Aftermath

That knock on the head was something else, he mused, carefully picking around spiked hair to examine the large welt throbbing on the side of his head. Dried blood caked the open sore; some of the red color smeared from the wound, mingling with the dark strands of hair. I'm glad it wasn't any worse.

Yet somehow, he had won the case. He was ditzy, confused, and at one point asked the opinion of a child, but he managed to scrape enough of his memory together to succeed. All and all it wasn't the most attractive victory, but a victory nonetheless.

Thinking back to the drama from earlier, he smiled. Who could have known the thrill of yelling 'objection' in a courtroom?

Apparently, he had. Was this the reason he became a defense attorney?

Some of the memories of his life had finally returned. Why he did not go immediately to the emergency room on the onset of his acute memory loss was a mystery – maybe winning that case meant more?

He shook his head at himself in the mirror, albeit slowly. Winning a case should not be as important as one's own life, he sighed, dabbing the purple bruise festering in his hair line with a damp cloth.

He exhaled again as he glanced at the bloodied cloth. Red on white. Red…Redd White?

Another memory of not too long ago…or was it long enough? Regardless, the name was familiar – it was a name, he concluded, despite its odd ring.

Dismissing the fragmented memory, he went back to cleaning the wound. A hiss escaped his lips as rubbing alcohol seeped into the open sore.

A fire extinguisher, he thought, feeling the size and texture of the damage. Not that he could assume that was what caused the injury...

…

…Gumshoe…told him. Presumably the detective used Luminol to test the extinguisher for blood…just in case.

Detective Dick Gumshoe, his mind clicked in place. As if he had called up information in his mind, his thoughts reviewed everything that he could remember about the man.

Not that that didn't come with consequences – his head already hurt terribly, testing his knowledge was answered with a heavier throbbing on his temple. He didn't dare take more aspirin – he'd already almost finished a bottle on his own.

So he decided a next best course of action. He casually walked into his small kitchen and rummaged through the cupboard for a glass. Pouring himself a bit of whiskey, he downed the shot and filled another.

Best thing about alcohol is that it never goes bad and it's easy to store.

He glanced around his small apartment slowly, adjusting for the clouded vision and cloth pressed to his head. Nothing looked out of place, and he generally remembered the more important items in the room.

Still, he probably wouldn't have made it back to the apartment had Maya not shown him the way. He couldn't help but think about the questions that must have seemed silly asking his legal aide. The first aid attendant in court said that the effects of trauma should wear off within a few days, but his mind needed to know the answers of his life now.

"So how did I become a defense attorney?"

"I'm not sure Nick, but you worked with my sister, and she was your mentor."

"Mentor, huh? She must've been important to me."

A giggle. "You could say that, Nick."

"How long have I been a defense attorney?"

"It was one year, last month."

"Oh. Am I good?"

"Oh, yes, definitely so! You proved me innocent of a crime just recently!"

"Really? That's great!"

"…"

"… You didn't do it, right?"

"Of course not!" She administered a playful punch on the arm that was enough to distract from the mounting pain in his head.

He smiled at the recollection of the purple clad girl. She was an oddity for sure – the clothes told him that much – but on the inside, she was a caring individual, just like…

…?

Who did she remind him of?

Hmm. Apparently all the cobwebs hadn't quite shaken free from the vaults of his mind.

"So, my name is Phoenix Wright."

"Right."

"That's what I said."

"I mean… correct."

"Okay. So if I'm Phoenix Wright, why do you call me Nick?"

"Because Larry calls you Nick."

"…"

"…"

"…Harry?"

"No silly! L-A-R-R-Y."

He puzzled over the name again. Larry…Larry who?

Redirecting his consciousness to the present, he thought again about that strangely familiar sounding name. He even felt that there was a lighthearted joke somehow connected to it; a happy, contented feeling swelled from the thought.

Hmm…Larry.

He opened the fridge and pulled out an ice cube tray. Splitting the remaining cubes between the compress and his drink, he tossed the container into the sink and shut the freezer door. Walking over to the leather armchair in the small living area, he slumped into the massive cushion with a heavy thud.

He sighed as he pressed into the large chair, sliding forward to rest in an almost reclined position on the leather. It felt as though the ice was battling the pulsing mass raging at his temple. The slight buzz from the liquor helped a little with registering the pain, and for the first time since the incident he was able to relax a little.

An upbeat paced song started blaring at this side.

Quickly he recognized the tune that so fittingly made his case earlier. The 'Steel Samurai' Maya had called it; the protector of justice. He smiled as he answered the cell phone.

"Hey, pal!" Came a cheery voice from the other end. A bit much, he had to pull the receiver away while wincing at the gruff voice that nearly shouted his ear off.

"Detective! Please, could you keep your voice down a bit? My head still…"

"Sure pal!" If there was a difference, he didn't notice. "Just checking to make sure you're alright, is all. How's the noggin?"

"Better." Phoenix bluffed. It felt marginally the same, but he wasn't about to tell Gumshoe. He had a feeling that the detective could be a bit…overzealous at times.

"Good, pal! The doc told me you should take it easy for a little while. I called to make sure that's what you were doing." He heard confident breathing on the other side.

"Sure, Gumshoe." He winced as he adjusted the compress to his head. "I don't believe I'll be going anywhere soon. Thanks for asking."

"No prob, pal! Oh, another thing; the guys down here at the precinct asked if you wanted to press charges against the guy - you know, the witness from earlier?"

Phoenix only thought for a second. "No, detective. He's already convicted of murder – I don't think an assault charge is going to make much of a difference."

"No problem, pal. Still had to ask – police policy and all that."

"I understand, detective – thanks for the concern."

"You bet. Talk to you soon!"

The phone made an audible blip noise as he ended the call.

Sighing as he reclined in the chair a little more comfortably, he closed his eyes and listened to the sound of raindrops on the window. It had threatened to rain all day, so it wasn't surprising hearing the soft patter on glass. If anything, the sound felt relaxing as he let his eyes close, allowing himself to fully rest.

The light was blinding in the small room upon awakening. The kink in his neck alerted him to the fact that he probably shouldn't have fallen asleep on the recliner, no matter how comfortable he had been originally.

Another startling development occurred as he shot upright from his slumber.

"Your honor! I demand that the witness be held in contempt…of…court?" He puzzled a bit before sitting back in the chair. That dream was all too vivid; he could smell the perfume of the client, hear the sound of paper rustling on the courtroom bench, feel the intense charged atmosphere as if the room was filled with static.

Was it a dream, or a stray memory coming back to haunt him?

He groaned as the stiff pulse returned to his temple – the short reprieve before waking had worn off, leaving the ache that stemmed from his injury. Some of the pain seemed to dull down a bit from the day before, spiking pain reduced to a low throb that was much easier to handle.

Pulling the wet mass of compress from his chest, he realized that the now warm pack migrated from its original place at the side of his head. Apparently he had wrapped his arms around it, soaking his shirt overnight. He propped himself upward, took a look at the mess, then tossed the sopping fabric into the sink.

I wonder if there was something I was supposed to do today. Phoenix mused as he strode into the bedroom to change his wrecked clothes. Luckily the suit he had worn didn't cost much; the blood stains soaked into the collar of his jacket and lined his shirt that the attorney had no hope of removing now.

Checking the lump in the bathroom mirror, he noted that the swelling had decreased a surprising amount since the night before. A bit of sleep certainly helped with the recovery process, he mused at his reflection. Combing lightly over the bruise, he was pleased to see the majority of the damage was concealed in his dark hair.

Donning a similar blue pair of slacks and a white and blue striped shirt, he figured the best thing would be a little fresh air, and maybe some breakfast. Obviously he had nothing in the fridge at home, so it was apparent that he needed to find alternate sources.

The rain from the night before had given the city a fresh clean smell. The air was slightly chilled, but the cold didn't bother Phoenix – actually it helped with the cloudy feeling that kept sticking to his consciousness.

Walking up the street, he took in the vast scenery of tall buildings and listened to the noises of the city. He was almost glad he didn't have a license to drive, otherwise he would have missed all the sights. Other people were also walking about and he nodded to a few as he made his way to a small bakery along his path. Quickly he stepped inside.

"Mr. Wright! Long time no see!" A cheery voice greeted him. He nodded and smiled, though his mind had not decided to divulge information about who that it was addressing him.

He could barely make out the small figure behind the counter, large stacks of pastries blocking the view of the person on the other side. He stared, hoping to catch a glimmer of the greeter. "How are you?" He stalled.

"Just fine, Mr. Wright! So, will you be having the usual?" The voice inquired.

"Uh…sure!" he matched the lively cantor with his own. Just how often did he come here?

And what exactly was 'the usual'?

"Here you go!" He could see her now that he faced the counter. Short black hair and glasses stood out most prominently on the girl.

Pulling out his wallet, the tossed the only bill he had inside on the counter. A five wasn't going to go a long way.

"Oh, Mr. Wright! You're so modest! No matter how many times I tell you, you still try to pay. I already told you, it's on the house – you already did plenty for little ol' me!" The beaming girl deftly pushed the money back over the counter.

Phoenix blinked. What? A slight blush crept across his face.

"Anyway, as much trouble I was in, it's amazing I kept this place open, and it was all because of you. Why can't I treat the protector of my livelihood?" She handed the attorney an unmarked bag of contents and a plastic container of steaming liquid, then playfully shooed him away. "Now git, before I make you – your regular seat outside is available."

Questions went zooming around in his hazy mind as he quietly stepped out the door. It seems that now more than ever he needed to use his deductive reasoning skills to figure out what was going on here.

If he couldn't remember that, what else could he be forgetting?

Sitting at a bench that overlooked the park, he opened the mysterious bag of contents to find a few cream filled donuts along with some hot…coffee, he smelled.

"Wow, Nick! You're already up and about?" A familiar voice called out.

Maya.

"Uh, yeah. I wanted to get something to…" he watched as the girl deftly swooped one of the donuts from inside the bag. "…eat."

"So, you must be getting more of your memory back if you came here. This is your regular routine." She happily chewed on her prize as her eyes gleamed at the lawyer.

"The woman inside says that it had been a while." Phoenix mused over a mouthful of pastry. No wonder this was 'the usual'!

"Yeah…normally when you work a case, you don't get a chance to come here. Traffic and all that." Brushing the crumbs off of her face. "All and all it's been what, three days? I think she was just being sarcastic."

"…I guess…" Phoenix swallowed, absorbed in thought.

A quiet moment passed as they ate. Phoenix was the first to break the silence.

"So, when was the last case I worked on before this one?" he asked. Judging from the five spot in his wallet, he hadn't been working much.

"Probably about six months ago." Maya gingerly finished the donut.

Phoenix almost choked on his coffee. "Why so long?" he asked, surprised.

"I don't know." She stated, a far away look appearing in her gaze.

Apparently Maya was wondering the same thing.

Suddenly, Phoenix felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle. Did she know something that he didn't?

"Maya." Phoenix started again. "Is there something that I should know? Or remember? Anything - I would really like to know."

The purple clad girl shook from her daze and gave the lawyer a jovial smile. "If it were that important, I'd tell you!"

Phoenix relaxed a little, though the nagging sensation didn't let up much. He decided he would look into it himself later.