A/N: So I finally got off my lazy arse and translated this! *confetti* I apologise for any mistakes. It's strange translating your own writing. I tried to make the wording feel as natural as possible, and anyone who understands both Chinese and English may note that the translations are not exact. I've adapted the English version so that it corresponds with the US canon of AA, and toyed around with it, adding more bits and pieces or taking things off or altered it so it makes more sense in English.
At least I have the freedom to do that with my own work, haha. :P
So yes, please enjoy. It's rather lengthy, but 2000 words shorter than the original Chinese, so... Yeah.
References made to AAI and GK2. No spoilers though, I don't think, unless you count the appearance of a GK2 character.
Disclaimer: Ace Attorney belongs to Capcom and Shuu Takumi
"Mister Edgeworth~!"
A comfortable, peaceful cup of morning tea, broken by a single shout…
Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth sighed in exasperation as he set down his still steaming cup of tea. It had been such a nice day too, all to himself… Wistfully, he tugged at his cravat, but before he could compose himself properly, the door to office number 1202 burst open with a resounding 'clang'.
"Mi~ster~Edge~worth~!"
"Miss Faraday," Edgeworth shook his head, expression a cool mirage in comparison to the evidently flustered Great Thief Yatagarasu. "This is the Prosecutor's Office. It would be much appreciated if you did not shout in such a manner and disturb the others."
"Oh, uh, sorry 'bout that." Kay grinned, apologetically, but then the panic was back upon her face and she began to bounce excitedly from one foot to the other. "B-But, Mr. Edgeworth! This is an emergency! You need to come and have a look!"
"Emergency?" Edgeworth repeated, considering Kay's tone. His brows furrowed immediately as soon as he had ascertained that she was, in fact, serious. "What's going on?"
Kay nodded. "Follow me!" And without waiting to see if the prosecutor was following after her, she turned and sprinted down the stairs, steps nimble and light. After ensuring his office was locked safely (no repeat of last year's incident… though admittedly, he had also locked the door then), he followed the Great Thief down to the first floor.
He was already familiar with the place – naturally, it was his workplace, after all – but as he scanned the area frantically for blood and panic, he saw nothing: no members of the police or forensics busy examining the scene. Instead, a bored looking cleaner was busy mopping up the floor; outside, a Samurai dog vendor was apparently struggling to inflate a large, unwieldy Steel Samurai balloon.
"Kay, there's nothing here." He observed, after a final, somewhat disbelieving glance around him.
His self-proclaimed assistant had the audacity to roll her eyes. "Duh. That's because the emergency isn't here, Mr. Edgeworth!" Then, without warning, she lunged for his arm and, ignoring his uncomfortable flinch, began to drag him outside. "Come on!"
Exasperated, Edgeworth allowed himself to be led, reluctantly, out of the building. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary there, either. A cool, autumn wind was stirring through the sky, ruffling the golden leaves upon several tall, sturdy oaks. All was calm, and the birds sang.
Edgeworth folded his arms. "Kay –"
Kay ignored him and pointed up to the sky. "Look there, Mr. Edgeworth!" She exclaimed. "It's a kitty-cat!"
Kitty-cat…?
Indeed, in the direction that Kay was pointing at, was a small, black cat with large, green eyes and a pitiful expression clinging tightly upon the bare branches of a looming oak. It meowed – a plaintive cry, and gazed imploringly down at the two humans below.
Edgeworth felt his mouth thin.
"So this emergency is, in fact, a cat stuck in a tree."
… Which means it's not an emergency at all.
Apparently, Kay thought differently, and if she heard his sarcastic mutters, she chose to ignore it in favour of calling out to the helpless creature among the trees. "What should we do?" She asked, clapping her hands. "Come on, kitty! Come on!... Hmm. It doesn't look like it wants to come down."
It's not that it doesn't 'want' to come down, Kay… It 'can't'. Edgeworth rubbed his forehead and wondered how it was possible not to get wrinkles from frowning when this was the type of situation he normally found himself in. "I'm afraid, Miss Faraday, that there's nothing I can do." I've… never been good with heights, to begin with. "If something like this happens again, please contact detective Gumshoe instead."
With that, he turned to leave.
… Only to be pulled to a stop again.
"How can you be so cold?" There was something like disappointment in Kay's green eyes as she stared intensely at him, her pleading expression no different from the cat high above their heads. "Come on… You're Mr. Edgeworth! You always help the people in need, don't you?"
Yes, I do help the people in need. Edgeworth shook his head in exasperation. Frankly, this would be a waste of my precious time, but I suppose refusing that face would be…
He sighed.
"Alright, just this once. However –"
"However what, Mr. Edgeworth?" Kay blinked at him, eyes too innocent to truly be that.
"N-Never mind." Edgeworth swallowed thickly. I was about to say 'I'll dock your pay'… "I'll… do my best here." Of course, saying that, he had no clue what he should do. "… Perhaps we should contact the firemen."
Now it was Kay's turn to look at him as though he were insane. "The firemen? What for?"
Edgeworth quirked an elegant eyebrow. "Well… Surely you must have seen it on TV before. Is it not procedures to call a… fire station if a cat is stuck in a tree?" He paused to consider the logic of things. "Presumably the ladder comes in handy."
"Ladder?" As if struck by inspiration, Kay's eyes brightened abruptly. "That's it! Don't you have a step-ladder of some kind in your office, Mr. Edgeworth?"
"W-Well…" It's actually just a normal ladder…
"It's alright, Mr. Edgeworth! I'll go get it for you!" Enthusiastic as always, the Yatagarasu beamed and disappeared back into the Prosecutor's Office before Edgeworth could say a word, and, all too soon, she was back, dragging behind her the ladder that spent much of its days leaning against Edgeworth's shelves. "I've got it, Mr. Edgeworth! Your ladder!"
… She has too much strength for a seventeen-year-old girl… Thought Edgeworth dimly to himself as he stepped forward to assist her. Together, they set the ladder against the tree's bough, and then Kay stepped back.
"Alright, now it's up to you, Mr. Edgeworth!"
"W-Why me?" Edgeworth found himself protesting, despite himself. There was no way he could climb a ladder so tall… Not when simply looking up made his head spin. He swallowed. No. No. That was not part of the deal. He was not going to humiliate himself by breaking down into an incoherent mess whilst trying to scale a tree. No… No way would he…
"Hey, you're a gentleman, aren't you?" Kay smirked, resting her hands haughtily upon her hips. "You can't let a 'lady' like me do all that dirty work, can you?"
"But…" 'this is a new suit' dried up in his mouth as he sputtered for an excuse beside the embarrassing truth. When nothing else came up, he settled instead on a shaky: "… Is this ladder safe?"
"Safe? Probably. I mean, shouldn't you know? This came from your office."
That as it may be… I've never touched it once. In the face of what had suddenly become a looming monster, Edgeworth could only grit his teeth and tug uncomfortably upon a cravat that had suddenly become very hot and sweaty. What else could he say? I'm not a child anymore… Surely, after all these years, I will be able to conquer my fear…
Yet no matter what he thought to himself, his hands were still trembling as he rested them upon the cool metal of the ladder.
"Um… Mr. Edgeworth?" Came Kay's uncertain, worried voice, as though from a great distance away. "A-Are you OK? You look really pale…"
Edgeworth only grunted – the best response he could muster at this time, and forced himself slowly up. One step, two…
He had barely reached the third step before the tremors in his body became painfully evident. The ladder was all but rattling against the tree, and his legs felt frozen in place, heavy as lead, unable to move any further… His hands were gripping so tightly they stung, but he couldn't shift them, couldn't let go…
"Are you really alright, Mr. Edgeworth?" The concern in Kay's voice was turning slowly into hysteria. "H-Hey, maybe you should come down now. I was just joking… I-I can do it, honestly…"
Edgeworth merely lifted his head, painfully, and attempted to judge how long his torture would last for. Immediately, the sky spun, and as another, horrible jolt shot through his body, he almost lost his grip and fell. But in that moment, he saw that cat, that accursed cat, was closer now, mewling at him pathetically as he neared.
Well… I'm almost there… Look up, Edgeworth! You're not a child anymore! There's no reason for you to hesitate!
His body felt so heavy. So clumsy and uncontrolled on a ladder so light and fragile. He didn't even know how he managed to move on to the fourth step, only he was suddenly there, and the cat was closer, and if he just let go, reached out…
"M-Mr. Edgeworth…" There was something strangled in Kay's voice.
The little cat pulled itself experimentally on to its feet, and, cautiously, crept towards Edgeworth's trembling arm. A black tail curled uncertainly; whiskers twitched; paws moved stealthily forwards, onwards…
Almost there… Don't look down, don't look down, don't look down…
The cat meowed, then curled its body and jumped.
Instinctively, Edgeworth flinched and pulled back. At the same moment, the cat pounced and he felt something warm and furry smack him hard in the chest. Then gravity disappeared and he was tumbling, and what remained of his fraying nerves finally snapped, and the darkness swallowed him before he even hit the ground.
The world swam gradually back into view.
"Mr. Edgeworth!" Came the sound of a familiar voice, and when the prosecutor forced his eyes open what greeted him was the sight of a worried Kay, bending over him with that troublesome cat in her arms. As soon as she saw that he was awake, she knelt and gave him a hesitant poke. "Are you alright? Y-You fainted, and I didn't know what to do!"
Edgeworth couldn't answer, not at the moment, anyway. Instead, he struggled to sit up and quell a sudden, rising nausea in the back of his throat. "Th-That cat…"
"Oh, him? It's OK, I've already contacted his owner," said Kay fondly, and scratched the kitten's head. "There was a collar around his neck, see, with his name and contact details." As if to demonstrate, she thrust the mewling kitten into Edgeworth's face. "See? His name is Sissel!"
Edgeworth simply shook his head mutely.
"Um… Anyway… Mr. Edgeworth, you…" Kay hesitated. "You're… scared of heights, aren't you?"
"Hmph." He folded his arms, but didn't quite trust himself to meet her eyes. "It's nothing." The nausea had passed down, and after a few wobbly attempts, with Kay pressing a concerned hand upon his shoulder, he stumbled unsteadily to his feet and made his way towards the tree, leaning upon it heavily for support. "… However, in future, I would recommend…" He took in a deep breath. "…Someone else for assistance."
Kay merely watched him, one hand thoughtfully scratching Sissel's head. "Mr. Edgeworth," she said, quietly. "… You're a really kind person, you know? You still tried to help me – Sissel – rather, even though you must have been terrified."
Edgeworth gave a non-committal grunt, face flushing faintly.
Kay smiled.
"You remind me of my Dad."
Despite himself, the prosecutor coughed. "I-Is that so?"
Kay blinked, and then laughed, somewhat apologetically. "I mean, in a good way! Not in a, um, you're like a fifty-year-old way. I mean… You're a lot younger, obviously. Hmm… I suppose, Mr. Edgeworth is more like… a big brother, in a way. Always looking out for me and helping me when things go wrong. That kind of feeling, you know?" She paused, then added, almost shyly: "It's nice."
Edgeworth said nothing. And there was nothing he felt he could say. He had always been awkward with expressing his gratitude and his sentiments, and for a moment, there was regret that he could never really tell her how much her words mean.
"It's what anyone would have done," he muttered, eventually. It wasn't really what he meant, but the smile in Kay's eyes seemed to show that he didn't need to say anymore.
A big brother, hmm? Strange. That was something which I thought I would never be referred to...
"Miles Edgeworth is my little brother."
Franziska von Karma, prosecuting prodigy, has never called him 'big brother' before.
When he was younger, Miles had tried, countless of times, to correct her. "Franziska, I'm older than you," he would say. Lecture, almost. "It's more polite for you to call me your 'big brother'."
But the answer was always the same. It didn't matter whether she was two, or eighteen. Franziska would shake her head stubbornly and retort:
"You're not worthy of being my 'big brother', Miles Edgeworth." And with that, her whip would crack down sharply upon him until there were stars bursting in his vision.
It was a lesson taught with time, and eventually Miles learned that there were just some things in the world one couldn't change.
Under the harsh, watchful eyes of Manfred von Karma, the nine year old 'little brother' and the two year old 'big sister' grew up together, studying hard for a perfection and dream that was still quite far away.
Franziska had always had high expectations, for both herself and those around her. Sometimes, her ambitions exceeded that of her fathers, and for those goals she worked with almost single-minded determination to achieve them. She was a hard worker, that much was undeniable, but in doing so she often isolated herself from others. Every time Miles took her to school, he would see her lonely figure fighting through the crowds as she made her way towards the classrooms. No one ever spoke to her willingly, and she, too, with an expression of deep scorn and disgust, ignored all those around her.
And Miles' heart would always ache upon witnessing such a sight, even if they weren't related by blood.
That day, he came to pick her up as usual, and like usual she stood waiting for him by the school gate. The only difference was the vague redness in her eyes, but Miles, preoccupied as he was with thoughts of homework, had not been able to put much thought into it. He understood too well, after all, the irritation of spring pollen in the breeze.
However, they were scarcely away from the school before Miles caught the faint sound of sobbing from behind him.
Confused – it had not even occurred him to at that point that Franziska was crying – he turned, and she was there, as though frozen on the spot, shoulders shaking in the silence. Her hands were over her eyes, light hair cascading across her face, and her whip lay, discarded and forgotten, on the side of the pavement.
He froze, and it was not concern that first rushed into his mind, but panic. Franziska was crying? Why? Was it something he had done? What should he do? He had always been able to handle her childish competitiveness, her envy, her snarky retorts. But this…
For a moment, he simply stood and stared.
But he was Miles Edgeworth, after all, and soon his panic was over and he allowed himself to calm. It couldn't have been his fault. They'd only started walking for five minutes, and for that duration he had not said a word. It must have been something else. School, perhaps? He wondered if it was safe to approach her, but quickly decided that her whip was far from her reach and that, as the eldest – for he was the eldest, 'little brother' or no – it was his responsibility to forget all the normal, childish nonsense they went through, and make sure she was OK.
"Franziska, what's wrong?"
She didn't answer, though her sobs became stifled, save for the stray hiccup that escaped her fingers.
Miles considered her, and then, hesitantly, placed a hand upon her shoulder. When there was no violent outburst or exclamation of any sort, he knelt gently by her side.
"Do you want to tell me, Franziska?"
Finally, the young girl raised her head, reddened eyes peering cautiously out through the gaps of her fingers. She wasn't looking at him, however, but down at her shoes, expression both nervous and frustrated. Miles saw that she was biting her lip, and knew that it would take a few more prompts to get her to speak.
"You can trust me, Franziska," he tried, as gently as he could, his own face flaming unnaturally at the awkward way his words were tumbling out. "I… I won't tell Mr. Von Karma, if that's what you're afraid of."
As soon as the words 'Von Karma' were out of his mouth, Franziska jumped and, with an expression akin to a startled rabbit, gaped at him as though he had just read her mind.
… I didn't think it was something I actually had to hide from Mr. Von Karma… Feeling as though that he was one step closer to the mark, Miles decided to push the boundaries just a little.
"… Don't tell me you're getting bullied at school?"
A casual, almost conversational tone, but it brought forth the desired effect. Franziska scoffed, dropped her hands, and for a moment, looked almost like Franziska again.
"D-Don't be ridiculous!" She declared, and if it wasn't for a little hiccough, she would have almost been convincing. "O-Of course I don't care what those people think!" Here, she made a quiet, choked sound, hastily stifled, but enough for Miles to guess her real thoughts. "They're just… fools! They can say what they like! I don't… I don't care, at all. They're just fools… Foolishly foolish fools…"
"Franziska, if you do want to tell me," suggested Miles, calmly, "I'm prepared to listen, and offer you solutions, if you need them."
"Hmph! This is adults' business! I d-don't need someone like you to…" Franziska faltered, wiping an arm angrily across her eyes. "I… Well…" She hesitated. "Today, in school…"
She stopped, and glared down at her shoes again.
"What happened?" Miles prompted, gently.
Franziska didn't answer immediately. Her face was already bright red as she wrestled to suppress her emotions. Ultimately, she failed, for fresh tears streaked trails down her cheeks and left dark, damp splotches upon her sleeve. Franziska… was crying, and Miles didn't know what to do.
Not that he needed to do anything in the first place, because finally, Franziska opened her mouth, and said:
"W-We had a maths test today… A-And I…"
I see.
"In my opinion," said Miles, analytically, "a single bad exam result will hardly alter your overall performance." He tried to give her some shred of comfort by patting her awkwardly upon her shoulder. "There's no need to get so upset."
"But how can I not?" Franziska burst out, and there was anger and disappointment in her tone. Anger and disappointment towards herself. "How can I not be upset, Miles Edgeworth? T-The perfect scores I'd been keeping until now… Gone! I can't… I can't be a Von Karma like this! Papa will be… Papa will be… I just can't, Miles Edgeworth. I'm not perfect anymore… And you'd know better than anyone that something, once lost, is lost forever! You know that!"
Miles couldn't answer, and Franziska, too, bowed her head.
"I've failed." She mumbled, and her voice trembled, heavy, with the bitter weight of despair. "Papa can't have… Papa can't have someone like me as his successor. He won't have someone like me. Will he?"
"Franziska…"
Do you not have a world outside of your father's wishes?
Miles looked at the young girl before him, and his own heart, confused and bitter, churned at the sight.
Mr. Von Karma… is such a powerful influence upon her. Not entirely dissimilar to the influence father had on me. But of course, father and Mr. Von Karma are two very different people, and Franziska…
"Everyone was laughing at me." Franziska whispered, voice small and very, very young. "I-I heard them… talking… they thought I couldn't hear… but I knew…"
Are you lonely, Franziska? You try so hard to make your father proud, yet all this time, you're walking this road alone…
I think you've noticed, haven't you? How quiet, how empty this world can be, when there's no one beside you…
You know, don't you? It's just that, all this time, you've been running away from reality…
Slowly, he lifted a hand, and brushed away the tears lurking in the corner of her eyes.
"Don't cry anymore, Franziska. I won't tell anyone."
Franziska started, and for a moment her eyes widened in shock and disbelief. Had she been expecting mockery? Treachery? Blackmail? Miles didn't want to know, and frankly he didn't care. Not when his sister was crying. Not when she needed someone to lean on, if only for this moment.
"Don't be swayed by what other people are saying. You want to be a prosecutor, don't you? Then work towards that goal. Study hard, do your best. Don't let anyone else influence you."
Franziska, I'm sorry. I want to help you, in any way I can, but…
He took in a deep breath, then reached out and pulled her close into his chest.
… I'm just like you.
Franziska didn't fight, and nor did she argue with him. Just this once, she clung on to him and buried her face into his shoulder, taking in his warmth and solidity. Holding on to each other as though their very lives depended upon it.
"… You're such a foolish little brother, Miles…"
Miles.
Edgeworth thought he had not been called that in a while.
For him, 'Miles' had become an almost alien name. It seemed to represent a stranger, a man who was too far away from him to be of any importance. 'Miles' had been a child who had dreamed, a young boy who had aspired after his father. But he did not seem to suit that name anymore.
"Hey, Miles! Mind if I interrupt, kiddo?"
Surprised, Edgeworth paused from his writing and lifted his head to regard the sudden intruder.
"M-Mr. Shields?"
The defence attorney grinned casually, and without waiting for further permission, strolled into the room, his hands tucked with careless abandon within his pockets. "Whoa, there, Miles. Neat office! Is it expensive? Hey, tell you what, if you have the time, I wouldn't mind if you spent some cash to decorate up my agency too! For Gregory, huh? What do you say?"
"Er…" Confronted with such a direct tone, Edgeworth found himself unable to react appropriately to the question. "That's… I…"
He hadn't even formulated a proper response before Ray chuckled in amusement and shrugged. "I'm just joking, Miles. Just joking! Honestly, you need to learn to relax! You're stiff as a plank!" He paused, tilting his head. "Hmm… Then again, I suppose you've always been like that. Gregory used to worry about you, you know? You never seemed interested in playing with the other kids… He was beginning to think you had some kind of… problem."
"R-Really…?" Edgeworth frowned, unable to disguise his hurt. "Did Father really think…?"
"Jeez! D-Don't look at me like that!" Ray yelped, leaping back dramatically. "You don't have to believe everything your Uncle Ray tells you, after all!"
… Are you done? Resisting the urge to thump his head upon his desk, Edgeworth put on his most patient expression. Valuable time is ticking by… "Um, Mr. Shields," he tried, struggling with formality – it was his father's assistant he was speaking to, and for old times' sake… "What is it that you need from me…?"
"Hmm, well… Not much, not really," Ray shrugged, apparently very at ease with life. "I just thought, you know, I could come and visit you! Gregory has… passed on, after all, so naturally, the duty of looking after you falls on me, know what I mean?"
Oh really? Because if that were true, you are at least eighteen years too late… Edgeworth shook his head. If you can't tell, Mr. Shields, I am 27, and quite capable of looking after myself…
But evidently, Ray had not yet finished. He paused, expression unusually serious, before finally speaking: "… I also need a few folders. You must still have a few of Prosecutor Von Karma's case files in your possession, right? I'd like to see if there are any which can be brought in for a re-trial… Let a few… Let a few truths speak out at last, eh?"
So that's your real target. Exasperated, Edgeworth pulled himself up to his feet and gestured towards his shelves. "Feel free to browse, Mr. Shields. I certainly have no objections; after all, those files are useless to me."
"Ah, thanks, Miles. You really are a good kid." There was a satisfactory glint in Ray's eyes as he nodded. "Even when you were young, you always did what you were told! Even if you appeared a little cold to your Uncle Ray, you love me really, don't you?"
… Debatable, thought Edgeworth, but nodded firmly all the same.
A large, energetic beam appeared immediately upon Ray's face, and he spread out his arms widely. "Yes, Miles! Now how about a hug to celebrate our wonderful relationship?"
"U-Um, no thanks, I'm alright, Mr. Shields," spluttered Edgeworth, taking several hasty steps back. He pointed, almost with desperation, at his shelves. "I-I thought you wanted to have a look at some case files."
"Oh! Right, yeah! Whew, got a bit too excited there, huh? I almost forgot what I was here for." Whistling, and apparently oblivious to Edgeworth's rather shaken state, the defence attorney sauntered casually over towards the prosecutor's large, impressive storage of shelves. "Hmm… Yes, yes… That is very neat, Miles. You can certainly tell you're Gregory's son, alright. You even sort your files the same way!"
"Well…" Miles spared a brief glance towards his shelf. "I simply prefer to be organised."
"Really? My, I should probably take a leaf out of your book, then!" Ray smirked, admiring the alphabetically arranged folders. "I almost miss the lectures Gregory used to give me, back in the day…"
I think even I want to give you a lecture at this point, never mind my father…
"But back to the main point, Miles," said Ray suddenly, and Edgeworth hadn't even been aware of a main point existing, "how are you doing, recently?"
"Me?" The abrupt change in topic was more than enough for Edgeworth to pause for several moments, blinking rapidly. "I'm… I'm doing well, Mr. Shields, thank you. But… why do you ask?"
"Oh, nothing." Ray turned partially away, one hand subconsciously reaching up to stroke his hat. "It's just that… Your uncle Ray spent some time researching your history. A spotless win record for four years straight? That's certainly impressive."
"Mr. Shields…" Edgeworth looked away, hands clenching impulsively. "Please… Don't mock me."
"That wasn't my intention. Not this time, Miles." Though Ray's eyes were serious, there was something regretful in his gaze. "It's just that… I was thinking, the other day, about everything that had happened since our re-acquaintance, and it dawned on me that… It's my fault Von Karma took you away, really."
Edgeworth hesitated. "Mr. Shields…?" He ventured.
Ray shook his head, Gregory Edgeworth's hat slipping so that it shadowed his eyes. "That day," his tone was heavy, "the day DL-6 occurred… I should have been there, with Gregory. Oh, Lord knows what I was doing then, missing the trial just like that. Thinking back, I can't even remember… Heh. I can only hope it was something important, or else I can never… forgive myself, you know?"
"Mr. Shields, what's past is past. I don't –"
"No, Miles. I didn't come here just for the files; I came here to apologise." Here, the elder man took off his hat, his chocolate eyes bright with emotion. "I can't run away anymore."
"But…"
"Even after Gregory passed away, I didn't even bother to visit you. Really, I should have stepped up then. I think we would have had fun, if you were under my wing. But I… I betrayed my own conscience, betrayed Gregory, and simply walked away. Perhaps I was too young, too scared to take any responsibility… Heh heh. But that's not a good excuse, is it?" Slowly, he pressed his hat back upon his head, though that did little to disguise the bitterness in his eyes. "And the rest is history. Von Karma became your mentor instead, and you wandered astray. It wasn't your fault though, Miles, and I… I had no ground to mock you like that. You're not a traitor. You never betrayed your father… It was I, who…"
"Mr. Shields," Edgeworth mumbled, but he wasn't entirely sure how to continue. "I'm sure… My father…"
"Miles, I'm sorry," and before the young prosecutor could even react, Ray bowed, deeply, humbly. "I've disappointed your father, and disappointed you. Please accept my apology."
"M-Mr. Shields! Wait, please don't do this…" Somewhat embarrassed, Edgeworth stepped forward and helped the defence attorney up. "I… I accept your apologies, please don't… worry anymore about it. It's over, after all, and I suppose I'm… happy with my role as a prosecutor." He paused, considering his next words. "It's not my father's job, but my aim is no different from Father's. I want to make sure justice is served, to uncover the truth… And I'm doing this as a prosecutor. I hope you understand."
Ray nodded, and when he smiled, there was a kindness in his eyes that Miles had not seen for a long time. "I understand, Miles." There was an almost nostalgic hint in his expression. "Looking at you… It really is like looking at a second Gregory."
I… look like Father? For a moment, Edgeworth could only dip his head as the childish admirations of a boy for his father rushed through his chest. For so long, I've doubted, and worried… But today, at least, it seems as though I finally have an answer of some sort…
"Thank you." His voice was quiet, but sincere, and Ray seemed to understand the unspoken words behind his tone, for he smiled once more, a full, satisfied smile.
"You really are a good kid, Miles."
"Well! This should keep me occupied for a while!" declared Ray, half an hour or so later, four thick folders tucked securely underneath an arm. "Sorry for disturbing you, Miles. Keep working, will ya?"
"It's alright, Mr. Shields," Edgeworth nodded politely. "I'm honoured to be of assistance."
"C'mon, you don't need to be so formal to your Uncle Ray now, hmm?" Ray arched a brow in faint amusement, then all too soon, his expression became grave once more. "Seriously though, thank you for all you've done, Miles. Hopefully, with these folders, I'll be able to save a few innocent lives. Redeem myself, if that is possible."
"… Good luck," Edgeworth murmured, and lifted his hand. Even though there is no reason for redemption anymore, Mr. Shields. I've never harboured any ill feeling towards you, and as for Father… I'm sure he has forgiven you a long time ago…
"You too." Ray returned, and reached out to grasp Edgeworth's outstretched hand, dark, chocolate eyes reflecting the solemn man hidden beneath the smooth, joking smirks.
"Take care, Prosecutor Edgeworth."
"WHOOOOP! Congratulations, Prosecutor Edgeworth, on another victory, sir!"
As always, the eager face of Detective Gumshoe was the first to greet Miles as he stepped out of the crowded courtroom. The large man looked like an excited puppy, and, if he had a tail, Miles was sure it would be wagging right now.
"… 'Guilty' in one day! That's amazing…! … Always been fantastic, Mr. Edgeworth, sir!"
"Thank you, detective," Edgeworth interrupted, coolly brushing aside the tidal wave of praise surging through the detective's mouth. "Unfortunately, if you could excuse me, I need to take my leave…"
"Huh? Wait, why are you leaving so soon, sir?" The detective had blocked his way before he had even attempted a step. "Are you not going to celebrate today?"
Yes, well, even if I were to celebrate, detective, I doubt you, of all people, could afford it… Aloud, though, he said: "No thank you, Gumshoe. Not today. I still have some paperwork to complete. We'll celebrate on another date." Really, if I held a banquet every time I won a trial, I would most certainly be reduced to eating instant noodles every day, just like the good detective…
"So, uh… What about me, sir?"
As much as he wished to escape, the unexpected question did warrant some attention, and somewhat surprised, Edgeworth paused in his steps. "… What about you, detective?"
"I'm, um, just wondering, sir…" Gumshoe scratched his head, looking sheepish. "I, uh, don't have a car today."
Edgeworth kept his face carefully blank. "… And…?"
"And…" The detective's head positively drooped with sadness. "I-I can't get home today, sir, without a car."
"You could always take the public transport," suggested Miles, struggling to suppress the feeling of unease growing in his chest.
"W-Well, yeah, I would, sir, b-but…" Gumshoe stuck both hands in his pockets and shuffled his feet. He looked like a guilty child. "If I spend all my money on bus fares, then I'll starve the next week!"
Sighing, Edgeworth made an internal note to give the poor man an occasional pay rise. "How about walking home, detective?"
The other man shook his head glumly. "Too far away, sir." Then, his eyes raised and he shot the prosecutor his best kicked puppy impression. "… So, uh, I was wondering, sir, if you, uh… could just… uh…"
Oh god. Edgeworth resisted a shiver.
"… drive me home, just tonight, Um…"
N-No… I don't want to… No…
"Detective," Edgeworth licked his lips. His throat suddenly felt dry. "Are you sure there's no, um, other way for you to get home? I mean…"
At his words, Gumshoe's kicked puppy face quickly evolved into 'stabbed puppy'. His whole body sagged like a bag of defeated potatoes. "… So even Mr. Edgeworth can't…" His voice turned small. "… Never mind, sir… I'll just… sleep with the defendants in the courtrooms for tonight…"
Damn.
"… Alright. Just this once," Edgeworth gritted his teeth. Even I'm not so cold-hearted. "But a word of warning, detective: no more exceptions, understand?" Or else your wage – or what little remains of it – will suffer dearly indeed…
Nevertheless, the clouds that had been precipitating over Gumshoe's heads cleared immediately, and the detective beamed like a child receiving Christmas presents early. "I knew it, sir!" He exclaimed, happily. "I knew you were a good person, after all, sir!"
… As opposed to a demon who doesn't ferry detectives from work and back, yes…
"I mean," Gumshoe continued, blabbering senselessly to himself as they made their way towards the car park. "I've never, ever sat in Mr. Edgeworth's car before! Even though I'd wash it every two weeks until I can see my own face in the reflection… I never thought I'd be able to –"
"Indeed, detective," interrupted Edgeworth, somewhat impatiently, "but bear in mind that I have lots of work I must finish, and if you want to go home anytime soon, you should hurry."
Awkwardly, Gumshoe scratched his head, and gave a hasty 'Yes, sir!' followed by a salute, though unfortunately that did not lessen his praise any. "… thought you were avoiding me, Mr. Edgeworth, sir!" He said, after around five seconds of blissful silence. "I was getting worried, sir! You don't know what it's like…"
Edgeworth sighed, quietly to himself.
"But I knew I didn't have to worry!" Confidently, Gumshoe thumped his chest. "I just know Mr. Edgeworth still thinks of me at times –"
"Yes, that's wonderful, detective. But say that aloud again and you'll be sleeping here, in court, tonight, do you understand?"
"W-Why?" Gumshoe's face fell, almost immediately. "H-Have I done something wrong again, Mr. Edgeworth, sir?"
How on Earth did I meet this fool? Edgeworth rubbed his face in exasperation.
Never again would he dabble in business that wasn't his. A simple defence, six years ago, a simple attempt to seek out the truth, and suddenly this man was stuck to him like – for want of a better word – gum. For six whole years, the cheerful detective had lumbered after him, like a great big dog reunited with his master and determined not to lose itself again.
… Ridiculous. Yet at the same time, he had to admit the detective had his moments of usefulness. There were definitely cases, thought Edgeworth, that would have ended disastrously without his help.
Especially where that man is also concerned… How many times would he have lost his life, had it not been for detective Gumshoe?
He was so caught up in his thoughts that he almost walked right past his own car. It was an impressive vehicle, polished crimson finish proud upon a sleek, beautiful frame. He had taken care over his car – it was one of his most prized possessions, as well as his first, and evidently, the effort he had taken to preserve it in such a pristine state was not missed by the detective, for he ran around it with eyes wide like a child during Christmas, words of admiration pouring rapidly out of his mouth. "Wow, as expected of Mr. Edgeworth! This is amazing!" He exclaimed, as though he were hardly able to contain his excitement. "How many pots of instant noodles is this worth, do you think, sir?"
"Enough to last you for half a lifetime, I presume." Edgeworth answered dryly. "You may get in, detective, but take care not to touch the paint with your grubby hands, and do not bring in any dirt, or else I may have to cut your end of month salary to –"
"A-Argh! I get it! I'm sorry, sir!" Panicking, the detective obediently closed his mouth and eased himself into the vehicle, his expression one of pure terror. "I-I'll… I'll try and be careful, sir!"
"Really…" Sighing in exasperation, Edgeworth pulled himself into the driver's seat and started the engine, taking a satisfied moment to enjoy the thrum of power rumbling throughout the vehicle. "I didn't think you would fall to such a state, detective. Surely, surely, you have enough money for a bus ride home?" I refuse to believe that he is too poor to buy a ticket home. I'm not so harsh, am I?
"Well…" Somewhat sheepishly, Gumshoe scratched his head, his elbow brushing dangerously close to Edgeworth's temple in the movement. "I, uh, I do have money for the bus, yeah, but, uh, if I use it to get home then I won't have anything left for dinner." He sighed, heavy brows furrowing pitifully. "I guess… I'm just not good enough to enjoy any luxuries, huh?"
Please don't look at me with those puppy eyes of yours… Turning his head stubbornly away in order to mask the guilt that must have been showing in his eyes, Edgeworth tried to focus upon the road. "Evidently, working under me isn't getting you enough money," he commented, somewhat bitterly. "In that case, why don't you transfer elsewhere?"
"Wh-What do you mean, sir?" Gumshoe stared, his expression uncomprehending. "Are you… Are you saying…?"
"It would be fairly simple for you to transfer under another prosecutor, would it not?" Edgeworth stated bluntly, not even certain himself as to what direction he was taking the conversation down towards. "I'm sure there will be one out there who would be willing to give you a pay rise, every so often. You… You don't have a duty to stay by me."
"A-Are you… Are you firing me, sir?" Gumshoe mumbled, and Edgeworth was surprised to hear a tremor in the other's voice. "I-I'm… I'm sorry about that time with the coffee! I didn't mean to spill it… I didn't think those papers were important, sir! I didn't know –"
"Wait, that was you?" Edgeworth found himself gaping, hands tightening suddenly around the wheel. "Why didn't you tell m-?! No, I digress. I am not firing you." Though I shall need more details on the incident with the coffee. "Detective, I was simply asking you a question." He took in a deep breath. "It's been, almost six years now, I'd say. Why… Why have you stayed with me for so long? I don't see how you could have benefited by being my subordinate. I've given you nothing except a controversial reputation and a lower than average wage, particularly in my… earlier years." The words came out easier as he spoke them. Why…? How? How could someone as cold and undeserving of sympathy as I, earn your loyalty?
"Oh, um…" The detective appeared slightly bemused. Apparently, this question had never occurred him before. "That's, uh, kinda deep, sir. And to be honest, I've never thought of it like that." He paused. "Hmm… I guess, well, you just gave off a kind of… trustworthy aura, sir, if you know what I mean?" Here, the kind hearted detective smiled, a smile that was both naive and yet so sincere. "I mean, OK, sure, when we first met, you had a sort of 'if looks could kill' feel about you –"
Ouch. That actually hurts.
"- But then, when I saw that you were working so hard to prove my innocence, sir! I just thought to myself 'Wow! This kid is such a good person!' And, uh, yeah. I think you're a really selfless person, sir. I don't think I know anyone like you, sir!"
"… I see," Edgeworth shook his head, smiling faintly. "That's… very kind of you detective, though I fear you may be mistaken. There are too many people out there better than me."
"Really?" Gumshoe frowned, thinking hard. "But everyone thinks you're a good person, Mr. Edgeworth, sir! Honestly! Even that man, you know, became a defence attorney because of you, sir! I could tell immediately, as soon as I heard about your story. He's just imitating you, you know, sir? He even admitted it himself!"
"Oh, you mean… him?" How ridiculous. Of course, only Gumshoe could conjure up such fantastical ideas. "He is far more worthy of your respect than me."
"He's always talking about 'trusting your clients'," said Gumshoe, thoughtfully. "You know, Mr. Edgeworth, sir? He trusts his clients like you trust us."
The prosecutor was not able to respond in time because, abruptly breaking apart from the conversation, the detective exclaimed: "We're here, sir!" It was though he were receiving a pleasant birthday surprise. "Wow, sitting in Mr. Edgeworth's car really is different from driving a police van home!"
"You're perfectly welcome, detective," Edgeworth nodded politely, rolling the window down once the other man had clambered out. "I hope you have a good night's rest, as we still have plenty of work for tomorrow."
"Got it, sir!" Gumshoe nodded, saluting. "I'll see you tomorrow, Prosecutor Edgeworth!"
And with that, Edgeworth could only watch the detective's retreating figure disappear into the dusk with a faint churning in his heart.
Before he could help himself, he had leaned out of the window and called: "Detective!"
It took a few shouts, but presently the detective turned and, with an expression of puzzlement clear upon his face, came back towards the car. "Is something the matter, sir?" He inquired, blinking.
Edgeworth paused, and then, after some consideration, took out a couple of notes from his wallet. "Here," he muttered, a little awkwardly pressing the money forward. "Take it."
"H-Huh?" Jaw dropping for what must have been the third time this evening, Gumshoe could do nothing except gawk at the money offered tantalisingly before him. "M-Mr. Edgeworth! Wh-What are you –?"
"Take it, and don't ask any questions," Edgeworth growled, feeling somehow unable to meet the other's gaze directly. "This should be able to keep you going for a little time. As for your salary this month, I will have a discussion with your superiors, and see if I could… raise it." He hesitated, a little embarrassed. "You've been doing a good job, detective."
There were tears swimming in the older man's eyes as he reluctantly accepted the money. "M-Mr. Edgeworth, sir…!" He sniffed, furiously wiping at his nose with a dirty sleeve. "I… I'm…! Thank you so much, sir! I'll… I'll work even harder from now on, sir! I won't disappoint you!"
"Good," Edgeworth nodded. It was just a few twenty dollar notes… "I appreciate your gratitude, but we can save this for later. I need to get back now, and you should do the same, detective. We still have a lot of work for tomorrow, and I need you to be at your best."
"Y-Yes sir!" Gumshoe exclaimed, nodding so frantically it seemed as though his head was in danger of rolling right off his shoulders. Even his usually slightly hunched back straightened slightly as he took a step back. "Take care, Mr. Edgeworth, sir!"
And even as the prosecutor drove off into the darkness he was still able to see, in the reflection of his rear view mirror, the stoic form of his subordinate standing in the night.
He's a good, trustworthy man, thought the prosecutor himself. He's never abandoned me, not even once.
… And neither had he.
One of the many letters found stored in Edgeworth's drawer:
Dear Miles, how are you doing?
Sorry I couldn't write to you last week! The school organised a camping trip, so I went along with a couple of friends. I'm gonna put some pictures with this letter, so you can see what we've been doing. Camping is tiring stuff! We got lost – stupid teacher pointed us up a giant hill in completely the wrong direction – and you wouldn't believe how heavy the backpacks were! 60kg! I felt like I was going to die! You're lucky you didn't go though, actually, Miles, because we were in the middle of a field, and the people who had hay fever were suffering all through the night, or so I hear. Henry said he couldn't even breathe. I can't imagine you camping, to be honest, Miles. It doesn't help that Larry was there too. I shared a tent with him, and in the middle of the night he rolled over and kicked me! Not on purpose, at least I don't think so, but I've got a bruise. 'If something smells, it's usually the Butz'. You remember we used to say that back in primary school, don't you? I mean, we're in high school now, but still, it doesn't seem as though anything's changed. Larry's still gonna be the Butz, wherever he is.
Actually, now that I think about it, we shared a tent between three people, so you could have come along too. You probably could have kept us sane.
Anyway, how's life for you in Germany? What's it like there? It must be so different from America, quiet and historical, right? My Dad keeps telling me about how amazing you are, already studying abroad whilst the rest of us are pretty much doomed to stay in LA forever. Man, you just left without saying anything! You totally owe Larry and I a free dinner out once you get back, OK?
Haha, no, I'm just joking. You can just buy a present for us, and we'll forgive you. Speaking (or writing?) about presents, did you get the book I sent you for Christmas? Something like 'Law Systems Across the Globe'. My mom said you'd find it interesting, because you'd always wanted to be a defence attorney, didn't you? I hope you'll get to use it. It was pretty heavy! Make good use of it, 'cos if I get into trouble in the future, I'll be counting on you to bail me out!
Honestly though, I was gonna send you some of those Steel Samurai figurines that are pretty big in the US at the moment. Larry said you wouldn't have that sort of thing in Germany, so I was gonna buy one for you. But then my mom had already got the book, and I wasn't sure if you'd like this kinda thing, (it's almost like a souvenir, you know?) so I didn't get it…
Hey, but whilst we're on the subject of souvenirs, you must have been to a lot of places in Germany by now, right? You should send us some photos! Or souvenirs, you know? I wouldn't mind! You can take it with you when you come back here, and we can all gape over your experiences abroad. We're all missing you a lot here. It has been, what, 7 years now? It seems like such a long time. I bet you've grown taller too. Probably taller than me, I bet. I've been growing really slowly and it's kinda annoying. I'm only up to Larry's nose.
Just wondering though, Miles. You are coming back, right? I really want to see you again. I guess… I feel like I still owe you something. I'll never forget what you did for me. Thank you for being there, I guess. I swear I will return the favour one day, somehow.
Actually, well, even if it's a little early to talk about stuff like this, I am 16 now, and I've started to think about what I should do in the future. Recently, I've been thinking, being a lawyer isn't so bad, is it? Occasionally, when I get a bit carried away, I remember the stuff you've told me about 'defending the helpless' and I kinda want to give it a go myself. Not sure how good I will be at it, but it's worth a try, right? I bet you're still working for that yourself, aren't you? Maybe, if we both work hard, we'll be able to meet in court someday! But hopefully on the same side. I don't think I'd stand a chance against you!
Saying that, I really, really do hope that one day, we'll be able to meet again. I miss you, Miles. Do you miss me?
Your friend,
Phoenix
A piece of scrunched up paper found at the bottom of Edgeworth's bin:
Yes.
Eight years later, they met again. The prosecuting prodigy, Miles Edgeworth, going head to head against rookie defence attorney Phoenix Wright, on the 7th September.
And on the 26th December, they sat opposite each other in the detention centre, and it was Wright who looked at him through the thick pane of glass, and smiled, and said:
"You trusted in me, Miles. Now it's my turn to trust you."
Edgeworth's voice trembled slightly as he spoke. "It was so long ago…" He muttered, unable to raise his head. "Is that really enough…?" He couldn't finish, question trailing weakly into thin air. It's not enough. It can't be enough.
But Wright had nodded, firmly.
"Yes."
And on the 28th of December, Miles Edgeworth was acquitted and released.