Mistakes

Summary: Everyone makes mistakes. For prosecutors Emily Markham and Miles Edgeworth, one misunderstanding brings about a mistake that could end rather disastrously.

Diclaimer: I don't own Phoenix Wright or Apollo Justice or Miles Edgeworth. I only own copies of the first two games and Edgey's game. Must… play… Apollo… Justice! (for some reason, I seem to have fallen in love with the perceiving defense attorney.

Edgeworth: T.T)

Anywho, this takes place post Apollo Justice (even though I haven't played the game, I know all of the spoilers and such xD). Nick was admitted to the bar again. And I…kinda twisted and pulled at the Perceive System… a little bit. I know its supposed to be watching body language to expose lies, but… I'mma take it a step further. You'll see. :D

BTW, spoilers abound! LOOK OUT!

Warning: There is coarse language in this chapter.

"I hate you, Miles Edgeworth!"

Miles stood in front of her, his head bowed, his fists shaking in anger. Deep down, he knew he deserved whatever she threw at him. His head throbbed in pain from the wound he had received from that assassin. A low snarl rose up from his chest, and he suddenly wished he had Franziska's whip right now.

Miles felt the world spin around him, but forced himself to stay conscious. He had defied the doctor's orders, wanting to see her as soon as possible. However, he had been greeted with a slap across the face, coupled with two deep scratches running across his cheek. He didn't want to admit it, but right now he was terrified of the woman that stood across from him. No one, not the court, nor the people she worked with, nor even Miles himself had seen her this angry.

"You're stupid." She growled, "Fucking retarded. I told you to not get yourself wrapped up in my affairs."

"How can I not? I'm not allowed to worry about my—"

"Es war deine shuld! Sie haben kein recht etwas zu sagen!"

"I…it was a tough choice!"

"It must have. If you hadn't gotten involved… it's your fault he's dead. Real smooth, Edgeworth." The sting of being called by his last name, especially by her, bit him.

"LISTEN. I put my life on the line for you, and this is how you thank me? By slapping me and shouting at me?" he snarled.

"If you had just stayed out of it, none of this shit would have happened! Mein Vater konnte am Leben geblieben sind!" She yelled.

People walking past the office slowed down and stared, wondering what the two prosecutors could be arguing about. Klavier felt a shiver go down his spine as he and Ema traveled to the elevator together (much to Ema's displeasure).

"What are they arguing about?" Ema asked. Klavier looked away; he had heard about the incident.

"It is best if we stay out of it, Fraulein."

"GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY OFFICE!"

There was a loud bang, startling both prosecutor and detective. The first thing to go through Ema's mind was that a gunshot had been fired. She spun around, reaching for the handle of the door, when Klavier grabbed her almost protectively.

"I wouldn't do that. Herr Edgeworth and Fraulein Emily seem to be having a lover's quarrel."

"…sounds more than just a quarrel to me." Ema muttered as the sound of glass breaking resounded through the door.

"Emily! Listen to me!"

"ICH SAGTE DIR HOLEN AUS MEINEM BÜRU DU ARSCH!" Emily screamed.

"Fine."

Klavier pulled Ema into his office, and the two curiously poked their heads out as Miles stepped out of the office.

"I don't ever want to see you again, Miles Edgeworth." Emily snarled darkly.

"Whatever." Miles shot back. As he stormed passed the prosecutor and detective (both were absolutely confused and terrified at this point), the two could see marks on his face. Some of them were bleeding, particularly a nasty cut at his hairline.

"Mr—MMPH!" Klavier slapped a hand over Ema's mouth as the prosecutor stepped into the elevator. Both of them stared in astonishment; Edgeworth never used the elevator.

Ema began to squirm against Klavier's hand, saying something like "Glimmerous fop, let go of me right now!". Klavier released his hold on Ema, and she sank to the floor.

"…what happened between those two?"

Klavier gave Ema a serious look, which startled the detective. She had never seen him with that expression on his face before; whatever happened must have been very serious.

"Sit down, Fraulein. And do not tell anyone about this, ja?"

Ema sat down in Klavier's comfortable office chair as the prosecutor stared out the window, sighing deeply.

"I'm quite sure you know how Fraulein Emily is from Germany, ja?" Ema nodded, "Well, she was an orphan for most of her life. Her mother had die when she was young, and…she was taken from her vater when she was five. After she turned ten, her foster parents decided they didn't want her anymore."

Ema was about to ask a question, but the look on Klavier's face kept her silent.

"She apparently bounced from family to family, until she decided to live on her own. But that's not as important. She never really knew her parents. And now, she'll never know her papa."

Ema's hands flew up to her mouth. "You mean…"

Klavier looked down. "Ja. An assassin by the name of Jack de Killer held her papa hostage, and threatened to kill him if she did not agree to his proposition."

"Which was they trade, her for her father." It dawned on Ema.

Klavier nodded. "Ja. Of course, Jack de Killer had been hired to kill Frau Emily. And he would have, had Herr Edgeworth not stepped in."

"So why is she so mad at him?"

Klavier shrugged. "I believe the Fraulein was ready to die. She didn't want Herr Edgeworth caught in her affairs. He was almost killed trying to save her." A dry chuckle escaped his lips, "Believe it or not, Frau Emily doesn't like to be worried over. She would not have been able to live with herself if he had died. But, because he had saved her, her papa was killed."

Ema looked at the wall that stood between them and Emily. No doubt the prosecutor would be deeply upset.

A loud crash startled both of them. Without thinking, Ema flung open the door to Klavier's office, running next door.

"Fraulein Detektiv, wait!" Klavier called out, but his warning was ignored.

Ema carefully opened the door. "It's just me," She said, seeing Emily poised to strike out again. The detective carefully avoided the pieces of glass that littered the floor. The large office chair (do all prosecutor's get super-comfortable chairs? Ema thought) was overturned, and the sole occupant of the room was sitting on couch, blood dripping from her hands.

"Prosecutor Markham…" Ema said worriedly. She kneeled in front of the still prosecutor, gasping. Emily was clutching a piece of glass in her hands, and it was digging deep into her skin. She carefully pried Emily's hands away from the glass, tossing the bloody piece to the side as she noticed something flutter to the ground. Ema carefully picked it up, being careful not to smear the blood that was already on the picture.

The picture was of Emily and Miles. They were at some sort of fair. Miles had his arm around Emily, and both sported huge grins. She gently laid the picture on her desk. Whatever had really happened must have angered Emily to the core.

"Prosecutor Markham?"

Emily didn't respond, but she looked up. Ema could see the pain reflecting in her eyes. The detective carefully wrapped her arms around the prosecutor in a hug, but she didn't respond. She just stared blankly at the bookshelf, her normally cheerful brown eyes dull and lifeless.

Releasing the prosecutor from her hug, Ema pulled out some bandages and carefully cleaned and wrapped Emily's hands. She knew the prosecutor wouldn't be writing for a day or so, at least until the wound had healed. After she was done, she left the prosecutor to her own devices, hoping she would be okay.

Miles sat on the bench, one hand clenched to his heart. "Its your fault he's dead." "My father would still be alive!"

The passerby glanced at Edgeworth, and whispers started among them. He put his head down, trying to hide behind his bangs. He was terribly ashamed for trying to hide, but he didn't want people to see how much pain he was in. He felt his heart tighten, and he blinked furiously. He would not cry. The last time he had cried was under von Karma, and he had been severely…reprimanded for it. He would not show weakness.

The prosecutor clambered to his feet, one hand still clutching at his heart. A young girl, at least seventeen, gave him a curious look.

"Are you okay?"

Miles turned his eyes away. She reminded him of her. Gritting his teeth, he forced out "I'm fine" before gently pushing past her.

To his dismay, it started to rain. The water, or "Dihydrogen Monoxide", as Detective Skye would call it (1), flattened his hair and drenched him to the bone, depressing the prosecutor even further. People who gave him a sideways glance would have thought the great Miles Edgeworth was crying.

He certainly felt like it.

Part of him, the old him, wanted to shove everything aside and simply go to work the next day, as if nothing had happened. The old him didn't care.

Unfortunately, the new feelings Miles was having were swiftly wearing him down.

Once he got into his apartment, he stripped off his soaking clothes, changing into sweatpants and a t-shirt. He then picked up his cellphone, calling the one person who could help him, even at this moment.

(1) Dihydrogen Monoxide IS water. It's the one thing I learned in Chemistry that I actually remember.