A/N: For this chapter especially I feel compelled to remind everyone (as if all the warnings in the game weren't enough, lol) that the events in PW are in no way intended to reflect proceedings in any existing judicial system. I know, and you know, that a lot of what Phoenix does on his own is actually part of a police officer's job, but for the purposes of a—hopefully—exciting story, I've just sort of…stretched the truth. Anyway, here you are. As always, please R&R…they really make my day.

July 17, 3:31 pm, Detention Center

Phoenix didn't know what to think of the fact that he had succeeded where Edgeworth hadn't; the defense attorney had gotten an interview with one Charles Myne, convicted felon. But he knew better than to gloat; Myne probably had some obscure reason that was going to be hell to explain to Edgeworth.

"What's wrong, Nick?" Maya asked curiously, leaning forward to get a better look at Phoenix's face. He shook his head.

"Nothing. Shall we go in?" he held open the visiting room door; Maya grinned at him and skipped through, and Phoenix followed behind, letting the heavy door swing closed behind them. A guard stood on the other side of the glass that separated the two halves of the room; when he saw them enter, he nodded and opened the door on his side, beckoning for someone to come in. A short, scrawny looking man in his fifties shuffled into the room, looking straight at Phoenix. The man sat down on the other side of the glass and waited, still watching them.

"Ah, Mr. Myne?" Phoenix said, clearing his throat. The short man grinned.

"Isn't that who you asked for?" Myne chuckled.

"Ah, yes. I suppose." Phoenix and Maya exchanged a glance; the spirit medium shrugged.

"Mr. Myne," Phoenix said slowly, "I heard that you refused to meet with the prosecutor on this case. I don't suppose you could tell me why?"

The other man shrugged.

"It's no big surprise, sure," he replied. "Prosecutors have too close a tie to the state—to the law," he said. "But you—pft. Everyone knows defense attorneys are crooks, anyway."

Don't look so sincere when you say that! Phoenix thought, blanching. Maya looked up at him, wide-eyed.

"Is that true?" she whispered. Phoenix gave her a sidelong glance.

"Go ask Mia."

Maya frowned, sucking in air as she mulled it over. Phoenix turned back to regard Mr. Myne curiously.

"But, forgive me for saying this," Phoenix said, "you're already in jail. I don't think it could get much worse—well, I mean…your case has been closed for two years."

Mr. Myne shrugged.

"That's true, Mr. Attorney. Nevertheless."

Phoenix shook his head slowly. What on earth was he talking about?

"I…see," he said, though he clearly didn't. "Well then, I guess we should move on. I was wondering if you could tell us about your own circumstances, Mr. Myne."

"By that you mean my crime?" Myne asked, wearing an amused smile. "I love lawyer-talk, it's so woefully circular."

"Um, sure." Whatever you say.

"Well, it's no secret," Myne said with a shrug. "I stole things, got caught, and was convicted. Easy as that."

Phoenix was not convinced. "You plead guilty…so you could receive a lighter sentence?"

Something flickered across Myne's face for a second, but it was gone so quickly that Phoenix wasn't sure that he hadn't imagined it.

"I guess you could say that," he said evasively. Phoenix frowned.

"Mr. Myne…" he began, but the other man shook his head.

"Look, I can't help it if you're asking all the wrong questions."

"What?" Phoenix's eyes narrowed slightly. "What do you mean, 'the wrong questions?'"

"I think he means that they're not the right ones," Maya supplied helpfully. Phoenix ignored that, and Myne shrugged again.

"The defense attorney who was here yesterday, well—she was classy, I'll give her that," Myne said with an admiring grin as he remembered his previous visitor. "And she knew what she was talking about."

Hey, I just got thrown into this case this morning, Mister, Phoenix thought sourly. Give me a break, here.

"That's part of the reason I'm here," Phoenix told the prisoner. "She's disappeared."

Myne's eyebrows lifted; he stood up, shaking his head.

"I'm sorry, I've gotta go," he said, backing away.

"Wait!" Phoenix said immediately. "I need to know what you talked about! Two innocent lives are on the line, here!"

Myne stopped in the middle of signaling to his guard, and turned around. He studied Phoenix for a moment; Phoenix stared unflinchingly back at him. Myne sighed, squared his shoulders, and resumed his seat.

"Fine. But only because I liked her," he said, looking away. "She reminded me…of my daughter."

Phoenix nodded; he wasn't going to argue.

"Thank you," he said. "Let's just go through this as quickly and painlessly as possible, then. You were accused of committing three robberies in the La Ville complex, correct?"

Myne nodded.

"You were apprehended in the middle of the third robbery and taken to trial, where you plead 'guilty,'" Phoenix continued. "But you know, I don't think you were the real thief at all."

The older man looked down at his hands, but not before Phoenix saw his bitter smile.

"You were a security guard in the complex," Phoenix said, holding up a picture; in it, a younger Myne wearing a security uniform was looking up from a computer screen, smiling at the camera. "You worked at the La Ville for thirty-three years, with a squeaky clean record and a good reputation. Then all of a sudden, in the course of a year, you performed three robberies? I suppose it's plausible; that you were biding your time until then, scoping out the systems. But thirty-three years? An overwhelming amount of changes would have occurred over the years; that simply isn't practical."

Maya, who was watching and listening, peered over at Phoenix. Was he using the magatama? She didn't think so...she frowned. But Phoenix wasn't done yet.

"So you must have been working for someone else," Phoenix said. "But who was that person? And why did you agree to work for them? That's what I don't know, and what I came here to find out. Because that person…is likely responsible for murder."

Myne sighed, rubbing wearily at one temple.

"My family lived in the complex, Mr…Wright, was it?"

Phoenix nodded.

"And in fact, they still do, despite the shame. It is simply because…they have no where else to go. My wife is a remarkable woman, but since she only holds a high school diploma, there are not a lot of job options for her. She holds down whatever jobs she can, to support our kids—well, our daughter's grown now, and on her own, but our son…he's about to start college." Myne shifted uncomfortably.

"We managed to buy into the La Ville at a very reduced price, because I had already been working there. If not, we could never have afforded it, on our salaries. Anyway, Mr. Wright, you are correct. The night I was caught, I was found in that apartment because I was trying to warn someone—the occupants had just come through the main gate. The intended target—a famous first-edition of Sherlock Holmes, was found in my hands when the family entered the apartment—the perfect set up, you'll agree. I took the wrap for the other two robberies, as well, even though they never found the goods."

"Why?" Phoenix asked intently. "Why did you take the sentence for a crime you didn't commit?"

Myne shrugged. "I have a family to support, Mr. Wright. I agreed to help in those wild schemes because if not, the real thief…threatened to 'relieve' us of our home. The police had been closely investigating those two previous robberies, because the victims were fairly important people with a lot of influence, and the stolen items were worth small fortunes—you can imagine the insurance companies were also very interested in having this thief caught. A scapegoat was needed, to throw the police off the scent of the real thief; after all, once I was safely behind bars, if the thief laid low for a while, everything would be forgotten. The victims would be satisfied that I was in prison, and everyone would be happy."

"Let me guess," Phoenix said grimly. "This thief also threatened your family if you didn't take the fall. He'd kick out your family if you spoke, as well, I imagine."

Myne was about to nod, but then he froze, looking slowly up to meet Phoenix's gaze.

"Just because he hasn't been operating in the area for a while doesn't mean he hasn't been in action at all," Phoenix continued reasonably. "He must be making a fortune. And who is this person, who has so much influence in the fate of your family? Who could threaten to have you removed from your apartments?"

Myne said nothing. Phoenix stood up.

"Thank you, Mr. Myne. I appreciate your cooperation today."

Maya threw him a startled look.

"We're going, Maya. There's no time."

"You know who it is?" she asked, surprised. Phoenix nodded. She jumped up.

"Well, what are you waiting for, then?" she asked, grabbing him by the hand. "Let's go!" They raced out of the room.

July 17, 4:02 pm, La Ville Apartment Complex

Edgeworth slammed the door of his car shut and walked quickly over to the complex's lobby. It had taken him much more time than expected to receive the search warrant, because the detective who had filled it out…had lost it. By the time it had been found (under the detective's desk), Edgeworth didn't even bother to reprimand the poor man; he grabbed it and left, determined to make it back to the La Ville on time. His car wove through the streets at top speed, but his car, an expensive, sporty import, was easily distinguished as "Prosecutor Edgeworth's car" and every police officer who saw it casually looked the other way. The rumor in the department was that anyone who dared to give him a speeding ticket would be paying for it out of their next month's paycheck; it had never been proven, and likely never would.

So it was that Edgeworth sped through the streets unmolested (unless one counted a very irate old woman who had nearly been run over, though in the prosecutor's defense, she had been J-walking) and arrived at the La Ville Complex far too soon after he left the police station. He went immediately through the lobby to the area with the first floor apartments, looking for #115—the apartment belonging to a certain superintendent. He knocked briskly on the door; the search warrant was tucked neatly into his back pocket. He would try courtesy first. Even though the man hardly warranted it; too many things were starting to add up. At Edgeworth's request, the blood sample from the parking lot had been tested against Chess', and the match was confirmed. That alone was suspicious, but all of the talk about theft, and Chess' strange behavior, had been enough to get a warrant for the search of his apartment.

There was a muted shuffling on the other side of the door, and after a few moments he heard the bolt being drawn. The door creaked open, and an old woman peered out at him.

"Oh, hello," she said with a wide smile. "How may I help you?"

"Ah, I'm looking for Mr. Chess," Edgeworth said doubtfully; was this the wrong apartment?

"Oh, my son just stepped out," the old woman replied. The door swung open wider to reveal that she was using a walker; she leaned heavily against device as she spoke. "He went to pick up dinner. We eat together every night." She beamed up at Edgeworth, who nodded politely. Ah, that explains what she's doing here, I guess. He must bring her down to have dinner with him every night. Although…it is rather early. But then, the elderly do eat early, he remembered.

"Do you suppose I could wait for him?" Edgeworth asked. "It's urgent that I speak to him; it's regarding a case I am working on. I'm Prosecutor Edgeworth, by the way," he said, inclining his head gracefully.

"Oh, of course, you must mean that tenant's murder," the woman said, with genuine sadness. "She was such a sweet girl. Well, by all means, come in, come in. He should be back soon."

"Thank you," Edgeworth said. Mrs. Chess laboriously turned her walker around and began to shuffle back into the main part of the apartment; Edgeworth leaned over to hold open the door while she did so. She smiled up at him in thanks; he closed the door and followed her into the living room.

"Please, have a seat, and don't mind the mess," she chortled. "Ritter's such a messy boy, but it can't be helped, I suppose. If I were healthier, I'd keep this place clean, but ah." She shrugged good-naturedly. Edgeworth declined her offer to sit, and instead moved absently about the room, looking at pictures and items in the room, discreetly performing part of his investigation. Mrs. Chess watched him with a smile.

"Oh, yes, those pictures; isn't he such a handsome boy?" she asked proudly. Edgeworth obligingly took a second look at the picture she was indicating with one gnarled finger. It was a photograph of Mrs. Chess and her son; he was standing with one arm casually thrown about his mother's shoulder, his long black hair snapping in the wind. The photograph appeared to have been taken only a few years ago, as Mrs. Chess didn't look that much younger than she was now, though she was still standing straight—probably it had been taken before her stroke.

"He did look so dashing with that long hair, just like his father," she said with a hint of regret. "But I guess he's right, it's much more professional short. Though I must confess, a little part of me was sad when he came home like that the other night."

Edgeworth frowned and turned to regard her.

"The other night?" he repeated. She smiled sadly.

"Yes. I suppose I just still haven't gotten used to the change. He's had that long hair since he was a teenager, and in that rebellious stage."

"I see," Edgeworth replied. He glanced at all the other family portraits in the room and saw that this was indeed true; Mr. Chess wore his hair in a loose horse tail fashion in all of them.

"Do you have any kids, Mr. Edgeworth?" the old woman asked. Edgeworth balked.

"Ah, no," Edgeworth said hastily.

"Oh," she said, clicking her tongue in sympathy. "That's too bad. I suppose you don't really have the time, being a high profile prosecutor and all of that."

"Um, yes?" Edgeworth tried, trying to hide his baffled expression. I'm only 26! He blinked. Should I be having kids already? He shook off the terrifying thought. Never mind.

"They are a treasure," Mrs. Chess said serenely, obviously oblivious to her guest's discomfort. "Though of course, they do have their more taxing moments."

"Indeed," Edgeworth agreed. Whatever you say, lady.

"Where does your mother live?" she asked. Edgeworth summoned a brief, tight smile.

"She passed away," he said shortly.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," Mrs. Chess said, embarrassed but apparently undeterred in her curiosity. What is this, twenty questions? Edgeworth thought in irritation. He did not like discussing his personal life, and certainly not with this stranger—the mother of a suspect, no less. His personal life was not at all what one might expect to hear about, after all. How could he suitably explain that his father had been murdered by a famous prosecutor, who then proceeded to become his mentor? Precisely; it couldn't really be explained, not without dredging up a lot of unwanted pity and feelings that he himself had shut away years ago.

"It's always nice to see one's children; I do miss my own mother," Mrs. Chess said vaguely with a dreamy expression on her wizened face.

"He visits you daily, then?" Edgeworth asked, glad for the chance to change the focus of the conversation back to her son, rather than on himself.

"Yes, although of course lately it hasn't been necessary, what with me staying here and all," she said with a smile. Edgeworth stopped in his tracks.

"What did you say?" he asked tersely. Mrs. Chess didn't seem to notice the sudden tension in the room.

"My room's being renovated; Ritter is such a dear," she said. "But anyway, I can't be up in that room when they're working on it, so I've been here—since a couple days ago, really."

Edgeworth's hands curled into fists; he squeezed then tightly before releasing them once again.

"Mrs. Chess, you don't happen to have your key with you, do you?" He asked casually. She nodded.

"Yes, I do, actually—why?"

"Can I borrow it?" he asked. "It's very important; I will return it to you as soon as I'm done with it. You have my word."

"I don't understand," she said, frowning. "Why do you need it? They're working in there—you might get hurt if you get in the way," she said. "And maybe it's not locked, anyway—"

"Please," Edgeworth said, fighting to keep his patience. "Please just trust me. We're talking about…a life."

Mrs. Chess looked at him uncertainly, but then she nodded.

"It's right there, on the bureau behind you," she said, gesturing. Edgeworth whirled around, his eyes searching for the key; as soon as he saw it, he grabbed it and headed for the door.

"I'll be right back," he said, and without another word, he hurried out of the room, pulling his phone out of his pocket. His phone had been on silent for some reason, and he had one missed call, but there was no time to look into it now.

"Hello? Yes, I need that back-up now," Edgeworth said curtly. "And I think we'll be needing an ambulance as well; yes, that's at the La Ville; apartment #463. Be here as soon as possible; I need to look into the situation now."

"What? But Mr. Edgeworth," a voice on the other end protested, "just give us a few minutes—"

"There's no time, detective. I'll be fine," Edgeworth replied. "Simply hurry up." He snapped shut his phone; he had reached the stairwell. He opened the door and started up the stairs, taking them two at a time until he reached the fourth floor, breathing just slightly harder (he was used to stairs, after all). He pushed open the stairwell door and ran out onto the landing, heading straight for the room he had visited earlier that day. He jerked to a stop in front of the door and slid the key into the lock; it clicked open and he burst through the door, shoving it closed behind him. He ran through the living room, looking around quickly, and then headed for the bedrooms. He stuck his head into the first doorway and his jaw tightened when he saw what—or who, rather—was in it.

A small bed stood in the room with a single occupant lying perfectly still upon it; the windows were closed and the curtains were tightly drawn. He crossed the room in two long strides and bent over the unconscious defense attorney, pressing his fingers lightly against her bruised wrist in an attempt to find a pulse. He was startled by how cold she was; his glance fell upon several discarded syringes lying next to her on the bedspread and his mouth hardened. He shrugged off his jacket and wrapped her in it before scooping her up in his arms; Aion was about as light as she looked. Her head drooped against his own, her face falling against his shoulder as he held her body curled tightly to his chest; a small sigh of relief escaped his lips as he felt the slight pressure that indicated that she was breathing. Concerned with his passenger, he didn't hear the sound of a door being opened as he made his way back through the hallway, taking care not to jostle his burden too much.

"Mr. Edgeworth," a cold voice said as the prosecutor stepped back into the living room. "And here I thought we were on the same page with this trial; weren't you going to see Mr. Onyx put in chains tomorrow? How unfortunate."

Edgeworth stiffened. Mr. Chess was standing in the living room facing them, with his back to the front door. He held a small pistol in one hand, and Edgeworth was willing to bet that he knew exactly how to use it.

"I had no idea prosecutors were such heroic people," Mr. Chess continued, looking amused. "What a surprise."

Edgeworth tightened his arms and felt a slight shift in response against his chest; he quickly concealed his astonishment behind another intense glare. Was Aion…awake? He felt something brush against his waist, as if she were freeing a hand, and then he felt something hard—his phone?—being eased out of the pocket of his coat that had been previously pressed against his stomach. What on earth is she doing?

"There are police in the entire complex," Edgeworth told Mr. Chess calmly, determined to keep the other man from noticing Aion. The slender woman's face wasn't in view, and her hands were hidden beneath the coat wrapped around her, but Edgeworth wasn't taking any chances. "They'll be here any moment."

Chess rolled his eyes.

"They always do say that, don't they?" he said airily. "Well, there really doesn't seem to be anything they can do about it. I know all of the secrets of the place; by the time they get here, all that will left are two dead bodies." He raised the pistol, pointing it straight at Edgeworth's head. "Ready?"

Just then, a sudden loud sound broke the tension in the room; a flicker of annoyance crossed Chess' face.

"Your phone," Edgeworth said politely. Chess shrugged.

"Whoever it is can wait," he replied. His finger tightened on the trigger and Edgeworth instinctively turned slightly so that Aion was less of a target. Dry lips brushed against his ear and his eyes narrowed; "Tell him…to answer," she murmured, just loud enough for him to hear (he hoped).

"I believe it is in your best interest to answer," Edgeworth told the other man, his voice deliberately careless. Chess narrowed his eyes.

"Why?"

The phone continued to ring, and Edgeworth shrugged.

"Don't, and let's find out," he dared. Chess' eyes glinted with annoyance, but, keeping his gun still trained on Edgeworth's head, he pulled out his cell phone and received the call.

"Yes?" Chess spat, his voice tense. Evidently the phone was on speaker; a familiar voice came through.

"I suggest either putting the gun down, or moving," the voice instructed mildly. Is that…Wright? Edgeworth thought, incredulous.

"Why should I?" Chess scoffed.

"Because you're standing in clear view of the window," the voice replied. "The sniper informs me that you are within his crosshairs at this very moment—"

Chess swore and leaped to the side just as Edgeworth tightened his arms around Aion and sprang forward, knocking the man down. Chess leapt to his feet again and started shooting just as the front door burst open.

"Put the gun down, pal!" Gumshoe shouted, his own gun trained on Chess. Several other police officers flooded into the room around them, all aiming at Chess. The thief-turned-murderer-kidnapper glared at them, breathing hard. He raised his hands, as if he were about to surrender; then, with one last mocking smile, he swiftly brought the gun up to his own head—and fired. Edgeworth turned away, holding his free hand protectively over Aion, who was still mostly concealed under his jacket. Gumshoe and the other police officers stared at the bloody scene before them.

"Mr. Edgeworth…I think…why don't you get out of here," Gumshoe said weakly, ushering the prosecutor out the door. "We'll take care of this…mess." Edgeworth gave a short nod, and made for the exit.

"That was…" a faint voice murmured in his ear; Edgeworth glanced down at the woman he was carrying. Aion had shifted her head slightly so that she could look up at him; she managed a brief smile.

"Prosecutor…Edgeworth," she said softly. "Sorry about this. I would…walk—"

"Never mind," Edgeworth said shortly. Aion closed her eyes; neither of them said anything more as as he headed for the elevator. As soon as they reached the ground floor, paramedics and more police started running toward them, followed by a certain blue-suited lawyer and his eccentrically dressed assistant.

"Edgeworth! Aion!" Phoenix said, clearly relieved to see the two of them. His eyes darted from Aion to the man carrying her.

"Is she all right?" Phoenix asked; his voice was strained with worry. A few paramedics edged around the lawyer and nodded at Edgeworth, who—rather reluctantly—handed Aion over; the woman had slumped against him again, unconscious. The other police officers had already started up the stairs, heading for the fourth floor.

"Mr. Edgeworth, what happened?" Maya asked, wide-eyed, as she and Phoenix followed him to the ambulance. The back doors of the vehicle were open and Edgeworth sat down on the ledge as instructed, submitting himself to the medical once-over with impatience.

"Chess committed suicide," Edgeworth replied, leaning back against the open door with his arms folded tightly across his chest. "He had Ai—Ms. Mercury in that room, drugged, I suspect."

Phoenix raised his eyebrow at Edgeworth's correction, but said nothing.

"How did you know she was there?" the defense attorney asked. Edgeworth shook his head.

"Discovered it by chance as I was waiting for Chess to return to his apartment. How did you know to call him?"

Phoenix grinned and held up his phone.

"I received a very explicit text message from your phone," he said, handing the phone to Edgeworth. The prosecutor wearily scrolled to the message inbox.

"Chess – gunpoint. Call Chess, 984-6584. Bluff."

Edgeworth raised an eyebrow.

"She memorized his number?"

Phoenix shrugged.

"Apparently. Anyway, I just did as I was told. I've had a lot of practice with bluffing, after all." He gave a wry smile. Edgeworth just shook his head.

"She is…remarkable," he murmured. Phoenix regarded him thoughtfully.

"Indeed, she is."

July 18, 8:48 am, Hotti Clinic

"I still cannot believe they won't let me attend the trial today," Aion grumbled, setting her pen down in irritation. Phoenix laughed as he walked into the room, trailed by Maya and another tiny girl--Pearl.

"Aion, just yesterday your blood was pumped full of all kinds of unhealthy things. I think you should give it at least a couple more days before you start working again."

His old friend just rolled her eyes.

"But I'm bored, Nick," she said in her most deliberately childish voice. Phoenix grinned at her.

"Oh no, you're not getting your case back—not when just the easy part's left," he joked. Aion grinned back at him.

"Are you feeling better, Ms. Mercury?" Maya asked, her voice full of concern. Aion smiled at her.

"Yes, actually."

Behind Maya, another little girl peered out at the woman sitting in the bed; Phoenix nodded gently at her. The girl edged over to Aion, holding out a beautiful bouquet of white chrysanthemums.

"We were told they stand for 'truth,'" Phoenix said wryly. "I figured that was something we could all appreciate."

"Indeed," Aion said with a smile. Pearl busied herself with arranging the flowers on the small bedside table next to her; Aion looked over the tiny girl at Phoenix.

"Another one?" she mouthed, looking amused. Phoenix made a face at her.

"You have no idea," he murmured, leaning over to speak into her ear. "She's Maya's cousin; I had to do some fast talking to explain that we were just visiting an old friend of mine—a classmate."

Aion looked at the small, red mark on Phoenix's face—it was the shape of a tiny handprint.

"I see," she said with undisguised amusement.

"Yes, I believe you do," he said dryly, rubbing his cheek. A sound at the door made them all turn to look; the door opened to reveal Edgeworth, looking uncharacteristically ill at ease.

"Mr. Edgeworth," Aion said carefully, smiling at him. "Please, come in."

He closed the door quietly behind him and turned to hand Aion a large bouquet—a mixture of pink and yellow tulips, exquisitely arranged and tied with a large white bow. Aion looked up from the flowers, wearing an odd expression.

"Thank you; tulips are beautiful."

Edgeworth shrugged.

"I'm glad to see you looking well," he said wryly. Aion grimaced slightly.

"I hate hospitals," she said, gesturing helplessly about her. Edgeworth's lips quirked.

"Nick," Maya hissed, pulling Pearl close to her. The three of them had retreated slightly to the back of the room. "Nick, what did the flower shop lady say that pink tulips meant again?" she asked in a remarkably discreet whisper.

"'Care,'" Phoenix said slowly, "but yellow ones mean 'hopelessly in love.' I remember because Pearls was telling me that I should—" he stopped abruptly, but Maya didn't seem to notice.

"Oh, how romantic," she squealed. "Don't they look good together, Nick? Mr. Edgeworth—well right now he looks like he'd rather be anywhere else, really, but yesterday, when he came out carrying her, he looked protective, and almost…serene…as if he was finally comfortable."

Phoenix looked sharply down at the younger girl; it was a surprisingly insightful observation, for Maya.

"I think that was just the shock of the day wearing down his usual defenses," he said dryly. Maya flashed him a look of irritation.

"Shhh," she ordered. "I want to hear what they're saying."

"Nothing of importance," Edgeworth said, raising his eyebrows at them. He straightened.

"Well, I just wanted to make sure that you were well, Ms. Mercury," he said, giving her a curt nod.

"Actually," Phoenix interrupted, ushering the two girls toward the door, "why don't you keep Aion company for a few moments; we'll be right back, and she shouldn't be left alone…" before either of them could object, Phoenix whisked the two girls out of the door and followed suit, closing the door behind them. He watched tolerantly while Maya pressed her ear to the door; Pearl looked back and forth between them, obviously confused.

"What are they saying?" Phoenix murmured. Maya shook her head.

"I don't think…" she trailed off uncertainly, and then her eyes grew suddenly wide. She stepped to the side just as the door opened; Edgeworth frowned down at her.

"I'll see you at the trial," the prosecutor said to Phoenix, and then he was walking down the hall, toward the hospital exit. Phoenix frowned, and followed him.

"Edgeworth, wait," he called. The prosecutor glanced over his shoulder, but didn't stop.

"Edgeworth," Phoenix tried again; he reached out and caught Edgeworth's shoulder. The prosecutor finally stopped, crossing his arms and tapping his foot impatiently.

"Yes? Court convenes in an hour, Wright," Edgeworth said irritably.

"I know, I have to be there too," Phoenix replied coolly. He jerked his head back toward Aion's room. "But you can spare a few minutes. It's not like you have a case to put together, anymore." He looked meaningfully at his old classmate-turned stranger-turned rival-friend, marveling—not for the first time—at how they'd both changed.

"Thank you, for your usual tact," Edgeworth said scornfully. "As you say, your case is already won. There's no need for you—or her—to…appeal to me."

"Edgeworth," Phoenix said sharply. The prosecutor just shook his head.

"I'll see you in court."

He was gone.

Phoenix turned around and headed back into Aion's room; Maya and Pearl had already returned and were chatting happily with the female defense attorney.

"I'm sorry, Aion," Phoenix said, sitting down on one of the chairs next to the bed. "Edgeworth has always been…difficult."

Aion gave a crooked smile.

"That's all right, Nick. I think I understand."

"At least someone does," Phoenix muttered. He stood up, and was about to gesture for the girls to follow him, when the theme song for "The Steel Samurai" blared out of his jacket pocket. Aion smiled.

"Hello?" Phoenix's eyebrows flew up in surprise as he listened to the person on the other end. He covered the receiver with one hand; "I'll be right back, I have to take this call," he mouthed to Aion. She nodded and waved him out. Once outside, Phoenix removed his hand.

"Ms…von Karma?"

A/N: yay! Long chapter over, finally. Sorry about the violence, if that kind of things upsets you...sorry! Anyway, hopefully the chapter wasn't too much of a disappointment. The final chapter should be up...in a week or so. (At least, right now it's looking like the chapter 9 should be the final one, but...things happen. /Shrug) Thanks for reading!