Chapter 13

Air Quotes

That was the second time Miles had ever flown on an airplane. He didn't remember it being so awful, but then, he'd never flown to Germany before. He sat next to Mr. Von Karma on the plane, but Von Karma did not speak to him.

Miles wasn't sure what to think. He wasn't sure what had happened, but he was going to stay with Mr. Von Karma. He was at school one day and Mr. Von Karma came and took him back to the orphanage and he had to pack his things. Miles stayed at Von Karma's big house outside the city for a few days and then they went to the airport.

Miles liked the airport. It was like seeing the whole world in one building. Everyone had somewhere to go and do and no one seemed to be idling about. But the flight was another story. The flight was very long, and somehow along the way the pilot managed to find not just one, but three storms. He wasn't sure why, but they frightened him terribly. Mister Von Karma seemed very disappointed about that—Miles figured that was why the man didn't speak to him.

Miles never remembered being so terrified of things like that—earthquakes and turbulence. Then the images of that night crept into his mind—that might've been what triggered all of that. Miles couldn't sleep on the flight.

They landed in Frankfurt and Miles found that he was exhausted after the flight. Von Karma kept telling him to stop acting like a child and keep up. He ended up smacking Miles in the ear every time he nodded off. Miles tried to explain to him what happened on the flight—but Von Karma only said something about 'Edgeworth's line' and maybe he'd been mistaken and Miles was too sleepy to really understand.

They were picked up at the airport by a chauffeur in a very fancy car—Miles later learned that it was custom built in the style of the old Packards of the 1920's but updated with the latest in German engineering for performance.

He missed his first glimpse of the city, having fallen asleep almost immediately upon settling in the back seat of the car. But he remembered being shaken roughly awake in the drive of an ancient looking mansion. Von Karma wasn't one to hold Miles' hand but he was forced to, as Miles was still groggy, and he kept gaping up at the façade of the Von Karma house.

Miles was half dragged toward the big house and he tripped once on the stone stairs—he later found an ugly purple bruise on his knee from that—until Von Karma found a maid to take him. She protested in German—at least that's what it sounded like—but then Miles didn't know enough German to really say what the maid asked Mister Von Karma.

She took him upstairs and made him take a bath and even came in twice while he was washing to make sure, he did it up to standard. The clothes he was given to wear didn't fit right, as he was taller and thinner than the intended recipient. But he'd manage and Miles didn't complain—even though they were kind of frilly and heavy with brocade and lace. It was kind of like dressing up for Halloween. Miles frowned as the maid straightened his jacket. He had spent Halloween with Larry and Phoenix. Now he was in Germany, and he didn't know when he'd be going back.

"Um," Miles asked the maid, "How long will I have to stay here?"

She glared at him for a moment and then returned to fastidiously adjusting his costume—she only spoke German.

January 9, 11:50 A.M.

District Court

Courtroom No. 2

Miles slammed his fist on the tabletop and glared at the defense and her bouncing pixie-haircut. She couldn't be serious?

"Doctor Steinberg," she said and flicked the blown-up photo in her hand and leaned against the witness stand, "Please take a look at exhibit A, and tell me how this constitutes, professional behavior."

Miles was starting to sweat, he could feel it trickle between his shoulder blades; he wanted desperately to take off his jacket. He tugged at his cravat and pixie-haircut glanced sidelong at him and had the audacity to smile. Doctor Steinberg was sweating too—sweating bullets—and wiping his face with a red polka dot handkerchief.

"Witness! Explain yourself," Edgeworth said.

"W-well," Doctor Steinberg said.

The doctor was starting to stutter like Rector, Miles grimaced at him. Hadn't they asked him about this? Hadn't they done a background check? Hadn't he come highly recommended?

"The court demands an explanation, Doctor," the Judge said.

"It's not what it looks like," Doctor Steinberg said, "We were conducting a—um re-enactment for a Federal Investigation."

"Hmm," the Judge said, "Why don't you tell us about that."

Edgeworth relaxed; maybe he could still salvage this.

Doctor Steinberg wiped his face again and cleared his throat to begin his next testimony, "I get called in to help with a lot of investigations all over the country. Some agencies take a different approach. I swear I'm not a necrophiliac."

"What's a necrophiliac?" the Judge said.

"That's when someone makes—" Shield said.

"Uh, Your Honor," Edgeworth said, "Let's not go there…"

"Now I really want to know," the Judge said.

"You really don't, Your Honor," Edgeworth said.

"What's the matter, sonny boy?" Shield said and grinned wickedly at him, "Your tightie-whities a little too tightie?"

Edgeworth just glared at her.

"Your Cross-examination," the Judge said to Shield.

"Thank you, Your Honor," she said. Edgeworth stared stonily at her, she was ten times worse when she thought things were going her way.

"You said you get called in to do all kinds of investigations—are they all murder investigations?"

"Yes," Doctor Steinberg said, "Most of them are serial murders, but sometimes it's hard to tell."

"What do you mean?"

"On several occasions, I've been called in to a police agency to look at the possibility that several homicide cases are related, only to determine that they were in fact disparate cases."

"What do you mean, by desperate—"

"Disparate," Edgeworth interjected, "Not similar or contrasting. I think the doctor meant to say, the cases were determined to be unrelated."

"Well," Shield said, "I bet you're fun at parties."

Edgeworth frowned at her.

"Please continue," the Judge said.

"Doctor Steinberg, you stated that some agencies take a—," Shield held up her hands and made finger quotes, "'different approach' in their investigative process—can you elaborate?"

"Objection, Your Honor, the defense is merely trying to waste our time—it's irrelevant to this case how other agencies conduct their investigations," Edgeworth said.

"Well," Shield said, "Maybe your—" she made finger quotes at him—"'Agency' might learn a thing or two about investigating."

"Overruled," the Judge said, "We might learn something, new."

Edgeworth gnashed his teeth. Shield smirked at him.

"Go ahead, Doctor Steinberg," Shield said.

"Not all of the agencies that consult with me are police departments. I get called in to do Federal Investigations too. Sometimes, we are merely focused on building a criminal's profile—not necessarily to make an arrest. Sometimes the criminal is already in custody, or deceased. That means sometimes we have to do re-enactments of the crimes, since the evidence is old, degraded, or non-existent."

"Is that why you went and had intercourse with the dea—"

"OBJECTION! That's gratuitous and vulgar!"

"OBJECTION! You're gratuitous and vulgar!"

"OBJECTION!" Edgeworth shouted at her, fuming. He was still breathless after his last objection.

The entire courtroom was silent.

"Well? Mister Edgeworth?" the Judge said breaking the silence.

Edgeworth had his arms crossed and his eyes closed, "I find the defense offensive."

"The Prosecutor is a prudish little snot," Shield said, "If he can't handle these proceedings he can go to traffic court."

"Um," the Judge said, "Mister Edgeworth?"

Edgeworth still had his arms crossed and his eyes closed, "Your Honor, what difference does it make if Doctor Steinberg is a creepy old man? That doesn't change the validity of his earlier testimony nor the fact that the defendant is a deranged mass murderer."

"I resent the term 'creepy-old-man'," the Judge said and Edgeworth was dismayed to see him making finger quotes.

"You're not creepy, Your Honor," Shield said, "You're distinguished."

"Objection," Edgeworth said and held up his index finger, "Stop sucking up."

"Overruled," the Judge said, "Flattery will get you everywhere."

Edgeworth sighed wearily, "I think we're done with this witness."

The Judge smacked his gavel, "Next!"

"The Prosecution wishes to call—"

"OBJECTION!" Shield screamed, "I wasn't done!"

"Yes you were," Edgeworth said.

"Your Honor!"

"The Defense may speak," the Judge said.

Shield slapped the tabletop and leaned forward to glare at Doctor Steinberg and then Edgeworth, "I have no further questions Your Honor."

Edgeworth snorted derisively and crossed his arms again.

"The Prosecution wishes to call Sheila E. to the stand," he said.

Shield was glaring at him through the fringe of her pixie haircut.

A lanky man with a stubbly beard and a roped fedora took the stand and grinned around at the court audience.

"Please state your name and occupation for the record," Edgeworth said.

"G'day, I'm Sheila E," the man said, "I'm the night security guard at Ivy University. I wrestle gators during the day."

Edgeworth made a face; the Judge was staring curiously at the man.

"Um, Sheila…?" the Judge said.

"Yeah, Pop?" Sheila said.

"Nothing—it just seems like an odd name," the Judge said.

"Your Honor," Edgeworth said, "Mr. E was present on the night Chitty Bang was attacked by the defendant—he was the first responder, if you will."

"Oh," the Judge said, still eyeing Sheila with a sidelong glance.

"Mr. E," Edgeworth said, "Please testify about the night you met Chitty Bang."

Sheila grinned and touched the brim of his hat, "Sure thing, mate!"

Shield wasn't looking at the witness, she was staring at Edgeworth, and he gave her a sidelong glare in return. Sheila cleared his throat.

"So I'm the night guard at the University, and I was in the guard box that night. This Sheila come up to me—let me tell you she was buck ass naked—"

"Um," Edgeworth said, "What did we talk about earlier?"

"Right," Sheila said sheepishly, "she had no clothes on—not a strip—and she was all scared like. She said that a man had come into her window, and he'd tried to choke her. But she got away, and came to me. She said her name was Chitty Bang."

"Oh my," the Judge said, "Who is Chitty Bang again?"

"Chitty Bang was the first victim to come to the police," Edgeworth said, "Because she was able to escape with her life."

"Oh, right," the Judge said, "Shield, your cross-examination?"

Miles was back in his element, after the close call with Doctor Steinberg, he expected Shield to put up more of a fight. He managed to get two eyewitnesses through their testimony and cross-examinations before the Judge ended the trial for the day. He was back on top and that's exactly where he wanted to be.

Gumshoe met him on the courthouse steps with a very bored and pouty Franziska in tow. Gumshoe grinned at him.

"How'd it go, sir?"

"Well enough," Miles said and looked at his adoptive sister, "Did you behave yourself?"

"Don't talk to me like that," Franziska said. Miles looked at Gumshoe.

"She was great," Gumshoe said and he frowned and rubbed his neck, "I have to run by the precinct."

"Thanks, Gumshoe," Miles said and put a hand on Franziska's shoulder. He directed her back down the courthouse steps toward the parking lot.

"What did you do today?" Miles asked her.

"That scruffy detective took me to Lordly Tailor," she said, "Then he got a call, so I went with him."

"What kind of call?"

"A break in," Franziska shrugged, "You know, if I was prosecuting, this trial would already be over."

Miles couldn't stop himself from smiling, "Oh really?"

"Please Miles, I've been prosecuting almost as long as you have," she said and tapped her riding crop against her thigh for emphasis.

"This trial is very big," Miles said, "Chief Skye had to fight to prosecute the case in this district. It's going to take a few days just to get through all of the evidence."

Franziska made derisive noise, "Stop bragging, Miles."

Miles shrugged and opened the car door for her, "Uh shoes…"

"Doesn't the car have mats for a reason?" She said as she handed her shoes over one at a time, "Be careful with those, you can only get those in Paris."

Satisfied that they were free of dirt, Miles set her shoes on the car floor next to her feet and closed her door. Franziska was poking at her phone when he sat at the wheel and started the car. Miles looked at her with a frown, "I'm sorry about all this," he said, "I tried to get out of it, but Chief Skye insisted."

She only shrugged and continued to play on the phone.

"You've been losing all of your cases, lately," she said without looking up, "So you ought to be working to rebuild your reputation."

Miles shook his head and chuckled. Franziska paused and looked up from her phone, "What's so funny Miles?"

"It's not just about winning, Franziska," Miles said, "These trials aren't a race for personal glory, people's lives are on the line—I learned that the hard way last year."

Franziska raised an eyebrow and looked sidelong at him, "If you'd worked a little harder at being perfect, you wouldn't be on a case you might lose. You can refuse to prosecute if the defendant is innocent."

Miles shifted down and frowned at the glaring red light, one foot on the brake and the other just touching the clutch in anticipation. Her father hadn't refused to prosecute his trial. Miles glanced at his little sister, but was distracted when the light flashed green.

"Miles," Franziska said, "I'm going to visit Papa tomorrow."

"Okay," Miles said, "I'll be in court. Wellington can take you, unless you wanted to go with Gumshoe."

"Why are you friends with that hobo?"

Miles frowned again. He didn't know why he felt defensive, "We're colleagues. That's all."

"He talked about you all day, like you were a god," Franziska shifted in her seat never taking her eyes off of her phone.

"What are you doing on your phone?" Miles said.

"I'm chatting with Geoffrey," she said.

"You didn't tell me you were seeing anyone," Miles said.

"Why, are you jealous?" Franziska looked at him and grinned wickedly.

Miles laughed, "No."

"Besides, Geoffrey isn't my boyfriend. He was the victim in my last trial, and we get along. Is Gumshoe your boyfriend?" Franziska said.

"Now you're being silly," Miles said.

Franziska put her phone down and leaned forward in her seat, "Do you have a girlfriend, Miles? Have you ever had a girlfriend since—"

"Why are you worried about that?" Miles said.

Franziska shrugged, "Because you're getting old. You look haggard."

Miles grinned and shook his head, "Will you look after me, when I get my wheelchair? Change my diapers?"

Franziska laughed, "Eww no! I didn't mean… You're not that old—even Papa is still pretty spry—and he's almost three times your age."

Miles lost all trace of mirth at the mention of Manfred Von Karma. His brow furrowed; Manfred was her father. She'd always talk about him.

"Can we go dancing tonight?"

"I have court tomorrow," Miles said.

"Can I go then?"

"No," Miles said.

"You must be the most boring person on earth!"

"It's because of my advanced age," Miles chided and Franziska answered by sticking her tongue out at him. She picked up her phone again.

"Miles," he told the little girl when she asked him what his name was. She was only about two years old—but precocious—and surprisingly well spoken at her age.

Miles had been staying at the Von Karma house for almost two weeks, but this was the first time he'd ever seen her.

"She stays with her mother, when I'm away," Mister Von Karma explained when they went to pick her up from the train station.

She stared at him now, examining him carefully as she walked around him in circles.

"You're big," she said finally, "I want a little little brother."

"I'm nine—" Miles started to explain but she lifted a chubby hand and clapped her fingertips in a motion like a crab claw. Mister Von Karma did that too, it meant 'shut up'.

"I came first," she told him, "You are my little brother."

Miles didn't see any point in protesting—she was only a little kid; she'd figure it out when she was older.

"Papa!" she announced, "I want to see Herr Detweiler."

Mister Von Karma looked up from is book and glared at him, "Go with her, Edgeworth."

Miles stood stiffly and waited for the little girl to lead the way. He shot one look toward the man as Franziska led him out of the library, but Mister Von Karma was already engrossed in his book.

"Who is Mister Detweiler?" Miles asked as she led him out the back door and onto the extensive grounds of the estate.

"Herr Detweiler," Franziska corrected with her little nose in the air.

Miles frowned, "Okay."

"He is my horse," Franziska said.

"Oh," he said and his frown deepened, "I've never seen a horse up close before."

"You are unsophisticated," she said annunciating the word slow and precisely and Miles guessed that she must have heard someone else say the word before but didn't really know what it meant. He frowned, wondering who would teach a little girl to say things like that.

Miles slowed to look around as she led the way through the gardens—the estate had very nice gardens and he still hadn't had the opportunity to explore them at his leisure.

"Abbo! Bringen sie Herr Detweiler zu mir!" she called out as they neared the stables, "Abbo!"

Abbo was a groom and groundskeeper for the estate, he was very tall and burly and Miles stood back when he approached. Franziska had no fear of the big man and he picked her up and carried her the rest of the way to the stable while she talked away in rapid-fire German. Miles was all but forgotten, but he jogged to catch them up.

She must have told Abbo about him, because the big man paused to look at him for a moment. Miles stared up at him with a frown. Abbo tugged at his handlebar moustache and nodded a greeting before turning back to his assigned task.

Franziska pointed excitedly. Miles smiled.

Herr Detweiler was a dappled grey pony with stubby legs and a potbelly. Abbo was busy placing the pony's tack and Franziska was left to wander about the stables. Abbo grinned jovially at Miles, "Sie sind Edgeworth?"

Miles only nodded.

Abbo tightened another strap on the pony's bridle and then went to grab his saddle. Franziska was playing with some of the tack that had been left out for repairs. Miles startled when a long strip of leather fell across the top of his head. Abbo was already trying to take the horsewhip out of her hands and saying something to her in German. She argued with him for several minutes before looking at Miles.

She shot him a nervous look.

Miles frowned.

Franziska grinned and swung the horsewhip again and the leather fell right on top of his head. Miles was grateful her little arms didn't have the strength yet to hit him properly.

Miles opened the door to the stairwell and let Pess go in ahead of him. He jogged up the stairs after her and paused on his ninth floor landing to catch his breath. Pess licked his arm and scratched at the door. Miles was bent over and panting.

"Six miles," he told her half-scolding, "and you make me run up the stairs… You're trying to kill me."

Pess wagged her tail and looked up at him, tongue lolling. Miles let her into the corridor and followed. He was surprised when Wellington came out into the corridor to greet him.

"Sir," Wellington said.

"Is something wrong?" Miles said, he was sweating and did not want to stand around that way.

"Miss Von Karma, is terrorizing Mrs. Kucharka," Wellington said.

Miles frowned, "What happened?"

"She was awake at three in the morning—"

"I didn't see her when I left," Miles said.

"Well, sir," Wellington said—too polite to tell Miles that he'd been half-asleep when he took Pess and went for a run, "I think the girl is still having trouble with the time change. But Mrs. Kucharka, didn't know she'd be up, and no one deserves to be smacked like a dog with a crop."

Miles nodded, "Okay. I'll take care of it, Wellington."

Wellington turned and opened the door to let Pess and Miles inside. Miles glanced into the sitting room and saw Franziska sitting there with her arms crossed angrily. He continued into the kitchen where his cook was sitting in the corner, eyes red from crying. She jumped to her feet when she saw him.

"Mr. Edgeworth!" she squeaked.

"Madam," Miles said by way of greeting, "What is the problem here?"

"Oh, sir," the cook said trembling, "I wake up every morning before the sunrise, so you can have your breakfast ready and waiting when you want. But I cannot have breakfast at three in the morning too, sir. I simply can not!"

"No one's asking you to make breakfast at three in the morning," Miles said.

"But she is asking me, sir. And she woke me up and hit me with a horse whip," Mrs. Kucharka said.

"It's a riding crop—you'd know if it was a horsewhip," Miles said absently as he weighed her complaint in his head, "I'll talk with her, Cook, but in the meantime you'll leave the kettle full and the toaster out before you go to bed and Franziska can help herself. There's no reason to throw all of our lives into turmoil over a visit. Now go clean yourself up and don't worry about it anymore."

"Mister Edgeworth, thank you," Mrs. Kucharka said and gave a slight bow with her head.

"Take care," Miles said already turning away to talk to Franziska.

He lifted the edge of his shirt to wipe his face and frowned when he looked up to see Franziska staring up at him from the divan. Pess was resting her head in Franziska's lap.

"Miles you look incredibly hot this morning," she said turning her head so she could look at him sidelong.

"If there's a problem, you can ask Wellington to adjust the thermostat," Miles said still trying to think of a way to broach the subject of her abusing the cook.

"Franziska, I know you only just got in and you're still having problems with the time change—"

"I didn't know you ran. How far did you run? Do you go often?"

"Franziska—"

"Are you trying to make yourself more attractive for the ladies?"

"Really, Franziska! Stop interrupting me; I don't have a lot of time. I have to be in court this morning, and thanks to you, I'm going to have to get breakfast on the way."

"She wouldn't make hot water for me!"

"You can turn on a kettle yourself, Franziska," Miles said, "There's no need for you to go terrorizing my staff!"

"Fine!" Franziska said, "But this morning I couldn't find the kettle, you don't expect me to go rummaging about in your kitchen like a housewife do you?"

"Well, no," Miles said, "I don't expect you to go rummaging about anywhere in my-my—it that MY SHIRT!?"

"Oh this?" Franziska said and she tossed her hair and held up an arm so he could see how the large cuff of the crisp white shirt fell over her delicate hand, "Now don't get excited, you have so many of them, and they smell nice. I thought I'd help myself."

"I ought to send you to your father's house!" Miles said coldly and crossed his arms.

"Miles!" Franziska said and stood up to glare more directly at him, "I don't want to stay in that big house by myself, if you don't want me here, I'll get a room at the Gatewater."

"I'm not paying for a hotel," Miles said, "just so you can run amuck in the city."

"I don't do anything 'amuck'," Franziska said holding up her hands in finger quotes, "I'm perfect!"

Miles groaned and ran his hand through his hair, only to find that it was still damp with sweat. Miles grimaced and wiped his hand on his shirt.

"I'm going to get ready," Miles said and turned away from her, "Behave yourself, and maybe we'll go out this evening."

"Ooh where?" Franziska said, but Miles had already disappeared down the corridor.

A/N: Thanks for Reading!

Brooke N. Shield… I was going for the female version of Winston Payne + Jim Carrey in Liar Liar… I don't think Edgeworth is a fan…

It's weird rooting for the Prosecution in this case…0.o

Pess… Aww… I ought to draw a picture of that dog… Especially since my cover picture of Edgeworth looks retarded…

"finger quotes"… man, I hate finger quotes…

The point here… a little of their sibling squabbling…

Miles' household servants:

Butler: Edmund Wellington (def inspired by Archer's Woodhouse)

Cook: Mrs. Kucharka (she's eastern European)

Maid: Ada Harris (If anyone can guess that reference, they get a prize)

I don't speak German at all, so any corrections to my limited translations would be greatly appreciated.

There is an explanation as to why Edgeworth has such a large household and staff….

UPDATED 5JUL2015 – So when I started writing this story I had the age difference between them at five years—I can't remember why. Then it was all over the place in some parts—I think I had her in the airport scene at 15 or 16, and then in the flashback here she was four. As you all know, they are actually 7 years apart. So she is now two. I left the scene, but at two years old, it seems a little far-fetched.