trace (vestiges)
Frederik Mazen is painfully easy to trust, and Miles blames Phoenix for every bit of that phenomenon. After all, the moment he sees Frederik after the elder cuts his hair shorter, slicking it back just as Phoenix does, Miles finds that his instinctive desire to be petulant and aloof fades away, despite his lingering distrust of everyone. His confidence and swagger and strength in the courtroom is too much like the man whom Miles finds lingering upon his thoughts in every spare moment of his days.
Sometimes, looking at Frederik is painful. Miles misses Phoenix too much, on those days. He cannot even watch Steel Samurai reruns to ease the ache as he once did, for all it does is remind him of that final, gentle night by the defense attorney's side, and it almost breaks him each time.
Thankfully, this man truly means nothing more than to mentor Miles, it seems. He takes Miles under his wing without a second thought, showing him the ropes and allowing him to aide on the bench. It feels more than a little strange, seeing just how easy for them to slip into this pattern; at first, Miles feels uneasy standing as a mere aide upon the prosecution's bench- he had not begun prosecuting when he was a mere twenty-years-old to simply become an assistant now- but as time progresses, his ill feelings towards this strangely humbling role dissipate.
After all, standing here by Frederik's side is the best way for Miles to truly understand what he has done wrong all this time. Watching Frederik's movements in court illustrate it perfectly, for whether he wins or whether he loses, this oddly calm man always leaves the courtroom with his head held high, a handsome smile upon his face; nothing about it is false, however. There is no faux persona to be seen. He is truly contented at the end of each trial, even as he suffers the biggest losses, and his dignity inspires awe in all who see him.
For a long time, the secret behind this strength stumps Miles, but eventually, he understands. Frederik Mazen works not to win, but to find the truth.
The elder does not say this explicitly to Miles. Instead, he simply allows Miles to watch from the side, asking for his aid when four hands are more helpful than just two; however, when it comes to matters in court itself, Frederik is quick to quiet Miles down when the younger man longs to object, to push back, to prolong the trial in the hopes of finding a foothold in their failing cases. Frederik never allows him to do this, honestly helping the defense half the time in the process.
It is over drinks one late evening that Miles finally brings up these observations to his mentor, six months into his stay in Germany. "Your final objection was what helped the defense win today. It's as if you… you do not care if you win," he says quietly, sipping a lovely aged whiskey after a long, late-running trial that had ended in their inevitable loss. "Your record is almost split even, you know."
Frederik chuckles, "And that's why the Prosecutor's Office and the judges trust me so much. They know I won't do anything that might implicate an innocent person in order to save my reputation." He raises a brow, smiling knowingly at Miles as he leans his chin on his hand. "You seem to place a lot of value in records, Edgeworth, much like von Karma."
Immediately, Miles bristles, fingers tightening around his glass. Before he can say a word, however, Frederik continues, "But I'm glad you're not more like him. I never met him in person but… well, I heard about his ways."
The inside of his cheek stings from chewing it too much, his arm aching from the force of his fingers wrapping around his elbow anxiously. "I'm… I'm not proud of his methods," he replies after a moment of deliberation. "I want to be better."
Gentle hands extricate his fingers from his arm. Startled, Miles looks up, his entire body heating up in flustered embarrassment as he sees something only akin to pride and want in Frederik's half-lidded eyes. "You are, Miles," he says lowly. "It's… quite humbling to see."
For a moment, Miles is absolutely shell-shocked. What is he supposed to do, to say? His mind races, trying to find words to put onto this emotion, to describe Frederik's expression-
Desire, his mind supplies numbly after a moment.
He has pulled his hand away and shifted back from the table before he is even aware of it, the force of his movements startling the elder. There is an immediate feeling of revulsion, of discomfort, which strikes him so unequivocally that he feels sick upon recognizing that look in the elder's eyes; he has seen this same expression many time on Phoenix's face, but never from another.
He does not want it from another, he realizes, fighting back the urge to run, to hide, to charter a flight and leave as soon as possible. "I- thank you," he says clumsily, avoiding Frederik's gaze. "I appreciate you taking the time to teach me, truly."
He's going to get rid of me, Miles thinks, the urge to vomit growing headier by the second. He's going to tell me I'm not welcome anymore, is that it? Is this why he agreed to help me? And now, I said no, I-
To his surprise, Frederik merely leans back in his chair, regarding him with a curious expression. "…was I wrong?" he murmurs thoughtfully. "I thought you, too, wanted-"
"I have someone," Miles fumbles at last, feeling his face blossoming with heat bright enough to likely match his suit.
The older prosecutor's eyes widen, understanding and awe and a sense of rueful adoration replacing his confusion. "In America, you mean? I haven't seen you with someone here."
Mutely, Miles nods.
Then, to his surprise, Frederik leans back and laughs heartily before pulling his chair in tight under the table. He lowers his voice, the excitement in his eyes making him look years younger. "You should've told me that, Edgeworth!" he chuckles. "Tell me- are they in law?"
His face burns. He nods.
"…Is the reason you're here to learn so you can help them in the future?"
He chews his lip, but nods again.
Frederik looks oddly delighted for a man who has clearly had his advances be shot down, his dark eyes sparkling as he asks, "Why didn't you say so earlier? Edgeworth, stop dancing around your questions about law then! C'mon, we're going back to the office and I'm going to pull out my old records."
"What- why?" Miles splutters. It is well past the hour to be going back to the Prosecutor's Office- in America, he would have accepted it thanks to the workaholic culture, but here?
Without missing a beat, Frederik stands up and stretches, tossing on his jacket with the enthusiasm of a much younger man. "We've got to get you feeling ready to step back into the courtroom on your own so you can head back, right? You can leave them there for so long!" He looks tickled beyond belief. "Gods, I can't believe I've played along with your passive questions thus far. I won't let you hang around if you're not going to be more confident!"
The sense of relief which washes over Miles' shoulders as he silently nods should not impact him as much as it does. Perhaps it is the alcohol that is making him sentimental; perhaps it is the fatigue, or the fact that he suddenly views Frederik as not just a mentor, but a confidant, too. Whatever the reason, Miles finds himself hanging his head low, biting a trembling lip, trying to hold back tears of relief which spring up unbidden in his eyes as he realizes that finally, he has not lost another man whom he respects.