boxolawyers | (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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[A wave of grief hits him, so similar to be indistinguishable from his own. The need for stoicism vanishes as he opens himself to the feeling completely--reopens wounds that had only started to heal. He takes a step forward but goes no further, eyes prickling with unshed tears.]

I'm so sorry. Truly... I... [He shakes his head and drops his gaze, hand going to his heart.] It's one of the most painful experiences a person can face.

[The unshed tears are painfully obvious in the boy's voice. Guilt flares in his eyes and on his twisting features, hidden from Winner's eyes but not from his heart.] It was not my intention to force you to share in my suffering. Particularly when you have more than enough of your own. [he finds himself saying, his voice raspy and low.] But you've been more forthcoming with me than your predecessor ever was. It seems only fair that you know some of the things he did.

[His shoulders hunch, tensing a moment, before he dares to turn enough to meet his companion's gaze. His own eyes offer the proof of all the things Winner would already be able to feel: regret and unspeakable sorrow, guilt, all underpinned by the steel girders of a formidable protective streak, trained for the moment on Winner himself.] I can't claim to know what you've been through, but I understand better than most what it means to take on the burden of a legacy far too young.

[Sorrow, guilt... So painful and so familiar. And yet, as he untangles Edgeworth's emotions from his own, something unexpected emerges from beneath them: something resolute, not unlike the energy Rashid projects when he feels Quatre has been wronged. Something that feels like protection.]

[Quatre's gaze snaps up, his wet, wide eyes meeting Edgeworth's with surprise. There's no way to know for certain that he's the target, of course. All signs prior to this conversation point to highly unlikely, and yet...]

[Regardless of who the feeling is meant for, the thread of tension between them seems as if it's begun to slacken. Though he knows it's tenuous at best, he can't help but believe something momentous has occurred.]

[His tears remain unshed but apparent in his voice and his wavering smile.]

Thank you. For the sentiment and your honesty. And, please... Don't feel as if you've burdened me in any way. This is my gift. I only hope I didn't overstep my bounds.

[An unusual 'gift,' which can cause the recipient so much pain. Edgeworth frowns lightly, that protective streak flaring up briefly, bright and warm. Still, when he speaks his tone is something closer to his usual, dry tone, revealing less of the emotions continuing to bubble inside him.]

It's true I have always valued my boundaries...but I suppose I can't fault you for receiving that which I was undoubtedly projecting with considerable force.

[He hesitates a moment, his eyes flicking away, before continuing.] It is never fair when such heavy responsibilities fall on the shoulders of someone so young, but that will not stop them from falling. It is then left to us to make the choice: persevere or be crushed under their weight.

[Quatre bows in agreement, as memories of a time when he was crushed by them threaten to surface.]

[He... and anything in his vicinity.]

[Guiltily, he reaches for the flare of warmth radiating from Edgeworth, grasps it, and soaks it in, before the thrum of Zero's buster rifle or the sight of Vayeate, twisted and ruined, can take hold. Those memories will accomplish nothing here. With a quiet breath, he pushes them back to their depths and clings to the emotional olive branch unintentionally extended to him.]

[The whole thing lasts only a few moments. When he looks up again, his eyes are drier and his smile a bit steadier.]

I find perseverance much more rewarding. Don't you?

[It makes him ache, watching the struggle play out on the boy's angelic face, and the inevitable, too quick return to something resembling normalcy. People are not always allowed the luxury of time for their grief, particularly when there are already too many demands placed on that time. Yet another injustice that disproportionately affects the young. He will respect his companion's cue, though that protective streak he's not fully conscious of will linger between them, a constant, low-level thrum of warmth and care for the boy to take from if needed.]

Indeed. Though...there were times I doubted I was capable of it. [Edgeworth lowers his gaze and allows the hint of a smile to creep across his face, a private reflection of a new, familiar sensation budding in his chest. This one is powerful and uncomplicated. It blooms intensely, though his posture never changes and his smile is brief. An observer might never guess the depths of it, but for one who can read hearts, the emotion should be unmistakable--love.] Sometimes the hardest lesson to learn is how to accept support. Sometimes...it takes the right teacher.

[A warmth fills Quatre's chest, like a bud of light blooming and filling every inch of soul, leaving him breathless in the most remarkable way. There's no question that this isn't meant for him, but he closes his eyes and savors it, anyway, until the remaining sorrow and guilt recede to mere background noise.]

Yes. To accept support... or learn how to accept yourself. [His smile warms, as Rashid and Trowa come to mind. He lifts his gaze to meet Edgeworth's again.] It sounds like we both have good teachers.

[He delights briefly in the reception his words receive. It reassures him that Winner's situation is not as dire as it could be and reinforces a subconscious feeling of kinship.] Indeed. Perhaps we will have the opportunity to meet each other's teachers someday.

[The possibility that one or more of Winner's teachers may have been the very same soldiers who harassed Edgeworth in his defense briefly crosses his mind, but he finds it difficult to worry overmuch about it. If this Winner is as different from his predecessor as he seems, perhaps the same would hold true for them.]

[And if not, well, he's unlikely to spend enough time here for it to become a serious issue.]

Edited 2020-10-20 23:26 (UTC)

That would be wonderful. Although... [His smile edges on amusement.] It may happen sooner than you think.

...Ah. [He smirks, though the gesture looks a little like a grimace.] Would one of these vaunted teachers be the infamous Rashid?

Edited 2020-10-21 00:22 (UTC)

[His quiet chuckle speaks for itself. Turning to leave, he gestures Edgeworth to follow.]

Let's go, Mr. Edgeworth. We have a lot to discuss, if you're going to be my colleague.

['If you're going to be my colleague.' Edgeworth is not entirely sold on the idea yet...but the past few minutes went a long way towards convincing him.]

[With a soft, private smile and a shake of his head, he replies:] Lead the way, Mr. Winner.

Edited 2020-10-21 03:38 (UTC)

[Though rooted in tragedy, finding common ground has led to a deeper understanding, leaving the energy between them less fraught. Quatre had respected the man before, but now he feels a sense of kinship with him.]

[Tomorrow, he'll call Edgeworth a colleague, but, perhaps, one day, he'll be able to call him a friend.]

[With that, he leads them away.]