Chapter Eight

Proxy: Lesson Eight

September, 2003

Miles's bedroom was still dark when he woke; according to his alarm clock, it was four AM. He groaned and pulled the covers over his head, closing his eyes tightly. Nightmares or no nightmares, five hours was not enough sleep.

But a nightmare hadn't woken him, he realized gradually, tossing the covers away again and sitting up; no, it was the sound of footsteps in the hall outside. Familiar footsteps—Franziska's. She hadn't even come to his room that night; with everything else they had to contend with, usually they only managed to spend time together as siblings once a week unless Franziska was particularly distressed. So she could have been paying a late night visit…except when the footsteps reached his door, they hesitated for only a moment or two, and then continued past.

There was nothing Franziska could possibly need from further on in the wing where Miles's room was located; there were two bathrooms closer to her bedroom than the one down the hall from his, and the kitchen was another direction entirely. So what was she doing wandering about at this hour?

It really wasn't any of his business, Miles knew. So he really should just go back to sleep.

He was out the door before he had a chance to think better of it, not even bothering with a robe or slippers. He kept to the shadows as he followed his little sister's cautious progress through the chill stone corridor, thankful beyond words that the manor was old enough and isolated enough that Herr von Karma hadn't chosen to install any sort of CCTV, relying solely on a state-of-the-art alarm system. And Dobermans. Mostly the Dobermans.

(Truthfully, Miles rather liked the Dobermans, but given the current circumstances, he was just as happy the kennels were kept in an outbuilding in the courtyard.)

Franziska seemed quite sure of her path, for all she didn't spend much time in the north wing—her room was in the opposite wing, and the east wing had apparently been sealed off since before she was even born. Miles's room was as far as she usually got. But only when they had nearly reached the far end—even Miles wasn't sure what most of the doors they'd passed held—did she stop, choosing a doorknob seemingly at random and turning it. Miles held his position around the corner until she'd stepped fully inside, closing the door behind her. Then he came out of hiding and crept closer, stopping in front of the door. He reached for the knob, his hand hovering over the metal, and bit his lip anxiously.

(It isn't right to spy on her like this. She deserves better. I'm supposed to be the one she can trust…)

His guilt got the better of him, and his hand dropped. But as he turned away from the door, he heard something unexpected—Franziska's voice.

"Hallo? Ja! Hallo, Liesl!"

Miles froze.

"I'm okay. How've you been?" Franziska asked eagerly, and Miles's hands closed into fists; he leaned his head against the wall, squeezing his eyes shut. Of course. Of course. The little present from Liesl last Christmas—it must have occurred to the older girl that Von Karma might not have taken well to her abrupt disappearing act, so she'd gone around him, trusting Franziska to know well enough to avoid risking their father's anger by giving anything away. So now, as if Franziska didn't have enough problems, she was hiding a bloody mobile phone in her room.

He didn't know what to do about this. This could only mean more trouble for Franziska, and for him. It was only a matter of time before Von Karma found out; if there was one lesson a prosecutor had to learn, it was that secrets just didn't stay secrets. Not when there was evidence.

(Evidence like a certain book about a bear of very little brain?)

Miles shut that train of thought down hard. No, Franziska's illicit storybook was an entirely different matter. This was—it—it was worse, surely!

He was going to have to think about this.

Miles only narrowly dodged another lecture from Von Karma over the next few days, his own distraction knocking his grades into a downward spiral. It wasn't exactly subtle of him. Even Franziska had taken to shooting him worried looks at the dinner table. Breakfast on the third day of this had her throwing furtive glances at her father instead; the moment Manfred turned his back to accept the day's mail from one of the newer maids, she moved, hand darting from her plate to Miles's to her napkin almost too fast to see. Miles blinked down at the extra strip of bacon which had materialized on his plate.

"I don't know what's wrong," Franziska whispered quickly, "but bacon fixes everything."

Miles opened his mouth to object—she had a right to her own breakfast, and his distress certainly had nothing to do with a protein deficiency—but Von Karma was facing towards the table again, and somehow Franziska's gesture reminded him of Sair. Mrs. Wright had never met a problem she wasn't firmly convinced a good feeding could fix.

He shoved away the feeling of homesickness and finished his breakfast with robotic detachment. Dwelling on the past wouldn't help his unexpected dilemma in the slightest.

After that, Miles was convinced: he might not know what to do, but plainly something had to be done. His concern for Franziska was only causing her more trouble at this point. Visions of what Von Karma might do if he discovered her secret plagued him day and night—adding some variety at least to his nightmares, he acknowledged with grim humour. He had literally disowned Liesl for defying him; what would become of Franziska for doing the same, and for continuing to acknowledge her sister even after Manfred had ceased to do so?

God, what had Liesl been thinking? Miles didn't know her very well, but if she cared about Franziska at all, surely she wouldn't have put her in danger of incurring their father's wrath? If only he could just ask her—

Oh.

…That could work.

Miles crept into Franziska's room shortly after three AM, tense and on edge, desperate not to make even the slightest of sounds. He knew their heavy workload meant that Franziska was usually out like a light the moment her head hit the pillow and stayed that way until her alarm went off in the morning, but it wouldbe just his luck for the one night he had to sneak into her room to be the one night she slept lightly.

Wonder of wonders, though, it didn't seem like that was going to be the case; even as Miles closed the door just short of latching it and stepped into the centre of the room, Franziska's breathing remained deep, even, and slow, eyelashes fluttering just slightly as a dream moved her eyes beneath their lids.

There were more upsides to the age of the Von Karma manor than the lack of security cameras—for example, most of the floors were stone, so there was a marked lack of creaking floorboards. And, for that matter, a lack of loose floorboards under which Franziska could hide things, limiting the number of places Miles had to search. Before he began, though, he tiptoed up to her bedside table and switched off Franziska's alarm; the digital face didn't show what time she'd set it to wake her up, and the chance she'd planned to contact Liesl tonight wasn't something Miles wanted to risk. If she had set it for the small hours of the morning, she was going to be late getting up the next day…but he was committed now.

Franziska's continued slumber as assured as it was ever going to be, Miles set about his search, feeling about the underside of her bedframe, behind the headboard, along the sides of the mattress. Nothing. He checked behind the curtains, under the windowsill, all in and around the disused fireplace, and still came up empty. He did find an international law casebook shoved to the back of an upper shelf in her closet, but the book was intact, if dusty, and concealed not so much as the slightest clue as to the phone's location.

He ignored the obvious places like drawers and cabinets; even at age four, his sister was much too smart to leave any kind of contraband amongst the rest of her things. In fact, the first thought that had occurred to him was that she kept the phone in the room she'd called Liesl from, but apparently Franziska preferred to keep such a treasured belonging close despite the risk.

Treasured belongings…

Frowning, Miles turned his attention to the bookshelf. No; nothing out of the ordinary there…textbooks upon textbooks, for German, French, English, mathematics, history—and international law.

(Now why would anyone have two copies of the same casebook?)

Miles knelt down by the shelf, pulling out the offending book. As soon as it was off the shelf, the book slipped straight out of its dustcover; he barely caught it in time, pulse pounding in his ears, an abortive cry catching in his throat. He quickly looked around over his shoulder, but Franziska slept on.

(Oh, thank God.)

He allowed a quiet sigh of relief to escape him before he turned his gaze back to the book in his hands. It was immediately clear why it had fallen out of the dust-jacket; it was much too small, for it wasn't a law casebook at all. He couldn't make out the tinted etching on the front of the little book, but the lettering on the spine was clear enough: Pu der Bär.

Pooh the Bear, in English; or, to give the volume its original title, The World of Pooh.

(Clever, Ziska…and I bet you've put your treasures all in the same place, because that's just how you'd think, isn't it? If you're to be caught for one wrongdoing, it can hardly be worse to be caught for them all, right?)

Sure enough, when he slid his hand into the gap where Pu der Bär had been concealed, his fingers encountered a plasticky, rectangular shape. He gripped it tight and withdrew his hand, slipping Franziska's cell phone into the pocket of his robe. Then he put her bookshelf back in order to buy himself a little time if his sister woke, gave the room a quick once-over to ensure he hadn't put anything out of place, and left as quietly as he'd entered, making his furtive way back to the north wing.

He wasn't quite sure why, but Miles found himself retracing his steps from earlier to the half-empty room he'd tracked Franziska to several nights ago. It seemed to currently be used for nothing but storing some disused furniture; leaving it unlocked must have been an oversight on the part of the staff, especially if the other rooms lining this far-flung hallway had equally innocuous contents. Frankly, Miles could care less. He simply appreciated it for the same reasons he had to guess Franziska had: it was as far away from anywhere inhabited or forbidden as it was possible to be without leaving the manor entirely. And if either of them had tried that, well. Alarms. And Dobermans.

Leaning against a dusty writing desk, Miles turned the phone over and over in his hands, eyeing it with a sick feeling of dread. He wasn't shy by any means, nor easily cowed, but suddenly making this call was the last thing in the world he wanted to do. It felt like crossing a line. He'd just broken into his baby sister's room, stolen from her, and now he was going to contact her elder sister and—and what? He wasn't even sure what he was going to say to Liesl! This plan was terrible. This plan wasn't even a plan at all!

Before he could think better of it, he clicked into the phone's address book and selected the only number that had been programmed in, raising the phone to his ear and trying desperately to control his rapid breathing. The tones that sounded as the other end of the line rang were deafeningly loud to him. Then—

"Hallo, Fran," he heard Liesl's voice in his ear, tinny and with a slight crackle to it. "I wasn't expecting you to call again so soon. How are you?"

"Worried," Miles replied flatly, not giving himself a chance to consider his words. He felt an odd coldness take up residence in his chest. "Your father isn't really known for his sympathy."

There was a stunned silence, followed by a bewildered and indignant "Who—!?"

"Miles," he replied. "Edgeworth. Surely you recall. I arrived at the manor just before you left for who-knows-where and tipped Herr von Karma straight into the worst temper I've ever seen him in."

Another long silence. Then a sigh. "Oh… I'm sorry; you were still mostly speaking English the last time I saw you. I didn't recognize your voice, especially over the phone. And Papa…he's disowned me, hasn't he? I thought he might have. But Fran wouldn't say."

"He has," Miles confirmed. "It's strictly forbidden to even talk about you. So imagine how he'll react when he finds out you and Franziska have been in contact for nearly a year. And you know there's no way he won't find out at some point."

"I—"

"No," Miles cut her off. "Listen. Ziska turns five next month. I think she's just glad to have a way to talk with her sister. But you—you should know better. Was the first rule of the manor different when you lived here?"

"Papa's word is law, of course—but he'd never—"

"Oh, stop," Miles interrupted again, exasperated. "I'm sure you have a list of things he'd never do. Isn't that why you left?"

"Miles, please. Won't you at least let me make my case before you convict me?" Liesl's voice had gone rather sharp—perhaps there was a bit of Von Karma in her after all.

"Me first," Miles said curtly. "I think we both know which side of the courtroom you're standing on at the moment."

"…You've certainly come a long way from the boy who arrived on our doorstep last February," Liesl said quietly. "Very well. Let's have your opening statement, then."

(Last February…has it really been such a short time?)

"Fine," Miles bit out. "I submit first that given your sudden flight from the manor, you no longer feel able to share a home with your father. I would further argue that since your decision to leave was triggered by an argument between Herr von Karma and myself, you do not trust your father's reaction to defiance on the part of his children, biological or adopted. I submit secondly that Franziska's contact with you could be considered just such an act of defiance. I conclude that by establishing this line of contact, you have knowingly placed Franziska at risk of her father's anger, and I would like to know what the hell you were thinking."

Miles realised he was breathing heavily; his face was flushed.

"I was thinking I didn't want to be completely cut off from my sister!" Liesl cried.

"Your sister?" Miles demanded. "You left. What, you couldn't handle your father's moods, but the toddler you abandoned could? Go on, Fraulein von Karma. Make your case. Tell me why giving Franziska a secret phone was a good idea."

"Gladly, Herr Edgeworth," Liesl replied coldly. "I gave Franziska the phone so she wouldn't be alone. Even before Papa became so cold, when Mama was still there, it was lonely at home; they loved me, and Fran when she came along, but they were both so busy all the time. There are towns nearby, but we hardly ever left the manor. Summers in Genoa, trips to Los Angeles…those were the only time I had a chance to be with other children. I didn't want Fran to grow up lonely like I did."

"Then you should have stayed." Even Mileswas surprised at how frigid his still-young voice sounded, and at last it occurred to him what he was feeling: true, deep, genuine anger, for the first time in years. "Did you know the route between her room and the room she calls you from takes her right past Herr von Karma's study? How long, do you think, before he catches her? How could you be so afraid for yourself but not for Ziska? You made your choice. You deal with the consequences. Don't you dare push them off on her."

"What do you want from me!?" Liesl exclaimed, audibly frustrated almost to the point of tears.

"I want you to think long and hard about whether or not this phone is worth the risk it carries. And if you come to your senses and realise it isn't, I want you to explain that to Franziska, and the two of you can arrange to cut off contact and eliminate the evidence. Unless you have some fool-proof plan to ensure that if your father ever finds out, the blame will land entirely on you, even though Ziska's been keeping such an important secret from him for so long."

"…"

"I know it's not my place to tell either of you what to do," Miles said, more calmly. "I just don't want Ziska to get hurt. …I'm going to hang up now."

"Wait."

Miles paused, his thumb over the end call button, and brought the phone back to his ear. "What?"

"Why do you care so much? This doesn't affect you in any way. Father has no reason to blame you for any of this."

It was Miles's turn to lapse into silence for a time.

"Fraulein von Karma…if you didn't want me to think of Franziska as my sister, you shouldn't have told her I was her brother."

He didn't wait for her to say any more, hanging up the phone and tucking it back in his pocket before burying his face in his hands.

This really had been the best thing to do for Franziska's sake…right? Even if it wasn't what she wanted, sometimes what people wanted wasn't the same as what they needed. His father had said that once.

The phone was back in Franziska's room and her alarm was reset by four-thirty. Miles turned his own alarm off when he got back to his room. He wasn't going to be getting any sleep tonight.

A little less than a week later, when Franziska woke him up at five AM in tears and spilled the whole saga of the secret cell phone to him—ending with her most recent conversation with Liesl, when she'd been told to dispose of the phone and not try contacting her again—Miles hugged his little sister tightly and tried not to hate himself too much.

Lesson One: Kindness inspires loyalty.

Lesson Two: A Von Karma is perfection.

Lesson Three: Don't cross Von Karma.

Lesson Four: You can't trust others.

Lesson Five: Avoid defeat at any cost.

Lesson Six: What's gone is gone for good.

Lesson Seven: It's never too late to start again.

Lesson Eight: Sometimes the best choice is the one that hurts the most.

A/N: Is-is this what it feels like to meet a deadline? I'd completely forgotten. Damn, but it's good to be back.

It occurred to me that this whole conflict might seem overblown, but I stuck to my guns for two reasons: One, Von Karma's kind of a control freak and probably would blow his top if he found Franziska out, and two, difficult family situations always feel much, much worse to those involved than they may seem to those outside. In this case, even I don't know if Edgeworth made the right choice or not, nor Liesl when she ultimately comes to agree with him; they both make valid points during their initial argument. What I do know is that children often end up making decisions they aren't really prepared for, and their adult selves are stuck wondering if they made the right call—and thinking about everything they could or should have done differently, now that they have the benefits of hindsight and experience. Remember—Liesl's only just 18, and Miles is 11. They only act mature.