Chapter Text
One of Klavier’s earliest childhood memories is of leaving home.
He was in kindergarten, a month in, having learnt the alphabet before any of his other classmates he felt on top of the world. Dressed in a bright purple T-shirt, a pair of cargo shorts and a backpack that was still a little too big for his tiny frame. He was standing at the doorway of their house waiting for Kris to finish getting ready so they could walk to school together. Kris was taking much longer than usual and it was starting to grate on his thin childish patience.
“Kris!” He shouts, kicking off his shoes, velcro because he still can’t tie a pair of laces on his own without having Kris walk him through the steps. “We’re going to be late! Come on!” Klavier with no sense of time at this age doesn’t actually know this, all he knows is that Kris never makes him wait by the door long. Born punctual. Unlike Klavier who only rushes when something excites him whether that be a cool bug or the old acoustic guitar that’s still much too large for him to play.
“Quiet down honey.” Says his mom, she was in the kitchen cleaning up their dishes from breakfast. “I’m sure Kristoph will be here soon, you just have to be patient.”
“I’m going to go check up on him.” Klavier nods to himself, “Maybe he needs help with something! I’m going to go help him.”
The stairs creak beneath his feet as he runs up them, the noise upstairs obscured by his loud steps. His lungs huff for air when he reaches the top, at this age everything is hard, his short legs only have so much energy. Fixing his lopsided glasses he continues forward at a less eccentric pace.
Klavier was suddenly very mad at Kris for having forced him to make this journey. He needed this energy for his classes, and Kris was being very rude by taking it away from him. Like the lawyers on TV Klavier needs to build a case against him, so he will legally never be able to leave Klavier alone at the door ever again.
Nodding to himself with a self assured grin on his face he marches towards Krises bedroom door.
Klavier stops just short, jumping out of skin when he hears the crash, shattering glass followed by the muffled sound of his dads voice. His heartbeat surges up to his throat, he wants to puke it out.
Dad gets mad, that's normal, sometimes when Kris and him come home he’s arguing with mom but he’s never yelled. Not like this. Klavier can’t do anything but freeze, the only thing moving being the slight quiver in his hands.
Klavier doesn’t know what his dad is shouting about, he can’t decipher any sound from the other. Much later in life Klavier will wonder why the noise of his dad’s screaming instilled such a reaction in his younger self but in the moment all he wanted to do was fade away. He wished he was at school where he was supposed to be.
“Kristoph?” His mom asked. He looked up at her and she put his hand on his shoulder but instead of it being gentle she pushes him out of the way and shoots for the door knob, twisting it and throwing it open before she even twists it fully. It slams itself against the wall, and a few months later Klavier would discover a sizable chunk in the wall right where the door hit. “Gabriel! What are you doing?” Now mom’s yelling and Klavier wishes he just stood by the door so he wouldn’t have to listen to any of this.
“Karoline, do you seriously let our son get away with this shit?” Dad gestures to the shards on the floor, “A bottle of nail polish? Seriously? Kristoph isn’t a girl.”
Kris opens his mouth, his jaw shakes as he forces the words out. It’s so unlike Kris to be afraid to voice his opinion, even in upper-secondary he seemed so unbelievable sure of himself at all times. “I was holding onto it for a friend-”
Dad grabs Krises wrist and holds it up, red blooms on his skin and despite biting down on his own lip hard enough to draw blood Kris still gasps as dad pulls on his body harsher than he can stretch it. “What are these blue chips on your fingernails then Kristoph? Did your friend paint your nails too?”
“Dad please-”
“Did she? He? I can’t even trust the people you accompany yourself with anymore.” Dad grits the words through his teeth and spits them out like the bad people Klavier sees on TV, the ones that get found out for their crimes.
“Gabriel let go of my son right now or I’m calling the cops!” His mom holds up her phone, the emergency number already typed in. All she would need to do is hit the little button on the bottom.
The police? But Klavier doesn’t want his dad to get arrested. He still hasn’t been able to stay home for Klavier’s birthday and he promised this year he would.
Tears trickle down his cheeks, he tries to clean himself up using the palm of his hand but it’s useless. They keep coming and all Klavier is doing is making himself messier.
His dad does drop Krises hand but not before stomping away and muttering something about how mom probably bought it for him and about how she always wanted a girl.
There’s a deafening silence that stretches for an indefinite amount of time. The ringing in Klavier’s ears is only interrupted by the quiet sniffles coming from Kris.
Kris tries to open his mouth to form words but all that comes out is choking sobs, much like Klavier he tries to wipe them away but the attempt is useless.
Strings of half-baked sentences fall out of his mouth only to be silenced by himself. Kris, who Klavier has never seen cry a day in his life, can only manage to say the sentence. “Why doesn’t he love me mom?” He runs up to her, tears soaking into her shirt, clutching her like dad crushed his wrist.
Now mom is crying, running a hand up and down Krises hair. It looks soothing, Klavier wishes someone would do it to him, he’s also crying, he deserves it doesn’t he?
Klavier wants to deny it the second it leaves his brother's lips. No dad did love them he just must’ve had a really bad day, sometimes Klavier gets mad when the kids at school take his favourite toys or when they sit on his spot on the carpet and pretend to be none the wiser.
Something like that must’ve happened to dad. He loved them both Klavier knows he does.
“Kris-”
“Klavier, you should head to school.” Interrupts his mom, “I’ll stay here with your brother. Besides, you're old enough to be able to get there on your own.”
He’s really not but Klavier doesn’t argue; he just nods and heads downstairs, making sure to keep his steps quiet so that the stairs don’t do so much as creak.
His mom was wrong obviously, Klavier was five, he didn’t know how to get to school by himself. He ends up lost and winds up at the police station where he explains to the officer how he couldn’t find his way to school and how his mom is going to get really angry with him because she trusted him with this one thing and he couldn’t even do it. She was taking care of his brother and Klavier was only trying to prevent her from worrying about one more thing-
They tried to make him phone one of his parents but being five Klavier could barely remember how to count past ten nevermind memorize a phone number.
He eventually got home because his teacher was worried about his unexcused absence and decided to call his parents which eventually got forwarded to the police when they both realized he either got lost or kidnapped on his walk to school.
Reuniting with them only gave them an opportunity to scold Klavier for not being as responsible as his older brother because when Kris was Klavier’s age he was able to walk to and from school without a problem and perhaps the reason Klavier wasn’t able to was because they weren’t as tough on him than they were on Kris.
Kris was silent the whole car ride back. Back to his normal self, with his nice combed hair and his clean face that’s so unlike Klavier who’s been crying for the past six hours. Though Klavier does realize that his nails have been scrubbed clean, no more chips of blue nail polish adorning them.
Camera’s flashed hot and bright in Klavier’s face, reflecting off the prescription sunglasses he wears specifically for interviews like this. He crosses his legs and tilts his head towards the woman interviewing him and flashes her the smile he uses to get his fans screaming louder than the concert speakers, to her credit she flashes a rather professional one back.
“My first memory…” He pretends to think about it, before the interview his agent gave him a list of questions they’d be going over. But Klavier’s done dozens of interviews before and knows that fans like it when they seem authentic, he did too, when he was a kid and wasn’t well versed in the showbiz. So the grin and the familiarity came easy, he never knew that as a singer he’d have to do so much acting. “Well Ms. Mera back when I lived in Germany there was this corner that I would pass everyday on my walk to school and everyday there would be this extremely talented man with a guitar playing. That was what kickstarted my love for music, I thought it was wonderful, the sounds, the way he would perform…” It wasn’t entirely a lie, there was a man near Klavier’s house who would play but to say he inspired Klavier would be dead wrong. He played folk music that Klavier found interesting but never really appreciated in his youth. What really inspired him were the rock songs on the radio but that didn’t make for a very interesting story. “I promised myself that one day I would get to his level so I could make people happy like he made me.”
“That’s really thoughtful of you Mr. Gavin, with your global success I’d say you really did achieve your younger selves dream, which not a lot can say. I think congratulations are in order, what do you all think?” She points her microphone to the audience and they all start cheering. It’s something that really never gets old, Klavier loves his fans and while some can get over zealous at times it's always nice to know that most aren’t like that.
“Ms. Mera, bitte call me Klavier. Mr. Gavin isn’t even my prosecutor title.”
“Alright, as long as you call me Kammie in return.” It’s clear how long she’s done this based on how easily she banters back.
“With pleasure.”
“Klavier, with the recent break up of your band due to the unfortunate murder that happened at your last concert your fans are dying to know, will you ever make a return to music? With a new band or perhaps a solo career?”
The clothes he was wearing were tight in all the wrong places on his body and the fingerless gloves made him want to pick at his nail beds until they were red and bleeding. He doesn’t dare rub the tiredness from his eyes either because the makeup crew would have his head for it, eyeliner artfully smudged, mascara to make his eyes pop, and concealer to hide the dark circles under his eyes. Much of his life is fake, like the stories he crafts during interviews. And while he worked hard for his body it’s near impossible to be as pretty as he is without the help of heavy styling.
There’s times, like in court, where Klavier has a serious disdain of lying. It’s unjust to allow guilty people to walk free and to lock the innocent behind bars. And perjury wasn’t treated as seriously here as it ought to be. But this wasn’t court. It was a silly TV interview that will make its rounds around social media for a little while before eventually dying down so the lie comes easy.
“We’re just going to have to wait and see Kammie.” Then he grins at the audience, “As soon as inspiration strikes you’ll all be the first to know!”
The camera’s cut soon after and he shakes hands with Kammie thanking her for letting him be on her show and she thanks him in return for coming. It’s an easy exchange, Klavier leaves knowing that he didn’t mess up his agents and managers reputation with this company.
A frown pulls at his red glossy lips as he gets into his car.
Klavier looks good. He knows he looks good. He should be going to a club tonight or a bar, it’s LA and he’s famous. If he so wished he could phone one right now and they’d arrange a VIP lounge for him within the half hour.
And he probably would’ve been this a few months ago and it wasn’t just him in this car but him and the rest of the Gavinners.
Sighing he twists his keys in the ignition and decides to just head home, maybe this was just him getting old. He’s not eighteen and drunk off of new found fame and freedom anymore, he’s twenty-five with two lucrative attention-demanding careers. So what if he just wants to go home and hang out with his dog and order take out?
As he was pulling out his phone rings, it’s bluetooth interrupts the music in Klavier’s car. Stopping the semi-decent song playing. He recognizes the caller ID and grimaces, it’s a little late for work to be calling him so that means whatever they’re calling him for is going to take up his whole night. Great paperwork, that’s exactly what he needed today.
Hitting answer he pulls out of the parking lot, whatever they say he’ll just respond that it can wait until tomorrow, that’s it.
“Prosecutor Gavin, we're extremely sorry to be calling you this late.” It was the chief of police Gumshoe. Klavier’s frown deepens it wasn’t often the chief of police even talked to him nevermind phoned, and he was apologizing to Klavier?
“Don’t worry about it, Herr Chief Detective. A prosecutor's job never rests, ja?”
“Oh, um, yes but that’s not what I’m calling you today for- actually we sent an officer to your apartment but you weren’t there. Do you mind doing this over the phone? We can talk about this tomorrow if need be.”
It was only ever this late that the traffic was so nice, Klavier made sure to keep it that way by avoiding any popular nightclubs. He checks the time, 11:04, way too late for them to be sending officers to his house, “I was at an interview, es tut mir leid. But I’m free now, no better time than the present Herr Chief Detective, ja? If you are wondering, I am alone so rest assured that whatever information you’re about to tell me will only be listened to by my ears.”
“That’s not exactly the problem here, I mean it might be for you but not for me!” He pauses, and Klavier hears a barely audible sigh come in through the speaker. “Look kid-” Klavier is taken back by this he is definitely not a kid anymore thank you very much, “-there’s no easy way to say this so I’m just going to rip the bandaid off.”
Klavier nods to himself in the car, “Ok.”
“Your father, Gabriel Gavin, has been murdered and your mother, Karoline Lebkuchen, has been arrested on suspicion of murder.”
At the next intersection Klavier U-turns so violently he swears he hears his tires scream and drives straight to the police station.
Most things in LA seem to be open 24/7, fast food, casino’s, Klavier a few times would pull all nighters to work on cases. On those days Edgeworth would come in at 10 o’clock on the dot, hand him the keys and tell him to lock up when he was done. Naturally whenever Klavier stayed overnight the place became 24/7 as well.
The police station, thankfully, isn’t an exception to this rule. While in other cities certain sectors within the police close down for the night in LA there’s an overnight crew that works tirelessly. The dark age of law was felt in every part of the system and even years after there are files that need to be checked and then double checked to make sure that the prosecutor at the time didn’t convince the judge of whatever verdict they pleased for their ‘win streak’.
Klavier flashes his prosecutor badge once he reaches the front desk, he’s never felt the need to be flashy with it, not even wearing it when he’s in court but the fact that it’s his dad he’s inquiring about makes him want to do this the right way. “I’d like to know where the Gabriel Gavin homicide took place.”
“The investigation is closed for today.” Said the lady at the desk, tapping idly at her keyboard. “If you would like, I do have authority to let you access the crime scene photos.”
As much as Klavier wanted to shout at the lady he couldn’t, she was just following someone's orders. He took a breath in and smiled and leaned against the desk, “I was just phoned about his death maybe ten minutes ago, you cannot expect me to believe that the investigation has already closed. Evidence can be time sensitive, most people know that. I just wanna look at the scene myself, for closure.”
“I have it on file that the police tried to visit your house an hour before.”
“Fine then I’d like to file to be the prosecutor on this case.” He doesn’t trust anybody but himself to do this correctly. Someone has to be there to make sure the whole truth is revealed. Even with the changes Edgeworth has made, corruption still runs deep within the prosecutor's office.
“You can.” Said the lady, “But you will be denied, conflict of interest and a prosecutor has already been assigned to the case.”
“Conflict of interest? Was it not a ‘conflict of interest’ when I got assigned to prosecute the murder that happened at my own concert?”
“I’m sorry. I can’t help you, Prosecutor Gavin.”
There’s no use in being angry at this. The woman was just doing her job even if she’s baring him from doing his own. He sighs, “Can you at least tell me who the prosecutor on the case is? And if there is any defense at the moment?”
“The prosecution is Prosecutor Incerte Niem and the defense…” The woman spends a moment clicking through files. “It seems to be registered as Apollo Justice.”
Klavier knows exactly what to do.
“Danke for your help Fraulein but I must now be off. Tsch ü s!”
There’s an insistent buzzing coming from Apollo’s nightstand.
He wakes feeling worse than usual in the morning, but he chalks it up to having to work late the night before.
Apollo had been surprised by the call from the detention center to be blunt. Usually he picks up his clients by knowing them personally or unfortunately stumbling upon the crime scene himself. So it was nice to see that his name is being spread around in the legal community, not as the guy who put his boss in jail but Apollo Justice: the lie detecting attorney. It didn’t stop Apollo from getting nervous to be at a crime scene again but he did it with a little more pep in his step than usual.
It was unusually dark for it to be the morning but Apollo chalked it up to some clouds rolling by, he thinks he saw something like that on the forecast for this week.
Then Apollo saw his phone and realized it wasn’t his alarm waking him up but a call. He groans before picking it up and hits the answer. “Hello, Apollo Justice here. How can I help?”
“Hallo, Herr Forehead! Wie gehts?” Said the cheery voice on the other line.
Apollo might be exhausted but he wasn’t tired enough to not recognize the perpetrator of the insult. “Prosecutor Gavin, why are you calling me at this hour?” And why on his work phone?
“Always straight to the point with you Herr Forehead.” Gavin says, it lacks the over the top bedazzlement his voice often has. “You’re on the defense for Karoline Lebkuchen, correct?”
“I am.” Apollo nods even though Gavin can’t see him, “...Are you the prosecution?” Not that Apollo would exactly be happy with it, it just seems that out of the roster of prosecutors he’s faced Gavin is the least peeved about Apollo doing his job and even gives him help sometimes.
Although that’s not saying much, considering he has to put up with Gavin’s air guitaring in court.
“Ah, not exactly.” Gavin pauses, Apollo can practically imagine his frown, the one Trucy says looks the angry emoticon. “Karoline Lebkuchen is my mother.” Apollo’s eyes widen, having already pieced it all together before Gavin finishes with, “-And Gabriel Gavin is my father.”
Apollo rubs a hand over his eyes, it is way too early to be dealing with this. Seriously. When he saw the victims name he was like ‘ haha wow, I have a co-worker with the same last name what a fun coincidence!’ Of course it had to be the Gavin he knew. Because he can’t have a simple trial for once in his goddamn life.
Taking a breath in and out he calms himself, he’s not the one who just figured out his dad was murdered and his mom was being blamed for it. In fact Gavin was strangely put together for someone who just learnt this. “Shit. Are you ok?” Stupid question but he needs to ask.
“What is it you always say? ‘ I’m Apollo Justice and I’m fine’ ?” Gavin chuckles.
Apollo burns red but he doesn’t rise to the bait. “Just answer the question, Prosecutor Gavin.”
“What am I? A lying witness?” Apollo doesn’t answer, “ Mein gott- I could definitely be doing better. Is that what you want to hear?”
He pretends to mull it over, “Close enough.” It’s enough that his bracelet doesn’t tighten or squeeze. “But seriously, I-I can show you crime scene photos or whatever. I never really had parents so I don’t really know what one needs for closure but yeah, come over anytime.”
“Anytime?”
Apollo has a feeling he’s going to regret this but he doubles down regardless. “Anytime.” Because Gavin is suffering and Apollo may not have parents- being an orphan his whole life- but he knows that losing one is tragic and even traumatizing in some cases. And he and Gavin may not know each other that well but he wouldn’t be able to sleep at night knowing that he didn’t help Gavin if he had the means too.
“What’s your address? I’m in the car.”
“Wh- now?” Apollo screeches. He prays that his neighbours didn’t hear him but with these paper thin walls he’s better off hoping that their really heavy sleepers.
Gavin scoffs, “Yes, now. You said anytime.”
He knew it. “ I was more so thinking you would come to my office during the day- but yes fine.” Apollo reads off his address and Gavin leaves him with a final message that he’ll be there in under fifteen before hanging up.
Crawling out of bed Apollo doesn’t bother changing because really it’s- he takes a quick look at the clock- 11:46? There’s no way Gavin, even being the perfect rockstar he is, is dressed to the nines at this time. His dad was killed for god’s sake and Apollo is defending his mother who at least Apollo can confirm is innocent.
Although her case is looking pretty bad. No alibi, a clear motive with their divorce, access to the murder weapon. Apollo is going to have his work cut out for him.
Preparing a pot of coffee he resigns himself to the fact that it’s going to be a long and painful night. And if he shows up late tomorrow it’s no one's business but his own. He might as well give himself a caffeine overdose to work through this because Gavin’s the most annoying perfectionist when something of his is on the line.
It’s fine. He’ll let Gavin be a little uptight. It’s his family. He doesn’t need to put anymore of them behind bars, especially after what he did to Kristoph and his friend/bandmate Daryan Crescend.
Apollo pauses the train of thought when he hears the knocking on his door. 11:57 . Gavin better not have been breaking any traffic rules getting over here. It’s LA. The cities never truly dead.
Walking over to the door Apollo lets himself give one last hardy sigh before he opens it.
Gavin is- of course he is. Dressed like he just got out of a photo shoot with Vogue or some other magazine company. With a tight fitting shirt and leather pants and pretty makeup to match. Apollo internally smacks himself for thinking they’d be on the same page for once.
“Hi.” Says Apollo.
Gavin blinks as though surprised, “Hallo… Can I come in?”
Apollo wants to bang his head on the nearest wall, “Yeah- yeah. Come in. I made coffee, do you want any… or anything else?” He holds the door as Gavin walks in.
Gavin shakes his head. “Do you have any tea? If not, water will be fine.”
Apollo thinks he has a little stash of peppermint tea at the back of his cupboard. He usually reserves it for Trucy but he has a sneaking suspicion that Trucy will let it slide just this once. “Yeah just give me a second. I put the photos on the table if you want to check them out.”
Gavin nods and heads over to Apollo’s small dinner table to view the crime scene photos. “This is quite the gruesome scene.”
Apollo cringes as he fills the kettle and places it on the burner. “Yeah, sorry. I should’ve warned you.”
“It’s fine. Nothing I haven’t seen before. Why do they think meine mutter did it?”
Apollo supposes that’s true but still, to have that reaction to your own dads crime scene? Maybe it’s just because he didn’t see it in person, Apollo tries to justify. Gavin is a prosecutor, a damn good one at that as well, he needs to know how to hide his emotions during court stands to reason he’s doing the same thing here.
“They believe her motive was the divorce as it’s on file that it wasn’t a particularly clean one and that your father took most of the assets in it as well. They’re going to a revenge angle from what I can gather. Then there's the fact of the weapon, he was stabbed in the neck with a rare German knife that was found to be in the possession of your mother. These two things coupled with the fact that she has no alibi at the time, claiming she was at home for the day, led the police to suspect that she was the one to do it.” There’s something to be said about Apollo’s lack of client confidentiality at this moment but Apollo seriously can’t believe Ms. Lebkuchen would take any issue with divulging this information to her son.
He pours the tea in a mug with a cat print on it that vaguely looks like Mikeko and returns to the dinner table with coffee for himself and tea for Gavin.
Passing it off to Gavin he mumbles out a gratitude, “Do you have any photos of the knife?”
Apollo pauses to take a sip. “Are you trying to get involved with the case? You’re not the prosecutor. In fact I think you should stay as far away as possible from the courthouse when this trial is underway.”
“It’s my parents Apollo, of course I need to be involved. You better be lucky Kristoph is in prison otherwise he would demand you hand over the case to him. He likes to keep family matters within the family.”
Apollo barely suppresses a wince at the mention of that man's name. “There’s many other ways to get involved that don't concern the trial. Your mother is in the detention center right now, you can visit her tomorrow. You’re a prosecutor, you know how prosecutor’s trick witnesses. So help her. Or at least make sure she’s wary of your guys' weird mind tricks.” He makes a vague gesture to Gavin which Gavin’s frown only deepens at.
“I want to help. You see how the legal system is here. We might be out of the dark age of law but that doesn’t mean that there are many smart or morally correct prosecutors to go around.” He pauses, “They’re having you face against Prosecutor Incerte Niem, by the way.”
“Never heard of him.”
A sliver of a smirk flashes on Gavin’s face. “Me neither. But that’s not the point. The point is that while I may trust your skills on the bench more than I should considering your frankly appalling manner of speech. I don’t trust what’s happening on the other side. You know my mom is innocent and I think they’d rather have an easy target for this case.”
“Gee thanks.” Petty asshole. “Bold assumption you're making there as well. Defense attorney’s take on guilty clients all the time, my job isn’t always to get people an acquittal, sometimes it’s to lessen their sentencing.” She is innocent but that isn’t the point Apollo is trying to make right now. Blind trust in anyone is a flaw, he learnt that from his mentor and then again with his failure of a hero. Maybe a parent is different but Gavin should know that blood relations don’t mean a damn thing when it comes to the courtroom.
“You wanna know why I’m so confident in my mom being innocent?” Gavin says, he looks at Apollo in a way that makes his exhausted mind instantly label it as flirtatious but this is decidedly not that kind of conversation. The outfit Gavin in just happens to be pretty and Apollo happens to be severely lacking cognitive skills at the moment. “It’s not because I believe in her. I was never close with her as a child, she made it clear who her favourite was. But I believe in your ability to somehow against all odds find clients that are innocent no matter how much the evidence is stacked against them. Call it intuition but I don’t think this will be the first time you're wrong about such a thing.”
Red fills Apollo’s cheeks. Who the hell says stuff like that? “Listen I appreciate your blind confidence in me, I faced against you in court enough to know that your a halfway decent prosecutor as well but that doesn’t stop the fact that this is a huge conflict of interest and that it would be really shitty for me to have you accompany me to the crime scene of your own father. ”
“Me and my dad weren’t close either.”
“So why do you care so much? You don’t seem attached to either of them, a half sane person would be balling their eyes out right now.”
That makes Gavin pause and think for a moment. There was surely another speech Gavin had saved up that he was about to launch into that died on the tip of his tongue. He looks down at his hands, picking the black nail polish off his fingertips. “I- I don’t know.” His eyes flick up to Apollo. “Should I be crying right now?” Gavin sounds so shocked by the idea that it makes Apollo wonder just what type of people his parents are.
Apollo bites his lip. “That was shitty of me to say, I apologize, I shouldn’t be telling anyone how they should be dealing with grief. That’s Athena’s job.” His horrible attempt at a joke at least doesn’t completely fall flat with Gavin. “That being said though I think you need more time to think this through. I mean when did you even learn about your father’s murder?”
“11:04.” He resights, seemingly having already memorized it.
“That was just over an hour ago, Prosecutor Gavin. I think you need more time to think of this, you're in shock clearly and it’s only a matter of time before it wears off and you break down. You should go home and sleep, talk to me in the morning if you're still up for this. We’ll have a proper conversation then.”
A pathetic chuckle leaves Gavin, “Everyone always treats me like I’m going to break down any second but fine. I’ll go home. Expect to hear a call from me tomorrow- later today.”
With that he leaves Apollo with a drained mug of peppermint tea and a bunch of unorganized photos sprawled on the table that are sure to give any filers at the police department a heart attack.
A silent meow rings through the house, trotting on his small legs to Apollo on the dining table. Mikeko rubs himself on Apollo’s pyjama pants, purring as he does.
“Hey sweety.” Apollo whispers, picking up Mikeko and placing him on Apollo’s lap to pet. He meows again but quickly gets comfortable on Apollo’s lap. “I know, I know. The scary stranger is gone…”
First and foremost Apollo is tired. But even without the cup of coffee and doesn’t think he’d be getting much sleep tonight. The trial is to take place in a week and Apollo doesn’t think he’ll have the mental energy to defend such a case in the short amount of time.
“You’re so lucky Mikeko. I wish I was a house cat with no responsibilities with an owner as nice as me. Your life is so good and you don’t even know it.” Or maybe he does, having lived on the streets for a good portion of his life. Apollo can’t say he doesn’t know the feeling, abandonment.
“What should I do Mikeko? I swear I’m going to have grey hair before I’m thirty because of this job…”
But of course Mikeko doesn’t answer because he’s a cat and can’t understand English. While sometimes Mikeko’s actions make Apollo doubt that he can’t change the fact that Mikeko’s a cat and wouldn’t be able to respond even if he wanted to.
He feels crazy talking to a cat but it’s strangely cathartic and it makes it easier to sort his thoughts out.
So instead of sleeping he sorts out the case outloud to Mikeko, talking about what little he knew and what Gavin filled him in on and how Apollo is willing to bet that there’s a little more family politics there then what meets the eye.
Family politics or something else… Apollo can’t quite decide on that yet but maybe he’ll have a better understanding of everything tomorrow once he’s actually allowed to visit the crime scene. Ms. Lubkuchen is innocent, his bracelet nor his intuition have ever failed him and he won’t let her get convicted of a crime she didn’t commit because what was it that Gavin said? Because ‘they’d rather have an easy target for this case’ ?
He feels himself dozing off on the chair and despite knowing he’ll regret it in the morning he doesn’t move. Apollo’s a little too comfortable right now and Mikeko’s perched on lap just right, purring without a care in the world.