Good Enough

(Well, it took me a while, but I'm finally ready to start posting the sequel I promised. I was stuck for a bit, but playing through the new game gave a new burst of inspiration and creativity, so I've been working on it again and felt it would be okay to go ahead and post something. So, here you go!

Warning: Rated for violence, graphic torture, language, and adult themes. READ TOURNIQUET FIRST!!!

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters from Phoenix Wright; that's CapCom's property. However, I do own Phoenix Tilea and Ares Taylor. MINE!!!! laughs maniacally...for some reason...

Okay, hope you guys like this one!)

Chapter 1

"Fine then, Mr. Alex Jones. If you say the defendant was indeed at work when the murder occurred, then show me some evidence!"

The black-haired defense attorney adjusted his glasses and cleared his throat, looking more and more nervous with each passing second. "Um, well…" he stammered. "It's… it's quite obvious, really. My client's boss signed a statement saying that Mr. Pierce works weekdays from eight AM to five PM with a lunch break from noon to one o'clock. His boss states that he did indeed work a full eight hours that day."

There was a soft buzz from the spectators' seats, but it was soon silenced by Franziska's mocking laugh. "Fool!" she shouted. "This type of thing requires cold, hard evidence, and obviously you don't have it!"

It was at this time everyone would expect to see Franziska von Karma's dreaded whip lash out at the poor lawyer, but to the court's surprise, that harsh leather weapon was nowhere to be found. Her attitude was still in tact, however, so her opponents were only spared physical pain.

"W-well, Miss von Karma," the lawyer stuttered. "C-can you prove he wasn't at work during the murder?"

There was another round of chattering, but Franziska quieted them again. "Of course I can, you foolish fool!"

Jones appeared to have been hit with a brick.

"I have here the defendant's time card," the young prosecutor stated. "According to the records, on the day of the murder the defendant clocked in at exactly eight o'clock, but did not take his usual lunch break at noon. However…" She paused for a dramatic effect, savoring the anxiety of her opponent. "…Mr. Pierce did indeed only work eight hours that day, for he clocked out at exactly… FOUR PM!"

A collective gasp resounded throughout the courtroom.

"Do you see now!?" Franziska pounded her fist on the desk before her. "The murder occurred at 4:15, giving the defendant PLENTY of time to arrive home and MURDER Miss Keith! What do you have to say to that, Mr. Alex Jones!?"

"Uh… Geh…. Um…."

"Your Honor!"

"Y-yes, M-miss von Karma?" The judge's eyes had widened at being yelled at by the fired-up prosecutor.

"The defense has failed to provide ANY…" Her fist hit the wood again. "…sufficient proof to clear the defendant's name! I request that we bring an end to this useless waste of everyone's time!"

The judge blinked a few times, and then cleared his throat. "Ahem… I believe that Miss von Karma is correct."

"B-but, Your Honor-"

"Silence, Mr. Jones. I've made my decision."

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Franziska stepped out of the courtroom with her head held high and her arms folded across her chest. That had been such an easy trial that she wasn't really sure if it even warranted pride, but she savored the victory nonetheless. This had been her first trial coming out of recovery, so she decided to just consider it a warm-up.

"Wasting no time in ripping them limb from limb, I see."

Franziska jumped a little as the voice reached her ears; she hadn't known that anyone was behind her. However, after the initial shock wore off, she smiled and turned around to see Miles Edgeworth striding toward her, his own grin playing on his lips.

"You don't know how badly I wanted to get back into court," she said, waiting for him to approach her.

"Of course I do," he stated, coming to stand in front of her. He placed his hands on either side of her hips and bent his head. "Great job in there, Babe."

She giggled a little and lowered her head a bit to hide her blush, but her arms were already draped over his shoulders. "I told you not to call me that."

"Can't help it," Miles replied softly, tilting his head slightly as she looked up again to finally kiss him. He really was proud of her; he hadn't been at all certain that she would continue her career as a prosecutor after what had happened to her. Sanders had sought vengeance against her for getting him convicted, and Miles felt that she was very brave for continuing to put people like that maniac behind bars. It was a sign of her strength, though he knew she had been doubting herself in that area lately.

Just then, his thoughts were interrupted by the fact that she was pulling away from him. Confused, he lifted his head and stared down at her. "Franziska, wha-"

"You're doing it again." She hadn't screamed at him, but she might as well have. Her voice had been low, but her tone was anything but soft. All traces of joy, pride, or affection had gone from her expression. She looked now hurt and angry.

"What are you talking about?" he asked, now a little nervous.

"Don't play ignorant with me!" She broke away from his touch, stepping a few paces back. "I can smell it on your breath! You promised me, Miles Edgeworth! You promised!"

"Franziska, I-" He couldn't think of an excuse, for there really was none.

"I don't believe this!" She whirled around with tears welling in her eyes and took off running in the opposite direction, the 'click-clack' of her heels slowly dying away as she fled around a corner and disappeared from view.

"Son of a bitch!" Miles roared, slamming his fist against a metal display case. Both sounds echoed several times in the empty corridor, giving Miles an immediate and inappropriate reminder of his anger.

Actually, anger wasn't really the word. If he was angry at anyone, it was himself. He was frustrated with his own actions and his own self-loathing. Why wouldn't it just go away?! The guilt was overpowering, and he just kept making it worse for himself. He had learned by now that the alcohol wouldn't take away his problems; it just seemed to create more. Worst of all, it was hurting her, and that was the last thing he wanted to do. Still, he just couldn't stop; he kept coming back to that bottle every time the memory forced itself before his mind's eye, the memory of that pistol, the blood, the 'bang', and then the darkness.

"Edgeworth?"

Slowly, Miles looked up to see Phoenix Wright standing a few yards down the hall, a large file folder on his left arm. He looked concerned and a little anxious. Miles didn't even bother glaring at him; he just continued to look depressed, his fist still resting against the cold steel case. "What is it, Wright?"

Phoenix stayed in place for a moment, and then walked toward him. "What's going on with you?" he asked as he reached the prosecutor. "What happened?"

"It's none of your business," Miles replied dryly, preparing to turn away.

"Well, I'm making it my business, Edgeworth?!" Before Miles could get away, Phoenix reached out with his free hand and grabbed his shoulder, forcing the prosecutor to face him. "Look, we're friends, and it's always my business when there's something wrong with my friends. I was there too, remember? There's nothing about what happened that I don't know about, so you don't have any reason to hide anything from me."

There was silence after he finished his little spill, but when Miles finally spoke, his gaze was fixed on the polished marble floor they stood upon. "Just…feeling guilty, I suppose."

"Guilty?" Phoenix raised an eyebrow. "For what?" The clueless lawyer couldn't possibly imagine what his friend had to feel guilty about, but he learned very quickly.

"I killed a man, Wright!" Edgeworth bellowed, pushing Phoenix's hand away from his shoulder. "It doesn't matter that he deserved it; I still took his life! And now Franziska is upset with me because I can't fuckin' stop drinking! Is that what you wanted to hear!?"

"N-no…" Wright replied honestly, staring in shock at the other man. It may have been the truth, but like many truths it wasn't pleasant. Edgeworth appeared to be on the verge of tears, and his face was red with anger; it really hurt to see him like this again.

It was all he could think to do: Phoenix replaced his hand on the prosecutor's shoulder, and the man lowered his head with a miserable sigh. He was tired: tired of hurting, tired of feeling guilty, tired of causing pain. His own self-hate had tricked him into believing that no one was on his side anymore, so he couldn't seem to fight against this friendly hand.

"Come on," said Wright. "My trial doesn't start for another hour. We'll go for a walk and you can talk to me if you like. It'll help you calm down."

Miles hesitated, mulling it over. Why not? It wasn't as if he had anyone to rush home to; he knew Franziska would probably have gone somewhere else until her anger subsided, and it wasn't as if he felt like working at all. He gave another heavy sigh. "All right," he muttered, turning and allowing Wright to lead him down the hallway past the elevators and toward the staircase.

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"But… How can you be right? He's…"

"I thought so too." Phoenix Tilea closed her laptop and stood up, beginning to pack it away. "How do these lunatics keep getting out?"

Ares Taylor frowned and continued typing on his own portable computer. "They seem to be connected with the same people as well. Those two really pissed some psychos off."

"It seems a bit more complicated this time though," Phoenix mused, looking over the notes she had made.

Finally, Ares finished and closed his screen as well. "Sanders made it obvious who he wanted dead, and we were sure it would have been easy for him to figure out where Franziska was going to be on that particular night. That's why we were at the prosecutors' dinner. We were sure Sanders would expect to find her there, so we planned on apprehending him."

"We just didn't count on Miles being there with her; that was the only problem then," Phoenix said, still staring at the paper in her hand. "If he hadn't been, she would have stayed with us the entire time." She sighed and slipped the sheet into the leather case for her laptop. "I can't seem to work out how this one operates. I mean, he has strong ties to both of them; which one is he planning on going after?"

Ares sighed. "We need more information, which is something we don't have." He zipped up his leather briefcase and straightened up. "Do you think we should call them?"

Phoenix thought for a moment and then shook her head. "Not yet. If we call it'll only cause panic, especially since we don't know anything besides the fact that he's escaped."

Ares nodded slowly. "I suppose; let's just hope the media doesn't get a hold of this too quickly." He led the way to the door and they both exited the room carrying their cases with them.

(Well, that's the first one! Please review and let me know who's reading and what you think. It would be appreciated lots! Later guys!)