Tourniquet
('Triumphant music' I actually finished one!!! WOOT! Well, really hope everyone liked this story and I hate to part with it, but hopefully there will be a sequel coming shortly once I can finish gathering my thoughts.
Disclaimer3: Repeat disclaimers 1 and 2, AND I don't own the rights to the theme song of this story "Tourniquet" by Evanescence.
Anyway, enjoy!)
Chapter 17
Miles sighed and pushed the power button on the remote, turning off the small television that sat up high on the wall directly in front of his bed. This was a very nice hospital, so there were a decent number of channels to choose from; he just didn't feel like watching any of them. He dropped the remote on his bedside table and leaned his head back against the pillow, his bed currently raised so that he was halfway between sitting and lying down. This room was quite comfortable and convenient, but he had been stuck in it far too long and was getting restless.
He proceeded to stare at the ceiling, figuring that he should probably turn on the lights soon. It was beginning to get dark outside and the few objects in the room around him were beginning to lose their color, fading into dark and indistinct shapes against the plain white walls. From the angle at which he lay, he could not see out the window properly; all that was in his view was the corner of the building beside the hospital and a small sliver of the evening sky. He had no idea what the weather was like or what it had been lately; the awning overhead made it difficult to even tell if it was raining.
Miles soon began to drift into his thoughts, unable to forget the events that led to his being cooped up like this in the first place. They had assured him several times that Franziska was doing all right, but something in the back of his mind wouldn't allow him to believe it. He hadn't seen her yet and the mental images left after their struggle placed more doubt in his mind that she would recover so easily. He was afraid for her mental health; she hadn't been doing so well before the incident after all.
His left hand closed tightly around the bar on that side of his bed, the hand that had pulled the trigger. A sick feeling swooped through his stomach, causing him to close his eyes and take in a sharp breath of air. Night after night, he relived that moment, and his mind often tweaked the situation just to mess with him. Many times, it was not Brad Sanders who lay before him, but his own father, bringing back the forbidden memories he had been forced to recount just over a year ago. It was maddening, and since there was no one around to talk to, he was left to dwell constantly within these nightmares without any distraction.
Just then, a disturbance outside the door broke the heavy silence. He could hear voices, but they were muffled and intelligible through the nearly soundproof door. Then, he was aware that someone had grabbed the handle and had pressed it down. They didn't enter immediately, but waited to finish their conversation. He wasn't kept waiting for too much longer, however.
Bright light from the hallway flooded into his room, shattering the near complete darkness. The light was blocked in part by a few silhouettes, but he couldn't tell who had come in until he heard the person in front speak.
"We will now be entering the bat cave," came the low, sarcastic female voice, belonging to Agent Tilea. "Let's have some damn light in here."
Miles reached over to the controls beside his bed to oblige, but she reached the lamp sitting on a long table near the door, switching it on and filling the room with a soft glow. "That's better," she said, turning back to motion the others into the room.
First came Agent Taylor, no longer wearing his sling but still looking very tired. And, to Edgeworth's amazement, Franziska was walking beside him, leaning on his shoulder to stay upright. When he looked at her, she did her best to smile back, but it looked more like a grimace and most likely was one.
"Well," Tilea said, leaning against the wall beside Miles with her arms folded across her chest, "it took us a bit of convincing the doctors, but we got her over here. To be honest, we weren't sure if this was such a great idea at first, but she insisted."
Ares led Franziska to the chair beside Miles and helped her sit down slowly, turning the chair so that she faced him.
"Hey," Miles greeted her softly, doing his best to move closer to her, for she was to his right and leaning in that direction was quite painful for him. She reached forward and took hold of his outstretched hand with both of hers, giving no verbal response.
"Okay then," Ares said, brushing his bangs out of his eyes. "We'll be up at the nurses' station if you need anything. We're staying here until you're ready to leave, Miss von Karma."
"Thank you so much," Miles said with utmost sincerity, Franziska nodding in agreement toward the two agents.
Tilea smiled, startling them both. It was an uncharacteristic look to them. "No trouble," she said, stepping away from the wall. "We're off duty until we've fully recovered, so it's not like we're in any hurry." Without another word, they both exited the room, closing the door behind them and leaving the two prosecutors alone together.
At first, all they could do was stare at each other, neither knowing where to begin. There was so much to say, and not enough words to say it. Each was overjoyed to see the other, but at the same time, apprehensive. Once again, there were mixed feelings, and the silence hung still as they tried to sort these emotions out.
"Miles…" Franziska was the first to speak, still uncertain as to what she wanted to say. "I… You… You didn't have to…"
"Shh," he hushed her gently, reaching up to clear her face of a few strands of hair. He knew what she was about to tell him, and it wasn't true. "Of course I did. Somebody's got to look out for you, although I guess I was a little late on the draw."
"I was… so scared," she said, her head lowered. "I thought… I thought you had been killed… I was sure that it was all over." Tears were drifting down her cheeks now, and it was obvious that she hadn't been doing much besides crying lately judging by how red her eyes were.
As he looked on, mulling over the correct response to this, he felt great pity for her. He couldn't even imagine how terrifying that experience must've been, and there was even a twinge of guilt for not being able to stop it from happening. He made to reach for her again, but was hesitant, unsure of how welcome his touch would be to her. He vividly remembered her reaction to him just a few days prior to her kidnapping, and now the lasting psychological trauma would probably make her even more afraid.
Franziska gave a particularly loud sob, misinterpreting his hesitation. "I know," she choked. "I don't expect you to ever want to touch me again. I feel so… so dirty…" She covered her face in pure shame, turning her upper body so that she no longer faced him.
Miles gaped at her, taken completely by surprise. "Franziska…" He barely knew what to say or do. He had expected her to be very upset, but to feel this way about herself…
Making up his mind, he started readjusting himself so that he could lean to his right. Soon, he was lying on his side, using every ounce of endurance he had left to ignore the sharp, burning pain that shot up his side and into his shoulder and arm. Supporting himself on his right elbow, he reached out to her with his left hand, placing it beneath her chin and turning her face toward him. "Don't ever so much as think anything like that again." His voice was firm, yet full of an intense kindness.
"There is nothing or no one that could ever change the way I feel about you, especially not that sadistic, good-for-nothing, pathetic criminal." The words had just come to him; no thought or consideration had been required.
When she looked at him, she saw nothing but a vicious passion in his dark gray eyes and upon his face. It was almost frightening, but at the same time it filled her with a great sense of joyous relief. She blinked at him a few times, attempting to clear the fog from her vision only to let escape more teardrops. His hand slid from her chin to her cheek and she leaned her head against it, closing her eyes. She only had a moment to notice his warm breath on her wet face before his lips met hers in a soft, gentle kiss. "Come here," she heard him whisper as he moved back again, this time taking a light hold of her arm.
Gripping the metal bar near the head of his bed, Franziska carefully pulled herself from the chair and toward Miles, who still had a hold of her other arm and was nearly lying on his back once more. As soon as she stood up, a sharp pain seared her middle, causing her to hiss and squeeze her eyes shut against it. She almost fell back, but Miles' grip on her arm tightened quickly and kept her upright.
"Come on," he encouraged her. "You've almost got it." He held her up firmly as she placed the hand that had been gripping the bar onto the bed, lifting her right knee carefully to climb up. It hurt so badly that she stopped again, ready to just drop to the floor. Hearing her whimpers, Miles placed his right hand on her side, now supporting her entire upper body. Finally, with a little assistance, he was able to pull her up and she came to rest on him, lying on her stomach with her head on his chest.
"There we go," he said, folding his arms around her shoulders as they both took a minute to catch their breath. What should have been such an easy task had caused them both a great deal of pain and had cost a large amount of energy. Nonetheless, a new element of comfort was added to the already cozy room, the dim lamplight creating an almost romantic atmosphere.
After catching her breath, Franziska moved again, taking hold of both of his shoulders and pulling herself up so that her head now rested on his shoulder and his arms were now wrapped around her middle. They both relaxed finally, Miles placing his chin on the top of her head. "What do you think the doctors will say?" Franziska asked, already knowing what his answer would be.
"Honestly, I don't really care what they think," he replied. "You were obviously feeling well enough to walk all the way over here." He moved one hand up to the back of her neck, proceeding to toy with her hair. "You're doing better than I am at this point."
Franziska looked up at him inquiringly. "Really? How do you figure?"
He gave a short, sarcastic laugh. "You can stand up. They've got me on so many Goddamn drugs that I almost have to check to make sure I still have all my limbs." The joke was a morbid one, but they both smiled.
"You don't look like you're on a lot of medication," Franziska observed, looking closely at what she could see of his face in the dim light. He appeared to be fully alert: his eyes weren't glazed over and his speech was as articulate as it had always been.
"Is that so?" He tightened his embrace and gently kissed her forehead. "Because I sure feel like I'm on Cloud Nine."
She laughed a little and raised her head so that their lips met once more, and this time she was kissing him back. Unfortunately, she couldn't hold herself up for long and had to come to rest once more, a sigh of content escaping her as she allowed her entire body to relax. At last, they found a retreat, a brief reprieve. His immense guilt, her pressing anxiety, their constant pain: it had all melted away in the warmth of their embrace, leaving nothing but the benign.
"Franziska."
"Yes, Miles?" Something about the way he had said her name intrigued her. It had sounded like the German pronunciation, or had she just been hearing things? There was another moment of silence before his voice reached her ears again: soft, clear, and confident.
"Ich liebe dich."
Silence…
Slowly, Franziska lifted her head again, a look of pure shock on her face. Those words… Even though they had been spoken in her native tongue, they sounded so…foreign. Individually, she knew what each one meant, had used it, could define it, but spoken together in such an order… Never in her life had she heard them directed at her, and she couldn't seem to register their meaning.
"W-what?"
Slowly, he slid his hands up her back and kept going until they were on either side of her face. He pushed her hair back so that there was nothing obstructing her vision. All she could see was his visage, bathed in dim florescence.
"Ich liebe dich."
Suddenly, as if upon the flip of a switch, she understood.
Ich liebe dich: I love you. She gazed at him openmouthed, unable to believe that someone thought her worthy of such a phrase. No, not a phrase; a sentence, a complete thought, it stood alone with its own meaning. Suddenly, everything was clear; a difference, there was a distinct and obvious difference between what Miles had done and what Sanders had done. She understood everything now, even those strange emotions she had been feeling that—until now—she had no way of describing.
It was love…
"I… I love you, Miles."
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
"I'm here, Franziska. You're going…to be okay, I promise. Just keep your eyes open. Stay with me, Sis. It's all right… Just, please…"
He couldn't stop the tears from falling. They slid down his cheeks and then left him, landing softly on the towel, which was slowly beginning to turn from white to pink. Seeing that the blood flow wasn't stopping, Miles' crying only worsened, his body now shaking with sobs as he lay down next to her, cradling her fragile body in his arms.
"Franziska! Don't leave me..."
And then it happened: she looked up to peer into his tear-stained face. She blinked very slowly, fighting to stay conscious. "M… Miles…" This time, she wasn't calling for him; she knew he was there with her, holding her life safely in his strong arms.
She glanced down at her wrist, seeing his hand wrapped tightly around the towel that hid the gash. Her entire arm was numb, and that cold numbness was spreading throughout her body. However, as she watched, her blood ceased to dye the white threads. Had it really stopped?
The young Franziska looked once again up into Miles' eyes, the eyes of her savior. She saw there a cautious relief, and something more. She didn't know what it was; she had never seen it before, but something about it filled her with a revitalizing warmth, replacing the freezing numbness of oncoming death. Suddenly, she knew she would be okay; she knew she could survive this terrible night.
Taking in a deep, shuddering breath, Franziska huddled up against Miles, who practically wrapped himself around her. His warm body shielded her from the cold air around them, and they lay still, awaiting the darkness of sleep.
A chill wind blew in from the open window above the study's desk, sending an entire stack of papers askew, fluttering like butterflies all around the two children embracing each other on the floor in the center of the room. The breeze reached all the way to the opposite side, coaxing the door shut of its own accord.
And so they lay, lost in an eternal moment of complete serenity. Miles clutched the young girl tightly so that her spirit could not escape her body in their sleep.
He held her like a lifeline; his only friend in the world…
…His Tourniquet.
I tried to kill my pain
But only brought more
I lay dying
And I'm pouring crimson regret
And betrayal
I'm dying
Praying
Bleeding
And screaming
Am I too lost to be saved?
Am I too lost?
My God
My tourniquet
Return to me, salvation
Do you remember me?
Lost for so long
Will you be on the other side?
Or will you forget me?
I'm dying
Praying
Bleeding
And screaming
Am I too lost to be saved?
Am I too lost?
My God
My tourniquet
Return to me, salvation
I want to die!
My God
My tourniquet
Return to me, salvation
My wounds cry for the grave
My soul cries for deliverance
Will I be denied Christ?
Tourniquet
My suicide
(And that's it folks. Yes, I know the song doesn't fit with this chapter, but it does with the beginning very nicely, and that's the premice for this whole story. So, if you liked this one, keep an eye out for the sequel and please send me your last reviews. Goodbye everyone!)
Phoenix Tilea out...