Chapter 9

Travesty and Terror

Miles was still frowning after the trial. Dad was withdrawn, and even his grip on Miles' hand seemed tentative and fragile, and Miles struggled to maintain that grip as if he would lose his father forever if he let go.

The courtroom was bedlam after the verdict was called and the judge slammed his gavel, cementing the decision forever. The crowd frightened Miles as they surged forward to talk to the lawyers and make their comments for the hungry television audience awaiting the news. Dad was mixed up there in the crowd and Miles was still alone in the frantic gallery behind the defense table while the sea of mad humanity filled the space between them.

Mr. Tenkai's poufy hair was visible above everyone and it bobbed in the crowd. Miles recognized his father's forehead and stood on his chair. The bailiff was already leading Mr. Tenkai away. That Prosecutor was following them. Before they exited the doors, the Prosecutor turned to gaze over the crowd. Miles could've sworn the man saw him standing on the chair lost and forsaken. Manfred von Karma had an evil smile.

Miles almost cried standing there calling for his Dad. Dad came finally and lifted him from where he stood and Miles put his arms around his neck. Dad just stood where he was, waiting for the crowd to thin. Miles pressed his face against his father's shoulder, he felt like no one could see him—like he was safe. Finally Miles lifted his head.

"Dad," he said, "What happened?"

Dad shook his head; his focus was on the rapidly emptying courtroom, "Injustice, Miles, injustice and a failure of the system."

Miles was shocked and a little confused, Dad didn't say things like that, Dad always believed in the law.

Dad didn't put Miles down until they entered the corridor. It was quiet and empty as they made their way toward the elevator. Miles held his father's hand in both of his. It seemed like Dad would fall away.

"Dad?" Miles said but his father kept walking.

There was already someone waiting for the elevator when they arrived. It was one of the court bailiffs.

"Evening Mister Edgeworth," the man said and offered Miles a friendly smile.

"Yanni," Dad said.

"Don't look so down, Sir," Yanni said, "Von Karma's never lost a trial in twenty-five years."

Dad glared at Yanni for several moments before turning to press the call button, even though it had already been activated.

"Doesn't mean he's always right," Dad said looking at the floor.

Yanni only frowned and the three of them stood in uncomfortable silence until the elevator announced its arrival with a ding. The doors slid open ominously and Dad tapped Miles on the shoulder to coax him inside.

"Lobby, sir?" Yanni said brightly.

"Yes, please," Dad replied.

"You fellas got any plans for the New Year?" Yanni said as the doors slid closed.

Miles' grip on his father's hand tightened as the car lurched into motion. He wasn't overly fond of elevators.

"Rest," Dad said and chuckled, "Miles wanted to go to the zoo. I think it's a fine time to go."

Miles relaxed and smiled up at his father.

"Polly wants to go to that concert," Yanni said, "The one on New Year's Eve, with all the movie stars and they count down the time until New Year."

"Ah," Dad said and he patted Miles on the head, "Fortunately I have a few years before I'll be asked to attend one of those."

Both men laughed. Then the lights went out and the car stopped with a lurch. Miles was thrown toward the back of the car. But the shaking didn't stop and the noise of scraping metal filled the car with ear-splitting whines and bangs. Something made a snap and hit the top of the car and it went into a freefall. It must have only lasted a second, but it seemed to fall forever. Miles stayed on the floor, pressed into a corner, hugging himself and quaking with fear.

Then suddenly it stopped. A few seconds passed and a dim red light lit the car. Miles opened his eyes and saw his father wiping his glasses with his tie. Yanni was pressed against the door hoping to pry it open.

"It… wont… budge…"

"Daddy!" Miles screamed.

"Miles, don't panic, come here," Dad sat on the floor and held out his arms to Miles. The boy was too frightened to stand and walk so he crawled to his father on all fours.

Yanni sat across from them frowning and scratching his head, "Must've been an earthquake."

"I think you're right," Dad said holding Miles close.

"How long do you think it will take before they find us?" Yanni said.

"I don't know," Dad said, "But they'll come soon enough—don't worry."

"I hope so—Polly'll be upset if I'm late."

"I'm sure she'll understand," Dad said.

Miles just glared at her as she pushed past him and entered his office.

"You slept here?" Chief Prosecutor Skye said.

"It would seem," Miles said. In fact her knocking was what woke him. He was still wearing his rumpled vest and the bloodied shirt. He ran a hand through his sleep tousled hair and it fell mostly into place. The Chief Prosecutor was watching him with what looked like barely disguised amusement.

"I'm sorry about what happened yesterday," she said. Miles didn't think she sounded sorry. One could never tell with her—she was a rock.

It wasn't unheard of for him to stay overnight at the office, and Miles was prepared for this at least. He took a fresh shirt and his toiletry kit from his desk and brushed past Chief Skye as he went into the bathroom. She was still watching him.

"Chief Gant honestly didn't know that—"

"He knew!" Miles shouted from the small bathroom. He glared at his own ridiculous face glaring back at him as he put toothpaste on his toothbrush, "They certainly went into all the grisly details during that trial last year."

"I'm sure Chief Gant didn't think it would effect you so severely," Chief Skye said.

Miles grunted and stuck his toothbrush in his mouth and began scrubbing with a vengeance. He kept his eyes on the faucet so he didn't have to look at himself.

"Well, Mister Edgeworth, I didn't come here to beg your forgiveness—I didn't do anything to you."

He didn't answer so she continued.

"Chief Gant asked me to put you on the Honeymoon Case. He said he was very impressed with your work on the investigation yesterday and he wanted you to continue. He said Goodman or Gumshoe could take you around to a few of the crime scenes—"

"Mah mmmpf mo!" Miles said.

"Edgeworth?"

Miles spat and turned on the water to rinse his mouth, "I can't."

"What?" Chief Skye said and Miles was sure she was right next to the bathroom door now. "I mean, if your little 'spell' yesterday is too much—"

Miles frowned and turned his back to the mirror to button a fresh shirt. Somehow in yesterday's fiasco, he'd lost his stays. He shoved the tails of his shirt into his pants and buckled his belt.

"I assure you, Chief Skye, I'm perfectly fine—just don't ask me to ride in that accursed elevator."

The door creaked slightly and he glanced at it—she was leaning against his door.

"I was hoping you'd say that," her voice sounded different buzzing against the door, "So tell me then, why can't you prosecute this case?"

"I thought it was assigned to Payne?" Miles said, "It wouldn't be right to take it from him—he did get Rector convicted."

"And if you hadn't gone into Criminal Affairs yesterday that case would've been closed. Rector might be a craven and cold-blooded killer, but he wasn't the craven cold blooded killer we were looking for."

Miles left the bathroom tugging his vest straight. Chief Skye was standing against his desk framed in the light from the window. Miles swept her with his eyes and went around his desk to put his kit away. She always looked so stiff, so formal—and still, he couldn't deny that she was also very beautiful. Maybe that's why Chief Gant left her to try and convince Miles to take the case.

"I don't mind helping with the investigation," Miles said sitting down behind the polished desk, "But I don't think I should be the one to present it in court."

"Miles," Chief Skye said and her tone made him look up at her, "You can't let that trial last year hold you back. I never took you for a—"

"You say last year like it was so long ago…" Miles frowned at his hands, "but it's only the fourth of January. I spent my last night in the detention center less than a week ago."

"You need to move on or you'll be trapped," her voice had gone cold again, "You can wallow in your own self-pity on your time—but while you're here, as a servant of the public, you need to pull your weight."

"I just…" Miles said almost inaudibly. He just needed more time. That case ripped him open in more ways than he cared to admit. He couldn't stand at that table so soon.

"Edgeworth," Chief Skye said as she straightened to leave, "Think about it tonight then—sleep on it. I can wait for your answer until tomorrow."

Miles frowned. The nightmares had stopped, but he didn't think he'd be able to sleep tonight. He watched her walk toward the door. She paused there and turned back to him. He wasn't very sure, but he thought maybe she smiled a little at him.

"Oh and Edgeworth," she said.

"Chief?"

"It's January fifth," she left his office.

Miles just stared at the door.

Miles blinked into the bright light of morning. The room was white and clean and cold. A hospital? There was a curtain drawn to block his bed from the rest of the room. They were green—a very ugly shade of green.

"Daddy!" Miles screamed and the ordeal flooded back into his mind. Where was his father? "Daddy!"

A woman in white came to his bedside. She was fat and the flesh hung from her arms like pillows. She shushed him gently and hugged him with her fluffy pillow arms while Miles fought to stop crying.

He threw it and there was a bang. Then a scream. A terrible scream.

They didn't tell him anything, but they tried to make him eat oatmeal but Miles felt shaky and sick to his stomach. Then he was told to swallow a pill and it made him sleep.

When he awoke again, he didn't scream for his father—he wanted to, but he didn't. A man came to see him—a doctor. The doctor shined a penlight into his eyes and checked his ears and snapped his fingers around his head. He made Miles wiggle all of his fingers and toes.

"I don't think there's been any permanent damage," the Doctor said to the fat nurse.

She smiled with relief and gave Miles a squeeze on his shoulder. Miles kept thinking about this 'permanent damage'.

"Where's my father?" Miles said after the doctor had gone and the nurse adjusted the curtain.

"Don't worry, dear," she said and she left. That only made Miles worry all the more.

He didn't close his eyes because all he could see was the struggling shadows in that evil red light. Dad fought with that man in the elevator. Miles hugged the pillow to hide his sobbing. It was lonely there. So lonely.

He had a visitor the next day—a detective. The detective wouldn't say anything about his father either. He only asked about that night. All Miles could do was cry, he didn't want to think about it anymore.

Another doctor visited him that day. She didn't wear a white coat, but she had a doctor's ID badge pinned to her sweater and she brought him a stuffed animal. She asked him about his feelings, but he didn't want to talk about how he felt. He wanted to know why his dad hadn't come for him yet.

"Your daddy isn't going to come," she told him, "He's gone."

Miles didn't sleep at all that night. Every time he closed his eyes his vision was filled with that eerie red light. His dad was fighting with that other man. Miles threw that thing and there was a bang. A smell like smoke—maybe? Something burning? Then he screamed that terrible scream. Or was it Dad that screamed?

Miles shivered in that cold room at night, alone—though there were other patients in that room—he was so alone. He hugged his pillow and that stuffed thing but it didn't help.

Miles didn't know how many days or nights passed that way—it felt like forever. The detective came back to visit him twice more, but Miles had even less to say to him each time.

"I just don't think I can step foot inside a courtroom ever again," Miles said, "Not as a prosecutor, anyway."

Pess looked at him and cocked her head. Miles turned the baseball in his hand and stared at the water and the yellow light of the afternoon sun glittering upon it. Miles leaned back on the park bench and stared at the baseball in his hands. The stitches were worn and discolored and unraveling in places where the dog had chewed on it.

Miles swallowed and clenched and unclenched his jaw. Pess sat quietly watching him. He continued to turn the ball in his hands with much too much focus. His brow was furrowed and his mouth set in a frown.

"I just don't believe in it anymore," Miles said. He sat forward with his elbows on his knees. Pess whimpered and cocked her head in the other direction.

"No, that's not it…" Miles said.

Pess put one of her big paws on his lap and whimpered again. Miles put his hand on her head and scratched her ears.

"But even if I tried to explain it, they wouldn't believe me," Miles said, "It's all so… frustrating…"

"Edgeworth?" Miles looked up at the caller and groaned. Phoenix Wright was walking toward him. Phoenix grinned.

"Miles Edgeworth?"

'Well how many Edgeworths do you know, Wright?' Miles let his sarcasm go unspoken. Pess had turned her attention to the intruder and it was obvious the big dog frightened the man.

"Pess!" Miles said and he stood and threw the ball. Pess barked once and shot off after it. When Miles turned back Phoenix was already sitting on Miles' bench.

"Why don't you have that thing on a leash?" Phoenix said.

"I have a leash right here," Miles sat down and held up the bundled leather. Phoenix made a face at him.

"What are you doing here, Wright?" Miles said glaring at the ground.

"What? It's a public park," Phoenix said, "I could ask you the same thing."

"I'm not allowed to throw baseballs indoors," Miles said blandly.

"Larry and I came to check out the new remote control boat rental place," Phoenix said smiling again, "But Larry met some chick over by the snow cone stand—"

"Snow cones? In January?" Miles said.

"Well, I didn't say it was open, but the stand—whoa!" Phoenix jumped up suddenly and was standing on the bench. Pess had dropped the ball at Miles' feet and was sniffing curiously at Phoenix.

"Come here, girl," Miles said and he scratched her ears and rubbed the fur around her face. She barked and licked Miles' the face.

"Aww puppy!" Miles said, "Does that man scare you?"

"Th-that monster is bigger than me!" Phoenix said.

"He's a defense attorney—don't defense attorneys taste good?" Miles crooned.

Pess barked and Phoenix jumped over the back of the bench and stood behind Miles.

"Edgeworth!" Phoenix's voice cracked a little in desperation.

"Oh she won't hurt you," Miles said, but he clipped her leash back on, "Pess sit. There's a good girl."

Phoenix took his seat beside Miles cautiously, never taking his eyes from the big dog.

"Pess this is Phoenix Wright," Miles said to the dog, Phoenix rolled his eyes, "Wright meet Pess."

The dog held up one of her front paws and waved it in front of Phoenix. Phoenix stared at her apprehensively.

"Don't be rude," Miles said. Phoenix shook her paw. Pess wagged her tail enthusiastically and then put her front paws onto Phoenix's lap and licked his face.

"Well see that?" Miles said, "She likes you."

Phoenix didn't look so certain. Miles continued to play with his dog rubbing her ears and letting her lick his face and neck. Phoenix cleared his throat.

"So," he said, "I saw on the news that that Rector guy—"

"I know," Miles said, "Pess relax."

Phoenix's eyebrows shot up when the dog lay down at Miles' feet.

"Did you train her yourself?" Phoenix asked.

"Mostly," Miles said.

"Um… So…" Phoenix said, "The other day… You know when we were at the courthouse…"

Miles crossed his arms and glared out at the water. He didn't say anything.

"Well," Phoenix continued, "I'm sorry if I pissed you off…"

"You didn't," Miles said.

"Yeah well you seemed like you were kinda mad and I thought you were mad at me—"

"Wright," Miles looked at Phoenix directly, "I don't waste my time thinking trivial thoughts about trivial people."

"Oh," Phoenix said, and he crossed his arms too, "I see."

Neither of them spoke for several minutes, though Miles could feel Phoenix's gaze fall on him every now and again in that time. Miles didn't mind him really—did he? Phoenix Wright, the lucky lawyer extraordinaire, the idiot savant—and yet Phoenix not only got him acquitted—he solved DL-6 too. Miles glare softened, but he refused to look at Phoenix.

"So I saw this show on TV the other day," Phoenix started. Miles didn't watch TV—not the network stuff. He preferred to choose his own programming.

"Wright why are you just sitting here?" Miles said.

"I could ask you the same thing," Phoenix said. Miles groaned.

"Well, anyway," Phoenix continued, "I lost Larry on another one of his doomed romantic escapades. Maya's gone, so there's no point going back to the office. You're a friend and you're alone—"

"I'm not alone," Miles said.

"Right," Phoenix said, "Does your dog talk with you?"

Miles didn't answer. He always felt better when he talked to Pess.

"I didn't think so," Phoenix said, "So I'm here."

"What makes you think I have anything to say to you?" Miles said.

"Well," Phoenix said, "You did profess your undying love for me on a bottle of champagne."

"I told you I didn't put those cards on the champagne!" Miles said.

Phoenix was smiling, "So defensive…"

Miles stood, "If you insist on being silly, then I'm going home."

Phoenix shrugged, "Well I'll have to watch this beautiful sunset all by myself."

"Stop it," Miles said, "Good night, Phoenix Wright."

"You know Miles," Phoenix said still gazing wistfully at the sunset, "If you don't talk about it no one can help you."

Miles paused and looked at him, "You're a nonsensical fool."

"Okay," Phoenix said, "Maybe…"

Miles called Pess to heel and left Phoenix sitting on the bench. He didn't understand it. That trial had brought too much out in the open—that's why he'd refused Phoenix's counsel—and yet—Phoenix was the only one who seemed to believe that case had a chance. Miles had to trust him—and that didn't sit too well with him.

A/N: Thanks for Reading! Thanks for reviewing too!

I can't describe how much it means to get feedback—I always say that I write these stories for myself, but it's so easy to lose motivation—so thanks for keeping the fire burning (so to speak).

So I think now we've hit a point that people recognize from the game, things begin to get a little dark from here on out….o.0

5JUL2015 Minor edits and grammatical/spelling fixes