This fan-fiction was inspired by a certain picture; if you want to see it, PM me and I can send you the link.

First, I want to thank XStormyX for her patience and her phenomenal skills as a Beta-Reader!
This story is dedicated to XStormyX, to L_A, my other beta-reader who has been infinitely patient with me; to Crouton and her love of Miles Edgeworth; and to anyone who has ever experienced the loss of true love, but found it again, this story is dedicated to you.
I do not own any characters in this story; nor do I own the poem at the beginning. Thank you for reading.

King of Hearts

**The sweet melody of love encompasses the distance between the heavens and the earth – on one end, the radiant smile; on the other, an ocean of tears. As does melody bring one, so shall it bring the other.**

Franziska Von Karma shivered as she entered the Borscht Bowl. It seemed colder than usual as she wrapped her arms around herself. She had forgotten about the perpetual winter that the restaurant held and it was a shock to walk in from the heavy Los Angeles heat into the bitter Russian tundra that the Bowl mocked. She stood and got her bearings as a large man lumbered over to her rambling in fluent Russian the whole way.

"Velcome old friend!" His voice carried over the unusually crowded restaurant. "Vhat brings you here today, Franziska Von Karma? A nice cool bowl of famous Borscht? Or is it famous Card Shark?"

"Thank you Herr Konstantin, I am here to see Phoenix Wright." They chatted for a moment and Konstantin led her to Phoenix who was sitting at the piano, trying desperately to unlock a tune with the befuddling keys before him. Franziska had never felt genuine pity for anyone, until now.

It had been two years since Phoenix Wright had been disbarred and in those two years the young Von Karma had witnessed a change in the man like she had no other. The man sitting before her now was nothing but a shadow of the former great defense attorney he once was. He was dressed shabbily in a dull gray sweatshirt and bright blue beanie – no doubt to hide the fact that personal hygiene had taken a backseat to his personal life and current living situation. Franziska shivered again, thinking about the cases she had prosecuted, facing off against the passionate young lawyer.

"Only the foolish try foolishly to find the right note to play to fools who don't give a damn." She stood arms length from Phoenix with her hand on her hip.

"Franziska Von Karma," he said as he turned around to face the young woman slowly. She had grown into a lovely young lady, he thought, and even though they had kept in touch over the last couple years (through no encouragement of the other) he could see the maturity of her father creeping into her eyes. He imagined her mother was a beautiful creature – she would have to be to overcome the Von Karma genes. "What, may I ask, does one Miles Edgeworth have to say to me this time?" He said, the scorn dripping from his voice.

Franziska narrowed her eyes at the man. She loved her step-brother, and she hated that this man talked in this manner about him. However, another part of her was ashamed and angry at Miles Edgeworth for running away, yet again, from a situation that was out of his control. What's more, she hated the fact that she was torn between these two men – Franziska von Karma was never uncertain about anything.

She took a deep breath before she spoke. "Why would you assume I'm here for anything other than a social call, Phoenix Wright?" She watched her breath come out in little clouds and it reminded her briefly of childhood winters in Germany.

"Heh," Phoenix chuckled as he put his hand on his beanie and ducked his head. "Because the Franziska Von Karma I know doesn't make social calls. The Franziska Von Karma I know is Miles Edgeworth's messenger girl. Unless, I don't know Franziska Von Karma anymore?" He looked up at her as he cocked his eyebrow.

"I-I...That is annoying Phoenix Wright, using my full name all the time. Please refrain from ...doing...that." She had her whip in her hands, her fingers clenched tightly around the cord.

"Six months and you haven't changed your little habit have you?" He turned back to the piano and started plucking at it again. "Too bad Franny, I was starting to like you after all this time."

The woman scowled at him and resisted the urge to unleash the mighty power of whip on him. The last time she had, three large Russian men in black suits had came out of nowhere and promptly carried her out, kicking and screaming.

"You are impossible, Phoenix Wri – Grr…"

"Heh, heh… Old habits are hard to break!" He chuckled as he turned to see her turn a shade of pink, reminiscent of one Miles Edgeworth's pink suit. His smile faded as he thought of the man that left him at his most desperate hour. There was a hole in his chest where his heart had been and it had yet to heal. Even Trucy's charming smile was not a sufficient balm for his searing pain. He sighed deeply.

"Phoenix Wri – Phoenix. I think," Franziska paused to find the right words. Deep emotions were never her specialty, but she was learning, thanks to the two stupid saps that wouldn't put their pasts behind them. He was looking at her expectantly. "I think I have something that you... that you will want to have." She reached in the small satchel that she carried with her and pulled out a small brown envelope and handed it to the wary looking pianist. He regarded it for a moment before shaking his head.

"I told you, I'm not accepting anything from that man."

"Please, Phoenix, I am tired of all this foolish nonsense." She looked down. "I will never understand Miles Edgeworth's actions or why he is so afraid. But if there are two people in the world that deserve to be happy, it is you and my foolish little brother." Franziska then did something that Phoenix had only seen her do once before. He had accompanied her to her fathers grave after he died in prison and she had taken off her gloves to touch the rough stone. It was the only time that Phoenix had seen her cry. They had stood, with his arm around her, in the rain for several hours as she stared at her fathers name engraved in the cold gravestone. Franziska had now taken her gloves off again and reached out her hand. She hesitated then, tentatively, placed her hand on Phoenix's cheek. He sucked in a quick breath of air. The expression on her face was genuine and he was completely caught off – guard. "Please, if not for Miles, then... then for me."

The air hung thick between them as Phoenix studied her.

"Franziska," He started. "You...really are..." He trailed off. "Yes, for you… I will accept this –whatever it is you have for me."

The young woman let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding and her hand lingered on his cheek for a second before it disappeared back in the glove. She handed Phoenix the unmarked envelope. He took it and felt it for a second, cocking his head at her as he concentrated.

"It... feels like a key...?"

"Yes Phoenix, it is the key to the house you two once shared and that I now occupy. Mil – " She paused. "... I want you to meet me at that house no later than three o'clock tomorrow afternoon." She smoothed down her jacket and cleared her throat. "I have a flight to catch tomorrow at seven o'clock in the evening and I do not want to be late. This will be the last message I will deliver to you, Phoenix Wright. I am leaving for Germany and do not plan to come back for quite some time."

Phoenix blinked at her. Then looked down at the envelope. "I... last..." As much as he didn't want to admit it he was growing rather fond of Franziska's visits. It was the only connection he had left to Miles. Now he was going to have to come face-to-face with the memories of the house that Miles and Phoenix had lived in, together… As a couple... A couple...

The words echoed in Phoenix's head as he suddenly broke down. He hated himself for being such an emotional mess. He hid his face in his hands as Franziska looked around. A couple at the table nearby were the only ones that took notice and she recognized them as regulars. She knew that they knew more about this whole situation than was their business; the pitiful expressions on their faces gave them away. She threw a glare their way before slowly putting her arm around Phoenix. He leaned into her. She gave a small yelp as he practically threw his arms around her. Biting her lip, she lifted his arms off herself for a second as she sat next to him on the piano bench. Then, his arms were back around her as she reciprocated in kind.

Phoenix hated the overly extravagant house. He hated the overwhelming feeling of emptiness that it gave him every time he had stepped into it after Miles left. He hated the memories the rooms were filled with; the echoes of the love that was shared in each room. He hated it even more now given his current state of affairs.

Standing in the foyer with Franziska sparked his memory. She'd shown up on the door step about six months after Phoenix's disbarment and promptly hired maids and ordered Phoenix to follow some semblance of a routine hygiene pattern after finding out he had taken Trucy under his wing. She moved in slowly and looked after the two, sending Miles regular updates, until suddenly, a couple of months later, he evacuated the house that haunted every fiber of his emotional being.

Of course, it wasn't hard for Franziska to find Phoenix; she knew where he worked and she visited often. He hated being watched just as much as Franziska hated being used. She finally put her foot down and told Miles that she was tired of being his messenger girl. He wasn't ready to come back to the states and face Phoenix so he asked of her one last favor.

Which was exactly why Franziska dragged Phoenix back to the house that haunted his memories.

"Franziska, I-I'm not sure... I mean I don't think..." He blew out a puff of air as he adjusted his beanie. Except for the previous evening, he had been really good at hiding behind an emotionless mask especially for Trucy's sake. Now as he stood in the open foyer, he could feel the flood of emotions wash over him. Suddenly feeling claustrophobic he reached out for Franziska as she caught him by the elbow.

"Phoenix," Her voice was surprisingly soothing as she hesitantly laid her hand on the side of his face. "You must do this. You must face your demons. If not for yourself then for Trucy's sake. The faster we get this done, the faster you can leave all this in the past."

He blinked at her. "The past...Franziska, it feels like someone has punched a hole in my chest. It… I will never be rid of this pain." His hand went instinctively to his chest and she put her hand over it.

"Please Phoenix..." She tugged at his hand and they made their way to the lounge at the back of the house. Phoenix's breathing became ragged and he sat on the black leather couch that occupied the wall opposite the piano that was covered in a heavy dust cloth.

"Miles used to play that piano. Fluently, I might add." Phoenix sniffed as the young woman walked over to the grand instrument. She grabbed one corner and in one fluid motion, flung the sheet off of the piano. Dust motes floated and seemed to sparkle in the sunlight that filtered through the large picture windows that occupied the other walls. The smooth black piano shone like a beacon in the middle of the room. Suddenly, something gold caught Phoenix's eye. It was just a flash, but it was enough and he stood and walked over to the piano. Franziska watched him carefully as he reached out and touched the gold band that was hanging from the piano's open top. Even though it only weighed a few ounces, to him it bore all the weight of a thousand tears and he sank onto the piano bench.

"Phoenix Wright," The young prosecutor sat on the bench next to the man and wrapped an arm around him. "Miles... was going to propose to you the night you left to play cards with Zak Gramarye. He… He said he tried to warn you but you were insistent... I truly am sorry Phoenix."

Phoenix never moved. He just stared at the band of gold.

Phoenix was a zombie over the next several months. Franziska delayed all the plans that she had and took Trucy up to Hazakura Temple for Maya to take care of. Maya happily took the little girl in and Pearls and Trucy got along swimmingly.

Short of begging Miles to come back to the states, Franziska had exhausted all options in getting Phoenix to snap out of his stupor. Being exhausted herself, she was about to haul the man up to the Temple herself.

"I feel like a fool. I'm completely helpless." She said into her phone to Maya. It had been three years and still nothing from Phoenix. He went to the Borscht Bowl and played his piano and his poker and came home and went to bed all the while not saying a word to anyone. The desperation in her voice was frightening, even to herself. "I am going to bring him to you Maya. You always put a smile on his face. Maybe get him piano lessons while you're at it. God knows he needs them."

"Piano lessons..." Phoenix's raspy voice startled the young Von Karma and she almost dropped the phone. "I need piano lessons. He will come back to me if I learn how to play the piano."

"Maya – I have to go –"

So here they were now, standing in Kristoph Gavin's office, after Phoenix insisted that Kristoph was the one that would give him lessons. Franziska hated being there. There was bad blood between the Von Karmas and the Gavins but Phoenix was oblivious.

"Wright, I am not qualified to give any sort of instrumental instruction. Have you forgotten that I am a defense lawyer? Besides, I specialize in classical violin, not piano." Kristoph explained as he examined his nails.

"I've heard you play. You're amazing." Phoenix explained as he shoved his hands into the pocket of his hoodie. Kristoph regarded the man carefully. He never meant for Phoenix to fall this far and, for a moment, felt a small twinge of pity for the ex-defense attorney.

"Hmm, well, I guess it wouldn't hurt anything. It would be nice to hear some actual music as I eat my Borscht." The blond smirked as Franziska threw him a look of contempt. "What brought this on in the first place, Wright? Your passion for the piano was about as fiery as my passion for my brother's music."

Phoenix narrowed his eyes at Kristoph for a brief moment as he contemplated his answer. "I want to make a good impression on... the customers at the 'Bowl'. You're right, Kristoph, they deserve to hear some decent music while they eat."

"You're lying, Phoenix, but I will agree to teach you anyway." The defense attorney gestured to the dark-haired man and smiled a small smile. "It would do you well to work on your poker face."

Phoenix spent the next few months sitting next to Kristoph on a piano bench much to Franziska's chagrin. She never expressed her concerns or her hatred for the blond attorney; she was happy just to have Phoenix talking again. She was also happy to see Trucy and Phoenix pick up where they left off. She often wondered if Trucy knew about Miles but knew it wasn't her place to say anything.

"Phoenix," Kristoph started one day. He put a hand over Phoenix's left hand and the other recoiled in shock; Kristoph was not one for any physical contact of any sort.

"I... What is it, Kristoph?" Phoenix turned a nervous gaze on the latter as he carefully picked up Phoenix's hand and examined the gold band.

"I've never seen this on your hand before... Is it... What I think it is?"

"What do you think it is?" Phoenix asked. He had been wearing it for two days and it felt so natural, it scared him.

Kristoph regarded the man over his glasses as he fingered the smooth band. His hands were soft on Phoenix's dry ones and he was starting to get nervous. "Phoenix, please, I'm not a fool." The dark-haired man tried to pull his hand away but Kristoph had a tight grip.

"This is a wedding band, Phoenix!"

"Ow! I know it's a wedding band, Kristoph! Can I have my hand back?" Phoenix managed to pull it back, but the blond had his band in between his index finger and thumb, examining it.

"The King Of Hearts..." Kristoph read the inscription on the outside of the ring aloud, then squinted to read the one on the inside of the ring. "M. Edgeworth... As in Miles Edgeworth?"

"Y-Yes..." Phoenix stuttered and blushed and turned his head.

"The demon prosecutor?"

"The same..."

"I see," Kristoph regarded Phoenix carefully. "I guess love knows no bounds." Then he took Phoenix's hand and slid the ring back on his finger with ease. "So, where is Miles?"

"He's... he's in Germany. Now let's get back to work. I'm not in the mood to discuss my romantic notions." He placed his fingers on the keyboard and played a somber cord.

Kristoph brought up the subject of Miles only once more and Phoenix evaded the subject again. Two weeks later, Apollo was accusing his mentor of murder.