Chapter 4

The High Prosecutor

This week was culture week and the teacher wanted to talk about Japan today. Miles was very fond of Samurais so he didn't mind, and while she gave their history lesson, Larry drew pictures in his notebook and passed them to Phoenix who in turn passed them to Miles. Miles knew they weren't supposed to be doing it, but they were very cool pictures and—surprisingly—relevant.

"This one is you," Larry said to him and Miles took the recent picture and studied it. The warrior had a mask like a demon and a plume in his helmet. His sword was ridiculously large.

"It's like a Final Fantasy sword," Phoenix said, and Miles nodded even though he had no idea what Phoenix was talking about.

"Can I keep this?" Miles asked Larry.

"Um, sure," Larry said, "Do you want me to sign it? So when I'm like famous it'll be worth a lot of money."

"Oh, okay," Miles said and he handed the drawing back and Larry scribbled his name in the corner of the drawing.

"Sign mine too," Phoenix said.

"Larry, Phoenix," the teacher scolded, "Pay attention."

Miles frowned and ducked slightly. Larry and Phoenix both sat up straight and looked ahead—but their compliance only lasted a few minutes. Larry was drawing a dragon now.

"Oh," Miles whispered, "Make it breathe fire. No—flames—coming out of its mouth."

They hung out at Larry's desk while he worked on his dragon picture during the break. Before class continued again each of them were given several pieces of thin colored paper, cut into perfect squares.

"Sweet," Larry said.

Miles frowned at the paper laid on the desk in front of him. Phoenix was examining a square of paper—holding it up to the light.

"Okay class, settle down," the teacher said, marking the end of break, "Now, we're going to learn about origami. Origami is the Japanese art of paper folding."

She motioned at a few finished models displayed on her desk. She started telling them a story about a girl in Japan who was sick and folded cranes. Miles looked from the models on the teacher's desk to the square papers in front of him. Before the end of the teacher's story Larry was already finishing the last few folds on his own model.

"Ooh look!" one of the girls sitting nearby pointed at Larry's crane. He grinned and pulled on its tail and it flapped its wings. Miles stared at it amazed, and studied the flat square of paper again.

"Very good, Larry," the teacher said, "Now, we're going to fold a crane together. First I want you to take one of the papers you've been given and fold it in half diagonally."

She held up the paper square that she'd folded into a triangle. Miles took one of the paper squares and very carefully lined up the corners.

"Now fold it over again like this," the teacher said, "and see how this opens up like this? You can open it with your finger—like this. Now you press it flat so that—"

"Wait!" Miles said, "What did you do? Mine looks different."

"Larry will you help Miles?" the teacher said.

Larry grabbed Miles' paper and stared at it, "What did you do?"

"I did what she said," Miles said defensively.

The rest of the class continued with their models and Miles was left behind. To make him feel better, Larry took a fresh piece of paper and made a crane for Miles. Miles set it on the edge of his desk and glared at it. He took a fresh piece of paper.

"I want to make one myself," Miles said.

"Here," Phoenix said, "Copy what I do."

Phoenix took him step by step through the folding of the crane. The class grew loud with chatter as the other kids made cranes on their own. Larry had moved on to models of other animals. While Miles looked around surreptitiously and frowned at the other kids.

"I don't get it," Miles said.

Phoenix showed him the fold again. And again.

The class made dozens of paper cranes and the teacher collected them and strung them along on a string. They had to write their names on their cranes. Miles struggled with the creased paper square in his hand—none of the cranes that had been hung up had his name written on it.

"You can write your name on one of mine," Larry said after the teacher let them go to lunch. Most of the class had already vacated the classroom.

"I'm going to make one on my own," Miles said stubbornly.

Larry shrugged and left after the others. Phoenix too had gone to lunch and Miles was alone in the classroom. Why couldn't he figure it out? His frustration grew.

Miles looked at the colored paper cranes strung across the classroom and sobbed. He crumpled his latest attempt and threw it on the floor and put his head on the desk and started to cry.

"Miles?"

Miles looked up, Phoenix had returned to the classroom to find him.

"It's lunchtime," Phoenix said.

Miles didn't answer but he wiped his face with his sleeve. Phoenix didn't make fun of him.

"Are you that upset about it?" Phoenix said.

"I don't get it," Miles said, "How come I can't—"

"It's okay, Miles…" Phoenix said, "It's just origami. I'll teach you how to make paper airplanes after school. Airplanes are way better than cranes."

"I don't know why I can't…" Miles said.

Miles was sitting in his office puzzling over his recent interaction with his boss. Someone knocked on the door. Miles startled so hard he stood and fell back into his chair. He smoothed the ruffles of his cravat and went to answer the door.

"Who is it?"

"Me, sir!" Miles frowned at Detective Gumshoe's gruff voice muffled on the other side of the heavy door. He hesitated and then unlocked it and let the man in. Gumshoe was carrying a box of case files. Miles went to the other side of the office and turned on his electric kettle.

"Mister Edgeworth, sir," Gumshoe said and walked in to plunk the box onto Miles' desk, "I heard you were in today, for the meeting."

Miles didn't say anything. He stared out at the overcast sky and waited for the water to boil.

"I thought you might be interested in the current cases, you could catch up before you went into the meeting."

Miles looked over at the big detective, "Do you want tea?"

"Tea sir?" Gumshoe said with earnest surprise, "Sure. You're the best, Mr. Edgeworth."

Miles turned away from Gumshoe, and he bit his lip and smiled tight-lipped at the window. He had one loyal supporter. However simple or bumbling Gumshoe could be, Miles could always count on him. Miles cleared his throat and the kettle clicked off, the water was boiling.

"There are paper cups over there," Miles said brusquely, "I won't have another cup smashed."

Gumshoe nodded and took a paper cup while Miles poured hot water over the leaves in the teapot. He closed the teapot and stared at it while it steeped.

"You doing alright, sir?" Gumshoe asked.

"I'm well Detective," Miles said.

"I knew you had that meeting, and I know how you don't like not being prepared, so I—"

"You said," Miles said and poured himself some tea before turning to pour some into Gumshoe's paper cup, "You came for the meeting? So Gant knows about this meeting too?"

"I don't know," Gumshoe said and burned his mouth on the tea. Miles watched him juggle the hot paper cup from hand to hand before setting it on the desk.

"The Chief said something about putting the Honeymoon case together, they want to go to trial on the second."

"I'm not involved in the Honeymoon case," Miles said quietly.

"But it's a big case, sir!" Gumshoe's face lit up, "They said there would be cameras from the television station at the courthouse."

Miles barely managed to hide the look of horror that crossed his face.

"You'll look great on TV and you'll be famous!" Gumshoe continued.

"The Darke trial was a serial murder case," Miles said and finished his tea. He moved over to the box the detective had brought in, "I don't think I want to go through that again."

"You have to face your fears," Gumshoe said raising his fist in the air for emphasis, "Everyone is talking about you since the Hammond case and what happened to Von Karma. This is your chance to prove everyone wrong!"

Miles had the topmost case file open in his hands, he looked up at the detective, eyes narrowed.

"Who's talking?"

"What?"

"You said I'd have to prove them wrong… Whom are we talking about?"

Gumshoe looked lost for a moment, "I don't know directly, sir. But I know that you—"

Miles closed the file and set it down. He smiled at the detective, "You know what, detective? I don't care."

"You're the best there is," Gumshoe said, "That's why they talk."

Miles finished sorting the files into piles and picked up one pile, "We should go."

"It's only for the prosecutors," Gumshoe said.

"I'll let you into 1202," Miles said, "I think Mister Von Karma has cookies in there."

"Come on Miles," Dad said and rushed him out of the house.

"But Dad," Miles said, "There's no school today. So why—?"

"No school?" Dad said looked panicked, "What—why not?"

"Today is the first day of winter break," Miles said, "So I didn't have to wake up early at all but—"

Dad just frowned and went back into the house. He pulled out his address book and thumbed through it and punched a number into the phone. Miles frowned up at him and set his school bag down.

"Can't I come to court with you?"

Dad just put his fingers to his lips to silence him.

"Good morning, this is Greg Edgeworth," Dad paused and then said, "I'm sorry for waking you."

Miles sulked and crossed his arms. Dad's brow furrowed and he glared at Miles and Miles straightened up.

"Well it's just—I have to be in court this morning and I need someone to watch Mi—" Dad was glaring at the wall now, "No, there's no school today."

Miles startled when Dad hung up the phone and grabbed the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.

"Dad I could—"

"No Miles, some other time, maybe," Dad was already thumbing through his little address book again.

"Good morning, I hope I'm not disturbing you," Dad said into the phone, "This is Greg Edgeworth… I'm well, thank you. I'm sorry to do this but I have to be in court this morning and I don't have anyone to watch Miles… Will you? Thank you so much. I owe you. Thanks. We'll be along shortly if that's all right?"

Miles frowned at his father, but Dad only smiled and picked up his briefcase and took Miles by the arm, "Problem solved, boy-o, no need to be upset."

Miles left his schoolbag in the house and got into the car with his father and they drove to Phoenix's house. Miles didn't feel so bad anymore.

Phoenix's house was not as large as his father's house, it shared walls with the houses left and right of it—Dad called it a multiplex—and Phoenix only had a tiny square of yard out back. But it was enough for them to play, and that would be all right—if he couldn't go to court—it was enough to be with his friend.

Phoenix's mom met Dad in the drive, and Dad apologized that he was already late and had to run and he thanked her again.

"Miles!" Phoenix said when he went inside. Phoenix was still wearing pajamas and his mom was making breakfast. She told Miles to take off his shoes and his school jacket.

"How come you're visiting so early?" Phoenix said.

"My Dad had to work," Miles said.

"Oh, lawyer stuff, huh?" Phoenix laughed and then his mom sent him to go change out of his pajamas.

"Miles, hon, have you had breakfast?"

"Um, no, ma'am," Miles said, "Dad thought I would be late for school. So we were rushed this morning."

"It's good," she smiled sweetly at him, "You can help me set the table. Nick! You better wash your face, too!"

"Mom!" Phoenix shouted back. Miles grinned and Phoenix's mom gave him forks and napkins to set out.

"Will you set the table Miles?"

Miles nodded emphatically and went to do as she asked. He eyed the tall stack of pancakes she'd made hungrily. But he stood by the table and waiting for further orders.

She smiled as she carried the pancakes to the table, "I hope you like pancakes, Miles."

"Pancakes are my favorite, Misses Wright!" Miles said.

"Then it's lucky you came for breakfast," Phoenix's mom said, "Go on, sweetie and have a seat. Would you like milk or orange juice?"

"Um," Miles said pausing behind the chair he'd chosen, "Milk, please."

She smiled at him, "Aren't you just the cutest little man? And such nice manners too."

Miles almost blushed.

Suddenly, Miles wished she could be his mom too.

Miles was glaring at Chief Skye. All of the prosecutors and several legal aids were gathered in the conference room for the meeting. A few, like Miles, had come in with case files under their arms. Chief refused to meet his eye.

Miles uncrossed his arms and sat forward in his chair, hands on his knees. His brow was still furrowed.

"What do you mean, High Prosecutor? Shouldn't there be a discussion about it?" He said finally. Murmurs flitted about the room in agreement, though no one spoke up.

"Prosecutor Edgeworth," Chief Skye said continuing in a very commanding tone that warned against arguing with her, "The decision was made much higher up. If you don't think you can handle the—"

"It's fine," Miles muttered and crossed his arms again. Winston Payne was sitting across from him rumpling pages on a yellow legal pad and grinding his teeth.

"Good," Chief Skye said, "You'll move your things to room 1202 by close of business tomorrow."

"Yes Chief," Miles said sharply, still staring at Payne's battered legal pad.

"On to our next order of business," Chief Skye moved on as if the news wasn't a big deal, "Criminal Affairs has attached a case number to the Honeymoon Stalkers case, they've asked the DA to have the case ready to present on the third. Payne you'll be prosecuting that one. Grab whomever you need to finalize your investigation. Also, the POC at Criminal Affairs is Detective Goodman."

Payne sneered at Miles and Miles shrugged. He was rather relieved.

"GZ-121, is going to trial tomorrow, Ferris are you prepared?" Chief Skye continued. Ferris was only a few years older than Miles but his face was shrunken like a prune and his watery blue eyes always seemed like they'd start crying at any moment.

"Yes, Chief," Ferris said.

"It's New Year's Eve, so the caseload is light this week, but remember, we've got less than two months until Clean-up Day, so start sorting through the files that need to be removed to storage. Also, Chief Gant wanted to remind us that Criminal Affairs will be playing the DA on the fifteenth. He says we can forfeit now if we want to save ourselves the embarrassment. I think we ought to give those Dicks something to cry about!"

She said it with a deadpan that shut up the entire room. Then Miles chuckled and the others started to laugh. Chief Skye loosened up enough to smile a little before calling them to order and dismissing them. The room erupted in chatter as the lawyers, paralegals, aides, and clerks filed out of the room. Miles stood to follow the group out.

"Edgeworth," Chief Skye said. She stood near the window looking out. Miles stood beside her but said nothing.

"Are you upset at your appointment?" She said abruptly.

"I'm sorry Chief," he said, "I thought... I was a little surprised. We might have discussed this earlier… When we were in your office."

"I thought about that," she said, "But I thought hearing it in front of the group and not just in private would seem more formal."

"Right," Miles said, and his brow furrowed.

"What do you want for lunch?" She said looking directly at him.

"I'm," Miles said eying her with some nervousness, "Whatever... Um… Actually, if I have to move offices, I should try to do so today… While I'm here."

Chief Skye shrugged casually and looked at him with an eyebrow raised inquisitively, "You're not hungry? It's not as if you couldn't come back afterward."

"Well," Miles said and looked at his watch, "It's already after two."

She smiled, "We'll have to reschedule then, Mister Edgeworth."

"Sure," Miles said, "Some other time."

"Miles, do keep your wits about you," she said.

"Huh," Miles looked at her, "Right. I will…"

"You did take my warning, did you?" She said.

"Come again?" Miles said.

"The higher up you go, the more likely the fall will be fatal," she said quietly.

"Understood," Miles said. He eyed her cautiously. It was always difficult to tell with Chief Skye. Was she friend or foe? Why was he even considering such logic? Weren't they all working on the side of the law?

"Oh and one more thing, Edgeworth," she said a little more loudly. Miles just looked at her, hoping she wouldn't find anything in his expression that told her just how much he wanted to get away from her.

"Have you been practicing that curveball?" She grinned at him.

Miles slapped his forehead and started walking away, "Good day, Chief."

Baseball. Of course.

In his harried departure, Miles missed Chief Skye's smile.

A/N: Thanks for reading!

22SEP2013

Revised and updated. I hope this is helping. I feel better about it anyway.

4JUL2015-Minor edits.