"No thank you, Miles," Franziska said brusquely, ignoring the open door of the car. "I plan to walk to the courthouse, thank you."
Edgeworth shut the door and hurried to her side. "Are you sure? It's a long walk. I wanted to talk with you, Franziska."
"I'll walk." She glared at him pointedly, reaching instinctively for her whip.
"Then we can walk together," Edgeworth said, undeterred. Franziska gave a little humph and set off down the sidewalk at a brisk pace, as if she hoped to leave the other prosecutor behind. Unfortunately for her, Edgeworth was determined to match her pace. They walked alongside each other in silence for awhile, and Franziska refused to even look at Edgeworth.
"You're pathetic, you know," she said suddenly, staring straight ahead with narrowed eyes.
"So you have expressed." Edgeworth tilted up his chin slightly, Franziska saw it out of the corner of her eye. For some reason, the gesture infuriated her-he thought could just appear back into her life and make those pompous little gestures, as if he was looking down at her somehow!
"You've no right to look down on me, Miles Edgeworth," she snapped, picking up the pace. He had to struggle to keep up with her now; it gave her some small satisfaction. "You're a coward and an insult to the Von Karma name."
"You've already expressed that as well," he pointed out, obviously trying not to show he was having difficulty matching her pace. "Care to tell me what's really on your mind?"
"That is what's on my mind," she retorted. "I'm embarrassed to be seen with you. You're pathetic and I want nothing more to do with you-zat is all."
"Your accent is slipping."
She turned to glare at him. "My vhat?"
"Your accent. It becomes more German when you're upset about something." He gave a smug smile and tapped at his forehead with a finger-another gesture that was just so like him that it annoyed Franziska to no end. She found herself clenching her fists, wanting to shove this man into the street and run to the courthouse on her own.
"I don't care about that," she said, retrieving her whip and ensuring its well-being to calm herself. "One thing I do care about, however, is you jeopardizing this case by telling everything we know to that… that Phoenix Wright."
"Ah. Is that what has you so irritable?"
"Explain yourself immediately," Franziska demanded, whipping a nearby telephone pole for emphasis. The loud wa-ksh! echoed over the street, drawing a few stares. "Because of you, that amateur has plenty of ammunition to use against us."
Edgeworth shook his head. "I think you have a lot to learn, Franziska."
"I am a better prosecutor than you ever were!" Franziska exclaimed, indignant. "If anything, I should be teaching you."
"Yes, you'd think that, wouldn't you," he replied, wearily.
"You haven't answered my question, Miles Edgeworth," she growled through gritted teeth.
"Fine. Here is my answer, for what it's worth." He turned to face her, and she noticed something different about his face-or perhaps just the expression on it. He was still that tiresome, stuck-up, self-righteous man from those years ago, but something of that sullen tiredness he always carried around with him had faded. "If you are perfectly honest with yourself, Franziska, you will find that this trial is the result of a personal vendetta you have against Wright. You are not working so hard to prove Matt Engarde guilty because it is justice, you're doing it to defeat Wright."
"Defeating Phoenix Wright? Doing justice? They are the same thing," Franziska scoffed.
"No." Edgeworth shook his head. "That isn't true, and you know it. I thought as you did once, and I can tell you it did me no good. Justice is done in court by correctly disciplining the right criminal. If the defendant is actually innocent…convicting him will bring no justice."
"Do you think I care about that?" Franziska flicked back her hair, trying to look more confident than she felt. "Even if the defendant is not fully guilty, they certainly did something to warrant being arrested. Thus, it is my duty as a prosecutor to ensure that that person is punished accordingly. And besides-in this specific case, Matt Engarde is clearly guilty. Even you have to admit that."
"Perhaps," Edgeworth mused.
"So that's your reason?" Franziska challenged, stretching out her whip. "You believe that, on the off chance Matt Engarde is innocent, you have to tell the defense all of our information?"
"Yes. If that's what it takes to find the truth."
"What happened to you?" Franziska demanded, filled with consternation at what her 'little brother' had become. "You were great once. Taught by the best. The Von Karma creed is perfection, not this wishy-washy, foolish fool's talk of foolish doubt. As prosecutors, it is our duty to follow through to the very end."
"I agree with that point, certainly," Edgeworth conceded. "The only thing I dispute is which end we're seeking."
"Certainly not to leave a ridiculous suicide note and disappear for a year," Franziska jabbed, careful not to let her accent slip this time.
"To the heart of the matter at last," he commented, almost cheerfully.
"Vhen I first heard of it, I laughed," she scoffed. In reality, she had cried. But Edgeworth did not need to know that.
"In retrospect, it was a little overdramatic. But honestly, at the time, I had no clear idea of what I was going to do. A drastic note seemed appropriate."
"Were you actually considering suicide?" Franziska asked with genuine distaste. As much as she hated to admit it, she still kind of admired Edgeworth underneath all her bitterness, for his tenacity to get what he wanted if nothing else. But if he was weak-willed enough to want to take his own life-well, Franziska would have to admit Edgeworth wasn't who she thought he was, and admit it fully.
"It crossed my mind over the years," he admitted with a shameless ease that astounded her. "I never dwelled on it, though. Too stubborn to let go of life, I suppose."
"So it wasn't a suicide note?"
"No, not really. I'm surprised to hear you of all people took it that way." He looked sideways at her. "I'm not sure about Wright; he seems as oblivious as usual. I didn't expect much more from him. I thought you knew me better, though."
"I don't know you at all anymore," she retorted, even as some part of her wanted to say: yes, you're right. I knew you were alive, I never gave up on you. Better for him to think she didn't care at all. Better for her to think so, too. She hated Edgeworth, she really did.
He shrugged. "Well, I've changed. You haven't. The world goes on."
They'd been walking for a fair while now, and the courthouse was nearby. They would be early, but Franziska had planned it like that. She needed time to speak with the witnesses, to arrange her case perfectly and eliminate any weak spots that Phoenix Wright might hone in on, thanks to the info leaked by a certain prosecutor.
"So. Did you really come here just so you could take my hard-earned evidence and give it to the defense?" Franziska asked, crossing her arms.
"No, not quite," he said enigmatically. "I am very interested in this case, though. I believe it is much more complicated than it seems on the surface, Franziska. Please try to keep an open mind at the trial."
"Again, it is a foolish prosecutor who acts that way. I am here to win a guilty verdict, and to do it perfectly. If you had any wits left, you'd agree."
"Was I really so myopic once?" Edgeworth mused. They were approaching the courthouse now, right on schedule.
"You are the near-sighted one." Franziska pushed past him, heading for the steps to the courthouse building. "You've lost sight of the Von Karma way. It's the only way."
She stepped forward, about to mount the stairs, when a harsh bang! split the air. Something punched into her shoulder and she stumbled back, falling into Edgeworth.
"What was…? A gunshot?" He held her securely, searching the streets for any sign of the shooter. There were a few people about, looking startled, but nothing suspicious. "Franziska, are you okay!"
Franziska shoved him away, then winced at the burning pain in her right shoulder. She looked down and saw that the white sleeve of her jacket was darkening with blood. Swearing in German and clutching the wound, she whirled and started to head for the steps again.
"Franziska! What do you think you're doing?" Edgeworth called, grabbing her by her left arm.
"Let go of me!" she hissed, stomping on his foot with a high-heeled boot. He yelped, staggering back. "You may be a wishy-washy fool when it comes to prosecuting, Miles Edgeworth, but I am going to see this through to the end! Victory will be mine, nothing will change that!"
"You were just shot!" he insisted, grabbing her around the middle and forcibly dragging her away from the courthouse. Normally, Franziska was certain she could have whipped him into a quivering pile of remorse, but the wound was making her weak and dizzy.
"No! This can't happen!" she lamented, gritting her teeth against the pain. She pressed her left hand into the wound as if she could stop the bleeding with force of will, and was rewarded by a sharp, brutal pain. She gasped, starting to sweat.
The people on the street had gathered around now. Someone was calling 911. Franziska wanted to yell at them all to go away, she was in the middle of something very important and couldn't be bothered. Without her, the trial could not be trusted to end perfectly!
"Franziska, please. Calm down." Edgeworth wasn't so much dragging her away anymore as he was just holding her, trying to comfort her. "There's an ambulance coming. Please humor me, you're going to lose too much blood stomping around like this."
"I hate you, Miles Edgeworth," she gasped, cursing her knees as they buckled. Edgeworth carefully guided her into a sitting position; she was fairly certain she could feel his hands shaking.
The helpful people milled around, trying to be of assistance, while others lost interest and wandered off. A court bailiff appeared to see what the commotion was about, and Edgeworth was quick to explain the situation to him, and that Ms. Von Karma would be unavailable for the trial.
"I'll… be… there," Franziska panted, clutching at her shoulder vehemently. Edgeworth had produced a handkerchief and she was trying to stop the bleeding with it, though it was now thoroughly crimson. "I've just got… to get patched up…"
"Of course," Edgeworth replied. Suspicions were running wild in his head. Who would shoot Franziska like this? Was it possible that this had happened by chance? Could some psychotic person have gotten a hold of a gun and just happened to shoot the prosecutor for the Matt Engarde case?
No, it was too precise. Edgeworth narrowed his eyes and glared at the courthouse. He could hear sirens growing louder behind them. Help would soon arrive. Franziska would be indisposed for this trial. The man behind the scenes had certainly tipped the scales, but Edgeworth would ensure it was not in the other's favour.
Today, he would face Wright. And together, perhaps they could face the true enemy.