Tourniquet

Chapter 5

Franziska stared up at the man she had always known as her Little Brother; she didn't even recognize him now. He had lost his fire, his will, and it had completely changed him in a matter of a few hours. It was as if she was looking into the eyes of a stranger, yet she felt like she knew him now better than ever. It didn't make any sense, and not even her famed 'von Karma logic' could decipher this contradiction.

"Is that what you wanted?" he asked. His voice had suddenly become soft and slightly broken up, as if he had driven himself to the brink of tears.

"Miles…" She knew she had to say something to him, but the words were not there. All those times she had called him worthless, and now she found herself searching for a way to make him feel as if his life meant something. And while she looked at him, she noticed how expectant he looked; she couldn't bear the thought of crushing him by just walking away.

"Miles… You… shouldn't say those things." She mentally cursed herself. She had no idea what she was doing or why she was doing it.

He remained silent, just watching her. That couldn't be all she had to say. He needed to hear more; if he didn't, he was afraid he would break down in front of her. This was his last chance.

Franziska took in a deep, shaky breath, trying to gather her thoughts. "You… can't think that way. It will…drive you mad…"

Miles lifted a hand and placed it on the side of her face, turning her head so that he looked directly into her eyes, and as he spoke, he leaned in a bit closer to her. "I think it's a bit too late, don't you?"

"You're not alone, okay! Why else do you think I'd sit here and listen to you wallow in your own fucking self-pity!?" She was on her feet now, her whip in hand. She had instinctively taken it from her waist, feeling as if she was defending herself. "I don't have to give a damn!"

There was another space of time during which neither of them moved, the only sound being Franziska's quick, angry breathing. For that moment, she stood, towering over him, her whip held at the ready, every muscle in her body straining to its limits. Then, the atmosphere changed.

Miles slowly stood, moving past her to stand with his back to the open door, his gaze once more intense. "Show me then," he said, his voice barely audible.

"I don't have to," she replied. "I never say anything that I don't-"

"Prove your words, Franziska von Karma!"

As this sentence was spoken, there arose a moment of panic. Miles Edgeworth had taken a step forward, and Franziska von Karma had raised her whip, closing her eyes. With one powerful thrust of her arm, the unforgiving leather cut the air without mercy. However, there was no closure.

When the German prosecutor opened her eyes again, it was to find something she had thought was impossible. Miles stood only a few feet away from her, perfectly calm with his left hand in the air, the fingers of that hand curled around the other end of her whip. A look of pure horror finally made its way to the surface, and it was all she could do. He had caught it; no one had ever caught it before.

The two of them stood perfectly still for what felt like ages. Then, gradually, Franziska allowed her grip to loosen. Slowly, the whip found its way into his hand, and he took it without hesitation. That familiar snap sliced the silence as he cracked it once, his expression never wavering. Franziska watched him with her arms now hanging down by her sides, suddenly feeling totally helpless.

The transfer of power was complete, and he knew it.

Miles turned around and took a few steps forward, placing his free hand on the door, pushing it closed, and turning the lock. He placed the whip over the doorknob, making sure it stayed put before turning back to face its former handler.

She hadn't moved, and her gaze was now fixed on the floor. However, as he moved steadily toward her, she began to lift her head until he stood right in front of her, their eyes having met. Without looking away from her face, he took hold of one of her hands, bringing it up to chest level.

"There's something I need to know," he told her. "It's right over there." He indicated the whip hanging over the doorknob. "You may stop me at any point you like." After he had finished speaking, he began to lean into her, bending his head down until their lips met. At first, the kiss was light, cautious, and uncertain, but soon, her lips parted, allowing his tongue entry. His hands slowly moved up to grasp the top clasp of her dress and began to undo it.

At this moment, he felt her take hold of both of his wrists, and he lifted his head to look at her, waiting to see what she would do. She was looking down at his hands, her complexion very pale. Something inside of her had told her to push him away, but she didn't know if she really wanted to stop him. She knew exactly what was about to happen and what he wanted from her, and once more, she was torn.

She breathed in sharply and opened her mouth as if to speak, but closed it again. She lowered her head, unable to decide what to do. The thought of what he was about to do frightened her, but at the same time, it excited her. These two emotions were battling each other inside of her, and she knew not which she should be feeling.

'I am a von Karma,' she thought to herself. 'And… a von Karma must never be afraid of anything.' So, if she could not be afraid, that only left her with one choice.

Still uncertain, she began to move her hands upward until they rested on either side of his neck. There was another moment of hesitation, and then she pulled him toward her. They quickly became locked in a passionate kiss as Miles resumed his removal of her clothes.

Within a minute, they both lay upon the sofa in each other's arms, still kissing each other's face and neck. Their clothes lay in two separate piles on the floor nearby, discarded carelessly in this moment of passion.

"Are you ready?" he asked, his breathing heavy as was hers.

"I… I don't know…" Nothing had ever made her this excited in her life, and now she was a little anxious again.

"Close your eyes," he whispered in her ear. "Don't fight it anymore."