Aftershock
A/N: Just a quick one here, longer note at the bottom. This is set mostly between Turnabout Trump and Turnabout Corner in AA4. The last few scenes take place after Turnabout Rewind This Tape 300 Times, and Turnabout Succession. This story also takes place before my other story Gone Forever.
TRIGGER WARNING: Depression, Self-harm.
I do not own Ace Attorney.
April 21, 2026
Apollo Justice's Apartment
The words from his first and only trial spun around in his head as he sat in his darkened apartment. A man with much significance...he let out a hollow laugh. Mr. Wright couldn't possibly know what Kristoph meant to him. Then again, Phoenix Wright didn't seem to be the man he'd thought he was. He laid back on his bed and sighed. He wished he could erase that trial, the murder from ever happening, but Apollo Justice didn't have rewind powers. He grabbed a pillow and clutched it to his chest tightly. What was he supposed to do now?
His phone buzzed on the nightstand, and Apollo looked at it with disinterest before grabbing it. He unlocked the screen and saw it was another text from Clay.
You still haven't told me about your case yet :)
Apollo sighed and let the phone drop next to him. The trial was yesterday and he'd been avoiding Clay since. He knew Clay was just excited to hear about his first trial, but how could Apollo explain that his whole world came crashing down? He rolled over onto his stomach, picking his phone back up. He knew he had to say something, or else Clay would barge in here unannounced.
I won. Sorry I've had a migraine
He felt guilty not telling Clay the whole truth, but he wasn't exactly lying either. The stress of the situation had given him a headache. His phone buzzed again and he glanced on the message on the lock screen. Clay had simply sent a frowning face emoji. He sighed and tossed it aside. His emotions were drowning him, crushing him. Everything from the trial was building up inside him. It was becoming unbearable, the guilt, the anger, the sorrow. He'd do anything to get rid of these emotions. He grabbed at his left upper arm with his right hand, his index finger tracing over an old, forgotten scar.
He knew what his therapist would say if she knew what he was thinking right now. He'd never told Kristoph about his...old habit, but somehow Kristoph picked up on something and sent him to whom he declared was the best therapist in the city. She was great, Apollo would admit, but she was paid for by Kristoph. Everything he associated with Kristoph felt tarnished now. He wouldn't call her. He was on his own now, and he knew what he could do to cut out the pain.
He walked over to his desk, sitting in his chair. Even though he hasn't done this for years, the motions are still familiar to him. He reached into the top right drawer, pulling it out as far as it will go. Under the pile of junk he pulled out a sealed, brand new razor blade. He knew he shouldn't have kept one, just in case he'd told himself, but here in this moment now, he was glad he had. Staring at it in his hand, the pull of the razor blade was overwhelming. He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, allowing himself to take in the sense of calm the razor blade gave him.
Apollo wasn't proud of his past, his shameful habit, the scars littering his body. But now, in this moment, he didn't care about any of that. He just wanted to stop feeling, and his razor blade was the key. He stripped down to his boxers and walked into the bathroom. He stared at his mostly naked body in the mirror, running a hand over a few of his scars.
Was this right?
I don't care.
He sat on the toilet, blade poised over his right thigh. He didn't think he would ever be doing this again, but his emotions are overwhelming him.
"You, Mr. Kristoph Gavin."
"A man of much significance..."
"I still can't believe I just saw Mr. Gavin get led away in handcuffs..."
"Forged evidence..."
"You, Apollo."
Apollo brings the blade down, his first cut slow, hesitant, careful. He sees the blood flow out and sighed in relief. He brought the blade down again, no longer hesitant. It turned out cutting yourself is like riding a bicycle. You don't forget.
Kristoph.
Phoenix Wright.
A single piece of forged evidence.
Apollo Justice.
A cut for everyone and everything causing him pain. It's so much easier to deal with this physical pain, instead of grieving over a murderer. A monster. He set the blade down and reached over for some toilet paper. He hissed when he pressed it against his skin, not in pain but in satisfaction. He limped over to his first aid kit, cleaning and bandaging the fresh cuts. Once that was done, he turned his attention to the bloodied blade. He rinsed it off and dried it well, and stuck it in his medicine cabinet underneath a bottle of acetaminophen. With everything cleaned up, he limped back into his bedroom. He pulled on a fresh shirt from his drawer and went back to his bed. He laid there on top of the blankets, his mind unfocused. He drifted off to sleep, vaguely wondering if he would regret his actions in the morning.
April 22, 2026
Apollo woke up the next morning to the sound of his phone buzzing again. He rolled over and grabbed it, scrubbing his face with his other hand. It was another message from Clay.
Dude! I saw your case in the paper! Why didn't you tell me about Kristoph?
Apollo sighed. He should have figured the case would make it to the papers. Kristoph and Phoenix were both legendary attorneys. He shifted and felt a twinge of pain in his leg. He looked down at the bandage and remembered what he'd done yesterday. He felt guilty, but at the same time there was nothing he'd like more than to lock himself in the bathroom and do it all over again. He shook his head, trying to get the thoughts out of his head. He focused back on the phone.
I didn't want it to be real, he texted honestly.
You're going to have to tell me what happened. Lunch? I'm not taking no for an answer Apollo!
Apollo sighed. Clay was being honest; if Apollo didn't meet up with him, he'd just break down his door.
I'll meet you at the space station. Apollo glanced at the time and then pulled up his internet browser. He wanted to see this article for himself.
"Famed Defense Attorney Kristoph Gavin Arrested for Murder!" Apollo clicked on the article, quickly scanning it.
"Ace attorney turned pianist Phoenix Wright...accused of murdering a traveler, Shadi Smith...scandal seven years ago...Kristoph Gavin and his associate, Apollo Justice..."
The article described the case pretty accurately, but provided no hints to any motive Kristoph may have had to kill Shadi Smith. Then again, Apollo couldn't provide a motive either. He stared at the accompanying photo, Kristoph being led out of the courthouse in handcuffs. He angrily threw his phone down on the bed. None of this made any sense. Kristoph was skilled, highly successful. Why kill someone he barely knew? Why would he leave Apollo behind like this?
He paced the room frantically. Abandoned by his family, abandoned by Dhurke, betrayed by his hero, Phoenix Wright, betrayed and left behind by his mentor, by the only other father figure he had left...
Apollo moved quickly to the bathroom. He stripped his clothes off once again and pulled open the medicine cabinet. He took out the razor blade, slamming the cabinet door shut again. He sat on the toilet, his cuts this time angrier than yesterday.
His mother, his father, whoever they were.
Dhurke, Nahyuta.
Phoenix Wright.
Kristoph Gavin.
Cut. Cut. Cut. Cut. Cut. Cut.
The last one is a little deeper than he meant, but the anger has finally left him. He feels spent, like he just ran a marathon, but he also feels significantly more relaxed. Apollo cleaned the blade in silence, putting it back in it's hiding spot. He stared at himself in the mirror, lifting a hand to his face, which seemed to have lost it's color. He shook his head to clear it; he needed to clean himself up and go meet Clay. He wrapped up the fresh cuts, and pulled the bandages off the cuts from yesterday. He looked at the blood that had dripped on the floor before shrugging and turning off the light. At least he'd have something to do later.
"Hey, Mr. Starbuck," Apollo greeted, trying to sound like his usual upbeat self.
"Hey there, Apollo. You grabbing Clay for lunch?" Solomon Starbuck responded cheerfully, picking up files that were lying around.
"He is," Clay interjected, putting an arm over Apollo's shoulders. "I'll be back on time, Mr. Starbuck." Clay turned Apollo around, leading him out the door. The second they were on the ground floor, outside, Clay turned to him.
"Apollo, what in the world happened?" he asked immediately. Apollo sighed and walked over to a nearby bench on the grounds.
"Are you planning on actually eating lunch or did you just plan to grill me?"
Clay waved him off, sitting down next to him. "I have another break later. Why did you tell me you'd won your case but not that Kristoph was arrested?"
Apollo pinched his nose between his fingers. He loved Clay, he really did, he just did not feel like talking about this right now. "I didn't want to think about it. What am I supposed to say? What am I supposed to do?"
"How about 'hey Clay, I got Phoenix Wright off the hook but my boss got arrested for the murder instead, please bring over a six-pack', or something like that." Apollo huffed at that.
"I wasn't lying about my migraine, you know I don't like to drink when my head is killing me. I don't know, I...I guess I just still haven't processed it."
Clay looked at him silently. "Well, at some point you're going to process it, and when you do it's gonna hurt. As for what you're going to do...you still have a badge, Apollo, you can still practice law."
"Yeah, but not at Gavin Law Offices. Plus, I'm still a rookie. Who's really going to hire me?"
"There's no reason not to put yourself out there, Apollo! I know you're going to be a great lawyer. Someone out there will give you a chance." Apollo almost told Clay about Phoenix's offer, but decided not to. He knew Clay would push him to accept it, and he didn't want to.
Of course Clay's thoughts were on the same wavelength. "Well, at least tell me about Phoenix Wright! The guy's been your idol for so long."
"He's not who I thought he was," Apollo said, leaning forward to lean his arms on his legs. "I'm glad he wasn't guilty of murder but...I think the rumors from seven years ago are true."
I'm talking about evidence that shouldn't have existed. A naughty magician's trick...
"About forging evidence?" Apollo wasn't looking at Clay's face to see his reaction, but he could hear the shock evident in his voice.
Didn't you notice? There was a single piece of forged evidence.
Apollo nodded, his throat dry. "Yes. He admitted one of the key pieces of evidence for this trial was forged as well."
"If he admitted he forged evidence, why didn't you turn him in?"
Apollo shrugged, shaking his head. "It wouldn't have mattered. It wouldn't have changed the outcome. It was a piece of evidence only the killer would have known was fake. And Kristoph admitted to the crime."
Clay touched Apollo's shoulder gently, so Apollo turned to look at him. "Did Kristoph say why...?"
"Why he killed a traveler? A stranger? No, he didn't. The police haven't been able to provide a motive. The courts haven't been able to provide a motive. I haven't been able to find anything, any kind of reasoning, any explanation. I went back to the office immediately after the trial, before the rest of the staff knew what happened. I tore it apart. There's nothing. No evidence, no motive. I just don't know."
Both are quiet, Clay giving Apollo a moment. "Did you go to the Manor?" he eventually asked quietly.
"No. I don't live there anymore, it's not my business. Whatever Kristoph did, I'm not invading his privacy like that." Clay nodded.
"Ok, I get it. No more about Kristoph or Phoenix Wright. So what have you done the past couple days? Just holed up in your apartment?"
Apollo nodded. "Yeah, pretty much. I know you're going to say I need to get out there looking for another job, I know, I just can't...I'm not ready yet." Clay nodded sadly and grabbed Apollo's hand in support.
"I understand. I won't press ya. I know what Kristoph meant to you. Just know that I'm here for whatever you need. Even if it's just to get out for a little bit, you know Mr. Starbuck doesn't mind when you come around. Heck, he'd probably keep you busy if you let him. He's great but he sure is terrible with files and records," Clay laughed. Apollo finally smiled at that.
"I'll keep that in mind," he said, standing. "Your lunch is about up. Get back to work."
"You sure you're ok?" Clay asked, following Apollo's lead and standing.
"I'm not, but I will be. You worry about me too much."
"Then say it." Apollo sighed, knowing what Clay meant.
"I'm Apollo Justice, and I'm fine." Clay put an arm around Apollo's shoulders, giving him a quick side hug.
"Next time you say it, I want you to mean it," he said, giving Apollo a small shove. Apollo gave him a faint smile.
"I'll talk to you later, Clay," he said, turning to leave. Clay watched him walk to the end of the street, turning to go back into the space station once Apollo had turned the corner. He walked in a daze, thinking about everything Apollo had told him, and he couldn't help but worry. He was so focused on his thoughts, he almost walked right into Mr. Starbuck.
"Hey!" he said, putting a hand up in time to stop Clay from walking into him.
"Oh, sorry, Mr. Starbuck. I was just thinking."
"About Apollo? Everything ok? He seemed a little...off." Clay sighed, it wasn't his story to tell. Apollo had a lot of respect for Mr. Starbuck, and Mr. Starbuck knew him almost as well as Clay, but he didn't think Apollo would want Clay spilling his secrets.
"I don't know..."
The rest of the day passed by without Apollo noticing. He knew Clay was right, he should get himself out there looking for a job but...he just didn't care. He didn't even have the energy to try to care. He just felt empty. He rolled over on the couch, drifting back to sleep.
April 24, 2026
He didn't know what time it was when he woke up; apparently, his phone was dead. Not that it mattered, of course. Nothing mattered anymore. Calico was crying, though, so he figured it was time to feed her. Apollo fed her and walked lazily back to the couch. He tried turning on the TV, to give himself something else to focus on, but when the screen lit up the news was on, and they were still discussing the disasterous State v Wright case. He turned the TV back off and threw the remote away from him.
Apollo didn't know what was worse, the negative emotions piling on top of each other or this intense apathetic mood. First he was feeling too many emotions, now he wasn't feeling anything. He got up and walked back into the bathroom. He took off just his shirt this time, raising the razor blade to his upper arm. He let the blade show him how to feel.
April 26, 2026
Apollo awoke to his phone buzzing. He lifted his head slowly, trying to locate it while rubbing sleep out of his eyes. It was plugged into the charger, although he doesn't remember doing that. He unlocked it and wasn't braced for the display on his screen that said that he had 20 missed calls and numerous missed texts from Clay. There was also one from Mr. Starbuck, and one from an unknown number. He checked the one from Mr. Starbuck first.
Hey kid, Clay's going nuts trying to get ahold of you. Everything ok? Call him when you have a chance, or he might break down your door -SS
Apollo sighed, passing over the message from the unknown number and clicking on the thread between him and Clay. The last message was timestamped from a half hour earlier.
Apollo, if I don't hear from you in the next hour, I will be kicking down your door with or without the fucking cops
Apollo scrambled to hit reply.
Clay I'm fine
WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?
I'm at my apartment. Sorry I think I got the flu, and my phone was dead. Didn't mean to make you worry
His stomach clenched at the lie to Clay but, as he glanced at the fresh marks on his upper arm, he knew Clay would overreact if he knew Apollo had fallen back to his old habit. They'd talked about it before, briefly, when Apollo told him that his therapist diagnosed him with depression. But Apollo had made it very clear that he had no desire to cut again, and Clay had made it very clear that if that ever changed then Apollo was to call him immediately.
It was hard; he knew he should just be honest with Clay. But Clay would just tell him to take his antidepressants, which he hated, and go talk to his Kristoph-provided therapist. And this time was different. He could stop if he wanted to. He just didn't want to yet, and that was fine. But he knew Clay wouldn't see it that way.
Jesus I almost called the cops. At least make sure your phone's on the charger when you're sick. Do you need me to bring anything over?
No I'll be ok. I don't want you to catch it. It's been pretty nasty.
I'll take your word for it. Get some more rest, text me later. Gotta get back to work.
Will do.
Apollo let out a sigh of relief, still feeling guilty. He went back and opened up the message from the unknown number.
The offer still stands, provided you don't punch me in the face again.
No signature, but it didn't need one. He'd only punched one person in the face (recently, that is). Apollo's blood was suddenly boiling again.
How dare he.
Apollo didn't give out his number to many people, and he couldn't begin to fathom how Phoenix Wright had gotten it or why he'd thought Apollo would want to get in contact with him. Apollo thought punching him in the face made his answer very clear; a firm, hard no. He deleted the message and threw his phone down, not caring or even noticing when it tumbled off the bed onto the floor. He paced the floor irritably, touching the fresh marks on his arm and the old scars. He strode into the bathroom and tried to compose himself, but the irritability and restlessness wouldn't leave him. Finally, he caved, opening up the medicine cabinet once again...
Date: ?
Time: ?
Time begins passing oddly for Apollo. It moves both slowly and too quickly at the same time. He quickly lost track of the date or even what day of the week it is. Clay is at some kind of special, out-of-state training; when he left and how long he said he'd be gone, Apollo doesn't remember. It's almost easier this way, not having someone check on him constantly.
His emotions run haywire, too. Either he's swallowed in his sadness and anger, or he doesn't feel anything at all. He knows he's sleeping too much and showering too little, cutting too much and eating too little, but he can't find it in himself to care. The couch is his favorite spot, and he spends most of his time there sleeping. His habit of slipping into the bathroom to cut open his skin becomes routine; a routine he looks forward to. He knows it's wrong, and he realizes on some level that he's having what his therapist called a depressive episode, but he just can't get himself to care anymore.
Date: ?
Time: ?
Apollo Justice's Apartment
Apollo was in one of his apathetic moods when he heard someone knocking on the door. He almost sat up, but then decided he doesn't really care who it is. Let them think he isn't home. He rolled over on the couch, letting his eyes slide closed again.
Except whoever it is has a key, because the next thing he knew the door was opening.
"Apollo?" It could really only be his landlord or Clay, and of course it's Clay. He still doesn't respond, not in the mood for talking, but he heard Clay approach anyways.
"Apollo," Clay said again, turning him over on the couch as he knelt next to him. "My God," he breathed, taking in the sight. Apollo almost panicked before he remembered his cuts are covered, and the rest of him must really look that bad.
"Apollo, what...?"
"What are you doing here? I thought you had training in Texas. And I'm fine. Just tired today. " A strange look passed over Clay's face.
"Today? Or a couple weeks? Apollo, what day is it? How long ago was your trial?"
"About a week ago, wasn't it?" The lines of concern on Clay's face grew deeper with that answer.
"Apollo...it's May 14. The trial was almost a month ago."
"..."
"Well, that explains why you reek. Have you been eating?"
"When I'm hungry."
"Which is when?"
"Not often," Apollo admitted. He sat up so that Clay could sit next to him on the couch. "I'll be fine, Clay, it's just one of my moods. Just a phase."
"Just a phase that started because you lost your job, your hero, and your boss slash father figure in one day. It's not just a fucking phase, Apollo. Why didn't you tell me you were having an episode?"
"I didn't want to worry you. I'd snap out of it eventually." Clay grabbed Apollo's forearms forcefully, turning him to look him in the eyes.
"Apollo. It's my job to worry about you. Just like it's your job to worry about me. That's what best friends are for, right? The good and the bad? Sickness and in health? For richer, for poorer?"
"Clay, we're not married."
"Eh, same thing," Clay said, shrugging. "We got each other's backs. But I need you to let me in. And don't think I'll leave you alone if you don't let me in. I'm not letting you off easy. Have you taken your antidepressants lately?" Apollo grimaced.
"No. You know I hate those things, Clay." Clay frowned at that.
"And I told you that if you hate them then they're not working, and you probably need to try a different kind or a different dose. Have you talked to your therapist at all?"
"You mean the therapist Kristoph paid for? No, I haven't really felt inclined." A wave of understanding went through Clay at this. It was a weird, sort of warped logic, but he could understand it. He also noted the bitter tone in Apollo's voice and felt a rush of sadness for his friend. He remembered his words the last time he'd spoken to Apollo. At some point you're going to process it, and when you do it's gonna hurt. He hated that he was right. At the same time, though, Apollo clearly hadn't processed it. He was still locking himself in his grief and his anger. Clay sighed.
"I'm sorry, Apollo. I should have come over sooner."
"You have your own life, Clay. You were busy with work. You don't need to come over and take care of me and babysit me."
"Don't do that, Apollo. My life is not more important than yours. And I'm an adult, I'll do what I want to, and right now I want to be there for my best friend. Whether you want me or not. Now, let's get you showered, and I'll cook while you scrub yourself clean because it's going to take you a while, and when you're nice and and clean and smelling like roses, you're going to come and eat, and we're going to watch cheesy movies, or sci-fi movies, whatever you're in the mood for."
"..."
"Alright, come on now," Clay insisted, standing and holding out a hand to pull Apollo up. Apollo stared at it for a minute before taking it, letting Clay pull him to his feet. Clay quickly put an arm around his waist when Apollo started to sway, clearly unsteady on his feet.
"Ok, I'm gonna walk you to the bathroom then. I hope you'll be ok in the shower by yourself, because I love you, I really do, but I don't want to see all that." Apollo chuckled weakly.
"Nothing you haven't seen before. I'll be fine. At least the room stopped spinning, anyway." They made it to the bathroom door and Clay flicked on the lights. It wasn't horribly messy, not that Clay was expecting it to be because clearly, Apollo hadn't washed himself lately. No, what caught his eye was the small amount of blood on the sink and floor, and the first aid kit left lying out and open. If you didn't know Apollo well, it wouldn't really be a reason for concern. But Clay did know Apollo. Very well actually, probably better than he knew himself. And he's cursing himself for not catching it before.
"Apollo. Take off your shirt." Apollo looked confused.
"What do you mean? I told you, Clay, I can shower by myself, I'll be fine."
"Not to shower. Where did you cut yourself, Apollo?" The room went deadly silent, Clay flickering between anger at himself and concern for Apollo. Apollo was terrified, ready to deny everything.
What...?" is all he can get out. Clay stepped closer and gently pushed Apollo's sleeves up to his shoulders. There were a lot of older scars, deep with the color faded, but there are clearly fresh lines scabbing up both his upper arms. Apollo looked away, ashamed.
"Why?" Clay choked out, lightly touching one of the newer marks.
"I'm sorry," Apollo whispered so quietly Clay almost didn't catch it. He put both arms around Apollo and suddenly pulled him in close, squeezing him as tight as he could while being cautious around his scars. Apollo stiffened at first, before relaxing and returning the gesture. The two boys stood there for an immeasurable amount of time. Finally, Clay pulled back from Apollo, gently pushing him to sit on the toilet, as he sat on the edge of the bathtub.
"Apollo. I'm not going to push you, but you need to talk to someone, even if it's just me. When did it start?" Apollo is quiet for a moment, weighing his options, but then he looked at Clay and realized he couldn't and didn't want to hide anything from his best friend. So he took a breath to speak.
"The day after the trial."
"The day...I saw you the day after that. You'd already cut yourself?" Clay felt his insides squeeze, he felt like a terrible friend for not noticing.
Apollo nodded. "Twice. I'd cut myself twice by that point."
"I think you need to tell me everything about the trial now. Before, during, after. What led you to pick up cutting again?" Apollo sighed, leaning back against the toilet.
"That trial...was weird from the get-go. Wright originally asked for Kristoph, then at the last second, asked for me. I know why now, of course, but at the time it didn't make sense. In the middle of the trial, he started claiming there was a fourth person at the scene. He made it clear he thought that person was Kristoph, and as much as I hated it, it made sense."
"Why?"
"Kristoph knew things about the scene he shouldn't have. The color on the back of the cards, the fact that the victim was bald...I didn't want to say it; actually, I couldn't say it. When the moment came, I couldn't accuse Kristoph."
Let's hear what the defense has to say. Who was it? Who thought the cards used in the final game were blue?
"What happened then?"
"Wright jumped behind the defense bench, next to me. Kristoph took the stand."
In other words, you'd have to be the real killer... is what you're trying to say.
"'Is it going to be a problem for you to cross-examine your own boss?' That's what Wright said to me." Clay inhaled sharply.
"He didn't know, then. He didn't know Kristoph was more than just your boss?"
"How could he have, Clay? How could anyone? Kristoph never officially adopted me, and I wasn't living in the Manor with him anymore. Probably you and Mr. Starbuck are the only ones that know," Apollo said, shrugging helplessly. "Eventually, I couldn't fight it anymore. Wright was stacking all the evidence against him. I tried to disassociate during those last moments of the trial. From the moment I finally accused him to the moment he admitted everything, I tried to pretend like I wasn't there."
"What happened after the trial?"
"I got into an argument with Wright. He told me that one of the key pieces of evidence, the bloody ace, had been faked. I...lost my cool, and I decked him." Clay shifted, slightly surprised.
"You hit him? Well, I guess I don't really blame you. I just haven't seen you punch anyone in quite a while." Apollo chuckled darkly.
"Yeah, it's been a while. I just lost my temper. I would NEVER use forged evidence...but now I have. Because of him."
"...What did he do after that?" At this, Apollo laughed and laughed, to the point where Clay was giving him concerned looks. "Apollo?"
"He offered me a job." Clay almost fell off the edge of the bathtub.
"He what?!" Apollo finally stopped laughing, wiping his face and taking deep breaths.
"He said I should come work for him."
"But...he's not a lawyer anymore."
"For good reason, Clay. I don't know that I could go work for him even if I was desperate."
"...Ok, so what happened when you got home?"
"I don't really remember clearly. Everything's kind of fuzzy after that. I don't remember cutting myself all too clearly," he admitted, standing up to take off his pants. Clay let out a sharp breath upon seeing the many marks and scars on Apollo's legs, mostly on his thighs. "I cut here first, I think, and went to bed. After I texted you the next day, I looked up the article about Kristoph. I was just so...angry. So angry and so upset at the same time. I lost control of my emotions. I cut myself again, and then went to meet you." Apollo saw a sadness in Clay's eyes, but thankfully no pity. "I told myself this time was different. I didn't need to cut, I just wanted to, and I could stop any time I wanted."
"Time moved strangley after that. Days blended together and I think I just slept through a lot of days. I lost track of things. I think that's when my episode and my relapse became undeniable. It's been taking everything I have just to wake up in the morning, to get up and feed Calico. I just...I feel so lost, Clay. It doesn't make sense. How could Kristoph leave me behind like that?" Apollo leaned forward, clutching his head in his hands and sobbing. Clay moved closer, putting his arms back around Apollo, letting him get it out. It took a while, but eventually his sobbing began to slow. Clay wordlessly began removing the various bandages on Apollo, inspecting the wounds.
"I'm sorry for what Kristoph did. I'm sorry I didn't get here sooner. You've always been so strong, Apollo, but it's ok to ask for help. I understand you don't want to use your previous therapist, but I think you should find a new one. And I think you should get your medication switched. I'll be there with you the whole way."
"I don't deserve your help. I shouldn't even be grieving over Kristoph."
"No! I will NOT let you talk like that, Apollo. I need my best friend. You helped me when my mom died. Now it's time for me to help you. Kristoph wasn't your father, but I think he filled that space in your heart, even just a little, and to have it ripped away from you...I'm not surprised you reacted the way you did. You deserve help, Apollo. It's ok to grieve over Kristoph." Apollo just stood there, shivering, his gaze still far away, and Clay isn't sure whether he heard anything he just said. Finally, he nodded.
"What happens now?"
"First, you're going to take a shower because, in the politest way possible of course, you really stink. Then Apollo and Clay, the two bestest buds in the whole world, are going to sit here and figure things out. While you eat, of course." Apollo smiled weakly at that, and stood up. He turned towards the faucets of the tubs to turn the water on, but before he could, Clay grabbed his shoulder. When Apollo turned to face him, he noticed he looked slightly uncomfortable.
"I'm sorry, but...where are your razors?"Apollo flushed before turning back to the faucets.
"Under the acetaminophen," he replied quietly. He heard Clay lift the bottle and put it back down, and he knew he'd never see those razor blades again. He turned the hot water on, just a splash of cold, and turned to see if Clay had left so he could fully undress. Clay was stood at the door, his fist clenched. He opened his mouth and then shut it, as if unsure of what else to say. He stepped out the doorway, turning back at the last second.
"I love you, Apollo. I don't care what happens, what you do, you'll always be my brother. I'll let you get to your shower now, though." With that, he turned and left, pulling the door closed behind him. Apollo stood still for a minute, reflecting. He didn't know what he did to deserve Clay, but he was sure glad he had him.
While he was in the shower, Clay grabbed Apollo's phone off the charger. He unlocked it, tapping on the internet icon. The page that loaded was the article about Kristoph he'd mentioned. Clay stared at the picture for a moment before shaking his head and closing that tab. Sure, Apollo could always just reopen the article, but Clay didn't think he would go looking for it again, and it was better that that wasn't the first thing he saw on his phone. He was about to set the phone back down when it buzzed. Clay jumped, startled to see that a message had come in from a number that wasn't saved in Apollo's phone. Clay hesitated for a second before clicking on it curiously.
Apollo, I'm just trying to help you out. It is my fault your boss is in jail.
Clay knew instantly that the message must have come from Phoenix Wright, Apollo's story about punching Wright in the face ringing in his ears. He typed the number into his own phone, before deleting the message from Apollo's. He set Apollo's phone back on the charger and picked up his, opening the text message app.
I thought you were an ace attorney.
The reply was instant. Who is this?
A friend of Apollo's. He doesn't know I'm texting you. I just want to leave you with this: Kristoph Gavin wasn't just his boss.
Halfway across the city, Phoenix Wright cursed loudly, guilt and worry beginning to eat at him.
When Apollo was finally done in the shower (it had taken him a while to wash through his hair), he found Clay sitting on his bed, petting Calico.
"I have dinner on the stove. You didn't have much, but you had enough for spaghetti." Apollo nodded, sitting down beside him. "Do any of those need new bandages?" he asked, nodding at Apollo's legs and arms. The hot water had certainly made them stand out more, but they didn't appear to be actively bleeding. Apollo shook his head.
"No, they should be ok."
"Should probably put some neosporin on, just in case," Clay said. Apollo nodded, taking the tube Clay held up for him. They were quiet as Apollo spread the ointment on the fresher cuts.
"How do you feel?" Clay asked Apollo.
"Not great, but not terrible anymore. Thank you, Clay," he said softly. Clay nudged his shoulder against Apollo's.
"You know I'll be here with you every step of the way, but most of this you're gonna have to do on your own." Apollo nodded.
"I know. And I'm ready. I was thinking in the shower. I might never understand why Kristoph threw his life away, but I don't have to throw mine away with his."
"You know what you gotta do."
"Clay..." Apollo groaned. Clay nudged him to his feet.
"Come on, say it three times and it'll be true." Apollo sighed.
"My name is Apollo Justice, and I'm fine."
"Again."
"My name is Apollo Justice, and I'm fine."
"Better, but where are those Chords of Steel?" Clay teased.
"MY NAME IS APOLLO JUSTICE, AND I'M FINE!" Clay rolled on the bed, laughing, as someone in the apartment below began tapping on the ceiling; Apollo flushed, before breaking down laughing himself.
"Guess I overdid it a little," he said when he was able to catch his breath. He sat back down on the bed, shoving Clay over a little. He became very quiet suddenly. Clay sobered up and turned to look at him.
"What's going on in that big forehead of yours?"
"I remember how hard it is to stop cold turkey. And I feel ok now, but this episode isn't just magically over. What happens tomorrow when I feel low again?"
"Then you go to the couch and wake me up and say Clay, I'm feeling low."
"You're not going to be here forever."
"Watch me," Clay smiled cheekily.
"What about work, and your own apartment?"
"I don't have any pets so I think my inanimate apartment will be fine without me for a while. And you, my good sir, could absolutely do with getting out of the house for a while, and I told you before that Mr. Starbuck likes when you're at the space station. Says it reminds him of our high school days. And actually, he's been worried about you too, so I'm sure he would be doubly happy to have you hanging around. I told you, Apollo, you're stuck with me." Apollo felt a surge of gratitude so strong he was sure his heart was going to burst. "So, did you decide what you want to watch? Because you don't have a whole lot of food but you do have a bunch of popcorn."
"...Marvel marathon?" Clay jumped up in excitement.
"It's like we're the same person, or you read my mind! I'll get Iron Man ready!" Clay exclaimed as he ran out of the room. Apollo laughed, getting up to follow him.
"But technically, Captain America is first!" he called after him.
"Technically, schmechnically. No offense, I love all the Marvel movies but that first Cap one puts me to sleep."
"You've never stayed awake through the whole movie, so how would you know you don't like it?"
"I read the plot on Wikipedia, I'm fine."
"Well then, Captain Marvel also comes before Iron Man."
"Ugh, Apollo, I just really want to watch Iron Man. Can you please let me bypass the official order just this once? You know you like some RDJ too," Apollo laughed at him and sat on the couch.
"Ok, ok. Iron Man it is."
May 15, 2026
Wright Talent Agency
Phoenix Wright paced his office early the next morning. He'd stayed up all night after he got out of work, trying (and failing) to find a bigger connection between Apollo and Kristoph than just teacher and student. His own searches were fruitless and, frustrated, he'd finally called Gumshoe an hour ago.
"Pal, I know I owe you a favor, but if the kid ain't a criminal I don't really have any reason to go finding a file of his personal information."
"I understand, Gumshoe, I just...can you just tell me if anything connects him to Kristoph Gavin, besides the fact that he worked at his firm?" He heard Gumshoe sigh on the other end.
"I'll see what I can do. I'll text you later."
Phoenix continued to pace, thinking about Apollo and his bracelet and what it meant; about Zak, and Trucy; and finally, that trial. He's remembering Apollo's face when it came time to name Kristoph, the pain in his expression when he just couldn't say it. He has an inkling, he's just really hoping Gumshoe proves him wrong.
As if his thoughts summoned him, his phone lit up with a message from Gumshoe.
Took a little digging. Justice's address until just a year ago was the same as Gavin's, at that manor. I checked with his high school, and his emergency contact was Gavin. He received a good deal of scholarships and financial aid for college and law school, but the amount that wasn't covered was paid for by Gavin. Nothing concrete, but undeniable.
Sorry pal. I'm guessing that's not what you wanted to hear.
Phoenix felt his knees buckle, collapsing on top of Trucy's stuff on the couch. How could he have missed this? He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He didn't regret outing Kristoph as the killer. He just regretted making Apollo be the one to do so. He pulled his phone back out, remembering the message he received that started this.
Kristoph Gavin wasn't just his boss. He read that line over and over, trying to figure out if there was anything at all he could do or say to apologize to Apollo. And as much as he hated himself for it, part of him found this information intriguing. Kristoph Gavin didn't strike him as the type to take in a charge, much less a teenager. But he had, so why? Why Apollo? Was it possible Kristoph actually knew the connection between Apollo and the Gramaryes? No, nobody knew that until that night in the club, and one of the people who knew is now dead. He groaned, pushing the thoughts out of his head. There was no point in wondering about Kristoph's choices. He had to make his own now, to make amends.
Clay woke up to the sound of his phone chirping. He groaned, sitting up on the air mattress they'd brought out to the living room. The menu for Thor was on repeat on the TV while Apollo snored on the couch, Calico curled up on the top of the couch. She perked her ears up when she saw Clay sit up, clearly hoping to be fed. Clay shrugged, picking up his phone while he stood up, and walked to the kitchen. He filled Calico's food bowl and changed her water, earning a purr. He sat down at the kitchen table and pulled up the message he'd just gotten.
I'm sorry. Is there anything I can do? Clay sighed. He wasn't the one Wright needed to apologize to. But he also knew none of this was Wright's fault, either.
Sorry I texted you like that yesterday. Apollo's not been in a good place, so I saw red.
Is he ok?
He will be. He's strong. He just needs some time.
I wasn't trying to push him into working for me. I felt bad for making him lose his job. I feel worse putting him in that position at all. I thought I knew Kristoph. I never would have imagined that he'd take someone in like that.
Kristoph is a private person. He didn't want people to know about Apollo, so they didn't. Not your fault.
Still...
I have a question.
Shoot.
You want Apollo to work for you. But how can you expect him to trust you when you admitted you forge evidence?
…
Forged. Once. This past trial, the bloody ace. A trump card to ensure Kristoph couldn't snake his way out. I haven't done it before and I will never do it again.
No matter my reasons, it was inexcusable, and it was unfair to force Apollo to be the one to present it. I will spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to him if I have to, if I'm able to.
So the rumor about seven years ago...
Is a rumor. I never forged anything. The evidence I presented was forged, but I didn't know that. I was foolish, careless.
If you didn't forge it, who did?
It's something I've been looking into for quite a while. But please, keep that to yourself. I don't want people to know I'm investigating it. It could be dangerous.
Dangerous?
People involved in that case keep turning up dead. I'd like to keep yourself and Apollo away from that.
…
I will talk to Apollo for you.
If you promise me something.
What?
Don't judge Apollo now that you know the relationship between him and Kristoph. He lived with him a good chunk of his life, and spent most of his life idolizing him. Actually, idolizing both of you. I want to make sure that whatever grudge you might hold against Kristoph, you don't transfer to Apollo. Apollo is his own person, and makes his own choices. He always tries to do what he thinks is right. Just...remember that.
I will. Thank you.
What's your name?
Clay.
Hopefully I get to meet you someday, kid. If you need anything, if Apollo needs anything, you have my number.
A couple weeks later
Gavin Manor
Apollo hadn't told Clay where he was going, telling him instead that he needed some air, and he'd be fine walking around by himself while Clay was at work. He knew this was something he needed to do on his own. Which is why he found himself approaching Gavin Manor early on a Saturday morning.
He unlocked the front door and walked in. His eyes took in the parlor, noting that not much had changed that he could see. It was almost weird that Kristoph's huge dog, Vongole, wasn't here to jump up on him, but the police had said one of Kristoph's more distant relatives with a large plot of land had offered to take the dog. He stepped cautiously on the stairs, mentally preparing himself for the rooms above. He walked past the first room, one he never went in; Kristoph had always forbidden it. He walked past the middle room for now, and headed into his own old room.
It's exactly like he left it, and he's vaguely surprised. He'd gotten new furniture for his apartment, mostly from Kristoph, so most of his old stuff is still here. His bed, his dresser, the bookcases of law books (he'd taken the fun books with him), and his wall of pictures are all still in tact, as though Kristoph hadn't bothered touching his room since he left. He walked over to his old bed, sitting down and kicking his shoes off. He swung his legs up and laid back. It's hard to believe how much his life has changed since the last time he was in here. If he closed his eyes almost all the way, he could see the ghosts of this house, moments in the past almost forgetten, still lingering.
"Apollo, it's about time for dinner. Did you finish your homework?"
"Is Clay coming over this weekend? I have pot roast that needs eating."
"Apollo, you can't seriously be done with that textbook already. It's full of complicated legal jargon."
"Congratulations on your graduation, boys. I'm proud of you, Apollo."
The memories flooded him, but he didn't let them overwhelm him as he would have previously. He let them soak in, reminding himself that it was ok to remember good times with Kristoph. Apollo laid there for a little while longer before standing up and looking over the room a final time. He walked back out of the room, slowly pulling the door closed behind him, his shoes in hand. He walked back to the middle room and grabbed the doorknob, hesitating before pushing it open.
Even when he had lived here, Apollo had never been in Kristoph's room that often. Still, it looked exactly like he remembered. Elegantly decorated, not a single thing out of place or dirty. The only thing missing was the large dog bed that had been in the corner. Apollo walked into the center of the room, closing his eyes and breathing deeply. He walked over to Kristoph's bed, his attention caught by the photos on the nightstand. He sat down gently and grabbed the first one. It was a family of blondes; Kristoph immediately recognizable, standing with whom Apollo assumed was his mother and father. He wasn't sure who the other little boy in the photo was, but his appearance suggested he was closely related to Kristoph. A cousin maybe? Kristoph never talked about his family much, Apollo only knew his parents died in a car crash. He placed the photo back down gently, reaching for the other.
The second photo was one Apollo recognized, having the same one at home. It was a photo of himself and Kristoph at his high school graduation. They were both smiling. I'm proud of you, Apollo.He smiled, remembering the day. He stared at the picture for a long time, probably too long, before finally setting it back down.
He'd originally come to see if there were any answers, any reasons lying around that might explain Kristoph's actions. He'd planned to dig through his drawers, his dresser, his closet. It was why Clay hadn't wanted Apollo to come here. Now that he was here, though, he lost the desire. What was done, was done. There was no point in digging up Kristoph's skeletons. Even if he found anything, it wouldn't help him heal. He took a final look around the room and left, pulling the door shut behind him.
He was sitting on the base of the stairs, pulling on his shoes, when a thought occurred to him. There was a room here that Kristoph was very careful about keeping clean. They'd always called it the music room. Apollo never went in it often, he was just more interested in law and other hobbies, and Kristoph didn't seem to use it much either, but he kept up on the cleanliness of the room. It was where Apollo went now. He walked through the kitchen and pushed open the glass doors. It was also as he remembered it, with the large grand piano and the guitars on stands near the couch. He walked over to the piano and saw that in the weeks since the trial, the dust was clearly beginning to build up. And this, to Apollo, was a perfect task to keep his mind off things.
Apollo went back to the kitchen and grabbed the cleaning supplies. He cleaned mindlessly, blissfully, for some time, finally reaching the guitars. He stopped, noticing something hanging on the wall near them. His mind flashed back, remembering Kristoph occasionally staring at it. It was, inexplicably, a platinum record. It was awarded to a group called The Gavinners, and Apollo wondered about the relationship to Kristoph. He shrugged and wiped it down. He'd look it up someday.
With the room clean, Apollo went over to the piano. He played a scale, sitting down. It wasn't perfect, but it didn't sound horribly out of tune. He thought about his new therapist's suggestion to take up an instrument as a way to heal. He began to play Moonlight Sonata, the only song he really knew how to play from memory. He remembered the time Kristoph had caught him playing it. He'd only been playing for a moment or two when Kristoph had come in, standing in the doorway. Apollo had quickly pulled his hands away, worried Kristoph would freak out. Instead, Kristoph nodded, walking over to stand on the other side of the piano, facing Apollo but looking out the started the tune over, watching Kristoph's far-off expression. When he finished he just sat there, waiting for Kristoph to speak. Finally Kristoph cleared his throat, still seeming like he was a million miles away.
"I didn't know you could play."
"I can really only play the one song."
"...Were you interested in learning how to play the piano?"
"If I was younger, maybe. I don't have the time now, though." Kristoph nodded, understanding. Apollo wasn't sure what to do. Kristoph was acting very strangely.
"He used to play that one all the time, too. One of the first he learned."
"I'm sorry, sir?" Kristoph shook his head, finally seeming to snap back to the present. He started to walk back to the doors.
"Just reminiscing. You're allowed to play, Apollo, if you want."
Apollo saw the ghosts of his younger self and Kristoph as he played the song now. He let out all his negative emotions into the music, keeping tight hold of only the good memories. When he finished, he felt better than he had in weeks. Maybe there was something to using music as therapy, after all.
June 20, 2026
Central Prison
Apollo got off the bus at the State Penitentiary. Visiting hours were about to begin, and he was a little nervous. Clay had asked if Apollo wanted him to come along, but Apollo turned him down. It was better to be here on his own. He was dressed in his usual suit, sleeves pushed up. Enough to cover his scars and not draw any unwanted attention. He slowly walked into the intimidating complex, making his way to the guards at the front desk.
"Who ya here for?"
"Kristoph Gavin." The guard looked at his list, getting to the end with no results. He looked confused for a moment before pulling another, shorter list towards him. He nodded apprehensively.
"Ok, Gavin. He's been denying visitors so far. Only has two names on his approved list. What's your name, kid?"
"Apollo Justice." The guard nodded again.
"Ok, I just need your ID. And if you have your cell phone on you, you'll need to leave that here." Apollo nodded, pulling out both requested items. The guard took both, handing over a visitor's badge. "An officer will lead you to his cell. Gavin has a few certain privileges; you'll be able to enter his cell, if you want..." he trailed off, looking uncertain. Apollo just nodded, however.
"He won't hurt me." Another guard approached, clearly his escort in the prison. He followed him to a section of cells labeled 'Solitary Confinement'. They approached number 13, and Apollo's heart clenched at the sight of Kristoph.
"You have a visitor, Gavin." The guard unlocked the cell, nodding for Apollo to enter. He did, and the guard closed the cell behind him. "I won't be far. Hit that button when you're done, or if he tries something." Apollo nodded. Kristoph is sitting in a plush chair, looking at Apollo with disinterest. Apollo swallowed, leaning against the bars of the cell. He stood there for a minute, trying to figure out what he wanted to say.
"I met your brother recently." No physical reaction, not that Apollo expected one. He wasn't sure Kristoph would answer, but then he saw him take a breath.
"What did you think of him?" Apollo pondered that.
"He's very...interesting. Not at all like you."
"Not a criminal, you mean. Not a murderer?"
"That's not what I meant," Apollo protested. "I meant you're pretty quiet, always calm, grounded, reserved. Klavier seemed...loud, and flashy, outgoing. Not in a bad way. Just, you're very different from each other."
"..."
"How come you never told me you had a brother?" Apollo asked curiously.
"...It just didn't seem to matter. I assumed the two of you would never meet, with Klavier's exhausting tour schedule. It didn't seem important to tell you that I had a brother."
"That makes sense, for you. It's what Clay and I would call Kristoph-logic." Apollo swore he saw the corners of Kristoph's mouth twitch. Kristoph nodded towards the cot in the corner, and Apollo felt the tension in the air leave.
"You may sit, you know." Apollo nodded, taking a seat on the edge. "How is Clay?"
"He's good, they're really amping up his training at the space station. He's hoping to actually get into space if not this year then next year." The feeling that this is weird disappears, and Apollo and Kristoph continued to make casual talk. Apollo is surprised when the guard reappears to tell him he has five more minutes. They sat in quiet as the guard walked back down the hall.
"You can say whatever it is you have to say, you know. About the trial," Kristoph said, breaking the silence. Apollo shifted uncomfortably.
"I'm sorry, Kristoph." Whatever Kristoph was expecting, it wasn't that. He turned back to look at the younger man. The expression on his face is a mixture of guilt and pain. Kristoph is surprised. He expected Apollo to be angry, or to ask him why. This is somehow worse. His heart clenched fiercly at the look on Apollo's face.
"Why are you apologizing?" Kristoph asked, genuinely confused.
"You're in here because of me. You took care of me, and I put you in this cell. I'm sorry." Kristoph stood up, walking over to the bookcase, his back to Apollo.
"Apollo. I put myself here. I committed a crime. I murdered a man, and I was caught. It's no one's fault but my own. Stop blaming yourself."
"..."
"Apollo. I'm not good at this. I don't like to let my emotions take control, whereas you always seem to wear yours on your sleeves," he said, coming to stand in front of Apollo. He never...he wasn't used to talking responsibility for his actions like this, or apologizing, but Apollo clearly needed to hear this. "But I don't want to hear you blaming yourself anymore. I'm here as a result of my actions. I'm...sorry that all of this landed on your shoulders. I ruined everything. Not Phoenix Wright, not Klavier, and certainly not you. I only want you to come back here if you want to, not because you feel like you have to. You don't owe me anything, Apollo. You can make a new life for yourself if you want, and forget you ever knew me. I wouldn't hold it against you if you wanted to do that. You're a man now, Apollo, you can be whoever you want to be, do whatever it is you want to do. Even if it is working with Phoenix Wright."
The guard was approaching again. Clearly, their five minutes was just about up, so Apollo stood. Apollo paused, knowing Kristoph isn't the biggest fan of physical contact. He lightly grabbed Kristoph's arm anyways. "I don't want to forget you, Kristoph. I don't want to forget the life we had. I don't approve of all your life decisions but...I don't want to forget you. I don't think I ever could."
Kristoph hesitated before slowly reaching out and grabbing Apollo's shoulders. He kept his face carefully controlled. All his years of careful planning against Phoenix Wright, they were all about to crumble here and now, because of this one boy. There were things Kristoph Gavin would never admit out loud, one of which was his delicate grasp on sanity. This boy was the one thread, his one connection, that kept him sane. The time between his arrest and this day was...confusing. He had started losing pieces of himself. There was a part of him that knew that his vendetta against Phoenix Wright was illogical, even wrong, but that part was getting swallowed. Being alone all day, everyday, wasn't doing his mental state any favors. Now, standing next to Apollo, he was conflicted. For once in his life, Kristoph Gavin realized he was feeling regret.
He pushed that aside, though. Apollo's time to leave had come, and he would certainly never come back if he knew the extent of Kristoph's psychosis, the plans he'd laid down. He blinked and Apollo was walking towards the door of the cell.
"Apollo." Apollo turned, looking at him questioningly. It was hard to swallow his pride and ask, but he had to know if he should cling to this part of himself, his sanity, or pitch himself off a mental cliff. "Will you visit again?" To his relief, Apollo smiled.
"Every Saturday."
July 3, 2026
Wright Anything Agency
"It's not just cleaning you do, is it?" Phoenix Wright asked Apollo some weeks later on a Friday at the office. Apollo looked at him questioningly. "On Saturdays. Whenever we invite you out, you come after you clean the music room. But that's not all you do, is it?" Apollo looked away.
"I don't know what you mean."
"I think you do. I don't think it's a coincidence that the State Penitentiary has visiting hours on Saturdays from 9-12." He could see Apollo swallow hard. Apollo took a seat on the newly cleaned couch.
"You're right. I visit Kristoph on Saturdays." Phoenix slowly crossed the room, sitting down next to Apollo.
"You know, you could have told me. I'm not going to fly off the handle." Apollo looked at him, confused.
"Why not? Kristoph tried to pin a murder on you. There's no excuse for what he did. You have every right as my employer to tell me I shouldn't be visiting him."
"No, Apollo, I don't. First of all, you visit him on Saturdays when you're off work. I can't tell you what you can and can't do off the clock. Even if I could, I wouldn't. For a while, I considered Kristoph my friend. But he was more to you, wasn't he?" He saw the surprise register in Apollo's face. "Your friend Clay reached out before you started working here."
"It makes sense now why he pushed me to work here."
"All I'm trying to say, Apollo, is you don't have to hide things from me, or feel the need to explain yourself. Just...be careful."
"..."
"Now, I expect to see you tomorrow afternoon." Apollo grinned, getting up and heading towards the door.
"Of course. Trucy would kill me if I missed it. See you tomorrow, Mr. Wright." Apollo pulled the door closed behind him. Phoenix leaned back and covered his face with his hands, sighing. Clay made it sound like Apollo had suffered immensly from Kristoph's incarceration. What would happen if his investigation revealed the extent of Kristoph Gavin's madness?
July 11, 2026
Central Prison
"Your brother dragged me to one of his concerts," Apollo relayed to Kristoph during one of his visits. His face scrunched up. "Not really my type of music." Kristoph laughed genuinely at that.
"I can imagine. Klavier is quite talented in all forms of music, but I know that band of his is a lot of loud rock music. You've never been one for that scene. How on earth did he manage to drag you there?"
"Trucy's a big fan, apparently, and Klavier wanted to impress her, I think."
"Impress her, or impress you?" Kristoph muttered. Apollo didn't hear whatever he said.
"What?"
"Nothing. How did the concert go? I know my brother can be quite the perfectionist."
"Well...there was an incident during one of the sets. One of the band members murdered an Interpol agent. Klavier and I took the case." Kristoph stood up suddenly.
"Who was it?" he demanded.
"One of the guitarists, Crescend."
"Daryan Crescend," Kristoph breathed. This wasn't good. His calm and collected manner dropped as he rushed over to Apollo.
"Bring him to me," he begged. Apollo was confused.
"Bring Crescend?"
"No. Bring Klavier here, please. Tell him I need to see him. Don't accept no for an answer." He turned and hit the button on the wall of the cell, signalling the visit was over. The guard approached, looking confused; Apollo was usually the last to leave. "Don't come back until I've seen Klavier."
"Ok, Kristoph. I'll get Klavier," Apollo assured him, concerned about Kristoph's sudden change in demeanor. He stood up and exited the cell once the guard opened it. He looked back at Kristoph one more time before following the guard to the exit.
"Kristoph wants to see you," Apollo told Klavier later that day. They were in People Park, on an isolated bench. Klavier looked over at Apollo, surprised.
"When did you talk to Kristoph?"
"I go see him every Saturday."
"...You don't owe him anything, Apollo. You don't have to torture yourself like this."
"I go because I want to go, Klavier. I know that I don't owe him any favors. I know that I will never fully understand him. But he is the closest thing I've had to family here. No matter what he's done, I still care about him. And I know you do, too."
"...Maybe you can so easily forgive him, Apollo, but I can't. No, I won't go see him." He notices an odd, desperate expression on Apollo's face. "What?"
"He told me not to come back until after he's talked to you." Klavier stood up, cursing in German. It's just like his brother to play both of their emotions like this. He must know Apollo would be upset if he's not able to visit, and he must know Klavier doesn't want Apollo to be upset. He crossed his arms.
"Why does he want to see me, anyways?"
"We were talking about your concert, and the...incident came up. Then it was like his whole demeanor changed. He looked...desperate to see you." Klavier exhaled, understanding now. Kristoph had heard about Daryan's arrest...was he actually concerned about Klavier, or was it just an act to get him out to the prison? He nodded, sitting back down.
"Ok, Apollo. For you. I will go see Kristoph, but only for you. Not for him." Apollo nodded, sighing in relief. "Does Herr Wright know where you go on Saturdays?"
"He does."
"And he's fine with it?"
"Look, I'd be lying if I said he was absolutely thrilled. But yes, he's fine with it. He just asked I don't mention it to Trucy." They're quiet again, both thinking.
"So I was thinking," Klavier began, breaking the silence, wanting to break the tension. "Do you know any musical instruments?" Apollo turned to look at him, confusion on his face.
"What?"
"Can you play a musical instrument? We're going to need a new second guitarist, ja? You're already in law enforcement, so if you can play, you're in," he said, winking. He laughed when Apollo's face flushed.
"Klavier, I'm not joining your band!" Klavier was still laughing, holding onto Apollo's shoulder for support, when Clay came jogging up.
"What did I miss?" he asked. Apollo seemed at a loss for words, so Klavier jumped in.
"Apollo has agreed to be the new fifth member of the Gavinners," he said seriously. Apollo began to sputter in frustration.
"I did not! I can't even play an instrument!"
"Actually, you can play piano, can't you?" Clay chimed in. Klavier's face lit up and Apollo groaned.
"See, Herr Forehead, we can switch Enrich to second guitar and you can take keyboard!" Apollo's face was now as red as his suit.
"I can only play Moonlight Sonata! I can't play a keyboard!"
"First movement or third?"
"It's—gah! Why am I even explaining myself to you people? I can play the first movement, that's it!"
"Hmm...I think we could work with that. Enrich is a good teacher. Unless you want me to teach you? I'm quite proficient with all instruments," he teased, winking. Clay laughed; it looked like Apollo's head was about to explode.
"Come on, Apollo, you can't turn down joining Klavier Gavin's band! They have a platinum record!" Apollo finally jumped up.
"Well, why don't you join, Clay?" he asked, exasperated. Clay turned to Klavier with fake excitement.
"Actually—"
"Nein," Klavier cut in. "Sorry, Clay, but you must be in law enforcement to be in the band, and you're an astronaut. Although, playing a concert in space would be pretty cool," he mused. Apollo stepped forward, fumbling with something on his vest. Klavier couldn't tell what was happening until Apollo slapped Clay on the chest and stepped backwards.
He'd put his attorney's badge on Clay. "There! He's a lawyer now! You guys can have each other now!"
"Herr Forehead, that's not how it works," Klavier said seriously, shaking his head. "Clay hasn't sat for the bar yet."
"It's fine, we've had 'lawyers' use cardboard badges and get away with it, and judges that can't tell when a prosecutor is play acting as a defense lawyer. He'll probably make the best defense attorney this city's ever seen." With that, none of them could hold it together anymore. Apollo collapsed back on the bench, he and Klavier leaning on each other for support as they laughed to the point of tears. Clay clung to the back of the bench, laughing, glancing at Apollo out of the corner of his eye. What was really making Clay smile was seeing his friend genuinely happy and laughing again. He flashed back to Apollo standing in his bathroom, his body littered in scars, and his pain written on his face. He shook the image out of his head, replacing it with this one in front of him. He noticed other things, too. He noticed Klavier's hands gripping Apollo's arms when Apollo usually didn't like to be touched. He noticed the way Klavier spoke around Apollo, and the way Apollo spoke about Klavier when he wasn't around. Mostly, he noticed how much happier Apollo seemed being around Klavier, but also around Trucy as well. He noticed Apollo had finally found his family, and maybe something more. But, knowing Apollo, he wouldn't notice these things for himself for quite a while. Clay groaned internally. Klavier had his work cut out for him. But Clay couldn't wait to see what happened between them. He moved to the side of the bench, smacking Apollo's arm.
"Let's get a move on. We're gonna be late to the new Avengers movie! We told Phoenix and Trucy we'd be there five minutes ago!" Apollo and Klavier regained control of themselves, standing up. Klavier sped up to catch up with Clay, and they began chatting excitedly about their theories for the movie. Apollo followed them at a slower pace, watching them. For the first time in a long while, he couldn't help but to think that everything was going to be ok.
A/N: I'm not sure that I'm 100% satisfied with this story. It felt so easy to write but when it came time to post I began to second guess everything lol. I hope that it doesn't jump around too much or too confusingly, and I hope that Apollo or any of the other characters don't seem too OOC. Yes, I did take a few liberties with Apollo and Kristoph. The scene where they're first talking in prison was the hardest for me to write. The way I view Kristoph is he has some serious mental problems, yes. Maybe a psychotic break? But I don't believe him to be a sociopath, in my mind he at some point genuinely cared about Apollo and Klavier, and at some point in the game his grip on reality snapped. The game never satisfactorily explained why Kristoph held such a vendetta against Phoenix and Zak. To me, he was mentally ill and Zak firing him triggered something in him to snap. So if his thought pattern seemed confusing or out of place, that's why. I also don't think it's too much of a leap to assume Apollo could suffer from depression. He never knew his mother, his father died when he was very little, Dhurke sent him back to America to live on his own when he was still young, and (in my version) Kristoph betrayed and abandoned him as well. I tried to move the cutting off-screen after the first few instances; it was a big part of the story but the main plot is Apollo healing and moving on after Kristoph's (initial) incarceration. I will probably be doing a follow-up with what happened after Turnabout Succession, and potentially after Clay's death, but I'm not sure yet so I'm posting this as completed for now. Speaking of, sorry for the cruel ending. It seems happy until you remember Kristoph hasn't murdered Drew Misham yet, and Clay dies about a year later.
Up next in Quarantine 2020, I will be finishing the last chapter to Gone Forever. I only have a vague idea about it, but not much more needs to be said so it shouldn't be that long and shouldn't take me that long. Let me know what you think of this one. Hopefully you're all safe and happy on this the 236th day of March.
Until next time,
Shayla