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Part 1 of Ace Attorney: Wings of Gold
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WrightWorth, Military fics
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Published:
2020-04-16
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2020-04-23
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40/40
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Mighty Wings

Chapter 27: Commitments

Summary:

TW: Kristoph Gavin has short hair...

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Chapter 27

Commitments

Miles blinked at her, "I'm sorry, Ma'am, I didn't catch any of that."

That's it, it's over…

Special Agent Oldbag leaned forward toward him and smiled, "I said that other whippersnapper has no clue what he's talking about. These twerps are bad eggs."

You've managed to push him away again…

Miles sighed and leaned away from her, "I'm not worried about whether or not they're good or bad. We're just looking for the truth," he looked at his hands clasped on the table in front of him, "The truth is, there isn't enough evidence to convict them."

He's had enough…

"JAGgey-poo," she cooed looking through her eyelashes at him, Miles slid his chair back from the table.

You’ve ruined it again…

"Now see here," he was suddenly stern wagging a finger at her, "if you haven't found anything new by now, I think we should end this investigation and we'll get with the embassy and we'll bring those boys home."

It's over…

Her glare hardened momentarily and her mouth fell into a scowl. Then she smiled at him sweetly, like a grandmother doting on a grandchild, "Edgey, sweetie… You're young, of course you have a hard time understanding…"

He's gone…

"Understanding what exactly? None of them—not a one— has ever seen her. The local police refused to even try to collect physical evidence—"

For good…

"This is a foreign country," she pursed her lips and met his eye and for the first time he could see the shrewd investigator before him, "Girls back home might get it, but can you imagine how traumatic it might be for her to be looked at like that? After what happened?"

Forever…

He stared, choking back emotion that had nothing to do with the conversation before him, "Please, excuse me."

Miles stood abruptly and left the small office, Gumshoe was standing outside and immediately stepped in beside him, "Is everything good then?"

Miles swallowed, they could've chosen a better place to do this…

"Chief, why don't you take them back to the ship, and come back later? Or if it takes you away from your duties, I'll make my way back on my own."

Miles didn't wait for Chief to reply but pushed into the bathroom and walked to the furthest stall and locked himself inside. He leaned against the beaten metal door, painted a sickly green tinged beige, and pointed his head toward the ceiling. Then he cried. He squeezed his eyes shut trying to contain it, bit his lips so as not to shout too. Sobs racked his chest.

Oh what terrible timing…. It wasn't supposed to go this way at all…

He started to unbutton his jacket and hung it on the hook on the back of the stall door, then he sat on the toilet and hugged himself and cried some more.

He heard the main door creak open and held his breath, trying to stifle his sobs, "Hey Miles," It was Lang calling to him across the bathroom, "Chief's going to take us back to the ship. I guess we'll see you later."

The door closed, and he was alone again with his grief.

'We'll see you later…' I doubt he wants to see me any time soon…

Miles sat still a while longer, he was calm again. His eyes burned though and a sob still forced its way through now and again. He glared at the floor and the artificial light glinting off of his patent leather shoes.

'I just don't understand how you think this is okay? I'm always waiting on you…'

Miles remembered that day all too clearly. It haunted him. Those dark eyes, shining with barely repressed tears, accusing. Pleading. Angry. Hurt…

He was nineteen, and Nick almost. He was only back for a visit—because he was going back again. Because it was a once in a lifetime opportunity.

'I want you to be happy…'

Phoenix had laid it all out then and there. Why on earth was he surprised at this?

'But I don't know how you can expect me to be happy waiting around here forever…'

Miles shook his head, still glaring at his shoes and the worn linoleum of the floor, "I'm sorry. Again I'm sorry…"

'At some point, I'm going to go my own way…'

Miles wiped his face with his hand and unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirt so he could pull them up near his elbows and opened the stall to wash his face in the sink.

'And you'll just have to let me go…'

Special Agent Oldbag was still waiting when he returned—it must've been a half-hour later. She looked at him once and then refused to look at his face. Did she recognize what had happened? Did he look angry or mean?

They ended up leaving the sad NEX building and walking back toward her office. He had little to say, preoccupied with his own personal dilemma, but he knew he still had a job to do.

"Give it a few more days then," he told her as they entered the small square building that housed the NCIS field office, "I'm going to reach back to RLSO Naples to see if they can send legal counsel. I guess if we have to take this to court, we have to take this to court."

"Doesn't the ship leave tomorrow?"

"They can get underway without me." Maybe it would be better all around if she did.

Miles walked off NSA via the main foot gate and called Chief. Chief wouldn't have time to come back. So Miles walked toward the nearest cab stand, which wasn't far at all—the local cabbies probably made brisk business on the young sailors trapped out here and looking for a little escape.

It was expensive to ride out to the pier, but at least it was direct and he walked into the complex—droves of sailors in civilian clothes crowded the pier—and that impression he'd had of a fairground returned to him.

He didn't linger but made his way onboard and made a beeline for the 0-3 Level and walked straight into Flag Admin. He was startled to find Lang standing there, having exchanged his blues for his NWUs, and talking with Lieutenant Yew. He must've frowned.

"Welcome back JAGgey-poo," Lang grinned and Yew stifled a laugh.

"Do you know if XO is in?" Miles pointedly ignored him.

"He's in his Stateroom now, but hurry," Yew said, "he and Skipper were going to join the crew for their last night on the pier."

Miles gave her a curt nod and turned to follow the blue tile to the executive passageway and jogged up the ladder with its rails decorated with rope and knots, recalling some ancient habit learned from the days of sailing ships.

He banged on XO's door and was startled when the man opened it himself rather than call him in. A steward was clearing his table of dishes and cutlery, obviously following an intimate meal with someone. XO went back to sit on his bed—he had a bed—to finish blousing his pants.

"Is that you, JAG?"

"Yes sir," Miles stepped in and brought himself stiffly to attention.

"When are these guys coming back aboard?"

Miles frowned and shrank a little where he stood, in the confines of the stateroom XO seemed all the more imposing, "Not before she gets underway, Sir."

XO's normally jovial face darkened menacingly, "What the hell is going on now?"

"Sir, the local magistrate plans to push forward with an indictment hearing, despite the lack of evidence."

XO frowned, "What's going to happen to those Sailors?"

"Well Sir, RLSO will be sending legal counsel for their defense and the State Department is continuing to assist. I can stay as well and see this through."

"Is there a chance this will end in a favorable resolution?"

"I'm quite sure sir," Miles said, "I think this indictment is mostly for show. There are a lot of Borginians unhappy with our presence here and the spectacle of three sailors in court was just too much of a propaganda opportunity to pass up. Whether or not they can actually be indicted, they'll have a chance to splash this all over the media."

XO slapped his hand to his forehead, "An international scandal…"

Miles raised his chin, "I really don't think they have a leg to stand on. This has become mostly a diplomatic ploy—albeit one that is weak and rather ill advised."

XO looked at him solemnly, "So you think you'll still be able to bring them back?"

"Of course, sir," Miles gave him a forced, tight-lipped smile, "It's just going to take me a few more days."

XO leveled his piercing green eyes at him, "You do what you need to do, JAG."

"Aye Sir."

Miles felt suddenly drained as he made his way down the ladder and back into the executive passageway. He turned absently and found himself in the squadron spaces, where the passages were decorated with their garish symbols and every hatch painted in a show of unit pride. He almost started crying again.

He managed to keep it reigned in and made his way quickly through the familiar 0-3 level and back to his berthing. He was relieved to find that Lang was not there and took off his blues and hung them up before gathering his shower things and going to the head.

The head too was deserted and Miles was grateful for these rare minutes of privacy. He was worried he'd cry again, he certainly felt like he would, but he seemed to have poured most of it out in that dingy little bathroom at NSA.

It was early but they were at liberty, so he went back to his stateroom and climbed into his rack. Phoenix was probably out there anyway. Showing away and making people laugh. No he couldn't dare go out onto the pier tonight.

He slept fitfully and awoke early to the dim stateroom. He was surprised to see Lang sitting at the desk and writing by the light of a headlamp. He looked grim and very focused about his task.

"Shi-Long," Miles whispered.

"Good morning, Miles," his voice was clipped, "Are you up for the day?"

"Yes," Miles continued to stare at him. Was he upset? He seemed so serious.

"You don't mind if I turn on the light then?"

"Not at all."

Lang flipped the light on his head lamp to red and then got up to turn on the overhead light. He turned off his headlamp and stowed it before returning to his task without so much as a glance at Miles.

Miles blinked in the sudden brightness of the room, his place on the top rack put him a little too close to the naked lightbulb that lit their room. He took a few moments to let his eyes adjust, before climbing down from his rack.

He moved to the lockers, very close to the desk, and retrieved his overnight bag and tossed it onto his rack, and then he pulled out his mesh laundry bag and gathered what laundry he had, mostly uniform clothes, and then changed into a clean set of NWUs.

Lang didn't seem to notice him at all.

Miles glanced at him as he buttoned the pants and then slipped the khaki colored riggers belt through his belt loops, "Are you writing letters?"

Lang paused and turned his head but did not meet his eye, "Why yes, Miles. Some of us still remember how to do things this way."

He returned to his letters without any more comments. Miles tightened his belt and clasped it and then sat on the deck to put on his boots. Lang scoffed suddenly and balled up the letter he was working on, tossing it toward the other side of the stateroom.

"I was going to wash my laundry, if you have anything you need me to wash."

"No thank you, Miles," Lang said and turned his glare on him.

"Is something the matter?"

Lang sighed and shook his head, "They're my sailors, and we'll be getting underway without them."

Miles frowned.

"So I'm writing their mothers…"

His eyes widened at the revelation and he stared at Lang.

"I e-mailed them yesterday," Lang continued, "So I could get word to them quickly, but I find the mothers appreciate a handwritten letter."

"It's going to be all right, I'm staying to see to it."

Lang eyed him sidelong frowning, "Are you staying for them or for yourself, I wonder?"

Miles' glare darkened and he stood to grab his things, "Please don't."

Then he left Lang to his letters and went to put in his laundry. He took his time getting his things sorted and into the machines, letting his mind go blank as he focused on his task. He filled out the log on the clipboard hung up in the cramped space and returned reluctantly to his stateroom.

Lang was standing at the door talking to someone Miles didn't recognize. He was of middling height, with his salt and pepper hair cropped short, and wearing his NWUs. The man turned to look at him and Miles recognized the eagle with arrows in its talons embroidered in sliver on his collar.

He stopped at once, "Good morning, Captain."

The Skipper eyed him with slight amusement, "JAG… You bring those boys back, you hear?"

"Yes, sir," Miles said, a little shaken at being addressed so directly.

"Have a good one, gentlemen," Skipper said and then turned to leave.

Lang eyed Miles coldly and went back into the stateroom, but he left the door ajar for him to follow. Lang's letters were sealed and addressed on the tidy desk and Miles noted with curiosity that there were four of them. Only three sailors had been detained.

Miles walked into the room and dragged his bag down from his rack and he started to pack.

"When do you head out?"

"Soon," Miles said arranging his things in his bag, "I have to wait for my laundry, but obviously I have to be off before they bring up the gangplank."

Lang nodded soberly, he was still standing near the door, though it was closed now, his arms crossed over his chest and his expression solemn. Miles had never seen him so serious, it was more frightening than Lang in the throes of his anger.

"So Skipper came to talk to you," Miles wasn't really that concerned about it, but he didn't want the silence. Anything was better than the silence.

"I'm kind of a big deal," Lang said without any of the usual energy or mirth.

Miles put his partially packed bag back onto his rack and looked at Lang.

"I could mail your letters while I'm ashore," he offered.

Lang nodded solemnly, lips pursed. Miles noticed the movement of sinew in his cheek as he clenched and unclenched his jaw.

"I believe they're innocent," Miles added trying to placate him.

"I've never doubted them," Lang muttered, "I just…. I don't know what I'll say to the rest of my sailors, when we get underway and they're still not here."

Miles frowned, "Does this never happen?"

"Not usually, no," Lang continued to stare at the deck.

"Nothing bad is going to happen to your sailors," Miles said, "They just got caught up in the politics of this place, that's all. They'll be back soon."

"I really hate Borginia," Lang muttered.

Miles managed to make it off ship later that morning, and stood on the pier to watch her get underway. It was quite the spectacle, seeing the gangplank drawn in and the open hatch of the hangar close. Small boats cleared the harbor and several tugs went alongside to pull her out. Seeing so massive a ship move so close to where he was standing was breathtaking. He was a little sad to see her go.

After another expensive cab ride to NSA, Miles was able to get a room at the crumbling Navy Gateway on the base and made his way to the NCIS field office.

He wore his NWUs as he hadn't been expecting the defense counsel so soon. But there he was, "Lieutenant Gavin, I presume?"

Lieutenant Junior Grade Kristoph Gavin was a slender man with blonde hair cropped short and wire-rimmed glasses that glinted in the light. He had a young genial face and a sensitive and inquisitive gaze that he leveled at Miles before offering a light smile and his hand to shake.

"Lieutenant Edgeworth, sir," he nodded, "a pleasure to meet you."

"Yes, you as well," Miles said, "although I didn't expect you to get here so fast."

"We've got sailors in trouble, Sir. I'm sure no one is going to be upset that I took no time in getting here."

"Not at all, Mister Gavin," Miles offered a tight lipped smile, well at least he was enthusiastic.

They sat together in a small cramped conference room to go over the case, and then Miles laid out plans for them to visit the embassy the next day to retrieve Mister DeLite and then try one last time to have the case dropped before moving forward with their own counsel.

Miles felt drained after that and was glad of an excuse to retire to his room. He busied himself there prepping his blues for tomorrow and dressing down for the evening. It was early, probably around fifteen hundred, but all Miles wanted to do was go to bed.

There was a knock on the door a few minutes later, and Miles hesitated before answering it. It was Gavin, wearing tidy slacks and a simple button down shirt, asking if he'd join him for dinner. Miles stared at him incongruously long. I really ought to, we’ll be working together after all.

"I'm sorry," Miles said, finally, "I'm sorry to admit it but I am tired this evening and I was going to read some and go to bed early."

Gavin's eyes widened at the revelation, but he was too polite to comment on it, "No need to apologize, Sir, I imagine it's not very comfortable living on a ship. I'll see you in the morning then."

"Yes," Miles said, "zero seven, we'll get breakfast before heading over, they don't Ike to do things very early here in Borginia. Have a pleasant evening Mister Gavin."

"Yes, sir," Gavin smiled, "You do the same."

Miles stood by the door for a few moments before turning the bolt and sliding the door chain into into the metal track. He walked the perimeter of the room slowly, stopping to stare out of the window at the crumbling and forsaken Navy Base.

That's my bottom line…

The sidewalks leading from the building were cracked and grass grew long and wild. He was starting to notice other windows in other buildings that had been shuttered or boarded over. A road blocked by the debris of its own destruction.

Miles I love you too! So I stayed, and I waited… But I had to do something with my life…

He turned and crawled into the small twin bed. It was lumpy and much abused—in what way he shuddered to think. Obviously the mattress was kept past its prime because there was not going to be a replacement. Nothing lasts forever.

If you can't love this about me then you don't really love me. It isn't right to ask me to drop everything for you…. It's not as if I took up some hobby, or picked up a bad habit… This was a commitment I made. Because you'd made your commitments a long time ago.

Miles hugged the pillow to his chest and buried his face in it. Listening to his last conversation with Phoenix Wright echo in his head, and he cried himself to sleep.

Notes:

Thanks for Reading! Wait… Did they… break up…. *sob* noooo….

So fun fact: I don't have a very detailed timeline for these stories, because I do them mostly for fun and partly to work on my writing…. I know where this one ends, and I know some of the major plot points along the way (port visit, karaoke, go-pills, Engarde, and so on…)

But I didn't know they would break up! Lol, I cried a little too… (I know I'm a silly person)