Disclaimer: Honestly, if I owned Ace Attorney, stuff like this would be canon.

Author's Notes: Hm, what to say about this fic… Well, it was primarily written for the sake of the Kristoph thread at Court Records. That and the fact that Kristoph and Phoenix have a rather interesting relationship anyway. So… This has some mild implied stuff in it. And Serious Phoenix, too, since this has several flashback-like things (which are the parts in italic, obviously).

Staggered Melody

To be honest, Klavier Gavin would have preferred to be going anywhere other than where he was going. He should have been working on his current case, anyway.

But he had too many questions about that case. Ones that he couldn't answer.

So he found himself reluctantly starting up his motorcycle, driving to the one place where he could talk to man who could answer his questions.

Phoenix sighed, idly pressing a few keys on the old, out-of-tune piano. The "restaurant" had closed up hours ago, but curious challengers did come this late on occasion. He would have far rather gone home when the Borscht Bowl Club had technically closed, but he knew he'd be going home to an empty apartment; Trucy had said something about going to a friend's house…

Standing up, the ex-attorney shook his head. It was past midnight, after all; he could come back in the morning.

As he opened the Club's door, the small bells jangled over his head; they had become so familiar that he tended to ignore them. Phoenix fumbled in his pocket for his cell phone as he leaned against the glass door, closing it—but he remembered the battery had died earlier. He frowned, having hoped that he could've gotten Apollo to wheel over one of his old bicycles. The flat tires would have at least been preferable to the public trolley…

Resignedly, Phoenix started trudging the bus stop a few blocks away, rubbing his forehead tiredly.

Klavier slowed his motorcycle to a stop, running a hand through his bangs as he looked up at the building. It wasn't really all that impressive, considering it had once been a law office—two stories, plain-looking, needed a paint job… Shrugging, the prosecutor parked his bike in front of the Agency, reluctantly chaining it to Apollo's near-full bike rack.

As Klavier raised a hand to knock, a low chuckle suddenly rang out from a few feet behind him. The man himself had apparently just gotten off the bus stop a few blocks away, and his flip flops slapped against the sidewalk as he walked.

"Oh, is this the great Klavier Gavin coming for a visit? I'm sorry I'm not more presentable. The office is also a bit of a mess."

"Nein, Herr Wright…" Klavier frowned, lowering his hand slowly. "Jumping to conclusions isn't a good idea, ja?"

"Oh, I suppose." Phoenix lowered his eyes as he unlocked the Agency's door. "Although…" He looked back up, now wearing his trademark crooked grin. "That does beg the question: Why bother at two in the morning?"

"Ach? Herr Wright, don't you know? I can't quite skip out on my office hours."

Phoenix merely chuckled again as he and Klavier entered the Agency's "lobby." Klavier blinked as Phoenix turned on the lights and sighed as he looked around. The other man spoke the truth—it had been months since Machi Tobaye's case, but the office looked just the same as it had then, perhaps even a bit messier.

"But that's still not a real answer."

Phoenix sank into one of the sagging couches, propping his feet up on the glass coffee table. Frowning, Klavier remained standing as he watched Phoenix pop off the lid on a bottle of grape juice.

"Of course it's not. I didn't finish," Klavier smirked slightly. "I can't skip my office hours… to talk to you about him."

"Him?" Phoenix took a long drink of his juice. "That could refer to a variety of people, you know."

"Achtung. I mean my brother, of course."

The dark-haired man tensed at the mention of Kristoph and remained silent for a long moment. Klavier perhaps wondered if he should have rephrased his question—but the dramatic pause admittedly made for some good suspense.

"Sit down," Phoenix eventually sighed. "I'll… talk."

Delicately, Klavier sat down on the opposite couch, bridging his fingers. He and Phoenix stared awkwardly at each other for a few moments before the older man took another drink and set his bottle down. Clearing his throat, Phoenix frowned.

"So?"

"So what? Here I thought you were going to be the one talking. I'll help you start, Herr Wright. During that case… My bro—Kristoph insinuated that you…"

"I knew all along, eh?" Phoenix laughed again, but this time it was hollow. "Really. It wasn't difficult. I knew it was all too good to be true, but I didn't let myself believe that until recently… Just think about the circumstances…"

"Pardon if this is out of line… But Herr Wright should not be held responsible if he did not know the evidence was falsified."

"Denied, Mr. Gavin. It still falls to the attorney to check their sources. Opinion of the board…?"

"Guilty!"

"It's his fault!"

"…You really believe me, amidst all this?"

"I do. Care to discuss over dinner…?"

Phoenix took another sip of grape juice. "Oh, I thought it odd—he was your brother after all. I should have known it was too convenient."

"Herr Wright…" Klavier felt his brow furrow. "What are you… Kristoph had a reason for having me bring in Herr Misham, you know."

"Oh, yes. I know. But I still knew there was something wrong. It was as if…"

"As if he were trying to keep you where he wanted you?"

"Exactly."

"Same time tomorrow, Wright?"

Kristoph smiled casually over the bottle of grape juice Phoenix had offered him. The blonde attorney carefully stood up from his chair, avoiding one of the icicles hanging out from under the table. After dusting himself off slightly, he nodded to Phoenix.

"Of course, Kristoph," Phoenix replied, idly tapping out a random tune on the piano.

"Oh? That's horrible, Wright. Here."

Kristoph's long fingers quickly reached over Phoenix's hands, depressing several of the keys. He delicately started playing a melody—Phoenix knew that he knew it from somewhere, but couldn't place it—and smiled as he stopped a few phrases later.

"Ha, ha, Kristoph. Stunning."

"Wright… Your sincerity as well as your piano playing needs work. Perhaps tomorrow night you will be able to play me something?"

Kristoph smiled again as he turned to leave. Phoenix watched the man out of the corner of his eye, and then struck a dissonant chord in irritation when the blonde was gone. Every night was a cold bowl of borscht, every night was a forced conversation, every night was too suspiciously generous—and yet Phoenix never refused.

"But didn't you…"

"Oh, I knew," Phoenix replied calmly, opening his second bottle of juice as he handed one to Klavier. "I had an idea of what had happened. It made sense—it explained why he accepted so easily that the forgery was something I was unaware of. But there was no definitive proof, and I couldn't do anything about it until recently."

"Ja." Klavier slowly pulled the lid from his grape juice, and then looked back at Phoenix. "But be honest, Herr Wright. Kristoph had us all fooled, nein?"

"Like I said before… I didn't want to believe it." Phoenix shook his head. "He was far too kind—which was a tip-off in a way, but it wasn't something you could brush off, either. I'm sure you know what I'm talking about."

"Huh. The air conditioning hasn't been repaired yet. Trucy's just about going crazy; I'm letting her stay at a friend's house, but it's been a few days."

"I see… And what about you, Wright?"

"I've gone through worse problems in the office back in the day. Don't worry."

"…Would it be too much to offer you a spare room?"

"Yes, it would. What do you…"

Kristoph's eyes smiled as he leaned forward, placing his hands on Phoenix's kitchen table. When the ex-attorney wasn't at "work," Kristoph occasionally dropped by—and on that particular day had learned of the air conditioning issues. Phoenix, meanwhile, was slowly processing the other man's offer.

"I suppose it couldn't hurt, just for a night. The repairs were scheduled for some time today, so I should be able to come back tomo…"

"Excellent."

Kristoph laid his hand over Phoenix's and briefly looked the man in the eye. Phoenix blinked instinctively and Kristoph laughed gently.

"No worries, Wright…"

"Herr Wright…"

"Don't get me wrong." Phoenix had amazingly enough downed another bottle already. "…I trusted him. But there was too much to hate in there too. He was a demon with the face of an angel, in retrospect. That incident in the Borscht Bowl Club just nailed his coffin shut, so to speak. You could say he's finally atoning. Seeing him in prison was the best and worst that I've seen of him."

Klavier nodded, setting down his still-half-full bottle. "I see…"

"Hm? Was I not much of a help?"

Blinking as he stood up, Klavier shook his head. "Nein, Herr Wright, I just… thank you. That melody rang familiar, but it was reassuring nonetheless."

"Ah, a compliment indeed. Perhaps you're even more angelic than your brother?"

"Nein!" Klavier protested instantly. "Herr Wright, please. Perhaps I should have asked Herr Forehead!"

"No, you shouldn't have," Phoenix replied in a sing-song tone, apparently oblivious to how serious he'd been only a few moments ago. "Then I wouldn't have gotten to see you blushing as much as you are right now."

"…Good night, Herr Wright."

Klavier straightened his jacket as he headed for the door, perhaps walking a bit too quickly. However, as much as he would deny it later, Phoenix had been far more helpful than he'd let him know.