The Ties That Bind

Chapter Seven: Miles Edgeworth, Genius Defense Attorney?

February 8, Hotti Clinic, ICU, 12:00 PM

With great trepidation, Miles headed towards the patient room he'd been directed to by the nurse in the Intensive Care Unit. How he hated hospitals! They were third on his aversion list, right after earthquakes and elevators. To him they only symbolized pain and death and the pungent smell of the place always made him queasy. He tended to avoid them like the plague. How was it he was forced to return to this dreadful place for the second time in less than a year, both times for people he desperately cared for and couldn't imagine his life without?

Of course, he'd rather die than tell that to Wright. If his friend ever found out that he'd chartered a private jet right after he'd gotten Butz's hysterical late night call, he'd surely tease him mercilessly.

He turned the doorknob and entered Phoenix's room, absently noting the simple furnishings: a wooden table on the left of the stretcher, a couple of chairs on either side of the bed and a glass sliding window with a view of the outside of the buildings surrounding the hospital.

Of course, what had his full attention was the sight of the coughing, spiky-haired man sitting up in the bed, hunched over and frowning at the laptop in front of him.

Humph! Miles thought, simultaneously relieved and peeved. While the patient doesn't look to be in any condition to be making fun of anything, he most surely also doesn't look like he's knocking on heaven's door, the way that histrionic buffoon Butz led me to believe!

Surprise was stamped across Phoenix's features as he looked up then and saw his friend standing in the doorway. He started to speak, but suddenly his body began to shake as he went into a coughing fit. Winded with exhaustion, he flopped back down on his pillow and silently waved at Miles in welcome.

"Wright." Miles nodded in greeting, even as he stifled the urge to hug – and possibly then throttle – his friend for nearly giving him a coronary.

But of course, being a logical man of law, he would never commit such an action, for it would be done purely in vain.

After all, they were in a hospital, with resuscitating equipment!

"Edgeworth!" Phoenix's dark blue eyes were the size of saucers as he stared at him. "What are you doing here? I thought you and Franziska were happily shacked up in Europe!"

"Working international investigations and for Interpol – not at the same residence! – should anyone else ever ask," Miles said wryly. "That insider information is strictly for you and Miss Fey's knowledge only, thank you."

"Whatever you say, buddy." Phoenix nodded solemnly, well aware of how he and Franziska were with their jealously guarded privacy.

"Anyhow, to answer your question, Wright, I took a break from said duties because I was awakened in the middle of the night by a phone call from a hysterical friend of ours who led me to believe that you were on the brink of death."

Phoenix's shoulders drooped as he grimaced. "Let me guess...this friend wouldn't happen to occasionally be referred to as Harry Butz now, would he?"

"Yes, although the man of many names rather insistently informed me that he now wants to be known as Laurice Deauxnim." Miles lips twitched with amusement.

"Heh, heh...there's a bit of a story to that. I have quite a bit to get you caught up on. Why don't you pull up a chair?"

As Miles sat down, he noticed, for the first time, the Demon Warding hood tossed carelessly at the foot of the bed.