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One of Every Color	By : Croik Category: +M through R > Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney Views: 5688 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney / Gyakuten
Saiban, its characters and settings, are property of Capcom, and are being used here without permission.� This fic is rated
NC-17 for adult male/male content and some violent material.� C&C welcome and appreciated.

One of Every Color
Chapter 11
Saturday, September
21st, 2019.� 9:28 a.m.

"You can't keep me from
seeing her," Phoenix argued.� He was
growing increasingly frustrated with the guard on duty, and the man's cold,
unimpassioned face wasn't helping any.�
"I'm her attorney.� There's new evidence, and I need to speak to
her."

"I'm afraid I can't do
that," the guard said once more.�
"Miss Gander is in questioning."

"She was in questioning
all of yesterday evening.� What could
they possibly have left to ask her?"

The guard shook his head
stubbornly.� "I'm sorry, Sir, but
I've been ordered not to allow any visitors.�
You're going to have to leave."

Phoenix glared at him, but it didn't seem to be doing any
good.� After fifteen minutes of arguing
he finally gave up and stalked out of the detention center in as poor a mood as
he'd entered it.� How am I supposed to prepare for court on Monday if I can't even talk
to my client? he thought sourly.� I'm not
even sure what this new evidence means.�
He sighed as he made his way back to the bus stop, hoping he hadn't
missed the 9:30.� Was that baby really Chassie's?� She had to have known.� But how could Urami
burn the building down knowing he was in there?�
And why hide it?

Unless�.

Phoenix perked as he noticed the bus approaching, and he
hurried to reach the stop.� Unless Urami
is somehow hiding it from Chassie, too.� If Chassie knew Urami killed her
son, would she still be protecting her?�
There has to be truth in here somewhere.

The bus halted, and Phoenix showed his bus pass and moved to the back.� It was mostly empty but he did hear someone
whisper his name to another passenger.� At
least his fame was going to last a while longer.� Ignoring the eyes on him, Phoenix took a seat.

There is one other person I can ask.� Phoenix pulled out his cell phone and stared at it
distastefully.� If I confront Urami with this new evidence,
she might reveal something.� Or get me
killed.� He rolled his phone back and
forth between his hands as he considered.�
But Edgeworth
said to trust him.� Freeing Chassie is my job.�
Nailing Urami is his.

But�I want to know the truth.

His phone rang, startling Phoenix into almost dropping it.� A quick glance at the display showed a
familiar but unexpected number, and he sat up a little straighter as he
answered.� "Hello?"

"Nick!"� Sure enough, Maya's bright voice rang in his
ear.� "What's going on there?� I just read about you in the news--you're
working for the mob!?"

Phoenix smiled; despite everything, he was ridiculously glad
to hear from her.� "You know it's
not like that.� She's just a
client."

"A
client who works for the mob!?"

Phoenix hadn't realized how much he missed having Maya
around--nothing she said now could bother him.�
"No, Maya, she just got caught up in something too big for
her.� It's turning into�quite a
complicated case."

"Really?� You should
have told me sooner," she pouted at him.�
"I'm not so busy I can't give you a hand, you know."

He was tempted to take her up
on that--another welcomed, familiar face would probably do him a world of good
just about then.� But he remembered
quickly enough just what he was up against.�
If Miles did manage to find anything against Urami,
things could become ugly very quickly, and the last thing he wanted was for
Maya or even Pearl to get involved.�

And Edgeworth is coming over
tonight, he reminded himself,
swallowing back the little flutter in his stomach.� For�dinner.� The thought of having to explain anything
concerning Miles and him to Maya was almost as unappealing.

"It's all right,"
he assured her.� "This case has
some�dangerous people mixed up in it.� I
don't want you to get in trouble for helping me."

"I'm not scared of the
mob," Maya insisted.

"I know, I
know."� Phoenix's grin softened.�
"But�I'm already in pretty deep.�
You know I always appreciate your help, Maya, but this is something I
have to finish on my own.� It's important
to me.� Okay?"

Maya was quiet a moment, and
when she spoke again her voice had lowered somewhat.� "Okay, Nick.� I understand."

"Thanks,
Maya."� She really is growing up, he thought.� "I'm glad you called," he
added.� "It's good to hear from
you.� Maybe once this case is over I'll
come visit you and Pearl in the village."

"It's boring here--we'll come visit you," Maya replied, cheerful once more.� "We'll go out for burgers like old
times, okay?"

"Yeah�yeah, we'll do
that."� Phoenix glanced out the window, taking note of where he
was.� "Listen, my stop's coming
up.� I'll call you once this has all
blown over."

"Sure
thing.� Good luck, Nick!� We'll be rooting for ya."

"Thanks, Maya.� Talk to you soon."

They each hung up, and Phoenix tucked his phone away as the bus turned the corner
towards his stop.� It was only a short
call but he felt energized somehow, with that brief renewed contact.� Edgeworth was right,
he thought as he pushed himself up.� I can't take people for granted--especially
those I care about.�

The bus slowed to a halt, and
Phoenix hopped off along with two others.� And Edgeworth himself, most of all.� I'll
have to be ready for�just about anything tonight.� Damn, what am I going to do until then?� He sat himself down on the bus stop's bench
to collect his thoughts.

Clouds were rolling in off
the horizon, thick and dark and huge.�
Their steady approach was already sending a cold chill into the air, and
Phoenix tugged his jacket closed.� Is that
supposed to be some kind of omen? he thought with
a dry smirk.�

It's not very funny.

*****

Miles stood with his arms
crossed in a corner of the lab as he watched the technician go about her
work.� He could tell he was making her
uncomfortable, but he wasn't about to wait outside for these results.� He wanted to know as soon as possible.

The machine made a dull ping
noise, and at the other end of the room a printer spat out the finished report.� The technician retrieved it hastily and
scanned the page.

"Well?" Miles asked
impatiently.

"We have a match,"
she reported with relief--probably more pleased that Miles would be leaving
than with the actual results.� "The
baby that died in the fire was the son of Jack Hoff and Chassie
Gander."

She handed the paper over for
Miles to see.� He nodded to himself.� "Good.�
Good work."

"Thank you, Sir."

Miles took the report with
him as he exited the lab, and returned to the lobby where Gumshoe was waiting
for him.� He related the news.

"So 'William Gander'
really was her son, huh?" Gumshoe said thoughtfully.� "So what was'e doing with Hoff and Arky?"

"Just because I'm a
prosecutor," Miles replied, "does not mean I understand what a
criminal thinks.� Who knows?"� He tucked the paper into his briefcase as
they turned to head for the door.�
"She tried to keep the birth a secret, so there aren't any records
about the baby, let alone some kind of custody battle.� And she still hasn't cracked to interrogation."

Gumshoe watched him as they walked
to Miles' car.� "Do you�still
believe it was her?" he asked carefully, wary of offending him.� "If the clinic report is real, and her
own son was in the building�she couldn't have started the fire�right�.?"

"I still have another
day to decide what I believe," Miles said, keeping his gaze straight
ahead.� "There's more evidence out
there--I know there is.� We just have to
find it, and put it together."

"If only we knew where
to look�."

Miles smirked at him.� "You're not giving up on me already, are
you, Detective?"

"N-No,
Sir!" Gumshoe was quick to
answer.� "Not at
all!"

"Good.� Because I still need your
help."

They climbed into Miles car,
but before he started the engine Miles paused, frowning to himself.� "Detective�."� He set his hands on the steering wheel,
watching the back of his palm.� "Can
I ask you something?"

"Hm?"� Gumshoe nodded, looking perplexed by Miles'
suddenly cautious tone.� "Sure,
Pal."

"What do you�."� Miles glanced
at him sideways.� "�usually eat for
dinner?"

Gumshoe blinked.� "Dinner?"

"Yes, you know--the meal
after lunch, before dessert.� What do you eat?"

"Um�."� Gumshoe scratched the back of his neck.� "Microwave dinners, I guess.� Hot dogs.� Sometimes I order a pizza�."

Miles frowned.� Phoenix
does buy that cheap beer, so chances are he eats cheap, too.� But I am not
bringing hot dogs or pizza.�
"Let's say you were having dinner with�someone else," Miles
tried again.

"Like a date?"
Gumshoe immediately jumped to conclusions.�
He looked at his companion with something nearing shock.

"No--not a date,"
Miles corrected quickly.� "Just dinner with�a fellow detective or something."� This is
not very convincing.� "What
would you want to eat?"

Gumshoe's brow furrowed in
deep thought, giving much more consideration to the question than Miles thought
was necessary.� "Gee, I dunno, Pal," he finally said.� "When me'nd
the other officers get food, it's usually either at the deli or a bar and grill
kind of joint.� Steaks
and burgers and such."

"I see."� Miles sighed--that wasn't helpful at
all.� "What horrible
nutrition�."

Gumshoe shrugged
helplessly.� "Uh�sorry?"

"Never
mind."� Miles started up the car and buckled his seat
belt.� "One of these days, I'm going
to take you out for real food, Gumshoe.�
Your life expectancy will thank me."

"Oh, um, all right!� Sounds great, Pal."

They pulled out of the
parking lot and merged into traffic, heading back towards the police station.

I guess I'll just have to think of something myself�.

*****

Just after five in the
evening, Miles called to ask what Phoenix would like for dinner.

He sounded rather irritated
about something, so Phoenix didn't argue when Italian was suggested.� Miles assured he would be on time and hung
up.

Phoenix then went back to what he'd been up to all afternoon:
cleaning his apartment from top to bottom.�
He didn't normally entertain company, but he had decided he might as
well make the effort to look presentable.�
It had turned out to be a more strenuous endeavor than he'd had in
mind--every surface in the apartment needed to be dusted, and every window was
hopelessly spotted.� He hadn't vacuumed
in so long he'd forgotten the thing was broken anyway.� At the store he settled for a carpet sweeper
and did the best he could.�

This last hour of
preparation, however, he devoted to wardrobe.�
He could think of few things more emasculating than standing in front of
his bathroom mirror, changing in and out of the few decent shirts he
owned.� I feel like a teenage girl, he thought with a dry wince as he put
the blue one on again.� Does everyone have such a hard time with
this?� I'm sure Edgeworth
puts too much thought into his clothes.�
Probably has a full length vanity and everything.

Phoenix hadn't officially dated since college, back when he
couldn't really afford nice clothes anyway.�
He had gone with Mia to lunch a few times, to grab a bite to eat while
talking over court strategies, or sometimes even to meet a friend of hers in
their same profession; but it was always work related, and he always wore his
suit.� This non-date scenario was,
therefore, rather new to him, and he had no idea what would be deemed
appropriate.

Do I wear a tie?� Phoenix pursed his lips at his reflection.� He
wasn't wearing his cravat the last time he came over.� But then, he was half in disguise then, or
something, I guess.

Phoenix agonized over his choice for a while longer, and
finally decided he should try to look nice.�
He picked a blue dress shirt and navy slacks, darker than he usually
wore.� Ten minutes before Miles was
supposed to arrive he added a tie.

Date or not, it's still two people sharing dinner, he reasoned as he moved through the apartment one
last time.� I should look�nice, right?

Phoenix nearly jumped out of his skin when the doorbell rang.� "C-Coming!"� He checked his hair one last time for
spikiness and hurried to open the door.

Miles stared back at him
through the open doorway.� He had come
dressed far more casually, in khaki pants and a pale pink button-down
shirt.� He glanced over Phoenix with a raised eyebrow and then smirked.� "I'm not taking you to prom, you
know."

Phoenix blushed darkly in embarrassment.� "Are you coming in or what?"

Miles' lips parted in a grin
as he stepped inside, handing Phoenix one of the large brown paper bags he'd brought with
him.� "You cleaned," he noted,
glancing about on his way toward the kitchen.�
"It looks good in here."

"Gee, thanks."� Phoenix elbowed the door shut, and used one hand to remove
his tie as he followed.� He tossed it moodily
on a chair.� "Not like I was at it
all day or anything."� As annoyed as
he felt with himself for overdressing--and Miles for commenting on it--he had
to admit, it was better than feeling awkward and shy.� He set the bag on the kitchen table and
headed for the cupboards for dishes.

"Oh?� I'm flattered."

"Well�the place needed
it anyway."� Phoenix rolled his eyes and pulled out a pair of plates.� "What did you end up bringing?"

"Lasagna."� Miles started
emptying the bags, and the smell of meat and cheese quickly filled the small
kitchen and started Phoenix's mouth watering.�
"I know a good carry-out place not far from here.� There's bread and salad, too."

Wow, a full course meal.� Phoenix's irritation quickly faded in light of a real dinner.� "You must really like Italian," he
remarked as he dug out some silverware, remembering that Miles had been cooking
spaghetti the last time he was over.

Mile shrugged.� "It heats up well," he
explained.� "I usually make a lot
and eat the leftovers for lunch at work.�
But Lasagna is too much effort to feed one person, so I only eat it when
I dine out."

Miles pulled a bottle of wine
out of one of the bags; Phoenix
blinked at it in surprise.� "You
brought wine?"

"To
repay you for the beer last time."� Miles smiled as he retrieved a
corkscrew for it.

"That looks�a little
more expensive than the beer I brought�"

Miles shrugged, pleased with
himself.� "I figured you could use
some real alcohol for once."

Phoenix rolled his eyes again, but he was honestly curious--it
had been a long time since he'd had real wine.�
"I�don't have any wine glasses," he remembered suddenly.

"No?"� Miles frowned, for a moment looking honestly
troubled.� "Well, I suppose anything
will do."

As he uncorked the bottle, Phoenix turned back to his cupboard, scanning the shelves for
the closest he could find.� He didn't own
that many glasses.� Living alone usually
led to him drinking from cartons or cans instead of bothering with a cup, and
those he did still have were cheap, plastic things his parents had gotten him
for college.� After a bit of digging he unearthed
one of the tall promotional cups Maya had insisted on getting during a lunch
trip.

"Here."� Phoenix set a pair on the table in front of Miles.� "Use those."

Miles stared at them for
nearly a full fifteen seconds, his brow furrowing.� Finally he picked one up as carefully as if
it might bite him.� He looked to Phoenix.� "You
want to drink red wine out of a plastic Steel Samurai cup?"

"Why
not?"� Phoenix set out the rest of the dishes and tossed the bags
into the trash.� "I thought you were
a big fan."

Miles opened his mouth, then paused, finding himself speechless.� He was still frowning as he poured the wine
into the cups.

"I almost have a full
set," Phoenix added, his tone bright and teasing.

"They're�great."

Phoenix grinned to himself as they both sat and began
dividing up the food.� The uncommonly
casual banter between them was slowly erasing all his worries from the
day.� As far apart as they'd grown since
childhood, there was still something comforting about being in Miles' presence.

"You really went all
out," Phoenix complimented.�
He took a sip of the wine, and despite not figuring himself stuffy
enough for such expensive tastes, he found he rather liked it.� Even if it was out of a plastic Steel Samurai
collector's cup.� "This couldn't
have been cheap.� I thought you said you
don't date."

"I don't," Miles
replied easily.� He paused for a bite of
salad before continuing.� "I just
brought carryout and repaid you for the alcohol the other night.� A date would be us going out for Italian, or to a movie, or down to the beach."� He smirked.�
"And I would have worn a tie."

Phoenix's cheeks reddened again.� "I thought I looked fine."

"You do.�
It's�charming."

Charming?� Phoenix wasn't sure if Miles was making fun of him again, but
he didn't mind.� It was good to see him
so relaxed.� "Then I'm surprised you
didn't come in your jeans again," he said.�
"You know, I didn't think you would even own a pair until I saw
them."

"They are my only pair," Miles
admitted.� "I only wear them when I
don't really want to be recognized."

"Does it work?"

"Sometimes."

Phoenix hummed thoughtfully as he stabbed into the
lasagna.� Everything was delicious, so
much more filling and refreshing than the box dinners and fast food he was used
to.� "Do you really get that much
attention as a prosecutor that you have to�go in disguise?"

"Don't you?"� Miles turned his cup, reading the bits of
dialogue along the sides.� When he
noticed Phoenix watching him he quickly tried to look uninterested in
it.� "I would have thought by now
the paparazzi would be banging your door down."

"At the office,
maybe," Phoenix admitted.�
"They don't usually come by here.�
I guess the apartment's not exciting enough for them."

"They might after this
case, for as high profile as it is."

"Yeah�."� Phoenix took another bite of his dinner as he considered that
particular topic.� Tonight they were
supposed to be relaxing, and�talking, about each other.� He didn't want to interrupt these long-awaited
personal moments with discussion about the trial to which they were inevitably returning.� But at the same time, he was still uneasy
concerning the evidence Miles had uncovered the other day.� If Chassie had been
in questioning all day, chances were Miles had gotten something out of her.

When the two of us work together, there's no truth we
can't uncover, Phoenix thought as he busied himself with eating.� We should work together.� It's best for everyone.

Phoenix sat up a little straighter.� "Hey, Edgeworth�."

"After dinner,"
Miles told him, as if having read his mind perfectly.� He took another sip of wine.� "Let's just enjoy dinner, and then I'll
tell you everything I know."

Relieved that he understood, Phoenix nodded.� "All right."�
We're still working on this one
together.� That's how it should be.

They returned to lighter
topics as the meal slowly diminished.
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One of Every Color