Good Enough
Chapter 20
Gotta' cut away, clear away
Slip away and sever this
Umbilical residue
Keeping me from killing you
Franziska turned her head quickly as she heard Wright yell something behind her, bringing her out of the little world that she and Miles had momentarily occupied. She watched as the defense attorney—face covered in blood—twisted his way out of Manfred's grasp and gave the older man a powerful shove, managing to push him over a row of seats that were firmly attached to the floor of the jet. She pulled away from Miles and stood up as Wright came quickly over to make sure they were both all right, though he looked like he needed medical attention himself.
Unfortunately, Manfred wouldn't be so easily gotten rid of. He pulled himself up using the back of one of the seats he had just been flipped over. He had to stop and look as soon as he saw the other three in the room, and he nearly laughed. "How noble!"
Franziska and Phoenix stood shoulder-to-shoulder in front of the bed Miles lay upon. Wright's face was bloody and he was out of breath, but his blue eyes held that same determination that the German man remembered from facing him in court. Franziska, on the other hand, appeared to be thinking about several things at once. She was standing in defense of her lover, but there was a stunned expression in her eyes, as if she was dazed. He smirked at this sight, for he knew it was the effect of seeing Edgeworth like this that had her shocked. He savored the sight, and hoped he would be able to see the full manifestations of it before he disposed of all of them.
"We won't let you do this." Franziska nearly cringed at her own voice; it was strangled, caused by the dryness of her throat and the lump that had formed against her will. She knew it sounded weak and hated the look that crossed her father's face as he heard it.
"You seem to think I will waste my time persuading you two to get out of my way," Manfred commented, the mad glint in his eyes unable to be ignored. "Honestly, would it not be more efficient to just kill you both and save myself the trouble?"
"You're a sick man," Wright growled, still trying to catch his breath. "You'd… kill your own daughter?"
"You should know by now, Mr. Wright: I am free of petty attachments. No one is special. If you get in my way, you will be eliminated. Gregory Edgeworth scarred my perfect record with his bold accusations, so I ended his life and continued my vengeance against him by laying out a path to destruction for his son. Now you, Mr. Wright, will pay for your part in destroying me; you have had this coming for a while now. Miles Edgeworth, in addition to injuring me that day and then defying my design for him fifteen years later, has managed to defile any sort of legacy I left behind, and he has been punished for it and will die for it."
Although the others had heard enough, his maddened rant was not finished yet, and his gaze now fell upon his daughter, who could not help but shudder beneath it. "And Franziska… You have been a nuisance to me since the day you were born. You have never lived up to the von Karma name, and yet I still spent time and effort to train you to be my heir, and though you didn't deserve it, I gave you that title. But, like an ungrateful, selfish child, you have refused that position and renounced your allegiance to me. You have declared yourself no longer a von Karma and left me with nothing. For this, you will die. You are worthless to me now."
Franziska simply stood there staring back at him, every word drilling into her with a force that she had not anticipated. Yes, she hated this man and had no desire to ever be a part of any legacy he planned to leave, but somehow, it still hurt. As unfortunate as it was, this man was still her father, and to hear one's parent speak these words and to have the fact that you were never loved presented in plain speech right to your face… It hurt, and there was no avoiding it.
"Well, Franziska?" His eyes bored into her as he watched the effect his words were having on this girl. "You had quite a bit to say earlier. Why so quiet now?"
Phoenix could not believe what he was hearing. How could a father ever say these things to his daughter; how could he even think these things? It was unfathomable to him that a parent could have absolutely no love for their child whatsoever, how he could simply see her as something he could shape and mold into his image, something to live through after his days as a prosecutor had ended. He pitied this woman and held a new respect for her at the same time. She was strong, and as he watched her collect herself and prepare to speak instead of crumpling to the floor and crying, he realized just how strong.
"There is only one thing that comes to mind… Manfred von Karma."
Anger flashed across his face. "What did you just say?" he snarled. The audacity of this child! Refering to him by his full name in a complete lack of respect for his authority. "I am your father and you will—"
"Du bist mein Vater nicht!"
Before Wright could intervene, a fierce brawl broke out before his eyes. Manfred was dragging Franziska away from the bed, but she was fighting with a viciousness he had never seen in her, not even in court. Dazed, Wright did not move from his spot, and instead turned to look back at the man lying on the bed behind him.
Miles was watching in silent awe mixed with utter terror. This whole episode was overwhelming and it was beyond him what was going on and what he was supposed to be doing or thinking. Seeing that woman in this position gave him the urge to get up and fight that man as well, but he didn't know why and was physically incapable of doing so.
However, something that man had said had captured his attention. Gregory Edgeworth. He knew that name; it had been in his dream. That was his father, but that man had said something about ending his life. So… did that mean that the man who had been keeping him prisoner and torturing him for as long as his memory extended had also killed his father? Did that mean that his father was… dead?
Miles suddenly noticed that Wright was looking at him, and he began to shift his gaze from the spiky-haired man to the fight and back again. And suddenly, he heard himself saying, "Help her…"
As if he had been hit with something, Wright jumped and backed away a bit, suddenly snapping back to reality. Without another moment's hesitation, he whirled around and ran to Franziska's aid, pulling her out of the way as Manfred attempted to render her unconscious with a sheet of metal he had broken off of something in the room that Phoenix could not identify.
Unfortunately, this action put himself in harm's way, and he quickly found himself lying on his back on the floor, vision and hearing fading in and out as a searing pain surged through his head. He faintly thought he heard Franziska scream, but he had no time to consider this as something descended toward him and brought on total darkness.
Franziska watched in horror as Manfred struck the unconscious man repetitively with his weapon. She had to do something quickly or he would be beaten to death. Her eyes now darted around the cabin frantically searching for anything she could grab. She had to settle on a folded-up steel chair lying near the bed, obviously intended for keeping post near Miles considering the other seats were stationary and nowhere near him. She made a leap for her weapon of choice and took it up, wheeling back around and bounding forward to strike the old man from behind. He stumbled, having been taken by surprise, and she took this opportunity to knock the sheet of metal out of his hands with the chair.
Franziska swung at him a third time, but he had recovered by now and whirled around to catch the chair with both hands before it hit him. This was painful, of course, but not nearly as painful as it would have been had the steel connected with his head. He pushed back on it, ramming it into Franziska's chest and throwing her backward. She hit the wall hard with the wind knocked out of her, and Manfred cast the chair aside, for he did not need it to fight her.
"Stupid girl!" he growled as he pinned her against the wall. "If Miles Edgeworth could not overpower me, what makes you think you can?"
He was right, she couldn't even push him away now. She had to think of something, and fast. In a move of desperation, she spat in his face, and taking advantage of his surprise and disgust, was able to worm her way out of his grasp and dart across the room, hoping to find something of use as she went.
And all she found was a gun.
When Manfred wheeled around to give chase, he froze at the sound of a click and found himself staring down the barrel of the gun he had brought in here with him. The woman holding it was trembling uncontrollably and gasping for breath, but her expression was one of fury, teeth bared and eyes fixed on Manfred's face from behind the pistol.
At first he hesitated, watching to see what she would do, but when she did not move, he began to laugh. "Going to kill me, Franziska?"
She didn't say anything, but her mind was racing. Yes! Yes, she needed to do this! He had hurt so many people, including the person who was most important to her. If she didn't do this, he would kill them both. And yet…
"Perhaps you can still prove yourself to me after all." His madness showed vividly now in his facial features. He was smirking, void of fear though death stared right at him. "Go ahead then, Girl. Pull the trigger. End my life and take my place. This is your chance to be just like me. Come on, Franziska, make your old man proud!"
No… Not like this… He would kill his own daughter, but she was not a demon. She could not murder her father, no matter how much she hated him and claimed to disown him.
She took in a deep, shaking breath, and her response was strained and barely audible.
"No… I'm not like you."
"Very well then." Before she knew it, he had come forward and taken hold of the gun. With his free hand, he pushed her down onto the floor against the bed and held the gun just inches from her face. Her heart beat heavily in her ears as she stared up into his eyes, his insanity all she could see there. She was going to die; there was nothing holding him back. Her entire body was stiff as she waited in torturous anticipation for the end…
…And suddenly he was gone. She continued to stare at the place where his face had just been, but all she could see was black material. She remained frozen as she tried to get her thoughts back in order; they seemed to have shut down on her when she was preparing to take her final breath, but now she needed them. She needed to understand why she wasn't dead and why her father was no longer in front of her.
She closed her eyes and shook her head in an attempt to clear it. Then, she opened them again and looked up. Okay, her father was still in the room naturally, but he was fighting again. From her position, all she could see was the other person's attire, a black dress suit with a sleeveless top. Phoenix? No, the shouts she was hearing belonged to a man. Ares? No, he always wore long sleeves and this man's arms were not covered in scars; his skin was clear…
The man turned in his struggle and she saw his face, but she didn't recognize it one bit. However, his clothes looked identical to Tilea's, only stretched to fit this man's frame. They weren't really 'woman's' clothes; Tilea dressed very androgynously, but that was definitely her suit.
Franziska rubbed her eyes and looked again, but there was no change. This didn't make any sense: not only had a complete stranger just shown up and attacked her father, effectively saving her life at least momentarily, but he was wearing Tilea's suit. She concentrated harder on his face, trying to remember it, and suddenly she found something familiar, though not in the way she had expected. She had never seen this man before, but he bore an uncanny likeness to someone she knew very well.
It was at that exact moment that she felt a hand grip her shoulder from behind, causing her to jump. She whipped her head around and saw that Miles had moved to the edge of the bed and had reached for her. She gazed up at him, and her hand moved up to grasp his. "Miles…?"
"I knew my father would come," he was smiling, though he looked exhausted and his head still lay against his pillow.
"W-what…?" Her expression turned from perplexed to shocked as she stared up at him. She then turned her gaze back toward the fight to look at the stranger once more. Yes, he looked like Miles… or did Miles look like him? No, no, no! That was impossible! Miles' father was dead; her father had killed him seventeen years ago before she and Miles had even met.
"My father won't let anything happen to us." He was speaking so quietly due to his weakness that it almost sounded as if he was talking to himself. He looked as if he could pass out at any moment, but he was smiling, so happy and relieved to see his father here defending them.
"Miles… That's…" How could she tell him? It was impossible, but he seemed so sure. Yet, how could he know? He didn't remember anyone; how could he have remembered his father's face after seventeen years and not remember the faces of those he knew only a couple of months ago?
Suddenly, something came to her, causing her to gasp and clap a hand over her mouth. A man who was supposed to be dead had come to their aid, and he was wearing Tilea's clothes. Could it be? Could this be the power Ares had been telling her about? Sure, she had heard of it; Maya Fey was supposed to be able to 'channel' spirits, but Franziska had never actually believed in it or been faced with it as far as she knew. Her first case against Phoenix Wright had dealt with mediums and whatnot, but in that case she had only sort of… played along with the whole channeling thing, and it had turned out that there had been none involved in the end. And in that case, she had read that the mediums only changed in appearance slightly, and this man looked nothing like Phoenix Tilea at all, which would have been a rather odd sight upon considering it.
So… What was going on here? Was this Miles' father reawakened from the dead by Agent Tilea, or was Miles just hallucinating, which—unfortunately—seemed more likely?
She continued to watch the fight, and to her amazement, the stranger was winning! Franziska made an attempt to rise, maybe to help him, but Miles would not allow it. She was surprised at his remaining strength. "Don't," he said. "You'll get hurt." He paused as she stared up at him. "You can… come up her with me. It would be safer…"
Franziska blinked. He had no idea who she was, right? So, why was he being so protective? Maybe… Maybe some part of him remembered; maybe he had developed an instinct to protect her that hadn't yet been stamped out.
And, as if on cue, the fight was coming toward her, and one of them was falling. Franziska screamed and only just moved out of the way before the stranger fell on her. Quickly, she scrambled up onto the bed to avoid getting mixed up in this fierce battle, which she had realized suddenly that she did not want to be a part of. She was now on all fours on the end of the bed, as far away from the two brawling men as she could get.
To her dismay and Miles' horror, Manfred now had the younger man pinned in the same place he had earlier been preparing to shoot his daughter, only he was not holding a gun this time.
"Who are you!?" Manfred roared while fighting for breath.
The stranger was breathing just as heavily as his opponent, but he looked considerably calmer, save for a flaming determination in his eyes that Franziska could recognize even at a distance as the same look she had seen so many times in Miles' eyes. "You should already know the answer to that, Manfred." His voice was naturally soft, but there was an underlying tone of command that could not be ignored. It was gentle and powerful in the same instance, though it was currently a bit hoarse due to his struggle for air. "Or does your insane obsession have no face?"
"Don't toy with me!" Manfred pulled the other man forward and pushed him back again, slamming the back of his head against the bar running alongside the bed. "Gregory Edgeworth is dead!"
"Thanks to you, but haven't you ever heard of vengeance from beyond the grave?"
"What is this nonsense!?"
The younger man was now laughing softly despite his position. "Ever since you took my life that day you've continued to exact your revenge by punishing my son, even though you had already eliminated me. You think to continue vengeance against the dead, but you never considered that they might return the favor."
Gregory's head was smashed against the metal bar again, but he continued to chuckle in morbid amusement.
Meanwhile, Miles was staring back and forth between the two other men, a look of confusion and fear on his face. He knew this was his father; it had to be, but… they were saying that his father was dead, killed by the man that had been torturing him for as long as he could remember. His father couldn't be dead because he was sitting right there, but… "F… Father…?"
"I demand you stop this lunacy and tell me who you are!"
"You're the only lunatic here, Manfred."
"Father?"
"You are not Gregory Edgeworth!"
"Actually, he is."
All three men were suddenly looking at Franziska, who was sitting cross-legged on the end of Miles bed. Miles looked hopeful, Manfred looked livid, and Gregory… simply looked curious.
"Phoenix Tilea has other ways of changing her identity than simply dressing up as some pathetic street-wanderer."
"What the hell are you babbling about, Girl?!" Manfred demanded, appearing as if he'd like to lunge at her instead of listening to what she had to say. "What does this have to do with that deceiving little—"
"What the young lady is trying to say," Gregory interrupted, "is that I am being channeled through one of their friends who has the power to summon the dead back to the living realm. Did you not pay attention to the DL-6 case at all?" Having caught his breath, Gregory was able to throw Manfred off of him. There was a small struggle and Manfred now stood back away from the other three while Gregory stood in front of his son. "Did you not even pay attention to the part where I was summoned back by Misty Fey to testify about my own murder, in which case I falsely accused Yanni Yogi because I was under the misconception that my son had accidentally delivered the killing blow. I regret that I didn't know the truth back then; I could have saved many people a great deal of pain."
"You… This can't be…" He couldn't even collect his thoughts he was so angry and shocked. Manfred von Karma was standing face-to-face with the man he had murdered seventeen years ago. For the first time he could remember, he was actually… frightened…
"After what you did to Ares," Franziska continued, receiving a glare from her father for daring to speak again, "Tilea knew she wouldn't be able to focus properly in a battle. So, she decided to call back the person she knew would defeat you no matter what."
"This young lady is quite intelligent," commented Gregory, smiling over at Franziska while Manfred's glare strengthened. "It is true. I don't know the medium who is channeling me, but I was left a note explaining the basics of what has been going on here and said medium's reasons for summoning me to fight in their place. I'm grateful to this person for calling me to this battle; revenge might be a sin, but after everything you've done to Miles… Well, it's about time I put an end to you."
Manfred could not even measure his own anger. This was the strangest thing that had ever happened to him, and he barely understood it, effectively enraging him further. "Those are highly arrogant words for a dead man," he snarled in response. "You could not defeat me in life! What makes you think you can defeat me from beyond the grave!?"
Gregory closed his eyes and chuckled softly. "In a court of law, there are rules and procedures that must be observed. However, you always fought as if it was no holes barred and got away with it." He opened his eyes again and the fire within them seemed to have intensified while they were hidden. "Manfred von Karma, you have never seen me fight dirty."
And with that, Gregory lunged forward to tackle the older man to the ground. There was a loud crash and the battle was on once more. Franziska was finding it difficult to tell who was winning the majority of the time, for the two of them were in a fierce grappling match, each trying to break something of the other's.
Franziska continued to observe the ferocious battle between their fathers, and couldn't help but frown at the Shakespearian cliché. She then turned her gaze to Miles, trying to read the expression on his face. She couldn't imagine how confusing all of this must be to him. He barely remembered who he was, much less the events that had happened in his life to lead up to this that would aid him in comprehending the odd conversation that had just taken place. She was surprised he hadn't just shut down and ignored it all after discovering that he didn't understand.
"Franziska…?"
"Hm?" She had been looking over at him, but she hadn't realized he was returning her gaze.
"What… What's happening?" he questioned timidly. None of it made any sense to him; he had thought he understood this, but now…
Franziska opened her mouth to explain, then closed it again. She needed a moment to consider her response. It had to be simple, for his mind was so damaged that he'd be easy to lose with anything complicated. Also, it needed to be optimistic. He needed hope, even if things weren't quite written in stone. She felt that he would need to believe they were saved, even if there was no guarantee.
As a matter of fact, she probably did as well. This emotional rollercoaster was just too much…
"There's always a light at the end of the tunnel. Just hope it's not a train."
"Your father is protecting us, Miles," she finally said. There was no need to explain his father's presence, no need to explain the history between them, and no need to express the doubt that this would all turn out for the best with no consequences. That's all she needed to say.
And she saw him smile again, resting his head. "I was right," he nearly whispered. "I'm tired of not understand…. I was finally… right."
Just as Franziska was about to consider whether she should smile at him or start crying due to seeing him like this, that small sound that could make anyone freeze without question came to her ears, and she did just that.
There had been a shout of pain, and then a click, and slowly Franziska turned to look at the scene, her heart racing with anticipation at who was holding the gun. She was holding her breath, the fraction of a second that it took her brain to process the scene feeling like eons.
And she released it, though her body trembled. Gregory held the gun. It was almost over.
"Many people fear that the ghosts of their past may one day return to haunt them, drive them mad with guilt and anxiety. But not you. No, you let your sins and demons linger about to cause others pain. You thought that by keeping your enemies—those you hated—close and under your control, you could keep them from destroying you. Well… Look what you've created. Who could have guessed that your ghost would return to end your life…"
"…Goodbye, Manfred von Karma."
The blast seemed to envelope the entire world around them, and for a moment, time stood still, all occupants of the room hanging in suspended animation, before blood burst from Manfred von Karma's chest. His body tensed and stiffened, and then he fell, slumped to the ground and lay motionless.
It was over just as it had begun, with a single gunshot.