I wrote this for Valentine's Day. :P

Much love for Phoenix Wright.

And now, back to working on Turnabout Roles.

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"Why must you be so foolish, Miles Edgeworth?"

The dark haired prosecutor looked up from his paperwork with a scowl, setting it down as he glowered at his younger 'sister' that had just stepped conveniently into his office, her whip out and brandished in her hands. He watched Franziska take a few flexes of her wrists with the whip carefully before holding it in her hand, and then looked at him, moving a strand of turquoise hair from her face carefully, and meticulously. "Why, hello to you too, Franziska," he greeted in a slightly irritated matter. "Tell me, what honor do I have of—"

"You're being foolish, Miles, in even thinking of returning back to being a prosecutor." The words were spoken coldly as she glared at him, putting a hand on her hip. Miles noticed that it was the one in which held the whip. "You're doing successful in France. Why would you want to come back here?"

Miles sighed as he glanced back at the case file, and at all the paperwork that was on his desk. "I have my reasons."

"Reasons?" Franziska spat out. "Would it be him that you came back for?" The whip came into both hands once more as she met her 'brother' with a piercing stare. "I don't understand you, Miles. You're giving up everything for him?"

Miles shook his head as he scooped up the files and glanced at the tops of the pages, as if he was looking for something. In truth, he did not want to have this conversation with his 'sister'. Rather, he wanted to something done that he was working on before the end of the day. "I'm not giving up everything, per se . . ." A smirk played on his lips as he saw her still scowl at him. "I still have my practice in France, Franziska. I just thought we would switch the roles for a while, if you want to call it that."

"So you're relieving me of my duties here, then." The woman sounded disappointed, and a bit angry at the same time. "Undermining me, is that it? Could you hurt—"

"Being a prosecutor," Miles said calmly, "does not require perfection, Franziska."

Her eyes widened at his statement and she flicked her wrist, almost whipping Miles, but pulled back quickly, before the whip even licked his skin. "It doesn't?"

"No. It doesn't." Miles smirked as he put the files down and adjusted his cravat. "It requires something, but not about being perfect, or having another win on your record. I thought that—once."

"So why are you taking over here, if you know you cannot have a perfect record, Miles?" Franziska asked him. "You were a von Karma. Now, you're not even worthy of having that."

"But that's where you're mistaken," he answered, seeing that her whip was now back on her hip, along with her hand. "I'm not Miles von Karma, as much as Manfred von Karma tried. I've always been Miles Edgeworth. And with that, there are flaws of imperfection." Miles tilted his head to look at her, and smirked softly. "I've come to accept those flaws of imperfection."

"So I see," Franziska said tersely. "Is one of these flaws adding things to your desk that do not belong, Miles?" She pointed to something on the polished desk that was half open, and it had pink sparkles on it. " . . . foolish cards like that have no place on your desk."

"On the contrary," the man retorted, adjusting his cravat as he moved his neck. "It blends in with the color of the room rather well." Hiding a smile, the man returned to his paperwork. "Now, if you have nothing that you need—"

"But what IS that?" Franziska asked, now curious as to what it was. She took a careful step forward and Miles felt the clop of her heel as she grabbed the item in question off his desk. At seeing what it was, she dropped it back on the desk and made a sound of disgust. "A Valentine's Day card?"

"I believe that's what they call them, yes." Miles looked up and raised an eyebrow. "Now, I believe you should leave. You're taking enough time away from the case that I have to prosecute tomorrow."

"But—a Valentine's Day card?"

"Franziska. You can muse over the card outside my office." His eyes glared at her, and he tapped the desk in an annoyed matter. "In fact, I can discuss it with you later on. Just get out of my office so I can work."

Dark eyes glared at him, and she knew that he was not going to tell her what was in the card. She could reach over and take it, but had the feeling that Miles might actually yell at her for taking something from his desk again. And so, turning on her heel, Franziska walked out of the office, slamming the door loudly behind her.

Making sure the woman was gone, Miles had taken the card and opened it, thankful that she did not look at what was inside. In truth, he had only just noticed it—he was so engrossed with his case. He surmised that someone put it there when he was not looking, and then crept out of his office. Glancing at it, Miles allowed a rare smile to come to his lips.

"Everyone needs a Valentine—so maybe—I could be yours, if you wanted."

That was all the card said, but it said enough as Miles put it back on the desk and back at its place, where it was before Franziska touched it. The smile disappeared off his lips as he found the thing he was hiding in his stack of papers—a little card of his own that he had made Detective Gumshoe pick up at a local grocery store near the precinct. He grabbed a pen and opened the card, noting that it was blank inside. Steadying his hand, Miles scrawled a message into it, checking it over to make sure that it was legible.

"Only if you agree to dinner—and stop trying to make me eat those cheap instant noodle packets. Don't try to pay—for once, you're not going to win."

He left the note unsigned, as he did not need to sign the heart shaped card that Gumshoe got for him to leave the message on. Miles closed the item quickly, shoving it back in with the rest of the autopsy report that he was glancing at. He had made a copy of it and had it all set aside in the folder that was closed on the other side of his desk. Now, opening it, he safety pinned it to a paper that was in the middle of the four page report, making sure that it was carefully hidden in the pile.

When he was done, he closed the folder, and moved his hand over to the phone that was in his office, picking it up and putting to his ear. He then dialed a series of ten numbers and waited as it rung three times. He was greeted by a familiar voice on the other line. "Hey, pal! I was wondering what took you so long—"

"Detective," Miles started, "just how far away from the office are you?"

"Not far. Actually, we just got out of the meetin' about the case that's going on." Miles noted that he did not sound too happy to be talking about it, but sounded happier as he asked his next question. "Why, what's going on, boss?"

"I need you to do me a favor."

"I was stoppin' by to grab that autopsy report from you. Wright is here, and I told him to come later today after that meetin' so that I could give it to him."

Miles smiled for just a brief moment. "Perfect. You can stop on by now and pick it up, Detective. I'll be here for a little while."

"You mean, now? But Wright—"

"Wright can wait a few minutes while you come and get the report. There's no way I'm letting him in my office. I expect you here in a few minutes." With that, he hung up the phone and picked up the papers that he was working on, looking at them and smirked as he did so.

It was a few moments later when he heard a knock on the door and had it startle him out of the report that he was reading. Miles glanced up briefly as another knock was heard and then called, "You can come in, Detective."

The door opened, and Gumshoe's grin came in spades as he closed the door behind him. "You got the report ready, boss? He seems anxious."

"He does, does he?" Miles sounded bored as he glanced to the detective. "Well, he won't be in a few minutes. That report is rather long." He moved his arm to grab the folder and handed it to Detective Gumshoe. "Besides, he should be lucky he's getting to see it this early."

"I think he is—but he refused to leave, even after I said I'd stop by his office to give it to him." The man took a breath as he took the report. "Thanks, boss. I'll get going to give it to him now."

"No, thank you, Detective." With that, Miles went back to his paperwork and saw Detective Gumshoe scurry out the door, waiting until it was closed until he picked up the phone again and let his fingers play over the number pad once more. After two rings, he heard someone pick up the phone. Not bothering with pleasantries, he stated, "I just sent him the report. You should have it soon."

"Oh, alright. Thanks, Edgeworth." And the phone clicked, indicating the call was finished, just as quickly as the conversation started.

Miles huffed as he pressed another set of numbers, closing his eyes as he did so. He had remembered his number pad by heart, with as many people as he had to call to straighten up their screw up of his reports. But as he heard the phone ring, and a pleasant voice greet him on the phone, he said, "Yes, I'd like to reserve a table." A pause. "No, just two." Then, after another series of questions, he answered, "What name? Put it under Wright." He hung up the phone after the line died.

He once thought like Franziska, that Valentine's Day was for those who were indulged in forever. In those who would pledge their love, and never would allow anything to shatter their reality. And while he knew Wright was the one who wanted the forever—

Miles could live with wanting that. If he could shatter his perception, and only have him, one day at a time.

And that, Miles thought, was alright—because he did not need to say he loved him, directly. He knew Wright would get it—because that was just the way he was.

And, despite all his flaws, and imperfections—it was the way he chose to be. And Miles smiled, knowing that it was not so bad to be flawed after all.