Edel AU. Yes. I did more.
Goddamn plot bunnies!
THEY MULTIPLY!
Characters: Yuffie, Edgeworth, unnamed security, Mentioned: Paul
The best there is can’t get caught.
The best there is can do whatever she likes and wont get caught.
She’s sure.
That’s why she’s here. She’s been planning planning planning and thinking and focusing and she’s made it. (Better then fucking ever. The other terrorists would be proud.) She keeps forgetting what she’s doing in this hall, and the sense of not allowed is making it harder to get through then usual. She’s got shards of metal in her hands, sharpened and vicious and she’s positive for once that she knows where they’re going and doing and she’s sure sure sure and….
(scalpels are back where they belong in the sides of her boots, in her hands, that’s where they belong, Ghost. Not in her skin. In her hands. They’re weapons and beautiful to her. Shiny like silver hair.)
The lock snaps open with a pop and she kicks the door open so hard it cracks as it hits the wall, loud noise and snapping wood. Like twigs. It makes the man across the room jump, he’s practically out of his chair in a second and she remembers making him do this so many times…he always looked so funny when she surpri-She shakes her head and closes her fists tighter around the things from Ghost’s pockets. He keeps forgetting that she’s stronger then anything.
(can’t shatter things more then once)
He’s Up and trying to talk to her like she’s not important, like someone’s coming to get him, to stop her. Who would stop her? WHO? He’s obviously seen the danger and is now trying to use his words as a shield.
Words words words! All he’s made of is WORDS and none of them make her feel happy or safe or anything less then sharp. Broken edges and hard lines and wrong, so many kinds of wrong. She can remember his voice and so many different words, types of truths and lies and she can’t separate them now that she’s looking at him.
She sees him and remembers and now that she’s here she can’t focus as words now and then hit her hard and nearly knock her down. He’s not even acknowledging she has a name when he knows her name. He KNOWS and she knows he does she knows it.
Her memory betrays her playing pretty words (You aren't and will never be a burden, and I don't regret anything I've done. You're, ah...more important. Than anything I could do or say or believe. ) alongside painful ones (Patient 24519, you need to learn your place.)
She doesn’t know when the scalpels leave her hand, only that a second later they are buried blade deep in the desk and there are tears falling to meet where they’ll leave a mark. Permanent. It’s going to be there as long as the desk is. She wishes she were as strong, as able to leave a mark. Because right now she feels transparent, translucent. Invisible.
And he’s just watching her.
Watching her and using words that sting and stab and a scream bubbles up from her chest and she can’t keep in. Words of her own follow soon after, her mouth a direct connection to every last thing he’s broken or hurt cause he’s just as guilty as she is in breaking everything. Arms swing out wide as she lets thoughts and things she’s let curl up in her and rot out.
“You left! Left! Did it on purpose. Shattered everything. D-D-Didn’t even try to do anything to f-fix it. Fix all of it. Know you! KNOW YOU and you FORGOT. Forgot EVERYTHING. And. And. And me and did it cause you COULD! Did it cause you’re scared-Scared-soscared- all the fractured things. All are bits and pieces and broke and- why did you do that! How. C-Could. you?!?! Not our fault and you left and didn’t mean to-
I didn’t-
I’m-
You-“
Her words don’t make sense and she can’t even understand what she’s saying. She can’t understand. Her words slip into the ones only she knows, talking like home and he should understand because he does.
“FORGOT-ALL OF IT. BrokeitbrokeitBROKEN! SHATTERED INTO BITS. DOLLS ALL LINED UP IN A ROW CUTTING STRINGS CAUSE YOU DON’T KNOW HOW TO MOVE THEM.”
She knows. She showed him herself how they link and the pattern and she knows he knows because he has a better memory then even her and hers is only hurting her again and again showing things that are so long gone from before he killed the part of him she knew so well, she knew him. (It’s okay to cry sometimes and she thinks about how it’s not a weak thing to cry. Whoever told him that was stupid, so stupid. It’s not something she likes to do, but there are times for it, good times for it. And there’s nothing wrong with that. She clings on tighter glad for him to be alive.) and he’s hidden everything that’s him and hiding behind things that he used to hate and her mouth is moving without sound as she tries to find the words to tell him how badly things are broken.
Her words are useless, she clamps her hands over her mouth, closing them in so she can’t lose them and leave them to fall out of her like letting go dragonflies and he isn’t speaking, he’s watching her again, there’s something off and old in the way he’s looking at her.
When he starts to speak again the words are a little less harsh, sound off, wrong, like he can’t get them out again and she remembers and recognizes and it hurts hurts HURTS and she wants him to shut up now cause at least before it wasn’t him it wasn’t and it wasn’t real.
“S-ST-STOP YOU’RE ST-T-TUTTERING AND SKIPPING. YOU’RE A BAD RECORD! STOP IT STOP IT! IF YOU’RE GOING TO PRETEND THEN DON’T START TO-STOP T-T-TALKING LIKE YOU. STOP IT. NO, NOT, STOP IT STOP IT STOP IT!”
Hands cover her ears instead, fighting to keep these words out cause they hurt in such a different way that she can’t focus. It’s blinding, blinding, painful, harsh, and it’s breaking her into bits and pieces.
Memory is painful. Now is worse cause it’s like looking at a memory that got thrown and colored wrong and cut around the edges to make a shape that doesn’t fit. She’s covering her ears and nails claw into the back of her neck, cutting crescents in her skin, painful as the words.
He’s stopped and is just watching again. She pulls her face up so she can see him, see how he’s fractured in his own way. It’s wrong and awful and he’s even more broken then she is cause at least she still knows she’s her and hasn’t killed herself again and again till there is nothing left.
Hands slide down her neck, getting caught in her hair until they tangle and stay. She’s watching him now, and it’s obvious he doesn’t like it. She can tell. It doesn’t take knowing him to tell.
And she does. Even now she does. He can’t hide in himself enough to keep her from finding him. Edgey is an awful liar even when he’s hidden himself so deep he’s practically good as dead and buried and alone. Always was terrible at lying. Too sure of the truth all the time to be any good at it.
She’s standing again, her feet aren’t able to keep up with themselves drawing with her toes as she walks. He’s backing up, he knows her too, even as much as he denies it, he knows her too and knows when she’s up to things. He knows.
She’s in his space like she always was. He has a shield around him, a bubble of words and thoughts, they are meant to keep people out, a fence. It’s so very real and she tears through it to reach up, her fingers like spiders, curling and uncurling, twisting in the space between them. She’s very sure that she can find him…if she looked hard enough. (But she also knows that people can’t follow paths they don’t want to. And her path and his are the same but wind in different directions.) Broken mirrors of each other.
She raises up on her toes and her fingertips brush skin…. And it surprises her when hand doesn’t freeze with as still as he’s being. Her words are her own, the characters, not the letters, and they echo because she isn’t the only one in the world who understands them.
“If it doen’t want to be found….it has to find a better hiding place.”
She hasn’t found him, and she knows it. He’s more shattered then she is and it would take long searching for pieces hiding in places that are tattered and weathered. And she can’t follow her path onto his. There are places even she can’t go. But they are there. Which means they exist.
So even if she can’t-
She feels the hands on her arms, pulling her away and down and she can see him slide back to where he’d been hiding. But it’s just that. And now they both know it.
She starts to laugh, giggling over the top of the talk of what to do, what to do, what do you do with the shattered girl………and even as he condemns her to Ghost or whoever takes her name from the list, she laughs.
The heels of her boots are dragged along the floor as they pull her by the arms, she grins over her shoulder, smile wide and cracking and calls out behind her,
“Got to find a hiding place without mirrors!”
And as she’s pulled away….She’s the only one who can see the cracks.
THEY MULTIPLY!
Characters: Yuffie, Edgeworth, unnamed security, Mentioned: Paul
The best there is can’t get caught.
The best there is can do whatever she likes and wont get caught.
She’s sure.
That’s why she’s here. She’s been planning planning planning and thinking and focusing and she’s made it. (Better then fucking ever. The other terrorists would be proud.) She keeps forgetting what she’s doing in this hall, and the sense of not allowed is making it harder to get through then usual. She’s got shards of metal in her hands, sharpened and vicious and she’s positive for once that she knows where they’re going and doing and she’s sure sure sure and….
(scalpels are back where they belong in the sides of her boots, in her hands, that’s where they belong, Ghost. Not in her skin. In her hands. They’re weapons and beautiful to her. Shiny like silver hair.)
The lock snaps open with a pop and she kicks the door open so hard it cracks as it hits the wall, loud noise and snapping wood. Like twigs. It makes the man across the room jump, he’s practically out of his chair in a second and she remembers making him do this so many times…he always looked so funny when she surpri-She shakes her head and closes her fists tighter around the things from Ghost’s pockets. He keeps forgetting that she’s stronger then anything.
(can’t shatter things more then once)
He’s Up and trying to talk to her like she’s not important, like someone’s coming to get him, to stop her. Who would stop her? WHO? He’s obviously seen the danger and is now trying to use his words as a shield.
Words words words! All he’s made of is WORDS and none of them make her feel happy or safe or anything less then sharp. Broken edges and hard lines and wrong, so many kinds of wrong. She can remember his voice and so many different words, types of truths and lies and she can’t separate them now that she’s looking at him.
She sees him and remembers and now that she’s here she can’t focus as words now and then hit her hard and nearly knock her down. He’s not even acknowledging she has a name when he knows her name. He KNOWS and she knows he does she knows it.
Her memory betrays her playing pretty words (You aren't and will never be a burden, and I don't regret anything I've done. You're, ah...more important. Than anything I could do or say or believe. ) alongside painful ones (Patient 24519, you need to learn your place.)
She doesn’t know when the scalpels leave her hand, only that a second later they are buried blade deep in the desk and there are tears falling to meet where they’ll leave a mark. Permanent. It’s going to be there as long as the desk is. She wishes she were as strong, as able to leave a mark. Because right now she feels transparent, translucent. Invisible.
And he’s just watching her.
Watching her and using words that sting and stab and a scream bubbles up from her chest and she can’t keep in. Words of her own follow soon after, her mouth a direct connection to every last thing he’s broken or hurt cause he’s just as guilty as she is in breaking everything. Arms swing out wide as she lets thoughts and things she’s let curl up in her and rot out.
“You left! Left! Did it on purpose. Shattered everything. D-D-Didn’t even try to do anything to f-fix it. Fix all of it. Know you! KNOW YOU and you FORGOT. Forgot EVERYTHING. And. And. And me and did it cause you COULD! Did it cause you’re scared-Scared-soscared- all the fractured things. All are bits and pieces and broke and- why did you do that! How. C-Could. you?!?! Not our fault and you left and didn’t mean to-
I didn’t-
I’m-
You-“
Her words don’t make sense and she can’t even understand what she’s saying. She can’t understand. Her words slip into the ones only she knows, talking like home and he should understand because he does.
“FORGOT-ALL OF IT. BrokeitbrokeitBROKEN! SHATTERED INTO BITS. DOLLS ALL LINED UP IN A ROW CUTTING STRINGS CAUSE YOU DON’T KNOW HOW TO MOVE THEM.”
She knows. She showed him herself how they link and the pattern and she knows he knows because he has a better memory then even her and hers is only hurting her again and again showing things that are so long gone from before he killed the part of him she knew so well, she knew him. (It’s okay to cry sometimes and she thinks about how it’s not a weak thing to cry. Whoever told him that was stupid, so stupid. It’s not something she likes to do, but there are times for it, good times for it. And there’s nothing wrong with that. She clings on tighter glad for him to be alive.) and he’s hidden everything that’s him and hiding behind things that he used to hate and her mouth is moving without sound as she tries to find the words to tell him how badly things are broken.
Her words are useless, she clamps her hands over her mouth, closing them in so she can’t lose them and leave them to fall out of her like letting go dragonflies and he isn’t speaking, he’s watching her again, there’s something off and old in the way he’s looking at her.
When he starts to speak again the words are a little less harsh, sound off, wrong, like he can’t get them out again and she remembers and recognizes and it hurts hurts HURTS and she wants him to shut up now cause at least before it wasn’t him it wasn’t and it wasn’t real.
“S-ST-STOP YOU’RE ST-T-TUTTERING AND SKIPPING. YOU’RE A BAD RECORD! STOP IT STOP IT! IF YOU’RE GOING TO PRETEND THEN DON’T START TO-STOP T-T-TALKING LIKE YOU. STOP IT. NO, NOT, STOP IT STOP IT STOP IT!”
Hands cover her ears instead, fighting to keep these words out cause they hurt in such a different way that she can’t focus. It’s blinding, blinding, painful, harsh, and it’s breaking her into bits and pieces.
Memory is painful. Now is worse cause it’s like looking at a memory that got thrown and colored wrong and cut around the edges to make a shape that doesn’t fit. She’s covering her ears and nails claw into the back of her neck, cutting crescents in her skin, painful as the words.
He’s stopped and is just watching again. She pulls her face up so she can see him, see how he’s fractured in his own way. It’s wrong and awful and he’s even more broken then she is cause at least she still knows she’s her and hasn’t killed herself again and again till there is nothing left.
Hands slide down her neck, getting caught in her hair until they tangle and stay. She’s watching him now, and it’s obvious he doesn’t like it. She can tell. It doesn’t take knowing him to tell.
And she does. Even now she does. He can’t hide in himself enough to keep her from finding him. Edgey is an awful liar even when he’s hidden himself so deep he’s practically good as dead and buried and alone. Always was terrible at lying. Too sure of the truth all the time to be any good at it.
She’s standing again, her feet aren’t able to keep up with themselves drawing with her toes as she walks. He’s backing up, he knows her too, even as much as he denies it, he knows her too and knows when she’s up to things. He knows.
She’s in his space like she always was. He has a shield around him, a bubble of words and thoughts, they are meant to keep people out, a fence. It’s so very real and she tears through it to reach up, her fingers like spiders, curling and uncurling, twisting in the space between them. She’s very sure that she can find him…if she looked hard enough. (But she also knows that people can’t follow paths they don’t want to. And her path and his are the same but wind in different directions.) Broken mirrors of each other.
She raises up on her toes and her fingertips brush skin…. And it surprises her when hand doesn’t freeze with as still as he’s being. Her words are her own, the characters, not the letters, and they echo because she isn’t the only one in the world who understands them.
“If it doen’t want to be found….it has to find a better hiding place.”
She hasn’t found him, and she knows it. He’s more shattered then she is and it would take long searching for pieces hiding in places that are tattered and weathered. And she can’t follow her path onto his. There are places even she can’t go. But they are there. Which means they exist.
So even if she can’t-
She feels the hands on her arms, pulling her away and down and she can see him slide back to where he’d been hiding. But it’s just that. And now they both know it.
She starts to laugh, giggling over the top of the talk of what to do, what to do, what do you do with the shattered girl………and even as he condemns her to Ghost or whoever takes her name from the list, she laughs.
The heels of her boots are dragged along the floor as they pull her by the arms, she grins over her shoulder, smile wide and cracking and calls out behind her,
“Got to find a hiding place without mirrors!”
And as she’s pulled away….She’s the only one who can see the cracks.