ii. Farewell, My Turnabout

Mia grimly fed a handful of change into the vending machine and punched in her selection. She leaned her head against the plastic finish while her cup filled, and resisted the urge to hit something.

She hated this. Someone was holding her baby sister hostage, and instead of being out there looking for her, she was stuck mooching around the damn hospital, breathing in the fragrance of antiseptic and puke that permeated every room and corridor.

But De Killer had been very, very clear the last time he'd made contact.

"Very well, Mr. Attorney. I will spare your assistant's life for now," the assassin had agreed. "However, I would caution the elder Ms. Fey not to go snooping where she doesn't belong. Accidents can happen, after all."

He'd let Maya speak then, to Mia's relief.

"I'm fine, Sis. Just go about your day, okay? And tell Diego hi for me."

Mia picked up the cup and blew on the scalding hot coffee inside. Hell, maybe she was better off here. The stress of the kidnapping had made her memory even leakier, and she could barely keep the timeline or the evidence straight – let alone help Phoenix find contradictions in the cross-examination. Glaring across the courtroom at Miles Edgeworth wasn't exactly constructive, either. Phoenix had tried to phrase it diplomatically, going with "Go see your friend, Chief. I won't let anything happen to Maya, I promise." But she knew he really meant you're no good to me like this.

Mia took a cautious sip of coffee and slowly made her way down the corridor. The nurse at the station gave her a sympathetic smile as she passed. Mia reached the familiar room at the end, shouldered the door open, and hobbled inside. She lowered herself carefully into the hard plastic chair by the bed and set her coffee on the bedside locker.

Diego lay before her, surrounded by faintly beeping machinery. Over the last five years his jet-black mane – his pride and joy – had faded to pure white. He'd had a summer tan when that demon poisoned him, but after years of being shut inside it was long gone. Even his natural colour was paler now from lack of sunlight. Almost as if he were merging with the crisp, white hospital sheets; becoming one with the bed, never to wake up.

She shook off the morbid thoughts and took his hand.

"Hey, Diego."

His hand was always too cold, and she rubbed it gently between hers, taking care not to disturb the IV line running from the back of it.

"Maya says hi."

Nothing. No hand squeezing back, no smile, not even an eyelid flutter. At least it didn't hurt to see him like this anymore. During the first terrible few weeks, she'd felt like someone had ripped her heart out and was squeezing it in front of her. After that came a cold, patient anger. Hawthorne had passed the evidence off on someone, and it was only a matter of time before she brutally dealt with that loose end. Mia had blotted out every other emotion, watching and waiting for Hawthorne to show her nasty little face again.

But after finally bringing her to justice, Mia had reached her lowest ebb. The wicked fairy was defeated, and Sleeping Beauty was supposed to wake up. But he didn't. And there was nothing more she could do, except watch and wait, for as long as it took, as one year rolled into the next. The one small mercy was that the passionate love she'd felt for Diego had slowly faded, leaving a deep, platonic fondness in its place.

"Maya's in trouble, Diego," Mia continued. "Someone's got her stashed away somewhere, and we've got no clues, nothing." She took a deep breath and let it out. "And I can't help her. Even if I didn't have a bad leg and a worse memory, I wouldn't know where to start looking."

She turned his hand over in hers, her lips twitching into a smile as she traced one of the scars on his palm.

"I bet you'd try, though," she murmured shakily. "You'd say, 'let's see those claws, kitten', and 'the only time a lawyer can cry…'"

She broke off, fighting for control.

"I can't lose her, Diego," she choked out. "I can't lose any more of the people I care about." She pressed her cheek to the back of his hand. Despite her efforts, a few stray tears escaped down her nose.

His fingers twitched.

Mia stared as Diego's brow creased and a low moan escaped his lips. The beeping of the machines increased in volume and intensity as he struggled to speak.

"M…Mia…"

His voice was croaky from lack of use. His grip on her tightened – still weak, but definitely there. Mia slid off the chair and onto her knees beside the bed. Her bad leg complained, but she ignored it. She felt like she was floating.

Diego's eyes flickered open, and he tilted his head weakly towards her.

"M-Mia…"

"Yes, Diego," Mia said breathlessly. He was awake, really awake, after all this time, and he knew her. "Yes, I'm here."

"Circus," Diego mumbled.

"It's okay, Diego," Mia babbled. It was a miracle. Miracles were real, she was witnessing one right now. "Everything's going to be okay. Just let me get a nurse…" She reached for the chair to pull herself up, letting go of his hand.

He seized her fingers before she could move.

"I saw the circus."

Mia looked at him, cold fear washing over her suddenly. They'd warned her there might be brain damage, both from the poison and from the length of the coma. Better humour him so that she could call someone.

"That's great, Diego," she murmured reassuringly. "We'll talk all about it when the doctor –"

He grunted and bumped his head on the pillow, scowling in frustration.

"Maya…" Diego licked his lips clumsily. "Maya said… to tell you…"

Mia's mind raced as she stared at him. This was what Maya had meant all along. She'd used her time in captivity to hatch a wild, crazy plan and tell her about it without De Killer knowing. She must have been desperate. There were stories about mediums channelling unconscious people, but it hadn't been tried in centuries. And Maya had no way of knowing if Diego would wake up when his spirit returned to his body. Mia moved closer, ignoring the louder, erratic beeping of the monitors and the sound of footsteps outside.

"Maya channelled you," she guessed. "Maya channelled you and you could see the circus from where you were."

Diego nodded. "Uh-huh." He frowned, squinting at her. "…I can't see you."

"I'm here," Mia promised. She glanced up at the doctors entering the room. But probably not for long. "You saw the circus? From where? How far away?"

"Third floor," Diego mumbled. "Three… three hundred feet."

The nurse from the station laid a hand on her shoulder.

"Miss Fey, you have to leave now."

Mia shook her off, letting go Diego's hand in the process.

"Gimme a minute," she snapped. Two doctors and another nurse were converging on the bed and she looked up at them desperately. "Please. Please, thirty seconds."

"Mia!"

Diego reached for her. The IV line slipped out of his hand and splattered blood on the floor. Mia lunged and grabbed his hand.

"I'm here!" she assured him. "I understand. Maya's on the third floor, three hundred feet from a circus. Right?"

Diego nodded, then frowned again, a look of panic slowly taking over his features. "Can't… see anything…"

"It's going to be okay," Mia promised. "The doctors are going to help you now." She grabbed for her cane to push herself back on her feet. Diego squeezed her hand before she could let go, blood dribbling down his wrist.

"Mailbox… outside."

Mia nodded. "Circus, three hundred feet, third floor, mailbox outside," she repeated. The doctors and nurses were getting impatient. "I'll be right back, Diego. I'll be right outside."

He let go of her hand. Mia lurched out of the room as the medical staff surrounded him. She fished her phone out of her purse and scrolled to Gumshoe's number before she could forget Maya's message.

It was a long, crazy shot in the dark, but it was better than nothing.