Chapter 43

Goodbye, Miles Edgeworth

"What's wrong with you?"

Miles didn't want to answer that question. He really wasn't sure of the answer. He didn't really want to know.

Mister Von Karma was wearing his dressing gown over thinly striped pajamas of lavender and cream and a sleeping cap that reminded him of a Santa hat, except Mister Von Karma's hat was blue and not so plush. One might've mistaken him for a kindly old man were it not for the ghastly expression on his face. Miles pressed himself into the wall and hugged himself tight against the old man's wrath.

"Answer me boy!"

Why was he so angry?

Miles stared up at him, eyes wide. His lashes were still wet and his tears were drying in cool sticky streams over his cheeks.

"Edgeworth you will speak when spoken to, boy! You are not a child! I shouldn't have to explain this to you."

"I'm sorry, sir," Miles said. At eleven, he was still small and Mister Von Karma was towering very closely over him.

"What happened?"

"Nothing, sir," Miles said.

"Something happened if I have to hear about this in the middle of the night!"

Miles suddenly wondered who it was. Who told on him?

"It was nothing," Miles said.

"Don't lie! Do you think I'm stupid? Do you think I can't tell if you've been crying?"

"N-no, sir."

"There's no reason for these histrionics! You cry more than my daughter—and she's four!"

Miles was shaking in his slippers and he pushed himself further into the wall; hoping almost that it would swallow him.

"For the last time," Mister Von Karma said, "Idiot boy! Tell me what your problem is!"

Miles turned his gaze toward the floor, "I had a nightmare—it was nothing…"

Mister Von Karma stopped pacing and he smirked, "A nightmare? At your age?"

"I couldn't," Miles looked up at Mister Von Karma again, "I couldn't help it, sir."

"You're not a child, Miles Edgeworth! You can very well help it!"

Miles didn't want to argue with the old man. He swallowed and nodded. He had no idea how to make it stop. It had been nearly two years and they kept coming.

"I don't know how," Miles said.

Mister Von Karma crossed his arms and stared thoughtfully down at him.

"Come with me," he said, his voice was so low Miles had to look at him again to be sure of the order, "We're going to put an end to this, Miles Edgeworth. I will not have you making a poor example in front of my daughter."

Miles followed Mister Von Karma solemnly out of his bedroom. His room was in the guest wing, away from the family rooms. Which meant he occasionally had a neighbor but more often than not he was alone in the immense corridor. It also meant that there was no way Mister Von Karma should have known, except that one of the staff might have reported it to him.

Miles balled up his fists while he walked. He hated it here. He hated the house. He hated the servants. Most especially, he hated Mister Von Karma.

They entered the upstairs study, where he took his lessons with the tutors. Mister Von Karma had him stand in one corner facing the rest of the room. He made Miles hold out his arms and then placed a book in his hands. It was a heavy volume—this one a thick leather-bound history of the Napoleonic Wars complete with a battlefield atlas. Miles felt the weight of it immediately.

Mister Von Karma had retrieved the long wooden pointer the tutors used when directing attention to the chalk board. He poked Miles hard in the ribs.

"Stand up straight," he said and then he whacked him across his backside so that Miles' hips pulled forward bringing his shoulders back in a posture that might've been the envy of the most stoic soldier. He tapped the pointer against Miles' elbows.

"Hold it straight out," Mister Von Karma said and then brought the pointer under Miles' chin, "Head up!"

Then he walked to the large desk in the back of the room near the window, "If you move we will just have to keep this up longer."

Miles could already feel a tremor working it's way up his legs. Mister Von Karma pulled out a book and started to flip through the pages casually while surreptitiously watching Miles. Every once in a while he would ask Miles to straighten his pose.

It didn't take long before it was very uncomfortable, and the minutes dragged by maddeningly slow.

"Tell me," Mister Von Karma said after a time, "What do you dream about, Miles Edgeworth?"

Miles moved his head slightly to look at him directly before returning to the prescribed position. He was shaking visibly. He didn't want to talk about this, and certainly not with Mister Von Karma. He felt the heat of his frustration prickle his ears and warm his cheeks.

Miles wanted to tell him that he didn't remember. That the memories of those evil dreams faded with his waking. But he didn't dare lie to Mister Von Karma.

"I dream about muh-my Dad, sir," Miles said after a few moments of deliberation.

"Your father," Mister Von Karma corrected.

"Yes, sir," Miles said, "about the night that he die-died…"

Just the mention of it brought the sting of fresh tears to his eyes. Miles tried his best to blink them away. He thought he saw the old man look up from his book and stare at him directly.

"Do you?" Mister Von Karma suddenly sounded curious.

Miles wished he could run and hide somewhere. He gave the slightest nod.

Mister Von Karma cocked his head slightly and touched his fingers to his chin he was still looking at Miles, "What happened that night?"

Miles shook his head blinking hard in a futile attempt to stop his tears from spilling over his cheeks. He clenched his teeth to try to hold in his sobs.

"Don't start that again!" Mister Von Karma said and slammed his book closed on the desk. Miles startled and almost dropped the book he was holding.

"Arms straight!" Mister Von Karma said and stood. Miles tried his best to comply, but he was shaking uncontrollably now. Mister Von Karma walked up to him.

"What—do you remember what happened?" The old man said.

"N-no…" Miles said.

Mister Von Karma leaned in toward him staring. Studying his face.

"Nothing at all?"

Miles shook his head, "No sir."

Mister Von Karma watched him for several moments more, standing uncomfortably close. Between the emotions he was trying desperately to suppress and the weight of the book in his outstretched arms, it was becoming difficult for Miles to breathe.

"What would your father think if he saw you like this? Trembling and blubbering like a little child?"

Miles shook his head. He didn't want to think about that. He was so very ashamed.

"I'm sorry…" Miles said. His voice came out thin and broken.

He wished this would stop. Please, somebody, make it stop.

Mister Von Karma started to laugh, "He's lucky he never lived to see what a weak and sniveling little fool his son is."

"I'm sorry," Miles repeated.

If there ever was a time he was more miserable, Miles couldn't remember. Suddenly Mister Von Karma took the book out of his hands and gave him a good solid whack on the back of the head with it.

"Get out of here, I'm disgusted by this," Mister Von Karma said, "Clean yourself up and go back to bed. I will not hear of this again!"

Miles put a hand back where he'd been struck but he nodded and left. He all but ran back to his room. The door didn't lock so he went to the bathroom and locked the door behind him and leaned against it. Trying to calm everything he was feeling. He inhaled several gulping breaths that were broken only by his sobs. He stood there for several moments. His knees shook and his shoulders were starting to ache.

He turned on the sink. The sound was a small comfort, maybe it would drown out his crying. Miles looked up and was startled by the unhappy boy in the mirror that stared back. His eyes were rimmed red and bloodshot from crying. He had dark circles under his eyes; eyes that seemed too large for his face. Miles barely recognized that boy anymore.

"Please, sit down," she said trying to sound nonchalant. But he knew what was coming. She needn't be so formal about this otherwise.

"How are you today, Mister Edgeworth?" Chief Skye said after she'd closed the door to her office and walked past him to sit at her desk. This was very formal indeed.

"Well," he said and it was true right then, but he was already feeling that sinking sensation in his gut and he knew there was going to be bad news.

"I'm not going to waste time on pleasantry," she said and he noted with quiet disdain that she already had.

"The judge has made his ruling on the Sheinheilig case," she said, "He's not guilty."

Miles nodded solemnly. He could feel Chief Skye's stare boring into him.

"I'm sorry Miles," she said; her voice was suddenly soft—somehow that made things worse. He sat quietly for several moments more and then stood.

"I'm sorry, Chief," he said and made for the door.

"Sit down, Edgeworth," she said, "You did your best. But we didn't have enough eviden—"

"There was plenty of evidence," Miles said, "But he had a good defense. They had the benefit of the doubt."

He stood in front of the door glancing from her to the window and then the couch in her office, as if he wasn't sure what to do next.

"Please sit down," she said, "You know what I'm going to say to next."

He turned to face her with his back to the door but he made no move toward the couch, "They're going to want to evaluate my competency."

"You're one of the best prosecutors I've ever met," she said suddenly, "Maybe the best."

He glared at her silently for several long moments, "Chief, you'll let what's-her-name know the date of my hearing, won't you? She'll get it on my calendar—I was in the middle of something when you—"

"Edgeworth," Chief said, "This is only a formality. I'm going to try and convince them that a hearing is unnecessary—I don't believe it is. But that might mean probation instead. It's not because anyone thinks you're incompetent."

"Thank you Chief," he said stiffly, "I'll keep an eye out for whatever is decided… Good day."

He ducked out of her office before she could stop him again. The corridor outside seemed over crowded today—who were all these people? Did they work here? He kept his head down as he walked and swore that all eyes were on him. He didn't have to look to see the sympathetic stares; the suppressed laughter. Miles Edgeworth lost again.

What was he going to do now? What would he tell the twelve mothers that had to bury their daughters far too early because of the insatiable appetite and moral turpitude of this madman? What could he tell them? I'm sorry, but the DNA just wasn't enough because I couldn't prove that his brother wasn't the killer.

Because I'm inadequate as a prosecutor.

Because I just didn't try hard enough.

Miles locked the door to his office and then slumped into his chair. He stared at his hands for a while—a minute or twenty, he wasn't looking at the time—then his phone rang.

"Edgeworth," he said.

"Mister Edgeworth, sir, Detective Gumshoe," the detective said with no hint of gravity in his voice. Same old cheerful Gumshoe.

"What is it detective," Miles said.

"We chased down a couple of leads on the Bilderback case, and they arrested a guy this morning. I was going to bring the file up to see when we could send this one to court."

"Oh," Miles said, "That's fine. I'm in my office."

"Just checking, sir," Gumshoe chuckled on his end, "You've been in and out a lot the last couple of weeks."

Distracted and lazy…

"No, I'll be here," Miles reiterated.

"I'll see you later, sir," Gumshoe said and waited a few moments for his reply. Miles hung up the phone. The world would keep on spinning, no matter what.

No. Matter. What.

Miles busied himself preparing and drafting the requisite forms. He worked quickly as per usual and set everything to the side to await Gumshoe's input. He had another case he was building and he turned to work on that.

Soon enough two hours had slipped past and it was nearly lunchtime. One could always tell because the noise in the corridor always picked up as people grew anxious for a short respite from the office. His phone rang.

"Edgeworth," he said.

It was the receptionist, "There are a couple of visitors here to see you Mister Edgeworth—they say it's urgent."

"I'm not expecting anyone," Miles said, "Can you ask them the purpose of their visit?"

"It's a Mrs. Greenly and her daughter Melissa; she said you'd know what this was about."

Miles hesitated. Greenly… Victim number five… They wasted no time.

"Send them on up," Miles said trying to sound nonchalant. He hung up the phone and tidied his desk. Then he refilled and put on the kettle.

Mrs. Greenly was a very determined looking woman in her mid to late forties. She might have been pretty if she hadn't been dealing with the tragedy of this case. Her daughter Melissa must be the victim's younger sister. She was maybe fifteen or sixteen years old and looked lost huddled beside her mother, wearing her school uniform and standing in the haughty offices of the District Attorney. The girl had obviously been pulled out of school for this meeting, and for the life of him, Miles couldn't figure out why.

"Please sit," he said motioning gracefully toward the sofa and offering a slight bow. He was a public servant after all.

"Thank you Mister Edgeworth," Mrs. Greenly said, "I'm sorry to interrupt—"

"Not at all," Miles said, "Would either of you like a cup of tea?"

"No thank you," Mrs. Greenly said sitting on the sofa and pulling her daughter down beside her. She held on to the poor girl's hand for dear life, "We're not going to stay very long."

Miles exhaled as he walked toward his chair behind his desk, taking advantage of having his back turned toward them.

"I'm sorry," he said when he sat down and faced them, "We tried everything we could."

"I know," Mrs. Greenly said, "But… Is he going to go free? Just like that?"

Miles chewed his lip as he hesitated, looking for the best reply, "In a few days, yes."

There was no point in trying to sugar coat it.

"Is there anything we can do?"

He stared at her. What could he do?

"You can pursue him for civil damages, but other than—"

"He's a murderer, Mister Edgeworth," Mrs. Greely said, "a murderer and a rapist. You can't just let him out on the streets like that. There has to be something that we can do to stop him."

"We've already looked into the possibility of trying him for other, lesser crimes. But that would only delay his release by several months at most. He cannot be tried again in criminal court for the charges he was acquitted of."

"I understand that," Mrs. Greenly said, "But there has to be something…"

Her voice trailed off. Miles stared at her and she stared at the floor. The girl, Melissa, was staring at him, and it made him think of Franziska. He must have frowned at the thought because Melissa frowned back and looked away.

"I'm sorry," Miles repeated and he hated hearing the words come out of his own mouth. In his own voice.

Miles parked beside Detective Gumshoe's car and walked around to the entrance to the building. As he stepped in the first thing to hit him was the smell. It was an animal shelter after all surely he hadn't expected it to smell like fresh linens and roses? He glared at Gumshoe when the detective, smiling, joined him just inside the door.

"This is a waste of time," Miles said, "Why do we pay you if you're just going to waste time?"

Gumshoe seemed to shrink into himself a little, "Sir, you need a roommate."

Miles glowered even more darkly at the detective, but he followed him toward the back where the cages were lined up in rows.

The first room they entered smelled heavily of ammonia and clay. One wall was lined with cages—maybe twenty or thirty cages in all. Each one held a cat or kitten. Most of the animals were asleep, but the few that were awake paced their small cages with reservation. Miles' brows knit as he stared into each of the wary little faces staring back at him. The eyes were large and lambent green or yellow or in one case, pale blue.

One of the cats yowled at him and then hissed and spat. Miles chuckled.

"That's not anyway to greet someone," he said.

"Oh you don't want a cat, sir," Gumshoe said.

Miles crossed his arms. He was fixated now on a small gray tabby kitten that reached toward him through the bars of the cage, mewling. The sound was thin and tiny. Miles watched the kitten for a while and finally reached a hand toward the cage.

The kitten swatted at his fingers with a velveteen paw.

"This fellow is very… Energetic…" Miles said.

"He's really cute too, Mister Edgeworth," Gumshoe said, "But you should look at the puppies first. I found the perfect puppy for you."

Miles placed his hand flat against the gray kitten's cage and the little kitten started to rub its body against the bars of his cage. Finally he pulled his hand away and looked at Gumshoe, "Very well."

The walked through the door that led outside into an area covered over with a chain link fence with large pieces of plywood to block out some of the sun. They walked through the small fenced off area and into another building and immediately the barking started.

Miles stopped at the entrance and frowned. The shelter was terribly overcrowded and many of the dogs were packed into groups of three or more in the runs. Gumshoe greeted the girl that was working in the kennel and then immediately went to one run with four small dogs. One of the puppies was pure white with round dark eyes that shone like buttons and a little black nose. It yapped excitedly up at the detective.

Miles cocked an eyebrow.

"He's so cute," Gumshoe said, "He's perfect for—"

"Is it going to get much bigger than that?" Miles asked.

"He's a Bichon Frise mix," the girl said, "He's about six-months old, so he won't get very much bigger."

Miles stared at the little dog. He waited until the girl had moved out of earshot.

"If one were to get a dog like that," he said, "Wouldn't it be better to just get a cat?"

Gumshoe stood and frowned at him, "But Mister Edgeworth, I thought…"

Miles looked down at the little dog. It bounced along the front of the cage, relishing Gumshoe's attention. Miles crouched down beside the detective and let the little dog sniff his hand.

"WAP! WAP! WAP!" the little dog barked excitedly.

Miles stood up with a grimace. What an annoying bark.

"Hey buddy," Gumshoe cooed. He'd obviously fallen in love.

Miles shoved his hands in his pockets and walked along the row of cages. He found it terribly sad. All of the doggy faces looking hopefully up at him. Tails wagging, noses pressed through the wire if they would fit. He could only take one home—if he decided to do even that.

At the end of the row was thin ravaged looking creature in a cage all alone. Miles stopped and looked at the dog. The dog stared back but stayed in the back of the cage. The dog looked terrible. Its coat was uneven in places. But it had an alert and rather intelligent stare with square, erect ears and bright almond-shaped eyes.

"Now why are you by yourself, I wonder?" Miles said.

The dog cocked its head at him but otherwise remained where it was at the back of the cage.

"She's not for adoption," the girl said, approaching behind him. Immediately the dog stood and growled. She bared her teeth and her square ears went flat against her head.

"Has she been selected by someone else?" Miles asked.

The girl chuckled. There was no mirth in the sound, only patience worn thin and something like the acceptance of some grave inevitability.

"She's aggressive," the girl said, "She isn't safe to adopt."

Miles stared solemnly at the dog. She continued to bare her teeth and growl. Drool was starting to drip from her jaws. Miles frowned and he didn't look away from her when he spoke to the girl.

"Is she… Are they going to kill that dog?" Miles asked.

The girl hesitated and then said, "She's dangerous to people, you see. We've tried to find a home for her, but she's damaged. It's sad, but… Not every dog can be saved."

"There's that guy… The dog psychologist. He—"

"Most people don't have those kinds of resources," the girl said, "We have a lot of other dogs that need homes. You should look at one of them.

Miles stared at the dog. After a while the girl left to continue her duties. The dog continued to growl. Miles looked sidelong at the girl. She'd stopped to discuss something with Gumshoe who was still squatting in front of the little white dog's cage.

"I think I know how you feel," Miles said to the dog.

She sat and cocked her head at him. Her pointed ears erect once again.

"Why do you hate everyone?' Miles asked her, "What are you afraid of?"

The dog refused to move forward, but she lay down and rested her head on her front paws and stared warily up at him.

"No, I completely understand," he said.

Miles parked in front of the terminal and waved at the attendant. He stood by with Franziska and Heidi while their bags were being scanned.

"I enjoyed my stay, Miles Edgeworth," Franziska said twisting her whip in her hands.

Miles forced a smile and nodded at her.

"Miles, you'll take care of yourself, won't you?" Heidi said.

"Always," Miles said.

"Come on," Heidi held out her arms for a hug, "Let's say goodbye. Franziska wants to talk to you alone."

Miles glanced at Franziska and then allowed himself to be hugged by Heidi. She rubbed his back.

"I'm going to miss you," Heidi said, "You really should come back to Germany and visit my family."

"Someday," Miles said, "Soon."

"You promise?" Heidi said.

Miles almost choked on his reply, "Um… Yes. Soon."

"Franziska," Heidi said, "Do you want Starbucks?"

"No," Franziska said, "I won't be long."

Miles waved again as Heidi went into the terminal. Franziska hovered near him. He could hear the sound of the leather straining in her hands.

"I'm sorry you lost your trial, Miles," Franziska said but she was staring blank eyed past his shoulder and toward the door. He didn't feel it necessary for her to remind him of it, but then, she had just as much trouble with expressing her feelings.

"Franziska," he said and put a hand on her shoulder his fingers near the crook of her neck. She was looking at the whip in her hands, the leather shining and still a little stiff.

"Miles, I'm going to come back," she said, "and I'm going to face Phoenix Wright and win. I'm going to be a better prosecutor than… than my father."

"Oh," Miles said, "You already are."

"I'll miss you, little brother," Franziska said.

"I'm sorry if your holiday was ruined—"

She shoved into him and buried her face in his chest, "Miles I don't want to leave you here alone!"

Miles hesitated, surprised, and then he put his arms around her, "Don't worry about me, Franziska. You've got your exams and all the other—"

"You'll call me," she said, "Every night!"

Miles froze, "Well, I—"

"Say you will," Franziska said, "Or I shan't leave!"

"My dear… Every night?" Miles said and he forced a smile, "Whatever will we talk about?"

Franziska looked at him. Her pale eyes beat a steady cadence, searching his face, "Just so I can hear your voice, Miles. I will miss you."

Miles really did smile at her then he said, "Neither of us have time for this kind of nonsense, love."

Franziska glared at him and then reached her arms around his neck, "Say goodbye, Miles Edgeworth."

"Goodbye, Miles Edgeworth," he said.

A/N: Thanks for Reading! (I didn't see it coming either…)

It's weird, but I deliberated for weeks about that trial… I guess the judge did too ;)

I hope Edgeworth is going to be okay…

Thanks to any and all who read this and most especially you who took the time to review!

A Big Note:

So things are getting more difficult again, and it's hard to scrape together the time to write. I'm sorry for the trickling updates. After more than a year, and very little attention, I still feel compelled to continue writing it. So if you're reading this, thank you. You are special.

I think it's just as big a job trying to read this as it is writing it!

I've said it in multiple notes throughout that this story does need to be cleaned up. I owe it to you that have kept up with this rather manic and convoluted story—you've taken the time and effort to read this massive sprawling narrative, so the least I can do is push myself to a higher standard of quality.

I usually have to work on multiple chapters simultaneously (especially in difficult parts like the next few chapters) to keep things more continuous. It's obvious in the early chapters, that while I had a direction, it was much more general. I have big plans for HONEYMOON in its final act, and I think it will mean more if I straighten out the beginning, and middle. I owe it to you.

Look out for news of my rescrub, I'll be doing it in 5-chapter chunks to be posted simultaneous with new updates. I plan to be caught up by the time I post chapter 50. I'm expecting significant changes to the early chapters especially to line up more with a single, concise, over-arching storyline.

Thank you again for reading Turnabout Honeymoon, this was my first Ace Attorney story (It shows) and I feel like it taught me a lot. Thanks again for taking the time to read this, just reading it is no small feat. See you on the next update!

UPDATED 12 JULY2015—there you have it. It's been a long time coming, but revisions are finally done. (Well, I've got 3 more chapters and then new updates). Thanks again to anyone reading this, it has been difficult and so many times I've thought about abandoning it forever. But then, out of the blue, someone will review, or like, or follow. When I get those e-mails, it makes me want to come back and finish.

On A side note, if you are ever planning to get a dog, I hope you rescue. You'll be giving a doomed creature a home and that dog will love you and care for you like nothing I've ever seen. I've had my rescue dog for about three years now. I don't know what kind of mutt he is, but he is the best dog I could ever hope for...