(Please read author's note)

A/N: My first Ace Attorney fic as well as the first story I'm working on since graduation. It's my new personal challenge story, where I write a chapter a day. Likely it will be a 30 day challenge, possibly longer if I feel it's needed. Or shorter, if the story comes to a natural conclusion before then.

So~ A little note about the AU part of this tale. The timeline? Yeah, post A1, events will be skewed for the sake of plot. The purpose of this story isn't to elaborate on canon, but to explore certain concepts I found deeply curious when playing the games. Any readers of my previous work will be familiar with my taste for angst and dystopian themes.

In the end, this is a romance.

Without further delay, let the challenge begin!

Flicker

By Catsitta

.1.

The gavel struck like lightning through the courtroom. Guilty was the verdict that thundered. Phoenix would never forget this moment. It marked his first loss...and it placed an innocent man on death row. He heard nothing after the judge announced the prosecution the victor. Not even the terrified accusations made by his client as the bailiff dragged the writhing man away. The room exploded into confused chatter as onlookers witnessed the rookie defense attorney face defeat after a two year winning streak. Phoenix was deaf to the chaos as he blindly pushed out of the courtroom, stumbling like a drunkard as the realization of what just occurred consumed him.

He lost. Phoenix never took a case where he wasn't one hundred percent sure of his client's innocence. This time was no different. All the evidence, all the testimony, it shouted not guilty. Yet here he stood in the aftermath, a murderer due to failure. What went wrong? Edgeworth should have never been able to salvage that case, much less turn it completely upside down in his favor. When it came to turnabout, Phoenix was renowned for flipping the tables, making connections and weaving stories that few others ever understood.

It was because of him that a number of prosecutors lost their perfect record of a guilty verdict. It was because of him that a giant knot of corruption exposed itself in the form of Manfred Von Karma, Chief Officer Gant and Chief Prosecutor Skye. He was practically a hero in California in the world of law!

Phoenix ran both hands through black, spiky hair. The nervous gesture did little to flatten the naturally unruly locks.

"I...I lost..."

His heart twisted in his chest until it was a pulsing tangle. He needed out of here. Fresh air. Yes. He needed fresh air!

The defense attorney broke into a run, pushing anyone between him and the front doors of the courthouse out of his way. When the heavy oak barrier was within reach, he flung it open with considerable force and staggered outside. As scuffed dress shoes met the first step, Phoenix noticed something.

Rain.

Strength abandoned him in a gasp. He sagged against the metal railing splitting the stairs down the center, hands clutching fruitlessly at cold steel. The rain fell in a steady tempo, blurring the world out of focus like a faulty zoom on a camera. Every drop that crashed into him was an icy knife—cutting, splitting, punishing. He half expected to see crimson puddling at his feet. What a strange thought. Murdered by rain.

A harsh bark of laughter escaped Phoenix's throat.

He trembled.

The child inside him wanted to drop to his knees and cry. It wanted to scream and beg and rip at its clothes like this was a bad dream.

But Phoenix did nothing of the sort. He remained standing. The only water that inched down his cheeks came from the sky above. He clenched a hand around the railing. His shoddy blue suit was becoming heavy, the fabric clinging and dripping with foreign weight. So much for dry clean only.

"Chief. I...I wish you were here," he murmured. Mia Fey, his long since passed mentor, would know what to do. She lost cases before, not many, but some. With Maya away training to become a master spirit medium, no one was around to channel her. She couldn't offer advice. Condolences. A proper scolding. Phoenix scoffed. No doubt Mia would try to shake some sense into him. Standing in the rain and moping like a kicked puppy didn't change the the verdict.

Was this how all those prosecutors felt when he shattered their records? Phoenix recalled the devastation writ on their faces, anger intermixed with disbelief. They were supposed to work together, in a strange way, to reveal the deeper truth. Guilty, innocent, whatever the verdict—it was the responsibility of both parties to bring justice.

He wiped his face with the back of his palm.

That last train of thought sounded suspiciously like Edgeworth.

Phoenix gritted his teeth.

What happened to bringing the truth to light? They had a couple cases in which they realized the defendant was not guilty and worked together from both sides of the courtroom to discover the real culprit. It was a magnificent volley. The newspapers featured any trial in which they faced off. This time, they would gossip about beginner's luck fading fast and the return of the ruthless Demon Prosecutor who would do anything to win a trial.

"I know defense attorneys are not payed as well as prosecutors, but I am certain you can afford a proper shower at home, Wright."

Phoenix whipped around. Standing beneath the overhang was his childhood friend and courtroom rival, Miles Edgeworth. He clenched both fists and allowed them to drop to his sides. Anger surged from his knotted belly into his throat, scouring it with the urge to scream 'objection!' They were no longer in session. Nothing either said would change a thing. Phoenix swallowed, feeling ill.

Grey eyes met blue, the former placid, the latter roiling with emotion.

Edgeworth look so perfect. Not a single wrinkle in his magenta suit. Not a single crease of his white cravat out of place. Even his dark hair, dusted with premature grey that looked silver in the right light, remained in the same neat style as always. In one hand he held an expensive, Italian leather briefcase, filled with notes for the latest case. In the other was a cheap paper Dixie cup that looked straight out of the defendant lounge. Hanging from an elbow was a folded black umbrella.

"You will catch a cold standing out there," Edgeworth motioned for Phoenix to step beneath the overhang. "Don't be foolish, Wright."

Legs leaden, the defense attorney complied, stiffly shuffling to stand in front of his rival. Edgeworth adverted his eyes for a moment before holding out the Dixie cup, expression unreadable. Phoenix stared at the offering, wondering what the man was playing at, what angle he was trying to pull apart. The prosecutor didn't do this sort of thing. Unless Phoenix outright chased him down after a trial, Edgeworth left without a single word spoken or glance spared.

Yet here he was, holding out a paper cup, as if he wasn't the reason an innocent man was dead.

Phoenix's arm extended as if he were a marionette on a string and shaking fingers closer around the proffered cup. It was warm. He brought it close. It was full of coffee.

"I assume you still smother everything in sugar," Edgeworth said, dropping his arm to his side, umbrella sliding into a now open palm.

A reflexive clench of his fist made steaming coffee gush all over Phoenix's fingers, scalding his knuckles a raw pink. Edgeworth inhaled sharply and struck a familiar, uncertain pose. Umbrella dangling from his wrist, he clutched his left arm with his right hand, head turned to the side. Phoenix dropped the cup, burnt fingers uncurling as cold air kissed inflamed skin. He should probably go wash his hands and bandage them. Blisters would make writing uncomfortable.

Suddenly, Edgeworth was glaring at him with the force of the demon he was called.

"Wright! You are acting like a child."

"Why don't you go back to giving me the silent treatment?" Phoenix shot back. "You seem perfectly happy ignoring me for months at a time. Go ahead. Just leave me alone."

Everyone left him in the end. Even Edgeworth.

"The verdict is decided. You cannot change it by sulking in the rain."

"Ha! Says the man who tried to fake his own death. What would you have done if I hadn't caught you leaving your office?"

"I was almost disbarred for presenting false evidence in a trial! My whole belief system had been ripped out from under me, Wright."

"So you leave a suicide note?" Phoenix choked out a harsh laugh. They never really spoke much about that day, shortly after Lana Skye's trial. Between them, they turned the whole trial around and discovered who the real murderer was, and that Skye was blackmailed into becoming an accomplice. Then Edgeworth, still raw from getting accused of murder and the betrayal of a father figure, was pushed to his brink by the corruption all around him.

Phoenix found him slinking out of the Prosecution Building muttering about how many innocents possibly died because of him. He actually cried in his arms that night. An impromptu search for Edgeworth turned into an accidental foiling of a grand escape to Europe. The man never spoke about that night. He just took leave for three months, locking himself away in his condo, before returning to court as if nothing happened.

He turned away phone calls, ignored emails and refused to answer the door, no matter how much Phoenix begged. His friend shut him out, and barely said a willing word to him since.

"This...this isn't relevant to the matter at hand," Edgeworth groused. He heavy sigh escaped and he tightened his fingers around the objects he held. "You lost today. A man you believed innocent was proven guilty. I understand that you must feel...distressed."

Phoenix wanted to punch him in the face, "He was innocent! How could you not see that he didn't kill that woman? The real murderer is out there while an innocent man is...is...dead! One trial. One verdict. He was found guilty of murder and we both know what that penalty is."

The system was corrupt. Backwards. No jury. No retrial. Just three days to prove guilt or innocence, and the guilty rarely saw prison for very long. You kill someone. You are put to death. That sentence is difficult to avoid even if self-defense is proven. Only a not guilty verdict guaranteed a life was safe.

"I am well aware of the penalty, Wright."

"Then why?"

Edgeworth opened his umbrella.

"It is the job of prosecution to find a defendant guilty. It is yours to prove them not. I did my job."

And you failed yours.

Phoenix watched the man descend the steps. A valet had already brought his shiny red sports car around to the front. Camera's flashed as he ducked into the driver's seat. A huddle of plastic wrapped news reporters tried to catch one last shot of the famed prosecutor before he drove away.

tbc

A/N: (Thanks for reading. Please review! Comments, questions and suggestions are love. Until tomorrow!)

Minor edits: 06-08-16