(( A/N: This actually wasn't intended as a two-shot, but overall it was too long for just one chapter. xD I wrote one right after another, so that's pretty much how they'll be uploaded.

…So yeah. I hope you're still enjoyin' ;D))

Tea Bags

A fanfiction by Mr.Trite

The great prosecutor Miles Edgeworth chooses…death?

The bellboy read the seven words over and over again, the fine paper shaking in his hands even more than it already was. Death. He read the word again, feeling the sudden urge to vomit. He shook it off, thinking how mad his boss would be if he saw such a mess on the floor- After all, this could just be a prank, right? Some sneaky way to test how loyal the bellboy truly was to his employer?

"Serious? Yes- I never kid, Mister Bellboy."

He looked to the bay window that he was just previously admiring- He knew how fond Mr.Edgeworth was of that window- He made the bellboy clean it every four days. He'd often find his employer staring out of the window when he wasn't working, silently sipping his tea. How sad he always seemed to look, that haze in his eyes…Almost as if his mind was somewhere far, far away…

The twenty-seven year old rushed towards the window, the fancy letter he once previously held in his hands fluttering to the floor like a fallen butterfly, narrowly missing the desk. Only when he made it to the window did the bellboy realize that it was wide open.

Frantically, he stuck his head out the window, narrowly missing the statue of the Steel Samurai that a 'Miss Wendy' had sent him quite a while ago. He looked straight down onto the busy sidewalk and highway below, expecting to hear shocked screaming, and all-around chaos. It took him a minute, but the reality finally sank in that there was no screaming, and furthermore, no body. Where…?

He was on his feet again, before his mind had the time to catch up with his body. The parking garage. He ran desperately out of Miles Edgeworth's office, this being the fastest his legs had pumped- He would have to rest them in ice later once he found Mr.Edgeworth, of course. His suddenly swerved, narrowly missing a head-first encounter with a slightly older woman, long, cascading caramel hair falling down her back and a picnic basket slung over her arm. She didn't have the time to tell him off before he ran off, but did take the time to scream after him. "Watch where you're going, slave boy!"

"Sorry, Ms. Starr!" He cried this as he bolted down the fine carpeted stairs of the prosecution office, his determination taking over the politeness that he normally displayed; especially to people he barely knew. As he ran off, Angel Starr scoffed, twisting her made-up mouth into a scowl. "Men." She spat, and continued on her way.

xxx

"Mr.Edgeworth?" The bellboy called out his employer's name, shuffling into his office as quietly as he could. It was Mr.Edgeworth's first day back from England, and the bellboy was a little more than ecstatic to have him back. Although he had permission to stay at Mr.Edgeworth's office- Which was complete with a bathroom, kitchen, and spare room- he couldn't wait for him to return. It had simply grown too quiet in the office without Mr.Edgeworth shuffling papers and signing letters, along with other important documents. He balanced a silver tray on one hand, one he had shined especially for Mr.Edgeworth's return, who hadn't made so much as a peep since then. However, the bellboy nearly dropped the platter as he walked more into the office, coming across a completely different scene then he had pictured in his mind.

He was slumped over in his seat, head down on the desk. The prosecutor's arms were placed on it as well, folded directly in front of him, helplessly. They reminded the bellboy of folding chairs. Concerned, he placed the silver tray- Which balanced a crème colored tea set- on a nearby table, approaching the prosecutor. "Sir?" he asked again, weakly. Well, this wasn't good. What if he had a heart attack or something? "Are you okay?"

"Go away."

The bellboy took a sharp intake of breath as he stepped back, his eyes growing wide at his employer's harsh words. He nodded once and turned- Something bad must have happened in England. Maybe he had been visiting an ill relative. Mr.Edgeworth never disclosed his reason for going- he was simply too private. The bellboy had just simply thought he was going because it was Christmas- Visiting the family and the likes. Maybe, he had thought, just maybe Miles Edgeworth was more festive than he thought.

"Okay, sir." He answered solemnly, still nodding slowly "I…I left the tea here on the table, sir. Call me if you want anythin--" He stopped short, suddenly interrupted by something- A noise. It was an odd noise, like a dripping hiccup, which caused the bellboy to tense up. Was the tea kettle dripping? No. it was defiantly a noise he recognized, a noise that he was all too guilty of making himself just about four months ago.

Miles Edgeworth was crying.

The bellboy looked back at the young prosecutor, whose shoulders had started to shake slightly, listening to the sniffling that he was trying so hard to quiet. The bellboy felt sorrow aimed, right at the heart. He had, after all, been with Mr.Edgeworth for quite some time now, and never once did he ever think he'd see Mr.Edgeworth- Strong, strong Mr.Edgeworth- cry.

Silent as a cat, the bellboy walked over to his employer, and soon found his hands on his shoulders, causing the prosecutor to gasp, spinning around to face the bellboy, his normally beautiful pale eyes red and slightly puffy. "Didn't I just tell you to go away?" He asked with slight anger in his voice, his British accent muffled by the effect of his tears. The bellboy shook his head to show he was ignoring Edgeworth's request.

And then proceeded to do something even more shocking.

His hands started to move in a circular motion against Mr. Edgeworth's hard back, causing the prosecutor to shudder under his touch. The bellboy sighed as his thumbs massaged the hard-to-reach spaces in-between Mr. Edgeworth's shoulder blades, earning an appreciative moan. "Tell me what's wrong, sir." Said the bellboy kindly as he continued with his massage, which was having an obvious effect on Miles. He complied.

"vonKarma…" This was the only word that the prosecutor said- nay, whispered- and the bellboy thought that he had misunderstood. "Manfred vonKarma?" asked the bellboy, clueless. "Did he go on vacation with you to, Mr.Edgeworth?" Miles shook harder, and the bellboy could have sword he heard laughter.

"He…"- Mr. Edgeworth sniffled- "I hate him." The young bellboy looked at the prosecutor oddly. Mr. Egdeworth, as far as he knew, never said he hated anybody, not even Mr. Phoenix Wright, the defense attorney with the spiky hair that had cost him his record- His perfect record. "Sir…?" The prosecutor sighed again, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. The bellboy automatically reached into the pocket sewn onto the front of his uniform jacket and gave it to the sniffling prosecutor, which Edgeworth took with gratitude

"I'm sorry." He apologized, further confusing the bellboy. "I lied to you. I…I wasn't in England. Rather, I was on trial. For murder." This was what could be described as absolute shock. The bellboy could only stare at his now dry-eyed employer with his jaw practically dropped to his floor, the room spinning. Instead of responding with actual words, the bellboy made an odd squeaking noise at the back of his throat. He tried again. "But…"

"Yes." Edgeworth kept speaking, as if he had not heard the older man. "Yes, I was on trial for a murder I did not commit. Two, actually. And von Karma…He killed the second man, not me." Edgeworth sadly smiled up at the bellboy from his seat as he finished, his eyes glimmering despite all lost hope. "My father was a good man, you know. A very good man."

"Sir…" Edgeworth suddenly gasped as he was pulled into a tight hug, the bellboy's head resting on his shoulder. "Wh…What the hell do you think you're doing?! Let me go!" However, when the bellboy did not budge, the prosecutor sighed helplessly and leaned into the embrace. 'If you're this emotional over the whole thing, how about I just stop lying to you? It'll save me from a broken rib or two." At this, the bellboy nodded, a smile forming onto his lips.

"Y'know," he started, "You're alright, Mr.Edgeworth."

xxx

The sound of the door banging open rang out through the entire prosecutor's parking lot, alerting two police officers that stood on the opposite side of the room, most likely off duty or on their lunch breaks. The bellboy paid them no mind as he rushed for the parking spot of Miles Edgeworth, where he hoped to see a gleaming red sports car waiting for him. Although he had never been inside it, the bellboy knew that this car was Mr.Edgeworth's pride and joy, along with the dog that he so frequently gushed over. That's why it made it so much harder to see the spot empty, causing the bellboy to fall to his knees, the two officers instantly alarmed. Mr.Edgeworth had truly killed himself? No!

It was something he couldn't bring himself to believe. It wasn't denial, but rather that is wasn't possible. Mr.Edgeworth, he knew, was a strong man- especially for the young age of twenty-four. The bellboy, whom was three years older, was still shocked by this. What could have shaken him so badly…?

As the thundering of the police officer's steps neared closer, the bellboy's brown eyes caught the sight of yet another white envelope, this one taped neatly to the chain link fence that separated Parking Lot A , which was prosecution parking only from Parking Lot B, the defense's side. There was a single word imprinted on the envelope, causing the bellboy to smile as he rose to his feet. He walked over to the envelope and ripped it loose, removing the letter inside- It was okay, this time. After all, the letter was addressed to him.

He removed the letter with the police officers standing behind him, unsure of what to do. The bellboy's hands automatically registered to the feel of the paper, and his eyes automatically shot to the upper right-hand corner of the page. Six words started back at him, written in a pre-printed cursive font, reddish in color.

And he knew everything was going to be okay.