Chapter Text
Miles Edgeworth’s favorite thing about her apartment is the kitchen. He had many fond memories of Detective Milena Stone in her bright yellow apron. The petite kitchen held just enough space for Miles to sit in the two person table next to the window and watch as her hair gently flowed from the breeze welcomed by an open window, she could always create something worthwhile. Soft music would caress the cozy kitchen while they spoke about any and everything. In this kitchen, professional boundaries blurred. He could call her Milena instead of “Detective” and she could call him Miles instead of “Mr. Edgeworth Sir”.
But just like many things in Miles Edgeworth’s life, the kitchen became tainted.
His heart could barely handle what was in front of him. A toppled table and two chairs, her favorite teacup shattered to pieces, and blood. The crimson liquid pooled onto white tiles, speckles and smudges littered the room, and occasional blotches were found all the way to the front door and the hallways of the apartment. But the worst of all...was the bloody hand print that was left onto the window sill, a desperate reach to a potential escape.
“With this much blood, the likelihood of Detective Stone’s survival is very low.”
“Excuse me for saying this, Sir, there’s blood on the ceiling which indicates an overhead swing to the head...a forceful one at that. The murderer- or rather the attacker, made it quick.”
“Is it worth searching through her phone or computer? I think we should be looking for a corpse, maybe check potential dumping grounds?”
The torturous words of the investigators taunted Miles, he could feel himself getting sicker by the minute. His throat swelled and his hands shook.
“What’s this about a murder? There’s no body! Can’t be a murder without a body!” Detective Gumshoe snapped, “Keep searching for clues, check anything and everything! Ya think Detective Stone would appreciate your conclusion hopping? Get back to work!”
High strung and angry, it was an unusual look for Detective Gumshoe. Then again, Miles couldn’t blame him, Milena Stone was his protege, practically daughter. Miles couldn’t even recall a time Gumshoe showed this emotion to himself or Milena, but then again, the situation had never been as dire.
“Mr. Edgeworth Sir, don’t listen to them!” Gumshoe said comfortingly as he dragged the prosecutor out of the apartment, “They’re just panicking! We’ll run tests on all the evidence and I’ll make sure you get everything! Right now, you should just go clear your head!”
"Are you sure there’s no way I can assist? Is there anyone checking every hospital for someone matching Milena’s description? Who’s checking the data on her phone and computer? The security cameras from the complex? And what of contacting her family? Also-”
“Mr. Edgeworth Sir,” Gumshoe interrupted gently, “All of that is being taken care of at the precinct. I’ll let you know any updates, you can count on me...she’s important to me too, pal.” The last part was said quietly with a grim expression.
“I don’t doubt that, Detective...let me know if there’s anyway I can assist the investigation, and as soon as there’s a suspect, I will prosecute them.” Miles vowed.
It was a mistake for him to return to his office, the empty seat across from solidified the harsh reality. Without meaning to, he found himself slipping into the memory of their conversation just the day before.
“The world isn’t so bad, Mr. Edgeworth Sir.” The words were spoken with a soft smile as the young detective sipped her cup of coffee.
“Your positivity amazes me, I’d think after all your homicide investigations that the world would begin to feel at least slightly crude.”
“Of course there’s evil, growing up, I was surrounded by it,” A sad smile graced her face, “but the very fact the two of us are here together means there’s so much good.”
“I beg your pardon?” Miles asked surprised.
“Both of us have experienced enough trauma to drive one to a dark place and maybe we both were,” Milena explained, setting down her cup of coffee as her eyes challenged his, “yet when given an option we decided to dedicate our lives to greater ideals, both rooted in truth and justice. We aren’t the only ones, that’s how I know the world isn’t so bad.”
Miles was quiet, the case on his desk now forgotten. He had questions, he wanted to know what trauma she had gone through because despite more than a year of knowing her...he had no idea of the trouble she’d lived. He wanted to know how she pulled herself from the depths of sorrow, and he wanted nothing more than to hug her closely and protect her from anything and everything. He wanted her to never lose that sense of love and hope for the world, because for her to find such a thing in Los Angeles was beautiful and nothing should ever corrupt it.
It was too much for him to handle, so instead he took her hand across the desk and held it closely. “Thank you.” He found himself saying quietly, and the sun must have been envious at the bright smile on her face.
Miles was snapped out of his memory through his phone ringing in his pocket and for a minute, he froze. His empty hand lay open across the desk, a desperate reach to a potential escape.