literature

Paper Moon - 3

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Chapter Three

For a Horse

 

            It was late afternoon when Edgeworth awoke to a few nervous nickers and the warm mingled scents of horses and alfalfa hay.  His body ached, but he was warm and that was an improvement.  He took his time, but he finally stood and stretched before exiting the barn and making his way toward the farmhouse.

            Anne, the farmer’s wife, started fretting over him almost as soon as he entered the house.  The farmer eyed him suspiciously, but Edgeworth’s only concern was for Franziska.

            They’d made up a pallet for her on the floor of what looked like some kind of workroom the wife kept.  It was piled with quilts and drapes and other odds and ends. 

    She was sitting up and staring out of the window twisting her whip in her hands.

            “Lieutenant Ed-worth,” she said as soon as she noticed him.  The way she brightened at the sight of him made him giddy.  He smiled at her.

            “How do you feel?”

            She only bobbed her head a little and stared at the whip in her hands.  He sat beside her on the pallet.  She made a noise that might’ve been a giggle—but she wasn’t that kind of girl—and pulled away from him and wrinkled her nose.

    “Du riechst wie Pferde.”

    He raised and eyebrow and looked at her.  She reached up and started to pluck straw out of his hair.

    “Pferde,” he said and caught her wrist when she reached up to pluck out another piece of straw.  The hand holding the whip jerked and he let go.  What was he thinking?

    “Wenn wir ein Pferd hatte, wäre es viel einfacher reisen,” she said matter-of-factly.

    “Er, well,” Edgeworth said.  He was at a loss.

    “Pferde?” She said.

    “Right,” he said, “Pferde.”

    She sighed and shook her head, “töricht Narr.”

    They stayed there for two more nights, as Edgeworth had to help with a few chores in exchange for the hospitality.  He might not be very experienced with such work, there was no substitute for a young back and willing hands.  The farmer, he learned, had lost a son to the war. 

    In the end he wished they could’ve stayed longer—a week or maybe two.  He had no idea what he and Franziska were going to do.

    Switzerland, it turned out was right up the Rhone.  They were near the river now and only had to follow it to Geneva.  But just getting into Switzerland was only a small part of the problem.  They could just as easily be followed into the country by the Nazis or the Americans.  He thought about discussing it with the farmer, as he seemed very knowledgeable, but then, he might’ve already told the old man too much as it was.  As he packed up what the farmer and his wife were kind enough to spare for their travel, Edgeworth turned one final decision in his mind.  Pferde.  He was getting the hang of this.

    “Vous pouvez nous vendre l'un de vos chevaux?”  Edgeworth asked the farmer when they were alone.  The man gave him a shrewd look and rubbed his chin.

    “Vous avez de l'argent?”

    Edgeworth hesitated and then shook his head, “Non, mais j'ai de l'or.”

    He swallowed before digging in his pocket and pulling out his father’s watch.  The old man took it greedily and studied it.  Edgeworth felt a sudden urge to take it back and set out on foot the next morning.  It seemed wrong to see that watch in someone else’s hand.

    “Il ne fonctionne pas. Mais gainer est faite d'or et je suis sûr que vous pouvez le vendre pour un bon prix.”

    The farmer scratched at the case with his thumbnail and then nodded before pocketing Edgeworth’s watch.  The old man pointed at the rifle propped up beside the shotgun near the door.

    “Le fusil aussi,” he said and Edgeworth felt dread wash over him.  He might need that.

             “C'est la M1 Garand, no?”

            Edgeworth only nodded.  He knew he’d have to accept those terms.  It was for her sake, after all.

            “Oui. Puissions-nous aller regarder le cheval?”

            The old man smiled and patted Edgeworth’s shoulder as they walked out of the farmhouse and made their way toward the barn.

 ******************************************************************************************************    Somehow, her soldier had managed to talk the farmer into giving them a horse.  It was an old punch horse with feathered hooves and a wide back.  The horse was large enough to carry the both of them and a few supplies with no problem.

    But the soldier preferred to walk.  It was almost as if he resented the poor animal.  The going was easier along the river, though there were many more people.  When they passed through those populated areas, she noticed that he was much quieter.  He seemed tense.  Nervous.  Did he know something he simply could not convey to her?

    At night, he always retreated to the safety of the forest, and, in spite of the cold, he always refused to light a fire after the sun started to set.  At least they had the luxury of a blanket.  He always made a point to make sure she was bundled in it tightly when she went to sleep.

    Her soldier always stayed awake later than her.  Sometimes, when he thought she was asleep, she would watch surreptitiously as he made his rounds about their encampment.

    The travel was starting to feel normal, the rough nomadic way of life had become their routine.  Somehow, Franziska couldn’t find anything wrong with that.

    “It’s only a paper moon…”

    She glanced at him sidelong from astride the horse.  The sun was lowering at their back and he was leading them away from the waterfront to find a camp for the night.

    “Sailing over a cardboard sea…”

    His voice drifted toward her from where he walked at short way ahead of the horse.  It was soft, untrained for anything more than speech.  That only seemed to make his song more charming. 

    “But it wouldn’t be make believe…

    The setting sun shone golden behind them and she marveled at how the fire of it caught in the strands of his hair.  He turned to look at her and that same light lent fire to his gray eyes.  He’d caught her staring, but she didn’t feel the need to hide it.

    “Sometimes it feels like I’m in a dream,” he said.

    “Warum singst du das Lied?”

    “Das Lied?” He repeated and then smiled, “I suppose… Um…”

    “Sie singen für mich?”

    “Singen… Oh singen…  It’s a song that was popular, when I was a boy…  I was living with this woman that insisted I learn the piano—you have no idea what I’m saying… Do you?”

    “Piano?  Wir sagen Klaviers.”

    “Klaviers…”

    “Was bedeutet… um car bore sea?”

    “Huh?”

    “Paper moon…”

    “Oh… the song… um, it’s stupid… I’m sorry.”

    “Nein, ich mag es.”

    “…ich mag…?”

    Franziska smiled down at him capriciously, “Ich mag dich.”

    He raised an eyebrow, “Ich mag dich…  Something you and me…”

    “Hmm… yes…”

    “Ich mag dich,” he said with more confidence.

    They were startled by a shout.  Edgeworth stopped walking.  Franziska’s hands tightened around her whip.

    TOK TOK TOK

    The sound of machine gun fire echoed from over the hills.

    TOK TOK TOK TOK

    Came the reply.  She felt panic rising and her arms suddenly felt like lead.  She didn’t even notice Edgeworth scramble up onto the horse’s back until his body was pressed close against hers and his arms were around in front of her.  The horse whinnied at the noise and didn’t hesitate when Edgeworth gave him a kick to his flank.

    Franziska was cringing against his chest for several moments when she caught herself in that show of weakness.  She lifted her head and leaned forward against the horse’s neck.

    The big horse was not very fast and he tired quickly.  But the sound of gunfire had faded into the distance, he’d done his job.  Franziska patted he neck appreciatively and he shook his head as he slowed to his usual plodding pace.

    She could feel Edgeworth against her back.  Shielding her.  Her warm, solid protector.

    “Are you okay, Franziska?”

    “Hmm,” she nodded.

    They rode quietly like that for several minutes.  The night seemed to be falling so fast—like a bomb.  But it was quiet and still.

    “You know, I like you too, Franziska,” he whispered into her ear.

    She shuddered slightly at the puff of his warm breath against her ear, grateful that he was behind her and could not see her blush.

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. 

MilesXFranziska

***************************************************************Major Character Death
Miles Edgeworth is on the run with Franziska, the daughter of the infamous Nazi Comander Manfred Von Karma.  If you do have the guts to read it, let me know what you thought.

(Yes it makes me cry too...)
© 2014 - 2024 6gunSally
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