Kristoph had been about to leave when he saw him. It was definitely him. He might look older and dress less ridiculously, but there could be no mistake.
Shadi Enigmar had returned.
For what, he didn't know. To expose him? Would that not cause trouble for the magician as well? If he knew Kristoph had forged evidence, he also knew why. It was Shadi's own fault for hiding the transferal of rights. Upon discovery of this detail, Kristoph had been willing to compromise: he would provide the missing page proving his client's innocence, his client walks free, and the man never once had to reveal his secret.
His client hadn't been happy with the deal. He'd been so unhappy that he switched to an ignorant attorney at the cost of his own freedom, using a game of poker to break the news. Kristoph was humiliated.
Poor Phoenix Wright. He'd thought the bait would be enough to make Shadi Enigmar come forward, to replace the forgery with the truth. It was regretful he hadn't.
Kristoph did his best to control the damage. He helped the poor attorney keep his life together and even tried to get his badge back. Unfortunately, it had been too late. He'd gotten Misham a job in book illustration with the condition he remained silent. Misham's death would have been better, but his trap failed. There was nothing Kristoph could do about that. Perhaps it was for the best. He became the kindest older brother he could, ensuring Klavier never once suspected him. Kristoph advised him on cases, warned him about corrupt attorneys, and even supported his music career. Kristoph could respect success no matter the field.
He was the greatest friend Phoenix could have in his time of need. He did it all to erase the suspicions he saw in the man's eyes, to no avail. All the "grape juice" in the world wasn't enough to erase the man's wit. No matter what Kristoph did for him, Phoenix remained on guard.
Kristoph had tried everything in his power to pay for his foolish gamble. But now, that gamble had returned to haunt him in the form of a man who loved gambling more than anything else.
He had to stop him. That man could ruin everything.
Kristoph burst into the Hydeout upon the sound of screams.
A woman stood before him, blond wig fallen to the floor. She held a bottle over her head as it dripped with blood.
"Calisto," he commented, worry tinging his voice. What had she done this time?
She turned around, face contorted with anger and shock. "He attacked me. I fought back."
Kristoph had met the woman he called Calisto Yew when he was fifteen. She'd dated his father before his "suicide" a year into their relationship. Not wanting to move back to Germany with his mother, Calisto agreed to raise Kristoph for his remaining two years of childhood before fleeing the grasp of the law. Their most recent meeting had been over seven years ago, when he had dwindled her jail sentence to a mere five years and disproved claims of her dual identity.
She was a killer. A thief. An arsonist. Despite these faults, Kristoph was as drawn to her as his father had once been. She was the first defense attorney he'd ever met in his life, his most influential mentor to date. She was a mystery, a person who came and went and changed her face with the seasons. A woman who could build a life and identity from scratch. And now, she was Olga Orly. He thought about commenting the first time he saw her, but hadn't. It was interesting, that she'd chosen to stay in the same area as him.
And, at the moment, incredibly inconvenient.
"You ruined my chance of speaking with him," he spoke slowly, keeping the anger out of his voice. "Is he dead?"
"I don't know. Probably," Calisto replied. Her brown hair was out of control, eyes squinting as she tried to alter the crime scene.
He did his best not to watch her. Open staring was classless. It showed brutish intentions. She'd had enough of such men in her life.
She looked up at Kristoph. "Don't just stand there. Help me."
Before he knew it, he'd stashed the bloody ace card in his pocket, replacing it with one of the cards on the floor. How had a blue deck fallen to the floor when a red deck was being used? Had they simply not cleaned up since the last game?
She threw the wiped bottle out into the passageway, then turned back on the defense attorney. Her disguised eyes were curious.
"Why did you want to talk to him?"
"He's the only scandal I haven't covered up."
"Hah. Haha. Didn't I teach you better than that?"
"Well he's dead now. Courtesy of yourself."
The woman flinched. "Don't look at me like that. You know I don't enjoy killing."
"Nor do I enjoy defending you. How many times have I gotten you out of the police's clutches?"
She smirked, leaning in closer to his face. Kristoph could smell her now. The reek of desperation. "You did it because you owe me, Gavin. I taught you more than law school ever could. I showed you the way to every success you dreamed of. Your fuckup tried to kill me because your friend foiled his cheating plot."
It was true. Of course, none of her help had come without a price. The woman he knew as Calisto Yew thrived on contracts, having been bound up in one for most of her life. She believed in debt. Every move Kristoph made to escape her ended with him being more beholden. It wasn't half as frustrating as Kristoph had thought it would be.
"You will ensure I never become the suspect." she handed him a bottle of grape juice. One Phoenix had been drinking, pulling her wig back over her head. "Hit me. If I was unconscious before the murder, my alibi will be airtight."
Kristoph thought the plan was stupid, but with someone (likely Phoenix) coming down from upstairs, he had no time to object. He took the bottle and struck her in the back of her head, hard enough to cause unconsciousness. The man laid the bottle near Shadi Enigmar's body, making his leave right as the door opened.
Phoenix burst into the tiny room, shocked at the scene before him.
Ms. Orly lost the fight with Zak Gramerye, it seemed. She lay unconscious on the other side of the room.
Zak Gramerye was dead, slumped in his chair with his hat fallen off. Blood crusted his head.
Someone else had been in here, he was sure of it. Phoenix had just missed him.
He snuck a peek into the passageway, taking note of the recent use. He'd have known the shoeprints from anywhere. But he needed more proof.
The phone call confirmed his theory. Phoenix knew exactly what had happened here.
Time to expose the man who ruined his life.
Calisto, he called her. She supposed it didn't matter. One name was as accurate as any other.
She's gone to see Kristoph in prison, the day after his confession. He'd been suitably angry.
She felt indebted to him. He really had done everything he could to ensure she walked free. He even refused to defend himself against the shakiest accusation to ever be hurled in court. She knew why: the only way to dodge the blow was to indict her. If he went after the piano bum, the court's own ruling would ensure he lost.
It couldn't have been because he owed her. No one stuck to their bargains at the cost of their lives. She certainly hadn't.
She had to fix this. She couldn't spend her life in eternal debt again. Alba had been horrible.
She visited him a few months later. The parties worked out a deal: she created him a new life free of prison, and all debts could be called off.
Calisto waited two years before "murdering" Kristoph Gavin. Her end of the job had been perfect: the body was declared dead and disappeared before reaching a medical examiner. No evidence could be found pointing towards anyone. Within one month, the case would be declared cold.
Klavier couldn't believe it. When the courts declared the case cold, Klavier had stormed out the prosecutor's office. He wasn't sure when he'd be back. If he'd be back.
Klavier visited Kristoph's old house, which was coated with dust. It hadn't seen use since his brother's conviction. That had been over two years ago.
Kristoph had been murdered a month ago, but the police were never able to find a suspect. His body had disappeared after it was transported from the prison and replaced with a decoy. The killer had left not a trace of evidence. With no leads and, according to Herr Edgeworth, "more pressing matters at hand," the police department had no choice but to put the case away. It was never to be solved.
Klavier didn't know what to do. He hadn't known what to think when Kristoph had confessed to murder, hadn't known what to think when he faced him in the Misham trial. Prison had broken him.
Had it really been coincidence that Drew Misham died at exactly the right time for the Jurist system's test trial? Had no one questioned famed attorney Kristoph Gavin, who'd gotten clients out of the most solid charges, when he confessed to the shakiest murder accusation Klavier ever heard? When he'd done so without prompting, without motive Was Klavier the only one who thought something was wrong?
Was it all just desperate hope? He'd wanted to believe Kristoph, but Kristoph hadn't wanted to be believed. He'd wanted to stay in prison. That was the only answer that made sense.
Klavier tore through his brother's place, trying to find something, anything, to support his suspicions. If he showed something concrete to Herr Edgeworth, he would he able to investigate further
He spent hours searching. Eventually, Klavier grew tired. He fell asleep on Kristoph's bed. The faint scent of Kristoph lingered in the air. Later, Klavier would blame that scent for what he saw next.
Kristoph had almost been ready to go when he saw Klavier in his room. His brother was fast asleep.
"Come on!" Calisto insisted. "If he wakes up, we'll be caught."
Kristoph almost complied. Almost.
What kind of brother would he be if he didn't say goodbye?
He went digging through his closet, fetching and putting on a pure white suit. He offered the mirror his most serene smile. Without further ado, he awoke Klavier from the direction facing the window. The sunlight shone behind him, blurring his form.
"Come now, brother. I thought we promised to stop doing this."
Klavier gasped. He had to be dreaming. It couldn't be...
"Kris?"
He smiled sadly. "What, did you think I'd pass on without saying goodbye? To my only family, no less."
"How did you die? Who killed you?"
His older brother shook his head, hand near his face. "Let it go, Klavier. All your suspects are innocent. What difference will it make? I'll still be dead, you'll remain heartbroken, and at the end of it all, we'll never see each other again in this life."
"And what about you? Were you ever the person I thought you were?"
"Once upon a time. But not for very long," Kristoph sighed. "The price of success was high. I paid the way for both of us."
His face hardened. "That's how you justify killing two men?"
"Two?" Kristoph laughed. "I convinced even you? Perhaps I should have gone into acting."
"This isn't a joke Kris. Tell me what really happened!"
"You want to know if I killed them?" Klavier nodded. "I wasn't directly responsible for one, but I did help. I was accomplice to the crime I was charged with. As for the other... I was truly relieved when the poison trap failed. I'll never understand how it activated again."
"What are you talking about?"
"The poison trap was mine. And the forged evidence. I did seven years in penance, before everything returned to haunt me in the form of Zak Gramarye."
"And then you killed him. Ja?"
"Nein. I only wished to talk. But I had to take the fall. It was the only way to pay off my debt." Kristoph gestured to his attire. "But now, I am free. You should thank my killer for that."
Klavier was so confused. So he was right all along?
"Don't worry about me, Klavier. The darkness is gone forever. I died to ensure you could be happy. It was my choice to make, and I'm content with it."
Without warning, Klavier reached up to embrace Kristoph, tears in his eyes. Kristoph wiped his tears away and coaxed him back to sleep.
"Goodbye, Klavier. Never forget the truth you fight for. Not like me."
When Klavier awoke again, Kristoph was gone. There was no evidence anyone but him had visited the place in two years.
He was conflicted and confused, but also relieved.
"That was cruel," Calisto commented. She's been watching the whole time.
"No. It was a kindness," Kristoph replied, changing his clothes back. "A white lie won't kill him. He'll think it was all a dream."
She rolled her eyes, but went along with it. They had a flight to catch.
"Are you sure this will work, Calisto?"
"How often do you think I've done this before?"
She and her new fiancée traveled to Munich, Germany with new names and realistic looking passports. Together, they became successful defense lawyers in a country that didn't have enough of them.
After a few years, they indebted themselves to each other in the greatest way possible. They gave each other their hands in marriage.
A/N's: This isn't actually a new fic. It's a fic I wrote around 2015 and posted to Ao3, but not FFN. Once I realized I'd never uploaded it here, I did some edits to get it ready for posting. It's not my best work, but I still enjoy it. I wrote it in response to a prompt asking for a story where Kristoph wasn't guilty of Shadi Enigmar's murder. Hope you enjoyed!
