Note: Phoenix Wright / Gyakuten Saiban, its settings, plot points, and characters, are all the property of Capcom, and are being used here without permission. This chapter takes place during the evening after the end of GS1-2; Spoilers for that case and references to others, most definitely.

Episode II: A Toast to the Sisters

Part 7/7: Beyond Blue(Corp)

September 9th, 2016, 6:18 PM

"Okay, Jack... let me make sure I got this all straight." Donny Docket's eyes were wide; he paid little attention to the empty beer mug before him as he tried to mull things over. "So, yesterday, that Redd White guy, the same person that confessed to Ms. Mia's murder this afternoon, came here?"

"Yes," said Jack, frowning slightly.

"And he pretty much told you that he'd been the real killer guy, even though the trial wasn't finished?"

"Yep. He was a real jerk about it, too," Jack said tersely.

"And then he told you that he already had the entire trial under his control?"

"Yes."

Donny furiously scratched at the back of his head in an attempt to keep thinking. "And then he threatened you... said he was going to ruin you, me, and... and L-l-the Chief if you tried to talk?"

"That's right."

"And he used that stupid old blog I kept back in High School to help shut you up?"

Jack sighed. "Yes, though I'm sure he would have had something else had he needed it."

"And that's when he burned your hand?"

"Yes. Until then, I never knew they made cigars that wide..."

Donny ignored Jack's attempt at dark humor. "And then he put the entire end of the trial on TV, just to make sure you wouldn't screw with his plan?"

"That's what he hoped, anyway."

"And then that Mr. Wright guy completely screwed up his plan instead... and that's why he confessed?"

Jack smiled. "I believe so."

Donny blinked once, twice, and slammed his hand against the table with as much force as he could muster. "Damn it all to hell!" he shouted, before shaking his head and adding, "And get me another beer, please. I... I still can't quite take it all in."

Jack tried not to laugh at his friend's reaction. "Its okay, Don. When I told you it was a long story, I hadn't been kidding." Absently, he grabbed a mug out from under the counter and put it under the proper beer tap.

"Damn straight you hadn't," muttered Donny. He shook his head again and frowned. "I guess I can sort of get why you are acting all weird during my lunch break... you weren't sure what was going to happen and all... but it was still really creepy!"

Jack sighed. "I'm really sorry I acted like that." Silently, he sat Donny's drink in front of him.

Donny ignored the beer and waved a dismissive hand. "It's all right," he said. "It's just..."

Jack crossed his arms. "Just what?"

"Well, when you were putting on that ice cube act today... did you notice that you were acting exactly like L-l-"

Jack frowned. "Like Lana?"

Donny snapped his fingers. "Yeah, just like her!" he exclaimed brightly. "That's what got me more than anything... one old friend going nasty's more than enough." He sighed and sipped his drink before appearing wistful once again. "Hey, do you think that...?"

"Think what?" asked Jack, mildly annoyed by Donny's constant trailing off.

"If you were giving me that cold and spacey treatment because White was messing with you, do you think that... the Chief has been giving usthe cold and spacey treatment because White was messing with her?Maybe she's been keeping away from us to protect us... you know, that whole storybook-hero type thing!"

Jack's eyes widened in surprise as he considered the possibility. "You know, Donny, that might just be true!" In spite of himself, he started to feel mildly hopeful.

Donny's face broke into a wide smile. "Damn straight, Jack! Why don't we try giving her a call; we can see if she treats us like she did in the old days!"

Jack thought about it for a moment before frowning and shaking his head. "It's not that easy, Don," he said with a sigh. "She hasn't acted pleasant towards us since she got promoted to the Chief's office... asking her if she's been catering to the whims of a murderer for a year and a half is not the best way to break such a silence."

Donny's face fell. "But...?"

"Tell you what, Don," said Jack, rubbing at the center of his forehead. "You're in that little guard station of yours seven or eight hours a day, are you not? Keep an eye out for her and see if you can get her to talk to you... if White's the reason she turned sour on us, you should be able to figure it out." Looking downward, he added, "Of course, if things really work out well, she'll come to us in order to apologize... she started the rift, after all."

The bar fell into silence as Donny merely nodded and sipped at his beer. Jack placed the other mug in the sink and managed to get it halfway washed before the sound of the door chime forced him to turn around once again.

Upon looking across the room, Jack held back a chuckle; of all the mismatched duos he'd even seen enter his bar, Winston Payne and Robert Hammond had to be one of the most uneven. Even before they'd made it to the bar counter, he could see that their moods were exact opposites: Payne was wearing a smarmy grin whilst Hammond's expression was even grumpier than what was normal for him.

Before Jack could say a word, Donny wheeled around on his barstool and exclaimed, "Hey, Mr. H; Mr. P! Have a seat, guys! Relax! Make yourselves at home!"

Payne took a step backwards in surprise before letting out a squeaky chuckle. "You do know how to greet people with enthusiasm, don't you, Mr. Docket?" He tapped his hand to his forehead once before settling on the barstool to Donny's right.

Hammond, of course, was not quite as pleased. "A real charmer," he muttered sarcastically. He let out a tortured sigh before taking a seat two spots away from Payne.

"Don't mind Donny; he forgot to put his head on straight this morning," Jack said with a wry grin. "Now what I get you two?"

"Whiskey," Hammond said tersely. "Make it a double, and don't bother trying to serve it all fancy."

Jack nodded. "And you, Mr. Payne?"

"My usual, please!" Payne chimed eagerly. "Today is a good day for celebration, after all!"

"You know, Mr. Payne, I don't disagree with that statement one bit. Now, if you'll give me but a moment..." Jack turned and headed for the liquor shelves first; Hammond's request was definitely the easier to fulfill.

While Jack grabbed one of the finer whiskey bottles and searched for a tall shot glass, Donny said, "Well, I guess you two have heard about today's big legal news, then."

Payne let out a somewhat girly-sounding laugh. "You're quite right, Mr. Docket! I know I'm a prosecutor, but I'm happy to see that Redd White man get thrown in jail all the same!"

"Really?" Donny asked incredulously. "Well, I guess I'm glad-"

"-I mean, even I could see that something was wrong when they let the Fey-girl go and tried to put pink-shirt in jail again!" Payne ranted, oblivious to the fact that Donny had tried to speak again. "Heaven forbid I try to like that guy, but the way they tried to switch everything around without extra evidence was crazy!" He let out a little huff of annoyance. "Besides, if anyone's going to put that puffed-up porcupine in prison, it's going to be me!"

"And I'm sure a man of your... stature will succeed where the once-perfect Miles Edgeworth has failed," Hammond sneered, before slamming a fist against the counter with a bang. "Is my drink done yet, Keeper?!"he bellowed.

"Give it one more moment, please," Jack muttered, trying to keep his teeth from grinding at his customer's impatience. He held Hammond's drink to his eye for one last inspection before declaring it done. "Double whiskey, no frills," he said dully as he placed it on the counter.

"About time." Hammond didn't even bother to look at his drink before he took it to his lips and drained nearly half the contents. His face contorted for just a moment before he appraised it with a dull, "It's good. Carry on."

As Jack started getting to work on one of Payne's beloved Shirley Temples, Donny decided to make another attempt at conversation. "So, how do you feel about that Wright guy getting a not guilty verdict, Mr. Hammond? You're a fellow defense attorney, after all."

A moment passed before Jack heard the distinctive noise of a shot glass being slammed against the bar counter. "I'm damn pissed off, if you must know!" Hammond bellowed gruffly. "You can't even beginto imagine how far this... development has set me back!"

Jack frowned; from the way Hammond was speaking, it sounded as though he'd been an accomplice to White's many crimes. "Maybe if you explain yourself better, we'll understand," he said, turning away from Payne's drink so that he could look directly at Hammond's face.

For what it was worth, Hammond didn't flinch in the slightest. "It's quite simple, Mr. Keeper." Waving a weary hand through the air, he continued, "For the past ten years or so, Mr. White has hired me to defend many of his company's various workers. Though I tried on many occasions to get him to pay me solely in cash, he always insisted on paying at least a part of my fee in shares of his company instead. If I recall my latest financial statements, that damn Bluecorp stock counted for nearly thirty percent of my net worth! Of course, now that the President's about to land himself in prison, I doubt that that will be true anymore."

Jack merely frowned again before returning to Payne's drink in silence. Hammond never was the type of attorney that cared about the innocence of his clients, he thought grimly. Who knows how many opportunities to bring down the company were thwarted because of his skills...

Donny seemed to be thinking along similar lines. "Well, you reap what you sow, I guess," he said with an awkward chuckle.

Jack could only nod in agreement as he dropped two maraschino cherries into Payne's drink and declared the Shirley Temple done. Still mulling over what Hammond had said, he gently sat it on the bar counter without a single word.

"Oh, Mr. Keeper, before I forget, I have something to tell you..." With one hand, Hammond motioned for Jack to get closer.

I wonder what this is about... After briefly making sure that Payne was happy with his drink, he moved to face Hammond and leaned forward on the bar so that their faces were only about a foot apart.

After a satisfied smirk, Hammond stated, "I received a visit from that eyesore of an attorney Upton Washer this afternoon."

Jack nodded, his expression darkening a bit as he remembered the accursed customers Washer had brought in the night before. "I'm surprised Washer visited you," he muttered finally. "He doesn't seem to be your biggest fan."

Hammond grimaced. "Indeed, that is quite true, but... my office is only two blocks away from his, and he must have wanted to find the closest sympathetic ear he could. He was in quite a state of shock when he barged in my office... his tie was on crooked, his hair was greased the wrong way... shedding tears faster then he could spout synonyms, if you can believe it." He let out a light chuckle. "To say I was not pleased to see him would be an understatement."

Jack smirked as he tried to picture just how displeased Hammond would have truly been. "Believe me, Mr. Hammond; I'm rather relieved that he ran to you and not me instead. But why are you telling me this?"

Hammond frowned. "After he'd blubbered all over my fine carpeting, Washer told me to give you a message."

Jack placed his injured hand against his chest in surprise. "Give me a message?"

"Indeed, give you a message!" Hammond snapped impatiently. Taking a deep breath, he continued, "He told me to tell you, and I quote, 'I'm sorry about Niño.'" Hammond sniffed at the air. "Exactly what that statement is supposed to mean, I do not know."

Jack shot Hammond a skeptical glare; he'd been defending Bluecorp employees for ten years and he didn't know the president's nickname? Of course, White was most definitely as slippery as they come, he thought. He could have given different nicknames to different "friends", for all I know. He sighed. As for Washer...

"Well?" asked Hammond. "Aren't you going to tell me what it means? At the very least, I need a response so that I can get weepy Washrag off my back..."

Jack let out a hissing breath as he came to a decision. "The next time you run into Washer, tell him to come here. I'll only accept his apology if he has the integrity to give it to my face."

Hammond considered that for a moment before slowly nodding. "I'll make sure to tell him the first opportunity I get," he said gruffly. "The way he was acting earlier, I don't know if he has the bal- er, the 'integrity' to do such a thing but... at least it'll get him to leave me alone." He smiled for just a moment before returning to his usual gloomy expression. "Now then, I must see just how much damage these developments have done to me. Turn on the financial channel, and get me more whiskey. I'm going to need it."

"If you say so." After a brief pause to make sure Donny and Payne were still all right, Jack turned on the TV and, after a few seconds of frantic flipping, managed to find the city's financial network. Curious, he started making Hammond's drink in such a way that he could watch the screen at the same time.

"...with each passing minute, we are receiving word of more and more ramifications in regards to Bluecorp President and CEO Redd White's confessing to intentional murder," stated a young newswoman with heavily tanned skin and frizzy white hair. "The latest of these many stories is that the State Government has confirmed the formation of yet another centralized investigation, this one searching for information that Bluecorp may possess in regards to the tragic suicide death of Congressman Richard Richardson. As for the bottom line, although Mr. White's confession occurred less than two hours before trading closed for the day, the ensuing avalanche of bad new has caused the stock value to tumble an unprecedented eighty-seven percent. And, considering the rate at which this negative press is accelerating, it's highly probable that there won't even be any value to trade when the market reopens on Monday..."

Hammond let out a wounded moan. "Ugh, change the channel, change the channel! And where's my whiskey?!"

"Right here," said Jack, placing the new glass before him.

"Good," was Hammond's only reply before he downed over half the contents. "You might as well get me a third one now; I'm going to need it too."

Jack merely shook his head before approaching Donny and Payne. "Do either of you want anything else? You'd better tell me now, before Hammond drags me away again."

"Nothing right now," said Payne, pointing to his half-filled glass.

Donny stuck out a thumb and turned it downward. "Nah." He then glanced to the left; a thoughtful look crossing his face. "Unless you want to tell me what Mr. H's being all hush-hush with you about, of course."

Jack shrugged. "He was just giving me more complaints; that's all. It hasn't really been his day." He shot Donny a wry smile before turning about and using his good left hand to pick up the television remote and press two buttons. "He also told me to change the channel. Hopefully the regular news will keep him quiet."

Returning his attention to the TV screen, Jack was met with the sight of legal-correspondent Bill Grantor; his bearded face was even more tired looking than usual.

It's too late for this to be his show... the network's probably been making him spout information ever since the trial ended, Jack thought levelly.

"...the final blows, of course, did not occur until the end of the trial, after Mr. Wright's return to consciousness," Grantor stated, his voice slow and heavy. "For you see, Mr. Wright used a department store receipt, which he had located on the other side of an irrelevant piece of evidence, to prove that Mr. White could not, in fact, have seen the glass light stand when he allegedly wiretapped the Fey and Co. Law offices. After this contradiction was pointed out, the only conclusion that remained was that White had seen it after it was purchaced on the morning of Ms. Fey's murder. With that, it became rather obvious that White must have been at the crime scene during the time of the murder, and not only when he was supposedly placing a wiretap the week before."

"Man, Bill's being even more long-winded than usual," Donny said mockingly. "Did you get any of that, Jack?"

"A bit," Jack replied, smiling. So that's why the light stand was so damn important. A rather odd way to bring about the fall of a conspiracy, that's for damn sure.

"This was not the end of the story, however, as Mr. Edgeworth objected to Wright's conclusions and asked the Judge to delay the verdict for another day of investigation, citing nothing more than a lack of definitive proof in the defendant's innocence. In hindsight, such a move seems to be rather cold and callous, but we are talking about the demon prosecutor, after all." Grantor chuckled wryly.

Upon hearing Donny let out a strangled noise, Jack turned his attention way from the TV. I guess he didn't expect Edgeworth to be capable of such a move, he thought, casting a wary gaze over his friend's open-mouthed expression.

Before he could say a word about it, however, Hammond slammed another fist against the bar counter. "Turn off this junk too, Keeper!" he yelled. "I can't stand to hear another word about that miserable excuse for a trial!"

Jack clenched his teeth in annoyance, but did as he was told. Hopefully, Hammond will calm down a bit once all that whiskey gets through his system... he thought solemnly. I think my poor counter's had enough punishment for one day.

The momentary silence was broken when Donny made another noise, this time one of awe. "Damn..." he muttered. "I didn't realize Edgeworth fought so hard once everyone knew that White jerk was guilty... I don't think I feel so sorry for him losing any more."

"A good prosecutor fights to the end," recited Payne, absently swirling his drink with his finger. "Of course, that might be a bit beyond the end... even baseless conjecture has its limits." He laughed airily.

"When he made that argument, it was already the end," Jack said wearily. "By that time, he was just trying to save his verdict, what with his dismissing all the arguments and whining for more time." Absently, he added, "I wonder if he's going to show up anytime tonight... I don't see why he wouldn't, unless he wants to avoid me or something."

Donny's eyebrows drew together in thought. "Well, Mr. E does seem to be the avoiding type... but this is a really bad thing that happened! From his perspective, anyway." He tilted his head and shrugged. "I'm not sure." He turned on his barstool so that he was facing Payne. "What do you think, Mr. P?"

Payne frowned. "I am not an expert on Mr. Edgeworth's behavior." He plucked a cherry out of his drink and popped it in his mouth. "When he shows up, he shows up."

Donny frowned before leaning forward so that he could see beyond Payne's meager frame. "Hey, Mr. H! Do you think Mr. E's going to show up? He hasn't been in here for a while!"

Hammond's face went from its usual scowl to one of alarm. "Blast," he muttered. "I needed to drink so badly, I forgot to consider that!" Oddly enough, his voice was much higher-pitched than usual.

"Hey, what's with you, Mr. H? You stopped grumping... and your eyes are really big!" Obviously, Donny too noticed the difference in Hammond's demeanor.

Hammond coughed and turned to his third drink, which still sat completely filled on the counter before him. "Well, Mr. Docket, it's just that... well... oh, it does not matter." He cast his gaze about the room before focusing on Payne. "So, um, Mr. Prosecutor," he said jerkily. "How well have you fared with your caseload this past week?"

Payne, as usual, appeared shocked at the fact that one of the other customers was speaking to him. "Oh, uh, well... I had a decent victory on Monday, and then I was handling guilty pleas on Tuesday..."

Jack frowned at the doubly awkward conversation. Even after two double whiskeys, Hammond's not the type of person to stammer or make small talk... What's going on here?

He wondered whether he should see what Donny's thoughts were, but the door chime cut his musing short. He raised his eyebrows in mild surprise as he watched Miles Edgeworth and Dick Gumshoe wearily make their way through the bar door. Speak of the devil, he thought.

Upon hearing the chime, Donny had stopped staring at Hammond's awkwardness and spun around to face the new patrons. "Well, will you look at that! Mr. E, 'Tective G, over here!"

Hammond let out a short gasp; his face was now forced into an expression of outright panic. Jumping shakily to his feet, he turned to Jack and stammered, "P-put it on my tab."

In lieu of words, Jack pointed to Hammond's completely full glass of whiskey and shot him a suspicious glare.

Hammond rapidly shook his head. "It... it doesn't matter. Just do it!" Breathing heavily, he squared his shoulders and made his way to the door, detouring around the pool table so that he never came within ten feet of Gumshoe and Edgeworth.

Jack, Donny, and Payne stared at Hammond's strange exit, however; neither Edgeworth nor Gumshoe seemed to notice. After a quick glance at the other customers, Edgeworth settled next to Hammond's old spot whilst Gumshoe filled the space between Edgeworth and Payne.

Before Jack could think of just how to properly greet his newest customers under such circumstances, Edgeworth broke the silence with three sharply spoken words: "Whiskey. Now. Please." He pointed his left hand at the liquor shelves commandingly.

Looks like callous men drink alike, Jack thought grimly. Turning towards Gumshoe, he added a formal, "And you, detective?"

"Just a beer, pal," Gumshoe said with a sigh. "Even if I had money for something better, I wouldn't really feel like using it."

"As you wish." Jack grabbed a mug and fulfilled Gumshoe's request first; it both quicker to carry out and made by the person he wasn't currently upset with. Only after handing Gumshoe his mug with the briefest of smiles did he reopen Hammond's whiskey bottle and slowly fill a shot glass with the amber-brown liquid.

Of course, Jack thought, I could just give him Hammond's unused glass, but he asked for a single, not a double. Besides, I don't want to confuse him... he needs to know what's going on, first.

Shaking his head, Jack sat the shot glass in front of Edgeworth with a dull 'clunk'. "Your whiskey, Prosecutor," he stated flatly.

Edgeworth looked at Jack's blank expression and let out an exaggerated sigh. "Honestly, Mr. Keeper, must you be so immature?" he asked sharply. "This has been quite a tiring day for me, and I don't need you to start acting all upset as well."

"Exactly what do you mean by 'as well', Mr. E?" asked Donny, who was leaning heavily forward so that he too could hear the conversation.

"When we left Mr. Edgeworth's office, we ran right into Mr. von Karma, pal," Gumshoe said slowly. "Well, not literally 'into' him, but he was so close to the door that we could have had we been in a hurry!" After a weak chuckle, Gumshoe added, "He must have been standing there for a while, just waiting for us to show up."

I guess Edgeworth's defeat made von Karma change his evening plans, Jack thought absently. "And why, Detective Gumshoe, does that have anything to do with my supposedly cold behavior?" Jack looked at Gumshoe with a neutral expression; he didn't want the man to realize that he already knew the answer.

Oblivious to the nasty stare Edgeworth was giving him, Gumshoe continued, "Well, he said some things about 'the von Karma name', and the 'way of a prosecutor', and 'imperfection' and stuff... And as he talked, he kept using more and more big words and getting louder and louder... before today, I didn't know a voice so low could make my ears ring so much, pals!"

"You sure aren't joking about that, detective!" chimed Payne. "I don't know how anyone can stand a man with a growl of a voice like that. I was observing one of his trials just last month, and I couldn't help but jump every time he countered the defense's argument." To further his point, he took in a great gasp of air and shouted,"Objection!" in a very crude imitation of von Karma's voice.

Jack winced and covered his ears. Dear God, he sounds like that dog from the old mystery cartoons, he thought. He then glanced at Edgeworth, who was currently shooting Payne a look of absolute loathing, and shook his head. I'm getting off track here.

Leaning close to Edgeworth, he stated, "Your observation is correct, Prosecutor: I am upset with you. Of course, if you can remember a single damn thing about me and this case, you'll be well aware that the reasons for my disappointment are opposite those of Mr. von Karma."

Edgeworth shrugged. "Well, I would presume that to be obvious; you and he possess considerably different personalities." He paused, grabbed his shot, brought it to his lips, and downed it with a flip of the wrist. Waving his left arm around airily, he continued, "In that vein, however, I fail to see why you would be upset with me to begin with. After all, I dropped the murder charges against Maya Fey... was that not the result you'd been hoping for?"

Jack's eyes narrowed in anger upon hearing Edgeworth's sweeping statement. No longer willing to keep his voice level, he smacked his hand against the bar and sputtered, "Do you really take me for a fool, Mr. Edgeworth?! Maya Fey's arrest may not have made much sense, but Mr. Wright's arrest made even less sense! You were prosecuting a different man for the same crime with no new evidence! It didn't even add up!"

For a brief moment, Edgeworth looked taken aback at Jack's sudden outrage. Schooling his features back into a relative calm, he stated, "I will admit, Mr. Keeper, that there was no new evidence to bring about that development in the case. At the time, however, the testimony of the new witness had been enough to bring about the new charges. You don't understand-"

"-You're damn right, I don't understand!" yelled Jack, resisting the urge to take a leaf from Mia's book and slap Edgeworth across the face. "I don't understand how a star prosecutor such as you could have done so much as talk to Redd White for ten minutes without figuring out he was guilty! It was damn obvious!"

"Hey! Don't talk to Mr. Edgeworth like that!" bellowed Gumshoe, his face the epitome of irritation. "He's been cleaning up this city for four years now, and this is the first mistake he's ever made! And... And..." his eyebrows contorted as he struggled to find the right words, "And just what makes you think that Mr. White's guilt was so obvious, anyway?!"

Jack nearly smiled; Gumshoe had managed to ask him just the right question. Deciding it'd be best to let Edgeworth find the answer himself, he leaned against the bar and, in an even voice, said, "Answer me this, Mr. Edgeworth. Did you speak privately with Mr. White anytime before the trial this morning?"

Edgeworth looked insulted. "He was my witness, Mr. Keeper. Of course I spoke with him!"

Jack nodded sagely. "Good, that'll make the next question easier." After a brief pause, he continued, "While I understand that you try to keep pre-trial conversations professional, Mr. Edgeworth, was there any chance that Mr. White made small talk with you as well? Did he tell you what he did last night, for example?"

Edgeworth harrumphed. "I tried to keep things focused on his testimony, but Mr. White did have a habit of buffeting me with information that had nothing to do with the trial." Absently, he tapped a finger to his left temple. "In fact, he did seem to be in a fairly good mood regarding his previous night's activities... though he wouldn't say much more than the fact that he had a 'splendiferous time at a cozy little drink-warehouse', whatever that is. Sounds like he was at a beer distributor, but those aren't small or cozy, so I guess that was his way of saying that he was at a small bar, probably hidden away... somewhere..." He trailed off and his eyes grew wide as he realized the significance of what he was saying. "Wait a second," he stated weakly. "Did he come-"

"Here? Why yes, he most certainly did!" exclaimed Jack, nodding with sarcastic vigor. "Said he wanted to take a look at the place; spend some time with his lawyer friends. He and I had a long chat, we did!" He let out a manic laugh, and then his face became stonily serious. "And, lawyer though I may be not, it was pretty obvious that he was the one that did Ms. Fey in. Even from the very beginning, that man oozed guilt from every glittery pore."

Edgeworth appeared mildly troubled, but he quickly managed to pull himself together. "I hate to sound so dismissive, Mr. Keeper, but your accusations would have, before the trial, been considered nothing more than mindless hearsay."

Jack smirked. "You mean, just as Mr. White's version of the events had been proven to be mindless hearsay?"

Edgeworth winced and leaned backwards. "Unfortunately, yes. But his version of the events was, in the beginning, reasonably plausible."

Jack frowned and shook his head. "The only reason the legal system believed White's story was because none of the officials had the courage to pick it apart," he said tersely. "In fact, only two people grilled him hard enough to uncover some semblance of the truth."

Edgeworth shot Jack a look of confusion. "Two people? You just told me that I came nowhere close to Wright in questioning White's true motives. Have you already changed your-"

"No, I haven't changed my mind!" Jack snapped angrily. He calmed himself a bit before adding, "As I was saying, there were only two people that managed to get White to cough up the truth about Ms. Fey's murder. Obviously, the first was Mr. Wright." He paused to take a steeling breath. "As for the second, that was... uh, me."

Jack was not surprised when Edgeworth's mouth dropped open in shock; after all, to an outsider such a revelation sounded rather surreal.

What he had not expected, however, was Gumshoe's reaction. "What do you mean, you?!" he barked, his eyebrows narrowed in surprised anger. "You aren't a detective! You aren't carrying a police badge, pal! Heck, you don't even have one of those silly circle badges, like that sneaky lawyer! How could you have possibly gotten that guy to say he was a... a... murderer! And... And... And if you did, how come you didn't try to speak up about it!"

Edgeworth appeared to be mildly impressed. "Loathe as I am to admit it, bearing witness to an admittance of guilt would have been a bit more credible than a circumstantial hunch, Mr. Keeper," he stated quietly. "If you were truly able to get such a thing, I'm rather astonished that you wouldn't have tried to spread the word. Why didn't you?"

"It's a long story," Donny interjected, the ghost of a smile on his face. Getting to his feet, he added, "Why don't you let me get a bit closer, Mr. E, so I can help Jack tell you a tale."

"I can hear you just fine from where you're at, Mr. Docket," Edgeworth said plainly. "Do you really need to come any closer?"

"Sure I do!" exclaimed Donny. Quickly, he walked the length of the bar, eyed the empty barstool on Edgeworth's right, and plopped down on it with a thump. "After all," he added grimly, "You need to hear anything I have to say a lot more than Mr. P does. Isn't that right, Mr. P?" The last sentence was given in a needlessly loud yell.

Characteristically, Payne looked startled at suddenly being singled out. "Uh, sure, t-that's right..." he stammered. "C-crazy stories tend to give me nothing but headaches anyway." He tapped his head once to emphasize his point. "Can I have some diet cola please, Jack? I'll probably need it to soothe my nerves..."

"Of course, Mr. Payne," Jack said pleasantly. As he rummaged through the refrigerator for the aforementioned drink, he added, "After all, nothing soothes the nerves like a healthy dose of caffeine." Sadly, no one else noticed the sarcasm.

"Get me another whiskey when you're finished, Jack," Edgeworth said abruptly. "I have the distinct feeling that I'm going to be in need of it soon..."

Jack nodded; for once that day, Edgeworth was on the right track. I wonder how I should handle this? he asked himself, paying little attention to the cola he was pouring.The fact that he started out believing White's story wasn't so bad, considering Parsons' influence and all. The lengths he went through to try and save him in the end, however... Handing Payne his drink with a smile, he turned to the back bar and grabbed both a clean shot glass and the oft-used whiskey bottle. If I keep things simple and to the point, I should be able to shame him into a decent explanation... Sighing heavily, he filled the glass with whiskey and sat it in front of Edgeworth with little fanfare.

Donny looked at Edgeworth with narrow eyes. "What do you think, Jack?" he asked warily. "You're the one that actually dealt with that killer... should I tell him part of the story, or just let you go off?"

"I don't know," Jack muttered softly. He looked upward in order to mull over the issue just a bit more...

...and promptly jerked his head back down as Donny let out a loud cry of astonishment. Pointing at Edgeworth's whiskey glass with an expression of disbelief, he exclaimed, "What the hell happened to your hand, Mr. Edgeworth?"

As he directed his gaze to the bar counter, Jack took a step backwards in surprise; wrapped around the center of Edgeworth's right hand was a bandage that was almost the same as his own. Quickly, Edgeworth let go of his drink and hid the hand behind the bar counter; Jack realized that, until that moment, he'd only been using his left hand to gesture and drink his whiskey.

"Well, Mr. Edgeworth? What happened?" asked Donny, his tone more forceful than before.

"I don't think that is any business of yours," muttered Edgeworth, frowning and turning his head in the opposite direction.

Before anyone could say anything else, Gumshoe let out a hearty burst of laughter. "Now, now... there's no need to act all embarrassed about that, Mr. Edgeworth, sir!" he said consolingly. Ignoring Edgeworth's death glare, he stated, "After that murderer guy turned himself in, Mr. Edgeworth and I took a break in the prosecutor's lobby."

"Sounds reasonable," Jack said quietly. "But what-"

"I'm getting there, pal! Don't interrupt me!" After an amused shake of the head, Gumshoe continued, "Anyway, Mr. Edgeworth asked me to get him some hot tea, in order to soothe his nerves. It cost me all my spare change, but I got him that tea, made hot and fresh from the courtroom vending machine! And then-"

"-Must you tell them about this?" snapped Edgeworth, clearly annoyed.

"Hey, if you didn't want me to blab about everything, you shouldn't have brought me here, Mr. Edgeworth sir! These people-" he indicated Jack and Donny with a wave of the hand, "-egg me on so much, I can't get away with shutting up!" He chuckled again. "So, I got Mr. Edgeworth his tea, and after he started to drink it, I tried to tell him the case didn't matter; tried to cheer him up! But as soon as I mentioned that sneaky Mr. Lawyer he crushed the paper cup with his bare hand! It would have been rather impressive, but the tea was bubbling hot!" Gumshoe chuckled grimily. "Luckily, I always keep some bandages and wraps on me in case I hurt myself somehow. So, in a matter of minutes, I fixed his hand up good as new!"

"Ok, let me get this straight..." Donny muttered. "You're saying that Mr. E only got hurt because he was pissed and took it out on his own teacup?" After Gumshoe nodded, he let out a shrill burst of laughter. "That's got to be the most pathetic thing I've heard all night! What do you think, Jack?"

Jack decided it'd be best not to laugh with his friend; Edgeworth's grinding teeth and shaking arms indicated that he was very close to throttling someone. "I wouldn't exactly call it stupid, Don," he said finally. "If anything, it's a rather marked example of poetic justice."

Edgeworth harrumphed. "Poetic justice... an attractive phrase, but not very meaningful," he said tersely. "Besides, I don't think that failing to argue a case to the standards of my bartenderis a crime worthy of my receiving such bodily punishment."

Jack shrugged. "Perhaps not, Mr. Edgeworth. I, however, was actually making reference to this," Lazily, he held up his hand so that Edgeworth could see the bandage.

Edgeworth's eyes widened a bit, but he didn't seem too concerned. "I'll admit, that is a most unusual coincidence," he said airily. "But there's nothing poetic about it." When Jack said nothing, his demeanor faltered slightly. "Is there?"

Jack placed a finger to his temple and waggled it; he knew that copying one of Edgeworth's mannerisms would annoy him most greatly. "It just might," he said ambiguously. "During the times you've spoken with Mr. White... preparing testimony, before the trial... Did he ever stop to smoke a cigar?"

Edgeworth paused to think. "Yes, he did smoke one," he admitted. "But what does-"

"Could you describe it for me?"

"Describe it? But what- Oh, never mind." Edgeworth let out an irritated sigh; it was obvious that he was tired of being treated with so much disdain. "Mr. White smoked what he called a

Caribbean cigar, though I would've called it obscene. It was dark brown in color, about twelve inches in length and about-"

In a swift series of motions, Jack sat his hand on the counter, detached part of the tape surrounding his bandage, and lifted it up so that Edgeworth could clearly see the burn mark. "-This big around?" he finished grimly.

Edgeworth gave a start at the sight of the wound, his mouth opening and closing several times with nary a sound. "Yes, that wide," he said weakly. His eyebrows moved back and forth wildly as he put two and two together. "So Mr. White is the reason behind your injury?"

"Yes. And as his guilt was, indirectly, the cause of you burning your hand as well, I describe that injury as an example of poetic justice." Jack titled his head coyly. "Any questions?"

Edgeworth looked at his whiskey glass and sighed. "Yes, I am most definitely going to need this," he muttered, before grabbing it with his unadorned hand and downing it in a single gulp. After making several undignified faces in reaction to the burn of the liquor, he managed to settle on his usual frown. "Okay, Jack, you win. You'd better tell me the rest, as it has become quite obvious that I won't get a moment's peace in this bar until you finally do."

Jack nodded in satisfaction. "Damn straight, Mr. Edgeworth. And, since I want you out of my bar sometime before two in the morning, I'll even be nice enough not to drag it out in my regular style." Upon saying this, he made a point of ignoring Donny's responding laughter.

"The only reason I was able to dig the truth out of Redd White was because I was... lucky enough for him to choose to come to my bar and not go somewhere else. Had he wasted the night at say, the District Hideaway in Center City, I wouldn't have had a clue that he was even involved. Of course, even had he not shown up, I still wouldn't have swallowed those media stories about Phoenix Wright being the real murderer."

Edgeworth nodded slowly. "Considering how you were acting during my last visit, I guess I can believe that," he said.

"You'd better believe it, Mr. E!" Donny added exuberantly. "Jack was acting crazy paranoid... I was afraid he was going to put on one of those tinfoil hats and start taping a bunch of metal hangers to the ceiling!"

Gumshoe let out a hearty laugh. "That's just silly, pal! Everyone knows you've got to stick the tinfoil to the ceiling and bend the hanger wire into a hat if you really want to be protected from anything!"

"Yeah!" exclaimed Donny, a mere second before he realized what Gumshoe had actually said. "Wait... huh?"

Edgeworth sighed. "You've been reading that stupid tabloid again, haven't you, Detective?"

Gumshoe let out an indignant huff. "So what if I have, Mr. Edgeworth? The Revealer's a good source of useful information. Heck, if I hadn't read it, I wouldn't even know about that murderer Harry Butz! And another thing-"

I don't need this, Jack thought as he rubbed at his aching temples.

Thankfully, Edgeworth must have been having similar thoughts, as he quickly silenced Gumshoe by raising his palm. "Sorry about that, Mr. Keeper," he said bluntly. "Continue."

Jack nodded in gratification. "Anyway, Mr. White decided to come here because of some things he'd heard about me from Upton Washer, the defense attorney. He and Washer both showed up here last night, along with Public Prosecutor Parsons."

Edgeworth paled slightly upon hearing that fact. "Parsons was here as well?"

"Yep. Of course, with White around, he wasn't really up to his usual spit and polish... he was just as nervous as when he'd given you that phone call on Tuesday." Jack paused and made a thoughtful noise. "You know, if you had been as suspicious about White as you'd been about Parsons, things might have turned out a lot less messy." He shook his head. "But Mr. Parsons and Mr. Washer didn't matter; White had only come to talk to me and make me an offer. You see, the bastard wanted me to become one of his little spies." He let out a brash laugh.

Edgeworth raised an eyebrow. "Spies?"

Jack shrugged. "He didn't call it spying, but that was what he wanted me to do. I guess it made sense to him, considering all the lawyers and detectives I see, but... that sort of trechary isn't in me, so I turned him down." He frowned. "White didn't care for that."

"No, he wasn't a person that took denial very well," Edgeworth muttered. "I had quite a few arguments with him while we were discussing his testimony." He let out a sigh. "Keep going."

As he nodded, Jack wondered if this was what it felt like to be one of Edgeworth's witnesses, providing him a deposition. Putting such thoughts to the back of his mind, he continued, "In order to 'prove his trustility' to me and make me change my mind, he told me he was the secret witness in the Fey trial; the witness that the media had been parroting all day." He paused and scratched at the back of his head. "I was quite surprised by that fact, I'll admit. Then he told me hisversion of events, hoping that I'd accept them as truth and give into his demands."

"And that didn't work out either," Edgeworth added grimly.

"Nope. Mr. White must have been a bit off his rocker last night, because the tales he told me didn't quite coincide with all the official accounts. I called him on it; told him he must be the reason behind all the odd behavior and nonsense. When he asked me why he would do something so crazy, it became obvious that he'd only do such a thing if he'd been Ms. Fey's real killer. I was too angry to hold my discovery back; I threw it right in his face."

"Damn, pal!" exclaimed Gumshoe, clearly awestruck. "You should know better than to do something like that without someone backing you up!"

Jack gave the detective a small smile. "In retrospect, I probably should have remained silent and waited for him to leave before calling someone for help. But... as I said, I was just too damn pissed. Ms. Fey was one of my closest friends, and have her murderer smiling his smarmy smile in my bar... it was too much."

"So why didn't you call for security?" asked Gumshoe, his tone suddenly serious. "That man might've been sneaky, but they could have gotten him in for more questioning..." His voice faltered. "Right?"

Jack shook his head. "He had planned for such an eventuality; he had some sort of phone jamming device hidden in his coat. That's when he pulled out one of those stupid big cigars, and told me just how hopeless my situation was."

"He was always b-big on f-flair," Payne stammered. When everyone realized he was still in the room and turned to face him, he jumped and added, "I've m-met him a couple times before... I somehow managed to prosecute one of his workers every now and then. M-makes me wish that I'd dealt with him before my d-downfall." He tapped at his head once in shame.

After giving Payne a wary nod, Jack said, "Basically, he threatened me, and he was obviously very experienced at doing it. Said he'd expose the bar to the public, get me and Donny fired, and—" he absently gazed at the ceiling, "—some other things."

Edgeworth appeared briefly thoughtful, and then nodded. "I believe I see what you're getting at," he said slowly. "But how does that lead to your injury?"

Jack frowned and shook his head. "While he was telling me about his evil plans for screwing the justice system and such, he showed me some, er, documents to cement his position. I tried to take them from him, and failed most painfully."

"Right bastardly thing he did," Donny agreed.

After a quick nod, Jack took a step forward, the better to look at Edgeworth face-to-face. "And that leads me to the heart of the matter, Mr. Edgeworth. When I realized that I couldn't do anything in that moment, I put my hopes on you seeing through him and putting a stop to him. In response, he laughed, called you a fool, and told me to watch the news channel today just to see how right he was." Jack paused to take a heavy breath. "Apparently, he had some 'friends' at the station... he's the reason that the last part of that farce everyone called a trial was broadcast live, you know."

"Broadcast live...?" Judging by how much paler Edgeworth's face had become in that moment, he had been unaware of the transmission.

Jack's eyebrows drew upward. "Didn't Mr. von Karma tell you, Mr. Edgeworth? The News Network got a live audio hookup to your courtroom. It transmitted everything from after Mr. Wright's collapse to the verdict."

"How did..."

"Jack already told you how; White did it!" Donny snapped impatiently. "He heard it, and probably a couple thousand other people heard it too!"

"And, of course, Mr. von Karma was in here as well," Jack added basely. "I don't think he would've stayed in the building today and given you that foolish lecture had he not heard your first 'not guilty' verdict while it was happening."

Edgeworth pointed a shaking finger towards the television as he struggled to come up with something to say. "Breaking the sanctity of the courtroom... the nerve of them..."

"Yeah, Mr. von Karma said pretty much the same thing," Jack supplied dully. "But that's not what has me upset, obviously. Care to guess why I'm upset?"

Edgeworth looked at his empty glass and frowned. "Why should I, Mr. Keeper? You're going to tell me anyway."

Jack merely nodded and ignored Donny's laugh. "Very well, Mr. Edgeworth, I'll just tell you plain and simple. I know that you're a prosecutor, and it's your job to try and prove a defendant guilty. But, by the end of that trial, it was obvious to everyone in that courtroom that White was the one that did it. Even after you tried to-" he wrinkled his nose- "defend that man by claiming he'd tapped Ms. Fey's phone—a crime that I'm fairly sure April May already confessed to right in front of you, Mr. Wright managed to prove that he couldn't have. But then," Jack sputtered, his voice suddenly loud, "You tried to keep Mr. Wright in detention just by claiming that, in spite of all the obvious proof that Mr. White was guilty, stating that there was no definitive proof that Mr. Wright was innocent?! What kind of messed-up procedure is that?! The only reason that Mr. White isn't sitting here and laughing in my face right now is because Mr. Wright rattled off that list of suicide victims and his assistant had the guts to blackmail the blackmailer! I know-" Jack started waving his arms around exasperatedly, "—I know that not every trial follows a simple path to a verdict, but that was just insane!So, Mr. Edgeworth, what I want to hear from you right now is the answer to this question: Why the hell did you try so hard to keep an innocent man in prison, and let an obviously guilty man return to the streets?!" As he finally stopped to catch his breath, Jack noticed that all four of his customers were staring at him as though he'd lost his mind; however, he couldn't really find the energy to regret tearing into Edgeworth the way he just had.

After a few moments of rubbing at his temple, Edgeworth managed to look Jack in the face and flash a tiny smirk. "That was quite a display," he said levelly, "But I'm rather shocked that you would snarl that question at me as though you didn't already know the answer."

Jack raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me...?" he asked wearily.

Edgeworth shrugged. "You have been running this place for over three years now, Mr. Keeper. And in that time, you have become quite aware of my policy when it comes to finding criminals guilty."

Jack blinked several times before he realized what Edgeworth was talking about. "You don't mean that fancy-pants mantra about guilt and innocence, do you?"

Edgeworth frowned. "Yes, that is indeed what I am referring to. Also, it is not 'fancy-pants', it is how I was taught."

"You mean what Mr. VK told you, right?" Donny scratched at his head; he was obviously having trouble keeping up with this latest turn of the conversation. Finally, he chimed, "You really should try to get out of his shadow sometime. He's a bit of a scary grouch."

Edgeworth started clenching his good fist. "It is not your place to insult him," he said tersely. "The methods he taught me have been undeniably successful."

Donny sighed and folded his hands together. "That's true," he muttered. "But, from what Jack's told me, it sounds as though you should have put that aside when you came across a defendant that was obviously innocent."

"Innocent...?" Edgeworth repeated the word skeptically. "How could I have known that?" He directed his gaze upward, as though he were remembering something. "The guilty will always lie, to avoid being found out. There's no way to tell who is guilty and who is innocent. Thus, all I, as a prosecutor, can hope to do is to get every defendant declared guilty." He shook his head and returned his gaze to Jack's face. "That's what I told Wright before the trial today, and that's what I repeat to you."

Jack frowned as he mulled over Edgeworth's latest pronouncement. He's mentioned that little mantra on many different occasions... probably at least once a month for the past three years. A shame that it took Mia's death and the false accusations of both her sister and her student for me to see just how unfair that policy can be.

"Damn..." Donny spoke up before Jack could say a word. "That might make you a good prosecutor, Mr. E, but that still sounds awful cold..."

Edgeworth merely shrugged again. "Call me what you want... I can take it. What matters is that my methods get results." He turned his head the other way. "Don't you agree, Detective?"

Gumshoe, who had been watching the most recent arguments as if they were volleys in a tennis match, snapped out of his trance and vigorously nodded. "I sure do, Mr. Edgeworth! You can't trust those sneaky defendants one bit! The things I've heard some of the worst ones say... it's enough to make me sick, pals!" He leaned forward and fixed Donny with an angry glare. "It's not acting cold... It's using common sense!" Huffing, he starting turning his head back and forth, as if waiting for someone to disagree.

Luckily for Gumshoe, Jack had decided to do just that. "I don't think your policy is cold, Mr. Edgeworth," he said crisply. "I think it's stupid." Before Edgeworth could even try to retort, he continued, "With all the odd events that'd been going on, didn't you at least once consider the possibility that Mr. Wright could have been telling the truth about his innocence after all?"

Edgeworth clenched his good fist in anger, but managed to maintain his composure. "No, Mr. Keeper, I did not," he said bluntly. A second later, however, he added, "And even if I had, I would have immediately dismissed it without consideration. Such weak thoughts are completely unbecoming for a successful prosecutor to have."

Annoyed, Jack shook his head. "That's bullshit, and you know it."

"Don't you insult my philosophy, Mr. Keeper," spat Edgeworth, clearly incensed. Smacking his hand against the counter, he added, "These ideals are what have led me to all my successes so far."

"That may be true," Jack retorted bitterly, "But it's obviously not the onlypath to success. Look at Mr. Payne, here-" he indicated the man with a wave of the arm, "—he's had plenty of successful trials, but he still knows when it's best to back down. Isn't that right?"

Noticing all eyes upon him, Payne shakily adjusted his glasses. "I guess you could say that, Jack," he stated softly, "Though I used to be more successful in the days when I didn't..."

"Okay, bad example," Jack said hastily. "But what about some of the other prosecutors, like Mr. Oldbag, or Mr. Riverboat, or Ms. Streamer? They've all had as much press coverage as you do at one point or another, in spite of the fact that they've lost cases every now and then!"

Edgeworth shook his head. "Oldbag's lost his way, and Riverboat and Streamer don't even take murder cases unless they are related to their specialties," he said disdainfully. "It's not quite the same as what Mr. von Karma and I have to deal with."

"Yeah, that's right, Mr. Edgeworth, sir!" snapped Gumshoe, his face alight with adoration. "Besides, Edgeworth only follows that mantle-thingy because he trusts detectives like me to get the right man! Mr. Oldbag doesn't do that... he yells at me! Mr. Riverboat doesn't do that... he asks me stupid questions like I'm a child! And Ms. Streamer doesn't do that either... she just turns me away and uses a computer instead!" He paused to catch his breath. "Heck, if anything, Jack, you should be blaming me for this mess."

Jack frowned. "That's a good point, Detective, but it still doesn't quite excuse the fact that Mr. Edgeworth ignored the truth when it became obvious," he said derisively. "And there are prosecutors that have been both graceful and trusting, you know."

Gumshoe scoffed. "Oh yeah, pal? Name one!"

Jack quickly opened his mouth to speak, and then shut it when he realized he had no names to respond with. I've already named pretty much all of the higher-up prosecutors... damn it, why don't I have a larger clientele? He started messing with a button on his shirt, racking his brain for an answer when...

"Neil Marshall." Everyone stared at Donny in surprise as he supplied an answer. "Before he died, he managed to win that crazy K-trophy, and I'm pretty damn sure he lost a few cases the year before." Absently, he stroked his chin. "Hell, if it weren't for that bastard Darke, he'd still be ahead of Mr. E, and probably giving Mr. VK a run for his money!" He spun in his chair in order to glare at Edgeworth and Gumshoe both. "How about that?"

Surprisingly enough, both Edgeworth and Gumshoe had fallen silent, though from the looks on their faces it didn't appear as though they were going to start groveling for forgiveness anytime soon. Weary from all the arguing and strangely satisfied by the heavy silence, Jack walked over to the sink and drew himself a glass of water.

"Um... can I have another drink, please, Jack?" Payne's reedy voice cut into the heavy silence.

"Sure," muttered Jack, managing to take a quick sip before putting his glass down. "What do you want?"

"Um... another diet cola would be fine, but... Could you put some extra cherry syrup in it, please? The sugar will keep me from falling asleep during the drive home." He managed a weak laugh.

"Understood." Without another word, Jack grabbed a glass out of a cupboard, a bottle of diet cola out of the fridge, a bottle of syrup of the shelves, and set himself to work.

Now that I've yelled myself out, no one really feels like seriously speaking up, he thought, pouring the cola into the glass. If I'm lucky, Edgeworth will at least think of all the crap I spewed at him the next time he has a big trial. Loosely biting his lower lip, he unsealed the new bottle of cherry syrup and poured some into the glass. A lot of things have happened since the last time I made Payne one of these. I'll be damn happy if I can make it to the end of the night without any more craziness happening.

Unfortunately, before he could even finish stirring Payne's drink, he was interrupted by the sound of the oft-present door chime. Cursing the Gods of Perfect Timing, Jack took a deep breath, turned around...

...And let out a relieved sigh as he watched Marvin Grossberg slowly meander towards his end of the bar. Compared to several of the other people that could have dropped in at this hour (Upton Washer and Manfred von Karma came to mind), the old defense attorney was mostly harmless.

Upon reaching the bar counter, Jack noticed that Grossberg was whistling a tune; obviously, he was in a very good mood. His happiness became even more self-evident when he managed to clamber onto the empty barstool next to Payne without uttering a single buttock-related complaint.

"Good evening, Mr. Barkeeper!" he greeted, his voice full of genuine enthusiasm. "How are you and your customers faring on this most wonderful of days?"

Jack frowned. "Er, well, we're, uh..." Unable to come up with a decent adjective, he merely waved an arm in the direction of his lackluster clientele.

Grossberg's eyebrows drew together as he took in the expressions of the other four men at the bar. "Well, this certainly won't do," he muttered, shaking his head. "Will someone explain to me why everyone appears to be so hopelessly down in the dumps?"

"They've been arguing," Payne stated, after just a few seconds of pause. "You should be glad you didn't show up any earlier." He rubbed at the side of his head. "Even by my standards, it was a rather ear-splitting event."

Grossberg made a contemplative noise. "That does sound rather serious, Mr. Payne," he said quietly. "Do I want to know what this so called argument was about?"

Payne glanced at Jack, who tiredly shook his head. "No, Mr. Grossberg, I don't think that would help any," he muttered.

Grossberg nodded in satisfaction. "Well, in that case, I'm not going to inquire about it any further." Turning to look at Jack, he added, "I am not the prying type, you see." Glancing down the length of the bar, he frowned again. "What I will not tolerate, however, is this purposeless moping! If you have finished with your various noisy arguments, I suggest that you all apologize or at least try to put it aside!"

The other customers stared at Grossberg as he finished his little statement. "Now see here," said Edgeworth, his voice impertinent, "It's not quite that simple..."

"-It is only as complicated as you make it, Mr. Edgeworth," Grossberg retorted smoothly. "You need not forget your disagreements; just try to act like reasonable human beings. This is one of the finest days I've had in fifteen years, you see, and I do not need it ruined by something so petty!"

Jack frowned as he glanced at Edgeworth (and, by association, Gumshoe).Had I tried to re-explain the entire argument, Grossberg probably would have taken my side. Still, he has a bit of a point. Edgeworth's been a decent customer these past few years, and I don't really want to act all pissed towards him forever...

"Alright, pals," muttered Gumshoe, effectively cutting off Jack's thought process. "I still don't think you should talk to Mr. Edgeworth like that, but I'll let it go this time." He scratched at the back of his head. "I'm guess I'm sorry for raising my voice, too."

After giving Gumshoe a nod of approval, Jack decided to swallow his pride as well. "I think I overdid the righteous anger routine just a little bit, Mr. Edgeworth. I still can't say I like how things happened, but the right things worked out in the end. Truce?"

Edgeworth made a face as if he'd just wafted something extremely pungent. "I guess it's a truce," he finally said softly. "Though I do believe that you should try to stick to your own sphere of influence instead of overanalyzing the actions of others..."

"We'll see," Jack said levelly. "You never know what might happen next."

Edgeworth merely harrumphed and turned towards Donny, the only quarreler in the room that had yet to say anything. The others in the room quickly did the same.

Aware of all the attention placed on him, Donny mindlessly fiddled with his collar. "Oh, all right, I'm done yelling too!" he yelled, apparently unaware that he'd broken his rule in the process of stating it. "But, jeez, all this sudden sappy stuff is making my stomach churn! Are we done now?!"

"Yes, I believe you are 'done'," stated Grossberg, the smirk on his face reflecting his satisfaction. Slowly, he turned to Jack. "Now, then, Mr. Barkeeper, I believe I too should contribute towards a more sociable atmosphere. A round of premium beer for everyone, on me!"

"Here, here!" shouted Gumshoe, his enthusiasm unsurprisingly restored.

"None for me, though," chimed Payne.

"Ah, yes," Grossberg muttered softly. "I seem to remember a time, long ago, in which you partook in the over-consumption of alcohol... a sight as scary as it was strange." He shook his head. "Get to it, Barkeeper!"

"Yes, sir!" snapped Jack, firing off his best mock salute. In a matter of just two short minutes, he gathered four mugs, filled each with beer from the premium tap, and set them before every customer save Payne with relaxed decorum.

"Now then, if you are all settled, I would like to start things off with a toast." Glancing at the others in the room, he added, "You don't mind letting an old toastmaster make use of his well-honed skill, now do you?"

"Uh, no... Of course not," said Jack, turning around so that Grossberg wouldn't see his amused smile. Quickly, he picked up his glass of water and turned back towards the bar counter. "I'm ready when you are."

"Thank you," Grossberg said gratefully. "Now then..." He raised his glass, and sat as straightly as he could.

"Ah-HHHHEM!"After making a production of clearing his throat, a thoughtful expression came across Grossberg's face.

"I would like to raise a toast to the defense attorney, Mr. Wright, for his amazing courtroom victory today. Unlike... many lawyers I've come across in my many years of practicing law, he had the courage to both stand up against corruption and risk his own freedom so that Mr. Redd White finally received the prison term that he most definitely deserved. To Wright!"

"To Wright!" echoed the others, though Edgeworth's rendition sounded extremely unenthusiastic.

That wasn't too bad, thought Jack, drinking his water along with everyone else. Considering all that White had done, Mr. Wright definitely deserves the honor.

A wry smile appeared on Donny's face. "That was pretty good, Big G."

"Why thank you, Mr. Guard, I-"

"-But not good enough," he finished bluntly. Noticing everyone's incredulous stares, he added, "I mean, it didn't fall flat or anything... it's just that you managed to miss a good bit of the point."

Grossberg frowned. "So you are stating that you can do better, Mr. Guard?"

Donny raised his beer mug and grinned. "I think I just might."

Jack suddenly felt very, very wary, but he could do nothing but raise his glass and hope that his friend didn't screw things up too badly.

"I would like to propose a toast... to Ms. Mia Fey." recited Donny, his voice uncharacteristically solemn. "She was a good person, a good lawyer, and a hell of a good friend to boot." Pausing, he looked toward the ceiling and let out a sigh. "And... although she won't be able to physically come to this bar anymore, I'm sure that a part of her will always be here with us, watching..." Unconsciously, he swiped a tear from his face.

Jack too rubbed at his face; he wasn't surprised to find that his eyes were tearing up as well. My God, he thought, that was brilliant! I wonder if they have an award for these kinds of things...

Donny wasn't quite finished yet, however; as he raised his mug higher, he dropped his solemn expression in favor of a mischievous grin. "And that part of her had better be watching us pretty damn closely," he quipped, "Because we're always going to be down here... drinking!" With that, he nodded to the ceiling, chugged the rest of his beer, and slammed the empty mug against the counter with a satisfied grin.

After a moment of heavy silence, Donny spun in his chair so that he could see everyone else's face. "So..." he muttered warily, "How'd I do?"

Seeing that no one else was going to answer, Jack laughed and shot his friend an approving smile. "Let me put it this way, Don. As far as great toastmasters go, you're most definitely one of a kind."

---

A/N: So... After 80,000 words, 10 chapters, and about eight months of writing time (which ended five months ago, btw), I finally finish a parallel to what qualifies as the least complex multi-game case (from an in-game perspective) of the entire AA series. I need a drink.

While this chapter was long, it's obviously full of recap; I just can't seem to write this damn story without outlining every logical detail. My writing is best described as meticulous, I guess. Now then, I'm sure there's a couple odd plot points in this chapter, so let me speak of them just a bit:

Hammond's got Confrontation Issues: Because I created this artificial location that has both Robert Hammond and Miles Edgeworth in it at various random times, I also have to create a reason for the two not to interact with one another, or else I've destroyed one of the main plot points of GS1-4. Thus, the most logical means is for Hammond to want to avoid Edgeworth at all costs due to the events of DL-6; after all, Edgeworth represents a most ironic consequence of his relentless desire to win. Normally, Hammond wouldn't even be in the bar when Edgeworth has a chance of showing up (I can picture him making sure the bright red sports car isn't in the garage), but the end of 1-2 is a big enough source of stress for him to temporarily forget that. As time goes on, I'm sure there'll be a bunch of other weird things I have to do (especially in 1-5) to keep disbelief suspended.

Edgeworth's Burn: This is technically never mentioned in canon, as I transposed an event that occurred halfway through 1-3 to the end of 1-2 and then changed it somewhat (That's what I get for not playing the game in a while). I didn't get rid of it in this update because I liked the parallel burn plot point too much.

Why is DSL inventing prosecutors out of nowhere? As I was writing these earlier chapters, I was gradually forming ideas for a bunch of original prosecutors in my head, as it's quite obvious that, if the prosecutors' Office is in a big city, there has to be more than 2-4 people working cases there at any given time. Since I didn't want to flood my already OC-heavy fic with dozens of random prosecutors, I only created three to use in parts of this story: Harry Oldbag (I made a canon character relative; please kill me), Chance Riverboat, and Terra Streamer. The first is a major character that fills a canon role and first appears at the start of Case 3; the latter two are minor characters, acting largely as sources of information, and they make their first appearances in late Case 3 and late Case 4 respectively. The reason these prosecutors would never appear in canon is because the vast majority of the cases they take aren't homicides. I do feel bad creating so many original characters for this story, but the good news is that after these three are introduced I see no reason to add any more recurring in-bar OCs for the rest of the PW trilogy (as if I'll ever make it past the first game...).

It'll probably be a bit before I put up Chapter 15, the middle installment of Episode 'x', as I have to write a flashback-inducing introduction in order to justify the moved material. This, however, will give me a decent opportunity to add one more canon character to the mix. Until then, readers...

-DSL