On The Edge
Part I: Turnabout To My Heart
Chapter 1

She's got a smile that it seems to me
Reminds me of childhood memories
Where everything was as fresh
As the bright blue sky
Now and then when I see her face
She takes me away to that special place
And if I stared too long
I'd probably break down and cry
Sweet child o' mine
Sweet love of mine
She's got eyes of the bluest skies
As if they thought of rain
I hate to look into those eyes
And see an ounce of pain
Her hair reminds me of a warm safe place
Where as a child I’d hide
And pray for the thunder
And the rain
To quietly pass me by

“Sweet Child O’ Mine”
Guns N’ Roses
***
“…I find the defendant…guilty as charged.”

As the judge banged his gavel, the bespectacled man with pewter hair and glasses slammed his open hand on the bar. The silver-haired man across from him smirked in self-satisfaction.

I failed…damn that von Karma…and Miles…he saw it all…

Gregory Edgeworth placed a hand on his client’s shoulder before the bailiff escorted him out of the courtroom and headed toward a young boy of approximately nine or ten years old.

“It’s okay, Dad,” Miles assured him. Gregory patted a hand through Miles’ hair, which looked exactly like his. Dressed in his little blazer, short pants, and a perfectly knotted bowtie, Miles looked like a miniature version of his father, who he greatly adored.

“Thank you, Miles.” His son took his hand just like Alana used to.

“At least today is over…and tomorrow will be a better day…”

“…Dad?” Miles looked up at his father, currently lost in thought. His father whispered a word, a name.

“Alana…” Miles knew that name. It was his mother’s name. He hadn’t seen his mother in three years, not since he saw the men in white paramedic uniforms take his mother away from the kitchen where she had slit her wrists. His mother was “dead,” his father had told him. A “suicide.”

“Do you miss Mommy, Dad?” he asked.

“Every day, son,” Gregory said, giving Miles’ hand an extra squeeze. “Let’s go home.” Miles nodded.

“Can we stop for an Ice?” he asked, meaning an Italian ice. Miles adored lemon-flavored Italian ice since he couldn’t eat regular ice cream. He was lactose intolerant. Gregory smiled from the corner of his mouth and Miles smiled back, knowing his father’s affirmative smile. The two of them stepped in the elevator along with one of the bailiffs.

“Heading out?” Gregory asked him.

“Yeah,” the uniformed man grunted. Gregory pushed the button to the ground floor. Just as he did, however, the ground began to shake and the lights flickered.

“D…Dad…!?” Miles gasped.

“It’s okay, son. Just stay calm. It’s just an earthquake,
it’ll pass…” The lights then stayed off, leaving no light. Miles could hear the guard screaming for air and his father ordering the man to calm down, but the rest all became a blur as he whited out.

***
“Miles…? Miles, are you awake…?” That soft voice reminded him of the few memories Miles had with his mother.

“…Uh?” He opened his gray eyes. “M…Mommy?” The woman in the white nurse’s uniform shook her head.

“I’m sorry, Miles…but your mother’s been dead for three years…” Miles groaned. “Do you remember what happened, dear?”

“What…happened…?” Miles repeated.

“In the elevator, dear…during the earthquake. It’s painful to say this, but…do you remember who shot your father?” He looked at her.

“W…Where’s Dad? I won’t say anything until I see my dad!” She left the room and arrived with a doctor and a man in a suit. Miles remembered him as the same man in his father’s court case. “You’re…Mr. von Karma, aren’t you?” The man nodded.

“Herr Manfred von Karma,” he slightly corrected, using his native German. “I see you’ve awakened, boy. Good…that’s good…” He muttered a few sentences in German, turning away.

“Herr von Karma is footing your hospital bill, Miles,” the doctor said. “In exchange…you will be in his custody after the doctor releases you.” Miles shook his head.

“No, I want to see my dad,” he argued.

“You can’t see your father, Miles…he’s gone. He was shot and killed in the elevator. You’re legally an orphan, Miles, but Herr von Karma has opened his heart and is willing to adopt you as his son. He’s very well off and has a wife and two daughters…Herr von Karma, what were their names again?” von Karma glanced upward.

“Hm? My daughters’ names? Franziska and Corinna.” He shook his head as if it meant little and worked his right arm around.

“Is your shoulder all right?” the doctor asked.

“Fine!” von Karma snapped.

“Anyway, Miles, if you don’t live with Herr von Karma, we have no choice but to put you in a foster home. It would be very difficult for a boy your age to be adopted. Nine is seen as too old for adoption. Many people want to adopt babies, newborns in particular. They want people to believe the child is theirs and nine seems to be far too old to do that. Herr von Karma is giving you the opportunity of a lifetime. You can go to private primary and secondary schools, college, law or medical school…I’ve heard from your teacher you wanted to be an attorney like your father. Herr von Karma can help you with that. He’s been a prosecuting attorney for 25 years, since your father was around your age.”

But I want to be a defense attorney, Miles thought.

“You’ll be with a very good family with parents and two sisters. If I were you, I would be begging for this offer.” Miles looked back and forth between the doctor, the nurse, and von Karma. His father was gone…his mother was long gone…there was no other choice.

“Okay, Herr von Karma,” he said. “I’ll go with you.”

A transcontinental flight later, the young Miles Edgeworth found himself in front of the largest house he’d ever seen. He was now in Germany, more specifically just off the shore of Alster Lake in Hamburg. The von Karma manor was just meters away from the lake, one of the largest buildings on the lakeside. Four people were in front of the door: a butler, a woman with pale hair carrying a little girl with her hair color, and a teenaged girl who looked tall for her age.

“Ah, you are Miles?” the woman asked, her accent thick.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said politely.

“Welcome to our home. I am Johanna von Karma.” She gestured to the little girl, who looked to only be a toddler. “My daughter, Franziska.” Her elder daughter then extended her hand.

“I am Corinna von Karma,” she said, her accent not as thick as her mother’s. Franziska exclaimed something.

“Miles,” she said, pointing at the boy.

“Uh…guten tag, Franziska,” he said, reciting his German perfectly. Johanna set her daughter down and she immediately walked up to Miles, her small head craning upward to look into his gray eyes with her teal eyes.

“Guten tag, Miles,” she replied. Corinna picked her up and talked to her in soft German.

“Joseph will show your room to you…the wing you will share with Franziska,” Johanna said.

“Okay,” Miles said. Though her words seemed a little hard, her eyes were gentle. She seemed to really want him here.

“I will see you at dinner,” Corinna said formally. Joseph clamped a hand firmly on Miles’ shoulder and led him through many hallways until they were at the east wing of the house’s fourth story.

“First floor, living quarters. Second floor, guest’s wings. Third floor, offices. Fourth floor, the young Fraulein von Karmas. Fifth floor, Herr and Frau von Karma’s wings.” Joseph’s accent was even thicker than Johanna’s. “You will sleep in this wing, Herr Edgeworth. I will send belongings here.” The butler left and Miles looked over his room. His bed was too big along with the closet, the adjoining bathroom, and even the television. It wasn’t just the things in the room that were too big, but the room itself. The house he had back in California wasn’t even a third the size of this manor and this room was three times as big as his room back there.

“Dad…Mommy…” Miles huddled in the corner of his room and started to cry. It was the last time he would cry out of self-pity in this house, but certainly not the last time he would cry.

***
Several months after Miles arrived, Manfred von Karma returned to California to continue his law practice. Miles wanted to come with him, but he knew he couldn’t. von Karma gave him chills and it was obvious that he scared his wife and children. Johanna would speak more sternly to everyone, Corinna’s steel eyes hardened, and even little Franziska would stop her gentle bilingual chirruping when he was around. When he was gone, however, the dark pall he had cast over the manor dissipated and all of the other von Karmas were free to be their true selves. Corinna took Miles and Franziska to Alster Lake and when she got her license, she drove them to museums, theatres, even the parks. Franziska loved the parks and was not shy about dragging Miles across each of them so that she could play. Johanna had joined them the first few times, but she had withdrawn when Corinna took main control of the trips. She had looked far too pale and her health seemed very delicate. All three children noticed it and Corinna quickly called a doctor to look in on her.

“I have drawn blood for tests…but I recommend bringing her to hospital for more tests,” he said. Corinna nodded and she drove her to the hospital, leaving Miles in charge of Franziska.

“Mother wouldn’t forgive my bringing you two,” she explained as she left, putting an arm around her slight mother.

“I wanna go, too, Miles. Let’s go,” Franziska ordered her big “brother” as she pulled on his arm.

“We can’t, Franziska. They have to do…boring things.” Miles hated lying to her, but she would be scared if it were about a hospital. She was a very astute three-year-old and particularly sensitive toward emotions. “Let’s go get a lemon ice from the kitchen.” Franziska, who was developing Miles’ weakness for the cold treat, nodded and headed into the kitchen with him.