Gumshoe stood outside of the prosecution office building, squinting up towards the top. The light was still on in Mr. Edgeworth's window – but that wasn't exactly unusual. Edgeworth often stayed late hours. Gumshoe glanced down at the overflowing file in his hands, frowning slightly. He'd been instructed to leave it at the front desk... but he knew it was supposed to go to Mr. Edgeworth, ultimately. Might as well take it up to him, direct-like, he reasoned, pushing in through the great glass doors. Save him a little time tomorrow. Poor guy's pulling a late night, 'n all.

He absently leafed through the file, waiting for the elevator. Just some details on the recent murder of a woman – Amelia Abel. Ugly case. He'd been a part of the initial investigation, himself.

The elevator arrived and he stepped in, turning a few pages in the file. There was a picture of Ms. Abel, smiling pleasantly. There were the six kids that killed her... also smiling pleasantly. They seemed like good kids, here. He shut the folder with a sigh, leaning on the elevator rail.

With a soft ding, the doors opened, and he stepped up to Mr. Edgeworth's office door. He knocked politely. "Mr. Edgeworth, sir? You in?"

A brief silence. He knocked again, a little louder.

"Yes, yes, I heard you..."

Gumshoe edged the door open cautiously. "Uh... sir? I brought you a file on the..." He trailed off, seeing Edgeworth. The prosecutor was flushed across the face, and looked more rumpled than Gumshoe had ever seen him – jacket thrown on the floor carelessly, hair disarrayed as if he'd been running his hands through it. "Are you okay, sir?" He walked in, setting the file on the desk. Edgeworth reeked of alcohol.

"I'm... fine. Please leave, detective, I don't believe that I requested any papers." He crossed his arms, peevish, glowering at the detective.

"Uh, sir? Don't you want to go home?"

"No! I'm working..." Gumshoe didn't respond. After a moment, Edgeworth leaned forward on his desk, with a sigh. "Or maybe I'm not, anymore. Perhaps you are right." He pushed out of the chair and stood up carefully, walking toward the door.

"Want... want me to drive you, sir?"

"What? I'm not drunk, detective." And maybe he wasn't. But he wasn't sober, either – his steps were a bit too heavy, his words a bit too loose.

"Nah, but it's still a good idea. Doncha think, sir? It's... uh, logical, and all."

Edgeworth sighed, rubbing his temples. "I suppose it might be easier than arguing." He'd given in so easily. Gumshoe examined him carefully, worried... he had bags under his eyes, and his tight expression seemed even more drawn than usual. He looked completely exhausted.

Neither of them said anything as they made their way down the building, to Gumshoe's car. Edgeworth got in with only a few murmured complaints, before leaning back in the chair and remaining silent until Gumshoe turned the keys in the ignition. "What about my car...?" he finally asked.

"It'll be here tomorrow, sir."

"Mmmm." He closed his eyes briefly. Another quiet settled. It didn't last long, though, as Edgeworth broke it once again. "You were investigating the Abel murder, were you not?" He asked, softly.

Gumshoe glanced over at the prosecutor, who was still reclined, eyes closed. Even from the passenger seat, Gumshoe could still detect a whiff of alcohol on the other man's breath. "Um... yes, sir. A very sad case."

Edgeworth smiled humorlessly, hands trembling a bit. "She was 30 years old, the victim. A wholly innocent lady, by all accounts. Handicapped. Trusted... trusted everybody. Did you know that, detective?"

Gumshoe looked at his hands on the steering wheel. "Yeah, I'd... I'd heard, sir. They say there wasn't a mean bone in her body." A brief pause, as he tried to find words. "The – the killers are goin' to jail though, yeah?"

Edgeworth scowled, waving a hand dismissively. "Yes, yes, that will not be difficult. They were sloppy, stupid." He tapped a finger on the dashboard. "Have... have you ever heard about Leopold and Loeb, detective?"

"No, sir."

"Long time ago. Two... two college students who believed themselves to be better than other people. Smarter." He chuckled slightly. "They thought they could commit the perfect crime. So they killed a boy. With... with a chisel. Not because they wanted anything. Just because they could."

"That's... that's awful, sir."

Edgeworth turned to Gumshoe, smiling weakly. "And do you know what the worst part is? Their crime... it wasn't perfect. They made... mistakes. Big ones." He laughed again, but this time it came out almost a giggle. A strange noise on Edgeworth's lips. "The body was found immediately. Identified immediately. They... one of them dropped their glasses next to the victim. Some... some perfect crime, eh?"

Gumshoe frowned, watching the road. "They're criminals, sir. 'Course they made mistakes. No one really smart does a thing like that."

Edgeworth's face darkened, and he turned away. "I've seen some very smart criminals, detective. Known them..."

"Not too smart, I bet. Not if they went and did something like that."

Edgeworth muttered something to himself under his breath, but Gumshoe didn't catch it. After another silence, he spoke up again. "Do you know why those kids killed Amelia Abel?"

"No, sir. Why?"

Edgeworth scowled. "I don't know, that's why I asked, you idiot!"

Gumshoe winced. "They... I can't say, Mr. Edgeworth. One of the girls said she was tryin' to steal her boyfriend, but... I dunno, sir. They... they figured they could, I guess."

Edgeworth sniffed. "Leopold and Loeb... they thought they were smarter, and better, and that they could... could get away with it."

He fell silent, again, facing away from Gumshoe. Minutes passed.

Finally, Gumshoe pulled into Edgeworth's drive, and stopped. "Mr. Edgeworth, sir? We're here."

Edgeworth muttered something unintelligible, opening the car door and stepping out. Gumshoe watched him as he walked toward the front door, looking far more unstable than he had back at his office. Gumshoe quickly shut off the car, and ran out to help the prosecutor.

"No, no, detective I'm fine, leave me alone..." He shoved away the detective's hands as he tried to steady him, stomping towards the door. Gumshoe followed a few steps behind, making sure he was alright.

After a bit of struggling, Edgeworth managed to get out his keys, and open the door with shaking hands. He stepped inside, not looking back. "Goodnight, Mr. Edgeworth," Gumshoe called after him, before turning around to head back to the car.

"D-detective Gumshoe?"

The detective snapped back around. Edgeworth's voice was so strained, almost as if... oh. He was standing in the doorway, lips pursed tight and eyes brimming.

"I'm smarter, I'm better than other people..." he choked.

Gumshoe froze, completely confused. Seconds ticked by. "Sir...?"

"I... I could... I hate people, detective, I..." his voice cracked.

And Gumshoe understood. He ran up, standing in front of Edgeworth. "Yeah, you're right, sir, you are smarter, you are better... better than any other person I know..." He hesitantly reached out a hand to touch the man's shoulder. "And that's why you couldn't, okay, pal? Because you're so good, okay, so darn good..."

Edgeworth leaned into the detective, crumbling. "I'm not better, I'm not good, I'm not - not..." Gumshoe wrapped his arms around him, rubbing his back.

"Best guy I know... trust you with all I got, Mr. Edgeworth... could never believe that stuff about you, not in a million years..." Edgeworth clung to him, shaking, and Gumshoe just pulled him a bit tighter, just kept saying words that he hoped were helpful until the prosecutor finally stilled. "Let's get you inside, Mr. Edgeworth..." he nodded, and Gumshoe helped him into the house.

"You wanna get ready for bed now, sir? I can leave, if you like..."

Edgeworth shook his head, and took a deep breath. "T-tea, detective?" Gumshoe cautiously nodded, and Edgeworth stepped into the kitchen, still shaking slightly as he put a kettle on the stove. Gumshoe sat down at the table, watching him. Edgeworth, finishing his task, sat down as well.

"Detective Gumshoe..." Edgeworth said softly.

"Hmm?"

"You... you are the..." He cleared his throat and turned away, his hair falling in front of his eyes. "You are a good man. I... I want you to know that."

Gumshoe felt tears prickle in his eyes, but he swallowed, and answered, "Thank you, sir." It was all he could say.