The Ties That Bind

Chapter Twelve: Two Legs or Four

Miles stood there in the study, drained brandy glass on the desk next to him, eyes squeezed tightly closed, as if trying to shut out the waves of guilt and embarrassment washing over him. In his mind's eye, he could distinctly recollect his most recent park visit with Franziska, now in a different, clearer light.

Someday...

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"Look at that, liebling," she'd laughingly pointed to a small boy, no more than four, trying to throw a Frisbee at his German Sheppard. However, his tiny chubby hands wouldn't allow him to toss the disc any more than a foot away from him. "Isn't that the cutest thing you've ever seen?"

"Indeed," Miles agreed. "The pup looks like he's getting antsy with anticipation over there." He walked over to the little boy, and smilingly picked up the Frisbee at his feet. "Try tossing like this," he suggested kindly, flicking his wrist and expertly tossing the yellow disc to the expectant pooch, who caught it with ease and then trotted over to them, tail wagging.

Miles then walked back to her, grinning proudly as the child tried to emulate the throwing movement he'd just been demonstrated, with a tad more success this time. "Keep on practicing!" The prosecutor called, graciously inclining his head to the lady seated nearby on the bench, who was apparently the toddler's mother.

"I changed my mind." Franziska took his hand and pressed a kiss on his cheek. "That, liebling, was the cutest thing I've ever seen."

Miles blushed and ran a hand through his hair. "Well, what to tell you, meine dame? I'm a big fan of Frisbee!"

"Wouldn't it be wonderful to have one of those running afoot?" She gushed, her eyes sparkling with delight at the thought. "Or one of those?" She gestured towards a small girl and her Golden Retriever, which was patiently allowing the child to tie her bonnet on its head. "I mean, not now, obviously," she amended quickly, looking up at him expectantly. "But maybe...someday?"

Miles smiled down at her, endeared by her hopeful expression, and leaned down to press a kiss on her forehead in response.

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Reminiscing now, Miles could plainly see, beyond any shadow of a doubt, exactly what Franziska had been referencing. Coupling that with her alluding commentary at the wedding reception, it was so glaringly obvious that he actually slapped his forehead with his hand, cursing his obtuseness for the umpteenth time.

On top of that, he now vividly remembered the unprecedented enthusiasm she'd shown as she'd dragged him around to over a dozen infant clothing stores in search of the perfect items for the Gumshoe baby basket. He recollected how charmed he'd been at seeing his normally refined lover squealing with glee as she held up each bootie and onesie for his inspection. And how utterly adorable he'd thought she'd been with her uncharacteristic cooing as she'd leaned over to peek into every baby carriage that came into the shop, and then sighed meaningfully as she'd looked over at him.

Of course, she had been pointing out the boy and girl, and not the damn canines! How could he have ever thought his traditionally born and raised European girlfriend had been hinting for marriage...and a dog?

If he did manage to fix things with Franziska, assuming he hadn't ruined things beyond repair, he vowed that he was going to become a very religious man.

Miles Edgeworth was going to get down on his knees and pray to God that any children He blessed him and Franziska with would have their Mother's brains and not their Father's.