Diego Armando lived on for a short while after he came back from the dead. He felt anger, fuelled by several different things – I want coffee right NOW, that murdering BITCH, my hair is WHITE, I'm BLIND - but wasn't living on hate, not yet. Dahlia Hawthorne was locked up, he learned. His kitten had won. Not yet.

He learned that he had been asleep for quite some time.

He learned that he had been poisoned, and that his blindness was incurable but he would be able to see with the aid of some 'innovative new technology', eg. a sort of visor thing that looked like it had previously spent its days as a toaster.

He asked for Mia. The doctor told him.

Diego blinked, and nodded. Everything he had to say –stupid stupid idiot you you failed you should have PROTECTED her you IDIOT you BASTARD she DIED WHILE YOU WERE SLEEPING Mia Fey is DEAD Diego Armando DIEGO ARMANDO DIEGO ARMANDO, you failure, you fool, she's DEAD, she's gone, no no no –

Was said in the privacy of his own head. Diego Armando suffocated under the weight of the words.

He held back tears until the doctor left, presumably to fetch the Toaster. Then he continued to hold back his tears, because a lawyer doesn't cry, right, and he was still a lawyer – SHE'S DEAD, DIEGO ARMANDO! – and continued to condemn his own name. Diego Armando burned up and died in the face of his own fury, and Godot lived.

He liked the name. They had watched the play, 'Waiting for Godot', when everything was back then. He remembered how they were sitting there. Waiting for Godot.

Mia had waited for five damn years. He had to arrive now. If he'd been awake –

No, no, but it's ...it's not his fault he had been poisoned! Not his fault! Godot hadn't failed, and by extension, killed Mia Fey. Godot was innocent.

He put on the Toaster. The doctor explained that this was a prototype, of a sort. There were flaws. Well, at least he wasn't blind. Then he got up and left the hospital. His clothes hadn't been sold, thankfully, but the red of his shirt paled when placed next to his cream vest and he decided to dye it green later. He went to the bank and withdrew enough money to buy some quality coffee – his account was intact. Then he bought some coffee. He found a block of apartments for rent and hired the best one. He had no idea where all his belongings had gone – he supposed he just was lucky his clothes were in his possession – so he did a little shopping, including the purchase of several brands of coffee bean.

He still wasn't crying. He hoped Mia was proud.

He went down to the District Courthouse and asked about Mia Fey. He was given three videotapes, all of courtroom cases. He went back to his apartment and played the first one, entitled State vs Wright.

Godot watched his kitten take down that murderess Hawthorne, and cheered her on in his head, and took a swig of coffee. Such a defendant, though...concealing the evidence! What a bloody idiot. Dahlia Hawthorne could have escaped justice because of that. He wrote off Phoenix Wright as another idiot who hadn't seen through Dahlia's sugary charm, and gave a derisive sneer.

'State vs Fey' was written on the next tape. His eyes widened underneath his visor, and he nearly gasped in shock. Was this how Mia had died? Had she been framed for murder, and...

He slotted the tape into the player, and did gasp this time, when he saw that Phoenix Wright was the defense attorney of that case, and Maya Fey was the defendant. And when he found that she had been accused of the murder of Mia Fey, he drank his coffee and watched. It seemed that Mia had become a very successful attorney after he'd 'died', and had trained Wright to be a lawyer himself. The kid had definitely changed since that other case. He could even pass for competent under a bad light, and this was only his second time in court! Talent, that was. Talent like Mia had...

...And it was Wright's fault, his fault of course, that Mia was dead. Yes. Wright, that trite little man. It had been his responsibility while Godot was asleep to take care of her. And Wright had failed. Wright had failed! He wondered who the real murderer was. It wasn't Maya, not that perky little kid. No matter. Wright had failed. He glared at the man's stupid spiky pixellated hair with contempt and hate and blame. Phoenix Trite...Ha!

The trial ended after two days. He slotted in the third tape, called 'State vs Wright'.

He wanted to believe that Trite was Mia's killer. It would make it that much easier for Godot to hate him. But it was clear that Redd White was the murderer. Godot repressed his rage and hate and anger towards White – vengeance had already been delivered, even if only by Trite's hand – and channelled it into yet more hate for Trite.

He thought he saw Mia, dressed like her sister, when the camera flashed to the defense aid for a fraction of a second. Was this the Kurain Channelling Technique his kitten had been so reticent about? He remembered trying to get her to tell him about it and then he missed her so much that he nearly wept. But it wasn't over yet. It would only be over when Phoenix Trite had been punished.

He wanted to kill the man. No. He would never stoop that low.

So, he would have to settle for the next best thing. He would defeat him in court. Become a prosecutor, and defeat Trite in court! The idea was tantalising, tempting. The fool was incompetent, had no talent, of course. Could barely hold up a case. And Godot had been a defense attorney, knew all about bluffing his way through the whole damn trial, and he'd taught Mia how and Mia had taught Trite how and that's how Trite would do it. It was all a matter of style, right? And Godot would shatter Phoenix Trite like a coffee mug dropped on floor tile.

When he applied to become a prosecutor, he felt like he was letting go of the last of who he had been – Diego Armando. He had to remember that name. But this was for Mia. For Mia's memory. But sometimes he felt that Mia's memory was drowning in the hatred.

Sometimes he recalled exactly how her hair felt between his fingers – so soft and silky, it was like drawing his hand through water – and once again, nearly succumbed to the need to just break down and cry. Nearly.

A lawyer doesn't cry until it's all over… He rubbed the scars on his hand. He had crushed his mug in that hand, once. He still could remember how Mia's tears had tasted in his coffee. Salt in his coffee. Tasted terrible, it did.

You must remember Diego Armando, who was a lawyer. One of the best. Remember that? Remember who he taught. Remember Mia Fey, and how she died. Remember all this. You have to. Diego Armando isn't dead yet. Just asleep. Don't let Diego Armando die. Don't let the hate burn him away...Remember Mia Fey, and how she died. Do this for me. Remember how I died.

He thought he felt her whispering in his ear –

No. Godot cannot cry. Godot mustn't cry, not until it's over. That's the deal.

Godot met Trite, and the back of his mind thought he could almost like the guy. He was just so…well, likeable.

The way he moved reminded Godot of Mia.

Mustn't cry. Never cry. Never, never cry…

By the time it was all over, Godot had forgotten how to cry. When blood wet his cheeks, he supposed they must be his tears. But he wasn't sure until he saw Mia smiling at him through Phoenix Wright's face.

Maybe there's still some of Diego Armando left. Perhaps he hasn't yet been burnt away into ash.