A/N: This is intended as a sequel to my previous stories, "From Phoenix Wright to Miles Edgeworth" and "Missing Piece," but it's not like those are required reading. Wow. I should probably put all of these in one story instead of constantly adding sequels... but I won't. :) This story is set after Ace Attorney Investigations. Phoenix is disbarred about a month after the final case of AAI, from what evidence I was able to find. Enjoy!

It was a bright day, but the weather hardly reflected Miles' mood as he walked briskly down the sidewalk. Despite the warmth from the sun, the wind created a biting cold, the kind that encouraged people to stay inside on a pretty day. Miles shivered and shoved his hands in his pockets- he didn't give a damn how unrefined he looked.

Roughly one month had passed since his return from Europe. The first week back had been intense; he had been roped into dealing with four murder cases in succession. His fine performance had led to several offers, and he had been swamped with new cases as a result. He had wanted to call Phoenix, of course, but he simply hadn't had the time.

That was what he told himself, at least. If he were to be completely honest with himself, he hadn't gotten in touch with Phoenix because he didn't have the nerve. He was irrationally afraid of Phoenix learning of his true feelings and rejecting him as a friend. Miles was no great liar, so he knew he would have to exercise great caution around the defense attorney.

Former defense attorney.

Miles' right fist was clenched around an article that he had torn out of the morning's newspaper. "Ace Attorney Phoenix Wright Loses Badge," the headline read. The article went on to describe the details of the case, right down to allegations of forgery. There was even a quote from detective Gumshoe, although Miles doubted its accuracy- he knew better than to believe everything he read in the papers. Unfortunately, Gumshoe had confirmed the story for him earlier that morning: Phoenix had been disbarred for forging evidence.

How the hell did this happen? I trusted you, Wright. I trusted you more than anyone.

Miles briskly strode up the sidewalk, approaching the "Wright & Co. Law Office" that he had visited so many times before. Taking a deep breath, he turned the handle and pushed the door open.

Phoenix was there; Miles had expected him to be. He was standing in the corner, organizing sets of files in his bookshelf. Hearing the noise, he turned to face the intruder. His looks were significantly different than Miles had expected. He was wearing a baggy sweatshirt, and his gorgeous spiked hair was disheveled. The red bags around his eyes gave the impression of restlessness and depression, all at once. He was Phoenix, but he wasn't the Phoenix that Miles remembered.

"Edgeworth?"

His voice was hoarse, yet somehow hopeful.

"Wright... what is the meaning of this?" Miles pulled the article out of his pocket and shoved it into his friend's face. Phoenix was silent for a few moments.

"Yeah... that's not how I wanted you to find out. Sorry," he stated somewhat bitterly.

"You... you lost your license to practice law?" Miles asked slowly.

"Yes. It's true. It's all true." The statement seemed rehearsed, as if he had been forced to make this admission several times already.

Miles felt as if a weight had been dropped on him, even though he had already known that the article was true.

"There must be some mistake!" he shouted. "How could you let this happen?"

Phoenix scowled. "You think I wanted this? You think I haven't been feeling like shit all day?" Edgeworth kept glaring at him. "And it's not like you're any help! I found out from Gumshoe yesterday that you've been back for, like, a month. As far as I knew, you were still off in Europe somewhere. What the hell, Edgeworth?" Behind his anger, Phoenix sounded somewhat hurt.

"Don't you dare change the subject, Wright," Miles hissed.

"What do you want me to say?" Phoenix yelled, throwing his hands into the air. Miles noticed that he refrained from raising his voice too loudly.

"I... " Miles stuttered. "Just tell me... why? I mean... forgery, Wright? I knew you were capable of downright stupid tactics for those clients you trust so goddamn much. But forgery?" Miles said slowly, his face twisting into an intimidating glare.

Phoenix laughed humorlessly. "Yes. Forgery. Just like it says in the paper. I know already. Don't you have anything better to do than stand here and remind me? This was really important enough to take time out of your precious work schedule?"

You're the reason I didn't give up on being a prosecutor.

You're the reason I'm HERE right now. It's goddamn well worth my time.

"I can only assume that your client was guilty. You would really go to such lengths to protect a criminal, Wright? I trusted you. I thought you were better than that. Clearly, I was wrong," he spat.

"What do you think, Edgeworth?" he asked. "Do you think I did it? Do you think I personally falsified evidence?"

Well... of course he did, Miles decided sadly. He must have. It would be one thing if the press was spreading rumors about him, but... not the courts. The truth always comes out in the courtroom. Always. If he were innocent, the Wright I knew would not have gone down so easily.

"Yes."

Miles paused as he watched his response sink in.

"...didn't you?" he asked.

Phoenix smiled sadly. "I guess the part about you trusting me was a lie."

"Am I wrong, Wright?"

Phoenix ran a hand through his messy hair. "Whatever. None of it matters now. I screwed up." He half leaned, half sat on his desk, refusing to meet Edgeworth's gaze.

None of it matters? !

"How the hell are you so calm about this?" Miles shouted. Phoenix held a finger up to his lips, but Miles ignored the gesture. "Was any of it true? Or have you been falsifying evidence since the beginning?"

"If it's your perfect win record that you're concerned about, then no, I destroyed that through perfectly legitimate means," Phoenix said darkly, his voice startlingly quiet. "I can't imagine any other reason you would care so much about this. Anyway, would you mind not shouting so loudly in my office?"

Miles' anger threatened to bubble over, and he suppressed an urge to slap Phoenix across the face.

Just then, Miles heard a door creaking open to his right. A small face poked out from behind the door.

"Daddy?"

The child's voice sounded weak and scared. The girl looked to be about seven years old. Her brown hair looked messy, as if she had just woken up from a midday nap. She was wrapped in a large blanket that threatened to drown her as she held it together with one hand.

"Daddy? I heard yelling..."

Wait... 'Daddy'?

Miles was petrified with shock.

So... Wright has a daughter now.

How was that possible?

Could he and Iris have...?

No... this child is six years old at the very least. Although, they were together in college...

Wright never mentioned a daughter... did he know about her?

Miles turned the various possibilities over in his head, each explanation for the girl's existence sounding less and less appealing to him. Any of them meant that Wright had chosen someone to have a child with. It may have been Iris, or Dahlia, or someone else entirely. They may not have intended to have a child, but that didn't change the fact that a girl now existed, and she was calling Phoenix "Daddy."

He had missed out on far too much during his stay in Europe.

Wright had a family now... and that family didn't include him.

"I have to take care of Trucy now," Phoenix interrupted Miles' thoughts. "I'm pretty sure you woke her from her nap. If you wouldn't mind excusing yourself from my office..." he suggested coldly.

Miles turned his back to Phoenix and angrily marched to the door. He slammed it behind him as he left the office, breaking into a jog once he was sure he was out of sight. Tears began flowing from beneath his eyelashes until his eyes were red enough to match Wright's.

The man he loved had been through hell, betrayed his own convictions, and found a new family... and Miles had been the last to know.

Goodbye, Wright.

Miles wiped a tear from his eye as he began the long walk back to the prosecutor's office: he had a job that he needed to get back to.