Phoenix was fuming.

He leaned back on the park bench, its uncomfortable wooden back digging into his shoulder blades as he frowned at the night sky. After two years of cohabitation and almost ten years of friendship, they had fought only three times, all in the last two weeks.

He was unsure how the first fight had even started - one minute they were having a casual discussion, the next they were positively furious at each other. Thankfully, the aftermath didn't last long. They had made up before going to bed that night.

The second fight was worse. They had each said things they regretted, particularly Maya, who had called Phoenix an "egocentric prick" before he had stormed out of the office, barely stopping to grab his coat. Ten blocks later, he turned around and started walking back, making a short detour to pick up a bouquet of flowers. He had opened the door to the office to see Maya putting on her own coat to go look for him. They had a short, awkward talk consisting of several apologies and requests for forgiveness before they had hugged and gone back to work.

But this time it was serious. He had said something he wasn't sure he could take back, and Maya had thrown him out of his apartment. He knew he couldn't go back there tonight. He wasn't sure if he could go back there tomorrow.

He sighed angrily as he watched a cloud pass overhead. He couldn't believe what he had said, how stupid he had been to say it. He couldn't believe Maya had started the argument in the first place. He couldn't believe this had happened.

He felt a shiver run through his entire body. He started to get up, to take another walk around the lake, but he stopped himself. It was futile. He wasn't getting any warmer, and the night wasn't getting any younger. He had to start thinking about what to do for shelter.

A hotel was out. His wallet was in his coat back at the apartment. So were his keys, which meant the office was unavailable. He didn't have a car, so no long distance travel. That left only his friends. He was not about to spend the night at Apollo's - as nice as the kid was, Phoenix wasn't willing to share his personal problems with him, and Apollo wouldn't stop asking until he did. Trucy had moved into her own place recently, but he didn't want to worry her with this. Gumshoe had a wife and kid, he wasn't about to impose on them. Larry was simply out of the question. Ema was a possibility; she wouldn't ask questions that he didn't want to answer and she still felt like she owed him...but no, if Maya found out he spent the night at her place she might get the wrong impression, which would only make matters worse. The more Phoenix thought about it, the more he felt there was only one logical choice. He didn't think he'd be pleased to see him at this hour, but he wouldn't turn him away either.

Phoenix stood up from the bench and started walking for the park entrance, planning to hail the next cab he saw. He hoped the twenty in his pocket would be enough to cover the fare.

He rang the doorbell and waited. No answer. He rang it again.

He heard the sound of locks being fumbled with on the other side of the door before it opened.

Edgeworth leaned against the door frame and sighed, the ice in the glass tumbler he held clinking slightly. "Somehow I knew it would be you, Wright."

Phoenix regarded Edgeworth a moment before he spoke. His jacket and cravat were absent, revealing his unbuttoned black vest and white dress shirt. The maroon suit pants her wore were a little wrinkled. His dark grey hair looked slightly mussed, and he wasn't wearing any shoes or slippers, just black socks. From the glass in his hand and his unusually nonchalant manner, he guessed he had interrupted one of Edgeworth's private drinking sessions.

"Mind if I come in?" Phoenix asked with a shiver. "It's a bit cold outside."

Edgeworth stepped aside and raised his glass to the back in a welcoming, if rather patronizing, gesture. Phoenix stepped inside and immediately headed for the warmth of the library.

After Phoenix had sat himself in one of the two large wingbacked leather chairs near the roaring fireplace, Edgeworth sauntered in and sat heavily in the other, setting his glass next to the decanter on the small table between them.

"I'm guessing this isn't a social call," Edgeworth said humorlessly as he closed his eyes and rubbed his temple. "What's the matter, Wright?"

Phoenix was hunched over, his elbows on his knees as he stared into the fire. "Maya threw me out."

Edgeworth's eyes shot open. "What?" He asked quickly. "When? Why?"

"An hour ago. We had a fight."

"What are you-" Edgeworth shook his head, trying desperately to regain all his mental faculties. "Since when do you two ever fight?"

"Since about two weeks ago," Phoenix answered stiffly. He reached up and ran a hand through his spiky hair. "This'll be the third since then."

"The third?!" Edgeworth exclaimed incredulously. He leaned forward and put his face in his hands. Phoenix had rarely seen Edgeworth so easily flustered. He figured it must be the alcohol.

Silently, the dark haired prosecutor sat up again and slapped himself across the face. Hard. Phoenix looked on stunned as Edgeworth struck himself a second time before settling back into his chair.

"Okay. Tell me what happened."

There was a long silence, during which Edgeworth didn't move a muscle. He just glared at Phoenix, who fidgeted nervously in his chair.

"Jesus Christ, Wright."

"I know, I know," Phoenix said, refusing to meet Edgeworth's harsh gaze. "It's awful."

Edgeworth just shook his head. "Jesus Christ," he repeated. He rubbed his left temple and sighed. "What made you say-"

"I don't know!" Phoenix blurted out angrily, looking everywhere but Edgeworth's face as he rambled on. "I don't know what made me say it! I don't know why we've been fighting lately! It could be any number of things, I mean, Trucy moved out recently and the place feels a lot emptier and with Apollo starting his own firm we're that much busier and I don't know!"

Edgeworth regarded him curiously. There was a long silence, the only noise the pop and crackle of the fire. Phoenix leaned back in his chair, covering his eyes with his hand. Finally, Edgeworth spoke again.

"You want a drink?" He gestured at the elegant decanter on the table between them. Phoenix considered the offer - alcohol was a depressant, and that was exactly what he didn't need right now. But before he could say no, Edgeworth got up to go get a glass from the small cabinet on the opposite end of the library from the fireplace. He returned, poured a small amount of what was probably brandy into the ice filled tumbler, and handed it to his guest before plopping down his chair again. Phoenix stared at the glass in his hand for a minute.

"Just drink it," Edgeworth said, annoyance creeping into his voice. "You need to relax."

"What the hell," Phoenix mumbled right before he downed the entire glass of brandy in a single swig. Edgeworth smirked briefly as his friend was sent into a coughing fit. It was stronger than he had anticipated.

Phoenix set his glass on the table between them and leaned back in his chair. No more beating around the bush. He asked the question he had wanted to ask since he got here. "What am I gonna do, Edgeworth?"

Edgeworth crossed his legs and dented his fingers. He would have looked his usual calculating self if not for the rather sleepy look in his eyes. "You can stay here tonight," he said simply. "Tomorrow as well, if necessary. But you're going to have to talk to her again soon."

"How am I supposed to do that?" Phoenix asked mournfully. "Am I supposed to just apologize for what I said? It's not a thing you can just take back..."

"You're right," Edgeworth sighed, a concerned expression on his face as he stared at his friend. "But you're going to have to. And you're going to have to mean it. No flowers, no chocolate, no burgers, no gifts of any kind. She'll think you're trying to buy her off. No, you're simply going to have to apologize in person."

"In person?" Phoenix said incredulously. "She won't see me."

"Then talk through the door. Over the phone is too distant, she'll think you're afraid of speaking in person because you're not sincere. And I know you would be," Edgeworth said quickly when Phoenix moved to object, "I'm just giving you my opinion of what she'll think."

He sighed. "Regardless, that's all the advice I can give you."

Phoenix blinked. "What? That's it?"

Edgeworth nodded solemnly. "Everything after that is beyond me." He leaned towards Phoenix and, for the first time since he arrived, scowled at him. "It's not going to be pleasant, Phoenix. It's going to be terrible. I can't make any guarantees that she'll take you back right away. But there's no running away from this. You're going to go over there, and you're going to stand in front of her, and you're going to take your punishment like a man."

Phoenix spent the night in Edgeworth's guest bedroom. It was a little awkward, but the brandy certainly helped put him to sleep. When he awoke the next morning, Edgeworth was still asleep, passed out on his own bed fully clothed. Phoenix decided not to wake him, and instead set upon foraging for food. The only cereal he could find was a box of wheat flakes and oats, which he knew tasted awful, but he certainly wasn't going to attempt to cook something substantial in Edgeworth's kitchen.

After a while, he began hearing noises from the second floor. Some time later Edgeworth descended the staircase and stalked into the living room, scowling furiously and rubbing his temple. His hair was wet, which meant he had showered, and Phoenix could swear he was wearing an exact copy of what he had on the previous night (he had long suspected Edgeworth had multiple copies of his maroon suit). At first he looked surprised that Phoenix was on his couch, watching his TV and eating his food. Then he sighed and seated himself in the easy chair across from him.

"It wasn't a dream, then."

"Nope," Phoenix replied curtly.

Edgeworth scowled again, but said nothing more.

Phoenix spent the rest of the day trying to gather his courage to go to the apartment, and trying to figure out how best to articulate how sorry he was without sounding insincere. It wasn't going particularly well on either front, but he knew Edgeworth was right. He had to pay for his mistake. He just hoped the cost wouldn't be too great. He didn't think he could stand losing Maya.

It was late afternoon by the time Phoenix felt he was ready. Edgeworth called a cab to come out to his house - he didn't feel well enough to drive. As they waited at the door for the cab to arrive, Edgeworth leaned back against the wall. His expression softened, at least as much as it could with his crushing headache and killer hangover.

"It's not entirely your fault, Wright," he said slowly. "If what you told me was true, Maya was the one who started these arguments."

"It's true," Phoenix said somberly, "but it doesn't excuse what I said."

"Of course not, you..." Edgeworth stopped his angry tirade before it began and rubbed his forehead again. "You shouldn't feel you have anything to apologize for apart from that one remark, Wright."

Phoenix appreciated what he was trying to do. He was trying to reassure him, ease his guilt. Even with a colossal hangover, Edgeworth was still as good a friend as ever.

"Thanks, Miles," he said. "For everything."

Edgeworth averted his gaze and crossed his arms. "You are welcome," he said stiffly.

The cab ride to the apartment was far too short for Phoenix's liking. His stomach did flips as he stood outside his building, staring up at the general area where the apartment would be. Gathering up his resolve, he stuck his hands in his pockets and strode forward.

He almost felt like he was having an out of body experience as he got into the elevator and pressed the correct floor. The elevator doors opened, and he could see the door to his apartment at the end of the hall. He almost didn't get out in time, but he caught the door as it was closing and started walking again. His legs felt like lead and his stomach was feeling worse. He willed himself to calm down, trying desperately to remind himself that what he was doing to himself now was almost certainly worse than the actual conversation would be. It almost worked, until he neared the apartment and heard sobbing from inside.

He seriously considered walking away right there, heading back to Edgeworth's place and giving them both more time to calm down. But if he put it off any longer, he felt he was risking them growing even further apart. So he steeled himself as best he could, raised his hand, and knocked on the door.

The sobbing stopped abruptly. He heard her sniff and clear her throat before she spoke. "Who is it?" she called, trying desperately to sound like nothing was wrong.

Phoenix opened his mouth and it took everything he had to force the words out. "It's me."

A heavy silence.

"Go away!" She spat angrily.

"I can't." Phoenix answered, his voice quiet.

Another silence. Then he heard footsteps, growing louder until they were in front of the door. "Did you come here for your coat, is that it?" she asked, her voice neutral for the moment.

"No. I just...I came to apologize." It was still difficult, but words were coming easier now. The hard part had been initiating the conversation.

"So what? So you think you can just say you're sorry and come home?!" She was angry again, raising her voice with every word.

"No, but I couldn't just...I couldn't just not apologize. And...I don't know..." This was going about as well as he had expected - very badly. His stomach began to tighten again.

The silence between them was so utterly deafening as he stood outside the apartment door that it encouraged him to speak again, happy to break it. "I wish I could tell you how sorry I am. I really do. I mean...I know how hollow it must sound, after what I said, but...I'm so sorry..."

"You're right, it does sound hollow," she said loudly, anger mingling with sorrow. "What you said hurt me, Nick. You can't just apologize and make everything all better!"

"I know, I know that, but...I don't know what else I can do...I don't know what else you want me to do. Whatever you want, I'll do it."

There was a much briefer pause before she spoke again. "Really?"

"Yes," he replied truthfully.

"Then go fuck yourself, Nick," she growled. He heard her footsteps stomping quickly away from the door. He thought he heard her sob before he heard the bedroom door slam.

Phoenix slumped against the wall next to the apartment door. He fell to the floor and put his face in his hands to hide the tears rolling down his cheeks.

He didn't know how long he had been there. Hours, maybe. It was dark, he knew that. The window at the end of the corridor told him that much. He was still sitting against the wall, knees pulled up to his chest, his eyes red and puffy. He was afraid to leave. He was afraid if he did, he'd never see her again.

So there he sat, crying as silently as he could every once in a while, refusing to leave. Gradually, his head began to loll, and his eyes began to droop. He was half-asleep when he heard her voice again.

"Nick?"

His eyes snapped open. He hadn't heard her footsteps. Briefly, he wondered if he was dreaming, but quickly decided it didn't matter.

"Yeah," he replied, his voice hoarse.

He heard movement, and when she next spoke, her voice was level with his. He figured she must be sitting beside the door same as he was.

"Why?" It was a simple question. One that Phoenix felt he couldn't adequately answer. But she had asked, so he was going to try.

"I don't really know," he began, leaning his head back against the wall. "Maybe Trucy moving out, or Apollo moving on..." He stopped. Sighing, he shook his head and shut his eyes. "No. No, I won't try to pass the blame onto anyone else. What I said is my fault. No one else's."

"It's my fault too, isn't it." Maya's tone was deadpan. It wasn't really a question.

"No," he said as forcefully as he could. "You did nothing wrong. I said what I said because I was an idiot. That's all."

He heard a sigh, and her voice began to waver. "I started that fight...I started all of them. I don't even know why, really. The reasons...they don't seem so important now."

She sniffled, and Phoenix felt a lump in his throat. He couldn't take this anymore. He had to see her.

"Could I come in?" he asked as timidly as he could. "It's just...a bit awkward talking like this."

There was a long pause, and Phoenix began to feel as though he had asked too much, but then there was movement. He heard the deadbolt slide back and saw the door open just enough to let him sidle in. He quickly got up off the floor and entered the now dark apartment, lit only by the moonlight from the windows.

Maya's eyes were red and puffy, her hair had no ties and simply draped around her shoulders and back, and she was in her purple silk pajamas. He was still in the same clothes she had kicked him out in almost twenty four hours ago.

She wandered over to the couch without meeting his gaze and sat at one end. Phoenix took it as an invitation and sat at the other end, hunching forward and lacing his fingers together.

"I'm sorry," he said as he stared at the floor. It was all he could think to say.

Maya said nothing. It was only when he saw her raise a hand to rub her eyes that Phoenix realized she was crying. He wanted to reach over and comfort her, but he wasn't sure that was what she wanted.

She sobbed openly, bringing her other hand up to her face in an attempt to halt the flow of tears. That was it. He wasn't going to just sit here and watch.

Slowly, he scooted over until he was within arm's reach. Then, slowly, carefully, he raised his hand and began rubbing her back. Maya tensed suddenly underneath his touch, and he yanked his hand away. She looked up at him and looked into his eyes for the first time that night. Then she scooted closer.

He raised his hand to her back and began rubbing it once again. After a minute she stopped crying and scooted even closer. He began to rub the back of her neck. After a long while she spoke.

"You said you'd do whatever I asked." She spoke calmly and deliberately.

"I would."

She looked at him. He couldn't make out her expression in the dark. "Lay down."

Phoenix blinked, but did as she asked, laying back on the couch. She climbed on top of him and rested her head on his chest. Unconsciously, he wrapped his arms around her. She didn't object.

They fell asleep shortly thereafter.

Phoenix awoke to the sounds of battle. When he opened his eyes, he discovered that Maya had moved - she was sitting in the easy chair next to the couch with a mug of coffee in her hands, watching an episode of Copper Samurai on the television with the volume turned down low. He sat up, and she turned her head and looked at him.

"Hey," she said.

"Hey," he replied.

"There's still some coffee in the pot if you want some," she said, indicating the door to the kitchen. Phoenix stood and walked in, getting himself a mug and pouring some from the pot under the coffee maker. He walked back out and sat back on the couch, cradling his drink in his hands. Silently, they watched the rest of the show.

After the Copper Samurai had defeated his enemy and the credits began to roll, he spoke. "What does this mean?"

"I don't know," she replied, staring into her cup. "I don't think I've forgiven you yet. But I don't want to fight anymore."

Phoenix nodded, staring into his own mug. He knew it wasn't going to be a short time before she forgave him, if she ever did at all.

"I promise I won't start another argument like that again." She looked up at him with her deep brown eyes, her expression one of solemn determination. He looked away for a moment, then back at her.

"I promise I'll never hurt you like that again." He stared resolutely into her eyes, refusing to look away again.

They gazed at each other for a moment before Maya smiled weakly and raised her mug at him. Phoenix smiled for the first time in over a day and clinked his mug against hers.