Chapter 27

Clash of the Siblings

"One thing, Miles," Maddy said, "And it can't be work related."

Miles was frowning next to her and staring scornfully at the other couple at their table. The other man, Jeff or Charlie or something, was stealing glances at Maddy while his girlfriend or wife grinned at Miles with what he could only describe as plastic encouragement. Miles frowned, they were only three questions in and he couldn't take it.

"Um," Miles said, "I play the flute."

"Oh," Whatsis-name said, "Professionally?"

"No," Miles said.

"Em, well okay," Plastic said, "Next question! Maddy, what are three things you absolutely cannot live without?"

"Oh my," Maddy said, "Let's see… I must have my iPhone—I definitely need that."

Miles crossed his arms while Plastic and Whatsis-name pressured her into divulging the next two things, which, of course, were silly indeed. Then Plastic answered the same question and Miles thought her answers revealed her to be much more vapid than he'd initially thought. Then Jeff or whatever took his turn and named three television channels—Miles thought that was really kind of sad. Finally they all turned to stare at Miles anticipating his response.

"I have to visit the restroom," Miles said and stood, "Please excuse me."

"Answer the question, darling," Maddy said sweetly. She was glaring at him in a way that made him want to duck for cover.

"Oh," Miles said—he was still standing.

"Three things you cannot live without," Plastic reminded him.

Miles frowned, "Food and water."

Plastic and Whatsis-Name stared up at him blankly and Maddy was forcing a smile. Miles thought he saw her eyebrow twitch.

"Three things," Whatsis-name said.

"Right," Miles said and stuck his hands in his pockets casually, but he made a great show of thinking very hard to come up with his answer. "Food, water, and my toothbrush."

"Ah," Plastic said. She even gave a fake laugh like Miles had made a joke that wasn't funny and she was too polite to say anything.

"Well," Whatsis-name said, "You go on and take care of business, old boy. If you don't mind, we'll just go the next few rounds without you."

"Oh," Miles said, "Well, I'd hate to miss it, but I'd feel worse about halting everyone else's fun."

"Oh we can wait," Maddy said, "Do hurry up dear."

Miles looked around at the table hoping no one could read the panic he suddenly felt.

"Oh no, really," Miles said simpering, "You don't have to wait for me—I-I don't mind at all."

"Let's start the next round," Whatsis-name said, "It's my turn."

Miles headed toward the bathroom as quickly as he could. He ought to be well away from the group if he wanted to avoid being dragged into more of that game. He'd deal with Maddy later.

Miles wasn't sure how long he'd been asleep, but it hadn't been very long—they were still in Nevada. The music in his headphones had stopped, but rather than give away his wakefulness, Miles sat still and stared at the desert passing in the window. Goodman was driving and Miles was angled in such a way in the seat next to him, Miles was sure the detective wouldn't notice if he was awake or not.

There was laughter in the passenger seats directly behind them. Miles' brow furrowed despite his lack of audience.

"I miss them good 'ol days…" Marshall was saying.

"Miss busting your hump with the 'Cough-up Queen'?" Goodman said.

"Hey," Marshall said, "She's all-right in my book."

"Until she brings you the wrong lunchbox again?" This was Prince speaking.

"Jake, you should just leave her alone," Goodman said.

"Look," Marshall said, "I don't make her do anything. She's the one that thinks she's gonna spy on the damn lawyers. Two years ain't shit happening over there."

"I don't know why the two of you won't just move on," Goodman said, "What's done is done."

"T'ain't," Marshall muttered, his voice lowered with a simmering anger, "Not until I know what happened to him."

"Well," Goodman said, "Maybe you should make friends with Edgeworth—he seems awful friendly with the Chief."

"Edgeworth—" Marshall said his name like a curse.

"Hey, is he asleep?" Prince interrupted.

"Yeah," Goodman said, "He hasn't moved in half an hour."

"He's as slimy as Von Karma," Marshall said and he kicked the back of Miles' chair, "Hey Edgeworth! Wake up puppy!"

Miles sat up and shifted in his chair he crossed his arms and sniffed. This was going to be the longest five hours of his life.

"Are we there yet?" he said and Goodman smiled at him.

"Hey Edgeworth!" Marshall said and gave the chair another kick, "You can't be goin' around kissin' Miss Lana Skye. You don't know what you're messin' with."

Miles put a hand over his face and sunk down in his seat. This was bound to happen on this trip. He just wished it hadn't begun so soon.

"I didn't know you liked kissin' girls Edgeworth," Marshall continued, "I always thought you was queer'er than two guys fu—"

"Jake," Goodman said, "Leave him alone."

"Why?" Marshall said, "'cuz he's High Prosecutor? I don't give a shit. You can't bust me down anymore than I been busted down already. "Y'hear me you little shit? I don't care what you do."

Miles cleared his throat, "Thank you for being up front with me, Officer Marshall."

"Yer welcome," Marshall said.

"What just happened?" Prince said.

"Sometimes you just don't ask, buddy," Goodman said.

"Bruce," Marshall said, "Please turn on the radio."

"Where's your guitar?" Goodman said.

"I hate you," Marshall said.

The van quieted down after that save for the muffled conversation of the marshals in the back seat. Miles stared at the desert scrub whizzing past and absently fumbled with the cuff on his jacket.

"Don't mind him too much, Edgeworth," Goodman said, "We couldn't stop him raiding the mini bar after breakfast. It'll wear off soon."

Edgeworth raised an eyebrow and glanced at Goodman, "Maybe he should get help?"

Goodman opened his mouth as if to reply and glanced behind him before leaning toward Miles, "He and Lana used to date."

Miles shrugged, "Hmm... And that is apropos of what exactly…?"

Marshall let out a snore from the back seat. "He said he saw you kissing her in the hotel," Prince chimed in.

Goodman grinned, "Twice."

"Are we in high school?" Miles said derisively.

"We were just having a little fun," Prince said, "Jake's been going crazy about it since this morning. Just something to bust his balls about back at the precinct."

Miles frowned, "I would hope you'd show a little more discretion."

"Aren't you glad you came with us?" Prince said, "Can you imagine how much worse it would've been if you weren't in here?"

Miles groaned and crossed his arms, "I still don't follow…"

"What are you trying to follow?" Goodman said.

Miles made an exasperated noise and turned his attention back to the window. Goodman was eyeing him sidelong while Prince started laughing.

"Jake was always saying that you were fruity and fru-fru and all kinds of stuff like that—and then you made out with the Chief Prosecutor. Man, he was so mad," Prince said.

Miles gnashed his teeth. Goodman offered a sympathetic glance—at least he had the decency not to laugh at him. Miles could feel his ears grow hot.

"Hey Prince," Goodman said, "How about you tone it down back there. We still have over three hours to go. Better keep the peace—right?"

Prince mumbled a reply and he slumped in his seat looking slightly abashed. Miles straightened in his seat and looked at Goodman, "Thank you."

"Sorry Edgeworth," Goodman replied without turning from the road, "He was just goofing around—he didn't mean anything by it."

Miles shrugged, "I'm worried about what they'll say over in criminal affairs—I think Officer Marshall has the wrong idea."

"I'll quash that, don't worry," Goodman said.

"Nothing happened really," Miles continued, "I suppose I was put off by the elevator."

"I don't remember," Goodman said, "and the other guys will forget soon enough."

Miles fidgeted in his seat and hesitated before he said, "I always thought Officer Marshall just had a chip on his shoulder—but it really seems he just doesn't like me."

Goodman didn't reply immediately. Miles sighed and slumped down in his chair.

"You're Von Karma's protégé, no one really likes you," Goodman said, "Except Gumshoe…"

Miles smirked, "Oh well… I do appreciate the honesty."

"Your welcome," Goodman said. Neither of them spoke for several long minutes and the silence spread awkwardly throughout the vehicle. Miles looked behind him to see Prince slumped against the window and Marshall slumped onto him. The marshals in the back with the detainee were also silent.

"I think you're alright, Edgeworth," Goodman said finally. Miles looked over at him, startled at the break in the quiet. He didn't know what to say to that.

"Um… thank you?" Miles said after a moment.

Goodman chuckled, "You want to know why Marshall hates you?"

"Probably SL-9," Miles said without skipping a beat.

"Um yeah," Goodman said, "You do pay attention…"

"Always," Miles said.

"He just wants to know what really happened," Goodman said and he glanced at Miles expectantly.

Miles shrugged, "I inherited that trial at the last minute—I never really spent too much time with the investigation. Plus everyone involved were cops—I wasn't about to get in the middle of that."

"Yeah but," Goodman said, "What about justice?"

"A known killer was convicted," Miles said, "That was justice… As for the truth? I don't know…"

"But if you had a chance to learn the whole truth, wouldn't you take it? Especially for the sake of everyone involved."

Miles didn't answer and stared fixedly at the road ahead of them instead. Eventually, Goodman looked over to see if he was still awake. Finally, Miles turned to look at Goodman directly.

"Yes," Miles said, "Truth is much more important… But I'll admit I didn't feel that way back then."

Goodman chuckled, "Back then… It was only a couple years ago."

"You know what I mean," Miles said, "SL-9 is over, why stir up more troubles."

"You could've said the same thing about DL-6," Goodman said.

Miles clenched his teeth for a moment—he figured he knew what Goodman was trying to do. Miles let out a breath and leaned back in his chair hands behind his head.

"It's all ancient history," he said blandly.

Detective Goodman only smiled.

"Stop it!" Miles was on the floor with his butt in the air and his arms wrapped around his head, "STOP!"

Franziska didn't stop hitting him. Miles was forced to do something he didn't want to do—he slid forward and tackled his little sister. She screamed in retaliation. Miles covered her mouth with his hand and she bit him.

"Ow!"

"No fair! You're bigger than me!"

"I told you to stop hitting me with that-!"

Somehow she managed to twist onto her back and she placed both stockinged legs, each ending in a polished strappy dress shoe and shoved Miles hard—right in his solar plexus. He fell back hard gasping and clutching at his stomach. Franziska didn't wait for him to recover.

Instead she jumped on him again whacked him in the face with her riding crop. Miles still hadn't caught his breath, but he managed to throw his arms up to block her blows. As he regained his bearing he started sliding backward until he hit a wall. Using the wall for leverage he sat up, startling the little girl. Miles grabbed her by her wrists and glared at her.

Franziska started laughing at him.

"Look! Ha ha! Your face is so red!"

Miles got so angry he started to tremble. He let go of her to grab the riding crop instead. She let out a frightening wail. Miles almost gave it back to her—almost.

"Will you just stop!" He said looking down at her, she was looking at the riding crop in his hand.

"I'm not giving this back to you."

"Miiiiiiiilllesss! It's mine!" she screamed up at him.

"No!" Miles stepped back from her raised it up above his head.

Then Mister Von Karma stepped into the room. Franziska grinned wickedly at Miles while Miles met the old man's glare.

"What is wrong with you? Why do you have to make so much noise!?"

Miles took a step back and stood stiffly, he was so frightened he dropped the crop. Franziska snatched it up immediately and ran toward her father. She made gloating faces at him. Mister Von Karma stared at him for what seemed an eternity, Miles was afraid to breathe. Miles wanted to protest, he wanted to shout at him, to tell him that it was Franziska that instigated this. Mister Von Karma always took her side.

Miles shut his eyes—he didn't want to die. Surely that's what he deserved for fighting with a five-year-old. He started to tremble, and he closed his fists to hide his shaking hands. He just hoped it was over with quickly.

"Papa, no!"

Miles opened his eyes in surprise. Mister Von Karma had taken the riding crop away from her.

"Go to your room, Franziska Von Karma!"

"I don't want to!"

Mister Von Karma smacked her on the butt with the crop, "Go to your room! Nice little girls don't fight with their brothers."

Miles still hadn't moved from where he'd been standing. The old man turned his icy glare toward him.

"Come, Edgeworth," and he turned to leave the room. Miles followed him cautiously and at a distance. When Mister Von Karma entered the nearest bathroom, Miles hesitated before entering.

"Miles Edgeworth," Mister Von Karma said, "Explain yourself."

"I didn't do anything to her!" Miles blurted out, he closed his eyes and waited for the worst.

Instead a hand landed on his shoulder and he could feel the man's presence grow nearer.

"She really did a number on you," Mister Von Karma said, and he chuckled a little.

He put his hands under Miles' arms and lifted him to set him on the counter. Miles' eyes popped open in surprise.

Mister Von Karma was rummaging in the medicine cabinet for ointment, he paused and looked at Miles.

"You should see your face," he said and closed the cabinet so Miles could look in the mirror. His face and ears were still red and his hair was mussed and standing in some places. But worst of all were all the welts on his face and neck—some of them bleeding.

Mister Von Karma took him by the chin and turned his head. He started to put ointment on Miles' face. The action was not tender, and Mister Von Karma was not very gentle—but it was the nicest thing the old man had done for him in the three years Miles had lived with them.

"You know, I appreciate your sense of chivalry," Mister Von Karma said, "it isn't very civilized to hit girls, especially when their half one's age."

Miles didn't say anything and after a moment, Mister Von Karma continued, "She'll be better when she learns reason. Now get back to your studies."

Miles slid off the counter and all but ran back to his books.

Miles left the courthouse hours after they'd arrived. He climbed the stairs to his flat with the slow deliberate steps of a zombie, drive weary, sleep deprived and generally exhausted—all while the nagging feeling he'd forgotten something played with his concentration. Miles paused to catch his breath—he'd only made it to the third floor landing.

"I should just take the elevator," he said aloud into the stairwell. He thought about it seriously for a moment before trudging the rest of the way to his floor.

He dropped his things inside the door to the flat and saw Franziska sitting in the living room.

"Franziska," he said, "I forgot to pick you up."

She stared at him disdainfully. He didn't seem to notice and after a pause to greet Wellington, he started toward his room.

"Miles Edgeworth," Franziska said, "Don't you think you should greet me properly?"

Miles looked at her quizzically, "Hello? Good afternoon, how are you?"

"I'm well, little brother," she said, "Do sit with me and tell me about your trip."

"I really want to get some sleep," Miles protested, but he was already walking toward her. He dropped himself heavily beside her on the divan. She was frowning at him.

"Lana Skye got in this morning," Franziska said, "Where have you been?"

"I had to file paperwork at the court," Miles said and paused to stifle a yawn, "and I drove in from Nevada."

Franziska waved a hand dismissively at him, "Well, I visited Papa today. They're going to move him in the next three days—they won't tell me when precisely."

Miles frowned.

"You need to visit him Miles," she said, "before it's too late."

"Too late for what?" He rubbed the back of his neck and then hunched forward with his elbows on his knees, "I have a case going to trial, he can wait. He won't be going anywhere once they transfer him."

"Miles you promised you would!" She said, "You said when you got back from Las Vegas you'd take some personal time—"

"Franziska," Miles said and stood up. He swayed a little.

"You promised," she repeated.

Miles sat back down and looked at Franziska. He wasn't even sure where to begin.

"He wants to see you," she said quietly and looked at her hands, she was still clutching her riding crop.

Miles looked down at the floor and said, "I don't want to see him."

Franziska's grip tightened on the riding crop but she said nothing. She only fumed silently beside him. He rubbed his palms together, surprised and pleased with Franziska's self control. He cleared his throat to speak but found he had nothing else to say on the matter. They sat quietly together for several minutes before she turned to him.

"Miles, please?"

Miles replied with a slight glance at her before leaning back on the couch. He started to undo his cravat. Franziska's stare was boring into him. Miles shook his head.

"But Miles you—"

"Franziska," he said, "You're making me crazy."

She made a frustrated noise—something like a growl and a sigh. Then she jabbed him hard in the ribs with the handle of her riding crop.

Miles only paused for a moment and then continued with the cravat—mouth set and brow furrowed, "Ow," was all he said.

"Miles you haven't done anything with me since I got here! And Papa is struggling with his appeal and you wont help! You're the worst kind of person! I hate—"

Miles was glaring at the floor now, twisting the white cloth of his cravat in his hands.

"—being here! All you're doing is making me miserable! I'm so much better than you when—"

"Franziska…"

"I hate you!"

"I'm not very fond of you right now either," Miles said.

Franziska screamed and jumped up from the divan. She glared at him and Miles met her eyes—her Von Karma eyes—with some trepidation. Her lip curled slightly. He slowly leaned back from where he was sitting—he had a feeling like he'd poked the tiger too much. Miles was completely shocked when she swung that riding crop and hit him across his cheek. She didn't pause to let him get his bearings, but whacked him again and again with that riding crop. Miles leapt to his feet, fuming.

"Stop it!" He shouted at her. Franziska started to back away from him, but she didn't stop hitting him.

Miles rushed at her and hugged her tightly, pinning her arms to her sides. He lifted her inelegantly and she started to kick her legs about frantically. Miles moved awkwardly toward the guest room with his struggling captive.

"Put me down!" Her shout was shrill and too close to his ears.

Miles shifted his hold on her and trudged into the guest room and dropped her onto the bed. She glared up at him breathing hard from their exchange.

"I ought to lock this door," Miles said.

"You wouldn't dare," Franziska said.

"Don't push me," Miles paused and held out his hand, "Give me that thing."

"No," she said, and put her riding crop behind her back, "If you want it you'll have to take it from me."

Miles made a face at her and leaned forward to make a grab for the riding crop. Franziska managed to pop back up on her knees and she reached toward him. Then she threw her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his mouth. Miles was too shocked to move. He couldn't fight her; he only stood where he was, as wooden as a puppet. When Franziska pulled away from him, both of them were breathing hard and he stared into those icy blue eyes, still puzzled at their exchange. Miles stood up and backed away a few steps. He stared at her like she was an alien creature, some thing that had invaded his home. What just happened?

Franziska was staring up at him, her eyes wide and her mouth slightly open. She really was a beautiful—no! Oh hell no! She's my sister… Miles blinked and took another step back.

They glared at each other for several long moments. Finally, Franziska broke their stare and she sat up waving her riding crop at him and grinning with unabashed triumph. Miles' eyebrows twitched and he continued to glare mutely at her. Franziska laughed, "You'd never dare…"

Miles turned his head for a moment to pause and think. Then he leaned into her and she fell back onto the bed, their faces never separating. Miles put his hands on her arms sliding slowly up toward her hands. Franziska groaned beneath him. Miles grabbed the riding crop and abruptly he broke away from her and backed off.

"Miles Edgeworth!" Franziska said and she sat up to look at him.

Miles didn't know what to say—everything felt so wrong… But in a good way—no! He was not going to think about his little sister that way.

"Miles," she said still staring at him, desperation started to creep into her voice.

Miles gritted his teeth and took a few more steps away from her. He held up the riding crop. Franziska seemed to snap out of her reverie and the sweet desperation in those pale blue eyes froze over as she fixed her gaze on her prized riding crop.

"You're an asshole, Miles Edgeworth," she said stonily.

He glared angrily at her and lifted the riding crop over his head and she flinched.

"I should hit you with this," he said through clenched teeth.

"You wouldn't," she said, her voice suddenly tenuous and fearful.

He relaxed his stance and she sat up a little more. He shook his head and held the riding crop in his hand. Franziska sat up a little straighter, suddenly hopeful. Miles swallowed and then snapped the riding crop with his other hand.

"Miles! Why would you—!" she screamed.

"I warned you last time not to hit me with it" He replied coldly. He turned and walked out of the room without waiting for her reply.

A/N: Thanks for Reading!

Lots of Edgeworth abuse… but in the end who abuses who….?

Soooooo…. It's been a VERY long time and I am immensely sorry to both of the people that read this story (besides myself). I was reading through the early stuff and I'm kind of sad about all the errors, inconsistencies, and bad grammar—I don't know if I should rewrite the whole thing or press on till the end…. Let's just press on to the end…

Oh, by the way, this chapter is dedicated to you. Sorry it took so long.

UPDATED 9Jul2015-only nineteen more chapters to revise then we'll press on to the end... (I want to know what happens too—just kidding!)