sakana-chan63 - I do believe that will be revealed at a later time... But thanks a lot for your review! *gives cookie of choice*

Disclaimer: I do not own Ace Attorney, yadda yadda yadda...

Right.

Miles paced back and forth without pause for several minutes, and if he stared hard enough, maybe he could just make out wear marks on the rough pavement. But he didn't waste valuable time staring at streets. He didn't even bother to speak, nor to pay attention to what the forensics team was doing at the moment, and quite frankly he didn't care. All that mattered was this... situation.

Being honest to himself, he knew he didn't even belong on scene; after all, this wasn't his case - if it counted as a case at all, yet. No suspects apprehended, and not enough evidence to go by. The only thing for certain was that this was a clear homicide.

But the good detective had called him in to the scene, as technically he was allowed there, pulling a few strings - and the victim was a person of interest to Miles. Much interest, to put it mildly.

Outwardly, the prosecutor showed only cool composure, as if not related to the victim at all. Inwardly... inwardly, he was devastated. The edges of...something... crumbled within him, his mind numb and his chest hollow. It wasn't possible, he told himself firmly. It's just another immature prank to be pulled. And yet, as soon as he would convince himself of that, he'd pause shortly to glance at the body currently being scanned by CSI and forensics and remind himself that nope, that man was most definitely dead as a doornail.

"Mr. Edgeworth, sir!"

He spun on his heel, glaring all round, not even caring who the recipient was. "What is it now?" he hissed.

Detective Gumshoe cringed under the force of the other man's eyes. "The lab guys have identified the victim, sir!"

"Damn right they have," Miles muttered undetectably under his breath, then asked sharply, "And?"

"Just as we expected-"

"-knew-"

"-It's one Laurence Butz, age 26... Caucasian male. Tecchies are pretty positive he died from blood loss from a stab wound the lower dorsal area."

It was as he had told them. He had known instantly, just by glancing in the victim's direction, who it was, but hearing it from an official - even Gumshoe - made it seem 1000 times worse.

Unconsciously, Miles bit his lower lip, and turned his head away - away from all the blood, wetly crimson against the sidewalk; away from the violent manslaughter, so fresh that the body was still warm; and most of all turned against that body's...identity. In a desperate attempt to calm his thoughts, he tried to remind himself of all the faults owned by that man; things that Miles sure wouldn't miss. Larry was an imbecile. Larry failed at every one of his jobs. Larry was eccentric. Larry-

Was nonetheless a friend.

"Are you okay, Mr. Edgeworth, sir?" Gumshoe asked with concern behind him.

"O-of course I'm okay! What do you take me for, a child?" he suddenly snapped irritably, his automatic defensive system kicking into gear for times - such as now - when his central control began to shut down in shock.

"No sir, that's not what I..." After a moment of awkward silence, the detective backed off.

Miles sighed dejectedly, and forced himself to look back at the scene. The forensics team was nearly finished, and there was no point in aimlessly wandering and mourning when he could be of use.

First, however, was the light tapping of his fingers as he quickly dialed a number on his red Blackberry. Wright would need to know.

Phoenix's office phone rang an hour and a half after he had called Edgeworth. The ringtones woke both him and Maya from their TV-front naps. Groggily, Phoenix answered. "Phoenix Wright speaking."

"Wright, get down here, now." The voice was urgent.

"Woah, woah, woah. Edgeworth?" he asked.

"Who else? ...I need you down at the scene. Now. Don't bring Maya with you."

"Edgeworth... what happened? What's wrong?" Phoenix became worried.

"It... it's..." The man on the other line sighed. "It's Larry." After taking a breath, Edgeworth told him the location.

"I know that street." Phoenix stood quickly, dislodging Maya from his entire right side. She huffed. "I'll be there in fifteen minutes."

"Too long."

"Ten." Without farther ado, he hung up, leaving the former in disconnection. He grabbed his coat. "I'll be right back."

"Nick, where are you going?" Maya asked curiously.

"I have to meet Edgeworth. It's something about Larry." Upon meeting her gaze, he added quickly, "Edgeworth specifically told me not to bring you, Maya. Otherwise I'd take you."

"Well, he better get the memo, because I'm 20 years old now. I can legally do whatever I want."

Phoenix shrugged, then waved his hand in a short reply and exited to go and retrieve his bicycle without waiting, leaving Maya to watch him furiously.

He pedaled as fast as he could go, and eventually his legs became numb. It didn't matter; if Edgeworth admitted he needed him somewhere, then it was urgent. A crime scene, if Phoenix had heard correctly. And if it's about Larry, that must mean he'd gone and gotten himself accused again.

Without realizing it, he knocked a couple of people off of the sidewalks and bike paths in his hurry to reach the scene fast enough, and was cursed at many times. His ears didn't register; he concentrated only on his direction and the reason why Edgeworth would want him on a crime scene when Larry could wait to see Phoenix the next day in detention – despite the fact that Phoenix could not possibly defend him.

Eight minutes. It took him eight minutes to arrive on scene. When he noticed police and squad cars milling about, as well as a certain parked red Cadillac, he dropped his bike onto the pavement and stumbled several meters to where he saw the prosecutor waiting with crossed arms and a thoughtful expression. Phoenix's legs throbbed, and he rubbed his calves to assuage the ache.

"Edgeworth," he panted. "What is it? ...Where's Larry?"

The other man said not a word, his eyes pained, and nodded solemnly in the direction of the exact crime, behind the former defense attorney.

Phoenix turned to look just as the coroner began to place a limp corpse into a large, black, zippered bag to prepare it for processing and autopsy. He noticed a flash of familiar strawberry-blond hair.

"No..." he felt himself murmur in disbelief. His heart rate slowed to even sluggishness. "It can't be..." He whipped back to face Edgeworth, whose expression was downcast despite his collected manner. "You're lying."

"Wright, as much as I wish I was lying, I assure you... that I am not." Edgeworth's despair seemed very genuine.

As much as he wanted to disbelieve it, there wasn't any escaping the truth. Larry was gone. Lamenting over what had already passed was no use. For a few minutes, the two men gave a moment of silence for the deceased; he deserved that much. Edgeworth stared hard at his dark wingtip shoes, his hands in his pockets, while Phoenix hung his head in his hands, fingers once more digging through the spikes of his hair. After a long pause, he sighed deeply and dejectedly, still stunned into emotional numbness, and looked up at the prosecutor. He was surprised to find his own voice ask, "So what now? What kind of leads do we have?"

"...Zero to none. Very clean. Why?" Edgeworth seemed almost hesitant to answer.

"It doesn't matter that I'm not a lawyer anymore. If I can help, I will. For Larry."

The maroon-clad man huffed and scuffed his shoe against the hot pavement. "There aren't any suspects yet. There was no one at the scene when it was called in."

"Doesn't that make the caller a suspect?"

"We have no evidence other than that. It doesn't prove anything."

"And what might this witness' name be?"

"That's on restriction to the public, Wright. You should know that."

He frowned. "Can you at least give me a description?"

"Wright..."

"Fine. What did they find around... the body?"

Edgeworth sighed. "Look, Wright. I know you're attempting to do what you think is right, and you mean well, but you aren't allowed to investigate. You're a civilian, and you won't be getting a case." Patiently, he raised a hand to stop Phoenix's oncoming protest. "However... I'll see if I can give you a break, and you can help mepiece this thing together." He took a step back towards his car. "See me at my office tomorrow. I'll try to get you the details. But right now... you need to head home."

What..? "How... how could you just...say that? So calmly? When it's Larry... Larry..."

The former turned back to him, but didn't meet his gaze. "Maya... needs to know." And ending on that note, the prosecutor ducked into his red convertible, and was gone.

Spirits heavy, Phoenix fell into a sitting position on the curb, and sighed.