I do not own Ace Attorney, its amazing characters, IFly, the airlines, or Cadillac. I do, however, own the plot, because it was free.

And guys, I'm so sorry, I just reread my previous chapters and realized how out-of-character Kristoph was when he talked to Phoenix. I'll make him more in-character next time we see him (soon).

Atroquinine-Deadly- Thanks! There should be way more action in the next couple of chapters, though. Teehee =D thanks for reviewing!

FeytedintheTARDIS- Yes, Ema will definitely be in this story! She's actually a key piece of the main plot, especially towards the end. And, thanks so much! YES THANK YOU I NEED LUCK VERY BADLY. X_X

Sakana-Chan63- Hmm... interesting sort of thing I've twisted. To be totally honest, I confused myself a little bit. That's not a complement to myself, heheh. And that one piece, 'Victim,' is actually a part of a much bigger story that I'm working on, but it will not be out for a while, so I figured it was safe to post as a one-shot for now. I'll remove it once the full story is up.

Enjoy, and thanks for reading! But quiet please; it's snacktime.

"Daddy!"

Phoenix looked up quickly from his cup of coffee to see his adopted daughter burst through the front door of his small apartment. He blinked for a second, realizing that he hadn't even heard the click of her key in the lock, but soon enough broke into a large smile. Rising from the couch, he knelt to catch her small form. "Trucy!" Lifting her up, he spun the little girl around easily, earning in turn a few burbles of laughter from her. "How are you?"

"Good!" She bounced up and down happily. "School was fun today! The teacher let me show off Mr. Hat to the class – " She continued to ramble on about some new kid in class and what her friends said and describing what she had learned in science that day, as she followed Phoenix into the kitchen as he poured her a cup of milk. Her light pink cape fluttered behind her as she walked, proudly displaying the hearts and diamonds stitched into the edges. As she sat down on the couch, still talking, the former attorney was content to simply watch her, glowing with the broad smile upon her rosy cheeks. The information spilling from her sweet lips floated through one ear and out the other as he 'listened.'

Then she paused, tearing him from his reverie. She studied him. "So how was your day, Daddy?"

He blinked. "M-my day? It was… eventful… I mean, I had a good day, too, Trucy, thank you for asking. I got to see Edgeworth this afternoon –"

She stopped him, testing out the new name on her tongue. "Ed-ji-worth..? Who's that?"

For a while, Phoenix was simply shocked into unresponsiveness. 'Ed-ji-worth.' Just like how Pearl pronounced it. Exactly the same. His vision blurred, and all of a sudden, young Pearls was sitting in front of him, not his daughter.

"…Daddy?"

He stood quickly, shaking off all pretenses of his hallucination. Pearls was at Kurain. She was training to become an even more powerful medium. She had been gone for months now. "Mr. Edgeworth…" he explained slowly, "is one of my best friends. I'll take you to meet him sometime. I'm sure… you'll get along."

She seemed pleased by this answer, and if she noticed his tenseness, she said nothing about it; which Phoenix thought to be more likely. He had learned a while ago not to underestimate her ability of reading people accurately.

Miles tapped his steering wheel animatedly as he slowed to a stop at the red light, finger movements corresponding perfectly in time with the soft classical music drifting delicately from the radio. He quickly glanced at the digital clock that glowed green on the dashboard: 9:45. Beside him lay the small stack of paperwork that he had printed up, describing the directions from the office to the airport, and what terminal Ema would be landing in at 10 o'clock.

He didn't show it, but Miles was glad for the young scientist's return to Los Angeles. He knew that Lana missed her younger sister, especially since being released from jail only a few months ago. Ema's spritely, optimistic attitude would help lighten everybody's dark moods, and Miles felt that he could use the contagious joyfulness that could only radiate from a young companion. After all, Kay had left for a while to visit Borginia and Zheng Fa as 'academic studies,' and Maya, last he had heard, was busy keeping Wright company. Franziska was in Germany, and was not due to return for several weeks.

Pulling forward from the intersection again, Miles turned carefully into the parking garage of the Los Angeles airport, and again when he reached the area sectioned off for IFly Airlines. Gravel and rubble under the tires of his red Cadillac sports car ground against the asphalt as he parked in a spot marked with a painted green stopper. [A/N: I don't even know if they color-code the stop-bars to each different airline area there, but I know they do at my own friendly local airport. Whether it was green or not for IFly was left simply my imagination.] He checked the clock again. 9:51.

Opening the door, his long legs stretched outwards as he exited his car after turning off the ignition. Tossing his keys into his pants pocket, he stepped through the sliding glass ingress. There was already a small crowd of people waiting for this particular plane, but, scanning all of their faces, Miles found no one that he knew. It was just him that would be waiting for Ema, he supposed. He glanced as his watch after a few minutes of standing. 10:03.

A minor flood of people began emerging from the terminal gates, lugging behind them heavy suitcases and carry-on bags and briefcases, seeming in a rush to get home as they met with their loved ones. Miles' keen eyes raked over all of these strangers, searching intently for an idiosyncratic figure.

Finally, he spotted her. She was one of the last individuals in the steady stream of people, drifting away from the rest as she walked alone at a snail pace, looking for all the world as close to a zombie as one could theoretically get, singling her from the herd. Behind her was dragged a gigantic, horrid yellow suitcase as big as she was. Large, multicolored IFly symbols littered the mustard surface, displayed in such a way that made one want to cringe openly. As it was, Miles couldn't help wrinkling his nose in the slightest. He vaguely remembered gifting it to her, though he in no way expected her to keep it for so long.

Letting his eyes drift to her person, he found her quite the worse for wear. She still wore that old lab coat unfailingly, partnered by the rose-tinted glasses that were perched upon her head amidst a tangle of brown locks. Her eyes, however, were surrounded by large, dark rings that accentuated the half-closed lids. Her cheeks were hued with green, as if she had encountered some sort of sickening factor, and her feet seemed ready to fall off, the way she seemed to never be able to lift them off the floor.

Miles took a few steps in her direction, waiting for her to catch sight of him. And waited. She nearly bumped into him and still showed no signs of recognition. He frowned; he hadn't changed that much, had he? Clearing his throat as she almost walked past him, he greeted, "Welcome back, Miss Skye."

She blinked lazily. "Thanks…" Then she squinted up at him almost comically, and started, nearly tripping over herself in the process. "Hey… Hold on… M-Mr. Edgeworth?"

He gave a small breath of a laugh, amused. "Ah," he commented, "I'm glad to see that you've decided to return to Earth, as well." He took note, with some concern, of how blood-shot her green eyes were. "How are you feeling?"

Now that she recognized him, a wide, pleased grin began to stretch across Ema Skye's face. And, before he knew what was going on, Miles found himself in a tight, unbreakable embrace, Ema's small arms wrapped violently around his midsection. His muscles were frozen stiff, and he found himself unable to move for a while. Upon receiving stares from surrounding crowds, he tried to peel the girl off from his body. "Yes… okay…" he muttered awkwardly, and pushed her away as gently as he could manage.

Ema released the prosecutor quickly enough after that. A tiny flush had found its way to her cheeks, replacing the sickliness, as she placed her hands upon her waist. "I'm much better now, really," she said brightly, though her gaze was still heavy with exhaustion. Miles observed a hint of an English accent lingering in her voice.

His attention slipped again to the suitcase next to her. "Why do you still have that thing?" he asked, truly curious. "I thought you would have been rid of it by now."

Her brow furrowed defensively. "Of course not! You gave it to me, after all…"

He turned and started towards the exit, knowing she'd follow. "Is that your only reason for keeping it?" he pressed further, as he heard her grabbing said bag and tailing him closely after.

"Uh… well… it was a gift, you know; I couldn't just throw it out…"

The man stayed silent this time, deciding that he really didn't need to know the answer; perhaps she had needed a suitcase, after all.

"H-hey, Mr. Edgeworth?"

"Yes, Ema?" he inquired lightly, not bothering to turn and look at her as they neared the egress.

It took her a little while to continue. "Why did you come to see me, anyway?" She paused. "I mean, it's greatly appreciated, don't get me wrong, it's just… well, I thought you'd be busy, and… stuff."

He smirked a little bit. "Well, as you most likely know, Lana wasn't allowed to come and see you – not that she has a vehicle of her own, still, anyhow – and Detective Gumshoe was busy heading a case. I had not seen you in a while, and as I'm sure you'd prefer to see a familiar face welcoming your return that having to hail a taxi, I set aside my work for tonight to drive you home."

Her reply was hesitant. "…Thanks a lot, Mr. Edgeworth. You didn't have to do this… I hope you didn't feel you needed to set really important things aside just to pick me up from an airport."

"Nonsense." He took his keys out from his pants pocket, tossing them around in his hand. "What apartment complex are you staying at?"

She told him, meekly, then followed in silence for a while. Finally, as his car came into view, she spoke up. "Hey, what about Mr. Wright?"

Miles frowned, but Ema didn't see it. Instead, he forced himself to sound cheerful. "If you don't recall… Wright does not even own a driver's license, let alone a vehicle."

"Still?"

"Besides—" he checked his watch again, after pausing at the back of his car, barely making out the miniscule numbers and clock hands in the dark of the garage, "—at this time of night, he'd have to be putting Trucy to bed by now." Reaching to take Ema's suitcase from her, he unlocked the trunk and opened it broadly, easing the large bag into the car.

Ema was totally silent behind him. He turned to her, a question written on his face as to if she was alright, but found her standing straight and stiff. Her eyes were glued to the darkness of the trunk, and she seemed unable to move at all. A slight mist had gathered at the corners of her eyelashes. He knew that she wasn't seeing just the trunk any longer.

Miles swallowed, unsure of exactly how to comfort her. He moved to stand close beside her. "I had the trunk replaced," he whispered softly. [A/N: Can trunks even get replaced? Do they offer that at repair shops?] "Ema… this car has been clean for four years now." He stepped back again carefully, waiting for her to react to something.

After a few seconds, she blinked and looked up at him quickly, as if she sought reassurance. But just as suddenly as she glanced up did she turn back away, and she reached up to close the back door. "S-so…" she began again, pitifully, as she headed for shotgun, "W-who's this 'Trucy'?"

He turned to her in surprise as he seated himself on the leather of the Cadillac interior. "I hadn't told you yet?"

Slowly, Ema shook her head, looking bemused.

Miles inhaled, shifting gears so that it no longer rested in park, and murmured, "Trucy is Wright's daughter."

"WHAT?" Ema's surprise and sudden jerkiness was certainly justified, but that still did not prepare the prosecutor for the hand that was flung out in her ire and struck him in the chest, flattening his cravat and causing him to slam on his brakes from the suddenness of her action. She seemed to realize what she had just done, and shrunk back within herself. "O-oh! I'm… I'm so sorry, Mr. Edgeworth!"

Though his eyebrows were still raised in surprise, he shook it off inwardly. "Quite alright… Though, I do wish you'd give me some sort of warning first…"

He was mildly aware of her shameful silence, but then, the voice of a curious scientist like her was never silent for long. "But… Mr. Edgeworth…" she sat upright in her seat again in protest. "When? How? Who? Why wasn't I told?"

Outwardly, he sighed, but he was more amused than anything. His own reaction had been similar at first… minus the physical abuse. "If it makes you feel any better, Ema, Trucy was only adopted four months ago."

She fell back. "Oh…" Bringing a finger to her chin thoughtfully, she asked, "And… how old is she?"

Miles racked his memory. "I do believe she is eight years old."

"Hmm…" Ema seemed deep in thought, and then decisively began to scribble something on a notepad she had produced from one of her coat pockets. "I'll have to meet her!" she finally exclaimed aloud. Then, "H-hey, Mr. Edgeworth, what about… Maya?"

Startled, he glanced at her quickly. "What about her..?"

"Well… I mean, does she still visit? I heard she became… what was it… Mistress of her, ah, village, or something?"

"Master of Kurain," Miles corrected, almost the instant it had come out of Ema's mouth. "How do you know her?"

"I-I saw her when I visited Mr. Wright over breaks, remember?"

"Hum… I do recall something of the sort…"

"But… does she sort of act like a sister to Trucy now, or… more like a mother..?"

"I don't think they've met, as of yet."

"Huh." She sounded like she wanted to question that, but after a while, she let the subject drop as she moved to a new topic. "So, what about Mr. Wright? Is he busy now? You think I'd be able to go visit him tomorrow?"

Miles watched her out of the corner of his eye. "You really have been kept in the dark, haven't you, Ema?"

She blinked in surprise, face blank. "Wh-what do you mean? Did something happen to Mr. Wright?"

Thinking back to Wright's 'trial' and the corruption the judicial system left an acrid taste in his mouth. Bitterly, he commented, "Wright has all the time in the world, now. I'm sure you'd be able to visit at any hour if you wished it."

Ema sat quietly, taken aback by Miles' sharp tongue. "Mr. Edgeworth…" she whispered helplessly.

The prosecutor sighed, letting the furrow in his brow soften back out. "I apologize… His badge was taken, Ema. He no longer has work to do."

She was silent for a long time, as if trying to process all of this new information. "Uh… What?" She shook her head violently. "Did he retire early? How is he? Is he living alright? He did retire, right? Tell me he retired."

Miles held a hand to stop her, though he kept the other firmly on the steering wheel as his eyes never left the road. "No, Ema," he insisted, "listen to me. It was taken. He lost it, permanently. As a penalty."

"Penalty?" she echoed indecisively. "P-penalty for what? What could he have done?"

He allowed a small sigh to escape his lips. It pained him to think about it, though he wouldn't willingly reveal that fact. ""Apparently, he… he presented forged evidence."

Ema sucked in a breath. "I don't believe it. What kind of nonsense is that? Forged evidence, my ass!" She paused for only a millisecond for air. "Mr. Wright wouldn't do that! He doesn't need to. He's a genius!"

He felt it best not to interrupt her at this point. He concurred with most of what she had to say, anyhow.

"If he ever felt pressured enough that he'd have to use forged evidence, he would have done it at Lana's trial as a rookie, not on the first day of court with years of experience behind him! If- if any git could think –"

"Ema." They were nearing her apartment building now, and carefully he pulled into a lone parking space, moving the gear shift so that it didn't read 'drive.' Now free from having to concentrate on the roadway, he turned to meet the girl's gaze. "I couldn't do anything about it," he whispered in a moment of weakness. "I know, Ema, that he's not to blame. But I have little more than theories or logic to prove it." Blinking, and slightly embarrassed, Miles looked away, and instead turned his attention to unbuckling his seatbelt.

As he was climbing from the car, he heard Ema ask, "Well, wasn't he given a fair trial?"

At the mention of this, the prosecutor's hand slipped, and ended up slamming the door shut instead of closing it gently. His tone was bitter when he spoke again, opening the trunk to retrieve Ema's suitcase. "If you call a simple meeting of defense attorneys a 'fair trial.'" He paused, taking a deep breath as he pulled the IFly suitcase from its storage. "The justice system in this country is slowly becoming corrupted, Ema," he warned her heavily.

Ema blinked again, then took her bag from him. "Thanks." Placing upon the asphalt ground, she rifled through the contents, obviously searching for something. Miles supposed it was for the keys to the apartment; he recalled her telling him, some time ago, that her sister had helped her buy it.

"So," she murmured softly, as if not wanting to aggravate him, "C-can you tell me about your logic and your theories?" She was just beginning to zip up her suitcase after finding the keys at the very bottom.

Miles was tempted, very tempted, and had just opened his mouth to speak, when he shut it again and shook his head. "Not today."

She whipped around to look at him. "But –"

His brow furrowed, determined not to tell her. Not yet, anyway.

Ema sighed, before her eyes lit up with a new thought occurred to her. "Wait… Mr. Edgeworth? Who was the prosecutor for that case?" Her eyes widened. "Not… you, was it?"

He smirked, and shook his head again, though this time a refusal would be a relief. "No, don't worry, it wasn't me. I would not have known about the forged evidence. Though…" he hesitated on his next words. "It was, in fact, one of the newer prosecutors I've been helping to train… His name is Klavier Gavin, have you heard of him?"

Slowly, she shook her head, before visibly clenching her jaw. "No, and by the look of things, I don't want to."

Somehow, Miles found this amusing, and gave a short laugh. "I must admit that I'm surprised. Apparently, he's also a bit of a 'rock-star.' Supposed to be very popular among the younger, female age group. Like you. The… Gavinners, if my memory serves correctly?"

Ema frowned as she started to walk towards the complex entrance, dragging the ugly yellow suitcase along behind her. "What kind of imbecile names his band after himself? That's the biggest display of unhealthy egoism I've ever heard of." She turned to him directly. "I hope I never have to meet him."

The burgundy prosecutor smirked broadly, earning a blush and a bite of the lip from the young science nut. She looked away, and instead silently climbed up the three flights of stairs to the floor where her apartment was situated, hefting the bag along forcefully. After the first flight, Miles had politely offered to carry the heavy bag for her, seeing how exhausted she was, but was vehemently refused after a slight flush of the cheeks. She had even protested against his following her to her apartment, but finally gave in after he bestowed a small bow and told her that he would see her through, and make sure she was alright.

Though, when he made to take his leave once Ema had unlocked her door and flicked on the dimming lights – after all, Pess still needed to be fed – the girl stopped him with a hand on his arm. "Um… Please, stay, Mr. Edgeworth." From the lighting in the room, he could see even better how tired she really was, with her skin pale and darkness forming just above her cheekbones.

He shook his head gently. "I don't wish to intrude; you need your rest, Ema, after all, as displayed by the rings under your eyes…"

"Of-of course not! We're not done… catching up… yet…"

He gazed at her more sternly this time. "Ema. You're exhausted." As compensation, he offered a small smile. "We can talk tomorrow, if you visit the office. I'm sure the good detective would enjoy seeing you again."

She sighed, defeated, and gripped the strap of her satchel that hung by her side. "Yes, all right. Have… have a good night, Mr. Edgeworth."

His cravat swaying as he turned away, he gave a tiny wave in adieu, beginning the decent back down the three flights of stairs.

Aha, and Ema discovers the existance of everyone's favorite Fop-King.

Cookies for reviews! Sorry, I know this isn't my best chapter... it's more like a filler chappie. I'll try to write the next one faster this time!