[RL 8: Zero-Sum - Quatre, Edgeworth][Futuredated]

[samuraiprosecutor]

((OOC: Starting this early. Futuredating to 12-20-07. Event planned in this entry.))

He set the silver-grey teapot on the stove, turned the fire up, and went back into the living room. It was spotless, as usual; he'd had the maid service over just that morning...one of several preparations he'd made in anticipation of the visit.

He'd planned what he wanted to ask, though he knew the subjects would most likely lead to others and was ready for a difficult interrogation. The morning had been spent on the mental exercises he practiced before every trial, honing his thoughts. He and Sigi had returned from a walk not long ago, so there shouldn't be any interruptions of that nature.

The pot now whistling on the stove had been the final preparation; he realized he must have been standing in the doorway and staring at the living room for several minutes, and chastised himself for the lapse. This battle was going to be difficult enough, he couldn't afford such a distracted state of mind. He returned to the kitchen to finish the tea, listening carefully for a knocking at the door.

Comments

[ttly-an-arab.livejournal.com]

Quatre shifted his weight from his left foot to the right. For the past three minutes, he had been staring at the apartment door of 3F, of Miles Edgeworth. He knew; he had counted the seconds, having anticipated his own anxiety. It was a ritual really; whenever he wanted to run from something, he would count the seconds of his hesitation before calling himself anything resembling foolish or a coward.

Two hundred thirty-eight... Two hundred thirty-nine... Two hundred forty, four minutes.

He wanted to be there, and he didn't. He liked Edgeworth, respected him a great deal, wanted to know more about him, and excitement bubbled in his stomach to finally see the man in person. But fear hastily stomped on his excitement. There was no desire to lose his respect or to delve secrets to a man who was, admittedly, a stranger in many respects, and there was no doubt that the questions to be asked would force him to face things he had been running from. He wasn't prepared for either, didn't want to be prepared.

Two hundred ninety-eight... Two hundred ninety-nine. Three hundred, five minutes.

Was he still upset about the ordeal over Wufei? He had excepted a comment from Edgeworth on his most recent post in the community, but it still made him worried when there was nothing from him. What if he was? Everything would be tense, unpleasant, harder than it already was. He had wanted to apologize--still wanted to.

Three hundred fifty-eight... Three hundred fifty--this is silly, he told himself. Even so, it didn't stop his fist from hesitating and unclenching when he raised it. Shaking his head and clenching it again, Quatre knocked firmly on the door.

[samuraiprosecutor]

The knock came just as Edgeworth was setting the top on the teapot; the sound startled him, stirring an unpleasant clenching sensation in his chest, and he dropped the top too quickly. He sucked in a breath as he picked it up again, releasing it only when he saw the porcelain hadn't cracked or chipped on the infuser's small chain. Frowning at his own carelessness, he left the tea steeping and walked to the foyer.

Sigi was already at the door, sitting just out of its path and staring intently at the knob. "Sigi, bleib," Edgeworth ordered as his hand settled on the knob, but the dog showed no signs of tension or wariness. With a deep breath (which was intended to calm but somehow only served to heighten his unease) Edgeworth opened the door.

The boy standing in the hall was slim and fair, his fine features half-hidden behind long golden bangs. Edgeworth searched his face for a moment, looking for hints of nervousness, anger, any indications of what to expect, but Quatre was totally unreadable. If he was hiding anything, he was hiding it well, and Edgeworth gave a mental nod in appreciation. It certainly wouldn't make things any easier...but then, Miles was hardly a slouch at keeping up a facade.

Finally stepping aside, Edgeworth gestured toward the foyer with a sweep of his hand. "Welcome, Quatre Winner. Do come in."

[ttly-an-arab.livejournal.com]

Quatre's stomach had clenched painfully in jittery nerves when the door had open, and it clenched more in the face of Miles Edgeworth. Here, every move would be scrutinized with a critical, judgmental eye. His life, being in the eye of the public and center of politics, accustomed him to such a thing, but it didn't ebb the want of Edgeworth's continued respect.

Though despite it, he forced away a swallow of unease and the clench in his stomach. He wasn't the only one uneasy, and Quatre felt it wouldn't help him or Edgeworth to be tense. They were friendly online, and even though their reason for meeting wasn't pleasant in many respects, he saw no reason to not be now. Smiling, he stepped inside. "Thank you, Mr. Edgeworth."

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Sieghard but quickly took in the magenta-decorated living room. He was, to the say least, quite thankful he visited Relena often; Edgeworth, like her, seemed to take his favorite color everywhere. Not lingering on giving great emphasis to where everything was, he turned back to his friend and was unsurprised to find the older man was taller. Five centimeters, perhaps give a couple more.

Quatre smiled again. "I wasn't excepting Sieghard to be greeting me as well."

[samuraiprosecutor]

Miles glanced at Sigi, whose tail was actually wagging slightly on the carpet. It surprised him; Sigi was quite friendly, even sociable at the dog park, but had always been standoffish to people entering the apartment. Edgeworth had assumed it was due to the breed's natural territoriality.

"He likes to know who's entering his home." Edgeworth petted Sigi, grounding his thoughts with the feel of the dog's slightly coarse fur under his fingers. Sigi's wagging increased in speed, and when Miles pulled his hand back Sigi extended his nose toward Quatre, sniffing curiously. "He seems to approve."

[ttly-an-arab.livejournal.com]

Still smiling, Quatre bent slightly and extended his hand to the dog. He noted the lavish collar and tried not to smile wider; Edgeworth doted upon his dog with clearly expensive items. Of course. He was quite proud of Sieghard it seemed, and because Quatre had never thought of it, he supposed the word he was looking for wasn't 'surprising' or 'unsurprising' but something to the affect of what his sisters would say: 'cute.'

When Sieghard's tail wagging increased, the blond knelt down to his level and ran a hand through his fur. "He's a beautiful dog."

[samuraiprosecutor]

One corner of Edgeworth's mouth twitched at the compliment, briefly enough to be almost unnoticeable. He turned his head toward the kitchen, facing away from Quatre. "Thank you. I've always thought so. The judges think so as well."

Edgeworth gestured to the living room, his expression carefully neutral once again. "If you'd like to take a seat, I can bring in the tea."

((OOC: The tea's gonna be darjeeling, btw.))

[ttly-an-arab.livejournal.com]

A barely audible "ah" escaped Quatre. To the living room, where zero-sum would begin. He could smile as much he liked and force it away but only in vain; unease still spread through him like wildfire. Though stubborn as always and having left all cowardliness in the hallway, he refused to let in show and reminded himself he had chosen this.

Nodding, he ran his hand through Sieghard's fur one last time, savoring the calm before the storm. He then stood, hoping his deep breaths were not completely noticeable and walked into the gestured room.

[ttly-an-arab.livejournal.com]

Despite the chord it struck, Quatre did not waver. Civilians had only once been his intended target, but there was always secondary targets, collateral damage. He couldn't deny that, and he felt offended that it seemed as though he was trying to.

"Unfortunately, yes," he replied. Feeling vulnerable and foolish for having done it purposely, Quatre ended any more conversation involving himself there. For now, at least. "I want to know about Phoenix."

[samuraiprosecutor]

Edgeworth realized immediately he'd focused too much on the offensive. His defense hadn't been dropped, per se, but the turn managed to catch him off guard. He covered with a smirk and another sip of tea. "Wright is a man with potential as a defense attorney and more than his fair share of luck, both good and bad."

The teacup was replaced on the ottoman as he said it, and when he finished he leaned back into the couch cushions. 'Maybe a little more specificity is needed in your interrogation...'

[ttly-an-arab.livejournal.com]

Quatre sipped his tea, smiling inwardly. He was rather pleased that he had surprised the older man, and he was rather unsurprised by his answer. Naturally, Edgeworth would not easily give himself away as he had.

Not skipping a beat, he smiled. "Clever," he replied. "Your relationship with him."

[samuraiprosecutor]

The smirk didn't falter as Edgeworth replied, "...Is the strongest professional relationship I have. More than any other, I trust him to stand across from me in court."

He shook his head, slowly. "Though he does his best to make the cases difficult for me."

[ttly-an-arab.livejournal.com]

Not faltering himself, the blond continued to smile and sipped his tea. Such a response had been anticipated, and Quatre had already anticipated it would have been easy to cut to the point.

"Such a strong relationship clearly extends out of the courtroom, and it seems he is one of the closest people to you. You trust him to stand across from you, but do you truly trust him enough to let him stand behind you?"

[samuraiprosecutor]

Edgeworth's grip on the arm rest tightened, and he flicked his gaze toward the balcony door and the blue-grey sky outside. "If you're asking that question, I'm sure you already know the answer."

[samuraiprosecutor]

Edgeworth paused, poured himself a cup of tea knowing full well that it would likely be forgotten in a matter of minutes.

If he could finish it quickly, give the facts and remain detached from what lurked behind them...handle it like he would read a court record... Perhaps it would be easier this time, when he had prepared. (Though was he really prepared? Would he ever be?)

"I was nine when my father was murdered." His eyes slid shut as he said it, his brows furrowing, and inwardly he cursed the pain flaring up in his chest. When he opened his eyes again they remained trained on the floor. "I was adopted by a prosecutor, a legend. My mentor. He raised me, taught me everything I knew about law, courtroom manner...ethics.

"Two years ago I was accused of a murder. Von Karma was the prosecutor, Wright, the defense. Halfway through, the trial turned toward my father's murder." His chest felt constricted, his face warm. He forced himself to breathe deeply before continuing.

"I believed I'd killed my father. Wright didn't. It was the closest thing to a miracle I'd ever witnessed, but he managed to prove me innocent of both killings. My father's...von Karma was my father's murderer. He orchestrated the Hammond murder. He planned for fifteen years to put me away for-" the words died in his throat.

[ttly-an-arab.livejournal.com]

As Edgeworth spoke, shared his secret, displayed his melancholy, Quatre’s chest clenched, his heart beat painfully, his soul suffered with him. He couldn't even imagine what it had been like to be in such a situation, but he understood the sorrow, understood as well why Edgeworth was the way he was and wanted to do nothing more than to comfort him, help him.

Despite the trembles in his hand, the blond reached across the space between them, placing a hand on his and squeezing gently. An apology, barely above a whisper, passed his lips, and he cut himself off before saying anything else.

There was nothing appropriate to say, and anything he would have normally said to encourage, support, reassure was unnecessary. The path of zero-sum would decide if he continued now or later.

[samuraiprosecutor]

The warmth suddenly pressing on his skin made Edgeworth jump, his gaze flying to the hand laying gently on his. Quatre was speaking but he couldn't make out the words; they were too soft, the boy's voice barely audible, and too much of his focus was drawn by the gentle pressure on his skin.

Too quickly Edgeworth pulled back, freeing his hand. He let the silence linger for several moments, the point clear, then reached steadily for his tea, needing the grounding heat.

[ttly-an-arab.livejournal.com]

Watching Edgeworth from the corner of his eye, Quatre gave the balcony a sidelong look. The silence stretched for a few moments, and when the pain dulled to an extent, he cleared his throat. "I apologize. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

Over the course of two years, he had become accustomed to such a reaction. His friends, while sometimes thrown by it, had grown use to the culture detail, his compulsion of touching others. Except Wufei, who always drew away. He supposed Wufei was right: he should remember that not everyone enjoyed their personal space being violated.

...They were alike, Edgeworth and Wufei. Arrogant and abrasive though otherwise, reserved. Dedicated to their work, almost to a point of flaw. Most likely to keep others away, to make their lives simple, to keep control where they were afraid to lose it. They were destined to walk an endless staircase, and Quatre frowned at the thought.

He wished they were no longer in their current situation; he wanted to know more, not through the force of zero-sum but through trust and friendship. Though that, he knew, was unreasonable to ask of a person like Edgeworth, that is was a wishful thought.

[samuraiprosecutor]

Edgeworth nodded at the apology - his point had obviously been made, and he was sure there wouldn't be a repeat. Not if Quatre wanted them to continue.

Taking stock of the situation, Edgeworth was satisfied with the events thus far. Two battles, a win on either side, sacrifices made by both parties. And while his sacrifice had been great, the discussion had strayed away from Wright. If his chest still hurt, well...they weren't through yet, and interrogation of this nature was a definite distraction.

With advantages like that, pressing was his only option.

"So, now you know about my father." He let the statement hang in the air, waiting to see if his opponent would rise to the challenge.

[ttly-an-arab.livejournal.com]

His gaze stayed trained on the balcony, and when his throat constricted, he swallowed. "And what do you want to know about mine, Mr. Edgeworth?"

[ttly-an-arab.livejournal.com]

Quatre felt his resolve crumble slightly. He could be as bitter and angry as he liked, could chose to be as hardened and expressionless as he liked, but there would always be the surge of emotion, the urge to collapse and cry. He never allowed himself to, never gave himself the time to though.

Breath hitching, he looked to the balcony again and felt his throat constrict once more. The rhythmic beating of his heart became sharp and painful. "We never had the chance to."

[samuraiprosecutor]

Edgeworth's eyes slid shut for a few brief moments, the only outward indication he gave of the effect the response had. "How did it happen?"

[ttly-an-arab.livejournal.com]

"He--" Voice catching in his throat, he prayed the small, choked noise he made was not audible to Edgeworth. The pain in his heart sharpened further, and Quatre looked away from the balcony, to his lap where he clutched his empty cup. He forced his chest to rise and fall evenly, steadily and forced the tremors in his hands to fade. Moments passed as he collected himself, and stubbornly, he clung to a falsified strength and averted an imagined weakness.

When he finally spoke, his voice was soft, drawn out, and he paused in between his words when he felt his strength would leave him. "He sacrificed himself to the very people he was trying to protect.

[samuraiprosecutor]

The signs of Quatre's distress were each noted, catalogued instinctively, as he would with any other witness. He was obviously feeling it keenly; likely the pain was still fresh, the event recent. For the first time since he'd stepped into Edgeworth's apartment he truly looked his age, if not younger.

For a moment Edgeworth felt the urge to avert his eyes, as if he were intruding, but the trepidation was quickly brushed aside as he focused on the truth unfolding before him. "To what end? What purpose could that possibly serve?"

[ttly-an-arab.livejournal.com]

Quatre shut his eyes, and his head remained bowed. When he opened his eyes moments later, his gaze remained trained on the cup in his hands, and when he spoke, he still paused in between his words.

"Our political representatives wanted to give in to the enemy. The people had become convinced the Winner family was no longer interested in their well-being, and fear was beginning to rule their leaders. But--

My father refused, even when he was outnumbered and overruled... He wouldn't fight, and when he was dying, he asked me to promise not to anymore... He willingly allowed himself to be murdered for his convictions."

[samuraiprosecutor]

"A noble act, being able to die for one's convictions." A humorless smirk turned the corner of Edgeworth's lips, and he shook his head slowly. "Except, doing so usually means one's convictions die with them. Only in the best of circumstances can someone affect a lasting change in the world after they have left it."

He paused, studying Quatre's expression intently. "A lasting, far-reaching change, at least."