And this is something I wrote for the lovely JordanPhoenix, because I'm a die-hard fan of her masterpiece Turnabout Everlasting and was longing for some closure for my beloved OTP! Nota Bene: If you haven't read TE, this might not make sense. Like, at all. Still, this was purposefully written to be a very vague fic, so you can probably fill it in with thoughts of your own. Interpret how you will, I guess. Oh, and enjoy, of course!


The day was far too warm and gentle for the brisk London winds that sliced it. Miles Edgeworth could relate, as the prickling breeze on his back felt nearly identical to the series of stab wounds in his heart. Hands jammed in pockets, the prosecutor wandered furiously through the streets, headed nowhere fast.

How has it come to this? He lamented. Franziska doesn't want to be found… Have I truly hurt you that badly, meine dame? To such an extent that you would never lay eyes on me again?

Such thoughts were tormenting, echoing through him with each step. Even the usually articulate rhetorician couldn't find words to describe his own excruciating agony. God, he ultimately begged, if you're up there, I could use some help.

The man stopped in the middle of the street, turning to one of the shop windows, staring intently into his reflection. At least, I just want to see Franziska, one last time. If she's going through half the Hell I am, and on my account… I need to apologize.

He broke his gaze, unable to bear his wounded expression any longer. Moving on, he approached an uncrowded Southwark bridge, glaring down at the murky Thames below. Unwittingly, the unfocused prosecutor bumped into someone, a pedestrian stopped in the middle of the path, observing the unseemly view.

"Oof!" the person, a young woman, stuttered, nearly losing her balance as she stumbled away from him. "Fool, watch where you-"

Eyes met, wide and horrified. Blood rushed from faces, paling both astounded prosecutors. They instantly recognized everything, the face, the voice, the gait, and it all came crashing down.

"Miles Edgeworth!?"

At that moment, nothing happened. Static. Strain. Starch.

There was no "melting away", just an abrupt closure. At that single instant, the world ended. Everything dispersed, vanished; everything except for her. After all, in that moment Miles Edgeworth swore to the great God who'd gifted him this chance that he would never let her out of his sight again, and such vows always remain, even when nothing else does.

Blinding white noise and a blinding white backdrop are drowning us; we are encompassed in pure silence, and nothing else exists. Just you and me, Franziska von Karma.

She wants to run, but her legs cannot move. Gravity is increased by tenfold, and she is weighed down by years of heavy burdens, of guilt and despair. The unbearable force tugs on her whole body, dragging out cumbersome tears from her eyes, her lip sinking to a tremble. Everything hurts, but everything is not there. There is only nothing.

He wants to call out her name, but his voice no longer exists; it, too, has disappeared. He stares into her, his lame mouth ponderously forming the hollow words: I missed you.

Shut up, she wants to scream, you have no right to do this! I can't take the pain any longer, leave me be, Miles Edgeworth! I have no desire to come rushing back to you, only to be broken again. These thoughts bounce around her head, searching for somewhere else to go, but finding nowhere. She can only stay, facing him, silently dying under the force of her own exhaustion. Breathing becomes difficult.

Steadily, he finds the strength to move. Each step toward her is onerous, his feet clomping down as if encased in osmium bricks, sending boundless vibrations through the unlimited nullity. He needs to keep moving. He knows he must reach her, no matter what, because although the world may have ended, Franziska von Karma was his world. She still is.

Approaching her feet, the freighted misery becomes too much; he falls to his knees, sweat and tears streaming from his face. His head is too full to lift, and he persists to stare at her boots. He can't lose her again, not now. But his eyelids are debilitated, and his consciousness begins to slip away. I'm sorry, he mouths, not apologizing to himself, but to her. He realizes now that all this suffering is mutual, but he couldn't save her from it, not this time.

Franziska plummets to her knees, her resistance giving out, wordlessly calling to him. Finding her own strength, she raises a finger, lifting his chin up until their eyes clash, full of lachrymosity. I love you, she pleaded, I've always loved you, even when you hurt me. Now that we've found each other, I can't leave again, not without you. That fact brings me more joy and sorrow than anything else could.

She threw her arms around his neck, his hands steadily approaching a delicate perch on her hips. They lean against each other, sacrificing their hefty separation for a moment of shared affliction. Weak, she thought, We're so weak, when we're like this.

We can be strong together, he recalls, Just like we once were. Searching in her eyes, though, he realizes that nothing can fix this. Nothing will be able to take them back to how things once were.

Which was excellent. Nothing is the one thing they had in abundance.

Franziska, he implored, forgive me… please… With that, he slipped away, his eyelids collapsing, his hands falling to his sides.

Miles! She internally screeched, scowling, cupping his face in her hands. Diligently, she brings him to her level, steadily leaning in, closing her own eyes gracefully. She pauses, giving a final warm breath, then tenderly placing her lips on his.

Silence.

Miles…

Franziska…

You've saved me.

All at once, everything comes flooding back: memories, surroundings, passion, vision, consciousness, love. Edgeworth entangled his fingers into her hair, pressing himself against her, deepening the kiss. She counters him with every bit of vigor and fervency.

Everything is now returned to how it once was, even though everything is simultaneously changed. The pair pulls apart slowly, only to face each other in new light. He rises to his feet again, offering her a hand up, which she takes with a nod. Once on her feet, Franziska met him with a smile, but a glare.

"Foolish fool," she scoffed, wiping tears from her cheeks, "Never do that to me again."

"Naturally," he cooed, meaningfully soothing her, "I wouldn't dream of it. You were kind enough to give me a second chance, Franziska von Karma; do you doubt my ability to use it wisely?"

"Yes… and no." Gazing trustfully into his eyes, she offered a despondent smile. "Now that I know that you need me just as much as I need you, things will be different; however, I think nothing will be able to truly fix me, after all this time."

Miles Edgeworth nodded gravely, a slight grin playing on his lips. He took her up in his arms, caressing her with his heat, and planting a brief kiss on her forehead.

"Yes," he breathed, "And I believe that nothing will."


And that's that! Thanks for reading, I really hope you didn't hate it, and PLEASE read JP's Turnabout Everlasting if you haven't! Have a nice day!