Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters. A pity, really. If I owned Phoenix Wright, there would be a lot more yaoi.

A/N: Hi! Its me again. Okay, this chapter gets really angsty, so deal with it or leave. There is painfully obvious hinting of self-mutilation, so if you can't take the emo, the back button is right there. Mia gets kind of OOC, but doesn't everybody when they're depressed? I know I do. Actually, many people question if I have a character... or if I'm just me, which explains a lot more than you'd think. Trials and Tribulations spoilers, I think...

Mia stood in her bathroom, looking at herself in the small medicine cabinet mirror. The light overhead flickered, then died, casting a greyish look on the stark white walls and hiding her face from view. She sighed, but continued to stare into the now black depths of the couldn't see her reflection anymore, but knew that it was frowning back at her, with red-rimmed eyes and a puffy, tear-stained face. One look in the mirror had confirmed her worst fear:she wasn't anywhere close to being able to date again. She'd made a rash decision, in hopes that a new relationship would help forget... but she was dead wrong. A glance at the clock told her that her stupidity would reap its consequences in roughly an hour, when Phoenix was set to sighed again, reaching out to grab a small object off the counter next to the sink. Slipping the little folding knife into her pocket, she rolled up her sleeves and walked out of the bathroom. Upon entering her bedroom, Mia stripped to her underclothes, tossing her professional clothes into a corner. Her eyes drifted over the expanse of her open closet, and one shirt caught her eye. Grabbing the tight black Belle & Sebastian tank top off its hanger, she quickly pulled it on, along with a pair of dark blur skinny jeans that looked good on her. Stopping to look in the full length mirror in her closet, she noticed that her look was very... not her. That was good. As she walked across the room to pick up her court clothes (which actually hadn't seen court that morning) she slipped on something smooth and hard, legs flying from under her as she was dumped suddenly on her bum. Annoyed, she snatched the offending item off the ground, scrutinizing it carefully. It was her folding knife.

"Damn thing must have fallen out of my pocket when I chucked these clothes over here." she said out loud to herself. Holding the knife in her hand made her instinctively turn her left arm forearm up. In the bright bedroom light, the long lines of pink scar tissue running all over her arms were painfully obvious. Bisecting lines, geometric shapes twisting up both arms in faint, delicate lines that Mia could remember making. She could still see herself, one arm upraised while the other sharply drew the blade across the soft skin. The warm trickle of blood running red rivers. The dizzying flood of ecstasy that always righted a problem. Even though the thought of what people would see if they knew had kept her good for six months, today's stupidity had earned her a fix. Flicking open the knife, she placed the long, deliciously sharp edge against her left arm and prepared for the wonderful, magical part of this that made everything right againWhat would Phoenix think if he knew? she asked herself. The unused blade clattered to the floor as Mia gasped in surprise at herself. Diego was always the last person she thought of before cutting. In fact, the terrible sadness she felt at thinking of him was usually what propelled her to continue, despite the shame and guilt she always felt at self- harming. But why Phoenix?She asked herself.It isn't like I actually care for him... Shut up, yes you do... But that much? ARGH! NORMAL PEOPLE DO NOT ARGUE WITH THEMSELVES! GET A GRIP! she mentally yelled at herself. Grumbling, she bent down to pick up the blade, snapped it closed, and tossed it on her bedside table. Examining her face closely, she saw that, although her eyes were still slightly red, mostly her face looked normal again. Black eyeliner went on, and Mia sat on her couch staring down the clock for the last half hour to 6'o'clock. By the time the doorbell announced Phoenix's arrival, she had prepared an elaborate excuse that could withstand cross-examination and still be accurate. Yanking open the door and ready to bail, the sight that met her eyes made her perfect excuse die on her lips. Phoenix was smiling wide and holding a single yellow rose (the color of which did not escape her), which he handed to her before enfolding her in a hug.

"Mia!" he exclaimed. "How are you?" The question of the day! She thought grumpily, I can turn him away now... It'd be like stomping on a butterfly!

"I'm just fine Phoenix! How are you?" she asked brightly, faking a smile as she reached out to take his hand. He pulled away and shut the door quickly.

"Somethings wrong," he said, "What is it?" he asked gently. His genuine concern opened her up in a way she thought only Diego could. Feeling tears build up behind her eyes, she threw herself at him and let herself cry.

A/N: Okay! That's over with. Actually, I based this on my life in a lot of little ways. Like the Belle & Sebastian tank top. I owned a black Belle & Sebastian tank top that I wore to death. Recently, I had to give it away. Sniffle. So, I immortalized it, so I can share my joy with the world. The joy of owning a shirt that you have a special bond with...