1. Of Quarrels & Snackoos

Ema was releasing all her pent up frustration on her poor underlings because chomping on Snackoos wasn’t doing the trick. She was snapping orders at everyone, trying to get security perfect for a concert she didn’t want to be at. For one, it was all too noisy with all the roof-raising rock music and the screaming girls. For another…

“Ah, Fräulein!”

She groaned inwardly as she turned to face the baby blue-eyed and ridiculously-haired nuisance. He flashed a smile at her and she glared in response as he sauntered up to her, a thumb hitched in his pants.

“Here you are.”

“Scientifically speaking, yes I am.” Ema scowled. “Psychologically speaking, I’m somewhere else.”

“Achtung! You are in a fouler mood than usual. Might I enquire as to the occasion?”

Ema simply popped a Snackoo in her mouth and glowered at him. Klavier, however, chuckled in amusement and her munching speed increased as she fought to control the urge to Snackoo him. Glimmerous fop or not, he was still her boss. Sometimes though, the desire to give him a good Snackoo thrashing was too strong and the fact that she couldn’t do it only served to infuriate her further. She tried to look on the bright side — if she had been allowed to attack him, she would probably never eat another Snackoo again. However, the thought of the ground around his humongous feet littered with her precious snacks did little to alleviate her temper.

“Fräulein?” Her eyes narrowed at the amusement glittering in his eyes.

“What do you want?” she snapped.

“I would like to see a smile on your face, mein liebe.”

“Can’t do it,” Ema said shortly, frowning instead. Then a devilish thought occurred to her and the corner of her mouth twitched. “In compensation, I can call you a cab at the end of your concert.”

Klavier’s smile vanished instantly as a small frown creased his forehead at the memory of his morning. Ema had caught him trying to sneak out of a cab when she arrived at the stadium. He had flushed slightly when he’d seen her smirking at him and when she casually asked after his ‘hog’ he’d defended himself vehemently, claiming he couldn’t find his keys and insisting she not mention it to anyone else. Of course, that didn’t mean she couldn’t mention it to him.

“The security in the backstage hallway is inadequate,” he said abruptly, all business-like all of a sudden. “There are too many fans finding their way in there.”

“Fine,” Ema snapped stuffing her Snackoos in her bag before marching off without looking back. Thankfully, it seemed like that last comment had the fop on his best behaviour… for now at least.

Ema shook her head to clear her head. Talking with him always made her feel like spiders had invaded her mind and spun a thousand webs; her every thought seemed to get caught up in another until nothing made sense. Obviously it was because he was so irritating that her blood pressure hit the sky and therefore made it impossible for her to concentrate on anything but the annoyance. Not only was he immature and glimmerous, he was also condescending and bossy. If she were a forensics expert, he wouldn’t talk to her the way he did. She cursed her luck — not only did she fail the stupid exam but, as a result, was stuck with him for a boss. Ridiculous. Whoever heard of a prosecutor who was rock star? It was absurd. To top it off, he had that ridiculous hairdo and all those rings and that stupid chain he wore around his neck… He was more rock star than prosecutor and he had the cheek to claim the latter was his real passion.

Ema snorted. Prosecutor Gavin. What a silly title. He should stick to singing and leave prosecuting to the likes of Mr Edgeworth, Ema thought, practically swooning at the thought of the dashing prosecutor. Now there was a man she could get on board with! That chiselled face, those intense eyes and that silver hair… a small shiver ran down her spine. Of course, looks aside, Mr Edgeworth was a genius — he was smart, cool (in a way Klavier could never be) and he emanated power. When she had decided to join law enforcement, she had comforted herself with the thought that she would be seeing Mr Edgeworth practically every day. Until she came face to face with Gavin… or rather, face to chain. Ema scowled as she remembered the first day she had met him; of course, with her luck, she had ended up colliding with him as the stupid chain around his neck bumped painfully against her forehead and he had asked her if she was alright (while barely containing his amused smile). Ever since then, all she wanted to do was take that damn ‘pendant’ and strangle him with it. Someday, she would. She knew she would get arrested but as long as he wasn’t around to be at the Prosecution's bench…

“Ohmigod, look he’s coming this way!!”

Ema snapped out of her fantasies to see that she had reached the backstage hallway and it was crowded with several teenage girls outside the Gavinners dressing room, all of whom were now staring over her shoulder.

“What are you all doing here?” Ema demanded stopping before them but they ignored her, growing more and more excited, pointing past her. She clutched her bag tight to stop herself from throwing something at them. Instead, she raised her voice, “I said—”

“Ladies, please do not ignore the good Fräulein here. It is detrimental to her health.” His smooth voice cut across hers and the girls went wild as he stopped by her side playing with a lock of his hair. “The show begins in a half hour. You do not want all the best spots to be taken, ja?”

The girls all spluttered over one another in their hurry to agree and stumbled out of the hallway. Klavier watched them with a smirk on his face before he turned to Ema who had taken out her bag of favourite snacks and was chomping on them fiercely once more. He reached out for one but she snatched it away staring at him, shocked.

“What do you think you’re doing?!”

“I wish to try one, Fräulein,” Klavier said casually, reaching out again and this time Ema smacked his hand away, fire blazing in her eyes.

“Get your own!”

Klavier chuckled. “Come, Fräulein Skye. Do not be so ungracious.”

“Ungrac— ” Ema put her hands on her hips and glared into his face. “I am providing security for this awful concert— ”

“For which you are getting paid,” he interrupted.

“Oh heavens!” she exclaimed in mock shock, slapping a hand to her face. “You mean that generous offer you made earlier? 10% extra to my wage this month?! I’m practically drooling.” She looked away moodily, pouting.

“Fräulein, I had no idea you were so money-orientated,” Klavier said leaning forward.

Ema jumped back while flushing and spluttering. “What do you — that’s not what I — it’s because you said I should be graci — OH!”

Ka-tonk!

Ema stared in something akin to horror as Klavier plucked out the Snackoo now lodged in his lapel and held it up for his inspection before turning his, now serious, gaze on her.

“Fräulein Detective…” he said in a calm voice. “I do believe…”

“Er… Hmph.” Ema tried to maintain some dignity in her horror. She had just Snackoo’ed her boss! Why?! Why did she…… Wait, wait, why was that Snackoo heading for his mouth!?

“… You gave me a Snack-ooooof!”

Ema had snatched at the snack in his hand and as a result thrown him off balance; he was pushed backwards against a wall and she was clinging onto his arms in a bid to stop herself from falling. She cursed at the floor. The little bite of heaven she had been trying to retrieve had fallen to the ground. She raised her gaze to pierce him with her killer look. He was a fop — no, he was a glimmerous fop. Now was a good time to grab that chain and choke the life out of him. He was a…

At that moment, her eyes met his and she lost her train of thought. It was as though her every sense was heightened. His hands were on her arms steadying her, strong but gentle and even through the fabric she could feel the heat. His breath was warm against her face, disturbing her fringe, causing her hair to tickle her forehead. Up close, she could see that his skin was really as flawless and golden as it appeared from afar and the shadows on his cheek bones enhanced his already chiselled features and his eyes… she felt like she was sinking into the ocean, the pressure pushing her down, taking away any hope of her resurfacing again…

“If you wished for an intimate interlude, this Snackoo farce was quite unnecessary, Fräulein. All you had to do was ask,” Klavier murmured sweeping her face with his eyes.

And just like that, the madness ended.

Her eyes widened in shock as she pulled herself free and stepped away from him, speechless. She felt the heat rise to her face and her temper with it.

“You arrogant fop,” she snapped. “You talk to much.”

He straightened up, chuckling while dusting himself off and the sight of him brushing his clothes as though he’d gotten dirt on them infuriated Ema. She turned to march off, to get away from him... she needed to put as much distance between them as she could.

“Ein moment, Fräulein.”

She stopped but didn’t turn around. She didn’t think she could face him again. Just hearing him approach her was making her heart race. What was wrong with her?

“I wish to a— ”

What he wished, Ema never got to find out; another voice interrupted him.

“Mr Gavin,” the voice was soft and melodic and Ema glanced over her shoulder to see Lamiroir stepping out into the hallway tentatively. “Is everything alright? I heard raised voices.”

“Everything is in order, Lamiroir,” he replied, inclining his head. “There were some fans.”

“I see.” Ema was watching Lamiroir now and she was annoyed to see that the woman was staring at Klavier intensely. Ema was even more annoyed at the fact that this annoyed her. “Well Mr Gavin, I wish you luck with your performance.”

“I never accept luck from anyone as I have no need of it but from the Siren of the Ballad, I shall graciously accept. I look forward to our performance tonight.”

Klavier flashed a smile at the elder woman and, taking her hand, lifted it to his lips. Ema scowled at his blatant flattery. Player, Ema thought. Lamiroir nodded and, without once acknowledging Ema, retreated to her dressing room and closed the door. Klavier turned his gaze on Ema who rolled her eyes and he chuckled.

“There is something you wish to say, ja?”

“Break a leg.” Ema sniffed turning away. “And I don’t mean that in a nice way,” she added before stomping off.

Klavier Gavin was not a happy man.

It was one embarrassment after another. First, he had to take cab to the concert. Then he had to break into his own guitar case like some common thief. Then, there was that — he closed his eyes in protest at the memory — stumble he’d taken when his guitar caught fire. In front of thousands of people no less. Not cool at all. Then Daryan had messed up their performance with his average playing. To top it off, someone was dead in accordance with the wishes of a lunatic who harboured a fondness for the dramatic. Klavier practically groaned as he recalled the unpleasant fact Trucy Wright had brought to light. Frankly, if he had known it would come back to haunt him, he would never have given her the signed lyrics sheet that was now making life so difficult for him.

He was lounging in his chair staring out the glass wall not really seeing the building lights in the dark. His guitar was resting in his lap, his fingers simply roving up and down the strings while his mind whirred, trying to make sense of the complexities of the day. A manager dead, no known enemies, with the possibility this was his first visit to the country and therefore leading to one conclusion- it was either Lamiroir or Machi Tobaye. However, given the layout of the crime scene and circumstances, logically, it could only have been Machi - it was impossible for Lamiroir to have had a hand in it.

Unease expanded in his stomach. Could a 14 year old really best a giant like LeTouse? Was it really possible for a child to shoot at a grown man - twice - and walk away? And what was the motive? Klavier didn’t know. He had spent the last hour trying to find the pieces, putting them in different places but the picture never got any clearer. It was as though he was missing the edges of a jigsaw puzzle, unable to determine from where he should begin. The Borginian Embassy were taking their sweet time in getting back to them about the victim — time Klavier didn’t have.

“Ach!” He set his guitar on his desk, frustratedly rubbing his eyes. He was so tired. His invitation of Lamiroir and Machi had gone all wrong; they were all caught up in a murder trial that didn’t make any sense. How could a child kill his own manager?

“What you gettin’ into a funk about this time, Gavin?” a voice drawled and he looked up to see Daryan sauntering into his office.

“Daryan.” He turned his chair to face him. “What do you have for me?”

Daryan, however, didn’t seem interested — he was examining his surroundings; from the papers on the ground to the charred guitar on the table before turning to Klavier with a smirk. “Man, for a perfectionist your office sure is a mess.”

“Let’s finish one case before getting onto another, ja?” Klavier said, irritated. “What did you find out about the victim?”

“It's as we thought. He never came to this country before,” Daryan answered running his fingers over the remains of Klaviers guitar before focusing on him. “He hasn’t had the chance to make any enemies here. Kid’s the only one who coulda wasted him.”

Klavier slumped in his chair looking as defeated as he felt. “But a 14 year old boy kill someone?” He shook his head disbelievingly.

“It wouldn’t be the first time, man.” Daryan shrugged leaning against the desk. “Who knows what drove him to it?”

“It was a .45 calibre pistol!” Klavier snapped. “That would cause a grown man severe damage!”

“Here he goes again,” Daryan muttered under his breath before straightening up and piercing Klavier with a sharp stare. “Listen man, there were only two candidates — the diva and piano-boy. We’ve already established she couldn’t fit into that vent so it has to be him! It doesn’t matter how old he is. He ain’t the first kid to commit murder and he ain’t gonna be the last.”

Klavier nodded, an unpleasant taste in his mouth because he couldn’t deny the facts of the situation and he had no argument for Daryan’s logic. So, he steeled himself and nodded once more, reminding himself that it was his duty to ensure criminals were brought to justice. His mouth set in a downward pout, he turned to look out of the window again, focusing on the lights of the buildings around him. Some were work lights but most were lights of apartment buildings and he wished one of those were his and he was turning in for the night. But sleep was out of the question with this case hanging over him.

“What you gonna do with this lump of crap, Gavin?” Daryan said and Klavier looked up to see him eyeing the burnt guitar again.

“I’m having someone inspect it,” Klavier said walking up to the small table with the instrument on it and joining Daryan in his examination of it. “I want to know why it caught fire.”

“You want me to take it over for ya?” Daryan offered but Klavier shook his head.

“I’ve already asked Fräulein Skye to do it.”

“That mad scientist chick?” Klavier frowned but didn’t say anything, choosing instead to nod. “Man, she's hot. Moody but hot.”

“That’s Fräulein Detective for you,” Klavier said with a tiny smile as he remembered her trademark behaviour — munching Snackoos. He didn’t know for sure why but every time he pictured her it was always with a bag of those strange snacks she never shared with anyone. Perhaps it was the way her lips moved when she munched on them, Klavier thought. Although, after the murder she had snacked very little and Klavier’s smile disappeared as he remembered her ashen face. He knew she blamed herself to some extent for the events that had transpired as she had been on security. Of course, it was absurd for her to feel guilty — if anything, Klavier was glad she had only found the body once the murderer had escaped. When he heard she had run into the dressing room upon hearing the gunshots, namely the crime scene, he had felt horrified imagining all the ways she could have got hurt. It was an indication of her bravery and he admired her for it.

Klavier was growing increasingly fond of the detective. Even though she never smiled (unless smirking counted), was always snappy, never shared her Snackoos and always gave him a glare that told him she was not happy to see him, Klavier thought Ema Skye was the most endearing woman he had ever met. Perhaps it was the way her eyes sparkled at some new discovery or the adoringly childish tantrums she threw when something didn't go the way she wanted it to — he didn’t know and, really, he didn’t care. He just knew that teasing her was a favourite pastime of his and he liked the time he spent with her.

And then, there was that little… moment they had shared that morning in the hallway; he had experienced her in a whole other way — her body was surprisingly soft. Not that he had ever thought about what it would be like but he supposed given her hard behaviour that… well, he hadn't expected her body to be that soft. She had felt so petite in his arms and had she not pulled back when she did, Klavier was sure he would have hugged her. In that proximity, he had noticed many details about her — the scent of citron, the extraordinary length of her lashes and her bow shaped lips... Lips he’d never seen in their entirety until then because they were always in a scowl or a pout. She seemed so… pure. It was like a breath of fresh air.

“Hello, little lady,” Daryan drawled and Klavier spun to find the protagonist of his thoughts standing in the doorway. Her usual scowl-slash-pout was nowhere to be seen. Instead, she looked tired and reserved.

She looked at Daryan blankly before turning to Klavier who was walking to her.

“Where’s the guitar?” she asked bluntly and Klavier fought back a smile. He turned and gestured towards the table Daryan stood by. As both musicians watched, she walked over to it pulling out a bag in which she gingerly placed the instrument before wrapping it up briskly but gently. Before she could march off, however, Klavier stopped her as a thought suddenly occurred to him.

“One moment, Fräulein Detective.” She turned to look at him. “I wish to hear your opinion on something.”

“What?”

“Why do you think Machi, assuming he is the murderer,” (Daryan snorted) “committed the crime as described by the lyrics?”

Klavier waited patiently as Ema looked to the side while fingering her hair in the manner she always did when she was in thought. After a moment she shrugged.

“I couldn’t even begin to guess.”

“It cannot be a mere coincidence, ja?” Klavier continued. “Everything happened exactly as it was written.”

“Not exactly,” Daryan contradicted and they both looked at him. “There’s one thing missing.”

“What’s that?” Ema demanded and he turned to her with a smirk.

“Pleasure.” Klavier frowned as Daryan winked at Ema, grinning at her devilishly. “In the second verse; ‘pleasure, pleasure’ or something wasn’t it? Guess its ‘cos the kid dunno about things like that, eh?”

“Daryan, I hardly think this is the time for such comments,” Klavier snapped.

Daryan scowled at him. “You can be such a stick in the mud, Gavin.” He waved a hand dismissively. “Whatever. I’m off. Catch you funks later.”

Klavier watched as Daryan flashed a smile at Ema before sauntering off in the same manner he’d come in. She was looking at Daryan’s retreating back with a scowl and he chuckled. “Do not mind him, Fräulein. He is a bit of a rogue.”

“Hmph.” She frowned. “He’s fop too.”

Klavier’s mouth twitched. “Here I thought I was special Fräulein Detective. I am quite put out.”

“Well, you’re not.” She shook her head and turned to follow Daryan but Klavier stopped her again. “What now?” she complained.

“Are you alright?” he was concerned at the eyebags that seemed to have developed under her eyes in an alarmingly short amount of time.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” she snapped.

“You must not feel guilty, Fräulein.” Klavier said gently and she looked away again. “It was not your fault. It was Machi who—”

“Was it though?” Ema interrupted and he looked at her in surprise. “How can a blind child randomly kill his manager who, by the way, is twice as big as him?”

“I do not know, Fräulein.” Klavier sighed pausing for a moment. “For what it’s worth, I have my doubts too.”

“Then why are you prosecuting him?”

“Fräulein,” Klavier said taken aback at the vehemence in her voice. “You, yourself, told me the circumstances. I have no—”

“Yeah and tomorrow I have to pretend I believe it and testify against him.” Ema’s eyes were ablaze now. “And I hate it. I know that he didn’t do it!”

“How can you know something like that?” Klavier demanded, feeling defensive now.

“Because I’ve been in his position and I wasn’t guilty!” Ema blurted out and Klavier’s retort died on his lips as he stared at her, aghast. Ema, realising what she had just said, clamped a hand over her mouth as her eyes widened in horror.

“You—”

“I have to go,” she said, hurriedly snatching up his guitar, and rushed out of his office before Klavier could get another word out. He stared at the empty doorway for several minutes in shock at what she had said. What had she meant? Ema had been a suspect in a murder trial? How could he not know something like this? And as the full implication of her outburst hit him, he felt the unease inside him turn into outright guilt and uncertainty.

Tomorrow was going to be tougher than he thought.

3. Dishonesty Abounds

“…Very good Fräulein,” Klavier said, smiling at Ema who was getting uncomfortable on the witness stand. “Perhaps you can tie it all together for us. Why was the body moved? And how does that lead us to the killer?”

Ema glowered at the implication behind his words but she kept quiet knowing full well that the courtroom was no place to start bickering with him. So instead, she took a deep breath and, with a sick feeling in her stomach, she began her testimony.

“I believe Machi stole the body because of some lyrics. He moved the body to match Lamiroir’s song.”

“Hold it!” Apollo shouted and Ema almost sighed in relief at the interruption. She wanted him to find a contradiction in her testimony. “What reason could he have?”

Ema’s heart sank and her temper rose at the stupidity of his question. “You want my opinion? No idea!” she snapped turning to glare at Klavier for including this stupid, mind-boggling detail in the trial only to find him staring back at her with a smile and… was that a warning in his eyes? Her insides boiling and, making a mental note to yank his pretty hair out, Ema turned her gaze back to Apollo.

“But clearly he had a reason to go through all that trouble. Some deep reason.”

“Not only did he steal my keys, he torched my guitar! Unforgivable acts even if he had a reason…” Klavier said suddenly and Ema was amused (yes, amused) to find his face devoid of his usual smile and replaced with a look of desperation and horror. “...And worse if he had none!”

Ema sniggered to herself which (thankfully) went unnoticed. “The diva’s complaints aside,” she continued, “I can't imagine someone doing this on ‘just a whim’.”

Hint hint, she said with her eyes but the prosecutor was far too preoccupied looking distressed and indignant again to notice it.

“Fräulein Detective! I take offense at that description!”

The crowd, too, seemed to find this comment interesting as they all began to chatter among themselves until the Judge banged the crowd-silencing gravel.

“Indeed,” he said once the crowd quietened, “it does seem too well rehearsed, shall we say.”

“Yes,” Ema agreed. “This crime was planned for sure. No one in this country had a motive to kill the victim.”

“Hold it!” Apollo interrupted once more but this time Ema wasn’t as hopeful for any type of useful contradiction. The Wright kid didn’t do any justice to his mentor. “But… Mr LeTouse spoke English! He may have come to this country before!”

Ema smirked, pleased with her powers of prediction. She shot a smile his way saying, “I looked into that, I assure you.”

“Oh.”

“It was his first time in the country, it seems. Apparently he learned English on his own.”

“You see?” Klavier interjected while Apollo’s face fell. “No one here had a motive to kill him and certainly not in such an elaborate fashion.”

“Hmm…” The Judge was looking pensive. “It does seem difficult to imagine.”

Ema’s insides were twisting uncomfortably at the route this cross examination had taken. Apollo was being useless and Klavier was being almost ruthless. In an uncharacteristic show of cheekiness, Ema interrupted to give Apollo more time to think of something.

“Unless our famous prosecutor did it as a publicity stunt.”

Klavier was so taken aback by the sudden comment that he seemed to collapse against the desk, a look of intense disbelief on his face as he stammered, “Wh-What did you say?!!”

“Prosecutor Gavin!” the Judge exclaimed over the chatter of the audience as Ema watched on in amusement. The entertainment value was great! “You did this to promote your song!??”

It was all Ema could do to stop herself from giggling outright at the shock that seemed to have overtaken the fop. He’s not so glimmerous now, is he? Behind him, in the audience, Ema could see Daryan grinning openly and he winked at her, almost as if in approval of her teasing. Ema considered sticking her tongue out at him but Klavier spoke up again and she had to preserve her energy to remain somewhat controlled in the courtroom.

“Of course not, and I am quite dismayed by the ludicrous nature of her claim.” he retorted, clicking his fingers. “Why would I need promotion? Everyone already listens to my music!”

She barely managed to stifle the laughter bubbling in her. It appeared the good prosecutor didn’t find the murder accusation itself ludicrous – rather, he was upset at the claim that his music needed promotion. Ema looked around the courtroom to see what reaction this had gleaned from the audience; the Judge was looking pensive again (or maybe wondering if he should point out he had never listened to the Gavinners); Trucy seemed to be telling Apollo the Gavinners were in textbooks while Apollo joined the Judge in his worry and the rest of the audience seemed to be chattering again.

“I was just kidding!” Ema said shooting the prosecutor an I-got-you-good smile. “Don’t get all worked up, glimmer-boy.”

She couldn’t be sure but she thought she saw something like annoyance flash in his eyes. Paying no heed to it, she continued with her testimony (which was always interrupted by the inexperienced defense). Throughout it, Klavier seemed to avoid talking to her directly and she wondered if he were truly annoyed with her jokes. Well, she thought with a sniff, now he knows what its like to be on the receiving end. Ema’s suspicions about the fop (in her mind it was now almost a swear) were confirmed when he humiliated her publicly by displaying her incompetence at doing her job; she watched furiously as he laughingly apologised for not telling her about Machi’s blindness simply because it was too much of a hassle to bother her! Well she’d show him…

“I’m not leaving!” she snapped glaring at the prosecutor wishing she could murder with a glance. She was through pretending she believed Machi was the killer. In fact, she was through helping the prosecution with its ridiculous case – screw the consequences. She didn’t care if she lost her job. “I can’t leave like this! I’ll come up with some clue to solving this case if it kills me!”

“But your testimony has already given us enough to convict the defendant…” said the Judge, blinking at her sudden outburst while Apollo looked like he was going to faint from the stress of trying to prevent a guilty verdict. Ema, however, was not really paying attention to either and, after a short while of scanning through the mental inventory of the clues she had found, a lightbulb seemed to flicker in her mind.

“Ah!” she exclaimed, “Ah ha!”

Everyone stared at her waiting for a response but she just glowed triumphantly, pleased with herself. It was Apollo who asked the question on everyone’s mind:

“Aha what?”

“This blood stain…” she said slowly for a more dramatic effect. “The criminal tried to wipe it off, right?”

Klavier was now staring at her, both interested and somewhat suspicious of this new turn in her testimony. She would have liked him to lose his composure just one more time for fun but she knew him too well – he wouldn’t show his alarm that easily. He had a ‘cool’ image to maintain… although, what was so cool about teen-angst rockers befuddled her. She shook her head in a bid to focus on the task at hand; so she talked Apollo through the process and once Daryan was assigned to delve into the mystery of the code she had uncovered (Apollo had only done the dirty work), she walked away from the witness stand with dignity. Assuming her place in the audience once more, she watched the cross examination of Lamiroir with a sort of fascinated interest. Looking at the singer, it was difficult to believe she was blind; she didn’t possess the far-away look the blind usually did and Ema was comforted by the thought that even the drill-haired idiot had not realised Lamiroir was could not see until he received the report telling him so.

Suddenly, a commotion broke her out of her reverie. Lamiroir was still on the witness stand but now Daryan had reappeared with what Ema supposed was the result of his inquiry into the number. But… why did he look so out of sorts? She turned to the young officer sat next to her.

“What’s happened?” she demanded. “Whose Interpol number was it?”

“It’s LeTouse’s,” the young man replied but the shock on his face was a little too extreme for the revelation. “And…” he added, gulping and Ema glared at him impatiently. “Lamiroir has just named Detective Crescend as the man whose voice she heard arguing with LeTouse.”

“What?!” she yelped rounding on the scene before her. Klavier had lost all composure and was now clutching his ears as if what he heard was burning him. “You mean…?”

“Yeah,” the officer said grimly his eyes fixed on the scene. “She’s fingering him as the criminal.”

Lamiroir was looking nervous but certain and Daryan was visibly reeling from the outburst. Apollo was glaring at Daryan as if working through things in his mind and the Judge simply looked gobsmacked and confused. Ema herself was astonished. Daryan Crescend? The killer? Could it be?

Then her thoughts took a darker turn as she remembered her own experience as a teenager. Authority figures were not always honest and power was often abused. Ema Skye knew that better than anyone. Hadn’t she seen her share of it with Gant and his twisted games? And she recalled the von Karma scandal – Miles Edgeworth was also a victim to someone who’d pushed the limits of sanity, driven by a lust for perfection which, to Ema, was another form of power. She had seen enough in her early years to realise that the people one was meant to trust could not, in fact, always be trusted. It was a sad fact but it was a fact nonetheless. The tableau before her was a perfect example.

For some reason, however, Ema’s concern was shifting to the prosecutor. He had regained some composure but the confusion and trepidation in his eyes was visible even from where she was sat. However, nobody else seemed to notice this; the court was rife with loud chatter, gasps and accusatory glares and the banging of the Judge’s gravel which went unnoticed by the crowds. Among the chaos, Ema’s eyes remained fixed on the rock-star for whom she felt an overwhelming sense of sympathy… and dread.



Ema heard raised voices as she approached Klavier’s office and she stopped. It sounded as though he was arguing with someone and she edged a little closer to the door which was not quite shut in order to determine who the other person was.

“I ain’t dirty.” If the voice isn't enough to figure it out, the language sure does the trick, Ema thought. It was Daryan. “What do you think I am, a chowderhead?”

“Daryan,” Klavier sounded drained – an uncharacteristic emotion for the man. “I know you didn’t do it.” Ema frowned at the certainty in his voice. It was as though he had forgotten the days events. “But that cocoon is a – ”

“Yeah, I know it’s a major cash-cow,” Daryan interrupted and he sounded annoyed. “It might be a sufficient motive for regular people but I ain’t regular. I’m a detective and a star,” he said with emphasis. “I don’t need that moolah. I got enough money of my own.”

“I know!” Klavier snapped. “It is not me you have to convince. It is others who will question you.”

“What do you mean question me?” Daryan snapped and he was definitely in a bad mood now. “You ain’t gonna put me on the witness stand, man.”

“I will not as long as it is within my power,” Klavier said overriding Daryan who seemed ready to interrupt once more. “But I cannot account for the Judge.”

“Ha!” Daryan scoffed. “Judge chrome dome doesn’t have enough of a brain to do something like that. You can influence him no problem.”

“Perhaps not but Herr Forehead will most likely try to indict you in the murder to get Machi Tobaye off the hook.”

“That dingleberry ain’t any better,” Daryan sneered. “He’s just picked up a few tricks from that Wright dork and he can’t even do them right.”

Ema had heard enough. She straightened up and, with a frown on her face, stalked right into the room to find Klavier sat in his chair while Daryan was leaning on the desk with his hands, presumably to get in the fop’s face. Both men turned to look at her.

“Mr Wright is not a dork.” Ema sniffed glaring at Daryan who smirked at her.

“Eavesdrop much, babe?”

“If you don’t want to be overhead close the door,” Ema snapped before turning on Klavier ready to inform him of the firecrackers she had found but was interrupted.

“You were listening in on our conversation, Fräulein?” He frowned and she glared at him.

“No,” she said without blushing although she knew it was a blatant lie. “Anyway, I came to tell you about some firec–”

“Fräulein, please do not listen at my door again,” Klavier interrupted again. “It is unbecoming of a lady.”

Ema’s eyes narrowed at him as the blood rushed to her cheeks. She opened her mouth to retort but decided not to at the last minute as she figured she would probably just embarrass herself further. Her fingers tightened around the plastic bag containing the fragments of the firecrackers she had found at the scene and a devilish thought occurred to her.

“Now, why have you come?” he asked and Ema’s blood boiled at the rude manner in which he phrased that question. Her mind made up, Ema answered with a straight face while stuffing the evidence deeper into her bag.

“No new evidence was found at the crime scene.”

Ema could have sworn she saw Daryan visibly relax and her suspicions (which had begun building the moment she found the pieces) heightened.

“Ya see?” Daryan said rounding on Klavier who also looked relieved. “You were creatin’ a big stink over nothing – as always.”

“Daryan,” Klavier said exasperatedly. Ema turned to march away, eager to get away from the pair but the fop said her name and she stopped before turning slowly to face him again.

“What?” she said waspishly.

“Careful there, babe,” Daryan drawled. “I wouldn’t talk to the head honcho like that if I were you.”

“You’re not me!” she snapped. “Now what do you want, Gavin?”

“Raowr,” Daryan sounded and Ema had her bag of Snackoos out so quick, neither man saw where it had come from. Within seconds she had thrown a handful of them in Daryan’s face. “Ow!” he complained rubbing his forehead. “What the hell was that for?”

“Being you,” Ema said, the calm in her voice belying the sorrow she felt at her precious snacks littering the floor.

“Fräulein Skye,” Klavier said sharply. “I think it unnecessary for you to assault everyone with those things.”

“Hmph,” was all Ema said before popping one into her mouth and looking away.

“Daryan, I will speak to you later. Remember, lie…”

“…low.” Daryan finished, his voice laced with contempt. “Yeah. You remember what I said. Nail him. Ya dig?”

“Ja.” Klavier nodded.

Daryan winked at her before gliding out of the room with all the prowess of a hunter – the type that lived underwater. Ema almost shuddered at the predator-like aura Crescend seemed to carry around with him. Even his smile, though perfect in every way, was feral and every time he looked at her, it was as if he were considering her potential as a prey. Up until recently she had always been comfortable enough in his company (which hadn’t been often) however, after Lamiroir’s accusation Ema began to see another, harsher, side to him. She had heard him talk about Klavier and the bond between the two friends was evident even when Daryan was being his usual sarcastic self and it was hard for her to believe he could be a murderer. Yet, the new evidence she had found was enough to make her suspicious and, coupled with the reaction she had seen from Daryan, she was almost certain he was guilty. The thought made her both angry (at Daryan for allowed Machi to take the fall) and sad (because it would affect Klavier tremendously). She didn’t know very much about the relationship between the two but she guessed that Kristoph Gavin’s arrest had had enough of an impact on the younger Gavin if it had bought him half way across the world to see the attorney that had put him away. She focused on the latter Gavin and found him leaning his head back, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. He looked tired and disturbed. Her anger abated and pity took hold once more.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly and Klavier straightened up to look at her.

“Whatever for, Fräulein?” he asked, surprised.

“It must be hard,” she started, looking away, finding it hard to continue looking at him, “about Daryan.”

She didn’t see his eyes but she heard it in his voice – it was dark when he spoke; “There is no need to be sorry,” he said and she looked at him surprise. He was frowning and there was a storm in his eyes. “Daryan is not guilty.”

“But…” she began, frowning. “Lamiroir said that – ”

“She is mistaken,” Klavier interrupted abruptly. “The only crime Daryan is guilty of is offending people with his hair.” Ema opened her mouth deciding that she would tell him about the fragments she had found but he cut across her. “Fräulein, I will not hear anymore.”

“So you think it’s more likely a child murdered LeTouse than a grown man?” Ema demanded with mounting disbelief and anger.

“Yes,” Klavier said bluntly and Ema’s eyes narrowed. She knew that look in his eyes – he would not listen to a thing she had to say because he was blinded by his personal attachment to Daryan. She knew that she couldn’t give him the piece of evidence that she had found now. Who knew what he would do with it? He was irrational and a paranoia born of past experiences made her wonder if he wouldn’t manipulate it or even make the evidence disappear. She remembered her own trial in which her sister had turned to the illegal to protect her. She understood what Klavier was going through but it didn’t give him the right to wrongfully prosecute a child in such a brutal murder.

“Authority figures cannot always be trusted, Gavin,” Ema said firmly. “I know. When I was on trial, the – ”

“Fräulein Skye,” Klavier cut across her sharply, standing up, and his blue eyes were flashing now. “I do not know what you went through nor do I wish to hear it. I have known Daryan since we were children. I know him. He is not a murderer.” Ema’s mouth dropped a little and something akin to hurt rushed through her. “I asked you to remain behind as I wished to know if there was anything else I should know about the investigation.”

She stared at him for a moment before responding. “No,” Ema said coldly.

“Very well. You may leave.” He said dismissing her and turning away to stare out of the window. Ema marched out of his office.

No… Klavier Gavin was not rational enough to be trusted with such evidence. However, she was also feeling a little guilty remembering the relief that Klavier had clearly felt at her lie. What would happen when the evidence found its way into court tomorrow and his relief was washed away never to be brought back? Ema was torn, unable to make a decision.

To tell him or not to tell him?

She needed advice and there was only one man who could give her that. With a sigh, Ema Skye turned right and made her way through the night towards the Wright Anything Agency.

4. Darkest Before The Dawn

Almost an hour later Ema stood at the front door to the Wright Anything Agency, feeling sad for the millionth time at the title, and knocked. It should have only taken a half hour to get here but she was dangerously low on Snackoos and therefore had to stop along the way to re-stock her bag.

Re-stock was an understatement really, Ema thought as her fingers curled around the strap of her bag. It was bursting at the seams with several packets of her favourite snacks. She could live off them forever if she had to. Just as her hand freed itself to dive into the open zip to retrieve a pack, the door opened and Phoenix Wright stood at the threshold.

Ema had seen him several times since her return but every time was a shock to her system. She always expected him to be suited and booted and ready to defend. There was no space left in her mind to accommodate this new Phoenix with his hobo attire. There was a shadowed weariness in his blue eyes, like the depths of the seas that held all the secrets of the dark places nobody dared enter. His shoulders were no longer upright and strong but slouched as if burdened by the knowledge he had acquired by venturing there. His hands were always out of sight as if he was ashamed that he could no longer use them to find the truth behind the lies. Ema had seen Phoenix in court. She knew what he had lost. It wasn’t just a badge – it was an identity.

“Ema,” he said quietly with a smile. “Come on in.”

He stood aside, allowing her to pass, and closed the door behind her. Ema’s heart tightened for the thousandth time as she saw the mess he had allowed to accumulate in his office. She knew he loved his daughter (THAT was something she could never get used to) and that it was that affection that allowed Trucy to get away with all the clutter. Yet, there was a part of Ema that wondered if there was another reason for why the room no longer resembled the legal office it once used to be.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” he asked genially and Ema smiled at him sheepishly. There was something about him that made her feel 16 all over again. She supposed some memories were too deeply ingrained to ever be swayed by something as insignificant as ageing. However, there had been a hint of uneasiness as if Phoenix was uncomfortable around Ema, when she had met him for the first time after returning to L.A. She supposed he expected her to believe the rumours about him. It was nonsense of course, there was not a chance in hell anyone who had ever been defended with and by him would think he had really forged evidence. This was the man who exposed von Karma, who fought to declare his own client guilty after finding out he had hired an assassin.

Yes, Ema had read all about his cases after her departure to Europe and if there had been any room for doubt about his credibility before or during her case, the ones after it destroyed it completely.

“Ema,” his voice cut into her thoughts and she focused on the man before her, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. She shook her head, clearing it of her thoughts.

“I’m sorry, Mr Wright.” She smiled. “It’s been a long day.”

“I heard,” he said gesturing for her to sit down. “Would you like something to drink? It’s my duty to warn you that all l I have to offer is some very cheap tea.”

“No, I’m alright,” Ema declined politely and he nodded understandingly while sitting down opposite her.

“Trucy’s been bouncing with excitement and theories ever since yesterday’s trial. Of course I only see her at night, I’m so busy these days what with arranging the test run for the Jurist System…” he turned to look at the door that, she assumed, led into his daughter’s room. “It’s Apollo who bears the brunt of her enthusiasm most days.”

“She’s a cheerful girl.” Ema grinned as she remembered the few encounters she’d had with his daughter.

“Reminds me of someone else I used to know,” he said looking at her sideways. “Not so much anymore.”

Ema sighed. “You know how it is Mr Wright. You grow up and become a cynic.”

“I suppose,” he said. “And as you’re so grown up now, how about you stop calling me Mr Wright and switch to Phoenix?”

Ema grinned. “I’ll try… but old habits die hard.”

“And some don’t die at all,” he said his eyes glittering as they swept over her lab coat. “You’ve changed so much and yet remained the same.”

“An incredible feat, I know,” Ema said smugly and he chuckled, his hand sweeping over his beanie.

Her attention was drawn to the large surprised campaign button she had worn as an adolescent now stuck atop his hat. The expression on it was a fair representation of the man – he was full of the unexpected and truly exceptional, even now. She had gifted it to him just as she had boarded the aeroplane bound for Europe. Ema had never told him her reasons for giving it to him and, so, was touched that he not only kept it but also wore it in full view despite not knowing the significance behind it.

“So, Ema,” he said taking a deep breath and slapping his legs with his hands. “The late hour tells me this wasn’t a social call.”

“No it wasn’t,” Ema said sheepishly. “I need to talk to you about something.” He simply nodded, leaning forward, ready to listen. Ema took a deep breath and began. She told him everything: the location she had discovered the evidence, the gunpowder discovered on the fragments, Daryan’s reaction and her suspicions about him.

The words stumbled over each other in their rush to escape that nasty place inside her where she’d stored them. With each syllable she could breathe more freely again taking comfort in her confidant’s steady gaze. When she pulled out the evidence and handed it to him, her burden was entirely lifted because she knew that everything was in safe hands. There was no one she trusted more than this man; Ema could never place such evidence into the hands of another – perhaps not even her sister. As she watched him turn over the bag of what remained of the firecrackers, the detective knew he would do what was right – he would ensure justice.

Ironically enough…

“Apollo needs to have this,” Phoenix said and her eyebrows shot up in surprise. He looked at her with a serious expression. “My gut tells me this is a very important piece of evidence, maybe the key to this whole trial. It’s best you don’t hand this to Klavier. There’s no telling what he would do with this.”

“Klavier Gavin isn’t misguided,” Ema said, surprised at how defensive she suddenly felt though she didn’t know why – hadn’t she been thinking the same thing? Hadn’t it been this exact doubt that had led her to this man’s doorstep? So why now, when he was confirming her instincts, was she defending Klavier?

“Neither was your sister, Ema,” Phoenix said piercing her with his gaze and there was no faraway look in his eyes now, no doubt and no smirk on his face. She opened her mouth to reply but he shook his head. “No, Ema, listen. You’re right, your boss isn’t misguided. He’s emotionally biased and sometimes that’s even more dangerous. This clue, in his hands, could spell disaster not only for a potential innocent but for the prosecutor himself.”

“I don’t understand,” Ema said stiffly.

“Your sister committed many crimes to cover one crime… your crime. Klavier is a good man but he is still only human. In this case, he must not be given the chance to manipulate anything because now this trial involves a fellow band member and a best friend!” Phoenix was agitated now, on the edge of his seat clutching the bag tightly in his fist. Ema was beginning to realise the seriousness of the evidence now. His eyes were so intently fixed upon her that she was, for the first time in her life, feeling uncomfortable around him.

“Do you think…” Ema started then swallowed, almost fearful of what she was about to say. “Do you really think he would hide this evidence?”

Phoenix was quiet for a moment. “He’s a good man,” he said slowly. “But he has an unusual life, Ema.”

“What do you mean?” Ema asked, frowning in confusion.

“Consider his personal life,” Phoenix said rising from his seat and moving to stand by the window, staring out into the darkness. “He lost his parents as a child. The only family he has left is his brother who was found guilty of murder only recently. It should be easier for you to understand, the enormity of this, than most people.”

With each word, a heaviness pressed on Ema’s heart as she struggled to put herself in his position. Sure, she had experienced some of that horror with Lana but Phoenix had been there to eventually find the truth and shed light on the darkness of the case. Sadly, there was no such release for Klavier – where Lana had been innocent, Kristoph was not and that was one thing she could not imagine. Throughout Lana’s case, Ema had whole-heartedly believed her to be innocent despite overwhelming evidence to the contrary, despite Lana’s confession, and so she didn’t know what it would feel like to know that the only family she had left was, in fact, a murderer.

“There’s nobody to tell Klavier that his brother is innocent,” Phoenix said quietly. “And that’s because the horrifying truth is that Kristoph did murder someone – and Klavier doesn’t know why.”

Ema thought back to the years she had had to put up with Lana’s coldness. She had simply changed and Ema had never known why or what had changed her. She remembered the nights she would stay awake trying to work out what it was that had caused the shift and wondering if she was to blame for it or if Lana simply didn’t love her anymore. Those nights had been the worst and although she had gotten her answers, eventually realising that she was not at fault, the scars of those years still remained. With a pang of the heart, Ema realised it was probably a hundred times worse for Klavier. She couldn’t have imagined it could get much worse than what she’d had to deal with but the prospect of what Klavier was going through…

“He has a very unsteady life,” Phoenix continued. “He’s always in the public eye either as a prosecutor or an artist. He lives his unstable life with a smile on his face. He’s a man who takes the law very seriously and so his brother’s crime – who was also an attorney and, by extension, also a brother in arms – is an even greater betrayal. He fights and fights every single day against crime. He makes difficult decisions on a daily basis.” Phoenix turned around and Ema looked at him. “He’s an exceptional man but he’s just that… a man.”

Ema lowered her eyes again and stared at her hands without really seeing them. Instead, all she saw was Klavier’s bright smile underlining his amused eyes. She had never really thought about it deeply – in her mind, Klavier had always been a strong, professional (and sometimes irritating) figure and it was just hitting her now that, because he did his job so well, she never really thought of him as someone with emotions and problems. She thought she had come to see her friend because she doubted Klavier’s inability to make a rational judgement but, upon deeper reflection, she realised that had she actually been thinking of his feelings, she would not be so shocked by Phoenix’s insight into the matter. If she had really considered Klavier’s feelings, perhaps she would have understood his lashing out at her rather than lie to him and run to Phoenix in a fit of rebellion.

“How many smiles do you think he can fake before he cracks?”

“I never really thought of him like that,” she answered quietly. She lowered her head in shame. “I really only came here because I was angry…” she trailed off not wanting to sound childish by admitting she had thrown a tantrum at Klavier’s behaviour. If Phoenix noticed anything, he didn’t show it.

“You need to give this to Apollo,” Phoenix said quietly, approaching where she sat. He held it out to her. “Give it to him…”

But Ema was shaking her head refusing to look at the bag.

“No, Mr Wright,” she said turning away. “I… I can’t.”

“Ema…”

“You give it to him,” Ema said heavily.

She saw Phoenix nod out of the corner of her eye and move to put it away. She shut her eyes while trying to rub away the throbbing that had begun at her temples. She didn’t understand why she felt like she was in the wrong but there was something inside her that kept picturing Klavier’s face when this new evidence was presented and he was faced with the inevitable truth – that Daryan was guilty. Phoenix seemed to agree – he hadn’t put it in so many words but that he hadn’t contradicted her theory was a bad sign.

The sadness she felt inside was starting to erode away at some of the peace she had gained upon arriving here. It was this guilt and sadness that just made her want to snatch the evidence off Phoenix and run to Klavier with it. Of course she could never do anything like that and her present situation was enough of a reminder why. She felt the overwhelming desire to do something she knew was wrong simply to spare Klavier the pain he would feel… What would he do to protect his best friend from going to prison? What would he do to keep from losing one more person in his life?

“You care about him.”

Ema’s eyes flew open as Phoenix’s voice interrupted her thoughts. He was standing beside her, his face turned downwards, a small smile on his face. She opened her mouth to protest but he held up a hand.

“He’s going to need a true friend,” he said quietly the smile fading from his face as suddenly as it had reappeared. “There’s a dark time coming for Klavier and he won't be able to pull through it alone.”

“I don’t think I’m the one for that job,” Ema mumbled. “He’s a rock star I’m sure he–”

“–will be looking for a real friend rather than people who pretend to be,” Phoenix finished kindly and Ema silenced. He crouched down next to her. “He’s going to need you. You in particular.”

“Why me?” Ema asked quietly although she thought she already knew the answer.

“Because of what you went through with Lana.” Phoenix said simply staring straight into her eyes now. “Be his friend, Ema.”

She hesitated before nodding slowly. “I’ll try. But after this, he might not want to talk to me.”

“He will,” Phoenix said rising and walking to one of the doors and opening it slightly. He peered inside for a moment and, seemingly satisfied, closed it again. “Just checking Trucy’s still asleep. She has a rather amusing habit of listening at doors. I don’t want Apollo to be misguided by anything she overheard.”

“Mr Wright…”

“Phoenix, Ema. Or try Nick.” She didn’t know if she was imagining it but there seemed to be a wistfulness behind that request.

“Can I ask you something?”

“I think you just did and the answer is yes.” Phoenix’s eyes were glinting with amusement now.

“Can I ask another then?” Ema said half-jokingly.

“You just did it ag–”

“Mr Wright!” She hmph-ed but he was laughing now and he nodded his approval to her. “Why are you so concerned about Klavier when he…” her voice faded as she swallowed, afraid to say the words.

“When he was the one who took my badge away, you mean?” Phoenix guessed and she nodded. “Because he isn’t the one who took it away – someone else did. Klavier only did what he thought was right. I would have done the same.”

Ema stared at Phoenix unable to believe how forgiving the man was, how big his heart was. Upon finding out Klavier’s involvement in the trial, Ema had sworn to loathe the prosecutor for all eternity but the real victim was defending Klavier and telling her to be there for him. If she wasn’t mistaken, Phoenix was saving him.

“Don’t blame him, Ema.” Phoenix said quietly, looking into her face. “He carries so much weight already. He’s trapped in a hell we can’t see. What use would it be to punish a man who’s committed no crime?”

Ema sighed and nodded. Phoenix was right of course – as always. There was nothing to blame Klavier for and there was nothing to be gained by doing so. The stress of the evening made her snap and she yanked out a packet of Snackoos from her bag and began to munch on them ferociously trying to distract herself from her thoughts by focusing all her energy into reducing the snacks to less than crumbs inside her mouth.

“Ema,” Phoenix said eyeing the packet in her hand. “What are those? I saw you munching on them a few times and I confess I’m very curious.”

“Oh!” Ema said glancing from Phoenix to her snacks and back again before extending her packet forward. “Here, try some. I was in late for work one day just after moving back and I grabbed a packet of these from one of those stands. I’ve been addicted ever since.”

She watched Phoenix take one out of her bag and pop it into his mouth. She didn’t realise how tense she was until he nodded approvingly and she relaxed, relieved he shared her taste.

“They’re pretty good,” Phoenix said. “Not too pleasant to look at but nevertheless…”

“What do you mean?” Ema said quickly.

“Well…” his mouth twitched. “Don’t they remind you of…?”

“Don't say it!” Ema squealed, her eyes widening in horror. “I can’t believe you almost desecrated them like that!”

“Ah…” he smirked. “So they do remind you of–”

“Lana!” she interrupted hastily. “She said to tell you hi!”

“When I tell you that Snackoos remind me of–”

“Mr Wright!” Ema protested almost desperately, glaring at him and he roared with laughter.

“I’m so glad you’re back, Ema,” He said.

Ema sniffed almost getting teary at the kindness of his remark. Refusing to cry, however, she simply pulled out an unopened packet of Snackoos and thrust them in his hands. He took them with a nod of the head to indicate he understood the gesture. Thankfully, however, he didn’t say anything else that would have caused the detective to turn on the waterworks, switching instead to a lighter topic.

“How is Lana nowadays?”

“She’s okay.” Ema nodded. “She’s working as a legal advisor now. It’s a big step down from Chief Prosecutor but she’s happy with it. And she’s seeing somebody too.”

“Oh?” Phoenix said interestedly but Ema saw an expression on his face and she knew he was probably thinking something cheeky or sarcastic… or both.

“She says it’s not serious. But, scientifically speaking,” Ema’s back straightened and her voice took on a professional quality, “nine months is more than enough time to test the waters.”

“Of course,” Phoenix said with laughter in his voice. “And we both know science is never wrong!”

Ema grinned. “Never!”

“I’m glad to hear things are going well for Lana. She deserves it.”

“Yes,” Ema said, her voice quietened by the rush of memories. “She does.”

They both sat in a comfortable silence that could only exist between two friends who had been through rough times, helped one another and trusted one another. Phoenix was staring at something next to the table that Ema couldn’t see. Either because it was blocked by clutter or because she wasn’t paying attention – she didn’t know. Her mind was beginning to wander off again… toward the evidence she had just handed over to Phoenix. Her eyes roamed the office and, to her consternation, she found that she was imagining grabbing it and running away with it.

That was her cue to leave.

“I better go,” she said jumping to her feet. Phoenix rose too, a look of uncertainty quickly being replaced by comprehension as he nodded. “Thank you for everything Mr Wri– I mean, Phoenix,” she amended when she saw the amused exasperation in his eyes. “I really appreciate it.”

“You did the right thing coming to me, Ema,” Phoenix said as they walked to the door and he opened it for her. Ema nodded feeling somewhat miserable and made to step out but stopped suddenly and spun to face him again.

“It will be alright won’t it?”

Phoenix’s eyes bore into her own for a long moment and he was serious now. His expression was inscrutable and she didn’t know whether to be comforted or afraid. “It’s always darkest before the dawn, Ema,” he said cryptically.

“You know, scientifically speaking that’s not entirely correct,” Ema said nervously, trying to joke. “The darkest time of the night is when the moon…”

“Don’t worry, Ema. The wrong will always be righted.” Phoenix said with a comforting smile. She took a deep breath and nodded.

“’Night.”

“Goodnight, Phoenix,” Ema said walking out through the doorway and down the steps, throwing a smile over her shoulder at him without stopping. She heard the door shut quietly and she took another deep breath of fresh air. Or as fresh as it could get in the heart of populated L.A. She glanced at her watch: it was 1.27 AM. She would have been surprised at how late it was had it not been for the sudden tiredness she felt. So, rather than walking the 20 minutes back to her apartment, she took a cab home.

It was 45 minutes later, after having changed, brushed her teeth and curled up in bed, when Ema finally felt the full extent of the day’s chores. She passed out almost immediately but found no rest. Her dreams were plagued by traitorous siblings, unjust guilty verdicts and twin pools of azure filled with pain that wrenched at parts of her heart that she hadn’t known existed.

The trial had been over for more than eight hours now; it was past midnight and the moonlight shone through the glass wall of the office, its silver beam bouncing off a trashcan blackened by smoke where a cocoon replica had recently been burnt, onto a framed picture of a young boy band staring at the camera. A crack in the glass distorted the smiles on their jubilant faces. Sheets of paper and books littered the ground so that the floor was barely visible. A charred guitar lay atop them hewn in two, the pieces separated by an axe. All the wall mounted flat screens that always displayed details of cases were now dark and devoid of information. One of the case displays for the guitars on the wall was smashed and all the floor lights which usually enhanced and drew attention to the instruments were off, prevented from shining any light in the darkness.

Among this room of chaos sat a young prosecutor in his black chair, strumming the guitar in his lap as he stared out at the stars without really seeing them. Klavier’s mind was numb. It had been for a long while now. He kept replaying the trial over and over in his head but it generated no feeling in him besides heightening the iciness that seemed to have encased his thoughts. It was as if everything had frozen over and he was stranded in limbo, unable to find his way out.

He had watched, with conflicted emotions, his best friend since childhood put on the witness stand like some common criminal and accused of impossible things; smuggling, blackmail… and murder. As if this were not enough, Klavier had been forced to watch his oldest friend change from the righteous detective to a criminal mastermind whose wit, intellect and years of involvement with the law had almost helped him escape punishment. It was as though, ever since Lamiroir’s statement, someone had been tracing the cold metal of a knife up and down Klavier’s spine, pressing harder and harder into his skin until it stopped midway and plunged into his back. And he had turned around to find that the culprit was his best friend.

Daryan’s fall from grace had been as painful for Klavier as it had for his friend. He had seen the madness that seemed to overcome Daryan Crescend as he tried to press Machi into keeping quiet about his involvement. There had been no words strong enough to convey the disgust Klavier had felt at that moment, unable to comprehend the demon that had possessed Daryan. For a second, Klavier had been sure that it was not his good friend on the stand but a doppelganger.

It just didn’t make sense.

They had joined together to fight crime – Daryan as a Detective and Klavier as a Prosecutor. Both having been orphaned at a young age by criminals, they’d had a lot in common but there was one thing that had bonded them in a fierce way – their hatred for criminals and their desire for justice. Also sharing a love of music, they had created a harmony between the two interests in order to fight against crime in the only way they could as adolescents – until they could fight in a more effective manner that is. However, when Daryan made detective and Klavier prosecutor, they had decided to continue releasing their music in a bid to raise awareness of the crime that surrounded society and they had assumed it was their unwavering belief that had led to so many successful hits. They had been a team, always, in law enforcement and in their music. They had respected each other and understood each other… or so Klavier had thought.

He had been replaying the events of the trial in his mind over and over and he could not find a reason for the insanity that had gripped Daryan. That was not the boy Klavier had befriended. That was not the adolescent Klavier had shared plans with. That was not the man Klavier had rocked with. That man was unknown to him. That Daryan… was a stranger to him. He could not understand him.

And this infuriated him.

Daryan had had everything – looks, money, fame, success in – not one – two careers. Women fell at his feet, co-workers looked up to him and friends cared about him. Why had he done it? Klavier could think of no other reason than a desire for money which made no sense because Daryan was swimming in it – more was coming in every day. And so his crime was all the more senseless, all the more unbelievable – he had forced Klavier to watch as he was led from the courtroom, his hands bound by the very handcuffs he had been placing on others for years. He had force-fed Klavier a bitter dose of betrayal.

He threw the guitar in his lap across the room while letting out an anguished roar. Why??? Why, why, WHY?? After all their years together, all their dreams and fulfilment of those ambitions, why had he done this? Why had he thrown dirt on their friendship, why had he sullied everything they had accomplished? Did he not stop to think of the consequences of his actions? Did the selfish bastard not realise what he would be doing to his friends? The Gavinners had been more than just a rock band – that’s what they had established, Daryan and he. They had privately joked, calling themselves the ‘Soldiers of Justice’, because the band had been a symbol of hope and a fight against crime. It had been a message to the masses – that crime was still being battled. That they hadn’t given up. And what they had spent a decade building, and almost as long accomplishing, Daryan had destroyed within days.

All over a bloody piece of cocoon.

Damned Borginians. If they had never made such a fuss about those stupid cocoons, Daryan wouldn’t have had to smuggle nor murder anyone and Klavier would still have his best friend by his side…

And this is exactly how the criminal mindset is born – resent and rebel against the law for trying to keep people safe… You are accusing an entire race for the mistake of one man. A man who used his authority, used you and a 14 year old child for his irrational crime. He did not give a damn who he hurt. What if that cocoon had been discovered in your guitar? Daryan had not cared the jeopardy he put anyone in, not even you…

“Mr Gavin?”

He lifted his head from his hands, his eyes closing in protest at the harsh light spilling in around the figure that stood in the doorway.

“Who’s that?” he asked, his voice somewhat harsh. He didn’t care – the fact that someone was coming into his office despite the late hour was bad enough but the blinding light was just adding insult to injury.

“It’s Detective Skye.”

His jaw clenched and had his eyes not already been half-shut, they would have narrowed. The Fräulein better have a very good reason for coming to see me.

“Yes?” he said in a coolly.

“Can I come in?” she asked and Klavier’s anger almost abated at the timid tone of her voice. Almost.

“Yes but close the door behind you, please. I have a raging headache.”

She complied quietly before turning back to him. His eyes had adjusted to the dark of his office a long time ago and, with the aid of the moonlight streaming in from behind and reflecting off her, he could see her perfectly fine. She, however, was clearly having a difficult time. His eyes fixed on her, he watched her as she stood still until she could see enough to look about her. The expression on her face changed from wariness to shock as she surveyed the mess he had created over the last 8 hours.

“It is a mess, no?” he said, fake amusement lacing his voice.

She sniffed. “It’s always a mess.”

He blinked for a moment at the bluntness of her response before letting out a bark of a laugh. For some odd reason, he had expected her to tiptoe around him… Obviously, that was not happening. His laugh died as suddenly as it had come and he didn’t respond, choosing instead to continue watching her as she observed the ‘mess’. He didn’t offer her a seat – he wasn’t feeling very gracious. After all, the little she-devil had gone behind his back and consorted with the enemy. Perhaps it wouldn’t have been so bad had she told him and the defense – but she hadn’t. She had intentionally left out important details such as Lamiroir’s attack and the little fragments of deception choosing instead to tell Apollo Justice – all of which had ultimately led to Daryan’s arrest. And after all that, she had boldly come into his office when, by all accounts, she should be at home, leaving him alone.

No, Klavier wasn’t feeling very gracious at all.

“Is that an axe!?” Ema’s voice cut into his thoughts, disbelievingly.

He eyed the weapon on the ground. “Ja.”

“Tell me you didn’t hack at your own guitar with it,” Ema said staring at him.

“I thought I heard ein mouse inside it.” He didn’t expect her to believe him – stupid questions spawned stupid answers, that was all.

Ema opened her mouth to say something but seemed to change her mind as she glanced down at the dismal remains of his instrument. After a moment, she spoke again; “Where did you get that axe from? It looks familiar…” Her voice trailed off and she sank to the ground her hands skimming the wooden handle and the blade before returning her shocked gaze to Klavier. “This is –”

“ – the murder weapon from the State vs McReady case, ja,” Klavier finished. “I could not find anything else,” he lied thoroughly enjoying the expression on her face. Tampered evidence was her worst nightmare. “I dislike mice.”

He wanted to laugh. He didn’t know whether the horror in her eyes was because he might have ruined the evidence or the thought that he might have chased a poor mouse with the intention of butchering it. Whatever it might have been though, the lie was worth it; she looked ready to explode.

Surprisingly, she didn’t. Instead, she pulled out a pair of latex gloves and after slipping them onto her hands, proceeded to pull out a bag in which she placed the axe. Klavier watched interestedly while she moved to place the thoroughly wrapped axe in the corner behind the doorway, dropping her bag next to it. She began to rummage through the mess, he assumed, to find any other evidence that might need protecting from him. There was nothing else but Klavier did not tell her so. Instead, he enjoyed the sight of her frustrated attempts to identify objects in the dark. She was picking up papers and putting them in a pile on one of the speakers in the room and piling up books on the other. She picked up the scattered folders off the floor and…

“Fräulein, what are you doing?” Klavier’s voice rang out sharply. Ema was either too absorbed to hear him or simply ignored him as she continued rearranging the folders in her lap, crouching on the ground. He stared at her, bewildered, for several minutes as she picked up all the documents and stowed them away in the filing cabinet beside him. If he wasn’t mistaken (and he was sure he wasn’t), she was cleaning up his office. He was about to speak again when she walked out of his office swiftly leaving him staring after her not caring about the bright light pouring in. He was wondering if the good detective had lost her mind when she stalked back in, a broom in her hand and a determined look on her face. She marched to the cabinet he kept his guitars in and began sweeping the broken glass into one corner.

Klavier inwardly exploded.

“What do you think you are doing?” he demanded in a barely controlled voice. Her calm response only angered him further.

“You’re going to hurt yourself on the glass. I’m cleaning this up.”

Hurt? She was worried about him getting hurt now? Where was her concern when she had ran off to Justice and handed him all the evidence he needed to incriminate Daryan? Where had her concern been when he asked her if there had been any new evidence and she had lied?

“Stop cleaning,” he commanded, rising from his chair. She looked at him, disturbed by the sudden coldness in his voice. His back was to the window and his face was bathed in shadows. She couldn’t see his expression but the stillness of his body made her apprehensive. He suddenly seemed so much taller than usual, so much darker… so much stronger.

“If I don’t clean this no one will. I’m not – ”

“Go home,” he cut across her.

“But – ”

“I said,” Klavier’s voice was dangerously low. “Go home.”


She stared at him for a moment and he saw the look of confusion in her gaze before she lowered her eyes and nodded. She gently placed the broom against the wall. Klavier turned his back on her, unable to look at the woman, either out of guilt or resentment, he didn’t know – and he didn’t care. He looked at his reflection in the glass window and, upon seeing it, admired the detective for not running away from him sooner; he looked thunderous, ready to take his anger out in anyway on anyone…

Chink. Whack. Thud.

A yelp.

He spun around to find Ema Skye on her knees, clutching her hands, rocking back and forth.

Klavier moved with lightening speed. He was by her side in an instant and was horrified to hear the sound of glass beneath his boots; she had landed right in the middle of it. He leant down next to her and glanced into her face which was twisted with pain. As he followed her gaze to her hands, he was dismayed to find blood oozing from both of them. In one fluid movement, he slipped his hands under her and lifted her into his arms. Her eyes flew his as he carried her across the room and laid her into his chair before turning the lamplight on his desk on. He took her hands in his inspecting them for any glass that might have lodged itself into her skin and although he found no trace of any, he theorized that there could still be some.

“We need to take you to the hospital,” he said, worriedly. “There might – ”

“It’s okay. My wound’s clean,” Ema interrupted. “I don’t need the hospital. There’s – ”

“How can you know – ”

“I studied to be a scientific investigator,” Ema said calmly. “I failed but that doesn’t mean I know nothing. It’s fine. There’s a first aid kit in my bag. Could you bring it over please?” Klavier stared at her uncertainly, still sure that the hospital was the right way to go. “It’s okay,” Ema said again. “Please.”

Klavier nodded wordlessly and retrieved her bag from where she had put it. He opened the bag gingerly, feeling as though he was invading her privacy – which was absurd as she was the one who had asked him to do this. Trying to keep this in mind, he rifled through her things until he found a small package with the symbol of a green square and a white cross. He pulled it out and walked back to the young woman who was obviously trying to keep from getting any blood on his chair. She held out a hand to take it from him but he shook his head placing the kit onto the table and opening it.

“Do not be ludicrous, Fräulein. I will do it.”

“That’s not necessary – ” Ema began but he wasn’t listening. He was pulling out a roll of dressing, bandages and a bottle of solution to clean wounds. Taking them into his hands, he crouched down beside Ema and motioned for her to hold out her hand.

“Really, I can do this myself,” she protested.

“Fräulein, be quiet,” was all he said but the tone of his voice said the rest. She quietly did as he asked and he got to work. He wiped her wound clean and saw a large gash running across the palm of her hand which he went on to dress and bandage. Gently pulling her hand forward and going to work on it, Klavier finally broke the silence; “How did you fall?”

Ema didn’t answer straight away. “I don’t suppose heels are the best footwear when there are shards of glass making the surface uneven and slippery.”

Klavier glanced at her feet as a reluctant smile tugged at his lips. “No, Fräulein. I would have to agree with you there.”

“In my defence,” Ema said quickly. “I didn’t know I would be trudging through glass today.”

“True,” Klavier agreed as he disposed of the blood soaked cotton pad and picked up another to clean away the rest; she had several shallow cuts just above her wrist. Klavier was insanely grateful that there was no damage to her wrist. “But Fräulein, you are a detective are you not?”

“Yes…” she said, her voice suspicious and he ducked his head to hide the growing smile on his face. How was it that only a few minutes ago he’d been so angry with her and now there was no trace of it left in his system?

“So you should always wear sensible footwear. You never know when you might be engaged in a deadly chase, ja?”

Ema didn’t answer and he risked a glance at her face. She was staring at the window and there was no hint of a pout on her lips. He wondered if she had even heard him. When he was finished bandaging her hand, he leant back, rocking on his heels as he said, “there.” She looked at her hands and mumbled a thanks.

“Do not thank me, Fräulein Skye,” he said shaking his head lowering his eyes to the floor, in shame. “I should be thanking you for what you offered to do tonight. And I must apologise for the way I spoke to you. It was harsh.” He paused. “It has been a… long day.”

“You’re angry with me aren’t you?” she asked and the sadness in her voice made his eyes snap back up to hers. He was not a liar and he especially would not lie to make someone feel better when he was in a mood such as this. But the way her eyes silently pleaded him… He knew that he had no reason to be angry at her. If she had bought him the evidence instead of taking it to his opponent, what would he have done? He couldn’t have turned a blind eye to it – he would have done what the Defense had done. In fact, she had spared him the mental anguish of having to decide what to do with the evidence. The guilt at betraying his friend and his everlasting sense of duty had battled within him during the trial for a short while and he could still feel the after-effects. What would it have done to him if he had had more time to decide? Nothing, except make the conclusion that much harder to bear – because, in the end, he would have still chosen the path of justice.

“Nein,” he sighed heavily shaking his head. “I am not angry with you. I am angry with him.”

Ema leaned forward until her face was level with his. “If you need to talk…” She left the sentence unfinished and he smiled bitterly.

“Danke, Fräulein,” he said. “I am…” At that moment, however, he happened to glance to the side and caught sight of her leg; it was bloodied and ripped at the knee. “Mein Gott!” he exclaimed and she followed his gaze.

“Oh.” She sounded more irritated than concerned. “Pass me the sal – ”

But Klavier wasn’t listening to her. He was wetting a cotton pad with more solution; “Pull up your – ”

“I can do – ”

“Fräulein, pull up your – ”

“I told you I – ”

“Fräulein! Please, do as I say.”

Ema sighed and pulled up her trousers until her knee was bare and Klavier jumped on the wound immediately. It was deep too and he made sure there was no glass lodged here either. Once satisfied, he began to clean it gently so as not to hurt her and was impressed when she did not make a sound. He tried to ignore the softness of her skin and the flawlessly milky colour of it. It took all his control to remain focused on his task but this proved difficult – his mind was caught up in fantasies of his lips running down her legs, to her ankles as his fingers danced across the back of her…

“Ach!” He had to focus! This wasn’t helping his concentration… and what the hell was he thinking anyway?

“What’s wrong?” Ema asked and he shook his head mumbling “nothing, nothing…”

He finished the task as quickly as he could, all the while focusing the rest of his energy on not thinking about… about that. Except by not thinking about it, he was thinking about it.

What was wrong with him?

He jumped up and took a step back, straining to keep a smile on his face. “Da sind Sie ja!”

“What?” she said and he was amused to hear the Ema Skye trademark grump back in her voice.

“It means there you are, Fräulein,” he translated and she nodded pulling her pants back down over her leg. He turned around quickly so he wouldn’t get caught up in another fantasy and placed the bottle of solution, bandages and dressing back into the kit he had taken them out from. He zipped the bag shut and turned around to hand it to her but was taken aback to find her standing so close. She was still pulling at her trousers wincing with every curse she muttered and he smiled. Until she straightened and glanced up at him.

And he was lost.

Her green eyes were wide, sparkling like emeralds in the dim light, encased in a perfect, heart-shaped face. Her cheeks were slightly flushed and her lips were parted, red and full, and the contrast against the creamy whiteness of her skin was triggering sparks in his stomach. His body and mind screaming at him to pull her into his arms and kiss her until the world ended. Part of him knew it was madness – Klavier Gavin never lost control of himself. To do so now, especially with a woman who could (and probably would) easily reject him, would be an excruciating embarrassment.

Even as he thought this though, he stepped closer to the detective and his hand reached out to her face. He ran a thumb across her cheek and, to his delight, she did not pull away; her eyes closed. Her skin was like fresh silk – untouched, undamaged and soft in all its glory. He took another step forward until they were touching. The warmth of her body turned that spark into a blazing inferno that spread through him like wildfire. His hand circled around the back of her neck and he leaned in slowly until there were inches left between their lips. He could feel her breath on his own and the scent of citron and strawberries was a pleasant combination. He moved closer until there were millimetres left between their mouths and he paused, giving her the chance to pull away, to say no. It would drive him insane and test the very limits of his control but he was a gentleman.

So he waited, his eyes on hers which remained closed and the dark lashes resting against her skin only pushed him further. Still she didn’t move away. One more glance at her lips, sweetly parted for him, inviting him in, and Klavier moved in to seal them with his.

6. A Fellow Snackooer

Ema yelped as she cut her finger on the knife she was using to slice an orange. She moved swiftly to the sink where she ran her bleeding wound under cold water while mentally cursing everything from the orange to herself. Ema Skye was in an unusually foul mood this morning – of course a bad mood was not unusual for the detective but her grump meter was at an all time high. It had nothing to do with the fact that it was 4 AM and she couldn’t find any sleep nor was the lack of food in the house the cause. It wasn’t because she had just hurt herself while trying to carve the last of her fruit and it had absolutely nothing to do with the headache that was plaguing her. No, it was for a decidedly different reason that Ema felt angry enough that she could pick up the knife and chop her finger right off.

Turning the tap off violently, she yanked some kitchen towel off the roll and wrapped it around her finger before hunting down some plasters in one of the cupboards in her rather small bathroom. She didn’t notice the mess she was creating in her search as shampoo bottles and toothpaste tubes flew right off the shelves – she was far too busy berating herself.

“Stupid,” she muttered. “Can’t even cut an orange without hurting yourself.” To any bystander, Ema’s fury at the mishap would have been a rather strange overreaction. However, at the core of this angrier-than-normal behaviour lay an embarrassing memory. Over two weeks had passed since that incident in Klavier’s office but Ema still could not find reprieve from the humiliation of that night. Her cruel mind kept replaying the scene of the almost-kiss with torturous quality; the scent of his breath, the power of his gaze, the strength of his hold – every time she thought about it she could swear he was before her, doing it all over again. Except now she didn’t lose her common sense, waiting instead for the phone to ring and interrupt the madness of the moment. Of course, this was around the time when the cringing and mortification set in. She recalled with painful clarity the way Klavier’s arms had slipped away from around her as he stepped back towards the trilling phone, his eyes fixed on hers. His expression had been inscrutable but Ema didn’t need to look at his face to know what he was feeling – the way he had then answered the phone and kept his eyes determinedly from meeting hers for the duration of the call had been enough.

So, Ema did the only thing she could to maintain her dignity; as Klavier had refused to look at her, she had turned around, picked up her things and the bag with the evidence and walked out of his office silently. In hindsight, Ema realised that her exit had probably looked as though she had wanted him to kiss her and had left in fury even though this was not the case. She had only left to escape any further awkwardness. However, as if this had not been horrifying enough, she had found Klavier avoiding her throughout the next two weeks with determination. Whenever she had gone to his office to drop off some paperwork or get his signature, he was always out. It was interesting, therefore, that when she handed the same papers to an underling to take to him, the young man had no problem finding the prosecutor. Furthermore, Ema discovered that all the cases that had come the fop’s way had not been mentioned to her – another detective had been assigned all three cases.

“How convenient,” Ema muttered as she thought about it for the twentieth time that night and the millionth time in 2 weeks. Of course, scientific analysis revealed he was avoiding her. Not that Ema needed scientific analysis to come to that conclusion. Any idiot with half a brain cell would realise how much Klavier regretted that… event.

“I don’t blame him,” Ema hissed finding the box of plasters and practically tearing it apart in her bid to pull one out. “I would run away from me too.”

It wasn’t Klavier’s behaviour that had incurred her wrath – it was her own behaviour. Really, how was she any better than those ridiculous fan girls she was accustomed to chasing away? In the end, she had swooned in his arms like a typical bimbo. What on earth had made her think he wanted her? What in the world had made her think she was special enough to actually attract the attention of such a man? He was rich, handsome and successful and she had thought he wanted a failed-forensics-student-turned-detective? Ha! Is it any wonder he was avoiding her? She was foolish and delusional to the point of hilarity! He had been devastated by outcome of the trial and she, the ever-logical Ema Skye, had assumed his advances were more than just a way of comforting himself. He would have jumped on any woman that had been in the vicinity. Why had her logical scientific mind failed her when it mattered the most? And why was she incapable of fixing the current situation? No wonder she’d failed her forensics exam. It was obvious she didn’t have what it took.

“Right,” Ema snapped making up her mind. She wasn’t going to stew in this nonsense a minute longer. She grabbed the notebook and pen on the table in front of her and began writing;

Klavier Gavin
Famed Prosecutor/Singer (the closest Ema got to fame was being known as the ‘mad scientist lady who chases us away’ among his fans)
Immensely successful in both careers (Ema was just about existing in her profession having failed the exam for the dream job)
Moralistic (…weren’t most people??)
Perfectionist (why didn’t he practice his perfection around crime scenes and stop his rabid fans from destroying them?)
Hounded by all of woman-kind (Ema was so sick of being witness to it… Oh, who was she kidding? He was so handsome no modelling company was good enough for him)

Ema sighed, setting the notepad aside. She couldn’t even write a list without getting defensive. Why couldn’t she just admit he was far too good for her? Why couldn’t she get it into her head that she was nothing special? Not that Ema thought she was a princess or anything but she needed to stop getting annoyed at Klavier for steering clear of her. So what if he was avoiding her like the plague? She didn’t need him and she certainly didn’t crave his attention. She’d leave the attention-seeking to his 14 year old stalkers. She was a mature woman and she was going to act like it. So, with this somewhat hastily made decision in mind, Ema got up and went about getting ready. She showered, changed and set off to work stopping off at the usual stand to buy a bag of Snackoos and pick up a latte from the café nearby. By the time she reached the office it was almost 6 AM and there were very few detectives in who’d either stayed all night or started early like her. She marched to her desk and sat down in the ergonomic chair she had recently bought from that store near her apartment. The display had said 50% off and as Ema spent most of her time in the office, she figured she needed a more comfortable one than she had. Of course, despite the half off tag, it had still cost Ema the extra bag of Snackoos she always purchased. Nevertheless, as she sat down now taking a sip of her latte and opening her bag of Snackoos, Ema felt content. She could envisage many weeks of relaxation in this chair, laid back, a bag of her favourite fried dough cakes…

Suddenly, a pile of files dropped onto her desk followed by a gruff “Skye,” and she yelped straightening in her chair. Her superior, the Chief of Detectives, was glaring at her through bleary eyes, his arms akimbo.

“Yes, Chief?” Ema enquired.

“Have those signed by Gavin. I want them on my desk by noon.”

Ema’s heart dropped at the thought of having to face the attorney before remembering that he was giving ‘avoiding’ a whole new meaning. She glanced at the pile now on her desk before speaking again.

“What are – ”

“Cortez files. They need his signature,” his voice floated over his retreating back.

“But I’m not the detective on that case!” Ema protested after him.

“I don’t care,” he growled. “Get it done!”

Ema shoved a handful of Snackoos in her mouth so there was no space left for the profanity dying to escape and chase after the grouch. Well, she wasn’t going to chase after the stupid fop. If he wasn’t in his office when she went she would give the files to someone else. She’d lost enough time stewing in thoughts of the ridiculous man and she wasn’t about to waste anymore.

“Wait a minute…” Ema said suddenly chewing on her lip as a bright idea occurred to her. She stared for a moment at the folder before her and decided she could leave it on his desk to sign and then she would have someone pick it up. He wouldn’t be in for work till much later on and although his office was probably locked there was no harm in trying – he was laid back enough to actually leave it unprotected. After all, she thought picking them up and starting off towards his office, everyone was so damn worried about invading his privacy, they wouldn’t go in without knocking (with the exception of Ema Skye of course) so the files would be safe. She had very little care or respect for the nitwit and she demonstrated this by barging into his office. In that one step from one side of the threshold to the other, Ema thought two things. One was the fact that the door was unlocked. The second was –

“Oh.”

There were two men seated near the floor-to-ceiling window. One was clad in shocking yellow and Ema recognised him as Deston Cavatin – the Gavinners drummer. The other was in a purple suit that most would look ridiculous in but he, somewhat annoyingly, pulled off. They both seemed to stop mid-sentence to look at her and, to her chagrin, Ema found herself burning up which meant she was blushing which meant he would assume she was shy of him which meant –

“Fräulein Detective,” Klavier said and the surprise in his voice was evident. However it lasted only for a moment. When he next spoke, he sounded so calm and almost bored that Ema could have sworn she had imagined it. “You are in for work early.”

“So are you,” Ema said, finding her voice. She marched forward and set down the files on his desk with a little more force than necessary. He glanced at them for a moment. “I need your signature on these.”

“Certainly,” Klavier said smoothly no hint that her bad mood had registered with him. As he picked up a pen from the desk, however, Ema saw him glance at Deston meaningfully but before she could work out what it meant, his eyes were down on the open folder and he was scribbling away. Ema stood in stony silence, staring out of the window and refusing to look at the prosecutor or acknowledge the other Gavinners band member. Evidently, the latter had other plans as he swivelled his chair deliberately facing her and extended a hand.

“Deston Cavatin,” he said with a smile and his voice, like Klavier and Daryan’s, was melodic. “CJIS Division, FBI. And the lead drummer in the Gavinners.”

Ema was lost for words as she shook his hand but luckily for her, Klavier made a strange noise which caught Deston’s attention; “What’s so funny, Gavin?”

“’Lead drummer’,” he smirked. “That’s what you say when you want to sound as important as I to the Fräuleins.”

“Huh,” Deston rolled his eyes. “I’m in the Gavinners. I think that’s enough to attract the attention of any woman I want – if I want it.” He turned back to Ema who watched the entire exchange with bewilderment. “He is arrogant, isn’t he?”

Ema decided at that very instant, that she liked the Gavinners drummer. He looked good despite being dressed a bit outrageously. Not only was his suit a bright yellow, it looked an awfully lot like it was tailored out of silk. On the other hand, he was just as handsome as Daryan and Klavier; his hair was short albeit a little crazy (was it a trend?) in that it was a mass of black chaos that didn’t look to be tamed any time this century. His eyes were a stormy gray and he was tanned (yes, she was sure crazy hair and a tan was the Gavinners uniform). But what ensured Ema’s approval of him was the fact that he recognised Klavier for what he was: an egomaniac of tremendous proportions.

“Yes,” she said, nodding. “He is definitely that.”

Deston smirked. “See, Klavier? An honest opinion at last!” He turned to Ema again who, under the stress of being in his office, had pulled out the half empty bag of Snackoos. This seemed to catch Deston’s attention who smiled widely at the detective.

“Hey, a fellow Snackooer!” Deston exclaimed and Ema froze.

“Did you just say Sna…?” she trailed off in a hushed voice.

“Yeah!!” Deston laughed. “I love those!”

Ema couldn’t believe it. He was rich, famous, handsome, saw the fop for the arrogant berk he was and he likes Snackoos. Ema could have swooned. She didn’t believe in love at first sight but this… She felt a grin spread across her lips as she stared at the young man lounging in the chair before her and, without thinking, she extended her bag to him. He looked taken aback at the way she thrust it at him but he seemed to take it in his stride and took her up on her offer. He slipped a few (well manicured, Ema noticed) fingers into the bag and pulled out some of the snacks.

“You’re very generous Ms Skye,” Deston said in between mouthfuls.

“How do you know my – ? ” Ema frowned. Had the fop mentioned her name?

“I’ve seen you in trial,” Deston answered her question and Ema nodded. Wow, he can read my mind too, Ema thought. Unlike somebody else I know. She threw a dirty look at Klavier who, interestingly, was staring at the both of them with something akin to astonishment. No he wasn’t staring at them, he was staring at something in between in them. Ema followed his gaze to the bag in her hands and her eyes widened. Before she could threaten him with a painful death for even thinking about it, Deston did it for her; “Don’t even think about it, man. Snackoos are sacred. Asking a Snackooer for one is signing your own death warrant.”

Ema blinked. Yes, she was in love.

“I was thinking no such thing,” Klavier said smoothly.

“Oh yeah?” Deston smirked. “I’ll pay you a thousand dollars to tell me what you were thinking. And no lying.”

Klavier rose an eyebrow and Ema resisted the urge to Snackoo him. “Easiest grand I’ll make today, Deston,” he said with a small smile. “I was trying to recall the precise moment you developed an affinity for cheap snacks.”

Ema froze. Her eyes narrowed on the purple blob who was still grinning at his friend.

“Now you’ve done it,” she heard Deston say and somewhere in the back of her mind, the smile in his voice registered. But right now she was far too busy listing the various ways she could kill the glimmerous fop. Maybe death by Snackoo choking? No, that would be a waste of her precious snacks…

“What…?” Klavier said as his brow furrowed in confusion but when his eyes turned to Ema who had, by now, turned red he understood the warning Deston threw at him. “No offense to you Fräulein,” he added hastily. “I only meant Deston has expensive tastes – ”

“What?” Ema hissed. Was he calling her tastes unrefined?!

“Stop there,” Deston chuckled. “You’re choking on your foot, K.”

“Hurry up and sign the damn documents,” Ema snapped. “I didn’t come in early to be insulted by you.”

She could see Klavier opening his mouth, possibly to protest, but Deston interrupted suddenly maybe because he thought his friend was about to make matters worse for himself. However, what he said next made Ema forget her anger.

“Miss Skye, would you care to have breakfast with me?”

“What?” Ema and Klavier said together but Deston barely noticed, keeping his twinkling eyes fixed on her.

“I know this delightful little place you will just love,” Deston explained standing up. “I’m very hungry and it seems like you are too. Say you’ll join me.”

Ema’s mouth opened and closed in shock. She realised she must look utterly ridiculous standing there gawping like a fish but the whole scenario was beyond her. She had practically no experience with men – they usually avoided her – and yet here was one of the Gavinners asking her out to breakfast! Okay, maybe it wasn’t a date but he wanted to eat! With her! Her mind quickly worked through the various motives he might have for it but seeing as how they had only just met, there was nothing that he could want or need from her could he? So, it meant that he honestly just wanted to… spend time with her? With this (somewhat amazing) realisation in mind, Ema nodded without casting a glance at her boss. Why not? She was early, she was hungry and one of the most wanted guys in the world was asking her to eat with him!

“Great!!” Deston exclaimed seeing her nod and motioned toward the door. “I brought my car, I hope you don’t mind if we – ”

“Ein moment, Deston,” Klavier interrupted.

“’Sup, K?” Deston turned to look at his friend and Ema’s eyebrows rose.

“Fräulein Skye has paperwork she needs to do.”

“At…” Deston glanced at the watch on his wrist, “…half 6 AM? She can do them when she comes back, can’t you Miss Skye?”

Ema stared stonily at her boss as she answered, “yes.” She wasn’t going to forget that cheap comment. Klavier shrugged indifferently.

“See?” Deston smiled. “She’ll pick them up when she’s back. Come Miss Skye,” he said placing a hand on her back and gently leading her toward the door. “I’ll see you later, K,” he threw over his shoulder.

Ema thought she heard Klavier grumble something that sounded like “Auf Nimmerwiedersehen!” but she wasn’t sure. Deston chuckled but before she could ask about it, she was being led out of the office.

He began asking her so many questions that she barely noticed the walk to the car and she couldn’t even remember sliding into her seat let alone the insignificant exchange. She was caught up in talking about forensics history and Deston seemed to listen to her with more attention than she had ever received from anyone. He asked all the right questions and he seemed genuinely interested. Before she knew it, he’d got out of his car, practically sprinted around the front and was holding open her door for her. She thanked him and he smiled warmly inclining his head. Ema secretly gave him 5 points each for being a good listener and a true gentleman. Again, he laid a hand subtly on the small of her back and led her through double glass doors held open for them by doormen. Ema didn’t have the chance to see the name of the place but once inside, she decided she didn’t really care. It wasn’t large but it sure was classy, she noted as Deston pulled out a chair for her.

“Wow, I can’t believe it’s is open so early,” Ema said as Deston settled into his own chair before her.

“This place serves amazing breakfast,” Deston said handing her a menu. “I always come in here when I’m in town.”

Ema felt a pang of disappointment. “You’re not usually here then?”

“Well, mostly,” Deston smiled. “But sometimes I’m elsewhere.”

“Oh, okay,” Ema nodded opening her menu because she didn’t know what else to say. Even though she was disappointed at the news, she wasn’t going to let him see it. However, when she saw the columns of breakfast choices, she was stumped. She’d never heard of these! What the hell was a ‘Cinnamon Eggy Bread’?! Well, she could guess at what it was but what in the world!? Bruschetta with Ham & Egg?? Whatever happened to good old egg and toast? Ema frowned in frustration. She didn’t know what she might like and she didn’t want to order something she might not like. On the other hand she didn’t want to ask Deston and sound simple. Maybe the glimmerous fop was right. She was too unrefined…

“This is your first time here,” Deston said and Ema smiled sheepishly. “I have the most fabulous recommendations – unless you want to order for yourself?”

“No,” Ema said hastily folding up her menu with relief. “If you like Snackoos then I trust your taste.”

Deston laughed and beckoned someone over. Within seconds, a waitress had appeared and was blushing furiously as he gave her their order. Before she turned away, Ema saw the little hussy throw a calculating look her way as if trying to sum up the extent of the competition. Deston seemed not to notice.

“So, Ema,” he said leaning forward. “How did you end up working for K?”

“I didn’t know I would be working for him,” Ema grumbled before smacking a hand to her mouth, her eyes wide. Deston grinned.

“Ahh,” he laughed. “It’s refreshing to see a woman who doesn’t swoon at the sound of his name.”

Ema relaxed a little. “Well, I actually wanted a job in forensics but that didn’t work out. So I applied to become a detective because that was the closest I could get to forensics.” She sighed. “I thought I would be working under Mr Edgeworth…”

“Miles Edgeworth?” Deston asked curiously. “The Demon Prosecutor?”

Ema stiffened. “He isn’t…”

“Miss Skye,” Deston interrupted. “Don’t be annoyed with me. I’m only using the title as a clarification. I have the utmost respect for the man.”

“Oh,” Ema said a smile brightening her face instantly. She rather liked Deston and didn’t want to fall out with him. “Yeah, that’s the one.”

“I heard he left to go abroad a year after Mr Wright’s disbarment,” Deston said smoothly and Ema glanced up sharply. He didn’t look smug or disgusted like the fop usually did whenever he mentioned Phoenix’s name. He simply looked like he wanted to make conversation. Apparently, her scrutiny was clear because he chuckled again. “I respect him too, Miss Skye, so please don’t glare daggers at me.”

“In that case, you can call me Ema,” she said relaxing and he nodded leaning back in his chair as the waitress returned with a plate of small croissants. He picked one up and handed it to Ema (who was pleasantly surprised to find they were warm) before lifting one to his own lips.

“So, Ema, would you mind answering a question for me?” When Ema looked up at him, he continued. “Why are you immune to K’s charm?”

Ema snorted. “Because he’s a fop!”

Again, the words tumbled out from in between her lips before she could stop them and she slapped a hand to her mouth when she remembered who she was talking to. “I’m sorry! I didn’t…”

Deston’s eyes widened and he suddenly brought a hand up to his lips before starting to violently cough.

“Deston, are you alright?” she asked, concerned. Instead of ceasing however, he seemed to double over, resting his head in his arm and coughed, if possible, even more violently shaking the table in the process. Ema, now thoroughly alarmed, threw down her croissant, shot to her feet and was by his side in an instant with a hand on his shoulder. “Is there something stuck in your – ?” However, that was when Deston threw back his head and roared with laughter while she watched on in bewilderment.

“Doch, ich sehe es!” he gasped and she narrowed her eyes as she stomped back to her seat and sat down in it trying to ignore the handful of people in the restaurant glancing their way. Seeing the frown on her face he sobered up a little but the grin never left his face. “I’m sorry, Ema. I’m not used to K being addressed as a fop.”

“Well he is!” Ema snapped and he threw his hands up as if warding off a physical attack.

“I agree, Miss Skye.” He chuckled. “I’m sorry for laughing. As I said before, it’s so refreshing to hear a woman speak so cynically of him.”

“Well, I’m not impressed by him,” Ema said looking off to the side with a pout.

“I know! I love it,” Deston said.

“Anyway,” Ema said changing the subject picking up her croissant and nibbling on it. “I didn’t know you’re German.”

“I’m not,” he said picking up one himself. “I just speak it with K so I slip into it sometimes. It’s a bad habit.”

Ema smiled. There was something about Deston that made it okay even though she couldn’t stand this trait in a certain prosecutor. It was in this banter that Ema and Deston spent the next hour and a half forging an unlikely friendship and exchanging information about themselves. Ema learnt that he had been interested in forensics himself but had eventually decided to join the Criminal Justice Information Services Division in the FBI where he found he could ‘play about’ with some fingerprinting data (Ema envied him). In general he seemed the more analytical type and he loved reading and evaluating the crimes that took place all over the States. She was fascinated with the stories he told her and the cases he’d read about, some recent and some as old as 50 years ago. Her intense interest in the Zodiac killer and the Night Stalker seemed to both amuse and surprise Deston. He knew very few women who could absorb the kind of detailed information he gave the detective without getting squeamish especially while she was eating.

Ema was enjoying herself for the first time in weeks, maybe even months. The stress she always seemed to be under lifted as she enjoyed the hearty breakfast he had ordered for the both of them and he had been right – she loved every dish that was set down before her. She hadn’t tasted such fantastic food ever since she’d started living alone. Lana had always been the cook whereas Ema was a disaster in the kitchen if motivated to try anything more complicated than scrambled egg and toast. So, she relished the rich taste of the food while she could because she knew this wouldn’t happen every day if at all. The Gavinners star really had amazing taste but then again she’d realised this simple fact when he’d pronounced his taste in Snackoos. She was further impressed when she pulled out her money for the bill and he flatly refused to allow her to pay. What a gentleman, she thought as he led her out of the restaurant and offered to drop her off at her workplace. The ride back was just as fun as the rest of the morning and just before getting out of the car, he handed her his cell phone number in exchange for a promise that she would keep in touch before driving off. So it was with a smile that Ema walked back to her desk and settled down in her chair her worries all behind her. She could hardly believe that just a few hours before she had been fuming and anxious. When she went to Klavier’s office to pick up the files she had left with him, she barely noticed the clipped tone in which he told her he’d left them on her desk. Upon returning to her desktop, she saw them lying neatly in the corner and wondered how she’d missed them.

“Oh well,” she said chirpily carrying them over to the Chief’s office. “It doesn’t matter.”

Of course this new lack of attention to detail meant Ema didn’t see the prosecutor enter the room just as she left it. Nor did she see the jealousy that flared up in his usually friendly eyes at the smile that danced upon her face.

Klavier Gavin made sure that the masses enjoyed themselves at every Gavinners concert. He and his fellow band members always performed live (none of that ridiculous miming), they always composed their own music and played their own instruments. No cheating. He was an honest man and as such, felt that everyone should get their money’s worth. It was for this reason that he felt he deserved his fans. However, sometimes even he grew tired of performing for others whether as a rock star or a prosecutor, and it was at these times that he would retreat to this reclusive spot where he could get lost in the peaceful density of the trees and revel in the solitude the river offered. It appeared Mother Nature was pleased with him; she rewarded him by playing her own music for him – every time he visited this spot in his desire for privacy, the heavens opened up and the sound of the rain on the river made him feel as though his very soul was being bathed, purified of his sins, washing away his burdens and drowning his troubles.

Except today.

He’d sat under a tree for hours now staring out across the water trying to focus on it rather than the depression that seemed to be creeping into his mind and digging its claws into his thoughts. He felt more and more like a dark cloud was hanging over his head no matter what he did. He could barely sleep, he couldn’t sit still and if he managed to, he would freeze into some pose, withdrawing into the darkening abyss of his heart. Usually, he was plagued by reminders of Daryan. It had been over 2 weeks since the trial and he had not visited his friend. No matter how much Deston and the others tried to convince him to go, just once, and talk to the fallen guitarist he refused. He might have listened to them if he knew why Daryan had done what he did but when he asked if they knew the reason, he was greeted by silence – meaning Daryan had refused to answer which proved to be all the fuel Klavier needed to keep the fire inside him raging.

They were all devastated by Daryan’s betrayal. They’d all been close but he’d been Klavier’s best friend. He’d known him since childhood. He’d grown up with him and shared everything with him. He’d been closer to him than Kristoph, his own flesh and blood. How could the man, who was for all intents and purposes like a brother, do this and refuse Klavier the courtesy of an explanation?

His phone vibrated against his chest. He let it ring for a while before lifting a hand to it numbly and taking it out. The caller display said it was Deston. He’d been checking up on Klavier almost every day since the trial; he would ring and when Klavier didn’t answer, he would visit by the office. Of course, this irritated the prosecutor immensely – he wasn’t a child. And then there was that other reason. A reason called Ema Skye.

Annoyed, Klavier pressed the reject button and placed his cell phone back in his jacket. As if Deston wasn’t annoying enough without striking up a budding friendship with the Fräulein. Whenever he came to see Klavier, Deston made sure to at least stop by her desk to talk for a minimum of 30 minutes. If she was at a crime scene, lo and behold, Deston would be there. Klavier wasn’t the only one who’d noticed the pairs camaraderie – the rest of the world had become privy to their ‘friendship’ thanks to the media. Klavier scowled as he remembered the cosy photographs he’d seen in the newspapers earlier on of the two laughing with a raging headline that had already caught half of the nation’s eye by noon. Nobody would believe the two were friends – Klavier knew them both and even he could not guarantee it was nothing more. Of course, Deston’s smile when Klavier had questioned him on the matter had not reinforced Klavier’s confidence in his claims of ‘strictly friendship’. Usually she was found at her desk or rushing around snapping at people but now… Klavier found himself searching for her regularly and his frustration at being unable to find her was not good for his already unstable blood pressure. He wasn’t jealous. He just didn’t want Deston disrupting the smooth running of his workplace – if things didn’t work out, Klavier was sure Ema would start avoiding him as well as Deston which would be quite inconvenient as he was her boss…

“Ach!”

He punched the grass. Who was he kidding? He was in love with the woman. She did nothing but run through his mind all day and tease him in his dreams at night. Ever since that night in his office, he’d woken up every night, his body wracked with desire and his mind afflicted with longing. He’d been an ass to her and he knew it but he didn’t know how to redeem himself. He’d cringed time and time again at the look on her face when he’d pulled away to answer the phone – it haunted his every waking moment even floating in and out of his dreams at times. What could he say that would explain his behaviour? How could he tell her that he had almost disrespected her? How could he explain that, in his grief, he’d almost touched her for the sake of soothing his bleeding heart rather than because she deserved to be kissed for being her? Would she even understand? No, Klavier didn’t think she would.

And so, to avoid causing her any further pain, he’d practically hidden from her. Yet, this had paved way for the very thing that was eating out his heart with jealousy – he’d given someone else a chance. A very close someone else. He didn’t know whether Deston was serious about her or not and, try as he might, he could not get an answer from the moron except for an excruciating silence and an annoying smile. If Deston was serious Klavier would step aside and let his friend make her happy – after all, he’d had his chance with her and he’d ruined it. What right did he have to interfere now? But he’d have to find out once and for all. He had to know where it was going.

But what if it wasn’t serious?

Klavier didn’t know the answer to that. Would he tell her how he felt? And what about how she felt? Would she want him? Or was she content with Deston? There were so many unanswered questions, so many what-ifs that he felt as though his head would explode. He also knew that even if she did feel something for him, she still deserved more than what he could probably give her right now. His mind was a train wreck, his emotions all over the place. He was sat under a tree, drenched brooding on the cruelty of life – what could he possibly offer her? He wanted to give her something he’d never given anyone – his heart. Except nobody wanted a ruined gift and that’s just what it was. It was filling with bitterness and anger. He wanted to give her a whole heart, pure and red not mangled and blackened.

Because of his best friend… and his brother.

The two people he should have relied on the most had betrayed him and both refused to offer him an explanation for why they had turned his world upside down and ruined life for him. Because of their betrayal, Klavier was doubting everything from his friends to himself. It was because of them he wondered if he could trust anyone anymore. It was because of them he wondered if he could trust himself to love Ema the way she deserved. It was them holding him back even now from behind bars.

Kristoph. His own brother.

When he had discovered his brother’s trial he had flown straight back to the States and the first thing he had done is visit him demanding an answer, preferably a vehement denial of the crime he was accused of. Kristoph, however, had done no such thing. With a simple smile and a raise of the eyebrow he had informed Klavier he was as guilty as the Devil and not to worry his ‘pretty little head about it’. Klavier, needless to say, was infuriated and had it been anyone else sitting in his brother’s seat, he would have punched him. Instead, years of intimidation and reminders that he was the ‘younger, less brainy Gavin’ had forced Klavier to simply leave, unsatisfied and shattered. He and his brother had never been best friends but they’d been brothers. They’d talked, dined and vacationed together. As children Kristoph had taken care of Klavier when he was bullied sometimes striking out to defend him.

It was with those hands that Kristoph had punched a hole through his chest and punctured his heart.

He pounded the ground again and shook his head vehemently. No, he thought to himself, I’m not going to go through this again with Daryan. They both made their choices, without a thought for anyone else. Why should I spare them any?

Thankfully, just then his phone rang again as if someone had sensed his need for a distraction. With a sigh of relief he yanked out his phone again but just as he hit the answer button, it stopped ringing. He checked to see who the caller was and, to his surprise, found it to be Ema. His heart skipped a beat just as it always did whenever he saw anything connected to her. This was why he loved her – because of the smile now creeping onto his face. He was about to ring back when an idea sprung into his mind. He couldn’t tell her what he felt directly but who said he couldn’t do it indirectly? So, instead of ringing back and inquiring as to the reason for the call (after all, it couldn’t be urgent otherwise she would have carried on ringing till he answered), he stood up and walked to where he’d left his hog. His favourite place may not have given him the purification he sought but it had given him a genius idea.




Everyone watched as Ema and Deston walked back into Criminal Affairs laughing and joking. There was a certain comfortableness about the pair which backed up the claims made in the newspaper and the fact that the two continued to spend so much time together despite the news was a confirmation for the masses. Ema Skye had received her share of glares and insults from crushed fan girls on the streets both when she was with and without Deston. Whenever he heard someone shout her way he defended her with gallantry she had seen in few men. Even though the comments were unwarranted as there was nothing romantic in their relationship, some of the days events had been entirely too entertaining. It was one event in particular that had the pair in stitches as they stumbled towards her desk completely oblivious to the stares of some of the staff.

Deston was trying to wipe some ice cream off himself that had been aimed at Ema but had ended up colliding with his face and hair instead when he’d moved forward. The look of horror on the girl’s face when she saw who she’d hit coupled with Deston’s blank and blinking face had been priceless – they’d both been unable to stop laughing ever since. Every time Deston stopped, Ema would set him off again and when she stopped, he’d set her off again. And so it went on and on.

“I think I just cracked a rib,” Deston gasped leaning against her desk.

“Nonsense,” Ema said through peels of laughter. “It’s scientifically impossible to crack your rib laughing.”

“Really?” Deston asked calming down then suddenly held up a finger. “No, please don’t answer that. Your answer will probably set me off again.”

Ema simply nodded and they both silenced in their mission to get their laughter under control. Deston was running his hands through his sticky hair and she looked away quickly and bit her lip to stop herself laughing. She was trying hard not to remember the way he’d frozen when the ice cream had connected with his face and the helpless manner in which he’d tried to remove it smearing it through the rest of his hair instead. She focused on her desk to clear her head of the image and found some new documents on it. There was one that seemed to catch her eye. On the top of the pile was a small note that said HS-9. Ema frowned. What was that supposed to mean? Assuming it was just a forgotten memo, she moved the pile aside making a mental note to ask if anyone had lost the note. She turned her eyes back to Deston who was grinning at her and the sight of his sticky messed hair made her laugh again and he joined in but for another reason entirely – he’d seen the note and he knew what it meant.

His plan was working.

“Ema Skye?” a voice asked and she looked up from her paperwork to see a young man looking around the office while holding a bouquet of yellow roses in his hands.

“What is it?” she said waspishly although she was sure she knew what it was. He moved toward her and handed her the flowers and packet of Snackoos.

“These are for you.”

“Er…” Before she could ask who they were from, he’d turned around and walked away and she was left with flowers in one hand and Snackoos in the other and a confused expression on her face. “Weird,” she muttered setting them both down on her desk. Who would send her roses? She focused on them and saw that they weren’t purely yellow – the ends were tipped red. Her fingers weaved through them for a card or some form of message that would let her know who they were from but found nothing. A frown on her face, she turned to the Snackoos which were also free of any labels or messages.

“Well,” she said with a shrug. “Free Snackoos. Thanks stranger.”

“You’re welcome,” a voice responded and she turned around to find Deston leaning against one of the desks, a small smile plastered on his handsome face.

“You sent these?” Ema asked returning the smile. He nodded as he approached her side and he winked.

“Do you like them?” he asked.

“They’re beautiful!” she exclaimed touching the petals. “But what are they for?”

“Just to brighten your day,” Deston said looking up from the roses at her and flashing her another smile “You’ve been so swamped with work lately, I thought you could use something to cheer you up.”

“Ugh, yeah,” Ema made a face settling into her chair. “And it doesn’t help that some idiot keeps leaving memos on my desk.”

“What kind of memos?” Deston asked curiously as he pulled a chair from one of the other desks and seating himself opposite her. Ema picked up the waste basket from the floor and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper which she opened up and showed to him. It had HS-9 scribbled on it. “Ah.”

“I’ve had about a hundred of these,” she grumbled throwing it back in. “I’ve even told the entire office that whoever is leaving these, they’re going to the wrong person but they still keep turning up!” Deston laughed at her irritation.

“What does?” Klavier’s voice interrupted and she and Deston turned to find him sauntering up to them, his thumb hitched in his belt. He was looking from one to the other with a small smile. He stopped before them and looked at Ema expectantly, waiting for an answer.

“Those number memos I keep getting,” she said waving her hand dismissively. She had already mentioned them to him. “Anyway,” she said picking up her new presents. “Look what Deston got me!”

As Klavier’s eyes landed on the roses and the Snackoos, his expression darkened and he looked at Deston instantly. “You got Fräulein Detective these?”

“Yeah,” Deston said with a smile. “Is that difficult to believe?”

“No,” Klavier said but the clipped tone of his voice was at odds with his denial. He turned to Ema. “I need you to interview Leo Cadaverini again.”

And before Ema could reply, he turned around and walked away. She glared after him. Glimmerous fop. What was his problem? Probably didn’t like that someone was getting more attention than him for once.

“Some people like to ruin someone’s day,” she grumbled and Deston chuckled. She turned to him and complained; “that’s the third time he’s asked me to interview that brute! I hate it. Cadaverini’s impossible and he’s always making these dirty innuendos.”

Deston glanced at Klavier’s retreating back before looking at Ema. “Consider it a compliment. He wouldn’t tell you to do it unless he thought you were capable of handling said brute.” Ema pouted although there was some truth to these words. “When are you planning on going?”

“I don’t know,” she replied shrugging her shoulders and setting her roses down again. “Maybe tomorrow. I’ve got so much work to do.”

Deston nodded. “I better go too, Ema. I have a few things to do myself. Enjoy your Snackoos. It was hard for me to part with them.”

She laughed. “Thanks.”

Deston inclined his head as he walked backwards and smiled at her. She watched him with a grin as he turned away and continued on until he was out of sight. She sighed and sat down at her desk again. Her eyes landed on a note that was in the middle of her desk and saw that it was the same memo. Where had this one come from!? She was half tempted to grab everyone who’d walked past in the last 5 minutes and demand to know who the culprit was. However, realising that she wouldn’t know who had actually walked by, she crumpled it up and threw it in the basket instead, where it rested with the rest of its brothers. In a snap decision, Ema picked up her handbag, the packet of Snackoos and walked towards the exit. No matter when she interviewed Leo Cadaverini, he would ruin her day – why not do it on an already crap day?



“I know what I’m doing,” Deston’s voice broke across the silence of the prison hallway unexpectedly and Ema stopped in her tracks. She frowned and looked at the door on her left from where his voice had come and found that it led to Cell Block D. She hadn’t known Deston was here but there was nothing suspicious about that – he was a member of the FBI after all. He was probably just investigating something. She herself was just leaving after having questioned Leo about his knowledge regarding a murder. She’d talk to him later – he was probably busy. So, with a shrug, Ema made to continue on while wondering if it would be considered stalking if she waited outside for him… The next voice that spoke stopped her in her tracks.

“You sure about that man?” Most of the inmates voices usually became hoarse after a while due to the lack of conversation but Daryan’s was still as smooth as ever.

“I know you’re eager for this to work Daryan, but so am I,” Deston said and Ema noticed the impatience in his tone. Her eyes wide she retraced her steps to the doorway where she leaned against it out of sight. What was going on? There was nothing strange about Deston visiting Daryan – they were friends and colleagues after all – but what was this plan they were talking about? She didn’t like the sound of Deston’s voice – it sounded secretive… sneaky.

“I need it to work, Cavatin.” Daryan sounded impatient too now. “You don't.”

“You’ve always been self-centred,” Deston said exasperatedly.

There was no reply from Daryan and Ema edged forward wondering if she could peek inside without being seen. Suddenly there was a thump and a “hey!” from Deston that would have made her jump had it not been for the fact that she was not easily surprised – one of the perks of being a detective. She tried to discern what she could from the silence but it seemed as though the two were still. She frowned willing them with her mind to say something more so she could understand what the hell they were planning – whatever it was, it didn’t sound good. And she needed to know what it was.

“Does Gavin know?” Daryan asked and had she not been so intent on making out his words, Ema would have been surprised at the solemnity of his tone.

Deston didn’t answer straight away; he snorted and this sound did surprise her. “Yeah right. You think I’m stupid? I wouldn’t tell that bastard anything if my life depended on it.”

“Just checking,” Daryan drawled. “He has a way of acting like your friend at the right time and then turning around and stabbing you in the back.”

“I know,” Deston agreed.

“I don’t wanna know what kinda crap he’d pull if he found out about – ”

“I know, Daryan,” Deston interrupted. “He won’t.”

“Gotta make sure you ain’t taken in by his sweet words, man.” Daryan laughed.

“Shut up, Crescend,” Deston replied but he was laughing too.

Ema listened as quietly as she could, barely daring to breathe as she slowly stored away the pieces of this conversation for analysis later. All sorts of thoughts were starting to run through her mind and she had to fight against them to keep it clear – she needed to gather as much information as she could now.

“What about Adagio and Aded?” Daryan asked and Ema recognised the names as the remaining Gavinners artists. “Do they…?”

“No,” Deston replied. “I haven’t told anyone and I don’t plan on doing so.”

“Good.” Daryan sounded pleased. “Adagio doesn’t know how to keep his trap shut and Aded is – ”

“Simplicity personified,” Deston finished. “I know.”

A phone beeped suddenly and Ema’s heart nearly leapt out of her throat before she realised it wasn’t hers. Reeling from the terror of the possibility that she’d been discovered, she snatched her phone out of her bag and turned it off thanking her guardian angel she hadn’t been caught out. This relief, however, didn’t last very long. Even though it hadn’t been her phone that had sounded…

“I have to go,” Deston said suddenly and Ema pushed herself away from the wall, somewhat panicked. “Tess wants to see me.”

“Tell her I …” Daryan’s voice faded off as Ema moved as swiftly and stealthily down the hallway as she could. She couldn’t risk hanging around and getting caught by Deston – she had a feeling he wouldn’t take well to it. So she kept on walking (practically running, rather) until she had wrenched open her car door, slid inside and slammed it shut behind her. Thank God she’d finally had the sense (and the courage, because it took a lot to fork out 2 grand) to finally buy a car. Otherwise who knows if she’d be able to hide from Deston? She could see him descending the steps and she ducked beneath the steering wheel. Ema knew he wouldn’t suspect her – she was a detective after all and there was nothing unusual about her visiting the prison but whether she’d be able to control her emotions right now if he saw her was another matter entirely. So she waited an appropriate length of time before peeking out over the wheel to see if he was still around and just saw him pull away in his ostentatious Maserati. Thankfully, he hadn’t seen her and Ema wasn’t going to give him a chance to. So she waited for 5 minutes. And she pondered.

It was clear that Deston and Daryan were up to something and nobody else knew about it. Nobody except her.

She needed to know more. She had to find out what the plan was. But how? Deston and Daryan were the only ones who knew what it was and she doubted either of them would tell her. She supposed she had to follow Deston around and maybe even try to find out who visited Daryan in prison aside from Deston. Perhaps there was something to be found there? But Ema knew that wouldn’t be easy. She would have to be careful following Deston around – no doubt he was accustomed to such behaviour being a servant of the law and an admired artist – not to mention she had a job which she also had to attend to. Maybe she could get someone to help her…

No, that idea was thrown right out of the window the moment it came to her. She didn’t want this getting back to Klavier. How would he take it? He was obviously barely coping with Daryan’s incarceration. Ema’s mouth turned into a downward pout as her thoughts turned to the prosecutor she had seen so little of. Granted, she barely talked with him but Ema found it impossible not to think of him every so often especially when she was Deston….

Ema’s anger began to rise at Deston. She had thought he was a good man, a good friend. But he’d turned out to be no better than Daryan. In fact he was worse than him – at least Daryan didn’t pretend to be a gentleman and a caring friend to Klavier. Deston had fooled everyone into believing he was the epitome of kindness when, really, he was the devil incarnate. It may have seemed a harsh judgement of the man especially having only heard a few lines but there had been no mistaking the scorn and hatred in Deston’s voice when he’d spoken of Klavier. And that was enough for Ema. She didn’t need any more proof that something was wrong – anybody who pretended to be a good friend while harbouring such dark hatred inside was clearly not trustworthy.

She shook her head. The discovery was taking time to sink in. She had spent the past few weeks in Deston’s company and not once had she imagined that beneath the pleasant exterior lay a wolf in hiding. It seemed that she still wasn’t wise enough. After all, hadn’t Gant been just as amiable and helpful and kind? Had they not all trusted him also? How could she, with her experience, have fallen for such an obvious cover? When had she become naïve enough to believe that such charm was genuine? She was lucky she had discovered what she had in time – now she could do something about it and maybe prevent Klavier from getting hurt…

So what should she do first? Follow Deston or go back inside and find out more about Daryan’s visitors? Maybe there was something in the video footage – after all, every cell was constantly being watched. But she could do that any time. Deston had just left and who knew where he might be going? He could lead Ema to somewhere she could find more answers…

No. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. No, she needed time to deal with this. In this state, who knew what kind of a mistake she might make? She could give herself away completely. She needed to get her emotions under control.

But what if this unprofessional behaviour cost her a valuable lead?

It was this thought that caused Ema to take a deep breath and start her car – she had been sat here for five minutes but maybe - maybe - fate would be on her side and traffic might slow him down. Hastily she pulled out of the parking lot and glared impatiently at the guard at the exit who insisted on checking her car for any convicts she might be smuggling out despite the fact that she was a detective. By the time he was done, Ema had lost all hope of being able to follow now and she cursed her own ineptitude as she pulled out on the road but Fate was on her side. For some reason, Deston had stopped a few cars ahead and had pulled up. Ema almost panicked – what could she do? She couldn’t stop because that would look too obvious and she couldn’t go on because one can't exactly follow someone behind you – but she managed to get a grip just in time and turned left. She could loop around the block until he moved – and she hoped he would move soon. This prayer, too, was answered as upon her 3 round, Deston had began to move and she pulled in just around to corner to see his car going left. She followed him all the while making sure there were at least two cars between her car and his. In her concentration, Ema almost missed a red traffic light while nearly colliding with another driver. She ignored them however because she was far too preoccupied making sure she never lost sight of Deston. It was, therefore, a little disappointing and anti-climactic when Deston stopped outside Hickfield Clinic. Ema stopped a few feet away but she watched as he got out of his car and jogged inside out of view before following after him a few minutes later.

Ema didn’t need to follow Deston himself nor did she need to ask anyone where he’d gone. All she had to do was follow the whispers and giggling of the women and the direction in which they looked for her to realise which way he was headed. A Gavinners always left behind a trail. So it didn’t take long for her to realise which room he was in. She edged forward slowly and saw the door open which made the eavesdropping that followed a hell of a lot easier.

“Thanks, Deston.” A hoarse female voice. Ema frowned – she didn’t recognise it.

“No problem, babe,” Deston said and Ema’s frown deepened at the smile she heard in it. It was an interesting contrast to the scorn and hatred she’d heard earlier. “How are you feeling today?”

“A little better,” the mystery woman replied. If she was better and she sounded this bad, Ema wondered what she must be like on a bad day.

“You look better,” Deston said.

“Thank you for the generous lie,” she laughed gently.

Ema wished she could take a look at the woman.

“It’s no lie, Tess. You always look amazing.” His voice was so genuine that for a second Ema forgot the horrible way he’d been talking about his friend.

He really is a devil.

“How’s Klavier?” mystery Tess asked and Ema edged closer to the door frame, pulled by the sound of her voice.

“Still angry,” Deston said quietly and Ema rolled her eyes at the fake sadness in his voice. She couldn’t believe she’d fallen for this…Well, she could believe it because even now hearing him talk she had a hard time reconciling this Deston with the hateful one.

“I suppose I don’t blame him. If I was in his position I would be angry too…” Tess said and Ema raised an eyebrow. Who was she and how did she know Klavier?

“If he would just see you, I think he might forgive. But before he comes to see you, you have to – ”

“No, Deston,” Tess said gently. “Not yet.”

Ema’s heart sank. What did all this mean? Was Tess… intimate with Klavier?

“I know that if he just listened to you, just once…” Deston was talking fast now and he sounded frustrated. “Tess, please let me bring him here. Just talk to him! I’m sure if you did he’d understand!”

“Or become even more angry,” Tess interrupted calmly. “We’ve been over this before, Deston.”

“But – ”

“Please,” she said quietly. “Just trust me. This is the best way.” Deston growled but said no more and Tess laughed. “Thank you, Des.” There was a sound which could have been a grunt and Tess laughed again. “You’re such a sulker, hon.”

Her laughter turned into a cough that only seemed to get worse and worse. She heard Deston rushing about inside and verbally comforting the woman while Ema listened on in silence.

She was quite shocked. First at the prison and now this. Why had she never heard of this Tessa who was clearly attached romantically to Klavier? He was so well known, how could no journalist have found out about something like this? Even at their workplace there was not even a hint of her, no picture of her on his desk, no mention of her from Klavier… Ema supposed it was because Tessa was sick. Maybe he wanted her to enjoy her peace and quiet. However, from the sound of things, it seemed as though they’d had a falling out. Ema wanted to know what it was; it made her feel somewhat… hopeful. Which was ridiculous. Why should she care? His love life was his private affair… although it did explain a lot. But they were talking again and Ema had to focus.

“How are Raoul and Seren?”

Ema frowned. Those names sounded familiar… Oh right. Raoul Adagio and Seren Aded. The other two Gavinners members. This was the second time she’d heard their names… Was it a coincidence? Ema didn’t know what to make of it.

“They’re good,” Deston answered. “They’ve been…”

Ema’s ears picked up another sound.

Footsteps.

Headed towards where she was hiding.

She looked back and forth between the exit and the door that led into Tessa’s room. What to do? If she remained standing here she’d be caught, which could blow her cover. With one last look at the exit from where the sound of the footsteps was coming from, Ema stepped forward and peeked inside the room with a knock on the door. Deston was lounging in a chair facing the woman in bed. He turned around to look at her and a bright smile lit his face as he jumped up.

“Ema!” he exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”

Ema hesitated for a split second. “I brought Phoenix in for his check up – you know, from when Meraktis almost ran him over – and I heard someone say you were in. I thought I’d say hi.”

“I’m glad you did,” he said enthusiastically laying a hand on her back and moving her forward. “I wanted you to meet Tess anyway.” He looked at Tessa with a huge smile. “This is Ema.”

“Hello Ema,” she said and smiled. Ema finally got a good look at the woman at last. Her eyes were big and blue and innocent, her golden hair cascaded around her on the pillow making her look like an angel and when she smiled, it was like the sun had risen. Ema wondered how a woman could be as ill as she obviously was and still look so amazing.

Imagine what she looks like healthy…

“I’ve heard so much about you,” Tess said holding out a hand and Ema took it in hers while raising an eyebrow at Deston.

“You have?” she asked, surprised.

“Oh yes,” Tessa said. “Des has told me all about you.” The man in question was beckoning for Ema to take a seat and she did so without a word. He, himself, leant against the wall next to her before Tessa patted the empty space near her legs. “Come sit here,” she said to him and he complied.

“I hope he’s been saying good things,” Ema said only half joking.

“Oh yes,” Tessa said. “He’s praised you to high heaven. I feel like we’re best friends already!”

Ema raised her eyebrow at him and smirked. “Well, well,” she said. “You’ll have to tell me what he said.”

“Yes, well – Ema, where’s Mr Wright? I thought you said he was with you?” Deston interrupted hastily while Tessa giggled. Ema paused.

“He met a friend and they decided to go for coffee,” she replied smoothly, quite proud of herself for her swift thinking. Deston questioned her a bit more and they all fell into easy conversation. Tessa was a sweet woman, Ema found – and that was a high compliment from the detective. She usually found women annoying at best but Tessa was so blatantly genuine and sweet it was difficult not to like her. Her and Deston appeared very close and seemed to care a great deal about one another. However, Ema was no longer taken in by Deston’s charming behaviour – she had seen what lurked beneath the pretty face. And what she had discovered was very ugly indeed.

In the loneliness of the night and the shades of the dawn, Klavier had found there was just one face before his eyes and only one scent torturing his senses – green eyes and wafts of citron on the air. It was as though someone had unleashed an invisible doppelganger on him, to haunt him, punish him for his mistake in the office that night. Every day he had to endure the sight of his friend laughing and joking with her. He had to watch in silence as Deston hugged her, took her out to… well, he didn’t know where. And when they were gone from his sight he found no reprieve; his mind took over to continue the job. He imagined the many things they did when they were alone. There was no way to know of course – Deston was old-fashioned and as such would not go beyond what he believed to be appropriate public displays of affection (a hug, a peck on the cheek, a brush of his lips against her hand) let alone even mention it. So Klavier was left with the possibilities conjured up by his imagination – and imagine he did. Deston lounging on a sofa with Ema in his arms as he brushed her hair away from her face to kiss her smiling lips…

“Ach!” Klavier sat up straight in his chair, rubbing his eyes as if someone had jabbed him in them. There was nothing he could do to stop these damned visions from infiltrating his mind and working their way down his body, sweeping through his heart like a knife, taking a piece of it for the ride to settle in his stomach where they danced around till he was ready to vomit. The fire of jealousy was consuming him, destroying him and he wondered how long it would be before he was reduced to a pile of ashes.

He sighed. Of all the women in the world, of all the girls that stalked them, why did Deston have to be interested in Ema?

Actually, Klavier figured he knew why. He supposed he had himself to blame – partly. He had, after all, been the one who told Deston all about Ema, how she was so stubborn, refusing to be impressed by his success, charm or cheesy pick-up lines. Of course these type of women appealed very much to Klavier – and Deston. The rest he blamed entirely on the Fräulein herself. She was far too attractive and endearing for her own good.

It took a lot out of Klavier not to be angry at Deston and take a swing at him for laying hands on her. Every time they touched Klavier wanted to punch him and the only thing that held him back was the fact that he’d had his chance and blown it. Deston didn’t know he was treading on Klavier’s toes – hell, even Klavier himself hadn’t known how he truly felt about her till he’d seen her with Deston. How could he blame his friend for being more of a man than he was? Instead of talking to Ema about what happened, he’d hidden away like he was back in high school.

“K?” A voice interrupted his thoughts. He looked up to find Deston standing in the doorway, an eyebrow raised and a hand in the air as if he was about to knock on the open door. “You okay?”

Klavier scowled. There was that concern he was sick of hearing in Deston’s voice. It was as though he expected him to break down any moment.

“What do you want?” he said aggressively and Deston looked surprised. And so he should be, Klavier thought. It wasn’t just the concern that was grating on his nerves nor the jealousy that he had to live with on a daily basis. There was another reason and Klavier very much wanted to hit Deston in the face for it.

“You having a hard time writing the next hit, man?” Deston asked as he dawdled up to Klavier, an eyebrow raised. “You could always ask for help from the other members of your band. You know. Like me.”

“Why did you lie to Fräulein detective about the roses?” Klavier blurted out suddenly. He hadn’t meant to say it and the realisation that he’d probably given himself away was mortifying but he wouldn’t let that show. So, with tremendous effort, he kept his face blank as he stared at Deston.

For the second time in under 5 minutes, Deston looked briefly surprised; he smiled and cocked his head to the side. “What are you talking about?”

“You didn’t send those flowers,” Klavier said standing up.

Deston leaned against the wall, his hands snaking into his pockets as he smiled. “And how do you know that?”

“It’s not your style to send unsigned stuff,” Klavier said lamely but he was unwilling to admit the truth.

“How did you know they were unsigned?” Deston said and he sounded amused now.

“I heard you,” Klavier snapped. “You are evading my question.”

“You’re right,” Deston said pushing himself away from the wall and sidling along the cabinet while examining the guitars on display. “I don’t send unsigned presents. But I told her that it was from me so at the end of the day, they weren’t really unsigned per se. But – ” he said turning around and looking at Klavier just as the latter was about to interrupt. “You’re also right in believing I didn’t buy her the roses.”

“Why – ”

“Well someone sent her roses and they weren’t signed so I figured why not take the credit?” Deston shrugged with a devilish grin. “He obviously didn’t care who she thought they were from.”

Klavier fingers curled into a fist and he wanted nothing more than to smash it into Deston’s face. The only thing that held him back was the fact that he didn’t want him knowing that he was the one who’d sent the roses to Ema… He knew he was wrong for even thinking the way he was but Ema was his. In his heart, in his mind, she was always meant to be his – he’d never imagined for a moment anybody else would whisk her away let alone his friend. He’d lived in a bubble of safety where she would be available when he finally decided he wanted a relationship.

And this thought made him sick.

It was true – he’d been an arrogant pig. He hadn’t realised her worth until it was too late and, just as he deserved, he had lost her. What added insult to injury was that he had already had his chance.

“You alright, K?” Deston’s voice broke through his thoughts and he focused on his friend. There was a frown creasing the usually smooth skin above his eyes and his head was tilted to the side.

“Yeah,” Klavier said looking around for his jacket. He needed to get out of here.

“What are you looking for?” Deston asked.

“Halt den Mund!” Klavier snarled as he stormed out of his office not caring about offending Deston, what his behaviour would look like to an already worried friend and least of all, about his jacket.



Water rushed over and around his boots, unable to move the frozen prosecutor as he stared directly at the setting star on the horizon. Many passers-by had seen him as they returned to their cars after a day out at the beach but none approached him even upon recognition. Although he had done nothing but stare out across the swaying water, there was something about his presence that screamed his desire for privacy.

To any that saw him, he was an impossibly perfect figure and to his fan girls he looked sexier than ever; his black shirt clung to the muscles that filled out his frame. His body was encased in the rays of the dying sunlight – his face glowed golden and his hair shimmered as the wind caressed it, giving him the appearance of an angel. Yes, to many he looked more beautiful than ever and they probably would have rushed to him and he would have been drowned either beneath the masses of females or the water. However, there was one thing about him now that stopped them from doing that very thing; there was something deeply unsettling about his posture – no other part of him was moving. His hands were clenched into fists and a few fancied they had seen blood drip from in between the curled fingers. What they could see of his face was blank and in the impending dimness of the twilight, the chiselled features of his handsome face looked dark in a way that had nothing to do with shadows. Were it not for the fact that nobody would set a statue of Klavier Gavin in the middle of the beach, they would have believed him to be made out of stone for nobody who loved the star and had followed his work could reconcile this man with their idol. In those moments, he was the perfect manifestation of the tragic heroes in Greek legends… doomed to be remembered for his troubles rather than his achievements.

And so, on they went, throwing furtive glances filled with excitement, longing and curiosity until the beach was deserted and the day fully gave way to night. Still, the young man remained standing in his spot, uncaring of the attention he had drawn to himself, barely feeling the dampness growing around his feet nor did he care that the setting sun had strained his eyes – there was just one thought on his mind: his own star was setting. He’d continued staring until the stars had crept across the blanket of the night to rest overhead and finally a second thought came to his numb mind: Yes… it’s gone.

Such dark emotions can never be explained – they can only be felt. And this was why Klavier spoke to nobody of the hopelessness that had engulfed him. Many would wonder what could possibly induce such a deep depression in a hugely successful man… And how could he explain to them? To those who had what he lacked, how could he explain the value of those things? Because Klavier knew human nature – nobody appreciated anything until it was gone. How could he tell them that he would give up both his careers, his royalties and his life just to undo all that he had seen over the past few months? How would those who had never experienced the loss of a brother understand him wanting Kristoph back? Good riddance, they would say. You’re better off, they would say. Who needs a brother like that? they would say. And the same would be said for Daryan; evil man! Trying to frame a child. But Klavier knew Daryan wasn’t evil. All those years he had spent with his best friend, there was no way he wouldn’t have noticed it if Daryan had truly been evil.

And then Ema. If it’s meant to be, it will be, he could hear them say sympathetically. If it isn’t then… there are other girls. You’ll find someone else and one day she’ll be lucky if you remember her name.

But there was no such release for Klavier. Not too many knew he believed that love only came once in a lifetime and it had come to claim him. He had always imagined falling in love would be passionate and strong and saturated with joy. He had always imagined himself spoiling the love of his life with gifts; jewels, vacations, clothes, food… everything. Yet, for a prosecutor, whose job it was to be sceptical, cynical, he had found himself to be the most naïve of them all. He had lost his brother and best friend – and he suspected it had happened long before their trials and incarceration. And now he had lost the woman he loved to another friend.

So what did a man live for after losing all that?

The answer came to him, unhindered, unprecedented; he lived to die.

There was no change in his expression, no break in the rhythm of his breath – his mind accepted this realisation with the serenity of one who had been told it would rain. The only change that came was in his movement. His hands unclenched and he looked up into the sky with a wry smile wondering if his mother was looking at him right now. He rarely thought of her, mostly because it was too painful, but what was pain now? It would soon be over anyway. Why not spend a few moments to recall the green sparkle of her eyes when she would smile at him with the maternal love radiating from her in abundance? Why not close his eyes and imagine she was wrapping her arms around him again in a bid to absorb some of his hurt? Adelita Gavin’s son moved forward as the silence of the sea called his name. He didn’t know if he would see his mother again… he had been raised believing there was no place in heaven for people like him. Then again, would he have gone to heaven anyway? So with the thought of his mother, the essence of her that sprung from his imagination and memories enveloping him, he pushed himself deeper in the depths of his recollection knowing this was his last moment with her… even if it was only in his mind.

“Ich hab dich lieb, Mutti,” he murmured and the words of love that had not been spoken for years punched another hole in his battered heart. But he didn’t care and he took another step forward. It would be over soon. It would be over soon. His mind turned, for a brief moment, to the only other woman worth remembering at the perilous edge of this precipice. A smile crept onto his face as the detective’s face wavered in his minds eye and he murmured another proclamation of love, “Ich liebe dich von ganzem Herzen, Ema.” He wondered if she would miss him. He wondered if she would even care. He took another step forward. He was knee deep in the water now.

“Stop.”

And he did. Klavier frowned; he wasn’t sure if the voice was real or the desperate resonance of the coward in him that was afraid to die. When he didn’t hear it again he shrugged it off and moved forward again.

“Stop.”

He froze for a second before turning around slowly to face the owner of the voice and found a woman standing a few feet away from him where the water lapped at her bare feet. Klavier stared at her blankly; and she stared right back with a serenity that made the tranquillity of the night seem like a thunderstorm.

“May I help you?” Klavier asked hoping to sound indifferent but he was embarrassed to find his voice was unsteady. He hoped she didn’t know what he had been about to do.

She continued to look at him in silence. She wasn’t observing him or taking in his appearance. No, her eyes were fixed intently on his and they weren’t moving. Unnerved by the steadiness of her gaze, Klavier moved his eyes swiftly over her. She was tall for a woman and dark-skinned – a honey coloured complexion. Her hair was long and black framing an oval face featuring slightly defined cheekbones, plump lips and dark, dark eyes. However, stranger than her shadowy appearance was the clothing she wore – it was a white dress that hung off her, flowing in the gentle wind and contrasted against her in the most unsettling manner wrapping around slender limbs. Stranger still was his inability to put an age on her. He’d never met anyone who looked as ageless as she did and yet every time he looked into her eyes he was sure she had lived a hundred years.

At last she spoke; “Take a walk with me.”

Klavier was taken aback. He hadn’t expected such an invitation and so thrown off balance was he that he blinked for a few moments before approaching her. She had turned slightly to the side and was waiting for him, never taking her black eyes off him until he was finally by her side. “Take off your boots.”

His eyes widened in surprise but unwilling to argue with her, he complied while she waited. Finally, barefoot, he stood up and looked at her as if awaiting further instruction. She was looking ahead and when he was done, began to glide along the edges of the water and he followed suit in silence, confused and somewhat disconcerted by this strange woman.

“You’re Klavier Gavin,” she stated. With any other woman he would have probably snapped and told her he wasn’t in the mood for autographs but something about the tone of her voice told him that wasn’t what she was interested in. He didn’t reply; the way she had said it didn’t require an answer.

“You are…” she was quiet for a moment as if searching for the right word. He didn’t offer any but continued to walk by her side feeling it wasn’t his place to be suggesting anything to her. “…a symbol.”

He was stunned at the statement and he looked down into her face because although she was tall, he was taller. The look on her face was still serene but the argument that had been rolling off his tongue died behind sealed lips.

“I’ve been watching you since you first stepped into that water four hours ago.” Had it really only been that long? To Klavier it had felt like a lifetime.

“Your feet are damp.” He frowned, still not saying a word, but confused by her strange tangents. “Do they feel better now?” She sounded amused and he relaxed enough for a moment to actually feel his feet – she was right. The texture of the sand beneath his wet feet did indeed feel good.

He waited for her to talk again preparing himself for another strange remark or question but it never came. He looked at her out of the corner of his eye – she looked familiar but he was sure that, had he ever met her before, he would remember her. She was too distinctive to forget and push to the back of ones mind. There was something ethereal about her; he didn’t know whether it was the contrast of colour between her genetic make-up and the clothes or the strange depth of her eyes. Klavier couldn’t put his finger on why he couldn’t stare her in the eye and he didn’t have the courage to actually look at them long enough to figure out what it was. No matter how anxious he might have felt around her however, something told him she was not an average woman. How else could she have pulled him from the water with one word?

“You were going to make a very grave mistake, Klavier,” she said suddenly and he started. For a second he forgot that he felt he should hold his tongue around her and the fact that she knew what he’d been about to do didn’t register in his mind – anger overtook him almost instantly and he stopped.

“And what do you know of mistakes, Fräulein?” he said quietly. She had stopped a few steps ahead of him and she turned around very slowly to fix him with her sharp gaze.

“A lot,” she said calmly. “And I have learned from them – only too late.”

“We all make different mistakes,” he said looking away and out over the water again. “You don’t know what – ”

“I know what you have been going through,” she interrupted quietly and he looked at her again. She was staring out at sea too now and the moonlight reflecting off the water hit her eyes making them look more unearthly than ever. “The world knows your troubles. A fallen brother and a treacherous friend…” Something inside Klavier screamed in protest at the harsh judgement but he held his silence.

“And judging by the pain I heard in your voice, an unrequited love.” Klavier’s face flushed with embarrassment at the fact that this stranger had heard him proclaim his love for a woman who didn’t even like him. She pierced him with her gaze again. “Everyone knows you’re going through a troubled time which is why you absolutely must not take the route you were going to.”

“What…?”

“If you were an average man one who nobody known and loved only by family, friends, maybe a partner, it would be bad enough. But to do this when you are a symbol of strength and justice to so many in the world is...” She shook her head. “That would be the biggest betrayal of all.”

Klavier opened his mouth to speak but she raised a hand and cut him off.

“Your death would be a message of despair – that evil cannot be beaten. And it is not so.” Klavier wanted to argue. He wanted to say that nobody would care about his dying that some would probably even rejoice in it but something stopped him – and that something was recognition.

Recognition of the truth in her words.

“Unter schwierigen Umständen zeigt man, was in einem steckt,” she said and Klavier’s head turned so fast to face her that he was sure he’d pulled something in his neck. He barely felt it – she had repeated the very sentence his mother used to say to him when he was little; one shows what he is made of under difficult conditions. There was nothing unusual about her using the phrase, it was commonly used in his homeland. But that she had used it tonight of all nights when he had been remembering his mother…

“Did you ever read Hamlet?” she asked and he paused for a moment wishing he could keep up with her before nodding. “Do you know what caused his downfall?”

“The ghost of his vater,” Klavier said plainly. She gave a swift nod.

“The Ghost was the beginning. What really caused his downfall was his mind – he thought and thought. And when the time came for action, he’d spun so many webs of confusion in his mind that there nothing coherent left in it.”

Klavier frowned. He’d never really thought of it like that. He had always assumed that thinking was a way to organise one’s thoughts, ensuring no rash action was taken. Yet this mysterious maiden was saying otherwise… and making sense.

“Show them what real strength is, Klavier Gavin,” the woman whispered. “Don’t disappoint the ones who care for you because of the ones who have disappointed you.”

Klavier gazed at her for several long moments in which she did the same. Their eyes remained locked and it was as though some other exchange was taking place; he was thanking her with his azure pools and her black ones seemed to be accepting it.

“Thank you,” he said after a moment not content with silent gratitude. “I had…” he took a deep, unsteady breath. “Forgotten. Thank you for reminding me.” She simply inclined her head in acknowledgement. “May I ask you something?” She inclined her head again. “You mentioned mistakes…?” He didn’t go on, instead giving her the chance to pretend she didn’t understand his question and evade answering it if she chose. To his surprise, she smiled.

And it shattered his heart.

The smile reached her eyes – but not the jubilant or the kind type. This was a smile that screamed of regrets, sorrow and in the silence that followed he was sure he heard the terrifying sound of a broken heart. He almost took a step back in fear of it – to him it was at once the most terrible and beautiful thing he had ever seen. In her smile he saw so many things he had never even dreamed of or imagined and he wondered what she had been through to be able to summon a smile like that. Did he really want to know?

“I made many mistakes, Klavier,” she murmured the smile still lingering on her lips. “Nothing I can do now will undo the consequences of my actions.”

“Es tut mir Leid,” he muttered.

“Don’t be,” she said kindly. She approached him and laid a hand on his cheek. He was taken aback by the soft and cool feel of her fingers on his skin. “Go back to the battlefield and fight. Go back to her.”

Her hand on his cheek coupled with her words had suddenly made him more emotional than he had ever allowed himself to be in someone else’s company. His entire being softened and he swallowed before whispering, “Danke schön.”

“In der Liebe und im Krieg ist alles erlaubt, Klavier.” She stepped back. “Fight.”

He nodded and looked at his feet as he always had done as a child when his mother had kindly reprimanded him. He was about to say something, anything to fill the silence, express his gratitude to the woman silently stood before him but his phone rang and he cursed. He took it out of his pocket and glanced at her with an apologetic look. She gave him an understanding smile and another tilt of the head before he turned away and answered his phone.

“Ja,” he said and he was pleasantly surprised to hear his own professional tone of voice had returned leaving no hint of the past few hours.

“Where the hell have you been, Gavin?” he smiled as he imagined the scowl that would accompany Ema’s words.

“I have been, ah… preoccupied.”

“Hmph. Deston wants to talk to you.”

Klavier would have felt an overwhelming sense of anger at the fact that they were together – again – but he felt only a slight twinge of jealousy now. He felt reborn, rejuvenated. He felt ready to fight.

“Whatever Deston is wanting you can say to me too, Fräulein detective,” he said teasingly.

“Oh fine, wait a minute,” she snapped and he smiled as he heard her say something to someone – no doubt Deston – on the other end before speaking again. “There’s been a murder. We need you at the crime scene.”

“Where?”

“I’ll message you the details, I have to go,” she answered briskly.

“Danke. I will be there as soon as possible, Fräulein.”

“Good. Make sure you are, Gavin.” And she hung up on him before he could reply. Chuckling, he put his cell phone back in his pockets and turned around. “Fräulein, do you nee – ”

His companion was nowhere to be found. He scanned the beach for her, surely she couldn’t have managed to walk far in such a short time, but found it deserted. He frowned and spun towards the sea hoping against hope she hadn’t walked into the water for some strange reason but nothing – the water seemed undisturbed.

Where had she gone?

He scanned his surroundings a few more times but when he found nothing he made his way back to where he’d left his hog looking over his shoulder every so often expecting her to suddenly reappear by his side. As he straightened his motorbike and mounted it he felt an overwhelming sense of loss – as if he was losing a life-long friend. With a start as shocking and sudden as the sound of his bike when it roared to life, he realised that she had saved his life - and he didn't even know her name.





I’ll give you guys a translation of the German in this:-

Halt den Mund - Shut up (don't be going around saying this to poor unsuspecting people, will you Edgey =P)

Ich hab dich lieb, Mutti - I love you, Mom

Vater - Father

Es tut mir Leid - I am sorry

Ich liebe dich von ganzem Herzen! - I love you with all my heart

Unter schwierigen Umständen zeigt man, was in einem steckt - One shows what he is made of under difficult conditions

In der Liebe und im Krieg ist alles erlaubt - all is fair in love and war

Ema was eyeing the forensic experts enviously as they delicately sifted through the flat looking for the vital evidence that would prove the suspect guilty. Her hands were itching to pull out her Luminol and fingerprinting powder from her bag and jump among the elite team when she heard her name called…which was just as well. She didn’t think she could have lived down the inevitable humiliation of rejection that she would no doubt suffer at her attempt. She looked over her shoulder to find Phoenix Wright with his hands in his pockets and a hint of a smile on his lips.

“Mr Wr – I mean, Phoenix!” Ema exclaimed and hurried toward him. “What are you doing here?”

“…I heard there was a murder. Wondered if anyone needed an attorney. Apollo has a lot of time on his hands.” His eyes seemed to take on a far away look as if he was mulling over something. “Too much time, I think.”

“Um…” Ema glanced over her shoulder at the forensics again. “I shouldn’t really say anything but…” Phoenix waited patiently as she chewed on her lip. “We’re pretty sure the suspect is guilty.”

“I’ve heard that before,” he said, amused.

“Well,” Ema said throwing one more look behind her and leaned towards him. “The victim – Landon – is a 21 year old who was having an affair with the suspect’s girlfriend. After murdering her lover, Gerard turned on his partner – Caz – and attacked her.”

“Uh huh.” Phoenix nodded for her to continue.

“But something made him stop before he could outright kill her. We suspect it was the fact that she was pregnant. However, she has suffered from the attack and is currently in hospital. There’s a possibility she might lose the child. She’s named him the murderer and the evidence matches her testimony.”

Phoenix was quiet for a moment and then he sighed. “Sounds pretty definite to me.” He looked around the crime scene. “Ah well. If Apollo can’t work then I suppose Trucy and I will have to find some other way to pay the rent...”

She looked away at the cops crawling all over the place so that he wouldn’t see the pity in her eyes. She didn’t think he would take well to it. He acted nonchalant all the time but Ema was certain that beneath the casual appearance, he was more devastated than anyone imagined. However, it was a moment later that the words fully registered and the pity in her eyes was replaced with amusement.

“You have Apollo paying for the rent now?” She asked.

“He’s a part of the agency,” Phoenix said vaguely. Ema wasn’t fooled – she hadn’t missed the implication and she was sure that Apollo was doing more paying than the other two.

“I’ll let you know of any other cases that might crop up,” she promised.

“Ah… Thanks, Ema.” Phoenix smiled.

“You’re welcome Mr –” She stopped and sighed looking at the ground. “That’s going to take some getting used to.”

Phoenix chuckled. “So I see. You know for a moment there, I could have sworn you were 16 again.” When Ema frowned in confused he explained, “You always had a habit of looking at the ground when you were upset.”

“I did?” Ema said with wide eyes.

“Yep.” Phoenix smiled. “Like someone else I know. I haven’t seen her in a while either…” He looked off into the distance again and Ema was sure he was reliving some memory that involved this ‘someone else’. She was going to enquire further but he spoke again and all thoughts were driven out of her mind. “Where’s our prosecuting legend? He’s usually at the crime scenes isn’t he?”

Ema scowled. “He’s probably off somewhere signing autographs.” She pouted like she always did when she was displeased. “I did tell him to come but that was an hour ago…”

Phoenix didn’t reply straight away; he was watching her with a curious expression she couldn’t immediately identify and before she had a chance to try, it was gone. “How is he doing?”

Ema’s expression softened as she recalled her boss. She hadn’t forgotten that Phoenix had told her to be there for Klavier and she had tried but after his reaction to her aid, she had been very reluctant to try again. That night in his office flashed in her mind. She had her pride after all and… well, he didn’t seem to want her help obviously. He’d gone out of his way to avoid her. What could she do about that? So she could answer Phoenix confidently; “Um yeah he’s…” couldn’t she? “...he’s all right I guess. I…” she took a deep breath. “…don't really see him much.”

Phoenix was silent and although she was looking away she could feel his eyes burning holes in her. She cringed inwardly at the possibility that he might be displeased with her. He had, after all, told her to be a friend to Klavier and she had barely tried – this was a fact that had become abundantly clear over the past few weeks. She had spent a lot of time around Deston but in her periphery she had also been watching Klavier… there was a lonely aura that accompanied him at all times but she just didn’t know how to break through it. At first she had thought to speak to Deston about it but after she had overheard what she did at the prison, there had been no chance of that. Ever since then, she had remained closer than ever to Deston in order to find out what he was up to. He pretended he was interested in her (and for a while, she had almost fallen for it) and yet he’d never really asked her out on a real date - she knew he was playing with her.

And she let him.

She had even accepted his hugs, his kisses and general charm to keep him nearby and for all the repulsion she bore every time he touched her, she had thought she would at least be rewarded with some nugget of a clue bringing her one step closer to the truth behind the infamous plan.

But nothing.

She had followed him, eavesdropped on every one of his conversation she could. She had visited Tessa at the hospital again and the only thing she had learned was from a promise Tessa had extracted from Ema; “Please don’t mention me to Klavier. He doesn’t know I’m ill.” Of course, Ema had obliged and yet she wondered why Klavier, with all his minions, resources and general knowledge, did not know Tessa was in hospital. It was further obvious from this promise, Ema thought, that the two had history and that she didn’t want him to know of her illness (of which Ema also knew nothing because Tess refused to talk about it) to save him from further pain. Ema respected Tessa’s thoughtfulness – despite the fact that she was clearly not getting any better, she was still worrying about someone else’s feelings. Ema could understand why Klavier didn’t want anyone else after having been with a woman like that.

Upon meeting Tess, Ema had thought a lot about what the relationship between her and Klavier was and given the facts it became pretty obvious. They must have been in love, broken up for whatever reason and Klavier hadn’t fully recovered from it – that was why he couldn’t even look at Ema. In spite of this fact, Ema couldn’t bring herself to feel any resentment toward her newest friend. She had few of those and the close ones she did have were males so it was nice to finally find a woman with whom she could get on with. Even if that woman was the reason why the guy she had a crush on didn’t want her…

“I see him,” Phoenix suddenly interrupted her thoughts and her eyes snapped back to his.

“I’m sorry – what?” Ema blinked in confusion at him but he simply nodded toward something he was looking at over her head. She spun on the spot to see someone who looked very much like Klavier… wait, it was him. Ema’s eyes widened. He wasn’t wearing the jacket that normally adorned him and he looked… strange. Ema couldn’t quite put her finger on it but he looked changed – beyond the lack of jacket. He looked more handsome than she’d ever seen him. The black shirt hugged his body tightly and she saw the (impressive) build of his chest.

But it was more than that. He was smiling as he sauntered up to her and, for the first time in weeks, it looked…genuine. For the first time in what felt like forever, his hands weren’t clenched into fists. No, one was swinging carelessly by his side while the other was hitched in his belt again and when he stopped before her, she saw the twinkle in his eye she hadn’t even really noticed had been absent until just now.

“Fräulein detective,” he said with a small smile as he looked down at her. “Am I late?”

Ema was speechless. She hadn't seen this side of him since before the trial and she had never seem him less than perfect - his hair had always been immaculately styled, he was always dressed to show off and... Well, he was always presentable. Now however he looked ruffled as if he'd just got out of bed...

Ema scowled. So that's where he's been. The good for nothing –

"Fraulein?" Klavier smiled at her bending down to look into her face. This movement, of course, annoyed her even more.

"What?" she said bad temperedly. "Yes you are late you fop."

He chuckled and his eyes twinkled mischievously. “How late?”

“Oh shut up,” Ema said stepping away from him and closer to Phoenix. It was then that Klavier looked at him and his expression cooled considerably.

“Herr Wright,” he said inclining his head.

“Klavier,” Phoenix smiled at him. “How are you?”

“Rocking,” Klavier said shortly. Ema’s eyes narrowed as she studied the look upon his face. There was something deeply unsettling about Klavier wearing an expression of such intense dislike especially for a man Ema held in the highest esteem. She wanted to grab him and shake him and scream to him that the man he hated was no criminal, that he was framed and that he was looking out for Klavier and, as such, did not deserve this disgust. For a split second of meanness, Ema want to run to Deston and tell him she wanted in on whatever plan he had for Klavier…

“Oh!”

Both men broke their staring competition to look at Ema whose hand had flown to her mouth as if she had discovered the answer to a very befuddling question that had been dancing right in front of her face all along. Of course! Why hadn’t she thought of that before!? It was so simple and so brilliant! And it would be so easy to execute because of her –

“Fräulein?” Klavier said quizzically and she frowned at him, annoyed at the interruption. Before she could snap at him and resume her ingenious plan-making, however, someone else interrupted her.

“Mr Wright!” Deston exclaimed as he walked into the dimly lit room they were all standing in. Against the gloominess of the décor, he looked brighter than ever in his yellow suit. “I was just thinking of calling you. I’m glad you’re here.”

“Mr Cavatin,” Phoenix said with a smile. “How are you?”

“As good as can be at a crime scene, Mr Wright,” he said shrugging. He glanced at Klavier. “You look like shit, K. But I'm glad you finally decided to join us.”

To Ema’s surprise, Klavier laughed and playfully punched the other Gavinner. She saw Deston’s eyes widen too and, judging from the lack of a reciprocal response, he’d obviously noticed the change in Klavier as well. This reassured Ema - at least she wasn’t imagining things.

“…Why were you looking for me, Mr Cavatin?” Phoenix broke the somewhat shocked silence. Klavier’s amused expression heightened as Ema and Deston both almost jumped at the sound of Phoenix’s voice. Deston was the first to recover.

“Actually, someone else is looking for you. I just offered my help,” Deston smiled and, despite her dislike for him, Ema had to admire him for his immediate composure.

“Who might that be?” Phoenix tilted his head back, curious.

“Detective Gumshoe.” Deston’s smile broadened.

“Gumshoe?” Phoenix echoed and the surprise was evident in his voice. The sound was alien to Ema – she’d been under the impression that nothing surprised him anymore. “Why would he be looking for me here? And I thought he was on paternity leave?”

“He is,” Deston nodded and then he laughed. “As for why he was looking for you here... well, his argument was ‘wherever there’s something wrong, is where Mr Wright is, pal!” Deston’s Gumshoe impression was so shockingly uncanny that they all started laughing uproariously.

“But he knows I’m not longer an attorney!” Phoenix chuckled.

“When I reminded him of that, he said,” (here Deston’s shoulders rose and his face morphed into an indignant/angry expression) “Yeah, so what! He doesn’t need a badge to go looking for trouble, pal! Trouble always finds him!”

Ema giggled and for a moment she forgot all her worries about Klavier’s mental state of mind, her pity for Phoenix’s current state and the fact that the newest friend she’d made was actually in cahoots with a man who’d tried to frame a 14 year old child for a murder he had committed. For a moment, she felt carefree enough to loosen her usually tight hold on the strap of her bag, to find reprieve from the desire to pull out her stress-killing Snackoos and just be herself. It had been a long time since she’d been that way. Her years away from her sister, in a new country and studying something as time consuming as Forensic Sciences had made her permanently uptight. She rarely had a moment to herself in which she could just unwind, think of the good things in life and indulge herself. To top off an already hectic past, she’d jumped into Criminal Affairs as a detective and therefore had further stress to cope with. So it was nice when, at times like these, she could just forget everything. Unfortunately, the moment was just that – a moment. Instantly, reality grabbed her around the ankles to pull her unceremoniously back down to Earth where trust was a commodity too precious to give to anyone.

“–a chance the baby is injured,” Deston was saying.

“We can prosecute him for transferred malice then,” Klavier said and Ema frowned as she focused on the conversation in an attempt to understand what they were discussing. “As well as murder, attempted murder and GBH. Put him away for a long time.”

“Ema,” Deston said turning to her and her eyes snapped to his. “You can go home now. I think we’re about done here and you look shattered.” He leaned in and kissed her cheek and it took all her will power to refrain from recoiling. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Come Fräulein,” Klavier chipped in. “I’ll take you home.”

“You do that, K.” Deston agreed as he and Mr Wright headed off towards one of the doors. “Make sure you take care of her.”

“Achtung!" Klavier frowned at Deston as though he'd found his request offensive. "Of course I will."

Then she found herself in the room alone with Klavier whose eyes were twinkling once again. Feeling apprehensive as to what that look could mean, she turned to scurry out of the room only to find him hot on her heels as she descended the claustrophobic staircase of the building.

“I’m fine, I can make my own way home.” Ema was anxious to be alone so that she could collect her thoughts and fine-tune the plan that she had thought of.

“Nein Fräulein,” Klavier said good-naturedly as he followed her casually. “What sort of a man would I be if I let you walk home at night unprotected and unaccompanied?”

“I’m a detective,” Ema insisted pushing the door open and stepping out onto the darkened street. “I carry a gun. I think I can take care of myself.”

“Ja, but why take the risk when there is no need?” Klavier was by her side, his eyes fixed on her while she looked at everything but him. “Come, my hog is just down th – ”

“Uh uh!” Ema rounded on him. “No way, José! I’m not getting on any bike!” She wasn’t scared of bikes. It was the thought of the proximity riding with him would ensure that motivated this rejection. She blushed as he studied her, hoping he wouldn’t catch on to why she was refusing. To her surprise, he nodded.

“We will walk then.”

“I sai – ”

“Fräulein,” Klavier interrupted holding up a hand. “Let’s not spend any more time arguing when we both how what the result will be, ja?” Ema glared at him before spinning on her heel and marching off down the road with Klavier chuckling behind her. For the first 10 blissful minutes, Ema was gifted with silence and she almost fooled herself into imagining he wasn’t there. Alas, 10 minutes proved to be too long a time for the prosecutor.

“Fräulein, do you know that the coat makes you look…” he trailed off and much to her annoyance Ema found herself wanting to know the rest of that sentence. She didn’t say anything however and took a hard right straight into People Park where she walked swiftly and silently across the grass. “…sexy.”

She stumbled. “What?”

Klavier stopped just short of bumping into her. Where most men would have ran for their lives (for her expression was fearsome to behold), he smiled and repeated himself. With a German accent.

“Sexy. Attraktiv.”

Ema stared at him, her mouth wide open. Maybe her and Deston had misunderstood the change in Klavier – he wasn’t better. He was worse! The few marbles he’d managed to hold on to had finally rolled away from him.

“Have you taken any illegal substances?” she demanded. “Because if you have, I’ll arrest you right now.”

“Maybe just one,” Klavier murmured as he stepped closer and Ema stepped back. “It is not illegal but… it probably should be.” He took another step toward her and she took another one back. “It is to be blamed for loss of sanity, impulsive behaviour…” He moved closer still and in her bid to get as far away from him as she could, Ema found her back pressed against something hard and bumpy as his body moved in to make contact with hers. One hand rested gently on her waist while the other moved to brush the hair out of her wide eyes. “Even murder.” He leaned in and she felt his cool breath fan her face. His lips were close enough to touch her skin and through the thin fabric of his shirt, she could feel the hardness of his chest as it brushed against her. She shivered. “Do you know what it is, fräulein?”

“Er… t-tri-trinitrotoluene?” she stammered. What?! What the hell are you saying?!?!?? Push him away and RUN!!

Klavier chuckled. “Nein.” His fingers ran down her cheek and tapped her lips gently. “When you partake, you will know the answer.” He stared at her, his blue eyes scanning her face as if searching for something and then he sighed and stepped away from her. Ema stayed where she was for several seconds simply staring at him, unable to understand what had just happened. Why couldn’t he be normal!? She was afraid to move just in case he decided to attack her again in some strange way. The guy needed help. How could he stand there and stare at her like that!? What was wrong with him!??

“Let’s go, Fräulein.” He smiled and sauntered past her. She remained still for another nanosecond before her eyes narrowed and she finally gathered the courage to move from her spot. She caught up to him in no time but she didn’t stop – instead she sped right past him in her haste to get to the safety of her home where no lunatics could corner her and offer her unwanted kisses or riddles. He tried speaking to her a few times but she outright ignored him, pretending he wasn’t there and hoping he would take the hint, lose interest and get lost!!

When she reached her apartment building, a deep sigh of relief escaped her. She was practically running now and just as she made to open her door and escape inside (still pretending she was not being stalked), a hand yanked on her wrist and she found herself pulled backward into a pair of familiar arms. She looked up at him to find the smile gone from his face. His eyes were two intense orbs of icy fire and her breath caught in her throat. Silently, he placed a kiss on her forehead and whispered something she didn’t catch before letting her go.

“Gute nacht, meine liebe.” Confusion overtook her as he turned away and walked off. The air grew chilly suddenly and the night seemed to envelop him, his hair riding the wind and in that instant, Ema knew something had definitely changed. Her mind was blank as she watched him walk back the way they’d come and when she saw the way nature's element whipped his clothes around him, while unable to affect his stride, he looked stronger than ever before. His retreating back was proud and straight, his walk sure and steady and his head was held high. He didn’t look back once and he didn’t stop.

It wasn’t until he was out of sight that Ema regained some piece of her mind; enough for her to race inside, up the stairs and fumble with the keys as she attempted to unlock her door. She practically jumped over the threshold and slammed the door behind her leaning against it as she took deep lungfuls of air, holding a hand to her chest in a bid to stop her pounding heart from breaking through the barrier.

It was a long time before Ema felt calm enough to move without collapsing. She didn’t understand what she was feeling – was it fear? Elation? Or something else? She didn’t care right now. She would work through it when she was strong enough to deal with it. So she crawled into bed and hid under her covers hoping to find some peace… but every time she tried, there was an image that haunted her – the sight of Klavier walking away from her. He had looked so formidable, like a soldier marching onto the battlefield with the intent to survive. There was one thought on Ema’s mind as she was dressed by the garments of sleep… What war had she just gotten herself into?

“You should probably look in the Records Room,” Raoul advised a very irritated Klavier who was bent over the papers strewn across his desk as he tried to make sense of the reports left for him. He was supposed to be preparing for the State vs Gerard case but his mind was a scattered mess. He was thinking about Ema, Kristoph, Daryan and his mysterious saviour who had disappeared on him and then his mind was on Ema again. With all these thoughts and consequent emotions plaguing him, he was finding it difficult to focus on an already difficult case.

“I hate transferred malice charges,” Klavier groaned. “And the doctor isn’t making this any easier.”

“How is the good doctor doing that?” Raoul asked idly.

“He keeps telling me there is no way to know if there has been some damage to the child.” Klavier shook his head. “I know it to be a lie, of course. I have had dealings with this man before. He is a lazy Dummkopf.”

“So, threaten to have him arrested for obstruction of justice or something,” Raoul said dismissively while examining his fingernails. Klavier had gotten used to the man’s narcissism but at times like these when he was already annoyed, Raoul’s behaviour only served to aggravate him further. “Anyway, you’re already prosecutin’ the dude for murder, why you killin’ yourself over this?”

“Because I want to put him away for as long as possible!” Klavier snapped. “He is a madman and I wan – ”

His rant was interrupted by a knock on the door and Raoul sighed in relief. He wasn’t in the mood for a dose of the Klavier ‘goodness’. The prosecutor stopped mid-sentence to call for the knocker to enter. And she did. Klavier’s entire being began to tingle as Ema opened the door slightly, peeking in, before freezing upon seeing Raoul in the room. Klavier managed, with some difficulty, to take his mind off her luscious features long enough to notice her reaction to the Gavinners bassist. He watched (with some envy) her eyes skim over him (wishing she would do the same to him), from the immaculately styled red hair falling over one green eye and cascading down his back to the jewellery in his ears, fingers and wrapped around his wrists. The critical look in her gaze as she saw the scarf falling across the tight, black blazer was nothing compared to the way her eyes widened when her examination extended to his lower half. His legs were resting on one of Klavier’s speakers (much to his chagrin) and the look on her face when she saw the black leather pants he wore had Klavier smirking. He had been wanting to see her reaction to Raoul up close for some time and he was not disappointed. Klavier only wished he could hear her exact thoughts.

“Fräulein,” he said, his lips twitching. “How might I help you?”

Her eyes snapped to him and stronger men than him would not have been able to prevent the wide smile that spread across his lips. When her gaze met his, a blush crept over the divine skin of her cheeks.

“I’ll come back later,” she said and quickly tried to shut the door but Klavier was having none of that.

“Fräulein!” he called out and when the door remained slightly ajar and he got no response, disappointment flooded through him. Then, the door re-opened and Ema walked into the office with apparent determination and the smile was back on his face.

“Yes?”

“Why did you come, Fräulein Detective?” he asked, his twinkling eyes fixed on her.

Ema scowled. “You told me you wanted to see me.”

“I did?” he frowned, trying to remember when he had said that and what he’d have wanted.

“Yes,” Ema’s scowl deepened. “This morning. You walked by my desk and said you wanted to see me.”

And then it dawned on him. Yes, he remembered that. How could he have forgotten? He had indeed wanted to see her and on a whim as he passed her on his way to his office he’d said as much, figuring he’d find an excuse for calling her to him. Then Raoul had paid him an unexpected visit and he’d been busy with him ever since so he had forgotten his need to find an appropriate excuse for summoning her.

“Zur Hölle damit!” he muttered under his breath. Why had she not come before? Or rather, why had Raoul come now, today?

“He’s havin’ one of them moments,” Raoul said and Klavier’s attention transferred to him. He’d forgotten his friend was still here. He was annoyed to find the red-head looking at him with a raised eyebrow. Double damn it, he thought. In a bid to find the time to think of a reason for why he called her to his office, Klavier gestured toward Raoul absent-mindedly and said,

“Raoul Adagio. Raoul, this is Fräulein Ema Skye.”

“You’ve probably heard of me, betty,” Raoul drawled and Klavier’s head snapped up, eyes widening as Ema’s narrowed.

“My name,” Ema hissed, glaring daggers at Raoul, “is Ema.”

Klavier’s fist covered his mouth and he coughed discreetly to mask the laughter bursting forth from his lips. He was sure that Raoul had now become the number 1 fop in Ema’s book. The unfazed look on his face seemed to aggravate Ema beyond words because she turned her back to him and glared at Klavier.

“What. Did. You. Call. Me. For?” she ground out.

The precious few minutes he’d had as Raoul annoyed her should have provided him with a reason to give to her but because of the enjoyment of the spectacle before him, he’d still not thought of anything. However, years of prosecuting had taught him to find a way to remain calm and improvise. He glanced down at the reports on his desk before looking back up at her.

“I need an update on the condition of Fräulein Caz,” he said smoothly. He was prepared for the glower that she threw his way.

“I did that yesterday.”

“I know,” he gave her a friendly smile. “I wish for an update today also.”

“Can’t you send someone else?” she complained. “I have so much paperwo – ”

“I do not trust anyone to do the job like you,” he winked. Then, as if his body had a life of its own, as if it had forgotten that Raoul was still sat not two feet away and would get a kick out of the slightest mishap in this situation, he stood up and moved around his desk slowly advancing on her. Her eyes were wide again and he decided that he liked this expression on her. It allowed him to see her features in their entirety without being distorted by some frown or scowl. He felt a sudden sense of déjà vue as she took a step back for every step he took forward. “Please,” he said quietly, staring into her emerald depths. “I would… appreciate it.”

She gulped visibly and nodded before turning around without a word and fled. Klavier stared at the door (which she had left wide open) for a few minutes after she disappeared, breathing in the citrus scent she had left behind. He longed to follow after her, to trace her steps every second of the day. He wanted to make her look at him with those eyes, he wanted her to smile at him with those lips, to touch him with those hands… He sighed. He knew he couldn’t. Harassment and stalking was banned in all states. So he turned around and headed back to his desk where he fell into his chair. He cleared his throat and looked at his documents again – he had just remembered Raoul was still watching him and given his nature, if Klavier showed the slightest sign of embarrassment, the man would be all over him.

“That’s one breezy woman,” Raoul said when he realised Klavier was not likely to show any weakness. “She looks better than in those tabloid shots with Des.”

Klavier frowned. He didn’t like to be reminded of her relationship status nor did he like the idea of Raoul’s attention turned to Ema. On the other hand, Ema’s opinion of Raoul was clearly not too great so he had nothing to fear. The competition, as far as he was aware, was only Deston. And he was more than enough; Klavier could not find it in him to think of Deston as competition without some measure of guilt. After all, Deston was his friend and he was a good one at that too. He’d always been there for Klavier when he was down. The thought had crossed Klavier’s mind that he should not interfere with the relationship – Ema clearly wanted to be with Deston. But then he remembered what he had been told – all is fair in love and war. Deston had not asked Klavier if he felt anything for Ema and by doing so, had left the path open to war.

“Yo!” Raoul’s irritated voice cut into his thoughts and he looked at him. “What planet you on, dude?”

“Sorry,” Klavier muttered shuffling papers around. “I am just confused as to how to approach this case if the Doktor will not cooperate.”

Raoul sighed and the sound was irritated. “Didn’t I tell ya to go to the records room?” He stood up and readjusted his scarf around his neck. “So glad we got ta spend some quality time together.” He flicked his earring. “Arrivederci.”

“Ja,” Klavier muttered absent-mindedly. “Rock… Hey!” he said suddenly and Raoul stopped at the door. “Where is Deston?”

The bassist shrugged and the words he shot over his shoulder as he exited left Klavier scowling; “Last I checked, he wasn’t my boyfriend, dude.”

Klavier threw down his pen and leaned back in his chair. His mind was whirring again. He wondered where Deston was now – ever since he and Ema became an item, Klavier had spent a lot of time thinking about what Deston was doing because wherever Deston was, Ema could be found too. At first, Klavier had thought it was just Deston doing the following around but recently, Klavier had seen Ema do the same. It irritated him to no end but what could he do about it really? He tried to look at it positively; if he knew where Deston was he would know where she was and so he had more opportunities to try and seduce Ema and win her over. As he had the other night…

As was often the case when he thought of her, a smile tugged at his lips when his mind’s eye zeroed in on the memory. He could still recall with perfect clarity, the warmth of her body as he had trapped her between the tree and himself. And when he had grabbed her arm, his fingers had brushed against the skin of her wrist and the electric current that rushed through him at the contact would have immobilised him had it not been for the fact that he had been hell-bent on enveloping her with his arms. The look of shock that had passed over her face had only served to enhance already luscious features. It had taken all his power not to ravish her lips with his; he knew that would have scared her off not to mention she probably wouldn’t have been too impressed if he betrayed his friend. Kissing her forehead wasn’t the best testament to his loyalty either but he hoped that she would somehow overlook it. In the meantime, he had to find a way to keep himself busy, to somehow refrain from doing something that would ruin his plan. Aside from that, he had to find something to prevent less pleasant thoughts from entering his mind… like Daryan and Kristoph.

Ignoring Kristoph’s shameful incarceration had become a little easier with time but Daryan’s betrayal had brought it all screaming back and Klavier had found himself thinking about his brother more and more. There was one universal question under which all the other questions festered; why? Why had they done it? Sometimes, for a split second of craziness or longing or anger (he didn’t know which), he had considered going to see his brother and ask him why. He imagined himself insisting that Kristoph tell the truth about his crime and his reason for it. His daydream always ended the same way – with another patronisingly calm refusal and Klavier knew that his imagination was probably a rather accurate foreshadowing of the events that would transpire. He had no hope that Kristoph would be swayed by anything his baby brother would say to him. So, eventually, he decided against this course of action, often putting him off from even trying with Daryan. He figured Daryan would say something equally irritating and Klavier didn’t need further emotional torment just as he had been saved from the depression that had been eating him alive.

As always, his thoughts turned to the woman that had saved his life. He had thought about her almost as much as Ema ever since that night at the beach. He had tried finding her except that no name, no location and nothing besides a face wasn’t enough to track one woman down out of millions. He had spent countless nights racking his brain for a way to find the nameless figure. He wanted to find her and thank her… and ask how she had disappeared within the space of 10 minutes. He had to reassure himself that she had been real and not something his mind had conjured up. The idea of her being a figment of his imagination was… excruciating. It would destroy the very foundations of his strength. He needed to find her.

This was probably not the best time, however. He had a case to prepare for and thinking about her was not conducive to its preparation. He had to keep his mental state of mind clear of these thoughts. He sighed as he pushed himself up into a sitting position and looked down at his papers again. Raoul was probably right – he should take a look in the Records room. He got up and made his way down several corridors, through the Criminal Affairs office and entered the deserted room of endless cabinets. As he examined them, he had no idea where he should start to look for transferred malice cases – they were all organised by their official case names. He wondered if he could get one of his underlings to look through them for him but the incompetence that had grown in the department of late made it highly unlikely he would have something useful on his desk in time for the trial. With a sigh frustration, Klavier pulled open a random cabinet and the sight of all the files made him groan. He was almost ready to close it and go back to his office and let the charge drop thinking he would prosecute for the other three charges when he saw one name; M. Edgeworth.

Klavier hadn’t met the man but he’d heard enough about him to know that the man had prosecuted more than his share of cases in his day and the wide range of manila folders were proof of that. Surely he had prosecuted a transferred malice case? But he couldn’t stand around here and look through them, there were simply too many, so instead he pulled out as many as his large hands could allow him and gathered them in his arms thinking he was probably going to spend the rest of the day and probably all night in his office. He made to shut the cabinet when he saw another name that caught his eye. Slowly, he settled the pile in his arms on an empty shelf nearby and pulled on the tag marked K. Gavin. He’d never thought to look into the cases his brother had taken on and he knew they were aplenty too, before and after Klavier’s move to the States. Now, however, interest nudged him to sift quickly through the folders until eventually he pulled them all out of the cabinet too. How had it never occurred to him to do this before? What if there was an answer to all of Klavier’s questions resting in between these papers? He threw it on top of the other files and, kicking the drawer close, retraced his steps to his office ignoring the looks he got from everyone on the way. It wasn’t unusual for a prosecutor to carry a pile or two out of that room but he doubted anyone had seen such a large collection of cases in one pair of arms. Nevertheless, nobody questioned him or stopped him.

Upon re-entering his office, he kicked his door behind him which would hopefully send a signal to anyone who tried disturbing him that he wanted to be left alone. He let the documents rest on his desk and seated himself while snatching a folder off the top and flipping it open. He focused on the case name (DF-3) and the pictures of the victims and the accused. Klavier didn’t recognise them but he proceeded to skim through the details. It was a murder case and seemed, to Klavier, a case like any other. There was no link to Kristoph in it except that he was the defense attorney and therefore, there was no reason for Klavier to pay attention to it. He had long forgotten that he had a defendant to prosecute tomorrow and as he reached for the next file through the inordinately unorganised stack of cases, his mind was only on finding an answer to that all consuming question. Yet after 45 minutes of browsing through them with increasing impatience to the point where he was doing little more than glancing at the pictures and the names, Klavier was ready to punch someone, preferably his brother. It was when he threw the folder in his hands towards the heap of cases that something happened that made him believe in everything from the spiritual to divine intervention. The thrown folder collided with the file on top, knocking it off and causing it to land in front of him, the sheets of paper half spilling out of their confines. Klavier’s irritated and tired eyes widened with disbelief and shock when they fixed on the pictures attached to the top of the sheet and his sharp intake of breath disturbed the silence. With tingling fingers, he pulled it towards him and his gaze drank in the features of the faces as his mind attempted to comprehend the meaning of this.

One was a picture of a man, and somewhere in the back of his mind where shock had not gripped him, Klavier thought he would be considered extremely handsome by most women. He was dark-haired, blue-eyed and worthy of any modelling agency. The other picture… was of her.

The woman who had saved him.

He had found her. He had found her in a case file. As a murder victim.

Klavier couldn’t remove his eyes from her face – she was smiling in it and the sadness and regret was still etched there, in the lines of her face, only it was not as pronounced as when she had spoken to him. Her eyes and hair looked lighter in this photo. In fact everything about her in this picture looked significantly lighter and Klavier doubted it had anything to do with the lighting. Other than that, she looked exactly the same – her eyes encompassed the same ageless wisdom he had sensed in her and there was a sincere kindness to her smile. He settled against the back of his chair, still in shock, as he absorbed the unlikelihood of this situation. How could this possibly be a coincidence? How could he have found her in a pile of folders? And a murder victim?? How could she be… dead? His mind could not grasp the idea that he might have… that he could have… that he’d met… a spirit? A ghost? A soul? He had always known there was more to life than the physical, especially given the history of the legal system and the strange cases that had passed through the courtroom and the police department’s ties to spirit mediums. However, he’d never imagined he would have ever experienced such things himself, especially so unwittingly… He closed his eyes and rubbed them before taking a deep breath and he looked at her smiling face again.

What had she done to deserve this?

And as Klavier began to read, the shock was pushed aside by anger;



Victim: Gale Rainsford
Primary Suspect: Rafael Rainsford
Known confederate(s): Kade Richards & Simon Lowes
Date of Death: Estimated, 28th November 2023. Body found 29th November 2023 by a Mr James Teeson.
Location of Death: Los Angeles, CA

Victim Full Name: Gale Lana Rainsford
Age at Death: 35
Marital Status: Single
Profession(s): Legal advisor & accomplished writer
Medical History: No known problems

Suspect Full Name: Rafael Ian Rainsford
Age at Trial: 45
Marital Status: Married
Profession(s): CEO of Cyrun™
Medical History: No known problems

Events leading to death: Reported missing on 5th May 2023 by best friend and housemate, Bianca Haynes, when Ms Rainsford did not come home or answer her phone. Ms Rainsford was last seen with Messrs Richards and Rainsford who presumably led Ms Rainsford to Mr Richards’ home whereupon the victim was held prisoner until her death.

Cause of Death: Multiple stab wounds to the abdomen.

Motive: Unknown

Outcome
Suspect: Rafael Rainsford
Plea: Not Guilty
Verdict: Guilty
Sentence: Death Penalty

Suspect: Kade Richards
Plea: Not Guilty
Verdict: Guilty
Sentence: Life Imprisonment

Suspect: Simon Lowes
Plea: Guilty
Verdict: Guilty
Sentence: 20 years imprisonment with no chance for parole

Klavier’s mind was whirring as he continued to pour over the details of the trial and the autopsy report that came with it. His jaw clenched when he read that along with the stab wounds, her body showed signs of violence and rape in the form of cuts and bruises all over her body. After this savage treatment with seemingly no motive, these animals had dumped her body on the road side to be found by whomever came across her first. And he hadn’t missed the identical surnames but there was no reference to a relationship between the two in any of the documents and Klavier refused to believe it was purely coincidental. Additionally, the Lowes’ guilty plea (supposedly because he felt remorse) made him sure there was more to this story than this report was telling him. He had to find out what it was. He had to discover what was going on. He had, to some extent, accepted that he had conversed with a spirit and many of her comments made more sense to him now than they had then. Still, a part of him was still reeling with the knowledge that he had been in the presence of something so… unbelievable. He had always believed in such things but never placed himself in a scenario where he might have to deal with it himself. And now that he had, Klavier found more drama than he had ever anticipated. Not only had she been supernatural, she was also a murder victim… and her murderer had been defended by his brother.

The rage that had been building inside of him exploded, and the desk splintered as his fist crashed down upon it, his ringed fingers coming into contact with the wood as a roar ripped through his throat, wrenched by his disbelief that his brother could defend such monsters. He had always known that Kristoph believed in the right to a fair trial but to defend such blatant criminals – no, animals – was beyond anything Klavier could have imagined. He had never thought that his brother would have defended such brutality.

But then, a memory flashed before his darkening eyes of two blond brothers bickering over their parents separation and he wondered how he hadn’t seen the signs then. How had he missed Kristoph’s nature in that conversation? And suddenly, the angry look on Kristoph’s face, as he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose with the scarred hand that always made Klavier wonder how he’d received the injury, made sense to him. How could he have ignored the warning that had laced his brother’s every word as he had blamed their mother for their parents separation and the ensuing events?

“Mr Gavin, sir?”

Klavier’s attention was now drawn to the young woman hesitating in the doorway, looking at him apprehensively. How long had she been standing there? Had she seen him? Hadn’t he shut the door for a reason!? Klavier’s anger must have been evident in his face because she mumbled something about disturbing him and that she would come back later.

“Wait,” he said, struggling to reign in his emotions. “Please, come in, Fräulein. I am sorry, my mind was elsewhere.” She paused and scanned his face as if to assess how safe it actually was to take him up on his offer. With his feelings somewhat in control, he smiled to reassure her. That seemed to do the trick as she smiled back uncertainly and took a few steps towards him. He lifted his hand to beckon her forward but hissed as pain shot through his arm. Now that he was calmer, the throbbing in his hand was more evident and he grimaced at the woman who had now frozen in her tracks. “Achtung! I fear I’ve done something to my hand.” He smiled at her sheepishly. “I should go get this checked out. I trust that whatever your business was, it was not urgent?” She shook her head. “Very well.” He stood up and moved around the table, gingerly holding his hand with the other.

“Would you like a ride, Mr Gavin, sir?” she seemed to blurt this out and then appeared to cower into herself.

“It would be most welcome, Fräulein, danke,” he smiled at her warmly and signalled for her to follow him out which she did. “I won’t be riding my hog with this arm.”

And a very enthusiastic young officer whose name he never bothered to ask led an angry, shocked and confused Klavier to the hospital.



50 minutes, 3 broken fingers and a bandaged hand later, Klavier was walking past the reception desk of the 3rd floor towards the elevators when he heard one of his fans from the clamouring crowd around him whisper something that caught his attention. They were all walking away from him in resignation (his bandaged hand meant he could no longer sign autographs, which was a relief) when he heard a girl secretly whisper to her friend that she thought she’d seen Deston in the ward above. Klavier made a sharp u-turn towards the reception desk where he turned the charm dial to full.

“Guten Morgen,” he smiled leaning on the desk as he stared into the blonde’s eyes. He knew that his German accent and speech made most women weak at the knees. “I am looking for Deston Cavatin. Is he in this hospital?”

The woman, who was trembling from the shock of being on the receiving end of his charm, nodded and pointed upwards with one unsteady finger and said, without a thought, “He’s upstairs, Mr Gavin, in Ward 3.”

Klavier flashed his best smile at her, “Danke schön, mein liebe.” He thought, as he turned away, that judging by the look on her face she was going to die of bliss.

On his way to his destination, Klavier wondered if Ema was here. He had sent her to the hospital to ask about Caz’s condition and if Deston had been here at the same time, there was no doubt she was with him now. Also considering the fact that it had been almost over two hours since he had sent her here and she hadn’t, to his knowledge, returned to the office, the logical conclusion was that she was with him. He tried to ignore the green eyed monster that rose in him and he found that he was getting better at it than before. However, given the emotional rollercoaster he’d been on today, it was more difficult than usual. He told himself that it was a good thing – this meant he would have another chance to bewitch her in one way or another.

When the sign for Ward 3 came, he turned down the corridor looking left and right for any sign of his friend. Just as he was thinking he should have asked the receptionist for the door number, he saw a tall figure in a lab coat leaning against a wall next to a door. She would have blended right in considering the place was full of doctors were it not for the fact that Klavier’s eyes were programmed to recognise her even among a hundred doctors with lab coats. It was the colour of her hair, the posture of her back, the hand on her waist… as Klavier approached her, he felt all his troubles disintegrate and he was feeling lighter than he had all day.

“Fräulein,” he said quietly and she pushed herself away from the wall and faced him with a guilty look.

“Do you mind not sneaking up on me!?” she hissed. “Why you have to – what happened to your hand!?” She cried and her hands flew towards his bandaged one. “What did you do to it?”

Trying not to show the delight he felt at her concern, Klavier merely shrugged, “Nothing to worry about, fräulein,” he flashed her a smile. “It was an accident. It will be better in no time.”

“An accident?” Ema echoed and he suddenly felt very uncomfortable at the way her eyes searched his features, as if she didn’t believe him.

“I heard Deston is here. I assume then, as you are here that he’s in there?” Klavier pointed at the door to he left of her, trying to change the subject.

“Ye – I mean, no!” Ema said, shaking her head vigorously. “He was here but he’s gone.”

Klavier’s eyebrow rose as his prosecutor senses kicked in. Ema was lying to him. But why? “Who was he visiting?”

“Er, nobody. That’s to say, he wasn’t visiting anybody here, it was down there.” She pointed vaguely towards the end of the corridor. “I don’t know who he was visiting.” Ema flushed and if Klavier hadn’t been so preoccupied trying to figure out why she was lying, he would have found her irresistibly charming.

“Then what are you doing here?” Ema’s mouth opened as he waited patiently for her to answer his question.

“I… I…” Ema gulped. “I was… looking for…” She looked left and right. “Um…” She looked back at him and he tilted his head, waiting silently. “OH ALRIGHT!!” She exploded. “He is in there!! But you can’t go in!! He’s talking and he didn’t want to be disturbed and…” She went quiet all of a sudden and turned away but not before Klavier saw the look of sadness that crossed her face. She looked upset, more upset than he had ever seen her and he didn’t like it. Gently, he lifted his good hand to her arm which he used to turn her around to face him. He placed a finger under her chin and pushed upwards lightly until she was looking up at him.

“What is it, mein liebling?” he murmured. “Why are you so forlorn?”

“I am not forlorn,” she snapped suddenly stepping away and all traces of her miserable expression were gone. “You just can’t disturb him. You can talk to him when he comes out.”

Klavier paused, confused by the sudden shift in her behaviour. She was the type to hide her emotions – he’d experienced that on several occasions. So, with a smile, he allowed her this sudden cover. “If I knock, I am sure he will not mind.” And ignoring the protests that fell from her lips and the tug on his clothes, Klavier knocked once on the door and after a second, pushed down on the handle.

And in the seconds it took for him to open the door, step inside and absorb the scene before him, he got a glimpse into the minds of those he had fought to punish since he was 17. In that one moment, Klavier Gavin finally understood the urge to kill.