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I-if anyone has a moment, I'm having a small problem. [This was the understatement of the millennium.]

I'd like to ask how...h-how...er...forgive me, I am having some trouble articulating things today. [Diarmuid adjusted the glasses he wore, seeming hesitant to look directly at the camera at first.]

Imagine one that...has gone through life without anger or hatred. This individual had never felt spite, resentment, or even a shred of those kind of things. He did all he could to put others and their happiness before himself and his own, finding contentment and joy in doing so. But after a certain point, that person...he found someone that did something so deplorable that it left that person filled with rage and spite.

He found someone that he hated. And no matter how he tried, that person could not simply forgive what was done to earn that hatred.

I beg of you, Prospero. Someone please tell me how that person can go back to the way he was. Before he could feel anger and spite, back when he could still grant forgiveness.

[Diarmuid looked away for a moment; he was unsure, even worried.]

Fionn, Grainne-- [Gods, what would they think of him when they knew?] ...there is something I have not yet told you. Forgive me for not doing so until now.

Arturia... [Another pause. She had been there when he had died, she knew the horrible rage he had unleashed that day. Cursing her, Kayneth, Kiritsugu, even the Grail itself. Again he worried that she must secretly detest such a hateful spirit.] When you have the time...I would like to speak with you. Please.

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I'm fine.

It would accomplish nothing. And he isn't worth the effort.

...would you? I'm in my hotel room.

[It could never truthfully be said that Diarmuid wasn't clever. He was brilliant by any era's standards, and so it took only a moment's thought before he followed things through to the most logical conclusion.]

...you were...betrayed by your mentor, weren't you? [There was a look on his face that was at once sympathetic and yet clearly understanding on some strange level.]

Make no mistake, Diarmuid -- I expected neither mercy nor sympathy from him in court. What did come as a surprise, however, is the truth of the matter: he orchestrated Robert Hammond's murder as part of an elaborate scheme of vengeance. He raised and educated me not for the sake of his legacy or the suffering of still more criminals; rather, he wished to see me rise to fame and infamy, and then fall in the public eye and be executed for murder -- whether Robert Hammond's, or my father's. He saw to it that my natural tendency towards isolation was reinforced; it was his intention that once that day came, I would have no one to turn to.

...I am so sorry, Edgeworth.

[Nothing even he'd lived through could quite match up to that. Fionn's betrayal came close in the end, but it wasn't quite as extreme.]

Like so many high crimes, it all revolved around hatred. [Edgeworth's slipping composure reveals anger giving way to despair as he leans his head on his hand again.] Von Karma's hatred of my father for putting the slightest scratch upon his record led him to... to murder Father when power returned and the e-elevator door opened before him to reveal our unconscious forms and... a-and the very gun I'd thrown. And yet, to see Father dead did not satisfy him -- he went so far as to attempt to manipulate my life into ruins in order to sate his thirst for vengeance! My own hatreds... he recognized them as weapons that he could use against me. E-even in my own murder trial... he knew that should I be found innocent of the murder of Robert Hammond, the incident would stoke my doubts and cause me to... to mistakenly confess to causing Father's death.

I-if not for Wright, I...

...I wish I knew what to say, Edgeworth. You and I seem strangely similar, and yet the differences are numerous enough that I find myself utterly at a loss for what consolation I could possibly give.

[Nearly offended:] I am not telling you this in order to earn your sympathy, Diarmuid. [More neutrally:] I merely recognize that hatred is defining of my life. It is my hope that in coming to understand it, you can better understand hatred itself, including that which haunts you now.

Ah...of course, I'm sorry. It's just--no, forget it.

Tell me, then, how is it exactly that one is meant to stop such hatred from overcoming them? How do you live with it?

You sure?

Just a moment.

[And in a few minutes, he'll be there, knocking.]

No, but I'd rather not get a hug from you.

I didn't say from me.

[Diarmuid opened the door to let him in, looking exhausted and somewhat shaken.]

Patience, Diarmuid -- there is much of my case yet to be presented. Furthermore, the additional perspective on hatred itself may be of use in forming your own conclusions.

[Have a hug, you poor woobie.]

My apologies. Go ahead, I'm listening.

[Okay fine, he could totally use a hug.]

...it's good to see you too.

I'd rather not discuss it with you regardless.

Come, let us go inside.

[He is going to gesture at Diarmuid to follow him inside the tavern.]

Of course. [He'd just follow because of course alcohol solves things.]

Sounds like he doesn't deserve your like or respect, then.

Fine, fiiine.

You shouldn't have to go through this, Niisan. You don't deserve this pain.

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