DISCLAIMER: I don't own the Ace Attorney series or its characters. Capcom does. I think you already knew that.
Well, hi there, everybody! :D I'm Super Grape Pie, and, uh…this is the first Ace Attorney fanfic that I've actually finished. Originally, this was for the PW Kink Meme and I really didn't want to de-anon for this story, but the comments I got for the story were really awesome, so I figured I'd de-anon just this once. :P Here's the prompt:
"After replaying AJ, I'm dying for some Apollo/Klavier friendship fluff. No romance, no sex, no UST. Just two guys who like and respect one another, being friends."
So I was like, "awesome, I can do that!" And I did. But not without help! My sister Moonside Mango beta'd this (so much so that I wanted to give her credit. XD) So this is technically a collab between me and her.
Aaanyways, I'mma stop talking so you can read! So, without further ado, enjoy!
--
"Ahem," coughed the Judge, as stoic as usual, "We have received the jurists' decisions. If there are no further objections…"
Come on, say it…
"I declare the defendant, Mr. Plato Nicholson…"
Almost there…
"Not guilty!"
As per usual, the crowd went wild. I couldn't help but bask in the glory a little bit as I began to pack up all of the files I'd brought with me. I didn't even mind the little bits of confetti getting stuck in my hair. Was it just my imagination, or was the crowd chanting my name? Hey, maybe next time they'll give me a cool slogan. Something like—"Justice will prevail!" or "There goes Justice!" Or—hey, wait a second. Who brings confetti to a courtroom, anyway!?
N…nevermind. No use worrying after court's been adjourned. I took a quick glance across the room to see Mr. Winston Payne, who looked about ready to call it a day. It was the fourth time this month that I'd beaten him in a case—now every time I open my mouth during a trial, he looks at me like a cow looks at an oncoming train.
Cow faces or not, court had only gotten more and more boring with each passing day. No more crazy witnesses, nothing to perceive, no more air guitar solos in the middle of a testimony, or badly-pronounced German words and phrases being casually flung around…
…Maybe I just got too used to Prosecutor Gavin, always smiling like the fop that he was.
But…It's been a while since I've heard from him. After his brother's death sentence, he just…disappeared. Last I heard, the Gavinners had broken up, and he claimed he's taking a leave of absence from anything remotely law-related. Sometimes…I wonder if he's ever coming back.
"Polly…Earth to Apollo!" A nearby voice giggled. My little sister Trucy was tugging on my sleeve, jarring me from my train of thought, "It's time to go! You look pretty silly just standing around in an empty courtroom."
"Huh? O—oh yeah! Sorry. Let's go," I said with a nod. Hastily, I grabbed all of my case files that were left and carelessly stuffed them into the little leather briefcase Mr. Wright had lent me. (I can organize everything when I get home—it's not like there's anything else to do.)
Grabbing my free hand, Trucy happily skipped out of the empty courtroom with me in tow. For some reason, I couldn't help but take a glance back to make sure I wasn't forgetting anything before we left.
We made our way to the entrance, where the halls were buzzing with gossip. I couldn't pay much attention to what everyone was talking about, though. Trucy started pulling on my sleeve again.
"Hey, Polly! Daddy said he was gonna get pizza from that new place down the street tonight."
"Huh—oh, that was nice of him," I replied listlessly in monotone.
"If you want, you can come over, too!" Trucy cheered, "I'm sure Daddy wouldn't mind. Last time we ordered two extra pizzas because there was a discount…I can't believe we ate the whole thing! Daddy was kinda green afterwards, though."
"Sounds fun, but I, uh, have some…important lawyer stuff to do," I fibbed.
"Aw, come on! Even I can tell you're lying! You never make eye contact when you lie!"
"Uh, well, I just…"
"Okay," Trucy continued, unperturbed, "But just in case you change your mind, we'll save a box for you!"
We said our goodbyes, and I watched her begin her walk home. She's lucky she doesn't live too far away. As for me…I still had a long bike ride home which I wasn't looking forward to. Then again, maybe Stephanie wouldn't mind a detour today…
Sh-shut up! I can name my bike whatever I want!
--
People Park is always kind of quiet around mid-afternoon, so I figured I'd take a ride there. For the past few weeks, I'd just been hanging around there to pass the time. I-It might sound weird, but…something's just been telling me to go here. I dunno what it is, but…I guess it wouldn't hurt to just relax for a bit …Who knows, maybe they'll even have that funnel cake stand up again today! That'd be nice…
Once I'd biked my way past the park entrance gate and onto the neatly-paved sidewalks, I hopped off of Stephanie, being careful not to fall off. Sometimes she likes to trip me with her stupid pedals and then I fall flat on my face. (Call me crazy, but I could swear that every time I fall over I can actually hear her laughing at me. Uh, or maybe I just need to see a doctor.)
After that long bike ride, I plopped, exhausted, onto a nearby bench. It always feels good to sit down after exercising…especially on a day like that, when the breeze is just cool enough to be refreshing. The scenery in People Park can really be quite breathtaking in the autumn; with each individual leaf like a tiny paper lantern, winking in the breeze (when did I get so poetic?). All the ducks were swimming in the water, and couples were walking happily around the park, enjoying the last good weather of the year while they could. In fact, my only qualm was the utter lack of funnel cake.
Well, that, and the fact that I was being watched by this really depressed looking blonde guy. Most of his face was covered by a newspaper that he'd been reading, but he looked up shiftily every few seconds…It was kind of awkward.
But two could play at this game. I hastily ran over to the yellow newspaper dispenser across the sidewalk from me, stuffed in a quarter, and grabbed an issue of the local paper…Once I sat back down, I opened it up, taking a quick glance at the blonde guy again, who, oddly enough, was now staring at me attentively.
"Just ignore him, Justice…" I thought, flipping through the newspaper's pages. In an attempt to try and find the comics, though, I ended up being engrossed in another article that stood out like a sore thumb once I saw the title.
"Klavier Gavin: Returning to Law?"
My eyes widened. I skimmed the text to try and find any hint that stated when he was coming back.
"…The rock star-prosecutor, whose brother had recently been jailed, neither confirms nor denies plans to leave the prosecutor's office, though his colleagues have claimed that Gavin's office has been completely packed up for the past couple of weeks. The Times will keep readers posted about this event, and…"
My hands tightened into fists, crumpling the newspaper a tiny bit. That article had to have been some kind of lie! Prosecutor Gavin was coming back! He had to be! …Right?
At that moment, I caught a glimpse of that blonde guy putting down his newspaper after staring at me for the umpteenth time…What scared me a bit more was that he stood up and began walking towards my bench…
What terrified me was then when I finally got a closer look, I realized who Depressed-Looking Blonde Guy actually was.
"Forehead? That you?"
…I think I just about jumped out of my skin when he called my name.
"P-prosecutor Gavin!" I exclaimed, overly enthusiastic at the prospect of being able to find out the truth about his disappearance. On the other hand, Prosecutor Gavin looked…pale. Sad. It was almost cringe-inducing to have to look at him like this.
"Ah, so it is you, Forehead! It's been a while!"
"Yeah! It's really great to see you again!" I smiled, "Did you want to sit down?" To my surprise, he shook his head no. (Or maybe nein, in his case.)
"I was actually about to go for a walk around the park. Would you like to join me? It'd be good to chat about old times, ja?"
Old times!? It's only been a few months! I thought with a grimace. Still, it was as good an opportunity as any to finally find out what in the heck he'd been up to. "Sure," I answered simply, shrugging in an attempt to hide my intense curiosity.
And with that, we were off. Prosecutor Gavin mentioned some kind of newly-made plaza in the park where you could see a whole bunch of colorful fall trees, courtesy of the Kitakis. He mentioned something about it being on the other side of the park…I wasn't so much interested in the park now as I was in waiting to hear his story.
For a while, we just strolled along in silence, until something suddenly made Prosecutor Gavin's face break into a grin—a grin that made me wonder how many times a day the guy whitened his teeth.
"You know, whenever I come here, I'm always reminded of the day I met Fräulein Trucy and yourself."
"O-oh, yeah, I remember that…Trucy thought you were some kind of motorcycle riding prince." Hearing that, the prosecutor couldn't help but laugh a little conceitedly.
"Not terribly surprising," he said, tossing his hair back and laughing.
Oh, right. I forgot how in his mind, he is a motorcycle-riding prince.
"Anyway," I changed the subject just slightly, "We were really surprised when we found out you were a prosecutor."
"It was quite a shock for me, as well! I never imagined that you two would be the defense," Prosecutor Gavin agreed.
"Well, who else would have been hanging around a crime scene like that?"
"…Tabloid photographers, perhaps?"
"Y-you've got to be kidding me…" I thought.The palm of my hand hit my face as soon as he'd said that.
"Did we really look like tabloid photographers?"
"Well, you certainly didn't look like lawyers," the prosecutor chuckled.
…I give up, I thought with a sigh, and we continued to walk quietly for a while. But now that I thought about it…
"…You know, I'm glad, though."
"Hm?"
"I'm glad I was able to meet you," I said, grinning broadly.
And for whatever reason, he looked completely shocked to hear that. He stayed quiet for a long time.
Then there was the occasional bit of small talk—but he still kept acting like I'd just uttered some kind of crass 'Your Mom' joke in German or something.
After what felt like hours, we made it to the plaza. To my surprise, it was completely packed—tourists and couples everywhere—and the funnel cake stand had moved to a new location. I couldn't help whooping for joy at the thought of deep-fried goodness, and quickly excused myself for a moment to order one freshly-made. Prosecutor Gavin shrugged—I guess he's not a fan.
Being the nice guy I am, though, I still offered to share. I broke off a piece of the sugar-covered golden-brown treat for him—"Pretty good, right?" I asked.
"…Not bad," he said as soon as he'd finished. My mouth was stuffed to its maximum capacity, so I just gave him a thumbs-up.
…and then he went ahead and helped himself to another huge piece while my mouth was still full.
"Eey, dun tay so muff!" I said, trying my best not to choke.
"Sorry, I don't speak Forehead," he replied with a mischievous smile, "Besides, you said I could take as much as I wanted, didn't you?"
I swallowed. "Objection! I said you could have some, not the whole thing!"
"And have you any evidence to back up your claim, Herr Forehead? Or are you as unprepared here as you usually are in the courtroom?" the prosecutor folded his arms and smirked.
"Well, if you'd just let me cross-examine a witness—" I protested. Prosecutor Gavin laughed.
"Always the lawyer, aren't you, Forehead?"
"I could say the same thing about you."
There was a sudden, uncomfortable silence.
"Uh, should I be apologizing or something?" I scratched my face awkwardly.
Prosecutor Gavin shook his head nein again. "Come, Forehead. Let's talk."
I gulped. At least it looked like he was finally going to answer all of my questions.
"You do know that I can't keep on doing this forever, right?"
"Huh…? What're you even talking about?" I asked.
"You read it in today's paper, did you not?" he questioned nonchalantly, waving it off as though it were nothing.
I nearly dropped my funnel cake. "Wait, you don't mean--"
He nodded and simply said, "I need to get out of this place. Too many bad memories, ja? It's throwing off my groove—"
"What!?"
"My groove. The rhythm in which I live my life; my pattern of behavior."
I couldn't believe it.
He really did want to leave this place. He didn't want to go back to prosecuting at all.
"So…you're really leaving…" I trailed off.
"I haven't really made too many plans yet, but yes. I should be departing in a month or so."
"Where will you go?" I asked, brow furrowing.
"Home, most likely. I'll probably stay there a while…maybe a year or two, until I can start to rock and roll on greener pastures, so to speak."
I couldn't say anything. My head was hurting from all the questions.
Before he could finish whatever he was about to say, Prosecutor Gavin's cell phone rang. I only watched as he casually answered.
"Ach, they're here already?" he asked into the phone, "All right, tell them to start. I'll be there in a bit." As he hung up and stuck the phone back into his pocket, he turned back to me, looking almost dejected.
"It seems the movers came early to pack up my office."
"…Oh."
"Anyway, I'd better get back there," he changed his tone, "Wouldn't want them to damage any of my guitars."
"So…I probably won't see you again."
He nodded and said, "Ja. I suppose this is goodbye, Forehead. It's been fun. Tell Herr Wright and Fräulein Trucy I said 'Auf Wiedersehen,' if you could."
He began to walk away. "Thanks for the funnel cake," he added without turning back.
"W…wait a second!" I called, but he ignored me.
My confusion was rapidly turning into rage. I balled up the funnel cake, plate and all, and tossed it aside. "So that's it!? You're just gonna walk away from…from everything!? Your job is here! Your whole life is here! You're a prosecutor, dammit!"
I punched a lamppost for emphasis. Not one of my brightest ideas—I clenched my swollen hand to my chest while muttering a string of obscenities. Crud…that was my pointing hand, too…and it was all that Gavin's fault—damn it!
All of the pleasant chatter around us had died down. I could feel the crowd staring at me. It was a bit embarrassing, actually, but at least I'd gotten Prosecutor Gavin's attention. He finally turned around to face me.
"Put some ice on it. It'll be fine," he said hollowly.
"F…forget it," I said, unable to make eye contact. "Didn't you hear any of the other things I was saying?"
"I've already packed up, there's nothing I can--"
"Don't lie! You just unpack everything! And if you needed any help, you just ask! It's not that hard!"
The onlookers stared back at the prosecutor, waiting with baited breath to see what his response would be.
"It's not that simple, Forehead! You don't understand—my brother—"
"Yes, I do! I looked up to him, too! But I have friends here to help me, and so do you!"
"Tell me, then, who are these 'friends'? Name me one, Apollo Justice!"
"I would," I answered back, finally able to look him in the eye again, "But you've already named him."
"…What?"
"I consider you a friend, Klavier. So does Trucy. So do Mr. Wright and Detective Skye, for that matter! And that's why you can't just…uh…"
I stopped. Prosecutor Gavin was...smiling.
"What!? What's so funny?" I asked indignantly.
"Apollo Justice…" he clapped me on the back, "I'm glad I was able to meet you, too."
The crowd broke into applause. Talk about embarrassing.
"Now, come, my friend. We've got some heavy lifting to do."
I gulped.
--
…Um, I don't really have much else to say besides "YOU ROCK FOR READING THIS.", so I'mma just leave it at that. Oh! And, uh, reviews are cool, too! Feel free to leave one of those if you liked the story or have some constructive criticism, either way is fine! Mango and I would really appreciate it. :D
Thank you so much for reading!