Chapter 1 – Diego
She'd just smiled sadly and said, "It's all a bit unfair though, don't you think?"
He hadn't really understood. It was him, and not some wicked twist of fate, that had put the final nail in the coffin – him who had shown up so naively to that meeting with the woman who had ruined his life, him who had put that letter back for the little girl to find, him who had killed Mia's mother. But still she looked at him with her sad eyes. Shouldn't it have been the other way around?
She had just shook her head, dismissing his objection as easily as she would have in court.
He had hammered away at that final nail, and he hoped his own attorney would have that kind of attitude when it came to court. After all, this was what he had expected – what he had planned. Right?
"You don't need to end it like this. You didn't need to do what you did, and you don't need to do what you're doing now."
He still didn't understand.
"It's just too sad. Five years clawing your way out of the depths of Hell, and for what?"
To protect Maya Fey, and do battle with Phoenix Wright. To both protect for and avenge Mia. At least, that was what he had told himself.
"You're just throwing it all away, Diego."
She looked at him – past the masks over his eyes and his heart – and told him straight.
"You're giving up."
He had told her before. He remembered, a trial that had seemed hopeless.
'Diego Armando never gives up.'
How could she say he was giving up? He didn't have anything to fight for anymore!
"Nothing to fight for, huh...." she murmured, tilting her head down to stare at her hands - Maya's hands.
He couldn't see her face, but in her hands she was holding something. A book.
It was bound to be a book of memoirs – it was like Mia to make something like that. Holding on to memories was something she did well: Her mother's, Terry's -
His.
She slid the book under the glass wordlessly, and stood up to go.
He watched her; again, he didn't understand.
"I'll be back in a week," she said, not turning to look at him. "Your trial is in two weeks, right?"
He didn't answer, staring at the book with distaste, as though it had possessed her to leave.
"Just..." she sighed, "Just look, Diego. Past all the masks and veils. At what this all really means."
She paused, as if to say something else, but when he raised his head, she was gone.
Men are creatures of action. That's what he always said. But, once she had gone, he left the book on the other side of his cell, as far away as possible. Every time he reached out to look inside, he would see her look of hopeful melancholy, looking for a sign his fire for life had returned, and his resolve would die as quickly as that fire of his had done when he woke up in that hospital room a year ago, all alone.
He needed some coffee.
Time passed slowly in that place, and yet it was two days before she was due to return before he snatched up the book and opened it.
He hadn't really known what to expect. He knew that she wanted desperately for him to change his mind; for it to make that fire and passion for life return. But he hadn't put any real thought into what might do that for him.
Somehow, that woman always knew, even when he didn't. They say soul mates know how to fill in the holes in yourself you didn't know were there. She'd always done that.
She'd done it again. Turnabout.
It was a blank page where he had opened the book; a blank page save for a tiny, thumbnail of a photograph. It was her, bleary eyed, tired and smiling so much her happiness reflected off the page.
It had been a while, he thought. He remembered when he used to make her smile like that.
This time, it wasn't directly his doing. Not directly.
In the photo, cradled in Mia's arms, was a small child, and finally, he understood.
Flicking past the pages of legal documents glued or taped haphazardly into the book, he found the page he was looking for.
Name, Elise Armando. Born, May 25th, 2013.
The dates fit.
His fire had returned.