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The outside world is filled with Christmas cheer. The ground is cold and white. The trees are aglow. Carolers are singing joyfully, their voices ringing through the crisp winter air. Their harmonies blend beautifully, creating a festive atmosphere that warms the hearts of everyone who hears them. The melodies of classic Christmas songs echo down the streets, inviting neighbors to join in the celebration. On the inside, there is a stark contrast.
Edgeworth can't stand the Christmas spirit going around because it brings back painful memories of past holidays spent alone. The cheer and joy outside only serve to amplify his sense of isolation and loss. Desperate for an escape, he decides to retreat to a quiet place where the festive sounds can't reach him.
He spends the entire night driving in whatever silence he can conjure, the engine's hum is his only companion. The city lights blur past the windows, but his mind stays focused on the conversation that awaits him. He pulls up to an office, one that shares the same name as his own. Yet, he doesn’t own it. That honor goes to the man inside. Edgeworth takes a deep breath, preparing himself for emotional honesty.
Leaving his red car behind, he walks cautiously toward the entrance, his footsteps crunching softly on the snow-covered path. His hand hesitates for a moment before he finally raises it to knock, the sound echoing in the stillness of the night. After a brief pause, he pushes the door open, stepping inside to face the man he has come to see.
Greeting him is the shocked face of a forty-two-year-old man with a lean frame. His brown eyes bulge upon seeing the younger chief prosecutor enter the building. With a sudden jolt, his black hat that had once belonged to someone close falls off his head.
His hands tremble slightly. "Miles," he stammers, struggling to regain his composure, "I didn't expect to see you here tonight...or anyone else for that matter. What brings you here?" The room fills with awkward silence as both men realize the gravity of the conversation that lies ahead.
"Mr. Shields..." Edgeworth bows and retrieves the hat. "My apologies for dropping in at such an unexpected time. I hope I didn't interrupt anything of importance."
Raymond Shields offers a small, reassuring smile, gesturing for Edgeworth to sit while donning his iconic accessory. "Me? Too busy for you? Nah, man! You know my door's always open. Your Uncle Ray was just going through some of your old man's case files," he replies, trying to ease the tension. "Been hangin' in there, you know how it is. What about you? Still rockin' that prosecutor life?"
Edgeworth feels the warmth of the room slowly thaw the chill from outside. "I've been keeping busy with work, as usual," he responds, grateful for the familiar topic as a starting point. He looks around.
The office is dimly lit, a single desk lamp casting a warm glow over an assortment of case files scattered across the wooden surface. The walls are lined with bookshelves overflowing with legal documents, their spines worn from years and years of use. There are very few Christmas decorations. Not too fancy or all over the place, like a certain defense attorney's office, but just enough to enhance it. A faint, rich aroma of coffee lingers in the air, mingling with the scent of aged leather from the armchairs that invite long conversations and reflection. While Edgeworth prefers the scent of tea, the atmosphere is very welcoming. He hasn't been here many times as a child, so he has very little memory of the place. And yet, there's a sense of familiarity and comfort. This is the place where his late, great father worked to bring justice after all. And he is greatly relieved to know that his legacy still lives on.
Not too far off is a small shrine bearing a framed photo. Smiling in the photo is a much younger Raymond Shields—eighteen, in fact—holding up a peace sign while standing beside an unsuspecting and unwilling Gregory. That's not all. There's another photo beside it that's very much like the first. Raymond does the same pose with Edgeworth beside him this time, with the same expression as his father's. This one was taken six years ago.
Although he still can't forgive his friend for taking such an unwanted photo without his permission, Edgeworth does find it somewhat amusing. Looking between the two photos, it's amazing how much his features resemble his father's. Without his awareness, the corners of his lips pull upward.
"Doth mine eyes deceive me?" Ray interrupts his train of thought, causing the prosecutor to look up in surprise. He claps his hands. "Miles Edgeworth cracked a genuine smile! I never thought I'd see the day. Quick, someone check outside—are pigs flying now?" Ray chuckles, shaking his head in mock disbelief. "I should've brought my camera to capture this!"
Edgeworth rolls his eyes. "You can always take a picture in your head, you know. Just snap your eyes, and remember the moment. Besides, it's not like I'm ever going to smile again."
Ray shrugs, unfazed. "Maybe, maybe not, but at least I got to see it with my own two eyes!"
Edgeworth crosses his arms. "I'll have to be more vigilant in the future to prevent such compromising moments," he retorts, with a glint of humor in his eyes. "But don't get too comfortable, Mr. Shields; I won't make it easy for you."
"Always so uptight, Milesy," Ray teases with a grin. "Chill out, won't ya? Life's too short to be all business all the time."
Edgeworth smirks, shaking his head. "I'll leave the 'chilling out' to you. Someone needs to keep things proper around here."
Contrary to popular belief, the man that glimmers ever-so-brightly every time I see him may have instilled a change in my life, Edgeworth thinks to himself.
"You mentioned looking over my father's past cases?" he asks, changing the topic.
"Hm? Oh, yeah. Got myself tangled in a real head-scratcher, and my usual tricks aren't cutting it this time around. Figured I could use some of your old man's moves to crack this nut."
"Really now? That's admirable, but weren't you his apprentice at one point? Don't you have any notes on those cases from years past?"
"Well, let's just say 'consuming information' isn't meant to be taken literally." Ray smiles sheepishly while performing one of his signature air quotes.
Edgeworth raises an eyebrow, disbelief on his face. "Hold it! You actually consumed your notes? Quite literally? Well, that explains why your memory is so selective. It's a wonder how you've retained anything at all!"
Ray bursts into laughter, clapping his friend on the shoulder. "Hey, I was young and reckless back then! Paper doesn't taste great, by the way," he jokes, wiping a tear from his eye.
Edgeworth narrows his eyes. Well, one of those adjectives still rings true today...
"Yeah, but that's ancient history. We've both leveled up since those days," Ray chimed in with a grin.
Edgeworth raises an eyebrow. "Yes, I suppose we have," he says, rubbing the back of his head.
"But enough about my questionable dietary choices. Spill the tea, man!" Ray urges, steering the conversation in a new direction. "You look like you've got something on your mind. It's not every day you drop by just for a chat."
Edgeworth ponders for a moment. He hesitates, his usual composure faltering just a bit. But then, he gets a sneaky idea. "I'll tell you what, Shields. I'll give you three possible answers as to why I'm here, and you have to figure it out yourself. Is it choice A: I also need your legal expertise on a case I'm handling. Choice B: I'm here for a friendly game of chess to reminisce about old times. Or choice C: I'm here to propose a business deal."
Ray laughs heartily, clearly amused by Edgeworth's playful approach. "A multiple-choice quiz, huh? You always did have a flair for the dramatic," he teases, leaning back in his chair. "All right, I'll bite. Let's see if I can deduce why the legendary Miles Edgeworth has graced me with his presence today." Raymond places a hand under his chin. "If I remember right, you mentioned being swamped with work, so Choice A is on the menu. As for Choice B, I get it—being chief prosecutor can be tough. Maybe you just need to chill with a chess break. And Choice C? Man, I'm blushing! Who wouldn't be stoked if someone like you popped by for a collab? I'm sure I can whip up something epic for ya."
The chief prosecutor smirks, waiting to see which option the defense attorney will choose. What he doesn't know is...all the answers are wrong. Let's see him beat that!
Ray flashes his trademark grin, saying, "All right, I gotcha! You're here...because you're wrestling with some old baggage, trying to figure out if you're on the right track or not. So, you mosey on over here for some top-tier advice from yours truly, huh?"
Edgeworth's plan shatters before his eyes. "H-how did you...?"
"First off, you can't hustle the hustler, especially if he knows you inside out. Secondly, your peepers were a dead giveaway--got that deep, soulful look today, more about what's eating you than any courtroom drama or chill chess session. And lastly, your hesitation! Dude—it was like waving a big ol' flag saying 'This is personal.' Plus, it's no secret that you get a bit moody around the holidays, reflecting on the past and whatnot. It's like clockwork, you know? So, it wasn't too hard to piece it all together."
Edgeworth's eyes widen in surprise. "Well played, Shields," he concedes reluctantly, impressed by Ray's perceptive insight. "It seems your reading skills are as sharp as ever."
Raymond offers a small, understanding smile. He shrugs. "I've been there myself, Miles," he explains, his voice gentle. "I recognize that look of unease and uncertainty because I've faced it too. It's the kinda fight that hits hardest when it's just you against yourself, and trust me, going solo ain't always the way to win."
Edgeworth sighs, his gaze drifting to the floor. "It's frustrating, you know? To realize that so much of what I believed in was built on lies and deception. Every victory, every accolade...they now feel hollow, like they were awarded to someone else entirely." His voice carries a weight of disillusionment as he stares at his hands. For just a brief moment, the crimson hue of blood seems to seep through his fingers, a haunting reminder of the guilt he carries. For a fleeting moment, the weight of his past mistakes presses heavily upon him. "How does one rebuild when the foundation itself is cracked? I mean, I'm doing my best with my position as the chief prosecutor. But am I really making a difference? Or is it just a game? I'm not sure anymore. What if the Fates used my position as a way to punish me for all the wrong I've done? What if my whole life is an illusion?"
Tears blur his vision, threatening to fall. His mind flashes to a dimly lit courtroom. Shadows from his past whisper their names. He remembers them all: every single soul he has condemned through the way of von Karma. Accusations of his misdeeds echo through the corners of his mind. Although he knows the truth of one particular fate, he still can't shake the death of his own father. There he stands, his eyes burning with an intensity that does nothing but pierce his conscience.
A hand lands on his shoulder, and he freezes. One blink, everything is gone, leaving only the stark reality of his empty palms and the office itself.
Raymond squeezes Edgeworth's shoulder reassuringly. "Miles..." he says softly. "You're not flying solo in this mess. We all hit those rough patches, but remember, it's in facing these storms that we grow stronger. Your efforts to seek the truth and bring justice are genuine, and that's what counts. I mean, yeah, you played your part in this situation, but it's not like you chose to from the get-go, you know. You were pushed to conform by others. Manfred, Gant, even your old man inspired you to pursue this career. Good or bad. And, well, I gotta admit, I'm guilty as charged, too."
Edgeworth looks at the older attorney.
“You hit rock bottom. You lost your badge, your job, and your life. And I took advantage of that. I wanted to see you become a defense attorney, not because your father wanted you to, but because I still have some things I need to let go of. So, I kinda threw you under the bus.”
Ray hangs his head in shame.
“Gregory meant the world to me. He never gave up on his clients or his goals. When he kicked the bucket, I clung to you after losing my grip on him. I never even cared about your own feelings. I was just trying to keep his dream alive through you. And then, you rolled back into town years later…under von Karma's wing. That hit me hard.
"I continued your pop's legacy of standing up for the little guy, while you were out there putting them behind bars. I held that against you for ages. But, deep down, I knew it wasn’t on you. He took you in. You had no choice. Still, I acted like it was. After everything you've been through, I understand if you never forgive me. Heck, I don't think I can ever truly forgive myself. I was such a fool, letting my own grief blind me, trying to push you into a life that wasn't yours to live." He shakes his head, frustration evident. "I should have known better, but I was too wrapped up in my own pain to see clearly. I'm so sorry."
Ray's eyes are downcast, his voice filled with all sorts of negativity—remorse, guilt, vulnerability, anger, and more—as he bares the truth. Edgeworth somehow knows all of this, yet hearing it from the horse's mouth makes it all the more daunting. And it's not only because he's saying it. He can actually see it, feel it even. The wrinkles around the forty-two-year-old's eyes and smile are more apparent than when they last met. It's only then that Edgeworth realizes how much of a toll this ordeal has taken on him.
He sits quietly, absorbing Ray's words. His heart aches for the man who once guided him, now laid bare with guilt and regret. Despite the emotions swirling within him, Edgeworth feels a flicker of understanding and compassion, recognizing the shared pain that has shaped both their paths. It's clear what he says is true: he's not alone. Neither of them are.
He takes a deep breath, trying to steady the whirlwind of emotions within him. "We both lost him, and in our own ways, we've been trying to find a path forward without him. My father's death left a void that neither of us knew how to fill, and it's clear now that we've both been struggling to reconcile our pasts with our futures." He pauses, meeting Ray's eyes with a newfound understanding. "Perhaps it's time we stop letting that loss dictate our lives and start finding our own ways to honor his memory, start living them the way he would have wanted us to. We could look at those case files, see what his methods were, and take this case—and our lives—one step at a time together...if that's all right with you."
Ray pauses. Then, he nods in agreement. "Yeah. Yeah, I reckon that's a good idea. Um, Miles..."
Edgeworth looks on in wonder. "Yes?"
Raymond hesitates. “Do me a solid, yeah? If you get anything out of tonight, I want you to remember this: you never were a von Karma, you know. No matter what I said to you, no matter what you went through, you were always your old man's kid.”
Edgeworth's eyes widen, and a mix of relief and emotion washes over his face. The weight of years of self-doubt and guilt lifts from his shoulders. He absorbs the affirmation with clarity and peace. For the first time, he feels a connection to his late father's legacy, and for the right reason this time. He nods back, saying, “I will."
A small, tentative smile breaks through the heaviness on Ray's face, hinting at a glimmer of hope. His eyes, though still burdened with remorse, reflect a sense of relief and the possibility of redemption. It's only fair that the man sitting beside him returns the smile before they both stand.
"You go on ahead and get started. I'm gonna give the old shrine another look-see." Just as Raymond fixes on the picture before him, a hand firmly grasps his shoulder. He faces the man behind him. “Miles…everything okay?”
Edgeworth faces the floor, a hesitant look on his face. “Mr. Shields, I...” He tries to search for the right words, yet nothing comes to mind. In that instance, there is only one thing he can do. In a moment of sheer unexpectedness, Edgeworth pushes himself into the older attorney and wraps his arms around him, pulling him tight and almost knocking him over. He takes a deep breath, which comes out as a sniffle.
Raymond freezes. Overwhelmed by the sudden gesture, he returns it with the same force. One of his hands gently touches the back of Edgeworth’s head as tears stream down his face and he tightens his lips. While no words were spoken, so much was said in this very moment.
Once they pull apart, Raymond stretches. "Okay, I think that's enough sentimentality for one night! Let's get to cracking those cases!"
Edgeworth chuckles, wiping his tears. "Agreed."
They both turn toward the stacks of files on the table, ready to dive into their work with renewed vigor. As they settle into their chairs, the investigation progresses greatly. Outside, the carolers provide a warm ambience for the both of them. The night sky blankets the world in stars, a reminder of the endless possibilities that lie ahead. With their hearts lighter and their spirits lifted, they know that whatever challenges come their way, they will face them together, united by a bond as strong as the legacy that one man left behind.