Quicksand

Chapter 2: The Weight of the Truth

She would definitely be clearing her history and scanning her laptop for malware after this... Franziska von Karma had never once dreamed of visiting such a despicable site, but she had a mission... an investigation she had to force herself to undergo.

She was alarmed at how easy it had been to find. She felt her heart sink knowing that Miles was getting the celebrity treatment this time, meaning that the leak of this film was huge news and everyone that had ever wanted to see such a prestigious man in a less-than-flattering light – or whatever reason they'd have – would be looking for it, thus putting it at the top of the list. She felt horrible for looking this up, but he wouldn't tell her... so she had to find out for herself what secrets the man – who at the time had been her 'little brother' – had been keeping from her for all of these years.

So, she watched with baited breath, and instantly hated what she saw...

oooooooooooooooooooo

As the black screen dissipated, the teenage boy was revealed. Sixteen-year-old Miles Edgeworth knelt with his head bowed and bangs shadowing his eyes. He wore black leather bands that wrapped his forearms all the way from wrist to elbow, black leather leggings that reached his mid-thigh like tall stockings, and a black leather dog collar around his neck... and that was all. It couldn't really be detected in the ten-year-old video, but he'd been trembling.

A figure moved past the camera, momentarily blocking the young man from view until it had left the shot. However, now a man's hand could be seen taking hold of Miles' hair and drawing his head back, so that he was looking up at whomever was standing over him. All that could be heard was the ambiance of the room, but apparently Miles had been spoken to, for he spoke in a quiet, fear-stricken voice.

"...please... get the camera out of here..."

Roughly, the unknown individual pulled Miles' head back even further, getting a slight cry of pain from the teen. He was held there for a moment while he was spoken to – unheard – and then he gave his pained response.

"Y-Yes, Master...! I-I'm sorry...!"

That grip was released, and Miles lowered his head, looking away from the camera. A laugh was heard very close to the device, obviously coming from whomever was holding it. The voice was indeed masked, sounding like a computer-generated male voice.

"Oh, don't mind me. Just do what you normally do and you won't even know I'm here."

Miles looked over toward the camera, glaring in anger at the individual holding it. This didn't last long, however, for he received a harsh slap from the man standing in front of him, causing him to turn his face away and turn his attention from the camera. This seemed to be the last amount of fight the young man had within him, because it was never seen again for the film's duration.

And this was where it began. There was another brief pause, and then the man standing before Miles stepped forward. He appeared to be fully dressed from the small part of him that could be seen from behind, but he had obviously undone the front of his pants. Miles' hair was seized once more, and he was forced to face forward. He looked reluctant and tense, but he was obedient enough to open his mouth and take the other man in. He closed his eyes tightly and gave a small whimper, not appearing to be enjoying this at all. The hand gripping his hair drew him closer, forcing him to take the large organ deeper into his mouth, eliciting a muffling choking sound from the teen.

The start of this act was slow; Miles moved back and forth along the shaft, though the man he was servicing seemed to be making sure he took in as much as possible with each move inward. The teen's breathing was heavy and irregular through his nose as he tried to keep a decent level of oxygen in his lungs even with the obstruction, but he was getting more and more tense while the speed increased.

And then the gentleness was through. The grasp on his hair tightened, and another hand reached down to hold the back of Miles' head, keeping the boy in place as his hips began to move, thrusting hard. Miles instinctively tried to gasp, but it was cut short, strangled. That obstruction to his breathing was now being driven hard into his throat, over and over again so that getting a breath was physically impossible. It was then that the inability to take in air triggered his body's automatic fight-or-flight response: a struggle, and for this, he was punished.

The other man drew back, letting Miles take in a gasp of air, but only one. Fingers dipped beneath the leather collar right at his throat and grabbed onto the item. The poor teen was pushed back and dragged a short distance across the floor, and then thrown back against a nearby couch. During this quick movement, the person operating the camera had a bit of work to do to keep up with the action, thus the picture shook quite a bit and did not maintain steady focus until said movement stopped.

Now, Miles was somewhat sitting against the couch, and his head was forced back at an uncomfortable angle onto one of the seat cushions. The other man straddled him, and the picture zoomed in. Miles' face could no longer be seen, and the main focus was just this violent penetration, though that leather dog collar still remained in the shot. The teen was now pinned and completely unable to turn his head or back away in order to breath as pleasure was extorted from him, accompanied by the sound of his choking gags.

This treatment continued until the unidentified man must've decided that going any longer would suffocate his young pet. As he withdrew, the camera zoomed out to reveal most of the teen while he was allowed to move from such an extremely uncomfortable position and to turn onto his side, coughing and gagging so hard it looked and sounded as if he would be sick.

Miles was only allowed a moment to gasp for air before his 'master' had a hold of him again. The back of the collar was grabbed, causing Miles to give a soft cry as he was led/dragged away from the couch and to a large mahogany work desk, making it apparent that the room this scene was taking place in was probably some type of office or study. The video was once again shaky and unfocused, but Miles could be seen reaching up toward the edge of the desk, as if to climb onto it in obedience. However, the other man was apparently impatient, for Miles was suddenly lifted right up off the floor as if he weighed nothing at all and placed onto the hardwood surface on his hands and knees.

Miles was still panting as everyone was getting readjusted, and the camera operator moved around the desk so that – when all was still again – they were standing behind Miles, leaving nothing to the imagination about the slim and attractive young man being depicted in such humiliation. At this point, that unnaturally deep voice was heard again.

"Hey, mind if I have a little fun with him?"

A pause, an unnatural silence as if all sound in the tape had been cut out to avoid the speaker from being heard. Then, the person holding the camera spoke again.

"I know he's yours, but sharing isn't always so bad, you know... Come on, I won't break your little toy; I just want to help make sure that he won't forget this."

Another audio lapse, and then the ambiance returned, followed by a small whimpered protest from Miles. Near the top of the shot where his shoulders and the back of his head could be seen a bit, one of those rough hands could be seen taking a hold of the collar again, forcing Miles' head down and holding him in place to quell his protests and enforce control and obedience. Also, if one looked, there could be seen an array of scars on the young man's back, signifying some type of recent abuse.

Having apparently received permission and now that Miles was being held in place, the person filming moved closer, zooming the picture out to keep a decent shot as they came to stand right behind him. Now, a new hand was revealed in the slightly-shakier shot, but this one was smaller, more slender, with long red fingernails. It was a feminine hand, identifying the gender of the individual behind the picture, who would not be seen at all. That hand moved shamelessly over the top of one of the leather leggings and then up over pale skin. Miles was visibly tensing at being touched in such a way, and that tension grew as one of those slender fingers neared his entrance.

"You're such a pretty little boy, aren't you...?" cooed the disguised female voice. "I'm a little jealous... I wish I could take you home with me some time, Schatzi." As she said this, the painted nail of her middle finger disappeared, breeching the teen. Miles squirmed and whimpered in response to this unwanted intrusion, and this was where the origin of those scars became known. A loud 'SNAP' cut the air as the end of a whip came down against his back to create a new mark and bring forth a sharp cry, the crop wielded by the man holding him in place. With this reminder, the teen stayed still, though he was still whimpering slightly.

A laugh came from the woman behind the camera as she busied herself with inserting a second finger, just toying with him and listening to his soft sounds of discomfort. She continued this treatment until she'd gotten her fill, and then retracted her hand, but only for a moment.

What made its way into the shot next was a thin, metal pole-like object, most likely a piece of some of the camera equipment that wasn't currently being used. This object was carefully guided into the teen, who in turn gave a cry of pain.

"...n-no... s-stop it..." he begged, only to receive another lash of the whip and have the object pushed in deeper. His breathing was now beginning to sound more like light sobbing, but he had to stay still and as quiet as possible while he was violated. That metal shaft was moved in and out, slowly of course, for it would have been easy to seriously injure him with, and she'd promised not to 'break' him.

"That's it... Be a good boy... Just look at all this attention you're getting, Schatzi... doesn't that feel good...?"

There was no response, for he'd learned his lesson by this point. He simply took the abuse without a fight until finally that object was withdrawn and the woman stepped away, adjusting the camera a bit to hold it steady once more and fix the shot from further back so that the image was about the same, still not revealing much at all of the man standing beside Miles.

"Okay, he's all yours again."

The man she was speaking to moved around the desk to block the right side of the screen as he stood behind the sixteen-year-old. He took hold of Miles hips and pulled him back slightly, causing his knees to no longer rest on the desk. He was lowered down so that he was now bent over the desk, his chest and stomach flat against the wood. The young man didn't once look back, struggle, or protest as this was done, but he was shaking more noticeably than ever.

And there wasn't really anymore waiting. Now that Miles was in position, it only took a moment before the other man entered him. A pained gasp and groan was the response from the teen, and as he was made to take the entire length, the shot was adjusted again to get the best view of this explicit meeting. The man in control stayed still for a moment, just pressing his pet up against the desk and listening to him whimper before beginning to move. The rhythm was relatively slow starting out, but his thrusts forward were sharp jabs, each one getting a pained reaction from the young man.

But when the speed and power increased was when it started to get bad. The teen could be heard sobbing and muttering meek pleas for it to stop. He was ignored, although the woman holding the camera did decide to move momentarily to the side of the desk and zoom in a bit on his face. Miles had his head turned to the side and laying on the desk, his eyes closed and tears leaking from the corners of them. He was a pathetic sight to behold, broken and hurting, nothing like the man anyone now knew.

She once again began to move around behind them, and as she did so, Miles was being turned over onto his back. His legs were lifted up, and he was penetrated again, this time much more violently. The camera stayed focused on this point, filming the older man moving roughly in and out of him, pounding him against the desk, while in the background all that could be heard were – no longer small gasps and whimpers – but cries, escalating in volume the faster or harder the older man thrust. Miles was really pleading now, his sobs becoming heavy and uncontrollable as he just wanted this to be over.

It took a couple more torturous minutes, but finally the older man reached his climax, silently releasing within the teenage boy he had at his mercy, under his complete control. Slowly, he pulled out and stepped back out of the shot, leaving Miles to simply be filmed while he lay there on the desk, crying and trembling. A bit of the white substance dripped from him, along with a small amount of blood, which the woman filming didn't have any problem focusing on for a few seconds. As expected, Miles had not really even neared his own climax, having been in much more pain than pleasure and not enjoying it. So, he just lay there, used and spent, allowing their eyes to probe him and take in their fill of his tormented and broken form.

"And there we have it... We should do this again some time, hm?"

This was where the screen faded to black and all went silent, ending the obscene recording.

oooooooooooooooooooo

Even when the screen had blacked out and the site's normal advertising messages replaced the video, Franziska stared with wide, horrified eyes at the display. What she had just seen... was so much worse than she could have imagined. And now... the world was watching... watching as the man she had always loved was tortured and humiliated by... well... she didn't know whom...

Finally, she found the resolve to close her browser window and then shut the laptop, her motions slow and mechanical. Poor Miles... How could that have been real...? How could he have allowed himself to be subjected to such degrading treatment...? How had the kind and intelligent boy that she had spent many an afternoon with studying or engaging in a contest of knowledge or wits have hurt this way multiple times without the notice of her and her father...?

Franziska could feel tears forming at the back of her eyes and she swallowed hard to try and hold them in. It hurt badly to have seen that... to imagine Miles in such a way... but there were just certain things in the world that you couldn't 'un-see', and that was – unfortunately – one of them.

As upset as she was, Franziska knew what her task was now. She was the closest person to him, and that meant she had to be strong for him, be the one to help him through this... somehow... She swallowed hard again, this time to brace herself, and then stood up, carrying the computer with her as she headed back upstairs.

When she entered the master bedroom, it was to find Miles lying curled up on top of the comforter, silent and still. She moved quietly, placing the laptop back in its original place, and then moved to crawl onto the bed beside him.

"...Miles..." she murmured, kneeling over him and reaching up to comb her fingers through his hair, pulling his bangs away from his face. "...Are you... all right...?" She felt as if this was a very foolish question, but she had to ask it, to display her concern and affection for the older prosecutor, to make sure that he hadn't... passed out or anything drastic like that.

"...no..." It was a simple, one-word answer, but the impact his weak, hoarse, barely-audible voice had on the young woman was devastating. Franziska took in a deep, shuddering breath and moved to lie down beside him, trying to coax him into her arms.

"...Come here, Miles... You don't... have to be up here all alone..." she murmured, watching as he hesitated, and then gave into her, turning over and leaning forward so that she could wrap her arms around him and he could hide his face in the fabric of her dress. His breathing was suddenly deep as he tried to take in her scent, to let it and her warmth comfort him, but he could feel the flood gates straining against the overwhelming weight of what he'd kept bottled up inside for so long.

Secrets... dark secrets and emotional agony were biting and clawing their way to the surface, tearing through the suddenly-fragile defenses he'd been building these past couple of years, and thus the tears began to flow freely.

Miles Edgeworth – strong and resilient knight of truth in the court of law, scourge of crime, proud purveyor of justice and honor – wept in the arms of his young lover, reduced to nothing more than a trembling, sobbing mess, reduced to what – in his mind – he had always truly been: a weak, traumatized, and defenseless child.

But Franziska didn't speak, and she wasn't thinking along these lines at all. Though as children they had always been in competition, and even on into recent years, they had always been so close, even more so now. She could place no blame or fault on him for this, even if – only a year ago – she could have blamed him entirely for something to this affect. Now... he was a victim, a victim that had been strong enough to pick himself up and bury what had just been revealed to her as a more horrific past than she could have ever envisioned. To her, it was a mark of his strength that no one could have ever guessed he'd been hiding something like this, but he needed help now...

So she held him, let him cry, let him soak her dress with tears and wrinkle it as he clutched the fabric in his fist. Her clothing could be cleaned and ironed, but blemishes on the human mind and heart could not be so easily repaired or eliminated. She did all she could to give him comfort, stroking her fingers gently through his dark gray locks of hair, moving her hand up and down his back in a soothing motion, whispering words of love and reassurance in his ear.

Yes, it was like comforting a child, but that wasn't it at all. Even the full-grown and mature needed such security sometimes, and this was certainly one of those times.

She didn't bother to measure the amount of time they lay there together, silent save for Miles' sobs and ragged breathing. However, when it all finally calmed down and he was simply lying still and quiet in her arms, she gave it a try.

"...Miles... who did this to you...? Please... tell me..."

No answer.

"...Miles, please... Who were those people...? Who was hurting you...? Who filmed it...? Who has had it in their possession to release to the public like this...?"

Still no answer. She could tell he was awake, but he was just lying there with his eyes closed, the occasional tremor running through his tired body. He didn't want to answer her, didn't want to dwell on this enough to form an answer...

She was getting frustrated, but she had to be patient. He was hurting and in shock... She was sure he would confide in her... at some point... He just needed to be ready... but she wanted to get something out of him! "Then... can you at least... tell me why you never told us...?" she asked, making one last desperate attempt at understanding. "...I remember that you were... normally quiet, but I simply attributed it to your personality... Miles... even at my young age... you could have confided in me that someone was hurting you... And... and what about Papa...? He could have put a stop to it... Surely, you wouldn't have had to tell him everything... You..."

She trailed off, noticing how incredibly tense he was getting again, his grip on her dress so tight now that she could feel the material hugging her body more closely.

"...Miles...?"

"...Franziska..." It was just a whisper, but he was speaking at last. "...I would never put the weight of that knowledge on a child..." He was silent again, and she was almost sure this was all he was going to say, but as soon as that thought crossed her mind, his voice reached her again.

"...And as for why I never asked your father for help... I can't imagine... you would have to think... too long and hard about that to figure out why..."

She looked at him with wide eyes, blinking in confusion. "...What...? Miles, what do you -"

"...Come on... I know... y-you watched it..." he choked, finally lifting his head to look up at her. The visible state of him shocked her momentarily; she couldn't pinpoint the last time he'd looked so dead. "...After all that time... I'd think you would know him anywhere... even if... you can't see his face... or hear him..."

They say the truth hurts, but in that moment, Franziska learned the undiluted meaning of that phrase. Her world seemed to be raining down upon her, a rain of bricks and knives and fiery acid.

"...Nein... I-it can't be..."

Miles just gave a slow nod, lowering his head in shame and misery.

"...Papa...?"