AN: Hopefully this chapter turns out better than expected. [spoiler] The director had said Miles had a large dog named Pess that he partically was emotionally attached to. (Modified. I assumed him as a German Shepard and placed him in Miles's childhood, rather than when he's older and a prosecutor. I had to add him in somewhere) (Threw in Ms. Wright, don't know a thing about Phoenix's parents, assuming he lives with his mom, his dad's divorced.)

*Don't own the characters, blah blah blah.)

Miles loped up the driveway to the large house he lived in with his father, none other than the famous defense attorney, Gregory Edgeworth- his inspiration. He fumbled with the doorknob and let himself into the large manor, closing the door rather loudly to announce his presence. Pess skidded across the slippery floor from the living room when he heard the door slam shut, planting sloppy kisses all over Miles face as he laughed and tried to wrestle him off.

"Ger-rof me, Pess. Down, boy down!" he pushed him off gently, pleased as the dog layed down, tail sweeping across the floor in excitement. "Good boy," he praised, delivering a well-earned scratch behind the young German Shepard's ears. "Papa, I'm home!" he half-shouted towards his father's office, gently scratching the elegant dog's ears, earning a few more slobbery kisses all over.

"Well, welcome home son," Mr. Edgeworth smiled, twirling his polished glasses around his finger while leaning against the door frame, "how was your day?" "The same as usual..I made some new friends though.." he dumped his bag on a glass table in the living room, pulling books out one by one. "New friends, like whom?" Mr. Edgeworth pressed further, calling Pess over to sit by his feet patiently.

"Phoenix Wright and Larry Butz, they're both my classmates."

"Afraid to say I haven't heard of the Wright or the Butz family."

Miles shook his head, kicking off his shoes, "Me neither, but I like Nick and Larry."

"Oh? You'll have to invite them over sometime, i'd love to meet some of my son's friends. Pess needs some new friends too," he smiled and nodded towards the silky dog who whimpered happily as his name was called, but remained by Mr. Edgeworth's feet loyally. Miles just nodded, flipping through a thick, aging text book absentmindedly. Pess did love Miles and his father, but a new face and a new schedule would do the restless pup good. "Sure."

"Lovely, i'll be in my office for a while, working on a new case so don't set the house on fire," Mr. Edgeworth winked and strolled out of the room, mounting his lenses on the bridge of his nose, ready to serve justice once more. "Wait, can I help?" Miles added before his father stepped out of the room. He shook his head and smiled sadly, "Not this time, i'm almost finished with some paperwork, but I appreciate the offer." With that, he returned to his work, the work that could save a life.

Miles smiled to himself and got work on yet another essay, Pess sleeping quitely at his feet. Occasionally he'd yawn and roll over and lumber into sleep again as Miles wrote, review, crossed out mistakes, and worked his way quickly through the project, the outcome being a neatly hand-written five page essay.

He re-read it until he was sure it was perfect, that his teacher would adore it like every other piece of his writings. Sometime in between, Pess had re-arranged himself on the sofa next to his owner and companion, coating the leathery couch with long, glossy strands of dog fur, enjoying the somewhat soothing noise of pen against paper.

Miles smiled and packed his things away once again and began stroking the young dog's head as he thought.

"For once I'm happy...I have friends, Dad's getting enough sleep and not overworking, and my classwork has been at it's best, that is, since i've been in this school..." He smiled and fell asleep with this thought against Pess, embeding his head against the soft fur of his best friend.

"MOOOOM, i'm hooome," Nick shouted as he entered his small apartment noisily, throwing his backpack on a shaky desk in the corner. "Don't shout Nick, i'm right here," she warned, mixing some strange, soupy dough in a large cooking bowl. "Right, sorry.." he muttered, kicking off his shoes in the direction of his room, hoping that they'd land near the door like they never did. "And clean up your shoes, you'll track dirt and whatnot through the apartment," she finished, nodding towards the dirty sneakers sprawled across the carpet.

"Okay okay," he mused, smiling sheepishly as he pushed his sneakers into the safety of his trashed room. One pair of sneakers would easily blend in with the eruption of comic books, dirty clothes, candy wrappers, and who knows what else could be in the room of a messy 4th grader.

Ms. Wright ruffled his hair affectionately, smiling, "What am I going to do with you, Phoenix?" "You're going to stop messing up my hair and start calling me Nick," he suggested jokingly, causing them to both laugh quietly. "Alright Mr. Nick, how was your day at school?"

"Same as usual," he mumbled, "but I made a new friend."

"Really? Larry isn't enough trouble already?" she teased, nudging him slightly. "Yeah yeah, but Miles is my new friend too," he finished, waiting for his mother's reaction.

"Miles, Miles Edgeworth...is he the son of that famous defence attorney, Gregory Edgeworth?"

"I think so, they both moved here recently, it'd make sense."

"You'll have to invite him over some time."

"Mooom, this place is a dump though," he whined, anything to change his mom's suggestion. "Oh, alright, maybe the Butz will let you guys destroy their yard again," she replied raising and eyebrow suspiciously, causing Nick to puff out his chest proudly, "You bet we will!"

"I bet you'll also finish your homework, right Nick?" she questioned, tapping a finger against her bicep patiently. "Oh alright.." he grumbled, dragging himself to his work desk, dumping the contents of his bag on the scratched, rough surface.

"I just don't get this, how does Miles get it perfectly every time without even trying?" Nick wondered, flipping open a book irritatedly. "Oh right, he's a genius, just like his dad. Maybe I could ask him for some help tomorrow.." He sighed and ran a hand through his worn, messy hair before attempting to finish his assigned work.

Larry strutted into his own home and discarded his bag in a corner, whistling casually as he slammed the screen door to the muddy trailer shut.

"Larry, is that you?" a husky voice rang through the room, his father reading the newspaper on the couch, feet kicked up and laying on the coffee table.

"Yup, Butz is home again," he half-shouted, receiving an approving grunt from his father, "how was your day, Pops?" Larry brushed some non-existant dust off his shoulders as he threw his sneakers against the door.

"Same as usual bud, yours?"

"Not so great, an annoying Teacher's Pet reminded her to give us homework when she forgot to at the end of one of our classes."

Pops grunted and picked himself off the couch, throwing the newspaper on the table as he sipped another beer. "Those smart-ass kids, hate them. Son, help clean up some of these bottles."

Larry sighed quietly but procceeded to clean up after his alchoholic dad, careful not to smash any bottles or bump into him, afraid he'd tip at any second. He wasn't exactly sure why his dad drank, but he'd be better off saving the question for when Pops was sober again.

"So, where's Mom at?" questioned Larry as he carefully disposed of the glass bottles, pulling out a rag to wipe the table clean of any spilt alchohol. Pops didn't reply or even help, he slumped back on the couch and lumbered into sleep, snoring loudly.

"Why can't I have a regular dad who isn't drunk all the time..?"

"Oliver-pooooop, is Larry home ye- Oh, hello Larry, didn't hear you come in," Mrs. Butz smiled warmly despite the obvious lack of sleep. The dark circles under her eyes, hands red and raw from scrubbing laundry, hair tangled with dust, falling flat on her small head.

"Mom, are you alright..?"

"Yes, yes, I'm fine, perfectly fine."

"You shouldn't have to put up with that pig, he's not a great dad at all."

"Oh Larry, don't say that! I love Oliver."

"I don't know what you see in him.."

"Give him a while, i'll encourage him to stop drinking."

"Oh alright...Do you need any help with anything, anything at all..?"

She rubbed her eyes tenderly and yawned, "Dearie, could you sweep the kitchen floor, I need to get some rest."

"Oh, alright then, go get some sleep."

She squeezed his shoulder affectionately, eyes tearing up, "Thank you Larry." She whisked out of the room, leaving Larry with a broom, dustpan, and her drunk husband.

"This shouldn't take too long, I can do my assignment later. Poor Mom though, I just wish Pops would stop drinking and fighting with her all the time.."

He sighed and sweeped the broom across the dirty floors of their shaky trailer, listening to the loud snores of his large, gruff father. He kicked stray clothing in a pile near the doorway of the kitchen, mentally reminding himself to offer to help clean the laundry. He couldn't stand the sight of his Mom's hands, red, puffy, with a sand-paper feeling. Hopefully she can afford some ointment and bandages to let them heal.

"Maybe I can ask Miles or Nick for a few bucks and pick some up at the drug store on the way home tomorrow. I'm sure they'd understand the situation I'm in.."

He sighed again and stowed the broom away in a small, sloping closet and retreated to his room to finish his assigment much to his own distaste.

"Oh well, here goes nothing, fingers crossed that this essay turns out okay.."

He rested his chin on his palm and scribbled down a rough-draft, hoping he can make up a clever excuse as to why his essay isn't that great at all, thinking of all the fun he, Nick, and Miles could have right now if it weren't for Ivy's outburst earlier. He scrawled irritatedly, tearing the paper to shreds after he ripped a hole in the paper on accident, suddenly regretting destroying his work.

"Hopefully Nick can lend me his tomorrow morning.."