boxolawyers | (no subject)

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Who: Edgeworth, The Corinthian
What: Inspired by this post. If Tyki made good on his threats to hide Edgeworth away on his world, there may be one person who could find him.
Where: The D.Gray-Man world.
When: Several days after Edgeworth's abduction.
Warnings: The aftermath of Very Bad Things, including rape and BDSM. ~~May~~ Will contain evidence or frank discussions thereof, reader discretion is advised.

By the time he woke, he couldn't remember the dream. All that lingered from it was a warm sense of reassurance that made his waking nightmare that much more painful. He groaned softly into the darkness—the monster was probably still gone, and even if he wasn't, at this point Edgeworth couldn't spare enough of his pride to care if Mikk heard. In only a matter of days he'd been stripped of so much of it. He had to save what was left, hoard every scrap for the important skirmishes.

He rolled over on the bed, or he would have, if he hadn't been left chained tightly to the head- and footboard. Slick satin sheets stuck to skin which he was beginning to think may never be clean again, clinging and damp and reeking of sex. A disappointed whimper escaped him before he could choke it down. Fighting a fleeting, traitorous desire for Mikk's return, he lay there and stared at the black ceiling.

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Something had been very wrong. He hadn't thought too much of it, at first; missed calls, missed visits, they could have been coincidental. Edgeworth had always been a busy man, as he was always quick to remind the nightmare. But several days with no word between them was a little strange, even for him.

It was the dreams that really tipped him off. What should have been another routine nightmare, twisting right off the rails in a direction the Corinthian couldn't follow. He had to call it off. He had to keep the man sleeping, needed him to dream long enough to trace the thread of his subconscious, and when Edgeworth woke up....

The click of a switchblade answered the whimper, all too loud in the silence, as the nightmare looked around the darkened room. He couldn't say he knew exactly what he was supposed to be expecting, but so far the silence seemed reassuring enough. Even so, his voice was low when he spoke up. "Edgeworth....?

The snick rang in his ears, startling him into holding his breath. His eyes widened, his every muscle tensing like coiled wire. Was it Mikk readying some new toy for another round of his own depraved version of playtime, or some curious (or, God help him, eager) member of his large household? Whoever it was, Edgeworth didn't expect anything good to come of their presence.

But that voice proved him wrong.

He struggled to lift his head, strained to make out a figure in the darkness. A sick hope began to smolder in his chest, choking off the name that he didn't dare voice for fear of driving this dream away.

"Edgeworth." It only took of few seconds for his sight to adjust to the dark, the shadows taking up vague shapes that he could just make out. Someone's room, from the look of it, and he didn't like the uneasy feeling that knotted up inside him at the thought.

A small movement at his side caught his attention. He turned toward it - to the bed, he noted after a moment of study - and was about to disregard it until the shape on it-- the figure laying on it, formed against the dark. And suddenly that feeling turned to lead in his chest.

He dropped to the side of the bed, a very long, very colorful string of curses filling the air, knife falling forgotten onto the sheets as he hastily fumbled with the nearest set of chains.

"Oh God!" Edgeworth rasped, and his throat burned. His wrists stung as he strained against the chains, trying to sit up and find his dear friend's eyes (covered or uncovered, it didn't matter which) in the dark. "Corinthian, oh my God..."

Words failed him then, moments before his strength did. He fell back on the bed with the disproportionate weight of an unconscious body. There he lay, staring hungrily at the Corinthian's shadowed form and delighting in his brash curses.

He didn't need to see the man's state to guess what had happened, what had likely been happening for days now. The only answer Edgeworth got this time was a small grunt as he continued to fight with the restraints, but that was getting harder as the seconds passed; someone was going to pay for this. Someone was going to die, and it was taking all had to stay put, to not run off and find the one responsible. When his shaking fingers slipped from the chains a third time, he finally gave up. He gripped Edgeworth's hand tightly instead.

And half a moment later they were in the prosecutor's living room, and the nightmare quickly set his friend's body as carefully as he could onto the couch, checked over the extent of his injuries, his worry vanishing under the anger that etched itself deeper into his face with every passing second.

Edited 2011-07-16 07:44 (UTC)

For a moment, as the Corinthian fumbled with the chains, worry began to creep in and Edgeworth's heart sank. Then the nightmare clasped his hand; Edgeworth felt as if strength were flowing between them, and suddenly they were somewhere else, with familiar lumps of shadow and a familiar set of French doors across the room, curtains open to reveal a patch of clear night sky. His tired mind reprimanded itself for ever doubting the nightmare.

As gentle as the Corinthian was, Edgeworth still couldn't help but wince when he was laid on the couch. Cold breath hissed through his teeth. The air raised gooseflesh across his entire body, spreading tiny distortions along the surface of the countless bruises, welts, scratches, and cuts that were laid bare for the nightmare to see.

Fathomless shame suddenly welled up inside of him. He struggled to pull himself up, as if sitting would somehow lessen the effect of him being naked and beaten before one of his closest friends.

"Hey, don't--" The Corinthian backed off as he moved, and seemed to hesitate for a moment before he helped the man sit up, gently, still fumbling over him with shaking hands. Too many injuries. Too many that probably could have been avoided altogether if he had tried to look for Edgeworth sooner, hadn't counted on his disappearance to be a happy coincidence. The rage swelled inside that much more at the thought; this time at himself, more than anyone.

When he finally managed a solid grip on Edgeworth's shoulder, he held it tight, and looked at him with a hard expression. "Who was it?"

The nightmare's help mostly served to heighten his embarrassment, but Edgeworth could at least be grateful to be sitting somewhat under his own power, rather than lying there powerless. He couldn't bear to be helpless again, not even before a friend.

The barely contained rage that smoldered under the Corinthian's words drew him out of his self-absorbtion. He met his eyes for the first time since they arrived in his apartment, and his own eyes were wide with alarm. "Someone I suspect may be out of your reach. I'm not eager to find out for sure if I'm right."

If Edgeworth had been hoping that the answer would placate the nightmare, that....wasn't quite the effect it had. If anything, the Corinthian's grip tightened further, before he caught himself, pulled his hand back and straightened up.

"No one can hide from me, Edgeworth," he said after a pause, a low growl lingering just under his tone. "You know that. Now who the hell is it?"

Edited 2011-07-16 09:25 (UTC)

Edgeworth winced again. This time the pain was fresh, the ache of fingertips digging too tightly into already tender flesh. A sharp spike of fear shot through him, fluttering in his eyes. He had to remind himself who he was dealing with now and hold to the man's anger, which was oddly reassuring as well as frightening. His tormentor had never demonstrated rage like that. Mikk seemed to enjoy everything he did. The closest he'd ever come to anger was frustration, and that he simply exercised with punishments gleefully doled out.

Edgeworth shuddered and wrapped his arms around himself at his waist, hiding his sore genitals.

"Finding him isn't the problem."

'Even if it was, he's sure to find me...'

"I'm worried about what will happen when you do."

The wince didn't go unnoticed, and the nightmare backed away immediately. He clentched his fists, watched the man for a moment. But he held back whatever it was he wanted to say.

Instead, the nightmare left the room. It wasn't for long; after a few minutes of him shuffling things around somewhere down the hall, he returned with a blanket in hand, handing it to Edgeworth as he took a seat beside him, mindful to keep his distance.

"You know damn well what will happen when I do." He kept his voice low, as tightly under control as he could, but there was no hesitation to his words. There was no point in trying to hide what his intentions were this time, not in the face of something like this. "I'm going to make sure it doesn't fucking happen again."

Edgeworth looked him straight in the eye, expectant, stern. But when the nightmare suddenly disappeared from the room, his certainty faltered. He stared down the hall after him, unsure of what he was doing (what might be coming). His stomach gave a sick lurch as nervous anticipation suffused his body, and he had to turn away from that dark doorway, squeeze his eyes shut and massage his arm in an old, familiar gesture.

Thankfully, he managed to keep from starting when he registered the Corinthian's presence hovering before him, though his eyes shot open a bit too quickly. The blanket was a welcome sight. He laid it across his body, awkwardly tucking it in around his shoulders as tightly as he could while the nightmare said words he didn't want to hear.

"...You will try," he eventually replied. His gaze was fixed on the dark, red-brown stain marring his pristine carpet. "You will undoubtedly make things...extremely unpleasant for him. He's probably unwittingly forfeited all his restful nights from this point on. Beyond that..."

Wearily he turned to meet his friend's eyes. "Beyond that, there are no guarantees. He's more than a formidable opponent. He's untouchable."

And all at once, the Corinthian felt a small pang of guilt. His expression softened, the rage ebbing away just a little, and he ran a hand awkwardly through his hair as he looked away. Right. That wasn't what Edgeworth needed right now. He was still at a loss for what he did need, what else he could do for the situation, but dealing with the nightmare's own anger wasn't it, and he listened as calmly as he could.

His smirk came all too easily, though the voice behind it was still tight. "I'm a fucking nightmare, Edgeworth. Do you know just how much 'untouchable' means to something like me?"

In the guilt he read the stirrings of pity, and pity was the last thing he wanted to be the target of. When vexation presented itself in the form of the nightmare's obvious skepticism over his assessment of Mikk, he pounced on it readily.

"I have a very good idea." His tone was a subtle chastisement. Did he think Edgeworth would needlessly work himself up over a mediocre opponent? "And my assessment still stands. He is untouchable in a very literal sense. His mind may be vulnerable to you, but I'm not at all sure his body would be."

The tone wasn't lost on him, and the nightmare bristled just slightly under it, almost turned to him and almost snapped. He held it check, though nothing could hide the way his eyes narrowed.

"Then maybe his body won't be the part of him I bother with," he said after a pause.

Edgeworth narrowed his eyes in return, perfectly prepared to snap back if needed. Such a skirmish would almost be welcome, a temporary return to normalcy.

What the Corinthian did instead was less easy to respond to. He learned long ago what it meant to wish for brutal punishments to be doled out to someone who had wronged him. He had promised himself he would never walk that path again. He refused to allow someone else to walk it for him, yet...

"He's not alone. There's at least one other. He said she could enter dreams and nightmares. And he has other powers besides intangibility." A flash of purple fluttered through his mind, and he dropped his gaze with a shudder, suddenly aware of how little his position had actually changed. Hollowly, he continued. "He values his would-be friends on the community very highly. He won't allow anything or anyone to...tarnish their opinion of him."

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