Chapter Text
Apollo calls Edgeworth on the ride to the hospital. He lets him know what the situation is; that Klavier is safe, they’re on their way to get medical attention, he didn’t get to see the kidnappers and there’s nothing he can think of that could lead him to them. Edgeworth listens intently, and tells Apollo to let the police do their job, now, he’s not a detective and shouldn’t have to investigate a crime that he’s already so personally involved in.
Hearing that is a little relief for him. All he can think about anyway is Klavier.
How could he have been so immature? Calling Klavier ‘darling’ and fawning over him like he’s back in high school with his first ever crush, when really he should have been the one to be level headed and calm in such a situation. He cringes internally whenever he thinks about it; he’s always been good with his emotions – which is to say, he’s always been good at pushing them down and pretending as though he doesn’t have any feelings that could get him hurt (again).
When he arrives at the hospital, he wants to go and see Klavier instantly, but he’s dragged away by a nurse for some kind of assessment for the cuts all over his face. No matter how many times he insists that he’s fine, absolutely fine, he’s attended to for an hour and then expected to have a conversation with a police officer. At least Ema is there, even though she tells Apollo that she’s not the lead on this case.
For the second time today, Apollo has to recount how he found Klavier. He hates it. It was bad enough experiencing it, but to have to constantly talk about it when it’s still so fresh in his mind makes him feel Klavier’s absence even more.
“Look,” he says, after he’s finished explaining everything from the first broadcast up to the rescue. “That’s it, okay? The whole story. Can I go see Klavier now?”
“He’s sleeping, apparently,” Ema tells him.
“Is he okay though?”
“Yeah, Apollo. He’s fine. He’s going to be really sore for a long time and he can forget about playing guitar for a while with that arm and the whole, y’know, thing with his hand, but there shouldn’t be any lasting damage.”
“When can I see him?”
“Probably when he wakes up. The nurses were saying something about his body needing to process the drugs, so he might be out for quite a bit. You should get some sleep yourself, you look like shit.”
Apollo doesn’t sleep. He just sits in the hospital waiting room, staring at the clock with painful, bloodshot eyes, until the door bursts open and Trucy practically rugby tackles him into a hug.
“Woah, Truce,” Phoenix says. “Careful you don’t hurt him.”
Trucy ignores her father completely. “Polly! You did it! Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Apollo says. “Really.”
“Your face looks terrible!”
“Doesn’t it always?” Apollo laughs, trying to lighten the mood.
“You did a good job, Apollo,” Phoenix says. “You might just be the bravest man I’ve ever met.”
“Didn’t you, like, run across a burning bridge once?”
“Okay, okay. The bravest man I’ve ever met after myself. I’m proud of you, kid.”
And then Apollo is being hugged not just by Trucy, but Phoenix, too. Edgeworth awkwardly pats him on the shoulder, and suddenly, he feels so exhausted but safe. Like he’s got a family again.
Phoenix manages to persuade him to go home and get some rest. His eyes start to drop the moment he gets into Edgeworth’s car, but when he gets back to his apartment, he forces himself to get in the shower; the water runs with dirt and blood and he sits on the little cubicle floor, his back against the wall, head in his hands.
And he sighs.
He stays in the shower until the water runs cold, and then puts on his comfiest pyjamas and falls into bed. Mikeko jumps up and curls into a ball next to his face; he gets a text from Trucy, a selfie of her and Vongole with the caption klav gav never getting his dog back xoxo; Klavier Gavin is in hospital and safe. He relaxes.
Apollo sleeps through the rest of the day and the entire night. He wakes at 8am with a jolt of panic, pulling his phone off the charger and only relaxing once he doesn’t see any notifications telling him that Klavier has somehow died while he’s been asleep. There’s only a text from Phoenix asking him to come over to the Wright Anything Agency as soon as he can, and then a second text (presumably sent by Trucy, because Phoenix is far too dense to realise just how much dread the phrase ‘come over, we need to talk’ fills Apollo with) assuring him that nothing is wrong.
As he arrives at the Wright Anything Agency, Vongole runs up to greet him. It’s like she already knows the good news.
Phoenix gets right into what he wants to say.
“I think Daryan was involved in this somehow.”
“What?” Apollo says. “Daryan? But he paid the ransom? He lost two million! Why would he do that?”
“I think he was the reason for all this, though. We were getting nowhere looking into the identity of the kidnappers, so we turned our thinking on its head and looked into Daryan instead. And, well, it turns out that three months ago, a payment of ten million dollars was received into his bank from an unknown source.”
“Huh?”
“It was a bit strange to me that the kidnappers refused eight million, and that they were adamant on communicating with Daryan. I feel like… it’s just a hunch, but it feels like he was the intended target, like it was personal somehow.”
“How did you even find any of this out?”
“Well,” Trucy interjects. “It’s not like lockpicking necessarily means a physical lock.”
“You hacked his bank account?! Trucy!” Apollo says.
“Only a little bit.”
“How do you hack someone’s bank account a little bit?”
“It’s not like I hacked in enough to make any transactions! All I could do was look!”
“Ain’t she great?” Phoenix says. “I can barely get the internet box to work.”
“Dad, come on, I’ve told you it’s called a WiFi router.”
“Anyway,” Apollo says. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t just find out that Trucy is capable of hacking into people’s bank accounts and get this conversation back on track. What do we do? Do we confront Daryan?”
“He’ll only deny any involvement,” Phoenix says. “I think we have to hand it over to Ema and see what she can do down at the station.”
Great. More waiting.
Apollo’s phone rings. It’s an unknown number, and he freezes, scrambling to answer it.
“Hello, is this Mr. Apollo Justice?”
“Speaking.”
“I’m just calling on behalf of Mr. Klavier Gavin at Hickfield Clinic, he’s woken up and is asking for you.”
“Oh. Oh! Thank god. I’ll be right there.”
He should really start paying Edgeworth gas money for how much he’s been driving him around recently. As they pull up to the hospital, Apollo waves a quick goodbye and runs inside, where he’s directed to a private room on the fourth floor; the nurses let him know that because of the high-profile status of this case, plus the fact that Klavier Gavin is an international celebrity, he’s been put in his own room away from everyone else.
Apollo walks inside and Klavier beams.
“Hey,” Apollo says.
“Hey,” Klavier replies.
“You, uh, you doing okay?”
“I am now I’ve seen you.”
“About what I said back then… I was, uh, just happy to see you, I shouldn’t have–”
“I don’t remember what you said, but I bet it was nothing to worry about. I actually don’t remember much, to be honest. Feels like I was asleep for ages somewhere really cramped and then I woke up here. It was nice of them to give me my own room with a little bathroom and everything; that was the longest I’ve ever gone without showering and I’ve got to say, I’m not a fan.”
“I’m just… I’m glad you’re back.”
“Me too. I can’t believe you convinced Daryan to give up ten million dollars, though.”
“Oh, uh, yeah,” Apollo says.
“He’s never gonna forgive me for that,” Klavier laughs. “I’ll owe him for the rest of my life.”
“You don’t owe him anything!” Apollo says, angrily. “If it weren’t for that bastard you’d have been home a lot sooner!”
“Relax, schatzi, I wasn’t being serious.”
“Well I am! How the hell can you put up with someone like that? How can you call him your friend?”
“He’s… a very good guitar player. And he’s the no-questions-asked kinda guy I could go to after that trial when Kristoph… we got really drunk together and it sort of felt like I’d be okay. It’s weird. I liked the fact that he never wanted to hear me talk about my feelings, but with you… well, I have a horrible habit of saying too much and you sit there and listen and play with that bracelet of yours and it feels like you see right through me every time.”
“I like hearing you talk.”
“Good, because I like talking,” Klavier looks earnestly at Apollo. “Where is your bracelet, actually? You don’t look complete without it.”
“Oh. Yeah, uh… I sold it?”
“You sold it? Wasn’t it, like, a gift from your mother or something?”
“Well… god, how do I say this? The ten million wasn’t… all from Daryan.”
“What?”
“He said he wasn’t going to pay, so… I had to get help from lots of people. Phoenix, Edgeworth, Ema, Trucy, all your fans, the Kitakis, they all helped. We got about eight million and then Daryan filled in the rest.”
Apollo doesn’t expect Klavier to start crying.
“Oh, god,” he sobs. “Thank you… how am I ever going to pay any of you back? It seems like all I do is take from people and never give anything in return.”
“None of us want anything other than for you to be home safe.”
“Apollo…” Klavier says. Apollo’s chest tightens at the way he says his name: genuine, desperate, soft. “Come here. Please.”
He holds out his non-broken arm and Apollo can’t not hug him. He’s stood at an awkward angle, bent over the hospital bed, with Klavier reaching up to put his arm around Apollo’s neck, but he stays like that for as long as Klavier needs.
“Did you say that Phoenix Wright helped?” Klavier asks.
“Yeah. He started playing poker for real life money.”
“He was gambling? Oh, god, how many ways am I going to ruin that man’s life?”
“Klavier, he doesn’t hate you. He cares about you. And he definitely doesn’t blame you. He wanted you home just as much as the rest of us did.”
Klavier pauses, chokes back a few tears, and then changes the topic. “Is Vongole okay?”
“She’s fine. Trucy’s looking after her well.”
“Oh, thank god.”
“Do you know when you’re going to be able to go home?”
“Soon, hopefully. Can I borrow your phone? I should probably let people know I’m okay.”
Apollo hands Klavier his phone and looks away when he starts typing his Twitter password.
“What are you going to say?” Apollo asks.
“Hmm. I’m not sure, actually. I want it to seem like it wasn’t as big of a deal as everyone thinks, and I’m fine. So I guess posting a selfie is out of the question then,” Klavier laughs. “I should probably speak to my manager about this first, but fuck it.”
Klavier Gavin @gavinnersklav • I’m okay! Thank you all so much for everything you did to get me home. Think I’ll need a little time to relax but I’ll be back performing shortly. Love you all!
“Back performing shortly?” Apollo says. “Shouldn’t you take at least a year off?”
“Absolutely not. I need to retrain my hands to play guitar now that I’ve lost one of my fingers.”
“I’m… I’m sorry. That was horrible.”
“You saw it?”
“I was with Daryan at the time. I’m so sorry, if only I’d–”
“It’s not your fault.”
“But–”
“You, Apollo Justice, saved my life and I will love you forever for that. Well, I would have loved you forever anyway, but thanks to you, ‘forever’ is a little bit longer now than it could have been.”
“Is this really the right time to be flirting with me?”
“What, are you saying you’re not a sucker for cheesy romantic hospital confessions? It’s like you’ve never even seen Grey’s Anatomy.”
“I haven’t seen it, actually.”
“Alright, new plan: I will take some time off to relax, but only if relaxing means watching all seventeen seasons with you.”
“There are seventeen seasons?!”
“Yep. It’s a date.”
“Hey, I never agreed to this!”
“Would you prefer I take you to dinner?”
Apollo’s eyes widen as the pieces in his brain click together. Oh. Oh. He’s being serious.
“Hold on,” Apollo says. “You’re for real?”
“Of course I am?”
“You’re actually flirting with me?”
“Have been for over a year, Forehead.”
Oh.
“You… oh my god. Oh my god. I’m an idiot. I thought you were just like that.”
“Well, I am. But it was always genuine when it was you.”
“I can’t believe this.”
“You’re really keeping me on the edge of my seat here about that date,” Klavier smirks.
“Yes. Of course! I’d love to.”
“Good.”
They’re both smiling. Apollo holds Klavier’s hand and sits by the hospital bed, feeling more secure than he has in, well, forever.
And then the door opens and Daryan walks inside.
“Oh, man, what am I interrupting here?” He says. Apollo goes bright red and lets go of Klavier’s hand, as Klavier awkwardly laughs. “Just came to see you, partner.”
“Hey, Daryan,” Klavier says.
“Think you owe me a beer or two for bailing you out, don’t you?”
“Sure. The moment I’m out of here, I have a date with Herr Forehead, and then I’ll sort out paying you back.”
“Putting your little crush before your best friend again, I see,” Daryan laughs.
“Hey, asshole,” Apollo says. “Be quiet and stop making everything about yourself. You’re not even the first guitarist.”
“Ha. Funny that you would tell anyone to be quiet, Mr. No-Volume-Control.”
“The difference between me and you, Daryan, is that I actually have things worth saying.”
“I get it, man. You’re all starry-eyed for some big cool rockstar and you don’t want me coming in spoiling your moment. Just so you know, he’ll drop you just as soon as he’s bored of you.”
“Oh, fuck off will you?”
“With pleasure.”
Daryan leaves the room and Apollo glares at the door even after it’s closed.
“Who the fuck does he think he is?” Apollo seethes. “Barging in here and–”
“I’m not going to do that,” Klavier says, quietly. “I don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Drop you when I’m bored. I mean, I won’t even get bored, but I just… he’s only saying that because I broke up with him.”
“Wait, wait, wait. First of all, I’m not going to listen to a single thing that Daryan says – I know how you feel about me now and I know how I feel about you in return, and that’s what matters. But second, and slightly weirder – you dated Daryan?”
Klavier laughs. “Yeah, when I was 20. We dated for about a year but I broke up with him because I always felt like… like I would give him everything and get nothing in return? Not like gifts or anything, but I had to beg him to give me any sort of affection. Even being in the same room as him, it felt like I was asking for too much.”
“Damn. I’m glad you broke up with him. He sucks. I never knew you were so big on PDA though, but I guess it makes sense.”
“It makes sense?”
“You just seem the type,” Apollo says, holding Klavier’s hand again and bringing it gently up to his lips. Klavier blushes, even though Apollo guesses he’s done his fair share of hand-kissing too at parties and interviews.
“You,” Klavier says. “Are the most beautiful man I have ever seen.”
When he’s told that visiting hours are over, Apollo wants to break his own arm so that he can have an excuse to stay.
“You’re looking well, Klavier,” the nurse says.
“I’m feeling well, thank you.”
“If you’re still feeling like this in the morning, you can probably be discharged. I’m assuming you’d be able to pick him up, Mr. Justice?”
“Of course.”
In the morning, Apollo gets a taxi to the hospital, where he’s told that Klavier, as hoped, is ready to leave. As he enters Klavier’s room, he sees that he’s dressed in standard-issue hospital clothes and sitting in a wheelchair, casually reading a book.
“Guten Morgen,” he says.
“Good morning, Klav. What’cha reading?”
“It’s some cheesy romance novel. I couldn’t sleep last night so one of the nurses let me borrow her book. I skipped to the end: they get together and live happily ever after.”
“Then what’s the point of reading if you know the ending already?”
“Because I want to know how they get there. I want to know all the lovely little in-betweens and almosts.”
“You should write that down,” Apollo jokes. “That’s lyric potential right there.”
They leave the hospital through the back entrance so as not to attract attention; the taxi that Apollo booked is already waiting for them, and he helps Klavier into the back seat and then gets in through the other side. Klavier gives the driver his address and asks that they take a longer route that passes through less busy streets.
As they pull up outside Klavier’s apartment complex, it’s swamped with paparazzi. They swarm the car with camera flashes, knocking on the windows and trying to get Klavier to talk; Klavier, in response, turns to Apollo – his eyes are wide with terror, and he looks like he’s about to pass out.
Apollo quickly gives his own address to the driver and asks him to drive as far as necessary to shake off the paparazzi before going there.
As they begin to drive, Apollo takes Klavier’s shaking hand.
“Hey, Klav, look at me,” he says. “It’s okay.”
“Can’t go home…” Klavier mutters, his voice strained and small.
“It’s okay. We’re going to my place until we can get some kind of security for your apartment.”
“Is that… okay?”
“Of course it is. I’ll have Trucy bring Vongole over, too.”
Klavier nods at Apollo’s words, his eyes fixated on the floor of the car. Apollo just keeps holding his hand, rubbing small circles with his thumb. When they arrive at Apollo’s apartment, he hands the taxi driver the fare and a tip, thanking him for his discretion, and then they make their way up through the underground car park.
Trucy has already dropped Vongole off by the time they get into the apartment, with a little note saying that she has to dash off to make it to her pre-magic show interview but she’s very glad that Klavier is home.
Vongole runs right up to Klavier and almost jumps on him, but she stops in her tracks and looks at him, as if she’s comprehending that he’s injured, and then she pads around in a circle and lies at his feet. Klavier bends down and gives her soft pets, and then stands back up.
“Can I, uh… borrow something to wear, please? This hospital shit is really uncomfortable.”
“Of course,” Apollo says. “I’ll go and get you something.”
He goes into his bedroom and comes back out with one of his oversized t-shirts and a pair of pyjama pants.
“Danke,” Klavier says, going into the bathroom to get changed. A moment later, Apollo hears him calling his name quietly, and he knocks on the bathroom door before opening it when Klavier tells him to.
“I can’t get my shirt off,” he says. “The stupid arm sling is in the way.”
“I’ll help you,” Apollo replies. He gently lifts Klavier’s shirt and works it around his broken arm, and… oh, fuck. Of all the times Apollo has inadvertently thought of Klavier shirtless (usually as a horrible distraction mid-trial), he never thought it would be like this; his eyes glance over the deep splatter of bruises, and he gasps – he should have expected it, if the state of Klavier’s face was anything to go by, but he stupidly didn’t foresee that he’d have hidden injuries.
“Like what you see?” Klavier jokes.
“Does it hurt?” Apollo asks.
“A little. It’s okay, though.”
“Oh, Klavier… I’m so sorry.”
He helps him into the t-shirt. It’s one of his favourite ones, some dumb gag gift from Clay that he got years back, with a badly drawn fish and large-print text reading “WTF: WHERE’S THE FISH?”.
“Danke,” Klavier says. “I can do the rest by myself.”
When he emerges from the bathroom, in Apollo’s shirt and bright pyjama pants, he puts his hand on his hip and says, “Forehead, your fashion sense is terribly lacking.”
“Shut up, they’re my comfy pyjamas. I’m going to order us some food. What do you want?”
“Sushi. Use my Uber account to order it, okay? The least I can do is buy you dinner.”
“Alright,” Apollo says. He passes the phone to Klavier and watches as he orders a ridiculous amount of food. When they get the notification that it’s arrived, Apollo goes downstairs to get it, passing Mikeko on his way, who has evidently just woken up from her nap.
He’s a little apprehensive about Mikeko meeting Vongole, but his fears are completely unfounded; he gets back up to his apartment with the bag of sushi and there she is, on the sofa, curled up next to Vongole, who is sitting in Klavier’s lap while he… cries?
“Klav, what happened?” Apollo walks over to him and holds his face.
“I’m sorry. I panicked… it was stupid, I know. I just get, uh, a bit nervous sometimes.”
“You’re fine. Anyone would be nervous in your situation.”
“Well, I’m okay now. Vongole is very good at knowing when I need some help, and your little cat is very affectionate, isn’t she?”
“Not usually, no. She must really love you.”
Apollo sits next to Klavier. Looking at him, right now, in that stupid fish t-shirt and his arm cast that he begged Apollo to sign the moment he had access to a sharpie, with a golden retriever that’s over half of Apollo’s height in his lap, and the world’s bitchiest calico cat now resting on his shoulder – he looks so human. He’s not an international rockstar on the world’s pedestal, nor is he simply a courtroom rival. He’s Klavier Gavin.
And Apollo loves that so, so much.
He plants a gentle kiss on Klavier’s temple, enjoying how he goes bright red and smiles like his whole face is softening with love.
Apollo’s phone rings, and he reassures Klavier that he’ll just be in the next room before he leaves to take the call; it’s from Ema.
“Hey,” he says.
“We fucking got him,” Ema replies.
“What? The kidnapper?”
“No, no, Daryan. We got Daryan.”
“What?”
“We figured it out! He’s been doing some really shady shit, smuggling these, like, massively illegal cocoons from Borginia. And Nick told me about the ten million – nice work on Trucy’s part by the way – so I did some digging and that’s from one of his smuggling operations. Only, get this, he backed out on his half of the deal and basically scammed the smugglers out of the money. That’s a motive for sure, right? Maybe it was the smugglers who kidnapped Klavier so they could get their revenge and their money back all in one.”
“Oh my god… holy fuck. Daryan Crescend is involved in smuggling? This is all his fault?”
“It’s certainly a possibility. Obviously we can’t nail him for the kidnapping because he didn’t actually do that, but he’s been arrested just now on the smuggling charges.”
“Ema, thank you. For real. We can get the guys who did this now that we know where to look.”
“Absolutely. How’s he doing? I saw the press photos of the taxi outside his apartment.”
“Oh, god, are they public? Do journalists have no humanity? He’s doing okay, though. We got sushi and my cat loves him.”
“God, of fucking course Mikeko is a Gavinners fan.”
Apollo laughs. “Anyway,” he says. “I’ll speak to you soon. I think this might be our first date.”
“Huh? Fucking what? You’re dating Kla–”
Apollo hangs up the phone with a smile.
– Two Months Later –
“Schatzi, I’m home!” Klavier calls as he opens the door to his apartment. They’ve been flitting between both of their homes, but for the past three weeks they’ve practically been living together. He takes Vongole off her leash and lets her run through the penthouse, following her to where Apollo is sitting on the sofa. “I brought sushi. Like our first date.”
“Klav, why are you literally the best person in the world? I’m starving.”
“Here, try this one first,” Klavier hands him a little plastic box.
Apollo opens it, but there isn’t any food inside. There’s something much, much better.
His bracelet.
“Klav…” Apollo whispers. “How did you…?”
“The guy from the pawn shop has a daughter who’s a huge fan. All it took was me paying him double what he bought it for and some stupid Hi I’m Klavier Gavin and here’s the first ever vinyl record printed of ‘13 Years Hard Time for Love’ speech.”
“No way… you gave away your first edition vinyl? But you love that thing!”
“Well, it’s a good job I love you more, isn’t it?”
Apollo slides his bracelet onto his wrist, and it feels exactly as he remembers it; weighty, cool, grounding. “I love you so much, Klavier.”
“I love you too, Apollo.”
And the bracelet doesn’t tighten at all.