The phrase had slipped out of Apollo's mouth with ease. It was the only conclusion he could reach—every story, every sentiment Kristoph had entrusted him with led up to this moment.

In the waning firelight, Kristoph seemed to pale.

"Using my own words against me," Kristoph said, after a moment's pause. Shock had reduced his voice to a low hiss. "Clever of you. And…typical."

Venom dripped from each sentence that escaped Kristoph's lips. There lay the coiled snake—stunned, left waiting for its next strike.

Apollo was too swift.

"Your words, huh?" he countered. The judgement fell quick. "Your father would be disappointed."

Merciless, yet precise. He caught the tremor in Kristoph's hands, and knew at once that his insight was correct.

How arrogant could a man be? To face a judge, a jury, and still taunt that he could walk free? Apollo wasn't convinced. Kristoph was cautious by nature. That moment of hubris was fueled not by a claim, but by a belief.

Every belief came from somewhere.

"Mr. Gavin. You once told me that you'd never act like him," Apollo said. "As far as I know, you never did."

Kristoph's face had grown ashen. For a minute, the man's thin frame seemed frail. "Just take your turn, Justice."

"I'm not done." Apollo leaned back in his chair. His mind was swirling with connections, dragging him further down. "You were trained to find nervous tics. Same as me, except…your father abandoned you." He tapped his chin. Kristoph tensed. "So, you rejected his views."

"I respect his perspective," Kristoph stated. The man's tone had become cold. Clipped.

"Still, you disagree."

Kristoph's reluctance was palpable. Apollo disregarded it.

"Your father said every man has a weakness," he pressed on. "You don't think so, though. You want to believe you're untouchable." He traced idle spirals into the armrest, his gaze clear and piercing. "That's why you rely on evidence. Not emotions."

Apollo stopped. He noticed Kristoph begin to curl inwards, as if being dealt physical abuse.

His eyes gleamed.

"Weakness terrifies you."

The satisfaction Apollo felt upon meeting Kristoph's broken stare seemed almost sinister. He didn't care. For once, the game was actually entertaining.

"I am not weak," the man objected.

Denial. Apollo latched onto it. Savored it.

"You aren't, generally. The lapses when you are, though…that's what you fear," he explained. Another spark lit up his brain. "Zak Gramarye saw through your weaknesses. That's why you lost the poker game."

"No—"

"Yes. Don't lie."

Apollo rose to his feet. He could see the veins in Kristoph's hands pulsing. The blood rushing against the man's taut skin.

"You—" Kristoph started.

"You couldn't control yourself after losing like that. It drove you crazy that he knew your vulnerabilities." Apollo shut him down easily, stepping towards the fireplace. "You'd do anything to get rid of that feeling."

A flicker of fear in Kristoph's eyes. A rare sight.

"Stay where you are," Kristoph commanded. Apollo ignored him.

"You slipped."

An animalistic look corrupted the man's face. Kristoph jerked his arm to the side, reaching for the fireplace poker.

Apollo bolted forward, grabbing Kristoph's wrist with an iron grip.

"Is that why you tried to be Mr. Wright's friend? To keep an illusion of perfection?" Apollo interrogated. The man struggled against him, failing to escape.

"Don't. You. Dare," Kristoph growled.

For the first time, Apollo realized how sweet desperation could be.

"Answer the question," he said. He kept steady as Kristoph backed farther and farther away.

"Wright…was valuable in other ways," the man said, teeth clenched. They pulled back and forth, drawing every nearer to the dying flames.

Apollo was getting impatient.

"Play the goddamn game, Gavin."

His hold tightened. Kristoph's carpal bones shifted under his fingers.

"Weakness is unacceptable in law, Justice," Kristoph spat. The back of the man's shoe hit the base of the fireplace. "I couldn't allow my opponent to glimpse it in me."

Nowhere to go.

Apollo felt Kristoph's skin strain from the force of his clutch.

"Mr. Wright's perceptiveness. You knew about it, and knew he'd see through you eventually," Apollo said. He relished the sight of the cornered man—once a dream, now a reality. "And the Mishams'…if they made the connection, they'd have known you'd lost your mind."

"Fine. Let us discuss your idiotic thesis," Kristoph snarled. A manic glint struck the man's gaze. "Everyone in the courtroom watched me break down. That was my greatest moment of weakness."

Disheveled hair. Unhinged screaming. To this day, Apollo could see every moment clearly. "I agree."

"Then do you expect me to hunt down every last juror who witnessed it? Why would I focus on Wright?"

Smart avenue to explore. Apollo paused, thinking aloud.

"You picked me. Not Vera, not Klavier, not even Mr. Wright." He could feel Kristoph's fingers quivering. His hand remained locked. "They had police guards there, but you didn't know that. Besides, you're clever enough to find a way past."

"Get to the point," Kristoph snapped.

"Everyone knows your weakness. They'd see you differently. But I…" Apollo hesitated. His mind burned, regret creeping out of its depths. "I'd see you the same as before."

Kristoph winced. A simple reflex.

Apollo's dwindling pleasure twisted into disgust.

No.

He let go.

His memory of Kristoph had been preserved too well. A vision of a soft gaze, alleviating his worries. A phantom touch to his cheek. He'd lean into it, pretending to be asleep. And Kristoph would stand above him, running a gentle hand through his hair, letting him breathe.

"You were special to me," Apollo said. He stepped back, giving Kristoph space. "I'd never think of you as anything less. You chose me so you could feel in control again."

Kristoph massaged his wrist. A strange calm enveloped them both.

"What does this have to do with Wright?"

Apollo froze in place. His heart raced.

Phoenix Wright. A man who seemed apathetic towards him. Who accused him, who used him…who didn't trust him, even until the very end.

Who still cared about him, despite how blind he'd been.

"Mr. Wright has only one weakness. His family," Apollo said. "If you killed me or Trucy, you'd make him understand what you felt. Fear and weakness in a single heavy blow."

Kristoph tilted his head. "I may still kill you myself."

"You won't."

The confusion that had been swirling through Apollo's thoughts was disappearing at last. Days of uncertainty, fading away. It finally made sense why Kristoph kept him alive…and why the man was in denial every time.

"I'm your weakness, Kristoph."

The man's tenuous curiosity dissolved into doubt.

"Optimistic," Kristoph dismissed.

"Then why do you still care about me?" Apollo persisted.

"You're projecting."

"I'm not, and you know it."

Kristoph seemed irritated when Apollo identified the lie with ease. The man's tone became dry and practical.

"I grew attached to you when I taught you. Your foundation for practicing law came from me." Kristoph's first few statements were blunt, but his voice began to waver slightly. "I couldn't help but remain proud of you."

If this were the past, Apollo's happiness would have surged. He could imagine himself bounding about, repeating Mr. Gavin's words to himself every few seconds.

He's proud of me. He's proud of me. He's proud of me.

That didn't matter now.

"You've seen me be weak multiple times. In court, in the office…and especially here," Apollo said, drawing back to his earlier point. "You never punished me."

Kristoph gestured to his bandaged hand. "I believe I have."

"No. Because you still haven't killed me." Apollo pointed at Kristoph, his finger resting over the man's heart. "The weak deserve to die, right, Mr. Gavin? That means you and me."

Kristoph brushed his hand away, still visibly skeptical. "By that logic, Wright deserves to die as well."

"Yes. And so does Klavier, for believing in you. And your mother, for struggling to support you both." Apollo drew his palm to his chest, feeling his heartbeat slow. "Everyone who's ever suffered would deserve to die. And that means, everyone."

They both stood still, trapped in contemplation. The silence felt familiar to Apollo. Comforting. An embrace. A distant memory, come to life.

"Perhaps my logic is…flawed," Kristoph conceded.

Apollo felt a rush of hope. It filled the hollow cavities of his chest, engulfing his core with a warm glow.

He listened.

He opened his mouth to speak. Before he could say anything, the man raised a hand to stop him.

"Tell me this first, Justice," Kristoph said. "Should I simply let go of Wright for ruining my life?"

Relief was replaced by reservations. The answer itself was simple: a resounding yes. Still, Apollo knew it wasn't going to be that straightforward. The reasoning behind it had to be solid, or else all of his work would fall through.

Sensing his incertitude, Kristoph pushed further. "You let go of Wright, despite his forged evidence. Yet you claim that your greatest attachment is to the truth."

The man had a point. Phoenix's recklessness could have cost Apollo his reputation, his career…his entire reason for living. Everything could have slipped through his fingers, and it wouldn't even have been his fault.

And that was distinction.

"What Mr. Wright did was wrong. Absolutely wrong," Apollo said. To this day, he believed that. Case won or not…to him, a line had been crossed. "The difference is, you sabotaged yourself, Kristoph. You were so afraid of weakness that you started this whole mess."

Apollo reached out, placing a hand on Kristoph's shoulder. His tone dropped low.

"Mr. Wright didn't ruin your life. Your father did."

To Apollo's surprise, Kristoph did not immediately smack him away. Instead, the man seemed discouraged. "I should wave away Wright laughing in my face, by that account."

"You have to. It's pointless now," Apollo said. He dropped his touch. "No matter what you do, the glaring truth remains. This is something that you have to fix yourself—not through revenge."

The smoldering embers looked like tiny stars in the blackness of the ash. Without the flames, only a dim light remained.

"You'd be satisfied, if you were wondering," Apollo continued. The look on Kristoph's face told him that he'd guessed right. "Satisfied, but more fearful each day. It would consume you. You…you can't keep this up, Kristoph."

Shadows danced across their faces. In the darkening room, Apollo felt at peace.

"Do you know why I'm so sure, Mr. Gavin?"

Kristoph sighed. "I am not."

"I'm like you."

The man didn't react. He simply adjusted his glasses, the lens flash hiding his eyes. "How so?"

"I'm afraid that everyone I trust just disappears. I trust less, and then the desperation shines through." Apollo began unwinding the bandages from his hand. Kristoph only watched. "I keep isolating myself. I can blame it on whoever I want, but ultimately, it's my fault." The gauze fell to the ground. Apollo traced the jagged cuts with his thumb. "That's why I break easily."

Kristoph turned away. "We are not the same."

Apollo's bracelet tightened.

"Don't lie. You'll lose the game if you lie. Please, admit it." Apollo grasped Kristoph's sleeve with his sliced hand. He knew he was pleading, but he had to break through. "Just admit it, Kristoph. I'm exactly like you, and you know it."

Kristoph was quiet. Expressionless. Apollo grew nervous, trying once more.

"Don't you think we're the same, Mr. Gavin?"

Twitching fingers. Tensed hands. A sheen of sweat on the man's forehead, barely visible in the encroaching night.

"No."

Apollo didn't need his bracelet to point out the obvious. "You're still lying."

"Prove it, then."

Kristoph whipped back towards him in an instant, fixing him with an intense gaze. There was no hatred or hostility in it—just pure challenge.

Apollo didn't flinch.

"You treated me the way you wished you'd been treated. With patience. Forgiveness." He ran through everything they'd gone through in the past few days. The memories still pained him, but together, they had value. "You gave me space. You stopped hurting me. You…listened to me." Apollo's voice grew soft. He released Kristoph's sleeve, instead wrapping his arms around himself. "You cared about me, regardless of what I did. And you didn't kill me. Is that enough?"

The man moved closer to him, outstretched fingers reaching to comb through Apollo's hair. Apollo closed his eyes. Kristoph had done this so many times that the motion had started to repulse him, but today…he felt nothing. Simply normal.

"Bravo, Justice. It is enough."

"You lost." Kristoph's hand withdrew. Apollo looked back up, meeting Kristoph's cool gaze. "You lied twice in a row. I even gave you a chance."

"Ah, yes." The man seemed quite unfazed by the declaration. The lack of response kept Apollo's triumph at bay. "Although, you have asked two questions in succession."

"What? When did I—?" Apollo began, before catching himself.

Kristoph cast him a pleasant smile, raising two fingers. "Let's revisit, shall we? One: 'Don't you think we're the same?' And, of course, two: 'Is that enough?'"

Dread dropped into Apollo's stomach. He resisted the urge to curl into a little ball on the floor and rock back and forth for eternity.

I was three words away.

"However, I am not unreasonable, Justice," Kristoph said, before he could give into the temptation. "Answer one last question, and the game is yours."

One last opportunity.

"Go ahead," Apollo said. He'd done well so far. If he managed to get through this, he could get through anything.

Kristoph held Apollo's injured hand. The man's bruised wrist cast a shadow over the cuts.

"You are correct. The fault lies within me," Kristoph started. Apollo looked away in shame at the sight of the man's injury. "Revenge on Wright is an urge I may never quell. Still, with time…I may be able to overcome it."

A light touch to his chin brought Apollo's eyes back. He saw a glimpse of the man he once knew—tranquil, serene, soothing.

"Then, Justice…what do you expect me to do now? The first step towards redemption?"

The question shot through Apollo's thoughts like a blazing arrow, destroying everything in his path.

He was drawing a blank.

This couldn't happen now. It was a valid question, and one that Apollo so deeply wanted to answer. Victory was on the line, of course, but even without it…this was the final piece. The key in changing Kristoph's actions for the better.

And he couldn't think of a single thing.

"I…I don't know," Apollo said, under his breath. Kristoph raised his eyebrows. "I'm not sure if you can be redeemed."

Apollo understood Kristoph. He knew what drove the man to the depths of brutality. Still, that knowledge didn't mean that he forgave him. At the end of the day, two people had still died. Families were still destroyed because of this fractured murderer.

"Surely you must have some idea of where I should go from here," Kristoph encouraged. Apollo began to feel sick. "Solitary confinement will not allow for such growth."

What was redemption, anyway? Was it the same as forgiveness? Was it different? Apollo pulled away from Kristoph, his head spinning. No…it was closer to atonement. What was atonement, then? He wasn't sure.

All he knew was that he could never forgive Kristoph. No matter how much the man improved. No matter how much he understood. Kristoph would always be a murderer.

Had this whole discussion been meaningless?

"I really don't know," Apollo said. He wanted to help Kristoph—he was dying to help him in some aspect, any aspect, but found himself at a crossroads. There had to be a solution. It couldn't end like this. "I need more time."

Kristoph shook his head.

"It seems we are tied. A lie on my part, and a lack of answer on yours." The man laughed. It sounded empty. "Truly a perfect end."

Anxiety flooded Apollo's system. Panic bled into his tone as he tried to recover, desperate for a solution. "I-I can really help you, Mr. Gavin. Please. Please just trust me, I just need more time, and I'll—"

"I would trust you, if you had won," Kristoph interrupted. "As it stands, we are at a draw."

No. Not like this. He'd been subject to all forms of torment over the past few days, but this was the worst type. He'd come so close. He couldn't just let go.

He wouldn't let go.

"We can both do what was promised. You trust me, and I'll…I'll still drink the tea."

Phoenix and Klavier were coming to save him, right? So it didn't matter. Kristoph's poison would never even reach his lips if their plan was in action.

...they were coming soon, right? Klavier said not to leave the apartment. That meant it must be soon. They wouldn't leave him waiting here to die, they would be rushing over as soon as they could and he'd be rescued. He'd see Mr. Wright, he'd see Trucy, he'd see Klavier, everything would be just fine. It'd be fine. This was just a small risk in that context, wasn't it? He wasn't going to die. Not really, anyways. This was just a trick, a sham, an ace's bluff—

"Justice. Are you…" Kristoph started, before dropping off. The man's incredulous stare revealed that Apollo had left him speechless.

"Yes. I'm sure," Apollo replied, although far too quickly. His nerves were still shot. What for, though? He'd be fine, he'd be fine, he'd be— "Fine. It's fine. Trust me, please."

Kristoph seemed uneasy. That was new.

"Alright," the man said, after a pause. "How shall we proceed?"

The snowstorm was set to end on Thursday. Klavier had answered the phone around 2:00 AM Monday, and he'd ran out of the apartment right after. Once Kristoph rescued him, he'd stayed up the whole rest of the day...so today must still be Monday. Well, Monday night.

That left approximately two days until Kristoph went after Mr. Wright.

"Okay. Tomorrow…let's think about your situation," Apollo said. "We'll find something. I'll make sure of it. We'll do the same on Wednesday, and then…Thursday morning, I'll drink the tea."

Kristoph's brow furrowed. What did that mean? Did he catch on? Was it that easy?

"I'm concerned for you, Justice," Kristoph said.

Kristoph. Concerned.

Apollo's mind reeled at the novelty.

"What's wrong with that?" he asked. Kristoph's frown deepened.

"You are…an anomaly," the man said. "You'd spend your last days helping me…the very cause of your death."

Apollo shuddered. Said aloud, it sounded much more ominous. The word itself hung heavy. Death. Death.

Deathdeathdeathdeathdeathdeath—

"W-What are you thinking, then?"

"You will spend one day helping me. That day will be tomorrow," Kristoph instructed. Apollo listened carefully, trying to drown out the screeching despair. "On Wednesday, you will have your last day. I will allow you to do whatever you'd like, within reason." Not his real last day, of course. Phoenix and Klavier were coming. Oh, they were definitely coming. "On Thursday morning, as you said, you shall drink the solution I've prepared for you."

"That sounds fair," Apollo agreed. His mind screamed, but he continued to suppress the hysteria.

"Good." Kristoph moved away from him, gesturing towards Apollo's room. "Get some rest."

Apollo stared at him, confused. "In…my bed?"

"Yes, of course."

"But you…actually, never mind."

It didn't make sense to question the man's decisions now. As far as Kristoph thought, Apollo would be gone in two days.

Gone.

No, he wouldn't be! Phoenix and Klavier were coming!

Apollo already knew that he wouldn't sleep tonight.

He walked past Kristoph and to his room, trying to quell his mind. Before he entered, he turned back one last time.

"Goodnight, Kristoph."

Night had fallen. The room was swallowed in darkness.

Kristoph's glasses flashed. A tiger's eyes, looming in the gloom.

"Sleep well."