Klavier Gavin couldn't sleep. So, he did what any other sane man would do—get drunk at four in the morning.
It hadn't been a rash decision, of course. He'd waited for a solid few hours in bed before succumbing to the fact that absolutely nothing was going to help him slip back to sleep. Rehearsing nursery rhymes? He couldn't remember any. Counting? He'd reached well over zweihundert. Meditation? Truthfully, only the tabloids believed he did that. There was only so much a man could do after exhausting his options for rest.
He stood up and stretched, watching the moon filter through the gossamer curtains in his room. Then, he slunk to the kitchen, rifling through cabinets until he finally found it—a crystalline glass, and a perfectly sealed bottle of sekt.
It had been a gift. No company in this country sold it—the sparkling wine had to be imported directly from Germany, and even then, the price for shipping was exorbitant. Of course, champagne and prosecco were respectable alternatives, but…special occasions were always made sweeter with a taste from home.
At least, that's what his brother had told him.
"Please, it's nothing. I must congratulate you," Kristoph had said, holding up his palms when Klavier tried to hand back the expensive present. "Consider it customary for a lawyer's first trial."
"You're already treating me to dinner," Klavier protested. Normally, he'd be gracious, but this felt…strange. "You were also the one who warned me about the forgery, as well as the special witness."
"Of course, Klavier. It was simply a matter of justice." Kristoph waved a hand, brushing aside his brother's argument. "But you listened to me. You were vital to the case. Never forget that."
Klavier hadn't forgotten. He'd tried to carve out every other detail of that trial, but Kristoph's words had stuck. He knew, no matter how hard he tried…he'd remember them forever.
A swift pop, and the seal was broken. He poured a generous amount of sekt into his glass and leaned against his kitchen counter.
This should have been poured down the drain, Klavier thought, taking a sip. Unfortunately, it tasted exquisite.
What had he even been saving it for? He couldn't remember. Perhaps another court victory, or a record-breaking album sale…no doubt, something idiotic like that. After taking weeks to dispose of all of Kristoph's other gifts, he didn't want to admit that he'd been holding onto this one for something significant.
Klavier downed the glass, grimacing at the slight burn of alcohol. He'd avoided drinking for the past few weeks, but bitter reality made it difficult to resist an escape.
A toast to Herr Justice, he mused, swigging some straight from the bottle. Like most sparkling wine, sekt was easier on the palette…and harder to keep track of.
It took half an hour for him to finish all of it. In that time, he'd created a new guitar solo, eaten a fistful of imported crackers, and flipped through fifty channels of TV static before realizing there was nothing left. And he felt good. In fact…
"I'm fine," Klavier mocked, smirking at his own impression. "Sieh mich an, everyone, I'm fine."
He laughed in the darkness. Then, he closed his eyes. That was enough for one night—he was starting to feel light-headed.
Another half hour passed.
"Hello? Klavier? Are you…is everything okay?"
Herr Wright's voice sounded raspy on the other end of the line. Klavier rolled his eyes and draped his arm over his face, the phone held loosely in his fingers.
"Ahhhh, Wright," Klavier began, drawing out his words, "Did you know…just how fine I am doing? Did you know? It's a miracle…a gift from Gott…verdammt schön—"
"Oh." A pause. Klavier tapped the empty bottle against the ground, growing impatient. "You realize it's five in the morning, then?"
No, he didn't realize that. He didn't even know how he'd gotten to this point, actually. All he knew was that it'd seemed like a good idea to check some texts before sleeping, and then…
"I have news. Lots…news. Achtung!" Klavier snapped. Before Phoenix could continue, he started his report. "Forehead—I mean, Justice…never speaking to me again. He was scared, or…ich weiß nicht."
"Wait…what?"
Klavier threw the bottle against the wall, only to grow disappointed when it didn't smash into one million glittering pieces. Apparently, frustration was only glamorous in movies.
"Ach, don't worry, Herr Wright! He's fine," Klavier said. His sarcastic tone began to turn bitter. "Justice is always fine, isn't he? Dummkopf."
"Hold on," Phoenix started. There was no longer any trace of grogginess in the ex-attorney's voice. "You said Justice? As in, Apollo Justice?"
"Is there any other reason wespeak, Herr Wright?"
A pause. Some part of Klavier realized how irritated he sounded, but he couldn't care.
"Klavier…is this about Apollo, or did you want to talk about something?"
The question was oddly comforting. Or rather…Phoenix Wright was. Kristoph's warnings had initially made Klavier wary of the ex-attorney, but the man continued to surprise him.
And the truth was, he wanted to talk. A mass of conflicting feelings had been stirring inside him for months…ever since he watched Kristoph's conviction before his very eyes. He wondered if there was anything he could have done.
Dwelling on the past never got him anywhere.
"He called earlier. Herr Justice," Klavier said, steadying himself. "Far past midnight."
"You spoke to him?" Wright said. It seemed as though every piece of information sparked hundreds of new questions in the man's mind. "Trucy and I have been trying to—"
"Ja. He was…anxious."
That was an understatement. Klavier felt a strange pain in his heart when he thought about how desperate Apollo sounded. He could tell how hard the man was trying to keep it together—the wavering voice and constant deflecting were dead giveaways—but had remained gentle in an effort to coax out the problem.
Perhaps if he'd known he was the issue from the start, he'd have called out Apollo's obvious lies.
"He needs space. A few days away from your Agency," Klavier explained. "And…a lifetime away from me."
There might have been a better way to articulate it, but Klavier's drunken brain had always been blunt. He'd have hung up if Apollo hadn't asked him to inform Herr Wright of the situation.
"Always fulfill favors, Klavier," Kristoph had told him, long ago. The advice sprang, unbidden, to the front of his mind. "Old friends will repay their debts."
He'd thought his brother was just being generous. Kind Kristoph, he'd tease. It seemed harmless at the time—a convoluted way of saying, "treat others the way you want to be treated."
Only later did he realize what Kristoph had meant.
There is always a price to pay.
How much had Kristoph's support cost him?
On the other end of the line, Wright struggled to process Klavier's words.
"That's…no. Apollo? No, he wouldn't," Phoenix said, half mumbling to himself. Klavier's patience had run out.
"Gottverdammt, Herr Wright, he never wants to see me again!" Klavier exclaimed. He stood up and kicked the emptied bottle of sekt, watching it skitter pitifully across the floor. "He's speaking to no one. Niemand. No. One."
"Klavier, I…" Wright sounded doubtful. Klavier contemplated throwing his phone against the wall, if only to end this conversation. "Are you sure? This is serious."
"Serious? Ach, don't you see?" Klavier scoffed, pulling on his twisted hair. "Forehead is right. I look just like…him."
If only the bottle had shattered. He'd have picked up a large shard and cut off his locks right this instant.
Phoenix Wright took a deep breath.
"Look. It's early. Things are tense," the man began. Klavier already hated where this was going. "You sound like you need some rest. How about we talk tomorr—"
"Don't you care for Justice?"
The accusation hung heavy in the air.
Wright's tone grew stern.
"Of course I do," the man replied. His voice was stiff, restrained—entirely defensive. Klavier slammed a hand against the wall.
"Then tell me why, Herr Wright. Why is he doing this?"
"He's…" Phoenix hesitated, contemplating the young prosecutor's challenge. Klavier pressed on.
"What happened when you last spoke? Testify."
"I was…well, I accused him of hiding something dark," Wright admitted. "He was upset—which I understand—and he left. To see you, I assume."
"Explain," Klavier demanded. "What did you think he was hiding?"
"Listen, Klavier—"
"You said you cared."
Phoenix paused. Klavier didn't take back his words. It was obvious that the subject was uncomfortable, but if it would help them solve this mystery…was auch immer.
"I was worried that Kristoph had gotten to his head," Phoenix said at last. "And with the jailbreak…it was hard to tell what he was going through."
"I see," Klavier said. So before they'd met, Justice had already fought with Herr Wright. "I tried to speak with him about Kristoph, but he ran away from me as well. And over the phone…he said couldn't bear to see me again because I looked too alike." The prosecutor shuffled through the evidence, trying to find a connection. "Obviously, this is about mein Bruder. But the isolation is an extreme measure."
Phoenix hummed, also mulling over the facts. "This all started when I told him about the prison escape. And as far as we know, Kristoph's still out there."
"Ja, he is. Most likely taking shelter from the storm right now…he was always cautious."
Klavier imagined Kristoph hunched over, shivering in the snow. He cast the thought away.
There's nothing I can do for him now.
"So Kristoph is out there. Meanwhile, Apollo is shut in at his apartment," Wright concluded. "No police, either."
"He refused them," Klavier added.
"He refused the police?" Phoenix repeated. After Klavier's confirmation, he sounded more troubled. "This isn't looking good."
"Why? Do you understand what's going on?"
Wright sighed. Even though he hadn't spoken to the ex-attorney much, Klavier recognized what that meant.
A terrible realization.
"We need to get ahold of him as fast as we can," Phoenix said. Klavier opened his mouth to keep asking, but was cut off by the man's rapid directions. "Keep calling him. Trucy and I will think of other ways to get in touch. Just keep trying to get through to him."
"Ja. I will, then," Klavier agreed. "But—"
"The snow stops Thursday, right? That's when roads reopen?"
"Ja, Herr Wright."
"That might be too late. Damn it." There was an urgency to Wright's words. Klavier's own stress escalated with each vague statement. "The second they clear everything, we have to drive there and stop him from leaving."
"Is he in danger?"
"I'm not sure," Phoenix said. "But if we don't stop him, he will be."
Klavier picked up the sekt bottle, noting the fine hairline cracks scuffed into the surface. "Herr Wright, I don't under—"
"I think he's going to track down Kristoph."
Klavier's frenzied thoughts froze. "What?"
"He doesn't have guards to keep an eye on him. He's stopped responding to anyone who could help. And this all started as soon as I told him about Kristoph," Wright elaborated. "He's going to face off against your brother."
A sliver of uncertainty wormed its way into Klavier's brain. "I suppose, but…what if Kristoph—"
"The snow's too thick for Kristoph to try anything right now. Besides, you spoke to Apollo, right?"
"Ja. I did." Klavier tried his best to remember Apollo's exact words over the phone, but found he couldn't. That last sentiment had stung so badly that it was all he could latch onto—and based off his own emotions alone, something about it felt...spiteful. "Should we call the police?"
"No," Phoenix said firmly. "If Apollo's really planning something, calling them won't do anything. It might even make things worse."
"Then…what do we do?"
And for a moment, Phoenix's concern overwhelmed all other logic.
"We have to get to his apartment as soon as we can, Klavier. Because if Apollo and Kristoph end up meeting again…they'll kill each other. I just know it."
