Edgeworth sunk into the sumptuous armchair mere moments after entering his apartment

A/N; Ah. Sorry this took so long, I started the chapter on April 14th, and have only just finished it… xP But yes, apologies. I went away for a week, and was studying before/completely lost the will to write. Ah well. It's not returned entirely, but we shall see.

Thanks for the reviews, though. xP

Oh, and I'm aware Gumshoe's not too in-character here. But I fail at Gumshoe characterisation xP.

Buuut yes, please everyone, continue to read and review XP. I adore critique, and there needs to be more nitpicking!

Edgeworth sunk into the sumptuous armchair mere moments after entering his apartment. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, eyes fixed on the wooden floor. Very little had happened since it had been discovered that Phoenix had been abducted, save the frantic activities of the frankly useless police force. He could remember Maya's face when he told her; those large brown eyes filling up with yet more tears and a sudden blanching of her face. Despite his imagined 'rivalry' with her, he had tried to comfort the spirit medium to the best of his abilities. Granted, said abilities consisted of him gingerly patting her on the back, but it was the thought that counted, no?

The clicking of claws on wood alerted the prosecutor to the arrival of his big furry friend as Pesu padded from the kitchen where he had made his bed. The big dog snuffled as he entered the office – a place usually interdicted to him by Edgeworth – and approached his master, furry head canted to one side. The dog whined and plopped his head in Edgeworth's lap, ignoring the man's sounds of protests as the dog proceeded to ruin the trousers with a copious amount of saliva.

Edgeworth glanced down at the dog and scratched one ear half-heartedly. Why did I force him out? He thought as he stared down at the dog who was trying his best to get more attention. Edgeworth bad begun to drift into the realms of self-pity; he was assured that Phoenix's abduction had been his fault. Never mind that Edgeworth could not have possibly gone into the defendant's lobby without causing some stir, nor could he personally vet the bailiffs. Although there would certainly be a reckoning with the security company. Affectionately pushing the dog away, Edgeworth got to his feet slowly and tiredly, glancing up at the clock in passing. 2AM. Fantastic.

The only real reason, Edgeworth contemplated as he moved from his personal office, he had been sent home was that he had apparently been 'getting in the way' of the police investigation. Although, he remarked with a snort of derisive laughter, There wasn't much to get in the way of. Pesu could conduct the investigation better. It rankled him that the only thing happening was an investigation. Did Phoenix not merit better? If Edgeworth had been in chance… he mused with a bit of a snort and paused for a long moment, staring at the dining room table with nostalgia evident in his eyes. That very morning, Phoenix had been breakfasting with him. He rested hands on the chair the man had sat in and stared at it bleakly.

He was numb as he paced up the stairs, dog following him happily and panting. He slunk into his bedroom, lost in the maze of thoughts as he changed into his pyjamas. He was still relentlessly blaming himself for letting Phoenix go.

"I should have been there," he muttered as he pulled on a pair of sweatpants, shaking his head. He realised, belatedly, that they were the pair he had borrowed from Phoenix. He bit at his lower lip and left his room silently, walking with silent footsteps. He paused before another door, barely aware of his mental processes as he opened the door into the room he had allocated to Phoenix. He stood in the doorway, staring at the room.

"He could have at least made the bed," Edgeworth grumbled as he twitched the bedding in place, and froze. He abruptly took a seat on the bed, looking around him at the room Phoenix had made his in so brief a space of time. With his innate ability to mess anything, he had left papers scattered here and there, as well as his nightclothes flung carelessly in a heap. It was all Phoenix – and it evoked such vivid memories of the man.

His first memory? That day of fourth grade when he had first met Larry and Phoenix, and been accepted as the mediator of sorts in their little group. Those days had been so brief, and yet an idyllic halcyon period. At least, it was wonderful in retrospect. He could still remember his fleeting annoyance at the Butz, and … here he paused, dredging up another memory he had once thought best left buried, a fierce desire to follow his father. And even that little 'mock trial' against Phoenix. He supposed that was where he truly struck up that bond with the boy. But those days had been so brief – it seemed like a flash of time and his father was dead. He was taken in by Manfred Von Karma, and his life changed irrevocably.

He got to his feet, rhythmically moving through the motions of tidying up the bedroom. He folded the clothing as he thought. Now that he was truly free of Von Karma's clutches – well, he wasn't free, was he? Von Karma was at large, and was holding the man Edgeworth held in high esteem –more than high esteem, but he refused to honestly say how he felt – hostage, or hell, even worse. Would he ever have the courage to turn defence lawyer? He quirked a smile wryly at that thought, sardonically mocking his own thoughts.

"And what? Set up in private practice with Wright and live happily ever after as one big family!" He grunted at his own folly and paused. Spying a bottle of the cologne Phoenix had a habit of wearing, he picked up the glass bottle with suddenly clumsy fingers. He misted a little onto his wrists and inhaled the scent, remorse tingeing his mind. He set the bottle down and absently wandered from the room, still holding his pale wrist up to breathe the scent that was, to him, quintessentially Phoenix.

As he slid into his bed, he groaned and set his head on his pillow. Tomorrow – or later today, rather – would be a difficult day. He would find Phoenix, never mind those incompetent idiots at the precinct. It took Edgeworth some time to fall into the abyss of sleep, and when he did, it was plagued by awful dreams. One particularly strong dream was Von Karma standing over Phoenix's dead body, with that heartless smirk on his face and blood staining his besmirched cravat.

Edgeworth woke up in a cold sweat, awaking with a sudden fright. His eyes flickered to the alarm clock by his bed – 8AM – and he sighed, rolling over onto his back. He stared at the ceiling with a sinking sense of despondency, wallowing once again in self pity. But he couldn't allow himself to remain in that state – there was work to be done, and a certain spiky-haired lawyer to rescue. So he remained in that state for a few minutes, trying to shake his mind from that peculiar morning haze that fuddled it, before staggering from his bed, and towards his bathroom.

He performed his morning ablutions as quickly as possible and approached his closet, staring at the selection. Choosing a magenta suit, an ink-grey vest, a white shirt and his typical snowy white cravat, he dressed quickly and padded downstairs. He could think better on a full stomach. And so the prosecutor grabbed his phone, retrieving the morning's paper from where it had fallen on his mat. He padded towards the kitchen, paper tucked under his arm as he dialled Gumshoe's number. He set the kettle to boiling and laid the paper on the table, listening to the ringing of his phone.

"Yeah?" Gumshoe answered the phone, finally.

"Gumshoe," Edgeworth greeted, taking his cup of tea and blowing on the hot liquid. "It's Edgeworth," as if he needed to be identified. "Any leads about Wright?"

"Er…" Gumshoe trailed off, debating how to say 'no' in a tactful and intelligent manner. However, instead he digressed entirely; "Sir, have you looked at the papers this morning?"

"No," the prosecutor murmured as he took a sip of his tea and flipped the paper over to the cover. He almost sprayed the tea across the counter as he read the headline; "TOP DEFENSE LAWYER SHOT AND ABDUCTED". Below was a picture of the prone Phoenix, face absurdly pale and a few specks of blood on his strong chin.

"Gumshoe," the prosecutor positively purred, "What happened to – oh, what were my words…" he trailed off, voice deceptively soft as he scanned through the article. The usual sensationalist rubbish and speculation as to the perpetrators; the current guilty parties were apparently a big-time mafia family. "Ah, yes. To not let the media – by that, I meant people like this bloody newspaper – " his cool façade was beginning to crack, evident in his slip into crudity, "Find out he was abducted. Did I not say that?"

"No sir! I- I mean, yes sir. I mean, those were your orders," Gumshoe stammered, "That was what you told me. But sir - !"

Edgeworth cut him off with a snarl, lip curling as he seemingly threw caution and apparent apathetic attitude to the wind. "Yes. That was what I told you. So tell me, Gumshoe, how did this happen?" he broke off and shook his head. The damned incompetent detective probably knew nothing. "Forget it," he muttered, leafing through the next few pages lazily. "Any leads, Gumshoe?"

"None at all, Sir. CCTV cameras didn't clearly catch their faces, and they were very careful with covering up, and fibres, pal…"

Edgeworth drew one hand up, resting his forehead as he stared at the counter blankly. "The gun," he muttered, recalling the scene as he saw it; Phoenix prone, the bailiff and the imposter struggling, with the gun tossed across the room. "What about the gun? It was taken for testing, no? And what about the bailiff's wound – "

"Sorry, pal. The impostor had gloves on, so the gun had no prints. The knife wound is still being analysed, and the bailiff is supposed to have a full recovery."

The prosecutor shook his head and hung up, not even bothering with his typical curt dismissal of Gumshoe. He stared at the headline, the bold face print engraving itself on his mind's eye. As he shut his eyes, Phoenix's death-like face was the only image he could see. He could remember with such vivid clarity the crimson blood that marred the marble floor.

Bright lights pierced Phoenix's eyelids, the light stabbing into his eyes with such ferocity that the man shifted. Or tried to. He suddenly felt the straps restraining his torso and legs, and frowned, struggling against them. For the moment, the pain that surged through his chest was only fuel, until with such sudden clarity that threatened to overwhelm him, he remembered exactly where he was, and why he was so restricted. He let one eyelid open slowly and a too-familiar face popped into his field of vision. Opening both eyes fully, he stared in comprehension.

"Dollie?" he murmured softly, not entirely sure what was going on. The events of earlier and the pain had clouded his mind to the point of confusion. "What're you doing here?"

"Ah, Feenie," the dulcet voice murmured as a cooling hand laid itself on his chest. He could feel the soft fingertips trace a path from his right shoulder, winding it's way across his chest. He could feel her hand wipe away a few specks of dried blood, before coming perilously to – he gasped in pain as she laid a hand on his wound, eyes clenching shut and hot darts of pain lancing his body. "Oh no," she murmured as she heard his sudden intake of breath at the renewed pain, "Did I hurt my Feenie?" He could detect her smirk as she increased pressure on the wound, and he groaned in pain. Then more, and more, until Phoenix literally shrieked with pain, back arching as the throbbing sensation threatened to break him.

Suddenly it was released, and through fluttering eyes Phoenix could detect a few more faces. The sweet voice returned as that too-familiar wonderful smile lightened Dahlia's features again. "You know why you're here, Feenie," she trilled, leaning close to him and smiling delightfully.

Then another voice chimed in, low but smooth and distinctly feminine. "You put us away, Phoenix," this voice purred and a puff of cigarette smoke made the attorney cough.

"Wright," the third voice barked, the much-reviled Von Karma coming into view. "All of us have been in prison for quite some time." His face, partially disguised by an elaborately, ludicrously large cravat, was contorted with hatred. "And we've suffered."

"We did suffer, Wright," Vasquez interjected, ignoring Von Karma's sudden filthy glare. "I think it's time you understand just how much we suffered."

And then Von Karma butted back in with a snort and a sudden haughty laugh. "You have no idea how tough death row is, Mr Wright, do you? For one of my calibre," he broke off, head high as he smirked. "For once, I must agree with Ms Vasquez. You must be made to comprehend our experience. Not just yourself," he paused and shook his head, "Yourself and that impudent little brat. Miles Edgeworth."

At Edgeworth's name, Phoenix grimaced and tried to escape Karma's ferocious gaze. Bad enough he had gotten himself shot – but had he put Edgeworth in danger? He recalled the last glimpse he had of the magenta-suited prosecutor – sitting in that car, with his insufferable smirk and condescension positively radiating from the man. It seemed only a few moments before a little laugh rang through the room – Dahlia's melodic chimes – before sudden pain lashed through his body. He snarled and writhed, before falling into wonderful, blessed unconsciousness.

Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring.

Edgeworth arched one eyebrow at his office phone, before reaching over to pick up the receiver with a long sigh. He had come into the offices that morning, battling through the mass of reporters that, for some ridiculously absurd reason, thought he was behind Phoenix's abduction. He snorted at that thought as he lifted the phone to his ear.

"Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth," he said curtly, staring at his computer monitor with dispassionate eyes. Gumshoe still had no news, and the media? Oh, they were having a field day.

"Edgeworth," an all-too familiar voice spoke, one that reminded him of a childhood he'd prefer to forget.

"Von Karma?" Letting a tinge of inquisitiveness enter his voice, the man frowned as he checked the handset. No, Von Karma had been clever enough to hide his number. Pity. Best to stay rational, though. Who knew what Von Karma was capable of – even if he was the culprit, the abductor whom had stolen Phoenix…

"It's been a long time, Miles Edgeworth, hasn't it?" The voice was affable – rather, as friendly as such a man could humanly get.

Oh, screw rationality. "What have you done with him?!" Edgeworth snapped, eyes darting up to his doors where a worried-looking secretary was peering in. He glowered at her, watching as the girl, pale-faced, abruptly shut the door and assumedly scurried off.

"You've cut to the chase as usual, Miles Edgeworth. Phoenix Wright is…" the voice was abruptly cut off by a loud noise, and a muffled scream. There came Von Karma's light snickering, "Alive. But, Miles Edgeworth, I can't promise he will remain so."

Edgeworth blanched – if it was possible to become even paler – as he heard the muffled scream, eyes squeezing shut as he shuddered. "Von Karma," he began, voice a low snarl, "I will find you. And you will die, once I –"

"Ah, now see Mile, this is our problem. If I die, then so does your little Phoenix Wright. What I want is you. I am offering you a deal, so still that impetuous mouth and listen to me. I have something you want – Mr Phoenix Wright here, this delightful little lawyer – and you have something I want. You. So I'm offering you this; your life, in exchange for his. And Miles Edgeworth, don't even think about talking to your incompetent little 'pal'. Come alone, or he dies. This is what I offer."

It didn't even take a second for Edgeworth to think; impetuous mouth? He snorted at that and nodded slowly. He had never been impetuous. "Deal," he snapped, "When, and where?"

"Ah. Good, I was hoping you would see sense. Why should I take my grievances out on this little lawyer? Tomorrow night. That wonderful park by your offices, at 9 o'clock. I will say it again; if the police shows up, he will die. And not soon. Oh, definitely not quickly."

"I will see you tomorrow night then." With that, he hung up the phone and stared at his monitor, wondering what on earth he was thinking? Of course Phoenix meant the world to him – but could he really take such a monumental risk? That didn't bear thinking of! Of course he would. Of course. He had a few things to attend to – then, perhaps, enjoy this night.