Manny McPhee

Phoenix couldn't have possibly predicted it, but Trucy fell madly in love with Miles practically overnight.

Phoenix came downstairs the morning after he'd hired the man to find them drawing some elaborate pictures together. He peeked over Miles' shoulder and saw that Trucy's appeared to be sketches of dresses. Very small dresses.

"Whatcha doing there?" He asked, and Miles stiffened. Trucy was all too eager to tell.

"Miles can sew clothes! We're gonna make the coolest dress ever for my next magic show and he's gonna be my assistant and have a matching outfit!"

Phoenix grinned down at Miles, who was deliberately hiding his face.

"Is that so? And did you decide all that while I was gone?" Phoenix's eyes flickered down to the stack of books near Miles, a stack made up entirely of books on magic tricks. It seemed that magicians always did wear pretty grand outfits, but that usually the girl was the assistant.

"Look at our sketches, daddy!" Trucy insisted, shoving her many papers into his hands in fistfuls. Trucy had designed the dresses and Miles had taken the sketches as reference for his matching suits.

He watched them sketch for a few minutes, and then kissed Trucy goodbye as she bolted out the door to catch her bus. Miles smiled softly as he watched her go, and once the door was shut, Phoenix shrugged.

"So you're also a tailor?"

"Children ruin their clothes all the time, so I found it necessary to learn basic sewing rather early in my career. The rest came from making Halloween costumes, actually."

Phoenix giggled, and Miles sighed.

"Oh, that's cute. I didn't even think of that," Phoenix said as he made his way to the kitchen, and he couldn't help but notice that Miles looked mildly disgruntled. Maybe he was embarrassed? He gestured at him to follow, and he did, albeit slowly. Phoenix started moving things on the countertop. After a minute Miles cleared his throat.

"...Does she actually know how to do all of the basic tricks? Because she is VERY determined to saw me in half, and I fear somewhat for my safety."

Phoenix laughed so hard at that that he nearly dropped the coffee beans. Miles didn't seem to think it was very funny.

"You— you know that no one actually gets cut into, right? It's just an illusion."

"I <i>know</i> that, but she keeps... She keeps..."

"Cackling?"

"Yes!"

Phoenix laughed again, and Miles seemingly relaxed and joined him in it.

"She's a little weird, I know, but... She's great," Phoenix said. Miles nodded in agreement.

"...So what was it you wanted?" He asked after Phoenix fell silent. He jumped up from his spot at the coffeemaker.

"Oh, sorry! I wanted to know if you wanted breakfast. I mean, you don't have to stick around while Trucy's at school. You've got a life of your own. But I figure we should probably get to know each other seeing as you'll practically be living here."

"...Alright. I can help, if you want. I should get as used to this kitchen as possible."

Phoenix tried to insist on doing it alone at first, but eventually capitulated to Miles' request. He made bagels and coffee while Miles made eggs and bacon— which Phoenix could hardly argue with, as the best he could do was prepare sausages.

Phoenix was surprised to learn that Miles took his coffee nearly black. He himself was the kind of guy who put so much creamer and sugar in it that it hardly qualified as coffee by the time he was done with it, but Miles gulped down the hot bitter drink like it was nothing. He shrugged at Phoenix's perplexed glance.

"I prefer tea, usually, and the kind I drink is often quite bitter. I don't do too well with sweets... Unlike you, apparently."

Phoenix glanced down at his own cup, noticing how much paler his liquid looked, and laughed nervously. He took a few bites of his breakfast before striking up a conversation.

"So. How long have you been in the business?"

"I started just after graduating. A friend of mine recommended it as a starting point— I wanted to be a therapist originally. I found that the work allowed me to get a bit more personal, so I stayed."

"And why'd you decide to work without an agency?"

"The local agencies are good for getting started, certainly, but they're full of shallow young women who don't take the job very seriously and overzealous bosses who establish lots of arbitrary rules. I left as soon as I developed a good list of references."

"Where, uh, where did you grow up?"

"Here, for the most part. I did live in Europe for a while, but I came back as soon as I gained my independence."

Phoenix nearly dropped his fork.

"<i>Europe?!</i> Where?!"

"Germany. Cologne, mostly, but sometimes Berlin."

"Can you speak German?"

"Well, I didn't have much choice but to learn it, and it turned out to be remarkably easy for me. It's how I learned I have a knack for languages, and now it's something of a hobby of mine."

"How many do you speak?"

"Let me think... Putting English aside, my German, French, and Spanish are fluent, my Italian and Portuguese need some polishing, and I'm just starting to learn Russian. If we're only including those I'd consider sufficient, I speak four."

Phoenix whistled. He really <i>was</i> lucky to have nabbed this guy.

"But enough about me," Miles piped up. "What about you? Why law school?"

Phoenix chuckled and scratched the back of his head. He wasn't anywhere near as impressive as his nanny.

"Well... I was in the debate club in high school. And even though I was far from the smartest guy in the room, I tend to think a little outside the box, and I'm good at bluffing— at convincing people I'm a lot more confident in my argument than I actually am. So... Law school."

Miles stopped eating and stared at him for a moment. Phoenix wondered if he'd said something stupid, or perhaps offensive. He'd said his father was a lawyer, after all. But after a second, he laughed and shook his head.

"Those traits certainly lend themselves to a career as a defense attorney. My father always said that if something seemed impossible or wrong, he'd just turn the situation around and think about it backwards, and usually some discrepancy would come to light that way."

Phoenix breathed a sigh of relief. He glanced at his watch and saw that time had flown by rather quickly, and he had to be at work soon.

"Going already?"

"Y-Yeah, sorry. You'll be on call in case Trucy gets sick and needs to go home or something, but you can do whatever you want until school lets out. You don't have to hang around here."

Miles looked around the house, deep in thought, before answering.

"I think I'll get myself properly settled in. Do you mind if I look through some of Trucy's clothes? I want to see what I can do about her costume."

"Oh, wait, come with me!" Phoenix chirped, and he led Miles to a colorful chest. It was in the living room, hidden in the corner of the room between couch and armchair. He knelt down to open it up. "Her magic stuff is in here. All her props, her hats, and her costumes. It's convenient to keep it down here for when she wants to put on a show for guests."

"That's sweet of you," Miles said somewhat teasingly, and Phoenix blushed. He saw the nanny kneel down in front of the box as he left the condo and said his goodbyes.

—————————————

"<i>Phoenix Wright</i>."

Phoenix nearly jumped out of his skin. He hadn't been addressed in a stern tone like that since he was a child. He crept slowly and carefully into the kitchen, and it was there that he caught the full force of a glare, the kind that could only be delivered by steel-grey eyes.

Miles had made himself quite at home over the course of the two weeks he'd been living there. Phoenix had gotten so used to his presence that he'd started ordering three portions of foods when he was out, just in case Miles wanted some too, and had started calling out to him to verify where Miles was when he stepped into the house.

Trucy was constantly attached to his hip. Whenever people asked who he was, she would introduce him not as her nanny, but as her "bestest friend in the whole wide world", and Miles had never once corrected her. Phoenix would then be left to explain the situation quietly to the interested party. Men would either laugh or ask why he'd chosen to hire a man, and women would squeal and swoon and giggle.

<i>Miles gets an awful lot of attention</i>, Phoenix had noticed with a flare of jealousy. On top of being ridiculously smart AND handsome, he could also play the piano. It was downright frustrating sometimes. But then he'd watch as Miles played a song on Trucy's little keyboard and she put her all into the singing and dancing portion of the performance, and all of his anger would fade in an instant. She was happy.

Phoenix wasn't sure when it had happened, but Miles had taken on something of a guiding role in <i>his</i> life as well as Trucy's. It wasn't uncommon to be scolded by him, particularly when he stayed up all night studying, but he hadn't heard this particular tone before. He gulped before answering.

"Wh-What is it?" He forced an inconspicuous smile.

"What's this about you not knowing how to cook <i>anything?</i>"

Trucy was standing on a stool near the counter, and had apparently been watching Miles prepare to cook their dinner. She was giving her father a disapproving look. After a moment it changed to a knowing smirk.

<i>You love watching your dad get scolded, don't you?</i> Phoenix thought, giving her a stern glance that she returned by sticking out her tongue at him.

"Th-That's not true, I can make sausage! And burgers, and hot dogs!"

"That's not <i>cooking</i>, that's... That's essentially microwaving with a pan!"

"Microwa— that doesn't even make any sense!"

"All you need to do is spray the pan, cook the meat, and flip it over every once in a while, right? Do you even season it?!"

Phoenix bit his lip and looked at the ground, and Miles rubbed the bridge of his nose and groaned.

"Look, if you expect to raise a child you'll need basic cooking skills. Not just for her, but for you, too! You aren't getting the nutrients that your brain needs for—"

"I can't take you seriously in that apron."

Trucy, who'd been giggling the whole time, started laughing so hard she had to jump down from her stool so that she wouldn't fall down. Miles put his hands on his hips, which only brought more attention to his frilly-edged apron.

"I didn't buy it!" He argued.

"It's pink."

"<i>I. Didn't. Buy it.</i>"

Phoenix realized he was getting Miles off topic and thought that maybe, just maybe, he had found an escape route. Trucy, as sharp as ever, was eying him even as she continued to laugh. She was onto him.

"You look like a girl—"

"You have <i>five seconds</i> to get over here and let me show you how to boil water before I boycott your breakfast tomorrow morning," Miles interrupted.

"But I'm paying you to take care of my daughter!"

"I said YOUR breakfast."

"Yeah, daddy! No breakfast for you!" Trucy jeered. Phoenix sighed and moved to stand near the counter. Miles gave him a condescending pat on the head before forcing him to pay attention to the stove.

Everything went relatively well at first. Phoenix watched how one rose water to a boil, and Miles went to get the pasta and the tomato sauce and the ground beef. Phoenix was charged with getting the spices and cutting vegetables.

Everything went well up until the moment that Miles stood next to Phoenix and moved to cut open the plastic wrap around the beef and Phoenix colossally fumbled in his attempt to cut an onion. The next thing he knew, Trucy was shrieking and punching him in the side and Miles was clutching his hand and biting his lip so hard that it had to hurt. Phoenix gawked at him for a moment before he put together what had happened.

"Oh, God, I cut your hand open, didn't I?!"

"...I... cannot believe... That you even <i>managed</i> that. Maybe I shouldn't be teaching you how to cook! Maybe it's best for everyone that you be allowed nowhere near a kitchen!"

"The stove, daddy, turn down the stove! Move the pot or the water will spill!"

<i>Trucy knows more about kitchens than I do</i>, Phoenix realized as he frantically threw open drawers in search of the first aid kit. He moved the pot off of the burner and turned the stove down, careful not to spill it.

"I don't think there's any blood on the beef," Miles muttered to himself. He appeared to be wiping the countertop.

<i>Is that what you should be worrying about right now?!</i>

He found the first aid kit and seized Miles by the wrist, guiding him to the couch. Trucy continued to scold him as he knelt in front of the nanny and made him uncurl his hands so he could look at the wound. He instantly cringed.

It was nothing that required a hospital visit, but it was a pretty good cut nonetheless. The placement looked quite painful. The gash was in the skin right between where thumb met palm, and he had to stretch his fingers out to expose the wound. There was almost no way to hold the hand that didn't hurt.

"You injured me. You actually <i>injured me</i>. That's never happened before."

"I didn't mean to, I swear to god! I'm so SO sorry!" He cleaned the wound and the excess blood, ignoring the hiss that escaped through Miles' teeth. Trucy had stopped shouting and now looked like she was trying not to cry. Miles assured her that he was alright, that her "idiot father" hadn't hit a nerve or anything serious. Phoenix couldn't really argue with him at this point. Miles hadn't even been holding a knife, and he ended up with a cut somehow.

It seemed that even after bandaging, the wound hurt, and made if difficult for Miles to use his hand. His face twisted into a cocky smirk.

"As for your punishment, you have to finish dinner by yourself. I won't touch a thing."

"Punishment?! I'm paying you!"

"And you injured me while I was on the job! Think of it as worker's compensation!"

...He couldn't argue with that, either.

Phoenix was forced to learn how to sauté beef and onions and how to cook and drain pasta the hard way: by doing it himself, with only vague instruction from Miles, who sat at the counter and watched with that smirk still in place.

He plated the food for the three of them, and Trucy did her best impression of a food critic as she thoughtfully chewed. Miles watched her, refusing to try it himself until he got her seal of approval.

"...It's good!" She said, and Phoenix felt his head slam down onto the table as he let out a long noise of pent-up frustration turning into immense relief.

"A little salty, but acceptable," Miles added.

"Wow, thanks," Phoenix groaned. Miles pointed at his bandaged hand and raised an eyebrow, and Phoenix laughed nervously and mouthed an apology.

It was the first of many dinners Phoenix reluctantly prepared with limited guidance. Before long, he was cooking every night he was home in time to do so, and after a while, Miles stopped criticizing his use of seasoning. It seemed Phoenix wasn't as bad at home-making as he'd suspected.

—————————————

Three more weeks passed, during which Trucy's first school talent show of the year drew closer and closer by the day. Miles worked continuously on a costume, and was apparently working on something at home for himself using clothes he already had. Phoenix reacted strangely to that comment— he'd forgotten that Miles <i>had</i> an apartment of his own.

The talent show came on a Saturday, and Phoenix planned for someone else to take his notes for him and took the day off from school. He planned to change his classes next year so that he wouldn't have to go in the evening.

He'd gone out to shop for groceries, leaving Miles and Trucy to prepare by themselves. They had gotten permission to let Trucy use him as her assistant, and she did intend to saw him in half. He threw open the door and pushed inside the house with bags of food under both of his arms.

"Honey, I'm hooooome!"

He was immediately hit in the face with a stuffed rabbit from the direction of the living room. Gently, though. More of a half-hearted toss than a throw.

"That's <i>very funny</i>, Mr. Wright."

Phoenix frowned at the continued use of his last name as he walked into the living room to find both Miles and Trucy.

"I told you you don't have to call me that," he reminded the nanny, who only shrugged. He didn't look up from Trucy. He seemed to be adjusting her hat, or making sure something would stay in place.

"It's professional."

"It's weird!" Phoenix shouted, as he was now halfway down the hall to the kitchen. He put the food away and then made his way to the living room.

"I don't call you <i>Mr. Edgeworth</i>, do I?" He asked. Miles looked a bit guilty for a moment, but didn't answer him. He finished adjusting Trucy's outfit, and she did a twirl.

"Don't we look awesome, daddy?!" Phoenix looked the two of them up and down and had to admit he was impressed.

They seemed to have some sort of theme going. Trucy's dress, while it was still short and seemed suitable to a magician's show, was rather classical, almost Victorian, in style. Her red silk top hat had a fancy feather decoration on it now, and had a black ribbon around it. Miles had on a well-fitted red tailcoat with a black collar. He wore a black vest with gold buttons over a white dress shirt and black slacks. Both wore nice leather boots that had been well-polished.

"You guys look great! Are we ready to go?"

Trucy double-checked her bag, which Miles wore over one shoulder, and nodded. She'd gotten halfway to the door when she suddenly stopped and gasped.

"Miles, your neck puff!!"

"Oh, goodness, you're right. Where <i>is</i> my neck puff?" Miles replied, looking around the room.

"...Your what?" Phoenix asked, and just then Miles straightened his stance again and started to tie something around his neck.

"It's actually called a cravat," he whispered. "But we're calling it a neck puff for now."

Phoenix laughed, and then ushered them into the car. He drove them to the school and took his seat amongst the other parents in the audience. The woman next to him asked where his wife was, and scowled at him when he said he didn't have one. He paid her no mind— he'd gotten used to that sort of silent judgement.

He sat through boring and cringe-worthy acts, one after the other. He guessed that the important thing was for the kids to be having fun, but he knew he'd have been embarrassed at their age. Trucy had insisted on going last, on being the finale. Teachers had tried to tell her this meant she was the one people would remember, and she replied that that's <i>why</i> she wanted to close.

Trucy and Miles appeared with some kind of smoke bomb, it seemed. There was a bang, a flash of lights, and faint smoke, and then they appeared. Phoenix was genuinely unsure of how she'd pulled that one off. The woman on the other side of him asked him who "that man" was, and he explained that it was her nanny. This lady apparently wasn't as judgmental, and said she thought it was sweet that Miles was so attached to Trucy.

Trucy managed to successfully saw Miles in half, and pulled her stuffed rabbit out of her hat, and did a few card tricks in which she called up a member of the audience. The magical duo did a bow as the crowd stood to clap and cheer, and Miles laughed when he heard Phoenix scream "that's my daughter!!" over the roar of the crowd.

He met them backstage, where Trucy was being fussed over by a few teachers and other kid's parents. He waved to Miles, who smiled at him.

"So, we've been meaning to ask, but who exactly are you, sir?" The teacher asked Miles, and he blushed as he fumbled for a response.

<i>I guess he kind of forgot, huh?</i> Phoenix thought, chuckling.

"He's my bestest friend!" Trucy exclaimed, and she hugged him from the side.

"I'm <i>also</i> the nanny and housekeeper," Miles added, draping an arm around the tiny magician as best he could with the difference in height.

"Oh, how sweet! You like your nanny an awful lot, don't you Trucy?"

Trucy nodded, and smiled sweetly up at Miles.

"He reminds me of my mama before she went to heaven, and when she wasn't sick," Trucy murmured, her smile turning somewhat sad.

Phoenix didn't know to describe the look on Miles' face.

—————————————

"Um... You were asking about Trucy's mom."

Miles paused his movements with this cravat and looked to Phoenix, his expression momentarily guilty. Trucy had been sent to bed as soon as they'd gotten home, and Phoenix could plainly see that Miles had been attempting to decipher the girl's comment in his head.

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. I just want to know more about Trucy. These things are important."

"They are," Phoenix agreed. "And it's why I think you should know."

Miles stared ahead for a moment, then continued fiddling with his cravat. Phoenix took the silence as permission to continue and took a deep breath.

"She was a friend of mine from high school, and she had a problem with drugs."

Miles couldn't hide his surprise.

"Drugs...?"

"I think heroin, mostly. Painkillers, too. She tried to get clean a bunch of times. That's why Trucy already knew me and already sort of thought of me as her dad... I was constantly having her sleep here while her mom was too high to think, or in the hospital from an overdose, or supposedly in rehab. At a certain point I was the only stable thing in her life. Uncle Nick."

Miles' face formed a hard frown.

"That... That's <i>awful</i>. Where is she now?"

Phoenix blinked, and then he looked away, feeling a familiar burn in the corners of his eyes.

"She's... She's not anywhere. She's dead."

"...I should have known that. Trucy said she's in heaven," Miles muttered to himself, clearly feeling bad for having asked. Phoenix shook his head. <i>Don't worry about it</i>, he tried to say.

"She came to me with Trucy and lots of money and made me swear to look after her. She promised she was gonna get clean, once and for all, but that she needed to settle some debts first. I believed her, and she dissapeared... Three months passed and I didn't hear a word from her. Trucy would constantly ask me where her mother was, and then... One day she started calling me <i>daddy</i>, and she stopped asking where mommy had gone. Almost like she'd been expecting it. I got the call that same day... That they'd found her."

"An overdose?"

"No. Crueler than that, actually. I think she really did mean it this time, that she wanted to quit... But she pissed off the wrong dealer, I guess. She was shot. The last thing she did was sign everything over to me, and just like that, I had a daughter."

Miles' brow was so heavily furrowed now that his eyebrows nearly touched in the center. He must have had a habit of doing that, Phoenix mused. It would explain the permanent little crease there.

"Does... Does Trucy know—"

"I've never directly said to her 'Trucy, your mother was a drug addict and a dealer shot her in the head', if that's what you mean. But... She knows mommy's not with us anymore, and that she was 'sick'."

"...<i>Before she was sick</i>. She meant... She meant when she wasn't high or in withdrawal, right?"

"Yeah. She was a really nice girl once, but the drugs destroyed her. ...I always did whatever she needed me to, no questions asked. Sometimes I wonder if things would have turned out differently if I had put my foot down—"

"No," Miles interrupted. "No, don't do that. You are not responsible for what became of her, and you did all you could. Trucy has a safe home now. That's what matters."

Miles' face flushed, and he looked away. He'd gotten uncharacteristically emotional and seemed to be embarrassed about it now. After a minute he gulped, and then changed the subject somewhat.

"...That explains it, then. Her sudden attatchment... She can tell. Children are surprisingly attuned to these things."

Phoenix quirked an eyebrow and sat up to better face him.

"What is it? What can she tell?"

Miles sighed.

"...My father was a lawyer. And he raised me alone until I was nine. But... Well, there was this earthquake at the law offices, and half of the building caved in, and then... People were trapped in the rubble—"

"Oh, God. I'm sorry I asked." Phoenix wanted to pinch himself. Being crushed to death by rubble or suffocated for lack of oxygen wasn't a pretty way to go, and Miles surely didn't like being reminded of it.

"It's... It's fine. The point is, I lost my father very suddenly that day. I was only a year or so older than Trucy is now. And unlike her, I didn't end up with a new family that loved me. I got plenty of money from that man, but he was no father, of that I can assure you."

Phoenix couldn't help but wonder who that man was and why he spoke of him with such vehement hatred, but that wasn't important now.

"I was terrified of earthquakes for a long while. I would lose consciousness every time I felt one. But the school I attended took such things very seriously, and appointed me to a school psychologist. ...She was my saving grace." He smiled sadly, and for a moment Phoenix didn't know what to say. He hadn't expected this level of honesty or depth.

After a moment he decided it made perfect sense. Miles was so passionate about what he did, and did it for love rather than a need of money. Up until now Phoenix had been unable to determine where it came from, how someone like him had ended up in this profession. Now, it all fit.

"...And that's why you went into child psychology. To make sure other kids got the help they needed," Phoenix murmured, mostly to himself, and Miles nodded.

Phoenix felt self-conscious all of a sudden. He guessed it was because he wasn't used to talking so seriously or openly with someone. His embarrassment must have showed on his face, because Miles laughed suddenly.

"Has anyone ever told you you're incredibly easy to read?"

"Pretty much on a daily basis, actually," Phoenix admitted.

Miles stood and bid him goodnight, and picked up his cravat and jacket and vest and made his way upstairs. Phoenix stayed on the couch for only another minute or so, and then he slowly trudged up the stairwell. He stopped when he noticed Trucy's bedroom door slightly ajar and paused to look inside.

Miles sat gingerly on the edge of the bed, careful not to wake her. He was talking, very quietly, to no one in particular. When he'd finished, he smiled down at the sleeping girl and brushed stray hairs from her forehead, and then he leaned in to give her a gentle kiss on the top of the head.

Phoenix held his breath as he watched, and he was suddenly perplexed. Miles didn't know that he was being watched, and Trucy was asleep, so for whose benefit was he doing this?

After a moment it occurred to him that the answer was quite simple— Miles loved Trucy.

Phoenix smiled as he quietly scurried away to his own bedroom and easily fell asleep, feeling safe and warm.