Klavier Gavin pulled up in front of the office building, stopped his bike, and removed his helmet. He looked at the sign in front; he knew, beneath the blue tarp, it read, "Wright & Co. Law Offices". But he was no longer a lawyer and could not advertise as such. The fact that he'd taken action to comply with this aspect of his disbarment impressed the young prosecutor; it didn't happen often, but he knew that when a lawyer was disbarred, he usually dragged his feet while he filed his appeals.

However, Phoenix Wright wasn't behaving as a disbarred attorney should. There was nothing typical about his actions. He'd made no effort to defend himself during that fateful trial. He made a minimal defense during his hearing with the Bar Association Review Board. His only comment to the overbearing reporters who wanted to know what could drive a moral man like Phoenix Wright to forge evidence was a quiet, "No comment." The only legal action he was taking was an effort to take permanent custody of the abandoned Trucy Enigmar, and he was doing even that as quietly as he possibly could.

Even more confusing was that Klavier's own brother and informant, Kristoph Gavin, was representing Wright in those efforts. Pro bono.

Something wasn't right, and Klavier couldn't relax until he understood what was going on in Wright's head. He was angry that his first trial was ruined by this fiasco, angry that Wright had deigned to try to cheat the court like that. But he wasn't a nasty person; he was concerned as well. Law was the man's life; Klavier knew damn well that, right know, Wright was devestated. Klavier feared for the man's safety.

And there was something else. Something pressing, something that made Klavier fear that he had made a very, very bad mistake. Something that he needed put to ease before he could move on himself.

The only person who could ease his mind about either of these subjects was Phoenix Wright. So here he was, at the Wright & Co. Law Offices, trying to get up the courage to walk up to the door and knock. This is stupid, Klavier told himself. Why is this so intimidating? He doesn't scare me. I tore him to pieces in court!

That was precisely why this was so intimidating. He tore Phoenix Wright to pieces. He shattered the man's life. He deserved it, of course-

Does he? He made a mistake borne of arrogance. Well-earned arrogance, at that. He needed to be brought down a few pegs, but...

Klavier shook his doubt from his mind and got off his motorcycle. Before he had a chance to ruminate more, he walked up the well-kept path to the office's front door, and knocked firmly.

It was only moments before the door was opened. Phoenix was slightly disheveled, his normally well-kept spiky black hair a bit of a mess, the first two buttons of his dress-shirt undone, and he looked like he hadn't shaved in a couple of days. "Prosecutor Gavin," Phoenix said, genuinely surprised. "What can I help you with?"

"I wish to speak with you, Herr Wright."

Phoenix stared at the younger man, his expression a mix of curiosity and suspicion. Then, after a moment of thought, he stepped aside to allow Klavier in.

Klavier looked around the reception area, impressed. It appeared that Phoenix was in the middle of packing things up, probably old case files. He wouldn't need them anymore; at least, not on-hand. As Phoenix closed the door behind them, he said, "I apologize for the mess and lack of refreshments. My assistant is away in personal business at the moment and probably won't be returning now. I can make you some tea, though, if you like."

"You're quite a gracious host," Klavier replied. "No, it's fine. This shouldn't take long."

"Alright. What did you want to talk to me about?"

Phoenix crossed his arms over his chest, looking at the blond man expectantly. Klavier looked him straight in the eyes, fighting down his discomfort. "I am ninety-nine percent sure you are guilty of forging that evidence, Herr Wright," he said firmly. "The circumstances all point to that conclusion."

"But that one percent that you're not sure of bothers you."

Klavier was slightly taken aback and flinched. Was he that easy to read? He hoped that Phoenix hadn't seen that reaction and put it out of his head. "Yes. It bothers me greatly. I thought I'd come here and get it straight from the horse's mouth. Did you order that forgery, Phoenix Wright?"

Phoenix replied instantly, his blue eyes locked with Klavier's, no hesitation or guilt in them. "No."

"Then why haven't you tried to defend yourself?"

Again, Phoenix's answer was instant. "Because I can't prove it."

"I don't understand," Klavier said, almost petulantly. "If you're truly innocent, why aren't you fighting? Your life has been destroyed and you're just sitting back and letting it happen! You, of all people, should be able to prove it, if you truly are innocent!"

Phoenix chuckled slightly, finally breaking eye contact. "I wasn't clear, Mr. Gavin. I apologize. I am innocent, but I can't prove it yet."

"What-"

"It's simple," Phoenix cut him off, looking up at him again. "You're right when you say that my life has been destroyed, but you're insane if you think I'm just 'sitting back and letting it happen'. I've already made some progress in my investigation, but it's going to take a very, very long time. Speak up too soon, speak up before I can back up my words, and it's all over. As things stand, at least I still have the option to speak and be listened to."

Klavier stared at him, wide-eyed. "You're investigating this incident still?"

"Yes, I am. And the day I was disbarred, I swore to myself that I would get to the bottom of everything- Gramarye's death, that forged evidence, all of it- if it was the last thing I ever did. And I meant it. Even if no one else ever finds out the truth, I have to."

The prosecutor looked away, swallowing hard. "I see. Well, that answers my second concern."

"And that was?"

"Your mental state, Herr Wright."

"E-excuse me?"

Klavier looked back at him; he had raised his eyebrows, and was looking at the blond man expectantly. "I feared this was enough of a shock to you, that you might be a danger to yourself. I also wanted to ensure that you had not and weren't likely to harm yourself."

Phoenix laughed. Klavier was, again, taken aback. The disgraced attorney got control of his laughter quickly and shook his head. "I assure you, Mr. Gavin, that suicide has never once crossed my mind," he said firmly, making eye contact again. "I'm trying to get full legal custody of a child, for God's sake. I'd be an idiot to hurt myself in any way, even if I was considering it. You needn't worry about that."

"That's a relief to hear, Herr Wright," Klavier replied honestly.

"Now then," Phoenix said, standing up straight. "You said you were ninety-nine percent sure I was guilty when you first came in. How do you feel now? How sure of my guilt are you now?"

The young prosecutor looked away. "Ninety-seven."

"... I see. I'm sorry I couldn't help you with that part of it."

There was something distasteful, slightly mocking in Phoenix's last statement. Something slightly triumphant. "It was my second concern that was more important to me anyway," he said abruptly.

"Really? I'm touched, Prosecutor Gavin."

The blond man sighed. "I suppose I have taken up enough of your time, Herr Wright," he said finally. "Thank you for speaking with me. If you'll excuse me..."

"Hold it, Gavin."

Klavier looked up at Phoenix again. "Ja, Herr Wright?"

Phoenix, again, forced eye contact. "It's my turn to ask a question," he said, fiddling with something in his pocket.

"I'm listening."

"If I were to provide you with enough evidence to make you seriously question whether I forged that evidence or not," he said slowly, "would you listen to me?"

Klavier nodded firmly. "If you could show me enough evidence of your innocence, Herr Wright, I would go so far as to advocate for you. I'm not in this for glory, I get enough of that as the frontman for the Gavineers. I do this for the truth. And no one wants to know the truth of this case more than I."

"I believe I want the truth more than you do," Phoenix replied with a wry grin, "but very well. I'll hold you to that, Mr. Gavin."

"Feel free. I'm a man of my word, Herr Wright. Was that all you wanted to ask?"

Phoenix nodded absently. "Yes. Thank you for dropping by."

"Thank you for the chat," Klavier replied, and was gone.

The disgraced attorney stared at the door, drawing the magatama out of his pocket. Maya told him to keep it for as long as he needed it, and use it as much as he needed to. "So you'd be my advocate, huh?" Phoenix said softly. "Huh. Good to know." He set the magatama down on Maya's desk and looked over the box, trying to figure out where he had been when the young man had interrupted him.

"Herr Wright."

Phoenix looked away from his show, automatically hitting the pause button. "Mr. Gavin," Phoenix said in surprise, with a slight grin. "Long time no see. How goes it?"

The prosecutor bore a card and a bottle of grape juice, one that looked to be quite expensive. "It goes well," he said, setting the card and bottle down on a side table. "Better than it goes for you, it appears."

Phoenix chuckled. "Nah. It's just a sprained ankle."

"I find it hard to believe that the clinic would hold you for two days if it was just a sprained ankle."

"That's because of how I got the sprain." Phoenix smirked as Klavier pulled a chair up next to his bed.

Klavier nodded. "So I hear from Detective Skye," he said. "I'll have you know, Herr Wright, that I almost had to have her arrested for assault over you. I thought she was going to murder me when we discussed you."

"So it is her," Phoenix mused. "I wonder when she actually got back to the States... but what do you mean, you thought she was going to murder you?"

The prosecutor shifted nervously in his seat. "She did some investigating as to your current state," he said uncomfortably, "and discovered the incident that you were disbarred over."

"I see."

"As a matter of interest, I also found out about your accident from Detective Skye. Were you really thrown thirty feet?"

"Uh-huh," Phoenix confirmed, almost looking proud of that. "I also went head-first into a telephone pole, you know."

Klavier winced. "Fascinating. It seems that the stories of your divine luck were not exaggerated. You're lucky to even be alive, after that kind of impact."

"Yes, well... that's why I'm here instead of at home," Phoenix replied. "Doctor Hickfield, apparently, doesn't believe in 'luck' and wants to ensure that I have no internal injuries that are hiding." As Klavier made a face at the mention of the doctor, Phoenix chuckled. "The real doctor, not the dirty old man." There was a moment of silence, and then Phoenix asked, "So did you come here simply to wish me a speedy recovery, or can I help you with something?"

"Both," Klavier said. "Do you remember our last conversation, Herr Wright? Seven years ago?"

"I'm afraid not," Phoenix replied with a wicked smile. "You'll have to refresh my memory."

He remembers damn well, Klavier thought to himself, but humored him. "I was in the gallery for your murder trial two months ago," he said. "I never miss one of my brother's trials if I can help it, although I didn't know you were the defendant in this case."

"I see."

Klavier took a deep breath. "After your acquittal, I procured the records of the trial, all of them. I also obtained Kristoph's own records of the times he has represented you."

Klavier expected Phoenix to react badly to this; that was privileged information, and Klavier had no business looking at those records without a damn good reason. Phoenix only nodded and said, "And?"

"I am now only about seventy-five percent sure, Herr Wright."

"Why?"

"I cannot say," Klavier said slowly. "But I was hoping I could see the evidence you've gathered over these seven years. There is surely quite a bit by now."

"There's nothing decisive, Mr. Gavin."

"Even so. I want the truth. Now more than ever."

Phoenix eyed him; Klavier was reminded of that conversation, so long ago. The disbarred attorney had regarded him in much the same manner: curious and suspicious. Finally, he said, "If the good doctor won't release me tomorrow, I plan on signing myself out against medical advice. Stop by the office after the trial. I'll give you a copy of most of the file."

"Most of it?"

"I can't show you my whole hand before I'm ready, now can I?" Phoenix grinned.

"Very well, Herr Wright. You're on. I'll see you then."

"Good. Good luck tomorrow, Mr. Gavin," Phoenix said with that wicked grin. "You'll need it."

"Wh-what?"

Phoenix tilted his head. "Your opponent, Apollo Justice... is a genius. Or did you not realize that by watching my trial?"

"Sorry, I didn't get a chance to evaluate his performance. You didn't give him a chance to provide one."

The disbarred attorney laughed. "Well, you'll definitely be able to tomorrow, won't you?"

"Indeed. Get well soon, Herr Wright."

Klavier closed the file that Phoenix had allowed him to look over, staring at the wall. "Well? Your verdict, Mr. Gavin?"

Flatly, the prosecutor said, "I don't know what to think anymore."

"I'll give you a hint: I didn't do it."

Klavier sighed and placed the file back on Phoenix's desk. This portion of the office was almost as messy as the reception area, but it was clearly off-limits to his foster-daughter. This was entirely his own mess. "You've certainly made a case for that assertion," he said slowly, "but as you said yesterday: there is nothing decisive. This is stupid... there is plenty there to cast more than reasonable doubt on your guilt, and yet it means nothing, because that's all it does. Cast reasonable doubt."

"Frustrating, isn't it?" Phoenix said absently. "It is practically impossible to prove a negative. I cannot prove my innocence without proving who really did it, and I can't prove that, either. It's been too long." After a pause, he said, "But I'm not sure I understand, Mr. Gavin. After my trial, you claim you were less sure of my guilt than you ever have been. Why? Surely you had to know that card was forged."

Klavier looked up, shaking his head. "That was my initial thought," he admitted, "although I did not blame you. You were literally fighting for your life, and you're no longer bound by ethics. I'd have been pulling every dirty trick I could think of, too, if I was accused of murder and knew I hadn't done it. However... you do not know this, since you didn't attend my brother's trial, but one of the pieces of evidence presented against him was that bloody ace. The real one."

"He kept it?" Phoenix seemed surprised.

"Indeed, he did."

"What an idiot," Phoenix muttered.

Klavier shrugged. "Who knows why he would keep it instead of destroying it," Klavier said mildly. "The point is that, upon discovery of that bloody ace, yours was no longer regarded as a forgery. It was simply a replication. Not acceptable in a court of law as evidence, but not illegal and more ethically gray. And then, knowing what I did about the forged page..."

Klavier's voice trailed off. "What did you know about that?" Phoenix asked softly.

For a moment, Klavier looked as though he were an animal caught in headlights. And then he answered, sighing, "My informant, the one who told me that you were going to present forged evidence... was Kristoph Gavin."

Klavier expected a different reaction from the other man; a small level of surprise, at least. But Phoenix only nodded. "I thought so," he mused. Then, abruptly, he sat forward, his blue eyes intense. "You told me that if I gave you enough evidence to prove my innocence, you would advocate for me," he said softly. "I have an idea, but I can't do it alone. Will you help me?"

"What is this idea?"

"Are you familiar with the Jury System?"

Klavier blinked. "Of course. It is an archaic legal system in which court cases were decided by twelve random citizens who heard the evidence and handed down their verdict unanimously."

"That's right. And in a criminal case, what was their standard for deciding guilt or innocence?"

Klavier's eyes widened. "Reasonable doubt," he said softly. "Herr Wright, you're not proposing what I think you are!"

"I am," Phoenix returned. "Of course, there would be alterations, since that system eventually collapsed under its own weight. I've already started designing it." As he spoke, Phoenix opened a drawer in his desk and produced a plain, wire-bound notebook. "Have a look." As Klavier flipped through the notebook, his eyes scanning the pages in growing fascination, Phoenix continued, "It would be far from a legal decision, but if we were to proceed a mock trial of the Gramarye murder trial where it was stopped, even with the forged evidence, I'm sure it would get the media's attention."

"You'd be able to present the evidence in your defense in order to continue the trial," Klavier said, amazed.

"Exactly. And it may clear my client's name, as well, even if it's not a legal decision."

Klavier nodded. "I'll see what I can do," he said. "May I take this notebook, Herr Wright? I would like to clean it up and put it into a professional presentation. I've a better chance at getting my foot in the door with a real presentation than I do with a battered spiral notebook."

"Go ahead; but I will need the notebook back. And let me see the presentation before you present it to anyone, if you will."

"You got it, Herr Wright. I'll be back in a few days."

Months passed. Klavier got Phoenix's foot in the door; Justice's last trial only gave them more ammunition to get the Judiciary to consider this new system. The two of them, together, were making progress, until they finally agreed to let them go through with the mock trial. Phoenix would "play" himself, as would Klavier; up until that forged evidence was presented, they would follow the court transcript exactly. It was perfect.

And then Drew Misham was murdered. Phoenix knew and called Klavier before he knew the victim's name. "We've got to get an emergency hearing," Phoenix said, urgently.

"What are you-"

"Drew Misham. The man who created that forged evidence."

"Yes, and? Herr Wright, what are you-"

"He's dead, Mr. Gavin. Murdered." Klavier went silent, suddenly understanding Phoenix's urgency. "That mock trial? Yeah, it's got to happen now, and it's got to be real. It's go time, Mr. Gavin. Get me in to talk to the Judiciary board as quickly as possible, and gag this case as hard as you can. This is it. This is how I'm going to nail him, Klavier."

"... Al-alright. I'll do what I can, Herr Wright."

Klavier sat next to Vera's bedside, listening to the steady beep of the monitors and the rise and fall of the respirator. Atroquinine poisoning was deadly. No one ever survived it.

"Klavier."

He didn't turn. "Ja, Herr Wright."

"You know who's responsible for this, don't you? You must've pieced it together."

"I have. Herr Forehead can't prove it."

"He doesn't have to."

At that reminder, Klavier turned to face the other man. Phoenix continued, "How sure are you of my guilt now, Klavier Gavin?"

The blond prosecutor swallowed hard, the icy grip of what he knew now squeezing his head. "Zero percent."

"You know I'm innocent."

"I know. I'm sorry."

Phoenix knelt next to the chain, gazing at the fallen defendant. "You said you'd advocate for me," he told the prosecutor softly.

"So I did. This is hardly the time," was the quiet reply.

Phoenix chuckled, the noise mirthless and flat. "This is the perfect time. Looks like you haven't connected all of the dots quite yet."

Klavier bristled at this, turning to glare down at his companion. "And what does that mean?"

"Nothing. I need to speak to your brother. This will be the last time."

"… very well. I'll call the pen ahead and tell them to let you right through."

"Thank you."

Klavier's gaze followed the dark-haired man as he rose, brushed a lock of hair from Vera's face, and left the room. It was more than reasonable doubt now. It was undeniable.

But it was also wholly circumstantial. Klavier was in for the fight of his life, as was Apollo and Phoenix. If this didn't work, the truth would never be heard and Kristoph would get away with it all.

He rose from his seat, murmured a few words of encouragement to Vera, and left to prepare himself for battle.