The following stories are rated pg13 due to me being a private dick and you can't have a job like this without some pg13 things happening to you. Be happy I don't go into all the nasty little details.

It was a cold night and I had one too many drinks to keep warm. I was feeling looser than a drunken teen at a frat party and apparently so was she. Her name was Madeline. She had the legs of an exotic dancer, the breasts of a playboy bunny, and the clothes of a French whore. She said she was looking for a good time, so I took her home to play.
That morning I woke up with the usual throbbing headache and groggy haze. I didn’t realize I still had company until I was performing my morning restroom ritual and saw her reflection in the mirror. The bright smile on her face sent a chill down my spine.
“Good morning sunshine!” The pitch of her voice had risen with the sun and it made the hair in my ears vibrate. My first instinct was to run and hide, but I still had unfinished business to take care of.
“Do you mind?” My voice was hoarse and I was fairly certain I didn’t want to know why.
“You want breakfast?” Her crisp green eyes flashed under the rim of my fedora and her sleek naked body was wrapped tightly in my trench coat, so how could I say no?
“Yeah, alright.” I turned back to what I was doing.
When I came into the kitchen the table was covered in various breakfast foods. There was no way she could have made that much during the short time allotted to her, and at first I suspected she had just ordered out, but I didn’t see any trays or take-out bags. When I noticed that the kitchen was hotter than usual I realized she must have been up all night cooking for me. No matter how flattering the gesture was I still couldn’t shake the overwhelming sense of creepiness. She watched me expectantly, ready to memorize the dish I picked first as my favorite. As she stared at me I suddenly remembered something that direly required my immediate attention. I had to go out and buy a new coat and hat. I excused myself and rushed out. I don’t know why I didn’t expect her to be there when I got back.
"You're home!" Her voice tore through my ears like a sour note from a bagpipe. She had a fresh bottle of scotch in one hand and my thumping heart in the other. My trench coat hung seductively along her soft cream skin, the collar barely covering her breasts and the belt tied around her waist like a string wrapping a paper brown package containing one of my favorite things. Her hair curled around her bright white smile in golden ringlets and the hand of god himself couldn't pull my eyes away from hers. A girl this beautiful this interested in me could only mean one thing; trouble, and it came barreling through my door.
He was by no means a small man. His monstrous hulking frame shadowed over me like a giant redwood. The tip of his rifle glinted briefly in the sunlight, and judging by the way Madeline didn't cover her shame when he burst in, I was a dead man.
"So you're the one who took my girl." His voice was like listening to a sack of gravel being smashed against the street, and I had a feeling his fist would feel similar against my jaw.
"Look, Mister, I don't want any trouble." I put up my hands to show him I was unarmed. Unfortunately Madeline latched herself to my chest at the same moment so it looked like something else entirely.
"You don't control me anymore!" She screamed in front my ear, which prevented me from hearing his rifle cock beside him. "Jake's going to take care of me now!" My name wasn't Jake, but correcting her right now was a worse idea than keying the car of an NFL linebacker, spitting on his wife, and shooting his kids in the neck with a blow dart.
"You get your damn hands off her!" He demanded of me. I would have obliged if I had actually been touching her in the first place. She decided this would be a great time to nibble my earlobe.
"Madeline! You're coming home right now!" His rifle was pointed between my eyes.
"NO!" She screamed and put herself in front of me. "AND YOU CAN'T MAKE ME!"
"I'm going to count to three and if you don't step out of the way-"
"I LOVE HIM, DADDY!" That explained the rifle.
"YOU'RE FOURTEEN! YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT LOVE IS YET!" And that explained why my face had gotten so pale.
"FOURTEEN?!" My voice was about as smooth as a bees landing if a fat German man shook him up in a jar while being chased by a Siberian tiger with only one ear through the Gobi desert as mana rained from the sky.
"DON'T HURT HIM, DADDY, PLEASE! I'LL GO HOME WITH YOU! JUST DON'T HURT HIM." Seems my scream went unheard by crazy ears. She waited a minute and slapped me in the face. "YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO TELL ME TO NOT SACRIFICE MYSELF FOR OUR LOVE AND FIGHT HIM FOR MY HONOR!"
"Sir, you can have her." I said as I picked up the pieces of my shattered calm.
"WHAT?!" She huffed. "FINE THEN! I HATE YOU!" With that she left my sight and my life, the father, however, lingered just long enough to make one last threat.
"If you so much as touch my daughter again I'll ram this gun up your-"
"Yes, I understand." I felt braver since he used the gun to illustrate his point making it no longer point at me. I pushed him out my door and closed it. I took a breath for myself and happened to glance at my calendar in time to see the date. February 14th. "Well happy frikin Valentines day to me then." I muttered and opened a bottle of scotch.


My photos were the favorite to be developed at the one hour HotFotos on the corner of 5th and broad. This was probably because my pictures were the closest thing to excitement they got around that rundown little place. I gave my best smile to the blushing man that slid my envelope across the counter. This batch was of a man cheating on his wife and I had managed to catch every dirty detail on my roll. I hated people willing to destroy the ones who loved them for some cheap tail. Well maybe not cheap in this case. The man of the hour was absurdly rich so any woman wanting to be with him was likely after that alone. I even suspected that of his wife who came in tearlessly with five hundred dollars and a grudge.
It was now down to the part of my job that I really hated. I walked across the street to where I always set up to meet my clients. A crummy little dive called The Four Aces. Time had killed most of the lights on the sign making it read T e F Ac s, but I didn't mind. If anything it helped when giving directions.
"Hey there, Blake!" The barkeep greeted me a bit gruffly, but he was a big fellow so he couldn't really help it.
"Hey." I never could remember the guy's name. It was something that made me think of mountains when I heard it, but I could never get it to stick. "Get me a bottle of scotch, would ya?"
"This going on your tab, buddy?" He asked as he got the bottle for me.
"I should be paying that off tonight, actually." I told him and on cue my paycheck walked through the door.
She was like a glass of champagne, tall, thin, bubbly and blond. All the standard attributes of a professional trophy wife. She'd even used her charms on me when we first met, but I know the difference between beauty and plastic.
"Hello, Mr. Barker." She had resorted to calling me since her attempts at using my first name didn't get the results she wanted. I didn't say a word to her, just cooly slid the envelope down the bar. She took it nervously and opened it up. Then sifted through the pictures. I swear I thought I saw her smile before she turned on the shock. "Is this? Is this really true?" She felt she had to put on a show for me, or maybe she was just practicing for court. I was just ready for this to be over.
"My money, miss Holloway." I said stiffly. She frowned and gave me five crisp one hundred dollar bills. "Pleasure doing business with you." I counted through them with my fingers as she left. Then I just handed the bills over to the barkeep. "That should cover things." I told him and grabbed the bottle he'd set out for me.
I had the thing cracked open before I even got home.

You can currently see Blake in the Apollo Justice RP.

---

Last edited by SerenityBlue on Wed Dec 19, 2007 1:47 am, edited 3 times in total.

These are stories from some very old chapters in my life. Before I really knew who I was. Caution: Things might get emo.

It was that perfume. An odd cross of lavender and desperation. It drifted into my nostrils and went straight to my alcohol addled brain. I had to speak with her. I needed her to know I was there, but when I went to say hello she looked right through me. Just like all the other women at the party. I could have been in my room watching tv or reading manga. Even studying would have been more fun than this. But no, I needed contact. I just had to touch someone. To talk with them. To feel like my existence was meaningful to at least one person tonight. Perhaps it was just the beer seeping through my brain cells making these urges stronger than I could handle. Whatever it was, when I heard the lavender girl scream I did something very stupid. I looked.
"Ugh! Stop, Brad!" The girl hit a rather large man in the chest and turned to run away, but she was soon caught by the wrist and pulled back. He muttered something to her that I couldn't hear, but it seemed to upset her a great deal. When I saw her grass green eyes well up with tears I just couldn't hold back any longer.
"Hey!" I stormed up to him as best I could. My balance was a little off thanks to the beer, and I'm sure it wasn't helping me look intimidating either. "She said no."
"Stay outta this." He growled at me and pushed me back. It was a miracle that I didn't fall on my ass. This was about when I did the next stupid thing of the night. I pushed him back. I should have been worried when he didn't even step back from it, but at that moment I was fearless. A little too much so.
I don't really recall much after that, though I did wake up that morning stuffed in a dumpster with two broken ribs and a disconnected jaw.
That was the last party I ever went to in med school.


WARNING: T&T final trial spoiler!
It was such a bad habit. I'd wander the halls of the clinic like a ghost in the middle of the night looking into peoples rooms, talking with the ones that were still awake, and checking the charts of the ones that were asleep. I was just a surgeon. I had no reason to check on or speak with anyone that wasn't about to be laying on my table in a few hours. Despite this logic, that was drifting through my head even at that particular time, I reached out with a quivering hand (ironically the only time they didn't shake was when I was working) to take some sleeping man's chart. I was a bit stunned at the name I read at the top. Phoenix Wright. I've always been a bit of a trial junkie so having him laying there was almost like having a celebrity staying in my house. I was even trying to start a cool nickname for him, but since not many people liked to watch court trials it wasn't really catching on. I had just finished reading that he was being kept in for a severe cold when noise slipped from his lips.
"Ergh." It was a soft sound, but enough to make me jump out of my skin.
"Prosecution killer! Er...I mean...Mr. Wright..." I had always wondered why in cartoons when they swallowed you could hear it. This was probably because until that very moment I had never swallowed so hard that it was audible. It was almost like my throat was having a fierce battle to keep my excitement in check. Unfortunatly all the swallow did was force the fight into the pit of my stomach. "Um...h-how are you feeling?" My attempt at sounding more professional was totally for naught. However, it didn't seem to matter since he was only muttering one word several times over. It wasn't until about the third round that I understood what he was saying.
"Maya."
"Oh, you mean your assistant?" I couldn't keep myself from smiling.
"Is she? Is she okay?" His voice was getting a little bit clearer, however the fog in his mind didn't seem to be. He'd opened his eyes now to look at me at least, but they were distant and glazed. Nothing like the way I was used to seeing them in court.
"Well I don't know, Mr. Wright." I tried to slip his chart into the holder on the end of his bed, but I wasn't looking and it clanked to the floor. I bent down to pick it up and when I fumblingly managed to get it back in Mr. Wright was pushing himself onto his feet. "S-sir, I don't think you should be-" I almost didn't catch him before he fell to the floor. Well I didn't really catch him so much as get my arms around his chest and slow his decent onto the cold tile. It took some time to get him back onto the bed at all, and his persistence in trying to walk away wasn't helping me any. "Mr. Wright, please. You have to stay in bed."
"I have to get across the bridge. I have to help Maya."
"S-sir, please. There's no bridge here, Mr. Wright. You're in the hospital." It seemed that was enough to break a little of his haze. That or his legs gave out and forced him to sit down.
"Hospital?" He repeated after me. When his eyes rolled towards my face I could tell he was just now starting to see me there. Until that point his expression had been little more than half asleep, but now a sense of urgency had overwhelmed it. "Where is she? Is she okay?!"
"She...I don't think she's here, sir. I-I'm pretty sure it's just you." My tone had gotten its own lilt of urgency to it, but for an altogether different reason than his. "Sir, please! Please stop trying to get up!" I pleaded and pushed him down a little harder than I had meant to. He lost his balance and almost fell short of landing on the bed. "Mr. Wright you're very sick." I was trying to sound doctorly and commanding, but the shake in my throat pretty much obliterated that. His lips pursed together in much the same fashion as the children that I often spoke with before removing their tonsils. As sort of a reflex I started speaking to him like I would one of them. "You need to lay down and rest or else you're never going to get better." I always hated when I did that. I sounded too much like my mother. I even had my fists sitting on my hips like she used to do. I forced them down to my sides and tried to regather the rest of my shattered manliness with my next words. "Sir, if I have to I'll get a nurse and she'll give you a sedative." Of course it didn't really come out the way I had wanted.
"Am I really that pathetic?" He asked me with such honesty that I stammered over my quick response.
"N-no! Of course not, Mr. Wright! Y-you you're...uh."
"I am, aren't I?" He fell back onto the bed in defeat. "I couldn't even cross a burning bridge."
"B-burning?! It was on fire?!" It was then my turn to sit down, but the bed I sat on was currently occupied so I had to stand back up again. I was starting to piece together what had happened. His assistant Maya Fey had been in danger. A danger that was on the other side of a bridge. A bridge that had been set on fire to keep him from crossing. So then why was he here for a cold instead of burn wounds? Maybe he was just hallucinating the whole thing.
"High fevers can make you do that." I said aloud for no reason other than habit. This left Mr. Wright just a touch confused. "Er, make you see things I mean. Are you sure you crossed a burning bridge?"
"Yes. I'm pretty sure it was on fire." Mr. Wright said somewhat crossly just before a fit of coughing hit him. I politely waited for him to finish before I replied. However the man who entered the room did not.
"What's this I hear about you trying to kill yourself, Wright?" I recognized his maroon suit and frilly cravat immediately.
"You're prosecutor Miles Edgeworth!" I blurted and immediately wanted to slap myself in the face.
"Are you Wright's doctor?" He asked me tartly.
"Um...well I'm A doctor, s-sir." I couldn't look the man in the eyes.
"Are you administering some sort of medication to him?" I wasn't looking at his face, but I'd seen him in court enough times to know he was looking down at me coldly with his arms crossed.
"Uh...well...n-no, not really..." I stammered and slid my foot back and forth along the floor.
"Then why are you here?"
"Well I was-" I looked up at him in an attempt at showing strength, but all I succeeded at was freezing mid sentence.
"Just leaving?" He finished for me.
"Y-yes, sir." I rushed out.
A thousand good responses rushed into my head once I was down the hall a ways. I almost turned around to give him a piece of my mind, but decided that my time would be better spent at the vending machines getting a cherry pop to cork my mouth up with.


I've never really been the cool guy. As a kid I was the one that sat alone at lunch doing homework, was always picked as the lab partner because I would get them an easy A, and only managed to not get stuffed into a locker everyday because I knew how to be invisible. When I graduated and got into one of the highest ranking medical schools in the country I had honestly thought that would change. I was very much wrong. Even now, as a surgeon, I've never really been able to shed this air of nervous dork that follows me wherever I go.
You could imagine my surprise when the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen asked me out on a date.

I was sitting alone with a sandwich, a manga, and a japanese to english dictionary. Each time I'd find a kanji I would scribble the meaning under the speech balloon, then construct a proper english sentence and write it in with sharpie. Sometimes this was more fun than actually reading it when I was done. I had just stuffed another mouthful of peanut butter and strawberry jam on white into my mouth when she sat down across from me. My eyes rolled up to her and I had a hard time swallowing. She was an angel. Her hair slipped down the sides of her sweet round face in soft red whisps like smoke curling around an apple and her emerald eyes glistened even behind pair of plastic red glasses. I had to cough a few times and chug some milk before I could respond to what she said.
"W-what?" I said as I used the back of my hand to clean the milk from my chin.
"I said I've noticed you sit alone a lot."
"Oh...uh..." At that moment articulation was dead to me. All I could do was stare as her smooth pink lips mouthed out the words.
"You're Dr. Tamron, right? My names Felicia Hart. I work in pediatrics." She extended her hand for me to shake, and in my haste to take it I knocked milk all over my manga. "Your book!" She got up swiftly and rushed over to the paper towel dispenser only a few feet away. I just used my already stained scrub to sop up the mess. "I'm so sorry!" She smiled at me apologetically and I just about melted.
"It's okay." I managed to get out before my hand slipped from under me and I slammed face first onto the table. Felicia couldn't help but start laughing, and honestly neither could I.
It wasn't long after that we started talking. Everything under the sun was fair game, and it wasn't long until we were the only ones left. She even laughed at my stupid jokes and retorted with some of her own. It was the first of the best days of my life. One wonderful year with her eyes glittering when I entered a room, her hands gently cupping my face when I was sad just before she'd pull me into a hug, and her cookies. She made the best cookies. I did everything I could to be romantic. Most of my attempts would fail miserably, but it only made her laugh even more. I was going to ask her to marry me.

Then it happened. It was a stormy night. I had everything planned. We were going to see her favorite band in concert. Their manager was my friend in highschool, so I called in a favor. The lead singer would walk down to us in the middle of her favorite song and bright lights would flash her name on the stage. Then as he said the words 'love you forever and always' the words 'marry me' would scroll across. I'd take out a sleek golden necklace with a big red ruby carved into a heart and trimmed in gold because I know how much she hates rings. It was perfect. She would love it. But she was late.

I got beeped around midnight. They were swamped at work and needed another set of hands. I hesitated getting there, just in case Felicia showed up at the last minute.
Everyone was acting strange when I got there, but I hardly noticed it at all. I went in, cleaned up, and started cutting. It was reconstruction surgery. The poor person on the table had massive burns on her face and upper body. After I had prepared her I looked at the drivers license that barely survived the fire. I couldn't believe it at first. I wasn't willing to. The name was no longer there, but I knew that face, those eyes. It was Felicia. This was why she had been late. I looked down at her in horror. My surgical assistant had to yell my name several times before I would even move my hands.

I don't remember much after that. Everyone tells me how amazing I was. How each time she almost died I would miraculously bring her back. That I was such a different person. Calm, cool, clear and commanding. And how even though I did the best any man could she wouldn't be able to survive without a machine pumping the life into her. It had been in that moment of cool I had refused to let them even attach her to them.

I learned later that she had been getting ready in her apartment when the fire started. Then they told me that it was arson and that I was under arrest.

It was Mr. Wright and his assistant Maya Fey that first believed my rants that I hadn't done it. That I didn't kill her I couldn't. My surgical assistant went on the stand and claimed that I had been acting very strange, and I was very quick to refuse keeping her alive on machines. There was a mountain of evidence stacked against me. When Mr. Wright pressed that I had no motive they pulled out the big guns. They showed pictures of her with another man. Claimed that I had done it in a heat of passion. My chest got warm, like my heart had burst into flames, the rage overwhelmed me. I objected. I swore that she would never do that to me. That the pictures had to be fake! It took them hours to calm me down. They had to take a recess. My outburst hadn't really helped my case any.

The next day I felt bitter and broken. I wouldn't even talk to Mr. Wright as he tried to comfort me in detention. Not until I realized that he wasn't speaking to me as a lawyer, but as a man who'd been broken too.

On the second day of the trial I was found innocent. My surgical assistant cracked under Mr. Wright's logic and confessed everything. Her love for me, the sadness she felt because I never noticed her, and her hatred for the woman who'd taken me from her. She even screamed she'd done it for me as she was being taken away by the police.

I was a free man, but it wasn't until I quit my job and changed my name that I could start to move on...

---

Last edited by SerenityBlue on Fri Dec 21, 2007 5:13 am, edited 13 times in total.

Very well, written. the concept is unique and well handled, I I like it quite a bit. Kudos.

---

Thanks, Jenna. I was afraid it might have been a little bit of pointless ramble. But then that's how the character is, so I suppose it works out.

---

I think it works rather well for the piece.

---

Whew, Burning Hearts was a rough one. This doesn't mean I won't be writing things for Dr. Tamron anymore, they'll just be out of order.

---

Mmm, I do enjoy your writing style very much. Nice to get a bit of backstory on the other Blake. *Chuckles*

There's not enough for me to sink my teeth into yet *Fast Reader*, but I shall patiently await the next installment, duck. <3

Aw, thanks missus Doylie. They are pretty quick reads. I don't really know how much I'll be writing in here, it's sort of an 'as inspiration hits' kind of thing. Though I've been getting quite a bit of inspriation lately, however, I'm not sure if I should save it for your RP or not.

---

Like one of those 'WHOA IDEA OPEN WORD OPEN WORD OPEN WORD WHY WON'T WORD OPEN' moments? Or perhaps your ideas are more, umm... organized than mine. /= *sigh*

Do whatever you want with your inspiration, duck. XD

That's pretty accurate. Of course I'm old school and most of my writing is done on paper. So it's more 'IDEA! WHERE'S MY PEN?! I NEED A PEN! SOMEONE GET ME A PEN!'.

EDIT: Wow, another Blake story. I'm really getting into this.

---