A/N: ^^; still on the case, warning in this chapter for a bit of a odd pairing, also some language

March 28th 6:00pm
Palace Apartment Building
Penthouse Suite

Miles stared at the Steel Samurai episode playing on his t.v. without taking in a moment of it. On the floor at his feet, Pess whined, then nudged his head onto his master's lap.

Miles blinked then patted the animal's head. "…I don't know what to do, Pess. I've had enough of being hurt by people I love."

Pess whined again, expressive brown eyes narrowing.

"Oh, not you boy. You didn't do anything. It was Nick." Miles was aware talking to his dog like this could have been considered mad, but until Nick came along he had precious few others to talk to. At least Pess was a good listener and didn't encumber him with unwanted advice.

He wasn't too forthcoming with the wanted advice either.

"Pess," Miles said softly, "I need some help."

The dog's reaction was instant, he'd learnt quickly about his master's morose moods and understood the word 'help', so he stood up, tail wagging in delight at the idea of helping, and scurried to the side-table.

Miles watched, amused, as the dog awkwardly placed his paws on the flat surface and nudged the photo frame with his nose.

It was the one taken after Von Karma's downfall. Of the whole of their little group… him and Nick next to each other, sharing an expression of triumph. Look back at it now, Miles could see the adoration in Nick's eyes that he'd completely missed before. If he'd said something sooner, maybe Miles wouldn't have run off to Europe when that mess happened with Damon Gant…

Miles sighed, "No Pess, I can't call Nick. Not yet."

Pess whined, ears drooping. He tilted his head as dogs do when thinking very hard, then barked and leant his head forwards, picking up the phone in his jaws and scurrying to place it on Miles' lap.

Miles was impressed. "I said I can't call Nick, Pess." He chided, but gently. Sighing he pushed the button to play back his messages for the day anyway. Not that he expected any, most of his work was conducted on his cell and-

"Hello Miles, this is Franziska, just calling to tell you I've had a discussion with those two foolish fools and they've agreed I should be your best woman, understand?"

Miles smirked, despite his mood. He thought Gumshoe was limping a bit today, evidently Franziska thought the honour worth fighting for. Still, that meant her wrath would be doubled if there was no wedding.

Franziska.

Well, it was a thought. She wasn't the warmest of people but damn if the woman couldn't make an argument. Maybe sympathy wasn't what he needed right now but facts. He dialled.

"Ja!"

Miles flinched at her manner of answering the phone, "Guten tag, Frannie." He paused, hearing her huff at his nickname for her. "Can I have a moment or two of your time?"

At the other end of the line, Miles imagined he could see his step-sister (for lack of a better term) examining her watch, then heard her snap, "All right. What do you want?"

Miles opened his mouth to reply 'Nick and I are having some problems' but then realised that Frannie would simply reply with 'Then solve them, fool!' and probably whip the phone.

"Hurry up Miles, unlike you, us real lawyers don't have time to sit about drinking tea and doing our hair all day." Franziska snapped, annoyed with the hesitation.

Miles blinked, spurred into words by her comment, "I do not sit around doing my hair!"

"You did when we were children. Really, how no-one realised you were a fruit before Wright is a mystery beyond even my skills."

Miles blushed, part of him wanted to argue back, it probably wasn't healthy to find comfort in argument but it was what he'd grown up with. He fought the urge to reply with some comment that Franziska herself was hardly a picture of a straight woman and replied, "All right, to business then. I suppose you know Nick and I have been assigned the same case?"

Franziska's smile was audible, "Ja, and I'll be watching closely. A Von Karma does not loose, you'll remember."

Miles bit back a comment about him not being a Von Karma at all, "Of course. The thing is, he's arguing for someone I'm certain is a killer," he paused then added, "That's fine, it's his client, I don't agree with it but it's his job and someone has to do it. But he's attacking me personally as well." Miles sighed, "Bringing up things about… Evidence tampering. That sort of thing."

Franziska snorted and Miles winced at the sound, for someone raised in such finery she could be so unladylike at times.

"Resorting to petty insults, the last refuge of the foolish!" she declared, Miles heard her whip crack over the phone. "But Miles, if you're certain the defendant is the killer, then you're probably right, aren't you?"

Here Miles hesitated. He didn't like to admit to less than certainty, but the truth was he wasn't sure. He just knew the statistics and there seemed so little room for argument in the case. "Remember the incident involving Maya up at the Hazukura temple?"

"Ja. That was the last time we faced one another in court, mien Bruder."

Miles smiled, "Well the defendant in this case is the one who was convicted for the murder. Godot, He's already been to prison for murder; therefore it's not unlikely he'd kill again."

Franziska hummed in agreement. "Sound logic, so what has Wright so convinced he's innocent?"

"Partially because the man was involved with Mia Fey, and partially because the initial murder was done to defend Maya. You know Nick, his policy is to believe whatever Scheiße his clients tell him." Miles explained, hesitating again. Secretly, he rather admired Nick's ability to believe in people, to believe anyone could be telling the truth. He admired it far more than his own past system of 'assume everyone is guilty until proven otherwise'.

"Frannie, I didn't really call to talk about the case..." he said softly, then swallowed, trying to rid himself of the sudden lump in his throat, sprung, he suspected, from his fear that this really was the end of him and the man he loved. "I told Nick I'm reconsidering the marriage. I've been... having a lot of doubts about him even moving in with me, and then with these personal attacks in court, it's making me think… this isn't how things are supposed to be."

He heard the intake of breath, short and clipped. He knew Franziska far too well, because he knew that little breath meant she was actually rather shocked and even a little upset.

"Miles, are you telling me the engagement is off?" she growled. "Because that does not bode well with me."

The older man bit his lip, there was the crux of it. Was this the end or was it fixable? Which did he want it to be?

"Well... I've still got the ring but I'm having a lot of doubts... I know, you've fought Larry and Gumshoe for the right to stand with me but I have to think about what would be a good life for me and Nick and I just..." miles let out a low sigh, trying to release some of the doubt in his heart. "I don't know anymore."

There was a moment or two of silence.

"Oh for goodness sake!" Franziska snapped, Miles heard the whip crack again and wondered if she was attacking the phone itself, no matter, the noise alone made him wince after all the years he'd put up with being her target. "Are you seriously suggesting you would break up a relationship over a mere argument? Have you been living in a box, Miles? Relationships are hard sometimes, you deal with it!"

Miles opened his mouth, about to reply with more discussion of his doubts, but she cut him off before the first syllable was out. The Von Karma way, don't give your opponent time to object.

"As for thinking it should always be easy, you're clearly living in one of your American Disney films. If it's easy, it's not worth doing. Why do you think we Von Karmas always take on the most challenging cases?"

Miles paused, and so did she, giving him time to come up with the answer. Although he could imagine she would be impatiently waggling her whip, readying for another strike if he replied with foolishness.

"... The reward's always better the harder the case." He replied, finally. "...I'm being stupid."

It wasn't something he liked to admit, but it was true. What was he thinking, calling off all of this because of an argument? He and Nick had always argued, it was part of their courtship, so to speak. And what was he doing telling Franziska about his doubts? There was only one person he should have been discussing this with, one man with stupid spikey hair and a daft grin.

"If you ever tell anyone I said I'm being stupid, I'm telling people you slept with a cuddly pony until you were twelve." Miles added, smiling in his heart, he couldn't very well let his little sister off without some mild teasing.

He almost heard her very faint blush, "Hm. The very idea that you would think me a gossip is almost as ridiculous as you having the gonads to speak of such things." The whip cracked again. "And it was a Stallion, not a pony."

Miles laughed softly, "Of course. I suppose I've got to call Nick and tell him it's back on."

"You do that. And be sure to tell him my role in the wedding..." there was a hesitation, then, "Actually no, wait, I want to be there to see his face when you tell him." She laughed in that odd, slightly unnerving way she had, "I suppose that means I shall be walking with Miss Maya down the aisle?"

Miles found himself laughing along with her, it felt good, a release of tension, and all the better because now he could hang up and call Nick and get all this sorted out. "Probably. Out of curiosity, can Larry still walk or did you break him for the chance of being my best man?"

March 28th 6:30pm
Phoenix Wright's apartment

Nick kicked another one of the cardboard boxes littering his flat, then whimpered as he discovered via his toes that it was full of heavy law books.

He didn't get it. Ok so he deserved the glares Miles had given him for the comment about the evidence, and he sure as hell could see why he'd be less than welcome at the flat tonight, with them working the same case it wasn't a good idea even if they were on speaking terms. But to call off the whole wedding?

After the initial horror and shock, he'd sunk deeply into confusion. If there were problems beyond this case, he didn't know what they were, he and Miles had seemed so happy lately, he'd even been settling into home-life at Miles' penthouse. Hell, the other day he even fed that pampered dog without being asked.

Nick just didn't get it.

He sank down onto his ratty old sofa, staring mournfully at his case file, focusing on it rather than Miles would help.

Even with this new information that Officer Peirce could have let another person into the room, it wasn't good. Godot was going to be called to testify tomorrow and Miles was bound to ask how anyone could miss a third man entering the room. Even if Nick argued Godot's vision was limited, it wouldn't help. That room was tiny, even Godot would have noticed a third man.

He sighed and turned to the murder weapon evidence. Maybe there was something here he could use. No fingerprints and the victim's blood on the blade.

That cloth wrapped around the handle was bothering him. Phoenix had been doing this long enough to know that most criminals wore gloves when they planned a murder, and this one had 'planned' written all over it.

It was disturbing really. The cloth was so soaked in blood that it was fully red, speaking volumes about the viciousness of the crime, and…

The colour red doesn't exist in my world.

Nick blinked.

He looked again at the cloth, squinting a little.

If it was red from being soaked in blood, why was there no gap where the killer's hand had been?

"The cloth was red to start with!" Nick screamed in delight; leaping to his feet with excitement as a puzzle piece fell into place. "The damn thing was red to begin with!"

Ignoring the thuds as his upstairs neighbour banged on the floor to shut him up, Nick jumped over his half-finished packing and seized the phone, dialling the police department. He needed analysis done on that cloth, and now.

March 28th 7:30pm
14 Hospital Road

"You didn't have to walk me home Kitten." Godot commented, but not unkindly. He could never be unkind to little Maya.

Maya smiled sweetly as she followed the man into his small house. "It's no trouble Mister Godot! I never get to walk our clients back home usually, they're always in the detention centre." She blushed a little, realising she'd said the wrong thing. "I mean…"

Godot laughed, hanging his coat on a carefully-marked peg on the wall. "Relax kitten. I still have some pull with the police, besides, I'm just a helpless old blind man, remember?"

"Oh, you're not old! Or Helpless!" Maya protested, glancing around what little of the hall she could see by the red light of his visor. She noted the lack of any unnecessary furniture, and the thin brass rail along one side of the hall. Presumably it was there to guide him if he found himself without the visor.

He turned and began to walk down the hallway towards the kitchen. When he senses Maya wasn't following him he realised with some amusement at his own expense that he hadn't turned the light on, making the hall pitch-black to someone without his particular ability. Quickly he turned back and flicked the switch on. "Sorry kitten, been a long time since I had company. Speaking of which, how are you getting home?"

She smiled adorably. "Oh, I can catch a bus, I-"

Godot shook his head, "No, no, I'm afraid I can't allow a little girl like you to go out there all alone." He grinned, "There's dangerous men out there."

Maya blinked, then seemed to get the irony of that statement and burst into giggles.

"I'll call you a cab." Godot added, "My treat for you being so kind to the blind guy."

Maya shook her head once more, finally getting up the nerve to follow him into his kitchen. "Oh come on, you barely even count as blind." She commented, looking around, once more struck by the lack of unnecessary things. The coffee machine had braille markings on its switches, and all the cupboards, stainless steel, had little name-plates bolted onto their bottom right hand corners with more braille on them.

In no rush to send the girl on her way, Godot flicked the coffee machine on and watched her staring around the room with some amusement. Finally he spoke up with, "I didn't get the visor right away. They came up with it a year after I came back from the dead. I uh… had to adapt for a year. It was kind of strange going back to seeing after that."

Maya nodded, looking torn between impressed and awkward. "…Do you mind me asking about… what it's like?" she asked, a small stammer in her voice.

Inside, she wondered at how lonely he had to be, the house was clearly set up just for him, she sensed any woman who lived there would at least put out some flowers or something, something he could still enjoy without his sight.

Maybe after her sister, there really couldn't be anyone else for this poor man.

Maya's heart ached for him. She made a decision in her mind. First off, she needed him to take off the visor.

Godot shook his head, leaning on the counter with a smile. "Not at all kitten, I'd rather people ask than just stare all the time."

Maya smiled at this permission granted and took another quick look around the room, "Is it hard learning braille?"

"Depends." Godot replied, "I got it pretty quick but I was told kids usually find it easier than adults."

Maya nodded, her top-knot bouncing. "…Ok, what's it like when you take the visor off? I mean, is it all black or all white or is it like in Daredevil, can you 'see' stuff if it makes a noise?"

Godot laughed hard at this, god he liked this kid, she reminded him of a younger Mia, naïve and sweet. "It's all black. I can get a sense of where things are, kind of how you can sense when someone's behind you, yanno? And if the place is familiar, I can walk around ok."

Maya's eyes widened, "Wow… so if you took it off you could walk around your house fine?"

Always happy to impress a girl, Godot reached up to his visor, pressing gently on the release catches at the sides and sliding it off in one smooth movement. "Ok, where should I go?"

Maya's voice, tight with excitement at a demonstration, chirped, "Oh! Pour yourself a coffee and come sit at the table!"

Godot nearly laughed, he did that so often he barely used the visor anyway. Still, since she was amused by this, he did just that. Grasped his mug from where it always rested, poured a cup of special blend #132 and without having to reach out at all, crossed the kitchen floor to the table and sat.

"Impressed, kitten?"

"Very, tiger. Good to see you didn't let it slow you down."

It was lucky he'd been resting the mug on the table anyway; otherwise it would have shattered on the floor in seconds. As it was, the shudder just made some of it spill. Not that he noticed. His face turned sharply to where he knew the other chair was.

"What's wrong Diego? Cat got your tongue?"

"Y…you can't be here." He stammered.

Hands, warm and soft as he remembered, slid out and took his own shaking ones. "Hush, hush. I'm here, don't question how. The important part is that I'm here."

Godot swallowed. He'd never wanted his visor more in his life. He turned his head back to where he'd left it.

"Ah-ah-ah! No, Diego. You don't need to see me to know me, do you?"

She even smelled the same, of that perfume that she said was too expensive but she liked so much that she always made her finances stretch. He'd brought her a bottle once, for an anniversary.

"No, kitten." He replied, obedient as a dog. "But-"

"Shhh." She whispered, he felt her finger rest against his lips and unable to resist, he kissed the tip of that digit.

She chuckled softly, how he'd missed that laugh. "Good. Now come on, you need to show me which way to go, this place is new."

Nodding weakly, unable to form the questions he knew he should be asking, Godot stood. This had to be a dream, maybe he'd slipped and gone unconscious, maybe he'd had the heart attack he'd been semi-expecting since the day he woke up. That would probably throw the trial into disarray.

Still, for now, he didn't want to question a thing.

March 29th, 9:00am
District Court Building Lobby

Phoenix skimmed over the report Gumshoe had thrust into his hands the moment he walked into the courthouse, it confirmed everything he'd suspected. The cloth wrapped around the murder weapon's handle wasn't blood-stained, it was just a piece of red cloth; the only blood was on the blade itself.

He wasn't quite sure what that meant yet, but it was something. Maybe he could use it to draw something out of Godot today when the man was called to testify. Nick smiled a little to himself and wondered what Mia would think.

"Dollar forty-nine for your thoughts, Nicky?"

Nick's head jerked up and he raised an eyebrow at Maya, he really ought to ask her how she managed to appear out of no-where like that. "It's 'a penny for your thoughts' Maya."

"It is? Huh, well I still need a dollar forty-nine for a snack from the vending machine." The mystic replied with a sly smile. "C'mooon! You owe me for bringing Mister Godot in." she nodded to the taller man beside her, looking strangely subdued this morning.

Phoenix smirked, "Bringing him in?" he glanced to Godot, trying to meet his invisible eyes. "I suspect it's the other way around…"

Maya pouted, opening her mouth to protest, but Godot cut her off, handing her a five-dollar bill from his waistcoat pocket. "Here ya go kitten. Get me a coffee too while you're at it."

Maya beamed and bowed, "Thank you Mister Godot! You're so much more generous than Nick!" she turned and stuck her tongue out at Nick, then scurried off to the vending machines.

Nick rolled his eyes and turned his attention onto his client. "Sorry she's been bothering you. But the good news is that I might have a new lead in this case. I'm gonna have to be tough on you in court but-"

"Please, Trite, I've come back from the dead, there's nothing your words can do to hurt me." Godot replied without seeming to engage at all. He turned and stared out of the window, distracted. "…Trite, little Maya…" he paused then shook his head. "Nevermind. I'm gonna go help the kid pick a snack." He muttered, then wandered off after the girl.

Phoenix shook his head, What's got into everyone lately?

Across the lobby, at the big glass doors, Miles strolled in and took an immediate scan of the room, smiling as he spotted Nick, who appeared to be engrossed in a file, which made a change.

Miles was surprised at how much he'd missed the man. He'd tried to call him the night before, but every time the line had been engaged, and eventually in the small hours he'd given up and decided on apologising in person. That night he'd slept uneasily for the first time in a long time, missing the feeling of Nick next to him, feeling safe and protected and loved.

He took a deep breath, steadying himself, then took the first step towards the man he loved.

"Mister Edgeworth!"

Miles bit his lip and made a solemn promise to himself that he would have Gumshoe's head stuffed and mounted on his wall. "Yes, Detective Gumshoe?"

Gumshoe must have sensed the tone, because he suddenly looked hesitant. "Uh… we've got some new information on your case."

"Obviously, or you wouldn't have bothered me." Miles snapped back. "What is it Gumshoe?"

"Well Mister Wright called the department last night and asked us to analyse the cloth wrapped around the knife handle and uh…" he paused and handed over the file.

Miles gave it a puzzled look, but opened and read quickly.

"Son of a…" he hissed between clenched teeth. "Gumshoe! Get back to the crime lab at once and tell them I want a full work-up done on the cloth, anything, no matter how insignificant, needs to be reported." He frowned, the creases in his forehead showing. "What the hell is going on here?"