Chapter 3

Cougars

Miles sat alone in the cafeteria and stared at his tray. He'd done it. He'd proven the Phoenix boy's innocence. He was a great Defense Attorney—just like his father. But, somehow, everything in the school had gone back to the way it was before. No one seemed to understand the significance of what'd happened in the class trial yesterday. This morning was just like every other morning he'd spent in the school. Boring and sort of lonely. No one talked to him—except Simon. He only wanted to call Miles names. Miles did not engage in that sort of activity.

Good boys didn't do such things. He certainly did not feel threatened by Simon.

Miles picked up his fork and poked it into something brown and squashy oozing into something white and squashy.

Dad had given him a second lunch deposit and told Miles not to worry about it. Miles thought he knew who the culprit was, but he left it alone.

"Hey," it was the Phoenix boy, "Is anyone sitting here?"

"No," Miles said, a little surprised. No one ever sat next to him in the cafeteria.

"Are you going to eat that?" Another boy, Larry, asked. Larry sat next to Phoenix. Miles looked from one to the other, but he said nothing. He continued to push the squashy things around the tray. He speared a floret of broccoli.

Miles wasn't overly fond of broccoli, but at least he could tell what it was. Larry took the edge of his tray and turned it to get his attention.

"Are you going to eat that?" he asked again.

"No," Miles said, "I don't even know what it is."

Phoenix laughed, "It's Salisbury steak. It's good."

Miles never got a chance to confirm Phoenix's claim, as Larry had wolfed it down without additional warning.

"Simon said you got a home run at P.E. yesterday," Phoenix said.

Miles shrugged, "I got lucky."

Phoenix grinned at him, "I'll bet you're a baseball star at your old school."

Miles blushed a little, "No."

"What school did you go to before you came here?"

"I went to East Wood," Miles said.

"Never heard of it," Larry said.

"How do you like it here?" Phoenix asked.

"It's okay," Miles said.

"So," Phoenix said, "Larry and I are going to start a biker gang. Do you have your own bicycle?"

"Yes," Miles said.

"So do you want to join our gang?"

Miles looked at Phoenix and then Larry. He frowned a little and said, "My dad says I shouldn't be in a gang."

"It's not a gang like that," Larry said. He was poorly dressed and thin and scrappy. Miles decided Larry must know a lot about gangs.

"Think of it as more of a club," Phoenix said.

"Okay," Miles said.

Miles Edgeworth set a modest incline and a brisk pace on the treadmill. The gym in the building had all the treadmills along a mirrored wall. Miles frowned at his reflection for a moment before spreading his newspaper on the console.

"Oh Miles! Miles darling!"

Miles lifted his head and glared at her reflection in the mirror. It was 6B again. 6B liked to follow him around and talk about stupid things.

"Good morning," Miles said without any of the usual cheer that went along with such a greeting, still glaring at his newspaper.

6B was hovering behind his machine shooting coy glances at his reflection in the mirror. Miles cranked up the speed on the treadmill until the stomp of his feet and the whir of the machine drowned out her voice, effectively eliminating all risk of conversation.

He rolled up his newspaper and held it in his hand too prevent it from falling under his feet and tripping him. 6B's reflection waved at him a few times and she shouted something. Miles motioned to her in the mirror that he couldn't hear, and went on running—he was determined to keep running until she disappeared. Miles had half a mind jump off the treadmill and run outside where she couldn't catch him.

But it was raining this morning. 6B was very determined today—more than usual. She got on the machine next to him and started power walking next to him, swinging her arms. She was still trying to get his attention. Miles cursed himself for not bringing music and headphones. He raised the speed and the whir of the machine grew louder.

6B got off of the treadmill next to him and he surreptitiously watched as she went to the back corner of the small fitness center and whipped out her cell phone. When she was done on the phone she just stood there gazing dreamily in his direction. Miles turned his gaze to the console of the machine noting his speed and distance. Perfection could be a damned pain in the ass sometimes.

A movement caught his eye—6B was waving at 3C and 3D who'd just arrived. 5A showed up not very much later. Miles took a drink from his water bottle and grimaced at his reflection sweating in the mirror. Somehow the ladies club had moved into the circuit training area immediately behind him.

Miles had only planned to warm up on the machine, but now it seemed he was surrounded. The treadmill was the only safe place for him in the fitness center. 3D and 5A were tugging half-heartedly at an elastic strap mounted on the wall. Miles was starting to find the gathering mildly offensive. Obviously they were planning some mischief.

Miles startled and almost tripped when someone grabbed his arm. It was only Wellington. Miles planted his feet to either side of the belt and looked at the man.

"Mr. Edgeworth," Wellington said, "You have a phone call from the Office of the Chief Prosecutor."

Miles was still breathing hard, "Did you bring it here?"

"Sir?" Wellington replied.

"The phone?"

"She called the house phone, sir," Wellington said.

Miles dragged a hand over his forehead in exasperation, "You'll need to keep them away from me."

"Sir?" Wellington said looking around the gym and only just noticing the ladies. Miles bolted from the safety of the treadmill and ran pell-mell toward the stairs.

"Good morning, Ladies," Miles heard Wellington say before the door to the stairwell closed itself.

He stopped on the third floor landing to catch his breath and then gazed discouraged at the next six flights rising up higher. Miles frowned and climbed the stairs at a steadier pace.

"Why didn't you just take the elevator?" Lana said on the phone.

Miles made a face, "You know why I don't take the elevator."

"How is your leave, Edgeworth?"

"Fine," he said still brusque.

The Chief Prosecutor laughed, "I'm sure you don't know what to do with yourself."

"What can I do for you, Chief?" Miles said.

"Our department's having a meeting at one-thirty, I'm sorry to do this, but it concerns you, and you ought to be present."

"One-thirty?" Miles confirmed as he jotted it on a notepad near the phone.

"Yes, but I'd like you to come in at noon, if you can," Lana said.

"I can," Miles said.

"Just come to my office around noon," Lana said, "We'll do lunch."

"Nice, I'll see you at noon, Chief," Miles hung up the phone and went back to his room to shower.

It was a long drive into the city to the cemetery, even on the freeway. Dad didn't talk much and Miles didn't feel the need to bother him. He was holding the flowers so they didn't roll around in the car and get ruined.

"Your teachers say you are doing well in school," Dad said, suddenly breaking the silence as he navigated the car off of the freeway.

Miles shrugged and watched the city that slid into view as they left the ramp.

"She told me about your trial," Dad smiled but he didn't look at Miles.

"I knew Phoenix didn't do it," Miles said, "So I couldn't let him get in trouble. It wouldn't be right."

"Right," Dad said, "Is Phoenix the boy who came over yesterday?"

"Yeah," Miles said, "He has his own biker club, and he said I could join too."

"Oh?"

"If that's okay with you, Dad," Miles said, "I don't want you to be at home all alone."

Dad chuckled and said, "I'm glad you're making friends at school, Miles."

Miles shifted in his seat and fumbled with the rattling plastic from the flowers, "Yeah, I guess."

His father parked the car near the manicured entrance to the cemetery. The wall was made of stone with wrought iron worked at the top and a gate of the same intricately formed iron painted black. His father took the flowers from him when they got out of the car and started to walk up the tidy dirt path that led through the sections of graves.

It was sunny and the trees that lined the path cast gay shadows along their way so that the sunlight flashed as they moved under the trees. Miles looked up at his father, the man solemn and withdrawn. Miles guiltily thought it would be nice to go out biking as the weather was clear but not very hot.

His father put a big hand on his shoulder as they turned off of the main path and wound past the graves of other people. Some of them had candles or teddy bears or flags or flowers. Some of them looked as if they'd never been visited. The flowers on his mother's grave had wilted, but not to the point they'd become black or desiccated. They tried to come every week to bring her new ones but they had been too busy last week.

Miles took the wilted flowers from her vase and his father replaced them with the new ones. Miles took the plastic and wrapped up the old flowers while his father knelt, head down and whispered to the cold headstone. Miles only frowned.

A bird in the tree chirped and caught his eye, and Miles watched it hop around in the tree until his father stood back up and took him by the shoulder again. Miles cradled the dead flowers in his arms.

"Dad," Miles said, "I'm sorry."

"For what?" Dad said.

Miles frowned up at his father, "I just—I don't feel sad anymore."

His father squeezed his shoulder and they continued to the main path, pausing to deposit the dead flowers in the proper receptacle before returning to the car.

Miles dressed carefully. Wondering what sort of meeting his boss had in store. Certainly, the district had been in an uproar over his arrest and then his subsequent acquittal and Von Karma's confession on the stand.

He stopped by the library to collect his briefcase and was stopped at the door by Wellington.

"Going to work, sir?"

"Yes, of course," Miles said handing the man his briefcase so that he could slide into his coat.

"I thought you'd be on holiday until after the New Year," Wellington said.

"Well, it's just for a meeting," Miles said and he took his briefcase and exited the flat.

"I hope all goes well, sir," Wellington said, eyeing him curiously.

"I'm sure it's nothing, Mister Wellington," Miles said.

"Will you be returning for luncheon?" Mister Wellington asked.

"I'll have lunch while I'm out," Miles said, "You can tell Misses Kucharka to stop fretting about it."

Wellington only chuckled as he closed the door behind him.

Miles pulled into the parking garage twenty minutes to noon; he still had twelve flights of stairs to climb. He put the parking stub between his teeth while he put his coat back on and grabbed his briefcase. The Lunchland lady glared at him from across the garage. Miles only spared her a glance as he opened the door to the stairwell.

Chief Skye was alone in her office when he entered. She waved at him to sit in front of her desk.

"You look well, Edgeworth," the Chief Prosecutor said.

"I am," Miles said, "What did you need? I hope everything is in order?"

"For the most part," Chief Skye said.

Miles cupped his hands over his knees and stared at her, not sure if he should be the one to initiate this conversation. She's the one that called him, after all.

"People have been talking. Since your acquittal," she said and paused—probably to gauge his reaction. Miles stared at her impassively.

"I thought you should be warned," she said.

Miles shrugged, "Let them say what they will. I only care about the truth."

"The truth, Edgeworth?" She said and she leaned forward and swept her red muffler over her shoulder. "Is it really so simple as that?"

Miles leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, his eyes narrowed scrupulously, "Chief Prosecutor Skye, are you accusing me of something?"

She smiled at him, "Edgeworth, you put Von Karma in jail. Are you planning to tear this whole department apart?"

"Phoenix Wright put Von Karma in prison," Miles said, "It's a wonder you don't ask him to join the Prosecutor's Office."

"That may have to be arranged," Chief Skye said. Miles met her eyes and frowned. What was her purpose here?

"I wonder if he'd appreciate the change of pace…" Miles said casually.

"Well, he'll have to apply through the county like everyone else," she said dismissively, "But you, Miles Edgeworth, I want to hear your opinion on Mister Von Karma."

Miles frowned at her. How did he feel? The man certainly had his respect. He was ruthless and uncompromising, but certainly a good prosecutor. Even though he…

No. Miles had avoided the subject for personal reasons.

He sighed solemnly and looked at Chief Skye. She stared back with bright hazel eyes. She was young for the position—only a few years older than him.

"He was a good prosecutor," Miles said simply.

"I think a lot of people might beg to differ," Chief Skye said.

Miles hesitated and then said, "He was not without his faults. But to say he was entirely without skill or merit is perhaps rather unfair."

Chief Skye pursed her lips, "He was convicted yesterday."

Miles raised an eyebrow; they'd wasted no time in taking the old man to court. But then, that was the way of it these days.

"Oh," Miles said, "I hadn't heard, yet."

"It's not important," Chief Skye said, "He's a non-entity in the matter at hand. You, however, you are a prominent figure in this."

Miles frowned at her. He was never fond of these kinds of conversations—full of hints and rumors and nothing of substance. He sighed abruptly and straightened in his seat.

"Well, Chief," he said, "I promise you these events of late will have no bearing on my performance. We have a duty to move forward and continue to uphold the law."

Chief Skye smiled at him like he'd just told her he still believed in Santa Claus.

"There were a lot of things that Manfred Von Karma admitted to openly during the trial. Things that had been speculated on before. There are many that believe you inextricably tied to Von Karma. That you were loyal to him—if you will—"

"He killed my father!" Miles was shocked to hear the words issue so forcefully from his own mouth. The look on Chief's face seemed to mirror his shock.

"Mister Edgeworth," she began cautiously. He put up a hand.

"I'm sorry," he interrupted, "I certainly do not mean to imply that my personal feelings have any—"

"Miles…" Chief said rescuing him from a very awkward admission of his own pain and guilt. This was certainly not the forum for such nonsense.

"Miles, I've never been one for forming such alliances," she said and her tone wavered slightly, "Nor do I subscribe very readily to the gossip that is bantered about idly in a department full of ambition and intrigue—like this one… But I need to be sure where your loyalties lie. You understand, don't you?"

Miles was at a loss. He stared at her and had to remind himself that letting his mouth hang open was a very crass behavior indeed.

"I'm sure I don't—I have no idea what you're trying to imply, Chief."

"We've taken care of you," she said, "We've been very good to you, and you've always been someone we—meaning Gant and myself—could count on. I don't want you going wild because Von Karma is gone. You're still young, Edgeworth—Miles… You can go further than your mentor ever went. As long as you stay true—"

"I intend to stay true to the law, Chief Skye," he said in all seriousness.

She smiled tight-lipped, "Of course, Mister Edgeworth. I didn't mean to imply otherwise."

He looked at the floor and wringed his hands, "Are you asking me if I might overlook certain… Inconsistencies… in procedure to ensure the department continues to operate to the standard at which we've been accustomed to?"

Chief smiled at him again, albeit with a measure of discontent darting in the shadows in her eyes, "You were always too smart for your own good."

Miles glowered at her. He found that rather condescending.

"Personally," she said, "And I'm sure I'm not the only one that feels this way—but I found Mister Von Karma difficult to work with."

"He was proficient and well experienced," Miles said, "I couldn't have asked for a better mentor. Whatever his shortcomings, they were not related to his vast expertise in this field."

"Hmm," Chief Skye smiled again, "I hope also that recent events are not weighing too heavily on you?"

"I'm fine," Miles said, "I'm not in prison at any rate, so I have no reason to be disturbed by any of it."

He was startled suddenly by the look of sympathy that crossed her face. Did she feel sorry for him?

"Miles," she said suddenly peering into her lap. She seemed vulnerable then and nervous. He raised his eyebrows inquiringly, but she only shook her head.

"Not everything is as it seems," she said cryptically, "I trust you would hold to your conviction—no matter what might happen."

He blinked. Just what did she mean by that?

Finally, he nodded. She smiled at him again.

"I'm glad," she said.

Miles swallowed. She glanced at her watch.

"I owe you lunch," she said.

"It's quite all right," he said. Suddenly unsure whether he wanted to spend any more time alone with her.

"No, I insist," she said, "You shouldn't have had to come in today, after all."

Miles shrugged.

"After the meeting, then?"

He nodded.

"Right, Chief," Miles said very formally and he stood taking his briefcase in one hand and his coat in the other.

"Where're you going?" Lana gave him a strange look and for a moment he thought she panicked.

"You said we had a meeting at one-thirty?" Miles said and he glanced at his watch, "I'll be in my office."

"Edgeworth!" She stood and glared at him—at least that was something.

Miles was already at the door but he paused and turned to look at her.

"I thought we were finished?"

She looked at him. Obviously in the process of some kind of deliberation.

"You'll take care, won't you?" She said finally.

"Always," he murmured and let himself out.

He went down the corridor to 1203. He dropped his briefcase and coat onto the sofa and went back to lock the door. Miles loosened his cravat and pulled off his suit jacket piling it on top of the briefcase and coat. What was going on there?

A/N: Thanks for reading!

22SEP2013 Major overhaul. Miles was very emotional in some of these early chapters with no real reason or reference. So I toned it down a bit.

4JUL2015-Edited for minor grammatical errors.