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The courthouse.
It's still the same as Miles remembers, even after a decade. It still looks the same, sounds the same, smells the same.
It still felt the same. How could a place that has impacted his life so drastically stay the same as if nothing bad had ever happened there.
His first time back in the courthouse after the death of his father and barely anything had changed. There may be some new paintings and plants, but it's still the same courthouse where his father died aIl these years ago.
It's late, the last trial of the day had ended nearly half an hour ago. Miles walks through the empty hallways, footsteps echoing off the walls. He should go, von Karma would be expecting him in his office soon. Somehow Miles can't make himself to turn around and leave. It's like his feet have a mind of their own, they keep on walking. Step by step until they come to a stop.
There it was, the elevator. Not only where his father's life had ended, but also Miles’ own. The Miles Edgeworth from then as good as dead.
It felt like a lifetime ago that his father took him with him to watch one of his fathers trials. After the trial they took the elevator down when the earthquake hit. The elevator stopping abruptly while all the lights went out. Miles remembered grabbing his fathers hand in shock and holding on tightly. He tried to be brave. The darkness quite frightened him, but the comfort of his hand in that of his fathers was enough to keep him calm.
His father kept talking to him while they waited for help to arrive. He asked if he was happy to go back to school after Christmas break and that was all it took to distract Miles as he told his father about how he couldn't wait to see Phoenix and Larry again. Excited to tell them all about what he had learned from the trial today.
He kept talking until he started to feel dizzy and breathing became harder. He wasn't the only one getting affected by the lack of oxygen, Miles could hear his father breathing heavily and the bailiff that was in the elevator with them starting to utter things about not being able to breathe, but Miles couldn't hear him very well. The room was suffocating him, feeling as if the elevator was getting smaller and smaller.
He can't remember much of what happened next, only the nightmare that returns to him every night.
The pistol that was at his feet.
A bang, a shout.
Miles woke up alone in a hospital bed. His father was murdered and Miles was left with no memories of it.
With no family members to take him in, he left the country and moved to Germany with von Karma. The prosecutor his father was up against the day he died.
A prosecutor, that was the only path laid out for Miles to take. How could he defend criminals if his fathers murderer would be walking free for as long as he shall live? No, Miles would make sure something like this would never happen again.
All the dreams of being like father crushed.
Manfred von Karma was nothing like his father, the manor nothing like his home. Instead of warmth and laughter, there was coldness and silence. Still he should be grateful. Von Karma took him under his wing when he had no one left. Von Karma gave him a roof to sleep under and made sure he was fed.
Von Karma also taught him everything a prosecutor should know. He taught him how to be perfect. Perfect in every way, that was the von Karma creed.
A von Karma, that is what he is now. Miles may not wear the name itself, but it is engraved in his very being. He grew up with their norms and values, grew up to carry their legacy.
Von Karma had carved him into the complete opposite he once dreamt to be. A perfect win record is all that matters, so winning he should.
Miles had not prosecuted any trials yet, he only came to the courthouse today to observe one of von Karma’s trials. Just like he did when he was here last, but instead this time his eyes were focussed on the other side of the courtroom.
And somehow that brought him here, in front of the elevator.
Miles noticed his vision had become blurry, if it were from tears or lightheadedness he did not know.
Miles had not set a foot into an elevator since that dreadful day, the experience he had as a young boy being too traumatic. His hands were trembling as he reached towards the elevator button to open its doors.
He felt nauseous.
The doors of the elevator opened. Still steel and cold, just like the bullet that was once shot here.
The small room was there before his eyes and Miles fell to his knees. He was glad no one else was around. No one should ever see him like this, weak, broken, about to weep like a small child. God, what would von Karma think? Miles is such a fool for still letting his old life affect him this much.
Tears fell from his eyes as he tried to hold back his sobs. He needed to get up and behave like the man he was raised to be. Never show emotion. Emotion was just a weakness, something to slow him down and for others to take advantage of.
But this was a part of himself von Karma couldn't get to, no matter how bad Miles had wanted him to. To take his pain away and leave him like a void, because feeling nothing seemed better than the daily suffering he has to go through.
Because after all these years, missing his father had not gotten any easier.
His father was never meant to die. Miles is living a life he never should have lived. Miles has to live with this knowledge for as long as he is alive.
Good people get shot in the heart, their lives cut short. Other people were born heartless, but still get to live long lives.
Miles did not believe in the afterlife, the thought of people who have long passed looking down from above seemed foolish to him. Even the spirit medium that was brought in to help solve his father's murder was proven to be a fraud.
No, there was nothing that would make Miles believe his father would hear him right now. Still he couldn't keep himself from speaking.
“I hope you can forgive me, father,” Miles said silently, voice loud enough only himself could hear. He felt embarrassed, but he kept on talking.
“I have not become the man I always dreamt I'd be, not the person you would have hoped me to be. The bright, happy child you have always known me to be is no longer here. Instead I've grown cold and ruthless. I know you must be disappointed in me.
“I wish you were here, father. There has not been a day gone by where I did not wish you were still here with me.
“I hope you can be proud of me still.”
Miles felt foolish talking to his father as if he were a young child, tears rolling down his face. His father was not here. He has not been here in over a decade.
The doors to the elevator closed and Miles stood back up, it was time to leave.
Miles walked through the empty hallways towards the entrance of the courthouse. Once he was outside in the fresh evening air he looked back at the courthouse. The courthouse he would be visiting lots of times from now on, just like he always dreamt he’d be.
The courthouse still the same after all.