I've written a few oneshots and stories for Ace Attorney, but usually, I like to write fun (and random) pieces. This one is a little different from my usual, I guess. I'll just leave it at that. I hope you like it!

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Ace Attorney series characters!

It would appear that the caretaker is still doing an excellent job with maintaining the graves here. A 35 year old man dressed in burgundy stood in front of a gravestone. It was cement gray with a few cracks here and there along with some vines growing along the sides of it. Signs of the many years it had spent in the place.

Miles Edgeworth stood in the graveyard silently. Ever since that day, December 28th, 2016, when that horrid incident was finally brought to an end and his nightmares were banished, he had tried to frequent the graveyard, to pay his respects to his long-deceased father. A father that, though he would never, ever say it aloud, he missed dearly.

Father…

It had been almost 30 years ago. Almost 30 years into the past that Gregory Edgeworth had lived and breathed in this world, running his own law firm, working as a defense attorney to uncover the truth and defend people, training a protégé, and most importantly, raising his beloved son.

The Chief Prosecutor recalled a conversation he'd had with his father's protégé many years ago. He'd learned about his father's concern that he wouldn't make any friends in school, being so engrossed in studying law, even at such a young age.

Mr. Shields did seem surprised when he found out Larry was one of my childhood friends. I believe he said something along the lines of wanting to report to my…'old man,' that I actually had friends, because Father was always worried I wouldn't be able to make any. Father would definitely have been happy to know that I maintained my friendships with Wright and Larry, even if they were a bit…strained.

He had to tilt his head down to see the gravestone, given his height. That had always been the case ever since he had returned from Germany. The last time he had been to his father's grave prior to his moving away was at the funeral.

He could never truly figure out why von Karma had even allowed him to attend his father's funeral, but he was sure the intentions the prosecutor had in mind weren't the best ones. On the contrary. Maybe it was to rub in his face the fact that his father was no longer living, and in the subtlest ways, say that he was defeated by the "Great" Manfred von Karma.

Perhaps it was his way of saying, "There go your dreams to become a defense attorney. Buried away…just like your father, with no chance of ever coming back to life and succeeding."

Even when he was living in Germany, he had never forgotten to honor his father's passing. In the first seven years of living in the von Karma household, when his desk calendar had a large 28 in the middle and an italicized December underneath it, he'd go about his day as usual, making sure to follow every one of his mentor's orders. However, at the end of the day, a few minutes after his curfew, when he was sure the whole household was asleep, he would get out of bed, sneak out into the von Karma estate's garden and pluck a few flowers. With each passing year, he'd pick one more flower than he had in the previous year and place them in a box that he kept hidden under his bed.

It was a risky venture. He knew there was the chance that Manfred might catch him in the act, and Edgeworth couldn't begin to imagine how his mentor would've punished him if he was discovered. That didn't stop him from performing the ritual every year though. For seven years, he had successfully avoided getting caught.

Until someone caught him one year. He could recall that day clearly, and for a moment, he was pulled back into a flashback, many years back in time and many miles away from his current location.

December 28, 2008

Von Karma Estate

If only I had a better way to store these flowers than just keep them in this box. That way, they wouldn't turn so brittle and brown-colored so quickly. The 16 year old prosecuting student was donned in his sleeping attire when he wandered outside of the mansion in the dark, moonless December night. He was able to get seven flowers from the garden to place in his box. Once back inside the house, he padded his way toward the grand staircase, every couple of seconds glancing over his shoulder to ensure no one was awake and following him.

He finally reached the top of the stairs and turned right to enter one of the hallways. Almost there. Just three more doors to pass, and I'll be back in my room.

"Miles Edgeworth!" A furious whisper came from behind him, causing him to stop mid-step.

No! It can't be! He turned around. Standing in front of him was a little girl with short, straight platinum-colored hair. She was wearing a white nightgown and stood several inches shorter than himself. Her silver eyes were narrowed and aimed at him. "Franziska," he greeted her quietly.

"It is twenty-seven minutes past our curfew. What are you doing up and about at this time of the night?" The nine year old began shooting questions at him. "What are you doing with those flowers in your hands? Are they from the garden? And what about that box you're carrying under your arm?" Although the accusatory tone was present in her voice, she spoke softly, so no one else would hear her.

"Before I begin to answer your myriad of questions Franziska, I must ask the same question of you. What are you doing up at this late hour? Should you also not be asleep right now?" He countered, hoping he could escape from answering the rest of her invasive questions.

Of course, things were never that easy when Franziska von Karma was involved. "Hmph. I have a logical explanation as to why I am awake. I was feeling rather parched and there is no water in my room, so I decided to go out and get some from the kitchen." She was now glaring at him. "Now answer my questions this instant."

I don't necessarily have to tell her why I was out…but she might report me to Mr. von Karma, and I certainly wouldn't want that. Then again, even if I tell her, she'll still report me to him. Regardless of what I do, I will be in trouble. I should've been more cautious. Well, I'm the one at fault here, and I'll accept my punishment, whatever it may be. For now though, I shall tell her the truth. At least she doesn't have her riding crop with her, so there won't be any immediate repercussions I'll have to worry about.

Clearing his throat, he simply stated, "I…went out to gather flowers, and yes, they are from the garden." He took the box from under his arm and opened the lid before lowering it.

Getting on the tips of her toes, Franziska peeked inside. "There are a number of dead flowers in there," the nine year old mused to herself. She angled her head upwards to stare at her 'little' brother. "Why do you collect those flowers like that? Only to let them die? It's not very useful, and not at all something a von Karma would do."

A valid point, yes, but I was not a von Karma before I came here, and to an extent, I'm still not. No matter what, I'll always be an Edgeworth. Of course, he found no use in voicing those thoughts aloud. "I collected them as an offering for my father. I was never able to leave anything at his grave before I moved here," Edgeworth replied solemnly. The young von Karma was aware of the circumstances under which Miles was introduced into her family. He had spoken to her once about it, when he had first arrived in Germany. Afterwards, he avoided any and all discussion about his father.

"Have you been doing this every year since your arrival?" She asked after a few moments of silence.

When he nodded his head, Franziska also nodded hers, neither smiling nor frowning. Miles took that as her way of saying she wasn't all that impressed with his actions. His shoulders drooped as he held out the now closed box to her.

"What do you want me to do with this?" She questioned him, eyeing the box with what appeared to be disdain. "It's useless to me."

"Hmph. On the contrary. This…is evidence. Evidence you can present to Mr. von Karma in the morning when you tell him what I've been doing all these years."

Franziska's gaze lingered on the box before she lifted her gaze to give Edgeworth an unfathomable look. She abruptly turned her head away, her nose up in the air. "I don't have the time or patience to report what your annual activities are to Papa. I have my studies to focus on. Don't think you can so easily distract me from becoming the perfect prosecutor, Miles Edgeworth." With that, the nine year old marched away from him as soundlessly as she could.

Edgeworth couldn't help the tiny smirk that appeared on his lips. He had expected Franziska to report him at breakfast the following morning; however, she spoke not a word of the midnight meeting to his mentor. In the years that followed before he returned to Los Angeles, Edgeworth continued to go out on December 28th to get flowers for his father, and he hadn't failed to notice the silver eye peeking through the small crack in the doorway of the youngest von Karma's room as he passed by.

If I tried to confront Franziska about that today, I'd be sure to get quite the whipping from her, and it would be nothing like the whippings she gave me with her riding crop. At least she had been kind enough to keep my secret from von Karma, and if it weren't for her choosing to stay and watch over the Prosecutor's Office, I wouldn't have been able to even come here now. I'll have to properly thank her.

It took a moment for the Chief Prosecutor to realize he was still in the graveyard, standing at the foot of his father's grave. He tried to remember what his father looked like, and it wasn't a difficult task. Gregory Edgeworth was a man who stood tall at 176 centimeters. His black hair had specks of gray showing in them, but the wisdom that was present in his brown eyes was what truly revealed the man's age. His usual attire was a sharp grey suit, with a white, collared shirt underneath and a red tie around his neck. When not in the courthouse or his law firm, Gregory's signature look was a beige trench coat over his suit and his fedora.

The very last memory of his father that he had was that moment in the courthouse elevator when Gregory and the court bailiff got into an argument. Of course, that couldn't be called a fond memory. Although Miles couldn't recall most of the time he'd spent with his father, one memory was quite clear in his mind.

December 28, 2001

Edgeworth Family Residence

"Father! Father, wake up!"

"Mmgh..." A sleepy Gregory Edgeworth was roused from his slumber as his nine year old son climbed onto the bed. "What's wrong, Miles?"

"Nothing. Today's the day of your big trial!"

Gregory rubbed his eyes before glancing to his left at the alarm clock. The clock's hands formed a long, straight line. Sighing silently, he turned to the little boy, smiling tiredly. "Miles. It's only 6. I only need to be up at seven, and you at eight."

"I know, but I want us to get to the courthouse early, so that we aren't late for the trial." For a full year, Miles was waiting for his father's client to receive a not-guilty verdict. Today, Miles thought it would finally be the day that justice would be served.

Gregory opened his mouth to once more tell his son that there was no need to be up so early; however, seeing the desperate look in those small, grey eyes, he kept silent. "I suppose given your bedtime, you did get an ample amount of time to sleep. Very well, Miles. We can get up now and get ready. How about you go and brush your teeth? I'll be up in a minute."

It would be best to refrain from telling Father that I stayed up until midnight reading and memorizing the case file he had in his study. He'll be disappointed, and he might try to make me go to sleep again. The young Edgeworth hopped off the bed. "I already brushed my teeth."

That got a chuckle out of Gregory. "Of course you did. I should've known. Just give me a couple of minutes, then we can go downstairs and have us some breakfast.

True to his word, within a few minutes, Gregory led his son down and prepared their morning meal. While Gregory read the morning paper, Miles ate his breakfast as quickly and as neatly as he possibly could, not wanting to get scolded for eating fast and messily. As soon as he finished, he excused himself from the table and ran up the stairs before slowing down, having heard his father warning him to be careful. He rushed into his room and changed his clothes. With a brief look in the mirror to ensure he was presentable, he left his room and went to his father's room.

Father hasn't gotten his clothes ready. I should help him out so that he get dressed promptly. The sooner he dresses, the sooner we'll leave.

Miles opened his father's closet, only to tilt his head up at the rack. That's…rather high for me to reach. Still, wanting to at least make an attempt, he extended his hand and stood on his tiptoes, trying to reach the suit, but to no avail. Letting out a huff, he crossed his arms. Why did it have to be so high? Or rather…why did I have to be so short?! He turned around to glance around his father's room. Hm…there are two options I have: I could wait for father to get here, or I could find another way to get to his clothes. His gaze fell on the footrest in front of his father's chair, and a smile spread across his lips. Perfect.

By the time Gregory went up the stairs and entered his room, his white dress shirt and suit were already laid out on the bed, along with his pants and red tie. He was about to wonder out loud how that had happened, only to hear a commotion in his closet. The attorney let out a gasp. "Miles! What are you doing?!"

There was his son, standing with one foot on the footrest, struggling to reach the fedora on the top shelf. Miles hadn't been expecting his father to be in the room so soon, so he let out a yelp and started to fall backwards.

The boy shut his eyes, bracing for the harsh impact that never came. Instead, he fell against something soft, and a pair of arms wrapped protectively around him.

Gregory had managed to reach Miles just before he could fall to the floor. Setting his son down on the floor, Gregory straightened up and gave his son a stern look. "Miles Edgeworth. What on Earth were you doing, putting yourself in such a precarious position?!"

The child hung his head in shame when he heard his father raise his voice. "I was just trying to get your hat, just like I got your other clothes," he mumbled.

"So I saw. However, that was quite careless of you, to stand up on the footrest and reach up there. Had I not been in here, you could've fallen and seriously injured yourself."

"I know, Father. I'm sorry. I promise not to repeat that action again."

"Very well. I'd ask you to step outside so that I may change." Gregory's tone hadn't lightened up any.

Miles obediently followed his father's order and walked outside the room. His shoulders drooped further as the door closed behind him. Oh no. I've upset father. I should've been more patient.

After a few minutes, Gregory opened his door. At first, there was no one there, but looking beside the door, he found his son leaning against the wall, his head still bowed down. The man was disheartened to see his son in such a manner. Clearing his throat, he finally addressed him. "Miles."

Lifting his head up, Miles saw his father was finally dressed in his courtroom attire, with the fedora on his head completing the look. He didn't make eye contact with his father.

Letting out an inaudible sigh, Gregory knelt down so that he was at his son's eye-level. "Miles. Look at me." Although he turned to face him, Miles still refused to make eye contact. "Miles. You know it's impolite to not make eye contact with someone who's speaking to you." Reluctantly, a young pair of somber gray eyes locked with older, brown ones. "Do you understand why I scolded you?"

"Yes, Father. I understand." Knowing that wasn't enough to prove his statement, he added, "That was a careless thing for me to do, to stand up on the footrest and try to reach something that was obviously not something I could reach at my age and height. I should have waited until you were there to provide adult supervision. Had you not found me and caught me in time, as you said earlier, I could have fallen and injured myself."

Gregory was pleased to hear his son's rationalization of his reprimanding. "I'm glad to hear that, and I'm positive you won't repeat such an action. The last thing we would have wanted was to be in the emergency room with you hurt and not in court."

Miles's demeanor changed instantly at his father's mentioning being in court. "You're absolutely right, Father! It would've been quite the shame, but at least now, that won't be the case! Are you ready to go now?"

Gregory was almost taken aback by how quickly his son perked up when he was rather miserable only moments ago. "You're quite eager about accompanying me to court today, aren't you?"

A light blush spread across Miles's cheeks, knowing he probably sounded too eager to go to court, possibly even bordering on sounding desperate. His gaze was fixed on the ground. "I'm sorry, Father. I'm…just really excited to be able to see you in court today! I know I'll be sitting in the gallery watching, but one day…" He looked up at his father, his eyes gleaming with admiration and determination. "One day, I'll be standing at the defense's bench, just like you will be today, Father!"

Gregory couldn't remain upset after hearing that. He knew his son was dreaming of following in his footsteps to become the best defense attorney, but it was always amazing for the father to see his son so passionate. It was especially pleasant, since most of the time, Miles was a very serious, quiet, and studious little boy. With a grin he reserved only for his son, the defense attorney nodded his head. "Heh. That's right, son. And I'm sure by then, I'll be the one sitting in the gallery, watching you."

"I hope I make you proud of me, Father!"

The man smiled a gentle, fatherly smile. He brought one hand up to pat the young boy's head and stared right into his eyes. "No matter what happens Miles, I will always be proud of you." He stood back up, holding out his hand to the boy. "Now come along. We don't want to be late, right?"

With an enthusiastic nod, Miles stood tall and proud, taking his father's extended hand. "Right!"

"Heh…I did manage to stand at the defense's bench and be a defense attorney, under outrageous circumstances, but I did it, nonetheless…" He trailed off. It's a shame you couldn't have been sitting there in the gallery, like you said you would be.

His hand clenched into a fist around the bouquet he'd purchased. The man usually wouldn't spend money on such a little, seemingly trivial items; however, he felt the need to get something to leave at his father's grave, and what better than flowers?

The gladiolus flower. A symbol of remembrance. That was what the florist had told him at the flower shop he'd stopped at prior to his visit to the graveyard. He didn't only have gladiolus flower with him though. Along with the bouquet of white flowers were a few stems of another type of flower, purple hyacinths. Edgeworth examined them thoughtfully, recalling how the florist described the flower. A symbol…of regret. "I know there are many to whom I owe my apologies, but…I feel that the person to whom I owe the biggest apology…is you." He placed those flowers on the grave, keeping the bouquet in the crook of his arm.

"The path I once walked…was not a just one. I blinded myself to the truth and set onto a path to get any and every defendant that crossed my path a guilty verdict. I know I've sentenced innocent people to a life in jail. I deviated from your path towards the truth, towards justice. Rather than find another route to the same destination, I went to a different place entirely, to lies and corruption. I'm sure for that, you'd be severely disappointed in me."

He took in a deep breath before he continued. "However, thanks to certain individuals, I realized the mistake of my ways, and I changed. I figured out what it truly means to be a prosecutor, and the importance of finding the truth, no matter what side of the courtroom I may be standing in. Even…even if it's not as a defense attorney, I'd like to think I've continued your legacy. I…hope to continue your legacy. I hope I can make you proud of me, despite what's happened in the past. Most of all, I hope…that I have made you proud." He carefully set the bouquet down on the gravestone. "Thank you…for everything you did for me, Father. You were always missed and will forever be missed."

With that, the Chief Prosecutor straightened himself out and walked away from the tombstone. Even as he got further and further away, he could still see the epitaph right before his eyes.

Gregory Edgeworth: 1966-2001. Defense Attorney and Loving Father.

Gregory Edgeworth is one of my most favorite characters in Ace Attorney, which is the reason why I wrote this. I apologize for any typos and if I portrayed any of the characters in an out-of-character manner. I'd truly appreciate it if you kindly pointed them out to me. I'm hoping to improve on my writing, especially with keeping characters in-character, so your feedback and constructive criticism is always welcomed! Please feel free to leave a review or private message me. My inbox is always open to anyone and everyone! Thank you so much for reading!

Also, I have links to the websites from which I found the meanings of the different flowers, and since links don't work in stories, I included them on my profile, in case anyone was curious!