Chapter 18

Blood at the Discotheque

Miles stood on the platform with Franziska; she was livid and refused to hold his hand.

"I'm not a little girl!" she shouted at him when he tried to take it earlier.

He was only here to tell her goodbye, he and Mister Von Karma were leaving for Cohdopia for three days and then California for the next two weeks. She wasn't happy with that.

Miles frowned at his little sister, he didn't want to leave her behind—there was no reason she couldn't come—except that Mister Von Karma only wanted Miles along with him. So why was she taking this out on him?

"Franziska, I'll get you something nice from California," Miles said.

"I don't want anything from there! I bet it's a stupid place anyway!"

"Franziska," Miles said, "I'm sure, Mister Von Karma—"

"He's my Papa! Why is he taking you with him? It should be me!"

"It's a business trip—it'll be boring. We're going to be in courthouses, staring into books—you're not going to be missing very much. Don't be upset."

Franziska glared at him, holding back her tears. Then she stomped on his foot. Miles gasped and lifted his leg and leaned down to check his injured toes. Franziska took the opportunity to whack him across the face with her riding crop.

Before Miles could recover, the train arrived and Franziska boarded.

When Miles left the station he found Mister Von Karma's car waiting outside. He could see Mister Von Karma silhouetted in the back window. Miles stared at the car with dread, he couldn't move. The window came down.

"Stop daydreaming Edgeworth!" Mister Von Karma shouted, "We have a plane to catch!"

Miles opened the door and joined Mister Von Karma in the back seat. He didn't even offer the man a look for a greeting. They drove for a few minutes in silence before Von Karma folded the paper he'd been reading and set it to the side.

"What is it now Edgeworth?"

Miles glanced at him before returning his gaze to his own hands clasped in his lap.

"Nothing, sir."

"Then stop moping," Von Karma said, and he picked up the paper again, "You're worse than my ex-wife."

Miles let the silence linger for a moment and looked at the older man again.

"Sir, I don't see why Franziska can't come along on these trips too. It's in line with her studies—"

"Edgeworth!" Mister Von Karma snapped, without looking up from his paper, "Franziska is a Von Karma, she doesn't need this as badly as you do."

Miles frowned at him, "Well, sir. I don't think she sees it that way. She was very upset that we're going without her."

"She's not upset," Mister Von Karma said, "You tend to misconstrue things, Edgeworth, it's probably the biggest barrier you face in life."

Miles' brow furrowed. 'Barrier?' what did that have to do with anything? Silence. Miles shifted stiffly in his seat—he didn't want to disturb Mister Von Karma. Eventually the window took his attention and he stared out with his chin in his hand—like he used to sit when he was a small boy.

"How old are you now, Edgeworth?" Miles turned to see Mister Von Karma staring at him. He hesitated in responding—counting the months in his head.

"S-seventeen, sir," Miles said finally.

"It's gone by very fast," Mister Von Karma said..

Miles swallowed, he didn't think the last eight years had passed quickly at all.

"You have been a difficult student," Mister Von Karma sniffed, "But I think it's time we tried you in court."

Miles only nodded in reply, unsure of what to say.

"I'm not expecting very much," Mister Von Karma said and rattled his paper, "But I'd rather not drag this out longer than need be. It's time you started working on your own."

Miles had to fight hard not to smile. Did this mean Mister Von Karma was going to let him go? Was he going to be emancipated?

He looked up at the old man and frowned. Mister Von Karma was eying him strangely.

"Tell me, Edgeworth, what do you see when you look in the mirror?"

Miles balled his hands into fists. He refused to look at Von Karma again, "Um… Sir?"

"What do you see? Do you see yourself? Is that lovely face that greets you yours alone? Or do you see him?"

Miles swallowed again. A pained expression crossed his face for a moment before he could compose himself. Was this a test? Why did Mister Von Karma have to do things like this?

"Edgeworth? Did you hear me?"

"Sir, I—Mister Von Karma…" Miles stammered.

Suddenly Von Karma had him by the chin and he dragged Miles toward him. His bony hands were cold and painful against Miles' jaw. Mister Von Karma held Miles' face close to his own—they were a hand's width apart. Von Karma grinned wickedly at him.

"Beautiful boy," Von Karma said, and Miles found he couldn't close his eyes. He was locked to that icy glare like a deer dazzled by the lights of an oncoming car. Von Karma brushed the hair from Miles' face with his free hand. Miles tried to swallow. Tried to breathe.

"You have your father's face," Von Karma said and he snorted derisively before letting Miles go. Miles huddled into the car door with his arms hugging his chest and his stare focused on his knees.

"How is that, Miles Edgeworth," Von Karma said chuckling, "staring at that face every morning? Knowing the killer and the victim in one glance?"

Miles made a small frightened noise in his throat, but didn't move from where he was. Manfred Von Karma was still laughing when the car stopped in front of the airport.

Miles opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. His head hurt—last night felt like a bad dream. His phone rang again, and Miles got up to answer it. And couldn't find it. His clothes were still piled where he'd left them and he found his trousers and dug in the pockets for his phone. He put it to his ear.

"Edgeworth," he said.

"Oh, I hope I didn't wake you up, sir," Gumshoe said.

"No," Miles said—the phone did wake him up.

"We're wanted for questioning," Gumshoe said.

"Why?" Miles said, "I wasn't even there when it happened."

"Hey Pal! Don't shoot the messenger," Gumshoe said, "They're not making it difficult—the precinct downtown just wants us to get down there before close of business today. I'm taking Gina and Chihiro at one-thirty, do you want to meet us?"

"Um," Miles said, "No. I'll get down there later, I'm assuming they want to talk to Franziska too?"

"Yeah," Gumshoe said, "Call if you need anything then. Good luck!"

"Okay, you too," Miles said, "Take care."

He threw his phone on the bed and went to shower.

Miles entered the dining room and Pess ran up to him and nearly knocked him down. She whimpered at him, ears back and tail down.

"What's the matter, girl?"

Pess barked at him.

"Miles?"

He looked up and saw Franziska seated at the breakfast nook reading the paper. He frowned; she was dressed for business—gray suit, white shirt. Gloves.

He joined her at the table with Pess at his heel.

"Your dog is so annoying," Franziska said.

"What?" Miles said, "What are you up to?"

"Eat something, Miles," Franziska said and looked up from the paper for the first time.

"We have to go to the police precinct downtown," she said.

"Yeah," Miles said, "Gumshoe called me."

"Well," she said turning a page and giving the paper a snap, "If you hadn't slept all day, we'd be on our way back by now."

Miles glared at her, "I'm sorry I slept all day. I didn't know you had such a tight schedule today."

Franziska glanced at him with her cold Von Karma stare, "You ought to be nicer to me, Little Brother, not only is my father suffering in that prison while he is waiting for the High Court to decide his fate, but I've just lost a friend."

Miles swallowed, "The Karlssen girl… I'm sorry Fran—"

"Oh please, Miles," Franziska said coldly, "She's fine. I was talking about Henri."

"Who's that?"

"Stop stalling Miles," she said, "Finish your breakfast and get dressed."

"I talked with the Karlssen girl's father last night," Miles said he stared at the covered platters laid out on the table and spread his napkin on his lap, "You were... Ah—indisposed—so you couldn't have known…"

"Her father called this morning," Franziska said, "He wanted to thank you."

Miles frowned at the platter in front of him. He set the cover back on it and put his napkin back on the table and stood.

"Where are you going?" Franziska said.

"I'm going to get dressed and we'll go," he said.

"Not until you've had something to eat," Franziska slammed the paper onto the table, "You look ill Miles."

"It was a bad night; a long bad night," he said, but he sat back down, "I have a headache."

"I went to visit Papa," Franziska said out of nowhere.

Miles frowned again, "How'd you get all the way to the prison by yourself?"

"I'm not a child, Miles," she said, "Wellington drove me. I wanted to wake you, to let you know I was leaving—but Wellington wouldn't let me. He seemed worried about you."

Miles didn't respond to that, but he lifted the cover from the platter in front of him again—eggs, scrambled; sausages, pan seared; tomatoes, roasted. He frowned at it and replaced the cover.

"I don't blame him," Franziska continued, picking up the paper again, "You're as pale as a ghost this morning and you look like you haven't slept. I haven't seen you like this since—"

"Please, I don't want to talk about that—my head already hurts," Miles rubbed his face, "I'm fine. Besides, you arrived while I was in the middle of this blasted serial murder trial—and it's not over. This—fiasco—last night isn't helping matters."

"Are you admitting to me that you're stressed out, Miles Edgeworth?"

Miles narrowed his eyes and furrowed his brow, he slid the platter out of the way and reached out to check the contents of the next one, "I'm not stressed out," he said almost absently.

"Papa wants to see you," Franziska said.

"Of course he does," Miles said and then he smiled, "Pancakes."

Franziska rolled her eyes, "Are you going to go see him or not?"

Miles glanced at her blandly and stood to go into the kitchen.

"Miles Edgeworth!" Franziska said leaning toward the table to follow him with her glare. Miles returned carrying a teapot with Mrs. Kucharka in tow carrying a jar of peanut butter. He looked up at Franziska when he sat and began slathering his pancakes with peanut butter.

"I think not," He said answering her as if he hadn't moved. Franziska glared at him; the paper started to wrinkle in her grip.

"What is your problem!" Franziska said and she slammed the paper onto the table again. Miles set down the peanut butter and glared at her. He closed his eyes.

"Please don't throw a tantrum," he said, "I'm really not in the moo—"

Franziska threw her napkin at his face. Miles hesitated for a moment and then took up his teacup and leaned back in his seat to sip his tea. He said nothing to her. He picked up her napkin and folded it before setting it aside. He finished his tea and then leaned forward to eat his pancakes. Franziska's glare never left him. He paused after a few bites to attend to Pess who was sitting at his feet and gazing longingly up at him. Miles smiled at his dog and gave her his eggs and sausages.

"You spoil her," Franziska said.

'You're one to talk,' Miles thought as he poured himself another cup of tea before going back to his pancakes. He was hungry after all, and he was starting to feel better after getting some food into his system.

"Did you eat breakfast?" Miles said finally.

"Hours ago," Franziska hissed, thoroughly annoyed—she was never one to hide such things.

"So," Miles said, poking at the last of his pancakes with disinterest, "What happened last night?"

Franziska feigned shock and cocked her head with that 'Me? What could I have done, I'm the victim' look that he'd seen a million times before. "Whatever do you mean?"

Miles smirked at her, "Gumshoe said you snuck out of that lounge place with your friends and went to that other place—where that shooting occurred."

Franziska crossed her arms, "It was Dagmar's idea—she met that boy Henri—the one that died… I tried to stop her, but in the end she was going to go—who was I to let them go alone?"

"It would've kept you out of trouble," Miles said and he filled his teacup again.

"I'm also not a little girl anymore," Franziska said, "I was trying to protect them. Henri seemed like a nice guy, but his friends were shady—very shady. I wanted to keep an eye on things."

"Why didn't you say anything to Gumshoe?"

"I tried to, Miles!" Franziska said, "He was busy with that Gina woman!"

Miles frowned, he didn't want to think about what Gumshoe might have been 'busy' doing.

Miles hid in the bathroom when the madness had died down enough to allow his escape. He locked the stall and put the lid down on the toilet and sat there. He closed his eyes and watched Terry Fawles spit up blood on the witness stand. Miles opened his eyes in shock and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Thus his second trial ended prematurely. He was off to a very good start.

Miles sat there until he heard someone else come in to use the facilities. He hesitated but finally decided he couldn't hide in the bathroom forever. Miles unlocked the door and went to the sink. He glanced in the mirror and saw his father frowning at him in the reflection. Miles blinked—it was his own face frowning. Right?

Miles left the bathroom and exited the courthouse. He was jogging down the steps when he almost smacked into another man.

"Hey, watch it," the other guy said. Miles glared at him but the other man grinned. His hair was swept back in a ridiculous array of spikes and he had a wide earnest stare. There was something familiar about him.

"I'm not mad," the guy said, "I can't be mad. I met the love of my life today. Do you know what that's like? It's like lightning. How can you just walk away from that unchanged?"

Miles frowned at him and turned away.

"Hey, do I know you from somewhere?"

Miles ignored him and continued toward his car. He still had work to do.

"Hey," the other guy's voice faded as Miles put distance between them.

The station was crowded, and Miles couldn't help but allow a slight tinge of envy at the bustling Criminal Affairs Department in this precinct. Gumshoe was still there, talking to a detective in a side bar conversation involving mimed gunshots and laughter. Gina was sitting with Chihiro in an Ad Hoc waiting area set aside for the line of witnesses being questioned in the case.

Miles pretended not to notice them as he led a very morose Franziska to a table where they could check in. She'd been insufferable on the drive over and they currently weren't speaking. Well—she wasn't speaking to him. He just didn't have anything to say right at this moment. He signed in for both of them and Franziska went huffily to the waiting area and took out her phone. Miles stood and watched the other people who'd arrived to give their own version of events.

His phone rang. Miles accepted the call and put the phone to his ear.

"Edgeworth," he said, "Oh, is everything all right? Why—you heard about the trial then?"

Miles chatted while eying the other witnesses waiting around. He saw Franziska get up to greet Gumshoe and they went together to get apple fritters and coffee from a table set out for the witnesses waiting. Franziska followed Gumshoe and the other detective into the Criminal Affairs work floor. She sat on the edge of the desk and swung her legs while picking at her fritter. She paused and held up an index finger to respond to something Gumshoe had said. Miles almost smiled.

Miles was startled when Chihiro approached him. He cleared his throat and said loudly into the phone, "Did you miss me? Actually, you are—but in a good way. Please keep interrupting for a while longer, if you don't mind."

Chihiro was standing next to him now. Miles pretended to be engrossed in the conversation, "Our game is on the fifteenth," he said, "at the diamonds at Expose Park; you should come. I think we'll be in number three."

"Who's on the phone, Miles?" Chihiro said.

"Oh it's just—" Miles glared at her like she was interrupting—well she was, "What was that dear?"

Chihiro frowned at him.

"That is an excellent idea," Miles said enthusiastically into the phone.

"But you are pretty—more than pretty—you're beautiful. Don't fret over that," Miles eyed Chihiro surreptitiously, "Um, sweetheart, have you been watching the news? I don't think that's a good idea. I thought, perhaps, we could have a quiet night by the seashore—we could take the ferry out to the island tomorrow—stroll along the boardwalk—look at the stars… A lady deserves it…"

Chihiro walked away from him. She looked back once to mouth the word 'jerk' in his direction and went to join Gina in front of the television.

They'd been waiting in there over two hours when Miles was called into the conference room set up for questioning. He couldn't help looking a little irritable—after all. There were two detectives in the room, one an older man with a sagging paunch that hung over his belt and the other a woman only a few years older than he was. She had sharp features and amazing hazel eyes shot with green. It was the stupid fringe of her pixie-like haircut that turned him completely off. What was it with that haircut?

"I'm Detective Chasseur and this is my partner Detective Flaco," she held out her hand to him—her voice was dark, seductive, and dangerous. Miles crossed his arms and smirked a little at the detectives—maybe this wasn't so much a waste of time.

"So," Chasseur said tossing her stupid fringed haircut, "You're Miles Edgeworth?"

"Yes," Miles said, he was leaning back in his chair with the cold arrogant boredom that frightened most of his witnesses.

"Miles Edgeworth the prosecutor?" Chasseur looked impressed—Flaco was too busy frowning at his empty coffee cup.

"Yes," Miles said.

"Wow," Chasseur said, "I didn't think you would be the clubbing type."

Miles glared at her, "I happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time."

"Why were you down there that night Mister Edgeworth?"

"My little sister is visiting from overseas, I wanted to show her a good time. She's fond of the discotheque."

"Where you present at the time of the incident?"

"I was not," Miles said, "I received a phone call from another person in our party, telling me that my sister was in that club when it occurred. So I ran toward the scene. I'll admit, I was a little panicked and I might have pushed past the policeman guarding the scene."

"So you weren't your sister's chaperone that night?"

Here Mile's stony façade cracked a little. He sat forward and frowned at the pretty detective. "That was my intention, detective. I'm a little embarrassed—you see I have a certain, um… phobia…"

"Phobia?"

Miles nodded. He crossed his arms and placed them on the table, "I don't like enclosed spaces—especially dark, noisy enclosed spaces. I went into the 404 Lounge with the group but only a few minutes after entering I began to experience a severe anxiety attack—so I left. I didn't want to cut short my sister's fun, so myself and another one of our party went somewhere else. I'm not sure what it was called—it was a diner place. There was an Elvis in the entryway. We stayed there until about a quarter to eleven and then headed back to collect the rest of the party so we could go home."

"Who else was in your party?"

"Gina Cielo, Chihiro Young, Franziska Von Karma, Richard Gumshoe, Dagmar Karlssen and Mei Hyoo Sun."

"Okay," Detective Chasseur flipped through the legal pad she was using to take notes, "We've questioned most of them already and the stories corroborate… So you didn't actually witness the incident?"

"I did not," Miles said.

"Several other witnesses said they saw you enter the crime scene and do a search, what can you tell me about that?"

"I was looking for my sister—Franziska," Miles said, "Gumshoe is a detective in our district so he pulled a few strings. I was told, not very long after I'd arrived that my sister had already been taken to the hospital. I didn't really see very much else."

"Nothing at all?"

"Detective Chasseur, are you asking me if I conducted a thorough investigation last night, the answer is no. I only wanted to find Franziska and get her home safely. If you're asking if I would care to help you conduct your investigation from here on, I don't think my department will be willing to spare the manpower—we do have our own cases to build and prosecute, after all."

"But Detective Gumshoe said you'd be willing to lend a hand," Chasseur said.

Miles slapped his forehead and pulled his hand down his face, "Of course he did."

A/N: Thanks for Reading!

These last few chapters (13-18) were incredibly difficult to write… Like painfully difficult…

I had to cry myself to sleep…

Peanut butter pancakes, my husband eats them that way too—it's so adorable…

First flashback Miles is 17; second flashback he is about 20… (A la turnabout beginnings AA3:T&T)

Chapter 19 is going to be a lot lighter—we need a break from Miles Weltschmerz Edgeworth…

Find out who his mystery girlfriend is! (Okay, you've probably already guessed it…)

UPDATED 6JUL2015 – for minor discrepancies.