71 Shattered Dreams

“Life is but a roaming shadow, a pitiable thespian who struts and frets his few moments upon the stage and then is heard no more. It is a tale imparted by a foolish wit, full of noise and fury… yet meaningless nonetheless. A beautiful lie. A depressing truth. Beyond the hedgerows and white picket fence, new graves lie, with daisies or buttercups for the deceased. We come from Mother Earth, born naked and vulnerable; we return to her embrace as the same simple beings, sending our spirits to our Father above.”

Miles Edgeworth and Lana Skye
Konigsfeld im Schwarzwald, God’s Acre Cemetery, Germany
February 22, 2025, 3:00 PM

The day of the funeral arrived, and Miles found himself dressed in his black suit pants and jacket, preparing to leave in a black car that had come from nowhere, surrounded by people he could only pay half mind to. A small handful of supporters and friends would be there at his side, people he’d known for years, but in his current state of mind, he knew he’d hardly register any of them. A grave had been dug close to the lane that ran the length of the cemetery. He didn’t say a word as the black Rolls Royce drew up and the driver exited swiftly, opening the back door for him to get out.

Lana, who’d been sitting silently next to him, reached over and gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

“Lang and the others will already be there,” she said softly. “He insisted I ride over with you so that you wouldn’t have to come alone. Your sister-in-law and everyone else wanted me to convey that they will be here very shortly and they just wanted you to arrive earlier so you could maybe have a few extra moments …”

“I’m fine, Lana,” he replied stiffly, standing like a statue outside the car while he waited for the driver to extend a hand and help her exit. “There’s no need to concern yourself.”

The Agent bit her lip, unsure of what to say further. There was no predicting how Miles was going to act or react under these circumstances, and she had no desire to rock the boat. All she wanted to do was be there for him and support him, and she had no idea how best to do so in these tragic circumstances.

She’d never felt more hapless or useless in her life. This was just as bad as that fateful day they’d found out the news.

Her mind flashed back to that horrible event a week ago in the hospital waiting room… right before the doctor had arrived…

Lana Skye and Interpol Agents
Emergency Unit, Hospital, Germany
February 15, 2025, 11:00 AM

The atmosphere in the waiting room wasn’t much better than the frigid air outside, where it was so brittle it could snap, and if it didn’t, one of the agents feared they might; they were all that on edge.

Nobody spoke. What was there to say? Further platitudes wouldn’t cut it right now, would do little good to ease the terrible burden of worry. While they all cared for Franziska, none of them could even fathom what was going through Miles’ mind at that moment. After all, beyond those doors, fighting for their lives … was his unborn child and his future wife, the love of his life and keeper of his heart – not just some nameless patient who was facing life or death peril. In this suspended horror that they all willed to end, and to last an eternity at the same time, each of their hearts was heavy and their minds filled with torment, while their eyes were still scanning for medical personnel who could answer the endless, excruciating questions. Any minute, any second, they could know, and then decide whether to cheer the roof right off or all suffer the resonating pain together, which would undoubtedly engulf them entirely. There was not a person in that room who wanted anything but a happy miracle for Franziska and the baby, yet it was Miles the one who might have required sedation if he lost them.

And so they all sat. Worrying. Wondering. Hoping. Praying.

Then the doctor, at last, came out.

“Miles Edgeworth?”

The doctor spoke into his ear, but not loud enough for any of them to fully overhear.

They didn’t need to.

The lawyer fell apart, right there and then, in front of their astounded, distressed eyes.

Lana and the rest were forced to watch this dignified, often aloof, man, one of renowned, enviable self-control, who had forever been, regardless of what life had thrown at him, the epitome of poise and strength in all avenues, completely crumble to pieces before them.

And they could do nothing but helplessly watch.

When the once stoic and proud Miles began to weep, his pain was almost physically infectious to experience just from witnessing it; like seeing a tortured animal suffering from a raw, gaping wound. His trembling hands desperately reached out for the steady surface of a nearby wall for support, and his entire body convulsed with the force of his grief. The sobs were stifled at first as he attempted to hide his anguish, then overcome by the wave of his grief, he broke down entirely as he fell to his knees, all his resistances washed away in those rivulets gushing down his face in endless streams.

Not knowing what else to do, Lana and Kay rushed to his side, each crouching down next to the overwhelmed barrister on that cold floor and enveloping his quaking form from either side, holding him close while he wept inconsolably.

Badd had yanked the flustered doctor aside, demanding answers, his voice tight with barely suppressed emotions as he demanded clarity to the unintentional, but misleading, words of devastation he’d just uttered to the utterly broken man who had collapsed in a heap at their feet.

“Mr. Edgeworth, I’m very sorry – we did all we could to save them both, but unfortunately that wasn’t possible…”

Then the rest of his words had been lost as Miles had promptly crumbled like a napkin right there and then, too distraught to understand the rest of what the doctor was trying to convey.

“What the hell happened?” Badd demanded harshly, grabbing the doctor and yanking him away from the shattered attorney, whom he was still trying to talk to, only to have his words falling on deafened ears. The flatfoot glowered at the smaller man murderously. “What did you say to him? Forget trying to talk to him right now – can’t you see he’s a bloody wreck?! Did you just tell him that neither his wife nor daughter…”

He couldn’t even bring himself to even say the words.

The medic shook his head nervously, dismay and terror on his face at the intense look in the large man’s eyes.

“No – no, Herr, I did not,” he stammered. “Not intentionally. I had initially spoken to him in German and I’m afraid something got lost in translation…”

“Well, obviously you’re capable of speaking Englisch!” Lang barked, glaring at the resident as he stormed up behind the two. “So go ahead and tell us what you meant to tell him, but evidently, didn’t manage to convey properly – you goddamn quack!”

At the sight of the incensed Wolf Man, the poor resident nearly wet himself. While the towering burly detective was a threatening enough presence, the feral-looking Interpol Agent was an even more disturbing force to be reckoned with.

“I apologize for mein choice of wording!” The doctor rasped desperately. “Herr Edgeworth didn’t allow me to finish the sentence! As I tried to convey, while we did all we could to save them both, unfortunately, that wasn’t possible. There were complications during the emergency caesarian. I’m very sorry, but the baby… she didn’t make it.”

Lang closed his eyes as he sucked a deep, shuddering breath at the distressing news, requiring Badd to take over again.

“And what about Franziska…?” He asked despairingly, struggling to keep his voice even.

“Although she’s lost a lot of blood, and we are trying to get her blood pressure down, she will be fine,” the doctor assured the detective, focusing his attention on the slightly less terrifying of the men. “She’s heavily sedated now and will need to stay here a few nights until we can stabilize her vitals and get her a transfusion and let her stitches heal. She’s got a very rare blood type but luckily we have enough in stock.”

The physician glanced back nervously at Miles, who was now slumped against Kay’s shoulder while still being sandwiched between both her and Lana in a comforting embrace.

“Er, will he be alright? Would you mind relaying this to him, as I need to get back to the patient…”

“Don’t worry, we can make sure we get the correct information to the poor man, you Dummkopf!” Lang snarled. “I’ll go out on a limb and deduce communications course is required for you quacks in medical school!”

The doctor cowered slightly, and despite his own sadness, Badd took pity on the man and somehow managed to speak in a slightly less gruff, imposing tone now.

“Just go take care of Franziska,” he told the physician, jerking his thumb back in the direction of the Emergency Unit. “We’ll all be here for Miles.”

The doctor didn’t need to be told twice. Within the blink of an eye, he’d already hastily disappeared down the hall, in a rapid blur of white coat and green scrubs, leaving the poleaxed Interpol staff to contend with the devastated prosecutor.

Miles Edgeworth and Lana Skye
Konigsfeld im Schwarzwald, God’s Acre Cemetery, Germany
February 22, 2025, 3:00 PM

Lana stepped out of the vehicle and stood there next to him, trying to scrutinize her ex’s countenance but he kept his head turned away from her.

“Miles, please, don’t do this,” she whispered. “Let me be here for you, as you were for me.”

He remained silent.

“Miles,” her tone was beseeching. “Miles, look at me.”

When he, at last, turned his face to the brunette, her heart lurched at the beleaguered look in that grey gaze.

In spite of his attempted stolid tone earlier, his expression was a picture of grief, loss, and desolation. It was the face of one who had suffered previously and didn’t know if he could do it again. Then, just when she thought the breakthrough would come and he would trust her with his vulnerability, the shutters would come down, and his emotion walled off behind a mask of coping. He would just wear it until everything was right again, he didn’t know another way.

“We expect to bury our parents one day, Lana,” he whispered brokenly. “But – never our children.”

“I know.” She nodded and swallowed the lump in her throat, looking at him with compassionate eyes. “My aches for you, my friend. For both of you.”

Neither of them spoke.

“We should head in,” he told her, putting on a pair of dark sunglasses in a vain attempt to mask the sorrow in his eyes. “Franziska wanted to ensure she and I didn’t arrive here together, so it won’t be respectful to her wishes if she and Katharina pull up now with us still standing here at the entrance, so let’s go.” Without looking behind him to see if she was following him or not then, he strode on ahead.

To enter the cemetery he first needed to skirt around a pile of brown frosted leaves, the innumerable flashing fragments shining in the brilliant wintry light, for today there was no weather; no wind, no cloud, just subzero temperatures. Even the leaf stems lay white and sharp. Ahead the path glistened like white quartz, yet ice crystals on weary concrete were all it was. All this beauty over everything dead. And here he was to add to it, with a bunch of yellow buttercups in his hand.

He paused, waiting for Lana to catch up to his long strides in her dressy heels, his breath rising in visible puffs, then he remembered why he’d come. He needed to pay his respects to his daughter, Carol, his mother’s namesake, prior to them being separated by six feet of earth, while he could still imagine her: whole, tiny, cherubic, and perfect, lying there as if only sleeping.

Along the wide central avenue, the convoy of black limousines was already stationary and there was already a small group of people who he wasn’t sure he would be able to face – some, he was certain, like Franziska, and possibly her sister, who possibly didn’t want to see his face. After all, he was the man who had lied, albeit mostly with honorable intentions, to protect the mother of his child and the life inside of her, from any stress or upset by sweeping his sundry past details under a rug, only to have instead annihilated the trust between them in the process.

All in vain. In end, no matter what his objective had been, it had all been for nothing! That was one of the most earth-shattering aspects of all.

The DA still loved his fiancée entirely, for both the good and the bad, and desperately wanted to be there for her and comfort her in this darkest hour for them both.

Alas, it was not even a remote possibility.

Because it was glaringly, excruciatingly evident that somehow, for this loss, Franziska blamed him. Moreover, she utterly despised him now, if anything, more so now, than even before the tragedy.

For the rest of his days, Miles knew he would be plagued by the haunted, accusing look in her eyes when he’d seen her right after she’d woken up that fateful day at the hospital…

Miles Edgeworth and Franziska Von Karma
Hospital, Germany
February 15, 2025, 2:00 PM

He’d had three hours to pull himself together since he’d been relayed the cataclysmic news. To dry his tears, call Katharina, and put on his most ascetic expression for the sake of his friends, who had not left his side, and were still there in the waiting room, knowing, although he would never be able to convey, that he needed them.

Miles stopped hesitantly at the door of his fiancée’s ward. He’d been told she’d finally awakened from her sedation but hadn’t been certain if she was awake yet, or been told what had happened.

Her eyes met his the moment he stepped in and that was when he realized he wouldn’t be the one forced to relay the horrible message to her.

She already knew.

The district attorney had never seen his betrothed look this way before, not even when Manfred had died. Her eyes had a deadness, a stillness. The girl who, at least with him, had laughed often, the one who had been his long-time lover and friend had developed a hardness. It was as if he could read everything she blamed in for in one extended glare and forgiveness wasn’t an option anymore. Perhaps if they’d saved Carol, got to her faster, things would have been different between them…

“Franziska…”

Her eyes were a knife in his ribs, the sharp point digging deeper. Where there had been love was an emptiness, but not in any vulnerable sense. Uncomfortable with the void, she appeared to have filled it with an emotion she was infinitely more at ease with – raw anger. The unmoving gaze was accompanied by deliberate slow breathing. It was as if she was fighting something back and losing.

“How could you, Miles?”

He stared at her speechlessly, utterly stunned. He’d expected grieving, of course, but not this… cold, incriminating, fury emanating from her, as her icy gray eyes bored into him.

“The doctors told me you were given the choice between me and Carol.” Franziska stared daggers at him. “You were given the chance to save me or our daughter yet you failed to make what should have been such an obvious decision! How could you not know, if given the option, that I would have chosen to have saved our child, you foolish fool!”

Her voice broke then.

“My baby. My poor, sweet baby…”

“Franziska … how could I make such a choice?” Miles cried, still dumbfounded by her anger, even as her eyes raked him with scorn. “I didn’t tell them not to save the baby – I begged and pleaded with them to save you both! I couldn’t choose between you two!”

“Well, you should have!” She buried her head in her hands. “I wish it had been me that had died! What life is there for me now to live, if I have to go through it without my precious daughter?”

“Meine Dame…” He walked over to the bed and went to put his hand on her shoulder, but she slapped it away, her voice rising to a shrill, nearly hysterical, pitch.

“Do not dare to touch me!”

“Stop this, Franziska,” a familiar voice spoke then, quietly but firmly.

The heartbroken pair glanced up and met the saddened but steady gaze of Katharina Rudolf, who had arrived at last.

“Schwester,” the younger Von Karma whispered shakily, tears filling her eyes at the sight of her beloved elder sister.

The blonde strode in swiftly, pausing only long enough to give Miles a consoling pat on the arm and a quick kiss on the cheek, then engulfed her younger sibling into her arms. Franziska sagged against her, burying her head against the older woman’s chest like a young child, while the psychologist soothingly stroked the satiny silver head.

“My heart aches for your loss, little one,” Katharina murmured, placing a kiss on top of Franziska’s head. “But I cannot allow you to use Miles as your whipping boy. It is just as much his loss as it is your own, and he bears no fault whatsoever for this senseless tragedy. The doctors told me what happened. There was naught they could do for the child. It was already too late.”

The grieving parents silently stared at her, trying to understand. The psychologist shook her head sadly as she elaborated.

“Unfortunately, dear sister, on top of the polyhydramnios, which was causing the excess swelling, it seemed near the end, you were a victim of preeclampsia, which was the most likely cause of the placental abruption, which caused the excess bleeding. It was why they opted for emergency caesarian… to try to save the baby,
but …”

Her voice trailed off as she shook her head sorrowfully while regarding her sister, then Miles, with somber orbs shining with love and sympathy.

“I am so sorry, both of you, for this tragic loss.”

The barrister swallowed hard. He didn’t trust himself to speak.

Franziska jerked her head up, her eyes wild as she looked first at him, then back at her sister.

“I am a bad person, am I not, Schwester?” She asked frantically. “That means all this was my fault then – I am to blame! That is why I’m being punished like this, thus. How else to explain the loss of not one, but two daughters already, in less than five years?”

“Franziska, Was in Gottes Namen …” Katharina was so shocked she was at a loss for words. “How can you even think…”

“Meine Dame!” He gasped in horror. “Please, don’t speak in such a manner! Of course, you are not a bad person…”

The forlorn mother shook her head stubbornly, her voice rising again to a fevered pitch as she regarded them with troubled, agonized eyes.

“No, no, I surely must have been a bad person,” she insisted stubbornly. “It is all my fault these hardships have befallen me! Such must be my penance for all those that I have whipped; my karmic retribution for all the times I have yelled, hit, and threatened those who were often undeserving of my wrath…”

“Sweet girl…” Katharina’s eyes were brimming with tears of heartfelt sympathy. “Bitte! Please do not torture yourself like this!”

“And Gott only knows what other sins I have committed that I am not paying mind to at this moment!” Franziska cried. She clutched her sibling’s sleeves while staring up at her, then swiveled sightless grief-struck eyes at her partner as she continued her crazed ramblings, wrenching Miles’s heart with her words.

“To come so close to pure love and lose it so violently is something no medication can heal. I held our baby girl when she came into this world, a gift from God above, a new angel for Earth, and then I was told even as I rejoiced in holding her in my arms, thereafter, I must now mourn her and find a coffin for her to be placed in instead of a bassinet. All I shall have left of her now is whatever we readied for her in the nursery that was once our home, as her soul has fled back to the creator.”

Her lips trembled.

“My heart is broken, what beats in my chest is merely a mass of angry muscle that will function only to pump blood in my veins, for I have nothing else left within me. Carol … she should have had a life, love, music, and dance! She should have been the one weeping at my graveside with her husband and children about her, not the other way around!”

And with those gut-twisting words uttered, the heartbroken Frau collapsed in her sibling’s proffered arms then, and finally released the pent-up floodgates of sorrow. She wept as though there was too much raw pain inside her to be confined; as if the ferociousness of the deluge emptying down her cheeks could somehow bring her baby back to her; as if by the sheer force of her woe, the outcome could be undone. She cried like her spirit needed to be liberated from her flesh, frantic to release elemental wrath upon this cruel, unjust world. The soothing words of her sister made no difference at all. She was beyond all reason, beyond all-natural methods of calming.

She wasn’t even aware that Miles had left the room, awash in fresh tears of his own rekindled grief.

Miles Edgeworth
Konigsfeld im Schwarzwald, God’s Acre Cemetery, Germany
February 22, 2025, 3:00 PM

Grief is a painful and all-consuming emotion that can be difficult to bear. It is an emptiness of lost love with nowhere to go. It consumes your soul and feels like it’s slowly killing you from the inside. It’s a heavy weight on your shoulders that feels like the whole world is resting on you and there is nothing you can do to escape it. It’s a hole in your heart that is shaped like the loved one you lost, and it makes you want to wipe away the phantom tears that keep threatening to fall, but you are unable to muster them.

The wretchedness of the endless mourning came in waves and threatened to consume him entirely. It was his master, for now. He was at the mercy of its whims and at times it bit at him with such ferocity he feared it would leave him an empty shell.

The sun shone brilliantly. Its glare was offensively bright and cheerful. It was as if it conspired to show him how the world would go on without his precious little angel. It shouldn’t. Everything should have been as grey and foggy as his emotions, it should have been cold and damp with silent air. But the birds still sang and the flowers still bloomed. He walked through the grounds like a silhouette of himself, wishing he was as insubstantial as the shadows so that his insides might not feel so mangled. As he neared the designated spot, behind his sunglasses, he found he could no longer hold back tears that had already begun to flow. Furious with himself, he yanked off the shades and buried his head in his hands, this time not turning away from the comforting hands that were placed on his shoulders.

He was not ashamed. Carol had been as much his daughter as Franziska’s. She’d been planned for and wanted, and he’d loved her. Now that she was gone, a light had been extinguished forever in his heart.

He stood in his silent mourning and awaited the start of the funeral service.

Franziska Von Karma and Miles Edgeworth
Konigsfeld im Schwarzwald, God’s Acre Cemetery, Germany
February 22, 2025, 3:15 PM

Franziska silently stared out the tinted windows of the limousine as it pulled up to the cemetery, barely registering her sister squeezing her hand. Katharina had been staying at the mansion ever since her arrival a week ago, while Anneliese, who was still in school, was staying with her father in Switzerland during her mother’s absence.

This is one of the cruel realities of life, that even when we feel like we can’t go on, our hearts continue to beat and carry us forward. It is a pitiless irony that a heart can continue to beat even after it has been broken into pieces. It can feel like it is being squeezed in an icy vice and ache as if it will burst in your chest, yet the ticking goes on.

Before exiting the car and making her way over the frozen turf, she took her sorrow and balled it up so tight none could escape. She was out of tears. There was no longer any point in weeping over a child God had not allowed her to bring to this world and had not even allowed her to love in life, so in death, it should have been no different. She felt like a zombie as she stepped out of the limo. She’d had no mind as she’d cast on her designer black dress and applied her eyeliner earlier. Every movement for the past week had been methodical … and yet automatically robotic at the same time.

She was unprepared for the frigid wintry air that invaded her lungs and stung her eyes. Her eyes welled up and tears streaked down her face, her lips trembling until she bit them and threw back her shoulders, marching next to her sister as her tears dried on her cheeks, head bowed, ignoring the searing pain of her abdominal stitches the brisk movements caused – she’d refused to take the recommended wheelchair for this trip until she was healed! – before standing and taking her place across from Miles and amongst the official mourners.

Her fiancé tried to catch her eye and she nodded her greeting, but she couldn’t look into his anguished face, knowing his tormented expression mirrored her own. It was just too much for her to bear.

The minister wore empathy like his morning coat, only for work. It wasn’t that he was an unsympathetic or callous person, quite the opposite, but he had to find a way to protect himself from being emotionally drained by constant sadness. Stepping into the world of grieving day after day would have taken a toll on him. He had seen more bodies laid to rest and more souls returned to the Lord than most people saw sunsets. Today was no different. As the mourners gathered in the windy graveyard, he displayed a controlled expression of sadness as he began to read a passage.

Despite her resolve to remain dry-eyed, Franziska felt her eyes become wet, yet she didn’t realize she was crying until her ribs began to heave like they suddenly weighed too much to allow breathing.

There will always be a part of me still at her funeral, listening to the hymn, “The Lord is my Shepard.” It’s the part that refuses to let her go, that needs our bond to extend past our mortal life together, which was cruelly cut too short.

Miles lost his struggle to hold back the grieving. The droplets flowed steadily, silently, down his immobile face. He felt bruised inside, numbness, emptiness, standing by that tiny mahogany coffin, saying goodbye, although little Carol was gone already, the soul unwilling to acknowledge the finality of death, never to be able to look upon her parents’ faces or feel their embrace, see the warmth in their eyes, be surrounded by their love. Words from the cleric and Katharina’s speech at the service brought a fresh onslaught of tears, well-spoken words, a tribute to this tiny life that would have been given a lifetime of love. His hands shook as he placed his flowers, along with the swarm of daisies and dusky pink roses, on the casket, watching the mini box be lowered into the grave through tear-stained eyes.

Goodbye, my sweet angel. You’ll have both your grandmas to look after you in heaven now.

It was too overwhelming. The emptiness in his heart, the dullness pounding his brain, the salty rivulets that flowed unchecked from his eyes, and the sheer nothingness that now took hold of his soul, threatened to engulf him. His legs buckled, knees sinking into the sodden earth as he watched the casket lowered to its final resting place

At the sight of her normally kept-together, indomitable fiancé unraveling at the seams before her very eyes, for the first time, something inside Franziska snapped then, and she too, came undone at that moment.

It was more than crying, it was a hopeless sobbing that drained all energy from her body. Her legs gave out and she collapsed to her knees at the small grave, not caring about the muddy ground that stained her dress. Her tears mixed with the rain that had just started to fall, and her gasping cries echoed through the graveyard. The pain that flowed from her was as real as the cold winter wind, and in a moment, Miles was by her side, holding her sobbing body in his strong arms while he struggled to keep his own tears at bay. He looked up to the sky and beyond, hoping that his baby was safe, warm, and comfortable up there. To imagine her cold and alone in a box was more than he could bear. He needed to believe that she was still with them, even if it was only in spirit.

Franziska had always been so self-conscious when she bawled, but now she just gave way to the enormity of her misery. She howled shrilly into her hands, unable to cease the endless liquid beads dripping between her fingers, raining down onto the parched soil. Her breathing was ragged, gasping. She couldn’t even feel the grit that dug into her knees. She was vociferous, her face was blotchy and she didn’t give a damn that everyone at the service was a firsthand witness to her delirious grief. She sobbed until no more tears came, but still, the desolation and sorrowfulness lingered.

Miles wept until nothing was remaining but a raw barrenness that gnawed at his insides like a rapacious rodent. His burning irises bore a lattice of red and his eyeballs felt heavy in their sockets. His entire body felt as stiff as a statue and each limb weighed as heavily as freshly poured concrete; every movement felt like it required superhuman strength, and even breathing was a laborious, painful effort.

Above them, just as quickly as it had come, the rain had abated. The clouds parted and the sun now shone in the sky. But not for him. The birds sang in bursts of melody. But not for him. For him, there was no beauty left in the world.

For his heart wasn’t merely broken, it was a shadow of what it was … and only fading a little more and more with each passing day.

A/N: In case you’re wondering what Mildred aka The Dragon Lady and pretty boy Longines look like – she may look familiar!

Mildew: https://i.imgur.com/CAm3RJG.jpg
Longines: https://i.imgur.com/tbRY3ha.jpg

Johnny Hates Jazz – Shattered Dreams