Made By Kali

Title: The Wright Thing To Do
Pairing: None, references to Maya/Nick, Edgeworth/Nick
Rating: PG-ish
Summary: What exactly was it that caused Phoenix Wright to go on such a long hiatus? A case in a little known place called LazyTown helps convince him that everyone else is crazy.
Spoilers: Probably AA/JFA. Although this is set after GS3 chronologically, I haven’t played the game, so it will probably be a bit AU for those of you who have.

Part One

Phoenix awoke with the birds’ singing in his ears, the sun streaming in his eyes and Maya’s elbow jammed in his ear. He wasn’t confused by the last issue, she had been flailing around in her sleep and screaming about ‘the puppet invasion’, but the first two caught him by surprise. Where the hell is the tent?

His back was a giant mess of knotted muscle and bruises where Maya had kicked him during the night. He eased himself into a sitting position and tried to get a look around. It was possible that his assistant’s thrashing had knocked the tent over, in which case he could probably set it up again fast enough to get some more sleep.

He spotted a suspiciously fuchsia pile a few feet away, but when he tried to reach it without leaving the relative comfort of his sleeping bag, a young voice yelled out, “It’s mine!”

The new owner of the tent stomped over to stand atop his acquisition. He was wearing a old-fashioned yellow suit and clutching a piggy-bank to his chest. “Don’t touch it, this tent belongs to me.”

No, no it doesn’t. “Actually, I think that tent belongs to Stephanie,” Phoenix said mildly. Behind him, Maya stirred, but didn’t wake.

“No, it’s miiiine.” The boy pointed to his chest in case Phoenix didn’t understand the possessive pronoun. “It’s all mine. Piggy is mine. This tent is mine. Those sleeping bags are mine. All your base is mine.”

“Wait, what?” Phoenix couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Maybe the poor kid has some sort of kleptomania.

The boy marched over to where Maya was still sleeping and tugged on one corner of her sleeping bag, obviously ignoring Phoenix. “Mine!”

Maya sprung up like a jack-in-the-box. She swung out, knocking their visitor head over heels. “They’re gonna eat me!” she shrieked, eyes wide and glassy. After a few gasping breaths, she blinked a few times and then seemed to come back to reality. “Whew, what a dream. I dreamt I was fighting off a mob of angry puppets. Whoa, what happened to your hair?”

Phoenix sighed and felt the limp, mangled spikes at the back of his head. “Our tent has been appropriated.” Phoenix pointed to the remains of their sleeping arrangements and then to the fallen boy, who was wiping the gravel off of his shorts. “I suppose we should get going anyway,” he added with a yawn.

Maya nodded. She had actually slept in her medium costume, she claimed it was just like a nightshirt anyway, so she didn’t have much to do in the way of getting ready. He, however, did not find his cheap suit quite as comfortable to sleep in. He’d have to change out of his “pajamas” (a pair of old sweatpants and an undershirt) before they could get anything done.

“Get away from my suitcase!” he yelled, just as he spotted a small pair of hands grab for the handle. “That suitcase is mine.”

“Geez… you’re uptight today,” Maya remarked, staring at him like he’d grown three heads.

He opened his mouth to reply, but thought better of it. Why argue and waste valuable time they could be using to get the hell out of town?

“Oh good, you’re up,” came a cheerful voice. Stephanie marched into view, followed closely by Pearl. Both girls looked awake, freshly showered and way too chipper for that early in the morning. “Uncle made pancakes, if you’d like some.”

Phoenix didn’t even have to look at Maya to know what her answer would be. “Actually, could I hop in your shower?” he asked.

“Sure,” Stephanie said, “I’ll show you where it is.”

While her “boss” showered, Maya took advantage of the Meanswell family hospitality. “These are really good,” she managed through a mouthful of syrup and butter.

“Uncle” whom Stephanie found out was actually the mayor, looked pleased. “I love to cook. In fact, I love to cook almost as much as I love bacon.” He added another four strips of the salty stuff to his plate. “Of course, I don’t get to eat it very often.”

“If I could, I would eat bacon at every meal,” Maya replied.

“Sportacus says that bacon isn’t good for you if you eat it everyday,” Stephanie said, taking a swig of orange juice.

“Sportacus?” Pearl asked.

“Sportacus is our resident above-average-hero, you know,” Mayor Meanswell said proudly, before stealing another two strips of bacon.

“Resident…hero?” Maya stopped chewing for a second. “If you have a town hero, why couldn’t he have helped you?”

“You see…Sportacus is actually the person in trouble.” Stephanie’s mood did an immediate one-eighty. “He’s in real trouble and we can’t help him, but maybe you can.”

“Do I smell bacon?” Phoenix asked as he wandered into the kitchen.

“Yes,” Pearl chirruped. “Maya ate your share, Mr. Nick. She has to keep her energy up.” Pearl gave him an adorable grin that almost made up for the wink that accompanied it.

“So tell me more about Sportacus,” Maya said quickly.

“Well, Sportacus came to LazyTown because everyone was being lazy. Now he helps us get moving, and keeps everyone safe,” Stephanie explained. “Or he would if he weren’t in jail.”

“In jail?” Pearl asked.

“Awaiting trial,” explained the mayor, guiltily slipping the last slice of bacon onto the serving platter. “Unfortunately there was a … little incident. It’s the first time LazyTown will hold a trial in about fifteen years.”

“Fifteen years?” Phoenix exclaimed. “What have your police been doing all this time?”

“We don’t actually have any police officers,” Mayor Meanswell admitted. “Or a jailer. Or a judge. Or any lawyers…”

“So how is this trial going to work?” Maya said. “You can’t really have a trial without those.”

“As mayor, I’ll be the judge. And we’ll hire a prosecutor. I guess.” The mayor looked thoughtful. “Oh, and you’ll be the defense.”

Unfortunately. “Where exactly are you keeping our client?” All he got was a bunch of blank looks. “This ‘Spartacus’.”

“Sportacus,” Maya corrected him.

“Well, we do have a jail!” Mayor Meanswell announced cheerfully. “When we’re done eating, I’ll let you see him.”