Chapter 1- Sweet Dreams

It was weeks after the end of that case and Miles had been sleeping even less than usual. The need to talk to Franziska had quickly become an obsession, but he always hanged up before he had finished dialing the number. What could he possibly say to her anyway? I'm sorry that, because of me, your father got convicted of murdering my father and trying to frame me for his murder…

He wondered if she hated him and wondered if it was alright to hate himself too. No matter what Wright said, hadn't Miles thrown that gun, none of that would have happened and both he and Franziska would still have their fathers. He wasn't sure anymore who he loathed more between Manfred von Karma and Miles Edgeworth.

In the end, it was she who called him, her voice cold and brittle as ice and her words an indirect plea for help. She had already arrived in the US and she was at the airport right now. She had believed it was her duty to let him know – not that she really wanted to see him anyway, but there were legal issues regarding the management of the estate amongst other things that required their attention…

It had been less than a month since Manfred had been arrested and even though he had yet to undergo trial, everyone knew what the sentence would be – death. Still, Franziska's story was nowhere near plausible. Not only was it administratively much too early to be discussing inheritance and last wills, but he seriously doubted that Franziska was in the mood for such things, not to mention that it hardly concerned Miles anyway. Von Karma likely intended on leaving the son of his enemy nothing else than eternal damnation.

Miles had accepted to meet her all too readily. Both of them were unwilling to admit that while they didn't really want to, while they dreaded the moment they would have to face each other, while they felt that there was nothing left to say, the fact remained that they needed to see each other, needed to make sure that the other wasn't crumbling as completely as they were themselves.

He knew that he looked like a human wreck and Franziska was only the shadow of herself, but none of them acknowledged that fact. Franziska seemed determined to pretend nothing was wrong and declined his invitation to stay at his apartment. Miles went along, if only because he was too scared of the ugly truth which might come out if he pressed her too hard. They were the main clue, her eyes, or more precisely the hate that shone in them when she believed he wasn't looking…

Then she announced her intention to visit her father and, for the first time, he realized how damaged she actually was.

"Are you coming with me?" Franziska asked and he had to make one of the most difficult decisions of his life. She was in blatant denial and he really should have tried and wake her from her illusion. Instead he agreed to accompany her.

Miles thought about how uncharacteristic of Franziska it was to ask anything from him and about how far he would go to win her forgiveness. He also thought about how he had a right to know and how the man who had meant everything to him for so long hadn't even granted him that. He couldn't understand how Manfred on Karma could have pretended for fifteen years, letting him live in a lie while he quietly but passionately hated him. Miles wondered if anything he might say could sway von Karma and make him listen to him, make him talk.

The second Manfred's eyes landed on his former protégé, he turned his back on his two visitors.

"You!" he apostrophized the security guard. "I want to go back to my cell. Now."

"Wait!" Franziska had spoken up, interrupting the guard unceremoniously. "Wait, papa…" she repeated more softly and Manfred momentarily froze in his tracks.

When he turned back toward them, his face was a mask of hatred.

"Why is he here?" he seethed.

Miles could see the charred shreds of Franziska's hopes fluttering across the room. Her eyes were wide with shock.

"I'm sorry."

She was doing her best to pacify him, but her apology was also a confession and it didn't escape the older man's notice.

"How dare you bring him here!? Get him out of my sight!"

The legs of the chair screeched as Miles stood up in silence. He should have known better than to think he had anything to do here. He might as well leave by himself without waiting for the guards to escort him out.

"Why? Why are you doing this?"

Franziska's voice was heavy with grief and cracked mid sentence. Miles could see how hard she was trying to put up a brave face, and failing. Her expression was guarded, but her back was unnaturally stiff, hands tightly clasped in her lap.

"Be quiet, Franziska."

"I won't! How could you…? You- I thought we were a family!"

It was strange hearing her challenge her father in such a manner. It was the first time she ever dared question his authority and principles, and – as Miles suspected – it would also be the last…

Von Karma's gaze travelled from his daughter's blank face to the comforting hand that rested on her shoulder. In the end, it was that innocent gesture that seemingly sent the old man over the edge.

"How dare you turn her against me, Edgeworth!?" he bellowed, so loud that the microphone seemed to screech in protest. Miles watched transfixed as tiny drops of spittle splattered the glass. He had never been so grateful about the thick glass partition separating the prisoners from their visitors as he was now.

"How dare you touch her?!"

His former mentor's hands were grasping the edge of the table so tight that his knuckles were white. His face was contorted with fury; his eyes, mad.

"I will kill you, do you hear me? I will kill you!"

Before he could react, Franziska jumped on her feet and left the room, slamming the door behind her. Manfred pounded his fist on the table and the glass shattered.

Miles raised his arms to shield his face as thousands of shards came flying at him, a rain of deadly daggers slashing their way through the air. Or maybe through him.

"Die!"

Gingerly, he brought his slit wrists up to feel the gash on his neck. He was bleeding and Manfred was laughing, an insane laugh which didn't sound like him…

"Look at me!" he commanded.

"No! No! I don't want to."

"Look at me," the voice repeated.

Miles's entire body gave a violent lurch as his eyes finally opened, but the red wouldn't go away – there was blood everywhere. He wanted to scream, but his voice came out as a hoarse and weak cry; he wanted to run but his muscles were like lead.

And standing over him, there was this man… the man from the parking lot.

"Sweet dreams?"

"What have you done to me?"

"I'm giving you the choice I never had…"