Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It took persistent begging, but his parents could find no more chores for Phoenix to do, no more distractions. He was free to go to Miles' house. In addition to his Christmas present, Phoenix's parents gave him a card, and a reusable shopping bag filled with things for Mr. Edgeworth. Phoenix peeked in as he walked, and saw that there was nothing too interesting, beyond their cooking. Tupperware containers were stacked atop each other, contents sloshing around with each of his waddling steps. The food was fresh, warmth came off it in waves, heating his mittened fingers.

He and Larry knew every step and bump in the sidewalk going in the direction of their friend's house. Larry couldn't come out today, so he was on his lonesome. When Phoenix arrived, he knocked on the front door energetically because finally, he was allowed to deliver his friend's present. His parents kept on saying he should wait "just a few more days." Phoenix had only recently mastered the days of the week, so it felt like forever to him. But now that time had come at last.

It took a while for someone to answer the door, which was always the case at the Edgeworth residence. Miles would not stop reading whatever book he found unless the doorbell was rung a minimum of three times. (He was at flute practice right now, but Phoenix's parents would only permit him to go over at this point.) Mr. Edgeworth was usually busy napping, or cooped up in his study doing work stuff.

"He must have been sleeping," Phoenix decided in a matter-of-fact tone when the door opened.

Whenever grownups woke from a nap they squinted, and looked generally displeased with the world. Mr. Edgeworth's hair wasn't slicked back, there was no gel in it. His bangs were scruffy and stuck up, they looked a lot like Miles'. His glasses weren't on, and no self-respecting Edgeworth would wear wrinkled clothes unless they'd just rolled off the couch to see who was at the door.

"Hey Mister Edgeworth!" Phoenix chirped.

Mr. Edgeworth mutely backed up, giving him entry.

"It's really cold out there today!"

Dark-circled eyes swept over the snowpants Phoenix wore, his dripping boots.

"I can tell."

Phoenix started to wrangle with his puffy winter coat, and the strings which kept his mittens tied safely together.

"Could you help me with my laces?" Phoenix asked. "I know how to tie them now, but not undo them."

With a sharp nod, he stooped over to pick apart the salty knots.

"Thank-you!"

He felt incredibly light without all his heavy clothes on. Phoenix was tempted to leap, to see if he could jump any higher now. But he kept his feet mostly grounded, and followed Mr. Edgeworth into the kitchen.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, pulling out a chair for Phoenix.

"I brought Christmas presents," he proudly announced. "My parents kept telling me it was too soon, but today, they finally let me."

"...too soon?"

"That's what they said."

By standing on his tiptoes, Phoenix just managed to get on the chair.

"Would you like a hot drink?"

"Yes please."

Mr. Edgeworth must have noticed how he shivered. It was cold as death, even in the house. Phoenix rubbed his arms a bit, trying to keep them warm. Why hadn't Mr. Edgeworth turned on the heat?

He filled the kettle for two, and switched it on. Then he went to the cupboards, pulling out cups and packets of tea, a small tin of hot chocolate. The fridge was mostly empty, except for the inch of milk he used up in their cups, and the sad end pieces of a bread loaf. There was also a red bell pepper, Miles' mortal arch nemesis, the bane of his school time snacks. They always traded when he got peppers with his lunch, but Phoenix suspected Mr. Edgeworth didn't know.

Adults were funny like that, never spotting the obvious before them. Maybe it was because they were so big. Being tall meant they knew when you were passing notes in class, or trying to sneak your new pet frog (Froggie IV) up to your bedroom, even when their backs were turned. Yet they never seemed to notice what children found important. It must have been a height thing.

"My parents made you some food," Phoenix explained, gesturing to the bag. "There's soup and noodles and fried dough cookies for dessert!"

Phoenix swung his socked feet and gripped the icy sides of the chair, imagining what it would be like if he was big enough for his feet to reach the linoleum floor.

"That was thoughtful of them," he murmured, taking out and inspecting the contents of each container. "Give them my thanks."

"Um, well, they sort of planned it after I told them you couldn't cook," the boy confessed. "Otherwise they would have gotten something cool for you I bet!"

He really had tried to protest. But his parents wouldn't hear any of it. At least his present for Miles was a lot better, and completely worth every bit of his saved allowances.

"No, no…" he airily dismissed. Mr. Edgeworth pulled out the first card, and slid a nail under the seal to open the envelope. "I appreciate it."

The card went with all the others on top of the microwave. It was a veritable forest of baby blue paper and white angels, with the fancy kind of handwriting Phoenix didn't know how to read yet. Bad enough that the words were often huge, adults had to go and invent another form of writing just to make things trickier.

Then there was quiet, except for the wind throwing itself against the windows, and the boiling of water. Phoenix didn't know why, but he was fraught with the desire to smother it in some way.

"I like these flowers," he declared, turning his attention to the bouquet on the table. It was a perfect centerpiece. Shiny, multi-layered petals curled together, making pretty coils of blossoms. 

"They're called chrysanthemums."

"That's a big word. Almost as big as the flowers."

He brought over two mugs. One had hot chocolate, the other had a tea bag floating in it.

"Here you are."

"Thanks!"

Having a drink made his wait much more tolerable. Even though it burned his tongue, he took a sip. Phoenix poked the sides of his fingers with the mug, but otherwise couldn't touch the surface, because it was so hot.

Mr. Edgeworth turned back to the counter, gathering himself a bowl and cutlery. The sink was full of unwashed dishes, while the cupboards where they had to be kept were empty. He found what he was looking for and rinsed them off quickly, pale hands not seeming to mind the steaming water.

"Do you want any?"

With a dishtowel, Mr. Edgeworth motioned to the food his parents sent along with him.

"No," Phoenix dutifully shook his head. "It's yours."

A plate and two cookies were set before the boy anyway.

"I apologize, but I don't have much to offer."

"'S'ok."

"What a strange thing to be sorry about," he thought as he nibbled a cookie. "It's probably just some silly adult problem."

The man picked at his food to begin with, pushing it around with his spoon and looking towards him. But after a few bites, he seemed to recall that he was hungry, and scarfed it down. The action was really un-Edgeworth, almost funny because of that. But not the sort of funny where he Larry, and Miles laughed as a result. It was an uncomfortable sensation which squirmed in his chest. It was getting too quiet again, Phoenix shifted restlessly in his seat.

"I wish I could've come at a better time," he began, speaking, just trying to fill the deathly silence. "But my parents wouldn't let me. I explained that Miles has flute practice right now so he wouldn't be here-"

"Pardon me?"

Phoenix realized he was probably talking too fast for Mr. Edgeworth to understand. His parents had been getting on his case about that lately.

"When does Miles get home from rehearsal?"

"...he's not coming back."

Mr. Edgeworth's voice was strangled, like every word fought a bloody fight to be pronounced. It made Phoenix's hairs stand on end, and his scalp prickle.

"I know that he's gone, everyone keeps telling me that whenever I asked to come over."

"Phoenix, my son is-"

He choked, not finishing the sentence. Maybe on his soup? Phoenix tried to pat his back, but he flinched away.

"I think you should leave now."

"But my present!"

"Go home, Phoenix."

Confused but obedient, Phoenix did as he was told. He got back into his heavy winter clothes and fumbled to remember how the bunny ears were supposed to work on his laces. Then he stepped out, the cold instantly stinging his face and making his eyes water. He looked over his shoulder at the freezing day, and then at Mr. Edgeworth. His expression was flat, and he'd never seen anyone's eyes look like that before. They were dark, practically alien. Suddenly the outdoors felt warm and inviting, more so than the gaze pinned on him.

"U-um, I don't know what I did," Phoenix said in a tiny voice, shrinking back from the man. "But I'm sorry."

None too gently, the door was closed. The lock clicked metallically and forebodingly. Then the sobbing began, and he heard things being thrown. A million glass shards spraying everywhere and a voice yelling, "It isn't fair!" over and over even when Phoenix tore himself away and started to run. Above the din, Phoenix knew he'd meant to say something else.

"I'm sorry too."

Chapter Text

There was an abandoned house on an old street, which all the children of his school avoided. The windows were knocked in, so they had been blocked up with molding boards of plywood. No one had bothered with the remaining shards of glass; they stuck out like jagged teeth in the frames. The lawn was unkempt and snarled. Cracks like spiderwebs carved their path along the driveway, and weeds pushed their way through. The big kids always said it was haunted, that ghosts and monsters lived inside. Only the bravest dared to enter and poke around the ruins, write their name on the walls, or take something with them. When walking by, the only way to keep yourself from being possessed by a demon was to hold your breath and cover your ears until you got past the mailbox.

Phoenix would sooner do none of this. He would rather knock on the door and ask the spirits to drag him to heck by the spikes of his hair- just like his babysitter had said would happen if he wasn’t careful. That might be better than finishing his current task. He was afraid of going back to Mr. Edgeworth’s house, of seeing the man, and the terrifying expression which he did not understand.

There were many things which Phoenix did not get nowadays, and no one was willing to explain to him. He was always “too young” or he would “find out soon enough.”

Cursive writing was a major one. (That was the name for the annoying squiggly stuff that adults liked to use in their notes.) They were going to be learning how to read and write it soon, which would be a relief. But until then, it was still one of the world’s greatest mysteries.

Also, he still didn't know the definition of big words, like magnanimous, homicide, and corpulent. His teacher had asked him what he was searching for in the dictionary, rather than going outside for recess with the other children. Phoenix explained that he wasn’t sure what the meaning of fatalbulletpenetratingtheheart meant. That was the thing which had killed his best friend, and he needed help finding the definition. Where did one see a fatalbulletpentratingtheheart? Was it a wild animal? A person? Why had it taken away Miles, what did he do wrong?

Even though that was the teacher’s job, she didn’t show him what the answer was. She hadn’t exactly helped him during the class trial either, so that shouldn’t have come as much of a surprise to Phoenix. Instead, he got a letter written in the impossible script of cursive, which he was to take home and have signed. He wasn’t in trouble, but both his parents had started crying, and they hugged him. That was worse than being punished, because adults weren’t supposed to cry.

But they had.

Mr. Edgeworth had.

This all brought Phoenix back to where he was, at the door of Mr. Edgeworth’s house. Phoenix couldn’t very well explain to his parents that he was scared of the man’s eyes. He had a chore to do, and there was no getting around it. Not after he accidentally let slip that Mr. Edgeworth had no food.

Phoenix’s fear of disobeying his parents outweighed it all. It was the single reason he could be standing on the stoop, trembling only partly from the cold.

Phoenix rang the doorbell and stood, tensed and ready for battle. When he heard the heavy, slow footsteps, he put down the food and ran as fast he could in his chubby snowpants. He hid behind a large tree. It was across the street and broad enough to conceal all of him. Involuntarily, Phoenix held his breath, listening to the door open, the rustling of plastic bags.

When Phoenix decided it was safe to look, he did. A different bag was in the new one’s place, and straight away he knew it had all the tupperware containers. Every fiber of his being screamed that it was a trap. So, Phoenix waited another eternity. His lungs burned, and his eyes started to water, from staring. Eventually, his instincts told him it was safe. Phoenix stole up the path, never taking his vision off the front door. Tentatively, he reached for the bag, just daring for something to happen. When nothing did, he took it, and fled.

"My parents must want to kill me.”

They had sent him on another trip to the house. Phoenix had eaten all of his vegetables, done his homework straight when he got back from school, and made his bed. Yet, they’d sent him on another journey. He behaved, so there was no reason to punish him. They must have been trying to get rid of him, it was the only conceivable explanation.

Phoenix had tried to get Larry to come along, so he would at least have some backup, but his friend refused.

“My mom already makes me give food,” Larry had said, thumbing his nose. “And she only makes me do that because you told your parents he stopped buying food, and then they told her as well.”

“But-” Phoenix stopped, not knowing how to explain it. The feeling of dread couldn’t be put to words. And Larry had never seen Mr. Edgeworth’s reaction, the look on his face. Phoenix didn’t understand it, he just didn’t get it. So, in his best fearless voice, he’d retorted, “I bet she’s trying to make him her boyfriend!”

Larry stopped kicking a snowbank, turning to him.  

“Wait, when did she break up with Clark?”

“Before Lucas but after Beatrice.”

Larry’s mom was always dating someone new whenever Phoenix went over, he thought that was cool. Larry got to have lots of different parents because of it, while he just had two of the same. Phoenix was Larry’s spare brain, helping him keep track of the many moms and dads which went into his life.

“But that was forever ago! I just started bringing food recently!”

The woman was also a good cook, and had a motorbike that they weren’t allowed to touch. But sometimes he and Larry would open the garage door and look at it, noses just barely past the threshold. She worked on it whenever Larry started to get on her nerves. Which, in Phoenix’s opinion, must have been pretty regularly. It explained the flawless paintjob, and shine from polish.

“I really hope it won’t happen,” Larry went on to say. “I really like Mister Edgeworth. It would suck if he vanished too.”

“I was just joking.”

“What? Not funny Nick!”

Larry bombarded him with snowballs in retaliation, and that put an end to the conversation. Phoenix had to deliver the food on his own.

The second drop was much like the first, with him running and then going behind the tree to avoid detection. The boy then snatched the containers. He ran off, heart beating in sync with his boots on the pavement.

By the third time, Phoenix had narrowed the process down to an art. Up the walkway, he checked for icy spots, so that he would not slip on his escape route. The tree was in its usual place, there to conceal him while he waited. That week, he’d been sent with curry, fish, and bread which was so new, the smell almost tempted him to break off a piece. But he didn’t, because it was not for him.

The boy went up, placed the food, pressed the doorbell. Then, something unexpected happened; the door opened. Well, it wasn’t unexpected, it had to happen at some point in the process Phoenix had established for himself. Just not right away. Mr. Edgeworth was there; gaunt, towering over him, the lenses of his glasses obscuring his eyes. Phoenix couldn’t tell if they were normal, or the sunken pits from before. Then, he angled his head, and they were just a normal pair of eyes. Phoenix was rooted to the spot, unable to look down.

“Please don’t run away this time.”

He couldn’t, not without his parents’ dishes. If he didn’t bring them back, then there would be trouble.

“Tell your parents thank-you, and that they don’t need to keep…” Mr. Edgeworth gestured to what he carried.

With that, Phoenix was able to find his voice.

“They’ll want proof that you’re eating regu- reg- three meals a day.”

Mr. Edgeworth didn’t say anything, but Phoenix figured out what he was thinking.

“I’m not.”

In the quiet, Phoenix discovered that his eyes, while dark-circled, appeared a lot like Miles’. They had the same shape, a bit of a squint. They were so much like Miles’ that his nose smarted, and Phoenix suddenly wanted to cry. Then Mr. Edgeworth glanced to the side, tightly grasping his arm.

“...Phoenix.”

“Yessir?”

“I apologize.”

Taken by surprise, Phoenix wasn’t sure what he was expected to say. He just gave the standard acceptance which had been taught to him.

“‘S’ok. But please don’t do it again.”

“...do you even know what I’m apologizing for?”

“Yeennnmmmeeer,” the boy hung his head, he really shouldn’t lie. “No.”

He laughed just a little bit at the answer, before growing serious again.

“I shouldn’t have gotten angry with you.”

“Oh. That’s ok.”

“I really don’t think that it was.”

He did do a lot of running away because of it.

“Weeeeell,” the boy started, thinking as he went. “You could make it up by remembering to eat again. I can tie a bow around your pinkie if that will help you remember. That’s what my parents always say they’ll do to me if I forget something important.”

“Ngh! I believe I can manage. Sans the bow.”

“Good,” he firmly nodded. “Good.”

Chapter Text

Mr. Edgeworth, as it turned out, was a very good listener. Originally, Phoenix had just stopped by to give whatever his parents had cooked. Phoenix usually remained on the stoop, responded politely to any questions asked of him, and then went out on his way. His parents said it was nice of him, because Mr. Edgeworth didn’t have any family left now, and it wasn’t healthy to be alone. Larry thought he was being weird, but Larry was Larry. They were friends, but he wasn’t bothered about Miles’ death for very long. Larry was used to the people he grew close to suddenly leaving, accepting that he would likely never see them again.

Phoenix, on the other hand, had questions. And no adult was willing to answer them. He was always “too young” or “wouldn’t understand.” So he tried to distract himself with other things: tobogganing, sleeping over with Larry, learning cursive writing, and even doing his chores. But nothing would stop him in the end. His mind inevitably went back to the things no one would explain to him. He wasn’t too dumb or too little, but adults always acted as if children couldn’t figure things out, that everything needed to be chopped into tiny, simplified bits of information. It was dismissive, it never got him anywhere.

But even if Mr. Edgeworth wasn’t telling him anything, that was fine. Phoenix didn’t ask because it would make him upset, and that was the last thing he wanted. At least the man seemed to understand his frustrations. His parents didn’t really, and neither had his teacher. One day Phoenix was dragged all the way to the headmistress’ office. She, his teacher, and his parents made him sit there to talk about it.

“Phoenix, why don’t you try making friends with the other children?” asked the headmistress. “You’d certainly feel better.”

The office smelled like ink and coffee. It was soothing, keeping Phoenix calm in the face of danger. He’d never been sent to the headmistress’ office before. Plus, having your parents come to school was supposed to happen when you’d done something like blow up the art room. When first called down, he thought he must have been framed for doing something really super bad.

“Larry’s my friend,” Phoenix stiffly said, words barely sincere.

There was a fish tank on top of the filing cabinet. It had a tiny koi with black and white scales swimming around. Its fins billowed in the water, not allowing it to hide behind the little castle, or the green plastic plants.

“You could make more though.”

“I don’t like anyone else.”

Both his parents looked at him funny. Phoenix could see their faces in the reflection of the tank.

“What about Brock? Didn’t you say you were in a group project a while back?”

“Brock is mean.”

“There was uh, Max? Didn’t you bring him home once?”

“Max said I was probably a bank robber in training.”

“Hm.”

The adults all exchanged glances.

“Why don’t you forget about Miles?” asked his teacher. “You have nothing to worry about, you should try to make some new friends.”

“I can’t forget because Miles saved me.”

The stares became concerned ones.

“What did he save you from exactly?”

Then they forced him to explain the entire class trial, how no one but Miles and Larry had done anything. He owed them both for what they had done, but now Miles was gone. How was he expected to forget something which was so important? As Phoenix told the story, less questions were asked, and the eyes of three people in the room sharpened. At first the boy thought they were angry with him. But when he finished, they all were facing towards his teacher.

“Phoenix, could you please go wait in the main office?”

He nodded, slipping out of the chair, and closing the door behind him. The secretary was watering a plant, and she let him take a sugar-free candy from the bowl on her desk. Phoenix concentrated on the flavour of butterscotch, swinging his feet, and imagining he could not hear the yelling coming from the headmistress’ room.

The next day, he was put in a new class. Phoenix didn’t understand what that accomplished. It seemed a bit backwards to him. If they wanted him to have friends, then why would they move him out of the class that Larry was in? Now he only saw Larry at recess and lunch, while the other kids had already established all of their friendships. Group projects became a nightmare. Everyone already had a partner, so he was the odd duck out.

Mr. Edgeworth agreed that it was a definite “fallacy in logic.”

Seeing Larry at certain parts of the day wasn’t enough to make up for it. Lunch was really busy. All he could concentrate on was eating, and bargaining on what he would trade with Larry. Somewhat inevitably, his good snacks were always given to his friend, while he got something healthy or boring in return. Recess grew tiring as well, he didn’t like playing with the others. Sometimes Larry went off with them. Phoenix sat with his back against the wall and stared at his legs, just like Miles would have done with his book.

Phoenix began to stay longer at Mr. Edgeworth’s house. He was talkative enough for the both of them. Miles’ house… old house… The house was directly on his walk home from school, Phoenix didn’t need to go out of the way to say hello to the man.

With one visit, Phoenix was presented a grocery receipt. The man had evidence to show that he was getting a part of his life back together. His parents were happy when they saw that. Another time, the scariest person Phoenix had ever met was visiting Mr. Edgeworth. He was introduced as a detective, and went through his trenchcoat, finding a lollipop. It was tossed to him on the way out. The detective was terrifying, but had very good taste in sweets.

One day, Mr. Edgeworth didn’t answer the door. Instead, there was a teenager with cloudy brown hair tucked under a hat.

“Why do you keep coming here?” he demanded.

“U-um,” Phoenix stuttered, surprised by the hostile question. “Because my parents tell me to bring-”

“You haven’t brought my mentor anything for a week now.”

“Oh.”

How long was a week again? Phoenix mentally recited the days of the week song, wanting to know if that was a long time or not. Seven days did seem like it was a lot.

“Don’t you think he has enough on his plate without your constant reminder that his son is dead?”

“U-uh-”

“He doesn’t need you annoying him, so why do you keep coming back here?”

“I don’t know,” Phoenix shrugged in helplessness. A lump formed in his throat, and he began to feel very small.

“How could you possibly not know?” he asked, making quotations with his fingers as he said this.

“I’m never told anything, nobody ever wants to say what’s going on! I don’t know why things are happening, or why Miles is dead. I-I-” the boy sniffled, beginning to hyperventilate. “I don’t know anything!”

“Yikes,” he said in a much more subdued voice.

The teenager realized his mistake, but it was already too late. Phoenix was sobbing at the top of his lungs for all of the street to hear.

He was left in the dark about everything . He wanted his best friend to come back. He was tired of being dismissed, and how no one was listening to him except for Mr. Edgeworth. Phoenix couldn’t pretend that things were fine, he couldn’t make believe that he wasn’t lonely as he felt. And now that teenager had called him an annoyance. He didn't have anybody. He felt so alone.

“There, there,” he attempted to soothe. “You don’t need to cry. How about a hug?”

“Y-you’re a meanie!” Phoenix yelled, slapping away his hand. “I don’t like you!”

“Ouch,” he mumbled, rubbing his arms. “That stings.”

“Raymond, what have you done?”

A blurry figure Phoenix recognized as Mr. Edgeworth was striding up to them. But Phoenix continued to cry, he just couldn't stop.

“H-he’s been busy being a meanie!” Phoenix answered for them both.

Mr. Edgeworth sighed and bent over. He was carrying many boxes before, but put them down. Phoenix was given a tissue to mop up the tear stains on his face.

“A-am I an a-annoyance?” Phoenix wailed.

“No,” he passed the boy another tissue, and comfortingly squeezed his shoulder. “Of course not. Who said that?”

Raymond then looked like he’d swallowed a bee.

“I would appreciate it if you don’t push an eight-year old to tears the next time you meet,” he sighed.

“Y-yessir.”

Mr. Edgeworth then cleared his throat, indicating that he expected something. Awkwardly, Raymond offered Phoenix a hand.

“Uh, sorry kid,” he hung his head a bit and lowered his voice. “I was just being protective of my boss…”

“And you’ve done such a wonderful job,” the man sarcastically added.

Phoenix knew it was not nice of him, but he felt good that Raymond had gotten in trouble. It proved that he was wrong, that Mr. Edgeworth didn't think he was a bother.

“M-Mister Edgeworth,” Raymond squeaked. “You really have a way of cutting up a guy until feels two inches tall.”

“Well I was aiming for less than one.”

Since Mr. Edgeworth couldn't see what he was about to do, Phoenix stuck his tongue out at Raymond.

“Why you-!”

“WAAAH!”

His unexpected cry made Mr. Edgeworth jump. Alarmed, he held a hand to his chest, and glared at them.

“Upon second thought, you’re both trouble.”

Chapter Text

Phoenix came to the conclusion that Ray (as he insisted on being called) was not that terrible. He was less frightening than some of the other teenagers Phoenix knew. He was a bit clumsy, and always making silly expressions. The ice cream helped sway his opinion too. Ray said that he liked having cold food in the winter and hot chocolate in the summer. Either way, Phoenix won, because he got to have more sweets than he was normally allowed to eat in one day. Together, they were sitting at a table in the ice cream place. Ray had to give him a boost, so he could sit on the tall stool.

“Come to think of it,” Ray began, tapping his fingers on the smudged tabletop. “Do your parents know where you are?”

“I guess not,” Phoenix shrugged, licking his spoon. He chose cookie-dough ice cream, and even got to have sprinkles on top. It was made extra special by the fact that he got a glass bowl instead of a paper one. It proved he was old enough to be trusted with something that was so breakable.

“Do they always just let you wander around on your own Nick?”

Since Phoenix now called him Ray, the boy said that he could be referred to as Nick in return. Larry was the single one who actually used it, but Ray had almost started calling him Nix, and that was even worse. His parents used Nix and Dragon (which came from the meaning of his real name) when they were being embarrassing.

“Yeah.”

Ray didn’t talk back, instead taking a bite of his ice cream. There was a pause of quiet, except for the clinking of their spoons, and the ever-present traffic just outside the large window.

“You should be very cautious,” commented the owner of the store as he walked by. “It’s 2002, and you can never truly tell what the intentions of someone are. People are not always who they appear to be.”

“I know all about stranger danger,” Phoenix reassured.

“Strangers aren’t the only thing you should be wary of,” was the melodious reply.

“I’ll be safe.”

The owner nodded, monocle and stitches flashing oddly in the flourescent lights of the store.

“How’s your ice cream?” Ray asked, sighing a bit.

“Good,” Phoenix perked up, glad that he was no longer being lectured about safety. “Cookie dough is basically like having two desserts at once!”

“Lemme’ guess, dessert is your favourite meal?”

“And my favourite food group,” he grinned. “Also my favourite show.”

“Show?”

“Piece of Cake!” Phoenix explained, waving about a paper napkin. It was white, and had a pink conch shell design in the middle. “I can’t wait for the next episode to come out! There haven’t been any for a while.”

For the most part, Ray looked very young. He didn’t have a beard, but there were patchy spots on his face where he had forgotten to shave. He dressed like a teenager in spite of his formal job, and had blackheads peppered across the bridge of his nose. But when Phoenix asked the question, his sloppy grin became a little more haggard. Ray’s face was less like his, and more like Mr. Edgeworth’s.

“Heh, yeah. That’s to be expected.”

Ray had laughed a little, but it didn’t sound right to the boy. It was a humourless noise, like phlegm was caught in his throat.

“Why’s that to be expected?”

“What other shows do you like watching Nick?”

There were so many different things, animated and live that he liked on TV. Phoenix was about to launch into great detail about a really cool show that he, Larry, and Miles had been watching together. It was samurai and traffic-themed, with the three principal characters making up the Signal Samurais. They fought against those who sought to destroy justice and liberty, both with swords, and sword-like words. Their teamwork was unparalleled, even if they did not always get along with each other. Phoenix could have launched into great detail about the latest episode, how the new villain was too strong for even the strongest of combo moves to take down. He was tempted to describe how the villain matched all the samurai blow-by-blow. But he recognized that there was something wrong with what Ray had just asked him.

His voice was just a little too upbeat, a pitch that older people only used when they wanted you to do something. With his old teacher, she had demanded that he confess to stealing the money. She remained sweeter than his ice cream and and just as cold. She did not care that he was in tears, that he could barely breathe from crying. More recently, Phoenix had gotten used to people using that voice when they were trying to change the subject, and not answer his questions. Ray was different, so Phoenix put on his best pout and crossed his arms.  

“A-alright, geeze, quit it with the puppy eyes kid,” Ray broke eye contact, folding his arms as well. “If you really have to’ know, Jeff Masters is in jail now.”

It would be hard to film new episodes from prison. Phoenix could see why that might be a problem for the show. It sucked that it had to be stopped as a result. But he didn’t see why Ray would want to keep something like that quiet. It just proved that adults were hiding things from him for no real reason. They were the ones being silly, not him, for demanding answers.

“We can break him out together,” Phoenix answered.

“Your parents may let you roam free, but I don’t think they’ll want you visiting prison.”

“What if we baked him a cake to hide in, and then we moved it out? I wouldn’t need to get near.”

“I don’t know about you, but the one thing I can make without burning is instant ramen.”

“Then file an apple! There’s no cooking involved!”

“You mean an appeal?”

Phoenix nodded.

“Mister Edgeworth hasn’t really been-” Ray cringed. He tried to mince his words, but there weren’t too many euphemisms for him to choose from. “Working lately. And I’m not a defence attorney yet.”

“But you will be one day.”

If Ray was a true adult, he never would have told him about Jeff Masters being in jail, and Mr. Edgeworth being too sad to go back to work. Phoenix had already gotten a few answers out of Ray before this. So, Phoenix decided to let the subject drop this time around. Ray needed a break, and he was the one buying the ice cream.

They left some coins on the table for the friendly ice cream salesman. Ray picked Phoenix up so he wouldn’t have to jump down from the stool and maybe break his legs in the process.

“Do you think we should’ve gotten something for Mister Edgeworth?” Phoenix asked as they left.

“Do you?” he retorted somewhat nervously, glancing back.

Mr. Edgeworth had sent them both away because he “wasn’t mentally prepared to handle twice the usual amount of trouble.” At least not until he got the chance to have a coffee.

“You’re the adult.”

“I’m only nineteen.”

“You still know more than me.”

“I’m barely an adult,” he insisted, biting the corner of his spiral notebook. “I don’t know how to pay taxes, or file for bankruptcy, or- what flavour do you think he’ll want?”

“Rainbow,” Phoenix gravely told him. “Definitely rainbow.”

“Right, we’ll just- wait, why am I trusting a kid? Rainbow sounds like a sugary disaster.”

“The label says it's a colourful cat-apostrophe.”

“I’ll bet it does.”

Ray struggled a bit more, not sure whether he wanted to walk, or return to the store. Phoenix kept going, stretching up to reach the button for the crosswalk.

“Are we supposed to hold hands as you cross the street?” Ray asked, eyes swinging from him to the lights.

“I’m old enough to go on my own.”

“You’re eight,” he winced a bit as a car sped around the curb. Ray tugged him back a few steps. “And it’s super busy around here.”

“That’s almost double digits.”

“That’s still pretty young you know.”

“I’m not too young!” Phoenix hotly said. He was sick of older people pointing out his age, using it as justification for not letting him do something. It was so annoying!

“I never said you were,” he sighed, cutting off an argument before one could begin.

A city bus cut it close to the gutters, its tires turning up freezing slush and chunks of salt. Ray’s legs shielded him from most of it, but not from the arctic tailwind after that. More traffic followed, ignoring the pedestrians on the corner. Phoenix decided that maybe eight wasn’t too old to be holding someone’s hand when crossing the street. Not that he would say so to Ray.

“Our combined ages make us an adult,” Phoenix stated. “So if you gave me a piggyback, that would pretty much make us a grown up.”

“Well I definitely can’t argue with that flawless logic.”

Ray wasn’t very strong though, and could only carry him until they were a block away from the house. He wobbled at first, shaking a little bit. Then they crash-landed in a snowbank, as he just couldn’t do it any longer. Ray was a tall person, and thus it was his sworn duty to be capable of holding people smaller than him. But Phoenix didn’t mind this failing too much. Despite everything, Phoenix found that he was beginning to like Ray.  

However, Mr. Edgeworth did mind. He wasn’t too pleased about the dripping snow that swept in with them.  

Chapter Text

“I have a secret.”

Larry’s whispering voice was by to the ear he didn’t have pressed against a pillow. Phoenix kept his eyes closed, wishing that Larry would assume he was asleep. It had been a long day, and Phoenix felt tired. Larry wanted to stay up and do stuff whenever they had a sleepover, meaning they would be extra sleepy in the morning. Phoenix couldn’t let that happen now, because he was going to help Mr. Edgeworth and Ray pack up in the afternoon.

“I know you’re awake Nick.”

Maybe if he didn’t say anything in reply, that would be more convincing. Phoenix didn’t really know why he bothered going over to Larry’s house. There was some sort of obligation that he felt, even though they weren’t really seeing each other in school. Their parents were all friends, which was why they inevitably became playmates. If he moped around the house for too long, his parents would send him to Larry’s house. If Larry’s mom grew tired of dealing with him, Larry came over to his house. And when none of the adults wanted them around (which was often) they went out adventuring together.

“Nick,” he repeated, a little more loudly this time.

Larry gave his shoulders a jerk. Then his neck was tickled. Out of reflex, Phoenix bit his hand.

“AH! Ah-” Larry alternated between pain and triumph, looking at the marks on his hand. “I knew you were awake!”

“Just lemme’ sleep Larry,” Phoenix grumbled, turning on his side.

“I wanna’ talk.”

It was dark, except for the red numbers of a digital alarm clock, and the light coming from the streetlamps outside. The old couch they were sleeping on was like an island in the blackness of the room. Phoenix’s eyes adjusted, but he couldn’t see any further. Just the faint silhouette of spikes, which marked Larry’s hair.

“I don’t have any secrets to share,” he answered.

In return for telling a secret, Larry always expected to hear one of his. But they understood each other through and through. Larry knew exactly where he stashed all of his birthday and gift money. Phoenix knew that Larry had cried when his mom broke up with Tod, and only him. There was very little that he could say, nothing he wanted to share at eleven o’clock in a freezing basement.

“It’s not a trade.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Please.”

With a sigh, he flipped onto his back. Larry was leaning against his end of the couch, and Phoenix mimicked him. There was one blanket between the both of them, and he was now aware of the very icy toes which were poking his leg. Phoenix yawned, waiting for him to talk about whatever it was.

“You can’t tell anyone else.”

“I wouldn’t.”

“Put out your hands Nick.”

Phoenix did as he was told, and leaned forwards. He kept his palms cupped. There was a slight clink of change, the metal was so cold it almost burned. There was also the rustling of paper, a few bills. The metallic strips glittered faintly, he could see the numbers. Without doing the math, he knew exactly what it added up to.

“Larry,” he growled.

“I never s-stole it,” he said, voice hitching. “I found it on the ground. And I was gonna’ give it back Nick. I-I was gonna’-”

With his face illuminated in the orangish light from outdoors, Phoenix could tell that he had been crying.

“What am I supposed to do with it?”

“Mom always says that I should never get attached, but I can’t help it. I-I just want Edgey to come back. I never got to say bye. A-and I never got to return his money-”

“We’ll figure something out Larry.”

“Ok,” he nodded, taking gulping breaths of air. “Ok. I believe you Nick.”

“Go to sleep Larry. It’ll be ok.”

They both knew that it wouldn’t.

After enough visits Phoenix simply got accustomed to inviting himself in. He began using the hidden spare key if it was necessary. But usually, the door was unlocked around the same time, because Phoenix came by on a routine schedule. He was predictable, and Mr. Edgeworth would expect him. But today, he was a few hours early, so he had to dig out the key from the ice which formed over it.

The house was very quiet when he entered that day. In the growing emptiness, Phoenix’s footsteps seemed especially loud. The place was mostly packed up, except for a pair of shoes. Mr. Edgeworth was getting rid of most his things, and moving into his office. It had a kitchenette, and an extra room where he could put a bed, but that meant most of the furniture had to go. Mr. Edgeworth claimed that was all he really needed, there was little point in the unnecessary space.

The detective (his name was Badd with two Ds) had helped him carry most of the heavy stuff. Phoenix had perched out of the way on the stairs, and watched the moving. Badd was incredibly strong, his muscles were like the ones superheros had on TV. Phoenix bet that he could carry the entire couch without Ray and Mr. Edgeworth helping.

Phoenix ghosted around the first floor, peeking into each room to see if he was there. He had to be somewhere in the house because of the shoes, and the long trenchcoat which was draped on the railing. But no one said anything when he called out greetings. Phoenix dared to climb upstairs, gripping the banister with all his strength.

It was very cold on the landing. Chill seemed to radiate from the hardwood floor and attack his socked feet. It was electrifying, forcing all his hair to bristle and stand on end. Out of sudden instinct, he walked carefully, not making too much noise. Phoenix checked each barren room, but was already aware the last held what he was in search of.

In his hands was a scrap of fabric. He twined it between his fingers and twisted up knots without looking at the material. They weren’t just aimless knots, but bows. One of Miles’ old bow ties. On his face was nothing. He looked straight ahead at something in the closet that Phoenix couldn’t see. Very cautiously, he clambered onto the bed as well, trying not to disturb the dust on the covers. It was a futile effort, and he wound up sneezing.

“Last room,” the boy commented.

Mr. Edgeworth didn't appear shocked or annoyed. It wasn’t scary, like the time from before, or even very sad. He was just there. Behind his glasses, there seemed a sort of idle curiosity, but it didn’t really belong to him. Something was merely observing the situation, waiting to see what would become of them both.

“Why aren’t you in school?”

There were so many trophies and medals. Miles had always been really busy with extracurricular, and he excelled at it all. He’d shown Phoenix how they were ordered by category, and the amount of prestige that came with them.

“There’s a snowstorm coming, so they called our parents to pick us up early.”

Phoenix left out that his were too busy for that, so he had to walk. But quietly, he was hoping that Mr. Edgeworth could give him a ride. The weather was truly awful, and his cheeks had begun to feel numb.

“Then you should go home.”

On the floor, plastic storage bins were stacked. Phoenix could see that they were all empty. Nothing in the room was disturbed. If not for the silvery film of dust, it seemed like Miles could walk in at any second and demand to know who had rearranged his books. Then he would lecture them both about alphabetical order, and how the covers were secondarily coordinated by height.

“Snow or no snow, I won’t get lost like they say.”

There seemed to be no end to winter. It snowed constantly. The temperatures dropped to a point where his parents wouldn’t shoo him outside if they wanted him gone.

“Your family will worry.”

He made the bow tight, until threads started to crackle under the strain. Then he began to pick it all apart, until it was a crumpled lump in his hands. It was miserable and wrinkled, but he just started the process all over again.

“Maybe a bit, but then something more important will happen, and then they’ll forget.”

“What is more important than the safety of their only child?”

Phoenix looked where he was staring, at the closet. He was bothered, but didn’t understand why he was feeling that way. Instead, the boy gave a little shrug.

“I dunno’, work and stuff.”

He snorted at the answer. Phoenix shied away, because he really didn’t seem like Mr. Edgeworth. Someone else had taken up residence in his mind, and was doing the talking for him now.

“And stuff,” he echoed.

Phoenix wanted to ask about what would happen to all of Miles’ things. There was so much of it that the idea of keeping track made his head spin. He didn't want to see it thrown out, but there was nowhere to hold all of it either. Books and clothes and trophies and everything which had been important to Miles was here. If those things were tossed, it would be like he didn’t exist anymore. But as much as he wanted to ask that, something was more pressing.

“Mister Edgeworth?”

“Phoenix.”

“What’s that rope hanging in the closet for?”

“Nevermind it,” he dismissed. The man rose, stirring up more of the dust and making the springs of the bed creak. “Come, I’ll drive you home before the weather worsens.”

Chapter Text

The ground was squishy. Each step seemed to sink a little further in the grass. Phoenix thought that he might fall into the center of the earth and come out on the other side. Water pooled around his rainboots. It was a slushy, greying mixture, made of grit and chips of ice. Beneath it was the still dead grass, the mud which the thaw was bringing on. If they had been somewhere else, he and Larry might have splashed around with their matching boots and rain slickers. (Their parents had gone shopping together, bought them on sale, together…) But today, they were huddled under a shared umbrella, using their limited reading skills to navigate a cemetery.

They both knew how to spell M-I-L-E-S. They had labeled enough drawings in school with the name of their friend. But was Larry’s duty to remember the E-D-G-E part, while Phoenix kept track of the W-O-R-T-H. Phoenix got the longer half, because apparently he was the smart friend now. But with their combined knowledge, they would be able to know what they were looking for.

It was raining these days. It wasn’t cold enough for snow to happen, so the sky pelted frozen water instead. It was a step above ice, rivers of it fell and splattered against his numbing cheeks. Breath hung about them like a permanent fog, clouding and smothering their drawn faces. They stuck together to prevent themselves from getting an eye poked out by the sharp ends of the umbrella, but also to keep warm.

It had been Phoenix’s idea to come out, not Larry’s. Phoenix had no one to blame but himself for how miserable he felt.  

“You’re the smart friend now.”

Well he didn’t feel it, wandering through aisles of polished rectangles and angels. Markers rose up like the walls of a stone maze, all while the ground squashed and made sickened noises with the rise and fall of his feet. He didn’t really know where they were going. Graves weren’t ordered alphabetically, or based upon when a person died. There was no sense behind where someone was placed.

Miles would have hated the disorganization, the absence of logic.  

The puddles seemed to grow deeper. Until the hem of his pants were wet, until the nipping crept up to his knees. Larry was similarly disheveled. He didn’t bother fighting Phoenix for the privilege of holding the umbrella. Larry kept his fingers jammed in his yellow coat pockets, where Phoenix knew the lunch money was.

When they found him, Phoenix didn’t really know what they were expected to do. He did this for Larry, to prove that things were going to be fine, and there was still a chance to give back the money. They both crouched, not caring about the water which was seeping into their bones. They propped up the umbrella, so their backs were at least a smidgen covered. Droplets spattered against his face and trickled down from his cheeks. The only warm thing in that moment were the twin rivers, sliding down his face. He didn’t care if the money was actually stolen or if Larry’s bizarre story about finding it was true. He just wanted Miles back.

“Should we say something?”

“You should apologize.”

“I did Nick.”

Maybe that was a lie, or maybe he just wasn’t paying attention. But Larry’s once obnoxious voice was thinner than the crumpled papers nestled against the stone. The W-O-R-T-H was written on it in blocky font. So were the dates, and a far-away part of Phoenix realized Miles’ birthday had passed. That had been forever ago, the same day when class ended early, because of the threatening snow storm.

Everything else was written in cursive. They were learning it in school. Phoenix practiced until his hand was smudged poisonous blue with ink, and his fingers started to cramp. He knew the individual letters, but when the joined up, it was harder. It didn’t help that he got scolded for tilting his head when trying to read it. Phoenix explained that the letters were starting to fall over, so he needed to look in the same direction. But it just wasn’t accepted as an answer. Larry had it worse than him, he had said as much.

“You’re the smart friend now.”

Phoenix couldn’t derive any meaning from the words, despite the eternity it felt they kneeled there. And even if he could sound out the squiggling mass of lines, the words would be too large for him. It would all be things he didn’t know the definition of. He didn’t know anything. He didn’t understand anything, and no one was willing to explain to him-

“You ready to leave?”

“No.”

“Y-yeah.”

Larry sighed a bit, white dancing around his nostrils. Phoenix didn’t meet his friend’s eyes, and cradled his arm, unconsciously mirroring what someone else would have done.

“You’ve always been a crybaby.”

“H-have not!”

But more tears were flowing down his face, Larry would never mistake it for water.

“Nick.”

“I-it’s just the raindrops!”

Wrapped around his fist was the edge of the sweater Larry wore underneath. He used it to dry Phoenix’s face, best as he could.

“C’mon Nick,” he wearily announced, taking the umbrella. “Let’s go.”

Phoenix came to the understanding that he really wasn’t good about being the smart friend.

When they got back home, he should have realized they would be in trouble. They were filthy, muddy, and would have probably spread it everywhere if his parents had not stopped him. At least that was what they said to him. Larry was sent home in the rain, without even getting to use the umbrella. Phoenix wasn’t allowed to give it, not even to borrow. Then he was dragged up to the bathtub and made to sit in the blistering, soapy water until he’d scrubbed away all the dirt.

Steam curled around him, and his hands had gone angry red with the temperature his parents had set. It hurt when he was unceremoniously dropped in, passing over in scalding waves. The tracks on his face- which rain could never disguise- burned more. Larry had brushed them away, with a softness that wasn’t like him. But Larry bit and clawed. Phoenix dished it right back. They grew up roughhousing together, fighting when one of them got too annoying for the other to stand. Larry had probably just been trying to get a laugh out of him when he did that, or any sort of reaction.

Now he just felt weird.

It only happened once, but Phoenix doubted he would ever forget it. Ray had clasped hands over his eyes, not letting him see what he’d already caught a glimpse of. Whenever people tried to conceal things from him, he remembered. It burned into his memory because someone wanted to hide the truth from him. Fine details were etched into his mind, aspects he would be able to recount even as the rest of his youth blurred.

They were staring at each other with frightening intensity, in the middle of the office. They consisted of Mr. Edgeworth and Detective Badd. A manilla folder was in Mr. Edgeworth’s slackening grip. It would have fallen if not for Ray’s high-pitched shriek, and Phoenix’s naively curious, “What’s going on?”

When Ray let go of him, the detective had dropped the fingers curled under Mr. Edgeworth’s chin. There was an audible crunch as he bit the lollipop. Badd grumbled something near-incoherent between shards of candy.

“There was… dust... in his eyes…”

“Dust, in the workplace?” Ray asked, sounding unimpressed. He made little air-quotes with his fingers as he spoke. “Mr. Edgeworth, don’t you think there are better times to be worrying about… dust?”

The only dust Phoenix saw was the dusting of blush on his cheeks. Mr. Edgeworth turned from them, busying himself with putting away the file instead of answering. Not seeing any of the so-called dust that the adults were talking about, Phoenix protested, “But I dusted the shelves last week!”

“It was…” Badd unwrapped a new lollipop for himself, and gave one to Phoenix. He’d been doing it since Phoenix was eight. Now, that he was officially in the teenage years as a thirteen year-old, Phoenix still accepted the candy. It was customary. “Probably from outside.”

“Oh,” Phoenix turned to Ray. “Is that why you covered my eyes?”

“Yeah,” Ray nodded, relieved that Phoenix understood. “It can be really painful if you get dust in your eyes.”

Raindrops on his face.

Dust in his eyes.

They were thin excuses to hide feelings.

Phoenix found, as he grew older, that he hated lies. Nothing would infuriate him more than people who did not want to cooperate. They kept their cards close to their chest for a pointless advantage. It was greedy, and everyone else around them lost due to their own selfishness. When he knew someone was lying for self-centered reasons, he began to see red.

He wasn’t stupid!

No matter how old he grew, the phrase always sounded like that of a petulant child’s.

Lies hurt in the end. They amplified the pain, because someone had gone through the extra effort to make things worse, just for you. It was like adding a large, coiling bow, on a present already wrapped.

He knew that the truth was similarly sharp, and could be wielded in a manner which cut just as deep.

But not like this.

Phoenix wrapped arms around his abdomen, as if it could stave off the metallic, dribbling feeling in the back of his throat.

Raindrops on his face, dust in his eyes, both of them weren’t real.

"Feenie... What a joke you are.”

But the poison in his stomach was.

Chapter Text

His parents had always been the hands-off type, at least whenever Phoenix needed them. They were happy to have someone they could baby and scold. But, only when they felt like it. He was more of a seasonal decoration, a Christmas ornament. When the time was right, they wanted everything to do with him.

As a nine year-old, he didn’t have the vocabulary to explain these feelings. Phoenix just knew that he wanted to sneak past the den, so he could avoid whoever his parents were entertaining. Instead, he was seen. (And of course he was seen, for he could not sneak past an open threshold with his loud rainboots.) Larry’s mom was there, so normally it wouldn’t have mattered. But today, she had her newest boyfriend in tow. Phoenix hadn’t met the man, but knew that Larry cared enough to not like him.

“Dragon is that you? Come here and say hello.”

Left with little choice, Phoenix went into the den. He pulled himself up onto the couch, right between his parents. Even though it was just Larry’s mom and boyfriend, his parents were dressed formally, in suits and jewelry. All the adults were.

A weighty hand fluffed his hair, and Phoenix fought the desire to duck away. He hated it when his spikes got messed up. It was bad enough that people already made fun of them when they were neat! An arm lingered around his shoulders, keeping him from escaping. The parent who wasn’t pinning him in place gave a showy kiss on the forehead. The boyfriend rolled his eyes a bit, though Phoenix believed he was the only one to catch it. The glare of his biking goggles concealed it some, but Phoenix had the advantage since he was shorter.

“Hello,” Phoenix greeted, putting on his best manners. “It’s good to meet you. I’m Phoenix.”

“Charmed,” he answered with disinterest, taking a long drag of his cigarette. “Blaise Debeste.”

“How are you Ms. Butz?”

The perfume and cologne of the adults mingled with the smoke. Phoenix thought about all the warnings they got in school, how cigarettes were bad and would make one’s insides turn charred black. Phoenix wanted to gag at the blend of smells, but knew it would only get him in trouble.

“It’s Debeste-Butz now,” she corrected.

Didn’t that mean she was married? That hadn’t happened for at least two years now, according to the mental track record he kept. Phoenix tilted his head a bit, but tried to conceal his puzzled frown.

“Larry didn’t tell me that,” Phoenix replied. Even though nails dug into his arm, he was unable to keep the confusion out of his voice.

“Ah, it was a bit of a shotgun thing,” the woman answered, wriggling her fingers to make the diamond sparkle. “Just today, in fact. Your parents came along, but we’re going to surprise Larry when he gets home from school. He’ll have a new father and a new baby.”

“Surprise” was the word she used, but it didn’t sound like a fun thing. Especially not for Larry, who was probably locked out of his house right now. They were both home from school, and if Larry’s mom was here, that meant there was no one to let him in. He needed to get out of here, to find Larry either before or after the adults left. Phoenix tried to think up a good way to leave, that wouldn’t get him in trouble later.

“Baby?”

Larry’s mom rubbed her stomach, wedding band glittering with each pat.  

“In January.”

That month seemed an eternity away, but Phoenix knew that it wouldn’t be for Larry. Discomforted by the subject, he wasn’t sure what to comment. He just wanted to leave, he wanted to make sure that his friend would be alright.

“Exciting, isn’t it?”

The boy was shaken a bit, in a way which supposedly looked playful, but he knew the underlying message.

“Don’t gape Nix, be more conversational.”

Again, the wedding band seemed to sparkle. The woman must have noticed how it drew his eye, because she went on to ask, “What do you think of it?”

“It’s very nice,” he lied. “I need to go do my homework now.”

“Ah, ah,” the subtle pressure on his shoulders kept Phoenix from standing. “There’s no need to be hasty with your answers.”

Why couldn’t they just let him leave? He didn’t want to be here. He needed to go see Larry, and now they were trying to keep him prisoner. The boy had experienced enough, and thus wriggled away from their grasp.

“The diamond’s not as big as the one Imran got you.”

Three-quarters of the room gave scandalized gasps. But the man- Larry’s step-dad- threw his head back and crackled.

“Hah! Kids have the most amusing honesty!”

The moment his parents heard that, they were no longer angry. Phoenix wasn’t sure why, and didn’t want to think about their social climbing.

Amidst the distraction, he fled.

One morning in June, Larry wasn’t at school. This became two, three, and eventually spanned a week.

There was no winter holiday to explain his disappearance. His parents didn’t stop him from going to Larry’s house, so Phoenix knew the same thing couldn’t be happening. He told himself this, squashed the dreaded idea in his mind.

But Larry didn’t answer the door.

His step-dad’s goggles held the light and hid his sunken eyes, just like Mr. Edgeworth’s glasses.

“Is Larry home?”

A bundle was cradled in his arms, Larry’s half-brother. What tufts of hair he had were soft brown, the same colour as Larry’s.

“Oh, your parents didn’t tell you?” the man said, tugging his beard. “He’s living with his father now. He’ll be back at school soon enough though.”

“But Larry hates his dad!”

His dad was terrible at remembering. He rarely bought groceries, and when he did, he forgot the main items on his list. He never got Larry to school before the second bell. Larry said that if he didn’t live with his dad every other weekend, the man would forget he had a son.

“It’s just too hard, y’see?” Mr. Debeste elaborated, choking back a sob. “Having the reminder of my poor wife’s disappearance around is too much right now.”

“I’ll bet he hates you more.”

Mr. Debeste wailed again, and his face was swimming with tears. Phoenix didn’t know why, but he felt disgusted. He backed away from the door, eyes trained on the man.

“By disappearance do you mean dead?”

The crying abruptly stopped.

“What makes you say that?” Mr. Debeste coyly asked, feeling for his lighter.

“It’s a nice way of saying dead,” Phoenix bluntly told him. “Just like passed on, and not coming back. They all mean the same thing, but grown-ups lie about it.”

He was ten years old now, his birthday had passed. So he knew these things, knew from experience what the lies were going to be.

“Hrm,” Mr. Debeste mumbled, placing a cigarette between his lips.

“And if she had actually run away, she would have taken Larry with her.”

The man flicked his thumb, switching on the lighter. A pale flame danced at the end, brushing close to his nail. He lit his cigarette while holding the baby.

“The second-hand smoke is going to be bad for him.”

“You’re a bright kid, real clever, y’know?”

From the tone of his sooty voice, it was anything but a compliment. Phoenix didn’t know where he gathered the courage to be sarcastic, but his answer nevertheless dripped with insincerity.

“Gee, thanks.”

“Y'know what they say about really bright things, Phoenix?”

The boy gave a mute shake of his head.

“I’ll give you an example then. I understand you were friends with Edgeworth’s boy. He was rather bright, perhaps even a genius from what I’ve heard.”

It was like a cold splintering had spread through his heart, destroying what confidence he felt.

What did Miles have to do with anything?

“I’m sure his murder was a real-" he sniffed, pretending to cry again. “-tragedy.”

Phoenix wanted to leave, but his body wasn’t responding. All it did was take a further step away. Mr. Debeste noticed this, and leaned forwards. He stubbed the remains of cigarette, right on Phoenix’s shoulder. Ash split and curled, staining his shirt.

“The problem with the brightest things is that they burn out faster than the rest of us.”

They were sitting in the dining room when Phoenix decided he would try to tell them.

“Um-”

“Don’t say that.”

A fork was jabbed in his direction, scolding him.

“It makes you seem like you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I think Mister Debeste killed Larry’s mom.”

There was a jarring pause. The muted clinks of silverware ceased. His parents looked up from their dinner, and then at each other.

“It’s Uncle, not Mister.”

He would never call Mr. Debeste that, not in a million years. His parents wanted them to get along, that was always true of the friends they made. But there was something off about the man. If that wasn’t enough, Larry’s complaints would have sealed it.

“You should know better than to suggest such a silly thing. He’s a perfectly nice man who has lost his wife.”

“She was your best friend!” Phoenix wanted to yell at them both. “Why don’t you care?!”

“Then how come Larry doesn’t live with him? That’s not nice.”

They shared a strange parental telepathy. It passed through sharp glances and darted eyes. Phoenix couldn’t catch all the messages, but he was learning to intercept. Before either of them spoke, he knew what they would tell him.

“Stop pushing around that broccoli and eat it.”

Chapter Text

“Repeat after me: I will not confront people I suspect of murder.”

Under the Edgeworth glare, Phoenix did not have much of a choice.

“I will not… confront people I suspect of murder?”

“You’re not asking me, you’re saying so.”

“I will not confront people I suspect of murder,” Phoenix repeated, with conviction this time.

“Again.”

Phoenix had explained his suspicions to Mr. Edgeworth. Seeing how the man reacted, Phoenix learned something.

All of the grown-ups were afraid.

That was why his parents wouldn’t listen to him. That was why Mr. Edgeworth had gone very pale, and given him a quiet lecture about never accusing someone of a violent crime. Especially not alone, as a ten year-old. That was the job of the police.

“I will not confront people I suspect of murder.”

Blaise Debeste was Chief Prosecutor, and there were others around him who had “disappeared.” But no evidence, never proof of what he’d done. There wasn’t much any of them could do.

“Mister Edgeworth?”

“Why don’t we confront the people we suspect of murder?”

“Your hands are shaking.”

“What’s the answer?”

“I might get killed.”

Phoenix had his first lesson in the corruption of the justice system that day.

Phoenix was blankly looking at the computer screen, wondering what else could be added to his slideshow. One of his parents must have heard the lack of typing and clicking, because a hand was rested on his shoulder. Phoenix tried to shake it off, but it stuck there anyway, refusing to be moved.

“What are you trying to do?”

“School stuff,” he sighed, slouching against the back of the chair. “It’s about an important constitutional figure.”

Eyes scanned the bullet points which were already in place. Phoenix strongly wished he hadn’t stopped on the slide which mentioned the person was a defence attorney. Of course, things couldn’t go that way for him.

“I can think of a few prosecutors who-”

“We didn’t get to choose who we wanted.”

This was only a half-truth, but Phoenix showed the project handout anyway. He pointed to the bold “assigned” which was in the initial description.

“Hm.”

In actuality, Phoenix had gone to his teacher and asked if he could do something not on the list. It was allowed, because he was showing initiative by thinking so passionately at the project. If anything was suspected, it wasn’t mentioned.

“I’d do a prosecutor if I could,” he lied.

For some time, his parents blatantly pushed him in that direction. When applying for university, Phoenix had considered an arts program, just to spite them both. But he was on thin ice with them recently.

In another life, that would have been the final push needed.

Common sense took over in the end. Mostly because of Mr. Edgeworth. His logic was… ruthless. The arts wouldn’t get him far. Law, his other interest, would. And so his parents were placated a smidgen longer.

“Phoenix.”

Phoenix’s arms strained at the sound of his name, constricting around his middle. He looked to the side, away from where Mr. Edgeworth had entered. The man was breathless, voice weak.

“Are you here to yell at me?”

“N-no!” he stammered, before thinking to lower his voice. “No.”

“S’alright, the other ward mate is in a coma. We’re both fighting off the same poison, so treatment is easier.”

Phoenix had never seen the patient. A curtain divided the space, the direction he was looking in now. He could hear the beeps of life support though, and his artificial breathing. It was creepy, hollow. A perpetual buzzing of electricity filled the hospital room.

“I wish you would.”

“Pardon?”

“Yell at me.”

The chair scraped loudly as he sat down. Phoenix could feel his presence, resting near the other side of the bed.

“Raymond will be here soon. He’s just getting coffee for us in the cafeteria. Would you like anything?”

Phoenix was taken back to the coils of silver which had been poked down his esophagus, and scraped at the soft tissue of his innards. It was violating on a level he could barely describe. A groan passed his lips, and Phoenix tried to will the nausea away. There was nothing left to regurgitate.

“No.”

If he encountered a stomach pump again, it would be too soon.

“My parents are coming in a bit to drive me home. You should leave.”

They were just getting off of work. Mr. Edgeworth and Ray had as well. Contractually, neither could give up their cases without due notice to their defendants. Doing otherwise came at the risk of disbarment, and he couldn't put them through that. So Phoenix used his one phone call to contact his parents, and they found friend of a friend who ran a law firm.

“Do they plan on yelling at you?”

“I don’t know yet. But they really liked Dollie, a-and-"

She had been one of the few things they fully approved of in his life. In his studies, they would rather he specialized to become a prosecutor. In his friends, they did not understand why he still hung out with Larry, instead of “that extraordinarily nice Kristoph Gavin boy who lives down the street from us.”

“And?”

“They may have banned me from seeing you since you’re a defense attorney.”

“Phoenix,” he said, with a hissing sigh. “How long ago was that?”

“Ten, um, years?”

“Why do you-?”

Mr. Edgeworth stopped himself before he could finish the question. He was too polite of a person to ask. Phoenix knew what it was anyway.

“Why do you put up with them?”

“They’re my parents. I know they care about me, it’s just-" his voice broke. “I-I don’t want to lose anyone else right now. I don’t think I would…”

Phoenix squeezed his eyes shut, and tried to recall the words of his attorney. But he couldn't think of what Ms. Fey had said to him. It was just Dahlia’s sneering face and cutting remarks. Each one was like the glass bits he had swallowed.

“Heeere’s the coffee,” Ray announced in a too-chipper voice.

The fragrance of dark coffee flooded the room, and suddenly he was hungry again. But moving felt impossible. Phoenix wanted to curl into a lump under the thin sheets, and be forgotten about.

“What’s the doctor’s verdict?”

“No damages. But they pumped my stomach just to be safe. I don't need to stay overnight, so my parents are coming to take me home.”

“But you ate metal.”

“And glass.”

“Geeze, that’s lucky,” Ray gave a low whistle. “There’s a coffee for you here. I guess we’ll be going then. Get better, ok Nick?”

The styrofoam cup was set on the night stand facing him. The smell grew stronger, he could practically feel its warmth.

“Ok.”

Conversation floated down the hall with their departure.

“Raymond, did you know there was a ban on me?” Mr. Edgeworth asked, incredulously.

“You didn’t?” he innocently replied.

Phoenix didn’t hear the rest, because the heart monitor began to fluctuate. Shrill noises and pagers went off. The nurse who watched over the patient rushed in. A doctor followed, two more nurses trailing on her coat tails.

The man had awoken from his coma.

After denial had come anger, just as the stages of grief promised him. Bargaining and depression followed, but the anger at Dahlia never went away. It grew weaker, but it was still there. The last of too many lit matches. Years of being told lies and learning the realities of legal corruption built up. It was his melting point. If he didn't do something, Phoenix thought he could ignite.

For that reason, Phoenix had to confront Mr. Edgeworth. No more lying. Not to himself, not to anyone else.

“I’m going to become a prosecutor.”

“Is this because of your parents?”

“No,” Phoenix held his chin a bit higher. “It’s because of the truth. I want to find it, I want to stop people like her . The people who lie to their loved ones and-”

“I understand.”

“That’s why I want to- That’s why-” words began to fail Phoenix, and the tiny speech he’d prepared was forgotten. “Yeah.”

“So you’re adhering to their wishes then?”

“Nope. They want me to article under Blaise Debeste, but I ah, kinda’ told them that I’d already found someone willing to take me on.”

Phoenix would sooner take up Shakespearean theater, or drawing manga for a living, than apprentice under Blaise Debeste. That was the grand plan of his parents, and one Phoenix was happy to stay out of. They could settle with them being mere coworkers instead, even if it was reluctantly.

Phoenix could only imagine the type of prosecutor he would turn out to be. That was, if he even survived long enough to learn anything.

“And you haven’t?”

Phoenix shook his head.

“Phoenix, why do you do these things to yourself?” he groaned.

“I was hoping you or Ray could recommend me to someone?”

“Of course I will,” he sighed, rubbing his forehead. “I know someone through Detective Badd. He’s passionate about the truth, and I’m sure he’ll be happy to take you on.”

Phoenix had honestly expected more of an argument, not the man’s immediate acceptance. Ray might be a different story, and try to persuade him, but Phoenix knew that he wanted to seek the truth. It was through that he would protect people.

“So, you’re not too surprised with my decision?”

“...You always have despised liars.”

Mr. Edgeworth had looked away when he said that, grimacing at the wall and holding his arm in a death-grip. Phoenix figured it was out of acceptance, or disappointment.

Two years later, he would realize how wrong that assumption was.

Guilt.

Chapter Text

It’s been fifteen years.

I wonder, what would you think of me now?

There must have been some way I could’ve prevented this.

I feel like if I keep dwelling on what happened, I’ll fall into pieces.

The others need me, I shouldn’t be thinking along those lines. They’d kill me if-

Kill.

...I should stop. Everything should stop.

I just want this nightmare of lies and death to end.

Phoenix made the mistake once in his lifetime. The end results were so vicious that he never did it again. Ray offered a sympathetic ear to his story though, when it was obvious Mr. Edgeworth wasn’t going to come back.

“What did you do?”

“I just called him Dad instead of Mister Edgeworth by accident. It happens with teachers and stuff, so I don’t get why-”

Ray at least had the grace to not laugh.

“Oh man, I remember the first and last time I called him Pops. He was-”

“Upset?”

A cold sort of fury had settled over his face. He sharply demanded that Phoenix never slip up again. When Phoenix fumbled to apologize, explaining that he was “kind-of parent-ish” it ended badly.

“I failed at that, Phoenix. I don’t deserve to be called anything of the sort.”

Then he left the office with a face that was patent Edgeworth red.

“Mhm. It was at a really bad point too. Right after Miles…” Ray didn’t finish, frowning. “I wouldn’t worry. It’s a sensitive topic, and you had bad timing. Just like me. Wanna’ hug to make it all better?”

“You’re probably right.”

But why did it feel like there was something he was missing?

“Christmas,” Phoenix muttered to himself. He dragged a palm across his face, as if that would wake him up. “Ugh.”

Phoenix felt around for his cellphone, and checked the time. It was eight, but most of the world was probably awake by now. He decided to make a call first, but Mr. Edgeworth didn’t pick up. That could mean he was still angry, or didn’t have the energy to talk. So he called Ray, because they were supposed to be at work. He didn’t answer either.

Worrying now, Phoenix threw on something half-presentable and rushed over to the law firm. Holiday traffic and special transportation schedules made the journey longer than it needed to be, and twice as agonizing.  

Police tape was tied around the building’s perimeter like a twisted Christmas present. A blue-uniformed officer was standing guard outside the doors, and he saw two more discussing over coffee in the cruiser.

“Mr. Edgeworth! No, he wouldn’t-?”

He ducked under the tape and made a beeline for the guarding officer. The woman opened her mouth to tell him off, but Phoenix clipped his badge to his lapel. It wasn’t his case (whatever had happened) but he might have the authority to poke around if he pretended.

“What happened here?” Phoenix asked, hoping he didn’t sound too desperate.

In his mind, it seemed an eternity passed before he understood what the policewoman was saying.

“Kidnapping.”

Not suicide then, thank everything not that. Phoenix almost sobbed with relief.

“What are the specifics?”

“Well,” she took out her police notes. “At approximately two-thirty this morning, the daughter of a prosecutor went missing. Based upon an anonymous tip, she was found here with the kidnapper.”

“Could we go inside? It’s cold out here.”

It was a green, melting Christmas. But Phoenix still made a show of rubbing his arms, and looking miserably cold. She nodded, and then waved to the other officers. While they took positions at the door, they went inside and to the office’s main room.

“Are the detectives all done?” Phoenix asked.

“Yes, but there was some conflict with who was in charge. We’re stationed here until that is resolved.”

The closet was a jumble of hangers and fallen coats, as if someone had gone inside and knocked everything over.

“Why here?”

“The kidnapper was an attorney who works at this firm. The current motive appears to be blackmail.”

“B-blackmail? At-attorney?!”

“As evidenced by the letter found at the scene,” she handed him a photographed copy of it. “The victim is the daughter of Manfred von Karma. This is because he’s set to convict the kidnapper’s boss for murder tomorrow.”

When he opened his mouth to reply, his voice was strangely missing. All that came out was a pained, high-pitched squeak.

Phoenix didn’t bother with public transportation.

To get to the detention center, he ran.

The industrial-looking clock only read quarter to nine when he entered. Mr. Edgeworth was still in questioning, so he went to see Ray first. A shrill buzzing sounded, marking the time allotted to them had begun. From the start, Phoenix knew that something was wrong. Ray had to be frog-marched in, he was barely standing. His hat was missing, a bandage in its place.

“Phoe-nix? What’re you doing… here?”

“I’m the one who should be asking that!”

“I’ve gotta’ concussion, they say. I just remember leaving and falling.”

“Why are both of you in detention?”

Ray looked around, blinking dazedly at the fluorescent lights. He rubbed the back of his neck, abashed.

“S ’zat where I am?”

“He can’t possibly be fit to stand trial,” Phoenix said, turning his attention to the guard. “They shouldn’t even interrogate.”

“I don’t decide these things. His attorney can make a motion to the judge, but he says they’ll be fine.”

“Attorney?” Ray asked. “I don’t have one.”

“We’ve got your letter of permission on file. You’ve requested… Robert Hammond.”

“No I didn’t. I don’t know any Bobert… Hams.”

That was worrying. Ray couldn’t request an attorney in a state like this.

“Could I have a copy of that letter?”

Once one was given to him, Phoenix returned his focus to Ray.

“What-”

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” a guard apologetically said, entering. “But Mr. Shield’s attorney is here. You’ll need to leave.”

“Aha! So the mysterious not-attorney arrives!”

“Excuse me Sir-”

The man looked at with dark, cold eyes.

“I’m afraid I’m very busy,” he answered in a clipped tone. “I have no time to speak with you.”

“Urk! It’s like I’m gum stuck on the bottom of his shoe!”

He brushed past Phoenix and entered the meeting room. Phoenix thought of trying to listen, but the guard in the way ended that option quickly. Maybe he could distract the guard and then eavesdrop?

“Gregory Edgeworth is out of interrogation now,” the guard said, as if he knew every detail of what Phoenix was contemplating. “You can speak with him.”

“It didn’t take long for you to arrive.”

“What is it with everyone and glaring at me in contempt today?” Phoenix thought, wincing. “What happened? They’re saying that you-”

Phoenix didn’t know why, but his voice broke.

“I’m only going to say this once Phoenix: Take Ray’s case and lose it if you can. But as a prosecutor, there is nothing you can do to help me.”

“I c-can take control of the case! O-or get the investigators to find more evidence!”

“Stay out of this.”

Phoenix didn’t know why, but the fifteen year-old memory came to him, clear as day. Mr. Edgeworth had spoken in that same, condescending tone.

“Go home, Phoenix.”

Mr. Edgeworth refused to answer any questions. His glare just got worse the harder Phoenix tried, so Phoenix gave up for the time being. A flutter of panic began in his stomach. He still had no idea what was going on. The entire world seemed to be falling apart before him.

“The precinct,” he decided. “That’s my next best bet.”

There was a creepy Blue Badger clock sitting on the Chief’s desk. Its digital eyes read ten o’clock. It didn’t strike with the hour, but it did strike fear into Phoenix’s heart. With a lingering detective, Phoenix updated himself on the cases. He did this while waiting for Badd to get out of a meeting.

“Off the case? Absolute… bull…”

Badd’s voice was louder than normal. The sharp crunching of lollipops told Phoenix all he needed to know about the detective’s mood.

“Detective Badd!”

“I know kid,” he growled, swiping viciously at the papers on his desk. “I’ve already been kicked off the investigation team.”

“What?! Why?”

“Every time Manfred von Karma’s set to prosecute… I end up moved. We don’t… get along.”

There went one of his safest bets. How was he supposed to get an in on the investigation then?

“Who’s running it now?”

“Gumshoe.”

Phoenix added that to his growing list of things to do. Gumshoe would be somewhere around Gourd Lake, searching for evidence. He would need to go there to talk.

“Could you start looking at Ray’s situation?” Phoenix asked, tapping his chin. “Their cases are connected, evidence might overlap.”

“I’ll do that. What about you?”

“I need to get Prosecutor Faraday to steal Ray’s case from Payne. I can play the mentor card and get involved with the trial.”

“Tricky,” he nodded with appreciation. “But what about… Gregory?”

“I have a plan for that too.”

I know this was originally meant for you. That’s why I… I never had the heart to get rid of it.

I spent a stupid amount of money on craft supplies, trying to make this look authentic.

In that way, I guess it really did pay off.

Geeze, even now I can feel you glaring at me for that pun. I’ll be sure not to do it again.

I hope you’re not too upset with me for this. It was supposed to be your Christmas present after all.

But I’ll get to the bottom of this, I promise.

(Fake attorney’s badge added to the court record.)

Chapter Text

His investigation at Gourd Lake was cut short. About five seconds short. Just as Phoenix was approaching the shoreline, Detective Gumshoe came running towards him.

“Hey! You! This side of the park’s closed off pal!”

“I’m a defence attorney,” he lied, presenting the badge to Gumshoe.

Phoenix held his breath, silently hoping that this would work. He and Gumshoe had done some cases in the past together, but the detective worked with many prosecutors. With any luck, he wouldn’t be recognized.

“Sorry, but unless you’ve got a letter of permission from your client, I can’t let you go any further.”

All he had was a fake attorney’s badge, so Phoenix had to give up for the time being. His next stop was to return to the Edgeworth and Co office. None of the officers from before were there. Phoenix noticed as he tried the door that the lock rattled, the tumblers of it making a grating sound. It was open, but when he checked the other side of the door, the lock was sitting at a funny angle.

“Huh, that’s weird. Is the lock broken?”

Detective Badd was crouched near the closet, inspecting something. He straightened up when Phoenix entered.  

“Where have you been?” Badd asked.

“I tried to visit Gourd Lake, but I can’t get far without a letter of permission.”

“Sounds… normal.”

“I just don’t get why Mister Edgeworth won’t let me do anything.”

“Well…”

“Well what?”

“I think he’s in shock.”

“You’re hiding something,” a part of him noted, furious. “What are you not saying about Mister Edgeworth’s case to me? You know that I need all the information I can if I want to find the real culprits!”

Pressure wasn’t going to work with the detective. He needed evidence, some way that would persuade him to come clean. So Phoenix decided to move on.

“What have you found?”

“Nothing much, unless you count this.”

From the mess of fallen coats and hangers in the closet, he pulled out something long. Phoenix didn’t know what it was at first, but a closer look revealed it was…

“A whip?”

“Von Karma’s kid… She’s been known to carry one around…”

The whip was dropped into an evidence bag and numbered.

“I saw that there was something funny with the lock,” Phoenix added, seeing if there was any other information to be had.

Badd shook his head negative.

“S’ normal. Police probably kicked it in when entering.”

Disappointed by the lack of a lead, Phoenix nodded. He mentally updated the information about the lock, and then thought of what else he could ask Badd. It felt like he was missing out, since he had been running between locations.

“Is there anything else? More evidence?”

“Just this photo of the crime scene.”

The scene was set outside a familiar building- the detention center. The parking lot was cleared of cars and salted. Bits of paper (likely confetti from a holiday celebration) were littered near the curb. There was a slushy, brownish puddle.

“Whose blood?”

“Forensics reports that it’s Raymond’s.”

“Why did they take this?”

“Victim says she was attacked when leaving the detention center.”

“At two-thirty in the morning?”

“Your guess… Is as good as mine. You want me to… check their security logs?”

“Yeah,” he rubbed his forehead, trying to piece together what this could mean. “Anything… else?”

Badd glared at him.

“You making fun of me?”

“N-no sir!”

Phoenix gave a winning smile full of teeth. He didn’t realize he had even imitated the detective to begin with. Now was not the time to anger anyone.

“I’m going to head out and investigate around the detention center some more. You got anything to ask before I leave?”

Phoenix didn’t know why, but he pulled out his attorney’s badge and presented it to Badd. The man stared a moment.

“Let’s just hope your skill at arts and crafts is as good as your defending.”

Poking around the office was fruitless, Phoenix didn’t find anything else of use. There was also no point in going to the detention center, until Badd was done processing the area for himself. Phoenix decided he would try to figure out more about the attorney he would be facing. A quick search revealed that Robert Hammond worked at the Grossberg Law Firm. He might be able to catch and confront Hammond over his intentions. The man clearly hadn’t received Raymond’s permission to be his attorney, and so Phoenix might learn why there was something more going on.

Everything about the office’s interior looked expensive. It was decorated with warm colours, and the rug beneath his feet was plush.

“It’s probably worth more than half a year’s pay,” Phoenix thought, wriggling his toes. “And here I am, dressed in yesterday’s work clothes.”

Someone was leaning near the window. Their figure was a dark silhouette, against the sunny Christmas outdoors. As Phoenix approached, the person turned around.

“Ah, I know you.”

“Even with that visor over your head, I know you know I know you too.”

The man tilted his head back, finishing the dregs of coffee from his mug.

“How um, are you?”

“As good as I’ll ever be at this point,” he answered, fluffing his white hair. “You?”

Phoenix brought a hand to his own head, where he knew permanently white streaks dyed black were.

“Dead on my feet. Is Robert Hammond in?”

The man went to the coffee pot, to refill. Then he poured another cup for Phoenix. There was no sugar or milk in sight. Phoenix politely accepted it, letting the coffee bring some heat back to his cold fingers.

“‘Fraid not. Is that old bat defending someone you know?”

“Yes, but-”

“You’re trying to get him to change his strategy, right?”

“What are you talking about?”

The man made a face which had nothing to do with the dark coffee.

“He’s one of those types who gives attorneys a bad name. His specialty is that if a case is too tough, he’ll just use a plea of insanity or automatism to get the client off. But a guy doesn’t know that, going into court. All they see is his low rate of convictions.”

A person might be found not criminally responsible, but they could still receive an indefinite sentence in a mental institution. In many cases, a guilty verdict and a jail sentence would be the lighter of the two.

“I see. Not an ideal attorney then.”

“Far from it. This example’s before my time here, but one of his clients was a murder suspect. Hammond got the guy off, but it ruined his life. He lost his job, family, the woman he loved, and so he decided to…” the man made a crass gesture. “Hammond got temporarily got disbarred for it, actually.”

“Really? On what grounds?”

He sneered condescendingly.

“It’s not about victory. It’s about doing what’s best for your client, respecting their wishes. Hammond ignored that rule, so the Bar Association gave him a warning.”

“So that’s the kind of guy I’m dealing with then. Definitely not a friendly face.”

“Is there anything else you wanted to know?”

At this point there was no sense in being shy.

“Can I see inside his office for a sec?”

Phoenix got the distinct impression the man had raised an eyebrow at that. Wordlessly, he fished around on a key ring and unlocked the door. The room was decorated similarly to the main office: pricy carpet, rich colours, and a few weird figurines as well.

“You looking at the Thinker?”

“Is that what it is?” Phoenix asked, incredulous.

“Yeah,” without hesitation, he snatched it down from the shelf to show to Phoenix. “This gal I know got it from some weirdo she defended. I got it from her. Hammond got it from me. An early Christmas present.”

“An ugly Christmas present,” Phoenix said aloud.

“Hah! You can say that again,” he laughed, tossing it to Phoenix.

It was fairly weighty, for such a puny statue. The base was a clock (it was almost time for Ray’s court case and he still wasn’t ready!) but it appeared somewhat rusty. Brownish stains were on the bottom corners. As Phoenix went to put it back, he noticed something else, stored behind the books. One wouldn’t be able to see it, unless they were specifically reaching for the thinker. It was a stun gun.

“Huh, weird place to keep a dangerous weapon.”

Phoenix knew he was getting desperate, because he jotted down notes, and snapped some pictures.

“Thanks uh, for your help.”

“If it wasn’t for your friends bringing coffee, I’d probably still be lost in the charred depths of hell. Besides, anything that will get his case destroyed in court is fine with me.”

“Yeesh, I really wouldn’t want to get on this guy’s bad side,” Phoenix thought. “W-wait, how did you know I’m a prosecutor?”

“I didn’t,” he grinned, teeth flashing.

Phoenix bowed his head.

“Thank-you for letting me in, even though I am the opposition.”

“You weren’t lying when you said you wanted to save someone. Which is strange. I’ve never known a prosecutor to be interested in that. It’s always about saving society, a concept, from the individuals who do it wrong.”

“It’s a long story, but I’ve got to find the truth if I want to save them both.”

“The truth… is a very bitter thing,” he swirled the coffee in his mug, as if demonstrating something. “Are you prepared to handle it?”

Hammond was lying about being Ray’s attorney, Detective Badd was hiding information from him, and Mr. Edgeworth wasn’t talking either.

There would be a lot of truth in his near future, if Phoenix had any say about it.

“Bitter or not, I’ve still got court in ten minutes.”

Chapter Text

Phoenix arrived at court with few minutes to spare. Prosecutor Faraday was sitting on a couch in the lobby, reviewing what little evidence there was for the case.

“You’re late,” he commented, flipping around the photo of the detention center.

“Sorry, I’ve been busy,” Phoenix said, his breathing heavy. “Did you talk to the witnesses?”

“Witness,” he corrected.

That almost had Phoenix wanting to roll his eyes. He was finished studying under Prosecutor Faraday and the man was still coaching him. The seriousness of the situation prevented Phoenix from taking things too lightly.

“Even better, there’s just one.”

Prosecutor Faraday scoffed at that.

“Hardly,” he shut the file with an audible snap, and turned serious eyes to him. “Phoenix, I have to warn you that she’s very, insistent, about you getting a conviction.”

“I think anyone who was kidnapped would be.”

“Erm, there’s a little more to it then that.”

Before he could elaborate, a bailiff indicated they could enter the courtroom. Phoenix stopped outside the threshold, squaring his shoulders and taking a deep inhale. This was where everything began. Everyone settled into their positions too quickly for Phoenix’s liking. It didn’t give him time to glance over much, or prepare his excuses. The judge was already calling out their names.

“I’m letting my understudy get some practice in with this case,” Prosecutor Faraday coolly explained, before the judge could ask.

“I see,” he nodded. “Are you prepared for this Mister Wright? Kidnapping is not a light charge you know.”

“Yes, Your Honour.”

The judge looked to Hammond, to ask the next question.

“Where is your client?”

The chair for the defendant was conspicuous by its emptiness.

Phoenix narrowed his eyes when the man said, “Due to the nature of Mister Shield’s injuries, it was agreed upon that he would not sit in court. Additional stimulation would only worsen his head injury at this time. I have a copy of his diagnosis right here.”

His lie was oily, every bit as practiced as Prosecutor Faraday’s had been. Ray’s diagnosis was entered into the court. Phoenix’s copy told him nothing he didn’t already know about Ray’s state.

“What a bunch of bull! Ok, well, maybe it would be bad for Ray, but he should have made a motion to say he was not fit to stand trial!”

Legally, only the defence could argue that the accused was not fit to stand trial. It was the job of the prosecution to disprove that, so Phoenix couldn’t raise the issue.

“That is indeed a very grave condition to be in,” said the judge. “Very well then. Would the prosecution please give its opening statement at this time?”

“I would like to forego that, Your Honour, in favour of discussing the evidence.”

“My, this trial is full of unusual decisions today! But that is your right, Mister Wright.”

Detective Badd came to the stand, twirling a lollipop. He verified his name and occupation, before being sworn in

“Detective Badd, could you please give us an outline of events?”

“The kidnapping happened just before two-thirty this morning. The victim was leaving the detention center when she was attacked and taken away. An anonymous tip came in half an hour later. The witness stated they saw one person carrying another into the neighbouring office, but gave no description of what the people looked like. The police arrived ten minutes afterwards, found both the witness and the accused, who was passed out.”

“Thank-you.”

“Would counsel like to cross-examine at this time?”

“Yes, Your Honour.”

Phoenix didn’t comment, waiting to see what Hammond was going to ask.

“Can you describe the scene of the crime?”

“Which… one?

“The office first.”

Badd had the picture of the office and its messy closet, as well as the messy “ransom letter” found there. The message only had “von Karma” written on the top, in near-unintelligible chicken scratch. Nothing new was found from asking about what the state of the office was in.

“You said the victim was attacked outside of the detention centre. Can you tell us what this area looks like?”

Badd took out the photo of the parking lot, and it was officially entered into evidence.

“Where was the victim attacked?”

“Closer… to the curb… where those paper tabs are.”

“Oh my! Is that blood?” asked the judge.

“You would think he’s never seen it before!”

“Whose blood is on the ground?”

“Raymond… Shields’…”

There was murmuring from the visitor’s gallery. The judge made a motion to shush the crowd, and then said, “Miss von Karma must have put up a strong fight then. It’s quite amazing that she didn’t get away!”

“I’m afraid that isn’t the case Your Honour. Mister Shields slipped in the middle of the detention center parking lot, likely on some ice, which is how he sustained his head injury. Detective Badd has already testified that the victim was attacked near the edge of the parking lot, where there is no blood.”

“I see.”

A sharp pain sprang upon his foot. Phoenix was hard-pressed not to yelp in surprise. He looked at Prosecutor Faraday accusingly, wondering why the man had done such a thing.

“Phoenix!” he whispered. “No lawyer worth their salt just stands there and gapes! Do something!”

“What do I say?” Phoenix hissed back. “There hasn’t been anything I can object to yet.”

“We already know Hammond’s case is centered around a lie; find a way to refute it.”

“You know, it wouldn’t hurt if you helped me with some of this thinking stuff.”

His grimace must have caught the attention of the judge.

“Is there a problem Mister Wright?”

Phoenix was about to say there wasn’t, but he could feel the pressure of Faraday’s foot on his toes.

“Yes, there is,” he said, wincing a little harder with each syllable.

“... And what would that be?”

What would that be?

Phoenix wracked his brains to think. He recalled the evidence which had been submitted thus far. Left with no choice, Phoenix presented the only thing he could imagine being relevant, the detention center picture.

“Here, Your Honour.”

“I fail to see anything, Mister Wright.”

Now he could feel all the stares of the courtroom. Phoenix could already visualize the penalty he was going to receive. He regarded the picture, searching for the element which would show contradiction.

“Any lawyer worth their salt… Salt! That’s it!”

“Yelling ‘take that’ in my courtroom does very little to clarify things you know.”

“Right uh,” Phoenix awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, blushing. “Look at the salt on the ground, Your Honour! How could have Raymond Shields slipped on ice when there couldn’t have been any to begin with?”

“Objection!” Hammond shot back. “There could have been a patch which wasn’t salted properly!”

“Then why is the blood in a dilute puddle of water?” Phoenix challenged.

Chatter arose in the gallery again. This time, the judge had to bang his gavel, until the speculation died down.

“Can you give any further explanation for this Mister Hammond?”

In spite of his setback, Hammond did not appear fazed. His face was still, hardly a muscle twitched. Phoenix almost got the impression he was made of jaundiced wax.

“Then he tripped and fell. The existence of ice was just a theory, after all. There is no reason for his blood to be there otherwise.”

“Darn! I was sure I had something there.”

“Very well. Resume your cross-examination.”

“Detective, I can’t help but notice you have many specifics about the times surrounding this crime. Is there a reason for that?”

What was Hammond trying to get out of the conversation? Phoenix listened carefully, wanting to figure out his intentions.

“The station… keeps logs of calls… and police actions… obviously.”

Badd didn’t waste the effort of concealing his annoyance.

“How did you know the approximate time of when Miss von Karma was attacked then?”

“I object to the relevance of this question,” Phoenix interrupted. “Detective Badd has already told us once where the information came from.”

“Well he hasn’t explained how he knows the time of the kidnapping.”

“Hrm,” Badd mumbled, opening another lollipop.

“Detective Badd, could you please give us your reasoning?” asked the judge.

Badd’s face remained mostly neutral, but Phoenix knew that he was struggling with something.

“Here.”

It was the visitor log for the detention center.

“Urk!” Phoenix could feel cold sweat beginning to prickle at his forehead. “I should have pressed harder to stop that from entering!”

Looking at the slate of times, there was nothing promising.

11:00 PM- DEC 24, 2016- Franziska von Karma- Sign in

11:05 PM- DEC 24, 2016- Manfred von Karma- Sign in

01:54 AM- DEC 25, 2016- Raymond Shields- Sign in

02:00 AM- DEC 25, 2016- Robert Hammond- Sign in

02:11 AM- DEC 25, 2016- Robert Hammond- Sign out

02:25 AM- DEC 25, 2016- Franziska von Karma- Sign out

02:28 AM- DEC 25, 2016- Raymond Shields- Sign out

“Yikes, this really looks bad on Ray!”

“I am finished with my cross-examination.”

“Double-yikes!”

But the detective had done all that he could. Phoenix’s heart fell as he slunk away from the stand, to join the bench of witnesses. Badd had done all that he could. From hereon out, he and prosecutor Faraday were on their own.

“At this time, I would like to call for the defence of automatism, Your Honour.”

There it was, the thing which Hammond’s co-worker had warned him about. He would rather secure a not-guilty verdict not through disproving the facts of the case, but by twisting them to fit the guidelines of the defence. If Hammond won, Ray could still receive an indefinite sentence in a psychiatric institution, until officials deemed he was “well enough” to leave. If he won, it meant jail. On top of that, both paths guaranteed that no one would be there to help Mr. Edgeworth in court.

“Automatism, are you sure?”

“The evidence clearly shows that my client was the perpetrator. However, he also sustained a dangerous blow to the head, causing a variety of symptoms. This injury, combined with the blood loss, and the shock of his mentor being a stone-hearted murderer, induced a state in which he cannot be considered mentally liable.”

“Just the other day I saw Mister Edgeworth watching cute dog videos instead of doing paperwork! You’re the stone-hearted one!”

“That makes sense. But if the trial is going to take this route, I must check: Mister Wright, do you know what the automatism defence is? This is essential, as your job will be to disprove it, rather than demonstrate that the accused did the crime”

“Y-yes, of course. Automatism is…” Phoenix ran through various options in his mind, trying to find the specific answer. It didn’t involve being hit by a car, and it wasn’t a defence where the accused was framed by a robot, which left only one choice. “Automatism is when the accused was in a state where their mind was separate from their body. This can be caused by something like sleepwalking, seizures, or blows to the head. Thus, they were not responsible for their actions.”

“Fhew!” Prosecutor Faraday sighed. “The time you were taking had me worried there Phoenix.”

“Could anyone at least have a little faith in me?”

“Are you going to contest this, or should I hand down my verdict now?”

“The prosecution would like to call its first witness to the stand.”

“Its only witness,” Faraday muttered under his breath.

“Not helping.”

Phoenix had originally wondered why the victim was not sitting in the court. He knew it was common practice to prevent the trauma of testifying in front of an alleged attacker, but Ray wasn’t in the building to start with. The second she marched into the room and introduced herself, Phoenix learned exactly why that was.

Franziska von Karma threw pens at anyone who slightly irritated her. By all logic, she should have run out within five seconds of being at the witness stand, but the court was not that lucky. Apparently she had hurled enough at one bailiff to intimidate him into crawling around the floor and picking them up to return. More or less, Franziska had an infinite supply of pens she could throw like mini javelins.

“Witness,” the judge began, shielding his face with his gavel. “Would you please refrain from-”

“Raymond Shields is guilty. A simple blow to the head would not cause him to believe he should kidnap another human being.”

“Please, Miss von Karma-”

It took three more pens to his shiny head for the judge to shut up.

“There! You now have a bump on your head! Do you feel like kidnapping me?!”

“No,” he answered, almost sulkily.

“Then my case is closed! Lock up the abductor and the mentor he obviously learned his evil ways from!”

“Miss uh, von Karma, could we discuss what happened to you?”

“There is no need! Raymond Shields is guilty beyond a reasonable doubt. You must simply prove that a stupid hit on the head would not cause his actions!”

At the moment, Phoenix didn’t know if Franziska was a hindrance or an ally. Hammond had yet to speak up. If he was daunted by Franziska, nothing about his composure gave it away. The few pens which had launched in his direction fell short of their target- he had slightly backed from the desk so they could no longer reach. Phoenix copied his, but Prosecutor Faraday was content to hit them out of the air before they could reach his face.

“If we go over the facts, that will help make things clear for the court,” Phoenix said, trying again.

“If I must,” Franziska rubbed the back of her neck. “What would you have me speak of first?”

The court gave a collective sigh of relief.

“Let’s start with some context. Can you tell me about your time at the detention center?”

“Papa called me in the evening at ten-thirty, asking me to meet him at the detention center at five past eleven. I am too young to drive in your country, therefore, I hailed a taxi. It arrived around quarter to, and I was dropped off within ten minutes. After I was finished speaking with him, I left. As I was in the parking lot, calling for a second taxi, that no-good defence attorney-!”

“We’ll discuss that part next,” Phoenix said. It was surprisingly simple to interrupt Franziska when her pens couldn’t reach his eyes. “First, there are a few details I want to go over with you.”

“You said your father called you to the detention center at ten-thirty, long after standard visiting hours are over. Why is that?”

“FOOL!”

“Ack!”

So it turned out he wasn’t safe from pens, if he aggravated Franziska enough.

“We are both prosecutors! Papa was there waiting for an interrogation to finish, but my work was over for the day. It was convenient to meet him there.”

“Convenient, really? Having to call a late-night taxi seems a bit out-of-the-way to me.”

Franziska just glared at him.

“He could have at least given you a drive there and back!” Phoenix thought, sweating. “Right, um, while you were there, did you see anyone else?”

“Papa entered. And there was that defence attorney.” When she pointed the pen in Hammond’s direction, at least half of the courtroom flinched.  “The second attorney, I saw near the end of my conversation with Papa.”

“The visitor’s log showed you were there a while,” Phoenix said, pulling it out. “Were you really talking for that long?”

“I am not the one on trial here!” Franziska snapped. “Nevertheless, there were several interruptions. A third defence attorney was brought in, and Papa immediately volunteered his time, taking up the case.”

“Mister Edgeworth and Ray do have names you know.”

“Then the second attorney came in, stirring up a fuss and declaring that he was there to represent his mentor in court.”

“None of this is contradictory with the evidence that I have. She isn’t lying, even if she does want Raymond to be convicted. I guess I’ll have to move on to something else.”

“Alright, let’s talk about after you left the detention center. What happened?”

“I was attacked at two twenty-six,” she answered, bringing a hand to the back of her neck. “I had just called the taxi service when I was stunned from behind. During that time, I was restrained, and taken to the office.”

“Stunned? Do you know how?”

Her fingers curled.

“I recall it feeling… unpleasant. I would have fallen if he hadn’t caught me.”

“But you don’t know how it was caused?”

“Likely a physical blow. He could not be armed, after all, due to the security protocol of the detention center.”

“I see,” Phoenix said. Then, he decided to steal a line from Hammond. “I noticed you knew the specific time you were attacked. Is there a reason for that?”

“It’s registered in my call logs,” Franziska scoffed.

“Your Honour, I would like to add this to the list of evidence.”

“I fail to see the relevance of that, Mister Wright.”

“It’s important Your Honour,” Phoenix said, pressing his hands on the table. “I promise.”

“Care to tell us what that is?”

“If this list of calls is to be believed, then there is a glaring contradiction in the case.”

“Whaaat?”

“How! Dare! You! Insinuate! My! Testimony! Is! Not! Perfect!” Franziska punctuated each word with a new pen to throw.

“It’s not in your testimony!” Phoenix replied, using his mentor as a shield. “It’s in the case itself!”

“Hmph.”

“The call was made at two twenty-six. Right as that happened, Miss von Karma was attacked. But when you combine this with another piece of evidence, you’ll realize something important!”

“What evidence would that be?”

Phoenix could sense the glares of the audience, bearing down on him again. Despite the pressure, his sweating wasn’t any worse. He knew the answer. It wasn’t either of the photos, or the ransom letter. It couldn’t have anything to do with Franziska’s whip. Phoenix thought of presenting his fake attorney’s badge, just to see what would happen, but he knew better than to waste time like that.

“The list of visitors,” Phoenix said, tapping the page. “If you look closely it says that Raymond signed out at two twenty-eight. But the victim was attacked at two twenty-six!”

There was an uproar of shocked voices. Snippets of amazed conversations flitted down to him, praising his logic. Prosecutor Faraday smiled at him, proud of discovering a flaw in the case. It made him feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside.

“Tch.”

“So much for that happy feeling,” Phoenix groaned, when he saw the look on Hammond’s face.

“Have you no common sense at all? The phone’s clock could be off by a few minutes. There’s nothing more to it.”

“Except for the part where it is correct, because I have it synchronized perfectly with the atomic clock,” Franziska snarled at him. She was too caught up to notice the information wasn’t in her favour. “Besides, it is not difficult to check it now and see that it matches with the court clock.”

“But then-”

“An accomplice.”

A hush fell over the court. All attention was drawn to the sour man.

“Mister Shields contacted someone who was outside of the detention center to help with his plan.”

“Do you have any evidence to support this?” asked the judge.

“We already know my client is the culprit because the victim was found in his office, and he was there.”

“Objection! I thought your theory was that he hit his head and that made him attack Miss von Karma! Unless there was a time-travelling phone booth for him nearby, that isn’t possible!”

“Objection,” Hammond didn’t bother to point. He calmly dusted some lint off his sleeve. “Once again, Mister Wright, you’ve proven that your imagination is utterly… lacking.”

“So says the twister of facts!”

“Did you just assume that he fell while leaving the detention center?”

Oh great he was sweating again.

“Urk! Well… Yeah…”

Then pain exploded in his foot. Phoenix saw stars dancing across his vision.

“You did it for a sound reason,” Faraday mumbled to him. “Think. Why would that be?”

Why would he assume that Ray fell afterwards? Because he had been chasing after Franziska? Because he would have been messy? Maybe it had to do with the paper stuff on the ground?

“I’ve gotta’ concussion, they say. I just remember leaving and falling.”

No, Ray had told him so, but he needed evidence.

“Wait,” Phoenix took out the Ray’s diagnosis. “It says here that Mister Shields had severe blood loss. His hair was probably a dripping mess of blood in that case. They wouldn’t let him get into the detention center looking like such a disaster!”

“He could have insisted that head wounds bleed a lot, or defending his beloved mentor was a more pressing issue.”

“You don’t have any proof to back that up!”

“I don’t need proof. I was merely suggesting a possibility, not asserting it.”

“There’s an easy way to clear this up you know,” the judge said, having regained some sense of authority. “What was the state of the accused Miss von Karma?”

“I…” Franziska gripped her sleeve. “I don’t know.”

“Don’t know? But you saw him!”

“He ran past us,” Franziska retorted. “And he was wearing that ugly hat! It may have concealed the wound.”

“Hrm, well, that doesn’t solve much. At this time, I think it is best to call a short recess. We can pick up on a new issue afterwards.”

It was with a heavy sigh that Phoenix left the court.

“Have I gotten anywhere? Every time I raise a point, Hammond makes up some story to trivialize it.”

That worry was temporarily forgotten, as a bluer, spikier, pen-wielding one took its place.

Franziska did not seem pleased with him for trying to show Ray’s innocence.  

Chapter Text

“Hey! Ow! Stop that!”

Phoenix raised his arms, to protect himself from the pens.

“I can’t,” Franziska said, rubbing the back of her neck. “You, Faraday, pick up these pens.”

“Sure thing.”

Phoenix watched in dismay as his mentor busied himself with finding the pens. At least that meant Franziska was unarmed, for the time being.

“What do you mean you can’t stop throwing them?” Phoenix asked. “I don’t think it would be that hard.”

Franziska averted her gaze, not answering.

“Is it because…” Phoenix brought up the whip. “Of this? I remember hearing that you carried one around.”

“Yes,” Franziska reached out for it, and then stopped. “Where was it?”

“The… huh, that’s weird now that I think about it. The closet.”

“FOOL! I was trapped in the closet! Why would my weapon be left with me instead of confiscated?”

“Yeah, it doesn’t seem like a very smart thing to do. That would up the chances of…”

It would guarantee that Ray was caught, either by Franziska, or the police.

“I suppose it’s evidence now,” she sighed.

“Cheer up, you can always get a new one,” Phoenix said. “Or maybe try pacifism instead.”

“Faraday, pen.”

Franziska outstretched her palm, and she was given one to throw.

“No I cannot! That whip was irreplaceable, given to me by my Papa!”

“So much for trying make her feel better. Now I’m hurting too!”

Despite this, Phoenix felt a little bad for her. No matter how much pain the whip had caused, it still appeared to be something important to Franziska.

“Does your um, father carry around a whip as well?”

If so, that was going to make Mr. Edgeworth’s trial a lot more dangerous than it already was.

“No, he has a tazer.”

Phoenix thought about the one he had seen in Hammond’s office. On a hunch, he showed Franziska the picture of it.

“A tazer, you mean like this?”

“Yes, exactly like that one. It’s a perfect model.”

“Maybe you can upgrade,” he suggested.

“No,” she brushed fingers against her neck, fussing with the edges of her hair. “I-”

Suddenly, Phoenix came to notice something.

“Why do you keep doing that?”

“Doing what?”

Phoenix mirrored the action of rubbing his neck. Franziska had done it multiple times now, and Phoenix would have written it off as a habit. At least, if he hadn’t seen Ray doing the exact same thing when talking about the attack.

“My neck is merely sore,” she answered, flushing. “Try being trapped in a closet and see what it does for your spine.”

Then the bailiff indicated they should return to court, putting an end to their conversation. As people filed back, the judge banged his gavel, and indicated that court was in session.

“Mister Wright, where are you going to proceed from here?”

“I am going to resume my direct examination of the witness, Your Honour.”

“Very well then, proceed.”

Franziska returned to the stand, looking grumpy as ever.

“Can you tell us about what happened after you were attacked?”

“I was blinded first, and then restrained. I was carried to a car. The drive was short, and I was locked in the closet. I slowly regained control of my muscles while there. I am not sure of how long it look for the police to arrive, but they found me.”

“There’s not a lot to go off with that. I’ll have to make the most of each question I ask.”

“Did you hear anything during the period that you were locked up?”

“Beyond the attorney walking around the room for a time, nothing.”

“Something’s wrong with that statement.”

Phoenix paused, rubbing his chin as he remembered. Reviewing the evidence found at the scene, he came to one conclusion.

“Didn’t you hear the police breaking down the door?” Phoenix asked, showing the broken lock. “I would imagine that-”

“Objection!”

“Greeeat,” thought Phoenix, as all eyes went to Hammond.

“You’re one to talk about imagination. She did not hear the police breaking in because it was Mister Shields who did so.”

“Now you’re adding breaking and entry to his list of crimes? Where’s your proof?”

“You’ve already established it for me.”

“Mister Shields would have a set of keys to the office, he’s one of two people who work there.”

“Then the accomplice-”

“This again? You have no-”

“Proof? On the contrary. All the evidence points to Shields committing the crime: he was found at the scene, passed out from blood loss, but with the start of a ransom letter in hand. The only thing which contradicts this is the time of the kidnapping. Therefore, an accomplice must be a part of the equation.”

“...Not if someone was trying to frame him.”

The time of the abduction was a major conflict in the case. And Phoenix knew there would be other contradictions, once all the evidence came to light. So why was Hammond still angling for the automatism defence? He could have switched back at this point, instead of pressing on, insisting that Ray had done it.

But there was at least one thing Phoenix agreed with.

Ray wasn’t the one who broke into the office.

“My, you’ve gone rather quiet, Wright. Don’t you have anything to say for yourself?”

Phoenix spoke up before Prosecutor Faraday could step on him.

“Before I have Miss von Karma open up to cross-examination again, I would like to ask her something.”

“Make your question worthwhile,” she said. “Prove to this farce that Shields is guilty! Or I shall be forced to do it for you!”

“Miss von Karma, you said that your father owns a taser. But have you ever seen him use it before?”

“How else would I know that he owned one? It’s not something that you blatantly advertise.”

“I fail to see the relevance here,” drawled Hammond. “Your Honour-”

“You will in a moment,” Phoenix shot back. “Miss von Karma, what happens when someone is tased?”

“They lose control of their body and tend to-” she rose a curious eyebrow. “Fall over.”

“What else do you know about tasers?”

“Flying tasers are typically designed with electrodes as well. They contain an identification system of paper tabs, which are released when the current is fired. Victims often believe they’ve experienced a physical blow, symptoms afterwards include-” she felt her neck again. “Burn marks, tenderness in the area of application.”

“Your Honour, if you check the back of the victim’s neck, I think you’ll find just that.”

Chaos chorused through the room yet again. By the time it settled, Franziska had been looked over, and verified that there were marks, and that they were the faint patterns that a taser would leave behind.

“And if we search Mister Shields as well, I’m sure he’ll have the exact same wounds.”

“Objection! My client was already checked over by medical professionals. They would have reported if marks were found. In addition to that, he cannot be brought into court because of-”

“Objection! I have proof that he was tased.” 

“Oh really?” he sneered back.

“Yes really! Take that!”

Phoenix jabbed a finger at the parking lot picture. In two distinct places, there were papery shreds of what he originally thought was confetti. Franziska hac cleared that up for him though.

“Miss von Karma, what do those bits of paper on the ground look like to you?”

“Tabs from a taser’s identification system.”

“Your Honour, I think it is probable that Mister Shields was attacked as well. But the only way to verify this is to check him!”

“Mister Wright has a point,” the judge nodded. “I will send a summonses for Mister Shields to appear in court.”

Hammond’s slower pace of talking picked up slightly.

“That isn’t necessary, we can have them disprove it at the clinic-”

“I’m afraid that I find it necessary. We’ll have a recess until Mister Shields has arrived.”

The moment they were out, Franziska’s assault of pens resumed.

“What are you doing?! Do you want that no-good kidnapping defence attorney to get off?”

“Yes I mean- n-no- I mean- Hammond’s obviously hiding something!” Phoenix put some distance between them. Prosecutor Faraday took up the job of retrieving pens for Franziska without even being asked. He seemed happier to do that, rather than involve himself in what was going to be a sticky conversation. “He was blocking Ray from going to the stand for a reason.”

“Ray?”

“Haha, um, what?”

“You- you officious, snivelling HEDGEHOG!”

“That’s a new one.”

“I thought it was incompetence, but you really are trying to lose this case!”

“Mister Faraday, help!”

Franziska’s expression twisted into one of pure fury. No crawling mentor or case file could protect Phoenix from her anger.

“I’ll have you disbarred for this Phoenix Wright! If you lose this case I’ll- I’ll-”

“That’s enough.”

Prosecutor Faraday separated Franziska from Phoenix’s lapels. Phoenix was dizzy from being shaken up. The lobby was swirling around him in a blend of white and brown. There were two Franziskas, then five, before merging back to three. Phoenix fell on the couch, just thankful that he was able to breathe again.

“No it is not! I will have both of your disbarred, trying to obstruct justice like this!”

Suddenly, the man drew up to his full height. He regarded Franziska sternly, giving a look which Phoenix had privately dubbed “the parent expression.” Mr. Edgeworth and Detective Badd were always making the same face at him.

“I understand that this must have been very traumatic for you. But it is our job to seek the truth.”

“The truth,” she scoffed. “Is that what the imperfect settle for? A flawed, made-up reality?”

“Would you want an innocent to be convicted, while the true culprit is free to try again?”

“Hmph.”

“I have a daughter close to your age. If that man went free, he could just as easily target the family of another prosecutor. Do you think I, or any lawyer for that matter, would want to lose this case if it put their family at risk?”

“...Papa said he had more important cases to prosecute than this one.”

Well, he could certainly relate to that feeling. His parents hadn’t even come when Dahlia framed him for murder. They had “better things” to do.

“I guess, it would be terrifying to her, thinking that the culprit was going to get away.”

“Do you um, have any siblings?” Phoenix softly asked, trying to push himself into the conversation again.

“A sister,” Franziska answered, weary. “She’s far older than me.”

“Ray’s kind of like- geeze this is embarrassing to say out loud- my older brother. I’m here trying to prove the truth, that there’s no way he would have done this.”

The colour of anger was beginning to seep from her cheeks. She gave a grudging nod, as they came to a detente.

“Well, you’d best see to it then that you don’t end up brotherless and badgeless.”

“Eeep! Way to put on the pressure there!”

“Fortunately, you have perfection on your side. I will not let the culprit of this case escape!”

“We won’t,” Faraday corrected.

“Stop your attempt at a fatherly hand patting my shoulder this instant.”

“Sorry.”

“Order, order!”

The judge used his gavel until everyone was settled. Ray was slumped at the stand, leaning against it heavily with one arm. The brim of his had concealed his eyes, but a tiny smirk played his lips for a moment. Phoenix’s heart swelled, as he got the message.

“Good job getting me here Nick. You can do this.”

Hammond was hardly warm and fuzzy by comparison. He looked like he’d been eating sour candies, a tight grimace was set across his face now.

“Don’t get too confident yet,” Prosecutor Faraday chided, swatting his hair. “He’s going to fight like crazy to stop Ray from speaking.”

“Has it been found that Mister Shields was tased?” asked the judge.

“Yes, Your Honour,” Phoenix replied, bobbing his head. “He and Miss von Karma share similar markings.”

“That is quite important. But what does this mean about the case so far?”

“A good question. Which is why I would like Mister Shields to testify about-”

“Objection!”

“He didn’t even let me finish!”

“Is there an issue Mister Hammond?”

“Ayup. I was never given a chance to cross-examine Miss von Karma.”

“We can come back to her if you feel it’s necessary after Mister Shields gives his testimony,” Phoenix insisted. “But this new information is crucial to the case.”

“This is a violation of rights.”

“And it still is if I am not given the chance to examine your client.”

“Enough,” the judge interrupted. “I’m just as curious to hear what Mister Shields has to say for himself. Mister Wright, you may begin your examination.”

“Right,” Phoenix rested his palms on the table, focusing his gaze on Ray. “Mister Shields, can you describe how you sustained your injuries?”

“Objection! Asking my client to testify about such a thing would be traumatizing and detrimental to his mental health.”

“You didn’t seem to have any trouble when I was asking Miss von Karma about her injuries, and she was the victim in this situation!”

“I think… I can manage…” Ray mumbled, sarcastic.

At this point, Ray could have insisted to the judge that he wanted to fire Hammond. As it was his right, it would have been accepted, no matter how many “unfit thinking” excuses the attorney tried to make. But Hammond needed to be here, they both knew that now.

“Tell us about how you sustained your injuries.”

“Just as I was exiting the detention center, I was physically attacked from behind. It seriously felt like a truck had run into me, I was-”

“Objection!”

“What now Mister Hammond?”

“From this testimony, it is clear that my client cannot remember the facts coherently. We have already established that he slipped before entering the detention center. Along with this, if he really had been attacked, something would have been said to the officers at the detention center.”

“We established that?” his eyebrows rose in surprise. “Oh, I see, Mister Shields is still in a state where he is dazed.”

Phoenix wanted to groan in annoyance.

“No you don’t see! He’s been making all of that accomplice stuff up!”

“With all due respect Your Honour, I’m pretty sure I remember what happened to me,” Ray said. “You don’t have any proof that I slipped, or that it was before I went into the detention center.”

“You were running, there was ice!” Hammond protested. The dark colour almost seemed to leech from his poorly-dyed hair.

“No, there was salt,” Phoenix corrected. “Mister Shields, please give us as much detail as you can about the assault!”

“Objection! Do you even know what your job is right now? It’s not to prove that Mister Shields committed the crime, it’s to show that he wasn’t in an automatic state!”

“This trial has been taking perplexing turns,” the judge gravely said. “Prosecutor Faraday, your student hasn’t been doing a very good job of disproving automatism thus far. In fact, I’m beginning to think that the definition he gave me earlier was a lucky guess. If he does not improve, I will have to ask you to take over the case.”

Phoenix wanted to sob at this. Why did everyone in this courtroom seem to hate him? He was a perfectly good lawyer!

“I understand,” Prosecutor Faraday said, concealing a laugh. “I will do my best to make sure that my student remains on track.”

Things were going to be trickier then. He would have to pick and choose carefully. Otherwise, he would be shut down.

“Mister Shields, what caused the injury to your head?”

“It felt like a physical blow.”

“I’m afraid you’ll have to be a bit more specific than that,” Phoenix said, trying to use as much skepticism as he could. “Was it a punch or a kick? How do we know you didn’t slip hitting your head?”

Ray crossed his arms as he thought.

“It definitely wasn’t someone’s fist.”

“You mean something like this?”

Phoenix waved around his fake attorney’s badge to show the court. He didn’t realize he was holding the wrong piece of evidence until people started laughing at him.

“Mister Wright?”

“Uh, yes, Your Honour?”

“Penalty.”

“Yes, Your Honour.”

“Resume asking something productive, Mister Wright.”

“How do you know it wasn’t someone’s fist? How many times have you been punched in the head in your life?”

“I seem to recall a hyper little kid doing it to me once,” Ray accusingly replied. “He looked a lot like you.”

“Ray’s still holding that against me? I said sorry!”

“Anyway, it was a lot heavier than that, had some weight to it. And the thing had really sharp corners.”

“Heavy? Sharp corners? Could it be?”

Phoenix carefully sorted through the court record. There were the crime scene photos, Ray’s forged letter of permission, and the fake beginning of a ransom note. Franziska’s whip was out of the question, even if it could have caused Ray a lot of pain. The taser hadn’t cause a head wound, which left him with a few more choices. Having narrowed things down, Phoenix now knew what that was.

“Something heavy, with corners, right? Maybe like this statue?”

It was time to cauterize the rotted lies being twisted in court that day, and confront the culprit.

“Yeah, but why’d you bring up that example?”

“Where did you find that?” Hammond snarled.

“You should know,” Phoenix grinned back. “It was right next to your stun gun after all.”

Shocked gasps raced through the court, but the judge did not need to use his gavel that time. Everyone was riveted to their seats, wanting to know what would become of the situation next. One could hear a pin drop. Phoenix could hear his own pulse, the blood pounding in his ears.

“And to think I criticized your lack of imagination, earlier,” laughed Hammond. “You show these photos of my office as if it is supposed to mean something. Tell us what story you have concocted. I will be your editor, pointing out the flaws in your illiterate trash.”

“I’m saying that you’re the culprit of this crime. You attacked Raymond Shields and Franziska von Karma!”

“What did I attack them with?”

“Both with the taser, and Ray with the Thinker statue on top of that! All we have to see is if the tabs at the crime scene match the taser in your office!”

“Objection! We’ve already come up to our first plot hole! How is it that I carried a taser on me? It wouldn’t have gotten past the security checks at the detention center.”

“That’s a good point. But I know he must be the perpetrator! Just like him, I’ll have to get creative, I’ll have to think.”

“Prosecutor Faraday, you’re good at sneaking around,” Phoenix said, turning to his mentor.

For some reason, the man seemed to find this amusing. But he really was good about getting around crime scenes without making too big a fuss. Phoenix had seen him nonchalantly pickpocket evidence straight from the culprit before.

“You could say that.”

“How would you get around security?”

“By not going through it of course,” he coyly said, as if such a remark was any help at all.

A barrage of pens came from above. Franziska had muscled her way through the crowd, and was sitting almost on top of their heads.

“Fools, absolute fools! Have neither of you two pushed past those dolts on a slow day? All it takes is the von Karma name!”

“Well I don’t have the von Karma name,” Phoenix hissed back, knowing everyone was watching him. “Hold on.... I don’t have the von Karma name, but Manfred von Karma does!”

“Phoenix, are you ok? You need me to ask for a recess? Here, have some water-”

“Franziska, I need you to testify again!”

“Of course. Bailiff!”

Franziska called over the bailiffs of the room. They lifted her down from the stands, so she would not have to work her way through the spectators and hallway.

“Miss von Karma will be able to answer that for you, Hammond. You can even cross-examine her afterwards, just like you wanted.”

“Hmph.”

“Mister Wright, this really isn’t responding to the automatism defence. But will it respond to the defence’s question?”

“Yes, it will Your Honour,” Phoenix told him. “Miss von Karma, you just mentioned that your father doesn’t need to go through security checkpoints, correct?”

“Most guards are too sensible to search my papa. And he never bothers with waiting in line to go through a simple metal detector,” she haughtily said. “It would be a pointless waste of his time, after all.”

“I would also like to confirm something you said to me earlier,” Phoenix went on, revealing the picture of the taser. “Does this look familiar to you?”

“Yes, my Papa has the exact model of stun gun.”

“Now look at the visitor’s log, specifically between eleven and a little past two o’clock.”

11:05 PM- DEC 24, 2016- Manfred von Karma- Sign in

01:54 AM- DEC 25, 2016- Raymond Shields- Sign in

02:00 AM- DEC 25, 2016- Robert Hammond- Sign in

02:11 AM- DEC 25, 2016- Robert Hammond- Sign out

“It would have been possible for your own father to have brought in the taser, and for Hammond to have taken it. The only security checks on the way out are for identity, not weapons!”

“Just because we both possess good choice in self-defence weapons-”

“Very good, I would say,” Franziska interrupted. “It is quite a popular make in its country of origin.”

“Country… of… origin?”

“Germany.”

“Hrk!”

“Mister Hammond, do you have anything to say in response to this?” the judge inquired, clearly stunned by this revelation.

“The letter,” Hammond growled, tearing through his court record to find it. “There! Shields was found at the scene of the crime with this right next to him!”

“You mean the same scene where someone other than Ray broke the lock?” Phoenix argued. “The same place where someone left von Karma’s whip in accessible reach?”

“Criminals… they make stupid decisions... all the time.”

“And I’d say yours was keeping the weapons you used side-by-side.”

“I-I object!”

“Not this time,” Phoenix shook his head. “Your Honour, if there is any doubt left in your mind, then have Hammond’s office searched. The statue has bloodstains which can be tested, I’m certain it will match up with Mister Shields. And we can determine if the taser is indeed the one which was fired in the parking lot by looking at the paper tabs!”

“I intend to have that done,” said the judge. “Bailiff-”

“Don’t… bother.”

“Huh?”

“What?”

For the last time, all spotlight rested upon Hammond. The cracks which had snaked their way up his calm visage were gone again. Whatever the attorney felt in that moment, the muscles of his waxen face repressed. But he couldn’t smother the glimmer in his eyes, the absolute revulsion he felt for Phoenix. In the moment, Phoenix could say the feeling was quite mutual.  

“There is no need to search…” Hammond’s gloved fingers curled into fists. “I confess.”

“You do?”

“I may have lost to this filthy attorney in a prosecutor’s clothing,” he said, as the cuffs were clipped around his wrists. “But that’s all.”

Hammond was led from the room, frogmarched by two bailiffs. Everyone took time to compose themselves. The judge shook his head, as if it would clear anything in his mind.

“Mister Wright, I do not know if you are one of more promising prosecutors I have encountered or if you just completely failed your job. Either way,  I recommend you stay under your mentor for a while yet.”

“But I finished my mentorship half a year ago!”

“Yessir.”

“Mister Shields?”

Raymond came back to the witness stand, and gave Franziska an uneasy smile.

“Yes Your Honour?”

“I hereby pronounce you…”

NOT GUILTY

Out in the lobby, Phoenix let himself fall on the couch. Standing always tired him, and he had the emotional exhaustion on top of that. It began to crash over him in waves of fatigue, claiming use of his body, of his ability to speak.

“Well,” Prosecutor Faraday said, perching on the arm of the couch. “That was certainly an experience.”

“Wha-?”

“Time is it?”

He nodded feebly.

“Three. Still plenty of time to visit Gregory and investigate for his case tomorrow.”

God, he didn’t even have the letter of permission for that yet.

Just as he was about to close his eyes, the whistling of pens soaring through the air returned. Phoenix turned over, so most hit his back. The jabs still hurt, but at least he wasn’t blinded. Phoenix sat up, so he could face her properly.

“Oh, um, hey there.”

“That was an interesting display of logic,” Franziska said, squeezing her arm. “It was fortunate you had me there to save the day.”

“You? I was the one who did all the rest of the thinking!”

“At least you had a hand in putting him away,” Faraday smoothly remarked. This prevented Phoenix from saying just what was on his mind. “I hear that it’s good for closure.”

“As someone who is perfect, I do not need to worry about such trivial things. Actually-”

“Actually?” he echoed.

“Don’t interrupt me.”

“But you weren’t saying anything!”

“There is one thing which bothers me. Papa would never wish to associate with a defence attorney, and there was no chance of Hammond stealing the taser from him, either. So how did he receive it?”

That was a good question, one of a few which remained unanswered about the case. Why had Hammond used the Thinker statue to hit Ray when he also had a taser? Why had he done any of this to begin with? But they were questions for another day, another case, and Phoenix wasn’t presented an opportunity to respond.

“Hey, hey! Who wants a celebratory hug?”

Ray was already crushing Phoenix in one before he could give a proper answer. To add insult to injury, his hair was fluffed. It was just like being a little kid all over again, it was mortifying!

“Nick! You were amazing!”

“Not the hair!”

“Do you hear this?” Ray asked Franziska and Faraday. “The man saves my life and now he’s busy whining about his spikes.”

This helped defuse some of the tension.

“You shouldn’t complain. I, for one, have always wanted a brother.”

Phoenix wondered if she had meant to say the latter part aloud.

“Franziska… It’s easy to forget that she’s just a teenager when she’s throwing around pens and yelling at me. But she must’ve lived a pretty lonely life. Even her father isn’t here now…”

Franziska closed her eyes, and then took a steadying breath.

“I know what you’re thinking, Phoenix Wright. Your sentimental thought process is deceptively simple.”

“Ah!”

Then Franziska smiled- with him? At him?- and opened her eyes.

“Farewell.”

The trio watched as she left, head held proudly aloft.

“Man, what a day,” Ray sighed. “And it’s barely even over.”

“Ray, did you get a letter of permission?”

“No, did you?”

“No. I thought Mister Edgeworth used his call to ask you to come to the detention center.”

“...Ah.”

“Ray?”

“Hey um, Nick,” he gestured to his bandages. “Hammond was a crook and all who I am definitely not paying, but the diagnosis wasn’t a lie. I’m supposed to be at the clinic getting bed rest right now.”

“You can’t bail on us! I don’t know how to defend!”

“I’ll be there for court, don’t worry. It’s just, running around after serious blood loss and bright lights kinda’, make me want to throw up everywhere. Even now I sorta’- urk!”

“Ack!”

Phoenix backed away. Ray steadied himself on the edge of the couch.

“Nick, you know I care about this just as you. But the painkillers are wearing off, and I can’t think coherently on them anyway. Visit me in the clinic though, I might be able to help puzzle some stuff out.”

“Ok,” he sighed, defeated. “See you around.”

“See ya’.”

Ray tottered off, his footing unsteady.

“And then there were two.”

Just as Phoenix said this, Prosecutor Faraday- who had been strangely quiet until then- held up a page.

“Here.”

“What's this?”

“Oh I just took Hammond’s letter of permission, got rid of the old names, then forged yours and Gregory’s.”

The letter was a default contract, typed. All that had to be switched around was the names on the lines.

“Just,” Phoenix thought, looking at the neat imitation. “‘Just’ is all he says.”

“When did you learn how to copy Mister Edgeworth’s signature?”

“Oh you pick these things up as you get older,” he said, dismissive. “And I mean, since you’re not getting paid for doing a case that was under my name, this is fair trade.”

“Wait, what do you mean I’m not getting-”

“Ta!”

Phoenix sighed, looking at the page, and then the third-floor window his mentor had just climbed out of.

“Well, I’m a step closer to saving Mister Edgeworth.”

To be continued…

Chapter Text

Once he got out of court, Phoenix decided to try his luck at the detention center again. He had the false letter of permission, but that didn’t mean Mr. Edgeworth wouldn’t fire him and Ray the moment they stepped in court. Or worse, flat-out tell the judge that he wasn’t even a defence attorney to begin with. The forged letter would give him the power to investigate, but he really needed the man’s permission too.

Detective Badd was in the parking lot with two other officers, supervising the collection of evidence.

“Nice job in there,” he greeted, not taking his eyes off the bloody pavement.

“Thanks. The judge thinks otherwise,” Phoenix replied. With little time to spare, Phoenix cut straight to the chase. “How come you didn’t notice what the papers were? You’re a detective.”

“You see ‘em around prisons… a lot… And I had other things on the brain…”

“I don’t suppose it was something helpful to Mister Edgeworth’s case?”

“...Not, helpful, at least.”

“You never know.”

Badd didn’t say anything. Phoenix tried everything under the sun to cajole the detective in to opening up, but it wasn’t working. It didn’t help that Badd actually knew the tactics of interrogation, and how to deflect them. Phoenix accepted that he was wasting his time, and went to the visitor’s room.

As Phoenix was “randomly selected” by security (they always seemed to think that his hair was a weapon, always!) he better understood why von Karma did not want to put up with the routine. Not only was it long, there were only so many times he could be growled at by the drug-sniffer dog before he got impatient. He was taken to a side hallway, where he went through the usual steps. Phoenix kept himself entertained by giving the decorative plants their own names. The money tree could be Veronica, the thick hedge with some broken branches Henrietta…

Once cleared, he went on his way. Mr. Edgeworth gave the most sugar-coated variant of “why the hell are you back here” Phoenix had ever heard.

“I got Ray off of the charge,” Phoenix said, deciding the man should know that first. “He’s recovering in the hospital now.”

“Did you find the true culprit?”

“Yeah, it was his attorney, Robert Hammond.”

His eyebrows rose in recognition of the name.

“...Ah.”

“Do you know him?”

“All local attorneys know each other Phoenix.”

“Any idea why he tried to frame Ray then?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

The blatant lie shattered what little pretense there was of a normal conversation. He couldn’t ignore the thing which was burning a hole in his pocket, not for long anyway. With a composing inhale, Phoenix took out the fake attorney’s badge.

“Let Ray and I defend you.”

Mr. Edgeworth regarded the badge, expression never changing. Then he tilted his head, so his eyes couldn’t be seen. The gold sheen of it caught in the lenses of his glasses, the only thing which seemed to move under the sickly fluorescent lights.

“What happened to hating liars?”

Phoenix let go of the breath he didn’t realize he was holding.  

“Please.”

“I’m not having this conversation with you again Phoenix.”

“Please!”

“...”

Nowhere still. Phoenix didn’t want to give up, he had already done so when talking with Badd, but he needed to investigate while he still had the time.

 The sun was falling behind the horizon when he got out of the detention center. When Phoenix got to Gourd Lake, the detective was not anywhere in sight. This made his letter useless for the time being. In fact, there appeared to be no one around the lake that late in the afternoon. There was a stand of some kind, and the rainbow of Christmas lights had been turned on. Phoenix decided to go there first, figuring there might be someone manning the place.

“NIIICK!”

Something red-and-white slammed into him from behind, almost knocking Phoenix to the ground. He might have panicked, wanting to fight off the bearded stranger, if not for the muffled voice behind the Santa beard.

“Larry?” Phoenix asked, squirming his way out of the hug. “What are you doing here?”

“Don’t you mean merry Christmas? Where’s my present?”

“I’m working Larry.”

“Working, at a time like this?” Larry asked, pulling off his hat. “Oh man that sucks. I figured your parents would want you over for dinner and stuff.”

“That reminds me, I’m pretty sure they did! I better not check my texts for a while.”

“Aren’t you working too?” Phoenix asked, pointedly looking at his uniform.

“Yeah but, well,” Larry said, grin continuing to sink. “That reminds me! Here!”

From… somewhere, Larry took out a hastily-wrapped present. Now Phoenix actually felt guilty, for not having anything on hand to give his friend. Whatever it was, it weighed a lot. Phoenix sat down at a nearby picnic table. His feet appreciated the rest, after running from court to the detention center to Gourd Lake. Peeling back the layers of tissue paper, Phoenix saw that it was…

“Larry, how did you get your hands on this?”

The Thinker should have been in evidence storage by now, not in the hands of Larry.

“I made it myself!” Larry announced, swelling with pride. “You’ve got one of only three in the world!”

“Three?”

“I was going to give it to Kiance,” he sighed. “But we’re kind of on the off and off right now.”

“This really is a regiftable gift,” Phoenix thought, remembering what the attorney had told him about the other statue. “It makes sense that Larry would be the one to give it to me.”

“Uh, thank-you?”

“So you’re working here now Nick? You gonna’ get into the Gourdy industry as well?”

“The what now?”

“Gourdy,” Larry slid a trashy magazine towards him. On one side of the cover there was a strange silhouetted photo. “The lake monster Nick! Tons of people have been here, buying Samurai dogs and bait.”

“Samurai dogs? Bait?”

“I’m selling the dogs,” Larry said, pointing to his food stand. “The guy who lived in that boat rental place was making bait.”

There was a new-looking sign tacked to the little building. The fishy smell was noticeable from where they sat, but Phoenix now saw the dribbles of red, draining from the sand into the water. Bits of fish- chum- were by the rocks.

“People are seriously buying that stuff?” he asked, wrinkling his nose.

“It’s to attract the lake monster.”

“It seems more like a scam if you ask me.”

“I know right? It’s been putting people off eating Samurai dogs, so I’m stuck with a buncha’ them now. Want one?”

When was the last time he had eaten? Phoenix thought, and remembered the terrible black coffee which the attorney had given him. It was so bitter that he had left it in the end, after only finishing half.

“Yeah, thanks Larry.”

His friend reached over the counter and grabbed two.

“That’ll be fifty bucks.”

“F-fifty?” Phoenix asked, choking on his hot dog.

“That’s how much I’ve lost in profits.”

“I’m not even going to be paid for Ray’s case and now Larry wants me to give him money for the world’s most expensive hot dog?!”

“How about I pay you in the form of a Christmas gift?” Phoenix asked.

“Yeah, I guess you can do that too.”

They were quiet for a bit, munching the cheap processed meat and excessive ketchup. The bun was at least warm, which was nice when they were sitting down during winter.

“Larry,” he said, through bites of food. “Did you hear about the murder here?”

“Oh yeah,” he nodded. “The old man who runs the boat rental shop was found floating in the lake some time this morning.”

“You know Mister Edgeworth?”

“Geeze, there’s a name I haven’t heard in a long time. And on today of all days, too.”

“He’s the accused.”

“Nick,” Larry swallowed hard. “Don’t tell me you’re prosecuting Edgey’s dad. That guy’s a saint!”

“I’m trying to prove that he didn’t do it.”

“Huh, but you’re a- wait, you mean you could have defended me when Cindy died this entire time?!” Larry yelled, indignant.

“What? N-no! That’s why I recommended Miss Fey to you!”

“Alright,” Larry crossed his arms, frowning. “I’m willing to accept your excuse for now. But your Christmas present better be extra-great, you hear me?”

“Yes Larry,” he exasperatedly said. “Do you know anything else about the murder?”

“Just that the old guy was shot.”

“I’m going to investigate around the lake some more,” Phoenix said, brushing the crumbs off his coat. “I guess I’ll see ya’.”

“I can hang with you for a bit,” Larry shrugged, standing as well. “No one’s going to buy hotdogs with all those fish guts everywhere.”

“Yeah, it really is unappetizing.”

Having Larry around while he investigated made Phoenix doubt he would accomplish anything. Larry was bound to tangle himself in some kind of trouble, or worse- destroy evidence. But he couldn’t stop Larry from tailing after him. Phoenix gave a helpless shrug and started walking.

His first destination was the wooded area. A tent was set up on the shore, along with what appeared to be camera equipment. Almost immediately, Larry started to become fidgety.

“Hey Nick?”

“Yes Larry?” Phoenix sighed, as he inspected the cameras. “This stuff looks expensive.”

“I forgot to show you, but check out the bottom of your Christmas present.”

Phoenix obliged, taking out the strange gift. It was better to indulge, than listen to his friend whine while he worked.  

“The what?”

Larry pried it back from his hands, and then showed him the interior of the base. In the cavity where there should have been clockwork, there was a Christmas popper.

“Tada! I originally had a pretty sweet necklace in there for Kiance, but…”

“It’s, great.”

Larry plucked out the popper.

“You wanna pull or should I do it?”

“Go ahead,” Phoenix replied, leaning closer to the camera lense. “Could the owner of these have-?”

“This doesn’t count as me owing you a new present,” Larry hastily added, before tugging the string.

There was a sharp crack. The flash of white had Phoenix instinctively ducking. His job meant had come to associate both stimuli with firearms. Painful dots were peppered across his vision, and when he closed his eyes, he saw red. As his eyes were recovering, someone came running out of the tent. The woman shoved him out of the way to see the camera, and began swearing.

“Look at what you’ve done! All that memory completely wasted on two dumb ‘uns honeymooning in front of the lake!”

“S-sorry,” Phoenix apologized, since the cause of it likely wouldn’t. Larry had fled at the first sign of trouble. Probably back to his hotdog stand.

The woman continued to grumble, and she fooled around with the memory cards of her cameras. She had a temper to match the colour of her curly hair.  

“Er, ah-”

“Unless it’s more important than what I’m doin’ right now, save it.”

“I’m here investigating a murder. It happened last night, on the lake.”

“Ooh,” she said, turning towards him. “Now that sounds like somethin’ interestin’. What do you know so far?”

“Just um, that a man was killed, on a boat.”

“Well I’ve been here watching the lake for three days now, and lemme’ tell you, I’ve seen a lot of boats.”

“So you’re ah, a photographer right? You’ve got this fancy camera equipment setup and-”

“Yup!” she replied, smacking her lips on the P. “I’m a student photographer, here to take some good pictures of a meteor shower!”

“But,” Phoenix paused. The story wasn’t quite adding up there. Logically, the camera went off with the loud noise from the popper. “A meteor shower wouldn’t be making sounds to set off your camera.”

“What are you some kind of lawyer?”

“Well, yeah.”

“I-it don’t matter anyway, so- Hey! Don’t just holler ‘objection’ at me while I’m in the middle of a sentence! You’re awful ungentlemanly for a lawyer, you know that? First you don’t even ask my name- which is Lotta Hart by the way- now you’re just leapin’ in and pointin’ like a Mexican jumping bean!”

“Eep! Sorry… But, the victim was killed with a gun. If that’s the case, then you might have a picture of the crime!”

“I see what yer’ sayin’,” Lotta beamed. “I can check on my computer right now!”

Lotta pulled her camera from its tripod and brought it to her SUV. From there, she connected it to her laptop. She began typing rapidly, searching for pictures on the date in question. When Phoenix tried to lean over her shoulder to see, Lotta smacked him away.

“Watch it Lawyer-Boy. I’ve got plenty of pictures on here I don’t want the likes of you seein’.”

“I don’t even want to know what that could be,” Phoenix thought, giving her space.

After a tense minute of quiet, she yelped in excitement.

“You’re right! I’ve definitely got something here! I oughta' get some prints and take this straight to the police!”

She slammed her laptop shut before Phoenix could look again.

“Could I see them?”

“You can take a look at ‘em once I come back,” Lotta replied. “I’m headin’ out to get some copies and then give some to the police! Who know how long that will take? Maybe they’ll even want me to testify!”

“W-wait!”

“Sorry, but I’ve got a scoop to scoop!”

The woman got into her SUV and drove off. There wasn’t anything Phoenix could to do stop her.

“Well, that’s a dead end for now. I guess I should look around the rest of the lake instead.”

Phoenix turned back, walking close to the water. Small waves lapped against the shore, filled with sharp-looking chips of ice. What little, melty snow there was appeared similarly pointed. From experience, he knew that snowballs packed from that type of snow could leave cuts, due to the jagged bits of ice in them. There was plenty more blood and fishy parts. It made Phoenix feel cold inside, seeing the severed heads and visionless eyes. Why would anyone want to throw dead fish back into the lake? The smell worsened as he approached the boat rental shop.

“Hey,” Larry joined him again, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. “How’s the investigation going?”

“It’s going,” Phoenix said, no longer in the mood to entertain his friend.

Phoenix came to the dock. It shifted gently under his weight, making him feel unsteady. A glance into one of the rowboats showed a seat was streaked with rusty brown.

“Nasty isn’t it?” Larry asked. “People have been going out on the lake and just dumping fish in the hopes of catching something.”

“Gross,” he agreed.

Maybe it was the swaying of the dock, or the pungent scent, but Phoenix felt nauseous. He moved away from the place, turning his attention to the boat rental shop.

“This is where the victim lived?” Phoenix asked.

“Yeah. It’s home and work for him.”

“That’s not too unusual,” he replied, thinking of Mr. Edgeworth.

Just as Phoenix was about to try the door, there was a distant shout. Detective Gumshoe was running up to them, messy coat flapping wildly. Phoenix prepared his letter of permission, and put on his best poker face.

“This better work,” he thought.

“Nick! Cop at twelve o’clock!” Larry whispered, grabbing his arm.

“He’s a detective Larry,” Phoenix said, shaking him off.

“I get out of a meeting and this is what I have to come back to?” Gumshoe angrily asked. “How many times am I gonna have to tell you to stop sneaking around here pal?”

“I’ve got a letter of permission now.”

Phoenix wondered if the detective’s scrutiny of it was extra long, or if he was nervous about lying. Just as the first beads of sweat began to appear on his forehead, Gumshoe gave an approving nod.

“Alright then, but you better not try any funny business pal!”

Gumshoe continued to stand there, breathing heavily and watching him with a stern gaze. It didn’t look like he planned to move, so Phoenix decided to question him about the specifics of the crime.

“Detective, about the victim-”

“I can’t go telling you stuff like that pal, it’s against the rules.”

“Is it?” Phoenix asked, going for a confusion tactic. “How do you know for sure? Do you have the rule book on hand?”

“Well erm-” Gumshoe’s eyebrows knit together. “You know what they say, don’t go blabbing to defence attorneys and all that.”

“What about Larry?” Phoenix suggested, shoving his friend to the front. “He’s Santa, not a lawyer.”

“Huh? Nick?”

“Well I already know the victim lived in this boat house,” Phoenix said. “And that he was killed with a gun. So it won’t hurt if you tell him something.”

“Y-yeah!” Larry agreed. “I can give you coal if you aren’t nice!”

“They can cut my salary if I am nice,” Gumshoe countered.

“I can give you coal and a salary cut,” Larry said, waving his mittened hands.

“O-ouch! Alright pal, if that’s how you want to play it. There’s trouble because the victim’s identity is un- WAIT! You can’t do that! Christmas is almost over anyway!”

“So the victim’s identity is unknown,” Phoenix replied, rubbing his chin. “How can that be?”

“N-no, you didn’t hear that from me!”

“Nothing turned up when you sent out his photo and checked his fingerprints?”

Gumshoe sighed, looking forlornly at the ground. Phoenix felt bad for the detective, and made a mental note to see if he could recommend a salary raise in the future.

“I guess it doesn’t matter at this point, but the victim’s fingerprints are destroyed.”

“That’s possible?” Larry asked.

“You can burn or cut them off if you go deep enough in the skin. And there’s a genetic disease called adermatoglyphia which makes you born without them- but that’s extremely rare. The scar tissue which forms over is still unique though. It just won’t be in the police database if someone commits a crime after they have been printed.”

“How would you know you were looking at fingerprints on something then?” Phoenix inquired. “Wouldn’t you just assume there were smudges on whatever you powdered?”

“Hey! We detectives aren’t fools you know!”

“So, how do you do it?”

“... I don’t know,” Gumshoe admitted. “But that’s why I’m back here. We need something of the victim’s to use as a reference, to prove that he was the owner of the boat shop. There should be plenty of DNA lying around here!”

“Wouldn’t witness testimony be enough?”

“Von Karma doesn’t have- You didn’t hear that!”

“No witnesses?” Phoenix echoed. “Then his case is centered entirely around evidence...”

In a murder case, that wasn’t too unusual of a situation. Culprits of this crime above all others went through great lengths to be undetected. Still, for some reason, Phoenix found this to be strange. Was there something illogical about the lack of witnesses?

“Can we come in while you pick up the reference?”

“S’not like saying no would stop you,” Gumshoe sulked, pulling latex gloves from his trench coat. “Just try not to touch a lot ok?”

The interior of the shop was spartan, washed out. The offerings of colour came from a bucket of chum, and a tricoloured parrot. It was standing on a perch, watching them. Larry was drawn in straight away. Phoenix tailed after, because someone had to supervise Larry.

“Aw! Who’s a pretty bird?” Larry cooed. “Polly want a cracker?”

“Polly!” the bird squawked.

“N-Nick! Her name’s actually Polly!”

“Polly!” she mimicked.

“Oh man, all I have are these Samurai dogs,” Larry replied. “Maybe she’d eat some of the buns if I crumbled it up?”

“Even the parrot isn’t safe from his attempts at womanizing!”

Sensing that Larry was safe for the time being, Phoenix did a better sweep of the room. The kitchenette was unremarkable, as was the rest of the furniture in the place. The safe was probably where the owner kept his money from boat rentals. There was a fishing rod, which explained how the man had been getting lake fish for his Gourdy bait. Detective Gumshoe bagged a pillowcase, and the dirty kitchen knife sitting in the sink. A second bucket filled with brownish water sat in the corner, probably left over from cleaning the bloody fish.  

“You should swab the buttons on the TV as well,” Phoenix suggested. “He’d of had to have touched those.”

“You’re not a prosecutor, don’t tell me how to do my job.”

“Sorry,” he winced. “It must be a habit now. I don’t know how Mister Edgeworth and Ray can put up with investigating like this.”

Gumshoe went to the TV anyway.

“Poor Gumshoe. He’s probably put out after all the trouble Larry and I have caused him,” then Phoenix turned to check on Larry. “Uh oh, looks like Kiance’s been replaced.”

Polly was happily sitting on Larry’s shoulder now, accepting the palm of bread crumbs offered to her.

“Do you think I could train her to tell people to buy Samurai dogs?” Larry asked, grinning. “It’d be marketing genius!”

“You can’t just steal the parrot!”

“Well who’s going to take care of Polly?” he argued. “See how hungry she is?”

Phoenix highly doubted there was anything nutritious in the bun that the parrot was eating, but she likely hadn’t been fed for over a day.

“You’d better get her some fruits and bird seed then pal.”

“Detective, you’re not going to stop him?”  

“He’s not a cop, Nick,” Larry snootily replied.

“I was the one who told you that!”

“Just take good care of her!” Gumshoe roared, jabbing a finger in Larry’s chest. “There’s nothing I hate more than people who think animals are something they can just get rid of when responsibility for them is too expensive! You research how to take care of parrots properly, you hear me?”

“Yessir!” Larry gulped.

Once Gumshoe was done picking up samples from the victim’s home, they were politely kicked out.

“Polly and I are going to start training now,” Larry said, patting her head. “We’ll be selling hotdogs if you need us.”

“I seriously doubt that I will.”

With his new evidence in tow, Phoenix thought it was high time he visited Ray. With any luck, they might be able to piece together what it all meant.

The main doctor of the Eldoon Clinic was in a word, strange. Phoenix didn’t let himself dwell upon the man’s appearance, or the strange, ramen-like quality his hair seemed to have. (Was that his hair though?) Ray was in bed, imprisoned under the heavy blankets. The blinds were drawn, and there was little light in the room, to prevent strain to his eyes. That could apparently make the damage worsen.

“I’m here,” Phoenix said, minding to keep his voice low.

“Hey,” the man greeted, voice hoarse.

Phoenix sat down in the visitor’s chair, giving himself another chance to rest. The back of it was uncomfortable, the cushion understuffed. But Phoenix could feel the knots of exhaustion working their way from his chest. He really was tired.

“I’ve looked at all that I could.”

“Great. What’s suspicious so far?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing,” he confirmed.

“Nothing comes from nothing you know.”

Phoenix wondered if his time in the hospital had been like this for Ray. He was helpless to do anything, but it didn’t change the fact that Ray was bruised and concussed. Mr. Edgeworth was still falsely accused and not really talking to him.

“There’s one lady who thinks she might have pictures of the crime, but other than that, I can’t find anything out of the ordinary,” Phoenix said, running fingers through his thick hair. “And I have no idea what’s in them because she wouldn’t let me see them.”

“That’s it?”

Phoenix dug his nails into his scalp, to keep himself from screaming the despair he felt, the panic. Things had been fine when he was walking around Gourd Lake and snooping in the victim’s house, but now it wasn’t. He needed to be doing more, there still wasn’t enough proof to show anything was wrong.

“I don’t know if I’m just b-bad at investigating as a defence attorney, or if there’s no other evidence b-because-”

The man’s response was swift and laced with warning.

“Don’t even say it Nick.”

“T-there’s nothing, Ray, nothing. I don’t even know how the prosecution’s built a case because I can’t find anything important!”

“It’s ok, just review what you know so far.”

“The victim’s identity is unknown, but they know he was the owner of a boat rental shop. He died sometime near midnight, he was shot somewhere while on a boat.”

“Huh.”

That was his way of stating he had no clue what any of the information meant, either.

“Ray, what would Mister Edgeworth’s motive even be?”

“He didn’t do it,” Ray firmly said.

“But what do you think the prosecution is going to imply?”

“Motive doesn’t have to be proved you know. Just that he did it.”

That reminded him… Phoenix took a steadying breath, but he could not loosen the grip his fingers seemed to have on his head.

“About Hammond-”

“What a creep, eh?” Ray interrupted. “Really lives up to his reputation.”

“Yeah, I was warned and I still wasn’t prepared.”

“Who warned you?”

“A lawyer he worked with. How did you know about him?”

“All of us attorneys do,” Ray hastily dismissed, with the same excuse as his boss. “He gave defence the ultimate bad name after all. I bet you’ll be quite popular with us for the next while.”

“Any idea why he would frame you?”

“Nope.”

“Liar.”

“Come back with evidence that I am, Nick.”

“Ray-”

The man gave a fake snore, effectively stopping the conversation. It didn’t help that a nurse ushered him out when he tried to keep talking with Ray. Allegedly he shouldn’t disturb the man’s rest if he wanted to get better, but that wasn’t helping.

“I’ve had it up to here with this! First Mister Edgeworth, then Badd, now Ray isn’t talking! I guess that means, logically, they’re all hiding the same thing from me, doesn’t it?”

The only thing Ray had said of value to him was that he would be popular with other attorneys. If that was true, then the lawyers at the Grossberg firm wouldn’t be nearly as uncooperative.

The attorney he had talked with before (Phoenix still did not know his name) was fortunately at the office when he arrived. The man was surrounded with cardboard boxes, and seemed disgruntled about something. His back was turned to Phoenix when he entered.

“We’re not taking cases right now.”

“It’s uh, me.”

He glanced over his shoulder, and then stopped what he was doing.

“You again?”

“Yup.”

“How’d the truth work out for you? Bitter?”

“Interesting,” Phoenix settled for answering. “Interesting. Are you um, packing his things?”

The door to Hammond’s office was fully open. Phoenix could see that the shelves were barren, and the desk cleared of the items which had rested upon it before.

“Some way to spend my holiday, right?” he scoffed. “What are you doing back here?”

“I wanted to ask more about Hammond, any enemies he might have made.”

“That’s a long list you know,” he replied, tousling his hair. “I couldn’t help you there.”

“I mean people who Hammond didn’t like, not the other way around.”

“Still can’t help with that. I try not to engage in workplace gossip. That’s one of my rules. My boss might have the answers you’re looking for.”

“Is he coming back soon?”

“You’ll just have to join me in waiting.”

“Waiting?”

“For Grossberg. But if you’re going to stick around, do a favour to help a lonely fella’ out.”

“F-favour?” he blushed.

“Make yourself useful,” he answered, pointing to a box.  

Phoenix was relegated to empty out the closet in his office. There were spare work clothes, resembling what Hammond had worn in court. Phoenix also discovered a duotang of old news clippings. They were faded with age, but still smelled faintly of ink. All of them had to do with his legal victories.

“Self-centered much? The guy has serious ego problems. If his expensive clothes and attitude didn’t give it away already.”

Phoenix did find one raggedy pair of pants and hole-filled sweater. They were coincidentally the only things which weren’t black. They were just as unstylish as everything else he kept at work.

“Ah-HHHHEM,” said a voice from the next room. “Diego who is this young man?”

“He’s interested in talking about Hammond.”

“Oh my. I’m not so sure if that would be good for the office reputation at the moment-”

“I-I was the one who realized he was the culprit,” Phoenix interjected, standing up. “I promise this isn’t going to a newspaper or something.”

Grossberg was a rotund, greying man. His suit was carrot-coloured, and a bushy mustache seemed to cover his mouth.

“Why are you wearing an attorney’s badge?” Grossberg asked, peering over the rims of his glasses. “I was under the impression it was a prosecutor who caught the man.”

“A-ah-” Phoenix could feel his face heat up again. “It’s a bit of a story.”

“So long as it isn’t being publicized, I suppose it’s fine.”

“I need to know, is there anyone that Hammond doesn’t like?”

“Hrm,” Grossberg said, clearing his throat. “People who have complained to him about his methods, for one. And I imagine, even though he never discussed it, there was the man from that case.”

“The man? That case?”

“It was a long time ago. Ahh... the days of my youth... like the scent of fresh lemon you see. I’m sure old wounds could have healed since then-”

“Unlikely,” snorted his employee.  

“Y-yes well-”

“Mister Grossberg, please, who did the case involve?”

The lawyer sighed, and then nodded sadly. Phoenix could feel himself tense involuntarily, with the first words of his story.

“There was a murder, fifteen years ago today in fact. You would have only been a child I daresay.”

“I would have been eight.”

“An attorney-”

“Mister Edgeworth.”

“-lost his son-”

"Miles.”

“-as a result of that. It was obvious who the culprit was. There could have only been one murderer, but Hammond took the case and-”

“The killer got away.”

“Hardly,” Grossberg shook his head. “The defence of insanity destroyed the the man’s life worse than any jail sentence could. He lost his job as a bailiff, his fiancé committed suicide, and he became a social pariah. In the end you could say, he still received the death penalty, even without being convicted. He ah, decided that the only way out was-”

Grossberg started to fumble over his words, mustache twitching. It didn’t matter to Phoenix. He knew this part of the story already. Out of respect, he had never actively sought the details of that case. Bits and pieces had come to his attention over the years, anyway. The attorney- Diego was his name- had filled in some of his gaps of knowledge.

“That doesn’t explain why Hammond hates him though.”

“I was getting to that. As you know, defence attorneys have a strict set of guidelines when it comes to the treatment of our clients; Confidentiality, situations of disclosure, all that and such. Violating these rules can see you taken before the Bar Association. The father was left with no one else to target in his grief. Thus, he argued to the panel that Hammond should be prohibited from practicing law, due to the improper way in which he secured a not guilty verdict. Knowing Hammond’s choices directly resulted in the suicide of his client, and sympathizing with the father, his appeal succeeded.”

“Mister Edgeworth… Would he have done that?”

Had that come to pass, during the days he was wandering through the cold alone, and coping with his loss?

“Hammond was permitted to retake the bar after a few years, which he did.”

“And you rehired him?”

“Frankly I was afraid of what would happen if I didn’t. There had already been enough bloodshed in this tale…”

“Thank-you,” Phoenix said, bowing his head in appreciation. “I just have one last question.”

It was the only way to be sure, even if his conscience was screaming its disbelief.

“Ask away my boy.”

“If I were to look up that murder case in the police records, do you know what it would be called?”

DL-6, who would have thought I would ever hear that name again?

But there’s a connection to what I’m dealing with, I know it.

That’s what they were trying to hide from me all along.  

Just like everyone had, fifteen years in the past.

But I’m an adult now, they’re not shielding me.

Why all the confidentiality surrounding it?

Are they protecting someone else?

Chapter Text

When he entered the defence lobby, each step became a power struggle. Mr. Edgeworth’s glare worsened, the closer he got. Phoenix thought he might not be able to defy the man. Dramatically, Phoenix shielded his eyes, and was able to tolerate standing within five meters of him.

“Should I even ask why you are here when I specifically told you not to be?”

Mr. Edgeworth brought out the full disappointed parent tone with that question. Phoenix thought he would collapse, that the mercuric eyes were going to vapourize him.

“I-I know-” Phoenix steeled himself, certain that his response was going to cause more trouble. “I know this case has something to do with Hammond! That you got him disbarred, and he hates you for it!”

“Ray! You told him that?!”

Ray was quietly sitting on the couch, and had his head buried in his hands. The fluorescent lights, and movement from the clinic to the courthouse had given him a migraine. With Mr. Edgeworth’s sharp words, he yelped in surprise, and then winced, as he was reminded of the pain.

“N-no! I didn’t! I don’t know how he found out!”

“It doesn’t matter how I found out because I know now. Hammond’s probably the killer of this case too! He didn’t come to the detention center until you were arrested, he has all the motive to want to ruin you, and it’s possible that-!”

“Stop it. You have no proof.”

“But-”

“How is it you can put that together, but not the underlying message?”

“Underlying message?”

He gave an ever-suffering sigh. It made Phoenix feel like he was falling back in time. He was suddenly a child who knew nothing all over again.  

“Phoenix, why was Raymond attacked and framed?”

“To,” Phoenix stopped, dwelling upon the answers. He knew it didn’t have to do with Hammond wanting to make money off a client. It was unlikely the motive had been to cover up a secret, third crime. “Hammond, he… He despises you, right?”

“And?”

“He was using Ray to, to get to you? So there would be no one to help you?”

“What else does that mean?”

“Ah, well,” Phoenix blushed. “I’m not sure.”

“Think.”

Being talked down to like this, Phoenix wanted to lash out at the man. He wasn’t incompetent; he was a grown adult who had studied law, and was developing his skills in logic. But when he opened his mouth to yell, nothing came out.

“Why haven’t you been targeted?”

“Maybe he didn’t have the time,” Phoenix replied, irritated. “Two people was already a lot for one guy to kidnap. And at any rate, he’s in jail now, so it’s not like he can get to me.”

Mr. Edgeworth didn’t appear convinced by this. Even though the logic was clear, Phoenix could tell his argument lacked something. It wasn’t wrong. It just wasn’t persuasive, either. So, he thought longer, brushing a finger against his chin as he put the pieces together. There still were elements of the trial which had bothered him. Perhaps, if he used a bit more reasoning to put conclusions together…

“I was a part of the plan originally,” Phoenix deducted. “I must have been.”

Ray looked up at that, staring at with unfocused eyes.

“W-what?”

“There was one theory Hammond kept bringing up, even though there didn’t seem to be any proof for it.”

“The accomplice,” Ray finished, in horrified understanding. “A contradiction was set up in the times so there was no other explanation.”

“Exactly,” Phoenix brightened a little with this. He turned to the man. “There, was that what you wanted to hear? I doubt he has another plan in the wings.”

“Phoenix.”

“Yes?”

“Are you going to make me spell it out?”

“Uh-”

“Raymond has already been seriously injured. You appear to have narrowly avoided a similar fate. And if you make a single misstep in this trial, you will be disbarred, maybe even criminally charged.”

Then Mr. Edgeworth glowered in the other direction. Phoenix could see his lips moving, but no sound emanating from his throat.

“I don’t want you hurt.”

Unbidden, the angry response was spilling from him, “Two days ago, you said it yourself; I’m not your son and you’re not my father. You didn’t raise me, you’re not even my boss. So don’t go playing that ‘I know what’s best for you’ card.”

He recoiled when Phoenix turned his own vehement words against him. The glasses almost slid from his nose, and he grit his teeth, stifling his cry to a short, “Ngh!”

Phoenix’s voice wavered, filling with all the anger and rejection he had felt. The bitterness flooded his mouth like chewed aspirin when he concluded, “You’ve already made it clear that me getting hurt isn’t a concern to you.”

“Nick!” Ray scolded. “That was way outta’ line!”

“I’ve had to put up with bull from all of you for the past two days!” Phoenix snarled, rounding on him.

“Well maybe he has a point-”

“So you’re taking his side-”

“I’m trying to-”

“You always take his side Ray, he can’t do any wrong in your eyes-”

“Fine.”

Their attention whirled around to face the man. He had his back to them, to the door which the bailiff had just begun to open.

“If you want to help defend me that much, I won’t stop you.”

He passed through the doors without hesitation. Ray scrambled up from the couch to follow. Phoenix lingered behind, glancing between the court and the lobby. The bailiff made a motion for him to hurry up.

“Why does it feel like I’ve just won the battle and lost the war?

“Court is now in session for the trial of-” the judge said, just as Phoenix reached the defence table. Ray was leaning on the polished surface with one arm, grimacing at his reflection. When neither the attorney nor prosecutor answered for the judge, Phoenix realized it was up to him.

“The defense is ready, Your Honor.”

“Err, Mister von Karma? Is the prosecution ready?”

“The prosecution would like to know why a lawyer is standing on the wrong side of the room. Was it not his compatriot who received a concussion? Or is that fool lost, as well as brain dead?”

The judge squinted at Phoenix, and then his fake attorney’s badge.

“He does bear a striking resemblance to a prosecutor I saw in court the other day.”

Von Karma snapped his fingers, and glared at the judge.

“That’s because he is! ”

“Your Honour, I’m just following the advice you gave me.”

“Advice?” he asked, bewildered.

“You were the one who told me to stay under a mentor. So I have. There’s nothing in the rules against switching which side of the bench I work on.”

It was just against the rules to impersonate a defence attorney, which he was currently doing. (It took time to resign, and then receive certification for the other position. Time which he didn’t have.) One could elect not to have counsel, or have someone not qualified as a lawyer work for them, but it was strongly discouraged. In addition, what few investigation privileges Phoenix had as a fake attorney wouldn’t exist. No one would have taken him seriously, or answered his questions without the badge. People already had a hard enough time believing that he was a prosecutor!

“In that case,” the judge said, brightening up again. “I think you will do a better job! It’s good to know that you’ve finally figured out the differences between defence and prosecution.”

“Urk! I already knew… the differences…”

“Now, is the prosecution ready?”

Von Karma’s glare intensified.

“Fool,” he quietly snarled. “You seriously think that I would stand here were I not completely prepared?

“Well I sure am,” Phoenix thought, the first beads of sweat forming on his head. “He’s even got the judge scared!”

“The evidence is flawless. It speaks for itself. A detective will testify of its decisive nature. Now.”

Gumshoe scurried to the stand, eyes darting nervously between von Karma and Phoenix. The detective must have been thinking about what his paycheck was going to look like at the end of the month.

“You will start with your description of the incident.”

“The murder happened close to midnight of Christmas eve. In the very middle of the lake, there was a rowboat where the victim and killer were sitting. A woman camping on the edge of the lake heard three pistol shots around ten after.”

“Heard? If he’s referring to Lotta Hart, then that can’t be right. She said she didn’t witness anything. But, Gumshoe also let slip von Karma didn’t have any eye witnesses for his case. At least, not until she went to the police...”

“The boat moved back to the rental shop after the shots had been fired,” Gumshoe concluded. “Around the same time, an anonymous call came in, reporting the incident.”

“That line again?”

“What are the relevant details of the arrest?”

“By the time the boat arrived at the shore, the police had arrived. Seeing as the accused was the only one in it, he was arrested.”

“You will speak of the forensic evidence which proves the man’s guilt!”

“Nick!” Ray hissed out of the corner of his mouth. “Gumshoe’s been talking for ages now. Object and ask to cross-examine!”

“You’re the real attorney here. I was supposed to investigate and then take a supporting role to help you defend!”

“Fine,” Ray said. He tried to raise the volume of his voice, but it turned out breathy. “O-object- object… ion...”

“Did you hear that?” the judge asked, looking around. “I could have sworn there was the faintest voice saying something.”

Ray didn’t speak up. His palms were firmly pressed against his temples, as he tried to block out the worsening migraine yelling had caused.

“The only thing to be heard in this courtroom is the testimony of forensic evidence,” von Karma said. “Resume.”

“Y-yessir.”

“Yikes! It really looks like I’ll be the one speaking up.”

“The victim died of blood loss. He had been shot with a gun. The ballistics of the bullet matched the pistol found with the accused in the boat.”

“Members of the court, we now have the pistol used in the murder, and the bullet found in the body! Though decisive on its own, there is further proof. What else is notable about the pistol?”

“The only prints found on it belonged to the accused.”

“There you have it! If the court is not yet satisfied, there is yet another witness I may call. But that is unnecessary, because there is no other outcome but-”

“O-OBJECTION!”

“Mister Wright, please keep your voice to a lowercase level,” reprimanded the judge. “Your vocal cords aren’t made of steel after all. Now what was it that you-”

Again, von Karma snapped, quieting the judge. His glowering compared little to Mr. Edgeworth’s “I’m not angry, I’m just disappointed” expression. Phoenix was able to tough out the staredown with minimal sweating.

“Who do you think you are, having the gall to interrupt me?”

“Unless I’ve been hit in the head and gotten amnesia, I’m pretty sure I’m Phoenix Wright.”

“Wrong!”

“It’s actually spelled like the flying brothers-”

“Incorrect!” von Karma amended. “You are the trash who failed abysmally at prosecuting my daughter’s kidnapper!’

“I-I found the real culprit!”

“You let a guilty man go free, just as you intend to attempt today,” he crossed his arms, smirking. “Not that it will work, of course.”

There were mutterings from the crowd. They criticized Phoenix for being the scum of the planet, an opportunist trying to make money by turning merciless criminals out to society.

“Does everyone hate me?” he cried internally.

It certainly seemed like it. Ray followed the trend of hurting Phoenix by poking him in the ribs with his elbow. Phoenix would have retaliated if not for Ray’s previous injuries.

“He’s distracting you,” Ray warned. “Focus on your objection!”

“Y-your Honour, I haven’t gotten a chance to cross-examine the witness yet.”

“Hrm, yes, I see.”

“He doesn’t need to,” von Karma snapped.

“Unfortunately Mister von Karma, I’m inclined to disagree. Mister Wright needs all the practice he can get at this point.”

“Then get on with it! Stop wasting our time!”

“Right,” Phoenix leaned against the table, remembering what Gumshoe had spoken about so far. “Detective, about the state of the victim. You mentioned that he died of blood loss from the shot. Where was the wound?”

“It entered in the muscles between the victim’s neck and left shoulder. The shot was a clean and straight, so it cut through some important blood vessels. It would be treatable normally, but he wasn’t given the chance to recuperate.”

“I see. Is there anything else of note about the state of the victim?”

“Just that-”

“Objection!”

Phoenix almost jumped out of his shoes, the first time von Karma objected. His voice was deep, practically demonic. Ray shuddered a bit too.

“He was shot. There is little else about him to be concerned with.”

“What about the identity of the victim? You haven’t mentioned it once.”

“It does not matter in this situation. We can discern who the killer is without knowing the person’s identity.”

“I am a bit curious,” the judge admitted. “Was there a reason the autopsy and news reports did not yield anything?”

The judge was on his side, if only because he was taking pity. Phoenix could accept that, as long as it got him more information about the case. He could see von Karma holding back a retort.

“Speak, detective.”

“O-ok, um, well there are a number of reasons for the victim’s state. To begin with, the victim died in the lake, not the boat. The local tourists have taken to throwing in razor nets and hooks, in the hopes of catching Gourdy. It’s been very bad for the environment. People are real inconsiderate to the-”

“Get on with it.”

“R-right,” he glumly said, looking down again. “During the victim’s struggle to swim to land, he sustained lacerations to the face, neck, and hands. These disfigurements made it harder for the reconstructionists to create an accurate profile. In addition, expiring in the ice water meant he received frostbite, which blackened the skin in places. That’s actually part of how we figured out he died in the water, and not in the boat. Corpses can get frostbite, but it doesn’t come as easily, or deform skin in the same way it does if someone is living.”

“Detective, you are not here to tell us interesting biology facts!”

“Yessir “ Gumshoe said, looking sadder still. “Finally, the victim was unidentifiable because he inhaled a lot of water, so his body was a lot more bloated-”

“T-that’s quite enough!” the judge stammered, turning green. “Curiosity certainly killed the cat.”

“But satisfaction brought it back.”

“Well, are there any other pointless questions you would like to ask?” demanded von Karma.

“Of course!”

“Mister Wright, please,” the judge mumbled, pressing a hand to his beard. “Keep it within a suitable courtroom rating.”

“Which hand did the fingerprints on the pistol belong to?” Phoenix asked.

“Ha!” von Karma snapped at him. “You think there would be such an obvious contradiction in this case? That he merely picked up the gun while the so-called true killer used a different hand?”

“I was kind of hoping.”

“The prints were from Gregory Edgeworth’s left hand- his dominant one!”

“Whyyy?”

“Great going Nick,” Ray sighed.

“Why don’t you do something other than stand there Ray?” Phoenix sneered. “Oh right you’re the one who got-”

“Mister Wright,” interrupted the judge. “Are you finished with your examination at this time? I would personally like to call a recess, until my stomach is feeling a little more settled.”

What else was there to ask of Gumshoe? He had cleared some matters up, but that only made the situation appear worse. Phoenix accepted, resigned, and they filed out to the defence lobby.

Ray immediately fell on the couch, with his palms firmly pressed against his eyes. Phoenix was tempted to join Ray, but he was still angry. The recess was short, spent in dour silence. None of them spoke of the case. They watched the ceilings and the potted plants, anything to avoid looking at each other. All too soon, they were called back.

“Miss Lotta Hart will take the stand,” von Karma said, before everyone had reached their places. “Lotta Hart, you are a research student at a university?”

“Ayup!” Lotta said, placing her hands on her hips. “I was up at Gourd Lake, waitin’ for a-”

“I haven’t begun my examination yet,” he said. “But you will not add anything trivial or subjective when I do. Understand?”

“And I thought that spiked fool o’er yonder was rude,” she grumbled.

“Understand?” von Karma repeated.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t get your frills in a twist.”
“You will testify about the events you witnessed. Now.”

“I reckon it was around just at the start of Christmas day. When I was in my van I heard bangs from the direction of the lake. When I looked out the window, I saw two gents in a boat. Then there was another shot. Only those two were out on the lake.”

“You took a photo of this moment, correct?”

“Yeah, but-”

“Here!”

The picture showed the lake, wisps of mist rising from the water. In the center of the scene, there was a boat, and two figures sitting across from each other. One was pointing a gun at the other.

“I submit this as the last piece of evidence needed to show-”

They were cutting it close again. Ray wasn’t going to be of much help, Phoenix accepted that now, and took action.

“Objection!”

“You dare interrupt me a second time?”

“So long as you’re stopping me from cross-examining, I will.”

“It is your right,” the judge nodded. “But that’s no excuse for disrespecting your elders.”

“Ya Nick,” Ray chimed in. “You shouldn’t be so rude to your betters.”

“Ugh, can these people just let me get on with my examination?

The lake photo was added to the exhibits.

“Miss Hart, yesterday at the lake, you told me you were there to photograph a meteor shower.”

“Sure did!”

“Your camera was setup to automatically snap when popping sounds were heard.”

“Yessire!”

“Why?”

“What now?”

“Meteor showers are silent. What was the point in doing that? And why did you have the camera aimed at the lake instead of the sky?”

“Objection!”

For a second time, Phoenix jumped at the sound of von Karma’s objection. It was like he was lowering his tone, to deliberately scare the court. There was a noticeable scraping, as patrons sitting on the benches flinched.

“The witness never claimed to be intelligent,” von Karma waved a finger, scolding Phoenix for daring to notice a contradiction. “As someone who is a student, one would think you would understand basic slip-ups of common sense.”

“H-hey! I ain't dumb!” Lotta protested. “I’ll have you know-”

“Enough, witness. No further testimony is needed from you.”

“Lotta, if you’re not dumb, then prove it!” Phoenix shouted over the prosecutor.

“Fine!” she said, before taking a sharp breath. “According to all known laws of aviation-”

“N-no, I mean explain why your camera was set up the way it was.”

“Mph!”

Lotta clammed up. She folded her arms and looked at the stand, moodily.

“She’s already wasted enough of our time with blabbering as it is,” von Karma said. “You may go.”

“Wasted? Blabbering?” she asked, slowly but dangerously.

Phoenix sensed an opportunity to catch the woman off guard, as her anger at the court grew. If the pressure could be upped just a smidge, he was sure Lotta would say something she wasn’t supposed to.

“Lotta, as a fellow dumb student-”

“I ain’t! You’re the ones who were comin’ at me with fancy words! I know my rights! Yellin’ at me what to say, and then to not mention I couldn’t see their faces ‘cause of a bit o’ fog! Well y’aint gettin’ any more outta’ me either way!”

“I don’t think we need to hear anymore,” Phoenix triumphantly said.

This time, he was prepared for von Karma’s vehement objection.

“The defence badgered the witness into saying such, therefore, it should be stricken from the record.”

“Mister Wright, do you have any response to this?” the judge asked.

“None,” he said, grin not wavering for a moment. “I can move on to another line of questioning Your Honour.”

“Such insolence! You should be tossed from the court by the spikes of your uncouth hair!”

Ray nudged him again. Phoenix ignored his concerned mutterings. The rest of the elders he was allegedly supposed to respect could wait and have their minds blown. So long as Lotta was still ready to cooperate with him.

“Since you have not contested, Miss Hart’s last bit of testimony will be redacted.”

The court recorder nodded, and made the proper alteration to the transcript.

“There,” Phoenix said, keeping his voice calm. “It’s all behind us Miss Hart. Your last statement has been removed, can’t even be used as evidence.”

“All, alrigh’,” she sighed. “What should we talk about next?”

“Photography in general. I saw how deft you were at fixing the camera, and handling the pictures on your laptop.”

“Y-yeah. It is my area of study.”

“Just to be clear, I’m not accusing you of doctoring the photo, but how well do you understand editing software?”

“Hrm, that sounds mighty suspicious.”

“You will not testify on that matter!” von Karma insisted. “It is blatantly a trap. Anyone could see!”

“Anyone except a dumb student?” Lotta asked, raising an eyebrow. “What is it?”

“If you were to take this picture and enlarge it, would we be able to see who was in it?”

“Y’see, the problem with enlargin’ it is that-”

“I object to this question’s relevance!”

The process of objections meant that the witness was supposed to stop talking when a lawyer rose a point. That didn’t mean witnesses would follow it. In most cases, they weren’t even aware that was the case. They always felt the need to finish their sentences. This, however, was not what Lotta went on to do. Phoenix knew it was pure spite which motivated her to finish speaking.

“-when I zoomed in, the quality went down, and the fog’s still blocking.”

Phoenix hadn’t anticipated that part. He had thought they would be able to get an enlargement and show there was no possible way for her to see through the fog. That could work as proof, instead of the information he let be removed from the transcript. Instead, it appeared Lotta had already made an enlargement.

“Why haven’t you showed that to the court yet?”

“Objection!”

“Would you stop with the objections already?” Lotta asked von Karma. “The judge isn’t even botherin’ to hear you out because you’re doin’ it every other sentence!”

Phoenix didn’t know if he should sigh or laugh when the judge hid his face behind his gavel. The man was supposed to be the authority of the courtroom, but he had steadily been distancing himself from the proceedings.

“The judge doesn’t seem to have anything to say for himself,” Phoenix replied. “Anyway, Miss Hart, could you show us the enlargement?”

“Here it is.”

The photo did little to build upon the first. While the faces of the people on the boat were unclear, the flash had temporarily illuminated their hands.

“Are there any other photos you didn’t submit to the court?” Phoenix asked.

“Well, there’s a double of the first one. It shows the same deal, even zoomed in,” said Lotta. “The third one is only a shot of the lake. Nothing of interest there either, which is why I only brought the first and the enlargement.”

“Happy now, Mr. Wright?” von Karma asked, disgust dripping from his voice. He seemed to have recovered from Lotta’s blunder and rogue attitude, even if it proved she hadn’t witnessed anything.

Phoenix glanced between the pictures, wondering what the meaning behind them could be. In the enlarged boat picture, one figure had an arm extended straight ahead. The silhouette of the pistol was visible because of this.

“You asked for the enlargement, you got the enlargement. And little good it has done any of us! That's why I requested she not show it!”

“Hm,” mumbled the judge into his beard. “I suppose this means that the cross-examination-”

Cross.

“Why did that word stick out to me? Cross, cross…”

“-is over! Obviously! This is a waste of taxpayer money. End it already!”

“OBJECTION! Your Honour, there is a serious contradiction in this picture!”

“Mister Wright, what did I say about managing your voice levels?”

“Sorry,” he apologized.

“You’re beginning to push it,” the judge warned. “If your explanation is not sufficient…”

It would be a penalty. He understood.

“The gun is pointed straight ahead, correct? We can see that now, due to the enlargement.”

“Indeed it is.”

“We’ve also established that Mister Edgeworth’s left fingerprints are on the pistol, and the attacker in the picture used the same one. But the victim’s wound was on the right side. That’s not possible, when two people are sitting exactly parallel from each other like in the picture.”

“Objection! He could have- it-”

Phoenix shook his head. He had heard enough made-up possibilities from Hammond in court. He wasn’t going to listen to a single tale more. There was no other outcome. They were too close for the bullet to have swerved that drastically. It either would have hit the accused, or flown slightly above the target. The fact that there were two pictures taken seemed to support that one had missed. But it still didn’t explain why the autopsy showed the left shoulder had been hit.

“We can bring back Detective Gumshoe and have him testify about angles and firearms if that’s what it takes. But I can assure you- Mister Edgeworth wasn’t the one to fire the pistol that night!”

“If you are implying that it was a suicide,” von Karma began, grasping the side of his arm. “The autopsy showed the victim was shot from at least a meter away. In addition, there was no gunshot residue found on his palms.”

“Mister von Karma! Are you sure of the accuracy of your data!?”

“Of course! I had already considered the possibility of suicide, you see.”

“The defense has a valid point about the situation, however,” said the judge. “This leaves you with no evidence or witnesses left, Mister von Karma. Unless you can justify what has happened-”

“Then suspend the proceedings, imbecile! Adjourn court and we shall meet tomorrow, with new, decisive evidence!”

“Isn’t that what he said about the stuff we saw in court today?”

“Very well,” the judge nodded. “The court orders the defense and the prosecution to further investigate this matter. Understood?”

They gave identical nods, and proceedings were ended for the day.

Mr. Edgeworth refused to look in his direction. Ray was lost in the pain-filled world of his migraine. Phoenix wound up staring at the plants again. The branches on one shrub was broken. Closer inspection revealed that had to do with the package of swiss rolls hidden in it.

“Not a bad place to hide something. I wonder if someone will come back for it later?”

“Man, have ya’ll just been standing here awkwardly for the past five minutes?”

Lotta strode up to their miserable group.

“Hey,” Phoenix greeted, with all the enthusiasm he could fake. “What are you doing here?”

“We idiot students gotta’ stick together!” she proclaimed, slapping him on the back.

Phoenix flinched.

“Are you even really a student?”

“Well,” she frowned. “It’s sorta’ like how you’ve been through school but you’ve still got training. That’s why I was out to get a scoop!”

“Scoop. I heard her use that term before.”

What did that mean about Lotta? Was she an ice cream vendor? A journalist of some kind?

“No, don’t tell me, you’re in the Gourdy industry as well.”

“Hush your puppies!” Lotta yelled, before shushing him. “I’m undercover, don’t want to give away my secrets! Findin’ Gourdy’s real competitive you know. There’s been people out on the lake with razor nets and hooks for ages! The place is already crawlin’ with tourists and reporters, see?”

Lotta gave him a tabloid. It was from the same writers of the other magazine, which Larry had given him. Only, this one was published that day. The cover screamed about the updates on the Gourdy hunt, and even had a little blurb from Ray’s trial.

Naruhodo A. Wrighto: Most Incompetent Prosecutor Ever? See What The True Culprit of His Case Thinks of His Prosecuting Skills

“I never believed I would be happy to see that my name was spelled wrong,” Phoenix thought, flipping to the page. Hammond was being led away. If the lighting was any indication, multiple photos were being taken. The case had been higher profile than normal, due to the status of the victim’s father.

“So uh, what are you doing here again?”

“I did a bit of self-reflecting.”

“In the five minutes since court was adjourned?”

“Bein’ a witness ain’t all it’s cracked up to be. I didn’t think it was a matter of being told what and what not to say.”

“It’s not supposed to. It’s your job to tell the truth about what you saw.”

“Huh, I guess that makes sense. Just like how I’m out searchin’ for the truth of Gourdy!”

It was nothing like that. Tabloids were known for sensationalism and lying. But Phoenix wasn’t going to bring that up with the woman standing right in front of him. There had been enough pain for one day.

“Keep that in mind, the next time you decide to be a murder witness,” Phoenix suggested.

As Lotta exited stage right, Phoenix was left with two more people to talk with. He still had an investigation to go through that day. It was easiest to start when both of them were in the same room. That way, he wouldn’t have to run back and forth between the detention center and the Eldoon Clinic.

“Can you believe this?” Phoenix sighed, choosing a nonchalant voice. He approached Mr. Edgeworth and showed the tabloid. “How much do you want to bet the insult porcupine or hedgehog is somewhere in that article?”

“...You think this is funny?”

“What? No. It’s my name they’re defaming after all.”

“So you’ve resorted to mocking, then?”

“I uh,” Phoenix looked to Ray, wondering if he would be of any help. “Really don’t know what you’re talking about Sir.”

The magazine was snatched up by Mr. Edgeworth.

“The man in that photo isn’t Robert Hammond.”

Chapter Text

“The man in that photo isn’t Robert Hammond.”

Everything in Phoenix’s world froze, except for the person who had spoken the words. After a tense second, Mr. Edgeworth looked away, as if disgusted.

“B-but that’s not possible!”

“Do you think I would forget the face of that man? The look of someone who-” Mr. Edgeworth cut off, but the fifteen years of bitterness still lingered.

“No,” Phoenix said. He hung his head, ashamed. “I wouldn’t.”

But that brought up a whole new world of possibilities. The most pressing of them saw Phoenix leaving court, without asking Ray or Mr. Edgeworth anything else.

“If that wasn’t Robert Hammond, then who did I face in court?”

For a third time, Phoenix wound up running to the Grossberg Law Firm. The owner wasn’t in, but three others were. Phoenix recognized two of the group. One was the attorney who kept giving him awful black coffee- Diego. The other had been his attorney, Ms. Fey. A girl who bore a striking resemblance to her was the third.  

“There’s still nothing on my case?”

“Finding evidence has been a real trick you know.”

They abruptly looked at Phoenix when the door closed.

“Um, hey, again, I know I keep running back here, but this is really important.”

“You again?” Diego sighed in clear exasperation. “What is it?”

Phoenix gulped. He was probably starting to get on the man’s nerves, showing up what seemed like every other day. But it couldn’t be helped. With Hammond’s involvement, things kept being traced back to his office.

“This is,” Phoenix took out the magazine article. “The guy I faced in court. Is he really Hammond?”

All three of them looked. The strangely-dressed girl was the first to shake her head.

“The hair colour and the clothes are right, but that’s about it.”

“So I wasn’t actually up against him in court,” Phoenix muttered. “When was the last time you saw him?”

“After I gave the uh-” Diego sheepishly glanced at Ms. Fey. “-the early Christmas present. That was probably the last time Grossberg saw him too.”

“After you gave the Thinker Statue…” Phoenix repeated.

“Hrk!”

Phoenix tried to think about what that could mean, but he still caught snippets of the trio’s conversation.

“You presented the statue I gave you, to Hammond?”

“You regifted it as well!”

“Mister Armando, you should make it up to us!” said the girl with brown hair.

Hammond had been himself, at least up until the day before Christmas. But somehow, he had managed to take on a case and avoid his coworkers at the office. Phoenix recalled the odd pair of clothes, which didn’t match anything in his closet. Logically, that had something to do with the swap. He just didn’t know what.

“Thanks for the help,” Phoenix said. “And it was good to talk again, Miss Fey.”

The woman tilted her head, confused. Phoenix realized, even with the hair people liked to insult, she must not have remembered him.

“Would it help if I started sneezing everywhere?” he asked.

“Ah, Wright! So you really did end up becoming a lawyer.”

“No, don’t tell me she’s doubting my qualifications as well?”

“Ayup! I’m on a case right now.”

She smiled gently

“It’s good to see you’ve recovered.”

“It’s nice to be recovered,” Phoenix agreed. “Anyway, I’ve gotta’ get going now. Nice seeing you guys, and uh, meeting…”

Phoenix trailed off, waiting for the girl to tell her name. She didn’t say anything to him. Perhaps she was shy? Phoenix couldn’t help but notice the rest of the group’s smiles faded. He suddenly felt unwelcome, like he needed to leave. Then, the girl brightened up again, deciding to speak.

“Maya Fey,” she introduced. Maya shook his hand so hard that her pretzel-twist hair bobbed. “I pulled the strings around the Fey Law Office.”

Despite everyone talking about the “Gourdy Industry,” not many people were touring around Gourd Lake. It seemed like the murder and closed off sections had deterred people from coming back. Phoenix would have ignored Larry and his hot dog stand if he didn’t have to pass it to get to the victim’s home. Larry was slumped against the counter, moping until Phoenix knew he was spotted.

“NIIICK!”

“I hear you Larry,” Phoenix said under his breath, walking to his friend. “I hear you.”

“You interested in buying another dog?” Larry asked.

Polly sat on a perch, which Phoenix was fairly certain had been stolen from the victim’s house. Phoenix was also wary about the healthcode violations which came with having a pet in a cooking area, but he didn’t bring either of those things up.

“No.”

“C’mon, please? Kiance and I are already going downhill. I need some money!”

“Does she need another diamond necklace?” Phoenix skeptically asked.

“No man! I already told you this place is losing money! Plus, the Steel Samurai balloon I had before- it’s in the lake somewhere! It’s totally gone!”

“Larry, how do you lose a balloon?”

“There was a problem with the valve of the helium tank. It kinda went, BANG! And then pffffffffffffffffffffffffft! SPLASH!”

Larry’s explanation was less-than-stellar, but Phoenix got the picture. The balloon had fallen somewhere over the lake when inflating it went awry.

“That thing wasn’t cheap either! Genuine Steel Samurai merchandise and I lost it!”

“How long has it been gone?”

“I’ve been searching for days now Nick, days!”

“Days, hm? Larry, were you searching at all around the time of the murder?”

Larry abruptly began to sweat.

“N-Nick buddy, you’re not trying to pin the crime on me are you? Cause I know I called Edgey’s dad a saint the other day, b-but-”

“I’m not prosecuting the case Larry.”

“R-right!” Larry gave a hesitant thumbs up. “Well I was out there on Christmas eve, listening to my radio and searching for the balloon.”

“Did you notice anything?”

“Now that you mention it, there was a popping sound at some point.”

“Larry! You might have heard the murder! You need to go in to the police and give a statement.”

“B-but if I have to testify, who will run the business?”

Phoenix channelled all of the dirty looks people had been giving him since the case began. Based upon the way Larry’s face paled, it worked well.

“A-alright! I’ll go in and talk Nick! Just let me put Polly somewhere safe for the time being.”

Polly was happy to jump on Larry’s shoulder. He grabbed the perch and marched over to the shop.

“So much for it being a sealed crime scene,” Phoenix thought, as Larry opened the door. “How is taking care of her going, anyway?”

Larry sighed, looking even more dejected.

“I can get her to say that people should buy dogs, but she stops remembering after a while, and just says-”

“Don’t forget DL-6!” Polly squawked.

Phoenix’s blood ran cold.

He was hearing it again, the name of the incident. It threw him back into days of learning snippets from the news, from conversations the adults spoke about in hushed tones when they thought he wasn’t in the room. And all around him, the cold had pressed down, clawing his face and numbing his fingers. The same grey ice which had filled his eyes, when Phoenix had asked without realizing.

“Just remember the dogs!” Larry pleaded, setting down the perch.

“Don’t forget DL-6!” Polly repeated.

That clue was worth more than the body itself.

“I should go to the records room, and look for the file on his death. If I’m wrong, it will at least eliminate a suspect.”

“C’mon Larry, let’s go.”

“What, you’re escorting me down to the precinct now?”

“I need to go there and find a file.”

“I’m not sure I believe that, but alright.”

Larry told him all about his dating woes on the walk there. Kiance likely would break up with him for abandoning the business. Phoenix almost felt guilty for being the cause, but he knew that their relationship would have been short-lived anyway. Besides, Larry’s testimony would help extend the court proceedings, and give him the evidence he needed to prove Mr. Edgeworth’s innocence.

Phoenix coerced Larry to stand in the corner and do nothing while he glossed over the file names. It was difficult, because no one followed the sorting system when putting things back. The Y names might go back to the Y section, but that wasn’t helpful when Y composed two entire shelves.

“Nick,” Larry began.

“I’m reading,” Phoenix said, skimming through the citations of a case.

“Nick,” he echoed, more feebly.

Absently, Phoenix swatted away Larry’s prodding fingers. Larry could have gone to give a statement instead of standing with him, bored, but he was delaying that. Phoenix honestly couldn’t blame him. They had both lost their girlfriends to murder, albeit in different ways. He wasn’t fond of interrogations and talking to the police either. That hadn’t stopped him from choosing the path of a prosecutor, but the memories lingered. Being on the wrong side of the glass was miserable.

“N-Nick!”

Pages slid between his fingers, none of them holding the answers he needed. Things would have been so much easier if the information was on electronic file. But the case was fifteen years old, and the department hadn’t spent the funding on computerized technology straight away.

A recognizable, saccharine odour curled under his nose. It grew, and something else mingled with it- motor oil. It was a pungent mixture, and brought a single image to his mind.

Fire.

Larry’s fingers were damp with sweat, but Phoenix let him hold hands. From the way Larry stood behind him, the person approaching could not tell this. Larry squeezed tighter, the smell grew worse, and Phoenix knew he couldn’t ignore the man any longer.

“Nephew, fancy meeting you here!”

“What a small world we live in,” Phoenix sarcastically agreed, shutting the file.

“It’s been a while,” Blaise grinned. “Who’s your friend?”

Phoenix thought the circulation would be cut from his hand completely.

“This is Larry.”

“Ah yes, now I remember,” his sunken eyes flicked over Larry. “You look so much like your dear mother!”

Blaise pretended to sniffle, and dabbed away the crocodile tears from the corners of his eyes. Larry didn’t say anything. He held on to Phoenix; pale, shuddering.

“What are you doing here?” Phoenix inquired.

“I could ask you the same thing. I’ve been hearing the most distressing rumours about my poor nephew turning into some kind of,” he choked up again. “Defence attorney! And me, the head of the Prosecutorial Investigation Committee!”

“Rumours are such strange things,” Phoenix chimed, glad that he had put on his prosecutor’s badge to gain easy access to the police records. He did not want to experience trouble at the hands of the PIC. Blaise had taken up headship of it, after retiring from the Chief Prosecutor position. “I wonder how that started?”

“I heard from Manny. He was quite upset about it.”

“Manny? Like Manfred von Karma? And I thought I had it bad in the nickname department.”

“What file do you have Uncle?” Phoenix asked. It was conspicuously tucked between his arm.

“You only call me that when you want something,” he snapped, pulling out his lighter. Blaise could dish, but wasn’t very good about taking the insincere title. Phoenix’s parents, either through willful blindness, or pure fear of who they had gotten themselves involved with, pretended they weren’t mocking each other.

“Humour me.”

“It’s nothing interesting. A friend asked me to have it pulled, so I thought, ‘May as well do it in person while I’m here,’ y’know?”

“I don’t suppose it’s a resolved suicide, is it?”

“I shan’t tell you that,” the man leered, as if the grin did not bely it all.

So he had the investigation file for Yanni Yogi’s death. That meant something. Phoenix thought of how he could persuade the man to give it. Blaise switched allies on a dime, he went against plea bargains, did as he wanted. Negotiations would have to benefit him in some way. Phoenix felt disgusted with himself for what he next suggested.

“Not even if it made von Karma’s case… interesting?”

“Photocopiers are wondrous things,” Blaise airily replied. “And I only promised that the file itself wouldn’t be given, after all.”

The copy of the investigation report was made. Blaise was about to hand it to Phoenix, but suddenly yanked the papers out of his reach. He kept his lighter off, but threateningly close to the pages. 

“You don’t plan on doing anything to draw the attention of the PIC, do you?”

“I don’t think the PIC cares about interesting trials, Uncle,” Phoenix said, never taking his eyes off the lighter. Again, he felt slimy for appealing to the man with everything he wanted to hear. Maybe he would throw himself into Gourd Lake afterwards, to cleanse the poison. “Or seeing certain prosecutors being taken down a peg.”

“Sounds reasonable,” he shrugged.

The copy was turned over to him, and Phoenix added it to his court record. Phoenix and Larry would have hightailed it in the opposite direction, but the man spoke, “Sometimes, Nephew, I forget how scheming you really are. You could have gone a long ways, if you’d studied under me. Not like my idiot son.”

Phoenix didn’t doubt the long way part. Six feet under seemed reasonably distant to him.

“Tell Sebastian I say ‘hi.’”

“At least remember what I’ve warned you about bright things,” he called after them. “I’d hate to have to disbar my own nephew.”

Chapter Text

They entered the court silently. They went through the opening proceedings without looking at each other. All the while, von Karma glared at the witness stand, and the orange-clad man who was stumbling up to it. Phoenix was exhausted, mentally and physically. He did not say much through the opening proceedings, letting the others handle it for him.

“What is your name?”

“Larry with an L.”

“Full name,” von Karma snapped.

“Laurice Butz. Also with one L.”

The prosecutor appeared seconds away from a massive headache. That was the power of Larry. Fortunately, Phoenix had thought ahead when he realized his friend would be taking the witness stand; he took the maximum dosage of aspirin possible, so he would be immune to whatever Larry decided to pull in court that day. So far, so good. He was confident that Larry’s testimony would raise enough doubt in the case to prove Mr. Edgeworth innocent.

“What is your occupation?”

Now it was Larry’s turn to look upset.

“Former hot dog salesman, former lifeguard of a nudist beach, former busboy, former attempted John Doe cadaver at the local med school, former step-son, former-”

“Current occupation,” hissed von Karma.

“Former- I mean, now a parrot trainer.”

“Oh Larry,” Phoenix said under his breath. “Thank God it’s not me he’s being uncooperative with this time.”

Larry had been involved in a strange number of his cases as a witness. Each testimony he gave was worse than the last. Friend or not, being a prosecutor with Larry around was hard. Being on the other side of the bench would make his job easier this time around. After all, Phoenix did not have to prove guilt with a witness who wanted to yell about how Phoenix ruined his light-up sneakers in second grade so he couldn’t criticize.

“You work at Gourd Lake, correct?”

“Formerly, yes.”

“Yesterday in questioning you said that you are a hot dog vendor.”

“Well I got fired today,” Larry amended.

“Prosecutor von Karma,” said the judge. “Perhaps we could just move on to your examination-in-chief now?”

“Yes, Your Honour.”

“I’ve never seen a person so furious and so subdued at the same time.”

“Witness!”

The entire courtroom jumped, which was probably von Karma’s intention. A healthy fear of the man had been impressed back into the minds of the court. Even Phoenix couldn’t prevent the shudder which passed over him.

“Yeah?”

“You will testify about what you saw on the day of the incident! It will be without the superfluous, it will be decisive, and show the guilt of the accused.”

“I dunno’ about that man, I mean I-”

“Testify or you will be charged in contempt!”

“O-ok! That night, I was out in a boat on the lake. I was looking for something and I, er, never found it. That’s part of why I’m fired now.”

Phoenix thought von Karma might object to Larry adding unnecessary details, but the man bit his tongue. He looked like he was about to have a coronary as a result. 

“I’m enjoying this too much for my own good,” Phoenix gleefully thought. “No wonder everyone else likes picking on me in court!”

“So I quietly slipped the boat back in at the rental shop dock.”

“Witness,” the judge said. “Are you telling me that you stole a boat?”

“Well, it’s not any worse than the parrot.”

Larry began to sweat.

“I-it’s not like that! I left the owner a hot dog! We’ve talked before so I knew it would be chill.”

“A hot dog? Really young man?”

“T-they were super-exclusive!” Larry insisted. “Limited edition! Please Your Judgeliness, I’m too single to go to jail. I haven’t even asked out my rebound plan yet!”

“I can testify that the hot dogs were indeed high-priced,” said Larry’s (unwilling, not paying for dinner and a movie) rebound plan. “I don’t think you’ll be criminally charged over this.”

“Very well, resume with your testimony.”

The judge still looked displeased, and Larry seemed a bit rattled from the experience. Phoenix couldn’t really blame him. Being accused of a crime was never fun.

“Then, just as I was thinking about going home, I heard this "bang"! After I heard that single gunshot I went home.”

“Hrm… Prosecutor von Karma?”

“Yes, Your Honour?”

“Which part of this vague testimony was remotely decisive?”

If von Karma had laser eyes, Larry would have been dead five times over since the moment he opened his mouth.

“It doesn’t match the statement he gave in questioning, Your Honour.”

Larry must have exaggerated some points to have his statement accepted by von Karma. But, knowing the prosecutor’s reputation, it was not unlikely that he had tried to coach Larry on what to say in court. Phoenix could barely get Larry to hold open a door when his arms were full of groceries, and they had known each other since infancy. Phoenix doubted von Karma could persuade Larry to do something he was genuinely opposed to.

“Haha, he’s your problem now, sucker.”

Phoenix wanted to make a childish face at the man, maybe stick out his tongue. As von Karma’s suspicious eyes narrowed on him, he thought better of it. Phoenix was suddenly reminded that von Karma carried a taser around. It may have gone into evidence like Franziska’s whip, but that meant he might have a substitute hidden somewhere. Maybe he would throw staplers if he got irritated enough. Or use his cane to smack people. What if the cane he had was the kind which turned into a sword? Phoenix decided that he didn’t want to find out if that was the case.

“Do you have anything to say for yourself Mister Butz?”

“I mean, I kinda’ just gave my testimony. What else is there to talk about?”

“You reacted when the gunshot went off!” von Karma announced, snapping his fingers. “How so?”

“Objection! Leading question!”

“Sustained. Please rephrase your question for the-”

“What did you do when you heard the gunshot?” von Karma asked, barely keeping himself from growling.

“I thought ‘oh those darn millennials, setting off crackers even before Christmas day!’”

“Larry… We are  millennials.”

Something more about this bit of testimony struck Phoenix as off. Then Ray spoke up, so he left it be.

“This is the best you could find?” Ray asked.

“Oh, so we’re talking again? Just like that?”

Phoenix knew that wasn’t the case. Ray just wanted to get in his snarky commentary like everyone else in the courtroom. But Ray hadn’t done anything- not investigating, nor in-court work. He hadn’t even been helpful as a witness or with giving potential background information on the case. He just stood there and occasionally made remarks, when the pain seemed to ebb.

“He’s better than the witness you found,” Phoenix said, never looking at Ray. “Which is to say, no one.”

“Cracker?” asked the judge.

“You said you heard a gunshot!” von Karma yelled. “Smarten up! I will not have you wasting any more of this court’s time!”

“I mean, people pull ‘em all the time around Christmas,” Larry said, crossing his arms and putting on a frown. “It could have just as easily been that. They use gunpowder as well after all.”

“You were on the lake Christmas morning,” von Karma replied through clenched teeth. “There was a murder involving pistol shots at the same time. Ergo, you likely heard a gunshot.”

“Whew! That’s some logic buddy.”

“I am not your ‘buddy’ and if you do not cease with your tomfoolery this instant, I will have you thrown out of court as an adverse witness!”

“Objection!”

“What?!” bellowed an increasingly frazzled von Karma.

“You cannot have him thrown out as an adverse witness!”

“Y-yeah!” Larry nodded. “Take that George Washington!”

“By definition, an adverse, or hostile witness is one who contradicts the position of the party who called them to the stand," Phoenix pointed an accusatory hand at von Karma. "Larry hasn’t gone against any of the evidence so far, he’s just been vague!”

“Good job Mister Wright,” The judge began to applaud for Phoenix. “You really have been studying.”

Phoenix almost thought he would cry. Not from tears of pain or frustration, but because he finally understood what it was like to be in court and have things go his way. It was amazing. So far, he had been heckled less as a defence attorney than a prosecutor. The job was miles easier in comparison!

“Mister Wright is right in this circumstance. While the witness’ testimony is insultingly bad, we can’t even hold him in contempt, let alone impeach him.”

“What’s this about peaches? I’ll have you know my blazer is blood orange!”

“Larry, don’t be pretentious, it’s orange.”

“I’ll ask that you refrain from making empty threats in this court. Otherwise, I will have no choice but to administer a-”

A sound like tightly-packed phlegm rasped at the back of von Karma's throat. While the man was already pale, skin crepe-like with age, it seemed to lose all colour. The threat of the penalty was enough to muzzle von Karma.

“Could I begin my cross-examination at this time, Your Honour?” Phoenix asked with false sweetness.

“The prosecution doesn’t seem to be objecting, so I will allow this.”

“Alright Larry, now’s your time to shine! I’ll poke enough holes in that shoddy testimony to prove Mister Edgeworth innocent!”

“Ok, let’s start. When did you hear the sound again?”

“I heard it when I had docking, and was putting out a hot dog offering like a good, law-abiding citizen who didn’t steal a boat.”

“Do you know what direction it came from?”

“It was sorta,” Larry flailed his arms. “Diagonal, like that. When I was hopping off the boat which I legally obtained.”

“Which way is diagonal in this situation?”

“Well, I was getting out with my back to the boathouse. That’s where I heard it come from.”

“I see,” Phoenix nodded. “And how many bangs did you hear that night?”

Larry earlier said it was only one bang. But three went off, because Lotta had taken three pictures. She also claimed to have heard three shots in succession. That likely had been a lie, because two picture showed a boat on the lake. One man was holding a pistol in their left hand, pointing it at the other. Both were sitting down. The third picture was an empty lake.

“Y-yeah, I heard stuff that night.”

“How many?”

“Just, you know, what we’ve already established.”

“One, earlier you said there had been one.”

“If you- if you say so man.”

A frown creased his face. Why was Larry reverting back to this state again? Larry was supposed to be on his side!

“And you had been doing so well Mister Wright. I can see that mentorship under Mister Shields has been a good influence,” the judge sighed, shaking his head. “Witness, please be more specific when testifying.”

“O-ok.”

“Do you know what time this happened around?”

“Didn’t I already say?”

He had done nothing of the sort with his original, cryptic words. Time could be important for establishing the series of events. Larry had begun to say things which, when combined with the other evidence, gave him a new theory. He needed to speak on the matter.

“Just restate for the court then,” Phoenix coaxed. “Or the Christmas present I’ve been duped into getting you will be a lump of coal.”

“D-dude, I don’t hafta’ repeat myself if I don’t want to.”

“You’re not repeating yourself though. You never-”

“Objection!”

Phoenix shrieked a tiny bit when von Karma cut in. Ray swore under his breath, just as startled. When the alarm wore off, they realized they were holding hands- and hastily let go. 

“You are beginning to remind me of the police force’s mascot,” von Karma sneered. “Ugly, spiked, blue, and a badger. You will refrain from badgering the witness this instant!”

“I’ve been compared to that fast blue hedgehog before, but never the Blue Badger!”

“I wouldn’t need to repeat myself if the witness would answer the question for the court,” Phoenix protested.

“It’s chill Nick, I forgive you!” his fair-weather friend proclaimed, holding up a thumb. “L-let’s just ask about something else!”

“Larry…” Phoenix groaned.

“Why’s he doing that?” Ray mumbled. “Is your pal always this flimsy?”

“You can go out and find your own witness if you want Ray,” Phoenix answered. “Witness, it’s not a hard question to answer.”

“Coming from the dude who cried during math period when he couldn’t figure out long division!”

“I-I got a math tutor,” Phoenix whimpered.

“You should get one in law as well,” von Karma suggested. “Your current mentor is quite useless, standing there with his head in his hands.”

Ray’s fists curled, snagging in his wiry hair.

“I can’t help it. And I can’t think if I take the painkillers.”

“Any thoughts so far?” Phoenix asked. “I could sure use some at a time like this.”

Everything was taking a downturn all of a sudden. How had it happened? Why had Larry’s useful function suddenly been switched off?

“God Nick, I’m trying. You think I want to just be standing here?”

Phoenix felt a pang of guilt. It was already torture for Ray to be out and walking when he should have been bedridden. That was only second to feeling helpless, that he was losing control of what happened around him.

“What time did you hear the shot?” Phoenix restated.

“Objection!”

It was hearing the soft, rattling chuckle that made Phoenix realize. The smell of cigarettes did not hit him until he turned around, and saw who was sitting behind him in the visitor’s gallery.

That was the reason Larry wasn’t talking. Every time Phoenix asked a question, every time Larry was forced to look in their direction.

The worst part was that he had brought it upon himself.

Blaise was there to make the trial more interesting.

“Alright,” Phoenix ground out, as he was given his first penalty. “I’ll move to another question. Could you tell us more about the state of the lake? Just close your eyes, remember what it looked like at the time, take us back to the moment.”

Phoenix especially hoped Larry would do the closing his eyes part.

“...”

“Hm, that isn’t a lot to go off of.”

“Nick, that was literally nothing to go off of!” Ray corrected.

“Witness, how do you spell that? Is it dot-dot-dot?”

“Oh! Is there a word for that?” asked the judge. “I’ve always called it three dots myself!”

“They’re called ellipses Your Honour.”

“Objection! You are not here to educate us on literary terms! Either do your job or get out!”

“You’re just jealous because you didn’t know what they were called either.”

“Witness, why don’t we talk about your relation to the accused?”

“R-relation?” stammered the judge. “Mister Wright, are you suggesting the reason that the victim was fine with him taking the boat was that-”

“NO! I mean, uh, no Your Honour. I just figured he would know something, seeing as they worked close by, and occasionally talked. We already know very little about the victim, but any details Larry can give might clear things up.”

“That’s sound reasoning,” said the judge, although he seemed disappointed there would not be a romantic courtroom tragedy.

Phoenix fully expected von Karma to object to his continued cross-examination. But the man just stood at his desk, indifferent. Earlier, von Karma had been losing the stranglehold he kept on his weaknesses. He seemed to have recovered from it. The prosecutor wasn’t smug, overly confident that things would swing his way, but he didn’t appear cornered, either.

“Considering who’s here helping him out, that’s an understandable reaction.”

There was no telling when Blaise would decide to switch sides. His influence couldn’t be trusted for long.

That thought made Phoenix worry.

“Blaise was still at the police station when Larry went in to give a statement. Could he and von Karma have intimidated him into not saying certain things?”

When Larry made up his mind, he was stubborn. Phoenix still had full confidence von Karma couldn’t have intimidated Larry on his own.

Blaise was a different story. Larry knew the man was responsible for his mother's disappearance, but he had been too afraid, still was, to suggest the possibility.

And now, when he sat down in the gallery, Larry stopped cooperating.

“When was the last time you saw the victim?” Phoenix inquired.

“...”

“Did he say anything of note to you in the days leading up to the murder?”

“...”

“Did he have any enemies that you can think of?”

Speculative chatter began as Larry refused to speak. The judge had to hit his gavel a few times, to settle them down.

“Witness, this silence isn’t doing you any good. Have you nothing to say for yourself?”

“He clearly has nothing more to say,” von Karma informed the judge, in a tone which seemed to imply, ‘you imbecile.’

“Ray, I think he’s under duress to not talk anymore. Have you ever dealt with that?”

“I had a case involving the mob like that once,” he answered. Ray’s face was taught with strain as he tried to recall the details. “They really wanted an enemy convicted.”

“What did you do?”

Ray’s breathing seemed to hitch with the answer.

“I lost.”

“You what?”

“It doesn’t matter how much evidence you throw at them, some people just won’t testify.”

“Ever since,” Phoenix lowered his voice even further. “Blaise entered the room, he hasn’t been speaking. He’s too intimidated.”

“Does the defence have anything to say at this time, or will the cross-examination be closed?”

“Ha!” von Karma gestured to their side of the room. “Just like the witness, the defence has nothing more to say for itself.”

“Wasn’t Larry supposed to be your decisive evidence? Why are you so eager to get him off the stand now? You realize he wouldn’t go along with the lines you fed him?”

Larry couldn’t speak for the defence or the prosecution. He just stood, trembling. Phoenix could almost feel it. Then he realized that it wasn’t Larry he felt, but Ray. The attorney was shuddering as well. A sheen of sweat glittered on his forehead, and Phoenix could smell the blood.

“Well then, I will have to call the examination of Larry Butz to a-”

Ray’s face went slack. Phoenix only had a second to catch Ray before the rest of his body followed. He gave out at the knees first, and narrowly avoided slamming his head against the desk’s sharp corner.

“RAY!”

He was unresponsive, but breathing. Something in Phoenix’s shoulder wrenched, as the man’s weight pulled on his arm.

“It’s just a stalling tactic, it has to be!”

Rationalization didn’t make the tears less real. There was stirring in the court. Two bailiffs came and took Ray from his arms. von Karma was scoffing, the judge was trying to call for order and state there would be recess at the same time. Phoenix didn’t see Mr. Edgeworth, but his demands to follow Ray to the lobby rang clear.

As soon as they left the court, Ray’s eyes sprang open. Now Phoenix knew it was a trick, but he couldn’t stop the sobs.

“Crybaby,” Ray mocked, flashing a brilliant grin.

A bailiff handed Ray a cup of water. The other began fanning him. Phoenix joined in, to resist the urge to slap Ray silly.

“I just fainted. Things went dizzy for a minute, but I’m ok.”

“Y-you idiot! You’re- you’re lucky that I caught you!”

“Aw, Nick.”

It had been fifteen years, and Ray still knew how to make him cry at the drop of a hat.

“R-Raymond!” Mr. Edgeworth joined up with them. A third bailiff chased after, making sure he wouldn’t get too far. “Please, tell me that was just a tasteless distraction.”

“It wasn’t,” he lied, casting a glance at the bailiffs. 

Ever since the nightmare of a Christmas had begun, Mr. Edgeworth had never made that expression. The detention center had turned him into a man of petty sneers, a quiet, yet angry facade. And it had been like looking at a stranger. Now his face was scrunched up with grief, and he appeared on the verge of falling apart.

“Y-you should leave,” he said. “Both of you. Please.”

Phoenix had half a mind to yell there would be no take-backsies. The rest of him plummeted, the high-drop feeling which came with guilt. It was the special type, reserved for when he saw his crying parents- adults, because the man wasn’t-

It didn’t matter if he was twenty-four years old, the awfulness of causing it never lessened.

“I’ll meet you halfway, and sit in the gallery,” Ray offered. “It’s not like I’ve been of much help so far.”

With strength he shouldn’t have possessed, Ray stood up. He tottered to the lobby exit. Two of the bailiffs chased Ray, fretting after him.

“Mister Shields, perhaps you should go back to the clinic.”

“N-nah, I’ll be fine. Really, all I need is some boiling hot coffee. You think they’ll let me bring it in?”

“I’m sure you can get a medical exemption…”

Their conversation faded, and Phoenix was left back in silence, in the odd state of invisibility. He wasn’t being looked at anymore.

Phoenix recalled Blaise’s warning, of what the consequences might be.

He needed to escape being the one who burned out. He didn’t know how that would happen, with Blaise present and Larry not talking. Also, he didn’t know how the fake Hammond fit into the picture yet. He was no closer to finding the truth than in the start of court proceedings.

Not a second after the thought, Phoenix was ushered to return. All in the room were organizing themselves and settled by the time he reached the desk.

“Mister Wright?”

“Yes Your Honour?”

“Are you still crying?”

“I uh,” Phoenix touched the wet spots on his face. “I guess so Your Honour.”

“Perhaps I should have let the recess go a minute longer…”

“Just another minute to add to the time being wasted!” von Karma scolded. “He’s obviously stalling for time! And even if he wasn’t, you should be telling him to pull it together! Tears have no place in a court of law.”

Someone should have told that to his student self. That would have caused an interesting, more tear-filled reaction.

“I’m capable of going on with the court proceedings,” Phoenix said.

“Hrm, are you sure?”

“Go already! Hand down your verdict!”

“I have to close the cross-examination first,” said the judge. “Witness, if you do not give any further testimony, I ask you to leave the stand at this time.”

The sound that followed was like von Karma’s demonic objection, multiplied tenfold. All of Phoenix’s hairs stood on end. His nails dug into the table, and goosebumps spread across his arms with the prickling chill. The scream- could it even be called that?- was beyond terrifying. His ears weren’t meant to process the noise, the wavelengths shouldn’t have been possible on their planet. Air couldn’t ripple in a way to produce the screeching, and yet it was.

The prosecutor was back to looking heckled. 

“What now?”

“I say!” agreed the judge. “What indeed?”

In the gallery facing Phoenix, he could see the spectators craning their necks, looking in his direction. Incomprehensibly, Phoenix understood who the scream had come from. Slowly, he turned around.

Blaise was sopping wet, and howling in pain. He was pushing viewers out of the way viciously- shoving and clawing and stomping on them with the heels of his biker’s boots. Ray was lain across the bench, until terrified spectators crowded him.

Ray had tipped what appeared to be the entire, steaming coffee pot on Blaise. An accident, naturally. He had fallen in a dead faint again. This time, Ray was carried out of the room.

Due to the temperature of the coffee, Blaise would likely need to be treated for minor burns to the skin. He would also need a new set of clothes.

In other words, Blaise was not coming back to the court for a very long time.

“So that’s what his plan was.”

Mr. Edgeworth seemed to have caught on as well. He mostly looked relieved.

“Ray… I won’t let your sacrifice go to waste!”

“I see, that was quite an unfortunate accident,” the judge said. “Now, as I was saying-"

“OBJECTION!”

“Huh?”

“What?”

“Larry?”

“TherewasoneshotandIhearditclosetomidnight!”

Larry tipped further over the witness stand with each desperate syllable. He crammed his words together as if Blaise would return at any second.

“W-witness!” the judge stuttered, alarmed. “Please slow down! Why have you chosen to spoke now?”

“I’ll ask the questions Your Honour,” Phoenix said. “It’s still my cross-examination right now.”

“Y-yes, of course.”

“Objection! You were already telling the witness to leave the stand,” argued von Karma.

“Y-yes, of course,” he nodded, switching sides.

“Objection! You asked Larry to go if he didn’t have anything else to say. It’s clear now that he does!”

“Yes, of-"

Phoenix stopped the back and forth arguing by focusing on Larry. His friend was almost panting. His eyes darted between the entrances of the court with cornered, animalistic fear. In a situation of fight or flight, Larry preferred to run. And when there was no way out, he froze.

“What time did you hear the shot around?”

“Close to midnight, I’m pretty sure.”

“You mean, before the alleged time of the murder?”

“Objection! The witness has already proven to be unreliable thus far. Unless there is evidence to show such a thing was possible, we can’t be certain.”

Swearing mentally, Phoenix went through his court record. Lotta’s pictures didn’t have time stamps on them. She and her laptop weren’t in court to prove when they had been taken either. He could ask for a motion to find her, but surely there had to be a faster way…

“Well Mister Wright, do you have any evidence?”

“Uh oh. I feel a penalty coming on.”

He needed more time to think. Time to think about time. Phoenix presented Larry’s Christmas present, the Thinker clock. The judge didn’t even speak. His expression was enough to convey that Phoenix only had three penalties left.

“I guess I can settle with asking for Lotta to come back, but surely there has to be a simpler way.”

What other evidence did he have? Clothes found in Hammond’s office, an investigation report of Yanni Yogi’s death, the knowledge that potted plants could hide things like swiss rolls in plain sight… Absolutely nothing. He would have to keep questioning Larry about the issue, or move on.

“What were you doing again, at the time of hearing the shots?”

“Getting out of the boat.”

“Anything else?”

“Oh those darn millennials, setting off firecrackers even before Christmas day.”

Larry had said so under direct examination. Was there a true reason for that?

“Witness, earlier you talked about how you thought the shot was a Christmas popper.”

“This is completely irrelevant.”

“I’m finding the proof you demanded,” Phoenix retorted. “Answer the question Larry!”

“G-geeze! Calm down, that wasn’t even a question you know. People set them off all the time at this point in the year.”

“But you specifically thought it happened before midnight.” Phoenix slapped the table with both palms. “Why?”

“‘Cause the podcast host-"

“What podcast?”

“I’m catching up to Envy Wears Emeralds, a deep romance set in the Victorian era between the High Baroness of Upper Picklescottshire and the mysterious and handsome- Well, you get it.”

“No, I don’t,” said the judge. “Do they find true love?”

“Yes, they do,” Larry proudly said. “And that’s what you get for spoiling the next episode of Steel Samurai Nick! Now your listening experience will be ruined!

As if he wanted to listen to such a disaster of a story to begin with.

“How was I supposed to know you watched a show for ten-year olds?”

“When does it air?” asked the judge.

“From ten-thirty to eleven-thirty PM! Anyway, I knew it was Christmas eve because the host kept mentioning it was the Christmas eve special.”

“Well, that seems like reliable enough proof,” he smirked. “What does the prosecution have to say to that?”

“What relevance does the time of the noise have in the grand scheme of things? Nothing! It’s frivolous!”

Then why would he ask Phoenix to prove it to begin with?

“No, I don’t think so. Larry, where did you hear the sound coming from?”

Larry made the weird gesture again.

“Sorta’ diagonalish behind me. Near the boat shop.”

“What did you do when you heard it?”

“I looked around, but I didn’t see anybody.”

“Logically, where would you think it had been set off?”

“W-what is this geometry class? I didn’t bring my ruler!”

“Let’s not stress out the witness with strenuous thinking,” the judge interrupted. “Just tell us what you’re implying Mister Wright.”

It was time to assert his first big theory of the case. Phoenix looked von Karma straight in his rage-filled eyes.

“I’m saying that the gunshot came from the victim’s own home! I’m saying that it was possible he was killed before anyone was on the lake!”

“Hah!” von Karma scoffed. “And what evidence do you have? Without it your claims mean nothing in a court of law! You and your nonsense will be thrown out!”

Not for the first time, Phoenix wondered why von Karma felt the need to be so intense. He had never come into contact with the man, avoiding him at the prosecutor’s office, but knew of all the stories. Listening to the grudges of his coworkers wasn’t anything like experiencing the attitude firsthand.

“Mister Wright, do you have any proof?”

“Nope. Nada. Zilch. Zero.”

The photograph of an empty lake might help, but it didn’t directly support his claim. There was nothing else useful beyond that.

Maybe he could bluff his way through it, and find a red herring.

Maybe he should stop pressing the issue, and redirect his cross-examination.

He was at a dead end for evidence. More investigation had to be done, into the identity of the victim.

Push forth or backtrack?

“Mister Wright?”

“I’ll clear my position Your Honour, with testimony from the witness!”

“Bah!” the prosecutor waved flippantly at Larry. “He has nothing of value to add!”

“As one of the last people to see the victim alive, he probably does!”

“Order! Order!”

The judge had to bang his gavel twice, and the crowd only quieted reluctantly. Some of them were beginning to wonder if Larry had been the killer.

“N-Nick, you’re not a prosecutor right now, right?” Larry asked. “You’re n-not accusing me of killing a guy, right?”

“No Larry. But you did see the victim regularly, because you worked close together.”

“Oh yeah!” Larry happily nodded. “I started complaining about all the fish guts everywhere to him.”

That didn’t really help his “I’m not the murderer” case, but Phoenix wasn’t going to bring that up. The audience was already doing it for him.

“First things first, what was the victim’s name?”

“He just told me to call him Uncle.”

“I see. That puts your theft in a whole new light,” said the judge. “If he was like an uncle, then he surely would have no trouble in lending you one of his boats for a time.”

“S-see? Told you we were cool! We used to eat lunch together, and I’d give him free hot dogs with extra relish and sauerkraut…”

“They’re still worrying about the temporary boat theft? And wait a minute, how come I had to pay?!”

“Sauerkraut? With relish?!” von Karma yelled, enraged. “You utter heathen!”

Phoenix wondered why von Karma was so offended by the idea. It was hard to imagine the man enjoying a hot dog in all his fancy clothes. What would he do if he got mustard on his cravat- glare it away?

“Did he begin acting strange up until the days leading to his murder?” Phoenix asked, so they would stop bickering about hot dogs.

“Well he started chopping up fish and selling them to people, but I think that had more to do with Gourdy than anything else.”

“I keep hearing about this Gourdy, but I have no idea who they are.” The judge’s eyebrows knit together in confusion. “What does Gourdy have to do with the case?”

Phoenix saw an opening, and took it. He found the magazine which Lotta had given him the day before. Phoenix showed the cover of it to the court. He opted to use the underhead, so it was projected for everyone to see. Then, with deliberate slowness, he began turning towards the page with Gourdy’s article on it. He just so happened to pass “Robert Hammond’s” page, and linger there.

“Hey slow down for a sec,” Larry requested.

“You can catch up on whatever idle gossip it’s published later! Right now you’re wasting our-”

Time.

“Why does von Karma keep saying that? The longest this trial can last is three days.” Phoenix shrugged it off. “I guess he’s just used to scaring everyone into a single-day proceeding.”

“T-that’s him!” Larry proclaimed, alarmed. “The guy in that picture is Uncle!”

“Larry! Are you certain?”

He should have thought to present the magazine sooner. All the way back during his investigation. But so much had been going on that he never did.

The judge called for order between strikes of his gavel. It was a long time before everyone stopped talking. Above the crowd’s collective voice, von Karma was also trying to argue his case, likely making disparaging remarks about someone in the room. From the way his eyes constantly fell on Phoenix, he could guess who that was.

“What does-” the judge had to restart, raising his voice. “What does this mean for the case?”

“Objection! This has nothing to do with the time of the murder, where the shot was heard, or where the murder took place! Those were all things that you have been claiming to do, with little to no result!”

Every piercing syllable was laced with more vitriol.

“I think this information is a little more important than my arguments, don’t you?”

“You,” the man hissed. “YOU!”

It was not von Karma’s raised voice which silenced the audience, but Phoenix’s calm one.

“At this time, Your Honour, I think we should stay the proceedings. Have the police do some deeper forensic testing on the victim.”

Or actually let the detective testify about the evidence the next time.

“You should also issue a summonses for Hammond, the imposter, whoever they are, to appear in court.”

From under the judge’s desk, there was a squeak of an agreement. It didn’t appear that the judge was leaving his hiding place anytime soon. So, they chose to breach court etiquette, and leave while he was still in the room.

Out in the lobby, Phoenix was a nowhere man. Mr. Edgeworth had nothing left to say for himself. But Phoenix was familiar with the pattern by now. At any moment, Larry was going to crash into him. He would be half-hugged, half-strangled. Maybe even sloppily kissed, if Larry was excitable. His friend would jabber on about the proceedings, about being threatened and Blaise showing up.

Yes, Larry was inbound at any moment. Phoenix hoped Larry had some extra evidence or thought to give about the case, which might help later on. It would certainly be convenient at a time like this.

The walk from the prosecutor’s lobby to the defense was a trek, especially with the outgoing crowd. But Phoenix was certain, he knew the moment he let his guard down the flying tackle-hug would occur.

Another minute passed. Phoenix knew because he was pretending to check his cell phone.

“Larry must have stopped at the bathroom. Maybe to flirt or something.”

A second went by, a third.

The corners of his eyes felt dusty, from the tears which had dried there. Ray’s scheme had shaken him up, badly. And he wasn’t going to find any comfort in a greying man who stared with false interest at the wall. Phoenix decided, as he wiped his eyes, that he wouldn’t mind one of Larry’s hugs in the moment.

He would wait fifteen minutes for his friend to show up, but Larry never did.

He seemed to have disappeared.

Chapter Text

His first stop during the investigation was Gourd Lake. Phoenix thought Larry might have gone back to his former job site, if only to get Polly. He was right about the latter part- Polly wasn’t anywhere. Her perch was missing from the hot dog stand, making it likely that Larry had taken her with him.

“Larry,” Phoenix sighed to himself.

“Hey pal!”

Gumshoe was running up to Phoenix. He seemed unaware that the roll of police tape he had was unravelling in a yellow trail behind him. Phoenix approached the detective, before he could lose any more of the tape.

“Detective, I see you’re back.”

“Y-yeah,” he nodded, panting. “Boy was von Karma mad! He kept muttering ominously about how you nearly gave him a penalty.”

Phoenix didn’t remotely want to imagine what that would look like.

“I did?”

“When you told him that Harry Butz guy couldn’t be thrown out of court. Threatening it was beyond his jurisdiction, remember?”

“I guess the judge did warn him about not making more empty threats,” Phoenix said. “What are you going to do now? Your investigation into last time didn’t go far in court. Whatever happened to the DNA samples you were taking? That would have saved us a lot of hassle.”

Gumshoe looked at his worn shoes, frowning.

“Yeah, I know. But that sort of stuff takes time. The test themselves are between twenty-four and seventy-two hours, but backlog means samples can sit for months on waiting lists without being tested. It’s a real problem with the three-day trial system in place, so our budget is always going into expanding the number of lab technicians we have on hand.”

Phoenix got the impression there was something more which wasn’t being added.

“Doesn’t von Karma care about decisive evidence? He could have pulled strings and had the test fast-tracked.”

“O-oof! You’re one sharp tack pal!”

“What was his reason for not sending it in?”

Phoenix entered the boat rental shop. Gumshoe was past the point of trying to bar him from crime scenes at this point. He knew the attempts wouldn’t do him any good.

“He said it would be a waste of resources.”

“I see.” Phoenix didn’t speak further, mulling over the information. The samples would still be in evidence, albeit untested. Gumshoe couldn’t do anything, but maybe there was someone else he could ask to send them in to the lab. “What are your orders now?”

Von Karma obviously wouldn’t want Gumshoe finding information that would be detrimental to his case. But that made Phoenix wonder what Gumshoe was supposed to be doing at the scene of the crime.

“To investigate some more. Look for fingerprints and stuff.” Gumshoe took out a bottle of aluminum powder, as if demonstrating something.

“That answer gives Larry a run for his money in the vague department.”

“Hm.”

Phoenix started to poke around the living space again. There still wasn’t much to see, although the reek of rotting fish and coagulated blood was worse. The place’s owner had done a fairly good job of tidying up the mess, but a bucket of murky water was still in the corner. How anyone could live with such a smell was beyond him. He could feel it invading his pores and smothering his ability to breathe.

Seeing the mess made Phoenix think about his earlier claim in court. If the victim had been killed in the room, there would be an explanation for the cuts he sustained, the blood which was present now.

“Detective, you confiscated some of the cutlery which was apparently used for chopping fish.”

“Sure did pal,” said the detective. He was bent over and dusting for fingerprints now. Not that it would be of any use. Someone had likely cleaned the suspect surfaces in the house, Phoenix knew it. Gumshoe had been sent on a fool’s errand, it gave him the image of productivity.

“Wouldn’t testing to see if it was human blood on them be important?”

“Didn’t we just talk about why that isn’t possible?”

“What about using some luminol then?”

“You won’t be able to distinguish between animal and human blood.”

“But we might find it in places where animal blood shouldn’t be.”

“What you think I just carry around a spray bottle of luminol all the time?”

Phoenix stared at the man until he was unnerved.

“Alright, alright! I’ll go check the van and see what’s there.”

Phoenix counted to ten after Gumshoe left. People had the most frustrating habit of forgetting important things and returning for them. When he was certain Gumshoe would be missing for at least five minutes, Phoenix snatched up the aluminum powder and brush. He had thought of the perfect place for it to be used, the safe.

There weren’t fingerprints, but there were smudges left on the buttons. Just like Gumshoe said there would be, if a person did not have prints. Only three numbers showed any signs of being touched. One, two, and eight. That narrowed down the number of possible combinations significantly. He played around with different combinations on the corner of a piece of paper from his organizer. The biggest problem was understanding which number had been used twice. That meant there were seventy-two possibilities instead of twenty-four.

“Maybe I should think about what I know of my suspect.”

The combination could have spelled a shortened form of Polly, with numbers corresponding to letters like an old phone. Now, that wasn’t a possibility. Phoenix took out the investigation profile. Witnesses had seen the man jump off a bridge in the mountains, near a village called Kurain. His shoes and clothes were found in the river later, as were missing teeth. Dental records had shown they were his.

“This stuff… it’s too impersonal. It doesn’t tell me much about who he was.”

There was a short blurb of information at the top. Occupation had been a bailiff, he was single at the time of his death, and the motive was guilt, depression, or a mixture of both. The man’s picture wasn’t of any help. He was younger, face unlined, and skin less waxy. His memory of “Hammond” indicated there was a difference in weight as well.

Phoenix abruptly had to sit down. If his theories about Hammond’s identity were right, then he had unknowingly faced, and defeated, Miles’ murderer in court.

“Was that vengeance? Did I bring some kind of weird justice to what happened fifteen years ago?”

Holy fuck, that was it, wasn’t it?

Fifteen years less a day was the end of Yogi’s trial.

The twelfth month, the twenty-eighth day.

As the safe door popped open, Phoenix wondered if he was a genius for figuring it out, or dumb for not thinking of the answer sooner.

“Hey! What are you doing, tampering with the crime scene pal?!”

Phoenix decided that he was an idiot. He put on his most charming smile, and then looked at Gumshoe.

“I figured out the safe combination,” he innocently said.

“Trying to rob a dead guy, are you?”

“No, that would be Larry and his boat theft.”

With a delicate hand, Phoenix took out what was in the safe. Gumshoe could not hide his curiosity, and peeked over his shoulder. Both of pretended they didn’t want to sigh in disappointment when the slip of paper wasn’t a winning lottery ticket.

“This seems like a letter,” Phoenix said, turning it over and beginning to read. “Whoever wrote it typed it.”

The letter was ripped. It appeared to have been printed on standard-sized paper, but it was torn part-way through. Phoenix had the top section of the letter. The message was chilling, to say the least.

Get your revenge on Edgeworth. This is your last chance! Now is the time to get revenge on the two men who ruined your life! First, you must call-

A large section, more than three-quarters, was missing. Phoenix wondered where it could have gone to. Perhaps the letter had come with instructions to be destroyed. Either way, it was devastating evidence against von Karma’s case.

“Wow, von Karma is really not going to like this.”

Gumshoe was thinking the same thing.

“I don’t think my paycheck will either.”

“Too bad there’s no way to prove who sent it.”

“They must have handled it at some point. The natural oil from their hands would have left prints. Paper’s really absorbent. Here, I’ll-”

Phoenix dodged Gumshoe’s hand.

“No way! If von Karma hears about this he won’t let it be shown in court!”

“Look pal, if you don’t give it to me, you’re putting both our jobs on the line. I was supposed to be guarding the scene after all. And you’ll be in double trouble for disobeying an officer.”

What should he do? Phoenix had no doubts the towering man could flatten him in a single punch. Even if he somehow outran the detective, he would be arrested the moment he stepped in court. Then, there would be no one to defend Mr. Edgeworth.

“H-hey!” Gumshoe said, alarmed. “Y-you don’t need to start crying again! I-I’m sure there’s plenty of other evidence… Here, take this! And this too! Some of my secret investigative weapons! I’ll bet that you find something!”

Phoenix was given a fishing pole of all things, and a metal detector. He was too confused to actually start crying over the injustice of it all. Then, with his arms still full, Phoenix was dragged out of the boat rental shop and towards the parking lot. In the police van there was a shiba inu. The dog perked up when it saw Gumshoe, wagging its tail and yapping.

“And here we have Missile! He’s the star of the police department, and a K-9 unit in training!”

“Woof!” Missile barked, as if he was agreeing.

“How is any of this supposed to help?”

“Well Missile’s got a crazy-good sense of smell. He can track people, find contraband hot dogs, all that stuff. Metal detectors go without saying. They’re perfect for finding weapons, bullets, and treasure. The fishing pole, well, I’m sure it will come in handy some day.”

“C-contraband hot dogs? Treasure?”

“If you don’t want to use any of it now,” Gumshoe took the pole and detector back. “Just find me at a later time!”

Investigating at the lake had yielded nothing beyond the letter. Still miserable over losing it, Phoenix decided his attention was better-focused somewhere else.

Phoenix stared at the potted plants while waiting for the security line to thin.

“Now that I notice it, one of those hedges has a bit of a hole in them as well. Maybe the same person was stashing swiss rolls in there too?”

The speculation was a distraction from the unpleasant conversation to come. There was no point in being gentle anymore. Begging and crying had gotten him nowhere. It was only venting his anger, trying to talk some sense into the man that had worked. This didn’t mean Phoenix wanted to be temperamental, but they were running out of time.

“What is it?”

“I need you to tell me everything you remember about the DL-6 case.”

Mr. Edgeworth's monosyllabic answer was prepared before Phoenix got to the end of his request.

“No.”

“You can’t just keep quiet about everything. I don’t know what you and everyone else are trying to hide from me, and at this point, I don’t really care. But if you don’t tell me, you’re going to get convicted.”

“...You’re not… trained to…”

“Trained to what?”

He lowered his head, almost ashamed of the answer.

“Believe in people.”

Phoenix crossed his arms, impatient. What sort of a lackluster response was that? He was a prosecutor, he wasn’t supposed to have that mentality. People lied, they did so even in the face of evidence. They concealed and sweet-talked, thinking they knew better, thinking they could use other’s nativity- belief- as a foothold. He couldn’t stand liars.

“So?”

“Would you have taken this case if all the evidence pointed to me?”

“The evidence already did,” Phoenix scoffed. “That’s why you’re sitting behind the glass right now.”

“Not because the series of events were suspiciously convenient?” Mr. Edgeworth retorted.

“I don’t really,” Phoenix paused, and restarted, wanting his voice to simmer in anger. “I don’t really get what you’re saying.”

“What if I did it?”

“Well you obviously didn’t.”

“You haven’t asked me once about what happened on that boat,” he snapped.

Everything ground to a halt. Phoenix was temporarily stunned, realizing it was true. But that didn’t have to mean anything. The anger came rushing back not a second later.

“First of all, I don’t suspect you,” Phoenix jabbed at the glass as he said this. “Second of all, I am ninety-nine point nine nine percent sure that you wouldn’t have said anything if I did ask.”

“What will you do when the truth points to me?”

“It doesn’t! Stop talking like you want to be convicted!”

“I want to stop lying.”

“About what?”

The same chill from when Phoenix read the letter flooded his middle.

“Conviction is nothing less than I deserve.”

The only thing yelling accomplished was being politely escorted from the room. He was out of cards to play with the man, Phoenix did not believe there was anything he could do. Ray was his only hope, and he still wasn’t expecting to receive much help in that department. Perhaps if he used Ray’s desire to be helpful to make him speak…

The manipulative thought made him feel like a monster, and Phoenix quashed it.

“What’s got you in tears this time?”

Phoenix sat down in the uncomfortable chair. It creaked with his weight, as if in the same pain Ray was. The blinds had been drawn, to prevent any additional stimulation from bothering Ray. His concussion was a nasty one, and not resting had made the symptoms worse.

“He’s talking about wanting to be convicted, and that he did it, but-”

Ray let out a slurred list of curses.

“Why is he talking like that Ray?”

Ray sighed, and likely would have shook his head if not for how it was propped on the pillows. He was out of his work clothes, and had returned to a paper gown. Even under the well-tucked blankets, it must have been cold.

“Nick, if you haven’t figured it out, surely someone’s told you by now. Gregory was a suspect in the DL-6 incident.”

“He wouldn’t-!”

“Children are most likely to be killed by their parents. You’re a prosecutor Nick, you know that statistic.”

It was true, he couldn’t deny that. Parents harmed children, and divorced parents were the most likely to abduct theirs. They did so for a range of motives, but it all boiled down to the same fact.

“There was,” Phoenix didn’t know why, but he was panting, filled with righteous anger. Ray was just explaining the details of the case, but he couldn’t help but be insulted. “No reason!”

“They were trapped for hours. And slowly running out of oxygen. Wouldn’t it have been a small mercy to die painlessly, rather than-"

“He didn’t kill himself afterwards!”

There was a hysterical note in his own voice. Phoenix didn’t recognize it as his.

“He’d already fallen unconscious.”

“T-that’s a stupid theory Ray!”

“It’s what the defense initially went for. But the public was happier to accept that a stranger did it, rather than a loving father. And it’s not the kind of allegation you recover from, Nick. Not privately or publicly. He’s been dealing with survivor’s guilt for fifteen years, and the legal community’s suspicion on top of that.”

“He really wants to be convicted then?”

Phoenix buried his head in his hands. He wanted to lose himself in that dark world, where nothing had to go haywire.

“From the sound of it.”

“But he didn’t do it. He wouldn’t-! It’s the survivor’s guilt, just like you said.”

“Until you convince him of that…”

First the letter and now the revelation that his client actually wanted to receive a guilty verdict. Phoenix had believed things couldn’t get more difficult from there.

He was wrong in the most spectacular of fashions.

Chapter Text

“This is it. Our last day in court.”

One way or another, things would come to an end that day. It was futile to try conversing with the stubborn man , so Phoenix went straight in. They breezed through formalities. The tension in von Karma’s shoulders was visible, even from across the room. The man recalled Gumshoe to the stand, unwilling to “waste” what little chance they had left to argue.

“Detective Gumshoe will clear up the matter with the evidence which has been found.”

Gumshoe took that as his signal to begin testifying.

“To start, we looked at the fake Robert Hammond’s fingerprints. They didn’t match up with the ones we had on file, so we know he isn’t Hammond.” People working in law and the military had their fingerprints in the national database, for security reasons. Gumshoe leafed through his police notes before continuing. “Again, we tried to at least partially match the victim’s to Hammond’s, but the cuts he sustained still got in the way. Instead, we contacted former coworkers of Hammond, and they confirmed the body was his.”

Like Gumshoe’s first appearance on the stand, Phoenix could tell that portions of it were rehearsed, that bits of information was being left out.

“I see,” nodded the judge, grave. “And to think I hadn’t noticed he was a fake attorney at trial!”

“You’d be surprised at what you don’t notice Your Honour,” Phoenix thought, grimacing.

“And what of the identity of the impersonator?”

“That, we don’t know. His prints are burned off, and he wouldn’t talk during interrogation.”

“But you’ve brought him to court today?”

“Yessir.”

“That is all the prosecution has to offer at this time, Your Honour,” von Karma said.

“Well Mister Wright, you may begin your cross-examination.”

“Objection!”

“I haven’t even opened my mouth yet!”

“It is unnecessary. Though the identity of the victim has changed, this does little to alter the overall facts of the case. It has done nothing to show that Gregory Edgeworth is not guilty. Merely that the prescription for his hideous glasses was outdated, as he obviously killed the wrong person.”

“Hey, that’s a low blow! There’s nothing wrong with his glasses!”

“While I understand your reasoning Prosecutor von Karma, I think Mister Wright will probably keep objecting until we let him cross-examine, and that would take even longer than not letting him do it at all.”

“That blow was even lower,” Phoenix mentally groaned. Not even von Karma’s unhappy face could make him feel better about the insults.

“Start already!” von Karma snapped at him. “Ask your frivolous questions!”

“Ok.” Phoenix centered his thoughts, and decided which direction he wanted to take Gumshoe’s questioning. “Have you made any other attempts to figure out the imposter’s identity?”

“Objection! If he has, the results didn’t yield anything. Your question is therefore pointless and repetitive.”

“But-”

“Sustained.”

Now he was down to two penalties. Phoenix realized he would not be able to press Gumshoe on every statement. He would need to be more selective, otherwise von Karma was going to come down on him like a ton of bricks. It was important to prove that the imposter was Yanni Yogi, but equally so to show that he was the real murderer.

“Detective, you have researched into the background of Hammond, as well as what little we know about the imposter, correct?”

“Yup!”

“With this information, is there anyone who would have the motive to-”

“Objection! That information is beyond his expertise as a witness.”

“But he’s a detective, he can testify about profiling!”

“He’s not qualified as a psychologist to give that information.”

“Even as an officer, he has to be able to deduce who the likely suspects are. It’s a basic requirement of the job! Of course, he arrested the wrong person in this case so-”

“T-that’s not fair pal!” stammered Gumshoe. “I chose the obvious perpetrator! He was right at the scene.”

“That’s enough,” the judge said. “Mister Wright, what is your intention here?”

“I want Detective Gumshoe to testify more about the owner of the boat shop, Your Honour.”

“He’s said all that he could,” von Karma argued. “There is little else to be discussed! The matter is closed!”

“The matter does seem rather closed. Is there something important about him which should be brought to the court’s attention?”

Now came the second big stretch of the case. It was going to take all that he had to show the truth, with very limited evidence. The battle was already uphill, but the climb just appeared to get steeper and steeper.

“There is.”

“I will allow this,” the judge ruled. He peered at Phoenix with a stern expression however, down the length of his nose. “But you need to remain on track with your questions, understand?”

“Yes, Your Honour.” Phoenix gulped, pulling at his collar. A ring of prickling fire had come alight around his neck. The pressure was getting worse, and they had barely started the court proceedings. “Detective, I believe that we can learn some important information about the accused from analysing his home. Can you tell me if he owned anything of note?”

“Nah, the place was pretty spartan pal. The most valuable thing he had was his parrot, Polly.”

“Hold it! You say that, but didn’t he have a safe? Wouldn’t there be something more valuable in there?”

“W-well parrots cost a lot you know, about the same as a dog, unless she was a rescue.”

Just like he thought, the letter wasn’t going to be discussed. Gumshoe had been bullied into keeping quiet by von Karma. A glance at the elderly man showed he was nonchalant (as much as a person with perpetually scary eyebrows and a sour face could be) but observing Gumshoe with a watchful eye. The moment he spoke too much, there would be trouble.

“So you’re telling me you didn’t try to crack the safe combination?”

“T-there were more important things to take inventory of.”

“Even though you could have hypothetically taken the fingerprint powder, seen what buttons had been touched, and then guessed the combination from there?”

“Mister Wright, are you telling me you’re working as a bank robber to pay off your student loans?”

“No Sir,” he answered, sweating. “Although I consider it every time I have to pay rent.”

Funnily enough, it was a trick he had learned from Prosecutor Faraday. The man had a disconcerting number of questionable talents. Each reason he gave for knowing them was more cryptic than the last.

“Every surface in the place was wiped down you know,” said Gumshoe. “I figure it would be the same deal with the safe.”

“So you’re telling me that you do not know what was in the safe, that you made no attempt to open the safe, and that the safe was not worth mentioning to begin with?”

“How many more times does he have to repeat himself?” von Karma asked. “You know what the answer is. Shut up and move on!”

Those two things were mutually exclusive, but Phoenix felt it wasn’t the time to bring that up.

“Well Mister Wright, you haven’t seem to brought up much with your cross-examination. Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

Was it time to bring up his theory about who the impostor was? He could show the file about Yanni Yogi, and explain to the judge the possibility. But did he have enough evidence to show it was true?

No, he couldn’t press it, he couldn’t risk yet another penalty.

“I’m finished, Your Honour.”

“Then I call the cross-examination to a close. Would the prosecution call its next witness to the stand?”

“He has nothing to say,” von Karma replied. “Direct and cross-examinations are fruitless at this time.”

“Hum,” muttered the judge. “But where does that leave us then?”

“Understandable, given the constant distractions that attorney has brought up in trial,” von Karma said. He squeezed his forearm, the blue fabric of his sleeve wrinkling together. “I shall summarize, and then you will provide your guilty verdict as a result.”

“O-ok.”

“The murder took place in the middle of Gourd Lake after midnight-”

“Wait just a minute.”

The interjection was soft in comparison to their abrasive yelling. The speaker strode up to the witness stand, appearing like there wasn’t a care in his world. He shooed Gumshoe off with a dismissive flick of his wrist, before reaching into his trench coat to pull something out: a plastic evidence bag, labeled and numbered as was usual. Inside of it was a butcher’s knife, with traces of blood still on the ridges.

“YOU!”

Phoenix had thought that von Karma hated him. It was a feeling he shared with the monstrous prosecutor. But the moment von Karma lay eyes on Detective Badd, Phoenix realized he didn’t know what von Karma’s hatred truly was. All the sneering, all the condescending and finger-wagging, that was what he did to people who minorly irritated him. Like pesky flies, who could be swatted and squashed with his commanding attitude. Now real loathing was unrestrained, not held back by a thin veneer of control.

“Feeling’s mutual,” Badd announced. He reached for a lollipop, cool as a cucumber.

“No wonder why they don’t work on the same case together. I’ll bet they’re constantly at each other’s throats.”

When von Karma put two and two together, and realized that Phoenix was the reason for Badd’s arrival, Phoenix learned what it really was to be hated by a von Karma.

“What’s, what is going on here?” demanded the judge. “Why did you casually enter through the main doors and come to the stand? How did the bailiffs let you in? And we’re under a strict no-food-even-for-exceptions-ban, ever since the coffee incident yesterday.”

“Well, I’ve got some evidence... back from forensic testing,” Badd told him, shrugging. “It’s a knife... from the boat rental shop with blood of the-”

“Objection.”

“You can’t… object to my testimony. I’m answering the judge’s... question. Anyway, it has the blood of Robert Hammond on it.”

“Objection!”

“The lacerations the body received... are consistent with the knife’s… shape.”

The whispering in the visitor’s gallery rose with this information.

“OBJECTION!”

“I would actually like to interrupt myself,” agreed the judge, looking at von Karma. “Why did it take so long for you to present this knife?”

“It was… Irrelevant to the case…” von Karma did a fair imitation of Badd. Though, his pauses were coming as a result of his slipping temper. “The fatal wound was bleeding due to the bullet, which the autopsy report shows! Besides, he is not a part of the assigned investigation team. Have the detective and his knife thrown out this instant! I will not tolerate this blatant interference!”

“I got permission... to ignore you...re requests.” he said, showing the written confirmation to the judge.

Coincidentally, his superiors owned a type of signature pen that resembled what Prosecutor Faraday used.

“You’re not the only one who can pull strings around here von Karma.”

“Impossible!”

“It’s here for… your viewing… pleasure.”

“Prosecutor von Karma, are you telling me that there was evidence left deliberately unreported?”

“The facts of the case do not change without it.”

“I suppose that is true.”

How could the judge be so oblivious? That information changed everything in the case!

“No it’s not!”

“Hrm, nevertheless, I warn you strongly not to do such in the future. The knife could have been important, and then I would have no choice but to issue a penalty.”

For the second time, von Karma had been threatened with a penalty, and his face grew drawn. Phoenix didn’t know why, but it was somehow worse than the anger. It was uncanny, something to be afraid of even when there was no reason to.

“I’m sensing a great deal of unfairness on who gets penalties more easily here.”

Without someone to step on his foot or hit him in the stomach, Phoenix only just remembered that he needed to speak up. Badd had come through for him, and now he had someone new to cross-examine. There wasn’t much they could discuss about the evidence, but it would extend the proceedings.

“If it’s alright with you, Your Honour, I’d like to begin my cross-examination.”

“Yes, very well Mister Wright.”

From the judge’s tone, Phoenix could almost visualize the two penalties which remained. He needed to watch what he said in the future, and chose what to say after thinking.

“Could you please reiterate what injuries the victim received from the knife?”

Badd merely gestured to the autopsy report.

“Like it says. Face, neck, hands… All pretty shallow, since it was a kitchen knife and all.”

“Hold it! Shallow? How can that be possible when deep cuts are required to ruin fingerprints?”

“Deep cuts mean they… won’t grow back.”

“I see. Any theory on how he really got the cuts then?”

“Defensive...wounds.”

Badd held his arms out in demonstration, splaying his palms. Anyone approaching with a knife could have slashed across the fingers, to make the person drop their arms, and then go for the vitals. They had failed though, why?

“Detective Badd, the autopsy report says the bullet happened before the cuts. Is there a reason for why forensics knows this?”

“Over… the wound… there is a cut. The way the skin broke shows it happened afterwards.”

“I see. And where was the knife found again?”

“In the shop’s sink.”

“Thank you,” Phoenix said. “That’s all I need to know.”

“Bluffing doesn’t suit you,” von Karma replied.

“Believe me, I haven’t even begun to start bluffing.”

On the outside, Phoenix acted like he was ignoring von Karma’s remarks. He needed to be stern, to be collected, for when he made his case.

“Your Honour, this information, combined with Larry Butz’s testimony, and Lotta Hart’s photographs proves that the murder did not take place in the boat.”

“And where did it happen then?” challenged von Karma.

“The rental shop. We’ve already established that the first shot of the evening was heard there.”

“Bah! If the victim was killed indoors, then why are there two photos of them on the boat around midnight? What pathetic answer will you provide for that?”

“The body could have been transported. That’s why they’re sitting down.”

“Tsk,” von Karma waved his finger, smug with Phoenix’s theory. “The autopsy shows that the victim died in the water, yet you are suggesting he was killed in the shop!”

“U-urk!”

Just as he had been getting into the flow of contradicting von Karma, he had changed things. The perspiration was strong, the smell and damp feel of it only making things worse. Phoenix brushed at his temples, trying to keep his cool.

“He didn’t have to be shot until on the boat. With the knife-”

“FOOL! Get your own weak ideas straight! That lumpy excuse of a detective testified that the shot happened first! Ergo, the subsequent attack with the knife would have occurred on the lake as well!”

He was right about that. Phoenix didn’t know what to make of the situation. Could Hammond have lived long enough to be taken out to the lake? Phoenix went over the sequence of events he had envisioned.

The impersonator received a letter from someone, prompting him to get revenge on Mr. Edgeworth and Robert Hammond. It also appeared to have instructions, likely about the murder and framing jobs. On Christmas eve, Hammond had gone to Gourd Lake, and entered the shop. Larry heard a shot coming from that direction.

Hammond entered, and then what? Maybe he dodged what should have been a fatal shot. Maybe he had been the one with the pistol. But no bullet or ricochet markings had been found, so that wasn’t likely. After speculating the possibilities, Phoenix realized he had been limiting his thinking too much.

“The only thing we can be certain of is that the cut across the shoulder came after the bullet! We can’t say anything about the rest!”

“Then demonstrate some legitimate evidence. What proof do you have so far? Nothing!”

“I do agree that you’ll need some evidence if you want to keep discussing the possibility,” said the judge.

“Oh boy. What piece of evidence supports any of my story so far?”

Now was not the time for his mind to start going blank. Phoenix went through his court record. There was the Thinker statue, the old set of clothes, the knife, multiple pictures of different scenes...

“Take that!”

“Take what?”

“The cleaned up state of the shop,” Phoenix said. He showed the photo of the home, and pointed to the pail of rusty-looking water. “Someone did a lot of work to get rid of the evidence of a struggle.”

“The owner was selling fish bait,” he dismissed. “There would naturally be blood around the area.”

“First of all, it was Gourdy bait. Second of all, traces of the victim’s blood was already found inside- in the form of the knife. Gumshoe even said that the place had been wiped down completely of prints!”

“That does seem suspicious, now that you mention it,” chimed the judge.

“Now, back to what I was arguing. There was obviously a struggle which drew blood in the shop, since it was washed away afterwards. I think it is likely that the person wielding the pistol was disarmed, and so he next reached for the knife to subdue the victim. Finally, recovering the pistol, they went out to the lake under gunpoint.”

“Why then, were a second and third shot fired on the lake?”

“At the start of this trial, we established that the angles meant it wasn’t possible for someone to have been shot in either of those pictures. The left hand held the pistol straight ahead, but the victim’s left shoulder was the one injured. The second was likely a warning shot. The third took place when Edgeworth was on the boat.”

“You say Edgeworth like he is not the perpetrator of this crime.”

“That’s because-”

The judge defused the argument.

“Mister Wright, what do you mean by a warning shot?”

“To well ah…” It had been more of a suggestion. “To force the victim into the lake. Y-yeah!”

“You don’t sound very certain about that.”

“Because he has no decisive evidence!” von Karma countered. “I suggest that we cease listening to his wild stories, and actually focus on a concrete subject.”

“My proof… lies in this.”

It was time for humongous allegation number three. The investigation report was presented. Phoenix did not look at the prosecutor as he did. The hatred was beginning to scare him like his threats and screams couldn’t. Von Karma’s stare had begun to suggest that he was imagining Phoenix being dismembered, with his dripping skull lodged on a pike.

“W-what- what does this trash have to do with anything?”

“Yeah, I bet you’re surprised to see that Blaise didn’t help you out that much.”

“The reason was revenge. As Hammond did not die during the initial assault, he was forced into the lake instead. His death was all the more horrible, because of that.”

The judge seemed to remember the details Gumshoe had given about the body. A green tinted his face once more.

“As for why he wanted revenge, that has to do with his identity. The killer, the owner of the rental shop, they are the same person, Yanni Yogi!”

The gavel was banged innumerable times. From all the outbursts the crowd had, this was by far the loudest.

“Order! Order!” But the judge couldn’t control their actions. It was likely they couldn’t even hear the wooden strikes over their own excited voices. “We will have order in the court this instant! Mister Wright, you will explain your allegation to us!”

“You can count on it, Your Honour.” That was the phrase which finally made the spectators quiet. Benches creaked, everyone was leaning forwards, not wanting to miss a word. “And I’ll have Yogi’s testimony to prove it.”

“Imbecile, he will not make a statement.”

“Like many aspects of this trial, that’s not up for you to decide,” Phoenix said. “The imposter will come to the stand so I can get to the truth of this matter.”

“Truth?” von Karma mocked. “That is the job of the prosecutor, or have you forgotten?”

“It’s you who’s forgotten.”

The imposter, reluctant but defiant, walked up as he was called. He was still dressed in clothes which belonged to Hammond, right down to the attorney’s badge. With a picture for reference, he only had superficial likeness to Hammond. It was obvious his hair had been dyed black, because greyish roots sprouted from his crown now. Had the man believed that all he needed was similar-looking hair and a badge? Once comparisons were brought in, the idea that he could pass off was laughable. And yet, it had worked all throughout Ray’s trial, without any of them questioning who he really was.

“Let’s start off with what we know about Yanni Yogi: though there were witnesses to his death, no body was found when the river was dredged, just clothes and a few teeth.”

“Well, the man certainly has all his teeth,” von Karma shot back. “Open your mouth!”

He did.

“How many teeth are adults supposed to have again?” asked the judge.

“Thirty-two Your Honour. Even then, dentures and false teeth are such a wonderful invention. I’m sure von Karma has a few of his own.”

“I’ll have you know that my teeth are perfect!” snarled von Karma, practically baring them for the court to see. “I never have required orthodontic treatment, gotten a root canal, cavity, nor other tooth-related blemish!”

“They are quite well-kept,” the judge affirmed. “If the prosecutor’s office had an award for dental hygiene, I’m sure you would win!”

If the prosecutor’s office had an award for dental hygiene, they would be dentists.

Phoenix shook himself from the thought.

“Following that, I would like to point out that the name of Yogi’s late fiancé was Polly, the same as the parrot’s!”

“Bah! A mere coincidence, that's all! My granddaughter has a dog she calls Phoenix. Well, Mister Phoenix Wright? Does this make you my granddaughter's fiancé!?”

“Uh…”

“She's only seven years old!”

“Um…”

“Alone, it is a little weak for evidence in a murder trial,” said the judge. “Polly is one of the most common names for a parrot after all. We would need some other corroborating evidence.”

“The safe combination is the same date as the DL-6 case!”

“This is not tangible proof either! I set my ATM card's number to triple zero one because I'm number one! This has nothing to do with a date! Nothing!”

“Hrm, he does have a point. And I would also suggest changing that after you get out of here.”

“If only I could have the parrot here to prove my case. Then I could have her talk about the DL-6 incident.”

Unfortunately, Phoenix would not get a chance to cross-examine the witnesses’ pet parrot.

Earlier, von Karma had accused him of bluffing. Now the prosecutor was really going to see what he could stretch. Even if he couldn’t show the accused was Yanni Yogi through the parrot and safe, the proof of his actions was still there.

“So long as we’re on the subject of the safe, I should bring up the letter.”

“Letter?” asked the judge.

“There is nothing of the sorts. He is grasping at straws.”

“I wonder what Yogi has to say on the matter?” Phoenix asked, never taking his eyes from the man. “It told him to get his revenge, began giving detailed instructions about how to commit the murder, and to frame Raymond Shields.”

It was becoming an effort for Yogi to not crack under the pressure. His fingers had curled into fists, and he was gritting his teeth. It looked like something wormy and alive was beneath his waxy skin, crawling, trying to burst out.

“No such letter has been brought to my attention by the investigators,” lied von Karma.

“I know what that portion says, just like I know where the second part of the letter is hidden.”

“Evidence,” was all von Karma could utter. “Evidence.”

“Yogi already confessed to an earlier crime where he entered the Grossberg law office. He left your taser and the bludgeoning tool there.”

“Insufficient,” he sniffed, as if that was the end of the discussion.

“Yogi went to Hammond’s office after killing him, to collect all that he would need to complete his disguise. And this evidence also shows it!”

“...Mister Wright, now is not the time to be presenting your badge and yelling ‘take that.’”

“S-sorry, I don’t know why I did that,” Phoenix said, mortified blush creeping up his face. “Anyway, this pair of clothes stood out from the rest! They distinctly do not belong to Hammond!”

“We all keep an older pair of clothes around for messy crime scenes and dusty archives,” von Karma explained.

“Geeze Louise, can nothing please you?”

“I will not settle for less than perfection! Your tale is gaping with holes the local township refuses to pave because they are cheap!”

“That sounds a lot more like something the fake Hammond would say.”

“This letter appears to be quite damning evidence,” the judge said. “Where can we find the second half?”

“Why don’t we have Yogi tell us?”

“I call your bluff,” Yogi responded. “Where is the letter?”

“I should have realized earlier, especially since you know Larry, and he could have told you the secret.”

“Told me what?”

“Objection! The defense is goading!”

“And I had wondered why you brought that heavy statue of all things, along when you attacked Franziska von Karma and Raymond Shields, but it makes sense to me now.”

“Rrr-”

“I object to this!”

“This plot was so complicated that you needed to carry the instructions on you. The inside base of the Thinker was perfect for hiding that.”

“You cannot-! I OBJECT!”

The prosecutor was yelling himself hoarse with legal excuses and reprimands, but no one wanted to listen to his threats. What Yogi would say was far more important.

“Enough.”

Yogi seemed to melt. Part of him- the act of Hammond?- had slipped away. Then he was a tired old man, with a disturbing air of satisfaction about him.

“Sir?” the judge asked.

“You,” Yogi was looking at Phoenix as he said this, with hard, lined eyes. “You defend when you prosecute, and prosecute when you defend. It is quite… Bizarre.”

In the end, all Phoenix cared about was finding the truth. If he had to switch sides to do that, then he would expose the liars while wearing an imitation attorney base.

“Yanni Yogi?” Phoenix asked, tentative.

“There is little sense in trying to hide it anymore.”

The judge did not bother with his gavel. It couldn’t stop the rabble.

“So was it you who killed Robert Hammond? And framed two people for different crimes?”

“Yes. It was me. I did it. As the boy said, it was revenge, for those fifteen years ago... They put me on the witness stand, Robert Hammond won his trial through the plea of insanity, of brain damage. He didn’t believe in my innocence, even though I was! And I lost everything because of it.”

“A-and your death? The currents around Dusky Bridge are notoriously strong.”

“A… genuine attempt. I don’t know how I survived, but the fact that I did made me believe I shouldn’t try again. I had been gifted a second chance. And then that package arrived, with the pistol, the letter. The opportunity to eradicate those who had wronged me!”

“And you took it.”

“Hammond asked me ‘why,’ when we started rowing towards the center of the lake, once he understood he’d lost too much blood.” Yogi’s voice trailed, and his hateful eyes slid over to Mr. Edgeworth. “And it’s because you just kept living your saccharine, happy-go-lucky life. Your career was intact even when Hammond tried to paint you a suspect. Then there was that appeal against him! Everyone claimed you were oh-so-virtuous, standing up for the man who had wronged you. But we both know if you actually cared you would have done something before I was dead. Then you replaced the son you supposedly doted on with two more. Neither of them can understand that they’re discardable and you’re hollow-”

“S-shut up!”

There was nothing else to say. Phoenix could only think to yell profanities, things which would get him removed from a court of law.

“You see? They’re so brainwashed that you could kick them halfway down the street and they would still chase after you like lost mutts.”

“That’s quite enough!” the judge reprimanded.

“He died happy you know. Happy that his death would destroy you.”

“Bailiff!”

“I have no regrets,” Yogi stated, as he was put into custody yet again. “Someone ask that idiot hot dog vendor to take care of Polly for me…”

No one said a word until Yogi had been led from the room.

“Well then.” The judge cleared his throat, and made a fuss of stacking papers. Phoenix couldn’t even bring himself to see what weird face von Karma would be making at him. “Mister Wright, are you crying in my courtroom again?”

“N-no Sir.” Phoenix fibbed, despite the tears that threatened to overwhelm him.

“Defendant, please take the stand. If neither side has an objection to raise, the court finds you…”

NOT GUILTY

“OBJECTION!”

“P-pardon me? Did someone just object?”

“The ruling is inaccurate, Your Honour. Yanni Yogi’s confession has made that much clear to me.”

“What do you mean?”

No way. Not after that mammoth of a trial. Mr. Edgeworth was absolutely not-

“The one behind the DL-6 incident, for the murder of my son, is me.”

If Phoenix hadn’t felt like crying before, he certainly did now.

Chapter Text

“I apologize Phoenix.” Mr. Edgeworth sighed this after half an hour’s recess was called. Nothing could make Phoenix want to punch the man more than that. “For keeping the truth from you.”

“That’s what you think I care about right now?!” Phoenix asked, turning over the DL-6 case file. “The whole ‘let’s keep multiple super important to the case secrets from Phoenix’ thing? I’ve tried to respect your personal space growing up, I always have, but you’re on trial.”

“When you grew older, the contempt you showed for criminals, for liars grew stronger. I didn't want you… to hate me as well. I-I tried to keep you out of this case-" his voice rose with insecurity, until it broke.

“You can cry about it when you’re not in prison!”

Phoenix was not in the mood to listen to his lame motives about keeping distance to prevent harm or whatever Mr. Edgeworth was rambling about. The incoming trial was the real problem now.

“Yogi…” Mr. Edgeworth hung his head. “Was right about me.”

Just the memory of Yogi’s words ignited a fire in Phoenix’s stomach. It was wrong, the man’s observations were coloured green in jealousy. The remarks had been designed to stick, barbed. He would just have to prove to the court Yogi was wrong, that Mr. Edgeworth wasn’t the murderer.

“That would imply Ray and I are like sons to you. And we already know what your opinion on that is.”

“Ngoh!”

Phoenix knew that had been cruel of him to say, even if it was the logical contradiction. Guilt followed, and Phoenix wished he hadn’t brought up the subject to begin with. Of course he wouldn't want to consider him or Ray close, given what had happened to Miles. The claims Mr. Edgeworth made of being an undeserving parent had a new twist to them.

“Please,” Phoenix said. “Tell me why you think you did it.”

The man swallowed hard, but didn’t refuse.

“I’ve had a recurring dream. A nightmare or so I desperately told myself.”

Phoenix bit back the temptation to yell about survivor’s guilt. Once they got out of this mess, he would book an appointment for Mr. Edgeworth with the therapist he began seeing after Dahlia.

“I know Yogi and I had begun arguing, about the air, and how much longer we would be able to last. He was panicking, and I heard the click of the safety on his gun being turned off. I remember taking it before he could try anything, and sliding it across the floor, away from us. Miles screamed something- I- that’s the last thing I heard him say. The oxygen deprivation got to me- and it must have been me. I was the last one to touch the gun,” he concluded.

“... I’m sorry this has been haunting your conscience.” Phoenix’s tone softened, since he genuinely was. The man was going through too much, and it wasn’t like he wanted to be angry with Mr. Edgeworth. “You don’t deserve-"

“I deserve far worse.”

“Nice try, but don't buy your dream as the truth of this case.”

“There is no other possibility! I moved the gun away from us, in the direction of my son!”

“What else do you remember about that day?”

“I had lost in court, defending Jeff Masters.”

“Yeah, Ray’s told me about him. He was convicted by von Karma.”

“Yes,” Mr. Edgeworth said, unable to hide his distaste. “He forged the autopsy report in that case, and was penalized for it.”

“He what?! You mean any of the evidence I had just been using in court could have been falsified?”

“I… could not tell you. He hadn't been caught for forgery before or since the IS-7 incident. Allegedly, the break von Karma took after the penalty was to consider his actions.”

“That sounds more fake than you being the culprit.”

Phoenix snapped the case file shut. Rereading the information for the umpteenth time wasn’t going to help him.

“I’m going to head down to the precinct and find the evidence for the case.”

“Phoenix?”

“Huh?” Phoenix turned around.

Mr. Edgeworth seemed crushed by the despair. Phoenix searched for traces of the quiet man, the good person Phoenix knew he was. All that was left seemed cavernous, empty- No. Yogi’s rant was designed to hurt, to make Mr. Edgeworth confess. He didn't know the real man.

“I understand if you don't want to take this case. What I have done, shouldn't be forgiven.”

“I just said I’m getting the evidence,” Phoenix said in exasperation.

Mr. Edgeworth looked at him, disbelieving.

“I’ll be back before you know it!”

Phoenix hailed a cab and tried not to feel the pinch in his wallet when it was time to pay. Time and sweat couldn’t afford to be wasted on running. He arrived and pulled a von Karma, fast-tracking his way through security with his prosecutor’s badge. The evidence room called.

With the statute of limitations nearly up on the case, it was fortunate that the box was still there. Opening it revealed everything was in place- the bailiff’s gun, the removed bullet. The weight of what was in the bag was enormous, multiplied tenfold by the knowledge of what it had caused.

The vault-like door to the evidence room shut. That in of itself was not too strange. Visitors could request to be shut in, if they would be searching for a while.

There was sound of metal sliding across metal, the grinding of the lock mechanism.

Phoenix knew pulling the fire alarm would automatically release it, and there was an intercom system. Causing a fire drill in the precinct of all places wasn’t a smart one. Everyone there had the powers of arrest.

Confused, Phoenix tucked what he was holding in his pocket, and walked towards the door. Just as he reached the end of the aisle, von Karma popped out, like an actor in a bizarre haunted house.

“Whoa!”

Phoenix’s eyes flicked to the strange-looking rod von Karma held. A press of the button made current flow through it, and jump between the two electrodes on the end.

“I-is that a cattle prod?” Phoenix asked, taking his first step back.

“Yes,” von Karma sneered. He took a forwards step for every of Phoenix’s backwards ones. “I originally purchased for my daughter as a present, to replace her whip. But it will work just as well on you.”

Especially since his taser was in evidence too.

“Repeat after me: I will not confront the people I suspect of murder,” Mr. Edgeworth’s voice lectured him.

Did von Karma know he suspected the man of writing the letter? That, given he knew where his daughter would be, and how he could hide the taser for Yogi to find, it was obvious?

“The box,” he instructed.

Not again!

“I will not confront the people I suspect of murder.”

Phoenix did as he was told; the prod arched and crackled with ominous purpose. Von Karma was still approaching. Phoenix put his arms up in surrender, and continued to retreat.

“Why don’t we confront the people we suspect of murder?”

“You have destroyed my perfect record, and nearly brought two penalties upon me in court,” von Karma went on. At last, Phoenix felt that he had come to the wall. There was nowhere else to run. “And now, I shall do the same to YOU!”

“Because I might get killed.”

Phoenix screamed.

How long was the prod held against him?

Ten seconds?

Thirty?

Phoenix just knew that his muscles twitched. He had lost all power of control, and tumbled, convulsing.

It was the eternity he would never forget.

Time didn't matter, by the point Phoenix blacked out; Nothing could have brought him to court before judgement was passed down.

He woke up to a nightmare world.

Mr. Edgeworth went to prison, believing he was guilty, that Phoenix hated him so much he abandoned the case.

Phoenix never found out what happened to Ray. For his involvement in spilling coffee on Blaise, he might have gone the way of Larry, when there was no place left for him to hide.

Regardless of whether that was the case, they disappeared.

Then his badge, the real one, was taken.

Phoenix was left with nothing in a dark, frigid wasteland. A world that had narrowed down into twin grave markers, set on the frosted grass.

FATHER

SON

The cemetery was dark as unconsciousness; black painting every surface, coating the cloudless sky, filling all with shadows. The colour of a funeral and the elevator and the inside of a coffin all rolled into a perfect package.

He should have cared about the exposure, should have. Phoenix was in his work clothes. No feathered parka would have prevented the trembling. He couldn’t stop. He relived the feeling of electrocution, scarcely able to move from the spot. The falling temperature made him shiver, curl into the instinctive position of vulnerability. The cold nipped at him with jagged teeth, and used its claws to rip past his thin shirt.

The glittering of the ice had been faint, with no true light to refract it. Then a ribbon of smoldering orange lined the horizon. The sliver widened, creeping up, hinting at what was to arrive.

“I failed.”

The sun broke over the landscape. Phoenix watched it, frozen and mesmerized. His eyes were watering, they were searing under its whiteness.

Suddenly, Phoenix didn’t feel cold. A sleepy warmth flowed through his body.

The sun grew, the light did with it.

"The problem with the brightest things is that they burn out faster than the rest of us."

And it was bright, so very painful in its brightness.

He couldn't see anymore.

BAD END

Chapter Text

It took persistent begging, but his parents could find no more chores for Phoenix to do, no more distractions. He was free to go to Miles' house. Phoenix had his super awesome gift- worth a month's allowance and a long time at his art table- ready. But his parents had made the wait seem like forever. They wanted to take pictures and make him call every relative in existence to say thank-you for presents.

Colourful tissue paper crinkled with his steps. Phoenix kicked up large puffs of snow using his heavy boots. The walk was a familiar one. Phoenix knew the streets to take by heart, even when their names weren't always readable to him. They had over ten letters sometimes, Phoenix knew that much.

When he reached the house, Phoenix only had to ring the doorbell three times. That was the minimum amount. The first was for telling the Edgeworths he was there. The second said, "Yes, you did hear the doorbell." The last showed he wasn't trying to sell something. Miles and his father were slowpokes. Mr. Edgeworth, like most grown-ups, was always tired. That meant he had to wake up, walk to the door, and see who was there. If Miles was reading, he needed to be "constantly heckled to answer" as his father put it.

"He was definitely reading," Phoenix decided. "Probably sideways."

Miles' hair was matted to one side, as if he had been laying down with the book.

"You look like a walking marshmallow."

The mean words also meant he was reading something he really liked. This was because Miles wanted to go back to his book.

"I brought presents!"

Miles stepped back to let him in. Phoenix started fighting with his coat and snow pants. It was a short walk to Miles', but his parents were afraid of him freezing to death.

As if that would ever happen.

Miles actually understood shoelaces; he undid them without comment to Phoenix. He beamed in thanks at his friend.

"Have you been out in the snow yet?"

"Father always tries to make me wear," Miles' voice lowered to a humiliated whisper. "That hat over there."

It did have a lot of pompoms. And the floppy dog ears matched the mittens. The hat seemed like the kind of thing a grown-up would buy to make someone their age look cute. Then they would take pictures, and send them to every family member, and bring them out when friends came over…

"We can go outside and bury it," Phoenix suggested. "It will be spring by the time he finds it!"

"I'll go get the shovel."

"Wait! Presents first!"

He looked at the present bag, and then the ugly fluffy hat. Miles kicked the hat into the closet as they walked to the living room.

"What do we…?"

Phoenix took the lead, sitting down by the most organized Christmas tree he had ever seen. That was at least true of the tree until a certain height. Miles couldn't reach there, so his father had done those parts. But it was nice. The fairy lights reflected off decorations in candy-coloured rainbows. Ornaments glittered with every tiny movement.

"Um, here," Miles said, tone funny.

Miles' job at wrapping the present was creased in places. Phoenix wondered how many tries it had taken him to reach that stage. Miles was… bad at any arts and crafts. One time in school, the class had made the thousand origami cranes for a project. His cranes turned out more like chicken fingers. Miles was stubborn, and refused help from him and Larry.

"Should we open together?" Phoenix asked, sliding over his own present. "That's er, what Larry and I do."

Actually Larry would have ripped through the paper by now.

"O-ok."

Both feeling self-conscious about the other's reaction, they were slow to tear curled ribbon bows and read cards. Phoenix kept his eyes a hair above his present. He wanted to see Miles' face. At the same time, wrapping paper beckoned him. Phoenix caved, and peeled back the layers to see the gift. Behind the box's clear plastic was a whip. He was confused, but figured Miles would explain like he always did.

With Miles' sharp inhale, Phoenix looked up.

"I-I made it!" Phoenix added with nervous excitement.

Miled cradled the badge in his cupped hands, right next to his heart. His cheeks were flush with delight.

"This is accurate beyond measure! You have the correct number of sunflower petals, and the balance of the scales is correct-"

"You can use it for practice until you get the real thing!"

"Y-yes! I will! There's no more need to borrow father's badge."

"What's this about my attorney's badge?" Mr. Edgeworth asked, peering into the room. "Oh! You didn't give me a chance to take pictures! Wait right there!"

Not more embarrassing photographs!

"Ngh! You need to go back now," Miles declared, scrambling to his feet.

"We can hide."

"There isn't time Phoenix!"

Phoenix was surprised by how strong his friend was. Miles grabbed his arms with the strength of an adult, hauling Phoenix up too.

"I-I know you've got flute practice in a bit-"

Fingers dug into his shoulders, and Phoenix winced in pain.

"You're hurting me!"

"Wright you fool!" Miles was waving the attorney's badge angrily now. Phoenix was alarmed when he realized his friend really did have the strength of an adult. He was taller and grumpier and von Karma's cravat was strangling his neck. "You need to leave here!"

"Edgeworth what the-?" Since when did he call Miles, Edgeworth?

When everything had been fine and wonderful under the lights before, the world twisted. Edgeworth was shaking and yelling at him about things he didn't understand.

"WAKE UP THIS INSTANT PHOENIX WRIGHT!"

And he did.

Phoenix woke to a world that wasn't dark, that wasn't cold. He was still being shaken- why couldn't his body stop shaking? Then he remembered.

The evidence room.

Von Karma and the cattle prod.

The nightmare, oh God the nightmare-

He needed to get to court before it was over!

Phoenix's eyes snapped open. Blue ones dotted with furious fires stared back. That didn't matter now though. Phoenix pushed away and tried to run. He fell back over.

"Fool!"

That voice, he recognized it!

It wasn't the time to think why. Phoenix got up and started to run again. His legs jerked, uncoperative. His flesh was like jello, twisting and shuddering against his will.

"Stop it!" Arms hooked around him in a common restraining pose. "You're going to cause more damage."

"L-let go! I need to get to court! Lemme' go!"

"I've called ahead! They know you will be delayed!"

"W-wha-?"

The adrenaline wore off, and Phoenix dropped to his helpless knees.

"Franziska?"

"Phoenix Wright," she sighed, brushing stray locks of hair from her face.

"How long was I out? I need to get back to court!"

"You need medical attention," Franziska said, gesturing to his chest. There was a burnt hole in the middle left of his shirt. Phoenix came to the understanding that the flesh beneath it felt like rug burn times a million. "And, as I already told you, they know to extend the recess."

"What," Phoenix wanted to relax, but couldn't. The experience, the nightmare had been so real. "What happened?"

"I was there to watch the trial," Franziska confessed. "I saw that my Papa had been defeated, and I witnessed him following you from the court."

"Was Franziska worrying about me? I really have died."

"Your face is an open book."

"Maybe…" Phoenix thought about the taser, and Franziska's role in Ray's trial. Phoenix was certain von Karma had been the mastermind. "Could she have deduced that?"

"An ambulance will be coming soon."

"I don't have time for that." Phoenix shook his head. He got to wobbling feet and inched to the door by holding shelves. "I'm the only one who can stand in court."

"Stand is an exaggeration," Franziska grabbed Phoenix's coat from the ground. She had kept it under his head, a cushion to prevent damage while he was out. "Such determination is bad for your health."

Phoenix got out the exit. Franziska followed, but wasn't trying to stop him anymore.

"What about the ambulance?"

"Cancel it."

As he limped to the front door, Badd barged in. His dark eyes were wide, and he was breathing hard.

"Kid, good, you've got the evidence. I figured... von Karma would have destroyed it first."

Phoenix wondered if Badd noticed how Franziska tensed.

"About that-"

"You're… joking."

"There has to be something else not kept in storage, testimony from detectives-"

"The gun and bullet were… irreplaceable."

"Why would von Karma take them though?" Phoenix asked. "If anything, they would make his case easier."

"He obviously realizes something you do not," Franziska spoke up. It was Badd's turn to appear discomforted. He hooked his thumbs in his belt loops, and kept his measuring gaze an inch above her eyes. "A contradiction."

"Like what?"

"They may have different ballistic markings, or the bullet's shape is inconsistent with impact upon the-"

"Heart," Phoenix stiffly answered. "It was in his heart."

"Exactly."

"That leaves… a question."

"What?"

"Your father was on… vacation. How would he know?"

"Fool!" Franziska didn't have anything to hit Detective Badd with. Phoenix wondered if she would pick him up and use his hair as a weapon. It wouldn't be the first time someone had done so. "How DARE you question my Papa's flawless methods?"

"...Z'at what he says… when you ask him things?"

She went pink and didn't answer.

"She probably knows her father's way of thinking best," Phoenix said.

"Fair."

Phoenix got outside, flinching as he pushed the door. Something had been jarred in his shoulder when he fell. The door felt heavy, and he was huffing for breath.

"What's... that about?" Badd asked, narrowing his eyes.

"W-what's what?" Phoenix asked, changing the subject. "Could you give me a lift to court?"

"Remind me again why you don't have your driver's license."

"You don't know how to drive?" Franziska laughed.

"Do you ever use yours?" Phoenix snidely questioned. "Not all of us can afford to be chauffeured everywhere."

"No, some of us just mooch off others for rides."

"It's carpooling."

Badd put a hand on his shoulder, to stop things from escalating. The backlash of pain was enough to make Phoenix accept quiescence.

"You're doing… it… again."

"Franziska are you coming back with us to court?"

Franziska just raised an eyebrow. She wasn't impressed with his lame method to avoid telling Badd what happened. Nor was she impressed when he sped-walk the remaining distance to the car, so he had a claim of the front seat.

"Kid."

"Yeees?"

A tug at the car door revealed it was locked, and probably would remain so until he gave a straight answer.

"What are you hiding?"

"Me? Hiding something?" Phoenix batted his eyelashes. "Don't worry, it's not important to Mister Edgeworth's case in any way!"

Badd swore, and then looked at the snowy pavement.

"Gregory told me something… at a vulnerable... point… But it was just… a nightmare."

Phoenix could guess what sort of a vulnerable point that was. He chose the high road, and didn't tease Badd about it.

"Detective," Franziska began. Her words were slow, methodical, like she was stringing interesting facts together. "You refer to Phoenix Wright as 'kid.'"

"For as long as I've known him."

"You are a close associate to both his mentor and father."

"Should I even protest the definition at this point?"

The detective mumbled an affirmation, more interested in his sweets than the daughter of a man he didn't like.

"It is correct of me to infer then, that you care about Phoenix Wright's wellbeing."

"What's it to you?" Badd asked, not a little defensive.

"Papa assaulted him with a cattle prod in the evidence room."

Badd's lollipop fell from his mouth. It landed in a snowbank with an underwhelming "plop." Orange dye leached into the snow.

"And you're still... walking? Gregory is going to kill me... if I let you get hurt!"

"Tattletale!"

"It had to be said."

"You're not sitting shotgun... anymore," Badd declared, unlocking the car. Phoenix was shepherd back, and Franziska was happy to take his place in the front. "Where'd you get hit?"

"It's fine," Phoenix said, rolling his eyes. Badd did his seatbelt for him, in clear disagreement over the issue. "I need to get to court before everyone's impatient with me-"

"Has the indictment been made yet?"

They stared at each other upon remembering this.

"I knew there was something we were forgetting."

"I must admit," the judge began. "There have been an unprecedented number of twists in this case. I've never experienced anything like it in my career."

When Phoenix entered, von Karma had only gone clammy pale for a moment. Then he recovered, finding the hatred which had driven him this far. He was throwing darts with his eyes. His motions were stiff, as if he were suggesting to Phoenix what would happen to him again, while stacking papers.

"Mister Wright, what was the reason for your absence?"

"I apologize, it was a bit of a personal problem."

"The person you had call ahead to notify was quite persuasive," the judge added.

"That sounds like Franziska."

"Now, as I was saying, we are meeting here under very unusual circumstances. Mister Edgeworth, you've always conducted yourself graciously in this court, and been involved with making the community safer. I find it hard to believe that you would-"

"Objection! What you believe is irrelevant! He has confessed, and the proof shows that if Yanni Yogi is not the killer, then he is!"

"Yes, about that confession, I would like to hear it in more detail. But first, Prosecutor von Karma, I would ask that you review-"

Von Karma's short fuse had just about reached its limits. There was no sense left in waiting for the judge to say what they already knew, or so Phoenix assumed von Karma was thinking.

"On December 28, 2001, there was an earthquake. Three people were in this courthouse's elevator at the time: the deceased, the murderer and father, as well as a bailiff. The elevator was stuck between floors for approximately three hours. Rescue teams arrived to find the victim was dead of a gunshot to the heart," von Karma tossed the old autopsy report on top of the case summary. "Ballistic testing shows the bullet was from the gun the bailiff was carrying on him. That is all."

"I see. Defendant, what do you have to say for yourself?"

Von Karma wasn't the only one who could interrupt at bad times.

"Hold it!"

"You ought to hold your tongue," von Karma suggested. "Or I will rip it out for you and we will see how well it works as Gourdy bait."

After what had happened in the evidence room, Phoenix didn't doubt that he would.

"Mister Wright, there has been nothing said which can be held back as you so loudly put it," the judge stressed.

"There is."

"And what would that be?"

"The state of the people in the elevator, and how they arrived at that point."

"Judge, you handle this," von Karma declared. "It is not worth-"

"Your time. We know."

The prosecutor had a strange interest with time, almost as strong as his perfection. He was impatient, and as Franziska had mentioned, it was to the point where he didn't bother with going through security.

"O-oh! Me?" The judge scanned the pages on his desk. "They were unconscious from oxygen deprivation, I see that in the finer details. What are you suggesting?"

"It is crystal clear he wanted to imply it is impossible for Gregory Edgeworth to be the killer due to unconsciousness. However, as already established, they were trapped for three hours."

"That was not what I was going to ask about," Phoenix contradicted. "Elevators aren't sealed boxes. They have their own ventilation systems, so why did they run out of oxygen?"

"Moron! Did you even glance at the government inquiry into the incident?"

"I did. What I want to know is why you didn't bring it up in your summary."

"Don't change the subject. Did you look at it?"

"As a studying lawyer, it's very important to do your homework," the judge said, as if his two cents had been needed. "You will not go far without it!"

Phoenix could feel another penalty threatening him. He looked at the report in more detail, so he could accurately explain what was in it.

"The government was worried about there being a design flaw in the elevator," Phoenix told the court. "Yogi based his plea of insanity off oxygen deprivation, so they had to look into it, because they believed it had caused massive brain damage. If there was a fault, they could have been sued, and any similar models would have to be replaced.

Forensic engineers reported that it was a matter of heavy stone dust settling on the ventilation cover over a period of hours. They've got a timeline and the equations showing their estimates of how long it would take for the oxygen concentration to be deadly."

00:00 - 18.9%

00:30 - 15.3%

01:30 - 11.7%

02:30 - 6.01%

03:30 - 1.75%

"Mister Wright, what do those numbers mean?" the judge asked, with his customary confusion.

"The footnote here says the average amount of oxygen in the air is 20.9%. The minimum to live is 19.5%. Between the 6% and 9% range will likely knock you out. Anything below 6% will see you killed in a matter of time."

"That is very interesting scientific data. Much better than that detective's information about the body!"

"Glad to have been of help, Your Honour."

"Pointless trivia! What person would ever need to know such details in real life?"

Phoenix had half a mind to tell von Karma to chill. It would have the opposite effect, but it still would be entertaining to see him flounder.

"I mean, the government paid a team of five engineers to compile this report about the elevator."

"Useless!" he countered. "Utterly useless! We will now move on to the confession!"

Phoenix thought of pressing von Karma about where the gun and bullet were. But he had escaped unscathed for distracting the court with interesting scientific data once. A second red herring might not go over well.

The nightmare was retold, in all of its sorry detail: Being trapped in the elevator, how the air had taken on a gradual, leaden feeling to it, the longer they remained inside. There was the short argument with Yogi about the air, and the sound of him turning safety off his gun. Just like before, he started to falter when it came to Miles.

"I am not a good person, Your Honour. I'm guilty."

The judge shook his head, snapping out of a tragedy-induced daze.

"This is quite distressing information. The evidence we have suggests that only you or Yanni Yogi could be the perpetrator. However, I am not certain of how to proceed from here."

"Proceed with your verdict, one of guilt."

"Is cross-examination not a thing anymore?" Phoenix reminded.

"He has already confessed! What are you going to do, ask the man about what he did while unconcious?"

"I can think of a lot more we need to know."

They looked to the judge for his decision on the matter.

"Unsurprising," ruled the judge.

Von Karma grumbled something incoherent. Phoenix did his best to let go of the anger that had come from fighting. He softened his voice, knowing the subject was a delicate one for them both.

"To start, I want to know what the layout of the elevator was like," Phoenix said, bringing up the photo of the crime scene. At first, it appeared Miles had pulled off his bowtie to breathe easier, that it was red in colour. Then the understanding began to sink in. His body was in the left corner adjacent to the doors, and the gun by his feet. There was no other way to put this. "Where were you sitting?"

"Diagonal from M-Mi-"

"What we'll call the bottom right corner then," Phoenix gently concluded for him. "By the panel for the buttons."

"Y-yes."

"Where was Yogi?"

"To my left."

"It was dark. How could you actually tell this, and know the gun was pushed in his direction?"

"My eyes adjusted enough to see silhouettes, and I could hear the direction of their voices."

"Do you remember what Miles said?"

"My recollection of it is shaky, I only know parts. He said, 'Get away from m- father.'"

"M?"

"I don't know what that part was."

"The boy was likely saying, 'Get away from me father!'" von Karma supplied. "He is the murderer after all."

"Ngh!"

Then there was no contradiction in where the gun had been pushed. It slid in Miles' direction. His first theory of the case had been destroyed in a blink. Phoenix tried not to feel too discouraged. It was a truth, and he needed to know what was the truth so that he could expose the rest.

"Are you satisfied, having wasted our-"

"Blah, blah, time."

Time, it actually was a good place to start looking for flaws.

"If only these math formulae weren't so complicated," Phoenix thought, on the verge of weeping. He didn't know what half of the squiggly lines and weird dashes were supposed to symbolize. "Larry was right to criticize my math skills."

"Is something the matter?"

"The math is the matter Your Honour."

"There is a contradiction in the science you explained?"

"No, I can't read what half of this mumbo-jumbo means."

"Tell us! Or it shall be your head on a pike!"

Phoenix personally would have preferred to stick to penalties.

"I knew he was imagining doing that to me earlier! Now, think Phoenix, think. I should stick to the summary, the stuff I can actually get. What's wrong with this information?"

00:00 - 18.9%

00:30 - 15.3%

01:30 - 11.7%

02:30 - 6.01%

03:30 - 1.75%

"It says here that within two and a half hours, the oxygen concentration would reach 6.01%. But if that's true, then there is no way anyone could have been alive three hours later. The average human can only live five minutes without oxygen!"

"They're estimates," von Karma reminded. "Are you so mathematically inept that you've never heard of a margin of error?"

"That number would have to be huge for them to be alive closer to three hours!" Phoenix added. Stirring arose in the court. No one was sure what this did to the facts of the case. But Phoenix had a theory, a bare bones idea, of what this could mean. "There had to be a tiny supply of oxygen."

"How could that be possible?"

"A hole."

Von Karma laughed spitefully. Then he snapped at Phoenix, stern yet again.

"You're suggesting that a group of trained engineers overlooked a hole when making their analysis?"

"Maybe they thought the rescue team caused it, when prying apart the doors."

"The only hole in this case is the one where your brain should be," von Karma replied. "Answer this: how did a hole come to be? Where was it?!"

"It would be in the elevator window. A bullet couldn't pass through the walls or ceiling, just dent them. Glass on the other hand-"

"Order!" The judge banged his gavel. "Mister Wright, you can't nonchalantly suggest that the gun was fired and move to other subjects like that!"

"Sorry Your Honour, but I think I'm on to something."

"Ridiculous! The murderer sat with his back to the windows, as your diagram portrays. It is not possible that he misfired and hit them!"

"I wasn't suggesting that."

"You what?"

"What I'm saying is that the victim fired it!"

"There was no reason to!"

"Think about what the victim had yelled: He wasn't saying, 'Get away from me, father!'" He was saying, 'Get away from my father!'"

There were scandalized gasps in the court, and Von Karma actually smiled at that.

"Like father like son, you are suggesting Miles Edgeworth attempted to murder Yanni Yogi-"

Phoenix stopped that possibility before Mr. Edgeworth could become any more miserable.

"Shut up would you? Miles' prints weren't on the gun, or you would have been brought up by this point."

Hatred returned to his face and he recoiled, frustrated he could not bring that possibility out.

"This has me confused," the judge said. "You believe Miles Edgeworth fired the gun and made a hole in the window as a result, but also that his fingerprints are not on it."

"His prints wouldn't be on it, at least, not in the usual places, if he had thrown it towards the adults. Besides," Phoenix coyly looked at von Karma as he said this. "It's not like we have the gun here to disprove the theory now."

With the revelation, his face set in a bitter grimace. To keep from yelling whatever epithets came to mind, von Karma held his forearm.

"If that is true, then where is the bullet?"

"I-It was taken!"

"By whom?"

"The murderer."

"How would he have found it? It's not easy to find a stray bullet, Mister Wright!"

"Uh…"

"Maybe it went on vacation," von Karma mocked. "That's about as plausible as everything else you have perpetuated."

Phoenix shoved his hands into his pockets, and looked away, abashed. His case was beginning to lose steam. As Phoenix wriggled his fingers, trying to rid himself of some of the tension, he felt something in his pocket. There was slippery plastic, and something cold, reasonably weighty.

Oh.

OH.

Phoenix remembered the moment in clear detail.

Phoenix tucked what he was holding in his pocket, and walked towards the door. Just as he reached the end of the aisle, von Karma popped out, like an actor in a bizarre haunted house.

This entire time, he had been carrying the bullet.

Carrying… the bullet…

"You're right von Karma," Phoenix's grin was downright maniacal, stretching from ear to ear. "The bullet did go on vacation!"

"Mister Wright! Do you need me to call a recess?" the judge asked nervously.

"I'm fine Your Honour," Phoenix said, placing his hands on his hips. "I've just figured everything out. The killer had to take the bullet, because they were shot! They would have to leave with the bullet still in their body!"

The viewers couldn't even make remarks to their neighbours. No one wanted to miss what would be said next.

"Mister Wright, you are truly the most unpredictable defense attorney- no, prosecutor- you are truly the most unpredictable lawyer I have ever known. You're still learning, and reaching, obviously, but the possibility of what you say cannot be denied."

Von Karma was incredulous.

"You're agreeing with him?"

"I must hear this out."

"The bullet went on vacation. Six month's vacation, starting the day after the DL-6 incident."

The silence of the room was agonizing and slow. It dawned upon the judge what Phoenix was saying, but even then, he had to work up the nerve to say it.

"M-Mister Wright? Are you suggesting Manfred v-von K-"

"I'm not suggesting anything, I'm outright telling you!"

"I-I s-s-" the judge raised his gavel, preparing to hide his face from the coming storm. "See. Y-your response?"

"Bah."

Everyone flinched.

"Y-you don't object?"

"I feel no need. Prove I was injured, which doctor I underwent surgery with! Check my medical records!"

Von Karma wasn't bluffing. There would be no evidence, sticking to his "perfect" nature. Phoenix knew the man was intense, but doubted he fished around in his own flesh for a bullet. He would still need treatment, things like antibiotics and a blood donor. But that meant…

"Is Detective Gumshoe present?"

"I'm here pal!" called a voice from the stands.

"Is that offer to use your secret investigative weapons still open? I'd like to borrow the metal detector. We'll see what we don't find on you then von Karma!"

Sputtering protests began from the prosecution's side of the room.

"Hrk! I do not consent to such an invasion of privacy!"

"With the statute of limitations running out today, I'm afraid you'll have to," the judge decided. "Mister Wright you have my permission to use it."

Gumshoe pushed himself through the fray of people. He bent over the edge of the stands, holding out the metal detector for Phoenix to take. As Phoenix approached, he could see the prosecutor was twitching, daring him to walk closer. The memory of being cornered almost made Phoenix want to stop; he pushed past it, knowing this evidence would bring it all to a close. Beeps increased in their frequency and shrillness, until the detector was overtop von Karma's shoulder.

"There, you have found it," he said, flecks of spit showering from his curled lip. "Now prove that it has relation to the DL-6 incident."

Molten pain exploded in his chest. Von Karma had poked him over the heart, over the position of the burn. The accusing hand lingered there. Phoenix's thinking became hazy; he clenched his teeth to keep a grip.

"Like match ballistics to it?" Phoenix replied, with faux innocence.

"The box containing the evidence has already been thrown out, as the statute of limitations ends today," von Karma said, confident in his victory. "A… shock, I know."

Phoenix paused, allowing his declaration to sink in with the court. Then, he grinned in return, the most impish face he could make while his eyes watered.

"It's a good thing I managed to snag the bullet then, don't you think?"

Von Karma's face contorted. The sound coming from his agape mouth was one Phoenix wished he would never hear again. The entire courtroom appeared to shake, or maybe it was Phoenix's legs, his own body, turning helpless at the mercy of the constricting around his neck.

"After the evidence room today, I see his vengeance inside of you; mimicking the logic and tricks of your father. You- you left a scar on my shoulder that would never fade!" His fingers pressed against the tissue of Phoenix's throat, squeezing with the power of their hatred. Phoenix's arms, weak from the earlier attack, flopped useless at his sides. "I will end your family line no matter how you come back Miles Edgeworth! I'll... I'll bury you! I'll bury you with my bare hands! Death! DEATH!"

The left hook came in swift and fierce. It smashed into von Karma's jaw, and worked its way up to his nose. Cartilage snapped, a dull sound. He made a gurgling howl, blood trickling from his nostrils and lip.

"Leave my family the hell alone!"

Mr. Edgeworth wiped off his knuckles, face scrunched in distaste. Suddenly, the pain wasn't even a factor on Phoenix's radar. People were bending over him, touching his neck and chest.

"Phoenix?" Mr. Edgeworth's hand waved before his eyes. "Phoenix? Why is he grinning like that?"

"Phoenix Wright!"

"Ah!"

Franziska's imposing voice was enough to reduce his ecstaticism. Phoenix abruptly sat up, and dusted himself off. Von Karma was being wrangled into handcuffs.

"I'm good," he wheezed, standing. "Let's hear the verdict!"

"M-Mister Wright, please, maybe you should go to a hospital first-"

"I've been through worse."

"Yes, well, if everyone could resume position…" They did. People concerned with him returned to the visitor's gallery. The defendant was standing before his chair. "It appears that we have come a very long way to the end of this maze. Fifteen years later… Mister Gregory Edgeworth?"

"Yes, Your Honour?"

"Your doubts, your nightmare, is unfounded."

He nodded, too overcome for words.

"You are innocent. You always have been. The court has ruled that you are…"

NOT GUILTY

Phoenix got a bed next to Ray's on the clinic's third floor. There were burns on his chest, and he would experience discomfort for the next little bit. A ring of purple bruising had swollen his neck. Finally, his shoulder had been dislocated when he fell. All in all, not too bad of a track record. It added some diversity.

"Maybe it will be impalement or falling from a height next," Phoenix cheerfully concluded.

"Nick," Ray groaned. "Don't talk like that. You're going to curse yourself!"

"That's what happens when you're a smart-aleck."

Phoenix's grin faded.

"Sir," said a nurse. "You can't be smoking in a hospital space-"

"Nephew!" Blaise arrived, his arms full with a ridiculous bouquet. A get-better card was attached, and Phoenix couldn't tell which part of the gift was more insincere. "I heard about what happened to you! So tragic! Your parents asked me to stop by and make sure any medical expenses are taken care of for them."

"Tragic is interesting," Phoenix replied. "Isn't it?"

Blaise's measuring stare fell upon Ray, calculating and mute. Then his false exuberance returned, and he was just another visitor.

"You beat Manny von Karma twice in court and took him down for murder," he proudly said. "Impressive, really. I believe it's safe to say there are no… hard feelings."

Blaise swept him up in a hug, taking care to squeeze the shoulder which had been dislocated. He shed a few crocodile tears, and then excused himself from the room, due to his busy schedule.

It was good to know that part of his nightmare would not come true.

"One day, Uncle, it will be your turn to take the defendant's chair."

But that was another story entirely.

There was bustling in the hall. The leader of the group was Franziska. She entered and took its only chair without shame. Detective Gumshoe was next, and Mr. Edgeworth was behind him. There was a mixture of greetings; none of them knew who should begin talking first, beyond Franziska.

"I went ahead, and had the charges for assault filed," she told him, smoothing out an invisible wrinkle on her skirt. "Prosecutor Faraday was right when he said involvement is helpful for closure."

"T-that's good."

But would she be? Franziska would scoff and ignore him just for thinking it, but he wondered how fine she was going to be.

"I, for one would like to know what happened," Mr. Edgeworth chimed in. "Why did Tyrell carry you into court? When I tried to ask him he ran off."

"I mean, I didn't have to be carried."

"Yes you did."

"Detective Gumshoe what brings you here?" Phoenix pleasantly asked.

Gumshoe was smiling and answering before the others could jump on Phoenix for changing the subject.

"Somebody stopped by the precinct the other day pal, they wanted me to give this to you."

Gumshoe held out a flyer. It was advertising the debut of the Berry Big Circus' country-wide tour. Performers and animals were spread across the front, caught in various acts. Confused as to why someone had wanted to give this to him, Phoenix turned it over. On the blank side, there was a note.

Hey Nick,

Laying low for a bit. Send my Christmas present plus standard interest through the mail.

~LB

"Larry," Phoenix groaned. Looking at the picture again, he noticed there was a masked performer and his parrot. "Should I even try to tell him he's safe now?"

"Also, I'm Miss von Karma's ride to work for the foreseeable future," Gumshoe continued.

"Hypocrite!" thought Phoenix.

"Is that all you wanted to say to him, Scruffy?"

"Y-yeah, er, wait, I mean, congratulations on the not-guilty verdict! A-and get better soon!"

"Rest up," Franziska added, waiting for Gumshoe to hold open the door. "I want a good rival in the prosecutor's office."

The sudden existential dread was worse than all of the torture Phoenix had been through before. Couldn't they avoid the rivalry thing?

"H-hold it! I've lost before!"

Franziska was already past the threshold. Over her shoulder, she threw a parting remark, "Not when it counts."

Mr. Edgeworth fell to the chair Franziska had occupied not seconds ago.

"I should be thanking you right now," he said. "But I don't think that would cover what you have truly done."

"M-Mister Edgeworth-"

"For fifteen years, I have dealt with this all-consuming guilt. You have freed me from that, at least a little."

"Just a little?" Phoenix joked.

He laughed in return, but it was more sad, than teasing.

"I still let my son die."

"You couldn't have stopped it!"

"You've made me see that," he soothed. Yet there was a distant, longing tone in what he spoke. "As a father, I can't help but feel as if I've failed. That is a sentiment which many parents of my situation share. Children believe that adults are omnipotent, that we are all-powerful. We are expected to know what we are doing, to protect, even when fate is something outside of our ability to control."

Was that what the DL-6 incident had really been? A matter of fate; something which couldn't be prevented, no matter how the world shifted?

If something had been done to reopen Dahlia's case, to change what he knew about her, Phoenix was certain he would wonder similar things. Questions would no doubt plague the man for the rest of his life. The hypotheticals. The things which could have been. That was the nature of loss.

"I understand." Things would get better with time, he knew. Phoenix decided to lighten the mood some. "Hey Ray, did I mention that this case finally got Mister Edgeworth to swear, in open court?"

"He WHAT?" Ray asked in delight. After the coffee incident, Ray had been banned from coming back to court until he was healthy again. Phoenix had filled him in on the essentials, but left this particular detail out. "And I missed it?"

"My emotions overcame me," he stammered, going red.

"He said it while punching von Karma in the face!"

"Whooop! Go Mister Edgeworth!" Ray cheered. "You'll be known by clients and attorneys everywhere as the most badass lawyer around!"

"Whooop!" Phoenix joined in.

"Both of you will only hurt yourselves yelling like that," Mr. Edgeworth warned.

"Then I guess you'll have to do the cheering for us," Ray suggested.

Mr. Edgeworth, sensing he was outnumbered, gave a tiny, mortified, "Whooop!"

"You know," he fidgeted, adjusting his tie. "Beating von Karma will be quite good for your reputation."

"Maybe for Phoenix Wright the defense attorney. I'm not sure how well that will look on my CV as a prosecutor."

"Ah… So you're sticking to prosecution then?"

"Fun as it was, presenting this badge to everyone, I got it on loan," Phoenix replied. "Why, were you hoping I'd switch which side of the bench I'm on?"

"It's not that Son, I respect your choice to be a- nghoooh!"

So his earlier outburst hadn't been a slip of the tongue. Phoenix and Ray looked at each other with giddy expressions.

"I get it Pops, it was just a mistake."

"No hard feelings Dad."

"Alright!" He pulled a tissue from the box, and waved it like a white flag of surrender. "You got me. Maybe I do consider you like sons."

"Get a load of our old man," Ray laughed, pointing. "'Maybe,' is all he says, just 'maybe.'"

"That also means I can ground you for all of the hair-brained stunts you pulled in this case."

Then Phoenix and Ray shared identical looks of horror. They had done a lot of that.

"Also, Raymond, I've wanted to tell you to get a proper haircut for the past ten years, but it wasn't my place."

"W-what's wrong with my hair?"

"And Phoenix, you can't come crying to me every time your brother does something to bother you."

"B-but-"

"Well." Mr. Edgeworth stood up, grin widening a touch. This made it apparent he had just been teasing them. "I believe there has been enough excitement recently. I would also like to shower, and sleep in my own bed."

Ray and Phoenix agreed, now remembering they were exhausted from the past four days as well. Promises were given; to stop aggravating their injuries, to meet up at the office the next day. Phoenix wriggled into starchy, hospital-issue pyjamas. His poor old shirt was tossed out. Even if there wasn't the burn hole in it, the pits had been ruined from all his sweating.

Phoenix was careful to check his pockets for valuables, and unpin the attorney's badge. It perched on the windowsill, where the falling sun could reflect off its golden sides, and make it glow. At last, Phoenix dropped into a well-deserved rest. There were no nightmares, just blissful, relaxing sleep.

Though Phoenix had his suspicions, he never learned who took the attorney's badge that night. A sole clue was left by the perpetrator; fingers had smudged and etched a message into the leaves of frost on the window.

Thank-you.

Fin