Here's a fic I'm writing, and hoping to finish by Valentine's day. Very slight, implied Gumshoe/Edgeworth and Wright/Edgeworth themes, but I promise the focus is on the mystery and drama. As of this posting, I have the first two chapters finished, and have the third about halfway done.

Title: Turnabout Valentine

Author: Gypsy-Maria Lorimer (snowbunny)

Summary: Detective Gumshoe is suspected of murdering a tabloid reporter, and it's up to Phoenix Wright to defend him! But who's that in the Prosecutor's stand... Edgeworth?!

Timeline: Stand-alone, maybe slightly AU. At the time of writing this, I've played through the first game and the first case of the second game. In this fic, Edgeworth is still around and has not gone missing.

Archive: Go ahead, but please give credit where it's due. My e-mail is gypsymaria (at) gmail (dot) com.

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Chapter One

Day One. February 11, 7:45 a.m., Wright & Co. Law Office

Ring! Ring! Beep.

"Hello?" I answered my cell phone groggily. It took me a moment to remember where I was.

"Turn on your television."

I blinked and rolled into a sitting position on the leather couch in my office, stretching the kinks from my back. I found myself spending the night in the office more often now. It saved on transportation costs, since all I did was go to and from the office and home every day, and I had pretty much everything I needed at the office aside from a kitchen. Most importantly, I had a television, which I obediently turned on after fumbling wth the remote.

"... and that's the weekly forecast. Back to you, Dave."

"It's on. Who is this?" The voice who had given the command sounded maddeningly familiar, but my sleep-muddled brain couldn't place it at the moment.

"Watch." Still familiar, but not enough to go on yet. It was definitely male. That was all I could tell without more evidence. So, I obeyed, and hoped this mystery would clear itself up shortly.

"In other news, there is chaos at the police station this morning as their very own Detective Gumshoe is arrested for the murder of a tabloid reporter--"

"W-whoa! What?!" I nearly dropped my phone in surprise, staring at the screen as the detective's scruffy, exhausted face appeared. Not unusually, the officer looked sad and a little confused. I couldn't imagine the good-natured Gumshoe murdering anyone-- even a reporter! I remembered my phone and demanded of the mystery caller: "What's this all about? Who are you?"

"A... friend. Take the case, Wright. You're the only one who can." Click.

Staring at the unresponsive phone in my hand, I sighed and turned off the television. "Looks like I'd better get down to the detention center."

February 11, 8:30 a.m., Detention Center

Still wearing yesterday's suit, I was feeling distinctly rumpled and grubby as I walked into the familiar room. I'd interviewed dozens of suspects and clients in this very room. The same security guard that was always there stood at his post, stiff and vigilant as ever. His gaze darted to the other occupant of the room every so often, seeming curious and a little nervous. Detective Gumshoe himself sat in the chair in front of the visiting window, looking even more rumpled and grubby than I felt. I don't know if I should feel better or worse about that, I thought, troubled by how worn and upset he looked. He must have had a rough night. I wonder when they stopped questioning him? I noticed there was a small stain of blood on his shirt, near his right shoulder.

Gumshoe brightened momentarily upon seeing me, then drooped back into his patented "sad puppy" expression that always made me feel as though I'd somehow hurt the burly detective's feelings. "Oh, hey, pal," greeted Gumshoe with only a fraction of his usual enthusiasm. At least he hadn't mistaken me for Larry this time. I think.

"Detective Gumshoe," I returned, taking a seat and leaning forward intently. "I saw you on the news this morning. What happened?"

For a second, the detective looked like he might spill everything, but he caught himself and shook his head. That same guarded, determined look he wore when he was trying not to blab about a case settled firmly in his features. "Can't really say, pal. I guess I just... lost it. I'm guilty. A murderer. If ya came here to offer to defend me, you're wasting your time."

How could I believe him? Whether it was a liability or one of his redeeming qualities, the detective was a terrible liar. His eyes kept flickering from me to the floor, and he wouldn't meet my eyes directly. Also, something rang hollow in his claim. What murderer admitted to "losing it" in such a calm, resigned voice?

"Why don't you start by telling me what happened last night?" I prompted, giving him my best 'trust me, I'm a lawyer' smile. It didn't work on everyone, but Gumshoe fell for it every time. I guess I have an honest face.

He chuckled tiredly. "I just got done telling them all about it. But okay, pal. I'll tell ya, but you gotta promise me you're not gonna try to take my case. It's too late, ya know? I already confessed."

"Detective," I admonished, "you know I always believe in my client's innocence, even if they don't. Remember the Goodman murder? Lana Skye?" At his vacant stare, I added helpfully, "That case you didn't get to work on so much? The Blue Badger was involved."

"Oh! Right!" He pounded his fist into his palm, and winced. Shaking his hand as though it pained him, his unbuttoned sleeve cuffs flopped back a little. I could see that his thick wrist was badly bruised. He must have caught me staring, because he shoved the sleeve back up and put his hand down where I couldn't see it. Hmm, interesting. "Well, I gotta stick with my story, pal. I already told them I did it, and I'm not changing that. Even for you."

I sighed deeply. Though his heart was in the right place, most of the time, Detective Gumshoe was as dense and stubborn as they came. I had a feeling he was completely innocent, but for some reason was unwilling to admit it. Was it like Edgeworth's case, where he really thought he'd done it? Or was it more like Lana Skye's instance, in which case he was trying to cover for someone? I had to know if I was really going to defend him. And, to my surprise, I realized suddenly that I'd already made up my mind to do so the moment I saw him on the television screen that morning.

"Well, then, just tell me what you told the investigators," I finally conceded. It was a place to start, at least.

He nodded. "Right. Well, it all started last night...

"I was in the parking lot of the donut shop down the street, finishing my coffee. This lady with a camera showed up and started messing with me. She was threatening me, saying she had pictures that would ruin my career. Well, I didn't like that, so I tried to take her camera. She struggled, I put my gun to her head to intimidate her, and... and I pulled the trigger."

After this shocking confession, I could only blink in horror for a moment. I think my face must have plainly reflected my feelings, because the detective gave me a tired grimace. "I told you, it's hopeless, pal. I'm going to get capital for this." His voice wavered then, and I could see the fear in him warring with... whatever was so important that he had to lie about it. He drew a deep breath and added bracingly, "It... it's okay. Really. I did wrong, so I'm gonna take what's coming to me like a man. Don't you worry about me, Mr. Wright!"

"Objection!" Now it was Gumshoe's turn to blink at me, taken aback by my outburst. "Damnit, Gumshoe, I don't know who you're trying to protect, or what, or why, but I'm going to get to the bottom of this! You are not going to take the fall for a murder you didn't commit! Now, either you can tell me who really did it, or I'm just going to have to go out there and find the evidence for myself." I was on my feet now, pointing right at the stunned detective and using my best courtroom voice.

Once the surprise wore off, the big guy looked dangerously close to tears. Had I stepped over the line? "Gee, Mr. Wright," he sniffled, reminding me briefly of one of my first clients. "It's awful good of you to believe in me like that, and don't think I don't appreciate it, but..."

"But what?" I demanded, folding my arms.

He shuddered and sighed. I'd never seen him look so defeated. "I can't tell you. Believe me, I wish I could, but... it'd be even worse if I said anything. And not just for me." He shook his head. "You won't get any more than that out of me, pal." That stony set to his jaw told me that this was as far as I was getting with him today. If I wanted to clear the detective's name, it was up to me to do the legwork. Which I fully intended to do.

"Don't you worry, Detective," I assured him. "I will prove your innocence. And when I find the person who really did it, I'm going to want the full story behind this mess." I gave him my best stern lawyer look, but he just sighed again and stared at the floor morosely.

Sometimes I wished my clients would make my job a little easier...