The Concealed Turnabout

'Franziska.'
Miles looked at his sister, who stood in the doorway of the Von Karma household.
'Miles Edgeworth. Come in,' she replied in German and opened the door a little more in order for Miles to enter.
He had not been in this house for a few years. Nevertheless, everything was still the same. Even the scent of old wood that always hung in the house was prominently present.

Miles hung his coat on the peg in the enormous hall.
Without speaking to each other, he followed her to the kitchen, where she had already boiled water for tea.

'I already started with papa's study,' she stated and poured the hot tea in the two porcelain cups.
'That is fine, it is quite a lot of work,' Miles answered and got the sugar from the upper cabinet. During his childhood, it was always placed there and the glass jar still had the same spot after all those years. 'Shall we start right away then, Franziska? We can take our tea with us.'
'Yes, that is ok,' she replied and after Miles had put the perfect amount of sugar in the two cups, he took them both and the siblings walked towards their former mentor's study.

The house incredibly quiet. Normally in the past, the maid would be everywhere: arranging things in all rooms and sometimes he heard her humming while making dinner. Miles realized he had many memories in this house. He was sure there were still some things of him in his former bedroom. He wanted to check today as well.
Shortly after Von Karma's imprisonment, both the maid and the chauffeur were fired and the house had been empty ever since. Von Karma's execution was set in next year, however, he had suddenly died in prison two months after his guilty verdict was given due to a heart attack.

Both he and Franziska had their own homes in the States. It took the siblings a while to return to the estate, because after the truth came to light, neither he nor she wanted to be reminded of the crime of their father and mentor. Both had not talked much to each other the past three months, as they found their own ways to cope with the situation. Now this was the first time Miles came back to Germany and the enormous house. Franziska had already been there a handful of times before, but had waited for Miles to eventually clean up. The two had decided to look through his books, files and other things and then to sell the house including all furniture.

'Has your sister been to the house as well?' Miles asked her as they entered the room with the many cupboards full of books. He knew Anna von Karma vaguely, as she had only visited them a few times when he and Franziska were still young. He had not heard from her since he left for the States when he was twenty. She was the black sheep of the family, as she had decided to not become a prosecutor. On top of that, Anne was a little older than him and had her own family. They led different lives.
'No, she does not want to do anything anymore with papa. You already know that she had almost no contact with him...,' she said and received her teacup from Miles. 'And Anna has decided that she also will not even visit the house now that papa has died,' she continued.
He nodded, Miles knew the relationship between Franziska's older sister and her father had not been a good one.

Miles sat down on the chair that was previously always used for guests, because somehow he would feel strange if he sat in his former mentor's chair. Franziska looked at him was a curious look but then sat down in her father's armchair instead.

The male prosecutor saw a pile of books next to his chair and took the first one in his hands. This was likely one of the last books his mentor had read. It was about the European law systems.
'Before we start with the books...,' Franziska began and gave him a doubtful glance.
'Yes, what is it?' Miles asked her, still flipping through the law book.
'As I had said, I have already begun cleaning up a couple of cupboards... and I found something that belongs to you.'
'To me?' Miles looked up and raised one eyebrow.
Franziska swallowed, travelled to the desk and came back with two thick books.
'Those look like photo albums,' Miles commented.
'They are indeed photo albums,' Franziska said and handed him the one on top.
Miles looked at her, and then opened it. His eyes widened.
'Miles James Edgeworth, December 20th 1992' was written on the first page. His full name and birthdate were written in a recognizable handwriting. It was his father's, he knew for sure. No one had such a beautiful handwriting as Gregory Edgeworth. Miles nervously turned the page, his heartbeat rate had doubled. There he found pictures of a baby, sleeping in a crib. He recognized the crème-colored paper on the wall: this was his old bedroom. These were photos of him! He flipped further, and saw himself growing up. Every now and then his father was included on a photo as well.

Then it abruptly ended. A few pictures were not stuck in and were put loose in the album. Miles held them in his hands in order to take a better look. These were photos of Miles with a fishnet near a lake. The other photo was of his father with a fishing rod. It all came back to him now: the summer holidays in 2001 and the trip with his father. Miles was the one that made the photo of his smiling father with rolled-up sleeves and the just caught fish in his hands.
'I remember this.'

Only half of the photo album was filled with pictures, the rest was empty. There were not that many photos, as Miles was always shy when his father took them and asked him not to take too many. Some other pictures included his father and he noticed himself looking at them much longer than the ones with himself in it.
Then Miles realized it. Those were photobooks from the Edgeworth's home. The murderer of his father did not throw them away, on the contrary, he kept them in a locked up cupboard. Miles was confused and flipped through the album once more. Why did he preserve those albums so well when he hated his father and him so badly? Did he kept them for him? Did Von Karma did not have the heart to throw them away?

Miles had almost forgotten Franziska was sitting opposite of him. He likely had been looking at the photos for over half an hour, without speaking to her or giving her any attention. He eventually looked up and saw that she was glancing at him. Then, without a word, she gave him the second book she found.
'He had more pictures?' Miles said with a surprised tone in his voice.
'I wonder if you have ever seen these,' Franziska commented.

He glanced at her, not really knowing what she meant. He opened the album, where 'Spain, 1989' was written on the first page. Miles did not recognize the handwriting and looked at the photo next to it. It was a photo of his father standing next to a fountain in an old city center. He flipped the page and saw a woman now standing next to the same fountain. She had her light brown colored hair in a long ponytail and her face showed a lovely smile. The next picture was one of his father and the same woman with Gregory holding the woman close.

Miles then realized it was likely his mother that wrote the sentence 'Spain, 1989' and that this was a holiday trip of his parents.
His father had never talked about his mother in his youth. Miles had perhaps once seen a picture of her many years ago, but he did not remember her appearance. This must be his mother! Miles looked at the two standing in the Spanish city. She looked so happy, just like his father. Gregory had an arm around her shoulder, and in the other hand a city map.

Miles then turned some of the pages and found what he was looking for. His father in a neat, black suit with a bowtie and the woman in a beautiful white dress and a bouquet in her hands, the two only having eyes for each other. The next photo showed the two sharing a kiss. Yes, this was his mother. This was Jennifer Edgeworth.
The prosecutor swallowed again, inspecting the picture well.
'I thought you might want to keep these, little brother,' Franziska then spoke and folded her arms. Miles slowly nodded, still glancing down at the photo of the two of his parents sharing a wedding kiss.
'I would very much like to do so indeed,' he answered, looked up and gave his sister a soft smile.
'Thank you, Franziska.'

- END -

A/N
This is a short story that I came up with. I have the idea that Von Karma did not have the heart to throw away these albums when he cleaned up the house of the Edgeworths in the period of adopting Miles.
Thank you for reading!