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Chapter Text

Why did you kill Shadi Smith? No… Zak Gramarye!?

Kristoph’s family moved to Germany just after he turned seven. The transition was hard on the young boy, having to leave behind the friends he’d found in his classmates. His parents promised that he’d adjust, that there would be plenty of German children looking for new friends. Kristoph had no problem learning the language, he had always been a fast learner. And even if he hadn’t, many of the people in Rosenheim spoke English as well as the native language. However, Kristoph was still an outcast. Even though he was quickly learning the intricacies of the German language, his pronunciation would be off, his speech stilted and heavily accented. Kids are cruel, and readily singled Kristoph out as the badly spoken English kid.

In response, Kristoph took to not speaking at all.

One cool autumn day a year after their move, Kristoph entered his home, sliding off his shoes and leaving them by the door. “Kristoph, come here!” his mother’s elegant voice called from the den.

Kristoph, ever the obedient child, immediately heeded his mother’s call and entered the living room to find both his mother and father sitting on the couch, glowing with pride. His father had a strong hand on his mother’s knee, his mother rubbing circles into the back of his hand.

“Sit, Kristoph,” his father ordered with a smile.

Kristoph hopped up onto the lounge chair across from his parents. This was a position he often took when he was about to be scolded. However, the beaming smiles on his parents’ faces suggested that this was not the case.

“Kris, your father and I have news,” his mother said, her blue eyes sparkling with warmth. The two proud parents shared an eager glance, before turning back to their son.

His father spoke, his chest swelling with pride. “You’re going to be a big brother.”

Kristoph blinked, the news taking a minute to sink in. He wasn’t immediately sure what to think. He had been an only child his whole life, did he really want to share his loving parents? His mind drifted to the relentless mockery of his classmates, the constant overwhelming loneliness. Maybe he would finally have an ally in this wretched world.

“What do you say, Kris?” his mother asked uneasily, not able to read her son’s expression.

Kristoph broke out into a wide, toothy smile, his blue eyes meeting those of his parents. Both his parents relaxed, relieved that their son was pleased at the idea of a new child.

If Kristoph had to pick one moment in time, he would choose this one; the point where everything started to fall apart.

In the months leading up to his parents’ announcement, his mother had become fascinated with a magic troupe. “Troupe Gramarye,” she called them. She kept posters of them on the walls, often gazing at them with a sort of longing. She tried her best to get Kristoph interested in magic and showmanship. During their tour of Germany, she took him to one of their acts. It was loud and crowded, with lots of flashing lights, and booming voices over the loudspeakers.

She would lean over to Kristoph, point at one of the performers and whisper, “That’s Zak Gramarye.”

Kristoph feigned interest, but in reality he found little interest in silly acts of magic. He was attentive, he would watch and see the grandeur for what it really was: intricate misdirection and deception. Instead of enjoying the magic, he made a game of trying to figure out the tricks and how they were accomplished. He spent more time looking at the stage hands cloaked in shadow than the performers.

Afterwards, his mother led him away by the hand. “Well, what did you think Kris?” she asked expectantly.

Kristoph paused, taking his time to put his thoughts together. “I think I understand the hat trick. It plays with the audience’s depth of field,” he began.

His mother cut in. “Ah, ah, ah,” she tutted, placing a finger in front of her lips. “It’s magic,” she insisted.

Kristoph furrowed his brow, but remained silent.

That was the last time his mother took him to a show, however, she still went herself. She would leave Kristoph with the neighbors and travel to different cities, occasionally across country lines, when Troupe Gramarye was nearby. Both Kristoph and his father shook their heads, amused at her interest in the magicians. She would only be gone a for a few days out of the month, and she came back with a loving smile and a new poster to add to her collection.

Kristoph’s father left soon after Klavier’s birth, leaving his wife to raise two young boys on her own. Kristoph took the role of father upon himself, holding Klavier’s hand when he took his first steps, sitting in the sunroom, cross-legged with Klavier on his lap.

“Can you say, mother, Klavier?” Kristoph asked, an algebra textbook spread out before the two boys. Kristoph still had a responsibility to his education, after all.

“Ma,” Klavier babbled, grabbing at Kristoph’s long blonde hair.

Kristoph patted the top of the young boy’s head. “Good job.” He turned the page. “What about piano?”

Klavier continued to tug at Kristoph’s hair. “Ma.”

“No, piano,” Kristoph stressed. “It’s what you’re named after.”

“Kris!”

Kristoph laughed, low and gentle. “No, that’s my name, Piano Gavin,” he teased.

The boys’ mother was perpetually tight-lipped about why she had named Klavier as she had. “Isn’t that a silly name? It would be like if you named meSaxophone,” Kristoph argued.

In response, his mother just wore a wistful grin and stared off at the wall behind Kristoph’s shoulder. “The piano is a beautiful instrument.”

Kristoph knew at that point that there was no use in arguing further. As the months passed, he became used to similar dismissive comments from his mother. Things she would say to make it clear that they were done talking.

As Klavier grew, Kristoph became used to the feeling of being dismissed. Despite having a strange name, Klavier had a much easier time in school than Kristoph had. If anything, it made him more popular among his classmates. Klavier was outgoing and charming where Kristoph was reticent and withdrawn. It was this that made Klavier settle in better, along with his perfect, fluent German. Whenever his classmates did tease him, Klavier had natural the natural charisma and charm that allowed him to turn it into a joke, to where his classmates were now laughing with him. Kristoph would hold Klavier’s hand as they walked home from school, and every day Klavier would babble about a new friend that he’d made.

“Today Johan gave me some Weißwürste,” Klavier chirped, skipping happily. “It was really weird!”

“I thought Johan was that smelly boy that made fun of you,” Kristoph pointed out with a raised eyebrow.

“He was, but we’re best friends now!”

Kristoph shook his head at the youthfulness Klavier’s words reflected. If only it were that easy for Kristoph to make friends. Now in secondary school, Klavier was still a loner. No longer teased, as his German was much better than it was as a child and his classmates had grown out of such things, he still retained the cold stoicism that he’d learned in his childhood. He did well enough on his own, sometimes he even believed he functioned better alone. He was proud of Klavier for not falling into the same pitfalls he had, not resentful.

Upon entering their house, their mother’s voice rang out. “Klavier!” she called in excitement. “I have a surprise for you!”

Klavier, being the excitable child he was, slipped from Kristoph’s grasp and immediately raced into the den. Kristoph followed at a slower pace, coming into the living area to find a gorgeous, black baby grand piano by the window that overlooked the street. Kristoph came to an abrupt halt as Klavier climbed onto the bench with stars in his eyes.

“You’re going to start piano lessons, pup,” their mother said warmly.

Klavier’s small hands hovered over the ivory keys, hesitant to even touch them. He hopped back down from the bench and tightly wrapped his arms around his mother’s knees. “Thank you, mammi!” he said happily.

“It’s my pleasure, pup,” she cooed, smoothing back his hair. “But you have to finish your chores before you can play.”

Klavier nodded enthusiastically, already racing to clean his room so that he could start on the music lessons he’d longed for. Two sets of eyes followed the young boy, both filled with affection. Kristoph waited until he heard Klavier shut his bedroom door before looking at his mother with apprehension.

“Mother,” he began.

“Kristoph, I don’t want to hear it,” she snapped, holding up a hand, signaling him to stop.

Kristoph pressed on. “Mother we can’t afford this.” Young though he was, Kristoph had eagerly stepped up to help manage his family’s finances in his father’s absence. To him, it was a welcome challenge, and it helped ease his worries to know exactly where the family stood in terms of money. That said, Kristoph knew they did not have enough to afford such an extravagant gift.

“It is not your place to worry about such things.” She sent her son a harsh look, irritated that her own child would question her authority.

“I appear to be the only one that does worry!” Kristoph snapped.

The back of his mother’s hand connects with his cheek, making a harsh crack in the quiet house. “You will not speak to your mother like that!”

Kristoph adjusted his glasses and took a deep breath, before walking past his mother and to his own room. He had learned to bury himself in his studies when these things happened, letting the throbbing in his cheek or ribs fade away with time. Just after he finished his Latin translations, he heard a tentative first note ringing throughout the house. Kristoph paused, listening carefully as Klavier began to teach himself the art of music, starting with scales.

Despite the situation, Kristoph couldn’t help but smile fondly. However, the movement of his cheek muscles caused a flash of pain to travel up the side of his face. Kristoph touched the still swollen flesh and sighed, going back to his studies.

The next morning, Kristoph examined himself in the mirror, seeing that he had a mild bruise forming on his cheekbone, and a small cut on his upper lip from his mother’s ring. He carefully pulled out his mother’s makeup and gently painted over the blemishes on his face. When he was done he assessed himself and nodded in satisfaction.

He went to Klavier’s room and knocked. “Klavier,” he called. “It’s time to go to school.”

Then, Klavier would open the door with messy hair, still clad in pajamas decorated with little guitars. He’d yawn and rub the sleep out of his eyes while Kristoph ushered him into the bathroom to get ready. While Klavier was in the bathroom, Kristoph went to the kitchen and packed a lunchbox for Klavier. He’d meet Klavier at the door and take his hand before walking him to school, repeating the previous day all over again.

Kristoph often lied in bed at night, staring at the ceiling while his thoughts ran wild. He questioned his place in this world, where he was constantly pushed aside for his younger brother and he suffered innumerable aggressions from his own mother. What waited for him after this was over? When he was an adult with the world at his feet, where would he go? He wondered if the world even had a place for a cold, quiet boy like him.

Mostly he wondered why he kept living this life, where both school and home were two different nightmares. At any point, he could disappear and never return. He could rise from his bed, walk outside and get on the next rain out of town and not stop until he was far away. He often wondered why he didn’t do just that.

He decided that it was some sense of obligation to Klavier that kept him, along with that ever present fear of the unknown. He could leave his life here and things might be better, but it might be worse as well. He resolved that when he grew up, he wanted to help people in situations like this. People that were trapped and needed someone to help set them free. He only wished that someone would do the same for him.

During those long, silent nights, Klavier would sit before a flickering monitor and read. Mostly the news, he wanted to stay updated on current events after all. He was often greeted with tales of courtroom corruption. The name “von Karma” was one that stuck out to him. Every trial he followed, tales of self-defense, entrapment, and victims of circumstance, nearly every one ended with a guilty verdict. And Kristoph, even an ocean away, would curse at the screen. That evidence was obviously forged. That witness was horribly biased! Do these people not see? So many people unfairly sent to their deaths.

Kristoph resolved that that was the kind of person he wanted to help. He even went as far as to research American law schools. Their system was filled with corruption, and Kristoph strived to help right it. He was content with this new goal.

However, like anything in Kristoph’s life, it couldn’t be that simple.

His mother sat at the kitchen table, and Kristoph froze immediately when he walked in. She had Kristoph’s own laptop in front of him, boredly staring at the screen. “Kristoph.” She turned his laptop screen around. “What is this?” she spat.

On the screen was the homepage of one of the law schools Kristoph had been researching. Kristoph knew from experience that it was better to remain calm when his mother confronted him. “It’s a school I was looking into.”

“Hmph,” his mother huffed, obviously unsatisfied with the answer. “And you want to go there?”

“It’s one of many that I was looking into,” Kristoph hedged.

“What makes you think you should be a lawyer?” she questioned.

“I want to help people,” Kristoph answered honestly.

She snorted derisively, continuing to browse through his computer. It made Kristoph’s skin itch to see her unabashedly invading his privacy. But he remained outwardly calm, so as not to set her off. It was then he noticed the bottle of wine at her side, and realized she was in all likelihood, drunk.

“Do you know how expensive law school is?” she slurred.

Kristoph nodded. “Yes, but hopefully I might get a scholarship. And I can take out loans to cover the rest. It won’t be too much of a strain on you.” Kristoph had been forming this speech in his head for a long while, planning to deliver it when his mother was in a good mood. This was not the ideal situation for it, but he knew this would be the only chance he’d get.

“It’s not going to be a strain at all, because I am not going to pay for your silly dreams,” she laughed.

Kristoph bit the inside of his cheek, holding in a remark that she was perfectly willing to entertain Klavier’s dreams of being a musician. He knew it wouldn’t do any good to point out her obvious favoritism.

“I understand, mother,” he said with thinly contained rage. He walked to his room, leaving his laptop with her, not wanting to try and pry it from her clutches. Instead he simply locked his door and slumped down on his bed. He’d never resented Klavier more than he had that night.

Chapter Text

Kristoph spent the weeks after that fight obscuring every trace of his activities in the household. He had come to understand that his mother was wont to argue with him about any of his wishes. So Kristoph’s solution was to cover up all of his actions to the point that his mother couldn’t distinguish between what was his and what was fake. He kept any books or magazines he read under a false bottom in his desk drawer, school books resting on top. He learned how to erase his browser history, along with hiding any personal documents, but leaving a trace of academic searches instead. His room was kept perpetually neat, as if no one was living there at all. He spent a considerable amount of time lining his shelves with books he didn’t actually like, and keeping all traces of his real self tightly under lock and key. It was a means of self-preservation, after all, the only defense he really had left.

It was a dry summer night like any other when Klavier was shaken awake by his older brother.

“Kris?” he called blearily, eyes drifting towards the digital clock on his bedside table.

“Klavier, get up, there’s a fire,” Kristoph explained with an eerie air of calmness.

Klavier immediately sat up, finally taking in Kristoph’s rumpled hair and the gray ash on his clothes. “What?” Klavier exclaimed.

“The house is on fire and you need to get out.” Kristoph’s voice was stern.

Klavier glanced at the door, seeing wisps of dark smoke already clawing under the door. Klavier began to panic. Once upon a time, he’d learned about fire safety in school. He tried to remember what they’d told him then. His mind was blank, his thoughts clouded by the ever growing smoke filling his room. He coughed, watching in stupefied horror as smoke obscured his ceiling.

“Klavier get down!” Kristoph snapped, taking the boy’s arm and pulling him out of bed. “And cover your mouth,” he hastily added before turning away.

Klavier obeyed, sinking to his hands and knees and pulling his nightshirt over his nose. Through watery eyes he watched Kristoph as his eyes darted around the room. His eyes landed on the window, where a small bit of roofing slanted up to the base of Klavier’s room.

“The hallway’s no good, we’ll have to use the window,” Kristoph muttered, almost as if he were cursing.

Kristoph’s hands scrabbled at the bottom of the window, pulling upwards harshly. The window didn’t budge. Kristoph growled in the back of his throat, taking a deep breath without thinking. He inhaled smoke instead of the clear air he expected and coughed harshly. As his coughing fit died, Kristoph once again heaved at the window, his sleeves rolled up and veins bulging against pale skin as he heaved his entire body into opening the damned window.

But the house was old, and the window hadn’t been open in ages. If Kristoph were older, or stronger, the window might have yielded. Instead, it stayed firm, and closed, the glass becoming cloudy as smoke obscured his vision.

Klavier coughed again from his place on the floor. “Kristoph, it’s hot,” he said pathetically, sweat pouring down his face.

If Kristoph had been thinking more clearly, he may have stepped back and found a more rational solution. But with smoke quickly filling his vision and his younger brother’s pleading cries reaching his ears, Kristoph was thinking anything but clearly. Kristoph wasn’t thinking much of anything when he punched his hand through the window.

Immediately, smoke cleared from the room, pouring out from the now open window. The smoke having now dispersed, Klavier was able to take deeper breaths without pain. Kristoph continued to clear shards of glass from the edges of the window until the opening was big enough for the two boys to fit through.

“Klavier, come here,” Kristoph finally called, his voice hoarse.

Klavier went to his side, keeping his head down. Kristoph quickly picked the boy up, wishing that his brother was as light as he had been as an infant.

“You’re going to immediately walk down the roof and get to the ground as quickly as possible. It might be too weak to hold both of us, so once you’re safe, I’ll follow.”

Klavier’s hands bunched in Kristoph’s shirt. “I’m scared.”

Kristoph ran a comforting hand over the boy’s hair, still messy from sleep. “It’ll be alright, pup.”

“Where’s mammi?”

“She’ll be fine,” Kristoph lied.

Hearing no more complaints (and having no more time for them regardless), Kristoph helped Klavier out the window, offering a short warning to be careful of the shards of glass. Klavier quickly crawled down the roof, going as quickly as he possibly could without fear of collapse. Once he was on the ground, Kristoph followed.

Upon reaching the ground, Klavier wrapped himself tight around Kristoph’s waist, burying his face in his brother’s stomach. “Oh thank god,” he breathed.

Kristoph stayed quiet, leading the boy across the street, a safe distance from their burning home. It was only then that Klavier noticed Kristoph’s hands shaking as they rested on his shoulder. It occurred to him that Kristoph might not be as calm as he appeared. Klavier glanced at the hand on his shoulder, and-

“Kris! You’re bleeding!” Klavier shouted, gaping at the deep gash across the back of Kristoph’s hand.

Kristoph glanced down at his hand, noticing it throbbing for the first time. “Oh, I am.”

In fact, Kristoph had managed to smear blood all over the both of them. Kristoph’s shirt was ruined with it, and Klavier’s hair matted.

“It must have happened when I broke your window,” he said numbly.

“Jesus Kris, you’ll need stitches.” Klavier took off his shirt and pressed it to the wound.

All Kristoph could manage was, “That’s going to leave a scar.”

Their mother never made it out of the house. At the funeral, Klavier cried openly and without shame. Kristoph couldn’t manage to product any tears, but he kept a comforting hand on Klavier’s shoulder all the same. Klavier stood in solemn solidarity with his brother, as they watched their mother’s casket descend into the ground.

Her death and the insurance on the house left Kristoph with more than enough money to move and start law school. For Kristoph, the hardest part of the decision was breaking the news to Klavier.

“What do you mean we’re moving?” the testy pre-teen wailed.

Kristoph sighed, slightly annoyed. “I want to go to law school in America. So unless you want me to leave you behind, that means you’re coming with me.”

Klavier pouted. “But all my friends are here! And I grew up here!”

Kristoph sighed. He tried to put himself in Klavier’s shoes, having just lost his mother and his house. Surely the normal thing was to resist more change? However, Kristoph still found himself firmly planted in his shoes, which were aching to start over. He placed a comforting hand on Klavier’s shoulder regardless.

“When I was about your age, we moved from England to Germany. And I remember it was hard for me, then. But you’ll make new friends,” Kristoph assured.

“But there are law schools here in Germany, why do we have to go to America?” Klavier asked, wrinkling his nose in disdain.

“Because I can do more good in America than here.” Klavier still looked unconvinced. “Klavier, this is what I’ve wanted to do since I was a little boy. And now that I finally can, you would ask me to stay?”

A look of guilt passed over Klavier’s face. Kristoph pushed forward. “If you really want us to stay, I will,” he relented.

Klavier scuffed the ground with his feet, clearly ashamed. “No, brother, I couldn’t ask you to give up on that,” he muttered.

Kristoph was pleased with himself for having gotten Klavier to agree to the change. He placed his hand on Klavier’s shoulder. “It’ll all be okay, brother. I think you’ll love America.”

Kristoph was right in that Klavier quickly made new friends after moving to Los Angeles. In only a few months, it was as if Klavier had been born and raised in the city. Except for Klavier’s constant abuse of the German language. Kristoph was fairly certain Klavier had never had an accent thatthick. Kristoph watched as people fawned over Klavier’s accent, constantly asking him to demonstrate for them. Kristoph felt a pang of jealousy at seeing Klavier hailed for the very thing Kristoph had been outcast for. Then he would mentally smack himself for being jealous of a ten year old.

Kristoph had found an internship with a respectable law firm, and he spent most of his time there earning money in an attempt to pay for his education. Law school was expensive after all. Even with his mother’s life insurance, he didn’t want to rely on that to get through school. He’d already marked off a big chunk of it with the hopes of starting his own law firm once he graduated. In the meantime, he had to find money for rent, food, and both his and Klavier’s schooling elsewhere.

After Klavier’s first semester at school, Kristoph set aside some money to buy the boy a Christmas present. The boy had settled in nicely, and Kristoph felt obligated to reward him for that. On Christmas morning, Klavier found a new acoustic guitar sitting in the living room.

Klavier immediately turned on Kristoph with wide eyes. “Mein Gott, am I dreaming?” he asked

Kristoph chuckled. “No, Klavier. I know you want to play music again. It’s not quite an electric guitar, I know, oof!”

Kristoph had the wind knocked out of him when his gangly brother barreled into his chest, wrapping him in a tight hug. “It’s perfect!”

Kristoph had not anticipated Klavier becoming quite so clingy upon moving. One day, Kristoph came home from classes to see Klavier practicing objections in the mirror, having attempted to fashion his shorter hair in a style similar to Kristoph’s.

Kristoph watched in amusement for a few moments before clearing his throat. Klavier whirled around, his face red. “Ah, Kris! I did not expect you home so soon!” he said, obviously embarrassed.

“I can see that.” Kristoph stepped forward, eyeing how the furniture had been moved to resemble the layout of a courtroom. “What exactly is going on?”

“Ah.” Klavier began visibly sweating. “Well, I uh, decided I wanted to be a lawyer. Like you, Kris!”

Kristoph raised an eyebrow. First the hair and now his very profession? He supposed it was flattering. “What about your dream of being a rockstar?”

“I’m not going to stop that either! I can practice law and have a band on the side, ja?”

Kristoph shrugged. “I don’t see why not.” Kristoph’s eyes roamed over the mock courtroom. “You realize this layout would have you at the prosecutor’s bench,” he pointed out.

Klavier nodded emphatically. “Ja! I want to be a prosecutor, serving justice, putting criminals behind bars!”

“And I’m sure the higher paycheck has nothing to do with it.”

Klavier smiled bashfully. “Well I can’t live in squalor, ja?”

Kristoph simply rolled his eyes, chalking his brother’s antics up to a simple case of childish hero worship. It was fairly normal for younger brothers to mimic their siblings, wasn’t it? And their case was not a normal one after all, Kristoph playing the role of father and brother in one. It wasn’t until Klavier approached him with a binder overflowing with pamphlets and testimonials that Kristoph began to realize that Klavier was as serious about his dream as Kristoph had been.

“I want to go to Themis,” Klavier said with a unyielding confidence that Kristoph was unused to seeing in his flighty, lofty younger brother.

Klavier thrust a pamphlet showing a stylized depiction of the scales of justice into Kristoph’s hands. “Oh?” Kristoph murmured, taking the pamphlet and unfolding it.

It was the same pamphlet for Themis Legal Academy that Kristoph had seen on campus and at the office. It described their courses, the qualifications of their professors, and esteemed alumni.

Klavier nodded, opening his binder, which Kristoph noted was separated by colorful tabs, with sticky notes denoting important points. “I interviewed graduates from Themis and I talked to students. I even met with the teacher for the judge course, she’s wonderful by the way, and it’ll really enhance my education. The brightest legal minds of this generation all came from Themis. Having a diploma from Themis practically grants you admission to any law school in the world,” Klavier said, flipping through his notes as he spoke.

Kristoph was amused at the thought that Klavier had obviously prepared this speech in advance. After a few minutes, Kristoph held up a hand to stop. “You’ve obviously done your research,” Kristoph noted teasingly.

Klavier flushed. “Ah, ja. I may have gotten a bit carried away,” he accepted, glancing at the thick binder in his lap.

“Why all the preparation? Why would I say no?”

Klavier thumbed one of the tabs in his binder. “Well, it’s, the, ah…” He took a deep breath. “The tuition, bro. It’s… not cheap.”

Ah. Kristoph had almost forgotten about that. He’d never fully read the ads for Themis, since he was past the age and he hadn’t ever imagined that Klavier would want to go. Turning the pamphlet over in his hand and reading the rates on the back, he nearly swallowed his tongue.

“They have scholarships, though!” Klavier cut in, seeing the thinly concealed horror on Kristoph’s face.

Kristoph sighed. “You have a few years yet. When the time comes I should be nearly done with law school.”

Kristoph could see the apprehension on Klavier’s face. “I, uh. I want to go next year,” he said quietly.

Kristoph was taken aback. “Klavier, why the rush?” he asked in shock. 

“I’m already ahead in my classes due to the move, and when I spoke to Frau Courte she was very impressed and suggested I look into early admission. She thinks I have a lot of potential.”

Kristoph looked from Klavier’s pleading eyes to the numbers on the back of the pamphlet, then back to his brother. He couldn’t remember Klavier ever looking so desperate in his charmed life. Kristoph sighed. “If you work hard and get one of those scholarships, then I’ll do everything in my power to see you through,” Kristoph conceded.

Immediately Klavier took his binder and stood giving Kristoph a light peck on the cheek. “Thank you! I’ll get started right away!”

And with that, Klavier disappeared into his room, leaving Kristoph to shake his head at the ambitious boy.

Chapter Text

For the rest of that school year, Kristoph didn’t see much of Klavier. Any time that wasn’t spent working on school or playing guitar was devoted to poring over any legal texts he could get his hands on. There were many occasions where Kristoph would open his desk drawer in search of a textbook, only to find Klavier hunched over it in his room.

Kristoph crossed his arms, staring at the boy who was currently taking a highlighter to his textbook. “Is Criminal Law that fascinating to you?” he asked drily.

Klavier’s head shot up, a neon yellow cap sticking out of the corner of his mouth. “Need this?”

“Yes, some of us have papers due on Monday,” Kristoph said, holding out his hand.

“I’ll trade you for Regulation of Lawyers,” Klavier offered with a playful smirk.

Kristoph rolled his eyes and retraced his steps, getting the desired text and giving it to his book’s captor. Klavier took the new book with glee, turning to an earmarked page and going back to his studies. Kristoph watched him for a moment, noting the determined fire in his eye that burned as he studied. It was disconcerting that his younger brother, not even a teenager yet, was tackling the same material as Kristoph himself.

Remembering the he had a paper to write, Kristoph returned to his desk, resolving to study his books that much harder.

It was late May when Klavier was eagerly awaiting a letter to arrive in the mail. It was to the point that he would eagerly wait downstairs by the mailbox every day until the mailman arrived. They were on a first name basis now. Klavier kindly informed his brother that their mailman’s name was Paul, and that he had a daughter named Anna.

The apartment door burst open, hitting the opposite wall with a loud smack. “Klavier, don’t slam doors,” Kristoph called calmly.

“Kris, Kris! It’s here! It’s here!” Klavier called, voice rattling in excitement.

Kristoph stood, walking to his brother’s side and eyeing the small envelope. It looked like any other piece of mail, except that he front was embossed with the school’s emblem.
“Well open it, pup,” Kristoph encouraged.

Klavier’s hands shook as he held the letter with bated breath. “What if it’s not good? I’ve worked so hard, oh Scheiße.” Klavier was beginning to hyperventilate.

“Language, pup,” Kristoph scolded gently. “If you didn’t get in you’ll have another chance next year, and the next.”

“Ja, ja,” Klavier murmured, still holding the letter like it was made of glass.

“Would you like me to open it?” Kristoph offered.

“Bitte.” Klavier thrust the letter into Kristoph’s hands.

Kristoph wasted no time, opening the letter unceremoniously. Once he’d discarded the envelope, he unfolded the paper inside, his eyes quickly skimming over it. His expression was as unyielding as ever, and Klavier shifted on his feet, wishing not for the first time that his brother wasn’t so stoic.

“Well?” he asked after a minute.

Kristoph folded the letter, pushing his glasses up his nose. “At least you won’t have to worry about the money.” Klavier’s heart fell through the floor. “They’re giving you a full ride.”

“What?” Klavier snatched the letter from Kristoph’s hands, reading over it as tears beaded at the corner of his eyes. “You asshole!”

Despite his ire, Klavier still stood on his tip toes and simultaneously pulled Kristoph down so that he could kiss him on both cheeks. Kristoph scowled, wiping his cheek in disgust. “Ugh, you Europeans,” he grumbled.

Klavier laughed, his voice light and melodic. “Oh, danke, Kris, danke.”

Kristoph couldn’t help but crack a smile, the mood contagious. “You’re welcome. It’s my responsibility to see you through this.”

Klavier was still giddy, bouncing on his feet. “We have to get my uniform! Do you think I’ll look good in red?”

Kristoph elected not to answer. “Another day, pup.”

They had to tailor the uniform especially for Klavier, as it wasn’t meant to be worn by a child. However, it turned out he did look good in red, like he was born to wear it.

Despite being at least three years younger than his classmates, Klavier was hailed as a genius, the word prodigy was thrown around. Even Kristoph’s coworkers and classmates were talking about young Klavier, unaware that his older brother was within earshot. Comparisons were even made to the great Franziska von Karma. Kristoph was proud of his brother, of course, but even that was tinged with bitterness. Especially when Klavier started to let all the praise go to his head.

Kristoph was constantly subjected to Klavier’s long-winded talks about “the truth” and “justice.” Despite being an aspiring prosecutor, he appeared to spend most of his time with Ms. Courte, who was responsible for the judge course. Kristoph constantly nodded his head, not really listening, as Klavier prattled on about “Frau Courte this” and “Frau Courte that.”

“Kris, are you listening?” Klavier asked accusingly.

“Hm?” Kristoph question, more focused on the day’s headlines, which talked about a trial where the defendant committed suicide during the proceedings.

“You’re not!” Klavier pouted. “You’re going to be a defense attorney, didn’t you decide that because you’re interested in the truth?”

Kristoph eyed his brother. Klavier almost seemed upset at the idea that Kristoph wasn’t as passionate about the truth as he was. “I want to be a defense attorney so that I can help people,” Kristoph replied truthfully.

Klavier frowned. “But what if your client is guilty?”

“Then they wouldn’t be my client,” Kristoph scoffed.

“But you can’t know that from the start!” Klavier pressed. “Would you ‘save’ someone who was guilty?”

“Would you send an innocent person to their death?” Kristoph countered harshly.

“Of course not!”

“How would you tell a guilty man from an innocent one?” Kristoph questioned.

Klavier slammed his hands on the table. Apparently he was learning something in school. “I’d look at the evidence!”

Kristoph eyed Klavier appraisingly. He almost looked like a real lawyer. “And if the evidence was wrong?”

That gave Klavier pause, he shifted backwards, looking less in control than he had a moment ago. “You mean… forged evidence?”

He said in the same conspiratorial whisper that a child would use saying a dirty word. “Kris I would never!”

“I hope not, pup,” Kristoph murmured as he stood, gathering the dishes from their dinner.

Kristoph thought of the great prosecutors, hailed as paragons of the profession. Manfred and Franziska von Karma, completely spotless records. There was only one way to ensure that kind of perfection, and that was to cheat the system. Kristoph couldn’t understand how someone who valued the truth so much could strive to follow in their footsteps.

“Remember that during your first trial,” Kristoph warned.

Chapter Text

September of the next year, Kristoph was allowed to enter the courtroom as co-counsel on his first trial. Kristoph showed up to the courthouse in an old blue suit, carrying an empty leather briefcase. Just looking at him, you would never be able to tell that he had spent the night reading and rereading the case files.

It was a “simple” case of theft, clear cut as far as Kristoph could tell. The prosecution’s only real evidence was a shoddy witness testimony. Just reading over the transcription from the detention center, Kristoph already had an idea of how he would conduct the cross-examination to prove his client innocent.

When Kristoph walked into the defense lobby on the morning of the trial, however, his boss, Anna Turney, was anything but confident.

Catching sight of Kristoph, she approached the young law student. “Ah, Mr. Gavin. I was hoping you wouldn’t come,” the older woman said with a sigh.

Kristoph was taken aback. “Mrs. Turney?”

She looked away, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. “They changed the acting prosecutor on our case at the last minute. It’s over, Gavin.”

Kristoph just stared at her. This was the woman he’d worked under for three and a half years, and he’d never once seen her admit defeat before the verdict had been passed. He respected this woman, and to see her give up without even fighting made him reconsider the trust he’d placed in her.

“With all due respect, we can’t decide that now,” Kristoph replied sharply.

She eyed Kristoph with melancholic pity. “You don’t understand. We were supposed to be facing Neil Marshall today. Marshall is as good a prosecutor as any but he’s reasonable. At the last minute he was called away on an investigation.”

Kristoph bristled under her gaze, the apprehension in her voice telling him he wasn’t going to like what came next. “Miles Edgeworth is prosecuting in his stead.”

Kristoph clenched his fists. “That’s von Karma’s boy, isn’t it?” he asked, though he already knew the answer.

In the past year, Edgeworth had become the golden boy of the Prosecutor’s Office. Ever since his first trial almost two years ago, he’d maintained a perfect record. Anyone in the legal world knew the name “Edgeworth,” and defense attorneys had come to fear it.

Kristoph inhaled slowly. “Giving up now is playing right into his hands.”

Turney’s shoulders slumped. “I’m aware of that, Gavin,” she said harshly. “Might I remind you that I’ve been at this a lot longer than you have?” Her voice was harsh with a razor edge, laced with the unspoken command: remember your place.

“As you said, he’s von Karma’s protégé. I don’t have to tell you about von Karma’s record.”

“No ma’am,” Kristoph replied.

“Edgeworth’s only been prosecuting for a year and a half, and already he’s notorious for concealing evidence and training witnesses,” she explained, cool gray eyes bearing into Kristoph’s.

“And people respect him for it?”

“A prosecutor’s job is to get a guilty verdict at any cost.” It was like a mantra than had been drilled into her head when she was a rising attorney herself.

Kristoph eyed her, seeing the noticeable slump in her shoulders and the uneasy tremble in her hands. He did his best to stand taller for the both of them. “What’s our job then?” he asked.

“To fight tooth and nail to ensure that doesn’t happen.”

Kristoph stood at Turney’s side behind the defense’s bench, try to size up the steely prosecutor across the courtroom. There was an undeniable harshness to him, as he barely even spared the defense a glance. How many times had he stood in a courtroom just as he did now, Kristoph wondered. And how many victories had he assured before the judge even brought down his gavel? All Kristoph had in front of him were his notes from the case file, holes in the witness’s testimony underlined, tabs sticking out denoting the most important pages. Yet all that paled, in comparison to Edgeworth who had the full force of the police at his back, allowed unrestricted access to the witness, and all the pieces of evidence laid out before him. Kristoph suddenly felt woefully unprepared.

From the very start of the trial, Edgeworth had the judge in the palm of his hand. All the holes in the witness’s testimony had been filled, and as far as Kristoph could see, there wasn’t a single contradiction to hold onto.

Anna tried regardless. “Gavin, hand me the witness’s transcribed testimony,” she said under her breath.

Kristoph dutifully handed her the requested document, and with the testimony grasped in one hand, she flung her other arm out towards the witness. “Objection!” she called out. “In your testimony from the detention center yesterday you mentioned seeing a fellow security guard minutes before the theft, something that is clearly missing from today’s testimony.”

“Objection!” Edgeworth’s booming voice countered. He raised his hands with open palms, shaking his head slowly.

The corner of Kristoph’s mouth twitched in anger at the sight of that self-satisfied smirk. “We have already tracked down the security guard in question. The building records show that they left via the south entrance a full minute before the theft, which you’ll note is on the opposite side of the complex.” Edgeworth spoke the line as if he’d rehearsed it.

Kristoph dug his nails into the bench. He planned that! He left us a contradiction just so he could lead us into a trap! In the time it had taken Kristoph to process that thought, Edgeworth had managed to convince the judge that there was no reason to prolong the trial.

I have to do something!

“Objection!” a cool, British voice echoed in the courtroom.

Suddenly Kristoph found that he was the one with his arm outstretched, point towards the prosecution. Everyone, including Anna, was staring at him with mild shock, waiting to hear what he had to say. What am I objecting to?

Despite Kristoph’s own confusion, he maintained a calm and collected façade. Years of doing so at home had trained him well.

“The prosecution has obviously trained the witness!” he accused.

Silence fell in the courtroom, Kristoph keeping his stare trained on Edgeworth. What felt like an eternity passed before Edgeworth’s guttural laugh filled the courtroom. “And the defense should have trained their pets before bringing them into the courtroom.”

The trial continued towards its conclusion, Kristoph’s objection going unheard. “If there is no more testimony, then I see no reason to prolong this trial,” the Judge declared.
“The prosecution rests.” Edgeworth provided a stiff bow for the court.

Kristoph stared Anna down, willing her to come up with something. “The defense… also rests,” Anna bit out.

“Mrs. Turney!” Kristoph hissed.

“Stand down, Gavin,” she ordered.

“But.”

“Stand. Down.”

Kristoph bit his tongue, staring at his sheaf of notes. They hadn’t even been in use for an hour.

“Then by the power invested in me, the court finds the defendant guilty.” The gavel rang down, and Kristoph stalked out of the courtroom, standing as tall as ever.

Minutes later, Anna trailed out with the rest of the crowd. “Gavin,” she began.

“He wasn’t guilty,” Kristoph said icily.

Anna’s shoulders slumped. “No, he wasn’t,” she agreed. After a moment of silence she spoke again. “We did everything we could.”

“It wasn’t enough,” Kristoph countered.

Anna sighed, crossing her arms. “It rarely is.”

Chapter Text

Anna and Kristoph rode back to Turney, Free & Monie Law Offices in thick silence. Kristoph stared dejectedly at his notes, Anna having brought them to him after the trial. He had half a mind to immediately toss them in the trash, but Anna advised against it. She said it was standard practice to always keep records of any cases for a few years, and it was better for Kristoph to get into the habit now. However, the heavy weight on his lap was just a reminder of what he hadn’t been able to do.

At the office, Anna stopped him, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Take a few days off, Gavin,” she ordered.

Kristoph balked at the suggestion. “Mrs. Turney, there’s still paperwork to file and I have to arrange a meeting with a possible client…”

“Gavin.” She said his name with the authority that only came from years of experience. “Take the week off. Spend time with your brother. You’ve lived in Los Angeles for, what, three years now? Have you ever been sight-seeing?”

Kristoph took a moment before answering. “I went to the Santa Monica Pier once.”

Anna gave him an exasperated look. “You were doing field work with Scott for a case; that hardly counts. He couldn’t even get you to ride the Ferris wheel.”

“The line was too long,” Kristoph muttered.

“Get out of the office. I think you’d like Griffith Park, they have an observatory,” she suggested. “I don’t want to see you here until Monday, understood?” She raised an eyebrow, daring him to object.

“Mrs. Turney, with all due respect, I’d prefer to continue working.”

Anna sighed knowingly. “Look, Gavin. We’ve all had cases like this. It’s part of being a defense attorney.” She crossed her arms, gaining a far off look in her eyes as she stared past Kristoph at the wall. “This isn’t something they really advertise in law school, but the system is stacked against us. The Prosecutor’s Office boasts about their conviction rate and it keeps the wool over everyone’s eyes, but the truth is most prosecutors will do nearly anything to make sure the person on the stand goes to jail, regardless of the evidence. Detectives are allowed to make arrests with flimsy evidence, and trials are thrown together within days, barely enough time to get lab results back.”

Kristoph watched Anna as she spoke, the weary look in her eyes and the worn laugh lines on her face. It occurred to him that for the first time she looked like all of her forty years were weighing down on her. “We’re a well-respected law firm, and do you know what our acquittal rate is?” Kristoph shook his head. “Thirty percent. Two-thirds of our clients are declared guilty, and yet that’s something to be proud of when the conviction rate is ninety percent.”

Kristoph stood, rooted where he was in pure shock. No one had ever sat him down and told him the truth of the legal world. Anyone in law knew that convictions were high, and prosecutors were held in much higher esteem. But…

“I… I had no idea it was that bad,” Kristoph croaked, nearly speechless for one of the first times in his life.

Anna gave him a warm look. “I don’t mean to make you run for the hills.” She gestured at the elegantly decorated office around her. “We do well enough, and most attorneys worth their badges get by. And the only way things are ever going to change is if we have more defense attorneys like you to give the prosecution what’s coming to them.” Anna broke into an easy grin.

“Not very many attorneys would accuse the Miles Edgeworth to his face their first time at the bench,” she teased with a lyrical lilt to her voice.

Kristoph huffed. “I couldn’t just stay silent, now, could I?”

“And that’s why I hired you!” she laughed. “A few more years in you and maybe you can smash Edgeworth’s precious record to bits.”

After that, Kristoph took time off like Anna advised. Not that she’d given him much of a choice in the matter. For once, Kristoph was already home when Klavier walked in. Klavier stepped through the door, immediately unbuttoning his tight school uniform. He stopped with the shirt half undone when he saw Kristoph laying on the couch, reading something that wasn’t a law book for the first time in years.

“Kris, what are you doing here?” Klavier asked jovially, continuing to walk into the apartment as he shed his clothes.

“My boss ordered me to take the rest of the week off,” Kristoph said simply, turning the page of his book.

“The whole week? Mein Gott, that trial must have gone brilliantly!” Klavier called from his room behind a cracked door.

Kristoph hummed noncommittally, hearing the rustling of clothes from Klavier’s room as the boy changed into something more comfortable. Kristoph didn’t particularly feel like going into the details of the trial, or explaining to Klavier the gritty reality of the courtroom. A hot flash ran through Kristoph’s gut when he remembered Klavier’s chosen profession, and it didn’t show hints of subsiding. So Kristoph chose not to think about it.

Minutes later, Klavier walked out decked in what he’d deemed his “rocker” clothes. Tight black skinny jeans adorned with chains and a red jacket the color of his prosecutor’s uniform.

“And what’s the plan for tonight, rockstar?” Kristoph asked drily, keeping his eyes on his book.

Klavier walked around the couch to Kristoph’s side, plopping down on the coffee table. This earned a dirty look from his older brother, which Klavier met with a simply grin. “The band has a gig tonight at the Wunderbar.”

“Wonder Bar,” Kristoph corrected.

Klavier waved his hand dismissively. Kristoph continued to read, while Klavier continued to sit cross-legged on the coffee table. Out of the corner of his eye, Kristoph could see Klavier fidgeting nervously. Kristoph knew what that meant, that Klavier had some pressing request to ask of him and was waiting for the right time. Kristoph enjoyed making him wait, his squirming growing more noticeable as the seconds passed. It was the feel of Klavier’s eyes boring into Kristoph’s cheek that finally made Kristoph close his book and turn to face the younger boy.

“What is it, boy?” he asked in exasperation.

Klavier fidgeted with the unwieldy silver ring on his thumb, a size too big but Klavier refused to admit it. “I was thinking that if you’re off work for the next few days that you might…” Klavier trailed off, mumbling the rest of his request.

“Klavier, speak up, I can’t understand your mumbling,” Kristoph snapped.

“I was hoping you might come to the Wonder Bar and watch us play?” Klavier asked, twiddling his ring more quickly now.

Kristoph looked at him over his glasses. “Just because I’m off work doesn’t mean I want to spend time listening to that noise you call music,” Kristoph muttered in annoyance.

As soon as the words left his mouth, Kristoph realized how harsh they were. Internally he kicked himself. Just because he was tired and annoyed from the day’s proceedings didn’t give him the right to take it out on his little brother. Seeing the wounded look on Klavier’s face had Kristoph wishing he could take the words back.

“Ah, ja,” Klavier muttered quietly, getting up and rushing towards the door.

Kristoph recognized that walk. It was the same one he’d used that very morning walking out of the courtroom, doing his best not to show how shaken he really was. Even then, in his own home, Kristoph didn’t want to show weakness. He’d misspoke, but he didn’t want to admit that. However, seeing his brother, the eternally smug brother who wore his heart on his sleeve concealing his emotions was enough to make even Kristoph concede.

“Wait, pup,” he said with a weary sigh. “I’ll stay for at least one song,” he agreed, rising from the couch.

The sparkling eyes and unrestrained grin on Klavier’s face was enough to make the blow to Kristoph’s pride well worth it.

The brothers were the first people at the Wonder Bar besides staff, who gave Klavier a polite nod and went back to wiping down the bar in preparation for the evening crowd. Klavier immediately set to work making a makeshift stage at the back of the bar, pushing the tall bar tables out of the way. Kristoph took a seat at a table near the wall, watching as Klavier busied himself, talking conversationally with the staff and venturing into the supply closet to get microphone stands. Watching him, Kristoph almost forgot that the boy was only twelve.

The other bandmates began to arrive, walking in from the back of the bar, dragging drums and guitars and keyboards along with them. Klavier greeted them with a nod, setting up the drum set while the others brought in the rest of the equipment. Kristoph noted that two of them wore jackets similar to Klavier’s, with Themis’s crest stitched into the left breast. The other two wore jackets that mimicked the uniform of the local detective academy. Klavier strummed a few notes on a bright red electric guitar, tweaking the settings on the amp at the front of the “stage” and testing a few more notes. Kristoph wondered when he’d moved on from the cheap acoustic guitar at home.

Klavier came to visit Kristoph’s table as patrons began populating the bar. “Kris, I’m so glad you’re here,” he admitted.

“All your bandmates are fellow justice students?” Kristoph asked, drawing attention away from his presence.

“Ja, friends and classmates,” Klavier explained. “All the equipment is Mel’s. He’s our vocalist. I’m on guitar.” Klavier pointed to the guitar he’d been fiddling with earlier.

“I noticed.”

Klavier continued, either not noticing or not caring about Kristoph’s indifference. “I got really lucky. Their previous guitarist just graduated, and when they heard me, they decided to give me a shot.”

“As long as your grades don’t slip,” Kristoph warned with an ever suffering sigh.

Mel called Klavier’s named sharply. “Ja, ja, you stick in the mud. It’s show time!” Klavier gave Kristoph a small wave as he jogged over to his guitar.

The bar now had a fair number of customers, nursing drinks and eyeing the young talent at the back.

Klavier immediately aged a good five years when he picked up the microphone. “How’s everyone doing tonight?” he asked.

There were a few small cheers from the crowd in response, obviously people that recognized and liked the band for one reason or another. Kristoph wondered why the front man was letting the youngest and newest member of the band open the show.

“We’ve got a good set lined up for you tonight, so sit back and enjoy because tonight’s going to be wunderbar.” Ah, Kristoph thought, it’s probably the accent.

Klavier winked, handing the mic to Mel and dramatically turned to his guitar, his jacket billowing around him like a cape. Mel spoke with a deep, booming voice before launching into the first song. “We’re The Achilles Tendency!” 

Kristoph couldn’t help but rub a hand down his face at the wretched pun. He had to fight the urge to physically get up and walk out. He bore through it, remaining at his seat, flagging down a waitress to order a gin and tonic at the first opportunity.

The band played songs that Kristoph recognized as being from old American rock bands. It was loud and raucous and crude, and Kristoph couldn’t help but wrinkle his nose distastefully. Even so, his eyes were drawn to Klavier, whose brow was furrowed in concentration as his fingers deftly moved across the neck of the guitar. Kristoph wondered how he managed to play so accurately by memory, and even he couldn’t help but be a little impressed.

As a cover of “Welcome to the Jungle” came to an end, Mel wiped the sweat off his brow before speaking to the audience. “For our last song, we’ve got a special treat for you guys.” The conversation among patrons continued, quieting only slightly as some took notice. “For the first time we’re going to an original number, written by our very own Klavier Gavin!”

Kristoph sat up straighter, watching as Klavier removed his guitar, exchanging it with Mel for the mic. Mel gave Klavier a comforting pat on the back as Klavier took center stage. The young boy stood tense, glancing behind him at his band members and exchanging knowing nods. After a few moments of rest, the song started with a low minor chord on the guitar. Klavier kept his head downcast, foot tapping with the beats. Then his piercing eyes rose to meet the crowd as he brought the mic to his mouth.

German flowed from his lips, a soft crooning ballad filled the bar as people began to take notice of the kid with a beautiful voice. Klavier’s voice was still high, not yet roughened by puberty, but he used that to his advantage, hitting high notes with ease. Kristoph stared at his younger brother in a trance-like state. When did Klavier learn to sing, he wondered. Is this what Klavier had been doing all those nights Kristoph stayed late at the office?

Even without spotlights or pyrotechnics, Klavier was a vision in red at center stage, drawing attention like planets orbiting a star. For the first time, Kristoph noticed his younger brother had an undeniable stage presence that neither Kristoph nor their parents had held. Klavier possessed the kind of aura that filled a room, consuming anyone nearby. Kristoph wondered where he’d been when his little brother had begun to grow. Watching the young man, Kristoph couldn’t help but think that it was almost like magic.

Chapter Text

At Anna’s suggestion, Kristoph took Klavier to Griffith Park the next night. At Klavier’s behest, Kristoph parked at the south end near the Greek Theatre, taking the one and a half mile walk up to the observatory in the setting sun. It was the first time in ages that the brothers had seen each other in casual clothes. Klavier couldn’t help but snort a laugh upon seeing Kristoph in a t-shirt and jeans.

“Mein Gott, you just became five years younger!” Klavier laughed.

Kristoph lightly smacked the back of the boy’s head. “And yet I still look older than you.”

In preparation for the hike up to the observatory, Klavier had brought his schoolbag with him and filled it with two water bottles, a light dinner and small blanket. He was as excited as ever to get out of the house and explore the city he’d lived in for the past few years. The two brothers set off, basked in orange twilight, walking down a well-trodden, dusty path.

After ten minutes Klavier kicked at the dirty path beneath his feet. “It’s so dusty here,” he noted with a scowl.

Kristoph raised an eyebrow. “Your point?”

“Where’s the grass? And what are these twigs they call bushes?” He gestured at the browned foliage on either side of the trail, as if it had personally offended him.

“Remind me not to take you into Death Valley,” Kristoph said drily.

“Don’t even speak of the verdammt place. But this is supposed to be a park,” Klavier groused.

Kristoph simply ignored his brother, recognizing when Klavier was in a foul mood. Coming up on a ridge, Kristoph glanced out between the trees and stopped. “Klavier, look,” he called, pointing out into the horizon.

Klavier followed Kristoph’s gaze, coming to a halt. “Oh, wow,” Klavier said breathlessly.

On the horizon was the Los Angeles skyline, dark skyscrapers against a blazing sky. The sun had sunk, peeking out from behind the buildings, the sky colored deep orange and red as day gave way to night. For once, the hazy smog over the city had cleared enough that each building was clearly visible.

“They look so small from here,” Klavier noted. “It’s hard to imagine a whole city could seem so small.”

Kristoph glanced at Klavier’s face, itself painted a burnt orange from the fading light. “I’m sure Rosenheim would look even smaller from here.”

At the mention of his hometown, Klavier’s face fell. “Ja. Ja it would.”

After that, the two brothers continued their trek to the observatory. By the time they reached the domed building, the sun had set, giving way to an inky blue sky dotted with stars. Kristoph grabbed a star chart from the front desk before joining Klavier on the lawn at a telescope. Klavier immediately put his eye to the viewfinder.

“It certainly looks like space,” Klavier said bluntly.

Kristoph heaved a long sigh, looking to the attendant standing nearby for help. The woman laughed and adjusted the telescope herself as Klavier stood to the side pouting.

“You got here at just the right time, so we should be able to see…” She trailed off, moving the telescope minutely. “There.” She stepped away proudly.

Klavier immediately took his place again. “What am I looking at?”

“That’s Mercury.”

It took Klavier a moment. “Oh, oh!” he exclaimed, his voice bustling with excitement. “Achtung, that’s a planet!”

Kristoph pressed the back of his hand to his mouth to avoid snickering. “What’s it look like?”

“It’s kind of orange.”

Kristoph eyed the paper he’d snagged from the front desk. “If you look a bit to the south you should be able to see Saturn and Mars,” Kristoph informed Klavier.

Klavier immediately pivoted the telescope down, earning an eye roll from Kristoph. “I said south not down you twat.”

“Ach.” Klavier raised his eyes from the telescope. “Which way is south?”

After some helpful direction from the attendant, Klavier found Mars and Saturn. “Saturn actually has rings?” he exclaimed in disbelief.

Kristoph raised an eyebrow. “Yes? Were you under the impression it didn’t?”

Klavier shrugged, still peering through the telescope. “I assumed it was an exaggeration, but those rings are so clear they could be hula hoops!”

Kristoph once again had to cover his mouth. “Right here it says Saturn and Mars should be part of Libra.”

“What does Libra look like?” Klavier asked, sizing up the star formation.

“It’s a triangle with two… dangly things on the end,” Kristoph struggled to explain.

Unlike his brother, Klavier did little to hide his laughter. “How eloquent, Kris.”

Kristoph was about to make a scathing comeback when Klavier gasped. “Oh, ja! I see it! Libra, the scales of justice!” he exclaimed, practically vibrating with excitement.

When Klavier had had his fill of the cosmos, the two returned to the front entrance, unfolding their map and trying to make out the path back under yellow lamplight. Just as Kristoph was about to fold the map back up and strike out, Klavier grabbed his wrist, keeping the map in place.

“Kris, look!” The excited boy pointed at a point on the map.

Kristoph adjusted his glasses, peering down at the words above Klavier’s fingers. “Berlin Forest?”

“It’s only a few minutes that way, Kris, we have to go.” Klavier exclaimed.

Kristoph could do little to persuade Klavier otherwise, and the two set off on the broad sloping trail under the cover of night. The air had cooled significantly since the sun had set, heat no longer rising from the ground. It made the short walk even quicker, the brothers able to cover more ground without the sun bearing down on them. In a mere ten minutes, Klavier stood below a tall sign, proclaiming the dry crop of pine trees ahead to be “Berlin Forest.”

Klavier scowled. “This is nothing like Grunewald,” he said derisively.

Kristoph stood back, eyeing the dusty forest floor that led to a steep drop-off overlooking Mount Hollywood. In the forests of Germany, there would be a thick blanket of broad leaves covering the forest floor, and they would crunch underfoot. The trees would be tall and their branches would interlock to create a rustling canopy that would block out the sun. This was nothing like that, instead the only thing beneath Kristoph’s feet were brown pine needles.

“Homesick?” Kristoph asked quietly under the dry pines.

Klavier remained quiet, instead walking to the edge of the outcropping. Every step lacked the familiar feel of German forests, reminding him that this Berlin Forest was not his. He sank down onto the bench at the edge of the cliff, looking out over Los Angeles with glassy eyes. Kristoph followed, taking a seat beside his brother.

“I miss snow,” Klavier finally spoke, his voice nearly lost on the breeze. “And the cold of winter. I hated it then. But now I miss wearing gloves and thick flannel coats.

“It’s too hot here. And dry. And so verdammt big!” Here Klavier gestured at the landscape in front of them. “Here you drive five hours and you’ve gone nowhere, but in Germany we could go to Milan for the weekend. Everything is so loud, and big, and disorderly,” Klavier ranted.

Kristoph stayed quiet, letting his brother fume. Klavier’s voice grew louder with each complaint, until he was shouting into the void, his words swallowed by the dirt at his feet and the harsh black sky.

“And what is wrong with American bratwurst? How do you fuck up bratwurst? It’s sausage! Why do I have to go to a chocolatier for marzipan? Why can’t I buy marzipan at the store with the rest of the chocolate?

“I miss Käsespätzle the way mammi used to make it. I miss her voice and her stories and my room.” Klavier’s eyes shone with tears, his words becoming bogged down as the young boy fought back sobs.

“Oh, pup,” Kristoph crooned, placing a hand at the crook of Klavier’s neck and gently guiding the boy down.

Klavier yielded willingly, pliable as Kristoph’s hand coaxed him down onto his side, allowing Klavier’s head to rest in his lap. Klavier easily curled in on himself, bringing his knees to his chest. He lost the battle against his emotions, sobs wracking his body as tears flowed down the bridge of his nose. Kristoph rubbed one hand across the boy’s spine in soothing circular motions, the other carding through his short hair.

“Oh, pup,” he repeated.

“Why did we have to come here?” Klavier sobbed. “Why did mammi leave us?”

“Things happen that are out of our control. The world is not a kind place.”

Kristoph thought about his client the previous day. They were likely going to serve years in prison that they hadn’t earned, precious years stolen from them by a system unwilling to change. How many innocent people had been thrown behind bars since? And how many more would suffer? The sound of Klavier’s hoarse sobs brought Kristoph back to the present, and he looked down at the boy in his lap. The very same boy who dedicated himself to his education and his music, with the skill and intelligence of someone nearly ten years his senior. Kristoph couldn’t help the flash of ire at the thought that the “prodigy” was reduced to tears in his lap.

“She’d be so proud of you,” Kristoph assured. “You’d be her little miracle.” Kristoph knew this to be true. Their mother would have been proud of Klavier regardless of his choices, whether he’d pursued music or law. Their mother could never find fault in Klavier.

This only made Klavier sob harder. “Do you think she knows?” he asked pathetically.

Kristoph paused the movement of his hands, still on Klavier’s back and in his hair. “In the great beyond?”

Klavier nodded, and Kristoph took pause, looking off into the open expanse of sky before him. “I can’t answer that, pup.” Kristoph gave Klavier’s shoulder a squeeze. “But there’s no harm if that’s what you believe.”

Klavier continued to cry, his harsh sobs giving way to soft whimpers, eventually receding into sporadic hiccups. His eyes burned and his throat was raw, having sobbed himself dry. His chest still felt torn open, exposed and raw, but he lacked the energy to cry anymore.

When the forest was silent, no longer echoing with Klavier’s sobs, he shifted onto his back, looking up at Kristoph. “What was dad like?” he asked.

Kristoph froze, meeting Klavier’s piercing gaze. It was the first time Klavier had ever asked Kristoph about his father. Kristoph knew he used to ask their mother when he was younger, when he began to realize that most children had two parents. But their mother had always brushed it off with a vague explanation that he was no longer around and left it at that. Kristoph suspected she didn’t know herself after the man had left. Over the years, Klavier had learned to drop the topic. After moving to America, Kristoph had begun to think that Klavier had moved past the mystery, beginning to forget that his family was less than normal.

“What brought this on?” Kristoph asked, resuming his comforting motions, doing his best to conceal the barrage of emotions Klavier had reawoken.

Klavier shrugged. “Why couldn’t he take us in when mammi passed?”

Kristoph nodded. The truth of the matter was that Kristoph hadn’t bothered to look, and frankly had no interest in looking for a man he hadn’t seen in nine years. At the time, Kristoph had been eighteen, old enough to live on his own and act as Klavier’s guardian. The thought of seeking out his estranged father hadn’t even crossed his mind.

Instead of the truth, Kristoph said, “I wouldn’t even know where to begin looking.”

Klavier accepted that answer, staring pensively into the canopy of pines overhead. “What was he like?”

Kristoph bit the inside of his cheek, unsure how to answer that. “It was a long time ago,” Kristoph answered evasively.

Klavier huffed in annoyance. “You weren’t that young,” Klavier grumbled. “Was he more like you or me?”

Kristoph took a moment, thinking back to Klavier’s intense, all-encompassing presence the night before as he sang on stage. “He was just like you,” Kristoph lied.

The day Klavier was born, Kristoph and his father waited outside the master bedroom, as they could hear the groans and cries from beyond the door. Even knowing she was being watched over by a midwife, Kristoph’s father couldn’t help but pace. Kristoph watched quietly, following his father’s movements as he paced to one end of the hall and then back again. Hours passed before the midwife came out, inviting the two men into the room.

Kristoph followed his father, watching as he went to his wife’s side. The older Gavin took the newborn from his wife’s waiting arms, eyeing the child with something akin to apprehension. He held the baby away from his body as the child whimpered. The baby blindly opened and closed his fists, grasping a fistful of blonde hair reminiscent of his mother’s.

After staring at young Klavier, he passed the baby to Kristoph, instructing the boy to take Klavier to his crib. Kristoph did as instructed, taking the small baby swaddled in blue to the room next to his own designated as the nursery. The room was painted a powder blue, with a dark wood crib. Kristoph had to stand on his toes to comfortably set the baby down on the plush sheets. He marveled at his younger brother, taking the soft blue blanket and covering up the baby’s chest.

In the other room, Kristoph could hear the muffled shouts of his parents. He couldn’t hear the words being spoken, he could only feel the anger seeping through the walls of the house. Kristoph knew better than to interrupt. So instead, he closed the door to the nursery, drowning out the angry shouts and sat with the crib at his back, knees tucked up to his chest. It certainly wasn’t the first time he’d hid from his parents during one of their fights.

Hours passed, and his parents were still arguing, seeming to have forgotten about the two young boys across the hall. Kristoph began to hear whimpers coming from the baby in the crib. It occurred to him that his little brother may not have been fed before being handed to Kristoph. And even if he had, it had been far too long since then.

“Shhhh, don’t cry, little brother,” Kristoph hushed, gently rocking the crib and trying to soothe the hungry babe.

Kristoph had no means of providing the child food, but he wasn’t about to walk in on his parents. At the gentle rocking motions, the baby’s whimpers quieted, if only slightly. But after a few minutes they returned, hunger too potent to ignore. The baby began to wail, but it seemed to fall on deaf ears, as neither parent came running.

“It’s okay,” Kristoph said, unsure if that was the truth. “Just a little longer.”

He kept repeating those words “just a little longer.” Eventually the baby became to weary to cry, and fell into an uneasy sleep, aided by Kristoph rocking him. Kristoph hummed the refrain of an old lullaby, unsure of the words. Eventually, with the baby asleep and his parents still fighting, Kristoph slumped against the crib, falling into an uneasy sleep.

When his mother came into the nursery in the early morning, Kristoph’s father was already gone.

Chapter Text

The winter before Klavier graduated from Themis, Klavier and Kristoph were eating dinner together, when Klavier set down his fork and watched Kristoph. Klavier’s piercing gaze commanded attention. When he had Kristoph’s, he took a deep, shuddering breath, similar to when he had asked to go to Themis.

“I’ve decided I’m going to law school in Germany,” Klavier announced.

Kristoph blinked in surprise, shocked by such a bold statement. “When did you decide this?” he asked flatly, returning to his meal.

“I’m deciding it now,” Klavier said with confidence. “I researched it and I want to go to Bucerius in Hamburg.”

Kristoph stayed silent, more focused on cutting his tilapia than Klavier’s words, or so it would seem. Klavier continued.

“I’ve thought about it for a long time, over a year. I’ve always wanted to go back home, and if there was ever a time, this is it.”

“This isn’t your home?” Kristoph asked, an edge of bitterness to his voice as he looked back up at this brother.

Klavier had a look of unyielding calm on his face, the expression someone wore when they were absolutely certain in themselves. “My home is in Germany, Kris,” Klavier said sadly.

Whenever the boy mentioned Germany, he bore a wistful, nostalgic look in his eyes. It was as if he was seeing something that wasn’t really there. It made Kristoph’s blood heat up, all Germany had been for him was a prison, one he had finally escaped from. And his little brother would go back? Call the place home, even?

“You would be alone,” Kristoph said, and for a moment he was unsure whether he was speaking to Klavier or himself.

Despite his misgivings towards Klavier, Kristoph had taken care of his brother his whole life. Even before their mother died, Kristoph had filled the role of both father and brother. He’d made Klavier meals, taught him how to tie his shoes, and let the boy into his bed after a nightmare. Regardless of how he felt about the boy, Kristoph couldn’t imagine his life without him.

“I know, Kris,” Klavier said, his voice seeming calm, but his fidgeting hands making it clear that he was anything but. “I let you follow your dream to come to school here, so give me the same freedom to follow mine.”

Kristoph set his utensils down, and folded his hands in front of him with a measured coldness, levelling Klavier with a piercing stare. To Kristoph’s chagrin, Klavier neither withered nor faltered under his gaze. Instead he met it with eyes that mirrored Kristoph’s own.

“You did not let me do anything, boy,” Kristoph said pointedly. “I took you in when I didn’t have to. Would you prefer I left you in the hands of the state?”

Kristoph could see the tremor of guilt run through Klavier’s body. Seeing the prodigy of the legal world quiver at his own words sent an elated trill through Kristoph. Even if Klavier got lost in praise and recognition, it was Kristoph’s duty to keep him grounded. Kristoph was bound to remind Klavier that he was, and would always be his little brother.

“Nein,” Klavier said, eyes flickering to the side.

For a moment, Kristoph thought the conversation over, pleased with the outcome. Then Klavier met his gaze again with renewed resolve.

“That’s why I want to study abroad, Kris. You’ve done everything in your power so that I could have a good life, and you’ve been at my side my whole life.” Here Klavier to a deep breath. “So now I want to experience life on my own, learn to be independent, and… figure out who I am, without you.” Klavier spoke the last bit quietly, his voice barely a whisper.

But Kristoph heard it, as clearly as if it had been shouted, and it stung all the same. Kristoph felt his brow twitching, and knew that every muscle in his body was taught with anger. Kristoph just breathed, letting Klavier’s words hang in the air as Kristoph collected himself.

Pushing his glasses up his nose, Kristoph spoke wryly. “I’ll think about it,” he relented.

At that, Klavier’s brow creased with determination. “Kris, I am not asking.”

Kristoph paused, raising an eyebrow to encourage Klavier to continue. “I am going to apply, and if I get accepted, I am going.

“I am not asking for permission, but I would greatly appreciate your support,” Klavier said wisely, looking and sounding a great deal older than his thirteen years.

It made Kristoph sick.

“I see,” was all Kristoph could manage, voice dripping with malice.

Kristoph pushed his chair back from the dining table with an unholy screech. Then he wordlessly stood, walked to his room, and shut the door with a loud slam. Klavier jolted in his seat, before continuing to pick at his food. Since talking with Kristoph, his meal had gone cold, and eventually he collected the plates and washed them in the sink, uneaten. He waited at the table then, hoping Kristoph would calm down and come out of his room to finish talking. As the night wore on, it became painfully clear that Kristoph would do no such thing.

The next morning, an awkward silence fell throughout the apartment. Klavier didn’t know how to broach the topic, while Kristoph was perfectly content pretending it hadn’t happened. Eventually Kristoph broke the silence to ask Klavier about breakfast, and life went on. Both men continued to ignore the elephant in the room.

The months leading up to Klavier’s graduation, he was often missing from their apartment. He put in many late hours at Themis, having Ms. Courte read and reread his admissions essay and help him write his Curriculum Vitae. All of this was on top of the work he was already doing for both school and his band. As such, Kristoph often ate dinner alone, Klavier eventually wandering through the door long after dark. Even so, Kristoph made sure to leave some food out for him, and make sure he was up every morning for school. While the two still hadn’t discussed Klavier’s admission to Bucerius, Kristoph tried to be subtly supportive in his own way. Even if he still didn’t want Klavier to go.

It was in May the Klavier knocked quietly on Kristoph’s bedroom door. “Come in!” he called, books open as he prepared for his final on Constitutional Law.

Klavier stepped in with trepidation, holding a crisp white envelope in his hand. “I got in,” he said weakly.

Kristoph put his pen down at those words, his heart hammering in his chest. He gave Klavier his full attention. “What?”

Kristoph held out the letter, signed by the Dean of Admissions. Kristoph took it carefully, reading over it quickly. He remembered when Klavier had been admitted to Themis, too nervous to even read the letter himself. Now here he was, having prepared for this for months, years even. He no longer needed Kristoph to open his letters for him.

Klavier spoke, still quiet and tentative. “I know you don’t want me to go, Kris, but…”

“Hush,” Kristoph spoke calmly, and Klavier obeyed.

Kristoph stood, setting the letter down on his desk. He walked around to stand in front of Klavier in just a few quick steps. Kristoph was still taller and broader, though Klavier was still growing. Klavier was apprehensive before his brother, Kristoph’s face giving no indication of what he was feeling. After a minute, too long in Klavier’s opinion, Kristoph broke into a warm smile. His soft hands came up to rest against Klavier’s cheeks, cupping the boy’s face in his palms. Klavier’s eyes shimmered, immediately overflowing with tears at the warm touch. Tears ran down his cheeks, collecting on Kristoph’s fingers.

“I’m so proud of you, pup,” Kristoph murmured.

“Oh, Kris. They get so many applicants and they picked me, me!” Klavier cried, smile as bright and blinding as ever.

“I know. Maybe you really are the genius everyone says you are.” There was a hint of bitterness clinging to Kristoph’s words, but in his elation, Klavier missed it.

He laughed heartily. “Ja, maybe.”

The next months were spent preparing for Klavier’s move, find housing, deciding what he was taking with him and what was being thrown out. Klavier took much of the work upon himself, making calls and finding airplane tickets. Kristoph could never stop wondering just when his little brother had grown into himself.

The day Klavier was set to leave, Kristoph walked him up to security. Klavier wore dark sunglasses over his eyes, Kristoph suspected it was to better hide his emotions.

“This is as far as I go,” Kristoph said as they approached the line.

He handed the bag in his hands off to Klavier, who shouldered it wordlessly. He stared up at Kristoph from behind dark glasses, swallowing heavily. Kristoph could see tears peeking out from beneath Klavier’s shades.

“Do you have your passport?” Kristoph asked, trying to fill the silence.

Klavier nodded, pulling it out from his back pocket. “Plane ticket?” Klavier opened his passport to show where it was stashed between the pages.

Kristoph nodded, pleased that Klavier seemed as prepared as ever. The two brothers stood there in silence, neither wanting to leave just yet. In a fit of emotion, Klavier dropped his bags and wrapped his arms snugly around Kristoph’s middle, burying his face in Kristoph’s chest.

“Danke schön, Kris, for everything you’ve done. I never could have made it this far without you.” Klavier’s voice was thick and wet with tears.

Kristoph stroked through his brother’s hair with long fingers. “Bitte schön,” he replied, and the familiar phrase only served to make Klavier cry harder. “You’re going to do great things, pup. Just don’t forget about your older brother.”

Klavier reluctantly broke the embrace, bending down to take his bags. As he approached the line for security, he turned and waved back at his brother. “Bis bald!” he called, putting on a brave face.

Kristoph just waved back with a small smile. The first time he’d walked Klavier to school, the boy had clung to his legs, begging Kristoph not to leave. Eventually the teacher had had to gently pull Klavier off his brother so that Kristoph could get to his own school. Later that day, when Kristoph picked the boy up, he had a beautiful smile on his face. Every day after that, Klavier had said the same goodbye when Kristoph dropped him off. Bis bald, see you soon.

Kristoph watched as Klavier walked away, off to a new school and a new life. One without Kristoph in it. Kristoph had the unshakeable feeling that it would be a long, long time before he saw his little brother again. Eventually Klavier disappeared around a corner, and Kristoph couldn’t help the sinking feeling in his chest. He entertained the idea that Klavier would run back around the corner, realizing that going off on his own to another country was ridiculous. But Klavier was nothing if not determined.

Kristoph returned home, the apartment that once felt like a fresh start now feeling cold and empty. It was unbearably quiet, and for the first time, Kristoph realized he was alone. He walked into Klavier’s room, or rather, his old room, and stared at the barren walls and empty closet. It occurred to Kristoph that he wasn’t entirely sure who he was without Klavier.

Chapter Text

Anna and Kristoph had gone out to lunch as they often did in the middle of the work week. Kristoph was picking idly at his Caesar salad as he read the day’s paper. Anna watched him thoughtfully, stirring sugar into her tea while she surveyed her apprentice. Kristoph was soon to finally get his law degree in the spring, and he planned to take the bar that May. Anna had full confidence that he’d pass, and the thought was colored bittersweet. She knew Kristoph planned to open his own firm, and she would miss her apprentice greatly. She wasn’t sure she could find someone to replace Kristoph, having worked with him for nearly six years.

“You’re unusually quiet today,” she pointed out, propping her elbow up on the table and rest her chin in her palm.

“It’s my English charm,” Kristoph replied drily, continuing to skim over the paper.

Anna hadn’t gone to law school for nothing, and she gave him a knowing look. “Gavin, please. You’ve been out of sorts ever since Klavier left for school.”

Her observation caused Kristoph to bit his tongue, swallowing a curse before it could leave his mouth. Even despite his best efforts, Anna always managed to ferret him out. She was a brilliant attorney, and had faced much stonier witnesses on the stand than Kristoph. Kristoph sighed in annoyance, folding his paper and setting it down on the table.

“Anna, I’d appreciate it if we left my personal life out of this,” Kristoph said flatly.

Anna waved her hand dismissively. “Sure, and how many inter-office squabbles have you had to listen to between Scott, Alissa and I?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.

Kristoph sighed. “Far too many. You all behave like schoolchildren.”

Anna laughed heartily. “So please, indulge me.” Anna leveled Kristoph with that warm gaze of hers. “Do you miss him?”

Kristoph bristled at the suggestion, letting out a huff. “I doubt I’d go that far.”

Anna laughed again. “Said like any big brother.”

Kristoph rolled his eyes. “I suppose it’s strange without Klavier around. It’s empty and quiet, which isn’t something I’m used to,” Kristoph admitted.

“You could always put an ad in the paper, find some roommates,” Anna suggested, sipping her tea.

Kristoph wrinkled his nose in disgust. “And live with someone who doesn’t bathe or clean the dishes? No thank you,” Kristoph spat.

“Then you could move into a smaller apartment. Maybe you won’t feel so lonely without all that empty space,” Anna said, proposing a new solution.

“I never said I was lonely,” Kristoph said pointedly. “I’m enjoying having time to myself again. And not having to listen to his damned rock music, or that horrific accent, ugh.”

“But you still miss him?”

Kristoph paused. “I suppose over the past fourteen years his presence has grown on me,” Kristoph conceded.

Anna brought a hand to her mouth, shielding her quiet laughter. Kristoph’s measured glare informed her that she did a poor job of it. She cleared her throat, trying to school her face into a neutral expression. Once she’d done that, she spoke again.

“Have you talked to him since he left?”

Kristoph shook his head. “No, other than quick emails. He wants to try this Skype thing. He’s trying to set up a time when we can talk weekly. Time zones and all that,” Kristoph explained.

Anna nodded in understanding. “That’s right, what time is it there?”

“They’re nine hours ahead, so,” Kristoph glanced at his watch. “It’s 9:30 at night there now.”

“Klavier’s bedtime?” Anna asked with a smirk.

Kristoph laughed wryly. “Oh please, that boy might as well be nocturnal. Even when he was a baby I couldn’t get him to sleep. He’d stay up all night, and eventually I’d settle down, and when I woke up, he’d still be awake in the same spot I left him,” Kristoph laughed. Near the end of the anecdote, Kristoph’s voice grew quiet with melancholy.

Anna nodded with interest. “You raised him?”

“Somewhat. Until I was eighteen our mother was present, but even then I was often responsible for taking care of him,” Kristoph explained.

“Then it’s completely normal that you’d miss him. He’s practically your son,” Anna teased, gently nudging him under the table with her foot.

Kristoph rolled his eyes, choosing to ignore that last comment. Klavier was his brother, regardless of the circumstances. But Anna did raise a fair point. Kristoph had put a lot of time and energy into making sure Klavier was taken care of. It was expected that Kristoph would have trouble adjusting to life without him, right? Kristoph wondered if Klavier was having the same troubles in Germany, a constant twitch in his bones that something was fundamentally wrong. Secretly, Kristoph hoped he did.

“Did you hear the news?” Anna asked, changing the subject.

“What news?” Kristoph asked, holding back a sigh of relief.

“About the Edgeworth boy,” Anna explained.

Kristoph rolled his eyes. “I haven’t been living under a rock.”

It was all any legal journal could talk about the past few weeks. “Demon Prosecutor Defeated by Rookie Attorney,” read the headlines. It was impossible to be involved in the legal system and to not have heard the tale of Miles Edgeworth’s first defeat. Some defense attorneys hailed it as a sign of the changing times, while prosecutors dismissed it as beginner’s luck. Regardless, everyone had their eyes on the defense attorney responsible, Phoenix Wright.

“It’s a real tragedy. Mia was a good friend, and an even better lawyer,” Anna said wistfully. “Even if it is therapeutic to see Edgeworth knocked down a peg.”

Most papers had been more focused on the details of the trial, and how Mr. Wright managed to shock Edgeworth enough to wrestle a Not Guilty out of the judge. The papers didn’t focus much on the details of the trial, though Kristoph recognized Mia as the name of the victim.

“Mia… Fey was it?” Anna nodded. “You knew her?”

Anna smiled with a pained look in her eye. “Any decent defense attorney in Los Angeles knew Mia.” Anna turned her head to stare out the window, and Kristoph got the feeling she was seeing something else entirely. “She represented the best of us. I wish you could’ve seen her in court, there was really nothing like it. Now that I think about it…” 

Anna turned back to look at Kristoph, sizing him up. “Your first objection in that trial a few years ago?” Kristoph nodded, showing he remembered. “That was something Mia would have done. She always fought for her clients to the bitter end. She believed in them no matter what.”

Anna took a moment, wiping at the corner of her eyes where tears were threatening to spill. “Anna…” Kristoph murmured, never having seen his boss like this.

Anna barked out a laugh. “Oh look at me. I’m getting old, all my friends are dead,” she said it with humor in her voice, but Kristoph could tell there was real pain behind it.

Anna collected herself. “If she taught that Phoenix Wright guy anything, he’s going to be someone special.”

Kristoph had his suspicions that Anna had talked to her colleagues about him. After that lunch together, both Scott and Alissa had been more careful around him. They gave him knowing looks and lightened his workload. It was infuriating. But Kristoph knew they were trying to be kind and give him space. But it wasn’t like Klavier had died, and Kristoph was a grown man.

Kristoph was in the middle of updating their filing system when Scott strode to the front door, slipping into his overcoat. “I’m off to do some field work for a case. I have to interview a witness,” he explained.

Normally Scott would ask Kristoph to come with him, giving him his briefcase with the Court Record. It was Kristoph’s duty to keep track of the evidence, and sort through it when Scott needed. Instead, Scott was heading off on his own, and Kristoph didn’t doubt it was because he didn’t want to overburden the apprentice.

Kristoph stood. “Mr. Free, wait,” he called, grabbing his own coat. “Let me come with you.”

Scott turned around, eyeing Kristoph appraisingly. “Sure you’re up for it, kid?” he asked.

Kristoph rolled his eyes. “Please, I’ve been doing this for years. You and your colleagues have kept me holed up in this office all week. I would appreciate the opportunity to do some actual work,” Kristoph said with an edge to his voice.

It wasn’t lost on Scott, who simply clapped the younger man on the shoulder. “Good. I wasn’t sure how I was gonna interrogate the witness without you, kid.”

Scott immediately handed his briefcase over to Kristoph, and the two loaded into Scott’s car. Some things never change, Kristoph thought. He and Scott had done field work together an innumerable number of times, to the point that detectives on the force recognized Kristoph as Scott’s apprentice. Scott took the ramp onto the Hollywood Freeway under cloudy skies, rain pattering against the little car.
“Probably should have mentioned our witness is in Santa Barabara,” Scott muttered. “So get comfortable.”

Kristoph nodded, sitting back in the passenger seat and gazing out the window, watching as downtown LA whizzed by.

“Excited to be done with law school?” Scott asked after a few minutes of silence.

Kristoph nodded slowly. “Yes. It’s about time, if you ask me,” he murmured.

Scott nodded, keeping his eyes on the road. “Feels like it’s been forever since you started working for us.”

“It was five years in August.”

Scott let out a low whistle. “Damn, kid. Things like that make me feel old.” Scott gained a thoughtful look on his face. “Though I guess you’re not much of a kid anymore.”

Kristoph shook his head. “I was eighteen when I started working for you. I was hardly a kid then either.”

Scott leaned over to elbow him gently. “Practically a baby compared to the rest of us. And here you are, about to go off on your own into the legal world.” Scott was smiling with one side of his mouth. “Anna says you’re planning to start your own firm?”

“Yes. I’ve had money saved up since I moved to LA,” Kristoph said.

“Bold move. It’s gonna be sad to see you go. Who else is going to get my coffee in the morning?” Scott sighed.

“You can always hire another poor, unsuspecting law student,” Kristoph pointed out.

“Maybe, maybe,” Scott murmured. “Still, five years. End of an era.”

Scott chanced a glance over at Kristoph, sitting straight in his seat. “When you win your first big case, I’m gonna be in the gallery goin’ that’s my boy.”

Kristoph cleared his throat awkwardly. “What about this case we’re on?” he asked, trying to change the subject.

Scott laughed, seeing Kristoph’s act for what it was. But he let it slide, deciding to let Kristoph hold onto his dignity for now.

“The owner of some classy art auction house was murdered a few days ago. Our client bought a piece from him recently,” Scott explained.

“Motive?”

“Turns out the piece was a fake. Our client had it examined and when the results came back he went to have words with the victim.”

Kristoph sighed heavily. “Don’t tell me; this was on the day the victim was murdered?”

Scott chuckled. “You’re getting good at this.”

Kristoph shook his head. “Just our luck,” he sighed. “So where are we going?”

“We’re going to talk with the art broker that gave the victim the piece. He can tell us where he got the piece, give us a lead,” Scott said.

“So what you’re saying is we don’t currently have any leads?”

“That’s one way to look at it,” Scott admitted.

“There’s another way?” Kristoph said bitingly.

“We’re full exploring the investigative process.”

Nearly an hour later, Scott pulled up to an adobe style, stonework house on a rise overlooking downtown Santa Barbara and the Pacific Ocean. Scott stepped out of the car, eyebrows raised as he surveyed the extravagant property in front of them.

“I’m pretty sure this house is worth more than I am,” he said quietly to Kristoph.

“Probably the both of us combined,” Kristoph added, standing next to his boss.

Scott straightened up. “Well, no time to gawk, we have a witness to interrogate,” Scott said loudly, collecting himself before striding up to the front door with renewed confidence.

Kristoph followed, less intimidated by the lavish estate than his employer. Having such an extravagant estate in the Riviera was more for show than anything else. Kristoph briefly wondered how large an estate in Germany someone could have purchased for the amount of money this house cost.

Kristoph and Scott stood side by side on the porch, shielding themselves from the rain. Scott rang the doorbell, and the two men could hear bell tones ring throughout the house. A minute passed before Scott rang again, clearly irritated at being made to wait out in the rain.

Finally, the door opened, revealing a fit, tanned man in his thirties, clad in a bathrobe and hair still dripping wet. Scott was taken aback, not having expected someone to answer the door unclothed. Kristoph stepped in for him.

“We’re from Turney, Free & Monie Law Offices. We’re here to talk to you about the murder of Artie Saller,” Kristoph explained.

“Oh right!” The man flashed the two lawyers a winning smile and opened the door fully, inviting them in.

Kristoph and Scott stepped over the threshold, eager to be out of the rain. “Let me take your coats,” the man offered, already beginning to help take Scott’s coat off his shoulders.

After hanging their coats in his closet, the man returned, offering the attorneys a hand. Kristoph took it, sharing a firm shake with him. Soft, unworked. Painful grip, Kristoph thought. He was beginning to see a pattern emerge in the way this man was dealing with them.

“Ford Germaine,” the man, Ford, offered. “I’m sorry, I forgot you were coming today.”

Scott seemed to have collected himself at this point. “I’m Scott Free and this is Kristoph Gavin, attorneys at law. It’s no trouble, do you mind if we ask you a few questions?”

Kristoph glanced questioningly at Scott, before returning his eyes to Ford, repeating to himself that they were here to question him. “It’s not trouble at all!” Ford assured. “Let me just get changed, take a seat!” Ford gestured at the plush living room around the corner.

As Ford disappeared up the stairs, likely to his bedroom, Kristoph and Scott stepped into the living room. Kristoph eyed the room with scrutiny, wrinkling his nose. It was likely meant to be elegant, exuding the feeling of money and power. Instead, to Kristoph, it just appeared garish and flamboyant. There was a large painting hung above the marble fireplace, depicting a large military battle, featured in the middle was figure in blue and gold, wielding a sword and perched on a rearing, dappled horse.

Kristoph gingerly stepped over the bear skin rug on the floor to get closer. He narrowed his eyes at the painting. “Likely painted in the 17th century, romantic in nature, likely a French painting of the Napoleonic Wars,” Kristoph murmured.

Scott barked out a laugh from his place at the other side of the room, eyeing a ceramic amphora with black geometric patterns on its face. “Those art classes actually teach you something?” he teased.

Kristoph bristled. “It’s not my fault that you’re a barbarian who couldn’t tell a Monet from a Géricault,” he snapped.

Scott shook his head, muttering something under his breath about Europeans. “What’s your take on this guy?” he asked.

Kristoph glanced around the room. “I think he needs someone to save him from his horrible interior design,” Kristoph muttered.

Scott snorted. “What’s this about anyways?” He gestured at the room around them.

“It’s his trophy room,” Kristoph said, turning away from the painting to face Scott. “It’s where he keeps all of his most precious pieces on display to intimidate people.”

Scott nodded thoughtfully. “People like us,” he murmured. “Is it working?”

“No,” Kristoph spat drily, earning another laugh from Scott. “Everything he’s done so far has been a ridiculous display of power. Showing up in his bathrobe, ‘forgetting’ we were coming, leaving us alone in his trophy room. He might as well have peed all over the floor in a display of dominance before we got here.”

Scott put his fist to his mouth, choking back a laugh. “You’re smart kid. You’ve certainly learned how to investigate.”

Kristoph was quiet for a moment, gazing into the flames crackling in the fireplace. “You introduced me as an ‘attorney at law’,” Kristoph finally said.

Behind Kristoph’s back, Scott shrugged. “You’re close enough aren’t you?”

“Maybe, but you usually introduce me as your assistant,” Kristoph pointed out.

“Well for one, this guy’s got ‘rat’ written all over him, and hopefully thinking he’s got two attorneys on his ass will shake him,” Scott explained. “And two, I think you’ve earned a new title at this point.”

Kristoph smiled slightly. “Thanks.”

The rest of their conversation was cut short by the sound of Ford walking down the steps. “Would you like anything to drink?” he called.

Scott and Kristoph shared a glance. “Never accept a drink from a witness,” Scott advised Kristoph before answering. “No thanks.”

Kristoph gave Scott a questioning look. “Is there a story behind that?” he hissed under his breath.

Scott waved his hand dismissively. “I’ll tell you later.”

Hearing Ford making his way to the room, Scott and Kristoph took a seat on the leather couch. Kristoph immediately sank into the cushions, flailing a bit before regaining his footing. Scott sighed, leaning back against the backrest.

“Hot damn, I’d kill to have a couch like this,” he whispered.

Ford appeared in the doorway, holding a bottle of brandy in one hand and a small glass in the other. He took a seat in the wing-backed chair across from the attorneys, making a show of pouring himself a glass. Kristoph wasn’t familiar, but he imagined the brandy was likely top of the line.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Ford said, his cheery voice suggesting that he wasn’t actually sorry at all. “What can I do for you?”

Scott sat forward, forearms resting on his knees. “Were you aware that the painting you gave to Mr. Saller was a fake?” Scott asked.

Ford wrinkled his nose, taking a measured sip of his brandy. “I’ll forgive the insult, but I assure you, the painting I gave to Artie was genuine.” He sighed, shaking his head. “Unfortunately, art forgery is all too common. It’s likely Artie had a fake made and kept the original for himself.”

At that Kristoph opened Scott’s briefcase and flipped open the Court Record. He found the statement he was looking for and showed it to Ford. “Here’s a statement from the police, no evidence of the original painting was found in any of Mr. Saller’s properties.”

Ford laughed wryly. “Well of course he wouldn’t keep it in his home. He probably kept it in a storage unit in another state under a different name.”

Scott raised an eyebrow. “You seem to know a lot about art forgery, Mr. Germaine.”

Ford scoffed. “Oh please, I’m an art broker. It’s my job.”

Scott nodded, seeming to accept that answer. “Can you give us the name and address of the artist, then?” Scott asked.

“Of course,” Ford said, once again flashing them his pearly whites.

He grabbed a pen and notepad off the bookshelf lining the wall, hastily scrawling an address before ripping it off and handing it to Scott. “Gil Tiedeman, he works out of a studio in the slums of downtown Santa Barbara.”

Scott tipped his head in thanks, before getting up. “Looks like that’s our next stop, then,” he said, gesturing for Kristoph to follow him.

Kristoph got up, his eyes drawn to that same painting over the fireplace. “That’s a nice painting,” he said, gesturing towards the large canvas.

Ford’s chest puffed out. “Yes, it’s an original, imported from Germany,” he explained.

Kristoph nodded vacantly, grabbing his coat and following Scott out to the porch. Scott shook his head disdainfully.

“I can’t believe this rat made us drive all the way out here to get a name and address,” he groused.

Kristoph nodded in agreement. “For what it’s worth, we would’ve had to drive here anyway to see the artist.”

“Yeah, but we would’ve saved a lot of time if the guy had just given it to us over the phone.”

Kristoph simply shrugged. “Artists.”

“Artists,” Scott agreed ruefully.

As Scott started towards the car, Kristoph patted at his pockets. “I think I left my wallet inside,” he said.

Scott turned to look at him, eyebrow raised. “You go warm up the car, I’ll be right back.” Kristoph waved him on.

Scott eyed him, but nodded as Kristoph turned to go back inside. Kristoph immediately strode back into the gaudy living room, where Ford still sat, sipping his brandy.

Kristoph pointed at the painting over the mantle. “That is not an original,” he said harshly.

Ford whirled around in his seat, staring at Kristoph with a shocked look that faded into a glare. Kristoph was pleased that he’d finally managed to catch the other man off guard.

“I knew I recognized it from somewhere. I’m from Germany, you twat, and I know for a fact that this painting is at an art museum in Hamburg,” Kristoph said with supreme confidence.

Ford’s glare hardened. “So I lied. What business is it of yours?”

“Is it just a simple lie, or are you more involved in art forgery than you’d have us believe?” Kristoph challenged.

“Are you implying something?” Ford spat, standing up to face Kristoph.

Ford peered at Kristoph’s face, as if he were trying to place him. Eventually his glare eased, his face relaxing as he gave Kristoph another of his smiles.

“Kristoph Gavin, from Germany?” he asked easily. “I have clients out of Los Angeles that hired this musician boy to play at their parties. What was his name? Klavier?” Ford mused.

Kristoph tried to keep his expression neutral, but he couldn’t help the flash of fear that shot through his gut. “Ah, you’re related are you?” Ford asked, seeming to enjoy this new revelation.

“I heard he’s studying abroad now. I have connection in Germany, you know. I wonder how he’s doing,” Ford pondered aloud.

When Kristoph stormed back to Scott’s car, he entered the car with a slam, fists clenched. “Find you wallet?” Scott asked, immediately putting the car in reverse.

Kristoph stayed silent, arms crossed as he stared out the window. Kristoph followed Scott through the rest of his investigation that day, keeping more distance than he had at Ford’s place. A week later, Kristoph heard from Scott that it turned out the artist, Gil, had partnered with someone to sell forgeries of his paintings, so that he could pay off his debts to some malicious loan sharks. Artie Saller had realized the painting was a forgery after selling it, and had contacted Gil directly and it was during that confrontation that Artie had been murdered. Scott’s client was free, and Gil Tiedeman had gone to jail in his place.

Kristoph had a feeling he knew who Gil had partnered with, even if the police didn’t. He stayed quiet, remembering Ford’s thinly veiled threats. Those words haunted him for months, and served as a constant reminder that Klavier could dictate his life even from an ocean away.

Chapter Text

Klavier decided that Sundays at 19:00 would be would be their weekly talk. This translated to Sunday mornings at 10:00 for Kristoph. This didn’t bother him, as Kristoph had always been an early riser. It just became another part of his routine, setting up his laptop on the dining room table while he brewed tea on the stove. Sometime between 9:45 and 10:30, Kristoph would hear the tune signaling that he was getting an incoming call.

He sat down at the table and accepted, Klavier’s face filling up his screen. Klavier’s expression immediately lit up, waving excitedly at the screen, his hand a stuttering blur on Kristoph’s end. Klavier’s room was awash with bright yellow lamp light, trying to brighten area enough for a clear picture. Kristoph had time on his side, natural light filtering in through the window above the stove. Klavier’s lamps had the nasty side-effect of making him look washed out, accentuating the bags under his eyes.

“Hi, Kris!” Klavier said, voice lagging slightly behind the movement of his lips.

Even so, Kristoph couldn’t help but smile at his brother’s voice. “Hello, Klavier.” Kristoph poured himself a cup of tea. “How’s school?”

“Gut, hard though!” Klavier said with a pout. “You didn’t warn me about that.”

Kristop smirked. “I thought it best that you find out on your own.”

A harsh crackle came through the speakers, a sound Kristoph had come to understand was Klavier’s laughter. “Arschloh,” he said playfully.

“You’re learning well?” Kristoph asked, looking at Klavier with raised eyebrows.

“Ja, ja!” Klavier assured, and even through a computer screen, Kristoph could see his eyes light up. “I have this class on International Law and we’re studying important cases.”

Kristoph sat back, idly sipping his tea. He knew that asking Klavier about his classes was guaranteed to get him talking for hours. He would make wild gestures and talk emphatically. It was always amusing, and always very relaxing for Kristoph to eat breakfast while his brother talked in the background.

“I never realized that so many important lawyers practiced in Los Angeles!” Klavier said.

“Why did you think I moved all the way out here?” Kristoph asked with a smirk.

Klavier shrugged. “Maybe you wanted to get a tan?” he suggested.

Kristoph scoffed. “Oh please. I’m afraid some of us don’t have your naturally toned skin.”

Klavier held up his hands, palms up. “Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful.”

“You vain prick,” Kristoph muttered in exasperation.

“But anyways, we’ve been learning about Miles Edgeworth and mein Gott!” Klavier exclaimed, practically swooning.

Kristoph nearly spat out his tea at the mention of Edgeworth with such adoration. “Oh?” he asked icily.

Klavier continued, too caught up in his own thoughts to notice the shift in Kristoph’s mood. “Ja, he was raised in Germany, like me, and he practices law in LA. And in his most recent trial, State v. Powers he actually objected to his own witness’s testimony when he realized they were guilty!” Klavier gushed.

“Is that so?” Kristoph said flatly, less of a question than a challenge.

Given his own experience with the man, he had a hard time believing Klavier’s rose-tinted view of him. Klavier was an aspiring prosecutor after all. Kristoph had learned long ago to take anything a prosecutor said with a grain of salt. Especially since Klavier was likely reading from books and records written by the same system that allowed prosecutors like Edgeworth to flourish.

“Ja, and he’s amazing at his job! I watched some recordings of his old trials, and mein Gott! They run so smoothly and he has this, this presence,” Klavier continued.

Even though he knew Klavier didn’t know better, Kristoph still felt a twist in his gut at the idea that Klavier would idolize someone who knowingly sent innocent people to prison. What happened to the ideals of truth and justice that Klavier claimed he stood for? Did he just not see?

“You know,” Kristoph began slowly. “Many defense attorneys around here call him the ‘Demon Prosecutor.’”

Kristoph hoped that some perspective would keep Klavier from falling into the trap that so many other young prosecutors did. But instead of the curiosity and question Kristoph had hoped for, Klavier simply laughed as if it was all some big joke.

“A fitting name for someone with such presence!” Klavier laughed lightly.

Kristoph scowled, quickly ending the conversation after that. He closed his laptop, setting his now lukewarm tea down on the table. What was he learning over there that had given him such an idealistic view of Edgeworth? Was he being taught sugar-coated lies about the von Karmas as well? Was Klavier just taking in what his professors taught without any critical thinking or doubt? Is that how prosecutors like Edgeworth had been created in the first place?

Kristoph standing across from Edgeworth in court, knowing his client was innocent but being completely powerless to prove it. As a defense attorney, he wasn’t granted access to all the evidence Edgeworth had, and Edgeworth was given hours to prepare his perfect witness. By the time Kristoph was at the bench, the game had already been won. How could Klavier watch Edgeworth’s trials and claim he stood for truth and justice?

In early December, Klavier informed him that he wouldn’t be coming home for the holidays.

“Why not?” Kristoph asked with a furrowed brow.

Klavier was constantly lamenting being unable to see Kristoph in person. Why was he choosing to stay in Europe when he finally had the opportunity to travel to LA?

“A friend from Amsterdam is letting me stay with them. Can you believe I lived in Germany for nine years and I’ve never been?” Klavier asked excitedly, seemingly missing the irritation on Kristoph’s face.

“That’s nice,” Kristoph said flatly, setting his tea on the table and folding his hands in his lap. “But when are you going to visit?”

Klavier waved his hand. “In time,” he assured. “Summer is right around the corner, ja?”

Kristoph frowned, unsure what to say in the face of his brother’s indifference. He often wondered if Klavier himself had forgotten his own age. Kristoph chose to stay silent, because the only words on the tip of his tongue were biting remarks that would do nothing towards getting Klavier home.

Once, again, Klavier seemed oblivious to his brother’s anger. “Oh!” he exclaimed excitedly, clapping his hands together. “Did I tell you we started a band?”

That shook Kristoph out of his reverie. “Do you have time for that?” Kristoph asked indifferently.

Klavier seemed unconcerned with Kristoph’s worries. “Ja, we’re making good money on it!” Klavier said, vibrating with exhilaration. “Maybe one day I’ll start sending you an allowance every month, ja?” he laughed.

Kristoph remained silent as Klavier rushed through his words, not even giving Kristoph time to respond. “But really! Some of the others are using the money to pay towards their tuition. We’re even doing a small tour after Christmas, and we’re in talks to open for another band,” Klavier enthused.

“Having thoughts of dropping out of law school?” Kristoph asked humorlessly.

“Nein! I always told you I’d be a rockstar and a prosecutor, now it’s actually happening!” Klavier exclaimed, laughter distorted over their faulty connection. But Kristoph could hear it in his head, bright and clear, just like it had been when Klavier was right beside him.

With Klavier gone, Kristoph found himself putting in more hours at the office. Over the holidays, when school was out, Kristoph had little better to do. He often found himself at Anna’s desk, a study guide for the bar exam open in front of him while he fired off emails that Anna had on her to-do list.

That’s where he found himself on Christmas Eve, all the other lights in the office off save for the brass banker’s lamp on Anna’s desk. When the office door creaked open with an unholy squeal, Kristoph’s head shot up, not expecting anyone to show up this late on Christmas Eve. Alissa A. Monie stood in the doorway, knob still half-turned as she stared at Kristoph in shock, obviously having similar thoughts.

“Kristoph,” she said, eyes wide with shock. “What are you doing here?”

Kristoph, having recovered, went back to studying. “I could ask you the same question,” he pointed out.

Alissa nodded, taking off her coat and hanging it up before pulling a chair up to Anna’s desk. “Fair enough,” she conceded. “No one to celebrate with?”

Kristoph shook his head. “Klavier stayed in Germany. Apparently he’s touring with his band,” he explained. He looked up at the older woman, eyeing her suspiciously. “Shouldn’t you be with Scott?”

Alissa shrugged noncommittally. “When you’ve been married as long as we have, holidays lose some of their charm,” she said vaguely.

Kristoph left it at that, having no desire to get in the middle of one of Scott and Al’s marital spats. He turned back to his work, circling and underlining important points. He heard Al’s chair creak as she got up and entered her own office. He heard her rustling around behind the half open door, opening drawers and thumbing through files. A few minutes later she came back and took her seat next to Kristoph again.

She set a cold six-pack on top of Kristoph’s open book. “Beer?” she offered, taking one for herself.

Kristoph frowned, moving the beers onto some loose paperwork of Anna’s, brushing rings of condensation off his book. “Where did you get that?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Alissa shrugged. “I keep them in the minifridge in my office.”

Kristoph eyed her with a frown. “That’s concerning.” Even so, he grabbed one for himself.

Alissa simply smiled at him, using the bottle opener on her keyring before passing it to Kristoph. “Perks of the job,” she replied. “Besides, if you’re not going to drink when you’re alone on Christmas Eve, when are you going to drink?”

Kristoph popped his bottle open before tossing Alissa her keys. “Hear, hear,” Kristoph said in agreement.

“What should we toast to?” Alissa asked thoughtfully.

Kristoph glanced down at his book. “Me passing the bar?” he offered.

Al giggled, leaning forward to smack him playfully on the shoulder. “You’ll pass. You’re the most over prepared student I’ve ever seen.”

Kristoph looked at her over the rim of his glasses. “I didn’t know it was possible to be over prepared.”

Al shrugged. “If it makes you feel better, Scott had to retake the bar four times.”

Kristoph blinked. “You’re kidding,” he said flatly, suddenly feeling like he was sharing gossip at the water cooler.

Al smiled, eyes crinkling at the corners. “It’s true! Scott’s brilliant in court, but he’s horrible with legal minutia,” she explained.

Kristoph sat back, stunned by the new information. “Wow. I can’t believe he didn’t give up after the third try.”

Al shrugged. “My husband is nothing if not determined.” She flashed Kristoph her knowing smile. “If someone like Scott can pass the bar, then you’ll have no problem,” she assured.

At the mention of Scott, Al let out a heavy sigh. Kristoph decided to bite the bullet. “Something on your mind?” he asked, opening the floor for Al to share whatever had brought her to the office on Christmas Eve.

“When Scott and I were your age, we were going to change the world, you know?” she said wistfully. “We were going to be a dynamic duo, prosecutors would quake before us!” she said dramatically.
Kristoph couldn’t help but snort at the notion. Hadn’t he once had dreams like that? “It seems silly now, in hindsight. But we were kids and we thought it’d be one grand adventure.” She sighed wearily. “Unfortunately it seems every defense attorney starts out that way.”

“And?” Kristoph prodded, encouraging her to continue.

“The system is too broken for one person, or even two, to change. And believe me, people have been trying for years.” Al slumped in her chair, staring at the neck of her bottle. “And they’ll likely continue trying.”

Kristoph frowned, turning to the glowing computer screen in front of him. “Merry Christmas,” Kristoph muttered sarcastically.

Al laughed in response. “Sorry, sorry, am I ruining your holiday cheer?”

Kristoph glanced around him at the darkened, musty office. “I’m not sure I had any to begin with.” Kristoph looked at Al again, seeing the defeated slump in her shoulders and the far off look in her eye. “That doesn’t explain why you’re here at eight o’clock on Christmas Eve.”

“I’m filing for divorce,” she explained sadly.

Kristoph blinked. “Oh,” was all he could say, flat and unemotional.

Al nodded, giving Kristoph a second to recover. “Does Scott know?” Kristoph asked.

She nodded. “We’ve talked about it, gone back and forth. Frankly, it was a long time coming, in my opinion,” she explained.

Her indifference was what shocked Kristoph the most. He’d had no idea that two were having marital trouble, Al’s news coming completely out of left field. And yet Al herself seemed to have accept it, or maybe time and effort had just worn her down.

“What happened?” Kristoph asked. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

Al pursed her lips. “To be quite honest, I’m not really sure,” she admitted. “Time, probably.”

Al sighed weakly. “This job isn’t easy. The constant court battles, and the lost cases have changed us into completely different people. He thinks he can still change things, that two old fools like us can take on the Prosecutor’s Office.”

“And you don’t?” Kristoph asked quietly.

Al shrugged. “Wouldn’t we have changed something by now if we could?” she asked. Her eyes took on a sudden weariness that Kristoph couldn’t remember seeing before. “I think I want to retire. Stop going to court just to be beaten back with a stick.”

Kristoph’s mouth twisted into a wry grin. “You two sound almost like Klavier and I.” Al gave him a funny look, eyebrow quirked. “Klavier has all these lofty ideas about representing truth and justice. And yet he’s a prosecutor. And here I am trying my best to actually fight for his ideals, but people like him are holding me back,” Kristoph explained.

Al nodded knowingly. “An idealist and a realist,” she mused.

Kristoph nodded. “His idol is Miles Edgeworth, if you can believe it.”

Al snorted, before holding up her bottle. “To realism?” she offered.

Kristoph met her bottle with his, the tell-tale clink of two bottles echoing throughout the empty office. “To realism,” he agreed.

Alissa allowed him to keep the rest of the beer, leaving just after ten rolled around. Kristoph accepted gracefully, taking the beer home and keeping it for a rainy day.

On New Year’s Day at 9:45, Kristoph laptop was buzzing loudly. Kristoph sat down, accepting the call and waved with a small smile. Klavier was already bouncing with excitement.

“Did you hear, did you hear?” he exclaimed in excitement.

“Did I hear what, boy?” Kristoph asked sharply, a mix of annoyed and amused.

“Miles Edgeworth!” Klavier exclaimed, as if that explained everything.

Kristoph’s mood immediately darkened, but he stayed silent, sitting back and letting Klavier dominate the conversation. “Mein Gott, how have you not heard, Kris?” Klavier shouted indignantly. “It was the trial of the century!” he insisted.

“I’m sure you’re about to read me the transcriptions?” Kristoph deadpanned.

“I stayed up late every night to watch the court feed, mein Gott, it was amazing,” Klavier gushed.

“You stayed up, how late?”

“It was worth it, Kris! I watched the great Manfred von Karma be taken down! They’re going to write law books on this trial!” he insisted.

Kristoph choked. “You saw what?” he asked incredulously.

“Scheiße, Kris! You really don’t know? I’ll have to send you the recordings, but Gott! Miles Edgeworth insisted on holding trial in the name of the truth! And when it turned out von Karma was the killer, Edgeworth helped take down his own mentor! It was inspiring, Kris!

“I can only hope to be half the prosecutor Edgeworth is. And that suit! Do you think I’d look good in purple, Kris?”

Klavier could have gone on for hours if Kristoph hadn’t eventually cut him off. “Unfortunately, I have to go,” he said flatly. “Be sure to send me those recordings, alright?”

Without waiting for a response, Klavier ended the call. Kristoph glanced at the clock. It wasn’t even ten yet, but Kristoph could let it slide this one time. He got up and retrieved the remaining beers that Alissa had gifted him. Kristoph walked out onto the balcony, setting the beer down at his feet as he stared off into the city below, shrouded in smog. It being Sunday morning, the city was less busy than usual, but there was still a steady stream of cars on the street below.

Kristoph angrily opened his beer and took a swig, uncaringly tossing the bottle cap off the balcony. “What a blind fool,” he muttered to himself. “How can he idolize Edgeworth and then claim he represents truth? Edgeworth stands only for himself. He doesn’t care for truth or justice!” Kristoph bit angrily.

“Is that the man my brother wants to become? A servant of the Prosecutor’s Office, without his own will?” Kristoph took another large gulp.

“Defense attorneys, no, I have had to fight for everything! Klavier hasn’t had to fight for a damned thing in his blessed life. Not recognition, not love! He has had everything handed to him, hailed as some child prodigy! From the moment he was born everything was laid out for him!”

In a fit of anger, Kristoph took his half-filled bottle and cast if off the balcony, watching as it fell and shattered on the ground below. He immediately picked up another bottle.

“He would be nowhere without me! I could’ve left him in that damned house, let him burn up with our mother!” Kristoph howled, hurling the second bottle to the ground.

“He serves as a willing pawn for a corrupt system, and works under a banner of false justice, all while never lifting a finger!” Klavier threw another bottle over the railing.

“I’ve worked ten times harder for not even half as much reward? Where’s my justice?” he screamed out into the void, the last bottle shattering against the railing, not even making it to the ground.

Shards of glass scattered at his feet, Kristoph slumped against the wall, watching as the city below him trekked on. He wondered what it was all moving towards.

Chapter Text

One evening in late February, Kristoph got a frantic call from Klavier. He’d been grocery shopping at the time, when his phone rang, displaying Klavier’s number. Kristoph hadn’t gotten a phone call from Klavier since he’d left, as they’d kept all communication to their Sunday morning calls. So with a furrowed brow, Kristoph answered, unsure what to expect on the other end.

“Hello?” he answered warily.

Immediately he was met with wracked sobs on the other end of the line as Klavier sputtered out a series of unintelligible words.

“Klavier, is that you?” Kristoph asked. “I can’t understand a word you’re saying.” He paused, picking up an apple from the display in front of him and turning it over in his hands. “Are you crying?”

“Ja, ja,” Klavier sniffled, before once again devolving into sobs.

“Good lord, get ahold of yourself,” Kristoph snapped. “What happened?”

Klavier tried to choke out an explanation, but it was still lost in a series of pained cries and sniffles. Kristoph let out an exasperated sigh.

“I’m in public right now. Let me get somewhere more private and I’ll call you back,” Kristoph said, placing the apple back on the stand. “In the meantime, get some water and take deep breaths, alright?”

Hearing a muffled noise of agreement from his brother, Kristoph closed his phone. He quickly moved through the checkout line, cutting his shopping trip short in order to tend to his weeping brother. Only about ten minutes passed between ending the call and setting up in his car, grocery bags thrown haphazardly in the back. Kristoph quickly dialed his brother, part of him hoping Klavier had moved on.

Unfortunately, Klavier picked up after a couple rings. “First of all,” Kristoph began. “What are you doing awake? It’s the middle of the night over there,” he scolded.

Klavier’s voice noticeably shuddered as he began speaking. “It’s Edgeworth, Kris.” Just the mention of the famed prosecutor nearly sent Klavier into another round of sobs.

“What now?” Kristoph snapped, sick of hearing his brother fawn over the man.

Kristoph’s harsh demeanor did nothing to help, and Klavier broke down into quiet sobs. “He’s dead, he killed himself!” Klavier managed to squeak out.

Kristoph had to bite his tongue to keep from spouting his first thought, which was “good riddance.” Instead he settled for the vague “What happened?”

“I don’t know!” Klavier sobbed. “I just saw it on the news and I immediately called you.” Klavier sniffled. “You mean, you don’t know anything?”

“I’m afraid not,” Kristoph said flatly, examining his nails. “I don’t make a habit of following prosecutor’s trials.”

“Why would he kill himself?” Klavier asked. “He was an amazing prosecutor! Everyone respected him!” Klavier insisted.

Kristoph rolled his eyes at the boy’s naiveté. “Maybe he finally felt guilty about all the innocent people he’d wrongly sentenced,” Kristoph said before he could stop himself.

For a long time, there was stunned silence on the other end of the line. Once Kristoph processed what he’d said, he sat up, mouth going dry as he tried to think of ways to correct himself.

Klavier finally hiccupped, breaking the silence. “What?” he said breathlessly. “Kris, why would you say something like that?” he asked, sounding heartbroken.

Kristoph clenched his fists, steeling his jaw as he decided to simply barrel through. “You can’t think that someone can run dozens of trials over four years where every defendant is guilty?” Kristoph asked.

Again, Klavier was shocked into silence. Kristoph waited. “What… what are you saying?” Klavier asked quietly.

Kristoph sighed in annoyance. “Don’t play the fool, Klavier.”

“Y-you’re just saying that because you’re a defense attorney,” Klavier insisted weakly.

“Right,” Kristoph muttered wryly. “Do you know why he was called the Demon Prosecutor?” Kristoph asked nonchalantly.

Met with silence, Kristoph continued. “He concealed evidence and trained witnesses, among other things. He would do anything to ‘win’ a trial, regardless of the truth,” Kristoph said, unable to help feeling a sense of twisted joy at Klavier’s disbelief.

“But those are just rumors, nicht?”

Kristoph sighed. “I would advise you find less biased news sources,” he suggested. “Now, I’m extremely busy, is that all?” he asked dismissively.

Klavier was quiet for a moment, before answering with a weak “Ja.”

“Try to get some sleep,” Kristoph ordered before ending the call.

After that, their weekly talks became shorter and shorter, until the two brothers only talked every two weeks, and then every month.

Kristoph graduated in mid-May, at which point he immediately began studying for the July bar exam eight weeks from then. A few days after the ceremony, Kristoph received a postcard from Zurich where Klavier was spending the summer with a bandmate. Kristoph kept the postcard on his desk, using it as a placeholder in his book of example essays from past bar exams.

Two weeks prior, Anna cut Kristoph’s hours in half, insisting that if he was in the office any more than that, she’d chase him out. That didn’t stop her from stopping by his apartment periodically. She let herself in with the spare key Kristoph had given her (for emergencies, she’d insisted). She found him hunched over the coffee table in front of a thick law book, blanket draped over his shoulders, and hair unmade.

Anna put her hand on her hips as she stared down at Kristoph. “You look awful,” she said bluntly, never one to mince her words.

Kristoph peered up at her through tired eyes. “I feel awful,” he said in agreement.

Anna let out an exasperated sigh and strode across his meager apartment, drawing back the curtains to let in the light. “You’re going to make yourself sick,” she chided. “Get up, I’m taking you out,” she ordered.

Kristoph was familiar with this tactic of hers. “I need to study,” he insisted.

Anna looked over her shoulder at him, giving him a skeptical glare. “You need to eat,” she snapped. “You’re not a robot. How long have you been sitting in front of that book?”

Kristoph tried to crunch the numbers in his head. “What time is it?” he finally asked after realizing he didn’t know.

“It’s time for you to get some fresh air.” Having opened all the windows in the room, Anna turned back to look at Kristoph, taking in his unkempt appearance. “Scratch that, when was the last time you showered?”

She was at Kristoph’s side in only a few steps, at which point she unceremoniously ripped the blanket off his shoulders. He glared up at her, only to be met with her stern eyes.

“Go clean yourself up and get dressed. Then I’m taking you to eat,” she said sternly, shooing him out of the room.

“Don’t you have a job to be doing?” Kristoph grumbled, getting up and beginning to make his way to the bathroom regardless.

“Kristoph, it’s Sunday,” Anna sighed.

Loath as he was to admit it, Kristoph felt significantly better after showering and putting on clean clothes. After shouldering his suit jacket, he walked back to the living area, where Anna was drumming her fingers on his countertop.

She smiled upon seeing him. “Ah, look at you. Now you look like a lawyer!”

“Yes, yes. I suppose I owe you thanks for helping keep me together,” Kristoph said.

“It’s no trouble,” Anna laughed. “I remember studying for the bar and I was as much a mess as you are,” she assured.

“Now, I’m going to put some food in you, and then we’ll come back and run through a practice performance test,” she said firmly, letting Kristoph know there was no room for argument.

“Yes, boss,” Kristoph said with a fake salute, following her out the door.

The bar exam itself was a blur. There was eighteen hours of exam material, spread out over three days. Kristoph felt like he was dead on his feet after the first session, at which point his hand was cramping with every word he wrote. He forced himself to push through, because he refused to have spent the last six years in vain. After the last day of testing, Kristoph was relieved to go home and pass out on his couch. He couldn’t even bring himself to make it the few extra feet to his bedroom.

A month after the exam, Kristoph sat in front of Anna’s work computer, his bosses hovering behind him.

“The results are supposed to be posted at six,” he said, eyeing his watch as the minutes ticked down.

Even though there were still five minutes to go, Kristoph had fallen into the trap of nervously refreshing the page every ten seconds, on the off-chance that the results were posted early. Anna stood behind him, hands on the back of his chair. Scott and Al stood on each side, Scott appearing more indifferent than the others (he was certain that Kristoph had passed no matter what the kid said).

“Do you want us to leave so you can look first?” Anna asked gently, gazing down at Kristoph.

“No, I’ll be alright,” Kristoph insisted, continuing to refresh the page with a shaking hand.

Kristoph’s voice seemed steady as ever, but Anna had known him long enough to know better. He masked his true feelings with a cool voice and an intense stare. But she saw his shaking hands, and how his chest expanded with deep, shuddering breaths and saw them for what they were. She gingerly placed a hand on his shoulder and gave him a small, comforting squeeze.

Kristoph nodded, acknowledging the welcome gesture. “Just remember, even if you don’t pass, you can always take it again,” Anna reminded him.

There was a gruff scoff off to the side. “What are you going on about? Of course he’ll pass!” Scott insisted.

“I’m pretty sure you said that about yourself every time you took the bar,” Al said, rolling her eyes.

“I was right eventually, wasn’t I?” Scott retorted.

It was then that Kristoph refreshed to find the once blank page suddenly filled with names. Anna drew in a loud breath.

“Quiet, you two!” she snapped.

The other two lawyers immediately quieted, looking to Kristoph with interest as he sorted through the alphabetical list to find, or not find, his name. His heart hammered in his chest as he found the name “Gabriel.” He continued moving down the list, suddenly feeling light-headed. And then, right between “Gautier” and “Gavrilov.”

“Gavin, Kristoph,” he read quietly to the silent room.

A series of cheers filled the room, as Anna proudly patted his shoulders and Scott clapped him on the back. Kristoph felt as if he was deflating, sinking back in his chair limply. All the work he’d done over the past six years, the studying and the working, it had finally amounted to something. It was over. Kristoph Gavin was officially an attorney.

Kristoph came out of his reverie at Anna’s familiar shout. “Al, please stop dancing on my desk.”

Al obediently hopped back off the desk. “I can’t help it! Our boy is a lawyer now!” she said happily, playfully mussing up Kristoph’s hair.

He scowled at her. “Al, leave the poor kid alone,” Scott chastised.

“Hell, no! We have to celebrate!” she insisted. “Right, Anna?”

The other three people in the office looked to Anna, waiting for her verdict. She thought for a moment, glancing around at her coworkers. “I think some drinks are in order,” she finally agreed. “If Kristoph is up for it of course.”

Kristoph smiled. “I could go for drinks,” he agreed.

Both Scott and Al whooped, high-fiving and leading the way to the bar. Kristoph stood shakily, legs suddenly feeling like jelly. Anna watched him with amusement as he regained control of his limbs. Then she walked with him to the street, side by side.

Scott happily grabbed a booth for their small party, and ushered everyone in.

“You’ll get your attorney’s badge in the mail in a few days and you’re going to want to show it to everyone!” Al teased, punctuating her sentence by showing her own badge where it rested on her lapel.

Everyone at the table chuckled. “Are you sure you want to leave Kristoph?” Anna asked, not for the first time. “The office is going to be empty without you.”

“We could even put your name on the sign,” Scott offered.

For the first time, Kristoph paused, seriously considering the offer. Not just because they offered to put his name on the plaque, but because he sincerely enjoyed working with these people. Over the six years he’d been in their office, they’d become much more to him than just coworkers. They were his friends and mentors, and he cared for all of them. He could open his own law firm whenever he wanted, it could wait, couldn’t it?

Kristoph opened his mouth to answer when he was interrupted by his phone ringing. He cursed under his breath and searched his pockets while the others laughed. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and eyed the number calling him. Klavier, he thought sourly. He silenced his phone and shoved it back in his pocket.

“Who was that?” Scott asked.

“No one important,” Kristoph assured. “I’ll think about it,” Kristoph said with a smile.

“That’s the closest to a yes we’ve gotten!” Al pointed out.

“I’ll toast to that,” Anna chimed in.

“To partnership?” Scott offered, holding up his glass.

“Partnership!” the others chimed in, meeting his drink with theirs.

It was three weeks later that Kristoph was awoken by his phone ringing incessantly. Kristoph climbed out of bed and grabbed his phone to find that he had four missed calls from Scott. Kristoph glanced at the clock, and saw that it was still early, the sun just barely peaking over the horizon. The phone in his hands started ringing again, causing him to drop it.

He cursed, picking it back up and held it to his ear. “What?” he snapped into the receiver.

“Kid, you’re awake,” Scott said, voice ragged and weary.

“You made sure of that, didn’t you?” Kristoph grumbled, grabbing blindly for his glasses on the bedside table.

“Sorry about that.” The flat tone of his voice showed no indication of actually being sorry. “Look, you should come to the detention center.”

“Right now?” Kristoph spat incredulously. “Is it a case?”

“Something like that,” Scott grumbled.

“What the hell is so important that you had to call me at,” Kristoph glanced at his clock. “5:30 in the morning?”

“It’s Anna,” Scott snapped back.

Kristoph was stunned silent. “What?” was all he could manage to say.

“Just get down here,” Scott ordered before ending the call.

Kristoph sat in his dark, silent room for a minute. He had no idea what to expect from Scott’s call, vague as it was. He steeled himself for the worst, before getting dressed. He threw on his suit, making sure that his attorney’s badge was pinned to his lapel.

Chapter Text

When Kristoph arrived at the detention center, he found Scott pacing anxiously in the lobby. Kristoph called his name to get his attention, and Scott immediately walked over, running a hand through his hair.

“What happened?” Kristoph asked sharply.

Scott sighed. “You might want to sit down,” he advised, putting a hand on Kristoph’s arm to lead him to a vacant chair.

Kristoph shook him off. “Just tell me what’s going on,” he ordered, glaring at the older man.

Scott stared at him with blank eyes. Kristoph saw the moment he gave in and realized Kristoph wasn’t going to be easily subdued. “Alissa’s dead.” His voice cracked as he said it, and he brought a fist to his mouth to try to contain his emotions.

Kristoph wished he’d taken Scott’s advice. His legs shook and he reached for the nearest object to try and steady himself. Al… dead? He couldn’t believe it, it had been less than twenty-four hours since he’d last seen her. How could she possibly be dead?

“What?” he croaked.

Scott looked at him with sad eyes before prying Kristoph’s hand off his arm. Kristoph hadn’t realized he’d been clutching it. Scott led Kristoph to a nearby chair and sat him down in it.

“She was murdered at the office,” he explained.

Kristoph’s eyes were swimming. “When?” he asked, trying to regain control of the situation.

“Around midnight. Anna found her pretty soon after,” he answered wearily.

Kristoph shuddered at the thought that it had only been five hours since his friend… died. “Where’s Anna?” he asked sharply, finally realizing what was missing.

Scott put a hand over his mouth, eyes growing heavy. “They found her prints on the murder weapon.” Scott paused. “They’re charging her with murder.”

Kristoph shot up out of his seat. “That’s ridiculous! Anna would never…” he trailed off.

Kristoph had gotten up too quickly, and stumbled forward as his head churned. Scott grabbed his shoulders to steady him, and gently shook Kristoph to get his attention. Kristoph stared at Scott’s face, seeing black spots but still trying to focus.

“I know, kid,” Scott sighed. “But you know how the police operate,” Scott hiss, keeping his voice down. “They’ll arrest anyone on the slightest suspicion.”

Kristoph stared at Scott with wide eyes, sensing fear coming off the man in waves. It was unsettling that his gruff mentor was just as lost as he was in this situation. Kristoph had expected Scott to know what to do, what steps to take to free Anna and get her back to her wife and kids. But this was uncharted territory for the both of them, it seemed.

So Kristoph took charge. “Can we talk to her?” he asked.

Scott let go, sensing Kristoph had regained some composure. “She should be out of questioning soon.”

When the police finished questioning, a police officer led the two men to a holding cell partitioned in two by a window in the middle. On the other side was Kristoph’s friend and mentor, Anna Turney, looking as exhausted and miserable as Kristoph felt.

“Anna!” he exclaimed, rushing towards the glass.

Anna brightened considerably at seeing her friends. “Kristoph, Scott, thank god you’re here,” she sighed.

Kristoph took a seat at the long desk in front of the window across from Anna, Scott taking a seat beside them. “What happened?” Kristoph asked.

Anna looked nervously to Scott nervously before returning her eyes to Kristoph. “I forgot a file at the office that I knew I’d need today, I was supposed to meet with a client.” She looked to Scott nervously. “Can you take care of it?”

Scott held up his hand. “Consider it done. It’s much more important that you tell us what happened.”

“Right.” Anna sighed. “I was going back to get a file, and when I went into my office…” She trailed off, covering her mouth with her hand and choking into it.

“Oh, Anna,” Scott murmured, hands clenching as he wished he comfort her.

“It was just awful,” Anna breathed, tears brimming at the corner of her eyes.

Kristoph sat with his hands folded on the table, unsure how to react to seeing his mentor so vulnerable. He’d seen Anna happy, angry, and even sad, but never had he seen her cry. With Klavier, he would stroke his hair and brush his tears away. But he had a feeling that wouldn’t be appropriate here.

“So she was already dead,” Kristoph said, deciding that pushing on was the best that he could do.

Anna nodded, still on the verge of tears. “How did she die?” Kristoph asked quietly, trying to be as tactful as possible.

From the look Scott gave him, Kristoph had a feeling he was failing. Anna reflexively touched the back of her neck. “It was my scissors. The ones I keep on my desk.”

Kristoph let out a small sigh of relief. “That’s why your prints were on them?” he asked.

Anna nodded. “Then surely it’ll be easy to prove your innocence?” Kristoph asked hopefully.

Both Scott and Anna sighed in unison, and Kristoph felt his heart sink. “If only it were that easy, kid,” Scott muttered.

“My prints were the only ones found on the scissors. And they weren’t smudged, which they should have been if someone were using gloves,” Anna explained.

“And even if that weren’t the case,” Scott added. “It’s nearly impossible to get an acquittal if you don’t have another suspect.”

“There has to be someone,” Kristoph insisted. “Anna, did you see anyone suspicious? Are there any security cameras we can look at?”

Anna shook her head. “I’m afraid not.”

A heavy silence filled the room, as the three lawyers thought about what this meant for them. In one fell swoop, they’d lost two brilliant attorneys, one to death and one to the twisted court system. Kristoph grit his teeth.

“Why would someone kill Alissa?” he asked quietly.

“I don’t know,” Anna murmured, but she was looking to Scott.

Scott was wiping at his eyes, keeping his mouth covered as he tried to keep from breaking down. “I’m so sorry, Scott,” Anna said softly.

“It’s fine,” he insisted. “It hasn’t quite sunk in yet.”

Anna stared at her coworker with soft eyes. Kristoph admired her, that even with her life on the line she could still spare empathy for her friend. Kristoph refused to lose her.

“Anna,” he said sharply, getting her attention. “Let me defend you,” he pleaded.

Anna looked at him with worry in her eyes. “Kristoph, a murder trial is too much for your first case. And when you’re so personally involved…” she trailed off.

“Please. You taught me everything I know, let me prove you taught me well,” Kristoph said, eyes filled with determination.

Anna’s will faltered, and she looked to Scott. “You’ll advise him?”

Scott saluted her. “Every step of the way, ma’am,” he assured.

Anna turned back to Kristoph was a warm smile. “Then I entrust my fate to you.”

Anna quickly wrote out a formal letter of request and slipped it to Kristoph, who folded it and slipped it into his briefcase with pride. “Good luck, make me proud.”

Those were Anna’s last words before she was pulled away for questioning. Kristoph turned to Scott in the empty holding cell.

“Where to now?” he asked.

Scott raised an eyebrow. “Your case, kid. You tell me.”

Kristoph blinked, suddenly realizing the responsibility that taking on a case held. “We should investigate the crime scene first?” he suggested.

Scott gave him a small smile, still overshadowed by the bitterness in his eyes. “Lead the way,” he said with a nod.

Chapter Text

It was nearing 7:00 when the two reached the office. The place seemed foreign an uncharted now that it was cordoned off with police tape. Kristoph and Scott ducked under the tape sealing the door, finding that the police presence was minor. The one police officer stationed at the crime scene allowed them to look around upon seeing their letter of request. Kristoph stepped into the center of the office he’d spent six years working in and looked around.

He remembered sitting in the flower patterned wingback chair during his initial interview. Anna had offered him tea, which he’d promptly spilled on himself in his nervousness. He’d spent countless nights hunched over Anna’s desk with law books in front of him, studying until Alissa came over and turned his lamp off, shooing him out of the office. Many of the books lining Anna’s bookshelves are ones she’d leant him for his classes, saving him hundreds of dollars on textbooks he didn’t have to buy.

Now on the floor by Anna’s desk was a white outline of a body, a red stain swallowing the body’s upper half. Scott gagged and was forced to look away.

Kristoph looked over his shoulder at the older man. “You don’t have to stay here,” he said.

Scott straightened up. “I’m fine,” he insisted. “I have to advise you after all,” he said with fake cheeriness.

Kristoph quirked an eyebrow. “It’s just, every time I look at that outline I think of.” Scott choked again, unable to finish his sentence.

Kristoph turned back, eyes drawn to the dark stain in the wood floor. “Me too,” he admitted quietly.

Scott stood with his back facing the crime scene while Kristoph investigated. Kristoph fought his natural repulsion, trying not to think that his friend had once been that white line on the floor, that the dark stain was her blood. On Anna’s desk, he found a blood encrusted pair of scissors. The murder weapon, he assumed. From Anna’s description, he knew he’d find her prints on it, and hers alone.

As he looked closer, he realized the floor wasn’t the only part of the room covered in blood, and that there was a clear trail of blood on the surface of the desk, crawling over the surface and then down the side.

“There’s more blood over here,” Kristoph said to Scott.

“Great. Just what we needed,” Scott replied sarcastically.

“It starts on the desk and then makes a clear path to the floor,” Kristoph continued.

Scott glanced over his shoulder, pointedly keeping his eyes focused on Kristoph and not his surroundings. “What’s that tell you, kid?” he asked.

Kristoph straightened up. “That the victim was stabbed here on the desk, before falling to the floor,” he said.

“Good,” Scott said. “What else can you tell from the crime scene?”

Kristoph stepped back, observing the space of Anna’s desk as a whole. “There are papers all over the floor. Anna would never leave her desk like this.”

Scott laughed wryly. “In fact everything on Anna’s desk is in disarray,” Kristoph noted. “Her pens are knocked over, and her favorite mug is on the floor in pieces.”

“Meaning?” Scott probed.

“Signs of struggle,” Kristoph murmured.

Silence filled the space between the two men as the significance of that sank in. It meant Alissa had been fighting to the bitter end, that she’d likely died in fear, knowing that she was going to die. Kristoph stepped away from Anna’s desk, surveying the room. He saw Alissa’s purse on one of the chairs near Anna’s bookcase. Kristoph walked over and picked it up, beginning to sort through it. Even though he knew she was dead, it still felt wrong to go through her belongings.

“What do you have there?” Scott asked, hearing Kristoph’s rummaging.

“It’s Alissa’s purse.”

“She would have slapped you if she knew you were going through her crap,” Scott said fondly.

Kristoph nodded. “Anything useful?” Scott asked.

“Makeup, checks, her cell phone.” Kristoph pulled the phone out and started going through her most recent calls. “Yesterday she made five calls. Two to Anna, one to you and two to an ‘Ida Claire,’” Kristoph read.

“Ida Claire?” Scott asked. “She’s never mentioned them before.”

“Then it seems we have a lead,” Kristoph said, calling the number and holding the phone to his ear.

Kristoph was relieved when someone picked up. “Hello, is this Ida Claire?” he asked.

Scott could only hear Kristoph’s part of the conversation. “Oh, good, we’re in the middle of a murder investigation and our victim called you yesterday.” Pause. “Alissa A. Monie.” There was a long pause. “That’d be wonderful, thank you.” Kristoph ended the call and placed the phone back in Alissa’s bag.

“What was that?” Scott asked.

“We have a meeting with Ms. Ida Claire at 10:00,” Kristoph said, clearly pleased with himself. “I think we’re done here.”

As the two were making their way to the exit, they were stopped by a loud, boisterous voice. “Where do you think you’re going, pal?”

Kristoph looked up to see a brick wall of a human blocking the exit of the crime scene, puffed up and fuming. “This is a crime scene!” the strange person said.

“We were just leaving,” Kristoph said flatly, attempting to squeeze his way out of the room.

Unfortunately, the other man showed no signs of moving. “You better not have touched anything, pal! Payne will have my head.” The man in the scruffy coat let out a heavy sigh.

Scott finally spoke up, handing the man their letter of request. “We’re the defense,” he explained.

“Oh, oh!” the man said, suddenly looking a lot happier.

“I’m Scott Free, name’s on the sign,” he gestured to the plaque on the door. “And this is Kristoph Gavin. He’s taking the lead on this case.”

“Detective Gumshoe!” the detective said loudly, causing Kristoph to wince. “Man, I don’t envy you guys. The evidence on this case is rock solid, that Turney person totally did it, pal!”

Kristoph perked up, seeing an opportunity to get more information. “And what evidence is that?”

“Well there’s the murder weapon with her prints on it. And the fact that she was the only one at the crime scene at the time of the murder. We were really lucky on this one, we got here real fast, got pictures of the crime scene before the body had even cooled!” Gumshoe said, practically bouncing with excitement.

At the last bit, Gumshoe had whipped a folder out of his coat, which Kristoph gracefully took and flipped open. Upon seeing the pictures inside, he was grateful he hadn’t stopped for breakfast; if he had anything in his stomach, he would have run the risk of coughing it up. The folder was filled with pictures of the crime scene before the body had been moved. Alissa was face down on the floor, the pair of scissors stuck at the base of her skull. More pictures, of Alissa’s body turned over, showing dark bruises blossoming on her neck and shoulders. Kristoph flipped it closed and stuffed it into his bag with the rest of the evidence.

“Is there an autopsy report?” Kristoph asked weakly.

“Of course, pal!” Gumshoe said, pulling it out of the other side of his coat.

Kristoph took it, looking over it briefly. He was relieved to see that death had been instant, and therefore painless. However, the bruises had all been sustained antemortem, meaning she’d still felt fear and known death was imminent. Kristoph filed it away.

“Thank you for your time, detective,” he said, quickly shouldering past him and ducking under the police tape.

Scott followed. “Any new info?”

Kristoph gagged. “Be grateful that you didn’t need to see those photos,” he said darkly.

Scott clapped him on the back. “You okay, kid?”

“No,” Kristoph replied. “But I’ll live.” He looked at his watch. “We still have a couple hours to kill before meeting with Ms. Claire.”

“Hungry?” Scott asked.

Kristoph wrinkled his nose. “Not after seeing the crime scene photos.” Even if he felt nauseated, he could still tell his body needed food. “But hopefully I will be by the time we get there.”

Scott squeezed his shoulder. “You’re doing great, kid,” he assured.

Kristoph nodded, remaining silent. All he could think about was that he needed to do better, if he was going to get Anna out of prison.

Scott drove them the fifteen minutes to his place for breakfast. He had a modest house in the suburbs of Los Angeles, small, cozy, and unremarkable save for its proximity to the city. Kristoph sat at the small kitchen table, evidence spread out on the table in front of him. Meanwhile Scott stood at the stove, sleeves rolled up to his elbows as he cooked breakfast, the sizzle of bacon and the drip-drip-drip of the coffee machine filling the kitchen.

“You can stare at the evidence all you want, it’s not going to make new leads out of nothing,” Scott said over his shoulder.

Kristoph stared at his copy of the crime scene photos, exposure to them making them less revolting over time. He had powered through the initial repulsion, repeating to himself that it was his duty to look over every detail, no matter how gruesome, on the off-chance that it hid the key to Anna’s freedom.

“How do I know when I’m missing something?” Kristoph asked, flipping between the photos and the autopsy report.

Scott shrugged. “Experience. It’s just a feeling you get when you’ve been on the job awhile. You look at something and you just know it doesn’t fit,” Scott tried to explain.

Kristoph glanced at the crime scene photos with disdain. “I’m certainly feeling something,” he quipped.

Scott hummed to himself. “Don’t worry too much, we have a lead. When we don’t, that’s when you start to worry.”

Kristoph sighed, gazing out the kitchen window to the small flower garden outside. It had fallen into disrepair, the flowers drooping and dry. But care had clearly been put into the garden once, some flowers still standing tall against the dry California soil. Kristoph could make out patches of snapdragons and morning glories.

“That’s a lovely garden,” Kristoph remarked. It was rare to see a well-kept garden in the midst of California. With the dryness and the heat, most found it too much work to maintain.

When Scott spoke, Kristoph could hear the melancholy in his voice. “It was Al’s,” he said fondly. “She loved that garden, any time she wasn’t working, she was out there, making sure her flowers were watered.”

Kristoph nodded. “She always did have potted flowers on her desk.”

Scott laughed softly. “Yeah, those were her trial runs. She’d practice taking care of a plant at the office before planting them out there,” he explained.

Kristoph couldn’t help the thought that without Al, the flowers in her garden and her office would wither and die. That thought was interrupted when Scott set a plate of steaming bacon and eggs in front of him. Kristoph welcomed the interruption, thanking the other man as they settled into a quiet breakfast. Until he’d started eating, Kristoph hadn’t realized how hungry, or tired, he was.

Scott sat back in his chair, taking a sip of coffee. “So, tell me about this Ida Claire person,” he ordered.

Kristoph answered slowly. “She’s a family law attorney.”

Scott nearly choked on his coffee. Instead he coughed, punctuating his coughs by fisting himself in the chest. “Excuse me?” he squeaked.

“A divorce lawyer,” Kristoph said bluntly.

Scott cleared his throat before letting out a long sigh. “I suppose there’s no way around it then,” he began.

Kristoph held up a hand. “Scott, it’s alright. I know. Al told me,” he explained.

Scott blinked, taken aback. Kristoph started eating his eggs, giving Scott a chance to recover.

“I guess that makes this easier then,” Scott said, running a hand through his hair. “We’d been discussing it for over a year now. She told me at the beginning of the month that she was going to get started.”

Kristoph nodded. “How long had you been separated?” he asked.

Scott eyed his wearily. “What gave it away?”

Kristoph gestured toward the window overlooking the garden with his chin. “You said she loved that garden, yet it’s dying. I’d assume that horticulture isn’t your forte,” he answered.

Scott looked at the garden sheepishly. “I did my best, she loved those flowers. But I’m not much for gardening,” he admitted. “She moved out at the beginning of the year.”

Kristoph nodded. “Do you know her address?” he asked.

“I even got a key from her, in case of emergencies,” Scott said with a sad smile, pushing at the food on his plate. “I suppose this is as much of an emergency as any,” he sighed.
Kristoph hummed low in agreement. “That would be our next lead then.”

Scott smiled with one side of his mouth. “Look at you, kid, you practically don’t even need me.” Scott stared at his plate for a moment. “Don’t misunderstand me, I still loved Al to bits. And what happened to her eats me up. I always thought we’d make it work somehow, we always did. And now…” Scott’s voice cracked, forcing him to stop.

“I know,” Kristoph said. “I’m sure she felt similarly.”

After the two cleaned off their plates, Scott glanced at his watch. “Hey, kid. I need to meet with that client Anna mentioned. You can take my car and talk to that divorce lawyer. I don’t really want to talk to her anyway,” he grumbled.

Kristoph raised an eyebrow. “How are you going to get to the client?”

Scott gestured to the street. “I’ll take the metro. It’s how I did it back in my college days before I could afford a car.”

Kristoph shrugged. “Have it your way.”

Scott clapped him on the back, as if Kristoph was doing him some huge favor. “Just come back here when you’re done and we’ll head to Al’s apartment.”

Scott tossed Kristoph the car keys as he headed out the door. Kristoph shook his head, before heading to where Scott had parked his old clunker. He met the divorce lawyer at a public café that Ms. Claire had insisted upon. She’d said she was squeezing him in between clients and that the café was the midpoint between them. Kristoph arrived there promptly at 10:00, and saw a sharply dressed woman with cropped hair sitting in the corner, a mug of steaming coffee in front of her.

He approached her slowly. “Ms. Claire?” he asked.

She looked up at him sharply. “Yes?”

Kristoph held out his hand. “Kristoph Gavin, attorney at law.” He felt a rush of power using that phrase for the first time. It had a nice ring to it, accentuated by the attorney’s badge proudly displayed on his lapel. “I’m here to talk about Alissa Monie.”

She took his hand, giving him a quick but firm shake. “Ida Claire, take a seat,” she instructed.

Kristoph obeyed quickly, taking a seat across from her. “I normally wouldn’t discuss my clients with people, but you said that Ms. Monie was a victim in your case?” she asked.
“Yes, last night, Ms. Monie was found murdered in her place of work,” Kristoph said bluntly.

Ms. Claire was clearly unsettled, her eyes growing wide as she shifted uncomfortably in her chair. “That’s… unfortunate.” She quickly recovered, sitting straight in her seat again. “What do you need from me?”

Kristoph cleared his throat. “You were one of the last people to talk to Ms. Monie that day. I was hoping you could give me more information about what you discussed.”

Ms. Claire nodded. “I was meeting her that day, she was petitioning for divorce and we were finalizing the paperwork. It was a short meeting, we went over the forms, I signed, she signed, and then she left,” she explained.

Kristoph perked up. “What time was this?”

“It was ten in the evening. I normally don’t work that late, but I happened to be working near her office that day and we agreed that we’d go over the documents there,” Ida explained.

Kristoph’s could feel his heart pumping. This was fantastic news! Now he had a witness who had seen Alissa alive just two hours before the murder at the crime scene. Surely she had seen something important, or had some lead she could give him.

“So you saw Ms. Monie in her office? At 10:00?” Kristoph confirmed.

The other attorney looked at him crossly. “Yes, that’s what I just said,” she said firmly.

One thing struck Kristoph as odd. “We didn’t see any divorce papers at the crime scene.”

Ms. Claire shrugged. “She definitely had them when I left,” she said flippantly.

“Do you happen to have a copy with you?” Kristoph asked hopefully.

Ms. Claire looked at him with annoyance. “No.” She looked at her watch. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to meet with my next client,” she said, standing from the table.

Kristoph reached into his pocket. “Here’s my card, please call if you remember anything else,” he insisted, thrusting the card into her hands.

Ida Claire took the card with thinly veiled exasperation, pocketing it. “Of course.”

“Thank you for your time,” Kristoph called as she strode quickly out of the café.

Walking back to Scott’s car, Kristoph wondered what he’d gained from that meeting. All I learned was that Al had divorce papers with her two hours before Anna arrived, and in those two hours those papers mysteriously disappeared. Kristoph started the car and hurried back to Scott’s house.

Upon meeting up, Scott took them to Alissa’s new residence. It was a quaint townhouse in a small subdivision that housed its fair share of UCLA students. Kristoph figured it was probably the cheapest place she could find on short notice. When Kristoph stepped inside, he noted the flowerpots sitting on every available windowsill. That was one of the downsides of renting, not being able to alter the land.

“So what did you and Ms. Ida Claire talk about?” Scott asked as Kristoph surveyed the small living space.

“She met with Al at the office to talk about divorce papers,” Kristoph answered.

Out of the corner of his eye, Kristoph saw Scott flinch. “Ah.”

Kristoph continued. “The funny thing is, I didn’t find any divorce papers when I investigated the office,” he said.

Scott looked at him skeptically. “You think missing divorce papers are a clue?”

Kristoph shrugged. “It’s the only lead I have, so I’m going to follow it,” he insisted.

Scott barked out a laugh. “Spoken like a true lawyer,” he teased, picking up a pot of poppies.

On the kitchen counter, Kristoph eyed a planner, opened to the day before. “It seems Al was busy yesterday,” Kristoph noted. “She has work blocked off from nine to five. Then she went to dinner with you and Anna. Then grocery shopping. And then she went to the office at eight, until ten when she met with Ms. Claire,” Kristoph read off.

Scott nodded. “We ate at that noodle stand on the corner. The one that you hate,” he said.

“Disgusting. Enjoy your cholesterol,” Kristoph grumbled.

Scott laughed. “I don’t know how you got through college without those noodles. They’re cheap as dirt and one bowl lasts you for three meals,” he said with fondness.

“Because you can only eat a few bites before overdosing on sodium,” Kristoph muttered with a scowl.

Scott shrugged. “Find anything?”

Kristoph flipped through Alissa’s checkbook that he found in one of her drawers. “She was saving up to buy a chinchilla.”

Scott glanced back. “Any chance the chinchilla was the murderer?”

“The chinchilla, in the office, with the scissors?” Kristoph asked. “Not likely.”

Kristoph moved to her bedroom. He tried to ignore the feeling of guilt at invading his friend’s privacy. He had to remind himself that it was for a case, and that the clue that would make everything fall into place could be in here. Anna had a calendar on the wall showing a picture of the balmy tropics. Kristoph flipped through it, looking for any important dates.

“She liked the Bahamas?” he called out to Scott.

Scott followed Kristoph’s voice into the bedroom, eyes immediately falling to the calendar on the wall. “Yeah, she always wanted to go,” he sighed. “We got married right after law school, never got a proper honeymoon. I always told her ‘next year, honey.’”

Kristoph stood back as Scott began flipping through the calendar with a bittersweet smile on his face. “I assume it never happened?”

Scott shook his head. “There was always something more important. Some big case, or innocent that needed defending. So I just kept telling her ‘next year, we’ll go next year.’” Scott stopped, rubbing at his eyes with his sleeve.

Their search didn’t turn up anything else. “Still, no papers,” Kristoph said under his breath.

“We can go back to the office and take a look. Did we examine every paper there?” Scott asked.

Kristoph shook his head. “Good point. And if that doesn’t work we can look in her car, it should still be at the office.”

The police had completely vacated the office, the police tape still lining the door. The detectives had removed Alissa’s purse from the crime scene, likely filing it into evidence. Kristoph frowned as he began to sort through all of the papers scattered on the floor and on Anna’s desk. An hour passed. Having gone through every loose paper on the desk, and all the drawers, Kristoph started pulling the books off of Anna’s shelf and flipping through their pages, on the off-chance that Alissa had stashed it there. Twenty minutes ago, he’d sent Scott off to look in his and Alissa’s offices, thinking maybe she’d left it there.

Another hour passed, and the office had been turned upside down. Desks had been moved, rugs had been ripped off the floor, and Kristoph had even unearthed all of Alissa’s plants in desperation.

“It’s not here!” Kristoph spat, sweat beading on his brow.
Scott eyed him, slightly concerned for the frazzled rookie. “I think it’s time we look at Al’s car,” he suggested.

Kristoph let out a long breath, running his fingers through his hair in an attempt to tame it before nodding.

Alissa’s car was parked in front of the building, untouched from when she’d left it the night before. When Kristoph walked up to it, he realized the flaw in their plan.

“It’s locked,” he said flatly, staring through the dirty window to the interior of the car.

Scott huffed. “It’s an old car, so that’s no problem,” he insisted.

Kristoph glanced at him curiously. “What does that have to do with anything?” he asked.

“Give me your shoe string,” Scott demanded, holding out a hand.

“Excuse me?” Kristoph asked indignantly. “These shoes are expensive!”

Scott rolled his eyes. “You can restring them you big baby.” Scott thrust his hands out again with more emphasis.

Kristoph huffed in annoyance, bending down to untie his shoe. After a few moments, he pulled the string out and angrily put it in Scott’s open palm. Scott made quick work, tying the string into a slipknot. He pulled at the top corner of the driver’s side door, dropping the open knot in before letting go, quickly working the knot down.

Kristoph watched in horror. “Are you breaking into her car?” he asked, his voice taking on an air of disgust.

Scott shrugged, continuing to work the string into the car. “I wouldn’t have to if someone had grabbed the keys out of her purse,” he replied. “Now make yourself useful and keep watch.”

Kristoph scoffed, turning and obediently surveying the parking lot despite his objections. “Right, I didn’t realize I should steal from a dead woman.”

“Rule number one of being a lawyer: take anything that’s not nailed down.”

Kristoph rolled his eyes. “You are a representative of justice.”

Scott glanced at Kristoph over his shoulder. “Do you want to get into her car or not?”

Kristoph stayed silent, shaking his head in dismay. “I don’t want to know where you learned this.”

Scott shrugged. “Comes with the job. Al would be fine with it.” With that, the car clicked and Scott proudly swung the door open. “There. And your precious shoelace is in one piece.” He put said shoelace back in Kristoph’s hand.

Kristoph slipped the shoelace back into his pocket, climbing into the passenger’s seat and beginning to sort through Alissa’s (thankfully unlocked) glove box. Unfortunately, despite all the effort they’d put into searching Alissa’s car, the divorce papers were nowhere to be found.

“This is ridiculous,” Kristoph huffed in exasperation, throwing his head back against the seat. “Important legal documents don’t just vanish into thin air!” he exclaimed.

Scott sat back, hands instinctively on the steering wheel. “You think the murderer took them?” he asked.

Kristoph threw up his hands. “I suppose that’s the only thing that makes sense. Except for the fact that it makes exactly zero sense.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why in the world would someone take divorce papers from a crime scene?”

Scott shrugged. “Why would a murderer have to?” he countered.

Kristoph stared at the ceiling. “There was evidence on them,” Kristoph answered.

Scott clucked with his tongue. “Bingo. Blood, saliva, fingerprints. Anything like that would force someone to take them.

Kristoph closed his eyes. “Then we need to find them if we want any chance of saving Anna.”

Scott nodded in agreement. Kristoph turned his head to weakly look his mentor. “But we’re completely out of leads, and we don’t even have a suspect.”

Once again, Scott nodded in agreement. “A lot of times, that’s how it goes.”

Kristoph growled in the back of his throat. “So that’s it? We just give up and hope for the best tomorrow?” he snapped.

“What else would you recommend? Like you said, we’re out of leads. There’s nothing else we can do!” Scott shouted.

Kristoph curled his hands into fist. “Even so, we can’t just give up,” he insisted.

Scott sighed heavily. “Kid, at this point it’s best to call it, go home, and familiarize yourself with the evidence you do have instead of trying to make leads appear out of nothing.”

Kristoph folded his arms across his chest, looking away. “Fine,” he agreed reluctantly. “You would know best.”

Kristoph sat in his living room, all the pieces of evidence laid out in front of him. He’d gone over every line in the autopsy report, burned every grisly detail of the crime scene photos into his brain, and repeated his conversation with Ms. Claire. He’d been doing this for hours, until he was reduced to sitting in the middle of his evidence, ready to tear his hair out if it would give him a lead.

He reread the autopsy report for the hundredth time, reading the words he could recite on command.

“Time of death, between 11:30 and 12:00,” he read to himself. “Antemortem bruises on neck and shoulders, suggesting a struggle. Cause of death, stab wound at the base of the skull, severing the spinal cord and entering the brain. Death instantaneous.”

Kristoph had read the words enough times to detach himself from their meaning, and from the fact that these were things that had happened to his friend. Kristoph bent over, head in his hands, nails digging into his skull. Maybe if he had a week, he could investigate further and find another lead. But he didn’t have a week, he had a day. The trial was the next morning, and if he didn’t find another piece of evidence to prove Anna’s innocence, then she was going to be sentenced to death for a murder she didn’t commit.

There wasn’t enough evidence to prove that. There wasn’t enough time. He’d promised Anna he’d save her, but the trial hadn’t even started and he’d already lost. There had to be something else, something he could do. Kristoph was ready to make a deal with the devil if that would win his case.

Kristoph felt a lightbulb go off in his head. Kristoph shot up, grabbing his keys off the counter and rushed out to his car. It was early evening, so there was still time. Kristoph kept his foot heavy on the pedal, speeding down Hollywood Freeway. An hour later he pulled up to an elegant house overlooking Santa Barbara as the sun set over the ocean.
Kristoph raced to the front door, banging on it incessantly until it opened. The door cracked open to reveal a tanned older man in a half buttoned shirt, scowling harshly at the young man on his doorstep.

“Do I know you?” Ford Germaine snapped.

Kristoph pushed on the door, forcing his way into the house. “Kristoph Gavin, attorney. I met with you nearly a year ago about a case.”

Ford gave him a skeptical look, before his frown deepened. “Right, that pesky lawyer. I certainly didn’t expect to see you again,” he grumbled, grabbing a wine glass he’d set off to the side.

Kristoph let out a breath, gritting his teeth through his next words. “I need your help.”

Chapter Text

Scott stared at Kristoph as they waited in Defendant Lobby No. 2. For the first time Scott could recall, Kristoph was visibly nervous, arms crossed tightly across his chest as he fiddled with his attorney’s badge. Anna, who stood between them, was giving Kristoph worrying looks, as if she wasn’t the one about to go on trial.

“Gavin, breathe,” she instructed. “This isn’t the first time you’ve been at the bench.”

Kristoph’s frown deepened. “Maybe not, but it’s certainly the most important.” He gave Anna an appraising look. “Aren’t you nervous at all?” he asked in disbelief.

Anna smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “I know I’m innocent. I trust you to prove that,” she said. To her defense team, it almost sounded like she believed it.

Scott and Kristoph shared a glance. Did Anna know how dire their case was? Scott surmised that she had likely gathered as much. She was a realistic person, and she had enough courtroom experience to know how trials usually went, and how quickly they could go downhill even in the best of circumstances. It was this that kept her assurances from being much comfort to Kristoph.

Scott put a hand on the younger attorney’s shoulder. “You’ve got two ace attorneys at your back kid. Go get some water, take a walk. Don’t want the prosecution to see you shaking in your boots,” Scott advised.

Kristoph threw a glance towards Anna before nodding. “Alright, I’ll just be a minute. Hold these for me.” Kristoph pushed his stack of evidence files into Scott’s waiting hands, before walking down the hall and out of sight.

Once Kristoph had turned the corner, Anna’s smile faded, and Scott finally got a chance to see the anxiousness that lurked under that confident exterior. “I guess you’re aware that things don’t look good?” he asked.

Anna nodded, twirling the buttons on her suit jacket. “Believe me, I know. And my guess is that we don’t have a solid case?”

Scott sighed and shook his head. Anna looked away, staring intensely at the wall. “We’ve pulled through on tougher cases before,” Scott reminded her.

“I know,” she sighed. “Somehow that’s not as comforting when it’s my neck on the butcher’s block.”

A heavy silence fell between the two coworkers, filled with the realization that this might be their last meeting as such. A decade of partnership cut short. Scott fumed at the thought that his golden years might end like this. All the hours they’d spent working together, defending the weak, and all the memories they’d made: Scott had thought they would go on forever.

“If the worst happens,” Anna said weakly. “I want you to know; it’s been an honor working with you.” A small, sad smile lit up Anna’s face.

“Likewise,” Scott said, returning her smile.

“And tell Kristoph that it’s alright, and that I know he did everything in his power.”

Scott dipped his head. “Of course, but.” Scott’s mouth twisted into an upbeat smirk. “I can’t have my defendant talking like that!”

Around the corner in the bathroom, Kristoph stood in front of the mirror, gripping the edge of the sink with white knuckles. His hands shook with such force that it traveled up his arms. He stared at himself in the mirror, through icy blue eyes. Hair unmade, Kristoph looked like a man unhinged, bare and raw before himself. Looking at his own eyes, he imagined he was staring into his soul.

What kind of man am I, he wondered. Did the end justify the means? Was there a place for idealism and morals in a court that’s stacked against him? How did virtue balance against saving an innocent on the scales of justice? Was it selfish to discard everything he’d been taught to save a friend? What kind of person did he become when he resorted to the very methods he loathed?

Kristoph’s hands relaxed on the sink, fingers uncurling with painful slowness. An eerie calm fell over him, as he stood straight and began to puts his hand to work, refashioning his hair. I’m the man who’s going to save Anna’s life.

“All rise for the trial of Anna Turney, accused of the murder of Alissa A. Monie,” the judge called, his gavel sounding throughout the courtroom.

Kristoph had his evidence spread out in front of him, meager as it was. He tried to draw strength from Scott and Anna at his side. Even though he was on the same side of the court he’d always been, it somehow looked vastly different from a few feet to the left. From here he was standing directly across from Prosecutor Payne in all his smug glory.

“Is the defense ready?” the judge asked.

Kristoph took a moment, glancing to his side to see both Scott and Anna’s encouraging looks. “Yes. The defense is ready, your honor,” Kristoph said coolly.

“The prosecution is also ready,” Payne said, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Then let us begin.”

As the prosecution began going over the details of the case, Kristoph felt disconnected from himself. It felt as if the trial was going on around him, but he wasn’t really there, instead watching from somewhere outside his own body. He felt faint, like the world was spinning and he would do anything to make it stop. He unconsciously mimicked Anna’s pose when she was at the bench, with his hands tucked behind his back, standing straight and tall. It gave him a modicum of strength.

“It’s a simple case, the defendant was the only one at the scene of the crime, and her prints are all over the murder weapon,” the prosecutor explained.

“I see,” the judge murmured. “It does sound like a very straightforward case!” the judge agreed. “You may call your first witness.”

“The prosecution calls the lead detective on the case to the stand, a Detective Dick Gumshoe.”

The broad shouldered detective from the day before took the stand, overflowing with confidence just like the day before. “Name and occupation,” Payne instructed.

“Dick Gumshoe, detective.”

“Please testify about what you found at the crime scene,” the prosecutor ordered.

At those words, Kristoph tightened his grip on his wrist, trying to ground himself in the courtroom. My name is Kristoph Gavin. I am defending Anna Turney. He kept repeating those two phrases in his head, desperate to remind himself where he was and what he was there for.

Detective Gumshoe continued. “Like Mr. Payne said, it’s pretty simple. The victim was found murdered in Mrs. Turney’s office with a pair of scissors. Mrs. Turney’s prints were the only ones on the murder weapon. If the defendant didn’t murder the victim, how else would her prints get on the weapon?”

Kristoph slammed a hand down on the bench. The noise caught the attention of everyone in the courtroom, expecting an objection to follow. A beat passed, as Kristoph tried to remember what it was he meant to say.

Scott gave him a small nudge. “Objection, kid,” he whispered.

“Objection!” Kristoph exclaimed loudly.

Payne grinned smugly at the rookie attorney. Kristoph tried not to let it shake him, standing tall again as he levelled Gumshoe with his gaze. “You just said the murder occurred in the defendant’s office. Of course her prints were on the scissors!” Kristoph pointed out.

This contradiction seemed to phase the detective, however Payne’s smile just deepened. “What the rookie says is true,” he admitted. “However, as the detective said her prints were the only ones on the murder weapon. And before you say the murderer was wearing gloves, Mrs. Turney’s prints weren’t smudged, which they would be if someone wearing gloves had used them.”

The judge nodded. “I see. Detective, please update your testimony,” he ordered.

“Of course, your honor,” Gumshoe said, having shaken off Kristoph’s objection with ease. “As the prosecutor said, the prints weren’t smudged, meaning the defendant is the only one who could’ve stabbed the victim,” he repeated dutifully.

Damn it, Kristoph thought. Of course it wouldn’t be that easy. Kristoph spread out the evidence in front of him. There had to be a contradiction in this new testimony. What the detective said was true. If Anna’s prints were the only ones on the murder weapon, then she was the only one that could have stabbed Al. 

She was the only one that could have stabbed Al. Kristoph grabbed the photo of the desk he’d taken the day before.

“Objection!” he shouted again, more confidently this time as he passed the photo to the bailiff who carried it to the judge.

“What’s this?” the judge asked, squinting at the photo. “The crime scene?”

Kristoph folded his arms over his chest. “What the detective says is true. My client is the only one that could have stabbed the victim,” he agreed.

Payne barked out a laugh from the other side of the courtroom. “So you admit that your client is guilty?” he screeched. “I have to say, I expected more out of Mrs. Turney’s apprentice.”

Kristoph could feel Scott’s confused stare boring into his back as Kristoph’s mouth formed a wicked smirk. He bowed his head, holding his hands up and shaking his head. The confident gesture had the desired effect, making Payne wilt where he stood.

“You misunderstand me. Mrs. Turney is the only one who could have stabbed the victim,” Kristoph said, refolding his arms across his chest.

“I’m afraid I don’t follow,” the judge admitted.

“In the photo I handed you, note the trail of blood on the desk to where the victim was found on the floor,” Kristoph instructed.

“Yes, I see,” the judge hummed.

“This indicates that the victim was stabbed on the desk before falling to the floor. Now, where would be a likely place to keep scissors?” Kristoph asked, smirking to himself at the confidence surging through him as the courtroom hung on his every word.

“Why, on the desk of course!” the judge replied.

Kristoph nodded. “Exactly. Now, if they had been stored in Mrs. Turney’s pen stand blades up…”

“Urk!” Payne gasped from the prosecutor’s bench, curling over as if he’d been punched in the stomach.

“It is completely possible that Ms. Monie fell on them, making this ‘murder’ an unfortunate accident!” Kristoph exclaimed, feeling a surge of power go through him.

What is this feeling? Unlike only moments before, now Kristoph felt completely at ease in his body, in control. It was an exhilaration that he’d never felt before. The court was his to direct as he pleased. This is what I've trained to do all these years! To stand here and defend!

“Objection!” Payne shrieked.

And just like that, Kristoph lost the control he’d just gained. “Has the defense forgotten? The victim sustained significant bruising before death on her neck and shoulders. Were these also ‘unfortunate accidents?’” Payne mocked.

Kristoph clutched the bench with one hand, glaring at Payne over his glasses. I hadn’t forgotten. But I was hoping you had. Kristoph felt the familiar weight of a hand on his shoulder. He glanced back to see Scott giving him encouraging eyes.

“Good detective work, kid. You shook him up.”

Kristoph glanced over at Payne. “But it wasn’t enough,” he spat.

“Not yet, but follow through.”

Kristoph turned back to Payne, who was still speaking to the court. “The bruising on the victim indicates that this was a murder, and once again, the defendant is the only one that can be place at the scene at that time. Therefore, Mrs. Turney is the only one who could have murdered the victim!”

Kristoph remained silent, putting both hands on the bench. He stared at the evidence in front of him, swimming before his eyes. He had hoped that his objections would be enough to at least earn him more time, that he could drag this trial on for another day. But already, Payne was asking the judge to declare a verdict.

“If there is no more evidence to be presented, then I see no reason to prolong this trial,” the judge said, already beginning to raise his gavel.

Kristoph was broken out of his trance when he felt a small pair of hands take his off the bench. “Kristoph, it’s alright,” Anna said warmly beside him.

I’m sorry, Scott. But I have to save Anna!

Kristoph ripped his hand out of Anna’s grasp and slammed it down on the bench. “Objection!”

The court fell silent, the judge’s gavel stopped at the apex of its arc. Kristoph eyed the courtroom, feeling a dark power surge through him again. “I hoped I wouldn’t have to do this,” Kristoph lamented aloud. “But I have evidence that proves my client was not the only one at the scene.”

The judge furrowed his brow and Panye doubled over in confusion. Kristoph parted his stack of evidence like the Red Sea, pulling a lone document from the bottom of the pile. “This is a petition for divorce, signed by the victim and her attorney the day of her murder,” Kristoph announced, passing the document along to the judge.

“You found it?” Scott asked in elation. Kristoph ignored him, continuing his presentation.

“I have a witness that can confirm that this paper was signed only two hours before the victim was killed. The GPS in Ms. Monie's car shows that she did not leave the office between 10:00 and 12:00,” he explained.

“What does that prove?” Payne snapped.

Kristoph continued, undeterred. “Despite being on the victim at the time of her murder, these papers were not found at the crime scene. Therefore the only way someone could come into possession of these papers is if they were at the scene at the time of the murder,” Kristoph said with an unnerving calmness.

A chill ran down Anna’s spine as she watched him. He was much too calm for someone presenting key evidence. He only radiated control and power, leading the trial to its final conclusion.

“Well, spit it out then, where did you find it?” the judge asked in anticipation.

Kristoph’s nails dug into the bench. This was it, no turning back. However, Kristoph had known he'd sealed his fate the moment he’d taken Anna’s case.

“They were found in the residence of the victim’s husband. Mr. Scott Free!” Kristoph said, feeling that same intoxicating feeling flow through him.

The courtroom was silent, the only sound a shocked gasp from the defendant as she whirled on her co-counsel. Scott himself appeared shell-shocked.

“Kristoph, what are you doing?” he snapped.

Kristoph took hold of that calmness in him and let it carry him on. “If you examine the papers in hand, you’ll find Mr. Free’s prints, and only his prints on them.” Kristoph took a deep breath. “Furthermore, the only person who had anything to gain by removing these papers from the scene was Mr. Free! By removing these papers Mr. Free directed suspicion away from himself and onto my client.”

Anna stared at both Scott and Kristoph in disbelief, unsure of who she should trust. “Kristoph, you know I’d never hurt Al!” Scott hissed.

Kristoph was unflappable. “The victim presented Mr. Free with these papers. They had an argument, that escalated into a fight. It resulted in Ms. Monie’s death, and Mr. Free took the papers from the scene in order to misdirect the investigation,” Kristoph explained coolly.

Scott put a crushing hand on Kristoph’s shoulder. “You can’t believe this. You know I’d never do any of that!”

Kristoph clenched his fists, fighting not to look at his friend. “The evidence suggests otherwise.”

Scott slammed his fists down on the bench, a hollow echo ringing through the courtroom. “The evidence is wrong!” he cried.

Kristoph stared down at the evidence spread in front of him, the photos of Al, the autopsy report, and finally, the original copy of the divorce papers that sealed Scott’s fate. “Evidence is everything in court,” he said coolly.

 
Ford Germaine stared at Kristoph in disbelief. “And why should I help you?” he asked drily.

“I kept quiet about your involvement in the Saller case. Repay me and your debt will be paid,” Kristoph offered.

Ford swirled his wine in its glass, pursing his lips in thought. “I do hate having unpaid debts,” he mused. “Let me see what you have.”

Kristoph eagerly handed him the case file. He watched in silence as Ford flipped through it, juggling the file and his wine glass. His eyes skimmed over the evidence, flipping quickly through the crime scene photos. After a few minutes he handed the file back.

“What makes you think I can help you?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“If you can’t then surely you know someone who can.”

“Well, you’re in luck. I’ve crafted documents before, and they happen to be much easier than works of art.” Ford began striding through his foyer, motioning for Kristoph to follow.

Mere minutes later, Kristoph sat in Ford’s desk chair, continuing to thumb through his files while Ford sat across from him, pen in hand. “Now, do you have samples of the lovely ladies’ signatures?” he asked.

Kristoph pulled one of Ida Claire’s business cards out of his pocket, thankful that she had a print of her signature on one side. “I believe I have some work documents Al signed in my glove compartment,” Kristoph said, standing.

He returned a few minutes later to see Ford diligently copying the attorney’s signature onto the paper. Kristoph couldn’t help but watch over his shoulder as he marked out the woman’s signature with perfect precision.

“Do you need something?” Ford snapped irritably.

“It’s fascinating,” Kristoph replied.

“Sure, but don’t hover. It’s creepy,” Ford muttered, gesturing back to the chair Kristoph had been sitting in.

Kristoph took a seat obediently, continuing to watch Ford at work.

“Have you figured out what you want to do with these papers?” Ford asked, moving onto Al’s signature.

Kristoph sighed, gazing out the window that looked over Santa Barbara. “I need a suspect,” he sighed.

“Sure do,” Ford agreed. “This chick’s husband sounds like as good a person as any,” he suggested.

Kristoph scowled. “I can’t, he’s a friend.”

Ford glanced up, giving Kristoph an exasperated look. “If you can make another perfect candidate appear, then you can be picky. Forgery is a tricky business, I can’t make DNA appear out of thin air so you have to stick to what’s on paper,” Ford explained. “And what I’m seeing on paper is this chick wanted out, hubby wasn’t cool with it, and shit happened. It’s a very believable story.”

Kristoph continued looking out over the dark ocean. “Spoken like a true criminal,” he said spitefully.

Ford scoffed. “You say that as if you aren’t a criminal yourself.”

Kristoph wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Oh please, don’t compare me to you.”

“You protected a criminal. Last I recall that’s a crime. And now you’re willing to present fake evidence and send a possibly innocent person to die. That’s an even worse crime,” Ford pointed out.

Kristoph stared down at his lap. “There’s no other way. I told Anna I’d save her.”

Ford shrugged. “Maybe there isn’t. Doesn’t change the fact that you’re still breaking quite a few laws.”

Kristoph glared at him. “Your point?”

“We’re both criminals.” Ford made a final flourish with his pen. “I’m just honest about it.”

Kristoph scowled, earning a nonchalant shrug from Ford. “And my advice, criminal to criminal: you can’t afford to have too many friends.”

The trial came to a quick close after that. Kristoph stood in the Defendant Lobby, numb to the world around him. He stared at the doors, watching people trickle out. In court, he’d felt powerful and in control, but now he felt anything but. He kept expecting to hear a comforting word from beside him, feel a warm hand on his shoulder. But there was no one at his side now, he was alone.

“Hey! Kristoph Gavin?” he heard a cheery voice from beside him.

“Hm?” Kristoph turned slightly with glassy eyes, seeing but not processing.

There was another person in front of him, someone that seemed familiar but he couldn’t place. “That was a really tense trial! You really kept it together!” he said with a smile and warm eyes.

Kristoph blinked. “Yes,” he said flatly, feeling disconnected from his emotions.

“Sorry, I should’ve introduced myself,” he began.

“You’re Phoenix Wright,” Kristoph blurted out, suddenly realizing where he recognized the other man from. It was hard to forget that excessively spiky hair and trademark blue suit that had been on the cover of every legal magazine for months.

Phoenix rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “I see word gets around.”

“Something like that,” Kristoph murmured.

Phoenix shook himself, seeming to remember why he’d approached Kristoph in the first place. “I just wanted to congratulate you. That was a tough trial! Especially for a first case.”

Kristoph nodded in agreement. “It was.”

“Mia mentioned your offices a couple times. That’s why I decided to drop in. You seemed to know exactly what you were doing! To be honest, most of the time in court I’m just making stuff up as I go,” Phoenix admitted, with that large, bashful grin of his.

Kristoph was unsure how to respond to that. Normally he’d make a sarcastic comment, but after that trial his words had failed him.

“Are you okay?” Phoenix asked gently, and it was then that Kristoph realized what he’d really approached him for.

“One of my mentors is dead and I just sent the other to prison,” Kristoph answered drily.

Phoenix wilted. “Right, obviously.” Phoenix took a small breath. “Things were really hard after Mia died. Especially having to turn around and take on a trial right after.”

Kristoph realized the other defense attorney was attempting to connect with him. “And I can’t imagine what it’s like to have to send someone you trusted to prison.

“But Mia’s sister really helped me get through it. You still have Mrs. Turney, I’m sure she understands.”

Kristoph had a feeling she didn’t know the half of it. But he appreciated the sentiment nonetheless. “Thank you, Mr. Wright,” Kristoph said.

“Oh, please, just…”

Phoenix was interrupted by Kristoph being hit in the chest with a small woman, arms thrown around his neck. “Thank god!” Anna cried, face buried in Kristoph’s chest.

Kristoph was unsure what to do with his hands, all of a sudden having an armful of attorney. He tentatively wrapped them around her torso, exchanging a comforting hug. Anna began shaking slightly against his chest, and he was faced with the terrifying prospect that his mentor was crying. He cautiously rubbed her back, afraid that doing something wrong would be like stepping on a minefield. After a few minutes, Anna raised her head to look at Kristoph through wet lashes.

“Kristoph, you did wonderfully. I’ve never seen someone take command of the courtroom on their first trial,” she said, pulling away to hold him at arms’ length.

Kristoph closed his eyes. “Thank you,” he murmured.

Anna rubbed at her eyes. “I was so scared. I was sure this was it,” she admitted.

Kristoph peered out of one eye. “I’m glad to know you had such faith in me,” he deadpanned.

She smacked his shoulder lightly. “You know it wasn’t that.”

“I know,” Kristoph said quietly.

Anna dissolved into a warm, motherly smile, tears trailing down her cheeks. “But look at you!” She moved her hands to cup his cheeks gently. “You made me so proud!”

Kristoph couldn’t help but crack a smile. “I was taught by the best.”

Anna’s smile quivered before she choked. “I can’t believe Scott would do something like that.”

Kristoph felt like he’d been punched in the gut, he stomach dropping through the floor. “Me neither,” he said weakly.

As Anna tried to contain herself, Kristoph stared over her shoulder. He told himself that if Anna hadn’t murdered Alissa, then in all likelihood it was Scott. They were the only two who could have done it, right? And the disappearing divorce papers pointed to Scott as the culprit. So Kristoph was still serving justice, wasn’t he? No matter how many times he repeated that to himself, he couldn’t shake the whisper of doubt. He could wonder until the end of days, but without evidence, he would never know who had truly murdered Alissa, his dear friend. Whether it really was Scott, or whether Alissa’s murderer still walked free would remain a mystery.

Kristoph squeezed Anna’s shoulder gently, watching as she continued to cry for her lost friends. “Let me take you home.”

Anna nodded, still wiping at her eyes. “Please.”

It was only then when Kristoph looked up that he realized Phoenix Wright had disappeared into the crowd.

Chapter Text

Two days after Anna’s trial ended, she and Kristoph gathered in Anna’s office, crowded around the small TV she kept on her bookshelf. The previous afternoon, they’d cleaned the blood off the floor and pulled up the white tape that marked where Al’s body once laid. Now the floor looked as it always had, all the evidence of the horrible crime that had taken place wiped away. Anna sat in her chair, feet tucked under her as she hugged a blanket around her shoulders. Kristoph couldn’t help thinking she looked unnervingly vulnerable. She was clearly still in shock. Kristoph wondered if she would ever recover from the trial that had ended two of her closest friendships. He wondered the same about himself.

On Anna’s TV, the court proceedings for Scott’s trial were being broadcast. Anna watched with clouded eyes. Kristoph was more concerned with watching Anna, and making sure she was in a healthy state of mind. Anna’s wife had wanted to come watch Scott’s trial with them, but Anna had insisted she didn’t want her involved. So Kristoph had been entrusted with the duty of turning off the feed if it got to be too much.

“He has some hack from legal aid,” Anna muttered, watching Scott’s defense attorney fumble at the bench. “There’s no hope for him, now.”

Kristoph watched her expression, flat and unemotional. “Is that good?” he asked.

Anna was still and lifeless, like she lacked the energy to even emote. “I suppose,” she mused. “I’m glad that justice is being served.”

Kristoph’s throat tightened, and all he could do was nod in agreement.

“But…” From the stony appearance she wore, Kristoph sensed that she was speaking her thoughts, rather than speaking to him. “He was my friend for over a decade. I can’t just let go of that, no matter what he’s done.”

Kristoph nodded in agreement. He felt similarly, though for different reasons than Anna. After all, Scott was one of his closest friends, too. And yet, he’d sent Scott to prison, and possibly his death, in order to ensure that Anna wouldn’t suffer the same fate. It didn’t change the fact that Scott was still a close friend. But Anna had been the one who hired him and took care of him like the mother he’d never had. He’d been backed into a corner and made to choose between two close friends. He made his choice, and if he were to go back and do it again, he knew he’d make the same choice.

If the courts had any sense of balance, Kristoph never would have been put in a position where a choice was necessary. Anna had a wife and children waiting for her, and because of Kristoph she would get to see them again. Anna would get to live out the rest of her life happy and free. Isn’t that what Kristoph had hoped to achieve when he’d gone to law school?

Kristoph reached across Anna’s desk to where she’d turned a picture frame over. He picked it up, turning it over so that he could see the photo inside. It was a picture of the four of them, Anna, Scott, Alissa, and Kristoph, taken at the beginning of the previous year. It had been after Kristoph got his grades from the previous semester, and the office had toasted his continued good academic standing. The four of them were all pleasantly buzzed on champagne, smiling brightly. Kristoph imagined the happy faces of Al and Scott fading away, no longer with them.

“Do you remember when Scott was helping Al on that child custody case, and he suggested she put the family dog on the stand?” Kristoph asked quietly above the drone of court proceedings from the TV.

Anna couldn’t help but snort. “How could I forget? Al gave him hell for that one. But then when she was in court and she’d run out of leads she actually did it.”

Kristoph cracked a small smile. “He never let her hear the end of it.”

Anna shook her head, her true character finally breaking through the thick wall she’d put up. She was smiling once again, a sad look in her eyes. Kristoph continued.

“And the first—and only—time you took me to Eldoon’s Noodles,” Kristoph said.

Anna started laughing uncontrollably. “That was glorious. I can’t believe you let Scott order for you. He got you the saltiest dish on the menu and you had no idea. Your face when you tried it!” Anna was nearly in tears at the fond memory.

“I was tasting salt for a week,” Kristoph quipped.

Anna had genuinely started crying by then, tears slowly making their way down her face. Kristoph had the suspicion that they were tears of mixed emotions. On the TV, they were handing down Scott’s sentence. Anna and Kristoph both fell silent, watching with bated breath. Despite their misgivings, they prayed for the best, because regardless of the circumstances, Scott was still their friend.

“Due to the severe nature of this crime, and the evidence presented today in court, I hereby sentence Scott Free to death.”

Anna choked out a sob, spurring Kristoph to immediately switch off the TV. “That’s enough,” he said quietly, turning to look at Anna with soft eyes.

Anna wiped at her eyes, struggling to pull herself together. “God, I shouldn’t be so upset over this,” she spat.

Kristoph kneeled next to her, putting a consoling hand on her shoulder. “You can’t help it. As you said, you can’t force yourself to stop caring.”

Anna nodded, however the confusion in her eyes suggested she hadn’t quite taken the words to heart. “He killed Al.”

Kristoph stayed silent, continuing to rub circles into her back. His eyes shifted away from her to the floor in shame. Anna was too caught up in her own emotions to notice the ones radiating off of Kristoph.

“He murdered my best friend in cold blood and was ready to let me take the fall for it. And yet here I am, crying over him,” she spat angrily. “It’s insulting to Al’s memory.”

Kristoph continued to stare at the floor, his own guilt and shame clouding his thoughts. He tried to imagine what he might say if he didn’t know what he knew. But that was impossible, because he knew Anna’s anger was unfounded, and that Scott was unjustly sentenced. But he couldn’t say that.

“It’s alright to mourn the person he was, and the memories you shared,” Kristoph advised.

Anna leaned over to rest her head on Kristoph’s shoulder. “Does it make me a horrible person to still care for him after all he’s done?” she asked to the quiet room.

Kristoph looked at her, taking in her wet cheeks and eyes. She’d already shed so many tears, and how many more were there to come, Kristoph wondered. Seeing her friend sentenced to death was something Anna would never recover from. Was the pain Kristoph inflicted on her worth her freedom?

“If that’s the case, then I’m just as horrible as you are,” Kristoph said.

Anna smiled, seemingly comforted by the sentiment. However, Kristoph knew that he was much worse than Anna could ever imagine. That day in court, Kristoph had come face to face with what lurked within him. He wasn’t sure he could live with what he found. He was forever changed.

The two lawyers settled back into their normal routine in the following weeks. Anna refused to take on any cases, and Kristoph was inclined to agree with her. So instead Anna busied herself consulting on cases for her colleagues. Occasionally a friend would ask her to do some investigative work in their place, and she and Kristoph would do field work. It was just like it had always been.

However, neither Anna nor Kristoph could shake the hole left by their two former coworkers. Sometimes Anna would forget, and she’d walk into the office expecting it to be alive and bustling with her coworkers. She was always disappointed to see the dark office, curtains drawn. For two weeks, neither went into Al’s or Scott’s former office. There was no talk of changing the plaque on the door, so they remained Turney, Free & Monie Law Offices despite having neither Free nor Monie.

As Kristoph was locking up for the night, Anna got a call on the office line. Kristoph continued drawing the curtains and switching off the lights, as this was no cause for concern. After surveying the office and ensuring that Al’s and Scott’s offices were still locked, he returned to Anna’s desk where she was pulling on her coat.

“What was that?” he asked.

Anna quickly buttoned up as she glanced at him. “I got a call from someone interested in our services,” she explained, grabbing her bag.

“A case?” Kristoph asked in mild surprise.

It had been several weeks since they’d had a case of their own. There had been an unspoken agreement between Kristoph and Anna that it was too soon to even think about entering the courtroom again.

Anna nodded, not really paying attention as Kristoph held the door for her. “He’s being held on suspicion of dealings with the mafia.”

Kristoph raised his eyebrows, following her out the door as she locked up. “Is that really someone we want to get involved with?”

Anna shrugged, turning back and swiftly leading the way down the stairs. “Probably not. But we can at least go talk to him tomorrow morning.”

Kristoph nodded, it was a solid enough plan. “Name?”

“Ford Germaine.”

Kristoph nearly tripped the rest of the way down the stairs. Anna heard him stumble and looked up at him with a glare.

“What’s wrong with you?” she asked.

Kristoph tried to say nothing, but found the words died in his throat. “Did you forget to eat, again?” Anna sighed in exasperation.

“That must be it,” Kristoph croaked.

“You’re going to run yourself into the ground,” she grumbled, walking Kristoph to the door.

Kristoph nodded, throat dry and head swimming. “If you don’t mind, I think I’ll take the morning off and come in after lunch,” he said.

Anna’s annoyance gave way to concern. “Do you need to go to the hospital?”

Kristoph shook his head. “No, no, I think I just need some rest.”

Anna nodded. “Alright. I’ll go to the detention center in the morning and fill you in,” she agreed.

With that, the two parted ways, heading to their separate cars. Kristoph sank down in his seat with a long sigh, running his hands anxiously through his hair. He couldn’t remember if Ford knew where he worked, or if this was just some bizarre coincidence. Surely it couldn’t be as simple as that? This was a clear intimidation tactic. “Defend me, or I’ll spill your secret.” Kristoph was a fool to trust someone who committed crimes for a living. Kristoph hadn’t had much of a choice, though, had he? It had been a split second decision to call in a favor, and with only a few hours, Kristoph hadn’t had a plethora of options.

Kristoph drove home and immediately pulled out his computer to research the case. There wasn’t much on the arrest. There wasn’t much interest in the case, and the police had likely just made the arrest. All Kristoph could dig up was that Germaine had been arrested on suspicion of aiding the mafia in laundering money.

Kristoph slammed his computer shut, annoyed at the lack of information. What was he supposed to do now? Germaine appeared to have hands in crime rings all over the city. He was likely looking to strike a deal, tell the police information in exchange for a lighter sentence. And Kristoph wondered how high forged evidence was on Germaine’s list of bargaining chips. Kristoph could practically see his budding law career go up in flames. If he was found out, he would be disbarred. Worse, Anna would lose the one colleague she still had left. Kristoph just hoped that if Anna’s trial was brought into question, the verdict would still hold.

The night wore on, and all Kristoph could do was sit by idly and wait for morning. He wondered what Klavier would think. It had been months since the brothers had spoken. The only assurance that Kristoph had that Klavier was still alive were the bills from Klavier’s law school. Kristoph didn’t even know if Klavier had followed his first case. He’d expected to receive some sort of congratulations from his brother, a postcard at the very least. But as the weeks wore on and none came, Kristoph had stopped waiting.

Klavier would be ashamed to find out what Kristoph had done, there was no doubt. Kristoph could practically hear Klavier in his head. You took an oath to find the truth, nicht? And you betrayed it! You lead the court astray, and for what? To wind up behind bars? You disgust me.

Klavier could never understand what it was like to be in Kristoph’s position. All Klavier had to do to win a trial was name a defendant and hope the defense attorney couldn’t work miracles. But Kristoph had. He’d made a miracle happen before the judge’s very eyes.

What will Klavier think of me, Kristoph wondered. He would think Kristoph selfish and criminal, surely. Could I get him to understand? Of all things, Kristoph wanted Klavier to know that his actions hadn’t been for his own sake. All he’d wanted was to save a friend. Surely Klavier could understand that?

Before Kristoph knew what he was doing, he’d pulled out his phone and scrolled to Klavier’s number. His thumb hovered over the button to dial as he debated with himself whether the call was worth it. The next day, Kristoph could have been in jail, on the fast track to getting his badge taken away. If that happened, this would be his last chance to talk to his brother as he always had.

Kristoph started the call, bringing the phone to his ear. Connecting across oceans always took a long time. Only a few seconds into the call, Kristoph realized it would be the middle of the night in Germany, and he ended the call with a curse. Kristoph set his phone down on the table and sighed. He did the next best thing, and opened his computer to write an email to his brother.

Dearest Klavier, he began.

If you are reading this, then I am in prison. Before you go searching for details, I ask that you listen to me first.

Kristoph wrote candidly about his crime, and his reasons for stooping to such measures. He spoke about his resentment towards the justice system that had forced his hand. He told Klavier that it wasn’t right to put Anna in prison over a death she had no part in, and wasn’t it more just to ensure that an innocent woman walked free?

He wrote until he ran out of words.

You must hate me now. You’re free to feel what you must. However, know that I only wished to protect my friend. Given the choice, I would gladly do it again.

Love,

Kristoph frowned and quickly deleted the last word.

Sincerely,

Kristoph

Kristoph scheduled the email to send at midnight the next day. If all turned out well, Kristoph would have plenty of time to stop it. Kristoph retired to bed, falling into a restless sleep. The next day, Kristoph took his time preparing. He’d taken the first half of the day off, and he spent it puttering around his apartment, picking at his breakfast and reading the morning paper. After lunch he dressed and made his way to the office, filled with dread.

He felt like there was a stone in his stomach as he walked through the door, seeing Anna sitting at her desk as normal. He half expected to turn to ash where he stood when he met her gaze. A confession was on the tip of his tongue as he shakily stepped into the office. Anna looked at him, face flat as ever.

“There you are,” she said.

Kristoph was too high strung to read anything from her voice. Instead all the alarms in his head were going off, screaming she knows, she knows!

“I had an interesting time at the detention center this morning,” she said slowly.

Kristoph swallowed, wondering what that meant. What was he going to say if Germaine had mentioned him? How could he possibly explain that away? Mentally he pleaded for her to stop being so cryptic, because Kristoph was sweating in his boots.

“Look, Anna,” he began, ready to try and make his case.

“Our client’s dead.”

Kristoph’s racing mind came to an abrupt halt. “What?” he asked.

Anna nodded, sitting back in her chair. “Apparently the mafia got to him overnight. Atroquinine poisoning,” she said nonchalantly.

Kristoph nodded, feeling cool relief spreading throughout his body. “That’s unfortunate,” he said. Mentally though he was jumping for joy.

Kristoph quickly excused himself and rushed to the bathroom, splashing cool water on his face. He eyed himself in the mirror. He’d only just arrived, and he was already a mess. His face was flushed and his hair was tangled.

“Never again,” Kristoph muttered to himself.

Next time, I’ll be more careful, he vowed. He didn’t even realized that he’d already prepared himself for a “next time.” The first thing he did upon returning to the office was to quickly delete the email he'd written the night before. The sincere and heartfelt words he'd written to Klavier vanished, and the silence between them persisted.

Chapter Text

About a week before Christmas, Kristoph walked into the office to find it empty and dark. He slowly took off his coat and paused in the doorway. Anna was always the first one in the office. She made it a point to be punctual, arriving at exactly eight each morning. This would be the first time in six years that Kristoph had arrived before Anna without notice; he figured that was cause to worry.

“Anna?” he called out into the silent office.

Thankfully he heard a muffled “In here!” from the other room.

Kristoph followed her voice with a sinking feeling in his stomach. The door to Al’s old office was cracked open. Al’s plaque still shined on the door proudly, polished as if it was still in use. Kristoph gently pushed the door open, the hinges protesting loudly from misuse. Anna was sat on the floor, surrounded by files from Al’s last cases that Kristoph and Scott had strewn about during their investigation. The office had been untouched since then, and dust covered the desk surface to show for it.

Anna was lost in thought, staring at the case files that Al had never finished and the photos removed from their frames. Kristoph didn’t have the words to express his concern. Instead he quietly closed the door behind him and sank to the floor next to his boss, just outside the ring of papers around her. His back was to Al’s old bookshelf, as he sat with crossed legs, hands on his knees as the two sat in silence.

Minutes passed, the only sound the whirr of the space heater in the corner. Kristoph had nearly lost hope that Anna would speak, ready to wait out the rest of the day in heavy silence. Then Anna opened her mouth.

“I never imagined that that Christmas would be our last,” Anna said quietly.

“We never do,” Kristoph said. He thought back to the last conversation he’d had with his brother.

Anna looked at all the papers around her sadly. “She spent so much time here. She helped so many people.”

“So have you,” Kristoph pointed out.

Anna sighed ruefully. “And look where it’s gotten me. My friends are gone and the greatest years of my life passed while I wasn’t even watching.”

Kristoph was quiet, unsure how to respond. Anna had worked tirelessly for sixteen years to build her career, and in the space of a few months it had all crumbled. Kristoph didn’t know how to show her that things could still be rebuilt.

He cleared his throat. “I would hope that not all of your friends are gone?” he said questioningly.

Anna finally looked up from the papers surrounding her and watched Kristoph. She offered him a weak smile. “Of course not,” she agreed. “You have such a long, and great career ahead of you.”

Anna glanced away from him, staring out the window at the still dark skyline. “I don’t think I can say the same of myself,” she admitted.

Kristoph remained silent, instead speaking with his eyes. He implored her to tell him what had brought this on. Anna seemed to have understood, breathing out a weary sigh.

“This job is difficult, it takes so much out of you and after all these years I wonder if it’s given me anything in return,” she admitted.

“Surely the number of people you’ve helped makes up for the burden?” Kristoph suggested.

Anna nodded. “Oh, it does, don’t doubt that. I would gladly do the past twenty years over again. But I think my time as an attorney is coming to an end.”

Kristoph was shocked at the confession. He’d known that Anna was struggling with the events of her trial, Kristoph was himself after all, but he hadn’t imagined that they would spur her into retirement. Regardless of recent events, Anna was still a great attorney. Kristoph was floored at the thought that she would give that up.  Surely there’s something I can do to change her mind?

“Anna, there are still so many things you can do!” Kristoph pleaded.

Anna smiled at him with motherly warmth. “I’ve already helped countless people, I made friends I’ll never forget, I built myself up out of practically nothing.” She gestured at the office around them. “And I taught the most passionate, intelligent, and driven protégé. What more could I possibly ask for?”

Kristoph scrambled for words, he needed her to stay; he couldn’t lose three mentors in one fell swoop. “But think of all we could do, working together.”

Anna reached out and placed a soft hand on his arm. “I want to spend time with my family. I want to get out of this job before I end up being the next corpse on the floor.” She squeezed his arm comfortingly. “I’ve done my part, it’s time for old attorneys like me to step aside for people like you. You’re going to change the courts like I never could,” Anna promised him.

Kristoph swallowed harshly. His throat was tight, and he couldn’t speak without cracking even if he wanted to.

“I would give you the office, if you’d have it,” Anna offered.

“I’d be honored,” Kristoph whispered.

At the turn of the new year, Kristoph watched with bittersweet happiness as Anna removed the old plaque from the office door. In its place, Kristoph placed a similar one, same brass color and embossed letters. However, this one was slightly different, and made Kristoph’s heart swell with pride.

Anna reached out to shake his hand. “Congratulations, Mr. Gavin, of Gavin Law Offices,” she said with a bright smile.

Kristoph shook her hand with a polite nod. “It’s been a pleasure, Mrs. Turney,” he said with all the sincerity he could spare.

Kristoph set to work making the place his own. He helped Anna move out all of her belongings, at the end he was left with her furniture and a bare floor. All the odds and ends that had made the space uniquely Anna’s were stripped away. He moved the majority of his home library onto her bookshelf, taking the opportunity to sort his collection alphabetically by author. He spent his weekends at flea markets searching for furniture to place in his office. Eventually he found a Persian rug to lay down under Anna’s desk, and he hung his degree on the wall behind him.

As his own office began to come together, Kristoph began the tedious process of cleaning out Al’s and Scott’s old offices. Scott’s parents didn’t want any of his old belongings, and Al’s sister had already been by to take what she wanted. Kristoph was tasked with cleaning out the rest. He started with Scott’s office.

Scott had always been the least sentimental of his coworkers. His office was kept fairly sparse, with little to no personal mementos. Kristoph had an easy time clearing the space, simply sweeping the papers on the desk’s surface into bins to be taken out with the trash. The only thing that gave him pause was Scott’s degree on the wall. It had been there longer than Kristoph had, a testament to the years of hard work Scott had put in to getting it. Kristoph gingerly lifted it off its peg and tucked it in the bottom drawer of his desk.

Al’s office was a different story. It was a disheveled mess from when Anna had been there. They’d never bothered cleaning the papers and photos off the floor since the office was hidden behind a closed door. Like Scott’s degree, Kristoph carefully took hers down from the wall and stowed it in a safe place. Then, Kristoph set about collecting all the photos on the floor. These were the ones that Al’s sister had deemed unimportant. They all contained Al along with her coworkers. There were only a few of them: Al and Anna just after she’d been hired, Al and her three coworkers. Kristoph took special care to preserve all of them. From there he cleaned out her desk, trashing all the cases that she’d left unfinished, practically erasing every trace of her in the office. Kristoph set her clay pots on his desk, intending to throw them out. They were empty now, but for years they had sat on her windowsill, holding flowers in bloom.

Their plaques were the last things to go. Kristoph took Scott’s down first, then moved to Al’s. He ran his fingers over the engraved letters of Al’s name. It felt like a funeral rite, pulling down the last traces of the people that had been here. The place already felt empty without them, even emptier without their presence. Kristoph sighed, and set to work unscrewing the plaque, keeping the two together as he slid them into his desk drawer, right on top of their degrees. One day he’d have to make a new plaque for the doors, when he figured out what those rooms would house. Would he hire partners like Anna had? He couldn’t imagine letting some foolish rookie invade the space that had once been his mentors’.

Kristoph took out the bins of trash, tossing them in the dumpster out back. The last thing he planned to take down were Al’s pots. But when he came back up to fetch them, his hands stopped, running a thumb over the cracks in the clay. Al’s former office was now hollow, no remnants of the woman that had once thrived there. Kristoph couldn’t change that. But maybe he could keep some of Al around in other ways.

Kristoph didn’t like to think of himself as a sentimental man. He was professional and stoic. He didn’t have time to waste on frivolities. His workspace was limited, and he used it wisely to present himself accurately to his clients. Even so, he spent a solid month waiting for the seeds he planted to sprout. And when the purple blooms of his belladonna unfurled from the soil inside Al’s pot, Kristoph couldn’t help but smile at the sight. He would never admit it out loud, but he named the flower “Alissa.”

Chapter Text

“What do you mean ‘he’s back?’” Kristoph spat into the receiver, watching the TV with narrowed eyes. “He committed suicide, you don’t just get up and walk away from that!”

He could practically hear Anna shrugging on the other end of the line. “Apparently if you’re Miles Edgeworth, you do.”

Kristoph scoffed, watching as the news reported on the return of the prosecutor from overseas, and his rematch against Phoenix Wright. A trial in which he finally triumphed over Phoenix Wright in the rookie’s first defeat. Kristoph scowled, wondering what the prosecutor had been doing all this time that allowed him to pull off such a feat.

“That’s exactly what I needed. Just fantastic,” Kristoph snapped.

He could hear Anna struggling to contain her laughter. “I suppose I’m glad I got out when I did.”

Kristoph’s mouth formed a thin line in displeasure. “And you left me to fend for myself against Edgeworth,” he grumbled. “And Miss von Karma.”

Anna couldn’t help herself anymore, letting out a small chuckle. “You certainly have your work cut out for you,” she agreed.

“I’m glad this is so amusing for you,” Kristoph said drily.

“You’ll be fine Gavin,” Anna insisted. “Besides, Edgeworth went back to Europe. So really you only have to worry about von Karma,” she pointed out.

“Very comforting indeed, considering she whips the defense.”

“It’ll build character,” Anna teased.

Kristoph sighed. “Were trials this dangerous in your day?”

Anna hummed in thought on the other end of the line for a moment. “Well the elder von Karma was known for tasing the defense.”

“I suppose the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree?” Kristoph posed.

“That it doesn’t,” Anna laughed. “Now, I think you’ll have some clients coming in soon. Make me proud.”

Kristoph rolled his eyes. “Yes, mother dearest.”

That earned a heartfelt belly laugh from his mentor. “Oh please, I already have two teenagers, I don’t need to adopt an adult man.”

Kristoph flicked the TV off, sitting back in his chair. “I’m afraid it seems you already have.”

“Alright, then son,” she said jokingly. “Have a good day at work.”

Kristoph nodded. “And you enjoy your family.”

“Goodbye, Gavin. I’ll see you soon.”

“Good day, Anna,” he wished before hanging up the phone.

It was only a few minutes later that someone entered his office, peeking around the door tentatively. Kristoph perked up, setting aside his case files as he surveyed the person standing in his office. It was a young woman in her late teens, dressed in a sweater that swamped her tiny figure.

“Hello, what can I help you with?” Kristoph asked with practiced professionalism.

The young woman stepped further into his office, sneakers padding on the hardwood floor. “I need an attorney for my sister. A Mrs. Turney recommended you?” she said nervously.

Of course. Kristoph smiled. “Yes, I know Anna. Tell me about your sister.” He motioned for her to sit in the chair across from his desk.

And so Kristoph began to make a name for himself as a defense attorney. His first win granted him enough of a reputation with the judge and at the Prosecutor’s Office to hold some legal power in court. During his second case, he found it easier to cross-examine the witness, being given more leeway in pressing their testimony. During that, and future trials, his word had meaning when he asked for more investigative time. Eventually he was even given enough power to call his own witnesses.

He became addicted to that feeling of power he felt in court. It was a feeling he couldn’t replicate anywhere else. After his disastrous first trial, and Anna stepping out of her role as his mentor, it began to feel like the courtroom was the only place he had any power at all. But for the time being, he was content to rely on his own skills in the courtroom. After getting his foot in the door, none of his trials were as difficult as his first. He prided himself on being able to get all of his clients declared innocent. While he hadn’t ended Edgeworth’s or von Karma’s winning streak, he began to garner a good reputation.

Even so, he kept the names of forgers that Germaine had passed onto him, and he took note of any he found on his investigations.

In early April, Kristoph was in the courthouse was after a well-fought trial. He’d proven his client innocent once again, and he stood in the defendant lobby, basking in the praise and admiration that came from such a feat. Kristoph was becoming a thorn in the sides of everyone at the Prosecutor’s Office, and he was enjoying the recognition. He’d even heard gossip spreading about his trials, stories of how Kristoph Gavin stood calmly at the bench, never once breaking a sweat as he proved his client’s innocence.

Kristoph was pleased with his budding reputation, it was only fitting, after all. As he stood in the lobby, receiving well-wishes and congratulations from his clients an colleagues, he spotted a familiar face winding through the crowd.

“Excuse me, I must be off,” Kristoph said, bidding his client goodbye.

His eyes followed the familiar blue suit all the way to the doors of the courthouse. Kristoph followed at a brisk walk, pushing the doors open and seeing the man in question already halfway down the steps.

“Wright,” he called, hastening to catch up.

Hearing his name, Phoenix Wright turned around, eyes widen in surprise at seeing the other man approach. “Ah, Kristoph,” he greeted.

Kristoph stopped once he was at Phoenix’s side. “I see you sat in on another one of my trials,” Kristoph noted. Phoenix rubbed the back of his neck, sheepish at being caught. “I’ll have to return the favor sometime.”

“Well, I’ve been hearing about you. I thought maybe I could learn a few things,” he admitted.

Kristoph’s eyebrows raised in mild surprise. “Learn from me? I’m flattered,” he said. After all, Phoenix Wright was practically a legend, and had been at this far longer than Kristoph.

Phoenix laughed good-naturedly. “Please, I’m still just a rookie myself. I’ve only been at this a year and a half,” he pointed out bashfully.

Kristoph smirked. “And yet look at all you’ve done in that time. People aren’t wrong to be impressed.”

Phoenix just laughed awkwardly at the compliment. “Well, your defense is unlike any I’ve seen before,” Phoenix said, returning the compliment. “You’re so collected. It really unnerved the prosecutor when none of his scare tactics worked.”

Kristoph smiled genuinely. “Thank you.” Then he remembered what he’d followed Phoenix to say. “Speaking of prosecutors, I heard about the Engarde trial. My condolences.”

Phoenix gave him a look of confusion. “Um, none necessary.”

Kristoph furrowed his brow, now equally as confused. “I don’t understand. They declared your client guilty,” he said, as if the problem was obvious.

Phoenix’s confusion seemed to subside, replaced by a stiffness in his shoulders at the mention of the trial. “Because he wasguilty.”

“I see,” Kristoph conceded, even though he was still confused as to why Phoenix would be pleased with that outcome. “I assumed. Edgeworth has a reputation.”

Phoenix cut him off before he could continue. “Edgeworth had nothing to do with the verdict,” Phoenix said sharply. “He helped make sure the right person went away for the crime.”

This conversation just got more and more bizarre. Kristoph stared at Phoenix in confusion, trying to put together what Phoenix was telling him. This was the revered Phoenix Wright, one of the best defense attorneys in the field. The very same person that had destroyed Edgeworth’s perfect record, and here he was defending him after his own record was ruined?

“I’m afraid I don’t understand,” Kristoph admitted.

“Edgeworth is a friend,” Phoenix insisted, as if that was any sort of explanation.

Kristoph looked at the other man with a mixture of confusion and suspicion. It sounded absurd that Phoenix Wright of all people would consider Edgeworth a friend. After all, they were bitter rivals, were they not? Their positions in the courtroom would dictate as much. How could two people representing two opposing sides consider each other friends?

“A... friend?” Kristoph said slowly. “But he’s a prosecutor.”

Phoenix snorted at Kristoph’s statement. “That doesn’t make him a bad person.”

Kristoph thought of Klavier. “No, but this is Miles Edgeworth,” he said, as if that was an explanation within itself.

Phoenix just looked at Kristoph with equal parts amusement and sadness. “He’s changed.”

Kristoph grimaced. “I was co-counsel during one of his trials, he would’ve had to have change a lot,” he spat.

“He has,” Phoenix insisted, though his expression cleared slightly at Kristoph’s admission. “If you’ll buy me lunch I’ll tell you all about it,” he offered.

Kristoph raised an eyebrow, smirking amusedly. “I would be a fool to turn down lunch with the famed Phoenix Wright.”

Phoenix winced slightly. “Good, try not to use the f-word, though. Brings back painful memories.” Phoenix made a motion similar to that of a whip cracking.

Nearly an hour later over a couple of burgers (though Kristoph had barely touched his, instead passing it over to Wright), Kristoph still felt confused.

“If Edgeworth feels so guilty about his past, why doesn’t he become a defense attorney? There must be a vast majority of cases where the defense isn’t nearly as competent where he convicts the wrong person, regardless of intentions,” Kristoph insisted, brow furrowed.

Phoenix shrugged. “That’s not for me to decide. Besides, the world needs prosecutors. Wouldn’t it be better to have one like him who’s at least interested in catching the right guy?” Phoenix asked.

Kristoph sat back, still frowning. “I suppose.” He still had his qualms about Edgeworth. After all, one year of “death” couldn’t possibly wipe a slate clean of that much blood.

“My little brother has a horrible crush on Edgeworth,” Kristoph admitted.

The statement nearly caused Phoenix to choke on his burger. After a violent coughing fit, Kristoph took pity on the poor man, passing him a napkin and a glass of water.

“Attractive,” Kristoph deadpanned.

Phoenix just stared at him, looking as if he was about to cry with laughter. “I’m sorry, what?”

“You heard me.” Kristoph smiled. “He watched all of your trials together. He even watched the DL-6 case live.”

Phoenix flushed in embarrassment. “Your brother must be fun at parties.”

“He wants to be a rockstar.”

Phoenix just blinked, utterly lost in confusion. Kristoph laughed, glad to have returned the favor. He decided to throw the poor man a lifeline.

“He should graduate as a prosecutor in May. He wants to have a band on the side,” Kristoph explained.

“Can you do that?” he asked.

Kristoph just shrugged in response. “I suppose we’ll find out, won’t we?”

As Kristoph said, Klavier graduated law school that May. Kristoph stayed up, email opened up on his computer as he wondered what to write, if he even should write anything. It had been nearly a year since the last time the two had spoken. Kristoph didn’t know what the protocol was on sending a congratulatory postcard to your estranged brother. He eventually closed the email without writing anything. However, over the weekend he left Skype open on his computer, in case Klavier decided to call. However, nothing came through.

Out of curiosity, Kristoph googled “Klavier Gavin.” To his surprise, he found that Klavier was scheduled to tour Europe over the next few months with his band Das Gawinner. He even had accounts on Twitter and Instagram dedicated solely to the bands exploits. Kristoph spent a good few hours scrolling through. He saw his brother surrounded by people he didn’t know, posting about causes Kristoph didn’t know he cared about. Apparently Klavier was incredibly passionate about bees?

On his personal account, Klavier tweeted at over a million people about his hair that morning, or his love life. Kristoph noted that his brother was always very cryptic about the gender of the object of his affections. Kristoph felt a painful twisting in his gut at the thought that a million strangers had known more about his little brother’s life than he had. But Kristoph didn’t know where to start to fix it, he didn’t know if it was even possible. The best he could do was make a dummy account on Twitter and follow him. And then he was just one in a sea of millions.

Just as he was about to close out, a new tweet appeared on his feed.

“finished law school!!! the bar can wait, rn its time to rock Achtung Baby!!! #DasGawinner #prosecutor4life”

Kristoph frowned. He didn’t understand how his little brother could put off his law career for something as silly as music. This was the same young boy that had once pleaded with him to go to Themis years in advance, all in the name of truth and justice. He saw none of that same passion in this rockstar persona. All he saw was a flashy, haughty boy posing for the camera.

Kristoph closed his computer with a disgusted grunt. And this was the prosecution prodigy he’d heard so much about. He truly feared for the future of law. To Klavier, the whole world was just a flashy show meant for him to dazzle the audience. He had no patience for the intricacies of the courtroom. After all, Klavier’s “passion” for law wasn’t really his, was it? It had been Kristoph’s, something that his little brother usurped from him.

Klavier was just another prosecutor, like all the rest. Like his idol, Edgeworth. And with defense attorneys like Wright go so far as to defend Edgeworth, Kristoph felt as if he were the last line of defense. The only one who could see the inevitable conclusion that the legal profession was rocketing towards.

Kristoph pulled out his notes, the ones he kept away from prying eyes. He flipped to the list of names he’d gotten from an old friend, circling the first one on the list. He wondered what the prosecution would do if given a taste of their own medicine?

Chapter Text

Kristoph heard excited whispering from the other side of the lobby. He’d just finished a perfect trial, something that was becoming the norm for him. He’d even earned the title of “The Coolest Defense in the West” from a police officer in a cowboy hat. The name had stuck, and well into his second year of practice, Kristoph was well-established and well-respected.

Kristoph followed the sound of the whispering, trying to find out where it’d come from. He didn’t have to wonder for long, as soon a young woman in a kimono bounced to a stop in front of him.

“Mr. Gavin! What a surprise to find you here!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands together.

Kristoph furrowed his brow. Did he know this girl from somewhere? “Not that much of a surprise, I do work here,” he pointed out.

The girl gained a thoughtful look on her face. “That’s right, you did just pass the bar, didn’t you?” she mused.

Kristoph was about to brush her off and end the strange conversation, when Phoenix broke through the crowd and hissed at the girl. “Maya! I told you, this isn’t the same guy,” he said, shooting Kristoph an embarrassed glance.

Kristoph was surprised to see Phoenix again. It had been nearly a year since their last “meeting.” After that they had lapsed into a passing acquaintanceship. They nodded at each other when they passed in the courthouse, wished each other well before trials if they happened to be passing by. That was the extent of their interaction. Even though it might not have been much, it was comforting to Kristoph to know that he had a “friend” in the field, if he ever needed it. He hadn’t expected them to see each other again like this.

Kristoph took a second look at the girl in front of him, giving her more attention now that he knew she was affiliated with Wright. She looked incredibly out of place in the courthouse. Wright certainly kept strange company.

“A friend of yours?” Kristoph asked.

“She’s my assistant,” the other attorney explained, earning a cross look from the girl, Maya, Kristoph assumed.

“Nick! We’re practically partners!” she insisted.

Kristoph watched as the two began bickering. They lapsed into their familiar roles, Maya playing Devil’s Advocate to Phoenix’s exasperated everyman. From the way the two teased each other good naturedly, Kristoph could tell they were longtime friends. Kristoph let them squabble before clearing his throat.

“It’s nice to meet you, Maya,” he said offering his hand politely.

Maya took it, practically melting as she touched him. That was… unexpected to say the least. Kristoph wasn’t used to getting that response from women. He turned to Phoenix for help.

“Maya, this is my colleague, Kristoph,” Phoenix introduced.

Maya regained her senses, eyes widening in shock. “Not Klavier?” she asked.

Kristoph felt like he’d been punched in the gut. He ducked his head, fiddling with his glasses in an attempt to hide his displeased expression. That was certainly a first. Phoenix continued explaining, oblivious to Kristoph’s discomfort.

“Sorry about her, she confused you with some rockstar,” he explained.

“It’s alright,” Kristoph lied. “Klavier would be my younger brother.”

At that statement Maya regained the star struck look in her eyes. “Nick, you didn’t tell me you were friends with a celebrity!” she whined.

Phoenix just eyed Kristoph with mild surprise. “I didn’t know,” he murmured, however it was lost on Maya.

Kristoph tried to fake a modest smile, still irked at the mention of his brother. “I’m hardly a celebrity,” he insisted.

“Celebrity, celebrity’s brother, same difference!” Maya said dismissively. She clapped her hands together again. “We all just have to go out for burgers! Nick’s paying.”

Phoenix looked at her with dismay. “I don’t remember agreeing to that,” he said dejectedly.

Kristoph just eyed the pair, perplexed at the strange dynamic, and he allowed himself to be roped into another lunch with Phoenix Wright. He supposed it was only fair that Phoenix now buy him food after their last talk. Even when Kristoph was sitting across from the two of them, with a burger in front of him once again, he was confused as to how he’d ended up there. Phoenix’s assistant had led him along in a way that hardly gave him a chance to say no.

“Sorry, Maya’s been obsessed with Klavier Gavin ever since we saw him at Gatewater Land,” Phoenix explained.

This earned a rough elbow from the tiny girl sitting next to him. From the way Phoenix doubled over, Kristoph made a mental note not to get on Maya’s bad side. Or her good side, apparently.

“I am not obsessed!” she insisted through a mouthful of food.

Kristoph glanced around, hoping they weren’t attracting attention. It was a brightly colored, family place, and as such it was loud and there were many people exhibiting Maya’s terrible table manners. Kristoph was slightly horrified.

“I wasn’t aware that my brother had been at Gatewater Land,” Kristoph said pensively.

“Yeah, it was the start of their American tour! They played 13 Years Hard Time for Love. My favorite was My Boyfriend is the Prosecution’s Witness,” Maya enthused.

Kristoph raised his eyebrows. “My Boyfriend is…” he trailed off, glancing sidelong at Wright. “Well, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised given his taste in idols.”

Phoenix nearly choked on his burger once again. “You’re going to kill me,” Phoenix groaned once he’d recovered. “Edgeworth thought I was making it up.”

Kristoph sighed. “Unfortunately, I assure you there’s no joke. And I have the Skype records to prove it.”

Maya looked between the two of them, confused. “Am I missing something?”

Kristoph turned to her. “My brother had quite a significant infatuation with Phoenix’s friend Miles Edgeworth, it was bordering on obsession really,” Kristoph explained.

Maya cocked her head before the lightbulb went off. “Oh, you mean he had a crush?” Kristoph nodded. “But Edgeworth is Nick’s boyfriend!” she exclaimed.

Once again Phoenix nearly choked to death. Kristoph watched in sympathy as the poor man hacked a few years of his life away. “I assure you, my brother is much too young to ever try to steal him away from you.”

Phoenix let out another long groan. “I’ve died and gone to hell,” he moaned.

Maya had a look of deep concentration on her face again. “But how is it that your brother is German and you’re not?”

“Ich spreche Deutsch,” Kristoph replied. “I’m just not as flamboyant as my brother.”

Maya turned to glare at Phoenix. “You never told me your friends were so cool!”

Apparently Kristoph had become friends with Phoenix without either of them knowing.

“What’s it like to be brothers with a rock god?” Maya asked dreamily.

Kristoph frowned. “You should ask him what it’s like to be brothers with ‘The Coolest Defense in the West,’” Kristoph countered.

Maya laughed in response. “You look so much like him! I can’t believe you’re not twins.”

Kristoph paused at that comment. It wasn’t something people had said about him and Klavier growing up. Their age difference likely played a role. For the first time it occurred to Kristoph that at seventeen, their age gap was less prominent.

“We get it from our mother,” Kristoph said with a wry smile.

Later that night, Kristoph found himself searching for information on his brother’s most recent concert. He couldn’t believe that his brother had been in town and hadn’t said anything. Not that Kristoph had any desire to go to one of his brother’s ridiculous concerts, but wasn’t it common courtesy to at least offer?

Kristoph found a video interview from a local news station. The reporter was backstage with Klavier just before the show. When Kristoph pressed play, he could hear the excited cheers of the audience in the background. The video started off with the attractive reporter turned toward the camera.

“I’m backstage with Klavier Gavin lead singer of ‘The Gavinners’ at Gatewater Land, right before the first show on their American tour,” she said, speaking loudly into her microphone to be heard over the clamoring crowd.

“Actually our name is,” Klavier began.

He was cut off by the reporter. “How does it feel to have your first American concert?” she asked, holding the mic out to him.

“It’s exciting, ja? I spent four years here in high school and I forgot how lovely it is,” Klavier said with a dazzling, lopsided smile.

Kristoph rolled his eyes. All he remember from Klavier’s days in Los Angeles were constant complaints about the weather, and the smog, and “mein Gott, why is it so dry?” His brother was just as fake as any other rockstar in front of his audience.

“But you’ve spent the last three years in Germany, correct?”

“Ja, I graduated law school last May, and then after our first tour wrapped up, I took the bar in February. Now we’re putting in one last hurra before we go to work,” Klavier explained.

“You claim that all of your members have ties to the legal world?”

Klavier nodded. “Ja, I’m a prosecutor, we have a detective, a defense attorney, a judge, and a forensic analyst,” he explained.

“What made all of you decide to get together and sing about law?”

Klavier shrugged. “We were kids who wanted to make music. What better to sing about then that you love, ja?”

“Speaking of which, your hit single My Boyfriend is the Prosecution’s Witness stirred up a lot of controversy, mainly because you, a man, are singing it. Is that significant?”

Klavier pushed his dark shades down his nose to look at the reporter with hooded eyes. “Why, are you interested, Fraulein?” he flirted, winking.

Kristoph could practically see the woman’s legs turn to jelly. At that moment Klavier turned away to yell at someone off camera, before turning back.

“It appears my fans await,” he said turning to go.

“One last question!” the reporter insisted, causing Klavier to stop. “Are there any last words you’d like to say to anyone listening?”

Klavier stopped for a moment, biting his lower lip in a sign Kristoph knew to mean he was deep in thought. After a few moments of thinking, precious time when you had thousands waiting for you, Klavier turned to look directly into the camera, pushing his shades up.

“If you’re watching, I’d like to thank mein Bruder,” he said, voice sounding vulnerable for the first time throughout the whole interview. “He’s supported me through everything, and he helped me through law school. He even bought me my first guitar. Without him there’s no way I’d be here now. If you’re watching, bro, this first one goes out to you!”

Klavier lapsed back into rockstar mode, blowing a kiss at the camera. The reporter was genuinely touched by Klavier’s speech. “That was very sweet. Good luck out there!”

Klavier waved as he turned his back. “Achtung baby!” he yelled as he strode out onstage under heavy floodlights.

Kristoph closed the video, getting up and pacing around the room. He didn’t understand what Klavier was playing at. They hadn’t talked in years, and yet thanked him for all he’d done? Did he somehow know Kristoph was keeping an eye on him? Was he just putting on airs for the camera, playing the lovable younger brother?

Kristoph couldn’t understand it. Klavier stood on a stage with the world at his feet, something that had practically been handed to him. And then there was Kristoph, clawing his way up from the bottom, fighting just to keep his head above water. Klavier’s very existence was a constant reminder of everything Kristoph had failed to become. Klavier soaked up the fame and love he’d been born into like it was his God given right. He’d never known the loss or helplessness that Kristoph had. The moment Klavier had been born, all of Kristoph’s dreams went up in smoke. Everything Kristoph might have been.

Klavier took everything Kristoph deserved and then had the nerve to thank him for it? To thank him for trampling all over everything Kristoph fought for? Klavier needed to understand that anger, that despair. Kristoph deserved to be the one to make him feel it, after seventeen years of living in a child’s shadow.

So Kristoph watched, and he waited.

When he heard of the murder of Magnifi Gramarye, (and who would have thought he’d hear that name again?) Kristoph knew the allure of fame would be too much for his younger brother to resist. And oh, how he was right, just like he knew he would be. As soon as an arrest was made, Kristoph called the detention center.

Fame, money, and recognition were riding on this case. Enough to make or break a budding law career. To the victor would go the spoils, and Kristoph would ensure that he was victorious.

Chapter Text

Over the past year, Kristoph had gone through a fair number of the names in his “black book,” even having collected a few of his own through the grapevine. He would cross names out after he was through with them, moving onto the next when he needed their services again. Today, he was skipping to the bottom. This was an important case, and as such, would require an expert. He had heard great things about this person’s work, and he was going to spare no expense for this case.

As was common for those dabbling in less than legal arts, Kristoph had been given very specific instructions for contacting this person. He’d been given an address to a ramshackle apartment building. Kristoph approached, knocking twice, then once, then four times, as instructed. He could hear shuffling from inside, before the door creaked open.

Kristoph had expected to see a middle-aged man. Instead, there was a young girl in front of him, staring up at him with a blank expression. She was silent, standing no higher than Kristoph’s waist. Neither said anything for a long moment, simply staring at each other.

Eventually Kristoph cleared his throat. “Is your father here?” he asked.

The girl shook her head, before moving to shut the door in his face. Kristoph slid his foot into the crack, effectively keeping the door from closing. The girl’s eyes widened in shock, but she stayed silent.

“When will he be back?” Kristoph asked.

The girl shook her head, signaling that she didn’t know. “Would it be alright if I came in and waited?” Kristoph asked gently.

The girl shook her head vehemently, pointing outside, indicating that she wanted him to wait out there. Kristoph frowned. Obviously the girl wasn’t used to talking to strangers. He supposed that was a good habit for a young girl, yet he wondered what she was doing here of all places.

“That’s a very lovely dress,” Kristoph complimented, changing the subject in the hopes that it would yield better results.

The girl looked down at her pink striped dress, her face flushing a warm peach color. The girl sheepishly hid herself behind the door, obviously unsure of how to take the compliment. She nervously bit at one of her nails. Kristoph was relieved to at least get some sort of reaction out of her.

“And your nails are very well done. Did you do them yourself?” he asked.

The girl looked at her nails, painted alternating shades of pink to match her dress. After a moment she nodded, still looking very shy. But at least he had made progress. He’d dealt with witnesses that didn’t want to talk before, after all.

Kristoph made a show of looking at his own nails and sighing. “I’m afraid it’s been a long time since I’ve had a chance. My nails are horrendous,” he sighed.

The girl continued to stare up at him, lost in thought. A long silence passed before the girl stepped back from the door, allowing it to swing open as Kristoph entered. Inside was a cluttered art studio. In middle of the room were two large easels, one with a finished piece and the other with an unfinished one eerily similar to its neighbor. Kristoph stopped to admire the work. The person who referred him certainly hadn’t been lying.

The girl pulled out a chair at the small table at the back of the room, motioning for Kristoph to sit. He did as instructed as the girl disappeared. When she came back, she had a small box in her hands, opening it to reveal a large collection of colored nail polish. She set the box on the table, rummaging through the box before pulling out a light blue (which Kristoph noted matched his suit), a peach toned, and a pink color that matched Vera’s own nails.

She held them up for Kristoph, and Kristoph was beginning to see where this was going. He pointed at the blue shade, and Vera nodded, pleased with his choice before setting to work. Kristoph placed his left hand flat on the table, watching her with mild amusement. Children were strange. He normally wouldn’t let one paint his nails, but he supposed he could make an exception. She worked with careful precision, starting with his thumb.

After a minute of silence, Kristoph decided to try pressing the girl again. “What’s your name?” he asked.

The girl stopped what she was doing, setting down the nail polish and tentatively grabbing a sketchpad laid off to the side. Kristoph watched in confusion as she scribbled on it, before turning it around for him to see.

“Vera?” he asked, earning a nod from the girl as she returned to his nails. “That’s a lovely name.”

Vera blushed again, however she didn’t falter, her hands completely steady as she painted Kristoph’s nails. “Do you not like to talk?” he asked.

Vera nodded. “I suppose I can understand that,” Kristoph murmured. “Talking is bothersome.”

Kristoph looked around the studio again, eyeing the duplicate paintings once again. “Is that your father’s work?” he asked.

The girl remained stone-faced, neither shaking nor nodding her head. “It’s very good.”

They lapsed back into silence again. Once the first coat on his left hand was done, Vera motioned for Kristoph to put his right hand on the table. He did as requested, and Vera set to work once more. After a few moments, she stopped, looking at his hand with interest. Kristoph had continued to survey the rest of the studio.

“What happened to your hand?” asked a very small voice.

Kristoph quickly turned back to the girl, suddenly shocked at the sound of her voice. He followed her gaze down to the old scar on his hand, something that was normally too faint to notice. No one had commented on it in years, and Klavier was the only one who knew of it. However, Vera’s intense focus and the bright lights of the studio allowed it to be much more visible than normal.

Kristoph eyed the scar for the first time in a long time. “When I was younger I saved my brother when our house burned down,” he explained.

He remembered punching out the upstairs window, glass cutting deep into his hand. He’d done that to save Klavier. Eight years had passed since that night; time and distance had muddled Kristoph’s memory to the point that he couldn’t remember what he’d been feeling that made him punch out a window. It must have been strong. Had Kristoph loved Klavier that much?

Vera watched him, face still neutral, but somehow less closed off. “That was brave.”

“I suppose so,” Kristoph murmured, watching the girl’s careful work. “You’re very good with your hands,” he noted.

“I like art,” Vera said simply.

“You like watching your father paint then?” Kristoph asked.

Vera stopped, shaking her head. “I paint.” She pointed to the unfinished painting at the center of the room.

Kristoph stared at the girl, then at his newly painted nails. “Those are yours?” he asked. It was unbelievable to think such a small girl could copy paintings so… perfect.

The girl nodded. “It’s very good,” Kristoph said, as the girl bent over his hand again.

The gears in Kristoph’s head began turning. If this girl was the one responsible for that painting, then did that mean she was responsible for other forgeries?

“Do you know how to make things besides paintings?” Kristoph asked.

Vera sat back, instinctively moving to bite her nails. “You can trust me,” Kristoph insisted with a smile.

“I’m not supposed to talk about it.”

“Then I won’t ask you to. However, I do have a favor to ask of you in return.” Unable to use his hands, Kristoph nodded towards his bag. “Can you reach in and pull out the file inside?” he asked.

Vera did as asked, placing the folder between them. Kristoph opened it, careful not to chip his nails before turning to where the evidence was filed. He showed her two pieces of paper.

“I need you to make a page that looks like this.” He tapped the copy of the diary page in his file. “But it needs to say this.” This time he tapped the page filled with printed words. “Do you think you can do that for me?”

Vera looked between the two sheets Kristoph had handed her before nodding. “Thank you, Vera.”

When Kristoph contacted the defendant offering his services, he received a summons to the man’s holding cell. Kristoph arrived with his evidence file, prepared to go over the details of the case with his client, with a list of prepared questions. Kristoph arrived to find his client sitting back in his chair, looking much too calm for someone about to be put on trial for murder.

“Kristoph Gavin,” he said, offering the other man his hand.

The other man took it, giving him a firm shake with one gloved hand. “And of course you already know who I am,” he said in a deep, booming voice.

Kristoph took the seat across from him, setting his briefcase on the table. “You’re Zak Gramarye. Even if I wasn’t your attorney, I could guess at much from your clothes.”

Zak still wore his magician’s garb, complete with a red cape and top hat. Zak laughed at Kristoph’s comment, his laughter just as deep as his voice.

“The crowd expects to see a magician! I will not disappoint,” he insisted.

“Of course not,” Kristoph said. “Now, I’d like to ask about the events leading up to Magnifi’s death.”

Zak put up a hand to stop Kristoph. “If I told you that now it would just ruin the mystery, wouldn’t it?” he stated with and unnerving sparkle in his eye.

Kristoph stared at him, speechless. “Sir, with all due respect, you’re on trial for murder and if I don’t know your version of the events…”

Zak simply laughed. “A magician never reveals his secrets!”

Kristoph continued to stare at the other man, waiting for him to laugh and tell him this was a ridiculous joke. He expected a policeman to walk in any minute with his real client because surely no one who was actually being accused of murder would do… whatever this was. Instead of revealing his elaborate trick, the man pulled a deck of cards out of nowhere.

“Have you ever played poker?” he asked, taking off his gloves to begin shuffling.

Kristoph watched the dexterous movement of his fingers, well-trained like a musician’s. “Poker.” Kristoph expected to wake up from his nightmare any moment now.

“Fabulous game. You’ve never truly known someone until you’ve played poker with them,” Zak insisted, beginning to deal the cards.

Kristoph was certain this couldn’t get any more horrifying when Zak pulled out a collection of poker chips. “You keep poker chips on you.”

“Of course! You don’t?” Zak replied. Kristoph couldn’t tell if he was being serious.

Kristoph took his five cards and the selection of chips Zak passed to him. “You’ll start with 2500, and we’ll go 4 rounds of betting, aces high, ante is one hundred.”

“Sure,” Kristoph sighed, somehow feeling outmatched by his own client. He was very grateful that he’d already commissioned Vera’s services. He pushed a one hundred chip into the middle along with Zak’s.

Kristoph’s starting hand was decent enough with a two pair. Kristoph was not the most skilled poker player, but hopefully he knew enough to get by. “I will open with three hundred,” Kristoph said.

“Raise, five hundred,” Zak said almost immediately after Kristoph finished his sentence. He easily slid his chips to the center.

Kristoph eyed him with irritation. “Call.” He pushed his chips into the pot.

Zak tossed out three of his cards, Kristoph tossing out two. “What interests you about my case?” Zak asked.

Kristoph was caught off guard by the question. He hadn’t expected his client to be the one interviewing him.

“You’re Zak Gramarye,” Kristoph said simply, even though it was a lie.

“Yes I am,” Zak agreed, chest puffing out with pride. Kristoph resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

“My mother took me to one of your shows when I was younger,” Kristoph said as the two continued their game. “In Germany.”

“You’re German, then?” Zak asked.

“It’s complicated. I was born in England, but raised in Germany,” Kristoph explained, eyeing his new cards. Now he had two pairs. “My brother is much more German than I am.”

Kristoph sat back, taking in Zak Gramarye’s appearance again, the extravagant cape and hat in a flashy red. It was all for show, wasn't it? To give the audience what they expected to see. He covered whoever Zak Gramarye really was under the guise of a magician. He filled the room, with his voice and his presence, commanding attention like a spotlight. Even now, Zak was using his craft to misdirect Kristoph from the case at hand. But in reality, Zak Gramarye was someone with deft, calloused hands that played poker.

“You remind me of him. My brother,” Kristoph said, calling Zak’s bet. “He’s the prosecutor for your case, Klavier Gavin.”

Zak looked at him with a peculiar interest. “Klavier? That’s German for piano, isn’t it?” he asked, tossing out two more cards.

“You speak German?” Kristoph asked.

Zak laughed. “You should know Troupe Gramarye has toured all over the globe. Sometimes it’s useful to know the language.”

Kristoph nodded, tossing a card of his own. “Playing piano is how I got my start, you know,” Zak said.

Kristoph raised an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t have thought piano playing was a gateway for magic.”

Zak laughed, his booming stage voice giving way into something more personable. “You’d be surprised.” He gained a far off look in his eye, continuing to play even as he was consumed by memories. “When I was a kid my first job was playing piano at a dive bar,” he explained. “But where I made my real money was pickpocketing.”

Kristoph glanced at the policeman standing watch near the cell door. “I don’t know if you should say that in prison.”

Zak continued undeterred. “One day I took this old codger’s wallet, just like any other day. An hour later he came back and told me ‘your sleight of hand needs work.’”

From the look on Zak’s face, Kristoph could tell he was reliving the moment, hearing the voice in his head.

“That was how I met Magnifi.” He snapped out of his daydream, turning his gaze to Kristoph with a scrutinizing look.

“A wonderful first impression,” Kristoph said drily.

Zak laughed heartily, slipping back into his stage voice. “He was impressed that I’d gotten his wallet at all!”

One more round of betting passed. “Now it appears our game has come to an end,” Zak said dramatically.

“So it has,” Kristoph agreed.

“Would you like to do the honors?” Zak asked.

Kristoph laid his hand down, showing three jacks and two fours. “Full House,” he said with a pleased smirk.

Zak nodded, impressed with the hand Kristoph had dealt. “Not bad.” He laid down his own cards. “But four aces trumps.”

Kristoph simply shrugged. “I was never much of a poker player. Now, if we could talk about your case,” he began before he was once again cut off by Zak.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Gavin, but I’ve decided not to use your services,” he said simply.

Kristoph’s voice shut off, his eyes zeroing in on the man in front of him. He could feel his blood freezing as he stared daggers into the other man’s cheek. He spent countless hours hunched over this man’s case file, reading over all the intricacies of the case, pulled strings and called in favors in order to get a minute with the man in front of him. There was no one in the world that could possibly be as prepared for this case as he was. And Zak was… turning him down?

“You’re turning me away because I lost a poker game?” Kristoph asked flatly, jaw flexing as he fought the churning feeling in his chest.

Zak just watched him, much too calm and nonchalant. “I have simply decided that I will find legal representation elsewhere.” He motioned for the policeman at the cell door to escort Kristoph out.

“Why would you make such a foolish decision?” Kristoph spat.

Zak simply tipped his hat. “A magician never reveals his secrets,” he said, practically taunting Kristoph.

The policeman grabbed Kristoph’s arm, only to be shaken off with force. “I see,” Kristoph said coldly, standing up. “Enjoy prison, Mr. Gramarye.”

With those words he stormed past the police officer, swiftly leaving the detention center as his face flushed. That was humiliating, to be shown up by his own client. As soon as he exited the building, he stopped.

He had spent years in Klavier’s shadow, his entire existence was just an accessory to Klavier’s greatness. This was his greatest chance to show Klavier that he was more than that, more than Klavier Gavin’s big brother. He was a person, an attorney, in his own right. Ever since he heard of Klavier taking this trial, he dreamed of getting that innocent verdict and seeing Klavier’s realization that his precious music and badge were nothing without a person of substance behind them. It was Kristoph’s chance to finally claim the glory that Klavier experience every waking day.

Kristoph let out a feral growl, slamming his fist into the brick wall of the detention center. His hand stung, newly scraped and fresh blood beading on his knuckles. “I was so close!” he spat.

Without Kristoph on the stand, Klavier was going to have an easy win. Kristoph was the only one that had any hope of beating him, because he was the only one willing to trick the system. Kristoph was the only one that deserved to beat him, because his entire life had been leading up to this. Everything had been a preamble to when Kristoph finally took control of his life from where Klavier had taken it.

But at the last moment it had been ripped away.

“All because of that man’s fucking arrogance,” Kristoph spat. “Who else could possibly represent him better than me? I’m the prosecution’s brother!”

If Zak Gramarye thought he was better off without Kristoph, then Kristoph was honor bound to show him how wrong he was. It wouldn’t be quite as good as defeating Klavier. But Kristoph could gain some satisfaction from watching his brother send an innocent man to prison in the name of justice.

Chapter Text

They day before the Gramarye trial, Kristoph found himself at the Prosecutor’s Office. He’d followed the directions the receptionist gave him. However once he’d reached the floor, it had been unnecessary, as loud rock music clearly marked which office belonged to Klavier Gavin. Kristoph knocked on the door, the wood shaking from the blaring music inside. He waited a few moments, even though in all likelihood Klavier couldn’t possibly hear him over the music.

Kristoph decided to simply open the door. The décor inside reminded Kristoph of Klavier’s room as a young boy, though it was a much larger space than they’d had in their tiny apartment. Large speakers sat on the floor, books and papers haphazardly scattered about. Despite being a place for work, the majority of the place was dedicated to music, a small collection of guitars hung on the wall.

Klavier himself stood in front of the large floor to ceiling window on the opposite wall, an electric guitar on one shoulder. He stared out at the city below, playing with a far off look in his eyes. Kristoph suspected it was one of Klavier’s own songs. Kristoph didn’t feel like shouting, so instead he leaned back against the wall, waiting for his brother to finish.

Kristoph had seen Klavier’s interview, and he’d known that the boy had grown. He didn’t have to see him to know that, after all the last time he’d seen Klavier he’d been fourteen. In his absence, Klavier had grown, now standing taller than Kristoph. He was no longer the lanky teen Kristoph remembered, now bearing elongated limbs with smooth skin. His dimensions were different, chest broad and arms corded with muscles that the Klavier from Kristoph’s memory lacked.

Klavier’s song drew to an end. “Shouldn’t you be studying your case?” Kristoph asked.

Klavier immediately damped his guitar, the last chord ending in a downward glissando. His head whipped around, searching for the familiar voice. Seeing his brother standing at the other end of his office, his eyes widened, his breath caught in his throat. Their identical icy blue eyes met, and time came to a stop. Time and distance had changed the brothers, bringing them to this moment, where they stood opposite each other and wondered if the man across from them was the person they knew.

Time resumed as Klavier cast his guitar aside, placing it on his desk (that Kristoph now noted was itself a giant speaker). In just a few strides, with lengthened legs, Klavier had his arms around Kristoph’s chest, fumbling for a moment as he struggled to fit against him. With his new size, he couldn’t wrap his arms around Kristoph in the way he remembered, no longer able to rest his head on his older brother’s chest.

“Kris!” he cried out with joy, chin resting on his brother’s shoulder. “Mein Gott, it’s been forever!”

Kristoph let out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding, awkwardly wrapping his arms around Klavier. The boy was much sturdier now, no longer soft edges and frail bones in his arms. Even so, hugging his little brother again brought up a feeling of wistful nostalgia.

“Not quite that long,” Kristoph said, giving Klavier a squeeze.

Klavier held on tight, nails digging into Kristoph’s back even as he pulled back to look in Kristoph’s eyes. “I’m so happy to see you!” he said, smiling that same warm smile he always had. “I heard you were defending in my trial tomorrow. Wanted to test my schooling in the courtroom?” he asked.

“Unfortunately, I won’t be facing you in court tomorrow,” Kristoph told him with a frown.

Klavier’s face fell. “What? But I was looking forward to facing you in court,” he said dejectedly.

“As was I,” Kristoph assured. “However, your trial is what brings me here.”

Klavier’s face was still flat. “You mean you didn’t come here just to talk?” he asked jokingly.

Kristoph huffed out a laugh. “Of course not. It’s come to my attention that the person defending in my stead may play dirty tomorrow,” Kristoph explained.

Klavier’s face fell into a deeper frown, his eyes gaining an angry gleam. “What do you mean ‘play dirty,’” he asked suspiciously.

“I mean to say that Phoenix Wright will present forged evidence,” Kristoph clarified.

When Kristoph had learned that Wright had taken the Gramarye case after he’d been fired, he’d been dismayed. It was unfortunate that Wright would get tangled in his plan. But sometimes there were things more important than friendship.

Klavier finally broke out of their hug, stepping back and staring at Kristoph with confusion. “Phoenix Wright? But he’s a legend!” Klavier said indignantly.

Kristoph raised an eyebrow. “Even legends have blood on their hands,” Kristoph insisted.

Klavier stared at him with a deep frown and furrowed brow. “No way! He’s won so many cases. Why would he cheat now?” he asked.

Klavier was clearly having difficulty reconciling the fact that the famed defense attorney was less than perfect. He’d been trained using Phoenix Wright’s famed trials. Both Wright and Edgeworth were idols in his mind that could do no wrong.

“I don’t think you realize how much attention this case has garnered. It’s an international sensation. Winning this would guarantee Wright fame and fortune,” Kristoph said, pushing his glasses up his nose.

Klavier still eyed him disbelievingly. “That’s a serious accusation, are you sure?”

Kristoph smiled at his brother, the expression not reaching his eyes. “Don’t you trust me, Klavier?”

Klavier stared at him for a long time, indecision clear in his eyes. Finally, he let out a long breath before nodding. “Ja, ja klar,” he said softly. “It was nice seeing you, brother, but it appears I have an investigation to conduct,” he said flatly, motioning for Kristoph to leave.

Kristoph nodded, “Good luck,” he said, turning to leave the room.

“Danke,” Klavier said under his breath.

Once outside, Kristoph smirked darkly to himself. Klavier was too arrogant and the wool was pulled too closely over his eyes for him to think for himself. It only confirmed his belief that Klavier had no right to the life he had.

The next day, Klavier did not disappoint. He saw through the defense’s forged evidence and put Misham himself on the stand. There was no way Wright could talk himself out of the hole he was in. Despite his misgivings, Kristoph had to admit that Klavier led a brilliant trial. Everything was perfectly placed. He could do without the sunglasses and the musical numbers, but the trial ran smoothly from start to finish. Kristoph reasoned that prosecutors had that advantage, being able to lay down perfect trials.

However, just as the verdict was about to be handed down, Zak Gramarye disappeared in a cloud of smoke. The courtroom fell into disarray, police scattering in an effort to find the missing defendant. Eventually the trial itself dissolved, leaving Wright in despair outside as Kristoph watched from afar. Zak had left his little girl in his haste to escape, the one that Kristoph had ensured ended up with the forged diary page.

Kristoph approached the dejected man with slow footsteps, careful not to startle him. “Wright,” he called quietly.

The courthouse was in near silence after the commotion that had just occurred. With the defendant missing, the courthouse had been placed on lockdown, no one allowed to enter or leave. Hours passed before every room had been searched with no sign of Zak Gramarye. The lockdown was lifted, and anxious attorneys and gallery members alike eagerly left. Now it seemed Wright, the Gramarye girl, and Kristoph were the only ones left.

Phoenix turned to him with wide eyes, hands shaking. He must still be in shock, Kristoph guessed. It was strange to see Phoenix Wright looking so vulnerable. Kristoph had never seen a grown man look so small, so clearly desperate to sink into the ground and disappear.

“Ah, Kristoph,” he said blankly, voice shaking just as much as his hands. “You came to one of my trials.”

Kristoph glanced at the girl beside him, who was staring at him unabashedly. Kristoph ignored the itch on the back of his neck at her unnerving gaze, instead keeping his attention focused on Wright.

“Yes, I said I would, didn’t I?” Kristoph reminded him.

Wright nodded, eyes glazed over. “You did, didn’t you.”

Kristoph ignored the obvious restatement, instead watching as Wright let out a shuddering breath. “You must think I’m horrible,” he laughed wryly, quickly sucking in air.

Phoenix breathed quickly, chest shuddering with the effort. He was hyperventilating, Kristoph noted. Kristoph put out a hand, resting it on his shoulder.

“Breathe, Wright. You’ll pass out,” he instructed.

Phoenix simply brushed his hand off roughly. “Maybe then I’ll wake up and this will be a horrible nightmare?” he asked.

Kristoph sighed, giving Phoenix as sympathetic a gaze as he could muster. “I’m afraid this is as real as I am.”

Phoenix looked at Kristoph’s face, searching his eyes as if seeing him for the first time. Phoenix reached out a hand touching the skin on Kristoph’s face. Kristoph frowned as Phoenix pinched his cheeks. He tried to justify it as Phoenix obviously being in shock.

“You’re pretty real,” Phoenix said dejectedly.

“Unfortunately.”

Phoenix’s hands fell from Kristoph’s face, falling limply onto the man’s shoulders as he searched Kristoph’s face. Kristoph could see a helplessness in his eyes that Kristoph himself knew very well. Kristoph could see that Phoenix was lost and needed direction. Kristoph could provide some assistance.

“Let me take you home,” Kristoph offered, squeezing Phoenix’s shoulder.

Phoenix just continued to stare at him, before nodding numbly. Kristoph turned to move, leading the way to his car. Behind him, Phoenix looked at the Gramarye girl.

“C’mon, Trucy,” he said quietly, guiding the girl to follow Kristoph.

Kristoph glanced back, eyeing Phoenix strangely. He hadn’t thought that the girl would be coming along with them. However, he wasn’t going to mention it in front of the girl. He’d heard of Phoenix’s penchant for adopting strays into his clan, supported by the fact that he frequently showed up in court with an eclectic crew of assistants. Kristoph supposed this was just another example.

Kristoph drove the three of them to Wright’s apartment in silence, Trucy swinging her legs in the backseat while Phoenix stared listlessly out the window at the passing city. His demeanor didn’t change when he led his two companions into his home, he simply kicked off his shoes and glanced at Trucy behind him.

“Um, are you hungry?” he asked awkwardly.

The girl nodded, standing awkwardly in the doorway.

Kristoph watched as Phoenix searched his kitchen for something appropriate for a child. His hands were still shaking, he fumbled with his kitchenware as he attempted to set it on the stove. Kristoph approached him, hearing him curse under his breath as he set down the pans, burying his face in his shaking hands. Kristoph put a comforting hand on Phoenix’s back.

“Allow me,” he said. “You can show the girl around.”

Phoenix eyes shone with gratitude as he met Kristoph’s eyes. Phoenix nodded, turning around to collect Trucy. He went to her side awkwardly, staring down at her. His natural instinct was to take her hand and lead her around. That’s what he and Maya did with Pearls after all, and this girl was Pearl’s age. Yet he didn’t feel comfortable taking her by the hand. She wasn’t his child. So instead he awkwardly waved for her to follow him.

“Here, I’ll show you where you’re going to sleep tonight,” he said gently.

With that he and Trucy disappeared into another room. Kristoph busied himself preparing a modest dinner. It was strange to look around someone’s kitchen and see such meager ingredients. Kristoph was slightly appalled that the famed Phoenix Wright would buy generic brand pasta sauce. Kristoph tried to ignore that, thankful that at least Phoenix had pasta sauce. Kristoph settled for spaghetti, as it was quick and easy enough.

Around ten minutes later, Phoenix led Trucy back to the dining table where Kristoph had set out a small meal. “It smells like Kristoph is done with dinner,” Phoenix said as they reentered the room.

The three companions sat down for dinner, Trucy quickly digging in, obviously hungry. She hadn’t eaten during the entirety of the trial, meaning the last meal she’d had would have been that morning. It was now early evening. Even though Phoenix hadn’t eaten either, he picked idly at his meal, more interested in watching the strange girl than eating himself. Kristoph ate slowly, silence falling over the table. Trucy finished up, and Phoenix glanced at heranxiously.

“Um, how about you get ready for bed? I can give you an old shirt to wear for the night if you need it,” Phoenix offered.

The girl shook her head. “I’m okay,” she insisted.

She stood up, taking her plate and reaching above her head to set it in the sink. From there she walked into Phoenix’s bedroom, cape swishing behind her. Phoenix let her go, still playing with his food. Once the door was closed, Kristoph turned to Phoenix and spoke in a quiet voice.

“You didn’t have to let her stay here,” he said.

Phoenix looked at him, eyes flat and dull. “I couldn’t just leave her at the courthouse,” he replied.

“We could have dropped her at the police station. She wouldn’t be the first abandoned child they’ve dealt with.”

Phoenix just shrugged listlessly.

“You can still drop her off in the morning,” Kristoph suggested.

Phoenix shook his head. “No, I’m going to find her relatives. I don’t want to just pawn her off on the first person that will take her.”

Kristoph frowned, before shaking his head. “Alright, if you insist.”

Silence fell between the two of them once again. After a minute, Kristoph stood, gathering Phoenix’s uneaten food. He stored the leftovers and washed off the dishes, setting them out to dry. When he’d finished, Phoenix had migrated to the tattered couch, staring blankly at the wall. Kristoph toweled off his hands, moving to sit beside him. A spring dug into his backside as he settled on the couch.
Phoenix spoke without looking at him. “Why did you help me?” he asked quietly.

Kristoph watched the side of Phoenix’s cheek, trying to catch Phoenix’s eyes. “I believe in you,” he answered.

Phoenix let out a wry laugh. “After this, no one else will,” he murmured.

“Anyone that matters will,” Kristoph insisted.

Phoenix mouth twisted into a wry grin, his chest shaking. As much as he tried to stifle it, he quickly devolved into sobs, bringing a hand up to his face to cover his mouth. Kristoph remained still, simply watching as tears tracked down the others man’s face. His muffled sobs filled the quiet apartment, and he glanced towards the door, hoping Trucy couldn’t hear.

“What am I going to do?” Phoenix asked, voice quiet and choked with tears. “I’m going to lose my badge.”

Kristoph placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “If that happens you’ll have to find another life for yourself.”

Phoenix sighed, falling back against the arm of the couch, still sobbing quietly. He watched Kristoph with tired eyes, his sobs slowly dying as the night wore on. Eventually they died out, an inescapable fatigue falling over Phoenix’s bones. His head fell back and he stared at the ceiling, wishing for and endless sleep to take him.

“Thank you, Kristoph,” he said quietly.

“Anything for a friend,” Kristoph assured.

Kristoph glanced at the time, noting that it was far too late for him to still be out. He slowly stood, eyeing Phoenix with concern.

“I should get going. Are you going to be alright?” he asked.

Phoenix simply nodded, waving Kristoph on.

“I’ll call tomorrow to check on you, if you don’t mind,” Kristoph offered.

Phoenix nodded, reaching into his pocket to hand Kristoph a business card. Kristoph took it, tucking it into his pocket as he slowly turned his back on the other man.

“Good night, sleep well,” he wished.

“You, too,” Phoenix murmured, voice still hoarse from crying.

The next day, Kristoph was summoned by the Bar Association to discuss whether Phoenix Wright should keep his badge. It was decided that the committee would take a vote. Kristoph was the only one to vote in Wright’s favor, and so Phoenix Wright, ace attorney, was disbarred.

Chapter Text

Kristoph was awakened by an incessant banging on his front door in the middle of the night. Kristoph groaned, rolling out of bed and throwing on a robe to cover his sleep clothes. He grabbed his glasses from the bedside table, carefully putting them on and fumbling for the door. He padded across the dark apartment, eyes still sore from sleep. The banging echoed around the apartment, and through his sleep hazed eyes, Kristoph could see the frame literally shaking from the force of it.

Kristoph unceremoniously ripped the door open, already glaring at the person on the other side. Kristoph was met with identical eyes staring back.

“Klavier,” Kristoph said flatly, not having expected to find his younger brother at his door.

Klavier was clearly less flippant, his mouth turned into a deep frown. Clear lines in his skin marked the furrow in his brow, the laugh lines. Despite the prosecutor’s youth, time had not been kind to him. Klavier looked nearly five years older, though Kristoph suspected it worked in his brother’s favor, considering his young age in comparison to his coworkers. Klavier held himself like someone in his late twenties, not like a teenager that had yet to hit adulthood.

“You’re friends with him?” Klavier spat in Kristoph’s face.

Klavier fisted his hands in the chest of Kristoph’s robe, forcefully pushing him back into the apartment. Kristoph growled in the back of his throat, bringing his hands up to pry Klavier’s fingers off him.

“I would appreciate it if you would get your dirty hands off me,” Kristoph snapped.

Klavier let go of Kristoph with a final push, backing off to glare at Kristoph from across the room. The back of Kristoph’s knees hit the arm of his couch with Klavier’s shove. Kristoph was too surprised by Klavier’s actions to properly react. He’d never seen Klavier this furious, especially not directed towards himself. His little brother was easy-going and nonchalant, always wearing a carefree smile and a jubilant glint in his eyes.

“Oh, my hands are dirty? I’m not the one hanging out with a known criminal!” Klavier yelled derisively.

Ah, Kristoph thought. Now he had a spark of understanding as to why Klavier had bust his door down.

“This is about Mr. Wright,” Kristoph stated, pushing up his glasses to hide his expression.

Klavier scoffed. “Ja this is about Herr Wright,” he snapped. “I had to hear from Herr Payne that apparently you’re friends now.”

Kristoph stared at him blankly as Klavier gestured emphatically with his hands. “Is that a problem?” he asks, knowing the question will only incite Klavier’s rage.

Klavier fumed under Kristoph’s unemotional gaze. The fact that Kristoph was hardly reacting to Klavier’s anger only served to anger him more. The cool demeanor that Klavier had respected as a child was working against him now. Klavier’s glare harshened, eyes blazing with righteous fury.

“Oh, nein, nein,” Klavier said mockingly. “The only problem is that you’re the only one that voted for a forger to keep his badge. What could possibly be the problem with that?”

Klavier threaded his fingers in his hair, beginning to pace about the entryway of the apartment. Kristoph followed him with his eyes. Klavier walked between the kitchen counter and the outside window, turning on his heel when he reached one and retracing his steps.

“You were the one that told me about his forgery, Kristoph!” Klavier growled. “What's wrong with you? Is the fact that Herr Wright tried to disgrace me in court a joke to you?”

Kristoph raised his hands and shook his head in an attempt to placate his brother. “These things are more complex than they seem,” he said vaguely.

Klavier turned to glare at his brother, hands balling into fists. Kristoph could tell from his violent eyes that he wanted to grab Kristoph and shake some sense into him.

“What exactly is so complicated? Herr Wright forged evidence, what is so complicated about fucking forged evidence?” Klavier yelled. “If it’s so complicated then explain it to me, Kristoph! I’ll wait,” Klavier demanded.

Kristoph simply shrugged, the dismissive motion causing Klavier to grit his teeth. “Mr. Wright is a friend,” Kristoph said, leaving it at that.

Klavier waited, vibrating with anger, daring Kristoph to speak again. When it became apparent that Kristoph was done with his flimsy explanation, Klavier erupted.

Klavier slammed his hand against the wall at his back. “That’s it? That’s your excuse?” he howled. “I’m your brother, wichser! And that man tried to undermine everything that I stand for; does that mean nothing to you?”

Kristoph eyed him darkly. “You’re asking me to abandon a friend for you?”

Klavier slammed his hand against the wall again. “I’m asking you to not align yourself with fucking criminals, especially ones that targeted me!” he spat. Klavier put a hand to his forehead, tangling his fingers in his short hair as he let out a dark laugh. “I should have known. You don’t talk to me for two years and then I come back to this Scheiße. Tell me, would you have ever talked to me again had it not been for this case?”

The corner of Kristoph’s mouth twitched. “Must I remind you, that you were the one who wanted to go to Germany?” Kristoph snapped.

“Oh, excuse me, I didn’t realize leaving to study abroad for fucking law school was akin to disowning you,” he shot back sarcastically. “You could have picked up a verdammt phone any time you wanted.”

Kristoph sneered at the boy. “As could you.”

Klavier no longer looked as if he wanted to shake Kristoph. Now he looked more like he wanted to strangle his brother. Klavier pulled at his hair, nearly ripping it out.

“I was a child, Kristoph! What was I to do when my big brother stopped returning my calls? You were supposed to take care of me and you weren’t there!” Klavier yelled, voice raw from old wounds that still stung.

“You think it was easy raising you? I had more responsibilities than just you. I had my own life I had to lead,” Kristoph snapped closing his eyes to avoid Klavier’s gaze.

His brother’s eyes were still harsh and piercing, clouded with rage. But now they were wide and wounded in addition to the anger. Meeting his brother’s eyes made something deep in Kristoph’s chest twinge. So instead Kristoph closed himself off to avoid confronting painful emotions.

“You stopped raising me as soon as I left the country so don’t pull that Scheiße on me!” Klavier spat.

Kristoph’s eyes snapped open to glare at his brother. “Oh did I? Then pray tell, who paid your student loans?” Kristoph challenged.

Klavier laughed ruefully, turning his head to the side. “Of course that’s all you think goes into raising a child. I can pay twice what you paid for my schooling now, but tell me, where were you when I got sick and had to go to the hospital? Or when I realized I liked men as well as girls? Or when I went on my first date? Where were you at my graduation, when I gave a speech to hundreds of people, none of whom were you?” Klavier asked sharply, throwing his hands out.

Kristoph was silent. He watched Klavier as he ranted, let him finish his tirade. When Klavier was done, he looked to Kristoph for an answer, while Kristoph stood still as a statue with neatly folded arms. Their eyes met, daring the other to make a move.

Klavier dropped his hands, frowning. “That’s what I thought. Ever since I left, I’ve raised myself.” He reached into his pocket, pulling out his wallet and grabbing a slip of paper from the inside. “Here’s a blank check, so take your verdammt money.” He slapped the check onto Kristoph’s counter. “And once you do, my debt is paid. As far as I’m concerned you’re no brother of mine.”

Klavier turned on his heel and left, the apartment door closing behind him with a slam. All through Klavier’s departure, Kristoph remained still, in the same position he had been when Klavier began speaking. After all this time, that kind of emotional response had been what he’d hoped to get from Klavier. The boy was obviously angry and hurt, all because of Kristoph. That had been his goal, hadn’t it? Somehow the victory felt hollow.

No matter, Kristoph thought. At least he’s out of my life now. Kristoph’s couldn’t help thinking his life would have been better if he’d never had a brother in the first place. Losing him now would have to suffice.

What most people didn’t know was that Klavier, unlike Kristoph, was not a natural blonde. Similarly, the boy’s tanned skin was not a product of hours spent under artificial lights in a salon. Klavier had been born with thick, chocolate colored hair and olive skin that stood out against their parents’. It hadn’t been until they moved to America that Klavier began bleaching his hair in an effort to resemble his brother.

Both boys’ faces favored their mother; with blonde hair the two were nearly identical. Now, Klavier’s hair was so heavily damaged and stripped of its natural color that Kristoph suspected it couldn’t go back to the dark brown of Klavier’s childhood. Sometimes, Kristoph wondered if Klavier even remembered his natural hair color.

The significance of his brother’s dark hair didn’t hit Kristoph until his teens. In biology, he was learning about genetics: alleles, recessive and dominant genes. Kristoph was bent over a Punnett square when it hit him. The realization caused him to drop his pen and double over as if the wind had been knocked out of him.

He got up without thinking, his feet carrying him to Klavier’s room. Inside Klavier was playing with a toy piano their mother had bought him. His dark hair was falling into his eyes as he struggled to recreate “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” by memory with his chubby fingers. He watched Klavier with glassy eyes, instead remembering when his father still lived with them, when he would play with Kristoph. Blond hair and fair skin, just like their mother. Just like Kristoph.

Silence pulled Kristoph out of his memory, to where Klavier was looking up at his with inquisitive eyes. “Kris?” he asked in his high-pitched child’s voice. “What’s wrong?”

Kristoph looked at the boy, before shaking his head. “Nothing, pup. Just checking on you.”

With that he went back to his room, sitting back down at his desk. He understood now why his father left, why Klavier was cherished by his mother, and why Kristoph was doomed to failure in her eyes. He could feel the resentment boiling in his veins. Kristoph shook his head. No, Klavier was his brother, no matter what. He wasn’t going to let… this consume him. Kristoph pushed his revelation to the back of his mind. He refused to acknowledge it, because doing so would give it power over him. His life was hard enough as it was, he didn’t need to make it even more complicated.

So Kristoph kept that secret to himself, made it his own, denied its existence. Even so, it throbbed under every bit of discord in his heart, feeding his rage.

Chapter Text

Two weeks after Wright’s disbarment, Kristoph invited him to dinner once again under the guise of checking on him. Phoenix invited him to his place, where he let Kristoph order in as they sat at the table. Kristoph was surprised to find that the Gramarye girl was still living with him, one side of Wright’s living area already littered with tools of her trade.

Kristoph raised his eyebrow at the discarded magician’s hat and wand. “The girl’s still staying here?” he asked.

Of all things, he hadn’t expected Phoenix to end up with the girl under his care. Then again, he hadn’t expected Zak Gramarye to disappear before a verdict had been called either. If everything had gone as planned, Zak Gramarye should have been rotting in a jail cell awaiting his punishment. Instead he was in the wind, Phoenix and Kristoph left to pick up the pieces.

Phoenix nodded, looking much smaller than the previous times Kristoph had seen him. He was wearing casual clothes, a shirt and sweats that practically swallowed him. If Kristoph hadn’t known better, he never would have guessed that this was the same sharply dressed Phoenix Wright he’d known. This man was weak and weary, not passionate and driven like Wright.

“Yeah, I tried to find her relatives, but as far as I can tell she doesn’t have any,” Phoenix replied, running his finger over the rim of his glass.

“So you’re keeping her?” Kristoph asked dubiously.

Phoenix nodded. “For now. Maybe longer,” he admitted.

Kristoph quirked an eyebrow. “Is that wise?”

Phoenix shrugged. “Probably not. But what else can I do? She’s been through enough already,” he said helplessly.

Kristoph shook his head. “You’ve been through just as much,” he pointed out. “And might I remind you that you’re unemployed now?”

Kristoph took a quick glance around the apartment. The place itself was threadbare, with worn, secondhand furniture. It looked somewhat cleaner than it had been two weeks ago, loose trash having been picked up and the floor cleaned. There were still suspicious stains on the carpet, and water damage in the ceiling. Likely things that Phoenix hadn’t cared about or bothered to fix. Despite being a legal legend, the man had never had much money. Too much charity work, Kristoph assumed. He had heard about Phoenix Wright’s soft heart and empty pockets. He’d never imagined the man would live in a shoddy place like this. Suffice to say, it might have been fine for bachelor Phoenix Wright, but not a good place to raise a kid.

Phoenix just shrugged again. “I’ll figure something out.” From the tremor in his voice, he was likely trying to convince himself as much as Kristoph. “Besides, she’s eight. The hard part’s over, right?” he asked weakly.

Kristoph eyed him with amusement. “You do realize she has yet to go through puberty? You’ll have to tell her about the birds and the bees, go bra shopping with her.” Kristoph paused, unable to help how the corner of his mouth tilted upwards. “Buy her tampons.”

Phoenix groaned is dismay, placing his head in his hands with fingers digging into his scalp. “I’m so screwed,” he moaned.

Kristoph chuckled softly, idly sipping at the grape juice Phoenix had poured him. “You seem fairly determined to take care of the girl,” Kristoph said observantly.

Phoenix raised his head from his dejected slump to peer up at Kristoph. “I don’t know,” he sighed. “I know it’s silly and any rational person would have left her at the courthouse that day.”

“But a complete lack of rational thinking is what Phoenix Wright is famous for,” Kristoph said with a small grin.

Phoenix chuckled lightly before continuing. “I just can’t help but think that we both just lost something important to us. So maybe I can help her,” he said, punctuating his words with a shrug.

Kristoph just shook his head. “The joke among attorneys is that you have a have a habit of adopting strays. However, I never thought it to be literal.”

Phoenix raised an eyebrow. “I took you in, didn’t I?” he teased.

Kristoph scoffed. “Oh please, if anything, I took you in,” he insisted.

Phoenix’s teasing grin faded to a wistful smile. “I suppose I do take in all kinds. I’ve spent the last three years making my own patchwork family.” He sighed. “I wonder if any of them will talk to me now.”

Kristoph’s face fell, taking in the other man’s solemn eyes. His gaze fell down to scratched table under his hands. Most of Wright’s friendswere in law enforcement after all. They’d have to ask themselves whether they believed in Wright more than they believed the law. And uncomfortable thing for anyone who worked in the courtroom to face. It was a difficult struggle to overcome.

Kristoph met Phoenix’s eyes once more. “For what it’s worth, I’ll be here regardless,” he offered.

Phoenix smiled appreciatively. “Thanks for that.” He took a sip from his own glass of grape juice. “Why are you here, anyways?” he finally asked, the question had been on the tip of his tongue since Kristoph had arrived.

Kristoph gave him a questioningly look. “I’m paying for your food, remember?”

Phoenix shook his head. “No, I mean here talking to me. Your little brother was the prosecutor for my case. Isn't buddying up with me a conflict of interest?”

Kristoph flinched, expression growing dark. “The less said about my brother, the better,” he said simply.

“That bad, huh?”

Kristoph glared at him. What part of “don’t talk about it” did Phoenix not understand? Kristoph figured he should have known better, Phoenix was a former lawyer after all. It was in lawyers’ nature to be as nosy as possible.

“Let’s just say we’re not getting together for Christmas,” Kristoph said simply.

Phoenix looked at him thoughtfully. “Do you have any other family?” he asked quietly.

Kristoph shook his head. “It’s just Klavier and I.” Kristoph paused for a moment. “And his millions of fans,” he grumbled.

“But you don’t get along?” Phoenix prodded.

Kristoph didn’t appreciate Phoenix intruding into his life. “It’s complicated,” he snapped.

After his outburst, Phoenix stared at him with wide eyes. Kristoph coughed into his hand, hiding his flustered expression with his hand. He hadn’t meant to have an outburst. His newly severed relationship with his brother seemed to still be a sore subject.

“My apologies,” he said brusquely. “It’s not a pleasant topic.”

Phoenix nodded, eyes still wide with shock. “Yeah, sorry for prying.”

An awkward pause filled the small kitchen. Kristoph redirected the conversation.

“So, if you’re taking care of the girl, what are you going to do?” Kristoph asked.

Phoenix looked up thoughtfully, pursing his lips. “Well, I’ll probably have to enroll her in school. And probably get healthier food. Kids need more than Cheez Whiz and Kool-Aid, don’t they?” Phoenix mused.

Kristoph was tempted to reach across the table and smack Phoenix upside the head. “I meant about a job, smartass. You’re going to need some source of income if you want to support the two of you.”

Phoenix nodded in agreement. “Well, Trucy suggested I take up piano playing like her daddy did before he was a magician,” he said.

Kristoph crossed his arms, giving Phoenix a dubious look. “Do you know the first thing about playing piano?” Kristoph asked.

Phoenix tilted his head thoughtfully. “No. But it can’t be that hard, can it?”

“You should ask my brother, the rockstar, about that one,” Kristoph said. “You don’t have a better plan?”

“Well, my undergrad was in art,” Phoenix said.

Kristoph blinked, looking at Phoenix with mild surprise. “You’re an artist?” he asked.

Phoenix laughed slightly. “Not for a long time, but yes. Maybe next time I can bring my pad and I’ll draw you,” he offered.

“Are you going to charge me for it?” Kristoph asked skeptically.

Phoenix threw his head back in a genuine laugh. “We’ll talk pricing later,” he teased.

Before Kristoph could respond, there was a knock at the door. “And that would be dinner,” he said, getting up to answer the door.

Life moved on. Kristoph continued to buy Phoenix dinner once a week. He told himself that it was just a means of keeping eyes on him. If he knew Phoenix Wright, he was already investigating how the forgery had ended up in his hands. There were many nights that Kristoph woke up to Phoenix calling him. He would answer to find Phoenix nearly unintelligible, slurring his words and hiccupping through tears.

Kristoph would sit up, eyes bleary as he tried to orient himself around the voice on the other end of the line. “Wright what is this about?” he asked.

“This was a mistake,” he slurred. “I don’t know the first thing about raising a kid.”

Kristoph rubbed his eyes, laying back down on his pillow. “I think anyone could have told you that,” he grumbled.

Phoenix just made a choking noise on the other end. “What am I doing with my life?” he moaned.

“You’re doing what you can,” Kristoph assured. “What brought this on?”

Phoenix paused, sniffling pathetically. Kristoph was getting tired of constantly having to deal with people crying on his shoulder.

“Trucy had a nightmare,” he said quietly. “She woke up crying for ‘Daddy.’” Phoenix sighed heavily. “I went in to comfort her, but it just made her cry harder.”

Kristoph stared up at the ceiling blankly. “It’s understandable, she’s been through a lot recently,” Kristoph assured. “Is she asleep now?”

“Yeah. I got her a glass of warm milk and read to her. I do similar stuff for Miles,” he trailed off.

“Then what’s the problem?” Kristoph asked, voice more tired than annoyed.

Phoenix was silent for a moment. “She needs her dad. I can’t be that for her,” he said quietly.

“No one can, except her father,” Kristoph said simply. “It’s not as if she would be better off in the system.”

Phoenix took a couple deep breaths. “Yeah.” There was a long pause before he continued. “I just thought that without my badge maybe this was a sign?” Phoenix laughed harshly. “That sounds silly out loud. But being a lawyer was what I was good at, and I was passionate about it, it was my life!

“I thought that if I couldn’t do that anymore I could help this girl, but right now it feels like I’m just going to mess her life up even more.” Phoenix’s voice became muffled, choked with tears.

Kristoph let out a long sigh. “Listen, Wright,” Kristoph said sharply. “Kids have grown up without fathers before. My father left when Klavier was born, and then our mother died when he was nine. From then on I raised him, and believe me, any child is better off with you than me. And even so, Klavier turned out fine.”

Phoenix couldn’t help but chuckle. “I’m probably the wrong person to ask,” he said wryly.

Kristoph smiled slightly. “Regardless, you have to admit he’s good at his job.”

“Which one?” Phoenix asked with a wet laugh.

Kristoph laughed with him. “Thanks, Kristoph,” Phoenix said softly.

“I take it you feel better?” Kristoph asked, letting his body sink into the mattress, suddenly feeling unnaturally heavy.

Phoenix hummed into the phone, and a comfortable silence fell over them. Despite his weariness, Kristoph found there was a question he needed to ask before he could fall asleep. He shifted in bed, rubbing at his eyes.

“Why did you call me?” he asked, voice genuine.

Phoenix was quiet for a long time, to the point that Kristoph wondered if he’d hung up, or fallen asleep. When Phoenix finally spoke Kristoph was almost startled.

“Because you’re the only one I cancall,” he replied quietly.

Kristoph was silent. Later he would learn that the only true friends Phoenix still had were Maya and Edgeworth, both of which were unavailable much of the time. Most of Phoenix’s other friends worked in the legal field, and they had abandoned Phoenix Wright, either to preserve their own dignity or because their jobs simply left them without time to see him, now that their careers no longer intersected. As for Maya, she was too busy in Kurain, having become the Master, and her village had yet to get cell phone reception. Edgeworth was halfway across the world in Europe, time zones and long distance calls keeping him from being available for Phoenix’s midnight calls.

But at the time, he simply remained silent, feeling a twinge of empathy for Phoenix’s loneliness. “I understand. If it’s any consolation, you’re welcome to call me,” he offered. “Now, I need to be in court tomorrow, are you alright?”

“Yeah, of course. Goodnight,” Phoenix said.

“Good night,” Kristoph replied, ending the call.

Phoenix came to rely on Kristoph through his life’s many changes. He took a job playing piano (badly) at a dive bar at Trucy’s suggestion. He took art commissions on the side, and Trucy herself performed magic shows at the Wonder Bar, shows that Phoenix frequently insisted Kristoph attend. Trucy always gave him strange looks when he showed up, and Kristoph was always relieved when she didn’t pick him out of the audience.

Eventually, Kristoph moved out of his apartment, buying a house in the suburbs with a big yard. He finally cleaned out the rest of Klavier’s things from his room, placing anything of value in a box to store in his attic, where it would gather cobwebs and dust. The rest was thrown out. This was the apartment Kristoph had lived in all through school, through his training, and the start of his career. Kristoph imagined it symbolic of him throwing out his old life.

When he moved into his new place, with smooth hardwood floors and marble countertops, he thought the place perfect. He ignored the fact that his steps echoed against the walls, and that the house seemed too empty with just one person.

Chapter Text

In October, Kristoph invited Phoenix to his house to watch the coverage of the UR-1 incident. Phoenix sat on his couch, unscratched leather with hard springs still waiting to be broken in. Trucy was around the corner at Kristoph’s kitchen counter, a deck of cards laid out in front of her, while Kristoph stood on the other side, checking on his pork chops.

“Is this your card, Mr. Gavin?” she asked, holding up a King of Clubs for Kristoph to see.

Kristoph glanced up before nodding. “Impressive.”

Trucy beamed up at him, returning the card to her deck and reshuffling. “Card tricks are the building blocks for any great magician!” she exclaimed, already laying out her cards for another trick.

Kristoph just hummed in mild agreement, more focused on preparing dinner than on the girl’s tricks. It was only a few more minutes before Kristoph declared their food done, and pulled it from the oven. Setting it on the stove to cool. He started to dole out food onto their plates, along with roasted potatoes.

As he prepared their plates he turned to Trucy. “Go tell your father dinner’s ready,” he instructed.

Trucy hopped down off the bar stool, trotting over to where Phoenix sat on the couch. “Daddy, it’s chow time!” she chirped, grabbing at his sleeve.

Phoenix smiled, getting up and letting her drag him to the table. They sat next to each other, facing towards the living room so Phoenix could lean over and watch the latest news periodically. Kristoph would normally chide the man on bad table manners, but he himself was interested in the case, so he let it slide. He brought the two the dinner he’d prepared, setting his own plate opposite them.

“What would you like to drink, Trucy?” he asked with a polite smile.

“Um, I’ll have a glass of milk,” she replied.

Kristoph nodded, reaching into his fridge to pour a glass of milk for Trucy. On his way back to the table he opened his cupboard, pulling down a bottle of grape juice for Wright. He gently set the glass down in front of Trucy, earning a polite thanks from the young girl. As he poured grape juice into Wright’s glass, he noticed the man leaning to the side to stare at the TV.

“Has anything changed?” Kristoph asked, sitting down.

Phoenix sighed, shaking his head. “No, they’re going to declare a guilty verdict any minute now,” he muttered.

Kristoph eyed him, taking a sip of grape juice. “You think otherwise?” Kristoph asked.

“He’s totally innocent!” Trucy piped up, staring at Kristoph with quiet intensity.

Kristoph was surprised at the girl’s sudden outburst. She was usually carefree, with a bright smile and a bounce in her step. He wasn’t used to seeing her with steadfast determination in her eyes.Especially in regards to his profession. Most of Trucy’s excitement was reserved for magic.

Kristoph covered his surprise by looking at Trucy with amusement. “What makes you believe that?”

Trucy sat back, lips pursed as she crossed her arms over her chest. “I dunno,” she admitted. “I just get this weird feeling whenever that defender person—”

“Defendant,” Phoenix corrected. “And his name is Simon.”

Trucy huffed in annoyance. “You know what I meant! But whenever he talks I just get all, weird feeling,” she said vaguely.

Phoenix looked at her with a warm smile, putting a comforting hand on her arm. “What Trucy said, plus that defense attorney is ignoring vital testimony.” Phoenix frowned.

“You mean that girl?” Kristoph asked, earning a nod from Phoenix. “She’s just a child though. She could just be protecting him,” he pointed out.

“Hey!” Trucy yelled indignantly, pouting. “She’s older than me, and I’m not just a child!” she insisted.

Kristoph spared her a quick glance while Phoenix just chuckled. “Even if she is a kid, you can’t just ignore testimony,” Phoenix insisted.

Kristoph quirked an eyebrow. “Says the man who put a parrot on the stand.”

“Hey, I won that case. If anything you’re just proving my point,” Phoenix said, folding his arms and smirking triumphantly.

“Daddy, you put a parrot on the stand?” Trucy asked, eyes practically shining. “I didn’t know lawyers worked with animals, too!”

Phoenix rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Uncle Miles can tell you all about it,” he said dismissively.

Trucy pouted, looking to Kristoph for an explanation.

Kristoph shrugged helplessly, shaking his head. “What your father says.”

Trucy’s pout remained, as she sat back with an exasperated huff, folding her arms. “Back to the case at hand,” Kristoph said, refocusing their conversation. “Even if the defense is a hack, I’m not sure I trust the defendant. He is a prosecutor, after all,” Kristoph pointed out.

Phoenix rolled his eyes at that while Trucy pouted more severely. “What’s that mean? Uncle Miles is a prosecutor.”

“Kristoph is just a sore loser,” Phoenix said with a teasing glint in his eyes.

Kristoph frowned, looking at Phoenix with a withering glare. “I’m just being realistic. You of all people should know that prosecutors often play dirty.”

“That doesn’t mean they’re all murderers,” Phoenix said with a frown to match Kristoph’s.

“Right, and how many of your rival prosecutors have you put away for murder?” Kristoph challenged with a raised brow.

Phoenix paused, lost in thought. “Two, but that’s beside the point. You’re forgetting that I also defended one.”

“Before another one got you disbarred,” Kristoph added.

Phoenix stopped, sinking back into his chair weakly. “Ah, my apologies,” Kristoph said with a sympathetic look. “But my point is, I have a reason not to trust prosecutors.”

Phoenix sighed, glancing at the sight of a young prosecutor being escorted from the courtroom in shackles. “And after this case, so does the public.”

Kristoph simply shook his head. “The public had a reason not to trust the courts long before this trial.”

Phoenix nodded weakly, before forcing a pained smile. “But if my girl thinks he’s innocent, then I think he’s innocent, too,” Phoenix said firmly, squeezing Trucy’s arm again.

The small girl next to him looked up with a bright, toothy grin. Kristoph refrained from pointing out that Phoenix was no longer in any position to act on his suspicions. He imagined Phoenix was fully aware of that fact, and that it haunted him day in and day out.

It was later that night, when Phoenix and Kristoph were sitting in his living room that Phoenix pulled out his drawing pad. Kristoph had offered to let the two spend the night in his guest bedroom. The night had worn on and Kristoph no longer felt like driving Phoenix back to his place. Phoenix had already sent Trucy to bed, and now he and Kristoph were sitting in his living room. The TV flashed dimly, repeating the details of the UR-1 trial, going on to cover the HAT-1 launch on the day of the murder. The sound was low, a quiet drone in the background as Kristoph curled up with a book on his lap.

“What are you reading?” Phoenix asked idly, continuing to sketch on his paper.

“Crime and Punishment,” he replied idly, his eyes continuing to scan the page.

“One of my favorites,” Phoenix said with a hint of laughter.

Kristoph looked at him over the rim of him glasses skeptically. “Please, the only books you read probably have pictures.”

Phoenix stuck out his tongue. “You’d be surprised. I had to read a book on evidence law for a case once. And go back to reading, I’m sketching you,” he ordered.

Kristoph did as instructed, though found his eyes kept skimming over the same line. “Besides, Miles is totally into all that intellectual crap, and I’ve picked up a few things from him.”

“Dostoyevsky’s work is not‘intellectual crap,’” Kristoph objected.

“Yeah, yeah, ‘cultural impact,’ ‘reflective of the times,’ ‘literary classic,’ trust me, I’ve heard it,” Phoenix teased. “What’d I tell you? Hold still.”

Kristoph huffed in annoyance, but followed orders. A comfortable silence fell over them, broken only by the soft scratching of graphite on paper. Phoenix paused in his work for a moment, staring at Kristoph contemplatively. Kristoph was thankful that he’d been instructed to look down, but he still felt uneasy under the other man’s gaze.

Phoenix finally said what was on his mind. “Isn’t this house a little big for one person?” Phoenix asked.

“Why do you ask?” Kristoph countered.

Phoenix shrugged, resuming his drawing. “You’ve got two bedrooms that aren’t being used, a huge yard, and a fantastic living room but no one to share it with.”

“I’m sharing it with you, aren’t I?” Kristoph retorted.

Phoenix shrugged. “You know what I mean. Is there a special someone I don’t know about?” he teased.

Kristoph wrinkled his nose, mouth twitching. “Oh, please. You know I have no interest in that.”

Phoenix nodded. “And that’s fine, but don’t you get lonely in such a big house?” he asked.

Kristoph scoffed at the idea, even if it did strike a chord in his chest. “No. Believe it or not, not all of us having to be constantly surrounded by others to feel at ease.”

Phoenix just hummed noncommittally, letting the conversation lull to a stop as he put the finishing touches on his sketch. When he was done he slid the drawing pad across the floor where it came to a stop at Kristoph’s feet. Kristoph set his book aside, leaning down to pick up the pad. If he hadn’t watched it himself, he would be hesitant to assume the sketch was of him. Not to say that it was bad, Kristoph was actually surprised at the level of detail. That was definitely the curve of his jaw and the sharp slant of his nose.

What gave Kristoph pause was that the way he appeared on paper was not how he was used to seeing himself in the mirror. Kristoph’s likeness had downcast eyes, glasses perched low on his nose, torso angled away so that he could tuck his feet under himself. The person Phoenix had drawn was strangely unguarded and soft. Phoenix’s drawing was all curved lines and soft edges, not the sharply intense man Kristoph knew himself to be.

“You seem to have some measure of skill, Wright,” Kristoph said after a minute. “I’m surprised.”

He slid the pad back to the other man, who chuckled, flipping the sketchbook closed. “Your assessment is appreciated,” he said. “I’m off to bed. Good night.”

“Good night,” Kristoph called, watching as Phoenix strode down the hall to the room Trucy was already fast asleep in.

Kristoph frowned after he’d left, eyeing the sketchbook left on his coffee table. Phoenix staying in his house, cooking dinner, card games with Trucy… It was all rather domestic, and it indicated a certain degree of familiarity. Kristoph had been telling himself over the past year that this was just a bit of insurance. He was keeping an eye on Wright, which had the added bonus of angering his brother. However, Kristoph wondered if he’d gone too far, if he’d crossed the line at some point to where his interest in Wright was more than just an elaborate ruse.

Kristoph picked up his book, resuming his place. He supposed that there were worse fates than accidentally growing fond of someone.

 
One day, Wright showed up on his doorstep unannounced. He proceeded to pound loudly on the door until Kristoph angrily wrenched it open, levelling the man on the other side with a simmering glare. It was times like these that Kristoph questioned his own judgement. However, Kristoph did not expect to come face to face with a wriggling ball of panting fur in Wright’s outstretched hands.

“Happy birthday!” Wright exclaimed cheerfully in response to Kristoph’s speechlessness.

Kristoph instinctively reached up to take the fur ball from Phoenix’s hands, proceeding to hold it at arms’ length. "It’s not my birthday,” Kristoph said drily, unamused.

Phoenix shrugged, stepping past Kristoph into the house. “Well we’ve known each other for over a year, so I figure it must have been your birthday at some point,” Phoenix pointed out.

“You’re not wrong,” Kristoph grumbled, side-eyeing the creature now licking the side of his hand. “Wright, what isthis?” he spat.

Phoenix beamed at him. “It’s your new dog,” he supplied unhelpfully.

Kristoph glared at the red-orange dog with floppy ears and wide dark eyes. “And what in Heaven’s name makes you think I want a dog?” he asked with a frown.

Phoenix gestured at the house around them. “You have all this extra space you’re not using, I think a dog would really liven the place up,” he explained.

Kristoph scowled. “I’ve told you repeatedly, I am not—”

“I’m worried about you,” Phoenix interrupted, looking at Kristoph with concern.

Kristoph paused, squinting at Phoenix in confusion. “You’re worried about me,” he repeated flatly.

Phoenix nodded. “I mean, as far as I can tell you just work and occasionally feed Trucy and I. You keep telling me you’re fine, but you don’t lookfine when you think no one’s looking.”

Kristoph glanced between Phoenix and the dog still in his hands, now gnawing weakly at his fingers. “So you got me a dog.”

Phoenix looked at the puppy in Kristoph’s hands, looking completely out of place in the clean house. He smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.
“It was Maya’s idea,” he supplied.

Kristoph huffed in exasperation. “I appreciate the thought, Wright, but I assure you I don’t need or want a pet.” Kristoph moved to give the dog back to Wright, who backed away.

“Hey, I can’t just take the poor thing back!” Phoenix insisted.

Kristoph rolled his eyes. “Then give it to Trucy, I’m sure she’d be thrilled.”

“We barely have enough money for us, we can’t take care of a dog,” Phoenix pointed out.

Kristoph continued to glare daggers at the other man.

Phoenix frowned. “Look, you’ve done a lot for me. I’ve seen the way Miles is around Pess and I really think this could work out. Just give it a couple days, and if you still don’t like her I’ll find someone else to take her in,” Phoenix said sadly.

Kristoph stared at the dog, mouth a thin line. “Fine,” he grumbled, bending down to set the dog on the floor.

She immediately proceeded to start teething at Kristoph’s shoes. Phoenix left quickly after that, quickly handing off a dog bed and a leash that he’d picked up with the animal. Kristoph was left to sit in his kitchen, staring absentmindedly at the dog rolling on the floor, tongue hanging out. The dog rolled into his feet, proceeding to look up at Kristoph.

“Don’t give me that look,” Kristoph grumbled, looking down.

The puppy let out a needy whine. Kristoph tilted his head, eyeing the dog suspiciously. The dog was a tawny orange, with long wispy fur. It’s only markings were a patch of white fur on its chest, the end of its nose, and its toes. The dog whimpering again, struggling to flip back over on its front.

Kristoph sighed, taking pity on the poor animal and nudging it with his foot to tip the dog over. “Do you need to go outside?” he asked.

The dog just whimpered again in response, to which Kristoph sighed, grabbing the leash Phoenix had left on his counter and hooking it on the dog’s collar. He led the dog out to his backyard, letting her sniff around to investigate its new surroundings. After the dog squatted in the grass to pee, Kristoph bent down to scratch behind her ears.

“At least you’re trained,” he grumbled, before taking the dog back inside.

When dinner rolled around, Kristoph realized he had nothing to feed the dog. Kristoph grumbled, searching his fridge for something suitable for his new roommate. Said dog just hopped up to search the fridge with him, nosing at his leg. Kristoph looked down at her.

“I was going to make spaghetti alle vongole tonight. Do you like clams?” In response the puppy’s ears perked up.

Kristoph set the pasta on the stove to cook, setting out a cheap plastic bowl for the dog. After a moment, he got another bowl and filled it with water, setting it next to the first. The puppy happily lapped from the bowl while Kristoph tended to his dinner. When it was done, he spooned some pasta onto his plate, before putting some in the dog’s bowl. Kristoph carefully stood over her and spooned out some clam meat.

Kristoph sat next to her at the counter, glancing down periodically to see the puppy happily eating up the food. Soon Kristoph found he’d shared most of his dinner with her. Kristoph knelt next to her, gently stroking the back of her neck while she ate.

“You seem to like clams a lot,” he mused. “I’m glad we have similar tastes.”

The puppy glanced up at his voice, wagging her tail so fiercely that her whole body shook. “They’re called vongole, maybe that’s what I’ll call you,” he suggested.

He earned a happy bark, and Kristoph tried unsuccessfully to hold back a smile. “I’ll get you some real food in the morning,” he promised. It didn’t occur until after he’d said it that that implied the dog was staying.

He set up a dog bed on the opposite side of his bedroom as his own bed. He showed it to Vongole, getting her to sit on it. Once she’d settled down, Kristoph turned off the lights and got into bed, slipping under the covers. Only a few minutes passed before Kristoph heard the padding of little paws on his carpet. A second later he felt his mattress shift and a wet tongue on his face.

Kristoph sat up, wiping off his face in disgust. “No, your bed is over there,” he said emphatically.

He threw the covers back, rolling out of bed while Vongole’s wide eyes followed him. Kristoph picked the puppy up, met with a loud whine as he walked her back to her bed. He set her down, glaring at her.

“Stay,” he instructed, though he knew the dog likely didn’t know the command.

Kristoph went back to his bed, barely getting under the covers before the puppy was hopping up onto his bed. Kristoph sighed, giving a wear look to the puppy unsuccessfully trying to wriggle onto his bed.

“Fine,” he sighed, getting back up and grabbing her bed, setting it on the ground next to his head as he laid down.

Now, Vongole happily laid on her bed, stretched out on her side. Kristoph tentatively threw a hand over the side of his bed, reaching down to stroke the puppy’s soft fur. Vongole huffed contentedly, nosing at Kristoph’s long fingers and licking them happily. Kristoph smiled into his pillow as he drifted to sleep.

Chapter Text

During the long California summers, when Trucy was out of school, Miles Edgeworth frequently flew the Wrights to Europe. Edgeworth claimed it was for help on a case, but everyone involved was well aware that it was just an excuse. Phoenix always came back newly shaved, and Trucy would be sprouting a new cape. When Wright was gone, Kristoph took the opportunity to catch up with an old friend.

“How’s my girl doing?” Anna asked in a high voice, kneeling down to scratch Vongole behind both of her ears.

Vongole, now two years old, wagged her tail, placing her front two paws on Anna’s knees. “Off,” Kristoph scolded.

Vongole obediently placed all four paws back on the ground, but whined her displeasure. Anna pouted, giving the dog a sympathetic pat.

“Oh, I know, sweetie. Kristoph is a real pain, isn’t he?” Anna said mournfully.

Vongole pawed at Anna’s leg, desperately wanting to jump on her again, but managing to restrain herself. “Your animals are just untrained heathens,” Kristoph replied.

Anna just hummed noncommittally before standing and making her way to Kristoph’s living room, Vongole trotting happily at her heels. She sank onto Kristoph’s couch with a pleased sigh, Vongole curling up at her feet while Kristoph watched from his entryway. Kristoph folded his arms as Anna stretched out.

“I love this couch, definitely one of your better investments,” Anna said happily. “Now turn on Judge Judy.”

Kristoph rolled his eyes as he tossed Anna the remote. Anna turned on his TV, scrolling through the channels as she rearranged Kristoph’s throw pillows. Kristoph let her take charge, sitting on the couch next to her, pulling his throw blanket from the back of the couch, draping it over himself.

“Hey, don’t be a hog,” Anna whined, grabbing at the blanket and partially pulling it to her side.

Kristoph huffed, scooting closer. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Anna curled under his blanket, watching the exaggerated court proceedings with rapt interest. Kristoph was more amused that Anna could bear to watch this trash. He supposed you could take the lawyer from the courtroom… Kristoph smiled softly to himself. Some things never change.

After one episode finished, Anna turned to him. “Tell me what’s going on in the legal world these days,” she demanded.

Kristoph’s smile turned to an amused smirk. “I thought you’d left the business,” he said.

Anna nudged him with her elbow. “That doesn’t mean I don’t want to keep up with the times. Law was my life for years!” she exclaimed.

Anna gestured at Kristoph’s walls, decorated with paintings and dark furniture. “You’re obviously doing well for yourself,” she started.

Kristoph nodded in pleased agreement. “Unfortunately I can’t say as much for the rest of the legal world,” he murmured darkly.

Anna’s face fell. “I was afraid you might say that,” she sighed.

Kristoph watched her face with sudden interest. “Have you heard something?” he asked.

Anna nodded, refusing to meet his eyes, instead staring out the large window overlooking the yard. “I’m the only lawyer in my family. After that Space Center case a couple years ago—”

“The UR-1 Incident,” Kristoph supplied.

Anna nodded. “After UR-1, my family doesn’t have a lot of faith in the system,” she admitted. “They don’t really talk about it around me, but one of my kids in college and she’s involved in a campaign against false convictions. They even have this mascot…” she trailed off in thought.

“Bum Rap Rhiny,” Kristoph finished for her.

Anna glanced at him knowingly. “Oh, you’ve heard of him?” she asked.

“Every attorney and cop has these days,” Kristoph told her. “People don’t have a lot of faith in us these days.”

Anna sighed. “I suppose you can’t really blame them. Even when I was a lawyer things were bad, wrongful convictions and the use of forged evidence was rampant,” she admitted. “I guess after seeing a famous defense attorney go down for forged evidence, and then a young prosecutor, they finally lost faith in us,” she said mournfully.

Kristoph nodded along with her. “I’m fairly certain lawyers are losing faith in themselves. Maybe that’s what happened to Wright,” he suggested.

“You’re still friends with him, right?” she asked contemplatively.

“Yes, he’s in Europe right now with one Miles Edgeworth,” Kristoph explained.

Anna smiled to herself, eyes falling to her hands. “I never imagined my apprentice would be bumping shoulders with the great Phoenix Wright.” Her eyes moved back to the window, gazing at the evening sky. “Though I suppose he’s not so great anymore.”

Kristoph was silent for a moment, following Anna’s gaze. “I like to think we still have noble intentions, in spite of what circumstance forces upon us,” he mused.

Anna’s mouth formed a mournful smile. “I’d like to believe that of Phoenix Wright. I’d hate to let a legend die out so easily.”

They paused for a moment of silence, mourning days past where justice could be won and legends walked among them. Anna was curled in on herself under Kristoph’s blanket, looking small as ever. Kristoph wondered if in all her wisdom and years of practice, if there’d ever been a time where the future seemed hopeful.

“But you’re doing well?” she asked finally, turning back to meet Kristoph’s eyes.

Kristoph bent forward to stroke Vongole at her feet, gaining the dog’s attention. “Very well. Despite what others might say, the law has been kind to me,” he said with a comforting smile.

Anna’s face broke into her motherly gaze. “I’m glad,” she sighed with relief. “Maybe it’s time to start expanding.”

Kristoph raised an eyebrow, giving Anna a suspicious look. “What does that mean?” he asked.

Anna shrugged. “When I was your age, I had partners.” Her voice tripped over the word “partners,” the memories of her old firm still stinging even after six years. “Maybe you should consider finding colleagues as well.”

Kristoph frowned at the thought, brow furrowing. “I work better on my own,” he insisted.

Anna shook her head knowingly, laughing. “An apprentice, then.”

Kristoph automatically opened his mouth to form a rebuttal, but stopped himself. “An apprentice,” he said thoughtfully.

“A bright young law student, eager to learn, someone you can mentor as you see fit,” Anna continued, eyes sparkling when Kristoph didn’t immediately reject the idea.

Kristoph gave her a knowing look. “Like you did for me?”

Anna continued to smile. “Best decision of my life,” she insisted. “Who knows? Maybe one day they’ll defend you in court.”

After Anna left, Kristoph placed job postings on local universities’ job boards. As Anna said, he was doing well for himself. After six years, maybe it was time to find coworkers again. Maybe an apprentice could make his office seem less empty.

Sun filtered in through Kristoph’s open window, the sounds of the street below floating up into his office. Kristoph had sat Alissa on his windowsill, where the sun reflected off her blooms. He was watering her when he heard frantic voices just outside his office door. That was unusual, to say the least. Kristoph set his water pail next to his flower, walking to his door, expecting to find a client on the other side. He paused with his hand on the doorknob, stopping to eavesdrop on the people on the other side.

“You’ll be fine, Apollo! Just repeat after me: I’m Apollo Justice, and I’m fine!” he heard an excited voice say from the other side.

“I-I’m Apollo Justice, and I’m fine!” another voice yelled on the other side, the force of the voice causing Kristoph to wince.

“Maybe a little quieter…”

Kristoph quietly pulled the door open to see two men facing each other. One appeared to be on the verge of passing out, face flushed red to match his vest. The other one was unsuccessfully trying to calm the first one down. Kristoph cleared his throat, catching the boys’ attention. The first man’s face immediately drained of color.

“Can I help you?” Kristoph asked flatly, keeping his amusement at the boys’ theatrics in check.

The calmer of the two gave the other a forceful pat on the back, more of a push really, and whispered “Go get ‘em!” in his ear.

Now the man dressed in red stood in front of Kristoph, practically shaking in his shoes. “Uh, I-I’m here about an interview?” he said, voice quaking as much as his body. “I’m Apollo Justice.”

Kristoph glanced at his watch. “You’re significantly early,” he noted.

That was an understatement, the boy was nearly an hour early. Apollo rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, and Kristoph could practically see nervous sweat beading on his brow.

“Well, you know what they say, the early bird gets the worm?” he offered weakly. “I can come back later if it’s a problem,” he said in a rush, practically panicking.

“It’s not a problem,” Kristoph assured, stepping back to invite Apollo into his office.

Kristoph pretended not to notice when Apollo looked over his shoulder at the other boy, who gave him a big grin and a thumbs up. Apollo puffed out his chest and stepped into the office, closing the door behind him. Kristoph gestured at the chair across from his desk.

“Have a seat,” he instructed. “Would you like anything to drink?”

Apollo sat down heavily in Kristoph’s chair, glancing around nervously as he thumbed his shoulder bag. “Uh, no, I’m fine,” he insisted.

“So I heard,” Kristoph murmured under his breath.

Kristoph pulled out his desk chair, taking a seat across from the young man. He was very obviously nervous. If Kristoph had to guess, he’d say it was the boy’s first interview. However, it was also Kristoph’s first time conducting one. He tried to project an aura of confidence, so that it would at least seem like he knew what he was doing.

Suddenly, Apollo had thrust a piece of paper into Kristoph’s face. He took it, noting that it was the boy’s resume. Kristoph glanced over it to remind himself of what made him contact Apollo for an interview. Right, this is the Space Center kid.

“Alright, Mr. Justice, was it?” he asked, earning a furtive nod from Apollo. “What a fitting name for a lawyer.” Kristoph couldn’t help but grin.

Apollo looked bashful again. “Thank you, sir.”

Kristoph tried to give the boy a comforting smile. “Tell me about yourself, where are you studying?”

Apollo settled more into the conversation. “I’m in my second year of law school at Ivy University.”

Kristoph nodded, remembering his own years in school. “Do you like your classes?”

Apollo seemed caught off guard by the questions about his personal life. “Uh, yeah. I prefer actually defending to learning out of books, but I know that’s important, too!”

Kristoph glanced down at the boy’s resume. “Yes, I see you’re on the debate team.”

Apollo nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, we went to nationals last year. I’m team captain.”

“Good to know you have public speaking skills. You’d be surprised at the number of people that pass law school without being able to speak on the stand,” Kristoph said. “It says here you volunteer at the Cosmos Space Center?”

“Yeah, I help organize tours for local orphanages. My friend Clay knows Solomon Starbuck, and the little kids always get really excited when I can introduce them,” Apollo said with fondness.

Kristoph raised his eyebrows. “Starbuck, isn’t that the HAT-1 astronaut?”

Apollo nodded with a wide smile. “Yeah, Clay wants to be an astronaut and go to space.”

“Can you tell me why you want to become a lawyer?” Kristoph asked, giving Apollo an intense look.

Apollo took a moment, reaching up to stroke his upright lock of hair in thought. “Well, I really want to defend people who need it. There are so many lawyers that play dirty and all my friends don’t have any faith in the legal system. I want to stand up for what’s right, and hopefully bring truth and justice back into the law,” he exclaimed passionately, face flushing.

Kristoph was silent for a long while. It struck him how fiercely the young man in front of him believed in his goals. In particular, the words “truth” and “justice” pulled at something long buried in Kristoph’s chest. The boy in front of him was eerily similar to a young prosecutor from Kristoph’s past.

“That is… a noble goal,” Kristoph said, voice and expression guarded.

There were other people Kristoph had yet to interview. But when Apollo Justice spoke those words, that was the moment Kristoph decided on his apprentice.

Chapter Text

Apollo reminded Kristoph of himself as a law student. When Apollo wasn’t in class, he was at the law offices. Kristoph cleared off half of his desk so that Apollo could comfortably sit beside him while they worked. Apollo was responsible for keeping Kristoph’s case files in order and handling incoming emails. Letting Apollo deal with the logistics of running an office took a lot of stress off of Kristoph, giving him more time to spend investigating cases.

Over the months as Apollo settled in, eventually Kristoph forgot how to find his files at all. He came to rely completely on Apollo, the only one who understood his own filing system. It had been months since Kristoph had been in his own filing room, but he had complete confidence that the room was impeccable. With Apollo’s help, Kristoph found himself with extra time he didn’t know what to do with.

Kristoph drummed his fingers on his desk, his most recent case wrapped up. Apollo was next to him, bent over a law book as Kristoph himself had years ago.

“Did you already file the Gardener case?” Kristoph asked flatly.

Apollo immediately looked up from his textbook. “Yes, Mr. Gavin. And I watered your flower and cleaned behind your bookshelf—”

Kristoph held up a hand to stop the overeager attorney. “Then it seems we have nothing to do at the moment,” Kristoph noted.

Apollo bit his lower lip nervously. “Is that a problem, Mr. Gavin?”

Kristoph shook his head. “No, I suppose it isn’t.” He pushed his chair back from his desk and stood. “Would you like to go out for lunch, then?” he asked, already making his way to the door.

Apollo’s mouth hung open in surprise for a moment, before he quickly scrambled after his boss. “Yes, of course, sir!”

Kristoph took him to the same Italian place around the corner that Anna used to take him to. The hostess recognized him and sat them at the same table near the window that had been Anna’s favorite. Kristoph sat on the side that had formerly been hers. Somehow the entire place seemed different from a place of power. Apollo was sitting across from him nervously, hands in his laps as his eyes shifted about the room.

When their food arrived, the silence between them became less awkward. “Is working at the office what you expected?” Kristoph asked.

Apollo looked up with a start. “It’s more paperwork than I expected,” Apollo admitted sheepishly.

One side of Kristoph’s mouth twisted up in a smirk. “It certainly is,” he agreed. “What would you think about being co-counsel on my next case?” Kristoph asked.

Apollo’s fork fell to the ground with a metallic clatter. His mouth was hanging open, lips struggling to form words that wouldn’t come.

Kristoph flagged down the nearest waiter. “Excuse me, my colleague needs a new fork,” he said politely, Apollo blushing in embarrassment.

Apollo finally regained his senses. “M-Mr. Gavin…! I’d be honored,” he gasped.

Kristoph covered his mouth to hide his amused smirk. “Then you’ll be coming with my on my next investigation.”

Apollo beamed at him, still sprouting a pleased blush across his nose. “Thank you,” he said earnestly.

Kristoph dropped his hand from his face, returning to his lunch. “You have to learn somehow, what better way than to show you myself?” he pointed out.

Apollo nodded, unable to dim his smile through the rest of their meal. As promised, Kristoph took Apollo with him for the next case that came to his desk. It was a thievery case, a rich heiress had some of her priceless artwork was stolen. Their client was the heiress’s maid, being the only one with access to the house keys.

Kristoph was thankful that Apollo’s first case wasn’t going to be a murder. Dealing with something bloody and messy on your first time out of the office could change a young attorney’s career for the worst.

Kristoph took Apollo to the woman’s house, where they surveyed the scene of the crime. Apollo proved to be a good investigator, with sharp eyes. However, he didn’t have much luck talking to the lead detective, much to Apollo’s ire. Kristoph had more experience, and so knew how to get the detective to hand over his information. With Kristoph’s expertise, the two walked away with the crime scene photos and the results of a forensic analysis.

“I didn’t know it was so hard to get detectives to talk,” Apollo said afterward, voice heavy with disappointment.

Kristoph just smiled. “You’ll learn, in time. They don’t like to share information with the opposing team,” he explained.

Apollo frowned. “That’s a really narrow way to look at things, isn’t it?” He pouted. “I thought being a lawyer was about finding the truth…” he trailed off in confusion.

Kristoph smiled wistfully. “If only all lawyers thought as you did,” he murmured.

The next day, Kristoph led Apollo into a busy courthouse. Apollo trailed behind him, taking in the crowds of people and the defense bench worn from years of use. His expression was one of muted awe, like a child in front of their idol.

“It’s just like the old court videos,” Apollo said under his breath.

Kristoph raised an eyebrow at that. “You watched old court recordings?” he asked with amusement.

Apollo flushed, thinking that Kristoph hadn’t heard his statement. “Um, yeah. I watched old trials to teach myself how to debate,” he admitted, scratching at the back of his neck.

Kristoph nodded. Apparently that was something all young lawyers did nowadays. Or the company Kristoph kept had very singular interests.

“Did you have any favorite attorneys?” Kristoph asked, biding the time until the trial started.

Apollo shifted on his feet, somehow managing to look even more uneasy. “Um, I really liked watching Phoenix Wright’s old trials,” he said, adjusting his tie anxiously.

Apparently Kristoph had a type. “I see. A shame what happened to him,” he said idly.

The conversation ended there, the judge calling to start the trial. Kristoph was thankful for his assistant, who kept his evidence in order as Kristoph had for his mentors long ago. Kristoph proceeded with the cross-examination as normal. The defense’s stance on the case was that the heiress herself had orchestrated the art theft in order to get the insurance claims. Kristoph himself wasn’t fully convinced of his own theory. But he had confidence in his ability to defend his client, and in the evidence to back him up.

Everything was going smoothly until the prosecution called the defendant to the stand. As Kristoph prepared to point out a contradiction, Apollo flinched beside him, rubbing his wrist.

Kristoph opened his mouth to object, and came to an abrupt halt when Apollo tugged at his sleeve. “Wait, Mr. Gavin,” he hissed.

Kristoph peered down at him with a furrowed brow, annoyed at the interruption. Apollo gulped nervously under Kristoph’s intense gaze, but forced himself to keep speaking.

“They’re lying,” Apollo said, fingers still fisted in Kristoph’s sleeve.

Kristoph’s eyes narrowed in a glare. “That’s called a contradiction,” he said snidely.

“No, I mean she’s lying about not doing it,” Apollo insisted.

Kristoph frowned, glancing between the woman on the stand and his assistant. “How could you possibly know that?” he asked.

Apollo hesitated. “I just… I don’t know, I have this feeling,” he said vaguely.

“You stopped me in the middle of a trial because you have a feeling,” Kristoph said flatly.

Apollo shuddered under Kristoph’s gaze. “I can’t explain it, I just know they’re lying,” he insisted. “We couldn’t find enough evidence yesterday, are you sure they’re not responsible?” he asked.

Kristoph pursed his lips, searching Apollo’s wide, pleading eyes. Apollo’s keen eye had aided their investigation yesterday. Over the months that they’d worked together, Kristoph had learned that Apollo was skilled at reading facial expressions. If this hadn’t been Kristoph’s client, he would have been inclined to believe their guilt based on the evidence. But the same could be said for many cases that Kristoph had won.

“This is our client, Apollo. We’re to defend them,” Kristoph reminded his apprentice.

Apollo flinched. “But, Mr. Gavin, what’s the point of defending a client who’s guilty?” he asked weakly, practically wilting.

Kristoph turned back to the defendant on the stand. “I’ll… keep that in mind,” he murmured.

Apollo’s plea rang in Kristoph’s head as he continued with the cross-examination. When the opportunity arose for Kristoph to present the evidence he’d prepared, Kristoph shuffled his evidence and stood down. Apollo followed Kristoph out of the courthouse, holding the case file close to his chest.

“Mr. Gavin, thank you for listening to me,” he said once they had returned to the office.

Kristoph watched Apollo blankly, his strong morals and burning passion reminding Kristoph of himself as a young attorney. Hadn’t Kristoph entered law school with the intention of protecting the needy, defending those that couldn’t defend themselves? He was no longer that person. But here was Apollo, who still believed truth had a place in the courtroom.

“You’re welcome. You have good instincts, Justice,” Kristoph acknowledged. “You have noble goals and I can respect that.”

Apollo shifted nervously in his chair. “You mean, not everyone does?” he asked nervously.

Kristoph shook his head. “I’m afraid not. I’m sure you’ve heard it’s ‘The Dark Age of the Law?’” he reminded Apollo.

Apollo dipped his head, eyes downcast. “Right,” he murmured dejectedly.

“Regardless, you did well today,” Kristoph complimented, and Apollo flushed once again. “You can consider this a personal victory, even if it’s not a tangible one.”

Apollo glowed under his mentor’s rare praise.

Phoenix took to working multiple shifts at the Borscht Bowl Club to pay the bills. As such, Kristoph began meeting him there for their weekly dinners. It was the first time that Kristoph had the “pleasure” of listening to Wright’s piano playing. Kristoph entered the restaurant, immediately being greeted with a horrible rendition of “Brown Eyed Girl.” Kristoph winced, taking a table near the piano and making sure to catch Wright’s eye.

When his shift ended, Phoenix took a seat at Kristoph’s table, slumping over in his chair. “Evening,” he said, setting his bottle of grape juice on the table.

Kristoph eyed the piano. “They pay you for that?” Kristoph asked with disgust.

Phoenix laughed. “Not a whole lot of people play piano these days,” he said with a shrug.

“I’m fairly certain a nonhuman could play piano more proficiently than that,” Kristoph said.

Phoenix took a sip from his bottle. “Piano playing is just one of my many talents,” he said vaguely.

Kristoph raised an eyebrow. “Like art? Wouldn’t that be a more lucrative career, considering you’re actually skilled at it?” Kristoph asked bluntly.

“They’re not just paying me to play piano, you know,” Phoenix said with a secretive smile, indicating he knew something Kristoph didn’t.

“They pay you to entertain guests?” Kristoph suggested.

Phoenix just smirked. “Something like that.”

Phoenix’s assertion made Kristoph’s hair stand on end. It sounded strangely similar to a statement another piano player had made, right before firing him.“When I was a kid my first job was playing piano at a dive bar, but where I made my real money was pickpocketing.” It could have been a strange coincidence. But it also might have been a hint at something infinitely worse for Kristoph.

“I hear you have an apprentice,” Phoenix said, interrupting Kristoph’s thoughts.

Kristoph nodded, taking note of the obvious change in subject. “Yes, he’s a bright young kid. Apollo Justice.”

Phoenix nearly spit out his drink. “Justice?” he asked incredulously. “That sounds like a stage name.”

Kristoph smirked. “You’re one to talk, Phoenix Wright.”

“Please, that doesn’t sound nearly as ridiculous as Apollo Justice. Who the hell named him?” Phoenix asked.

Kristoph shrugged. “As far as I know he was raised in an orphanage, so some eccentric Matron, possibly,” Kristoph suggested.

“That’s unfortunate,” Phoenix said, voice taking on a sad tone.

Phoenix’s eyes drifted from Kristoph’s face, instead focusing on some spot on the wall over Kristoph’s shoulder. Kristoph imagined that the mention of an orphan caused his thoughts to drift to Trucy. Though the two had grown into their fire-forged relationship, Kristoph imagined the loss of what they should have had still stung.

“You’ll have to introduce us sometime,” Phoenix suggested.

Kristoph hummed noncommittally. “Maybe I will,” he mused.

Chapter Text

When Phoenix asked to bring a friend to their next dinner, Kristoph naturally had no objections. Suffice to say, when he showed up to the Borscht Bowl Club, he hadn’t been expecting to see Miles Edgeworth sitting at their table. Kristoph halted abruptly, taking in the scene before him. Edgeworth was wearing his signature magenta suit, half-frame glasses high on his nose. He looked supremely out of place in a seedy bar like this, next to Wright who wore his usual sweats.

Kristoph approached slowly, eyeing the prosecutor warily. He wasn’t sure what to expect. All he was sure of was that Edgeworth’s presence didn’t bode well for him or his plans. What did Phoenix hope to gain by inviting him? He knew of Kristoph’s distaste for Edgeworth. Was Wright trying to unsettle him?

Kristoph kept his expression schooled as he took his seat. “Wright,” he greeted. “I didn’t expect to see you here, Edgeworth.”

Edgeworth turned his full attention to Kristoph, giving him that stony, prosecutor’s gaze. “Yes, Wright was kind enough to extend a last minute invitation.” He gave Phoenix a sidelong glance.

Kristoph imagined that the invitation was more forceful that Edgeworth would have him believe. “I’m Kristoph Gavin, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” he said politely, extending his hand.

Edgeworth took his hand briefly. “Likewise,” he droned with thinly veiled disdain.

Edgeworth very clearly didn’t want to be here, and was doing little to hide it. A flare of white hot anger burned behind Kristoph’s eyes. He fisted his hands in his lap, keeping up his polite mask.

“This is the guy who told me about Klavier Gavin’s crush on you, remember?” Phoenix said teasingly, unable to contain his shit-eating grin.

The words hit Edgeworth right in the gut, and his eyes went wide, clearly stricken at the suggestion that someone had a crush on him. “For the last time, I would appreciate it if you didn’t bring that up,” he said sternly, pushing his glasses up to hide his flustered expression.

Phoenix continued to smile brazenly. Over the years he’d learned how to push Edgeworth’s buttons and get away with it. It made Edgeworth regret becoming friends with the man in the first place.

Edgeworth cleared his throat. “You’re Klavier Gavin’s brother?” he asked with vague interest.

The corner of Kristoph’s mouth twitched. “Yes, Kristoph,” he said, repeating his name in the hopes that this time it would stick.

“For a time I wondered if Prosecutor Gavin set Wright up in the Gramarye trial,” Edgeworth admitted. “Taking down Phoenix Wright in his first trial provided him with a significant boost to his career.”

Kristoph sat straighter, intrigued. “I wouldn’t know. We’re not very close,” Kristoph said.

“I know,” Edgeworth said, a slight smugness to his voice. “I performed a thorough investigation on him after the trial. My best detectives watched his every move.”

Phoenix snorted beside him. “I wouldn’t call Gumshoe a ‘best’ anything,” he muttered.

Edgeworth shot daggers at Phoenix, who took the hint and promptly shut up. “After months of investigating, I determined that Prosecutor Gavin is just very good at his job,” he finished, gaze focused on Kristoph’s face.

Kristoph sat back in his chair slightly, meeting Edgeworth’s gaze. “Glad to hear it,” he bit out.

“I’m still looking into his case. But I have to say, your brother is brilliant in court,” Edgeworth said, voice full of admiration. “And he became a prosecutor at seventeen!”

“That’s even younger than you were, Edgeworth,” Phoenix chimed in happily. “And people called you a prodigy.”

Kristoph’s blood boiled, his nails dug into his palms as he tried not to lose his composure. “With all due respect, Wright was disbarred over six years ago. How can you be certain there’s anything left to investigate?” he asked, once again trying to steer the conversation away from his brother.

The smug look on Edgeworth’s face made Kristoph’s eyes burn. “Wright and I once solved a fifteen year old murder. A simple forgery is practically child’s play,” he said nonchalantly.

Phoenix looked up pensively. “If memory serves me correctly, I did most of the solving on that one,” he teased.

Edgeworth shot him his patented “shut up, Wright” glare.

Kristoph pushed up his glasses. “If this case is so simple, why hasn’t it been solved yet?” he asked, keeping his voice as emotionless as possible.

Edgeworth crossed his arms, giving Kristoph an appraising look. Kristoph kept his face blank, not wanting to give Edgeworth any emotions to read. He didn’t appreciate having his mind dissected.

“We’re just waiting for a snake in the grass to show themselves,” Edgeworth said cryptically.

Kristoph unclenched his hands, knuckles sore from being tense for so long. Kristoph returned Edgeworth’s cold, analytic gaze with a polite smile and tilt of his head. He wasn’t oblivious to the suspicion in Edgeworth’s voice. But Kristoph had covered his tracks, and he had his claws firmly in Wright’s back.

“Best of luck, then,” Kristoph said with fake cheer.

There was a pregnant pause at their table, the chatter of other bar patrons and clink of dishes barely cutting through. The tension in the air was tangible. Phoenix and Edgeworth looked to each other, holding an entire conversation with their eyes. Kristoph would have sacrificed a number of things to know what they were saying.

Edgeworth stood. “Unfortunately, I’m not here on vacation. I have important business to attend to.” He turned to Phoenix. “It was nice dining with you.”

With that he left, coattails fanning dramatically behind him. “He barely touched his borscht,” Kristoph noted drily.

Phoenix laughed. “More for Trucy and I, then!”

Kristoph remained tense, even as Phoenix slid into his easygoing demeanor. “Sorry about him,” he said lightly. “He has trust issues.”

Kristoph raised his eyebrows at Phoenix. “That’s putting it mildly.” He let himself relax, falling easily back into his and Phoenix’s usual conversation.

Apollo had been in the filing room for most of the day, sorting through and marking that year’s case files. He had a growing stack of old files next to him to show Kristoph, cases that were years old and no longer needed to clutter up the office. Apollo brought the latest stack out to him, arms bursting with folders. He set them down on the end of Kristoph’s desk with a heavy thud. Kristoph nodded to acknowledge him, expecting Apollo to return back to his cave.

When Apollo stayed, shifting nervously on his feet, Kristoph looked up at him with a questioning look. “Do you need something, Mr. Justice?” he asked.

Apollo started at being addressed. “Oh, um, I was just thinking,” he said vaguely, waving as if to brush away the topic.

Kristoph sighed in exasperation, leaning back to give Apollo his full attention. “What were you thinking?” he asked pointedly. Kristoph had never appreciated being brushed off.

Apollo shrugged. “I was just wondering why there’s a desk in the filing room. It’s really hard to move around in there, it’d be a much better use of space if we moved it out,” he suggested timidly.

Kristoph looked away, mood darkening. “It’s a long story,” he said simply. “I’m not moving the desk.”

Apollo stared at Kristoph, touching a hand to his forehead thoughtfully. “Did it used to be someone’s office?” he guessed.

Kristoph sighed. Of course an apprentice of his wouldn’t just let sleeping dogs lie. “I can’t hide anything from you, can I?”

Apollo rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, it wasn’t a huge leap in logic,” he said modestly. “So why do you still keep the desk in there?” he asked.

Kristoph’s eyes instinctively drifted to his desk drawer, where he’d kept Al’s pictures stored. Years later they were still there, collecting dust. Shortly after she’d died, he’d pull them out regularly, to remind himself where he’d come from. It had been a long time since he’d done that, and it occurred to him that he couldn’t remember her face.

“An old friend used to use it,” Kristoph said, eyes never leaving the drawer.

Apollo watched his mentor, eyes following his gaze to his drawer. The lawyer in him said to open it, find out whatever secrets Kristoph was keeping. But out of respect, he remained still. It would be infinitely better to just ask.

“Does it have anything to do with why the storage room is always locked?” Apollo ventured.

Kristoph smiled wistfully at Apollo. “I’m glad to know I’ve trained you well. Though I don’t appreciate being on the receiving end,” he said wryly.

Apollo fidgeted under Kristoph’s gaze. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want. I’m just curious.”

Kristoph waved his hand dismissively. “It’s alright. It was a long time ago.”

Apollo took that as permission to keep going. “So what happened?” he pressed.

Kristoph let out a heavy sigh. Ghosts still plagued him, even after eight years, it seemed. Their echoes still sounded on his walls, keeping him in the past. Walking into the office was like stepping into an old memory.

“It’s a long story,” Kristoph murmured, reaching into his desk and searching.

Eventually he found the picture he was looking for, the one of him and his three mentors. He stared at it for a moment, burning the image of Al’s and Scott’s faces into his memory. Then Kristoph handed the picture to Apollo with care. Apollo held it like it was crystal, staring at it with reverence.

“I had three mentors. Anna, Scott, and Al,” Kristoph began, pointing at each figure in the picture. “This was Anna’s desk.” He gestured to the desk they currently sat at. “The filing room was Al’s, and the storage room was Scott’s.”

Apollo stared at them in the photo, their smiles and bright eyes. Ghosts calling to him from years ago. His hands trembled.

“What happened?” he asked again.

“Al was murdered,” Kristoph said bluntly. He gestured where Apollo was standing. “Right there.”

Apollo practically leapt out of his skin, jumping to the opposite side of the desk. “You’re kidding!”

Kristoph huffed, giving Apollo a dry look. “I wish I was.”

Apollo glanced back at the picture. “And Scott?” he asked tentatively.

Kristoph’s eyes filled with a longing Apollo couldn’t remember seeing. “He went to jail for her murder.”

Apollo’s mouth formed a silent “O.” “And you never did anything with their offices?”

Kristoph shook his head. “There was nothing I needed to do with them,” he insisted.

Apollo was quiet for a moment, eyes continuing to roam over the photo in his hands. “I never took you for the sentimental type, Mr. Gavin,” he said.

Kristoph huffed. “Call it what you want. They taught me how to be an attorney.”

Apollo handed the photo back to Kristoph, who carefully slipped it back into his drawer. “You didn’t say what happened to Anna.”

Kristoph managed a smile at that. “She left me the office and lives a happy life with her family,” he assured Apollo.

Apollo’s demeanor brightened. “At least there’s a little bit of a happy ending.”

When Kristoph looked at Apollo, his eyes were filled with an emotion Apollo couldn’t identify. It was wise and melancholic and secretive all at once.

“It’s not the end quite yet, Mr. Justice.” Kristoph reminded him.

Apollo fell silent, watching Kristoph’s face. “Do you still see her, at least?” he asked finally.

Kristoph nodded. “Yes. She’s coming to my place for dinner on Christmas Eve if I’m not mistaken.”

Apollo’s eyes glazed over. “Wow, that sounds like fun, Mr. Gavin,” he said cheerfully. However, Kristoph wasn’t oblivious to the tinge of longing in his words.

“Yes, if you recall I was raised in Germany. Christmas was one of the better things about living there,” Kristoph recalled wistfully.

He could remember waiting until the early hours of the morning to hide chocolate in Klavier’s shoes, and then watching with amusement as the boy stuffed his face. On Christmas Eve, they would decorate the tree together. Klavier always insisted on being the one to put the star on top of the tree, despite being unable to reach even on his tiptoes. Kristoph always had to hoist the boy up, and then afterwards they would admire their work together.

Apollo nodded. “We never really had time for that stuff at the orphanage,” Apollo admitted. “They’d bring in a Santa Claus for the little kids, but there was never enough money to have a real Christmas dinner.”

That explained Apollo’s sadness, then. Kristoph paused for a moment, the gears in his head turning as he eyed Apollo.

Finally, he nodded to himself before speaking. “You’re welcome to join us,” Kristoph offered.

Apollo’s eyes went wide. “Oh, no, you don’t have to do that,” he assured his boss quickly. “I’ll be fine.”

He was babbling nervously. He probably thought Kristoph was taking pity on him.

“Mr. Justice,” Kristoph cut in, causing Apollo to abruptly stop his rambling. “I insist.”

Apollo scratched the top of his head, looking at Kristoph nervously. “Alright. Can I bring a friend?” he asked timidly.

That was how Kristoph found himself entertaining three people for Christmas Eve dinner. He was used to having Anna over, and sometimes she brought her family. This year Anna was alone, her wife decided to spend Christmas Eve with her friends. Kristoph set up an artificial tree in the corner of his living room. On the stove, spiced wine simmered next to a roasting duck.

Bells tinkled in an easy rhythm as Vongole loped through the kitchen. She had bells on her collar, and they rang with every step she took. She rushed past Kristoph to the front door, pawing at the glass as someone rolled into the driveway.

That must be Anna, Kristoph thought, leaving the cinnamon scented kitchen to get the door. As soon as Kristoph opened the door, Vongole wormed her body through. Vongole ran out to greet Anna with a happy bark. Anna yelped, holding the plate of food she’d brought out of Vongole’s reach. Anna laughed easily as she walked to the door, Vongole circling her the whole way.

When Anna made it to Kristoph, she passed off the food she’d brought. “Someone’s excited to see me,” she laughed, dropping her hand for Vongole to lick her fingers.

“She knows you have a gift for her,” Kristoph said, setting the dish by the rest of the food cooking in the kitchen.

Anna reached into her bag, grabbing a red and white striped rawhide bone. “Of course I have a gift for my best girl,” she cooed, gently handing the treat off to Vongole.

Vongole happily took her new toy and trotted past Kristoph to her favorite spot under the coffee table, tail held high. Kristoph watched her go before shaking his head at how spoiled his dog was. He took the wine off the stove, fishing out the cloves at the bottom with a spoon. When Anna returned from greeting Vongole, Kristoph had transferred the drink to a pitcher.

She inhaled the scent of the kitchen slowly. “Is that your famous spiced wine?” she asked hopefully, peering into the pitcher in his hands.

Kristoph wordlessly poured her a mug, handing it to her. “Take a drink and see.”

Anna cupped her hands around the warm mug, taking a long sniff before sipping. She hummed happily. “Cinnamon sticks,” she demanded.

Kristoph gestured at the cabinet behind him as he returned to preparing the duck. Anna had been in his kitchen enough to know where he kept his spices. She reached into his cupboard, grabbing at the jar of cinnamon sticks on the bottom shelf.

“You’re wearing the sweater I bought you,” she noted with pleasure, plopping a stick in her drink.

Kristoph nodded, glad that his efforts hadn’t gone unnoticed. “It seemed fitting.”

Anna laughed heartily. “You’re just a huge sap under that cold exterior aren’t you?” she teased.

Kristoph let that comment go, instead changing the subject. “There are two more people coming tonight.”

Anna set her drink on his counter, looking at him with wide eyes and folded arms. Kristoph was thankful that he had the duck to focus on, not wanting to be under his mentor’s gaze.

“Friends of yours?” Anna guessed, her words ringing with delight.

Kristoph didn’t need to look at her to know she was smirking. “My apprentice and his friend,” he answered.

“I’m going to get to meet the Apollo Justice that I’ve heard so much about?” she asked with muted excitement.

“Yes. And I’ve talked you up to him, so try not to let me down,” Kristoph instructed.

Anna hid her smirk with her mug. “You just don’t want me to embarrass you in front of a rookie,” she chuckled. “Oh, the stories I could share…”

Kristoph sent her a sharp glare. “Please don’t. I have a reputation to maintain,” he huffed.

It seemed Apollo had impeccable timing, as he picked that moment to ring the doorbell. “That must be him,” Anna chirped, already heading towards the door.

“Anna!” Kristoph called sharply.

“Keep an eye on that duck!” she replied, ignoring Kristoph otherwise.

Kristoph grumbled to himself, sure that his mentor was going to irreparably color Apollo’s perception of him. Obediently he removed the duck from the stove, letting it cool before dinner. He heard Apollo timid voice, met with Anna’s much happier one. He couldn’t make out what they were saying, and that was one small miracle.

Anna led Apollo into the kitchen, flanked by his friend. “Mr. Gavin,” Apollo said with a start.

Kristoph turned to him, seeing the shock on his face. He imagined it was a surprise to see Kristoph out of his work clothes, hair in a loose ponytail and not gelled to perfection. Apollo was seeing Kristoph as a human being for the first time, sweating over the stove like anyone on Christmas Eve.

“Good evening, Mr. Justice,” Kristoph said with a polite nod.

Hearing his voice, Apollo seemed to relax, turning to his friend. “Mr. Gavin, this is my friend Clay Terran,” he introduced, letting the two share a quick handshake. “He works at the Cosmos Space Center.” His voice glowed with muted pride.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Terran,” Kristoph said with a polite smile.

He was met with a bright, unrestrained grin. “Nice to meet you, too! Apollo says great things about you!” he said excitedly.

Apollo looked away, scratching his head in embarrassment. Anna decided to take pity on him, and led the two to the dining room to set the table while Kristoph finished preparing the food. It was only a few minutes before Kristoph brought out the spread, setting it before his three companions before taking his own seat at the head of the table. Vongole sat obediently at his feet, gnawing her bone and waiting for scraps.

Apollo kept glancing curiously below the table. “I didn’t know you had a dog,” he said, reaching out to pet her.

“Careful,” Kristoph warned, a second too late as Vongole snapped at Apollo’s hand. “She doesn’t like to be touched while she’s eating.”

Apollo pulled back his wounded hand, holding it tenderly. “Ouch,” he whined.

Clay nudged him. “Buck up, dude, you’re fine,” he insisted good-naturedly.

After assessing that his fingers weren’t broken, Apollo went back to eating. Clay gave the warm liquid in the pitcher a cautious sniff, before shrugging and pouring himself a glass. He took a small sip, followed by a much larger one.

“Wow, what is this stuff?” he asked excitedly.

Kristoph watched the animated young man with amusement. “It’s spiced wine and brandy. Be careful, it has a kick to it,” he warned.

Clay seemed to ignore his warning and continued drinking with fervor. “Apollo you have to try this,” he insisted in what he thought was a whisper. In actuality Kristoph and Anna could hear him clearly. Apollo, being a good sport, allowed Clay to pour him a glass and took a sip. His entire body shuddered once it hit him.

“Oh my god, that’s…” He stopped, glancing at Kristoph. “Really good?”

Kristoph and Anna broke into laughter. “It’s fine, Mr. Justice. I can get you some regular wine, or water if you’d prefer,” Kristoph said.

Apollo nodded. “Water would be nice,” he croaked.

As Kristoph got up to pour Apollo a glass of water, Clay just shrugged and added Apollo’s wine to his. Halfway through dinner, Kristoph and Anna were pleasantly buzzed, while Clay was on the verge of drunk. Apollo was the only sober person left at the table.

Clay glanced at his watched. “Hey, Mr. Gavin, do you mind if I use your TV? The HAT-1 Miracle is on ABC,” he said.

Kristoph gave him the go ahead, earning a wide grin from Clay. Clay uneasily staggered to his feet, slowly walking in the opposite direction of Kristoph’s living room.

Apollo sighed, pushing back from the table. “I’m going to go make sure he doesn’t get lost.”

He followed Clay out of the room. A minute later they passed through the kitchen again on their way to find the TV. Clay gave them a happy wave, which Anna returned with an easy laugh. As they heard the TV turn on in the other room, Anna and Kristoph sat back, full and sated.

“You always have the best Christmas dinners,” Anna sighed happily.

Kristoph smiled. “What can I say? Europeans do it best.”

Anna laughed. “You know I’ve never met an astronaut before,” she mused. “Over two decades as a lawyer and I never ran across an astronaut.”

Kristoph looked up thoughtfully. “Are you an astronaut if you haven’t been to space?” he pondered.

Anna shrugged. “Do you want to watch The HAT-1 Miracle?” she asked.

“I don’t see a reason not to,” Kristoph replied, standing up.

The two walked into Kristoph’s living room to see Clay collapsed on the arm of Kristoph’s couch. The only thing keeping him in a half sitting position was the mountain of pillows under him. Apollo sat beside him with arms crossed, clearly annoyed as the opening credits played across the screen.

“You’ve seen this movie like, twenty times, how can you possibly still enjoy it?” Apollo grumbled.

“Space,” Clay murmured in response.

Apollo rolled his eyes. “I’m aware.”

“I wanna go to space!” Clay said, louder this time, with the added punctuation of grabbing Apollo’s arm.

Apollo shook him off in annoyance. Anna chuckled as she sat next to the two, Kristoph on her other side.

“Well, I haven’t seen this movie twenty times. Maybe the astronaut can tell me everything he knows,” Anna suggested.

Apollo nearly slapped himself in the face. “Please, no.”

Clay shot up, newly awakened. “Well most of the equipment used in this movie are exact functioning replicas of equipment used during HAT-1,” he rambled.

Apollo got up, having heard this speech twenty times. “Mr. Gavin, why isn’t your tree decorated?” he asked, gesturing to the bare pine in the corner.

Kristoph’s boxes of decorations were off to the side, open and ready to be used. “In Germany we didn’t decorate our tree until Christmas Eve,” he explained. “Decorating it with the family was a tradition.”

Apollo eyed the boxes of wood ornaments and garlands with envy. “Then… should we decorate it?” Apollo suggested timidly.

Kristoph chuckled, the wine making him more receptive. “If you’d like.”

Apollo eagerly tore into the boxes of decorations, picking out a long, leafy garland to wrap around the tree. Kristoph walked over to help, holding the loose end while Apollo walked around the tree. He let Apollo take the lead, as Kristoph had done this enough times for it to be monotonous. From Apollo’s excitement, he had a suspicion that this was the first tree Apollo had decorated.

While Clay and Anna watched a space movie, Clay talking unerringly about the scientific details, Kristoph and Apollo decorated the tree. Apollo took great care in placing ornaments, handing ones to Kristoph when he wanted to place them in the top branches. As Apollo wrapped a string of lights around the tree, Kristoph fingered a small yellow bulb.

“In Germany we would put lit candles on the tree,” he said.

Apollo stopped his decorating, lights strung around his arms, and stared at Kristoph with a gaping mouth. “You’re kidding.”

Kristoph shook his head. “You can google it, if you have to,” he insisted.

“Isn’t that a fire hazard?” Apollo shrieked, only to be met with a laugh from Kristoph.

“It certainly is. But as beautiful as it is deadly.”

Klavier loved to watch the candles flicker. The smell stood out against the pine tree scent, carrying it throughout the house. If you sat close to the tree, you could feel the warmth of the candles on your cheeks.

If Kristoph closed his eyes, he was there again.

But this tree didn’t smell of pine, and the lights on this tree didn’t burn when touched. Kristoph watched Apollo, elated and flushed nonetheless. There was some form of happiness to be found here. Even as ghosts echoed around him, closing in.

Apollo returned to the couch with Clay and Anna to catch the end of the movie. Kristoph stayed back, slowly lowering himself into a chair in the light of the tree. Anna sat between Clay and Apollo, both boys had flushed faces. Clay was still talking passionately, hands waving wildly. Anna listened with amusement, while Apollo rolled his eyes at her side. Vongole laid at their feet, rolling over to have her belly rubbed.

Looking at them, Kristoph saw echoes of his old lives. He saw himself and Klavier. At the same time, he saw Anna, Scott, and Al. People that never made it here. All the years that Kristoph had lived, all the people he’d met, and this is what he was left with. He found that it wasn’t as hollow as he’d expected. The shadows of people he’d lost still left clear holes. Klavier could have been strumming on his guitar in the corner, Scott and Al could have been finishing off the wine. But he had Anna, Vongole and Apollo, who each filled holes Kristoph hadn’t known had been there.

Kristoph watched them, and wondered if this is what rebuilding felt like.

Kristoph had to suffer through another horrible rendition of Wright’s piano playing as he waited for the man to finish his last song before his break. His borscht was growing cold. Wright finally left the piano bench and sat across from him.

“You’ve finally decided to join me?” Kristoph asked wryly.

Wright shrugged. “I can’t help it. Requests are just pouring in tonight,” he said with a shrug.

Kristoph glanced around the bar. “Wright, there’s no one here,” he pointed out.

Wright just laughed, taking a sip of his ever present grape juice. “I hear you’ve trained your first lawyer,” he said, effectively changing the subject.

Kristoph smiled genuinely. “I suppose I have. Mr. Justice just passed the bar recently.” He felt an inkling of pride as he said the words.

Phoenix raised his bottle as if to toast. “Congratulations to him,” he said.

Kristoph picked up his own glass to meet Wright’s bottle. “To a long and illustrious career,” he said.

Phoenix nodded in agreement. “May he not turn out like me.” He brought his bottle back to his lips, slumping down in his chair.

Kristoph hummed thoughtfully. “There are likely worse things than being the underground poker champion of LA.”

Phoenix set his bottle down on the table, eyeing Kristoph suspiciously. “How’d you know about that?” he asked.

Kristoph just smiled with fake sweetness. “I have my ways,” he answered cryptically.

In reality, it had just required slipping some money to one of the more easygoing waitresses. She’d been more than willing to spill about their underground room and its secret passages. But telling Phoenix that would ruin the fun.

“I do hope you’re not gambling. That would be illegal,” Kristoph reminded him, with a teasing air.

Wright held up his hands. “Depends on if the bills are due.” He pointed at Kristoph with the neck of his bottle. “You didn’t hear that,” he said sternly.

“Hear what?” Kristoph shot back.

Phoenix chuckled at that, and Kristoph couldn’t help but join in. When Kristoph left that night, he was reminded of the great attorney that Wright used to be. He couldn’t look at Phoenix without seeing the ghost of what he could (should) have been. It had been years since Wright had last stood in court, but the worn down pianist still echoed the man that had once defended the weak.

Yes, Kristoph walked in the shadows of ghosts.

Even so, he had the decency to be surprised when a ghost walked by, like a ship passing in the night.

This ghost wore different clothes, but had the same presence that Kristoph could never forget. He swept by Kristoph, unknowing, and left Kristoph standing numbly in darkness outside. It couldn’t be, Kristoph thought, fists clenched and sweat beading on his brow. Zak Gramarye?

Chapter Text

For a long time, Kristoph stood still as stone under the lamplight of the Borscht Bowl Club. He’d played his cards carefully, kept his eyes open. He’d spent years waiting for Zak Gramarye to reappear, and he’d monitored Wright’s every move to ensure that they never crossed paths. There had been no word of Zak Gramarye for seven long years. Kristoph had plans, and backup plans for nearly every scenario he could think of upon Zak’s reappearance. None of them involved the man he’d nearly presumed dead walking right past him.

Kristoph was numb, running through all of the scenarios he’d thought up in the blink of an eye. All the plans he’d thought up to protect himself, and everything he’d built over the last seven years: useless. He had so much in his hands; a law firm, an apprentice, respect, and admiration. Upon seeing Zak’s face again, all of it teetered on the verge of ruin.

Kristoph had no doubt that Zak was going to talk to Wright. Working together, Kristoph knew they could bring him down. Zak held all the final pieces of the puzzle that Wright was missing, enough to reveal Kristoph’s crimes.

Kristoph couldn’t let that happen.

But how? Mentally he cursed himself. How had Zak’s presence in LA slipped past him? If only he’d had more time, he could prepare. If he had time, Kristoph could silence Zak in a way that was clean, and most importantly untraceable. But time was the one thing Kristoph no longer had. He would have to act quickly. That would involve getting his hands dirty.

Kristoph peered back into the restaurant. There was no sign of Wright or Zak. Kristoph thanked the powers that be, as that meant the two were in the underground poker room. That room was discreet and hidden. More useful to Kristoph at the moment was the fact that it had numerous secret entryways. Kristoph mentally thanked the waitress that had revealed them to him, and made sure no one was watching as he grabbed one of Wright’s empty juice bottles and slipped into a dark hallway.

It was cramped and dark, its only purpose as a hidden passage. Comfort and aesthetics were not taken into account in its design. Kristoph had to grit his teeth and bare through as the passage threatened to choke him. He didn’t have time for petty complaints. Kristoph could hear voices growing louder as he neared the end. He slowed down, taking great care to move silently as he listened. It was unmistakably Wright and Zak. Kristoph paused to try and decipher what they were saying.

Of course, Kristoph thought wryly. They’re playing poker.

The passageway was too dark to see now, so Kristoph moved with his hands in front of him. The path ended abruptly, blocked by a wood plank. This was the cupboard Kristoph had been told about. He need only push it aside and strike. Kristoph tightened his grip on the neck of the bottle in his hands.

He stood, crouched behind that cupboard as two people played poker, unaware of what was waiting behind a mere foot of wood. Kristoph’s legs cramped, his body covered in a sheen of sweat. They hadn’t designed the secret passage with ventilation in mind. But he didn’t dare move a muscle, waiting for his opportunity to strike.

It came with the sound of an argument in the other room. Three escalated voices sounded, the sound of a struggle, and then finally a body crumpling to the floor. Kristoph clearly heard when Wright announced he was calling the police, and then his quick footsteps fading away.

This was it.

Kristoph held the bottle firmly in his sweaty hands as he pushed the cupboard aside. Light burned his eyes as it poured into the dark tunnel, but all Kristoph needed to see was Zak. He turned his chair at the sound.

Kristoph raised the bottle high above his head.

Zak barely had time to register shock as the bottle came down.

When the bottle connected with Zak’s head with an unholy crack, it felt like vindication.

Kristoph was eighteen. He lived in Germany, with his mother and younger brother. He lived in fear and resentment of his only parent, and was inferior to a child half his age. Kristoph stayed late at school and the library to avoid his mother. He studied for entrance exams she wouldn’t allow him to take. Kristoph was trapped in his mother’s house, in this German town, in this life he’d never asked to live.

Kristoph was eighteen, a child who had earned more than he’d been given.

The sky was already dark, cloaking Kristoph as he entered his house. He flinched, waiting for his mother’s harsh voice. When nothing came, he relaxed and stepped inside. He found her on the couch, unconscious with a half empty bottle of vodka at her fingertips. Kristoph used to turn his nose up in disgust, clean up her mess, and throw a blanket over her. Now, it was too often an occurrence for him to bother.

Kristoph stood on the other side of the room and watched her. She was slumped on the cushions, dead to the world as her chest slowly rose and fell. When she was asleep was the only time Kristoph could stand her. Something dark stirred within him.

Kristoph was eighteen, and his cheek was still bruised from where his mother had hit him. He had no future, she had stolen it from him and given it to Klavier. Kristoph needed to steal it back.

Kristoph’s legs moved without his consent. They carried him to his mother’s bedroom. He stood in the center, gazing at her posters of Troupe Gramarye through eyes that weren’t his own. They hid the wallpaper, stacked on top of each other like blankets. Kristoph’s hands moved without him knowing why. He tore them down, casting each aside as he moved to the next. He bared walls that hadn’t seen the light of day for years. Their empty husks littered the floor, like spiders with their legs curled in on their upturned bellies.

Barren walls sent him off as he bundled the posters into a bouquet. He pressed them to his chest, his legs moving without knowing where they were going. His body moved throughout the house, a one-man funeral march, ending in front of his mother’s sleeping body. His arms opened, the papers dropping to the floor like raindrops. He spread them out in front of her like an offering, three faces staring up at him with secretive smiles, repeated over and over again.

He didn’t understand what he was doing until he held the lit match in his hand. The heat radiated on his hand, his entire being focused in on that one point, the lone flame that would burn away his past. Everything he’d been up to that point would burn to ash. The match dropped.

It started with a slow burn, the posters lighting and curling around the magicians’ smiling faces as they blackened, then crumpled as ashes. Kristoph watched the orange flame, mesmerized as it flickered and crawled forward. It was slow, spreading across the kindling, then the floor, and then the couch. The flame reached for his mother’s sleeping body with long fingers. Kristoph realized she was drunk enough that she wouldn’t wake up.

The blaze roared on, spreading across the floor with exponential speed. The more it consumed, the faster it became. It was scorching, hot enough to bring tears to Kristoph’s eyes. He stepped away, brought out of his trance and realizing that any smart person would have left by now. Flames crawled up his mother’s body as smoke filled the room.

Kristoph coughed on smoke, then gagged on the smell of charred flesh and burning hair. He knelt down, unable to keep himself from retching. He vomited right there on the floor. He knelt on the floor, tears dripping from his nose and bile leaking from the corner of his mouth.

Smoke was filling his lungs, and he began to crawl towards the door. The time he’d spent watching the fire spread had cost him. Now smoke filled the bottom floor of the house, the heat rising rapidly. Kristoph shuffled to the front door, heaving it open with an enormous grunt. Once the cool night air hit his inflamed skin, he sighed with relief, collapsing on the front steps. In the moment of respite, one crystal clear image cut through the haze in his mind.

Klavier. He would be upstairs, sleeping.

Until the end of days, Kristoph would deny the next thought that crossed his mind. All he felt for the briefest moment was pure, spiteful, resentment. Kristoph’s limbs fell limp, and he was at peace with letting his brother burn away.

As soon as the thought occurred to him, an icy chill ran through his veins. This was Klavier, and Klavier was his brother. Kristoph didn’t know what that meant to him, but it was enough reason to go back. Klavier was the one thing from this life that Kristoph would protect.

The fact that he would consider leaving Klavier frightened him to his core. That wasn’t who Kristoph was. He was terrified that he might one day become that person.

He went back into the burning house, racing the inferno to reach his brother. He saved his brother that night, only to lose him years later, and then lose himself soon after.

Chapter Text

Kristoph cleaned up the scene, swapping a bloodstained card for another, and swapping the murder weapon with another bottle from Wright’s collection. Then, Kristoph left the scene the way he’d entered. By the time his phone rang with a call from Wright, he was long gone. As Wright requested his services, Kristoph smiled with smug satisfaction. With Kristoph acting as Wright’s lawyer, everything was sure to go smoothly. Everything at the crime scene was set for Wright to take the fall. All Kristoph had to do was make a decent showing in court, and no one would ever suspect Kristoph of his crimes.

It was a pity that a friend of seven years would have to go down for his crime, (though it wouldn’t be the first time). But Kristoph had sacrificed more. Hopefully with this loose end tied up, it would be the last thing Kristoph needed to lose.

As Phoenix predicted, he was taken into custody for the murder of “Shadi Smith.” The day before the trial, Kristoph took Apollo to the detention center to get Wright’s statement. Apollo was going to be his co-counsel as usual. It would be his first time in court after getting his badge. Apollo was eager to watch Kristoph as an attorney, and learn by example.

“Who’s your client, Mr. Gavin?” he asked as they waited for Wright to be brought to the holding cell.

Kristoph drummed his fingers on his evidence file. “A friend of mine. He’s been accused of murder,” he answered vaguely.

Apollo seemed satisfied with that answer, looking straight ahead into the empty cell. He had his hands folded in front of him, a pen and legal pad laid out in order for him to copy down the defendant’s words. He jolted when the door swung open, a police officer pushing Phoenix Wright into the cell. Wright was far to calm for someone accused of murder, though Kristoph supposed this wasn’t Phoenix’s first time.

Phoenix took a seat across from Kristoph, leaning back in his chair nonchalantly as he looked around. “I like what they’ve done with the place,” he remarked. He turned around in his seat to give the police officer at the door a thumbs up. “Good job, Frank! It’s been awhile,” he called with an easygoing grin.

Apollo looked horrified at the implication that this wasn’t the first time their client had been arrested. Kristoph cleared his throat, regaining Phoenix’s attention. Phoenix turned back around, taking in Apollo’s stricken face. He laughed at the confused rookie.

“Don’t worry, they’ve never been able to convict me,” he assured.

Kristoph pushed his glasses up. “Not for murder, at least,” he clarified.

None of that helped to assuage Apollo’s concerns, and he continued to stare at Phoenix with mild horror. “So this is your apprentice?’ Phoenix asked. “I’ve been dying to meet you,” he laughed.

Kristoph huffed at Phoenix’s complete lack of tact. “Yes, this is Apollo Justice,” he confirmed. “I wish you’d met properly under better circumstances. Now, if you would please give me your statement so that I can defend you,” he said with a clipped tone.

Phoenix nodded, looking away in thought. “Well, I didn’t do it.”

Kristoph waited for Phoenix to continue. When he slumped further in his seat with a self-satisfied grin, Kristoph realized he wouldn’t be that lucky. He pinched the bridge of his nose with a long suffering sigh. He was already irked at how relaxed Phoenix appeared to be. The fact that he was avoiding questions and being intentionally thick (at least Kristoph hoped it was intentional) only served to annoy him more.

“At least that’s a start,” Kristoph said drily. “But it’d be helpful if you told me your version of the events.”

Phoenix nodded in understanding, but instead of paying attention to Kristoph, his eyes were focused solely on Apollo. Said attorney fidgeted awkwardly under Wright’s gaze. Wright’s eyes flicked downward, to Apollo’s hands on the table.

“You probably don’t remember but we met once,” Phoenix said, eyes sharp and sparkling with a determination that made Kristoph’s spine shiver.

Apollo blinked. “Uh, we did?” he asked, confused.

To be honest, Kristoph was just as surprised. He hadn’t ever introduced the two.

Phoenix nodded. “It was a few months ago, you were studying for the bar. I showed up and Kristoph was out investigating.” He paused, a slight smirk ghosting over his lips. “You kicked me out because you thought I was loitering.”

Apollo made a choked squawk like a chicken, hair wilting. Kristoph sent him a glare and Apollo had the decency to look physically pained.

“Sir, I, I didn’t realize you were Mr. Gavin’s friend!” he squeaked, clenching the legal pad in his hand. “I am so, so sorry!”

Kristoph tore his eyes away from Apollo when he heard Phoenix’s deep chortle. Phoenix’s eyes crinkled and he had deep laugh lines as he turned to Kristoph. Kristoph could practically see the gears turning in Wright’s brain.

“I’ve decided I want Apollo to be my lawyer,” he said simply, and Kristoph’s train of thought came to a grinding halt.

Both Kristoph and Apollo stared at Phoenix with confusion. Apollo’s mouth hung open and Kristoph’s eyes were narrowed in disbelief. Neither knew how to react to Phoenix’s strange behavior. After a long silence, Kristoph cleared his throat and pushed his glasses up his nose.

He hid the grimace on his mouth with his hand. “With all due respect, I would highly advise against that,” Kristoph said. “No offence, Mr. Justice.”

Apollo shook himself out of his stupor. “None taken, sir!” he chirped.

Phoenix eyed Apollo with amusement (not something someone on trial for murder should be feeling, Kristoph thought). “The kid’s gotta get his feet wet sometime. What better opportunity for a rookie who just got his badge?” Wright insisted.

The conversation lulled again, as Kristoph just stared at Phoenix trying to make sense of what the man was doing. “Your aim is noble, but as your friend I would suggest you trust the seasoned attorney with years of experience,” Kristoph stated firmly.

Phoenix just continued to smile. “And as your friend, I trust any pupil of yours. Besides, you’ll be right next to him. It’s like the perfect murder trial fell right into Apollo’s lap!” he said cheerfully.

Kristoph didn’t have a response to that. His logic was sound, though Kristoph wondered where his common sense had gone. What am I thinking? Wright never had any common sense in the first place.

“I suppose,” he agreed reluctantly.

Phoenix looked to Apollo again. “So, what do you say?”

Apollo had fallen back on looking at Phoenix in abject horror. “Uh, well, I…” he stuttered. “If it’s okay with Mr. Gavin, then I’d be honored!” he said sheepishly. “I won’t let you down!” he promised.

That was the exact moment when Kristoph’s carefully constructed plan began to collapse on itself.

The day of the trial came, and Kristoph stood calmly beside Apollo, as his own mentor had once done for him. His straight figure and calm voice stood in sharp contrast to Apollo, who, for lack of better words, was a nervous wreck. Everything was going smoothly, Kristoph remained unconcerned about the verdict. Apollo was sharp enough, that perhaps Olga could take the fall and Wright wouldn’t have to go to jail. Kristoph felt a quick moment of pride watching Apollo; he had trained him well.

It was when the subject of the swapped cards arose, and Apollo had the gall to claim that there was a fourth person at the scene that Kristoph considered that he might have trained the boy too well. Kristoph’s eyes flickered to Wright, to find the former defense attorney staring him down with intensity. Everything clicked into place, then, and Kristoph realized what would happen. He clenched his fists, taking a deep breath. He’d covered his tracks. There was no way for Wright to prove his crime.

He clung to that thought even as Apollo put him on the witness stand. Until the very moment Apollo presented a piece of evidence that had no right to exist. It was the swapped card, just as it had looked before Kristoph burned it in his backyard.

Kristoph could feel everything he’d worked for over the past nine years slipping through his fingers like dust.

Kristoph’s eyes locked with Wright again, and Wright smirked victoriously. Kristoph knew the evidence was forged, but there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it. To call out Wright would be to admit hit own guilt.

So his own protégé sent him to prison with forged evidence. The irony was not lost on Kristoph.

 
They placed him in Solitary Cell 13. It was barren and dreary when he first arrived, still wearing his suit from court. He sank down on his bed, eyeing his new home with disdain. Already, he was formulating plans, thinking of favors he could call in, strings he could pull to decorate the place to his liking. Surely they allowed some comforts to people in prison for life?

His first visitor arrived two days after his trial. Kristoph had managed to have some clothes delivered to him. He looked as clean and proper as ever, completely out of place in a prison cell. He heard his visitor before he saw him.

“Do you think I care if it’s not visiting hours?” yelled a brash voice from down the hall. “I am a prosecutor for the district, I can visit whoever I want!”

Kristoph let out an exasperated sigh, slamming his book closed. Quick, clipped footsteps approaching his cell signaled that the person had gotten their way. A police officer slid his cell door open and Klavier Gavin strode in like he owned the place.

Kristoph forced a polite smile. “Klavier. What a surprise.”

Klavier quickly pulled the lone chair in the cell over to sit across from Kristoph on his bed. Kristoph took the moment to assess Klavier. It was… unsettling how much his brother had changed in seven years. Rather, it was unsettling how much the man had grown to look just like himself. Klavier had grown his hair out, and it was styled just like Kristoph’s. His acne had cleared and his features had matured. Looking at Klavier now was like looking in a mirror of Kristoph as a young man. The only difference was their clothes. Klavier had embraced his rockstar persona, and wore chains and a gaudy necklace featuring his band’s symbol.

Just as Kristoph took in Klavier, Klavier did the same to him. Klavier shook his head.

“Scheiße, Kristoph, you should have called me!” he yelled. “I’m a prosecutor, you should have called me the moment you got it trouble,” he repeated, tangling a hand in his hair.

Kristoph just watched him, letting Klavier continue speaking as if Kristoph wasn’t there.

“I know we haven’t talked in years, but Scheiße, I’m your brother! You can always call on me when you’re in trouble,” Klavier said regretfully.

Kristoph had begun to tune out, glancing off to the side. Klavier snapped his fingers, regaining his brother’s attention. He reached out, putting his hands on Kristoph’s shoulder. Kristoph flinched at the contact, which went unnoticed by Klavier.

“Hey, bro, we’ll fix this,” he promised. “We’ll hire a real defense attorney, not like that fraud Herr Wright.” Klavier spat the name like it was poison in his mouth.

His hands clenched around Kristoph’s shoulders, to the point of being painful. “I can’t believe Herr Judge believed anything that man had to say. He’s a known forger! That will be enough to get any verdict appealed.”

Klavier stood, beginning to pace about the cell. The mention of Phoenix Wright had caused his face to turn red, his hands shaking with fury.

“I can’t believe that bastard! The nerve! First he tries to ruin me, then goes after my brother!” Klavier growled.

He shook, like a volcano about to explode. He erupted, slamming his fist against the cement wall of the cell. Kristoph noted that his knuckles came away scraped and bleeding.

“That arschloch, I knew you shouldn’t be friends with him!” Klavier yelled. “That doppelzüngig bastard!”

Klavier collapsed back down on the chair, still red-faced and fuming. Kristoph stared blankly at him, waiting for a sign that his brother was finished with his tirade. When Klavier’s breathing slowed and his eyes refocused on Kristoph, he cleared his throat.

“You have yet to ask me if I did it,” Kristoph said.

Klavier blinked in confusion. That was obviously not the first thing he expected to hear out of his brother’s mouth. “What?”

Kristoph sneered at his brother. “For a prosecutor so concerned with finding ‘the truth’ and seeking ‘justice,’ shouldn’t your first concern be your client’s innocence?” he spat mockingly.

Klavier continued to stare into Kristoph’s eyes, searching. “Kristoph, you’re my brother. I don’t need to ask. I know you’re innocent.”

Kristoph laughed wryly. “Do you now? Is such investigative insight how you solve all your cases?”

Klavier glared at him. “Kristoph, I know we haven’t talked in years, but don’t toy with me—”

“I did it,” Kristoph interrupted.

Klavier’s voice cut off abruptly, and he simply stared at Kristoph.

Kristoph, pleased at finally having an upper hand on his brother, continued. “I killed him. Exactly as Wright claims I did. I snuck in and murdered the poor man with a bottle. Then I tried to frame it on Wright.” Kristoph’s tone was flat and dry, as if he were talking about the weather. Not murdering a man in cold blood.

“Shut up!” Klavier shouted, shooting out of his seat.

He turned away from Kristoph, running a hand through his hair and taking a deep breath. He turned back, not daring to sit down again.

“This is a joke,” he said adamantly. “You’re lying. You haven’t seen me in years and you want to punish me for it.”

Kristoph smiled politely. “I’m afraid that’s not the case.”

“Stop!” Klavier demanded. “Just stop talking.” His voice lost its force, until he was almost pleading.

“Why, brother? It’s the truth,” Kristoph said simply. “I thought the truth was what you spent your life seeking.”

Klavier covered his mouth, muffling the pained noise that threatened to escape. The looked of utter betrayal Klavier leveled him with was almost worth spending life in prison. It may not have been how he wanted, but Kristoph had finally bested Klavier, even if it was a Pyrrhic victory. Klavier dropped his hand from his face, chest rattling as he fought to continue talking.

“Why?” he asked weakly.

Kristoph pondered that question, looking upwards thoughtfully. “I’m not sure. Why does anyone commit murder?”

Klavier looked as if he wanted to punch Kristoph instead of the wall. “Scheiße, Kristoph! I don’t understand, what happened to you?”

Kristoph stared at Klavier coolly. “Nothing happened to me, Klavier. I’m the same as I’ve always been,” he insisted.

“Nein!” Klavier yelled. “You can’t be. The Kristoph I knew would never—”

“Are you sure about that?” Kristoph asked coldly, one eyebrow raised.

Klavier stared down at his brother, face contorted in pain. His fists shook and sweat ran down his face. Kristoph could tell that he wanted to ask so badly. But he stayed silent, because he feared the answer. The silence wore on, both brothers staring at the other. Kristoph was calm as ever, eyes tinged with amusement. Klavier simply hurt, and his eyes shone with it. Klavier’s chest burned and his ribs felt too small for the torrent of emotions inside, at any moment they could crack open and the betrayal and fear inside him would spill out onto the floor. Klavier couldn’t take anymore.

He broke their stare, unclenching his hands and holding them up as he stormed out of the cell.

A week later, Kristoph had furnished his cell to his liking and it nearly felt like a home. A guard rapped on the bars of his cell.

“Package,” he said dismissively, walking in and placing it on his desk.

Kristoph nodded. As soon as the guard was out of sight, he went to the package. He frowned, noting that it had been resealed. He supposed a prisoner had no right to privacy. He opened the box carefully, finding an instrument case inside. He stared at it, perplexed. Kristoph was not a musician. Curious, he opened the latch on the case, seeing a Cremona violin inside.
Laying on top of it was a small purple card. The side facing him simply read “To Kristoph”. He picked up the card and turned it over.

To keep boredom at bay during lonely days. Might as well pick up a hobby, ja?

-K

P.S. I didn’t know you had a dog. Don’t worry, I’m taking care of her.

Kristoph stared at the card, unsure what he was feeling. Even so, he placed the violin in the center of his shelf, placing the card next to it. It looked nice on his shelf. Maybe one day Kristoph would find some sheet music and try playing it.

Chapter Text

Prison was suffocating. Even surrounded by material comforts, he didn’t have enough to keep him occupied as the days passed. Time passed, though Kristoph would be hard-pressed to tell how much. From his cell, his only connection to the outside world was the small, barred window near the ceiling. It was too high to see out of, it’s only purpose was seemingly to let light in. Kristoph could guess the time of day by the light level. But some days were cloudy, and other days Kristoph slept through.

Guards came to Kristoph’s cell, to take him to meals, to take him to the yard. Kristoph had enough power to wave them away when he chose. Despite never leaving his one hundred square footage cell, his energy constantly felt drained. He was thankful for small miracles, like having his own cell. He was free to read or sleep whenever he wished. Unfortunately those were the only things he could readily do in prison. He found that he set his book aside for a moment and loose himself in thought. By the time he looked back, hours had passed; Kristoph had no idea where they had gone.

Kristoph was not suited to life in prison. He preferred to avoid the other inmates as much as possible. They were too harsh and vulgar, people that Kristoph never would have aligned with had he not been thrown into close quarters with them all. He might have been a criminal, but he wasn’t that kind of criminal.

Time passed, and Kristoph was oblivious to it.

Alone in his cell, it came to be that receiving visitors was the most exciting part of Kristoph’s day (week, month? Kristoph didn’t get visitors often). Anna came to see him once, soon after he’d been imprisoned. She sat across from him with hands folded, mouth a thin line. She stared at him with narrowed eyes as she tried to piece together something coherent to say. Kristoph could see in her clenched fists that she was furious, angrier than he’d ever seen her.

They sat in thick silence for a long time, until Anna asked the one question burning her from inside out. “Why?”

Kristoph looked away. That was a question he couldn’t answer. The answer was too long and complex, one that took a lifetime of cultivation inside Kristoph’s own head. Kristoph knew there was a reason, but he couldn’t pinpoint it himself. His silence consumed him, and eventually Anna left with a disgusted frown. She didn’t come back.

Klavier didn’t return either after that first visit. Kristoph suspected he was too busy with his career and his band to set aside time to visit his brother in prison. Especially since there was no guarantee that Kristoph even wanted to see him. Instead, Klavier sent letters. They were sporadic, sometimes posted from different European cities, and they varied wildly in length. The longer ones tended to show the uncoordinated scrawl of a drunken man. Sometimes pictures would fall out when Kristoph opened them. Pictures of Vongole, mixed with promotional photos for Klavier’s tours. Klavier was doing his best to keep his brother updated, clinging on to whatever connection he could.

Kristoph read the letters in their entirety, before neatly folding them and placing them in a stack on his bookshelf. He swapped out older photos of Vongole for newer ones in the frame on his nightstand, and carefully tucked the photos of Klavier in a drawer. He appreciated his brother’s efforts, but not enough to write back. He’s not sure if he could if he wanted to, maybe that was why Klavier kept bouncing from city to city, to hide a valid return address. Maybe Klavier didn’t want to hear what Kristoph had to say after their last meeting, and instead he provided support from afar. If Kristoph really needed to contact him, he could easily send a letter to the Prosecutor’s Office.

Kristoph’s only “regular” visitor was a shock to him as well as everyone else. “Phoenix Wright is here to see you,” said the guard.

Kristoph eyed the guard suspiciously, wondering if this was some sort of prank. “Let him in,” he said warily. Best to get this over with.

The guard left, returning with Phoenix Wright in tow. Phoenix stepped into the cell, eyeing Kristoph’s accommodations with intrigue. He sat down heavily on Kristoph’s bed, to Kristoph’s annoyance. But he allowed it, as it was the only available seating since Kristoph was in his chair.

“Wright,” he said sharply, sizing up the other man.

He looked the same as he always had over the past seven years. Somehow Kristoph had expected Phoenix to look different after putting him in prison. He’d expected him to look more refined, happier maybe. Instead he just looked as worn and slovenly as always.

Phoenix smiled unreservedly. “How are you, Kristoph?” he asked.

Kristoph huffed in annoyance, looking away. “Is that what you’ve come to do? Laugh at me?” he asked bitterly.

Phoenix’s smile faded into a deep frown. “I’m not laughing at you,” he promised.

Kristoph laughed darkly. “But why else would you come to see me after locking me in this hellhole? Tell me, are you enjoying it?” he challenged.

Phoenix just watched him, effectively staring through his affected annoyance. “I’m here because we’re supposed to have dinner, remember?” he asked.

Kristoph looked at him blankly before narrowing his eyes. “You can’t possibly be suggesting we continue our weekly dinners in prison,” he said flatly.

Phoenix just shrugged. “Why not?”

Kristoph spluttered in confusion. “Because it’s prison. And what possible reason could you have to visit me? I’m a murderer, if you recall.”

Phoenix eyed him thoughtfully. “Do you have anything better to do in here? I can leave,” he offered, though it came out more like a challenge.

Phoenix made motions to leave. Kristoph tried to think back, when was the last time he’d talked to someone? Not just in passing, but a time he’d actually sat down and had a real conversation. It felt like years, but Kristoph knew he hadn’t been in prison that long. At most it had been a few weeks, but he couldn’t even be sure of that.

“Wait,” Kristoph bit out. “You can stay,” he grumbled reluctantly.

Phoenix sat down, looking triumphant. “Do you think they deliver pizza to prison?” he asked.

Kristoph sighed. “Do whatever you want,” he said in defeat.

To Phoenix’s delight, pizza was an appropriate prison food as long as it passed through security. Phoenix didn’t make a habit of ordering shivs inside his pizza, so he was able to get it into Kristoph’s cell with relative ease. Kristoph savored his food.

He hummed contentedly. “I do believe this is the best meal I’ve ever had,” he admitted, licking his lips.

Phoenix laughed. “Prison food not doing it for you?” he asked through a mouthful of food.

Kristoph glared at him with distaste. “The less said about the food here the better,” he grumbled.

Phoenix looked at him with amused pity. “Apollo’s not too happy with me,” he said conversationally.

Kristoph’s mouth twitched into an amused smirk. “It’s almost as if you led him to working himself out of a job,” Kristoph said wryly.

“All in the name of Justice,” Phoenix shot back, earning a groan from his companion. “I’m thinking about hiring him,” he shared.

Kristoph eyed him with disbelief. “Hire him for what? You’re not a lawyer, if you recall.”

Phoenix pursed his lips. “Mostly I feel bad that I basically caused the kid to lose his job.”

“You should feel bad,” Kristoph grumbled, earning a look from Phoenix that suggested he wanted to throw his food at Kristoph’s face.

“I wouldn’t have had to if you hadn’t committed murder, so be quiet,” he shot back.

A silence fell over them at the reminder of why they were in this situation at all. As much as Phoenix seemed ready to pretend that nothing had changed, it was impossible to avoid. Every bitter word exchanged, and the guard looming at the entrance to Kristoph’s cell served as a constant reminder that clock couldn’t just be rewound on their “friendship.”

Kristoph folded his hands on the table, staring at them. “Why are you here, Wright?” he asked simply. “Are you still investigating me?”

Phoenix was quiet for a long time. “Maybe,” he admitted.

Kristoph clenched his fists. “What more could you possibly hope to get out of me? You uncovered my crime,” he spat.

Phoenix just watched him patiently. “Like I said, I’ll go whenever you ask,” he reminded.

Kristoph nodded, noting that Phoenix avoided the question. “I think I’m tired of your presence,” he said, motioning for the guard to escort Phoenix out.

Phoenix stood, collecting the remnants of their meal. “So, next week, same time?” he suggested, looking down at Kristoph.

Kristoph watched him, and the determination with which he carried himself. Kristoph knew if he had any instinct of self-preservation, he should chase Wright out and never let him come back. But his thoughts drifted to the tiny window in his cell, only letting light in and nothing else, and the stack of letters in his drawer with unreliable return addresses. Wright’s visit had been the highlight of his time in prison, his only connection to the world outside his cell. He couldn’t give that up so easily.

Kristoph nodded in agreement, and Phoenix left, pleased with himself. So Phoenix kept visiting, and Kristoph allowed him to visit. It was through Phoenix that Kristoph learned of Apollo’s “employment” with the “Wright Anything Agency,” and then of Apollo’s apparent rivalry with his brother. It was an interesting turn of events, to say the least.

Kristoph wondered what Klavier was doing, purposefully taking on two cases that Apollo was involved in (and Kristoph knew it was purposeful, because Klavier could have any cases he wanted but he specifically chose those two). Was he trying to defeat Apollo in court and make an even bigger failure out of Kristoph’s work than had already been done? Was it some misguided attempt to defend Kristoph?

Phoenix would have him believe that it was none of those things. Phoenix himself wasn’t sure why Klavier had set his sights on Apollo, of all people. His best guess what that Klavier was trying to learn as much about Kristoph’s imprisonment as possible, and what better way to do that than talk to the attorney responsible? It was a working theory.

The months wore on like that. Phoenix took his time trying to pull information from Kristoph, not knowing when, or if, it would be useful. Kristoph allowed him to. The prospect of life in prison without visitors, without Phoenix’s visits, was too dreadful for Kristoph to put himself first. In a way, he was preserving himself, just in a different manner than he was used to.

Kristoph thought that his life would continue this way for months, maybe even years. Until he received a yellow envelope in the mail, roughly six months after entering prison. It wasn’t the envelope itself that was notable, but the stamp that drew Kristoph’s attention. He felt a broiling sensation in his stomach as the realization sunk in. The bomb that he’d planted over seven years ago had finally detonated. In another part of town, there was a dead man, a death that was seven years overdue. He tried to think back; had he covered his tracks? His first instinct said that, yes, he had. There was no way anyone could trace the crime back to him. There was only one person who would be able to connect the threads, and even then there was no evidence.

When Phoenix Wright came to his cell in the midst of the Misham trial, Kristoph knew what he was there for. Kristoph bore his questions with tense shoulders and a tight smile. Phoenix Wright could search all he liked, Kristoph was confident that he would find nothing to make his case. The only thing that could implicate Kristoph was the letter on his desk, and even that wasn’t enough to convict him of murder.

It was during that visit that Phoenix finally asked the question that had been burning between them for six months.

“Why did you kill Shadi Smith? No… Zak Gramarye!?” Phoenix finally pleaded with Kristoph for an answer, calling on their seven years of friendship.

Kristoph remained silent, shielding his face while Phoenix stared at him in a mixture of shock and horror.

…

There was a memory. It was buried deep within him, a memory he himself had forgotten. It was innocuous and useless at the time, and it quickly became buried under the lies and treachery that happened in years since. When Kristoph was young, before Klavier was born, Kristoph would play in his mother’s room. He wanted to see what was in the boxes on top of mother’s dresser. He was too short to reach, so he resorted to shaking the dresser until they fell off. Eventually they all came clattering down.

The boxes sprang open, their contents scattering carelessly over the floor. It was mostly shoes, ones that his mother saved for special occasions. But what caught Kristoph’s eye was the flash of red peeking out of a hat box. Kristoph opened the box excitedly, taking out the hat inside.

It was a bright red silk top hat, the kind a magician would use. Young Kristoph turned it over in his hands, admiring the beautiful fabric. I was soft and smooth under his fingers, without a doubt the nicest article of clothing the boy had ever touched. It was probably the most expensive, too. Kristoph tried it on briefly, and it sunk down over his eyes, much too large for a child.

Something small fell out of the hat's inner lining, thumping softly on the carpeted floor. When Kristoph looked down, he spied a small, silver locket by his foot. With greedy hands, he grabbed it, watching with bright eyes as tarnished silver caught the light. The locket fell open in his hands, the hinge loose from years of wear. A small photo nested inside, the size of Kristoph's thumbprint. He recognized his mother immediately, the shape of her face that he saw every time he looked in the mirror. The man beside her though, arms wrapped tightly around her shoulders, was someone he only knew from his mother's posters.

At that moment, his mother rushed into her bedroom, having come running when she heard the crash in her bedroom. She stopped, hunched over her pregnant belly as she caught her breath. When she recovered, she turned her eyes to Kristoph, standing in the middle of boxes strewn across her floor. Kristoph glanced at her, hat low over his brow, locket held carefully in his hands.

“What’s this, mum?” he questioned.

His mother gingerly stepped over the mess, plucking the hat off his head and the locket from his grasp. Concern flashed in her eyes as she looked it over for damage, hands light as they smoothed over silk and silver. It was clear that both the hat and locket were precious to her. When she had determined that both in as perfect condition as it always had been, she looked down at Kristoph.

“It was a gift from a friend,” she replied, her eyes flicking to a framed poster on the wall. One of her hands instinctively ghosted over the crest of her heavy belly. “And you need to be more careful around mommy’s things. Look at the mess you’ve made!” she said with exasperation.

Kristoph looked at his feet shamefully, cheeks heating up. “I’m sorry, mum,” he mumbled.

His mother sighed, running one hand through Kristoph’s hair. “It’s alright. Just help me put these boxes back together. I can’t exactly bend down to get them,” she instructed lightly, motioning to her large stomach.

Kristoph nodded, happy to be useful. He bent down to get the hat box first. He handed it to his mother, who placed it inside with great care. That was the last time Kristoph saw the red hat, but its box remained on top of his mother’s dresser for years. Kristoph saw it sitting there, as it always had, the day he burned her house down.

All the pieces were before him. Kristoph was a smart enough man to put them together. Somewhere deep within him, he already had. In a hidden corner of his mind, he knew what his mother’s trips, the top hat, his father’s disappearance, and his brother’s parentage meant. It all pointed to one thing, and Zak Gramarye was the final piece of the puzzle. There was no tangible evidence, but he knew. The moment he met with Zak seven years ago, it had all fallen into place. Just being in Zak’s presence had made Kristoph’s hair stand on end, and had triggered the jealousy and resentment that Kristoph held only for Klavier.

Kristoph and Klavier may have gotten their looks from their mother, but in some undeniable ways, Klavier took after his father.

It was a truth that Kristoph refused to acknowledge. It would mean accepting that his mother’s abuse was petty revenge for being his father’s child. It meant recognizing that the moment Klavier had come into being, Kristoph’s life had been cursed. Kristoph would have to recognize that all the lies and betrayal that colored his life had started with Klavier. Worst of all, Kristoph would have to admit that the blood flowing in his and Klavier’s veins was not one and the same.

Klavier was his brother. Klavier was his brother. That was the one thread that Kristoph hung on to. He had practically raised Klavier. He’d tried so hard to hold onto that, even as Klavier moved on through his life. Even as jealousy, and resentment warped the bond they shared, Kristoph had clung to it and lost. Klavier had left regardless. Kristoph didn’t want to lose him to his bloodline as well, to people that had never been present throughout Klavier’s life. Regardless or Kristoph’s other feelings towards him, Klavier was his brother, no one else's.

Phoenix managed to put him on the stand for the Misham trial. Apollo and Klavier stood on opposite sides of the courtroom, picking him apart piece by piece. Kristoph watched Apollo as he tore down his testimony. Apollo had grown. In only six months he was a stronger man, a better attorney, than he had been under Kristoph. Kristoph could still see shades of his own teaching in the boy.

Next was Klavier, directly across from his own student. Klavier was his mirror image in every way, and he looked the same he had during his visit six months ago. If anything he was more tired. He was a man now, and he’d stopped growing every time Kristoph turned his back. And yet he was still a stranger to Kristoph, he was no longer and never would be the boy in Kristoph’s memory.

Kristoph had crafted his own noose. All it took was a nudge from Phoenix to leave him hanging.

Everything he’d ever been disintegrated, as his student and his brother rose above him. Klavier and Apollo worked in tandem, in this court of Phoenix’s design, with the sole purpose of seeing Kristoph punished. And it was beautiful, very nearly perfect. These two people that Kristoph had taught, both in different ways, using his teachings so perfectly. It was tinged with bitterness at the realization that both had outgrown him, that they no longer needed him the way he’d wanted them to.

When the gavel rang down, Kristoph was filled with a poisonous mixture of pride and resentment. It all bubbled to the surface as laughter.

Chapter Text

They weren’t quite sure what to do with Kristoph at first. After all, what do you do with a man already serving life in prison? The only thing they could do was place him on death row and try to accelerate his sentence. But even in prison death came slowly. Kristoph would have many more years to look forward to before facing execution. Overall, nothing much changed. Kristoph remained in prison, in his small cell. The days were still long and empty, ticking by slowly. The only changes were increased restrictions and the looming threat of death some day in the future. It sapped the energy out of him.

It wasn’t until a month after the Misham trial that they allowed him visitors. His first was Anna. They took him to a holding cell in shackles, not trusting him to be alone with guests in his cell. The guard sat him down in a chair across from Anna, chaining him to the table before stepping back. He managed to shoot a weary glare towards the guard. It seemed excessive, considering Kristoph was hardly a violent criminal. But what did he know? He was a murderer after all.

Anna’s face was stern as she watched him through the glass, otherwise unreadable. She was perched on the edge of her seat. She wore a crisp, black blouse, something more appropriate for a funeral than a visit to prison. Kristoph offered her his courtesy smile, his eyes heavy with exhaustion.

Anna didn’t return the smile. “You forged evidence,” she accused, cutting right to the heart of the conversation.

Kristoph dropped his polite smile. “Yes,” he agreed sharply. Though it was hardly up for debate, as he’d been convicted unanimously.

Anna’s jaw flexed angrily. “And would I be correct in assuming it wasn’t the first time?” she asked through clenched teeth.

Kristoph sank back in his chair, watching Anna through tired eyes. “Why would I implicate myself in further crimes?” he questioned.

Anna’s eyes narrowed in an intense glare, one that Kristoph recognized from the courtroom but had never been leveled at him. “Just answer the question. You’re already on death row, what does it matter?” she pointed out.

Kristoph let out a long breath. “I suppose my avoidance of the question should be answer enough?”

Anna’s hands balled into fists where they laid on the surface of the table. She was no longer looking at Kristoph. “Then, my trial, nine years ago…” She trailed off.

Kristoph remained silent, lips pressed tightly together. His gaze dropped down to his shackled hands, and he absently tugged on the chains. His attention snapped back to his visitor when he heard a thunderous bang from the other side of the window.

Anna slammed her hands down on the table, rocketing out of her chair as the entire room shook with her rage. Kristoph was suddenly reminded that Anna had once been a well-respected attorney. He had learned his own fierce courtroom gaze from her, after all.

“Damn you!” she cursed, thrumming with righteous fury. “How could you? Scott was a friend,” she growled, hands clenching around the edge of the table.

Kristoph had hoped it would never come to this. He’d gone nine years without anyone having a clue of his forgery. He knew Anna could never understand his actions. And yet, now he would finally have to answer for his crimes, if only to Anna.

“I did what I had to,” he said simply.

Anna growled in the back of her throat, Kristoph’s answer clearly angering her further. “You had to sell out a friend? Send him to his death?” she spat.

Kristoph glared up at her, wishing he had enough slack in his chains to stand. “Yes,” he claimed. “I did it to save you. It was a difficult choice, but I had to make it.”

Anna shook the table again, and Kristoph suspected that she would have overturned it had it not been nailed down. “It wasn’t your choice to make!” she yelled. “What right did you have to choose my life over his?”

Kristoph gripped the edge of the table, his chains not long enough to slam his hands on it. “Then what would you have me do, Anna? Let you die?” he challenged.

Kristoph had never seen Anna so angry, and her gaze burned on his cheek. “If you’re that bad of an attorney, then yes! You don’t send an innocent man, my best friend, to prison because your case is going poorly!”

Kristoph huffed angrily, glaring at her. “Scott and I spent all day looking for evidence, and there was none. There was no ‘other way.’ Do you think I did it on a whim?” he insisted.

“Then you buy more time, or you let them declare me guilty and appeal,” she snarled. “There would have been time!”

“Anna, you saw what they did to Scott. They would have killed you. You want me to take that chance?”

She slammed her fists on the table again, hair coming undone to frame her dark eyes. “They killed him because of your evidence! And because of you, nine years later, we still don’t know who killed Al! Someone killed one of my best friends, and you killed the other. I trusted you!” she cried furiously.

Kristoph sighed. “I needed to save you, I wasn’t going to let you die to an unjust system,” he murmured tiredly.

Anna shook with anger. “Look at me Kristoph,” she demanded. When he didn’t respond she hit the table again. “Look. At. Me.”

Kristoph met her eyes, a storm raging in them. They were fierce and intense like nothing he’d ever seen. Neither Wright nor Edgeworth could ever hope to match the force of nature inside Anna at that moment.

“Do I look like I wanted to be saved?” she challenged darkly. “Tell me, what use was saving me, when my two best friends are dead, and the student I spent precious years of my life training, my student who was like a son to me, is soon to follow? What point is there to me being here in their place when everything I’ve ever done as a lawyer is a sham?”

Kristoph flinched under her gaze, but kept eye contact, looking at her earnestly. “You got to go back to your family, you sent your children to college.” He paused, taking a shaky breath. “And I got to spend nine more, beautiful years with you. I stand by my choice.”

Anna’s fury remained, but her eyes shone with regret, and her body shook more fitfully. “And what of all the other times you forged evidence? All the other innocent people you sent to their deaths? The lives you destroyed? What about Wright, and Trucy, and Zak Gramarye?” she spat, her voice shaking with emotion. “What’s your excuse for them?”

Kristoph was silent, struggling to keep her gaze before his eyes fell back to his lap. He’d justified all those actions all those years ago, all the evidence he’d forged and the cases he’d won. Under Anna’s gaze all his justifications fell flat on his tongue.

Anna blinked and tears trailed down her nose. “You hide behind your excuses but that’s all they are,” she accused. “You’re just greedy and unjust like those prosecutors you despise. Did you enjoy playing God with my life?”

That question pierced Kristoph’s skin, inciting a sickness within him. His eyes slowly rose to meet Anna’s quivering gaze.

He spoke quietly when he said, “Yes.”

Anna’s lips trembled. “Was it worth it?” she spat tearfully.

Kristoph broke their gaze to look at his surroundings, the blank walls and cramped conditions. His clothes hung limply on his frame, as prison withered away his strength. The handcuffs on his wrists cut into him painfully, and his fingers tingled.

“No,” he breathed.

Anna stared at him silently, still shaking with a torrent of emotions. They battered her skin, begging to be let out. She was too old for this much pressure. She sighed, a single breath filled with a lifetime’s worth of regrets. She turned to leave, with the intention of never coming back.

“Anna,” Kristoph called weakly.

She stopped her motions, not giving him the privilege of turning around. She tilted her head to speak over her shoulder. “I trained you better,” she said accusingly.

“You did,” Kristoph said in agreement. “You deserved better.”

Anna dropped her head, unable to think up a response. She opened her mouth to say something, any of the plethora of curses she’d thought up on her way here. But they all died in her throat, instead coming out as a long sigh. She shook her head, and left, heels clacking on the tiled floor.

Klavier periodically requested a visitation, but Kristoph denied him every time. He recognized that it was petty to be so spiteful in his position. But he convinced himself that he didn’t want to hear anything Klavier had to say. If he saw him he would surely have questions. Kristoph knew they’d be questions he couldn’t answer, ones that sliced open old wounds and dragged all the skeletons from his closet. Most of all, Kristoph was afraid that in his weakened state, he might answer them. So he turned Klavier away, time and time again.

Kristoph’s first appeal was six months later, in July. Kristoph had elected to represent himself in court. He trusted his own abilities better than someone from the district. Besides, no defense attorney would be willing to represent him with the amount of hate he received. The public hated him for murdering Zak Gramarye and betraying Klavier Gavin. Lawyers hated him for disbarring Phoenix Wright (and betraying Klavier Gavin).

He was assigned a larger protective detail than normal on his way to the courthouse. As much as the state despised him, they didn’t want to be held responsible for his death while he was in their custody. Even so, Kristoph could feel the heated disgusted glares of the officers assigned to him as they led him into the courthouse. They were not gentle.

Kristoph got a brief glimpse of the sky as they led him from the armored car up the steps of the courthouse. He stopped for a moment, gazing up. It was bright and warm as the sun’s rays hit his cheeks. It was the first time in, how long? Kristoph wondered what it looked like at night. What constellations hovered over LA tonight?

A guard cursed at him, shoving him in his back. “Keep moving!” he ordered sharply.

Kristoph did as instructed, throwing a sidelong glare at the guard. There wasn’t much he could do except follow orders. The courthouse was blocked off, police officers standing on the other side of tape that was keeping the public out. They clamored, shouting at Kristoph from afar. Some protestors were in circles, holding brightly colored signs above their heads. Some called for his death to be called off, and others called for his head on a pike. Regardless, he felt the glares of an entire city boring into his skin.

His guards led him to the courtroom, sitting him down at the defendant’s bench, hands and feet shackled. Even though he was representing himself, a police officer stood at his side to keep an eye on him. His trial was closed to the public, having attracted too much unwanted attention. As such, it was just Kristoph, a handful of police officers, the judge, and a prosecutor in the spacious courtroom.

The trial started, and Kristoph’s head swam as the judge read off his crimes. After he was done, the prosecutor went over all the reasons Kristoph’s appeal should be denied. He was a repeat offender, cunning, untrustworthy, his crimes were of a particularly heinous nature, and on and on.

The courtroom fell silent, and Kristoph looked up, startled by the sudden hush. He noticed that all of the eyes in the courtroom were on him. The prosecutor cleared his throat.
“Mr. Gavin, what are the grounds for your appeal?” he asked harshly.

Kristoph blinked at him, his eyes falling to the shackles around his hands. The guard stiffened, thinking that Kristoph was forming an escape plan. Kristoph’s wrists ached, and his body grew weaker every day. He was tired and in six months he had already gone through every book on his shelf. He had seen firsthard what prison did to people. He remembered watching Simon Blackquill being taken away after his trial, and then meeting him seven years later in prison. He was a different man, unrecognizable. Is that what awaited him?

“There are none,” Kristoph said simply, raising his eyes to watch the prosecutor across the room. “There’s no reason to appeal my execution.”

The room fell silent again, before the prosecutor burst into laughter. “It seems the defendant has seen reason!”

Kristoph ignored him and his arrogance, turning to level the judge with the most intense gaze he could. If he were stronger and not out of practice, he was sure it would be enough to make the man quake in his seat.

“In fact I’d like to request my execution be expedited,” he said firmly.

The judge stared down at him with wide eyes. “Why, Mr. Gavin, that is a strange request!” he exclaimed.

The prosecutor was looking at Kristoph with a furrowed brow. “As I said, the defendant is very intelligent. This might be part of a scheme,” he warned.

Kristoph leveled his gaze at the prosecutor, finding he still had some power in his eyes when the prosecutor shuddered. “No tricks,” he said sharply. “The whole world wants me dead. I say we give them what they want,” he said simply.

The judge still looked at him warily. “I will take that into consideration,” he said. “If there is no appeal, then I order Mr. Gavin to be escorted back to prison, and his execution will be set at a later date.”

Kristoph nodded politely, his guard yanking on his cuffed hands to lead him out. He could feel his wrists being rubbed raw, and he just hoped he wouldn’t have to do this again.

 
Five months later, Kristoph was still very much alive, with the promise of an execution date early the next year. It was still to be determined, but that was more of a guarantee than he’d had five months ago. He was reading Crime and Punishment for the fourth time, in its original Russian now, when he received his first visitor in months.

They let him entertain visitors in his cell again, hands uncuffed. It was supposedly a reward for good behavior. Kristoph wouldn’t complain, as he didn’t feel like talking to his first visitor in months through a glass wall. They let the young man in, who gazed around his cell with interest. Kristoph smiled, as he always did.

“Mr. Justice, it’s nice to see you,” he said with fake warmth. “You look different, I can’t quite put my finger on it.”

Apollo looked at him with exasperation, folding his arms. Though his glare was less effective with one eye covered in a bandage.

“You’re not funny, Mr. Gavin,” he muttered.

Kristoph held his palms up. “I take pleasure where I can,” he said simply. He looked over Apollo more closely, trying to sort out the reason for his new look. However, the boy didn’t seem hurt, as far as he could tell. “Are you hurt, Mr. Justice?”

Apollo shook his head, reaching up to pull the bandage over his head. “I guess I don’t need this right now.”

Kristoph tilted his head, examining Apollo’s previously covered eye. He couldn’t see anything wrong with it. “Why are you wearing a bandage over a perfectly healthy eye, pray tell?” he questioned.

Apollo sighed heavily, sinking down on Kristoph’s bed. “It’s a long story,” he muttered.

Kristoph raised his eyebrows, gesturing at the room around them. “I’m certainly not leaving any time soon.”

The corner of Apollo’s mouth twitched into a small grin, before abruptly falling. “Clay’s dead,” he said quietly.

Kristoph looked at Apollo warily. “Surely you don’t intend to accuse me of murdering him, too?” he asked harshly.

Apollo glared at him. “Not unless you had something to do with it,” he shot back.

Kristoph scoffed. “Of course not. You’re the one who locked me in this wretched place. Your memory can’t be that bad,” he spat.

Apollo sat back, crossing his arms. “You committed murder from prison once. I don’t doubt you could do it again,” he pointed out.

Kristoph rolled his eyes. “Please, if you’re going to entertain that idea then you’re wasting your time.”

Apollo kept his arms folded tightly across his chest, peering at Kristoph thoroughly. Eventually he sighed, dropping his arms and relaxing.

“No, I know you didn’t do it,” he sighed, as if he almost wished he was wrong.

Kristoph quirked an eyebrow. “Then why are you here?” he asked.

Apollo scratched his head, looking towards the wall. “I-I don’t know,” he admitted. “Just, you’re the only person I know that ever met Clay,” he admitted.

Kristoph frowned. “If you’ve come to reminisce about childhood memories, I’m afraid you’ve come to the wrong person,” he said drily.

Apollo scrunched up his face, shaking his head at the suggestion. “No, that would be weird.”

“Agreed,” Kristoph said.

Apollo shrugged dejectedly. “I guess it’s just, you’re the one who taught me, and you taught me well. Even though you’re…” Apollo trailed off, gesturing vaguely as he searched for the right word.

“Me?” Kristoph finished.

Apollo nodded, fidgeting awkwardly. “And, well. I think my coworker is lying to me. I mean, I know she’s lying to me,” he babbled. “I think she might have had something to do with Clay’s death. And I feel like part of the reason I’m so suspicious is because…” He trailed off again, gesturing vaguely in Kristoph’s direction.

Kristoph smirked with slight amusement. “I made you paranoid?” he suggested, earning a nod from Apollo. “Have I ruined you forever?”

Apollo glared at him again. “Let’s hope not.”

Kristoph looked at him with interest. “I’m still not quite sure why you would come to me, of all people,” he admitted.

Apollo stared down at his hands, his fingers clenching and releasing rhythmically. “I can’t go to Mr. Wright about this. You’re the only other mentor I’ve had.”

Kristoph was quiet at the admission. This was a terrible idea if Kristoph had ever heard one. Who went to the person they imprisoned for advice? Yet seeing his student reminded him of all those years he’d put into Apollo. He’d trained him, worked on countless cases with him, and taught him the proper way to make an objection. If anything, the fact that Apollo had been able to rightly convict him was a testament to Kristoph’s own teachings. This was his one and only apprentice, and he was as good as Kristoph could have hoped.

Kristoph pushed his glasses up. “Your instincts have always been good, Apollo,” he admitted.

Apollo swallowed, his shoulders shaking. “Are you saying you think she…”

Kristoph pursed his lips. “I wouldn’t say that. Not if you don’t have any evidence. Just that you can’t deny the possibility.”

Apollo looked down again, balling his fists. “I want to believe in her, but I’m sick of having people I trust lie to me,” he said forcefully.

Kristoph’s chest felt unnaturally tight as he watched Apollo. He’d been joking, but it occurred to him that he may have ruined Apollo. Being used and betrayed by your mentor didn’t heal so easily, it seemed.

“She’s likely a better person than I am,” Kristoph stated matter-of-factly.

Apollo snorted. “That’s not saying much,” he muttered wryly.

Kristoph’s demeanor softened, now that he’d managed to soothe Apollo, if only slightly. “No. I suppose it’s something you’ll have to find out for yourself.”

Apollo nodded, getting up to leave. “Thanks, Mr. Gavin,” he said, starting to put his bandage back on. He paused when he was finished, looking at Kristoph timidly. “You should let Klavier visit you.”

Kristoph glared at Apollo. “That’s none of your business,” he snapped.

Apollo shuffled his feet nervously. “He really wants to see his brother again. I think, he deserves some closure.”

Kristoph pinched the bridge of his nose. “Mr. Justice, please leave,” he instructed.

He heard quick footsteps out of his cell, and when he opened his eyes, Apollo was gone.

 
In January, he received a visit from Phoenix.  When he appeared in Kristoph’s cell, he was everything one would expect of famed attorney Phoenix Wright.  He’d cast off his old sweats for a brand new suit, his badge proudly displayed on his lapel.  More importantly, though, he showed up to Kristoph’s cell with a young woman in tow.  Kristoph watched her, she wasn’t someone he’d seen before.  He didn’t think he’d be meeting new people in prison.

“Wright, how nice of you to visit,” he said with a fake smile, eyes never leaving the girl.  “Who’s your friend?” he asked.

The girl was still taking in their surroundings, an unsettled look on her face.  “This is my employee, Athena Cykes.”

Kristoph noted that the pendant on the girl’s neck briefly flashed from a deep blue to a bright green at the sound of her name.  “Another employee?  You’re moving up in the world, Wright.  Is that a new suit?”  The girl’s pendant faded back to blue as soon as Kristoph opened his mouth.

“It is,” Wright said dismissively.  “I heard you asked to have your execution moved up,” he said flatly.

Phoenix certainly didn’t beat around the bush.  Kristoph’s brow furrowed in annoyance.  He’d asked that information to stay under wraps.  Clearly even that couldn’t deter Wright.  Out of the corner of his eye, he noted Athena projecting some sort of holographic screen.

“How did you hear about that?” he snapped, turning his attention back to Phoenix.

Phoenix smiled confidently.  “I’m friends with the Chief Prosecutor, remember?” he reminded him.  “Do you have a date?”

Kristoph huffed in frustration.  “At the end of the month,” he replied.

Phoenix eyed him thoughtfully.  “Does your brother know?”

Kristoph glared at him, waving his hand dismissively.  “I certainly haven’t told him.  But I suppose if you know, he probably does as well.”

Phoenix nodded contemplatively, shooting a glance towards Athena.  Kristoph sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Why are you here, Wright?” he snapped.  “Or did you just come here to mock me in light of my impending death?

Phoenix turned his full attention back to Kristoph.  “Just curious why you would do that.  I would have expected you to fight to the bitter end,” he commented.

Kristoph folded his arms, glancing away.  “Please, I still have some semblance of pride.  I’ve seen what prison does to people.  I’d like to die with what’s left of my dignity,” he explained sharply.

He noted that Athena furrowed her brow, looking at her screen in confusion.  “I still have a few questions for you, if you don’t mind,” Phoenix said.

Kristoph looked back at him, frowning in distaste.  He knew fully well that even if he said no, Phoenix would ask anyway.  “Did you not drag enough of my secrets out of me during the Misham trial?” he spat.

Phoenix was unfazed by Kristoph’s anger.  “There’s still a few things I need to know.”

Kristoph clenched one hand around his upper arm.  It appeared even death couldn’t come quickly enough.  “Am I not allowed to die with some secrets left?”

Phoenix just grinned infuriatingly.  “You know me, I need to know everyone’s secrets.”

Kristoph rolled his eyes.  “Fine, then.  Ask away, but don’t think I’ll reveal them simply because I’m a dead man,” he grumbled.

Phoenix’s grin fell away, replaced with an appropriately serious expression.  He nodded in agreement.  “I would expect nothing less.”  He turned to his assistant.  “That’s why Athena’s here.”

She flashed him a bright smile.  “Ready, Boss!”

Phoenix turned his attention back to Kristoph.  “You never told me why you killed Zak Gramarye,” he pointed out.

Kristoph barked out a laugh.  “Is that all, Wright?  I thought it would be obvious that I killed him to get revenge.  I never got over the fact that he turned me down over a poker game,” he explained, brushing the question off.

Athena’s eyes widened.  “When you mentioned that poker game, you overloaded the Mood Matrix!” she exclaimed.

Kristoph blinked.  “I don’t know what any of those words mean.”

Athena brightened in excitement, prepared to explain before Phoenix sent her a look.  She cleared her throat.  “Basically, when you mentioned the poker game, you got really angry,” she explained.

Kristoph’s mouth twitched.  “Of course I got angry, it was ridiculous.  He denied me my chance to best my brother in court over a silly game of cards,” he spat.

Phoenix cleared his throat, getting Kristoph’s attention.  “Do you mind telling us more about your meeting with Zak?” he asked,

Kristoph sighed before nodding.  “I don’t know what you expect to find,” he muttered.  “I went in to meet him, prepared to talk about the case.  Instead he wanted to play poker.  I didn’t bother paying much attention, as I didn’t think it was important.  We talked, I told him about my brother, and he told me about his life.  And then I lost, and he fired me,” he recalled.

Athena tapped on the screen in front of her.  “When you said Zak told you about his life, you were surprised.  Why is that?”  Kristoph squinted at her, wondering what she was doing in with that machine of hers.

Kristoph shook his head.  “It was years ago.  I remember telling him that he reminded me of Klavier, and then he told me about his early years playing piano at a dive bar.”

Athena tilted her head, looking at the screen for a long moment.  “You’re afraid,” she noted, playing with her hair.

Kristoph glared at her.  “Excuse me?” he snapped.

“When you mentioned your brother, you were afraid,” she said, more confidently now.

Kristoph laughed wryly.  “What about that fake, ridiculous, spineless brother of mine could make me afraid?” he challenged.

Athena simply stared at him, her gaze unnerving, as if she were seeing straight through him.  “I know what I heard,” she said confidently, crossing her arms as she smiled.  “And now you’re just faking it.”

Kristoph glared daggers at her, but it did little to sway her.  “You’re not angry.  You just want us to think you are,” she claimed.

Kristoph continued to glare at her, as Phoenix turned to face his employee.  “Thanks for the help, Athena.  Can you go wait outside now?” he asked quietly.

She pouted.  “But I’m so close!” she insisted.

Phoenix chuckled lightly.  “Don’t worry, I’ll fill you in later.”  His eyes flicked to Kristoph.  “But right now I need to talk to a friend, alone.”

Athena sighed.  “Fine,” she said dejectedly.  “But if he gives you any trouble.”  She punched the palm of her hand, beaming up at Wright.

“I’ll come right to you,” he laughed.

When she left, Kristoph rubbed his jaw, feeling the muscles ache from being clenched so long.  Phoenix sat down across from him, watching him closely as he tried to form a question in his head.

“It was never about Zak, was it?” he guessed, folding his hands in his lap.

Kristoph let out a long sigh.  He supposed he could let go of a few secrets, considering his long life was coming to an end.  “Of course not, I hardly knew the man.”

Phoenix frowned, eyes searching Kristoph’s face.  “Do you hate Klavier that much?”

Kristoph simply shrugged, sitting back in his chair.  “It’s complicated,” he said simply.

Phoenix tilted his head, narrowing his eyes slightly.  “Complicated enough to kill a man?”

“Multiple men,” Kristoph corrected.

Phoenix let out a dark laugh.  “Right, forgive me.”

A heavy silence fell between them, and it was just like the quiet meals they used to share.  Kristoph vividly remembered the days he’d spent at the stove, quietly cooking dinner while Phoenix and Trucy sat at his table.  Trucy would put on magic shows for them, and test her tricks on Kristoph.  Later on at the Borscht Bowl Club, Phoenix would “play” the piano, and Kristoph would tease him endlessly about how a monkey could do better.

Some of those times, Kristoph had genuinely enjoyed.  He wondered why that had never been enough.

“You look horrible, Kristoph,” Phoenix teased lightly.

Kristoph laughed softly.  “That’ll happen in prison.  I can’t get my nails done as often as I’d like,” he sighed, making a show of frowning at his nails.  “I suppose it doesn’t matter, since I’ll be dead soon.”

Phoenix watched him, examining his face for any hint of emotion.  “Are you scared?” he asked.

Kristoph shrugged.  “Why does it matter to you?  You put me in here,” he reminded him.

Phoenix sighed, looking at Kristoph sadly.  “I had to.  You killed people, ruined them.”

Kristoph’s mouth stretched up into a wry grin.  “That’s just like you isn’t it.  Noble to a fault.”  Kristoph let out a long breath.  “I’m more scared of what I’d turn into if I lived out seven more years in here,” he admitted.

Phoenix frowned, clasping his hands together.  “You could find something to live for.  Something that makes you happy,” he suggested.

“Noble. To. A. Fault,” Kristoph repeated pointedly, earning a slight smile from Phoenix.

He averted his gaze, a subdued melancholy aching in his chest.  He was tired and bitter.  He knew he wasn’t old in the conventional sense, and still each one of his thirty-four years weighed on him.  Kristoph had spent his life building an empire, only to watch it fall to his own pride.  He had let bitterness and jealousy consume him.  It was only when he arrived in prison, ready to live out the end of his days, that he wondered what for.

And yet, he was still bitter.  It was a poison that ached in his bones, sinking its claws into every word he spoke.  He couldn’t cast it off so easily.

“I haven’t been happy in a very long time, Wright,” he confessed, his voice raw and weak.

They lapsed into silence once more.  It wore on, Kristoph running through all his memories of Wright, all the laughs exchanged.  If Kristoph hadn’t been… Kristoph, he imagined that friendship might have been real.

“Phoenix,” he called quietly, catching the other man’s attention.  “When I die, Klavier’s going to be alone,” he began.  “I know I have no right to ask this, but could you…”  He stopped to swallow his pride.  “Could you look after him?  Make sure he’s alright?” he asked.

Phoenix looked at him curiously.  “I thought ‘it was complicated,’” he said, air quotes and all.

Kristoph frowned.  “It is.  But regardless of whatever else I feel, he’s my brother.”  It was the best explanation he could provide.

He couldn’t begin to explain his feelings towards his brother.  Even Kristoph himself didn’t know what they were.  Kristoph done everything in his power to destroy Klavier’s life when he was free.  That was what had landed him in prison.  And yet through all those years, he’d still watched over him.  Whether it was out of hate—or something else—it made Kristoph uneasy to think that no one would be watching over his brother in his absence.  Kristoph’s emotions towards Klavier had burned so brightly that Kristoph had dedicated his whole life to his brother, even if it was malicious.  Without Klavier, there was no Kristoph.  For whatever reason, his brother’s continued well-being was important to Kristoph.

Phoenix watched him for a moment before nodding, smiling sadly.  “You were there for me when I didn’t have anyone else.  Even if it wasn’t real, taking care of Klavier is the least I could do,” he promised.

Kristoph let out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding.  “Some of it was real,” he admitted.

“Yeah, same,” Phoenix replied, gently reaching over to place a warm hand on Kristoph’s shoulder.  “You could try and patch things up with Klavier.  Give him some closure,” he suggested quietly.

Kristoph frowned, glancing away.  “Isn’t it too late for that?  It’s been ten years since we got along.”

Phoenix shrugged.  “He’s family.”  He paused, brow furrowing.  “I know he wants to see you,” he said simply.  “Besides, what have you got to lose?”

Chapter Text

A week before his execution, Kristoph made a phone call. His guard was somewhat surprised at the request, given Kristoph hadn’t made any calls during the extent of his incarceration. Kristoph didn’t have many people willing to listen to him.

To his relief, the call went through. The first words out of his mouth were, “Please don’t hang up.”

There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line, but it stayed open. Kristoph thanked natural human curiosity for that small miracle.

“I need to meet with you,” he stated firmly, using what was left of his energy to project a false sense of confidence.

There was a long pause. “Why should I do anything for you?” Anna snarled bitterly.

Kristoph knew this would be where he encountered resistance. He close his eyes, pressing his head to the wall. He asked for the strength he needed to carry out this one final task.

“It’s not for me. It’s for my brother,” he explained quietly.

Anna mulled his request over in his head silently. Kristoph’s heart hammered in his chest, pleading for this one thing. He needed someone’s help, and Anna was the only one that could do it. He couldn’t ask her to do this for him, but hopefully she would do it for Klavier.

“I’ll be there tomorrow,” she said warily, and Kristoph breathed a sigh of relief.

Before he could thank her, she hung up. Kristoph took a preparatory breath, before dialing the next number on his list. He needed to make preparations if he wanted this to work.

Anna arrived early the next day, her shoulders stiff and face stern as she was escorted into his cell. She stood before Kristoph, eyes locked on his. She didn’t dare turn her attention away for a moment. Her curiosity had led her to consider his request, but that hardly equated to trust.

“I’m not here for you,” she said curtly, eyes unyielding.

Kristoph felt a painful longing stir in his chest at Anna’s strength. “I wouldn’t expect you to be.”

Kristoph walked over to his desk, Anna’s eyes tracking him the whole way. He plucked a crisp piece of folded paper from the center. Anna’s eyes narrowed, not leaving him as he strode back. She examined the paper in his hands, running over all the ways he might kill someone with it in her head. However, his own hands were bare, unless that was someone another trick.

“I’ve written a set of instructions for you to follow after my death,” he began, presenting the paper to her. “I’ve updated my will to give you what you need.”

Anna pointedly folded her arms, glaring at the paper in her face. “I’m not your pawn anymore,” she spat.

Kristoph raised an eyebrow. “I can photocopy this if you’d like,” he offered.

Anna sighed, shaking her head and taking the paper from him. She carefully unfolded it, skimming over the words carefully penned in Kristoph’s familiar hand. Her eyes narrowed as she got further down, and she eventually brought her gaze back up to Kristoph.

She gestured at him with the letter. “What makes you think I’m going to do any of this?” she snapped.

Kristoph’s mouth formed a thin line. He recognized it was a fair question to ask of him. “As I said, it’s for Klavier.”

Anna glared at him. “How do I know this isn’t another one of your tricks?” she demanded.

That was also a fair question. After all he’d put her through, Anna had every right to be suspicious. She’d been betrayed enough times to avoid playing into his hands again. He gestured at his chair, inviting her to sit.

“Take a seat,” he said, sitting down on his bed. “It’s a long story, and I can’t tell you all of it. But you deserve to hear what I can, given what I’m asking.”

Anna sat down in his chair, crossing her legs and looking at him expectantly. “There’s a family secret I never told Klavier. I couldn’t admit it to myself until recently,” he said stiffly, clasping his hands.

Anna scowled, unamused. “Then why do you need me? Why can’t you just tell him yourself?” she asked.

That was the question, wasn’t it? Why couldn’t Kristoph tell his brother the truth? It was the same reason he couldn’t tell him throughout the past twenty-five years. The truth was too much for Kristoph to take. He wasn’t like Klavier, prepared to embrace the truth at all cost. He lived in lies and fabrications, and would deny anything painful until the end of days. For the majority of his life, he’d been Klavier’s only family. Even at the very end, he didn’t want to lose that. Still, he recognized Klavier’s right to know the truth. His need for Anna was primarily selfish; wanting someone else to deliver the words that he himself could not.

At the same time, he knew that he had caused Klavier enough pain. He knew that he would continue to cause him pain, even after his death. Finding out the truth that Kristoph had kept hidden might only hurt him further. Klavier undoubtedly felt enough guilt about his role in Zak Gramarye’s death, to find out the same man was his father might prove to be too much. Klavier might not be prepared to handle the truth during Kristoph’s lifetime. He would surely go through enough turmoil with Kristoph’s death. Kristoph needed to ensure that when Klavier was ready, the truth would be there.

Kristoph kept her gaze, imploring her with his eyes. “I doubt he’ll be ready for it while I’m alive. It may hurt him, as much as it may help,” he explained cryptically.

Anna turned her head, looking at him out of the corner of her eye. “If it’s so painful, then why tell him at all?”

Kristoph took a slow breath. “He has family. Apart from me. He’ll have someone to look after him, if he chooses.”

Anna’s head snapped back to him, eyes wide. She eyed him, trying to judge the truth of his words. Kristoph could see the moment she determined he was telling the truth. She blinked, lips parted in surprise. She glanced at the instructions in her hand, rereading them briefly. She weighed her options in her head, uncertainty on her face.

All at once, it cleared, and her eyes shined with determination when she turned back to him. “Alright,” she said with a quick nod. “How will I know when he’s ready?”

Kristoph smiled gratefully at her. “When he’s started to heal, and he’s no longer bitter.” Kristoph’s eyes fell. “I don’t want him to become bitter.”

The underlying meaning went unspoken. I don’t want him to become me.

Anna watched him carefully, lips no longer forming a forceful frown. “I understand,” she murmured. A beat passed before she spoke again. “I’m not doing this for you,” she clarified. “I’m doing it for the brilliant young law student I employed.”

Kristoph closed his eyes, fighting the longing inside him. “Thank you, Anna.”

She stared down at her lap, the instructions from Kristoph laid out before her. “You know I was grateful for the nine years I spent with you, too,” she breathed. “I just wish you were the person I thought you were.”

She shook her head, tears welling in her eyes. “I don’t understand, Kristoph. We could have been happy,” she said, voice laden with regret.

Kristoph kept his eyes closed as he replied. “It’s useless to imagine what could have been.”

Even so, Anna couldn’t stop. “You were like family. If you hadn’t…” she gestured at the prison walls around them. “We would have had so many more years together. You, me, Apollo, Klavier… Scott.” Her voice cracked. “Don’t you regret the life you lost?”

Kristoph crossed his arms, squeezing himself tightly. “I made my choices,” he said firmly.

Anna watched him sadly, shaking her head. “How can you be the same boy I knew?” she wondered aloud.

Kristoph finally opened his eyes, his chest aching at the sight of Anna before him. “I wish I knew,” he murmured.

Anna stood blinking back tears as she stepped towards her student. “Oh, Kristoph,” she sighed, bringing a hand to his cheek. 

Kristoph stared up at her, her dark, shining eyes mirroring his own. They were wet and raw and filled with sixteen years’ worth of memories.

“I’m going to find out what happened to Al, and I’ll clear Scott’s name,” she said with muted confidence.

Kristoph nodded once. “I wish you luck where I failed.”

Her thumb moved in slow circles beneath his eyes, thumbing the dark circles there. “I’ll remember you as you were.”

Kristoph offered her a wistful smile, covering her hand on his cheek with his. “That’s certainly more than I deserve,” he said ruefully.

Anna nodded in agreement. “Even after all you’ve done, you’re still like a son to me,” she sighed. “And I’ll always love you as one.”

Kristoph closed his eyes again, feeling needles behind them. “And I you.”

She touched her free hand to his other cheek, cupping his face in her hands. “Goodbye, Kristoph,” she choked out.

“Goodbye, Anna,” he breathed.

Kristoph awoke early. He put on his best clothes: his suit and tie that he used to wear to court. He shrugged on his old jacket, finding it hung loosely on his shoulders. Even a little over a year in prison had chipped away at the man he once was. He’d wasted away, until clothes that once made him feel powerful now overwhelmed him like a child. He was fastening his cuff links when the cell door slid open.

He turned around, and gave his visitor a weak smile. “Thank you for coming, Klavier,” he said politely.

Klavier stood uncomfortably at the entrance to his cell, a folding chair in hand as he stared at Kristoph. Kristoph refused to meet his eyes, instead taking a seat in his chair. He’d never wished for Klavier to see him like this, so weak and powerless. His whole life he’d been strong and cool, particularly in front of Klavier. He’d had to be, as his brother’s guardian. But now that façade fell, like all the other masks he’d worn.

Klavier tentatively stepped in front of him, unfolding his chair across from him, only a couple feet away. He sat down, still giving Kristoph a calculating look as he settled down.

“Danke for finally seeing me, Kristoph,” he said stiffly, sitting forward in his chair.

Kristoph waved his hand dismissively. “You were persistent enough,” he said casually.

Klavier just stared at him with confusion. How could Kristoph be so unaffected? Klavier had so many questions, and no idea where to start. He’d had questions for years, and now was finally his chance to get answers. But all the ideas he’d formed before arriving at the prison died in his throat.

He ran a shaking hand through his hair. “Scheiße, Kristoph. I don’t even know where to start,” he admitted, uncharacteristically nervous.

Kristoph nodded, his mouth suddenly feeling dry. “Yes, I suppose that will happen when you haven’t conversed with someone in a long time,” he pointed out.

Klavier nodded slowly, twisting the rings on his hand. “Ja, mein Gott, how long has it been?”

“Eight years,” Kristoph supplied.

Klavier nearly seemed to choke at the realization. “Eight years? I would have been seventeen,” he said with a strained voice, breaking eye contact with his brother.

Kristoph nodded, his fists clenching at the thought. That was the last time they’d talked without Kristoph’s lies and manipulations getting in the way. The last time they’d talked, brother to brother, Klavier had been a teen on the verge of adulthood. Now he was a grown man, fully formed, and Kristoph had missed all of it.

Kristoph glanced away, staring at the papers scattered on his desk instead of the man before him. “Do you remember that day we spent in Griffith Park?” he asked quietly. “We hiked to the observatory and watched the stars?”

He could feel Klavier watching him. “Ja, of course I remember,” he replied.

Kristoph raised his eyes back to Klavier’s, still bright and young, unlike Kristoph’s. “I think that was the last time I was truly happy.”

It had been so long ago. But even now, Kristoph remembered the feeling of Klavier’s hair running through his fingers. They had been together, and they’d been happy. It had been the last time before Klavier left for Germany, and then they drifted apart. What Kristoph wouldn’t give to relive that day, to feel the sun warm his skin and to watch the sun rise as his brother laid next to him. It had been the closest to perfect Kristoph could manage.

Klavier’s mouth twitched into a deep frown as he watched his brother, emotions playing across his face. He tried to keep himself together, to stay firm and strong. But finally, he cracked, burying his face in his hands.

“Oh, Kris,” he said mournfully. “Why? Why did everything turn out so wrong?” he asked, begging for an answer.

Kristoph sighed, grasping one of his arms. “I was jealous,” he finally admitted. After twenty-five years, he could finally say aloud what had boiled within him from the start.

Klavier stared at him, brow furrowed and lips parted. “Jealous?” he said quietly. “Of me?” His voice rang clearly with disbelief.

Kristoph looked away, unable to bear his brother’s gaze as he admitted his greatest shame. “You were a genius, right from the start. Everyone loved you, they hailed you as a prodigy, undeservedly, I thought.”

Klavier shook his head, blinking. “Kris, I idolized you,” he said, unable to understand how his big brother, the one who raised him and cared for him, could possibly have been jealous.

“I know,” Kristoph said with a half grin. “You followed everything I did, yet you did it better. My hair, my job. You became an attorney at 17, and a rockstar before then. How could I not be jealous?”

Klavier’s eyes were still wide with shock. “Kris, I… I couldn’t have done half of those things without you,” he insisted.

Kristoph shook his head. “I appreciate the sentiment, but we both know that’s not true,” he said wryly.

Klavier wilted before his brother, clasping his hands together. “Scheiße, Kris, I can’t believe… eight years?” he said in disbelief. “I always thought…” His voice trailed off as he collected himself.

“I always thought we’d get over that fight after the Gramarye trial,” he admitted. “I was young and impulsive and I said things I didn’t mean. It was so childish,” he spat, angry at his own foolishness. “I thought we’d have the rest of our lives to make amends,” he choked. “I never thought it would end like this.”

Kristoph sighed, eyes heavy as he watched his brother battle his tears. “It’s as much my fault as it is yours,” he reminded Klavier gently.

Klavier shook his head. “Does it matter now? All those wasted years we could have spent together.” He closed his eyes tightly. “I have to live with that choice. I never got to have my big brother back after that day.”

Kristoph looked down, staring at his hands. “You have me now.”

Klavier narrowed his eyes and his gaze burned Kristoph’s skin. “You changed so much, you’re not the brother I knew.” He looked away, pulling at his hair. “And yet I can’t bring myself to hate you,” he spat.

Klavier slammed his fist on the back of his chair. “You’ve killed and hurt so many people, people I care about and yet I still care about you!” he yelled angrily. “You used me, betrayed me, and I was never more than a pawn in your little game, but I still love you!” His voice dissolved into an angry growl as he glared at Kristoph intensely.

This was what Kristoph had worked for, all those years. To hurt his brother and make him feel the hate that burned in Kristoph every day. Seeing it in him now felt hollow. Why had he wanted this for so long?

“You won’t have to feel anything for me much longer,” was all Kristoph could think to say.

Klavier growled at him. “Nein! That’s not true!” he yelled. “You get to die, but I have to go on living! I have to face the very same people whose lives you ruined with me as your weapon. I’m not you, Kris! I can’t just stop caring when it’s convenient for me!”

Kristoph frowned digging his nails into his arm. “What makes you think I’ve stopped caring?” he questioned.

Klavier laughed bitterly. “Scheiße, Kris! Have you ever cared about a damn thing in your life?” he challenged.

Kristoph stared into his eyes, once again feeling a passion stir within him. It was something he hadn’t thought about in a very long time, but had always been present. It was in all those infinite moments that he'd spent with his brother: their hands joined as he walked him to school, sharing study materials during exam week, letting him rest his head in his lap during long nights on the couch. He only realized now that it was stripped away, that those were the most precious moments of his life.

“I cared about you,” Kristoph breathed, so soft he feared Klavier wouldn’t hear it. “I never stopped caring.”

Klavier shuddered under the weight of the confession, closing his eyes to fight back tears. “Bitte, don’t lie, Kris. I can’t take any more of your lies,” he whispered, voice broken.

Kristoph sighed remorsefully. “You know I’m not lying.”

Klavier’s eyes shot open, full of tears and pain. “Then why?”

Kristoph sank back in his chair, so incredibly tired and ready for the end. “I told you, I was jealous, resentful, and bitter and I let it consume me.”

Klavier shook his head vehemently. “I get jealous, too, but I don’t murder people,” he spat.

“I know,” Kristoph sighed. “It’s hardly an excuse, but it’s the truth,” he said simply. It wasn’t technically a lie.

Klavier closed his eyes and shook his head again, weaker this time. “It’s not good enough.”

Kristophraised his hands, palms up. “Could anything I say ever be?” he asked.

“Nein,” Klavier admitted with a sigh. “I just want to understand.”

Kristoph offered him a weak smile. “I hope that you never do,” he said simply.

Despite himself, Klavier’s mouth broke into a small smile. It quickly dissolved into dry sobs, at the memory of the carefree days with his brother. They would smile and laugh without reservation. Klavier could believe everything his brother said, without worry of lies or tricks. They could enjoy each other, ignorant of the years ahead.

Kristoph’s expression fell to sympathy. He reached over and gently took Klavier’s hand in both of his. Klavier started at the unexpected touch, but otherwise allowed Kristoph to take his hand. Kristoph rubbed slow circles into the back of his hand, letting the motions calm his brother.

Kristoph frowned, eyes fixated on their clasped hands. “I don’t deserve your tears, little brother.”

That only served to make Klavier cry harder. “I can’t help it. You’ve been my only family practically my whole life. What am I supposed to do?” he cried.

Kristoph continued to stare at their hands, his own shaking slightly. “You’ll find a new family,” he said painfully, and he could feel pinpricks at the back of his eyes.

Klavier scoffed. “And who would that be?”

Kristoph shrugged. “Wright and Apollo, if you’d like. Or someone else. It’s your life to do as you please with.”

Klavier shook his head at the suggestion. “I ruined Herr Wright’s life. He won’t want anything to do with me,” he insisted.

Kristoph remembered Wright’s promise, and hoped he’d have the decency to keep it. “Don’t be so sure. They’re forgiving people, not vengeful like me,” he said. “Don’t let me close you off from the world.”

Before he could stop it, a lone tear rolled down his cheek. It fell, landing on the back of Klavier’s hand. Klavier looked up, blinking in surprise. He stared at the tear track on Kristoph’s face, and the wetness in his eyes. Slowly, he reached up and brushed away the trail left in the tear's wake. But the floodgates had opened, and more soon followed.

“Kris,” he breathed, too shocked to say anything else.

Kristoph tried to turn his head away, only for Klavier to pull him back, their eyes meeting with a desperate intensity. “I’ve never seen you cry before,” Klavier said quietly.

No matter how much he tried to blink the tears back, they kept coming. He gave up, simply letting them fall.

“I don’t know if I ever have,” Kristoph admitted, an unfamiliar wetness in his voice.

Klavier couldn’t help but crack a smile. “It seems you’re human after all,” he said with a weak laugh.

Kristoph returned with a small smile. He reached up with one hand to tuck Klavier’s bangs behind his ear. “You have every right to be angry and bitter,” he sighed. “But don’t lose sight of yourself, pup.”

Klavier shuddered, and quickly dissolved into heavier sobs. He looked down, letting his hair fall forward to hide his blotchy, tear stained face. Kristoph watched on sadly, and a long time passed before Klavier was in any shape to reply.

Just as Klavier opened his mouth, the cell door slid open. “It’s time,” called the guard outside.

Kristoph stood, as Klavier looked to the guard with wild eyes. “Wait!” he demanded. “Please, give us more time!”

Kristoph put a gentle hand on Klavier’s shoulder. “Klavier,” he said softly, looking at his brother with knowing eyes.

Klavier cracked. “Kris, I just—I need more time with you. There are so many things I have left to say!”

Kristoph just looked at him with longing. “All the time in the world wouldn’t be enough, Klavier, you know that.”

Klavier shook, grasping Kristoph’s hand on his shoulder. “Let me come with you,” he demanded, nails digging into Kristoph’s hand.

Kristoph sighed, wrapping his arms tightly around Klavier in one last embrace. “You don’t want that. Remember me as I was,” he breathed into his ear.

Klavier still shook, burying his face in Kristoph's shoulder as he tightened his hold on his big brother. He held his body, so familiar and constant through all his years, that was now thin and fragile beneath his suit. Klavier sobbed harder. Kristoph similarly put his head on Klavier’s shoulder. He inhaled, as deep as possible. Klavier smelled like motor oil and chai, something Kristoph would have sneered at any other time. But now, it smelled like home.

He tightened his arms around Klavier in one final squeeze. “You’ll always be my little brother, no matter what,” he promised.

Klavier nodded into his shoulder. “Ich liebe dich, Kris.”

Kristoph pulled back, gently touching a hand to Klavier’s cheek and brushing away his tears. “And I love you, pup.”

Ever so slowly, Kristoph parted, like a ship leaving land. He went to the guard’s side, feeling cold at the loss of his brother. The guard quickly marched him out, down the hall. Just before he turned the corner, he looked back over his shoulder. Klavier still stood in his cell, looking lost and empty. Kristoph sent him one final smile, before he disappeared out of sight.

As they strapped him down, Kristoph tried to remember all the people he’d cared for. He thought of their faces, and the sound of their voices. Anna, with her dark eyes and endless passion. Scott, and his affable gruffness that had never failed to make Kristoph laugh. Alissa, and the deadly flower in her name that Kristoph had cared for long after she was gone. Phoenix, whose suspicion had evolved into something more. Vongole, his precious companion that he hoped would learn to love her new master. Apollo, who was very nearly like a son to him. And finally, Klavier.  Klavier, who he had raised from the day he was born, who he had hated with such intensity that he would raze the world to bring him ruin. His dear brother, that he had loved in equal measure. 

He would raze the world, and witness Klavier rise from the ashes. 

They prepared the injection, and Kristoph chanted Klavier’s name in his head.

They say when you die, your life flashes before your eyes. For Kristoph, all he saw was a flash of his favorite memories; Klavier learning to talk, drinks with his old coworkers, meeting Phoenix, that first night with Vongole, Christmas with Apollo and Anna.

His last thought was a wish that Klavier would be alright.

 
The loud motorcycle sputtered to a stop, sending birds scattering into the sky. Klavier swung his leg off the bike, grabbing the day’s mail on his way to the door. As soon as he opened the door, a whining ball of orange jumped on him. Klavier laughed, scratching at her ears.

“Ja, I know, you missed me,” he laughed, pushing her off as he walked deeper into the house.

He hung his keys up by the door, walking to his kitchen counter as he began sorting through his mail.

“Junk, junk, junk,” he hummed idly, tossing each letter into the trash as he spoke. “Junk, junk, j—”

He dropped everything, the papers falling onto his counter and some rolling off onto the floor. Vongole immediately pounced on the loose letters, gnawing at an envelope.

“Nein!” Klavier shouted, pushing her off his mail with his foot.

He grabbed the letter from her mouth, recognizing it as another piece of junk mail and tossed it. He turned his eyes back to the crisp white envelope on his counter that bore his name in familiar, neat script. It was a letter from a ghost.

Klavier tentatively picked it up. It wouldn’t be the first time his brother had killed with a piece of mail. There was no return address, and strangely enough, no stamp. That meant whoever had left it knew where he lived. He frowned, taking the letter with him into the living room, Vongole trotting after him. He sank down in his chair, Vongole sitting in front of him, head cocked to the side.

“Does it smell like him, girl?” he asked shakily, reaching out to pet her.

She whined in response, licking her nose. Klavier looked back at the letter in his hands. If he were smart, he’d take this to the Prosecutor’s Office and have them examine it before he even thought of opening it. But curiosity got the better of him, and he carefully tore it open with shaking hands.

Inside was a single page letter, written in Kristoph’s careful hand. It was something Klavier hadn’t thought he’d ever see again. His fingertips skimmed tentatively over the words and his chest ached at the familiarity. Klavier took a deep breath, and began reading.