Chapter Text
Klavier was never late to court cases.
Apollo shuffled through files absentmindedly, his focus on something else entirely. Even in cases where they weren’t butting heads, most of the time Klavier showed up to Apollo’s cases to watch him from the gallery. Likewise, Apollo found himself doing the same, even if he did think it was a bit ridiculous at first. Something about the whole arrangement was just comforting.
So when it was five minutes till his trial and he had yet to meet with his own client (of which Mr. Wright thought it so funny to refuse to say the name of), Apollo was reasonably worried when Klavier didn’t come through the court’s doors.
“Whatever, it’s probably traffic,” he reasoned with himself, finding his agitation growing stronger by the second, “and he’s gonna be here any minute.”
“Doing alright, Polly?” Trucy piped up from her spot on the couch, where she’d been watching Apollo pace back and forth across the floor. “You look a little anxious.”
“Just fine,” he replied, the anger seeping through his voice before he turned to her. “Sorry, I’m not mad at you. I’m just–”
“–Missing Klavier?” Trucy interrupted. A hint of smirk rested on her lips.
Apollo dragged a hand over his face, groaning. “I am not missing Klavier. I just wish my client would get here already. Isn’t it some sort of rule that you have to, like, meet the person you’re defending before going into court?”
Trucy shrugged, helpful as ever. “I think Daddy’s done that before. I’m sure you’ll be fine.” She looked off at the court doors for a second before turning her attention back to Apollo. “Hey, speaking of, you haven’t done your weird screeching thing yet. I don’t think the judge will appreciate you doing it at the bench.”
“Haven’t had the time,” he replied, deciding to take a break from pacing to sit next to Trucy on the couch. Much to his surprise, the couch was a lot more comfortable than it looked. He sank into the cushion a little, taking the weight off his feet.
“I don’t feel like I can do it. I mean, I can, but… something’s off today.” He looked over at Trucy. For whatever reason, they were both blessed (or sometimes, cursed) with the same ability to detect lies via the same hyperfocus method. “Have you ever felt that way? Kind of like that perceive stuff, but…without actually seeing anything.”
“I think that’s just called paranoia,” she teased, before changing her expression to something more akin to empathy, “but I get what you mean. I get that way with Daddy sometimes.” She looked down at her hands, thumbing the edge of her dress.
Apollo knew what she meant. He was getting better, of course, but there were some times where Mr. Wright didn’t come home to the agency until late at night. Usually it was because he was out for a walk, but sometimes he was just out looking for a job, looking for anything to help support Trucy and himself just a little bit more. It worried Trucy sick, and on the worst nights, Apollo would find himself staying the night at the office, lying about having extra paperwork to do, when he knew damn well that Trucy saw right through him just as he saw through her.
“Anyway, I don’t think you’ll have anything to worry about. I’m sure they’ll both come in at any minute. Did you try texting either of them? Or at least Klavier?”
“I don’t have my client’s number. I didn’t ask Mr. Wright for it, because he said that I didn’t need a name either apparently. I did text Klavier, though. Nothing.” He pulled out his phone and turned it on with a tap, pulling down on the notification bar as though it would suddenly make a text appear. “I know I’m probably worrying over nothing, but I just have this feeling that I can’t shake off and it won’t go away. It probably won’t until I see him in person.”
Trucy just placed her hand on Apollo’s arm sympathetically, sighing out through her nose. Even though they’d only known each other for a few months, it felt as though they were closer than most of Apollo’s friends were to him. It was just easier talking to her, even if she was his boss’s daughter.
Suddenly, the front doors of the courthouse slammed open with a bang, rattling a few of the paintings on the wall. A figure stumbled into the lobby, their whole body shaking with effort. Immediately the two on the couch were up to their feet, racing to help the person who made such a grand entrance.
It didn’t take even two seconds for Apollo to recognize who it was, though when he did, it surprised him, filling him with more questions than answers.
“Klavier?” he asked incredulously, hooking one of Klavier’s arms over his own shoulders to support him. Trucy did the same, and they led him over to the couch on the opposite side of the room.
When they got him down, Apollo took his first good look at Klavier, and it made his stomach drop. There’d never been a time in his life that he wished so badly that his intuition was wrong.
Klavier’s face was the worst of it all–the skin around his left eye was beginning to turn an alarming mixture of yellow and purple, and his right cheek looked as if he’d been crushed up against concrete. Not to mention the dark finger-like marks around his throat. His hair fell in messy curls around his shoulders, his clothing in tatters around his collar and his wrists. His knees were scraped, showing the skin underneath, and so much of his body was covered in blood. But the only thing Apollo could focus on, out of sheer shock, was the blood still leaking out of his nose.
Dumbfounded, lost in his own emotions, Apollo said, “Where’d you get that bloody nose?”
Trucy shot Apollo a glance, her face clearly stating, “What is wrong with you?” so her mouth didn’t have to. She ran off to the direction of the bathroom, presumably to get tissues.
“It’s a long story, Herr Forehead,” Klavier said, his words slurring as he spoke. Apollo almost hit him for calling him such a stupid nickname at the worst time, but he figured that wouldn’t be exactly what he needed right now. “But I promise, it’ll come to light in a matter of hours. My apologies for my tardiness.”
“Of all the things you could worry about, you being late is far from the top of the list.” Apollo’s brain finally came out of his stupor enough to actually check to see if Klavier was truly alright. “Seriously, you should have gone to the hospital, Klavier. Are you broken anywhere, does it hurt when–”
Klavier yelped as Apollo poked at one of his ribs, effectively answering his question.
“I’m fine,” he said, his shaking voice anything but reassuring as he removed Apollo’s hand by the wrist. He took in a deep breath, wincing. “I suppose nobody told you who your client was?”
“No, but that has nothing to do with–”
“It has everything to do with what happened, Apollo. I’m your client.”