"O-of course he can't in that state!" Miles protested as he was royally escorted back beneath the portable bed's burgundy covers. Phoenix grimaced and shut his eyes again for a moment, lost.
"Where's Gavin?" He finally asked with great effort, barely audible.
"Being observed in the Leader's quarters." Phoenix loosely nodded and forced his eyes open again with a strained breath, squinting as colour overwhelmed his vision again.
"Whose fingerprints are on the gun?"
"That's actually why I decided to give you a chance." Ema looked him in the eyes - not that he noticed:
"There aren't any." Phoenix widened his eyes in shock, trembling as he clutched his stomach.
"D-Do you have the bullet? Check its ballistic-"
"No bullets were found. It went straight through Leader Edgeworth's body."
"This is ridiculous. He's just been tortured, how can you expec-" Miles's interjection was halted as Phoenix's glassy eyes seemed to acquire some of their old charm, flashing alluringly beneath white lights.
"Th-Then how do you know that's the murder weapon?" Ema frowned for a moment before countering:
"It's the only logical instrument in that room someone could have used for suicide or murder which matches his wound's data." Phoenix frowned and looked to Miles, hissing as a twinge immobilised his head for a moment, specks filling his vision.
"Show it to Miles," He quietly stated. The black rifle was presented to the silvery-haired Leader by a pair of gloved hands.
"I-Is that the gun he shot you with? What do you remember?" Phoenix desperately clutched the hand rests with clammy palms, exhaling as Miles shook his head;
"No. Definitely not. The gun he shot me with came from his inner pocket. That gun is far too big and, if I'm correct, one of my own."
"See? That rifle can't be the murder weapon!" Phoenix croaked determinedly.
"That's assuming that Gavin actually murdered him and he didn't commit suicide." Ema curled her lip:
"You need to prove it was murder."
"T-The gun's the key, right? If we can find it, we can examine the fingerprints-"
"They'd have been wiped off by now, Phoenix," Miles looked down sadly at the blood-lathered floor he was thankfully not having to stand on, vomit forming in his throat as the realisation that that was probably the excrement of Phoenix's circulatory system strewn upon the floor dawned on him. Phoenix's throat dejectedly dried, his eyes helplessly scanning the room in an attempt to prevent them from shutting again despite the refreshing release that sleep would provide his aching body.
"There were 2 bangs on the night. Right, Miles?"
"Yes. I thought that you'd been blown up-"
"This is irrelevant." Ms Skye quickly intervened.
"But this is proof!" Miles yelled, his eyes blazing with as much fierce passion as the crimson he so proudly bore.
"Gavin threatened me saying he'd blow Phoenix up and it was the first bang that made me sign off."
"Then it was a set up!" Phoenix widened his eyes:
"The bangs would just make us think he missed one shot when committing suicide but made Miles-"
"Hearsay."
"Did you find any marks where a bullet could have struck?" Ms Skye ignored him.
"We want proof that it was murder."

"Th-Then.." His lack of thoughts fumbled atop his tongue as they all struggled to be voiced at the same time.
"Gavin is the only one who'd benefit from Miles's death. He's got the perfect motive-"
"Proof, Wright." Ema sternly eyed him as he sweated, too wasted to squirm.
"As soon as I let Gavin know he tried to kill Miles, he attacked me and-"
"We don't want hearsay."
"I-It's not hearsay! You saw me being tortured-"
"Yes, but you could be lying about the reason." Phoenix hollowly gaped at the forensics detective before slowly formulating a sentence:
"This is completely biased against me. You won't accept witness accounts or the obvious reality-"
"I suppose you can't prove it then."
"Did Gavin set this up? Were you in on it the whole time? He set it all up, didn't-" Phoenix gritted his teeth as something in the chair stabbed him in the back harshly enough to penetrate his skin and wreak havoc (as well as induce an off-guard scream), but not kill him. Miles immediately attempted to command his body into action, but was restrained by Nahyuta and a few other doctors & nurses, resorting to screeching instead:
"Phoenix!"
"Don't blame your incapability on me, Phoenix."

Phoenix narrowed his eyes.
"What happened to you being observed in the Leader's quarters?"
"I got bored, so I took a walk." Gavin flashed a grin at the glaring Miles Edgeworth as he strode in, issuing a small wave:
"You know, outside. Around the landmines." The room went silent, the intrusion having entirely filled it to its capacity. Any more words that would be uttered would be an aftermath of the event - vomit after food poisoning - because Kristoph had won. Phoenix's chest ached, yearning to reverse time: to regain that idyllic, foolish trust he'd worked so hard on for all those years after Dahlia had pricked him - stabbed him - with her Hawthornes, but the blonde demon had stolen it in the process of being birthed. His deep blue eyes flitted over to an equally drained Miles Edgeworth, calmly blinking as they contemplated whether he could have raised that trust with the silvery-haired man. They might never know now. Miles denied Kristoph the delight of a biting response, aware that it would merely nip instead of provide the crushing blows they needed.
"Skye," Phoenix tiredly appealed;
"I know you set us up, but can't you see Gavin's bad news? Please help-"
"If you'd listen to me, Phoenix Wright, then maybe I wouldn't be bad news."
"Shut it, Gavin. I'm still the one with authority here-" Miles barked before being cut short.
"But you're not in any state to lead. You already admitted you can't even stand for long." Gavin sweetly smiled back as he advanced towards Phoenix again - who widened his eyes fearfully, tremors holding his body captive as he realised he had nowhere to go. The chair had a spike poised on his back, and getting off would just take him straight to Kristoph - which was an even more terrifying prospect than the cursed tendrils of death.
"I think that it's more suspicious that Edgeworth here was shot in your quarters."
"That's preposterous!" Miles cried out:
"It was you. You shot-"
"Care to explain where you were on the evening, Phoenix?" Phoenix glared up at the other mutely.

"I was waiting for you in the guests' living room as you damn well know." He stammered a tad unconvincingly. Miles's eyes were on him and he felt little.
"Oh really?" Kristoph gave a shark-tooth grin as he turned to the staff assembled around the spectacle.
"Do you all hear these blatant lies?"
"What? We both know that we planned for you to go and ask Miles-"
"I'll tell you exactly where you were." Phoenix and his limbs democratically decided that staying put would be the best plan of action right up until the blonde towered over his cowering shell of a body, forcing him into submission as a hand yanked him to his feet by his hair with a pained whine. Miles gasped, his heart slamming against his ribcage in trepidation.
"You were in your room, shooting Miles Edgeworth."
"S-So the story's changed now? It was murder, not suicide?" Phoenix's strained voice cracked between groans, his head throbbing as his arms aimlessly grappled at whatever was in front of them in a feeble attempt to ward it off.
"Stop this! This is unjustifiable!" Miles yelled, determinedly wrestling the individuals pinning him to his bed this time with estranged hisses as pain blossomed from his wound. Kristoph didn't even glance back.
"It has become apparent to me that you set this all up to look like a suicide." Phoenix widened his eyes, incapable of dialogue as he was lifted off of the ground with a shriek like an imprudent schoolboy.
"I didn't want to bring this up because I really did like you, but I did find the real murder weapon." Kristoph dropped him. He let out a sob.
"Even Edgeworth can confirm that it is real." A pistol met the artificial light of the room, gleaming, as it was birthed from a dubious inside pocket. The blonde turned to a struggling silvery-haired man with a smile.
"Familiar?" Miles fell briefly stagnant amidst his disgust before having to snappily concede:
"Yes, that is the pistol you shot me with."
"And it was your fingerprints that were found on it, Mr Phoenix Wright."

The fallen spiky-haired man risked a blurry glance up at the man looming above his fallen, frail body, blinking back tears as he did so. He couldn't even concoct a frown he had been placed beneath such seething, scorching, suffocating agony and every word felt as though he was being stabbed relentlessly - in the back, the neck, the legs, his right knee - whilst he could do nothing about it. Limp.
"Skye, is this true?" Miles hastily exclaimed. She half-heartedly nodded, refusing to make eye-contact.
"I... You've set me up! I've never even touched a gun-"
"That is the true reason why you are in death row." Kristoph delivered a swift kick to Phoenix's chest, forcing him upright with a strangled cry.
"I think we've all had enough of your lies. This ends now." A pause:
"Perhaps Mr Leader Miles Edgeworth the homophobic homosexual will enjoy this."

Kristoph smirked, glancing dismissively at the bedstricken man, before shoving Phoenix Wright into a kiss. The shorter man pathetically pushed up against the chest of the other, his legs kicking air as he was actually lifted off the ground by his neck, struggling to breathe. Phoenix was crying for the billionth time that day, and Miles's shrieks were getting more and more distant: they were wheeling him and his bed out of the room. Blood was in his ears, pumping. Kristoph tasted awful. It was lobster and poison interlaced with grit. Phoenix was going to die. He was going to die. He couldn't breathe.

Bang.