(To) Define
1) To determine or identify the essential qualities or meanings of
2) To make distinct, clear, or detailed
3) To characterize
Q Waves
(df) Surface seismic waves that cause horizontal shifting of the earth during an earthquake. The motion that most people feel directly, these waves are the fastest surface wave, contain a large amount of energy, and take a long time to dissipate. Also known as Love waves.
"Miles Edgeworth!"
Putting her shoulder to the cracked paneling, Franziska von Karma determinedly shoved her weight against the heavy door that blocked the way into her adopted brother's office. Around her police officers were sprinting down the halls of the prosecutors' department and the lights overhead were flickering, but Franziska paid them little mind. She was no electrician and running laps amongst the masses wasn't going to solve this natural disaster, so what use was there to panic? She understood the uncontrollability of earthquakes very well. Let the officers be terrified. There was only one person in this building that she wanted to convert to her opinion.
"Miles Edgeworth, if you don't help me open this door I will flay an inch off your foolish hide!" Grunting in frustration, Franziska took a step back from the door, snapped her whip three times at the stubborn hinges, then squared her shoulders and rammed her body against the wood.
With a protesting groan, the door nudged out of the frame and swung a few inches into the room. Frowning in distaste, the young prosecutor slid through the small opening and into the room.
The office showed a state of similar disarray to the hallways outside. Books and files lay scattered all over the floor, Miles' beloved tea set smashed into fragments interspersed with stray chess pieces, and the large, comfortable rolling chair overturned. In fact the only thing that appeared untouched was the Steel Samurai figurine placed in the spot of glory near the cracked window. Franziska smirked as her eyes fell upon it. Trust Miles' childish hero to withstand what he could not.
Because she could see her foolish little brother now, crouched beneath the desk with his legs drawn up nearly to his chest, staring at her as if she were the biggest fool in his office.
"Just what do you think you are doing, Miles Edgeworth? The earthquake has ended and it would be foolish not to vacate the building until its stability-" Her remonstration ended abruptly with a thud as she found herself yanked beneath the desk and shoved against the drawer support, her shoulder beginning to ache from the continued abuse. Miles' angry face hovered above hers as he pinned her under the tabletop.
If he thought she would be intimidated by his severe expression, he was mistaken. "Unhand me right now!" Franziska ordered.
Almost simultaneously, Miles snapped, "What are you doing here?!"
Striving to look unruffled even as her arms struggled to free themselves from his grip and swing her whip, she lifted her nose slightly. "I am attempting to remove my foolish subordinate from his office."
"In America!" the man in front of her clarified, moving his hands to her shoulders as he shook her slightly.
"Stop that! I sent you that message saying I would be returning to investigate a lead on the latest case Interpol has requested my collaboration on, did I not?"
"That wasn't supposed to be until next week," Miles replied testily. But the prosecutor was starting to look a little wild around the eyes, and so Franziska resisted the urge to slam the now free butt of her whip into his gut. After all, she was well acquainted with his past, though most of the time she ignored the more unpleasant aspects of it, and wasn't that the reason she had broken into this room?
Calling upon her small reserves of patience, her tone dismissed his concerns as trivial. "I finished with my last trial a few days earlier than expected, so I decided not to waste time in Germany and instead book an immediate flight. I arrived this morning."
The mouth in front of her firmed into a stern line. "You should have stuck to your original plans."
"Miles Edgeworth! Don't be a fool! Earthquakes are unpredictable."
"Yes," he agreed suddenly, and Franziska let her body relax with the thought that perhaps she had gotten through to him after all, before he settled more firmly beside her, "which is why we are going to remain here where it is safe until we are certain all aftershocks have passed. There is nothing we can do about your poor timing in arrival now, but I can at least ensure that neither of us is hurt." A frown crossed his face as Miles shifted his hands off her shoulders. Swift fingers turned her elbow to locate the tear in her sleeve. "What happened here?"
"Some fool caught me with the edge of his badge as he fell. It's just a scratch," Franziska dismissed. She attempted to shrug off his hand as she continued. Knowing her adopted brother and how his mind worked, she turned to logic to reassure him. "There have already been two aftershocks of decreasing magnitude in the last hour. The fire marshal is now asking all nonessential personnel to remove themselves from the building while it's checked for gas leaks. Scruffy had assumed you'd be outside. I was the only one unconvinced by your unresponsive door."
But Miles' attention was clearly not focused on her explanation. He was staring down at where his thumb had run across her shallow injury and come away bloody. "Franziska, why didn't you just stay in the air?" he muttered under his breath.
"Miles," she replied, dropping his last name in response to his informal address and keeping her voice as quiet as his, "how many times do I have to tell you to not be a fool?" Her volume rose as she watched his hand rise to his neck. "I'll be fine, there's a first aid station set up in the courtyard-"
Batting away her hand, Miles deftly tied his neck cloth around her arm. Letting the corner of his mouth rise in the first, if strained, sign of humor he had shown since her arrival, he smirked back at her. "I'd rather you not seek revenge against some poor junior officer for a scar that can easily be prevented. And after my encounter with Kay all those years ago, I've learned to keep spares nearby. There's one in my briefcase," he waved at the dark tote she saw stranded in a small sea of chess pieces and crockery, "and two more in my car. So I can easily spare a cravat for the good of humanity."
"Hmph." Franziska pulled a juvenile pout for a moment before letting a triumphant smile linger over her lips. "Well then, I'll just have to charge that careless fool for the cleaning bill. With the state of his paycheck, I'm not sure he'll thank you for your intervention at all."
An amused eyebrow rose in response. "Ah. Detective Gumshoe will be eating noodles for the rest of the month?"
"I doubt he will be able to pay without installments. Surely he will be slurping his dinner for the rest of this year."
A light chuckle emerged from the prosecutor beside her. "I'm sure the detective also wishes you had prolonged your time in Germany."
"And I'm sure he'll change his mind when he discovers that without my assistance you'd stay cowering under your desk for weeks."
Miles' good humor immediately vanished, his demeanor suffused with tension once more. "It's still too dangerous to go anywhere."
A rare sigh escaped Franziska as her irritation mounted. Why was this man so unbelievably stubborn about foolish things? She'd spent the better part of her childhood perfecting the art of winding the men in her life, both her father and the young interloper into her family, Miles Edgeworth, around her delicate little fingers and she was not above using that talent to suit her needs, but occasionally Miles would prove to be more resistant than even her father to her whims.
In the realm of the courts she respected it. After the infamous trial of the "genius" prosecutor and the reopening of DL-6, it hadn't been her father she had come running after, but Miles. Oh, she had not abandoned her father's philosophy, she still believed that to be sound, a perfect prosecutor should after all have a perfect victory, but forged evidence demonstrated only an inability to determine the perfect truth by oneself. Miles had been the one to stubbornly stick to his ideals, and she admired that. Even after his losses to Phoenix Wright, he had managed to still recognize the true purpose of the court, and she clung to that steadfastness he showed her when she was brought down by her own defeat even as she hated him for outpacing her in understanding once again, hated herself for being unable to catch him at that time, to have him so close and yet still just out of reach. And he had stubbornly believed that the ensuing competitions between them would be evenly matched. As if she wouldn't surpass him in the future. Just who was the von Karma here?
In his foolish habits she despised it. She supposed she could understand his persistence of friendship with Phoenix Wright, the man was, or had been, a worthy adversary after all, but why did he have to acknowledge his old childhood friendship with that most foolish of fools, Larry Butz? Miles was often an unusually sensible man, but his association with that idiot made her question her adopted brother's intelligence. And he had an unreasonable tendency to harbor childhood fears. Overcoming challenges faced when young made a person stronger and more capable, and yet Miles continued to be terrified of earthquakes. He hid it well and he did his best to avoid any situation that may have him trapped if one occurred, but it hindered him. Just eight months ago a suspect had escaped while he had been debilitated by a quake. She wondered if his lack of response after this earthquake had first hit was because he had blacked out again. Why did he linger in this fear when he knew the physics of the natural disaster, knew logically what had occurred and what he could do to protect himself, and the truth of the event all those years ago? Franziska could only attribute it to foolish stubbornness.
But she, too, had a couple of secrets within her heart that she clung to with pure foolish stubbornness, and so she supposed she could forgive a few of his, Larry Butz not included. She hadn't come in here to change his psyche, only to support his weakness and herd the fool to safety.
"Think logically. The aftershocks are dissipating. The last one was almost thirty minutes ago. And if another occurs, there are plenty of door frames we can prop ourselves into on the way out." She said it briskly, but her tone wasn't harsh. Miles Edgeworth was much like a high-strung horse when frightened. He would not be moved by heavy handed commands; he could only be coaxed along with steady reasoning and instruction.
"Which means that another could be due at any second. We would be much wiser to wait until we are certain that we will not be caught unprotected."
Franziska assessed the firm look in his brown eyes. Obviously he had used his time petrified under the desk to think this out. Which meant she wasn't going to lure him out so easily. "As I stated before, the fire marshal has ordered the exit of all unnecessary people. We would be defying the law to stay."
She saw him hesitate on this one. Miles respected lawful authority and he trusted in its ability to ultimately do the right thing. But, slowly, he shook his head. "The order is to ensure the safety of the public. It would be safer for us to remain. Furthermore," he continued, warming to the topic and becoming slightly more animated, "my office is nowhere near any gas lines."
Trust him to have the blueprints for the building memorized. Franziska bit back the urge to whip him into compliance. With all the debris littering his office floor, she really would rather not stay for another aftershock. She had had to pick her way across it to get in, and she might have to dance her way across it to get out. "If a fire were to begin, your distance from the gas lines would not-"
Franziska despised being interrupted. That it had happened three times in a single afternoon was a persistent annoyance. She hated it more when her counterargument was cut off by a familiar shaking that rattled the room around her and announced the arrival of the third aftershock. Almost immediately Miles had rotated over her again, his arms wrapping around her shoulders as he used his body to both hover over her protectively and push her against the solid side of the desk support. She had to appreciate his concern for her even as it made her exasperated. This was the weakest round of quaking yet, they were hardly in danger beneath the desk, the files still on his shelves were barely quivering, and yet Miles Edgeworth was shaking like a leaf against her, his forehead pressed to the wood beside her head and his eyes closed as he tried to block out everything around him. He was terrified, and, she realized, he was terrified for her, as he had been the moment he had seen her walk into the room, but he was doing the best he could to keep them safe.
His stubborn foolishness had surfaced again. And, wrapped in the evidence of his, she indulged for a moment in her own lingering affliction. Softly, carefully so as not to startle him, her own arms came up to curl around his back, the whip abandoned by her hip on the floor. A palm smoothed its way soothingly along his spine as her other hand hooked over his shoulder. Oh, she truly loved this man. More than she had ever hated him. Most of the time it was all tangled up with competitiveness and pride and habit, but she had loved him for years and had buried it under familial affection.
But they were not related. They had been childhood companions, they had been fierce competitors for her father's admiration and praise, and they had been colleagues who worked together seamlessly, but they were not related, no matter how much she teased him as her "little brother". And in moments like this she had to acknowledge the truth, that she loved Miles Edgeworth, this rarely foolish and wonderful man.
He quieted as the shaking subsided, his breath by her ear slowing back into a steadier rhythm and his body ceasing to shiver. Softly, she patted his back as if to reassure a small child. "Miles," she said evenly, then paused as the building gave an almighty groan, the floor shook for a moment, and the man wrapped around her tightened his grip with almost rough abruptness.
"Miles," she said again, trying to infuse a bit of briskness into her voice as a soft, understanding smile fought to emerge from the edges of her mouth, "it was just the building settling."
"Yes," he said after a moment, flustered. His fingers loosened their grip on the back of her vest but didn't retreat. "Yes, I've heard they can do that."
"We need to leave," Franziska continued, letting her emotions coalesce back into their normal pattern and her arms fall away. "The shock has passed and we will have plenty of time before the next one hits. This building is not safe until they've done a thorough inspection."
After a few minutes of hesitation, Miles seemed to steel himself and drew back. He met her cool gaze with one of his own, his trepidation clearly pushed down for the moment. "I believe you are correct," he said with a nod. "It would be best to make our way to the exit at this time."
"Well then," Franziska replied, gesturing to the door. Obediently, Miles ducked out from under the desk and rose, turning back to offer her a hand up as well. As she brushed at her skirt and watched the prosecutor beside her clear a path out, the door suddenly swung fully open.
"Sir!" an annoyingly loud voice bellowed. The distinctive green coat Franziska thought she had left behind downstairs swung in her direction. "And Ms. von Karma! I've been looking everywhere for you, sirs! After that last earthquake I thought you could be in big trouble!"
"We're fine, detective," Miles said with deceptive placidity for a man who had been quivering in fear against her not five minutes ago. Feeling the irritation she had suppressed begin to rise again, Franziska leaned over and began to feel under the desk for her whip.
An exclamation of dismay came from the doorway. "But Ms. von Karma must have hurt her arm!"
With a crack of her whip, Franziska turned to Detective Gumshoe with an irate countenance. "Fool! And whose fault do you think that is?!"
"Yeouch!"
"It's just a scratch." And she could hear the smirk in Miles' voice without having to see it on his face. Her indignation of having her own words turned against her diffused, however, as she felt his hand wrap firmly around her free one. Rapidly, she forced herself to conceal her shock. They hadn't held hands for years, not since Miles had been fifteen, she was sure, and it caused an unsettling flutter to begin in her stomach. But if Miles noticed the skipped beat in her pulse, he gave no sign. "If you'll be good enough to guide us to the first aid area, she'll be patched up in no time."
"Right you are, pal!" Gumshoe replied cheerily, turning back to the hallway.
Behind him, Franziska and Miles followed sedately. "The continued tectonic waves must have addled his head," she said quietly, weaving alongside her adopted brother through the occasional areas of disorder and debris in the hallway. But she couldn't quite think of him as a brother with her hand still in his. Her fellow prosecutor, then.
"In this situation, I can be charitable about the reason," Miles replied wryly. His expression sobered as he glanced at her once, then faced forward again to follow the detective. "Thank you, Franziska."
Deftly dodging an overturned bench, Franziska briefly squeezed his hand. "Don't worry about it, you foolish man."
Miles' soft laugh echoed down the stairwell as they exited the building.