A/N: Alright, the fourth chapter! I'm just going to plow straight ahead and go back to change things later, okay? Lana makes quite a guest appearance- can you guess who her husband is? ;) It should be extremely obvious seeing how I couldn't resist putting his name in. xD Man, I like writing Lana too much... Ohyes, spoiler alert for case five in PW:AA! Ohmyit'slong…6 pages in Word. O.o

Disclaimer: CAPCOM.

Thursday : Lana's Investigation

I looked at the clock through bleary eyes and blew my nose again. One in the morning, huh? This is why I hate crying, I thought vaguely to myself. My nose is like Niagra Falls for the next freaking five hours. It wasn't a particularly imaginative metaphor, I knew, but I wasn't feeling particularly imaginative.

Currently, I was feeling like a great big sack of nothing.

Some sort of children's thing was playing itself out on my television, oblivious to my discomfort, and for a few minutes my attention was stayed by a robotic samurai engaged in an epic battle. But then it was time for a commercial break, and wouldn't you know it, it was a commercial for a concert. Not the Gavinner's concert, but still- it led my train of thought right back around to Klavier Gavin.

My mind figured out that his first and last names could be combined to create Klavin, which sounded like a cleaning product, and then moved on to his other features. "No!" I told myself firmly. "You are not going to let that glimmerous fop get under your skin ever again! Now go to sleep!" Tossing myself over on the couch, I squeezed my eyes shut and concentrated on the sound of the TV. No matter what it was saying, as long as it was on I didn't feel completely alone.

But I was.

I sat back up. This was never going to work. I glanced guiltily at the clock again…it was still one am. Bouncing the phone in my hand, I wavered back and forth just like I'd been doing since I got home. What if she yells at me for calling so late? C'mon, you know Lana wouldn't yell! But she might tell me to call back in the morning, and I can't wait that long- I have to go to work. The thought of work with my boss made up my mind: I needed to hear my older sister's voice.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

"Maybe she won't pick up," I muttered to myself, half hopeful and half worried.

Ring. Ri-

"Hello?" Lana's voice was crisp and perfect in my ear. It felt so good to hear her again that I had to blink back a wave of homesickness.

"H-hi, Lana… um, it's me."

There was a wave of background noise that sounded like a club and I could picture her setting down her sophisticated-looking drink and brushing her long hair out of her face as she listened. "Ema? What's wrong? Are you okay?" Wait… it's one in the morning, but she's out and about?

"Where are you? What about Uncle?"

"I went out for the night so he could have some time to just relax. Work's been hard for him lately. Anyway, I ended up finding someone…interesting to talk to. But that's not important- are you okay?" she repeated.

"I'm…fine. I think."

"Tell me about it, Ema." As usual, Lana got straight to the point. "Boy troubles?"

"It's- WHAT? LANA!"

"Oh, that's not it? Well, I tried. My prosecutor's sense is out of practice."

"I- Well, he is a guy," I could feel her triumphant smile through the phone, "but he's my boss."

"Ah, I think I understand. Is he treating you badly?" I was a little surprised that Lana didn't immediately assume I had a crush on him, then I remembered her boss when she worked for the prosecutor's office. Damon Gant had threatened, murdered, and blackmailed her and the people she cared about. It was more likely for her to associate a boss with anger than love.

"Yeah!" I blurted out before I could think of anything really incriminating to follow. "He taunts me all the time and tries to take my Snackoos and calls me pet names and tricks me into going to his concerts and on his death contraption I mean motorcycle and is always reminding me that he's an amazing bilingual rock star prosecutor!"

There was a moment of silence. "Ema, the only thing I could think to get him on for that is sexual harassment, and I don't think even Manfred Von Karma could have gotten a guilty." I leaned my forehead against the wall. "It sounds to me like he's genuinely interested in you."

"I…I know it sounds like that," I groaned, "but he just won't stop teasing me and I can't stand it! It's like he's never serious!"

"Like Justin," she said out of nowhere.

I paused for a moment, in case that decided to suddenly make sense. It didn't. "What?"

"Justin, that boy who was in your class in third grade! He had the hugest crush on you, don't you remember? Wouldn't stop teasing you all year."

"Lanaaaa, it's not the same at all!"

"Why not?"

"Because he's way older than Justin! An adult! We're both adults, that's not how adults are supposed to act."

"Just because he's physically mature doesn't mean he's emotionally mature," she pointed out. "In fact, he's probably never had a real relationship where both sides give honestly. He may not know how." I felt like I'd been beaned with the Blue Badger. Not only because she was kind of taking his side, but because what she said totally made sense. I'd seen him tease his fans before, and they all reacted with a level of screaming inaudible to human ears- jumping up and down, blushing, or trying to hug him. I realized that Lana was still talking and tuned back in. "…your reaction."

"Sorry, what was that?"

"I said that's he's probably just looking for your reaction."

"But I've tried everything! I've said yes, I've said no, I've tried to be polite and I've tried to ignore him and I've tried to fight back, I… I just don't get him."

"What did you say his name was?" Lana asked suddenly. I recognized the tone of her voice, it was her The Pieces Are Starting to Fall Together No Thanks to the Stubborn Witness voice.

"I didn't. But it's Klavier Gavin." I answered reluctantly.

"Gav- what does he look like?"

"Why, do you know him?"

"Know him? …No, we've never been introduced."

" …Uh, blonde hair, blue eyes. His chin is about at the top of my head, so scientifically speaking, he's taller than me by at least three inches. His skin is really tan, which makes his eyes stand out, and he always has this overconfident grin on his face. I guess he looks German. Oh yeah, he loves to talk in German to confuse me, but I bought a dictionary to translate and it turned out that he was actually calling me his love, but…" Somehow I ended up telling Lana everything. I talked and talked and talked about that fop until I was tired of my own voice. I told her the things I hated about him- hated so bad that sometimes I thought I could live out the rest of my life happily if he became a paranormal photographer and moved back to Germany forever- and the things that I, well, loved about him. How sometimes I froze up because half of me wanted to press my face into his chest. The certain way the corners of his mouth would curve when he was really into taunting me. How his slim fingers pulled at his hair when he was thinking, or moved nimbly across the guitar strings, or darted in and out of my Snackoos before I realized what was happening.

And when I had used every word I could think of to describe him (including, of course, glimmerous and fop), so that Lana would have the same frustrating, contradictory picture as me, I stopped. I took a deep, shuddering breath, and waited for her to speak.

And she knew I was waiting, so she hesitated.

"I think…"

I sat on my couch with my chin propped up in my hands, numbly watching the seconds on the clock drip past. Three…two…one… it's three am. It's three in the morning and the only thing standing between me and a great night's sleep is that my sister just told me I'm in love with my boss.

"'I think you're in love with him,'" I whispered to myself, quoting her, trying to imitate the gentle tone that she used and the soft, certain way she said it. It came out pathetic and I cringed.

What's so wrong with being in love, Ema? Love is beautiful.

What's wrong with it is that he's my boss! And even if he wasn't my boss, even if he was just some hot German guy I met on the street, he's still…him. He still made me yell and cry and worry and believe I was going to die via motorcycle.

I didn't bother pretending that I didn't think he was hot anymore. There's a remarkable clarity that hits around three in the morning when you're thinking about love. I replayed my conversation with my older sister again and again in my head.

What did you say his name was?

Gav- what does he look like?

Know him? … No, we've never been introduced.

She had sounded a little strange, like she was on the verge of a lie. A terrible, terrible thought hit me then- Does Lana know Klavier?! Because I had no idea what she would tell/do to him if she did.

Three hours earlier.

Klavier leaned over the counter and smiled winningly at the barista. "Hello there, Fraulein. Can I ask you for a favor?"

Her cheeks flushed and she seemed to have difficulty remembering the English language, but she nodded. Klavier chuckled. Excellent, a fangirl. He placed his order with the most charming grin he could manage, and watched in satisfaction at her wide eyes as he downed it in one gulp. "T-that's a lot of…alcohol, Mr. Gavin!"

"I'm drowning my sorrows," he chuckled. "Perhaps you could help."

Her whole face was the color of Ema's necktie. "I- I- I- I'd love to!! What's is- I mean, what are you sad about?"

He lifted his freshly refilled glass to her. "I'm sad that we're not alone right now, Frauelin."

A middle-aged barista hunched down next to the gibbering first. "Girl troubles?"

"Something like that."

"Tell me about it, honey. Trust me when I say I've heard 'em all."

"You've never heard Ema Skye," he laughed and took another drink, knowing he looked dazzling. But if he'd been paying less attention to himself and more to those around him, he'd have noticed a woman in her late thirties sit up suddenly and turn her piercing gaze in his direction.

When the conversation turned again, she decided to act.

"I'll take over from here, thank you." The woman's eyes cleared a path for her as she abandoned her drink to stride gracefully behind the bar; her long red scarf flowing behind her as she walked. She picked up a nearby apron and tied it on, coolly flipping over a page on the pad tucked inside one pocket. No one dared to question why a barista on break would have been dressed like someone out for a night on the town. "Anything else?"

"How about you join me for a drink?" She was considerably older than him, but still attractive in an icy sort of way. He wondered how warm her chocolate brown eyes could get.

"I'm happily married." Her ring chimed abruptly as it knocked against the marble counter. Klavier's seductive grin didn't leave his face.

"Then what is a beautiful lady like you doing out all on your own tonight? Doesn't seem so happy to me. Or is it a crime to have a drink with a young man who could help you forget your troubles?"

"What about your girl? Ema Skye?"

For a moment his face was hidden as he took a swig of his drink. "Forget about her, Liebe. She isn't here, now it's just you and me-"

"She's hardly trouble if you can throw her away so easily, wouldn't you agree?"

His eyes narrowed. She's not talking to me like a barista to a rock star in a public bar. She's talking to me defense attorney to prosecutor. It's like…she's building a courtroom around us. He took another drink. "You think Klavier Gavin isn't man enough to handle you? I was hoping for a little more pleasure and less work tonight, but it looks like the heat's turned on without my permission. Achtung, Baby!"

"There's no need to get so worked up. Just tell me about her."

He chuckled. "You'll excuse me if I don't feel the overwhelming urge to confide in you."

She leaned back. "And why not? You're hardly likely to get a more honest or useful opinion than that of a married woman such as myself."

He paused. That was actually true. Who better to give him a Fraulein's perspective than another Fraulein- er, Frau- and who knew what any other girl would tell him? This woman at least was not a fangirl, that much was obvious. "Okay, Fraulein. You win. Advise away, but if all the talking makes you thirsty I'm keeping the seat next to me open, ja?"

"Hmn. Are you going to tell me more about her?"

A shrug. "What do you want to know?"

"What does she look like? What's her job? How do you know each other?"

"Just the facts, ma'am? You're quite the…investigator." Another drink. "She's got long brown hair that she wears part up in a ponytail. Her eyes are…err, angry."

"You don't remember what color, do you?"

"I gaze into a lot of Fraulein's eyes, but I'll be sure to remember yours-"

"What does she wear?"

Damm, sie macht kein Spass. "A lab coat, tan pants, red necktie, nice-fitting green vest. Very nice-fitting."

"Her job?"

"Eating Snackoos, one would think. Although occasionally she does manage to investigate crimes, which is her real job. Before you ask, that's also how we know each other, which brings us to the end of your questions- if you don't have any advice now, how about something else…?"

"You don't deserve her."

He sat back, eyes wide because whatever he was expecting, it wasn't that. "Harsh. Why do you say that?"

"You don't really love her. Maybe you want to love her, but some part of you still believes that in this adult world, you can get by with acting childish. As much as you want to deny it, she's not a little Fraulein anymore. Could you forgive yourself if you knew you made her cry?"

For once, Klavier had nothing to say. Into the silence in the courtroom she had built around them fell the sound of a cell phone, bringing back the whole bar and city. It must have been around one am, and the crowd was thinning out in anticipation of rising early for work. The brown-haired woman removed her phone from her purse, looked at the caller ID, and pulled her apron off. "You'll excuse me."

His eyes followed her to the door, but his thoughts followed a different brown-haired Fraulein. "Kein Problem, Fraulein Eis," he lifted his glass to them both and downed the rest. "Barista! Could I trouble you for a refill…?"

The bed creaked as Lana's husband sat up. "You're home late."

"I know. I was having a sordid affair with a much younger man." She slid into bed next to him.

"Hmmn. You just point him out to me next time he's in these parts and we'll have a real shoot-em-up at high noon."

"Ema called. I'm worried about her."

He finally opened his dark eyes and looked at her, rubbing his five-o'clock shadow with one hand, the other arm slung around her shoulders. "You want to saddle up your steel steed and mosey on down for a visit, I take it?"

"I thought it might be good to check up on her…or maybe she doesn't want her sister interfering. What do you think I should do?"

He thought about it, then plopped back down on the pillow, eyes firmly shut. "Can't saddle your horses till' the mornin' anyway."

"And this horse, no matter how much I wish otherwise, has to be saddled by someone else." She could feel his quiet laughter warm against her neck.

"Sweet dreams, Bambina."

"Goodnight, Jake."

One happy couple and one not-so-happy not-quite-a-couple drifted off to sleep in LA.

Translations for the multitudes

Damm, sie macht kein Spass. Damn, she's no fun.

Fraulein Eis- Miss Ice/Icy

Kein Problem- used here as "you're excused"

A/N: Apparently they didn't go to work on Thursday. xD LOL I think I'm gonna split Thursday up into two parts. And what about Lana? Will she really come intervene?! No one knows. Not even me.

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