Blood from the Clean
Genre: Drama, Angst
Pairings: Phoenix/Miles, Klavier/Apollo
Notes: Based off a request from the kink meme.
The phone rang ten minutes before three in the morning. It wasn't that unusual in this line of work, people that broke the law didn't care for business hours. "Edgeworth here," Miles answered on the second ring, keeping the drowsiness to a minimum.
"Ah, Mr. Edgeworth," the other voiced seemed unprepared by the quick response. "I'm at a crime scene, sir and... well..."
"Well what?" Edgeworth snapped loosing his patience a bit. He could hear Gumshoe practically squirm. "Sorry. Go on."
"I think you need to come over, sir."
"Do you have a suspect in custody? Is it a murder?"
"No, sir..." Gumshoe lowered his voice. "We believe it's a suicide, sir."
"Then why are you calling me?" Edgeworth glared. He was going to have a serious talk with the detective about this.
"It's Mr. Wright, sir."
The world froze. "Ex- excuse me?" Edgeworth was still too tired. It was the lack of sleep. Surely he'd heard wrong.
"I'm at Mr. Wright's place, sir. Someone called the police about an hour ago and-"
"Don't say it!" Edgeworth was sitting up now, hand covering his eyes. He took a deep breath. "I apologize. I'll be right there." He hung up the phone and got dressed. He doesn't remember leaving the apartment, or getting in his car, or driving for that matter. When he got to Phoenix's building there was only two marked police cars there. He took the stairs two at a time, arriving a little breathless to the tenth floor.
"Mr. Edgeworth!" Gumshoe exclaimed, surprised to see him so soon.
Edgeworth froze for a moment. Finally coming to realization that he was actually in front of Phoenix's apartment and that indeed there was that yellow tape blocking the entrance to the it. It all became very surreal after that. He tried to go into the apartment and Gumshoe and another policeman stopped him.
"I don't think that's a good idea, sir." Gumshoe said.
"Why?" Edgeworth said through gritted teeth. "You called me here didn't you? This is my-"
"We needed to call next of kin and well..." Gumshoe scratched the corner of his head. "We couldn't find how to contact Mr. Wright's family, or the Fey's for that matter and... actually... you were the only contact on Mr. Wright's cell phone."
"What?" Edgeworth was dumbstruck by that. Because it was impossible. "You said it was a suicide right?" he asked in a lowered voice.
"Yes, we are pretty sure it is."
"Pretty sure?" Edgeworth was glaring again. "That isn't good enough. Let me see him."
Gumshoe seemed to understand that no matter what, Edgeworth wasn't backing down. "Ok, pal, but I think I should warn you as Mr. Wright's friend, it's pretty bad in there. Actually I..." Gumshoe's detective face faltered for a second. "I was Mr. Wright's friend too."
"Let me see him," Edgeworth ordered.
Gumshoe nodded. "Officer, Wyman, could you please go to the car and bring the report papers? We should start filling them out."
Edgeworth didn't wait for the young police officer to disappear from the corner of the hallway before making his way to Phoenix's apartment. The last five steps were the hardest, because inwardly Edgeworth still had the slight hope that this was all a horrible nightmare. But as he glanced into the apartment he saw the blood, could even smell it. This was all very real. He stepped inside, holding his breath.
Phoenix's body was in the middle of the living room. A couple of items were askew about, some thrown in the floor, but nothing that couldn't be attributed to a messy apartment. And yes, there was indeed a gun not too far away from Phoenix's hand. And yet it was all wrong. This wasn't right. Edgeworth couldn't exactly explain how he knew, but he knew.
He closed his eyes. "I want you to call reinforcements, detective."
"Hm?" Gumshoe jumped, surprised. "Why, sir?"
"Because this isn't a suicide, detective. This is a murder scene."
Gumshoe's eyes widened a bit. "Right away, sir!" he said almost excitedly and half ran out of the apartment.
Edgeworth thought it was such a Gumshoe thing not to question him. It was also a Gumshoe thing to leave him alone in the apartment when five minutes earlier he was so intent in accompanying him. Edgeworth's eyes fixed on the body. The body. A body. Dead. Phoenix was dead.
Miles was going to be sick. He barely made it to the alley behind the building, his dinner now a mess in a corner. His body wouldn't cooperate with him, his legs gave way and he collapsed to his knees, gripping the wall for support. He opened his mouth, taking one deep breath after the other slowly. It was like trying to learn how to breathe. He just needed to breathe.
It was an hour before he could go back to the apartment.