Quicksand

Chapter 1: In The Mirror

"Will you be at the trial?"

"...You know I would love to be... but I have an investigation I must start this morning..." Miles gave her a slightly saddened smile, and then leaned in to kiss the twenty-year-old prosecutor in the passenger's seat of his car on the lips, the contact brief, but sincere. "I'll be with you in spirit," he assured her, that smile lightening up a bit.

"Hmph, such a foolish thing to say," she remarked, her eyes half-lidded and her head inclined. "But I suppose I will have to accept it for now."

"Indeed." Miles sat back in his seat, waiting for her to prepare and exit the car. "Will you be returning to the office after the trial?"

Franziska shook her head. "Nein. I will be looking over case files, and I would prefer to do so in the comfort of my own home."

"Very well. I'll see you when I get home then. Good luck, Franziska."

"You know I don't need luck..." she said, smirking at him before leaning over to return his kiss from earlier. She then pulled the door handle, preparing to leave the vehicle. "Goodbye, Miles."

He just gave her a small smile and a wave and then watched her step out of the car and close the door behind her. He put the vehicle in drive, but idled until she vanished from his sight, into the courthouse. With that, he drove away, heading toward the district prosecution offices.

oooooooooooooooo

"Yes, Sir, the autopsy was performed yesterday evening."

"Very good. May I see the report?"

"Of course, Mr. Edgeworth... Ah! I believe it was given to Detective Gumshoe. He insisted on giving it to you personally, Sir."

Miles frowned, knowing exactly why the bumbling detective had done so, always trying to win his favor at every turn... and normally failing. "Thank you, Officer," he said with a curt nod, his face impassive as he walked past the other man with his arms folded across his chest. He made his way down the vacant hallway of the precinct, certain that he would find the detective in his office as per usual in the noon hour. He would probably be stuffing his face with some type of cheap excuse for food brought from home...

He gave a couple of knocks for the sake of politeness, and then simply pushed the door open to see the detective sitting at his desk, staring intently and wide-eyed at his computer screen. Miles quirked an eyebrow and took the couple of steps forward that would take him up to the desk to stand right in front of Gumshoe. "...What are you doing, Detective?"

He might have dumped a bucket of ice water on the bearish detective for the overly-dramatic startled reaction he had to being addressed. "O-oh! M-mr. Edgeworth! W-what a surprise...!"

The prosecutor frowned. "...Why so jumpy, Detective...?" He then grew curious and side-stepped, attempting to get a look at what was on Gumshoe's computer screen. He only got a brief glimpse of something that didn't look nearly work-appropriate before the window was hastily closed.

"Just... erm... checking up on the current news, Sir!" Gumshoe exclaimed, fidgeting slightly. "I am a detective after all! We police gotta' know what's going on in the world!"

Miles gave him a cold look. "...Thanks to your panicked efforts to hide from me what you were viewing, I didn't get a good look, but it certainly didn't appear to be anything the family-friendly press would ever be allowed to post on their website or otherwise..."

The larger man averted his gaze. "Erm... You probably imagined it. Why would I be doing anything weird like that, especially at work?"

Miles sighed and shook his head. "...In any case, I need Mr. Herald's autopsy report."

"Uh... sure..." Gumshoe didn't once meet his eye as he reached into his desk and handed over the report. He didn't look proud to be doing so, excited to be assisting the prosecutor as he normally did. Inwardly, Miles found himself wondering about this, but he shrugged it off.

"Thank you, Detective. Now... I suggest you get to work and save any unrelated Web surfing for your own time." With that, he turned and left the room, the file he'd just received on his left arm. He had work to do; he didn't have time to dwell on that detective's abnormally-strange behavior.

But Dick Gumshoe wasn't the only person that seemed to be acting abnormally today.

"...Prosecutor Skye speaking..."

"Prosecutor Skye, I apologize for bothering you, but I need to know if you have received a call back from-"

"No, Edgeworth, I haven't. Look, I'm quite busy at the moment, so -"

"Ms. Skye, this is important. I need permission to investigate at Mr. Herald's place of employment; my investigation can go nowhere without - "

"Don't make me repeat myself, Edgeworth! Figure something out; I haven't gotten a call and I don't know what to tell you!"

"Now just a minute here!" Miles wasn't able to finish his indignant response, for the line went dead. She'd hung up on him! Unbelievable! First, Detective Gumshoe's odd jumpiness, then all the officers seeming to avoid him or give him strange looks, and now the Chief Prosecutor was being extremely cross and unwilling to even speak to him about the investigation of a high-profile case such as this one! What was wrong with everyone? Had something happened that he wasn't aware of...? Did he have something on his face? Miles took a brief detour into the men's room to ensure that his appearance wasn't causing some sort of disturbance, and upon discovering he was just as perfectly pristine as he'd been upon leaving the house that morning, he was once more at a loss.

He lingered for a moment as he looked at his own reflection. Each morning, he stood before his bathroom mirror to shave, brush his teeth, and get his hair and suit in order, but there were times when none of those things were his mission, where he was simply... gazing at the man in the mirror.

This was the one thing in his life that he didn't think could ever be fixed, could ever be what he hoped it would be. On the surface, he was a handsome, strong, cool and collected, professional man. He had no blemishes upon his skin, save for the occasional signs of stress from over-working himself, and his dark gray eyes were sharp as could be, able to give a death glare that could make the toughest of criminals shrink back under its weight.

But beneath it all lay a truth Miles never wanted to uncover. He had buried it deep inside, so deep that no one else could get even a glimpse. Hell, even he could live day-to-day without noticing its presence, but it was times like this that the nausea bothered him, that he couldn't bear to look at his own face in the mirror any longer, that the lights in his eyes faded if only for a fraction of a second before he closed them and turned away.

No... That boy was dead, and good riddance... He had died three years ago and would not be missed or remembered... by anyone but himself, anyway...

Miles shook his head to clear it, and then held it high, regaining his usual composure as he walked out of the men's restroom, a new determination to get through the day lit within him. Who cared if everyone else was having a bad day; there was no reason for him to fall into this as well. He simply had to figure out what was going on, deal with it however he had to, and get his job done so that he could return home to Franziska that night with nothing left to worry about until the next day began...

...That was... if whatever was going around hadn't reached her as well...

ooooooooooooooooo

"Honey, I'm home!" He closed the door behind him and began to take off his shoes and jacket, just waiting for a snappy and irritated come-back from somewhere in the house, scolding him for such a ridiculous pet-name. However, when he got no response whatsoever, Miles was a bit confused. After his accessories were removed, Miles began to walk further into the house, toward the living room where he could hear the television playing at a low volume. "Franziska...? Are you home...?"

The sound of the television was suddenly silenced, and when he turned into the living room, he nearly bumped into his lover, who jumped back a bit. "Ach! Miles, hello!" she exclaimed, recovering and throwing her arms around him in a greeting hug. He wrapped his arms around her waist to complete the embrace and pressed a kiss to her cheek, but his gaze was on the now inactive TV.

"Hello, Franziska... What... were you watching...?"

She looked up at him, her eyes wide and would-be-innocent. "...Nothing special," she replied. "...Why?" She looked... nervous...

Miles paused, and then removed himself from the embrace to walk past her and pick up the remote control. She stood there silently, nibbling slightly on one of her nails as he turned the device back on to reveal that she had been watching the news. The story that was currently playing was something about a new health study.

"See," she said quickly, like a child trying to prove they had won an argument. "Nothing special, just like I-"

Miles hit the button on the remote to rewind the satellite feed. He didn't say a word, just waited until he saw the news station's logo appear. He pushed yet another button to set the program forward at its normal speed, and then set the remote back on the coffee table and took a seat on the couch.

This had to be it... He just had a gut feeling about it... Of course, that gut feeling felt a lot like anxiety...

"Welcome back, and good evening to our viewers just tuning in after beating the rush-hour traffic. You've made it just in time for our top story tonight."

"Now, this story has been developing throughout the day, but if you haven't been following the scandal surrounding LA Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth, here's basically what we're looking at."

"This morning around seven-thirty, the Chief of Police received an e-mail from an anonymous sender claiming to have found some important information to hand over to the police. The e-mail came complete with a link to a public video, posted on an 'adult entertainment' website. Now, we are unable to show the video because it is extremely obscene, but from what we gathered, it's not flattering."

"In the thirty-minute-long video, Mr. Edgeworth appears to be in his late teens and is shown performing explicit sexual acts with another man, whose face is not able to be seen and whose voice is not heard throughout the video. The individual filming is not seen either, and though they speak, the voice is masked and unidentifiable."

"Now, according to those who didn't seem to mind watching and reporting on this film the entire way through, it appears that the events in question were not done with full consent from who we are now 100% certain is Miles Edgeworth. However, it's obvious that this is not at all how anyone in Los Angeles wants to view one of its most renown attorneys. There is no word yet on how Mr. Edgeworth has reacted to the release of this tape, but we did manage to get a statement from the city's Chief Prosecutor, Lana Skye."

"You want my opinion on this? Quite frankly, it's an outrage! I cannot believe that someone would not only sink so low as to film something like this, but to release it in a blatant attempt to sabotage one of this countries greatest prosecutors while labeling it as important evidence is even more disgusting. I stand by Mr. Edgeworth on this, and I am appalled at the associated press for aiding such a sick-minded individual. I will be doing everything in my power to destroy this atrocity, and I encourage anyone who wishes to uphold the image of our judicial system to do the same."

"Some harsh words from Prosecutor Skye, but can she really blame us...?"

It was at about this point when Miles stopped listening to the report and was left staring blankly at the screen, his face nearly as white as the lace around his neck. His eyes seemed to roll back in his head, and he barely even heard the soft voice of the woman still standing near the entrance to the living room.

"...Miles... What... is this...? Tell me it's a mistake..."

It felt like the walls around him were crumbling, letting all of the darkness they had been protecting him from flood in and surround him, consume him. His breathing began to get heavier and faster as it all closed in around him, and he felt like he was drowning. He swallowed hard, trying to keep the sickness in, but he could feel that nausea, and it was rising like magma in an erupting volcano. He stood up, the room spinning around him as he began to move toward the stairs, his speed steadily increasing as he went until he was running up the stairs toward the master bedroom.

"Miles!" Franziska gave chase, quite pale herself as she tried to catch up with him, stop him, get him to answer her. However, she couldn't manage this, and the bathroom door was slammed in her face just as she reached it. She stood there with her palm against the thick wood, listening with deep fear and concern as Miles coughed and gagged, the obvious sounds of one vomiting up every morsel of food they had not yet fully digested. Part of her wanted to go in there, hold his bangs back for him, cradle him in her arms and make sure that he was all right...

...but instead, she removed her hand from the door and turned away. She just... didn't know what to think about this, and thanks to his reaction... she knew this wasn't falsified...

...but what was it...? Slowly, Franziska made her way over to the desk in their room where the laptop she normally used to aid her in working from home sat idly. She picked the machine up and carried it from the room, downstairs to the living room and sat down on the couch. No... she didn't want to watch her lover's humiliation... but she needed to know, because she already knew that this wasn't going to just go away as Lana Skye wanted it to...

oooooooooooooooooo

Miles leaned up against the bathroom counter, gripping the edge of it and staring into the sink. The water was running, but at the moment, it server no purpose. He was just staring... but not really seeing.

What he was seeing were memories... horrible visions of the past he'd buried and left far behind him. Now... it had been unearthed, and it had chased him down, seized him and was now dragging him down... down... back to where he never wanted to return...

That heavy breathing... it created a sob, and he closed his eyes, hunching down and burying his face in his folded arms, uncaring that the water spilling from the faucet was soaking the forearm of his suit.

This couldn't be happening... It was a horrible nightmare... and he would wake up soon... He would be free again...

….He had to be...