Hello, all! I truly hope you like this... I spent what seems like ages on it. Anywho, this story will contain OC's. The reporter here also appears in the Epilogue, and that's all. And Franziska's "unnamed older sister" has a name and a history in here. But she only appears in the Prologue, and she is only talked about. Later in the story, there will be OC's, but that's only because law offices have so many freaking people.... most of my OC's are just fillers, but people like Timothy Judd (whose character took FOREVER to develop) will be amongst the primary characters. And he'll be introduced later.

Anywho, standard disclaimers apply. (I really don't know why people bother with those.... we all know that nobody here owns these characters.) Nobody belongs to me except Mlle. de Lancret, Adelaide, Judd (who appears later), and any other random filler OC's.

~tl

(p.s. - a note on the Epigraph: some of you may not recognize the biblical Book of Wisdom. That's because Wisdom is a Book in the Roman Catholic Bible. kthnx.)

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"For not even [their chamber] protected them from fear, but terrifying sounds rang out around them, and dismal phantoms with gloomy faces appeared. And no power of fire was able to give [them] light, nor did the brilliant flames of the stars avail to illumine that hateful night. Nothing was shining through to them except a dreadful, self-kindled fire, and in terror... still heavier than darkness were they to themselves."

- Wisdom of Solomon 17:4-6, 21

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Time: January, 2068 (Herr Edgeworth, 76; Frau von Karma, 69)

Place: von Karma manor, Munich, Germany

Weather: overcast, chilly, light rain

The room's lighting was acceptable; it was dimmed slightly because the dark burgundy drapes had been previously drawn in order to rule out any view of the Outside. The young French girl - perhaps in her mid-twenties and almost certainly right out of journalism school - was wondering just why the drapes were drawn, seeing as it was a slightly overcast day, and there was no bright sunlight that may disturb the eyes. In fact, it was raining lightly.

She walked over to one of the windows and stood before it, inspecting the drapes. They were, indeed, a deep burgundy color, and they had empire valences that swooped up and down in a perfect scalloped trim. The drapes themselves reached the floor – the dusty floor – and their golden trim had flakes of dust sticking to it. She reached out ever-so-softly to touch one of the drapes, as though she were touching a very ancient article from a museum – something that had come from the past in order to allow her to rip into history and see what it means to be alive now – now... a time of complete relativity because really, once you start saying the word more than three times to yourself, it sounds like nonsense. And what "now" is to us, the young French journalist decides, was completely unheard of in the past. And what is "past" to us was "now" to them. So, really... all time is is one huge continuum, and we are just specks on a much grander scale.

She lightly runs her fingers over the drapes, and she can tell it is made of a heavy velvet fabric – "Perfect for this dreary winter season," she thinks to herself.

After several minutes, she shifts the file folders in her arms - as well as the voice recorder – and walks over to a settee in the back of the room. She dusts off a spot, sets her documents down upon the oaken coffee table in front of the old sofa, and sits down after straightening her ankle-length black skirt. After folding her hands in her lap she sits – with unprecedented posture – and waits for the man she is to interview.

A bookcase, lonely, stood in one corner of the room, and the girl noticed this when she turned her porcelain head. It was made of rosewood and had glass doors, through which she could see the many shelves and books within. They were covered with thin layers of dust; some of the flakes were falling like snow onto the bottom of the case. Her soft brown eyebrows creased slightly, wondrously. "I wonder why everything is so dusty..."

The young journalist, Mademoiselle Madeline de Làncrét, had been waiting patiently on the settee for approximately half an hour when the man she was to interview at last entered the old, rather dusty room. Mlle. de Làncrét had basic background information on the man, and, to her surprise, he looked quite well, albeit being in a wheelchair. Of course, even if she hadn't been provided basic background information, she would have still known of him – after all, who in Europe didn't? The man was practically a legend. The woman pushing his wheelchair was a legend, as well. Both had several things in common, aside from being legends.

One of those things was that they both had a relationship to the infamous, scheming Herr Manfred von Karma who, according to one anonymous attorney's opinion which "accidentally" got leaked to the press, was so exceptionally dishonest that it would be a very cold day in hell, indeed, before that man would produce a clean bit of evidence in court. And, according to rumors, the two kids he brought up weren't much better. (Well, actually he had three – two biological and one adopted – but the third... well... it was said that she ran away when she was thirteen and lived in various institutions until her death, the date of which nobody ever found out.)

Another thing they had in common was that both of them were always struggling to be perfect. Von Karma wouldn't have it any other way, and his two clones would sooner hang themselves then have his death be in vain. Well, that is, both of them did until the adopted one found out that the old man murdered his biological father. However, by this time, von Karma's ways were so thoroughly etched into his brain that he couldn't go a separate road if he tried.

And, yet another thing – one that Mlle. de Làncrét did not know –was that at least one of them, if not both, had a very troubled past. Mlle. de Làncrét knew about the man having to grow up under the mentorship of his father's murderer, but there was more to his tormented past than that. And the young French journalist didn't quite know what, exactly, she was getting herself into.

As the man in the wheelchair entered the room, Mlle. de Làncrét looked at him briefly, then she looked up at the woman who was pushing him. She looked as though she had seen far too much during her life – seen things that she wished she hadn't have. Wrinkles creased about her eyes, and, as Mlle. de Làncrét looked harder, a fleeting thought passed through her mind – "She looks so... tired..." Not tired from lack of sleep, but rather tired from life's web of harsh realities – realities that she didn't want to believe were real, so she continuously withdrew into herself in order to try to escape.

"Hello," the woman greeted softly in a German accent. She sounded distant, and her eyes were searching... for what? Hope? "I am Franziska von Karma. This," she spoke while indicating the man in the wheelchair, "is my brother, Miles Edgeworth." She sighed lightly, put a hand on her brother's shoulder, then bowed her head. "Welcome to our home."

"Thank you for having me, Frau von Karma," Mlle. de Làncrét said in a polite voice, having stood up when Franziska and her brother entered the room. Although she was distinctly French, she knew her German titles well. "I'm Madeline de Làncrét. It..." – she swallowed – "... it is truly an honor, Frau von Karma."

"An honor to interview my brother and I about our lives?" the woman replied, sounding a bit amused. Madeline was confused.

"Why... of course. Should it not be?"

"Let the girl have her fun, Franziska," the famous Herr Edgeworth replied, sounding as though he'd smoked a bit too much in his youthful days. "She looks like an upcoming journalist; if she wants to interview us as her first job, let her." He took a break to sigh before continuing. "You're only young once, you know. You only have one chance to lead a nice life..." Herr Edgeworth spoke in a soft, almost sad, voice.

"Yeah... guess you and I blew that..." his sister mused, sighing. She continued softly, "And Addie didn't even get a chance."

"..." Herr Edgeworth couldn't reply to that. Madeline wondered what he was thinking. "Addie must be short for Adelaide..." she thought to herself.

"So... um... shall we start?" Madeline asked in a cautious tone, breaking an awkward silence that had settled about them.

"If you wish," Herr Edgeworth answered formally, his voice monotone and his eyes like stones, staring at the drawn burgundy drapes as though he was seeing through them. Franziska only shrugged and left her brother's side to pull up a cushioned chair next to his wheelchair. The pair sat on the opposite side of the coffee table than Madeline, and she began to wonder if this interview was a bad idea.

"Right... well..." Madeline began, gathering her file folder in her arms. Herr Edgeworth visibly shuddered, and Madeline was not blind to this. "I wonder why..." She watched as Franziska put a comforting hand on her brother's arm. "Did... what did I say?" Madeline asked, concerned.

"Nothing," Frau von Karma answered, perhaps a bit too snappily because Madeline blinked and looked taken aback. "N-nothing," she repeated, a bit more calmly this time. "It's fine. Just... continue."

"Okay." Mlle. de Làncrét pushed the "play" button on the voice recorder and began speaking. "So, all I really know is that the two of you moved to America several years after... well..." she was obviously having problems."After the incident, and –"

"You lie," Franziska interrupted in a blunt manner, her voice flat. "You know more than that. Journalists always do. And don't refer to it as 'the incident.' You damn well know what happened just as well as we do, so don't keep shut up about it. If you think we can't handle it, then you are direly wrong. Our lives have been hell on earth, and... what did you call it? ... 'the incident' isn't even a fraction in the whole circle."

"O-okay, then. The both of you left for America a few years after your sister, Adelaide, ran away."

"That is correct," Herr Edgeworth confirmed.

"Why did she?"

"I believe you know," Franziska answered.

"I don't. I only know what the tabloids said years ago, when she..." - Mlle. de Làncrét had to take a deep breath - "... died. And besides, those only stated what happened after she left your home."

"Those 'rumors' are correct. I had hired someone to check with every mental hospital the papers said she was a resident of, and he told me that she had, in fact, stayed in all of them. As to why she ran away... well, our father didn't want either of us. He wanted boys so the family name wouldn't die out. He wanted us to become a dynasty. But, instead of Adelric and Franz, he got stuck with Adelaide and Franziska. When I was two-years-old, he adopted Miles. He finally had his precious son. He treated Miles with all the love he didn't give Addie and me, and I was able to take it. She wasn't. She was three years older than I was, but somehow I could handle not being loved better than she could. She lived with it for as long as she could, but when she was thirteen, she couldn't take it anymore. One night, she had a particularly ugly argument with our father. They were yelling and screaming..." – a tear fell from Frau von Karma's left eye – "... she yelled at him... asked if there was ever a time in her life when he loved her at all. She asked if it was really that hard. His answer to her was a slap across her face."

"She screamed... horribly... and ran out the front door," Herr Edgeworth finished the story. He shrugged. "We never saw her again. I think von Karma was afraid that the incident might leave a scar on his career's reputation... but at least with her gone, in his opinion, there'd be one less mouth to feed."

"Not that it would've mattered. We weren't exactly poor," Frau von Karma scoffed. Then she sighed. Madeline couldn't say anything for approximately two minutes.

"God, as long as I live, I'll never forget that scream..." Herr Edgeworth murmured, haunted, staring at the drapes. A clap of thunder could be heard in the distance.

"Frau von Karma," Mlle. de Làncrét began in a cautious tone, "you said before that, compared with the whole circle, this incident doesn't match to a fraction. But you and your brother seem highly upset right now... can you tell me the reasoning behind your previous statement?"

"Adelaide's leaving... it left a scar. After Miles finished his studies, we decided to leave Europe. I couldn't stay here – not with what had happened. And Miles had come to love Addie like his own flesh and blood. He couldn't stay, either. We decided to move to America; even though it was across the world, everyone said it was the Land of Opportunity, so we figured we would try it out. We even found a way to get naturalized so that we could be citizens there and here. Anyway... it was over there where the real horrors were."

"I... I don't understand... the both of you – you were brilliant. Herr Edgeworth, you were an astounding attorney. What happened that..."

"... Made me go downhill completely?" Herr Edgeworth interrupted flatly.

"Precisely."

"I have bipolar disorder, for one thing. I know, surprising, isn't it? Well... unlike years ago, I am no longer ashamed to admit it. Hell, I don't even know if I have anything worth being ashamed of anymore – my life was such a fucking mess; I don't know if I even give a damn. In any case, for another, I was questioning what I was supposed to be doing in this world, and if what I was doing was the right thing. After all, I was young... questioning one's career was a normal thing back then. I mean... it's not like you quit or anything; you still stuck with it. But you were allowed to wonder if what you were sticking with was what you were supposed to be doing." Here, he took a moment to sigh. "And, for a third..."

"Yes?"

"..."

"..."

"Don't fall in love," Herr Edgeworth advised in a grave voice.

"E-excuse me, Herr Edgeworth?" Mlle. de Làncrét replied, very much confused.

"Don't fall in love," he replied.

"W-why not?"

"Because, if you do..." at this, his breath hitched a bit. Frau von Karma grasped his hand and stroked the back of it with her thumb. He exhaled slowly before continuing. "If you do, the only thing that you can ever be promised is that you'll be hurt. And when one is all ready spending half one's life in a fucking bipolar hell, letting something like love enter one's life is the ultimate stop to any master plan one might have." A silence filled the room for several minutes, and the rain outside could be heard against the hidden window panes. All three of them could almost hear how cold the rain was that chilly winter afternoon.

Herr Edgeworth broke the silence. "You know... I really dislike rain. It's as though the angels are crying."

Franziska squeezed her brother's hand tighter.