FIC - 'Tears as Fast as Trees'
Title: Tears as Fast as Trees
By: yubberducky and neko_myka
Pairing: Phoenix/Miles
Warnings: character death, angst
Prompt: Phoenix/Edgeworth. One dies in the arms of the other from accident/victim of crime/suicide.
---
Miles awoke, skull pounding, to rain coming in through his windshield. For a moment there was confusion; he was still strapped to his seat, but his suit was soaked, his lap strewn with shards of broken glass- and how on earth had he gotten there? He closed his eyes and thought back to where he'd been that evening - he remembered fussing over his hair in the mirror, thinking all the while how silly he was for putting this much effort into Wright, of all people. He remembered dinner at a classy restaurant - Wright poking his calamari with a fork, claiming it would come to life and start wriggling at any moment, he just knew it. And then the opera. Watching Carmen in a private box, painfully aware of Wright's thigh pressed warm against his own.
He blinked as his surroundings came into focus. He couldn't see much beyond the hood of his car, frozen as it was in the midst of devouring a tree. And everything was flooding back suddenly - how he'd missed a curve on the road, how they'd broken through the barrier and gone rolling down the hill at top speed, and then --
A small moan brought him jolting out of his thoughts. He jerked his head to the side and found Wright slumped back against his seat, head lolling, eyes staring glassy and pained at Miles.
There was a tree branch jutting out of his diaphragm.
"Wright," he gasped.
He fumbled with his seatbelt, nearly strangling himself as he scrambled out of his seat. His hands hovered over Wright's wound and, oh God, the blood. It was staining his white dress shirt, dribbling from the corner of his mouth.
"Can you speak?" he asked stupidly.
Wright opened his mouth, but all that came out was a shuddering something that might have been a gasp.
"Okay. Okay." Miles ran a shaking hand through his hair and looked around for his cell phone. He found it lying under the brake pedal, where it had probably skittered during the crash. "I'm calling an ambulance. Wright -" He halted, thought of the thousands of maudlin things he could say - confessions of love, assurances that everything would be okay, perhaps a goodbye - and said only, "Stay with me."
He flipped open the phone to discover that the screen remained black.
He punched in the emergency number anyway and brought the phone to his ear. There was silence. Probably ruined when the rain had come in through the broken windshield, but that thought did absolutely nothing to console him. He let the phone drop from his hand. It clattered away somewhere under his seat.
The severity of the situation was not lost on him. The road above was deserted and he had no means of summoning help, and doubtless Wright was having trouble breathing. Doubtless his lungs were crushed. Soon he would grow faint with blood loss. And then... and then...
"Wright," he said frantically, leaning over the injured man. "Did you bring your phone?"
Wright shook his head slowly, oh so slowly, as if it hurt him to do it.
Miles considered leaving to get help. The nearest phone was probably within walking distance - but that would involve leaving Wright alone in the cold with a tree branch stuck in him.
But if he didn't go, Wright would -
"What should I do?" he whispered, touching his palm to Wright's cheek. It was completely out of character for him - he'd never even been capable of bringing himself to admit his feelings, for crying out loud - but he supposed these weren't normal circumstances. There was no time to think, no time to fear.
Wright made a noise low in his throat that offered no answer to Edgeworth's question. Miles knew the smartest thing to do was to go and get help, but he just couldn't move. He knew that if he left he would regret it for the rest of his life. Phoenix made another noise, and Miles took his hand. “Don't talk,” he said very softly. “You are not here. We are at your place, sitting in front of the television watching a movie. Your head is on my lap and I'm running my fingers through your hair. Everything is perfect, and quiet, and nothing hurts.”
Phoenix smiled softly, his eyes never leaving Edgeworth's, as tears rolled down his cheeks. His lips opened, and Miles pressed a finger against them, wiping the tears away. “I know,” he said. “I know.” Again. “Me too.” He kissed Phoenix's lips. “So much.” He wiped the rest of Phoenix's tears away from his face. “I'm here. You can close your eyes.”
Phoenix blinked once, and opened his mouth before Edgeworth could stop him, his voice raspy and weak, but clear. “I'll wait for you,” he said, and before Miles could register the words Phoenix's eyes closed, and his head fell forward.
A scream spilled from Edgeworth's lips unbidden; and, God, how it hurt. Everything hurt. He realized that he didn't care to get help for himself, that it felt like it didn't matter. The rational part of his brain told him that this feeling would pass, that staying here was worse; so Miles forced himself out of the car and into night, stumbling for a couple of feet until his legs gave out beneath him, sending him to the ground.
Something wasn't right.
He hadn't realized it before. With all the worry, and panic, and Phoenix, he hadn't even noticed his own blood soaked shirt. Edgeworth didn't know if to laugh or to cry. Maybe if he yelled loud enough someone might hear him. Maybe he just didn't care. The ground was cold and wet underneath him. It was harder to breathe now; his eyes couldn't focus.
And even as he lay on the ground, cold and bleeding to death, he wasn't alone. Soft fingers seemed to press against his temple, even if in reality there was nobody there. Edgeworth smiled, feeling suddenly calm. And as his breathing slowed little by little, a familiar voice whispered in his ear.
“You are not here. You are in your home sitting comfortably in front of a warm fire. Everything is perfect. Nothing hurts. You can close your eyes now, and when you open them, I'll be there with you.”
By: yubberducky and neko_myka
Pairing: Phoenix/Miles
Warnings: character death, angst
Prompt: Phoenix/Edgeworth. One dies in the arms of the other from accident/victim of crime/suicide.
---
Miles awoke, skull pounding, to rain coming in through his windshield. For a moment there was confusion; he was still strapped to his seat, but his suit was soaked, his lap strewn with shards of broken glass- and how on earth had he gotten there? He closed his eyes and thought back to where he'd been that evening - he remembered fussing over his hair in the mirror, thinking all the while how silly he was for putting this much effort into Wright, of all people. He remembered dinner at a classy restaurant - Wright poking his calamari with a fork, claiming it would come to life and start wriggling at any moment, he just knew it. And then the opera. Watching Carmen in a private box, painfully aware of Wright's thigh pressed warm against his own.
He blinked as his surroundings came into focus. He couldn't see much beyond the hood of his car, frozen as it was in the midst of devouring a tree. And everything was flooding back suddenly - how he'd missed a curve on the road, how they'd broken through the barrier and gone rolling down the hill at top speed, and then --
A small moan brought him jolting out of his thoughts. He jerked his head to the side and found Wright slumped back against his seat, head lolling, eyes staring glassy and pained at Miles.
There was a tree branch jutting out of his diaphragm.
"Wright," he gasped.
He fumbled with his seatbelt, nearly strangling himself as he scrambled out of his seat. His hands hovered over Wright's wound and, oh God, the blood. It was staining his white dress shirt, dribbling from the corner of his mouth.
"Can you speak?" he asked stupidly.
Wright opened his mouth, but all that came out was a shuddering something that might have been a gasp.
"Okay. Okay." Miles ran a shaking hand through his hair and looked around for his cell phone. He found it lying under the brake pedal, where it had probably skittered during the crash. "I'm calling an ambulance. Wright -" He halted, thought of the thousands of maudlin things he could say - confessions of love, assurances that everything would be okay, perhaps a goodbye - and said only, "Stay with me."
He flipped open the phone to discover that the screen remained black.
He punched in the emergency number anyway and brought the phone to his ear. There was silence. Probably ruined when the rain had come in through the broken windshield, but that thought did absolutely nothing to console him. He let the phone drop from his hand. It clattered away somewhere under his seat.
The severity of the situation was not lost on him. The road above was deserted and he had no means of summoning help, and doubtless Wright was having trouble breathing. Doubtless his lungs were crushed. Soon he would grow faint with blood loss. And then... and then...
"Wright," he said frantically, leaning over the injured man. "Did you bring your phone?"
Wright shook his head slowly, oh so slowly, as if it hurt him to do it.
Miles considered leaving to get help. The nearest phone was probably within walking distance - but that would involve leaving Wright alone in the cold with a tree branch stuck in him.
But if he didn't go, Wright would -
"What should I do?" he whispered, touching his palm to Wright's cheek. It was completely out of character for him - he'd never even been capable of bringing himself to admit his feelings, for crying out loud - but he supposed these weren't normal circumstances. There was no time to think, no time to fear.
Wright made a noise low in his throat that offered no answer to Edgeworth's question. Miles knew the smartest thing to do was to go and get help, but he just couldn't move. He knew that if he left he would regret it for the rest of his life. Phoenix made another noise, and Miles took his hand. “Don't talk,” he said very softly. “You are not here. We are at your place, sitting in front of the television watching a movie. Your head is on my lap and I'm running my fingers through your hair. Everything is perfect, and quiet, and nothing hurts.”
Phoenix smiled softly, his eyes never leaving Edgeworth's, as tears rolled down his cheeks. His lips opened, and Miles pressed a finger against them, wiping the tears away. “I know,” he said. “I know.” Again. “Me too.” He kissed Phoenix's lips. “So much.” He wiped the rest of Phoenix's tears away from his face. “I'm here. You can close your eyes.”
Phoenix blinked once, and opened his mouth before Edgeworth could stop him, his voice raspy and weak, but clear. “I'll wait for you,” he said, and before Miles could register the words Phoenix's eyes closed, and his head fell forward.
A scream spilled from Edgeworth's lips unbidden; and, God, how it hurt. Everything hurt. He realized that he didn't care to get help for himself, that it felt like it didn't matter. The rational part of his brain told him that this feeling would pass, that staying here was worse; so Miles forced himself out of the car and into night, stumbling for a couple of feet until his legs gave out beneath him, sending him to the ground.
Something wasn't right.
He hadn't realized it before. With all the worry, and panic, and Phoenix, he hadn't even noticed his own blood soaked shirt. Edgeworth didn't know if to laugh or to cry. Maybe if he yelled loud enough someone might hear him. Maybe he just didn't care. The ground was cold and wet underneath him. It was harder to breathe now; his eyes couldn't focus.
And even as he lay on the ground, cold and bleeding to death, he wasn't alone. Soft fingers seemed to press against his temple, even if in reality there was nobody there. Edgeworth smiled, feeling suddenly calm. And as his breathing slowed little by little, a familiar voice whispered in his ear.
“You are not here. You are in your home sitting comfortably in front of a warm fire. Everything is perfect. Nothing hurts. You can close your eyes now, and when you open them, I'll be there with you.”