Yes, folks, I am once again de-noning myself. This began as a prompt on the PWKM, and as usual took off like crazy. Here's the kink, and the fill follows:

"AU. Dahlia got away with murdering Doug and then later successfully poisoned Phoenix. After that she disappeared. Iris is heartbroken because Phoenix is now in a coma, but has finally begun to feel something besides sadness and guilt toward her sister. During a visit to the hospital, she bumps into Mia. She manages to convince her that she's not Dahlia - maybe she recognizes her as a Fey, perhaps from her sister's or Bikini's descriptions or just from seeing her wearing a magatama. (and just avoids being eviscerated by Mia...heh.)

They agree to team up to find Dahlia and bring her to justice! Somehow."

~* A Family Matter *~

Chapter One: Strange Introductions

Iris sat like a statue, dry-eyed, and gazed out the window. I can only do this for so much longer before it really starts driving me mad, she thought. He wouldn't want that.

She imagined looking at herself from somewhere near the door: poised lightly on the edge of the chair, spine straight and shoulders back, the perfect image of composure. Her alabaster skin contrasted with her bright hair, which was still red, bleached and dyed to the color of Dahlia's: why should she give up her sister's life now? I probably look, thought Iris, like a wax figure.

Iris knew, more by instinct than by looking at the clock, that her allotted visiting time was coming to an end. She stood up, and with a little thrill of fear, wondered if she could say something to the man in the bed—or look at him. It had been two weeks since Dahlia had sent him into this everlasting sleep, and Iris hadn't looked at her lover's face since the first day. She would just walk in, find his hand, sit silently for a while, then leave. No one ever spoke to her, and she never talked to him. Then again, it was the terminal wing of a witness-protection facility, and most of the other visitors were the same.

Well, she was stopping into Kurain Village on the way back to Hazakura. Seeing the other nuns might distract her from the grief. I'll have to do it sooner or later... it might as well be on a day like today, she thought. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut and took a deep breath, then opened them and looked down at him.

Phoenix had always been lanky, but now he was so painfully thin that she could see the bones pressing against the skin on his temples, flanked by delicate blue veins. She'd expected it, of course: like a witch in a fairy tale, she'd felt his fingers growing thinner and thinner as the days went by. But she pressed a hand to her mouth at the sight, stifling a sob.

Her other hand went out, the fingers all but ready to gently trace the sharp lines of his jaw—to smooth the unruly hair from his forehead—God, he hated his hair to be anywhere near his face—was it her imagination, or was it turning grey?—to draw her fingers down the length of his brows—

Iris pulled back the hand and covered her face, sobbing in earnest now. The image of his skeletal face remained in her mind, his eyes forever closed to the world and his breathing maintained by a machine. Dahlia had killed Phoenix, and Iris knew couldn't do anything to bring him back.

She let go his hand and fled.

Mia seethed. She wasn't used to feeling so completely helpless. Defense attorneys, it was true, didn't have the access to crime scenes or witnesses that prosecutors did, and more than once she'd felt like banging her head off a wall in frustration.

But this was ridiculous. Mia had offered to help the police force with the Ivy University investigation, and had repeatedly explained to the detectives that she'd been an attorney in the Fawles case last year. "I have absolutely no doubt that the two young men were killed by Dahlia Hawthorne," she argued. "After all, one dated her until about eight months ago, and the other had been dating her ever since!"

The lead detective merely raised an eyebrow and sighed. "Look, Miss Fey... you may not realize this is coming across as a personal vendetta of yours. Some of us knew Valerie Hawthorne, too, and we were real sorry to hear what happened to your co-worker."

"But I—"

He held up a firm hand, and Mia was smart enough to know when to shut up. "Miss Fey. The fact remains that we have no evidence tying Ms. Hawthorne to the recent incidents at Ivy University, besides her presence at the university and mere personal connections to the victims. If the second victim ever wakes up, we will certainly ask him about her: but until then, we cannot proceed without evidence. And until then, both of them will be referred to as accident victims."

Mia gaped. "You mean—you mean one of them survived?"

"Yes," he said coolly. "The first accident victim was electrocuted, and but the second survived a severe poisoning. Unfortunately, like your friend last year, he is in no condition to be giving statements. He is in a very well-protected place until recovery. Now please, Miss Fey, leave this matter to the police. Don't contact us again unless you have hard evidence."

She couldn't have responded if she'd tried. Like your friend last year... she had almost left the police station by the time she realized what it meant. "Oh my God," she whispered aloud. Diego was still alive.

And that meant he had to be in the same witness-protection facility as the second young man, the one who had survived Dahlia. At first she had been exhilarated: my God, if he was still alive, that meant they could fight Dahlia, could team up again to catch her! Mia's heart practically stopped at the memory of his smile, and the imagined sensation of his arms around her. They'd had such a short time together, before...

Then the smile faded from her face, and a rush of nausea almost made her throw up. It had been eight months, and if he were still in 'no state to be making statements,' as the detective had put it. She didn't even want to imagine Diego's condition, if he were so badly off that he hadn't contacted her since then.

She'd already cried. Now, having coaxed Grossberg into revealing the only witness-protection hospital in the state, she sat in the front seat of the car (borrowed from her aunt) in the parking lot, absolutely seething. It was a wonder the plastic didn't melt off the steering wheel, she thought vaguely. But if she tried to walk through the front door, she would be asked for credentials and promptly arrested.

The front door to the facility open suddenly, and a young girl dashed out. Mia watched as the girl collapsed into a bench near the door, obviously trying to hide the fact that she was crying. As she sniffled, reaching into her purse for a tissue, Mia froze.

The next thing she knew, she had opened the car door, jumped out, slammed it behind her, and stalked over to where the girl sat. She seized Dahlia's arm, and barked, "Don't you dare move, you little bitch! I'm calling for the police!"

It seemed like such a perfect, serendipitous twist of fate that she could hardly believe her luck. As she fumbled for her phone, the girl looked up, eyes horrified and hollow in her little face. Mia started: it wasn't Dahlia.

"Wh-what do you want?" cried the girl, and Mia reflexively let go of her arm. No, not Dahlia: the same little face, an identically thin body, and even the same braids in her red hair. But it wasn't Dahlia: Mia didn't even need the jeans and t-shirt to tell her that.

"I'm sorry," Mia said, feeling her lips go numb with shock. Who could the girl be? "I'm so sorry, I thought you were—um, someone else. Who are you?"

The fact that Mia probably had no right to ask the last question didn't occur to the girl. "Iris," she said, sniffling. "My name is Iris Fey."

Mia swallowed, feeling a little sick. "Did you say... Fey?" This had to be a dream. Someone with Dahlia's face... and Maya's voice.

"Mm-hmm," said the girl, nodding. "I'm... well, I was..." She looked bemused, and looked at Mia nervously. Then she stood up, dusting off her jeans and thrusting out her chin bravely, fists clenched. "Wait, I don't know why I said that. My name is Dahlia. D-Dahlia Hawthorne!"

A thrill of fear and doubt shot through Mia, although it was obvious that the girl lied. "If that's the case," she said through clenched teeth, "you're exactly who I'm looking for. And you killed my boyfriend."

Mia wasn't that tall, but she towered over the slender girl, who sank back onto the bench, eyes round. "Errr..." she said faintly. Obviously she had not expected this.

Mia sighed. This was getting nowhere fast. She didn't know how she knew this wasn't Dahlia... but the girl had said Fey, after all. "Look, you said your name was Iris Fey. My name is Fey, too—I used to live in Kurain Village. My name is Mia."

If possible, it seemed like the girl shrank lower on the bench, her face going white. "You're... you know M-Morgan Fey?" she whispered.

"Yes, she's my aunt." Mia frowned. "Why do you ask?" She was tempted to ask Why are you so terrified? but let it go, sitting down on the bench next to the girl.

The girl opened her mouth a few times, but seemed unable to answer, her eyes filled with a mysterious fear. Mia sighed. "Look... Dahlia Hawthorne is a cold-blooded killer, and what I said is true: she killed my boyfriend last August. Or... at least I thought she did. Apparently he's alive. But..." she waved her hands, certain it sounded like she was rambling. "You look just like her, but you're not. Were you... related?"

"Was that... Mr. Armando?" said the girl timidly, and Mia froze.

She had to take several deep breaths before she could manage to answer. "Yes. Yes, he's... in there." She jerked her head toward the facility. "How do you know that?"

"Wait," said the girl, sitting forward on the bench attentively. "Wait, you're... then you're Miss Fey! I know you just said that, but you're... you're the other attorney she hated so much."

Then, as if realizing what she'd just said, the girl plastered her hands over her faces, eyes bugging out. "Yes," said Mia, not sure if she wanted to laugh or cry. "Please, for God's sake—who are you?"

The girl swallowed and removed her hands, looking terrified, and whispered something, barely audible.

The detective looked up, and sighed heavily at the sight of Mia. "Miss Fey," he said wearily as she approached the desk. "Please tell me you have hard evidence this time."

"Will hearsay testimony do for now?" Mia demanded; the detective's eyes widened as Iris stepped forward.

"Miss Hawthorne! We've been—"

"My name," the young girl interrupted quietly, "is Iris Fey. I'm Dahlia Hawthorne's twin sister. And I'm here to share what she told me—about the murders of Diego Armando, Doug Swallow, and Phoenix Wright."