Sakana-Chan63: Thanks a lot! I was hoping he sounded kind of creepy and *whisper whisper* we're calling him mad... pfftt... behind his back! And no, it doensn't much sound like Kristoph, does it? I suppose we'll just have to wait and see, then... Thanks for reviewing!

Disclaimer: As much as I wish I did, Capcom, I don't own your characters or settings. The plot and creepiness is all mine, though. Heeee...

Even after so long, he still wore his old blue suit out of sheer habit. It was a habit he couldn't shake, and he wasn't even sure it was one he wanted to shake. The material was a familiar, friendly texture upon his skin, and he felt that if his olfactory senses were just a little better, he'd be able to smell the scents of success and relief and just sheer dumb luck that came with it.

After checking his watch again, Phoenix decided to enter the building. For once, he had come extra early, and was sure that Edgeworth couldn't possibly be expecting him until after 8 o'clock in the morning.

Luckily, the lobbyist recognized him instantly, but since he was no longer a lawyer to have anything to investigate, he had to wait while she checked with the secretary to check with Edgeworth that Phoenix actually was being expected.

When the raven-haired man (Phoenix had felt the need to freshen up for his 'business meeting,' so he'd again reinforced his natural spikes into those sharper, cleaner ones that he'd always worn to court; only the small, gold badge – which most people didn't bother noticing anyway – had gone missing from this visage) knocked on the High Prosecutor's door, he was met with a weary-sounding 'come in' from within the office.

Tentatively, Phoenix turned the brass knob and allowed himself into the room that he dared call lavish. Perhaps even uptight or posh. Not that he'd tell the prosecutor that.

Burgundy drapes, hemmed with gold edging, hung from the large windows and were tied back by gold-thread rope. A similar – almost matching – sofa was placed meticulously at the very center of the left wall. Books and files filled the shelves.

In the center was a desk, sitting at which was a very worn-out Edgeworth. His grey eyes were dull as he looked up at the newcomer, but they brightened considerably when he recognized his friend. "Hello, Wright."

"Working overly hard as usual, Edgeworth?" Phoenix seated himself in the plush, wine-colored seat opposite of the busy man.

The former set aside what he had been currently poring over and brought out a file that lay beneath it. "Simply fulfilling my duties," he replied swiftly. He faced the ex-defense attorney squarely, pleasantry replaced by determined certainty. "Wright, I must remind you… Anything we discuss in this room will not be spoken of anywhere else. Everything regarding this case is completely confidential. Technically, I'm not even supposed to be speaking to you. Understood?"

"Wouldn't dream of thinking otherwise." He held his chin thoughtfully. "Though, I thought there were no leads on this case?"

"With both of our minds together, we'll certainly uncover something… And whatever it is will need to stay unspoken until granted permission. I'll hand to authorities what I can."

Phoenix was given a brief startle at Edgeworth's implication of a complement, but he decided that it could wait until later. "Aren't you the authority?"

"In the prosecution. It's not like I run the police force, too." He looked away. "But that's irrelevant." He leaned forward on the desk, placing his crossed arms closer to where Phoenix was. His hard eyes bore into the other man. "You wanted to know about the witness. The witness' name… is Kristoph Gavin; occupation—"

"Defense attorney," Phoenix completed for him, in his own revelation, then met Edgeworth's gaze.

"You know him?" the prosecutor asked, seeming genuinely surprised.

Phoenix sighed. "Yes, I do."

Edgeworth blinked, and then his eyes strayed to his companion's plain lapel. "Oh, yes, I seem to recall now." His voice was a tad softer than it was before. "During your… trial." The last word was spoken with bitterness.

The former defense attorney gave a defeated, tired smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "You know, Edgeworth, I was shocked that you didn't come to demand the truth from me the instant they kicked me out of that courtroom. Even maybe a little offended." The ending sentence was meant as a joke, of course, but nonetheless the maroon-clad man's demeanor darkened.

"That's because… I knew you were not to be blamed for that. I know you. You wouldn't abandon our pact for truth… for just one case of many. And I didn't want to force upon you questions that you might have been struggling to answer yourself, still. I would get my answers when you were ready to give them." He averted his gaze to stare at the wall of shelves behind the blue-suited man.

For a while, Phoenix was speechless. "T-truly?" he finally managed.

"I know you aren't a bad person, Wright. You know that."

Without warning, Phoenix felt a rush of affection for his childhood friend. He hadn't known that the prosecutor had cared at all, really. Sure, he could be a bit of a jerk sometimes… but he'd gotten better at it. The man across from him was, he realized, his best friend for a reason.

"Besides," Edgeworth continued, "I figured that by now, Miss Fey would have convinced you to try for the bar exam again." The slightest hint of amusement glinted in his eyes, a smirk gracing his lips, and for a blissful few minutes, both of them put the depressing case to the side as Phoenix laughed.

"She forced me. You know how she is."

"Yes…" But Edgeworth's smirk, as comforting as it had been, had disappeared as he had caught sight of the case files again. A small crease formed between his brows.

Phoenix sobered quickly. "Edgeworth," he started, changing the subject. "Can you tell me more about the… witness?"

The prosecutor sighed. "Allegedly, Mr. Gavin found the crime scene just as the police did. La— the victim was face-down on the pavement with a four-and-a-half-inch deep stab wound to his lower dorsal area. He described it as 'blood blossoming grotesquely from the back region.' He reportedly called it in only a couple minutes after passing by."

"Was there honestly no one else there to see a body in the road?"

"Not according to the witness. It's a small street, and there was no one else on scene when we arrived. Just him."

"I didn't see him there."

"He was being interrogated farther away. Not to mention that you were not focused on him at the time. You were searching for… Larry and myself."

Phoenix thought. There really wasn't much else to ask about Kristoph Gavin. "It was in the middle of the street," he pointed out. "He was stabbed from behind, so we can assume it was when he was unawares… thus he fell face down, without evidence of any struggle. Did anyone think that it was possibly a… street gang, or something of the sort? Perhaps Larry saw something he wasn't supposed to."

"Possibly," Edgeworth gave him, "though, there is something else. A stab like that… would not have killed him instantly. He would have had to bleed to death, and that is no fast process. Somehow, I have a feeling that even a dunce like him would not have simply lain on his face the entire time like a good little corpse. And I sincerely doubt that any gang would have cared whether he was flipped over when he was found or not; they would have fled the scene. Meaning that someone tampered with the crime scene…"

"Only, we don't have any proof of that. But, hypothetically, if Kristoph was truly the only one on scene, wouldn't that put him in a suspicious position?"

"Yes…" He paused. "But you're right. It's only hypothetical." He reached over to a small stack of evidence bags and pulled a single one out from beneath the others. In it was only a sheet of thick, waxy paper. Photo paper, Phoenix noted. The prosecutor handed him the bag.

That's when Phoenix turned it over. A tiny gasp escaped his lips after staring at it for several moments; there was Larry, in perfect aspect, grinning cheekily at the camera. It was obviously torn from a larger photo, so that it only depicted Larry. The background… was part of the courtroom lobby.

"E-Edgeworth, this picture..!"

"Recognize it?" The prosecutor leaned back slightly. "I thought you would."

"But… I know we all got copies, but I think… this is my copy…"

"How do you figure?"

"Kristoph… visited me recently." Here, Edgeworth elegantly raised an eyebrow. "When he was there, so was this picture. In the frame. He fussed around with it for a while, asking who the other people were… When he left, so did my photo."

Edgeworth laid a finger to his chin in thought. "I had thought it was some sort of killer's calling card, perhaps."

"It still could be," the former attorney said. The determined glimmer that only the courthouse could give him returned to his eyes. "Has this been checked for fingerprints?"

"Yes, just yesterday, as well as the murder weapon, which I just received this morning. Not a thing touched it but Larry."

Phoenix huffed. "Not enough evidence…"

"Of course not, Wright. And for all we know, Mr. Gavin could have stuck the photograph in the victim's hand after the murder occurred. There is nothing to point to him in almost any way."

The blue-clad man sighed. "I suppose we'll just have to wait and see, then."

It was hours later into the day when Phoenix began to wrap up his 'conference' with the High Prosecutor. As he stood decisively from the burgundy loveseat to stretch, he caught sight of Edgeworth staring into his now-cold tea. "Edgeworth..?"

The other man blinked, and looked up to meet his fellow's gaze. Clearing his throat, he commented, "Did you know that Miss Skye was due to return to America in a few days' time?" It was clear from his tone that he did not expect a straight answer.

Phoenix started. "Skye? As in Ema Skye?" He hadn't heard from the science nut since her last summer break.

"Indeed."

"I was under the impression that she was not returning for another year."

"Apparently, she skipped a year of college."

"Ah. That explains it." A small smile crept its way to his lips. "It will be good to see her again. She'll light up the rooms easily enough for us to forget about all of this soon enough."

"It would be nice, granted that she doesn't choose to ramble in that way of hers about boron or some such new elemental fad." The scowl he chose to wear to hide amusement while uttering this was so believable that anyone but Phoenix would have been fooled. Instead, it made the ex-attorney laugh aloud, and the up-tight prosecutor let the façade fall into a rare pleased smile.

"So I'm assuming you're going to be the one welcoming her home?" Phoenix asked him.

"Unless you are planning on biking to the airport and back at ten o'clock at night, yes, I suppose I will be," he replied smartly.

The blue-suited companion gave a dry chuckle. "Too many mosquitoes for that." He checked his watch. "Trucy should be coming home soon, so I'd better get going. What's today, Thursday?" He began to head for the door as the prosecutor stood to see his friend out. "Thanks, Edgeworth. I… appreciate it."

The maroon-clad man shook his head, knowing that Phoenix was not talking about his leading him to the office door. "It was my pleasure, Wright. Really. Say hello to Maya for me, won't you?"

"Right. Of course. She'll be glad to hear from you. Make sure to give Ema my regards whenever you pick her up."

Aww... Edgey, you're such a softy... And that's why we love you (among other things.)

Please review! Next chapter won't be out for a while, I don't think, but since summer is starting I'm hoping to get it out within a week.

By the way, if you guys could check out my new one-shot, 'Victim: As Reminisced by a Simple Detective,' I'd really appreciate it. It'll be an eventual Klema, I think.