[video]

[glassinine]

[The thing about employing text is that when you start using it when all your broadcasts are in video, people tend to question why you've suddenly switched. So he makes the decision to instead compose himself as best as he can and use video instead.

Unfortunately, he always sort of overestimates his ability to compose himself. He certainly doesn't seem distraught, or panicked, or anything of the sort, but he's definitely shaky. This is definitely a far cry from his normal, slow, quiet, lengthy broadcasts.]

I'm leaving on a business trip abroad for...some length of time. I'm - not certain how long. Please don't try to contact me; I'll be far too busy to answer any messages.

Good day.

Comments

[glassinine]

[And this is explained a little more rationally. A bit less haltingly than it has been for others.]

Sir, the ability activates outside of my control. If you were to attempt that, the possibility that it would activate against you is significant. I will not allow it.

[mmiab]

[ oh, that. and here the Doctor sighs, sharp and distant, face a veritable pout as if the concern is vaguely offensive rather than a noble placement of the well-being of others over oneself.

it's enough, in fact, to have him scoff. ]

Please. You're small fry.

[ i don't need a power like that to be infinitely better equipped to destroy myself from the inside out, and I haven't managed it yet.

(perhaps it's a little blase to be so sure of himself in this situation. but the reality is that regardless of how badly Miles' power might effect him, it makes sense for the Doctor to help him in this. it makes sense, and even as he reacts dismissively he's already preparing to lay down in no deniable manner the exact reasons why. ]

[glassinine]

[Edgeworth is completely taken aback by that statement. His gaze snaps back towards the Doctor, and his mouth opens in sheer, stunned disbelief. Then he closes it again, and grits his jaw, and snaps:]

I've said no. That's my answer. Any further discussion is wasting both your time and mine.

[mmiab]

I don't need your sheltering.

[ it's gone. all of it. any edge of compassion or contrary displeasure melts immediately into something stark and hard, some roiling depth behind it oddly reminiscent of magma beneath a crust.

his voice comes in slow to start, low, but it's unyielding, charged, and gathering dangerous momentum as the train of his thought hurtles towards its end of the line. the tone of it, from start to end, dares Edgeworth to interrupt, dares him - you try it, you speak, you just try. ]

You're walking away to protect. Your plan is to remove yourself as far from the path of anyone you might inflict further pain on as possible, quarantine the danger, isolate the cause. Which is fine, good, yes, except there's nowhere on this planet you can go where the chance of human contact is reduced to an 100% impossibility. There is always a chance. Hide in a cave, disappear into a cabin in the forest, climb a mountain and bury your head in the snow. There's nowhere on this earth you can guarantee someone won't stumble on you, and you cannot guarantee you'll be able to stop yourself from bringing their guilt to the surface if they do. Up until two minutes ago that was the best option of a bad lot, and you were taking it because it was the only right thing you could think to do.

[ he doesn't bother to minimise the stresses of guilt. this isn't about the size and scope and weight of what Miles can do, this is about how it sits in him, how he responds to it, and trying to shrink that and base a point around it's size as defined by any other parameters than the man's own relationship with it would be like trying to persuade a man who hates tennis to watch a match with an argument based on the premise that tennis is the best game known to man.

so instead, he takes Miles' repulsion at what it is he can do and accepts it as the foundation. because it is, after all. it's the entire point. ]

I am offering you a solution. I'm offering you the chance to, at very worst and if at all, hurt one man. One man. A man who is incidentally capable beyond your wildest imagining of bearing any damage you might do to him. And for that, in exchange for the potential of that one, voluntary suffering, you will receive the certainty that you will never inflict that pain unwillingly on another again.

And you are turning it down. Why? Because you're afraid.

[ afraid of what you do. afraid of what you've done. terrified to do it again.

there's a pause here, a space for challenge, for tell me I'm wrong-- only he doesn't actually wait long enough to allow for any protest, if there is indeed one forthcoming, because he isn't finished, not quite, not yet. ]

It's your choice. No is your choice, and you've every right to make it. But if you do, don't delude yourself into thinking that you're making it because it's what's best for everyone. If you go, the choice you're making is best for you and you alone.

[ it's important. it's important, for the Doctor, that he knows that.

finally, all the words wrung out of him, his storm recedes back until it's just a silence, just the unflinching challenge of his stare. ]

[glassinine]

[Edgeworth is willful. It might be a bit hard to tell just at the moment, given the way he stumbles over his words, given the way he refuses to look at the Doctor throughout that whole speech. But he is willful, and he's brave in his way; that speech hits hard, but he doesn't flinch from it.

And when it comes to it, he is soft-hearted, kind in his way - but he knows, too, how to use words cruelly. He's not cruel by nature, but...Well, he's cornered, and cornered things fight with all the weapons they have available to him.]

Or maybe I just don't trust you.

[mmiab]

[ it doesn't sting. it doesn't even start to sting, sits uncomfortably perhaps because trust is his most closely wielded tool and without it he's forced to play with much more dangerous resources, things with risk of a dangerous backlash (and better, better for everyone except him, really, but he's a selfish creature at heart)... but barely, barely because he can recognise the intent.

the slight edge of a smile from him, not kind, not yet, but not brutal either. knowing. ]

Wise. Why should you? Also not incredibly relevant. You don't trust yourself with this either and the fact remains, trust me or not, that I'm one of two options.

[glassinine]

And an option I reject.

[He still doesn't look over. He keeps his face averted; it's part discomfort with the simple act of making eye contact, part knowledge that his face is unfortunately easy to read.]

I don't see why I'd allow some egotistical idiot in a bow tie unfettered access to my mind. Do you take me for a fool?

[mmiab]

[ and a laugh, soft and small and accepting of the words coming his way, self-deprecatory in a sense if it weren't for the fact the point raised is perfectly valid.

instead of an answer (yes, no, that depends on the context of the question), the Doctor offers up something else. ]

I'll tell you about it, if you like. My guilt.

[glassinine]

[Edgeworth's response is immediate and harsh.]

I would not like that.

[mmiab]

[ so, of course, in necessarily contrary fashion: ]

As a deposit. I can explain to you exactly why it is that I won't be afraid. Not any more than I usually am.

[ don't think he didn't notice that reaction to his earlier flippancy regarding the topic. he did. he's also giving out little drops of honesty here, just small drops, because it matters. it matters that this end well. ]

On a level to you, if nothing else.

[glassinine]

[But Edgeworth draws himself up and actually looks directly at the Doctor. For once.]

I said no. For God's sake, what would ever make you think that I would want to have more of this piled upon me? After the day I've had? I want no part of your emotions.

[mmiab]

[ ah - immediate: ]

Sorry.

[ meeting that gaze as best he can through the communicator is actually harder than it might have been moments ago. he's miscalculated. the honesty was intended as insurance, reassurance - but without that, without that buffer... and he's once again apologetic, soft in his response. ]

That's what it will take. If you want to keep them safe, that's what it will take.

[glassinine]

[He looks away again. His mouth twists bitterly; he scoffs. He's tired, and spent, and scared, and miserable.]

I'm starting to think that what it will take is going out and drowning myself in the sea. That would be the cleanest solution.

[mmiab]

And temporary, from what I understand.

[ and if the Doctor's failure to leap at the mention of suicidal ideation has anything to say, it's only that Edgeworth's rock and hard place are such that he can understand it entirely. the hidden third option, ultimately the most useless of them all. ]

[glassinine]

So they say. That's not been proven yet.

[He says that quietly, unhappily. At the moment...It nearly does seem like a solution. But, God, with Wright here, and Trucy, and the others, he...couldn't. He couldn't do that to them. But he's just feeling more and more trapped, more and more frightened.]

[mmiab]

[ he lets it sit for a while. just a few drawn seconds to let that hang, process, sink in. contemplating the validity of suicide as a solution to the situation - and it's not a jest. there's no humour in the grim difficulty of the knots Edgeworth's tied himself into.

so, again, with feeling, after moments offered for the settling of thoughts: ] I can help you.

[glassinine]

[But still, no matter his desperation:]

No.

[mmiab]

[ a sigh, deep and resounding if held as best he can manage it under his breath. this shouldn't be so impossible. it shouldn't. ]

You're willing to consider dying, but not trying this?

[glassinine]

[And this is what it comes down to:]

I've already hurt enough people, sir. It stops here. I'm not hurting anyone else. Not even the willing.

[mmiab]

Don't mistake fear for righteousness. It won't fix anything.

[ he doesn't mean to be cruel. it's a plea more than anything, now, because he can understand why it is that Edgeworth is doing what he's doing. but it isn't good. not for anyone. and certainly not for him, the man himself, the man so full up with this that it will break him almost certainly, sometime sooner or later. if something isn't done. ]

However much it hurts now, that won't go away. Guilt doesn't go away. Fear doesn't, not unless you fight it. The people here need you. You need them. Let me help.

[glassinine]

[He doesn't look at him.]

I'm sorry. No.

[mmiab]

[ a suck of air in through grit teeth. he isn't going to win this, is he? he can't, the stubbornness, that impossible stubbornness he's so admired in those who possess it is set firmly against him now and there's no way, he knows that in the time he has there's no hope. not with the communicator as his only means of talking him, not when he can't offer any modicum of proof, of reassurance. ]

The second. The second you change your mind, even think about changing it, you contact me. Do you hear me? You contact me.

[glassinine]

[A surrender? Edgeworth doesn't find any satisfaction in the victory. The only thing keeping him going is sheer determination; when that's not needed anymore, when the fight is won, exhaustion claims him once again. He closes his eyes. His voice is tired.]

Understood.

[mmiab]

I'm not giving up on you. But if you need to go, if you need to get away, I can't stop you.

[ he knows that. he's no fool - and he's taking no pleasure in watching the beginnings of the decline. ]

I'll get there. Doesn't matter when, doesn't matter where. [ if you allow me, the second you allow me, I will prove to you there is hope. ]

[glassinine]

Duly noted.

[He says that quietly, sadly. Then he hangs up.]