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All Those Years Ago

Title--All Those Years Ago
Fandom--Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney
Characters--Miles, Franziska, brief mentions of Payne and Gant
Genre--Angst/Drama
Rating/Warnings--PG/PG-13. Severe beating, graphic descriptions of a beaten character, and character death (depending on which ending you choose).
Pairing(s)--N/A
Summary--One of Franziska's lessons goes too far, and one prosecutor pays for it.
Word Count--1,749
Chapters--1 and an alternate ending
Status--Complete.
Betaed?--No.

A/N: Can't believe I didn't post the prompt with this when I originally posted it. The fic was written for a PW Kink Meme prompt, which is God knows where, I have yet to go back and look through the KM's twenty parts and find it again. But anyways, the prompt:

"Franziska, furious at Edgeworth for running off after 1-4/1-5, whips him nonstop.

Before she realizes what she's done, he's at the brink of death.
"

---


Franziska von Karma tore down the 12th floor hallway of the Prosecutor’s Office building, searching madly for 317. There was a small, small voice in the back of her head that told her she was completely overreacting to the situation—after all, what did she care if her little brother had made a foolish mistake and foolishly run away from his duty? The prodigy had sworn off all contact with him after he had left Germany all those years ago in an attempt to run, yet again, from his problems.

 

But that’s just it, she thought to herself sullenly. “The fool needs to be taught a lesson for leaving. Von Karmas do not just leave, with their tails between their legs. Even if he is not a von Karma by blood, he still bears the reputation as one, and I shall not let him tarnish the name. Foolishly foolish fool, thinking he can just walk off like the fool he is.”

 

The pure rage Franziska had been holding in throughout the flight from Germany was staring to poke white holes in her vision. Luckily for her, a bronze nameplate on a door bore the number she was searching for. Without a second thought, she burst into the office, whip at the ready.

 

At first, she thought that the idiotic looking police officer she had whipped the office number out of had been mistaken-the room was completely empty. The oak bookshelves held no books; there were no curtains on the windows or anything adorning the desk but an open leather suitcase. All of a sudden, the man Franziska had been looking for popped his head out from under the desk, coughing slightly.

 

“Miles Edgeworth!” She cracked her whip on the floor, causing his head to shoot towards her. A few moments passed before grim recognition passed over his face.

 

“I was hoping I wouldn’t see you, Franziska.”

 

“A foolish hope of a foolish fool. You would’ve known, had your mind been filled with anything other than foolishly foolish thoughts, that your stunt would drag me to this filthy country.”

 

He sighed, standing up and closing his suitcase.

 

“You wouldn’t understand…so there’s no need to waste my time explaining my reasons behind my resignation.”

 

She stalked inside the spacious room, slamming the door closed behind her. There it was, plastered all over his face-that same look of you don’t know, you’re too young that he had left her with the last time they had seen each other. She hated that look; she had received it too many times, from every single person that she had come in contact with in her legal career.

 

You’re too young.

 

Go back to middle school; get some knowledge before playing in the big leagues.

 

The blue haired woman had always wiped that look off the faces of the people around her. There was no reason that it would be any different with her little brother.

 

“You are a foolish, foolish fool, Miles Edgeworth, and you should not be related to the von Karma family in any way.” Three long strides and she was a foot away from the desk, and two feet away from Edgeworth. He had subconsciously pulled back a bit in fear of the vicious look in her eyes. The hand holding her whip visibly twitched as a predatory smirk pulled across her face.

 

“You left me, years ago. You left because you were a scared little fool, and you fled to this country. Now, you’re trying to run again. I’m not letting you run this time…I’m not letting you stain the von Karma name again, with your foolish cowardice.”

 

The magenta suited prosecutor managed to return Franziska’s withering glare, but just barely. He knew, and she knew that he knew, and that’s what was going to make this all the sweeter…

 

“And now you still think that you know more, that I am a foolish little girl trying to be an adult. Little do you know, Miles Edgeworth, that while you were fleeing from whatever it was in Germany, I grew up. It’s about time you did.”

 

Before he could fully comprehend what was happening, her leather was hitting him everywhere. The sound of the whip ruthlessly slamming against every piece of Miles Edgeworth Franziska could reach filled the room. He had experienced this before, while living in the von Karma household with the vile young girl, but it always stopped after a few minutes, so he expected it to be a few minutes before she left.

 

It didn’t end.

 

She kept swinging the blasted weapon at him, and he started to collapse. Even when he was on the floor, back against the wood table behind his desk and begging for her to stop, the prodigy didn’t. She couldn’t. She wasn’t seeing the bruising form of her foster brother, or even of a man that was being beaten senseless, but all the things that had gone wrong in her life. Her sister leaving; her father’s constant disapproving stare; the familiar smirk of opponents in the courtroom; that fateful day at the airport, with her screaming and whipping and nearly begging for him to please reconsider leaving she would do anything at all just don’t leave me here alone—

 

And, finally, there was a click in Franziska’s shoulder and the next slash brought the worst physical pain she had known in her life. A scream tore from her lips, and she buckled onto the desk, panting. There were black spots in her eyes, and a fleeting thought of blacking out passed through her mind before she managed to prop herself up and look at Edgeworth, to see if she could let that familiar feeling of glory and victory flow through her at his lesson.

 

What she saw was barely recognizable as human.

 

Blood ran from (what she assumed) was his face-at least, from the parts that weren’t beginning to swell. There were rips in his clothing, and wet spots were starting to show up on his jacket and vest; presumably, they were from open wounds that had started to bleed through his clothes. The cravat that hung haphazardly from his neck was stained with red in places, as well as what was visible of his dress shirt. His hair wasn’t in the neat style that he so often sported, but lay on his face, framing the two black eyes that were starting to form and open mouth with some teeth missing and blood running from it. Franziska could only lean there, looking on open mouthed. She was shocked that her whip had caused this much damage—most of the time, it only gave her opponents bruises that would last a while, maybe a small nick. But this…

 

“How long…how long have I been whipping you?”

 

She didn’t know how long it had been before her shoulder had given out. Perhaps 10 minutes, perhaps 2 hours. It had all blurred into an unrecognizable mass of memory and yelling.

 

“M-Miles Edgeworth…are you alive?” A silent prayer went with these words. Had she killed him? “Oh, God, Miles, answer me…please don’t tell me I committed one of the biggest crimes that I have been trying to erase…”

 

There was no answer aside from a near silent cough that spattered some flecks of blood on his swollen face. She tried to see if he was breathing, tried to get up to take his pulse, but her legs refused to move. A slow, weak pulse sounded in her ears, and she wanted so badly to believe that was his heart, still working because she could absolutely not have killed this foolish man, with his once-smiling face and fool dreams that she always wanted to have but never could. Without thinking, she got up and started backing away, bloodied whip still in hand. There was a part of her that screamed I told you so, a part that told her run away before someone comes and incriminates you, and a tiny, tiny voice that told her to go back and help that foolish man that she had missed so dearly most of her teenage years.

 

She listened to the second voice and got out of that office as fast as she could.

 

. . .

 

Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth was found beaten to death in his office today. Fellow prosecutor Winston Payne had thought he heard noises coming from the 24 year old’s office, and when he went to investigate, found Edgeworth lying behind his desk.

 

“It was a real shock, I’ll tell you,” Prosecutor Payne commented. “He was beaten up worse than some of the victims I’ve seen. All bloody and bruised and swollen…real shame to see a smart kid like that die this way.”

 

Police have no leads on the murderer that are being released. At the scene, there was a written note inside of the briefcase lying on Edgeworth’s desk, bearing the simple words of “Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth chooses death”. It is being analyzed to see if the handwriting on the suicide note did, indeed, belong to Prosecutor Edgeworth.

 

At the moment, there is no public ceremony announced for the renowned prosecutor. A private service that will be open to Edgeworth's co-workers and family is being held at the end of the month.

 

ALTERNATE ENDING

 

Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth, renowned throughout the country as being one of the most ruthless and efficient prosecutors ever known to the US, is currently in the hospital. He was found by fellow prosecutor Winston Payne lying behind his desk, severely beaten, earlier this week.

 

“It sure looked bad…Prosecutor Edgeworth was beaten up worse than some of the victims I’ve come across,” Payne commented.

 

While there isn’t much being released to the public on suspects or the actual details of the assault, police assure the public that the ‘Demon Prosecutor’ is stable and will be released in a few days.

 

“Worthy had lost a lot of blood, and had to receive a blood transfusion,” Chief of Police Damon Gant said at the press conference on the matter, “but he should be up and running by the end of the week, according to the reports from the hospital I’ve gotten.”

 

Prosecutor Edgeworth is currently not accepting any visitors or gifts, and has turned down various different interviewers that have been approaching him.


Comments

( 2 comments — Leave a comment )
perverbially
Jun. 19th, 2010 12:02 am (UTC)
Ooh.

Oooh.

I always imagine that being loved by Franziska is kind of like being hated by her, and this is an excellent exploration of how badly that could go wrong: this fic has guts, seriously.

I feel the need to say Oooh! one more time. Because really... ooh.

*ponders*
burnt_heaven
Jun. 22nd, 2010 06:06 am (UTC)
Thank you very much for your comment! I'm very glad that you liked the fic and even happier that you let me know. (Especially since it, um, reminded me it was here in the first place. Totally forgot about it, unfortunately…)

I always imagine that being loved by Franziska is kind of like being hated by her--I've never thought of this before but it makes a lot of sense. Her childhood was probably, at best, emotionally stunting. So when she starts having to deal with such strong emotions--love and hate--it wouldn’t be surprising to see them get mixed up to a degree. Add into that mix-up other emotions, like anger, jealousy, loneliness, and then the stress that comes with her job…it has the potential to blow up disastrously if someone steps the wrong way with her.

Like Edgeworth. Oh, Edgeworth…

(Also, sorry for the late response. I got caught up in trying to reply well and time just sort of flew by until now.)
( 2 comments — Leave a comment )