Chapter 44

A Heady Tale

Miles followed her to Marienplatz, the whole while running excuses in head to explain to Mister Von Karma why he was late. But then, a girl like Sofie was worth a few minutes of terse and condescending lecture from the old man. Mister Von Karma had lectured him for much less. He was used to it by now.

The square was crowded with people; shoppers, businessmen, tourists. The noise and the bustle brought to mind buried memories of Christmas in America—but it was summertime, in Munich. She grabbed his hand and pulled him along.

All the while she talked about nothing. She hated school and her parents and she wished she could go somewhere far from there—like California. He could barely hear her for the noise and the traffic and the speed at which she was leading him through the square.

She stopped at a Starbucks and ordered a large milk and ice concoction with two shots of espresso served in a clear plastic cup. They'd entered a park further removed from the plaza where it was less crowded and they could find a quiet place to sit and talk.

They'd found a bench near a war memorial that Miles found to be a welcome distraction from his own nervousness. Sofie sipped at the green straw in her drink and stared at him with her immense brown eyes the color of coffee held up to the light. He could stare into those eyes forever.

"Will you go back to California, Miles?" she'd asked him.

"Perhaps," he told her, "When I am older."

He bit his lip then, he hated the reminder. He was sixteen and trapped where he was and at the whim of the begrudging old man. It never made sense to him. Yes he was grateful. Here he had access to better education, he was never wont for anything—not clothing, not shelter, not food—one could hardly claim to be uprooted when there weren't roots there to hold him back.

"I've been to Cambridge and New York along with my studies," he added, "and Mister Von Karma is planning to go to Florida and Georgia next year."

"Georgia?" Sofie said and she laughed prettily. He loved her teeth. They were small and square and starkly white against her pink gums—save for her two front incisors, which were slightly larger than the rest. But none of her lovely little teeth were crowded and her wide smile always put them charmingly on display.

"You don't suppose I'll see an alligator while I'm there, do you?" he asked.

She blinked at him, confused and he could feel his heart skip a beat and his stomach knot up as his joke fell flat. Perhaps lovely girls from Munich had no knowledge of alligators?

Finally, she chuckled and changed the subject. She had a professor that she did not like and a roommate that she suspected was using her makeup. Miles looked around the park while she chattered on and thought how true and lovely the sky looked and how cheerfully the sun shone down when he knew he wasn't supposed to be there. He imagined Mister Von Karma riding in every car or bus or taxi that passed.

Then Sofie took his hand.

"I knew a boy once that looked like you," she told him, "I thought you might have been his ghost."

Miles blinked at the revelation. He didn't know if she meant it as a compliment or if she was trying to scare him or what.

"He died, you see," Sofie said, "He killed himself."

Miles frowned; this was suddenly very uncomfortable.

"It makes me sad to think about it," Sofie said, "And also guilty."

"You did not kill him," Miles said awkwardly, "It wasn't your fault."

"But what if it was?" Sofie said. She reached her hand toward him suddenly and he flinched. She paused and then brushed his bangs back from his face. Her fingers were cool and damp from holding her iced drink.

Miles didn't know what to say, so he sat still and tried to remember to breathe.

"You're a very handsome fellow, Miles," she said, "But your eyes… they seem so sad."

He looked away from her then, turning his eyes sidelong toward the memorial. He tried to turn his head too but she held him there.

"Does that make you angry?" she asked.

"No," he said.

"Why are you so sad, Miles?"

He paused and met her eyes directly. His brows knit slightly.

"I'm not," he said.

Sofie stared at him and held his face with her cool damp hand for what seemed like an eternity. Then she leaned her face toward his and kissed him with her lovely mouth.

She tasted like caramel and coffee.

"It's me," he said into the phone and then, to clarify further, "Miles Edgeworth."

She seemed shocked on her end of the line. Was this desperation? No. This wasn't that kind of—was it?

"Have you had dinner yet? Do you have plans?" he asked her hoping he sounded casual, bored even, "Would you be interested in joining me—"

"Fine choice," he said. Okay, so she picked the restaurant—not that it would be a problem.

"I'll pick you up at seven?"

This might not be so bad, he thought as he made his farewells and ended the call. He checked his watch—four-forty. Fine, he had time. He changed out of his suit and went to the fitness center downstairs—he ought to try and look his best. Surely she would feel worse for it.

Five-thirty, he got in the shower—he'd managed two miles and enough crunches to make it look like he did this regularly. He was dressed and on his way by six twenty and in front of her building a half hour later.

"Miles, darling," Maddy said when she paused to give him a kiss on his cheek as he held her door for her, "I'm so glad you've come to your senses."

Miles got back into the driver's seat and started the car, "Who's to say I haven't lost my mind completely tonight?"

Maddy laughed. It was a hollow plastic sound. What did I ever see in her?

"So tell me how have you been?"

"Fine," Miles said.

"That's all? You had a very big case recent—"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Oh," Maddy started to pout, "Miles, what are you trying to do here? I thought—"

Miles looked at her and frowned, "I didn't want to be alone tonight."

She frowned at him, but at least she kept quiet. Okay. So it was true. He was lonely. And desperate. And probably a little depressed too.

"I'm glad I can be here for you, Miles," Maddy said, "and that you would ask it of me."

Miles threw her a sidelong glance—if it made her feel special… Whatever.

The restaurant was on the top floor of a luxury hotel and he pulled into the drive and traded his keys for a ticket from the valet.

In the light of the hotel lobby he caught the full spectacle of Maddy's outfit. She was really trying to impress him tonight. It made him feel a little better.

The gown was light silk that caught the light with a shimmer. It was overlaid in bold brocade flowers that stood stark against the white pearlescent backdrop of the gown. She'd had her hair put up, twisted and formed into intricate coils and braids. Maybe it looked nice. It meant a lot of hassle and pins if he were to take it down—not that he had any intention…

She looked every bit the star tonight.

There was a line at the maitre 'd podium, but they had reservations. Another perk of dating someone like Madeline Tailor—not that this was a date or anything. They were seated at a table that overlooked the ocean and the lights of Terminal Island and the waterfront. The table was private, and walled off from the rest of the patrons in the restaurant.

As soon as they were seated, Miles stuck his face in the menu to avoid looking at her while she perused the wine list.

"Will you have wine, darling?"

"Maddy, you know I don't—"

"I think you need it," she said, "Red or white?"

"I don't even know what we're having for dinner," Miles said.

He gave in. It was far too easy. Maybe Maddy just knew. Maybe that's why they'd lasted as long as they did, because they were both desperately lonely people. Miles put down the menu and looked at her.

"You do look lovely," he said and picked up his water glass. He felt giddy—but that might be from his run.

"You too, Miles," she smiled at him, "You look thin, Miles. Have you lost weight?"

Miles frowned, "No. Well, maybe… I've been very busy of late."

"Poor darling," Maddy said, "You always work too hard."

"Hmm," Miles said.

"I heard about Manfred Von Karma," she said.

Miles raised his eyebrows as if she'd commented on a bit of odd weather and picked up the menu again.

"It's all settled now," he said.

"Miles is this one of those nights where you're going to act distracted all evening?"

He peeked at her over the menu, "What are you talking about?"

"Why did you ask me out if you're only going to ignore me?"

Geez what do you want from me?

"I'm not ignoring you," he said, "We're talking right now."

"Are you well, darling?"

"Yeah," he said, "Why wouldn't I be?"

"I'm worried about you," Maddy said, "With the outcome of your last case and a death in the family—"

"Maddy I called you so I wouldn't have to talk about that."

She stared at him. He set the menu down again and forced a smile.

"What have you been up to?"

"Nothing really," Maddy said.

"You haven't dated any punk rockers since the last one?"

"His band isn't Punk, it's Indie."

"How is that different? Idiots pounding on drums and screaming out mediocre and inarticulate lyrics... I'll bet he told you he was an artist."

Maddy glared at him, "That isn't nice."

"Sorry," he said. He smiled a little. Actually, he rather liked making her angry.

"We weren't dating," she said, "We just attended the New Year's ceremonies in New York together."

"I see," Miles said, "I hope you had a good time."

"No you don't. I can't believe you're bringing this up now. I never took you for the jealous type."

"I'm not jealous," Miles said and he leaned back in his seat and smirked, "Why would I be jealous of your little monkey puppet?"

"Miles," Maddy hissed as the waiter arrived with their wine selections and a breadbasket.

Miles grinned into his fist and reached over to take a slice of baguette from the basket. He set it on the small plate and broke it up with his fingers.

"What are you hungry for?"

Maddy made an irritated click as she flipped through the menu. He smirked at her.

"We could… Have dessert first," he said casually.

She didn't look up at him, "I don't believe you Miles."

He grinned and waved his phone at her, "I can make reservations right now."

"You're not serious," she said.

He shrugged and slid his menu to the side, "I recommend the prawns."

"You hate prawns."

"Only because I don't like to eat things that look like they're looking back at me," Miles said, "But you'll love them. They're very nice here."

"What are you getting?"

"I'll have a cheeseburger," Miles said.

Maddy let out a snort of derisive laughter, "They don't have cheeseburgers here."

"Oh," Miles said, "I'm out of luck then."

"You're in a rare mood," she said. She didn't sound amused.

"Do you miss me, Maddy?" Miles asked suddenly.

She dropped her menu and met his eye. She stared for several moments.

"Why are you asking me that?"

"Because I want to know," Miles said.

Maddy stared at him unable to find an easy answer. A waiter interrupted them to take their orders. Miles felt something new inside him give. Why wouldn't she miss him? Wasn't he someone she'd miss?

Miles chewed his lip and accepted a glass of wine.

This was probably going to be a very long night.

"I do…" she said, "I did."

Miles sat back in his chair and sipped at his glass of wine. Why would she correct herself like that?

"No! You cant! I'll tell Papa! Don't you dare!"

Miles frowned. He could hear her little boots in the drive behind him. She was running and it didn't seem she would slow down.

"Miles!" Her high voice broke in desperation. He hefted his backpack and picked up his pace.

She started to run behind him. He could hear the clack from her boots. She was nine, she shouldn't be wearing boots like that.

"I'll tell! Miles! I'm going to tell!"

He'd had it. Miles stopped where he was just inside the gate and faced her.

"Do you think I care? Do you think it matters to me what you tell him? I'm leaving, and that's the end of it!" Miles said.

Franziska stopped running and she walked just close enough that he could see her face clearly. He looked away.

"Miles," she said plaintively.

He put his hand on the gate. The world was waiting, just on the other side. So was his freedom. So was Sofie.

"Where are you going to go?" Franziska said.

Miles let go of the gate and put his head down. He had no idea. Anything would be better than living here. Anything.

"Are you mad at me?" Franziska asked.

He didn't want to look at her. He would miss her.

But he didn't want to stay here anymore. He couldn't stay, not after what Sofie—

"I'm sorry, Miles," Franziska said and he could hear the gravel crunch as she moved still closer, "Whatever! If you're mad at me, I'm sorry! Just please don't leave."

Miles put his head down and leaned against the gate his hands clutching at the straps of his bag.

"Miles?"

"Stop," Miles said, "Just stop talking!"

He turned to see her standing less than an arm's length away. Her eyes were wide and teary and they held him the way only her eyes could.

"Why would you leave me?"

"I'm not—" Miles looked down at his shoes, "I can't stay here anymore. But not because of you, Franziska. I… Just…"

"If you leave here, you're leaving me!" Franziska said.

Miles refused to look at her. She was crying. He'd made her cry. Franziska never cried.

"I have to go, Franziska," he said.

"Why?"

Please don't do this! Miles ran a hand through his hair and then glowered at his little sister.

"You're probably too young to understand," he said.

"I'm smarter than most people my age," Franziska insisted.

Miles swallowed. There it was. That special brand of Von Karma madness. It startled him to hear her refer to herself as a person and not a kid, or girl… She was not a child. But then, yes she was.

But then, according to the old man he'd held on to his childhood too long. A very painful criticism for a boy who was always considered too serious. Too smart for his age. He'd always felt a smattering of pride in that—only to be told by Mister Von Karma that he was immature and childish—when he was nine.

Here was Franziska standing before him—aged nine. An example of what he should have been. Miles coughed to break the awkward silence. Franziska was still glaring with a hopelessly unbreakable resolve.

"You can't just leave for no good reason," Franziska said.

"I don't want to discuss it with you Franziska!" Miles said, this was getting to be very tiresome indeed—time was of the essence, after all.

"If you won't explain it to me, then I'm coming with you," she said and she whipped out her riding crop from where she'd had it tucked under her arm and stuck it pointedly in his face.

Miles closed his eyes in exasperation and covered his face with his hands.

"You can't come with me," Miles said.

"Try me," Franziska said and she raised her little chin and one perfect little eyebrow and regarded him haughtily. That Von Karma stare leveled icily in his direction. Her tears and her panic gone, as if he'd only imagined it.

"I'm going to go back to Munich," Miles said.

"What will you do in Munich?" Franziska said.

"I'm going to try and find someone…" Miles said not wanting to explain it all directly.

"You don't know anyone from Munich," Franziska said, then she paused and tapped her chin, "Eddie used to live there, before he moved to—"

"I met her when I was there for my studies at Ludwig-Max—"

"Who?"

Miles stared at his little sister. It was very odd indeed to be having this conversation with a nine-year-old girl. She glared icily at him.

"Her name is Sofie…" Miles said after some hesitation, "She's terribly unhappy… And I'm worried about—"

"What about me!" Franziska said and she stamped one of her booted feet indignantly, "Do you think I won't be unhappy to see you gone! You just got home! Why are you going to just leave me—"

"It's different," Miles said, "I think I'm in love with Sofie…"

Franziska slapped him across his face with her riding crop, "Miles Edgeworth! What about me? Are you saying you don't love me?"

Miles had shoved back in surprise and fell back against the iron bars of the gate clutching his face where she'd hit him. He certainly wasn't going to miss that.

"Why'd you hit me?!" he shouted at her.

"You just said you're going to leave me to chase after some little strumpet!"

"Where did you learn to talk like that?"

"Don't condescend, little brother! You mustn't go off into the world so foolishly!"

Miles straightened his posture and looked down at her. Frustrated. He clutched at a handful of loose cloth at the front of his coat and deliberated. Not sure of what to do.

Franziska had her hands on her hips and she tapped her boot as she stared up at him.

Miles hunched his shoulders and put his head down. At sixteen, he was as tall at least, as her father but thin as a rail. He suddenly felt as fragile as he looked.

"Franziska," he said, "I don't want to leave you. But I'm worried about—"

"Take me with you," Franziska said, "I'll help you find her. You will see how foolish you are to go chasing after this person."

Miles let loose a heavy sigh.

"Very well, Franziska," he said and he reached out and took her hand.

They started back toward the looming estate house.

"You mustn't run out without some supplies," he said.

"I'll send a note to Heidi," Franziska said, "In case we aren't back before Papa returns. She can say we've gone to visit her."

Miles nodded solemnly—he hadn't planned on coming back at all.

Dinner was awkward and expensive. She certainly couldn't complain about that. They'd managed two bottles of wine between them and to be safe, Miles got a room in the hotel and since he didn't want to be alone she stayed with him.

The room was a suite reserved for honeymooners, which he'd taken under the name Phoenix Wright and Lotta Hart.

"Who's Lotta Hart?" Maddy asked him as they stumbled up the stairs arm in arm.

"She's a photographer—of sorts," he said and they paused on the landing.

He put his head down and stared at her, "You know what Maddy?"

She laughed as he leaned in pushing her up against the wall, "What Darling?"

"My name," he stood back from her suddenly and waved his hand in a flourish, "My name is Miles Edgeworth and I haven't had a drink in three years eight months and seventeen days… Hours minutes seconds, blah blah blah…"

Maddy laughed, "Did you just say 'blah blah'?"

"No I said blah blah blah—notice the subtle minu—"

"And you've fallen off the wagon?"

"The wagon? Fall? Maddy you pushed me you she-devil!"

He took her hand and started up the next flight of steps, "You're the worst thing that's ever happened to me."

"Miles you need to take the drama llama outside and shoot it," Maddy said laughing as if it was the funniest thing anyone had ever thought of.

"I could never shoot a llama… No llama has ever done me any wrong," he said.

He continued up the stairs hurriedly, dragging her along. He slowed when she started to lag behind him and stopped at another landing.

"Are you sure you don't want to try the elevator?"

"I'm sure," Miles said and he frowned when Maddy sat on the top step looking up at him, "Surely you don't expect me to carry you?"

She made a face at him.

"I thought this might get you warmed up," he grinned.

Maddy smiled back at him, "Why are you trying to get me warmed up?"

Miles shook his head and shrugged, "I hope you brought bananas, Maddy, dear."

Maddy stood up slowly. She was laughing, "Bananas?"

"Because I feel like monkeying around!"

He leaned into the wall his head bent toward her. Maddy reached up and touched his cheek.

"I know why you're a prosecutor and not a comedian," Maddy said.

"That wasn't funny? The bananas?"

"No," she laughed.

"Aw," Miles said, "it took me all night to come up with that."

Maddy laughed again, "I think we need to find that wagon and get you back on it."

"Ah, yes," he said and all of a sudden he leaned into her, putting his shoulder into her abdomen and lifted her so that she was bent over his back.

"Miles!"

"We're running out of time," he said, "I didn't pay for that room so we could stay all night in the stairwell."

He staggered up another two flights before she begged him to let her down, he was panting from the effort.

"Miles, what floor is this?"

He looked at a plate near the door on the landing, "Eleven."

"Aren't we on the seventh floor?"

"Damn," he said.

The Honeymoon Suite was in room number 706. It was a charming room, with a sitting area and a separate bedroom. The bathroom had a garden tub and a separate shower. Robes and slippers were complimentary. Roses had been placed on the dresser—everything to complete the fantasy for a young couple starting their new lives as husband and wife. It made Miles laugh—almost.

Well, he chuckled about it a little.

They got undressed and tried the tub and then fooled around. They were both too drunk for very much else and went to sleep in the wide king bed. They didn't even have to sleep next to each other in a bed that size.

Actually, Miles had rolled himself over onto Maddy's side of the bed for a cuddle, but she didn't want to mess up her hair. It was probably better this way anyway.

Miles awoke at three in the morning to vomit up his preposterously expensive dinner—what little of it he'd actually eaten as he'd filled himself up mostly with wine. When he was sure he wasn't going to be sick anymore he dug through the complimentary toiletries for a toothbrush and toothpaste. He felt like shit.

He stared at himself in the mirror—he'd been sans mirror at his flat for a couple of weeks now, and it was strange to see himself staring back. His hair was tousled and the soft yellow light of the vanity found and brought out the planes and angles in his physique.

"You look good," he told himself. He felt like shit, but he looked good. So why would she push him away? Why didn't she miss him? He tired quickly of his own company and stood in the doorway of the bathroom to stare at Maddy instead.

Her lovely dress was laid carefully over a chair and she'd taken the extra pillows to prop up her head so that she didn't have to take down her hair. The light from the bathroom traced the curve of her cheek and followed down the length of one slender thigh where she'd kicked away the covers.

Miles stared at her, like a starving man stares at a banquet and chewed his lip in frustration. He really had hit the bottom. He'd never felt so desperately alone—not since he was a kid waking up orphaned in a hospital. He shouldn't do it. She's drunk. He shouldn't.

Miles crossed the small space between the bathroom door and the bed and leaned over Maddy. He cradled her head in one hand while the other slid over her breasts where they were hidden under the cool bed sheets. He kissed her and her body rose to meet his and she kissed him back in her sleep. She tasted like wine.

"Danny…"

He stopped and sat beside her on the bed and brushed a few loose strands of her hair away from her forehead. She'd been scarred long before their strange courtship.

Of course it was doomed. They weren't in love. They were compatible people who were rarely compatible with anyone else—but they were never in love.

Miles kissed her on her forehead and got up to walk to the window. The room had one of those faux balconies with balustrades mounted against the wall and windows that ran past the floor. He stared down at the quiet waterfront. His own face stared back faded and distant against the night sky.

Maybe it was the wine. But he was shocked to see tears sliding down the face of the faded and distant young man. He inhaled deeply to calm his nerves but his breath broke in a sob. Then he was pressed against the window sobbing like a child. But this window did not open. The railings were only for show; there was no balcony.

"Miles?"

He didn't hear her. He wished he hadn't. Why couldn't she stay asleep?

"Miles? What's wrong?"

"Don't come here!" he said—more harshly than he'd intended.

"Darling, what happened?" She sounded like she'd come closer.

"Just leave me alone!"

A/N: Thanks for Reading!

So it begins…

The first flashback Miles is sixteen

The second flashback happens later—he's still sixteen.

The moral of this chapter: Don't drink and climb stairs…

I think this version of Edgeworth has a toothbrush fetish… He brushes his teeth A LOT…

Chapters 1-5 have been revised and updated!

UPDATED 12JUL2015 – LOL. This chapter... Minor edits and corrections.