Brother-sister bond

[darkvonkarma.livejournal.com]

Who:  Franziska, Miles.
Where:  The High School/
When:  After Franziska posts worrying over Miles, and after Gregory and Miles meet. Before Franziska's tantrum. Woo backlogged :D
Rating:  PG-13, a little swearing and sappyness.
Summary:  Miles and Franziska meet up and pretend not to like each other.
the log:  

Her arm had stopped bleeding, but it was still painful to move. She'd need to get new clothes - according to Papa, not an easy task here - but for now, these were the only thing she had.

She'd stayed up late - in part to be catch up on the journals, and in part because every time she closed her eyes, the monster she'd killed came back to her - so she had noticed Edgeworth's reply quickly. Papa was still sleeping, but it was probably better to meet her little brother away from him, just in case. She hurried into the front hallway to wait for him.

 

Discedo. The very name of the city disgruntled him. In less than forty-eight hours, he had become ill, soaking wet, irate, and thoroughly exhausted. As much as the idea of speaking with Father seemed more reasonable, Franziska did show some concern... or whatever compassion a Von Karma could give. His fever didn't seem to assist with his current circumstances, but he buried himself in his coat, stood up straight, and walked into the high school with an agitated sigh.

 

He looked a little ill, bundled up in his red jacket, and smaller than usual. She kept her face neutral, but inside she was worried. Had he been attacked as well? Those damned dogs couldn't get enough of her, but perhaps they only liked her...She faced him, pulling on her torn sleeve to cover the bandages. "Miles Edgeworth. You are unwell?"

 

He immediately took note of her arm, but decided against asking about it, partially from fatigue and partially from her pride. With a gentle cough, he again straightened himself up and kept his usual expression for fear of appearing vulnerable. "I am fine, Miss Von Karma. There is a reason you wanted to see me, correct?" His voice was a bit coarse, but he tried to sound as 'well' as possible.

 

Her ears were sharp - she could sense something off about his voice - but she refrained from saying anything. If he was acting fine, then he did not wish to speak about it.

She shifted a little, suddenly unsure of herself, choosing her words carefully. "I was just checking on you, Miles Edgeworth," she said finally. It seemed inadequate, but it was hard to say anything else. Grudgingly, she added, "It appears you were right. This city is very dangerous."

 

He shook his head a bit and looked back at Franziska for quite a while with a blank look. His first thoughts were of concern for her, because as much as she would love to be 'perfect', it wasn’t human... and jumping into dangerous situations like that could get you killed - or worse - in this city. Slipping to the back of his mind as he developed a slight fever were just how reckless he had been for his short time, his father, and how he needed to rest. After a few awkward moments, he nodded, looking away as he began to speak. "Dangerous seems to be an understatement for such a place." After all, any place that could control life itself was... illogical, if not completely dangerous. "Regardless, I'm glad to see you are alright. It seems that you didn't need my help after all." His sentences were stuttery and shaky, but his face remained the same.

 

She looked at him sharply. "You are ill." As a sister, she had to take care of him...but how? She had no chicken soup....

 

He returned the look with a sigh. "I'll live." A smile almost escaped from his face to see Franziska worrying over him, but a cold would certainly not mean death.

 

She narrowed her eyes at him, unconvinced. "I will ask Papa for a blanket for you. He is in charge of inventory," she added, with a touch of pride. Of course her Papa was in charge of something here - in fact, she was surprised that he hadn't initiated a legal system, court times, possibly a curfew for the idiots that appeared to be everywhere...

 

"Franziska." His tone was rather sharp, despite the obvious coarseness of his voice. If there was anything Edgeworth detested, it was admitting he needed help, which he had already received his fair share of in the past day or two. "I assure you, I'm fine. Is there anything you wish to discuss? I have quite a bit of... business... to settle back at the police station." A slight expression of unease spread across his face at the idea of returning to speak with father... and braving the rain again.

 

She drew back, insulted. Was she not allowed the small concern for a man she had known for as long as she could remember? Was he not grateful that he had family here? Did he want to catch pneumonia and die and be eaten by dogs?

She turned on her heel away from him, cold. "No. There is nothing."

 

The harshness of his very words came straight back to him. Perhaps he had been a bit... selfish. After a long pause, he wrapped an arm around Franziska, careful to make sure to not bother her wound. "Forgive me, I've been harsh. I suppose the weather got to me a bit." He turned away, not daring enough to say more.

 

She turned her head away from him. He'd lost his chance to stay on her good side. And with Franziska, one chance was all she would give...at least until tomorrow. "Go deal with your business, Miles Edgeworth."

 

With a solemn nod, he began to turn towards the door. Before making his way out, he slipped a small package into Franziska's hand. It was indeed quite wet, but it's the thought that counts. Taking one step towards the door, he turned back to Franziska to see her reaction to the small heart shaped box he had planted in her hands.

 

She stopped. He'd given her something - something wet and sort of disgusting feeling - but her composure broke when she looked at it. It was a little heart box - why had he given her a heart box...?

Suddenly she felt horrible for turning him away. He couldn't help but be annoying sometimes - it was just what brothers did. She held it close to her chest and glanced back at him, biting her lip.

 Occasionally she wondered if he did these things on purpose to confuse her.

"You could stay for a while," she suggested, eventually, somehow unable to force a thanks from her throat. "Until the rain lets up."

 

The truth is, he felt the same, for the most part. As annoying as Franziska could be at times, she was still his litt- big sister, and he couldn't help but show her brotherly affection... she was the only consistent family member he had, after all. "...Alright." He wasn't exactly eager of the notion of going back in the cold rain in his drenched, muddy, filthy clothing anyways. A small cough and what looked like a split second attempt at a smile spread across his face.

 

She was grateful that he didn't argue, but her knee was hurting from where she'd scrapped it and he was looking pale. The schoolrooms might have desks...but she was still wary of wandering around here, even though Papa had said the school was safe.

Well, the floor was a good a place as any (considering that her clothes were already ruined). She slid down against the wall and opened the box gingerly. Fortunately, the chocolates seemed fine, so she offered one to Miles.

 

A small smirk spread across his face, but he refused the chocolates. "They were intended for you." There was an increasing amount of tension spreading across his face, but he tried to conceal it. The idea of being in the very building Manfred Von Karma was quite stressful. Giving in to his fatigue, he sat down next to Franziska quietly, still remaining as aware as possible of the other people residing in the building.

 

Well, chocolates were probably not good for sick people, anyway. Franziska tried it, slowly; it had already occurred to her that such luxuries were going to become quite scarce here. It was dark chocolate, obviously finely made; she enjoyed it silently for a few moments before putting the rest away, for later. "What sort of business have you at the police station?" she queried, surprised that he would already be involved in law enforcement here.

 

Edgeworth was a bit surprised by the question. He was hoping Franziska would not ask about his 'business', and in a slight nervous panic changed the topic. "How is your arm?" He looked away silently, realizing that was pretty likely to be the wrong topic to bring up because it might imply that he didn't care. What else could he say? Discussing something so sensitive as his father simply was not an option.

 

Well, if that wasn't the most obvious avoidance of a topic ever...She considered grilling him about it, but let him slide for the moment. "Fine. I was attacked by..." she trailed off. "...something."

 

Edgeworth nodded. Considering her wound, it was unlikely that what wounded her were the same dogs that had tried to make mince meat of him earlier. "Here," he said quietly, handing Franziska some antiseptic. She needed it far more than he did, and he had gotten it simply in case she had been injured, which he deducted from her rapid exit from the network.

 

She blinked. What was he, psychic? And where was he getting all of these things?

"Thank you," she said slowly, taking it and looking at him closely.

 

He was a prosecutor, not a psychic. He always kept out an observant eye, despite the situation. Unfortunately for him, he was now left vulnerable to any questioning that Franziska may have, and turned away silently.

 

He turned away from her, leaving her to ponder what to do next. Asking him about his mysterious "business" (as well as his unusual preparedness for the situation) seemed a touch unfair at the moment...yet she'd always been curious...

"Where did you get it?"

 

All he could offer was the truth, silence, or lies which Franziska would see through faster than she could crack her whip. Taking a deep breath, he mulled over his limited decisions.

"I got it from my father," he finally muttered awkwardly.

 

"Your father?" She tried to process the words in her mind, but somehow, they didn't make sense. It was as though he'd begun speaking in another language. The only 'father' that there had ever been was her Papa, but he would have not needed to ask for antiseptic if he had been able to give it out. "Your father?" she repeated.

 

"Gregory Edgeworth." His face remained blank, and the name only barely made it's way out of his mouth. There was a new consistent pattern for awkward, difficult situations, and it was starting to become a bit taxing on him.

 

"Gregory Edgeworth..." had she heard that name before? Perhaps...perhaps... "DL-6," she muttered.

 

Edgeworth trembled at the very mention of the DL-6 incident. He began to speak, but could not possibly think of one thing to say. The impact that the DL-6 incident had still shook him up to this day.

 

"DL-6," she said again, musing, unaware of the pain she was causing her little brother. She knew the case a bit; it'd been about her Papa, after all - and about Miles, of course...

She turned back to him and realized that he was shaking.

Hmm.

…Awkward.

Should she hold him...?

"Well, you...have the chance to talk to him again," she said awkwardly.

 

"That conversation fared well." If he was a child -or if he was a child that was allowed to act as one, rather- he would have already broken down into tears.

 

...yes, holding him was probably a good idea now. Hesitantly, she put her arms around his neck, and leaned against his wet shoulder.

....was she supposed to say something? Perhaps apologize? She wasn't sure - she had never been good at emotional things.

 

He quickly shook her off. He may have had a cold, but that did not mean that he was any less stubborn. "I must return to the police station." His face slowly turned cold as he stood up. Burying himself in his coat, he headed towards the door.

 

She reached out to him, but he was too fast and her arm was hurting again. And a little voice inside her told her to let him go. She stood awkwardly, rubbing her wounded arm. The skin had broken again, but she could patch herself up later. "...Stay safe, Miles Edgeworth."

 

Within moments, he was gone. He felt guilty for leaving her, but it was already in the past as he returned to the police station. Hopefully there he could find something to bury his mood.