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(no subject)

Who: Quatre, Edgeworth
What: A virus strikes! Quatre and Edgeworth are forced to stay within proximity of each other, lest they become terribly ill.
Where: The Maganac's village and base of operations.
When: Some random point in time.
Warnings: None!

The sun peaked through the curtains of the window, slowly bathing the small bedroom in light. It was a quiet morning; the only sounds that could be heard were those of men and women setting up shops at the market down the hill, and those were only faint echos at best.

It was a day to sleep in--not that Quatre normally did. There was something about this place, though, something peaceful and safe. Everyone knew who he was, just as they did nearly everywhere he went these days, but the Maganac Corps were like family, and so was everyone in the village by proxy. He could forget about politics and disarmament, at least for a moment, which was why--when a sliver of sunlight positioned itself directly over his face--the young man simply winced and rolled over with nothing more than a groan.

He could afford a moment more.

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[Quatre watches him only a moment longer, before he turns and slams the emergency stop on the elevator. The carriage grinds to a halt, and Quatre turns a deep frown on the prosecutor.]

We don't have to go up there, if you'd rather not...

[Something gave him away despite his best efforts. But what? Not his expressions. Body language? His distraction? Not his pounding heartbeat, obviously. Relief washed through him the moment the elevator stopped, but it's quickly replaced by shame then a fresh wave of fear. Cringing from this ride is not an option.]

[Crossing his arms, he glares fiercely at Winner as if daring him to question this incident more openly.] I thought I made myself clear. I have obligations to take care of.

But you're afraid. [He brings a hand to his chest, resting it over his heart.] Of what I don't know, but I can feel it.

You-- [He cuts himself off. One hand presses hard against his own chest in unconscious mimicry of Winner's gesture, or perhaps to ward it off.]

[Is he speaking literally?]

[Edgeworth's eyes flash with anger. He snaps] I'm not afraid of anything. And if I was, that would still be no reason to forsake my responsibilities.

I can respect that. But Mr. Edgeworth, I really can feel it.

[In this moment, he realizes the subject must not have come up with his predecessor, and he wonders if it was a mistake to mention it now, but that thought is short-lived. After all, it's not something that he's ever been ashamed of or secretive about; there's really no reason to start hiding it now, when doing so could so easily make it worse in the long run.]

Please don't think I'm trying to pry. I wouldn't have said anything at all, but it was too strong to ignore...

[In the same moment, Edgeworth's realizing that the Quatre Winner he knew before--the one who put him through the painful experience of a zero sum challenge and let him believe all the while that they were on an even playing field--was most likely able to read his emotions as well. Anger flared again in his chest.]

[grinds out] Mr. Winner, you've just demonstrated a marked difference from your predecessor. He wasn't so forthcoming about this ability, though I would argue that he had an obligation to mention it to me.

[The more he hears about this predecessor, the more he wonders if they're really the same person at all, but a stab of guilt quickly stops that arrogant train of thought; he's no angel himself, not by a long shot.

He looks away.]

...I'm sorry. I don't know what went on then, but I do make it a point to let others know when it comes up. [he brings his gaze back to Edgeworth, pushing aside his personal troubles] The fact remains that I can feel it, though. If you want me to ignore it, I'll honor that with no questions, but the last thing I want is for you to put yourself under unnecessary stress. I can contact someone for you, if you'd like, or find a world-hopper to bring some of your things...

[Some of his ire fades in the face of the boy's apparent contrition. He isn't quite ready to fully trust his sincerity. The other Winner had seemed sincere in most things as well, but this frank, unprompted confession was more than the other ever gave him.]

[After studying the boy for a long moment he looks up at the towering Gundam then back to Winner. With more politeness than he's shown the entire time he's been there, he says] I appreciate your concern for my well-being, but I assure you I am fine. It's only... [falters, cheeks burning slightly as he struggles with his own confession] ...an old phobia, uncomfortable but ultimately harmless.

[Quatre watches him for a moment; he meant it when he said he wouldn't ask questions, though it doesn't stop his curiosity, especially when the reaction was so great. However,Edgeworth isn't the first person he's met with a strong phobia, and so, after a moment, he respectfully nods.]

Let me know if that changes.

[Without further ado, he presses the call button on the elevator again.]

[True to his word, Winner lets the incident pass without question. Edgeworth gives him a nod, relieved but also a bit concerned. Now he has to worry not just about keeping himself composed on the outside but on the inside as well. He struggles to quell his gratitude to the boy as well as the fear that's creeping back up on him as the elevator slowly descends.]

[Quatre remains silent, keeping his gaze away from Edgeworth out of courtesy. Instead, he watches the elevator as it comes to a stop before them and opens with the sound of grinding metal. Quatre boards, waiting for the man to do the same.]

[Edgeworth follows with no hesitation this time, determined to minimize the embarrassment of this whole incident as much as he possibly can. He turns to face forward, intending to spend the duration of the elevator ride focused on the incredible hangar laid out before them--all the activity, people moving between the machines like studious ants at work. Some of the fear still grips his chest and holds his tongue, but he's moderately successful at keeping it off his face.]

[Quatre glances at Edgeworth to see him looking out at the hangar. Stepping forward for a better look himself, he uses the opportunity to break the silence and to--hopefully--help put the past few minutes behind them.]

It used to be much busier than this.

[He starts a bit at the movement but recovers quickly, glances at the boy.] There's not much need for activity on a military base in peace time.

[He smiles, although there's a hint of sadness Edgeworth may or may not pick up on. Not everyone is happy with the prospect of peace, as certain recent events have shown Quatre.

Still, it's nothing like it was before.]

I'm thankful for that.

[Edgeworth is too caught up in controlling his own feelings to notice that the boy's response isn't quite as joyful as one might expect. He keeps his eyes fixed on the workers.] What comes next for you?

[keeps his eyes there, as well] Well... Right now, we're working with the ESUN--ah, that is, the Earth Sphere Unified Nation--to tear down mobile suit factories throughout Earth and space. It's... going to be an ongoing process, for a while.

[distractedly] Ah... And the suits themselves?

Destroyed. Or re-purposed, in some cases.

[The elevator shudders to a stop, and the doors open to the platform. From here, they're able to see Sandrock waist-high, leaving about twenty more feet towering above them. The platform covers the perimeter of the hangar and branches off at either side of each mobile suit; the sides are then connected by an open catwalk about five feet in front of the mobile suits, though it's placed noticeably further away from the Gundam.]

[The shuddering sends a jolt through Edgeworth's chest. It's all he can do to resist stumbling out of the elevator the moment the doors open, and he can't stop the wave of relief that washes over him as his feet touch the platform. He stands there for a moment, breathing heavily. Looking out on the hangar is no longer an effective distraction--he's not at all comfortable with heights either--so he turns his gaze on the massive robot instead.]

[It's truly a remarkable technological achievement. Even without seeing it in action that much is clear. The advances that would be necessary to make a robot in human form move, let alone move quickly and adroitly enough to fight, were impressive enough, but on such a scale...]

Yours is among those slated for destruction?

[Edgeworth's anxiety is, of course, palpable, but Quatre remains true to his word and says nothing; he now has an inkling that it's related to heights, however.

As he heads towards the catwalk, a red panel on Sandrock's abdomen opens like a draw bridge, stopping precisely in front of the catwalk. A metal door then opens to reveal the cockpit inside, likely just as cramped as Edgeworth was imagining.

Quatre slows to a stop before he reaches the panel, looking up at the expressionless face of his mobile suit like one would look at an old friend before a long goodbye.]

I don't know, yet. I've been in discussion with the other Gundam pilots, but we haven't come to a final decision.

[Edgeworth's stomach sinks when he catches a look inside the cockpit. He makes no move towards it yet, focusing instead on the odd moment that seems to pass between the boy and his Gundam. There's an obvious attachment there. He should have expected as much, but still, it's difficult for him to reconcile with the loathsome taint that all weapons hold for him.]

Hm. What options exist for repurposing...something like this?

[He turns back to Edgeworth.]

For something like the Gundams in particular? [a small, somewhat wry smile] Not many. They were, after all, created for a very specific purpose.

[That stirred something that had been lurking in the back of his mind since they entered the hangar. He remembered then what Winner's predecessor had claimed was the Gundams' original purpose: indiscriminate slaughter. He stared up at the robot's expressionless face, feeling as though his guts were suddenly doused in ice water.]

Your predecessor indicated they were already re-purposed, in a sense. Strategic military use, while not necessarily desirable, is still a far cry from outright genocide.

[The response catches Quatre off guard. While the Gundams' original purpose isn't a secret among many of the circles he travels in, it isn't common knowledge to most people. That Edgeworth knows is another, surreal reminder that there are people who have interacted with another version of him, who may know certain things about him and his world.

There's no reason to keep secrets anymore, but it is something he's going to have to get used to.]

Yes... Well... [He looks to Sandrock again, then hops from the catwalk onto the platform leading to the cockpit.] They were built for destruction. In that sense, nothing changed. They're still a symbol of war.