Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, STUPID.
Exactly what was going through his head at that point of time? What was wrong with him that day? Why had he been so foolish, so stupid?
It was his fault. It was all. His. Fault.
He stared at the unmoving body on the rigid bed, feigning ignorance to the blatant beeping in the background. Under normal circumstances, it could've almost been considered funny, the last time he was in this state was at least a year ago.
The steady rise and fall of his chest was the only thing that assured Kristoph he was alive. His skin was as pale as snow, his eyes that were always so full of life refused to open. If it weren't for his coffee-brown hair, he might have blended into the eggshell white bedsheets.
He looked so fragile, so vulnerable in the bed. Kristoph gently placed his own hand over his assistant's much smaller one. He squeezed the hand, as tightly as he dared, because his hand looked like it could break with just a poke.
"He'll wake up soon." A voice cut through the silence like a knife through a block of warm cheese. Despite the words, it didn't offer any comfort, to Kristoph or Clay himself. "He'll pull through. He always does. He's fine. I'm fine. We're all fine." Clay looked like he had aged another fifty years within the few hours he had heard the news and rushed to his best friend's side. He hadn't shed a single tear, but his eyes were glistening, the urge to let his tears free evident. His only source of comfort seemed to be seeing that the boy on the bed was still breathing.
Kristoph remained silent. He said nothing, unable to find any words to comfort Clay, before finally settling for, "I'm sorry."
But Clay shook his head slowly, placing a hand on Kristoph's tense shoulder, "It's not your fault." He didn't, however, tell Kristoph it was fine, that his apology was entirely accepted, but it was okay, Kristoph had been expecting it, actually even worse. "You know, you should go on and continue with the case. He'd want that." Clay added softly. Kristoph gently took Clay's wrist and released it, and Clay got the cue, allowing his hand to fall onto his lap.
"You're right, he'd want that." Kristoph agreed, though keeping fixed in the chair. He took one more look at the boy on the bed. "...I'm sorry, Apollo." He finally managed to force out of his mouth, briefly ruffling his hair before releasing his hand, pushing back his chair and standing up. "You'll take care of Apollo while I'm gone, right?" He asked the unnecessary question, already knowing the answer before the first word left his lips.
"Was there ever any doubt?" Clay replied, a small smile which was filled with weariness and sadness was revealed, and Kristoph left the room, gently rubbing the bandage around his right hand, wincing at the sting and at the thought of the stitches on what was to be a permanent scar on the back of his hand.
He would solve this case for Apollo, nothing would change his mind.
He had no idea what unworldly power possessed him to comply him to bring Apollo along for this case.
It was true, Apollo had been his assistant for at least a year now, and recently he had started tagging along with crime scene investigations. In fact, sometimes he saved the entire case. But that didn't give him an excuse to bring Apollo along for the investigation of a first degree murder.
They had already investigated the place once, but they were interrupted and rudely shoveled out by the police. Apollo was defiant on investigating the place one more time once the detectives were gone, and Kristoph wouldn't had argued anyway.
They entered the crime scene, which was the office of a politician. He had been shot square in the head from the window right behind the desk, and all the evidence seemed to be pointing to a man who used to be a delinquent.
The room was painted a dirty cream-yellow colour, with solely one large window, which was at the back of the office. Its sea green curtains were drawn shut, preventing the sunlight from entering the room, possibly to preserve the crime scene. There was a white string on the floor, marking where the body had been found. The dried blood was still left splattered messily onto the desk, chair and floor.
Kristoph took a look around the spacious office, much more so than his entire house, at that. Most children, adults even, would sicken at the sight of all the blood, but it seemed Apollo had nerves of steel, because he simply walked into the place like it was a supermarket and scanned the area. His eyes seem to be caught on something, and after staring at it intensely for a few moments, he walked over to the desk.
"Mister Gavin...There's gunpowder on the desk." Apollo announced. Kristoph didn't bother to hide his astonishment.
"Really? Where is it?" Kristoph asked, walking over to his assistant.
"Right there." Apollo pointed to some microscopic crack in the desk, but it was what he saw, and Kristoph wasn't going to argue with Apollo. The kid had some amazing eyesight, the lawyer had noted. "But if there's gunpowder here, that means he wasn't shot from the window, like the police had thought."
"That's a very good point." Kristoph nodded his head, allowing a small smile to form on his face, "Then that would mean our client-"
His voice cut short and smile faded when the lights suddenly went out, blanketing the room in complete darkness. Kristoph stumbled backwards a bit from the shock.
"Apollo, what-" Kristoph called out, but he was cut off again. He felt something, or someone, run past him at the speed of lightning, and suddenly there was an acute, burning pain in the back of his right hand. He let out a yell, his left hand clutching his injured one. He felt a sticky, warm liquid flow down his hands and arms, a tinny, metallic smell filling his nostrils. He stumbled around some more, feeling his back hit against something hard, which he guessed was the desk.
"Mister Gavin!" He was dimly aware of Apollo's voice calling out to him, and he felt his protegé by his side, but it was hard for him to focus. The pain continued to rage in his hand, feeling slightly dizzy from the smell of his own blood and from the rate he was losing it.
"Stop! Leave Mister Gavin alone! He-" Apollo's voice was suddenly cut off, he felt another swift movement beside him, and suddenly Apollo wasn't there any more. He thought he heard something, two objects clashing together, and Apollo's agonized scream filled the air. The sound again, this time accompanied with the sound of some things falling onto the floor, and another loud scream.
Kristoph's legs were like jelly, and he slid to the ground. Why was Apollo's voice so damn loud and why was his hand in so much pain and no stop hurting Apollo his voice is hurting me stop hurting him leave him alone PLEASE he's innocent MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP.
Apollo's screaming had ceased, and he heard the sound of objects colliding once more, before he felt movement right in front of his face, and the sound of the door closing. Kristoph's breathing was irregular and heavy. Despite already being surrounded in darkness, he could tell he was passing out. His entire body started to feel like it was going numb.
No, I can't, I need to get to Apollo. I need to get to Apollo.
Apollo.
Kristoph sucked in a deep breath, before dragging himself forward. No, it was no good, he wasn't moving fast enough, he was passing out, he knew.
He felt his hand touch something sticky and wet. He moved his hand around a little more, before identifying what the liquid was resting upon was hair. Apollo's hair. His head. Kristoph knew the blood wasn't from his own hand alone.
He pulled himself forward a little more, placing a hand to the back of Apollo's head and one to his back, bringing the boy closer to himself. Kristoph's left hand was the one on his assistant's head, and he could feel blood seeping through his fingers. No, please don't die on me Apollo. You can't die on me. This all felt so impossible, so unreal, from the stabbing pain on the back of his hand to the fact that Apollo was bleeding severely in his arms. He pulled Apollo a little closer, to hopefully decrease the bleeding, before letting his oh-so-heavy eyelids close.
He didn't remember anywhere being his bright.
The moment he opened his eyes, he was greeted by a blinding light, which made his eyes sting. He groaned a little, cracking his eyes opened.
The second thing he noticed was not the interior of the room, but the pain in his right hand when he tried to move it to massage his eyelids.
He lifted his hand to his face, staring at the bandage around his hand.
He blinked a little, what had happened? He was in a...Hospital, he had read enough stories to know. "Blinding light" was always referring to a hospital.
Ah, yes, he remembered. He was investigating the politician's office, Apollo had found some decisive evidence that turned the entire case around, and...An assault, it had to be an assault.
"Ah, Mister Gavin! You're awake!" Kristoph lolled his head to the side to see a woman clad in white looking down at him. She turned away and exited the room, and a short while later, a doctor entered the room instead.
Kristoph's first question was not why he was here, or what would happen to his hand, his question was Where was Apollo.
The doctor's response was You and Apollo were found by some policemen, Apollo has a concussion and is unconscious at the moment, now onto the topic of your hand, it'll require stitches and-
Kristoph was out the door before you could say "Hold it!".
He ignored the people surrounding him, only faintly aware of the doctor's protests. He walked down the corridor and looked into the window of each door, looking for the familiar brunette that had always been faithfully by his side.
He halted a the last door at the end of the corridor. Could that be? Oh good Lord, please don't let it be. Kristoph turned the knob and opened the door, stepping into the room.
Sure enough, it was Apollo, and he wasn't looking well at all.
There was a bandage wrapped around his head, and he was hooked up to various machinery. Concussion, unconscious at the moment. No, this wasn't supposed to happen. Apollo found fact-changing evidence, it was supposed to be a celebration, not lead to this.
Then he felt a pang of guilt, striking him in the gut. He felt bile in his throat. He had done this to Apollo, it was his fault that Apollo was in this state.
The doctor finally caught up with him, nagging something about his wound, but he didn't care. He kept his gaze fixed on Apollo's still figure.
Eventually, the doctor left the room. Despite it being against the hospital rules, he took out his mobile phone, which was somehow still in his pocket, and dialed the contact saved as "Clay Terran".
It took only a few rings to get an answer.
"This is Clay, right? Please, don't be alarmed...But it's my fault, Apollo's..."
He was in the hospital faster than should be humanly possible.
Kristoph knew that Clay was in the hospital even before he had entered the room, he could hear Clay's shouts from the counter outside, and his fast-paced, heavy footsteps which resounded throughout the hospital, before the door flung open and the One and Only Great Clay Terran burst into the room.
He practically flew to Apollo's and Kristoph's side.
"How's Apollo?" Clay asked frantically, the words left his mouth before he could even allow himself to breathe.
"The same." Kristoph replied, burying his face in his uninjured hand, "I'm so sorry, this is all my fault. If only I-"
Clay returned no words, but he instead wrapped his arms around Kristoph. Kristoph normally disliked contact with another person, but Clay was almost like a son to him, as Apollo was, and it was a comforting gesture. Kristoph didn't return the hug, but he offered silence, which Clay didn't mind and returned.
The two of them were watching Apollo for hours.
He would solve this case for Apollo, nothing would change his mind.
True to his word, he took on the case despite his injury. He took his rightful stand at the defense's bench right before he was replaced by another attorney, but it felt too quiet, too lonely, too empty, without Apollo by his side.
He pointed out the gunpowder to the courtroom, and although nobody believed him at first, they sent a detective to investigate, and true enough, there was gunpowder. That was instant requital for his client, and instant conviction for the witness, who was the only person aside from the politician who had entered the office that entire day. He also brought up the assault, proving that it was the same witness who had assaulted them upon finding out that there was still gunpowder at the scene.
The winning was an amazing feeling, but Kristoph didn't feel happy. His victory was only thanks to Apollo, who was now in the hospital because of him.
He exited the courtroom and made a beeline back to the hospital, not even bothering to ask the client for his payment. All the money didn't matter to him, Apollo was the only thing on his mind right now.
Clay turned to the door the instant he heard the door creaking open.
"I won the case." Kristoph's words were mostly directed to Apollo, Clay smiled at him.
"Congratulations." Clay said, before turning back to Apollo, "I'm sure he'd like to hear that."
Bless the Heavens, because right as he said that, Apollo let out a small groan.
"Apollo!" Kristoph and Clay exclaimed at the same time. Apollo winced a little, before opening his eyes, and then wincing again at the light.
It seemed like Apollo had been reading enough books to know what was going on too, "...Hospital...?" He muttered, his head lolling to the side to face Clay and Kristoph.
"Apollo! You're awake! Thank the stars!" Tears could be seen forming in Clay's eyes as he grasped Apollo's hand in both of his own. Kristoph felt the corners of his lips tugging upwards, he finally decided to let his tears free.
"We've won the case, Apollo." Kristoph added, feeling relief wash over himself and almost feeling tears in his own eyes, "And it's all thanks to you."
But Apollo blinked, staring at Kristoph with that same burning gaze he had used on the first day they met.
"Excuse me, Sir, but...Who are you, exactly?"
The temperature of the room dropped by a thousand and one degrees. Clay stared at Apollo slack-jawed, Kristoph's eyes widened, feeling tears brim in his eyes for a whole different reason now.
"Apollo...You don't remember him?" Clay asked, before placing a hand on his own chest, "Tell me, Apollo, what's your name? What's my name? Do you remember?"
"Yeah, like you said, my name's Apollo. Apollo Justice." Apollo replied, "You're my best friend, Clay Terran." Apollo returned his stare to Kristoph, "But...Who's this man?"
"You don't know? Really, really don't know?" Clay asked. Apollo nodded, and Clay's face fell, turning to Kristoph.
"He has amnesia." Kristoph stated the obvious, keeping his teeth clenched. He felt tempted to shout in anger, his bond forged with Apollo, all forgotten just like that? He knew he shouldn't had let Apollo to such a dangerous crime scene, damn it. It was all his fault. Stupid, stupid, stupid...
"Yeah..." Clay responded, before placing a hand on Kristoph's shoulder again, "I'm sorry, Mister Gavin." But Kristoph shook his head, his gaze softening on Apollo.
"It's fine, Clay." Kristoph stood up, "I deserved this anyway. It's my fault, it's only fair his mind rids of a threat." And with that, Kristoph left the room, ignoring the dampness on his cheeks.
Author's notes: Hot dang this may as well be a separate story in itself. And I wrote this all in one day...(And I thought the past tense of "write" is "writ" something's wrong with my brain today)
Well...Yeah, I don't know. Amnesiac!Apollo was the only way I could think of in which Apollo could forget Kristoph and leave the office and come back later as a fully-fledged lawyer.
And yeah, this is a really bad story, OOC, yada yada yada I think you can see it from Mars. And I don't know how guns work so pretend they just work this way. And I know gunpowder would be something the police could find immediately but sshhhh I just need this to work.
Anyways, this is the second-last chapter, I think. Please R&R and please don't kill me for this. /runs off