A/N: DANKE (See what I did there? ^^) to all [three] of you who reviewed! I am a confident girl once more! :D So hopefully, my reviews will multiply like bunnies so I can see you seething with anticipation! }:D

My God… THIS CHAPTER. IS TOO. FRIKKEN. LONG. I really wanted to make a break-off point, but I realized I couldn't. ^^' So if this chapter drags on, I apologize.

One thing that I probably should have pointed out from chapter Zero is that this story is kinda a romance/mystery/suspense hybrid. I'm generally good at suspense (which is not horror, so I didn't categorize it as such), but… IT WASN'T A GENRE! D: And I feel that it is more mystery than suspense, so there you go. So… yeah… there's GOING to be a minimum of one gory scene in this story, but it's not, like, shit-your-pants-scary, but it's suspenseful… y'know? That being said, if you're not up for that, I'm going to say that there's going to be a cut-off point, so don't keep reading unless you're willing to stomach that (…or the atrocious way I'm probably gonna write it -.-'). Since I'm disclaiming already, I'm going to say that the reason I think this story is poo is because I'm adding new elements in this story that I've never tried, like a gore scene and (possible!) sex-ish stuff... I know that there is going to be allusions to sex-ish stuff, but I won't actually write about it… not unless people want to, y'know? And another reason's cuz I think I'm introducing things too damned fast…

That in itself is kinda a disclaimer to how creepy-slash-sadistic I can do… as this chapter will attest to, 'cause this stuff's been pretty cute so far; pretty Fluffy, y'know? but it's not anymore. After chapter, what? five? it won't be anymore. Jus' sayin'. Enjoy the Fluff until it floats away.

But, by all means, keep reviewing (especially your opinions on the likely gore and possible sensual stuff)!


Chapter Three: What Was Left Behind


July 23, 2027—4:42PM

"So, Apollo, now I must ask: what was your life like?" Klavier asked in front of the crimson clad attorney as he led the way. "You speak fairly little about yourself."

I could say the same thing… Apollo groaned inwardly. "I don't like to talk about myself too much." He muttered finally.

"Aw… but c'mon Polly! I don't even know too much about you!" Trucy smiled, bouncing lightly. "And we're brother and sister now! I have a right to know!"

The older platinum blonde snapped his fingers, probably to the sound of whatever song was in his head. "As do I. Come now, Herr Forehead, sing the song of your past, as you had made me." He stopped before one of the doors, allowing time for the attorney to 'sing his song.'

Apollo sighed; there was no escape. He attempted to make it as simple as possible, and yet, knowing the two before him, the whole truth would never slip by. Especially not to the prosecutor. "I… I don't remember anything of my life before I was orphaned. I was too young; apparently, I was only five. After that, I was raised in an orphanage until they let me go when I was thirteen. They said once I became a teenager, I 'wasn't adoptable,' because no one tries to adopt a teenager. I got a workable job at sixteen and… had to get myself a house. It's still a load of crap to this day, and that's why I don't want you two to see it."

"No one took you in?" Klavier's face laced in a sort of pity.

"Not really. When they did, they'd send me back because I was so difficult and I already knew what I wanted to do with my life. Jeez, can't a kid want to be a defense attorney when they're eight?" He sighed. "Nothing was wrong with each family except for one sole thing they each had in common: they wanted me to be something other than what I wanted. So I'd bitch and whine until they sent me back. Then… I got older and had to leave."

Klavier's eyes were bright and warm again. "Wow… so Phoenix Wright was your inspiration?"

"Yeah… well, first it was people like Mia Fey and this cool-cat attorney that was… Diego-something… but ever since Phoenix started his career, I've managed to follow him in his courtroom journeys via the media. …My life isn't all too interesting, okay?" He then noticed the platinum blonde's hand resting on the closed door before him. Unlike all of the other richly wooden doors, this particular door was black, with a 'KEEP OUT' sign, as well as 'DO NOT CROSS' tape wrapped around it, and… drawings? There was one of a band rocking the stage, another of the Grim Reaper, and the last was an intimidating-looking picture of Klavier and Kristoph with 'You have not a warrant to enter here' written on it. Kristoph had his hand pushing up his glasses, and as such the glare obscured his icy eyes. Klavier looked like the average mischievous rocker: his head was cocked up, a maniacally mischievous look on his face, his tongue twisted out. The coloring made it appear dark; Kristoph looked normal but Klavier—knowing his sweet nature—looked strange. "So, um… this is your room, Klavier?"

"What gave it away?" He chuckled as he asked sarcastically. "The 'DO NOT CROSS' tape or the fact that it's the only screaming-black door in this entire house?"

"Oh, I don't know," Apollo decided to play along in bashing on the rocking prosecutor. If the ebony-clad man himself didn't mind… "The obvious 'stereotypical rocker rebel' look, as well as the cute law drawing." It disturbed the attorney to no end that the drawing of Kristoph bared the Devil twitch on his hand.

He smiled upon examining the picture. "Ah, yes… I drew this picture myself." Upon closer inspection, the same signature that Klavier bears once he composes a song. The lyric sheet for the Guitar's Serenade bared that signature. "And no matter how I try, I cannot bring myself to tear out Kristoph. I know that is what you were thinking." The attorney gave an 'urk' as the prosecutor seemed to read his mind. Why not? Thought the now-troubled attorney. That man was executed for the murders of two people! Why would you want to keep it? Especially when you know that the man wears a Devil on his hand? Then a thought occurred to him: How does Klavier know of the Devil on Kristoph's hand, anyway? "The truth is… I still love him, as foolish as that sounds." A sort of pity twitched across his face once more. "I stand by the philosophy that no one is born evil. Something happened to Kristoph that either didn't happen to me or that I didn't remember that made him this way. He… was never so evil… not to me. He loved me with all of his heart." The prosecutor heaved a great sigh before turning to his now-friends. "Shall we press on? My room is… it's… something, I'll tell you that much." As the two guests entered Klavier's room, the first that was noticed by the crimson-clad attorney was the obvious purple-and-black motif. The walls were a soft, velvet purple, but the floorboards were a black polished wood, his bed, to the left of the room, was black with a purple cover over it, with purple pillows in the front and black pillows in the back. There was a glass case, much like in his prosecutor's office, which held even more guitars in it. Along this, there were several dressers, all in black wood. A round purple rug bore the Gavinners symbol in a gold color in the middle of the room. Along the side was a black wooden desk with a silver computer. Right next to it was an amp in order for his guitars to be heard and above this amp was a very large window, purple curtains draping over it. "Well, what do you think of it?"

"It's… pretty much exactly like how I expected it to be!" Trucy grinned, beaming at the less-than-rock-star room. "Mr. Hat, what do you think?"

She pushed a switch hidden somewhere in her cape and a rod dipped towards the ground, rose, twirled out, and grabbed Trucy's hat from her head, it's single left arm pinching the brim of the hat. "Oh, it's mahvelous, dahling!" The wooden figure cleared his throat, his wooden lips clacking, and he and Trucy turned towards the rocker. "I don't believe I've evah propahly introduced myself, I apologize. I am youhs truly, Mr. Hat."

The prosecutor was amused. "Pleased to meet you, Herr Hat." He extended a hand towards the wooden figure, who did nothing, as Trucy was unable to control Mr. Hat's arm.

"Oh, the pleasah's all mine, dahling." His wooden lips clapped once more, adding another note of irritation to Apollo's symphony of the events transpiring.

"Goodness me," Apollo groaned. How long is she planning on flirting with him through that creepily realistic puppet?! "This room is much brighter than I expected. There's like… no posters here—oh…" He turned his head up to the soft ivory ceiling to find posters of the Beatles, the Rolling Stones, Linkin Park, as well as much more obscure artists lining the ceiling and the wall above his bed, as well as the walls surrounding the door. "Well, it still lacks some of the angsty themes that are usually in a rocker's domain."

Klavier chuckled; the attorney was unsure if this was due to Mr. Hat's unsettling sort of charm, or from his statement. "What? You expected a lava lamp or something? A disco ball? Those weird little black turny-thingies with the different colored lights that spray all over the room? A bean bag chair? What's missing, Herr Forehead?"

"I dunno… more dark colors, I guess…" The shorter male muttered as he looked about the room. All of the angst-ridden teens on television shows always had dark colors in their rooms. It was probably the window. It should have been closed, or barred off or… something.

The blonde chuckled once more. "Do I seem like that kind of person? Honestly? What next, you'll think my bro's room is some sort of torch-lit dungeon with skeletons hanging off shackles?"

Apollo was baffled. As said before, his imagination can run wild at times. "M-Maybe…"

This time, the taller male laughed outwardly, instead of his usual low chuckle. Nonetheless, it was a pleasant noise as Apollo turned around, startled. "Oh, wow. You really know how to free someone from their bad day, Herr Forehead!" He crossed the room towards his closet and returned with a black-and-purple striped beanie, baring the Gavinners symbol, on his head. "Hope you don't mind; I love this hat. Just like you, Herr Hat. You can't get your hand off it!" He chuckled once more.

"Oh dear…" Apollo made his way to the prosecutor's bed as he attempted to drown out the strange conversation between immature man and puppet. Here, he found things among sketchbooks, photographs, a camera, an open notebook, pencil upon pencil and many scattered color pencils. "I… I didn't know you were a visual arts-type person, Klavier."

The platinum blonde approached his bed beside Apollo. "You didn't…? Well, I am, Herr Forehead."

"And-And it's not just drawings! This is, if you don't mind," Apollo brandished Klavier's camera cautiously, and the latter nodded with a smile. The attorney examined photo after photo. They were beautiful, capturing the essence of nature and human life. "These are… are…" He couldn't bring it in him to compliment the man.

"They are… good, ja?" Klavier asked gingerly.

Trucy and her hideous attraction had found their way to the two when Apollo found himself answering; his volume higher than usual, as it tends to get, "Yeah, it's wonderful! They're-They're, like, perfect! How did you get such an eye for these kinds of things?"

The older male sighed. "I… I don't really know." He collected the camera from his attorney friend. "Some of these pictures… I don't even remember taking them. It's like the powers that be don't want me to remember my past; there's only a few pictures here from before I was fifteen, and they're all just nature. It's odd, like someone took the effort to erase my history from me… When I woke up, I just had this… this itch for the essence of nature, and so I always managed to carry a camera with me, even if I didn't remember bringing it at all." He waved an arm over his bed, showing off his multiple talents. "All of these things… all of these talents… I don't remember having them. I just… do." Apollo made his way to Klavier's sketchbook before the older male revealed, "Don't try to look in those, either. Everything from before I came here was erased."

And the plot thickens… Was the only thought that Apollo could muster before Trucy blurted, "Hey, look! Polly look, it's me!" She pointed to a detailed sketch of herself in Klavier's notebook.

The latter blushed. "I-I am sorry, if you didn't want me to… but I have a habit of drawing people I meet and know… even if they don't know that I draw."

"No, no, it's fine! I look so pretty!" The magician nearly squealed.

"Would you like that picture? I don't have to keep it, if you want it." He chuckled lowly again.

A strange pang of protectiveness washed over the attorney. "No, that's a bad idea. Her dad… doesn't want her dating. What's gonna happen when he finds 'Gavin' scrawled as a signature to a very nice drawing of her that she took home?"

"I suppose so," Klavier chuckled once more. Does this guy ever not laugh at a moment's notice? "Oh," The prosecutor hopped up from his bed. "I suppose you all want lunch, ja? Well, I'll go make some. What'd you like?" The ebony-clad man asked the two.

"Ooh… I want pancakes!" Trucy suggested, to which Apollo quickly corrected that pancakes aren't to be eaten as lunch, not even at a guest's. "Maybe just sandwiches? Y'know, something simple? Oh! Oh! Or macaroni!"

"It's up to you, Fräulein."

"Um… macaroni! I never made macaroni before!" She smiled before returning that ghastly excuse for a stage act, Mr. Hat.

Klavier leaned in towards the magician. "Would you like me to show you how to make some? From scratch?"

The cyan-clad magician gasped. "Like, not microwave?"

"Nein, nein. Why would I want to serve my special guests something like microwave macaroni? Ach… no, no… Achtung, follow me, little Fräulein."

The shortest turned to her brother. "You're not coming, Polly?"

"Could I just… loiter, a little bit?" He blushed slightly, combing back his feather-hairs.

The older male shrugged. "Why not? Do what you'd like, the bathroom's down over towards the left."

For whatever possessed him, the attorney felt like he had to say something German… Klavier once said 'thank you' in German I think… what was it, again…? "Um, dhanks…" Was the attempted mess that left his lips. No, that definitely wasn't it…

The taller male stared at him for a long time before realizing, "Oh! You mean 'danke,' Herr Forehead. 'Danke,' dhan-kay." He pronounced slowly for the American.

"Dhan…kay, Hur Klavier." Apollo clipped out, his blush never fading as he scratched back his antennae hairs. I should have never tried… God, I must look stupid.

Surprisingly again, the ebony-clad prosecutor laughed outwardly. "Gern geschehen, Herr Apollo." He answered fluidly. "Don't worry; I had that same problem when I first came here to America. Oh, and that was 'You're welcome,' by the way."

"Well, at least I'm learning, huh?"

"At least," The oldest snickered again. "Alright then, loiter away. I'll call you down in about a half hour, ja?" Klavier smiled as he left the room with the cyan magician.

The attorney decided to look around the older prosecutor's room for more clues. Along his notebooks and sketchbooks, he found a leather-bound book without a name on its cover, a ribbon hung to a button binding the book closed. The shorter male was torn. Should I open it? What if Klavier found out? What if… I dunno, what if something creepy's in there? Apollo sighed; he'd hate himself for it later, but he felt that he must open the bound notebook. Inside, as the feather-headed attorney dreaded, was Klavier's personal diary. The first journal entry was dated in 2017, when Klavier was fifteen… and it was entirely in German. Not even the crimson-clad attorney's thoughts could sum up his confusion as he witnessed letters that the average American society would never put together and dots and slashes sprinkled over letters, such as the 'ä,' in 'Fräulein.' He began to work his way through the diary until he met the journal entry of the next year. Here, in horrific grammar, was Klavier's first journal entry in English. It spoke of no importance, other than that he had been learning English from his brother, and his excitement about how he could finally write a whole entry in English (multiple emoticons can attest to this). A few weeks further into the entry, the attorney was startled as a burnt-up scrap of paper trickled from the diary.

Puzzled, Apollo collected this, his chocolate eyes gleaming with a sort of acute worry, knots beginning to worm a system in his stomach. 'If this boy knows anything of his past… he could easily be a problem. I have to eliminate this' And it was here that the note ended abruptly with the chars of fire. 'This?' Who or what is this 'this?' The attorney could only assume that this 'this' was a 'who,' rather than a 'what,' from the subject of 'this boy' before quickly realizing his situation as the panic of the prosecutor walking in on the diary-snooping overtook him and tucked the note back into the journal entry; he decided it was best to leave the rest of the journal a secret… except… October 9, 2026: the day that Kristoph Gavin was convicted. Lamentably however, there was no journal entry for that date, and it was understandable. Oppositely, the date that read June 11, 2027—the day that Kristoph was executed (and the attorney could never understand why his death came about so quickly), there read two words on the entry: 'He's gone.' With the ink of the lines on the page smearing a bit in circular depressions on the page; he'd wept that day, and for the obvious reason.

He shut the journal back up and bound it once more, replacing it on its rightful place on Klavier's bed, a sick feeling in his stomach. Although his brother was a cold-blooded murderer, the younger still loved him so dearly. He decided he could look through the man's sketchbook. I'm already in deep crap right now for looking at his diary, so might as well look at something more within my limits. Here, he found drawings of nature dating back to when Klavier was fourteen, in 2016; yet in intervals between the pages, there would be noticeable tears, as if the pages had, indeed, been torn out. Is this what the platinum blonde had meant about an effort going on to erase his history? Nonetheless, there were no drawings of the prosecutor's caretaker, to Apollo's lament. As he proceeded later on, he found an adorably cartoonish caricature of Wesley Stickler running off with Trucy's panties, for one, and Director Hickfield flirting with the prosecutor as his face mirrored complete horror with a speech bubble saying, 'I'm a guy…' on it. The next page was the portrait of Trucy that had been seen earlier, the next page being a picture of the defense attorney himself. Several notes (some in English, some in German) were scrawled around the page, one arrow pointing to Apollo's feather hairs, another to his eyes, another to his bracelet… then the next page was another picture of Apollo—noticeably improved (if his godly talent can be improved)—in a different position, a single note on the page pointing to Apollo's bracelet with a sort of exclamation as the note (with several exclamation marks attesting to this). The attorney was disturbed to find Klavier's interest in him, as there were noticeably more drawings of the attorney rather than anyone else over the next few pages. Between the beginning of the Alita Tiala trial and the end of the Serenade trial, there were only a few pictures between each that weren't the crimson-clad attorney, such as another drawing of Trucy, Lamiroir (now known to Apollo as Thalassa), Ema, and Daryan, a caricature of Wocky, the sequence of how Phoenix miraculously only got a sprained ankle from being hit by a car, Ema munching on an irritated Klavier in a Snackoo suit and Mr. Hat randomly assaulting an unsuspecting Apollo. Yet, there were upwards of six full portraits of the younger attorney, and this made him worry a bit. The platinum blonde blushed when he said 'get to know me a tad better' and was drawing multiple portraits of him?! The attorney attempted to cool himself down. Almost every single drawing had a note of critique somewhere or other; he was simply trying to correct his mistake as it is a peeve of his?

Apollo felt it was best to banish these thoughts by revisiting his new friend and half-sister in the kitchen, and assist in the macaroni-making.

On the stairwell, the crimson-clad attorney heard this: "No, no… it's alright, Fräulein. I've had this problem for, what? seven years now. It's not a problem; but I hope you understand why I can't date you, ja?"

"Yeah, I do. It's a stupid little crush anyway…" His sister's voice was melancholy. Had she… really tried to ask out Prosecutor Klavier Gavin?

Nonetheless, the older brother within him felt he had to protect Trucy from whichever man decided to intrude upon her romantic status, even if she was the one who wanted such a status invaded. "H-Hey! Hey! OBJECTION! HOLD IT! Whatever it takes, both of you stop it right now! HANDS ON YOUR HEAD!" He screeched as he ran into the kitchen.

"Oh but if you do, the macaroni'll burn, Herr Forehead!" Klavier's face was sheepish, and yet he and Apollo's beloved sister were in two different rooms, dispelling whatever paranoid thought overtook the man in a moment of protectiveness.

"O-Oh… sorry… I kinda heard and thought… y'know…" The younger male blushed lightly, his hand reaching for his antennae again as he realized just how nonexistent the danger towards Trucy was. "What were you guys talking about?"

"U-Um!" Trucy choked, directing unwanted attention towards her. "I kinda… I dunno… I just started talking and I didn't really pay attention…" She chuckled nervously knocking the brim of her hat with her knuckles. "And when I looked at him, he was looking all freaked-out and I realized I just confessed all of my fangirlism towards him…"

Klavier chuckled. "It was really no problem," He turned his attention towards the magician. "But I hope you understand why 'us' cannot happen, ja?"

"J-Ja…" Trucy muttered. "It's not that I'm sad 'cause I can't date you—I know why I can't—I'm just really, really embarrassed."

"That's really okay, Trucy. I'm perfectly okay, if that helps at all. Don't feel embarrassed." He moved the pan and poured it into a ceramic container. "There, now you two can have your lunch." The eldest of the three began to set out plates for his guests. "And after that, we'll check out some other places, ja? I'm sure, Herr Forehead, you're dying to see Kristoph's office? Then we can check the other aspects of my house; it is an oversized one at that… Perhaps my office and Kristoph's? And then the practice room that used to house the Gavinners, and the recreation room…" The man trailed off as his guests ate their lunch. Apollo noticed as Klavier's tone became sad. "It used to feel so complete with Kristoph here. Now it feels far too big for just me and Vongole."

"You ever gonna clean out Kristoph's stuff?" Apollo found himself mindlessly asking, not even a thought to whether it would hurt his new prosecutor friend.

He found out far too late of his actions when the latter chuckled. "I can't… I can't just let it collect dust, can I? I think it's far less respectful to just leave it the way it was. Don't know exactly what I'm going to do with his stuff, or his rooms when they're cleaned, but I can't just leave them the way they are, can I, Herr Forehead?"

The platinum blonde had an excellent point. "Yeah… kinda a stupid question, I'm sorry…"

"Stop apologizing like these things are gonna hurt me!" He demanded a bit too harshly for the innocent chuckle that came afterwards. "Achtung, when I was saying that stuff about the house being too big, it wasn't because I missed my bro, it's because I was worried about all of the homeless kids out there and I felt selfish, and 'cause I don't know what the—pardon my language—hell I'm gonna do with all this damned space!"

"Is that a rhetorical question…?" Was all Trucy could say, her lips smeared in cheese. "This is so good! I'm so proud of myself!" She beamed at her and Klavier's joint creation.

To believe that Klavier's house could hold a pool, recreation room, an office for he and his brother, a small library, and a practice room for his music was almost surreal to the lower-class attorney. There was even a random baby grand in the middle of the foyer.


"This is our piano." The ebony-clad prosecutor brandished the piano with a wave of his hand, his wavy platinum blonde locks shimmering in the light. "But I guess you can tell, ja? Here," He sat himself down, "You know how you say you don't like my music?"

"I didn't say I hated rock, I'm just saying I don't like the volume of it all…" Apollo grumbled.

"And I never said that you said you didn't like rock. I said you don't like my music, which is an affirmative. And I could say the same thing about your talking volume too, Herr Vocal Chords." He chuckled. "But anyway, how's this for a little something milder? I'll let you know that this is my favorite song of all time." And he muttered inwardly, "I just hope I can play it right…!" His fingers danced over the keys, playing the notes for Rufus Wainwright's version of Hallelujah, singing along to the song as the music emitted from the masterful pianist. Why did my mother need Machi when you had talent like this? And… God, how much more can you give this man?

"Wow…" Apollo marveled, "That's beautiful… Y'know, when you're not drowned out by the other instruments, your voice is… so nice. How do you sing with an American accent?"

"I taught myself. Most foreign vocalists, even English vocalists with accents—such as Australian—that sing English try to keep their accents out so you can understand the message of our songs. You see, when one sings, they focus on vowel sounds. When one speaks, they focus on consonants, so their message can get across. The difference between those two is the ability to draw out notes and change pitch. Since Americans normally speak by enunciating vowel sounds, their form of speech is similar to song, so that is why accented singers sing with an 'American' accent. That's why when I used to go on stage, I'd fake one. Hardly any fans, bar those really nutty-determined ones, knew I was German to begin with. And I learned the piano skills from my brother."

It would only make sense that the elegant murderer would be some sort of classical instrumentalist. "So how do you know how to play the piano?" Apollo asked. He is a guitarist/vocalist; the thought of him being able to play anything pleasant was… surprising.

Klavier chuckled. "They don't call me 'Klavier' for nothing." He turned an eye to a confused Apollo, thinking it cute of his cluelessness. "You know my name means 'piano,' ja?"

"Oh! Y-Yeah, of course!" The crimson-clad attorney blushed slightly, scratching back his feathers. "If Trucy gets this knowledge, Lord knows a nickname will come about." Was all he could think to say to redeem himself.

None of the rooms were that interesting, and alas, Kristoph's office was no dungeon, but his bedroom was a bit more 'something.' It was like a mini-library there in itself. Where Klavier's right wall was a showcase of his guitars, Kristoph's wall was lined with book upon book in a fine, polished wood case, a few things such as a marble sculpture and a violin occupying some space. Despite the blue-and-gray color scheme laid about, and a few decisive details, Kristoph's room was similar to his brother's, replacing some of the rock-and-arts themes with more of a quiet, law-and-reading theme. "Remember how I said that the library was only half the size of a normal one? This is the other half," Klavier snickered, brushing a hand through Vongole's golden hair. The formidable dog whimpered. "Ach, I'm afraid that Vongole must do her… business. I do apologize, but I have to take her out."

"Oh! Can I come too?" Trucy bounced, gaining a disturbed stare from her brother. She wants to see a dog poop? He could conjure no rebuttal at the time, his mind warped by whatever reasoning might be behind his sister's excitement towards such a thing. Klavier, too, found no objection (as what Apollo could assume he found no strangeness in Trucy's actions), and silently led the girl to watch the poor dog go about her natural cycle… with an audience.

As the coast cleared, Apollo was again overcome by his wandering eye, and was drawn to a notebook found on Kristoph's desk; it was the exact same as Klavier's diary: a leather-bound notebook, unmarked, and held shut with a ribbon. Apollo undid the ribbon gingerly, and made his way to April 19, 2019 (as it was, obviously, the man's diary), the day Zak Gramarye vanished from the courtrooms. 'Nearly everything went perfect today; the guilty verdict was decided, Phoenix Wright is no longer a so-called 'Ace Attorney,' and my dear brother's fame has reached the stars in both his musical career and in the halls of the law. …But I say 'nearly perfect' for a reason; there have been two problems that have stemmed from the Magnifi Gramarye murder trial. One is the obvious disappearance of the defendant, so as I had said, a guilty verdict was 'decided,' yet not passed. What I am to do about this situation is unknown to me as of yet. Another problem is nagging me far worse, and I am now torn. This problem's name is Klavier Gavin.' Apollo gasped sharply at this, shocked. His thoughts could not reach him as his eyes pushed them back with the information on the page. 'He has his stardom, yes, but that is not enough to quell him. He is constantly asking how I could possibly know so much about the trial, to which I insist that it was because I was to represent. And yet… he asks of Phoenix Wright. He asks how I could possibly know he was 'corrupt,' and my reason is not working, although the logic is perfect. It's… as if he can sense something about me. It's disturbing. But I am unsure of what to do. I have vowed that if anything leaks about the crime I have committed, that those that have leaked must be silenced… and yet… what if he who has leaked such information happens to be my own flesh and blood? Must I still… silence him? I… am unsure. He is my brother, and I love him, and yet his curiosity and pursuit of the truth might force something upon me that I will never allow myself to be forgiven of. All I can hope is that he asks no more questions of the Magnifi trial. If he gets out of hand… I might indeed have to silence him. Oh, who am I trying to sound so angelic for? If he ends up telling someone of his suspicions pertaining to my crime… I will have to kill my younger brother. I will have to kill Klavier Gavin.' Apollo loosed a shaky breath, his Chords of Steel lost somewhere within him. 'I will have to kill my younger brother… Klavier Gavin.' The sheer absolution of it… lost the attorney deep within a swirl of unwanted nostalgia. It was a place called 'the darkness.' The man that stood at that trial nine months ago, who looked across at his distraught, broken brother—who was only destroying himself for trying to find the remnants of the loving brother hidden, or perhaps lost forever, in the murderous monster that Kristoph Gavin had become—and belittled him… He had every intention to kill his brother for more than seven years? The young man that lived within the same house… that carried the same name… as the man wrote himself in ink and paper, his own flesh and blood… he was willing to throw it all away in the paranoid mess that he had become?

Apollo tore out that hideous page, two reasons shaking themselves from his clouded mind. The first was that he was utterly disgusted at the man that he once called his boss… a man that was willing to throw away the life of a twelve-year-old for simply forging something of his? A man that was willing to throw away the life of his own younger brother—Apollo's mind could not drift far from that focal point—simply because it was he who exposed Phoenix Wright for his 'forgery,' and grew suspicious for his brother's sudden knowledge in the attorney's falsifying habits? The second reason Apollo could surmise was from the target of the entry: Klavier. What if that sweet, wholehearted man was to find that his brother—his very own brother that, to this day, he still felt loved him—had the intent to kill him? He would be beyond devastated. The crimson-clad attorney did not even want to wrap his mind around how the platinum blonde would react to such information. All of his pain deserved to come to pass; the darkness deserved to be purged from his body, and it is. Such information would certainly be undeserving of the pure prosecutor. The chocolate-haired attorney stuffed the horrid piece of paper in to his pocket, tucking in the corners to destroy any suspicions that he'd torn out that curse of an entry as he slammed the diary shut and bound the darkness within it back where it belonged. It was as if he exorcised a demon within those pages.

As if on cue, the light voice of the rival prosecutor was heard conversing with his magician sister. "I know… that'd be so cool if I could teach her how to use a toilet!"

"Yeah, I know! Then you wouldn't have to pick it up anymore, huh?" Trucy chuckled as the two entered the once-attorney's room, Vongole padding in lackadaisically behind them. "Hiya, Polly! Daddy's called, and since we've seen all of Mr. Gav—err… Klavier's house, we decided we'd just rendezvous back at the Agency anyway. If you don't mind."

Although his mind latched onto those last disgusting words in Kristoph's diary entry (the warm presence of Klavier's obliviousness not aiding this in the least), Apollo managed to hear the hollow facts of Trucy's statement. "Yeah, that sounds fine," He droned. "What does he want anyway?"

"I'll just letcha hear it from the frog's mouth!"

Bless it that the attorney was one to be snippy of phrases; his mind was freed of those binding words. "That's 'horse's,' Trucy. 'I'll let you hear it from the horse's mouth.' Not 'frog's.' "

"Whatever! Horse, frog! They're both animals and they both fit a metaphor!" Trucy's hands met her hips as she exhaled sharply in annoyance. "Daddy said to invite Klavier too, if we want. Is that okay, Klavier?"

"But of course," The eldest snapped his fingers to whatever tune was playing in his head at the time. "I've been shut in by the paparazzi the past few days, and now that they've stopped, not a soul wants me to prosecute a case. I'm sure you know why," He leaned in towards the attorney, his cerulean eyes expectant. He wanted Apollo to answer.

He sighed. "It's because of the rumors that you assisted your brother in all of his murders. That you're an accomplice, or possibly the murderer yourself, as the two of you look virtually the same if you put some effort into it."

"All I'd need is glasses and a decent suit, ja?" Klavier chuckled. "But you're correct. Usually, I'd be pretty apathetic towards the paparazzi, because they'd usually be asking civil questions: 'When's the album coming out?' 'Is the band splitting up?' 'Are any of the members of the Gavinners gay?' 'Are you and your brother the same person?' Blah, blah, blah… Some'd do anything for a scoop. I can name one off the top of my head…" He snickered. "So, ja, I suppose I can see Phoenix Wright." His voice quieted substantially. "I'm actually quite scared."

Trucy's eyes laced in confusion. "Why's that?"

"I… am the one who lost him his attorney's badge. It's all my fault he… has lost his job. And to top it all off, I disrespected that man because of what Kristoph had me believe… I didn't even give him that benefit all of these years and now… I am so afraid to face him again…"

Apollo rested a hand on the prosecutor's shoulder as he drew apart his lips to name further details of his treatment towards the ex-attorney. "There's nothing to worry about, Klavier." He reassured quite roughly; he tried his best, but the attorney was never one to be good at these sorts of sentimental things. "It isn't your fault."


"Hiya, Daddy!" Trucy entered the Agency, wrapping her father around in a tight hug. "So, you've gotta tell Polly why we're here."

"I see you've brought Klavier," Was all Mr. Wright said—completely disregarding his daughter—his lazy eyes gazing on the prosecutor, who turned his head away in shame. "How've you been?"

The platinum blonde hesitated. "Wright…" Was the only thought that could escape his lips. "I-I'm… so sorry…"

"For what?"

"I… It's all my fault… You're not an attorney and it's all my fault, Herr Wright."

"Well… yes and no," The raven-haired man chuckled. "See, I went suit shopping today, since Trucy's… um… 'Mommy' came home today. And well, I don't go suit shopping for any ol' occasion."

"Daddy passed his bar exam!" Trucy bounced, her eyes elated. "He's gonna be an attorney again, since he didn't forge the evidence! It's it great?"

Apollo pondered this for a moment. One, Thalassa's coming home today? But she's only been out for a few weeks abroad… she has to be gone longer, right? and Why didn't he pass the exam earlier? He decided to act on his second thought. "Um, why didn't you get your exam done earlier?"

Phoenix smiled. "You always act quickly, don't you Apollo? Little Trucy here never specified when I passed my bar exam, nor have I specified when I went suit shopping." He chuckled as he answered the question finally, "My first case coming back is in a couple days, and I wanted to celebrate. 'Mommy' found out about this and wanted to celebrate too, deciding to come back from abroad."

"I see," Apollo muttered, his embarrassment not quite as heightened to comb back his feathers. He felt a bit bad for his mentor. He clipped out 'Mommy' so choppily. It must be hard forcing an immature nature just for your daughter.

"So why did you bring me along?" Klavier asked, seating himself in all of the clutter. "And… where are we going to eat?"

"I brought you along because you were the poor little medium that got my badge taken away, and I know how bad you felt after Kristoph's trial. I know how bad it was and how guilty you must have felt about making me lose my attorney's badge." Phoenix sang sympathetically. "And I just wanted to invite you here to say 'it's alright now.' And as for the 'where,' we're going to Trucy's 'Mommy's' place, so I thought you'd like it."

"Well, alright… but I should get better dressed, shouldn't I?" Klavier blushed lightly.

"Take all the time you need, we'll all leave at eight, alright?" Phoenix smiled, allowing the blonde to leave and get ready for the night at Thalassa's.


A/N: So, besides the hella long amount that you viewers had to read, how was it? KLAVIER IS A GOD AMONG EVERYTHING. He can be whatever he wants! }:D But, as you'll realize about my writing, everything has a purpose. Why exactly has he these talents? What will be in store at Thalassa's house? And what the hell kind of a sick, demented person was who we knew as Kristoph Gavin?