".. Phoenix..."

An echo.

"Phoenix..."

A shadow.

"Phoenix."

A figment of his imagination?

"Phoenix?"

A question?

"PHOENIX?"

A love interest?

"PHOENIX!"

A love interest.

"PHOENIX! Ah-" Edgeworth's sand-paper-like tongue licked the sensitive insides of his dry, chapped lips as he finished screaming his boyfriend's name, conscious of the fact that his voice had cracked halfway through and that he may have just embarrassed himself even further - if that was even possible. His eyes slowly trailed, from his lopsided position on the badly-carpeted, itchy floor, to the patch of woven cotton upon which the kidnapper had previously been stood before he'd fled - taking Edgeworth's precious belonging with him. Is that what Phoenix was now? A belonging? No. It was just a figure of speech. Although the prosecutor was certain that the defence attorney was his defence attorney, and no one else's. One could say that, in those terms, Edgeworth was right in thinking that Phoenix was his. His stomach churned as, slowly, memories began to sluggishly resurface at the cloudy, murky skin of the pool of water in his head - also known as his 'brain', which seemed to now also be feeding his eyes with a few fresh tears - of what had happened before the miniature 'gas attack' when he'd passed out.
"Phoenix.." The prosecutor let out a strained sob, bringing his numb hand across the rough carpet to his face and letting a few more drops of natural rainwater trickle down his angular cheeks. Edgeworth eventually feverishly began to rub his eyes, clearing his blurry vision and instinctively blinking a few times, before going stiff;

What was he doing? Crying wasn't going to bring Phoenix back! They had to go and find him, and that meant that the prosecutor had to put aside his wimpish nature and get out there.

Edgeworth brought his hands back down, away from his face, and glanced over at where Ema had been lain, hoping desperately that she would be ready to begin their next investigation - but was faced with a reality he hadn't quite been ready to witness.

Ema wasn't there... And neither was Clementine.

"Ms Skye?" The prosecutor called out half-heartedly, not really expecting any response to just somehow magically form from the air molecules secretly surrounding him, slipping under the watchful radar of the naked eye. Perhaps that damned kidnapper was an air molecule. That would be a laugh.
"Ms Skyyyeee..." Edgeworth more-than-audibly sighed, sucking in the musty, 'stale' (according to the prosecutor, who would be the only person on planet Earth to put a price-tag and quality-rating on air...) and forcing himself into a standing position. He hastily redid his cravat as he scanned the corridor, puffing out his chest in annoyance as he continued to remember the haunting events of the night before. Wait. What time was it? The prosecutor squinted at the thin bars of daylight filtering through the pale white window panes. It looked like morning. Had he been out cold all that time? It seemed unlikely, but.. Perhaps he really had been unconscious all that time. Edgeworth gritted his teeth - he'd always loved his sleep; when Phoenix was around, of course.
"Where the heck is that forensic scientist?" The prosecutor spun on his heel with overflowing impatience, clenching his fists and carving deep embellishments of crescent moons into his pale flesh, his elegant fingers curled into his palm with great force.
"Perhaps she's outside.." He glared, fuming, at the flight of stairs where the cowardly Clementine had previously been precariously perched, too concerned about his own wellbeing to even consider backing up Edgeworth or Ema. That hopeless policeman. Where was he now, the prosecutor pondered; up some sort of dark alleyway? Stranded in a yacht 50 million miles away? He couldn't put it past the dumb fool. Klutzy Clementine.

The prosecutor rolled his eyes at the, rather uninteresting, memory as he began to make his steady, rushed, way down said stairs.
"Ms Skye?" The prosecutor practically skipped off of the last meagre step, with the rare grace of a deer, before sprinting across the rest of the floor and finally reaching the, previously smashed to pieces and thoroughly broken apart, door - of which half was still lying dismally on the floor from the trio's break-in.
"Ms Skye, are you-" Edgeworth paused mid-sentence as he realised he'd stumbled upon some sort of high-tech forensics examination set from a typical spy-movie. Amidst the rotting shrubbery caked with rows of houses opposite it, the forensic scientist seemed to be chatting casually to some sort of police-officer which Edgeworth had never laid eyes upon before, surrounded by swarms of other random members of the police force investigating the perimeter. The prosecutor took a deep breath of the fresh air in before confidently striding out, making sure he had a full, straight posture as he made his way toward Ema to comply to the busy, professional atmosphere. The forensic scientist finished talking to the other man, just in time to not have to be surprise-ambushed by the prosecutor, and turned to Edgeworth;
"Oh! Mr Edgeworth. You're awake! I was just going to come back to check up on you."
"Good... Morning, I presume?"
"Yes. We were out cold for a good night's sleep, I assure you." Ema folded her arms.
"What did they gas us with?"
"'Dormient Extasia' - or, to you common folk, 'sleeping gas'."
"But the true name doesn't mean 'sleeping gas'. It is Latin for 'Sleeping Ecstasy'..." Edgeworth retorted, in resentment of the fact that he'd just been referred to as being on the same level as 'common folk'.
"You know Latin?"
"Chess."
"Huh?"
"Chess made me want to learn Latin,"
"How-"
"Anyway, where is Phoenix?" The prosecutor visibly began to sweat at the mention of his missing boyfriend, secretly terrified of what Ema might say.
"Never mind that for a second! Haven't you noticed yet? Where is my beautiful van?" The forensic scientist whined, gesturing to the empty spot in which the pristine white forensics van had been parked the night before. The prosecutor raised an eyebrow;
"You value a van over a person?"
"No, but.. We can't do anything without my van..."
"What about all this equipment around us? All the detectives and scientists from the precinct?"
"Listen, Mr Edgeworth... Phoenix was yours, right? Well - that van was mine."
"You must have a lot of sentimentality towards it." The prosecutor stated absent mindedly, his mind already off in some faraway, unknown, place in which Phoenix was situated.
"Yes." Ema replied, glancing at Edgeworth disapprovingly;
"You're not here, are you?"
"Huh?" The prosecutor exclaimed.
"Your mind. You're not thinking about any of this, are you?"
"Was I being that obvious?"
"Uh huh. Your eyes glassed over."
"You know what?" Edgeworth cocked his head to the side slightly.

"That hurt."