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31_days2008-06-18 07:22 pm
k-puff.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2008-06-18 07:22 pm
[June 18, 2008] [Phoenix Wright, Ace Attorney] Contradictory
Title: Contradictory
Day/Theme: June 18th, "where the irish bagpipes drone"
Series: Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney
Character/Pairing: Wright, Edgeworth, genfic!
Summary: Set after the end of the first game, with the case "Rise from the Ashes". Phoenix and Edgeworth get in an argument...sort of.
Wright stepped off the elevator and retraced now-familiar steps, barely even bothering to knock on the grandiose door as he entered. He blinked at the sudden onslaught of red (pinkish-red, he thought) and gold, frills and decorations that surrounded Edgeworth’s office. His eyes fell, as ever, to the tell-tale chess set on his right. Someone had moved the spiky pawn so that it faced the red king. Interesting.
His eyes slid over to Edgeworth, whose concentration was pointedly focused on sealing an envelope with exaggerated care. He could at least greet me, Wright thought, rolling his eyes.
"I dropped off Ema at the train station," he started lamely. "On her way to Europe, and all."
Edgeworth nodded. "I see."
It didn’t seem like he was interested in talking. Wright sighed and looked back at the chess board, walking over to sit in the seat beside it. "You know," he said as he sat down, hoping Edgeworth would take the hint that he wasn’t planning on going anywhere. "Lana was right, back at the courthouse." No reaction. Wright continued. "About being a team?"
At this, Edgeworth scowled and stood, walking back to his window. "We are not a team, Wright."
"Edgeworth..."
"What happened in that court room was simply me defending my honor as a prosecutor—"
"I couldn’t have won that trial alone, and neither could you!"
"—which in no way implies some kind of buddy-buddy partnership," Edgeworth continued gruffly. The two of them shared a brief glare. "Prosecutors and Defense Attorneys are like Ireland and Scotland, Wright. Only the ignorant get them confused; everyone else knows that they are two entirely different societies."
"But with a common goal!" Wright insisted, leaning forward in his seat, unblinking and pointedly ignoring Edgeworth’s horrendous metaphor. "Edge, I know that all you really want to do is bring criminals to justice; I get that. But you don’t see that this is exactly what we accomplished in that courtroom—"
"Maybe you’ve forgotten," Edgeworth said, striding over to grip the back of a plush armchair. "but I lost that case, Wright! Excuse me if I’m not as quick to celebrate its conclusion as you are."
He says that like he thinks it makes him weak, Wright thought as he pounded the table, chess pieces jumping. "Edgeworth, that is your problem! You’re so concentrated on the details that you never stop to look at the bigger picture!"
Edgeworth spluttered and fumed, but Wright didn’t want to give him the chance to fight back. "Edge," he said. "Stop thinking in terms of winning and losing, and look at what we were able to accomplish! Ultimately, the only outcome of that trial was that we discovered the truth! The truth will always put the criminal behind bars, no matter which side of the courtroom he’s on! So we saved Lana, we saved Ema, we put a corrupt and violent man behind bars, and now, if you let me," he sighed. "We can save you, too?"
Edgeworth’s eyes were dark, his scowl pronounced, and his nostrils flared. "Save me? SAVE me!? Save me from what, Wright? What kind of grand, overdramatic miracle of justice will you be pulling out of your hat this time!?"
"You heard what Lana said and it got to you!" Wright said, standing to look Edgeworth straight in the eye and resisting the urge to point. "The thought of your two mentors, von Karma and Gant, it gets under your skin, doesn’t it? But Edge," Wright sighed and rubbed his eyes. "Lana was right when she said you don’t have to be like them. You don’t have to be alone!"
"I do NOT need to be saved!"
They both fell into silence, glaring at each other. Until finally, Wright realized.
"You’re right," he said.
Edgeworth raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"
"I said, you’re right." Wright shrugged and reached a hand up to rub his neck. "You don’t need to be saved. For heaven’s sake, you’re Miles Edgeworth! It’s widely known that you’re a genius, a prodigy, and you have all the tools you need to become the greatest Prosecutor in the world. You don’t need to be saved." And he sat back down.
He waited for the reaction. Edgeworth fumed and spluttered some more, turning his back on Wright momentarily and pounding a fist against the back of the plush chair that still bore marks from his tense grip. "Wright!" he bellowed, turning back to face him with wild eyes. "This is what you do! This is how you win your blasted cases! You twist and confuse until the witness has no idea what to say or think and then three days later you end up finally pulling something out of your—"
"Hey," Wright said, standing up and feeling to need to defend himself. "All I’m really good at is finding contradictions! And you," he realized, pointing at Edgeworth, "are just one big, ridiculous, walking contradiction!"
"I’m a contradiction!? I’m ridiculous!?"
"Well, for starters, you’re a Prosecutor who secretly wants to be a Defense Attourney, so I’d say yeah, you are!"
Edgeworth’s expression became carefully controlled, except for narrowed, competitive eyes. "At least I don’t enlist assistants that are ten years younger than me, you cradle-robber!"
"Eight years! And at least I don’t have full-grown fanboys."
"At least I don’t have a secret crush on my dead boss."
"At least I’m not going gray at 24."
"At least I don’t have funny eyebrows!"
"At least I don’t wear pink suits and ruffly shirts!"
"Porcupine head!"
"Angst bucket!"
They stood, glaring at each other and breathing somewhat heavily, for almost half a minute. Then Wright couldn’t help it any more.
He started to laugh. Slow at first, but then growing to a full-scale belly laugh that forced him to sink back down into his chair, holding his sides. Edgeworth glared at him disapprovingly, but even Wright could see the tell-tale smirk.
"Wright," he said. "You are a crazy, crazy fool."
"Most likely," Wright agreed, wiping the moisture from his eyes, still chuckling. "But I have great instincts."
Edgeworth turned away, but not before Wright could hear him mumble, "Yes...you certainly do."
Day/Theme: June 18th, "where the irish bagpipes drone"
Series: Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney
Character/Pairing: Wright, Edgeworth, genfic!
Summary: Set after the end of the first game, with the case "Rise from the Ashes". Phoenix and Edgeworth get in an argument...sort of.
Wright stepped off the elevator and retraced now-familiar steps, barely even bothering to knock on the grandiose door as he entered. He blinked at the sudden onslaught of red (pinkish-red, he thought) and gold, frills and decorations that surrounded Edgeworth’s office. His eyes fell, as ever, to the tell-tale chess set on his right. Someone had moved the spiky pawn so that it faced the red king. Interesting.
His eyes slid over to Edgeworth, whose concentration was pointedly focused on sealing an envelope with exaggerated care. He could at least greet me, Wright thought, rolling his eyes.
"I dropped off Ema at the train station," he started lamely. "On her way to Europe, and all."
Edgeworth nodded. "I see."
It didn’t seem like he was interested in talking. Wright sighed and looked back at the chess board, walking over to sit in the seat beside it. "You know," he said as he sat down, hoping Edgeworth would take the hint that he wasn’t planning on going anywhere. "Lana was right, back at the courthouse." No reaction. Wright continued. "About being a team?"
At this, Edgeworth scowled and stood, walking back to his window. "We are not a team, Wright."
"Edgeworth..."
"What happened in that court room was simply me defending my honor as a prosecutor—"
"I couldn’t have won that trial alone, and neither could you!"
"—which in no way implies some kind of buddy-buddy partnership," Edgeworth continued gruffly. The two of them shared a brief glare. "Prosecutors and Defense Attorneys are like Ireland and Scotland, Wright. Only the ignorant get them confused; everyone else knows that they are two entirely different societies."
"But with a common goal!" Wright insisted, leaning forward in his seat, unblinking and pointedly ignoring Edgeworth’s horrendous metaphor. "Edge, I know that all you really want to do is bring criminals to justice; I get that. But you don’t see that this is exactly what we accomplished in that courtroom—"
"Maybe you’ve forgotten," Edgeworth said, striding over to grip the back of a plush armchair. "but I lost that case, Wright! Excuse me if I’m not as quick to celebrate its conclusion as you are."
He says that like he thinks it makes him weak, Wright thought as he pounded the table, chess pieces jumping. "Edgeworth, that is your problem! You’re so concentrated on the details that you never stop to look at the bigger picture!"
Edgeworth spluttered and fumed, but Wright didn’t want to give him the chance to fight back. "Edge," he said. "Stop thinking in terms of winning and losing, and look at what we were able to accomplish! Ultimately, the only outcome of that trial was that we discovered the truth! The truth will always put the criminal behind bars, no matter which side of the courtroom he’s on! So we saved Lana, we saved Ema, we put a corrupt and violent man behind bars, and now, if you let me," he sighed. "We can save you, too?"
Edgeworth’s eyes were dark, his scowl pronounced, and his nostrils flared. "Save me? SAVE me!? Save me from what, Wright? What kind of grand, overdramatic miracle of justice will you be pulling out of your hat this time!?"
"You heard what Lana said and it got to you!" Wright said, standing to look Edgeworth straight in the eye and resisting the urge to point. "The thought of your two mentors, von Karma and Gant, it gets under your skin, doesn’t it? But Edge," Wright sighed and rubbed his eyes. "Lana was right when she said you don’t have to be like them. You don’t have to be alone!"
"I do NOT need to be saved!"
They both fell into silence, glaring at each other. Until finally, Wright realized.
"You’re right," he said.
Edgeworth raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"
"I said, you’re right." Wright shrugged and reached a hand up to rub his neck. "You don’t need to be saved. For heaven’s sake, you’re Miles Edgeworth! It’s widely known that you’re a genius, a prodigy, and you have all the tools you need to become the greatest Prosecutor in the world. You don’t need to be saved." And he sat back down.
He waited for the reaction. Edgeworth fumed and spluttered some more, turning his back on Wright momentarily and pounding a fist against the back of the plush chair that still bore marks from his tense grip. "Wright!" he bellowed, turning back to face him with wild eyes. "This is what you do! This is how you win your blasted cases! You twist and confuse until the witness has no idea what to say or think and then three days later you end up finally pulling something out of your—"
"Hey," Wright said, standing up and feeling to need to defend himself. "All I’m really good at is finding contradictions! And you," he realized, pointing at Edgeworth, "are just one big, ridiculous, walking contradiction!"
"I’m a contradiction!? I’m ridiculous!?"
"Well, for starters, you’re a Prosecutor who secretly wants to be a Defense Attourney, so I’d say yeah, you are!"
Edgeworth’s expression became carefully controlled, except for narrowed, competitive eyes. "At least I don’t enlist assistants that are ten years younger than me, you cradle-robber!"
"Eight years! And at least I don’t have full-grown fanboys."
"At least I don’t have a secret crush on my dead boss."
"At least I’m not going gray at 24."
"At least I don’t have funny eyebrows!"
"At least I don’t wear pink suits and ruffly shirts!"
"Porcupine head!"
"Angst bucket!"
They stood, glaring at each other and breathing somewhat heavily, for almost half a minute. Then Wright couldn’t help it any more.
He started to laugh. Slow at first, but then growing to a full-scale belly laugh that forced him to sink back down into his chair, holding his sides. Edgeworth glared at him disapprovingly, but even Wright could see the tell-tale smirk.
"Wright," he said. "You are a crazy, crazy fool."
"Most likely," Wright agreed, wiping the moisture from his eyes, still chuckling. "But I have great instincts."
Edgeworth turned away, but not before Wright could hear him mumble, "Yes...you certainly do."