[RL 36: Miscellaneous Scenes from a Vacation Taken During a Virus; Edgeworth, Phoenix][Backdated]

[the thin strip of paper is actually a strip of four photographs, the kind you'd get from a booth at a mall or a carnival. in the photos are two girls, one about sixteen or seventeen, he'd guess, the other much younger, and both are dressed in what look to him like Asian robes. what surprises him most aren't the two girls, however--it's who's sitting behind them]

[him]

[his frown deepens] Who...

[continues to watch him. from his position on the bed he can see only that it’s a strip of white paper, but from the question he guesses the strip is most likely a photograph or series of photographs; the girls, perhaps, as the other people closest to him—Larry, his parents, Edgeworth himself—should have still been recognizable.] If you’d show me what you’re looking at, I may be able to answer that for you.

[stares at it a moment longer and then, ignoring Miles, quickly sets the photo on the bed and continues digging through his wallet, his search turning frantic]

[ignores his searching in favor of picking the picture up from the sheets and studying it.]

...Your assistant and her young cousin. They’ve been a great help to you over the past few years. [the barest hint of a smile flashes across his lips.] ...To both of us.

[when it becomes clear that his search is futile, Phoenix throws the wallet on the bed, slamming his hands down with it]

Stop.

[breathing heavily, he braces himself against the mattress while his mind reels in a thousand directions]

I don't... I don't know those people. I... [he runs a hand through his hair, closing his eyes tightly to stave off a sudden wave of dizziness]

[looks up at Wright with no small touch of alarm, suddenly more concerned with how well he’s taking the news than with forcing him to take it. struggles for several beats, then continues in a tone meant to be reassuring, which turns out only quiet and a bit hesitant:] The effects of the...condition are only temporary, Wright. In a few days this farce will be over, you should remember everything.

[shakes his head] It's not a farce! I... [he closes his eyes just a little tighter, holding his breath for a few moments before slowly letting it out; his body seems to sag] ...I need to lie down for a second.

[wordlessly moves from the center of the bed to the far side, pulling his knees up again; briefly he considers retreating to somewhere else in the room, putting distance between them, but the possibility of Wright taking that as some form of rejection and the probable result keeps him on the bed.]

[crawls onto the bed, covering his face with his hands as he lies flat on his back; his muscles are trembling slightly]

I don't know what's going on. [he whispers after a moment, mostly to himself]

[watches him silently for a long while, struggling for something to say that might still that worrying shivering. finally averts his eyes to the bed in front of his feet, and offers, somewhat lamely:] You will. I... It’s difficult now, I understand, but...it won’t be for much longer.

Stop saying that. [most of the anger is gone from his voice, leaving him tired and bemused] Please.

[there has to be a logical explanation for this, he reasons; he didn't make up his memories. they aren't the result of some condition. what he knows is real, and whoever those girls in the pictures are--]

[he squeezes his eyes shut again, wondering if this is what it feels like to go crazy]

[shoots Wright a resigned look, tinged with regret, and goes quiet again. it seems they’ve gone beyond the need for proof, and he’s exhausted the few options he had left beyond that. it may be that time will be the only thing to help the man fully process the situation.]

[finally averts his eyes again, wearily cursing the community.]

[after a while, he lowers his hands and looks up at the ceiling, staying quiet while countless questions run through his head, over and over. he knows he's not crazy; Miles is the one who's not making any sense here, but...]

[...but he can honestly say he's never been more confused in his entire life]

[after another few moments pass, he finally says, as if trying to convince himself:] A picture is only a picture. It might prove or disprove one thing, but it doesn't prove or disprove everything.

[he turns his head to face Miles] I don't know who those people are, and I might not remember taking that picture... but that doesn't mean I'm wrong.

[rolls his eyes before turning to meet Wright’s gaze, but he’s prepared to present as much proof as is needed. at least this gives him something to do besides wait for cues.] A picture is only a picture, but the picture isn’t the only evidence available to you. The picture, my wardrobe...the car, this hotel room... [gestures toward the lavish suite, the striking ocean view]

You expressed doubt over my ability to afford any of it. The car itself was a gift, but it’s my second vehicle; the maintenance and registration alone are substantial in comparison to a— [slight wrinkling of his nose] Toyota, and my Benz was purchased and paid for in only a few years. And the dent this room made in my account wasn’t nearly as substantial as I intimated.

So what are you trying to say, Miles? [he props himself up on his elbow and glares at the other man, the response only serving to renew his anger] That everything I think--everything I know--is a lie? What about everything else, huh? My apartment, my job, what I ate for breakfast yesterday... Are you going to tell me none of that's real, either? That I imagined everything?

[an uncomfortable pause, then with a quiet clearing of his throat he averts his gaze. speaking pragmatically:] Perhaps not everything. Both sets of memories seem to share the same home address, and as far as I can determine your personality seems...largely intact. Your job, however, is quite different. You're self-employed and have your own office nearby; undoubtedly the location is one of the reasons you're in that particular apartment to begin with.

[another short pause] And I wouldn't know what you had for breakfast in either set of memories.

Bran flakes. [he answers tersely] And what am I, a self-employed Q-Mart cashier? I've worked there every day for the past three years, for crying out loud! You come to see me during the night shift sometimes!

[the man's tone is making it difficult to keep his frustration in check. still, when the conversation moves into that subject the irritation disappears, if only temporarily. he meets Wright's gaze again, intently studying his familiar features.] You're a lawyer, Wright; a defense attorney... The best I've ever had the pleasure of working with.

[eyes widen for a split second, and he stares, uncertain of how to even begin responding to that]

A lawyer... [shakes his head] Miles, aside from that... thing with Dahlia and the few times I've watched you, I've never stepped foot inside a courtroom before. You're the lawyer. You've said as much yourself. You and your dad have a law firm downtown, and he's going to hire me there because of what Q-Mart did with my hours. We talked about this!

[four simple words stand out above everything Wright says, and the rest are momentarily discarded. Edgeworth's eyes widen, his back straightens rigidly.] You were still involved in the Swallow case?

[the unexpected digression throws Phoenix off, and he has to mentally back up before he can reply]

Yes...? What does that have to do with anything?

Your defense in that case, Ms. Mia Fey... Did you keep contact with her after the trial?

[ignores the question for the moment, intent on probing for the depth of the differences. a small voice in the back of his mind is musing, "Even in his virus-induced delusions you..."]

[frowns deeply; and here he thought they might have found a fact they could agree upon...]

Miles, my defense in that case was your dad.

...Ah. [averts his gaze in a bid to hide the thing crumpling behind his eyes. his voice is suddenly flat.] It was...Ms. Fey, actually. From what I understand, she performed admirably in the trial, defended you and...later mentored you, when you chose to enter law.

[risks a glance at him, fairly assured that his expression is now controlled.] Your assistant--the older one in the picture--is her sister.

[Phoenix can't help the groan that escapes him; he pushes himself into a seated position and hangs his head in his hands, at a complete and utter loss]

I don't know any 'Fey's, okay? That trial happened six years ago. [looks up] I have a clear memory of the whole thing, and your dad is the one who defended me.

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