[April 17th, 3:05 pm, District Court-Courtroom No. 1]

Both counsels settled back onto their respective benches as the gallery and jury seated themselves. The judge waited a few moments, gavel in hand, for the court to fall in line. When it seemed most of the commotion had died out, he swung his gavel and called for order. "Thank you. If everyone is prepared, then this court will now reconvene for the trial of Pelleas Apoleus. When we last left our deliberations, Ms. Verra, you were tasked with retrieving a witness for whom the defense provided a plausible method of enacting the same crime for which Mr. Apoleus is charged. Since Mr. LeBlanc has declared his intent to formally indict the witness, it will be crucial that we extract some testimony for him in his own defense in order to bring this trial to a proper conclusion. To that end, Ms. Verra, do you have the witness in your custody?"

"I do," the prosecutor said with an especially cold look in her eyes, "And I would ask him to approach the witness stand now." As a tall, dark figure rose from the gallery, Ursula directed her cold eyes at Robin, who tried his best to match her glare, but she didn't seem the least bit daunted. Robin chose to look away, adequately unsettled, and focused his attention on the man who was now standing in the center of the court.

He was a strikingly tall man, probably at least six and a half feet tall, and he wore slimming black clothing all around: black pants held in place with a silver buckle and a black vest with a dark undershirt. He was also terrifically slim along his legs and arms—his chest was clearly a bit more muscular, showing that he was in good shape. His hair was long and cobalt blue, tied into a loose ponytail beyond his shoulders. His eyes were narrow and sharp, he sported a distinctly large and rounded bridge to his nose, and two red rings hung from each of his ears. His left hand was decorated with a silver ring.

"Your name and occupation for the court," Urusla demanded.

"My name," the man said in a deep voice that seemed steeped in bitterness, "is Naesala Scaltro. I'm a retired pilot of the Plegian Air Force."

Robin stared at the man intently. This was the criminal. Or, at least, so it seemed. It had to be, for there was no remaining explanation that could liberate Pelleas. For some reason Robin couldn't yet glean, this was the man who had murdered Leila Viscount and passed the buck onto Pelleas. He certainly fit the bill in looks: everything about his posture and expression told the court how much he hated being there, and how little he thought of them. Somehow, Robin would have to break past that confidence and dig into this man until he cracked. Recalling his mentor's words about entropy, Robin thought to speak up. "Are you married, Mr. Scaltro?" Robin asked, pointing to the ring on his finger.

Naesala Scaltro raised his eyebrows, as if acknowledging the attorney for the first time. "Hm? This? No, this is a memento from a bond formed in earlier days."

"What sort of bond?"

"I signed a blood pact."

The whole court fell silent and stared at the witness. Even the judge seemed hesitant to say anything, and it was safe to say Robin had been thrown off.

Naesala laughed a loud and jeering laugh that echoed through the whole courtroom. "I'm kidding." He flashed the ring to everyone in the room. "It's a service reward for my years as a pilot. A bit like a class ring, but a little more valuable, since not everyone can get one."

"Mr. Scaltro," Ursula said, clearing her throat to indicate that she was wresting this conversation out of the defense's hands, "As you were told before you were called up here, the defense has presented a case against you, indicting you for the murder of Ms. Leila Viscount. In order to defend against this allegation, you will now be asked to testify as to your whereabouts and movements on the day of the crime."

"Sure," said the witness, pushing back some of his hair, "I've heard the lies this kid has been hawking, and I'm not too pleased about it, so I'll go ahead and set the record straight. This whole murder conspiracy is about the dumbest thing I've ever heard, and I've heard some pretty dumb stuff in my day. I didn't get up from my table to knock somebody out and cut the power and put on a uniform and go kill some broad I've never met, plain and simple. I got up because I had to use the bathroom. Is that really so hard to believe? And I stayed in there a while because my stomach hurt—maybe on account of what I had at that café. Anyway, when I realized the lights had gone out in the bathroom, I figured it was because of the storm, so I just waited to see if it'd get fixed. I didn't want to have to fumble around with my pants in the dark, you know? And I made the right choice, because those lights came back on right quick, and then I sat back down, only to learn someone was dead. So yeah, to heard that I'm getting accused of murder because I had to use the john? I'm not happy. I'm not happy at all."

Robin pinched his chin as he listened to the testimony. When it ended, he turned to find his mentor doing nearly the same. "Sir," he said, "any advice on this one?"

"You've got your theory of events," Fado said, "and you did a pretty good job setting it up. If you can show some way that the witness's actions correspond with your theory, you'll be in good shape. Of course, as of right now, that's not really possible. He clearly needs to be lying, though, right? So, look for anything you might be able to call him out on. Even something small and stupid might drive a big enough wedge that you can go a little deeper."

"That makes sense. Thanks."

"Good luck, son."

"Mr. LeBlanc, I think we're all eager to hear your cross-examination," said the judge.

"Right away, Your Honor," the young attorney answered, "Mr. Scaltro, let me start by asking this: do you really not know the victim or defendant at all?"

"Nope. Why should I? They're just two shmucks at a café."

"But Mr. Apoleus is Ylisse's ambassador to Plegia."

"And? I'm ex-military, kid. I don't give a pigeon's feathers about some dressed-up politician."

Clearly nothing doing there. If he knows about them, he's not about to spill it right now. Better ask about something else.

"You said you waited around in the bathroom, Mr. Scaltro—why?"

"Like I said, I didn't want to risk having to futz with my pants in a dirty bathroom when I can't see. These things cost me a ton."

"And would you have just stayed there the whole evening if the power hadn't come back on?"

"No, of course not, I just figured I'd wait it out to see if it was gonna be that big a deal. Turns out I was right and it wasn't."

Hm. Well, he's staunch about his statements, if nothing else. Still, there must be some detail he omitted that I can capitalize on somewhere in here.

"You say you only learned that someone was dead after you sat down, Mr. Scaltro? How? Didn't you see the body?"

"Not really. She might have been slumped over, but I wasn't really paying attention. I only really had my eyes on my seat until I got back there, and then, when I sat down, that's when people started gathering around, and I realized something was up."

"When the witness saw the body is irrelevant to this case, anyway," the prosecutor added, "Unless you have something substantial to say about it, I suggest we drop this line of questioning."

It doesn't look like this track is getting me anywhere, either. Guess I'll just let this one pass.

"Er, so you didn't hear or see anything else on your way back from the bathroom, Mr. Scaltro?" Robin asked.

"Nah. Except the cook—I saw him talking to the waitress, but that was about it. After I left the bathroom, I just made a beeline for my seat, and that was all.

Darn. This is going nowhere. What he said lines up perfectly with the story as I presented it, so there's really nothing I can challenge him on, here. Shoot. What am I going to do? Every question I ask, his explanation is just too simple to get around! This is probably a result of him preparing with Ursula: she wanted to hear my whole version of events earlier in the trial so she could craft an alibi around it when I made my move. She's definitely still two steps ahead.

"You're making that face again, son," Fado said, eyes on the witness.

"Is it that obvious?"

"You can't be stumped so early, lad. You can put something together, here. I know you can."

"It's not as easy for me as it is for you, sir."

"Think of it as an exercise of your skills, then. There's no such thing as the perfect crime, lad: everybody makes mistakes. Do you think there's a small mistake our witness might have made?"

"I have no idea."

"Then take a guess. You won't be any worse off than if you had said nothing."

How can a man inspire so much and so little confidence at the same time?

"Mr. Scaltro," said Robin, "did you remember to pay your bill when you left the café?"

"Objection," Ursula called out, rolling her eyes, "absolutely irrelevant. Whether or not he paid will not change the witness's guilt in the murder of Ms. Viscount. There is no need to answer that question."

"I don't care," said Naesala, smirking at Robin, "No, I forgot. Tell you what, Mr. Attorney: I'll go pay 'em tomorrow. You can even come with me, if you want. Never known anyone to get so bent outta shape over the cost of a cup of coffee."

Several people in the gallery laughed, and Robin felt hot embarrassment pooling in his cheeks. Fado glanced down at his side for just a moment.

Ursula smiled and put her hand on her hip, pleased with her witness's wit. She projected this smile at Robin, and he squinted against its light.

That didn't go well. To think, so much of this trial has been all centered on a little thing like a cup of coffee, and it keeps coming up. Although, now that I think of it, there's something not quite right about that—a cup of coffee. Why does that strike my ear wrong?

"I think even the defense has run out of bluster for this court," Ursula said, standing back, "You really did perform admirably, Mr. LeBlanc. It has been quite some time since I was last so delayed in arriving at a verdict—I'll be studying my notes on this trial for weeks. But, unfortunately, all things must come to an end, and this ridiculous false narrative you've peddled must likewise conclude. I admit that you concocted a very plausible scenario, reaching in and rearranging details as you'd like, but you must realize now that things are not so complex as you attempted to make them seem. The fact is simple. After all, as I told you, I am always in complete control of my trials. I never miss a single detail. There is not one explanation I have not considered and prepared myself to combat."

Urgh. Her self-assured attitude is really grating in such a long trial, but she has the ability to back up some of that bragging. There really hasn't been any explanation I've offered that she hasn't been in some way prepared to argue. Was this trial lost before it even began?

"You're getting too worked up over the prosecutor," Fado said, his face expressionless. "Your job isn't to beat the opposition, lad. It's to drag out the truth, however you need to. Concentrate on the case, not the one presenting it."

"Yes, sir." Fado's right. If my suppositions are correct, I'm looking at the criminal right now, and that means he must have lied about something, however trivial. Or… maybe he didn't lie. Maybe not intentionally, anyway. Maybe, in trying to mask the truth, he accidentally changed a detail that will reveal something. Wait, I think that's it!

"Is your cross-examination finished, Mr. LeBlanc?" asked the judge, "If so, I believe the jury is prepared to render their verdict at any time."

"Not yet, Your Honor," Robin said. Ursula frowned at him and Naesala smirked, shaking his head. "Mr. Scaltro," the attorney continued, "allow me to repeat a few of your remarks for the court: you just said that you had 'Never known anyone to get so bent outta shape over the cost of a cup of coffee,' when asked about your failure to pay your bill. Is that right?"

"Yep. And it remains true," said the witness, shrugging. A few more laughs came from the gallery.

"Then I have another important question to ask, Mr. Scaltro: why did you say 'coffee?' Because you didn't drink any coffee while you were at the café."

One of Naesala's eyebrows shifted up. "What?"

"If you refer back to the security footage," Robin said, "You can look at the spot where we found you exiting the main room, Mr. Scaltro. Notice what's on the table there: water and bread, but no coffee to be found."

The witness was silent, but he was no longer smiling.

"Objection!" Ursula shouted, "What's to say the witness didn't simply have some coffee before his water?"

"We can rewind the tape to when he entered, if you'd like," Robin replied, "but judging from the look on the witness's face, he knows I'm right."

"Don't be too pleased with yourself" Ursula slammed her fist on her desk. "What possible relevance could this detail have to the case at hand? So the witness forgot what he drank that day? What does that matter?"

"The court will recall the method by which Ms. Viscount was poisoned… perhaps that's the reason for the witness's specific lapse in memory…"

"Objection!" Ursula's frown had melted back into a smile, but her eyes were still burning. "Ha! Don't make me laugh! What a tremendous leap in logic! The witness remembers drinking coffee, the victim was killed by drinking poisoned coffee, ergo the witness must be the murderer! Are you even listening to yourself?"

Robin swallowed. "It's an admittedly, er… loose connection, but—"

"'But' nothing. How you even managed to pass the bar with such poor reasoning skills is beyond me. Don't make me rescind all the offers of respect I just gave you, Mr. LeBlanc. Concede defeat with some of your dignity intact."

Damn. I thought that was my way out. It wasn't much, but I thought if I could just get it to stick…

"You're losing 'em fast, kid," said Fado.

"Tell me something I don't know."

"Fine: you give up now, and the momentum will swing permanently in the prosecution's favor. This is the only thing you've got right now, so seize on it. Double down. Sink your teeth into it and hold on for dear life."

Double down? How? It was just a little detail about him being at the café! Could he have missed anything else?

"If that's all, then—" the judge began.

"Wait! Just a moment, Your Honor!" Robin protested.

The judge grumbled, "You know, if you have something more to say, you should just say it instead of always waiting to interrupt me."

"Er, beg your pardon, Your Honor," said Robin, "but this is important—crucial, even!"

"Very well, proceed."

"Mr. Scaltro, something else I noticed from this tape: you get up, don't speak to any of the waitstaff, and go right to the bathroom—at least, so you say. That's a bit strange. According to Ms. Arealla, the bathroom's location in the back of the building, behind the kitchen, is confusing to a lot of patrons, and she has to explain it to many of them on a daily basis. Why did you get up and go right back there?"

"I want a hit of whatever you're on, kid," Naesala said, shaking his head derisively, "I'm pretty familiar with the Posto Ladro. I go there often enough, so I know where the stupid bathrooms are."

"O-Oh, really? What's your favorite dish?"

Naesala laughed. "You think you're gonna screw me up with that stupid video again? Yeah, I had some bread while I was there, but that's not my favorite. I was just popping in for a little snack. Usually, I go in for breakfast and get coffee and biscotti. That's my favorite."

"Can we be done with these stupid questions now, defense?" Ursula scowled at the attorney. "I don't much like having my time wasted like this."

Gulp. I guess this is it. I tried to come up with something, Fado, but it looks like I'm just not quite at your level. I guess losing when I'm this far along isn't so bad… I can say I put up a hell of a fight…

"Ah! Ahhh! AHHHHH!"

The court turned around to search for the source of the disruption. A certain big-figured, green-maned man rose from his seat, shouting as his pupils shrank.

"Silence, you oaf!" Ursula snapped, "Your interruptions are disturbing this court, and my patience has worn terribly thin!"

"B-But, but…!" Dozla stammered, "What he just said, it can't be!"

"If you don't sit down and be quiet, I'll silence you myself!" she growled.

"Just a moment," the judge said, staring down at the excited witness, "I hold the highest authority in this courtroom. Mr. Spokony, your remarks are indeed disruptive. I will invite you to explain yourself, but if you have been interrupting my court for trivial matters, I will not be very kind to you."

"R-Right," Dozla said, his eyes darting everywhere, "but listen here: that fella just said his favorite dish was biscotti! That can't be, because I've never made biscotti for anyone in the place 'cept Little Leila!"

Ursula's eyes jumped open and her mouth dropped. Naesala's eyes did the same, but his lips creased into a frown. The judge's brow raised only a little, and, at once, the rest of the gallery began crowding the air of the courtroom with whispers.

"That's right," Robin said, recalling aloud, "Dozla testified that Leila asked him to make her biscotti a few weeks after she started visiting the café regularly, and that he didn't make it for anyone but her. That's two very particular mistakes from our witness…"

Ursula shouted, "Your Honor, please have that man held in contempt! His statement changes nothing about the facts of this case. The witness misremembered his favorite dish? What possible significance could that have to a murder?!"

"That old coot is talking nonsense," Naesala added, "I've definitely eaten biscotti there before. Maybe his addlepated old mind just isn't registering it, but it happened."

"Even if it meant something, the defense cannot prove that the witness never ate biscotti in the café, so may we please move along?" Ursula asked, tapping her foot.

The judge rapped his gavel on his desk. "I am afraid that I concur with the prosecution. Mr. Spokony's remarks offer this court very little in terms of evidence, and so, for disrupting this trial, he will be held in contempt until its conclusion. Bailiff, please escort the witness out of my court."

As the bailiff obeyed, Dozla looked about the room frenziedly, then suddenly glowered with contempt at Naesala, perhaps realizing the same thing Robin had been trying to establish. His scowl sagged into a pathetic sadness as he took one long look at the defense bench before being dragged off.

He's getting it now, too. Thank you, Mr. Spokony. With your help, I'm sure I can make something happen here. I won't waste this opportunity.

"Robin," Fado addressed his protégé, "I think it might be prudent, at this point, to reexamine an aspect of our investigation that we've been ignoring."

"What do you mean, sir?"

"Profiling a criminal requires three things. What are they?"

"Motive, means, and opportunity, sir."

"Good lad. Now, if the thunderstorm and the 'blackout' provided the opportunity, and disguising himself as Forde and sprinkling some poison into the victim's drink was the means for our criminal, what are we left with?"

"Motive. Why did he do it?

"Exactly. We spoke about this with Pelleas, but we never really reached a satisfactory conclusion. Well, we've got our suspect. What are your thoughts now?"

"I… I don't know. As far as anyone knows, Naesala was a total stranger to Leila. She was carrying those documents, but for someone to know about that, they would have needed to be privy to the fact that she was a spy."

"Mm-hm." Fado nodded. "So, you don't think Naesala had any personal motive to kill her?"

"If he did, I can't think of one."

"And what does that tell you?"

"Huh? It tells me nothing."

"Wrong. Think harder. Let your imagination flow a little. Why would a total stranger dress in a waiter's outfit to poison a girl under cover of dark? It's not exactly a crime of passion."

"No, it's pretty elaborate. Careful. Almost… rehearsed. Wait. No—you think…?"

"Poison is always an intriguing weapon of choice," said the older attorney, raising his eyebrows.

"So, the answer is… Naesala didn't have any motive at all—someone else did!"

"Thatta boy."

"Someone else gave Naesala orders to do this! Someone who knew about the documents! But, if that's the case, then… Naesala kept insisting that he wasn't happy to be in court, and I think he was telling the truth. It took a long time to prepare him for the trial, almost like he wasn't expecting to end up here, even though he was the killer. That must mean that somewhere along the way, we happened on a mistake that he made."

"Like I said, 'there's no such thing as the perfect crime.'"

"But what could it be? What wasn't Naesala expecting?"

"Perhaps it's more relevant to ask, 'what was he expecting?'"

"Right. Something he expected to happen, but didn't quite go as planned. Oh, I know! He was planning to knock Forde out in the employee lounge, but he didn't know that Forde was already going to be ill and passing out, which prompted Dozla to check on him. That forced him to replace the body quickly and get rid of his disguise, which caused him to get stuck in the café when the exits were blocked!"

Fado wore a long smile. "I think you may have the right of it, my boy."

"So, the question is, can we find any evidence from that mistake? Anything that points right to Naesala?"

Fado shook his head. "I don't think so. Too much of this trial has relied on a lack of exact knowledge of people and places. You have managed to prove this much, however: only three people were in the back of the café at the time the lights went out: Dozla, Forde, and now Naesala."

"Ah, I get it! So, if I can prove that the murder was committed by someone in the back that wasn't Dozla or Forde, then the only reasonable conclusion is that it was Naesala!"

"Process of elimination is a real dastard when it wants to be."

"But how can I possibly do that?"

"I think now is a good time to roll up your sleeves and dig back through the evidence, lad. You're almost there."

"Fado, do you know?"

"You have to be able to do some things on your own, lad. The chips are down right now, so what will you do? Will you be resolute and scour the court record on your hands and knees until you find something, or will you let it slip from your fingers?"

Gods, no pressure. Still, he's right. I'd have gotten nowhere in this trial without Fado's help. Now it's time to prove that I can do what I need to when it counts! Not to mention, for all he was saying, I think Fado was still trying to give me a hint just then… Get ready, Pelleas, your liberation is at hand!

"Now that we're finished with those unpleasant proceedings, I'd like to suggest we move on to the verdict," said Ursula, eyes shut and arms tightly folded around herself.

"Any objections, Mr. LeBlanc?" the judge offered.

"As a matter of fact, yes," answered the rookie attorney.

Ursula only scoffed.

"Very well," the judge said, massaging his drooping eyes, "what will it be this time, Mr. LeBlanc?"

"I'd like to review a few facts first." There were several groans from the gallery. "My client, Pelleas Apoleus, is accused of poisoning the victim, Leila Viscount, with liquid cyanide, which she drank, presumably after it was introduced to her coffee. We now know, however, that in the time that provided the window of opportunity the prosecution uses to make that allegation, Naesala Scaltro was moving around the back of the café. We also know that at that exact time, Dozla Spokony was still cooking in the kitchen, and Forde Willow had passed out in the employee lounge."

"Is this going somewhere?" asked Ursula, treating it as an imposition.

Robin nodded. "Two key elements led the police and the prosecution to believe my client was guilty of poisoning Ms. Viscount: there was a bottle of cyanide in his front pocket, and there were traces of cyanide on his cuff."

"Two facts which are indisputable evidence, Mr. LeBlanc," said Ursula, "What do you hope to gain by restating them?"

"I had a question back near the beginning of this trial, and it had been plaguing me until this point. Now I finally understand. If you take a look at the traces of cyanide found on Mr. Apoleus's sleeve, you'll notice that there is a strange flat line at the end of the area where the reactive fluid colors the garment. Why would that be?"

Ursula rolled her eyes. "It doesn't matter. Nothing you say will change the fact that cyanide was present on the defendant's sleeve."

"I'm glad you agree," Robin said with a smile, "but there can only be one reason for such a clear and unnatural shape to the trace of cyanide: something else must have also gotten stained with the same traces, shielding the area of the defendant's sleeve below like a shadow blocking out the sun."

"W-What?" Ursula clenched her teeth.

"Think about it: that Pelleas should spill cyanide on his own sleeve, covering his dominant hand, makes no sense, especially with that sharp line, but if someone else's arm had been over his, dropping the poison from above, well, then that mark would not only be totally possible, we could even match up the other garment onto which the poison had been spilled!"

Naesala shifted his posture at the stand.

"Objection!" Ursula shouted, "How do you mean to prove this? I don't suppose you have the garment in question?"

Robin smirked.

"Urgh, enough, damn you! What are you getting at?"

"There's a piece of evidence that's been discussed in this trial quite a bit, but until now, no one has realized its real significance. To do that, we have to think back to what Detective Volke Mordel told us at the beginning of the trial about the cyanide on Pelleas's clothing: if left unattended, it could have bled right through the clothes and absorbed into his skin, killing him as well. Anyone using the cyanide would have known that, and so, if they had spilled cyanide onto themselves, they would have protected against it seeping through their clothes. How? Well, the good detective said it would be as easy as turning the garment inside-out."

"Where are you going with this?" Ursula demanded, "For you to suggest that there is some evidence that I, Ursula Verra, have not thoroughly examined… you will suffer greatly for your arrogance!"

Robin folded his arms. "I guess you weren't as comprehensive as you thought. The garment onto which the cyanide was spilled was none other than Forde Willow's uniform!"

"W-What?!"

"The court was led to believe that Forde threw it off in a heatstroke-induced daze, which is why it was found inside-out, but the truth is more sinister: after taking the uniform so that he could move throughout the café undetected, the killer accidentally spilled cyanide onto its sleeve and Pelleas's. Knowing what would happen if he didn't act quickly, the killer moved quickly back to the lounge and threw the uniform off, and then replaced Forde's unconscious body when he realized someone was coming to look for him!"

"Preposterous!" Ursula shouted, slamming her fist on her desk.

Robin leaned on his own desk and shouted in reply, "Oh, yeah? If it's so preposterous, then let's have the uniform tested for traces of cyanide, just like Pelleas's shirt! If that uniform tests positive for cyanide, then it's proof positive that not only could someone in the back of the café have killed Leila Viscount, they must have. And, what's more, two of the three people who were in the back of the café have strict alibis showing that they couldn't possibly have been moving around at the time: Dozla was still cooking, and it would have been impossible for him to wear Forde's uniform at his size, and Forde himself had fainted due to heatstroke by that time, unless the prosecution wishes to rescind that claim."

"W-What? N-No… That can't be. That would mean… then there could only…"

"Glad you finally see the truth, Ms. Verra." Robin pointed to the witness stand, "The truth is, there could only have been one person who wore the uniform, and who therefore killed Leila Viscount. That person is our witness, Naesala Scaltro!"

The court resounded with startled shouts and chatter. Ursula grit her teeth and began babbling something in a language no one could have understood, but that they wouldn't have wanted to if they could.

The judge pounded his gavel on his desk and demanded order. "These are grave charges indeed. Mr. Scaltro, have you anything to say in your defense?"

Robin looked at the witness. The young attorney had been smiling, feeling his brain and his muscles brim with the energy of his impassioned attack, but now, looking at the culprit he had uncovered, who was only giving him a disconcerted frown, Robin lost his smile.

The blue-haired man in the dark ensemble let out a long sigh. "Are you done?"

"What—"

"Good. Stop talking. You're out of your depth, kid. Acting so high and mighty at your age… you've got a lot to learn, and it looks like I have to be the one to teach you." The culprit sighed again. "My employer's not gonna be happy with this, but sometimes things just don't go as planned. That should be a lesson for you, too, kid."

"Mr. Scaltro," said the judge, "just now, you said 'your employer…' are you admitting that someone hired you to…?"

"Shut up, you buffoon!" Naesala barked, "I'm talking to the lawyer right now. What do you want, kid?" The black-clad man clapped his hands slowly. "Is this what you want? Applause? Recognition? A big ol' thumbs-up from mummy and daddy?"

"You—"

"No, stay quiet and listen, you idiot! What do you think you've done? You think you got me? You're gonna call the bailiff in here to fit me for a pair of cuffs and have me thrown away? Because you argued it real good? Is that how you think the world works? Is that your plan?"

Robin didn't bother trying to say anything this time. He felt paralyzed by the criminal's tone.

"Well, like I said, sometimes think don't go according to plan. But I'm gonna teach you something valuable today, kid: professionals have plans. Experts, on the other hand, have contingencies."

Before anyone could ask what the raving man was suggesting, he reached into the front of his coat and whipped out a pistol. Robin saw the metal gleam under the fluorescent lights as it came forward. In a moment, Robin realized the barrel of the weapon was pointed squarely at him.

"I'm gonna show you exactly how powerless you really are." Naesala stared hard at the attorney, his index finger sliding along the pistol's trigger.

"Bailiff!" the judge shouted.

Naesala shifted his arm to the side and fired a round, plugging the approaching bailiff in the face. In almost the same motion, taking less than a second, he aimed over the young attorney's shoulder again and fired another round. This one struck Pelleas in the face, and he toppled to the ground. Robin's eyes grew wide and he felt his whole body go cold as he watched his client sink to the floor with a bleeding hole in his head.

Naesala began taking a step toward the defense bench.

"Robin," Fado said in a low tone alien even to his protégé, "I want you to run as fast as you can, right now."

Robin wanted desperately to follow that advice, but his feet felt glued to the floor, and he found himself looking helplessly back and forth between his murdered client and his murderer. When the assassin got close, Fado charged around the desk, preparing to shoulder-tackle the assailant, but he, too, was toppled by a well-placed shot that struck him in the shoulder. Naesala reached the defense bench, grabbed Robin by the collar, and dragged him out from behind the bench with him. He pressed the barrel of the gun to Robin's temple, and all Robin could feel was the cold impression it made on his flesh. He saw Pelleas's body one last time as he was being dragged away, and then he seemed to go blind. He might have gone deaf, too, because Naesala seemed to be saying something—more mockery, perhaps—but Robin couldn't hear a word of it. His face was expressionless and transfixed.

All at once, Robin regained his hearing and his sight as he was thrown forward. They were near the lobby's entrance. Robin heard a car engine humming behind him. As he fell and hit his head on the marble floor, he heard the engine rumble as the car sped off, and the sounds of police sirens screeching after it. Then he lost consciousness.

[April 17th, 9:18 pm, Hope's Heart Hospital]

Robin woke up, his vision fading in from white. He looked around and let his eyes adjust to the dark of the room. A figure on his left side seemed to shift, realizing his eyes were moving.

"I think he's awake," the figure said. Robin eventually recognized it as Anna's voice.

"You all right, son?" said another, approaching the bed the attorney was laying on. This one he knew straight away to be Fado. "Can you hear me?"

"I hear you," he said, his voice dry and cracking in his throat.

"Thank gods. That was… quite the scene, kid. You… shouldn't have had to see something like that in your first trial. In any trial. What you saw is the end-product of a legal system in need of change. I'm just glad it didn't end your career before it started."

"Pelleas," Robin murmured, his memory returning, "what happened…?"

Fado frowned at the floor. "The doctors tried their best, but… kid was dead before he hit the ground."

"I was… useless," Robin said, "I could have done something… you told me to run, but I didn't, and—"

"That's enough, lad. Don't go blaming yourself for what some ruthless murderer did. You did absolutely everything you were supposed to do, and there's nothing more you were expected to do, you understand?"

"He shot you too, Fado. I'm really useless… I wasn't even hurt, and here you are, up before me. I can't…"

"Robin." His tone was low and firm. "I know you're in a delicate place right now, so I don't want to yell, but I'm telling you right now that none of this reflects on you. Naesala Scaltro is a scoundrel and a murderer, and you are absolutely not to blame for his behavior."

Robin blinked. He looked up at the ceiling. Slowly, he felt the room getting colder. The air was still as no one spoke.

"Fado," said the young attorney. His mentor raised his eyebrows, inviting him to go on. "I… I don't think I'm ready to handle litigating in court. Not yet."

Fado's expression shifted back to grave. "I'm sorry you feel that way, but I understand. I respect your wishes, Robin. We'll wait a few months to give you a new trial, or until you feel ready, all right?"

"Thank you."

"Sure. Now, get some rest, eh, son? You need to get your strength back."

"Okay." He turned his head on the pillow. It wasn't comfortable.

"I'll call you first thing tomorrow morning, all right?"

"Yes, sir."

He heard Fado trying to whisper. His mentor didn't realize that he was still audible at that volume. "All right, I have to get back, or the missus will kill me. They didn't report any significant injuries, just some minor trauma from hitting the floor. Any damage, they said, is probably going to be more psychological."

"Poor kid," he heard Anna say, her voice also not quite low enough, "Damn. His first real day on the job. What the hell… I can't even imagine."

"It's horrible. But I think he'll make it through. I helped him once already. He has a lot of potential. More than you might think."

"All I'm thinking is what an ass I've been to the kid."

"Don't you go beating yourself up, too. You've always been a bit suspicious of new hires, and not without good reason, but this is a good chance to remember why cutting people slack is important, too."

"I feel terrible."

"We all do. Him most especially, I think."

"You said you were gonna call in the morning?"

"Definitely. Thinking plans through?"

"Yeah. Don't let me keep you."

"All right. Good night, Anna."

"G'night, sir."

The door to the hospital room closed. A machine near Robin's head buzzed in a low tone. The vent in the corner of the room near the window began spewing cold air into the already frigid room. Robin's eyes wouldn't close.

"Hey, uh… You still awake?"

Robin looked up at Anna. "Uh-huh," he grunted.

"Listen… I know I've been a little standoffish. Fado's had partners try to steal from the company before, or ruin his reputation by sabotaging him. That's a consequence of being a world-renowned defense attorney, and that's why I have to be careful."

Robin didn't say anything.

"But I was too hard on you, and I was wrong. So… I'm sorry. You're a full member of our team from now on, and I'll treat you like I'd treat any of Fado's associates."

"It's good that you're so protective of him. I wish I could have been likewise."

"Hey, listen—"

"Fado's more than my mentor. He saved me from… a bad spot in my life. I became an attorney because of him."

"He does have that effect on people."

"Is that why you work for him?"

"Kinda. His family and mine worked close together way back when. I've known him since I was pretty young."

Robin didn't say anything. His eyes felt heavy.

"Do… do you want me to stay?"

"Huh?"

"Would you feel more comfortable if I stayed here with you overnight?"

Robin thought about it. He pictured the cold, dark room being empty save for him, lying in the uncomfortable bed. "Yes."

"Okay." She stretched out and reclined in the chair she was sitting in. She let out a quick yawn and said, "I'll stay right here, then."

Robin rolled over on the bed, yanking a blanket over his shoulder.

[*]

[The present… October 28th, 7:02 pm, LeBlanc & Co. Law Offices]

"…And that's about all there is to tell," Robin finished, "I ended up going back to work for Fado, of course, but it was never really the same after that. For a while after that happened, I would have moments where I felt overwhelmed, and then it would snowball until I had that same feeling, like I was being held at gunpoint all over again, and the stress would make me faint. That's what happened in your trial."

"Gods," Morgan said, staring blankly at her employer's desk, "I'm so sorry, Boss. That's horrible."

"It happened. It's over now."

"But you can't let that be the end of it! You can't just bottle it up and act like nothing's wrong!"

"Morgan, I'm fine. I had some trouble before, but it's under control now. I'll get by, like I always have."

Morgan pouted, and then set about thinking. "I can't believe I thought you wouldn't understand my situation. First the whole convicted murderer thing, now this. You've… had a kinda rough life, huh, Boss?"

"Not that much rougher than others," he answered, smiling.

Morgan wasn't. She frowned. "If you say so, Boss."

"Anyway," Robin went on, rising from his desk and shaking out his legs, "it's getting late. We should have closed the office down an hour ago."

The pair walked out of Robin's office and into the main room, only to see Anna scurrying over to her desk to grab her things.

"Anna," Robin called out to her, "You're still here?"

"Oh, yeah!" she chirped back, "Musta lost track of time, ha ha! I'll just grab my stuff, and…"

"…Anna, were you listening in?"

"…No."

"Anna."

"Maybe just a little. And by 'a little,' I mean 'all of it.'"

Robin sighed. "I suppose it's nothing you didn't already know."

"Actually, there was a lot about that case Fado never told me. He basically put a moratorium on mentioning it as soon as you came back to work."

"Can't say I'm not glad."

"Robin… do you feel okay? It wasn't too upsetting to go back through that, was it?"

"No, I'm all right. Actually, it was kind of cathartic. I've been hiding from it for so long, I'm glad to have read through it again, having a little critical distance."

"Well, good. As long as you're not freaking out."

He waited in silence a few seconds. "You can head out, if you like. I think Morgan and I are just going to order pizza and hoagies tonight."

She thought and gave him a little smile. "Which place?"

"Abello's. The one with the 'Panther Po' Boy.'"

Anna giggled. "I like that one. Why don't you get me something, too? We'll make it a little office party."

"Are you sure? I don't wanna keep you away from home."

"This place basically is my home by now. Besides, I'm never really doing anything by myself…"

"What's that?"

"N-Nothing! I… uh, I said I'll go grab the menu from the shelf."

"All right, go on. Morgan, you go with Anna and figure out what you want, okay?"

"You got it, Boss! Whatever it is, I want it loaded with banana peppers!"

The smaller redhead darted after the taller one into the corner of the main room that held the office phone. Robin walked over to the trash can and, looking to each side, reached down into it to pull out the crumpled file. In bold black ink that had been smudged over time, the file read "NAESALA SCALTRO." Robin walked into his office with it, threw it on the desk, and walked back out. A prison name and designation number was listed at the bottom of the page.

So I finished reliving my past with Morgan. She's a good listener, so I'm sure she soaked it all in. I wasn't lying when I spoke to Anna, either—I really did feel relieved after reading through the whole case again, as strange as that may seem. To see it in such abstraction, it made it feel real again in a safe way. For a while, I was almost fighting myself to believe it had been some kind of nightmare I had made up, but now I can face it again. It was good that I got over it when I did, because things were falling into place. I started to look into Naesala Scaltro's records again, thinking I might find something else to help me get over the past. Little did I know, what I was about to find was going to give me something much bigger to explore…

[Turnabout Collapse ~ End]