A/N: After being obsessed with the Ace Attorney series for several months, I finally decided to write a fic based on it. I hope you all enjoy it.

Warnings: one-shot, contains spoilers for Trials and Tribulations, contains course language

Disclaimer: I don't own the Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney (a.k.a. Gyakuten Saiban) video game series or its characters. Capcom owns them.

Death and Rebirth

Diego Armando slowly opened his eyes and immediately sensed that something was horribly wrong. He was sure that his eyes were open, but he couldn't see anything. His hands felt the area around him in order obtain some sort of clue as to where he was at. It seemed as if he was on some sort of bed, and after hearing the beeping of nearby machines, he eventually came to the conclusion that he was at a hospital.

"Doctor, I think the patient has awoken!"

Diego turned his head towards the voice, yet he could still see nothing except for a faint sliver of movement. As he heard the noise of footsteps come towards him, he tried to remember what had happened and why he was at a hospital. After a few seconds, his memories began to return.

He remembered sitting in the court's café and having a conversation with… someone. 'Who was it that I was meeting?' Suddenly, a face and a name popped into his mind. It was a young lady whose angelic appearance hid her demonic intentions. 'Yes, it was Dahlia Hawthorne,' he thought as his mind pieced everything together. He remembered talking to her and taking a sip from his coffee cup. Then, everything suddenly faded to black. Could she have slipped something into his drink?

"Mr. Armando?" called out a voice that interrupted Diego's thoughts, "It seems that you have finally regained consciousness. How are you feeling?"

Diego turned towards the voice of what he assumed was a doctor and replied, "Okay, I guess. However, my vision is as dark as the coffee I drink."

The doctor examined the patient for a few minutes before he came to a conclusion. "Mr. Armando, I'm afraid that what I have to say may be rather difficult to hear. It seems that the poison that you have ingested may have damaged your sight. Now, we still have to perform a series of tests, but I'm afraid that there is a good chance you may never see again without some sort of assistance device."

Silence grew within the room as Diego absorbed the doctor's words. After a while, he broke the silence with a muttered "I see" and he attempted to sit up in the bed. "Please, Mr. Armando," pleaded the doctor, "Do not do anything rash. You have been in a coma for quite a while and your body is not used to moving. You will probably need a bit of intense therapy before your body can function normally again."

After a few more minutes of silence, Diego finally asked the question that was bugging him. "How long have I been out?"

"Believe it or not, you have been unconscious for about five years," answered the doctor. "In fact, most of the staff had given up hope that you would ever wake up. I guess you could say it is a miracle that you woke up after all this time. The fact that you are even still alive is surprising given the type of poison you ingested. Anyways, I will let you rest for now and will schedule therapy sessions that will start in two to three days from now. I will see you soon, Mr. Armando."

As he heard the doctor leave, a single thought ran through his mind. 'Five years? How could I been in a coma for five years?' In a way, however, it did make sense. It explained why his voice sounded hoarse and why he could barely move. Still, the thought that five years of his life had been forever stolen from him was somewhat depressing. Yet, there nothing he could do to get those missing moments back; so, the only thing he could do was to move forward and try to recover as quickly as possible.

Two weeks passed by as Diego's recovery therapy commenced. The doctors and nurses were all impressed by the rate that Diego was progressing. Though the nurses still had to push him around in a wheelchair, he was now able to move his hands and arms to the point that could now grab and hold things. Recently he was cleared to eat solid foods, and, to his delight, he could now drink coffee as well. The hospital coffee tasted like crap but since he didn't have one in five years, he found himself enjoying it despite the bad taste.

One of the challenges Diego had to face was learning how to eat and drink while blind. Earlier on, he had dropped food and even a couple of cups of coffee on himself. Fortunately, he learned to rely on his sense of smell; thus, the number of accidents diminished. He was also pleased to learn that a specially designed visor was in the process of being made for him so that he could see again. However, it would be a month or so before it would be ready for use; so, he was stuck in the darkness until then.

One day, Diego was drinking a cup of coffee and waiting for his next therapy session when a nurse announced that he had a visitor. After hearing a familiar sounding clearing of the throat, Diego didn't need to see the person to know who it was. It wasn't the person that he wanted to come, but at least it was someone he knew. "It's been a long time, hasn't it, Mr. Grossberg?"

"Ah, Diego Armando," replied Grossberg, "I was quite surprised when I had learned that you had regained consciousness. We were all convinced that you would never wake up after consuming that dreadful poison. Anyways, how are you holding up?"

"I guess I'm fine considering the circumstances," answered Diego. After a few seconds, he decided it was time to ask the one question that had been bothering him for the past couple of days. "By the way, how's Mia?"

Based on Grossberg's hesitation to answer the question, Diego had a terrible feeling that something was wrong. In fact, he had his suspicions for quite some time. At first, he figured that the reason why Mia had not visited him was because she didn't even know that he had awakened yet. As the days passed by, however, he started to wonder if there was another reason that she hadn't visited him. Was she so busy that she didn't have time to visit him? Did she move to another city? Had she moved on with her life and no longer cared about what happened to him? All of those questions floated around his mind, but there was one that plagued him more than the others: Did something happen to her?

"I'm sorry, Diego" began Grossberg, "but… Mia Fey is… no longer among the living."

Suddenly, a loud crash was heard as the coffee cup Diego was holding flew across the room and smashed against the opposite wall. The startled Grossberg turned his head to see a large coffee stain flow down the wall. Shards of the broken cup littered the floor beneath the stained wall. Grossberg then turned his attention to the man on the hospital bed that had an unrecognizable expression on his face. Figuring that it was probably best to let Diego to sort everything himself, Grossberg quickly said his goodbyes and left the room.

Diego was still thinking about what Grossberg had told him. Mia Fey, the woman he loved, was dead. Part of him refused to believe it, but he knew deep down that it was true. As he continued to process that information in his mind, Diego began to search around for his coffee. It took a few minutes before he vaguely remembered throwing his coffee cup and hearing a crashing sound. Upon having this realization, a small grim smile formed on Diego's lips.

After all, the coffee cup wasn't the only thing that shattered.

Despite the sadness that filled his heart, Diego wouldn't allow himself cry. No, he would save his tears until the very end. First, he would have to finish his recovery, and then he would track down the person responsible for Mia's death and make them pay!

A few months later, Diego was finally able to leave the hospital. Due to his new visor, he could now see again. However, even this technology had its limits, and Diego soon found that he was unable to see the color red, especially in front of a white background. Despite a few inconveniences that this caused, he learned to cope with it.

As he began to put his life together, Diego began to look into Mia's death. He quickly discovered that her killer, a man by the name of Redd White, was already behind bars. While Diego was relieved that Mia's killer had been caught and dealt with, he was still unsatisfied with the fact that he couldn't get vengeance on that bastard himself.

After reading the file a couple more times, Diego noted that Mia had an apprentice named Phoenix Wright. 'Why wasn't this Phoenix Wright there to protect her?' The more he thought about it, the more Diego's anger grew. It was his pride that kept him from realizing the truth that perhaps deep down he blamed himself for Mia's death. After all, if he had not fallen into Dahlia's trap he might have been there to save Mia. However, Diego was just too prideful to accept that; thus, he shifted his blame towards Phoenix.

Placing the file down, Diego decided to leave his desk and freshen up. As he walked by a nearby mirror, he stopped and took a good look at himself. He soon realized that he barely recognized his own reflection. Thanks to a side effect from the poison, Diego's once dark hair was now stark white, and his eyes were now covered by his visor. Also, due to his inability to see red, he had to trade his favorite red shirt for a green one. Even his coffee drinking habits had changed, albeit slightly. After all, he had been drinking coffee in more frequently and in bitterer flavors.

It was as if part of him had died and was reborn as a different person.

Since that day, Diego decided to switch from being a defense attorney to a prosecutor. As a prosecutor, it would be easier to get the chance to face Phoenix Wright in court. He also decided to go by a different identity as well. After all, he was no longer the man he used to be; thus, he needed a new name. In his attempts to think of a new identity, a memory popped into his head about a play he once saw with Mia called "Waiting for Godot."

That was when Diego more or less ceased to exist, and Godot rose from the ashes.

Shortly after successfully becoming a prosecutor, Godot soon had his first case. The defendant was Ron DeLite and the defense attorney was none other than Phoenix Wright. As childish as it was, Godot couldn't help but imagine a hot cup of coffee being poured on Phoenix's head. While preparing for the trial ahead, he murmured to himself, "Soon we shall meet face to face, Mr. Trite."

With that said, he took another sip of his bitter coffee.