In the Moon's Image

by EstelRaca

As if everything else that happened during the courtroom bombing wasn't enough, Apollo was also bitten by a werewolf. In her defense, Juniper didn't remember biting Apollo. And because being an unwitting werewolf isn't bad enough, things get even more complicated when Apollo accidentally bites someone else-a crime punishable by death in werewolf society.

10. Chapter Nine: The Morning Sun

Chapter Nine: The Morning Sun

Apollo wakes feeling absolutely amazing.

It's a familiar feeling, one that brings with it a wave of deja vu, and he squints up at a ceiling that doesn't seem quite right. His ceiling is a pale, plain white; this one has a swirling design worked into what is an almost blindingly bright reflection of all the visible wavelengths of color.

The phrase is one that Clay would use, when they were younger and Clay was still learning about spectrums and how they related to stars, and with the phrase comes knowledge.

Clay is dead.

Except Clay is a ghost.

And Apollo knows that because Apollo is a werewolf, and the ceiling up above is not familiar because it is not his ceiling, but rather Chief Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth's. At least it is if nothing unexpected happened last night, like their packs deciding to go eat a neighbor.

They didn't. Apollo's memories of the night are jumbled and unfamiliar, almost like a memory of a memory, but from what he recalls they just played about the house. Ate—and he is really glad, abruptly, that the memories aren't clearer. Chased each other and Clay's ghost, and Apollo can feel his fingers and jaw clenching, instincts rearing up again despite the pale sunlight reaching in the window to caress his face. Perhaps it will be best to think about what the lingering feeling of pack means when he's had a chance to eat and dress.

When he's disentangled himself from the knot of naked people that he is apparently in the center of.

Apollo lifts his head, studying the scene he's embedded in with a growing feeling of dismay. On the plus side, he's now almost entirely certain they didn't do anything terrible like eat the neighbors or the neighbors' pets last night. On the minus side, there is a very naked Klavier Gavin sprawled with his head on Apollo's stomach, and an equally naked Juniper Woods with her head on Apollo's chest; Hugh and Robin apparently decided that Juniper was a better pillow than Apollo, Robin draped awkwardly over Juniper's lower back, Hugh using one of Juniper's thighs as a pillow.

While Apollo is still trying to decide if he should just bolt upright and make a run for it or try to surreptitiously wake everyone, Juniper opens her eyes and smiles at him.

"Ah..." Apollo clears his throat, his tongue seeming to stumble over words. "Good morning?"

"It is." Juniper stretches, her arms above her head, her back arching. The movement apparently jolts Robin and Hugh into wakefulness, and they begin stirring and stretching themselves. "That wasn't a perfect full moon, but it was still pretty glorious."

"It was something." Apollo averts his eyes from Juniper as she sits up, trying not to shiver at the loss of the body heat and the physical contact against him. His left hand has begun moving, without his permission, and his fingers have almost made contact with Klavier's head when he stops himself. This is awkward enough as it is; he doesn't need to start petting Klavier, too. "Prosecutor Gavin?"

A shift of the body that's still atop him, a half-hearted moan, and Apollo winces. Given the state Klavier had been in right before they became wolves, probably best to avoid calling him Gavin, at least until he knows Klavier's all right. "Klavier?"

A low, questioning noise, and Klavier raises his head off Apollo's stomach, blue eyes blinking uncertainly.

Now that Klavier's weight has been lifted off him, too, Apollo decides to try to regain as much dignity as he can. His clothes unfortunately aren't within easy reach, their wolves apparently having decided to bed down in the living room, but he can at least not leave himself quite so exposed.

Klavier watches him, head tilted just slightly, a smile playing about the man's lips. Placing both hand palm-down on the ground, he stretches, his body arching in a very canine way. His hair flies about his head, more disheveled than Apollo ever imagined he'd see it, but the general air that he gives off is healthy and playful.

It's a step up from burning blood and roiling skin, but there's still something not quite... right about it. Not quite Klavier, or... Klavier without a lot of the ticks and trauma that make him... him.

"Klavier?" Leaning forward, Apollo tries to catch and hold Klavier's gaze.

He probably should have seen the lunge coming. It's rather difficult to hide intent to commit actions when one isn't wearing clothes. In his defense, Apollo is fairly certain there wasn't much time between when the thought entered Klavier's head and when he acted on it, and he's also fairly certain staring at Klavier's hips and center of mass while the man is naked would be... disrespectful.

So Apollo is unprepared for the leap, and Klavier's mass sends them both sprawling onto the floor, the well-cared-for wood squeaking slightly in protest.

"Gavin!" A combination of exasperation and censure fills Apollo's voice, and he immediately strives to reverse their positions, with himself on top of Klavier.

Klavier doesn't fight him, burying his nose in Apollo's hair and inhaling deeply.

"Prosecutor Gavin!" There is suppressed laughter in Juniper's voice as her hand reaches out to grab Klavier's shoulder.

Apollo snaps at her fingers, a growl rumbling low in his throat. Klavier is his, and... and...

And he is naked, holding a blinking, confused Klavier tight to his chest while Juniper and her two wolves fall into a defensive arrangement in front of him.

"I'm sorry, Apollo." Juniper doesn't lower her head, but she does avert her eyes to the left. "Tonight's the last night of the full moon. Today should be better than yesterday, especially since you'll recognize what's happening, but your wolf will still be quite ascendant."

"For... all of us, ja?" Klavier's voice is hoarse, his German accent thick. His body is warm and relaxed against Apollo's, though.

Juniper nods. "For all of us. We can start working on meditation techniques this morning, if you'd like, to try to make it easier to avoid being moon-drunk. And our wolves played hard last night, so it shouldn't be too bad."

"So far..." Klavier huffs out a breath, the air warm against Apollo's skin. His chest shakes under Apollo's hand, and after a moment Apollo realizes that Klavier is laughing near-silently. "So far it has not been so bad."

Shoving Klavier away from him, feeling his face turn bright red, Apollo scowls at the blond man.

If Klavier notices, he certainly doesn't seem to care. The man is busy studying his hands as though they're the strangest thing he's ever seen, moving each digit carefully. When he finally raises his head, apparently noticing Apollo's scrutiny, he smiles, a genuine, happy expression.

Well. This is good, at least. Klavier being sane and alive is very good, and they'll figure out the rest of it once they've taken care of other business.

"Oh, good, you're awake!" Trucy grins over the top of a stack of clothes as she bounds into the room. She is wearing a set of dark blue pajamas, her feet in little cat-headed slippers. "You guys were so cute last night. It was absolutely wonderful, getting to play with you and watch you play. But Uncle Edgeworth says it's time to get everyone looking civilized. So..."

Trucy walks around the room, distributing clothes. Robin, Hugh, and Juniper's clothes look like they've been washed and neatly pressed. Klavier is handed a new polo shirt, this time white rather than one of the varying shades of magenta that seem to predominate about the house, and his pants; Apollo gratefully accepts the same set of old clothes that he was wearing yesterday, though he's a bit perturbed to see that someone apparently ironed the sweatpants.

Trucy smiles apologetically to Apollo when he accepts the clothes, though Apollo is really just grateful to see them. "We'll go get you some of your own clothes while you guys sort out the whole werewolf thing. But in the meantime, there are two showers—one just past your room, Klavier, and then one in the master bedroom that Uncle Edgeworth has said werewolves can use provided you agree to clean any fur out of the shower drain. He prefers his werewolves without blood on them."

Apollo glances around the room. Are those bloodstains still, showing sometimes under Klavier's hair? Even if they aren't, a shower sounds absolutely heavenly right now. Though a shower will mean leaving Klavier alone with—

With Juniper and her pack, who are trying to help them, and Apollo presses one thumb to the center of his forehead. He and Klavier are definitely going to have to talk about this.

"Uncle Edgeworth and I have been making breakfast, so as soon as you're done showering, come into the kitchen and I'll make sure you're well fed!"

Apollo's stomach growls, hunger similar to what he felt yesterday morning suddenly making itself known. Trucy grins at him, looking far too eager and pleased with herself.

"Right." Once again Apollo tries to keep his face from turning bright red. "Trucy, why don't you show Klavier down to the master suite's bathroom?"

Neither Trucy nor Klavier complain, and Apollo is grateful to see a little bit more of Klavier and a bit less of the wolf in the way the prosecutor trails after Trucy, his clothes held strategically but his tone light as he asks the young woman where everyone else is.

Resisting the urge to sigh in relief, Apollo turns to Juniper. "Ms. Woods, did you—"

"Go shower, Apollo." Juniper has shrugged into her shirt, at least, and the other two members of her pack are also busily donning clothing. "We'll trade off when you and Klavier are done."

Hugh makes a face. "Though given the way Gavin likes to dress and style his hair, that may be a small eternity."

Robin pokes him in the side with one armless sleeve of her blouse as she struggles into it. "Since you're the one among us who spends the most time on his looks, you don't get to tease others about it."

Not wanting to get caught up in discussions of hygiene, Apollo retreats back toward the bathroom. The idea of a warm shower right now—of something decidedly human—has never appealed to him so much.

XXX

Klavier stands with his face turned up to the hot water, his hands massaging through his hair, rinsing the last of the shampoo away.

The heat is glorious; the feel of the water as it trickles over his body is glorious; everything is glorious, right now.

It's a feeling he recognizes, though he's done nothing to earn it. Usually he would feel like this after he finished recording a song, when he could finally say that something he crafted was done, was ready to be released out into the wilds of the world. Often he would feel like this after winning a court case, when he fought hard and fought well, winning his conviction and impressing the gallery both.

He still feels it, sometimes, after a trial has gone well, though not so often as he did before the Misham case. Right now even thoughts of the Misham trial do nothing to dull the bright, fizzing happiness spiraling out through his body with every beat of his heart, snapping and crackling across his thoughts, and that is how he knows the feeling is at least partially false. Or... to say it is false is to do a disservice to himself, he supposes. At least partially chemical, then, a change in the neurotransmitters flittering around between neurons, but at least it is a much more pleasant experience than what happened yesterday.

Werewolfism—apparently a close relative to bipolar disorder. Not recommended for artists, those with PTSD, or those with ghosts of any kind in their past. Klavier finishes rinsing his hair and braces his hands against the wall in front of him, continuing to stand with the hot water pounding against his body. The feel of the drops against skin that is still too-sensitive helps him feel human, helps keep him from feeling dizzy when he looks down and sees exactly how high up six feet puts a person.

He can handle those quirks, though. He can think again, today, can remember a linear order of events, doesn't have to dig and strain after every connection between points of time.

He's alive, when he very well may not have been, and the world is beautiful, and though he knows enough to watch himself—to try to keep himself from doing anything too embarrassing—he is also going to revel in this feeling while he can.

Klavier grants himself another five minutes in the shower, during which he scrubs his body over and over again with the least-overwhelmingly-scented wash that he can find, eradicating any trace of blood and sweat from his skin. Then he gives himself one final rinse and carefully steps out of the shower, using a hand against an object to balance himself the whole time. Slipping into his pants takes a lot longer than usual, his skin overly sensitive to the rub of the material, and he has to wait until he is slightly less damp or risk falling over.

They are his pants and underwear, though, the scent not completely washed away by whoever cleaned and ironed them, and he appreciates that. As much as he respects and likes the chief prosecutor, it's good to have something familiar, as well.

"Best to keep track of who we are, ja?" Klavier smiles at the man in the mirror, resisting a strange urge to howl, joy dancing through his veins, a drug too pure for money to buy. Brushing his hair out, wincing as tangles catch and reluctantly release, Klavier admires his reflection. He looks good, his color healthy and warm even under the bright bathroom lights, his eyes sharp and twinkling when he smiles.

Sliding his borrowed white polo shirt on, Klavier spends a moment just breathing in the comforting scent of the Chief Prosecutor, enjoying the feel of something clean and soft against his skin. Then he gives his head a shake, reminding himself to focus, and runs the brush through his hair once more. He tries to blow-dry his hair, but the sound and scent of the machine both grate against him too much, and he decides to instead let it air-dry.

Gathering the blond strands back in a simple ponytail, he uses a girl's butterfly barrette that he found amidst a carefully organized stack in one of the drawers next to the sink to hold it in place. The shirt is a size too big for him, but a few adjustments and his damp hair hung over his left shoulder makes him look comfortable and classy rather than like a child playing dress-up.

"Prosecutor Gavin!" The knock at the door is sharp and fast, the female voice that accompanies it hovering somewhere around embarrassment.

"Yes, Fraulein Psychologist?" Trucy had included a small resealable sandwich bag with all of his jewelry in his clothes pile, and Klavier slides on his necklace, tucking the chain down under his shirt. His rings feel strange against his fingers, too slick and cool, and he spends a second just clenching and unclenching his hands, studying them.

"I need to get ready to go to the courthouse, and Junie stole the other bathroom as soon as Apollo was out, so if there's any way you could maybe hurry up...?"

"The door is unlocked, fraulein." Klavier hadn't wanted someone to have to break down the door in the event he needed assistance, however unlikely such an occurrence feels right now. "And I am decent. Go ahead and open it; I will be exiting in a moment."

The door slides open hesitantly as Klavier is busy fishing his earring from the little bag, and Athena's head pops in. "Hi. Sorry. Like I said, I wouldn't bother you but—"

"No worries. One must look their best in court." Klavier smiles, his fingers searching to find the small hole in his earlobe and slide the post of the silver loop home.

And searching, and searching. Frowning, Klavier leans closer to the mirror, angling his head so that he can see the smooth, unbroken skin of his ear clearly.

"Huh." Athena looks between the earring and his ear. "I think you may want to invest in some nice-looking clip-ons."

"I suspect you are right." Pocketing the earring, Klavier smiles ruefully, his fingers once more fiddling with the unbroken skin of his earlobe. Strange, to suddenly lose an attribute of himself that has been there for over a decade. "Or get very good at piercing my own ears."

"That's possible, too." Athena dumps a pile of clothes, toothbrush, deodorant, and hairbrush on the counter in front of her. Her eyes flick to him, her expression becoming more uncertain, her voice tentative. "You sound... good today. Happy."

"I feel good today." Smiling at the young woman, Klavier steps away from the sink, towards the bathroom door. Holding his arms out to the side, he grins. "I look good, I feel good, I am good. I doubt I will feel this good for very long—I think at least part of it is the moon—but for now, I am quite content with how things are."

"Good." Athena smiles, her hands fiddling with her toothbrush. "And if you ever need to talk about anything..."

"I will let you know." Placing a hand to his heart, Klavier inclines his head. "Danke, Athena Cykes. For all that you did yesterday, and for your kindness today."

"No problem." Her smile gives way to a broader grin, and the little robot on her chest flares bright green as Athena watches him. Picking up and responding to the joy in his voice? Perhaps. Or just relieved and happy because the dark uncertainty of yesterday has given way to a manageable if not perfect present. "You're one of us, Klavier. Team Truth and Justice has to stick together, yes?"

A wave of joy so intense it's almost painful flows out from Klavier's heart, and he takes a step forward without meaning to. Wanting to touch Athena, to nuzzle against her neck, to thank her for the kind words and the kind touch yesterday, and the phantom sensation of a tail waving behind him is the only thing that brings him up short.

Human. He is human, and Athena would not appreciate him suddenly nuzzling up against her.

Athena's brows draw together. "Klavier? You all right?"

Klavier smiles ruefully, his right hand fiddling with his damp bangs. "I feel fine, and I think, with time and a chance to work this out, I will be fine."

"You'll have plenty of time." Athena glances down at the watch sitting atop her pile of clothes. "Though speaking of time..."

"I am gone, I am gone!" Klavier laughs as he backs out the door. "Enjoy your shower, fraulein. And may the truth win out in court."

Athena is grinning when she shuts the door behind him, and Klavier closes his eyes, drawing a deep breath and trying to decide where he should go next, since bounding about the house on all fours is likely a poor choice.

The smell of something cooking wafts through the hallway on an errant air current, and Klavier's decision is instantly made. He's not usually a breakfast person, being a night owl by choice and vocation whenever his prosecuting schedule allowed for all of his adult life. Right now, though, breakfast sounds like the best option in the world.

"Klavier! Good morning part two." Trucy's tone is cheerful, though Klavier isn't a hundred percent certain how she identified him, as her eyes are fixed on the frying pan in front of her. Sometime during his shower she changed out of her pajamas, and she now stands in front of the stove, decked out in her usual magician's outfit but with an apron thrown over it. Dumping an omelet from the frying pan she's working at onto a plate, she adds two slices of bread and a handful of bacon from towering stacks at her side and turns to present the plate to Klavier. The apron is embroidered with a top hat and the words Magic in the Kitchen, all in Trucy's favorite blue. "Here you go! Just the way you like it."

Using his finger to poke apart a piece of the omelet, Klavier arches one eyebrow. It is just the way he likes it, though right now he's fairly certain he would eat anything. "How did you—"

"An interview you did, when you were touring with the Gavinners." Trucy grins, turning back to the oven. "If you're still hungry when that's gone, I can make you another."

"I appreciate the thought, and this looks amazing, but it's already more than I would usually eat for breakfast." It's more than he would eat most days, actually, though right now it is taking a supreme act of will not to start drooling or simply dive face-first into the meal. Human. He is human, and Trucy doesn't want to see him eating the meal she carefully made him as though he were a dog.

"Junie says that you'll be extra hungry today, because it's another full moon day. It takes a lot of energy to transform, and between the moon and learning how to control your transformation she says to just eat as much as you want, you'll burn it off. So go and eat, silly." Making a shooing motion with her hands, Trucy picks up three eggs, spinning them around in a circle on her palm. "What to make for Junie and her people... I think I'm just going to scramble up some eggs for them, to start with. No one minds scrambled eggs."

Clearly having been dismissed, Klavier turns his attention to finding somewhere to sit and eat.

The obvious answer is to settle at the table, but Chief Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth is already sitting there. An empty plate and a cup of tea sit on the table in front of him, a small smattering of bread crumbs the only proof that there was once food on the plate. He is already impeccably dressed for work, his suit free of wrinkles and wolf hair both. One leg is crossed over the other, a more relaxed posture than Klavier is used to seeing him in, but otherwise he could be transported unchanged to his desk at work and no one would be the wiser.

A newspaper is spread open in front of him, and there is a small frown on his face as he stares through his glasses at some article on an inner page. An article on how to cope with your subordinates unexpectedly becoming werewolves, perhaps? Klavier smiles, and takes a hesitant step toward the table.

"Guten Morgen, Gavin." Edgeworth doesn't put the paper aside when he greets Klavier. "You seem to be looking well."

"I am feeling well, Herr Katze." Picking up a piece of toast, Klavier piles a portion of omelet onto it and begins tearing bites off with relish.

Edgeworth's eyes give the tiniest little roll at the nickname, and Klavier can feel a grin pulling at his mouth again. While he has nothing but respect for the man who has been his boss for well over a year now, sometimes it's nice to do what he can to help Edgeworth relax a little bit.

"There is silverware, Gavin. Ms. Woods says that silver isn't toxic to you unless ingested or otherwise inserted past the skin barrier, so no need to be wary." Edgeworth pushes a beautifully-wrapped set towards him, the edges of the cloth napkins all monogrammed with a stylized M.E., and Klavier looks down at his plate and his egg-covered hands.

"Sorry." Licking his fingers clean, Klavier unrolls the napkin.

"It's all right." Folding the paper, Edgeworth settles it in the center of the table. "If I understand properly, there will be a period of... adjustment... during which time usual habits may be... less habitual. If eating rapidly and with your hands is the worst offense given, I think we will all be happy."

"True enough." Looking down at his plate, Klavier is surprised to see over half of the omelet already gone, as well as both slices of toast. Hopefully Juniper is right about them burning calories rapidly around the full moon, because he's still starving. "If I remember correctly, you personally took over my case yesterday?"

"I did." A tiny smile touches Edgeworth's mouth. "And before you ask, no, you can't assist me today. I want you to stay here and learn all that you can as quickly as you can about handling your new... condition."

Klavier raises both eyebrows now, amused at the way Edgeworth dances around naming the problem. He supposes there are only so many people who can comfortably say the word werewolf when referring to the person in front of them, though. "Danke, Herr Katze. For giving us a place to go yesterday, and for... handling this all very well."

"It's not the first strange incident I've encountered." Edgeworth grimaces. "And it likely won't be the last. We'll have to find somewhere else for you and Mr. Justice to transform on later full moons, especially given your penchant for singing and my dislike of sleeping with earplugs in unless absolutely necessary, but it worked well enough as a stop-gap measure."

"We can probably use my place." The rest of the food on Klavier's plate has mysteriously disappeared, and he spends a moment meticulously licking his fingers clean again, relishing the taste. It is apparently a good thing his and Daryan's flirtation with the vegan lifestyle lasted all of forty-eight hours, because between his flashes of memory of the wolf's appetite last night and his reaction to foods today, he suspects the diet would not have survived this new twist in his life path. "I designed my house so that my band could practice as loudly as we want without worrying about the neighbors, and I have space. Plus, a rock star is supposed to be eccentric and have eccentric pets, ja?"

"I suppose it's one possibility, if Justice doesn't mind." Edgeworth's index finger taps against the table. "Not for tonight, though. I want both of you here where we can watch over you still tonight. Plus I have a guest coming here who will hopefully be able to help with... all of this."

Klavier sits up a bit straighter. "A guest?"

"You're not the first werewolves I've known." A slight twist of his mouth at the word werewolves, though Edgeworth is studying Klavier evenly, without the slightest hint of censure or anger. Uncomfortable with the situation, but not with those involved, and Klavier forces his hands to latch onto the edge of the table.

He will not bound forward and press himself to Edgeworth, nuzzling the other man's neck. He will be reasonable and respectable and human. "Anyone that I may know?"

Edgeworth considers for a moment. "I'll allow my guest to introduce himself, with whatever information he sees fit to share. He's a well-respected and very dominant werewolf, though, and if anyone should be able to help you and Mr. Justice clear up the situation with the local alphas, it will be him. I'll call and let you know when he's coming in."

"I'm eager to meet him." Leaning back in his chair, Klavier looks around the kitchen. "Though speaking of Herr Forehead..."

"He's in the living room again, practicing trying to see Clay." Trucy dumps another omelet onto Klavier's plate. "Junie and her two wolves are still in the bathroom; Athena's in your bathroom, though she already ate and she's going to have to run if she wants to make it to the courthouse in time. Daddy's still sleeping, because it took him until about two thirty to accept that Uncle Edgeworth was right and wearing earplugs and trying to ignore you guys was the better part of valor when it came to sleep."

A yawn twists and slows the last of Trucy's words, and she covers it with her free hand as she sets the frying pan back on the stove.

Klavier has already eaten half of his omelet, though he swallows the mouthful he is on rather guiltily. "Were we really that annoying last night?"

"Nah." Coming to stand beside his chair, Trucy pats him on the shoulder, grinning once more. "You guys were really cute and awesome, actually. I wanted to play with you more, but Daddy and Uncle Edgeworth insisted I have to wait until you've got better control. Your wolf does like to sing, though, and even though you'd stop when we asked you to, you didn't seem to remember for more than twenty minutes at a time that you weren't supposed to be howling."

Edgeworth sighs. "Hopefully that's something that will improve with time and practice."

"Or perhaps I will need to enter a new genre of music. I hear that beautiful things can be done with wolf howls accompanying other instruments." Grinning, Klavier shoves his plate away from himself, so that he isn't tempted to bend down and lick it and to prevent Trucy from adding a refill that he would almost certainly eat. "I can even credit my wolf. Perhaps I should call him Gitarre?"

Edgeworth's eyes narrow, and Klavier laughs, his toes curling as he forcibly curbs any other physical responses to the energy and ecstasy glittering through his veins again.

Shaking his head, Edgeworth picks up the paper again. "Go find Justice, Gavin. I'm sure the two of you have a great deal to talk about."

That's true. Plus Klavier wants to be with Apollo, to make sure his alpha—

Pressing two fingers to his forehead, Klavier draws a shaky breath, euphoria temporarily pushed aside.

Yes, he and Apollo definitely need to talk.

Standing, Klavier smiles at Trucy. "Thank you for the meal, Fraulein Magician. You are an amazing lifesaver."

Trucy grins, her head ducking down shyly as she returns to the stove to continue cooking. "It's no problem. I'm just glad to help. And don't worry about the case, you or Apollo. Me and Athena and Uncle Edgeworth will take care of it."

"I trust the three of you to do just that." Patting the girl on the shoulder—inhaling a mouthful of her scent, and it is beautiful, full of spice and surety and something else that is terribly familiar, that he thinks he's smelled before off someone else—Klavier heads toward the door into the living room.

He and Apollo apparently have all day to figure out more about being werewolves, but it's likely best they discuss at least this one issue sooner rather than later.

XXX

Apollo closes his eyes, drawing slow, even breaths in through his mouth. It's slightly less distracting to breathe through his mouth than through his nose, though scents seem to be enhanced either way. Not that he is paying attention to the scents right now—to the soft plant-and-dog mixture that is Juniper, to the clay-and-fire that is Robin, to the oil-and-books-and-sweat that is Hugh, to the wire-and-ink smell that is Klavier, is his—

There.

Apollo tries to ignore the thoughts that had been cascading through his head, to pretend he doesn't understand what they are and what they mean as he latches on to the power that rose with them. His blood tingles, a shiver of fire along all his veins, but he isn't going to allow himself to transform. Not all of him, at least, and he tries to picture the fire concentrating itself in his eyes, in his ears.

Moonlight seems to play behind his eyelids, silver sparks of lightning, and he opens them tentatively.

"Apollo?" Clay is sitting cross-legged in front of him, upper body tilting first to the right and then to the left. "Are you managing it?"

"I can hear you." Apollo's voice is hoarse, and he almost loses his grasp on the power, Clay's image flickering in and out of focus. Lunging after the power, Apollo finds himself having to grit his teeth, his right hand clutching onto his bracelet as he desperately pictures his human form. He wants to talk, and if they're going to talk he needs to—

"Can you still see me?" One of Clay's hands waves back and forth in front of Apollo's face.

Apollo resists the urge to bite the appendage, giving a nod, a smile breaking across his face. He's doing it. It will hopefully get easier, with practice, with more training from Juniper, but he's only been a werewolf for forty-eight hours and he's already—

"What about now?" A wicked grin flicks across Clay's face, and he raises his hands to either side of his head, waggling his fingers. "Am I a deer? An alien?" The smile widens, and Clay begins making more and more contorted faces. "A Lovecraftian monster from the depths of the universe, come to—"

He tries not to, but Apollo can't quite keep from laughing, and the laughter shatters his fragile control on his power.

He doesn't fall into his wolf form, though. The sun is bright where it pounds through the window behind him, and Apollo holds on to the feel of it against his neck, the way it warms the back of his shirt, and he keeps his human shape.

Once he's stopped laughing, Apollo glares out at the room that looks empty. He can't see or hear Clay at the moment, but he has little doubt that Clay can see and hear him. "That's cheating, you know. Trying to make me laugh. Also not very helpful."

"Perhaps he just likes the look on your face when you laugh."

Apollo hadn't heard anyone else come into the room, and he turns to the door with a snarl that is much more... snarly than it would have been two days ago.

Klavier's eyes flick to the side, but he doesn't back away, doesn't lower his head. His hands are shoved into his pockets, his borrowed clothes somehow looking comfortable and cozy on him, where Apollo's look silly.

Schooling his expression back into neutrality, Apollo scrambles to his feet. "Sorry. Didn't notice you coming in."

"That's all right. I was quiet." Klavier smiles, his usual bright grin, though his eyes are more wary and considering as they study Apollo in tangential glances. "I hope I am not interrupting?"

"Nothing I can't try again later." Rubbing at his neck, Apollo resists the urge to rise up on his toes. This is good, him and Klavier standing here talking like normal humans. "Just trying to get a better handle on our gifts and what we can do. Because we can talk to ghosts, apparently."

Klavier is silent for several seconds, his blue eyes sweeping slowly over the room. They pause, a handful of times, and Apollo isn't sure if he's seeing anything or not. When Klavier speaks, his voice is low and thoughtful. "I think... I remember. From last night. Clay Terran, wasn't it?"

"Yeah." Apollo nods, his throat tightening as it always does when he's discussing Clay. "I don't know how much you heard or were told or remember from yesterday but he's, uh... been following me around, apparently. He helped take care of me the night before last, and he helped keep me from doing anything more stupid after I bit you."

Silence hangs between them, thick, awkward, and Apollo finds himself fighting dual urges—to leap forward and press himself close to Klavier, to slink back with his tail between his legs. Neither is a particularly welcome feeling, or much like him, and he finds his jaw clenching, anger rising to take the place of confusion and contradiction.

Which is the last thing he needs, and he draws a shuddering breath, fire burning hot through his veins again. An ice-cold hand closes on his elbow, a frigid wind whispers calm into his ear, and Apollo forces his tongue to work again. "I'm sorry. About yesterday."

Klavier tilts his head, a very canine gesture of uncertainty. "About... Changing me?"

Amongst other things, but that's a good place to start. "Yeah. I was confused. I didn't know what was happening, and the wolf... I'm sorry. I wouldn't have hurt you, if I had any control over it."

Klavier nods, his expression still pensive, thoughtful. "It wasn't something I did. It was just a situation where I was in the wrong place at the wrong time."

They aren't questions. They're statements, more Klavier speaking to himself than to Apollo, but Apollo answers anyway. "I think I would have bitten anyone who touched me right then."

"I understand." A wry smile, a lifting of his right hand to toy with his damp bangs, and Klavier gives the briefest shrug as he studies Apollo more squarely. "Yesterday was miserable. I imagine it was even more horrifying and frightening for you, not knowing what was happening or why."

"It's really not something I'd like to go through again. But it's over." Apollo hesitates, then smiles himself. "We both made it through. We're both fine."

"Fine and better than fine." Smile widening, Klavier takes a step forward, his whole body seeming to become more vibrant as he approaches Apollo. "It was not such a bad night, when all was said and done."

Pack. Pack, pack, pack, Apollo's wolf howls with every beat of his heart, wanting to lunge forward and gather the other man into a protective embrace, but he has no right to ask that of Klavier—certainly no right to force it on him, after all that happened. "It... uh... it's definitely better than what comes before. The wolf..."

The wolf is an idiot, a tense, fierce ball of stupidity, and Apollo turns away from Klavier, takes a few steps sideways to increase the distance between them. He can't move backwards—the wolf won't allow retreat, and it's already lingering far too close to the surface, silver fire under his skin, barely constrained by the sunlight flooding the room.

Klavier doesn't follow him, for which Apollo is grateful, and Klavier's eyes stop meeting his, not challenging. When the prosecutor speaks, it's in a quiet, contemplative tone as he shoves both hands back in his pockets. "Lebensbejahend."

Apollo blinks. "Does that come in English?"

"Not really." Another smile, a soft laugh, and there is true joy in both, though still overlaid with a hesitance. "It is... I suppose the best translation would be yes-life. It is a feeling—the feeling you have when the beauty and the wonder in the world are overflowing, and you want to embrace them. It is that feeling when every atom of you wants to say yes to living. It is... a good feeling."

Too many tangled emotions lie over that last statement, emotions that Apollo can hear and smell and taste in his mouth, grief and guilt and longing. Klavier's stance is still loose, though, his expression considering rather than caged, and so Apollo manages to stay where he is, wrapping his arms around his own chest in lieu of doing something more embarrassing.

"It's there. In the wolf. In the moon. I suspect it will fade, as the full moon fades, but it's a pleasant feeling. A good feeling. One I am glad to have." Klavier's smile becomes more rueful. "Do you feel it, Herr Justice?"

He can. He's been trying to push it aside, along with everything else—it feels wrong, to revel in simple existence, when his best friend's ghost is sitting in front of him. It feels alien, after all that the last weeks have brought. Licking his lips, Apollo nods. "Yeah. I feel it."

"There are a great many feelings that come with being a werwolf, I think." Klavier's hand buries itself in his hair, and his eyes once more lock on Apollo's. "But if that is the main one, the core of the moon-change, then they cannot be that bad, ja?"

Now there is a question, a plea for reassurance, and Apollo gives as much as he can. "Juniper says it's still us. That even with the wolf instincts and the full moon and the change and everything, at the very basic level it's still our... souls, I guess. Our core. And... well... if it's us, then we'll be fine."

Klavier grins, a silent laugh shivering its way along his frame again for a second. "You could never be anything other than fine, Herr Forehead."

Narrowing his eyes, Apollo decides he can forgive the nickname this time. He did just turn the guy into a werewolf yesterday. Accidentally, but still. "Did you want to practice with me? Either the seeing ghosts, or just... turning into a wolf? It does get easier to control, the more you practice."

"While I appreciate your zeal, I think we should save the practice for when someone with a bit more experience is about. Just in case."

Klavier doesn't say 'you've only been a werewolf for a day longer than me, idiot', but Apollo still finds himself blushing anyway.

"Besides." Rocking back on his heels, his bare toes curling, Klavier glances away from Apollo again. "There is... something else we should probably discuss."

Apollo winces, suspecting what's to come.

"Did Ms. Woods..." Klavier hesitates, his accent thickening. "Did she say anything about packs, or about... hierarchy?"

Right.

Well, Apollo had been thinking this is something they need to talk about. Better to face it head-on, right away, than let it continue to fester under the surface. "She did. Do you remember any of what you heard yesterday?"

"I remember..." Klavier frowns. "Actually, I remember very little in a comprehensible form. Something about werewolves needing to have packs of at least three...?"

"That's one of the rules, yeah." Apollo nods, wondering if perhaps that's all Klavier wants to clarify. Just talk about the rules, about what they have to do to survive, not about... well...

"What does it mean, though?" Klavier takes a step forward. "Being pack—this... feeling I have. What is it?"

"Werewolves don't like to be... alone." Forcing his feet to be still, to stay in place instead of crowding up into Klavier's personal space, Apollo tries to slow his heart-rate. "The pack is made up of other werewolves. It's like... family and friends, I guess. People you trust."

"The people that you transform with each full moon, ja?" Another slow, hesitant step forward, and Klavier's eyes are fixed on Apollo. "But also... more."

Keeping his eyes to Klavier's right, on the sun rising higher in the sky, Apollo tries to sort all that he learned from Juniper during their conversations yesterday into something he can easily explain to the man in front of him. "There's a... bond, I guess. Between pack-mates. It's not anything big or fancy or that really impacts much under normal circumstances, but it's there. Just... defining who's in the pack and who isn't."

Klavier nods. "Definitions are important."

"And there's one person—werewolf—who's in charge of the pack. That's the alpha." It takes all of Apollo's self-control to stay still, to keep his voice from shaking. It's silly, all of this is incredibly silly and not something he would have believed two days ago, but it's also important. It is so important, and he wants to leap forward, to pounce on Klavier and beg him not to choose a different pack, but he can't do that. "The alpha makes sure everyone follows the rules—no biting people, no giving away the werewolf secrets—and takes care of the rest of the pack. Everyone's supposed to take care of those less dominant than them, that's what Juniper says."

A low, considering noise from Klavier, but he doesn't move forward, and Apollo is grateful for that.

"Also made wolves—wolves who were Changed after someone bit them—they're not supposed to be dominant." Running a hand back through his hair, Apollo resists the urge to whine or whimper. "Or at least, that's what those who are born werewolves believe. But neither of us is particularly submissive."

One of Klavier's eyebrows arches, and his voice is quietly entertained when he speaks. "Do they know what makes a person—a werewolf—dominant versus submissive?"

"Ah..." Sweat runs down the center of Apollo's back. "There were... a few things Juniper mentioned. How confident you are. How comfortable you are being in control and giving orders. How comfortable you are accepting someone's orders."

A prowling step to the side, a twist of Klavier's mouth that Apollo has seen in court before, when there is some part of a case Klavier finds particularly distasteful, and Klavier's voice is rough and growling when he finally speaks. "An alpha can force others in their pack to do things?"

"No." Shaking his head, Apollo struggles to push aside the silly brown wolf who wants to bound up, ears pressed flat, and insist they didn't do anything like that. "Or... not from the way Juniper described it. An alpha can try to suggest things, and a submissive is likely to listen to them, but no one could make you do anything you don't want to do."

A flash of sky-blue eyes meeting his, and Klavier stands absolutely still, sunlight gleaming off his damp blond hair. "You didn't try to force me. Last night. Ms. Woods was going to, I think... or perhaps I was just worried about it? I don't know. But you didn't."

"I'd never try to force anyone in my pack to do something they didn't want to. Something they weren't comfortable with and certain of." Especially not you, he doesn't say. It doesn't need to be said. He has seen Klavier acquire most of his scars, and he sees no reason to pick at them. "To me that just seems like it's asking for trouble."

"To me, as well." Klavier relaxes, a slow untensing of muscles that Apollo hadn't even noticed becoming stiff. It's an active process, Apollo thinks, a fight against what Klavier's body instinctively wants, but he does it. "If I were to be in a pack, I think that is the only type of alpha that I could have. One who would respect me and my choices, even if he didn't have to."

"Well, unless we want to start a werewolf revolution, I don't think we have much choice about getting a pack." Apollo tries to make the words gently teasing, but they come out too flat.

"Even if we were to start a werewolf revolution—and I will, if anyone tries to go after you or Ms. Woods or myself because of this little debacle—I do not think we would have a choice." Again Klavier makes direct eye contact, but his words are soft and almost apologetic when he speaks. "I have been thinking of you as pack since I first changed. As my alpha."

A soft canine noise of elation slips out of his mouth before Apollo can stop it, and his face heats immediately. He's just glad, though—incredibly glad that Klavier has felt something similar to what he has, that Klavier understands, and when combined with the fizzing silver lightning of the wolf in his blood the joy is almost too much to contain.

Klavier leaps forward at the sound, closing most of the distance between them; he stops before he actually touches Apollo, though, taking a very deliberate step back. "Given the rules about pack sizes, it may be easier if we find another solution. Join Juniper's pack, perhaps?"

Shaking his head, Apollo forces his tongue to form human words. "I can't. I'm too dominant. I'd probably end up alpha, and Robin and Hugh weren't too keen on that idea yesterday. You could, probably. I'm not sure where you stand dominance-wise in relation to her. So... that's an option."

"Many options. Many possibilities." Klavier's hand reaches out, his fingers very gently closing around Apollo's. "But if you don't mind... I am happy to be in a pack with you."

He doesn't mean to. He intends to just stand where he is, to maybe squeeze Klavier's fingers and make an off-hand comment about how this is going to make facing off in court more interesting.

Instead Apollo ends up tackling Klavier to the floor, his chin rubbing against Klavier's neck, his shoulder, his cheek, mingling their scents, announcing to anyone who wants to know that they are pack.

Scrambling backwards off Klavier once he realizes what he's doing, Apollo buries his face in his hands. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to—I'm sorry."

Klavier is laughing as he sits up and strokes his hair back into a semblance of order, the laugh a full, pleased sound. "No need to apologize, Herr Forehead. Gitarre is happy to be in Sonne's pack, too."

"Gitarre?" Apollo trips over the pronunciation of the German word, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. "You didn't... you named your werewolf form guitar, didn't you?"

Klavier's grin just widens. "Fitting, don't you think?"

"You're unbelievable sometimes. You know that, right?" Rubbing at his neck, Apollo thinks over the rest of the sentence. "What's... the one you called me?"

"Sonne." Gesturing to the window, Klavier shrugs. "Sun. It seems fitting, given your name."

"Uh uh. My werewolf form is not having a German name. I'm not sure it's even good for us, giving the wolf a different name. Juniper and her pack don't seem to have done that." Apollo crosses his arms in front of his chest. "But if I was going to do that, I'd name him something like..."

Sol, a voice whispers in his ear.

"Sol." Apollo blurts out.

Klavier laughs again. "I assume you are going for the Latin name of our sun, yes? Well, that also happens to be the name of the Sun's personification in Germanic mythologies, so I will accept it."

A quick glance around the area they are sitting in shows no simple projectile weapons other than shoes, and given that Apollo isn't a hundred percent certain Klavier wouldn't start chewing on a shoe if he threw it at him, Apollo refrains. "How do you possibly know anything about Germanic mythology? What does that even mean?"

"Germanic mythology is Norse, German, and all the other assorted and related myths from that area. Though in a broader sense it means that as a singer I did sometimes try to incorporate symbology other than legal puns into my songs. And that there was an online course over the summer of my junior year that gave me a credit I needed to get my degree so I could take the bar and also taught me a great deal about mythologies of the world." Klavier's smile is smaller, now, full of fond reminiscence. "Sol is a good name for you, though. I can come to terms with it."

Apollo rolls his eyes, but he's smiling, too, soft joy falling like flickering firelight across his thoughts at the idea of Klavier being in his pack.

Smile fading a bit, Klavier toys with the end of his ponytail. "It won't affect us in court, will it? This... thing. Being pack."

Apollo forces himself to really think about the answer, to analyze how he acted yesterday instead of just trying to reassure Klavier. "I don't know. I'm not going to try to use us being werewolves to force you to throw a case or anything, if that's what you mean. Or try to get you to stop defending a theory. That's not how it works—not how we work. And not the kind of alpha I want to be."

Klavier's toes curl again as he smiles at Apollo, and he begins inching his way across the space between them in the most unsurreptitious attempt at surreptitiousness Apollo has ever seen.

"But..." Apollo chews on his bottom lip. "It was... intense, being in court. I mean, it usually is. It should be, deciding someone's life or death. But I really, really wanted to beat you, and, uh... well, there's a reason you got to meet Sol where you did."

Klavier finally inches to a stop next to Apollo, both of them sitting with their arms wrapped loosely around their knees, Apollo facing the window with the sun, Klavier the front door. "It's going to be a struggle for us, finding the balance between the wolf and the man when we are trying to be human predators."

"We're not predators." Apollo gives Klavier's shoulder a gentle shove. "We're just trying to find the truth, to make sure innocent people don't go to jail and guilty people don't get away with murder. But... yeah, probably we shouldn't face off in court for a while."

"Probably neither of us should be in court until we're certain we will be able to handle it." Sighing, Klavier leans to the side, his head coming to rest on Apollo's shoulder. "Hopefully that will not be a very long time."

"Hopefully." Apollo frowns, hugging his knees tighter to his chest. "My job's important to me."

"I know." Klavier's voice is soft, and his head burrows in closer to Apollo's neck.

Klavier would, Apollo thinks. Klavier had buried himself in his work after everything with Kristoph, just as Apollo has buried himself in his work now. Maybe it's not the best way to handle grief, but it's certainly productive, and it's a better way than some. Besides, Apollo thinks it's one that Clay would approve of.

Perhaps he should ask Clay, next time he manages to have a conversation with him.

"Oh man." Apollo sighs, leaning his head against Klavier's as he laughs. He's not sure it's actually funny, anything that's happening, but the laughter feels good, so he lets it bubble up and over. "Our lives are so super weird."

"They are." Klavier hums a handful of notes, his breath warm against the back of Apollo's neck. "But this doesn't seem to be a bad weird, at least. And... I'm glad it was you."

Apollo goes still and quiet.

"You're a good friend, Apollo Justice. I... trust you, more than I can trust most people now." Klavier's whole body is pressed against Apollo's side now, his right hand fisted in Apollo's borrowed sweatshirt, but it feels right. It feels comfortable, pack at his side, and Apollo leans into the contact as Klavier continues. "I don't think I would have survived last night, if you were not there. And I don't think there are many people I could accept as my alpha. But you... you I am all right with."

"I'm glad. Glad you survived and glad you're all right with this and..." Apollo blinks, surprised to find that he is shaking, that tears are threatening. Silly, when everything's worked out about as well as it possibly could. "I'm sorry, again. About biting you."

"It was not your fault. Don't worry about it anymore, Sternchen." Again Klavier hums a handful of notes, so softly Apollo doubts anyone else would be able to hear. "We will get through this together."

"We will." Apollo draws a deep breath, gathering the silver fire in his blood together again, blinking his watering eyes until they focus.

Clay is sitting cross-legged in the middle of the floor, a few feet in front of Apollo. The sun strikes him full-on, but he casts no shadow, his smile sad and wistful as he watches them.

I'm fine, Apollo mouths but doesn't say, his eyes catching and holding Clay's, willing him to understand the question.

Clay grins. "Of course you are, Pollywog."

Apollo runs his tongue over his lips, his breath shuddering in his throat, not sure how to make the question more obvious.

He sees the moment Clay understands. It is a raising of Clay's head, a flicking of Clay's gaze from Apollo to Klavier, a faltering of his smile followed by a sadder, more thoughtful one. "Go for it, 'Pollo. I'd rather you use it than not."

His head pressed to Klavier's, his eyes fixed on Clay, Apollo draws another shaking breath. "We'll get through this. Because you're fine."

Apollo can feel the moment Klavier understands, a tightening of Klavier's hand where it is still holding his shirt, a hitch to Klavier's breathing. When Klavier answers, his voice is hoarse but clear. "You're fine."

"We're fine!" Apollo and Clay shout the word; Klavier doesn't scream, but he does speak it in unison with them.

Apollo almost changes, after. The wolf dances on the edge of his control, a warm, welcoming fire that would salve away at least some of the pain in the immediacy of the moment, in the touch of Clay's hands in his fur.

Klavier holds him in his human form, Klavier's arms both wrapping around him, Klavier's voice whispering phrases in a mangle of English and German that Apollo doesn't quite understand.

"We're fine." Apollo pants out the words when he can trust his tongue again.

"Ja." Klavier smiles, his head nuzzling against Apollo's shoulder and neck, the scent of wolf strong around them both, and Apollo suddenly isn't sure who's helping who stay human.

Juniper's quiet voice comes from the edge of the hallway, filled with confidence despite the soft volume. "You will both be fine. You're already doing incredibly well, considering... how this all started."

Apollo straightens, considering pulling away from Klavier, but he's comfortable where he is.

Hugh steps up at Juniper's left hand, pressing his glasses up on his nose as he smirks at them. "Don't worry, Justice. It's just pack instincts."

"Oh?" Klavier raises both eyebrows, his tone light. "But this is how I always greet the defense. Doesn't it make you look forward to passing the bar, Herr Spectacle?"

Hugh's face reddens, and Robin bursts out laughing, skipping past her alpha and towards them. "I like that as a nickname for you, Hugh. Does this mean you two are really super officially pack now?"

The young woman's grin is apparently infectious, because Klavier is wearing a very similar one as he studies Apollo. "Until he kicks me out for being my usual dazzling self, ja?"

"Which may be in five minutes, at this rate." Apollo plants his chin on Klavier's shoulder, studying the other wolves from that vantage point. He feels more... relaxed, now. As though something important has been decided, some stress taken off his shoulders, and it's far too easy to just relax against Klavier and bask in the sunlight while moon-fire sparks and simmers just under his skin.

Juniper takes a step into the room, her eyes staying just to the side of Apollo, carefully not challenging. "Would you two be interested in learning some meditation techniques? To help you handle the moon-power better?"

"I am." Apollo straightens. "You?"

Klavier nods. "The sooner we learn to handle this, the sooner we can go back to our lives."

Their two packs arrange themselves around the living room, Juniper facing Apollo, and they settle down to the boring details involved in making sure everything turns out fine.