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The irrational thought of "Can't this plane fly any faster?” crosses Miles’ mind while his phone call with Larry echoes in his mind. Wright's life is in danger. He may already be dead.
The logical part of him reminds him that the one who gave him the news was Larry and his childhood friend has never been the most reliable witness. The panicked, frantic part of his brain refuses to listen, instead flooding his mind with images of Wright injured - dead . The rest of the plane ride seems far too long, but there’s nothing Miles can do that can clear his mind of the horrifying thoughts that fill it.
In contrast, however, the rush to get to the hospital once the plane lands is a blur, and he barely remembers shouting “Where is Phoenix Wright?” once he gets to the hospital, barely remembers the almost-terrified squeak a nurse gives as he rushes past her, barely remembers running up several flights of stairs to get to Wright’s room.
He hasn’t seen Wright in nearly a year, and Miles certainly did not want their reunion to be under such dire circumstances. Though it’s not quite the life-or-death situation Larry made it out to be, Phoenix Wright in a hospital is still cause for concern. Despite the seemingly endless amount of luck the defense attorney has, it is sure to run out sooner or later, and that is a day Miles never wants to see.
While the man lying in the hospital bed is far from dying, he’s also far from the Wright Miles knows, and he nearly does a double-take when he walks into the room. The Wright that greets Miles with a half-hearted smile that wouldn’t fool anyone is pale and quiet, looking like he’d much rather be out and about, even if it meant he’d collapse from exhaustion. “Knowing Wright,” Miles reflects, “he probably does wish he could be doing work right now.”
“Ah, Edgeworth,” Wright says, a strange look in his eyes. “... Hi?”
His voice is strained, and something inside Miles twists in anguish at how tired he looks. “Wright… W-what happened? Larry didn’t- All he told me when he called was that you were dying and I thought-” Miles can’t bring himself to finish his sentence.
To his indignation, though not surprise, Wright has the gall to laugh as though him dying and Miles’ concern is a joke, and Miles starts to let his stare sharpen into a glare, though he stops when his friend’s laughter turns into coughing.
“S- *cough* sorry,” Wright chokes out after a moment, “I just thought you could tell when Larry is exaggerating.” He pauses as though contemplating something, a confused look crossing his face. “How did you get here, anyway?”
“I…” Miles hesitates. “I chartered a private jet,” he mumbles, even though it’s been drilled into his head that he should absolutely not, under any circumstances, mumble , nor should he be blushing right now. “That’s not important, Wright!” he continues quickly, seeing the teasing glint in his friend’s eye that tells him that he’ll never hear the end of this. “What happened ?”
At that, the grin on Wright’s face is replaced by a sheepish look and now it’s his turn to mumble out an answer. “I *cough* Iranontoabridgewhileitwasburningdown.”
“You- what?”
“I… ran onto a bridge while it was burning down?”
Miles can only stare in shock. Of all the idiotic things he could have done-
“You tried to run across a burning bridge?! Wright...” There are more words he wants to say, of course, but he holds back on account of Wright’s miserable appearance. Quite frankly, he’s shocked that he’s even alive - contrary to what many may believe, water does nothing to break a fall. That Wright only wound up bruised and with a cold … Miles may not believe in the supernatural, but it seems to him that something in the universe is keeping his friend from experiencing the consequences of his stupid and dangerous actions. There will be time for a lecture later, though, so he settles for a long-suffering sigh and a half-hearted glare that he’s sure his old friend sees right through.
Except Wright doesn’t respond in the way Miles expects him to. Rather than throw a joke about luck and an excuse his way, Wright stays silent as his expression sharpens into something akin to panic as though he’s just remembered something.
“M-Maya? M-Miles, do you know where Maya is?”
And while Miles’ brain momentarily freezes at Wright calling him by his first name, he doesn’t allow himself to dwell on it or any of the possible implications. “He doesn’t know what he’s saying,” he thinks to himself as he forces himself to snap out of shock.
“Maya Fey?” he asks, and something in Wright’s eyes shatters at what is essentially an admission that he does not, in fact, know where Ms. Fey is. “This is all wrong,” Miles thinks because Wright is never supposed to look this defeated or have such a blank expression on his face. He goes to break the tense silence that now surrounds them, cursing himself when he can think of nothing to say. He opens his mouth to say anything at all, but Wright speaks before he gets a chance.
“Edgeworth…” he says, and Miles doesn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed that Wright has gone back to using his last name. “She- she was on the other side of the bridge.”
He inhales sharply. Ms. Fey was on the other side of the burning bridge? That explains why Wright was so reckless, at least. “I will contact Detective Gumshoe and ask if he knows anything. I will tell him to get a rescue team ready as soon as possible.”
Gratefulness and relief clash with fear and worry in Wright’s eyes and he internally flinches. The last time I saw him like this… He cuts that thought off quickly - that is not a case he wants to remember.
“Larry is waiting for me at the detention center, I believe, so I will contact the Detective on my way over there. Take care, Wright.” He turns to leave but is stopped by Wright’s voice behind him.
“E-Edgeworth, wait… Please… You need to take this with you.”
Miles turns around. And stops. And stares . Because Wright is holding out his attorney’s badge and this day has already been too stressful for his liking.
“Wright, what are you-”
“Take care of-” He breaks out into a coughing fit, and Miles starts forward in concern before Wright waves him off. “Take care of Iris.”
“Wright, I’m a prosecu-”
“A prosecutor, I- *cough* I know. But Iris is innocent, and I can’t defend her like this, so I need you to do it for me!”
Miles can only stare, mouth agape, at what Wright is asking. Surely, he must be joking…?!
“W-Wright-”
“I trust you, Edgeworth. You-” Wright breaks off again, looking like he’s about to go into another coughing fit but managing to stop it somehow. “You’ll need this, too.”
Miles looks down to see what his friend is shoving towards him and stares blankly at the strangely shaped green rock that almost seems to be glowing in the hospital lighting.
“U-use this to *cough* to see into p-” Another coughing fit. “You can s-see into peoples’ hearts and- *cough* *cough*” Wright waves off Miles’ concern once more, even as the coughing grows worse.
“Wri- Phoenix ,” Miles interjects when it shows no sign of stopping, moving towards the bed again. But his friend raises a hand to stop him in his tracks as the coughing fit finally dies down.
“You’ve got this, partner,” Wright says with a grin, and now Miles knows that the cold has messed with his head because there is no way Phoenix Wright just called him, Miles Edgeworth , ‘partner’.
Still, he nods, despite all his doubts and confusion because there is no way he can refuse Wr- Phoenix when he looks this miserable.
“I will not let you down.”