Attack of the Fangirlian Brainworms (![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} pyrafanfic) wrote,@ 2009-01-27 00:03:00 |
 |
|||
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Stay The Course (Diego/Mia, R)
Title: Stay The Course
Fandom: Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney
Completion date: January 19th, 2009
Rating: R
Wordcount: 1350
Pairing: Diego/Mia plus BFF Lana.
Prompt: I would like to see a fic where a female character gets pregnant unexpectedly, is definitely not mentally or financially ready to have the baby, and so makes the decision to abort it. She gets through it fine thanks to the support of friends and/or family.
They could catch up. That was Lana's first thought upon hearing Mia's voice, and she sat to tangle her fingers thoroughly into the phone cord.
It only took a quiver in Mia's voice -- something strange and frightened and wrong -- and a question about it. And then, it was small luck that Lana was sitting.
How did women like them find themselves with child, she wondered. How, in this day and age full of choices, did people still end up making the same one, the most painful one?
"You could put it up for adoption," Lana said. She laid fingers on Mia's hand, which was wound grateful into her own.
A hitch in Mia's breath, and she shook her head.
"Not with my family. I haven't told you about my family, have I?"
"Just your sister."
How was this any different from looking into Ema's eyes, and knowing that someone would need to stand strong for her? Lana asked herself if she could have given that up, turned over her own blood kin to a stranger. Her self had no answer. Her self had never really needed to choose, not in such a wide sea of grey. And Mia wasn't choosing to give up Maya; she was wiping another slate entirely.
Mia sank, then, watching their mingled knuckles. "We Feys have ... problems."
Lana hummed, before realizing how vague the term was, how polite. Problems in their minds? Bodies? In the warm threads that made a family?
"I can't bring anyone into the world. Not now." Her grip tightened; her voice shook. "I'm not a real lawyer yet, Lana, I just can't. I could send a child halfway around the world and our legacy would find her."
"If that's what you think is best. " Lana shook inside. That simple pronoun, that one her made it all so queasy and real. "Do you want me to make the appointment ...?"
"No, I can do it."
"Are you going to tell--"
"No. He doesn't need to be there." She tried to smile. "This is for all of our sakes."
Here was Mia's strength, and no rain or storm could drown it. This was the courage Lana had always wished she could learn.
"I'll help you, Mia," Lana's mouth said and her heart agreed, "Whatever you need, just tell me."
"I know." Tighter winding of their hands, and Mia managed her smile, thin and tired. "That's why I called."
Lana gripped the steering wheel tight, on appointment morning, tight enough to calm her shaking. She asked Mia each time if she was ready; Mia said yes; that was all they needed to talk about.
All she could think, sitting in the waiting room and watching the white paint, was that Mia would do all of this for her, too.
A chill wind followed them into Mia's apartment, a heaviness like worry. If Lana hadn't known, the appointment could have been ordinary, a booster needle, a less troublesome pill. But Mia straightened suddenly, in the middle of her tiny foyer, and took a significant breath.
"This is for the best."
It was right, somehow, to speak aloud. Lana pulled Mia close and held her, like each one's shaking would negate the other's, like courage could be enough.
"Do you need anything ...?" Lana's voice was as small as she was.
"Just to lie down. They said it'll get worse in the next few hours ..."
The beginning of the end. Lana laced Mia's fingers with hers.
The television offered bad movies, and the pillows piled their comfort, and the bulging hot water bottle was wrenchingly ironic on her belly, under the covers. Mia gulped water and pills. She took Lana's hand again, and breathed out, slow. She had just begun a sentence with the Fey clan when the doorbell rang, a far-off itch.
"I'll get it," Lana said, and rose, and paused in the doorway to ask, "Are you home right now...?"
Mia stared at her folded hands for a moment, maybe thinking, maybe summoning the courage to face the world.
"I'm in the middle of something," she decided.
Good, Lana didn't say. Good.
She took gratuitous moments getting to the door, watching the first cold raindrops batter against the windows. Whoever it was didn't have the sense to leave, it seemed. She finally opened the door, and Diego Armando stared back at her; Lana fiercely regretted not looking out the peephole first.
"Mia's here," he blurted, "Isn't she?"
Lana's mouth twitched. She slammed the door. It was simply poor judgement for Diego to place his foot in the way.
"Sonnuva--" His fingers curled around the door, determined claws. "She took the day off, she never takes the day off! If she's--"
"Mr. Armando. She needs rest right now, not--"
"I brought chocolate."
A crackling paper bag pressed through the gap.
"Hot chocolate. Her favourite brand. Please?"
How ridiculous was all of this, poor decisions and bad luck and a man breaking his foot to deliver a drink. But he was here, murmured Lana's heart. He came. Didn't that mean something?
Diego sat at the kitchen table like Lana politely suggested. He was a quiet spectre while she dragged a spoon in circles inside the pot, except when he hissed, easing his shoe off.
"I suppose I was hasty," Lana apologized. Milk foam swirled into the chocolate depths.
"No matter how quickly the water boils, it makes the same bitter brew." His voice dragged tired; he paused like mopping a palm across his face. "She doesn't want to see me, does she?"
Lana pressed her lips. The rumble of simmering milk faded and answers hung in the air.
"She's ... had a lot of decisions to make, Diego. Are you going to give her more of them?"
"No."
Low, and wretched, and sharp enough to make Lana look to him. Diego stood, shadows twisting his mouth, fingers clawing backward through his hair.
"No, it might be her decision, but any man knows when something's his fault. There's no running away from that. It's my duty to support her, no matter what she needs supporting in, and if I've hurt Mia--"
He stood there, eyes deep and wild, like Lana blocking the doorway took a moment to comprehend. And just like that, the look was gone, all sullen glare aimed at the wall.
"I don't want to tell this to you ... Just to her. No offense, kitten."
He said the word like pure business. Lana smiled grim anyway. She raised the two steaming mugs, and gave one to Diego, and pressed his hand sure around the second, around Mia's favourite glosssy mug.
"Then go tell her."
She picked up her own hot chocolate, and held the warm-glowing mug as she watched the rain. It wasn't movie rain, driving hard like a metaphor. It was ordinary rain, driving and lulling, changing its mind like everyone did. Well, that wasn't true. There weren't old choices to change, only new choices to make.
Lana's drink sat lukewarm and had no answers, so she went to Mia's room on silent feet. Television light flashed into the dark hallway. She looked in at the two of them -- Diego perched on the bed's edge, knees too gangly to fit, Mia with a sheen of sweat under her bangs. They were calm in the silver light and they looked to Lana, suddenly.
"Forgive me. I didn't mean to interrupt." Small, murmured words that stung too much.
"I was wondering where you were," Mia said, and smiled. She had gotten better at it, here with her pain and her boyfriend's sure quiet. Mia set her mug aside -- light and empty, from the looks of it -- and tapped the duvet. "Come on, Lana, this side's for you."
What a simple offer to make. Lana hurt inside, wonderfully, and went to that place. There was enough space to put both legs up, ankles crossed, and watch this old movie with her arm against Mia's.
"Need a refill?" Diego shifted eager, so it tremored in the mattress. "Back rub?"
"I"ll be fine." Mia slumped deeper against the pillows, and let out a sigh before breathing, "Thank you. Both of you."
The movie chattered on, and another one followed it. Mia took another dose, and accepted a back rub, and kept her fingers very firmly laced with Lana's.
They could catch up later. Right now, Lana knew everything she needed to.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I'm viciously pro-choice, and was pondering this prompt. Then wank broke out. On the PW Kinkmeme,kink has YOU it's encouraged to do a turnabout on wank by filling the prompt. So I commentboxed this in the wee hours of the morning. The fills for this prompt were all moving, which is great because I agree with the OP: abortion could use more exploration in fiction, without it being painted as purely right or wrong.
I'm also pleased at this instance of Diego and Lana interacting in a canon-esque setting. For completely un-PWDR-related reasons, hee.
Title: Stay The Course
Fandom: Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney
Completion date: January 19th, 2009
Rating: R
Wordcount: 1350
Pairing: Diego/Mia plus BFF Lana.
Prompt: I would like to see a fic where a female character gets pregnant unexpectedly, is definitely not mentally or financially ready to have the baby, and so makes the decision to abort it. She gets through it fine thanks to the support of friends and/or family.
They could catch up. That was Lana's first thought upon hearing Mia's voice, and she sat to tangle her fingers thoroughly into the phone cord.
It only took a quiver in Mia's voice -- something strange and frightened and wrong -- and a question about it. And then, it was small luck that Lana was sitting.
How did women like them find themselves with child, she wondered. How, in this day and age full of choices, did people still end up making the same one, the most painful one?
"You could put it up for adoption," Lana said. She laid fingers on Mia's hand, which was wound grateful into her own.
A hitch in Mia's breath, and she shook her head.
"Not with my family. I haven't told you about my family, have I?"
"Just your sister."
How was this any different from looking into Ema's eyes, and knowing that someone would need to stand strong for her? Lana asked herself if she could have given that up, turned over her own blood kin to a stranger. Her self had no answer. Her self had never really needed to choose, not in such a wide sea of grey. And Mia wasn't choosing to give up Maya; she was wiping another slate entirely.
Mia sank, then, watching their mingled knuckles. "We Feys have ... problems."
Lana hummed, before realizing how vague the term was, how polite. Problems in their minds? Bodies? In the warm threads that made a family?
"I can't bring anyone into the world. Not now." Her grip tightened; her voice shook. "I'm not a real lawyer yet, Lana, I just can't. I could send a child halfway around the world and our legacy would find her."
"If that's what you think is best. " Lana shook inside. That simple pronoun, that one her made it all so queasy and real. "Do you want me to make the appointment ...?"
"No, I can do it."
"Are you going to tell--"
"No. He doesn't need to be there." She tried to smile. "This is for all of our sakes."
Here was Mia's strength, and no rain or storm could drown it. This was the courage Lana had always wished she could learn.
"I'll help you, Mia," Lana's mouth said and her heart agreed, "Whatever you need, just tell me."
"I know." Tighter winding of their hands, and Mia managed her smile, thin and tired. "That's why I called."
Lana gripped the steering wheel tight, on appointment morning, tight enough to calm her shaking. She asked Mia each time if she was ready; Mia said yes; that was all they needed to talk about.
All she could think, sitting in the waiting room and watching the white paint, was that Mia would do all of this for her, too.
A chill wind followed them into Mia's apartment, a heaviness like worry. If Lana hadn't known, the appointment could have been ordinary, a booster needle, a less troublesome pill. But Mia straightened suddenly, in the middle of her tiny foyer, and took a significant breath.
"This is for the best."
It was right, somehow, to speak aloud. Lana pulled Mia close and held her, like each one's shaking would negate the other's, like courage could be enough.
"Do you need anything ...?" Lana's voice was as small as she was.
"Just to lie down. They said it'll get worse in the next few hours ..."
The beginning of the end. Lana laced Mia's fingers with hers.
The television offered bad movies, and the pillows piled their comfort, and the bulging hot water bottle was wrenchingly ironic on her belly, under the covers. Mia gulped water and pills. She took Lana's hand again, and breathed out, slow. She had just begun a sentence with the Fey clan when the doorbell rang, a far-off itch.
"I'll get it," Lana said, and rose, and paused in the doorway to ask, "Are you home right now...?"
Mia stared at her folded hands for a moment, maybe thinking, maybe summoning the courage to face the world.
"I'm in the middle of something," she decided.
Good, Lana didn't say. Good.
She took gratuitous moments getting to the door, watching the first cold raindrops batter against the windows. Whoever it was didn't have the sense to leave, it seemed. She finally opened the door, and Diego Armando stared back at her; Lana fiercely regretted not looking out the peephole first.
"Mia's here," he blurted, "Isn't she?"
Lana's mouth twitched. She slammed the door. It was simply poor judgement for Diego to place his foot in the way.
"Sonnuva--" His fingers curled around the door, determined claws. "She took the day off, she never takes the day off! If she's--"
"Mr. Armando. She needs rest right now, not--"
"I brought chocolate."
A crackling paper bag pressed through the gap.
"Hot chocolate. Her favourite brand. Please?"
How ridiculous was all of this, poor decisions and bad luck and a man breaking his foot to deliver a drink. But he was here, murmured Lana's heart. He came. Didn't that mean something?
Diego sat at the kitchen table like Lana politely suggested. He was a quiet spectre while she dragged a spoon in circles inside the pot, except when he hissed, easing his shoe off.
"I suppose I was hasty," Lana apologized. Milk foam swirled into the chocolate depths.
"No matter how quickly the water boils, it makes the same bitter brew." His voice dragged tired; he paused like mopping a palm across his face. "She doesn't want to see me, does she?"
Lana pressed her lips. The rumble of simmering milk faded and answers hung in the air.
"She's ... had a lot of decisions to make, Diego. Are you going to give her more of them?"
"No."
Low, and wretched, and sharp enough to make Lana look to him. Diego stood, shadows twisting his mouth, fingers clawing backward through his hair.
"No, it might be her decision, but any man knows when something's his fault. There's no running away from that. It's my duty to support her, no matter what she needs supporting in, and if I've hurt Mia--"
He stood there, eyes deep and wild, like Lana blocking the doorway took a moment to comprehend. And just like that, the look was gone, all sullen glare aimed at the wall.
"I don't want to tell this to you ... Just to her. No offense, kitten."
He said the word like pure business. Lana smiled grim anyway. She raised the two steaming mugs, and gave one to Diego, and pressed his hand sure around the second, around Mia's favourite glosssy mug.
"Then go tell her."
She picked up her own hot chocolate, and held the warm-glowing mug as she watched the rain. It wasn't movie rain, driving hard like a metaphor. It was ordinary rain, driving and lulling, changing its mind like everyone did. Well, that wasn't true. There weren't old choices to change, only new choices to make.
Lana's drink sat lukewarm and had no answers, so she went to Mia's room on silent feet. Television light flashed into the dark hallway. She looked in at the two of them -- Diego perched on the bed's edge, knees too gangly to fit, Mia with a sheen of sweat under her bangs. They were calm in the silver light and they looked to Lana, suddenly.
"Forgive me. I didn't mean to interrupt." Small, murmured words that stung too much.
"I was wondering where you were," Mia said, and smiled. She had gotten better at it, here with her pain and her boyfriend's sure quiet. Mia set her mug aside -- light and empty, from the looks of it -- and tapped the duvet. "Come on, Lana, this side's for you."
What a simple offer to make. Lana hurt inside, wonderfully, and went to that place. There was enough space to put both legs up, ankles crossed, and watch this old movie with her arm against Mia's.
"Need a refill?" Diego shifted eager, so it tremored in the mattress. "Back rub?"
"I"ll be fine." Mia slumped deeper against the pillows, and let out a sigh before breathing, "Thank you. Both of you."
The movie chattered on, and another one followed it. Mia took another dose, and accepted a back rub, and kept her fingers very firmly laced with Lana's.
They could catch up later. Right now, Lana knew everything she needed to.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I'm viciously pro-choice, and was pondering this prompt. Then wank broke out. On the PW Kinkmeme,
I'm also pleased at this instance of Diego and Lana interacting in a canon-esque setting. For completely un-PWDR-related reasons, hee.