A/N: I've named this story after my friend. He's kinda odd. And I think he'll show up later on in anther story. I really don't want to continue my other story Advoding Dark Allies and I just realized that I spelled it wrong...but it doesn't matter! So here is another one…

Title: The Amazingly Amazing, Awesomely Awesome, Fantastically Fantastic, Coolly Cool, Mike


Pain is life. Life is pain. It works both ways.

Emotional pain and physical pain are different. Physical wounds scab and heal. Emotional injuries burn and stab at the heart.

They are different, but they hurt.


Phileas Fogg considered himself to be a physical man. He does not like deep things. He liked things to simple.

Phileas has had his share of emotional pain; he had so much of it that he probably filled his quota for his whole life and a few more.

It was just easier for him to deal with physical pain. There was nothing to admit in it. It is as it is and there are few ways people can hide it.

What he was experiencing right now was not physical pain. It was the kind of pain that wrenched at his heart, making him weak and powerless. It was the kind of pain that will never leave his mind and will blaze itself into his heart.

He hated being helpless. Emotional pain.

Phileas should be use to it by now. Every time Rebecca goes out on a mission he feels that kind of helplessness. But now the helplessness was stronger and it was not only emotional now, it was physical. This, in the end makes the emotional pain worse because, physically, he could not help.

Phileas stood still, just like they told him to. He was being physically restrained by two men who could have ripped him in half, but for right now they seemed content to hold him in a firm grip.

If you even look the wrong way her blood will spill.

Phileas believed they would make good on their threat. It was not Rebecca that they were after. Hell, it wasn't even him that they were after. They were here for one reason only and for that same reason they were still alive.


Two men stood to the sides of the door. As he approached they stiffened and demanded to know what he was doing there.

"Jules Verne" he simply stated.

One of the men went inside and a moment later he came back out and motioned for Jules to follow.


Phileas had not seen Rebecca and Passepartout since they were taken, and his heart filled with relief when he saw them. He was glad that they were all right, at least physically.

When Verne walked through the door, willingly, Phileas knew everything. He cursed himself for being used as bait.

Verne stood in the middle of the room, waiting. He had a satchel slung over his shoulder, it looked full to bursting.

He felt a growing unease in the pit of his stomach.


Rebecca Fogg watched as Jules walked into the room, freely following the men who brought them here.

Now she knew. Before the men would not speak to them, no matter what happened. She tried spitting at them, yelling at them, and then even seducing. Of the three she could see that the last choice worked the best, however they did nothing, only gave her a pining stare before quickly turning away.

The men were using them as a bargaining chip. She would have never thought they would have done this, only because the men took her by surprise on a routine mission. And that mission had nothing to do with Jules so naturally Rebecca had assumed that she was captured because of England. With her as captive they had then captured Phileas and Passepartout.

They were very through and they left nothing out of the equation. The only reason that Phileas had gotten captured was because of her.


Passepartout watched as his countryman came in. Realization stuck him cold and he could not for the life of him move.

Another man entered and made his way towards his young friend. Jules stood still, even when the man lightly touched Jules's forehead, brushing back a stray lock of hair.

They spoke quietly but the room was dead silent so Passepartout could hear them.

"I am Duke Ezekiel Connor, at your service Jules Verne."

"Do what you will just let them go."

"I have been thinking about our exchange, Jules, and I have come to the realization that you have only one life to give. So it is only worth another life. Pick one of your friends, Jules, and that one will be free."

"That was not the deal."

"If I remember correctly, we never discussed any of the details."

"But you had said friends, therefore it is plural. More than one!"

The duke thought this over, "Fine, since you also have that bag of yours, I suppose that can count as another one of your friends."

"Spare me your sarcasm, Duke."

"Pick two, and they will leave."

Jules floundered.

Passepartout had to speak up. "Let my master and Miss Rebecca go, Jules. I can stay."

Pain flared from a spot on Passepartout's head running down his spine and into his soul. Blackness consumed him.


"That was uncalled for!" Jules yelled. Passepartout had gone completely limp in the guards' hands.

"They had been warned." The duke replied.

Jules let out a frustrated groan, running his hands through his hair; he knew Passepartout must leave. He had been hurt.

Rebecca should go with Passepartout.

Fogg would kill him if he chose him over his cousin. Rebecca would do the same, but it was different with Rebecca.

"Passepartout and Rebecca" Jules said.

Two other guards came up behind Jules but they made no motion to restrain Jules.

The guards started to drag Passepartout out but Rebecca suddenly kicked out when they began to lead her. Rebecca fell to the floor with the guard and snatched his knife before he could react; she quickly cut his throat as the other guard grabbed her from behind. Rebecca slammed her head back into the guard's neck. Using her free hand to turn herself around she stab the other in the stomach.

At the same time Fogg threw himself to the ground taking both the guards with him. He jumped up and kicked one of them in the head, knocking him out, before diving onto the other one. Fogg wrestled the guard's knife out of his holder and stabbed his chest.

Simultaneously, the guards that stood at Jules's side grabbed him. Jules threw himself backwards. But the guards held firm. Jules continued to struggle. Another guard came up behind Jules, he pulled Jules's head back by his hair and with a dagger to Jules's throat ordered him to be still.

Rebecca and Fogg stood up from their battles and the duke began to laugh. "We have what we want. You can leave if you so desire. Guards!" At once the guards that still held Passepartout dropped him like dead weight and they returned the duke's side, making their defense stronger around Jules.

Jules could see that Rebecca and Fogg were not about to leave.

The duke held up a pistol and aimed it at Rebecca. "Leave."

A long, suspended moment passed. Fogg and Rebecca stared at the scene before them, each of them reflecting on what may happen. A thousand possibilities ran through their minds. A million outcomes that might happen but Rebecca and Fogg could see that there was no way to get themselves and Jules out alive.

"Rebecca, Fogg, please." Jules broke the silence; he prayed that they would listen to his plea.

Hesitantly and slowly, Rebecca and Fogg eased Passepartout up. With Passepartout between the cousins they exited the room.

"I was afraid that we would never be alone." The duke said dramatically, "Bring him."


Phileas, Rebecca, and Passepartout waited outside the building. They could not leave Jules here.

A coach approached the building and four people entered the coach, one of them forcefully.

They had way to follow them. Phileas, Rebecca, and Passepartout watched the coach travel out of sight, only knowing that they were headed north.

They started following, unsure of what else to do.

Luckily they came across a town not a mile away from the building and Phileas bought a coach and the fastest horses he could find. While Rebecca gathered any supplies they needed and Passepartout got his head checked out.

"Phileas, they could have stopped here in this town. We should check around just in case they have him here." Rebecca explained to her cousin as they were loading their supplies.

Phileas nodded, "Passepartout, make sure that all of this," Phileas motioned towards their supplies, "will get safely on the coach."

Passepartout began the loading again as Phileas and Rebecca spoke a few words. They nodded at each other and made their own separate ways.