Chapter 41

Iron Goddess of Mercy

"We're a team," Gant said grinning at her through tinted spectacles and flashing that greasy smile. It was hard to look at him anymore—things weren't the same. She hated him. She hated him more because she'd always looked up to him.

"An unstoppable team," he said gesticulating with his massive arms and hands. Lana was starting to feel sick to her stomach.

"Now with me as Chief of Police and you at the DA—the DA," Gant continued as if she would suddenly sway to his cause—he should've known better, "Nothing can stop us!"

Lana glared at him. His hair had gone white in places and it softened him, made him look kindly even—but this tirade certainly proved otherwise.

"I've been on the investigator side of the house since I finished school—I don't even think I could pass the Bar—"

"We'll get you some books—maybe a study partner," Gant said tugging at the lapel of his garish coat, "You'll pass. Then I'll nominate you for the position."

Lana just shook her head hugging herself—an elbow cupped in each hand. This wasn't the same anymore. Everything had gone tangled and twisted and wrong.

"Please, Lana?"

She couldn't even answer with a gesture. His face clouded and he was suddenly menacing and he glared at her hard with those piercing green eyes.

"Lana, I wouldn't want to have to bring it up again. But I will use it—I'm perfectly willing to use—"

"I'd need at least a month—maybe two. My friend Mia is an attorney, she'll help me study."

Grant's glare softened and his mouth stretched into that wide, somehow sinister grin.

"Keep me up to date on your progress. I'll start working the other angles…"

"Damon, how long are you going to keep this up?"

He startled and for a moment she recognized her mentor—her friend. He pushed his colored glasses up on the bridge of his nose and they promptly slid back down.

"It's for the good of the people in this district," he said and turned his back to her to gaze out of her window.

"But you keep saying 'us'. Nothing can stop 'us'. Really it's all about you. When did you stop caring about what we do and decide that you were the number one priority? When did this become less about fighting crime and more about empowering yourself?"

Damon Gant tipped a shoulder back and turned his head to smirk at her, "I can find another one like you Lana. I'm not afraid to use it. Because there are always gung ho kids like you coming up the ranks to take your place. So don't get cheeky with me."

Lana shuddered at his words. She couldn't move from her seat and only watched solemnly as he walked toward that ridiculous harpsichord and sat down to play. She stared at the smooth expanse of her desk in front of her and thought about Ema as the haunting notes drifted through the room.

The day did not end soon enough.

She left the precinct after three and drove to the junior high school to pick up Ema, ever since the ordeal—the murder; the horror; the trial—Ema was nervous about hanging by her desk like she used to after school. At least having to pick up her sister gave her an excuse to leave earlier in the afternoons.

"Ema," Lana greeted her sister and cursed the stiffness of her own voice. But then the thought that Ema had killed someone, however accidental, and that she had to bear that secret as well as Gant's hovering threat, usually made it hard for her to be less than formal. She didn't hold it against her sister—it wasn't Ema's fault at all.

But this didn't seem like it would dissipate anytime soon.

"How was school?"

"Fine," Ema said and hefted her bag into the car. She let it drop heavily onto the floor of the front passenger seat before climbing in.

They drove in silence to her high-rise apartment building. Neither of them spoke when she parked and they gathered their respective things and made their way into the building. Lana watched her little sister surreptitiously as the elevator brought them up to her floor. She looked a little pale, a little tired. Fourteen was too young to deal with what Ema was dealing with.

"Ema," Lana said, "It'll get better. All things heal with time."

Ema glared at her, and if Lana hadn't been dealing with blackmail and open manipulation, she might have been unguarded enough to be upset. Instead she stared back impassively and waited for Ema to speak.

But Ema said nothing. When the elevator announced their arrival, she pushed her way ahead and walked toward the apartment. Lana followed quietly.

When their parents had died, and Lana was forced to accept responsibility for her baby sister, she'd been resentful. She was barely more than a girl herself. There were so many things she would have rather done than be a parent. But they'd survived that. They were stronger for it.

Maybe it would be the same with this.

Lana flipped through one of the legal pads stacked on the prosecution table while the defense team cross-examined Edgeworth's geneticist. He was so thorough. This wasn't new to her, but it was always remarkable to witness.

He'd been withdrawn all morning and she was at a loss as to why. The trial seemed to be going their way. Even now he stood following the defense's actions with enough tense energy to put the entire courthouse in a mood.

Miles Edgeworth always did have a quiet elegance about him—it made his arrogance tolerable. This morning he was as outwardly poised as he always was, but Lana was standing close enough beside him to notice that he was grinding his teeth and that there was a tell-tale shadow about his eyes. His hair was a little more ruffled in the back than it had been the previous day—he must've slept in his office again.

Lana crossed her arms and gave a soft cough.

Edgeworth turned his head slightly and his eyes flicked toward her for a moment.

"They have their own doctor, you know."

Edgeworth gave a slight nod. His gaze had already returned to the proceedings at hand. He leaned back slightly and crossed his arms and she noticed the subtle movement of his shoulders—like he was trying to ease some of that tension.

"Are you worried?"

She could tell that he was.

"No," he muttered in a barely audible whisper.

February 9, 11:47 A.M.

District Court

Courtroom No. 1

"Earlier, you testified that the profiles had a ninety-nine point eighty-nine percent match. I'm certainly not a scientist," moustache gave a bluff chuckle in the middle of his question, "But that seems awfully close to me, doctor."

"Yes," the doctor conceded, "But they are not identical."

"So if I had a photo and it was a ninety-nine point eighty-nine percent match with a second photo—"

"Objection, argumentative," Edgeworth said, "Doctor Ennay has stated numerous times in her testimony that identical twins have identical DNA. Her testimony clearly shows that Albert and Kurt Sheinheilig are not in fact identical, but rather fraternal twins. The defense is stalling for time."

"I assure you, Prosecutor Edgeworth, that I would like nothing more than to be gone from your presence. But my client's inno—"

"Objection!" Edgeworth repeated.

"Now see here—!" Moustache protested. The judge interjected with a slam of his gavel.

"Sustained. Mister Baffi, if you have any relevant questions please ask them quickly or stand down. We cannot waste any more time with frivolity."

Moustache huffed a little at the judge but returned to the defense table and muttered something to Wunderkind. After their muttered deliberation, Mr. Baffi approached the witness stand again.

"Doctor Ennay," he said and tugged at his moustache, "Would you say that point eleven percent was a huge margin of difference?"

"Yes, of course," she said and her brows flicked impatiently, "That's what I've been saying."

"A wide enough margin for more than siblings? Cousins perhaps?"

Edgeworth grimaced and drove his fist into the table. The doctor looked startled and looked toward the prosecution for direction before turning back to Mister Baffi.

"Sure," Doctor Ennay said, "It would be dependant on the actual relationship—how close they were to either parent. Or perhaps, say, the siblings of the parents were also married to each other."

The audience erupted in chatter and exclamations. Edgeworth looked like he wanted to scream. Wunderkind gave a slow smile. Moustache patted his protruding belly in satisfaction.

"I have no further questions your honor."

"Order!" The Judge smacked his gavel two or three times before the murmurs dissipated.

"I'm hungry," the Judge announced, "Recess for one hour and then we'll finish this up."

He banged his gavel and hopped down from the bench and disappeared into his chambers.

Edgeworth slumped against the wall behind him and Lana watched in dismay as Mister Baffi patted his young assistant on the arm. Then the defense counselors packed up their things and moved into the lobby. The courtroom itself bustled as the audience made their way out. Edgeworth didn't seem like he was going to move without any prompting.

"Mister Edgeworth!" she was startled when Gumshoe approached their table from where he'd been sitting somewhere in the audience, "Hey Mister Edgeworth, sir!"

"What is it, detective?" Edgeworth muttered at him.

"Detective Gumshoe," Lana said, "Calm down, please. Let's go out to the lobby at least."

She had to tap Edgeworth to stir him into following Gumshoe out of the courtroom. The lobby was quickly being deserted as people made for the cafeteria instead, and they were able to find a quiet bench out of the way to sit and get their bearings.

"What's gotten into you Edgeworth? You do have a plan to rebut this, don't you?" Lana said.

He only glared back in reply and then sat on the bench, arms crossed, back straight, knees together.

"Mister Edgeworth," Gumshoe interrupted, "I got that ID you asked for. The defense's co-counsel is a law student named—"

"Kristoph Gavin," Edgeworth interrupted. He had his eyes closed and Lana couldn't tell if it was because of his dread or if he was simply trying to organize his thoughts.

"What's this, Edgeworth?"

"Nothing, Chief," Edgeworth turned his harsh gray stare in her direction, "I simply asked Gumshoe to look a little more deeply into the background of the defense team. After all, they are new to this case."

"We should go eat lunch, sir," Gumshoe said hopefully, Edgeworth only cast a sidelong glare in his direction. Lana stared at the two of them—unsure what was happening. She had a feeling Edgeworth was trying not to mention some things in front of her and then she made the sobering realization that somehow she was starting to lose his trust in her.

"Detective," Lana said and pulled a twenty out of her pocketbook, "Would you please get me a drink from the coffee stand and something for yourself—Edgeworth would you like something?"

"No thank you, Chief," Edgeworth said through clenched teeth.

She waited until Gumshoe had disappeared around the corner toward the elevator lobby before taking a seat next to Edgeworth.

"What's going on, Edgeworth?"

"Aside from this disaster of a trial?" he said with not a little disdain.

"You're not yourself," she said. She wanted to touch him—put a hand on his arm—but there was a hint of warning in his demeanor. Not to mention her reluctance to continue to pursue him the way Gant had encouraged her to. That definitely hadn't helped. He said nothing.

Lana tugged on the red muffler she wore and stared at it in her hands, "You don't think we can still turn this around?"

Edgeworth uncrossed his arms and rounded on her suddenly, "No Chief. Eighty percent of the evidence that ties Kurt Sheinheilig to these murders is based on genetic material collected at each of the crime scenes. The entire defense is counting on that, and the fact that we cannot disprove the possibility that Albert might have been in any number of the sites—as an accomplice or the actual murder—creates a very troublesome element of doubt. I thought it would be enough to show that the brothers are not identical twins—but apparently, the jury's understanding of DNA—or lack of, is going to be enough to throw that argument out."

"The evidence hasn't been thrown out," Lana said.

"It may as well have been," Edgeworth grumbled, "You heard their reaction in the cross-examination—and that's our doctor! What's going to happen when the defense gets their quack on the stand?"

"What's really gotten into you—this isn't what we expect from Miles Edgeworth."

He let out a snort, "I haven't won a trial in over six months. I don't even know what that's like anymore. I don't even know if I can do it anymore."

Lana stared at him. He turned his head so that she couldn't see his face directly—or maybe it was to avoid looking at her. She frowned at him, bringing her brows together in a very stern 'V', "Edgeworth. Don't be foolish—we don't have time for this."

He glanced up at her suddenly, brows raised.

"You're right Chief," he said. He stood abruptly and walked toward the vending machines.

Lana folded her hands in her lap. Now, she was starting to get nervous about this trial.

"Mister Edgeworth!"

Lana looked up from where Edgeworth had left her sitting alone. She was sure he'd gone to get a snack or something from the vending machines. Instead there was some scuffling in the corridor and Gumshoe was running—spilling her coffee all over the courthouse floor.

"Edgeworth! What—are you insane?!"

When Lana joined Detective Gumshoe, she was shocked to find Edgeworth standing near the defense lobby nearly nose to nose with a smiling young man. He was poised and glaring murderously at him. It seemed he might jump the guy at any moment.

"Prosecutor Edgeworth!" She said and put her hands on her hips, squaring her shoulders and tossing her red muffler, "What's going on here?"

The younger man straightened up as best he could from where he was trapped against the wall. He flashed her a smile.

"Nothing to worry about, ma'am," he said, "Mister Edgeworth was just about to leave."

Edgeworth seemed to regain his bearing and stood back and straightened his jacket and cuffs. He shot Lana a cold glare.

"I'm going to go brush my teeth…"

"Edgeworth?" Lana stared. He was standing in the stairwell with his nose in a corner like a child that had been reprimanded. He didn't turn to look at her. He didn't speak either. He just stood there as if he could ignore her.

"Really, Edgeworth," she said and put her hands on her hips, "What's going on here?"

He turned his head toward her but refused to meet her eyes, "Nothing, I just needed a quiet spot… to think…"

"In the stairwell?" she crossed her arms and chuckled, "Did Manfred give you a time out?"

Edgeworth met her eyes then. His gray eyes were dark in the shadows of the stairwell. He glared hard at her with a cold defiance she'd never seen directed at her before. Maybe she shouldn't have said that—everyone teased the young prosecutor about that.

"I'm going back to my office," he said tersely, and added as an afterthought, "Chief."

Lana followed him to his office. 1203 used to be Neil Marshall's office. She remembered the cow-skin sofa with steer horns mounted on the wall above it. The wagon wheel he had mounted on the far wall. He used to have a bar hidden in the bookshelf under the window. Edgeworth had done away with the western motif and the office was transformed; tidy, elegant, and very pink…

"Is there something you need, Chief?" he said when he'd turned to close the door and found her standing in the way.

"Something's amiss," she said, "You're not your usual chipper self."

He raised an eyebrow at her attempt to lighten the mood. No one would ever describe Miles Edgeworth as 'chipper'.

He sighed and turned to walk toward his desk, pausing to motion at the sofa as he passed it.

"Would you like a cup of tea?"

"Yes, thank you," Lana said.

"Black tea or green tea?"

"Whichever," Lana said and seated herself on the comfortable sofa. He had impeccable taste—if one could forgive his limited palette.

Edgeworth stood at the shelf in front of the window where the shades had been pulled to block the view but not the light and flicked on his electric kettle. He was still facing the window as he shrugged out of his jacket and hung it over his chair.

"I did have something for you, Chief," he said, and he woke up his computer and poked around with the mouse for a few minutes. The click of the mouse echoed in the cold silence of his office. The printer stirred to life and he went to fill his teapot with loose tea he kept in fancy tins in a cabinet under the shelf. He poured the hot water and set it to steep before grabbing the page that shot out of the printer and walking it over to her. He said nothing as she took it.

Lana looked at him quizzically and began to read. She frowned. It wasn't long, the letter, Edgeworth never wasted time with pleasantry. It was his resignation letter. It described his history with the district in brief and his desire to end his law career. Lana looked up at the paper and frowned at him.

Edgeworth handed her a cup of fragrant tea. It was pale and almost golden. Neither black nor green. He moved back to his desk and sat heavily in his seat and sipped at his tea.

"Why would you want to resign?"

"I wished to inform you formally of my decision, Chief. To allow you the opportunity to find a replacement. The decision is my own and of no concern in the situation at hand."

"Just answer my question, Edgeworth."

He put his teacup on the desk and looked at her. He looked lost suddenly, and every bit his twenty-four years. It was easy to forget that he was still so young—most men his age in this vocation were just finishing school.

"I don't want to do this anymore," he said. She barely caught the words; his voice was barely audible.

"Edgeworth," Lana said cradling the teacup with both hands now, so that the letter wrinkled and creased, "This isn't over the Fey murder trial, is it?"

He didn't reply and hesitated several moments before shaking his head.

"But you're one of the best prosecutors this district has ever seen," she said, "Why on earth would you give up now when you've so much more—"

"Edgeworth," Manfred Von Karma entered the office without knocking, "Did you get—ah… Chief Skye, I didn't realize you were in a meeting with Prosecutor Edgeworth."

"No, Mister Von Karma," Lana said and finally took a draught from her tea, "Mister Edgeworth had a private matter he wanted to discuss with me."

"Oh? Edgeworth? What matter is she referring to?"

Edgeworth stiffened in his seat, "Sir, I haven't… It's nothing that… I was going to tell you first but—"

"Stop blubbering like a fool Edgeworth!"

"Sir, I gave her my letter of resignation."

"You what?" Mister Von Karma's surprise faded into a cruel mirth and he chuckled and started to laugh, "Well, it's best to quit while you're ahead."

"No one is quitting," Lana said. She cupped the teacup in one palm and crumpled the letter in her other hand.

"Edgeworth's going to do what Edgeworth wants to do," Von Karma said still laughing.

"Well, I think Edgeworth needs to stay where he is," Lana said and she stood and glared at Mister Von Karma, "Edgeworth, you will not be leaving."

"Yes, Chief," Edgeworth said.

Mister Von Karma was still chuckling, "It's not as if he can do anything else."

Lana looked at Edgeworth he was staring at his hands where he had them laid on the desk.

"It's true," Edgeworth said, "I could serve no other purpose."

"Edgeworth," Von Karma was already walking out of the office, "I need you to have those files on my desk at your earliest convenience."

"Of course, Mister Von Karma," Edgeworth stood and bowed slightly. Lana grimaced and followed the old man out of the room with an angry glare.

When they were alone again, she rounded on the younger man, "Is this something you really want to do?"

She held up the crumpled letter. Again, he hesitated, "No."

"Then it's settled," Lana said, "I don't want to see this kind of stuff out of you again."

"Yes, Chief," Edgeworth said. He offered a hand to take the crumpled letter from her and she handed back both the ball of paper and the teacup.

"Nobody thinks any less of you," Lana said, "Except him, maybe. And nobody really cares what he thinks."

Edgeworth only nodded slightly he was already moving and arranging papers stacked on his desk into neat piles.

"I liked that tea. I've never had tea like that before."

Edgeworth looked up at her, "It's Oolong Tea, The Iron Goddess of Mercy."

Lana thought maybe he smiled at her—just a little.

February 9, 1:17 P.M.

District Court

Courtroom No. 1

"You see, Your Honor," Mister Baffi held up a document, "This affidavit provided here clearly shows that Kurt and Albert Sheinheilig are, in fact, identical twins."

The courtroom erupted in chattering as the defense attorney approached the bench to deliver this new piece of evidence. Edgeworth looked like he was about to leap over the table.

"OBJECTION!" he shouted. His arm extended, index finger thrust menacingly at the defense attorney, "That evidence hasn't been confirmed—it's illegal!"

"Your Honor, the Defense has the right to produce evidence to refute the prosecution's claims."

"Overruled," the Judge said, "What do we have here?"

"Sworn testimony from Test Laboratories' Doctor Hussein Al Reddi. Doctor Al Reddi conducted an independent DNA profile of both brothers."

"The Prosecution would like a chance to further cross examine this witness," Edgeworth said.

"That might be difficult," Mister Baffi said.

"Why is that?" the judge asked.

"He's indisposed at the moment," Mister Baffi said cryptically and then he glanced at his young assistant.

"Ah, your Honor," Gavin said, "Mister Al Reddi died not long after giving this statement."

"Died?" The judge looked shocked.

"Natural causes," Gavin said by way of explanation.

"Hmmm," Edgeworth said arms crossed and head down in frustration, "How convenient."

Gavin met his eye from across the courtroom and smiled as if he'd heard Edgeworth's comment.

"My goodness," the Judge said, "Natural causes! There's so many ways to die!"

Edgeworth glared at him and pointed, "If you're going to allow that testimony, let's have it then!"

Lana elbowed him in the arm.

Edgeworth glared at her and said, "Your honor."

It was mostly technical medical babble describing multiple methods for testing for blood relationships. But the doctor who'd given the statement seemed pretty certain that the Sheinheilig brothers were identical twins. Lana followed as best she could, but she was distracted by Edgeworth's hands. He alternated between pounding the tabletop with his fists and grabbing the edge of it until his knuckles went white.

Finally, she tapped him and he glared at her menacingly.

"What?"

"We need to get Doctor Ennay back on the stand," she said.

He touched his chin, "Hmm… She's the only one qualified to speak on the subject."

Mister Baffi finished reading the affidavit and clutched at the lapels of his jacket and wiggled his jowls in the direction of the prosecutor.

"Your witness, Mister Edgeworth."

"Obviously, Doctor Al Reddi is dead, and you're certainly not qualified to speak on this subject," Edgeworth said arms crossed and finger tapping impatiently.

"Just how are we—I mean the prosecution—going to cross examine?" the Judge said.

Edgeworth smirked at him, "We'd like to call Doctor Ennay to rebut this testimony."

"Oh right," the Judge said, "She can make sense of all this jibber jabber."

"Objection!" Mister Baffi said, "Her testimony is biased."

"Objection! Your geneticist is dead!"

"Somebody has to make sense of this," the judge said, "Overruled! And um, sustained… Doctor Ennay, if you would."

Edgeworth glanced at her and said, "You ought to try this more often."

Lana smiled.

A/N: Thanks for Reading! I don't believe Edgeworth would stick with just one kind of tea.

Lana's POV. I wasn't sure about this, but I hope it worked…

Obviously, I'm not a geneticist, so I don't know how much difference there would be in the DNA of siblings compared to two strangers. (I'll bet 0.11% is huge…)

The Doctor's name is Dee Ennay (I had to put this here because I was so proud of my puniness only to realize, I had no way of putting her whole name in there without needlessly extending the chapter—le sigh)

The first flashback is from approximately two years prior, right after SL-9.

Edgeworth is 24 in the second flashback (they're from about 6 months prior), for anyone who needed clarification, the elder Gavin, Kristoph is in the Phoenix/Edgeworth peer group. He's 22 here.

I also want to say a special thanks Rene Noir, ProbableImpossibilities, and the reviewer known as "Reviewer"… You complete me…

Please review or I'll start giving your names to Shelly Dekiller… You know who you are…

UPDATED 12JUL2015 – Minor edits.