i was just waiting for your phone call
Writing fic? WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME. Also, this is the last fandom I expected to write fic in.
Title: Displaced
Character(s)/Pairing(s): pre-slash Phoenix/Edgeworth
Rating: G
Summary: If Phoenix was being honest to himself, he would admit that he had been waiting for him to call.
Word count: 1413
Warnings: Spoilers for Apollo Justice and vague spoilers for PW:3.5 and PW:1.5.
Notes: Set after that certain incident which occurs seven years before Apollo Justice begins. Also un-beta'd because I am without one. :(
The phone had been ringing off the hook all day. Reporters, all demanding explanations and statements, and within that gaggle, the concerned voices of old friends. But Phoenix was in no mind to answer anyone’s questions or take anyone’s call. The shock of what had happened had yet to sink in, the absence of the badge from his lapel still almost like a dream.
Instead, he pulled the plug on his phone and set about doing anything but think of the turnout of his last trial. And what better way to do that than sit on his couch and watch Steel Samurai reruns until his brain was numb?
When his mobile rang that night, just as he was beginning his second beer, Phoenix knew without a glance who it would be.
11.00 p.m. in L.A…that means it’s 8.00 a.m. in Paris.
I’m not sure I’m ready for this.
But ready or not, Phoenix couldn’t let it go unanswered. Edgeworth would want an explanation, and he owed him that much. He muted the television and answered, bracing himself.
“Hello, Phoenix Wright speaking.”
“Wright! What’s going on!?” Somehow, even when angry and demanding, it felt good to hear his voice.
“Edgeworth.” Phoenix sighed. “It’s complicated.”
“Tell me.” he said, in a tone that told Phoenix he would accept no argument. He had to smile at that, at the stubbornness colouring his voice that was familiar to him ever since they were children.
“I was disbarred. For forging evidence and presenting it to the court.” he said. Phoenix had tried for resigned, but fell short into bitterness. It was the first time he had said it aloud since it had happened and somehow, it made it more real.
“And did you?” the prosecutor asked without preamble. Phoenix had to laugh a little then, at that familiar intensity in his voice, so recognisable from seeing Edgeworth in court.
“Are you pressing me to answer?”
“Phoenix.” Edgeworth stopped abruptly and all of Phoenix’s amusement dissipated in that instant. It had been years since he had heard his friend call him anything other than Wright and it hearing now, in that deeper and older voice, made his heart constrict oddly in his chest. He swallowed.
“What do you think?” he asked past the lump in his throat, almost afraid of what answer Edgeworth might give.
There was no hesitation on the other side. “Never.” Edgeworth said, firmly, “You would never fabricate evidence to secure a verdict. That’s not like you at all.”
Phoenix let out the breath he was holding. He hadn’t realised how much it meant to him until now, that Edgeworth believed in him.
“Thank you,” he said, simple and heartfelt, “Miles.”
There was pause and then Edgeworth’s voice again, speaking clearly down the line. “Tell me what happened.”
And he did, Phoenix told him all that had taken place in those last few days: the case sprung on him from nowhere, the new prosecutor, the forgery, and the case’s bittersweet conclusion. Zak Gramarye had escaped the guilty verdict, but the devastation he had left in his wake had changed Phoenix’s life completely. Edgeworth was silent throughout his account of the trial and its aftermath, and for that Phoenix was thankful. It meant he could give the facts, cool and impartial, like it was a story that had happened to someone else; like it was not his life that had just been transformed.
“So what will you do now?” Edgeworth had asked, at the end of it all.
“Honestly, I don’t know.” he admitted. He had wondered once before, after losing his badge, what was out there for him besides being a lawyer and in that moment nothing had come to mind; just a blank page where the rest of his life should have been. He had not thought of it since. Still, one thing was clear.
“All I know is that this isn’t over yet. Somebody set me up to take the fall and I plan to find out who.” He had been thinking about it all day, going over again and again every detail of his last case. The way Prosecutor Gavin had practically prompted him to present his false evidence, the way the torn edge in the diary had been too obvious to miss, the way the ‘special witness’ had already been on standby, ready to be called the moment the page was shown…
It was all too clean, too easy. And he had fallen right for it.
“Do you have any idea who?”
“No, not yet.”
Edgeworth sighed. “It won’t be easy, Wright.”
“I know.”
There was a pause, and then Edgeworth speaking again, determined, “I think it’s time I returned to L.A.”
Phoenix closed his eyes. This was the thing he had been dreading.
“No.” he said, and now perhaps he knew how Edgeworth had felt, that time in detention, pushing Phoenix away even though what he had wanted was very different.
“No?”
“You can’t come back here, Edgeworth. You shouldn’t be seen with me. Especially not now.” Part of Phoenix hated himself for bringing it up, still an open wound for Edgeworth, but it was the truth. “Both of us have been accused of forging evidence now. Though the rumours about you have died down, don’t you think they’ll make a connection once you come back? It’ll only destroy what you’ve worked so hard for.”
Phoenix knew he was right, though telling Edgeworth to stay away was the last thing he wanted. The prosecutor was silent.
“Also, I need you out there.” Phoenix continued, “I can’t leave this country now, not until this is finished. And you and I both know this country’s system has to change. You said so yourself, remember?”
It had been soon after Iris’ trial; right after Edgeworth had told him he would be leaving again. Phoenix, heart pounding and palms sweaty, had asked him to stay. It was then that Edgeworth had brought it up; the other “truth” he had found while overseas.
“The courts of this country are flawed. You’ve seen it for yourself in many of your own trials, Wright. Even when the case is all but won, without evidence your case is nothing. Who knows how many murderers have gone free because there hasn’t been substantial evidence?” Edgeworth met his eyes and Phoenix had seen that boy he used to know, who wanted so badly to follow in his father’s footsteps and defend “those too weak to defend themselves”.
“I’ve been studying the judicial systems of all the countries I visited abroad.” Edgeworth continued, “Seeing what works, what doesn’t. It’s time to change this country’s system, Wright. And this is what I need to do.”
Then Edgeworth had looked away from him, before saying quietly, “I’m doing this because of you, you know.” The look on his face had broken Phoenix’s heart more than anything else he had said.
And so Edgeworth had left and Phoenix had let him. He hadn’t wanted it then and he didn’t want it now, but he knew it was needed. Still, it didn’t make it any less painful to say.
“You’re a devious man, Wright,” Edgeworth said, finally, “Throwing my own words back at me.”
“I’m sorry.” Phoenix said, sincere.
“No, you’re right.” There was long pause before Edgeworth spoke again, this time hesitantly. “I’m here…if ever you need my help.” he said, sounding for all the world like the words physically hurt him to say. “You have my number.”
Phoenix couldn’t stop the smile from breaking out on his face, the first perhaps for days. “I know,” he said, not trying at all to hide the warmth and affection in his voice, “Thanks, Miles,”
Edgeworth coughed in the receiver, awkward. “I forgot to ask before, Wright, but…how are you coping?”
“Truthfully? Not so great. But I’m getting there.” Phoenix smiled before adding, “It’s because of you, you know.”
“I…see.” Edgeworth responded, clearly caught off guard.
“Don’t worry about me,” he reassured him, “I’ll work it out.”
“Fine,” Edgeworth hesitated and then spoke, abruptly, “Good-bye, Wright.”
“Bye, Edgeworth.”
The phone clicked and the dial tone met his ears. Putting the phone down, he knew realistically that nothing had changed. He was still unemployed, still alone in his apartment, still on the couch in his boxers while the television played silent reruns. But somehow now, in the space of an hour, the weight on his shoulders had grown lighter. Perhaps his future was not so blank, after all.
Title: Displaced
Character(s)/Pairing(s): pre-slash Phoenix/Edgeworth
Rating: G
Summary: If Phoenix was being honest to himself, he would admit that he had been waiting for him to call.
Word count: 1413
Warnings: Spoilers for Apollo Justice and vague spoilers for PW:3.5 and PW:1.5.
Notes: Set after that certain incident which occurs seven years before Apollo Justice begins. Also un-beta'd because I am without one. :(
The phone had been ringing off the hook all day. Reporters, all demanding explanations and statements, and within that gaggle, the concerned voices of old friends. But Phoenix was in no mind to answer anyone’s questions or take anyone’s call. The shock of what had happened had yet to sink in, the absence of the badge from his lapel still almost like a dream.
Instead, he pulled the plug on his phone and set about doing anything but think of the turnout of his last trial. And what better way to do that than sit on his couch and watch Steel Samurai reruns until his brain was numb?
When his mobile rang that night, just as he was beginning his second beer, Phoenix knew without a glance who it would be.
11.00 p.m. in L.A…that means it’s 8.00 a.m. in Paris.
I’m not sure I’m ready for this.
But ready or not, Phoenix couldn’t let it go unanswered. Edgeworth would want an explanation, and he owed him that much. He muted the television and answered, bracing himself.
“Hello, Phoenix Wright speaking.”
“Wright! What’s going on!?” Somehow, even when angry and demanding, it felt good to hear his voice.
“Edgeworth.” Phoenix sighed. “It’s complicated.”
“Tell me.” he said, in a tone that told Phoenix he would accept no argument. He had to smile at that, at the stubbornness colouring his voice that was familiar to him ever since they were children.
“I was disbarred. For forging evidence and presenting it to the court.” he said. Phoenix had tried for resigned, but fell short into bitterness. It was the first time he had said it aloud since it had happened and somehow, it made it more real.
“And did you?” the prosecutor asked without preamble. Phoenix had to laugh a little then, at that familiar intensity in his voice, so recognisable from seeing Edgeworth in court.
“Are you pressing me to answer?”
“Phoenix.” Edgeworth stopped abruptly and all of Phoenix’s amusement dissipated in that instant. It had been years since he had heard his friend call him anything other than Wright and it hearing now, in that deeper and older voice, made his heart constrict oddly in his chest. He swallowed.
“What do you think?” he asked past the lump in his throat, almost afraid of what answer Edgeworth might give.
There was no hesitation on the other side. “Never.” Edgeworth said, firmly, “You would never fabricate evidence to secure a verdict. That’s not like you at all.”
Phoenix let out the breath he was holding. He hadn’t realised how much it meant to him until now, that Edgeworth believed in him.
“Thank you,” he said, simple and heartfelt, “Miles.”
There was pause and then Edgeworth’s voice again, speaking clearly down the line. “Tell me what happened.”
And he did, Phoenix told him all that had taken place in those last few days: the case sprung on him from nowhere, the new prosecutor, the forgery, and the case’s bittersweet conclusion. Zak Gramarye had escaped the guilty verdict, but the devastation he had left in his wake had changed Phoenix’s life completely. Edgeworth was silent throughout his account of the trial and its aftermath, and for that Phoenix was thankful. It meant he could give the facts, cool and impartial, like it was a story that had happened to someone else; like it was not his life that had just been transformed.
“So what will you do now?” Edgeworth had asked, at the end of it all.
“Honestly, I don’t know.” he admitted. He had wondered once before, after losing his badge, what was out there for him besides being a lawyer and in that moment nothing had come to mind; just a blank page where the rest of his life should have been. He had not thought of it since. Still, one thing was clear.
“All I know is that this isn’t over yet. Somebody set me up to take the fall and I plan to find out who.” He had been thinking about it all day, going over again and again every detail of his last case. The way Prosecutor Gavin had practically prompted him to present his false evidence, the way the torn edge in the diary had been too obvious to miss, the way the ‘special witness’ had already been on standby, ready to be called the moment the page was shown…
It was all too clean, too easy. And he had fallen right for it.
“Do you have any idea who?”
“No, not yet.”
Edgeworth sighed. “It won’t be easy, Wright.”
“I know.”
There was a pause, and then Edgeworth speaking again, determined, “I think it’s time I returned to L.A.”
Phoenix closed his eyes. This was the thing he had been dreading.
“No.” he said, and now perhaps he knew how Edgeworth had felt, that time in detention, pushing Phoenix away even though what he had wanted was very different.
“No?”
“You can’t come back here, Edgeworth. You shouldn’t be seen with me. Especially not now.” Part of Phoenix hated himself for bringing it up, still an open wound for Edgeworth, but it was the truth. “Both of us have been accused of forging evidence now. Though the rumours about you have died down, don’t you think they’ll make a connection once you come back? It’ll only destroy what you’ve worked so hard for.”
Phoenix knew he was right, though telling Edgeworth to stay away was the last thing he wanted. The prosecutor was silent.
“Also, I need you out there.” Phoenix continued, “I can’t leave this country now, not until this is finished. And you and I both know this country’s system has to change. You said so yourself, remember?”
It had been soon after Iris’ trial; right after Edgeworth had told him he would be leaving again. Phoenix, heart pounding and palms sweaty, had asked him to stay. It was then that Edgeworth had brought it up; the other “truth” he had found while overseas.
“The courts of this country are flawed. You’ve seen it for yourself in many of your own trials, Wright. Even when the case is all but won, without evidence your case is nothing. Who knows how many murderers have gone free because there hasn’t been substantial evidence?” Edgeworth met his eyes and Phoenix had seen that boy he used to know, who wanted so badly to follow in his father’s footsteps and defend “those too weak to defend themselves”.
“I’ve been studying the judicial systems of all the countries I visited abroad.” Edgeworth continued, “Seeing what works, what doesn’t. It’s time to change this country’s system, Wright. And this is what I need to do.”
Then Edgeworth had looked away from him, before saying quietly, “I’m doing this because of you, you know.” The look on his face had broken Phoenix’s heart more than anything else he had said.
And so Edgeworth had left and Phoenix had let him. He hadn’t wanted it then and he didn’t want it now, but he knew it was needed. Still, it didn’t make it any less painful to say.
“You’re a devious man, Wright,” Edgeworth said, finally, “Throwing my own words back at me.”
“I’m sorry.” Phoenix said, sincere.
“No, you’re right.” There was long pause before Edgeworth spoke again, this time hesitantly. “I’m here…if ever you need my help.” he said, sounding for all the world like the words physically hurt him to say. “You have my number.”
Phoenix couldn’t stop the smile from breaking out on his face, the first perhaps for days. “I know,” he said, not trying at all to hide the warmth and affection in his voice, “Thanks, Miles,”
Edgeworth coughed in the receiver, awkward. “I forgot to ask before, Wright, but…how are you coping?”
“Truthfully? Not so great. But I’m getting there.” Phoenix smiled before adding, “It’s because of you, you know.”
“I…see.” Edgeworth responded, clearly caught off guard.
“Don’t worry about me,” he reassured him, “I’ll work it out.”
“Fine,” Edgeworth hesitated and then spoke, abruptly, “Good-bye, Wright.”
“Bye, Edgeworth.”
The phone clicked and the dial tone met his ears. Putting the phone down, he knew realistically that nothing had changed. He was still unemployed, still alone in his apartment, still on the couch in his boxers while the television played silent reruns. But somehow now, in the space of an hour, the weight on his shoulders had grown lighter. Perhaps his future was not so blank, after all.