By the time Phoenix Wright arrived at the crime scene the police had already left, and he was starting to curse public transport as his quick eyes took in the unlit windows and frontage of the concert hall. But as he rounded the corner of the adjacent building he spotted a familiar crimson-clad figure standing by the side-door in deep conversation with the manager.

"Edgeworth!" Phoenix huffed, as he slowed to a walk, rubbing his ribs and pulling a face at the sharp jab of stitch in his side.

The prosecutor looked up with mild surprise, which turned to disdain as his gaze swept over the defence attorney, taking in his ruffled and out-of-breath appearance.

"Wright. I didn't think we were going to have the pleasure of your company today."

"I was with my client. At the detention centre. Bus was late." Breathlessly.

Edgeworth looked at his watch, and his eyebrows twitched in slight irritation. To his credit, there wasn't a trace of it in his voice. "Well, since you're here, you may as well have a look around. I'm sure Mr Ivries won't mind." It wasn't really a question, and Ivries didn't look too enthralled at the prospect, but it was rare that Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth didn't get his way. The concert hall manager nodded.

Phoenix sagged with relief, having neither the time nor the bus fare to spare on a wasted journey.

The manager unlocked the side door, and to Phoenix's surprise, Edgeworth stepped in first.

"Weren't you, um, on your way out?"

"Astutely observed. As you can see, now I am on my way in again." The prosecutor's face was impassive.

"You don't have to stay, Edgeworth. I only want to look round so I can get a feel for where it happened."

Edgeworth looked at him directly. "It's still a crime scene, Wright, and the police have left. Someone needs to keep an eye on you."

"Afraid I might see something I shouldn't?" He sounded as annoyed as he felt. That was unfair. Ever since he came back from Europe he's been different. But if Edgeworth heard it in his voice he gave no sign, but merely continued leading the way down the corridor towards a large swing door.

"The actual murder took place in the dressing room, but you might want to have a look round the stage area first. The accused gave a performance immediately before the incident took place, so this was the last location that he was seen in." The prosecutor pushed the door open and held it until Phoenix squeezed past. The slight rub of his dress suit against Edgeworth's wool-clad arm as he did so made the defence attorney feel uncomfortable. Being in close proximity to Edgeworth rarely felt appropriate – especially since his disappearance and reappearance. Their relationship had changed in that time, frozen back into a professional one with no hint of the brief glimmer of open friendship that had followed Edgeworth's acquittal on the charge of murder. These days, it's like being in the same room as a particularly critical headmaster.

But as Phoenix stepped forward into the wings and the lights flickered into life his thoughts about Edgeworth vanished, overwhelmed by the impressive grand piano that dominated the middle of the stage directly in his line of sight.

"Wow," he said simply, pausing briefly before walking towards it for a better view. He looked beyond, but the lights were still off in the auditorium so the quiet echo of his voice only suggested its vastness.

Being back on a stage felt weird, but at the same time good, and Phoenix couldn't resist turning towards the supposed audience and making a sweeping bow in their general direction.

"Very theatrical." Edgeworth was standing by the piano, arms crossed, with a slightly amused expression on his face. "Are you going to impress us with a recital? Personally I am quite fond of Albinoni's Adagio in G Minor."

Was that a joke? Phoenix ventured a smile. "I don't think my piano-playing abilities are quite up to that, unfortunately."

Edgeworth's eyebrow arched. "What?"

"What?"What did I say now?

"You play the piano?" There was a distinct tone of disbelief behind the words that made Phoenix bristle slightly. Is it so hard for him to believe I achieved anything in my life while he was in Germany studying to be the next Von Karma?

"Well – yeah … not well or anything. My Mom paid for lessons when I was in high school. After I told her I wanted to major in performing arts. I thought it would be good to at least have an idea of music – learn to read it, get a feel for melody and harmony and understand how it all fits together to …" His voice trailed off as he looked at Edgeworth, who was giving him a look that suggested he may have grown an extra head.

"Is there no beginning to your talents, Wright?" The prosecutor said, finally, a distinct smirk crossing his face.

"I wasn't that bad, actually. I suppose that you had to learn a proper instrument - like the tuba."

Edgeworth gave him a blank look.

"You know – oom pah pah." Phoenix slapped his thigh roguishly in emulation of a Bavarian beer-hall musician and then stifled a laugh as an image of Edgeworth wearing lederhosen flashed across his mind.

Edgeworth's expression went from blank to confused. "Are you quite insane? What on earth are you trying to imply?"

"… You have no idea what I'm talking about, do you?"

"That's hardly an unusual state of affairs, Wright."

An awkward pause followed as Phoenix debated the best way to explain the joke.Christ - he's bloody hard work, sometimes.

But it was Edgeworth that broke the silence. "Actually I don't have any artistic abilities whatsoever. It wasn't exactly a priority in my education. I'm sure Manfred would have considered it a waste of my time and his money." He sounded slightly bitter, and Phoenix felt awkward for having raised the subject at all.

The defence attorney crossed the stage to stand at the opposite side of the grand piano to Edgeworth. "I could show you. If you like," he said impulsively.

"Don't be ridiculous, Wright – this is a crime scene."

"Somehow I don't think the piano did it. Lighten up, will you?"

Phoenix made a show of flipping up the back of his suit jacket to sit on the long stool that faced the piano. He could tell that the visual joke had absolutely no meaning to Edgeworth. Half of him wanted to laugh at the man's complete lack of cultural references but at the same time he couldn't help a tinge of sadness for the things that Edgeworth had apparently been denied growing up. I can't even imagine what the world looks like to him sometimes.

Phoenix admired the smooth, lacquered wood of the lid. This is worlds away from the small upright my teacher had. He could see his face reflected in the cared-for surface and it was with some reverence that he lifted the lid, exhaling softly as he did so at the smoothness of the hinges and solid feel of the timber.

Settling back slightly on the stool he ran his long fingers gently over the keys, calling all those childhood lessons back to mind, trying to recall to himself the correct position of the hands, the bend of the fingers, the location of the keys.

He'd forgotten about Edgeworth, until the prosecutor's voice broke into his thoughts.

"Have you forgotten how?" He couldn't tell if Edgeworth was being sarcastic or if it was a genuine question, but it irked him anyway.

"I'm just deciding what to play."

"I had no idea your repertoire would be so extensive."

Oh fuck off, Edgeworth.

Tentatively Phoenix shaped his left hand to the correct notes and played a chord. It felt good. He played another, and a memory of a tune popped into his head. A smile flickered across his face as he remembered playing for his mother. His right hand moved to the keys almost automatically and his smile increased with his confidence as he remembered just the right harmonies, the right key, and the associations with his childhood.

As the strains of "The Blue Danube" filled the stage Phoenix felt his heart soar. I'd forgotten how much fun this was. He wasn't note-perfect, and he fumbled some of the variations, but it didn't matter. The music was happy, he was happy and as he glanced up, grinning from ear to ear, Edgeworth was … smiling?

It was enough of a shock to break the spell and still the defence attorney's fingers in a discordant twang of keys. When he looked up again the prosecutor's face was once more impassive. Maybe I imagined it.

"Strauss? I'm impressed."

"He makes good jeans as well."

"Very funny. I hope that was a joke?" Edgeworth frowned.

Phoenix pulled a face. "You know, you really are a jerk sometimes." But there was no heat behind the words.

"You do know you were playing all the wrong notes?"

Great – now he's Miles Edgeworth, Music Critic "Actually, I was playing all the right notes... just not necessarily in the right order." Phoenix grinned again. He won't get that joke either. "I never said I was good. And you said you couldn't play at all. Do you want me to show you, or not?" He shuffled along the stool to make room for the prosecutor.

"I feel slightly foolish." Regardless, Edgeworth did move to take up the space on the other side of the bench to Phoenix's right, but it was somewhat awkward, as the stool did not allow enough room for much space between them.

The discomfort that Phoenix had felt earlier returned, and he could feel the stiffness of Edgeworth's posture without even looking. This was a bad idea.

"Uh - you need to relax," he remarked.

"So everyone tells me."

Phoenix couldn't prevent a smile sneaking across his face at that and he ventured a sideways look. "No Edgeworth, I mean before you play."

The prosecutor met his eyes for a second - a brief, slightly conflicted look that Phoenix couldn't read, before skirting away to fix pointedly on the piano keyboard where his right hand was tentatively brushing over the keys.

Phoenix took a deep breath. Great. What am I doing, again? "Okay. Hold your hand like this," he demonstrated. "No no, you need to keep your wrist level." Phoenix leaned over and slipped his fingers under Edgeworth's wrist to adjust the position. Immediately skin touched skin he felt the prosecutor's body tense, sending a strange trickle of shock up his own arm. "Sorry." Phoenix pulled his hand back as if he'd been stung. I forgot how closely he guards his personal space.

He could almost hear the silent exhalation as Edgeworth relaxed again. This is going to be fun. But whether Phoenix had offended the prosecutor or not, his wrist stayed in the correct position, and his gaze was fixed on Phoenix's own hand, copying the position of the fingers. Phoenix was amused at the rapt attention. No wonder he's so smart if this is what he was like when Von Karma was teaching him.

"Okay. Look Edgeworth, I'm going to have to touch your hand again." The defence attorney's fingers hovered uncertainly above the prosecutor's. I don't know why I'm feeling so awkward.

"Very well." Edgeworth's voice was almost a whisper and his eyes flicked across to Phoenix briefly, before returning to focus on his own hand. Well he doesn't look very sure, but I suppose that counts as permission.

Gingerly, and as gently as he possibly could, Phoenix guided Edgeworth's thumb and fingers directly on to the keys, then adjusted them until he was happy that they were in the right position. There was still a tenseness that was almost palpable and Edgeworth's eyes remained fixed resolutely downward. But to his credit he didn't flinch or twitch under Phoenix's touch and the defence attorney was impressed at his stoicism. It felt weird, touching his hand that way, and the softness of the skin surprised him.

"Alright. If you hit the keys with the fingers I've lined up, you'll get a chord. C Major. Go for it"

Edgeworth took him literally. The resulting noise was loud enough to make both men jump, and there was an unmistakeable tinge of embarrassment to the prosecutor's face.

"This isn't court, Edgeworth! Jesus Christ - you're not making an objection. Be gentle! Imagine you're touching something soft like … uh, well ..." Don't go there, Phoenix. "Just lift your fingers up without moving your hand too much, okay?"

This time the result was considerably more tuneful, and a small smile tugged at the prosecutor's lips. Encouraged by the reaction, Phoenix moved in again to rearrange the other man's fingers on to a different set of keys.

Edgeworth repeated his more restrained movement of the hand and a slightly more doleful but perfectly in tune chord echoed round the stage.

"G minor," Phoenix offered, helpfully.

"G Minor." Edgeworth half-smiled and sounded the notes again. He looked as if someone had given him a map to another world all of a sudden, and Phoenix felt an unexpected lump at the back of his throat. It was like looking back in time to a different Edgeworth, and a different Phoenix.

"It's not quite Albinoni – but it's a step in the right direction, at least," he said at last, trying to head off an awkward silence.

"It's … different." Edgeworth still looked slightly entranced.

"Yeah." He smiled at the prosecutor "I know."

He did know. He'd experienced it himself, all those years ago in music lessons. Making a sound come out of his own fingers that he'd only read as an abstract description of a piece of music on the back of a CD case. Understanding suddenly what something like that actually meant, in a personal way, and realising that music wasn't some kind of forbidden world that only belonged to a select few, but was something that he could do, too.

This time when Edgeworth looked up and smiled, he met the defence attorney's eyes, and Phoenix had an unmistakeable sense that they had just shared something, in that moment, in a way that they hadn't since they were children. He felt a thrill of emotion that he couldn't explain, and in some odd way he was grateful when the sound of a nervous cough broke the tension.

Mr Ivries was standing there looking distinctly unimpressed. "If you two gentlemen have concluded your … investigation … ?"

Edgeworth got to his feet hurriedly, but by the time he turned to face the manager his usual poise was perfectly restored, and Phoenix was both impressed and amused at the sudden change. "Thank you yes, I think we are finished for today. We may need to return tomorrow however, to carry out a proper examination of the dressing room area."

Ivries looked unenthusiastic and fixed Phoenix with a disapproving look as he took in the opened lid of the piano. Phoenix rose to his feet and made for the door, crossing in front of Edgeworth as he did so. "Tomorrow I'll show you A Minor," he whispered in passing, and shot the prosecutor a grin. Edgeworth's face remained inexpressive, but Phoenix was quite sure there was the answering flash of a smile in his eyes, just for a second.