Chapter 2

Little Sister

"It's your turn Miles," the teacher said and waved the boy up to the batter's box. Miles had done this before and he knew that he wasn't very good at it. He dragged his feet to the plate and accepted the bat from the pot bellied P.E. teacher.

It didn't help that Miles was already having a bad day. His lunch deposit for the month had been stolen and he didn't want the teacher to find out. So he'd been interviewing the other kids and they were all very rude about it.

"Move this foot back," the P.E. teacher said, kicking Miles' feet into place. He grabbed the bat and twisted it until he was happy with Miles' stance. Miles tried very hard to maintain his glare—he really wanted to cry. Why did they insist on trying to ridicule him?

"Gimme a practice swing," the teacher said. Miles swung the bat with his eyes closed.

"Not bad the teacher said, but you need to have your eyes on the ball when you swing, so don't close them," he said to Miles and the boy reset his stance.

"Alright Simon," the teacher said to the boy pitching and Simon threw the ball. Miles swung the bat and he felt the ball connect—sending something like a shock through the bat into his palms—and he felt relieved. Miles gaped as his ball soared over the infield and bounced into the grass behind the shortstop to where the girls were standing in the outfield gossiping.

"Run stupid!" Another boy yelled—maybe it was Simon—and Miles ran as fast as he could. He almost knocked down the girl on first base and she glared at him.

"Keep going! The kids in the dugout yelled and Miles brought up his fists and put his head down and ran. Even before he reached second the other kids yelled for him to go home.

"Miles! Go Home! Miles! Miles!" the kids were chanting.

He rounded third and picked up speed, sprinting so hard into home that he ran into the fence behind the catcher. Everyone cheered, even the kids on the other team. Suddenly, Miles was having a better day. Miles couldn't wait to tell his father.

"Well, Phoenix skipped P.E., didn't he?" Simon said and Phoenix glared back at him from where he stood in a corner of the classroom. "Obviously, he was up to something."

"I didn't take anything!" Phoenix said. Miles stared at the dark haired boy. Phoenix's face was flushed and angry, and his were arms crossed.

"Then why'd you skip class?" said a girl standing just behind Miles, outside of his peripheral vision. Miles frowned, he didn't expect this to happen.

"I told you, I was sick!" Phoenix said. He was very close to crying.

"What's going on here?" The teacher said when she entered the room. None of the children were in their seats and they gathered around Phoenix like a mob out for blood.

"I was investigating," Miles told her, "To find out who took my lunch money."

She smiled at him, "Oh?" she said, "what did you find?"

"Phoenix did it," one of the others said.

"Phoenix didn't do it," Miles said, "and I can prove it!"

"Come on, everyone go back to your seats," the teacher said, "we have to get on with our lesson."

"Miles keeps asking everyone who stole his lunch money, and we all think Phoenix did it," A mousy blonde girl spoke up from the front of the class.

"There's no evidence that Phoenix, did it," Miles said.

"I didn't take it," Phoenix hadn't moved from where he'd been standing in the back corner of the classroom. His voice cracked and faltered and he started to cry.

"Tell you what," the teacher said, "We can present this case in front of a judge next hour. Right now we have to finish talking about fractions."

"The judge'll find you guilty," Simon said to Phoenix.

Phoenix was trying very hard to stifle the sobs that just kept coming.

"It's not fair," Miles heard him say between sobs.

Well, Miles thought, I'll show them. I'll defend him in court and we'll find the real culprit. Just like my dad.

Miles Edgeworth awoke early, completed his morning ritual and crossed the dining room of the enormous flat to sit at the breakfast nook off of the kitchen near the window. Like always, Wellington had his tea and a paper waiting for him. Miles was quietly perusing the paper when Wellington brought out his tray—oatmeal today—and Miles stared at the bowl and its contents with a frown and turned a page of his newspaper.

"Did you sleep well, sir?" Wellington said.

"Very well, Wellington, thank you," Miles said without looking up from his paper.

Pess was at his knee wagging her tail. Miles peeked around his paper and gave the dog a meaningful look and pointed at Wellington. The butler was moving around the kitchen returning cups and saucers to their rightful places. Miles heard him strike up a conversation with the cook. He took his bowl and held it out for Pess.

Miles took a second cup of tea and carried his paper into the library. He was surprised to find a few stacks of mail on his desk. Mostly cards he'd missed at Christmas—having spent that day in jail. Miles took all the Christmas cards and put them to the side. There was only one actual letter in his pile of mail, from Franziska, and he frowned. He still hadn't called her—and the verdict had been out for nearly two full days.

Miles set his letter from Franziska back on the desk and grabbed up the newspaper again. The reason he'd come here was to take a clipping and set it with a new file. A habit he began while he was still in training. Something he remembered his father doing.

He flattened the paper in on the desk and read it once more. The count had risen to seven—seven murders—and the police were expecting more. The media was in an uproar. At least a case like this would be easy for the prosecution.

Miles cut out the article and put it in an unused manila folder. He dated the folder, Dec 30 2016, and labeled it 'Honeymoon'. He added it to a file in his desk. Miles locked the drawer and picked up Franziska's letter.

"Wellington," he called coming out of the library, "I'm going to take Pess out for a walk."

"It's early sir," Wellington said, "and you had her out last night."

Miles frowned. Pess had come up to him wagging her tail. She didn't look tired.

"We aren't going very far," Miles said, "and I don't often have the time to spend with her. I think I owe it to her, Wellington."

"Very good, sir," Wellington said, "Will you be home for luncheon?"

"I think so," Miles said, "We're only going for a short walk, and it's early yet."

Miles left the flat and tackled the stairwell with the big dog; ambling nine flights of stairs to the ground floor. Once on the street Pess walked beside him head down and tongue lolling.

"You've gotten lazy, girl," Miles said and Pess picked up her great head only for a moment before putting her nose back to the ground.

This early in the morning the crowds were sparse, those who did have to work were already at work, schools were still on break, and it was chilly enough to warrant hiding indoors. Pess barked once and Miles looked up to find they had reached an intersection.

When the light turned green, they crossed and Miles pulled the letter out of his pocket and opened it.

"Dear little brother," it read, and Miles rolled his eyes. She was seven years younger but insisted on calling him that.

"Merry Christmas, I trust you are well? Papa tells me you've lost your second case, and to the same lawyer too. All your genius and you've already met your match. My poor Brüderchen. Well, little brother, little dear, do not fear. I have decided to join my Papa in America after the New Year. I grow bored with Germany, and it's quite obvious that you need my help. I've written to Papa, I'm sure he's told you by now. Be sure you find me the best French Restaurant in town, for my first night. I will expect the best reception on my arrival. Yours, Franziska."

Miles frowned at the letter in his hand. Pess whimpered, and only then did Miles realize he'd stopped walking and was standing in the middle of the sidewalk. He folded the letter and shoved it back into his pocket. He pulled out his phone and dialed his adoptive sister, letting Pess pull him along.

The phone rang for what seemed an inordinate amount of time and then the German Vodafone voicemail service answered. Miles hung up and dialed again. The third time he called, she answered.

"Miles Edgeworth! Du ist ein Arschloch! Ich hasse dich!" she sounded like she'd been crying. "Oh, Papa!"

"Franziska—"

She launched into a tirade of angry German so loud and shrill he had to pull the phone away from his ear. When the screaming subsided he put the phone reluctantly back to his ear.

"Franziska, I'm sorry about—"

"How could you?" She sobbed over the phone, "How could you? After everything he's done for you! He took you in! He made sure you had the best training! The best schools! He made you what you are! You would've been nothing without him! He should've left you there! Let the State have you! You're vile! Ungrateful! Selfish betrayer!"

Miles was too shocked to reply. After a minute to let the words sink in he hung up on her. He'd expected her to be upset—he didn't think she would blame him. After all, the entire affair was her father's plan from the start. Miles had nothing to do with it aside from being framed for Hammond's murder. Manfred Von Karma was the one who'd underestimated Miles' counsel.

Still, it hurt.

His phone buzzed and vibrated in his pocket but he didn't answer. Couldn't answer. Miles bit the inside of his lip and urged Pess forward. Pess sat down on the sidewalk and stared up at him.

"Come on," Miles said, "We shouldn't linger here."

Pess barked at him and whimpered again. Miles' phone started to ring again. While he fumbled with it in his pocket, Pess bolted and half-dragged Miles into the nature park. When he managed to regain control of the big dog he stopped to glare at the bare trees around him. He'd accidentally hung up on the caller.

"Where've you brought me?" Miles said.

Pess barked, and Miles' shoulders slumped. The park was empty and he sat down on the nearest bench and rubbed his temples. This trouble was far from over. Pess put her paws on his lap and nudged him with her damp nose. Miles put a hand on her head and stroked her ears, frowning thoughtfully. He dug out his phone with the other hand and screened his recent calls.

Franziska, Franziska, Phoenix Wright. What might he want? Miles wondered, the trial was over, so was their partnership. They wouldn't meet again until the next case that brought them together. Miles stared at the phone in his hand and then dialed the number.

"Wright&Co. Law Offices, this is Maya Fey speaking," Maya's high, girlish voice answered.

"This is Edgeworth," Miles said. His recent spat with Franziska had left him curt—perhaps more so than he usually was.

"Oh, Mister Edgeworth," Maya said, "I was calling because we still hadn't settled—"

"Didn't we?" Miles said.

"Um, no," Maya said still cheerful in spite of his interruption, "So I was wondering if you could come by the office—"

"I can come now," Miles said, "I was walking my dog, so if you don't mind my having her with me, I can be over shortly."

"Oh, well," Maya seemed shy suddenly, "Well Nick has a client right now, and I don't know how long—"

"A client?" Miles was surprised, Phoenix seemed more inclined to take the rest of his holiday.

"Yes, Mister Edgeworth," Maya said, and she perked up again, "Plus I got him this awesome blotter for his desk—so he could be more professional—so if you would, I can make an appointment and he can write it in there."

"When would be a good time?" Miles almost grinned—Phoenix Wright? A professional?

"Uh how about—?" Maya stopped mid-sentence and he heard her lay the receiver on the desk.

"Miss Fey?" Miles was annoyed, but he waited. The line rattled when she came back on.

"You said you were nearby, Mr. Edgeworth?"

"Yes."

"Where are you?"

"I'm near the entrance to the Nature Park at Gourd Lake."

"I'll come meet you in five minutes."

"I don't think—" Miles was shocked when she hung up on him. He looked a Pess, she gave him a doggy smile, tongue lolling.

"I suppose we should wait for the girl," Miles said and Pess barked at him.

Maya took longer than the five minutes she'd promised and he scolded her for it. Maya was already frowning before he spoke. Miles almost felt guilty.

"Now," Miles said, "I don't walk around with my pockets full of cash, so, you will accept a check?"

Maya looked as if she'd cry and she sat on the bench beside him. Miles didn't know what to do, so he crossed his arms and glared at the trees.

"If a check won't do—"

"He kicked me out of the office," Maya said.

Miles frowned.

"Those men came in and they went in the back and then he yelled at me to leave," Maya said.

"Why didn't you say anything over the phone?" Miles said.

"I don't know what happened," Maya said.

"Let's go," Miles said, "That doesn't sound right, Wright may be in danger."

"Oh Mister Edgeworth!" Maya said, "I knew you'd—you're a hero!"

Miles stood and choosing to ignore her comment, made for the park entrance with Pess at his heel.

"Eh?" Maya said surprised, "I-is that your dog?"

"Obviously I'm holding the leash," Miles called back without stopping.

"He looks like a lion!"

"She," Miles corrected, "Come along, let's see what trouble Wright's gotten into this time."

"Mister Edgeworth?" Maya said, "Should we call the police?"

Miles deliberated, what if he should? But then, what if it was nothing?

"We'll wait and see," Miles said, "Come along, we mustn't take too long in getting there."

"Who would want to hurt, Nick?" Maya said.

"Now, we don't know if anyone is hurting him," Miles said, "Do we?"

"I feel so stupid!" Maya said puffing out her cheeks and clenching her fists, "I thought he was just trying to get rid of me because…"

Miles frowned, he didn't want to get caught in whatever argument Wright might be having with his assistant—or whatever.

"I'm sure it's nothing," he said dismissively.

"I hope you're right," Maya said.

He threw the girl a sidelong glance. She was walking with her head down near Pess' tail. Like she didn't want to be beside him. Not that it bothered him in the least.

"Order," the teacher said and banged her desk with one of the markers from the board, "Order in the court! That means listen up guys. We are here for the trial of Mister Phoenix Wright!"

She looked at them with a small smile; Miles thought perhaps she wasn't taking this as seriously as she ought to have been.

"Mister Edgeworth will be defending Mister Wright," the teacher said, "Who wants to prosecute the case?"

The students all looked at her blankly—except for Miles who understood what she was asking—he stared at the others daring them to come forward.

The mousey blonde girl raised her hand, "What does that mean? Persecute?"

"That means you are accusing him unfairly," Miles shot out, "Simply because you dislike him and not because he is actually guilty of any crime."

The teacher chuckled, "Yes, Miles. But I think Jilly wants to know what a Prosecutor is. The prosecutor is the one who presents the case for the state or government. So you have to explain the facts of the crime to the court."

Simon and Jilly both raised their hands again, "Yes, Jilly?" The teacher said.

"I'll do it! I can tell you what happened!"

Simon made a noise and muttered, "But I wanted to do it!"

The teacher grinned, "Why don't both of you work together, then?"

Miles crossed his arms and raised his chin. They had no ground to stand on. The class split into two sides. The group that believed Phoenix was guilty, which was most of the class, and the group that thought Phoenix was innocent—which included Miles and Phoenix. There was another boy, whose name Miles didn't know and the fat kid Stanley who probably just didn't want to move seats. Miles frowned.

Phoenix looked at him," I swear I didn't take your money, Miles," he said.

Miles frowned at him. Phoenix looked like he'd start crying at any moment.

"Okay," the Teacher said smiling, "Simon? Jilly? Who wants to begin?"

Jilly raised her hand timidly, "I'll go."

She skipped to the front of the class tossing her blonde hair. Miles' brow set with determination. Phoenix stared in dismay.

"This morning, Miles Edgeworth had his money stolen from him that he was supposed to give to Missus Preston so he can eat in the cafeteria. Miles didn't tell any of the teachers because he's weird but he went—"

"OBJECTION!" Miles yelled and jabbed his index finger in her direction. Jilly stared back at him in shocked silence. The teacher clapped a little at the excitement.

"I'm not on trial here, Your Honor," Miles said looking at the teacher, "There's no need for the prosecution to defame my character!"

Several of the other kids looked around in confusion. The skinny kid sitting behind Phoenix started to snore. The teacher beamed at Miles.

"Oh, good one! Jilly, you can't say nasty things about Miles. The state should be presenting the case in the most direct manner possible," the teacher clapped again and added in a sing-song voice, "Objection sustained!"

Simon looked at Jilly and she frowned in reply. Simon joined her at the front of the class.

"We think Phoenix Wright stole Miles' lunch money," Simon said, "Because Miles lost it before P.E. and Phoenix skipped P.E., probably so he could go hide it somewhere."

"Your Honor," Miles said, "The prosecution is making a bold speculation about my client. Obviously if they intend that statement to stand, they must present corroborating evidence."

"Corrob… What?" Simon said.

"Objection!" Jilly yelled and pointed at Miles.

"What?" Miles said, "On what grounds?"

"On school grounds, idiot!" Simon said.

"Oh my," the teacher said, "This is a trial. You can't just go calling the Defense Attorney names! Objection overruled! Miles is right, honey, you have to present evidence if you're going to make speculative accusations like that."

Jilly stared at the class dumbstruck. Simon was frowning too.

"Jilly," the teacher said, "Why don't you call your first witness?"

Jilly stared at the other kids with a sort of lost look on her face.

Miles shook his head and bided his time.

"I'll be the first witness," Simon said raising his hand excitedly even though he was standing right next to the teacher.

"The prosecutor is calling himself as the first witness!" Miles said, "I'm sorry, but I'll have to object, what kind of kangaroo court are you running here?"

"Nick!" Maya shouted when they entered the small office. Wright met them at the entrance, he was unhurt but he seemed a little irritated. Then he looked at Miles and his large brown eyes widened.

"What?" Miles said, glaring again.

"What are you doing here?" Wright said and then he saw Pess and almost fell against the desk, "What is that?"

"Maya was worried abut you," Miles said, "I was nearby, so I came."

"Thanks for the consideration," Wright replied with forced buoyancy, "But I don't need anything."

"I can settle my account while I'm here," Miles said. He moved toward the counter and pulled out his checkbook.

"If you want," Wright said.

Miles gave him a tight-lipped smile, "Tell me you don't need the money, Wright."

Wright lifted his chin and crossed his arms, "We get by."

Maya was watching their exchange with her eyes wide and mouth agape, "Why are you two so prickly? Everyone was friendly two days ago."

Wright glanced at her quickly before turning his glare back to Miles, "He's prickly, not me."

Miles was much better at glaring and he paused to stare Wright down before handing the check to him. Wright took it and put it into his shirt pocket without looking at the amount. "Maya said you had a client."

"I'm not taking any new clients," Wright said, "eh, Maya, can you get coffee?"

"But Nick—"

"Please Maya," Wright said and when she left the room, he relaxed his stare. It didn't suit him anyway, Miles thought.

"Edgeworth," Wright started, "I'm sorry about the other night."

Miles raised an eyebrow, "What do you mean?"

"You left, angry," Phoenix frowned, "So whatever I… I wasn't trying to offend—"

"I didn't think you were," Miles said, effectively stopping the other man from going there again.

"You'll stay for coffee?" Wright asked.

"No," Miles said, "I'm going back home. I didn't mean to come this far out."

"Why'd you come out here then?" Wright asked.

Miles eyed his childhood friend and rival. The other man smiled sheepishly at him.

"Maya…" Miles began, "Never mind then. At least I settled my account."

"Yeah," Wright said, "Thanks."

"Thank you for your counsel," Miles said stiffly.

"Are you sure you don't want coffee?" Wright said.

"Yeah," Miles said, "I really should go."

"You're not working today…?" Wright was eying him curiously; he'd obviously just noticed that Miles wasn't dressed as per his usual.

"No…" Miles said and debated with himself before adding, "But I have some… personal errands to attend to."

"Like what?" Wright said.

Miles stared at him and his brows knit. Wright gave him a lop-sided grin.

"Just… Just take care of yourself, Edgeworth."

"You too," Miles said, but before he could turn to face the door, Wright put a hand on his shoulder. Miles glared at him—he didn't like to be touched.

Wright pulled his hand away and offered it instead as a handshake. Miles hesitated before clasping his hand.

"See you in court," Miles said. Phoenix Wright only smiled.

A/N: Thanks for reading!

22SEP2013

Yes! Cleaned and updated. This one had some major revision—mostly because the chapter was incongruously short… Plus, I'd intended to reproduce the grade school trial itself, but I was never sure where to begin.

4JULY2015

Double checked and cleaned for minor errors. For anyone new to this story, that Simon in their class is not Simon Blackquill (he'd be to old anyway-lol)