Chapter Four

A Place to Land

"Halt!"

Edgeworth jumped down from the horse and raised his hands, "Zuflucht!"

The soldiers stared at him and he swallowed apprehensively, they might just arrest him and send him back—well, as long as Franziska was safe—nothing else mattered.

He nodded toward her and the soldier with the gaudiest patch—Edgeworth assumed he was he was the duty sargeant—nodded slowly. Edgeworth counted at least four rifles trained on them.

He hoped Franziska wouldn't notice how badly he was shaking as he helped her down from the horse. He looked at her pointedly and motioned her to copy him. He put his hands in the air.

"Um… There's a gun. Eine Pistole in mein… um my bag," he jerked his head toward the horse. The sergeant nodded to one of the other soldiers and Edgeworth watched nervously as the Swiss soldier shouldered his rifle and approached to begin searching their things.

Eventually Edgeworth swallowed down the last bitter scraps of his pride and let Franziska do the talking for them. The way it made her stand a little straighter and the gleam of fiery confidence that shone in her eyes made it all worth it.

They spent that first night crowded among other refugees awaiting quarantine. The noise and the jostling crowds would've been intolerable if she wasn't there swinging that whip and hanging onto his arm as if her life depended on it. All they had in this world was each other.

It was getting easier to forget everything else and pretend that this was all they in in life. To stay together. Edgeworth lived on in her, only for her.

At night, in the straw, he held her against him for warmth while the small sounds of sleep wafted through the crowds of refugees—it might have been waves on the ocean for all the attention he gave anyone else.

Franziska stirred in his arms and he looked down into her peacefully sleeping face. Moonlight and candlelight warred with the shadows allowing him only short fleeting glimpses of this girl. His girl.

"Schön Fräulein," the old man grinned. He was serving them soup with a large dented tin spoon as they moved in line with the other refugees. The soup and a small heel of dry bread was provided as a courtesy—as many of them were not yet allowed to leave.

He wasn't able to learn exactly how long they were supposed to remain there, but Franziska didn't seem over-concerned about it, so he didn't worry. She was the only thing real in the world.

Shared quarters and cramped personal space was nothing new for him. He'd lived in orphanages from the time his father died until he was fifteen and managed to find work enough to care for himself. The Army was no different. Even as an officer, he was only allowed small personal space and expected to live close to the platoon.

He dipped his stale bread into the watery soup and sucked at the warm liquid—at least it was warm—and thought about the men he'd left behind. He'd always held back from them—maintaining a professional distance—but nothing brings men closer together than shared suffering.

He'd met most of them in the States before the unit sailed out for England and then France. Larry he'd known since childhood. Larry, who was always enamored of one girl or the next. Larry whose antics drove him to anger on more than one occasion. Phoenix too had been a boyhood friend. Phoenix should be home by now. What would they think of him now? Miles Edgeworth, a promising Army officer—a sharp mind, poised for Command—turned traitor? A deserter. A coward…

Edgeworth caught the movement of Franziska's hair in his periphery and turned to watch her eat. She was mimicking his action, sucking soup from the hard bread until it was soft enough to chew. He watched her and almost smiled—nothing else mattered except her. None of the past, and none of the Army.

They were released after twenty days. Edgeworth was relieved when their horse was returned none the worse for the ordeal. His service pistol, however, was not returned to him.

The weak autumn sun beamed down as best it could in the sky, shining bravely down as if trying to deny the oncoming winter. Edgeworth watched the sky as he and Franziska made their way through the city. He couldn't help thinking that their timing had been perfect. They wouldn't have survived the journey if they'd left now.

He looked over at Franziska and she met him with a coquettish, sidelong look. Nothing else mattered anymore.


She loved the city. With it's hills and cobbled streets. The surrounding country colored every view so that each turn of the head brought on new beauty, new art.

"You can call me Miles," the soldier told her when she'd tried to ask him a question. Miles was easier to say than Edgeworth.

He stood by, a stark, straight-backed figure in the street while she spoke with the horse seller. They needed money—at least to start. Surely, Miles could find work once they'd settled.

The horse seller eyed them suspiciously asking several times why she was there negotiating and not the man that stood in the street waiting for her. Miles was glaring in their direction and she glared at the man with an icy self-assurance, knowing that Miles would back her up as soon as she beckoned.

The whip proved to be the better negotiator, however, and she took enough money from the sale of the horse to buy them a week in a small one-roomed guesthouse. The landlady was wary, but knew better than to ask too many questions.

The place was small and the upkeep had been shoddy at best—but it was cozy and it would make a home. The water closet was shared between three other rooms, but those rooms were as yet unoccupied—so they had it to themselves.

She'd insisted he go first—she was counting on his foolish sense of gallantry, to wash quickly for her sake. That would give her time to enjoy a real bath without worrying that someone might be waiting a turn. In the end she decided the ten minutes Miles had spent in the water closet was entirely too long and barged in.

He looked shocked and scandalized and utterly vulnerable in the bath. Naked and wet and with nowhere to run.

"Du bist zu lange dauert. Was, wenn all das heiße Wasser ist weg?"

"Do you mind?" He stood up with no small amount of surprise and indignation.

"Nein," she smiled. He really was a handsome man—a little thin from the weeks spent on the run—but that would change in time.

He blushed and sat back in the water with a splash and the painful sound of elbows and knees on the porcelain. He refused to look at her after that and sat there in some kind of stubborn rage or was it fear? Franziska set her whip a top a stack of linens near the door.

She turned her back to him and started to unbutton her dress and let it fall at her feet.

"Ich denke, wir können es teilen. Das heiße Wasser, so dass weder von uns muss durch ein anderes kaltes Bad leiden," she said and then turned to face him. She put up her arms and shook out her hair.

"Ich hoffe, dass Badewanne groß genug für uns beide ist," she continued, "Auch würde ich es begrüßen, wenn du meinem Rücken gewaschen."

She looked toward the bath to find Miles staring doggedly at the wall with his hands gripping the edge of the tub so tightly his knuckles went white.

"Miles?"

"What's going on here?" He refused to turn away from the wall and look at her.

"Haben Sie jemals eine Frau nackt gesehen?"

"nackt gesehen?" He repeated. Franziska laughed.

"Sie haben noch nie eine perfekte Frau gesehen. Schau mich an Miles," she waited for him to turn his head but he never did.

She joined him in the bath, ignoring his look of dismay as she settled in the tub in front of him. His knees popped out of the water on either side of her.

"Du bist so ein Kind, Miles Ed-worth…"

He didn't hesitate very long before dragging a warm wet washcloth over her shoulders. She was tempted to turn and see if he had his eyes closed.


A/N: Oh my... Please review... Sorry for the little twist of lemon...

again sorry for my f-d up German... Also I wasn't sure what to do about low German...

Du bist zu lange dauert. Was, wenn all das heiße Wasser ist weg

You're taking too long. What if all the hot water is gone

Ich denke, wir können es teilen.

I think we can share it.

Das heiße Wasser, so dass weder von uns muss durch ein anderes kaltes Bad leiden,

The hot water, so that neither of us have to suffer through another cold bath,

"Ich hoffe, dass Badewanne groß genug für uns beide ist,"

"I hope that tub is big enough for both of us,"

"Auch würde ich es begrüßen, wenn du meinem Rücken gewaschen."

"Also, I would appreciate it if you wash my back."

"Sie haben noch nie eine perfekte Frau gesehen. Schau mich an Miles

"You have never seen a perfect woman. Look at me Miles

"Du bist so ein Kind

"You're such a child