Turnabout endings

Present day

"That fool," I muttered to myself. "Why did he leave so early?"

"He's involved in some case," my little brother managed to say, with Frank still fawning over him

"Oh, you poor little baby," Frank mocked him.

"Stop that," Miles glared at him.

"He hasn't changed at all has he?" Frank asked me, his lips almost forming a smirk. I shake my head to confirm his thought.

"But you have though," Frank tells me. "You've changed a lot," he finished. I did not know how to respond to that. Did he mean this positively? Or does he mean that I have changed in a negative way?

"I mean in a good way," he confirmed my inner thoughts.

" thank you, I think," I add, unsure whether I should feel annoyed that I was not "good" in the first place or should just be delighted for "changing".

"What case is that foolish fool working on?" I ask out of curiosity

"I don't know, he was more concerned about my health than boasting about a grand case," he answers me vaguely. So the case is "grand", grand as in very famous, grand as in he will be noted down in history for taking – and possibly winning – such a case. Phoenix Wright is an incredible idiot, head diving into serious situation, but that only made me respect him in the slightest.

"You want to take him on, don't you?" Miles smirks. Actually I have no intention of even seeing that failure of a human, giving the circumstances I am much more occupied than to play silly games with that boy, but maybe if I give the expected answers, I may get the answer.

"Maybe, that has nothing to do you!" I answer in my usual hostile manner.

"Ha. Of course you do," he answers, even rolls his eyes at me.

"You mean that man who just walked in is the Phoenix Wright?!" Frank exclaimed. Miles and I nod our heads in confirmation.

"Whoa," he answers.

"I don't see what's so amazing about him," I question Frank's amazement.

"He took that bastard down, he hammered him, and he totally gunned him down!" Frank whispers but his voice still full of excitement. "Oh, but, I'm sorry about it all," Frank apologises to Miles and quickly gives him a hug. So I wasn't the only person feeling responsible about it all.

After a few minutes of silence Miles answers "It's not your fault," not even glancing back at me. Frank just hugged him again while Miles – probably fed up of all the fawning – pushes him away.

"So how is everyone else?" Frank turns to me, eager to know about my sister and her family.

"They are a bit… unwell," I answer him vaguely, not willing to tell him the absolute truth- especially not with Miles around. Hopefully my answers wouldn't remind him the reason why I was in America.

"You guys had another argument?" he asks

"Somewhat," I answer again

"That bitch. She really needs to stop this, give me her number and I'll call her," he suggests

"It isn't necessary," I answer more sharply than expected, slightly offended over his choice of words to describe my deceased sister.

"What happened this time?" Miles asks me. Well actually she and I had a squabble two months ago over that failure of a man and a week ago I find learn that she and her partner had lost their heads – literally- and I find that their only child is now an orphan and also traumatised since she was the one that found their dead bodies. But how was I really meant to say all that in a sensitive way?

"The bastard," I answer him; sure that he understands what I mean by that answer. I was right, the two of them sigh at my response and Frank decides that it's my turn to be coddled over.

"Franziska, you can't argue with who she chooses to be with. It's her life in the end," Miles advises me, stunned that I could be so shallow. That actually wasn't what I meant, but I did not want to mention anything. I take a really deep breath, trying not to allow the entire anger take over me as it usually does.

"I need some air," I answer and leave the room. The corridors didn't smell any better than the patient rooms; it smelt twice as worse. The odour of blood and burnt flesh (I am not exaggerating) crawled into my nose, making me feel nauseous. Then came the small girl that helped Miles when he was poisoned.

"I'm really sorry for your loss," she apologises, her eyes watery as if she'd been crying. Did she think Miles was dead?

"Oh no, Miles is still here, he's in that room if you want to see him. In fact if it wasn't for you and a few others he would not even be here," I try to clear up the small error.

"No I didn't mean him," she answers in between hiccups. Why is she crying so much?

"Oh, well what is bothering you?" I ask, unsure where this conversation is leading.

"Oh… don't worry about me," she breathes "haven't you seen the news?" she asks me. I shake my head, worried about what she will say.

"I-it's your father," she informs, "he's dead," she waits for me to react in some sort of way but I remain motionless. The only thought that processed in my head was

"Wasn't he dead three years ago?"

AN: hi everyone, and terrible sorry for not updating in a while. I would love to explain, but I feel timid. In short, a lot of personal things occurred and my life was – and still is – repairing. I'm very prone to stress and I did a lot of regrettable things. I must admit, I was also a bit lazy to write the next chapter but I have now, not the best I know, and I am so sorry! I'm still recovering but its holiday time now, so I am planning to write a bit more with this, but probably not publish it till a bit later. And also, if anyone actually wants an update sooner (highly doubt it since my writing is terribly terrible) don't be afraid to message. Seriously I need a kick in the face for being so irresponsible. And again I am so sorry! – runs away from non-existent angry mob-