Please forgive any canon errors/inconsistencies. I'm very new to writing for this fandom/pairing, and even though I've tried to cross-check a bunch of things with the Ace Attorney wikia, I'm bond to have missed something. This was supposed to be a oneshot, but it GREW. Currently seeing it as 2-3 chapters but that could change.

If you think Kristoph Gavin was pure 110% devil incarnate with no possibility of nuance or humanity in him, then you should not read this fic as it will contain what might be described as romanticized" villain woobification" and Kristoph feeling serious genuine emotions.

Title comes from the song "Sonya Alone" from the fantastic Natasha, Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812. Although the song in context does not really seem to lend itself to this scenario/pairing, I was nevertheless inspired by certain lyrics-some of which I've included as an introductory epigram below.

I know you are capable of anything.

I know you so well, my friend.

I know you might just run away

What am I to do? Who do I ask for help?

Is it all on me? Is it all on me?

-( Lyrics by Dave Mallory from Natasha, Pierre, and the Great Comet of 1812)

On August 10, 2027-less than a than a year after he'd been convicted of the murder of Drew Misham-Kristoph Gavin had tried to slit his wrists in the prison showers.

Fortunately, Simon Blackquill-the other disgraced attorney on Gavin's cellblock-had managed to thwart the attempt, sending out his hawk to summon the guards and the prison doctor before it was too late.

Phoenix Wright did not hear about it until the next day. Although though Wright suspected the news had been kept from him as long as it could've been, he nevertheless felt as though it had been thrust upon him before he was fully prepared for it. Though wasn't that the case with everything concerning Kristoph Gavin and himself?

"It's Kris-Mr. Gavin, sir," Apollo Justice had said, as he placed a steaming mug of coffee on his boss's desk. "He tried to kill himself yesterday morning. He's out of urgent care, but he's still under close observation. I thought you'd want...that you should know."

There was a curious edge to Justice's voice at delivering the news. Phoenix's first instinct was that the boy was understandably exhausted. He suspected his young associate had spent the bulk of the previous evening at Klavier Gavin's side.

Of course, there was another plausible, far more cynical explanation for Apollo's odd demeanor: disappointment that Kristoph's suicide attempt had failed. Though the thought saddened him, Wright could hardly blame the young man for feeling that way. There was a time when Phoenix himself might have felt similarly-but those days were long gone. It would've been far simpler than the mess of emotions he was feeling right now.

Disgust that Kristoph had tried to take the easy way out rather than allowing justice to run its natural course. Anger that he himself had not foreseen this as a possibility.

Rage that Kristoph had acted so selfishly, so callously-without a second thought for what his death would do to those he left behind. Fear that maybe Kristoph's actions hadn't been so callous after all-that he'd known and did not care-may even have actively hoped-that this death would hurt Klavier, Phoenix , Trucy, and even Vongole.

Pity, though Phoenix was aware that Kristoph deserved none of it, that this brilliant, terrible, wonderful man should've been brought to this.

Trepidation for what he knew he must do now.

Wright waited until Gavin had been off intense suicide watch for over a week before he scheduled his visit. Though the sentimentalist in him had wanted to come the moment he'd heard, the pragmatist in knew that this was the very definition of unwise-the foolishly foolish delusions of a foolish fool in love, as a certain whip-wielding prosecutor might have put it. He couldn't have run the risk of his presence triggering Kristoph to try again.

He told no one of what he was planning to do, sure that Miles, or Apollo or Trucy would stop him. Half-hoping they'd succeed. Maybe more than half-hoping if he was truly honest.

Instead, he merely told the staff of the Wright Anything Agency that he had several errands to run and would be away for the rest of the day. It wasn't until he walked outside to call for a cab that he realized Athena Cykes had followed him out.

"You're going to see him-aren't you? That man...Gavin," she said quietly.

To say that Phoenix was taken aback would've been a gross understatement. "How did you…" he began before his eyes landed on the chain around her neck. That goddamn Mood Matrix. For a moment, he considered denying that he was going to see Kristoph, but he knew Athena would not be fooled.

"I'm not going to stop you, Mr. Wright. Not when I know I'd do the same thing in your circumstances. But I thought you might like the company."

"You don't need to do this, Athena."

Her blue eyes were so kind, so full of understanding."I know. I won't go inside with you unless you want me to. I just...I can't let you drive to that prison all alone. Not when your heart is cry-"

Recognizing that he was fighting a losing battle and quite sure he didn't want to hear the rest of that sentence, Phoenix muttered a curt "fine" and allowed Athena to walk him over to her own car.

He'd been a little worried that Athena would want to spend the short drive to the prison talking about his feelings , but she spoke only once, asking if she might turn on some music. He acquiesced, and soon the loud screeching of the Gavinners' latest album filled the car. He was a little surprised, as he hadn't pegged Athena as a fan.

"Trucy," she said brightly. "For my birthday. I think she's trying to tell me something about what she thinks of my taste in music... I can change it if you want," she added gently.

"It's fine." And it was. Despite what Athena might expect, thinking about one Gavin brother did not necessarily bring to mind thoughts of the other. And it was a welcome distraction to speculate as to which of Klavier's ex-boyfriends was the titular "prosecutor's witness."

But then the song changed…

Atroquinine, My Love…

He felt his body clench up suddenly, his tie now seeming to strangle him like a vise.

"Mr Wright, are you okay?" Athena's voice dragged Phoenix back to himself-or at least, as much as could be expected.

He had just enough presence of mind to bark out "Not this one. Play anything….just not this one" and refocus Athena's eyes on the road.

Athena quickly switched on the radio instead, but the damage had already been done.

Phoenix realized now this would be the first time he'd seen Kristoph Gavin in the flesh since the Misham trial. It had been even longer since the two had actually spoken to each other in person when Phoenix had visited Kristoph in his cell shortly after the conclusion of the Shadi Smith case.

He thought back to that time. It had made his blood boil to see how well Kristoph was adjusting to incarcerated life.

The luxury items carefully positioned around, as though this was the set of the cover shoot for an interior decorating magazine- Better Prisons and Gardens perhaps-and not a jail cell.

The neatly-pressed suit that he'd somehow been permitted to wear in lieu of a prison jumpsuit-the mere fact that he was wearing it an indication that he'd roped some hapless guard into picking up his dry cleaning.

Most of all, the friendly, affable way he'd greeted Phoenix-as though nothing had happened between them. As if they weren't solely responsible for each other's misfortune. As though some terrible part of them hadn't genuinely rejoiced in destroying each other, just as they'd rejoiced in saving each other.

As though they were still friends .

Of course, they'd never really been "friends" after all. They'd been so much more than that.

Perhaps that had been the real problem all along-friendship, whether real or feigned, would've been so much simpler than what Phoenix Wright and Kristoph Gavin were to each other.

Truest of companions. Bitterest of rivals. Savagest of enemies. Gentlest of lovers.

For he could be gentle, damn him. Kristoph Gavin, the sociopath, the murderer-the traitor to all Phoenix Wright stood for- could be so fucking gentle that when he suddenly wasn't gentle any longer, his savageness-whether directed at himself, at Phoenix, or at the world that had "wronged him-suddenly seemed more of a lie than his gentleness.

But evenhis gentleness was never gentle enough. His hatred was always there but carefully hidden underneath the veneer of love-almost imperceptible like the soft kisses Kristoph used to press between Phoenix's ear and jawline. Kisses so light he might've sworn he imagined them if it weren't for the faint curve of a smile he felt pressed against his skin.

He thought again of that subtle smile again. That wonderful, terrible smile. That involuntary twitch of the lips, one of the few things in the world that Kristoph Gavin could never control. That radiant smile that that he- a washed-up, hoodie-clad piano bum-had somehow managed to draw out of stoic, handsome Kristoph "Coolest Defense in the West" Gavin on countless occasions.

Had that smile always been secretly cruel? A self-satisfied smirk that his machiavellian plan was working-that Wright was fully under his control and did not suspect a thing? (Naturally, he'd been wrong on all counts).

Or had he smiled for another reason entirely? Had he smiled, because he'd decided to pretend for just a moment that this wasn't just another game? Had he smiled because the thought of them -dining together, laughing together, sleeping together with no ulterior motives whatsoever-made him genuinely happy?

Either way, Kristoph's mask had slipped, and Phoenix's own mask had slipped alongside it.

Wright felt an uncomfortable prickling in his eyes, and hoped that Athena in the driver's seat beside him hadn't noticed. He was sure she'd want to have deep meaningful conversation about "his heart crying" that he wanted to avoid at any costs.

Besides, Phoenix insisted to himself-his heart wasn't crying. Even if his eyes were .