Nightshift 35: West Wing, North Hall 1-B

[full-score.livejournal.com]

((From here.))

As Claude continued up the hallway, he made sure to walk slowly and quietly. So far it looked like he was the only person around here, making him an easy target in an ambush or something. A small part of him realized he didn't have the same knack for spotting an incoming attack like Ashton or Dias. Still, that didn't mean he couldn't at least try, right? Maybe the limitations Landel's had placed on him made him sub-par in some people's eyes, but he would still do his best.

His flashlight passed over an entrance into another block of rooms, and the blond paused. Was this where he needed to go? There was only one way to find out.

After briefly casting a glance over his shoulder, Claude ventured into the next hallway.

((To here.))

Comments

[high-prosecutor.livejournal.com]

"May I remind you that you also claimed that the idea that there were monsters here was quite unrealistic; however, it was not, was it?"

There was a spark of defiance in Edgeworth's eyes and voice as he spoke, a bit of his confidence returning. He might have been cornered and in a dangerous situation, but on this point, he intended to stand firm.

"In fact...I had an interesting discussion regarding this some time ago. There seems to be a pattern to when patients are brought here - a turning point in their lives. A person's death can certainly be a turning point, can it not? Even without the autopsy report - which I assure you, I do possess - there is still room for the possibility. The circumstantial evidence is not so implausible as you think."

The spark faded from his eyes as those last points were raised, the fear that had been present before coming back full-force. Edgeworth turned away, and as if on cue, the voice reacted again, a long, low groan that made it almost impossible to think clearly. His head was filled with a swirl of questions - how von Karma had figured things out, how much he knew, and more importantly, how to get out of the situation.

In the end, one clear thought came through the haze: If I'm honest up-front, the bluff will be easier later. Right now, I don't have any other options, and it might at least buy me time to talk him down.

"I am sad to say that those do occur here. I'm told that they're akin to personalized torture, leaving physical and psychological damage to those that undergo them. It isn't clear what Dr. Landel's goal behind them might be."

He paused just long enough to steel his nerves and square his shoulders and jaw again, praying that the voice would stay quiet. He hoped his eyes weren't relaying the fact he was running scared underneath all of the talk.

"I'm afraid that's all the information that I have, Herr von Karma. Most people who undergo the experiments don't wish to relive such painful memories."

[lawful_perfect]

"Hmph." Though von Karma's expression remained unchanged, the boy's "reminder" angered him. He was well aware that Edgeworth had been right about the monsters, and he hated the contemptible brat for rubbing it in. In a way, this was somewhat reminiscent of that day in court fifteen years ago when the boy's father had done something similar. The resultant feelings of humiliation were all too familiar. His hands squeezed the handle of the bat momentarily, tensing up his shoulders a little.

Like father, like son, von Karma thought bitterly as he managed to ignore the twinge of pain shooting from his right shoulder. Gloat as much as you wish, Miles Edgeworth. Enjoy it during the brief time you have left, before I erase all remaining vestiges of your miserable bloodline... including the one haunting you even as you speak.

"Even were that all true, you can't honestly tell me that you, the self-proclaimed man of science who rejects supernatural nonsense and relies on decisive evidence, blindly believed in it when you first arrived here! Speaking of which, when was that, boy? You have been here longer than I, undoubtedly some time before my execution was scheduled. How, then, could you possibly possess a document that never even existed at the 'turning point' at which you were brought here?" He already knew the answer to this, though he didn't like it. Though his argument by itself was fairly weak, what solid proof could Edgeworth possibly have in hand to refute it?

Silently, he stared at the younger prosecutor, listening to everything he already knew about the experiments. The fear in the boy's eyes merely confirmed one additional piece of information: that he himself had undergone one of them, just as Javert had told von Karma.

"I see. Personalized torture? Lasting psychological and physical damage? Horrifying!" He shook his head, feigning surprise and outrage, his countenance now grave. "No wonder these research victims would rather forget the procedures done on them. We both must be very fortunate not to have undergone them yet. Hopefully, we never will, nor will anyone else once this Institute is closed down permanently." He maintained the same solemn expression as he awaited the boy's reaction.

[high-prosecutor.livejournal.com]

Edgeworth's pride wouldn't let him back down from the argument over circumstantial evidence, particularly not when it had been challenged.

"If you must know, I arrived from the end of February 2017." He smirked a bit, an instinctual response more than anything else. There was a bit of a warning from the voice, but he ignored it for the moment. "While normally an execution takes some time to be scheduled, you were quite insistent on an expedited process. That is why I possess a document which you claim does not exist. Also, as to why I believe what I do? I had decisive evidence of my own." The last line had a tone to it that indicated the discussion was over, at least from his end, and there would be no further presentations.

For a second time, the proud facade faded away, this time turning into another anxious frown as he listened to what von Karma had to say about the experiments. The bluff couldn't have worked so easily, could it? There was a second warning groan from the voice, this one harder to ignore. Just a little longer. I'll be away soon enough, he thought.

"Indeed...I wouldn't wish such a fate on my worst enemy." He puncutated the statement with a nod, and then turned away. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I've other matters to attend to before daybreak." As he spoke, he stepped to one side, slowly moving out of his cornered position.

It was hard not to tremble out of a mixture of anxiety and relief, but he managed, at least for the first step...and then, as he took the second, what little control Edgeworth had over the voice was broken.

The voice screamed in his head and sent a strong warning jolt through him, as if telling him not to turn away. The pain combined with a full day's worth of pent-up anxiety in that one moment, and his knees buckled, sending him slumping against the wall.

[lawful_perfect]

What Edgeworth said was maddeningly true. To minimize his professional shame in the public eye, von Karma had indeed demanded an expedited process, denying all of his rights to appeal the verdict and subsequent death sentence. Less than a month after the meddling rookie defense lawyer had shattered his perfect court win record, he found himself strapped to the execution table. So the boy's explanation was plausible. Still... there was one factor that didn't quite fit.

"Bah! Impossible! Had you arrived at this turning point in your life, which you claim occurred over a month after my scheduled execution, how could you have actually been here for longer than I? One of these magical time paradoxes, hmm? You 'had' decisive evidence to prove it? Hah! A bluff, just as I thought." He returned Edgeworth's smirk, though his was more smug.

"Very well. Precisely how or when we got here is unimportant right now anyway. As you said, there are far more pressing matters to take care of." The ominous, predatory grin returned to his face.

As the boy stepped aside, von Karma didn't move yet but watched carefully, tracking the younger man with his hawk-like eyes, bracing himself for a possible pursuit. He gripped the bat firmly, ready to lift it at just the right moment.

That moment arrived sooner than he expected. Before the Edgeworth brat could get further away, he collapsed against the wall in a sudden fit of agony. von Karma knew the cause of that agony; he would put an end to it, not for the miserable boy's sake but to fulfill his promise to himself that he would destroy every last trace of Gregory Edgeworth.

Leering down upon the wretched, crumpled figure at his feet, von Karma slammed the end of the bat against the floor right next to him. His voice was a deep hiss as he spoke. "And my pressing matter is to take care of you... and the specter of your father residing within your head! You will both die!"

With that, he raised the bat high over his head and arced it downward, targeting the brat's head. As he did so, his shoulder gave a warning twinge, causing his perfect aim to very slightly veer off course.

[high-prosecutor.livejournal.com]

There were a thousand thoughts running through Edgeworth's head as he felt the impact of the bat hitting the floor next to him, but only one was clear enough for him to vocalize. "You bastard. You knew. You knew the whole time," he whispered, no longer trying to hide the shock and fear in his voice.

I knew this was dangerous. I should have listened. I should have run sooner. Pride goes before a fall, I KNEW THAT, and yet, I let this happen. I had all the warnings in the world! Edgeworth cursed internally, and the voice echoed the curse, while at the same time urging him to stand and run away. It shot pain through his head, in an effort to help that only wound up being more of a hindrance.

The prosecutor tried to get to his feet, but his legs were too shaky to support him. The best he could manage was to swing his upper body to the left side as he felt the rush of air that indicated the bat swinging down. It connected with his right shoulder with a sickening crunch, sending pain radiating down his arm, and he let out a low, almost broken howl as it did. The question wasn't whether anything had been broken - it was where and how.

The irony of the injury site wasn't lost on him, despite everything.

[lawful_perfect]

Even before the miserable brat moved aside, von Karma had already realized that the blasted twinge of pain was all it took for his otherwise perfect swing to miss its intended target. Fury burned in his eyes as he continued the swing, unable to stop it. Curse you, Edgeworth! Curse you for this damned shoulder wound you gave me! he roared silently at the pathetic boy as he felt the metallic weapon forcefully strike something just to the left of his original target.

He heard an audible crunch and then the sound of someone singing out in pain... Edgeworth's voice. That cry of intense suffering... utter music to von Karma's ears, taming his unbridled rage just a little bit. And then he saw where the bat had landed. Edgeworth's shoulder. His right shoulder.

"Hah! To rephrase a time-honored saying, a shoulder for a shoulder," von Karma cackled mirthlessly at the sniveling form on the ground, his voice bearing cold satisfaction. "And now... to reference yet another time-worn phrase, this time you will pay for your father's sins."

Though he had expended much energy from that first swing, his primal anger towards all members of the Edgeworth bloodline granted him just enough vigor for one more attempt. This time, he would not -- could not -- miss. He lifted the bat again, holding it behind him as he appraised the situation. Certain of the trajectory required for a perfect hit on the back of the boy's head, which was still sufficiently exposed, he prepared to swing the bat again.

"Die, Edgeworth!"

[pleading-ngri.livejournal.com]

There were only two stationary figures in the hall, and Phoenix caught the cold silver gleam of aluminum seconds before that voice -- that voice -- reached his ears.

For a few terrible seconds, he felt his pulse spike and knew nothing but the blood in his ears and suffocating heat like a hundred voices whispering soft and harsh and baleful. hair hid it so well even you couldn't tell never told Maya they pulled three pieces of skull out of her brain didn't need to know nobody needed to know but they told you because truth is important truth is your job truth is it probably took her a few minutes to die (enough time to write, a lower voice muttered, bitter hot black hate, and if anyone could write with three pieces of skull in their brain it was her) few minutes you weren't there could have been there should have been there done done done something--

It was nearly black in the hall, but for a second it might as well have been bright, bloody red, and his feet raced forward of their own volition, leaving him nothing but hands and voice. The first did nothing until the bat came up in a slow, unerring arc, so perfect he didn't have to think twice about where it would be when he pivoted to a stop and wrapped both hands around the cold, scarred metal of the shaft. And in the end, his voice moved on instinct as surely as his legs had, fixing on the first, the only word that existed in his clouded, spinning mind.

"Objection!" he barked, breathless and wild-eyed with terrified anger, jerking the bat back to himself with every ounce of force he could muster.

[lawful_perfect]

Right in the middle of his swing, von Karma felt something tugging at the bat, pulling it backwards -- preventing him from dealing his justice on Edgeworth. Growling angrily, he spun around to face the audacious meddler, maintaining a deadly tight grip on the bat.

That unkempt, spiky hairstyle. That impetuous shout of "Objection!" That fearful gleam in the man's eyes -- the same deliciously terrified look that a certain rookie defense lawyer had given him not too long ago in the Police Records Room, just before von Karma had deployed his stun gun on him.

"Mr. Phoenix Wright," he snarled as he fought valiantly to pull the bat back towards him. He was not about to lose his prize to a pesky, contemptible defense attorney so easily. Especially one who had been instrumental in destroying his career.

"Come to 'save the day?' As I recall, you do seem to have a bad habit of sticking your nose where it doesn't belong. I can assure you that this affair is none of your concern, and that Miles Edgeworth is capable of handling it. Stay out of it, defense lawyer." His teeth were clenched as he gave his scornful warning, jerking the bat towards him again and vowing to immediately use it against the interfering lawyer once it was once again in his full possession.

Excellent, he thought to himself. Once I wrench the bat away from him, I can destroy the both of them, make them pay for ruining my life.

[high-prosecutor.livejournal.com]

Miles Edgeworth didn't think he had ever been glad to hear Phoenix Wright raise an objection before - he had been annoyed, frustrated, and angry, but never anything resembling glad.

"Wright, this is the second night in a row you've exhibited a lack of concern for your own life," he said, voice strained from the effort to speak through the pain. "I thought I said not to do that." Despite the stern words, he looked up at the defense attorney with gratitude in his eyes.

He realized, to his dismay, that he still couldn't stand, but he could move out of the way. It would be a far clumsier set of movements than he was used to, but at least he would be out of immediate danger. He used his uninjured arm to push himself into a sitting position, then scooted a few feet down the wall.

Now the problem was different: how to keep Phoenix from getting hurt while getting them both out of the situation. His thoughts were still hazy and clouded because of the way that the voice and its own specific pain was mixing with the pain radiating from the injury.

The scalpels in his pocket weren't an option - his dominant arm was the one that had been injured, and there was too much risk of hurting Phoenix if he threw one anyway and missed.

In the end, there was only one thing to do, and that was try and speak clearly enough to get von Karma off guard. That would hopefully make him loose his grip on the bat, and without that, there was a strong chance he would leave. He took a deep breath, then spoke, trying to push through the haze of pain and concern.

"Oh, but it is his concern, Herr von Karma. It is perhaps as much his concern as it is my own...if this is about getting revenge on the people who revealed the truth about you, and you made that clear enough. And now the odds are stacked against you."

[pleading-ngri.livejournal.com]

Yeah, it's a really bad habit, Phoenix responded silently, not even knowing who he meant the reply for more, eyes barely flitting from their glaring bead on von Karma's face to acknowledge Edgeworth's words. Some of the jittery, desperate panic faded as he heard him speak, though. He'd never heard his voice in quite that tone -- he'd heard it angry, frightened, even in denial, but there was an alien tightness of pain in it now. That didn't dissuade him, though -- far from it, it made everything in the situation a little clearer, a little sharper. It was a reassurance. He tightened his white-knuckled grip on the bat, pulling back in response.

He met von Karma's eyes defiantly as he spoke, but did not respond, mind spinning for answers and actions even as he listened. Edgeworth was moving further down the wall, more clearly into his peripheral vision. Von Karma was rebuking him, taunting him, but for once he did not feel the need to pick apart every last word. Phoenix knew bluffs -- you couldn't kid a kidder. And he knew that von Karma lived by rule and precedent, just like they all did, even if his mastery of the rules wasn't intended to help him follow them.

(Rules, his wandering mind mused. Tug-of-war -- each side pulls in the opposite direction. But if one of you breaks those rules. . .)

He remembered Edgeworth creeping to one side. He felt another tug on the metal bat, slowly growing slick with sweat. And, face underlit by the skewed flashlight, he gave a small, slow smile.

"Even if it wasn't about that-" he began, and audible in the even, clear diction of his next words was a let me put this in words you'll understand. "You went after my client. You know it's my business now."

Without warning, he abruptly stopped leaning back and pitched himself forward, driving his shoulder in the direction of the opposite momentum, straight into von Karma and the wall behind him.

[lawful_perfect]

During the struggle to wrest the bat away from the exasperating defense lawyer, von Karma heard his former student scold Wright from where he sat on the ground behind him. The boy was no longer in his field of vision, but he doubted that Edgeworth could get very far before he could reclaim the bat and subdue the other man first.

This ridiculous "tug-of-war" game was taking much too long... though he tried not to show it, he was starting to get weary. His hands started perspiring, making it more difficult to maintain his tight grip on the handle of the bat. His arms were strained, and of course, his right shoulder protested acutely. The only thing that allowed him to persevere in this tiring, inane battle was his fundamental desire to crush both men right afterwards. At the very least, he could not let Wright seize the bat from him.

The boy's voice, weakened from the pain of his injury, drifted towards von Karma from a slightly further distance away behind him. This meant that the brat was trying to escape, though he hadn't gotten far yet. von Karma refused to dignify the irritatingly self-righteous words with a verbal response; besides, he was too occupied at the moment to retort intelligently.

Odds stacked against him? An unacceptable notion! The older prosecutor had to put an end to this foolish game as quickly as possible. Grunting, he tugged as forcefully as he could to dislodge the other end of the bat from the rookie defense lawyer's hands. As he did so, he met Wright's gaze with a fierce stare. The other man's face was glowing from the flashlight secured in his pocket; though von Karma found this a little eerie, he wouldn't let it unnerve him.

Just as he was about to riposte to the vexing attorney's remark, he suddenly found himself driven backwards, his pull on the bat accelerating this motion. His back slammed against the wall behind him. From pain as well as the surprise factor of the charge attack, von Karma yelled out loud. At the same moment, his hands slipped free of the bat's handle. Screaming furiously, he reached out to grab the bat before the blasted defense lawyer took it away, but it was already too late; it was now out of his reach.

Now disarmed of the bat, he glanced all around him to gauge his current situation. The boy was still sitting on the floor a short distance from him, while Wright still had the bat in hand. Would the man use it to attack him? He didn't want to stay long enough to find out, but he was still slightly disoriented from the surprise attack. As he took a moment to recover, he kept his vigilant gaze fixed on Wright, bracing himself to prepare to run at any time.

[pleading-ngri.livejournal.com]

That might have been the first time that Phoenix had body-checked someone, because the way he rebounded off of the solid resistance of the other body surprised him, and it took a few recoiling steps for him to gather his feet under himself again. But the bat came with him, and he turned it as he steadied himself, hands reassuringly solid on the slightly tacky grip tape wound about the handle.

The scream might as well have rendered him deaf; for a few long moments he didn't hear his own breaths shuddering in and out, or Edgeworth, or anything else in the institute. The only thing his body wanted to do was feel, and it wanted to feel the concuss through his hands of hitting something with that bat so hard that the impact shook him all the way up through his shoulders. He wanted justice in a monstrous, life-or-death, adrenaline-fueled way. He wanted revenge for people he knew he'd never meet, and he wanted it in a world where law didn't exist.

Then his tunnel vision began to broaden, bit by bit, and the first thing to creep in was the blue of flesh tone and gray still against the wall. He sidestepped gradually, like a man facing down a wild animal, and a few steps brought him between the two men. If he'd been thinking clearly, he would have known that Edgeworth would hate him for the gesture -- it was presumptuous and overprotective and full of stupid and thoughtless bravado. But Phoenix wasn't going to take a chance and give von Karma a clear path to finish what he'd started. He had to see this through. Edgeworth wasn't going to die tonight.

None of them were going to die tonight.

He swallowed against a throat that stuck to itself with sour dryness, grasping the implement in his hands less like a baseball bat than like a sword. His teeth skittered against one another, trembling-tense. "Get out," he ordered, voice low, and somehow, two simple words were infinitely more difficult than hauling the bat over his head and bringing it down would have been.

[high-prosecutor.livejournal.com]

What the hell are you doing, Wright?

Edgeworth's eyes were wide, and they kept flickering back and forth between the two men up until Phoenix charged at him. He stared, transfixed, then opened his mouth, knowing he needed to say something, anything - and then von Karma screamed.

The scream was enough to break down the last of the tenuous control he still had over the voice. He slumped forward, holding his head in his hands, as it echoed von Karma's scream. It sent another lightning bolt of pain through his head. On top of that, the forward motion aggravated the shoulder injury, but he couldn't bring himself to change positions. He realized that if he tried doing so, he ran the very real risk of losing consciousness, and he wouldn't let his adversary have the satisfaction of watching him black out.

Edgeworth barely noticed when Phoenix stood in front of him, and it took him a moment to register the words that he said. If he had been thinking clearly, he might have had a snappy response to the gesture, but he didn't. After a long moment, he finally spoke. "Do what he says," he said, the words dulled by the pain and exhaustion. They sounded foreign to his own ears, with no traces of the sure, defiant tones they had held only a few moments before.

[lawful_perfect]

Keeping his sight locked on Wright, von Karma watched in frustration as the defense attorney interposed himself in a protective stance between him and the heap of Edgeworth huddled on the ground. So much for his idea to kick the boy on his way out of this hallway.

He considered for a moment. Despite Wright's offensive pose, it appeared that he was more interested in guarding Edgeworth than in attacking the older prosecutor. As long as he kept his distance from them, he was probably safe. Still, he didn't want to stay in here for longer than necessary.

Furthermore, though he still had other weapons, they were far inferior to the bat. He was not about to foolishly waste his baseballs when he might need them to stave off other possible incidents on the way back to his room, and he dared not come anywhere near the other two attorneys to attempt to use his pens to stab them. Besides, his arms had suffered too much strain during his assault upon Edgeworth and his struggle against Wright to reclaim the bat. He was in no shape right now to engage in another attack. His best course of action at the moment was indeed to return to his room and recoup his strength.

Silently, he backed away slowly and deliberately as he glared defiantly at Wright. But the aging prosecutor wouldn't allow them to fully win. After retreating just several feet away, he stopped, still facing them.

Addressing Edgeworth first, he sneered, "Well, boy. Who are you to order me around? Just look at you! Weak. Pitiful. Unable to even stand on your own feet. You even have to have a wretched defense attorney of all people stand guard over you. What would your sister say if she saw you like this?" He shook his head in disapproval. "You have always been an utter disgrace to our family, and your position right now just proves it!"

"And you!" he now spat at the pathetic boy's guardian, his eyes narrowed in cold, vengeful hatred. "Perhaps it won't happen tonight, but know this, Mr. Phoenix Wright!" He paused briefly before continuing in an ominously deep tone. "I always complete what I start. Don't worry about protecting your pet client. You can't possibly maintain constant vigil over him. Besides, once I have finished him, I will see to it that you join him."

Well aware that his words would further provoke the two men -- especially the one now wielding the bat -- he immediately resumed his cautious retreat, a bit faster than before. As he started to do so, he flashed a grim smirk at them. "Well. Guten nacht, and may you have pleasant dreams tonight." His ironic words were mostly directed towards Edgeworth.

After he had cleared a considerable distance from them, he walked normally towards the door from which he had entered this hallway. He didn't want to go outside again, but the route was at least familiar and had seemed safe enough during his trek to here. Once he reached the door and opened it, he made the usual careful inspection before leaving the hallway.

[Back to here]

[pleading-ngri.livejournal.com]

It was clear who had won. That was all that kept Phoenix's feet in place, though even that was a close thing with von Karma standing there, taunting them, telling him that he was going to kill them both. The logical thing would have been to kill him there and then. But Phoenix wasn't that -- he wasn't a killer or a judge of men. He wasn't a fighter, outside of the realm of words and facts. He was a defender, and as much as being that and that alone felt like nothing but a bitter betrayal right now, he couldn't do more than glare and flex his hands on the bat warningly, invisible hackles dancing along his spine, until the door at the end of the hall clicked shut.

Slowly, he lowered the end of the bat, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath as it came to rest against the floor with a short, dull clank. It's over, he told himself, reassurance hollow beneath the dawning awareness that his legs were shaking, head spinning and faintly achy as the panic faded completely. He uncurled his hand from the bat stiffly, turning and kneeling to get a better look at Edgeworth. Unconsciously, he winced, eyes falling first on the unnatural, slumping hunch of his right shoulder, then traveling up to his face.

He almost asked 'are you okay?' but thankfully realized that it was a stupid question before he could do more than open his mouth. He was clearly not alright, he couldn't have been expected to be alright, and if what Phoenix knew of him was accurate, he would just take the question as a personal challenge to prove that the answer was 'yes' anyway. There were things he was willing to underestimate, but Edgeworth's capacity to demonstrate self-sufficiency at the expense of his own health was not one of them.

After clearing his throat in a vain attempt to force a little more strength into his voice, he raised a question, voice hushed but clear. "Can you walk? It's not safe out here." He forced himself to speak business and nothing else. There would be time for more with a barricaded door between them and the monsters. Right now he couldn't leave the awareness that they were in open water and bleeding.

As Phoenix spoke, he reached out and set his hand on Edgeworth's good shoulder, fingers curling around his upper arm. The gesture was just as much an attempt to provide some sense of comfort as it was a completely selfish request. It was a plea for an acknowledging noise, for some kind of significant eye contact, for anything that would change the expression on his face. Miles didn't look like he'd seen a ghost -- he looked like he couldn't see anything else.

[high-prosecutor.livejournal.com]

von Karma's words echoed through Edgeworth's head, the threats against Phoenix combining with the personalized taunts. He wanted to protest, but the words seemed to choke him when he tried forcing them out. The voice tried to encourage him with one last noise, which only served to further hinder his attempts to speak.

He only vaguely processed his former mentor's final taunt under the noise of his footsteps moving down the hall. The moment the door slammed, he let out a shuddering breath, his body trembling with the force of it. He slid a few more inches down the wall as he did.

It took him several moments to realize Phoenix was next to him, looking more frightened than he could remember seeing him with the exception of the night he had been taken for the experiments. It was another few moments before Edgeworth's brain registered the fact that he was being spoken to, and it was only the light touch to his good shoulder that let him focus enough to reply.

"Once I'm on my feet, I...think I'll be able to walk." His voice was still strained and hollow-sounding, but it didn't sound quite as alien as it had a moment ago. He shifted positions, trying to brace his uninjured arm against the wall for support as he got his shaky legs back under him.

His pride wouldn't let him say that he couldn't quite get up without extra support, nor would his stubborn sense of self-sufficiency. At the same time, though, there was a look in his eyes that indicated he wouldn't push Phoenix away if he tried to help.

[pleading-ngri.livejournal.com]

There you are. Phoenix didn't even try to hide the look of relief that greeted the words and the way his eyes finally focused, however slowly. Thank God, now we can- oh hell I should have figured you'd try to-

As unobtrusively as he could while still moving quickly, he caught Miles' sleeve with a muted 'hold it,' something he would have done even without the tacit permission in that look. Ducking under the upraised arm, he held it around his shoulders in a way that probably wouldn't have been so practiced if he hadn't been friends with Larry for so many years. Only once he was sure that his grip was solid did he begin to stand, wrapping his other arm, bat still firmly in hand, around Miles' waist. Even as he did, he still found himself glancing fitfully up and down the corridor, anticipating footsteps that never came.

[high-prosecutor.livejournal.com]

Miles started to protest, but the words died on his tongue. It felt strangely as if he were just learning to walk and needed a bit more practice, and that sentiment was only echoed by his labored breathing.

He carefully leaned on Phoenix, wondering only briefly how exactly he'd gotten used to supporting other people. When something stinks, it's usually the Butz. How the old elementary school saying was so clear when most of his other thoughts were panicked, he'd never know.

He darted his eyes around the room, trying to weigh the options. He would normally insist on getting to the clinic, but two things stopped him - first, the fact that going that way would possibly lead them into von Karma's path again. The second was his own panic and exhaustion; he wasn't sure he would be able to get there without passing out.

"Your room's closest to here, and we can figure things out from there," he muttered, taking a trembling step forward. The door leading to the next block was only a few yards in front of them.

[to here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/455255.html)]