A Long Way to Fall - Chapter 11
Part Eleven
Phoenix slowly opened his eyes.
Bright sunlight streamed in between cream-colored blinds. It took a few moments of blinking to adjust to the light.
He found himself in a hospital bed. A long IV was inserted into a vein in his left arm, a clear liquid dripping in. Various wires draped over him, attached to dully beeping monitors. He licked his lips and found that his mouth was not so parched anymore, and though he was still very hungry, it was not the unbearable pain of his stomach gnawing in emptiness.
Starchy sheets were tucked in close around him, and he kicked them down to get a look at himself. He wore a soft hospital gown, the creases worn, loosely tied at his side. Beneath it he was bruised, the dark purple marks starting to fade into green and yellow. His ankles were scuffed, the skin chafed and a bit discolored. His wrists looked even worse, skin raw and bright pink with a lingering sting from disinfectant. His muscles still ached from being held up for long stretches of time. Curiously, there was a portable table next to his bed covered with ice packs.
The sound of people filtered in, the muffled background noise of doctors and nurses, patients and their friends and family, all beyond his room's closed door. He was alone; no visitors were sleeping in the faux leather guest chairs. That was all right. He needed a minute to himself to sort through what had happened.
He'd been falling in and out of consciousness. Banks had let him down from the hook and left him lying on the floor, unattended, as he moved the pulley equipment out of the container. Phoenix remembered feeling so weak, so dizzy and out of it, that he couldn't really move, much less try to escape. It had taken Banks a couple of tries just to get him steady enough to stand.
There'd been a gunshot... Had Banks shot someone?
And then he remembered Edgeworth.
He'd believed it was another hallucination, something his delirious mind had dreamed up from anxiety and longing. But Edgeworth stubbornly remained there, with a look of fury he'd never seen before. Edgeworth had begged Banks not to hurt him, down on his knees. Admitted that he-
His room door swung open, and a nurse peeked in at him. When she saw that he was awake, she gave him a bright smile. "How are you feeling?"
Caught in the middle of his disbelieving thoughts, Phoenix tried to hide behind a quick grin. "Could be worse, I guess." His voice sounded more normal but felt strange, no longer dry and hoarse.
The nurse laughed indulgently and placed one of the ice packs against his side, covering not just a bruise but a good portion of his skin as well. The coolness felt oddly soothing. "I'll send the doctor in to see you shortly. There're some people waiting for you. Do you feel up for visitors soon?"
Company would be nice. It would keep him from thinking too much.
The doctor explained to Phoenix what he was being treated for, in that detached way doctors assumed when delivering unpleasant news. He was unconscious when he was brought in and had slept for over a whole day, recovering. He'd been starved and dehydrated for four days, and the heat in the shipping container had given him heatstroke. The prolonged lack of any fluids combined with overheating left him in dire straits; one more night and he might have died. The ice packs had helped to bring his body temperature down. He wasn't yet ready for solid foods - something to do with his kidneys - so he'd stay on the liquid-nutrient IV for a little longer.
With some slight hesitation, the doctor mentioned concerns that Phoenix had been sexually assaulted. Phoenix bit his lip and looked away, remembering Banks's hands and forced kiss, and that worrying gap in his memory. There were no external signs of assault, though a blood test revealed trace amounts of the drug rohypnol in his system. Phoenix wondered if Banks had knocked him unconscious with it: that could explain his memory loss. Tests to check for any infections had been ordered, just to be safe.
After the doctor left, Maya was sent in to see him. Though she looked tired she beamed at him, and he felt a deep happiness and relief spread through him at seeing her again, like a soothing balm on his injuries. She waved off a lot of his questions about what happened, explaining that the police knew more than she did. She also warned him that Agent Chase wanted to take his statement later. He felt a smile tug at his lips to learn that she was still here.
Banks had lied about no one looking for him. He wondered how many other falsehoods he'd been fed in lieu of food.
Turned out Maya did try to channel him. He could only imagine the pain and desperation she must have felt to attempt that, and he tried to apologize for putting her through it. She socked him in the arm in response. At least she missed the bruises.
Gumshoe had been shot by Banks, and Phoenix's pulse spiked in a sudden burst of worry, but fortunately the injury was not life-threatening. The detective had joined the 'shot-in-the-shoulder' club with Franziska, who was apparently in from Germany and not at all pleased that she had something in common with her subordinate. He was even in the same hospital, only a few floors down, and both of them had round-the-clock guards posted outside their rooms. Once he felt strong enough, Phoenix vowed to amble over and visit him.
Maya eventually gave him a hesitant, careful hug, no less sincere for her efforts to avoid hurting him. "I don't want to tire you out too much, old man, so I'm going to come back tomorrow."
He smiled, ignoring her insult. It felt like ages since he'd last seen her at the train station. A lifetime ago.
"Fine, fine."
"Don't scare me like that again," she said quietly. Her smile and her voice both wavered, and Phoenix realized how much she had been holding back, keeping a strong face for him and probably everyone else. He pulled her into another hug, bruises be damned, and she let out a short, wrenched sob. The shoulder of his hospital gown grew damp, and he just held on more tightly. She'd lost so many people in her life; he was grateful not to be another.
She pulled herself back with an embarrassed smile, eyes still watery, and planted a kiss against his forehead. "I'll bring Pearly with me next time. She's missed you too." She wiped at her eyes and gave him a soft look, considering. "So… Do you want to see Edgeworth now?"
His stomach tried to turn in on itself, but not from hunger. "He's here?"
That earned him an eye-roll. "Duh. Why do you think the police aren't here first, bombarding you with questions? He made sure we got the first crack at you."
Her expression faltered, turning into something between worry and exasperation. "He wasn't sure if you wanted to see him, though. He thinks what happened to you is his fault, Nick."
Phoenix let out a long sigh, which hurt his chest a little. He remembered the things he considered in the shipping container, his resolve to admit his feelings…
"You'd better send him in then," he instructed Maya, bracing himself for what was likely to be a painful conversation.
He didn't realize he was holding his breath until Edgeworth entered.
The prosecutor looked exhausted. He was paler than usual, the lines etched deep near his eyes, his shoulders uncharacteristically slumped. But he was safe, unharmed. A warm, liquid feeling coursed through Phoenix, soothing like wine. When Edgeworth briefly met his glance he felt his heart speed up, echoed by the monitor attached to him. He had nearly lost his chance to see Edgeworth again, to talk with him, to tell him - everything.
Edgeworth planted himself a foot away from Phoenix's side, down by his legs. He wrapped an arm around himself, clutching at his elbow, and kept his eyes averted. His expression was a cross between worry and self-loathing, brows drawn low and mouth turned down in a grimace.
Phoenix hesitated. Edgeworth might not want to talk about feelings right now; he looked miserable enough already. He waited, letting an awkward silence settle between them, and allowed the other man to make the first move.
"I wish to apologize to you, Wright."
Phoenix finally let out his breath in an exasperated noise. "Edgeworth, don't apologize. It's not your fault. You know I don't blame you for any of this, right?"
The prosecutor fell silent, tense, as though he was waiting for Phoenix to lash out and had braced himself for it. The weight of the kidnapping hung heavy in the air, unspoken but impossible to be ignored. The silence grew stifling: Phoenix waiting for a response that never came, Edgeworth too preoccupied with guilt to reply.
Why had this gotten so difficult?
Phoenix yearned for that time - and it was difficult to believe it wasn't very long ago - when they'd worked together on his sofa, easy and content, relaxed with one another.
Those fuzzy memories in the shipping container spun around in his head. Edgeworth had said he loved him - but Banks had literally held a gun to his head, hadn't he? Of course the answer would be yes. Perhaps that was the problem: Edgeworth had needed to lie, and felt embarrassed around him now because of it.
Or maybe there was another reason for this gulf between them. The last thing Phoenix remembered before he was kidnapped was Edgeworth being angry. What had they argued about? Did it escalate into something else?
Were they even friends anymore?
A dull, dry feeling started spreading inside, withering, worse than thirst and more painful.
Digging his fingers into the sheets beneath him, Phoenix spoke quietly. "I don't really remember what happened right before I was… before I woke up in that container."
Edgeworth finally looked up at him, startled. "What?"
Phoenix swallowed hard; some distant part of him appreciated having even that small ability returned. "I think I was drugged. My memory's kinda hazy. The last thing I remember is us arguing."
Edgeworth looked stricken, almost as if he wanted to run out of the room. He wondered how it was possible for the prosecutor to pale further, turning white as a sheet.
"I don't even remember what the fight was about," he added. It must have been something pretty bad, judging by that reaction.
A strangled noise escaped Edgeworth's throat. "And after?" There was an odd inflection, hopeful and fearful at the same time, a murky undercurrent that Phoenix couldn't follow.
He shook his head. The silence that followed was thick and uncomfortable, oppressive.
"Perhaps it's better if you don't remember." The words finally tumbled out from Edgeworth, sounding almost… sad.
A weight pushed down on Phoenix's chest, stifling, heavier than the hospital blankets. His fear was confirmed: something had happened between them, and it put their friendship in jeopardy.
Edgeworth looked away, staring at a spot on the wall so intently it was liable to burst into flames. His jaw clenched tight, expression blank and unmoving. Finally, he drew in a long breath.
"Wright, I-" He halted, struggling, and then abruptly changed course. "I hope you recover well and quickly. I won't take up more of your time. Agent Chase wishes to speak with you, so I'll send her in."
Phoenix, head spinning, realized the prosecutor was leaving. "Edgeworth, wait! Please-"
But he was already gone.
Soon Agent Chase stepped into his room, a satisfied smile on her face. His death had been prevented, a murderer had been arrested, and with the capture of their honeypot and one of their dealers she'd made the first real headway into dismantling the counterfeiting ring.
"But your recovery is highest on my list of reasons to be happy," she assured him with a wink. He managed to give her a genuine smile in response.
However, his mood continued to sink as she recounted the details of the search and rescue. Phoenix nodded along, distracted, as she described how Edgeworth had figured out where Banks had kept him, how Edgeworth demanded to accompany her, Edgeworth who confronted Banks. He felt more confused with every mention of the prosecutor; she made it sound like he had moved mountains to get to him.
His subdued responses must have given something away. Agent Chase gave him a thoughtful look and switched her focus to the capture of Christopher Banks. Phoenix recalled the feeling of the gun at his temple, the cold metal terrifying. She'd had only an instant to react, and she hit Banks in his arm, the one holding the pistol to his head. With a grin, she confessed that hit was already giving her a 'cowboy' reputation among her colleagues: shooting instantly from the hip, so to speak, to take the bad guy down.
Banks was in custody now, under constant surveillance at a different hospital across town. Her shot had shattered his forearm and elbow, requiring Banks to undergo extensive surgery and a painful recuperation.
There was a part of Phoenix, a small vengeful bit, which was glad to hear that Banks was hurt.
He answered Agent Chase's questions as best as he could. The parts about his experience in the container were difficult; he didn't really want to remember most of that. She squeezed his hand, letting her professionalism slip in favor of compassion. Even though she had a million things to take care of - officers to lead, more criminals in the ring to apprehend - she made certain he was holding up okay. It made something in his heart ache.
She reminded him of Mia.
Maya returned the next afternoon with Pearl at her side, all bright grins and hugs. Phoenix did his best to smile and be cheerful. And he was happy, so thankful to see them both again. But Maya gave him a piercing look, and asked him what had happened with Edgeworth, and he couldn't answer.
It hurt to think about the prosecutor. If Phoenix was completely honest, he was upset and angry. After everything that had happened - all he had been through - Edgeworth couldn't face him.
Phoenix was almost certain their friendship was over.
But at the end of his fourth day in the hospital, Edgeworth returned.
Their first moment of eye contact was enough to make Phoenix's heart drop, like a plummet from a mountain: an unsteady, uncontrolled free-fall, thrilling and terrifying at once. He was angry - he was happy - a whole jumbled mixture of emotions surged through him. He loved and hated how it felt to see the prosecutor again.
Clearing his throat, Edgeworth quickly moved past the hospital bed and straight to the window.
"I have taken a leave of absence until the remainder of the counterfeiting ring is apprehended," he announced, looking out the blinds. "The police feel that since I was the original target, it is not safe to return home until the whole ring is in custody. Agent Chase assisted with hotel arrangements out of town."
"Is that why you haven't been here?"
Phoenix knew there was an edge of resentment in his tone. It was difficult to hide his - what? Disappointment? Bitterness? He'd had so much time to think about Edgeworth, to ruminate on this wedge between them. To wonder what they were to each other now.
Edgeworth flinched. Just a quick wince, gone in an instant, and a minute jerk of his shoulders, almost imperceptible. If Phoenix hadn't been watching so closely, he would have missed it completely. There was something darkly satisfying in knowing that he could make the prosecutor feel something, at least.
Ignoring his question, Edgeworth responded curtly. "Certain parties informed me you would want to know."
"So, did Maya or Agent Chase guilt-trip you here?" Phoenix retorted. The silence that followed all but confirmed his guess, and he felt a flash of deep irritation.
That awkwardness, cumbersome and unwieldy, stretched out. They hadn't been so uncomfortable around each other since their first trial.
He stared at Edgeworth, his profile illuminated by the streetlights outside the window; his shadowed features gave him a haunted expression. Like a ghost. Phoenix remembered the car ride, the night when Edgeworth met Banks. Remembered wanting to touch him, to run his hand along his face and smooth away the tired lines.
Edgeworth was running away: from his guilt, from Phoenix. Staying angry would only push him further away. And despite his resentment and this tension, Phoenix knew what he really wanted most was to pull Edgeworth to him and convince him to - stay.
He searched for the right words, anger beginning to thaw, but once more Edgeworth, stiff and unyielding, decided to leave rather than prolong the awkward visit.
"Wait!"
He was filled with the irrational sense that if Edgeworth left, their friendship would well and truly end. And any hopes he had, any possible chance of having something more would be dashed, shattered, turned to dust.
"Miles, please!"
Edgeworth halted, his hand shaking on the doorknob.
This could be his only opportunity. Whatever relationship they had, it was hanging by a thread. Phoenix launched into a speech before he even realized what he was saying.
"I don't know why things are so hard between us now. Nothing was your fault, I don't blame you for anything Banks did. If you're upset because of something I said, or something I did, I apologize. Whatever happened between us, I'm sorry. But don't leave like this."
"That's the second time you've apologized for…" Edgeworth trailed off, voice strange, sounding miserable and cautious and something else Phoenix couldn't identify. His body was rigid with tension, still facing the door. But he hadn't disappeared yet.
The only sound in the room came from the heart monitor, tellingly growing faster. Head down, eyes closed, Phoenix threw his cards on the table, all of them, the whole deck, let them land as clumsily as his words.
"Miles, I couldn't stop thinking about you when I was in that container. I- I care about you, more than I ever let you know, more than even I knew. And I hope saying that doesn't wreck our friendship, or whatever we have left. But I promised myself that if I ever got out, if I lived through all of that, I would tell you - how much you mean to me. Because you do. And even if we're just friends, or rivals, or whatever we are, I just wanted you to-"
Edgeworth had turned, and in a few loud steps he reached the hospital bed.
Phoenix never got to finish that speech, because Edgeworth placed his hands on either side of his face, thumbs braced against his cheeks, and tilted his head back up, and kissed him.
Edgeworth brushed his lips against him, once, and again, soft and not-quite-chaste, and moved back. He let his forehead dip down, bangs hiding his eyes. "That's what happened, Phoenix," he said quietly, almost a murmur.
The sound of his name, low in that baritone voice, sent a jolt straight to his soul. Oh.
Oh.
"I thought- with the argument-"
"You were always good at turning things around." Edgeworth began to straighten. "But after what's happened, I understand if you don't-"
Phoenix had wrapped his fingers around the cravat dangling between them. Eyes falling closed again, he pulled Edgeworth back against him, lips already moving to take Edgeworth's between them.
Oh yes. This was the moment he'd been waiting for.
Edgeworth made a low, desperate, hungry noise, and Phoenix decided it was the best sound he'd ever heard. He opened his mouth, darted his tongue against Edgeworth's lips to hear it again, that sign the prosecutor could lose his careful control because of him. Edgeworth met him, tongues sliding together, warm and wet and utterly enthralling.
He drank Edgeworth in like water: something he craved, needed, so long denied. A great flood had opened up, powerful, washing away his anger and the fear and pain he had endured.
Something skirted just out of reach from his memory but not from his senses, exhilarating and vaguely nostalgic. A first kiss, new and thrilling and breath-taking, tinged with the almost-forgotten sensation of their other first kiss. He felt dizzy from the depth of it, drowning happily in the long-sought, familiar taste.
His hands slid upward, along Edgeworth's neck, and lightly traced his jaw, holding his face. He could feel every movement, every time Edgeworth widened his mouth or made a short gasp for air. Edgeworth's arms slipped around his shoulders and moved gently down, splayed across his ribs, fingertips curling against the hospital gown. They felt incredibly warm; Phoenix realized the gown's tie had loosened, the cloth gaping open, and- Edgeworth's fingers- moving against his bare skin…
He moaned, the sound low and heady, and he felt those fingers twitch sharply in response. He nearly pulled Edgeworth on top of him, not caring one whit for his injuries or the cramped bed.
But Edgeworth resisted his insistent tug. Phoenix watched him reluctantly pull himself away, the intense expression on that handsome face changing into something more controlled. Edgeworth finally opened his eyes, his chest rising and falling in slow, deep breaths.
"I have to leave tonight." It sounded more like the prosecutor was convincing himself - and his eyes were still piercing, heated.
"Oh."
He couldn't keep the disappointment out of his voice. His hands cupped Edgeworth's face again, pulled him in for another kiss to hide his frustration. This one was more forceful, and he poured every unspoken word and emotion into one frantic act, and was left wanting more.
"I - I don't know when I can come back."
"See me again when you do?"
He'd normally be embarrassed at the yearning in his voice.
Edgeworth grabbed Phoenix's hand and laced their fingers together, the only part of them still close enough to touch. The gesture was almost as intimate as the kiss.
"I will."
Alone again in his hospital room, Phoenix relived the memory of their kiss well into the night.
The doctors kept him for another full week.
He spent the days resting in the hospital bed, recovering and watching inane daytime television. The Feys came by every day; even Mia paid him a visit, channeled by Pearl, sitting side-by-side with her sister. Maya insisted on watching the Steel Samurai marathon, which naturally led into Pink Princess reruns, and Pearls became enamored with the two leads. The relief Phoenix felt from himself and her cousin no longer bearing the brunt of her romantic aspirations was stifled by her endless sermons on how wonderful the two characters were for each other.
"We've created a monster," he informed Maya, half-joking.
He could drink water and other liquids now, and eat foods again, and never before had things tasted so good. Even the double orders of hospital hamburgers, which Maya cheekily forced him to order in exchange for shutting up about Edgeworth and kissing, tasted like gourmet fare. He'd lost some weight while starved in the shipping container, but was quickly getting back to normal. The infections tests turned out negative, a small relief, and his kidneys had bounced back unscathed. His ankles and wrists were almost healed, the bruises on his chest and sides fading away. The hospital even assigned a therapist to chat with him for an hour each day, to help him cope with any trauma caused by his kidnapping and abuse. Phoenix wondered how many of his former clients could have benefitted from therapy, and vowed to remember how useful a bit of psychology could be.
The nurses gave him bright grins, amazed at his resilience. Not so long ago, he would have felt flattered at their attention.
Franziska visited, once, an uncomfortable situation for both of them. She barely acknowledged his recovery and threatened to thoroughly stomp him in court as soon as he had the nerve to face her again. He almost incurred her wrath, and her whip, when he let out a half-nervous, half-amused laugh at her posturing. She ended her visit, with a slight pink tinge across her cheeks, by threatening to make his life as miserable as only a von Karma could if he disappointed her.
They both knew what she was really talking about.
Gumshoe was thrilled to see him. His shoulder was bandaged, his arm held in a kind of sling to keep from agitating the wound. Unlike almost everyone else he knew, the detective was enjoying his hospital stay, particularly the free meals. Maggey had claimed an area near the visitors' chairs as her permanent perch until her boyfriend was well enough to go home, doting on him with a determined smile. Gumshoe he had been reinstated on the force, again, pending his full recovery, with an official apology from the police chief. Agent Chase had arranged some kind of commendation for him, and Edgeworth had recommended a substantial salary increase. Gumshoe beamed as he talked about all the new foods he could buy with the extra money. He and Maggey promised to invite him over for dinner soon, and maybe Edgeworth would come too.
Something inside Phoenix bubbled happily at the thought.
Agent Chase retrieved him personally on the day he was dismissed. His apartment was off-limits, like Edgeworth's, until the remaining ring members were apprehended. She'd had a few officers put together an overnight bag for him, and she'd even retrieved his blue jacket. It felt good to sling it around his shoulders again, like the final step in his recovery. His badge was missing, though, and he felt a little ping of loss at the empty hole in his lapel.
They stood to shoulder to shoulder outside the main entrance, suits on, professional, shades of blue reflecting in the puddles from recent rainfall.
"You're looking much better," she said, her eyes shining with approval.
"I feel better," he replied, stretching. He was grateful to move around freely again.
"Do you have a place to go?" Agent Chase asked. "That psychic village?"
Maya, along with Pearl, had returned to her home after close to a month away. The elders might throw a fit if he showed up and distracted her from her duties for even longer.
Besides, there was somewhere else he wanted to be.
"Take me where you took Edgeworth," he said, simply.
Their eyes met, lingering. Agent Chase - Justine - offered him a gentle smile. There was a hint of sadness in her expression, but she quickly brightened her grin over it. He knew it wasn't an act; she really was happy for him.
She drove him away from the hospital. Over an hour outside the city, in one of the wealthier feeder towns, she turned into a luxury hotel lot and parked near the entrance. And though Phoenix wanted to move straight to Edgeworth, he lingered in the car, not quite ready to leave.
They shared a quiet moment watching the last rays of the sun disappear behind the mountains in the distance. An almost tender feeling flowed between the two of them - not awkward, but more of an unspoken acknowledgement of everything that had happened.
"Thank you," he finally said, voice embarrassingly close to cracking, filled with more gratitude than he could express. "For everything."
She reached over and squeezed his hand like she'd done in the hospital. "I'm glad I got to meet you."
Phoenix remembered how he'd been taken with her, when she first showed up at his apartment. Now - well. Things had changed; no point in wondering what could have been. He thought about what Maya would do in a situation like this, and remembered. Leaning across the seat, he pressed a swift kiss to her cheek.
Agent Chase grinned in response. "He's in room 309."
Blushing, Phoenix nodded. "If he doesn't - I mean, if I have to come back…"
She raised her eyebrows, amused. "I'll wait here a while, just in case. But he's not going to turn you away." Almost as an afterthought, she added: "If he does, I really will shoot him."
The trip through the winding hotel, to Edgeworth's room, was a blur. He was distantly aware of fancy décor and expensive-looking fixtures, but he was too caught up in anticipation to really notice. With his fingers gripped tight around his suitcase handle, his heart pounding, and filled with a nervous energy, he stood outside the room and knocked.
Those seconds were the longest of his life.
The door swung open.
--
Author's Notes: Ever since I learned that one of the side effects of rohypnol is memory loss, I knew Phoenix would forget their kiss. But that just made it so that the two of them would have a second first kiss. Ahh, this moment was so satisfying to write!