Well that took a lot longer then I thought it would, but look! It's done! Now I can continue updating the original story at the breakneck pace you all know and tolerate. I am determined to actually finish Turnabout Hero once and for all, so expect an update on that soon. Soonish. Sooner than you got this update.

Enjoy.

March 17, 9:50 AM. Defendant Lobby No. 3.

I had realized Matthew only knew where the copies of the Jones file were, and that is what Yao had burned, a copy. The real file had to exist somewhere, but all my contacts were just as baffled as I was as to where such a thing could exist, if it existed at all. By the next morning I was no further in my investigations then I had been when I first started.

The next step was clearly the first; I needed to talk to Alfred again.

"Good morning Mr. Edgeworth!" Maya called out to me as I entered the defendant's lobby. I paid her no mind however, as all my focus was currently on Alfred Jones.

"Hello Edgey!" he greeted, smile still plastered on his face.

"Can you stop glaring at my client like that?" I heard Wright say, "He's nervous enough as it is."

"No, I'm good!"

"You," I finally said, "Why can't I find a file on you?"

"I dunno," he smiled, as if this was all a game to him, and it most likely was, "I guess you're just not looking hard enough."

"I've checked with all my contacts in all three branches for every position available including the one's you clearly weren't like Senator, Justice, and President, and I could not find a file in any database for Alfred F. Jones. Why?"

"Clearly you just weren't-"

"I was looking hard enough!" I hissed, "Why don't you exist, Mr. Jones?"

"Of course I exist, don't be ridiculous!" he smirked that infuriating all knowing smirk, "I can't be standing in front of you right now if I wasn't, and everyone in Washington has a file. How far back did you look?"

"All the way to 2000. Seeing as you're only 19, even that's pushing it quite a bit."

"Only to 2000? I'm starting to wonder about your dedication to this task Edgey," his booming laugh echoed in my ears.

(Can't…attack…people…who can help you…no matter how satisfying as it may be. I need to get information out of him instead.) "Don't call me Edgey! And what exactly do you mean by that?"

"No, you're the one who decided to investigate me; you should figure that out for yourself. If I just told you that wouldn't be very fun now would it?"

(Fun? What part of this is fun for you?) I rolled my eyes, "You should get going," I said after noticing the bailiff signaling everyone into the courtroom, "the trial's about to start soon. But I will see you," I jabbed a finger into Alfred's chest, to make my point perfectly clear, "afterward to talk about this some more, so don't try and run."

"Wasn't planning on it," he winked, and it was equal parts reassuring and infuriating, before entering the courtroom.

I glared after him until I heard Maya ask, "Mr. Edgeworth, what was that all about?"

"Something about Mr. Jones doesn't sit very well with me." I stated, "I can't explain it so I've been looking into him. I went to talk to him about it yesterday, and he knew exactly what I was talking about, but he refused to tell me anything more except that my hunch was correct and that I should find out for myself."

"What hunch is that?" Wright asked.

"Mr. Jones is, different. Special in some way I suppose is more accurate, almost like there's a government conspiracy surrounding him, and he confirmed that there was."

"What?!"

"More accurately, he said that many people have tried, and failed, to find out his 'Secret.' He wouldn't elaborate any more on it than that, but he welcomed me to try."

"That's sorta like what Lovino was saying yesterday," Maya said, "That Alfred was powerful enough to cover everything up…"

"He what?! Who told you that?" (How many people are in on this?)

"Lovino Vargas. He's Alfred's friend from Italy. He's really nice."

(Can I trust him? I wonder…would he side with Ivan and Yao and try to stop me? Would he be like Yong Soo and try to help? Or like Francis and just remain indifferent? Either way, I'm running out of options.) "What exactly did he say?"

"Um, something about Alfred being higher in rank than a Congressman."

(Alfred told me much of the same, although it's a bit better than his vague 'pretty damn high.')

"What's wrong Edgeworth?" Wright's voice snapped me out of my train of thought.

"Nothing. This just complicates things I suppose. At any rate, my investigation is completely independent to yours, so pay it no mind. Your trial is starting soon isn't it?"

(And this is one you really do need to win, Wright.)

March 17, 1:20 PM. Detention Center.

After the unexpected end to the day's trial, I wasted little time in getting to the Detention Center to talk to Alfred.

"Hi Edgey!" he greeted.

"Don't 'Hi Edgey' me! Why did you send me on this impossible mission?"

"It's not impossible, and didn't you set yourself on it?"

"Quiet you. Why can't I find your file anywhere?"

"Well," he leaned back in his chair and looked at the ceiling, "the thing is, the fact that I have a file is sorta a mistake, so the actual file is probably one of the most guarded documents in DC," he sat up and looked right at me, "Have you tried finding the copies?"

"Your brother showed me where they were yesterday, but they were gone by the time I got there."

"Gone?" this, at least, he looked troubled by, "What do you mean gone?"

"I mean, someone got to them before me." (And burned them in his wok.)

"Oh," with that sound, he seemed to understand everything I left unsaid, "That's problematic, but I did tell you people would try to stop you."

(You did, but you failed mention that was because they were in on this…is conspiracy even the right term at this point?) "That doesn't help me much now, does it?"

"I guess not," he chuckled, "but why are you here? Do you need another hint?"

"I most certainly do not. I am merely here to find out why I can't find your file."

"And I just told you, because it's hard to find."

"Today before the trial, you insinuated that I hadn't looked back far enough in time. Why?"

"Because you hadn't." My glare seemed to have no effect on him, and it was quite frustrating, to say the least.

"You're 19. Even going back to 2000 is even pushing it."

"Well, some people tell me I'm a lot older than I look."

(You look like you're 19. So, is he saying that…?)

"Mr. Jones, how old are you really?"

The grin on his face seemed to suggest that I was on the right track. "How old do I look, Edgeworth?"

"You look like you're 19."

"Then I guess I'm 19."

(Not helping.) "When were you born?"

"July 4th."

"What year?"

He smirked in response, "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"So you are lying about your age?"

"Kinda. Well, someone certainly is."

"Why lie about your age?"

"I'm young and I work for the government," he shrugged, "do I really need another reason?"

(I suppose not.) "Not that I need a hint, because I don't, but how far back would you suggest I look?"

"Back. My advice, Edgey, is to just keep looking backwards through time until you find it."

(Definitely not helping.) "If that's all, then I will be taking my leave."

"Wait!" I paused and faced him, "Just so you know, to see the actual file you're going to need a bit more clearance than you have right now."

"Well, Yong Soo's been helping me, and we've been getting along fine on his clearance." (Although come to think of it, I haven't seen him all day.)

"Really?" he smiled, "It's great that you're making friends-"

"He's not a friend, just an acquaintance."

"But, I don't remember seeing him at the trial. Is he still helping you?"

(He seemed awfully depressed yesterday…and he is rather fond of Yao, who has made it clear he won't let me at this file. But, he also did say he'd help me. I suppose it's just a matter of whether or not I trust his word.)

"Yes, he's still helping me."

"Awesome," Alfred gave me a thumbs up, "he should have the clearance you need, but just in case he doesn't, don't be afraid to give me a call."

(Give you a call?) "You're in jail right now. How am I supposed to call you?"

"Just call the detention center. They'll know where to find me."

(I should hope so since you're being detained here.) "Very well."

He waved his goodbyes as I left, mulling over everything he did – and didn't – tell me.

I didn't notice Wright and Maya standing there until I almost bumped into them.

"Hello Mr. Edgeworth!" Maya said in greeting, "How's your investigation going?"

"He's taunting me, I just know it," I look back to the building where Alfred is probably still sitting, basking in the knowledge of knowing something I don't, "He doesn't think I'll figure it out," everything he had said had made that abundantly clear, "but Miles Edgeworth doesn't give up so easily Mr. Jones! I'll show him how real prosecutors investigate! We'll see whose laughing then won't we!"

I hadn't realized how caught up in my tirade I had gotten until Wright asked, "Edgeworth? Are you okay?"

"Ah, yes. Sorry about that. My investigation is going fine, how about yours?"

"Just peachy. What did you think of the trial this morning?"

(The trial…right, Alfred's trial…the one that Gilbert interrupted…I wonder, how many of them are actually involved with this case? How many of them has Wright had to associate with, or even will have to associate with?) "You have quite the cast of characters to deal with. I'm glad I'm not prosecuting this one." (Better to let Franziska deal with Gilbert. He always liked her better. Speaking of Gilbert,) "Be careful Wright. Gilbert Wiellschmidt, despite all evidence to the contrary, is a brilliant tactician. I'm not sure what, but he's definitely planning something."

"You know Gilbert too, Mr. Edgeworth?" Maya asked.

"Yes, I did live with the von Karmas in Germany for quite some time. Gilbert stopped by every now and then. He looks and acts pretty much the same as he did back then." (Which is a shame for society as a whole.)

"Well, he's only twenty-five and leeching off his brother," Wright explained, "He's still just having fun with life, I suppose."

"Twenty-five? That's impossible; he was twenty-five when I first met him."

"So, Gilbert lied about his age?" (Just like Alfred did, apparently.)

"Why would he do that?" (This cannot possibly be a coincidence…)

(The Gilbert of my childhood certainly looked twenty-five, and he definitely looked twenty-five today in court. What if he hasn't aged in all those years? Alfred told me he lies about his age, that he's not actually nineteen…what if he doesn't age either? That of course brings the question, why haven't they aged? And does that apply to everyone?)

"Edgeworth?" I heard Wright say, "Hello?"

"Yes I agree," was the first thing I could think of to say after coming out of my previous train of thought.

"It wasn't a yes or no question," he said, but by that time my focus was elsewhere.

"I need to go check on something," I said as I made my exit, "Excuse me."

(Too many questions, and it's about time I had some answers. If Alfred won't talk, then I'll just have to find someone who will.)

March 17, 1:45 PM. Westin Arlington Gateway Hotel Lobby.

The bellboy that stopped me yesterday had abandoned his post, and I had no trouble getting into the lobby today. A quick look around showed that the only people there were the man at the front desk, who was too busy reading some magazine to pay me much mind, and a man playing the piano.

"Excuse me," I asked the man at the piano, "I'm looking for Gilbert Wiellschmidt. Do you know where he is?"

He ignored me and continued playing. As I was about to get irritated with him for ignoring me, he finished the song and turned to face me.

"Never interrupt Mozart," was the first thing out of his mouth, followed quickly by, "How may I be of assistance?"

"Sorry about that, but do you know where Gilbert Wiellschmidt is?"

"Why?"

"I need to speak with him. Now."

He sized me up for a moment before turning back to the piano and smashing the keys on the lower end.

"What the hell, Specs?!" Gilbert shouted as he popped out of the piano, "I could have gone deaf!"

"Someone is here to see you, and before you yell at me, no, it isn't Franziska. Kindly remove yourself from the piano."

"Who-?" then Gilbert caught sight of me, "Edgey!"

"It's Miles! Miles Edgeworth! Why does everyone insist on using that ridiculous diminutive?"

"It suits you, that's why," he jumped out of the piano and swung an arm around my shoulders, "Specs, we're going to go talk over there," he pointed at a group of chairs on the other side of the lobby, "warn me if Franziska comes back."

"If I can." He turned back to the piano and started up a new song as Gilbert dragged away.

"I haven't seen you in forever, Edgey, oh sorry," Gilbert smirked as he caught my glare, "Miles. You really shot up there didn't you? You used to be so tiny, like an awesome bird."

(Good, we can get right to the point.) "And you haven't aged at all, I've noticed."

His smirk grew as he sat down and motioned for me to do the same, "Nothing gets by you does it? I assume you're here to ask me about the secret of my youth?"

"Among other things," I answered as I sat across from him. Gilbert raised an eyebrow before he started chuckling.

"You think Alfred's innocent," he tilted his head back and full out laughed, much to my frustration, "Never thought I'd see the day you actually thought someone was innocent."

"Alfred has a certain something about him, or so I've been told."

"Yeah, that's true," he sighed, "He didn't do it you know."

"Pardon?"

"Alfred. He didn't kill that guy."

(Because of course you would know for sure, unless…)

"Don't give me that look. I didn't kill him either," he sighed and leaned his elbows on his knees, "I don't know who did, but I know it wasn't Alfred."

"How can you be so sure? All of the evidence-"

"Evidence schmevidence," Gilbert waved my concerns off as he leaned back in his chair, "I'm going by feelings here."

"Feelings don't stand up in a court of law."

"You lawyer types and your 'evidence.' Sometimes you just gotta go with your gut," he smirked and shouted across the room, "Specs, do you think Alfred did it?"

"You know very well I do not," came the reply.

"See? Even Roderich agrees with me for once. No way is that kid guilty."

"It's nice that you think that, but-"

"I get it," Gilbert chuckled again as he leaned forward, "You've never been one to just sit there and take the world for what it is. You need to know why you think Al's innocent." He took my silence for a yes and kept talking, "I'd be more than happy to tell you, you know."

I leaned forward as well, "In exchange for, what, exactly?"

Just as he was about to tell me, a whip came out of nowhere and wrapped around his wrist.

"Gilbert Wiellschmidt!" Franziska shouted, "How dare you try to run from me!"

"Gilbert," Roderich shouted belatedly from his piano, "Franziska's here."

"Franziska, Gilbert and I were having a conversation," I said, "Can you wait until we're through to have your way with him?"

"Miles Edgeworth," she smirked, "I didn't think you'd still be in town after you ran from this case with your tail between your legs."

"I merely thought you would like the opportunity to prosecute. If this case is to challenging for you, I can always find someone else."

Her glare was all the answer I needed, not that I'd expected much different. "I'd stay and talk," she tugged Gilbert out of his chair, "but I have a memory to recover. Good day, Miles Edgeworth."

"Ow, wait, Franziska, that's supposed to be attached!" I heard Gilbert shout as he was dragged out of sight.

(Well, that's a shame. Where should I go from here?)

"Mr. Edgeworth!" I voice I knew too well shouted.

"M-Mr. Edgeworth?" Gumshoe asked Roderich, who stopped playing to glare at him.

"Do I look anything like him?"

"Well, except for the mole and the glasses, and the different hair color…"

"Detective," I called out, "I'm over here."

"Oh Mr. Edgeworth!" he ran over to the other side of the lobby where I was seated, "So, remember yesterday when I said I'd look into Ivan and Yao's criminal records?"

"I recall you saying something like that. Am I correct in assuming you found nothing?"

"Yes. I mean no. I mean, not quite."

(Spit it out man!) "It has to be one or the other, Detective. Either you found something or you didn't. Which is it?"

"Well, nothing came up when I went through the department records," he scratched his head, "But one guy let me go through some of the CIA records, and-"

(Wh-what?!) "Y-you had accesses to CIA records?!"

"Technically it was limited access, pal. Some French guy, Bonnefoy I think his name was, down at the precinct let me in somehow."

"Francis Bonnefoy?"

"Yeah, I think that was him. You know him?"

"We've met." (He said he wasn't going to get involved, whether to help or hurt me…what's changed? Is he planning something?)

"Anyway, he let me in, and I was going through some of the files from the 50s and-"

"The fifties? Why so far back?"

"Well, I only had limited access, and those were the limit I had access to, Mr. Edgeworth."

(I don't see how anything that far back could be much help, but Alfred and Gilbert hinted at going back father than I had originally thought.) "What did you find then?"

"I found a file on Ivan," he pulled said filed out of his jacket and placed it on the table for me to look at. I picked it up and started flipping through it, coming across a lot of black and white pictures of Mr. Braginski, some of him with old Soviet Premiers, some of him doing what Cold War era films would have me believe to be espionage work. On the back of some of the pictures were vague notes about his alleged movements at the time.

(What is this?)

"Did you find my brother's file?" a voice over my shoulder asked. Startled, both the Detective and I turned to see Yong Soo looking down at the photos.

"There was a spot for a Wang Yao file, pal," Gumshoe explained, "but it was empty."

"Ah, I meant my real brother. I'm pretty sure Alfred would have a file like this for him somewhere." His eyes grew distant, and I could tell this was something he didn't want to talk about. His family matters were none of my concern, not that I cared.

"Do you know what the purpose of this file is, Yong Soo?"

"Ivan is a, what do you call it, person of interest? Alfred likes to keep tabs on him."

"This file is from the fifties."

"That's when he became interesting."

(What Alfred said, what Gilbert implied, this file, it all indicates I should look farther back for Alfred's file, no matter how ridiculous that seems.)

"Yong Soo, do you know of any place where we could find Mr. Jones's file? Not a copy but the original?"

He sat down on my armrest, much to my discomfort, and thought about it. "Where did you find this one? It might be there."

"I found it in the CIA records, pal. I, uh, I didn't think to look for Jones's while I was there."

(Of course you wouldn't…)

Yong Soo shook his head, "I doubt they'd have it."

"So, I guess we're back to square one?" Gumshoe asked.

(Not if I can help it. Think…there must be something I'm missing…)

Suddenly Yong Soo's cell phone started to ring.

"Hello?"

"Yong Soo! Bonjour!" I heard Francis say.

"It's the afternoon, but okay. What do you need?"

"Can't I ever just call someone up to say hello anymore?"

"Well, you usually don't talk to me unless you need something, so I just assumed."

"Fair point," a shout of "If you're going to follow us around, you might as well bloody help frog!" could be heard in the background, "What are your plans for the rest of the day, my friend?"

"I'm just investigating with Edgey and Gumshoe. Why?"

Francis clicked his tongue, "I don't think Yao will like that much."

Yong Soo's face turned pink, "Was there a reason you called?"

"Yes, there is. I was just thinking how today is the perfect day to go to the library, wouldn't you agree?"

(Library? Assuming he knows that Yong Soo has been helping me, and I'm sure he does, this may very well be a hint for us. Why does he want us to go to the library?)

"Uh, not really, it's bright and warm and sunny. A library is one of the last places I'd want to be today."

"Really? Because if I were you, I'd go to the library today."

(I honestly doubt a mere library could hold the answers, unless he means-)

A loud crash was heard on Francis's end, followed shortly by, "Damnit Francis, if you have to be here, the least you can do is catch me when I fall!"

"I assumed that was what Kiku was here for," he responded.

"Kiku is 162 centimeters tall! How is he supposed to catch me when I fall off of Ivan?"

"Have you tried maybe not falling?"

Several British curses and a scuffle were heard after that, followed shortly by the line disconnecting.

"Well that was weird," Yong Soo concluded as he put his phone back in his pocket.

"You're telling me," Gumshoe agreed, "What's with his obsession with libraries pal?"

"You mean you didn't get it?" I smirked.

"Get what?" they both asked.

"I think it's time we paid a visit to the library."

March 17, 2:20 PM. Library of Congress, Thomas Jefferson Building.

We managed to gain access to the basement room where several classified files were said to have been stored. Unfortunately, and unsurprisingly to me at least, Yao had too.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, none of us had enough clearance to actually get at anything being stored in that room.

"This is ridiculous, aru," Yao complained, "Do you know who I am? Who I work for?"

"What about me?" Yong Soo insisted, "I'm pretty important too!"

"I've got my orders to follow," the old man who brought us down here said, "and you can't get anything in this room, got it?"

"Mr. Edgeworth…" Gumshoe glanced between me and the files beyond the gate.

"Calm down, Detective. If our adventures yesterday are any indication, I doubt we have clearance when these two don't."

"Still, it's kinda strange that they'd let us down here, but not touch anything. I mean, what's the point of seeing a bunch of stuff if we can't even touch it?"

"Misters Wang and Im can look at all they want," the guard stated, "they just can't take anything out. Can't even bring it out of the row they find it in."

"If we can't take things away from here, then just who can?" Yao asked.

"I'm not authorized to release that information to you, Mr. Wang."

(Of course, you've basically told us that there is someone who can take things out of here…

"…just in case he doesn't, don't be afraid to give me a call."

Of course, he knew it would come to this didn't he?)

With no other options available, I pulled out my own cell phone and called the Detention Center. Just as he predicted, they had no problems patching me through to Alfred.

"Hey, Edgey! What's up?"

"You knew that we wouldn't be able to get at your file without higher clearance, didn't you?"

"Maybe. Where are you?"

"We're in the Library of Congress basement. The man here won't let us get anywhere near any of the files down here."

"Good job! You've made it farther than anyone has in a long time!" I could practically hear his smile through the phone, "You should be proud!"

"Are you going to help me finish this or aren't you?" I snapped.

"Sure I will! That's what heroes do. Hand the phone to the guard."

I sighed, but did as instructed, "It's for you."

The man gave me a weird look, but cautiously took the phone.

"Who is this?" he snapped into it. His demeanor changed completely once he discovered who it was, "Mr. Jones! I heard you were in jail!… No, everything's good, how are you?… Really? Is that so?… Sorry, I can't let Mr. Edgeworth into the collection without you physically present, no matter how much you insist he's 'one of the good guys'…Mr. Im Yong Soo? Well, I suppose I could let just him take it, what about Mr. Wang Yao?…Alright, if you insist Mr. Jones…I'll tell her you said hello, of course. Good day." He hung the phone up and handed it back to me.

"You," he pointed at Yong Soo, may take Mr. Jones's file to him. Only Mr. Jones's file. Don't even think about taking anything else."

"Of course!" he grinned before running off to explore the labyrinth of shelves filled with papers.

"What about-"

"Only Mr. Im is allowed to take only Mr. Jones's file."

Yong Soo came back from his hunt moments later, file in hand. The guard snatched it from him and flipped through it, making sure that he was indeed taking only the file he was allowed to off the premises. When it passed his inspection he handed the file back, and the four of us left the building.

"Good job getting the file, Yong Soo," Yao said once we were outside, "You can hand that over now, aru."

"Hold it!" Gumshoe shouted, "Yong Soo's on our side, so that's our file, pal!"

"I'm sure you've had fun playing detective," he continued, "but this is serious, aru. I know you claim to be older than dirt, but when it comes down to it, I've been around here before and trust me, it's better for everyone if they don't know."

Yong Soo's face scrunched up as his eyes darted between Yao, the file, and me.

"Mr. Edgeworth!" Gumshoe shouted, "Aren't you going to respond to that?"

(It's hard when I'm not all that sure what they are talking about.) "I may not know exactly what this secret of yours is yet, but I have gotten a feel for the nature of it over these past few days. Mr. Jones trusted us enough to find it out for ourselves, and he trusted Yong Soo enough to bring it to him, however the choice of what to do is ultimately in Yong Soo's hands." (And I have to trust that he'll make the right decision, whatever that may be.)

"Edgeworth is one of the good ones," Yong Soo pleaded, "Alfred and Gilbert trust him, and he won't-"

"You're trusting Alfred and Gilbert's judgment, aru?" Yao rolled his eyes, "Gilbert, whose sole existence now it to cause as much trouble as possible, and Alfred, who is currently being imprisoned by his own people! Have you ever heard that happening before?"

"It's just a mistake," he explained, "If they knew who he was-"

"The only difference is they would probably keep it quiet instead of flaunting it across the media, aru. Alfred's trust in people is what got him into this mess in the first place. Don't make the same mistake he's making."

"Mr. Edgeworth," the Detective whispered, "I don't know why, but I felt pretty insulted by that last statement."

"I did as well."

"Should we say something?"

"I doubt that will help much. Its best if we just let Yao say his piece and hope Yong Soo is still on our side at the end. Getting in the middle of this when we only have a vague notion of what's going on would not work to our advantage."

"Yeah, I was just thinking that," he scratched his head and leaned back as Yong Soo spoke again.

"I, I'm sorry," he looked away from Yao, who raised an eyebrow, "I'm going to have to trust Alfred's judgment on this."

Yao looked shocked, but it quickly morphed into resignation, "If that's what you think, aru, then I won't be able to stop you, will I?" He turned and left, but not before adding, "You'll have to accept the consequences, but I hope you know what you're doing, aru."

Once he was gone, a silence fell over the area.

"So," Gumshoe said, "what was that all about pal?"

"It doesn't matter. Here," he handed me the file, and I wasted no time in opening it, finally reading the contents.

Name: Alfred Franklin Jones
Age: 19
Full Name: United States of America

"What does this mean?" I pointed out that last line.

"Yeah, I noticed that typo when I had the copy yesterday," Gumshoe admitted, "I thought they could at least get it right on the real thing but I guess not."

"Typo?" (This document seems too important to have that kind of typo.)

"Yeah, I mean, it's not like Jones is actually America! That's just not possible. It must mean 'country of origin' or something, 'cause they already have his name on the file and everything."

"But what about his approximate age being 195? That makes even less sense then the name, considering they already have his age down as 19."

"Someone must have accidently hit the 5 key? This was typed up on a typewriter from the looks of it, Mr. Edgeworth, and human error can happen a lot. I should know; it happens to me all the time."

(That would make sense, but it just doesn't…feel right. Again with these feelings! I need some hard evidence!)

Gumshoe's phone rang, interrupting my musings.

"Hello? Yes, what? But…Okay, I'll be right there, pal." He hung up and looked sadly at me. "Sorry Mr. Edgeworth, but I've got to get back to the station."

"That's quite alright. This is an off-the books investigation as is, and I'd hate to keep you from your work. You've done enough already as is."

Detective Gumshoe departed, leaving me all alone with Yong Soo and the mysterious file.

"Those aren't typos are they?"

"Not at all."

"Explain."

He sighed, "I think you should go see Alfred about that."

March 17, 2:45 PM. Detention Center.

"Explain," I demanded as I held the relevant part of the file up to the glass.

"Oh hey, you did find it!" he grinned like an idiot, "I knew you could do it."

"That doesn't sound like an explanation to me."

"You have all the answers you need right there, what do you want from me?"

"According to this, you're actually the United States of America and you're really 195 years old-"

"Over 243 now, actually. That hasn't been updated in a while."

"That is impossible, Mr. Jones!"

"How so?"

"The United States of America is a country. You are a person! You can't be a country."

"Of course not, that's just silly," he chuckled, "Didn't you read the file? I'm a nation."

I fixed him with my meanest glare.

"Don't give me that look."

"You can't be America. It's impossible."

"Where's your evidence?"

"Pardon?"

"You're a prosecutor, aren't you? So, show me the evidence that says I'm not America."

"I don't need evidence for that. What you're suggesting is not within the realm of possibility. If anything, you should provide evidence to prove you are America."

He tapped the glass where I was still holding the file, "You've got an official document signed off by a former President in your hands. What other evidence do I need?"

"This," I shook the file, "might not be what it says it is."

"You know, admitting it won't drastically change your viewpoint of the world. Everything's going to go about business as usually; the sun will shine, the grass will grow, I'll still be in jail, and you'll still bring criminals to justice. The only difference will be that you'll know who exactly you're defending."

"…What?"

"Well criminal cases are called 'Defendant vs. the United States,' so, since the defense attorney is defending the defendant that means the prosecutor is always defending me."

(His logic does make sense…assuming this conversation made any sense at all to begin with.)

"Actually," he looked away and scratched his head, "I've been meaning to thank you for that."

"For what?"

"For protecting me from criminals like you do. I mean, you're easily the best prosecutor in the country. I really wanted to properly introduce myself to you before, but, well, you're always so busy, and this conversation is always a little weird, no matter how many times I have it."

(I'm definitely not blushing at that. I don't care what America thinks of me…not that he is America, of course.) "You still have yet to prove to me you are who you say you are."

"Search your feelings; you know it to be true."

(…No. We're not doing this.)

"You know if you keep making that face it'll get stuck like that. But awesome movie quotes aside, can you honestly look me in the eyes and tell me I'm who I say I am?"

(Yes, actually, it would be the easiest thing in the world.) So I did as he instructed. I looked him straight in the eye, words on the tip of my tongue…

And something just clicked. Everything he had told me had been the truth, and although I couldn't say how precisely I knew that, I didn't doubt him in the slightest.

Alfred was America, and America was innocent, at least of this crime. It was indeed that simple.

"…Oh."

"Yeah. Are you going to be okay?" America asked.

"Yes, I'll be alright. I'm just going to go for a bit of a walk."

Alfred grinned. "Okay. If you see Korea, tell him I said hi!"

March 17, 3:25 PM. Lincoln Park.

After wandering around in a daze for a bit, I eventually sat down on a park bench. I vaguely registered someone else sit down beside me.

"America says hi," was the first thing that came out of my mouth.

"How's he doing?" Yong Soo asked.

"Not bad, considering," I turned to stare at him, "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I told you before, you're Alfred's, not mine, and he likes to play his games and do his big reveal."

"Is that so?"

"Yeah, he likes doing things big and flashy."

"How very America of him," I looked up as I pondered that thought. Of course it would be very American of him, after all he is America, the very same America I've apparently been protecting this whole time, whether that was my intention or not. Either way, he at least seemed satisfied with my work, and how strange was that?

(Is it all that strange? I became a prosecutor to defend the people, I just never expected the people as a concept to take the form of one man. Just because the faceless masses have one face, is anything any different than before?)

"Edgeworth?" a familiar voice snapped me out of my thoughts. I looked over to see Wright was in the park as well, standing right in front of me, "What are you doing here?"

"Hm? Oh Wright, you're here."

An elbow to my ribs reminded me I was being rude, proving I was still a little out of it. "Right, Wright this is Yong Soo. Yong Soo, this is Wright. He's been following me around for the past two days," I felt the need to explain.

"Nice to meet you," Yong Soo greeted.

"Likewise. So, what's up Edgeworth? You seem, different."

"Do I?" (I must be very out of it.) "I was just thinking."

"About what?" His eyes lit up in understanding, "Did you find out about, uh-"

"Jones? Yes, I found his real file. I assure you that was no easy task."

"I helped!" Yong Soo felt the need to add on.

"He explained everything to me," I went on, "Alfred, that is, although some of it is quite hard to believe."

"So you know why you think he's innocent?" he asked hopefully.

"Yes I do."

"And?"

"Nothing's changed."

"Huh?"

I looked back up at the sky as I saw Yong Soo reach into his pocket to pull out his ipod. "The sky is still blue, the grass is still growing. Everything is still puttering on as it always has." I chuckled, "I suppose in the end, he was right after all. It didn't really matter."

(I'm just rambling now aren't I? Probably sounding like some sort of insane person, but still. Nothing's changed at all except my perspective, that now I know, but in the end, it isn't really that big of a deal. The fact that America is Alfred or Alfred is America or whatever is completely irrelevant in the very big picture of things.)

"Can you update me a little on your train of thought there?" Wright went on, "You've figured out why Alfred is innocent? Mind sharing with the rest of the class?"

I smirked. If Wright thought I was going to just outright tell him after everything I just had to go through, he was sorely mistaken. "What fun would it be if I spoiled the surprise?"

"You went through all that trouble and you're not going to tell me?"

"I told you at the very beginning: you are perfectly capable of doing your own job," I stood up and handed him the file. He could mull over that until tomorrow, "He is innocent; I have no more doubts about that. You better not screw this one up Wright. I'm feeling a bit generous right now, so I'll give you that to mull over." I stood up and shouted "Yong Soo, I'm leaving," over my shoulder, knowing that no matter how loud his music was, he'd still hear me.

"Ah, wait up Edgey!" he shouted as he ran to catch up with me.

After walking in silence for a few minutes, my companion unsurprisingly broke it, "Is it okay that you just handed the file to him like that?"

"Yes, it's fine. Knowing Wright he won't even realize what it all means anyway, at least not right away."

More silence elapsed before Yong Soo spoke again, "Do you, do you really think he'll be able to get Alfred off?" his eyes darted away, "I mean, I know he's your friend and everything, but he still doesn't seem very reliable and Kiku has a lot to say about him but you know how that is and-"

I paused, Yong Soo stopped besides me, and looked back the way we came. I mulled over the case so far, all the evidence that seemed to point directly at Alfred, the way the media was treating the case, the fact that, despite all that, he was not guilty of any murder.

What this case desperately needed was a turnabout.

"Absolutely. There's no one better."