Chapter 1: Cups of Earl Grey
The afternoon rain had been pouring down since the morning against the windows, creating a cold and chill sensation in the prosecutor's office.
Miles Edgeworth, one of the country's most prominent lawyers, recently promoted to the grand position of Chief Prosecutor, closed his eyes while sipping a warm cup of English tea. Placing it then on his lap, he took off his glasses for a moment, rubbed slowly his eyes, and exhaled a sigh. With a growing amount of paperwork, caused by the turmoil with the announcement of a completely revolutionary court system, that was bound to change the functioning of Justice and Law themselves, all because of a certain lawyer well-known to our protagonist, Edgeworth already felt overwhelmed. Readjusting his glasses, the prosecutor could feel pressure in the air. In the end, only a nice cup of Earl Grey seemed to make this sense of weight just fade away. If only for now, his ghosts could leave him in peace…
The door knocked. A discreet yet firm knock. Surprised, Edgeworth knew he was expecting neither a client nor another lawyer. Was this not work-related? The sound of the knock was not immediately recognizable. If it had been Detective Gumshoe, or even Kay, the door would have loudly burst open by now. He put down his drink on a side table and moved towards the entrance to his office, turning the hard wooden knob to reveal the mysterious visitor.
Indeed, a very unexpected visitor. In front of him stood a well-built, mature, yet small brown-haired woman clutching a wet slim black umbrella, a stern yet melancholic expression in her deep greyish green eyes. She was certainly heading towards her forties, but Miles still saw in her, right from the moment he opened the door, and stood frozen when meeting her gaze, the same bright mentor of his youth. With the same red muffler around her neck, he could not help superposing her fresh smiling face from ten years ago upon her now weary look.
"Ch…Chie-chief Pro-prosecutor!" A confused Miles reddened from hearing his childish stuttering.
Lana Skye's lips revealed a slightly amused smile. "I think you occupy that position now, Mr. Edgeworth. Am I correct?"
Miles Edgeworth's office was probably the most comfortable one for visitors on the High Prosecutors' floor, its red velvet couches inviting certain scruffy detectives to take indecent naps, every nook and cranny of its spacious floor sparkling clean, fine teaware carefully installed upon expensive antique furniture, with a flowery perfuming scent spreading across the room. Most people enjoyed this luminous harmonious place, even if its owner was not always considered by all as the liveliest of companies. This time, the atmosphere seemed different from usual. With the grey rain continuing to shower upon the buildings, Edgeworth was for a short instant under the illusion that the lights in his office were dimming.
Sitting on another narrower couch, perpendicular to Miles' own, facing the door through which she had passed, Lana was sipping prudently her beverage, now and then unconsciously stirring back and forth her spoon in her cup, as if the echo of the silver touching the porcelain should fill in the distant silence between the man sitting on the edge of his seat and her. The two seemed to carefully stare at either their drink or right in front of them.
Polite remarks and concerns had been exchanged. Plain awkwardness had then settled in. Both knew that it was time to overcome these social formalities.
Edgeworth, recomposing himself to regain his natural calm demeanor, posed once again his tea, now on a coffee table that he shared with his guest. They both put their cup down at the same time. Their gazes suddenly met. Edgeworth tried not to divert too obviously his own. Lana Skye, a direct woman, cleared her throat. She was ready to make the first move.
"You know, I was wondering when I came here whether you actually knew I had come out of jail, about a year ago. The media made quite a case about it."
Miles finally looked up at her, his head nodding, after having uneasily readjusted his glasses. "I did, yes. I remember not only reading it in the papers, but also seeing it once on television, that is, the moment of your release". His grave voice grew less shaky, more assured and professional.
Lana nodded, remembering. "From your situation, and from my own knowledge of your character, I guess I expected you to keep up with that type of news."
She realized only after having pronounced those words what she was insinuating. The question why this meeting hadn't happened earlier was burning on her lips. Why did he not contact her earlier? Why was she the one to have to make the first step?
But no. She could not say such a thing. She tried to stop using that mentor-ly reproachful tone that was developing with her speech: "It was hard with such commotion to readjust to normal life, I guess. During that period, I preferred solitude; for a while, it felt easier not seeing anyone I knew." She tried to find excuses for his behavior. She was used to blaming herself anyway.
Her somber eyes lightened up a little: "Thankfully, Ema was there for me the whole time. She has really grown up, I have never seen her so responsible before".
At the name of Lana's little sister, now a young talented forensics detective in LA, Edgeworth approved of this description. "She certainly has changed, since the last time I have seen her. Only a couple of months ago, she told me she had been working on a serious murder case with police research." He had seen Ema recently, who had told him about her progress…as well as her reencounter with a certain man Edgeworth had not talked to in years. But this was not important.
"I've been living with her for the moment. Let's just say that it has been difficult to return back home. I was experiencing...some issues about spying…" Miles saw in her expression a feeling of angst, and understood to an extent her hardships of re-adaptation with society. He knew this was a common phenomenon with people recently let out of jail. The prying of common people could be overwhelming during the first year. A case from a long time ago came to mind.
Lana felt a change in the overall mood was necessary. She paused, and examined her surroundings. "You really know how to create an agreeable environment, Mr. Edgeworth. At least, interior decoration-wise. I mean…. Not that socially, you…Oh, I did not mean that!" Edgeworth, who had not caught on to the insult, gave her a perplexed look.
"Oh, it does not matter, reassured Lana to repair this other mistake, with a strong wish to bite her nail, I was just complimenting your office. And where did you get that beautiful bouquet of freesias?" She was commenting on the grand batch of purple, pink and white freesias that illuminated Edgeworth's desk in a shiny blue pot, adorned with a frilly ribbon and a huge card, its message unreadable from Lana's perspective. Though Lana Skye rarely admitted it, she adored flowers. She was ready to get up to take a closer look.
Embarrassed, Edgeworth got up more rapidly and seized the pot to place it on the window sill, stammering: "Ah! Eh, um, well, it's a-a-a a present, from ah…um…a client, yes, a client that offered it to me very genteelly, yes, very genteelly, uh… this morning!" He was not ready to divulge the truth about an old (very old) connaissance who enjoyed sending these types of inappropriate gifts every week, the same exact day at the same exact hour. With of course, as the straw on the camel's back, the same type of obscene messages. Edgeworth quickly threw away the card into his waste basket before Lana approached the bouquet to smell its perfume. She advanced and stopped near the window sill. He stood hot and sweating. He started observing her gracefully caressing the flowers' petals, contemplating the movement of her hands. He noticed he was suddenly quite closer to her. She inwardly did equally. Time then seemed to relax itself. For a short while, at least.
Lana remarked his eyes on her. She slowly lifted her head and gave for the first time a genuine smile. Uncomfortable, Miles gave a faint one in return, taking a sudden interest in the bouquet's composition, furiously blushing. He swallowed some saliva stuck in his throat.
"Certainly different from my own office, in my time." Lana broke the silence. Her smile was fading. "I kept everything very neutral, I guess; I remember sharing it with Gant's." At the echo of the terrible name of Lana's own mentor, Ms. Skye laughed nervously. The elephant in the room was dangerously awakening. Worry painted Edgeworth's face. The case of 10 years ago was finally breaking the surface.
"I…" Lana had a hard time finishing her sentence. "I should have been a bit more colorful, I guess". Her voice trailed off.
The rain's violent pouring soothed itself. Lana leaned herself against the window sill, her red muffler's reflection vivifying the obscure landscape. "Well, someone had to mention him. One of us had to".
Miles turned to look at the view. The business towers' lights shone through the dark greyness. "Ms. Skye." She lowered her head. "You have not only come here to talk about the past. What is the reason for your visit?" Silence. A pause. Hesitation could be read on Lana's face.
Out of nowhere, the door flung open. Both Ms. Skye and Edgeworth jumped, turned their heads in synchronization, to greet a huffing and puffing acquaintance in his infamous dirty green old overcoat and with his usual clumsy mannerisms, waving flimsily what seemed to be a heavy file, bits of sheets looking like they were about to fall out any minute from its folder.
"De-de…Detective Gumshoe!" Edgeworth would have recognized his investigation partner from miles away, even in one of the most crowded airports of LA. The stench was already one easy clue.
"Hey, Mr. Edgeworth, sir!" Not realizing there was a visitor in the prosecutor's office, the airheaded detective leaned himself on the desk, trying to catch his breath while explaining his sudden interruption, still waving about his messy file. "Sorry for coming like this, Mr. Edgeworth, I know you keep telling me to call you before dropping by like this, and you get all angry when I don't, but it's really urgent, sir! It's about that case of…Oh!" He paused, finally understanding why the lawyer was giving him a dark look. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Edgeworth, I didn't see your guest here!"
The prosecutor sighed, ready to apologize about his colleague's behavior, but Lana Skye shook her head. "Do not worry, Detective Gumshoe. I do not know if you remember me, from about eight years ago?" Edgeworth did not expect his coworker to recollect, though surprisingly, the detective did not seem to need any help to jog his memory. "Oh. Wait. I do know you from somewhere…Wait a second. Aren't you a relative of Ema Skye, the young one down in forensics? You're like, pretty much alike, pal! W-wait! You're…Lana Skye, aren't you? Yeah, from eight years ago, I see now! You were accused of…" Edgeworth cut in: "Um, yes, this is indeed Lana Skye, my old mentor from when I used to be in my twenties. She was…present at one of my trials with…well, during that murder case that bought up the SL-9 Incident."
Detective Gumshoe first seemed puzzled, until his face lightened up. He'd understood. He nodded. Detective Gumshoe could have been described as a careless person, but certainly not as an insensitive one. "Yeah, I remember now! Wow! It's good to see you back, pal! Makes me feel nostalgic… Old times and all that." Lana Skye seemed relieved at this statement. "Thank you, Detective, for your concern. All these memories, it really does feel like long ago."
Detective Gumshoe did not quite seem to know what to add next. Lana Skye perceived his uneasiness. "Well, I will not bother Mr. Edgeworth any longer. I see you have an important issue to discuss with him, I should not interrupt." She'd uncrossed her legs and was heading towards the door. She aimed for her umbrella near the entrance, preparing herself to leave.
Edgeworth seemed to want to respond to this, but Lana raised her hand. "No, Mr. Edgeworth, it is no matter." The prosecutor insisted: "Mrs. Skye, at least let me contact you again to arrange another meeting. I would like to continue this conversation. " Detective Gumshoe gave him a surprised and almost laughing grin. Red in the face, Mr. Edgeworth tried to show less enthusiasm in his voice: "Um, well, I mean…I am interested in the reason for you coming here today, after all".
Lana still seemed to hesitate, but decided in the end to admit part of the truth. "Oh well, why not just tell you? I actually was coming to see you to ask if you could arrange a meeting for me with Detective Gumshoe at the police station. I see I do not need to anymore." Now both the prosecutor and his partner raised their eyebrows.
Noticing their wide-open eyes, Lana added: "It is concerning a job opportunity. I will not go into too much detail, but I was hoping I could discuss it with Detective Gumshoe alone, for a lunch or something, to see if there is any type of opening at the station." She gave a nervous laugh, and looked down. "I could have asked Ema, I guess, but I did honestly wish to see you once again face to face. As the Detective said in his own words, it has been a long time".
After the Detective gave her his contact details to arrange this meeting, Edgeworth couldn't bring himself to find an excuse for her to stay any longer. He posed his eyes on the new mass of paperwork that awaited him. Detective Gumshoe was still standing there, waiting around too, waving imaginary flies around him. Edgeworth sighed in resignation, and put out his hand. They exchanged in a colder, more respectable manner their goodbyes. She took her dry umbrella and left.
"Well, pal, didn't expect to see her, of all people. I especially didn't expect her to see ME for THAT reason". Edgeworth, returning sluggishly back to his desk, acquiesced. His pal continued eagerly: "You certainly didn't seem to either, Mr. Edgeworth! You were all confused there pal, all blushing and sweaty, like when you don't know what to say anymore in court in front of the defen-" Before Gumshoe could add anything else, Edgeworth, easily susceptible, again red in the face, ordered for the hundredth time his dear friend to "kindly" hold his tongue if he did not wish for another "friendly" salary cut.
After protesting and wailing for the hundredth time about how "unfair" this treatment was, the detective nevertheless added in a more serious tone: "But you know, Mr. Edgeworth, I do feel bad for her. I now remember getting last month, or some time like that, complaints coming from her sister's address about harassment. Like spying, or prosecution from the neighbors. Scary stuff, sir, threatening messages, prank calls, hate mail..." "I think you mean PER-secution, Detective", corrected Edgeworth, reflecting on this revealing of the true nature of Lana's difficulties. He had not grasped in the first place the gravity of the dangers that were confronting her. He suddenly wished she had confessed to him in more detail about such problems. He suddenly regretted not having visited her during the year. Not having effectuated the first step. Bitterness and frustration followed him for the rest of the evening. Almost impossible to concentrate on, to not lose focus of these facts and numbers that now seemed transparent, that for once just seemed to slip away from his mind…
His last image of her was a face with mixed emotions: a certain sense of relief, covering a profoundly marked feeling of sorrow in those deep grayish green eyes. Beautiful and sad at the same time. This was his last impression of her on that day. Detective Gumshoe's excessive chattering did not seem to make him forget the traces of grief that she had left wandering in his office, not yet completely evaporated. Even after his colleague had left, did he still see in his own reflection in the window, washed by the drops of rain, those piercing eyes of hers. Even in his apartment bed, contemplating his high concrete ceiling, did he still remain captivated by this strange sensation of heaviness she had created in him. A strong sentiment impossible to shake off.