Chapter Sixteen: Doctors and Nurses

"I'm still not testifying." Phil grumped defiantly once the door stopped swinging in the wake of Dr. Bolysm's vacation of the premises in lieu of a manju expedition.

"I didn't expect you to." Edgeworth replied lightly without bothering to look at him. "Believe what you will, but this was not my doing."

"Then why am I here?" demanded Phil.

"Presumably because you are intimidated by your boss to the point of capitulation, I'd wager." Edgeworth disdainfully peered through the windowpane and observed Dr. Bolysm approach De Killer's manju cart with a spring in her aged step; for someone who had just dealt with multiple calamities all piled on top of each other in such a short span of time, she didn't seem any worse for wear.

"Huh." From where he sat in his seat, Phil tilted his head up and scanned Edgeworth beadily from over the top of his hawkish nose. "I didn't know you were a bettin' man. You don't seem like the type who'd let Lady Luck take the wheel."

"That's because I'm not." Edgeworth turned from the window. "However, I know a cowed subordinate when I see one. I'm surrounded by them at my own office on a daily basis."

"Well, well, aren't you the big fish in the mud puddle?" Phil snorted before he itched at his forearm and grimaced.

"I wouldn't go as far as that, but I'm certainly no guppy." Edgeworth commented coldly, but Phil didn't pay his curt aside much attention. Instead of fully appreciating just how delicate the thin ice he was treading upon truly was, the junior doctor stuck a hand into his lab coat pocket, pulled out a bright red box with a garish white cross on the lid, flipped it open, and proceeded to dump the contents onto the side table next to Maya's cot.

"Are those standard issue?" Edgeworth's nose wrinkled as he watched Phil rifle through the mound of medical accoutrements strewn about the table; medical wipes, surgical stitching thread, antiseptic, surgical toolkit, painkiller X, bandages, latex gloves, non-latex gloves, pressure cuff, epinephrine injector, candies, hot compress pads, instruction booklet, stethoscope, more candies, and an unnatural amount of adhesive patches.

"What, the med kits?" Phil picked up one of the adhesive patches and tore off the tab at the top. "Everybody who works in this clinic carries one around. Dr. Bolysm doesn't like it when people aren't prepared for anything short of the apocalypse."

"Is it normal to carry around that many patches?" Edgeworth pointed at the patch in Phil's hand.

"It is for me." Phil rolled up his sleeve, tore the adhesive backing off the patch, stuck it onto his forearm and slumped backwards into his chair. "Ah, that's better."

Edgeworth's eyelids fell to half mast.

"I take it you are attempting to quit smoking?"

"What was your first clue? The nicotine patch or its three friends that I've already got hanging out on my arm as it is?" Phil replied sardonically with a sniff, but as the nicotine began swarming through his system, he started to visibly relax. "And it's not that I'm attempting to quit. I already have, cold turkey. It's just a matter of weening my system off the nicotine at this point. I'm only using four patches a day now."

"Only four?" Edgeworth repeated coolly.

"Don't knock it, Mr. Owl. It used to be seven." scowled Phil. "It's fairly slow going, but I'm making headway little by little. Soon I'll be off this stuff for good. Just give it time."

"Why the sudden change?" asked Edgeworth.

"Eh, I just figured it'll be better for my credibility as a doctor. Nobody's going to listen to a doctor who chain smokes about bettering their health." shrugged Phil. "Among other reasons."

"Did you make the decision to quit recently?"

"I guess. I haven't touched a cig since the first of March. That's when I cut myself off. Figured I'd make a clean break of it, then." Phil's dark eyebrow arched. "Why?"

"No reason in particular. I was simply making idle conversation." said Edgeworth.

"Yeah, I don't believe that for a split damn second." Phil snarked shrewdly from his seat. "You're not the small talk kinda guy."

"Is it that obvious?" Edgeworth inquired mildly.

"You could say that. I've seen dehydrated cacti friendlier than you." Phil itched at the tip of his nose and cast a yellow-eyed askance glance towards Maya who was still out cold on her gurney. "Well, anyway, if you really wanna chat so bad, then enlighten me. What's up with Mystic Maya? She sick?"

"She's been exposed to Super Sneezy Stopper X and has fallen asleep." said Edgeworth. "According to Dr. Bolysm, she should be fine once the effects wear off."

"Huh. No foolin'." Phil thoughtfully itched the tip of his nose again. "That's funny."

"What is?"

"Nothing you'd be interested in." After ushering the contents of his medkit back into the red box, Phil stretched, popped some of his ribs back into place, and hopped back up on his feet. "Speaking of which, I need to get that blood work done so I can ship it off to the lab for analysis." Striding over to the sink unit in the corner of the room, he yanked open a cupboard drawer, washed his hands, pulled on some latex gloves, retrieved a length of rubber cord, several disinfecting wipes, a glass vial and a fresh hypodermic needle from inside the drawer, and approached Ema's bed.

"You might want to look away. Some people faint if they watch." Phil flicked the needle's main body twice to dispel any air pockets, rolled up Ema's sleeve and quickly swabbed her skin with both wipes. He then tied off her bicep, waited patiently until the vein at the crux of her arm was engorged, lightly tapped it twice with his forefinger to test buoyancy, and promptly set about harvesting it.

"You're rather adept at drawing blood." Edgeworth noted from where he stood at the window, not having seen the point in averting his eyes.

Though he had several hangups of his own in terms of what startled him beyond his senses, the sight of blood was not one of them.

"Years of practice." Phil set the now full needle down on the side table and pressed firmly to Ema's arm while holding it aloft to quell any residual bleeding. "I wouldn't be very good at my job if I couldn't do something as simple as taking blood. At this point, it's easier than peeling a banana."

"I see. Given your profession, I suppose that makes sense. Although, one would think taking blood like this would be a task relegated to a nurse instead of a doctor." said Edgeworth. "Is that not the case here?"

"It depends on the quality of the nursing staff." Phil picked up some gauze and a roll of red bandages and began dressing the puncture site on Ema's arm. "If the nurses are great, then yeah, it would be. However, I'm not nearly so lucky, so I do all my own work because I don't like having to do damage control if I can avoid it."

"What about Mercy?"

"Tch, what about her?" Phil bitterly bit his cheek while he finished covering Ema's wound, tore off another piece of bandage, tied it into a little bow and pressed it to the outside of the wrapping. "She's the reason I'm running around constantly having to do everything on my own. She's far more of a hindrance than a help. All she ever does is mess up and whine and not do what she's supposed to, and then she flits off at a moment's notice for whatever stupid reason she's come up with in order to get out of work. Completely useless, if you ask me. Why the head doctor hasn't given her the boot is beyond me. If I were in charge, she'd have been gone years ago."

"Perhaps she elicits some form of pity from Dr. Bolysm." suggested Edgeworth.

"Not likely. There isn't enough pity in the world to excuse that girl's habits." Phil transferred the needle's harvested contents to the small vial and stoppered it shut. "What I wouldn't give to have a good nurse around here. That'd make my life so much easier. The volunteers around here are far more valuable than that lump Mercy's ever been. At least they take instruction without arguing about every stupid little detail and then give me lip when I don't let them walk all over me."

"I wasn't aware Mercy was so disagreeable." said Edgeworth.

"You'd be better off steering clear of her if you can avoid it." Phil spat distastefully like he'd swallowed an unripe lime whole.

"Why's that?"

"She's a fresh pain in the ass, that's why. She never shows up on time, she flits from one thing to the other without finishing anything, she's quick to panic, she's got no discipline, she's a horrible gossip, and to top it off, her ego is so overly inflated, you'd think her head was about to take off like a weather balloon. Other than that, she's great."

"She sounds thoroughly irritating." said Edgeworth. "However, that wasn't the impression I received from Ma- er, Miss Fey about her. She said Mercy was a rather timid sort."

"Honestly, that doesn't shock me much that Mystic Maya'd say that." said Phil. "Mercy's a regular two-faced troll. She'll act shy to one person, then boisterous to another, then a sobbing wreck to a third and so on and so forth. It's all a matter of figuring out just how to push the right buttons on the right people to get what she wants."

"So she's manipulative, then." Edgeworth's forehead furrowed.

"That's putting it lightly. Anybody she thinks she can bend to her will is fair game. She fancies herself something of a femme fatale. It's really annoying."

"I see. Miss Fey also relayed the impression that Mercy was afraid of men. Is that an accurate assessment to you?"

"Mercy? Hah. No way, she's mad about them." Phil barked out a laugh as he put the vial of blood into the courier tray's hatch and shut the lid. "As one of the few men who've been around her for a long stretch of time, I can speak from personal experience. She's absolutely man crazy. Her main problem is there aren't many men around here to choose from. It's pretty slim pickings around here in Kurain, in case you haven't noticed."

"Is she fond of you?" asked Edgeworth.

"Pfft, no. She hates my guts."

"Why is that?"

"I'm onto her, that's why." glowered Phil. "I know what she's doing and she doesn't like it one bit. None of her tricks work on me either, so that's another reason. I'm immune. Actually, speaking of which, that's got me wondering. Has she tried anything on you yet?"

"I'm not entirely certain." said Edgeworth. "Perhaps she has, but, if so, I didn't notice. I'm not the most adept person on that front."

"Then that means 'yes' and that it didn't work." Phil grinned, looking a little too pleased by the news in Edgeworth's opinion. "I bet she tried the old 'hiking up the skirt' routine and if it failed on you, she'll probably have already moved on to someone else by now, like that ginger detective for instance. He seems like an easy enough meal to chew."

"I expect she might already have done so." mused Edgeworth. "She requested he escort her back to the hospital. He wasn't happy to oblige."

"Hah. I knew it. I saw him earlier and was wondering why that guy looked so green in the gills. Poor sod."

"He did say something to that effect earlier." said Edgeworth. "So, to summarize, you and Mercy don't get along."

"Again, that's putting it mildly." sniffed Phil. "She and I get on about as well as strange bulldogs."

"Does that dislike run deep enough to threaten her life?"

"Threaten her life?" Phil blinked. "What do you mean by- Wait, did she she tell you that I threatened her?!"

"Something to that effect." said Edgeworth.

"Tch. It figures, it really frickin' does." Phil yanked off his latex gloves and pitched them into the wastebasket. " Look, I didn't threaten anybody, least of all her. There's no point in threatening anybody who's already that much of a danger to themselves as it is. I just told her to quit running her yap or she'd make everything worse. It's bad enough you're suspecting the one person in this whole town who's incapable of hurting a fly of murder. I didn't need her firing off her interpretation of events so it'll get worse. It's best to quell the embers before it turns into full flung fire, you get me?"

"I do." said Edgeworth.

"Mercy exaggerates when she thinks it'll make the story more interesting and spins it when it suits her. A paper cut will turn into a harrowing escape from a buzz saw and a case of classic Stockholm syndrome will morph into a thrilling love tale, if you can get past the gag reflex, that is. You can't trust anything she says. She's got it all skewed from tip to stern." Phil opened the door leading out into the hall and retrieved the vial of blood from the sample window on the other side. "Now, if you excuse me, I've got a blood sample to run to the labs and it can't wait."

"You're acting as the courier, too?" Edgeworth found himself a touch taken aback; by comparison, this man made him look practically work-shy.

"Like I said, I'm a one-man band." Phil smiled tightly and neatly tucked the sample into the miniature transport carrier pack slung over his shoulder so it was secure in an elastic slot and wouldn't tip over during the journey to the lab. "Give my regards to the master when she wakes up. With all she's been through, she'll need it."

"Very well. Also, if I might put in a request, Dr...?"

"Zysion. And that depends on what it is."

"Dr. Zysion. When the lab results come back in, I would like a copy for my records. It may prove useful."

"Oh… yeah, alright. Sure." Phil sighed so miserably, he resembled a set of dying bagpipes. "I already got told to do as much from Dr. Bolysm if you asked it, so I guess I don't have a choice, but to hand them over. She runs the show around here, not me, not that I forgot that fun fact or anything. You want the other lab results too, I take it?"

"Yes, if you would be so obliging." nodded Edgeworth, though what the other results were, he wasn't entirely sure.

"… Okay, fine. I'll have them brought back here when the tests are concluded." said Phil. "Anything else while I'm at it, or can I go? As much as people like to think otherwise, this sticky stuff's got a limited freshness window when it's at room temperature."

"Actually… yes. There is one more thing." Edgeworth returned to his place near the window sill and pensively stared up at the murky night sky beyond the glass. "Dr. Zysion, are you absolutely certain that you won't testify about what you know in regards to the incidents? This is your last chance to speak to me privately about what you saw, because from here on out, whatever comes next will be in the public eye."

Phil threw back his head and laughed, but his laughter was cheerless and cold.

"I already told you before, Mr. Edgeworth. I've got nothing to say to you or anybody else about that night. Throw the book at me, I don't care. At this stage in my life, I've gone through more hell than you can possibly dish out at me. You don't scare me, not by a clean mile, so if you were trying to intimidate me into spilling my guts or whatever by threatening me with legal action, you picked the wrong guy. Therefore, you can take that neat little line of inquiry and shove it. I'm not talking."

"I see." Edgeworth sighed, removed his glasses, took out his handkerchief and began to clean the lenses. "Then, on your own head be it."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Phil slouched against the doorframe, his arms challengingly folded against his broad chest.

"Exactly as it sounds." said Edgeworth as he replaced his glasses upon his nose. "You've been given plenty opportunities to speak, but if you still refuse after this long, there's nothing more to be done. You've made your choice. However, when everything comes out, and it will, make no mistake of that, don't say you weren't warned. That is all."

"Pfft. Oh, yeah, right." Phil snorted derisively. "Like you actually know anything, anyway."

Edgeworth simply offered him a small smile, but it was chilly and did not reach his eyes.

Phil's yellow irises dilated.

"Y-you… you don't know anything." He growled, but the rattle in his throat nearly choked him off. "You can't possibly know. You're just trying to trip me up so I say something. You're just bluffing."

"You are free to think that, but as I said before, I am not a betting man." said Edgeworth phlegmatically. "Do not mistake me for a defense lawyer, Dr. Zysion. I am a prosecutor. I do not bluff. I only put stakes down when I know I am sure to win. Oh, and in the future, it would do you well to cease your habit of listening in on private conversations that don't involve you, especially those pertaining to murder investigations. It's bad form."

Phil flushed angrily and promptly left the surgery.

"Mr. Edgeworth...?" The door to the surgery knocked twice and a shock of scarlet hair poked through the door. "Are ya in here, sir? I went back to your office after I ditc- I mean, saw Miss Mercy back to where she wanted to go, but you weren't there, so I went lookin' for ya and- Oh, am I interrupting somethin'?"

"Not as such." Edgeworth looked up from the two notebooks he'd been comparing and beckoned Time inside with a flick of the wrist. "What is it, Time? Anything to report about our mystery man?"

"Not as much as I'd like." Time came into the surgery and the doors swung shut behind him. "I thought I spotted a suspicious guy for a minute there, but turns out it was just that creepy manju salesman again. Suspicious, but not who I was lookin' for. Speakin' of which, did you know he's parked out in front of the hospital?"

"Yes, I am aware of that." said Edgeworth curtly.

"That guy sure gets around, huh?" Time ran a hand through his hair and mussed it a little. "I coulda sworn I saw him in the main manor place, but here he is here. Manju must be popular with the Feys or somethin'. I haven't seen him without a customer, not even once. Weird, right? It can't be that good."

"Hmph." murmured Edgeworth.

"By the way, here's the cargo manifesto thingy you wanted. Dunno why, but it's not my place to ask questions like that, so I didn't bother snoopin'." Time produced a document and handed it to Edgeworth. "I thought Detective Skye'd have been the one to deliver it to ya, but according to the policeman who gave this to me, she's gone AWOL and she wasn't on her bench, so I- oh. There she is. She sick?"

"No, no. She's just exhausted." Edgeworth set down a paper entitled 'Ema Skye- lab results' and let his shoulders uncoil. "She'll be fine with some rest. However, the next time you see her camped out on a bench, don't just leave her there."

"Yessir, I won't." Time paused a minute to readjust his tie and he tried to look casual, but all he did was come off as antsy. "Um... excuse me for askin' and all, but do you mind if I ask you somethin'?"

"It depends." said Edgeworth.

"Do you, um... do you have any idea who the culprit is yet? I mean, I don't want to rush anybody and I know it's a murder investigation and all, so you can't just tell me all the nitty gritty details because I'm not part of the actual investigation, but-"

"All in good time, Detective." Edgeworth set down his notes, laced his fingers together and rested his chin on them. "It's not as simple as you might like it to be. All the pieces must be put together in order to ascertain the truth of this case."

"Do you have all the pieces, then?" Time asked hopefully.

"I cannot say for sure." Edgeworth closed his eyes. "One false assumption or logical misstep can derail everything, so until I have all the pieces, it's a broken mosaic at best."

"Yeah, I guess." Time drooped disappointedly. "I suppose this case is fairly complicated any which way you look at it. I, for one, can't wrap my head around it one way or the other."

"Oh?" Edgeworth cracked an eye open.

"Yessir. I mean, think about it. Why did they even happen in the first place?" Time continued. "These deaths just don't make any sense to me."

"Explain."

"Huh? Oh, er... okay. Well, the way I see it, I don't get why anyone would ever want to kill either of the victims. The victims in this case were a blind old lady and my sister, right? Means can be improvised and opportunity, yeah, I can see there probably was one, but what was the motive? That's what I can't quite figure. What's the point in killing a blind old lady? Who got anything out of killing a simple train attendant? Sure, we could say that maybe the old lady knew something, or maybe she was just at the wrong place at the wrong time, but who in their right mind'd want to kill Milly? She never did wrong by anybody and she was always such a nice girl. She didn't have any enemies to speak of, and wouldn't say boo to a goose. So, why did she die?"

"You're speaking from a biased perspective, Detective." said Edgeworth. "Your rendition of your sister's character also seems oddly positive for a sibling. You should know her flaws along with her strengths, yet you do not speak of them. Surely you and she must've butted heads over the years."

"Do you have a little sister, sir?" Time asked suddenly.

Edgeworth considered the question for a minute.

"… I suppose you could say that."

"Oh. Well..." Time swallowed hard and combed a hand through his ginger hair again. "I guess I don't want to bring up her bad bits because she's... well, she's gone. It's never a good idea to speak ill of the dead. You never know when they just might come back to haunt ya. However, just because she was overly trusting and never met a stranger, didn't mean anybody had a reason to kill her. I'd stick by that even if she'd just smacked me in the face with a tree limb, and, believe you me, that happened a couple times."

"Or a whip..."

"Sir?"

"Nothing. Just talking to myself." Edgeworth cleared his throat. "Anyway, your input is duly noted. Now then, if you would continue your search for the man with the face like a rat, I would appreciate it."

"... right, sir." Time took that as a call for dismissal and sighed forlornly. "I'll go check around the train station. Maybe he's wormed his way out there."

"Good." Edgeworth picked up one of the notebooks he'd abandoned and began to read it once more in search of any details he had previously missed. "Also, on your way out, please lock the door behind you. I need some time to think undisturbed."

Nodding glumly, Time strode to the door, gripped the knob, paused, bent down and stared at it.

"Is there a problem, Detective?" Edgeworth inquired placidly from over the top of his glasses.

"Kinda, sir." Time looked up from the doorknob. "There isn't a lock on this door."

(A/N- Well, well, looks like things are starting to pick up a bit more. And yet, there is so much more I have to do before pulling all the threads together into a solution remotely coherent. I swear, I write a chapter and two more spring up before me. However, I am not daunted and I will press onwards, even if I pull another muscle in the process.

Anyway, I hope everyone out there is doing alright amidst the recent unpleasantness. I'm okay, I think. The days are starting to bleed together, I keep forgetting why I walk into rooms and I'm zoning out all the time, but I think that's part and parcel from being in quarantine for this long, so yeah. That's been a thing. Not a pleasant thing, but a thing.

Oh, and to answer the question one of the reviewers asked me, this story takes place post ace attorney, as in, all of the ace attorney games.

This story is post.

Very post.

So post, in fact, all the characters are now legally adults, Apollo's had his entire arc completed and has ventured onwards to better pastures as his own lawyery man person, instead of playing second fiddle all the time to Phoenix at his firm- mostly relegated to scrubbing toilets and indulging Trucy's insanity- Maya's in her late twenties and in charge of her whole town as a responsible adult (I know) and Pearl has graduated high school and is old enough to vote, ie, 18 years of age. So, if any of you haven't played through any of the previous ace attorney games, I implore you. Stop reading this story right now and go do that before you read onwards. I'm going to add in gratuitous spoilers for all those games throughout this series, including the Ace Attorney investigation games, and I don't want my work to compromise the original experience, as it should be experienced blind. So, if you aren't totally okay with being spoiled beyond belief, I recommend holding off reading my work until you're satisfied with what the original content has to offer.

At any rate, thank you to everyone who read, favorited, alerted, and commented and please review!)