Set after the events of Turnabout Serenade.

Author's Note: Um, hi. Not sure how I got here, exactly. Klavier/Ema, if you squint really really hard. Rated T for slight cursing. Also, I initially wanted to stretch this to cover post-Turnabout Succession, but my muse ran away with it and the length went out of control. I had to stop it somewhere.

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"Herr Forehead, you amuse me. I couldn't forget what's really important to me, even if I tried. In fact, I haven't. Not even once."

- Klavier Gavin, Turnabout Succession

Ema wasn't quite sure how she ended up standing outside the door to his condo unit but here she was, fist loosely clenched, poised to knock and ready to make her presence known.

She stopped momentarily to think about why she was here in the first place. Going to Prosecutor Gavin's place certainly wasn't something she was expecting today when she woke up, but then again she can hardly call anything that transpired today ordinary.

The trial lasted longer than she thought it would, given how obvious the circumstances seemed when she first wrapped up the initial investigation. There was no way anyone else could kill the manager except that kid - Machi, was it? The thought of anyone on stage being the culprit never even crossed her mind.

Prosecutor Gavin obviously didn't either, if his lack of usual composure during the court proceedings was any indicator. It didn't help that his bandmate was the one accused. Didn't help that he turned out to be guilty, either.

She planned on talking to him after the trial to ask if she can submit the final investigative report tomorrow during her day off because quite frankly, she couldn't wrap her head around what just happened today. Piecing it altogether and putting it into words would take hours, and her shift was almost done.

That, and she wanted to catch up with Apollo and Trucy, hopefully with Mr Wright in tow.

Of course, any hopes she could have of speaking with him to plead for her deadline were dashed when he suddenly disappeared from the courtroom. She went back to the precinct and he wasn't there either. Even his gaudy purple bike wasn't in sight. Ema shrugged. I mean, if he could just suddenly vanish like that, then surely the end-of-day report could wait until tomorrow.

She found herself walking towards the Wright and Co Law Offices (although she thinks they changed their name to something else now, but whatever it was she couldn't remember) and before she could even raise her hand to knock, the door swung open to reveal Mr Wright's daughter and her wooden companion thing.

"Welcome to Wright Anything Agency. Step into our little world of wonder! We knew you would appear!"

"Err, what?" Confused but not surprised, she stepped in. The Justice kid was sitting down on a worn couch in the middle of what seemed to be a very new, very eclectic pile of mess.

"Don't mind her, she's just practicing her showmanship."

"Whatever do you mean? Mr Hat's senses predicted our lovely Miss Ema's appearance!"

"Yes, I'm sure it's your hat and nothing to do with Ema dropping by for noodles every Friday."

"You know Polly, something tells me you won't make for a great magician's assistant."

Ema ignored their bickering and sat down by the sofa. "I'm kinda hungry. Where's Mr Wright? I just walked five miles to get here, a girl could use some salty broth."

Trucy tucked Mr Hat away and started stuffing the random objects from the table into a frilly underwear. Neat trick, but Ema is sure she'd figure out the scientific explanation behind it sooner or later. "Daddy's out on his secret mission so he won't be eating with us today. Let me just tidy up and we can go." Behind her, she heard Apollo mutter a sarcastic 'good luck'.

The detective sighed. Mr Wright sure is getting busier and busier as each day passes. "Alright, fine. In any case great work out there, Apollo. Wasn't expecting that turnout."

"Polly was great, wasn't he? Of course Machi is innocent!"

Well... She wouldn't exactly call him innocent. He was in on the smuggling, after all. Still, the results of the trial were unexpected to say the least. It couldn't have ended that way had Apollo not stuck to his guns. Ema expected nothing less from an apprentice of Mr Wright - he would always turn things around for his clients. Used to, anyway. "You know, I really didn't believe he would be able to do such a thing. Scientifically speaking, just look at their sizes!"

Apollo grinned sheepishly, not used to the praise. "Yeah, I know. I'm just glad the truth came out."

Ema nodded. The case looked really airtight at first which was why she was so confident in her testimony, but of course things aren't ever that simple. "Leave it to Wright kids to pull that off."

"Hey! I'm already twenty two!" Apollo exclaimed, indignant. "Plus, I kinda got lucky Prosecutor Gavin pushed the questioning as well. I heard he and that detective were really close."

Trucy agreed pensively. "Mr Gavin called him his right-hand man. That must have been hard for him to do."

Ema could plainly see the admiration in Trucy's eyes and her brows wrinkled, not wanting to admit the fop did something good for once. "Yeah so what? The guy was guilty. Just because he's best friends with the prosecution doesn't mean he can get away with it." As if on instinct, she grabbed a bag of Snackoos from her satchel and munched furiously.

"Well, I suppose," Apollo shrugged. "I'm just saying, it could have turned out differently with someone else on the other side of the bench, that's all."

She couldn't argue against his point, so she kept her mouth shut. Other prosecutors would have destroyed the defense easily considering there wasn't any decisive evidence. Even Crescend knew they cannot do him in without it. Not without a key testimony from an accomplice, anyway.

Still… Finding out the truth was his job. There's no need to give him brownie points for meeting expectations.

"Hooray, he's not as much of a jerk as he could have been." She was going through the bag of chocolate snacks like a madman but she didn't care. Apollo looked at her curiously, probably wondering why she was in such a bad mood all of a sudden.

"I wouldn't call him a jerk, per se…"

"Oh yeah? What was… all that about… humiliating me at the stand?" she munched in between words, not caring that she's halfway to the bottom of the bag. "That wasn't… jerk enough for you?"

"That wasn't very nice of him, Polly," Trucy agreed, nodding her head upon sensing Ema's irritation. "But I'm glad he didn't try to cover up for his friend."

Some friend, huh. He sure was quick to change sides.

A small part of her knew she was being irrational in her hatred for Gavin at this point, and in retrospect Trucy was right. No matter how much you care for someone, it's never enough justification to cover up for their crimes. Pressing Daryan Crescend for the truth is the morally right thing to do and the only acceptable course of action for any decent person, be them prosecutor or not. Ema knew this, of course.

But praising Gavin's 'good deed' at the trial today only meant acknowledging that what Lana did was disgraceful.

Lana's had been a different matter altogether, she reminded herself. Lana loved Ema selflessly to the point where she was willing to sacrifice herself. She's her sister, the only one she had left, and she was looking out for her. She had far more reason to protect her than Gavin did to protect his 'friend'. To make things worse, she was manipulated and blackmailed for such a long time that it hurt Ema just thinking about it. After all, she was innocent all along!

That meant something. Lana did what she had to do.

Surely, that made a whole lot of difference.

Ema shook her head, avoiding old memories that were trying to resurface. She needed a distraction, and salty noodles just lost their appeal.

"I just remembered I actually have some work to do at the office. I'll have to take a raincheck on those noodles. Tell Eldoon I'll pay my tab next week."

"Er… um… okay," Apollo said dumbly, watching her take her leave.

It's almost dark out when she reached the precinct. The officers on day shift were probably already out for the week, which is better for her since she preferred working in solitude anyway. When a Gavinner is found out to be an assailant and murderer, people are bound to ask questions, and Ema really isn't in the mood to feed office gossip right now.

Work was a good distraction. With what happened still so fresh in her mind (having only occurred earlier today) it was easy for her to include all the tiny details into the report. This completes her productivity for the week, which leaves no work for her to do on her day off tomorrow. Ema was glad she could finally put it behind her.

All she needs is Gavin's signature and she can submit it for filing.

Ugh. Always an inconvenience. A rare moment when she needs him to be in his office, and he isn't.

One of the few good things about Prosecutor Gavin is that he is always easy to get a hold of during and beyond office hours - except for when he is out living his rockstar life, of course. He's almost always in his office when assigned to a case. And because of the double life thing going on, he never had his phone away from his person.

It was odd for him to not be in the precinct at this time, but I guess you cannot hope for too much from the fop.

Even though he almost never texts, preferring to call Ema when he needed her to do something, she'd really rather not hear his annoying voice over the phone if she can help it.

Flipping it open, she started typing:

wru? report ok, need u to sign off

She expected a prompt reply (like he normally would) but when ten minutes had passed and Ema still hadn't heard the familiar beep of her SMS alert, she opted to just get it over with and give him a phone call. She really wanted to get home and curl underneath her worn sheets and sleep the day away.

…Ring…ring…ring…

…Ring…ring…ring… The number you dialled is currently-

Great. He wasn't picking up. Ema dialled again.

…Ring…ring…ring…

…Ring…ring…Click.

"Ach, hallo?!"

Ema raised an eyebrow, feeling her usual annoyance creep. "About time you pick up."

"To what do I owe the pleasure of your... beautiful voice, Fräulein?" If Ema could tell by his singsong voice, she'd say he was being sarcastic.

"Hey. I know it's late, but I need you to sign the report for today's case."

"Mm..." She heard some shuffling on the other line. "Always so professional, mein detektiv. You're so hardworking, ja?"

Ema rolled her eyes at the way his accent sounded more affected than usual. "Where are you? I need to get this done so I can close it and go home."

"Ah… home. Must be nice," he drawled off. There was silence for what seemed like a minute, save for Guilty Love playing obnoxiously in the background.

"Hello, Prosecutor? Did you drop dead or something? Don't waste my time."

More rustling from the other line. Ema had half a mind to hang up and just let the report sit on his desk over the weekend, but she tried to keep her patience.

"Of course. It is poor conduct to waste someone's time."

"...Are you drunk?"

"Nein, nein. I don't get drunk, no…" He dragged his syllables and his accent made him barely intelligible.

"Yeah, that's real convincing. Where are you? I need you to sign these so I can submit it to the Chief."

"I'm at my place, Fräulein. Surely… those can wait 'til I come to the office?"

Ema pinched the bridge of her nose in exasperation. "Look, I'll be on leave this Monday and I can't postpone submitting this report until I get back. And I really don't want to have to work tomorrow just for your stupid signature. I need you to sign this now so I can get it over and done with."

"Tch." …did he just scoff at her? "Fine. Come and find me, if you will."

Click.

Did he just hang up?

Really?

It didn't take long for Ema to find out where he lived, but fifteen minutes is still fifteen minutes of precious time wasted because of him. Add that on top of the half hour it took to get to his posh gated community plus the expensive cab fare, and it's a bit too much. Still, despite her irritation she managed to find her way to his apartment complex. It was almost nine in the evening and she should long be home by now yet here she was, in the upscale part of town at the top floor (a penthouse… how very typical) of Gavin's building.

She really hadn't expected this when she woke up today.

She knocked a little too impatiently, and when nobody came to the door her knuckles met the wood again, a little too loudly this time.

Yes, knock with attitude Ema, he deserves it.

He finally opened the door in what she could only describe as a relatively scandalous state of wear.

Gavin leaned against the doorway with one eyebrow raised and a mouth agape, as if confused about her arrival. She was about to give him a piece of her mind but stopped dead in her tracks upon view of his disheveled appearance. His hair was out of its usual pristine braid, tied up in a messy ponytail. His purple sport coat was not in sight and his black polo shirt was unbuttoned almost all the way down. His eyes were bloodshot and his face and neck were flushed in color.

He also reeked strongly of alcohol.

"Ah, the kind detektiv. Come to see me in all my glory?"

The sight of him disturbed her, and not in the same way it usually did. She straightened her back, all of a sudden feeling small.

"I came to…" her words lost the bite she had been keeping on her way to his place. He simply smiled at her crookedly, but Ema didn't fail to notice how it didn't reach his eyes.

"Ja, ja, do you have a pen?"

"I… what?"

Klavier simply stared at her, his hand extended as if waiting for something. It was only then that Ema remembered why she came here in the first place.

"Right. Hold on," she tried to find a pen in her bag. After a few moments trying to dig around her test tubes and various powders, she concluded that she in fact, didn't have a pen.

"Why Fräulein, it is unlike you to come so unprepared." He said nothing else as he stepped back, leaving the door open for her. Ema stood still, not knowing how to respond to this version of the prosecutor.

"Come inside, why don't you? I am not comfortable with leaving my door open for the whole world to see," he said rather roughly. Ema didn't miss the slight sway to his step. Not drunk, my ass. She complied, stepping inside and closing the door behind her.

The darkness was the first thing Ema noticed. It seemed like the only lights turned on were the lights to his kitchen. Nevertheless, from what she could make out, his place is... strangely immaculate, considering his current state. The only thing Ema thought was out of place is a broken CD lying on the floor and what appears to be an almost empty bottle of whiskey sitting lonely on a marble counter. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his signature jacket in a crumpled heap on the leather couch.

It was strangely quiet, which unnerved her to no end. She would never equate Klavier Gavin, so-called rock god extraordinaire, with quiet. Especially given how there wasn't a single instance when she stepped into his office and the Gavinner's "music" wasn't blaring out from his insufferable speaker-slash-desk.

Gavin disappeared for a few moments and Ema wasn't sure if she should find a place to sit or just stand there awkwardly in the middle of the room.

To be fair, she wasn't expecting his home to look quite this clean. After all, she knows what his office looks like when he actually works there. His penthouse looked too clean, in fact. Almost as if nobody lived in it.

A few moments later, he walked back (or rather wobbled, if she was being accurate) from what she could only assume was either his bedroom or his study, drunkenly waving a pen with one hand.

A hand…. which was bleeding.

"What the hell is wrong with your hand?" she asked pointedly, almost running over to him to inspect the wound. He rolled his eyes and ignored her, holding out his uninjured hand instead.

"Wo ist der bericht?" he slurred, as if unaware that Ema cannot speak German. She ignored his question entirely, grabbing his right hand.

"This is a pretty deep cut, Gavin. Where do you keep your first aid kit?"

"So laut, Fräulein."

Great. He has gone from intolerable fop to incomprehensible drunk. As if he wasn't already a pain enough to deal with sober. Ema dropped her bag gently to the floor and kept a grip on his wrist, trying to think. Where would one keep their first aid kit? A medicine cabinet is the likely answer. And where does one keep a medicine cabinet...

Ema looked around to check for a door which might lead to a bathroom. She saw one right next to the door he just came back out of. Thinking quickly, she grabbed a handkerchief from her back pocket and tied it around his palm.

"Listen, just stay here and don't move! Don't touch anything, or you might aggravate that wound."

She left him standing dumbfounded in his living room and came back after a few seconds of rummaging around his toilet for a first aid kit. Unsuccessful in her search, she took his injured hand gingerly and removed her handkerchief, now stained with his blood.

It looks as if the blood flow has already stopped and his wound had started clotting, but Ema couldn't risk the chance of infection and so she pulled him towards the kitchen sink, right in the center of his island bar.

She ran his wound under tap water, muttering under her breath.

"Who doesn't keep a first aid kit in their home? Stupid fop!"

"Das ist nicht…" he mumbled, and Ema could swear by the droop of his eyes that he was falling asleep.

"Shut up! Do I look like I speak German?" Ema almost yelled, aggravated by how casual he was being. Did he not even notice that his hand was bleeding?

She couldn't find anything else to use as an antiseptic, so she let go of his hand and walked over to her bag, fumbling around for hydrogen peroxide.

Finally getting ahold of what she was looking for, she strode over to where he was standing still quietly watching her. She turned off the faucet and dried his hand with some disposable kitchen towel she found on the counter.

He grimaced as she applied the light chemical compound on his palm. He almost yanked his hand away from her, but she kept a tight grip.

"…Bubbles."

"…What?"

He seemed to be too distracted by the white fizzling of the chemical reacting with his skin to acknowledge her. For a moment, Ema glanced at him and saw just how tired he looked. There were stress lines on his forehead which Ema was sure wasn't there before. His eyes were also red and glazed over, probably from his current state of inebriation.

"So… how exactly did you cut yourself?"

"…hated hearing him play. 'S too good." Ema raised her eyebrow and waited for him to continue but it looked like that was all he was going to say. She wrapped his hand with a makeshift gauze she found in her bag.

Without another word, the (already drunk) prosecutor reached over the other side of the island, grabbing the bottle of whiskey.

"Oh no, you don't."

"No fun, are we?"

"You're drunk enough as it is!"

He just grinned at her before shrugging and letting go of the bottle, letting it slam to the floor and break into little pieces. Some of the contents splashed onto Ema's ankle.

"Shit, that's it!" Ema exclaimed, dragging him towards the leather couch. "You sit there and sober up, because I am not cleaning up after your mess! What is wrong with you?"

He seemed to almost shrink at her words like a scolded child. Ema almost felt bad for him. Almost.

"I - I don't know."

Ema sighed and sat down a few spaces from him. Her patience was already wearing thin but the way he spoke so softly somewhat mollified her. He looked like he wanted to say something so she kept her mouth shut.

What felt like hours were probably just a few minutes but when he finally spoke, she could almost hear his heart breaking.

"Thought I could trust… him… Apparently I was wrong."

There's a lump stuck in her throat and she couldn't find the words to give him comfort. Not that Ema was ever good at comforting people. She was always the one being comforted - like when that incident happened, or when she got dumped by her college boyfriend, or when she failed her forensics exam. Comforting people just wasn't a part of her skillset.

"It wasn't your fault," she said lamely because really, what else can she say? When he didn't respond, she pressed on.

"Hey. What other people choose to do with their life is not a reflection of you. You did what you had to at the end of the day. You did good."

It's funny how she was vehemently denying him credit earlier with Apollo and Trucy and now here she was, trying to convince him of the same point she was arguing against. It seemed to have worked though, because the drunk prosecutor gave her a thin smile which again didn't quite reach his eyes. "I know, detektiv."

"Then again you trusted someone with that kind of hairstyle, so maybe you really misjudged yourself there," she joked, trying to fish any kind of reaction from him. It was enough to earn her a light chuckle. He seemed to have climbed down from his inebriation enough to ask her for the report she wanted him to sign.

"Right uh, hold on." She reached over to her now forgotten bag and fished out the folder where she kept her report. "Sign here please."

He did as was told, not even bothering to read what she had written. Figures. He passed the folder back to her. "Danke."

"Yeah, um, thanks too." Unsure of what to do next, she made a move to stand up. "I think I should go home now. You gonna be okay?"

"Achtung! The unfeeling fraulein asked after my wellbeing? I must truly be drunk off my arsch, ja?"

"Can it fop, I just fixed you up," she spat out without any true malice. "Seriously, you should get some rest. You look terrible, even by your standards."

"Your face is pretty but your words wound me, detektiv," he mocked, his injured hand flying to his chest.

"No, you wound yourself," she flustered for a second but ignored his compliment with determination. "How did you manage that, by the way?"

The man said nothing, but Ema followed as his eyes trailed towards the broken compact disk she initially saw upon entering the room. She went to pick it up. Not finding the CD case from which this broken thing had been stored, she placed it on top of the tall wooden tower to her left.

"13 Years Hard Time for Love? Couldn't say it's a total waste, but you really should have just thrown it out or something if you hated it that much."

She was probably just stalling at this point, but it didn't feel right to leave him in his sorry state. He didn't respond to her jab, keeping quiet.

"Or you could just give it to one of your crazy fangirls. I'm sure they'd love to take this off your hands, God knows what they get out of it."

Still no response. She tried to make sense of the disk that was split in half, holding the two pieces together like a puzzle. On the CD art was Gavin with significantly shorter hair (honestly, it just looked wrong) wearing his unmistakeable G pendant. Next to him was somebody who looked familiar…

Oh.

She knew Gavin started his music career young, and judging from his appearance he couldn't be older than 17, maybe 18 years old at the time? That makes him best buddies with Crescend for more than half a decade.

Ema felt sorry for him, truly, she did.

She flipped the disk pieces upside down, as if doing so would make their friendship any less palpable. She took the time to look around the dark apartment. There's a huge glass wall swooping down with a view of the city facing the south side.

To say he lived ostentatiously would be an understatement. Ema could almost feel her own poverty staring back at her.

Decidedly choosing to forget her own financial troubles, she stood for a few moments in front of the window, admiring the view. The Los Angeles skyline never looked more beautiful than it did at night, she thought, watching the lights flicker against the dark skies.

Finally sensing it was time to go, she turned…

…and saw him passed out on the couch.

"Oh fu— Gavin!" she shrieked, running to his side. She listened to his breathing, slow - too slow for her liking. Passing out wasn't exactly uncommon for drunk people, but she saw the prosecutor on too many office parties in the past and she knew he was no lightweight. That, and by the size of the bottle he had all but finished in what she could only guess was the time between getting from the trial and her showing up…

She'd been on the force long enough. She'd been called in so many times due to neighbors reporting funny odors from nearby apartments only to find that somebody drank their asses into oblivion. She knows how dangerous it could be.

She may have a slight dislike towards Gavin, but she would never wish that fate upon him.

"Gavin! Shit - FOP? Wake up!" She shook him forcefully, yanking him to sit up from where he had slumped on the couch. "If you choke on your own vomit, I swear to God!"

She was able to get him to a sitting up position and she pressed an ear to his chest, ignoring the hard metal pendant that jabbed her cheekbone. His breathing was still very slow and if he was conscious, he made no effort show it. Ema panicked. She felt the skin on his forehead in an attempt to check his temperature. He was cold to the touch. Hypothermia.

"Oi! Don't die on me!" She rocked his shoulders him once more, and when he still didn't stir, she struck him hard on the cheek.

The loud slap echoed across the very quiet room, followed by a loud groan... and retching.

Klavier Gavin, 24, prosecutor and rock star, just vomited. On Ema Skye.

She definitely hadn't expected this when she woke up today.

Ema let out an undignified scream, standing up in such a rush that her head swirled from all the blood that suddenly rushed up. She cannot believe this!

The previously unconscious man looked up at her groggily, his eyes still glossed over. "Urgh..uh… I'm sorry…" he mumbled incoherently, falling down to his side once more.

"Don't sleep! Gavin!" Temporarily ignoring her current state of wretchedness, she gently slapped the man awake. He opened his eyes ever so slightly, looking at her but also looking through her.

"I don't know how to keep you awake! You have to help me out here!"

"…"

"Ugh you fop! When you wake up, I will kill you myself!"

Not knowing what else to do, she slung his left arm over her shoulders, pushing the both of them from where they sat on the couch. She heaved against his weight and walked towards what she hoped was his bedroom. He was barely awake and responding. If he was conscious, Ema was sure he'd make some inappropriate comment about how he wasn't expecting her to drag him towards his bed ('You could just ask nicely, fraulein. I'm happy to oblige.'). Ema shook her head. Now was not the time for distractions!

Luckily, she was able to push the door open to reveal a huge king-sized bed. She was already struggling with his weight as she felt around the wall - surely there must be a light switch somewhere? - until she finally found what she was looking for and flipped the switch upwards. Her eyes hurt from the sudden illumination that flooded the room. True to her assumption, there was another door to her right.

She dragged his limp, almost lifeless body inside the bathroom. Keeping the door open because she couldn't be bothered to feel around for a light switch, she pulled him with her towards the shower.

She would regret this a few minutes later, but right now she didn't really have a choice.

She turned the knob clockwise, and then -

"ARGH! What the he-"

Cold water sprang from the shower head, soaking the both of them.

"Yeah, what the hell your face! Wake up!"

"Mein Gott, fraulein, what is thi-"

"I'm trying to keep you from dying, you ungrateful jerk! Now stay here and don't you dare come out of this shower until you're sobered up!"

"Fräulein I -"

Ema didn't wait for him to finish as she stalked off, visibly angry. She cannot believe how she had gotten herself into this mess. Here she was shivering from the stupid cold bath, standing in the middle of Klavier Gavin's bedroom in a wet mess of water, hydrochloric acid, potassium chlo- oh who was she kidding? Gavin puked on her! Even science cannot make her feel any better. She wanted to crawl out of her own skin in disgust.

It felt like ages before he finally stepped out of the bathroom, with nothing but a towel wrapped around his lower torso. His wet hair clung to his face, and she could see the drops trailing down his very toned chest. Ema had to fight the urge to blush.

"Put some damn pants on, Gavin!"

"Ach, I apologize fraulein. But you cannot expect me to wear the same clothes, and I keep all my fresh laundry in that dresser behind you."

Ema stomped into his bathroom, locking herself in. At least he turned on the damn lights, she thought to herself. "Hey!" she yelled towards the closed door, earning her a soft 'yes?' from the other room. "I need to borrow a shirt."

"Ja, I'll ready it out here for you," she heard him answer from the other side.

Ema turned the shower knob counter-clockwise, relishing the warm water that poured out of it. She breathed in slowly, trying to wrap her mind around what just happened to her.

She closed her eyes for a few seconds, letting the irritation and disbelief get washed away by the warm water. She grabbed a soap from where it lay wet, still dripping from when its first user left it. Ema felt repulsed at the thought of using Klavier Gavin's very recently used soap, but she had no other choice. It was either that or the remainder of his stomach fluids. Ema shuddered. If put that way, it was hardly a choice.

She found a dry, purple bathrobe hanging by one of the silver hooks on the wall. Ema took it, having no other option. She opened the door slightly, afraid he'd still be standing outside. Ema didn't think he was that kind of man, but one can never be too sure.

She found the room deserted and the door to it closed. Ema exhaled and stepped out. She walked towards the door to make sure it was locked before walking towards the bed. There, she found a large white shirt and what looked like purple drawstring sweatpants folded neatly.

Underneath the shirt was what looked like grey boxer briefs.

Ema blushed furiously, not even daring to think about what those boxer briefs had seen (oh the horror). Also slightly less related, Ema did not peg him as a boxer briefs kind of guy, not that she ever gave it some thought!

Did he seriously consider she'd wear something that had touched his -oh.

There was a tag sticking out from under the aforementioned undergarments. So they're new. I guess that makes them a little more okay, she muttered to herself aloud, refusing to think about what and who they were originally intended for. Ema felt heat rising up to her cheeks regardless.

She slipped into it anyhow, relieved that it wasn't too big to fall off her hips.

Recent events had made her quite aware that the fop is a member of the opposite sex. Somehow through all her animosity towards the guy, she had forgotten. Until she was given a sharp reminder, that is.

She put on his clothes wordlessly, not even caring that her bra was soaked and wearing it anyway underneath the white shirt. Her sullied clothes were still sitting on the sink with the rest of his.

Opening the door to his living room, she saw him leaning against his island counter, staring at nothing. When he heard the door creak however, he looked up at her, embarrassment plainly etched across his pretty face.

"Listen, Fräulein, I-"

She held a hand up before he could finish. "Look, I don't want to hear it." She really was in no mood to discuss what had just happened. "Where do you do your laundry?"

"I uh…"

"…? You've got to be kidding me."

"Nein, I'm sorry detektiv. I just get my clothing laundered by the kind housekeeper. Please allow me to have it cleaned for you."

What a fop. "Ugh, fine, whatever." She stomped over to the counter where he was sitting and pulled the chair right next to his. She could have sworn he tensed and moved away when she occupied his space. She sighed heavily.

"I apologize for the troubles, detektiv. I have no idea what came over me."

"Clearly a death wish is what came over you."

The suddenly very sober prosecutor shook his head, hair no longer dripping but still wet enough for his bangs to cling to his face. "I have no wish to die, not yet."

Ema said nothing, waiting for him to continue. She didn't know how long she'd been sitting there seething, head faced towards him without really looking directly. Klavier just sat motionlessly and resumed staring at a void.

"Daryan... was almost like a brother to me," he finally broke the silence. The prosecutor sighed and looked down, his right thumb fiddling with the calluses on his left. Ema noted the sadness in his voice. "When I was young and Kristoph was sent away, I was alone… until I met him, that is."

Ema found herself at a loss for words once again. It was easier to rebuke Gavin when he was being his usual jaunty self. She did not know how to deal with a subdued version of him, never having seen anything but his usual cheery persona.

"I just don't understand why he did it! Why would anyone kill a man in cold blood?"

You'd be surprised, Ema thought to herself. You'd be surprised at what lengths people would be willing to go to to get what they want. "I don't know Detective Crescend. I'm not condoning what he did, but he probably felt like there was no other way." It's true; for all the preparations Daryan Crescend and Machi Tobaye did as a contingency plan, it doesn't seem like either one expected an Interpol agent to be at the scene.

He suddenly looked at her intently, eyes blazing. "Of course there is always another way. It's not complicated! How hard is it to not kill?"

Ema sighed. "I wish things were that simple. But sometimes you get into a situation where," she paused, remembering what she felt when she saw Mr Marshall and that man struggling, "...sometimes you just don't get the time to think."

He was silent, but Ema could see from his clenched fists that he was livid. In all fairness, one could understand why the prosecutor would be enraged - what reason could Daryan Crescend have to smuggle a Borginian cocoon in the first place? It's not like he needed the money. He had too much on the line.

"...I thought I knew you," she heard him whisper, more to himself than anyone else. Despite her immense disdain for the man, Ema couldn't help but sympathize with him. He was betrayed by his best friend. His position as a prosecutor was taken advantage of to commit an illegal act. He himself was put in the line of danger just to cover it up. All other consequences notwithstanding.

Ema glanced at his fingertips, thinking what a miracle it was that he wasn't burned by his bandmate's thoughtless stunt.

"Sometimes the truth isn't what we want it to be."

"The truth, ja? …Sometimes I wish I didn't have to know. Even though this is what I swore to uphold."

Ema turned to look at his face then, searching his eyes. For someone who claims to always be in the pursuit of truth and justice, he certainly made a crying shame of Phoenix Wright.

She read the case file. Mr Wright may avoid talking to her about it, but Ema already knew he would never do such a thing. And if one of them is telling the truth, then the other one can only be telling a lie. Ema was sure of it. There was only one logical hypothesis.

Ema felt a surge of resentment and disdain rise up again but quickly stomped it down, choosing instead to change the subject.

"Are you feeling better, Prosecutor Gavin? Or do you need me to call a doctor?" Given his wealth and status, she wouldn't be surprised if he had an on-call physician to attend to him.

"Nein, that will no longer be necessary," he made a move to get up and step away from the counter.

Ema stood up as well and walked towards the kitchen cupboards, opening them one by one.

"What are you looking for, Fräulein?"

"Where do you keep your glasses?"

"Ah, I think they are inside the drawers right in front of you." Choosing not to comment on his uncertainty, she pulled the drawer handle and sure enough, she saw six crystal glasses arranged in two neat rows.

"You have too much alcohol in your system. You need to stay hydrated," she said casually, walking over to the sink and filling it with tap water. "Drink this."

Klavier accepted the glass from her wordlessly, bringing it to his lips and tipping it back. Ema could see his adam's apple bob up and down as he gulped the liquid. A drop trickled from the side of his mouth and she felt the need to look away.

"Danke schön, Fräulein," he looked at her as he said the words, and Ema could see from his eyes that he really meant it. "I am indebted to you."

She crossed her arms and looked away, suddenly feeling self conscious. "Yeah, well, you owe me alright. I don't dole my services out for free, you know."

Klavier smiled genuinely for the first time that night. And for what was another first time, Ema found herself truly appreciating it. Okay, so he was a very conventionally attractive man, who's suing?

"Of course. I am never one to keep his debts unpaid, after all. And how many bags of your chocolate snacks do I owe, exactly?"

Ema smiled at the thought of Snackoos and was about to demand at least a month's worth before a yawn she couldn't stop escaped her lips.

"Sleepy?" he teased, eyes twinkling. Ema had never felt comforted by the expression before.

"It's late and you kept me here all night trying to look out for your drunken ass."

"Ja, but have you ever looked out for a more beautiful arsch?" And the glimmerous fop was back. If Ema hadn't already finished her Snackoo bag at the Wright office, he would be pelted by now.

"Sh-shut up," she stammered.

"Ah, and detektiv you should know that while hydrogen peroxide can be used as an antiseptic, it tends to ruin not only harmful bacteria but healthy epithelial cells too."

"You ungrateful fo-" she was cut off by yet another yawn.

This time, the prosecutor couldn't stop himself from laughing heartily. "You can take the guest bedroom and sleep here for tonight, if that suits you. We can't have you strolling out in the dark at this hour now, can we?"

Ema looked at her watch. 11:18 PM. She was seriously about to consider his offer until-

"Besides, you look positively ravishing with my clothes on."

It didn't take her five minutes to grab her things and stomp her way out of that apartment, cursing his name all the way out and slamming the door shut behind her. She jabbed furiously at the elevator button, as if violently pressing on it multiple times would make it go faster.

"Seriously Fräulein," she heard him call out, and when she turned, she could only see the side of his face peering from behind his door that's slightly ajar, "thank you for tonight. I shall find a way to make it up to you."

His eyes tell her he meant it, but all Ema wanted to do was walk towards him and slap that lecherous smirk off his stupid perfect face.

"I should have just let you die, you asshole!"

Five days later, Ema received a suspicious-looking package in the mail. It was a huge purple box filled with bags of Snackoos. With packaging that garish, no one needed to ask who it was from. She was about to do a little happy dance when something else caught her eye.

At the very bottom of the box is something wrapped in white plastic.

There was a note attached to it. It read:

Detektiv Skye,

As promised, I am repaying my debt. Consider us even.

P.S. Your clothes have been laundered fresh.

P.P.S. I wouldn't have thought of you as the granny panties type.

The high-pitched scream that abruptly followed was enough to put Apollo Justice's Chords of Steel to shame.

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Another Author's Note: If you read this far, thank you for sticking by. Also, sorry for the length. I just finished playing AA4 again after about a decade and I never really noticed how aggressive Ema's dislike for Klavier was, so I wanted to explore that. I will sit down to further this dynamic to Turnabout Succession when my muse decides to come back.