pressure (pushing down on me)

turnabout goodbyes

IV.

December 25, 2016

Maya insists on coming along in a streak of stubbornness he doesn't have the patience to rally against. If Edgeworth's been arrested, the last thing he'll want to do is see two people he's failed to convict for murder, but deep down Phoenix can't bring himself to care.

Larry drops by with a car—evidently not Regina's, "Jeez, Nick, we broke up weeks ago, I'm dating Kiyance now! You'll love her, she's a model and a surfing instructor"—and tries to make anxious conversation about Edgeworth the entire drive over. Phoenix stares out the window, mind spinning too much to absorb his babbling commentary.

Last night...Gourd Lake Park...a shooting on Christmas Eve...His brain is already spitting out possible arguments, court ready. Edgeworth is a prosecutor and a servant of the justice system, there's no way he owns a gun, and even if he was a killer he would never be careless enough to leave any incriminating evidence behind—Okay, maybe that last point is something he should keep to himself.

They get to the detention center in less than a half hour, and when they arrive, he has to stop himself at the door. What if Edgeworth already has a lawyer?

I'm an idiot, he thinks, half mortified and half annoyed. Obviously, he could, he shouldn't have just rushed over here the second he realized what happened, Edgeworth has to have a ton of peers in the profession willing to represent him—

On the other side of the law? A voice pipes up in his ear. He thinks about it. Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth. The bane of every defense attorney's existence.

Maybe it's worth checking, just in case. He frowns and reaches for the entrance door, stepping inside, and he collides immediately with a very broad chest.

"Ow."

"Whoa, where's the fire, pal—"

Phoenix stumbles back holding his nose, and peers upward into the stubbly face of Detective Dick Gumshoe. The confused apology on the detective's face suddenly saps away, leaving him staring down at Phoenix with an uncharacteristically grave look on his face.

"It's you," he says, and the serious look on Gumshoe's face disintegrates into what can only be relief. "Finally."

Phoenix yelps as without warning, the detective hooks him around the elbow. "Come on, pal, he's in interview room two. I'll let you in myself!"

"I—Detective," he squawks, exchanging a frantic look with Maya as he's forcibly dragged along the hallway.

"If anybody can do this, it's you, pal," Gumshoe says, and the tone of his voice draws Phoenix's eyebrows together. "You can get him to talk, I just know it." He turns to beam at Phoenix like he's not physically hauling him across the floor. "You're really good to do this, you know!"

Gumshoe waves at a fellow officer and they pass through a gated door, and Phoenix's feet squeak over the tile as he struggles to find balance beneath the lumbering detective's iron grip. "Detective, really, I—"

"We're here," Gumshoe announces. "I'll tell them there's a visitor on my way out." He drops Phoenix's arm abruptly enough to make him stumble and windmill. The detective turns to lock eyes with him, amber eyes strangely intense. "Look, I'm headin' to the crime scene to investigate. You take care of the legal end, alright? If I find anything, I'll let you know. I ran your cell phone number earlier!"

That's a little unsettling, Phoenix thinks, and he lifts a finger, mouth open to say as much, but Gumshoe straightens his broad shoulders. "Thanks for this, you two. I won't forget it, I swear!" And just like that, the detective charges off, leaving him and Maya staring at his retreating green back.