Good Enough

(Here's the next update. The one after this won't be up for about a week because I'm going away fro the Thanks Giving holiday and then I'm going up north to stay for a month. I'll have a computer then though, so never fear. Anyway, hope you like this one, and hope those I've been missing will come back to read and review soon.)

Chapter 5

He had barely turned off the ignition before his car door was flung open and he practically threw himself out of it. He dashed to the front door and tried to turn the knob, realizing quickly that it was locked. He still held his keys in his hand, so it didn't take long for this problem to be rectified. He threw the door open and stepped inside, hearing no sound from within.

"Franziska!" he shouted at the top of his voice. "Franziska! Answer me!"

Nothing…

His heart pounding in his throat, he began to move through the house, opening every door and searching every room until he finally came to one that was locked. Half hoping she would be in here and half terrified at what he would see if she was, he began to ram his shoulder against the wood. It wasn't too difficult to break open and he stepped in to glance around.

The room wasn't very big; it was set up as an office. There were no windows in the room, but the overhead light was on. Across from the door in a corner was a large wooden chest and to the left of the door was a large corner desk upon which sat a computer monitor that faced away from the entrance. And, behind the computer desk sat…

"Franziska!" Miles moved toward her, horrified. She was bound to the office chair and there was enough tape over her mouth to keep her from speaking at all. She looked utterly frightened and shook her head violently as he came toward her.

Miles didn't seem to notice this gesture and came right over, reaching out and ripping the tape away from her face. She gasped, but spoke immediately, her voice choked and shaking. "Miles, no! I-It's a trap!"

"Wha-"

Before he could even react, he felt someone take hold of him from behind. A damp cloth was placed firmly over his nose and mouth and he was pulled backward. He heard Franziska screaming something, but in his sudden panic he couldn't understand her. He fought against his attacker who was pulling him back and forcing him to lean down against the hand that held the cloth. It didn't take long for the drug to take effect and Miles began to lose consciousness. Within a half a minute of the struggle's start, it was over and Miles was limp in the other man's grasp.

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Agent Taylor moved along the wall silently with a pistol held out in front of him, listening for any sign of motion in the house. It was completely silent and had been since they had arrived.

Suddenly, a sound from nearby caused him to freeze and cock his gun in warning, but a voice from around the corner stopped him.

"It's just me," came the whisper from Agent Tilea, who shortly made her way into his line of vision. "Anywhere we haven't checked?"

"Just that hallway," he replied in the same low voice. "Honestly, I don't see why she'd still be here."

"We can't take any chances." Tilea turned and led the way, only two doors left to check, and one of them was open.

They both moved forward, Tilea stepping into the open door and Ares checking the other, which was revealed to be nothing but a linen closet. He searched beneath the piled blankets just in case and then moved to stand beside Phoenix. "I don't see anything in here either," he muttered, glancing around the small office.

Without saying a word, Phoenix moved forward and stepped around the desk, looking down at the floor and then back up at her partner. "I do," she replied, causing him to quickly come to her side.

On the floor lay Franziska, curled into a ball with her right hand still tied to one of the arms of the chair. Tilea reached forward and snapped the rope in two, then crouched beside the woman of about the same age as herself. Ares stood over them watching. "Is she alive?" he questioned, only a small amount of his anxiety showing through onto his naturally pale face.

Tilea placed two fingers against the other woman's neck then looked back up. "Yes," she replied. "She's just unconscious, and judging by these bruises…" She paused and held up Franziska's arm slightly to show Ares what she meant. "…she was roughed up pretty bad."

"I've already talked to some people at the Prosecution Offices; nobody even saw her come in today, but they all said that they saw Mr. Edgeworth fly out of there in a hurry."

"And when did you do this?" Tilea asked as she carefully lifted Franziska from the floor.

"While you were on the phone with Kaider setting up arrangements." Ares had his cell phone up and pushed a button on the side of it. It gave a beep to indicate it had connected and he spoke, using it like a radio. "Send the chopper in; we've found von Karma."

"Which one?" came a voice from the communicator, a bit distorted by interference.

"Franziska," Ares replied. "No one expects to find our escapee so quickly."

"All right, kid. We're coming in then."

Ares then looked back at Phoenix, speaking as if their conversation had gone uninterrupted. "Some that I spoke to seemed to feel it was important to tell me that he used the elevator. Apparently no one has ever seen him do that before, even though he works on the twelfth floor of the building."

Phoenix nodded. "I've done some looking into it. You know how I am about that," she added with a bit of a smirk. "Anyway, it is pretty strange. It's a major phobia of his for good reasons, so he must've really been in a hurry to get out of there."

Hearing the sound of the small copter getting closer, Ares began to lead the way out, Tilea following behind him carrying Franziska. "Then… do you think he found out and knew she would be in danger?"

"Well, it did end up getting to the media," Tilea commented, frowning a bit. "I suppose someone relayed the news to him."

"Big mistake…" Ares said with a sigh. "We could have caught him here, but now he's gone and so is Miles…"

Nothing more was said as they walked from the house to the helicopter. They weren't allowed to show it, but they were both worried for reasons that ran deeper than the concern for things that applied to their jobs. It didn't usually happen, but for some reason, both of them had taken to Miles Edgeworth and Franziska von Karma. The two young agents had been through a good many situations, seen so much, but the rescue mission they had taken on just a few months ago that had crossed their paths had been something else. Sure, they had dealt with couples before, a missing wife or girlfriend and a concerned spouse, or vice-versa, but that time, there had been something personal in it for Phoenix and Ares. Neither could figure out what it had been that had caused it, but after all was said and done they had gotten to know the two prosecutors as friends instead of just another part of the job.

They boarded the chopper and Tilea strapped Franziska in on the gurney they had prepared. They were soon up in the air and headed away. Ares sat up front with the pilot and Phoenix stayed in the back, watching to make sure the other woman was all right.

"You really think this is necessary?" the man flying the machine asked Ares. "I mean, he's probably out of the country now; after they get her fixed up she should be fine to go home."

Ares shook his head. "If she is released, she will indeed go home, meaning back to Germany. We are making sure she doesn't go and get herself killed trying to rescue him."

The other man nodded, but didn't speak again.

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"Wielange davert es noch?"

"Keine Angst mein Herr. Wir sind gleich da."

Those voices… They seemed so far off, but… the atmosphere was so thick that it was impossible. He knew he was in an enclosed space, so the voices had to be close…

"Sind Sie sicher keine person uns gefolgt hat?"

"Naturlich, mein Herr."

Yes… They sounded closer now, much closer. One seemed to be right over him… almost… They were moving: he could feel the light bumps from time to time as the vehicle rolled along. But… he wasn't riding like everyone else was; he didn't have a seat for himself. He was lying down… on something hard, something rough below him. It was carpet, the type that would be found in a car or… some other kind of automobile. So, the floor? He was lying on the floor of something that was driving… somewhere, and there were other men… speaking German? Yes, it was German; he was sure of it!

Miles slowly opened his eyes, immediately seeing the rough gray carpet he lay upon and the bottom of a black leather seat. His breathing became a bit heavy as he became more awake and began to try and move. His head was throbbing and his face was covered in a cold sweat, but he turned it to try and look around, grateful for the absence of sunlight coming in the windows above. Since it was dark out, he had to rely on the brief light from the street lamps that lined the road to get glimpses of his surroundings, and he finally managed to put something together.

He was indeed lying on the floor of what appeared to be a large van with three rows of seats. He lay against the front two and faced the middle section where there sat a man in a business suit he did not recognize. Miles' hands were bound in front of him and his entire body ached, and though this seemed a minimal restriction, he could barely bring himself to move. He could not see what was behind this middle section of seats from where he lay.

The man he had been looking up at seemed to notice his change in breathing and looked down at him. "Keep quiet, Boy," he said in a dark tone that was just loud enough for Miles to hear, the natural harshness of the German accent making this command sound even more forceful. As he spoke, he moved his right hand slightly, making Miles aware that it clasped a black nightstick on the seat beside him.

Unable to face what was happening to him, he closed his eyes again and turned his face back toward the floor, giving no protest and simply wishing he were dreaming. Unfortunately, that was impossible; he was in too much pain to be stuck in a nightmare.

There was no way of telling for how long the van continued to glide along full of silent passengers, but eventually it began to decrease in speed as it went around what seemed to be a spiraling pathway from what Miles could tell. Finally, they came to a stop. A few of the men inside started to talk, muttering quick comments or instructions to each other. However, only one voice stood out to him, and it made his stomach churn to hear it again. How could this be real? How could this not be a terrible nightmare like all of his others? It seemed so impossible, yet it was happening all the same.

He lurched as he felt hands grasp his shoulders and pull him into a sitting position, then push him toward the open sliding door. A second man—who was already standing outside the van--grabbed hold of the metal link of the handcuffs Miles wore and began to pull him forward. He didn't resist or speak a word, and soon they had him on his feet with a man on either side of him and two more behind. The one who had been pulling at the cuffs still held the link, guiding him along, and he could tell by a distinct 'click' sound from behind him and a bit of pressure against the back of his neck that he was being held at gun point. He hadn't seen the man whose voice he had recognized, and assumed he was walking behind, but Miles didn't dare turn to look. He simply allowed himself to be led along, keeping his head down and mouth closed.