Scarred Soul: Chapter Three
Title: Scarred Soul
Author: twilights_blue
Rating: PG-13 for now
Warnings: Eventual slash, lack of beta, etc.
Chapter: Three
Summary: And so Phoenix found himself in a situation similar to the one he was in a week ago. Stalemate.
Apparently, the first step in having an extremely personal conversation with Miles Edgeworth was to make tea.
As Phoenix watched the prosecutor move about the kitchen, he considered mentioning that the tea could wait. However, he noticed the tension lining Edgeworth’s shoulders, the minute trembling in his hands, and the constant and absent touches to his right arm, just below the elbow. Perhaps making tea, something Edgeworth did often, was simply being used as a calming ritual. As Phoenix had seen the night before, getting lost in a simple chore, like cooking, allowed the prosecutor to relax and collect himself. Since that probably meant that Edgeworth would be more open to talking, Phoenix decided to stay quiet and not question the other man’s actions.
Within a few minutes, both men were seated in the living room once more, Phoenix on the couch, Edgeworth in the armchair farthest away from the attorney. Bright morning light streamed through the tall windows, jarring just a little with the tense silence of the room and illuminating Edgeworth’s pale yet composed face. The silence lasted for quite a while, both men quietly sipping their tea. Phoenix’s blue eyes kept flicking expectantly to Edgeworth, who sat with his eyes lowered in thought. Finally, the prosecutor placed his drained teacup on the low table before him with a small sigh. Phoenix quickly followed suit, wanting to give Edgeworth his full attention.
The grey-haired man was silent for another moment, eyes distant. Finally he turned his grey gaze to the waiting attorney.
“Do you recall what I told you about how I received this?” Edgeworth’s fingers lightly brushed the raised skin of his scar, which was exposed once more by the prosecutor’s neatly rolled-up sleeve.
Phoenix nodded. “You said that you were…attacked.”
“Correct.” Edgeworth paused, swallowing a little before continuing. “What I told you was true. I got lost in the Black Forest as a child. When the sun went down, something…found me. I tried running, but it was much faster than me. It was trying to drag me away by my arm when help finally arrived.”
“Edgeworth--” Phoenix began softly, but the prosecutor quickly brushed away the attorney’s words.
“Not now, Wright. I’m not finished, and I need to keep talking before I change my mind about this whole situation.”
After eyeing Phoenix warningly for one more brief moment, Edgeworth continued. “A nearby hospital cleaned the wound the mons- the creature - gave me. I was patched up and released within two hours.” A deep, shuddering breath. “I was readmitted that same afternoon; I had collapsed, and was burning up with a near-deadly fever.”
Edgeworth tried to ignore the sympathetic sound that came from his listener, but he couldn’t resist looking up. He looked into concerned blue eyes for just a second before looking away once more.
“The fever lasted for five days, breaking when my wound completely - and abruptly - healed. Those five days were excruciating. I was in pain the entire time, and it felt like someone had laced my bones with liquid fire, while my wound felt frozen, like ice.
“I don’t have many memories of my hospitalization - the pain and fever were sufficient enough to blur my perception of reality. According to the doctors, however, I had acted wild, crazed, more animal than human. When I finally woke up clear-headed for the first time in days, I had restraints around my wrists and chest.”
Edgeworth went silent for a moment, eyes dark with the pain of memory, fingers gently working at the scar. Phoenix considered saying something reassuring, but stopped himself. Speaking may make Edgeworth balk, and the prosecutor so desperately needed to talk, to relieve himself of a burden several years old.
The grey-haired man shifted a little in his seat. “After an extremely quick recovery that left the doctors dumbstruck, I went back home. For the next few weeks I lived like I had before the…the incident, focusing on my studies and little else. Everything seemed to have gone back to normal.
“A few weeks later, I was shown that things for me were no longer normal.” Edgeworth briefly closed his eyes and let out a small, pained sigh. “I got in a heated argument with a colleague of mine one day. We got very close to blows, and we probably would have fought, had I not abruptly broken away from the situation.
“During the argument, my temper had become dangerously high. My scar, only about a month old at the time, became suddenly painful. Alarmed, I went to my room, which was fortunate, because moments later I was no longer exactly human.”
He took a deep breath. “The…change? Transformation? Whatever you wish to call what happened to me, it lasted for nearly an hour; long enough for me to realize that it was not a dream. By the time I was human once more my mind was racing, trying to find some way to rationalize what had happened, what was still happening, to me.
“I quickly lit on an idea that explained everything neatly, if not attractively: the stress I had imposed onto myself had finally broke me. Witnessing my father’s death just a few years beforehand, studying to near-exhaustion every day, getting attacked by something and then recovering from the following illness had been too much for my mind. I was insane now, I was sure, and had hallucinated. And I also didn’t doubt that the delusion would repeat itself.”
Edgeworth paused, and he refused to look up, apparently afraid to see whatever expression was being played out on Phoenix’s face. “You must remember I was still a child while all of this was happening. I was a child, and I had just decided that I had gone mad. The irrational decision I made that day was simply a result of those factors. I decided that the best way to combat my madness was to isolate myself and distract my mind from it. Hopefully, without any external contact and with more work, I’d be able to repress my insanity before anyone else noticed it. So I quickly locked myself away in my room and increased my studies, only allowing myself sleep when I collapsed over my desk and notes.
“Obviously, this method of healing had quite an adverse effect on me. My exhaustion lowered my stamina and mental strength, which actually increased the frequency of my transformations. My self-enforced imprisonment also gained attention, and the rumors I had been hoping to prevent began to spread from the house to the rest of the neighborhood. And yet, as things continued to deteriorate, I continued with my plan, hoping that maybe, just maybe, it would one day work.
“The entire situation lasted for two months. Two months of little sleep, of reading books until my vision blurred, of listening to people plead with me on the other side of my bedroom door to please, please just go outside for a little bit. Two months of the changes becoming more frequent, until I couldn’t go an hour without switching from one form to another. And then, one day, I woke up at my desk to find a woman sitting on my bed, staring at me. I was too startled to ask questions or to move, and the woman simply continued to watch me. Finally, she opened her mouth and spoke. She only said four words, but they were enough: ‘You are not insane’.”
A ghost of a smile traced Edgeworth’s lips. “I don’t think I can explain how relieved that one little phrase made me. Here was a stranger, someone who, even though she appeared so mysteriously, seemed to know what was going on with me. And it definitely wasn’t madness. One of the greatest weights I have ever carried was lifted off my shoulders just like that.
“After giving me a moment to recover from the shock, my visitor quickly explained herself. She had been traveling through town when she heard rumors of a boy that had suddenly started locking himself away from everyone else, and that every now and then strange things could be heard happening within the room. Recognizing some of the signs, she had sought me out immediately, hoping to save me from destroying my health over something that could not be fixed. She was a werewolf, and she told me that I had recently been changed into one as well. To prove that she wasn’t lying, she changed into a wolf and back for me. What really proved her true identity to me was the scar on her shoulder, a scar that was the exact shape and size of my own, if only on a different part of the body.
“My visitor stayed with me for nearly a week, teaching me what I needed to know in order to survive as a nonhuman in a human world. Mostly she gave me tips on how to cope with my newly acquired abilities, as well as a few warnings. She was about to tell me how to control transformations when she suddenly disappeared. Apparently, something had pressured her to leave abruptly without telling me, leaving me alone with one of my biggest questions unanswered.
“I quickly created my own answer for my problem. I had noticed the correlation between my emotional state and my changes. With a little experimentation, I discovered that if I kept my emotions under a tight control, I’d be able to stay human for an extended amount of time. I was aware that the method was probably not the correct one, but it worked well enough for me at the time, and so I did not question it. Soon enough, I left my room for the first time in two months, much to the shock of the household. I quickly reverted to my normal life pattern, mingling with the rest of society as I studied. Things continued normally, save for my changes every now and then. Those became less and less frequent, however, as I continuously refined my emotional control.
“And now you know what’s wrong with me. I know it sounds mad - it still does to me, sometimes, and I’m the one who has to live with it. However, I must emphasize that I am indeed telling you the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.”
~*
Silence seeped into the room when Miles finally stopped talking. His mouth was perfectly dry, and he fiddled absently with his teacup, wishing he hadn’t drunk all the tea before speaking. He didn’t think he’d ever been so desperate for something to drink in his life.
But at that moment tea would have to wait. The bigger concern, of course, was Wright. Wright, who had yet to say anything about all that Miles had told him. The prosecutor was getting nervous about the attorney’s silence, but was still unable to make himself look up at the other man. He didn’t want to see the incredulity he expected to see on Wright’s face after hearing such a mad--
“I believe you.”
The words were said so easily and firmly that they startled Miles into looking up. Wright was leaning forward in his seat, arms resting on his thighs, hands loosely clasped together. The look on his face mirrored his words: confident and honest. It caught Miles off balance. He had been expecting a blank, maybe even frightened, look after he had finished talking. Perhaps a slow, hesitant question about whether or not Miles had forgotten to take a some sort of medication that morning. This complete acceptance, however…Miles just couldn’t wrap his head around it. And yet, at the same time, he felt a sort of utter relief that the other man did not consider him insane.
“Really?” Miles asked softly, doubtfully. “You actually believe everything I told you?”
Wright shrugged. “Pretty much,” he answered casually. “I mean, yeah, it’s a little bizarre to consider, but I do run with a pretty odd crowd myself. Spirit mediums and all of that. It’s hard not to believe this sort of thing after a while.”
“That…makes sense, I suppose.” Miles shook his head a little, still amazed by how easily the attorney had taken all of this. “To tell you the truth, I’m still slightly surprised that I told you anything in the first place.”
“Well, I’m glad you did.” Wright offered the prosecutor a lopsided grin. “If you hadn’t said anything, I’m pretty sure I would’ve thought I’d gone crazy. It’s not every day you wake up next to a wolf, you know.”
“Ah, I’m truly sorry about that,” Miles said softly with a blush. “Recent events have made it difficult for me to get any sleep, and when I’m exhausted I no longer have complete control over when I change…”
“There’s no need to apologize - it was just startling, that’s all.” Wright paused, as if thinking, and then he said, “Speaking of recent events, you mentioned the other night that my presence has been putting an extra strain on your ability to…keep control, I think is how you say it. Was that true?”
Miles hesitated before answering, considering the consequences of what he was about to say. Seeing no immediate harm, he decided to speak truthfully. “Yes. As I said before, when I was facing you for the first time in court: your presence has burdened me with unnecessary feelings. Unnecessary, uncontrollable feelings. Since being in contact with you, I’ve accidentally transformed more than I have in the previous five years or so.”
“Oh.” A look of concern crossed Wright’s face, shadowed his blue eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” Miles said dismissively. “How were you to know that reentering my life would have such a bizarre effect on me?”
Wright looked away and said nothing, though his expression had cleared into one of deep thought. Miles let the silence stand for a moment more, wanting to make sure that the attorney had the time to absorb everything he needed to. Finally, Miles stood.
“Well, if that’s all, then I think it’s time for you to be on your way?”
Wright started, looking up confusedly at the prosecutor. “What?”
“I told you what you wanted to know,” Miles said slowly. “Now I’ll take you to your office so that you can get some work done.”
Wright shook his head, smiling a little bit now. “It’s the weekend, Edgeworth.”
“And?”
“I don’t work during the weekends. Mostly I stay home and sort through paperwork or catch up on chores.”
Miles crossed his arms, patience slightly wearing away. “Then I’ll take you to your apartment.”
“It won’t be cleared up until the afternoon, according to the guy I talked to last night.”
“Then I’ll take you to a park or somewhere that you can hang about for an hour or two,” Miles snapped irritably. He could feel his patience for the other man fraying badly. “Look, Wright, you are impeding on my own time right now. I need to get some work done--”
“No you don’t.”
Miles looked over at Wright’s confident expression and quirked an eyebrow. “Pardon?”
“I said you don’t have any work to do today.” Wright also stood and took a small step towards Miles. “If you had had work today, you would have been awake and gone hours ago. It’s not like you to go to work this late in the morning.”
“But I told you last night that I had work to do. Not a lot, but some.” Miles crossed his arms and one of his fingers began to tap. “What do have to say about that, Wright?”
“I think it’s a code. You would never stay home to work. In fact, I have the feeling you would drive all the way to the Prosecutor’s Office just to sign a single scrap of paper.” Wright grinned. “I think that when you say that you only have a bit of work to do, you mean housework. You’re rarely home, so I can see how basic everyday chores can become a large-scale job. Plus, saying you have work when you actually have a day off helps keep the bosses from the Prosecutor’s Office from throwing any more work at you.”
Miles winced. He had forgot about Wright’s uncanny ability to notice more than he let on. “…Fine then, Wright,” he growled, defeated. “You can stay until your apartment is fixed. Just don’t get in my way too much.”
Wright quickly nodded his agreement. Satisfied, Miles turned and started towards the kitchen in order to make breakfast.
“…Edgeworth?”
Miles paused and glanced over at the attorney, who was still standing in the living room. “Yes, Wright?”
Wright looked down at his feet for a moment, hesitant. When he looked back up at the prosecutor, the nervousness in his blue eyes was clearly visible. “Can…can I ask questions?”
Miles hesitated. Was it wise to allow Wright free reign over what he knew about Miles’ condition? The prosecutor didn’t think he had a choice. If Wright’s curiosity was not satisfied now, it could lead to unanticipated problems later on. So he gave Wright a small shrug.
“If you wish, Wright. Though I reserve the right to not answer any of the questions I don’t want to.”
Wright smiled. “Don’t worry, Edgeworth. I’ll try not to be too much of an annoyance.”
~*
“So do you change with the full moon?”
Miles paused, his forkful of omelet halfway to his mouth. Wright patiently sat on the other side of the table, his head tilted questioningly. Miles set his fork down and leaned back in his chair. After a moment he shook his head slightly.
“No, Wright. That’s a myth. Lycanthropes change on demand or when they are emotionally overwhelmed. Sometimes, though, they can become wilder during the full moon. But that’s natural for many species of animals, and even humans.”
Wright nodded and went back to eating. Satisfied that he wasn’t about to get any more questions, Miles also resumed his meal.
~*
As Miles left his room about an hour later after a shower, wearing fresh clothes and carrying a basket of dirty laundry, he found Wright sitting in the hallway, waiting for him.
“Can I help you, Wright?” Miles finally asked after a moment to recover from his initial surprise.
“Do you have any special abilities? Like super-speed or heightened senses?”
Miles sighed and rolled his eyes. So the attorney was still playing this game. “We have heightened senses,” Miles answered, albeit a little impatiently. He couldn’t help it - he hated being questioned, even if he had initially allowed it. “However, I personally do not have heightened senses because I try not to embrace that aspect of myself.”
Miles started down the stairs and towards the laundry room. He heard Wright scramble to rise and follow him.
“Why not?” Wright asked as soon as he caught up.
“I don’t see a point in accepting that I have a monstrous side to myself. Therefore, I try to cut myself off from it. The stoicism and prevention of transformations are parts of that.”
They had reached the laundry room. Miles quickly opened the washing machine’s door, crouched, and starting piling in clothing. His motions were quick and abrupt, signs that he was losing his patience. And he could feel his temper flaring, little by little, because of all the questions. And yet he could do nothing to prevent it. Wright stood a few feet behind him, watching, curiosity obviously not satisfied quite yet.
“And why not?” Wright asked. “It’s not really monstrous, I don’t think.”
“I like thinking of myself as a human,” Miles snapped, “and nothing more.”
Wright’s brows furrowed in concern. “But you can’t just deny one aspect of yourself. That isn’t--”
Miles rose abruptly and shut the washing machine door with a loud snap. He turned, fixing a glare on Wright. “I think the questioning is over.”
“What?” Wright stared at Miles in surprise. “Why? All I was asking was--”
Miles turned his back on Wright. He’s done dealing with the attorney’s questions, his obvious curiosity and concern. It made Miles…uneasy.
“Don’t you think you should shower, or something?” Miles asked, trying to get rid of the other man.
“…I don’t have a change of clothes.” Wright didn’t say it as an argument - he seemed to realize that fighting wasn’t going to help in this situation. His voice was tinged in resignation.
“I’ll give you an outfit you can borrow.”
Wright stared at Miles for a moment, and Miles refused to make eye contact, afraid that he would say or do something stupid if he caught sight of the emotions playing out in the attorney’s eyes. The silence lasted for another few seconds, and then Wright sighed in resignation and moved away. Miles heard him wander up the stairs, heard the door to the guest room close overhead.
As Miles stood there, feeling various, unidentifiable emotions begin roiling through his mind, the washing machine whirled to life. With a frustrated sound, Miles sank down to a crouch against the laundry room wall and buried his face in his hands, trying to quiet the confusion in his mind.
~*
Once Phoenix had his bedroom door closed behind him, he leaned his head back and settled himself against the door’s wood with a sigh. He was at a loss with what to do with Edgeworth. It had seemed as if he was making progress, that he had finally made it back to safe ground with the other man. But then he had asked that one last little question, and he had almost heard the walls rising up between him and Edgeworth once again.
And so Phoenix found himself in a situation similar to the one he was in a week ago. Stalemate.
After running one hand wearily over his face, Phoenix pushed himself off the door and crossed the large guest bedroom to the attached bathroom. The bathroom was spacious, well-stocked with towels, soap, and shampoo. Phoenix started the shower up, and as the water heated up he stripped down, leaving his clothes in a neat pile as far away from the shower as possible. He quickly got under the spray, not wanting the chill of the air to settle onto his skin. He sighed happily at the warm, pressured spray against his back. Leaning into it a little, Phoenix allowed his mind to wander.
The last few hours with Edgeworth had truly been…enlightening, in a sense. Phoenix would never had suspected that the prosecutor was hiding something so odd, and yet here it was. Even now Phoenix was a bit dazed about what he had discovered. And yet he had managed to quickly accept the situation as truth. Edgeworth was naturally a terrible liar, and as he had said his story he had looked completely sincere and a little insecure - he believed every word he was saying. That helped Phoenix to also believe.
But the way Edgeworth addressed that side of himself, the supernatural side… Phoenix’s mouth pursed in thought as he began to wash, then rinse, his hair. He could understand wanting to resist a part of himself, of wishing it all away, but not at the level that Edgeworth was - had been - attempting it. Yes, knowing that he wasn’t human probably made Edgeworth feel isolated more often than not from everyone else, but it didn’t have to affect him as negatively as it had been. People that were more in touch with the supernatural side of the world could easily survive with the rest of the human population. Maya, with her spiritual connections, was an excellent example.
As Phoenix turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, grabbing a towel along the way, he realized that Maya truly was a great example. For the few years that the attorney had known her, the medium had shown no signs of being at odds with her abilities. Also, in that time, she had never seemed unable to control her powers. In fact, Maya was always so at ease, able to easily mingle with others and be herself, whether she was happy or upset--
Phoenix froze in the middle of wrapping a towel around his waist, something occurring to him. As he thought it over, he wanted to hit himself. What hadn’t he thought of it earlier?
Hurriedly fastening the towel about his waist, Phoenix strode across the bedroom and opened the door, stepping into the hallway. “Edgeworth?”
“In here, Wright.”
Turning his head towards the voice, Phoenix spotted another open door further down the hall. He quickly walked over, discovering a very spacious bedroom decorated in various shades of magenta. Edgeworth was currently going through some drawers on the far end of the room, sorting through clothes.
“Interesting outfit choice, Wright,” Edgeworth said, looking over the still-dripping attorney with a quirked eyebrow. “Were the clothes I left for you in front of your room not satisfactory?”
Phoenix shook his head. In fact, he hadn’t even noticed the clothes laid out for him. He was too focused on his theory right now. “I want to ask you something--”
Edgeworth stiffened. “No. I’m done with that.”
“Please, Edgeworth,” Phoenix practically begged, crossing the room to stand next to Edgeworth. “I promise that this will be the last question I ask about this. I’ll leave you alone for a while after that.”
Edgeworth turned and studied Phoenix’s face with harsh grey eyes. Finally he sighed and looked away. “All right,” he muttered. “Ask your question, Wright.”
“The person who helped you all those years ago, the one who left before she told you everything. You mentioned that she was in complete control of her…changes. What was she like personality-wise? Was she open with her emotions?”
Edgeworth looked down at his hands for a few seconds, mouth a tight line as he tried to remember. Finally he looked up at Phoenix once more. “Yes, she was. She was very lighthearted, but had a quick temper. She was also…accepting. Of both herself and her situation in life.”
Phoenix grinned triumphantly as everything clicked into place in his head. “I knew it.”
The prosecutor gave him a suspicious look. “I know that I probably shouldn’t, but I’ll ask anyway: you knew what, Wright?”
“What if I told you,” Phoenix said easily, seeming to avoid the question, “that I figured out a method that could reduce your stress?”
Edgeworth became more attentive at that. And wary. “And what would that method be, exactly?”
“Simple,” the attorney answered with a nonchalant shrug. “All of that mental and emotional control you have? Your refusal to accept that you’re not human? Get rid of it.”
The look Edgeworth gave Phoenix could not have been more shocked if the attorney had told the prosecutor to voluntarily saw off his own hand. “You can’t be serious, Wright.”
“Oh, but I am!” Phoenix smiled as he began to explain. “For the last several years, you’ve built your life on emotional control. You believe that it helps you stay human. But I think that that’s the hard way to go about it. You’re only adding more mental stress on your already stressful life.
“It seems that your mentor was a lot more free with her emotions and yet was still able to keep control. Plus she was at ease with herself, with who she was. This shows me that if you stopped struggling to be something you’re not, then things may smooth out for you. You won’t abruptly change as often, you’ll get rid of a whole mess of unwanted stress, and you’ll be able to freely show emotion. A win-win-win situation, if you ask me.”
Edgeworth stared at Phoenix in faint disbelief. He opened his mouth as if to speak, paused, and abruptly closed it again. Finally the prosecutor shook his head.
“I can’t do that, Wright,” Edgeworth said wearily.
“What? Why not?”
“You’re asking me to utterly change a large part of my personality, of my life.” Edgeworth shook his head again. “That’s nearly impossible for me to do. Not to mention the fact that you don’t even know if that method of yours will even work.”
The prosecutor began to turn away, but Phoenix reached out, grasping the grey-haired man’s shoulders and forcing him to stay. “Please,” Phoenix murmured, “can’t you just try it? I want to help with this Edgeworth.”
A pause followed the attorney’s plea, Edgeworth scanning the other man’s earnest blue eyes uncertainly. Finally he looked away. “I’ll think about it.”
Phoenix smiled a little. “That’s all I ask.”
“Hm.” Edgeworth looked back at the attorney cautiously. Suddenly he smirked. “Go get dressed now. You’re dripping all over my carpet and I’m sure you can’t afford to remove any stains.”
Phoenix took the hint and left, shutting the other man’s bedroom door behind him. He smiled as he went back to his room, finally feeling as if he was making progress.
~*
For the rest of the day, Wright had kept his promise. Any more conversation between the two men had been about casual things: the weather, court, and such. Subjects that Miles was able and willing to talk about without feeling a slew of unknown, nearly-uncontrollable emotions rise up within him.
Yet several times during the afternoon, Miles caught himself thinking about Wright’s theory. How less control could mean more control. An absurd idea, Miles knew, but still he found himself considering it, turning it over in his mind. By the time he was dropping off a grateful Wright at his repaired apartment complex, Miles couldn’t stop wondering.
And now, as he was preparing for bed several hours later, Miles realized that he was actually going to try the absurd idea.
Sitting on his bed with a sigh, Miles once more thought it over. There was no reason why Wright’s theory should work, but he had made a point with his supporting evidence. Also, there could be no harm in trying, right? If it didn’t work, Miles could always increase his control once more. Hopefully.
Again, no harm in trying.
Closing his eyes, Miles focused on the intricate system of controls he had set up around his emotions. Carefully he picked the outermost layer of his defenses and slowly undid them. The reaction was instantaneous. His scar flared in sudden pain, and with a surprised hiss he gripped at the upraised, pale flesh. As the seconds ticked by, the pain lessened, going from a sharp sensation to a dull throbbing, and then to nothing.
It was then that Miles realized that he felt somehow…lighter. As if he had slipped off an unknown weight that had been pressing down on his shoulders for years. Feeling oddly relieved, Miles lifted the covers and settled himself into his bed. Within minutes he was asleep.
That night, no nightmares came to haunt his dreams.
~*~*~*~*~*
- First of all, sorry for the update gap! I warned you that I was going to be busy.
- I apologize for the crapiness of dialoge/explanation. Again, writing at two in the mornking really doesn't work out well for me.
- The tenses may change every now and then halfway through. That's because I'm working on Script Frenzy right now, and guess what? Scripts are in present tense. Please point it out if you see it.
- Perfection is key~! Tell me any errors you find.
Author: twilights_blue
Rating: PG-13 for now
Warnings: Eventual slash, lack of beta, etc.
Chapter: Three
Summary: And so Phoenix found himself in a situation similar to the one he was in a week ago. Stalemate.
Apparently, the first step in having an extremely personal conversation with Miles Edgeworth was to make tea.
As Phoenix watched the prosecutor move about the kitchen, he considered mentioning that the tea could wait. However, he noticed the tension lining Edgeworth’s shoulders, the minute trembling in his hands, and the constant and absent touches to his right arm, just below the elbow. Perhaps making tea, something Edgeworth did often, was simply being used as a calming ritual. As Phoenix had seen the night before, getting lost in a simple chore, like cooking, allowed the prosecutor to relax and collect himself. Since that probably meant that Edgeworth would be more open to talking, Phoenix decided to stay quiet and not question the other man’s actions.
Within a few minutes, both men were seated in the living room once more, Phoenix on the couch, Edgeworth in the armchair farthest away from the attorney. Bright morning light streamed through the tall windows, jarring just a little with the tense silence of the room and illuminating Edgeworth’s pale yet composed face. The silence lasted for quite a while, both men quietly sipping their tea. Phoenix’s blue eyes kept flicking expectantly to Edgeworth, who sat with his eyes lowered in thought. Finally, the prosecutor placed his drained teacup on the low table before him with a small sigh. Phoenix quickly followed suit, wanting to give Edgeworth his full attention.
The grey-haired man was silent for another moment, eyes distant. Finally he turned his grey gaze to the waiting attorney.
“Do you recall what I told you about how I received this?” Edgeworth’s fingers lightly brushed the raised skin of his scar, which was exposed once more by the prosecutor’s neatly rolled-up sleeve.
Phoenix nodded. “You said that you were…attacked.”
“Correct.” Edgeworth paused, swallowing a little before continuing. “What I told you was true. I got lost in the Black Forest as a child. When the sun went down, something…found me. I tried running, but it was much faster than me. It was trying to drag me away by my arm when help finally arrived.”
“Edgeworth--” Phoenix began softly, but the prosecutor quickly brushed away the attorney’s words.
“Not now, Wright. I’m not finished, and I need to keep talking before I change my mind about this whole situation.”
After eyeing Phoenix warningly for one more brief moment, Edgeworth continued. “A nearby hospital cleaned the wound the mons- the creature - gave me. I was patched up and released within two hours.” A deep, shuddering breath. “I was readmitted that same afternoon; I had collapsed, and was burning up with a near-deadly fever.”
Edgeworth tried to ignore the sympathetic sound that came from his listener, but he couldn’t resist looking up. He looked into concerned blue eyes for just a second before looking away once more.
“The fever lasted for five days, breaking when my wound completely - and abruptly - healed. Those five days were excruciating. I was in pain the entire time, and it felt like someone had laced my bones with liquid fire, while my wound felt frozen, like ice.
“I don’t have many memories of my hospitalization - the pain and fever were sufficient enough to blur my perception of reality. According to the doctors, however, I had acted wild, crazed, more animal than human. When I finally woke up clear-headed for the first time in days, I had restraints around my wrists and chest.”
Edgeworth went silent for a moment, eyes dark with the pain of memory, fingers gently working at the scar. Phoenix considered saying something reassuring, but stopped himself. Speaking may make Edgeworth balk, and the prosecutor so desperately needed to talk, to relieve himself of a burden several years old.
The grey-haired man shifted a little in his seat. “After an extremely quick recovery that left the doctors dumbstruck, I went back home. For the next few weeks I lived like I had before the…the incident, focusing on my studies and little else. Everything seemed to have gone back to normal.
“A few weeks later, I was shown that things for me were no longer normal.” Edgeworth briefly closed his eyes and let out a small, pained sigh. “I got in a heated argument with a colleague of mine one day. We got very close to blows, and we probably would have fought, had I not abruptly broken away from the situation.
“During the argument, my temper had become dangerously high. My scar, only about a month old at the time, became suddenly painful. Alarmed, I went to my room, which was fortunate, because moments later I was no longer exactly human.”
He took a deep breath. “The…change? Transformation? Whatever you wish to call what happened to me, it lasted for nearly an hour; long enough for me to realize that it was not a dream. By the time I was human once more my mind was racing, trying to find some way to rationalize what had happened, what was still happening, to me.
“I quickly lit on an idea that explained everything neatly, if not attractively: the stress I had imposed onto myself had finally broke me. Witnessing my father’s death just a few years beforehand, studying to near-exhaustion every day, getting attacked by something and then recovering from the following illness had been too much for my mind. I was insane now, I was sure, and had hallucinated. And I also didn’t doubt that the delusion would repeat itself.”
Edgeworth paused, and he refused to look up, apparently afraid to see whatever expression was being played out on Phoenix’s face. “You must remember I was still a child while all of this was happening. I was a child, and I had just decided that I had gone mad. The irrational decision I made that day was simply a result of those factors. I decided that the best way to combat my madness was to isolate myself and distract my mind from it. Hopefully, without any external contact and with more work, I’d be able to repress my insanity before anyone else noticed it. So I quickly locked myself away in my room and increased my studies, only allowing myself sleep when I collapsed over my desk and notes.
“Obviously, this method of healing had quite an adverse effect on me. My exhaustion lowered my stamina and mental strength, which actually increased the frequency of my transformations. My self-enforced imprisonment also gained attention, and the rumors I had been hoping to prevent began to spread from the house to the rest of the neighborhood. And yet, as things continued to deteriorate, I continued with my plan, hoping that maybe, just maybe, it would one day work.
“The entire situation lasted for two months. Two months of little sleep, of reading books until my vision blurred, of listening to people plead with me on the other side of my bedroom door to please, please just go outside for a little bit. Two months of the changes becoming more frequent, until I couldn’t go an hour without switching from one form to another. And then, one day, I woke up at my desk to find a woman sitting on my bed, staring at me. I was too startled to ask questions or to move, and the woman simply continued to watch me. Finally, she opened her mouth and spoke. She only said four words, but they were enough: ‘You are not insane’.”
A ghost of a smile traced Edgeworth’s lips. “I don’t think I can explain how relieved that one little phrase made me. Here was a stranger, someone who, even though she appeared so mysteriously, seemed to know what was going on with me. And it definitely wasn’t madness. One of the greatest weights I have ever carried was lifted off my shoulders just like that.
“After giving me a moment to recover from the shock, my visitor quickly explained herself. She had been traveling through town when she heard rumors of a boy that had suddenly started locking himself away from everyone else, and that every now and then strange things could be heard happening within the room. Recognizing some of the signs, she had sought me out immediately, hoping to save me from destroying my health over something that could not be fixed. She was a werewolf, and she told me that I had recently been changed into one as well. To prove that she wasn’t lying, she changed into a wolf and back for me. What really proved her true identity to me was the scar on her shoulder, a scar that was the exact shape and size of my own, if only on a different part of the body.
“My visitor stayed with me for nearly a week, teaching me what I needed to know in order to survive as a nonhuman in a human world. Mostly she gave me tips on how to cope with my newly acquired abilities, as well as a few warnings. She was about to tell me how to control transformations when she suddenly disappeared. Apparently, something had pressured her to leave abruptly without telling me, leaving me alone with one of my biggest questions unanswered.
“I quickly created my own answer for my problem. I had noticed the correlation between my emotional state and my changes. With a little experimentation, I discovered that if I kept my emotions under a tight control, I’d be able to stay human for an extended amount of time. I was aware that the method was probably not the correct one, but it worked well enough for me at the time, and so I did not question it. Soon enough, I left my room for the first time in two months, much to the shock of the household. I quickly reverted to my normal life pattern, mingling with the rest of society as I studied. Things continued normally, save for my changes every now and then. Those became less and less frequent, however, as I continuously refined my emotional control.
“And now you know what’s wrong with me. I know it sounds mad - it still does to me, sometimes, and I’m the one who has to live with it. However, I must emphasize that I am indeed telling you the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.”
~*
Silence seeped into the room when Miles finally stopped talking. His mouth was perfectly dry, and he fiddled absently with his teacup, wishing he hadn’t drunk all the tea before speaking. He didn’t think he’d ever been so desperate for something to drink in his life.
But at that moment tea would have to wait. The bigger concern, of course, was Wright. Wright, who had yet to say anything about all that Miles had told him. The prosecutor was getting nervous about the attorney’s silence, but was still unable to make himself look up at the other man. He didn’t want to see the incredulity he expected to see on Wright’s face after hearing such a mad--
“I believe you.”
The words were said so easily and firmly that they startled Miles into looking up. Wright was leaning forward in his seat, arms resting on his thighs, hands loosely clasped together. The look on his face mirrored his words: confident and honest. It caught Miles off balance. He had been expecting a blank, maybe even frightened, look after he had finished talking. Perhaps a slow, hesitant question about whether or not Miles had forgotten to take a some sort of medication that morning. This complete acceptance, however…Miles just couldn’t wrap his head around it. And yet, at the same time, he felt a sort of utter relief that the other man did not consider him insane.
“Really?” Miles asked softly, doubtfully. “You actually believe everything I told you?”
Wright shrugged. “Pretty much,” he answered casually. “I mean, yeah, it’s a little bizarre to consider, but I do run with a pretty odd crowd myself. Spirit mediums and all of that. It’s hard not to believe this sort of thing after a while.”
“That…makes sense, I suppose.” Miles shook his head a little, still amazed by how easily the attorney had taken all of this. “To tell you the truth, I’m still slightly surprised that I told you anything in the first place.”
“Well, I’m glad you did.” Wright offered the prosecutor a lopsided grin. “If you hadn’t said anything, I’m pretty sure I would’ve thought I’d gone crazy. It’s not every day you wake up next to a wolf, you know.”
“Ah, I’m truly sorry about that,” Miles said softly with a blush. “Recent events have made it difficult for me to get any sleep, and when I’m exhausted I no longer have complete control over when I change…”
“There’s no need to apologize - it was just startling, that’s all.” Wright paused, as if thinking, and then he said, “Speaking of recent events, you mentioned the other night that my presence has been putting an extra strain on your ability to…keep control, I think is how you say it. Was that true?”
Miles hesitated before answering, considering the consequences of what he was about to say. Seeing no immediate harm, he decided to speak truthfully. “Yes. As I said before, when I was facing you for the first time in court: your presence has burdened me with unnecessary feelings. Unnecessary, uncontrollable feelings. Since being in contact with you, I’ve accidentally transformed more than I have in the previous five years or so.”
“Oh.” A look of concern crossed Wright’s face, shadowed his blue eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” Miles said dismissively. “How were you to know that reentering my life would have such a bizarre effect on me?”
Wright looked away and said nothing, though his expression had cleared into one of deep thought. Miles let the silence stand for a moment more, wanting to make sure that the attorney had the time to absorb everything he needed to. Finally, Miles stood.
“Well, if that’s all, then I think it’s time for you to be on your way?”
Wright started, looking up confusedly at the prosecutor. “What?”
“I told you what you wanted to know,” Miles said slowly. “Now I’ll take you to your office so that you can get some work done.”
Wright shook his head, smiling a little bit now. “It’s the weekend, Edgeworth.”
“And?”
“I don’t work during the weekends. Mostly I stay home and sort through paperwork or catch up on chores.”
Miles crossed his arms, patience slightly wearing away. “Then I’ll take you to your apartment.”
“It won’t be cleared up until the afternoon, according to the guy I talked to last night.”
“Then I’ll take you to a park or somewhere that you can hang about for an hour or two,” Miles snapped irritably. He could feel his patience for the other man fraying badly. “Look, Wright, you are impeding on my own time right now. I need to get some work done--”
“No you don’t.”
Miles looked over at Wright’s confident expression and quirked an eyebrow. “Pardon?”
“I said you don’t have any work to do today.” Wright also stood and took a small step towards Miles. “If you had had work today, you would have been awake and gone hours ago. It’s not like you to go to work this late in the morning.”
“But I told you last night that I had work to do. Not a lot, but some.” Miles crossed his arms and one of his fingers began to tap. “What do have to say about that, Wright?”
“I think it’s a code. You would never stay home to work. In fact, I have the feeling you would drive all the way to the Prosecutor’s Office just to sign a single scrap of paper.” Wright grinned. “I think that when you say that you only have a bit of work to do, you mean housework. You’re rarely home, so I can see how basic everyday chores can become a large-scale job. Plus, saying you have work when you actually have a day off helps keep the bosses from the Prosecutor’s Office from throwing any more work at you.”
Miles winced. He had forgot about Wright’s uncanny ability to notice more than he let on. “…Fine then, Wright,” he growled, defeated. “You can stay until your apartment is fixed. Just don’t get in my way too much.”
Wright quickly nodded his agreement. Satisfied, Miles turned and started towards the kitchen in order to make breakfast.
“…Edgeworth?”
Miles paused and glanced over at the attorney, who was still standing in the living room. “Yes, Wright?”
Wright looked down at his feet for a moment, hesitant. When he looked back up at the prosecutor, the nervousness in his blue eyes was clearly visible. “Can…can I ask questions?”
Miles hesitated. Was it wise to allow Wright free reign over what he knew about Miles’ condition? The prosecutor didn’t think he had a choice. If Wright’s curiosity was not satisfied now, it could lead to unanticipated problems later on. So he gave Wright a small shrug.
“If you wish, Wright. Though I reserve the right to not answer any of the questions I don’t want to.”
Wright smiled. “Don’t worry, Edgeworth. I’ll try not to be too much of an annoyance.”
~*
“So do you change with the full moon?”
Miles paused, his forkful of omelet halfway to his mouth. Wright patiently sat on the other side of the table, his head tilted questioningly. Miles set his fork down and leaned back in his chair. After a moment he shook his head slightly.
“No, Wright. That’s a myth. Lycanthropes change on demand or when they are emotionally overwhelmed. Sometimes, though, they can become wilder during the full moon. But that’s natural for many species of animals, and even humans.”
Wright nodded and went back to eating. Satisfied that he wasn’t about to get any more questions, Miles also resumed his meal.
~*
As Miles left his room about an hour later after a shower, wearing fresh clothes and carrying a basket of dirty laundry, he found Wright sitting in the hallway, waiting for him.
“Can I help you, Wright?” Miles finally asked after a moment to recover from his initial surprise.
“Do you have any special abilities? Like super-speed or heightened senses?”
Miles sighed and rolled his eyes. So the attorney was still playing this game. “We have heightened senses,” Miles answered, albeit a little impatiently. He couldn’t help it - he hated being questioned, even if he had initially allowed it. “However, I personally do not have heightened senses because I try not to embrace that aspect of myself.”
Miles started down the stairs and towards the laundry room. He heard Wright scramble to rise and follow him.
“Why not?” Wright asked as soon as he caught up.
“I don’t see a point in accepting that I have a monstrous side to myself. Therefore, I try to cut myself off from it. The stoicism and prevention of transformations are parts of that.”
They had reached the laundry room. Miles quickly opened the washing machine’s door, crouched, and starting piling in clothing. His motions were quick and abrupt, signs that he was losing his patience. And he could feel his temper flaring, little by little, because of all the questions. And yet he could do nothing to prevent it. Wright stood a few feet behind him, watching, curiosity obviously not satisfied quite yet.
“And why not?” Wright asked. “It’s not really monstrous, I don’t think.”
“I like thinking of myself as a human,” Miles snapped, “and nothing more.”
Wright’s brows furrowed in concern. “But you can’t just deny one aspect of yourself. That isn’t--”
Miles rose abruptly and shut the washing machine door with a loud snap. He turned, fixing a glare on Wright. “I think the questioning is over.”
“What?” Wright stared at Miles in surprise. “Why? All I was asking was--”
Miles turned his back on Wright. He’s done dealing with the attorney’s questions, his obvious curiosity and concern. It made Miles…uneasy.
“Don’t you think you should shower, or something?” Miles asked, trying to get rid of the other man.
“…I don’t have a change of clothes.” Wright didn’t say it as an argument - he seemed to realize that fighting wasn’t going to help in this situation. His voice was tinged in resignation.
“I’ll give you an outfit you can borrow.”
Wright stared at Miles for a moment, and Miles refused to make eye contact, afraid that he would say or do something stupid if he caught sight of the emotions playing out in the attorney’s eyes. The silence lasted for another few seconds, and then Wright sighed in resignation and moved away. Miles heard him wander up the stairs, heard the door to the guest room close overhead.
As Miles stood there, feeling various, unidentifiable emotions begin roiling through his mind, the washing machine whirled to life. With a frustrated sound, Miles sank down to a crouch against the laundry room wall and buried his face in his hands, trying to quiet the confusion in his mind.
~*
Once Phoenix had his bedroom door closed behind him, he leaned his head back and settled himself against the door’s wood with a sigh. He was at a loss with what to do with Edgeworth. It had seemed as if he was making progress, that he had finally made it back to safe ground with the other man. But then he had asked that one last little question, and he had almost heard the walls rising up between him and Edgeworth once again.
And so Phoenix found himself in a situation similar to the one he was in a week ago. Stalemate.
After running one hand wearily over his face, Phoenix pushed himself off the door and crossed the large guest bedroom to the attached bathroom. The bathroom was spacious, well-stocked with towels, soap, and shampoo. Phoenix started the shower up, and as the water heated up he stripped down, leaving his clothes in a neat pile as far away from the shower as possible. He quickly got under the spray, not wanting the chill of the air to settle onto his skin. He sighed happily at the warm, pressured spray against his back. Leaning into it a little, Phoenix allowed his mind to wander.
The last few hours with Edgeworth had truly been…enlightening, in a sense. Phoenix would never had suspected that the prosecutor was hiding something so odd, and yet here it was. Even now Phoenix was a bit dazed about what he had discovered. And yet he had managed to quickly accept the situation as truth. Edgeworth was naturally a terrible liar, and as he had said his story he had looked completely sincere and a little insecure - he believed every word he was saying. That helped Phoenix to also believe.
But the way Edgeworth addressed that side of himself, the supernatural side… Phoenix’s mouth pursed in thought as he began to wash, then rinse, his hair. He could understand wanting to resist a part of himself, of wishing it all away, but not at the level that Edgeworth was - had been - attempting it. Yes, knowing that he wasn’t human probably made Edgeworth feel isolated more often than not from everyone else, but it didn’t have to affect him as negatively as it had been. People that were more in touch with the supernatural side of the world could easily survive with the rest of the human population. Maya, with her spiritual connections, was an excellent example.
As Phoenix turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, grabbing a towel along the way, he realized that Maya truly was a great example. For the few years that the attorney had known her, the medium had shown no signs of being at odds with her abilities. Also, in that time, she had never seemed unable to control her powers. In fact, Maya was always so at ease, able to easily mingle with others and be herself, whether she was happy or upset--
Phoenix froze in the middle of wrapping a towel around his waist, something occurring to him. As he thought it over, he wanted to hit himself. What hadn’t he thought of it earlier?
Hurriedly fastening the towel about his waist, Phoenix strode across the bedroom and opened the door, stepping into the hallway. “Edgeworth?”
“In here, Wright.”
Turning his head towards the voice, Phoenix spotted another open door further down the hall. He quickly walked over, discovering a very spacious bedroom decorated in various shades of magenta. Edgeworth was currently going through some drawers on the far end of the room, sorting through clothes.
“Interesting outfit choice, Wright,” Edgeworth said, looking over the still-dripping attorney with a quirked eyebrow. “Were the clothes I left for you in front of your room not satisfactory?”
Phoenix shook his head. In fact, he hadn’t even noticed the clothes laid out for him. He was too focused on his theory right now. “I want to ask you something--”
Edgeworth stiffened. “No. I’m done with that.”
“Please, Edgeworth,” Phoenix practically begged, crossing the room to stand next to Edgeworth. “I promise that this will be the last question I ask about this. I’ll leave you alone for a while after that.”
Edgeworth turned and studied Phoenix’s face with harsh grey eyes. Finally he sighed and looked away. “All right,” he muttered. “Ask your question, Wright.”
“The person who helped you all those years ago, the one who left before she told you everything. You mentioned that she was in complete control of her…changes. What was she like personality-wise? Was she open with her emotions?”
Edgeworth looked down at his hands for a few seconds, mouth a tight line as he tried to remember. Finally he looked up at Phoenix once more. “Yes, she was. She was very lighthearted, but had a quick temper. She was also…accepting. Of both herself and her situation in life.”
Phoenix grinned triumphantly as everything clicked into place in his head. “I knew it.”
The prosecutor gave him a suspicious look. “I know that I probably shouldn’t, but I’ll ask anyway: you knew what, Wright?”
“What if I told you,” Phoenix said easily, seeming to avoid the question, “that I figured out a method that could reduce your stress?”
Edgeworth became more attentive at that. And wary. “And what would that method be, exactly?”
“Simple,” the attorney answered with a nonchalant shrug. “All of that mental and emotional control you have? Your refusal to accept that you’re not human? Get rid of it.”
The look Edgeworth gave Phoenix could not have been more shocked if the attorney had told the prosecutor to voluntarily saw off his own hand. “You can’t be serious, Wright.”
“Oh, but I am!” Phoenix smiled as he began to explain. “For the last several years, you’ve built your life on emotional control. You believe that it helps you stay human. But I think that that’s the hard way to go about it. You’re only adding more mental stress on your already stressful life.
“It seems that your mentor was a lot more free with her emotions and yet was still able to keep control. Plus she was at ease with herself, with who she was. This shows me that if you stopped struggling to be something you’re not, then things may smooth out for you. You won’t abruptly change as often, you’ll get rid of a whole mess of unwanted stress, and you’ll be able to freely show emotion. A win-win-win situation, if you ask me.”
Edgeworth stared at Phoenix in faint disbelief. He opened his mouth as if to speak, paused, and abruptly closed it again. Finally the prosecutor shook his head.
“I can’t do that, Wright,” Edgeworth said wearily.
“What? Why not?”
“You’re asking me to utterly change a large part of my personality, of my life.” Edgeworth shook his head again. “That’s nearly impossible for me to do. Not to mention the fact that you don’t even know if that method of yours will even work.”
The prosecutor began to turn away, but Phoenix reached out, grasping the grey-haired man’s shoulders and forcing him to stay. “Please,” Phoenix murmured, “can’t you just try it? I want to help with this Edgeworth.”
A pause followed the attorney’s plea, Edgeworth scanning the other man’s earnest blue eyes uncertainly. Finally he looked away. “I’ll think about it.”
Phoenix smiled a little. “That’s all I ask.”
“Hm.” Edgeworth looked back at the attorney cautiously. Suddenly he smirked. “Go get dressed now. You’re dripping all over my carpet and I’m sure you can’t afford to remove any stains.”
Phoenix took the hint and left, shutting the other man’s bedroom door behind him. He smiled as he went back to his room, finally feeling as if he was making progress.
~*
For the rest of the day, Wright had kept his promise. Any more conversation between the two men had been about casual things: the weather, court, and such. Subjects that Miles was able and willing to talk about without feeling a slew of unknown, nearly-uncontrollable emotions rise up within him.
Yet several times during the afternoon, Miles caught himself thinking about Wright’s theory. How less control could mean more control. An absurd idea, Miles knew, but still he found himself considering it, turning it over in his mind. By the time he was dropping off a grateful Wright at his repaired apartment complex, Miles couldn’t stop wondering.
And now, as he was preparing for bed several hours later, Miles realized that he was actually going to try the absurd idea.
Sitting on his bed with a sigh, Miles once more thought it over. There was no reason why Wright’s theory should work, but he had made a point with his supporting evidence. Also, there could be no harm in trying, right? If it didn’t work, Miles could always increase his control once more. Hopefully.
Again, no harm in trying.
Closing his eyes, Miles focused on the intricate system of controls he had set up around his emotions. Carefully he picked the outermost layer of his defenses and slowly undid them. The reaction was instantaneous. His scar flared in sudden pain, and with a surprised hiss he gripped at the upraised, pale flesh. As the seconds ticked by, the pain lessened, going from a sharp sensation to a dull throbbing, and then to nothing.
It was then that Miles realized that he felt somehow…lighter. As if he had slipped off an unknown weight that had been pressing down on his shoulders for years. Feeling oddly relieved, Miles lifted the covers and settled himself into his bed. Within minutes he was asleep.
That night, no nightmares came to haunt his dreams.
~*~*~*~*~*
- First of all, sorry for the update gap! I warned you that I was going to be busy.
- I apologize for the crapiness of dialoge/explanation. Again, writing at two in the mornking really doesn't work out well for me.
- The tenses may change every now and then halfway through. That's because I'm working on Script Frenzy right now, and guess what? Scripts are in present tense. Please point it out if you see it.
- Perfection is key~! Tell me any errors you find.