▲▲▲Author's Note▲▲▲

Welcome to the start of something new. This story is the first I've written in quite some time, and is set during the events of Apollo Justice: Ace Attorney. It also presumes familiarity with the original Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney (the classic), in particular with the bonus "Rise from the Ashes" case (PW:AA 1-5). Although it's not necessary to have played the game before reading this, if you haven't, I strongly recommend to go pick up a copy right now and play it. Still brings a smile to my face years later.

Stay away from the iPad version though. It's a terrible port that lacks the fine degree of polish that characterizes much of the Ace Attorney series. I feel vaguely bad about purchasing it myself, although the nostalgia value is just enough to outweigh my irritation with the port.

This story will be updated as often as I can, but with no promises of regularity. We may see a ship or two later on, but by and large I'm interested in probing some of the questions raised during Apollo Justice's title game—as well as following one of my favorite characters, Ema Skye. But that's enough of that. I'm a bit rusty, so any feedback is welcome—but for now, onto the story.

Update (5/30/14): Fixed some embarrassing typos and stylistic errors.

▲▲▲ Filling the Blanks ▲▲

Chapter 1

November 1, 2026, 7:34 PM

Somewhere in Los Angeles

"Couldn't you have at least taken a taxi?" The man's voice was distorted by static, barely audible over the sound of passing cars. There was a short pause. "I'm being serious. You know how dangerous things are, and there are people you're responsible for now."

For several seconds, the only response was the sound of labored breathing, hardly distinguishable from background noise. Then, after several muffled thumps: "Sorry. Bumps in the road. Say that again?"

"You heard perfectly well the first time," snapped the voice. "What do you think you're doing, cycling at a time like this? By all rights you should be in a police cruiser right now, not out in the open. And on a ridiculous contraption, no less."

Another pause, punctured by the blare of a horn. "I know what I'm doing. I'll be there soon. Besides, I'm sure you can hear for yourself—it's gridlock out here." Leaving no time for reply or argument, there was a soft beep as the line went dead.

Standing before a twelfth-story office window, a frustrated Miles Edgeworth glared at his cell phone before slipping it into his pocket. As he looked out over the city skyline, he heard the unmistakable, soft pattering of rain. The darkening sky had finally begun to open up, and a glance at the monitor behind him showed that the storm would only worsen.

Edgeworth turned back to his desk, reaching for the office phone and dialing a number. He tapped his finger against the receiver once, twice, waiting for the call to go through. His eyes were drawn towards the pile of manila folders neatly stacked in front of him, and he groaned inwardly at the thought of the hours to come.

...to think this is just the beginning…!

November 1, 2026, 7:37PM

Prosecutors' Building

"Listen, fop, I've had it up to here with you!" A small plastic bag flew through the air and landed with a dull thud atop the enormous speakers that lined one wall of the office. "It took me an hour to drive here, so this had better be important!" A damp and frustrated Ema Skye crossed her arms in front of her, staring down the man lazily sprawled in his chair. "If all you wanted was to have this delivered, surely there were at least a hundred officers or patrolmen who could have run your errands! I'm busy!"

"But none of them could have done the job as well as you, ja?" Brushing a lock of hair to one side, Klavier Gavin rose from his seat and leaned against his desk, appraising the fuming detective that stood before him. Her hair glistened with collected raindrops, and her trademark lab coat hung wetly around her, adding to her bedraggled appearance. The green of her vest was clearly visible even through the thin fabric, which even now was dripping onto the hardwood floor. "You know I appreciate it, Fräulein Skye."

"I don't," Ema shot back, irritation radiating off of her body. "You're not even prosecuting this case for a week! Why the rush today, of all days?" She was keenly aware of how she looked, having been confronted with one too many glass doors on her way up, which only contributed to her vexation. Worse, she could already feel a chill setting in, bringing with it the faint promise of a cold. "You had to pick the one day it rained—"

"It was not my intention to inconvenience you," Gavin cut in, sensing the oncoming tirade. "Someone else asked me to procure this evidence for them. I suggest you take it up with them, ja?"

"Who—" Ema began, before the sharp ringing of a phone interrupted her. Klavier allowed the sound to continue for several seconds, grinning cheekily at her. "Just answer it already, fop!" Her mood only continued to blacken as the prosecutor picked up his desk phone, still smiling at her misfortune. Grumbling to herself, she leaned against a nearby table to wait out the call, glancing only briefly at the charred guitar that still occupied much of its surface.

"…what about, then…?"

The less said about it, the better. The Gavinners' last concert had just been one bad turn after another, and she was more than eager to leave it behind her. Even if I got to see the fop lose again. That thought was immediately followed by a pang of guilt when she remembered how the trial had ended. She glanced at the Klavier's back, remembering the slump in his shoulders as he'd left the courtroom.

"…Herr Wright?" The words snapped Ema out of her reminiscing, and she stood unconsciously, watching as a slight frown flitted across Klavier's face. "Nein. I have not seen him…what? Herr Edgeworth, I am not the chief of police." His voice had gone flat and serious, and she could see his eyes narrow as he consulted a monitor on the wall. "Herr Edgeworth, there is only one detective unassigned at the moment…ja. I will call you back in a minute."

The phone made a soft click as it was set down. With a sigh of annoyance, Klavier turned back towards his desk, brushing the plastic bag from earlier aside. "Fräulein, I thank you for your help," he said distractedly. "I need one moment, and then—"

"What was that about Mr. Wright?" Startled by the edge in her voice, as well as its proximity, Klavier looked up to see the detective standing beside him. Her eyes were boring into his own with an unusual intensity. Slowly, he straightened himself, meeting her gaze.

"Apparently, he is late for a meeting," he said evenly, spreading his arms. Even still, Ema caught the momentary flash of distaste that had accompanied his answer. "Herr Edgeworth seems to believe that a police escort is in order."

"I'm going." Ema's response was instantaneous, her arms folded in front of her. "Where is he?"

"Fräulein Skye, I need you focused on the CR-5 case. I am sending Herr Scruffy. He's already in the building anyway, ja?" Klavier turned towards the door, only to find Ema in his way again. He sighed, shaking his head in exasperation. "Herr Edgeworth has requested I meet with him—"

"I'm going." Ema's eyes were blazing now, and it became immediately apparent that she was not interested in debating the point. "Whatever you want done, it'll have to wait. Now, where is he?" The prosecutor stared at her, a trace of surprise kindled in his eyes.

I have never seen her this…intense before. As if reading her mind, Ema snapped her fingers in his face, reminding him of the unanswered question. Obviously, there is something at play here…but what? With a shrug of defeat, Klavier glanced back at his phone before answering.

"Herr Edgeworth believes that he is waiting out the rain at a French restaurant. I believe the name was Trés Bien." Before he had the chance to continue, Ema had already spun on her heel and marched out the door. Klavier shook his head in curiosity, watching her retreating back until she rounded a corner and vanished. A few seconds passed before he reached for his desk phone once more, dialing in a number off the monitor to his left.

"Herr Scruffy? …nein, I need you to wait a few minutes." Once he hung up, Klavier swept up the bag of evidence from his desk and tucked it under his arm. With one last glance at the monitor on the wall, he strode out of his office, heading for the elevator, taking care not to slip on the trail of water on the floor.

November 1, 2026, 7:40PM

Prosecutors' Building - Lobby

Several heads turned at the sound of a door being thrown open, admitting a panting Ema Skye into the building lobby. At such a late hour, the chamber was sparsely filled, with several police officers talking amongst themselves by the walls and a security guard mindfully watching from behind a desk. Upon seeing her, the guard hurriedly flagged her down.

"Detective Skye! Mr. Edgeworth just called—he said you're to meet Detective Gumshoe in the security office." So saying, the man pulled open the little half-door by his side, opening the way to a door set against the back wall. Without a word of thanks, Ema dashed through the small space behind the desk in an instant.

Two faces looked up at her when she barged into the tucked-away space. One face was familiar, and Ema stopped dead in her tracks as the pieces fell into place. Scruffy? Gumshoe? …of course. Well, that was stupid of me. Almost hidden behind the man's tattered green coat was a bespectacled woman, her arms still moving even as she glanced at Ema.

"About time, pal!" Despite the situation, Ema couldn't help but smile. Although it had been years since she'd last met the other detective, everything about him seemed instantly familiar. Even his trenchcoat was largely the same, although looking somewhat the worse for wear. A small bandage still hung tenaciously to his face, which had lit up at the sight of Ema. "Mr. Gavin told me to wait for you."

"And Mr. Edgeworth told me to meet you here," Ema replied, letting her brief smile serve as her greeting. "Do you know why?" As Gumshoe was opening his mouth to answer, Ema froze at the sound of rasping metal. There was a flash of reflected light off the barrel of a gun in the woman's hands. She blinked.

"Make sure he gets here safely, okay?" The woman gingerly handed the weapon to Gumshoe, who looked unnerved by the exchange. The small shotgun looked awkward in the detective's large hands, and indeed Gumshoe scratched the back of his head with one hand as he stared down at it. "I owe him."

"Sure thing, Maggey." So saying, he turned back to Ema, still standing in the doorway in askance. "C'mon, pal. I'll explain to you on the way!"

November 1, 2026, 7:37PM

Prosecutors' Building – Underground Parking Lot

Before she knew it, Ema was sitting in the passenger's side seat of Gumshoe's car, a battered model that seemed to have more than a decade's worth of wear and tear on it. She'd seen a heavy dent on the front bumper as they were walking, setting off warning bells in her head.

"Are you sure this thing is safe to drive?" From the damage to the front and the instant-noodle wrappings that littered the floor and seats, the vehicle looked anything but well-cared for. Gumshoe patted the wheel affectionately as he dropped the long gun in the back seat.

"This baby's been going since you were in high school! Never failed me before!" So saying, he gave wrenched his key to the right. The engine spluttered fitfully to life, and the two were soon pulling out of the dim garage, out onto the night streets. "See? Works like a champ!"

Ema buried her face into her hands. Different year, same Gumshoe. She could already feel a slight headache coming on. "What's the deal with the long gun?" She looked to her left, seeing the man's face drop for a moment.

"Mr. Edgeworth seems to think that there might be some kind of trouble," he answered. Ema was startled; for once, there wasn't a trace of joviality in his voice. "He told me to get this from the building guards…just in case."

"Did he tell you anything else?" Ema pressed. The detective shook his head, and Ema paused, somewhat startled. "All I know is that it has something to do with Mr. Wright."

"Yup, same here, pal." Gumshoe's answer seemed distant, his eyes focused on the road ahead. The rain beat against the windshield for several long seconds before he continued. "Mr. Edgeworth mentioned something about a case he's working on right now. And you know Wright; trouble follows him around like glue!"

Ema frowned, leaning back in her chair. Now that her initial rush of adrenaline was wearing off, the seriousness of what Gumshoe had said was beginning to sink in. He still gets his phrases mixed up, though. The offhand thought was blasted away by the shrill ringing of her cell phone. Fishing the handset from her pocket, Ema took only long enough to confirm the number before answering.

"Mr. Edgeworth?"

"Ema. Are you with Detective Gumshoe?" The prosecutor's tone was calm, but Ema thought she could detect a slight strain to it. She could almost see him in his office, probably looking back out over the skyline.

"Yeah. He's here."

"Can you put me on speakerphone? This is important."

"I'll try. Hang on a second." The phone beeped once, before the car was filled with a faint rush of crackling static. "Can you hear me, Mr. Edgeworth?"

"…yes. Can you? Ema frowned, barely able to hear the response over the sounds of driving. It was Gumshoe who answered, a few seconds later.

"Yessir, loud and clear." There was a short pause, and then: "…well, maybe not loud and clear, sir, but well enough!" There was another burst of white noise, and Ema could have sworn she could make out a weary sigh.

"Listen, both of you. You might be wondering why I didn't dispatch a police car to pick up Wright." The detectives both nodded, although Ema caught herself a second later. He can't see you, you idiot—

"I'll take that as a yes. Wright is working on something for us that is of extreme importance. A special case, if you will. There are some dangerous people involved…and we cannot rule out the possibility that they have someone on the inside."

"But sir," Gumshoe began, clearly confused. "Mr. Wright's not…you know, doing that stuff anymore. Right?" He glanced over at Ema for confirmation. She winced, giving an almost imperceptible nod. A moment later, there was the sound of screeching rubber as they narrowly avoided another car. This time, Edgeworth's sigh was clearly audible.

"I'll explain it later, detective. I need both of you to stay alert. I have no doubts that I can trust you to keep this matter quiet for now. Do you understand?"

"Of course, Mr. Edgeworth." Ema heard only a terse acknowledgement before the call went dead. Before she had the chance to put her phone away, Gumshoe had already burst into questions.

"Whoa! Can you believe Mr. Edgeworth?" A honk, and another turn of the wheel. "Who would've thought something like this would happen again?"

Again? Ema filed the question away for later, her mind flicking back to something she'd heard earlier that day. "Actually, the fop mentioned—"

"Who?"

"The fop," she repeated, exasperated. "You know, Mr. Gavin? Klavier? Mr. Rock Star? Mr. Edgeworth called him earlier, and he said something about not being the chief of police. Maybe that has something to do with it."

"The chief of police? No-o-o…" Gumshoe drew out the last word, clearly unconvinced. With his focus squarely on the road ahead, he missed the dark shadow that flickered through Ema's eyes. "I'm sure it's not him. I mean, I know him! The chief's great! I'm sure Mr. Edgeworth just wants to keep things close, you know?" Ema turned to look out her window.

Did you forget already, detective? …it wasn't that long ago…

"You know where we're going, right?" Fortunately for her, the oblivious Gumshoe missed both the obvious change in subject, and the undertone of bitterness that laced her voice. Instead, he launched into a story of a case several years ago, and Ema's attention drifted back towards what she'd heard today, turning over the scraps of information in her head.

Mr. Wright…it's been so long. She'd learned of his disbarment on the flight home, and a familiar feeling of disbelief washed over her as she remembered how bluntly the passenger next to her had delivered the news. Why wouldn't you answer my calls? Or the door? She flinched inwardly, remembering the forlorn look that had settled over what was once the Wright & Co. Law Offices. She'd initially thought she'd come to the wrong address, that her memory had been off, but the faded paint that still read "Wright" had laid that doubt to rest.

I heard he only painted over the last bit of that sign to save money. The Wright Talent Agency…. She knew that he was still involved with the law in his own way. Unconsciously, she reached into the pocket of her lab coat, rolling a small bottle of powder between her fingers. He's got someone working for him now…Ares? Julian? Something like that, anyway. The questions remained, as persistent as the drumming of raindrops overhead.

Mr. Wright…what have you gotten yourself into? Moments later, followed by: …Ema Skye, what have you gotten yourself into? By then, Gumshoe's story had wound to a close, and the minutes slipped by in relative silence. Despite her initial doubts, the car was acquitting itself well in the rain, although she wished Gumshoe didn't have such a penchant for careening around corners. Still, the cold rain kept the sidewalks and streets relatively clear of pedestrians, leaving the road fairly clear.

Ema almost wished that something would happen, anything to distract her. By now, worry had settled deep into her chest, and faces and words flashed through her memory as she thought back to the events of that night. What could be going on here? How is the prosecutors' office involved in this? Why the secrecy? She racked her head for answers, but nothing jumped out at her. Instead, the doubts swirled around and around, dredging up several memories she did not care to relive.

"How much further?" The question seemed to catch Gumshoe by surprise, and he shot her a sideways glance. Several large and hazy shapes began coming into view on the block ahead. Ema barely made out the outline of a giant strawberry before Gumshoe answered, apparently heartened by the strange display.

"We're almost there, pal! It's not far past this little park." Although seriousness had crept back into his voice, the detective seemed in good spirits. "See, what did I tell you?" The detective took one hand off the wheel to point at a garish, pink establishment, standing out like a sore thumb against the far more subdued shops around it. "Piece of cake, pal!"

Ema gave a thin smile, but her eyes flicked over to the long gun resting in the back of the car. Then why all the extra trouble? We're both armed already…. Her gaze tracked back to Gumshoe's hip, but she could see nothing beneath the formless mass of his trenchcoat.

…assuming he didn't forget it somewhere.

November 1, 2026, 8:00PM

Trés Bien

Rain continued to fall, illuminated by the car's headlights as the vehicle rolled to a stop just in front of the restaurant's glass windows. A vibrant sign blared out "Trés Bien" to the world, seemingly undaunted by the rain. Ema glanced out her window, seeing faint signs of movement inside the building. Her hand went to the holster at her side, and her blood briefly turned to ice.

…it's just in case, Ema. Everything is going to be fine. Still, it was only with great caution that she opened the passenger door and stepped out onto the curb, her eyes darting this way and that as she surveyed the nearby street. As she closed the door behind her, she could hear the sound of Gumshoe doing the same, followed by an exclamation of dismay.

"Go ahead, pal! My coat's just a little bit caught up here." Shaking her head, Ema walked across the sidewalk and made her way into the restaurant, hearing a little bell tinkle above her head to announce her presence.

A large, pink figure emerged from behind a partition, accompanied by an almost witheringly strong scent of flowers. Ema unconsciously took a step back as the person bore down on her, seemingly enveloped in a cloud of scent.

"Mademoiselle, I must ask you to leave. You see the sign outside, oui? We are closed for the night!" Ema's eyes narrowed, and she flashed her identification card in front of the man's startled eyes, stepping further into the restaurant and glancing at the nearest two tables, which were bare.

"Police," she snapped at him, walking towards the back of the restaurant to see past a number of small partitions that divided the restaurant. The back of the room seemed just as empty as the front, and she spun back to face the pink host again.

"I'm looking for someone. He's supposed to be here."

"I am not seeing anyone here!" the man insisted, twisting back and forth anxiously. "Mademoiselle, we are closed—" he stopped, seeing Ema moving towards the kitchen doors.

The detective blinked when the host intercepted her, blocking her passage. Only then did she notice the man's unusually muscled arms, and the suddenly nervous look in his eyes. She tensed up, ready for anything, when she heard the sound of the front door opening behind her, hearing someone stumbling in.

"Alright, pal! Have you found him?" At the sound of Gumshoe's voice, Ema could see the man in front of her take a step back in surprise, a look of recognition dawning over his face.

"It's you!" Two voices rang out at the same time; one, the restaurant owner's, startled at the reappearance of a detective from many years ago. The other, Ema Skye's, strained by relief at the sight of a man slipping quietly through the kitchen doors. A familiar button flashed with reflected light from atop his head, and a familiar, yet strangely changed face offered her a crooked smile.

"Yes, me," said Phoenix Wright, still grinning. "It'd good to see you again, Ema."