Limits of Perfection

Chapter 1:

Perfect Thoughts

Author's note: Okay…you know the drill. I don't own Phoenix Wright games or characters…and if I did, I'd be swimming in my own pool of money (which would be shaped like a dollar bill!)

"No matter what, a Von Karma is perfect! They have only one destiny to fulfill…and that is what runs in their bloodline…to carry out perfection. You, Franziska…you carry the Von Karma name, and perfection is what you shall achieve. You will NEVER disgrace this family with a SINGLE failure! If you do, so help me, I shall disown you as my daughter! You will be no child of mine… A Von Karma is perfect."

"You lack evidence! Show me proof, Franziska! Show me proof that you can solve this case! You are to inherit the Von Karma name as a prosecutor! You're slacking off! What, have I been too easy on you? Is that it?! You will NOT disgrace this family! A Von Karma is perfect!"

"You. You little WRETCH! Has my giving you this life not ever been good enough for you, that you defy me so?! Give me that whip, Franziska! I'll beat it into you, if I have to! Tell me now…tell me! TELL ME A VON KARMA IS PERFECT!!"

"A Von Karma is perfect! A Von Karma is perfect! A Von Karma is perfect!"

Franziska shouted at the top of her lungs, as she sat straight up in bed, her eyes wide, and sweat dripping from her brow. Her hands clenched the sage green bed sheets, which lay in disarray all over her bed and some drooping down onto the floor. It was a moment before she realized that she had been holding her breath after coming back to reality. She let go of the sheets, only to run her hands through her locks of hair. She was really surprised it had grown back well…considering what her father's temper did to her… But she still knew every inch of her body. And she knew where the scars and other various marks that never seemed to go away, hid.

The digital clock on her dresser flashed the time to be 12:00 AM. The numbers were blinking, and Franziska assumed that the power must have gone out or she must have unplugged the clock for some reason, earlier. The German prosecutor grabbed hold of the sheets once more, and seemed to sink into the bed, pulling the covers up to her chin. The first good hours of sleep that she had had in ages, and it had to be full of nightmares…it was rather typical, as much as she hated to admit it. She knew it wasn't true, but Franziska attempted to coax herself into believing that if she went to sleep again, the nightmares that were her childhood, would not reappear again. It was a lie. But then again, she was used to lies. As a prosecutor, she heard them all the time, and spoke them all the time.

"A Von Karma is perfect…A Von Karma is perfect…A Von Karma is perfect…" She repeated that mantra over and over again, until her eyelids became heavy, and her mind began to shut itself down on her, until she was muttering incoherent gibberish up until the time she truly fell asleep.

"Franziska! Come here!" Her father, Manfred Von Karma, stood in his library, clutching his cane tightly, as his voice echoed throughout the Von Karma estate. Normally, within not but two seconds, Franziska would be right in front of him, submitting herself in complete obedience as she should to him. But…there was only silence, and no response. Franziska did not appear. And this made her father's temper soar through the roof. He marched upstairs, each step closer and closer to driving him mad with fury. When he flung open the door to Franziska's room, he saw her there, with her back to him, cracking her whip in front of a mirror, admiring herself as she muttered legal terms under her breath with a confident smirk on her face. "And once you pass the bar exam, Franziska…," she murmured to herself. "You'll be out of here, and away from…F-father!" The German child turned to face her father with a look of sheer horror in her eyes. Her body began to inwardly tremble, as Manfred Von Karma took several deadly steps towards this…this…unforgivable excuse for a daughter who DARED bare his name. For a moment, they stood, face to face, Manfred towering over his daughter, whom he knew was cowering in fear. Pathetic. Franziska expected the worst…she knew to by now. So when her father took her into a half embrace, she was shocked. As she looked up into her father's eyes, something wicked flashed into them, and before she could get away, she felt his knee come up and find its way between them. Franziska felt the wind being knocked out of her as her father's knee became associated with her stomach. She tried to move away, but Manfred had already let go of her, and was now starting his attack against his imperfect daughter. A slap to the face was all it took to send Franziska sprawling onto the floor, on her back, completely vulnerable, and Manfred took his chance while he had it, pinning her down by stepping on her fingers. Hard. "You. You little WRETCH!" Manfred shouted down at the struggling child, who had tears now forming in her eyes from the pain. "Has my giving you this life not ever been good enough for you, that you defy me so?! Give me that whip, Franziska! I'll beat it into you, if I have to!" Franziska was gasping for breath at this point, as her hands were going numb, and she was finally getting the wind back into her. She weakly tried to push the whip towards Manfred, but he only stepped on her fingers harder, hearing the sound of some bones breaking in her hand. Franziska gritted her teeth, knowing the punishment would be much worse if she screamed. She thrashed her head about, trying to contain the pain that was filling her up completely. Manfred stepped off of one of her hands long enough for her to hand him the whip, to execute her own sentence. Manfred stepped off of Franziska's other hand, as he gathered the whip in his hands expertly, and lashed out at his daughter, striking her on the face, as she resisted the urge to scream. "Tell me now…tell me! TELL ME A VON KARMA IS PERFECT!!" Manfred shouted as he began his unrelenting series of strikes that, at the very end of it all, finally broke Franziska. She screamed loud, begging for his mercy, and sobbing hideously on the floor. Her body was tattered, with scars and bruises from before, but with new marks and open, bloodied wounds. Not to mention the breaking or fracturing of her fingers, on her right hand. Manfred raised the whip once more, and as Franziska cowered in fear, a look of disgust snarled across his face. "You're worthless." He muttered, striking his child once more, before flinging the whip onto the floor. Manfred's eyes were still holding an unleashed fury, and he walked over to his daughter, kicking her limp, weak body several times in the shoulder and side, before he left the room, slamming the door behind him.

Franziska woke up again, this time, crying. Her mind was a jumbled mix of things. She couldn't understand why her shoulder throbbed like hell…why she felt so strange, sleeping in this room, and why all she could dream about lately, were events that happened in her past. She looked over at the clock again, only to find that it was still flashing 12:00 AM. Twelve A.M? …but…what day is it? As hard as she struggled, for the life of her, Franziska could not remember what day it was. She couldn't even recall what month…or year it was, for that matter…but she knew…she knew she was Franziska Von Karma…a famous prosecutor, and she remembered everything about her past in great detail…so it was obvious she couldn't have had amnesia. But then why…why did there seem to be a great big hole in her memory from the time she left Germany to…well…the time she was here…wherever here was. As if her own mind didn't wish for her to know this, Franziska felt her eyelids get heavy again, and this time, she succumbed to a peaceful sleep, where there were no nightmares in sight.

Once found that she was resting, the door to her opened emitting a small beam of light that crept its way into the dark chambers of the prosecutor. Most of the light was blocked by the shadow of a man dressed in a magenta colored suit, his hair falling down over his eyes, to hide his emotions, as he watched the woman that he still inwardly called "Big Sister." At least, that how he could only view her…Big Sister…that's what he had called her, despite him being the eldest one of the two. Deeper feelings for her had been submerged when he discovered, to his horror, that these were not the sort of feelings that siblings should share. Not that they were related, mind you, but he had lived with the Von Karma family for so long, it only became natural that he would think of her as only his sister. These dark feelings that he refused to acknowledge, lay hidden within the depths of his soul, and remained. They were the subject of desires and dark nights that, in his present years, left him yearning for her.

She was sleeping peacefully, finally, now, for that he was grateful. But Miles Edgeworth became bolder, and stepped into the room, closing the door behind him, so that only a thin sliver of light from the hallway made itself known. He knelt before the sleeping woman, and brushed a strand of hair from her face. Her expression was troubled; that he knew for sure, but what was running through her mind…was anyone's guess. Still…it was Miles who felt responsible for everything.

BANG!

He remembered how heavy her body seemed to him, when he picked Franziska up off of the sidewalk. Her, such a fragile thing, lying limp in his arms… He didn't mind the blood…but the thought that this was HER blood…that SHE had been shot…For the second time now, someone had tried to take out the Von Karma heir. But this was much worse…Her blood…Big Sis…no, Franziska's blood…

He remembered how a doctor at Hotti Clinic, whom he assumed by the physician's stature and tone of voice, that he was indeed the director and head doctor of Hotti Clinic, and not the insane patient who believed that he WAS the doctor, spoke in that professional "I-have-some-bad-news-but-not-bad-enough-to-make-you-cry-oh-wait-yeah-you-are-gonna-cry-never-mind" tone of voice.

"She doesn't remember much…we're pretty sure the shock that her body received from being shot at again has trigger it…at best, she has most of her past memories intact, but…I don't think she'll remember anything as of about five years ago. Sir, quite frankly, I don't think she'll even remember you." The doctor had stated to Miles, while grabbing his golf clubs, and heading out the door for tee time. Miles had stood there for what seemed like ages, trying to process everything in his mind, before he left, wordlessly, and hollow.

Author's note: So? What did you think? R&R and let me know what your thoughts are! Flamers, beware...I don't care what you have to say, and if you don't like it, don't continue reading it! Other than that, comments and criticism (constructive) is always welcome!