Chapter 34

Cornered

"Don't worry," Papa said and slapped little brother on the shoulder, "This doesn't take long and it's painless."

"Papa," Franziska said, "Can I get a new dress?"

"Franziska, you had a dress made last week, while Miles has out grown everything he owns. Not only that, how can I bring him with me to court when he doesn't have a proper suit?"

"Oh fine!" Franziska said.

The three of them entered the tailor shop without a word. Miles walked behind her and Papa and he looked sort of upset.

"Manfred! Is that you?" he was a stocky man with large ears and a very round stomach.

"Ernesto?" Papa was grinning when they clasped hands. The two of them moved off to the side and began catching up with each other. Franziska stared at them for several moments and then looked up at Miles. He had his arms wrapped around his middle and he was staring at the floor a little morose.

"Miles," Franziska hissed at him.

He looked at her but said nothing.

"Who is that guy?"

"He's friends with Mister Von Karma, he visited for your birthday a few years ago. Don't you remember?"

She replied with an impatient click and turned away from him. Papa and that guy were still talking amongst themselves. The guy talked with an excited cadence to his voice. It rose and fell whenever his emotion changed. Papa's voice was a calm and steady drone—still she couldn't recall Papa speaking in such an unguarded manner.

She sensed Miles move behind her, his nervousness was palpable and seemed to hang heavily in the air around him. Franziska rolled her eyes at him while he continued to stare at the floor.

After several minutes of muffled conversation, that Ernesto guy asked about 'the kids' loudly enough that she looked toward them and Miles wrapped his skinny arms more tightly around his body.

One look from Papa signaled her to come forward—she had to tug Miles along to get him to follow.

"Franziska," Papa was telling that guy, "She's seven now, and she's taking lessons at a prestigious girls school and also beginning her private lessons in the law. You remember Miles Edgeworth, Ernie?"

That guy was smiling at her politely, but he grinned when he looked at Miles, "My goodness, you've grown quite tall… But, Manfred, are you feeding the boy? All I see are arms and legs—ha ha!"

Franziska saw Miles' face turn very red and she looked at that guy with a frown. Her frown deepened when Papa put an arm around Miles' shoulders and grinned, as if Miles' was his son.

"He's at that age—you know, all he does is grow taller," Papa told Ernesto.

"Well, Miles," Ernesto said, "How go your studies?"

"Very well Mister Armano," Miles said, with obvious difficulty, "Mister Von Karma and I are going to Oxford in a few weeks."

"Oxford, Manfred?" Mister Armano said, "How are you—?"

"Don't worry about us, friend," Manfred said, "The boy's managed to make quite an impression on one of the Fellows at Exeter. We've been invited for a few days stay."

"Impressive," Mister Armano said to Miles. Franziska frowned and slapped her hand with her riding crop.

"You know little Franzy, Lance was asking about you," Ernesto said.

"Why?"

Papa and Mister Armano laughed. "You two are of like age, you should be friends."

"Hmph," Franziska said, "I don't need to make friends with little boys."

Mister Armano laughed again but Papa shot her a dark look.

"Lance is older than you," Mister Armano said.

Franziska glared and swung her arm back to tap Miles with her crop. He flinched violently and stepped back, "My little brother is older than Lance—and he isn't a chubby little—"

"That's enough, Franziska," Papa said.

Mister Armano smiled politely, "Well, I should let you get back to your business. Always a pleasure, Manfred."

"Perhaps I'll call—when we return from England," Manfred said.

"I look forward to it," Mister Armano said, "Take care, Miles—Franziska."

After Mister Armano left them Papa pulled Miles forward so they could walk side by side. He didn't even turn to look at her, "Come along Franziska."

The door was unlocked this morning. He must've opened it to let the dog out and forgot to lock it. Franziska smirked—Miles could be so lazy sometimes. Dawn was breaking—why was he still in bed? She pushed through the door and let herself in.

"Guten Morgen!" She shouted looking around his room.

"What?" She heard his voice, but he was nowhere in sight.

"Miles?"

"You might have knocked at the very least," he said.

"Where…? Are you under the bed?"

"No," he said.

Franziska leaned over the expanse of bed only to see his shadow moving on the wall. She climbed up on his bed and crawled over to see what he was doing.

"Miles!" she laughed, "Miles Edgeworth are you working out in your room?"

"Go away," he said.

"Is that your secret?" she laughed.

He paused mid crunch and glared up at her. Then he went back to his exercises.

"You shouldn't be in here," he said under his breath.

Franziska just laughed again, "Are you doing it to get a girlfriend?"

Miles stopped and sat up. He was blushing and frowning at the same time. She couldn't stop laughing. Miles was always so sensitive about everything.

"I wish you hadn't come in here," he said and stood.

"Then you should have got up earlier," she said.

He had a t-shirt on above his pink pajama bottoms and was putting the top of his pajamas back on with jerky angry movements. She sat up in the bed and giggled at him.

"You don't have to be rude either," he said as he turned toward the bathroom.

"Miles Edgeworth, are you trying to avoid me?"

Miles shot a glare at her and entered the bathroom.

"You should take off your shirt and let me see," She teased.

"No," he said, "Stop being strange," He slammed the bathroom door.

"Miles!" Franziska said and she slid off the bed and walked toward the bathroom, "You said you'd take me somewhere today!"

"I said no such thing," his voice returned muffled through the door. She heard the shower turn on—he used to do that so he could pretend he couldn't hear her.

Franziska glared at the door and clenched her fists.

"Don't take too long, I want to do something fun—since it's my last day here."

No reply.

She turned and stormed out of his room.

At least Mrs. Kucharka had breakfast ready. Toast and pastries and cheese and roasted tomatoes on the sideboard. Franziska poured hot water into the teapot and set it aside before taking a seat at the table.

She sat, staring at the few tendrils of steam that escaped from the teapot. She couldn't wait to go home—until today. She was flying out tomorrow—who knew when she'd see Miles or her father again? She leaned forward and adjusted the silverware at the place setting in front of her. No, she thought, it would be good to go home. She could get a few more trials under her belt—maybe show her little brother how to win again.

Franziska picked up her napkin and spread it across her lap, taking a few moments longer to smooth it out. She reached forward and took the teapot and poured herself a cup. At least, if she was at home, she would have an excuse to take her breakfast alone—Miles was proving to be a rather inattentive host.

She was sipping at her second cup of tea when he walked in reading the newspaper. His hair was still wet and he had most of it slicked back and out of his face. Miles was wearing a sweater vest over an un-tucked dress shirt and gray slacks.

"Miles why are you wearing that stupid sweater?"

He stopped beside her seat and looked at her, "I felt like it," he said, and folded the paper sloppily and handed it to her before continuing to his own seat at the table.

"It's supposed to get warm today," she said.

"I know," he grumbled, "I can't wait for that dratted marmot to see his shadow so we can enjoy a few more weeks of winter…"

Franziska laughed, "What?"

He shook his head, "Never mind."

"I like it when the Spring comes," she said wistfully.

"Hmph," Miles said standing to reach for the teapot, "I don't."

"Because of your stuffy little nose?" she laughed.

He glared at her for a moment before standing to serve himself from the sideboard. He refused to speak to her anymore. He ate quickly and left the table looking a little disgruntled. Franziska frowned. He must be angry about their visit. Miles was so awkward.

She took her time at the table and when she finished she went through the drawing room and peered into his library. He was going through several files in a drawer in his desk, and checking them against a sheet of paper.

"What are you doing?"

"They sent out the memo in regard to Evidence Transferral this year. I thought I'd get a head start and pull the cases I'm responsible for."

"So… I'm not sure what you're talking about—but it sounds like you're working. You said you weren't going to work today."

Miles frowned at her, "I'm not—this will only take a minute."

Franziska made a noise. Miles' phone rang.

"Edgeworth," he said, "oh… What a… um… surprise…"

Franziska tried to glare him down so he'd stop—just for one day. He refused to look at her while he was on the phone.

"Actually, I have those files here. Perhaps we can meet later and go over them… No, I can't do that."

"Are you serious?" Franziska spat at him. Is he really planning a meeting today?

"I'll get a message to Detective Gumshoe—it'll probably be around lunchtime… Okay, sounds good… Right, okay… Bye."

"Don't whine at me when I'm on the phone," he said after he'd ended the call.

"I wasn't—"

"What do you want to do today?"

"I don't know. I just wanted to spend time—"

"Sure," Miles interrupted, "We'll be together… Do you want to play a round of golf? It's a weekday, so there won't be very many people at the club. We'd have the whole place pretty much to ourselves."

"Eww, Miles!" Franziska said wrinkling her nose, "Why do you like to do old man stuff?"

"Why is golf an 'old man' thing?" Miles retorted, "If you don't want to do that, then what's your suggestion?"

"Let's go to the beach!"

"Um," he gave her a bland look, "No."

"Oh why not? It's pretty warm today," Franziska grinned, "Please, Miles?"

Miles looked horrified all of a sudden, "I can't."

"Why?"

"Because the only sunscreen I have is only SPF 50 and no one sells SPF 95 until after Memorial Day. I just might get sunburned."

"Miles, it won't be a bad sunburn—it's still technically winter… The sun isn't that strong yet."

"You say that until I do get sunburned and then I'll get cancer and die. Is that what you really want?"

"Miles what are you? Seven? Don't be foolish."

"I don't want to go to the beach, I want to hit golf balls. We don't even have to play, we could just go to the range and hit balls. I'm pretty sure all of my drivers are too long for you, but you can use a wood—just to practice your swing."

"You lost me at the part about the range," she said.

"What about—you're a girl—I'm sure you like spa stuff…"

"Will you come with me?"

"Franziska, while I'm not usually bothered by what's considered proper based on the gender roles we've grown up with, I do have to draw the line somewhere…"

"It's not gay to go and pamper your body a bit—in fact I think it's kind of sexy that a guy would go to a spa with his girlfriend."

"Well see? There's another reason I shouldn't go with you."

"Miles!"

"But there's a spa in the same campus as the country club—I can play golf and you can get…um… exfoliated."

"What?"

"Then afterward we'll come here and get dressed up and have a nice dinner somewhere…"

"Oh really?"

"I think that's quite in order," Miles smiled at her.

"Can I bring my friends?"

"Ah… no…"

"What if they just come to the spa with me?"

Miles groaned, "I suppose that might be more enjoyable for you."

"Oh Miles! This is going to be awesome!"

"Yay…" Miles said, very unenthused.

Franziska turned over in that little bed—she hated this room. Usually Heidi let her share her bed—but that Eddie person was staying with her. Franziska sat up and turned her pillow over. She paused to peer at her little brother. He was silent on the floor in a borrowed sleeping bag.

"Miles," she hissed into the darkness. He didn't respond so she climbed out of the blankets and crawled over the bed to look at him closely. He was sleeping peacefully for a change. She stayed there perched on the edge of the bed watching her little brother sleep, jealous of the soft steady sound of his breathing.

She groaned and crawled back toward the head of the bed and wiggled ungracefully into the covers. She glared at the shadows the moon cast on the ceiling and pouted. No one would see her in the dark, not like that.

She missed Papa—wanted him; because it was obvious Heidi liked Miles more than she liked her. Now that Eddie was here it was weirder visiting than it had been. Eddie liked Miles too—because Miles was a boy and he liked stupid boy things. Franziska was a lady; she didn't need to come all the way out here just to play house with her big sister and her stupid Eddie.

The heat rose in her cheeks and she stared hard at the ceiling—why did Papa send them away? And why Heidi? Why wouldn't he let her see her mother? Franziska couldn't remember just how long it had been since she'd last seen her mother—she couldn't remember her face. Miles gasped in his sleep and Franziska sat up again.

"Miles," she hissed. No response.

What was Heidi thinking? Miles always had nightmares. How can anyone sleep in the same room as him? Why else would Papa make him sleep on the other side of the house?

She leaned forward and eventually climbed back out of the blankets again and crawled over to look at her little brother. He kicked at the covers and he turned his head in quick, jerky movements. He whimpered softly into his pillow.

"Miles!" she said into the dark again.

"Daddy…" Miles said plaintively. He'd wake up soon—Miles always frightened himself awake. Franziska stared at him—she'd seen him in the throes of his terrors before—but it was fascinating. Like a train wreck. She just couldn't turn her head away.

"No… please don't…" he mumbled so mournfully it made her frown.

Franziska turned so that her legs were out in front of her and slid off of the bed. She knelt beside Miles' head.

"Miles'," she whispered again and she put a small hand against the back of his head, "Brüderchen…"

He kicked against the sleeping bag and he struck at his own face and head with his fists. Franziska grabbed one of his arms and tugged at it with all of her might. He pulled back and she fell over him. Miles gasped and she pushed herself up to find him staring at her.

"Franzis—"

"You were dreaming, little brother," she said.

"Did I wake you? I'm so sorry, Franziska," He said and he turned himself over and sat up.

"It's okay, Brüderchen… You can't help if you cry in your sleep like a little baby."

Miles stared at her for a moment and then rubbed his eyes. He pulled his knees up with the sleeping bag still wrapped around them.

"Miles," Franziska said, "I can't sleep."

"I'm sorry," he said.

"I don't like that bed," she whined.

"What's wrong with it?"

"It's too big and cold," she said.

He frowned at her, "It not so big as your own bed at home."

Franziska grabbed his hand, "Miles please, tuck me in."

He stood and shoved out of the sleeping bag, "Come on, then."

"No," Franziska said, "Pick me up."

At twelve, Miles wasn't very much bigger than her, but he bent to let her wrap her arms around his neck and put a hand on her back and under her legs and put her on the bed. He pulled the covers back so she could crawl back under them and when she was comfortable he pulled them up under her chin.

"Is that better?" Miles said and he looked down at her from where he stood. The moon reflected in the dark pools of his eyes and picked out highlights in his sleep-tousled hair.

"You should sleep here too," Franziska said, "So you can feel safe, and then you won't have to cry."

Miles stared at her; a frown dragged down the corners of his mouth.

"Please, Miles?"

Miles surprised her by climbing into the bed and sliding into the covers beside her.

Franziska took his hand under the covers and he squeezed back. She snuggled against him and he held her until she drifted off to sleep.

He came in hours late, wearing a raincoat over his golf shirt and shorts. He had his head down and his shoulders hunched and his hair was tousled a bit.

"Miles Edgewor—"

"Please," he said, his voice dangerously low, "Just leave me alone."

She was shocked and it was all she could do to stare mutely at him as he disappeared into the back of the flat. When she snapped out of it she stomped toward his room and followed him in. But he wasn't there—then she noticed the shower was going and the black raincoat he'd been wearing was tossed onto the bed.

"Where have you been? Were you at work this whole time?!"

Nothing—just the rushing of water from the shower.

"And you couldn't even call? I was waiting! I've been waiting!"

Still no answer.

"I'm leaving tomorrow and you couldn't be bothered to take me out to dinner!" she banged her fists on the door. "You're a liar, Miles Edgeworth! I hate you!"

It hurt. He'd been so convincing in his promises earlier. Instead he went to the office and stayed—for over five hours! It was like she didn't matter to him at all. Why was he like this to her?

Franziska stomped huffily out of his room. She went straight into the guest room she'd been using. All of her bags were packed and ready—a reminder of the latest lost opportunity. Of the cruelty Miles had inherited from her father. They never had time for her—never. Then Papa was thrown in prison. Now she was flying back to Germany.

Franziska threw herself onto the bed and fell into a fit of angry, resentful tears. She didn't pay attention to how long it went on. But the longer it went the more she remembered all the times Miles told her 'tomorrow' and 'maybe later' or 'I'll make time, I promise.' He was so mean to her—so condescending. He had no right to treat her like that—no right!

The anger was starting to dissipate and the tears were starting to slow when Mrs. Kucharka came in with a mug on a tray. The cook sat beside her on the bed and put a hand on her back. Franziska sat up beside her but kept her head turned away. The tears stopped, but her breathing was still interrupted by sobs. Mrs. Kucharka said nothing. In a way, that seemed better than having to explain all of it to a stranger.

"Thank you," Franziska mumbled when the woman offered the mug—spiced red tea.

The two of them were still sitting quietly when Wellington poked his head into the doorway.

"Begging your pardon," he said, "But do you know what happened?"

Franziska glared at him—she didn't feel like talking to him. Mrs. Kucharka shook her head innocently.

"I should go check on him," and he was gone. Mrs. Kucharka took her hand and gave it a squeeze.

"Why do you crying?"

"Nothing… No reason," Franziska said. She took another draught from the mug.

"My brother is a very mean person," she said suddenly, "He promised he would take me to dinner somewhere nice—because I'm leaving tomorrow. But instead he went to his office and stayed there."

"He was working?"

"Yeah," Franziska said, "But he wasn't—he didn't have to. He had no reason to stay there."

She shook her head—not wanting to dive back into crying. Not while Mrs. Kucharka was sitting there.

"NO IT ISN'T!"

Both of them looked toward the door at the shout. It sounded like Miles—but Franziska had never heard him shout quite so loudly. Neither of them made a move to stand. There was the sound of cabinets being opened and slammed shut and a muffled argument in the corridor that led to the back room.

"Miles! Come with me now!" Wellington's voice rose. More shuffling with the added click and jingle of Pess. The sound of the front door opening and then closing. Complete silence.

Franziska hesitated and then stood to look out into the drawing room toward the entryway. A moment later, Mrs. Kucharka was with her. They walked toward the front door together. There was nothing there; no sign of anything—Franziska gasped and put a hand over her mouth.

"Is that… Blood?"

Mrs. Kucharka bent down to peer at the dark drop on the wooden floor. She gasped and covered her mouth too. Franziska ignored her and turned to run toward the back room.

She pushed the door open with trepidation, but upon entering and turning on the light—there didn't seem to be anything amiss in his room. The light in the bathroom was still on and she went to that door and pushed it open. Franziska almost screamed.

There was blood on the sink and a few drops on the floor. Water was puddled in a few small areas outside the shower door. The water was tinged pink. Franziska could feel tears welling up again.

The floor was covered in shards of glass—there was glass everywhere—and she looked up and noticed that the large mirror above the sink was shattered. Completely shattered—he must've hit it several times with whatever he was using to smash the mirror. From the amount of blood in the room, it seemed he'd used his bare hands.

"Miles Edgeworth… what?"

She was sitting on the divan in the drawing room, arms crossed, and rocking slightly. She was still reeling from what she'd seen in Miles' bathroom. She didn't want to admit it to herself, but she was very frightened.

She jumped a little when the front door opened and Pess pushed her way in ahead of Miles and Wellington. Pess ran directly to her and started to lick her hands and knees emphatically. Franziska could only stare at Miles, inside she warred with feelings of deep relief and shattering betrayal. He didn't look at her, but he left Wellington to join her on the divan.

He stared off toward some unknown thing. His robe was pulled close around him, but she could see the stark white bandages on his hands. In a few places he was starting to bleed through them. And he just sat there. All she could do was stare at him. The drawn profile with hair nearly obscuring his eyes. Miles' nose was straight and fine. He didn't say anything.

It felt like hours had gone by with the two of them wrapped up in an uncomfortable and heavy silence. Franziska couldn't take much more of this. When she was certain she could speak without losing it emotionally, she sat up a little and turned directly toward her brother.

"Miles," she said, "What happened?"

He didn't turn to look at her, but after a moment's hesitation, he cleared his throat, "The mirror in my bathroom broke."

"Did you break it?"

He nodded solemnly.

"Why?"

He shook his head. Franziska crossed her arms and her legs huffily and turned her head away from him.

"What were you trying to do?"

No response.

"I think I know, and I'm pretty angry about it."

He swallowed, but said nothing.

"You're a fool, Miles Edgeworth—and an asshole."

He nodded.

"What am I going to do if you hurt yourself—really hurt yourself?"

No response.

"Don't you ever think about anyone besides yourself?"

He said nothing, but he turned his head away from her. Now she could only see his ear and the edge of his jaw.

"You're embarrassed—as well you should be. Stupid little fool…"

They fell back into silence. His reticence was maddening—it made her feel like she was talking to the wall. Miles could talk for hours about stupid things—like samurais or precedents in criminal law; the algebra one encounters in everyday life—but he never seemed eager to talk about himself. Since he was a boy, he was very introverted. Her little brother would have you believe that he was as unfeeling and uncaring as a stone.

He hiccoughed beside her. Franziska frowned at him.

"You scared me, Miles," she said.

"I'm sorry," he said; his voice was husky and he pulled a handkerchief out of the pocket on his robe and blew his nose.

She put a hand on his shoulder and rubbed gently, "Did something happen to you while you were at the office?"

He shook his head.

"Miles, you're not upset because of something Papa said yesterday?"

Miles stared at her for several moments and then he laughed. Franziska exhaled in relief.

"It's getting late," he said and he blew his nose again and stood up. Franziska was shocked when he turned and offered her his hand.

"Are you going to tuck me in?"

He smiled slightly at that, but shook his head.

"Franziska, love…" he blushed a little and refused to meet her eye, "I don't think I… If you would…"

He swallowed and blinked at the floor.

"Miles?"

"I don't think I should be alone tonight…"

A/N: Thanks for Reading!

First flashback from when Miles is 14—you know, when boys really get growth spurting.

Second flashback, Miles is thirteen and Franziska is six/seven.

Franziska's reaction to Miles' reaction to his being threatened by Damon Gant.

I hope this wasn't too weird for anyone—this chapter overlaps the previous chapter in the timeline—the first scene occurred in the morning—the day Gant visited Skye and learned about the memo. Obviously the second scene occurs following Miles' incident at the office—poor Franziska has no clue about it.

Franziska's POV—I should've started this much sooner.

UPDATED 12 JULY2015- Yeah minor edits to remove some unfunny humor and tie this into the major changes in the last chapter.