s not ever going to let her Daddy out of her sight.
Clearing her throat, Maya puts her hands on the compass, allows the little magician to follow suit.
“Are there any spirits lingering here?”
YES
“What is your name?”
Trucy marveled, though with a small tinge of fear, as the compass glided over the mat, picking out letters one by one.
L-A-R-R-Y
“Larry, was your death accidental?”
The compass didn’t move for a moment, and Maya was about to ask again, when it started up once more.
W-H-A-T
Phoenix sighs, almost torn between saying something that he knows will make him long for his old friend, and keeping quiet.
“Did someone kill you?”
YES
Trucy is biting her lip, shaking-and they must pause so that she can catch her breath.
“Who murdered you?”
E-D-G-E-Y
“How?”
S-C-A-R-E-D-M-E-C-A-U-S-E-D-A-T-T-A-C-K
“How did he scare you, Larry?”
*
Kristoph should have seen it coming.
The damned corpse had infiltrated everywhere else - his home, his work, even Phoenix’s home, and had killed a handful of people that the defense attorney assumed Miles had enjoyed during his lifetime. From pictures, he had seen Miles being a father figure to the little mystic; though he seemed rather irate with the Larry fellow.
He had promised to visit Klavier at one of his concerts.
He had said something to Miles Edgeworth before leaving.
While driving down a rather residential street, only four blocks from where the concert was being held, Kristoph Gavin veered off to the left, causing a near head-on collision with the oncoming traffic. He hadn’t died on impact. Instead, he somehow pried himself out of the fiery, destroyed mass of metal, laughing and laughing-in hysterics about how a dead man appeared on the road, about how that dead man didn’t kill him yet.
The paramedics heard about Kristoph’s claims - how Miles Edgeworth missed. Again. At the time they thought nothing of it, but alerted the psych ward when Kristoph didn’t stop going on about him. How he appeared in the road, staring him down, challenging Kristoph’s animal instincts; and though the defense attorney had succumbed to his instincts, he was still living.
He was admitted to the hospital with several broken ribs, arms, and one shattered shinbone. Some slight head trauma, and broken glass in his left eye, as well as second-degree burns on his neck and parts of his face.
Needless to say, Kristoph Gavin was not going anywhere for a while.
Which, when he thought about it afterward, probably made it all the easier for Miles Edgeworth.
The spirit would visit him each night, standing next to the bed and just staring. The way that his appearance had become steadily more disheveled, Kristoph easily came to the conclusion that he was conjuring something up; but it still bothered him none. This was a hospital, in which doctors were waiting on him hand and foot. Though, the spirit had found ways to thwart several nurses’ attempts at attending to the defense attorney’s health.
Regularly, whenever the nurses would change the gauzes, they would find long gashes down their arms. The lights would black out on that level for several minutes at a time; and it wasn’t just Kristoph who was witnessing Miles’ new settlement within the hospital. There were reports of seeing a man walking briskly up and down the hallways - appearing as if he had somewhere to be, and was about to be late. Particularly on the level that a certain Phoenix Wright had been admitted to after falling into Eagle River. Whenever someone would try to converse, stop, or merely interact with the man, he would stop ask for the ICU level, then dissipate with another few steps.
After a handful of days, Kristoph, among other people, would start to notice that the spirit was becoming increasingly angered. It was coming to a head, until one particular night.
Miles had appeared at the defense attorney’s bedside, like any other night, this time at a different distance. Kristoph would snort, roll his eyes - because what in the world could something that was as mythical as unicorns do to the living?
Eyes widened when something did begin to happen.
The spirit had reached over, making a motion that looked like he was touching the IV bag. Almost instantly, the drip increased to a hazardous point, and he looked back at Kristoph, watching as the defense attorney slowly OD’d on the drug.
The attending will say that they never have seen an angrier looking corpse.
*
Phoenix and Trucy move back to their office-home in Los Angeles. Things have stopped happening in Kurain, and for some reason, Phoenix no longer feels like he’s being constantly observed. And sure enough, when they return to their quaint little home, everything is calm, tranquil. It’s surreal, in comparison to the past trauma they have experienced.
Trucy still can’t quite get over the sight of Pearl being, for lack of a better term, strangled by an unseen force. Phoenix will share his bed with his daughter for the next several weeks; and she will be at his side constantly, building an even stronger bond, if it were possible.
Though things have calmed down exceptionally, Phoenix cannot help but wonder what happened to Miles’ ghost. Why he was appearing as if he were being chased in Kurain, and why he would harm Pearl - and Larry, because, despite his odd lifestyle, Larry Butz was incredibly aware of his health. There couldn’t be a natural cause for his heart attack.
Without hesitation, he’s asked Maya to channel Miles - but there is no such luck. Like the first time they attempted, the Master is shot backwards and into a state of shock. Phoenix is forced to wonder why Miles’ soul is still so tortured.
After all, Kristoph Gavin was deceased - that was what he was after, wasn’t it?
But he doesn’t understand, and still doesn’t when they fail at contacting the dead prosecutor through the Ouija Board, as well. They get Pearl, they get Larry, they even ask those two about Miles; but the conversation always ends then, or Maya and Phoenix won’t get any answers until they ask a new question.
He’s often sitting on the couch, palming the stubble on his chin and wondering. He makes for a good target, in hindsight, especially when he begins to daze in and out of consciousness.
So Phoenix is respectably startled when there’s a cold rush that sends the back of his neck up, stiffening the little hairs that rest there. He jolts awake again, eyes settling on the clearest figure of Miles Phoenix has seen since he was alive.
And Miles just stands.
And stands.
And stands.
Until Phoenix breathes, choking out something that resembles the deceased’s name; noticing the mangled clothing and the slit wrists, the foreboding atmosphere that lingers around the figure.
Miles leans in, letting noises fall from his lips again. They sound angry and pleasant all at the same time, and the closer Miles gets, the more Phoenix’s chest starts to hurt. Badly.
The defense attorney barely gets out that he kind of wishes that Miles would go to Heaven already, because it kills Phoenix to see-to know-that the prosecutor is in pain, is still so agonizingly stuck in this world that he doesn’t belong in.
It was then that, in his peripheral vision, does he see another figure, just as clear, standing a few feet and to the side of Miles and Phoenix. Sapphire eyes widen, and it comes in clear that it’s Kristoph Gavin - and he’s looking positively evil.
Miles’ head whips around, and something happens, because the prosecutor lunges at Kristoph, and both figures disappear.
Two days later, Trucy and Phoenix move to Kurain.
Though he is guilt-wracked, he cannot help but feel touched.