Disclaimer: Ace Attorney and all characters are copyright by CAPCOM; I'm just a fan imitating. The stories presented are influenced by the multiple games as well as the comic (Manga written by Kenji Kuroda).

The song "It's Only a Paper Moon" was written by Harold Arlen in 1933. I recommend the Nat King Cole version available from King's Road Music.

This story is set against the backdrop of World War II, in an AU created by Ghostfacekiller39. It's spun from his amazing story 'Trees of Green, and Red Roses Too'. It is, if you will, a fan-fiction of a fan-fiction. (I hope no one is offended...)

Chapter One

It's Only a Paper Moon

Lieutenant Miles Edgeworth leaned back against the tree and pulled her closer. The girl stirred, but she was too exhausted to be torn from sleep. She shivered slightly in his short coat. Her dress was torn and ragged from their travel. She was wearing a pair of his socks and they slid from her calves and bunched up against the top of the purloined pair of boots he'd managed to grab from the medical tent without anyone noticing.

At least the rain had stopped. It wasn't any less wet and uncomfortable, but it was better than rain. He heard Franziska mutter quietly in her sleep and turned his head slightly so he could bury his nose and mouth in her hair. He didn't dare go to sleep.

Edgeworth had always prided himself on his intellect. He was a very smart man, and he knew it. That was the path he had chosen. How then, did he end up in this predicament? Deserting, with the daughter of one of the Nazi's top commanders in tow?

He closed his eyes against his own shivering and took comfort in the pressure of her head against his chest. He did this for her. Now they had enemies on both sides of this Great War—all they could hope for was to find a place to hide until it was safe. Surely, even this war had an end.

They'd been running for two days and most of the previous night. Franziska never uttered a single complaint in spite of the hardship and that brought him strength where his strength was starting to fail him. He sighed softly into her platinum hair and paused to marvel at the scent of her. Her hair still held the faint touch of flowers—gardenia maybe—in spite of several days of rough quarters and now their mad dash through farms and fields and forest.

His stomach growled audibly as he sat, waiting for the sun to rise and warm them through another day in the quiet forest. He'd grabbed what he could from the meager supplies Private Armstrong had stashed in the old barn his squad was quartered in. What he had he'd wait to share with Franziska when she was awake. Things couldn't get more dire and desperate as they were right then.

He pressed his back against the tree and closed his eyes against the gnawing hunger pangs, the cold and wet seeping through his canvas pants, and the slight warm weight of the girl in his arms, and wished he could be anywhere but where he was right now.

His stomach growled again and Edgeworth felt her move against him. The sweet pungency of wet wool hit him as she pressed more closely against him. He'd given her his short coat, as the thin muslin of the dress she was wearing did nothing against the rain. His own shirt, rough Army issued cotton, held up better. If giving up the coat meant a little more suffering so this girl could keep warm, so be it. He could live with that.

They didn't speak the same language and they'd shared less than a dozen words between them. And yet, Edgeworth realized with a small smile, he'd never had his feelings stirred the way this girl seemed to stir them.

Edgeworth stared out through the black treetops at the rising moon and the weak light that was starting filter through them. It caught highlights in her hair and in the coils of the whip she was still clutching in her hands. She sighed in her sleep and it made him feel almost joyful in spite of the damp and the biting cold.

But moonlight wasn't warming, not like sunlight, and though he was almost desperate for it, Edgeworth didn't dare even the fire to light a cigarette. Not when they were this close. So he suffered in silence, finding enough comfort in the presence of this girl.

Franziska awoke with the dawn. The soldier still had his arms around her, his back against a tree. She pulled away from him slowly not wanting to disturb what looked like a peaceful slumber. She stood slowly and stretched her legs discreetly—they'd been walking for days and her legs were beyond tired.

The soldier lay against the tree where she left him when she moved further into the trees to take care of her toilet. He was a handsome man at least, she might've done much worse. She stood watching him sleep for several minutes before letting her whip slide loose from her hand. She raised her arm and then thought better of it and tapped him with the whip instead. He startled awake and glared at her hard before his gaze softened and he pushed himself up. He said something to her in English, it wasn't 'good morning' but he didn't pause and stare at her awaiting an answer.

At least he'd figured out how annoying that was. He stood and stretched before bending to scrape together some kindling for a small fire. She moved over to pull his kit out, looking for food. She'd had about enough of these beans, but one had to eat. Especially if they were counting on another day of walking.

He lit a cigarette and offered her one. When she shook her head, he walked off into the trees to relieve himself. She squatted near the fire to warm her hands. She paused to scratch at the collar of the annoying wool coat he'd given her. It stank like sheep and the rain hadn't helped that along. But he'd freely given it right from his back, and it wouldn't do to hand it back in complaint. She was better than that.

He returned and dug in his kit for two cans of beans and then frowned as he counted what they had left. He returned one can to his bag. Franziska moved so that he had some space near the poor little fire. She frowned watching him open the can with the tool he kept on his belt. She hoped they were close to where they were going.

Actually, she was certain he didn't know where they were going, either. Only that it was in Switzerland. Switzerland wasn't at war like everywhere else.

When he got the can open he took out his spoon and took a spoonful straight out of the can and shoved it into his mouth before sticking the spoon back into the can and handing the whole thing over to her. He stood and walked to the edge of the forest to stare out at the field they'd crossed the night before.

Franziska frowned at the canned beans and stirred the thick bland paste before she began to eat. She was hungry and that was enough to make anything palatable. She smiled when she remembered the hamburger he'd given her at his camp.

"Ed-worth," she said between mouthfuls of beans.

He turned to look at her from where he was studying his map and compass.

"I want burger…"

He smiled at her before turning back to his map, "Me too."

She'd finished most of the can before realizing he'd only had a mouthful for himself.

"Ed-worth," she held the can up to him when he paused from gathering their meager things together. He gave another small smile and a nod when he took it from her.

The sun was still rising when they set off again. The soldier held her hand and tempted though she was to pull away, she felt it was the least she could do for him.

They were both exhausted and it showed in the dreary pace they took in skirting the edge of the forest heading southeast. At least it wasn't raining. That did wonders to raise their spirits.

The soldier insisted they stay out of the open, no roads and no open fields if it could be avoided. The forested route made the going rough and as the day warmed into afternoon Franziska fell behind. The soldier was pushing ahead with a desperate sense of urgency and she didn't speak enough English to understand why. When they'd escaped in the dark of early morning a few days ago, she'd had the impression they were being followed. But three days out, there were still no signs of a pursuit.

He paused up ahead to wait for her. She lifted her chin when she caught him up and passed him without a pause. She didn't need him to think she needed his concession. He started whistling where he walked a few paces behind her. The tinny sound was comforting and there was no one around to complain save for the birds, maybe.

He took her arm and it startled her. She hadn't realized she'd slowed again. She didn't protest and after a short pause, he began whistling again. Franziska smiled and brought her other hand up to hide it. One might get the impression she was enjoying this.

The tune was not one she recognized easily, but it was jaunty and pleasant. It's not as if they would be having a conversation instead.

"…it's a Barnum and Bailey world," he sang it softly under his breath, "Just as phony as it can be…"

The words were odd and held no meaning, but she smiled again. This time she didn't hide it.

"But it wouldn't be make believe if you believed in me…"

A/N: Thanks for Reading! Thanks again to ghostfacekiller39 for allowing me to write and post this story...

This is a short story, told in 5 chapters. Out of respect to G39, I will not post the remainder of this until after TREES OF GREEN is completed. Again, one gets antsy when one writes something new, and I was dying to share. I hope somebody likes this...