118 Heart Of Steel

 A/N: One very important thing I need to clarify guys, and sorry for any confusion, but Lana was not actually pregnant. This was right before Rise From The Ashes, when things came to an ugly head and I guess being blackmailed by Damon Gant was finally getting to her stress levels, resulting in her monthly visitor being greatly delayed, but it indeed was a false alarm, so no child was lost in this case!

Build a fire a thousand miles away
To light my long way home
I ride a comet
My trail is long to stay
Silence is a heavy stone
I fight the world and take all they can give
There are times my heart hangs low
Born to walk against the wind
Born to hear my name
No matter where I stand I’m alone

Stand and fight
Live by your heart
Always one more try
I’m not afraid to die
Stand and fight
Say what you feel
Born with a heart of steel

Burn the bridge behind you
Leave no retreat
There’s only one way home
Those who laugh and crowd the path
And cut each other’s throats
Will fall like melting snow
They’ll watch us rise with fire in our eyes
They’ll bow their heads
Their hearts will hang low
Then we’ll laugh and they will kneel
And know this heart of steel was
Too hard to break
Too hard to hold

Miles Edgeworth
February 25, 2017

“Swan Song”

They say that God will never give you more than you can handle. He slammed his fist on his desk, putting his head in his hands. Given the corybantic vicissitudes that have overcome my life recently, He thinks I am some sort of… badass!

Alternatively, perhaps The Man Upstairs, just like everybody else, had been so completely fooled by his outwardly stoic, unflappable nature that he believed that Miles Edgeworth would be able to endure being put through hell and back again, in a manner that would have brought even the mightiest of men to their knees! That he would be driven to the pits of hell and be able to stare into the bottomless abyss of Satan’s coal-black eyes, all within the mere duration of two months, and come out of it completely unscathed, as though he were some sort of indestructible Demigod.

But I am nor have ever strived to be anything of the sort! I am no demagogue nor frondeur of and have never aspired to be! I am merely human. A mortal man, that is rapidly crumbling and is nowhere near as infallible as He deemed me to be! I have lost my way. I have lost my faith. And I can no longer endure. I am lost, and in utmost despair, and everything and everyone I have ever revered, trusted, or had believed in has betrayed me. Now I am alone. More alone than I have ever felt since I lost my father.

The grief surged with every expelled breath, always reaching higher peaks, never sufficiently soothed by his long intakes of air.

Scott Fitzgerald put it best: “There’s a loneliness that only exists in one’s mind. The loneliest moment in someone’s life is when they are watching their whole world fall apart, and all they can do is stare blankly.”

Miles’ aloof, distant disposition was a mixed blessing. In as much as he knew he was considered by many a tough nut to crack, so was he also considered being a formidable courtroom adversary. His was a character that had been purposefully harnessed by Manfred from the moment he had insisted his adopted son take up fencing.

He had been 13 when the German man had first introduced him to Wolfram, a towering and imposingly brawny man with countless “battle wounds,” on his face, hands, and body. Henceforth, he had currently informed his ward that fencing was to become a part of his daily education for the rest of his years in Germany. Miles had always been more of an intellectual than an athlete, save for dancing and horseback riding, and had been filled with trepidation in the beginning, but Manfred had left no room for negotiation.

“Pay heed to this as much as you do your law education, Edgeworth. Only then will you be adequately equipped, and trained for the day you stand up in court and face your opposition. You will practice this fine sport, which is a centuries-old tradition in the Von Karma family, and you will uphold it and carry out that duty to the best of your capability by practicing daily and having the same regard for the Wolfram’s instructions and teachings as you do my own. I trust you not to disappoint me.”

Therefore, fencing became as much a part of his life as much as his legal studies. For an entire grueling hour, five days a week, Miles was the apt pupil of the ruthless German instructor, with a target nailed to the wall and the iron-cornered footlockers full of odd-looking armor. Occasionally, Manfred would silently observe his protégé’s progress and spar with Wolfram as well. Miles would watch in fascinated wonderment as the two fully masked men, only several feet apart, as his mentor easily held his own and always triumphed with the parrying and thrusting of his blade against his much younger and nimble opponent. It was a new dimension to the older man, which was no less awe-inspiring than watching him in action in the courtroom.

After three years, and miraculously, zero cuts or scars, Miles grasped how the activity applied to his career. He learned how to face an opponent without flinching; how to exercise self-control and employ misdirection even in the face of bodily fear; and always, always to attack. To his surprise, he found that after a few weeks, he enjoyed it and even had a flair for it, once he learned that most duels were won and lost in the mind before the swords were even raised.

At the time, he had been grateful to be exposed to this additional source of strength. Now he realized that had just been yet another way that Manfred had employed in moulding him into becoming a carbon copy of himself, and even less and less like Gregory Edgeworth. He felt positively sick to his stomach at the realization.

During that entire courtroom fiasco, two months ago, he was still contending with the revelation that his beloved father had lost his life at the wretched hands of his revered mentor.

Now, on top of that, he had seen the actual black soul, Chief Damon Gant’s true colors had come to light. The two men Edgeworth had looked up to had committed multiple heinous crimes: tampering with evidence, assault, forging evidence, and worst of all; murder.

He sighed in despair, running his fingers through his hair. What was he supposed to think now? On the witness stand, Gant had said they were one and the same.

“You despise criminals. I can feel it. You and me… we’re the same. If you want to take them on alone… you’ll figure out what’s needed!”

Miles had modeled himself to be like both Manfred and Gant for so long and was horrified at the possibility of any validity in the harrowing claim. Would he, someday, have the remaining shreds of his existing humanity be so vastly diminished that he too would become ruthless enough to take another human life, motivated by nothing more than his personally selfish desires? Up until now, Miles had thought that he was pursuing the path, and serving justice by emulating the two men, only now to discover it was expertly woven lies, unraveled by his old friend and court rival, Phoenix Wright.

Gant was incarcerated now, and he would be put on death row, never to be a free man again. However, the terrifying possibility of just how much of both evil men’s influence existed in him was still too chilling for it to be much more than a mild grim pleasure to the knowledge that he and Phoenix have achieved such a feat together.

The former police chief’s words might have been the catalyst, but the yen to flee Los Angeles had been building slowly but inexorably since his own trial at Christmas. The initial relief when he realized that he hadn’t killed his father had soon passed, and then Miles had been hit by the full impact of the deception and betrayal that Manfred Von Karma had perpetrated.

Miles could still taste the bile rising in the back of his he clenched his fists reflexively as he relived that moment it had been revealed that his caretaker had been the actual cold-blooded murderer of his father; that he had manipulated Miles’ life for nearly two decades, all in the name of petty revenge. The pain of that revelation was as profound now, two months later, as it had been that day in court.

Until then, he had never consciously doubted his purpose, as a prosecutor or as Manfred Von Karma’s chosen successor. Within months of Yanni Yogi’s acquittal echoing around the courtroom all those years ago, Miles’ thirst for vengeance against the man he had believed to be his father’s killer, as well as his all-consuming hatred for Yogi’s defense attorney, had been harbored and further fueled into an all-consuming obsession at the hands of the controlling and unscrupulous puppet master.

“Mark my words, Edgeworth,” Manfred had countlessly lectured. “All suspects and witnesses lie, and you must be prepared to think along the lines of lowlifes like them to have a proper rebuttal. There are times when we have to use similar methods to trap the guilty, be that half-truths or selective evidence. The ends justify the means. Being the good guy will get you nowhere. Had the prosecutor for Yogi done his job properly, Robert Hammond and Yanni Yogi would never have been able to lie and deceive their way from due justice. You are my successor and you too will have a perfect conviction record. I will not allow you to fail, and you shall not dissatisfy me.”

Miles had been taught so many dishonest tactics and had so much falsity drilled into him since childhood that he wasn’t sure what to do anymore. Manfred von Karma taught him to withhold information and evidence and do whatever it took to receive a guilty verdict. Whether the defendant was guilty or innocent, he had been told that everyone was guilty until proven innocent (and they were never proven innocent until he had clashed with Wright) and that the verdict was the only thing that mattered. Losing was not an option in the von Karma household. He had been instructed to eliminate the world’s criminals and with the belief of “guilty until proven innocent” and that everyone was a potential criminal, guilty of some form of wrongdoing, that he as a prosecutor was required to cure the earth of.

Manfred’s words contradicted the very principles instilled by Gregory Edgeworth, teachings that the late, great Bruce Lee originally articulated but his father had adeptly applied to the practice of law.

“Bring the mind into sharp focus and make it alert so that it can immediately intuit truth, which is everywhere. The mind must be emancipated from old habits, prejudices, restrictive thought processes, and even ordinary thought itself,” Gregory had fervently instructed his son. “An attorney never lies. He can only employ facts and evidence to substantiate his case; otherwise, he’s no better than a criminal himself.”

As time went by, it became harder and harder for Miles to reconcile the two lessons to soothe his conscience, but to little avail. After all, hadn’t he lied on the witness stand when he had claimed complete ignorance about his knowledge of what had happened that fateful night in the elevator? His reoccurring nightmares about the DL-6 incident were a further indication that however ruthless it seemed; his mentor was right. It was hard to have belief in humanity where Miles Edgeworth was conclusive evidence that witnesses indeed, did lie.

It was this dark secret, which endlessly tormented him, which he kept hidden within the depth of his very soul, and, further fired him up to his targeted mission as a prosecutor to ensure that suspects were declared guilty and that the lies of defense attorneys were exposed and destroyed by any means necessary. He had gotten so caught up in his brainwashed beliefs that he’d begun to take vain, conceited arrogance, and his perfect courtroom record. He had basked in the reward that was his mentor’s hard-earned praise; that satisfied smile and approving hand on his shoulder that showed the world Manfred’s recognized pride for his protégé’s successful endeavors.

It sickened him to this day at the realization that what he had mistaken for an admiring smile had not been in recognition of his achievements but had been a smug, barely suppressed smirk at the naïve guilelessness of his enemy’s son. The thought that his combined misplaced conceit and barely repressed self-loathing had blinded him for so long was staggering and more painful than an actual gunshot wound.

What cruel hand of fate had decided that Miles Edgeworth, the sole offspring of the great, legendary, and gifted Gregory Edgeworth, could have fallen victim and ended up with not one but two role models or such moral turpitude? Moreover, each man was insidiously guilty of two of the seven deadly sins: Wrath and Greed.

Manfred von Karma, his near lifelong mentor; had been so driven by the need for absolute perfection that he flew into a vengeance-fueled vendetta towards Miles’ father for threatening that perfection. He’d killed Gregory Edgeworth in cold blood and took in his only son to shape him into the opposite of everything the legendary defense attorney had stood for in his ultimate, triumph of Take That! to degrade even the very legacy of his fallen enemy.

Then, there was Damon Gant. The virulent despot who’d gone to great lengths to rearrange the scene of Neil Marshall’s death to frame Ema Skye, just to turn her older sister into his prosecutor puppet; even murdering Detective Goodman to keep his interference a secret. A man so motivated by his lust for greater power, even betraying and manipulating his most trusted partner, the other half of the Legendary Duo, Lana Skye.

Lana.

Miles expelled a painful sigh. The final blow of betrayal.

Three strikes. I’m out.

He went to see her immediately at the detention center after she had been sentenced.

Flashback

Miles Edgeworth and Lana Skye
Detention Centre
February 25, 2017

“How could you do it to me, Lana?” The barrister demanded harshly. “I can sympathize that you had very good reasons for everything you did. I understand you did all to protect Ema. What I don’t understand is why you chose to try to frame me for a crime I had no hand in by putting Goodman’s corpse in the trunk of my car rather than coming to me for help.”

Lana eyed her ex-swain mournfully. Sitting there on the other side of the glass, he was as majestically stern as ever – a literal sight for sore eyes, even though his slate ones were sharp, judgmental, and worst of all, filled with the weight of her betrayal.

She felt her own eyes welling up.

“After the way things ended between us, you would’ve still helped me?” The former Chief Prosecutor replied hoarsely, her throat tightening up with barely suppressed tears. “You, being a man of the law, who despises crime… if I’d come to you, what could you have done? Would you have honestly helped me dispose of the slain detective’s still bleeding carcass?”

She saw him wince slightly at the gory description and lifted her chin challengingly.

“Just as I suspected – you couldn’t even bear the thought! I know you far better than that.”

“I guess we’ll never know now, will we?” He replied flatly. “What I truly cannot fathom, though, is your quizzical stance of acting like you’re the wounded, discarded party here, Lana. Have you forgotten that you’d already made your decision before all of this happened?”

“But you get to have the last laugh, don’t you?” She saw his expression of surprise and smiled grimly. “Surely you put it together, based on the testimony and evidence that came to light in the trial that Jake and I are no longer together? It seems the strain of being with someone as cold and secretive as myself, near the end, was more than my cowboy could bear, and ironically, in the end, shortly after I chose to be with him, he chose to walk away from me soon after. Now we’re both behind bars and ultimately, I am as alone as I was when I first came into this world.”

She gave a mirthless laugh.

“Perhaps it is no less than I deserve.”

“I suppose if I hadn’t been through the mill already, in more ways than one, I would say that I’m sorry for your loss. But I was, and ergo, I didn’t come here to hear your pity party,” he snapped tersely. “I came here to know why. I trusted you and foolishly believed that against all odds, as my superior, if naught else, you would have my back, as I would have yours. Above all else, I tried to comfort you in your time of need, and therefore thought I was at least beyond a colleague and friend if nothing else.”

It was true. Lana knew a side of Miles Edgeworth that few ever had the pleasure of knowing; she’d seen him perfectly vulnerable and exposed, and it was that had drawn her to him and kept her torn in two all this time. She and the High Prosecutor had once upon a time, been as close as two people could be, without being bound by promises or titles. He had helped her find a part of herself that she was forced to abandon after the events of SL-9, helped her keep a trace of her former happiness and compassion, and thawed some of the ice that she’d been forced to build around her heart and kept her distance from so many for so long.

“…I’ve told you everything,” he went on, a mumble at most. “I’ve told you in confidence about my father, my past, my fears… I’ve given you my trust, my secrets…” He crossed his arms over his chest, self-consciously, eyes closed tight. “You’re aware I’ve given you many things I simply cannot take back.”

Lana felt her heart lurch as she saw the pained expression barely concealed under the anger. Despite knowing why she’d done all she had, Miles still had every right to hate her. This wasn’t even the first time he had been betrayed. She knew this firsthand, the stories gifted to her by the very man himself. They were words she held in her heart much like a trophy, proud to have been entrusted with secrets he claimed to have never told another at the time. She didn’t trust herself to speak. What could she possibly say that’d be assuaging to his suffering, which she had been part of causing?

Her silence was killing him, and he felt a sudden burst of helpless rage and anguish.

“Damn, you, woman!” Miles crossed his arms self-consciously across his broad chest and squeezed his eyes shut, as though he couldn’t bear to look at her another second. “I’ve given you my trust, my secrets… I’ve confided in you about my father and my past and my nightmares… I regret that I have given you so many things that I cannot take back! I did all foolishly thinking I could take you into my confidence because I thought that we actually had something worth mentioning. Something undefined, yet nevertheless, something special.”

“We did,” she whispered desperately, rapidly blinking back the tears now trembling from her lashes. “The fact that it was your car was nothing personal, Miles. Not in the way you think. It had nothing to do with you, or our past – you have to believe me.”

“How can I?” His face was a mask of cold fury. “All these years I’ve known you, yet you never deemed me privy to this pain and torment that you’ve been carrying within you all this time having been Gant’s puppet. I tried to be there for you and console you, and in return all you saw me as was a witless marionette in this scripted little masquerade of yours, dangling from invisible strings connected to your fingers. You, the apparent puppet master of prosecutors.”

The words were sharp. Lana felt as though she’d swallowed a fistful of broken glass. Every shard coursed in deep pulses through her veins. She didn’t expect to hear the sigh, nor the pained breath that came next, which she was surprised he allowed her to hear at all.

Then he spoke again, so quietly that she almost couldn’t hear him.

“Even amidst our most cherished moments, which, admittedly, leaned more towards tumult than tranquility, I frequently found myself yearning to unravel the mystery of severing ties with you. The mental fatigue of constantly dwelling on you, coupled with the discomfort of battling recurring jealousy towards others, left me feeling both self-centered and insecure. There were countless days when I longed to rid myself of this inexplicable addiction to you. Yet, in a peculiar way, gratitude is owed to you, for your betrayal has finally empowered me to do what I should have done long ago – walk away. From you, from everything. Without regrets.”

“Miles, please…”

“I gave you my all, Lana.” His face was now expressionless and back to his normally impassive, sangfroid veneer. “It may not have been much, but it was all I had and all that I knew.”

“I know you did. Please know that you will always have a place in my heart, for the rest of my life, even if you loathe and despise me for the rest of yours. I’m so, so sorry Miles.” The tears were now falling openly, small crystal beads that trailed down her cheeks to her neck, and orange jumper-clad chest. “For all that I have done, wittingly or unwittingly, to have caused you pain, there is nobody that will ever hate me more than I do myself. All I ask is that someday, somehow, you can find it in your heart to forgive me.”

“I don’t know if I can.” Miles shook his head and eyed her dispassionately. “The way I feel right now someday looks like perhaps the next month … after never.” He rose from his seat then and turned his face away from her. “I’ve said all I need to say. Goodbye, Lana.”

“Please don’t go like this,” she begged. “I don’t know when or if I will ever see you again. Surely, you can’t be so cold and unfeeling as to just leave things like this between us?”

There was a tense silence between the former lovers as they stared into one another’s eyes.

“I am the product of what this world, and people like you, have made me be, Lana,” he answered at last, and then walked away, leaving the weeping former Chief Prosecutor impotently calling after him.

Miles steeled himself against the heart-wrenching sound of the muffled sobs crying out his name and forced himself to keep moving and not look back; to never go back, and only move on.

You stand at a crossroads, resolute that there’s no turning back. Moving ahead without someone who held significant meaning in your life is a journey fraught with the sensation of part of yourself being forcibly torn away. As you stride forward, an ache permeates, a poignant reminder that on certain days, you’ll find yourself in bed yearning to rewind time, to once again rest in the solace of her embrace. Progressing forward is a bittersweet odyssey, for with each step, she appears to recede into the distance. The memories, once vivid, now disperse like echoes fading into the abyss. There’s an inherent pain in this forward momentum because as much as you move away, the pain lies in the fear that those memories will dissipate. This is why forgetting would be great; except you don’t want to forget. Not now. Not yet.

End Flashback

Sitting in his office now, Miles replayed the torture scene at the detention center scene over and over in his mind, feeling as though he were being lashed by a merciless whip across their flesh each time he did so.

For an extended period to come, I am aware that your voice will linger, resonating even when the prospect of seeing you again remains distant, perhaps for many years, if ever. I recollect the seemingly trivial phrases you once uttered, back when I perceived you as a vulnerable damsel in distress, invoking in me a chivalrous compulsion to provide solace. Reflecting upon all those inanities uttered by my attempted silver tongue, I am left to ponder their ultimate significance in the grand scheme of things.

Miles forced himself to harden his heart as he mentally bid Lana Skye adieu in his mind, even though he felt his eyes stinging as he did so.

The anguish is profound as I reflect on the deliberate pain you inflicted, masked by your artfully innocent facade. For years, you skillfully hinted at but never fully disclosed your tales of trauma and victimhood, weaving a narrative that sought to forge a bond of shared suffering. I played the lead in your dramas until I glimpsed behind the curtains and saw the stage lights. The repetitive themes and scripted nature of your narrative became evident. Perhaps you should have diversified more. Nonetheless, your haunting presence remains in ways I struggle to articulate. Does it hold any significance now that I recognize our past was not rooted in genuine love? At the time, we both believed it was. I gave you my heart willingly, but that should never have diminished its worth; it was, in fact, priceless. There lies a distinction. Each reminder of you evokes a longing for someone to share my thoughts with, yet you are irretrievably distant, lost for good, and that too is a source of pain. Fragments of you may persist within me, akin to holding onto water, while parts of me stain the ground as I walk away for the last time. The profound hurt stems from the genuine care we both professed, yet somehow, it failed to align.

Thereafter, he’d had Franziska to contend with. He’d relayed the news after she had recovered somewhat from the trauma of the party she had attended. Miles had been bracing himself for some sort of hysterical reaction, and even tears, followed eventually by grudging acceptance, as he had with Katharina, once he had divulged the truth about Manfred during his last visit to Germany.

The barrister had recognized Franziska’s precocious nature and intellect at a very early age and as the years passed, she began to show early signs of the prodigy that she would become. He’d always admired her indomitable spirit and had not been in the least surprised when she’d exceeded his own academic success to pass her bar exam at 13 years of age. As a woman of the law herself, he had expected some sort of acknowledgment that nobody was above the law, at the very least, and at least realized that her father was no exception.

However, what he had neither anticipated nor been prepared for, was the misdirected anger and sudden blinders she would put on about all matters about her father the moment the news had sunk in. It seemed the younger Von Karma sibling was content to view her father, the monster as some sort of martyr now that he was on death row.

“Undankbares Schwein!” She had screeched at him upon hearing the news. “My Papa was not a perfect man by any means but he was a genius and he still raised you! He gave you the best of everything, and this is how you repay him?! By betraying him, not only besmirching his name publicly but by sending him to his death? How dare you!”

Miles heaved a great sigh as he artfully dodged the sofa cushion, the nearest available weapon of choice that was handy for her at the time, and shook his head at her.

“The only one guilty of betrayal, Franziska, is your father. Not me. I thought you would be better to hear from me, rather than on some sort of international news station…”

“I don’t want to hear another word!” She shrieked. “Papa was a man of many faults, I acknowledge that. Nevertheless, I refuse to stand idly by while you try to shift the blame entirely onto him for –”

“You just acknowledged that Manfred was a man who had faults, and was therefore not as perfect as one would’ve liked to think.” He could hear the frustration creeping into his normally calm cadence. “And yet you are content to still turn a blind eye and try to deny his guilt? The man murdered my –“

“Enough, Miles Edgeworth!” She took a step forward in anger, her eyes narrowed dangerously. “There is no need for you to sully my ears repeating his crimes, of which I am fully aware! But you! You … helped that dastardly fool, that nobody, humiliate my father in court! You without any recourse whatsoever betrayed the honor of this family and threw away your reputation for – that man. That… Phoenix Wright.”

She spat the words out as though they were blasphemy.

He stared at her in disbelief, confused by the abrupt redirection of her ire.

“This is ludicrous, Franziska! Phoenix Wright is not to blame for what happened to your father.”

“The only thing that’s ridiculous is the fact that I trusted you!” She raged. “I am the biggest fool of all by ever doing so! Papa always said a true Von Karma trusts no one.”

The irony of the situation was astounding. Miles would’ve laughed as he wasn’t so thunderstruck and agonized at getting into this horrible fight, with the woman he had only recently realized he loved more than anything in the world. Unfortunately, however, he obviously would not be seeing eye-to-eye with her on this matter, and this undoubtedly would destroy any chance of anything transpiring between them, before they could even begin.

“After all is said and done, does your family name really mean that much to you, even now, Franziska Von Karma?”

“You would dare ask me such a thing?” She glared at him. “You had your opportunity to avenge your father, yet you would question my desire to do the same?”

“You’re channeling your rage at the wrong person,” Miles insisted helplessly. “The only thing Phoenix Wright did was expose the truth, and make me realize that somewhere along the line, I not only lost my way as a prosecutor but as a man.”

“Get out of my sight, Miles Edgeworth.” Her eyes hardened, and with a pang, he saw all traces of the vulnerable girl who had slept in his arms and gazed at him lovingly only two nights before, completely vanishing before his eyes. “I thought that I knew you but I was wrong. You have scorned me and my family with your wayward ways, and sacrificed everything for someone you claimed was nothing but a distant acquaintance for a lifetime ago. I will restore the reputation of the Von Karma name. You… you’re no longer worthy of being my Little Brother.”

“Franziska, I didn’t come here to fight with you – that wasn’t my intention.”

“Then why are you here?” She demanded.

“I wanted to see you. That’s all.” It sounded foolish to his ears now, but it was the truth.

“And why should you imagine that I want to see you, Miles Edgeworth, after you ruined my father and shamed our family name and are talking like a fool? You’ve thrown away everything that made you who you are. Do you expect me to tell you that I forgive you, that it’s all a dream, that everything will be alright, just like I did when we were children?”

Miles looked away from her again and crossed his arms.

“I expect nothing from you, Franziska. I never have. I’m the one who has lost my way, and only I can find it again.”

“Do whatever you want – it is of no importance to me. I can think of no occasion that I would need to discuss with anyone. Begone from me and do as you please, for I no longer give a damn!” Her gaze raked him scornfully. “After today, I no longer wish to see you in this house. Show yourself out.” She stalked away before he could answer, her heels echoing loudly in the empty corridor.

Miles did not attempt to follow her, although he turned to watch her as she stormed out of the room, taking his heart with her. They had often fought as children, but they had also clung together in this house. Years of seclusion, surrounded by books of law and reminders of the legacy of the Von Karmas – yards of perfection measured in portraits along the walls and framed certificates of law. There was little they had not shared, but now there was a rift between them that he felt he had no hope of ever filling. He knew she was fiery, that in anger, she said words she was likely to regret afterward, but right now, to his battered, scarred heart and mind, he had no reason to believe she hadn’t meant every single one.

She’s right. As familiar as the house and its occupants are, this is no longer my home. I don’t belong here anymore.

In the aftermath of the encounter with his Franziska, the grief and misery he had been fighting ever since all day had returned tenfold.

Much like Rip van Winkle, I find solace in the notion that I’ve been in a prolonged slumber for almost two decades. It feels like a surreal dream, one from which I only stirred on that fateful day in the courtroom, the day I heard that haunting scream that had tormented my nightmares. There are moments when I yearn to have lingered in that oblivious state. Even with the awareness I now possess, I occasionally contemplate trading my current reality for the bygone one – the security it offered, the semblance of certainty, no matter how illusory. Manfred dangled that security before me, a lifeline that I clung to throughout those years. It served as my only escape from the relentless nightmares and the solitary path to redemption for the transgressions I had committed.

And with that grieving brought on all its emptiness and a renewed sense of loss that he had not felt so keenly since the night after his trial.

Is this what it feels like to have nothing to live for?

Images of Los Angeles crowded his mind – Gumshoe, Wright, Larry, the Skye sisters, the Prosecutor’s Office, the District Court – people and places that he knew well two days ago. Now they felt vague and blurred, like someone else’s memories that he’d merely read in a book. Now his only reality was the overwhelming desire to run, hide, and lose himself somehow, anywhere.

No matter which path he took it always came back to the hangman’s noose at the center of the maze. There was only one way out.

No. He refused to take the coward’s route and kill himself, tempting though it might have been, despite knowing that others had taken their own lives for lesser reasons.

He couldn’t, wouldn’t do that to the woman he loved, whose family was all gone and whose sister was off in another country. No matter how much Franziska hated him right now – he had not even bothered trying to contact her since his last visit, knowing she would either ignore his messages or hang up on him – he would never leave her all alone like that.

He’d promised the angelic Minna Von Karma he wouldn’t.

A distant memory from back when he was 15 of the saintly woman – the only true maternal figure he’d ever known – flashed through his mind.

It’d been just months before her tragic death.

Flashback

Miles Edgeworth and Minna Von Karma
Von Karma Estate, Germany
2008

“My Franziska looks up to you like no other, Miles,” she’d said to him in that melodious voice he had so loved. “Katharina will be off and married soon, and since my husband travels so much, you are all she truly has in this world. You understand this, do you not?”

“Yes, Madam Minna,” he mumbled, acknowledging the veracity of the words, even though they confused him. He cared about Franziska very much; she was generally a good kid, but couldn’t understand why the family matriarch was speaking in such a manner, as though already taking herself entirely out of the equation. Verily, the youngest Von Karma would always have him as her Little Brother. But what about her mother?

As though noting the questioning look in his eyes, Minna gave a rueful laugh and lifted a frail hand to brush back an errant strand of golden hair from her tired eyes.

“I love both my daughters with every fiber of my heart, but Katharina is grown now, so my little girl is my world, for the rest of my days on this earth,” she told him, flashing a beatific, reassuring smile. “Please do not look so worried, dear child. It is just that we can never predict the future, can we, Miles? Come what may, could you be my good little boy, and just promise me that Franziska will never be alone? That you will always look after her, no matter what?”

“I – I promise, Madam Minna,” Miles nodded solemnly, although a flicker of anxiety went through him as he noted the look of undeniable relief, as well as newfound peace, in those expressive gray orbs. This had been no standard plea of parental reassurance, of that he was certain. Somehow, he instinctively knew there was much more to the belied her words than his foster mother was letting on. “You have my word.”

“You have always been such a Süßer Junge,” she murmured, leaning back on her pillow and shutting her eyes as she gently placed her hand against his cheek. “Danke, Miles. I hope someday, my little girl finds a good man, just like you. I also want you to know that no matter what, you, too will be carried in my heart. Always and always.”

End Flashback

Last but not least, Miles had to contend with the re-emergence of Mr. Phoenix Wright, his childhood chum with whom he had lost all contact, back in his life, out of the blue! The man who had decided to become a lawyer because he knew doing so would reunite them in court one day. The mensch of a defense attorney, with his earnest, puppy dog eyes, dredging up memories Miles had been content to leave buried. He’d spoken of unanswered letters that he had written to Miles over the years, letters that Miles had never received. That was yet another hidden truth of which he had been unaware and was undoubtedly Manfred’s doing.

Curse, you, Wright! You forced me to break down these walls, which, after all these years, have been vital for both my self-preservation and my very sanity! I never doubted myself until you! What am I supposed to do with myself now, now that you’ve opened the floodgates and made me think and feel and re-evaluate everything in my life? I can’t just continue going on as if nothing ever happened!

The prosecutor rubbed his now throbbing temples.

What was it about Phoenix Wright that made him such a phenomenal Ace Attorney, one who had bested even the most veteran prosecutors? At this point, he fully acknowledged it was more than mere beginner’s luck.

The truth, Miles. A voice in his head whispered. It sounded like his father’s voice. Aside from Phoenix Wright’s unshakable belief in his clients until the bitter end, ultimately all he cares about is seeking the truth.

He continued to brood.

Now, because of you, Wright, I know about all of the corruption and conspiracies and the fact that I have not necessarily only prosecuted the guilty in the past. I think about the blood on my hands when I take into account many innocent people I may have sent to their deaths or prison, all because of my overzealous nature to try to rid this world of criminals in the Von Karma way. Simply resigning will not wipe the slate of my past sins nor make my guilty conscience clean. Who the hell am I anymore? Now that I have the truth, is it too late? Who will absolve me now? What am I supposed to believe in, or even rely on anymore?!

The barrister lifted his head, struck with a flash of realization

You can always rely on the truth, Miles. The voice said again. Just like your father always told you to. Leave the “arrogant, stuck-up jerk” you once prided on being far behind you, and find out what it truly means to be a prosecutor, and what the term “justice is blind” truly is all about. Improve yourself, seek the truth, and transcend all previously wrong ideals about aiming for a guilty verdict over the actual truth of matters. The Demon Prosecutor is dead. This is your chance to become a better man, one that Gregory Edgeworth would’ve been proud to call his son. A man who is not only worthy of loving Franziska Von Karma but someday be worthy of her love in return.

While he refused to take the coward’s way out and physically end his life, by the same token, Miles knew he wouldn’t have the courage to risk a confrontation that would vanquish his humility by telling everyone about his departure. The only way he could leave everything behind so he could focus on his newfound goals that his epiphany had brought about would be to discourage anyone from looking for them.

Before he lost his nerve, he shut up from his desk and began randomly stuffing items into his briefcase, before hastily penning his final swan song note, right on top of his

“Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth chooses death.”

It wasn’t an outright lie. The Demon Prosecutor ceased to exist as far as he was concerned. He lifted his head and felt a slight smile playing upon his lips for the first time in forever as he exited the building, feeling a gigantic weight finally being lifted from his shoulders as he commenced the path of his self-redemption.

“On My Own”

Franziska Von Karma
Prosecutor’s Office, Germany
June 20, 2017

Katharina Rudolf wondered if she would ever see her younger sister smile again. It had been nearly four months since the shocking news of their adopted brother’s suicide. She’d also known how Franziska had secretly felt about Miles and had anticipated her to grieve just as much, if not more than she was at the loss. But what worried her more, than the perpetual mourning state that her younger sibling was still in, was Franziska’s unwavering air of regret, guilt, and self-loathing that seemed nowhere near abating.

“I know you loved him, little one,” the elder sister had susurrated. “I did, as well. However, continuously lashing yourself like this in such a manner and blaming yourself is not going to bring Miles back to us.”

“You know not of what you speak, Schwester!” Franziska had wailed piteously. “The last time I saw him, it was just after Christmas and I said some terrible things to him, which I cannot take back! It is far too late for me to make amends to him now, do you not understand?”

“Well, surely Miles knew not to take your words to heart. He was no stranger to your tempestuous ways.” Overly familiar with her sister’s fiery temper, the blonde’s expression grew wary. “What did you say to him, exactly?”

“I told him to leave the house and never return,” Franziska whispered, her tears soaking her sister’s blouse as Katharina wrapped her arms around her. “I told him I did not care what happened to him because I was so angry about Papa!”

The good doctor heaved a heavy sigh.

“Miles knew you very well, little one. I am certain sure he knew you did not mean those things you said in a fit of anger.”

“I never told him I loved him!” Franziska wept. “Now he will never know! He died thinking that I despised him!”

The psychologist sighed soundlessly and proceeded to make gentle soothing sounds as she held the distraught, hysterical prosecutor in her arms for the rest of the night.

Despite Katharina’s kind reassurances and pacifying words, Franziska refused to be consoled. As time elapsed, regret inundated her consciousness like the unhurried, frigid waves sweeping across a shallow shoreline. Each wave possessed an icy chill that sent shivers coursing down her spine. She yearned to rewind time, to choose an alternate path, yet such a prospect had become an unattainable reverie. The irreversible nature of her choices dawned on her, and a palpable sense of remorse became an unwelcome companion, an affliction to endure each passing day. In her anguish, she found herself envying the stoic pebbles that, though hard and lifeless, remained blissfully immune to the tumultuous torments of life.

I hate myself for the way I left things between us the last time I saw him. I still think he was a foolish fool to take Phoenix Wright’s side in what happened to Papa, but ultimately he was not the one to blame, and I shall take my revenge on him in court tomorrow. It is I who is guilty of the proverbial killing the messenger and lashing out at the only man I’ve ever loved or ever will love like a deranged lunatic!

The weight of guilt didn’t rest upon her chest; rather, it found residence deep within her mind. The irreversible actions she had taken haunted her, immune to any undoing. While she sought avenues for subtle amends, the prospect of confession remained an insurmountable barrier, even in the confessional with her priest. Only in the quietude of her prayers could she lay bare her heart to God, fervently pleading for His mercy.

Doubting her worthiness of the Lord’s love, she clung to it, tethering the tattered shreds of her sanity to this divine affection. Amid her prayers, she grappled with the hope that someday she might feel absolved of her sin of Wrath, cleansed and purified. Yet, the guilt persisted as an indelible stain, an unsightly scar etched upon her soul. Despite this, she pressed on, holding fast to the belief in redemption and rebirth, determined to consign her past deeds to history and forge ahead.

And now I’m all alone again nowhere to turn, no one to go to
Without a home without a friend without a face to say hello to
And now the night is near
Now I can make believe he’s here

Things had shifted in her life, and somehow her office often made her feel like it was going to suffocate her. Her one anchor of consistency in life, Miles Edgeworth, had been taken from her, by his own hand, it seemed, and it had shaken her world right down to its core. True, she had blamed him for always leaving her behind, even when they still had been kids, but he had lost all he had back then, and he had been much older. In hindsight, it’d probably been completely normal for him to have always been two steps ahead, and act in a manner that he had. Regardless, despite all these factors, the two of them had still managed to always be there for each other when life had been especially hard.

Sometimes I walk alone at night
When everybody else is sleeping
I think of him and then I’m happy
With the company, I’m keeping
The city goes to bed
And I can live inside my head

A small part of her held Mile Edgeworth responsible for her own misery, and that part of her was furious. For such a deep emotion to appear was a miracle, as she had felt nothing but grief for the past few weeks, and it gave her purpose. She wasn’t going to just sit down and give up. Her life would continue without the man she loved because she, Franziska Von Karma, would make it. Now that she was all alone, with nothing but her father’s teachings to hold onto, she would remain strong somehow, and she would prevail.

In the rain, the pavement shines like silver
All the lights are misty in the river
In the darkness, the trees are full of starlight

And all I see is him and me forever and forever

She threw herself headfirst into her work, the one part of her life that she had full control over, and completely immersed herself. In her office and the courtroom, she could lose herself in the whirlwind world of law and allowed herself to forget about anything that might plague her thoughts, and concentrate on doing what she did best. She pressured herself further to excel, not only because it was all she knew, but also because there was a part of her that believed it was the only thing she was good at. She was well aware that unlike Miles and her father, she was no genius, and this knowledge made her believe even more that she would fail should she ever stop doing what she had been taught to do so thoroughly.

“Excel at everything you do. Von Karma’s are perfect by default.” The mantra still resonated in her head, and combined with the Von Karma motto: “To be perfect in every way.” Franziska had extremely high expectations for herself, and she expected no less from those surrounding her. She had always been praised for her hard work, which had validated everything she had learned, and encouraged her to go down the path she had chosen.

Chosen?  Oh please, Franziska! Why must you keep lying to yourself, when there is nobody else around? You never chose this path; it was chosen for you! All these expectations you have heaped upon yourself have been ingrained into you since childhood, and you have readily accepted them, without question, because it’s all you’ve ever known! You are Franziska Von Karma. You are ruthless, you are fearless, and you make people respect you out of their fear of you!

And I know it’s only in my mind
That I’m talking to myself and not to him
And although I know that he is blind
Still, I say, there’s a way for us

Nobody knew who she really was behind the domineering whip and mask of faultlessness behind the wall of perfection and success she had built around her over the years. Nobody knew the scared, sensitive young woman that lay beneath the surface, with a hidden vulnerability that she knew her opponents would prey upon should they ever be privy to it. The only person that had ever seen her in such a state, and been the shoulder she’d so needed to cry on had been Miles. And now he was gone from this word, and he’d taken her heart with him.

I love him
But when the night is over
He is gone
The river’s just a river
Without him
The world around me changes
The trees are bare and everywhere
The streets are full of strangers

Contrary to the belief that time heals all wounds, they are mistaken. This pain, a relentless force, refuses to relent. It has carved a profound and bloody void within my heart. With any luck, as time unfolds, I may discover ways to navigate around it, maybe even relegate it to the recesses of my mind. Yet, upon revisitation, it will resurface—a searing, crimson reminder that endures until the final breath escapes my lips.

When the news report reached her ears for the first time, she found herself stationed at her workplace, seated at her desk. A part of her initial response dismissed it as an enormous conspiracy theory, while an equally potent part screamed that the grim reality was true – her Little Brother had taken his own life, a notion inconceivable and senseless. The passing minutes, however, saw devastation precede shock, and in a parallel to this very moment, she enacted the same ritual. Crossing her arms on the desk, she lowered her head onto it, succumbing to tears that mirrored the grief she felt when her Mama had departed.

Her sobbing was akin to a child who had been forcefully stripped of what mattered most in her life. At that moment, she hadn’t bothered to check whether the door was locked – such details held no significance. She was engulfed in a sense of helpless despair, a state of being beyond heartbroken.

I love him
But every day I’m learning
All my life
I’ve only been pretending
Without me
His world would go on turning
A world that’s full of happiness
That I have never known

Love was cruel and she felt like the most foolish of fools for having fallen into it, for it excruciatingly mauled and maimed at your innards until there was nothing left within. To have the man she’d loved snatched away from her, and by his own hand, was pure torture. It was nearly unfathomable that Miles’s death could affect her as much as it did, and that one man’s destruction could cause her own.

I love him
I love him
I love him
But only on my own

She’d called in sick for the next two days, something that was unheard of for her, and just allowed herself to sleep around the clock. She even let Helga fawn and fuss over her, allowing the kindly maid to fix her as many calorie-laden meals as she could ever digest because she knew she needed to have a clear head and as much strength and health as possible to get through this. She would not allow herself to spiral down that treacherous path! The tender pampering of the household staff had been just what she needed to return to work with a vengeance!

Franziska had thrown herself into her job headfirst, like a woman possessed, taking on heavier and more intense caseloads until she was working 12 to 14-hour days around the clock, and found the grueling task was just what she needed. A lot to do meant little time to think. When she had a spare moment, she found herself thinking of her lost love. Once or twice, she saw a flash of magenta coming around the corner and fooled herself into believing it would be him, returning, only to be crushed when it turned out to be somebody else. Each time she realized that it wasn’t just further sunk her into a deeper and deeper level of depression. So, to compensate, she would work herself even harder to stop the pain from creeping up on her again. Work was more cathartic than she could have ever dreamed, and she realized that loved her job nearly as much as she’d loved Miles.

Something sparked within her. It wasn’t quite positivity or even joyful sanguinity, nor a new understanding or clearer perception of why, or anything. It was a little flame of anger, and it gave her purpose. She wasn’t going to just sit down and give up. Her life would continue without the man she loved because she would damn well make it!

The epiphany startled her. Miles was gone. It was tragic but true. But she was still alive. She was alive, she was Franziska Von Karma, and she needed to rejoin the land of the living!

After that, life improved slightly. Her hard work at the prosecutor’s office was praised and recognized, and four months after Miles’ demise, a case had, at last, come up in Los Angeles, which, when presented the opportunity, she had leaped at the chance to take!

The very next day, she would finally have her chance to prosecute her first-ever case in the United States, against Phoenix Wright, the foolish fool would dare sully the Von Karma name! Her thirst for revenge would finally be quenched, both on Miles for leaving her like this by defeating the man who had ruined his perfect record, as well against the man who had sent her father to death row!

Every dog has its day.

She had wanted to be recognized as being at the top of her profession, and she got it. She had wanted vengeance, and now it would be hers. Whenever Franziska Von Karma wanted something – she went and got it!

Alas, there was only one thing she’d ever wanted that could never be.

It was also the reason why, the night before her California courtroom debut, the German woman had dissolved into another bout of sobbing at her desk at the Los Angeles Prosecutor’s Office.

Because most of all, more than anything in the world – Franziska wanted Miles back.

Manowar – Heart Of Steel
Les Miserables – On My Own