A/N I apologize for nitrogen ahead of time, because it is rather pointless.

Disclaimer (I'm really skimped in including these in my stories, aren't I?): I do not own anything in the Ace Attorney series/ Gyakuten Saiban series. Or Ace Attorney Investigations/ Gyakuten Kenji.

Hydrogen

Ema firmly plastered the giant poster over her desk, and stepped back to admire her handiwork. Excellent.

"Hm… What is this, fräulein?"

She spun around, knowing exactly to whom that infuriating tone belonged. "What do you think?" she snapped irritably. "It's the periodic table of elements."

Gavin was silent for a moment, then cocked his head. "Ja, I can see that. You do love your science, ja?"

"Of course," she said, and was about to shoot him a defiant glare when her love for science overshadowed her hate for fops. Instead, an unwilling smile tugged at her lips. "Science is really great! It doesn't lie, it doesn't hate, it isn't biased, and it's the most perfect, most irrefutable evidence in a case."

Klavier, astonished at her sudden change of mood at the very prospect of scientific investigation, was keen to keep her talking. "Ja, that is true," he said, as Ema's eyebrows traveled up her forehead. "It is very useful. It has, however, been a while since my last, say, chemistry lesson. Bitte, enlighten me… What exactly does hydrogen do?" he asked the first thing that came to mind, feigning ignorance.

"You glimmerous fop, not even knowing that," Ema replied, secretly skeptical that even Klavier didn't know the properties of the very first element. However, she was only too happy to answer, since it did, after all, have something to do with what was easily her favorite science: chemistry. "Well, to start, it's the lightest element in the periodic table. That's why it's the first one, see? Molecular mass."

"I see…"

"Prosecutor Gavin, there's someone here to see you." A young detective slid open the door and beckoned to Klavier, who nodded.

"I shall see you later, fräulein detective."

All Ema offered was a taciturn nod, and a low mutter. "I rather you didn't."

Unfortunately for Ema, she did see Klavier later that day. And unfortunately for Klavier, Ema was in an infinitely less charitable mood.

"What is the matter?" he questioned as she glared at him.

"Look. Just look. The stupid leak from the ceiling spoiled my periodic table while I was at my coffee break!"

The leak must have been enormous, for the poster had been entirely soaked until all but one element was readable. "At least hydrogen remains."

" 'At least hydrogen remains'? What about the other elements? What justice is this? Spoilt, all of them! And hydrogen 'remains'… hydrogen isn't any better than the rest, why should it get preferential treatment? Why did the ceiling even have to pick on the others?" she ranted illogically.

"I may not know about that, but the sort of weightless, carefree feeling is rather pleasant." Klavier was recalling what Ema had told him about hydrogen being the lightest element in the periodic table.

"It's scientifically impossible to feel weightless," the detective rebutted irritably, spouting whatever came to mind, no matter how odd it might be. "And anyway, you should just say 'happy' or 'elated', instead of confusing people with superfluous phrases like that. And weightless carefree-ness has nothing to do with hydrogen at all! It may be the lightest element in the periodic table, but that's literally, and feeling weightless or light is figurative."

"Ah, broaden your mind a little, fräulein, and use some imagination. Do you not feel it? The lifting of burdens, the relieving of responsibilities, and the accompanying feeling of weightlessness, untroubled and carefree."

"Now I'm wondering what kind of drugs you're doing," Ema said to the amused prosecutor. "The only time I'd be tempted to feel light would be a case of oxygen deprivation."

"Or immeasurable happiness."

"Then I and the rest of the world have yet to experience this 'weightless feeling' of yours. It only happens in books and poems."

Klavier paused for a moment—he could use this to his advantage, something he'd been slowly building up to… "Only in literary works, you say?" he said carefully. "I assure you, the feeling is quite real."

"Well, I'll phone you when I see it. When Hell freezes over."

"Then maybe I should show you."

Before Ema could react or even process what he had just said, or begin to marshal her suspicions together, the prosecutor leaned in so close that all she could see was his tanned face and ridiculously blue eyes.

Hm… Ema thought, since she couldn't quite speak due to her mouth being preoccupied with something else. Klavier was right about that weightless feeling. I am feeling as light as hydrogen.

Helium

Ema was walking past the square in front of Sunshine Coliseum when she caught a glimpse of a blue and white badger. She froze mid-step, as she watched the monstrosity hand out balloons to little children too young to realize the artistic insult it bore to… well, anyone above the age of seven.

It wasn't the blatant disregard the visual trauma it was causing to nearly everybody, but the phobia she had nursed that made her freeze up. When she had been young, there had been a certain… incident concerning the Blue Badger, something she didn't care to remember. Hence the irrational fear of the mascot.

To her irritation, her muscles didn't seem to be freeing up anytime soon and, she soon realized, her eyes simply would not detract from the dreaded figure, so Ema quickly tried to direct her attention to something else. Namely, the balloons it bore in its paw.

Think happy thoughts, Ema… the helium in the balloons, for instance. Helium is the second lightest element. It's lighter than air, which is why it's used to fill balloons. It's also non-flammable, unlike hydrogen, which, admittedly, is lighter than helium itself.

"Fräulein?"

The sound of a familiar, reassuring voice, even if it was annoying, relaxed her body immediately, and Ema managed to turn around, away from the sight of the police mascot. "Mr Gavin… Uh, hello."

Klavier didn't speak, but glanced towards the Blue Badger, presumably because the very sight of it had just transfixed her.

Ema felt the need to explain herself, because she was suspicious that her eyes had been bugging out weirdly when she was goggling at the badger. But how could she do so without explaining the embarrassing phobia that caused her to be paralyzed with fear? "Er…" she began, then stopped immediately.

Looming over her was a dark shape outlined by sunlight, but the bright blue was unmistakable. It gestured mutely at the two of them, its eyes eternally wide, its mouth in a perpetual, stupid grin. Ema could barely speak with the fear as the mascot silently bade her to purchase some balloons.

"I shall take the whole bunch," Klavier said, carelessly tossing a fifty-dollar bill for the gigantic bundle of balloons. He turned to Ema. "Here, fräulein detective."

"What? I don't want—"

"You were staring at the badger, were you not? For what reason but this? Just try deny it," he replied with a smirk.

"Um. Yes. Thanks," Ema lied, partly amused at Klavier's mistake, partly relieved at the excuse. She reached to take the balloons from him, but he suddenly retracted his hand.

"Wait just a moment, fräulein."

"Yes?"

"I will grant you these revered balloons, if you would go with me to lunch on, say, Saturday."

Ema stared. "No."

"Free lunch, fräulein detective…" he said temptingly.

"No."

"A day out with one of the world's most wanted men…" he proclaimed arrogantly.

"No."

"And you get these balloons as well…" he appealed knowingly.

"No."

But somehow, after a dozen wheedles from the rock star, Klavier's charisma and persuasion shone through, and Ema was foiled.

"A date it is!" he cried joyfully, and Ema cringed as more than a few heads turned their way.

Well, at least I have these balloons.

Lithium

Ema was worried. Very worried. The most worrying thing about her worry was that she was worrying, most uncharacteristically, about the very worrying fop.

Klavier wasn't the type to show an angst rock star persona, and that was exactly the problem. He was all smiles, flirtatious, carefree. There always seemed to be a sort of façade around him, which was annoying at times, because of the emptiness of it all (though he seemed genuine around her), but this time, it was different. The protective wall he'd built around him grew and thickened, and now it seemed that she was staring at him through a tough sheet of Plexiglas.

The final blow of betrayal had been dealt by his brother. That was the cause of his change in attitude, the distance, the warm veneer he laid on thickly.

The detective swallowed. Could she really bear to see the hidden coldness in his face once again? But she needed to give him the autopsy report, and there was no helping that. So Ema turned the doorknob and entered. "Mr Gavin, I have the autopsy report…"

Klavier was strumming his guitar aimlessly, humming under his breath. "Ja, you may leave it at the desk. Danke," he said, looking up and giving a smile.

True, the smile looked one hundred percent genuine, because Gavin was so practiced at it, but his manner was different. Less flirting, more of a professional nature… not that she was complaining, but it did show Klavier's uncharacteristic manner. "Er… Are you okay?" Ema asked hesitantly.

"Ja."

"Because you seem a bit… different…"

"Really, is this concern? I am touched, fräulein detective," he teased lightly, offering a smirk.

"Yeah, well, if it's concern, are you complaining?"

"Nein, not at all, except that there is no need to worry on my behalf."

"Look, your brother betrayed you," Ema said, flinching at the passing shadow over his face. "I would be worried if you showed no signs of being affected. But you do seem affected."

"I am over it. I am not particularly proud of him, nor am I happy about the whole unfortunate affair, but I have come to terms with the fact that my brother is a psychotic murderer."

"Lithium," Ema muttered.

"Sorry?"

"I said, lithium."

"And why…?"

"Third element in the periodic table. The lightest metal. Soft and silvery; it's quite pretty, really. But when it comes into contact with moist air… a chemical reaction occurs, dulling it to more of a gray—and eventually black—tarnish," Ema explained. "That's you. Lithium. That façade is the pretty part, the perfect exterior. Even cut open, it exudes a sort of metallic luster (which just goes to show how good you are at pretending). But then that moist air will expose it, reveal what it has been hiding—the darkness, the secrets."

Klavier chuckled. "Please. I am not one to angst."

"Maybe not on the outside. But the inside… grey tarnish, remember?" Ema said, and when Klavier was about to interrupt, she quickly ploughed on. "What I'm saying is that you shouldn't have to pretend so hard and quit bottling it all up. It's easier to get over things when you have someone by your side."

The prosecutor stared.

"I mean—n-not that I'm implying anything in any way."

The German looked down, his shoulders shaking with laughter. "Really, fräulein…"

But through the laughter, there was a curious sort of edge, combined with a faint gratefulness, and a long-nursed hurt…

Then Klavier looked up, and Ema, to her relief, could see no hint of moisture in his azure eyes.

"Danke."

Beryllium

"What the hell is this?"

Klavier looked up. "This? Just what I ordered."

For in front of Ema Skye's office was a pile of heavy-looking boxes with expensive-looking tags on them.

"I am barricaded in."

"Just wait a moment, fräulein, for the delivery men to come. They are supposed to help me move these boxes upstairs."

"What are they, anyway?"

"Speakers."

Ema was agonized at the thought of more of his horrible music, but felt that getting Klavier to move the boxes was a more urgent matter. "Your office isn't even in this building!"

"True, but I do spend a lot of time at the precinct."

"You don't have an office here! Where are you going to move the speakers?"

"Leave the little details to me. You should be getting ahead with your paperwork, ja?"

"No. I should be going out, buying more Snackoos, and going home."

Klavier stood there for a moment, watching the entrance, then turned to her. "Well, I am getting quite bored waiting for the delivery men. Let us talk."

Ema answered with a fierce glare, and a 'MUNCH MUNCH MUNCH' of her last packet of Snackoos, indicating her resolute silence.

But Klavier was sure he could break through her unwillingness to engage in conversation with him. He was, after all, a charismatic, charming (former) rock star. "You know, these speakers are made from beryllium."

Ema stopped munching and threw a handful of Snackoos at him, which he quickly batted away, lest they fall upon the beryllium-speaker-holding boxes. "Beryllium? Impossible!" she exclaimed, unable to resist. "Pure beryllium?" And when Klavier nodded, she shook her head suspiciously. "You were probably conned. I mean, pure beryllium is really good for acoustics, but it's really hard to shape and so much more expensive than titanium… oh."

Klavier smirked. "Just who do you think I am, fräulein?"

"…Yeah, whatever. Now, get these boxes out of my way!"

"Nein, both I and those boxes are perfectly content where we are." Ema rolled her eyes. "Although I would not mind if I were in your office with you."

KA-TONK!

"I feel as though I've been letting up on the Snackoo-ing, you know?" Ema said lightly as Klavier rubbed his forehead. Then: "…Oh damn."

Klavier smiled knowingly. "You have run out, ja?"

The detective offered a glare. "And that's another reason why you should move those boxes. Or I'll smash them, whether or not they're pure beryllium!"

The German had a feeling that she cared more about harming the actual element than the sheer cost of the speakers, but chose not to comment. Instead, he said, "That would be troublesome. How about I get you out without shifting these very heavy boxes?"

Ema deliberated for a moment—who knew what tomfoolery he'd be up to?—but then decided that the shortage of Snackoos was a much more pressing need than anything the fop could deal out. "Fine."

A smirk passed over his face, one that instantly made Ema regret her decision. But before she could even voice out a protest, he had somehow leaned over the towering boxes and grabbed her (rather intimately) by her waist. The next thing she knew, he was hoisting her up, and time was slowing (or perhaps Klavier had simply paused in bringing her to the other side of the barricade and prolonged the moment in his arms), with his stupid hands perpetually squeezing her waist till she was breathless.

"Er…" she began as he set her on the ground. It was nothing, it was nothing, it was nothing. "You're lucky I don't have any Snackoos right now!" she threatened.

"I was counting on it," he said, and kissed her.

Boron

Why did I agree to this? Why the hell did I agree to this?

"Fräulein detective? I must say you look stunning tonight. More than usual, which is quite a feat, if I may add."

Ema felt the blood rush into her cheeks—a flush, not a blush—and threw a Snackoo at Klavier, who blinked. "A Snackoo? But your amazing outfit has no pockets, ja?"

"No," she conceded. "But I knew I would at least need one. So I brought one."

The prosecutor smiled. "And that was the only one, ja?"

"…Yeah," Ema said reluctantly. What possessed me to agree to this? What mad, suicidal impulse compelled me to agree to this?

Ema certainly didn't know what she was doing in the same limousine with Klavier, in a fancy black dress and done-up hair, and Klavier in an overly presumptuous outfit, suitable for a glimmerous fop like him, on their way to a firework show, in what some ridiculously stupid and dense people might call a date. Ema choked at the very thought, which made Gavin turn to her in with a semi-amused, semi-concerned look. "I was just choking in disgust," Ema said. "Of having to spend the night in your company."

"Harsh words, even by your standards." Oh, how she wished she could wipe that smirk off his face. "But firstly, it is not right to criticize your date like that. And secondly, I rather think that you were choking in astonishment at how I have managed to somehow make myself more… glamorous."

Ema's fop-killing mode was activated, and she honestly had to work not to do more than shoot a death glare at Klavier. "You... you…" But she could not think of a sufficiently bad insult; not even 'glimmerous fop' would suffice this time round.

Klavier's features suddenly softened as he gave a warm smile, and said, "I am a fop, ja?"

"Worse. Much worse."

"…In any case, we are here."

The firework display was supposed to commemorate some kind of launch that was sure to contain the words 'inaugural' and 'pioneer', and Klavier, being one of the High Prosecutors, was invited. And he had invited Ema. And Ema had accepted. Why?

She very nearly tripped over the long hem and high heels, but managed to regain her balance with her knowledge of energy transference—namely, transferring the kinetic energy of her fall to the fop. Unfortunately, the fop did not fall. "A little clumsy, aren't we, fräulein detective?"

Must ignore fop. Klavier was perfectly content chatting to himself, however, but somehow, he pulled Ema into the conversation. "Fireworks. I like fireworks," the detective found herself saying, drawn in by his natural and carefully nurtured charisma as well as his beseeching gaze. "I used to watch the displays with my sister when I was young. Did you know that amorphous boron is used in fireworks? The green kind." And now, I am rambling. Why do I always have to make such a fool of myself?

"Look," he said suddenly, and Ema obeyed.

Through the conversation, they had wandered from the foyer, to the hall (where people stared and goggled), and finally to the courtyard. The crisp night air and fresh scent of dampness made for a pleasant setting to the crackling, dry sparks that flew up into the sky like jets of steam, illuminating the night sky and banishing the stars. There were a few loud bangs, and a decisively bright flare followed, shooting across the sky with a streak of sheer color. Then the classic flowers ascended, with plumes of red, orange, blue, green (amorphous boron, Ema thought to herself), purple, white, yellow—every color imaginable, mixing into each other as the night filled up with light.

This continued for a few more minutes, as Ema watched, enthralled by the spectacle. This was easily, easily the best fireworks display she had ever seen, not only because of the fantastic view, but the expert pyrotechnics were absolutely amazing.

It was times like this that Ema forgot the annoying presence by her side. But Klavier had not forgotten the woman. In his mind, even as he watched the fireworks, stealing glances at her from out of the corner of his eye, he knew this was the perfect opportunity. And what do you do with perfect opportunities? You reach out and grab them like you never have before.

By the end of the display, Ema had forgotten about the fireworks (and the boron, however attractive it was), for as the flares were dying down, Klavier had reached out and grabbed the opportunity like he never had before.

Carbon

Ema was dating Klavier Gavin.

Now, don't make any assumptions—it was all a misunderstanding.

But for now, before the mess had time to sort itself out, Ema was dating Klavier Gavin.

It wasn't fair. It wasn't right. Why did she have to be stuck with that guy of all people?

"Gavin… why am I here?"

Okay, so it wasn't entirely a misunderstanding. It was a… retort, of sorts.

"Because you wanted to get back at one of my fan girls. One instance where they came in useful, ja? Or perhaps you were just jealous."

"Shut it."

Yeah, his fan girls had annoyed her. Irritated her. And just plain murdered her with their air-headed, inane comments—but mocking her? To that degree? Sure, they had provoked her, but mocking her? And so came her rebuttal—dating Klavier Gavin.

"Well, you are here, and I am here, and we are here on a date," the man said louder than necessary.

Ema face-palmed. "Just shut up, okay?"

Klavier simply leaned in, his blue eyes catching Ema's own cobalt in their mesmerizing gaze. "But you know, there is an even better way to make them really angry."

The detective was interested, despite herself. Both her and Gavin knew this was fake—and I don't care what Trucy says, she thought—so her annoyance was at least softened slightly. "What is it?"

Klavier abruptly pulled back, grinning. "A surprise. I shall orchestrate it, if you so wish."

A series of very, very undesirable consequences for her decisions panned out in her mind's eye. "You won't kiss me, right?" Ema asked, cringing uncontrollably.

"Oh, no, no, no. Nothing like that, of course." He paused, then gave a sunny smile. "Not that I would not like to."

"Ew. Please, spare me. But just tell me what you're planning. Now."

"A surprise, fräulein detective. So do you accept this mystery? The reward would be a rather amusing result from my fan girls…" He dropped his voice. "…who are watching us on this, er, intimate date, by the way."

Ema knew exactly what he was insinuating: all her efforts and her stupid mistake (dating him to enrage his fan girls) would be for nothing if the pair of them appeared to do absolutely nothing to cause excessive jealousy. And one way to remedy that was to go with whatever the fop was planning. It wasn't a kiss, and she could stand an embrace… could she really risk it for these rabid fans?

There was a sudden whisper behind some suspicious-looking bushes, and disdainful, bimbo-tic giggles ensued.

Yes. She could risk it.

She leaned in. "Fine," she hissed. "Anything to get back at those fan girls." And fan boys, should it come to that, she added mentally.

His trademark smirk decorated his face for an instant, only to be replaced by his charming smile—his smile is not charming!—as he winked one desperately blue eye at her. "Then be prepared," he whispered back.

"Ema…" he began loudly. It was a rather secluded café, and Gavin had assured her that the media did not know of this particular hidey hole, Ema thought desperately to herself as her sense of foreboding grew larger and larger. Whatever he tries will only be witnessed by my intended victims… and me. "I know we have only been dating for about two days now, but…"

Oh shit. Oh shit oh shit oh shit. Ema blanked out and tuned out whatever corn Klavier was spouting, hoping, praying, that he wasn't about to… wasn't about to…

And now he was kneeling down on one knee and holding out a velvet box.

…THAT HE WASN'T ABOUT TO PROPOSE TO ME!

"…That's all you have to offer?" Ema was most definitely not going to say something like, 'Yes, yes, a thousand times yes!' but she wasn't entirely prepared to discard the act. She'd reject him, with flair. "A stick of carbon?" Hah, take that! I'm sure you're just about reeling in confusion right now.

"True, diamonds are an allotrope of carbon," Klavier answered easily as Ema gaped and fumed. "But that does not make them equal to certain values of carbon itself."

Ema tossed her hair and pointed a decisive finger at him, as Klavier let a flash of amusement pass over his face before returning to his shocked pretense. "Rejected! You have just been rejected, Klavier, and—"

She knew that this approach was risky, because there was no telling the reactions of the fans, and now they sprung up from the bushes. Will they be happy I've kept him available, or angry that I was foolish and presumptuous enough to reject what they think is a fallen god? Truth be told, Ema wasn't sure which she'd prefer—remaining safe, and taunted for making a wrong decision, or harassed physically, but having succeeded in her goal.

"Come, fräulein detective," Klavier urged as he sprung up. "Let us ride the wind."

Nitrogen

"And now… presenting… the Amazing Trucy!" Apollo called out lackadaisically, and then whispered conspiratorially to the two-member audience (he didn't count because he was her 'assistant', and Mr Wright was just 'Daddy'), "Sorry about this."

"It is no problem at all, Herr Forehead."

"It wouldn't be a problem," Ema interjected moodily. "If she hadn't invited the fop along as well."

An argument may have erupted right then and there, with the angry Ema, and the wearied Klavier, but it was at that moment that Trucy emerged from the makeshift curtain. She appeared as a silhouette, shielded by mist and cloud, and was slowly more and more distinguishable.

"Liquid nitrogen," Ema said, tilting her head ever so slightly to the side.

Then the Trucy-shaped shadow disappeared and in a flash, the real Trucy materialized on the other side of the stage, perfectly visible in a dashing outfit of soft blue cloth. "Welcome!" she cried joyfully. "To the magic performance of the century, by the one and only—or perhaps not so unique," she asserted slyly as the fog slowly thinned to reveal a Mr Hat-styled puppet—only it was Trucy's size and shape. "—Trucy Wright! For my first act, I will need… two volunteers. Anyone? Anyone at all?" Trucy called, as Klavier and Ema watched on amusedly. "You! The lovely couple at table number 6! Come join me here on the stage!"

Ema bristled at 'couple', and a small furrow appeared between Klavier's brows, but they both shook it off with a shrug at the naïve young girl (who must have read too many cheap romance novels or shoujo manga, for she believed two people who hated each other's guts—or at least Ema detested Klavier, and Klavier merely saw her as a rather amusing colleague—were made for each other). They both got up and made their way up to the platform.

"Welcome, welcome, to the spotlight! To the spotlight," Trucy repeated pointedly, giving a look at Apollo, who hastily mustered up all the strength he possessed in his scrawny arms to shift the light to her. The girl then turned to Klavier. "I need not ask your name, good sir—I know you're Klavier Gavin! But who is your stunning—" Dare she say it? "—date?"

Klavier raised his eyebrows and gave Trucy a subtly chiding look, but maintained a perfect smile on his face. "Ema Skye, though she is not my date."

"Now, don't be shy!" The prosecutor could see that there was no swaying Trucy, and did not try, but Ema was seething in indignation.

"I think I can do better than him!" she cried.

"Better than a world-renowned rock star, whose looks are the envy of every man, and whose charm is the covet of every female? But no matter—let us begin." Trucy stifled a giggle at speaking with such… such… poise (was that the word?), such formality. Her performance-speak, if you may. "I shall make these two volunteers… disappear!"

Cue the pre-rehearsed (albeit unenthusiastic) gasp from Apollo. Even Ema was interested—she knew Trucy was more than an average magician (in fact, Ema usually ended up being pretty amazed at her professionalism), but disappearing her and a certain fop off the face of the earth? In a shabby little apartment—no stage tricks or props?

"Now, could both of you please step behind into the mist?"

Ema glanced behind her. The liquid nitrogen was filling up the stage once again, manned by a tired-looking Apollo. She walked into it. All at once, her senses were overwhelmed with the gas, as she coughed and hacked. It rose high into the air—which was impossible, wasn't it? But the detective couldn't really think—and it had nothing to do with the fact that Klavier had stumbled into her and crashed the two of them into the ground, him lying rather suggestively on top of her.

Oh damn. And she'd been doing so well not thinking about it. "Stupid, clumsy fop," she hissed.

"Ach, sorry, fräulein detective. But it certainly was not my fault that you stopped so suddenly, ja?" Gavin said as he scrambled up, and Ema could even hear the smirk in his voice.

"Yeah, whatever, glimmer boy." Ema paused for a moment as the liquid nitrogen cleared. "Er… where are we?"

"…What? The fräulein magician… Herr Forehead… where are they?"

"She really did make us vanish?"

"Ahahaha. This is all a magic trick, ja? Herr Forehead must be around somewhere to lead us out of whatever secret passage she had managed to construct."

They both looked round, but could see nothing but the two of them in a large, circular room with no furniture and, strangely enough, no color. "A door… a door…" Klavier murmured as he scanned the room once again. But all he could see—besides the rounded walls—was a thin, cold layer of mist.

"At least the liquid nitrogen is still here," Ema said. "Some sense of continuity."

It was at that moment that the two of them suddenly realized that they were alone.

Oxygen

Ema was perpetually in need of oxygen. And there is really no better way to back up this statement than to present some evidence.

Article number one: fan girls. They congregated upon the crime scene, and seemed to hyperventilate continually, gulping in copious amounts of air like a fish in need of water.

Article number two: Roses. They filled her cubicle, though not one of them had a thorn—someone must have plucked it out before giving it to her. These red roses was fine during the day, because they photosynthesized and gave out oxygen, but when she worked overtime at night, the corridor lights were turned off, and she had to make do with her desk light and her computer screen. The light failed to reach the roses—and now they only respired, taking in oxygen and releasing carbon dioxide. No oxygen for Ema, it seemed.

Article number three: Klavier Gavin. The man simply had no concept of personal space. He would lean over her when she was working, and it must have been this proximity that allowed him to somehow inhale all the oxygen in the room—why else would she be short of breath?

Fluorine

No, no and no. Why did all the stores seem to have an obsession with selling Brushers? It was a terrible name, and—in Ema's opinion—a terrible brand. The toothpaste was taking over the dental industry, and Ema hated the thought of it. What happened to good old Colgate? Oral-B? Gummer?

But the detective knew exactly what had happened. They had dropped out of popularity so drastically that only select stores in the city sold them, stores Ema had yet to find, but the reason for their absence was all too clear.

The reason for their absence was Brushers' popularity. And then reason for its popularity was the same reason Ema was not buying it.

That blue glint. That smile. That face.

Klavier Gavin made more money than she would in a lifetime, and still he wanted more of it. Why else would he agree to sponsor Brushers? The incorrigible advertisements, the ridiculous billboards, and… and… just plain foppishness! The worst thing was that everyone was buying them, because of Gavin.

"Damn, not here either." Oh, what she would give for a stick of Colgate!

Ema was very picky about her toothpaste. It had to have certain ingredients, certain colors, and a certain absence of a very annoying face that made her want to punch walls. Absently, she picked up a tube of Brushers and barely restrained from squeezing—not strangling, definitely not, because it was more than a little unhealthy for a detective to want to murder her boss, who was a prosecutor—the guts out of the tube. To compensate, she started devours Snackoos at an alarming pace, trying to force herself to return the tube back to the shelf without mutilating it.

The next thing she knew, she was out of the store, because, apparently, it was against store policy to eat inside, and to spray crumbs at the storeowner in an attempt to explain that if she didn't get her daily intake of Snackoos, she would possibly die, even if it didn't sound scientifically possible.

She looked down at the squished tube of toothpaste. Did it count as shoplifting if she was kicked out? In any case, the Brushers tube was too damaged to be returned. Ema sighed—at least the fop's face had been squished as well.

Stupid, expensive toothpaste. Since when was toothpaste expensive? (Since Klavier Gavin came along into the toothpaste industry, Ema though bitterly. Does he want to be an oral expert? Perhaps take up a third job as a dentist?) Cheap toothpaste did just as well; they had the crucial fluoride as well, and Brushers was daylight robbery.

"I hate you, Klavier Gavin," she muttered to herself. For a moment, she was aghast at her vocalization of this truth, as Gavin had the knack to appear at the oddest times, but assured herself that even for him, it was improbable that he would meet her out of work in this part of town.

"Hate me?"

No. Ema knew he was never one to miss a cue, but this was going from ridiculous to impossible. Why had he even come here? Was he stalking her?

"Fräulein detective?"

"Hello, Mr Gavin." She ground her teeth.

"My, my, what politeness. And here I was, thinking that you had just proclaimed your hatred of me?"

Ema remained silent. Brushers, she reflected, really was an okay brand—it had the right colors, the essential ingredients (most notably, fluoride, which was very important indeed). It was Gavin's face that ruined it. Ema just didn't care anymore. "Yes, I did. And unless you have some toothpaste, could you go away? Colgate, not the ridiculous one with your face on it."

"Colgate? As it happens, I came here after finishing a deal with… never mind," he hastily said as he saw the murderous look on Ema's face. I could build an entire case on that look against her, he mused, on attempted murder. "But rest assured, Brushers is safe from me. They breached a certain clause in the contract, so I have dissolved ties with them. In any case, as it happens, I do have some Colgate with me at the moment."

Ema didn't stop to wonder why he had a tube of Colgate with him, simply because he was Klavier Gavin. She reached out and took the red box, handing the damaged tube of Brushers to the amused prosecutor.

What the hell.

And yes, it was a statement.

What. The. Hell.

Ema looked up and met the foppish smile. She looked at the squished tube in his hands and met the foppish smile. And finally, she looked down at the box and met the foppish smile once more.

"Klavier Gavin… I hate you!"

Ema didn't brush her teeth that night.

Neon

Ema Skye met Klavier Gavin three times under neon lights.

She was a student in Germany, and being… a bit more eccentric than the other students, didn't, to her dismay, get along all that well with them. Not even her shamelessly happy demeanor could remedy that. Whatever social interactions she now had were with calls to Lana, Edgeworth, and Phoenix Wright. She really did try to make friends, but they shook her off, having already formed their own groups, and Ema grew more and more solitary. An independent, she often went to the convenience store to buy some snacks that she had been indulging in recently—perhaps in response to her sudden loneliness?

It so happened that it was under the neon lights of the convenience store that Ema met Klavier Gavin thrice.

The first time, he looked at her intently under the blue neon lights, as if expecting her to react somehow. When she didn't, he looked a little confused. Did she know that mysterious boy? "Er… do I know you?" she asked when he did not relent in his staring.

"Ja, you should," the teen said in immaculate English. He seemed a little irked. "But no matter. What is your name?"

So he expected her to know him, when he didn't even know her? "Er… I'm Ema Skye," she offered, nonplussed, yet happy to finally have someone to talk to, a potential—though odd—friend. "So who are you, exactly?"

"Klavier Gavin." The boy gave a smirk, and cocked his head as if expecting a reaction from his very name.

Ema cocked her head too—the name did sound vaguely familiar… "Ah!"

"Ja?"

"I do know you… heard about you at any rate," Ema began, and the teen's smirk grew satisfied. "You're that new prosecutor!"

Silence. Dead silence.

Er… was I wrong? I don't think so… Ema thought. Mr Edgeworth said that there was a new prosecutor in Germany, a seventeen-year old genius called Klavier Gavin. And not many parents would name their kid 'piano'.

Then he began to laugh. It wasn't a ridiculing laugh, but an amused one, his shoulders shaking as he bent down, tucking his hands into his pockets. "True, true," he said, looking up at her. "But not what I was expecting from a young fräulein like yourself."

And he left, leaving Ema alone in the glow of the neon lights.

The second time she met him, Ema had nursed an addiction to a singularly delicious snack known as Snackoos. This time, she was the one to approach him. "…Klavier Gavin?"

He smiled at her. "Hello, fräulein. I thought you would be here."

The way he said it made Ema think that he came here… to see her. "Yes?"

"I just wanted to tell you that I will be flying over to America for my first trial. Not bad for a seventeen year old, ja?"

Ema had met Klavier once, and he came all the way here to tell her that? But then, she supposed, as a rock star (as she had discovered) he would only have formed many superficial bonds with other people because of his fame, and he knew she was not a fan of the Gavinners. …That… would be pretty desperate of him. "I know someone who became a prosecutor at thirteen, actually. But anyway, who's the defense?"

"My bro, Kristoph. Brother against brother," he said, grinning. "This will be a trial to remember."

It was in this way that the two teens got to know each other better, and Ema grew to accept Klavier as a friend.

The third time they met under the neon lights of the store, it was under less friendly conditions. The moment Ema caught sight of Klavier, rage and betrayal filled up inside of her, and she growled, "You."

"Ja, in the flesh," he confirmed, smiling, but a little confused at her outraged expression.

"Disbarment! You disbarred Phoenix Wright for forging evidence, of all things! He would never do that!"

Klavier knew what Phoenix had done for her in the past, and looked to the side, unsmiling. "Maybe not the Phoenix you knew, but you cannot deny that he presented—"

KA-TONK!

"…Ah!"

"You jerk! How can you even say that? And to think…" she trailed off. "…Well, I hope I never have to meet you ever again, especially not as your co-worker! You… I…"

"Ema! Wait!"

The girl had stormed off in a rage, unable to even stand the sight of him.

"Please, Ema!"

And that was the end of their third meeting—that is, their third meeting in Germany.

Fate was not kind to Ema; she failed the forensics test and ended up being a detective in the precinct. But that wasn't the worst of it—Klavier Gavin was there, working at Los Angeles, and though time had abated some of her anger, he was far from forgiven.

And that was how her campaign against Klavier Gavin began—under the glow of the blue neon lights.

A/N This is something new. Doing Klema according to the elements in the periodic table, ten per chapter, and in order. It'll be a looong fic, that's for sure. Each element-oneshot will have varying lengths: compare, say, boron, to oxygen. If you disliked the length or felt a shorter length would be better, do tell. It'll be great if you guys could review me your ideas for the next ten elements—save me some trouble, would you? I realize that each element doesn't really pertain to the story, per se, but serves as more of an inspiration to me: as in, find something that the element makes, or one of its properties, and build on that. Like, the real prompt for helium could have been balloons, and the real prompt for fluorine could have been toothpaste. Tell me… Is that okay with you guys?

I think… nitrogen was the worst, then hydrogen (which was the first one I wrote, incidentally).

Hydrogen: No comment, except… it may have been a bit forced.

Helium: Balloons. Filled with helium.

Lithium: Klavier is lithium! Yay! This one may have been forced as well.

Beryllium: What was this about, again? (goes and checks) Oh right. Speakers. I was excited when I saw beryllium had good acoustics on Wikipedia, because speakers and Klavier just go together.

Boron: I liked writing this one—fireworks are just so…. Couple-y, don't you think? Amorphous boron is used for green flares in pyrotechnics.

Carbon: I knew about diamonds and carbon, obviously, but wasn't quite sure how to fit it in. Klavier calling Ema a diamond? A proposal scene? Well, the latter, but a fake one, in any case.

Nitrogen: All the elements so far had featured Klavier as being attracted to Ema—I chose a different take in this one, with both of them having no feelings for each other. I also included a more supernatural tack to it. This one is too long, and has no point. Whatsoever. It sounds like… an introduction to a multi-chaptered fic. Kudos to whoever can pull it off. Yeah, this one has no resolution, no conclusion, no Klema, and that's about it.

Oxygen: The shortest one.

Fluorine: Yes, Brushers is a made up name. As is Gummer. By the way, the original toothpaste name I had planned was ToothyCleaners, because its name was just so terrible and so hilarious, but I decided that even Klavier wouldn't sponsor a stupid brand like that. Yeah, this one is just… random.

Neon: Young!Ema and young!Klavier in Germany.